#these are just my messy stream of conciouseness thoughts

[zeravmeta]

actually yknow what i do have some thoughts abt this i wanna get out not only abt danganronpa but problematic media as a whole and to start i do think the reason dr is so rife with discourse about being Problematic or not just has to do with the history of how the series came overseas and it does lead to a larger discussion on how to engage with media critically i think. like for dr you had to be the Dankest of Weaboos to get into it when it launched, with a whole ton of overseas non-tld stuff slowly coming in for about 2-3 years before it actually got popular here, and the series' specific style of playing with tropes, stereotypes, the artstyle, all of it just kind of conglomerated into a very recognizable and love it/hate it type series where the fanbase was mainly a whole bunch of impressionable progressive teens, and really just being on this age group with a shifting internet culture is part of whats made dr endure for so long as a memorable series. you had people growing up and out of it you had people being very into it people being very against it and a lot of the discourse surrounding it was infamous bc dr DOES have problematic aspects to it but (and this part is very important) those unfortunate aspects arent what the series is about, and the venom came from trying to reconcile that. i feel like a lot of modern internet culture has this issue with reconciling the problems of their media because so much modern progressivism is performative and the fast nature of this culture means people have to sanitize themselves as much as possible lest they face the horrible loss of internet clout. people either take misplaced embarrasing pride in ~denouncing problematic media~ or are entirely uncritical of media with problematic elements as a way to defend it and generally both of these are unhealthy ways to engage in media, not even mentioning stuff like shipping culture and peoples staunch refusal to engage in media unless they can ship things in it, or how people just run with a shows base concept and make millions of au concepts out of it without really appreciating what the media is about. and look, people are free to enjoy/engage with media in any way they want, if someone wants to make 15 million coffee shop au fluff fics about whatever new movie came out they can do that, but the problem with those mindsets come from when inevitably they step out of that bubble and have to engage with other media critically, it leaves them unprepared, because the fact of the matter is that no media is truly unproblematic. there will always be some failing people can find, whether at fault of the creator or audience, theres no perfect pure piece of media out there, and where this really comes into play is when making the distinction between problematic media, and media with problematic elements. problematic media is stuff like hp or aot, where the inherent racism/sexism/transphobia/etc is a CORE, DEFINING PART of that series’ themes, vs media with problematic elements (like dr), where they’re unfortunate side effects. does it suck that theres racism/sexism/transphobia in dr? absolutely. should it be excused/overlook? no. is the racism/sexism/transphobia what the series is about? absolutely not. another good example i could point too is fate bc anyone who knows even a little about fate knows that, unfortunately, theres these problematic aspects in every corner of the series, but the reason theres such hardcore fans is because those problematic aspects arent what the series as a whole is about. this doesnt annul any discussions on these problematic aspects, and moreover its actually IMPORTANT to have these conversations because theyre a part of critically analyzing media, but overall its a matter of taking the good with the bad. no one is holding anyone at gunpoint to like anything or excuse anything, and you can just Not vibe with a piece of media, but people arent evil for liking media with problematic elements. and really instead of picking fights its important to be able to engage critically with any type of media and make peace with any problematic elements whatever media you may enjoy might have in them by actively being aware of these problems and being open to discussions on these issues rather than taking these criticisms personally and denouncing any criticism altogether. theres absolutely nuance to this btw depending on the vast variety of different media franchises that exist but overall being uncritical of media as a way to either denounce it or defend it is ultimately a losers game for both and only hurts any type of meaningful discussion to be had, especially with the assumption most of the time that liking media with problematic elements = excusing these aspects. please just be critical with media and be kind with people

[emletish-fish]

7. what is you favorite sentence/paragraph? read it to us! (asker can choose what fic) (x)

I chose three! One from each of my 'big fics'. No Zombies, Worst Prisoners and Good Boys under the cut:

NO ZOMBIES:

No Zombies was a delight to write. I had pretty much the whole idea from the get-go, (of a returned style AU with Hector coming to spend time with the family in the modern world). I finished it quick - and it's not too long (side-eyeing Good Boy and Worst Prisoner). It was the first fic where I felt like I really "stuck" the landing. I was quite flexible with my original outline, but I still knew where the journey ended. It ended exactly how I wanted it too - happily but with a bitter-sweet note.

The emotional core of this story is how Elena, family matriach, who is so gruff and no-nonsense, who despises Hector in the films, and who has such a warm heart under such a grumpy exterior would slowly soften and come to love Hector, (and how she grows as a person because of this and becomes more comfortable showing love/emotions to her family). It was like a platonic slow-burn as she learns to understand Hector better - which is why this bit is my favourite because it's where she starts to really feel fond of him for the first time:

“Well, I'm just glad I'm a better teacher for him than watching old Ernesto De La Cruz movies.” Héctor had replied with a wry smile. “It's probably because I'm so much more handsome than that butt-chinned, over-the-top ham.”

“Because you're a pointy-chinned, over-the-top ham?” Elena replied, feeling surprising witty. She never made teasing jokes like this normally, but it was so easy with Héctor.

He looked mock-offended. “I'll have you know, my chin is wonderful and I've given it to several of your grandchildren, so there.”

If Elena was a different person, she probably would have pulled Héctor into a warm, laughing hug then. She might have told him seriously that Miguel had always been difficult for her. He felt things so strongly and got so upset and emotional – she'd always struggled with how to help him, how to calm him. Miguel was so happy now. She knew that was because of Héctor.

She might have told Héctor that he was at least six thousand times the musician, eight thousand times the teacher, and ten thousand times the man that Ernesto De La Cruz was.

But Elena was who she was.

Instead she said “Idiot,” and ruffled his stupidly messy hair rather fondly.

She told herself she wasn't warming to the fool musician, but she knew it was a lie.

GOOD BOY:

My current work. It's another platonic slow-burn, but this time set in the Cobra Kai universe with son and father pair - Robby Keene and Johnny Lawrence. In the show, these two characters have such a dysfunctional relationship that is so full of miscommunications and missed chances, and they genuinely want a better relationship (and it would be so healing for both of them! Do not get me started!) I lean much more into the magical realism in this story, as I turned Robby into a dog (Animal transformation - PIXAR's Brave style), so that he could immediately get the cuddles and easy affection he so clearly needs.... because I have never seen a more touch/affection-starved character aside from Zuko in ATLA.

This also gave Robby a chance to really understand, not only his father, but the other people in his cicrcle. He discovered he had a support network. He got to know he was loved by many. he got to witness the actions people would take as they searched for human-him (not knowing that he'd been turned into a dog). And it gave Johnny a chance to learn how to take care of something, feel needed, and express his love for his son without the weight of their complicated history/his own trauma hanging over him. It was hard to pick a favourite, but I will say the Johnny-stream-of-conciousness chapters are definitely the easiest/most fun to write. One of my favourite bits is in the first one, The queen of ice-cream runaway when Johnny tells Robby about when Laura (his grandmother) found out Shannon was pregnant and she was going to be a grandmother.

It's the first inkling Robby gets that while his father wasn't there for him and he was neglected a lot, Johnny did his best to keep the bad shit from his own childhood away from Robby as his own way of showing care. It hints at the deep and damaging abuse Johnny endured. When he finally had a say with his own kid, he would have done anything to protect Robby from feeling the same. I'd say here is where Robby really begins to warm to his Dad;

Then I told her our chosen name and she said I was a dumbass and Swayze was a terrible middle name, and we had to change it to some shit like Alastair or something. She thought he should have a rich sounding middle name. And I say Mom, Alastair sounds like some lame-ass insurance broker who upskirts his secretary and then cries as he jerks off to the pictures, what else you got? She thought Sebastian, and that was worse! What a pussy name.  Sebastian is going to be sitting in the little french patisserie cafe drinking the tiny-ass coffee for dolls and eating the éclair with his prissy finger tips. I already want to kick Sebastian's ass. Who wouldn’t? I’m not going to give my kid a name that is going to get his ass kicked.

And she couldn't talk, cause she named me after Johnny Cash, just cause she liked his music. And she couldn't think of a middle name at the time, so I didn't get one. Thank goodness. I could have ended up Johnny Alastair and had to kick my own ass.

So Swayze stayed.

Then she mentions how she and Sid can help out, so I didn't need to do the two jobs, stupidly long hours thing. And we need the money. I know we need the money. But my whole body froze and I just went No. None of that for little Robby Swayze. ...

... She’s going on about spending Sid’s money on Robby and I just...I can’t. I can't allow it. Cause I knew how he would be, and the way he would treat that kid. So I tell her, no thank you. Not a fucking cent mom.  Sid’s not getting to feel like he owns a hair on Robby’s head. That motherfucker can go jump. You thought we needed Sid’s money when I was a kid. You decided it was better for me, and that was your choice. I did not get a vote in that. But this is my kid, and this time it is my call, and I am choosing no. I’m not going to have Sid make my kid feel like he has to apologise for existing every day. I'm not going to have Sid treat my kid the way he treated me. I will never need money that badly. I will never put my kid through that. I'll work myself to the bone doing 20 hour days before that. I'll work on the 40th floor without a harness before that.  I will sell my fucking organs before it comes to that. Not a cent mom.

WORST PRISONER:

My 'what if Zuko made friends with the Gaang early on?" AU that then turned into a three-book long saga (and I will return to it, Worst Prisoner readers - Thank you for you patience). It does have evenutal Zutara, but the focus is really on the Gaang + Zuko as a whole, and all the interpersonal relationships. I'd say there is more gen-shipping around Zuko as a central character, as Iroh & Zuko, and Sokka & Zuko are both given equal prominence. in fact, all the friendships and familial relationships were equally important to me. (the book 3 Zuko & Azula stuff is so interesting, but it is ...less funny I guess.)

This fic is such a joy to write, and I really try and balance the humour with the bittersweet/sad parts, and one of the main sources of humor was the Sokka-Aang-Zuko -Katara qudrangle of dumbassery. I love the four of them together in book 1, and so many of their interactions were a hoot to write. But if I'd have to pick a favourite moment, it would be the moment in the deserter chapter in book 1, where they all decide to 'officially' be friends:

“Well, you can figure that out and find someone while I'm up in the Northern Water Tribe. Then when we finish up there, we'll come find you,” Aang offered.

“Really?” Zuko’s eyes were shining optimistically. It was a strange expression for him. Aang was so used to seeing him with a grumpy face.

“Really, I promise,” Aang said, feeling so glad that he could help Zuko go home.

“Yeah, I second that. If this means we won’t have to put up with you chasing us, I am in!” Sokka said. “Sheesh, you could have just asked ages ago!”

“You know, this means I was right,” Aang started to say, feeling very vindicated. The others looked at him curiously. “If we had just talked about friendship in the forest, we could have sorted this out weeks ago!”

“Boo, forest friendship!” Sokka said.

“Don't boo him,” Katara admonished, elbowing her brother.

“I agree with Sokka. There's no way I would have appreciated that speech weeks ago, Aang,” Zuko said.

Sokka smiled at Zuko for saying he agreed with him. It actually wasn't that rare of an occurrence, but it still seemed to surprise Sokka every time.

“See, Aang, forest friendship is bullshit,” Sokka said.

“I didn't say that!” Zuko cut in. “I just meant, maybe … I had to be dragged all over the Earth Kingdom by you guys ... and shot ... and taken to nonsense fortune tellers ... and I had to be forced to eat Sokka's truly terrible and disgusting cooking—”

“Oi!”

“—and I had listen to Aang lecture me about friendship and vegetarianism in the forest just so I could come here.” He looked around at the deserters’ camp site. “I dunno, maybe it was meant to be this way.”

“What are you saying? You want to be forest friends with Aang now?” Sokka asked accusingly.

“I mean, sure. If Aang will have me, we can be friends,” Zuko said, and looked uncertain.

“Yay! I knew you'd want to be my friend,” Aang said, feeling delighted.

He was so happy he had a Fire Nation friend again. Kuzon had been an amazing friend, even though he'd gotten Aang into so many sticky situations. He had already thought Zuko was his friend, but it was nice to make it official. Aang always knew the Fire Nation had good people in it too, and now he had been proven right. He jumped up and gave Zuko a huge hug.

[order-progress]

I used to have a really entitled outlook on life. In my mind though, I was entitled to my thought processes because it was where my mind existed in the place having had come from a once far more turbulent era. Back then I didn't question things that werent outwardly obvious. I didnt question the unremarkable identities of things that exhibited no distinctions amongst one another. Life was a stream of experience, and I just did the best of choices I decided to arrange, or really actually, more like shuffle choices into a messy pile and pat myself in the back cause I could squint at it my mismatched pile of non related events and not feel guilty for putting off routine, structure and goals.

I guess it isnt so surprising to anticipate that like all my other experiences, disicpline would present itself when and if I needed it to be summoned out of wherever creative and yet very hard to imagine location i would imagine it arriving at some future, ambiguous date, just in time to make no work look like fancier no work and with ribbons on it.

Something very common happened to me, something that is happinning right now all around the world, no matter how many days, or years after i first posted this here.

My boyfriend broke up with me.

I wore my entitlement pretty high that day, because somehow, despite there having been no carefully executed plan made on ky end--some masterpiece scheme of genius where one could really see there existed some reasonable and healthy attention to tackle to fucking problem.

Nope. My mother fucking entitled ass decided id actually be shocked. Not even fake shocked. Thats how you know you have lost touch with your surroundings, because big things happen in your wake..while your awake and yet somehow your stuck on who killed the butler in the library with the candle stick.

What makes this one of the most significant event despite its occurance being fairly common globaly, is that his presence had caused me to become more aware of more of the things I would have otherwise taken in stride, none of these events were remarkable on their own, but collectivelly, I had inadvertantly cleaned up my mindspace to find neatly organized clusters of thoughts no longer blending into the subconcious like 70's urban grafitti.

I didnt hold that moment to some disporportionately skewed sugar coating scale just to get ribbons on them after they were organized,I just acknowledged them, like a breath,where as before, they were simply obstacles or pit stops that would perpetuate the chronic attention deficit I had welcomed into my head. I like to think of ADD as the worlds most innefective street sweepers, they sweep alright, but they just make a bigger mess and then you got things in places they have no business being in.

I was in a place of low self worth because of an accumulated collection of short lived and half assed adventures, disastrous endeavers and the nefarious presence of something so obscured, so black and forboding, made me avoid certain places for simply not wanting to deal with the house keeping it wouldve required to mitigate its destructive intentions.

I kept myself busy to not force the acknowledgent that this would become a source of not only my insecuruties, but then in addition to its ever increasing interconnectedness, its complexity. Its chambers that hardened like a mystical kight of armor, whose drawers were full of destructive objects and thoughts that rattled in their confinement as a means of foreshadowing something so sinister, I could not then yet fathom the destrutive ways its icy talons would engulf and twist into my everyday life simply to create chaos, and it didnt register that this was a problem because amidst this battle royale of fragments and bits of poorly put together patterns, Francisco's presense was a light whose emimation lulled me into a complacecy I hadnt anticipated

It wasnt that in this period, that I conciously made a decision to disregard the growing issue, it was the novelty of being in a loving, beautiful and mature relationship with someone that as each day grew, so did my conviction that this person was becoming the brightest fixture in an ever cramped confined hallway of possibilities.

As I stood there aware of this moment, feeling a satisfaction and a gratitude I had never felt before, I realized that I had come so far on autopilot, it was a move that was almost instinctual, I rolled my sleeves up, put on the rocky theme song, got my gym bag ready, went and bought like every stupid unessecary stupid trinket shit people buy to feel like their getting a handle and a good start on some shit, but really it just becomes the infuriating bag of junk that is now the obstacle between you and the door handle to exit your car and actually start your project.

I felt a sense of urgency, I saw how unequipped I had been and while I was and it was this moment that taught me how much I loved him. I reckognized that somehow I was one of those fucking weirdos that jumped through those seedy ass short cut type scenarios in life to give you the same effect of the real thing in less the time, kind of like a GED vs high school diploma, or plan b instead of condoms.

I recognized that there was an innate element of unneccesary risk involved in many of my accomplishments. The risk was usually always a concious decision that I would accept a certain amount of totally unnecessary consequences that typically would define the life of those people who you catch specific glimpses of in mysterious times like dawn or dusk. And be like..yea i could totally see that guy having to figure out what to do with the llama he inherited as a result of some gamble.

This was no longer an acceptable risk. It wasnt that i thought it was dangerous or scare him away, its that I am not the kind of man that wakes up and sees the problems his factory has and finally knows how to fix it and then just be okay with going to bed and put it off.

This is where I get annoyed again. I knew that I wasnt capable of actively doing something against him, because we both agreed on things, and also neither of us was completely high as fucking kite on methamphetamines while operating a forklift to tune a paino yet.

I couldnt ever feel bad about atheletes who ugly cried after being disqualified for juicing to get an unfair advantage in the sports world.

Yet once again my overwhelming confidence, my lovable man mentality of "fuck a map or tools you got grit, spit and teeth". Prevailed.

Im mad because it was this moment right here. In a sea of me being happy to grow and learn and doing the rignt thing. I saw a place i overlooked, its presence was almost like a marker that there were many other areas i needed to work on, and i got sad.

I didnt feel good enough. I felt like a mess. I felt dissapointed at the pride in nothing I had taken so many times. I was finally proud of the changes i was making again, only to be reminded in a very real way of how I never had structure, never had a fail safe implemented effectively to instead of adopting either anxiety or no fucks about an event that could have been in my power to mitigate, i either didnt even notice I missed it, or didnt care.

As I started seeing the mountain of work I had to do, I wondered what it meant about how effectively i could handle other things moving forward, it was an irrational fear that I had that I would dissapoint him because I wanted us to be happy. But i am an artistic person, people who work with details to make a larger picture learn early on how to work details, and I never evaluated just how shoddy my altertanitive crash course was like getting PlAN B instead of putting a condom on.

I can handle pressure effectively. I can be okay with my decisions. What I cant do is open up a factory, see everything that was negelcted when I now know how to fix it, and then go to sleep like nothing bothered me.

I never in my life found myself in a place where i came face to face with old life and it made me feel sad or humilated. I felt like a fraud for just having gotten lucky that everytning worked out, while he worked hard.

I suddenly felt something I never experienced before, fear in love. The moment where you realize your not a piece of shit because you actually dont want to let someone down, the moment when you feel bad because you walked around in life with luck you didnt give a second thought to and passed it off as hard work. And here was this beautiful man, whose life was suffering and hard work, and you realized all of it at once, and there I was, eager fucking beaver captain america man of the house cause now i feel like a god damned engineer since i could assemble an ikea 3 piece wrench-back the fuck up motherfuckers.

I just felt humbled and i felt driven. I also felt the pressures rise up around me and I dont know why I couldnt look away from the sight of the realization of how id been. And its not like i did it all on purpose, but from that moment on, it was as if I had something to prove to myself that at that time I couldnt understand yet because I hadnt reflected yet. And as I was taking the scenic route on ways to "punish yourself is actually how we fucking motivate ourselves around here cus were fucking men" the bigger I created something inside me that wasnt ever there. And then as the places that I had been tendering to and growing in started to not be kept, pressure in my life at home happened. And for the first time in my entire life I was embarrassed at my life.

I remember the moment I felt it, my mom leaving me at work after I lost my car. I walked 2 miles in the cold because i was infuriated that I allowed another event I could have forseen to happen.

I never in my life reflected this intensley on my actions before. Having him in my life made me realize I had been holding myself to a higher standard because I am at my best when I when I am actively building towards something. I opened a place in me I never saw with those eyes and it hurt me. I tried to let him in, and to be honest, the insecurities of him seeing all that mortiified me..not because I would be seen as a slob or this or that, i was just dissapointed that I for a time during when I needed it the most in my early life, I wasnt necessarily taught healthy ways to do things. Mostly because I came to this country at 10, didnt know english, parents worked all the time until i was 16 and then dad got sick with brain cancer and we caught it after he had a seizure cause dad apperently loved moonlighting as my biggest fan when he would go reading my journal at night.

I didnt know how to explain it to francisco. I was feeling. New concept, i was feeling out of sync, i didnt understand why it hit me so hard. I was trying to look away and orient myself on the present.

I could have just dealt with that. But i suddenly felt raw and vulnerable. My boyfriend and I were getting into arguments because I just wanted us to be closer due to this need i didnt know how to vocalize about what I was going through, and he hesitated because he probably thought id leave him if i saw his dirty secrets.

That was the one thing he really never appreciated about my love. I just knew. If everything else was as evident ..like this feelings and where they came from and how to process them healthy while ...it just all got too much. I didnt know how to tell him what I needed. I just needed him.

I started to feel like i wasnt tethered to the focused areas I was so eager to work in. I just kept telling myself communication is key we will get through it.

Then I the drugs did something I didnt expect them to. They turned off this guilt and switch. They gave me the quiet to make them come down to a more manegeable place where I wasnt overwhelmed anymore.

Because I couldnt process this in words at the time, i didnt know how to express that to him. It led to me feeling guilty for not understanding why i enjoyed doing the drugs aside from the stimulant effect. When i tried to explain it to him, it was like trying to coin a cheesy motto for a doomed cereal commercial in french, basically everuthing sounded like something he had no understamding or could relate to.

I started feeling depressed because i could see that although from his perspective we were fighting..

I was even more frustrated becauese we werent fighting. I was pretty much crying, trying to tell him in french something he didnt understand while he was yelling at me in english about me not respecting him by not speaking english.

This was the worst fucking part. Because part of the issue that led me here was accountabiliyy and communication.

I kept telling him in the only way i knew how.please im sorry i know things are getting worse. But this isnt how we are.

I thought we could get through anything.

In his mind he saw a piece of something, he ignored my emotional attachment to it..and i mean i cant blame him, other people never quit.

But even in those moments i knew i wasnt going to be other people.

And suddenly i was alone. I was depressed. I had realized that it wasnt us that was th issue so i tried so hard to communicate more effectively that he got frustrated and said i talked in loops. I felt so alone because i understood his frustration and i just needed him to trust me. But that was the perfect storm when i just got so alone feeling from his inability to just not look at me how i felt at myself. And i honestly tried to fix it in the middle of him running away and the most painful thing was that he couldnt understand and i didnt know how to say it.

I dont blame him for leaving

But a part of me breaks to my very core to know that if he just literally lookrd at me like yes i was going crZy but i was just hurting and overwhelmed.

All i wanted and needed was him.

The worst. Pain was that he didnt see that.

And i needed to explain it. And he didnt let me.

I felt like i was desperatly trying to express something of real explaination. I just honestly was desperate to because he was running.

I

[naughty-teddy-innit]

A Smutty NSFW Ed Stream of Conciousness Ed Blurb 🔥🐻

{Inspired by Drunky, dancing, sweaty, Gangsta in Da Club Teddy}

AKA Group Chat is a dirty, dangerous place 🔥

Hope you enjoy...

You're barely home, he's all sweaty from dancing and gettin' his Gangsta on all night, all musky boy smell and traces of faded cologne, the curls at his neck and ears are messy and sweat soaked. You're so impatient, not enough coordination or patience or time to take all your clothes off... Your hazy, tipsy, shots-laced self only wants, needs one thing… Those messy, drunky, I wanna taste you and fuck you all at the same kisses, he's got you, all while trying to undress you… ..He's got your panties off and your skirt yanked up, shirt pushed up (no bra thank CHRIST) all in in drunken, carnal haste. You'd be fumbling with his belt, trying to concentrate your fuzzy alcohol laced thoughts on getting it undone, wanting his cock out of his pants, still while tasting every bit of his mouth, his lips, his tongue. He helps you by yanking his belt off and unzipping, yanking at his jeans and boxers, all while his lips have not left yours.

He can absolutely see how impatient you are, why's that cocky smirk so fucking sexy?

"Right here, yeah...?" he breathes slowly, the bright colours of his arms quickly lifting you up under your thighs, and pressing you to the wall right inside the door. Your legs automatically wrap around his waist in all too eager response, his pants are BARELY peeled down his thighs, only enough so that he can palm his cock. He exhales: a growl that rumbles from his chest, the dirty smirk on his face still belaying his enjoyment at your rushed intentions, and before you can catch a breath or tell him to get on with it, he's balls deep, and oh fuck, your head tips back and you hand reaches down, over his hip to squeeze his perfect, fuzzy little round ass....

You just want it hard and dirty, you need him to fuck the hell out of you, you're trying to match his rhythm but the copious amounts of gin and vodka sluicing through your blood are NOT helping....His hips are messy and sharp and all but jackhammering you into deep wood of the door frame. His eyes are wide the fuck open, fixed on you and the "Oh fuck... Oh fuck..." that fall from his lips, the sweat that's gathering at the copper strands at his forehead… There is nothing sexier than when this man is about come, mid-fuck, mouth hanging open and pupils own wide, his ass flexing as he fucks into you, you can feel under the grip of your palm, the lines of his broad shoulders lifting and tightening with every movement....

It's comes on so fast, that pooling of heat and cold fire deep in your belly, it just erupts, and goes on and on, waves and contractions of pure pleasure. The wordless shriek, the high pitched "Ahhhh fuck YES.... Teddy I'm... Fuck...." and he's right there with you and you can FEEL the warmth between your thighs as low, raspy "Ah ah ahhhhh's" are tumbling from his lips, those pretty lips he always bites as that last bit of his orgasm tears through him....

You can actually feel his heart slamming against his inked up chest, pressed against yours. He slips out of you, and gingerly helps you set your feet on the floor, and you both sort of giggle amidst catching your respective breaths, and you find yourselves both sliding into a sort of collapsed against the wall sitting position. He presses his forehead to yours, and a flash of that sexy little shit smirk crosses his face. "Well. That wasn't shit..." and he cackles at your expression. "Lucky your dick is so talented, Edward." You raise an eyebrow, biting done on the grin that threatens. "Think I'll keep you." "Lucky me..." he murmurs, and grins, planting a kiss on your lips.

Hope you guys like it. Think I turned my damn self on... Phew. Comments, Asks (Even Anon ones!), feedback, it's all loved and appreciated.

Also @fingersnthumbsbaby and @whydontijustleavethisrighthere still get the blame for this, I'm pretty sure 😙

*MASTERLIST HERE*

[drukkie-kookie]

CAN SOMEBODY MAKE A FIC OUT OF MY DREAM PLS

So right this morning I had a dream with jimin. It felt like a continuation of my yesterday dream. It was about apocalypse. The opening was a big building like the hall of mom’s office, the lobby. Full of glass here and there. But due to the darkening sky, there’s no lights coming inside the lobby. I remember i was trapped inside the lobby with dad sister mom and practically 50-60 people others, huddled on the ground. We were waiting the zombies to coming, as we prepared ourselves to attack. One by one the zombies came, gunfires echoed here and there, but it felt silent for me as I crouched in the corner. Scared. Dad then gave me a gun, I missed the only shot he gave me, so he take away the gun. But thankfully the zombies was cleared and we managed to get out of the lobby, to a street like in hanok village. The sky was getting a little bit brighter than before. It has a blue hue and white mixed together just like the sky after rain. I was wearing black jeans and flimsy peach top. My short hair up to shoulder was set free, messy as the cold wind playing with my hair. And just like that I was separated from my family. The street was a chaos, shops being left behind. People running here and there. Buses came and go and tons of humans screaming and fighting to get on. I was panicked, then somebody grabbed my hand from behind. A warm hand that secured me from everything. It was Park Jimin. He was there, hair pitch black like a night, dishelved. He was running out of breath, with his donker turtleneck & black coat and black pants and boots. He was panicked and scared, but managed to find me. His eyes was a mixture of exhaustion and alarmed. He saw my frightened expression and instantly put on his coat on me. I was surprised bcs the wind was so cold and I was worried for his warmth too. So as we running to the nearest bus stop, I caught a shop selling a coat. I braked our intertwined hands to hastily grab the black one coat on the display. But Jimin also stopped afterwards seeing a tiny hallway seemed like a police office of some sort, with some poeple running inside probably for a shelter. Having a second thought whether to enter the police station or get on to the bus. But seconds turned into minutes, the farther the buses going away. So I pulled our intertwined hands to run back on track. We arrived right at the moment the last bus go. We screamed, trying to run after it. But the bus wasn’t stopping. Our faces was in despair, we really need to get out of Seoul. This city is gonna be a scrambled egg soon. 15-20 people also couldn’t get in, just like me and Jimin. Then we asked the conductor, but he said that’s the last bus. And the buses that will pass by afterwards won’t stop in Seoul. Our breath stopped. How much we want to screamed at the conductor, yelling, doing anything for him to do something. But he also restless, he already sacrificed his own life to stay behind here and informing the rest that left behind. So our energy was evaporated in instant. The roads started to get deserted, and silence ensued us. All of us. My breath was not complying, it’s getting hard to breath as a I choked in sobs. Jimin’s face was hollow as he brought my body to his embrace. He kissed the corner of my lips with his cheeks connected to mine, trying to subside my sobs with his. I’ve never seen Jimin cried so hard like this before. Only tears streaming down his face when he cried in the epilogue concert. But in my dream, he lost all of his composure, he was sobbing inaudibly. But his choked breath mingling with my shortned one. It was so sad, my heart hurts experiencing that moment. I felt my conciousness started to wake up as mom and sister started yelling to wake me up in the real life. But I gripped Jimin harder in my dream, with wind blowing our hair mercilessly. And I managed to stayed in my dream. I felt like being in a lucid dream, where I can control my dream. I don’t want to leave Jimin behind like this. I want to know what happened next. So after our tears dried out, we started running to the nearest hill, where the roads totally deserted from a living being. Me and Jimin remembered the promises we made with our childhood friends that whatever happens in the future, we will go back to the vast green field up in the hill in the next city, probably Busan. That’ll be our meeting point. So that’s me and Jimin heading, with cloudy sky as our roof. Then my soul slipped away back to the reality. ===== So if anyone interested making this into a story please do ㅠㅠ. And don’t forget to tag me when it’s finished :“)