#they know I'm not out and so does she but there's just this sort of disconnect and i'm afraid of doing something that makes them

[prael]

Day 3: Reciprocation

Itzy Yeji x male reader smut

words: 6,714 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

If there's one thing you've learned dealing with the rich, the famous and the devious, it's that there's always a deal to be made.

-

"Not often that I see a girl like you in a place like this."

"Well, you're an incredibly difficult man to track down."

It's the girl who's supposed to be on the main page of your site starting tomorrow morning. You gesture for Yeji to sit by your side, and while there are more than enough empty seats around you, she prefers to stand. What is this, a fucking power move?

"Well, you could have just called my office and made yourself an appointment."

It doesn't amuse her. She simply brings her hands up to rest on her hips as she looks at you.

"Look, let's get to the point. You can't post the article." There is something rather endearing in watching how she talks to you. Her hips are cocked and her face bears a look of determination, but she lacks confidence. You're not sure she even believes herself. Maybe she's just hoping that you'll cave.

You meet her eyes and hold her gaze for a few moments, searching for a crack in her armour. It's hard to say for certain when the only lighting in this club is what little neon they have on display, but there seems to be something else hiding behind her stare. A nervous energy, perhaps. So, you correct her, "I can post the article."

"Look— I, I have money." She takes a single stride towards you, with her long slender legs of which only part of her thigh is covered by the bottom of her dress. That thing clings to them like it does every other inch of her body. One hell of a figure.

"I'm well aware."

"Okay then, how much money will it take for you to drop the article?"

"Money doesn't compare to an article like this one—you know that. Come on," you lean forward a bit. "You should be smarter than that."

"How much?!" Yeji says again. There's an edge to her voice now and a stern look in her eyes. She must feel that you're not taking her seriously—honestly, you aren't. You can't count the number of times an agency has tried to block an article by simply throwing money your way. The novelty has worn off. 

"Listen, Miss Hwang, I appreciate the effort you have gone through to manufacture a meeting with me, however, just like I told your PR team, I'm not for sale. Should you want to avoid this sort of thing, then I'd recommend being a little more discreet the next time you want to fuck around." You glance at the door leading out. The exit sign above is blinking erratically, but it serves its intended purpose nonetheless. "I'll see you in tomorrow morning's news."

"No."

"No?" You raise an eyebrow. She may be a star and she may make people go crazy in more ways than one, but if you've learned something about yourself over the years, it's that you aren't as easily swayed by beauty alone, nor impressed by fame.

Yeji remains silent, her eyes looking down to the table in front of you and your mind instantly starts conjuring up scenarios where the girl goes into a screaming fit or starts throwing a tantrum until security drags her sorry ass out the door.

Her head snaps up again. "Fine." Yeji turns sideways and steps around the small table. It becomes apparent that she plans on sitting by your side, after all. She isn't exactly looking at you as she plops herself onto the cushioned bench. "You said 'next time', right?" She begins quietly.

In spite of yourself, a smile appears on your face when you see the wheels turn inside of Yeji's head. "I don't think I understand."

"Yes, you do," Yeji replies dryly. And with the certainty now back in her voice, it appears you've misjudged her.

When you remain silent for a few moments, Yeji eventually gives in and takes a quick, inconspicuous breath before looking up again. Her face is but inches from your own. "Have sex with me tonight."

It takes effort not to burst into laughter in response to such an absurd offer, and as a result, the amusement is probably pretty damn clear in the tone of your reply. "You're cute."

"I'm serious."

You look the girl in the eyes once more, leaning backwards. "You know how much trouble you could get into for trying something like this, right?"

Yeji's jaw clenches momentarily. "Yeah."

You gaze down along her body again. The skin on her thighs seems smooth and silky; definitely worth a closer inspection, and you would be lying if you said the knowledge of her dirty hook-ups didn't have your mind wondering about all the ways she might be willing to work her body in an attempt to sway you. You wonder if she likes it rough; likes having someone grab hold of those black locks of hers and yank her head back. Likes having a cock slammed down her throat. Your thoughts quickly go into a tailspin which has you imagining Yeji crawling towards you dressed up in nothing but skimpy lingerie, a hungry smile plastered across her face and a yearning desire to find out what sort of mess you could turn her into.

"So," you begin quietly. "I don't release an article about the K-pop star who keeps sneaking out into hotels to get herself fucked—and in exchange, I get to sleep with the K-pop star who keeps sneaking out into hotels to get herself fucked. Do I have that right?"

You see the embarrassment cross Yeji's features briefly, yet she still manages to bite out her reply with certainty: "Yes."

For some reason, even though she's been found out and forced into making such an absurd deal, she refuses to lower her gaze away from yours, almost daring you to judge her. You've seen her music videos online—goddamnit, everyone has—and she's sexy as hell. No one would deny that, and she looks stunning in that black dress of hers. It really compliments her figure. Legs go on for days, a toned physique and looking down the front of her dress as she leans into you, a pretty little pair of tits hidden somewhere in there as well.

"I've been propositioned before, you know, but usually that's to get their face on the front page, not off it." You cock your head at her. "How badly do you want this dropped, anyway?"

"What are you trying to say?"

You lean back slowly, deliberately, resting your shoulders against the seat as you feel Yeji's eyes study your every move. Despite the terrible lighting, you can tell she's biting her lip nervously. She's so close that the scent coming off her fills the air around you. It's a pleasant smell. One you wouldn't mind having all over your bed.

"I'll be blunt." Your eyes fall to her chest and you take note of how Yeji squirms under your stare. A tiny smile appears on your lips. "I'd love to fuck you. Hell, anyone in their right mind would love to fuck you. You're a very attractive girl, after all." You nod in her direction. "So, that part will happen if I agree to this deal of yours, however, there's one thing you haven't accounted for."

Yeji meets your stare. Her voice is low, yet resolute. "Which is?"

"You have no idea of whether or not I'm actually going to uphold my end of the bargain."

She pauses in silence and then moves her hand across the table, scooping up your drink and raising it to her full lips. As she knocks back the remainder, the way her slender neck stretches makes you wish you could wrap your hands around it.

The glass hits the table and Yeji licks her lips softly. The sight has you licking your own and for just a second, the both of you simply gaze at each other in silence, almost sizing each other up. Yeji finally shifts closer to you until she's right by your side. Her breasts press up against your shoulder and you feel her warmth on your arm.

One of her delicate hands lands gently in your lap and slides upwards onto your thigh where she starts to draw small circles with her fingertips. You wonder if she notices the slight hitch in your breath as she touches you. "We can go to your office. Sign a document. Legally binding. Non-disclosure. And agree to write a favourable piece about me. You can send out the request to your best columnist there and then. And then you can take me right there." Her words come out in soft whispers and her eyes dart over your face, trying to read your reaction.

Yeji is young and beautiful and she's clearly horny enough to get herself into this kind of mess. It doesn't come as too much of a surprise to you, then, when you feel a delicate fingertip trace over your crotch. "Take you?"

"On your desk. Over your desk," she elaborates shamelessly and with a hint of cheek in her voice. There's a smug expression on her face. She's enjoying herself but also relieved to be getting through to you. "However you want me."

"So, it's an exchange? A dirty deal done in the darkness?"

Yeji smirks. "I prefer to call it reciprocation."

-

Friday night in the office and it still has the passive hum of life, though not much of it. Cutting through the air is the loud clack of Yeji's high heels as she follows you silently past empty room after empty room. The interns putting in the long hours are all on the lower floors, giving you just enough discretion.

You glance back briefly at her before rounding the corner. Just like you had imagined, she seems rather timid now. Head held slightly down and glancing around the place, almost like she's embarrassed to be here with you.

Finally, you reach your private office near the far wall of the floor and wave Yeji inside. As you step up to your desk and turn, Yeji closes the door behind herself and watches you intently. The soft light in here gives you a much better opportunity to appreciate her.

"Come." You gesture her over while simultaneously logging into your PC.

It only takes a few simple clicks to bring up a basic confidentiality agreement which you proceed to edit. "As requested," you begin. "This agreement prohibits me from writing anything related to your numerous encounters with nameless men and women in various hotels throughout Seoul. Failure to abide by these terms enables you to take legal action against me and my firm to any extent deemed necessary."

She places her palms on the desk as you turn the monitor to show her. She reads it. You read here. Leaning forward has the front of her dress hang open a bit further. It's the first glance you get of her red bra underneath and the swell of her chest, just big enough for handfuls. She sees your wandering eyes, yet continues to scan the terms of the contract. It makes you curious if the idea of being looked at like some cheap slut turns her on. Maybe you should try referring to her as such. Would she object? Or encourage?

Yeji nods in approval and you click 'print'. She looks past you, watching it emerge from the machine.

"That's all we need," you say, never looking away from her. There's something mesmerising about her eyes. They're large, they're dark and they tend to draw you in. "Now I can't expose your whorish tendencies."

She looks offended momentarily. "Whorish?"

"Two months. Forty-two hotel visits were recorded. Thirty-five different partners." The chair rolls away as you push it back and stand up, towering over her frame. "Yes, you're fucking whorish, Yeji. Our research was thorough."

"I'm just having fun." She stops leaning on the desk. You both take a step in unison, beginning to round the desk while staring each other down. The moment feels tense. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Oh, I agree completely."

Another step. Another inch towards each other.

"There's no shame in being a bit of a slut. An incredibly beautiful slut."

A third.

You're face to face. Those heels make her almost as tall as you, and you glance at Yeji's lips as the tip of her tongue suddenly darts out over them. The only sound between the two of you is your shared breathing. Yeji tilts her head back slightly and gazes into your eyes, waiting expectantly for you to act upon your desire. Waiting for you to throw her onto the desk and fuck the living shit out of her, just as she asked for.

You wait.

Her lower lip disappears beneath the bite of her teeth.

Wait.

A sudden flush rises up onto Yeji's cheeks, undoubtedly born from her frustration, but you don't miss the excitement hiding within it either. Then, Yeji takes another step forward, one which has you taking hold of her waist, pushing yourself hard up against her body.

Almost instantly, the pair of you go from hesitant to frantic, moving without a single word being spoken between either of you.

Your mouths meet in an open-mouthed kiss of heat, passion and impatience. There's a gasp coming from somewhere, a mixture of a moan as the two of you collide. It takes more willpower than expected not to shove your tongue down Yeji's throat as you feel hers slide against yours in an instant. Fingernails dig into your neck; not hard enough to leave marks, yet not soft enough to be mistaken as anything else than a woman showing what she wants. It's exactly what you wanted to do when you first saw her tonight.

She bites on your lip, sucks on it and goes straight back in. You grab hold of her tightly and shuffle her backwards towards the desk. You can barely restrain yourself. A groan rises up in the depths of your stomach when Yeji parts her legs slightly, welcoming your body in between them.

Every part of you tells you to bend her over and start hammering yourself into her, yet there's still one last detail you must attend to. You break free of Yeji's grasp and shove her roughly down onto your desk.

Her hair fans out around her head and her gaze looks darker somehow, more lustrous under this light. You follow her shape, down, over the bumps of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips and then to the hem of her dress, where bare thigh begins again. She shudders under the weight of your stare. Legs falling apart, invitingly.

You feel Yeji tremble under your tender touch as you run your hand up the outside of her thigh and push up the fabric of her dress. The tips of your fingers bump along the rim of her underwear before reaching her hip where you trace shapes absentmindedly. She's smooth and silky everywhere.

"What is it?" Yeji asks breathlessly when you don't move for a few moments. Your attention remains firmly locked on that final detail. The thin lace material covering her cunt.

You look her dead in the eyes and curl your fingers around it. "Just wondering how many different people have had you like this."

The red lace is pulled aside. Yeji stares at you, seemingly taken aback by your bluntness as you lean down a little further and angle her leg to the side, letting cool air hit every inch of her bare sex. And it's a lovely sight, all things considered. Neat, trimmed and glistening wet. Your hand moves across her thigh to hold her in place. "Usually I'm on top," Yeji replies, finally regaining her confidence.

"You'd rather be riding me, huh?"

"Yes." Yeji's answer comes immediately. Your cock is stiffening already at the mere thought of having her small body bouncing in your lap as she rides your length like a bitch in heat.

She runs her own hands up her slender frame, feeling up the sides of her own waist, skirting around those perky tits and letting out the smallest whimper of anticipation as she caresses the side of her neck. Her eyelashes flutter with desire. It seems the girl enjoys being admired just as much as you enjoy admiring.

"Don't worry, you'll get to ride it soon enough." Slowly, you drag your middle finger up between her folds, making sure you put enough pressure down against the sweet little bud of nerves to make her arch her back at the sensation. A deep inhale catches itself in the back of Yeji's throat when you sink your fingertip inside of her, only for it to turn into a disappointed sigh when you withdraw.

She bites her lip in embarrassment, no doubt mortified that she couldn't keep quiet at such a simple action, although that doesn't stop you from repeating the movement, applying more pressure and then sinking further into her. This time you withdraw and then taste your finger curiously. If the sweet scent wafting off her wasn't enough indication, she tastes as good as she looks.

"How are you so wet already?" you ask. "All from thinking about getting railed over my desk, hmm?" You ask teasingly, lowering your mouth down closer to her pussy and holding your breath for a moment. You can feel the warmth coming off her.

"It's exciting."

"What, fucking a stranger?"

"Yes," Yeji says bluntly. She wets her lips. "There's nothing quite like giving yourself up to someone completely random."

Your hand slides down her calf and gently pulls off her heel. As soon as it hits the ground, it's replaced with a slow and tender kiss on the inside of her ankle. The skin is just as smooth and supple as the rest of her. From here you have a much better view of how her delicate little flower pulses in longing.

Your head dips and you suck hard on Yeji's inner thigh. You delight in the surprised yelp leaving her mouth as you rake your teeth over her soft skin, pulling at it before letting go. It leaves behind a lovely purple bruise which you blow cold air over, soothing the irritated skin. It makes you smile, knowing that mark will remain for a week, to be seen by whoever she fucks next.

"Do you get excited thinking about having me join the list of cocks pounding away at you?"

Without allowing Yeji time to think, your tongue finds her clit and starts drawing shapes around it. "Yes!" You hear her hiss. Your left arm reaches under her thigh and keeps her pinned down to the table while your right does the same, only giving your tongue freedom to dance over her wet cunt.

You sample her thoroughly, getting her used to the feeling of your warm tongue running over every part of her. You apply more pressure to your work once you notice Yeji bucking her hips upwards to grind against your mouth.

"Oh shit." Yeji is panting heavily now, gasping for breath whenever you pay special attention to her clit. Her thighs quiver every so often, tensing around your head. "Don't—don't stop."

Yeji has the nicest legs you've ever laid eyes on. The way they wrap tightly around your head, squeezing the air out of you when you suck down on her swollen clit, it feels heavenly.

Suddenly, Yeji's hips thrust forward, throwing your rhythm off momentarily.

"Mmm, oh—fuck," she whimpers as you feel her body shake and quiver underneath your touch. Your pace doesn't slacken even once throughout.

"Fuck," Yeji whines louder this time. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum."

Already?

You put more pressure on her hips, keeping them pinned down as best as possible, whilst your tongue attacks her with fervent desperation, spurred on by Yeji's declaration. As the seconds pass by, Yeji becomes more vocal, though not with her words—with her actions. Her breathing picks up noticeably. Soon it becomes short and ragged. Her chest heaves. Her fingers claw into the surface below her. Her spine curves beautifully and her lips hang open wide, allowing loud cries to escape her.

She practically sings out for you as her nails scratch at your desk, looking for something to hold on to, something to ground her. Her whole body tenses up for several moments.

Then it happens.

Her mouth opens up wide yet no sound comes out, her back arches almost unnaturally and her juices coat your chin. The silence hangs in the air, heavy, palpable as her walls contract in ecstasy. Then it's finally broken with a loud snap. One of her fake nails pops off and flies across the room as she grips too hard on the edge of the desk.

Then she moans. Guttural, wanton, unrestrained, absolutely filthy. It fills the room, reverberating back to you in a delicious chorus of hedonism and pleasure. She lies there limp with her eyes shut. Her mouth open. Panting heavily. Basking in the glow.

"So easily?" you ask quietly. Yeji takes a deep breath, trying to steady her heart rate. Your hands leave her hips, caressing her trembling flesh, sliding upwards, running up her dress and over the curve of her waist until you reach her shoulders. You tug the straps down the length of her arms and lean closer, pushing the soft material down to reveal the top of her matching red lingerie. Your hand cups the back of her head. She instinctively knows to lift it.

You lower your lips down to her collarbone as you reach behind her to unzip her dress. The sensation of your kisses against her neck draws another moan out of Yeji. A quiet one this time, however. Gentle. Contended.

You kiss upwards, planting several against the underside of her jaw and the corners of her lips. "I can't stop myself," she whispers, opening her eyes just in time for you to press your lips against hers, tasting the lingering sweetness in your mouth. She smiles.

"Let's get you out of that dress," you say and she nods in agreement. "Up," you order softly and Yeji complies, lifting herself high enough for you to pull the material down her waist and over the length of her thighs. It falls to the ground in a heap at her feet. All that remains is the expensive-looking red underwear set she chose for this occasion.

The two of you exchange looks. She bites her lip. She can see the burning lust raging within your eyes. You don't care if it gives the game away.

There's an absolutely wicked smile that draws across her lips as you start to unbutton your shirt. Her voice is all sultry seduction when she says, "I've been meaning to ask you, are you always swayed so easily?"

"Honestly? Not really," you respond calmly, watching how her eyes eagerly take in your torso as you shrug off your clothing. "Maybe there is something about you that's just..." you trail off, unsure of how to end the sentence.

Yeji sits up on the edge of the desk and throws her arms around your neck, dragging you in closer so that your bodies connect. You feel her lips press against your chest in soft kisses. A finger trails over your abdomen, drawing patterns over your skin before moving downwards. "Yes?"

"Different." Your belt is quickly undone and dropped alongside her dress. Nimble fingers begin unbuttoning your trousers. You run your hands through her hair, appreciating how silky it feels running through your fingers.

Yeji has her gaze focused between your bodies, on her hands as they push your jeans down to the floor and you notice the change in her breathing the moment she wraps her hand around your cock.

She kisses her way up to your neck where her lips tickle your skin as she mumbles: "In a good way?"

Yeji presses the flat of her palm against the base of your erection, rubbing slowly. Your head tilts backwards slightly and you allow yourself a low groan. There's a warm puff of air as she giggles quietly against your neck.

"In a great way," you answer.

"Good," she purrs, suddenly tightening her grip on you and giving you several deliberate strokes. You watch intently as Yeji runs her thumb over the tip of your dick, circling it a few times before continuing with her motions. She leans closer, wrapping her legs around your body and placing her mouth by your ear. "I know what I said earlier about loving to ride a cock and all that," her voice is filled with lust. Pure, unbridled desire. "But honestly? I'd do just about anything right now to have you fuck me against this desk."

And that does it for you.

All semblance of control vanishes entirely in a heartbeat.

You drag her from her perch, only to turn her around and push her right back against the desk. Yeji bends over the edge and places both her palms flat atop it. You watch her toned legs move apart as she spreads them invitingly. Your hand reaches out to rest on her ass.

Soft. Round. Supple. Just begging to be fucked. Your dick rests comfortably between her cheeks, which are covered by the flimsiest piece of lace you've ever seen. The pair of you groan together in anticipation at the sensation of feeling each other so intimately. The anticipation of what is soon to come.

"You want me to fuck you, huh?" you ask.

Yeji turns her head to look at you, dark strands of black hair hanging before her beautiful, desperate eyes. "Please."

She waits expectantly as you move back just enough to hook your fingers into her underwear and pull them down slowly, revealing the pretty little cunt you had tasted earlier. The desk is ever so slightly too tall for her, and her long legs stretch to rest on her tiptoes.

You run your hand down between Yeji's pert cheeks, delighting in the gasp of relief leaving her mouth as you cup her heat. Your fingers slip through her slick, coating themselves with her natural arousal before one sinks inside effortlessly. You push it deep, drawing a content sigh from her lips as your digit bottoms out.

A second follows shortly after and she clenches hard around the pair of them.

"Your cock," Yeji demands. You curl your fingers inside of her, delighted by how she struggles to speak when you graze her weak spots. "Want it..."

"But this is fun," you state simply, continuing to explore every inch of her, learning which places cause the biggest reactions and relishing in her quiet hums of satisfaction every time you stimulate them. You'd be lying if you said it didn't make your cock pulse with the need to be inside her. That warm wetness wrapped snugly around your fingers would feel downright amazing around you.

Yeji wriggles her body, pressing her ass against you and whimpering as your digits push inside again. "Please... your cock." Your eyes drop from the beauty bent over in front of you and focus instead on the sight of your fingers disappearing repeatedly between those gorgeous legs. How her muscles clench and her toes curl against the carpet with each and every motion of your digits inside her. She looks ready. She feels ready.

"Well, seeing as you're asking so nicely—"

You slip your fingers out. The whine of loss from Yeji barely has time to fade as you grab hold of her ass with both hands, spread it out, line yourself up with her cunt and sink inside without hesitation. Fuck it. Why go slow?

"Oh god," Yeji moans as your hips meet. Her knuckles turn white as she claws at the surface of the desk in an effort to cope with the feeling of fullness that she's clearly experiencing right now. Her eyes widen and she bites hard into the back of her lip as her cunt stretches around you, accommodating you perfectly. She exhales deeply.

It's all worth it—the workplace compromise. This moment right here where your thick cock rests deep inside of Hwang Yeji's warm, wet cunt. Finally. And holy fucking hell—it's everything you could've ever asked for.

"I knew you'd feel so fucking good," you murmur, trailing your hands up Yeji's slender figure, feeling her back tense slightly when she lets out a small moan of agreement. Your fingers tangle into her long hair, wrap it around your fist, give a harsh tug to pull her head backwards, earning a sharp intake of air—and then you start rutting your hips into hers. Long, forceful strokes fill the air with repeated claps of skin slapping against skin.

The choked moans which tumble from Yeji's lips are music to your ears, encouraging you to keep her pinned down against your desk with a strong hand on the small of her back. Your fingertips press into her flawless skin hard enough to bruise, yet neither of you cares—not when there are far more important matters to attend to. Namely, pounding Yeji's brains out and filling her tight little pussy with ropes of hot cum.

So, you pick up your pace, quickening the tempo and making sure each thrust of your hips goes harder than the previous. Her mouth hangs open in a silent scream with each movement of your body against hers. Every slap of your hips against her ass elicits a reaction.

You're already addicted to her. Everything about Yeji makes you want to hold nothing back, and as you pull yourself out only to slam back inside her depths, you can't help but notice the absolute debauchery dripping from her words when she begs: "Harder. Fuck me harder."

And who are you to refuse her request? She looks incredible anyway, but seeing her eyes screw shut in bliss while a strand of saliva escapes past her open mouth? Nothing would convince you to let up now.

The constant clatter of objects rattling and shifting across the surface of your desk adds a nice soundtrack to the experience. So do the increasingly frequent moans spilling freely from Yeji's lips, each one higher-pitched than the last. They spur you on. Give you the incentive to chase after her pleasure.

And then you feel the telltale clamping down of her walls around you. Your cock is held tightly in her warmth, refusing to relinquish its grasp on you until you've filled her with cum. Until you've pumped your load deep inside of her wanting cunt. You know it's coming and you adjust accordingly. Forcing yourself to maintain rhythm as you pound her pussy into submission.

You yank on her hair and tug her upwards, forcing her back to crash against your torso. You bring your other hand to her chest, sliding beneath the fabric of her bra to cup at her tit. Her hands desperately search for but fail to find, purchase on the desk. She's helplessly suspended between your grasp and your cock as she cums. Helpless to do anything except take it. Take what she's given.

An indecent series of shrieks and wails erupts from somewhere deep within her chest as Yeji's body seizes up and convulses violently against yours. It sets you off. You bury yourself hilt-deep inside of her and explode. Your vision goes blurry, your toes curl, your jaw clenches shut and your teeth grind painfully together.

It takes everything within you not to collapse forwards on top of the girl you're filling to the brim, instead relying solely on the strength of your grip to stay upright as your cock jerks erratically inside of her, pulsating again and again, releasing stream after stream of creamy spunk deep into her.

As soon as the world stops spinning and the fog starts clearing from your mind, you're met with the sight of Hwang Yeji trying desperately to regain any semblance of control over her own body as well. She's slumped atop your desk, panting heavily, her body twitching occasionally.

You lean down, peppering a gentle trail of kisses down the side of her neck, stopping briefly at the space just below her ear where you whisper, "You look stunning like this."

It takes Yeji several seconds before she manages a reply. She eventually opens her eyes halfway and gives you an exhausted smile. "Like what?"

"Sweaty. Thoroughly used. Filled to the fucking brim."

Your comment draws a faint giggle from her which ends abruptly the moment you drag yourself backwards, slipping your softening cock out of her cunt along with the rush of semen that spills from her and trickles onto your desk.

"Oh god," Yeji mutters as the mess slips from between her legs. She pushes herself up from her prone position and lifts herself off your table, leaving behind a lovely sticky patch where her crotch had rested. You stumble towards your chair and plop down on it, resting your back against the cool leather whilst admiring Yeji's flushed features.

"I still haven't gotten to ride your cock yet."

"I don't know if I—"

Yeji drops to her knees in front of you and grabs the base of your shaft without a second thought, squeezing it lightly and causing it to stiffen slightly. "Well I do," she declares.

She leans closer.

You catch sight of your reflection in her dark brown eyes just before Yeji extends her tongue, running it carefully over the sensitive skin of your cock before planting a wet kiss against the tip. Then she does it again. And again. The movements become a pattern until, suddenly, you're enveloped by the heat of Yeji's mouth.

"Ah," you gasp as she takes you. So sensitive to the touch of her tongue as it swirls around you. She hums approvingly at your reaction and slides deeper, taking your semi-erect cock further into her mouth as she continues to suck you off. Her head bobs slowly up and down, gradually coaxing you back to life until she slips you out from between her lips with a pop.

"That got you hard fast enough." Yeji grins. She stands up straight, and then your jaw falls open slightly at the sight of Yeji reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra. It falls to the ground in slow motion. Delicate pale skin stretches beautifully over perky breasts topped with cute pink nipples. God damn.

Yeji straddles your lap, trapping your body underneath hers. It doesn't take much to push you inside. To have her slide down the length of your shaft once again. She sits still for a few seconds, grinding her hips subtly against yours whilst biting on her lower lip. "Fuck, this feels good." She rotates her hips in little circles. "Feel that? I'm still full of your cum."

The pace is slower now. You're content to sit back, listen to the sounds of wet, sloppy sex filling the office air, and watch how her beautiful features contort with pleasure when your cock scrapes against a weak spot. There's something incredibly arousing about having such a famous idol sitting in your lap, fucking herself silly on your dick alone. She uses it like a toy to chase after her own pleasure.

One of her hands laces itself into your hair, tugging on it harshly. You retaliate with equal ferocity by sinking your fingers into Yeji's plump ass. It earns you a wonderful hiss of approval which comes accompanied by a tight squeeze around your shaft as her free hand moves down between your bodies and furiously rubs at her clit.

It's not long before you realise that she's close, and judging by her frantic behaviour, you figure she isn't looking to make it last longer.

Yeji whimpers cutely. Her head falls backwards, exposing her perfect neck. An expanse of unblemished, untouched skin that simply demands to be marked. Claimed. Taken.

And so you lean forwards, place your mouth on the soft skin and start sucking on it, nipping at the supple flesh. You feel her tighten around you instantly.

"Oh god!" She cries out. Yeji tries to bounce in your lap but fails miserably. She's no longer in control of her body. All she can do is quiver, cry out, and gasp in ecstasy as another orgasm surges through her. It's nowhere near as powerful as the previous two. Instead, it's drawn out. Lasting longer and keeping her moaning throughout.

When it's over and done with, you release your hold on her neck. In return, her exhausted head comes to rest against your shoulder. Her hot pants hit your cheek as she lay there limply against your frame.

"Too much?" you tease and Yeji scoffs. You give her a gentle spank and ask, "That's all you've got?"

"Just catching my breath."

She puts action to word immediately and picks herself back up. There's a determination etched all over her face as she brings both arms to rest on your shoulders, locking you in place and supporting herself on top of you. The expression she wears leaves little room for misinterpretation; this one is yours.

Yeji begins riding you again. Slowly at first, letting herself grow accustomed to the sensation of being filled again. Then faster. Harder. Using your cock to fuck herself on. Taking charge once more. You happily allow her to have it. Glad to let the beautiful starlet do whatever the fuck she wants with your body. Relishing the fact that you're balls-deep inside of her and she loves every inch of you.

"I need it," Yeji whines, slamming herself down on top of you again and again, her soft ass smacking against your thighs repeatedly. Her hair billows wildly around her, sticking to her sweaty skin, flying every which way without rhyme or reason, driven mad by her insatiable desire to keep on going. She keeps saying things under her breath, nonsensical at best, unintelligible at worst.

But her efforts get results. As much as you want to prolong the moment forever, your body can only handle so much. Pleasure courses through your veins like electricity, setting alight every nerve ending within your body until finally, you feel that familiar heat rise from somewhere deep within.

Yeji must sense it because she suddenly kicks it up yet another notch, crying out incoherently as she drops down on your shaft once more, twice more—a third time sends you toppling over the edge. You grip her hips tight, digging your fingertips deep into her flesh as your cock pulses powerfully inside of her cunt, painting her walls white.

She drags it out. Uses gravity to force you as deep inside as possible, allowing every single drop to spill inside of her again. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull as you grunt loudly. Any coherent thought becomes impossible as you cum.

Once more, it takes several moments before you come back down from the clouds. When reality sets in again, Yeji is still straddled atop your lap, watching you with an amused grin stretching from ear to ear. You're left with nothing else to do except admire how her flushed cheeks accentuate her gorgeous features even further.

"I know. I know," she says while stroking your cheek. "I'm amazing."

"You're trouble," you correct breathlessly.

She rolls her eyes at your choice of words and then glances downwards. You follow her gaze just in time to see her raise herself off your spent member, allowing several thick strands of cum to dribble from her cunt and onto your leg. You both share a brief laugh at how filthy it looks before Yeji clambers off you and steps away, leaving you completely bare whilst she reaches down to retrieve her panties.

"No," you blurt out immediately. Your interjection catches her attention and she halts mid-motion, quirking an eyebrow curiously.

"No?"

"You can leave them."

She gives you a knowing look but acquiesces anyway, stepping aside and grabbing her dress instead. "Disgusting," she winks with a coy smirk.

[fefe-the-cat]

No real reason for me to do this since the story's being told from the protagonist's head, but it sounded fun, so here I go:

AITA for seducing a guy for the sole purpose of killing him?

I (23F) [age subject to change] am a hired assassin. I was hired to assassinate the king of the kingdom I'm based in. It's difficult to infiltrate the castle because, you know, king and all, but I'm a woman and not completely unfortunate looking, and he had a wife, but the marriage was arranged, so I figured if I could just, y'know... make him interested...

Well, my plan was to deliberately contract the plague, seduce the king, get close to him, and give him the plague, thus killing him. And it worked... sort of.

He got the plague. His wife was appointed Queen Regent, meaning until he recovered or another claimant stepped forward, she had absolute power.

She found me and later told me that while I was running a ridiculously high fever, I admitted to everything. And, for some reason, she didn't even seem mad at me? Anyway, what does this girl do with her power? Says her husband can't come back to the throne.

Uh... he survives.

Anyway, he gets kicked out of the palace and the Queen Consort is now the Queen Regnant. I've since gotten pregnant and quit killing for a living, and the Queen and I are great friends, but she has no heir, and she seems quite content like this. She's decided that my child will be her heir assuming they outlive me.

She insists that she forgives me, and all signs point to honesty, given she put my child in line to the throne and made me one of her closest advisors, but I'm still feeling really bad. AITA?

if you're trying to get into the head of your story's antagonist, try writing an "Am I the Asshole" reddit post from their perspective, explaining their problems and their plans for solving them. Let the voice and logic come through.

[zorosangell]

hiii! hope you’re doing good and I’d like to give in a suggestion, could you make a fic about gnreader being choppers mother figure and both zoro and reader are fighting for the parental role 😭😭

(they later on share it lol)

⛥ﾟ・。 endgame

synopsis: prequel to inn -- when chopper asks about your past, zoro reminisces on your history together... and is reminded of exactly what you are to him.

cw: THIS IS A PREQUEL TO INN, fluffly fluff, comfort, takes place pre-timeskip during alabasta, young reader is so cute, protective zoro, ZORO IS WHIPPED, i really loved writing this.

a/n: i really, really loved writing this

"Hey, Zoro!" Luffy called, eagerly. "Look over here! Look at what we're doing!"

"We're training!" Usopp added, clapping his hands together.

Begrudgingly, Zoro looked up from Chopper's fur, glancing toward the boys, who were standing under a huge stream of water like it was a ninja's waterfall.

"Real funny," he nodded, sarcastically, before returning to what he was doing.

After saving the kingdom of Alabasta, the king invited the crew to the royal bath, hoping to clean up after dinner.

The young doctor had asked for help washing his back, and the swordsman played it off as having nothing better to do.

But, in actuality... he enjoyed helping boy, feeling a sort of fatherly obligation toward him.

"Zoro?" Chopper piped up, quietly, eyes trained forward as the man went back to carefully scrubbing his fur.

"Yeah?" Zoro hummed. "What is it?"

"Do you know why (y/n) acts the way she does?"

Confused, Zoro raised a brow, unsure of what he was talking about.

"What do you mean?"

"Well... you know," the boy slightly stammered. "She's so nice... and kind... she cares for me so well even though I just joined the crew."

He looked down at himself, making sure to choose his words carefully.

"Even Doctorine didn't warm up to me this quick... but she treats me like she's known me all her life. And I figured since you two grew up together, you could tell me why."

'So, that's it...'

Zoro nodded, finally getting the picture.

"I see what you mean," he confirmed, moving on to the boy's shoulder. "(y/n)'s always been like that... even when we were kids. There's no rhyme or reason to it."

He glanced up, the memories rolling back like calm waves after a storm.

"She just... is."

"I thought I told you to stop following me! Cut it out!" a ten year-old Zoro exclaimed, glaring at you sharply.

"But... you're bleeding..." a nine year-old you reminded, worried, as you tightly clutched the handle of your first aid kit. "Kuina beat you up really bad this time."

"Shut up!" he barked. "I don't need your help! Or anyone else's! I'm gonna get stronger all on my own!"

You flinched at his tone, but held strong, despite the tears welling in your eyes.

"Well, you can't be the strongest if you can barely lift your arms!"

Zoro's eyes widened, surprised.

In your months of chasing him, attempting to patch him up, you had never raised your voice.

Not even once.

"I believe in you! And I wanna help you! So let's make a deal!"

Brows furrowed with determination, you pointed at him, firm in your disposition.

"Every night, I'll patch you up, and help you out with normal stuff, like food and clothes! And in return, you work your hardest to become the strong enough to beat Kuina! Sound fair?"

"No!" he scoffed, incredulously, and incredibly confused. "Why are you doing this?! You don't even know me! What do you get out of that?!"

"I get to watch you!" you grinned, jumping at the chance to gush. "You're so cool! And tough! I'm no good at sword-fighting, but you're amazing at it! I can tell you're gonna be a really great swordsman someday!"

Happily, you looked up at him, your starry eyes bringing a faint tinge of pink to the boy's cheeks.

"And I wanna be there to watch the whole thing!"

For a moment, Zoro paused to think, weighing his options before caving with a sigh, unable to say no to your hopeful smile.

"...Fine."

"YAY!"

Without hesitation, you pulled him into an embrace, overwhelmed with joy.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! No hugging!"

Zoro chuckled, moving the scrub brush to the young doctor's head.

You were the strangest, most persistent girl he had ever met... but the only one that believed in him from the very beginning.

Even if it was at your expense.

"What were you thinking?!" a twelve year-old Zoro scolded, haphazardly applying band-aids to all your cuts and bruises. "You know Haru and Kenzo are stronger than you. Why'd you try to fight them?"

An eleven year-old you sniffled, using the back of your hand to wipe away the stray tears rolling down your cheeks.

"They were making fun of you," you mumbled, looking down at your lap. "They said three-sword style was stupid, so I tried to punch them... but I missed and they ganged up on me."

"Did they, now?" Zoro glared, turning to the two boys next to him.

Quickly, he struck them both in the back of the head, giving them two giant welts and adding to their multitude of injuries.

"What do you two say to her?!"

"We'wre sowwy..."

Chopper lit up, relieved to her you had no ulterior motive in your kindness.

"(y/n)'s been this nice all her life? Wow! I wish I met her sooner! She sounds like a really great friend!"

Zoro nodded, fighting off the small smile threatening to rise to his lips.

"I was lucky to meet her when I did... her enthusiasm always gave me something to look forward to."

He sighed, dreamily reminiscing on the thought.

"Even when the future was unclear..."

"I can't believe it! We're actually leaving!" an eighteen year-old you squealed, watching the island of Shimotsuki get smaller and smaller as you clung to the mast of your small fishing boat. "This is so exciting!"

"I know," a nineteen year-old Zoro agreed, watching with an air of pride. "Feels like a new chapter. One step closer to becoming the strongest."

You nodded along, until you were suddenly hit with a thought, which forced you to sit down.

"But... I can't help but wonder," you started, glancing up at him. "Why'd you bring me along?"

He raised a brow, confused, and silently asking you to elaborate.

"You know I'm not very strong. Hell, I can barely throw a punch," you reminded. "I won't be much of a help..."

"All those years ago... didn't you say you wanted to watch me become the Greatest Swordsman in the world?" Zoro asked, rhetorically. "You can't do that cooped up in a dojo."

Your eyes widened slightly, not expecting such a straight-forward answer.

"I promised you I'd work hard to become the strongest. So you better believe you're getting a front row seat," he smirked, plopping himself down next to you, slightly rocking the boat. "You're stuck with me, (y/n). There's no backin' out now."

You replied with a chuckle, carefully resting your head on his shoulder, blissfully unaware of the flush on his cheeks.

"Thanks, Zo'."

He nodded, slowly and warily looping an arm around your shoulder, letting out a sigh of relief when you didn't move away.

"Don't mention it."

"Wow! I'm so happy!" Chopper cheered, jumping up from his seat. "I'm gonna go dry off and give her a big hug to say thank you for all the stuff she's done!"

Quickly, he turned to Zoro, his blinding smile warming the swordsman's heart—though he'd never admit it.

"Thanks for telling me Zoro!"

Without a word, Zoro nodded, and Chopper zoomed off back to the rooms, leaving the man alone with his thoughts.

Glancing at the divider separating the men and women's bath, Zoro listened closely, tuning out Luffy and Usopp's roughhousing to see if he could hear you.

And he did.

From beyond the great wall flowed in your silvery laugh, the delightful sound hitting his ears like the world's greatest song.

Closing his eyes, the swordsman rested his arm on his knee, and his cheek in his palm, allowing himself to fully experience its beauty.

God, he was so in love with you...

Words couldn't even begin to express.

You were the most consistent thing in his life.

His personal nurse.

His number one supporter.

His best friend.

His childhood crush.

If he was being honest, he didn't know where would've ended up if it weren't for you, or the person he would've turned out to be.

You taught him the value of kindness and compassion at such a young age, and were never afraid to wear your heart on your cheek if it meant pushing him closer to his dream.

And you knew him so well.

He couldn't have found a better partner in crime if he'd searched for a thousand years.

Muscles relaxing, a small smile rose to his lips as your laugh floated into the air once again, accentuated by the occasional, adorable snort.

There was no one else in this world for him.

There would be no one else in this world for him.

You were absolutely, positively, without a doubt... his endgame.

[ineedpaigebuckets]

team movie night and they all tease pazzi for being cuddly and flirty

she knew

warnings: smut!!!

an: LONGER ONE. not as good as i hoped. but let me know what you think and give me some more requests. more small blurbs coming either today or tomorrow!!

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

todays a movie night. my favorite. i love movie nights. but something about this one just isn't hitting the same. i'm kinda nervous, my breathings just a little bit off, and i can't seem to get comfortable. me and paige are on a small couch by ourselves while everyone else is scattered across the room. the movie isn't very scary but it's a thriller action movie. i cant sleep after watching those. i hate guns, every time a gun goes off it takes everything in me not to flinch. paige notices, of course she does, she's my best friend how could she not.

"az, you okay? not comfy?" she asks quietly a hand placed on my arm stopping me from changing my position for the hundredth time.

"mhm, m'fine." i yawn and meet paige's eyes, even in the dark the crystal blue of her eyes is showing.

"what times it?" i ask watching her pull out her phone and show it to me. 10:00, late for me.

"late for you isn't it?" she teases making me shake my head. she'd always known me better than anyone else. god she was so perfect every single thing about her was undeniably perfect.

"i don't like this movie." i whisper making a face when another gunshot goes off. paige know, of course, we have movie nights just the two of us all the time and she knows when it's before i go to bed, it needs to be a cute romcom or cartoon or something. and she always agrees.

"i know, you know what come here." she positions herself to sit sideways with her back against the arm rest opening up her legs for me to lay between them on her stomach. i give her a look almost asking if she's sure before curling up on her stomach. my hand flattens against the soft skin exposed by her shirt riding up and i move i to her side rubbing my thumb across her skin. i'd always had this nervous habit whenever i was anxious to rub my thumb across someone's thumbnail it always helped me calm down.

"nervous?" paige asks as she gives me her hand. i nod and start to gently rub my thumb across her nail. of course she knew, she knew everything about me. i'd always wondered, what if we were more than friends. i'd always wished we were. before i can close my eyes to really relax kk decides she has other plans.

"aww azzi sleepy!" she coos as she walks over to take a picture of us. i groan and place my hands on paige's stomach to slide myself up hiding my face between her neck and the couch. paige's hand holds my head close to her while her other slips against my bare back under my t shirt.

"kk, come on it's late. leave her alone." paige groans at kk and it just causes kk to scoff. and turns to ice.

"bro look at them." she grins as she points to us. i just huff against paige's neck.

"kk please. she's tired." i smile against her skin as she stands up for me. it's cute i admit. kk sulks away and slumps back down causing me to ease out of her shoulder a little. i place my head on her chest but of course our position isn't quite perfect. her thigh is between my legs. i know she can feel the heat radiating off of me when she quickly jerks her leg away from mine. fuck. that's embarrassing.

"az?" she asks almost asking for some sort of signal i know what she's gonna ask. her eyes are wide and almost desperate. fuck. she had me wrapped around her finger.

"yeah?" i whisper in a soft voice my chin resting against her chest. i didn't realize just how close our faces, our lips were until she started talking and i felt her breath on my lips.

"how you feelin?" the second her breath is on my lips a shiver runs through me and my hand slips under her shirt again making her let out a soft whine. i'd never heard her make that sound before. if flipped a switch in me. im gonna make her make a whole lot more sounds than that.

"paigey can we go to bed?" i give her big puppy eyes but she can see the hint of possessiveness underneath them as my hand drifts further up her bare stomach. she lets out a small nod. i've never seen her like this, she was always in control always loud and cocky. i didn't know i could get her so submissive like this. i press a soft kiss against her jawline before getting up and stretching.

"paige and i are going to bed." i groan tiredly as i walk past everyone and into paige's bedroom with paige following right behind me. the second we're alone her hands slip around my waist from behind maneuvering around me to push me against the door. her hand splayed out over my stomach.

"az." she whispers as her lips ghost my ear. there she was. cocky dominant paige was back. but when i had a mission, it was gonna be done.

"lay down." i hiss moving my head to the side leaning it against the back of the door.

"such a princess." she whispers not moving an inch. her teeth graze my ear nipping at my lobe gently.

"my princess." she pulls away to look me in the eye her thumb brushing my bottom lip. she thought she had the upper hand. and after that nickname, she just might.

"fuck." my head leans back as i close my eyes. before i know it her thighs slipped between my legs, her hand is on my neck, and her lips are on mine. so many thoughts were running through my head but they were all over powered by her. her. paige. my paige. before i can think her tongue slips in her mouth and her hand moves to the back of my neck to deepen the kiss as much as she can. i subconsciously move my hips against her, grinding against her leg.

"fuck az." she whispers against my lips as she fumbles her hands form to the hem of my shirt.

"imma take this off m'kay princess?" she knows what that nickname does to me already. i close my eyes with a nod lifting my arms up so she can slip it off her fingers slipping under the band of my sports bra.

"wanna get you paige. please." my last ditch attempt at trying to take control. i wanted to get her right so bad. something flipped in her eyes when she heard my voice.

"do you?" she whispers as her fingers dip into the waistband of my pants over the fabric of my panties. it's almost like she's gonna let me, but her actions say otherwise.

"i'll let you." she whispers huskily as she pulls off of me and throws her shirt off and across the room.

"whatever you want princess." my hands are on her jaw and my mouth is on hers within seconds pushing her towards the bed.

"get on the bed." i push her gently not enough to make her fall but enough to give her the hint. she falls submissive under my touch laying on the bed with her legs spread just a little.

"so perfect." i whisper slipping her basketball shorts off to leave her in boxers.

"gonna get you so right." my voice soft as i trail kisses down her stomach. i fucking love her abs and she knows it. she bucks her hips up just a little signaling to me.

"az." she begs her voice almost panting as i slip her boxers down.

"i'll be good. wont make you wait." my lips press a soft kiss against her bare clit before leaning back up to kiss her.

"tell me what you want." i press my lips to hers as. wait for an answer.

"fingers, mouth, you azzi, want you." her words send a jolt through me. my fingers slip through her dripping wet folds as i connect my mouth back to her clit.

"s'wet for me huh baby." i grin into her my fingers just slipping into her curling into her as i lick her skin softly. she lets out a gasp as i move my fingers in and out. she's wiggling underneath me within seconds.

"fuck az. so fuckin perfect for me." i hum against her lettin out vibrations against her. the soft whines coming out of her mouth make me crazy. i feel her closing around me and i meet her lips with mine.

"you close?" i ask softly, she was such a gentle person why not return the favor. she doesn't even talk she just nods and squirms under me.

"s'okay i gotchu. come on let go for me." the second i give her the go ahead her band snaps and she's letting herself go all over my fingers. it's beautiful.

"so beautiful paige. oh my god." my hands come up to my mouth as i lick them clean, making pure eye contact with her the whole time. i feel her eyes widen. my hands find her cheeks as i rub my thumbs against them softly. she lets out a soft smile but as soon as i'm about to speak she's ontop of me ripping my panties off before i can even speak.

"gotchu." she grins placing kisses along the inside of my thighs. before her tongue slips through my dripping wetness. i'd already been fucking dropping for her. the second her nose pushes into my clit her tongue dips into me. my hand flies to her head holding her as close to me as i can.

"fuck paige- cant wait." i whisper, she knew. she always knew, even if we'd never done this before she knew. she grinned against me before fucking her tongue into me faster.

"s'okay princess. whenever you're ready." there it goes. the name princess fucking did something to me i couldn't imagine. it was dirty, everyone called me princess but with paige it was different, everything was. there i was gushing against her tongue. she licked up every drop before laying on my chest.

"so fuckin perfect." she whispers and we just lay in silence for a while taking in eachothers embrace.

"paige." i whisper a few minuets later. she looks up at me with her big blue eyes.

"i love you." i whisper, it wasn't like we'd always said it. it was different. she knew it. as always.

"i've loved you for years az." her lips brush my jawline in a sweet slow manner.

"just waiting to make you mine." i bring her lips to mine. i didn't know what to do. but she did. she knew.

"always gonna be yours" she whispered, all the words i needed. i smiled against her lips.

"always yours paige." and that was the start of something new. but was it really new when it was paige and i. no. because she knew me. more than anyone else. she knew.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 2

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2])

I'm glad nicky came up with a cool new tune because according to period movies and shows greensleeves is the only song anyone ever knew

look at that meek little smile, ughhhh. nicky is like two days old and this asshole has already figured out he's the perfect prop for her murder sprees. and these poor women are calling her sister and are willing to help too.

the spell is te accipimus in circulum, we accept you in the circle, and yes that makes me cry a little. we accept you in our community. and the spell is yellow air magic, which sounds like the most empathic kind if Lilia is any indication.

that's interesting, you can't really tell that well from screencaps but go rewatch the scene, this witch is making mushrooms grow with yellow magic instead of green?? is it just a spell (she is holding a book) or have I been getting it all wrong and color has nothing to do with the type of magic one has?

or maybe??? the color depends on the coven you're in?? the salemites all had blue magic for example. and now that I think about it the stone circle is a protection spell but it's not red/orange.

the meaning of this scene is so glaring dear lord. agatha was never going to give these women a chance to prove that yes, there are people out there who could love and help and accept her. she has shut herself up to that possibility a long time ago.

and she stole the soup too. awful.

I've seen all the different theories about nicky needing to feed on witches too, or nicky needing soul sacrifices to survive because he's the son of death etc. we don't have enough evidence to prove anything yet, but personally I headcanon nicky as a totally normal kid, that makes this story even more tragic.

and aww that baby suckling on the little pudgy fist

nicky doesn't look that happy about what he's been asked to do, does he?

we establish that nicky was sickly (maybe he was born with some internal defect that rio temporarily patched up?) we also see him steal the bell agatha will use for her Road scam in the future.

and we meet yet another witch being kind and wanting to help.

agatha: I love this six year old so much I'm gonna make him accessory to murder

dO yOU ShaME YouR MOtHER

and the big fake gasp too. as usual this bitch has conned a whole community

like, she's convinced herself that other witches are bad and are after her WHILE relying on witches's good hearts to con and kill them. what sort of mental gymnastics???

color goes from yellow to purple. nicky waits outside while his mom commits murder, it's not a good look on agatha. completely fucked up, actually.

(I'm terrified that the goat will end up being an agent of mephisto or something idiotic like that, lemme tell you. I hope they're just keeping it for milk and company.)

and here's the million dollar question. nicky has seen his mom kill literally since he was born, and now he's old enough to start realizing what that means.

oooh I know that look, that's agatha when she's put on the spot. she avoids his gaze, she can't be sincere with him.

and of course she's teaching herself spells from a book. nerrrrrrd

nicky, bless his soul, appears to give it a good thought and then offers a practical suggestion. I guess he wouldn't mind to have a roof on his head and some friends too.

GREAT acting from kathryn here. the quick OH SHIT face followed by the super final NO, with her jaw so rigid. in typical agatha fashion, when she's upset she becomes avoidant.

this is evanora's legacy. despite agatha's immense love for nicky, she is passing all that pain down and inflicting it on him.

remember when she called billy a survivor? this is the greatest asset in her opinion, the one she wants to teach her son. the truth is, she is angry at witches because she is scared of them, she's scared of being targeted again. but look at that kid's dark circles, I can't believe she's making him sleep in the woods, sick as he is!

really really fantastic subtlety. agatha wants to sound wise and strong, but she looks scared, uncertain, guilty.

see how nicky looks at agatha while he sings? he's checking to see if she's noticing, because his mom likes music and likes his voice. he's afraid he has upset her and wants to make her smile. he tried to reason with her, and now he tries to soothe her. this is what happens when you have an immature parent, a child will want to help, they will try to fix things. they'll end up parenting their parent, and it should always be the other way round.

agatha takes the bait. she's relieved that the conversation has moved to a safer subject. but oh, this script is so good. this is a mostly innocent, mostly sweet remark, but with a possessive undertone. don't forget that you are mine, she says.

and still, the love is real. even in a fucked up situation like this, these moment of happiness are precious and genuine and will linger on. look at how adoringly nicky looks at his mom, she's literally the sun and center of his small world, and that's how agatha likes it: she created nicky because she needed someone who could be hers without any baggage or consequences. but it turns out that raising a child is not a cheat code for love, it's one of the most difficult, most significant and impactful decisions a human can make.

go to episode 9 part 3

[luiina]

I've had this headcanon that ended up developing into an AU.

The "normal" dimension exists, and it's the so called main one. Basically think of it as a copy of our own universe. Some DSMP characters come from there (like Wilbur, Schlatt, Quackity and some others. Also Sally, Fundy's mom.)

Then there's the "Minecraft" dimension, that has players instead of citizens that don't really belong anywhere and just fluctuate between servers. They have their own system, their magic, their gods and all that. But they get divided in different sections of the universe. Think of it like an onion, and the skins that it has. Each layer is a section where different servers exist. Traveling between the "layers" is harder but it can be done. You do need to have an elevated level of magic in you to do that. Most people stick to their own layer and travel between the servers that they offer. The reason why the sections of the Minecraft universe exist is because of all the deities and servers that exist. They need to be managed separately to be easier to keep track of.

I think that servers like SMPEarth, the DSMP, the QSMP, HermitCraft and the OSMP take place in the same layer of the universe. Don't ask me why.

The ones that have lived in the Minecraft dimension know about the "Normal" dimension, but they can never access it. Rips and "bridges" between the realites can be created, however. That is also why most characters know about different countries and can speak the languages that people from the normal dimension do, instead of them all speaking in villagerian or some shit. They don't know much about it though.

Some of the players that have always lived in the MC dimension (I think) are Bench Trio, Fundy, Techno and Phil (they are deities so it's different) , the Dream Team, Eret, etc.

So how does somebody from one dimension go to the other? I think it needs to be done in a significant way. Just like C! Wilbur needed for it to rain and thunder to get back to Utah, he would have needed something similar to get into the DSMP as well. A storm of some sort. Also, it needs to be some special date. Like a full moon for example. The breaches can be caused by paranormal activity too, like the Bermuda Triangle or some shit. Also, you need to desire to escape. You need to desire to get away. So that the universe can drag you alobg to the rip in the reality to the Minecraft Universe because you set the intention for it to happen.

That's it. I like to think Wilbur was a 20 year old that got stressed because of Sally's pregnancy and decided to take his tiny boat out in the sea for a bit. And then he crashes and ends up on the DSMP's shore. Sally, later on attempts to join him but fails at something and instead of coming out human on the Minecraft Universe she's a fish and passes the pregnancy to Wilbur so he's the one to give birth... somehow. I think that is canon. Wilbur did give birth to Fundy. Sally ends up figuring out how to go back to their original universe, and does so, leaving Wil and Fundy behind.

How exactly can Phil be Wilbur's bio father if they are from different universes? Phil is an angel, there has to be some way he can will it into existence. I'm not sure how. Wilbur gets giftted with very potent magic capabilities, as are some of the people that come from the other universe. As well as sleeper divine genes. He has them, and he is capable of bringing them to light. He just dosen't know how to. He does have an amazing intuition, sense of vision and smell and a very sharp space awareness. And pointy ears and fangs, for the fun of it. He also makes killer potions, because he charges them with magic, since he has more magic than the average player (aka Tommy).

This is also why he had a ghost. Because of his high level of magic. Ghosts are considered to be magical beings. Jschlatt also had a ghost, but it was less powerful than Wil's. Since Schlatt comes from the Normal Universe, he too has an affinity for magic, even if it isn't nearly as powerful as Wilbur's. Ranboo also had a ghost. He was half enderman. That is classified as a monster, just like the skeletons and the zombies. They are considered magical beings as well. The endermans more so, since they come from the End, one of the most magical places in the Minecraft Universe. That's why he had one too.

Anyway, I got carried away. I really love this AU of mine. Might update this if i add onto the lore.

the entirety of the dream smp gets so much funnier when you remember tftsmp the haunted mansion. where they basically imply the rest of the world is normal and calm and there are schools and infrastructure and that the dsmp area is just a group of extremely isolated weirdos

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 18

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

A/N: not gonna lie, i wrote & rewrote this chapter a bunch of times and i'm STILL not sure if i fuck with it completely. hopefully it doesn't suck too bad asjkdrnfjk happy reading (maybe)!!!!

For a couple of long seconds, Isla hears nothing but an insistent ringing in her ears. Every other thought eddies out of her head, the only thing running through her mind being oh, no and how the hell did they find out? Oh so slowly, panic begins to bloom in the middle of her chest and gradually spreads out as her gaze flickers between all of her friends, their hardened expressions suddenly making painful, horrible sense.

How did they find out? How did they find out?

Oh, God. She waited too long, didn’t she? Isla should have told them the truth when she had the chance, because no matter how they found out, she can’t deny it. Denying it now means she can never confess the truth without hurting them more, and her brain searches for the words she can’t find. The cardboard straps of the bag in her hand burns on her fingers, heart pounding like a drum.

“Um, how—” Her throat is hoarse, tight. “Where did—”

“Sarah got a picture,” Cleo says, her tone measured as brown eyes meet Isla’s green. “Of you and Rafe. Kissing. Courtesy of Topper.”

Isla’s heart falls to the pit of her stomach, eyes falling shut in a tense combination of disbelief and defeat. Fucking Topper. Anger brews, but it’s overpowered by the nerves that tighten every part of her. She and Rafe hadn’t been careful. Topper must have seen them in the hallway or something after they ran into him. Her heart is racing even as she wishes for it to calm down—as she wishes for Rafe to be here with her.

Oh, this isn’t how she wanted them to find out. God, when she finally felt like she was ready to tell them the truth, Topper fucking Thorton beats her to it and does it in the most uncouth and fucked up way. Maybe their reactions wouldn’t have been positive ones if Isla was the one to tell them, but at least they would have heard it from her and not from someone who is always looking for ways to hurt them in some way. The desire to punch Topper returns tenfold.

“Look,” Isla starts carefully, eyes opening as she looks at them all. “I was—I was going to tell you about us—”

“Us?” Kie repeats, eyes widening under furrowed eyebrows as she gapes at her. Kie’s arms are crossed, the tension rolling off of her in waves, making Isla’s throat work. “You guys are an us? Are you guys in a relationship?” Isla presses her lips together, and it’s an answer enough. Kie’s shoulders rise and fall, her expression akin to horror. “What the fuck, Isla?”

Suddenly, it was like everything Isla had practiced saying to her friends, all of her reasoning and explanation, vanished. She’s caught so off guard that she can’t remember anything that she planned on telling them, and is instead scrambling to find the right words to make this better, somehow. Even when a voice in the back of her head tells her no soothing word of any kind can soften this blow that has rocked all of her friends.

“It was—it sort of just happened,” she says desperately, forcing the words through her tightened throat as she rests the bag of books and flowers down by her feet. Some of them gape at her, some don’t even look at her. Isla’s palms grow clammy. “We kind of kept running into each other and, I don’t know, one thing led to another and—and—” She exhales roughly, her voice a little meek as she says, “He’s really not as bad as you think.”

“Are you kidding me?” Pope snaps, sitting up straight as he narrows his eyes. JJ tenses up. “Are you forgetting the amount of fights we’ve gotten into with him over the years? I’m pretty sure we all know exactly the kind of person he is.”

Isla tries not to flinch at Pope’s harsh tone and harsher words against her boyfriend. “But you guys haven’t noticed that he hasn’t started anything with you for a while now?” Isla tries helplessly, gaze flickering over them. John B’s jaw clenches as he looks away. “I mean, I know you’ve gotten into it with Topper and Kelce, but Rafe hasn’t gotten into it with you, right?”

She knows she’s right, but none of them agree with her. Kie scoffs, shaking her head as the incredulity remains on her face. “I cannot believe you’re defending him right now. He’s an asshole, Isla!”

“Stop calling him that,” Isla snaps before she can help it, but she doesn’t regret defending him, even when Kie pulls back slightly, blinking in surprise. Isla meets her gaze steadily, chest tightening at the betrayal that flashes across her sister’s face. Swallowing, Isla looks at the girl sitting on the couch. “Sarah, come on. He’s your brother.” Sarah’s gaze flickers, meeting Isla’s, and Isla sees the conflict waging war in her friend’s eyes. “I-I know you’ve seen the change in him, too. He’s different now. He’s different with me—”

“How long?” Isla cuts off at the sound of JJ speaking for the first time, her shoulders tensing as she turns her head to the right to look at him. He turns his own head, ever so slightly, to meet her gaze, and Isla’s heart stops. JJ’s blue eyes have never looked so icy. “How long have you two been together?”

Isla’s heart thunders. Her body feels the weight of everyone’s gazes. She looks to the floor ahead of her, her voice a whisper as she answers, “Two months.”

Someone sucks in a sharp breath in the deathly still silence following Isla’s revelation. She lifts her gaze, forcing herself to look at her friends because she isn’t ashamed of her relationship, even if she is worried about their reactions. John B lets out a rough breath, a sardonic chuckle as he drolls, “Wow.”

Isla takes in a breath. “Look, I’m sorry that you guys found out this way—”

“But you’re not sorry about dating Rafe Cameron?” JJ spits out, turning to finally look at her fully, his expression a combination of disbelief, anger, and the same betrayal mirrored on Kie’s face.

Isla steels herself. “No, I’m not. Come on, guys,” she tries, shaking her head. “You know me. You know I’d never be with someone I genuinely thought wasn’t a good person. But I’ve gotten to know him. I know the kind of guy he is—”

“Oh, barf,” Kie cuts her off with a roll of her eyes, and Isla’s teeth press together tightly. “Are you serious?” She leans forward, arms still crossed and gaze locked with Isla’s. “He’s obviously playing you.”

Isla’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Playing me for what?” she asks. “What the hell does he get out of pretending to be a good person just to date me?”

“Not to date you—he just wants to fuck you,” JJ says tightly, his crude words damn near making Isla flinch as she looks at him in hurt. Cleo purses her lips, but Isla doesn’t miss the disapproving look she throws towards JJ, who promptly ignores her as his narrow eyed gaze remains on Isla. “Maybe he’s just getting some kind of twisted revenge, I don’t know, for Sarah becoming one of us. Maybe—” He takes a step towards Isla, eyes hard and unforgiving. “He’s trying to prove once a Kook, always a Kook.”

The tightness in Isla’s chest intensifies to the point of pain, lips parting slightly as she gapes at JJ, a slight crease in her forehead as his words land like a slap. An angry JJ always knows the right words to say that cause the maximum damage, and making Isla feel like an outsider in her own friend group is a sure fire way of making her feel small. Pressure begins to build behind Isla’s eyes, but she forces the tears back, not letting them gather as she lifts her chin in defiance. 

“We all welcomed Sarah with open arms when she and John B started dating,” Isla points out, voice surprisingly steady. She doesn’t want to bring Sarah into this, but she needs to point out their hypocrisy.

“Sarah isn’t Rafe,” John B answers tightly. Next to him, Sarah twists her lips to the side, that confliction still evident in her expression as she looks between Isla and the others. “She’s never thrown a punch at any of us.”

Exasperation and desperation form an ugly combination inside of Isla. “It’s not like you guys are innocent, either!” she exclaims, gesturing to all of the guys. “You guys have started plenty of fights with them for no reason.”

Kie scoffs, leaning back against the wall. “Nice,” she mutters, and Isla’s heart aches fiercely because, God, she had so desperately hoped her sister would be on her side, at least. But she won’t find an ally in Kie, and that fucking hurts.

“What do you want from us, Isla?” Pope asks, frowning up at her. “What’d you expect was going to happen after we found out? Whether we heard it from you or from anyone else?”

“I—” Isla falters breathlessly as she looks at each of their faces. Various degrees of anger, hurt, and disbelief still stare back at her. She knew this wouldn’t be easy, but the tightness in her chest is still uncomfortable. Her voice shakes despite her best efforts as she answers, “I expected you guys to trust me.”

Only Sarah’s expression softens, and maybe Cleo’s, upon hearing Isla’s words. Not the guys’. Not her own sister’s. 

“Trust you?” Kie asks, that disbelieving edge creeping back into her voice. “You’ve been secretly dating Rafe behind our backs for months. You can’t talk about trust when you’re the one who broke ours.”

Isla presses her lips together. Despite her pain, she knows Kie has a point. “I was going to tell you when the time was right,” she informs them. “I just—I wasn’t ready for this before. I knew you’d all react this way so I kept putting it off.”

“You knew we’d react this way because you know how fucked this is,” JJ counters. His eyes narrow in contempt, one corner of his mouth peeling back in a sneer. “Out of all the people on this damn island, you chose him? The Goddamn prince of the Kooks?” he scoffs with a shake of his head.

Isla’s throat works, her jaw clenching. “He’s good to me,” she says quietly but firmly. 

Pope shakes his head, staring at Isla as if she’s lost her mind. “He’s going to screw you over.”

No, he won’t, she wants to argue. But her gaze sweeps over them all one more time, and Isla knows that she hasn’t gotten through to them. Still, she wants to try. She owes it to Rafe and to their relationship. “He cares about me. He looked out for me before we even got together. He—he helped me when my car broke down. And when the cops showed up at the Boneyard party. And Kie, he—” She looks at her sister, whose eyes have sharpened. “He stepped in at the last party, remember? With Topper. He stopped things from escalating even more. Guys, he’s not as bad as you think, okay? A person can change.”

“You’re delusional,” JJ says sharply, and Isla tries not to flinch.

Sarah sits up, frowning slightly at the blonde. “JJ—”

“No,” he cuts her off, facing Isla with a tightened jaw, arms crossed. His cheeks are flushed slightly, angrily. JJ’s gaze is hard, unrelenting, as he says to Isla, “You need to decide; him or us.”

Isla stills—the whole room stills—as she stares at JJ with widening eyes and parted lips. It feels as though no air is going into her lungs as she chokes, “What?”

“It’s pretty fucking simple,” JJ snaps, Isla’s heart picking up its pace too quickly as she gapes at him. He cannot be serious. This can’t be happening. “You’re either with us or with him. But you can’t have both.” He gestures to Sarah. “She doesn’t have a choice because he’s her brother. But you started dating him—” He practically spits those words out, like they’re poison in his mouth. “Knowing the kind of asshole he is.”

“He’s not an asshole!” Isla argues tightly. “Can we just—please—” She helplessly looks at the others, and Isla knows that she hurt them with this, but pain lances through her at the realization that none of them are outright coming to her defense. It’s gotten so out of hand, so fast, and the panic and dread war inside of her. “You guys know me,” she tries again desperately. “I wouldn’t be with him if I thought he was a bad person. Why can’t we just leave the past in the past?”

“You can’t expect us to suddenly be all buddy-buddy with Rafe,” Kie says, frowning. “He’s never given us a reason to—”

“I’m giving you a reason! Right now!” Isla cuts her off, hand pressing to her chest and feeling her heart thunder against her palm. Her skin is warm from anxiety, cheeks probably flushed from the heat that spreads through her. “He’s been nothing but sweet and kind to me. I’m your sister—your best friend,” she adds, looking at each of them. “My word should be enough.”

JJ shrugs. “I don’t really trust liars.”

Isla’s jaw clenches, throat tight. “JJ,” Sarah chastises, her throat working as she looks around the room. “Look, come on, guys. This is getting a little crazy. I mean, Rafe isn’t some—some monster—”

“Of course you’d defend him; he’s your brother,” Pope scoffs with a roll of his eyes. “But he’s never given any of us a reason to think differently of him,” he adds. His gaze meets Isla’s sharply. “And I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can take your word for it.”

A rough breath escapes Isla, defeat creeping through her like an unwanted shiver. Her word isn’t enough? She knew. . . She knew they would react badly, but this? The pressure returns in her eyes and she drops her gaze to the ground, blinking quickly. Her chest is so tight, it makes it difficult to breathe as the hurt burns through her. To know her friends don’t trust her, that they aren’t willing to hear her out and see things from her perspective. . . Her throat dries, unable to swallow the massive lump formed in the middle of it.

She never thought she would feel like such an outsider amongst her friends. Isla knows she’s always had one foot in each life, Pogue and Kook, sometimes more so than Sarah. It had never been a point of contention before. But this has blown up far more than she thought it would. Maybe she was naive in thinking that they could talk and work things out—

No, no, she wasn’t naive. She had trusted in her friends, in the relationship she had with them all. She had thought that their friendship would be important enough for them to want to see and hear her side of things, to accept her relationship that she already had been hesitant in getting into because of her friends’ reactions. But Rafe. . . He makes her happy. So genuinely happy, in a way she’s never experienced before with anyone else. How can she let that go? How can she let any of them go? Is it selfish of her to want both? She didn’t think so at first, but now. . .

“Him or us, Isla,” JJ’s hard voice breaks through her thoughts, forcing Isla to look up at him. His gaze is still sharp but, God, she sees the subtle hope that swims in those blue eyes. Hope that she picks them over Rafe. It tightens her throat even more.

She gives one slow shake of her head, her voice quiet but defiant as she answers, “I’m not choosing.”

JJ’s jaw works, his chin lifting. Disappointment flashes across his eyes, mixed with surprise, but it disappears as quickly as it comes. He wants her to choose them, but Isla can’t do that, not if it means not having Rafe. In the same way, she can’t just choose Rafe but also lose her friends. She wants both—why can’t she have both? Why does she have to choose? What kind of sick ultimatum is this?

Shrugging, JJ says, “You saying that is an answer enough. Don’t come crying back to us when he fucks you over.”

Silence descends and Isla wonders if they can hear her heart pounding in her chest. Her eyes burn, throat locked, and she’s suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to flee. They won’t listen to her—not like this, not when the truth is a fresh wound. “Okay,” she whispers, clearing her throat after as she steps back towards the door. “Obviously, this has gotten a little out of hand.” An understatement. “We can talk again once we’ve all calmed down.”

JJ and Pope scoff at that and Isla tries not to flinch as her gaze meets Kie’s. Her sister stares at her for a brief moment before turning her head, effectively looking away, and Isla swallows as she opens the door. “Okay,” she mutters again before walking down the steps and away from the house. 

Every step she takes away from the Chateau feels heavy, part of Isla wanting to go back and continue the conversation until they’re all on the same page. But hurt blooms through her chest, spreading everywhere else as her nose stings and vision blurs from the onslaught of tears. They way they all talked to her—the tones of their voices and the looks on their faces—was awful. Sure, she and her friends have gotten into arguments in the past, but never like this. They never belittled her before. Never made her feel so small. Her best friends, her own sister, were downright mean, and a breath shudders out of Isla as she quickly wipes away a tear that rolls down her cheek.

“Isla!” She freezes upon Sarah’s voice before turning around, watching as the blonde jogs up to her. Isla sees the paper bag in her hand and bites the inside of her cheek. “You forgot this,” Sarah says, coming to a stop in front of her and holding the bag out.

Isla meets her gaze, sees the way Sarah’s expression softens because no doubt she takes notice of Isla’s red rimmed, glassy eyes. Sarah’s lips turn downwards as Isla takes the bag from her, sniffling because she can’t help it. “Did um—did Rafe buy you the flowers?” Sarah asks haltingly.

Biting her bottom lip, Isla nods. “Yeah, he did,” she answers, unable to help the way the corner of her mouth kicks up slightly.

Some of the unbearable tightness in her chest loosens, just a fraction, when Sarah mirrors the subtle smile. It disappears, though, and her expression falls, a little pleading. “Just give them some time, okay? They’re pretty raw right now. I-I’m sure they’ll come around?”

“You think?” Isla asks. She aims to sound hopeful, but it comes out unconvinced. “Will you?”

Sarah is silent for a beat. “I think what JJ said is unfair. And I think I owe it to you and my brother to not jump to conclusions.” Her hand reaches out, and Isla’s throat works when Sarah takes her hand, squeezing it reassuringly as her soft brown eyes meet Isla’s green. “I’ll talk to them. It’ll be okay, Isla. Just—just give them some time.”

Isla nods a couple of times, appreciative. At least someone is on her side. “What happened in there was fucked up,” she mutters, lips turned downwards. She’s still angry, but right now, she feels more tired than anything else. A little too defeated to focus on the anger.

“It was,” Sarah agrees with a frown. “It went too far. I’ll talk to them.”

“Thanks,” Isla says, squeezing Sarah’s hand.

“Are you—how are you getting home?” Sarah asks.

Isla shrugs. “I’m gonna walk up to the park, I guess. Clear my head a little before heading home.”

Sarah nods, though her forehead creases in worry. Isla is mildly surprised when she pulls her in for a hug, but Isla welcomes it, eyes squeezing shut to keep back the new burn of tears. “I love you. It’ll be okay.”

“I love you, too,” Isla responds, her voice only slightly shaky as she returns the hug and hopes that Sarah is right.

*****

The chain of the swing creaks slowly as Isla sways back and forth gently, her feet scraping against the dirt with every movement. Around her, kids run around and play. In the distance, a group of guys play basketball at the fenced-in court. It’s late afternoon, so the sunlight isn’t so bright, more clouds in view, but Isla’s gaze remains on the ground ahead of her.

You’re either with us or with him. But you can’t have both.

Was she naive to think that she hadn’t expected the ultimatum? Or was it just faith in her friendship with all of them that had her believing that they would be able to talk it out and they would see where she was coming from? Not accept her relationship right away, but it wouldn’t have gone so horribly the way it did.

Now, away from them, Isla no longer holds back the tears that burn her eyes. They roll freely down her cheeks, a breath shuddering out of her as she swipes a hand under her sniffling nose. Her stomach is in knots, tight and painful, as she squeezes her eyes closed to shut out the conversation replaying in her head. 

Her sister, her friends—these people she loves and has spent so much of her life with—called her untrustworthy, had practically insinuated that she was crazy for dating Rafe. Her head is at war, knowing where they are coming from, but also hating how everything went down. Isla could barely stick around to continue the conversation, feeling their words beat her into defeat until she has to retreat to collect her thoughts and wits before even thinking about broaching the subject with them again.

And. . . What? If she doesn’t break up with Rafe, will her friends stop talking to her? Has she really committed that big of a fuck up in their eyes? Why can’t they just see it from her eyes? Listen to her? Doesn’t she deserve that much? One relationship is going to be the cause of destroying a handful of friendships?

“Isla.”

A breath catches in her throat at the sound of Rafe’s voice, lifting her head and blinking away her tear blurred vision to see him standing before her. His expression is tight with concern, forehead creased and blue eyes flickering to look at every inch of her as he lowers himself on his knees, his hands on her legs.

“Baby, what happened?” he asks, squeezing her knees as he looks up at her so earnestly.

But Isla stares at him in mild disbelief, drinking in the sight of him as she asks, “How’d you know I was here?”

He rarely, if ever, comes onto this side of the island. He’s only ever been here for the parties at the Boneyard, or when he’s secretly given her rides to John B’s. “Sarah texted me,” he answers, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “She—She told me you told them and it didn’t go well.”

A sad scoff escapes her, sniffling after as she says, “I think that’s an understatement.”

Rafe’s jaw works and she can tell, easily, that he’s pissed off. But he pushes it aside, his voice softening as he takes her hands. “Come on. Let’s sit,” he says, standing up and pulling her off the swing. One hand remains holding hers, while the other grabs the bag of books and flowers, and Isla lets him lead her away from the swingset and to a spot in the park that doesn’t have too many people around.

He sits down at the base of a tree, giving her hand a gentle tug to get her to join him. She settles down numbly, sniffling as she mutters, “God,” quietly under her breath as she wipes away the errant tears from her cheeks.

The trunk of the tree is wide enough for them to sit side by side, his arm pressed to hers as he grits, “I should’ve been there.”

Isla shakes her head. “It might have just made things worse,” she says sadly.

Rafe loosens a rough breath. “How’d they find out? I didn’t ask Sarah.”

Exhaling slowly through her nose, Isla turns to look at him, her expression tightening. “Topper,” she says, making Rafe rear back. “Apparently he caught us at the hotel. Sent a picture of us to them, and God—” Isla leans her head back, looking up at the deep green leaves of the tree. “This was not how I wanted them to find out. He fucking made things worse than they could’ve been.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Rafe mutters, running his fingers through his head as he shakes his head, no doubt wondering about Topper’s Goddamn audacity. “So what—what did your friends say?” he asks carefully, looking at her with his forehead creasing in worry.

Isla’s throat dries as she thinks of their words again, her muscles tightening with the hurt that is still present—and probably will be for a while. She brings her knees up, arms wrapping around her legs after fixing the skirt of her dress. “They. . . They were pissed,” she starts, exhaling slowly as she stares ahead at a group of kids in the distance climbing around on the play set. “They feel like I-I betrayed them, and JJ, he—”

She cuts herself off, lips pursing to keep her lower lip from trembling. Rafe’s hand comes to rest on her back, his touch warm and comforting as he rubs her back reassuringly. It’s much needed, his hand on her, knowing that he’s right there next to her, right where she needs him. “What’d he say, baby?” Rafe asks gently, even as she hears the edge creep into his voice.

Isla swallows the lump in her throat, nose stinging and tears gathering as she blinks them away rapidly. “He wanted me to choose. Between you and them.”

“He—” Rafe exhales sharply and from her peripheral vision, she sees him shaking his head incredulously. “He gave you an ultimatum? That’s—are you kidding me?”

“I wish I was,” Isla murmurs desolately, eyes falling shut briefly. Some tears escape, but she wipes them away as the hurt remains frozen in the center of her chest, uncomfortable and tight. There are some other things JJ said, too, but she doesn’t want to tell Rafe, knowing it will only piss him off more. Or, worse, make him want to confront her friends.

He just wants to fuck you.

You’re delusional.

I don’t really trust liars.

Each word was a slap, still stinging right in her heart. Isla wipes her cheeks again, an elbow resting on her knee and leaning her cheek against her palm. “I told him I wasn’t choosing,” she continues, shrugging one shoulder. “I don’t want to—I can’t,” she shakes her head before turning it to look at Rafe. He’s looking at her with such concern, touched with helplessness and anger, and Isla’s lips tremble as more tears gather. The emotions of the fight fly to the surface, and in Rafe’s presence, she doesn’t try to push them back.

“I knew they wouldn’t be happy, but it just—it got so fucked, so fast,” she breathes out, her words trembling. “They wouldn’t even hear me out. Whatever I said just—it didn’t seem to matter and—and they’re my best friends. And they just. . . Didn’t want to listen. Even Kie—” Isla inhales deeply, trying to steady her breathing, but now that she’s given permission for the tears to come, they won’t stop. Rafe’s hand slides up, cupping the back of her neck comfortingly. “Kie wasn’t even on my side. But Sarah was.” Rafe takes in a breath at that, looking both surprised and relieved, especially when Isla gives a hint of a smile at that. It was probably the only silver lining in all of that shit show. “She said she’d talk to them and I appreciate it but they were—”

She squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head as their words echo in her mind. For a moment, she wonders if she’s being too sensitive, if she should have just expected all of this. Isla is at war with herself, fighting between logic and shattered hope and expectations. “They were what, baby?” Rafe quietly asks, his voice so soft it’s painful.

“They were just mean,” she says with a breathless, hollow laugh. And maybe that’s a childish thing to say, but it feels too accurate at this moment. Her friends can be crude and brash, but never mean. No matter what kind of fights and arguments they’ve had in the past, they never made her feel like this. Her friends have never made her feel so alone. “If I stayed, it just would’ve escalated even more and I just—” She shakes her head with a deep breath. “I had to get out of there.”

Rafe squeezes the back of her neck gently, reassuringly. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, frowning as he shakes his head. “Do you—I can talk to them—”

“No,” she cuts him off, straightening. When Rafe purses his lips, unhappy, Isla sighs. “I appreciate it, I really do,” she assures him, sniffling as she puts a hand on his thigh. “But if they’re not going to listen to me, what makes you think they’ll hear you out?” she asks with a sad, knowing smile. “It’s just better to let them be for—”

For how long? Days? Weeks? Is this something they can get over quickly, or will it take time? Isla figures it’s the latter, but the amount of time it’ll take is a mystery. All she can do is hope that they all can come out the other side of this intact.

Rafe lets out a breath, nodding. “What do you need from me?” he asks gently, almost a plea that tightens her chest. There’s an intensity in his eyes and a crease in his forehead that tells her he’s desperate to help, not knowing how, but wanting to nonetheless.

Isla presses her lips together, the corners lifting into a solemn but appreciative smile. “Just need you,” she tells him honestly, watching as his expression softens upon hearing her words before he shifts, winding an arm around her waist, the other going under her knees.

She lets out a breath as he shifts her so she’s sitting sideways on his lap, resting her head against his shoulder as he leans back against the tree and holds her to him, his hand resting on her thigh, fingers against her skin. Isla swipes the back of her hand under her chin when she feels a tear rivulet, throat working. “God, I probably look like a mess,” she mutters, fingers then swiping across her cheeks as she looks up; she definitely has mascara running down her face.

Rafe tilts his head as he moves his hands to cup her face, turning her head to face him. He looks down at her, something flickering across his blue eyes as he no doubt takes in her tear streaked face, his own thumbs swiping along her cheeks. “A beautiful mess,” he corrects, grinning, and Isla knows he both means it and is trying to lighten her mood.

It works, a huff of a laugh escaping her as she rolls her eyes. Shoulders slumping, she says, “I guess we don’t have to sneak around anymore.”

Her tone takes a hopeful lilt as Rafe’s hands lower to rest on the sides of her neck. The late afternoon sun peeks through the leaves, bathing him and a spot of sunlight hits his eyes just right, making his blue eyes glimmer prettily. “You sure you wanna be seen with me?” Rafe smirks teasingly, arching one eyebrow. “I have a bit of a reputation.”

Isla breathes out another laugh, arms sliding around his neck and holding him close, her chest pressing to his. She pushes closer to him, the tip of her nose bumping against his as her gaze drops to his lips briefly. “I don’t scare easily,” she murmurs as they share the same breath.

Rafe’s eyes meet hers, flickering down to her lips before lifting again to lock gazes once more. Isla’s heart stutters as he leans closer and captures her lips with his, feeling a new kind of freedom as she earnestly kisses him back without worry of anyone spotting them—or, more accurately, caring if they do. She sighs into the kiss, muscles finally relaxing in relief at the closeness. Rafe’s hold on her is gentle, his fingers threading into her hair as her lips open under his, his tongue sliding in to dance with hers as he angles her head.

When they pull away moments later, Isla settles back against him, head against his shoulder and forehead tucked along his jaw. “I’m sorry about your friends,” he murmurs.

The remorse evident in his tone makes her heart clench. She knows Rafe isn’t crazy about her friends, but he wants to make the effort because he knows how much they mean to her. Isla had been hoping her friends would show the same thoughtfulness. It’s a lot to wrap their heads around, sure, but the conversation didn’t have to take the kind of turn that it did. And even if they did come around, would Isla be able to forgive them for their words?

She sighs. One problem at a time. “You don’t need to apologize,” she tells him truthfully.

Rafe huffs out a breath. “What I need to do is give Topper a piece of my fucking mind,” he mutters, an edge creeping into his voice. When Isla glances at him, she sees the muscle in his sharp jaw working while feeling him tense against her.

“He’s not worth it,” Isla mumbles, even if she doesn’t entirely agree. She just doesn’t want Rafe getting into a fight, though she has no doubt Rafe can easily take Topper.

“It’s ultimately his fault you were crying, so I’m gonna disagree with you on that,” Rafe says, his arms around her tightening a fraction, like he wants to protect her from her own tears.

Isla lets out a gentle laugh. “Gonna defend my honor, Rafe Cameron?”

He turns his head enough to press his lips to her forehead, Isla’s eyes fluttering shut at the gentle contact. “Damn straight; day and night.”

He holds her close, and she believes him.

[hamliet]

what do you think of Cherri bomb and Sir Pentious as a ship?

I love them. I think their arcs offer a great contrast and that they will likely end up together.

I think the key to Cherri's character is in the pre-canon song "Addict."

Yeah, you fell in love But you fell deeper in this pit While death rains from above So count your blessings 'cause this is it You're not letting it go So what if I misbehave It's what everybody craves You already know So come if you're feeling brave And fancy yourself a mate You want it, I got it, see what you like? We could have it all by the end of the night Your money and power, my sinful delight A hit of that heaven and hell, a hell of a high

Cherri's addiction is more than a physical drug--it's to the idea of love, but it's never actually love. She knows this as well, but she plays the part of the desperate lover to get what she can (money and power), because "this is it"--ie, it's the best that she can get.

The way Cherri acts is very much in line with this persona she has. As much as everyone may gasp and express shock over her antics, that's really what they crave (and the parallel to how the real world treats women they pin as hypersexual and tsk at as "messy" is certainly deliberate). They don't want Cherri; they want her image.

That's why Cherri is so unamused by Pentious at first. He's no different from the rest, right?

Well, wrong.

Pentious seems to really be driven by the idea of money and power, but in a neat juxtaposition to Cherri with love, he doesn't actually seem to want these things so much as he likes the idea of them. What Sir Pentious seems to actually want is love--of any sort. See:

He created the Egg Boiz ostensibly to help him in his quest to take control in turf wars, but he loves them and weeps when he's supposed to send them away. He becomes incredibly loyal to Charlie and everyone at the hotel after she forgives him, not remotely holding a grudge against Vaggie or Angel even--to the point where he dies to save them.

His death also emphasizes what he pretends he wants vs. what he actually wants. He tries to do a big heroic sacrifice, but... it does nothing. He's snuffed out before he can even strike. But, what he did was love in action, and he did it because he knew the hotel staff loved him too. Essentially, reailzing he is loved helps him to show love. He shows love not just with a sacrifice, but with a kiss and a farewell confession to Cherri--the first hit he's actually made on her that went over well.

Sir Pentious's idea of love also contrasts with Cherri's in that it's neither founded on sex nor repulsed by it. He doesn't really seem to understand most of Angel's nonstop innuendos. At the same time, he expresses sexual interest in Cherri. When he first proposes that he and Cherri have sex, he fails because he says exactly what Cherri's used to:

Cherri: I'm sorry, why would we have sex? Sir Pentious: ...because I'm having sex with everyone!

In other words, he says Cherri's just another face, an idea, no one special. But in the end, when he kisses her, he says this:

Miss Cherri Bomb, I love you. Remember me!

Thereby acknowledging both Cherri as a person whom he actually loves, and his own desires--in other words, loving and expressing that love to Cherri helps Sir Pentious become more fully himself. This is then further emphasized by his rebirth as an angel in heaven.

[reccyls]

hi!! sorry to ask, but what are mai’s symptoms in mitsuhide’s sequel?? like how would the tragic end play out? thank you!

Hello! Please don't apologize for asking, I'm happy to answer questions! (If I do know the answer, of course). I'll put the details beneath the cut, I've actually finished the tragic end as well

Mai's symptoms here are that she sometimes fades out of existence. She becomes invisible to others, they can't hear her voice, and she passes through the people she touches. It starts off as just a few seconds, brief enough that other people think it's a trick of the light, or maybe they're too exhausted. But eventually it becomes nearly permanent.

There is a way to check for Mai's presence, however: the ringing of a bell. It was something that belonged to her in the modern day, and she gave it to Mitsuhide to repair. When he gives it back to her, it is now something that belongs to both the past and the future, so the universe can't erase it since it "belongs" to the past. Therefore, Mai always brings the bell with her and rings it to make her presence known.

The original speculation regarding the cause of Mai's symptoms were her actions to save Nobunaga from the Honno-ji incident. However, it's later theorized by Sasuke that it's not Mai saving Nobunaga's life that caused the timeline warps: it's actually her saving Mitsuhide. Not just once (he should have died after Honno-ji as well) but twice (during Yoshiaki's trap). Therefore, the guidebook pages going blank (and eventually Mitsuhide's name specifically also disappearing from the guidebook) are the unvierse trying to correct this by causing Mai to disappear, thus making history go back on the right track.

This was said in confidence to Mai. However, Mitsuhide happened to overhear this. Now, Kicho and Motonari haven't been sitting their idly either. So Mitsuhide figures he'll kill two birds with one stone: he leaves the Oda forces and begins raising a third army on his own, to draw strength away from Kicho and Motonari. He is planning to go into battle against the Oda forces and lose, cementing Nobunaga's continued rule, and also dying to erase himself from the timeline to stop Mai's symptoms.

(Note that earlier in the route, Mai had almost run away silently from the Oda to try and avert this: maybe if she wasn't around to influence Nobunaga or Mitsuhide anymore, the symptoms would stop getting worse and Mitsuhide wouldn't be driven to drastic measures to try and stop them. Masamune is the one who catches her and helps to convince her to stay. Masamune is also the one who confronted Mitsuhide after he declared his intention to leave; he calls the two of them "a matched pair" given that their immediate first thought is to do some sort of self-sacrificial stunt to save the other.)

In the tragic ending, Mai figures out Mitsuhide's second aim during a war council with the others. She absolutely does not want Mitsuhide to do this, and so, she silently leaves the war council and decides to go through with her original plan. She writes a farewell letter for everyone and then vanishes without a trace. The letter is discovered the next day by Ranmaru, who realizes what Mai has done and informs the others.

The tragic ending then skips ahead a few months, to a final confrontation between the Oda, and Mitsuhide's rebel army. Mitsuhide is soundly defeated, and he comes face to face with his old comrades for the first time in a long time. However, all Nobunaga does is to give him a letter: the one that Mai wrote before she disappeared.

Here is where I clearly remember the language used in the text, it was that evocative: after reading the letter, Mitsuhide fell to his knees "as if his soul had left his body"; everything he had done, all for nothing because Mai was gone.

As penance for his betrayal, Nobunaga gives Mitsuhide a mission: find Mai. No one believes that she has truly disappeared forever.

The last scene of the tragic end is another timeskip, this time a year or perhaps more later. Mitsuhide is wandering the country, constantly searching for any trace of Mai. Earlier in the route, there was a discussion about how Mitsuhide's life was a road that led to hell. He muses to himself how hoping against hope is a kind of hell in itself, but one that he willingly walks into, because he must believe that Mai still exists, and that he can find her.

And we end with the sound of a ringing bell, carried by the wind. One more chime, this time fainter. Mitsuhide smiles and asks if she is playing tag with him. But regardless, he gets up, and follows the sound, because he would follow her anywhere, even to the depths of hell.

[periru3]

On interrupting "Defying Gravity"

Before I jump into this, let me first say that I really liked the Wicked movie, much, much more than I expected to. This isn't a post intended to hate on the movie, just to critique a specific element of it.

So anyway, yesterday I left a comment on a video of someone performing a trumpet solo over an instrumental of Defying Gravity basically saying maybe the movie's unnecessary, momentum-killing pauses would be more bearable if they were full of fun trumpet riffs. Someone responded to this comment asking if I'd seen the stage show, cause the pauses are the same in it. I have indeed seen the show several times, but not for years, so this comment naturally made me curious about how different the pauses are, because even with my mediocre memory, I was fairly certain there's a pretty big difference. And whoo boy is there ever.

So for starters, they were right that many of the pauses in the movie are the same ones as in the show: there are four pauses in the original, and 6 in the movie. Well, sort of - for the purposes of my "pause count," I'm counting the long chunk of time where she's free-falling after "it's me" as a separate pause from the pause right before that (which is in the stage show) because it comes after a musical fake-out where the instrumental builds as if she's going to resume singing where she does in the original, but then she doesn't for another minute. The other added pause is, notably, right before the climax of the song (I'm counting the "unlimited" bits that were added here as part of that break), and lasts over a minute, breaking up a rhyming couplet (the others from the original staging all fall at the ends of verses). So that's a choice.

But the main issue for me isn't the number of pauses (though I do think the added ones are much bigger momentum-killers than the original ones), but moreover their length. None of the pauses on stage last longer than a minute, whereas all of the pauses in the film do. On stage, Defying Gravity lasts about 7 minutes and 40 seconds from the first "I hope you're happy" to the last "doOoOoOown," with 2 minutes of that being pauses for action and dialogue that are cut from the soundtrack recording. The movie's Defying Gravity, on the other hand, lasts 13 minutes and 55 seconds (nearly 9% of the movie's runtime), and 7 minutes and 45 seconds of that are spent on pauses. Yes, you read correctly: the amount of time spent not singing Defying Gravity in the movie, between when the song starts to when it ends, is greater than the entire amount of time spent on Defying Gravity, including when they aren't singing, in the stage version. It is, in fact, nearly 4 times the amount of not-singing squeezed into less than twice the total song time. And let's be real, that's just.... waaaay too much.

So anyway, if anyone other than me was wondering exactly how different the pacing is between the two versions, the answer is "very," and now you know the exact numbers to back that up. Cause I find knowing numbers fun.

[burningcheese-merchant]

I'm stuck on a train for the next 5 hours, so I'm choosing to lash out at @cuppajj specifically by barging in on the Beast Ancients AU again and having my little fan baby Pepper Jack continue with the crushing loneliness and longing for connection wrought by this godforsaken world he's randomly been trapped in, as per the previous installment

"But Merchant, you sort of wanted to do this anyway" yeah, well, the dummy missile strike got moved up. It's early. Gotta make do on that ACME deposit, they don't do refunds

Just gonna call this "The Skeleton in the Closet" because that's sort of who Spice seems to be here and who/what Jack is essentially talking to

"Father?" Pepper Jack called out, a slight ache in his throat from trying to control the volume of his voice. "I'm here."

No answer - none besides the usual hum of the machines that filled his ears as he flew down to the bottom floor of the laboratory, evading the stairs entirely. Fair enough, he supposed.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he said as he approached the container. "Celestial Cheese kept me again. Kept fussing over me like she always does. I had to wait until I knew the hallways were empty to come."

He stopped and stood mere inches from the edge of that hulking monstrosity of steel and glass, staring down at the man trapped within. A frown began to tug at the corners of his lips.

"She..." He paused, looking away. "She doesn't leave me alone often. She's always hovering over me, talking to me... or talking AT me, I guess. I don't really think she listens to me when it's my turn to talk."

Another pause before he shook his head and turned to face his "father" again. "No, that doesn't matter. What matters is... you."

Gone was the frown now - and in its place, a small, tentative smile. "How are you? How have you been?"

He placed his hand on the glass, near Burning Spice's face. Where, at the angle Pepper Jack stood and peered into the strange red liquid, it looked as though his little hand was resting on his cheek. "Did, um... Did you have good dreams while I was gone?"

What did Burning Spice dream of in there, Pepper Jack wondered? What images danced on the insides of his eyelids? What imaginary sounds drummed against the walls of his skull? What thoughts and memories flooded his slumbering mind as he lay still as death inside of his prison?

"I want to say that I did, but... that wouldn't be true." That frown was starting to come back. "I... I never slept much. I always get up when the sun does, no matter when I actually go to sleep. It's why Mother always nags me to go to bed early. But... here, in this place, I can't sleep at all. The harder I try, the wider awake I get. I'm... I'm too scared to sleep here, I think. And then whenever I manage to, I have nightmares. My fears follow me into my head. Into my dreams."

He curled his fingers against the glass, in an attempt at a comforting gesture he knew would go unappreciated. "I hope whatever you see in your dreams isn't as terrible as what I see in mine."

The glass felt cold against his cheek when he laid his head against it - like it always did, whenever he did such a thing. But he did so anyway, pushing past his instinctive disdain for the cold and into what he imagined to be Burning Spice's shoulder.

"I wonder if you'd sleep at all, if it weren't for this," Pepper Jack mused. "My father... Mother always says he's like a light switch at night. Awake one moment, asleep the next. Are you like that, too? Or is that something else Celestial Cheese took away from you?"

Pressing his ear down and listening yielded no sound he could consider a response. Even if he was desperate for just one.

"Maybe... Maybe if you weren't trapped in there, we could sit somewhere and stay awake together. We could talk or play games. We could tell each other stories. You... You must know different ones from my father, right? Because you're different from him, technically? I bet they're really interesting. I'd like it if you told me them."

They had to be better than Celestial Cheese's stories, if nothing else at all. But perhaps his thoughts on the matter were tainted by his hatred of her voice.

"I..." Though he fought against it, a yawn nevertheless rose from his throat and pried his lips open, louder than he'd wanted it to be. "I'm tired. I can't sleep. I actually thought about waiting until tomorrow to see you, but... I didn't want to be alone."

He started to slide downward, still leaning against the container, letting gravity take hold of his body and drag him to the floor. Curling up and letting his head relax against the hunk of metal and surrounded by wires, Pepper Jack sighed.

"I shouldn't be here," he murmured, more to himself than to this strange, sleeping man he found a measure of solace in. "I might get caught. But... I'm so tired..."

Another yawn. His eyelids grew heavier by the second. He wrapped his wings around himself, in a makeshift, lukewarm cocoon.

"Just... Just this once... The sun will wake me. It always does. Doesn't matter when I sleep or where. Then I'll... I'll leave before anyone catches me..."

He rose with the sun, and the sun rose with him. For they were forever bound to one another. For he was its warmth and light made manifest, and so it would obey his commands without question. Or so everyone liked to say. So the threads people used to spin all those tall tales about him aimed to convey to the world, in those tapestries and carvings on the palace walls.

The container was uncomfortable. All freezing, flat iron and sharp edges. But it was fine. It was better than the bed Celestial Cheese gave him. For there was someone next to him, and that alone made the entire lavish bedroom he was made to call his own worthless.

As exhaustion overtook him, Pepper Jack's thoughts began to blur. Those two men that shared a name and face and nothing more melted together into one. He imagined the Burning Spice in the prison before him rising and picking him up. Resting Pepper Jack's head on his shoulder. Carrying him to bed, taking slow, measured steps so as not to make him stir. Laying him down ever so gently - would this Burning Spice be terrified to use his real strength near him, like his Burning Spice still was, even if he pretended not to be when asked? - and pulling the blanket over him. Taking care to leave the boy on his stomach, not his back, because he cared enough to remember that he always wanted his wings to be free. Letting his hand linger in his hair. Petting it. That big, strong, warm hand, offered by the big, strong man who let himself be soft around him, keeping him company. Comforting him as he drifted away.

This Burning Spice wouldn't do any of that. But Pepper Jack was too tired to snap out of it and stop pretending.

The nightmares stayed away this time, at least.

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

I have more, but Jack's not the only one who's falling asleep lol. I'll write and post the rest later maybe. Probably. If Cuppa and everyone else is willing to put up with that

Also I'd draw something to accompany this but uhhhhhhhh I'm not sure anyone wants that inflicted upon them lol

[triglycercule]

who asked for this. nobody. but unfortunately as a creator i actually have to CREATE for my au 😞😞😞😒😒😒 jk fashion au ink and swap designs ig,,,,,,

ink. ink. ink. she's totally not holding a gun to my head as i type this,,,,, because she CANT break the fourth wall ok she totally doesnt realize that she's forever gonna be stuck living life as a high schooler with no chance of ever graduating or progressing in life,,,,, BECAUSE THERE'S NO ANGST IN JK FASHION AU HAAHAHAH 😁😁😁😁 anyways she's soooo silly :3333 i'm not a connoisseur of anyone that's not the mtt (biased 🙂🙂🙂) but i wanted her to be silly but also a bit freakish,,,, ya!

what do the people think about INK???? featuring everyone in jk fashion au so far 😇😇

dream: "ink is another one of my close friends. she's been there for me when even nightmare couldn't, and i've supported her likewise. sometimes her head is in the clouds, so i send her texts to remind her of things like homework and such. maybe she forgets lunch sometimes, so swap and i give her a share of ours. and when ink wants to talk about anything she's thinking of, whether it's a painter's use of color or the reason we exist, i'm always open to listening. she's an amazing person, really."

nightmare: "ink. ah, that girl is an enigma, truly. somedays she supports me on my path to world domination, and other days she just laughs at me and says as if it were a fact that i would never achieve it! ugh... but despite my slight grievances, she's dream's friend, and i've grown fond of her. quite often, without me even requesting, she gifts me paintings. now, they may seem normal at first, but recently i've discovered a pattern with them. as if ink had peered into the mind of god and depicted it visually, the paintings assist me in handling dream appropriately. i must say, she's skilled as well..."

killer: "see now ink? she's my type of gal. we get along pretty well, hehe! we're on the same wavelength or something, i dunno. not like she can predict what i do, but i wouldn't be surprised if she could, but ink and i just click. we talk about all sorts of silly stuff; similar sense of humor, after all. ink and i can yap about different shows and movies we've watched and stuff, she gives really good insight on the more technical stuff like color psychology and framing, and she once drew me art for one of my big follower milestones on twitter! she's suuuuper cool, haha!"

dust: "okay, just... keep this between me and you, but i think ink has some sort of secret sixth sense? i dunno. nothing against her, she's a fun person. just that, uh... sometimes she just comes up to me when i least expect it and starts asking me about my progress on my writing. which is... confusing. i've only ever told killer and horror about my writing, so i don't know how she knows...?"

horror: "y'know, dust and i have a bit of a bet going on. all jokes and all, but i've got a feeling ink's pulling some sort of elaborate spying prank with how much she knows about us... dust doesn't think so. but i'm betting 20 bucks she does. like, once i was at a vending machine and the stupid thing didn't give me my goddamn candy bar, ugh. i had to stay cool. but then ink just pops out of nowhere, says its okay for me to drop the act and get mad around her, and then does some sort of vending machine trick to get the candy?? yeah, she's definitely a wizard or something. in a nice way, i guess."

NOW SWWAAAAAAPPP she's silly. i included the bit of her getting into trouble because of her good will SOLELY because swap gets bullied a lot in other aus 💀 (askerror, something new, etc,,,,,,) i also read a canon underswap doc??? SWAP IS SO SILLY!!!!! i cant really explain her personality through text i'd need to draw comics for her which uhhhh,,,,, (looks away)

THOUGHTS ON SWAP????

dream: "ah, swap! she's one of my dearest friends, i truly care for her deeply. out of sheer coincidence it seems, that she, ink, and i were chosen to be the star students of the school, but surprisingly it works out well... swap's truly a delight. she's a great motivator, and she's saved me from a few situations that would've ended up terribly had she not been there, hehe."

nightmare: "sometimes the world hates me. ah- well, what i meant was, the path of fate has me set on a predetermined path of struggle! and yet, when even i, the queen of negativity, could not stop my kin from slipping on a ridiculously placed banana peel and almost breaking her neck, swap was her knight in shining armor and caught her. needless to say, just as fate despises my bloodline, fate also has angels sent down from heaven. i do suppose swap is one of those, bless her soul."

killer: "heh, swap?? that girl's a riot! couple years ago i tried convincing her to show me some of those sick moves she learned at kickboxing, or karate, taekwondo, whatever... she broke my wrist, haha! but then i pulled a knife on her and then we both got in trouble. hah, good times, good times. no, i didn't stab her?! in fact, she's very good friends with mr. mew and the grumpen, thank you very much! a friend of my kitties is a friend of mine!"

dust: "she's nice. her type of energy is something you only see is like... a sugar-rushed ink, and killer normally. but anyways, swap's a good help around the school. she's a bit ridiculous every now and then with all her "the magnificent swap" and how she's a bit of a showoff, but whatever. aren't we all? anyways, at least the scavenger hunts she makes during school dances are fun."

horror: "swap is uh... she's something. gotta admit, she's pretty normal compared to some of the people at this school. but man... enthusiasm, much? eh, whatever. i'm not the type to complain when her burritos are to die for. we're partners in cooking class... let's just say, she carries us hard."

anyways jk cross and epic soon. sooner than you think heheheh

[fairymischief]

(I know this doesn't directly relate to radical feminism, I just value all of your opinions and this post has to do with the value of blunt honesty and integrity, and I just wanted your thoughts.)

There's this part in the beginning of Anne of Green Gables that drives me crazy every time I read it: the part where Mrs. Rachel insults Anne's appearance upon meeting. When Anne defends herself with righteous indignation at this outrageous display of rudeness, she's shamed, punished, and told she needs to apologize to this woman who verbally abused her unprovoked, and who is MORE than old enough to know better. Later, Anne does give a dramatic apology. Ugh.

I am so glad that my mother raised me with the understanding that no one is above me; not because of status, age, wealth, or anything else, and I don't need to bow my head in deference to anyone. I grew up with the attitude that respect is earned and ought to be reciprocated, and was perfectly respectful to those who respected me, and had restraint with those who didn't. She would have been on my side 100% in this situation, and said to Mrs. Rachel, "You're a grown woman, and you don't know better than to behave this way - bullying a child?"

The whole point of respecting elders is the assumption that with age comes maturity and wisdom. When it doesn't, and an elderly person behaves no better than an ill-mannered child, it's ludicrous to demand an elevated level of respect.

This may not count for much because I'm not a parent, but I've always thought that while children should be taught to put themselves in another's place (empathy), I seriously question whether they should be made to apologize for things they aren't sorry for. I think that rattling off insincere apologies is a way to smooth over disputes, but ultimately it's encouraging dishonesty. If they say, "This is what I think, and I'm not sorry about it," they may be occasionally unpopular (as any bluntly honest person is) - but I think they'll have a lot more integrity.

We value that sort of individualistic, unyielding honesty in adults; so why try to train it out of a child?

Thoughts?

[numberonetacostan]

okay im writing this at 2am while I bet on losing dogs is playing not a great mix.

OKAY here we go sensitive topics(?) consisting of self-harm

tacopad and SOME tacomic I guess

Sometimes i wonder how Mepad or Microphone would react to Taco self-harming, I like to think they immediately comfort her, no matter how many times she says she doesn’t need it, or doesn’t want it. They would keep sharp objects away, but since Taco can hide things in her shell, blades on those sharpeners aren’t safe nor are pocket knifes. The two would try EVERYTHING to keep her away from blades, but would end up with new scars on her wrists/thighs.

Taco doesn’t know why she doesn’t this, she doesn’t like it, yet she continues. She hides her arms with hoodies and long sleeved shirts. Summer is a hellhole for her, either having to wear arm warmers, or not going out her room. No one has seen her scars, not even Microphone and Mepad. Though they have caught her, everytime they try to bandage the wounds, she hides her wrists away.

ok im actually so sorry if this is very different from what i usually put here, and im sorry again if this topic makes you uncomfortable.

-nori

Hiya, Nori!!!!!^^ Welcome back, and thank you for sending in a hc!!!!! :] no worries about it being too dark, I love angst!!!! The only type of ask I won't take are sexually explicit ones. I will be putting a trigger warning and a cut, just in case others might be sensitive to it. I do hope you're feeling okay, though <3 I know I'm an internet stranger so feel free to ignore this, but I'm always willing to lend a listening ear for all my ii buddies on here!!! <3 <3 <3

TW: discussion of self-harm!!

I can, unfortunately for her, see Taco self-harming. She has trouble handling and expressing her feelings, a maladaptive coping mechanism such as that is a definite possibility for her, especially one she could pick up living alone in the woods such as self-harm. Especially especially since we get a glimpse into her self-image during Taco's Tirade!! Granted, she is at her rock bottom during the song, but we see throughout season 2 that she does feel bad about her actions!!!! She found herself to be monstrous long before the song, yeah? aaaaaa sorry your ask was about Mic and Mepad finding out!!!! I'll get right on with that!!!

So, I think Mepad would be a lot better about finding Taco self-harming because of his calm demeanor, and his teleportation ability, but mostly his demeanor. Him remaining quiet and soft and calm about it would make Taco herself a lot less reactive, since her feelings wouldn't be amplified by a loudly emotional reaction from him. Depending on how accurate or selective he can be with his teleporting, he could get whatever item Taco is using to harm herself away from her quickly and easily. Despite his understated reaction, of course, he is worried sick. He would not leave her side for a single second for weeks. I mean, I picture them sticking together anyways, but he is extra alert!!! I think he and Taco would do a lot of talking, and he would be very keen on trying to find her other coping mechanisms that aren't harmful. And and, he'd be very discreet about it. He would not tell a single other soul if Taco told him not to, unless he found he couldn't properly handle the situation alone.

However, much to my despair (i was actually crying about this before i saw your ask, funnily enough), Mepad is dead!!!!! So he can not be here to expertly Therapad his way through this. So we have the next best person to take care of Taco when she's in severe distress, Mic!! Who, as we have seen (ex: after lb and testy disappear in s2 ep12) Mic does not seem to do too well in surprising, stressful, and/or scary circumstances!!! Not that Mic wouldn't be a great help to Taco, no no, she would do her best and be incredibly supportive, but she would react more outwardly and, in true Mic fashion, loudly, to seeing Taco self-harming. The classic "What are you doing?!?!!??!!!!!!!" Sort of thing, yeah? I can see her being a lot more proactive in trying to keep all sharp objects away from Taco, since unlike Mepad, Mic has to sleep and thus can't keep her eyes on Taco 24/7.

I can see Taco potentially using self-harm as a form of punishment for herself while she's trying to change. Snapped at someone? She deserves to be hurt. Lied instinctively? She'll train it out of herself by force. Honestly this is pretty aligned with my hc of Taco initially trying way too hard to change immediately post-canon and it taking a huge toll on her mentally.

Ough and her hiding her scars even from Mic and Mepad and keeping them hidden despite all the misery it causes her am I seeing an ALLEGORY right there??? I think I am with her keeping all her feelings down despite how much worse it makes her feel. She's trying to heal and get better, but old habits are hard to break, yeah? Sometimes they come back with a vengeance.

[naamahdarling]

Augh

[thoughtfulfangirling]

The fire looked at home in her eyes, and it was true that for the rest of Yael’s life, Angela would never see it die out. Her family’s ranch was always burning in her eyes, and because it never left her vision, she never saw the flowers that grew later.

AHHH! I remember reading this! I'm so excited to read it again. Talk about evocative, powerful language! And really, one does not need to know a thing about Overwatch for this. God just go back up right now and read it if you haven't already.

Angela understood. In the way that it felt easy to let go of the sound her name had made on her parents’ lips, she imagined it must be so simple to slip into another name entirely. There was the name of who you were before, and you were after.

God, as a master of rambling, to evoke such a profound sense of experiences in so few words without losing any of the potency of that story... god it's so good!

Yael had somehow seemed to know this, and sat next to her on the bus up to the mountain, smiling as she looped a bunch of flowers she’d picked from the field, one over and around the other, until she’s made a crown, and plopped it onto Angela’s head with a grin.

OMG The call back to the flowers! She can pick them and she can mold them, and maybe perhaps, the fire hasn't drowned them out yet, but she's not admiring their beauty here. She's keeping her hands busy. She's picked them, robbed them of life. Not, I think, any sort of moral commentary on picking flowers here. Just... on their own it's not enough, but they haven't slipped entirely from her fingers yet, but they will. But perhaps it's more telling that she doesn't keep them for herself. She crowns Angela, like a prescient nod to the fact that Angela will always tend the flowers and keep the fire at bay. Light without burning up.

Angela sat, looking at her feet, wondering where they would go, looking at Yael’s hand, wondering where it would lead her, looking at the edge of the fire, envying its ability to burn. She did not burn. She had seen enough of burning, and would not embrace it.

Hehehe Angela will not burn. But god the way this is phrased just does it for me. 'wondering where it would lead her, looking at the edge of the fire' YAEL WOULD LEAD YOU TO FIRE BUT YOU WON'T KNOW HOW TO BURN

Fire warps and twists even the strongest metal sometimes, it seems. ... Yael looked at her for the first time, their bright blue eyes siblings but never twins, two halves of the same whole. ... Fire warps and twists even the strongest metal sometimes, it seems. ... Yael looked at her for the first time, their bright blue eyes siblings but never twins, two halves of the same whole. ... They sat, watching the fire crackle and pop and burn, sending bits of light out into the darkness, even knowing they would likely be extinguished, the fire still had to try. ... Everything existing had its opposite, her mother had told her, and when Angela was a woman not only by tradition, but by experience, she would come to understand that opposites were not only black and white, but the blue of a healing rain and the orange of a blazing fire.

Immaculate!

Set Fire to the Rain

@rhiorhino‘s prompt was “Tell me literally everything about Yael so here is the beginning of their lives intertwining. I hope you like it. 

Mercy’s mother had told her, that everything existing had its opposite. That light could not exist without the shadow, that the land was made real by the sea, that good could only persevere if there was the wall of evil to climb, and this was why so many things we would rather not have were present in this world.  That all these things were present in all humanity, as well.

Like many things her mother had said to her, it had not quite clicked into place until she was much older.

She had been thirteen, and did not understand these things, staring into a fire as other children who had lost just as much as she had warbled Hebrew songs off key. She looked down at the nametag on her chest, bearing a simple “Angela” and the small flags of the languages she spoke.

She’d stopped trying to correct the pronunciation of her name. It was mostly English spoken here, and she imagined it would be the same as she went into the international medical community. It didn’t matter anyway.

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