#things with my supervisor have been meh

[bucketofchum]

Been dealing with some really bad self esteem shit lately...

[irontragedyreview]

People who are saying "you can't criticize Horikoshi, it's his story and he can do whatever he wants", etc. Yeah, it's his story but he's made it public so I can do whatever I want and if I want to be a bitch and I call hi, mediocre I’ll do it. Like I love Naruto with all my heart and I have defended Kishimoto over certain criticisms in relation to female characters, etc. I have also criticized him for the absolute shit that Boruto is, even considering that as a manga Boruto isn’t 100% his work considering that at the beginning he was involved in the movie but on the manga he was only a supervisor. What I'm trying to get It’s that if you believe that just because a mangaka creates a story it should be free from criticism then you aren’t ready to get involved with any type of media or sincerely the public believes that consuming a movie, book, etc. means being a passive subject without critical thinking.  

That being said, Horikoshi largely deserves as much criticism as he can get because these chapters were truly a shit show since this last arc began. Let's just start listing first, AFO vs Endeavor and every hero in existence was too long and repeated for a large number of chapters the formula "villain takes the advantage, heroes take the advantage, the villain takes the advantage again and finally wins and move on to something else", all of this perhaps understandable to give some prominence to characters who were forgotten for entire arcs.

Shouto and his arc plus his relationship with Dabi, Shouto had a very interesting arc and incredibly much material to exploit but his arc and his relationship with Dabi never managed to take off because he was so tied to Endeavor that the interactions between them felt empty. 

Ochako and Toga were honestly the only thing that was worth it, you could see the commitment to giving them both a great moment and the way she wanted to approach Toga and truly have a conversation. The only thing I can criticize about their ending is that obviously there is no completely satisfactory closure in giving Toga an answer to what happens next, apart from Ochako's offer of understanding, there is no easy way out of what the other heroes will do, therefore which I can’t criticize her for not giving an answer to a complicated situation in this way. 

Also Horikoshi added things to his story that in the end he didn’t finish closing or that surely even if he touched them again it would no longer make sense, what happened to Spinner? What happened to everything about heteromorphic discrimination? I have to believe that everything is fixed by the good heart of Shoji telling Spinner that his way of doing things only makes the "achievements" of equality go backwards by giving them a bad image. In other words, we know that quirk society is discriminatory, especially in less urbanized towns, that those heteromorphs who reach places of power are the least and no real change has been achieved, but of course the victims of discrimination have to keep quiet and be good. So, maybe in the future they will no longer be discriminated. I'm going to be fair here, touching on issues like discrimination is complex, but putting an idea like this in the manga and then going for a simplistic or rather completely ignored resolution, because while a person may not share Spinner's actions, it’s understandable why he does it and simply saying that you have to be better because then people will see that you are good and not discriminate against you is stupid, Horikoshi covered a topic that he honestly didn’t know how to deal with or wasn’t interested in doing so. 

Kurogiri/Shirakumo being just a plot device for Aizawa and being resolved in 5 panels, I'm going to be understanding and say that this arc had the least to explore, but in the end it was meh. Tbh I'm not going to criticize this because it is so empty of content that it is no longer worth criticizing it. 

About Tomura and Izuku, the truth is what can I say the most that I haven't said in previous posts? from all the fights or confrontations it’s the most ignored, neglected and rushed of all, we don't know anything about them other than loose panels for a whole year, they barely interact and now Tomura dies, Izuku is "well, I honestly don't give a damn and I want you dead", if no one who has followed these two characters realizes the damage that this chapter has done to their conclusions then I'm not going to explain it. If Horikoshi felt incapable or was tired of his story he could have ended it with something else, however perhaps this was always the plan, we are talking about a guy who said that the second movie was the end of his manga,that is Midoriya without quirk giving it to his childhood bully. It's obvious that he doesn't care about Izuku as a character and I think he did care about Tomura but he didn't know what to do with him, which is why we have this ending.

Final note for any comments I may surely receive for calling bk a childhood bully. Don't waste your time replying, commenting or trying to argue, Horikoshi took it upon himself to make bk a gary stu who never faces real consequences for his actions (dying is not a sign of karma) and his abuse is never treated seriously by the author, because his victim never reflects on himself, which is ironic considering how many BK fans recognize that Midoriya has self-esteem problems, contempt, and poor self-care but do not recognize BK's role in this or minimize it.

[beauty-and-passion]

Eurovision 2024: broken promises and one last hope

Hello.

I know this post took a bit longer than usual, but I needed some time to collect my thoughts about this year’s Eurovision.

Yes, I watched it. Why? Because it wouldn’t have been fair to the artists, who took part in this year’s competition. It’s not because of them that the show was so polarized, so they didn’t deserve to be punished for that.

Also, I needed to see how far the EBU would go. I needed to see and I needed to remember. And everyone needs to remember too. Remember this year and remember what happened, when the EBU followed its policy so strictly, it ended up making the most tense show I’ve ever watched.

I will share my thoughts and I will try my best to do it effectively. It won’t be a short post and I apologize, but I tried my best.

_________________________________

Sweden: was it worth it?

We all had big expectations for this year’s show. There was Petra Mede, everyone’s favorite host. And Sweden is well known for doing great shows. This year should've been great.

 The first semifinal starts and we're bombarded by greatest hits of the past. Cool for five minutes, boring after one hour.

I’m disappointed: I expected something better from Sweden, not them recycling something already done in the past. But that’s what they did by sending Loreen back to win again, so I suppose it’s fitting.

Okay, so we have Johnny Logan, Ireland’s three-time winner. Is he singing one of his songs? No, he’s singing Tattoo.

Weird choice. Why call Ireland’s three-time winner to perform a Swedish song? Why call a representative of the nation who won as many times as you and make him sing one of your songs and not one of his?

If I were to think badly, I would think this was Sweden's subtle way to impose its supremacy on Ireland. A sort of: "You're not the best anymore, I reached you and I will surpass you. You will succumb to me". But Sweden would never do something like that, wouldn’t it?

Then we have the second semifinal. And we have a song, which can be resumed as follows: “We know we stole Finland’s victory last year, but instead of admitting there is a problem with the voting system (and the entire system for that matter), we’d much rather prefer to whine, because people have been sooooo mean with us. And yes, we will keep sending the same stuff every time, because it makes us win. At the end of the day, all we want is to keep winning, so shut up and love us.”

I don’t know you, but the line between being self-aware of your flaws and openly admitting all you want is to win (all while insulting the country that almost won last year, by saying that their show would’ve been so stupid ah ah, while ours is so cool, see how cool we are?) is very thin. And even the greatest hosting country of all time can succumb to its own hubris once in a while.

Then we reach the final. Okay, the semifinals' shows were meh and left me with a bitter aftertaste, but hey, that’s the final! It must be awesome!

After two hours, I was looking at the clock, waiting for the entire thing to be over.

Did we really need a thirst song about Martin Österdahl, the most hated EBU Executive Supervisor? Was it really necessary to sexualize this man? Is it because he’s Swedish? Is it because Sweden needs to kiss the ESC’s ass even more? Or is it because the ESC really really wants to make this guy more popular, considering people hate him?

After hinting at them in every possible way for the entire week, in the end we got AI-generated ABBA. Well, shoutout to the real ABBA for not participating in this: last year they said they would’ve not taken part and they didn't. Respect.

Alcazar were the biggest surprise of the entire week, because they are a piece of my childhood and Crying at the Discoteque is still a huge bop. But heaven forbid we having fun for more than five minutes, so they were sent away immediately.

At the end of the day, my question is: was it worth it, Sweden? Was it worth winning seven times, only to celebrate with the most boring show ever?

I cannot believe I’m saying this, but I missed Portugal’s show. Yes, the show I called “torture”, because they kept spamming the entire country for days.

You know what? I’d rather watch a country constantly spam its beauties and its culture, than another greatest hit compilation. By god, you’re hosting Eurovision. That's your chance to display your country on the greatest window Europe has to offer. And you use that chance, to repeat over and over “Eurovision good” and talk about it only.

I know Eurovision is good and cool and I love the reminder... but please, give us something more, Sweden. Something you. Listening to a country say: “We don’t have anything else to offer besides Eurovision” does not make me laugh. It makes me sad. It's not that you don't have anything else to offer, Sweden: it's that you don't want to show what else you have to offer.

You have gorgeous natural places (Höga Kusten and Gotland just to name two). You have the second-longest bridge in Europe and it's fucking impressive. Your capital is full of wonderful islands - and I found out there are tours with buses that go both on the ground and in the water. How fucking cool is that?!

Do we want to talk about culture? Your coffee breaks are literally part of your lifestyle and even have a specific name. You have that great concept of lagom which a lot of people should learn too. You are full of beautiful art and funny foods - heck, there is even a Disgusting Food Museum in Malmö! And I didn't find out thanks to Eurovision, but thanks to fucking Tripadvisor.

It's just sad, you know? Don't underestimate yourself so much, Sweden. You have a ton to offer besides this show.

_________________________________

 The Netherlands: victim of paradoxes

Europapa was one of fan’s favorite songs and of course it was: a catchy tune, funny singer, fun and happiness for a song that was both a celebration of Europe and a touching love letter from Joost to his parents.

Of course it got people’s hearts. We all love the story of a character who comes up with a dream and wants to fulfill it. And if we can, we want to make that dream come true.

So just imagine how devastating it was, to find out Joost has been disqualified. I was minding my own business when I found out and I was shocked, so I can’t even imagine how bad his hardcore fans felt.

The first question was, of course, why. What happened? What could’ve done a man who has always wanted to attend Eurovision, to get disqualified? Not warned, not penalized. Disqualified. What did he ever do, to put in jeopardy his lifelong dream like that?

I don't know if we’ll ever find out the whole truth. All we know is that Joost asked a woman to stop filming him, she refused and kept following him, so he made a “threatening gesture” towards the camera, while not touching her.

Which gesture? No idea. Maybe he showed his middle finger, maybe he tried to lower the camera, maybe he said “fuck you and stop filming me”, maybe he tried to hit the camera. I don’t know. But in this case, I would really like to know - and not just what he did, but how the whole thing went.

If this year taught us something, is the importance of context. If Joost Klein tried to punch the camera is one thing and he should be condemned for that. But if Joost Klein tried to punch the camera after being filmed without his permission, because a woman was harassing him and following him, thus breaking the agreement that wanted him to not be filmed after stage… well, that's another thing.

Sure, he shouldn’t have reacted this way. But you can understand by yourself that snapping at someone out of the blue is one thing and snapping because you’re fed up with harassment is another thing.

Did Joost deserve some punishment? Sure. But did the person filming him without consent deserve punishment too? Of course. If you have to apply punishments, you have to do it equally, not with a double standard. So if he was disqualified, that woman should've been removed from her position too. But as far as I know, she wasn't.

Also, why didn't the EBU tell exactly what happened right from the start? Why refer to it as “an incident” and give only vague explanations? Why not mention Joost's disqualification during the Grand Final? Why did people have to find out through social media and the Grand Final happened as if nothing?

That's weird, that's not the behavior of someone who has nothing to hide. What’s the matter, EBU? Why this weird lack of communication? And why not show the footage of the incident and make everything clear? Now you’re respecting Joost’s right to not be filmed? A bit too late for that, isn’t it?

So yes, in a paradoxical turn of events, Joost Klein got his dream denied by the same show he wanted to be part of. The guy with the most European song ever, the one who stuck to the ESC motto “united by music”, the one who celebrated Europe, the one whose childhood dream was to be part of this European show, got disqualified by the same European show.

What can I say? I just hope karma will do its job for him. If he's innocent, he will get good things. If he's in the wrong, he will get his punishment.

In the meantime, you can still support him, stream his songs and check his albums. Here on YouTube you will find basically all of them, since it doesn’t seem he has a YouTube channel (yet).

And if his fans still find everything absurd and unjustifiable, don't worry: if Eurovision 2023 (and all previous ones) taught us something, is that you don’t have to be the winner, to steal people’s hearts. Sometimes, you just need one performance.

And this one stole everyone's heart.

Also, since apparently paradoxes were not enough, it seems like European flags were banned for being political? European flags during a European show in a European country in the European continent.

Uh?!

EBU, one question: on which continent do you think you’re in? Spoiler: it’s not America.

_________________________________

EBU’s biggest mistake

Let's talk a bit about the current global situation, shall we? No, you can't escape from it.

So, unless you lived under a rock until now, you know that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict has been going on for a long time and that recently it intensified again because of the new Gaza conflict. Israel pretends to not have committed war crimes, the rest of the world tells them to stop committing them, there are protests everywhere and people are ready to jump at each other’s throats to defend one country or the other.

Now, you’re the EBU. You say your show isn’t political. And that’s true: Eurovision isn’t political. Eurovision is a musical competition. It has nothing to do with politics.

But Eurovision takes place on planet Earth. And, as said, the situation on planet Earth is a bit tense right now. So you already know that, if you stick one single finger in this situation, you will get BIG reactions from the public.

So, what do you do, when Israel asks you to participate?

a) You tell Israel, very politely and very professionally, that you appreciate their application, but cannot accept them this year, because the situation is what it is and letting them in would bring chaos and potential dangers into a contest whose main foundation is being safe and non-political.

b) You let Israel in and let Palestine participate too, at least in spirit through people’s voices and decisions to mention it. This way, no one can say you’re taking sides, since you’re letting both sides participate.

c) You let Israel in and censor everything and everyone else, so not only you bring chaos inside your non-political contest, but make it even more political than ever and end up taking sides too.

Guess what EBU chose.

In order to stick to their non-political policy, EBU put blinders on and ignored the rest of the world. In order to let one country in because "Eurovision is non-political, so everyone is allowed to participate", they brought politics into their non-political show.

And no, it's not unexpected: it was obvious that, by letting Israel in, politics would've entered the competition too. This country and politics are bound tightly now, because of the current situation: of course if you let one in, the other will enter too.

And with politics, all the chaos of the current situation found its way in too. And that means EBU literally put in danger:

25 artists and their teams coming from all over Europe

the same Israeli gal and her team

all the tourists coming from all over the world to attend Eurovision

Swedish people who were living their normal lives and were suddenly surrounded by protests and chaos

the protesters who could've been involved in potential clashes

members of the police who also could've been involved in potential clashes

“But hey”, you might say, “nothing bad happened, in the end! You’re being too negative!”

Sure, thankfully nothing bad happened. But the risk was there, it was huge and it's not that "it would've been here anyway": the risk could've been completely avoided, by applying just a bit more human reasoning.

But even after politics found its way into the show, even after that, EBU could've saved the whole thing. If only one human being with a functioning brain said something like: "Okay, politics is in, even if we didn't want to. Now all we can do is let the other side of the conflict speak too, while we stay neutral".

But no, oh no. Mentioning Palestine and ceasefire means politics and our show isn't political. So let's ignore the fact that our decision to follow the policy verbatim led to politics being inside the show and let's keep applying the rules as if nothing: no one should mention politics, so Eric Saade cannot perform with the kefiah, Bambie Thug should remove their messages about ceasefire, Iolanda cannot keep her nails with Palestine's colors (seriously?!) and people's booing should be drowned with anti-booing technology.

You know, it's incredibly fascinating how EBU's stubborn decision to strictly follow the rules not only allowed politics inside the show, but led to the EBU itself taking a political stand, all while censoring every other opposition. EBU's rigid, mechanical application of the policy led to the EBU contradicting the same policy it was oh-so-religiously following. By making sure the show wasn't political, EBU applied censorship and not only made it even more political, but politically oriented towards one side of the conflict.

I don't know who the EBU members are and if they're human beings with functioning brains or just AI-generated bots, but please: stop following the rules like mindless robots and start using human reasoning in your decision-making process. And use common sense too, because if an idiot like me could foresee the consequences, you should've been able to foresee them too.

_________________________________

Israel: bullying cannot buy you victory

Now, we have Israel in. And the Israeli gal and her team perfectly know that their sole presence will lead to controversy and political stands.

So, if you were in their place, what would have you done?

kept a low profile during the entire competition;

showed at least an ounce of regret for unintentionally putting everyone in danger;

bullied everyone and tried to find any possible chance to beef with the other artists;

Guess what the Israeli team chose.

During the entire competition, these people kept harassing other artists, filming them without consent, calling them names, misgendering them. They kept this arrogant behavior, as if they owned the place and all other countries were just invited to their show.

And if there’s something I hate more than arrogance, is arrogance with a side dish of bullying.

So, to all the people whining because “Martina Satti yawned while Eden was speaking and Joost hid his face”: if that’s bullying, for you, you have a great life and I envy you. I wish I was bullied like that in school. But my bullying was more like… well, calling me names, harassing me and listening/spying what I was doing without my consent.

But apparently harassing the competitors wasn’t enough, so Israel decided to harass the viewers too, by begging for votes. Yes, they begged for votes. Yes, they spammed ads all over YouTube. Yes, I got one too and it was on a Eurovision-unrelated video and it made my blood boil. Yes, they were this desperate. And yes, that’s pathetic.

Also: is this legal? Is this allowed? EBU, are we sure this is part of the rules you follow so strictly? And please, tell me: is harassment also part of those same rules?

But do not worry: in the end, karma found its way. And despite the arrogance, the harassment, the tons of money spent to beg people, none of these means was enough to grant Israel the victory they oh-so-desperately wanted.

On the contrary: in a wonderfully ironic twist, the winner was one of the artists they kept misgendering and harassing. Mmmh, delicious irony, my favorite.

So thank you Israel for wasting money all over YouTube, I hope they were a lot. Thank you to all the people who made a political vote, you really got the spirit of the show, I hope you will never watch it again. Thank you Israeli team for harassing everyone and making an already tense competition even more tense. And, most importantly, thank you EBU for bringing politics in a non-political show: great fucking job, I hope someone will get fired.

And now, let's finally talk about music. Israel's song was nothing special, just the umpteenth bland song I've listened to 200 times already. And we all know it didn't get 300+ votes because everyone was in love with it. People's taste is not so bland and boring. And the final points proved it.

(On a side note, if I were Eden, I would be offended by these votes. At least the people who voted for Loreen last year didn't do it because of Sweden, but because of her talent. This year, I doubt that the people who voted for Eden gave a shit about her talent at all)

_________________________________

France: I need to make some apologies

Listen, you have to understand: we Italians know that French singers are good. We laugh, we say they’re “so French” and they keep Frenching and everything, but we know they rarely disappoint.

The problem is that France is good at the same things we’re good too. We’re both good at soccer, we’re good with food, wine, fashion. And we’re both good at singing.

So, France, remember: we might make fun of you but my god, your artists are amazing. When Slimane sang that part acapella two meters away from his microphone, I literally got shivers. He is a fucking great singer, his voice is incredible and he deserved more than 7 points.

I know French Frenching, but we should give credit when necessary:

_________________________________

Estonia, Spain and basically everyone else: two words and more apologies

Estonia 20th and Spain 22nd? Super robbed. The ignominy. The audacity. They served us beautiful Estonian language and a Spanish gal with a soft voice and that's how they got rewarded? They deserve more and better and people are stupid.

Also, I don’t know what kind of beef Greeks have with Marina, but she was good and doesn’t deserve all of this hate. Also because most of the complaints I've heard about make no sense, so… uh?!

Germany: fucking finally, people gave you votes. Thank you for persevering, your song was truly nice and I liked it too.

Armenia: yes, top 10! For great, lively, wonderful Balkan rhythm! You deserve it and your country deserves love and appreciation.

Italy: I’m okay with this result. Angelina’s performance was better, compared to the one in the semi-finals (also, better costume too, the other was too revealing and too much in general). 7th place is fine.

Ireland: I know that’s not a song for everyone and okay, fine, maybe it’s nothing special either… but my god, have you seen the performance they put on? A-ma-zing. It was interesting, captivating and full of details. And the narrative is perfect too: you can see how Bambie slowly befriends the demon and ends up killing it. It was truly enjoyable to watch. So I’m glad it got 6th place, they deserve an even higher position.

Ukraine: please keep slaying, your artists are always so great and they keep proving it every goddamn time. Also, that moment when Ukraine surpassed Israel was delicious: money truly cannot buy you love and support.

The UK: seriously, why are you whining about people not giving you points? The song was okay, but nothing truly special. Still, you got 18th place! What should Norway say, instead? Poor Norway, it has all my sympathy, the song wasn't this bad.

And now, to you all: you know what to do. Follow your favorites, stream their songs, shower them with love. Eurovision is over, but these artists are not disappearing. They are still out there, making beautiful music. Go check on them.

_________________________________

Croatia: “the audience will come to my concert, not the jury”

Baby Lasagna was a blessing and as Italian, I want to properly apologize for giving it 16 points total only. You deserved 24, shame on us for being stupid morons.

Croatia gave us a beautiful song, from a beautiful artist with a great message and upbeat sounds. And I’m not the only one who thinks this, because the rest of the public agrees with me. Marko gave us pure joy and entertainment in an evening that was mostly sadness, tension and boredom.

And yes, it’s sad he didn’t win… but he knew it, before Switzerland’s points have been announced. Look at his face, during the final voting: as soon as Petra said Switzerland only needed 182 points, he realized he was going to lose. You can see him understanding and accepting it. He knew Switzerland would get these points. I knew. Everybody knew.

So no, this wasn’t like last year: last year, it was a one-on-one game between Finland and Sweden and a tug-of-war between public and jury. This year, we had a lot of favorites. Marko was the favorite, but if Joost wasn’t disqualified, maybe the points would’ve been even more distributed.

But you know what? Marko actually got the best possible result you can get in Eurovision. People adore you, you become a legend and your country doesn’t have to deal with EBU’s bullshit. You get the best of both worlds and it doesn’t cost you a cent.

Also, consider that Marko accepted his 2nd place graciously and maturely, went back home and was welcomed by basically the whole Zagreb (Let3 were there too! Kings supporting a king, very fitting). And in an interview, he said something like “I don’t care about the jury points, because the jury doesn’t come to my concerts”. Which proves he is:

a mood

a king

the truth oracle

everyone’s spirit animal

the winner of the people

the coolest guy ever

So, Croatia: I understand your disappointment, the jury system REALLY needs to change. And no, you won't host Eurovision next year. But consider that you're everyone's favorite country now. And you won't have to deal with whatever shit will happen in 2025! So sit back, relax, may your tourism thrive and your quality of life be high.

And if all of you people really enjoyed Baby Lasagna, please consider he has a YouTube channel and there are two other songs, besides Rim Tim Tagi Dim. One criticizes social media and the influencer system, while the other is a piece of great life advice from the title: “Don't hate yourself, but don't love yourself too much”. Thank you, king, for being so real.

And in case you’re wondering, yes, they’re both huge bops.

Do your magic, people: subscribe to his channel, stream his songs, watch his videos, shower him with love and, most importantly, meow back.

_________________________________

Switzerland: a contest that can live up to its promise

In the end Switzerland won. And it’s a good victory, you know? You might not like the song, but consider that Nemo sang pop, rap and opera, all while jumping on that rotating platform-thingy and running all over the stage. And they even bent back, while keeping a high note and rotating. I can’t even keep a high note by standing still, let alone by doing all the stuff they did.

Also, this is the first victory for a non-binary person, so great for them. And basically no one knew Nemo before Eurovision, so the show came back to its roots, by giving fame to an unknown artist.

Last but not least, in an ironic turn of events, this victory is the least political thing that happened on that stage. In the most polarized, political show ever, the winner is the quintessential neutral country. Almost poetic, in a way.

And this victory is also a huge slap in the face for the EBU: in the end, it wasn't its rigid adherence to the policy that made the show non-political, it was the jury’s vote. How the tables have turned.

But there is another reason why this victory is good after all and it’s because it’s a hopeful one. The winner isn’t famous, they didn’t harass anyone, they didn’t use money to win, they brought nothing besides their identity, a kind heart and a flag they had to sneak in because of the weird “flag rule” EBU pulled out.

And I would like to remind you that, during their victory speech, Nemo said this:

"I hope this contest can live up to its promise and continue to stand for peace and dignity for every person in this world".

I think it’s a speech that tells everything about this year’s show. This year, the contest didn’t live up to its promise: it put people in unnecessary danger, it brought tension, it made it political. EBU’s strictness led to a lot of consequences, the exact ones it tried so desperately to avoid.

As a result, no one enjoyed their time. I didn't enjoy my time. When Sunday came, I was relieved that the week was finally over and I was able to leave Eurovision behind. I didn't feel an ounce of the usual post-Eurovision nostalgia. I was just glad it was over.

And it's sad and unfair, because Eurovision isn't this. Eurovision is a perfect little window of peace and unity, away from the chaos of the world. For a few hours, three evenings a year, we can leave the real problems behind and focus on silly ones, like which country should win, which should be forever ashamed and which artist will become a legend.

This year, it wasn't like that. This year politics found its way in and wrecked everything. What was supposed to be a silly, funny, lighthearted show became so heavily politically charged, it broke under the weight.

And now that I think about it, Nemo breaking the trophy is the perfect metaphorical representation of this year's competition.

Just like that trophy, Eurovision is something frail and beautiful and mishandling can break it. And oh boy, the EBU truly mishandled it. Even if it was an accident, even if it wasn't done on purpose, the trophy is still broken. The show is broken.

But when asked about their broken trophy, Nemo didn't mourn it: Nemo gave words of hope. Maybe the broken trophy can be repaired. And maybe Eurovision can be repaired too.

How? Well, maybe by starting to learn when and how to apply rules. By using common sense and sensibility. And by checking the world outside too. If we want Eurovision to keep being that small window separated from real world problems, we can't just ignore them: we need to check them and react accordingly.

And if we have to break a rule to guarantee peace and safety, then so be it. One broken rule is not as important as safety and unity.

After all, what makes Eurovision isn't a set of rules: it's the artists, with their talents, their messages, their hopes, their voices, their dreams. They are Eurovision. They are the pull that draws everyone in. They are the reason why people are "united by music". Not because a rule orders them to, not because of the EBU: because of these artists.

Maybe the EBU can start from that. Maybe it can start by looking at the human aspect. Maybe it can start by going out and looking around. And maybe it can learn to take more care of the artists who are the foundation of the show.

And maybe, maybe, they will be able to repair Eurovision too.

See you, hopefully, next year.

[soullikethesea]

Negative

Currently I feel a bit ashamed and disabled. I'm definitely in a burnout-type of state. Actively tired/brain foggy, feeling weird and having body aches.

Finally someone came to give the window a temporary update so that it can be opened. I don't feel happy about this??? It just feels foreign and scary. And the whole process has been so so triggering.

I got apologies three times this week, from the people involved.

And somehow that just makes it hurt more. I fucking predicted this situation and I tried everything in my power to get it fixed and it still took more than 6 months. It reminds me so much of being with my father.

He never apologized to me, of course. Or, well, one time when he was two hours late to come get me and I broke my collar bone. He still says that it was his fault. And yet his guilt and apologies do not make me feel better either. I may be broken.

The landlord stuff just makes me want to cry. It also reminds me of when I got bullied in school and I felt increasingly broken. I am missing a key-component of being human: the ability to protect myself, to show my teeth. Sometimes it feels like I don't have claws, I don't have teeth like other people do.

So even today, I befriended the handyman that neglected me. It's survival 101, isn't it? Befriend your enemy, make them care about you. If you cannot fight, befriend.

Fuck that shit. Fuck the migraine I got, fuck the changes I seem to take so hard, like the new supervisor at work. And even the window now being openable feels so Wrong. I may be autistic after all, or just traumatized, or just weird. Who even knows at this point... I wish I could talk to T, but I also don't, because I have no energy left to explain myself and guide other people towards being helpful.

I also had a low-key job interview thing going, where they forgot to call me - TWICE. I literally got stood up twice. And yes, they apologized as well. It just... it feels bad. I don't know if I'm responding in the right ways so that there is less of a chance of it happening again.

My colleague also left a ton of work to me, without asking me if I'd be OK with it. It's probably not on purpose, but that's another meh thing.

Well, I'll be fine. It seems like all of this is this level of overwhelming just because I did too many things last weekend! And that's another thing I feel pissed about. I wish I could be like a normal person and I could do things without becoming *this* exhausted. I keep comparing myself to some autistic friends I have and they are able to do so much more and it feels a little unfair sometimes. That's what makes me feel so disabled. I hate that I'm stuck within myself. I'll make the most of it, but I can't escape needing to accommodate myself and skipping out on a lot of normal/fun experiences.

Quite a few people have been asking me why I'm not doing a PhD and well, there it is. I'd need so many accommodations that it really isn't realistic. I'm not cut-out for that workload.

So here I am, listening to ASMR for some hours lying under a blanket on my carpet. Lucky that I can do something like that. Worrying a bit about how I'm going to cope without exercizing, since I found out that I injured myself last week. Ironically, I injured myself while doing PT exercises..!

When I forced myself to go into work again last night, it was like a switch flipped and I was completely fine. I liked how it felt, that I could be functional in that moment, but it does also sound a bit like dissociation...

[libra-stellium]

Tracking my Mars transits!

Notes are from Planets in Transit by Robert Hand.

Mars square Jupiter (Mar 31 - Apr 7)

Time of very successful and energetic activity

Low key disappointed by this bc I thought I would get a lot more done but that saturn trine mars transit had me deadddd. I still ended up doing more than usual like going to happy hour!

Keep close track of what you are doing

Real! bc why did my supervisor call me on the phone to ask me what I was working on lmao makes sense bc my jupiter is in my 10H.

You may be infected with an unjustified optimism that anything you do today "will turn to gold" but it will happen through intelligent planning and foresight

The day I went to happy hour (4/5) I told my friend I was good for 4pm bc I could just clock out when I got there bc i had no assignments and tell me why I'm getting ready and I get an email at 2pm like can you edit this brief? omgggg and I texted my friend "I've done more in less time it's whatever" like girl as if this isn't serious work and it went great and I was on time to happy hour! Things keep working out so I will keep acting accordingly lmao

Do not overextend yourself, if you go beyond your normal limits the time will come when you have to pay for this

Thissssssss fml bc at happy hour I had a mango mojito and it was good but too sweet so then I got the espresso martini flight and it was sooo cute and soooo yummy! Except....I barely ate that day and the food at the restaurant was meh so we just shared buffalo chicken dip and when I got home at like 8pm I felt fine and thennnn i could NOT go to sleep bc 3 espresso martinis!! So i had a dance party in my apt to burn off energy and all of a sudden it was 3am and I go to bed and i feel SICK to my fucking stomach I was so bloated I felt lightheaded I got up and not even alka seltzer could save me omg I started doing high knees at 4am bc in my head moving like that would move my intestines lol I went to sleep at 4:30 and then the whole next day I felt sooooo bad but I blamed the eclipse energy lmfaooo (narrator: she did that shit to herself!!")

Jupiter rules your desire to include more of the universe in your own experiences

I was seeing 333 everywhere including on the bar code of a cookie I was eating lol

Mars trine Mars (Apr 4 - Apr 11)

Time of vigorous self assertion, make it clear you are willing to work for what you want

I actually had assignments I liked at work and I wrote a motion from scratch for an attorney and he wanted me to add something in there and I was like the rule doesn't include that tho... so I didn't put it and he added it himself after I turned in my draft and when he sent it to the director for signature the director deleted it LMFAO i was on cloud 9 for dayssss

Energy level is high, physical labor releases it more effectively

Dance parties were my go to! I thought I might tackle my laundry but nope

Mars is an ego-oriented planet and you'll be strongly motivated toward tasks that bring you credit, might be better to work alone

yes! all the assignments I was doing at work were not group assignments and the other attorneys were like "this is so helpful!" My head was getting so big lmao

Greater effectiveness when resuming unfinished projects

One of my assignments was research and I realized I actually did it Aug 2023 and they were asking me the same question lol but then we expanded it and found something we didn't last year!

If you have been trying to do something but have lacked the right opportunity this transit should get it moving, greater self confidence, pushing your own interests is more successful

I had a meeting with my mentor on 4/11 and I told her to put me in contact with someone she knows who works in immigration so I could volunteer bc I'm trying to get experience! But then it was weird bc the person was like okay let's meet at your next mentor meeting.....June 14 like girl why are we waiting so long?? lmao maybe for the best who knows!

[iamfuckingsorry]

Hiya tumblr :)

I used to use this blog for venting and rants all the fucking time as a child (or like, possibly even into my early 20s, but my point is it was a pretty long time ago). Apparently I haven't made a personal post since like 2017, which honestly tracks with the general development of my mental health, but apparently I'm nearly 30 and back to where I was pre-2017 so here we fucking go :)

I'm just like. Ugh. Everything in life is very ugh atm. My thesis project sucks, it's mostly programming and doing stats which I fucking hate, I'm not learning any of the skills I want to learn, I could have found something so much better if I'd just cared when searching for a supervisor, but I couldn't even be assed to do that... So now I'm stuck doing this fucking thing because I was supposed to graduate 2 years ago and I fucked off doing random cool shit instead having a great time at life and so now I better fucking finish this goddamn degree.

Which I don't even want, by the way. I don't want the jobs you get with this degree except for the ones you need experience doing things I am not learning for my thesis project for, I don't want the title, I don't want any of it. But this thing takes 5 years to do when you graduate on time, and I'm so so close to finishing, I'm not gonna give up now and leave without the degree. Even though it might legit be better for my future career if I didn't have the degree, I'm too fucking stubborn for my own good and I'm not gonna leave without the degree even if it kills me.

What I really want to do is do one more year of uni to get a professional cert (which you also can get as part of a bachelor's degree, but of course I didn't choose the right degree for that because I felt like I had to do an engineering degree even though I never had any real interest in it), then use that professional cert to get a mediocre dead-end job up north. Where there's no jobs in the field I'm currently in so I can't really move there unless I get this cert. But it also just feels so fucking wrong to get this cert instead of, like, getting a proper fucking job and finally being done with uni. (though the cert is like very practical, it's like 70% work placements, which honestly sounds nice). And like, I know the only reason it feels wrong is because I grew up with classist parents who think people who've gone to grad school are better than everyone else and that earning a lot of money is important, but recognizing that doesn't really help with the feeling now does it? Realistically speaking I'm never gonna get this cert which means I won't end up moving to where I wanna live and instead stay where I am even though I don't really like this place or move to the capital (honestly a worse option than staying where I am) because that's where I am most likely to get a shitty job somewhat relevant to this meh degree I'm getting that I don't even want.

...if I can get my fucking thesis done.

Because I have zero fucking motivation now, and the fact that I've been clinically depressed for literally as long as I can remember (not exaggerating here, I was suicidal at like 9-10) means the consequences of not doing shit don't do anything to motivate me anymore either.

I do maaaybe like 15 hours of work on this full-time thesis project right now. And even that might legit be enough to just barely get it done, but... it might not be. And it feels like there's no fucking force in this world that can make me work on it more than this bare fucking minimum.

Ugh.

I don't know what I'm doing with my life, and honestly it fucking sucks.

[milkywaygg]

Confidential Affairs Chapter 10

Cosma interpretation belongs to @eripops. Ik there's a lot of chapters in this but I swear things will hit the fan soon lol. Might be posted later tonight or tomorrow. We'll see.

Month 5

Weeks had passed and Euphemia’s lie had gotten unnoticed. Despite her parents constantly trying to set dates with random business partners and having to come up with crazy excuses not to go, Euphemia was at least thankful that they’d start sending her money to help with rent once more. Because of them, they were able to shop around for baby clothes and had the ability to pay for a wedding cake tasting, where Jules basically inhaled all the samples, even from flavors she knew he didn’t like. She also got a kick out of his indecisiveness; battling between chocolate and vanilla before going with two halves with each flavor, alongside buying a pack of red velvet cupcakes for Jules to pig out on. 

Meanwhile, Jules had finally reached the point where his baby bump was completely out in the open, his shirts barely able to still cover it. Throughout the days, Euphemia had also noticed Jules’ movement was slower and was now having trouble with simple things such as reaching for a cup from their cabinet, or bending over to pick something up. Occasionally, she even had to bridal carry him up and down the stairs, not that she minded. She smiled lovingly at him as she did so, imagining herself carrying him all the way down the aisle to the limo that said “Just Married” on the back. 

Despite loving the fact that he needed more attention, Euphemia couldn’t help but worry as she watched his wobble around, barely able to move like he used to, She thought about his job and how he and his unborn would potentially have to stand on his feet for 8 hours, bending and hurting his back as he crafted beautiful bouquets for people who treat him like absolute garbage and having to stress out about multiple orders from people too lazy to grow their own flowers. Deciding to take a break from her secret job searching, Euphemia turned off her computer and left the room, taking a seat on the couch to watch TV as she waited for Jules to get home from work.

“Oh? Euphemia! I’m surprised you’re home.”, Jules’ voice suddenly made an entrance through the room, alongside the sound of a closed door, “You usually don’t get home until late.”

“Meh..they let me go early. We uh…ended up having some technical difficulties with the servers. Plus..we were slow.”, Euphemia said, kissing Jules’ cheek, before noticing his tired, and somewhat sad face, “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Bad day.”

“The worst.”, Jules sighed, collapsing onto the couch next to his fiance, “A lot of the customers today were just…so rude for no reason…I-my mind has been so scrambled lately trying to take care of this baby and planning our wedding, I-I’ve been messing up on taking orders and preparing them. I’ve lost count of how many times I had apologized to them, and a few of them even complained about me to my supervisor. Calling me stupid…useless…”

“Oh hell no…”

“That’s not even the worst of it!”, Jules sighed, wiping small tears off his cheeks, “She came back.”

“She? What are you-oh…you mean that bitch back from when I visited you at work?”

“Yes..I was barely able to block her wand spells. I think if I had just been a little bit bigger, then she’d probably have gotten me.”

Euphemia shook as she listened to Jules vent, her magical cores boiling and her blood fuming. If only she knew where she lived. Euphemia wanted no more than to turn Karen into a toad and keep her like that for the rest of her life. She knew her magic was powerful enough. Unlike most fairies, her transforming spells were permanent to her victims, regardless if their fagiggly gland was perfect or not. She remembers the time she had to turn one of her bullies into a fly in high school, not for pounding her or shoving her in the locker, but for smacking Jules’ behind in a flirty way. If only she could have been there for him now..

“Well..maybe it’s time.”, Euphemia started, “I’ve been thinking, you’re on your 5th month now, and..I think it’s time you talked to your boss about taking paternity leave, or quitting.”

“Quit my job? Why?”

“I can’t help but think about our baby, and lately, you just look like you’ve been struggling a lot.”

“Not more than I had normally been.”

“Well sweetie..it’s not just that.”, Euphemia started, massaging Jules’ somewhat tense shoulders, “I’ve been thinking about after the baby is born, and I just can’t help but wonder if you would want to become a house husband. You know, so you can take care of the baby while I’m working.”

“That wouldn’t be a bad idea, but you know, I’ve worked there for 5 years now, and I absolutely love doing it. It would hurt having to leave.”

“You have your flowers in your garden to still tend to. Plus, would you rather spend a bunch of money having a stranger taking care of your little baby rather than doing it yourself for free?”

“I guess when you put it that way..”, Jules thought.

“And it really wouldn’t make sense for me to quit because, no offense sweetheart, but I do bring in more cash than you.”

“Well..”, Jules pondered for a moment. He had loved tending to his flowers and watching fairies fall in love over red roses every day since he had started his job. He loved watching women present the roses to their husband and getting some rather passionate kisses in return. He event had the pleasure of watching a proposal right in front of the counter; his co-workers yelping and cheering for the eloped couple. There was no doubt in his mind that he loved working at the flower shop and no amount of Karens or rude customers could level out the love flowing through the air.

But the more Euphemia tried to explain to him, the more he couldn’t help but agree with her. Of course, leaving the flower shop would hurt, but his parents had often taught him that no family could be healthy or strong without a few sacrifices here and there, and knowing how much Euphemia had sacrificed since he had told her about his pregnancy, Jules felt as if it was his time to return the favor.

“Well…if this it what you want.”, Jules said, smiling softly but sadly as Euphemia returned the look, stroking his seaweed colored hair.

“Trust me. I only want what’s best for you and our little one. Just let me handle everything on the finance end from now on. Until this wedding and baby comes, I want you to take it easy for a little while. Just do whatever household chores you can without hurting yourself and you’ll be doing more than your share.”

“Well..I…ok but, you know I can still help out, right? I mean,I’m not THAT big yet.”

“Sweetheart, just do this for me. Please?” Euphemia begged as she squeezed Jules’ hand, before earning a nod, kissing his lips passionately before snuggling up against him, “You know I love you right?”

“Of course. I love you too, hunny bunny.”

[thegraygardens]

23/10/28

I’ll be honest… I haven’t been doing all too well honestly.

Today was a “meh” day. It was very hot in the building and thankfully I was moved to an easier department where compared to my home department has little movement (despite standing for twelve hours). The heat was ridiculous in the building, especially since my main department is heavily speed and psychical activity based; I was sweating so bad and it was so horrible. But at work, we had a very big meeting with everyone in the building for the weekend shifts and it was pretty mediocre announcements. However, they did standing ovations for employees and how it works is people are nominated by coworkers and the supervisor chooses who’ll get it (normally 4 per department from what I’ve seen today). However, our supervisor awarded no one with any ovations and also didn’t show up to work.

I myself am a very active and good worker in my department, I’m always exceeding expectations and meeting said expectations. I do a lot of work to where at times it feels like I do the work of ten people with how often they seem to rely on me to where it seems ridiculous. I have been told by a group lead that I was one of the best there in the department and know for sure I would have received an ovation.

I’m not upset about not receiving basically a shoutout and a five dollar gift card, no, but it is very disappointing because these ovations are meant to highlight the people who make a difference in the work place and a way to say thank you to them. Fellow coworkers and I that are also very skilled with our jobs were very upset with this, we obviously couldn’t exchange words with our supervisor because she did not come in today. I believe it was intentional because she foresaw how we’d react, I just find it to be very careless and in poor taste considering her job is MUCH easier compared to my coworkers and I; hers is basically 24/7 computer and sedentary. I can’t imagine the social faux pas this will cause when she is at work again, she seemed to piss off all the good people there that can do their jobs very well. A big thing is we have others who do not do their jobs and are very inefficient, apparently the low numbers in productivity is threatening her status as supervisor with apparent words of being fired.

It’s all so trivial but… y’know? I work very hard for my money and my efficiency obviously has more eyes on me because my abilities are prevalent. To be unacknowledged and unappreciated in the work place for good work is very disappointing, and many other coworkers feel the same exact way and are very upset with this.

Ah.. forgive my rambling >_<”

It was just something that irked me today.

However, another thing that has bothered me at work is the fact an associate (believed to be one on the weekday shift) had committed suicide and no one has even acknowledged it. Not a word from any management, no moments of silence, and management apparently saying not to speak of them when people ask where this person is.

I have a problem with this as someone who has and is actively struggling with suicidal thoughts. It comes off as extremely ignorant, careless and inconsiderate.

I have had a lot of bad thoughts lately. I 100% need to boost my meds next appointment, my head has been a horrible and dark place. I might see if I can get something that has weight loss, my body dysmorphia has been so bad. I can’t love my body honestly. As someone who spends Friday-Sunday with extreme psychical activity, I haven’t noticed much loss and it’s very disappointing; especially with my self image issues which have been very rampant.

I really would love a flat stomach and to have a figure I can love and be proud of, I find my body gross and cover it up every chance I get. I’m not proud of it at all and it makes me feel horrible. Gender dysphoria and body dysmorphia together, ah… it’s hell honestly.

Thank you tumblrland for listening to my thoughts ^^

[mariacallous]

The two meetings I’ve been in so far today have been meh - one of them I took the lead on and once again had the outline or flow I’d put together ignored in favor of jumping around and backtracking and not getting any firm decisions.

I’m tired which is weird because I got a good amount of sleep? I’m just feeling very meh and unmotivated and my supervisor and the overall team director keep talking about projects or delegation but then it never seems to happen? And with them both being remote so much that adds to it.

Additionally, I found out today that I was just added to the office wide full staff chat which I didn’t realize was an actual thing and then asked why I didn’t mention anything sooner.

[storiesofsvu]

Two Month Flirtation

Erin Lindsay x fem!reader Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption, smut. thatesqcrush​ asked for some Erin Lindsay Xmas Smut but it didn’t make the cut before I got overwhelmed and her response was “good thing Valentine’s is coming up” so…enjoy some pwp for Det Lindsay. Also there’s basically no plot because I haven’t watched PD in months, esp ones with Erin…so…don’t hate me. Also I kinda just tagged random ppl for this one, lmk if you want to/don’t want to be tagged for Erin!

**

Erin was thankful for the fact that Molly’s didn’t decorate for Valentine’s Day, the fact that it was still just a regular bar for anyone who was trying to avoid the consumer prompted holiday. Slipping onto a stool at the bar she thanked Chris as he slid her a beer ‘on the house’ with a warm smile. As she sucked back a rather large gulp she glanced around the room, it was relatively empty aside from a handful of regulars. Her eyes swept down the wood of the bar and she spotted you, half empty glass of scotch in front of you while, unsurprisingly, you were bent over what looked like paperwork, eyes flitting back and fourth between it and your phone.

Her mind wandered back to the Chicago P.D Christmas party, to help save on budget most of the specialized units across the city had been shoveled together into one event. She’d briefly been introduced to you by Voight, you’d worked with him helping to form the Intelligence Unit before she came along. Now, you’d climbed through the ranks and were the Lieutenant over at Major Crimes running your own unit. It was impressive, you were younger than most Lieutenants, though she’d heard you’d graduated early, jumping straight into the academy while you pusued a criminology degree, and were quick to be pulled into UC ops.

Then there was New Year’s Eve, underneath the twinkling lights of Molly’s you’d joined a few friends in the bar, making sure to stop in to say Happy New Year to Hank. Erin had caught your eye that night, you’d chatted briefly, dare she say it, flirted even. You’d been mid conversation, about to offer to buy her a drink when your phone went off, with a frustrated groan, you left the bar to head down to a crime scene.

But tonight, tonight had potential to be different. Erin watched as you flipped through a couple of pages, appearing to double check some last minute changes before flipping the entire thing shut, shoving it back in your bag. You smiled as Chris poured you a fresh drink, laughing at something he said before he turned to another customer. As if you could feel eyes on you, your head turned toward Lindsay at the other end of the bar. Catching her eye she felt her cheeks flush, wishing she could’ve glanced away but she knew she was too late. You smirked, raising your glass to her with a wink, she shot a flustered smile back before returning the salute and swigging back her drink.

She was busy distracting herself with her phone, not noticing you were approaching until you had one arm looped around the back of her chair, the other resting on the bar.

“It appears you spend all your major holidays here.” You greeted with a grin.

“Lieutenant…hi..” she fumbled and you chuckled.

“You can call me y/n, I’m not your supervisor.”

“Right.” She took a swig of beer, “how are you?”

“Meh,” you shrugged, “it’s another day.”

“I feel you.” Erin drained her beer, your eyes watched the way her fingers delicately wrapped around the neck of the bottle as she placed it down.

“Listen, I’m not going to beat around the bush, we’ve been playing at this game for nearly two months already.” Her eyes darted up to your, a curious expression on her face, “I’m going to walk out those doors, I’ll wait in my car for three minutes for you to catch up if you’re interested in coming home with me. Otherwise, I’ll see ya around detective.”

**

Some people would have thought you were taking way too far of a risk with the blunt way you’d approached Erin, but you had more than enough confidence that after the last few parties, you knew what the outcome was going to be. And you weren’t surprised when she sped out of the door a few minutes later.

You were surprised once the door to your apartment had been swung shut and she pounced, the previous bashful personality she’d shown around you dissolving for one much more dominant, one you knew had been lingering just beneath the surface. Her lips met yours in a fiery kiss, hands wrapping around your waist, tugging you tightly to her. Her hands started to toy with the hem of your shirt, fingers tickling patterns along your bare skin in the same moment that her tongue traced across your lips, begging for entrance. You slipped your tongue out, dancing against hers, massaging into her mouth, groaning at the taste, hands curling into her hair, tugging at the roots, pulling a whine from the blonde.

A flurry of arms and clothing moved down the hallway while you tore fabric from each other’s frames, hands tugging the other back to you for heated kisses. Teeth nipped into lips, sinking into the tender skin of a neck, lips sucking at pulse points, smirking at the feeling of blood throbbing just under the skin. Breathy moans began to bounce off the walls as hands cupped at chests, pinching at nipples, eager to bring them to hardened peaks.

You wrapped an arm around Erin, backing to the bed until you collapsed down to sitting on it, shuffling backwards with her in your lap while you nipped at her jaw. You shifted so she was straddling your thigh, her pussy resting against yours, your other leg wrapping around her hip, tugging her to you, your hand cupping at her ass.

“Oh fuck…” she muttered as your hands guided her to roll against you, her clit dragging right against yours.

“Good girl.” You murmured, “just like that.”

Your hand encouraged her hips to roll again, gasping at the contact as she brushed right up on you. Erin’s head dropped back in a breathy groan, grinding against you harder this time, sparks racing through her body at the contact of the sensitive nub. Doing your best from your sitting position to thrust your hips up to meet hers your lips wrapped around her nipple, sucking the supple skin into your mouth. Tongue dancing and lapping at the pert nub, tracing patterns around it while your teeth gently scraped over it. Erin’s breathing picked up, panting out a litter or swears as the speed of her hips continued to increase.

The hand that was tangled into your hand shifted around to your chest, pushing you down into the bed, giving her more leverage to move her cunt against yours, chasing her own release. You swore at the friction, hips jolting up toward hers, your lips swiftly catching hers in another kiss. It was hot a breathy, full of gasps and moans as you whimpered practically into each other’s lungs.

With the new angle you were able to slip your hand around her hip, fingers easily sinking into her dripping pussy. Erin moaned at the sudden intrusion, burying her head into the crook of your neck as your hand began to fuck her in rhythm with her hips. Your fingers twisted, curling to search for the spongey sensitive spot within her fluttering walls. You felt your pussy clench around nothing as Erin ground heavily against your clit, her teeth sinking into your neck, beginning to suck and lick a heavy mark on your skin. Your free hand wrapped into her hair, pushing her deeper against your body, your own hips gyrating up to meet hers, your skin could feel the fire burning within you, building with each roll of your hips.

Your fingers pumped easily into her, scissoring, dragging across every inch of her walls, her moans getting louder with each thrust, even if they were muffled by your shoulder. Erin began to shudder against you, thighs clamping down around yours as she started to stutter, her pussy fluttering quicker and tighter around your fingers. You increased the pressure as you curled your fingers inside her, grinding your hips up against her clit the best you could while she yelped out, reaching her climax.

It only took a moment for her to take a shaky breath, body shivering as she pulled off you, ducking down quickly. You cried out in surprise as her fingers plunged into you with ease, lips wrapping around your clit. She could already feel how close you were from just having her body on you, from the way she’d scissored into your cunt. Groaning at the taste of your juices she lapped them up, circling around your clit with her tongue. Her fingers curled perfectly, hitting your gspot and you moaned loudly, your thighs trembling around her head. The coil burned deep within you, racing to the surface as she sucked heavily at your clit, pulling it into her mouth, teeth scraping against it just the perfect amount and you swore loudly, body shaking, jolting to a still as your orgasm shot through you.

The hand in her hair relaxed as you dropped down into the pillows, panting for breath, tugging Erin up next to you. Your arm wrapped around her, encouraging her to curl around your body, hand coming up to gently play with her hair. Her nails softly traced patterns in your bare skin, giving you both a comfortable silence to come back to earth. She hummed pleasantly at the feeling of your lips meeting the top of your head.

“Well that was worth the wait.” She teased, murmuring into the room. You chuckled, swatting at her ass.

“It was.” You tilted her chin up, “but I’m not waiting another two months of bullshit flirting at company parties to do it again.”

“Who said you had to wait at all?” Erin smirked, laughing at the way you yelped as she flipped you back over, the smile evident on both of your lips as she met yours in a slightly more gentle kiss this time.

It may have taken a while, but at least you were most definitely on the same page now, and more than ever willing to keep the fun going.

[smol-and-grumpy]

Legally Yours - Ch. 01 (Prologue)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester tops the list of hottest entrepreneurs 2020 and yet, there’s still something he wants but can’t have because, in order to get that, he would have to settle down and get married. She agrees too quickly because she wants to secure a more comfortable life for her and her daughter. Will she be able to help Dean get what he wants without losing herself in the fake story they spin up to deceive his father and the world?

Chapter Warnings: None. Maybe the end will get your heart racing.

WC: 1796

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons​ <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Buy me a coffee

Y/N’s sitting at her desk as she types an answer to the inquiry from a customer, when her friend Donna practically slams a glamour magazine over her keyboard. 

“Have you seen this?” The blond woman asks. 

“Jesus, Donna! I haven’t saved that document yet! God!” She picks the magazine up and tosses it to the side as she continues to finish the document on her screen. 

Donna’s still waiting, staring at her and she wonders if that woman has nothing else to do. Y/N’s sure Donna has plenty to do, they always have a lot of work and that’s why she gets home so late and sometimes, Liv would already be asleep. Sometimes, when she’s lucky, Liv was awake and she’d read her a bedtime story of princesses who are rescued by a heroic prince.

As soon as Y/N is finished, she turns around in her chair, to see her friend still staring at her instead of doing her own work. 

“What is it?” She asked with that added annoyed nuance to her tone of voice.

“Look!” Donna lifts her chin to point towards the magazine she slammed in front of Y/N just a moment before, “Have you seen it?”

Turning back around to her desk, she picks it up, “Donna, I’m not reading those mags, so no, I haven’t seen it. Why?”

Instead of answering her, Donna only grins. The grin that shows her dimples. The wicked one, “Page twenty-six,” 

With raised eyebrows and that little spark of curiosity which Donna had added to her interest, Y/N rifles through the pages until she reaches page twenty-six. 

There’s a picture of a man who stares right at her. He’s wearing a perfect suit. His one hand fakes the adjusting of his cufflink on his wrist. It’s a total male model pose. Well, he looks like one, so she can’t really say that anything’s out of the ordinary. 

At a second glance, though, she realizes that he looks familiar. His face is a little scruffy, but that makes him look edgier, makes him look more handsome. He’s smiling bright, showing his perfect white teeth. There are crinkles around his emerald eyes, seven on his right side, and she knows she shouldn’t even be counting them, so she ignores his left side. And she definitely can’t help but notice the freckles across his face. 

Oh, she thinks.

Oooohhhh.

“Is that..?” She asks with a frown that gets deeper between her eyebrows because she’s just not sure? She hasn’t seen the man that many times in real life. 

“Ya! Our fucking boss! The icy King!” Donna shouts, “Isn’t he dreamy? My god, I wanna eat him up! And he doesn’t look as icy and distant like he always does,”

“Donna!”

“What? Only telling the truth here! Read what the headline says!”

Her friend is right, though, Mr. Winchester’s normal aloof and cold persona isn’t captured in the picture. He’s known to be the icy King in the company. Instead, he looks kind of welcoming and warm. Y/N eyes go to the top of the page, and she can’t lie, it’s hard to concentrate on the writing when there’s a good looking man staring her down.

The headline is in all caps.

 DEAN WINCHESTER, HOTTEST ENTREPRENEUR 2020

 She frowns, as her eyes leave the magazine to look back at her friend, “That’s what you wanted to show me?” 

“Duh! There’s also a whole article about him being the center of attention everywhere he goes,”

“Well, that’s not really surprising, is it? Looking like that?”

“It also says that he has a fiancée.”

“That’s also not surprising,” Y/N shrugs, “I mean, seriously, look at him. Who wouldn’t want to marry that?” She didn't. At least not when they say that he’s cold-hearted. But again, she’s not the norm here because every female is gushing about him. 

She closes the magazine loudly, deciding that she shouldn’t waste more time. She wants to get home on time today. Liv went on a field trip with her school and she wants to hear her little girl telling her about how exciting it was. Y/N still has a lot of work to do and also a meeting with her supervisor later. The sleazebag.

“So, can I go back to work?” She turns to Donna, “I have a meeting with Raphael in about twenty minutes.”

“Ew,” Donna cringes her nose.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Exactly,”

“Will you tell him off?”

“I already did,” She sighs, “Multiple times,”

“Why don’t you just go to HR?”

Donna knows what happens. What always happens when she has a meeting with Raphael. He’s always trying things with her. Accidentally brushes his hand against her breast or her ass. He once told her to sit in his lap as he was showing her the numbers of her performance. It wasn’t the first time he suggested it, and she doubts that it will be the last time either. He tried to kiss her more than once, but knowing that they are in an office environment, he didn’t dare to force her too much. He also offers to drive her home almost every week, and she’s slowly getting tired of it, not to mention creeped out.

At their last meeting, he made her hang up a picture frame in his office. His hand rested on her hips to supposedly support her, but they traveled further down until he kneaded her ass in his palms. She immediately got down from there, and left the room wordlessly. 

She knows another secret about Raphael, though. One she could use against him, but she just doesn’t know how just yet. Y/N knows and has got proof that he’s been skimming money. He takes it out of the customer’s account. Not a lot, a small sum that customers wouldn’t notice is missing, but in the end, it’s probably a whole lot when he does it to all the customers he’s supposed to look after. 

Again, she can’t really bring that up because she’s sure that he’ll spin it around and Raphael is good at that. With a push on the button of his keyboard, he could reverse everything and she knows that. 

“I can’t go to HR,” Y/N lowers her head and mumbles to her friend, “Because they won’t believe me,”

And that’s the truth too. The Head of HR is Duma, a woman who occasionally fucks Raphael. They have a friend with benefits thing going on, even if she’s married with children. Duma will never believe her because Y/N’s sure that Raphael can spin this perfectly to fit his narrative. 

Besides, what can she possibly tell? It’s her against him. It’s like a mouse against an elephant. She’s only an accountant and is replaceable, whereas Raphael is a member of the leadership team. And who will be let go? She doesn’t think it’s going to be him and she needs the job to survive. 

Y/N watches as Donna’s lips start to curl up, the white teeth of the woman are visible, as she drums her fingers annoyingly on her own desk.

With a frown, she asks her friend, “What?”

“I have an idea,” Donna says and pulls up her outlook calendar. 

She types in something, and then a calendar appears with a lot of colorful blocks. 

Oh no. She has quite the idea of who’s calendar it is even if she can’t read the name from where she’s sitting, which is too far away because she doesn’t want to give the impression that she’s not working. And it’s stupid that they can do that. They have quite an open calendar policy at the office. Everyone can send and block meetings for everyone, even for the icy King. 

“Donna, no!”

“Why, Donna, yes!” Her friend grins, “He has an open window right now. The meeting in the boardroom is in ten minutes. You should go tell him what you know. If someone can change anything, it’s him, right?”

Donna’s not wrong, she isn’t. But Mr. Winchester is what? At least four tiers above her if not five. Why should he care what a simple worker in his company is thinking? Why should he care what the hell she goes through every day while he earns enough profit to fuel his expensive and glamorous lifestyle?

“He wouldn’t believe me,” She shakes her head.

“You can tell him about the money skimming, I bet he won’t be happy to hear that.”

“Ugh,”

Donna stands up and walks over to her, braces her hands on the chair Y/N’s sitting on, “What’s the worst that could happen, huh?”

“That I get fired?”

“Meh,” Donna squeaked, “I doubt that. You’re doing a great job. Your records are great. And besides, if they do that, you can go and file a lawsuit against them. Besides, who knows, if you go to HR, Raphael will fire you before the icy King does.”

True, but still. 

“Now go get your ass up to the executive floor. Maybe take him a coffee, I heard he likes it black,”

“Oh, just like his heart?”

“Ya, maybe I wouldn’t tell him that?” Donna chuckles.

 *

 Y/N’s on her way to the elevators. She can’t believe that she’s really doing it. But Donna’s right. She can’t go on and live like that. It’s already hard to part from her child every morning and to get bullied at her job and being sexually harassed should not be the norm. She just fucking wants to earn enough money to keep her kid and herself above water.

God, she’s really doing it! 

Fuck.

There are six elevators lined up in the foyer. Three on each side. Only one goes up to the executive floor and also one is reserved for Mr. Winchester’s penthouse on the top floor. Everybody knows that. 

To get the elevator to run up to the executive floor, Y/N would need to have a card with a chip, which she doesn’t, and she feels stupid to have just realized it. And now she’s standing here, lost, with a hot black coffee in a lidless plastic cup that almost burns her fingers off.

Ugh. 

She’s so fucking stupid.

Well, she could still try, couldn’t she? She jumped over her own fear and has come this far. She definitely shouldn’t give up now. 

Her finger hovers over the buttons. Closing her eyes and exhaling loudly, she gives the button a push. Standing back, she waits, her heart is drumming loudly against her ribcage.

And she doesn’t even have to wait long because not even thirty seconds later, the elevator dings and opens up to reveal a man in a nice suit staring back at her.

It’s him.

Ch. 02

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

[lockefanfic]

Business Trip: Pt 41 - Ties

“Look what I’ve found,” Chaeyoung says as you open the door to your hotel room to find her leaning against the door frame, a bottle of amber liquor in her small hands.

You smirk at her before moving aside to let the young woman saunter into your room, your eyes admiring the lovely curve of her backside as she makes her way inside. She tosses a small plastic package onto the bed - even from the hotel room foyer you could tell they were probably zip ties.

“Is that whisky? There should be glasses on top of the mini bar-”

“We won’t need any,” she interrupts, before tearing the label from the bottle’s cap, casually tossing the label over her shoulder, and twisting off the cap. She takes a small swig right from its lips, her small features scrunching adorably as the bittersweet liquid enters her mouth.

“Fuck that’s smooth,” she says, giving the bottle an appraising look as she does so. When she looks back up at you, she raises her free hand, curling her fingertip into a ‘come hither’ motion.

Officer Miyawaki Sakura wasn’t a very good translator, if the exasperated look of frustration on Chou Tzuyu’s face was any indication.

“Tzuyu looks like she’s about to tear her head off,” Chaeyoung observes as you both observe the conversation being held in the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department’s impound lot. 

“At least she’s trying her best,” you respond. Officer Miyawaki’s enthusiasm wasn’t lacking, even if her translation skills were. You found yourself wishing you’d just brought Sana along like you’d originally planned - Sana’s original position at JYP was as a translator, after all - but Tzuyu had already contacted Officer Miyawaki in advance and made arrangements for the meeting before you could suggest bringing a translator of your own.

“She’s a hot piece, at least. How long until you’re hitting that, boss?”

You bristle a little at Chaeyoung’s words, although considering your history with each of the girls on your team you suppose she couldn’t be blamed.

“You have a thing for Japanese girls, huh?” you counter, hoping to change the subject.

Chaeyoung shrugs. “I suppose. They’re hot as fuck. I wouldn’t mind taking that one for a ride.” 

You give Chaeyoung a smirk that she ignores, her hungry eyes locked on Sakura’s desperate attempts to translate the impound lot supervisor’s words into English for Tzuyu. The liaison officer ended up relying mainly on hand gestures and body movements when she failed to come up with the right English. You couldn’t fault Chaeyoung for staring - Sakura’s large, expressive eyes and her cute features made her easy on the eyes, a bit like an anime character come to life.

“Speaking of rides, at least she scored us this one,” you say, motioning with your head towards the shiny red Ferrari a few feet away.

“Fuck yeah,” Chaeyoung agrees, the expensive sports car finally enough to take her attention away from the increasingly intense conversation taking place at the other end of the lot. She strides over to the six figure car, reaching out and grazing its sleek lines with her fingertips. “You’ve gotta let me take this for a spin sometime, boss.”

“It’s not ours, Chaeyoung. It’s strictly for the party. I can’t have you running up speed tickets or scratching it up. I’m pretty sure it belongs to some Yakuza type. There’s probably a body in the trunk.”

“C’mon, you can’t get a ride like this and not red line it every now and then. That’s what they’re built for.”

“That’s not what this one is built for. This one is built for making me look like a gangster at that cocktail party.”

The Korean girl lets out a snort of frustration, until a look of realization dawns on her cute, small features. When she begins to saunter over to where you are standing, exaggerating every sway of her hips as a sly smile appears on her lips, you knew where she was going.

“Is there some way I can… convince you, boss?”

You sigh out loud, only half hoping to dissuade her from her line of thinking.

“No, you’re not gonna use sex to get a joyride in a Ferrari out of me. If you’ll recall the last time you seduced me you left me alone, zip tied to a van in a goddamn parking lot. I owe you for that.”

Chaeyoung smirks, a devilish hook at the corners of her mouth as she recalls that evening’s events.

“Don’t say you didn’t like it.”

“Not being able to cum after you had your way with me? Yeah, that was great.”

“Okay, okay, maybe that was a little unnecessary. But, I mean, before that, the sex was good. Slapping you around definitely got me off. You were right on the edge there, weren’t you?”

“Meh,” you reply, lying. “It was alright. Maybe some of it was pretty hot, but I’ve had better.”

Chaeyoung seemed at least partially offended by your response, if the look of shock on her face was anything to go by. The look is quickly replaced by one of annoyance.

“Who the hell are you fucking that’s better than me? Momo? I get it, she’s got the bod… but I bet it’s that Sana chick on your team, isn’t it? Girl looks dangerous, I bet she’s a fucking beast in the sack. Nevermind, I know who it is. Is it Mina? I guess I have a confession to make about her. Y’see boss, she’s-”

“Chaeyoung, the bottom line is you’re not taking the Ferrari. I’ll drive it back to the hotel, and then take it to the cocktail party. We’ll return it to Tokyo PD afterwards. That’s it.”

Chaeyoung pouts. The way that she stuck out her lower lip made her look adorable despite the fact that she was clearly upset at having lost her chance at a joyride in a luxury car. She gives you a dirty look, then looks back at the Ferrari, and then back at you, as though formulating her next course of action. Being refused an opportunity with the sports car and your negative appraisal of her sexual prowess had clearly offended her more than you had expected.

“Gah, fine. We’ll make a deal,” she says after a moment of contemplation.

“I’m listening.”

“You let me take the Ferrari out for a little spin tomorrow. In return, until the cocktail party, I’ll let you take your revenge for the way I treated you last time. You did say you wanted payback, didn’t you?”

“Chaeyoung, I’ve already told you - I’m not gonna take sex as payment for something.”

“Who said anything about it being payment? This is a mutually beneficial transaction. I’m not gonna lie, I haven’t had anything non-electronic between my legs since that time in the van. I’m horny as fuck and I need a dick in me. I get to cruise around Tokyo for a bit in a Ferrari, and you get your own little fucktoy in your hotel room for a couple of days. We both win. Sounds like a great fucking deal.”

You had to admit the prospect of extracting a measure of revenge from Chaeyoung appealed to you, as did the opportunity to blow off some steam before the cocktail party, when you’d need to be 100% on point.

“Alright, fine. Deal. But no leaving me zip tied to the bed while you go reenacting Tokyo Drift in a borrowed car.”

“Agreed!” Chaeyoung says, a sly smile on her lips.

“Bring the zip ties.”

“Oh, I will. You already know this, but it won’t be soft. You better be ready, you pussy.”

“So should you.”

---

“Look what I’ve found,” Chaeyoung says as you open the door to your hotel room to find her leaning against the door frame, a bottle of amber liquor in her small hands.

You smirk at her before moving aside to let the young woman saunter into your room, your eyes admiring the lovely curve of her backside as she makes her way inside. She tosses a small plastic package onto the bed - even from the hotel room foyer you could tell they were probably zip ties.

“Is that whisky? There should be glasses on top of the mini bar-”

“We won’t need any,” she interrupts, before tearing the label from the bottle’s cap, casually tossing the label over her shoulder, and twisting off the cap. She takes a small swig right from its lips, her small features scrunching adorably as the bittersweet liquid enters her mouth.

“Fuck that’s smooth,” she says, giving the bottle an appraising look as she does so. When she looks back up at you, she raises her free hand, curling her fingertip into a ‘come hither’ motion.

You take slow steps towards the girl, enjoying the look of arousal slowly beginning to appear on her face, right along with the blush on her cheeks as the alcohol takes swift effect on her body. When you reach her she wraps her right arm around your neck as you wrap yours around her torso, diving quickly into her neck to plant kisses on her soft skin.

You’d have been lying if you’d said you weren’t looking forward to having her show up at your door. From the moment you’d come to your little agreement involving the Ferrari you’d been looking forward to having your way with her tight little body. She was so different - both physically and in terms of her personality - from the other girls on your team. She didn’t give a damn about the relationships or drama in your life, being uninvested in any of what was going on around her beyond what she needed to do to get paid. 

Her laissez faire attitude towards everything and everyone around her made her so alluring, so attractive. Ever since the first time you had her in that van you knew you had to have more. She was, like the expensive-looking glass bottle of liquor in her hands - intoxicating.

With her left hand, still clutching the bottle of whisky, she takes another shot. With her right hand, she pulls you from her neck by the hairs on the back of your head and crushes your lips with hers - before she spits the whisky into your mouth.

You savor the taste of the bitter amber liquid in your mouth before swallowing it and relishing the slow burn of it as it flows down your throat, even if some of it  missed your mouth and dripped from your chin. It tasted like sin. It tasted like lust. The devilish look on Chaeyoung’s face as she licks the spilt liquor from your chin and throat drives you insane.

She gives you a torrid, passionate kiss full of need. With a hand on your chest, she pushes you onto the bed so you are sitting on its edge.

Her deep brown eyes lock with yours as she hands you the bottle before grasping the edge of her long-sleeved sweater and peeling it off, revealing her naked torso. The collection of tattoos she sported last time you saw her undressed had grown into an almost full sleeve on her right arm, colorful and vibrant in the warm hotel room light. Her cute, youthful features stood in perfect contrast to her tattoos, fashion sense, and the way she carried herself- a juxtaposition that made her so attractive and unlike any other girl you knew.

She is lean and wiry with muscle, small and tight. You’re immediately reminded of your impression of her the first time you saw her topless - a lean feline predator, muscles always tensed and ready to pounce, always on the hunt, always hungry for her next meal.

You take another shot of the whisky. The slow burn of it on your tongue and down your throat is surpassed only by the sheer heat emanating from the topless young woman in front of you.

Chaeyoung straddles you on the bed, kissing you deeply, her tongue playing aggressively on your lips before searching your mouth for its counterpart. As you explore each others’ mouths she reaches for the bottle and takes another swig - and you take the opportunity to plant needy kisses on her upper chest, your hands creeping up her tight sides until you are cupping and squeezing her small, cute little breasts.

You want to devour her small mounds with your lips and tongue - but you possess enough self-control to look up at her before you do so, finding her eyes half-lidded with liquor and lust as she wipes her mouth with the back of a hand. 

She brings the bottle to her mouth once more, but before it reaches her lips she lets it tip, spilling golden liquid over her chest and breasts.

You have only a second to admire the sight before you reach out and catch the rapidly falling liquid, your tongue pressed tightly to her skin to lap up as much of the bitter liquor as you could. 

Her skin glistens with the whisky on it. It looks like spilt gold on pale vanilla. She smells like smokiness and lust. She tastes like cinnamon and sex.

Your tongue, saturated with whisky, finds and captures her left nipple. You close your lips around it, suckling deeply from her chest, enjoying the taste of her body and the liquor that made it spicy and bitter. Chaeyoung gasps and moans as you have your way with her chest, fondling her small mounds, suckling both of her taut nipples - roughly, hungrily, like a starved animal devouring a long-awaited meal.

She is lost in the pleasure you are bringing to her body. So lost she doesn’t notice your right hand reaching for the package of zip ties she so casually discarded onto the bed, thinking she would be the one to use them on you.

How wrong she would be. 

You bring the package behind her, using your other hand to pick a zip tie from it before dropping it to the floor. Reaching for the bottle of whisky, you take it from her hand and place it onto the nightstand. It would be a shame to spill such fine liquor, after all.

Chaeyoung is in a daze, the liquor and your work on her breasts putting her into a lust and alcohol induced stupor.

A light “Whaa--?” is all she can muster as you gather her wrists behind her back, slip the zip tie over them, and close the plastic tie shut.

“It’s my turn tonight, Chaeyoung,” you hiss as you look into her eyes. There is a look of surprise there - but when she licks her lips and realizes what you’ve done, the look of surprise turns into a look of challenge.

“Then let’s see what you can do to me, you pussy.”

You half stand from bed, forcing her off your lap - although you grasp her naked back to ensure she didn’t go falling off it. You pull your boxers off your body, kicking them off with your feet, your t-shirt soon joining them on the floor. Naked now, you sit back down on the bed before you reach up and grasp the back of Chaeyoung’s head, forcing her down roughly onto her knees between your legs, your stiff shaft inches from her face.

You consider ordering her to suck your dick - vocalizing your demand. But in her eyes is a glint of defiance tinged with lust. She opens her mouth as if to say something defiant - and you take the opportunity to force your shaft into between her open lips.

The young woman gags initially as her mouth is invaded by hard flesh, and you feel a momentary tinge of regret with your roughness - but it soon disappears when Chaeyoung closes her lips around your shaft and you feel the wet warmth of her mouth for the first time.

You’d had more than your fair share of oral sex, especially in the past few months. Some were sublimely skilled, some passionate and caring - but few had the raw enthusiasm of Chaeyoung, who wasted no time with a slow ramping up of pleasure or technique. Almost as soon as you were in her mouth she was bobbing her head up and down between your legs, her tongue pressed tightly around your underside or swirling in random patterns around your head. 

Those full lips of hers created such a delicious friction around your shaft that you had to let your head fall back and sigh with pleasure involuntarily - something you rarely did when receiving oral, because you were usually focused on enjoying the sight of the woman between your legs working her magic. Not so with Chaeyoung. Not so with her straightforward, no-bullshit approach to pleasure and the acquisition thereof.

After a while you begin to thrust your hips up into her mouth as best you could given your sitting position, even resting your left hand onto the bed to give yourself more leverage. But soon even that is not enough - you need more, need to fully take this woman’s mouth, claim it as your own.

You rise from the bed until you are standing above her, Chaeyoung taking care not to let your cock slip out from her mouth for even a moment. You grasp the back of her head with your left hand and the bottle of whisky from the nightstand with the other. As you partake in another shot of liquor you begin fucking her mouth.

The audacity of it - fucking the helpless but wanton young woman’s mouth while you took shots of a fine, expensive whisky straight from the bottle - only heightened the delicious pleasure worming its way through every fibre of your being.

It doesn’t take much longer for you to approach orgasm. Not when the feel of the young woman’s helpless mouth around your cock is so delicious, so utterly sublime - made even more so by the sight of her, hands bound by her wrists behind her back, eyes occasionally looking up at you with equal parts lust and need and a little lingering defiance, as though she wanted to show you she was capable of taking everything you had to throw at her.

Oftentimes when it came to oral sex it was just a prelude, and you or your partner or both would stop before orgasm, saving your energy for the main event. Not so tonight, and not so with Chaeyoung. You knew you had time to spare. And you knew this was just the beginning. For now, there was a lesson to be taught.

With a few last thrusts into her wet, hot mouth you bury your cock as deeply between her lips as it will go, her cute little nose bottomed out against your crotch as you finally let your orgasm overtake you and you send thick, hot semen directly down her throat.

You watch, half-drunk with both lust and liquor, as the look of resistance remains in Chaeyoung’s eyes even as she struggles, partially in vain, to swallow your seed fast enough. When begins to gag, you finally relent and remove your cock from her mouth - she coughs and spits out only enough cum to ensure she can breathe freely again before looking back up at you, a spill of semen dripping from her lips. She opens her mouth to show you a tongue thick with cum before closing it and working her throat, swallowing every drop she could.

“You like the taste of that, Chaeyoung?” you ask, the words leaving your mouth sharply.

“Meh,” she replies, eyes bold. “It was alright. I’ve had better.”

You let a smile appear on your lips. You are still clutching the hair at the back of her head, and you press her face against your still-half hard cock, still slick with your cum and her spit.

“Of course you have… you-”

“Do it. Fucking do it, you pussy. Call me what you want to call me.” Her tongue darts out to lick slick juices from your shaft, even as you smear the slick flesh against her face. “Or are you too much of a gentleman to call a woman a dirty word? Too used to fucking proper little princesses with feelings and shit? Do it. Call me what you want.”

“You fucking slut.”

There is a new glint in Chaeyoung’s eyes as you call her that name, as though it triggered something inside her that had been dormant for too long. A new hunger. She gives your cock a long lick from base to tip.

“Show me how you fuck a slut.”

You weren’t quite sure what came over you - perhaps the newfound liberty of knowing you could call Chaeyoung whatever you wanted triggered the same thing inside you as it did inside the needy, wanton young woman on her knees before you. Whatever it was, you surprised yourself with how quickly you pulled her from her knees - by her hair - and pushed her onto the side of the bed, face down, her bound arms unable to break her fall.

Her round, tight little ass in the air was too delicious to resist for much longer. You take another shot of the whisky - and by now you were a little more than half drunk - and slam it down on the nightstand before grasping the hem of Chaeyoung’s black sweatpants and ripping them from her body, finally leaving her naked and revealing the full, cute cheeks of her butt - and the glistening flesh between them.

You reach down and touch the drenched lips of her pussy, finding her dripping with need.

“Look at you, all wet and hot over a little blowjob. Swallowing my cum really got you off, didn’t it? Such a fucking slut,” you hiss, your fingertips playing lazily with her slick flesh, teasing her opening but not penetrating, watching her squirm and writhe on the bed in a vain attempt to force you to do more to her wanton body.

“Is that what makes your other girls cum? Just a finger in their pussy?”

You slide a finger inside her to the first knuckle, and when she quivers and twitches deliciously, you push deeper until you are two knuckles deep. Soon you add a second finger into her heat, enjoying the feel of her plentiful juices already gathering in your palm as you finger fuck her with slow strokes of your digits.

“You like that, don’t you? Look at you. Drenched already from a little finger fucking.”

“I want something bigger in there. Shut the fuck up and stick your cock in me already.” 

A devilish smile finds its way unto your lips as you grasp the young woman’s hips and bring your own to meet hers, your quickly hardening cock resting between the cheeks of her ass. You give her a few shallow strokes, enjoying the feel of her firm flesh on either side of your shaft as she squirms and writhes atop the bed - impatient, needy.

You reach down, placing the tip of your new rock hard cock against her slick lips, swirling the sensitive head around the entrance to her body, enjoying the feel of her heat and the slick wetness of her juices. 

“Beg for it, Chaeyoung.”

“Fuck you,” she hisses.

“I think you’re the one that’s about to be fucked.”

“Oh yeah? Then fucking do it, you pussy.”

Her constant resistance to you annoys you - angers you, even. Naked, bent over the side of the bed, arms bound behind her back, already helpless to your will; but still defiant, calling you names, challenging your every move.

You give her taut ass a firm slap, eliciting a sharp, unexpected yelp from the girl. You bend over her, grasping the back of her head once more, pulling at her hair and lifting it from the bed. As you bend over you allow your cock to press a little deeper between the wet lips of her pussy. Her flesh quivers. Her body trembles.

“Fucking beg for it, you slut.”

Chaeyoung breathes sharply from her nose, teeth still gritted, struggling to hold on to the remainder of her defiance, knowing that she was so close to getting what she desired and what her body needed.

“F-fuck you, you p-pussy.”

You pull back on her head. She yelps in unexpected but delicious pain. You penetrate her a little more, the entire head of your cock now buried into her entrance, her slick lips wrapped around it as though not wanting to let it go.

“What was that?”

A few moments pass. Moments of delicious silence. Her body quivers, betraying the needs of her body. 

“F-fuck me!”

“What was that?”

“Fuck me already! I want it. Give it to me. Fuck me like the little slut that I am. Fuck me over and over and make me your little fucktoy. Your little slut!”

A dam broken, a trigger pulled. 

You push her head back down onto the bed. You grasp her hips, plant your feet, and drive yourself into her hot, tight little pussy.

No build up, no slow and steady increase in pace or depth. From the very beginning you are fucking Son Chaeyoung with hard, stiff strokes, nailing her tight, taut little body into the bed with each entry and exit of your cock into her dripping hot pussy.

The hotel room is filled with the sounds of hot flesh slapping against hot flesh; your soft grunts of effort; and Chaeyoung’s wordless cries of pleasure, both airy sighs and some deeper moans - all combining to fill the air with an unfiltered soundtrack of sex and lust.

“F-fuck! Fuck me!” Chaeyoung gasps, finally managing to form her moans and gasps into coherent words, even if they were stifled by the fact that half her face was buried in the bed. You slap her ass in response until the cheeks grow red. Your hips move faster, pistoning in and out of her body. Her pussy responds with each penetration - growing tighter, wetter, hotter.

The pleasure in your loins and the liquor in your blood have made you drunk, yes, but added to those already potent poisons is the sense of accomplishment - of finally having broken Son Chaeyoung, of having finally achieved some measure of revenge for the way she left you unfulfilled during your last meeting. Watching her helpless body on the bed, unable to do anything but take your pistoning cock in and out of her needy pussy, intoxicated you more than the liquor ever could.

You smack her ass with an open palm, her tight little butt now red and sore, each slap eliciting a short yelp or soft gasp from the bound young woman. You relished the control and power you had over her, bending over to grasp her slim shoulders and using them as leverage to drive yourself deeper and harder into the soft wet hole between her legs. It is harsh, hard, callous, the way you are fucking her - but her loud grunts and moans indicated that she had no qualms with the way she was being treated. Quite the opposite, in fact - she loved it. Loved being fucked hard, loved being used like a mere toy.

You do your best to savor every moment, every thrust of your cock into her body. You relish the sight of her bound hands, her fingers curled just as her toes surely were, seeking some sort of outlet for the pleasure erupting from between her legs to invade every inch of her taut little body. The sounds of her moans and gasps spilling unbidden and unhindered from lips equally drunk as yours. Above all was the feel of her body - of her slim hips and tight ass beneath your clenching palms, and the silken wet sheath of her pussy as you fuck her with hard, stiff strokes.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck - I- I’m gonna fucking cum! Your slut’s gonna cum on your cock!” she gasps.

You were nearing your own breaking point. Quicker than you thought, but the tight little orgasming pussy wrapped around your cock was pushing you right to the edge. You grit your teeth as you struggle to hold on amidst the hurricane of pleasure overtaking your senses.

It takes the greatest of your efforts to hold on as she orgasms, her pussy tightening and pulsating in random patterns around your cock, the whole of her body turning into a quivering mess atop the bed, mouth frozen open in a wordless gasp, hands behind her back clutching at nothing. 

You fuck her through the entirety of her orgasm, teeth gritted, hands gripping her tiny waist and slim hips so hard you knew you’d be leaving bruises there the next day. But you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was fucking the young, tight little slut on your cock.

It takes Chaeyoung almost a minute to recover from her orgasm. The whole time you’d been drilling her into the bed. When she is finally able to, she turns her head as best she can to look at you, mouth agape, saliva dripping messily from the corner of her mouth. The very picture of a young woman lost in the throes of lust and sex. 

“Fucking cum in me,” she says, the words a desperate hiss, “fucking fill your slut with your cum!”

Another trigger. Another sudden blaze of lust and alcohol fueled anger. You reach down and grasp the back of her head, fingertips pulling hard at the hair on her scalp until she is almost standing upright in front of you. You bury your cock inside her, eliciting a yelp from her throat, before bringing your mouth next to her ear as you fill her small hole with stiff meat.

“I don’t cum inside sluts.”

Before she can react you push her down onto the bed again and resume fucking her helpless body. 

Your orgasm comes soon after. It takes every ounce of self-control in your body to pull your aching cock from the grasping lips of her pussy. Grasping your cock with your right hand, you pump it quickly, and soon your orgasm overtakes you as you cum and spurt thick, hot ropes of cum onto Chaeyoung’s raised ass and lower back, painting her pale skin with white semen.

Your world collapses as you cum, your senses refusing to work all at once as the liquor, physical exertion, and the sheer pleasure of your orgasm all combine to overload your brain. For a few moments you feel as though a heavy mist has descended over you.

Pleasure. For a few delicious moments, with your senses dulled and unable to process anything else, it was all that existed. You relish it, breathe in its sweet warmth as it worms its way throughout your body.

When you are able to open your eyes again, the sight of Chaeyoung, face down on the bed, raised ass painted with streaks of thick hot semen, is the first thing to greet your weary eyes.

“I fucking… wanted you... to cum inside me,” she manages to say, her face half buried in bedsheets and messy blonde hair.

You bend over her wet, sweaty body to bring your mouth to her ear.

“I will, soon enough. But I didn’t get what I wanted in the van, so this time you won’t, either.”

You give her ass a spank, delighting in the sight of your cum as it flowed down her still-upraised cheeks to stain the pristine white bed sheets; you looked forward to adding more filth to it in the day or so to come before the cocktail party. You slowly make your way to the washroom to clean yourself up, taking one last moment to relish in the sight of Chaeyoung’s spent, well-fucked body still sprawled on the bed, still face down, breathing heavily in an attempt to recover from the way you had used her. She makes no effort to move, much less remove the zip ties binding her arms behind her back.

You pick up the discarded package of zip ties from the floor and place it on the night stand. They’d be needed soon enough.

“For now, we’re even,” you tell her.

---

It didn’t take long for you to follow up on your promise to cum inside Chaeyoung - following a quick rest you were both right back at it, and soon, on her back with her legs on your shoulders and her wrists zip tied to the corners of the bed, you finally came inside her, filling her small, tight little body with a generous load of thick semen for the first of what was probably going to be many times.

It was still warm and dripping from her needy pussy when she pushed you into the washroom, ostensibly to clean up, but in reality because she had suddenly decided she wanted sex in the shower. Soon she was pressed against the shower wall, wrists zip tied above her to the shower head, her cute little tits pressed against the steamy, wet tile as you fucked her from behind and filled her already dripping pussy with a second load of cum. 

The girl was almost as insatiable as Nayeon - it took only the greatest of self-discipline (and the fact that your cock was now sore with exertion) to pull her hungry mouth from your cock long enough to get dressed. Even as you tossed on sweatpants and a hoodie, she tried to lick your combined juices from your sore shaft, zip ties in one hand, almost begging you to tie her up again. 

The sex and the liquor had made you both hungry, and you volunteered to go to the convenience store across the street to grab a cheap (but still delicious, as most convenience store food was in Asia) dinner. Within a few minutes you are on your way back to the hotel with a few full bags of food, liquor and sports drinks - you had a feeling you’d need a healthy amount of supplies to keep you going for the next day and a half if Chaeyoung’s appetite for sex over the past few hours was any indication.

It was by sheer coincidence that you happen to catch a glimpse of two women in the midst of a conversation inside the small coffee shop that was in the entrance hall of the hotel. While the glass to the coffee shop is tinted, you see enough to reveal to you that it is Nayeon and Sana.

You watch as they finish their conversation - Sana, appearing ever bright and friendly, offers Nayeon a warm hug which the older girl hesitantly accepts. Sana follows it up with a cheerful smile and wave goodbye before she leaves the coffee shop using a side exit - an odd choice, given that the main exit through the hotel’s entrance was closer.

You catch a glimpse of her as she leaves, noticing that the bright, friendly aura she’d had a moment prior had been replaced with a look of quiet determination.

Likewise, in the coffee shop, Nayeon’s friendly and polite exterior had similarly left her face, being replaced now with a worried look, as though she were suddenly deep in thought. It was enough to cause you to approach her.

“Hey,” you say in greeting, “I just saw Sana leave. Everything okay?”

“Just fine,” she says, her eyes giving you a head to toe scan before straying to the full bags of food and drink in your hands. “I see you’re stocking up for a day full of fun before our operation in a couple of days. Which girl is it?” she asks, a poorly-hidden streak of disdain in her voice.

It surprised you somewhat that she was able to deduce what you were up to with a mere glance at your appearance and what you were carrying. But Nayeon had always been a sharp one - observant and quick to pick up on the details - and you supposed that was what made her such a good detective.

“Doesn’t matter. Can I ask what that conversation was about? You looked pretty worried just now.”

“Don’t you have some needy young lady upstairs somewhere that you need to attend to?”

“It can wait. And this is my team, even if you’re running this particular operation. I should know what’s going on.”

Nayeon relents with a sigh, beckoning you to take the seat across from her, which you take.

“Sana wanted to meet up with me to discuss the operation - on the downlow, of course, so if it comes up, this conversation never happened. Anyway, she was wondering which of the three Japanese team members you’d be taking on-site with you to the cocktail party.”

“I was wondering that myself. Each of them seemed pretty eager to be the one that goes on-site.”

“Yeah, and I’ve been putting a lot of thought into it as well. It’s a pretty big decision. Mina was my second pick and she would have been great, what with that entire high-class princess aura she’s got going on, but JYP pulled her into a video conference call scheduled at the same time - something about a legal matter in your European offices. Whatever the reason, she’s unavailable.”

“She was the second pick? Who was your first?”

“Momo. She’s got good on-site decision making and preparation. You know she’d do her homework and be ready to act on it the day of the op. Not to mention she’s hot as fuck and she’d probably turn some heads at the party, so she could use that to her advantage to wrestle some leads from loose tongues.”

“Agreed. Sounds like you’ve made up your mind.”

“I did. Until that conversation just now with Sana.”

You feel the beginnings of concern arising in the corners of your brain. Sana had been hard-working and supportive since the resolution of the entire Choa and Jeongyeon kidnapping episode, working steadily and doing her part whenever she was called upon. And while you and the rest of the team had long since forgiven her for the betrayal she’d pulled in Taiwan involving the theft of Seolhyun’s data, you’d never forgotten what she was capable of. 

“Go on,” you say, equal parts afraid and curious of what Sana had to say to Nayeon.

“She wants to be the one to go on-site with you. Mina’s unavailable so she’s out of the running, but Sana brought up some questions about Momo - like her questionable fluency in Japanese, and how that could blow your cover. She also mentioned how she’s more focused and determined, whereas Momo tends to get frazzled and blank out sometimes mid-op when she’s faced with unexpected events; you saw how dazed she was immediately after the shooting in Seoul.”

You think back to the events in Red Velvet’s apartment, and it was true - the gunshots had dazed everyone, but Momo especially. She was in a dazed stupor that you had to physically shake her out of.

“And this is just me speaking,” Nayeon continues, “but I think Sana looks a little more approachable. She can be hot and cute, depending on the circumstances. That might open up more opportunities to approach men with different tastes.”

You take a moment to digest Nayeon’s words, and how they confirmed your suspicions - that Sana was undermining Momo again behind the older girl’s back. The drama she’d stirred up in Hawaii regarding her feelings for you hadn’t long left your mind, and you wondered how much it played into her desire to ensure that she, not Momo, would be the one to spend some intimate, private time with you during the operation.

“And what do you think, Nayeon?” you ask, curious to see if Sana’s charms had worked on the detective.

“Firstly I see right through that little ‘I’m the cutest most friendliest girl in the whole world’ schtick she’s got going on. I know she’s smarter than she lets on… but she brings up good points. I was pretty set on Momo, but after that conversation, I’m not so sure.”

Nayeon looks towards the coffee shop exit Sana used to leave the hotel, her brow furrowed in deep thought.

“I’m going to be honest,” she continues, “I think either of them would be a good pick. What about you? Who would you rather bring with you?”

You take a moment to consider the situation. It was clear Sana had ulterior motives behind her desire to go on the operation, even if she did bring up good points regarding how useful she could be in comparison to Momo. You’d been putting it off for awhile, but perhaps it was time to set the record straight with Sana regarding her feelings for you and how they were affecting the team. If you set her straight before the operation and asked her to put aside her feelings for you for now, the operation itself would be a good way to test her dedication to her promise.

The fact that Sana had gone out of her way to approach Nayeon and argue her case for selection also raised your suspicions - the fact that she did so secretly, without going through you, only raised them further. She’d been hard-working and diligent in her duties, but until now she’d only been assigned or selected for those duties by you or someone else on the team. She’d never volunteered for an operation. Surely her desire to undermine your relationship with Momo played some part in her actions, but you were curious if she had any further motives to be on-site beyond that.

There was only one way to be sure. You stand and gather the bags at your feet before giving Nayeon your decision.

“Tell Sana she’s the one going on the op.”

---

Author’s Note: And that’s (probably) the last chapter for the year! There will be a separate thank-you post to wrap up the year as it’s been a big one for me and my work. 

Until then I hope everyone’s safe and enjoying the holidays. Best wishes to you and all your loved ones :)

[jediofbooksandsnacks]

Do you think Urobuchi could be the writer of this new "Providence" movie? It doesn't appear to directly continue the season 3 plot, so maybe? I'm just- so hopeful I guess? Maybe just blind? Could Urobuchi even save what this franchise has become?

Wow, dude. You slid in and asked me 5 different questions while wearing an Anonymous suit. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt that you’re not trying to stir up the PP pot and answer you as honestly as I can.

Google tells me that after S1, the Movie, and the light novel / game Mandatory Happiness (which is amazing and you should go play it), Urobuchi became a supervisor. Unless this is his triumphant return—and that would have been part of the update, yes?—he has passed the PP torch, and he doesn’t seem overly interested in returning.

As for what Providence is about, all we can do is speculate. The poster does feature Arata’s dad, so maybe we will finally learn what sent Akane to jail, yes? Maybe? Or maybe it’s all just a massive bait-and-switch to the fans? Who knows? Not me, not until I see it. So: wait and see, compadre, wait and see.

And, look, on the hopeful and the blind point--sometimes in the dead of night I wish with all my heart that Urobuchi will come back and save us from the long, dull rants about the housing pandemic that have sadly taken over the writing. In the hands of a sharp writer, I would have been all in on those interest rates, you know?, but it was not written well. So, we can’t hit like and reblog to cast our way out of dull writing; it is what it is. And the characters (with one exception) are actually pretty good. Also, there is always the danger that the return of Urobutcher will ultimately kill our darlings, which, again, is fine if it is done with some foresight and planning. A thoughtful, bittersweet ending for any of them is better than a dumb, thoughtless ending where someone needed to die, and welp, I guess this person’s number is up. Which is . . . ugh, don’t get me started.

This comes down to the intersection between the character writing (pretty good!) and the plot (*inset sad saxophone noise here*). Urobuchi was a guiding hand, and the series seems a little lost without his sharp influence. The plot of S1 blew our collective minds. S2 was made without him and . . . yeah, even with my sad boy Hinakawa, not so much. Plot of the Movie, which he also wrote? Hell fucking yeah! Even Sinners of the System is collectively pretty good. But S3? First Inspector? Yikes, yikes, yikes. The characters were great, but I was more invested in the Pillbug Standoff than I was in the story itself. And that, among many other things, should definitely tell you something.

Now, of course my thoughts on the series and its writing are different from others, my friend. Each of us is just playing with the cool cyberpunk characters, and each of us does it entirely, totally differently from anyone else. What can be cooler than that?  

So, to sum up: since Urobuchi left, the character writing is good and the plot writing is meh. But, hey, you’re asking your question to a Shinkane blog on Tumblr dot com who writes like, a ton of fanfic about them. The clown potluck where we discuss our blorbos is scheduled for tonight, amigo. Bring something salty.

Meep meep.

[caffeinatedgoddess]

I thought I'd try this writing thing again. It helped me to sort my thoughts during some of the most difficult times in my life, so why not now?

Life isn't necessarily difficult right now. Just chaotic. You would think as an eclectic chaos witch I'd appreciate that. Meh. It's overrated.

Seriously though, late October is when things started on this really strange path. I had taken a higher position within the company I work for, knowing that my husband was going to be accepting a job offer over halfway across the country (in all honesty, it took my company over a month to make the transition with my position....no one accused them of moving quickly). We were moving.... then we weren't (the cross-country job fell through right before my end date with the company). At that same time, a co- worker was seriously injured, and I transitioned immediately into her position since mine had already been filled. Flying by the seat of my pants became a way of life since nobody else knew her job. During this time, we were going to make a move into my mother's basement apartment (at her request) to help her take care of the house and her health.... then we weren't (that's really quite a bit to unpack at a later date). Throw in there that I was supposed to be getting a promotion to plant supervisor.... then I wasn't (some corporate senority BS pertaining to another employee). Now, two and a half months later, my injured co-worer is returning, and my husband is waiting on another offer letter that will have us relocating to NOLA.

It goes without saying that since October, I've been a bit derailed from my practice. ALL of this happened in the last two months! I feel so disconnected from Spirit. I hardly notice my clairs anymore. The last time I performed a ritual? I couldn't tell you. I haven't picked up a tarot or oracle deck in over a month. I still get small communications from my ancestors (songs and smells and phrases that pop up and let me know they are there (I love them so much for that).

This move to NOLA, a place known for its rich history in witchcraft, will be so very welcome. I'm taking some time off from working to find and grow my path again. I decided that I'm going to re-dedicate myself to my path on the full moon on Monday. What better time for a re-dedication ritual?

Anyway, I'm here to just share the day-to-day thoughts and mutterings of a modern witch finding her way through the controlled chaos of life (this past got a lot more wordy and chaotic than I planned.... very in keeping with my life right now). Feel free to follow.... or just scroll on by. Because ultimately, this is for me and my healing. You're just invited along for the ride!

[streamacademe]

Week 176, Day 1228.

A late post this week as it was MY BIRTHDAY YESTERDAY!! Although I didn’t take the day off, I did eliminate anything moderately non-essential on my to-do list for the day, which included writing anything non-thesis related. 🎉

Irrespective of it being a lockdown birthday, I had the best day. Aside from all the messages of love, and extremely thoughtful gifts, my other half also picked up Zizzis takeaway pizza for us and bought me my favourite ‘Rory the Lion’ cake. And yes, I am aware that this is not a typical choice for someone in their late 20′s, but I also do not care. 💛🦁

Photo: My all time favourite cake. Source: Phone camera - HUJI app.

One of the most meaningful gifts I received was a mug with my first journal paper printed on it. The friend that this was from is currently 24 days away from her official thesis deadline and yet found the time to do something so considerate. Respectfully, I christened the mug with an honourable drink of Bailey’s hot chocolate. ☕

Photo: My journal paper mug being used as a vessel for Bailey’s hot chocolate. Source: Phone camera - HUJI app.

The week leading up to my birthday, however, was a little meh. Although my supervisors didn’t hate my analysis technique or the report that I mentioned last week, and gave me good feedback, I must’ve worked on it too much and at around 10 pm on Saturday hit a wall with it and burst into tears. 😂 So I decided to park it until my next supervisory meeting, which was yesterday. I was honest with them about hitting a wall and having a meltdown and, honestly, they were really helpful and made me feel both back on track and more confident in my abilities, which was probably one of the best birthday gifts I could’ve asked for right now. 

I also had a bit of an emotional trigger from someone who I cut ties with back in 2019. I needed him to be either in or out of my life and he couldn’t choose, so I made the decision for us. However, he briefly reappeared the other day and it kinda messed me up for a few days because I really miss him and have had to work really hard to keep a distance. There’s a lot of unprocessed hurt still, linked to his actions, which I can’t resolve without answers that I doubt I’ll ever get, so I’ve been shutting it away instead. Hey ho, such is life. Mentioning it on here because there is no shame in feeling a strong way about something or someone. Let it be known that pretending like you don’t will only make things worse and is exactly how him and I ended up in this position in the first place. Own your feelings. 💔

Anywhom, the positives from the last week definitely outweigh the negatives, and now that my brain feels more awake (partly fuelled by cake), I better go get on with the million things I still have to do today. 💡 Ciao!

Photo: Final year PhD mood. Source: Google. 

[londonfog-chan]

Abbacchi x Reader: Sudoh Buck AU

The coffee shop Abbacchio THIRST everyone keeps losing their collective shit over on AO3 and admittedly the chapter where I decided I was one thirsty ass bitch. All characters aged up.

...

"Ok, fucking Darth Vader over here, whoever has their headset on turn it the fuck off! Sounds like you're doing something gross!"

Darth Vader is an understatement. Whenever someone leaves their headset on and does any task, your ears are assaulted with what sounds like some mouth breather huffing directly into your ear canal.

Not even two shifts into Passione and you're already showing your coworkers that you have the capacity to look innocent, but have the mouth of a sailor. In a fitting turn of events you've been put on customer support, free to fuck off wherever you wish and cuss all you want on the headset. No one at your store appreciates your humor, in fact any time you make a joke they conveniently pretend they don't hear you or they grimace until the situation becomes awkward and you have to shut your mouth before you make an even bigger ass of yourself. Here at this location, the boys eat it up with a spoon. They can't get enough of your jokes, encouraging you whenever they force a headset on your head the minute you clock in. Even the new girl Trish, a pretty thing with dyed pink hair and a smile that goes for miles, joins in on the never ending train of dirty jokes, profanities, and general riff raff that makes Bruno bitch at everyone involved like a single mother.

But at the moment, the breathing most certainly does not belong to Bruno. Usually he's the one who always casually reminds people when they leave their headsets on.

"Mista!" you growl, "Turn it off or breathe less!"

"It's not me." he insists, the beep of the warming oven being cut off as he mutes himself.

"Narancia, I love you but I don't need to hear what it's like for you to get laid!"

"Negative babe~... I'm on drive bar." Narancia replies.

"Trish?"

"Not me hunty." she answers, and the sound of the wind in her headset confirms this.

"Fugo, I swear to fuck-..."

"It's me. Fugo doesn't have a headset."

Immediately you press on the sprayer head a little too hard and the back splash soaks the entire front of your apron and your uniform shirt. The voice you're greeted with on the headset is totally foreign, and unmistakably sexy. A low hum, almost like Bruno's baritone, and much like the rest of the crew you've come to love it's colored with the slightest hue of an accent that makes your knees start to knock together. Admittedly you're bad with voices and just as worse with names. You can't put a face to this voice no matter how hard you try, and it's no wonder considering that out of all the stores in the district, Passione has more employees than any of them, including H. Green and S. Platinum locations which are always overstaffed because of the sheer amount of business compared to the meager crowds you get at Ogre Street.

But... With that voice... if you were a customer you'd fucking live at that drive thru just to hear him read back your order to you.

"Woah..." you're nearly moaning the words "I'm wet in more ways than one, who the fuck is this?"

"It's Leone." he replies, voice low and sultry, "Sorry about that, I was eating a bagel."

Leone... who the fuck is Leone? Surely he has to be one of the other baristas whose names you never bothered to learn... doesn't really matter to you when you have constant attention of the store's man candy. But suddenly this is a whole new person with the sexiest voice you've ever heard giving you attention like everyone else. For very obvious reasons, this piques your interest.

"I don't recognize your voice." you said, putting down the whisk you were rinsing. "What's your last name?"

"Abbacchio." he responds. "We haven't met face to face yet, but I've seen you before. You're the beanie from Ogre Street right? It's nice to finally talk to you. I think you're really pretty."

... Oh sweet baby Jesus why aren't you taking the wheel yet!?

"Aww, and aren't you just a sweetheart?" you murmur, leaning over the sink as your voice drops to a near whisper. "Wait... Aren't you the one with the pretty handwriting in the book?"

His chuckle makes you honest to god swoon, and even Bruno peeks his head in to check on you when you make that kind of a noise.

"Yes, that's me." he confirms. "And you're the one with the great customer service. I haven't gotten a chance to talk to you, but I've been listening for a while. I really like your attitude. You're much more fun than your coworkers."

“Really?" you ask, taking up more dirty dishes, "Big shocker there, I'm surprised no one at this store is drooling over Ogre Street's heartthrob one miss Kimmy."

"Meh. I think the consensus is that you're the favorite barista out of everyone from your store if we're being honest."

That's Narancia, and even Abbacchio agrees with the rest of the crew. They all start complimenting you, how you never ask stupid questions, you try to help out any way you can. They honestly can't go two minutes without berating the other coworkers. It's all things you'd normally do to try and be helpful, but you're not sure exactly why it's so endearing to all of them. You're just another barista? It's never mattered to anyone this much before. Especially when you always come home in tears at your other location. It must be that you're not used to receiving compliments in such abundance.

"Agreed." reaffirms Abbacchio. "You're really agreeable, and I like your jokes. Your laugh is really sexy."

"Well aren't you a flatterer." you smile, putting the dishes to soak in the sani solution before throwing them for another go in the dish washer. "But I like having my ego stroked. Tell me more about how I'm wonderful, Abbacchio."

You can tell he's about to reply, until you hear the mournful "ding" from the drive thru sensors indicate that someone wants to order. You hear him tell you "hold that thought" before he turns his charms the customer.

"Hello there..." he purrs into the headset, "Welcome to Sudoh Buck, what can I get started for you today?"

The customer murmurs an "oh wow" before she remembers why she came here in the first place.

"Um yes hi can I please get a..."

It doesn't take much for you to zone out and return to your task. As soon as you finish up this set of dishes, you'll be able to take your last ten before you go home for the day. Customer Support is one of those coveted positions because you have little to no interactions with customers at a busy store. Bruno sets you to work with a task list, you work to the limit on the timer on your apron. Whenever it goes off, you have to drop what you're doing and come back to front to brew coffee. If anyone needs anything, like if Mista runs out of warming bags or Narancia needs more cups or milk, all they have to do is press the button on the headset and set you forth to do their bidding. Admittedly, you don't find yourself going straight home anymore. Even your brother, stoic and nonchalant, makes comments about it whenever you come home an hour or two later than the time you're supposed to. Mom, well, she's a worrier, and thinks you're getting up to no good shenanigans. But let's be real, when you live in the house you live in any trysts with potential suitors goes out the window. Your brother is in college and his schedule is unpredictable, and your mom is a homemaker.

The minute Abbacchio tells the flustered woman to pull up to the window, he returns to shower you with compliments over the headset, calling you the prettiest thing he's ever seen to put on an apron, how cute your angry face looks when you're totally focused on bar, even busting out some cutesy nicknames that make you squirm as you try to finish up your dishes. Strangely enough, everyone else is silent on the headset, letting you and Abbacchio get acquainted with one another to your heart's content, the lull in the conversation only happening when a customer pulls up. Eventually, like all good things, the compliments come to an end and the conversation turns to other topics.

"So you said you live with your mom?" Abbacchio asks after taking an order of five different fraps. You can hear Narancia cussing softly as he has to make each individual drink.

"Yeah, my mom and my big brother." you affirm. "It's the most I can afford in this town. Everything's so goddamn expensive, I couldn't even afford to make the first and last month's rent on the cheapest place in town, and my brother can't move in with me yet since he's doing school full time. But enough about me, what about you?"

"Mm? What about me?" he asks, flirt evident in his voice.

"Which country do I have to thank for that blessed ass accent you have?"

"That's Italy." he laughs. "I've been with the company for over six years, I started out at the reserve roastery in Milan and came here when Buccellati offered me a job. I came on a work visa, and now you can't get rid of me. I'm one of your shift supervisors."

"Well, temp supervisor anyway." you respond rather sadly. "It's too bad this store hadn't been opened before I got hired. Otherwise I would have loved to start here."

"I still think you should transfer." interjects Trish. "No one likes Ogre Street anyways."

"I... I'd have to think about it."

"What's there to think about anyway?" Abbacchio asks, and you stop scrubbing the chocolate pump for a minute. "If you transfer here, I'd get to talk to you every single day. Tips are shit but you can move up if you'd like."

"And the best part is if you transfer here, we can see your huge ass every time you bend over." Mista chimes in.

"MISTA! WE ARE AT WORK!" Bruno sounds exasperated over the headset.

"Oh yeah, my bad boss. I mean to say we can see your venti ass every time you bend over."

Everyone loses their shit for a minute to laugh as Bruno begins to berate the very bad and naughty warming man off headset. Before he mutes, you can hear him threaten disciplinary action, and you can't stop howling in the back. Nearly falling over just thinking about it.

"So how about it cuteness?" Abbacchio asks, and his voice is so warm and inviting you can't help but smile. "Think it's worth us stealing you away to stay here?"

"Yeah... I dunno. Like I said, I'd have to think about it. Besides, I think working here would just give my mommy an excuse to show up more often..."

A shrill sound assaults your ears, the timer, and you sigh.

"Now the age old question..." you wonder aloud, "What the fuck did I brew last?"

"I know we've been selling a lot of medium and dark." Abbacchio replies. "And it's already ten thirty, just cut the blonde and do full batches. Narancia can do pour overs."

"Ah yes," you can hear the mischief in Narancia's voice. "My special americano pour overs."

"You know Narancia, one of these days corporate is gonna walk in and see all the shit you do and your ass is going to get canned." you respond, laughing as you wash your hands in the employee sink before going back out to front.

"Fuck it." he laughs. "It won't bother me none, Buccellati can take care of me with all that Mama Daddy money he's got."

"Oh hey, cara mia, when you come up to front, come to drive. I've got something for you."

That was Abbacchio, and for a hot minute you're almost nervous, like a first date, at the prospect of seeing him face to face.

"Oh yeah? And what would that be?"

"Well," you hear the rustle of the bag, "It's cat shaped, and really cute, like a certain barista I know..."

"OOOOOOOOH DADDY!" you squeal. "You've just made me the happiest girl on earth!"

He's found your weakness. The quickest way for any man to get to your heart is to dangle some motherfucking food in your face, no lie. Even your brother has commented on more than one occasion that if anyone wanted to take you all they had to do was dangle a fucking cupcake in your face and you were toast. And it doesn't help that you called your mom squealing about the cute little kitty shaped cake pops they had out for the season.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Come and get this and we can meet in person."

Ever the one to be lured in with the prospect of free food, you run your ass to the front, nearly bowling over Mista as you skid to a halt at the nook where the drive thru window is located. To your ever lasting shock, you come face to face with the last person you'd ever expect to be flirting with you so boldly.

"Holy shit..." you breathe. "Abbacchio?"

It's the dude who gang faced you the first day you came in, and ironically the one who got fed up with your friend's bar time. Silver hair pulled into a pony tail, glistening purple lips, snatched makeup that's too perfect for a barista... All put together in a black apron. His glare never leaves his face, but maybe... Just maybe, he's like your brother and just has a very bad case of resting bitch face. Because you get a little hopeful when he sees you and his lipstick mouth smiles, beckoning you over with a warming bag in his hand. When Abbacchio reaches in, he pulls out the very treat you've been craving all day since you've seen it. This is the best part of the job. Sometimes some customers forget they get food and never come back, and it just sits there for hours until someone has to throw it away, or they'll change their mind last minute about the food, or worse yet someone on warming (Mista) will fuck up an order and get the wrong sandwich. If it's a sandwich, nine times out of ten you have to toss it, but if it's a sweet treat it's usually fair game for anyone to enjoy since it will just go in the trash. You love to have the mistake foods, sometimes you'll take them to your brother at the college, or more often than not you'll take them home to share with your mother. She loves sweets, and working for a coffee chain she normally can't afford to frequent is such a rare treat that you love to spoil her.

"Oh my god!" you coo, "Is that a kitty cat cake poop just for me??"

"Just for you." he chuckles. "Why do you call it that anyway?"

"I dunno. For some reason the feral part of my brain activates whenever I see words and I just like to play around with them and mutter weird things to myself. I tried telling it to my SM at Ogre Street and he told me I better not call it that, otherwise I might slip and call it a cock pop or something."

He can't help the smile that spreads over his face, and he suddenly gets a very naughty glint in his eye as he twirls the cake pop in your direction.

"So?" he asks. "You made such a big to do about being friendly on the headset. Be a good girl and take a bite of the treat I worked so hard to get for you. Come on, take a big nom nom out of this cock pop~."

You hope and pray that by some stroke of bad luck that no one you know outside of work just heard that. Not one to be shown up when it comes to flirting, you don't miss a beat as you step forward. With a look in your face that would make your mother faint if she knew how filthy you were being, you waste no time in licking a stripe slowly up the cake pop before taking a fat ass bite out of the head. Abbacchio's grin could split his entire face in half, and even more so when you use your teeth to pull the pop stick out of his hand.

"Hey... hunty, question?" it's Trish interrupting the positively predatory stares you and Abbacchio are giving each other. She's been listening in this whole time.

"Yes Trisha my love?" you respond, not taking your eyes off Abbacchio.

"Just one question... Can you eat pussy like that?"

A cacophony of screams and your screech of "NASTY WOMAN" makes Trish lose her shit outside, and Bruno swears up and down from the back office that he's going to write up the next person who says something filthy over headset during his shifts.