#this has easily been the longest two days of my entire life

[trashbaget]

*

[flowersforbucky]

all's well that ends well to end up with you

bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky isn't going to let an extended mission, a severe thunderstorm, and a delayed flight ruin your first valentine's day together.

word count: 3.8k

warnings/tags: SMUT, 18+ only mdni, oral (m&f receiving), fingering, nipple play, reader is afab, established relationship, no use of y/n, reader is described as being shorter than bucky, fluffy as hell, sweet domesticity

wrote this for my bb @embbarnes 💕 happy (very early) valentine's day, everyone!

Of all the ways you had been hoping to spend the last few hours of Valentine’s Day, over 30,000 feet in the air next to a snoring man who has never heard of deodorant was at the bottom of your list.

You should have seen it coming from the moment that your two day mission was extended to a three day mission, but you naively held out hope that you’d be able to make it back home in time to salvage the second half of the day.

Getting back early enough to keep the seven o’clock dinner reservations that you’d made for a new, upscale steakhouse in Brooklyn would have been possible if a last minute thunderstorm hadn’t delayed your flight back to New York.

Now it’s already half past seven, and you’ll be lucky if you make it back home before midnight.

Truthfully, you don’t care about the dinner reservations. Sure, you’d heard great things about the food and you had been excited to go, but you could easily reschedule the reservations for another time. The only thing that you were truly bummed about was not getting to spend the day with Bucky.

Today is your first Valentine’s Day as a couple, and instead of spending it with him, you’re spending it on a commercial flight with dozens of strangers. You can’t help but wonder how many of them are missing their significant other, too.

If you’d had it your way, you would have woken up to his face this morning. The two of you would have slept in as late as you desired, and had a slow, lazy morning before cooking him brunch. Waffles, sausage and bacon, scrambled eggs with extra cheese and hot sauce – all of his favorites. You would have taken a stroll through the park before stopping at the bakery that you frequent for doughnuts and coffee, and maybe visited the botanical gardens before your dinner reservations this evening.

Bucky had assured you that it wasn’t a big deal and that the two of you would make up for it when you were back home. He patiently reminded you that life doesn’t take holidays and special occasions into consideration when dishing out things such as extended work trips and inclement weather conditions.

Valentine’s Day aside, you simply miss him. You’ve been missing him since the moment you left for Nebraska, and you’re more than ready to be back in his arms. This is not the first time you’ve been apart due to work related trips, but this is by far the longest – a whopping seven days.

You miss the way he wants to keep at least one hand on you throughout the night, the way he talks to Alpine as if she will actually respond, and the way that he hums without even noticing that he’s doing it. All of the seemingly little things that you don’t think much of on a day to day basis, but when you’re apart, make you miss him all the more.

By the time your flight lands in New York and you catch an Uber back to your apartment, it’s nearly eleven o’clock. Bucky, of course, had offered to pick you up from the airport, but you had insisted that you were okay with getting an Uber, not wanting him to get out so late at night in the heavy rain.

Plus, if he had picked you up, it would have ruined your plan to surprise him by stopping by his favorite pizza parlor down the block from your apartment on your way home. Sal’s Pizzeria is always open until midnight, and every year they run specials the entire week of Valentine’s Day on heart-shaped pizzas.

Knowing Bucky, he’s likely been living off of instant Ramen since you left for your trip, so you figure he’ll be ecstatic over a late night pizza. Not to mention, you’re famished yourself – all you’ve eaten since lunch being the pack of Biscoff cookies you’d been given on the plane.

Lugging your suitcase, a backpack, and the large pizza box, you fumble with your keys before unlocking the door and stepping inside.

At first, you assume that Bucky is already asleep. But as you walk down the short hallway, you realize there’s soft music playing from somewhere in the apartment. You don't think much of it, since you know that Bucky prefers playing music as opposed to the television for background noise.

It’s almost completely dark, minus low orange lighting that trickles into the hallway from the kitchen.

“I’m home, baby,” you call softly as you approach the kitchen’s entryway. “I know it’s late, but I brought you some pizza, if you're hun—”

You stop dead in your tracks when you step into the kitchen. Dozens of tea light candles illuminate the room, placed strategically on the island in the middle of the room. And on the countertops, and the shelves – basically any flat surface twinkles with the delicate flames.

You stand frozen as a statue with your mouth agape as you take in the scene before you. In addition to the candles, there’s a spread of food across the island. Plates of delicious smelling pasta, small bowls of soup and glasses of red wine. Tied to the backs of the barstools are red and pink heart-shaped balloons.

It looks straight out of a romance movie.

“Pizza pairs well with pasta, I think,” Bucky's voice breaks you out of your trance. “Can never have too many carbs.”

Your gaze snaps over to where he emerges from the den. He wears a bashful smile, and even in the low glow of the candlelight, you can see the faint hint of blush blooming across the apples of his cheeks. He has his hands behind his back, as if trying to conceal something from you.

“You did all of this?” You ask lamely. Your voice is barely a whisper and contains a noticeable quiver. “For me?”

You can’t wrap your brain around it. No one has ever done anything quite like this for you. All of your ex boyfriends always shrugged off Valentine’s Day, leaving you feeling lucky if you got so much as a card. You’d long ago learned not to expect much of anything. Definitely not anything as intimate and thoughtful as this.

“Of course for you,” he murmurs with a low chuckle. He saunters over to where you’re still standing with the pizza box clutched in your hands, and pulls what appears to be a bouquet of flowers in a large mason jar out from behind his back.

“Who else would it be for? Alpine?” He teases, extending the jar to you. You plop the box onto the counter so that your hands are free to accept the flowers.

Upon closer inspection, you realize the bouquet of flowers are not real flowers.

Well, yes and no – they’re wildflowers, made of out Legos. You can’t help but giggle, remembering how you had mentioned how cute you think the Lego set is when you saw it while buying some groceries at Target a few weeks ago. You giggle even harder when you picture Bucky assembling all of the tiny pieces of the bouquet with his large, vibranium fingers.

Your eyes begin to well with tears that threaten to spill over. You quickly blink them back, not wanting to show just how emotional the ornate, colorful arrangement of plastic flowers is making you.

Not just the bouquet – all of it. The food and the wine, the balloons, the candles, the forties music playing lowly from the record player in the living room – the sheer amount of time and attention that he put into creating such a romantic display, and all from the comfort of your home.

“They’re perfect,” you murmur, wiping away a stray tear with sleeve of your sweater. You place the mason jar of the plastic flowers in the midst of the spread of food in front of you, making the scene complete.

“It’s all perfect.” He opens his arms to you, and you happily melt into his embrace. He smells of his familiar earthy cologne, and you can’t help but inhale deeply, relishing in the comfort of his scent and warmth.

Even if you’d come home to him passed out in bed, you would’ve been ecstatic to just crawl under the covers beside him. All of this is more than you ever would have hoped for.

“All I got you is a lousy heart-shaped meat lovers pizza,” you sniffle against his t-shirt and you feel his chest vibrate with laughter. You know that you have the reasonable excuse of being on an assignment in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere Nebraska for the last week, but you still feel bad.

“Hey,” he murmurs, using his index finger to tilt your face to look up at him. He grins down at you for a moment before tenderly pressing his lips against yours. You melt into him right away, having missed the feeling of his lips on yours in the week that you’ve been apart.

His hands travel to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. Your own hands cradle his face, your thumbs caressing the light dusting of stubble that adorns his cheeks. You can already feel the outline of an erection forming through the thin material of his pajama pants when he pulls away, much to your disappointment.

“I love meat lovers pizza,” he assures you with a smirk. “And I love you. The best present you could give me is coming home to me.”

“Still. I’m going to make it up to you,” you promise with a feather light kiss to his lips. “I promise. First thing tomorrow, I’m going to—”

You’re cut off by a low rumbling noise that sounds from between your bodies – a reminder that you haven’t eaten a substantial meal in twelve hours now. You glance over to the plates of food on the island beside you, inhaling the delicious aroma of the dishes.

“I made an educated guess that you’d be hungry,” Bucky chuckles. He reluctantly drops his hold on your waist and moves to pull the barstool out for you. You hop up, taking your seat in front of a heaping plate of pasta and a bowl of French onion soup. Your stomach growls again at the sight.

“Did you make all of this?” You ask, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. It’s not that Bucky is a bad cook – he has a few go-to meals that are always excellent, but he normally doesn’t stray too far out of his comfort zone.

“I did not,” he admits with a sigh. He takes a seat directly across from you. “I ordered takeout from the bistro down the street before they closed earlier. Heated it all back up when you texted me that you were almost home.”

“Well, it’s fucking delicious,” you mumble through a mouthful of the creamy pasta.

You eat together in the glow of the candlelight, with soft music playing in the background and heavy rain beating down against the windows of your apartment. You talk about everything from the details of your mission to what he did while you were away. The food is delicious, the wine he picked out pairs perfectly, it’s cozy and peaceful and romantic – and you realize that you’re enjoying this so much more than you ever would have enjoyed an upscale steakhouse in downtown Brooklyn.

You both end up being too full of pasta and soup to eat any of the pizza that you’d brought home, but you’re happy that you’ve got a whole pizza to look forward to having for lunch tomorrow.

“Thank you, baby,” you tell him after swallowing the last sip of your wine. “For all of this. It was more than I could’ve hoped for today.”

He reaches across the counter, grabbing your hand in his own and bringing it to his lips. “Of course,” he murmurs against your skin, eliciting goosebumps down your arm. “As much as I wish we could’ve spent the day together, I still wanted to make the last hour of it as special as possible.”

He stands, releasing your hand as he begins to collect the empty plates and glasses. “You go on and get ready for bed, yeah? I’ll clean up in here.”

“Nonsense. It's almost midnight. These dishes can wait until the morning. Just stick them in the sink and come shower with me.”

You don’t even care if the whole apartment still smells of garlic and French onion soup in the morning – you’ve been showering and sleeping without him for the last week, and it’s still technically Valentine’s Day, so you’ll allow the dirty dishes to sit for the next eight hours.

To your pleasant surprise, he needs no further convincing. He piles the dirty dishes into the kitchen sink and puts the uneaten pizza in the fridge while you get the shower water up to temperature. By the time his pajamas fall to the bathroom floor, you’re already standing under the hot stream of water.

He opens the shower door, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as soon as his eyes trail up and down your body. The way he looks at you never fails to make you feel like he’s seeing you naked for the very first time, every time.

His hands immediately come to rest on your hips, easing you back against the cool tiling of the shower wall. “God, I missed you,” he sighs as he massages his fingers into the meat of your hips. The contrast of his warm flesh hand and cold vibranium hand on your waist has you arching into his touch.

“I can tell,” you giggle, pulling his face down to yours by the back of his neck. His mouth slates over yours, his tongue sweeping along your bottom lip. You part your lips for him right away, more than ready to feel and taste him after all of your time away.

He nudges your legs apart with his knee, inserting one of his large thighs in-between your own. You sink your bare pussy onto the expanse of his muscular thigh, dragging your center across him for friction. He kisses you until you’re breathless, and only pulls away to instead latch his mouth over one of your nipples. He rolls it between his lips and tongue, using his hold on your waist to help move you up and down his thigh. He alternates between each nipple, kissing and sucking on each until they’re pert and pebbled.

His erection gains your attention as it juts against your belly. You reach between your bodies, taking his length in your hand and stroking him with ease, the water from the shower making his skin slick.

You whimper above him, desperate for some release. He laughs, peppering kisses across your breasts and up your neck. You feel him smiling into the column of your throat.

“I think you missed me, too,” he murmurs against your pulse point.

“Maybe,” you admit, your voice etched with impatience. “Why don’t we hurry and get out this shower so I can show you just how much I missed you?”

He presses a final kiss to the side of your neck before pulling away and smirking down at you. He reaches over to one of the shelves in the shower, grabbing a loofah and your bottle of body wash.

“I’ll have you know that I showered before you got home,” he says as he squirts a dollop of the gel onto the sponge. “I’m just here for your entertainment – and your convenience, of course. Now turn around.”

You do as he says, turning around to face the shower wall. You brace yourself against the tiles with your forearms, relaxing as he begins to massage the soap across the tops of your shoulders and down your back.

He takes his time, lazily rubbing the skin of the backs of your thighs before reaching around and doing the same to your stomach and chest. As good as it feels, all you can focus on is the head of his cock nudging against the curve of your ass.

“Bucky.”

The word comes out somewhere between a moan and a warning – a warning that if he doesn’t finish lathering your body in the next two seconds so you can rinse the fuck off, you’re going to take matters into your own hands.

“What is it, baby?” he asks innocently, stepping forward ever so slightly so that his cock inches between the space where your thighs meet your ass.

You turn back to face him, grabbing the loofah out of his hand and tossing it to the opposite end of the shower. The stream of water that beats down against your bodies washes the suds down the drain.

“You’re really going to tease me like that? On Valentine’s Day, of all days?”

“Pretty sure it’s after midnight now,” he quips with a smirk.

You turn so that you’re out of the direct line of the water, and lower yourself to the shower floor. His cock bobs inches in front of your face. You grasp him in your hand, languidly stroking his length as you stare up at him.

“Then I guess you’re lucky that I missed you so much.”

He opens his mouth to retort, but snaps it shut with a sharp intake of breath when you wrap your lips around his tip. You swirl your tongue around him, lapping up the beads of pearlescent white that had gathered around his slit. You begin to bob your head, taking more and more of him into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat.

Above you, he throws his head back and hisses at the sensation. His metal hand cradles the back of your head, guiding your movements. You gag at the overwhelming fullness, pulling away from him for air. You ease him back into your mouth, setting a steady pace. He rocks his hips forward, meeting your movements with his own.

In one hand, you cup his balls, gently massaging the sack. With your free hand, you attempt to relieve the growing ache between your own thighs by rubbing quick circles over your clit. The thrusts of his hips start to grow erratic, and you feel him twitch against your tongue when he suddenly pulls away from you.

“Not gonna cum in your mouth,” he answers when he looks down to see your questioning stare. “Not tonight. Missed you too much.”

He pulls you up by the tops of your arms and eases you back against the shower wall once more. He then takes your place on the floor, kneeling in front of you. He trails kisses along the wet skin of your thighs as he hooks one over his shoulder. He wastes no more time, diving into your pussy. His tongue swirls over your clit as he brings one long, metal finger to tease your hole. He nudges it inside as his lips suction around the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of your folds.

Your body goes relaxed, your back sliding down the wet tiling of the shower wall. Bucky helps support you from down below as he sinks his vibranium digit deeper inside you.

The coil in your lower belly tightens quickly, pent up from a whole week without his touch. He can always tell when you’re close by the little noises that you make and the way that you tug on the short brown locks of his hair with your fingers.

He groans as he licks a thick strip up your slit, sending you over the edge. Your orgasm washes over you, your cunt clenching around his thick vibranium finger as he sucks your clit until you go still above him.

It's then that it hits you that the water from the shower has started to run cold.

“Come on,” Bucky says, rising as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He turns the faucet off and grabs the two towels that hang over the glass wall of the shower, handing you one before wrapping his around his waist. “Let's get out of here. I’ve got one more gift to give you before we continue this.”

“Another gift? You’ve already done so much. I didn’t even get—”

He gently shushes you with a sly grin, exiting the shower before you can protest any further. You pat your skin dry before securing the towel around your chest and then follow him into your shared bedroom.

Alpine is snoring softly at the foot of your king sized bed, completely oblivious to the fact that you’re even home. Everything is exactly as you left it, from the stack of half finished books on your nightstand to the orange Himalayan salt rock lamp that hasn’t been turned off a single time since the two of you moved into the apartment together. The comfort and familiarity of everything makes you feel all the more grateful to be back home.

You grab a bottle of lotion off of your bedside table and begin lathering it onto the skin of your legs as you watch Bucky rummage through the drawer of his own nightstand. After a moment, he pulls out a small, dark red colored box.

“Catch!” He warns before gently tossing it across the bed to you. You catch it, a smile blooming across your face as you sooth your thumb over the velvet material encasing the small box. He walks over to your side of the bed to stand beside you.

You raise the lid to box, revealing a dainty gold chain with a capital letter B dangling in the center.

You think it’s perfect. It’s isn’t overly ostentatious – it’s the perfect size, and so very you.

“Do you like it?” Bucky asks, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“I love it,” you assure him, overwhelmed by how sweet and thoughtful he is. “Help me put it on?”

You don’t care that it’s the middle of the night, you want it on you right now.

Bucky takes the box from you, carefully removing the necklace. You turn away from him, letting him drape the delicate chain around your neck. The charm lands just below your clavicle.

“There,” he murmurs as he clasps the chain together. You turn back to face him, letting him see his initial displayed across your chest. “Perfect.”

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper as you raise up on your feet to press your lips to his. The light flavor of your slick lingers on his lips, sending a fresh wave of arousal through your gut. “So much.”

“Of course,” he murmurs against your mouth. “Now lay down. Wanna see how it looks on ya without the towel.”

••••••

thanks so much for reading!! comments and reblogs are very appreciated ♡

[lincolndjarin]

constructive criticisms

main masterlist ✧ kinktober masterlist ✦

kinktober : day two - afab!ficauthor!reader x javier peña

prompt : virginity loss [ 18+ mdni ]

word count : 5.1 k

summary : javier peña has been a thorn in your side for months, the last thing you need is for him to find out you write dirty fanfiction

warnings, etc. : language, fluff, smut, protected sex, p in v sex, oral m!recieving, fingering, mutual masturbation, viginity loss (duh), innocence kink sorta, squirting, reader is completely clueless when it comes to sex, javier is a dumb sweetheart in this, plot w a little porn lol

a/n : yippee! this is an idea ive had floating around for a bit and this seemed like a good opportunity to do it! easily the longest of the kinktober stuff lmao which is why i didnt want this to be day one cause i didnt want to set a precedent haha. also i hate this but it's october so like i can't do much about that lmao. AND the edit was rushed bc i gotta get to work so apologies for any errors!!

  “What’s that?” You slam your laptop shut the moment you hear his voice. 

“Nothing.” You hadn’t heard him come into your office yet here he is, looming over your shoulder. 

“Didn’t look like nothing.” You can’t stand the mocking smile on his face. 

“Did you need something?” You do your best to sound patient. 

“I’ve got some suspect photos I need you to identify.” He’s still grinning from ear to ear as you hold your hand out for the file. You flip through the pictures before tossing them onto the pile of paperwork you’ve been trudging through. You’re waiting for him to leave but he just stays in place behind you until you spin around in your chair. 

“Is there something else?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, glowering at him. 

“What were you working on?” For god's sake, drop it. 

“Get out of my office Peña, or I won’t process your suspects.” Thankfully that gets him to leave, sighing as he closes the door behind him. Once you’re sure he’s not coming back you open your laptop again, quickly closing out your tabs. 

The last thing you need is for Javier fucking Peña to read your Star Wars fanfiction. 

He makes your life hell around the office enough as is. He makes fun of how you dress, he only ever asks you to file his paperwork, (despite the dozen others who are just as capable.) and you’re pretty sure he stole your lunch one time. He’s just in general a nuisance. (And it doesn’t help that he’s gorgeous and knows it.)

It’s not like you’re ashamed of your writing, you’ve mentioned it in passing to some of your friends around the office but Javier is different. He gives you enough grief without knowing how badly you wanna fuck Anakin Skywalker, you can’t imagine how much worse thing would get if he found you’re writing. 

So you get back to work, trying to forget the interaction entirely. 

You like to work late on fridays, it makes things easier, you don’t have to come in early on monday and no ones around to bother you while you work. You’re just about done with everything as you gather up all the finished documents, going from empty office to empty office as you leave the respective papers on each person's desk. 

You’re nearly done, you’ve just got Javier’s suspect list to deal with as you step into the bullpen to deliver it you’re surprised to see him still sitting at his desk, everyone else is gone, only his desk lamp and computer monitor light the large room. You approach quietly, wanting to get this done as quickly as possible so you can just go home. You’re about to clear your throat to get his attention when you freeze in place. 

You recognize the website he’s on. 

You’d know that red bar anywhere. 

There’s no fucking way. 

You feel your face getting flushed, a deep shame settling in your stomach as you take another step forward just to be sure.

Archive of Our Own beta

And just below that, the name of your favorite song, but more importantly, the title of your fanfiction. 

You’re so fucked. 

You feel a mess of angry tears starting to pool in your eyes as you hear him groan. 

That somehow hurts worse. 

Not only is he reading it, but he also thinks it’s so bad he’s audibly expressing it. You’re livid, and humiliated, you should spend this weekend looking for a new job because he’s about to become insufferable. Knowing him, everyone will know about it before you even get in on monday.

In your rage you walk forward noisily, tossing his files down onto his desk, turning, planning on glaring at him once before leaving, hoping he doesn’t see how truly upset you are. 

Nothing could have prepared you for what you’re met with. You’re expecting a smirk or maybe even a look of disgust, instead he’s gritting his teeth, his hair sticking to his forehead, a visible sheen of sweat on his face and most prominently, his hand haphazardly shoved down the front of his pants. 

You both realize the predicament you’re caught in at the same time. You stare way too long. Eyes lingering on the exposed skin where his shirt rides up, a trail of hair running down his naval. Neither one of you moves until you finally snap out of it, squeezing your eyes shut and turning on your heel, walking as quickly as possible towards the exit when you hear the squeak of his chair on the floor as he calls out your name. You don’t dare turn around though, not slowing your pace until you’re out of the building and in your car. 

Thankfully he doesn’t pursue you further as you drive home as quickly as possible. Hands tightly gripping the wheel the entire time. You can see your phone blowing up in your bag, the inside dimly lit the entire length of the drive. When you pull into your apartment building’s parking lot. You grab your bag and hurry inside, desperate to just go to bed and forget everything that just happened, ignoring the throbbing between your legs from what you just witnessed. 

You step inside your studio, locking up behind you as you toss your bag onto the bed, shedding your clothes and stepping into the bathroom, praying that a cold shower will clear your head. 

It doesn’t. 

You feel just as hot and frazzled as you did before. Maybe he was just trying to mess with you. If that’s the case then now he’s just sexually harassing you. 

Stupid fucking Peña. 

You pull a tank top over your head and throw on a pair of panties before collapsing on your bed. You don’t want to look but you won’t be able to sleep if you don’t, so you reach into your bag, retrieving your phone. 

Just as suspected you have an endless amount of messages from the man himself. You're about to start scrolling through them all when you read the most recent one. 

[ I’m coming over. ] 

Son of a bitch. 

You quickly scroll through the previous messages. 

[ I’m sorry, are you okay? ]

[ Call me or I’m coming over. ]

[ Please just text me back. ]

[ I really liked your story. ]

[ I’m sorry. ]

There’s about a hundred similar messages but one stands out to you more than anything else. 

He liked your story. 

Why does that make your face burn up?

You start typing, telling him that he doesn’t want to find out what’s gonna happen if he shows up but you’re interrupted by a knock on your door. You trip over yourself as you rush to your dresser, pulling on a pair of sweatpants before peering through the peephole. 

Sure enough, there he stands, he looks exactly like you’d left him, shirt untucked and askew, hair a mess, except now his hand isn’t in his pants. You’re about to reach over and turn your lamp off when he clears his throat. 

“I know you’re in there, your car was out front.” Well, so much for pretending you aren’t home. You hesitantly unlock the door before pulling it open, plastering a scowl on your face. 

“What do you want?” You try to look stern but you know you probably just look nervous. 

“I just wanna talk.”

You’re hesitant but you open the door fully, letting him in as you return to your bed, sitting and pointing at the loveseat in the corner for him. Neither one of you speaks, you watch as his throat bobs, he won’t look at you, staring at his hands instead. 

“How did you get my address?” You finally break the silence. 

“Your file.” He says sheepishly. 

“You can’t do that! That’s an invasion of my privacy!”

“That’s what you wanna be mad about?” Fair enough. 

“Fine, why did you do it?” You don’t like that he’s here, in your tiny apartment, the memory of him splayed out in his chair takes up all the space.

“Which part?” He finally looks up at you, meeting your gaze. 

“Why did you read it?” 

“I was curious.” He looks truly apologetic, it almost makes you want to believe him.

“Really?” Your tone drips with sarcasm. 

“You seemed really defensive, I wanted to see why.” It seems genuine but you know better. 

“You wanted to embarrass me.” You say plainly. 

“Why do you act like I’m out to get you?” His brows furrow and his mouth settles into a frown. 

“Because you are.” You say it matter of factly, you honestly can’t believe he’s acting like he doesn’t know. 

“I don’t understand what I did that makes you hate me so much.” You’re tempted to soften your gaze, but the last thing you need to do if this is all just some trick is appear vulnerable. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“Please, enlighten me.” He throws his hands up in exasperation. 

“You despise me! You torment me every single day!”

“Really? I torment you?” He points an accusatory finger in your direction. 

“You make me do your paperwork every single time, even when there are plenty of other people who are capable of it.” You feel the urge to stand and have this argument, you’re getting heated in several ways now. 

“You do it better than everyone else.” He shrugs like it’s a valid excuse. 

“Bullshit.” You snark as he puts his head in his hands.

“And I like the excuse to see you.” He mumbles before looking back up at him.

“You make fun of how I dress.” You’re quick to change the subject, not wanting to fall victim to his charms. 

“I do not.” His voice pitches up defensively. 

“You said I dress like your grandma.”

“That was a compliment.” He can’t be serious.

“How the fuck is that a compliment?”

“I love my grandma very much.” He sounds serious. 

“You’re a nightmare.” You fall back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, your head swimming with confusion. 

“Have you ever considered that I just wanted to be around you? You assume that I just liked to bother you but maybe I just like being near you.” He stands as you sit up, a look of honest upset on his face. 

“You expect me to believe that you did those things because you like me? Are we in middle school, Peña? You could have just asked me out instead of pulling my pigtails on the playground.” You stand, not liking the power imbalance of having him towering over you where you sit. 

“I did, you said no.” He crosses his arms and you scoff. 

“You did not, you can’t just make things up to get out of this conversation.” You poke a finger into his chest but he just brushes it away. 

“I asked you out to lunch two weeks ago and you said no.”

“I think I would remember that if it happened.” His anger fizzles out a bit as he looks you up and down. 

“I may or may not have thrown your lunch out that day so you’d be more likely to accept.” He gives you a sheepish look. “But you were so mad you brushed it off.”

“That was a serious offer? I thought you were messing with me.” He just stares at you, wide puppy dog eyes you have to turn away from lest you fall for this act. You don’t get a moment's rest though because as you stare at the floor a particularly harrowing thought crosses your mind. 

“How much did you read?” You turn back to him quickly. 

“Enough.” When you turn back to him he’s staring at his hands again. 

You both know what that means. 

“It seemed a little familiar.” He says softly. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You want him out, now.

“Don’t play dumb, you know what I’m talking about.” You’re going to look at job listings once he goes home. 

“I think you should leave.” You clear your throat, nodding towards the door. 

“I’m not leaving until we talk about it.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You sit back down on your bed, your legs feeling unsteady. 

“Well I do.” He takes a few steps in your direction and you immediately regret sitting. 

“I don’t care what you want, get out of my apartment, now.” You head is tilted up completely as you glare at him.

“Do you really not realize exactly what is happening here?” You can feel his breath on your face, cigarettes and spearmint. You turn your head to the side, refusing to look at him. 

This is exactly what happens in your story. 

“You’re an idiot.” You whisper, willing yourself not to get any more upset than you already are. 

“You wrote your story about us.” He says each word sharply as you grit your teeth. 

“I did not.” Now who’s just making things up to get out of a conversation?

“Everything that I did to you, he does to her.”

You don’t have a response to that. What are you supposed to say? He’s right, straight down to the confrontation where he tells her he wants her and she tells him that can’t be possible. He hates her. 

He kneels in front of the bed, moving to be in your eye line and when you go to turn your head he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

“I really did like your story.” You shove his hand away as he says it.

“Don’t mock me.” 

“Jesus, what do I have to do to make you realize I don’t have an ounce of contempt for you?” He stands, throwing his hands up in defeat.

You finally snap. 

“Maybe stop taking my shit and stop giving me extra work and stop invading my privacy and just fucking talk to me like an adult, you arrogant, immature, son of a-“ He grabs your face in both of his hands as he leans down and crashes his lips against yours, you let out a surprised squeak as he cups your jaw. After a moment he pulls back and you’re left staring at him dumbfounded. 

“Now, can we please talk about it?” He mumbles before pulling you in again for a single chaste kiss. 

“Okay.” You feel a little breathless at the abruptness of his actions. 

“I really liked it.” He smiles now, the energy in the room changing drastically. 

“You keep saying that.” You whisper.

“It’s true.”

“Wanna give me some constructive criticism?” You laugh but you can see his eyes flicker to the ceiling quickly and suddenly you want to press further. 

“You know you quoted me word for word a couple of times.” 

“You’re avoiding the question.” You laugh again but now you’re genuinely curious. 

“I guess I thought the sex scenes were the tiniest bit unrealistic.”

“Unrealistic?” You feign offense. 

“Well yeah I mean, it’s written like you’ve never had sex. They go at it all night and he never needs any breaks? And doesn’t she have like twenty orgasms? I’m pretty sure she’d be in terrible pain at that point.” He laughs softly but when you furrow your brows he stops. “I assumed because it’s fantasy that that’s intentional though.” He adds on quickly at the end. 

Your embarrassment is clear on your face as his own expression goes to one of poorly concealed surprise. 

“You’ve never-” He whispers, clearly shocked. 

“I’ve never.” You finish his sentence, not wanting to hear it out loud. 

“I mean, that’s fine.” His ears are burning red. 

“I know it’s fine.” You mumble. “I’ve had opportunities to, I just… I don’t know, I guess I made it too big of a deal in my mind and now I just don’t care but I’ve waited this long and-”

“Cariña, it’s fine.” He interrupts you now, that soft smile on his face never wavering. 

“Do you think my writing would be better if I had more experience?” You say it like it’s a joke but he sees right through you.  

“I’m not sure, how much experience do you have just in general?” He stands, moving to sit beside you on the bed. 

“Well I’ve kissed people before.”

“That’s it?” You glare at him and he coughs nervously. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course.”

“I’ve been busy with work, it's just, it’s never been a priority of mine.”

“You do know… how to do it? Right?” You smack him on the arm. 

“Of course I know how to do it, you read my stuff.”

“That’s why I’m asking.”

“Oh come on, you said it was good!” 

“It is good! Everything but the dirty stuff is really good!” You groan, putting your head in your hands, he sits quietly beside you for a bit, rubbing your back. 

“Do you want me to teach you?” He says lightheartedly. 

“Seriously?” You glare at him. 

“It’s the least I can do for unintentionally making your work life hell.” He’s starting to sound more genuine in his over, it sends a chill down your spine. 

“So what? We just… do it?” You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the idea of losing it to someone who knows what he’s doing. 

“No we don’t ‘just do it.’ we do other stuff first.” He sounds amused but you’re glad he doesn’t outright laugh at you. 

“Can you just- can you just tell me what to do?” You rest your head on his shoulder briefly and he runs his fingers through your hair. 

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes please.” You mumble, feeling a strange mix of aroused and nervous. 

“Well, in one of the later chapters she blows him, right?” You nod slowly. “And you say it’s her first time doing it, she probably shouldn’t have been able to just take all of him in her mouth right off the get go, especially since he’s apparently nine inches? Which is a whole separate issue by the way.” You can feel your face getting hot all over again as he explains everything like it’s obvious. “If you want to start there we can do that.” He murmurs, trying to meet your gaze but you just keep trying to look anywhere else. 

“How big is it supposed to be normally?” You chew on your lip, hoping you don’t sound stupid, you couldn’t be more thankful when he once again doesn’t laugh. 

“It depends, but nine inches is a bit outlandish. Have you ever actually looked at that on a ruler? It’s way bigger than you think.” He holds out the estimated size with his hands and you have to stifle a giggle. 

“Fair enough.” You lean against him one last time before sliding off the bed, kneeling in front of him. “So she’s like this.” You watch his throat bob as he swallows harshly, everything is starting to quickly become real as he nods. You reach your hands towards the noticeably larger bulge in his strict jeans, stopping just before you touch him. “Can I?” 

“Yeah, of course.” With his approval you gingerly unzip the restrictive fabric, watching his half hard dick spring free. He’s certainly not nine inches but he’s still intimidating. You don’t have a frame of reference but you have to assume he’s on the bigger side of things. 

“You don’t wear underwear?” You scoff, trying to lighten the mood despite the combined anxiety and arousal pulsing through you right now.

“Not usually.” He murmurs, notably softer than before. 

“What do I do first?” 

“If you want, you can start by touching it, just do what feels right.” He reaches down to hold your face for a moment until you’re able to calm down a bit. You reach forward at a snail's pace until finally wrapping a hand around the base, jumping a bit as you feel him twitch against your palm. You slowly stroke him, just once before looking up at him, a reassuring smile on his face as you stroke him a few more times, feeling him swell until he stands fully erect. Almost absentmindedly your other hand drifts between your legs, you experimentally grind against your own hand as you continue to leisurely jerk him off, watching how he grips the sheets when you run your thumb over his drooling tip. 

“What do I do next?” You look up at him. 

“Spit on it, hermosa.” His voice is raspy and you sit up on your knees, a line of spit falling from your mouth onto the head of his cock, drawing a hiss past his teeth. It’s easier to stroke him when it’s wet, you experiment with different speeds, watching his reactions until in a moment of bravery you tentatively guide him into your mouth. You can’t help but feel pleased when his hand instinctively flies to your hair, not moving you in any direction, just holding you. You swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting the bitter pre-cum as you open your jaw a bit wider, letting him slide over your tongue. As you take him deeper you feel him against your throat and you quickly gag, coughing a bit as he gently pulls you off. “Go slow, don’t take more than you’re able to.” You cough again, catching your breath before taking him in your mouth again, slower this time. “Use your hands on the rest.” He murmurs, the low tone shoots through you and you quickly go back to touching yourself with one hand while using the other to stroke the half of his length that you can’t fit in your mouth. 

After a few minutes you begin to moan against him as you try to reach your own peak, your hand now haphazardly shoved down the front of your pants. He’s leaning back, his pupils pitch black as he watches you, his breathing unsteady. 

“You think you’re ready for more?” He says sweetly, caressing your hair. You pop off of him, watching a line of spit going from the head of his cock to your lips. 

“Sure.” You feel less nervous than you thought you’d be as you stand up, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. You feel all fuzzy and slick between your legs, your pussy aches with need as he takes your hand, pulling you onto the bed with him. You sit up against the headboard as he strips completely, discarding his shirt and shoving his pants all the way down. 

You can’t help but take in the sight of him as he turns back to you. 

His warm sun kissed skin, the wide expanse of his shoulders a sharp ratio to his slim waist. He’s toned but he’s soft around the edges and his cock stands proud against the thatch of hair on his lower abdomen. You tilt your head the way it curves, admiring it until he laughs. 

“I want you to do something for me that wasn’t in the story.” He climbs back into bed with you, playing with the waistband of your sweats. 

“Sure, what is it?” You lift your hips, letting him pull them down, tossing them off the bed. 

“I want you to show me how you touch yourself.” You stare at him, a little shocked by the request, your eyes going wide. 

“Why?” 

“I want to see, I want you to show me what feels good.” You want to feel more self conscious but he’s completely naked and something about the fact that you’re still a little covered up helps you relax, with a soft sigh you gingerly slip your hand down the front of your panties. You go off of muscle memory, recalling what you would do if he wasn’t here. 

Tracing your fingers in delicate circles around your clit, watching as he begins to touch himself, almost matching your pace. This would have been a fantasy of yours that you’d resort to when nothing else worked. Javier Peña in your bed, revealing some sort of secret attraction to you, you just never thought it would ever come to fruition. 

But here he is.

Ravaging you with his eyes as you dip two fingers into yourself with a shuddering breath, his own movements stuttering a bit as you do so. With everything leading up to this it isn’t hard to feel the familiar heat building as you expertly push yourself towards it. After a few moments more you shove your panties down completely, wanting to be unencumbered as you discard them. Without them restricting you, you can easily feel that hot tightening sensation approaching rapidly. Your breathing gets heavy as you grind your fingers against your palm, you feel the familiar fiery sensation in the bottom of your stomach as you start haphazardly fucking your own hand, you keep your eyes on the way he fucks his own until you’re just about to burst and he takes hold of your wrist, stopping you.

“Please I-” You let out a frustrated whine but he shushes you with a quick peck.

“I know, can I do it?” You nod frantically, you’d like nothing more. He gently pushes two fingers into you, you gasp in surprise at the sudden stretch as he slides them in and out slowly, continuing to jerk himself off with his other hand as he watches how you eagerly suck him in. 

It doesn’t take much from there. 

His thumb mirrors the motions you did against your clit and that’s all he has to do to push you over the edge. Your cunt spasming around his fingers as he works you through your orgasm, hot white burns the edges of your vision and you keep your eyes open long enough to watch as he squeezes the base of his own cock, groaning as he makes his own attempts not to finish. You're vaguely aware of him murmuring something that sounds like praise in Spanish as you get your bearings, he slowly removes his fingers, leaning forward on his knees to kiss you. You catch your breath through the kiss until finally he pulls back.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” His breathing heavy as he nudges his forehead against yours. 

“Is it gonna hurt?” You’re more curious than nervous at this point. 

“It shouldn’t, and if it does I’ll stop, okay?” He hops off the bed for a moment, searching through his wallet before tossing you a condom. 

“Okay.”

“And you’re sure this is what you want?” You carefully tear open the condom wrapper, handing him the rubber ring with a nod, watching how he aptly rolls it onto his cock. 

“Probably wouldn’t have come this far if I didn’t.” You slide down the bed a bit so you’re mostly laying on your pillows as he positions himself on top of you. He still seems worried about you so you reach forward, taking his cock in your hand and guiding him between your legs. 

You can’t help but sharply inhale as he eases just the tip into you, your eyes flutter shut and your mouth opens slightly as you sigh.  

God, you wish you’d done this sooner. 

It doesn’t hurt. You expected a stinging, or a tearing, instead it’s just pressure. When you open your eyes you find his squeezed shut now as he slowly works himself into you, rocking slowly back and forth. He keeps your foreheads pressed together, occasionally, bumping his nose against yours. 

“Still good?” He whispers, a noticeable strain to his voice. You nod, watching curiously as he pushes his hips forward in one last motion to fully seat himself in your heat. His jaw is tense and he’s breathing through his teeth. “So fucking tight.” He mumbles before leaning forward, groaning into your mouth. 

“Does it hurt?” You ask when he pulls himself away with a soft smile. 

“No, it just makes me worried about hurting you.”

“I’m okay, I want you to move.” You look down to where the two of you are joined. Watching how he gently pulls himself from you just a bit before pushing back in. That’s when he bumps against that spot inside of you that suddenly has you seeing stars, your hands grip his shoulders as a moan slips out of you, the grin you’ve seen a hundred times before forms on his face, you’d once hated it but now it has you gushing around him. 

“Does that feel good?” He tilts his head to the side, nudging his nose against your temple as you nod fervently. He repeats the motion, pulling out about halfway before snapping his hips forward again, your back arching when he slams into the sweet spot inside of you. 

“Fuck- Peña, right there.” You whine, your nails leaving little crescent indents in the tan flesh of his shoulders. He gets into a steady rhythm with it, crashing into you with precise deliberate strokes, designed to make your head spin. He grits his teeth once more, his breath going ragged.

“Javier.” He pants, gripping your waist to hold you still. For a brief moment you almost see vulnerability in his eyes. 

“Just like that, Javier.” You stammer out as he bends one of your legs up, pressing you into the mattress further as he throws your ankle over his shoulder, the new angle letting him fuck far deeper into you than you even thought possible. The soft and slow Javier starts to dissipate as he bares his teeth, his breath hot and heavy through his tense jaw as he slams into you. The second orgasm building in your stomach isn’t like anything you’ve ever felt before, it’s molten inside of you, threatening to burst as he brings a hand to your clit.

“Shit- tell me when you’re close.” He growls, your vision’s already blurring again as an unfamiliar pressure settles within you. 

“I- I am.” You pant out, he accentuates each thrust with a grunt and you feel yourself slip as he applies the slightest pressure to your sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re positive you’ve never come like this before, you soak his cock, a flood of your release pulses out of you as you strangle his cock. He collapses into you, your orgasm sending him over his own edge. You feel him throbbing within you as he groans into the pillow next to you. The two of you lay in a sweaty, breathless heap for a moment until he pulls out of you with a hiss, rolling over, his chest heaving as he lays beside you. 

“Now do you believe that I don’t hate you?” He gasps out. 

“I might need a little more convincing.” You grin, reaching behind you to turn your lamp off before rolling yourself over so you're on top of him.

a/n : I have a very serious love hate relationship w this.

[gatitties]

Hi🤗♡.

Can I request teen!fem Reader with the (strawhat pirates & kid pirates & heart pirates)( the older version of them please in there 40 or 60).

The Reader got hurt very badly and she was in coma for month.

But of course everything was fine when the Reader wakes up and everyone is happy♡.

P.s : take your time okay :) .

─Strawhats, Kid Pirates & Heart Pirates x teen!reader (platonic)

─Summary: A life-threatening attack hits you and everyone is worried about your condition

─Warnings: the characters are older, like in those 40/60 year old drawings (reference)

─ You are the little light of the group, being the youngest everyone was always watching you in battle, they had full faith in your abilities, but they would not stop being worried.

─ But you're not always in a completely accessible place, the others also have their own fights at the same time so the world seems to stop when the sound of your body hitting the ground catches Nami's attention. "Oh- No- no- my god, Chopper!"

─ Usopp, who was the one who had only been running and launching light attacks, was the first to approach your body, noticing a large pool of blood around you and a big blow on your head, he turned pale when he saw you.

─ He easily carried you in his arms and took you to a less dangerous place while Chopper rushed to finish off his own opponent, he was with you in just a couple of minutes, he could be older, but he won't stop losing his nerve when he has than treating a loved one, "A doctor! We need a doctor right away!" "You're the doctor?!" "Oh right!"

─ While the others finish as quickly as possible to know if you are okay, you are treated emergency, managing to stop the bleeding and stabilizing your vital signs.

─ The problem was that you spent one day sleeping, two, three… and it became the longest week for the entire crew.

─ Everyone was impatient and uneasy, they would not forgive themselves if something happened to you, they knew that you would wake up sooner or later, they would just wait for you.

─ Chopper checks on you daily, Sanji puts a glass of fresh water on the nightstand every day in case you wake up and no one is there at that moment, Luffy and Usopp will sit down to play any board game to keep you company, Zoro will take some occasional nap on the floor (chopper puts some pillows and blankets there because age doesn't forgive back pain), Nami and Robin will talk to you as if you were gossiping with them on a normal day, Brook will sing something at night so that in your sleep better, Jinbe and Franky stop by from time to time to see if you're awake.

─ Everyone's spirits fade when the second week passes with no indication that you will wake up and they think the worst, however they cling to the fact that your condition is stable, you are healthy and you are much younger than them.

─ A month later, Luffy had fallen asleep resting his hand on your shoulder, he didn't give you time to open your eyes and you already had your captain hugging you. "Hey, it's been a while, I don't even sleep that much after a good meal!"

─ You laughed confused because you obviously didn't know how long you had been out, and it didn't take long for the others to find out, you were surrounded in a big hug although Chopper scolded everyone because he still had to do one last check before letting you walk freely.

─ This team fights with everything it has and you were not going to be less, although much younger, you were much more energetic than that whole group of old men, as you affectionately nicknamed them since they sometimes called you kiddo or child.

─ The problem is that sometimes you were somewhat impulsive, and that's why you attacked too quickly. Kid smiled, seeing himself reflected in your recklessness, although he scolded you. "Don't get ahead, these guys aren't as weak as they seem."

─ You turned a deaf ear since you had advanced well in the attack, but in an instant everything had gone black for you, a fatal blow to the abdomen left you completely out of combat.

─ "Oh fuck, the kiddo is hurt, shit- like, really screwed up, needs medical attention right away!" Heat is the one closest to you and the one in charge of protecting you until the bloodbath ends, which they do more quickly.

─ Killer knows that you won't wake up today because when they sewed the wound you didn't wake up because of the pain, he knew that you were very complaining about pain of any kind despite being a teenager.

─ The tension grows as the days go by, uncertainty because you don't wake up to joke that you've knocked down more guys, they are mentally torturing themselves even though they don't let it be seen.

─ Wire will talk to you to tell you all the gossip you miss, Killer will stop by every morning before starting the day hoping to see that you are standing, Heat will sleep next to you some days and Kid will not visit as often because he is venting his discomfort in his workshop.

─ Kid has been in a worse mood the last few weeks because you were the person with the smallest hands and he needed your help with some screws that were too small, which delayed his project, he missed your annoying little presence making jokes about his old age .

─ Killer had full faith that you would wake up sooner or later because they had treated you on time, it just made him nervous not knowing when it would be, "I will make your favorite food if you wake up today…" he always said in the hope that the food would open your eyes.

─ A month later when everyone got used to the lack of a gremlin running from one place to another (they didn't get used to it, that's what they want to think), you woke up, there was no one there at that moment so you got rid of all the cables, feeling good.

─ "Hey child- holy shit! you're awake, hey- what are you doing up?! You need to get checked before you walk around again" "I'm fresh as a lettuce captain! I can't say the same for you… but uh-" "I'm glad to see you're okay." He put his only arm over your shoulder and squeezed you like in a wrestling hold, roughly rubbing your head.

─ They used you as an excuse to have a party, although you didn't care much because you also celebrated and ate your favorite food.

─ Law was going to kill Shachi and Penguin because you got hurt on a mission with them, you took several hits, which exhausted you, and what you thought would be a nap back on the submarine ended up being something worse.

─ They tried to keep you awake while they used what Law had taught them about minimal care, but you couldn't continue.

─ They didn't even set foot in the submarine and you were already in a bed in the infirmary, the smell of blood gave away your condition, "I want a report on what happened and the area of the body that was most beaten, we will talk about your punishment later", both swallowed, knowing that their captain did not like to see his comrades injured but above all, to see someone with so much life ahead of them injured.

─ You are treated immediately and quickly, Law knows that you will not wake up for at least a week due to the blows and your condition, but you would get out of this, that does not prevent him from feeling an emptiness in the pit of his stomach.

─ Bepo will be in your room most of the time, reading out loud so that according to him, you wouldn't get bored in your dreams, Shachi and Penguin got some free time (because they were forced to clean the entire submarine until it shined) to apologize to you.

─ Ikakku stopped by from time to time to check your vital signs and tell you some things that had been happening.

─ Even though they knew you would wake up, not knowing when the moment would be made the entire crew impatient, although Law detected some changes in your condition after a month, he knew when you would finally open your eyes, which reassured him.

─ "What the hell…?" You mumbled when you woke up seeing that your arms and legs were tied, "I'm glad to see you awake" "How are you glad if I'm tied to a bed? Oh don't tell me, have you finally lost your mind and going to dissect me?" He sighed "Security, I knew you were going to get up as soon as you woke up and I want to do one last check" "Sure…"

─ Everyone found out later because you started screaming as if you were being tortured just because had to supply something with a syringe, at least you prolonged your hug with Bepo because of that.

─ Shachi and Penguin apologized to you again, but you downplayed it, right now what mattered most to you was having a good meal, you were hungry and Ikkaku had the solution to all your problems.

[arafilez]

LIGHTS, CAMERA, SMILE ㅤ—ㅤ ﹙★﹚

one night of spontaneity is all yeosang wants before he is back to the same routine. and you are just the right, gorgeous distraction !

PAIRING ﹕ k.ys x fem!reader ㅤㅤ✸ㅤㅤ GENRE ﹕ model au ㅤstrangers to lovers ㅤ fluffㅤ pg13 ㅤ﹢ㅤ 1.5k wc ㅤ—ㅤ WARNING ﹕ kiss, alcohol

EVENT ﹕ @pirateeznet second anniversaryㅤ⋆ㅤGRAPHICS ﹕ banner @kessavyo ㅤ﹢ㅤ moodboard @daemour

Lights! Camera! Bitch smile! Even when you wanna die.

Yeosang’s life has always been one of the most boring TV shows. Clicks of cameras, lenses shuttering, a smile that might as well be stitched by now and his body clad in designer clothes, he stands on the runway of Milan, under the glimmering lights of Italy.

A sigh leaves his lips, his porcelain-like skin crinkling the slightest as he plops down on the couch in the hotel lounge after what feels like the longest event in his entire career. But then again he knows he thinks that after every event, he drinks up his rosé wine and stumbles back to his room for the next day.

You have to suck it up, you chose this life yourself.

He is so immersed in twirling his glass on the table, smiling tipsily at the drink inside threatening to spill but never doing so, he does not notice when a figure slides down on the chair opposite to him. A short breath and clink of heels later he looks up, eyes meeting yours.

He opens his mouth to say the same sentence he has chanted like a mantra, sounding like a maniac to himself when he repeats it over and over, the usual ‘sorry no pictures or signatures allowed during my relaxation time’, you beat him to it and say, “Hi sorry if you don’t mind can I sit here? The other places aren’t really empty.”

Nervous whisper, hesitant smile and a dazzling voice.

For a moment he feels alive all over again before it dies. Probably just an excuse.

Yeosang slowly turns around in his seat ready to call out your bluff when he realises you aren’t lying. The chairs are actually filled with people chattering all around and reality slowly drips back to the slight haze he had let himself be covered in. “Sure,” his deep voice resonates between you two and you sigh in relief, putting down your bag and returning to your tablet.

His eyes fix on your features, long and droopy eyelashes, loose strands of hair along your nape, pursed lips as your hands move in a flawless manner over your tab. Yeosang has been an introvert all his life, never having the courage to even tap someone and talk to them so when his voice comes out he doesn’t even recognise it himself.

“Hi!”

“Hey!” you smile, putting down the tablet and the pen you were using on the table as you look at the man in front of you. He is quite literally flawless and looking at him you could tell either God really had favourites or he himself was a God.

“I am Kang Yeosang, nice to meet you,” his voice becomes shakier with each word, cursing himself for taking the initiative and actually talking when he probably has never started any conversation in his entire life.

“Y/n, nice to meet you too,” your grin widens as you hold out your hand and he takes it lightly. You notice the hesitance and curiosity burning in his gaze as he leaves your hand and continues staring at it.

You look at him discreetly slowly letting it sink in that the man in front of you is drop-dead gorgeous. High nose-bridge, perfect, accentuated lips, deep beautiful voice and the mark beside his eyes that feels intriguing.

Maybe it is the lighting of the lounge or the fact that you had had more than one drink for the night before you had made your way towards this enticing stranger, courage brimming in your system.

Elegance, sophistication, money. Things you could only dream of being a part of.

“So, Kang Yeosang, here for a nice little Italian trip?” the question easily slides up your lips. Maybe you just want to be a part of it for one night, one single night and maybe you could just get a taste of whatever eludes with sophistication in front of you.

He looks at you, now twirling the empty glass in his hand, and mouths, “Work.”

“So much work it requires you to be alone?” a slightly enunciating tone and Yeosang raises an eyebrow chuckling at the unasked question. What could hurt if he is actually bold and daring one night?

“Yes, unless I want to get caught in a scandal,” he notices the light change in your demeanour as soon as the sentence leaves his lips, your fingers which were lightly drumming the tablet screen now hovering unsurely, eyes widening for a millisecond before you regain your composure and hum lightly.

“I am a famous model,” he adds, finding it a bit odd how someone who is designing a suit on her tablet has never seen modelling shows. He doesn’t say it out loud, enjoying his boldness a bit too much for his liking.

One night.

One night before he goes back to the usual.

Lights! Camera! Bitch smile! In stilettos for miles.

“Well, if I had known that this is what I missed, I sure would have paid more attention to the boring walking shows,” a hint of mischief burns in your eyes as the sentence leaves your lips. Yeosang’s eyebrows raise to your flirty tone as he meets your eyes in a glance far too heated for a stranger.

You seem to be so much trouble! Gorgeous, messy, spontaneous trouble! Yet the trouble is what he likes.

“Bold for a designer to say that,” he leans across the table deliberately pulling your glass towards him and pushing it up to his lips for one sip.

One single sip and a rage of unwanted heat travels down your body.

Your eyes lock with his and travel down his defined cheekbones, down to his lips glistening in the aftertaste of the wine, your wine and down to the glass he is holding rather carelessly.

“Wanted a taste,” you hear his deep voice forming a silver lining over the deafening buzz in your ears.

“Only the drink?” you challenge, albeit bolder than you have been your whole life. The man in front of you is straight out of Greek mythology and it would be utterly stupid to let this opportunity go. Especially since he actually made a move.

“Mine’s finished,” he reasons, mischief sparkling in his eyes making you chuckle as you reply, “You can always refill.” “Where’s the fun in that?” his deep laugh travels down your spine and a range of emotions spark inside your body.

You don’t know how you end up in the fountain side from the couch. All you can remember his warm hands engulfing yours and a few whispered nothings later you are giggling by the water. The moon makes a clear reflection on the monuments and quite frankly it accentuates his features even more.

“Has anyone ever told you you are beautiful?” Yeosang’s voice reaches your ears much to his own surprise. Sober Yeosang would have never even thought about this and even though he had just had one glass, blaming it on alcohol felt so much easier. Freer.

He must have lost his mind, being so high on the night and blatantly complimenting a stranger he has met a few hours prior. One night, his mind resonates and he lets the worries easily slide to the back of his mind.

“Has anyone ever told you that the birthmark can be kissed all day long? And possibly every day!” The last part comes out as a whisper and you have no idea what you are doing. Any other time your mind would be blaring with the ‘Stranger Danger’ alert but tonight you just want one taste.

One taste of the man who eludes an amount of elegance you have never dreamed of reaching.

You let out a satisfied hum when you feel his mouth on yours, hands carelessly pressed against his chest. His fingers trail down your jaw enunciating kiss after kiss forming a cloud of haze over any rational decisions in your mind. When your fingers tangle in his hair he lets out a light groan, pressing your bodies to each other wanting to take anything the night is willing to give you two.

No camera, no reporters, nobody is watching you two but Yeosang is scared. More than he has ever been in the spotlight and he is not even in the spotlight right now.

Yeosang doesn’t know what is happening from here. He has never plunged into a risk so bad. But he knows- trouble is what he likes. So one night. One night before it dissolves into the harsh reality of tomorrow! One night before he has to hear the same “Lights! Camera! Smile.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ—ㅤ—

The smooth lining of the cloth wraps around Yeosang’s skin as he stands in the flashes of the camera on the Milan runway. He feels alive, free and happy to stand there and flaunt a cloth of his personal favourite designing line.

When he turns back and meets your eyes from the far behind of the curtain backstage, his laugh lines reappear and the camera flashes increase in intensity, shutters rapidly opening and closing.

"Lights! Camera! Smile!" The stage director calls out.

But this time the smile is real!

ARA'S NOTES ﹕ omg trying a different piece to write is so hard ngl. inspired by lyrics from "i can do it with a broken heart" by taylor swift. happy second anniversary to @pirateeznet yayyyyy and tysm to @daemour for beta-ing.

NAVI ﹕ @pirateeznet postㅤ⋆ㅤlibrary ㅤ atz shelfㅤ navi

TAGLIST ﹕ @haneagerr @weird-bookworm @aaa-sia @yeosayang @gong-fourz ㅤ⏤ㅤ fill this or comment or ask to be added.

ㅤㅤ(ㅤㅤ© arafilez on tumblrㅤㅤ)

[wutheringmights]

Commentary for latest CTB chapter???👀👀👀👀

Thank you! You guys are as prompt as ever. Unfortunately, I needed a few days to get my thoughts together (and honestly would have taken even longer if I wasn't going out of town this weekend).

I kinda struggled a bit to have Important Thoughts about this chapter (I have been so tired all week), but I did my best.

(Triggering content from the chapter are discussed below).

I’ve mentioned many times already that I suffered from a massive bout of writer’s block during this chapter; and it’s a bit hard to pinpoint what exactly caused it. 

On one hand, I think the last chapter was just so much that I may have burnt myself out on an emotional level. Usually, a week or two off is all I need to fix it, but I also had a lot of personal responsibilities that took up all of my bandwidth. 

And, frankly, there’s a part of me that is a little freaked out that I’ve been working on this story for so long, and that I might not be able to finish it within my self-imposed deadline (if I have to see CTB’s 4th birthday, I am gonna lose it). That’s not to say that I don’t enjoy writing CTB or that I feel pressured to keep going; I just felt exhausted and overwhelmed by how much of my life I’ve sunk into a story that not only refuses to end in a timely manner, but that I can’t share with anyone I know in real life. 

My burnout required a few months' rest to get over, but that’s not to say I didn’t try to work on this chapter that entire time. 

So I actually started this chapter back in April, right after I published STP. I wrote this opening scene of Link ruminating over the past and got stuck trying to transition to him being found. I got so stuck that I ended up bouncing over to the present-day section, where I got stuck in a new and novel way (which I’ll talk about more later). 

That means that everything else in the past I wrote the day before posting. On one hand, I was raring to go and I felt really good getting all those words onto paper. It did a lot for my ego. On the other, I really wish I took more time to revise a lot of this. I think the pacing overall is really strong, but there’s a few ideas I threw out into the story that I really wish I lingered on. 

For example, I mention that Link’s physical abuse was a relatively short stretch of time compared to how significant it is. Him being violent towards the engineer feels like it went on forever and forever, but it only lasted about 4 months. I like this detail so much because it helps to illustrate how even short-term abuse has lifelong effects on people. If I lingered on this chapter a bit more, I would have found more ways to ruminate on it. 

I almost had Ayane discover Link in his house. I ended up changing it to Jakucho since, as much as Ayane likes Link, she would not care enough to go check up on him.  

For the longest time, I imagined Link’s room at the Miyashita estate to be the same as the one he was held prisoner in post-Kakariko Well. But I ended up stating in that chapter that the room was located in a part of the house he had never seen before. So Link’s room was changed from a formal guest room to a study.

In universe, this is so that he’s encouraged to read books and is easily within Jakucho’s reach.

I personally got a hearty chuckle out of Link being denied chopsticks by default; he’s probably very good at using them in the present, but during this time he’s probably really shit at it. Real white boy behavior. 

If I gave myself more time to work on this section, I would have played around with the idea of him being haunted by an imaginary engineer, just as he had been haunted by an imaginary version of his old self on the way to the Kakariko Well. I don’t know if I would have committed to it, though. On one hand, it would have been a cool way to illustrate his inner thoughts. On the other, it implies a mental break I don’t think he’s experiencing. 

On a similar note, I worry that this chapter wasn’t that effective because it was way less (for a lack of better words) dramatic than the past few “Link Has A Breakdown” chapters have been?

Let me explain. So nearly every time Link has been under emotional duress before this, I’ve played with the prose to show how his reality is being warped. Take chapter 24 for example. Link gets stuck on the engineer leaving him, so the passage of time in that chapter becomes unclear-- both in him not realizing how quickly time is passing and him constantly going back to the day he realized the engineer was gone for good. The prose is written in a way that conveys that reality has broken. It’s very melodramatic. 

But for this chapter, reality is firm. Link’s mind has cleared enough to see what happened in the past clearly. The prose can’t dramatically screw with perception because that’s not what’s happening. The passage of time and the depiction of reality has to be crystal clear. 

So despite making these long, semi-experimental passages one of my signature moves, I couldn’t use it here without actively detracting from the story. On one hand, a more grounded chapter effectively shows how this breakdown is different. On the other, it’s a little basic. 

I have a bit of a problem where past!Ayane is a bit too similar in personality to Linkle. Ayane in the present day is supposed to be a cool teenager who is probably a bit of a mean girl at school-- the kind that will grow out of it the moment she leaves for college. But I wanted to show her entering this stage of life in the past, so she’s less bratty and more troublemaking.

Speaking of which, any reference to Ayane “going through a phase” is supposed to refer to her becoming a moody teenager. I didn’t realize until literally yesterday that it might come off as her family being transphobic. They’re supportive of her being a girl; they just get fed up with how much of a kid she is. 

The point of the chapter that made me start tearing up in the coffee shop is when Ayane got mad at Link for destroying the journal. I’ve been that kid who understands cognitively that a parent in your life is not well but still struggled with what that meant on an emotional level. Her family definitely explained to her that Link isn’t well and etc, but that can be kinda abstract for kids to really understand. So when the mental illness causes him to react badly, it seems to her that he is hurting her because he does not care about her. 

And there are a whole slew of issues you can explore with that idea alone, like how culpable is Link for his actions when he is unwell but still the adult? I’ve already started exploring bits of it with the child’s relationship with Link and the engineer. But exploring this idea from a different perspective (the child and his fucked up emotional issues vs Ayane’s normal preteen perspective) is always interesting. 

Link impulsively trying to kill himself was not in my original plan for the chapter, but after everything... yeah, he would try. This might have something to do with an episode of You’re Wrong About I was listening to work last week where they talked about the percentage of suicides that are impulsive decisions versus premeditated.

(Of course, today I listened to the episode on copycat suicides and now I am very nervous about this chapter being used as an instruction manuel)

I was going to have his attempt be to freeze to death outside, but then I thought of the obi belt, and I really could not resist alluding back to the hanging scene in chapter 13

It ended up being a good transition into a scene I’ve wanted to do for a while now: Ayane’s mom asking him to continue acting like Ayane’s older brother. 

I originally wanted that moment back when their friendship was just starting out, but decided to toss it to his depression arc to act as a moment of encouragement for him. What I didn’t expect was to stumble into this scene being both a way to talk him out of suicide, as well as him realizing he’s a shitty brother. I’m a terrible brother is a monumental realization for him, and I stumbled into it by accident. 

I was tempted to remove Ayane’s mother from this scene and put Jakucho here instead. But Jakucho would never ask Link to play an older brother role. Plus, I like the idea that a random, near-stranger accidentally talked him down without realizing what they were doing. 

And of course, having Ayane’s mother talk helps to develop the Miyashita family dynamic and give a better idea as to why Shigeo is estranged. 

Ayane’s mother also has a very tiny appearance earlier in the story-- chapter 9, when we meet Jakucho for the first time. Granted, I think I only referred to her as Impa’s sister. 

I also stumbled accidentally into the moment with the koi fish and using them as a symbol for perseverance. I really like that scene. I almost named the chapter “The Koi Pond” in its honor. 

I also admit that until fairly recently, I also didn’t know fish could live in frozen water. 

I went back and forth about whether I wanted to make a big moment at the beginning of the chapter about Link going non-verbal, or if I should let it build up slowly; I ended up going with the latter.

I didn’t want to make his non-verbalness the center of his issues when it’s just a consequence of his depression. He’s not depressed and non-verbal. He’s non-verbal because he’s depressed. So waiting until the second half of this section to address it homely drove home that this is only a symptom of a larger issue. 

This chapter also gave me the opportunity to address my sign language headcanon; it’s standard taught in school, but not in a way where everyone is actually good at it. It’s like learning Spanish in elementary school; you grow up remembering a few phrases and words, but never actually become bilingual. 

I like the way the bell motif is used in this chapter. In the past, Proxi’s bells are a sign that things are going to get better. In the present, the Castle Town bells signal that things are about to get a whole lot worse. 

But, yes! After all this time, Proxi is finally here. Hopefully the long wait for her introduction/return will be worth while.

For the present day:

Remember how I said my writer’s block struck for this part of the chapter as well? I solved it in the dumbest way possible. 

One of my big issues was that I didn’t know how to string everything that I needed to get done into a cohesive chapter (because if the chapter isn’t good, then I would have wasted so much of my time on a story that isn’t good, and etc.). My solution was to write a flat draft with only the stuff needed to move the plot forward (talking to Ganondorf, getting on the boat, etc), and then do revisions where I added character moments.

Except, I did character moments by the character. So I would spent a week adding scenes about Spirit, then another about Time, and so on. I said in this post that I turned a 5k draft into a 12k draft. Yikes. 

Because I wrote the chapter like this, I think the pacing is not great. The dinner scene and the post-Midlink gossiping was originally one scene, which I split into two to accommodate other character stuff. But I also think this is one of the most well-balanced chapters in terms of how many characters got a moment to shine. 

I’m really enjoying how much you all enjoy Ganondorf. I think nearly every comment on the chapter so far has mentioned him. I almost regret keeping him in the Zora’s Domain right now, but have no fear. He will be back. 

I am endlessly amused by this moment when Warriors realizes he has to talk to Spirit again, and he thinks “Spirit. / Fucking Spirit.” Is he cursing him out, or is he remembering... you know...

I mentioned a long time ago that one of the issues I had to fix when starting this chapter was finding something for the rest of the Chain to do in this final act. I figured out what their deal is, and a lot of tiny moments in this chapter is the set-up for that.

In a similar vein, I feel like I lost the thread on Time for a hot while there. I really had to mull over what his problem is, how he was going to respond, and how I can show Time responding near Warriors so that the reader can know. I’ve never had this much difficulty writing him-- or characters in general-- before. Hence, my on-going battle against writer’s block.

Another amusing moment that only I think it funny: Spirit lifting Warriors up by the scruff of his neck to haul into the alley way, like he’s an old cat. Honestly, I should write more jokes based around Spirit being strong enough to lift Warriors now.

Now that I think about it, I have a scene in my head where Warriors bitches so much while traveling that Spirit just throws him over his shoulder and carries him like a sack of rice. Is it out of character for both of them? Yeah, but we can imagine it happens in the AU where they are friends.

I have been wanting to provide some form of a resolution for Midna and Twilight for so long, but there hasn’t been a good moment to make them talk-- or at least, a moment where they can talk while Warriors is nearby to listen.

I really enjoy striking a comparison between how Midna and Twilight hashed everything out versus the bullshit Warriors got up to last chapter, especially because Midna and Twilight’s solution was to just give up. It’s not going to work out ever, so they might as well enjoy themselves now.

I love MidLink so much, but part of that love is in how it 100% would not work out between them. As Midna says, they would hate each other in a year. But they keep trying anyway because they love each other right now and that’s what matters. 

Speaking of which, Midna’s “we’ll hate each other in a year” line is a reference to the Greta Gerwig Little Women movie. I love that movie so much, enough that I can forgive Timothy Chamalet for being in it. He has a scene where his proposal is met with basically the same sentiment from Saoirse Ronan’s character. 

Tiny little headcanon: Skyloft’s theater style is very similar to ancient Greek theater, with heavy use of masks and choruses. That’s why he mimics holding a mask when performing Twilight’s line for Lana.

His line was originally something Twilight actually said, but then I went in a revised the MidLink scene and got rid of it. I kept Sky’s mocking of it because I thought it was more realistic.

I won’t say much about what the boys talked about post-confession scene, except to point out that they were kept up by the noise, they might have an idea of the timing of when everything went down during the Hot Mess

I’m glad everyone found my joke about always going to Wild’s era funny lol

Chateau Milk (aka: alcoholic milk beverages) is a tiny little world building detail I have been dying to do for ages. I wanted to use any scene of milk-drinking to shove in a joke about Hyrule being intensely lactose intolerant (he’s immune to all bad food except dairy), but I couldn’t squeeze it it. 

The ribbon kinda got a disproportionate role considering how briefly I referenced Spirit losing it last chapter. 

The reason Warriors was sharing a room with Four was so that I could finally do a follow-up on the Four Swords stuff I started forever ago, but it has once more been punted off to another chapter. Maybe one day...

By the time I got to this second conversation with Time, I was feeling much better about how I was writing him. Between this and his earlier appearance, this is definitely the stronger moment. 

I also deeply amused by Ganondorf and Lincoln have to pretend to be very bitchy with each other in order to not seem like they were married. I wanted to write a scene where Ganondorf argues that Lincoln needs to show him the proper request so that Lincoln would have an excuse to kiss his hand, but I ended up not having the energy or will power to go back in and add it. 

Spirit is so not used to anyone having a genuine interest in his senses that Sky’s question totally caught him off guard. Thank god Sky is the type of person who would ask because I got a good moment to clarify more of the limits of Spirit’s senses-- mainly, that a lot of the info he gets is so contextual that most of it is nonsense to him

To clarify, Spirit’s senses freak out people outside of his era. In New Hyrule, where the idea is a bit more common place, it’s considered rude to ask just as its rude to tell people what you sense. Lokomo customs, and all that.

I didn’t plan on having Spirit cut his hair, but I was deep in the throes of writer’s block and felt like I needed to write about Spirit doing something a little insane to respike my interest. Cutting off your hair because the guy you hated saved your ribbon fitted the bill nicely.

(Nonetheless-- RIP Spirit’s long hair. You were much beloved)

Spirit and Lana’s relationship has always been very underbaked on my part. I didn’t do a lot with them at the beginning of the story, and I haven’t done much with it now (or even much with Lana in general). Here is a vague attempt to salvage my mistakes. If I could ever revise the whole of CTB (I will never), this would be one of the things I would improve

Oh God... the Nephus stuff...

Like, I knew this was going to happen. What I worry about is whether it feels cheap to just have a character go back on their word like that. It’s realistic, if only because Warriors’s deal was really shitty. But on the other, it’s not very satisfying for the reader. You want the characters to have complex reasons for everything. I’m not sure that this qualifies. 

And this applies to all of the war stuff this chapter. Did Nephus lie about not wanting the Triforce? Whatever the answer is now, it’s not going to be satisfying. 

I know I said previously that Lincoln had no suspicions as to what happened during the Hot Mess. Well, I lied. Guy had it figured out fairly early on and only needed the opportunity to ask.

I just hope this scene with him and Spirit shows how Lincoln can be Warriors’s dad. Warriors is his mother’s son, but some of his insanity is from his father. 

Also we’ll pretend Lincoln has had that arm tattoo this entire time. The tattoo is not plot relevant, but it’s important to me.

Legend’s “it’s always the fucking Triforce” speech is my favorite Legend line in a chapter.

On a subconscious level, I was basing Castle Town on Boston. Why? I have no good reason. Just felt right. 

I really wish I managed to get us to Castle Town any time before this part of the story, if only to explore all the various neighborhood ideas I have. I managed to squeeze in the Gerudo neighborhood, but I have more thoughts on neighborhoods for the Zora, Goron, Rito, and even regular-old humans. 

I’m going to tell you right now that the girl in the graveyard is not plot relevant. I had a whole thing about the grave being a memorial for all the heroes across the eras and her praying to the memorial for a new hero that I just never got around to explaining

“Shines with humility” is another line that deeply amused me. Like, buddy. That is not how humility works.  

The Master Sword rejecting Warriors is supposed to feel very fitting and very unfair, all at once. I wanted people to understand why he’s lost the right to use her while still being frustrated that he was still being punished. I wanted this to be another opportunity for complex feelings. I don’t think the scene hit the right way, but that’s alright.

There was a point of time where I was plotting this half of the story when I realized I could use the Triforce scar idea that I had previously abandoned. I like the idea and the scene a lot, but I wonder if it feels forced? Like the whole story bent over backwards to make my silly idea possible. Let me know if this feels like a natural conclusion, or if I messed up somehow. 

That being said, this whole scene where Warriors and Spirit were cutting the Triforce into his hand was a lot of fun to write. Nothing breaks writer’s block like writing an insane character dynamic. 

I feel like I should talk more about themes and what this means for them, but you have eyes. You probably get the point by now. Instead, I will inform you that I did try to read that section to my writing friends, who all agreed that they did not have enough context to understand what the fuck was going on. And, yeah. That’s fair. 

I really wish I waxed more poetry about Warriors reentering the public eye. I did not have enough willpower to revise the hell out of that scene. However, I love the ending bit with Warriors asking Hyrule to make sure he gets the scar. 

One last thing-- I really should have done a revision because an important plot element may have gotten lost in it. I won’t say what, but hopefully it won’t cause problems down the road. 

And that’s the chapter! I feel like I didn’t have a lot to talk about this chapter, despite taking a near-week to write up all my thoughts. Next one should hopefully come sooner, but note that I still have a few more weekend trips and real life responsibilities to handle. My life is not settling down again until the beginning of October. 

I really want to emphasize that my bitching about my writer’s block and the source of it is not something I really need sympathy for, and it’s really not something encouragement is going to fix on it’s own. I appreciate the thought, but a lot of my issues right now just require some self-reflection on my part. I don’t want anyone feeling forced to drop a nice word or feel worried I’ll drop the story without it; I’ll still dedicated to finishing CTB. I just need some time (and to stop hanging out with my extended family). 

In other news, my friend offered to bind CTB into a book for me. Well, books. She knew the word count going in, but I have heard many complaints about how long CTB is. Apparently, it’s 6 volumes so far. Some volumes only have two chapters. When I told her I updated last Sunday, I saw the light leave her eyes. I love her dearly, and I will find a way to pay her back for this. 

[thegracelessfaceless]

Coming Home From Work to Sal

Tw: drug use mention

It's been a long day

You might argue the longest

Regardless of the field you work in

Every interaction you had today was a difficult one

People where whiny and obstinate

Simple tasks turned tedious and frustrating

And the work hours just dragged by

Every second expanding and then collapsing on itself with each tick of the clock hand

Whatever they're paying you...

Today it just isn't enough

You want nothing more than this shift to end because at least you know that at clock out time, they can't exactly force you to stay

The moment finally gets here

Clock out time

And you beat feet to your ride home

And as you walk up the front steps

There he is framed in the doorway

Sal, hair mussed from his after work shower, baggy pajama bottoms featuring characters from Ricko's Modish Wife, and a band shirt for King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard

He holds the door for you and follows behind you as you shed your uniform on the way to the bathroom

And then listens as you unload your day

From the stupid overreaction about a small hiccup provided by Brandy in sales

To the complete Karen of an old woman who just kept haranguing you

To the fact that you totally overcommitted yourself with work duties today that were and weren't actually necessary

Sal diligently follows you from the bathroom and shower, to the bedroom (where he stole a few kisses and maybe a few squeezes too), to the kitchen where you both ate dinner standing up over the sink, and then finally to the living room

To console you on your bad day, Sal turns on your favorite guilty pleasure show

Even though watching it always makes him feel like happily slamming a door onto his head repeatedly

He engages in the show, and finds himself getting invested in it too

Also provided by Sal:

A foot rub after a long foot soak in the foot soaker Maple bought you for Christmas

Warm blankets

A big ol' bowl/joint/blunt/whathaveyou, if you partake. If not, Sal will have already handled this step himself before you got home

Your favorite snacks, along with some of his because he knows you secretly enjoy them

Hot tea/steamed milk/coffee, depending on your preference (Sal actually makes killer coffee despite not drinking it. He's surrounded by coffee drinkers, he had to learn at some point)

And then finally,

When you both retire for the night

Sal reads you a few chapters from whatever book he's reading

He could read you a stereo manual and you'd eat up every minute of it

You constantly suggest to Sal that he should make an ASMR channel on YouTube

Just his deep, raspy voice carefully articulating words so his Jersey doesn't show as much

Lulling you to sleep

And in those last few moments of consciousness, you feel Sal's lips press to your forehead

Goodnight Reader, I hope your day is better tomorrow and I love you

Vent section: For those of you who follow my blog and know my life, I work on a dementia ward. We got a new resident today. She is completely rude and hateful, incessantly talks, picks on/picks fights with other residents, argues for arguments sake, and biological functioned in the hall (TWICE). Needless to say, her presence has thrown off my entire work groove. I tried to compensate by deciding to do linens today, help out... For rooms 13-24... All of them. It was almost too much but I got it done right before my shift was done. I work 12 hour shifts so 15 loads was a completely doable task... Right? Anyway, while I was doing that, two of my residents (besties, Ms. Daisy and Ms. Eileen (all names have been changed for privacy and dignity)) managed to slip through the coded fire doors that lock down the hall (dementia patients wander and get lost easily, we have to keep them locked down for their safety). They didn't go far. The rest of the building caters to elderly people who just need a little help, and Daisy and Eileen went to the dining room on that wing. An elopement is when a resident manages to get completely out of the building, out in the world . So not even really an elopement. But mass panic ensued while we were trying to find out how they got out. Turns out they were camping the doors, and waited for a family member to come through and slipped out... Very crafty. One headcount later, administration finally left and it was back to dealing with the new lady, Glenda, who I'm sure will appear in many incorrect quotes on my blog. I normally completely loathe a new resident when we get them. As you can see, it throws off my whole day. I'll get used to her, figure out who she needs me to be, and be that person for her. I'm sure we'll end up thick as thieves. It's always the difficult ones that I end up liking the most.

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #1222: Watching the Sunset Together (Sonic X DK Country)

7:15 p.m. at the Smash Beach............

Funky: (Sighs Relaxingly While Sittong to Wave, Watching the Sunset Together) Now, this is a view of the century right here.

Wave: The color and shade on that sunset does look very pleasing to the eyes. Relaxing even.

Funky: (Smiles Brightly to Wave) That's the best thing about watching the sunset, baby. It's so bright and vibrant that it erases all your stress and troubles you've received in your day and helps ease your mind to an all time low. Can't even begin to tell how many times it helped me out over the years.

Wave: (Forms a Bit of a Teasing Smirk on her Face) You, the most laid back Kong in the planet, gets stressed out that easily? That's a shock of the century if i ever heard one~

Funky: (Chuckles Lightly) It's the honest truth, little lady! Even your boi here have his stressed filled moments from time to time. Helping out the Kongs, getting all the machines and techs are fixed up for completion, keeping Konga Island safe and secured from any reoccuring and/or potential threats, finishing off massive pilesof paperworks on the side, and rinse and repeat.

Wave: (Eyes Widened in Genuine Surprise) Oh god....That's even worse than my work schedule.

Funky: (Casually Shrugs) Yeah, it's a tiresome chore, but it's nothing I can't handle completely. But since we're on the topic of work related schedules, what's yours like?

Wave: Oh just the usual: Preparing and settong up business meetings, fix up and modify almost every new Extreme Gears release, do a couple of researches here and there, make sure Jet does his share of paperwork- (Starts Rolling her Eyes in a Bit Annoyance) While also making sure he doesn't go out and try picking fights with Sonic again in the process.....

Funky: Those two has been butting heads for longest now, huh?

Wave: Yeah. Since the day they've first met at Metal City. Sorry if their consent bickering became a bother to you out there.....

Funky: (Gives Wave a Reassuring Smile) Nah, don't even worry about it, little lady. Rivalry as fiery as theirs helps build characters and personal growths.

Wave: Don't forget ego.

Funky: (Chuckles Lightly) Yeah, that too. But my point still stands. Let the boys keep having their heated feud. And tell 'em I'll be around if they want another rematch with yours truly, will ya?

Wave: Will do.

'Bit of Silence'

'Sound of the Smaller Waves Coming in the Shore'

Wave: (Starts Scratching her Cheek Very Lightly) So uhh.....Can I ask you something?

Funky: Sure. What's up?

Wave: I heard you used to hate going on adventures a lot. Is that true?

Funky: ('Sigh') Yeah, adventures and I never clicked together those days. They're filled with a lot of danger and risks you can fall right into if you're not careful and I wanted no part of it for as long as I could even remember. That is until the day the Snowmads sailed into the island and took over. DK and the crew weren't seen and heard from shortly after that, so i had to set out, look for them, and the fight the baddies off myself. (Looks Up at the Sunset) It was a little nerve-wracking at first- (Smiles a Little) But I slowly started to warm up to it the more time passes by. And once the day and jungle was saved afterwards, I felt good, more alive than I've been in my entire life, and I wanted to have another go at it one of these days if I ever get the chance.

Wave: (Smiles Softly) You should. Despite the dangerous hazzards the locations may have long ahead, It could still be a pretty fun and exhilarating experience if you know what you're doing. Heck, if you like, you're more than welcome to join me on a Treasure Hunting Adventures someday. (Starts Blushing and Whispering) Just the two of us.......

Funky: (Turns Back to Wave With a Bit of a Smirk on his Face) Two of us you say?~

Wave: (Eyes Widened Before Turning Back to Funky) Uh. Y-Yeah. (Puts on a Pouty Looking Face) What of it?

Funky: (Casually Shrugs) Oh nothing. It's just that whenever I see two people, with a close, stable relationship, doing anything alone together- (Lowers his Shades, Showing off the Cool, Sophisticated Look in his Eyes) It mostly negates to that of a date of some kind~

Wave: (Blush Turns Bright Red) O-O-Oh GET REAL, JERK! (Quickly Turns Away From Funky with her Arms Close) It's just a trip between two, highly knowledgeable associates, nothing more!......But.....say if this whole thing was a date propsal.....(Slowly Turns Back to Funky) Would you accept? H-Hypothetically speaking of course.

Funky: (Grabs his Chin While Thinking) Welllll.....if that were to ever been made from anyone else I don't know all too well, I'd probably wouldn't accept right away, but if it's from you, little lady- (Smirks at Wave Again) I would take you out in a heartbeat~

Funky Kong Winks at Wave, causing her get even more flustered than originally.

Wave: J-Just me, huh?

Funky: (Chuckles Lightly) Yep! Only you. You're pretty cool to hangout with in general, so why not?

Wave: (Rolls her Eyes) Probably the reason why most people don't give me the time of day: I'm boring, bossy, know-it-all.

Funky: Hey now. Ain't no shame in knowing a lot of things, everyone needs someone to keep them in check sometimes, and you are far from being boring in my eyes, Wave. And if any those folks thinks otherwise and still ignore you because of it, then that's all on them. (Forms a Cheeky Grin) It just means I can have you all to myself. (Immediately Starts Blushing as Wel Whilrle his Smile Turns More Sheepish Likel) I-If that's alright with you, of course?~

Wave: (Almost at a Loss For Words) Funky.....I-

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!~

Wave/Funky: (Turns to the Source of the Sound) What the/Huh?

????: (Lowering the Two Girls Down Behind a Randomly Place Umbrella) Amy! Coco! Get down!

Wave: (Groans and Facepalms Herself Once She Immediately Figured Out Who the Culprits Are) Oh... my freaking god I hate them.....

Funky: Those your friends from over there?

Wave: Yeah. Friends who ate about to be eviscerated in the next few seconds once I'm through with them. (Gets Herself Up From the Towel her and Funky Were Sitting on) You think you could give a sec?

Funky: (Gives Wave a Thumb Up) Sure thing, miss thing. Take all the time you. But before you go, I gotta ask?

Wave: Hm?

Funky: That treasure hunt you want us to go on together.....(Starts Rubbing The Back of his Head Back and Forth) Do you....want it to be an actual date or-

Before he could finish his sentence, Wave suddenly gives Funky a kiss on the cheek before standing back up and smiling at him.

Wave: Yeah. It's a date. We'll discuss the plans going forward in a bit, 'Kay? (Winks at Funky Before Walking Off)

Funky: (Watches Wave Leave in Genuine Surprise as He Place his Hand as He Blushes Once More) ........Sweet.

Meanwhile Behind the Umbrella.......

Tails: ('Sigh') Honestly. Would it kill you girls to not lose cover that quickly? (Plave his Hand on his Chest) I think I felt my heart skip a beat or two-oof! (Suddenly Gets Pulled into a Loving Hug by Amy)

Amy: Those two are so cute together, Tails, we couldn't help it!~

Coco: Funky's laid back surfer vibe blends in with Wave's bossy attitude super well!~ Good thing too. (Starts Whispering into Tails' Ear) Home girl could DEFINITELY use a chill pill these days.

????: I heard that!!

The trio gets startled a bit as they look up to see Wave glaring down at them.

Wave: And did any of you dinguses forget how rude it is to spy on people in brod daylight?

Tails: (Smiles Sheepishly) S-Sorry, Wave. You've been hanging with Funky all day today that we could help but to spy on you a bit.

Coco: (Forms a Teasing Smirk on her Face) And judging by everything we've seen so far, I take it you're enjoying his company pretty well so far?~ Hmm~

Wave: Yeah, I am. ('Sigh') And before any of you even think about asking, yes. We are scheduled for a date in the near- OOF!

Amy: (Immediately Hugs Wave) OH MY GOD, CONGRATULATIONS!!!!~ I'm so very happy for the both of you!~ There's so much we need to prepare for.

Wave: (Winces in Pain by Amy's Tight Hugs) Prepare for what? My hospital bill?

Amy: Your date!~ I can tell by your looks alone thar your inexperienced. Luckily for you, I, Amy Rose, will be your guidance of love, passion, affection, suspense.....(Conyers Rambling On)

Wave: ('Ugh') I regret opening this beak of mines.....(Turns to The Two Tailed Fox) Tails, get your romance obsessed sister off of me!

Tails: (Shrugs) Sorry. Occupied at the moment.

Wave: Doing what!?

Coco: (Hugs Tails Lovingly) Getting hugged by yours truly! I promised I give him some today~

Tails: (Hugs Coco Back) I miss her hugs~

Coco: (Happily Snuggles onto Tails' Embrace) I miss yours more, bud~

Wave You think I give a damn!? HELP ME!

Tails: ('GASPS') Wave Swallow, language!

Coco: (Shakes her Head in Disappointment) And here I thought you were the most mature out of the three of us. Come, Tails, let's take our hugs and innocence elsewhere.

Tails: (Simply Nodded) Let's.

Wave: (Flabbergasted) Are you serious right now- HEY!

Tails and Coco walks away together in arms.

Wave: (Angrily Yells at the Kids) Where are you even going!? I swear to God, if you two brats don't get your butts back here in the next TEN SECONDS I'LL- (Continues Yelling and Sqwaking like a Bird)

Elsewhere in the Outdoor Bar.......

Sonic: (Starts Hearing Familiar, Angry Sounding Sqwak Noises While Sittting Next to Jet) Hang on. Is that Wave just now?

Jet: Yep.

Sonic: (Turns to Jet) Should we find out what's going on or.....

Jet: (Casually Fling his Hand Down a Bit) Nah. This is Wave we're talking about here. She can handle her problems just fine. (Takes a Sip of the Beverage He Ordered)

Sonic: (Shrugs) If you say so. (Tales a Sip of his Drink astime? Before Smirking at Jet) Rematch at a different beach next time?

Jet: You're on.

@caleb13frede

@bestpony666

@ma-lemons

@decibelcoatl

[ashcoveredtraveler]

Headcanon Dumping 3

It has been a while since I have done this, but I can't think of any cohesive post, I am working on a few things that can't be published yet, though I would like to post something so here we go. Link to the first two: [one], [two]

The lands around Hallownest and lands further away from any kingdom is chaotic. Time flows differently in some sections of land, causing bugs to live through generations within days of said land. Some sections of land are volcanic and radioactive while other lands are unlivable. (I am making a post about the lands outside of Hallownest and will expand further)

You must have a permit to create charms and can't create 'illegal charms'. What makes the charm illegal is if it greatly harms the wearer, is used for crimes, or has been created by unnatural means. The charms that would be illegal in the Knight's collection would be Gathering Swarm(could easily be used for pickpocketing), Fragile Greed(considered money laundering), and any of the Lifeblood charms(would be considered as continuous drug use/illegal drug use).

Dryya wears makeup. I mentioned it in my Great Knights Background post, but Dryya chitin is translucent so you can see pretty much every organ if you put her in front of a light. Though her armor covers her entire body, she still wears pigments on her face.

Xero has heeled boots. He is definitely taller than the average citizen, but he personally likes the heels. I like this too because I wrote something with him in it and I described his steps having a click with it.

Thistlewind doesn't have any eyelids. I mentioned it in this post, but I think that some moths don't have eyelids. It's a recessive trait as it isn't too helpful as many things could irritate it but it is helpful to traverse the dream realm as they can't fully sleep.

Genetically the mantis tribe consists of two types of mantises(unsure which ones to draw inspiration in real life from), however mantises outside of the tribe including orchid mantises can enter the tribe.

Centipedes used to exist in Hallownest and was the combination of a garpede and a stag, however since they are unpredictable they have been driven out and live in the Wastelands.

Monomon and Ze'mer are the only non-bug or non-plant creature that lives in Hallownest.

Speaking of Ze'mer, she is the only one of the Great Knights that is "old" before she was knighted. I recently made a post stating that she might have been saved from the effects of aging for a few moments but time went by in an instant.

Werecreatures exist and take a form closest to the bug while also being almost unrecognizable to the bug. An idea I had was the moths would have a form like an Owlbear.

Monomon is the only "normal" being that is immortal/extended life without any magic. It's just in her biology man.

For carnivores living in Hallownest, there are hunting parties that go to Deepnest or the Wastelands to get the food they need. Many hunt and sell the meat for ones you can't hunt.

Revek is older than Markoth and Xero and held both of them soon after they were born, but he is younger than the Seer.

Spiders and arachnids could have the longest lifespan of most bugs, but their typical lifestyle prevents it. So in my headcanon that would be Hegemol and Revek.

[schismusic]

Untitled piece on worried music (or some shit)

This piece has been floating around, shapeless and structureless, for the better part of four months now. I don't particulary care to give it any sort of unifying theme, or to put it into comparison with autobiography as I usually do. This will have to stand on its own as an ostensibly gratuitous exploration of various levels of preoccupation in music that I like. This being said, hope you enjoy the dive and you find something worthwhile to listen to. For those of you who hoped to read more about my very boring personal life, well, it's this way or the highway this time. I'm really bad at this, aren't I?…

Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark (don't worry, I will no longer subject you to this long ass name and will stick to the conventional acronym) live in this weird limbo where they might be among the longest-running acts to originate from the late '70s and yet at the same time are by and large considered by most a one-hit wonder. And to be fair, Enola Gay could very easily be the single best synthpop track ever recorded, thereby rendering other tracks from the same genre functionally useless to people who do not care about synthpop. I, however, care a lot about synthpop. But I also care a lot about a different, very underrated aspect of synthpop: its paranoia.

There's a really cool piece by Mark Sabatini on the Red Wedge magazine. The piece opens with a picture of peroxide-hair David Sylvian sitting in front of a Prophet-5 and is dedicated to Scott Walker and Mark Hollis, so it's basically just tailor-made for me right out of the gate. More importantly, however, it underlines the important relationship between some of the earliest bands in British synthpop and the concept of eerie in the Mark Fisher sense of the word, or some kind of uncertainty with regards to the future. The late 1970s sit at the cusp of a special time in contemporary history, not just because of what Sabatini notes, i.e. the passing of the torch between two decades that came to symbolize two completely different visions of the world (political, social, economic, cultural). The early Eighties would turn out to be some of the most tense years in the entire Cold War. A record like This Heat's Deceit is a direct byproduct of a terrifying climate of impending doom, faced with a dry sarcasm only the sense of rushing to an early grave could grant. In the Yellow Eyes post I also added a number of other examples, none of which strictly relevant to this exact post. One would think that OMD's preoccupation with being, at once, "ABBA and Karlheinz Stockhausen" would force them to a more sideways approach to these same feelings. To an extent, this is true, in that they very rarely discuss current-day topics in a direct way. I am specifically writing about, of course, Enola Gay, but take for instance a track like Telegraph. I remember sending it to Dog a while back and their reaction was quite priceless. Not only did they define it as "whimsical" and "faelike", wow!, but they also very acutely pointed out "something sinister about it just under the surface … it feels subtly dangerous".

This is technically true for the entire Dazzle Ships album. From the first moment we are in Prague, a weird place to be in the year 1983. A sampled trumpet fanfare loops around, a voice speaking in Czech, that same fanfare theme rearranged for a full orchestra. Then it hits you with a song titled, I shit you not, Genetic Engineering. The little children, the future in our hands, feel like more of a menace than they do a promise. They are to be controlled. International tackles rampant nationalism. Radio Waves echoes Kraftwerk and ties back into Telegraph. Of All the Things We've Made, a heartwrenching controlled melodic burst sounding like it could fit straight into the Disco Elysium soundtrack, reflects on the rift between Cold War superpowers with touching longing for world peace. And yet the most representative track of the whole lot might be Time Zones. A mess of jambled radio hourly signals: around the world in barely thirty seconds, codified conventional human behaviour presenting itself in the barest possible function, the capability to tell time. I've always been terrified of radio hourly signals. I remember car trips in the night, the mechanical nightingale chirping before the five boops right before the hour ended. I remember silent screens with sudden noises and an impersonal voice telling the time. So sterile it felt inexorable, the same way doom is.

On the other hand, this barely controlled element of quiet terror – a shift of the mask revealing an inhuman grin? – can at some point just burst into a more direct feverish sense of impending death. This is where a band like Sunrise Patriot Motion comes in. According to this incredible interview with Invisible Oranges, not only is every SPM release a piece in an ongoing story (so far there are two, so you're still in time to get in on the action before it gets too complicated), but Black Fellflower Stream – record number one – was actually itself the product of a driving obsession. In the words of Will Skarstad himself:

"For the first time ever Yellow Eyes was all over the place, but with this, we were like, twice a week, every week getting together. We got into this crazy routine, got obsessed, let’s finish this record. We were just so psyched about it."

Yes, the Skarstad brothers are once again involved. Not that much of a surprise, to be completely fair to you. Their guitar work with Yellow Eyes somehow manages to transcend the usual arrangement tactics of black metal, sounding less and less like cookie-cutter true-Norwegian imitators by the millisecond. While a record like Immersion Trench Reverie perfectly illustrates that, in SPM that same reality-warping harmony is bent in the direction of a post-punk-tinged beast, retaining however the powerful drive and pulse of metal. The brothers, ever so self-conscious, call it their "nu metal" project. I'm not inherently opposed to the idea: Deftones's Chino Moreno is notoriously a massive Japan and Duran Duran fan, Korn's Jonathan Davis got into makeup because of the Cure's Robert Smith. Where the fundamental difference with classic nu metal comes in is probably in the themes. Specifically, Black Fellflower Stream details the psychological journey undergone by a man who, in a religious stupor, comes to believe that he can dig a hole deep enough to find oil. Military symbolism, Catholic imagery relating to mystical ecstasy, incoherent autobiographical babbling, all tied together with the progressively clearer and unavoidable understanding (as per My Father Took Me Hunting in the Snow's liner notes) "that he is the sun, and, as the day ends, so will he."

Musically, in these two records, anything goes. Dungeon synth-inspired fake-ass FM keyboard preset sounds leave space to chugging heavy rhythm guitars, interspersed with yelled (more so than screamed) vocals courtesy of Andy Chugg and incredibly imaginative sampling and sound layering. The musical landscape painted by all of these elements, brought together in such a way that it feels miraculous for them to actually coalesce, is one of absolute military terror, where personal life and one's past are exploded into shrapnel, transform a delusional pretense into a mission of quasi-religious penance. One certainly wonders how long the experiment can go and how it can evolve. But I, for one, am glad that I got to hear these two records, and can't wait for any new music coming our way. Even if it means delving into horrifying visions of petrol war.

But what happens when this state of worry, paranoia almost, comes to essentially burn a hole into reality itself, detaching from average parameters of direction, time, weight, emotion? My guess is you get something close to the latest Ben Frost record. Not one to be intimidated by loud noises, Frost's body of work evolved from forlorn, cinematic guitar to progressively more Dangerous, noisy and aggressive territory. By the time A U R O R A hit it was hard to see where the project would go next. I would argue this was true for Frost as well: the vulgata around The Centre Cannot Hold (and its related EPs and singles) seems to be that it was a bit out of focus, speaking euphemistically. I don't disagree, regardless of my affection towards Threshold of Faith specifically. But Frost's arrival to a deviant, eldritch post-metal form sounds like it holds the key to a new fascinating approach.

The idea of "blending metal and electronica" will bring some of my older followers back to the Prodigy, or Nine Inch Nails, or Godflesh, or even Atari Teenage Riot if we want to force it a bit. On the other hand, some of my slightly less old followers will probably be catapulted into horrible traumatic nightmares of generic 2010-era metalcore bands incorporating keyboardists, brostep mid-range drilling FM modulation, overcompressed guitars and autotuned vocals. I'm proud and happy to report that, if anything, Scope Neglect swings more in the first direction than it does in the other one, but it's not a matter of sound as much as it is a matter of approach. Greg Kubacki (Car Bomb) provides absolutely crushing guitar work – not to mention Liam Andrews (My Disco) and his devastating bass guitar – sounding very much like abstracted takes on his main band's tracks. Yet the guitars sound heavily compressed, laser-focused on filling the mids in a very djenty way (look mom, I said djent in 2024, do I get an award for this?). This is, by design, as modern metal as it gets: and yet it sounds nowhere near as cauterized.

Not just because of the arrangements. And granted, the arrangements go a really long way to achieve the core idea of the record; but Frost's processing of the sounds turn Kubacki's cerebral bursts themselves into inhabitable, inhospitable spaces – bedrock for mind-crushingly heavy atmospherics – which are only then left to be filled with the listener's own imagination and a minimal number of sparse effects and austere melodies. Much in the same way as Autechre (and we're back!), this record comes to build the very spaces it describes, setting aside cinematic tactics – except, maybe, on closer Unreal in the Eyes of the Dead – in favour of an architecture of impossible terrors and, well, a worry and paranoia so imposing and totalising that it transcends discernible form, solid structure, anything but the (very few) bare and basic sonic referents it alludes to.

[auricbound]

man, it's been a while since i posted here properly. it's been an enlightening past two days to say the least and it's all got me reflecting not only on my time here but also the future for this blog, my lore, etc. so...

have a pretty big dump under the cut. this'll be long, i feel like i have a lot to cover. i dunno who'll even read it, but i feel it's worth getting out there anyways.

so. yeah! been a while. been a LONG fucking while. im 21 now, turning 22 soon; almost 3 years have passed since i put this blog in its weird hiatus state. prior to that i was active a lot, writing a lot - i genuinely was extremely happy. in a way, i still am - but that only came after a very, VERY involved few years of consistent therapy appointments and learning to write for myself to somehow see my ideas through instead of pushing myself to be here.

so. should probably talk about that. i wont go into mega details because it's *done* and i don't want to bring a carcass to the surface, but i *do* want to give it a gravestone.

september and october of 2021 are the two months i can easily say are up there on some of the worst of my entire life. a lot of my own personal experience with my muse - with goldie - practically *died* during that span of time as a result of the things that happened. some of you might have an *idea* of things, and if so, please - don't bring it up, don't ask me or anyone else about it. i'm making this post for me, for my OWN catharsis. if people don't like that, *don't make it my problem.*

i don't fear people knowing, i just... i don't want to constantly have things be brought back and forth. im only just now realizing that what i went through *was not a singular experience*, and that it was a pattern of behavior that i wasn't *alone* in. for the longest time, i thought i was genuinely and completely alone in the fact that no one could really attest to what i went through except for one person who helped me through all of it alongside my own personal friendgroup separate from the rpc. turns out, i'm not, and that has been incredibly validating and actually has done a lot more for my confidence in the past 48 hours than i realized it could.

i hate the month of hell. i hate everything about it. i hate how it made me feel, how i couldnt do my internship without being constantly pressured to do something else for the sake of other people, how i was constantly made out to be someone who caused the problems and couldn't compromise or apologize when that really, really wasn't the whole truth. i've spent *years* in therapy just to affirm that i wasnt crazy and that it wasn't fair to treat me - a then 19 year old - as someone who couldn't make mistakes and was expected to just KNOW things and norms despite it being known that i *didnt* get things immediately. realizing i'm autistic has been a struggle that lasted *years* and if i'd known it then, it would have made me more receptive to how badly i was being treated instead of just sitting down and taking it and BLAMING myself for it. i hate that i was talked about to other people after the fact even though i explicitly kept my struggles out of talks with rpc friends.

i hate everything about what happened that year. and i hate that it ripped ed away from me for a good while and sent me into a horrible mental state that i took a really, REALLY long time to recover from - and even then, i'm still not 100%. i still have triggers that send me right back to that year. i still have things that remind me exactly of all the shit that happened. my health issues haven't gotten better since that month exacerbated them, but they haven't gotten worse - just a way of showcasing recovery, i guess.

2021, for better or for worse, broke me. it stole away my love for writing and my ability to do art for a while. i finally picked up the pieces and now they're melted back together, but there's nothing that'll change how badly it effected me and jeopardized one of my deepest mun-muse connections i'd ever had because i was accused of not being able to separate mun vs muse.

but i'm getting better. i'm being better. slowly but surely, i'm building my own personal safe space filled with people who will actually confront me for the things i do wrong *without* being afraid to even TALK to me. that wasn't easy, not by a longshot - but i'm happier like this. i'm thriving like this. because of the safe space i've built, i've been able to write *thousands* of words for fics for this very lore and all the things that came from it. i've been living my best life on my artblog, @aubodied , because i decided i was GOING to enjoy things without all of this bitterness being attached to it, because i'll probably *never* get accountability for what happened to me. i'm learning to live life without looking back on all of it.

it's been a wild ride. and now i don't feel like i have to isolate myself anymore now that i KNOW i'm not alone. so someday - i don't know if it will be soon or not, but SOMEDAY - i'll come back here. i'll start writing again with other people, actively. until then, i'm always open to be reached out to to talk or other things. i want to reconnect, and even though that'll be a long process, i WANT to restore the feeling of home i made for myself in this rpc.

so... hi. i'm evy. i also go by vee. i use he/they/she pronouns (strongly preferring he at the moment), and i'm proudly autistic and navigating the world with those lenses. i love videogames and i stream sometimes alongside doing personal art for my obsession with edling as a ship. i'd be happy to be your writing partner someday. i'd be happy just to make rpc friends again someday. 2021 was awful for me, but i've finally moved on without fear of being able to talk about this - now i want to thrive.

so thank you for listening to me, if you read this. i hope we can talk again soon. and remember - i'm always here if someone wants to reach out.

[deanaferal]

One of the things I am most looking forward to when I am out of the country for 2 weeks is texting with my son’s father. We met through friends while I was in a horrendously violent relationship in my early 20s and he saved me by simply sitting next to me and talking with me about our shared interests when no one else would. The abuser I was with hated everything I was into and when Tyler would try to make conversation with him about certain things he would scoff and say “that shit’s stupid but she likes it, go talk to her” and then had the nerve to act like he was the victim when I had chemistry with the guy that he quite literally directed my way. One night we found ourselves yet again sitting together at the weekly house party, yapping each other’s faces off about who knows what and when the conversation lulled he quietly said “you know you don’t have to put up with that, right?” and of course I knew that but he was the first person to say it. Everyone else blamed me, my own mother told me “it takes two to tango” while the blue and purple evidence was wrapped around my neck. After he said that I nervously tried to explain to him why I had to put up with it, why it wasn’t a choice. I explained to someone for the first time the vicious cycle that had ensnared me. He told me I could live with his grandma if I needed to but that anything was better than where I was. He was the only person that helped me when I couldn’t help myself and we became inseparable, spending every single waking and sleeping moment together. We even worked together. Our longest separation was during lockdown. I spent 7 weeks in the hospital because it was such a high risk pregnancy. We were terrified for our own little life and then the weight of the entire world fell on everyone but it brought us closer because we talked all day long. We watched movies together every night and texted all of our stupid little quips and theories to each other. He has terrible social anxiety but through text he is like a whole different person. He is witty and funny and attentive and sends me adorable gifs and naughty videos. The past 5 years have been rough for us but the last year has been especially ugly. We have both had a hard time with our communication while adjusting to parenthood. We went from a couple that could and would talk through our issues easily and without discomfort to monthly explosive arguments over nothing and yet the arguments somehow always circle back around to every issue that we have ever had. I have been so disconnected from him this year and the loneliness of living in the same small space as the ghost of your relationship has nearly destroyed me and hurts so bad it’s impossible to talk about. I pretend the hurt lies in everything else going on in my life but the worst pain has been losing us and not being able to stop it. I miss the man who loved looking at me so much he rear ended another car after we went bowling because he couldn’t take his eyes off of me. The one who wrote me little notes all the time and handmade my birthday gifts. The one who left me cross-eyed and panting. It’s impossible to recreate any of it but I hope we can drill deeper into this love that we both know is there if it weren’t for all of the shit piled up on the surface. Maybe I can fly back to a more recognizable version of us.

[babygenius]

Inspired by this post

Anyway so my name is Welsh. It is one so easily anglicized that for the longest time I didn’t realize that we were pronouncing it the anglicized way and not the correct way.

There is literally nothing hard about my name. Nothing. You wanna know how I know? People can say Rihanna. It is child's play to add an 'n' at the end (Rhiannon). Literally so easy.

Yet, my entire life, I have put up with people saying Rihanna, and when I correct them and say "No, it's Rhiannon" they continue to say rihanna. At certain points, depending on how long I was going to know this person, I would just give up, because it wasn't worth my energy.

Every time someone couldn't pronounce my name, they'd say "Oh well can I just call you this? I'm going to call you this." Which is how I wound up with the dreadful nickname "Rhi" on both my swimming and basketball teams in middle school.

My first job, my boss couldn't be bothered to get my name right, so she laughed and said, "I'm just going to call you Ray!"

Out of the many nicknames people had assigned to me, I didn't hate this one, and I decided to go with it because it was easiest. Because at this point I still thought "I should make it easier on both myself and others and give them a shortcut".

My first semester in college, whenever a professor or student took too long to pronounce my name correctly, I'd let them get away with Ray. (I also use it as my internet name, but that's not because people can't get my name--most of the time--and is a different matter for me all together). This need to give people a shortcut lasted two years, until my spring semester of freshman year I said, "Y'know what? Fuck this."

Now I only use it if they're going to be acquaintances of a day at most.

At my job last summer I introduced myself to a patron and had to correct her, at which point she threw up her hands very exasperatedly and said, "Oh I don't understand what's with all these new-fangled names!"

I very cheerfully said, "Oh, it's not new! Rhiannon is a Welsh deity and has been around in some form for hundreds of years!"

She was a very sweet lady, seemed very surprised at this fact, and we both continued on our day. This type of interaction is not uncommon for me.

Last fall semester, my physics class had a substitute. (I would later find out that the reason he wasn't teaching the class in the first place was because he'd been suspended from teaching.) The entire class, he made a joke out of not being able to recall a simple name. The others found it funny, and while I didn't find it the epitome of humor I still laughed.

I answered a question, he asked for my name. (Worth noting is I had emailed this professor over the summer to talk to him about getting into his class, before the instructor was switched).

"Rhiannon."

"Rihanna."

"No, Rhiannon, just add an 'n' at the end."

"Rihanna."

I sighed and said, "It's like 'Shannon', just with a 'Rhi'." That, combined with the idea of 'Rihanna' is usually enough.

"Shannonrhi."

The class laughed. Now you're just being deliberately obtuse, I thought but didn't say.

After class had finished and everyone had left, I went up to him and reintroduced myself, mentioning that I was the student who had emailed him over the summer.

"Oh!" He said, remembering. He gave a very sheepish laugh and said, "Sorry about the whole name thing--" and I thought that was that and everything was done--"obviously if you were a minority I would have..."

I froze for a second, completely taken aback. Now, yes, I am ridiculously white, and afforded the privileges of that, but that's not the only type of minority that exists???

ALSO

EVEN MORE IMPORTANT

You shouldn't strive to get people's "difficult" names right only when they're a visible minority and you're worried about the cry of racism

You should strive to get people's names right because it's basic fucking decency and etiquette and it's rude otherwise.

When I visited Scotland in 2020 not a single person over there ever struggled with my name or got it wrong. I kinda miss that, honestly, because it's so fucking draining to wonder when you introduce yourself if you're going to have to capitulate and give them a nickname because you're too tired to deal with this shit today, or if you're going to be seen as the "stubborn" one who won't let people be wrong about something so basic as a name and move on.

I will leave you with one last story before my tl;dr. When I graduated eighth grade, we walked in a procession as a teacher announced our full names in alphabetical order. The teacher announcing for my section of the alphabet had never had me in class before, yet she looked at my name and asked me "How do I pronounce this?" She had no difficulty with my first name, and was mainly hung up on my middle name, which is Irish. I told her, she said it correctly. In the times leading up to graduation, whenever she felt like she'd forgotten or just wanted to make sure, she'd ask me again, and I'd tell her again, and she'd say it correctly again.

During one of the practices, another teacher said my name completely wrong. She even messed up my last name, which is pronounced phonetically and is a common enough last name that she's heard it before. I will admit that even I laughed, but only because up until that point? She had said my name correctly every other time. So when she messed up, everyone stopped their walking to raise and eyebrow at her and laugh, and she facepalmed and said, "Yeah, I don't know how that came out that way, sorry." And she said it correctly, and everything continued.

I felt very seen by both of those teachers, who didn't try to laugh it off and say that it was "just too hard" or "too unusual" or "oh it doesn't really matter, does it?" It was very nice.

For obvious reasons, I insist on knowing how to pronounce everyone's names, and I do not settle for a nickname unless they genuinely prefer the nickname as it is their chosen name.

TL;DR: learn how to pronounce people's fucking names correctly because it's basic courtesy and you sound stupid when you insist on not affording certain people that courtesy just because you've never heard that name before.

[xsylcuenco]

MERROCK TASK #9

THE INSPIRATION BEHIND...

Sylvia Ingrid Cuenco-Burke

—

Playing Next: 🎶

Crazy Kids by Kesha [x]

Buzzin by shwayze [x]

About Us by Brooke Hogan [x]

tw: drug abuse

Sylvia was the first character I created for this group. If you’ve known me for a long time, you know that I’ve used Vanessa as an FC for almost 15 years, so it started with an FC choice. I then built the character around that selection. Sylvia is very loosely inspired by Vanessa’s character Candy in Spring Breakers. You know, minus the homicidal tendencies. More just the party girl who can’t turn down trouble aspect. I wanted Sylvia to have had a, albeit much scaled down, history of getting into trouble.

Sylvia quickly became someone who was desperate to get her life together, though notorious for getting in her own way. A college drop out with a history of legal trouble and in need of a stint or two in rehab, nothing screamed middle child more. That was when her family was built around her. Something about Sylvia becoming the middle child later in life, simply clicked for me. That was how she ended up with her older brother being close in age but her younger sister being a near decade younger. Then came her parents, a well respected teacher and nurse respectively. It made sense that her parents had to be at least well-liked enough to get her out of trouble countless times over in Merrock for Sylvia to make it to UCLA, only for that move across the country to become an even more disastrous life decision. It would be after her return to her hometown, years into trying her damnest to become the responsible adult her parents wanted her to be, even if it were in her own way, that we would meet her. An additional influence to the development of her family was the fact that Vanessa is Filipino and I personally spent a substantial part of my life living with my Filipino relatives, just making it easier to relate to Sylvia’s upbringing to an extent.

As far as Sylvia’s interests go, I borrowed Vanessa’s love of all things spooky, horror, and Halloween. I too love the darker side of life and it just made sense for the girl who loves transforming others to love a holiday all about becoming someone else for a night. And may or may not be a witch. Her entire gothic home aesthetic is just my dream home.

Another large part of Sylvia’s story is her sexuality. This was largely inspired by my high school experience watching one of my closest friends be the only out bisexual, at the time where everyone simply regarded it as experimentation on your way back to heterosexuality. I, in modern day, choose not to label my sexuality, though back then and to this day I admire my friend’s confidence being publicly out and proud in the social environment of 2006. As far as her love life goes, Sylvia is quick to fall easily leading to relationships crashing and burning. Currently, it is for the first time in her life that she is making a conscious effort to allow herself time to get to know someone before falling in love. This has led to jokes and complaints here and there about loneliness as it is the longest time since teenhood she hasn’t been attached to someone. Though she knows that her attempt is in an effort to find a healthy relationship for once, she definitely isn’t opposed to a fun time in the meantime.

Additional inspiration was the late 2000s myspace scene queen wannabes that I grew up with. Let’s be real, if any of my characters can still recite crunkcore songs word for word it’s this bitch. And I mean that lovingly. I had plenty of friends to pull inspo from in this regard as the crowd I ran with in at that time was pretty much a bunch of Sylvias. Think somewhere between Snooki and Melissa Marie from the Millionaires. Who more appropriate to be the one who’s bedroom everyone got their hair bleached at at 15?

Following that idea, opening her hair salon was to be Sylvia’s saving grace, keeping her busy enough to stay out of trouble for the time being. However, she lives in the shadow of being the family disappointment and it’s never too far of a memory that the self sabotaging behavior creeps up from time to time, always lurking just under the surface.

[aetherspoon]

A not-so-simple relocation, day 0/1 supplemental.

This is a series of posts (at the moment in the past; we'll catch up soon enough), link to the previous post at the end.

Before we start with the blog (which will be my next post), I was asked about what the damage was to my desktop Naisa. I took a photo this morning (having to re-enact some of the damage), which I've included below along with a description.

ALT: This photo shows the inside of my desktop, named Naisa. It shows four of the issues with the computer, described below.

Starting from the top and working down:

The Thunderbolt 3 add-on card was out of socket, even though it was screwed in. This is because the entire chassis is bent. Mind you, this isn't exactly flimsy metal and this desktop case is known for acting (and looking) like a tank. The card is likely fine.

The retaining clips for the plastic front panel snapped. I have a whole lot of broken plastic on the inside from that, but it doesn't look like it did any real damage. This is, once more, due to the fact that the entire metal chassis is bent.

(not an issue) The CPU fan was actually in the right spot when I opened up the chassis, but I don't want to damage it further by staging it. Fan appears to be just fine.

The left tower of my heatsink was bent toward the right. This damage wasn't as bad as the other tower, probably because that's where the CPU fan was clipped to. This has been bent back some from where I found it so I could actually take off the heatsink to investigate.

The right tower of my heatsink was so far bent that it was slammed up against the right side of my case. Mind you, there was a LOT of padding and packing material in here, but when I opened the box it was all popped on the right side of the case.

(not labeled) Motherboard warping. In this photo, the heatsink isn't screwed in, but it was still screwed in when I opened up the case. When I unscrewed the heatsink this morning, I heard a pop from the motherboard trying to lie flat again.

(not pictured) Two of the legs of the case are missing. I didn't even know it was removable and I'm still confused where the heck it went. If you notice the case leaning a bit in the photo, that's why - I mostly took this photo top-down.

(not pictured) Chassis warping. Basically, anywhere screwed in was rigid, anywhere not screwed in was warped. This means some components that should be able to be easily removed (like the sides) can't be.

My theory as to how this happened was that someone dropped the box on its side... over and over and over again. One of the earlier drops likely caused the internal air bags to pop and deflate, creating a void between the right tower of the heatsink and the side of the case, and the other drops did the rest.

I still haven't powered on Naisa, for reference. Kinda need a heatsink to do that. And yes, there is no RAM or video card in this photo; I actually took them out in advance of the move. The video card is in my portable desktop (Shina, who I'm typing from now), the RAM is separated out for use in @kriatyrr's desktop.

Previous post:

[booksandwords]

The Boy in the Dress by Jonathan Butler

Read time: 8 Days Rating: 4/5 Stars

The Quote: You must tell Warwick's story — 'Mum' Butler (she died while Jonathan while writing this Warwick was her Uncle. If any line made me emotional it was this one, it was her death.)

Warnings: Homophobia

The first thing you need to know when reading this book is it is an investigation written from an assumption. The author, Jonathan Butler's assumption or familial belief that Warwick Meale was gay. There was no evidence. I could just as easily project my own sexuality onto him. Quite frankly that was extremely frustrating, especially because the author kept pointing out the ways ie saw himself in his great uncle. But yes this death did impact his life too. Warwick's homosexuality prevented Jonathan's mother from easy acceptance of him and his sexuality. His father's family had that generational homophobia I've honestly just come to accept. They'll all be gone soon anyway. His mother's diagnosis was hard that was just a painful disease. Jonathan does in the last chapter acknowledge some of the concerns I have with the book's premise, as does one of the interviewees. I do appreciate that he nearly acknowledged his naivete in the original now he has finished it.

This is not a bad book a does a good job to educate readers on some of the realities of queer culture in WWII but some of it was also nss (no shit sherlock). It does at times feel a little disjointed but that's kinda charming. It feels like what it is... someone's personal research project that they lost control of. There is an interesting writing style used. It is readable, with very short chapters. I think the longest I found was about 20p most would have been under 10. It combines two narrative writing styles in a single chapter. One is written almost from the prospect of being there at the time, though not 1st person. The other is J relaying the facts he discovered as they were relevant. It's quite a captivating way to read the story. Even if I did occasionally lose track of who the players were, there are a lot of them.

I like the conclusion that Jonathan comes to with the three cases he raises. They feel like almost the three options for Warwick's death. Though there uses some wriggle room on all three. Jack Lloyd's conclusion feels particularly stereotypical and disappointing for the family. His senseless death is excused because of gay panic. Even if sexual encounters at the time were slightly more fluid than people would like to think. We are talking about virile young men in their prime for the most part, what do you think was happening?

Have some comments and quotes.

I think this is book for those with an interest in queer history. But for those with an interest in military, it feels like it could add a whole other dimension, especially those younger readers.

There is a bibliography available online for those with an interest. I was entirely unsurprised to see serving is silence included and referenced in this.

Tom and Clyde and written in a way that makes you kinda what to know what happened to them, we do find out. We find out about most of the major players.

Look no further than Australia's Defence Minister Peter Dutton who, in 2021, scolded defence personnel for celebrating the International Day Against Homophobia, Biphobia, Interphobia and Transphobia. He ordered his department to stop pursuing a 'woke agenda'. — I really hate Peter Dutton. The thought that he may become our opposition leader now Scott Morrison has stepped aside distresses me greatly.

But what made the blood of many Australian men boil, more than anything else, was the Americans' relationships with Australian women. The Yanks were paid considerably more than the diggers and had nicer uniformer and a certain way with women - they knew how to dance and how to charm. — I mean can you blame them? The Americans were the peacocks with the finer plumage and women needed to make their nests somehow. Hard to do in the post war period.

History has a very real impact on people today. It's shaped how I see the world And so much our history would be lost without the nations archives. — My librarian self loves this quote. It is a joy to see someone acknowledge their societal import.

As a child I found it soothing to gaze at that image of a boy in a dress, It offered me hope that maybe I wasn't so different. The older I got, the more I struggled with an alarming feeling growing inside me, a feeling I couldn't name at the time. It was an urge to wear my sisters' clothes, play with dolls and be free of typical 'boy things': — This is the importance of Warwick to Jonothan. I think s many queer people have someone like this. But few have someone so close to them, so biologically connected.