#this is so joyously ridiculous

[cherrylight]

something ive noticed when i really like a character is i end up tearing up about them a lot. or getting really smiley and cant really look at them or hear anything in their voice

im really bad at expressing my fondness over literally anything but just knowing that a character that means absolutely everything to me allows me to express myself that much says a lot... like tearing up while smiling... wow..... i must really love you huh?

[minniesfiles]

FALLING OVER YOU

Loving you wasn’t something he’d ever need to be convinced to do. It was as easy as breathing.

❧ PAIRING; jeonghan x reader

❧ GENRE; fluff

❧ TAGS/WARNINGS; established relationship, alcohol consumption, drunk reader gets hurt, soft bf jeonghan, light humour, FLUFF

❧ WORDCOUNT; 1.7k

𐚁₊⊹

▍12 MARCH 2025

The wedding reception was in full swing. The grand ballroom shimmered under golden chandeliers while laughter and music filled the lively air. You had been drinking since the cocktail hour, taking pleasure in the way the bubbles tickled your throat, and the coolness of alcohol making everything feel lighter and funnier. By the time the dance floor opened, you were undeniably drunk. Happily, recklessly, and joyously so.

And Jeonghan? He stood at a distance, leaning casually against the beverage bar with a glass of whiskey in hand. The ice clinked softly within the glass as he swirled the drink, but his attention was elsewhere.

You.

You were so radiant as you swirled and twirled, laughing with unfiltered joy. Your dress flared with every spin, which messed your hair from the movement, but you didn’t care. Neither did he. You were too caught up in the moment with the bride and your other old school friends, dancing like no one was watching.

But Jeonghan was. He always was.

You looked free. So genuinely happy that it made his chest tighten in an unfamiliar way. It wasn’t often you let go like this. You didn’t have a big circle of friends, and sometimes, that quiet loneliness weighed on you more than you admitted.

But here? Here, you shone while being surrounded by familiar faces, old friends who knew pieces of you that Jeonghan didn’t.

When another upbeat song blasted through the speakers, you threw your arms around the bride as you both squealed and jumped in excitement. The way you moved with an energy so infectious and your laugh ringing out over the music, the other guests couldn’t help but be drawn in by your carefree spirit. Some even joined in. You spun too fast, causing your balance to falter for just a second before you recovered with a hearty laugh.

Jeonghan chuckled under his breath while shaking his head.

“Your girl’s having the time of her life,” one of his friends teased as he nudged him with an elbow.

Jeonghan cracked a small smirk, lifting his glass to his lips. “She always does” he responded.

Tonight seemed a little different to him. He saw you drunk before. He saw you let loose and have fun. But this was a bit different.

Maybe it was the nostalgia in the air with the way you clung to the bride like you were sixteen again. Maybe it was the way your smile didn’t wavered all night. Maybe it was just you being unrestrained and absolutely captivating.

And Jeonghan? He was just standing there, watching. And falling a little more in love with you.

When the song ended, you doubled over, breathless with laughter. You gripped the bride’s shoulders for support as you tried not to collapse from the high of it all. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol and nonstop dancing. The bride was laughing too, both of you hanging onto each other like teenagers at your first party.

And then, there he was.

You caught sight of your boyfriend leaning casually against the bar with the other guys. He held a drink in one hand, but his eyes were locked on you with that damn smirk. The same one that made your heart skip every time.

Your giddy smile widened impossibly more. You didn’t even think.

Without hesitation, you grabbed the bottom of your dress and hiked it up just enough to free your legs. Then you took off, running towards him like you were in some ridiculous rom-com.

Jeonghan straightened instantly, and his smirk vanished into something closer to alarm as his eyes scanned your legs.

Your heels. Your long, trailing dress.

“Y/n, slow dow—”

Too late.

Your heel caught the fabric, snagging on the hem with perfect, cruel timing.

Everything swayed.

Your body pitched forward as your foot twisted at an unnatural angle. Pain shot up your leg instantly. Your arms flailed out instinctively, but there was nothing to grab, nothing to stop the inevitable.

You crashed to the ground with a hard thud and a sharp, agonising squeal that silenced the space around you.

Jeonghan’s heart slammed into his ribs. The glass slipped from his hand and fell onto the bar top as he bolted forward, pushing past the other guys without apology.

You were already curled into yourself as your hands clutched your ankle. Your face was twisted in pain, and your lips trembled as you tried not to cry.

“Ow, ow, ow!” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut as the sharp sting started radiating from your ankle up your calf.

The music didn’t stop, and neither did the wedding festivities. Some people nearby gasped while some others laughed, but Jeonghan tuned them all out. His expression was pure panic disguised as calm, the way he always got when he was scared.

“Baby,” he crouched beside you as his hands were already reaching out to check your ankle.

“Are you okay?”

You cracked one eye open, lip wobbling as you tried to play it down. Tried and failed.

“I think my ankle is broken.”

It came out in a pitiful pout, and for a split second, Jeonghan almost smiled at how dramatic it sounded. Almost.

“Let me see.” His tone shifted, lower and more certain now. He gently lifted the bottom of your dress as he bunched it above your knee.

Your ankle was already swelling, flushed an angry red. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, careful not to touch the spot that looked the worst. “It might just be sprained, but we’re not waiting around to find out.”

“I didn’t even run that fast” you said with a slight slur, blinking at him.

“Why were you even running? Have you seen the heels you’re wearing?” he tutted.

“I was excited!” you whined, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “You looked hot standing there.”

He let out a breathy laugh — just a small one — as he slid his arms under you. “You’re so drunk right now.”

“I know” you nodded sagely before gasping. “Hannie! This is so bad. How am I supposed to dance now?”

“You’re not,” he said firmly, not missing a beat. His tone was firm and final, and it made your face fall and bottom lip jut out even further.

“But I love dancing!” you cried, leaning into him as he adjusted you securely in his arms.

“And I love you, but you’re not risking making it worse,” he said, kissing your temple gently as he stood up fully.

You squeaked at the movement and quickly curled into him like a koala, arms locking tightly around his neck and your cheek pressing against his shoulder. The music still pulsed in the background, but none of it mattered now.

“Guess you’re carrying me around like a princess for the rest of the night,” you mumbled against the fabric of his shirt, breathing in the comforting scent of his woodsy cologne.

“Guess I am,” he sighed, smiling despite the situation.

He carefully carried you away from the main crowd and into the quiet hallway just outside the ballroom, slipping through an open door and into a side lounge area that was set up for guests needing a break from the dancing. It was dim and quieter — just the way he needed it to be right now.

Jeonghan was painfully gentle as he lowered you onto the plush velvet sofa, moving as if you were made of glass. You winced as your ankle was settled on a throw pillow. The pressure was minimal but it was still enough to make your toes curl.

He sat beside you, his hand immediately finding yours. “Do you want me to find some ice?” he asked softly, brushing the hair from your face.

You nodded, “please…” your lips trembled.

He was up in a second, vanishing down the hallway like a man on a mission, and returned moments later with a small hotel ice bucket wrapped in napkins. He kneeled in front of you as he gently pressed the makeshift compress against your ankle.

You flinched at first, then sighed at the cool relief. “That’s better,” you breathed, slumping into the sofa with your eyes fluttering closed.

Jeonghan looked up at you, taking in the disheveled mess you were. Hair wild, mascara smudged from the tears you didn't let fall, lipstick faint on your lips after all the drinking and dancing. And still, his heart clenched.

“You know, for someone who can barely walk, you’re still kind of cute,” he said, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

You cracked one eye open and smiled lazily. “You think I’m cute even when I’m a drunk disaster?”

He chuckled and brushed his thumb over your cheek. “Especially then. You’re very honest when you’re drunk. And a little clingy.”

“A little?” you scoffed. You sat up and immediately threw your arms around him again, clinging to his torso like a sloth.

“You’re lucky I didn’t propose on the dance floor.”

He laughed into your hair. “You kind of did, actually. Right before you tried to sprint in heels.”

You gasped. “No! What did I say?”

“Something about making me yours forever and then calling me ‘Yoon Jeonghan, Lord of Whiskey and My Heart.’”

“I hate me” you buried your face into his shoulder.

He smiled and kissed the top of your head. “I love you. Every ridiculous, dramatic, beautiful inch of you.”

Your heart fluttered at that. And when you pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, his expression softened even more. His hand found your cheek, thumb brushing your jaw, and then his lips were on yours. Gentle and warm. The kind of kiss that didn’t need to rush, that you were safe here.

You kissed him back with the same quiet intensity, letting your fingers curl into his shirt. “Can we stay here a while?” you asked when you finally pulled back.

“As long as you want.” He tucked a stray hair behind your ear, his eyes lingering on your face like it was the only view that mattered.

A comfortable silence fell between you. He kept the ice pressed to your ankle, and with your head resting on his shoulder, you began to drift.

“Promise me you’ll carry me like this forever,” you mumbled sleepily.

He leaned down and kissed your temple again, arms wrapping around you protectively. “Even when you can walk again, I’ll still carry you if you want me to.”

“I do.”

Jeonghan’s heart skipped at the words — slurred and accidental as they were — and for a moment, he let himself imagine it: the real version.

Loving you wasn’t something he’d ever need to be convinced to do. It was as easy as breathing.

[storiesfromafan]

Moments #3 - Mattheo x Reader

A/N: trying to work through on and off writers block. So a small drabble to break the block haha.

I'm open to requests. Please feel free to give me dialogue or situations/scenarios in my asks 😊

Warning/s: fluff, possible spelling/grammar mistakes

You were thankful that your dear boyfriend wasn’t entirely a rowdy or angry drunk. Sure, when provoked he could throw words and fists, but mostly he was just a sappy, goofball. And you adored that.

He also said some silly or ridiculous stuff. It either had you shaking your head, or all out laughing. And, again, you adored that.

Even if, when sober, Mattheo pushed your buttons – good and bad – you still adored this Slytherin menace with your all.

You loved him, and he loved you. Plain and simple.

So here you were again, drunk Mattheo at your side with his arm around you. Another Slytherin house party to celebrate another month of learning down, the need to let off some steam.

You were more buzzed then drunk, still had your wits about you and aware of your surroundings in the common room. Mattheo was a different story. He was drunk, as you could see from the goofy grin on his face. Along with that relaxed look on his face and body language.

You were both enjoying the peace, watching everyone else around you both. Small comments made on students around you. The little giggles from him tickles your ear as he commented on Theodore trying to pick up a girl from across the room. An amused smile at him on your face.

Or how his words would slur or stutter. The small huffs of frustration when he tried to say a word but couldn’t get it right made you laugh. Your boy was definitely drunk.

Then his genius brain asked the following:

“Can you be my girlfriend?” Mattheo asked in the sweetest, drunkenly voice. Like an adorable child.

You looked at him and blinked. “I already am” you replied, partially amused and partially annoyed.

“Oh, lucky me!” He said joyously, burring his face into your neck. Arm holding you tighter.

You sighed, and then laughed. He’s drunk, you told yourself over and over again. He probably wouldn’t remember what he said. Yet, part of you wondered if he would have said it to any girl.

“Mattheo?” You asked softly.

He made a noise of acknowledgement but kept his face buried against your neck.

“Would you have asked any girl to be your girlfriend?” You asked curiously.

Mattheo pulled back his head, those chocolate brown eyes looking into your own, face a little more serious. And then he shook his head.

“No. I only want you, (Y/N/N). Its always been you" he stated calmly, childish seriousness in every word. And big puppy dog eyes.

You smiled, before leaning in and pecking his lips.

“Right answer" you said with a pointed look at your boyfriend. Then pushing his head away with a chuckle.

[pinkxpantha]

Kiss Kiss Fall in Love!?

furina x GN!reader

( 🌹 ) — PINK HYACINTH: who can kiss the other the most today? --- thank you @plebejus-argus for submitting the request!!

#: synopsis- furina plots and you follow. How are you in the "It's complicated" stage while being married?!

#: cw- you pronouns, 1.9k. words, arranged marriage, alternate universe (think manhwa nobility), kisses, You're in denial, cue that heracules song, your honor, they may be in love but they're kinda stupid. established relationship. not pr.

“[Name] this is ridiculous.” 

You sighed, “I know.” She's been complaining over this paper for the past three days. With Valentines becoming more popular each year, there's no shortage of valentines themed things.

“Seriously?! Another one!” Furina folds the magazine in her hand over, the news of so many couples scribbled all over another gossip channel.

Which also includes news articles, for whatever reason. “News is supposed to bring information to you!” Your ass. All it's bringing to you is the constant of a pouty partner.

Your wife, Furina, Isn't who you'd call the jealous type. But this..?

“Even Duchess Navia is on here! She's not even pursuing anybody!”

What other word could you use to describe this? 

Furina and you are in an arranged marriage – she certainly wouldn't be your first pick, and you'd probably be one of her last.

The pity of names bearing weight is that as soon as your mother and hers became ‘friends’, you were already packing your bags in anticipation for when she would offer your hand in marriage in your place.

That wasn't abnormal you've had your fair share of “Almost-Wed” because of your mother. But the rumors of Furina de Fontaine were.

“Rejected 200 marriage proposals.” You're pretty sure you heard that once. 

She's been called a brat, whiny, annoying. A multitude of more colorful words as well.

But even as you watched her, amused at her exorbitant reactions, you didn't see the vile labels you could just slap onto her.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” You asked, giving her a sidelong glance as she paused reading at the vanity. 

“Eh?” She echoed, turning to face you. Her hair clipped back with those blue claw clips you remember her obsessing over. You still remember that excited gleam in her eyes as she opened up the package. Seems like it hasn't lost its novelty yet.

“You have a problem with that… gossip channel, right?” You expanded, setting the book you were barely reading to the side. “So, what do you want to do about it?” You watched the gears turn in her head as she thought about your words. Bad sign. 

“Hm…” She rested her chin on her fingers, forming a ‘v’ shape. Then her eyes snapped to yours– then the book you abandoned by your nightstand. She smiled, a corner of her mouth raised higher than the other.

“Ma chérie, how do you feel about going to a tea party tomorrow?” 

“What's with the pet name..?” You sweatdropped. She ignored you.

“It's at some Baroness’ manor. It's perfect-! There'll be enough people so the place won't feel empty, yet too little to be hovered around every corner.. and she's quite the gossip too! Ahaha! I'm certainly a genius!” Furina rambled, her eyes growing wide with her presumably devious intentions.

“Just what are you plotting?” You hesitated to question. Just asking probably meant you were fated to be an accomplice.

“I'm dealing with the gossip articles [Name].” Furina said as though it was obvious. 

“You wouldn't mind helping me out a bit though.. right?” She looked at you, her eyes glittering in the basking candlelight, hues of orange sparkled in those blue depths. 

You tried not to sigh– again. “Yes... Furina, I'll help out.” You'd have to take some responsibility if she made a scene. You don't think you could experience more of a sour and gloomy Furina.

She cheered, her face painted in the warmth of her own ideas. “Thank you [Name]!” Furina chirped joyously. 

At least she wasn't pouting anymore. That's an upside.. right?

Why did you agree to this? Standing outside of the Baroness' Manor you suddenly became face to face with your grievances. 

Furina already detailed you on the “plan”. To amp up the ‘couple’ act. “Even though you were technically married, you didn't act like a couple.” She said something along those lines.

Ugh… it wasn't an expectation between the two of you to be all lovey-dovey with another in private. Honestly, you'd be miserable if you both held no love for another and still faked it. 

At least the neutrality between the two of you managed to grow into something like ‘Friendship’. 

Yet your dear friend failed to mention, this so-called tea party was an actual party.  Immediately standing outside of the manor in its grandeur you recognized the silhouette from the tens of articles about it.

To think Furina simplified it into ‘just a tea party’ is a bold lie.

“psst-! [Name]!” She called out to you in a faint whisper, her heel rested on the bottom rank of the carriage yet she made no move to exit.

The poor driver didn't understand why she wouldn't step down. You rolled your eyes at the realization.

“Furina, my dear.” You gave her your hand, to which she eagerly accepted. 

You leaned forward, in a small bow, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. You didn't look up--for fear her teasing expression would immediately ruin the immersion of the faux romance you were setting.

“[Name], you're too kind!” She stepped down, putting some of her weight onto your hand as she did so. 

You entered the doors to the mansion, pointedly ignoring the confused expression of your carriage escort who definitely heard the two of you bickering during the journey.

You don't doubt you'll see those expressions a lot today.

Furina was dressed well. A flowy and modest sundress with patterns of rainbow roses, and other flowers. You weren't much of an expert in that field– you think there might have been more types, but frankly you didn't care too much to investigate or ask. 

You were dressed to suit her, a similar pattern woven into various accessories you had on. 

You really looked like a couple. You stood to the side as Furina greeted the other guests. She was the more social of you two – and you'd probably forget everyone's name introduced to you by the end of the night.

This role you had to play– quickly became competitive… You'd place a quick kiss on her knuckles, a few minutes later she'd give you a chaste kiss on your cheeks.

This was getting out of hand– you two were being way too obvious with these fake affections. The scoreboard was at 16 to 14, with you being the latter. She took you off guard by kissing you twice-! On your cheek, then right at the connection of your jaw.

How were you supposed to respond? Who knows, you should've expected this–! But you still needed a minute in a powder room to fix the heat fixated on your cheeks. 

No. You needed revenge. You stepped back out into the lively atmosphere of the party. Most guests had migrated to the garden, save for Furina and the group of women she was talking to. 

Perfect. 

You walked up behind Furina, tucking a small piece of hair behind her ear, interrupting whatever she was saying.

You leaned in, pressing a small kiss onto the fold of her ear, covered by your hand cupping the area as though you were whispering to her. 

You pulled away from her, “My apologies for interrupting.” You said to the other women she was discussing with.

You quickly walked off into the garden, without failing to catch a glimpse of Furina's reddened face, and the teasing exclamation of the other noble.

That means the scoreboard is now… 16 to 20. Yes, you do think that kiss was worth 4 points. 

And then reality set in.

Oh my archons, what did I just do? You interrupted a random conversation between them – they could've been talking about some grimm dark subject and you just completely changed the mood..!

I'm sorry Furina. These are the consequences of a war like this.

The embarrassment of what you just did set in– for the next hour you'll avoid anybody in Furina's social circle– which is an all encompassing venn diagram. So, ultimately, you just retreated back inside after ten minutes. 

Either Furina happens to know your thought process too well,  or someone caught you slipping away, because she's walking right beside you.

It's quiet, that's abnormal. Nothing ever really feels quiet with her. But it is, and it's unsettling.

“Sorry.” You say, looking straight ahead. “For that, I mean.” 

Furina pauses, just for a second. You slow before coming to a stop. “You– you don't have to apologize.” The words tumbled out of her lips, like she hesitated putting her thoughts to words.

“Why?” You can't help but ask.

“ “Why?” who responds like that when someone says they don't have to be sorry?” She groaned, her eyes meeting yours again. 

Why did I ask that? You thought for a moment. Why you of all people. Furina stirs up enough gossip and rumors to satiate her hunger for attention just by going to a bakery occasionally. 

This entire idea was immature, and you still went along with it. Why?

“I just realized I like spending time with you.” 

Dumb plans to make dumb rumors is something you'd never do on your own. But with her…

These things feel novel– you'll reap the punishments and embarrassment of these odd stunts, but who could blame you?

With the boundary of romance already wrapped around you and tied into a union, what was the point of pretending to be something less together. 

“I didn't have much more to say, so I just asked what came to mind.” You admitted.

Furina, with her wide blue eyes and character that always left an impression on you, watched you. 

“Well, I didn't mind it– er, I mean. I asked you to play along, anyways.” She clarified, her fist raised to her mouth, shielding her mouth from your view. 

She looked nervous–? No-, genuine would be a better word. You want to see more of that. 

You chuckled,letting your eyes soften. She caught your look– so delicate–! She quickly started walking ahead of you.

“Furina? Where are you going?” 

“You said you wanted to spend time with me right? C'mon.” She said with a huff– you just shrugged as you followed her.

This feeling doesn't feel foreign. Still, you weren't going to name it.

BONUS- lipstick challenge w furina and you

“ Mmh– ‘Rina..” You groaned, your cheeks smooshed by her hands. 

“Almost done..” She said, as she tilted your head up. Pressing another kiss onto the base of your neck. This time leaving a clear mark of shimmery red– her own lipstick staining your skin.

You were leaning against the bathroom sink, with just enough visibility from the back to see your face covered in the marks she left on you in the mirror. Your arms steadied yourself on the sink, awkwardly holding the rim.

She was right in between you, her legs hatched over yours as she leaned in to kiss you again. “Mwwah!” She exaggerated the sound, much to your dismay.

“Are you done now?” You groaned, not looking at her eyes. 

Furina sighed, “But I only got to try one color..” 

You narrowed your eyes. “You shouldn't even have more than one color on you?” 

Furina only pulled her purse into her hands, quickly scooping up five more lipsticks.

“Furina.” You glared. She only laughed, it was light and airy, and unmistakably her.

“Ready for the next one?” 

By the time she's done you'll probably be unable to see your original skin color. You'll get revenge later. Totally.

[revehae]

mirage

pairing ↠ siren!ningning × (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, scientist! reader, siren!ningning, fucking machine, kidnapping

summary ↠ after deceiving a naive siren, you decide to use her as a lab rat to prove your theories that other fellow scientists had ridiculed - and maybe use her for other, less than ethical experiments.

wc ↠ 2.4k

a/n ↠ part 2/5 of the legend has it series!

don't like it, don't read.

there was a moment, within the first couple of blinks, where the room reeled like the staggering motions of a ship on violent waters, and there was no way for ningning to tell what was up and what was down. then the haze started to dwindle, the fog started to lift, and everything became clear.

the first thing she noticed was the constant of unfamiliar noises resounding through the open room she’d roused to, shifting in the constricted space of the laboratory apparatus she was strapped to. your back was turned. you were facing a panel, closely monitoring her vitals.

“you’re awake,” you declared joyously, without the need to turn. “everything went smoothly. it couldn’t have been more perfect.”

ningning recognized you, though barely. it was all coming back to her. she was not like most others sirens, much less reputable for her generosity and impressionability. when she saw you, flailing around in the ocean where humans like you didn’t belong, she knew in her heart that she had to help you back to land.

that was what she endeavored to do at least, but beyond the memory of clutching your soaked arm, everything went black.

ningning’s eyes fluttered. she was shockingly lethargic. “what do you mean?”

“the experiment. it worked,” you explained vaguely, as if she was supposed to know what experiment you were referencing. you seemed so thrilled, off-puttingly so. “they said that my claims were pseudoscience. and then they said that even if sirens were real, the idea that there was a process where they could be transformed into man was a mirage.”

your rants sounded ludicrous, until ningning glanced down and saw that the glimmering scaled appendage, the one her whole identity was compromised of, was no longer attached. in its place, she had a pair of slender legs and an equal set of feet with little toes she couldn’t help but wriggle.

panic immediately settled in after the shock and she exclaimed, “what did you do?”

ignoring her, you continued, “i would’ve said it’s unbelievable, but that’s not true. i’ve always believed it. even when nobody else had faith.”

to say you were overjoyed would still be an understatement. for years your peers in the field had ridiculed and critiqued your theories. nobody believed in supernatural entities and given your lack of evidence, you had nothing to support yourself. other than your dedication to not only proving them wrong in the existence of the supernatural, but proving that mermaid-like creatures could be made human.

ningning started to squirm, frantic. she refused to accept the bitter reality; that everybody that warned her about the dangers of her supposed naïveté had been right. unlike her fellow sirens, she had always wanted to see the good in the other world. where her friends took pleasure in baiting humans to their untimely deaths, ningning was contented with being a hindrance.

“undo it. undo it, please,” ningning whimpered, delicate water trinkling in an unusual stream down her cheeks. “i need to go home.”

“you are home, honey. i’m afraid that unless i work out a formula to redevelop your tail, you won’t survive in the ocean,” you explained. “even then, i would have to replace you to continue my experiments. and you wouldn’t want too many subjects, would you?”

of course, it would only make your experiments more credible, but ningning was appalled at the thought of her friends being submitted to the same forceful stripping of their identities.

ningning shook her head, whispering, “no.”

“i thought so,” you said, though your tone was sweet nonetheless. “besides, i can’t cut you loose now. i have more tests to run.”

“tests?” ningning echoed weakly.

spookily enough, you said nothing, only giggling to yourself while you faced your panel again. there was something so ominous about you, about the whole atmosphere, and all ningning could do was close her eyes and sing quietly to self-regulate.

the true nature of a siren, you thought, but didn’t say. her voice was lovely, as alluring as you thought it would be. you couldn’t wait to milk those beautiful sounds of her in a more lewd, indecent way.

somehow, ningning didn’t even realize that she was completely naked until she felt your cool hands at her skin and her eyes snapped open. you were adjusting a machine between the pair of thighs she wasn’t supposed to have, and she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be comfortable with it or not.

wide-eyed, ningning asked, “what are you doing?”

“i told you, honey. i’m experimenting on you,” was all you said. 

for half a minute, you just stood there, lips tutted in contemplation and a befuddled expression on your face. then, in the next minute, you had her flipped over onto her hands and knees, readjusting the restraints around her limbs into taut knots. ningning cried out in shock all the while, more than confused about what you were up to, though she was silently praying to the sea gods for mercy.

“please,” ningning whispered, eyes glistening. 

setting the dildo part of the machine back in place, you gave a half-assed attempt at consoling, “don’t worry. if my hypothesis is correct, this will be quick.”

ningning hardly knew what you meant. she was no stranger to basic scientific terms, knowledge and science was not strictly a human concept, but you were so vague in your elaborations that she couldn’t help but wonder what all was at stake here. she couldn’t fathom why you were hunting merpeople or understand how you were aware of their existence.

without allowing her longer than a couple of seconds to think, the machine came to life, and ningning gasped loudly when it started to plunge where you’d set it between her thighs. it wasn’t a comfortable feeling. it felt foreign and strange and unexpected.

“hurts,” ningning whimpered.

“it won’t for long,” you replied offhandedly, a clipboard in your hands for charting data you were collecting. this bit of the trial was more personal. it wasn’t to prove yourself to other scientists, but self-indulgent research. 

never in ningning’s life had she ever felt anything close to this, and that made the feeling all the more inexplicable. there was an unorthodox fullness now, a warmth beginning to brew, developing in the pit of her exposed stomach and stretching out.

and then the feeling inside of her was so peculiar that it became pleasant. ningning couldn’t even be troubled with attempting to understand the logic behind it, because all she cared about now was this weirdly good sensation making her thighs shudder like nothing. her sounds were obviously like that of a siren, as bewitching and sweet-sounding as they could be, and it was making you dangerously wet.

ningning thought of it like singing, except she struggled to control the way her jaw slacked and those airy noises escaped her. it was almost like her mouth had a mind of its own, lips parting and her tongue birthing the gentlest of cries.

to say the least, you were amused. the machine was on its lowest potential setting and already she was a hot mess, unraveling like she never had before. granted, you had manufactured it all by yourself, deliberately choosing to make it sizeable and installing more than enough functions to keep it warm and vibrating, but it was entertaining nonetheless and you had a hidden camera recording every second of this experiment. for research purposes.

you needed to go back and review the content of the video, just to jot down any important details you might not have noticed. it didn’t really matter if you planned on getting off to the tape a couple of times, too, because this bit of the experiment was just for you. it was worth savoring every second.

you had a real motivation for this whole situation, no matter how laughable it might’ve seemed. it went beyond your fascination with the supernatural. not only did you want to know if it was possible to turn merpeople into humans, but if they could be human, or at least resemble humankind, you had long wondered if they could get off the way humans did. and at the same degree.

some people would call it a gross, taboo fetish. others would tell you to roleplay and get it out of your system, because there was no way in hell that mermaids roamed the same earth as humanity. but none of it discouraged you. you always knew you were right. and the beautiful girl in front of you, reacting astoundingly well to having her cunt fucked by a mere gadget, was living proof.

though you wouldn’t admit it to her face, you had been so tempted to touch her while she was unconscious, hardly able to resist the titillating allure of a siren. she had been out for a couple of days, which was more than enough time for you to transform her into a human. the only reason you resisted was because you wanted her awake, conscious reactions. it was important that she was alive and awake until the very end.

ningning’s face was tensed with pleasure, a kind you had learned to recognize in spite of the fact you’d never seen anything quite like it before. “oh my… fuck.”

you asked curiously, “how does it feel?”

“i… i don’t know. it feels weird. but i like it,” ningning stammered, breathy moans penetrating the air between her sentences.

that much you could tell, just from observing her. at one point, you forgot that you were supposed to be taking notes, too absorbed in the shine on her skin from the fresh layer of sweat on her back and the shape of her ass. the resounding wet squelch accompanying the repetitive noise from the machine’s activity as it slammed inside her pussy. you found yourself upping the setting, watching in real time how ningning’s head tilted with a light moan.

“it’s so big, oh my god, it’s so big,” ningning exclaimed, a tremor to her voice. “make it go faster - please.”

you cocked a brow. “you sure?”

all ningning could do was idiotically bob her head, sweet noises blocking all of her words. you were surprised to see her want so much so soon, but you weren’t going to deny her desperate request, and quickly pressed a button on the hovering panel beside you.

if you had to describe it, ningning was like an animal. you could see the wild, untamed need glistening in her eyes, pouring in the form of liquid. the tears dripping from eyes and the arousal seeping from her cunt. she didn’t even know why she wanted it so badly - she just knew that she did. 

hearing her talk about the size of the toy made you giggle. it was intended to stretch her open, maybe a little more than she was prepared for, but ningning seemed to be taking it like a champ. almost like it was made especially for her. she was borderline drooling all over the place, mouth hanging open and her eyes rolling back. the throbbing between your legs was becoming unignorable, though this wasn’t about you right now. proving a point was your priority.

ningning was gushing, tight walls kneading the hyper realistic dildo as if it were an actual cock. she couldn’t help but pulse around it, addicted to the quickening vibrations and the warmth shooting through her like sparks of electricity. if anything, she was lucky that it wasn’t real. had someone genuinely been fucking her, they would lack the self-restraint to treat her like the human you’d worked diligently for her to become.

realizing that you hadn’t touched her at all throughout the entire session, you set down the pen and clipboard that had fallen useless between your fingers and paraded right over to her, instead occupying your hands with her tits. you couldn’t help but pinch her nipples, twisting them here and there, much to ningning’s unmistakable delight.

she was just so responsive. every touch was met with the most euphoric of honey-like moans that made you want to rail her into the next century. not only did her body twitch and spasm with sensitivity, but her face was as expressive as it was beautiful. every feeling she felt was plain on her features and she lacked the ability to conceal her true emotions. ningning couldn’t lie and tell you that this wasn’t the most ecstatic moment of her life even if she wanted to.

“my stomach,” ningning trailed, words essentially becoming useless.

not that needed to speak, or even think at all. not when she was just your lab rat. you knew what she meant regardless, and it didn’t take your observation skills to know that she was just shy of climax, standing right at the brink. you wanted to see her let loose. for your own sake, you needed to know what it was like.

you kept touching her, careful to stand clear of the camera so that you wouldn’t obscure your own view later on, but just close enough to fondle with her body in a way that had her on the verge of melting into your palms. 

it wasn’t very long before you got exactly what you wanted. the device made short work of her, hitting her in all of the right spots, and you stepped back to gape in awe at how intense her orgasm was. it was more than the tears falling down from her eyes and the shrill scream that parted her lips, though that was a major part of it. it was more than her body convulsing involuntarily. it was a solid minute worth of undeniable bliss and pleasure so raw that she could hardly even feel for a good moment.

it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. 

ningning wanted to slump after orgasming, because as pleasurable as it was, it was also exhausting and clearly knocked the wind out of her. but the toy didn’t stop, and she didn’t notice the strange fluid dripping out of her until minutes later. because like hell you wouldn’t program an ejaculation feature into the machine.

“fantastic,” you chirped, more than proud of what you’d done. you were beaming with accomplishment. “we need a couple more runs and i’ll give you a break.”

ningning’s eyes, wide as they already were, largened as she pleased, “no more. i can’t take it. it’s too much.”

“shh,” you crooned, eyes glued to the device that had yet to stop thrusting in and out of her. or maybe the fake semen that was oozing out of her. “experiments don’t end with one trial, dear. welcome to my world.”

[possibilistfanfiction]

CaitVi prompt: hugs

[ok s/o the one person who wanted a climbing au lmao. this rly isn't abt climbing, it's just a silly meet cute thru jinx's pov. i love sisters ur honor! also idk jinx is a cooler name than powder so that's what we're going with lol. incredibly minimal angst :)]

//

keep your helmet on this; finish dressing your knot that; vi triple checks the number of quick draws you have on your harness — ‘i have twelve, and there’s only nine bolts, vi,’ you say again— while you roll your eyes so hard your whole head moves. she sighs, as marginally satisfied as she ever manages to be when you’re leading anything. 

‘okay,’ she says, checking her grigri carabiner for, like, the fifth time. 

‘okay.’ you roll your eyes once more for good measure before you establish on a truly disgusting set of crimps. ‘climbing.’

vi gives a very serious, ‘climb on,’ and since she can’t see you anymore, you let yourself smile. even though she’s annoying and hates when you take victory whips — your favorite — you do love her: she takes your life seriously. 

the route is gross, overhung with tricky feet and big moves, but vi had lead it just before you and made it look pretty easy, even though it’s her style and definitely not yours. still, you’re not going to back down from a challenge, even though admittedly she’s way stronger than you: you’re light and unafraid of falling, which sometimes evens the playing field. 

you yell out anchor and then take just like you’re supposed to once you finish the route, refusing to shake out your arms even though you’re pumped as hell, and vi lowers you smoothly. you expect her to have her utmost, full attention on you, but when you turn to talk about your beta as you undo your knot, you see vi very quickly get off belay and then take her fleece quarterzip — a black patagonia which had been your best thrift find of the past year, in your opinion — off in an almost frantic, decidedly uncool way. it’s even more ridiculous because it’s freezing and all vi has on under her jacket is her favorite ‘queer crush’ tank from your gym. she smiles in your direction — a small, proud one — but then her grin turns shy and she looks at someone else. 

the someone else in question, a few feet away, gearing up, is, admittedly, hot — you gotta give vi that.

she has dark hair that manages to look chic even under her helmet, pants actually designed for climbing, and an arcteryx down jacket — the right weight for the fucking weather, at least — and even her chalk bag and shoes look kind fancy; you notice a pair of very neat camp slippers sitting next to approach shoes you could only dream of, the socks in them in a neat little ball. 

‘caitlyn,’ she says to you, offers her hand in a firm shake — not a customary fist bump — before she ties in anywhere or chalks up. you’re kind of confused why she’s walking toward the start, but you introduce yourself anyway as you pull the rope.

‘cait is going to clean the route,’ vi explains as caitlyn ties in, another smile exchanged. ‘her climbing partner is peeing, so i offered to belay if she wanted to lead it.’

it’s a pretty gnarly 12a, and also vi never lets you clean anchors, mostly because you don’t think all the steps with a PAS are necessary and you take victory whips without announcing them first, but whatever. it’s boring anyway.

caitlyn and vi go through the most intense safety check, joyously, almost, vi practically giggling when she looks at caitlyn’s figure 8, her hand hovering over caitlyn’s waist when she checks the loops on her harness, and you sit with a huff on a small rock near enough the route you can watch. 

you do everyone the profound kindness of staying quiet until caitlyn clips into the first quickdraw and vi very officially says, ‘you are on belay, cupcake,’ but then you’ve had enough. 

‘cupcake?’

‘she’s sweet,’ vi says, concentrating more on belaying than she ever has in her life with you. you’re not stupid, so you can tell she’s really just trying to avoid you seeing her blush. 

‘sure, sis.’ you watch as caitlyn does a pretty sick high foot to hand match and mantles calmly; vi shouts some encouragement. ‘did you get hot belaying me?’

‘what?’

‘very smooth, showing cait your best asset right away. thanks for waiting until i was done, at least.’

vi scoffs. not convincing at all. ‘the wind has gone down.’

‘we’re in a slot canyon.’

caitlyn sails past the crux, incredibly technical and very calm. it’s unfortunately impressive. 

‘nice, cait!’ vi shouts. ‘that was sick!’

caitlyn, to your dismay, pauses after she clips into the next quickdraw — your least favorite hold on the whole route, a terribly chalked up sloper — and turns to give vi a thumbs up. 

you groan, long and drawn out, and flop onto your back while vi laughs. you’re no stranger to girls falling all over themselves to impress your sister, but this is one of the few times where one of them has actually been impressive. 

when you sit up, a guy who was watching caitlyn climb looks at you and laughs, immediately somehow in on it all, you can tell. 

‘i was gone for, like, ten minutes,’ he says. ‘cait already found a new partner?’

‘in more ways than one,’ you bemoan. you offer a fist bump, correct and cool climbing etiquette, not some stupid handshake. ‘that’s vi, my sister. and i’m jinx.’

‘jayce,’ he says, then looks up. ‘is cait cleaning the anchor?’

‘guess so.’

‘i wanted to climb that route.’ he’s definitely pouting, which you never do because it’s extremely undignified, obviously. 

‘you snooze, you lose, i guess.’ you shrug. ‘plus, i think they’re both just trying to impress each other. horrible. worst thing to happen today.’

‘i took a whip on slab,’ he says, shows you a scrape on his palm. ‘so maybe second worse.’

‘nah,’ you wave him off. ‘big whips are the best, most fun part of climbing.’

he looks at you like you’re crazy, which, like, you certifiably are, but even your therapist thinks that climbing with vi — and therefore with a lot of gear and safety checks — is good for getting your “intrusive impulses” out without too much danger. could be worse, you always tell her, because it has been. 

you don’t let yourself dwell on that, though, not out here on a cold, beautiful day, your hands stinging a little in the best way, the sun sinking just slightly. vi might be annoying and so, so gay, but she’s your favorite person in the world, hands down. for now, it’s okay. 

caitlyn calls for slack and then quickly and neatly cleans the anchor, and vi lowers her carefully while she takes the quickdraws out. they’re, like, basically about to kiss, you’re pretty sure, when caitlyn gets to the bottom, before she even unties her knot. 

‘that was amazing,’ vi says, full of genuine awe, as if the both of you didn’t also just lead that route. when caitlyn brushes her hand against vi’s — in thanks, you guess — vi blushes hard enough even you can see it. you’re relieved for her, honestly, when caitlyn’s cheeks are the same shade of pink.

and so the day goes like this: caitlyn sails up a run-out slab route vi had sworn off every other time you’d come to the crag, mostly because she’s so strong she hates slab and it’s truly heinous — the best route here, in your opinion — full of mono pockets and the tiniest foot jibs. it’s kind of embarrassing to watch vi tremble her way up, especially after she lets you lead it after caitlyn, but you actually do belay her carefully and caitlyn and jayce both shout encouragement. vi sends it, even though she’s a total baby and asks you to take twice. jayce — also really strong; also terrified of slab, which makes you laugh — and vi convince caitlyn to end on another overhang, exhausting and pumpy, and you only agree to do it too because you know vi won’t care as much if you fall on it. you send it first, take a giant whip off the top that you know vi will be annoyed at you for, but when she lowers you the rest of the way, she just smiles and taps the top of your helmet.

‘you’re getting so strong, jinx,’ she says, the easy, heartfelt compliment making you feel all warm inside. vander and ekko insist that you’re kind like vi, that you share the same big heart, and sometimes you think they might be right.

‘great job,’ caitlyn agrees, happily and without anything underlying, and jayce echoes the sentiment too. all day they’d both asked you thoughtful and caring questions about your studies, jayce especially excited when you told him you were going to school for mechanical engineering, and about your friends, your hobbies, books and music you’ve enjoyed lately.

kindness is too much for you, sometimes, especially when it’s easily given and true, so you duck off and set about pulling and coiling the rope; gathering the rest of the gear split into your packs — vi’s, of course, much heavier whenever you’re in charge.

still, she stops her flirting — caitlyn is talking about how she’s a doctor, or something, and vi wipes her sweaty face with the bottom of her tank before finally putting her jacket back on, then telling one of her bravest firefighter stories — to say, ‘thanks for doing all of this, sis,’ sincerely before shouldering her pack.

‘don’t mention it,’ you grumble, trudging out of the canyon back up toward your cars. the approach is short but steep, so thankfully they’re mostly quiet. but as you load everything up — yours into vi’s old bronco that you’d both fixed up with vander; caitlyn’s into a brand new forester with every “wilderness” add-on you could possibly think of — they exchange numbers with the promise to climb again soon, both indoors and at another of your favorite crags too. you’re sure caitlyn climbs at one of the fancy gyms in town, one that you can only afford a membership to because vi is a first responder and you’re a student, and even then just barely. 

horrifically, maybe the worst part of the day, is that caitlyn looks unsure for a moment but then opens her arms, and vi enthusiastically, and softly, hugs her for an amount of time that's way too intimate for having just met a friend at the crag. you’re a nice person after all, it turns out, because you don’t make a single gagging noise. you do catch jayce’s eye, though, and he lifts a brow, fighting a laugh. you duck your head, but it makes you smile too. 

they longingly wave goodbye one last time, and then vi glares at you when you start to laugh as she pulls out of the spot and onto the dirt road out of the canyon, flooring it a little more than necessary. 

‘hey,’ you say, ‘why are you all —' you motion to her, the furrow in her brow and the downturned corners of your mouth.

she slows down, taking the next turn and rut in the road carefully, like usual. ‘i just — i don’t even know if she’s queer, first of all.’

‘other than, like, her expertise at pockets —‘

‘— jinx—‘

‘— and the fact that she was all over you for, like, three hours, she had a trans flag on her helmet,’ you offer, taking a little pity on vi. ‘and she drives a subaru.’

vi sighs. ‘she’s — i mean, you can tell. wealthy and smart and gorgeous. i’m, well —‘

‘hot and kind and also smart?’

for someone who’s always bugging you about accepting compliments, she’s terrible at it. you know she holds a lot, feels inadequate in so many ways, because she couldn't save your parents, and because she was incarcerated, and because you grew up poor, and because she can't fix everything for you all the time.

‘look, i don’t think anyone will ever be good enough for you,' you tell her honestly; it's important. 'especially some idiot who wears arcteryx.’

vi laughs; you don’t mention that it’s a little watery with tears.

‘you save people for a living. your muscles are insane. you help me with school, and refilling my meds, and you always pay rent on time, and we can even eat out now, whenever we want. you’ve read, like, seventy books this year. you like podcasts about nature, which i only know because you make me listen to them with you while we drive anywhere.’

it’s quiet — no podcast, not just now — for a minute or two, but then vi nods.

‘i guess you’re right.’

‘i’m always right. i’ve literally never been wrong.’

‘shut the fuck up.’

you laugh, delighted, and put your socked feet on the dash just so vi can swat them off. 

‘so, anyway, do you wanna tell me more about how caitlyn being perfect at pockets made you feel, or…’

‘i will throw you out of this car.’

‘you’d never.’

‘i might.’

you laugh; when she pulls onto the paved road you take her hand in yours, lace your fingers together, put on a song you love that she hates. she rolls her eyes but sings along anyway.

[lifesteal-headcanons]

Clown is infuriatingly good at new video games. Like you'll introduce him to a new game and he'll lose the first three rounds and then start winning, because not only has he learned every move and combo but also how YOU SPECIFICALLY move and devised a strategy to combat it.

Branzy is a chronic button masher with ridiculous luck and is the only person Clown can rarely beat at any video game. And he doesn't even notice, every single time Branzy's like ":O I won ! Wow!" he's legitimately so surprised.

This used to infuriate Clown but now he finds it endearing. He beats Branzy once and they have an entire celebration over it. Branzy did in fact joyously celebrate Clown's win... against himself. They baked an entire cake for it.

.

[foxybouquet]

💕🎁HAPPY BIRTHDAY OAKIE!!!!🎂🎉

@ramblingoak, you must be one of the kindest, most generous, most wonderful hype girl for others in this fandom (and in life, I'm certain!) and you've definitely earned a spot in all of our hearts! You never fail to make a day better for a friend, and you've always got something sweet or helpful to say.

Needless to say, you're also a ridiculously talented writer, a world-builder whose character-driven fics have me and so many coming back to revisit your stories many, many times again! What can I say, you're just wondrous! And I hope you celebrate today fully, joyously, and with as much generosity toward yourself as you show to others! You are magnificent!!! 💖💖💖

Oh, and The Cardinal would like to give you a taste...🎂

[nekohime19]

Heart behind the lie # 77 : Celestial courtship

Macaque goes to see the Brown Maiden to learn more about celestial courtship.

Macaque hummed in awe when he saw how much the immortal tree had grown. It's only been a few days yet it was already reaching quite a decent size. The bark was the color of the softest wood, exceptionally clear, so much that it appeared white under the sun's rays. The leaves were already sprouting, as green as a glimmering jade, swaying delicately in the mountain's fresh winds. No peaches were in sight, but with how fast the tree was growing, Macaque wouldn't be surprised to see the pinkish skin of the fruit anytime soon. 

The weather was remarkably soft, fluffy clouds were drifting peacefully in the bright azure and birds were chirping joyously while dancing in the sun-kissed sky. Macaque smiled, his lips slightly curling upward at the peaceful day. He liked it. He liked the smell of sun-fed grass, the sound of lively animals, the sight of shimmering azure. It was a great day. A perfect day to plan a courtship some might say. 

One of Wukong's clones was dutifully watering the tree, delicately pouring the clear water, taken out directly at the mountain's heart, on the tree's roots. Every gesture was made with utmost care. As if the tree was the most fragile treasure one could encounter. It might as well be. From what he learned (both by the Brown Maiden when she was still there and the clone) the immortal tree was quite the finicky thing. Too much sun would turn its treasured leaves brown, not enough and they would shrivel as if burned. Everything had to be carefully measured, from the amount of water poured to the number of birds flying near its delicate roots. Macaque was quite surprised that Wukong (and by extension his clones) had the patience for this. 

It's true that the golden-furred monkey gained patience during his journey, but still this particular task required a ridiculous amount of delicacy, so much that it was an art itself to be able to do it so flawlessly. Macaque reluctantly admitted that he was quite impressed by Wukong's dedication. It was rather… charming, he would never admit it though, Wukong had enough ego as it is. 

Once the clone was done taking care of the precious tree he stretched himself and massaged his shoulders, then he turned towards Macaque and chirped excitedly. The two other clones were sprawled next to Macaque. One was delicately playing with the tip of Macaque's tail, finding joy in teasing the little bout of fluff. The black-furred monkey let him do as he pleased, more amused than anything by the harmless play. The other clone was shamelessly nosing Sock's fluffy belly, diving in the soft chub with glee. Sock didn't even react, she was feeding off the sun, paws twitching occasionally. 

The gardening clone hopped towards Macaque and joined the other two, lazing in the soft grass. 

“So you're really going to leave for Heaven?” Pouted the gardening clone as he put his head in his palm. 

“Just for a few hours, it's for the courtship.” Hummed Macaque. He sent letters to Heaven a few days ago, the Brown Maiden left a way to contact her before leaving. Normally his presence in Heaven wouldn't be so easily accepted… But he used Sock's title to accelerate the process and make it easier. The black-furred monkey scratched under the lil lady's chin, he'll give her snacks for helping him so much. 

One of the clones reached for Macaque's lantern and filled it with magic. 

“You don't need to do this.” Sighed Macaque with an amused smile, the lantern was already quite full after all. 

“We never know.” Huffed the clone. 

“When do you think the tree will bear peaches?” Curiously chirped one of the clones. 

“Mmm, We're using time magic to accelerate the process, until now it's going quite smoothly. I think in a month or two we will be able to see the fruits.” Explained the gardening clone. 

They lazed around, profiting from the midday sun with half-lidded eyes and thumping tails. A gold-cladded heavenly messenger interrupted their quiet afternoon, Macaque grabbed the message they brought. He was happy to see that his request to visit the Brown Maiden had been accepted. He hopped to his feet, picked up the spoiled lil fluffball known as Sock, and grabbed his lantern. Before he could leave with the aid of his shadows, one of the clones asked :

“Can't you give us a goodbye kiss?” He pleaded with big puppy-like eyes. Macaque rolled his eyes with fondness, the other two clones chirped eagerly, agreeing with the request. They all tugged at Macaque with pitiful expressions. Those kiss-hungry devils! 

It was quite embarrassing to admit that he easily caved when confronted by three pitiful-looking Wukongs. He kissed the clones’ foreheads, it wasn't anything much, just a quick press of lips, yet the three clones sighed dreamily and melted. Macaque snorted at their foolish behavior, he waved at them before tightening his hold on Sock. 

“You never went in the shadows, right?” He hummed as he looked down at the lil lady, she didn't look scared at all. “Just don't be surprised.” Sock meowed, as if nodding to his words. Macaque couldn't help but give her a snack, she gobbled it down in one second, the lil glutton. 

Macaque grabbed his lantern and used some of the magic stored there to fall in the shadows. The darkness welcomed him joyously, lapping at his form with little else but eagerness. It felt familiar to sink in the back. He missed using shadow magic. He longed for the days he would be able to use it as freely as he once did. Sock pressed her fluffy face in his chest, her eyes dilating because of the darkness. She didn't seem scared, in fact, she looked quite comfortable snuggled in the monkey's arms. 

Macaque was spat out in the bright Heaven. He didn't bother wandering around, no matter how beautiful the place prided itself to be. He passed the gate, thanks to Sock's presence, and went directly to the place where the Brown Maiden resided. She was taking care of the immortal garden, as expected. When she caught sight of him she smiled, she excused herself from her sisters and guided him to a tranquil abode built near the garden, no doubt hers. The home was surrounded by young bamboos barely sprouting from the earth. The Brown Maiden led him inside, as always her step graceful, yet it held an undianable strength. She served him a hot cup of tea. 

“So… I take it that you want some advice on celestial courting?” She hummed as she took a sip of her finely crafted cup, her smile somewhat teasing. Macaque sweatdropped, he was truly obvious. 

“You said that celestial courtship would be the only valid one considering Wukong's nature… I don't know a lot about celestial courtship.” Admitted Macaque, he patted the chubby cat sprawled on his lap with a somewhat nervous smile. Sock stretched herself as much as she could and purred, happy to be pampered. 

“In the eye of Heaven, yes.” Replied the Brown Maiden. “Celestial courtship is less… intense than demonic courtship. It involves a lot less fighting and a lot more artistic practices.”

“Such as?”

“It usually begins with a serenade. The one wishing to court expresses their deepest, most sincere, feelings in a heartfelt song, usually played on a guqin.” Explained the Brown Maiden with a dreamy gaze. 

Macaque pursued his lips. He could potentially write a song, he already dabbled in theater and poetry, a song wasn't that impossible. He'll have to practice his guqin skills though. He hadn't touched the instrument for eons. But with enough practice he was certain that his old skills could come back. He used to be quite versatile back in the days, especially when he was waiting for Wukong. Somehow, he had always been attracted to art. 

“If the mate accepts the serenade, then the suitor is officially recognized. After that, the suitor offers a portrait of the mate they painted themselves.”

Macaque winced, his artistic skills when it came to paintings weren't the best. He always thought his cartoonist, rather angular, style wasn't serious enough to be considered good. But, in retrospect, Wukong did tell him, back in the days, that he liked his style. So perhaps he would like to be offered a painting… The russet-furred money seemed excited when they showed each other their drawings in their earlier therapy sessions… Perhaps it could somehow work out? 

“Then it ends with traditional offerings, such as fine silk or jewelry.”

Macaque scratched under Sock's chin with a pensive face. Contrary to what most thought considering his ego, Wukong wasn't that interested in gold and silks. In fact, he was much more interested in fruits and wine. Perhaps Macaque could prepare him a feast? Wukong would quite like a feast with the whole troop involved. Macaque wasn't the best cook but… he could get some advice. There was a show, if he remembered right, called Cooking with Chang'e, he could start there. And maybe even end the feast with fireworks! He knew Wukong was quite fond of those. 

Macaque nodded, quite satisfied with his idea. The Brown Maiden didn't add anything else, yet Macaque couldn't help but consider the idea of courtnapping. Even if Wukong wasn't demonic by nature, he still grew up surrounded by them. The traditional courtnapping was the dream of every romantics out there… And if he had to admit it Macaque found the idea of taking Wukong by surprise and bringing him to a room dedicated to his pleasures quite enticing. 

The Brown Maiden teased him a little bit, pinching his cheek like a cooing grandma, before letting him leave. He couldn't spend too much time up in Heaven after all. Before he could fall in his shadows the Brown Maiden offered him one of her old guqins, Macaque thanked her profusely, then he fell in the darkness. 

Flower Fruit Mountain was veiled by night, Macaque put down the lil lady. She shook herself and followed after him as he went back to his cave. The pitter-patter of her soft pads was almost relaxing. Macaque settled in his cave, the guqin before him. Sock crouched down next to him, loafing innocently, looking up at him with eager eyes. 

“... You want snacks, don't you?” Sighed Macaque as he side-eyed the loafing floof. Sock meowed innocently. Macaque couldn't resist, who could really? He grabbed the bag of snacks he saved specially for the lil lady and handed her some snacks. She gobbled them down in one gulp and returned to her loafing, her eyes squinted pleasantly, she looked content. Macaque snorted and turned back to the guqin. 

He looked at the fine darkwood and the pearl-white strings, he reached forward and brushed one of the strings with the tip of his finger. A clear sound reasoned in the silent cave. “A serenade, huh.” Mumbled Macaque. “How would you write a serenade?” He asked Sock. 

Sock meowed, her eyes still pleasantly squinted, not unlike those of a maneki-neko. Macaque hummed as if he understood what she meant. He didn't of course. He couldn't speak cat. But he liked to pretend he could from time to time. 

“I guess I have to talk about Wukong…” Sighed Macaque, he absentmindedly played with one of the strings, letting the clear sound echo all around them. He closed his eyes and let words spill from his mouth. “Maybe how beautiful he is?” Macaque pursued his lips, his cheeks lightly dusted with red, and side-eyed Sock. “... Forget I said that…” Sock opened her eyes and looked at him, Macaque handed her a snack to buy her silence, she eagerly accepted it, the little glutton. 

Macaque hummed, he should talk about his feelings… He knew that usually serenades only involved sappy declarations about how the suitor's love was eternal, or long descriptions of the beloved’s beauty but he wanted his song to be more than that, to be about them truly. He wanted it to be about the beauty of being in the sun's arm, the warmth of their shared feelings… But also about the wounds, about their mending hearts. He wanted it to be about their journey. He wanted to say he was in love, but he also wanted to say he was healing. He wanted to say that he was fine, that he was better, that they were better. 

Macaque played the strings, the melody simple, awkward yet utterly sincere. The first words escaped his mouth naturally, he wasn't even thinking :

“You were the light that burned so bright…”

And after that the rest came rather easily, as if the words had always been there, hidden in the depth of his heart, and the melody was bringing them out. The cave was filled with soft music, the more he plugged the strings, the more Macaque became used to the instrument. Sock's purring complimented the melody quite nicely. 

He spent the whole night crafting the song. 

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[moominsuki]

✎ᝰ GOJO SATORU ; — i hate how you make feel while simultaneously being so incredibly unfeeling

࿄ ! warnings - afab!reader, angst, lowkey reader is a meanie but she has reasons, okay! no other warnings :}

love is fruitless with gojo satoru.

he’s attractive enough - shiny grey-blue eyes, tall, tan: the whole shebang and it’s no wonder that girls fall at his feet for a single chance to bed the man. and, in a twist of fate: when a lucky girl gets to have gojo in her room, she’s met with the night of her life before he slips into the night, inconsequential and cold to the world - as if he hadn’t ran his hands on her naked body.

that being said, once you get to know him, you come to realise it is virtually impossible to be around gojo without wanting to pull your hair out. you once told him that you couldn’t be around him without feeling the urge to pull out handfuls of your hair. he laughed at that; bandage crinkling across his eyes and rows of bright teeth blaring haughtily at you.

even at moments that would require some warmth and thought-provoking soul searching, he’d look at you with the same expression he always gives - one of faux joyousness and a chastising turn of his lips poking fun at you because you felt something that happened to be the antithesis to what he’s feeling… if gojo could actually feel anything at all - given how he presents himself. how could you ever enjoy the presence of someone like that?

“what do you think of gojo, y/n-san?” asks utahime across the chabudai and you snicker, the sourness noticeable even in the tone of your laughter - if you could even call it that - ‘laughing.’

“arrogant. egotistical. one track minded. sometimes i want to wring my hands around his neck to get him to be quiet but-” (utahime giggles slightly at your words and you beam a little - only a little).

“it’s not fair to speak about someone when they’re not here to defend themselves,” interjects a voice and you can practically hear the pout in his tone.

“who said i was being fair?” you hum, a sip of ginger and lemon tea running past your lips and it does little to satiate the rumble in your gut and the rise of acrid bile in your throat. damn you, acid reflux.

“well, if we’re being unfair to each other, i think utahime should ask me what i think about you,” says gojo pointedly and he sits cross legged at the low table - raising what seems to be a brow under his many layers of bandages.

“for your information, we were not playing a game-”

“no, you can go on and ask him, utahime. i’m a big girl. i can take it.” you narrow your eyes at the white haired man when you say that and it’s somewhat laughable that even though he’s sat down, at your level, gojo is ridiculously too statuesque to look right at you - prompting what you can feel is a fiery blush erupt on your cheeks when he leans down. you want to kill him so badly. just who does he think he is?

“um… o-ok, if that’s alright with you then… what do you think of y/n, gojo?”

a beat passes and you hold down a swallow, a gulp, at the silence that ruminates the staff room. gojo looks away, as if in deep thought and you roll your eyes at the over the top act.

the man leans down again, elbows on the chabudai, “i think y/n is afraid. constantly running from anything that invokes even the slightest bit of fear and feeling in her bones,” and utahime chokes in disbelief, shaking the palpable heavy tension in the room.

“i don’t think i’ve ever met a jujutsu sorcerer with traits as undesirable as those- i mean, have you, utahime? talk about a red herring.”

another beat passes and you haven’t said a word; if the furrowing of your eyebrows and embittered scowl on your lips was anything short of an answer, though, then gojo had definitely hit a nerve.

unfortunately for utahime, if gojo goes low, you simply go lower.

“huh. maybe you think you’re right about me, gojo…” and he smirks, victorious in this little dance that you’re both caught up in - with utahime caught in the superfluous torrent of it all and you let a moment pass, you let gojo believe he’s won before you continue, “but it actually couldn’t be further from the truth. at least i’m deliberate about what i let others perceive about me. you want to know what i really think of gojo satoru? i think ‘how can someone as powerful and omnipotent as you be so unimaginative… so boring and so miserably orchestrated?’”

you look down at your hands, playing with the rings on your fingers and wanting to avoid the looks of the other two heads in the room, shaking in belligerent disgust and just second hand audacity.

“above all, though… gojo satoru is all too obvious yet not at the same time. it becomes neither cool or interesting when you pretend to be some suave and sexy man who strolls through life. no one knows gojo better than he knows himself and he knows that every night, when the capes and the glasses and the- the fucking bandages come off, all what stares back at him is what he attempts to hide and that’s when he really starts to feel. in the four walls of his empty room with empty eyes staring back.”

you finally look back up to see a pair of disbelieving eyes staring back at you and you can feel another boring into your soul. the bile sits at the back of your throat again and a pang knocks at the edge of your heart.

“i may be scared but you’re terrified and you go about your life like you’re not constantly thinking - worrying. if my problem is that i don’t let myself feel enough then, gojo, yours is that you pretend to feel and act superior to us normal people because you’re a fraud.”

you’re panting - breathless - by the end of it and your eyes widen, burning and brimming at the implication of what you’ve just said. your hands are clammy and the burning - the sourness starts to grow all over again. you can’t bear to look at gojo for even a second before stumbling from under the seat and storming out of the room.

consequently, that evening after the whole debacle, with gojo sporting a frown that didn’t curl up once even in the company of his students, does gojo let himself feel something. and it feels pretty damn good.

he just wishes that it hadn’t come from you of all people.

࿄ ! — all rights reserved © moominsuki. please do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend my work outside of tumblr. this is strictly prohibited.

[val-creative]

Fictober Day 19: “this is getting ridiculous”

Barbie/Barbie (Barbie 2023)

For @fictober-event Day 19 prompt!

Type: Fanfiction | Fandom: Barbie (2023) | Ship: Barbie Handler/Weird Barbie | Warnings & Triggers: None!

---

All throughout Barbie Land...

"Hi, Barbie~!"

"Hi, Barbie~~! Oh, you're so pretty♥~!"

"YOU'RE so pretty♥~~♥~, Barbie!"

"*I* was pretty once..."

"We know, Weird Bar--I mean, Barbie."

"Yeahhh... I know you know."

"This is getting ridiculous."

Stifling a yawn, Barbara wakes up. A memory, she supposes. A memory of being a Barbie from Barbie Land, not Barbara Handler.

"You up?" Gloria asks cheerfully, knocking. "There's a visitor."

Barbara, in fluffy bunny-slippers and a robe, wanders to the front door opened. A woman, taller than Barbara, motions awkwardly.

"You look different," she blurts out, grinning wide. "Hotter, actually."

Confused, Barbara squints sleepily. Then, it hits her. It wasn't so easy to tell without the colorful, chopped hair and marker-scribblings.

"Oh my gosh... Barbie...?"

"Nah. Just call me weird," the other former-Barbie says, no less enthusiastic. "Or Preminger. For some reason, I really like Preminger."

Laughing joyously, Barbara hugs her, feeling real warmth.

"Awh. Missed you too, Barbasaurs-Rex."

[vibratingskull]

Sparring session

“Au where you're an imperial officer (with a crush on Thrawn obviously 🤭)but you're bad at sparring, so he offers to give you "private lessons" in his quarters, and once there, things quickly become a little spicy..😄” - @ele-millennial-weirdo

Tag List

It’s a Thrawn x gn!reader

warnings : a bit of blood, nsfw implied at the end

You crash down, your breath cut out and a shockwave spreading through your spine. You stay laying on the floor, contemplating the ceiling and why you accepted to practice sparring given your atrocious level. You hear your opponent laughing joyously and the congratulations of the little crowd of officers that came in to train during their break. 

You breathe deeply through your nose, still down, when you hear footsteps and a head comes into your field of vision. Two red orbs observe you with indifference and a pinch of disappointment. The room goes dead silent. 

"Lieutenant commander (y/l/n), is this the true level of combat an imperial officer is capable of?" 

Reality finally hits you and you jump on your feet, saluting your superior. 

"Sir, I'm sorry sir!"

Thrawn slowly shakes his head. 

"Such a level is inadmissible. You are supposed to represent the excellence of the Empire."

You nod shameful. You can’t believe he witnessed you ridicule yourself like that. Not him.

"Yes, sir. One on one combat has never been my forte, this is why I continue training."

He looks at you from head to toe, then glares at the rest of the group in the back of the room. His gaze goes back on you, you feel yourself cowers under his burning sight. 

"Clearly the training is inefficient. You will come see me tonight, I will give you a private lesson. Let’s hope I can instill you some techniques by the end of it. You are all dismissed, go back to your posts.” 

You all head towards the door hurriedly. A hand grasps your arm as you walk past the chiss, squeezing it gently. Your heart skips a beat as you look up to him.

“Do not expect me to go gentle on you, you are clearly behind the rest of the group. It is an immense task that is ahead of us.” He warns with a steady voice.

You gulp, nodding once again. He releases you and you run after your colleagues, a little bit of apprehension in your stomach.

______________________________

You enter Thrawn’s training room carefully, hearing muffled combat sounds. You see Thrawn fighting with an electrical staff against his two DT-series sentry droids. You don’t say a word, sliding yourself on the side of the room against the wall, admiring the spectacle before your eyes. Your heart flutters at the sight of his athletic abilities. He gives blow after blow, escaping the deadly grasp of these droids with ease and agility, he manages to put one on his knees and use it as springboard to jump and deliver a powerful kick in the head of the second one, knocking it over. Your eyes widen, taking measure of his actual level in combat. You’re gonna get your ass handed to you tonight. 

“Override code : Rukh.” He orders 

The droids raise up and shut down. He stands straight, you see his shoulder moving with his heavy breath. You approach with his towel that you hand to him, he slowly turns towards you and takes the fabric with gratefulness in his eyes.

“Right on time Lieutenant commander (y/l/n), I permitted myself to do a warm up.”

He rubs his face and the back of his neck, fixated on you.

“I can see that.”

You squirm a little. You’re intimidated by his feat in combat, and terrified at the idea of fighting him, you’re not gonna lie. He towers over you, eyeballing your form and muscles.

You cross your arms in front of you to flex your biceps by instinct, to not show how intimidated you are.

“So. What do we do?” you ask, masking effectively your nervousness.

“You will take the staff and we will fight each other.” He shoves the weapons into your hands.

Okay…

You are bad.

But not THAT bad.

You take offense to that.

“Are you sure of you, sir? I won’t hold back.” You warn

“Good. Me neither.” He answers unfazed.

You frown. You both take a combat stance and without warning you jump on him. You crash the spear on the ground, missing him by some inches. He takes the occasion and kicks you in your exposed ribs, propulsing you against the wall. You hold your stunned head, the shock was hard. You glare at him with anger. He raises an eyebrow with a grin. He gestures to you to come to him, taunting you. Ire spikes in your blood.

You will need to feint him, you think. You stand up, cracking your neck bones to ease your muscles. You throw yourself at him, swirling the staff but at the last second you dive and aim at his feet with a circling motion of your leg, he jumps to avoid it and you sink the weapon in his stomach and ignites it.

Electricity flashes before your eyes, blinding you. You hear a horrible scream and smell the scent of burning flesh.

You stop it, realizing your error.

You hear a thud as his body crashes down, unmoving. You look at him, horrified. 

What did you do?!

That could count as a murder attempt. 

You toss the staff, throwing yourself over him, checking for a pulse, for a breath, for anything that proves he’s still alive.

“Sir?! SIR?!” 

Eyes closed, he doesn’t respond. You lift his black tank shirt to see his stomach. 

It’s not pretty.

You clench your jaw. What are you going to do?! 

Suddenly, a hand seizes a fistfull of your hair and yanks you backward. You yelp with surprise and pain. You’re projected on the ground once again and a body rolls over yours, you throw a punch without thinking,hit, and get one in return. You plant your nails in his side, drawing blood and tearing the fabric apart. A powerful hand comes and claps your wrist, forcing you to let go  so you try kicking him down with your knees but he doesn’t budge. Desperate, you raise your bust and bite down his shoulder, you hear him hiss.

It isn’t any noble martial art anymore but a crude fistfight of the street between bloodied and bruised people. You roll like that for a minute, in a messy battle of scratches and bites, ripping both of your clothes. You lock him between your legs to prevent him from getting back the upper hand, your waists pressed against the his. You only hear the sound of hiss, grunts and gaps coming from both of you and the taste of blood in your mouth.

At one moment, everything came to a halt. He managed to pin your wrists besides your head, flashing you his canines and growling at you. You growl back, shaking your arms to free them. You lock eyes, both panting and bruised, you see blood dripping from his nose, and you feel it in your mouth. You both stay still waiting for the other to do something or break the silence, but you just look into each other's eyes. 

You’re captured by those shiny red orbs.

And suddenly, something switched.

Your lips crash together in a messy, deep kiss. Your tongues meet and hug the other, you put your hands in his hair, disheveling them. He holds your cheek with one hand and slides the other under what's left of your shirt to your chest, caressing the skin. Your blood mix and your limbs tangle. You squeeze your legs, pressing him harder against your pelvis, igniting both of your passions. You roll again, helping him to get rid of what’s left of his own shirt, you caress his sides and chest, you lick the blood you’ve drawn with your bite and hear him moan. He kisses your cheek, caressing your back and sliding one hand in your pants to the heart of your cravings. You wave your back at the touch, gasping. You came back to your senses seeing the blood and the glass shards on the floor.

“Here?” You ask incredulously.

“Here, on the floor, like beasts. It suits us both...” He pants with desire and pulls you for another kiss.

@bluechiss, @al-astakbar, @thrawnalani, @justanothersadperson93

[namecantbeblank]

I forget that the eggs are actually. Eggs and every so often I get reminded of how ridiculous they look with no armor on. Like they look so stupid and remind me of little chubby toddlers joyously running around I love it

[candywife333]

Endlessly

A short one shot from my blurb bucket list. 

Tears dripped down my face in torrents as I realized what I had to do. I had to leave this man. He didn't love or respect me. He never even wanted to be a friend. This marriage had shown me how much more I didn't belong in his life. I know he thought he was above me. I could tell by how he treated me throughout the entire duration of our sad little marriage.

Our parents were family friends. His parents were business tycoons who wanted to marry their son Park Jimin off to me, a hopeless nobody according to Jimin’s assessment of me throughout our schooling years. He had treated me like dust beneath his shoe when we were both in the same middle school and high school. We ran in the same circles as my parents owned a fancy bakery in the nice part of town. My parents had grown up with his parents and though we were never anywhere as rich as them, my parents provided me a comfortable upbringing. Jimin’s parents were extremely kind people who never acted arrogant, even though they owned a chain of extremely lucrative hotels. 

At the age of 16 Jimin had a Mercedes Benz, Rolex watch, a separate outhouse next to his parent’s estate, and the attention of any girl he wanted. 

At the same age, I had my cat, Sugarplum, my teddy bear, Roosevelt, my parents and our bakery. That was enough to tell you how different we were from one another. For some ridiculous reason, his parents thought that I would be the best girl to marry him to. I remember that day when I was paralyzed by shock when I came back from school one day to find them all in my living room. His mother, Mrs. Park had cracked open a warm smile as she saw me standing in from of the door as I awkwardly greeted them. 

My mom came from the kitchen exclaiming in a voice filled with hidden glee, “ Oh, Y/N. Baby, you are back from school. How was your day? Got any articles published for the school newspaper?” I quietly responded, “Yeah mom, getting ready to finalize some edits.” As I walked into the living room gingerly, thinking it was only Ms. Park and my mom, Jimin came in with my dad and his dad from our back yard. Mr. Park chimed in joyously, “ Y/n , You have grown so much. What a beautiful girl you have become.” Jimin coughed silently, laughing under his breath as I grimly realized that he didn’t share the same sentiment as his dad. 

I couldn’t see what Mr. Park meant either since I had just worn jeans and a long sleeve top to school. But I had not been brought up lacking manners, so I replied, “Thank you Mr. Park. Very kind of you to say so. How have you been doing? Would you like me to get you and Ms. Park some tea and cake?” The brightly smiling older man chuckled in a pleased fashion, “Why don’t you do that sweetheart. We have some good news for you when you come back.” 

I walked into the kitchen puzzled at what he was referring to. I came back with the refreshments and set then down on the table as my mom said, “Why don’t we let Y/N first finish college and then we can plan the wedding?” I almost fell off the couch. I felt like I had been slapped by a fish. What the freaking hell did she mean marriage!?? Were they trying to sell me off like a week old salmon in a fish market? And to who? 

I exclaimed in a rather nervous tone, “Mother, what are you talking about? What is going on here?” Mrs. Park started in a placating tone, “Sweet heart we were just talking about when Jimin and you would be married.” I almost choked as I screamed in terror, “EXCUSE ME?!” Mr. Park smiled as he continued, “Darling don’t frighten Y/N. Sweetheart don’t worry. We will wait till you and Jimin finish your under grad degrees and then we will plan the engagement and get you two hitched. It won’t be immediate. You will have time to get to know him.” Jimin sat there in silence with a neutral mask on his face as my face contorted in terror, making me retreat upstairs in utter shock. 

I could hear my dad say, “What do you say Jimin? Ready to take on your dad’s company?” I could hear as Jimin replied in a resolute manner , “Of course uncle. Once I get my business degree and finish my MBA, I will be able to take care of Y/N properly.” 

Contrary to what everyone thought, Jimin proceeded to treat me like an invisible being throughout the duration of our college years as well. We had ended up at our hometown college which happened to rank pretty highly across the country. Though I didn’t agree with this supposed marriage which both our parents had come up with, I thought we would at least get to know each other as friends. And then maybe eventually as a couple if we suited each other.

Jimin and I had run in different circles all throughout high school and middle school. The same trend continued in college. He hung out with other extremely handsome and privileged guys who would also eventually take over their family businesses as heirs. Just as he did in high School, he had a loyal fan following of beautiful well bred girls whose sole existence in college was to trap rich man in marriage. Anytime I would come across him, I would greet him. 

He would walk past me as though he never heard me. The girls he would hang with would always be teeming around him in a protective pentagon. He sure was satanic. His behavior and the way he acted above all others in school  had not changed. To top all this behavior all off with a cherry, he was known around campus for having a new girl every month. His dipshit friend Jungkook,  had coined the term, “new flavor of the month”, to describe his excessively promiscuous and nonchalant behavior. 

To my utter dismay, this man who I had known to never be husband material, continued to exemplify that he was the farthest thing from husband material the world had ever seen. He was as similar to husband material, as polyester was to silk. I had had some faith in the fact that he may change his behavior initially. As we almost ended our college years, I could tell that he wouldn’t change and he would carry this dismal behavior into a marriage that I never even wanted.

I told my mother numerous times as college ended, “ Please mom. Why do I have to marry him? He has the pick of the lot, so many attractive rich girls. Why me? Can’t he just marry one of those.” I started sobbing in frustration as I bit out in desperation , “He doesn't even greet me mom. He doesn't acknowledge my existence. He hates me. I don’t want to marry someone who hates me. You know me mom. I can’t survive with someone who hates my guts, someone who disrespects me. I am the closest thing to a fiancé he has and he doesn't even want to be friends. Why do you and father insist on ruining my life this way?”

To my shock my mother  started crying as well as she morosely said, “ I am so sorry my baby. I didn't know that he was treating you this way. His parents and I always thought he was a well mannered child so we had betrothed you to him when you were barely 10. His dad has a really bad heart condition. And since his dad and mom were your godparents, they wanted you to marry him because you are such a good girl. His father may pass soon, and he wanted see his son wedded to you before he passed.” 

“His parents really think you are the best person for Jimin. You are solid, trustworthy, loyal, beautiful, loving and a hard worker. Nobody in their circles, no matter how rich or vain they may be, amount to you in worth.” Your mother continued in a serious tone, “But sweetheart, if he is treating you like trash, I will tell his parents that this won’t work. They can find someone else for his ungrateful ass.” 

You laughed for the first time in a long time as your mother started cussing out Jimin for being a turd. But knowing yourself you knew what decision you would take. Your godparents had been there for you since you were born. They had taken care of you and your parents when your parents were initially setting up the bakery. 

You decided it then and there. You would marry Jimin and be with him for a few years. When it would get unbearably hard, when you would feel like dying, you would leave him. Inevitably the marriage would die, it was just a matter of time. And, you would be giving your godfather the gift of a wedding for his son. 

I laughed bitterly as my sob fest ceased. It had been 5 long years since  your marriage to Jimin at the age of 21. His father had been elated to see him married off to you. They treated me better than their own daughter this entire time. It almost made up for how badly Jimin had treated me. But that's the thing, almost was never enough. Every person had their limits. And I had hit mine. 

I started packing away whatever clothes you could fit into the suitcases. It had been enough. His cold behavior towards me, the disrespect of having random women over at the house, the disregard towards me as a partner. The tipping point had been when I was about to visit him at his office and heard moaning coming from inside the room. 

In these five years of being married to him I had developed a prowess as a writer and published so many books that had became a best seller. Under your clandestine alias, Strawberry, I had now accumulated a personal net worth of 50 million dollars USD. This progress had deemed me financially independent. I had never touched Jimin’s money since the beginning of the relationship. Whenever we went to galas with him for the purpose of PR for his company, he had provided me money to buy clothes and accessories. 

I had always been a chubby girl who wore glasses and nondescript clothing. But Jimin and most of the world didn't know that I had a personal sense of fashion and beauty sequestered in my closet ready to unleash to the world once I divorced this ungrateful shit. The plan to leave had been in the works since the day of the wedding. Five years of building, brooding, working hard, and patience had earned me the right to a divorce. Even when I married him, he never tried to get to know me. 

I had tried to be his friend, taking care of him when his dad was sick in the hospital on multiple occasions. There were days Jimin didn't even get out of bed because of the sheer misery of his father’s condition. I had supported him that time, sleeping with him when he was lonely and crying in bed in the middle of the night. We had separate bedrooms, but he had come crying to my bed at midnight one night , sobbing profusely as he crumbled into my arms. “I--I-I can’t do this y/N, I can’t see him die with my own eyes. I love my dad, I can’t imagine life without him.” 

He wretched and sobbed for what seemed like eternity as he lay in my bed, snuggled in my arms as he tried catching his breath. I had stroked him on the head, patting him on his back, rocking him to bed as though he were a baby. At the time he had settled against me exhausted with his arms encompassing my waist. His face had burrowed into my chest as he fell asleep, tired from his crying fit. This incident had repeated itself so many times during the course of our marriage. The worst part was when he would act like a completely different person every morning after his crying tirades. He would seek solace in my arms in the nights and become like a cold, impenetrable version of himself the very next day. I was his emotional support animal, and he was the man I could never call my own.   

Reminiscing all those times made silent tears trail down my face as I faced the whiplash of memories. I had tried making him breakfast, packing his lunches, and had tried my hardest to at least be his friend if I could not be his partner. He would let me do all this for him, without appreciation or gratitude. He would eat my food and treat me like a stranger. Treat me like I had never existed. He never remembered my birthday, never concerned himself with my needs. 

When I had tried to kiss him on his lips, trying to making the first move one time, he had spelled out in no uncertain terms, “ You are only my wife in name. Don’t try to make this relationship anything else than what it should be, a PR relationship. And how could you think I would ever be attracted to you? Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror? Learn to take care of yourself. How could you continue to look like a slob your whole life? You’ve seen who I dated in school since we were kids. Did any of them ever look like you?” 

He walked away like nothing had happened, as I crumbled to the ground crying, injured by the one person I had tried so hard to get close to. That night had led me to understand that he was way above my league, at least according to his standards. If this was a PR relationship, then why did he cry to me at night? Why did he come to me wounded,  expecting me to complete him and in the same breath stab me in the heart for caring? 

I had to leave. I had to leave. I had to.

JIMIN’S POV

As most marriages go, they are usually banal affairs. Unexciting and monotonous. Duties and responsibilities littered my brain as I came home early. As I looked for the wife I would never in a million years have thought would be mine,  I stumbled upon some photos in her room. Nudes of a full figured girl dominated the frame of the polaroid photos scattered around the floor. I choked in utter shock at the slip of a stocking and a flash of her bosom. 

I picked up the photos, shocked at how beautiful they looked. This was my wife? The quiet girl who even in our school days simply seemed like the kind girl next door? She wore these stockings underneath her everyday clothes? My pants felt uncomfortably tight as I ventured further into her room. 

 Why were clothes littered all over her room? She was usually extremely organized. She ran our house as tight as a captain would run their ship. Everything was always cleaned and in its place. As I ventured further into her room, I saw piles of lingerie of shapes and sizes I never imagined on her bed. Where was she ? And what was she doing with all these clothes? If it wasn't for me, then who was she entertaining? Rage filled my gut as I couldn't imagine her betraying me with another man. 

On the bed, I saw official documents. One word caught my eye, filling me with dread, my panic continued to rise as a I clutched papers to my face with latent fury. It read,  “DIVORCE SETTLEMENT DOCUMENTS”.  I yelled in a full blown nervousness, “ Y/N where are you? What are you doing? What are these papers?!? Y/N?!” 

In the utter chaos wreaking havoc upon my mind,  I opened the door to her bathroom, and I almost fainted. Y/N was decorated in a red lace thong with a blood red bra and stockings to match. Her voluptuous stomach gripped the strings of the thong as her thick ass swallowed up the thong string. Stretch marks climbed in spirals along her hips as her bra struggled to house her breasts. Her thick thighs were encased in transparent red thigh high stockings. 

I couldn’t even hear her screaming as I continued to stare at her body in undisguised, mind numbing lust and adoration. I had never seen my wife naked. I had never even touched her or any other woman for the entire duration of our marriage. I may be a bastard, but I was loyal to my wife. And my dick that had been dead from the antidepressants and grief at my father’s condition, came to life. 

Y/N yelled in frustration, waving her hands in front of me to get out of the room. I marched up to her as the cloud of  lust magnified within me. She cowered away from me, placing hands to cover her breasts and pussy. I took hold of her arms easily, wrenching them to the side as I studied her beautiful body up close. If I had known this was how my wife looked like, I would have never made it to work on time every morning. 

What startled me was the sniffling though. I panicked as I looked up to see her crying profusely with the most abject grief in her eyes. I had hurt her somehow. She was usually the most neutral, cold faced girl I had ever come across in my life. Her facial expressions never showed emotion except for the times when I would hurt her, when I was so weighed down by the grief of my father that I would lash out at her.  Little did she know how elated I was to marry her the day of our wedding. 

Growing up an only child without many real friends made me a very unexpressive person, but when I loved someone, I loved them deeply. And my wife was clearly hurt so badly. I had hurt her so badly, that she was considering divorce. As it all clicked into place, I wrapped my arms around her and rocked her in my arms, soothing her, “Tell me what is going on baby? What is happening? What did I do to hurt you? Why are you trying to leave me?”

She tried batting away my arms that settled around her hips and backside. But I wouldn’t let her go. I had messed up so badly and once I saw those papers, my mind whirled with terror. I couldn’t survive without this woman. She was my life source, my rock, and she couldn’t leave me. She shouted out in a cracked voice, “ You don’t love me! YOU DON’T CARE FOR ME. GET AWAY FROM ME!! YOU CAN GO MARRY SOME SKINNY CHIC WHO YOU HAVE BEEN FUCKING IN THE OFFICE DAY AND NIGHT! NOW LET ME GO, YOU TURD!!

I grabbed on to her tighter, confused at her accusations, “Baby what are you talking about? I haven't touched any girl in the five years we have been married.”

She wheezed in disbelief, “Liar, why are you always doing this to me? You are as cold as a stone, you freeze me out when you feel like it. And I heard the moaning coming from your office, and all the women you have been parading around my house, cheating on me with. Well I am done, I have been done for a long time. I am clearly unattractive and ugly and not in shape. I want to leave, I want a divorce. I do not want even a penny from you, but I have to leave. You are not healthy for me. This is not a healthy marriage.” 

All of her words hit my like trucks as I begged with her, “Sweetheart, I never meant to make you believe that I have been disloyal. All those women at our house were my business partner’s sisters and family. That’s why they would greet you when they came in to the house.  They run a family led corporation , and all of them had come here for business meetings.” As she became quiet, I continued, “ The day you came to see me at the office must have been when my PA twisted her ankle. The physical therapist and I were both in the room with her. She was moaning in pain because it was a completely avulsed tendon. I am so sorry I made you believe otherwise, that you are not the only woman in my life.” 

“I know how horribly I conducted my self in school .  You always saw me around girls and so you thought that behavior of sleeping around would continue into our marriage. I would never do that to you. You are the only one who truly cares about me. And I was a shallow piece of shit for making you fell unattractive. The day I put you down for your appearance, was the worst day of my life. Dad was getting his prosthetic heart valve replacement surgery and I was so stressed. Mom was crying and I didn’t know what to do, that I lashed out at you when you had nothing to do with it.”

As her crying ceased, she tried to get out of my embrace, but I wouldn’t let her. “Baby, please give me a chance to make it right. I know I have treated you dismally, less than human. But I love you, I have loved you since the day we got married. I just never knew how to show it to you. You have always been so independent, self sufficient, never relying on me for anything. I almost thought you never needed me. And the grief made me an even worse person than I thought I was capable of being.” 

Y/N took a huge gulp of air as she exclaimed, “I don’t believe that you are attracted to me or that you love me. You have treated me horribly for years, and I never even felt like we were married. I felt like a roommate who you just used for emotional support. Then you would freeze me out and insult me when I tried to help you. Anyways, you like skinny girls who don’ t look like me, why don’t you just go and find one. I will divorce you and you will never hear from me again. And I will find someone who loves me, who thinks that kissing me and showing affection to me is not a chore.” 

I started panicking. I was ridiculously attracted to her from the beginning, but the depression medication had literally made me a sexless creature for the past five years. But now she thought that I was not attracted to her, when in fact it was the medication which I had recently been tapered off of by my doctor. What if I couldn't convince her that it was all the medication? She would leave me, and I would crumble into tiny pieces, because I couldn't live without her. 

I explained in a frantic voice, “Baby, it was the medication. I was on antidepressant medication for so long and it killed my sex drive so badly. I couldn’t even have sex if I wanted to, it killed my erection. How can I show you that you are a goddess to me? I don’t even deserve to be next to you. I loved you since we were in 7th grade. But I got so nervous around you that I couldn't even speak when you greeted me. Whenever you would talk to me, I literally felt like dying of nerves. I wanted to talk to you so much when we were going through school, but my anxiety crippled me.  I never wanted to make you feel undesirable.” 

As she looked at me in indecision, I swooped down to kiss her passionately against her lips, opening up her mouth to receive my tongue. I gripped her exposed butt and squeezed, “Please let me prove to you that you are all I will ever need.” I nuzzled my face against her neck, biting and pecking against it as my hands massaged up her hips, trying to find the string to her thong that I could unravel. Her eyes twinkled with what looked like hope as she whispered, “You can try.”

------Please let me know if I should release the rest of the smut for this one shot. 

[finch-velutina]

Gear 5 Foreshadowing/Analysis

One of the things that absolutely delighted me about gear 5 was how natural it felt for Luffy. It was Luffy to a T - which is what makes it so incredible! That's the best part of him :)

I learned about Gear 5/Joyboy/Sun God Nika like a month after starting One Piece, and I was just able to see how every element of the show was building up to this.

luffy vs. kaido fight spoilers under readmore

GEAR 5 GEAR 5 GEAR 5!!

Part of the reason it feels so natural is because of how it shows that the Devil Fruit's Awakening builds on Luffy's growth and understanding of his powers, particularly his use of all 4 gears, which are all incorporated and clearly referenced in the Gear 5 fight:

Gear 1- Luffy interacting with lightning!! Because since we have known since Skypiea, rubber is nonconductive, meaning luffy isn't affected by it. Luffy grabbing the lightning strikes and using it to catapult him around? That's gomu gomu no rocket! On top of that, he manages to become the lightning and swoop towards Kaido (in a move that looks a lot like Python). He's able to combine his base rubber powers in a wild and wacky way, and absolutely loves it :)

Gear 2 comes in play in this incredible screenshot from the fight after Luffy restarts the Drums of Liberation. Gear 2 is also about controlling bloodflow and breathing - and by extension, the heartbeat!! Its all there. Thank Gear 2 for luffy's auto-defibrillation skills.

Gomu Gomu no Giant is the logical progression of Gear 4 Boundman, (which builds on gear 2 and gear 3 as well). It's like a version of Luffy without the additions

Gear 3: ... Yeah, this one is pretty obvious.

But the most important aspect of Luffy it brings in from his previous fights is his silliness. From the shocked face Crocodile gives him when he sees Water Luffy to Kaido's eyes popping out as he uses him as a jump rope. Things that seem meaningless, like his Gomu Gomu no UFO move. (I had to include this because I thought about how Joyboy it was from the moment i saw it. He's just joyously having fun in weird ways!! <3)

The magic of Gear 5 is in how everything from before comes together and combines seamlessly, which brings us to section 2:

Foreshadowing of Joyboy

Luffy has always been the sun. Tanjiro has nothing on Luffy for Most Sun Coded Anime Protagonist. Luffy is from the East Blue on Dawn Isle. One could say he rose from the East. The beginning of his story is called romance DAWN. This is from other posts that delve into it more, but luffy has been liberating people from the start- Koby, Zoro, Shells Town. Thats just how he rolls, it's part of his existence- Luffy will see someone oppressed, think "Is anyone going to help them free themselves?" and not wait for an answer. Punching a celestial dragon? That's ridiculous. But Luffy was made to do ridiculous things.

Skypiea, which is where we learn about Joyboy, has Luffy facing off against Enel and winning easily because of his nonconductiveness - the true god destroying the false one.

On Fishman Island, he frees Shirahoshi from her prison and promises to take her to see the sun. Another aspect is the symbol of the sun pirates being changing the celestial dragon's slavemark into a SUN. Luffy also takes away the giant shadow of Noah hanging over them.

Dressrosa? Known for it's SUNflowers.

When Luffy loves and accepts sanji, freeing him, the sun literally dawns on him. One of my fave moments with him. (To go into sanji & his wano arc i would need a whole different 1000 word essay on him. Bbg u are simply so fucked up)

Wano arc amps up the dawn = freedom references by 100. referencing the dawn 24/7, having luffy become a slave

Luffy has always been free because he is himself.

[santacoppelia]

Cackling and snorting.

One of the most powerful things that I got from my tendency to "mimic" characters I like after Good Omens s2 is... snorting.

Yup. I tend to laugh really loudly since forever (well, I also speak "like you have an integrated loudspeaker", according to my brothers). My mother and father worked really hard on "making me less loud" (socializing your neurospicy kids during the 80's was hard) and by the time I reached adolescence I managed to not laugh as loud, not cry and mostly compact every emotional reaction ('ello, years of therapy, again!)

After getting in a better emotional and mental space, I started crying, and also recovered my "boisterous laugh". However, I was totally self conscious about snorting. "It makes me sound ridiculous". "It is childish!". Therefore, I tried not to snort most of the time. I even stopped laughing if I felt a snort coming.

But, on Good Omens s2, Anthony J. Crowley, that "cool, collected, aloof" person-shaped eldritch entity, snorts EVERY SINGLE TIME he laughs. He not only has a small, goofy laugh... HE SNORTS joyously!

I've found myself snorting much more since discovering that, and I find a lot of happiness in rediscovering that silly happy noise coming from myself. That's an acting choice that I should be thanking David Tennant for, but it really comes with the character, so I'll leave it in the "Anthony J. Crowley" mindspace.