#we have to be truthful here with our info

[yujeong]

Yes Korn and Faisai have known eo for years - they’re cousins (Fasai’s father is Korn’s uncle). Why isn’t anyone talking about this ?😭 or is there any other interpretation ?

Haha anon, I don't know how to tell you this, but they're not actually cousins. "Uncle" isn't only used as a word to describe a relative, but also as a kind of honorific title - someone you respect, who's also older than you in age.

(That's how I've understood it, pls correct me if I'm wrong)

I don't blame you, I had fallen for that at first, too. I kind of wished it were true, because it'd make Korn's family a little more fucked up in a delicious way 😌 I clearly craved a little bit of KinnVegas energy in 4 Minutes I guess haha.

But yeah, they're not actually cousins. And in case you'd like further proof:

I'm pretty sure Fasai wouldn't suggest to Korn they do something that isn't practically possible now, would she?

[unproduciblesmackdown]

further thoughts re: [idea behind mitb] & [winston billions]

that ofc the specific situation of mitb of even being so thrown into a seismic shift in perspective in this moment, brought on by like whoa what if actually being alone / rejected by the person who was always on my side, like winston in canon can't ever be in that position lmao like even with the continual [people turn on him] moments, nobody was ever actually on his side in the first place & people only Turn from [less of negative attention upon him] to [more]

But then pointing to like wait, one thing, the very ending: all you know about me is my name / awesome party, i'm so glad i came [cha cha cha] like assign that to winston's departure from straightforward in-office employee with the fun details of: • we don't even know his name, rare No Last Name Ever Bothered With for any recurring character, much less one who's been around for seasons. just quant things • probably only any party b/c he arranged it for himself (what arrogance, as opposed to being pointedly ignored / denied baseline acknowledgments as deserved) & • nonzero people pointedly refusing to attend b/c they hate him more than anything, as opposed to the people who do attend to express hostility & contempt as per the I'm The Ultra Cool Guy Normal Person(tm) ideal of "if i interact with / observe someone & consider them such a Lesser / Other to me & issue whatever disparaging cues, any third parties would totally recognize my superiority" uhh nnnyeThis guy, umm ohh kayyy lol. scoff sneer etc. Extremely epic yes

also shoutout to billions for both Needing to show us that "uh lol winston can't just Get to Leave" expression of contempt / vicarious power trip But also that's not enough lmfao like he really can't get to leave, casting its yugioh card of "essence of [most dangerous time in an abusive relationship? trying to leave it]" like again, You Don't Get To, then Uh Oh winston in leaving is not only acting without permission but in doing so is denying us our property! time for some assaulting & stalking & killing :) figuratively we swear but who would know what nonexistent mitb happens :)) wheee haha Hell yeah so affirmed & fulfilled in our power & superiority. wretchedly like why is this also what happens with wendy & axe at the end of s5 as axe resents wendy not acting like his property / without his permission & gets vindictive & aggressive & it's like okay well with the stalking & surveilling in the mix i'm sure wendy will now finally get to be Done. wrong! reveling in romance (dragged over glass) as wendy is sooo special that she can still just Understand & Choose Loyalty even as unideal as axe was, truly, she's powerful enough to handle axe :) unlike other bitches who'd get all hysterical & give up. selfish

also speaking of the "you have to pay attention & listen to how this guy feels for 5 minutes" like with pointed [my personal perspective & considering Just Like Real Life] i don't like, especially with canon, really have that for winston in terms of like that even if people Had to listen, which would be the only way they did b/c winston Does express how he feels at all & it gets pointedly ignored / suppressed / punished, like they wouldn't change their perspective lol. when i consider "well winston could hope they would, think they might, want & try for this" like i don't consider that it would work lol, definitely not based on canon dynamics, where Just Like The Perspective Of The Show Itself like winston can seize some opportunity & express himself "perfectly" but it wouldn't work b/c everyone's already decided to think of him as inferior & not a person & will continue choosing to do so / choosing to play into the idea of their superiority rather than letting it be threatened, much less embracing that & questioning themselves / that concept. Oops Same Essence once again when like all that's questioned about Power is that only Meritous, Truly benevolent godlike individuals ought to have it :) no problems detected when wendy is really exactly the same as prince b/c of course she'd have to be when it's just "nothing wrong with seeing people as inferior, in fact it's inevitable & necessary & good & we love it, just so long as Really superior people are correctly arranged in the hierarchy over Really inferior 'people' who i'm not really hurting or wronging or using when they bring it upon themselves & are wrong in their lesserness"

so like shoutout again to "billions is like, the song 'be more chill' in be more chill, seeing the squip as the protagonist like yes wheee yay tell jeremy everyone's right to treat him as they do & he brings it upon himself & should be dead & twist his arm however you want to get this" only i think in bmc you can interpret that the squip really does want to "redeem" jeremy by forcing him to become a different person & all & just conform to the norm & play & win the game....billions might Supposedly want that, framing wendy using & toying with other people's lives & feelings as she sees fit as Necessary, Correct, & Magnanimous, but really like oh no wendy doesn't even really "fix" people b/c welp there's still the hierarchy of ranking on everyone's Inherent unequal personhood & we can't all be the most special best person in the world like wendy but she can Redeem us a little bit if we're not the lost causes too inferior to recognize & defer to Her superiority. plus she's busy with the enrichingly complicated & important cases of: enabling someone like axe :) like billions is just into the power trip really of like "wow yeah you're correct in judging that person as inferior & bringing it upon themself" & "really" fixing someone by killing them & replacing them with an allistic person e.g. isn't actually of that much interest b/c then the power trip would, theoretically, be done with. no thanks

meanwhile perhaps some restraint for this last point brought on by Oops already verbalizing a lot but the one thing i did only just think of was like, obviously winston comparable to jeremy & the material surrounding jeremy But i was like oh hey i kind of think of the winston & tuk dynamic as glimpsed in canon & extrapolated upon thusly as respectively michael & jeremy esque & sure never framed it that way to myself lol. this duo of like the ultimate losers around but who can kind of obviously also bond / deliberately unionize over this; winston as the "well they'll treat me like this either way so i may as well do my own thing fully at least" more confident one while tuk is similar enough & it's like oh i can be not just myself but More myself with this person than maybe i even am Alone alone & we like each other & have fun & i'm encouraged &c & so on, being a bit more "ah jeez :( i do kind of try to see if i can manage to play by the rules better & maybe be killed less," & even sure have thought about the conflicts that could arise as like "yeah it's good if winston being around me can kind of insulate me & involve encouragement But Then Also downsides like, can it feel overbearing if just feeling eclipsed by winston's personality, if feeling like yeah following winston's lead helps me but what if that defines me too much / what about getting by outside that, can encouragement from that Confident Vivacious personality feel pushy?" all very much like that conflict jeremy & michael have of jeremy wanting to change things up & figure out his relationship with himself & what he can do through that a little bit more, hardly able to express that to himself much less michael, michael who doesn't know quite what's going on & but of course is also affected by how people treat him, as we did know but yknow impossible to have real serious feelings & act vivacious & cheerful, & feels supported by his relationship / dynamic w/jeremy too....wouldn't be the same b/c there's no high school scifi plot & also like, no [um frivolous teen problems are for teens only. adults don't do the bullying & popularity & insecurity &c] as has been said lol like it doesn't just Stop, but that like they Are older so probably could have an at all easier & more successful time talking through things & understanding their own feelings, but always fun to imagine some drama & conflict sure lol like even just a period of some Confusion / Mixed Feelings like ah new good friends with tuk but maybe tuk withdraws / avoids winston a bit then to try to take a breath & get perspective from a step back, maybe it can seem to winston like we're having a good time what a promising new relationship but then sudden/confusing irritation with me / some apparent rejection, an easy issue is just like as seems to be canon lol like well nobody's known winston for eons here, just met, winston's Already got the independently big personality / doing his own things mode, could be hard to warm up to that / even Understand it, especially in [hierarchy play the game kill each other it's them or you] bullying world anyway. however also tuk has ben who is also sort of relatively on the Less outwardly bold seeming side who is also there to buffer or insulate or intervene, But that can also just be [same issue parallel to jeremy/michael] lmao like does it mitigate it or exacerbate it or bit of both / varyingly, depending. do we all kiss at the same time

[ailesswhumptober]

Prompts for AI-less Whumptober 2024

As promised, we're bringing you the official prompt list of AI-less Whumptober 2024 today!

We have 31 days of excellent whump prompts, with three prompts per day to pick from, fun themes, and 10 alt prompts to play around with. We hope you enjoy! Additional info + plain text versions of the prompts can be found under the cut.

FAQ and Rules

What sort of content can I create for this event?

You can create whatever you want (fic, art, edits, etc). Any fandom is allowed, as well as OC stuff. NSFW is allowed, but please tag your content accordingly! The only thing not allowed is AI-generated content.

Do I need to make 31 things to participate?

Oh heavens no! You can make as much or as little content as you like, skip days when desired, or combine prompts (so for example, write something that covers a prompt from day 1, 2, AND 3). You don't have to do the days in order either, go wild! To be considered a 'completionist', you only have to make sure that at the end of the month, you've covered 31 prompts from 31 different days, but whether you do that in 31 works or just 1 is up to you.

What are these alts about?

If none of the three prompts of a particular day are your cup of tea, you can swap them out for an alt prompt of your choice.

What are these themes about?

Just a little bit of extra fun for the mods. Like last year, we'll be handing out various badges for people participating in the event. A full list can be found here, perhaps there is a special badge or two for people who can't be completionists but who do manage to finish every single day of a specific theme ;)

How do I tag and is there an AO3 collection?

It suffices to tag your work with #ailesswhumptober for us to see and reblog it! Please also tag nsfw, since we'll be using that tag too. Tagging the day is optional but does help the mods along.

There is an AO3 collection to add your fics to here.

That should be all. If you have any additional questions, check our pinned or hit us up in the ask box. Or join our discord maybe, whumping can be a great group activity!

---

Plain text versions of the prompts:

October 1 - Torture Tuesday

public torture/public use, stress position, “If you cry, we’ll go easy on you.”

October 2 - Whumperless Wednesday

Unfortunate fall, car accident, “Don’t move. You’ll be okay.”

October 3 - Trauma Thursday

Shared trauma, survivor’s guilt, “It’s not your fault.”

October 4 - Fright/Freaky Friday

Painful transformation, non-consensual body modifications, “You’re a monster.”

October 5 - Sensory Saturday

Overstimulation, migraines, “I can’t take this anymore.”

October 6 - Surprise Sunday

Multiple whumpees, self sacrifice, “I’m the only one who can do this.”

October 7 - Medical Monday

Field medicine, running out of supplies, “Hold on, we’re going to have to improvise.”

October 8 - Torture Tuesday

Rope burns, gagged, “You’re so much prettier this way.”

October 9 - Whumperless Wednesday

Hypothermia, heatstroke, “You look pretty pale.”

October 10 - Trauma Thursday

Self worth issues, pushing away a loved one, “You don't need to earn this.”

October 11 - Fright/Freaky Friday

Hallucinations, truth serum, “Why would you even say that?”

October 12 - Sensory Saturday

Isolation, sensory deprivation, “Can you feel me? I’m right here, whumpee.”

October 13 - Surprise Sunday

Whumpee using themself as bait, defiance, “Take me instead.”

October 14 - Medical Monday

Seizures, concussion, “See if you can follow my finger with your eyes.”

October 15 - Torture Tuesday

Waterboarding, removing body parts, “Don’t break down on me yet.”

October 16 - Whumperless Wednesday

Drowning, hostile environment, “I don’t know how anybody could survive that.”

October 17 - Trauma Thursday

Abandonment, misunderstanding, “Why did I even think you cared?”

October 18 - Fright/Freaky Friday

Mind control, possession, “Everybody will end up despising you.”

October 19 - Sensory Saturday

Disassociation, losing a sense, “I wish I could get you back.”

October 20 - Surprise Sunday

Enemy/Stranger to caretaker, accidental de-aging, “I’m absolutely not qualified for this shit.”

October 21 - Medical Monday

Drugged, ambulance ride, “This will make you feel better, okay?”

October 22 - Torture Tuesday

Forced (to kneel/watch/hurt somebody else), whipped, “Do not look away.” October 23 - Whumperless Wednesday

Fever, passing out, “Hey?! Stay with me, okay?!”

October 24 - Trauma Thursday

Deconditioning, relapse, “It’s normal that you need more time.”

October 25 - Fright/Freaky Friday

Humiliation, betrayal, “How could you?!”

October 26 - Sensory Saturday

Electrocution, burning, “This is going to sting.”

October 27 - Surprise Sunday

Before vs after, Alternate universe, “Well, there’s a first for everything.”

October 28 - Medical Monday

Internal bleeding, needles and stitches, “I didn’t think the wound was that bad…”

October 29 - Torture Tuesday

Ownership, branding, “Everybody will know that you’re mine.”

October 30 - Whumperless Wednesday

Poison, delirium, “You’re not making sense.”

October 31 - Trauma Thursday

Panic attack, facing a phobia, “You need to get out of here!”

Alt prompts:

1) Pistol whipped

2) Co-dependency

3) Animal bite

4) Zombies

5) White room torture

6) Shock collar

7) Pulling teeth

8) Kidnapping

9) “You always make everything worse!”

10) “If you weren’t around, I’d be long dead by now...”

[yusiyomogi]

i think that kui portrayed kabru's mental health issues in a very interesting way, but it's what makes it subtle to some readers. the fact that he seems so functional to the readers, especially in the first few appearances, not to mention that a lot of his problems and symptoms are not obvious and can only be seen in additional materials, seems like an intended choice from the character writing perspective.

the way kui constructs his character centers around the idea of duality. he switches between two "faces" in the story constantly, he uses two speaking styles (and two pronouns indicating them), he's a tallman who lived with elves for a long time and carries both cultures, he's caught in the conflict between long-lived and short-lived races, he's constantly stuck between two choices in his inner conflicts (what to think of laios? should he prioritize preventing another tragedy or taking away power from long-lived races?), he's bisexual. kui also made him a gemini, yknow, a zodiac sign associated with twins and duality.

there's a certain theme in this and it does affect the way we interpret his personality and choices and it goes beyond text, it's metatextual too. it's a sway between what's hidden and what's shown to the readers about him.

the thing is, i think his mental health issues are meant to be downplayed and hidden, because it's true to his character. what do we notice about him in the main story and what's hidden? well, one of the first things we see is that he's not great at fighting monsters, he suffers from ptsd that makes him basically freeze up just from thinking about them. images of dead people turning into monsters, tearing each other apart and eating each other haunt him, making him feel ill from monster food. he downplays this a lot, hides it from other characters, straight-up lies about it, but at least readers got to see it.

with a keen eye you might notice that he doesn't eat enough food, almost never eats anything on-screen. he mentions that he's never cooked food in his life: wait, kabru, don't you live alone? in that sense "don't you wanna eat?" moment reveals two details of kabru's character at once: we got to see his aversion from monster food related to ptsd, but also his inability to notice his own hunger in general. he's strong and he almost always wears armor, but we know that he often dies in the dungeon. the armor hides that he's pretty scrawny for someone who fights physically, again, something that we can only notice after he takes off his armor (symbolism!).

funnily enough, here we have our first glance at this through additional materials: in the info page about the importance of calories and fat, kui mentions that kabru has lost a lot of weight since he started exploring the dungeon, because he died a lot. what it means is that he doesn't eat enough to cover the loss of weight. subtle, but clever detail.

speaking of him not knowing how to cook, this is another clever detail that hides bigger truth: kabru doesn't know how to do chores, he doesn't take proper care of himself. extra materials reveal to us that kabru lives in the basement, lacking light and clean air and he doesn't know how to clean his room or how to iron clothes and simply... never cared to learn? this is mostly omitted from the main story, even if it does have a place for it: for example, his journey with mithrun becomes infinitely more fascinating, when you know how little kabru cares about himself. but since those chapters are told through kabru's pov, he basically "hides" this from the reader, takes control of the narrative in the same way he tells a polished version of his tragic backstory.

he talks about mithrun's story like there's no connection, like he's not literally looking at the dark mirror of himself. and, ironically, he chooses to not be vulnerable in front of the readers just like young mithrun wouldn't. extra materials give us a glimpse again: when in the main story mithrun said "i can't fall asleep without spell or potion", in the extra comic (literally behind the scenes) kabru says "i use alcohol to help me fall asleep". there's a connection and kabru sees it, but he's not telling it to us. (and yes. there's evidence that kabru is an early-stage alcoholic. we can see bottles under his bed and what he says basically imply that he depends on alcohol: he's not using it for recreational purposes, he's using it as a substance to make himself sleepy and, probably, less anxious. when that dependence turns uncontrolled, it often leads to full-blown alcoholism).

bigger connection to mithrun is of course kabru's refusal to accept his own humanity, to see that he's alive, that he has his own needs and desires. he's suicidal in the same way: he can only see his goal, he doesn't care about his life, he only sees the value of his life in relation to that goal and he never think what's gonna happen to him after he reaches this goal (because he unconsciously believes that "the after" wouldn't happen to him). and he doesn't reflect on it, again, until he's met with a question "what do you want to do?". the way he doesn't see himself as alive is omitted again in the big portion of the story and only really comes up in the end, when he asks "what was the point of my survival?", in a basically joking moment.

but we can see it through the symbolism, through his connection to death in the story, through his eagerness to sacrifice his life for the idealistic goal in his mind. and of course, we can see it clearly through his mirror: there's a strong parallel between kabru almost committing double suicide while chasing his goals and mithrun literally getting himself killed while chasing his own.

what i'm trying to say, it's interesting that kabru uses his control of the narrative to hide his own vulnerability from the readers. maybe mithrun sees himself as leftovers and it's something cathartic for him to admit in the end, but kabru really doesn't want you to see that he feels the same way. that he's also "leftovers". but you see, they are standing together in that panel. as kabru continues to try shielding himself from your view, kui puts the mirror next to him, revealing what's hidden.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am i the A-hole for trying to protect a women focused space?

I'm the mod from the super one sided retelling of the "Refusing to change OC's sexuality to bi/pan" situation. Shin (the person who wrote that post) know i don't use tumblr so of course he bring the drama here so that people would judge "Laura" and me without knowing the full truth. Thankfully, a dear friend of mine who followed this blog told me about this and was kind enough to allowed me to send this ask using her account.

First of all, it's pretty clear that Shin is lying about his identity. Shin said he is a trans man but he admitted that he don't want to transition beside wanting flat chest. Shin also said that he is south east asian but his display name and his OC's name are all japanese, which is a huge sign of white weeb fetishizing japanese culture. The fact that his english and understanding of slangs is way too good to be south east asian.

Secondly, Shin joining this server knowing that 90% of the members are yumejoshi, he should be grateful of the fact that we even allowed those yaoi characters invading what basically a space for women. I know we advertised the RP as a non-shipping focus death game story but you should have read the room and know what type of people this space is catering to and not bring your gay character in if you didn't want him to be shipped with women.

Thirdly, if Shin was uncomfortable then he should have made it clear from the start instead of letting "Laura"s character flirting with his, like having him respond rudely or out right rejecting her or something. Shin said he is having undiagnosed autism in his bio then he should have understand how it feel when people don't state what they mean clearly. His OC still being nice to "Laura"'s OC even if he didn't like the flirting, of course she would misunderstand that his OC developed romantic feeling for her OC.

Fourthly, Shin said before that he didn't count alternate timeline versions of a character from a visual novel he likes the same as the original timeline version because of their different life experiences then why can't he do the same to his OC? Why can't he just agree to let "Laura" make an alternate version of his character if in his logic they are completely different people? Hypocrite much?

And finally, "Laura" was very upset about this and it took her a while to move on, she could have hurt herself back then because of you. Also, we had to revised our server's rules and banned all the non-yumejoshies, which cut several RPs short.

So who is really the A-hole here?

[theharlotofferelden]

The Manifesto posted to Substack is fake

I've been seeing people uncritically share this (now deleted) substack article claiming to be Luigi Mangione's manifesto. If you believed this was real you should know that it's fake.

The real manifesto wasn't posted up until a day ago by Ken Klippenstein. You can read the manifesto here:

“To the Feds, I'll keep this short, because I do respect what you do for our country. To save you a lengthy investigation, I state plainly that I wasn't working with anyone. This was fairly trivial: some elementary social engineering, basic CAD, a lot of patience. The spiral notebook, if present, has some straggling notes and To Do lists that illuminate the gist of it. My tech is pretty locked down because I work in engineering so probably not much info there. I do apologize for any strife of traumas but it had to be done. Frankly, these parasites simply had it coming. A reminder: the US has the #1 most expensive healthcare system in the world, yet we rank roughly #42 in life expectancy. United is the [indecipherable] largest company in the US by market cap, behind only Apple, Google, Walmart. It has grown and grown, but as our life expectancy? No the reality is, these [indecipherable] have simply gotten too powerful, and they continue to abuse our country for immense profit because the American public has allwed them to get away with it. Obviously the problem is more complex, but I do not have space, and frankly I do not pretend to be the most qualified person to lay out the full argument. But many have illuminated the corruption and greed (e.g.: Rosenthal, Moore), decades ago and the problems simply remain. It is not an issue of awareness at this point, but clearly power games at play. Evidently I am the first to face it with such brutal honesty.”

And on the subject of disinformation, you should know that the "Countdown to Truth" YouTube video people were claiming was uploaded by Luigi was also fake.

Please share this. There's too many conspiracy theories going around right now without believing disinformation.

ETA — editing this post to debunk this manifesto I’ve recently become aware of. I haven’t been able to find anyone talking about this one online, but using Whois to check when the website was created reveals it was made December 9th, which is the day he got caught. It also shows the website was registered by someone living in Reykjavik, Iceland.

ETA 2 — I didn’t think I would have to say this on a post trying to combat disinformation, but since that person called me a “narc” after calling them out for trying to derail this post with conspiratorial thinking, I feel the need to say that at the time of me writing this post, Luigi Mangione is, at most, the main suspect in the murder of Brian Thompson. I make no claims that he’s the perpetrator (although I will admit the evidence is stacked against him). I am in support of a trial by jury and am in favor of a not guilty verdict (and jury nullification).

[fluentmoviequoter]

Truth Without the Lasso

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!powered!reader

Summary: You're Wonder Woman's protégé and adopted daughter. Jason Todd admits that you look familiar, and you tell him secrets the gods have kept for your entire life.

Warnings: brief angst, fluff

Word Count: 1.9k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist | DC/Jason Todd Masterlist | Request Info

19 Years Ago

The human, mortal-born baby washed ashore in Gotham Harbor was the talk of the town. Yet, when an out-of-town woman arrived in the dead of night and adopted her, the city quickly forgot the child, too caught up in its unraveling seam to wonder if the young girl found a home. Though they did not notice nor question her humanity, it was the first topic breached after she arrived on Mount Olympus.

“Who is the mortal?” Zeus demanded.

“She has no name,” Diana Prince, Wonder Woman, answered. “No family, no birthright. With the permission of the gods, I would like to adopt her, raise her, transform her into the warrior she is destined to be.”

Achilles looked to Zeus and nodded once. Other gods and goddesses followed, leaving their lofty perches to examine the young life nestled in Diana’s arms. She was at home with Diana, calm and content, and even smiled up at her. When Athena held the child, she squirmed and reached for Diana and cried against Hera’s chest.

“Diana has a connection to her,” Hera told Zeus, “one even you would have trouble breaking.”

“You have our blessing, daughter,” Zeus announced. “And for the child, age will bring her closer to her mother.”

Diana returned to Themyscira, growing to love the young child more each day. As she learned to crawl, walk, and talk, she showed early signs of powers like Diana’s. The blessing bestowed upon her by the gods brought her closer to her mother, indeed, and by the time you were old enough to leave Paradise, you’d met more than enough heroes, villains, and vigilantes to know your fate.

Present Day, Gotham

“What about you, Alkmini?” Flash asks. “Any ideas?”

You shrug, and Black Canary leans over. She whispers, “What about the public approach idea?”

“It’s stupid,” you mumble.

"I said the same about the idea to reform the JSA, but here we are,” Batman points out. “What were you thinking?”

You shift in your seat and look at the table as you say, “What if we just approach them as the JSA rather than trying to find some way to get past the Senate without exposing our identities?”

Batman looks to Superman, who undoubtedly has the most experience hiding his truest identity from humanity.

“Would Diana approve?” Clark asks, smiling at you.

“Why does it matter what Wonder Woman thinks?” Doctor Fate inquires. “Oh, right.”

“She would,” you answer.

“Then, in three weeks’ time, we’ll greet the approaching alien ship as the Justice Society of America, with or without the government’s approval,” Superman announces. “Meeting adjourned.”

“Patrolling tonight?” Bruce asks, seeming to spawn at your side.

“If they’ll let me tag along,” you answer as you prepare to enter the boom tube.

“The day my boys don’t let you patrol with them is the day they’ll need you most.”

“Alkmini!” Tim cheers as you join them on the roof.

“Drake,” you reply softly.

“You do enjoy reminding us that you know our secret identities,” Jason says, and you’re sure he’s smiling beneath the helmet.

You feel fingers along your belt, and the telltale crack of the Lasso of Truth precedes Dick asking, “ Do you care?”

“Of course not,” Jason answers, kicking his foot to remove your rope from his ankle.

“Why not?”

“I’m going to kill you,” Jason grits out, clearly talking through a clenched jaw.

“Where’s Robin?” you ask as you pull the lasso from Dick and return it to the hook along your waistband.

Jason breathes his thanks as Dick answers that he’s with Batman tonight. You feel more courageous than ever standing with Red Hood, Nightwing, and Red Robin. You’ve grown to love the bats and birds, and you know they care about you, too. Since learning their secret identities, you’ve noticed the long looks they send you, trying to decide if they should know who you are based on what they can see past the small mask your mother had forged for you. Diana’s your mother, biological or not, and your Themysciran family is as important to you as your Gotham family.

Batman flies across the sky before landing on the opposite side of the roof from you. You narrow your eyes and ask, “Did he get taller?”

“Let the criminals think so,” Batman rasps as he enters the light.

Damian is perched on his shoulders, his arms hanging as he blinks sleepily, leaning his head against the top of the cowl. Bruce’s gloved hands are wrapped protectively around Damian’s ankles as he moves carefully.

“Who can take him home?” he asks.

“I can,” you offer.

“Does Wonder Woman know where you are?”

“Of course.”

Bruce nods once, and when he tips toward you, Damian wakes. “Alkmini,” he says. “Your assistance on my Greek mythology essay was most….”

You wait for him to finish, but he slumps heavier against Bruce, asleep, and you take him carefully. Damian is incredibly special to you, and it isn’t the first time you’ve gone out of your way to protect him. You say goodbye to the boys, careful not to look directly at Jason’s red mask because you swear you can feel his intense gaze on you through the red material.

After you leave, Jason mumbles, “ So familiar. I should know by now.”

“How are the boys?” Diana asks, in her Wonder Woman costume – uniform? You aren’t sure of the correct terminology and are too far into training to ask – as she surveys the city.

“They’re good,” you answer. “Thanks for helping me with the braces. I’d hate to try to stop a real bullet without the practice.”

“Keep spending time in Gotham and you’ll appreciate the training even more.”

You chuckle and prepare to move your arms to deflect projectiles with the armor around your wrists once more.

Several hours after the conclusion of a rough patrol and a text from Dick, you knock on a locked window. Damian looks up from the couch and smiles before he lets you in. He hugs you tightly before stepping back.

“Where’s Jason?” you inquire, looking around the apartment.

“His room. You can go see him; I believe he’s sulking again. I don’t know if he reread Mr. Darcy’s first proposal or if tonight got to him,” Damian answers.

“Thanks.”

At the end of the short hall, you knock and wait for Jason to invite you in. He’s sitting on the floor, leaning back slightly with his patrol uniform still on, only his helmet and domino mask discarded beside him. You close the door and kneel beside his feet, giving him plenty of room.

“You know what one of my first memories is?” Jason asks, his head tipped back against the wall, his eyes closed. “When I was two or three, a kid washed up in the harbor. I don’t remember specifics, but it was a girl. The story stuck with me. I looked into it last night and read that a woman from out of town adopted her and took her away.”

You watch Jason and shift slightly. That was you, but you had no idea Jason knew about it. He opens his eyes and looks at you, smiling as you lose your fight to maintain eye contact and drop your eyes to his chest.

“Why haven’t you told us – me – who you really are?” he asks.

Your voice is soft, but you know Jason hears when you say, “Growing up, I wasn’t allowed to. And then, after that long, it just felt like… I guess I thought if I told you then it would be like I didn’t trust you before.”

“Do you trust me?” Jason asks.

You notice he didn’t even bother to include the rest of his family this time and pass him the lasso. With the end wrapped around your wrist, you say, “I trust you more than anything or anyone. Except my mom, maybe.”

Jason tilts his head, and his tongue runs over his lips quickly before he says, “I wasn’t aware this made shy people talk easier. I’ll have to remember that.” He tosses it back to you and places his hands on the floor beside him. “I trust you too, without the lasso.”

“Why’d you bring up the little girl from so long ago?” you inquire.

“There was a baby left in an alley tonight. Bruce said he’d look into it, but it just reminded me of that.”

You nod and roll your bottom lip between your teeth.

“You look so familiar,” he mutters. “Especially when you do that.”

Carefully, you move closer to Jason. He extends his arm, and you scoot forward until your hip is against his, facing him as his hand settles on your waist.

“Nineteen years ago, I was adopted by Wonder Woman,” you begin. “But, because of who she is, she couldn’t just take me in, she had to get permission from the gods.”

“The gods? Like Zeus, Athena?” Jason interjects.

You nod and continue, “They gave her permission, and gifted me some of her powers because we were connected and because I was a warrior.” You hold Jason’s intense gaze as you explain, “I was a warrior because I’d survived on my own and washed up in Gotham.”

“You visited with Diana,” Jason realizes. “That’s why you look so familiar! When Bruce first took me in, Diana would come by sometimes, and she always had a little girl with her.”

You smile, and Jason extends his legs out further. He pulls you against him, brushing his fingers along the bottom of your mask. After you nod, he peels it away from your face. It’s like he’s seeing you for the first time and the thousandth time, he thinks as he tugs you into his lap.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you whisper.

“I trust you wholly,” Jason admits. “And that scared me. Do you remember playing together once, around Christmas the year after I stole Bruce’s tires?”

“Of course,” you answer as if it’s obvious. Something about having the mask off, being truly seen, makes it easier to admit everything. “How could I forget the Christmas I fell in love?”

Jason smiles and leans up, wrapping his arms around your waist as his nose taps yours.

“Are you decent?” Damian asks at the door. “I have a question regarding Odysseus and the suitors.”

“Is he reading The Odyssey?” you ask Jason.

“Sounds like a question for you,” he responds with a shrug.

“Are you okay? Finding a kid in a position like that can’t be easy.”

“I am. I’ll check on her tomorrow, and tonight hasn’t been all bad.”

“Come on in, Damian,” you call.

Jason scrambles for your mask, but you catch his wrist and shake your head as you stand from his lap. He pushes himself up beside you, and Damian enters with his nose in the book. When he finishes his question and looks up, his eyes widen.

You answer Damian’s question, but he doesn’t seem to hear it before he asks, “What’s your name?”

Jason answers with you, and you smile up at him.

“What’s that look for?” he inquires.

“I’m going to Themyscira for my birthday pretty soon. Do you want to come with me?”

“Will Diana threaten to kill me?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll go,” Damian offers.

“You’re all invited. But I should probably put Dick out of his misery and tell him that I am who he thinks I am.”

“Let’s take this,” Jason suggests, tugging your Lasso of Truth to pull you closer.

[fobarchiveteam]

The Fall Out Boy 2001 Demo... and the fact that there's actually two of them!

A few years ago, the wonderful Dave Hofer, who owns the DuPage County Hardcore Archive, uploaded the first Fall Out Boy demo from 2001 onto his archive, revealing its existence to the world. Dave was able to locate both a copy of the CD and the cassette versions of this demo, finding out that limited amounts of CDrs and around 100 cassettes were ever made. The CDr has uncut and unmastered versions of the recordings that later appear on the Project Rocket split, but the cassette contains completely different recordings for the first two songs, while an original song that is found nowhere else called “A Nice Myth” replaces Moving Pictures. The truth is that these are actually two separate demos: the cassette recordings came first. These demos were both made in 2001. For the first demo, the band consisted of Patrick on vocals, Pete on bass, Joe on guitar, and two other members who only lasted for a short time in the band: Ben Rose on drums, and John Flamadan on rhythm guitar. It was recorded on an 8-track in Ben’s basement. That 8-track was later turned into the cassette, of course. Both Ben and John left shortly after, and Jared Logan and TJ Kunasch replaced them on the CDr recordings respectively. What you may not know is there was an even rarer version of the CDr demo made: two types of lathe cuts.

These lathe cuts were posted on Discogs as pictures years before Dave’s discovery, so they sat dormant and undiscovered by FOB fans for a long time. After researching the cassettes and CDs for our archive, we stumbled upon these pictures and were perplexed that nobody has mentioned this version elsewhere before. Although this was not really a “new” discovery, we were still intrigued. We contacted the uploader of the picture, and this is what he had to say:

Hey!! Yeah it's honestly a crazy story on how I acquired it, but I believe it's legit. Basically, a few years back (I think 2018 or 19? The listing on the page for the clear version that sold for $0.50 or something crazy was from me, that's how I bought it). I messaged a guy on here that had the CD added in his collection if he would be willing to send me the mp3s/WAV files for his copy, and he did. We talked for a bit about the band and he said I seemed knowledgeable about the band and asked if I wanted his second copy of the lathe (he had two, one clear, one black). I obviously was like "hell yeah dude" and he said he would ship it to me. Fast forward a few weeks (he lived in Australia or some shit) and low & behold, I actually got the damn thing in the mail, plus two promo trading cards from the TTTYG album cycle, one with Andy & one with Joe. A few years later he messaged me that he got in touch with the dude that made the lathes for the band (he was based in Chicago which makes sense). Apparently 26 copies were cut & only 20 got labels thrown on them, members of the band slapped them on themselves. They were only in white paper sleeves, not any picture sleeves unfortunately. The sound quality on them is actually pretty decent for a lathe made in 2001, which is what leads me to believe it's legit. Also, like you had mentioned, the songs didn't leak until a few years back, when I got it I had never heard these versions (it's just the Project Rocket split versions uncut & unmastered essentially, same versions as the ones that leaked from the CD version. That is pretty much all the info I have on it, I hoped that helped some!!

Cheers from Florida - Jake

He later followed up with:

If I'm not mistaken, I believe the guy I got it from got both the clear and black copies verified to be legit by the guy that made them. Also small detail I forgot to include before, he obtained both copies through a lot of FOB merch from eBay. He was looking to get a complete set of TTTYG trading cards, which is why he bought it. But I know in the lot he also got the two lathes & a demo CD, I forget what else he had mentioned. It's odd that the band hasn't spoken of their existence, maybe they forgot? The lathes were probably more of a novelty item than anything, considering that vinyl wasn't very popular in 2001 & they weren't packaged as "properly" as the CDs & tapes, plus they made a lot less of them. I'm assuming they just kinda got tossed around between friends of the band or got sold at random at their early shows. Either way, it's been one of my prized possessions since I've acquired it, let me know if hou have any other questions on it haha

Currently we have no idea who this elusive Chicago lathe maker is, but maybe we may find out one day. These lathe cuts may possibly be the rarest FOB merch in existence.

Side note: The fact that the top title on the cassette specific insert says "Fallout Boy - Growing Up" and then later lists Growing Up as a song below, it may have been intended to be the title of the cassette, and the song was a title track. This is unconfirmed though.

[audliminal]

It's Just a Game, Right? Pt 6

Masterpost

"I'm telling you, Fenton!" Wes announces. "I'm onto you." A few of the kids walking past snicker at them, as Danny does his best to look confused. The startled part is easy; Wes is turning out to be a surprisingly good actor. He's been gradually leaning even harder to the image of a conspiracy nut, and the result is impressive. Danny, on the other hand, is simply trying to keep up with the insanity.

"I have literally no clue what you're talking about, dude." Danny says, attempting to push past Wes, so he can enter their classroom. Wes doesn't seem inclined to let this confrontation end, though.

"You may have everybody else fooled, but I know the truth. You made a pact with the so-called ghosts and their efforts to take over our world. You're just manipulating your parents' tech in order to convince everyone that they actually are ghosts, and not the invading fae army they really are!"

"Dude, what?" Danny responds, not quite able to hold back the laugh.

"Honestly, Wes, don't you have any common sense?" Star asks, as she walks up. "Rumor has it that Fenton's failing like half his classes, and you think a bunch of fae lords, or whatever would trust him to help their scheme? Surely they'd choose someone more competent." She flips her hair, and then walks past the both of them, as a couple of the kids nearest to them start snickering.

Outwardly, Danny winces and hunches in on himself a little more, as he takes the opening Star just created and ducks into the classroom after her.

In hallway outside, Danny catches Wes muttering to himself before following them in. No one says anything for a minute, but the moment the bell rings and Mr Lancer shuts the door, Star turns to Wes.

"I think you should be a writer or something after we get out of here." Star tells him. "That theory was honestly inspired."

"It gets even better. I have so much evidence to force on you guys, it'll be great." Wes answers, then turns to Danny. "You good? I know we don't mean any of it, but it's still gotta suck to have us acting like assholes all the time."

"I mean," Danny hums. "I'm not gonna say it's fun? But like honestly compared to everything else, dissing my work kinda seems..."

"Banal?" Sam offers.

"Yeah, sure, that." Danny nods. "Like, compared to people wanting me dead, who cares, I guess."

"Yikes," Kwan mutters. "Your life is a fucking mess, dude."

"Well, i do have some good news about that." Tucker announces, turning his computer to face everyone else. "Looks like the fanbase is making some progress towards finding the real stuff.

Danny stares at the reddit thread Tucker is on. He's honestly been only loosely paying attention to the actual stuff Tucker and Wes have been posting. He's happy to offer his knowledge of space stuff, or engineering, but the intricacies of secret code aren't really something he ever pursued. Well, except for the secret language he and Tucker had made as kids. Wes, on the other hand, peers at the screen and lets out a soft whoop.

"Hell yeah! They found the second layer!"

"Yeah. Which means they've found our first plea for help."

"Oh, wow," Sam says sardonically. "A plea for help that's so great. Why are they gonna think it's anything other than another part of the damn story."

"Chill out, Sam," Tucker responds. "The point is to encourage them to look harder. And once they find the next level, they'll start finding our info on the infinite realms."

"Whatever," Sam says, frowning. "I just... Don't like how much waiting this involves."

"Yeah it would be a lot easier if we could just, like, beat them up and call it good," Dash agrees. "But, like, jail would probably suck."

"At least they're making progress," Danny points out. "I don't really get how you guys are making these layers, but. It's more progress than anything else we've tried."

"Yeah, but like, what does this mean for us?"

"Why not interact directly with that post?"

"Maybe. We'd have to be extra careful about what and how we say it, so they don't write us off as a copycat or anything, but it could serve to reinforce, uh-" Wes leans in, to read the username. "BenBlues379's theory."

"Okay then, let's draft a reply." Danny zones out as they start to discuss the specifics. He hadn't actually had to go deal with any ghosts last night, but his parents had been working on some new invention, and the noise of their trials had made sure he didn't get much sleep despite the supposed reprieve. Luckily, nobody in this class is going to complain if he takes the opportunity to catch up on the missed shut-eye now, so with one last deep breath, Danny folds himself down onto his and relaxes into sleep, as the sounds of his classmates debating echoes around him.

[silkenwinger]

cherry

mdni. part 2 to this; one sided enemies to lovers (?) konig x reader. part 3 here

You aren't sure this job is good for you, but you would be miserable doing anything else.

That is the unquestionable truth of the matter. Normal society rejects you, then chews on you and spits you out; and you may have taken a bite as well, bitter as it was. There was an attempt, fresh of finishing high school: it was so corroding to you your only other option was joining the army. When that grew unsustainable, too, KorTac. And you are determined to make it work: the unstable people that work with you mostly irritate you, besides some precious exceptions, but you know how they operate. You know how to cope with them.

But God if they don't make it hard!

“As I said before,” you seethe between your teeth, “Novik was spotted by our squad last week in Pashyk. We have reason to believe he might still be there.”

The lieutenant you’re speaking to just listens with dead eyes. He then blinks, and turns to speak to his squad member again.

“We will go ahead as planned…”

Fuck this shit! Not only you’re forced to work alongside another squad, full of people you don’t know, but you’re also going totally unheard. What even is the point of going after an arms dealer if you’re just going to miss him every time because you’re going to the wrong places?

In the ample debrief space, you turn to protest with your side of the room. Roze doesn’t look thrilled either, having her own recon being dismissed so blatantly. It’s harder to tell what the guys are thinking, with that whole mask business, but Horangi has that battle tension in his shoulder, a sign of unreleased disapproval and anger. König… doesn’t look very different. His posture is straight, he’s not hunching to hear the others better. He could be approving the other plan, for all you know. At the end though, you can’t have too much internal conflict, especially when you know the lieutenant knows the commanding general a good deal. Personal preferences and friendships are even more relevant in a PMC than in the normal army, which is saying something.

“It’s like they thrive on doing the wrong thing,” you vent to them later as you make for the mess, fists closed. The other squad had won the battle of deciding your next step, favoured by the higher ups.

“You tell me,” replies Roze, taking her gloves off as she moves to the food stand. “A full night of work dismissed because of their old info.”

“I say we let them do as they please and just sit on the side. We are still getting paid,” says Horangi as he sheds his mask away. Oh, potato salad… 

“I would rather not catch a stray bullet from them, you know how some of their aims are,” you snicker, looking around to make sure none of them are in hearing range. You grab the cutleries.

“It won’t happen,” states a voice you haven’t heard for some minutes now. König’s. He’s standing next to you, as he does often nowadays.

It’s been some weeks since you’ve slept together. You don’t know exactly how your relationship has changed. All you know is that you’ve found it increasingly hard to insult him often and he clings to you like he’s made of velcro (and you are too). And he stuck to you already before. Despite being tempted, so far you’ve managed to not fall into the trap of giving in to your impulses again– both due to your work demands, but also because you have exerted self restraint. Since you know that König has feelings for you, the poor fool, it’s good that you aren’t leading him on. It’s the kindest thing you’ve ever done for him.

Sitting down to eat, you look at König in front of you as he raises his hood to eat. A scowl tugs at your lips, but you distract yourself with food to not think about him. Great, the potato salad is fridge cold as well. And salt less. Could this day even get worse?

“You look stupid,” you say before you can reign it in, pointing at König and his mask. He gulps audibly. Horangi and Roze don’t even mind your insult, as used as they are to them, and keep having their own conversation.

“There’s no way you aren’t getting it dirty, putting it back on every time you take a bite,” you continue, frustrated. There you are again, taking it on König. He should win an award, or fire you.

“You’re right,” he says, tone cheery, “I used to eat in my room so it was cleaner.” The unspoken is so obvious it hits you in the belly, like a well placed punch that takes your breath away. You’re so uncomfortable with the eye contact he’s holding that you look away first.

Why did this have to happen to you. When taken rationally, and without the fumes of lust, what you and König have going on is neither normal nor healthy. He should have a normal companion that elevates and cherishes him, and you should go to something that starts with t and ends with herapy. But no, you’re not going: you went while you were still in the army and it was completely useless and annoying. Plus it’s not even free in KorTac like it was back then.

There’s no other way than to sit down and hope it passes. There’s many women in KorTac; König is a tall and powerful man with a particular kind of charm. Soon hormones will do their part and lead him to other, more well adjusted shores. Far away from you and your unstable moods.

The rest of the afternoon you mope around trying to do something, anything to distract you from your impending mission. You go to the gym and do more series than usual, until your arms burn; you shoot at the range; you beat some poor recruits in hand to hand training; but still it haunts you. It’s both worrying about what you will encounter and anger at being dismissed, unheard. Exacerbating your anxiety is the feeling someone is watching as you walk about the base. You feel eyes on you as you walk through corridors and as you enter rooms. 

The flesh tires before the mind, and so you retreat to your room hoping to sleep at least some hours. Like the internet recommended, you pick up a book to facilitate sleep. See? You can do mental work on your own, no shrink needed. You’re trying to read the same sentence for a minute when someone knocks at your door. You raise your voice as you ask who’s there.

Dogs come back to the place where they’re fed, and much to your chagrin, some men are all dog. And they will scratch at doors.

“It’s me…” a soft voice speaks from the other side. You recognize it immediately and don’t particularly enjoy it being there, but you’ve been trying to get better. So you tell it to enter.

König enters your room like he’s making his way through a mined zone. Not very dissimilar for him when you’re concerned. Still, he lowers his head as he passes through the door and takes some tentative steps. The sound of his boots walking on your carpet is clunky and uncertain. You slide the covers off and sit straight on your bed.

“Is there a problem?” You ask him, neither cold nor warm. You have a hunch he’s not here for any official reason, but you want to hear it from his mouth.

“No, there is no problem,” he rushes to say. You give him no reaction because you already knew that.

Looking at him, so tall and awkward, standing in your room with his hands in front of himself, moves in you something that would have been disgust a month ago. Now it’s something more akin to pity and wanting to strangle him for his way of being. You sigh, already done with his bumbling ways.

“Sit down, will you?” You tell him, and he immediately sits down at the desk chair. It takes a remarkable amount of control to not tell him good boy at that.

“Was it you creeping on me all day?” You ask him directly, like a band aid taken off by surprise. You know the answer to this already as well.

He fiddles a bit with his fingers and then nods, adding a spoken yes on his own. Your eyebrows lower in anger.

“What makes you think that’s a normal thing to do? Seriously, you disgust me at times.” He jiggles his feet, making the chair creak in strain

“I saw you were upset. But I would be making you even more upset, so I thought I would look at you from afar.” His words tumble out of him like the water of a river in flood, like he cannot control his thoughts transforming into spoken phrases.

“I’m not something for you to gawk at.” His attraction to you confuses and upsets you: you cannot understand what you did for him to like you, and maybe that’s what unsettles you. That there’s a whole world out there that sees you and chooses to perceive you in a way you cannot control. Dislike, scorn, indifference: these are reactions you can understand applied to your person, but that König would instead choose to pick like is unbearable. 

“I just wanted to see you were well,” he confesses, his voice soft. For some reason, he keeps digging his grave even deeper. You feel blood rush to your face.

“You’re unbelievable. You hide yourself all the time and I have to be seen and controlled? You’re the most hypocritical person I know.” His head snaps lower now, and you think to yourself this is it. This is the time you get to break his heart completely, that you make yourself unredeemable in his eyes. No longer a fussy creature he can please by doing what she says, but a fully blooded woman that doesn’t deserve his care. Leave her to her devices, his brain should be telling him. This woman is worthless and a constant headache.

Your blood chills in your veins when his hands raise to go to his nape. The fabric of his hood falls in front, a waterfall that stops to reveal the unknown. You find König’s eyes living on a man’s face. 

He’s scarred, that much is true. His nose might have been broken as well. You’re speechless to the fact that he chose to take off his mask, and instead of saying anything dumb, you decide it’s your turn to gawk. His hair is longer than normal in the military, this much you guessed right, and a pleasing auburn that matches his body hair, for as little as you saw them that other time. He looks nervous, and younger than you know he is. Overall, you like his face. It matches his personality: rough in exterior facade, showing that he’s been through a lot, but soft in behavior and gestures. 

“This way,” he manages to let out, “you see me as well.”

This idiot. He’s making you do it again. You’ve really tried, but it’s like he bewitches you.

You jump out of the bed and cross the room in three wide steps. König doesn’t even know what hits him when you’re already sitting on his lap. It’s quite spacious.

“This doesn’t count as an apology for stalking me,” you tell him, inflexible, your legs straddling his. But then you start holding his face in your hands. He looks like you’ve hung the moon for him, and while the sensation is heady, it’s also uncomfortable. You distract yourself from it by kissing him. You start slow, more like nibbling at his lips, uncharted territory. He tries reciprocating, thankfully not using his tongue yet, just pushing his lips against yours, chaste and innocent. You laugh against his mouth and he starts giggling too, a weirdly intimate touch that you weren’t expecting. You’re no longer laughing at him so much as you’re laughing together.

“Follow my lead,” you tell him simply, and he nods, nose brushing against yours. You begin kissing him again, this time for real, your tongue tracing first his lips and then the inside of his mouth. When it slides against his own, you urge him to reciprocate. He does, albeit shyly, but when you start really going at it he gets the hang of it. Truly, an adapting genius. You run your hands in his hair, soft and smooth, while he keeps his hand diligently on your hips, straying neither up nor down. You guess, for his patience again shown when you mistreat him in public, that he deserves a reward of sorts. When your hands move away he makes a strangled sound, but shuts up real quickly when he sees them grab the hem of your t-shirt to take it off. Already braless for bed, your tits go from being completely unknown to him to being in front of his eyes. The expression on his face, unguarded and unrestrained, is almost laughable again, but you’re feeling neglected and you don’t want to turn this into a full bullying session.

“Touch me. Don’t be shy,” you tell him, index finger in front of his lips, and again he nods, resolute. He cups your breast like it’s the holy grail, and that’s exactly what you were afraid of. That you’re an idol instead of a human being to him. Even if it’s a flattering idea.

“I won’t break, you goof,” you berate him but guide him as well, putting your hand over his, showing him how you like to be touched. The other you grab to put on your lower back. Instructed by you, his touches become more real, more vivid; he runs his hand against your side, your hip, then goes back to grope your chest. The sensation makes you move forward, grinding your body against his, and your wet pussy sends a sting of pleasure up your body from the contact against his crotch. König moves to suck your nipple then, now dedicated to covering your chest with care. His suckles are gentle but intense, a motion that is never too rough nor mild; when he is done with one breast he switches to the other without any input, and you smile, ruffling his hair a bit. He looks up at you then, face adorably red and flushed, and moves back to kiss you on the mouth again. Taken by surprise, you emit an embarrassing sound that wakes you up. You break off the kiss, drizzle of spit briefly linking you two, and rush to get off him.

His expressions are so clear now that he’s masked. And right now he’s looking at you like you just burned his house to the ground, sweaty, flushed and miserable. Unable to stand that look on his face, you clear your throat.

“Get on the bed,” you only say, and cringe a bit at the high pitched tone of your voice. König lights up again at your words, like you’ve built his house again and it’s even bigger and more splendid than it was before. He walks with his legs wide, visibly working around his erection, and the sight almost makes you facepalm. Thankfully, you can busy yourself by taking off your pants, doing it so rushedly your thumb’s nail makes a red scratch on your thigh. Watching you from the bed, König starts taking off his clothes. You didn’t tell him to do that but you will grant him this much after turning away from his kiss. He awaits, loyally, sitting on the opposite edge.

“Well? Lay down,” you tell him from the edge of the bed, bracing yourself for the next act. It’s something that you’ve thought about these past days, but to think it will happen now that he’s maskless prickles on your spine. Once you’re done, you turn to see his feet are right next to you, and he’s not quite laying down but more like sitting up with his legs stretched out. These military beds weren’t built for men like König. 

You crawl over to him; you’re not trying to be particularly seductive, but maybe you’re doing it anyway, because his mouth is slightly open, oafish look on his face and all. So irritating– you can’t wait to make it go away. You reach his midsection on all fours, and your hand locks around his cock like you’ve done it a hundred times. He’s leaking all over, the poor thing. His leg twitches: you observe his expression as you pump him a couple of times and, satisfied by it changing to something less stupid, you straddle him again. You’re unsure you can take him without any preparation, but being on top allows you to change your mind quickly. Guiding his cock inside you, you flinch a little at the start and stop midway through, taking a few breaths. You’re plenty wet, and you’ve taken it before, but it’s still a challenge. Thankfully you’re made of stern stuff.

“I’m sorry…” says König, and you could really slap him for saying something this stupid while you’re trying to put his dick in you.

“Don’t be,” you reassure him anyway, huffing. That’s on you for being greedy. Finally, after a while of praying and relaxing and moving a bit after bit, you can take him to base. You sigh as he fills you whole and more, and he moans a contented noise. One of his hands comes to hold your hips, gently, gallantly, as if to say Do what you must and I’ll be there. Readjusting your legs, you start riding him. This has been your plan all along, but the feel of his long, hard cock inside you is more overwhelming than expected, and maybe you’ve missed him just a touch. Moaning, you grasp at his chest, until one of your hands grabs his neck and you dig your nails into the pale strong meat of it. König shouts, a sudden and sharp noise– you grind against his body to give something to your neglected clit. 

“You– you can, hngh, move too you know…” you tell him, out of breath and aching sweetly as you bounce on his cock. You want him to feel involved as well… not like he’s a toy you use to get off. 

“Alright,” he says, smiling at you like he doesn’t have a worry in the world, and you feel an undercurrent of shame again. His heels point on the mattress then, and he starts matching your thrusts from the bottom, the head of his cock reaching a point so far inside you you’re almost certain has never been reached before. Your moans have become needy cries as you match König’s movements, his grunting almost quiet, concentrated on fucking the way you want. Before you know it, two strong arms have bound you by your torso, and your chest makes contact with König’s. He’s holding you, like you’re making love and not taking out frustrations on each other… You could scream, but the change in position and angle has you curling your toes even more, pleasure mounting inside of you. König is panting in your neck, a desperate noise, and you join your arms to hold him, too, his breath hot against your body. Soon enough of his touch, of this spiked beast being tamed by his kindness, you come, letting out a disjointed mewl. Feeling your pussy constrict him even more, König hurries his last strokes, coming inside you with his head in your chest. His rumbling drawl sends rippling tingles all over your body.

You lay there on top of him for a while. Maybe you’re also a bit scared to look him in the eye after kissing and holding him. You reason this is what he’s wanted all along, and maybe you’ve been wanting something along these lines too. Finally, your knees done for, you slide out of him, leaving a mess on your thighs and his, and try to stand but miserably fail, knees buckling. Humiliated, you angrily jump over to lay down next to him. Only you could ruin your post orgasm bliss… all by yourself. Unexpectedly, König speaks.

“Can I hold you?” He asks, tone dangerously sleepy. Your bed is not equipped for two grown adults of your size sleeping on it; and your odds are not good against König in your sleep. The chances of you falling off are very high. But since you can’t go anywhere for a while, you might as well oblige him.

“Yes,” you tell him, but snuggle to him before he can do it to you. His hands are greedy now, too: he brushes your hair and your neck and your ass, reverent, back to his worshipping mood. He takes his time exploring your body, blue eyes dragging over the details, your scars, your birthmarks. Embarrassed by his lavish exploration, you hide your head in his neck. You want him to lay down more comfortably, but maybe he prefers this to having his feet hang off.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you, but I’m on birth control,” you mutter against his muscles. It’s very stupid to tell him this after he already came in you twice, but considering you’ve sprung it on him very suddenly both times, you cannot blame a guy for not asking.

“I know!” He exclaims instead, joyful. “I heard you saying so to Roze three months and five days ago, in the helicopter!” He taps his long fingers against your back, maybe to the beat of a song or a lullaby, and you shudder. Again, his obsession for you is simply inexplicable. The mean streak returns as your lungs fill, like a cat ready to scratch.

“You’re freaking me out,” you grimace and take your face off from his neck, trying to lay down on your back as much as you can in the limited space, back arched. His laugh is light and airy, reverberating through your simple room. It tugs a smile off you too and it makes you feel like everything will be alright, at work… and maybe with König, too.

[torturedtypewritersdept]

proclivity - pt. six - motion sickness

✯ pairing:

ex!bff!rafe cameron x diabetic!kook!fem!reader

✯ summary:

at one point in time rafe was your best friend. can summer romance erase all the damage he's done?

✯ [7k]warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, heartbreak, diabetes lingo, injury, ghosting, fluff and fear, domestic violence (not rafe), mean!ex!jj etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was originally posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity and i have rewritten + reshared it here :) trying out a new format with this post, hope you like it!

You laid with Rafe on that white fleece blanket for what felt like hours. You nuzzled your face deeper into his chest, as you recounted some more of the trauma that you had experienced at the hands of JJ, listening to the constant beat of Rafe’s heart. You knew that when that sound ever stopped that you’d cease to exist. Rafe's phone rang loudly, bringing you out of your conversation and he dug through the pocket of his khaki shorts glancing at the screen - it was Topper. As he answered the phone, he gave you a knowing look, letting you know that the conversation wasn’t over. You made a mental note that you were going to have to have a chat with Top about calling at the most inconvenient times. Rafe rolled his eyes but drug his large finger across the screen to answer the facetime call. 

“What is it, Top?” 

Rafe questioned, rolling his eyes. 

“That’s no way to greet your best friend, jackass.” 

Topper quipped, a smile on his lips.

“Well, I’m a little busy right now.” 

Rafe replied, moving the camera to show you laid on his chest on the beach.

“Shit, my bad. Have you taken her to pound town yet?”

Rafe grimaced, Topper must've thought you were asleep because there was no way he’d say that with you conscious. 

“No, he hasn’t.” 

You whispered out, looking up at Rafe with sad eyes and he swallowed thickly. At Topper’s words, you wondered if that’s all this was, some sick ploy to sleep with you or to break your heart on purpose. Realization of the fact that you just shared some of your most vulnerable parts with him made your stomach sink, but you quickly pushed it down. 

“Hey, shit. I’m sorry Y/n, I was just messing with Rafe. He really likes you.” 

Topper spoke with a tone so genuine you decided to relax a little. 

“I think I got that top, thanks for the info.” 

You quipped, bringing light-hearted energy back to the conversation. Though, you knew you’d have to talk to Rafe about what he said in private. 

“Anyways, losers. There’s a party at my house tonight. I expect to see you two there.” 

Topper urged. 

“We might make an appearance. We’re spending time together though so probably not.” 

Your heart leapt at his words, he was willing to give up a party to spend time with you. Who was this new and improved version of Rafe Cameron? 

“Well spend time together at this party.” 

Topper urged again, stronger this time. 

“We’ll think about it, bye Top.” 

Rafe’s tone was gruff and annoyed. Topper was still talking but Rafe hung up the phone not wanting to hear anything else he had to say. 

“We can go if you want to, Rafael.” 

You spoke sweetly, giving him a smile, as he hung up the phone. 

“Are you sure, angel? This is our day, we don’t have to.” 

He reassured you, placing a hand on your thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to spend time with the boys, it’s okay.” 

Your cheerful, radiant smile sent a shiver down his spine. When you gave him that smile, he knew he’d do anything and everything to make you happy until he breathed his last breath. You were such a ball of sunshine, his sunshine, that’s all Rafe could manage to think as he smiled at you, thankful for your kind, free-spirited, go with the flow nature. He almost couldn’t believe all you had gone through, he didn’t truly want to believe it. It hurt him to think of JJ’s hands on you, hurting you. 

Truth be told, Rafe didn’t need to go to this party, he didn’t even want to. But, you saying that he could meant a lot to him and it meant even more that you’d be there with him, on his arm. You laid with him for a bit longer, watching as the sun went completely down, the light pink and orange hues turning to the black of night before you began packing up the remnants of your picnic and headed to the truck, your hand in his. 

-

It was ten o'clock when you made it to Topper’s house and you felt yourself wanting to let loose a bit. As Rafe made his way around the island of the kitchen, he poured himself some tequila in a red solo cup and asked Topper what he had for you to drink. 

“Top, what do you have that y/n can drink?” 

Topper’s eyes looked like they were going to fall out of his head. 

“Shit! I’m so sorry, y/n. I didn’t pick anything up for you.” 

He placed his head in his hands. 

“It’s okay, Top. I can have a drink or two. It’s no big deal.” 

You shrugged your shoulders and your eyes met Rafe’s. He was angry. How could Top be such an idiot, he thought. How could he ask you to come and not think of you when buying beverages? You could tell the thought of alcohol being in your bloodstream made him uneasy. 

“There’s insulin in the truck, okay? You tell me if you start to feel weird.” 

He reassuringly rubbed his hands up and down your arms and craned his head down where you could reach him. Standing at six foot four, he towered over. He could see the lust present in your eyes and when he leaned in close enough, you locked your lips with his. The kiss was passionate and slow and it felt like everything in the room had disappeared, like it was just the two of you standing there. Then you heard the voice of your abuser. You pulled away and gave Rafe scared eyes as you surveyed the room, looking for where his voice was coming from. He knew what was happening, the fear that you displayed and the voice he had grown to hate told him what was wrong. He didn’t need to ask. 

“Hey, angel. Look at me. It’s okay. Need you to promise you’ll tell me if you start feeling bad before I get you a beer, okay?” 

“I promise I will.” 

You replied, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. He took you out of the kitchen and led you outside to the bonfire where Topper and Kelce stood, in hopes that getting you away from JJ would be enough to calm you. It was - you knew you were safe in the presence of Rafael, let alone of all three of them. Rafe stepped away for only a moment, grabbing you a beer from the cooler, and popping it open before handing it to you. The coolness of the bottle sent a shock through your arm. He made his way back behind you and you leaned up against him, his hands on your hips. You took a sip of the beer in your hands and leaned your head back against Rafe’s pectoral muscles, craning your neck to the side as he leaned down and peppered kisses to the exposed skin. You were entering bliss when you heard the all too eerily familiar voice of JJ Maybank. 

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

He taunted and Rafe’s eyes shot to his, the grip he had on your waist tightening in protection. Rafe scoffed, not wanting to give JJ the time of day or put you in harm's way by starting a fight. 

“You like my sloppy seconds, Rafael? Tell me, how does she taste?” 

“Don’t you dare call him that, JJ.” 

You spat. Rafael was his name so anyone could really use it. But not JJ. He didn’t know Rafe well enough to even use the nickname his parents had given him, let alone the name you used as a term of endearment. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know? There’s no sloppy seconds, when you never had someone to begin with, Maybank.” 

Rafe retorted, his voice sinister, begging JJ to egg him on. 

“Sweetheart, tell your boyfriend to watch his mouth or I'll put a matching scar on the other cheek.” 

He grinned cheekily and Rafe grabbed you by the shoulders, moving you out of his path as he stalked toward JJ. Topper and Kelce stood, chests puffed out at his remark, confused about what he meant but the promise of a threat towards you putting them in a mode of protection. 

“What the fuck did you say?!” 

Rafe growled in his direction. 

“I said, It’d be a real shame if I had to put another scar on her pretty little face because you don’t know how to behave, wouldn’t it?” 

The crunch of Rafe’s fist hitting JJ’s jaw echoed across the beach, as the blonde flew back under the weight of his right hook. Rafe moved swiftly toward JJ, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, landing not one, not two, but three more blows to his cheek. 

“You’re not ever gonna touch her again!” 

Rafe screamed as his fists relentlessly wailed into the side of JJ’s head, blood splattered up and landed underneath Rafe’s eye.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Cameron. I’ll touch her whenever and however I want to.” 

He coughed out, JJ was a cocky bastard who didn’t know when to shut the fuck up, even when he was being pummelled into the ground. At his remark, Rafe hit him so hard that he thought he was dead for a second. 

“You had enough, Maybank?” 

Rafe asked as he drew back from JJ, still holding him by the collar of his shirt.

“Not even close.” 

He grunted out before spitting in Rafe’s face, Rafe’s hands released JJ in an attempt to get the saliva off of his face. He was disgusted like anyone would have been. JJ took the opportunity and lunged on top of Rafe, pinning him to the ground, and laying a hit on Rafe’s cheek. You and Topper made your way to them quickly, no longer being onlookers. Topper pulled JJ off of Rafe from behind. JJ was too fast though and wiggled out of Topper’s grasp by the time Rafe was back to his feet. You quickly inserted your body in between them, thinking that was a sure-fire way to stop the fight. It wasn’t. Before you knew it, you looked in JJ’s direction out of the corner of your eye and his fist collided with your nose at full force. Shock littered Rafe’s face and anger infiltrated every fiber of his being. 

“Told you I’d touch her how I wanted to.” 

JJ remarked, a sinister smirk residing on his face. It was one thing to hear your first-hand account of JJ’s abuse but it was another to watch him put his hands on you, accidental or not, and Rafe went absolutely feral. 

“Topper, Kelce, get her out of here!” 

Rafe yelled, taking in your shaking, crying form, as your hands covered your face. Topper did as he was told, lifting you bridal style and taking you back towards the house, sitting you on the steps, instructing people to move out of the way before kneeling in front of you. Kelce followed shortly behind.

“Y/N, are you alright?” 

Topper questioned softly, grabbing your knee, and squeezing it to give you some reassurance. You continued crying. 

“Come on, pretty girl, let me see it.” 

“N-no, T-top.” 

You choked out. 

“I need to look at it, y/n.” 

“N-no.” 

You continued to sob uncontrollably. Topper made his way behind you, taking a seat and placing you in between his legs. 

“It’s okay. Rafe’s gonna be here soon, it’s gonna be fine.” 

He whispered into your hairline and squeezed you tightly into a hug. Kelce knelt down in front of you, slowly coaxing you to pry your hands away from your face. When you did, the shock that both boys felt at the sight of your nose was enough to send them reeling. Topper looked at Kelce, his eyes laced with venom and specific instructions and Kelce knew exactly what it meant. He needed to go to Rafe. He nodded his head reassuringly, placing a kiss on your cheek before stalking toward the bonfire where the fight had originated. When Kelce made it back down to where Rafe was, he held off on approaching him fully and instead watched as Rafe stalked toward the offender, hitting him so hard that he knew JJ Maybank was barely conscious. Truth be told, he wanted his best friend to pummel him into the sand, he wanted him to suffer, to be laying in a hospital bed for what he had done to you and Kelce would make sure that whether it was Rafe or not, that’s what was going to happen. He continued to look on at the scene, Rafe punching JJ over and over again. Blow after violent blow landing on JJ’s face, stomach, and chest. He deserved it, Kelce knew that, but what he didn’t expect was Rafe to continue the blows, with seemingly no end in sight. He began to wonder if Rafe could stop if he could control himself enough to be able to. He should’ve expected it because Rafe Cameron had been in love with you since pre-school and anyone who dared to try and hurt you or take you away from him was sure to pay a hefty price. Kelce had paid his the summer before eighth grade when he made a comment about your ever-growing breasts. Rafe had bruised his ribs and his ego for talking about you in such a vulgar way, especially in front of him. 

Kelce was brought out of his thoughts and began to make his way toward Rafe when he looked on and saw Rafe pinning JJ’s right arm behind his back, preparing to snap the bone in half if that’s what it took to send the message to the Pogue to stay the fuck away from his girl. 

“Rafael!” 

Kelce yelled at him, which got his attention immediately. The boys did not use his full name. Rafe looked in his direction with bewildered eyes. 

“I’m a little fucking busy, Kelceo.” 

He spat. 

“I get that, but you need to get up here and check on her. I think he broke her nose. Besides, she doesn’t need to watch you be an animal, Rafe. You’re not that guy anymore.” 

Rafe swallowed the words of his friend and gingerly nodded, realization hit him, Kelce was right. He threw JJ to the ground, knowing that for the first time in his fucking life Kelce wasn’t saying some dumbass remark, he wasn’t being an asshole or a bully, he was doing the right thing and currently, the right thing was keeping his best friend out of prison for murder. Instead, keeping him where he belonged, with you.  

Rafe’s tall figure quickly stalked towards you, fear in his eyes. Your hands covered your face as the blood pooled from your nose. The crunch of the bone could be felt with every nerve ending that inhabited your body. He kneeled in front of you on the balls of his feet, hands hovering over your figure, afraid to touch you in fear of hurting you worse.

“Baby, I need you to talk to me. How bad are you hurt?” 

“R-Rafael…”

You whimpered violently, your hands clutching to your face, blood pooling down past your chin. 

“Come on baby girl, let me see your face. I need to look to fix it.” 

He spoke sweetly and you trusted his every word. Slowly lifting your hands away from your face, your eyes met Rafe’s worrying form. You winced at the lack of pressure on your wound and fought to get your hands back to it. Before you could complete the movement, Rafe grabbed you by the wrists. He took in the already forming bruises under your eyes and the way the bridge of your nose now sat at a bend that protruded out to the left side. 

“Okay, baby. It’s okay. You look so pretty. But I think your nose is broken so I need to take you to the hospital, okay?” 

“I-, I don’t wanna go, Rafe.” 

You choked out a sob, whimpering into his chest, as he pulled you in. Blood soaked the shirt he was wearing but he didn’t care. You needed to be held and that’s what he was going to do. 

“I know baby, but I just want to get you checked out, okay? We gotta make sure you're alright.” 

You nodded, giving him permission. Which you were thankful he waited for and you felt his strong arms lift you up, carrying you bridal style, your head resting against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and the scrunch of his button-down moving up and down with each step he took. 

“I’m sorry, Rafael.” 

“Shh. Nothing to be sorry about, angel.” 

He cooed, placing a kiss on your hairline. 

“I’m getting blood all over your shirt.” 

“It’s okay, you can always buy me a new one.” 

He quipped, making you giggle, and even though it made you wince, you were thankful it was laughter created by him. You were brought out of your thoughts as Rafe finally came up on his truck. You marveled at how he opened the door, with such ease, not even shifting you in his arms to readjust. He was so strong and you loved it. He placed you into the passenger seat, buckling you in and reaching into the center console from which he retrieved a box of baby wipes. He had started keeping them in his truck after the first nosebleed he got during football practice and it had been a lifesaver ever since. Today, they’d be used for his girl and while that made him cringe, he was thankful he had them on hand. He slowly pulled them out of the container and stilled his hands, not wanting to spook you. 

“Okay, sweet girl, I’m going to clean your face up, alright?” 

You hummed in response, talking made it hurt worse and Rafe knew that so he didn’t probe you any further. Once he had your permission, he gently brought the wipes up to your nose and chin, wiping the blood off of your face as he stood between the passenger side door and the seat you occupied. You winced in pain at the feeling of the cold wipes against your bruised flesh. 

“I know baby, I know it hurts, I’m so sorry.” 

“s’okay Rafey.” 

You muttered. 

“There we go, my pretty girl is all cleaned up, no more blood.” 

He gave you that classic, bright, panty-dropping Rafe Cameron smile and pecked your lips lightly, careful not to touch your nose, but wanting to give you some sort of reassurance that you were safe. You gave him a forced smile and he closed your door, making his way to the driver's side, hopping in and starting the truck. He gave your thigh a reassuring squeeze before pulling off, heading toward St. Olive’s emergency department. 

- 

After hours of x-rays and CT scans and waiting, the doctor had confirmed yours and Rafe’s worst fears, you had a displaced nasal fracture, which meant they had to pop it back into place. Rafe knew the procedure would be painful, he had dislocated his shoulder before, and when it was popped back into place he screamed like a girl. The memory was enough to make him shudder and the fact that his sweet angel had to deal with that level of pain made him want to cry. He held your hand when a doctor and a nurse brought in long silver tools that looked like medieval torture devices. When your fear-stricken eyes met him, he almost collapsed. Rafe stayed up by your head, sitting on a stool beside you, stroking your hair as you lay flat on the bed. The anticipation of the pain you were about to feel took over all of your senses. You genuinely just wanted them to get it the fuck over with. They injected you with numbing medication first and then quickly got to work, inserting the tools up your nose and pressing hard against the bone. The crunch made Rafe feel sick and it made him feel even worse when he looked down at you and saw the tears running down your face. He placed a kiss on your forehead and continued running his fingers through your hair, while the doctors applied the splint to your nose. After the conclusion of the procedure, you were released from the hospital back into Rafe’s care. Luckily, you slept most of the way home from the pain medicine they had given you before your departure. As you and Rafe quietly made your way into the house, you were met with the unexpected - Ward. His voice bellowed through the thick air of the foyer and the lights flickered on. He was angry and you couldn’t blame him. He was just being a good dad, a good person. 

“Rafael Joseph Cameron! What were you two doing out so late?! I’m supposed to take care of her while her parents are out of town. How in the fucking world can I do that if you are gone all hours of the night?! Huh?!” 

“Sorry, Dad-” 

Rafe stuttered, Ward’s wrath was the only thing in the world that he seemed to be afraid of.

“It’s my fault.” 

You spoke, your voice soft and tender, which took Ward away from his anger just enough to voice his concern. He noticed the pained expression you displayed as you moved the ice away from your face and revealed the cast that sat on your nose. 

“What the fuck happened?!” 

Ward questioned, moving closer to you, hands out in search of your cheeks. You winced away from his touch and Rafe grabbed his wrists. 

“Dad, don’t touch it. Her nose is broken, they had to pop it back in place. She’s in a lot of pain.” 

Rafe all but barked at his father, his mind associating him as a threat. Ward’s eyes softened. 

“Sweetheart, how did this happen?” 

His voice was no longer bellowing through the halls of the mansion, it was soft, caring, and kind. It reminded you of Rafe, which was odd considering you were almost sure all of the good qualities in him came from his late mother, Kate. 

“Rafe was defending me at a party and the guy had him pinned down. I got in the middle and the guy hit me.” 

“Son, is this true? Why were you fighting? You know my rules about fighting.” 

Ward’s tone was still soft, but disappointment laced his voice. You knew his rules about fighting. Rafe wasn’t allowed to fight unless he was on the brink of death or he was protecting someone else. Ward was very strict about that and always had been. Though most of the tomfoolery and fights Rafe had been in over the years Ward was unaware of. 

“It was her ex. He’s hurt her before and he said something smart. I just lost it, Dad.” 

Rafe looked down, waiting for Ward’s wrath and disappointment. He lifted his son’s chin, so his eyes could meet his and placed his hand on his cheek. 

“I’m not mad, Rafael. I’m just glad you both protected each other tonight. Now, go upstairs, get some rest and we will talk in the morning.” 

Ward instructed and the two of you quickly obliged, heading for the staircase. Rafe led you with an outstretched hand that you clung to until you made it to the bedroom. 

“You want me to run you a bath, baby?” 

“I’d love that, Rafael. Thank you, sweet boy.”

You smiled as best you could, any movement hurting the newly broken part of your face. Rafe momentarily stepped out and into the bathroom, leaving his robe on the bed for you to change into. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable and as much as he wanted to gawk at your beautiful body, he knew now wasn’t the time and when the time came, it would be special. You quickly undressed, wrapping the robe around you. It was white and fluffy and warm, like a fleece blanket. The best part about it was the intoxicating smell of Rafe that lingered in every fiber. You made your way to the bathroom, walking into Rafe being bent over the side, hands dipped in the water to make sure it was just the right temperature. You stood there in the doorway, gawking at the way his bicep contracted as he leaned over the edge of the tub, pouring the bubbles in. Everything about him turned you on, even the way he was blissfully unaware of your presence. You cleared your throat and he turned his neck to look in your direction, arms still outstretched, muscles contracting, as his body leaned over the bath he was preparing for you. 

“Hey, pretty girl.” 

His sweet smile made your knees weak. How could he think you were pretty right now? ‘It’s just a nickname, he doesn't mean it’, you thought. 

“Hi.”

You spoke timidly, making your way into the bathroom and sitting on the lid of the toilet seat. You continued watching him as he finished up, turning the water off, and moving his body toward you.

“Are you ready to get in angel?” 

He asks, squatting in front of you, holding your hands in his. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” 

You sheepishly smiled, looking into his bright baby blues. He gently pulled you to your feet, holding your hands in his. 

“Let me step out so you can undress, baby.” 

“No.” 

You all but yelled at him, but quickly composed yourself. You wanted him to see you, to see all of you. 

“No?” 

He looked confused and it made you giggle. 

“It’s okay, Rafael. You’ve seen me in a bathing suit, this is no different.” 

You played it off, knowing it was indeed very different. You were about to be naked in front of the boy you had been in love with for your entire life. It was very fucking different. 

“It’s very different, sweetheart.” 

He replied, emphasis on the ‘very’. 

“It’s okay.” 

You reassure him with a smile and before he can protest, you drop the robe from your shoulders. He shuddered as it hit the floor and his eyes were invaded with the sight of you - your breasts, plump and beautiful, sitting pretty in front of him, begging, screaming, crying for him to touch them. You watched him swallow thickly and stepped closer to him, eyes boring holes into his. 

“Do you like what you see, Rafael?” 

You questioned, your lips turning upward into a devilish smirk. You knew what the fuck you were doing. Though you weren’t sure how you had never even been naked in front of JJ. This just felt so different, so easy. 

“You have no idea how much.” 

He replied simply, trying to keep his voice even. He took your hand again, helping you lower yourself into the bubbles and once you were seated he went to exit the room, so you could have time to relax after having such a hard day. 

“Rafael, where are you going?” 

“I just thought you’d want time to relax baby.” 

“Well, it’s hard to relax without you, ya know?” 

You playfully rolled your eyes as you joked. 

“So, you want me to sit with you, baby?” 

He was anxious for your answer, not truly knowing what you wanted from him at this moment - casual sex, intimacy, or both. 

“I want you to get in with me, sweet boy. Just hold me for a little while.” 

His lips turned up into a smile and he quickly stripped himself of his clothes, placing one foot into the tub and sitting behind you. He spread his legs, pulling you back into him and you laid your head on his chest. 

“How’s that, pretty girl? Is this what you wanted?” 

He smirked into a chuckle but as much as you wanted to laugh you heard that stupid nickname again and it made you cringe. 

“Don’t call me that, I’m not that.” 

Your voice was weak and feeble. He was taken aback by your declaration because you were that. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

“Do you not like it at all or just right now?” 

You almost cried at the sweet question and how well he knew you, how in tune he was with your feelings. 

“Just right now, I think. I just don’t feel very pretty right now.” 

“I know, baby. But, nothing has changed. It’s just a broken bone, it’ll heal.” 

“Yeah, I know. I’m just worried, ya know. I mean, what if when it heals, I don’t look the same or you don’t like me anymore?”

“Baby, you gotta slow down, okay? Just breathe. You are the most beautiful person in the world, inside and out, even when you’re hurt. That’s never going to change. I’m never going to not love you.” 

“Y-you love me?” 

“I do. I sort of always have.” 

He replied boldly. You couldn’t believe the words you were hearing, he loved you too. After all this time, he loved you too. 

“Is it okay if I clean you up, baby? I’d prefer if you weren’t covered in blood when I tell you that I love you too.” 

You questioned him and a smirk danced across your face. His eyes shot up at the confession laced in the back of the nonchalant nature of such a simple sentence, such a simple question. He was absolutely floored. You loved him too. How long had you loved him too? You took the wash rag in your hands, wringing it out and bringing it up to Rafe’s face, gently wiping the blood away from underneath his eyes, around his mouth, on his cheeks, and in his hairline. You dipped it back into the water, making sure to clean each wound with intent and care, placing a kiss on his nose when you were done. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone take care of me like that.” 

He gruffly spoke, attempting to clear his throat. The way you made him feel was electric, every fiber of his being, every nerve ending, every muscle was on fire for the way you cared for him. 

“Your mom did, I know that for a fact.” 

You spoke sweetly and he smiled, knowing you were exactly right. Kate loved him deeply and cared for him like this. Maybe that’s why he loved you so much, you reminded him so much of her. 

“Let’s go to bed, Rafael. I’m tired.” 

“I know you are baby.” 

He placed a kiss on your temple, taking your hands and helping you stand in the tub, wrapping a towel around your shivering form. He quickly dried off and helped you out of the tub, leading you back into his bedroom. You dried off the best you could and sat on the edge of the bed, the towel wrapped around you beneath your armpits. Rafe was rummaging through his dresser, looking for clothes to wear to bed for the both of you when you ushered him over to you. 

“Rafe, come here.” 

Your voice was soft, but it was coated with desire and longing. He took in your still naked form, thanking whatever Gods were on his side for letting him be here with you, thanking you internally for letting him see you like this. He made his way over to you, following your instructions, and sat on the bed next to you. He was nervous, being naked beside you sent chills down his spine, the water no longer providing any modesty for either of you. He ran his hand up and down his knees repeatedly, seeing him this nervous made you smile. 

“What is it, angel?” 

He questioned, afraid to touch you in fear of making you uncomfortable. 

“Can you just hold me before we put clothes on? I just want to stay like this for a little while.” 

“Is that all, angel? You had me worried for a second. Come here.” 

You let out a soft giggle, removing your towel and crawling onto his lap, straddling him, the tip of his dick brushing up against your core. He bit back a groan and you felt him grow hard beneath you. You knew what the fuck you were doing and you smirked as you laid your head on his chest. He held you there, rubbing soft circles into your back as he fought to gain his composure. Getting his dick wet was the last thing on his mind, even with your antics. He wouldn’t allow his physical desires to fuck this up. He finally had you, finally knew that you loved him and wanted him too and he wanted your first time to be special. He looked down at you at the exact moment that you looked up at him, his eyes locking with yours. You plunged your lips into his, bringing your hands up to his face. His mouth opened slightly, letting you in. Your tongues fell in sync with each other, like they were meant to wrestle against each other for all of eternity and maybe they were. You panted for air, pulling away, moving to place gentle kisses on his collarbones and his broad shoulders. He pulled back, pushing you a bit, creating a barrier between the two of you. You swallowed thickly at the hurt you felt, at the rejection. 

“We should stop.” 

He spoke, his tone even, and it shattered your heart into a million pieces.

“I-i’m sorry. I know I’m not experienced, I know that’s not attractive.” 

Your voice shook with embarrassment and your eyes went to your hands which were no longer holding on to Rafe’s arms and instead were in your lap. You squeezed them together, a habit you only took part in when you were extremely anxious. You cursed yourself, you couldn’t even kiss him right, you couldn’t do anything right. Rafe’s hands cupped both of your cheeks and his blue eyes could see the sadness laced in yours.

“Hey, don’t do that.” 

He spoke softly, continuing to cradle your face in his hands, staring into your eyes so he’d know you heard every word he was about to say. 

“Do what?” 

You asked innocently, unsure of whether he was referring to you kissing him or something else. 

“Don’t go to the bad place in your head. Everything’s okay.” 

You brought your eyes back down to your hands, as he let go of your face, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“Can you t-tell me w-what I did wrong?” 

Your face became a deepened shade of red and he furrowed his brows in confusion and his eyes softened. 

“Baby, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just-, if we do this when we do this, I want it to be when you’re my girl like officially. I don’t want us to have to guess and I want you to be sure I’m who you want your first time to be with.” 

Your jaw dropped at his confession, at his sweet words. You giggled. 

“Rafael, who did you think I was saving it for? I’ve been your girl since we were seven years old.” 

He leaned in and you followed, letting his lips softly graze yours, breath hitching in your throat at the feeling of him. You felt euphoric as he kissed you with equal parts passion, violence, and gentleness. His hands made their way to your breasts hovering over them a bit too long. He was still afraid to touch you but you needed him to. You growled into his mouth, which sent him into overdrive, all his senses burning for you. 

“Wrap your legs around me, love.” 

He whispered against your lips. You followed his directions and he stood with you in his arms, turning to place you flat on your back on his bed. He knelt in front of the bed, where your legs hung over the edge, and took your left leg into his hands, gently kissing from your ankle up to your thigh. You writhed under his touch, his mouth being mere centimeters from your core. 

“You’re beautiful, y/n. Thank you for letting me touch you like this.” 

He whispered out and you gave him a sheepish smile.

“Are you sure you want this?” 

He asked sweetly, breathing over the space where your thigh and vagina came together in an attempt to tease you. 

“I’m sure.” 

You breathed out, hands wrapping themselves in Rafe’s hair, pulling at the golden brown locks. At the sound of your permission, Rafe began kissing at your entrance, rubbing his thumb over your g spot ever so slowly. You wriggled under his large hands, groaning loudly when the sensation of his lips met your sensitive nub over and over. 

You’re so utterly lost in the kisses, in the way his mouth feels against you that you almost forget to breathe. 

“I’m gonna put a finger in baby, need you to tell me if it hurts, okay?” 

You eagerly nodded and became undone as his finger bottomed out inside of you. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head. 

“How’s that feeling, baby?” 

“S-so g-good.” 

You said, breathlessly. 

“Gonna add another, baby. Tell me if it hurts.” 

You again nodded as quickly as your head would move. He slid in another one of his long fingers, bottoming out inside of you, letting you adjust before beginning to move them back and forth, picking up the pace and curling his fingers as he felt you clench around his hand, reaching your climax. 

“Rafe, I think I have to pee.” 

You spoke sheepishly and he chuckled. 

“That’s not pee, baby. That’s your body telling you that what we’re doing is making you feel good. You’re about to have your first orgasm.” 

He smiled reassuringly and you gingerly nodded, again ashamed at your lack of knowledge and experience. Rafe pulled his fingers out of you and you missed the contact. You let out a tangled whine. 

“It’s okay, baby. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Thank you so much for letting me touch you like this.” 

You smiled at his reassurance, running his fingers through his hair as he placed kisses under your belly button, where your largest pump site scars resided. 

“I love these scars, baby. I love you so much.” 

“I love you, Rafael.” 

With no warning, he plunges his tongue inside of your delicate entrance and you feel yourself clench around him, your stomach knotting up once more and your body chasing the high that he was giving you. You hoped what he said was true and that you weren’t about to pee in his mouth, as the damn was breaking around you and the knot within your stomach busted, releasing every feel-good hormone your body held. All you could see were stars as your vision blackened. You looked to Rafe after a moment, your chest heaving up and down. His pupils were blown, desire lacing them. 

“How was that, beautiful?” 

He questioned, looking up at you with a smirk as he placed kisses over your tummy once more. 

“Let’s do it again, but this time, I want you inside me.” 

You quipped in a serious tone. You needed him to know you were serious and you wanted him, all of him. 

“As you wish, baby. Are you on the pill or do you want me to use a rubber?” 

He asked gently. 

“I’m on the pill, sweet boy. Thank you for asking, but I want to feel every inch of you.” 

He simply nods in response and parts your legs a bit more, throwing your ankles over his shoulders as he positions himself in front of your entrance. You watch him, eagerly waiting for the moment he’s going to be inside of you. He hovers over your face, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“Honey-, listen, this is going to hurt a bit, okay? But I promise it’ll feel better quickly. I need you to talk to me through it, okay? I need to know how you’re feeling the whole time.” 

“Okay, baby. I promise.” 

You smiled brightly up at the gorgeous man hanging his head over you, leaning up to kiss his nose. 

“I’m ready, Rafael.” 

He nodded and kissed you passionately on the lips, moving down the entirety of your jaw and neck before landing on your breasts, grazing them with his tongue. You sharply inhaled at the new sensation. He gently bit down, sucking at your hardened peak. You groaned loudly, letting him know to stop teasing you. 

“Rafe-” 

You all but yelled his name, letting him know he was frustrating you. 

“Patience. Tell me what you need, baby.” 

His voice remained sweet, he sensed your need for him. 

“Put it in, already!” 

You grunted and he let out a belly laugh. 

“Okay, baby. All you had to do was ask.” 

He smiled, lining his tip up with your entrance once more and gently pushing in. Before you could even process what had happened, tears leaked out of the sides of your eyes. He was big, much bigger than you had anticipated. Rafe leaned down, wiping your tears away. 

“Am I hurting you, angel? You can tell me, I won’t be upset.” 

“No, it’s just uncomfortable.” 

He gingerly nodded, knowing what you meant. 

“I know baby, I’m sorry. It’ll be over soon.” 

He gently placed kisses all over your face while he bottomed out and waited for you to adjust to his size. 

“Okay, you can start moving.” 

You spoke, the feeling of his dick sending you into a euphoric state. Nothing has ever made you feel this good in your entire life. Rafe’s pace quickened as he pounded in and out of you. You felt the familiar knot grow in your stomach and threw your head back. 

“How’s it feeling, pretty girl? You’re so pretty like this, baby. Thank you for letting me see you like this.” 

“S-so good, Rafe.” 

He hit you with another hard thrust, scraping against your sweet spot once more.

“Rafe, I’m gonna cum-” 

You gasped. 

“It’s okay, baby. I’m right behind you. Go ahead, angel.” 

He whispered into your hairline as he leaned down, peppering kisses on your collarbones. The new position let him hit your sweet spot and you screamed out as the second wave of pleasure wracked through your body. 

Rafael-, I love you so much.” 

You screamed out as he held you, letting you ride out your orgasm. He kissed your forehead as you came down from your high. He pulled out of you, already missing the warmth.  

“I love you too, sweet girl. Are you mine?” 

“I’m your girl, forever.” 

You breathed out against him, letting him run into the bathroom to grab something to clean up with before cuddling into his chest and falling into a blissful sleep. 

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[writers-potion]

Got anything for dialogue

Writing Dialogue 101

Dialogue is conversation, nothing more, nothing less. The catch is: diagloue is EDITED conversation. It must be more concise, purposeful and witty than the everyday sentences we speak, while sounding natural.

The Purpose of Dialogue

Diaglue is definitely a fiction elements that pops everything up and out. Thus, dialogue is going to have more impact than your normal paragraphs, in order to:

Characterizes/reveals motives

Sets the mood in the story

Intensifies the story conflict

Creates tension and suspense

Speeds up your scenes

Add bits of setting/backgronud

Communicates the theme

Matching the Dialogue to the Genre

The dialogue in a book should speak the reader's language. There is a type of voice that suits each genre/category of fiction, and we must understand what matches the reader expectations and rhythm of the plot we are writing.

Magical Dialogue

"Do not kill him even now. For he has not hurt me. And in any case I do not wish him to be slain in this evil mood. He was great once, of a nobel kind that we should not dare to raise our hands against." - The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkein

"As much as I want you and want to be with you and part of you, I can't rear myself away from the realness of my responsiblities." - The Bridges of Madison County, Robert James Waller

This is the language of The Hobbit, Star Wars, The Lord of the Rings, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.

When writing literary and mainstream fiction (that is targeted at the general public rather than a target audience), we need to go with what sounds real, even with a magical setting

Science fiction and fantasy can be more unreal, i.e. things like "May the Force Be With You."

In romance, magical dialogue takes on a differen form. It's magical in that it transcends the way we talk to each other in normal society. Magical in that all of it makes perfect sense and is said in such eloquent langauge that we marvel at it while at the same time knowing that if we are left to ourselves, we would say something absolutely banal.

Cryptic Dialogue

"You know, the condom is the glass slipper of our generation. You slip it on when you meet a stranger. You dance all night, then you throw it away. The condom, I mean. Not the stranger." - Fight Club, Chuck Palahniuk

This is the dialogue in literary and religious stories that dealw ith abstract ideas and vague concepts and has double meanings. Readers aren't meant to understand theses right away.

These bits of dialogue plant sublimnal messages in the reader's mind that help communicate the theme later on, ultimately making sense.

Cryptic dialogue is difficult to do well. If we're not careful, we'll end up sounding preachy, moralistic and dogmatic.

You need to be able to view the world in different perspectives.

Descriptive Dialogue

The literary, fantasy and historical story often relies on dialogue for worldbuilding (expplaining history, magic rules, etc.)

The author's goal in descriptive dialogue is to provide the reader with information. However, the character's goal cannot be sacrificed for the author's. Dialogue can still have tension and suspense and can be inserted into a scene of action so the story doesn't bog down while the readers get some info.

Shadowy Dialogue

In shadowy dialogue, the character's job is to keep the reader suspended in a state of terror/suspense. Then you periodically tighten and loosen the tension.

The key here is uncertainty. The reader cannot trust the speaker, so we're always questioning him, wondering whether he's speaking truthfully or is presenting the full picture.

Keep the tone as dark of possible, using action and background as supporting tools.

Make it cryptic, or even better, offering an omnious threat of what is to come.

Provocative Dialogue

This is the type of dialogue that conveys the theme, talking about the "universla truth" your book is trying to convey.

Readers like to be challenged in their thinking, provoked to consider other ways of thinking, and shaken up in their belief systems with a fresh perspective about the world.

Consider this example from To Kill A Mockingbird:

"...but there is one way in this country in which all men are created equal - there is one humna institution that makes a pauper the equal of a Rockfeller, the stupid man the equal of an Einstein, and the ignornant man the equal of any college president."

There is no way we can read this and not think about something that is bigger than our daily lives.

Make your readers squirm, and shock them out of their comfort zones.

Uncencored Dialogue

Uncencored dialogue in YA stories are of young people, but that doesn't mean it's filled with hip-hop words and slag.

While adults cencor themselves when they speak, teenagers haven't yet learned that skill so their dialogue is more raw, edgy and honest.

Readers of YA novels expect realism, so make it as authentic as possible. The last thing we want to is for our characters to be brash and honest, but NOT sound like they've just stepped out of Planet Way Cool.

For example:

"What if he doesn't like me back?" "You are too much of a chicken to do anything aboutit but mope."

As an adult, how often do you admit fear of rejection out loud to another, or call out your friend to her face? In YA-type of dialogue though, we can just write what comes into these characters' minds.

So that sums up the different types of dialogue. Consider the nature of your plot, what your readers and the genre of the story you are writing to choose an appropriate way for your characters to speak!

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[admirationandromantics]

Going overboard, Epilogue

(He looks so fine, I can't handle it. Can handle him though, just like you're about to do). Anyways, this is the final end of this story. This has been such a great experience, and I've loved writing it. I know many are waiting for the next one (which will be with Chris), but please give me some time to get started on that. Right now, I have a bunch of requests to take care of, which I will also be doing while posting the next story.

Again, thank you all for the encouragement and support throughout this, and don't worry. Josh is NOT gone, you can request as much as you want. Anyways, as always, my blog is 18+ and so is this post (hint hint) so just enjoy! <3

Luckily, I got to know that both Matt and Jessica survived. Mike was so happy when they told us. Jess looked like a wreak though, I’ve never seen her like that, physically or mentally. She told us that she didn’t think she’d survive if it weren’t for Matt. I’ve never seen gratitude like what I saw on Mike’s face that day. He went straight for Matt, pulling him into a hug, leaving him stunned. 

The police were quick to separate all of us, getting each one’s story. I told the truth, everything there was to say, but I don’t think they believed me. It hurt telling them about Josh. I feared that he’d serve time, that he would stay behind bars for a long time. They decided that there would be no trial, considering his mental state. I heard his laughter from the other room, crying by myself as I wondered what he would remember, and if the traumas we went through would be the drop that spilled the glass. They decided he was a danger to others and himself, and it didn’t take long to get him to a clinic and try some new medication. Again, after another traumatic trip to that damn mountain, I didn’t keep in touch with him. They didn’t let him use his phone, and the only people allowed to see him were his parents. After four months, they let Chris visit, but it had been a long time since I saw them, so I don’t think that letting me visit was even an option. 

The friend group split. I don’t know what happened with Emily and Matt, last I heard, they were still together, but that was a while ago. Jess and Mike broke up after a while. I heard it was bad, and Jessica was the one who made the cut. Sam still talked to him, so I got some info here and there, but he is not the sort of man I really wish to be in contact with. 

I still talk to Sam, and we continue our daily coffees, only now, we talk about the last events that happened on that cursed place. She seems like she’s falling down some rabbit hole about mythological creatures and folklore. I’ve told her that we should forget everything, that maybe talking to a therapist could be good for her. She doesn’t listen, and I’m just trying to keep her present, afraid that she’ll end up as Josh. Isolated, and supervised continuously. 

I’m often invited over for gaming nights with Chris and Ashley. The games vary, but it doesn’t always feel as welcoming as thought. I often feel like an intruder, like they would feel bad by hanging out together without me. I tried to talk to Ashley about it, but she assured me that they love me, and us being together is a good way to deal with everything. I still feel like a third wheel, sitting in the corner while they have flirty interactions or Chris steals a kiss. Still, they both feel bad for me, that much I’m sure of. One of the good things that come out of it is that Chris tells me about his visits. In the start, Josh had been confused and scared, pleading with him to get him out of there. Now, six months later, he was better, the medicine finally working and pieces falling back into place. He’s bored out of his mind, joking that if they didn’t give him at least a console, he would kill himself. Chris laughed when he said that, but my breath hitched and I suddenly felt unsure. Ashley noticed, walking over to me and telling me that Josh joking like this just meant that he felt better. They’d gotten used to my cries. I was never this bad before, but even though I didn’t have a reason, it still came out. Every day, several times. I had to lock myself in the bathroom or my bedroom to relieve myself. 

***

I cut the tomato in thin slices, arranging them in fine lines on the buttered toast. A knock is heard on the door. “Just walk in Sam, it’s open” I shout, knowing when she usually comes over on her morning run. I hear the door open, footsteps out of the hallway. I grab the salt, carefully shaking it over the tomato to not get too much. Two hands make their way around my waist, pulling me into a tight body. I stop breathing as I know that this is not Sam, this is a man’s body. I look down, hands looking awfully familiar. 

“Hey” he whispers against my ear, and I feel tears coating my eyes. I turn around, looking at a smiling Josh. 

“Hey” I answer, not able to hide the surprise in my voice. My hands travel behind his neck, locking him in place. His dark circles aren’t as bad anymore, and he does look quite healthy. I still don’t know what to say, shocked by his sudden presence. He smirks, tilting his head and looking at me with sceptical eyes. 

“Well, isn’t this a first time for you not knowing what to say”

“I-I”

“We’re getting there��”

“Hey, you bombarded me wi-” I’m interrupted by a kiss, his head moving in sync with mine, hunger, lust and eight months without contact pooling out as a stress-relief. He grabs me harder, taking hold of my thighs and lifting me up on the counter. God, I’ve missed him. My legs cross behind him, pulling him deeper into me. His lips are soft and warm, connecting with mine as I open my mouth a bit, letting him in deeper. I whine, feeling the tears fall from the corners of my eyes. His hands move to cup my face, thumbs brushing away the wetness. 

“We should probably talk” I say between sobs. 

“That’s why I came over” he answers, pulling away a bit. I waste no time, taking his arm and forcing him back, his lips on mine while I sob. His sisters, the prank, the wendigos, everything poured into me slowly coming out. 

“Sorry” I whisper. “You’ve just come out, this isn’t what you need right now” I squeak, trying to compose myself. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here, and I’m not leaving again”

This makes me break down even harder, being reminded that every time we rekindle, something gets in the way. He lays my head on his flannel-coated shoulder, letting me cry till I can’t breathe anymore. He holds me up, making sure that I don’t fall off the counter while leaving sweet small kisses on my forehead. When the air is finally quiet, he pulls away, thumbs rubbing my cheeks. I feel the mascara being smudged, though that’s more my fault than his. 

“God, I’d already gotten ready today, and now I guess I have to do it again” I laugh, trying to look a little presentable. 

“You’re beautiful” he whispers, awe in his eyes. I stop the tears and kiss him yet again. 

After a while, we make our way to the sofa, determined to talk about this now, to get it over with. I walk to the bathroom to freshen up. 

“Are you sure you need that? What if you start crying again?” he shouts from the living room. 

“Haha, I’ve gotten everything out now” I laugh back. 

“You sure? It would be awfully inconvenient for you to spend half of the time in the bathroom… alone…” 

“Almost done Josh!”

I walk back out, and he’s still spread out on the sofa. I sit down on top of him, holding his shoulders as I lean down to kiss him. His hands wander, gripping my thighs and ass. 

“You said we should talk?” I tease, knowing he’s getting riled up. 

“No, no, no, no. Fuck talking, let’s do this instead” he urges, gripping me harder and pressing me down on him. I want him so bad, but we do indeed have to talk. 

“We have to” I whisper. 

“I know”

The hours go by as we talk about the incident. I get especially emotional when we talk about the prank, how he tricked me, several times. He wasn’t in his right mindset, but he would do everything in his power to get me to trust him again. He had talked to the others, but the other part of the group decided not to keep in contact. It was a toxic friend group anyway, I comment. He talked about his time in the facility, how it was scary in the beginning, cause he didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. Luckily, Chris had told him about the wendigos, but he still had to pretend they didn’t exist and they were a figment of his imagination when they did his mental evaluation. He just wanted to put everything behind him, and move forward. After a while, the mood lightens, as we stop talking about the deep stuff. 

“You hit me!” he laughs, hitting me in the arm. 

“Well, I thought you were a fucking Psycho!” I defend myself. 

“That wasn’t the only time!”

“The way you were talking? You asked for it!” 

“You know, I should really come up with a revenge plan for you”

“Let’s not forget about what you did”

“Nah, that doesn’t count, I was insane”

“You can’t play the mentally ill-card on this”

“Yes I can”

I hit him again, and he grabs my arms, lifting them behind him, causing me to fall flat down on his stomach. 

“I think, maybe we’ll go to the bedroom, you get undressed, and I can start leaving some marks on you” he whispers, fingers still entwined with mine. 

“Really, what kind of marks are we talking about?” I skeptically ask, looking up at him. 

“Maybe a bit similar to the ones you left on me, just without the wood” 

“You’re sadistic”

“Some things can’t be cured”

I reach up to him, straddling his lap and kissing him. 

“Got something else planned?”

“Eight months gave me time to think”

“And what are your thoughts?”

“Something about you, tied up, blindfolded, begging me to touch you…” he starts, and I feel myself getting wetter. His breathing is hot, and he can’t stop staring at my lips. I smile, slowly grinding on him. Making him let out a groan. “Fuck, and then I’ll teach you a lesson” he says, hands moving to my thighs to help the movements. I bite my lip, eager to get into it, to let him get into me. 

“Fucking hell, you need to stop that” he whines. 

“You’re the one leading me” I tease, caressing his arms, making him aware of his grip on my thighs. I lean forward, kissing his neck, small pecks all over. He makes a small whimpering sound when I kiss him right below his ear, so I bite down. He jolts, giving out a loud moan. I kiss the pain away, lightly sucking. His hands wander under my shirt, grabbing my waist. In response, I grace his neck with my nails, feeling him shiver under my touch. 

He takes out his hands, placing them under my thighs. I pull away, wondering what he’s doing. 

“Jos- woah!” I yelp as he lifts me over his shoulder, holding onto my legs so I don’t fall down behind him. 

“Josh! What the hell are you doing?” I yell. He stands up, making the ground so far away that I don’t dare to scramble. He smacks my butt, making me gasp while walking over to the bedroom. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t like it. 

“You know, you’re gonna pay” he says, something sinister in his voice. 

“Oh, really?” I tease, earning myself another smack. 

“Don’t try to be a smartass, that’ll not get you anywhere” he says, caressing my legs, one of his hands moving up between my thighs. 

“Josh” I say, grabbing hold of his waist from upside down. 

“What can I do for you?”

“You can put me down”

“I thought you were into the whole Spiderman-thing” he asks, opening the bedroom door. 

“Well, that’s when we’re face to face” 

“I guess I’ll have you upside down some other time then” he says, bowing down, making me slam into the bed. I shriek, surprised by the action. He doesn’t waste time, leaning over me, capturing my lips in his. It starts hungry, but eventually finds a rhythm filled with passion and regret. I open up, letting him inside. Our breaths are heaving in sync, and I grab both sides of his face, eating him up. 

“Eager are we?” he teases, but I have no more room for jokes. 

“Eight months Josh…”

“Yeah, I know”

We continue the assault on each other, chests heaving and bodies grinding. With every passing second, my body grows hotter and wetter. I grab hold of the hem of his shirt, dragging it off him. I’m mesmerized. 

“Have you been working out?” 

“Wasn’t much to do there” 

“Fuck” I mumble as I feel him up, memorizing his lines. He eagerly drags my shirt off, shocked by the fact that I’m not wearing a bra. 

“And you were saving this sight only for me?” 

“Only you” I smile, loosening his belt. He grabs both my hands, holding them over my head. 

“Let’s not get right to the main course” he purrs in my ear. 

“Oh, please, I’ve waited long enough”

“Patience” he whispers, voice vibrating hot against my skin. He leaves a trail of kisses, starting on my lips, moving slowly down my neck. With his free hand, he grabs my breast, squeezing and fickling with my nipple. I moan from his touch, legs automatically pressing against each other, longing for some type of friction. My core aches for him, being turned on for so long that I feel like a primal animal. He notices, and places his knee in between, making me grind down on him. 

“You’re too eager”

“Fucking hell Washington, if you don’t do anything in the nex-”

“Oh my, of course. Whatever you say m’lady” he smiles, entertained by my longing for him. He strokes his fingers over my wetness, noticing that I’m drenched through. I ache for him, him and his touch. I have for eight fucking months. 

“God, you have been waiting for this” he calmly exclaims, hand unbuttoning my pants and sliding under. He goes into my panties, coming in contact with my folds immediately. I whine, feeling his faint touch. His thumb starts rubbing circles around my clit, and the longing pleasure I’ve been waiting for seeps through my body. I let out loud moans which are drowned by his kisses. 

“You’re doing so good for me” he whispers, inserting one of his fingers. He pushes in and out, continuing to put pressure on my clit. The knot in my stomach tenses abnormally quick, and I throw my head back as he starts kissing my collar. He chuckles against my skin, noticing how down bad I am for him. He doesn’t stop, working his fingers and toying with my breasts until I come all over him. 

“Good, good” he whispers as I breathe heavily. He makes his way down, taking hold of my pants and dragging them completely off. Before he goes down again, he takes off his own, leaving him in only his boxers. I see his hardness through the fabric, the size of it drenching my already soaked underwear. He lies on top of me, hand caressing my stomach and moving to my waist. He takes hold, spinning me around on my stomach. I give a yelp, but he quickly puts a bit of his weight on top, caging me under him, unable to move. 

“Don’t think you’re getting away that easy” he whispers as his hand moves down to my panties, dragging them off. 

“Fuck, Josh please” I plead, having been ready for him for a long time. I immediately hear a loud smack, before feeling stinging pain on my ass cheek. I cry out, and he moves his hand to rub the painful area. 

“Tell me exactly what you want” he purrs in my ear, hand not moving. 

“I want you Josh” I whine, feeling tears in the corners of my eyes. A loud smacking noise fills the room again, but this time I moan out his name. He smirks, hand rubbing soft circles, numbing the pain. 

“You need to go into more detail than that” 

My mind is fogged, the instincts being mere sexual as everything he does and says turns me on more. 

“You’re practically dripping, like getting manhandled that bad?” he comments, fingers gracing my warmth and making me give out a choked cry. 

“Just tell me what you want and I’ll get you right off” he coys, smirking as he kisses my neck. I try to steady my voice, but it still comes out in the most erotically desperate sounds ever made.

“Please Josh, I want you inside me, now, right now” 

“Oh really?”

“Yes please, please” 

“I love it when you beg for me” he whispers as he takes off his underwear. Finally. He takes hold of me, turning me back on my back so we’re facing each other. 

“I wanna see you” he says, leaning down and kissing me. His cock brushes up against my folds, coating itself and pressing. I gasp as he goes inside me, painfully slow. He grunts as he gets all the way in, grabbing my thigh hard, definitely leaving a mark. 

“God you’re beautiful” he whispers, hand coming to my face, thumb swiping away a tear. He leans even further down, making sure our chests are pressing up against each other, and my arms move under his, and hold onto his back. 

“Josh, I’ve missed you so much” I stammer, the ecstasy of everything blurring my mind and messing with my senses. All I feel is his eyes staring, his hot breath, and immense pleasure. He starts moving against me, pelvis grinding on my clit, with no need for extra factors. I take him in, soaking and moaning, wishing that we didn’t lose two years of this. His breaths quicken, moans passing through his lips. I clench around him as I come again, and he rides the orgasm out with me, capturing my lips once again in a sloppy and panting kiss. 

“I love you” he whispers, still moving and breathing heavily. My heart flutters as he says it, my legs pressing him deeper into me. 

“I love you too” I say back between gasps, taking hold of his neck and pulling him to my lips. He goes faster, and I feel the slight overstimulation as he continues, making me whine. He gets me to the edge again, using his hand to fondle my breasts and sucking my neck. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna-” he pants. 

“Yes, please do!” I urge, coming another time around his cock, tightening. This throws him over, and he buries himself deep inside as he comes as well. He collapses on top of me, the sudden weight knocking my breath out. It quickly comes back, and I fold my arms around him, hugging and kissing his hairline. 

“Don’t leave” I force out, breathless and weak. 

“Never” he answers, just as exhausted.

[toriaanin]

Shit Stirrer: A great cause with a dash of irony

Jumping into my first blog post with Nicola!

Looking fresh, well rested, gorgeous and Christmas ready from - I'm assuming - her family's Galway living room, Nicola posted a photo of herself today wearing 1 of 8 specially designed "Saltburn Insults" t-shirts. These limited edition t-shirts were created by Carey Mulligan and Emerald Fennell (director) to both celebrate one year since the release of the movie Saltburn on Netflix and, more importantly, to help raise funds for War Child UK's "Emergency Christmas Appeal" fundraising efforts. War Child UK's single goal is to ensure a safe future for every child affected by war. This is a cause we know Nicola stands firmly behind! If you're interested in supporting this important cause, follow this link for the t-shirt Nicola is wearing... or scroll to the bottom of the Everpress page to see the other 7 "Saltburn Insults" t-shirts on offer: https://everpress.com/warchild-x-shitstirrer#more-info

So what, you ask, did I mean about that dash of irony?

Look at the angelic look on her face. Nicola, a shit stirrer? Shady Whistledown herself?! Maybe, perhaps sometimes 😉

Over the last week the Lukola fans in my chat groups as well as those sharing thoughts in my live streams, or those sending me DMs, have been expressing the same thing: exhaustion! They (heck... me too. We!) are tired and feeling a whole lot of frustration. Some quotes:

"I feel like we're all here trying to defend Nicola and Luke, trying to fight off all the negative propaganda being put out by the Jakolas and trolls, and all the while Nicola is the one feeding much of the {front facing} narrative. I'm tired and discouraged." "I believe they're together - 100% I do - but I'm tired of not knowing for sure and it's annoying to spend so much time worrying about a couple that may only come clean years from now, or if they get papped." "I'm sick to death of breadcrumbs. I want the whole loaf now!"

Yet we also laughed at the ironic humour in Nicola as a "Shit Stirrer"; the primary distributor (and organizer of other distributors, with Shonda's & JVN's help sometimes) of breadcrumbs, morsels and golden nuggets! The breadcrumbs are so much fun to find, and they can also be confusing and frustrating! Shit stirrer indeed. Xx

Nicola also has ruffled some feathers because of her political and social beliefs (support of the LGBTQ community [Gay Icon!] and abortion rights in Northern Ireland), humanitarian work. From my perspective, GOOD work! To others who perhaps have a vested interest in the status quo? Shit stirrer indeed. Xx

Yes, we Lukola fans know that Nicola and Luke don't owe us anything and that privacy is their right. We also know that Tomdaya took years before they acknowledged their relationship publicly. We should be prepared for the long haul, yes? Yes. 🥴 Le sigh.

As we enter into a new year I know the question for me will be how much of my time, energy and heart will I place into all things Lukola? Over the next week or so I'll think about the wonderful connections I've made in our Lukola community (and the angst I've experienced because of divisions)... I'll think about how fun breadcrumb speculation is, how I relish the hunt for golden nuggets (those solid truths that are ballast for our ship)... and of course the enthusiasm (and agony) that I feel for the ongoing watch for launch.

Today I'm feeling tired and at times, discouraged. My plan is to relax, reassess and come to 2025 with a fresh mindset. No obsession... just patience and fun will be the aim... and keeping up with this blog too.

Will you be on the ship with me in 2025? Or will Nicola and Luke launch before the New Year and save us all from the misery?! Ha!!

Cheers to Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Merry Seasonal Celebrations... and to my fellow Commonwealth Countries, Yay for Boxer - I mean Boxing - Day (Dec 26th)!!

P.S. Best doggos in the whole wide world! Convince me otherwise ;-)

[starrywooyo]

DEAREST: CHP ONE

pairing: ot8! ateez x fem reader

genre: mafia au

!!warnings(per chapter)!! !NONE FOR NOW!

word count: 1.5K

taglist: (lmk if you want removed/added

@scuzmunkie @santineez @yoonshiiu @stayatinykatsy @nuggiesnuggetdog04 @hon3ysun

synopsis: new town, new city, new country again.. will it be permanent this time? the friends you make.. are they honest? relationships? who's telling the truth..? what is the truth.. who should you believe?

notes: first official chapter~~ hellooo! I'm s sorry it took so long.. its not as long a chapter i would like but id rather post this the now and give you something than keep you guys waiting longer.. with that.. i hope you guys enjoy and.. happy new year!! happy 2025!!

series masterlist | prologue | next chapter | main masterlist |

 You walk up a few more steps and take a seat at the long table.. ‘Wooyoung’ who you've just been introduced to turns around in his seat leaning his head on his now propped up arms.

“So pretty.. Where are you from never seen you around here before~” he smiles up at you

“Ahaha yeah.. Um.. I'm actually not from anywhere really..” you say and he looks up at you confused..

“My father.. He moves locations at work a lot so we’re never in one place or country for too long..i was born here though and did stay here in my grandparents estate until i was like 7 or 8..”

“Ooooh I see.. So.. how’d you know our Yun, pretty? Are you together?”

“Oh- no no no!! Nothing like that.. Apparently his family is friends with mine? Or well my grandparents..?” you answer back very quickly..

“So you don't have a boyfriend then?”

“Wooyoung!” yunho warns

“What! It's valuable info.. I don't want some guy coming after me if she does..”

“I uh.. I dont no… i'm never in a place long enough to.. “

He opens his mouth to speak again but the lecturer enters the room.

“Good Morning class. Oh? It appears we have a new face in our homeroom.. Hi i’m Mr Kim, this homeroom isn't anything strict please just think of it as a chill space before your lectures. If you want to introduce yourself you can.”

You stand and clear your throat.

“Hi I'm y/n.. I uh.. I've never been in one place too long but I hope to make and be good friends with you all.”

Some students smile, others are just not very interested..

“Thank you y/n.. I hope you enjoy being in our homeroom and that the guys will treat you kindly.. Now.. lets see here…” the homeroom teacher trails off and begins daily announcements and just little things we should know before the day starts. Then we just have free time.. To which yunho uses to look over your schedule properly.

“Mmm.. seems you’re in the same building as me most of the time so i can take you to your classes while you get used to the layout.. Apart from your art lecture period.. That's on the whole other side of the campus…” he trails off

“I don't mind escorting the pretty lady to the music and arts dept~ would be an honor as a gentleman” wooyoung says, turning around in his seat.. Kinda biting his lip. 

“To hell I'd let you take her woo.. I'll get hongjoong to take her..”

“WHAT- oops.. I mean what.. You’d let hongjoong take her? Isn't he worse than me-”yunho quickly kicks the back of Wooyoung's chair.

“Fine.. jongho then.. He's got music during that period so music rooms just down the hall from the art dept. Don't worry y/n.. Jongho.. He's quiet but he's nice.”

..

So the day goes on and yunho true to his word, escorts you to all your lectures and picks you up from them. 

It's a bit overwhelming needing to introduce yourself in every class but.. It had to be done.. In all honesty you just wanna go back home, you're that socially drained. 

Thankfully it's lunch.. 

“Yeah so this is the cafeteria… The lunches and stuff they serve are pretty good.. Open all day so if you ever get an extra free period you can always come in for a snack or y’know.. Or of course bring your own lunches, that's totally okay too.." Yunho says as he holds the door open for you.. 

You both collect a tray of food and side dishes 

“Come on, you can sit with me”

“Is that.. Really a good idea..?” 

Yunho lets out a breathy laugh

 “I mean sit yourself if you want but.. Isn't it better to sit with someone on the first day? Y’know socialise? Besides.. You've got art next and jonghos sitting with wooyoung already so wouldn't it be good to know your new escort for your last lecture??” 

“I.. I suppose you’re right.” 

So you follow him to the table where the two other guys sit

“Ooooh hey again pretty~”

“Wooyoung.” yunho warns again just like in the class 

“Oh y/n this is jongho.. Jongho y/n shes new”

“Yeah.. she's the girl you got told to help this morning.. I know..” jongho says as she eats a bit of his food. 

“Yeah.. that's right.. I was hoping you could take her to the art and music department on campus after lunch since it's on the other side of campus from my last few lectures..? You're going to the music room right?”

Jomgho hums at that..

“I suppose I could take her.. For you..” he says

“Thank you..” you say 

To that he just kinda gives you a smile.. 

The rest of the lunch you just eat in the sort of awkward silence with wooyoung occasionally asking you a question.. 

Then once you finished your lunch you all take your trays and put them away and discard any rubbish. 

Yunho bids you all farewell as he heads in the opposite direction and you just silently follow jongho through the building until you get to the exit to walk across the campus towards the art and music department building.. 

“So.. you do music?” you ask him

He nods a little

“Yeah… that's right..”

“What do you play..?”

“Guitar… I sing a little too..”

Oh.. he plays.. 

“That's nice.. Guitar and singing go well with each other..” 

He just hums again and gets his id card out and buzzes the door open to the building and enters holding the door for you..  And you walk down the hall 

“What room is your art room?” he asks..

“Oh..” you struggle a bit and get your printed schedule out of your bag..

“A-1117?” 

“Mmh you're up the stairs then.. This way..” he leads you up the flight of stairs ..

And sure enough on a little stick out sign..

A-1115… A-1116.. A-1117.. On the far end..

“Oh… I see it.. Thank you jongho.. You don't need to walk me to the door.. Thank you for showing me the way.” you smile at him and bow.

He just smiles, but it's a small one “no problem..” and turns and makes his way back down the stairs..

You walk down the hall and then into the room..

It's a wide open space, tables and various art supplies neatly tucked away.. Some students already in there

“You must be y/n?.. I'm your lecturer but you can just call me jenny.. Pick a desk anywhere.. We’re not drawing today just doing some theory..”

“Aah okay.. Thank you..

… 

After your art lecture jenny had told you about some books you should pick up from the campus library a girl in your art class kindly showed you the way 

But shoot that is a bi stack of art books.. Only a few would fit in your backpack so you had to carry the rest.. You thank the librarian who got you the books and after checking them out you make your way to the doors of the library.

You struggle but eventually get the door open and slip out.. You walk down the hall carrying the stack of books, one of the top ones begin to slip and of course gravity pulls it to the ground.. 

“Oh..” 

You turn and shift the stack into one arm.. And bend down to pick the fallen book up.. Only another arm has extended to pick it up.. One tatted up with a sleeve..

“Here, let me get that for you” your gaze meets the face of the man

He helps you stand upright and let sout a cheeky laugh

“That's a lot of books is it not? Art student?”

“Yeah.. something like that..”

“D’you need a hand getting to where you're going or..” he trails still holding the book..

“I think i can manage..” just as you say that some more books begin to move in the pile as you try and move them back to the middle.. And onto the ground.. 

The man laughs.. 

“Sure you can, princess.. Come on. I'll help you carry them to your car..assuming.. You're getting picked up?” he says as he picks the fallen books up as well as taking a few more from your stack.

“Ah.. well thank you.. I appreciate it..”

And so you walk with the man through the campus and to the parking lot where others are getting picked up by their chauffeurs

You see the family driver standing outside the car..

“It's just that one there.. “

He walks towards the car and opens the door on the other side placing your books on the seat.. 

The driver opens your side

“Oh um.. Thank you for helping me..” you trail off not knowing the guys name

He opens his mouth to speak.

“Hongjoooong!! Come on!! We’re gonna be late..” a voice calls from a little bit away.. 

Wooyoung and another few boys stand.. 

He turns and gives them a thumbs up..

“Hongjoong.. My names hongjoong..”

“Well thank you hongjoong..”

“No problem princess” he does a little bow and runs off to catch up with his friends.. And you get in the car…

So that's hongjoong? He.. didn't seem as bad as wooyoung said..

[dailyadventureprompts]

Homebrew Mechanic: Meaningful Research

Being careful about when you deliver information to your party is one of the most difficult challenges a dungeonmaster may face, a balancing act that we constantly have to tweak as it affects the pacing of our campaigns.

That said, unlike a novel or movie or videogame where the writers can carefully mete out exposition at just the right time, we dungeonmasters have to deal with the fact that at any time (though usually not without prompting) our players are going to want answers about what's ACTUALLY going on, and they're going to take steps to find out.

To that end I'm going to offer up a few solutions to a problem I've seen pop up time and time again, where the heroes have gone to all the trouble to get themselves into a great repository of knowledge and end up rolling what seems like endless knowledge checks to find out what they probably already know. This has been largely inspired by my own experience but may have been influenced by watching what felt like several episodes worth of the critical role gang hitting the books and getting nothing in return.

I've got a whole write up on loredumps, and the best way to dripfeed information to the party, but this post is specifically for the point where a party has gained access to a supposed repository of lore and are then left twiddling their thumbs while the dm decides how much of the metaplot they're going to parcel out.

When the party gets to the library you need to ask yourself: Is the information there to be found?

No, I don't want them to know yet: Welcome them into the library and then save everyone some time by saying that after a few days of searching it’s become obvious the answers they seek aren’t here. Most vitally, you then either need to give them a new lead on where the information might be found, or present the development of another plot thread (new or old) so they can jump on something else without losing momentum.

No, I want them to have to work for it:  your players have suddenly given you a free “insert plothook here” opportunity. Send them in whichever direction you like, so long as they have to overcome great challenge to get there. This is technically just kicking the can down the road, but you can use that time to have important plot/character beats happen.

Yes, but I don’t want to give away the whole picture just yet:  The great thing about libraries is that they’re full of books, which are written by people,  who are famously bad at keeping their facts straight. Today we live in a world of objective or at least peer reviewed information but the facts in any texts your party are going to stumble across are going to be distorted by bias. This gives you the chance to give them the awnsers they want mixed in with a bunch of red herrings and misdirections. ( See the section below for ideas)

Yes, they just need to dig for it:  This is the option to pick if you're willing to give your party information upfront while at the same time making it SEEM like they're overcoming the odds . Consider having an encounter, or using my minigame system to represent their efforts at looking for needles in the lithographic haystack. Failure at this system results in one of the previous two options ( mixed information, or the need to go elsewhere), where as success gets them the info dump they so clearly crave.

The Art of obscuring knowledge AKA Plato’s allegory of the cave, but in reverse

One of the handiest tools in learning to deliver the right information at the right time is a sort of “slow release exposition” where you wrap a fragment lore the party vitally needs to know in a coating of irrelevant information,  which forces them to conjecture on possibilities and draw their own conclusions.  Once they have two or more pieces on the same subject they can begin to compare and contrast, forming an understanding that is merely the shadow of the truth but strong enough to operate off of. 

As someone who majored in history let me share some of my favourite ways I’ve had to dig for information, in the hopes that you’ll be able to use it to function your players.

A highly personal record in the relevant information is interpreted through a personal lens to the point where they can only see the information in question 

Important information cameos in the background of an unrelated historical account

The information can only be inferred from dry as hell accounts or census information. Cross reference with accounts of major historical events to get a better picture, but everything we need to know has been flattened into datapoints useful to the bureaucracy and needs to be re-extrapolated.

The original work was lost, and we only have this work alluding to it. Bonus points if the existent work is notably parodying the original, or is an attempt to discredit it.

Part of a larger chain of correspondence, referring to something the writers both experienced first hand and so had no reason to describe in detail. 

The storage medium (scroll, tablet, arcane data crystal) is damaged in some way, leading to only bits of information being known. 

Original witnesses Didn’t have the words to describe the thing or events in question and so used references from their own environment and culture. Alternatively, they had specific words but those have been bastardized by rough translations. 

Tremendously based towards a historical figure/ideology/religion to the point that all facts in the piece are questionable.  Bonus points if its part of a treatise on an observably untrue fact IE the flatness of earth