#which is the version that they fantasise about and write for

[lee-sanghyeok]

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[parfaitblogs]

never grow up ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you are at the age you never thought you'd live to. 

genre: hurt/comfort + fluff! tags: established relationship. (very brief) mentions of r not eating. depression. non sexual nudity. mention of a past suicide attempt. reader is codependent on spencer #anxiousattachment!! mini argument not really because he loves you a lot!!! please know your triggers ♡  word count: 2.2k a/n: this was a vent write. LOL! i think i switch tenses a lot in this? i tried to fix it. this is why we don't write fanfiction while we're crying!!! i love u i love u i love u and i am so so glad you are the age that you are!! continue to grow please!! life will become beautiful!!!

Depression is a funny thing.

Sometimes you are forgetting there has ever been a version of you out there that fantasised about death and longed for an escape from this world you deemed so cruel, so invasive. Other times, you are sat naked on the cold floor of your bathroom rocking back and forth, clawing at your skin and ripping hair out of your scalp because you are sobbing so ferociously. The world spinning around you and your cries, so violent, are making you lightheaded and you wonder if you pass out here if anyone will ever find you. 

Clearly, tonight, you are the latter.

It started as a small pit in your stomach that morning, that you braved through and ignored to the best of your ability, even as you said gentle 'no thank you's' to food offered by your co-workers and forced your brain to focus on work and not the never-ending abyss of dread in your abdomen. Then, it became a tear or two on your way home, that you vehemently wiped away and pretended was never there because it couldn't be. 

Then you were showering to get your mind off things — a stupid decision, really. For your brain was latching on to every awful emotion it had felt thus far today, and you were stepping out of the shower with an even heavier heart, and your hands were wrapping around your now goosebump riddled body, as you were sinking to the floor in a ball.

And maybe hours passed by you. Maybe days — it certainly felt that way. Maybe it was only a mere five minutes. But your loud sobs felt like they took an achingly long time to slow and quiet down, until they were falling into ugly sniffles of the snot on your face, and a raging headache behind your eyes. 

Loud sobs — scream sobs, really — had a lot of disadvantages. The aftermath feeling of embarrassment of screaming at your brain that refused to simply shut up, the scratch at your throat from every sound you ripped from it. The audio block it gave you from the rest of the world. For you truly were in your own universe when you were howling alone in the comfort of your bathroom walls.

So much so, that the familiar sound of a door opening and closing, and a bag being placed down by the side of it, went entirely unnoticed to you. Footsteps against your apartment's wooden flooring weren't picked up, nor were the first two knocks on your bathroom door. By the third, you were blubbering through saliva and snot, and you had heard it. Followed by a very gentle calling of your name, that had your heart clenching within your chest for a new reason. 

He had said he was coming home tomorrow. Which almost always meant he wouldn't be home for another three days, and so, in your mind, you thought bawling that night could be a secret kept between you and your tiles. 

Apparently not. 

He called your name again when you didn't reply, an added hint of desperation in his voice. Trembling, you stood, your limbs feeling as though they were creaking while you straightened them out. And you didn't bother about the towel sitting in a crumpled heap on the floor, nor the pile of your clean clothes sitting on the countertop. In fact, you didn't bother about anything as a shaking hand twisted the doorknob and pulled it open.

In an instant, his worried frown deepened, and eyes that might usually drink in the sight of your naked body beautifully, now didn't wander further than the scarlet scratch marks along your neck — blood vessels risen to the surface from how fragile that part of you was. He exhaled, and took a hesitating step towards you. One you welcomed by remaining planted in your spot — you didn't know if you could move, though. 

"Can I ask what's wrong, or do you simply want a hug?" 

Both, you wanted to say. Both, but also neither. 

You didn’t say that. Instead, you said, "Hug."

He hardly took a second to register what you'd said before his arms were wrapping around you. If he found the slightly damp state of your skin annoying, he didn't comment on it. He didn't say much at all, as he enveloped you into his body, a hand securing itself on the back of your head, and his chin resting atop your head. 

Water dripped uncomfortably to the floor, splattering on the tiles and his shoes, being the only sound aside from your irregular hiccups and sniffles. His button-up was wet from your tears and your body, and you could almost hear his complaints about it, if this were any other day. 

Minutes passed, and even though you didn't want to, you pulled back, feeling his hands slip around to your waist and hold you benevolently. Your own hands reached up to your face to wipe away tears, an embarrassed laugh escaping your lips. 

"This is pathetic," you said, fingers digging into the corners of your stinging eyes. 

"How?" he asked you.

"I didn't think you'd be home to see me having a mental breakdown."

A smile that didn't quite reach his eyes appeared on his lips. "Well, I am." Fingers squeezed your waist reassuringly. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

You shrugged, wordlessly, your eyes dropping from his face to the damp spot on his chest from where your face had once been, heart stuttering. 

"We don't have to, honey," he said. "But it might help."

"I know it might," you muttered. 

He was silent, as were you. A few more beats passed between you two, before you were turning around to pick up clothes you had left for yourself on the counter. You didn't really feel any different under his watchful gaze as you dressed yourself. Accustomed to the act, or simply too overwhelmed with another emotion, you didn't know. 

He followed you into the living room when you walked out there, and he sat down next to you on the couch you curled up on. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, and he lifted his head on each intake of breath you had, as if about to say something. But you never did. 

So, he took over.

"Did something happen today?" You shook your head, and he nodded his own. "Okay. This past week?" You shook your head again, because other than missing him while he had been stuck in Texas for a case, nothing had actually happened. 

You wished it had. Truly, you wished you had experienced a murder on your way to work, or a distant family member had passed away so you could blame this feeling on something other than memories simply resurfacing. 

You sniffled again. "You know," you began, voice thick and wobbly from the lump lodged in your throat. "When I was fourteen, I didn't think I'd ever be this old."

Your gaze lifted from your lap to look at him, and you let a helpless tear fall from one of your eyes when you locked eyes with him. He was confused, unsurprisingly so.

So, you continued. "I tried to kill myself. When I was fourteen."

He readjusted his posture, eyebrows falling into a more concerned state, and he was silent for so long you wondered if this was when he decided you were too much and too complicated for him to deal with. 

He didn't. "I didn't know," he said, instead. 

"I don't exactly advertise it," you replied, and even if it was an attempt at being light hearted, it fell flat. "I just realised I never thought I'd be this age," you continued when he hardly reacted, "and I've been really anxious and down all week, so I think that realisation kind of sent me over the edge."

"Are you happy you're at this age?" 

Hesitantly, but surely, you nodded your head. "I got to meet you."

His lips twitched, but a smile never crossed his face. "You should be happy for reasons more than just me."

"You are my reason for being happy," you argued. 

"And I'm glad to hear I make you happy, but I cannot be your only reason."

"Why not?"

"Because that's dependency." 

You short-circuited, and he sighed upon realising the way you were taking his words — maybe not the smartest thing he could've said to his still tear-stricken-faced girlfriend. 

"What I mean is you should have other areas in your life that make you happy. Not just me."

"I like my job," you mumbled, gaze relocating to your lap. "And my friends."

"Great," he said, and you could feel his weight shifting on the couch as he nudged closer to you. "As long as I'm not your reason for living."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "You've been my reason for living since we started dating. Why is it different now?"

"I didn't know I was your reason for living until now."

"So if you are, then what? You leave me?" 

"No," his response was so immediate you were sure you could feel the whiplash, and he ran a hand down his face with an exasperated sigh. "I don't want to fight with you when you're like this."

"I don't want to fight with you either," you agreed, fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. "I'm sorry I'm co-dependent."

He didn't respond for a while, mulling everything you two had shared and now, your apology, over in his head. You sat, anxiously, as minutes ticked by until he was puffing his cheeks to let out air, and standing up from the couch. 

He turned to you. "I love you, you know that," he began, and even before he had a chance to finish, you were already drowning him out, world crumbling around you as tears welled back up in your eyes. Maybe if you weren't as emotional as you were that night, your vision wouldn't have already gone blurry, and your heart wouldn't be shattering in your chest already. 

"But?" you countered, a sob escaping you at the end of the word.

He froze at the sound of it, his eyebrows turning in to each other, "Sorry?"

"You love me, but?"

"I don't understand."

"I'm sitting here, sobbing really violently and I look hideous, and you've just discovered I'm co-dependent, and you don't like that about me, so now you're telling me that you love me, but this isn't going to work out, and I need to work on myself before I get into another relationship, and you hope I can find happiness, and—"

"—What are you talking about?" he cut your ranting off, blinking a few times, confused. 

"Is that not what's happening?" 

"No?"

"Oh."

You stared at him, and he stared at you, and you felt your heart slowly pick itself back up from the pits of your stomach, each piece mending itself back together. He wasn't breaking up with you.

"I wasn't going to say that at all. Please don't put words in my mouth."

"Sorry," you said, though it wasn't very sincere. He crouched down in front of you, hands finding your fidgeting ones to hold them.

"Can I finish what I'm going to say before you cut me off this time?" Wordlessly, you nodded your head, and so he continued. "I love you, and you know that, and I don't want you to think I'm upset or mad at you for being codependent. You're allowed to not know how to navigate a relationship. But—"

"—There it is—" he glared with no real heat at you, and your lips twitched "—Sorry."

"But I need you to communicate with me. I'm going to inevitably do things that upset you, because you're co-dependent. We need to figure those things out, because a lot of the time you will respond unhealthily, and knowing what I know now, I don't want to be a trigger in any way."

"You won't be a trigger," you mumbled, and he shot you a pointed look, and your shoulders deflated. "I just feel stupid communicating things like that. Like,��oh, I'm sad because my boyfriend is out of state for work and he's super busy and not responding to my messages so I think he might hate me."

"That isn't stupid."

"Yes it is!"

He said your name, eyebrows risen, and he shook his head. "You're upset about something. That isn't a stupid thing at all."

"It feels stupid."

"Okay, well, how about the next time I'm away on a case and not replying and you miss me, which is what that crazy, sad, completely reasonable phenomenon is called, by the way, you communicate that with me, and you see how I respond?"

"What if you tell me to go fuck myself?" 

He didn't even need to verbally deny your words for you to know that that response was completely out of character for him. All it took was one simple look, and you were diffidently smiling and averting your gaze, mumbling a quiet, "Okay."

And yes, the next time he was out of the state and you missed him, as he so kindly put it, you told him. And he spent three hours on the phone that night with you, reassuringly expressing how much he loved you, and how little he hated you.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[joostsblog]

joost klein x fem!reader who has a thing for his hands? loving when his hands wander all around her body.. fingering her during a pre-party then dragging her to hus room to finish the poor girl off both of them competing in eurovision

maybe joost even whispering things in her ear.. lots of neck kisses and reader wakes up in the morning neck, thighs, collarbones basically her whole body having hickeys ☺️

tysm if u do this

here you go :)

the one about his hands and also waking up covered in hickeys ~ joost klein smut

My masterlist here ✨💌

Pairing: Joost Klein x fem!eurovision contestant!reader

Description: Only fantasising about Joost's hands just isn't enough. You need to get the fellow eurovision contestant to actually touch you where you need to be touched.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: in this version of eurovision no drama is happening, no dq etc, everything is just nice ❣️ i'm leaving for vacation tomorrow (to the netherlands actually lmao) so i probably won't be able to write anything for two week, i'm sorry babes :( filling up my inbox with requests, thoughts, feedback etc is still encouraged tho 💌

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, SMUT, nsfw, fingering (f receiving), protected sex, piv, swearing, consumption of cigarettes, not proofread

His hands were the first thing you noticed about the man. The way he held out his hand in front of you, greeting you with a handshake (which you thought was a bit odd). His hand felt firm yet gentle in yours and you couldn't help but admire the digits tattooed on his fingers.

"Nice to meet you," he had smiled at you and your heart had fluttered just a bit.

Your quick infatuation with Joost and his hands really was poorly timed. You were at eurovision to represent your country and you were supposed to be on your best behaviour. Absolutely no distractions allowed. Too bad thoughts of the blonde dutch man doing ungodly things to you kept intruding into your mind.

So you really shouldn't be spending as much time with him as you did. Always finding an excuse to talk to him in between rehearsals or at breakfast (your favourite because it meant you saw Joost's messy hair in the morning and maybe sometimes you imagined your hands were the ones responsible for that). Your vocal coach would be furious with you if she found out that you had been starting to sneak off with Joost whenever he went for a smoke. Just talking and laughing with him as you watched him smoke. Always paying close attention to those hands when he lifted one of them to his mouth to take a drag in between sentences.

"I think I might be a bad influence on you," he said. "You need to take care of your pretty voice," he mused with a smirk and you swear you caught him eyeing you up and down.

"Don't worry about me, I'm already corrupted," you joked.

"Really, how so?" Joost asked with a grin.

You watched as Joost took another drag, his cigarette delicately placed between his fingers. Oh, what those hands could be capable of doing to you. You couldn't help but let your thoughts wander off again. You wondered how his hands would feel on your hips if you were sat on his lap, his hands guiding you to grind against him. How his hands would feel in your hair, pulling on it while his mouth would kiss along your neck. How his hands would on your throat while he would thrust into you. How his fingers would feel slowly pumping inside of you, hitting all the right spots.

Joost raised an eyebrow when he noticed your absent state.

"You will have to find out," you said smirking.

"Mysterious, I like it," Joost said and finished off his cigarette. "After you," he said after he opened the door. You walked past Joost and your hands lightly brushed against Joost's. Shivers on down your spine.

You decided that maybe the only solution to your problem was to actually get into Joost's pants. Because then all your thoughts and fantasies about the man wouldn't have to plague your mind anymore when they would become reality. So you decided you would do anything in your power to achieve your goal.

~

You were sitting across Joost in a waiting area. He was handsomely dressed in that black jacket with the dark europe tie and his glasses with the thick brims. His fingers were nervously playing with the cord of his headphones. He looked ravishing. You crossed your legs which caused your thighs to be on full display with the short skirt you were wearing. You hoped Joost would notice and maybe also think about how his hands would feel so good on your thighs (and other places also).

"Excited for tonight?" you asked Joost.

"Huh?" he asked confused.

"The semifinals preparty," you reminded him.

"Oh, yeah," he nodded as he remembered. "Are you gonna be there?" he asked.

"Only if you're there," you said and Joost smiled.

"Then I'll be there, anything for you," he said.

"Anything?" you asked cheekily. Joost narrowed his eyes at you and gave you a grin.

"You will have to find out."

~

Joost's eyes immediately landed on you as you saw him enter the party. You were swaying your hips to the beat, hands up in the air as you enjoyed yourself on the dancefloor. You grinned at Joost and he didn't need to be told twice as he made his way over to you. You wrapped your arms around Joost's neck to hug him hello, still swaying to the music. Instead of hugging you, Joost put his hands on your hips and smiled at you as he probably assumed you wanted to dance with him. You didn't complain. The thin fabric of your skirt didn't serve much as a barrier between your skin and Joost's grip and still you wished the skirt was gone. Your fingertips cautiously dipped into the hair at the nape of Joost's neck and Joost responded by pulling you closer to him. It still wasn't close enough. Joost leaned down to whisper into your ear.

"You look very nice," his breath ghosted over the skin on your neck and your breath hitched.

"You do too," you said and it was almost sweet. You needed to get him out of here as fast as possible. "You wanna go for a smoke?" you proposed.

"I don't have any cigs left," Joost said.

"I think I saw a cigarette vending machine in the lady's restroom," you said and took Joost's hand in yours to lead him through the crowd. As you reached the door to the restroom you could feel Joost hesitating. "Don't worry, there's no one inside," you said and scurried through the door frame. The door closed behind Joost and the music was reduced to some sounds in the distance. Beside the vanity was the vending machine you had spoken of.

"This is a condom vending machine," Joost stated.

"Oh," you giggled. You took out a euro from your purse and proceeded to buy one condom. "Well," you said as you took the condom from the slot. "There's always other vices you could indulge in instead," you smirked at him.

"What are you proposing?" Joost asked, his hand leaning against the wall beside you.

"What does it sound like I'm proposing?" you looked up at him, condom in hand.

Joost took the condom from your fingers and put it in his pocket before he leaned down and his lips crashed into yours. His right hand held the back of your head, the other grabbed you by your hips. Your lips hungrily moved in sync with each other before they opened and your tongues met. Your arms wrapped around Joost to pull his body closer to yours. You wanted him to feel your breasts pressed against his chest. You sighed into the kiss as you could tell that this kiss alone wouldn't satiate either of you. You blindly reached for the door of one of the stalls and pushed it open before you both stumbled into it.

You broke off the kiss briefly to lock the door of the stall, Joost's mouth eagerly kissing along your neck instead. His hands were resting on your waist, slowly pushing up the fabric of your top to reveal your stomach. You were pressed against the wall of the bathroom stall, not an inch left between you. Joost's lips found yours again. You opened your legs slightly so Joost's leg could slip in between yours. His right hand trailed down your hip until it rested on your upper thigh. You couldn't stop yourself from grinding your hip against Joost's thigh as vivid images of him fucking into you flickered through your mind. You moaned against Joost's lips as you desperately needed to make your wants known.

"I- I- I need," you tried to get out in between kisses. "I need you."

"You got me," Joost murmured against your skin as he kissed down your neck again. "Don't worry, m’en meisje."

His hand ghosted up your thigh and pushed up the hem of your skirt. Your arousal was hot with anticipation. As his hand reached your panties his fingers softly grazed over the fabric right where your clit was. Your hips bucked lightly and Joost grinned against the skin of your neck.

"So eager," Joost tutted.

His fingers carefully pushed your panties to the side until his fingers could dip into your folds. Your head fell back and you bit into your lip to stifle any moans you otherwise would have let out if you two were in private.

Your folds were slick with arousal eliminating any friction as Joost's fingers started circling your clit.

"You're so wet for me," Joost whispered against your ear. Your hands were desperately grabbing onto his shoulders, keeping yourself upright as your knees buckled. Joost's other hand was resting by your side, keeping you close to him. "So ready for me," he said, voice as soft as ever.

Joost stopped circling your clit and you almost let out a groan in frustration. His fingers inched closer to your entrance until they slipped inside of you. Your mouth slacked open, eyes tightly squeezed shut and Joost's hand caressing your side. Your nails dug into Joost's skin as his fingers slowly pumped in and out of you.

"You feel so good," Joost murmured against your ear. "I bet you would feel so good around my cock." You let out a loud moan as his words triggered your vivid fantasy. "Would you like that?" Joost grinned against your skin. "Me fucking you properly?"

"God, Joost," you could only whimper.

"God, you're barely holding it together," Joost whispered. "You're so good for me," he said as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you.

Suddenly you could hear the restroom door fling open and the voices of two women enter. Joost swiftly pressed his hand on top of your mouth but still continued moving his fingers inside of you. Your mind didn't even register what the voices outside the bathroom stall were talking about as all your mind was occupied with was Joost. Your body was trembling and you did everything in your power to keep yourself from orgasming right then and there as you knew that you would not be able to keep quiet through it. Joost pressed gentle kisses to the skin on your neck as your heavy breathing only intensified.

A few moments later the door closed and you were alone again. Just as you were about to allow yourself to climax Joost withdrew his fingers from you, leaving you trembling uncontrollably.

"Pleaseplease, Joost please," you could only press out. Joost's hand caressed your side and his lips trailed along your neck.

"Sshhh, mijn lieverd," Joost shushed, slowly brushing your hair behind your ear. "I need you to be a little bit more patient," he looked at you fondly. "I'm gonna take you back to my room and we're gonna do this properly." You let out a frustrated groan. You could feel your slick arousal almost dripping down your legs. Joost smoothed down your skirt and top (and his own pants that hid his raging boner) and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. "Come on," Joost said with a grin, his hand held out for you to take as you still stood there dumbfounded.

Reluctantly you took Joost's hand and let yourself be led outside the restroom. You didn't take too many steps before you noticed Mona, one of the stylists on your delegation come up to you.

"(Y/N)!" she hugged you. "How are you?" Mona asked and you just stared at her blankly for a few seconds.

"Yeah, I'm good," you managed to sound out. Mona raised her eyebrows amused.

"Are you drunk? I thought they didn't serve alcohol here," she laughed. Joost looked at you with a knowing smirk.

"Aaaww, she's just a little exhausted," Joost saved you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders playfully. "I was just gonna walk her to her room."

"Oh yeah, she probably just needs some rest," Mona agreed. "We need her on her best game tomorrow," she joked and squeezed your shoulder lightly. "See you tomorrow!"

"See you," you smiled weakly as Mona walked away. Joost giggled beside you. "Shut up," you said and rammed your elbow into his ribs.

"Alright, let's get out of here."

Joost could barely close the hotel room door behind him before your lips were attacking each other again. Hands quickly roaming each other's bodies, grabbing onto any piece of clothing you could get a hold of to get rid of it. Joost's t-shirt was the first to go, swiftly followed by your top and bra. Your fingers fiddled with Joost's belt as the back of your knees hit the bed and you fell on it. You lay on top of it, only your short skirt covering you. Joost grinned down at you, observing your body spread out in front of him as he unbuckled his belt and took off his pants before he joined you on the bed.

You anticipated his lips to press onto yours again but instead, they found your neck again. His hands held onto your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried them in his hair, softly massaging his scalp. As Joost situationed himself in between your legs you could feel his hard-on press against your vulva through the fabric of your clothes. You let out a moan and Joost hummed approvingly against your skin as you could finally voice your lust for him.

Joost's mouth slowly moved down to your collarbones, alternating between peppering your skin with kisses and sucking at it. His fingers found the hem of your skirt and as he kissed along down your body he pulled the skirt down as well until you were only left in your panties. Your chest was heaving with how heavy your breathing was, anticipating Joost's next move. You let out a groan as his lips connected with the skin of your inner thighs.

"Stop being such a tease," you groaned and Joost grinned against your skin. Joost's fingers hooked in your panties before he finally pulled them down.

"What is it that you want, mijn lieverd?" Joost asked innocently.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you moaned frustrated. "I want you to fuck me finally."

"With pleasure."

Joost got up from the bed and you watched as he got rid of his underwear and you admired his length.

"Hurry," you nagged and Joost rolled his eyes with a soft laugh before he put on the condom you had bought earlier and got back in bed.

"So needy," he tutted, his lips just softly grazing yours. You held onto Joost's shoulders, his hand holding the side of your face before he slowly pushed into you. Your eyes momentarily blacked out as the pleasure spread throughout your body. Joost grunted against your skin also being lost to the pleasure. "So good for me," he praised and you wondered how much longer you would be able to keep it together.

He started slowly moving in and out of you. The slow rhythm, your hands in his hair and his lips pressed to your neck made all of this almost romantic. You wrapped your legs around Joost's hips to help him penetrate into you even deeper. With your hands in his hair, you grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head from where he was still kissing your neck until his lips found yours again. You moaned into the messy open-mouthed kiss before you softly pulled his hair again to make him look at you.

"Harder," you begged and Joost grinned at you.

Joost snaked his arm around your body to keep you in place, your bodies almost pressed against each other before he started pounding into you. Your nails dug into the skin on Joost's back as the moans tumbled out of your mouth uncontrollably. With each thrust, you were edging closer to your orgasm as Joost hit all the right spots inside of you. The sounds Joost was letting out of his mouth were heavenly, his grip on you dominant yet caring.

"You feel so good," Joost grunted and the sound of his voice pushed you over the edge.

Your back arched off the bed, your breath hitched and your muscles clenched until the wave of pleasure crashed down over you and you came with a series of obscene moans. As you were still riding out your high you noticed Joost's thrust becoming slopier and his moans louder until he came with stuttering hips and plopped down beside you.

You looked at each other breathing heavily and both let out a soft laugh. Joost lifted his arm to invite you to cuddle up to him. You rested your head on Joost's shoulder, your fingers softly drawing along the lines of Joost's tattoo on the side of his stomach.

"Was this okay?" Joost asked. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," you smiled. "This was perfect."

~

The ringing of your alarm on your phone woke you two up in the morning. Your limbs were entangled with Joost's, his heartbeat steady where your hand was laid on his chest. Joost rubbed his eyes, his hair messy and you never saw him look any cuter.

"What's this?" he complained before you got out of bed to turn off your alarm. As you turned around to face Joost again you noticed his eyes widen in shock. You stopped.

"What's up?" you asked blushing as Joost stared at your naked body. Confused you looked down your body and let out a gasp. "Fuck fuck fuck," you whispered, your hand in front of your lips. "This is bad." You sat down on the edge of the bed and you could feel Joost shift behind you to get closer to you. You looked down at your thighs which were littered in pink and purple hickeys. You desperately rubbed your fingers over them as if doing that could help you get rid of them.

"Oh, liefde," Joost said, his hand cautiously resting on your waist. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," you laughed unconvincingly, trying to calm yourself down. Joost's fingers softly grazed your collarbones and you looked down only to discover even more hickeys. "Oh god," you groaned.

"On your neck as well," Joost said meekly.

You put your face into your hands and cursed yourself for having chosen a very revealing stage outfit. "It's fine," you actually laughed this time.

"Are you sure?" Joost looked at you like a puppy who had just been caught breaking an expensive vase.

"Yes," you said and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Nothing some good foundation and an impromptu costume change can fix," you said although you already dreaded what you would have to tell your delegation about those hickeys. You leaned forward to gently kiss Joost's lips. "It was worth it," you said after pulling back and Joost gave you the proudest sweetest smile you had ever seen. Definitely worth it.

[honeyhotteoks]

Okay I'm 5'7 too so thank you for your detailed description of the members and I'm not surprised but kinda am at the same time about their appearance??

Low-key love seeing all the live content but also feel left out as an Aussie atiny BUT I'm seeing skz in October so I'm excited for that!!

Speaking of their appearance, the members of skz are a lot more muscular in person than how they look.

I was expecting them to be skinny and boney but they all look incredibly strong and fit-even Han and Felix-

Han actually looks slightly more buff and muscly then Felix which surprised me and Lee Know is just as defined and muscular as Changbin which no one talks about.

Anyway- yunho brain rot.

I was listening to the audiobook of haunting Adeline because I finally caved in from the TikTok influence and my friend telling me how sexy the novel is.

Idk if it's because I'm going to therapy or I'm too old but I thought it was over-hyped-

I did love how the author described the themes of fear and stalking because when I did get tense when she'd leave the room, come back and there would be a 🌹 on the counter.

BUT I did get delulu and I was reading some scenes where zade is just consumed with Adeline and I was gasping 'like omg yunho could be like this' because his natal chart indicates if he was psychotic and unhealed enough- could delve into stalking territory.

And yes okay- this shit is toxic and scary and awful in real life BUT LET ME FANTASISE FOR A SECOND!

What if yunho was that borderline toxic boyfriend that just CANT leave you alone??

Watches you from afar, sends you messages all day-

Somnophilia thought here-

You don't live with yunho but have given him a key and go to bed with no panties on b/c it's a common occurrence he'll drive over in the middle of the night b/c it's been too long since he's felt you under him and he has to ravish you.

You wake up to his tongue on you clit as he moans and breathes your scent in which eventually leads to you making love with him as he virtually suffocates you with his body and words?

You're mine, you're not leaving me, I'm destined to be with you, on top of you, inside you, I can't breathe w/o you.

EMOTIONAL DAMAGE!!

MY FRIEND THE WAY YOU ALWAYS SERVE UP THE GREATEST IMAGERY OF ALL TIME TO RUIN ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

first of all........ love that you're seeing skz!!! i'm hoping if and when they announce tour dates for north america next year there's a chance for me to see them

as far as your yunho brainrot goes................. IM DIZZY. i love your natal chart content, and i've been so obsessed with the idea of yunho being like perfect boyfriend great guy................but................there's that part of him that just can't help being possessive and having this sense of ownership over his partner.

i was just actually reading a fic for another fandom along the lines of what you're describing and i was like YUNHO YUNHO YUNHO the whole time. i might write my own version but......... brainrot under the cut

so i think there's two yunho possibilities that i love within this like possessive/stalker/dubcon realm, and one is straight up like suuuuuper healthy relationship but they play with CNC in intense ways and do full on like roleplay OR my current favorite brainrot which aligns with your idea and the fic i was just reading which is like...... desperately obsessed desperately in love fully fixated on reader not leaving him because he just has to consume her fully at all times.

he and reader have been dating for a while and he's honestly the 10/10 perfect boyfriend (she thinks) only.... she knows he gets a little funny about certain things. when other guys talk to her he just has to have his hands on her, and when he worries about her he really worries, almost too much. he gets jealous about the funniest little things, and he's always nervous about change, he just doesn't want anything to burst their little bubble so much so that he's controlling the situation a little too much. but.... she also loves him, and he hasn't really stepped over the line of toxic.......... until she catches him stealing a pair of her panties and realizes his phone is full of pictures of her.

and it starts off like an argument, until he starts to confess his real fantasies. and he knows it might be too much, but she makes him so insane it's like he can't help himself. and the longer he talks about all of those fantasies, confessing how fucked he knows it is and how she really could do better, she just keeps getting more and more turned on. and it's shocking to her too, but she really fucking likes it. she's never had someone take care of her, really and truly take care of everything and just let her exist without having to make all the decisions or take control, and he's just offering it all to her on a platter she just has to let him take it.

and so while he thinks revealing his desires is about to break them up, and he's losing his fucking mind about it, she's ready to double down hard on the relationship and on what they do behind closed doors. so she shocks him when she not only agrees for more but asks for more.

and so that's when she gives him the key, that's when she tells him that he's allowed to come in whenever he wants. to touch her whenever he wants. she wants it all, but all she asks in exchange is that he stops hiding his desires from her, because that's what was driving the wedge between them. he's patient about using the new found control though, because he doesn't know what that will do for their relationship and she doesn't necessarily know what she's allowing him to do..... he can't smother her ALL at once.

but that changes when she falls asleep one night before texting him goodnight, she's been stressed and worn thin and he's not had the opportunity to see her let alone take care of her..... and he's feeling a little neglected too. and he waits a couple of hours for a response, but finally he decides it's time to use the key. so he drives over, slips in quietly, and finds her sound asleep, phone still clutched in her fingers and a video looping on repeat.

he's hard in a second, desperate in a second, and he has to do something about it. so he starts off slow, peeing off her clothes and gently teasing her nipples, getting a blush in her cheeks and making her perfectly hot and receptive to his tongue teasing her sweet clit.

she’s been so tired lately that she’s well and truly out, and she doesn’t really wake up until he’s teasing her wet cunt with his cock, not quite fucking her yet but everything in between. and when she wakes it’s mid-orgasm and desperate for more, and she's aware that something feels different but she just woke up and she's caught between realizing yunho is actually here and pushing himself inside her and thinking it might be a dream.

but he's whispering to her, clutching her close and begging her to just let him have this.... and of course she will, she agreed, but as she comes more and more into consciousness the feeling of him and his words start to make sense. he’s not wearing a condom for the first time ever, and that's not something they've ever agreed on going without before. she's just trying to figure out what is going on but he's fucking into her harder and deeper than before, with a whimpering need on his lips that makes her body curl up in pleasure and she knows she should stop him but truthfully she doesn't want to.

and while she clings to him, yunho's delirious. the feeling of having her completely, of knowing he's the only person who's ever been inside her fully with nothing between them, of knowing that the risk might be worth it. his mind starts to spin until he's a babbling mess, telling her he's going to leave a piece of himself behind for her, make them whole, make sure she can never ever leave.

and even though she knows it's a terrible idea, a decision only made in the middle of sex because it feels good, she finds herself clutching him closer, goading him on. no one has ever wanted her quite like he does and it makes her want to throw everything she's ever cared about right out the window if it means he'll look at her like this forever.

ANYWAYS now i have to write full lowkey toxic possessive yunho with a reader who is down to be fully consumed by him like AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[pockybeagle]

I've got this in my head, and I just want to get it out because if I keep going over it, it'll turn into a fic, and I don't want it to. It's just a phone dialogue, based more or less in the present time, where Alex calls Miles to ask him something:

‘Do you know Ao3?’

‘Conversations start with a hello, Alex,’ Miles replies, with an amused snort. ‘But- yeah, it's kind of like fanfiction and wattpad, isn't it?’

‘What the fuck is wattpad?’ was Alex's reply, which made Miles click his tongue.

"It's like fanfiction and ao3- it's- fuck- it's like- remember that time we found a story where a fan had written that you and her met and fucked? Well, they're all used for the same thing. I mean, not to write things about you fucking fans, but people use them to write their own versions of stories they like, or series, or actors or-"

‘They wrote that we fuck!’ exclaimed Alex, shocked, and all he got in response was a consensual silence, almost as if Miles had stopped breathing. ‘Did you know about this?’

‘Um, yeah, something-something I knew,’ Miles replied, slightly uncomfortable.

‘And why didn't you ever mention it?’ practically shrieked Alex into the phone's microphone, making Miles' eardrums ache. "There's a lot of people who are convinced that we fucked and-!

"Well, Alex, I think we encouraged that rumour quite a bit, don't you? Do a little mea culpa,’ Miles said, with a snort. Alex, again, shrieked.

'It was a fucking publicity stunt, Miles, and yes, the idea was to create that buzz but - but not this, Miles. There are hundreds of stories where- have you read any of this?’ he asked suddenly, in a slightly accusatory tone. Miles felt his cheeks burn.

‘Some things, just out of curiosity,’ he replied, and went ahead to clarify before Alex shrieked again. "I wanted to know if people wrote things about me, yeah? But no, there's a lot of fics about you fucking fans but of me- there's only fics of me fucking with you,’ he said, with a snort that was a mixture of indignation and amusement. ‘I should be the more annoyed of the two of us, at least some of my fans should be fantasizing about fucking me,’ he protested, though he let out a laugh at the same time. Alex must not have found any of it funny.

‘Your fucking fans fantasise about you busting my ass!’ he protested, scandalised, and his almost sanctimonious tone (Miles knew Alex wasn't exactly a prude), made him let out a laugh. ‘Don't laugh you fucking pervert! Why the fuck are them writing this? And why are you always the one who-?’

‘Not always,’ Miles interrupted him, with a playful tone that was meant to relax him, but he must have guessed that Alex was in no mood for laughter.

‘You seem to know too much about this!’ he accused him again.

‘I did my research,’ he replied, guilelessly, even if his cheeks still burned slightly. Alex, on the other end of the line, stood for a long moment in silence.

The silence became too long, so long that Miles began to feel slightly worried.

‘Are you really as good at fucking as they imply in these stories?’ asked Alex finally, always acting completely unexpected, even to Miles who had known him for so many years.

‘I'm indognated by that question, Alex,’ he replied, falsely indignant. ‘Obviously, those stories don't do me justice,’ he had expected a witty or mocking comment in response, instead, all he heard was Alex passing his saliva heavily, he could almost visualise in his eyes his Adam's apple lowering. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Curiosity,’ Alex said, in an all-too-innocent thread of a voice. Alex only sounded innocent when he was guilty.

‘Would you like to-know if it's true?’ asked Miles, taking a too-risky leap he'd been avoiding taking for many, many years but-why the fuck had Alex called him? That fucker never did anything if he didn't have a plan behind it.

‘I know, you just told me,’ was the terse reply. ‘I just wanted to know if you were aware of this, and I see that you are and I'm outraged that you're not outraged,’ he added, resuming his annoyance. Miles clicked his tongue.

‘Oh, Alex, it's almost a compliment,’ Alex's response was a snort that surely summed up several insults. ‘In any case, the proposal still stands,’ Miles repeated, not knowing where the courage to insist came from. Maybe it was the beer he was drinking.

'Proposal?'

‘Yes, if you ever want to know if those stories are similar to reality or not - I could show you,’ Miles replied, also using the tactic of sounding too innocent and casual.

‘Those stories have filled your head with absurd ideas,’ Alex said, snorting. ‘It wouldn't be like that,’ he added, pointing out the absurdity. "They're fantasies, reality is always different. It's like porn and-"

‘It would be fucking better,’ again, silence. ‘I'm sure it would,’ he added, incredulous at his own audacity.

‘You're cocky,’ Alex said with a nervous chuckle, Miles clicked his tongue.

‘Confidence isn't being cocky,’ he replied. ‘We could-’

‘I gotta go, Miles, I'm busy,’ Miles must have expected that, maybe that's why Alex's escape wasn't a surprise.

‘Yeah, sure - keep enjoying your - reading,’ he said, and it was he who hung up the phone, not waiting for an answer.

Alex was going to call back, Miles had known him for twenty years, and he didn't know how he'd gotten into his best friend's head - but once Alex had something on his mind he was unable to get it out of his head until he got it.

And at that moment, that something was Miles. It was a sudden surprise but - fuck, that was his lucky day, wasn't it?

At midnight, Miles was sitting on the couch at home, drinking a beer and watching an unwatched TV show. It was just as the clock struck 00 that his phone rang and he smiled, knowing he had just won a fight he never fought.

‘Hi Alex,’ and just like that, that's how it all started.

[lonelyroommp3]

u dont have to answer this but i was wondering if u could elaborate on ur opinions about rpf -- bc i kind of agree with you that it's like, it's fine and it's not morally wrong or anything but it def is a little weird? idk ive never been able to rly explain my feelings about it so im curious what u think

honestly my main view on rpf (whether of the y/n self insert variety or the gay shipping variety) is it's literally fine as long as you're not putting it anywhere the people involved are going to see it. like when you boil rpf down to its bare essentials it is just fantasising about a famous person (or multiple famous people, in varying combinations), which is something human beings have been doing in their brains since people first started becoming famous. and i think expressing those fantasies through creative outlets like fic, art, 2013 polyvore outfit boards about going on a yacht trip with harry styles, etc is an entirely natural progression of that impulse

and in that way i sort of view it as similar to any other fantasy you might have about another human being: it is totally normal and essentially morally neutral, i hope you'd agree, to daydream about a person you fancy, whether those daydreams are PG-13 or heinously X-rated, whether they're a friend or acquaintance or stranger or celebrity. where it would become weird is if you went up to said person completely uninvited and said "hey, would you like to hear in elaborate detail about the things i thought about you doing to me while i was masturbating last night?" - and so i think the same applies to rpf. like obviously don't send your rpf to the person in question, don't show up with BLINK TWICE IF THE BABY IS FAKE signs to a louis tomlinson concert, archive lock your rpf on ao3, don't proudly post about it on websites that the people in question are active on especially in this age of algorithm-based social media where unless you lock your account you have no real surefire way of ensuring they'll never see it, etc etc. every time i see people talk shipping in the comments of an official f1 post a part of my soul dies

i think another big thing about rpf to me is that all celebrities are essentially playing a fictionalised version of themselves. no matter how authentic they seem to their fanbase, when you combine things like media training + PR/marketing obligations + building a Persona + the pressure of competing in a sport (for athletes) + the level of code switching inherent to being in what is essentially a public facing job, we as fans & observers are not seeing the real harry styles or taylor swift or charles leclerc or whoever else. we are seeing the version of that person that they want us to see (or, in the case of historical rpf, you're writing about a ghost reconstructed from fragments distorted through the lens of missing evidence, potentially biased historians, potentially even more biased first and third party accounts, etc), and so i don't really view rpf as inherently invasive because you're not really writing about the real person, moreso the constructed image of Celebrity Of Choice.

of course, that is not to say that rpf can never become invasive: the clearest example would be ship truthers harassing the people involved due to what they perceive as "evidence" of some great forbidden love story, but i'll be real there is a lot of F1 rpf specifically that i side eye from a distance because of how it will use drivers' intensely personal real life trauma as a plot point, which is a line i'm not really comfortable crossing with real living people, especially not when it comes to dangerous sports lmao. but i think that is an issue with some rpf enjoyers' boundaries and not an inescapable root problem with the very idea of rpf imo

[ryuichirou]

Replies

TWST related: about Idia’s designer choices, Azul’s Jamil-related fantasies and other stuff.

Anonymous asked:

Are you going to draw more genderswap twst soon? My bisexual heart enjoys the men but craves the females. I'll even take writing.

Anon!! Thank you so much for enjoying the ladies~ 🥹 They’re very special to me as well.

I actually draw them quite often these days, this is why we post them a lot on our Ko-Fi and 🔑🔞twt… Maybe I’ll finish up something and we’ll post it. Eventually. At some point. Knowing that you’re waiting for them. 💪

As for the writing, we have at least one ask prompting hcs about them, so maaaybe I’ll write some pretty soon.

Anonymous asked:

thank you for being one of the sole people feeding the shroudcest nation. i will lay my life down for you

We’re happy to do our part, Anon 🫡 The only nation I am willing to serve.

In all honesty, I am very glad you like our interpretation of these two and their relationship <3

Anonymous asked:

I just want to say as a robotfucker Ortho’s appearance with his bondage gear inspired look that is canonly built by Idia just carries the ship by itself. Why is Idia such a weirdo degenerate pervert lol

YES LOL

I love that the majority of sus decisions in Ortho’s gears are the result of Idia’s design. And we’ve heard a couple of times that Idia is all about aesthetic + functionality, so…. Idia, mister, sir, please explain this…. Or rather, show your inspiration board. Come on, don’t be shy, we won’t judge👀

Anonymous asked:

You know those femme fatale characters that are as dangerous as they are beautiful, but who also seem completely devoted to the big villain of the story? I think that's the first thing that comes to Azul's mind when he imagines a romantic partner, except instead of an elegant and mysterious lady it's Jamil.

Azul, don't you know that those types turn against their boss/partner as soon as it's convenient for them? (something that is also true for Jamil, oh!) Realistically he knows that he would hate to be in a relationship with someone like that, but he can still let himself fantasize from time to time

This is actually quite a good point, Anon. I think this is exactly where Azul would put Jamil in his fantasies: this way they end up being a power-couple, but Jamil is still his pretty trophy snake. He is also probably aware that Jamil would never be fully and genuinely devoted to him, but yeah, just like you said, that won’t stop him from fantasising lol

Actually I think in Azul’s mind he would always outsmart Jamil somehow. Like Jamil would try to backstab him, but Azul predicted that he would, and therefore Jamil’s plan would backfire… hey, this is actually their dynamic in Ch4, sort of, at least in the Snake Whisper scene. So yeah, Jamil tries to betray him, Jamil gets overpowered and outwitted, they have a fight and then they have passionate sex during which Jamil can’t help but give in because he wants Azul so much and finds his intelligence and cunningness very sexy.

Of course, those are the fairy tales Azul tells himself as he falls asleep at night… who knows what the reality of that scenario would be.

m1lk-n-cook1es asked:

I saw you talking about twisted Shrek & Donkey and I've been thinking about making a DreamWorks-based fan school (but idk if they'll have a rivalry with NRC and RSA since it'll be a company feud, but I'm referencing the fact that DreamWorks was founded by a former Disney employee) so maybe their twisted versions can be from there

That would actually be funny lol Not sure what role they would play in-universe, but yeah, a mage that used to work at RSA/NRC suddenly opening up another school for those who deemed too unfit for these two schools? Or something like that.

Anonymous asked:

There are, surprisingly, or maybe not, a lot of mushroom themed household objects.  Do you think Jade only uses objects shaped liked mushrooms?  Is he trying to replace the utensils in the Mostro Lounge with mushroom shaped cooking ware?  Do you think any of the other boys have similar...fascinations?

I think Azul wouldn’t allow that… He is a meanie and doesn’t understand just how much it would boost everyone’s morale if Jade used mushroom-shaped cooking ware! But unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to fit the Lounge’s theme, even if it’s just for the kitchen…

In reality, I think if Jade were to try to sneak in some mushroom-themed stuff, he would do just for the sake of subtly being a menace lol

Also, there are surprisingly little mushroom-shaped things in Jade’s own room and accessories. What if he only acknowledges the real ones? 🤔 But then again, I could easily see him having an obnoxious collection of ceramic and plushy mushrooms in the future. It all started with a mushroom-shaped salt and pepper shakers…

[ikoarts]

October 2023 Art

for some reason i wrote a novel under the cut, for those of u actually reading, thank u for being so patient x

vvv dates + info under the cut vvv

1 - 03/10/2023 : another of my faves of last year, was trying to get better at drawing trainz, so just Edward and Toby hanging out, displaying the duality of old men x

2 - 04/10/2023 : got a new puter! one of the first things i set to doing after getting set up was to draw a Ru, of course, it was also just me trying to get used to the new MS paint..... it feels very odd

3, 4, 5 - 06/10/2023 : part 1 of redrawing random pics i have of Edward on my phone with my human version of him, this was really fun tbh, and the third here is one of my fave drawings of the year probs.. like sir.. those look heavy... what big uhh.. Glasses.. you have

6, 7, 8 - 07/10/2023 : part 2! i think i just like drawing his face... dare i say this train is cunty or will that get me exiled

9 - 08/10/2023 : something stupid i thought of and couldn't get out of my head for days so had to draw it..... little johnny from oingo boingo's only a lad, doing what he does best, fantasising about radios he wants oh so bad and running people down with a boyish craving for blood.. based on that 1 meme of the guy driving and thinking of a thing then making that insane face

10 - 09/10/2023 : based on that 1 silly vargskelethor song (that could not be less specific), had Shed 17 on the brain and was reminded of the milk song where the skeleton comes out.. thomarse dank 2 much milk and died..

11, 12 - 10/10/2023 : chooshada again :333 first a little doodle on my phone bc i was wondering about her livery, i do think she'd have originally been NER apple green but then painted NWR colours, butttt with a twist... coz i can do whatever i like... the twist is just that she's painted dark blue rather than a sky blue, coz its more her colour x

ALSO MS paint shada, wanted to draw her more uh, idk, detailed ig, idk i love this one, it also served as more train practice

13 - 13/10/2023 : previous one, but with COLOUR!! not much 2 say other than that shes very cute

14 - 18/10/2023 : saw a tweet abt old photos of engine crews posing with their crashed locos and how the NWR crews would do that, made me think of how, if Toni was (choo)shada's driver, she'd do that.. probably x .. very like her to slay in the midst of a terrible accident

15 - 22/10/2023 : predictably, i have some playlists for the ttte engines, one for Diesel which is notable here, so uhh, i have the scrapped song from the lorax "biggering" in there, bc i see it as like a Duck vs Diesel song, ik im surpassing several layers of cringe here but hear me out ok... i drew this at 2am coz i couldn't stop thinking of Duck lecturing Diesel

16, 17, 18 - 25/10/2023 : speaking of playlists, think i was listening to my Robin one here, and felt like drawing him, i have "the land of make believe" in there, which ive always found to be an oddly haunting song, so this is semi based on that, though that wouldn't be apparent if i hadn't just told u x .. this looks like vent art but tis not i was just having fun

also tiny chooshada, i was in the middle of writing something which i have literally Just remembered now and i was writing a scene where Ru is stuck between some characters who shes not looking forward to working with bc they're about to bicker the whole fuckin time and one of them thinks shes a dick, so i drew her being sad that shes forced to work with morons..... and speak of the devil, 3rd drawing is here with 2 of the aforementioned morons :D i think D+D take a liking to her, they're just a little obnoxious (love them for that)

19 - 27/10/2023 : a quick(ish) digital thing of Chooshada again that i did on the side of another project, more engine drawing practice he he, she'll be out of proportion and lacking detail but really it was just to not be too hard on myself about that, it did help i think to understand how to draw her more, plus just look at her lil face... also she has a number here, doesn't mean much other than 8 being her lucky number, other than 11, like those are just her numbers, suppose i could have it be 1188 to ref her bday, idfk x

[hyodyton]

Saw that you said you’ve seen 11 adaptations of Great Expectations? So curious on your rankings and which ones you like the most/reccomend!

OMG AHAH YES... It's even more than 11 now! Including theatre productions, even went to one recently :')  English is not my native language, BUT..

I rank them, but mostly for myself, as the criteria is very specific.

But I can recommend them! I'll talk mostly about the ones I liked, because the ones I hated could be talked about forever.

Naturally, the 1946 version is good, even if it has a romantic ending (which I personally can't stand, but it's present in 90% of the adaptations, so if it happens in the final seconds, you can tolerate it). At least the atmosphere is retained and the film is really great.

I also really liked the 1922 silent black and white Danish film, there's something special about it. Naturally, it was quite shabby, but the actors show everything perfectly with their facial expressions. And most importantly, it's atmospheric and funny. I highly recommend watching it if only for the sake of the experience! I was especially hooked by the very first scene. It's very rare that an adaptation pays more attention to it than the scene where Pip and Magwitch meet. When, as in the book, it's quite sad, as Pip strokes tombstones and fantasises about what his parents might have looked like. So in the film it takes a certain amount of time and he just lies by the tombstones while the wind ripples the grass and you can see the gallows in the background.

For me in general, the most important thing about an adaptation of Great Expectations is that it has to be funny and tragic. Humour is such an important part of the book, and black humour at that.

The 1999 series isn't bad either, although it's quite dark. But here I was sometimes confused by the presentation of the characters, but it's definitely very good compared to many others.

But my personal favourite is the 1989 series, I like everything about this adaptation. And it's naturally tasteful, but all the characters behave the way I expect them to! Especially Pip, Estella and Herbert, they generally often screw up in their character writing in adaptations. In this version, Pip is literally the best I've ever seen.

And Miss Havisham, how gorgeous she is! She is, by the way, played by the actress who played Estella in the 1946 version! (and who better to play Miss Havisham than Estella, ahah).

There's a lot in this adaptation that's often cut or portrayed in a way that's better not tried. Hammersmith with the Pockets family, Wemmick's house is charming with A.P. and Miss Skiffins! What a delightful Joe and Biddy there...... And the fight scene between Pip and Herbert? Wonderful. Funny, ridiculous and with a complete lack of any aggression, as it should be. Pip and Herbert are great here in general, very nice. 

In short, yes. Favourite adaptation.

The 1981 series isn't bad either!

In other adaptations I usually only like certain elements, or the way certain moments are played around.

And it's often just a shame that good actors are used so poorly.

I don't like the 2011 and 2012 versions at all, although I've seen 2012 occasionally praised. But how bad is it for me.... Such disrespect to Estella's character. Not to mention the others, Pip I can't digest here at all. Literally the only good thing I could see for myself was the use of Handel's nickname. But there's a very strange Herbert here and it looks very vulgar and not sincere.

In both these versions Miss Havisham is played by eminent admirable actresses, but how strangely the character of the heroine is turned out by the writers... Such wasted potential with such a cast. There are especially a lot of questions for 2011 in terms of Miss Havisham. Brr. I also hate it when Biddy is made whiny and helplessly in love with Pip. So does Estella...

( Also a shame about Harry Lloyd as Herbert, how little he was and how hastily he was cut. It's a strange desire to cut Herbert out of the plot, to fuse him somewhere. Often, he and Pip aren't even close friends, it's like they're no more than neighbours and drinking buddies. There is no deep connection and no tender loyal friendship).

The 1974 version is neither good nor bad, but rather odd. But I was amused by the scene where Molly is forced to show her strength. She and Drummle wrestle at arm's length and he, of course, shamefully loses.

Here I decided to slow down and not describe absolutely everything I've watched so the post doesn't get any longer. (God I hope you find this post at all useful... And I hope you'll respond.Honestly, if you get the urge to discuss it, I'd be delighted!)

Although it's impossible not to mention the Australian cartoon 1983. It's so bad it's good. It's so fucked up. Had the odd pleasure of watching it, but of course it's bad.

But. Most of all, I hate the 2023 version with all my heart. It doesn't have a single silver lining. It's just disgusting and unbearable to watch, they wanted to look at the story in a new way but fucked up absolutely everything. What a waste of cool cast, impossible.

[putschki1969]

2023/04/23 Blog post by Wakana 久しぶりのネットサイン会☆〜見守りニッパーくん〜 

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First Online Sign Event in a While☆〜Nipper-kun is Watching Over Me〜

The other day, I finally started doing my first interviews for the upcoming album😊 After hearing some of the album impressions from the interviewers, I feel an immense joy that people are finally getting to listen to it. I can’t wait to hear from all of you soon!

Hello, this is Wakana (0￣▽￣0)／

May 31st is still a long way to go. Until then, please try to be patient while fantasising about the "Imaginary Album Sono Saki he"!🥺✨

Well, last Sunday, I did an online sign event for the first time in a long while, it was for everyone who pre-ordered my original 3rd album "Sono Saki eh"! It's been such a long time since I've done a session like that. Thankfully, a lot of people were able to participate, I ended up signing autographs and talking for nearly 3 hours＼(^o^)／Overall, this is my third online sign session, so I tried to devise a method based on the experience from the previous events. First of all, I noticed that I will always make mistakes if I write your name while talking so this time, I tried to make sure to finish a certain amount of sheets before taking a break to talk with you. Essentially, I completely separated the writing and chatting time! \\\\٩( 'ω' )و //// This strategy worked very well, and the number of errors decreased dramatically! Also, once we had reached the halfway point we decided to include a brief intermission of about 8 minutes. During that time, I we were playing video snippets of the Christmas concert which is included as bonus content on the A version of my album. We also showed a past MV☺️ I was trying my best to look through everyone's comments, it was so much fun that the the whole event went by in the blink of an eye😍Thank you very much to everyone who participated 🤗💕 If you weren’t able to watch it in real-time, the archived video is still available until the end of today! Please take a look! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XoTGVkjFxB4

When I started watching it just now, I couldn't stop laughing it was pretty funny 😂And cute little Nipper-kun was watching over me from beginning to end🐕I didn't even realize he was there until the end🤣🤣 Oi, Nipper-kun! Why didn’t you tell me you were there earlier??! 😊The silent pressure of him watching got quite bad.

The second online sign ession will be held on May 13th (Sat) at 17:00❗️See you again on the Official Victor YouTube Channel⭐️

And yesterday, the advanced fan club lottery has started for my "Wakana Billboard Live 2023 ~Sono Saki he~"! This time, I will be performing together with Satoshi Takebe on piano, Tetsuro Toyama on guitar, and Yugo Maeda on manipulator! I want you to enjoy this new album in a lovely acoustic manner among the special Billboard Live atmosphere🥰 Please come and see me on July 6th at Billboard Live Yokohama and July 20th at Billboard Live Osaka😆

Well, I shall leave it at that☆See you soon☆( *'▽'*)/

＊＊＊Wakana＊＊＊

[crawlingbetweenearthandheaven]

kendall roy headcanons?

is this the same person as earlier or is this an old ask tumblr ate? anyway.

can't stop thinking about Kendall and lighthouses. like. there's this one in west cornwall, godrevy. it's said to have been an inspiration for "to the lighthouse" by virginia woolf. it's strange there. busy, sometimes, but then sometimes just you and the seabirds and the seals below and the waves crashing on the rocks. you feel very small and very big at the same time. very old and very young. i see every version of myself who has ever stood at the seashore or looked down at the rocks. that seabreeze seaweed smell. not quite the land and not quite the sea.

so i think he'd go to as many as he could, in the uk at least. i read a fascinating book about the lighthouses of britain recently. i think he'd like the idea of living in one for a while (do some writing, learn bird calls, do a job which gives him calluses on his hands. sea air a cure-all. sort of famous five ideas in his head. dog called timmy optional) but he'd crack up too quickly or he'd beg stewy or roman to join him and then fantasise about killing them. albatross flying overhead. omens. water water everywhere..

[elapsed-spiral]

I would love to hear your thoughts on Prize Every Time or Trade Descriptions Act!

Thanks for indulging me! Man, it feels like an age since I wrote Prize Every Time but here’s some director’s commentary before I forget even more:

Setting: I love the British seaside, so much so that I live there now. I don’t live in Ramsgate but I had a comment asking if I did, which was a badge of honour. The actual setting is a mishmash of Ramsgate (the lighthouse, the concept of Ramsgate Time and the overall Vibes) and Southend (which has a theme park on the front, which Ramsgate doesn’t).  

Structure: I’m happy overall with the plot and structure. I said it before but I still maintain that this is a better version of You’ve Got Mail's plot, which I didn’t watch until I’d finished writing the fic.  

Characters: Baddy Zaddy was my Stede focus novel length fic, so I went into Prize wanting it to be more Ed leaning. I like how I wrote both Ed and Stede, but I especially enjoyed digging down into Ed’s mummy and daddy issues.  

Favourite scene: I think one of my favourite scenes may actually be most people’s least favourite? I really like when Ed and Stede finally meet and forgive one another. Stede’s dialogue felt like some of the best and most honest dialogue I’d written in a while. I think some readers expected things to be very dramatic and angsty but I’d planned that resolution from the start and was happy with how it came out.  

Best joke: Ed fantasising about getting shagged over a Tesco self service till is fairly iconic. 

Biggest regret: I think some of the final chapters could have been tighter. Like Stede, I got a bit bogged down in project management, but it’s fine, you live and learn. 

Cheeky secret: I ummed and ahhed about whether to add in the Lucius Reveal at the end. I plotted the fic as I went (I’m fine writing plot outlines if I’m writing an actual, literal book for sale but I don’t find them fun so I don’t do them for fics) and made a point of sticking in enough Lucius Reveal hints, in case I decided to go that way but was still undecided until close to the end. My mind was finally made up when I got the mental image of Ed planting a big, sloppy thank you kiss on Lucius. 

[arkhamasyl-m]

Joker Folie à Deux Prediction:

So I had this random thought at like 3AM, and wanted to write it down because it would be funny if I got it right or close to right but anyways.

Basically I think the whole film it will be focused on Harleen and her descent into becoming Harley Quinn, which seems obvious enough, however I think the majority of the film will be from her perspective as she drags Arthur along for the ride all while he’s still struggling with how two persona’s. Her growing relationship with him and her getting a similar alter ego to him would start making him go crazy again before eventually he becomes the Joker and she becomes Harley.

However I think there will be a plot twist, similar to the first film. I believe the film will be from Harley’s perspective and the musical numbers will be from her twisted mind as she slowly descends, with it being framed as if everything happening is from Harley’s point of view as she is now the unreliable narrator, and the audience will be led on to believe that she is manipulating Arthur into becoming the Joker again, implying her fall to madness is bringing him down with her BUT the twist is it’s all actually Arthur’s delusions.

The entire film was implied to be Harley’s unreliable version of events but in actuality it was his and the musical numbers and implications that Harley manipulated him was all actually his hallucinations.

If you want to go a step further, I had an idea that perhaps EVERYTHING is a delusion and the reality is that Arthur is still in the Asylum and started fantasising about a romantic relationship with his psychiatrist (Harleen) but as a nihilist and a mentally disturbed man, his romantic fantasies turn dark and he portrays the girl as the villain and himself as the victim. This would parallel his relationship (or lack there of) with Sophie Dumond, as he had one nice interaction with her and imagined a whole relationship with her. He now has a nice psychiatrist and imagines a whole life with her. His delusions being darker than they were in the first film would also make sense since he is a bad guy by the end of it, so him making himself out to be an innocent victim whilst the woman he’s enamoured with is portrayed as a villain would indeed fit I think.

Though I do think the entire thing being fake is kinda dumb, so that entire last part can be ignored it’s just something I thought of.

TL;DR: In Joker 2, the film will be framed as it Harleen is the unreliable protagonist, and all the odd events are from her perspective however it will be revealed at the end that it’s actually Arthur imagining these events and making himself out to be the victim whilst portraying Harleen as the bad guy.

[writtenexplorations]

Author's notes

This is a collection of brief notes on the influences and circumstances that shaped the stories in this collection.

Santa Reparata:

This story is an exception to my usual creative process. It came to me in a dream during the pandemic. I woke up one night paralysed by fear, with memories of descending into a dark tunnel. I wrote the skeleton of the story that same night and subsequently shaped it into a tale of introspection and disconnection from the outside world.

SystemCheck:

Thinking about a friend who trained as a data scientist, I thought about how we train people to do jobs that feel very machine-like, and at the same time, we train machines, like chat bots, to talk and feel like humans. This quickly formed into a funny thought: how would a machine face a very human-like problem?

Writing a story in code felt somehow too complicated for a reader, but I was encouraged by the very readable  'Pigmy' (by Chuck Palahniuk), a book intentionally made difficult by the broken English of a foreign student, and “Flowers from Algernon” (Daniel Keyes), a story told in first-person by a man with severe cognitive challenges.

Slow:

Tending to my garden on a summer night, I started fantasising about the snails that came every evening to nibble on my lettuce. I was in an unhappy job at the time so these thoughts took the shape of someone breaking out of an oppressive system to be a freer version of themselves. This was written years before Pixar made the movie 'Turbo', and it's been fun to see a very different execution of a similar idea.

Out:

This is one pretty simple. I wanted to write something more action-driven and less self-reflective than my usual writings. I challenged myself to write about something unexpected, which included movement. The streets of south London were the setting I had in mind while writing this story.

Float:

During the first pandemic lockdown I was split between feelings of being trapped at home but also being lucky to have a safe space in my house, with food, entertainment and everything else I needed to survive.

Cut off from friends and family, I played with the feelings of living suspended in time, away from the lives of others, trapped but not in danger.

It felt right from the beginning to write the protagonist of this story completely genderless. I find it interesting to hear that readers assigned one or another gender to the protagonist, when actually none is set by the story.

A Theory of Unity:

There are a couple of very clear influences on this story.

The idea of a scientific breakthrough with the potential for broad societal changes was inspired by Ursula Le Guinn’s “The Dispossessed”. But while she developed her characters beautifully and chose to fly over the actual theory, I opted to do the opposite.  

The theory is my own amalgamation of personal thoughts, where I recognise the influence of Alan Watts and Richard Burke (a short paragraph is actually a play on his ‘Cosmic Consciousness”) plus light touches of Buddhist and Muslim concepts such as codependent origination and the oneness of divinity.

Writing one story across unrelated smaller parts is something I wanted to try since reading “The Years of Rice and Salt” by Kim Stanley Robinson, and this theme felt well suited for.

[annisthree]

Chapter VII: Lean on me

previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter

Pairing: Cassian Andor x Original Female Character

Word Count: ~6k

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, canon typical violence, alcohol consumption

Chapter summary: The journey back from Coruscant is much more exciting than anyone expected. Back on Yavin IV, a new crewmember officially joins their squad.

A/N: Yeah, so I changed my mind; it's not gonna be a separate fic. I have no idea what I'm doing. Somebody stop me.

Cross-posted on AO3 (same username).

The caf was stale and bitter, but it filled her with a pleasant wave of warmth. In fact, it warmed Marla up enough that she could consider taking off her jacket - but it was so cosy, even with a gaping hole at the side. More importantly, though, there was still a hint of Cassian beneath the stench of smoke. She hated how comforting that made her feel.

Melshi and Marla were both sitting in the ship's common room, but he was busy typing up what he'd learnt from the Imperial database (a cheeky move from Cassian's side, she thought - once Melshi hands in his writing assignment, Cassian's mission report would be more than halfway done before he even started). So she had no choice but to inspect the dirty kitchenette floor in silence.

Her own mission report, if anyone tasked her with writing one, would probably look something like this: the cantina was a dump, but whatever Cassian ordered for her made up for the questionable aesthetics of the place; the safehouse was also a dump, but at least the beds were less single than she was used to, which - what do you know - ended up coming in handy; they got to taste some of Coruscanti culture in the form of being randomly attacked on the street; her brain froze for long enough for her to come to the conclusion that middle of the fight is a perfect moment to make out with Cassian; she got to operate a repulsor crane (probably would have been more fun if she wasn't being shot at); and it turned out that the new guy wasn't that bad.

She briefly considered stealing Cassian's datapad to replace his boring report with her own version. She was sure Draven (or whoever was reading these - if anyone) would have appreciated the comedic value. Or, if not, it would at least be fun to watch them read her disquisition on how Cassian's lips tasted in the middle of a battle.

Marla smiled at the thought and finished her caf in one long sip. Maker, but he did have the most amazing lips, didn't he?

Kriffing hell. It seemed like she was becoming more and more comfortable with thinking about Cassian in that way. Half a year ago, catching herself fantasising about his lips would have made her throw herself out of the airlock - and yet, here she was, staring at the closed door of the captain's quarters, spiralling deeper and deeper into the territory she should steer clear from.

'Gonna go to the cargo bay, check out that droid Cassian is working on.' Yes, excellent idea, you go. 

Her mind's reaction was way too enthusiastic for her liking. She had nothing against the new guy. But he was an obstacle on her way to the captain's quarters... should she decide to check up on Cassian. Which she definitely shouldn't.

'Down the stairs, then down the ladder. Maybe don't activate him yet, though. I'm not sure how far Cassian has gotten.'

Melshi nodded and disappeared below deck, and Marla's inexplicable enthusiasm was replaced by a very understandable, very real and very familiar fear.

Now she really had no reason to stay where she was. It was, in the end, her ship. She could go wherever she pleased.

She slipped out of Cassian's jacket in a matter of seconds, and the sudden blast of chilly air against her bare skin was the final straw.

It was no big deal; they would just be blowing off some steam after a stressful mission. Surely she wasn't the first person in the Rebellion to sleep with her captain.

No big deal.

  *

  There was a knock on Cassian's door, crescendoing from a quiet tap into a loud, impatient bang. He didn't have to open the door to know who it was; between Marla and Melshi, only one seemed able to make the simple act of knocking into something this chaotic.

So, he wasn't surprised seeing Marla on his doorstep - but what he couldn't guess was the reason for her visit. Not that she was particularly good at hiding her feelings - on the contrary, they were all painted on her face, all five thousand of them, and that was a bit too much for him to process into one logical explanation.

'Can I help you?'

Instead of answering, she walked past him and went into his room. Right, then. Not in the mood for explanations. Fair enough.

The door closed with a mechanical swoosh. Cassian leaned against it, hooking his thumbs in his belt and patiently waiting for some clues as to the reason for Marla's visit.

He had some ideas. Some of them he liked more than others, but he decided to wait with further judgement until more information was available. He was a patient man. And she could never stay quiet for long.

Standing in the centre of the room, Marla was now fidgeting with the edge of her white shirt. She avoided eye contact, instead focusing on the wall a few steps to his right.

'Would you believe me if I said that Melshi was occupying the refresher below deck?'

Don't get your hopes up.

'Well, now I definitely--'

He was planning to finish that sentence, he really was, but then a couple of things happened.

First, Marla scanned the room, still visibly avoiding looking at Cassian. Then, she made her way to the refresher, leaving the door ajar as she entered.

And then she nonchalantly took her shirt off, letting it fall to the ground.

Consequently, Cassian's mind became temporarily vacant. He forgot not only what he wanted to say, but seemingly also most of his Basic.

Meanwhile, Marla proceeded to unbutton and take off her trousers, throwing them carelessly on the floor.

Oh, okay.

He had no idea how he managed to keep still. In his mind, he was already all over her, his lips claiming the soft skin on her neck, and then the rest of her body, slowly, methodically, tenderly...

They stayed like that for what seemed to have been an eternity: Marla, in nothing but underwear, traces of goosebumps slowly appearing on her arms and legs; and Cassian, painfully aware of the surprised look on his face, along with the rest of his bodily reactions.

'I thought we could save some power if we showered together,' she mumbled, unconvinced.

Oh, that classic line he had used so many times before. But it didn't matter. Somehow, in this scenario, it sounded like the most eloquent thing Cassian had ever heard.

He let out a long, heavy sigh, tilted his head back, and watched Marla through half-lidded eyes as she began taking off her sports bra. She started out slowly, carefully maintaining eye contact - only to get stuck halfway through her head, desperately fighting to wiggle herself out.

'Stupid fucking thing.'

He briefly considered letting her struggle, just to enjoy how hard she was trying to pretend she had everything under control. However, his merciful side won and stifling a laugh, he crossed the room to offer his assistance. Somewhere along the way, he'd lost his own shirt. He didn't even register taking it off.

'Thanks,' she muttered, face redder than the molten seas of Mustafar. He didn't know what he wanted more: to hug her and kiss her on the forehead until she relaxed, or to allow himself to lose whatever self-control he had left, pin her to the wall and let his hands reclaim all those places he'd been yearning to touch again.

Luckily, he didn't have to choose. Marla decided for them both, closing the already minimal distance between them and reaching down to unbutton his trousers.

'But I really do wanna take a shower, okay?' she whispered breathily, an undertone of nervousness still clearly audible. 'We're both really disgusting.'

He gave a short, quiet chuckle and motioned towards the sonic shower. 'After you.'

The shower definitely wasn't designed with two people in mind, but right now, Cassian was almost grateful for the lack of space.

He had enough clarity of mind to turn the shower on before he finally pulled Marla as close as he could, as if to make sure there wasn't a single spot on their bodies left untouched. It felt like they were burning and melting into one singular entity.

And then she kissed him, impatiently, fiercely, weaving her fingers into his hair, and he kissed her back, and he wished that kiss could tell her all those things he didn't know how to describe or name. He wished it could tell the story of fear and comfort, of guilt and absolution, of finding purpose in the most unlikely place.

He hoped one day he would be able to put all those things into words. For now, though, a kiss had to suffice.

They briefly broke the kiss to catch a breath, and for a moment, her exhales became his inhales, and the air tasted like caf and anticipation.

'Good thing we passed on those pickled eggs,' he whispered, and she laughed and rested her forehead on his, and he felt like the happiest man in the galaxy.

He rarely allowed himself to feel that way. It wasn't smart, it wasn't strategic, and he had a very strong suspicion it would inevitably lead to getting really, really hurt. Or dead, killed by his naivety and selfishness, and by his brain's increasingly frequent tendency to get distracted in the least desirable circumstances.

But he needed this. After years of convincing himself that he was fine, he really fucking needed this.

He would have been perfectly happy staying like that forever, with her breath on his jaw and her heartbeat against his skin. But he also wanted more, and her eyes told him she did, too.

And so he continued staring into her eyes as his hands slowly began travelling down from her neck, tracing the line of her collarbones, and then lower, finally reaching her chest.

He could feel her shiver ever so slightly - and if he thought the smile she'd been giving him before was criminally disarming, then the bliss that painted on her face at that moment, as he continued tracing the soft skin around her nipples - that look on her face was simply cruel. Stars, how did she do all those things to him? How could it be so damn easy to have him wrapped around her finger?

Once Cassian was sure the sight was forever imprinted in his memory, he slowly moved to kiss Marla's neck. She tilted her head back and sighed quietly, and that was all the encouragement he needed to keep going, lower, and then lower, until his lips replaced his hands, and she almost jumped up at the contact.

'Good?' he chuckled, purposefully letting the air tickle the now-damp skin of her nipples, and she mumbled something in reply, incoherently enough for him to count it as a confirmation.

She gasped as his lips came in contact with her skin again, and this time it was her turn to let out a small laugh, and then he felt her chest vibrate as she finally managed to force her voice to cooperate.

'Come on, Keef, I-- I don't have all-- all day.'

He stopped immediately and straightened up, giving her the most disapproving look he could muster - which probably wasn't very disapproving at all, seeing how he couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from forming a smile. The only reaction he managed to get from her was a chuckle.

But the chuckle quickly turned into a surprised sigh when he suddenly pushed her back against the shower wall.

'You're mean,' he commented with a grin, before turning his attention back to her neck. God, he loved that spot. It was so soft, and it somehow always smelled wonderfully inviting, even when she was fresh out of a fight, sweaty, dirty, and so ridiculously and cruelly arousing. 'I'm not sure I want to continue spending time with someone who makes fun of me,' he whispered into her neck, his fingers slowly working their way down until they reached their destination at the apex of her thighs, and she inhaled so sharply he automatically retreated.

'No, no, no, no, please-- please don't stop now.' She grabbed his hand and placed it back where it had been, and it was so bloody hot and yet so bloody precious to see her this desperate for him that he began wondering how much self-restraint he had left.

Meanwhile, Marla sighed again and gently shifted her hips forward, pushing into his hand as he continued exploring her, reading each quiet moan and each tensing of her muscles.

'Look at me.' He had to see her face, had to see the gentle movement of her parted lips as she desperately gasped for air, and that divine spark she had in her eye, and those beautiful lines that formed between her eyebrows as she shut her eyes tight when he slipped one of his fingers inside her.

His other hand went to her chin to gently tilt it in his direction, just so that he wouldn't miss any of it, and her eyes were suddenly so big and so full of everything he loved about her that he almost forgot what he was doing.

But he didn't forget. He didn't stop. Soon, her panting began quickening, and he could feel that air on his lips, and it was warm, and fast, and sweet. 

It was fascinating, reading all those signals and reacting to what her body was telling him. And, although Cassian Andor may have had his flaws, he sure as hell knew how to listen.

And so he listened, and he replied with his own wordless ode, and his hands and eyes and lips accompanied him, and he could see she heard him, too, and her body was responding more and more decidedly, boldly, uncontrollably, and then finally he felt every single muscle in her body tense, and then she squeezed her eyes shut and yanked her head forward, pushing it into the base of his neck, and whimpering quiet prayers into his skin, and it was all he ever wanted to hear for the rest of his life.

It felt like forever before she started breathing again and pulled away from him ever so slightly. He could feel her legs shake as she grabbed onto his chest to steady herself and gave him that beautiful blissful look again.

He was happy, so fucking happy he felt he would never need anything again. At one point, he realised he almost stopped breathing too, and stars, he felt everything, all of it, all at once, and it was so fucking beautiful he could barely stand it.

'How about we find someplace more comfortable?' Marla's voice sounded more precious than ever, with that barely noticeable tremble and softness she normally never allowed herself to show.

And so, of course, he did what she asked him. He was long past the point of being able not to.

And it didn't matter that Melshi would probably hear them (and proceed to make fun of them for the rest of their lives); it didn't matter that Cassian was slowly losing control of this weird thing that was happening between the two of them; it didn't matter that Marla would most likely be gone as soon as this was over.

He had her now. And he knew he'd be thinking about that moment for a long time.

  *

  'Captain...? Captain, are you all right?'

Was he? Hard to tell. He definitely didn't use to get distracted mid-conversation. He was always focused, attentive, and perceptive - he had to be, or he wouldn't have lasted more than a week doing what he did. And yet here he was now, caught red-handed, staring at the vast jungle outside the landing pad on Yavin IV, completely ignoring the poor Twi'lek mechanic who had the unfortunate task of briefing him on the results of the assessment of K2SO.

It was a standard procedure, and Cassian usually didn't have problems following these - but somehow, at that particular moment, it was the most tedious and tiring conversation he could imagine, to the point of being almost physically painful.

'Yes. I apologise. Long flight.' Lie. 

'I understand,' the mechanic certainly tried to look like he understood, bless his heart, although they both knew the flight from Coruscant wasn't really long at all. Just long enough to catch a breath after the fight and finish reprogramming his droid. And take a shower, a really long and exciting shower, and then proceed to get sweaty again.

'Thank you, chief,' Damn, what was his name? Neec? Naac? 'Please, go on.'

'As I was saying, the assessment is overall positive, but there are some little tweaks I'd recommend to ensure the droid is a bit more... cooperative,' the Twi'lek paused for a moment, powering up his datapad. 'I have him scheduled for updating his behavioural parameters, reinstalling the logic module, and adding a new hardware package. He will also be fitted with a class five restraining--'

'Thank you, that won't be necessary.'

'Excuse me?' the mechanic gave him a surprised look from behind the datapad.

'I appreciate your analysis, chief, and I will make sure to keep an eye on him. But I would prefer to keep his programming as close to the original as possible. Minus, you know, the bit that made him Imperial. He needs to act like a security droid if he is ever to be useful for undercover missions.'

'I see,' the mechanic slowly replied, giving Cassian a long, careful look, before tapping something on his datapad. 'It'll just be the restraining bolt, then.'

'That won't be necessary, either.'

'But captain--'

'Thank you, chief,' Cassian repeated, a bit more decidedly this time.

'But what if--'

'As I said, I'll keep a close eye on him.'

There was a mixture of apprehension and frustration on the Twi'lek's face, and Cassian felt a brief pang of remorse for making the poor guy's life more difficult.

'Very well. But I will have to make a note of the fact that you have rejected my recommendation,' he looked up at Cassian again as if hoping that would change his mind. It did not. The Twi'lek sighed quietly and shook his head. 'You can pick him up from storage C at your earliest convenience.'

'Absolutely, chief. Thank you for your time.'

The men exchanged polite nods, and Cassian walked away, leaving behind the poor mechanic and the warmth of the sunlight that was such a pleasant change from the darkness and murkiness of Coruscant.

He wasn't yet entirely sure how he felt about the droid. It certainly made sense from the practical point of view - he would blend in perfectly during undercover missions, and the knowledge of Imperial protocol (although some of it had to be wiped out) could potentially be a significant asset. But, even though it's been a couple of years (four? five? he tried not to count), there was still a B2-shaped hole in Cassian's heart, and it felt a bit strange - a bit too much like betrayal - to just replace him like that.

But Bee was out of the picture. Even if he managed to track him down, the poor old droid wouldn't be of much use in his current circumstances. And having him around, as good as it would probably feel, could also bring back some memories he wasn't quite ready to face.

That didn't make him feel any less like a traitor, but he couldn't let that cloud his judgement. Maker knows there were way too many things distracting him as it was.

Storage C was a vast warehouse in one of the underground levels of the base. There didn't seem to be any specific organisational system in place, but somehow, the warehouse workers were able to tell him exactly where to look. The only thing left was to go to the back of the room and find K2 among all the other droids that were waiting there. Which was a fairly simple task, considering Kay was twice as tall as most of them.

'Okay, buddy,' Cassian mumbled, his hand reaching out to brush against the cold metal. 'Let's get you started and see if I made the right choice.'

  *

  Meanwhile, Marla's first steps after they landed on the base led her towards the Drunken Bantha. The adrenaline of the mission, the unexpected fight, and the eventful journey back - all of that left her in dire need of a drink. Or five.

Each time she visited the cantina, there was a new addition to the erratic decor of the place. People brought back all kinds of junk from different off-world missions, which then ended up displayed somewhere on the counter, hung on the wall, or - only occasionally - serving an actual functional purpose. Thus, what started as a couple of crates with alcohol and a couple of more bins for people to sit on, very quickly became a loud, colourful assortment of trinkets and mismatched furniture.

It had a certain cosiness to it, though. The multitude of strange objects meant that whatever part of the galaxy you came from, you could always find something that reminded you of home.

They didn't have a bartender, of course - the place was still technically unsanctioned - so the bar was tended to by whoever felt like doing so. Which, at that particular moment, was a four-armed Besalisk who had definitely already had his fair share of whatever he was serving.

Sitting behind the counter (where the hell did they get bar stools? and when did that happen?), Marla quietly sipped an unidentified beer and watched the motley assortment of Rebel soldiers share stories and jokes.

'One could think you were hiding from someone,' a familiar voice interrupted Marla's quiet contemplation. She usually wasn't one to avoid company - no, that was Cassian's thing - but somehow today she was really hoping to spend some time alone and finally think through some things she'd been putting off for way too long.

Well. Evidently, the universe was sending signals she should nurture her avoidant escapism for a bit longer. She was more than happy to comply.

'One would be terribly mistaken,' she smirked at Zafe, one hand motioning to the empty bar stool beside her. 'This is probably the most obvious place for me to be in. Arguably, more obvious than our quarters.'

'Fair enough.' He gestured at the bartender and pointed at one of the bottles. 'So. I hear you're leaving again tomorrow, huh?'

'Yup. We're following the lead on those shipments. Which means we have to cross the whole damn galaxy, all the way to the Arkanis sector.'

'Well, that should be a fun ride. Is the new guy coming along with you?'

'Why, jealous?' She gave him a wide grin. 'No. It's just Cassian and me. And the droid,' the last word was accompanied by an eye-roll.

'Romantic.'

'Hardly,' Marla put all her energy into giving him the most dramatic death stare she had in her repertoire. 'For so many reasons, the main one being that there is nothing romantic about what we're doing. And it's a mission, and we're both professionals. Plus, I did mention the droid, right?'

'That sounds like a bunch of excuses.'

'You're an asshole. Get a life.'

'Ouch. Right where it hurts.' Zafe smirked back at her.

There was a loud burst of laughter from one of the tables in the corner that saved Marla from having to reply. Instead, she turned around to ask for another beer, only to find the bartender asleep with his head resting on the counter.

As she was about to turn back around to face Zafe, a loud thump caught her attention, shortly followed by another one - and before she knew it, Zafe was already behind the bar, picking up two beer bottles from the cabinet. 'What? I have only so much patience.'

The beer tasted cheap (not like that Chandrilan whisky Cassian got her on Coruscant) and watered down (how is that even possible? it was just opened...), but, as she tipped back her head to down almost half of the bottle in one go, she decided it was good enough.

'Nervous?' Zafe's eyes flickered from Marla to her bottle.

'Always.'

'About the mission or about your new boyf--'

'Shut up. We're just-- just shut up.'

The other half of the beer tasted somehow better. Similarly, the music became magically more catchy, and the loud group of Rodians playing sabacc in the corner - slightly less aggravating.

'Another one?' Such a good person, that guy. Good and non-judgemental. Cassian would have definitely--

'Based on my analysis,' a loud, mechanical voice behind her had Marla's hands instinctively shoot towards where she usually kept her blasters, 'continued consumption could impede cognitive processing, potentially impacting the Lieutenant's ability to perform optimally during tomorrow's mission.'

'Oh, great. It's you.'

Most people on the base were already aware of Cassian's new droid - the command had to send a note to all captains to warn everyone and kindly ask them to resist the urge to turn K2 into a scrap heap. Still, the appearance of a tall, Imperial-looking killing machine strolling down the halls triggered visible unease at best and outright contempt at worst.

Marla was much more inclined towards the second reaction.

'Can you go back to bothering Cassian, please?'

'I have been informed I do not yet have the clearance to accompany Cassian during mission debriefs - a fact that I personally consider to be a waste of tactical assets. He has, however, tasked me with locating you and making sure you are, I quote, not doing anything stupid.'

Completely unfazed by the attention he was getting, K2 stopped in front of Marla, his glowing eyes seemingly scanning her. Was he scanning her?

Damn it. It was bad enough that Cassian could read people's darkest, deepest secrets within seconds of meeting them. Now he had a fucking personal investigator, too.

'How considerate of him,' she groaned, mentally coming to terms with the fact Cassian had just assigned her a babysitter.

'My analysis of your vitals indicates that you are experiencing heightened stress levels,' Oh, great, so he was scanning me. 'As a droid, I do not have personal experience with stress, but I understand that it can be detrimental to one's well-being.'

'Thank you for sharing your expertise. I am forever in your debt.'

'Might I suggest engaging in a calming activity, such as meditation or breathing exercises?' There was a loud scoff coming from behind the counter, and Marla didn't even have to look to know how delighted Zafe was at her misery. Not such a good person after all, huh? 'Alternatively, physical exercise has been shown to reduce stress levels. I can assist you in finding a suitable workout routine if you would like.'

'I am perfectly capable of finding my own workout routine, thank you very much.'

'My analysis of your fitness levels--'

'Oh, for fuck's sake. You know what? Fine. I'll work on my fitness levels. In fact, I have a perfect idea how to do that.'

'Wonderful. Will you require my assistance?'

Marla felt a wide grin splitting her face. Was it a smart idea? Probably not. But she was drunk, bored and frustrated enough to give it a try.

'Yes, I will, K2. Yes, I will.'

  *

  'Why did you do this, Marla?'

'Do what?'

'You know what. Did you really think this would be a good idea?'

Marla shrugged, her eyes slowly scanning the nearly empty mess hall, very clearly avoiding looking at Cassian. The pack of frozen mattberries she was pressing to her browbone had already begun thawing, creating a small puddle of water mixed with blood next to the table Marla was sitting on.

'Let me see,' Cassian asked, and then, not waiting for a confirmation, proceeded to remove the cold compress from her forehead. 'Ouch,' he commented, inspecting the fresh cut on her browbone, surrounded by a patch of red he knew would soon turn into a colourful bruise. 'Well. I'd say I hope it teaches you a lesson, but we both know that's not happening.'

'Give me that,' she ripped the frozen berries from his hands. 'We were just sparring. I need to make sure my melee skills are on point so that I can keep saving your sorry ass from all kinds of trouble. So. I practice.'

'With a seven-foot tall Imperial killing machine?'

'I like a challenge,' she grinned at him.

'And you couldn't have sparred with Zafe or Melshi, or, I don't know, any one of the dozens of soldiers that would gladly practice with you without rearranging your face?'

'Don't be so dramatic. It's just a bruise. And, like I've said, I like a challenge. I've sparred with Zafe like a thousand times. I have also already sparred with Melshi. He's okay, but a bit slow. Good with vibroblades, though. We're meeting in the afternoon to practice knife throwing.'

Cassian stifled a sigh, invoking instead a mental image of Marla and Melshi bonding over vibroblades. He was hoping they would settle on conventional targets instead of, say, droids. Or at least his droid.

'Besides,' Marla interrupted his vision, 'you said you reprogrammed him. I was checking how well you did.'

'And?'

'The jury's still out.'

Cassian shook his head, his attention drawn by the loud thumping sound that suddenly filled the mess hall. He knew that sound.

'Cassian--' K2's mechanical voice filled the air, his words punctuated by the sound of his metal limbs hitting the floor.

Cassian could feel his exhaustion growing with each passing second.

'I told you to stay in my quarters. You know people aren't used to seeing Imperial droids on the base.'

'General Dodonna said he has sent out a memo. And, should that not suffice, I am perfectly capable of peacefully restraining anyone who tries to attack me.'

If droids could give a side eye, Cassian was sure Kay would be giving one to Marla now. She must have thought that, too, considering the aura of hostility she immediately began emitting.

'Yes. About that. In the future, please try to refrain from fighting with my crewmates. Or with anyone on this base,' Cassian said wearily, his gaze flickering back to Marla. 'Even if they ask for it.'

'Lieutenant Reid has explicitly requested my participation in her training session. I believe her exact words were Come on, you big bucket of bolts, hit me with all you've got.'

Cassian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was tired. So, so tired.

'I hear you. Still. Don't do that again. Even if she asks.'

'Noted. Would you like to hear my assessment of the lieutenant's combat skills?'

'No,' Cassian immediately shot back, loudly enough to cover up Marla's aggressive yes. 'Keep that to yourself. In fact, please don't go around assessing people's skills. It was hard enough as it was to convince the command not to have you turned into parts.'

'But Cassian--'

'Please don't.'

'Noted,' there was a brief pause before the droid resumed, and Cassian could swear he sensed a hint of judgement in that silence. 'Then perhaps you would like a report on the state of the Blackbird?'

'My ship is in great shape, thank you very much,' Marla barked back, and Cassian wondered how many more frozen mattberry packs they had in the kitchen.

'Cassian's ship,' K2 resumed, 'is indeed in satisfactory condition. However, I ran some diagnostics, and I have a couple of suggestions--'

'Cassian, please tell him to shut up, or so help me Maker...'

'The hyperdrive coolant system is running at eighty per cent efficiency, and I recommend replacing the damaged pipes in the engine room. Additionally, I suggest recalibrating the laser cannons to improve their--'

'Thank you, Kay,' Cassian interrupted him. 'I will review your suggestions later.'

'Good. You might also be interested to know I have discovered Lieutenant Reid's biological material in your quarters, Cassian. Would you like me to have her detained for further investigation?'

Out of the corner of his eye, Cassian saw Marla bury her entire face in the packet of frozen berries. What followed was a stifled snort coming out from beneath the compress.

'That won't be necessary, Kay. Thank you.'

'But Cassian--'

'The lieutenant and I were sparring,' he interrupted again, wondering how many more but Cassian-s he could take. 'After the last mission. In my quarters.'

'I see,' there it was, that judgemental pause again. 'In that case, I have no additional remarks. I will keep you updated should my assessment change.'

'Thank you, Kay. Can you go and wait for me in my quarters?'

'Are you going to be sparring now?' The halfway-defrosted mattberries produced a loud whimper, followed by something that could have either been a burst of laughter or a pained cry. 'I could advise you on the best strategy, given my newly-obtained knowledge of the lieutenant's fighting style.'

'That-- that won't be necessary. I find my own strategy to be rather effective.'

'Very well. But I should warn you that the lieutenant tends to use rather... unorthodox fighting techniques. Please exercise caution when engaging with her.'

'Noted.'

'What I mean is, she does not seem to be familiar with the generally agreed combat etiquette--'

'I know what you mean.' The mattberries were no longer laughing, and Cassian was mentally prepared to step in between Marla and the droid. 'Please go and wait for me in my quarters.'

'Yes, Cassian.'

Watching the droid depart, Cassian realised he suddenly felt at least ten years older. He looked over at Marla, who was slowly reemerging from behind the cover of the frozen fruit.

'Tomorrow, eighteen hundred in the hangar bay.'

'Does the scrap heap have to be coming along?'

'Yes,' he shot her an annoyed look. 'Come on. Give him a chance.'

Marla groaned dramatically, 'I'll try. No promises, though.'

'Thank you. See you tomorrow.'

'Wait. What about that sparring session?'

Cassian snorted, stopping in his tracks to look back. She was still sitting on top of the table, half of her face red, and throwing him a mischievous grin.

Maker, give me strength.

'Can't have you too sore for tomorrow's mission.'

'I can take you,' she gave him an innocent shrug, and he had to turn away to make sure he didn't spontaneously combust into flames.

'Go to sleep, Marla. See you tomorrow.'

Cassian had no idea how he found the strength to walk away, considering in his mind he was already bending her over that damn table.

The mission. There's a mission. And it requires preparation.

'See you tomorrow,' he heard a quiet chuckle behind his back and decided it was his best chance to leave.

Maker, give me strength.

A/N: I am shamelessly excited about their upcoming mission. Can't wait to throw them into some drama.

[nikeitasaraf]

What are we singing

For the longest time, I have struggled with things which I never could fathom the reason behind. It feels like everyday I wake up to a more tired version of myself, just waiting for something to go wrong. But things aren’t just going wrong out of the blue, there is a crippling fear of making mistakes, of trying new things, of not ever being enough that reflects themselves onto the things around me. If I can take the liberty to blur the peripheries of reactions and emotions, then as I grow up I am realising that people can hate you for reasons you never thought could be reasons to be hated for. By the time you start making sense of this whirlwind, tornado-like experience, half of your insecurities are already laid out on a platter for the whole world to see and most of your life is already over. It is only now that I have started to accept that it’s okay for the world to see that platter of yours and if they are going to see it anyway, the least you can do is make it beautiful, cute, pretty, sexy, wonderous and heartwarming. Make them laugh, smile, cry, think of a friend, reminisce about a lover or even find themselves. 

In the number of times I have spent crying alone, confining myself to places as small as possible, the sounds my body has made have terrified me the most, other than my unnerving thoughts and trembling hands. They have brought me closer to how I have been treating myself. When I turn to my practices of drawing and writing, I notice the intimacy my thoughts hold, the power they can sometimes have over me and how I choose to remember certain events that have happened at a very detailed scale. The same scale captures sound, the wheezes, the crying snuffles, the hiccups when you’re trying hard to hold in a desperate cry in public, the sniffles when you make it sound like you have a cold, the low mumbles when the lump in your throat refuses to leave, the whimpering of your lips when all is done and your vision is hazing, the slow gasps for breath and finally the loud wails that accelerate exhaustion until your throat dries up. 

The audacity of my own body to look, sound, feel like someone else’s, like something unfamiliar makes me feel like I want to peel it off of myself, throw it away, reach within and find myself. To discard what isn’t mine but makes me feel powerless. I realised I needed something or someone to call my own. That takes birth from within me, grows within me and creates magic. The power of your mind to imagine and fantasise is belittled so often, shrugged off as unimportant that you almost label it as stupidity. But it is just as powerful as your vulnerabilities. It is shameful, to humankind and to yourself to hide your emotions away and bottle them up for pain to be endured within. The body claims and screams for an escape, to laugh and fall on the floor, to feel what tears feel like when they’re just beginning to well up in your eyes, to taste the fresh blood oozing out of your hand, to take in the scent of another person when they’re pulling you in their arms for the very first time. It is unfair to want to tie these up as weaknesses when there is no greater strength than to say them out loud. 

It is exhausting on most days to try and fathom the reason behind these feelings and movements. Why can I not remember? Why am I so tired? More than these sensations or physical symptoms, the absolute agony of not believing and not knowing creeps up from the very insides of your gut. Eventually one starts to distance and separate themselves from their own existence in this state. I do not want to wake up with residual thoughts that were left halfway the night before only to have them continue the next morning as hungover memories. How do I engage with this? Every bone and muscle in my body seems to carry the weight of not wanting for it to return. The terrifying fear of being put into a situation that is going to disrupt the perfect balance of each thought aligned and compartmentalized and packed up in the most fragile manner in my mind. It takes preparation time to leave the house because one flick, one unexpected turn and everything will come crashing down like a domino fall. Then what does one do? 

There is a glitch in the system. Something is the cause of this momentary mess up that makes me feel like I’m looking at myself from the outside. Something that can probably be reversed? I look at myself and I see nothing special, nothing noteworthy, nothing new, just plain empty nothingness. But on days when I speak to myself, there is magic everywhere. I want to know me, let me introduce myself to this other person who dances around the room and claps sounds in my ears to get my attention, who scratches my wrists, cuts my skin and pulls me back in the middle of the road, who makes me forget I have to eat and plays reruns of the memories I want to forget, who hijacks my dreams and haunts them, who makes me check my phone in the dead of the night, scrolls never-endingly looking for meaning in meaningless words and just refuses to ever leave. 

This archive is a never ending land of stories and fantasies and half thought of scenarios and things I will probably never say to anyone out loud. But they are absolute magic. If at all anyone finds any part of themselves here, then know that you’re very very special and have moved me in ways unimaginable. It is not a very well curated archive like what people usually would sit, think over and critique but this will grow and take form in weird, scary and beautiful ways. Sit back and enjoy. Make your own fantasies, tell more stories and just listen to what others have to tell you Let this be a lullaby I sing to you, soothing you for a lifetime.