#who got so freaked out that they dipped out a third of the way through to go see wicked instead LMAO

[shellem15]

Saw Nosferatu with no background knowledge whatsoever (other than a vague rememberance of the plot of the original Dracula book). It was WILD, man. I loved it its so crazy.

The cinematography and costumes were amazing, and thank God for a movie where you can actually SEE in dark lighting.

Lily-Rose Depp was INCREDIBLE, just amazing acting and the perfect casting for a "Victorian Gothic Horror heroine".

Nicholas-Hoult was really great as well, just a sopping wet cat for most of the movie it was great.

Orlok was fucking creepy. Disturbing as hell so props to Bill Skarsgard and the prosthetics department!

William Dafoe was fantastic as always, just a guy having a great time living his monster hunting dreams

Surprisingly, I think I came out of this with Friedrich Harding as my favorite character. Purely because I think he's how most of us would react in this kind of situation. A bit misogynistic, yeah, but also just a normal fucking guy going through it lmao.

I also really liked that one romani vampire hunter guy at the beginning, purely because he has incredible vibes and great fashion sense

Just a great movie. A solid 8.5/10. Highly recommend, with a heavy content warning though. Lots of blood and gore and nudity and sexual themes/abuse themes, so if you're triggered by that stuff it's probably NOT for you.

[cipheramnesia]

Part 7: The Tower

a story by @rox-and-prose and @cipheramnesia

Dusk turned the Nevamil sky a flat aquamarine, and made visible the red lights blinking atop the Citadel. It was the tallest building in the capital city, Aureodar, even visible from the far off gridded streets of old houses converted into apartments. The last time Laika had seen it was a field trip for school.

The little blue Kirov was somewhere between the mountains and Genghis Khan and the most anonymous hopper port they'd been able to find in Aureodar. She worried about Sy, seemed ages past she'd been this physically far, though it was hardly more than weeks. Wires and talismans crossed over the streets, bikes and busses swooshed wet pavement, and linecars screeched overhead, all wrapped around her and her backpack and familiar unknown faces of the United Eastquad Block.

Ghosts gathered around her, whispering. You keep coming back here little wolf girl, you'll never get away from this place. Little wolf girl, you know you belong here. Freak. Queer. Sissy. Killer. Monster. You thought you were better than us, you never were. Laika let them needle and claw her. They were her ghosts, not the other way round. Every horrible word only built her up. Luna was with her in that way.

Most of the houses on K Street were mods, from early to late first century post-terraform. They were all retrofited from the original single family modules, but they were tough as nails, old construction built to weather thr storms of atmosphere generation. Number 1132 was where she was headed, lights were still on in the third floor windows.

Laika took a last look around on the front door's stoop. The poles for street lights and warden ropes all had at least three CCTV cameras and arrayed parabolic empathy receivers tuned into psychic conflict between morality and legality. She flashed a tight little smile at the familiar old glass eye of the state before pulling a short crowbar out of her bag and cracking the door open.

The third floor smelled of some sharp, fragrant allium along with sweet woody flavors and cooking meat, enough to rouse her stomach. Deep breath, ignore the ghosts, knock. A woman with her black hair in a bob cut, rolled up sleeves on her billowy dress, a little sweaty and confused, almost a quarter meter shorter than Laika. A wave of gaming sounds, net music, and oven warmth joined them both on the landing.

"Hey Tara," Laika said.

The other woman looked closer. "Laika? Oh tides, it is!" She wrapped Laika up in a big soft hug inside thick arms, crushing her stick body. "I thought you, I don't know, I thought you were dead! I mean, there were rumors?"

"Uff! Uh, hey. Sorry to be like, unannounced. Is it okay if I come in?" Laika hesitantly patted Tara's shoulders until the hug relaxed and her feet were back on the floor.

"You just have to, please. I'm sorry, when did you get back, why didn't you call?"

Unlacing her boots and slipping them off, she said, "I just got back today, um. I've been a bit off the net you know." She dipped her hand in the tiny basin by the door and thumbed a drop of water on the polished river stone at the altar. "But I wanted to see how you'd been, I guess. It just, well it's weird. That smells amazing."

She saw a couple kids blasting through uncreatively humanoid aliens, loudly and luridly across the living room screen, followed Tara into the kitchen and dinette area and watched her stir around sizzling veggies and meat in a wide dish. "Thanks," Tara said. "The spawn over there don't always appreciate it, but you know how... well, how kids can be..." Tara frowned awkwardly.

"Yeah, uh. Yeah." Laika rubbed the back of her neck. "So what all have you heard?"

Tara stuttered with a little embarassment. In the distance Laika could very faintly hear sirens, but she knew they weren't for her. The people who would come for her didn't use sirens or advertise their presence.

Half paying attention to Tara, she added, "Well, uh, some is true. But... you knew it was bad at home. Stuff happened. What about you though? Like, two kids? Wow!"

Tara probably was relieved at the change of topic, and Laika was glad to take a minute, but she couldn't focus all the way. She was waiting.

[thephilosopheroftheboudoir]

PAUL REUBENS WAS AN HONORARY PUNK

My earliest memory of Paul Reubens was his role in Cheech and Chong’s Nice Dreams where he played a coke dealer. Cheech and Chong give him all their money to buy some toot but Pee Wee disappears. They track him down, only to find he is a patient at a psychiatric hospital and they have to wander through a crowd of lunatics only to find that he is mentally too far gone to tell them what he did with their money. If you watch any DVD’s of this movie that were made after 1988, you will notice this scene has been permanently deleted.

So a few later, I was getting involved with the small but growing hardcore punk scene in my city. Pee Wee’s Big Adventure was released in the theaters around then. It was an instant success and I went to see it three times. By the second and third viewing I started to recognize that more and more audience members were people I knew from the punk scene.

Many of us in the counter-culture loved Pee Wee. For one thing, many of us rode bicycles. It was our second favorite form of transportation behind skateboards since most people we knew couldn’t afford cars back then. City buses were still the primary method of movement in a dark city where wind, rain, and snow were the norm. But when the sun came out, we rode around in packs on our bikes. Any time there was a show, you could see them chained up by the dozens somewhere near the venue. They were our vehicles out of our world. We rode them in the moonlit cemeteries. They were safer than public transport when we went off to buy drugs. Sometimes we rode out to the suburbs to go pool hopping; that meant skinny-dipping, uninvited of course, in people’s back yards while they slept comfortably in their beds. That stunt ended one night when some guy fired a shotgun at us from his bedroom window.

Being the city kids that we were, we got used to our bicycles disappearing. It was always the same. No matter what kind of lock we used, somebody from the deep inner city used their ingenuity to find some way to pick the lock or cut the chain and they always left a beat up old bike in its place, the kind of rickety thing that looked like it had been stripped of all its parts, beat down and battered to the point where some kid knew if he didn’t ride it one last time out to the edge of the city to steal a better one, he would be bikeless for a long time to come.

When Pee Wee Herman’s bike got stolen, it resonated with us punks like nothing else ever could.

Pee Wee was one of us. It wasn’t just that his bicycle got pinched in Pee Wee’s big Adventure, he was also an inherently subversive character. He lived in some nether-world where he was not quite a child but not quite a man. His friends were all unapologetically freaks and weirdos, some of which were of other races and some of which even had mohawks. When his bike got stolen, he lost his soul. It was a hero’s journey through the underworld of America, the story of a man who knew when he found that one missing piece all the magic would return to his life. Punks were often people who felt that same absence, When we spiked our hair, ripped out clothes, donned combat boots or Chuck Taylors, drove pins through our noses, and sliced up our arms with razors, we were embarking on our own journey through the underbelly of the world, one that involved drugs, alcohol, slam dancing, record collecting, and sex between cars in restaurant parking lots. If you ever wonder why your car door handle is sticky, I can tell you there is a sickly humorous reason for that. Sometimes we spent nights in jail and had fist fights on street corners with conservatives who didn’t approve of our way of living free in a supposedly free society. If you think the MAGA crowd is anything new, you are wrong; these Republican maggots started crawling out of the rotten woodwork all the way back in the 1980s. But our bikes were like magic carpets that, at times, could transport us to some place better.

It gets deeper than a stolen bike though. As punks we called ourselves anarchists. However wrongheaded and naive that might have been, it’s what we thought we were and we hated the establishment. Pee Wee’s bike was stolen by Francis, a perfect symbol of capitalist greed. Francis was an immature, trust-fund baby and a bully who could use his dorky father’s money to get anything he wanted. What he wanted was Pee Wee’s bike so he payed some 1950s rocker with a greasy DA and a pack of cigarettes rolled up in the short sleeve of his undershirt to steal it. In the end, Francis didn’t really want the bike. What he really wanted was for Pee Wee NOT to have the bike. See, the bicycle is the one thing that made Pee Wee Herman happy and happiness was what Francis coul not have because, true to the nature of a capitalist pig, he always wants more than what he has. He dealt with his misery by making others miserable and so the bike got stolen and sent away. Pee Wee’s jounrey to find it began there. If there ever was a prototype of Rush Limbaugh, Francis was it. This movie came out four years into the Reagan administration so it doesn’t surprise me that it sticks a finger in the eye of Republican party economics. Seeing Francis get his come-uppance made us cream in our jeans.

Along the way to Hollywood via the Alamo, Pee Wee Herman made friends with a whole cast of characters and all of them were outsiders. He hitched a ride with an escaped convict, for instance, and together they outsmarted the police. ACAB. He shared an intimate moment with a waitress who dreamed of escaping from her marriage to a redneck and flying off to Paris the way Dorothy dreams about some where over the rainbow in the colorful land of Oz. (Try watching Pee Wee’s Big Adventure and The Wizard of Oz back to back and notice all the parallels). Pee Wee also got inducted into an outlaw motorcycle club.

Pee Wee even makes friends with a homeless man while train hopping, something us punks could relate to as well. We liked hanging out with the bums in our city. One of them used to shoplift porn magazines and sell them to us at discount prices so he could buy bottles of Thunderbird or Mad Dog. That’s the kind of $3 rotgut that will fuck you up even worse than a 40 oz. malt liquor. While no two bottles of Mad Dog ever taste the same, the flavor approximates some unholy combination of cough syrup, vomit, and rubbing alcohol. Some say that at higher quantities of consumption it can even be hallucinogenic. And then there was also an African-American guy with blue eyes named Ulysses; we used to drink Bully Hill with him in the alleyways and he was one of the most kind-hearted and humorous men we’ve ever met. We’d buy him food just to hear the stories he’d tell. Then one day I saw him well-dressed and selling newspapers on a street corner. The headlines said something about UFO’s coming to save Black people from white America. Ulysses had joined the Nation of Islam. Oh well, at least he is now sober and off the streets. I wish you the best, Ulysses.

And punks always loved animals. We loved our dogs. We loved our cats. Some of us kept rats, iguanas, and snakes as pets. So speaking of snakes, what did Pee Wee do when he saw the pet shop burning? He rescued all the animals and in the end he even rescued the snakes even though he obviously didn’t like them. Punks were the snakes of American society and Pee Wee was on our side.

Finally, what could be more punk than sticking your middle finger in the face of the Hollywood establishment? Pee Wee’s bike ends up as a prop in a Hollywood movie. He snatched it and rode away, wrecking movie sets as he went. Instead of arresting him, they decide to make a movie based on his life. But look at the movie they made. It is a pretentious, no-brain blockbuster with perfect looking actors that bear no resemblance to the real life events that inspired it. The movie uses postmodern framing by using the medium to critique the fake and shallow medium of the Hollywood film industry.

Then there is one final question. Who was Pee Wee’s family? Did he have any parents? How old was he anyways? Punks were part of the latchkey kid generation. We either grew up in a one-parent home or else both our parents were absent from our lives because it took two working adults to support a family with children. As teenagers we ran free and encountered the adult world at a very early age. Pee Wee Herman appeared to have no role models in his life and had to find his own way around. That was what hardcore punk was all about. We couldn’t fix the world’s problems so we created our own scene and did things our own way. FTW (fuck the world). If you didn’t like us you had best stay away.

Pee Wee’s Big Adventure become one of those movies you can watch over and over again without getting bored, making frequent appearances at cult classic film festivals, revival theaters, and occasional TV reruns. There were many times we watched it through the bleary haze of bong smoke and blurred whisky vision, maybe while coming down from an acid trip or two or three. It is like an old familiar friend that is always happy to see you for the sake of sharing old memories and telling half-forgotten jokes.

Pee Wee Herman’s next move as an honorary punk came in the late 1980s when his television show Pee Wee’s Playhouse went on the air. The Residents played the theme song. How cool was that for underground music fans? Although it was meant for kids, some of the jokes were a little bit naughty. Pee Wee and the genie’s head in a box sang a song about hiney-holes and a female dancer lifted one leg in the air while standing on the toes of her other foot and Pee Wee took a peak up her skirt, only to be given a reprimanding look from the dancer when she saw what he was up to.

A couple years later the big bombshell hit the news. Paul Reubens had been caught masturbating in an adult movie theater in Florida. My immediate reaction was not, “Oh my god, what a pervert.” Actually I was just shocked that they still had adult movie theaters in Florida while they had gone the way of the dodo bird everywhere else. Hadn’t people there ever heard of VCR’s? Florida must be a pretty fucked up place, I thought. I still think so to this day. The fact that Pee Wee played with himself in the porno playhouse never really phased me though I still wonder why it is a crime to whip it out while in a darkened theater, watching movies of people fucking. America sure does have some stupid laws. Don’t even get me going on the legality of drinking alcohol like how dumb it is to make the drinking age 21 thanks to that asshole Ronald Reagan or why we are obsessed with hating drunk driving while so few bars are within walking distance of people’s homes. Europeans sorted these kinds of things out centuries ago. It is like the government wants us to get caught screwing up. Rich capitalist pigs like Francis are getting their miserable way at our expense.

Soon after the arrest of Paul Reubens, I went to a punk show at a bar. The singer of the band called out, “I don’t know how many of you heard, but Pee Wee Herman got arrested for jerking off in a porn theater. How many of you hate him more know that you know this?” About half the audience cheered. Then he asked “How many of you love him more now?” Again, about half the audience cheered. Oh yeah, we loved him even more because his mugshot made him look like a Hells Angel. The biggest audible difference between the first and second cheers was that the former was mostly women and the latter was mostly men. By 1991, the mean-girl Andrea Dworkin style of anti-porn feminism had infected the punk scene like an STD. If you think polarization in America is a Trump-era phenomenon, guess again. It just seems that way because internet pundits and the media keep drawing our attention to it even though the hate has always been there.

Just a few years ago, I heard an interview with Paul Reubens on NPR. They asked the question of what message he wanted to send to the world. His answer, and I paraphrase, was “It’s OK to be different. You don’t have to be like everybody else.” It’s so simple, so true, and so sad that so few people understand what this means. And it's so "punk-is-an-attitude" up your fucking ass.

Good bye Paul Reubens and thank you for the memories. Thank you for the wisdom you shared. Thank you for being an inspiration, an idol and an icon for those of us who follow Jimi Hendrix’s advice and wave our freak flags high. You are forever an honorary member of the hardcore punk community.

[rebelliousstories]

Something Darker On Your Mind

Kiss Me You Animal

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Zylia “The Freak” Shelley

Fandom: Fallout

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Strong Language, Brief Violence, Creepy Men

Word Count: 1,426

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Previous Chapter//Next Chapter

Kiss Me You Animal Masterlist: Here

Summary: Cooper would argue that he does not have a soft side anymore. And even if you see him helping Zylia in a time of need, no you did not.

It took two days for a new bounty to come into there radar. Two days of wandering the Wasteland in search of one. But once one did come about, you just know that they were going to cash in. After getting the information from the bounty, they set out to collect. It took another three days before they were able to do so. Apparently, this particular bounty did not want to be found. With Cooper’s tracking abilities, and Zylia’s speed, the bounty was caught shortly after noon on the third day.

“Alrigh’, let’s get back to town. I want to be done with this shit. Let’s go.” A tug on a rope and the man was pulled wherever The Ghoul deemed. Zylia followed close behind with her blade already drawn and ready, just in case this bounty got a stupid idea. They walked in silence for a long while, only half a day’s journey away from the nearest town that would take in and cash the bounty.

“What’s the bounty up to? I’ll pay double if you just let me go now. Please.” The man begged, only to be rewarded with another tug from the rope around his neck and hands. In the time that it took Zylia to blink, their bounty had taken the rope off of his neck and bolted out away from them.

“Gotta be shittin’ me.” Cooper groaned, already taking off to go after him. Zylia followed shortly after and caught up to the man much faster than her counterpart. Her knife was tossed towards him, lodging in his arm with a scream of pain. He fell to the ground, which allowed Shelley to capture him with her own stretch of rope. She yanked the blade out of his arm, which caused him to scream more, and she straddled his waist. Pressing the edge of her knife against his throat, she leaned in really close and sneered.

“Where the hell do you think you’re goin’? Huh?” Wrapping the rope around his hands, Zylia wished that she had seen his head dip down sooner. She groan and gritted her teeth as the man bit down on her; hard.

“Son of a bitch!” Her exclamation was followed by Cooper placing a boot to the man’s face just as hard as he had bitten the woman. Their bounty was knocked out cold before Howard helped Shelley back up.

“What happened?” He asked, inspecting her arm. Blood pricked a few spots of the bite mark through her shirt. Just enough that she would need to bandage it up, but not enough to cause serious damage.

“That’s a mighty fine mark you got there. Let’s get him to town and get you a bandage for that. Can’t have you dyin’ on me now that I just got you to collect bounties.” Cooper began to maneuver the man below them so that he could tie him up with no problem. He tied the man up in a way that allowed him to drag the man with ease. Giving half the rope to Zylia, they set out on their destination once more; this time dragging their bounty across the Wasteland.

Pulling up to town, they got more stares than usual from the people residing there for the time being. Normally, it was just because of their appearance that they received unwanted attention. But seeing two mutants dragging a man into town was not an everyday occurrence, even for a world this strange. A reputable shopkeeper that they had taken bounties from before let them inside when he saw just who they were dragging.

Because of how fast they were able to find the man compared to others, their pay was doubled. Which meant that the amount for one person for this bounty now resided in their cap pouches. Bidding the man farewell, the duo left the shop and scanned the marketplace. There were not a lot of shops here compared to bigger towns, but there was at least a doctor’s office. Making their way over there, Zylia entered first and saddled up to the counter.

“How can I help you, little miss?” The doctor leered. It never ceased to amaze her that this was the other popular response to seeing her by most people.

“Bandages, and a stim pack.” She grabbed her cap pouch and set it on the counter to get them out, when the man’s hand covered hers.

“Now, now, I think we may be able to work something else out if you don’t want to use your caps. Maybe you could use something else.” His hand trailed up her arm slowly, when it was suddenly yanked off followed by the sound of a gun clicking on.

“She ain’t for sale. Bandages and stim packs now.” Cooper’s gruff voice interjected. Zylia was frozen for the moment, and she hated it. All she wanted was to get out of there but her body would not listen to her. She knew that she would be safe so long as Cooper was next to her. But while her brain knew that, the rational side at least, the emotional side could not listen. In her ears, she could hear her own blood rushing and roaring loudly through the vessels.

“Take the damn caps and don’t look at her again.” Cooper growled, grabbing the supplies off of the counter. He flung the payment at the man who had to crouch down to get it off of the floor. By the time he stood up, the duo was gone. The Ghoul was dragging The Freak all through the marketplace and into a secluded area where she could sit. That haunted look in her eyes, the silence, the near catatonic state was starting to freak him out.

In the time that he had known her, she had never been silent like this. This was different than a comfortable silence they found themselves in when they walked. This was fear; plain and simple. Sitting her down on a crate that had definitely seen better days, Cooper tried to get Zylia to refocus on him, but she was gone from their world.

“Zylia. Hey, sweetheart. You gotta look at me.” If someone did not know any better, he would have thought that Cooper was begging. But he would sooner kill someone than let them even think that. When she did not respond to verbal stimulation, he whispered a silent apology.

“Don’t hate me too much for this.” He was certain that she would not remember that, but he still felt the need to say it. Raising his hand up, Cooper sent it flying across her cheek with a loud thwack! That seemed to knock Zylia back into reality, as she looked around in a panic for a minute before realizing that Cooper was in front of her.

“Did you slap me?” Zylia inquired, rubbing her reddening cheek softly.

“You weren’t in the land of the livin’ for a while. Desperate times and whatnot.” He brushed it off. Opening up the package of bandages, Cooper made sure to hit her with a stim pack first. They did not know if that man carried a disease or infection in his bite. Afterwards, he gently wrapped the bandage around her arm to soak up any blood that she was still expelling.

“He- he reminded me of them.” She whispered softly. Her haunted eyes were back, but more present this time. Cooper sat back on his heels and just waited for the explanation coming.

“Some of those scientists that held me. They wanted to see if I could still bear children. Never got that far as apparently some of the doctors still had morals but, I’ll never forget those hands.” Her shiver shook her entire body despite the heat.

“Ain’t never goin’ back to those assholes. Remember that.” As much as Cooper wanted to, he held himself back from reassuring her that he would not allow them to take her back. Zylia nodded and looked around, before landing on her bag. Opening it up, she grabbed the little jar of blood from a few days ago, and took a sip. Once she did, Shelley felt much better and went to go stand up. Cooper followed her up, and ket a close eye on her.

“Come on, cowpoke. Gotta go find us some shelter before moving on to the next town.” She tried to act like nothing had happened, but both of them had racing thoughts. Specifically, about how tender Cooper was treating Zylia after the incident at the doctor’s office.

[getstickbugdlol]

a summary of the Not Breaking Up saga

bf was supposed to move in with me at the end of this month, this has been the plan for a long time and it was his idea and we've been working towards it for like probably a year and a half at this point. we got a cat together last october with the anticipation he'd move in in august

he graduated law school last year and recently had to take the bar for the third time, he's come very close to passing each time but hasn't quite gotten there and he said this is the final time he'll take it. his postdoc job finishes next wednesday and he has struggled to apply for jobs in the meantime, bc his mom is a Girlboss who does everything for him and he got rejected from a job and freaked out

i was visiting friends in arizona last week and bf was catsitting. the cat we adopted is FIV+/special needs plus he has a food obsession so he has a specialty diet and schedule, he needs supplements. before i left arizona i asked bf to get more dry food and he said he would. i reminded him when i was in arizona and he said he would. i was like ok i'm going to leave it at that. mind you i was gone for over a week, so a weekend passed while i was gone. i came home straight off a redeye flight and had to go to urgent care because i have some sort of UTI/bladder infection, and i got home to find that not only had he STILL not gotten the dry food (although i knew for a fact all he did on one of the days he was here was play video games), the litter boxes hadn't been cleaned for several days, hobgoblin hadn't gotten his supplements, nobody had been given their flea/tick meds or hairball meds, there was extra trash piled up, he had not done the dishes he'd used, my garbage and recyling were full of empty alcohol containers, and all my toilet paper was gone. i called him pretty upset about that and he doubled down he didn't do anything wrong and all of a sudden goes "i don't think it's a good idea for us to move in together" and i was like wtf you know i love you and i want to make this work. i went over to his house tuesday night and he said he had concerns about our long term compatibility and i was so caught off guard because we already had this fight last year about staying in nyc vs going and i thought we got through it. he said it's difficult for him to communicate but he was afraid moving in together would lead us to resent each other and he wasn't sure about it. i left in obvious tears and got so angry because i was like oh my god, you're the one who has had your foot on the commitment gas pedal this whole time, to dip now is sooooo shitty and hurtful. i was like you know we don't have to live together, and we haven't lived together so we don't know that's going to happen and he said he was afraid every time the apartment got messy he'd get blamed...i went home in tears and freaked out and posted everywhere and called him and said i have been so brave in this relationship, and i think you are being terrible and cowardly right now. he was supposed to cat sit again next week but i called my mom in so he could come get his stuff from her instead of me.

at emergency therapy the next day my therapist was like woah this is very fast to go straight to break up, get your mom in here (who does not have great boundaries about my relationships), come get your stuff. this is a big decision, and considering both of us are autistic, it makes sense we might have communication breakdowns sometimes, but he might need a little more time to process things. why go straight to break up, it's going to be painful either way. and i was like damn it sonia i hate it when you're right but i called him and basically said i love you and i don't want to break up but i don't want to pressure you to be in a relationship you don't want to be in. but i'm sorry i was cruel and if you need some time to think then take it. he said he loves me too and he was still processing but we'd talk the following night.

so yesterday in the morning he told me he woke up really clear headad and wanted to talk after work and last night we talked and he said that me calling him a coward made him think, and he is really scared about the future and lashed out at me and pinned his worries on our relationship because he was feeling pressure about moving in, but he loves me so much and these have been the happiest three years of his life and he'd be so stupid to let it go over fear. i was like dude i am scared every single day of my life! the future changes ALL THE TIME, but we have to decide we want to be together and be scared together. he stood by me in MY time of crisis, and it's my turn now and it's ok to need me, and to tell me he's scared and to ask for help and if he needs time, then that's ok, we don't need to go through everything right away. he said he knows that and he appreciates it, he's never had to be the brave one before and he's freaking out. i know exactly where he is right now emotionally because i was there one year ago, and we can do this together. so we Set the Intention to work on things. i said the cats ARE a problem, they HAVE to be taken care of properly and we will talk about it, and we will see a couples counselor and cool it on moving in for a bit, and he needs to figure the communication out because i can't do this again. it's natural to lash out at the people closest to you, but i can't have my heart and future just be collateral damage. but for right now let's just remember that we have something really special, and that we like each other and we have fun together. so tonight i'm going over to his house again and we will have a loooooong conversation about where to go from here.

my body is still in a lot of shock and pain, but my boss was really understanding, and so many people rallied around me in support. also like 5 separate people were like "nah this is a fight not a breakup" so clown hours for me. i'm definitely still tender, but i think this is the best possible outcome. bf and i have a really wonderful relationship with a lot of mutual respect and genuine enjoyment. i feel very freed and uplifted by it about 98% of the time until fights like this happen so i hope that he is able to work on this. he seems committed but saying it and doing it are two different things. i'm just deciding to trust him on it

[danderoisen]

➽ lux et veritas! welcome to yale, ( DANIEL ‘DANNY’ PARK ). you’re a ( STUDENT ), aren’t you? your form says you’re ( TWENTY-THREE ), go by ( HE/HIM ), and excel in ( ANTHROPOLOGY ). but looking back at your college essay, i’d describe you as ( GETTING CAUGHT DAYDREAMING OF ADVENTURE DURING CLASSES; CRUSHED ENERGY DRINK AND BEER CANS IN OVERFLOWING TRASH CAN; LAUGHING AT 2AM UNTIL YOUR STOMACH HURTS ). keep out of the shadows!  [fc: jeon jungkook]

danny park, just your average twenty-three year old friendly neighborhood spiderman nobody. a kid who you spot at the grocery store, trailing after his extremely loud but good-natured korean mother, sullenly adding things into the cart as she shouts them out. a kid who you might have known in high school for making that one winning shot for the basketball team, but then missing every game afterwards because he broke his ankle skateboarding. a kid who just left for yale university, way over his head amongst all the wealthy, well-educated elite students who made it here based on their own merits, not their uncanny ability to somehow manipulate elements (completely by accident, most times). danny shuffles behind the crowd in his baggy t-shirts and black cargo pants, wishing he could erase smell of despair and impending student debt.

his story? well, it began when his parents immigrated from south korea to los angeles, full of big dreams and empty pockets. his father was a bellman at a luxury hotel near koreatown, and his broken english was no hinderance when his enthusiasm took center stage. he guided those tourists to the best routes, found them discount tickets, booked them taxis to grand restaurants, showed them all the facets of LA his little family could never afford. his mom found work in a korean restaurant, and that’s where danny remembers most of his childhood, kicking the back of his brother’s seat as he ignored homework in favor of stealing slices of meat from the kitchen.

his, um, talents developed sometime around his tenth birthday, when the pool party he was hosting turned into some sort of tsunami. a neighborhood kid had been picking on him, making fun of the banchan his mom had set out beside the chips and dip, threatening to push him in the pool. danny’s anger exploded, and somehow the pool did too, the water churning dangerously and wiping out the lawn chairs with enormous waves. the kid got knocked into the pool, and the fear in danny’s gut had somehow ended the waves. the kid was okay, and ran from danny for months.  

( danny spent the next year thinking he’d get a hogwarts letter. it never came. ) 

after that fateful day, danny felt like he couldn’t escape his newfound powers. they came unexpectedly - one day, he’d forgotten to start the oven for his mom, and terrified of getting yelled at, he pleaded with the oven to heat up quickly. it shot to 500 degrees in a minute, and danny almost burned his hand checking. or the time he was hiking with friends in high school and rocks slid down the side of the mountain, almost knocking them off the ledge, until danny’s fear became so overwhelming that the rocks bounced over the small group, as if they were under a bowl of air. 

there was no rhyme or reason, and it happened so infrequently that danny could uneasily write it off as coincidence. until his third year at community college, when he decided to join the soccer team - and the wind would shift every time he got near the goal, sending the ball soaring through the air straight into the corner of the goal. everyone lauded him as the next big thing, and reps from universities came to watch him play. it felt ridiculous, danny knew he was mediocre at best at sports, but this? out of nowhere, he made every single goal? this was insane. 

and then one day, he was visited by a representative, and took an exam that made absolutely no sense, and two weeks later he got an offer for a full ride to freaking yale university. he was twenty-three, only one year from finishing an associates degree and maybe finding an admin job somewhere, and now yale wanted him to attend their prestigious school, sit next to prestigious future lawyers and businessmen and senators? and play soccer, but that part didn’t really matter - it was almost like an afterthought. 

his parents were thrilled (if not bemused), and danny couldn’t really decline such an incredible offer. they also said he could choose any major, so he went with his imagination and chose anthropology. all those Indiana Jones movies he binged as a kid endlessly were finally making good use. so he packed his bags that summer and moved into the dorms two weeks before the semester started - only to be met by the Admissions Director, Madeline Gaines, and told that he had magical abilities and would need to protect the country from a portal to hell. 

so it’s been a weird two weeks, to say the least. his emotions are all over the place - at one moment, he’s happy he’s not alone in his magical abilities, but then he’s also scared shitless as the prospect of learning to control it, and then intimidated by all the other members who somehow have their shit together and understand their magic. and yale is enormous, and he gets lost ALL THE TIME. 

he’s glad he’s got his roommate (WANTED CONNECTION) to help him along the way. 

personality wise, danny is just a goddamn sweetie pie, head filled with more fluff and laughter than actual serious thought. he enjoys being a watcher rather than a participant in activities, and when you think he’s just in the corner dozing off or glancing into space, he’s usually taking in everything and storing it away for later. but you can trust him (unless he’s one too many drinks down, and then you can never know what’ll come out of his mouth).

[highly-opinionated-art]

Third batch of album of the week art for 2024! Been listening to some really, really good music lately

(2024 part 1 )(2024 part 2) (2024 part 4)

Lyrics, albums, and commentary:

Week 27: "Run, run, with the fury of a saint in your eyes", from the song Highway Unicorn, from the album Born This Way by Lady Gaga. The gel pens didn't work out for me the way I wanted with this one... believe it or not, this is Speed Racer fanart

Week 28: "You gotta celebrate once in a while", from the song Carnival of Souls, from the album The Surrealistic Roadhouse by Northern Gloom. Yes, it's Homestuck. I'm friends with the guy who does all the sound mixing for this band- they're local to my state and just starting out so I figured I'd give them some views. Their music is decidedly not my thing, but if you like cosmic post punk, consider giving them a listen!

Week 29: "Here's to another better year", from the song NJ Legion Iced Tea, from the album Homesick by A Day To Remember. I like that song a Lot, good album even though it's a little screamier than I usually listen to.

Week 30: "Dors, le mal est passe, il te rattrapera pas", from the song Fondu au Noir, from Coeur de Pirate's self-titled album. Translates to 'sleep, the worst is over, it can't get you'. I listen to lots of non English music pretty regularly, but the French music scene (French Canadian, in this case) is something I've been wanting to get further acquainted with, and this album was soooo fun and cute and I loved it. Worth noting that between week 29 and 30's illustrations, I got hired for a new full time job after a few months of searching and freaking the fuck out about money, haha

Week 31: "Anxiety, suppress it if you can", from the song Anxiety, from the album No Control by Bad Religion. I like how this one turned out, it looks like the song sounds to me. Every track on that album is so fast that all of them are like 2 minutes long max!

Week 32: "In your skin, in your hair, I'm tangled up. In my head, in my mind, I can't get out. When you twist and you turn, teach me to run. I grab and hold on, I grab and hold on tight", from the song Hold On, from the album Come Out. You're Hiding by Flor. LOVED this album, especially this song!!!

Week 33: "You never know what you will get, you never know what you'll forget" from the song She Walks On Me, from the album Live Through This by Hole. By contrast, I HATED this whole album. All I can think about is that New Radicals song where he calls Courtney Love a poser, because. Yeah, that's the vibe I got from it, too.

Week 34: "Midnight is where the day begins", from the song New City, from the album This Too Shall Pass by The Fold. Yes, the band that did the Ninjago theme song- very glad to have dipped into some of their other music, I liked it

Week 35: "I will survive", from the song Touch of Gray, from the album In The Dark by Grateful Dead. I've been sorta aware of Grateful Dead's existence for a while, but this was my first time doing a dedicated listening of any of their music- It's a Vibe, honestly, recommend

Week 36: "Everything almost fits together right. But in the end, I don't belong inside a normal life", from the song A Normal Life, from the album Haven by Marianas Trench. I'm a huge fan of this band and this was a new release. The album is GREAT- I'm seeing them live on Monday, as well, I'm so excited! Acrylic paint continues to frustrate me, though

Week 37: "The moon upon the ocean is swept around in motion, but without ever knowing the reason for its flowing. In motion on the ocean the moon still keeps on moving. The waves still keep on waving and I still keep on going", from the song Anywhere Is, from the album The Memory of Trees by Enya. I LOVE ENYA. I have always loved Enya. This was a treat for myself, I love Enya.

Week 38: "Fire", from the song (you guessed it) Fire, from the album Paragon by Floor Jansen. This one was recommended to me by my dad- I really like and respect the musicality of it, but a lot of the lyrics were kinda unexciting to me. Not totally unexpected considering English is her second language, I believe? Overall I give this one like 3/5

Week 39: "The baffled king composing Hallelujah", from the song Hallelujah, from the album Various Positions by Leonard Cohen. Cohen's lazy diction and grating voice aren't my favorite, but man oh man does that man write good songs. Very glad to have spent a week with this one, for sure.

[futuresconnected]

Like A Dragon Quest Continues: Yakuza 3, Path of Exile, Escape From Tarkov

Hello gamers, I'm back with another weekly wrap up! Busy couple weeks for me, messing around with a few different things.

The big one is that Like A Dragon Quest continues apace. This is how im gonna refer to my plans to play through the Yakuza series, since that is how the series is named in Japan and going forward outside Japan as well, and I think its a good pun on the title and Dragon Quest, the games that the recent RPG forays of the series are taking direct inspiration from.

To that end, this week I played through pretty much all of Yakuza 3. This game sees Kiryu leaving Kamurocho behind to start and run an orphanage in Okinawa where he hopes to live a peaceful life away from trouble. As you may expect, this does not go well. He gets a good two years of being a dad to Haruka and the others before some mess with the Tojo clan forces him back into action. Overall I really liked the game, I think that the story is really good, a ton of great characters to bounce around and some good side stories, plus the combat was pretty enjoyable for being the oldest one of these games that I am going to play. I think where the game really shines is in the surprisingly large amount of time the game spends on Kiryu just doing dad stuff: helping make dinner, going shopping, helping the orphans settle disputes and doing a lot of parenting along the way. It's bittersweet to see all of this in the game however, knowing that the series continues for long after this and Kiryu doesn't quite get the peace he deserves. Definitely one of the better games in this series that I've played.

I also played through Yakuza 4 in the time since my last blog post, and my thoughts on that one are a bit less positive. This game sees the player take control of four different characters (including Kiryu) over the course of the game, and while I generally like all the characters well enough and enjoyed how they played, I felt like giving each character a whole bunch of ways to spend time and upgrade their abilities was a bit annoying once I realized I was only going to be playing as them for 6 or so hours a piece. I also didn't care as much for the overarching plot in this one, it was nice to see how the ripples of the previous games' events impacted other people, but I felt that over time the conspiracy plot and who was backstabbing who got more silly than anything else, especially coming off the heels of the third game, which had a stronger emotional core and more interesting plot twists overall. Probably the worst one of these that I've yet played, but it was only about 30 hours and was still prettty decent.

I dabbled a little with Escape from Tarkov, a big new patch for the shooter came out recently and I wanted to dip my toe in and see how I felt. The game is very fun, but is definitely the kind of game you would want to play seriously for a few weeks, and right now I've got other things distracting my attention, mainly a rekindled love affair with Path of Exile.

Path of Exile is, simply put, a game for freaks. And I have been a freak for over 1000 hours in that game easily. But its not often you get to witness someone else turn into that kind of freak as well! A few weeks ago my friend Wes told me that he had been tasked by another friend (due to them winning a fantasy football league) that he had to play through at least act 5 of PoE (halfway through the base game, maybe a 10th of the whole experience) and I took it upon myself to be his guide through the crazy experience that is path of exile.

If you're not familiar, this is a game in the genre of Diablo Style Action RPGs, and over the ten years that I have been playing PoE it has developed (devolved?) into a game where your player characters zip across the screen at incredible speeds mowing down hundreds of monsters and producing enough calculations and particle effects to humble even the strongest of computers. Again, this is a game for freaks. From the start, I taught Wes how to play the game like I play it, with an eye towards the end and no time to think too hard about the first half of the game. Hour by hour, I taught him about gem links, movement skills, third-party build planning tools, currency, trading, the whole 9 yards. And the most gratifying experience has been hearing him slowly turn into a true-blooded PoE sicko, cackling as he jumps around the screen blowing up everything in his path. Being on this journey with him all the way to the endgame maps has been so much fun, and honestly reminded me of my own love for the game. I am so excited to be able to play more of this game in the future, I've got the bug for it again.

That's all for this update, thanks for sticking with me, and I'll see you next week as Like A Dragon Quest continues with Yakuza 5!

[kisskissbanggang]

Reckless pt. 2

[Chan x product model!Reader - 3k Words, ~10min. Read, Idol!au, Suggestive/Mentions of Smut, Questionable Power Dynamics, Casual Dating, FWB, Misguided Bets]

“... You must really be tired. Did you hear me?”

Chan’s hand brushed your shoulder in an exhausted inkling of concern. You glanced at him with a tepid nod. The two of you were seated at a small table in the kitchen of the dorm. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for you to become less of a strange presence. Chan was half-risen out of his chair, only waiting for you to respond.

“Sorry, what did you say?” you eventually asked.

“I asked if you wanted some coffee?”

You half-heartedly nodded again. “Oh, yeah, sure. Yeah, I guess I'm really tired.”

No, you weren't. But you didn't want to tell Chan that he was currently interrupting you gorging yourself on the sight of Changbin fixing himself an iced Americano across the kitchen.

“You like cream and sugar, right?” Chan asked you, seemingly from a million miles away.

Holy shit, you marveled, how is Changbin so toned?

You absently wrapped a hand around the coffee Chan set next to you, along with his own mug.

“I was thinking of a polo today,” Chan prattled on, “but I don't know if I want to do long sleeve or short sleeve.”

Seriously, how much can he lift?

You tasted the coffee and almost choked. Too sweet, but you never specified in the first place.

Like, could he lift me?

“I think the long sleeves are comfier but the short sleeves are – Hey! That’s my coffee.”

“Oh, sorry,” you sighed.

Changbin turned to look at you over his shoulder. “Would you like an Americano while I'm still over here, noona?”

Ugh and he’s so nice.

“Oh, Changbin,” you gushed, “that’s so kind. I’d love one.”

Surely, Chan understood. You checked the timer on your phone and got up yourself, striding across the kitchen to the refrigerator. The spoon you’d placed in the freezer almost half an hour ago was finally cold all the way through. You’d even dipped it in water to hopefully get it good and chilled. Changbin raised an eyebrow at you, silently letting you know your drink was ready and you took a sip. The reaction was foolish, truly, but you nearly crumbled on the spot.

“Awh, Binnie,” you cooed, “it’s perfect. You’re so nice to me.”

Changbin’s lips spread into a cryptic half-smile before you hooked a finger into Chan’s shirt and dragged him back into his room.

This was maybe the third? Fourth? This was most likely the third time you’d been to Chan’s. It was typically the same routine every time, because his room was conveniently empty each time you arrived... until last night. The door wasn’t locked – none of the doors had locks – but it was clearly occupied. So you improvised. It took shamefully little to convince Chan that you only wanted to snuggle on the couch at 2AM, but he also wasn't surprised when it turned into more, which was when your normal routine resumed. And he was disgustingly good at this song and dance. He would undress you, then himself, and then manage to surprise you every single time while you fucked on the floor because it was far quieter that way. He was infuriatingly good in bed (floor), even though he’d never let you under the blankets to cuddle (platonically) until after you both had finished.

But this time you surprised him. It was one love bite, one little hickey, right on his ribs where no stylist would even worry, but he nonetheless freaked out when he finally came to his senses afterwards.

“Quit squirming,” you quietly admonished Chan, back in the present, who was now desperately clutching your arm to keep from wiggling while you pressed the cold spoon against his skin.

“It’s a literal frozen piece of metal on a ticklish spot,” he laughed despite his whining.

You were usually long gone by now, maybe enjoying a pastry on your way back to your apartment, but the poor guy was clearly bothered by the hickey, so it only made sense that you offer to help. Honestly, you even felt bad. It was a heat-of-the-moment type deal, but more consent never hurt a mood. Then again, you still couldn’t help but notice there was never a good reason to get this bent out of shape over a hickey no one would see.

“How’s it looking?” Chan asked.

“Fine,” you shrugged, “but the spoon is already getting back to room temperature.”

“Does it need to be a spoon?” he pondered. “We have ice packs in the freezer, in the door.”

“That’ll do just fine,” you assured him. “Be right back.”

You playfully whacked Chan right on the thigh with the utensil, a peek of his pale skin taunting you from under his comfy shorts, but you didn’t expect him to snatch your hand so he could pinch the sensitive spot on your waist in retaliation. A pitiful squeak escaped you, and you wheeled around, ready to fight him off. Before you could, though, Chan already wrapped his arms around your middle so he could easily toss you onto the bed beside him. He squealed out a curse as you kicked him off, but he settled the moment you sat him back down and kissed his forehead before you jogged back out to the hallway.

Playing with Chan came as easy as fooling around with him, but you reminded yourself that this was clearly a great friendship you had going on and nothing more. Just like you agreed, you did not pay for each other when you met up, and you only swapped texts, mutually deciding it was better than calling. Every once in a while, you might get a photo from Chan. Usually to get your opinion on an outfit, but sometimes he sent you little things that reminded him of you. A nice sweater, a piece of art in a lobby. And even though this would normally terrify you, he even sent you little things that reminded him of his other friends. Silly mascots, movie lines. Not to mention all his group members were incredibly nice to you when you came over, and even offered to meet up outside of your little flings with their noble leader. Honestly, Chan was a good friend to have.

“Ope, excuse me,” came a soft voice from beside you in the hall. You nearly jumped out of your skin. Female voices weren’t common in the dorm. The dorm aunties were usually gone for the night when you arrived, and stayed out of your way regardless. But this wasn’t one of the aunties or a staff member. This was Cute Girl.

Her voice was toned sweeter than you assumed was normal, but goodness she was adorable, even with bedhead.

And even with a small bite mark on her neck, bruising right under her ear.

You couldn’t help but think that if she wanted to be more modest, her fluffy hair wouldn’t still be in a slept-in, messy bun, but sure enough it was easy to catch when she edged past you in the narrow hall on her way to the kitchen. It was like a little pressed poppy, the way it stood out on her delicate skin.

And you almost wondered where she got it, when another voice made you jolt.

“Behind you, noona,” came a groggy, deep voice behind your shoulder. English. Felix.

You watched incredulously as he scooted past you, from the direction of the bathroom and also on his way into the kitchen.

It wasn’t just that his mark was violet, practically resembling the welt you got from an ornery octopus’ suction cups the last time your uncle dragged you on a fishing trip.

It was more so the little hint of a scratch just barely visible past the collar of his worn t-shirt. You spied it as he walked past, on the nape of his neck. The red mark was raised against his freckled skin, and you watched, gobsmacked, as Felix comfortably put his hand on Cute Girl’s lower back to shuffle past her to get to the coffee on the counter.

Now, you had to temper your heightened reaction down. You adored Felix. He was always curiously peeking at the tags on your clothes and bags, always offering you food or asking about your day. He even started messaging you when he came across your product photos in the wild. Felix was so sweet.

But so was Cute Girl. This wasn’t the first time you’d seen her at the dorm. This had to have been the second or third time. There was definitely one time, when you and Chan came in as she was leaving one day, and you remembered that because Chan had been weird for the rest of the night. Like, he was an impregnable fortress for 20 minutes while he checked his messages. Weird.

So that meant this had to be the third time, because you also remembered a distinct moment where Cute Girl was hanging out in the kitchen, sort of like this morning. And, come to think of it, Felix was there, too, taking care of some chores before they went out. She hadn’t spoken to you much, for sure, but she was the kind of quiet that told you that she was only shy, and not as if she were perceiving you as competition. Ergo, you didn’t know her name. Ergo, Cute Girl.

But this wasn’t any of your business. Even though now you knew why you and Chan crashed on the couch last night.

“Noona, did you want anything?” came Felix from the kitchen. He was poking his head into the hallway, and now you realized you were lingering.

“No, dear, thank you,” you quickly replied, pushing your feet to finally enter the kitchen. Cute Girl eyed you up and down as you opened the freezer and plucked out an ice pack. Her smudged eyeliner gave her doe eyes.

It’s none of your business.

But you couldn’t not say anything.

You grinned at Cute Girl. Genuinely. “Hey,” you greeted.

“Hi,” she answered brightly.

You raised a hand, silently imploring her for consent to make physical contact, and she perked up before she leaned in an inch to confirm. A few tendrils of her hair hung loose from her bun, and you gently brushed them with your fingers real quick so they framed her face more. “Your hair is so gorgeous,” you gushed. “What conditioner do you use?”

Cute Girl’s eyes lit up, and her hand automatically reached up to pull the elastic out of her hair so it cascaded around her shoulders. The love bite was covered instantly. “Nothing special, honestly,” she admitted, “I just try to take care of it.”

“I love it,” you cooed. And you weren’t lying.

“Doing anything fun today, noona?” Felix asked from behind her.

“All I have planned is relaxing once I get home,” you chuckled.

“That sounds amazing,” sighed Felix, and you almost believed he was jealous for a moment.

You gracefully exited the kitchen before returning to Chan’s room. “Noona, noona, noona,” you muttered while you closed the door behind you. He looked up from his phone, an eyebrow raised. “Everyone calls me noona,” you explained with a chuckle, “except for you.”

“That’s because you’re my eomma,” Chan deadpanned.

He shrieked when you tackled him to shove the ice pack under his shirt. You both knew this wasn’t the case. In fact, you were both firmly in jagi or babe territory now that you were more comfortable with each other in your arrangement. But you couldn’t deny it was easy to nag or tease him, so maybe the dig was accurate.

You leaned down, picking up your bag that you’d thrown in here earlier in the morning, and plucked out the necklace you’d taken off after the second bar last night. One attempt, and then two, let you know that your fingers were just not going to get this done and you marveled that you got the stupidly precious thing on to begin with. You frustratedly thrust the bauble at Chan before sitting beside him at the foot of the bed.

Chan was almost always surprisingly gentle with you. It was like he was assuming he’d be too rough and making adjustments accordingly. Now, he delicately brushed your hair forward over your shoulder and shifted you around so your back was to him. He noticeably paused for a moment after he fiddled with the necklace clasp to secure it.

“You have a tattoo?”

You nodded. “Sure,” you answered. “I got it done a few years ago.”

His thumb gingerly caressed the little bird at the top of your neck, where it could easily be hidden. You had a few of these, actually, but it’s not like he ever saw you in proper lighting. Chan’s gesture was shockingly tender, and if you didn’t know any better, you could almost mistake it for affection.

“What does it mean?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged. “I just like it.”

Chan paused again, but now your lip curled in a devious smile.

“What’s the matter?” you teased him.

“It can’t not mean anything,” he stubbornly refuted.

“Sure it does,” you doubled down.

“Ugh,” he scoffed, “you’re just trying to annoy me. Noona.”

You wrinkled your nose before turning around to pinch him. “Quit that. I don’t even know who started it. I just suddenly adopted you all like little fairytale dwarves. You’re Dopey, clearly.”

“Changbin was first,” Chan laughed. “Who can blame him? You’re as old as his sister.”

Chan howled as you snatched the ice pack on his ribs to instead press it to his cheek. He leaned back in retreat, but you followed until you were pretty much sitting on him.

“Sister?” you badgered him. “What sister?”

“... His older sister? She’s a few years older than him, it’s not like she’s ancient,” Chan answered incredulously. “What’s wrong with noona anyway? They like you. They like having you around.”

“Ugh,” you sighed, plucking the ice pack off his face to put back on his abdomen. “I guess I’m starting to feel old. I see all these younger models come to casting calls and I get turned away more and more.”

“Nonsense,” Chan decided. “I like it.”

“I know you do,” you rebuked. “Hyung. You have a little army just in this dorm to fuel your leadership kink.”

Chan rolled his eyes. “It’s not a kink; somebody has to lead.” Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. This was very Chan, you’d come to learn. He was humble to a fault, but he took great pride in his humility. You sort of loved it, even if it drove you crazy.

You folded your arms. “You do like it, though.”

“Sometimes I do,” Chan admitted in an attempt to remain aloof.

“What about oppa?” you curiously asked as you peeked under his shirt, checking on how his mark was clearing up. “Then again,” you absently wondered aloud, since his mind was apparently elsewhere, “it’s not like you have many girls around. There’s other idols, I guess. Maybe fans? Yeah, fans. I guess all your younger fans call you oppa. But – god, I feel like I’m telling on myself, but I think I’d get weirded out by a stranger calling me noona. I know they’d know me, but I wouldn’t know them, you know? Like is it weird when girls just call you oppa out of nowhere? Hmm? Oppa?” Chan wasn’t engaging with your teasing ramble, apparently, but he did catch your attention.

By twitching under you. Between your legs.

“Gross!” you yelled. Chan was turning hot pink in realization.

“It’s not like that!” he defended, his hands scrambling to cover your mouth. “I was– it’s not like– my mind wandered!”

“Your mind wandered where?!” you reeled.

“I’m sorry, did I leave my bag– OH– Oh god, I’m so sorry–!”

You both swung around to see what the hell just happened. Chan sat up under you in time for you to both catch Cute Girl sheepishly bounding down the hallway.

When you turned back around, Chan was beet red by now. Both your gazes widened, you in realization and Chan in getting caught, before you reflexively flicked him in the forehead. Chan clapped a hand to his face with a yelp.

“What the fuck?!”

“Who is that girl?” you interrogated.

“Who?!”

“CHRISTOPHER!”

“Nobody!” squeaked Chan. “She’s seeing Felix!”

“That’s gross!” you groaned.

“What is?!”

“You act so weird around her now that I think about it,” you continued scolding him. “You better tell me what’s going on right now, right this second.”

Chan wriggled out from under you, hands up in innocence. “There is nothing to tell you.”

Your eyes darted south. His shorts said otherwise. Chan wrinkled his nose in offense and turned away from your condemning gaze. “Christopher,” you chided again.

“Nope,” he shook his head. “Even if there was anything going on, it’s not gross. But there’s nothing going on. What about you and Changbin?”

“Changbin?!” you roared out a laugh. “He won’t even look at me for more than two seconds!”

“Well you won’t make eye contact with him for more than two seconds, so I guess you’re even. But you sure as hell stare at him a whole bunch otherwise.”

“You think that makes me guilty?!” you giggled.

“Look,” Chan retorted over his shoulder, “I’ll have you know I’ve seen him act like that only a few times. But I’m guessing you’re too chicken to actually try anything.”

“Chicken?!” you parroted back. “What is this, primary school?”

“All I’m saying,” Chan nonchalantly shrugged, “is that I want to see you happy. But I’m also betting you won’t make a move, let alone get him to crack.”

“Nonsense,” you argued, “I’m irresistible. What if I do try?”

“Then maybe I’ll tell you whatever not-gross thing you want to know.”

“That’s insane.”

Chan grinned back at you. “If it’s so insane, then don’t take me up on it.”

You felt your jaw harden in unbridled, stubborn spite as you stalked around to face Chan. He set his hands on his hips and you did the same.

“Fine. I’m going to try to bag Changbin. Now spill.”

[to be continued. 🐝]

[annamarabella-grumble]

My 7 Favourite Games of 2022

It’s so close to the new year now and I’ve been taking a little holiday from streaming, making new videos, and writing anything longer than my grocery shopping list, but there was one list I didn’t want to miss out on making: my favourite games of 2022. Since I started streaming every week in January of this year, I’ve played — and actually finished — a ton of games, and I’ve collected my seven favourites in this post.

They may be favourites for different reasons: having an emotional impact, a gripping storyline, or outstanding world building. Game mechanics tend to be secondary to my enjoyment of the story of a game, but there’ll be shoutouts to games whose developers clearly put thought into quality of life and what most respects players’ time.

Not all of these games were released in 2022, as I came to a few of them late, but I first played them all to completion in 2022.

Number 7: Gotham Knights

See, here’s the thing: I don’t care about 60 FPS, I really don’t. I understand that the PC version had some performance issues; I play it on the xbox series x, and it looks and plays absolutely fine for me. Second thing: I also don’t really care which version of canon or continuity any Batman game gets its characters or story from. Third thing: I enjoy the Arkham games as a viewer, not as a player myself. If you also don’t make either of these things your entire personality, keep reading.

What kept me playing the game was the mix of open world and linear storytelling. The main story, the additional rogue case files, and the Batkids’ own storylines gave the game a solid scaffolding to keep you going whenever you were tired of running after Freaks and Regulators and the Mob in near-endlessly procedurally generating chases and preventing small-time crime. But if you just wanted to dip in for a bit, especially to test out new abilities, the open world was yours to patrol for a night, wreck some shit, and go home.

Yes, that stuff gets repetitive, and if your brain isn’t wired in a way that enjoys that, I absolutely understand everyone who says they got bored of the main gameplay loop after an hour; that’s totally fair. For me, though, who likes checking things off a list and not having to think too much while cracking skulls? Perfect, I’ll do a hundred nights of patrol out in the streets of Gotham to collect shiny things.

For what it is, Gotham Knights is a perfectly solid and enjoyable game. As soon as you step away from a narratively linear game experience and into an open world, with online multiplayer mechanics to boot, the main challenge is keeping the player interested. Keeping up any narrative arc of suspense is difficult to do, and as a consequence, the final showdowns with the rogues can feel anticlimactic. The main final fight only happens after an exceedingly long section of sneaking and grappling through underground tunnels; in that same vein a lengthy chase through the sewers ends with a rather standard boss fight, too. Gotham Knights isn’t really about the set pieces. Still, there’s a large variety of locations and I like the neon aesthetic of the main streets.

I’ve played as each of the heroes over time, though I mainlined the story as Batgirl first, and I’m enjoying the variations in their abilities and fighting styles, while the mechanics are based in the same system to allow for an easy switch-over. There’s a ton of gear modifications to really bulk your character up, and it’s just fun to get together with a pal and run around mashing buttons. There’s less of a focus on the combo system from the Arkham games, which personally suits me fine.

Gotham Knights got the Batkids right, I feel. Yes, for simplicity’s sake there’s a strong, almost exclusive focus on some of each of their core characteristics to explore in the short cut scenes tied to memories around the city or the Belfry. But each of those is also tied to Bruce’s memory, and how he approached training and, for all of them except Barbara, raising them. (And even she would say that she got half her stubbornness from her father, the other half from him.) We get to know them in part because Batman knew them so well. And there’s a lot of heart in those moments. They were, for all their struggles to hold things together, a family, and that comes across really well.

In a game focused more on narrative or simply on only one of the main characters, those aspects as well as the rogue case files would have been more fleshed out and explored more deeply than Gotham Knights has room to do. But I appreciate the effort put into making Gotham City itself more lived in and vibrant than in previous games, though sometimes it still somehow manages to feel deserted? It’s odd. The real upshot for me was, though, that it doesn’t feel grindy. The presence of other case files suited for different level caps, and an emphasis on other contacts and side quests, makes it so you’re not just endlessly levelling up in order to be able to progress in the main story.

The game’s single greatest failing is that it doesn’t let me beat up cops wholesale, even though literally all of them will immediate open fire if they see a cape.

Number 6: Eternal Threads

Eternal Threads is a narrative puzzle game that completely took me by surprise during the summer. One long summer night without sleep turned into a treasure hunt of memories — and many of them sad, upsetting, or at least foreboding.

The story of Eternal Threads hinges on six housemates that all died in the same house fire. And you, the player, arriving from the future not to prevent the fire itself, but to save the six people trapped inside.

There’s a way to save all of them, and then there’s a way to help each of them resolve either past trauma or point them towards a solution for the challenge they see before them. You can stop once all are projected to survive, but you can keep going to find the best ending for all six characters. It does eventually feel like trial and error, trying to find the crux in it all that shakes the remaining puzzle pieces into place, but thanks to the narrative and all characters having relationships with each other that contributed to the mystery, and if you’re following those lines, it’s not just randomly turning over random pieces of the puzzle.

The visualisation mechanic felt familiar from playing detective games but with an added twist thanks to the visual timeline of events you can scroll through and tamper with.

Each of the characters led fully realised lives — some with tropes bordering on cliché, and sometimes the writing gets a little edgelord — but you come to care for each of them. I’ve written a detailed review of Eternal Threads, if you’d like to know more; including information on additional trigger warnings.

Number 5: The Excavation of Hob's Barrow

Hob’s Barrow is a stunning indie folk horror game inspired by English folk tales. I mean, apparently I’m cursed because every time I wanted to play the second half on stream, either I got sick or my PC stopped working somehow, so I had to finish it on my own. But at this point, that’s honestly part of its charm.

There’s things in that barrow Saxnot doesn’t want me to see.

Hob’s Barrow is a great blend of an emotionally affecting storytelling and classic point and click adventure games. Thomasina’s story is told in a classic framing narrative, along with flashbacks to her childhood, that keeps its final twist close to its chest. It’s a game that tells you from the outset, “you are doomed by the narrative” and then doesn’t stop for questions. There’s a solid mystery at the heart of the story, which is satisfying to unravel. And then, we ourselves unravel as we enter Hob’s Barrow, and everything we thought we knew was true is turned on its head.

There’s plenty of mystery and folk horror here, including references to the fair folk and the Lambton Worm, a real folk horror story. Thankfully, however, the game doesn’t rely on jump scares — they are present, but they’re not overused. Equally, its twist don’t rest on shock value. They’re foreshadowed well, and whether you piece things together with a bit of lead or just before it happens, they are shocking. Just not because they come out of nowhere, not because the game is more invested in tricking you, the player, than telling a compelling story. They’re shocking because they’re impactful, because there’s emotional weight to them.

The voice acting is incredible, as is the sound design and music — it’s delightfully Twin Peaks in places, which makes me very happy. (You can support the artist, The Machine, on Bandcamp!)

The protagonist’s voice actor, Sam Béart, in particular, does a fantastic job bringing Thomasina to life: from a troubled upbringing, to becoming a confident young researcher, to the tragedy and loss she eventually experiences.

Play this game! Play this game!

Number 4: A Little to the Left

There’s a full review of this game up on my channel already, so I’ll keep this brief, but I really cannot recommend A Little to the Left enough if you’re looking for a cozy puzzle game to while away a few hours with, and especially if you find putting things just in the right order satisfying.

The adorable art style and the way these puzzles fit together visually truly make the serotonin go brrrrr. Plus, when you’re done with the main levels, there’s a daily tidy to keep you engaged and exercise the little grey cells. The music is adorable, and it’s just so chill.

I have a more in-depth review here: 8 Reasons to Play A Little to the Left.

Number 3: Stray

This landing high up on this list won’t be a surprise to anybody: A+++ cat mechanics, no notes. The cutest cat game of all time, calling it now — with an absolutely devastating revelation.

Aside from being an adorable game about a cute cat, it’s also a powerful story about humanity, its foibles and strengths, and what’s left of us when, well. Nothing’s left of us. The world they forged outlived them in this story, and it outlived them so well that it’s as if they were still there, locked into Plato’s Cave, aka the domed city.

The Village is a place of light, because the humans that lived there used the light as an act of rebellion. They knew things were over, and they refused to live what little time they had left in the dark. The robots that lived with them, outlived them, continue to remember them. They don’t revere them as gods, they simply remember and take care of the things that mattered to them.

In this dystopia, the corporations that got them into this mess are long gone along with them. Perhaps, in the sprawling Outside, there is hope for new life. Give Earth to the cats. They’ll know what to do with it.

I have a more in-depth review here: 9 Reasons to Play Stray.

Number 2: Hades

Now, this game didn’t come out in 2022, and I was severely late to the party, but I picked it up for real and actually successfully escaped a few times over the summer, and I would like to thank everyone who psychically or otherwise bullied me into finally playing it.

If you’ve played it or, well, not lived under a rock since its release, then you’ll know why Hades is outstanding: the dialogue system, the voice acting, the soundtrack, the weapons and combat, the relationship mechanics, the roguelike…. ugh.

To borrow from the essay I wrote just after completing my let’s play of the game:

With Hades, I’ve learnt not to mourn the boon combo I lose when I inevitably die — I know I can make my own luck on the next run, and the next, and the next…

Zagreus’ complicated relationship with… well, everyone he’s ever met is by turns ready to pluck at your heartstrings, make you laugh, or ignite a blinding fury that will carry you through the next round on burning heels. In the Greek underworld, everyone’s queer and no-one is sorry (except they are so very, very sorry; sometimes, when you catch them in the right light). Everyone’s also punishingly hot, and it’s frankly unfair to make bisexuals play this game and expect them to get anything done without some sort of health warning.

You needn’t have spent your formative years soaking up Greek myth — though which of us hasn’t had something elgeebeetee happen to them whilst immersed in the adventures of Olympus, I ask you — to enjoy the story and the many characters’ idiosyncrasies and relationships.

I am perfectly content finding things out by the piecemeal method. Piecemeal is certainly all Father gives you, so settle in, folks, hope you’ve all packed your bags for the guilt trip. But don’t worry, you can make it all better by commissioning new rugs and furniture you’ll never once sit on because Zagreus. cannot. sit. still. Someone make that boy take a nap.

AND NOW WE’RE GETTING PART 2. BISEXUALS JUST KEEP WINNING.

Number 1: Cult of the Lamb

My GOTY is Cult of the Lamb. I love it, I’ve finished it and I still play it.

And here’s a variation of something that I originally wrote in that same essay about Hades, but which applies to Cult of the Lamb as well because both of them are roguelike games that I ended up loving after being scared of the genre for years — me being an absolute hoarder of stuff in video games.

The game acknowledges gains, motivating the player to keep going, ever on the quest for more, more, or simply to try out the new toys. This also lends support when you feel stuck, because you’re not being punished for not progressing in terms of region bosses defeated. Once you have, then, spicing things up through additional conditions and incentives means you still earn rewards for making it through again and again and again, giving the game the longevity it needs to keep players coming back for more to ensure that they actually see all the stuff that’s tucked away.

Cult of the Lamb is far from being as expansive in its story content compared to Hades. If you keep coming back it’s because you enjoy the familiarity of the main gameplay loop, or because you want to fully upgrade your cult base and deck it out with ALL the decorations. Or, because you’re cranking up the difficulty and using more of the drawback conditions on the fleeces; akin to Heat runs in Hades, to spice things up.

Speaking of decorations — and I shouted this out in my video review (Cult of the Lamb is my GOTY) — is that removing or editing buildings is so easy. In Stardew Valley, it’s a hassle, in Animal Crossing, it costs loads of money and it’s a hassle. In Cult of the Lamb, you can just pick something up and plop it down somewhere else, or remove it entirely, and it’s the work of seconds. Good news for all of us millennials who can’t commit to putting a new sticker on our laptops.

What were your favourite games you played in 2022?

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

More the Merrier

Pairings | Steve Rogers x reader, Sam Wilson x reader, Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings | smut, swearing, Bucky being a literal SEX GOD, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, p in v, p in a

Word count | 2813

Summary | you and Bucky get a little freaking during a training session. Steve and Sam want to join.

Masterlist

Sweaty strands of hair dangled over your eyes, the sweet burn stinging against them when the sweat dripped off. Your fists held tight in front of you, wrapped perfectly with a now tinged-grey bandage and a glossy sheen coating your skin. Bucky stood before you, cocky smirk on his lips and hair framing his face from where it has fallen out of the bun at the back of his head, fists held high before a punch is landed to your stomach. The force sends you falling back, butt colliding heavily with the floor and a groan slipping from your lips.

"That's the last time, James." You warn, rubbing your sore ass as he helps to to your feet - the metal of his hand a welcome coldness against the searing heat of yours. Your fighting was not the best, to say the least, and you usually relied on your powers. Bucky offered to help you - but so far he all but knocked you on your ass every five minutes, even after three weeks of training.

"Let's take a break." Buck decided, chucking your water bottle over at you which you barely caught in time before it would've gone flying into your face. You sent a glare his way and Bucky chuckled, throwing his head back and gulping down his own water - Adam's apple bobbing and drops running down his chin and over his throat. You subtly rubbed your thighs together, attempted to ignore the gush of arousal that flooded between them as you slowly dipped at your drink.

"Let's go again." You said definitively, back in stance and ready to fight. You threw a heavy punch, but Bucky merely caught it in his open palm, twisting until your back pressed against his solid chest. Heavy breathing reverberated in your ear, the hotness of his breaths making your cunt tingle and a shiver wrack down your spine.

"You okay, doll?" A husk in your ear, and you were a goner. A lewd moan escaped you as Buck cupped your clothed core with his flesh hand, the metal one encasing your throat. "Seems like you need my help." He smirked against your cheek, placing a few kisses there before he was ripping your leggings straight from you. If it had been anyone else you would have protested, seeing as they were your favourite leggings, but this was Bucky, so you merely let out a gasp and dropped your head back on his shoulder. "Fuck, so wet already, Doll." Bucky mumbled, fingers slipping past the waist band of your panties.

A wanton moan spilled from your lips when his fingers made contact with your pulsating clit, rubbing it in tight circles as you gasped. You could feel him smirk against the skin of your neck at your reactions, wet and open-mouthed kisses quickly turning to nips and bites that made both you and the super soldier groan.

"Shit, James." You sighed and a small growl escaped him when you used his name. He let his middle finger slip lower, tracing your wet slit before dipping ever-so-slightly into your heat. He hummed in approval when you clenched around the tip of his digit, before slowly sliding the rest of his finger in. You were literally a moaning mess at this point and he'd barely touched you. (I mean come on, it is Bucky Barnes after all).

Bucky started to pump his finger, giving your throat a little squeeze as he added another finger to your wet pussy.

"S'tight, doll. I don't know if I'll get my cock in there." He drawled, accent thick against your ear. All you could do was let another lewd moan escape you, the only thing keeping you uptight being Bucky's hand wrapped around your throat, the cool metal a stark contrast to the hot flush that was brushed all over your skin by now.

"James!" You cried out, knees buckling as his palm began bumping against your clit with every thrust of his fingers. A third one was added to your heat.

"You like that, doll?" He rasped, curling his fingers upwards experimentally and grinning at the little Yelp of pleasure it dragged from you. The grin only spread when Bucky picked up on footsteps coming towards the gym, the unmistakable voices of Sam and Steve filling his ears.

Of course, you didn't hear this, as Bucky had super-soldier hearing and all. Bucky doubled his efforts, determined to have you cumming as both your friends walked in the room. Give them a show.

"C'mon, doll, cum for me," Bucky egged, letting his fingers hit that one spit inside you with ever curl, "soak me, cum all over my hand." He continued, nipping on your earlobe and pressing his hard-on into your back.

You could also hear Steve and Sam approaching now, but you were way to intent on getting your release to being yourself to care. Fuck them, you thought - then a smile graced your lips, maybe seeing you come undone would grant that wish.

"I want you to scream for me, y/n." Bucky groaned as the door to the gym swung open - Sam and Steve in the middle of talking and not looking away from each other until a shriek of pleasure ripped from you.

"F-fuck! Bucky!" You moaned so bloody loudly, Bucky was convinced that anyone on the bottom floor of the tower must've heard you. Your cunt spasmed around Bucky's fingers, legs trembling as hands clawing at Bucky's muscular thighs to ground yourself.

"Good girl." He whispered against your ear, smirking at the sight before him. Stood before you, were Steve and Sam. Steve looked like a deer in headlights - eyes wider than saucers and jaw hanging so low it may as well be on the floor. Sam, on the other hand, was also smirking, eyes roaming your shaking body with a hunger that Bucky had instantly noticed.

"Fuck me, is there room for another to join?" Sam was quick to blurt out, earning him a shocked side-eye from Steve. Bucky's smirk grew.

"What do you think, doll? D'you reckon we have room for a couple more?" Bucky asked you, breath tickling the side of your face.

"The more the merrier." You purred, words still slightly spurred from your orgasm, but you were back to thinking clearly. Sam wasted no time, and before you knew it he was stood in front of you and pulling you into a searing kiss. Bucky retracted his hand from your panties, stepping back slightly and looking to Steve.

"You gonna join us or what, punk?" Bucky smiled amusedly as his best friend, who was trying his hardest not to stare at your semi-naked body. Your hands were gripping Sam's biceps tightly, hips rocking over her thigh that he had spotted between your legs as you moaned into his mouth. When he pulled away to scold steve you were panting.

"What's wrong, old man? Forgotten what an orgasm is? When was the last time you got laid?" Sam teased, tone mockingly accusatory but it worked. A scowl quickly spread over Steve's face, arms crossing over his chest to show case his bulging muscles.

"Just because I'm old doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing." Steve remarked and Bucky rose a brow.

"Really, pal? Because I don't remember you being with a lot of women back in the day." Bucky teased and Steve sent him a look.

"Yeah, well, I spent a couple months working only with a group of girls after I was injected, remember?" Steve said, his boyish grin telling the rest of the story.

"Well, Mr America's most wanted, why don't you come prove us wrong?" Sam prompted, and by this time your were back to rubbing you thighs together at the though of taking all three of them.

"Please, Steve. I need you." You whined, hoping to speed him up a little bit. Steve took long strides towards you until he stood in front of you, hand cupping your jaw and directing your gaze to him.

"Suck a needy little thing, aren't ya?" Steve chided, pushing your face to one side and then the other as he examined you. "You will address me as Captain." He said authoritatively and you barely had enough time to utter a little 'yes, Captain' before he was slinging you over his shoulder and sauntering over to the weights benches.

You let out a little mph as Steve dropped you onto the bench, dropping to his knees and parting your legs. He begun to press wet and sloppy kisses to your inner thighs, kissing ever exposed bit of skin he could find except where you needed him most.

"Captain!" You whined, wishing he would hurry up a little. Steve rolled his eyes at your childish behaviour but suddenly stopped and let out a groan when you buried your short fingers in his hair and attempted to pull his head into your core.

"Patience, little one." He chided, and the nickname nearly made you want to cry with want. Steve was the only person at the tower that called you 'little one', and he only did so when he was scolding you or agitated with you. You never thought it'd be such a turn-on during sex, especially coming from his lips.

"Woah, woah, woah. Back up," Sam interrupted suddenly, just as Steve went to place a kiss over your clothes heat. "Steve actually knows what eating a girl out means?" He inquired and Steve scoffed.

"Jesus, Sam! I'm from the forties not a fuckin' nunnery!" Steve exclaimed and Sam raised his hands up in surrender.

"Alright, man." He backed off a little and Steve shook his head before turning back to you and resuming to tease you over your panties. You gasp when he ran a finger over your covered slit, some of the remnants of your orgasm seeping through the fabric and transferring onto his finger. Steve brought the now damp finger to his mouth and sucked it clean, moaning at your taste.

"You taste so good, little one, like fuckin' honey I swear." Steve groaned and before you could respond another gasp was released as you felt the fabric of your panties being ripped from your skin. Steve pocketing the scrap of fabric did not go unnoticed by you or the boys, and Bucky smirked out how confident his little Stevie had become.

"Captain, please!" You whined impatiently, desperate to feel his mouth on you. Steve's lips curled into a smirk, before they were descending on you. You bucked your hips up into his mouth, but Steve tutted you and pinned your hips down with his arm, keeping you from moving again. He licked a stripe up from you slit to your clit and back again, doing this a few times and making you try to thrash your hips. Steve stopped at your entrance and pushed his tongue into your pulsing heat, pumping the warm muscle in-and-out, tearing pornographic moans from your lips.

Your hands found their way down to Steve hair, tangling your fingers into his blonde locks and tugging harshly, getting a groan from him as Steve's tongue curled around inside you, stroking your walls. Your cunt clenched around him and Steve moaned into you in response, sending vibrations throughout you core. You shuddered as Steve started to rub circles on your clit, adding too much to the sensation and you came screaming Steve's name.

As slap to your thigh caused you to jolt, crying out when the contact was made.

"What did you just call me?" Steve demanded and you stuttered, a babbling mess as he kept up him ministrations.

Steve pulled away but didn't stop, moving his fingers from your clit to your entrance and pushing them in to the knuckle, pulling out to the tips and pushing back in, while waiting for his answer.

"I'm s-sorry, Captain!" You managed finally.

"Good girl." Steve groaned before he lowered his mouth to your clit and lapped around it, flicking it with his tongue. Your eyes rolled as Steve sucked your clit into his mouth, nipping it and dragging it out with his teeth. You soon came again, biting your bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood.

He kept going, curling his fingers upwards and trying to finger your spot.

"Captain!" You moaned as he found it, making him reangle his fingers to hit it with every thrust. His mouthy worked at your clit still, bringing you to a third orgasm from just Steve's tongue and fingers that made your whole body shake. Steve pulled away and smirked at you, climbing over you and kissing you. You could taste your own sweetness in the kiss and moaned into his mouth.

When he pulled away your face was full of a fucked-out expression, one that made Bucky coo as he stroked your cheek lovingly a after Steve had stepped back.

"You tired already, baby?" He said sweetly, his thumb pulling at your swollen bottom lip and dragging it towards your thin with his thumb. It bounced back into place as you nodded, eyes barely open. "Tough. You still haven't taken any of our cocks and poor Sammy hasn't even got his hands on this perfect body of your." Buck murmured in your ear, his breath hot and intoxicating against your skins as your eyes widened at his words.

He stepped aside with a wicked smirk, holding his arm out in gesture towards you for Sam. Sam stepped forwards eagerly, leaning down to place a bruising kiss against your lips and before you knew it the Falcon had your legs wrapped around his waist and you back slammed against the wall.

His lips trailed over you jaw, down your neck as your head fell back against the wall, a lewd moan escaping you when you felt his hardness press into your bare cunt.

"Sam, please." You whined breathily, trying to wiggle your hips against him as persuasion. Bucky and Steve chuckled from behind sam, and when you dared to glance over his shoulder a new flood of arousal flocked to your entrance at the sights of both men stripped and stroking their cocks. A groan spilled from you lips and Sam smirked against you skin, using a hand to pull his work out shorts down and pull his cock from his boxers.

"You ready, baby?" He husked in your ear, running his length through you folds and letting the head bump you clit as he collected your wetness.

"Fuck, please, just get inside me." You moaned, head lolling forward to rest against his shoulder. Sam let out a guttural groan as he entered you, throw in head back as he bottomed out. He stayed still for a moment, giving some time to adjust and chucking again when you tried to move on his dick.

The man pulled his hips back, slamming them against them with so much force you could see stars.

"Fuck!" You screamed, biting down on Sam's shoulder to try and keep quiet - fully aware that anyone else at the tower could walk into the gym at any moment to see Sam railing you against the wall and Steve and Bucky jerking off at the sight.

"That's it," Sam groaned, smirking as you screamed when he hit that spit deep inside you, "taking my cock so well in this tight little pussy." He praised, hands braced against the wall behind you as he thrusted harshly up into you. You were a babbling, moaning mess, reaching for you clit to push yourself over the edge again. The accompanied sounds of all three men groaning and moaning was enough to spurt in your release again, and you soon hit your peak crying out Sam's name.

He rode out your orgasm with a few more hard pumps, groaning your name as he released inside you. Sam's forehead pressed to yours, heavy breaths shared as you both calmed down. "Fuck, that was good." He grinned, slowly pulling out of you and setting you down on the ground. You kept your hands resting on his shoulders, untrusting of your own strength when it came to your now-wobbly legs. "You didn't think we were done, did you?" He whispered huskily in your ear, you eyes darting nervously to the two super soldier's with rock hard cock slapping against their stomachs behind Sam.

You gulped, making eye contact with Bucky as he spoke.

"My turn."

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Bucky Barnes One-shots, Drabbles and Headcannons | @buckysgirl101 @quxxnxfhxll

Other Marvel Characters One-shots, Drabbles and Headcannons | @buckysgirl101 @quxxnxfhxll

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[criticalrolo]

All your PC's, battle royale. Who wins? Who goes out first?

OOOO fantastic question, I'll do it with PCs I've played in a full campaign -- Caliope, Thalia, Benelor, Iris, Kier, Osvald, Sigrun, Remus

Battle Royale, assuming everyone is at like. Level 15. here's the order they're going down:

8: Osvald. This man is Old and he's a Rogue/Cleric who was made mainly for support and to get murdered by another PC for the Narrative. He's gonna put up a good fight for a minute but the rest of these freaks are going to put him in the ground right away.

7. Iris. Gotta love a wizard, but I got murdered and/or nearly knocked out playing Iris like... mOst of the time. Just based on Her Habits Alone she's gonna do more damage than Osvald but the dice are going to kill her in the end. Her rogue dip is going to help Evade but she doesn't have as many offensive options as some other people here, let alone her shitty HP

6. Benelor. As a straight up fighter with no multiclassing, if he gets into range with anyone he's going to wreck their shit. IF he can catch any of these slippery bastards. Otherwise they're just going to hit him from far away and there's not much he can do about it. Better luck next time king

5. Remus. His dip into wizard is going to be great while his portent dice last and he can get advantage through his familiar. Same problem as Benelor -- strength fighter can't catch up with these mobile sons of bitches. However, he can do a lot more ambient damage at range than Ben can, and his crazy constitution score/HP total is gonna give him the edge over these other folks. Again, if he gets in range of anyone they're getting fucked up, so it could go either way!

4. Kier. Stunlock monk queen. Fast as fuck and can move a million feet per round, and can evade a lot of damage / has a great AC. Definitely the one here who could fuck up the spell casters fast enough for the melee fighters to finish them off. Can run up walls to get to the fliers and has 2-3x more feet per round than everyone else. Genuinely just luckier than my other PCs for whatever dice gods reason. Has a history of ending encounters on her own, god bless

3. Caliope. Caliope is placing so high because when I played her in a campaign my DMs let me use the UA Lore Wizard, and that one got outlawed immediately after publication for being insanely OP for a REASON. If you let me play a lore wizard right now I would kick everyone's ass. I would kick your ass. I would kick my ass. She's coming in third because she has no goddamn hit points and Thalia has counterspell.

2. Thalia. Straight up BUILT for 1v1ing anyone and anything. Definitely has the best options for straight up weapon damage and spell casting damage. Tons of mobility and access to flight. Hits hard and fast and then using mobile gets the fuck out of the way so everyone has to chase her around. Great AC from the warlock dip. Downside? No goddamn hitpoints. Goes down so fast if someone gets in a lucky hit. COULD clean up if she stays out of the way potentially, but one of her big damage dealers from her magic sword Redeemer gives her a level of exhaustion.

Sigrun. Unlike her dad (rip in pieces Osvald) Sigrun is gonna be the last one standing here. They've got a rogue/warlock/paladin build that, when combined with the elven accuracy feat, is gonna get them a huge chance to crit and do a metric fuck ton of damage. They've got more hit points and gamble less with damage to themselves, so they're gonna outlast and then annihilate the rest of these nerds.

[smutty-ki113r]

🎠Laughing Jack🎠|| Carousel

Fluff one-shot x gn!reader— only warning is angst (2.6k)

Inspired by: Melanie Martinez

After months of endless nagging you finally convinced Laughing Jack to let you visit his amusement park. He had claimed it was too scary and you would get creeped out but you weren’t one to take no for an answer.

Giving you a piece of candy so the trans-dementional trip wouldn’t be too hard on you. Tasting the sour lemon taffy he gave you and making a tense face as the flavor pulled at your taste buds and stuck to your teeth.

Your head getting dizzy as your surroundings warped and his room became red and white vertical stripes. Blinking a couple times as he leaned into your face, “are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” You told him, almost falling back at how close he was. As soon as your perception adjusted you looked for the exit to the tent you were inside. “Onward!” You said excited, marching comedically to the entrance flap.

“This isn’t exactly the safest place”, he called from behind, catching up with ease because his legs were so long. “You need to stay close to me at all times” you smiled at him, it’s not like you were complaining, “got that?”

Giving him a keen nod you stepped out of the grand tent. Squinting at the sky, which was tainted a dusty gray, swirly clouds amber of scattered around in the background. The carnival was beautifully revolting, with littered attractions as far as the eye could see.

The place looked somewhat abandoned, if you get past the faint cries of children, from their souls stored in toys. Rides that once colored a vibrant red had paint chipped, specks of dull metal flaked over the bars.

Game stands broken down and leaning unsteadily, disturbing toys with eyes and limbs missing hanging from the top. It looked like it might fall down at any minute, but you couldn’t help but notice the newer looking boxes of supplies lying around next to the stands.

Fairy lights hung from the tilted signs, decorating the food court. A fresh trail had been made between the rides.

It warmed your heart that he had made subtle efforts to fix the place up, he certainly didn’t think you would notice.

Looking back at his nervous smile, Jack was terrified you would hate the place. You thought all but the opposite, giving him a big grin. Your expression relaxed him, assuring him that you wouldn’t think he was a freak and leave. His whole demeanor shifting, making him more comfortable and even enthusiastic.

Straightening out and giving you jazz hands, “what are you waiting for?” putting one hand on his hip to motion you to the park with the other “lets go have fun!”

Following behind you with a giggle as you approached the carnival games. The ring toss looking somewhat appealing in between the other activities, so you told him you wanted to play.

“Basically you get 5 rings, if you get at least 3 in the pins you win a prize” he explained.

“Alright alright lemme try” you waved him off, snatching the rings and giving one a toss. It missed, you brushed it off. The second one made it in and Jack gave a little cheer, it still wasn’t enough.

Hyperfocusing on the pin in the middle make a soft throw upward, the edge hitting the top of the pin and falling to the side. You gave a groan, calculating your last two throws.

Your forth throw made the pin to the side, and you only had one more try left. Aiming for another pin at the side to release, the ring clanging against it and falling to the floor.

You went to look at Jack with a frown but he wore a happy expression, “you won!” He exclaimed. Confused you turned back, finding the ring you had just tossed around the last pin. You were completely certain you had missed it, racking your mind for an explanation as jack handed you a small purple bunny that was missing an arm.

Realizing that Jack had manipulating the game so you could win, throwing him a knowing glance. He just happened to be looking away, whistling guiltily.

Squeezing the bunny you moved onto the next game, it was ballon dart toss. The stand had pale red and black balloons scattered across a board. Excitement was written all over his face, you cocked an eyebrow in question.

“It’s a two person game!” He said, “whoever pops more balloons wins!”

He handed you four darts and kept four for himself, “you can go first” he motioned with a grin. Pacing the dart in two fingers a couple times before throwing at a balloon. Giving a groan when you missed and waiting for him to go.

Being as skilled as he was he managed to land one in a bullseye. “Oh it’s on” you dared, getting one point yourself. LJ got the second one too, staring at you intensely as you evened out the score.

Giving him a small smile as the dart broke the surface of the balloon with a sharp noise “pop goes the weasel right?” You laughed, referring to his famous song.

He looked at you almost in shock, taken aback by your joke. Shaking himself into reality he broke out in a light blush, a part of him touched, as if you were accepting him for who he was.

Too distracted by your eyes on him to play the game with concentration. Missing the third one with a growl he waited for you to take your turn, which you lost. It was the last point and Jack was a shoe in, so obviously he took the victory.

You were happy for him, passing along a “good job!” as he retrieved the big brown teddy bear that was half his size, and all of yours. It was missing an eye, thin stands of makeshift fur pulled out and a silky red bow around it’s neck.

“Here” he said, dangling it in front of you.

“For me?” You asked, “but you won”, trying to look up at him but the bear blocked most of your view, only letting you see above his nose.

“Just take it” he practically pushed it into you, making you blow out an oof.

Holding it to the side at the torso with one hand you broke out in a grin “thank you for the plushie” you said, hugging him from the side and squeezing his torso “but I want you to be my teddy” you laughed. He looked incredibly flustered, frozen as you broke away.

“You’re big and tall” you tippy toed up to give his shoulder pad feathers a ruffle “and fluffy”

The man looked like he was about to faint so you decided to knock it off, laughing and telling him you wanted to go on the carousel next. Quickly, LJ happily led you too it, skipping in front of you (mostly to hide his blush).

Standing at the controls to cue a round, watching you walk around to find a pretty horse. Given, all of them had dark spots and chipped paint, but they worked all the same. Leaving the bear on another horse and climbing onto a white one that had a yellow saddle, intricate lacy designs patterned on the sides. Royal blue reigns across it’s chest and a lion on a crest.

It was beautiful, and you traced your fingers on the drawing. It must have been stunning, but the weathering of time and agony had gotten to it. A painful reminder of what was, a mere reflection of the chipping away of a joyful being.

Prying away from your thoughts as you felt the vibrations of Jack stepping onto the walkway- with one of his big smiles. Even after everything, he still wore a smile. It made you want to tear up, he really needed all the love he could get.

He was too tall to get on a horse, so he just stood by you. His big hand gracing the golden pole and holding on, watching as you peeked up at him. Even though his eyes were constantly bright he displayed something…deeper. It was a sort of shine, a sparkle if you will, luminosity glazed over in such a way that one can only get lost in its vastness.

The looped music in the background was secondary as you rose up and down with the horse, giving Jack a little smile and thanking him for bringing you here. “I’m having a lot of fun with you” you noted.

“Well of course you are! It’s a carnival” he said with joy.

“No I mean with you” you clarified “you’re pretty great Jack”. This time he didn’t avoid your gaze, his mouth open slightly, not knowing how to react to the sincerity of the compliment.

The ride slowly came to a stop, and you were feeling slightly tingly. Maybe it was the air, or the loss of focus. “How about a roller coaster?” You dared, to which he gave a tense face.

“Those are pretty broken, you’ll probably die riding one and that’s not what we want” he said, stepping off the carousel. “How about some cotton candy instead?”

You nodded your head vigorously, following him in the pursuit for the fairy floss, the bear falling behind forgotten. Passing by more unused rides that had long past rusted and a house of mirrors to get to the food court.

Jack humming happily as he dipped a paper cone into the bowl of revolving fibers of sugar. Whipping up a swirly pink and blue cotton candy and handing it to you with a proud smile.

He went to make another treat until you spoke, “I’m not that hungry so we can share” you proposed. “If you want”

“Are you sure?” He asked, concerned that you didn’t have much appetite. “Do you want some candy or maybe a funnel cake?”

You shook him off, taking a bite out of the cloud-like dessert. It was absolutely delicious, honeyed and saccharine on your tongue in a blend of flavor you had never tasted had before.

Soft as it disintegrated onto your mouth, leaving behind a remanence of something too sweet. Bringing it up to Jack, who was so tall you had to extend your arm fully to get it to his mouth.

He simply laughed at your struggle, taking a bite before giving you a thin smile and taking it from your hand. Sitting down at a bench so that you could both share comfortably.

By the time the candy had finished you noticed little bits of the silky texture stuck on his nose. Painfully stifling a laugh you turned away.

“What’s so funny?” He asked with a genuine smile.

When you didn’t answer his tone changed, “what’s so funny huh?” he sounded a bit angered.

Hiccuping through your laughter you faced him, leaning in real close to his face, enough so that you could feel the heat emanating from it; taking a bite of the pink woven candy on his nose and holding it in your teeth.

His face went red at the sight, embarrassed that he had cotton candy on his nose. Well, that and for a moment he thought you were going to kiss him.

Noticing your hands were all sticky you asked him if there was a sink somewhere. After both of you washed your hands you sat back down at the bench.

The sky was going dark, the poofs of dusty cloud fading in with the night but still managing to remain visible. You heard a whirr as Jack turned on all the rides at the carnival, lighting the whole thing up.

You sat in awe, a mere spectator in the empty yet live amusement park. Admiring the music that added to the ambiance, watching Jack approach you.

“Wanna take a walk?” He asked, but there was something…off. LJ seemed nervous as you got up and walked next to him.

He had been thinking about it for a while now, probably even before he brought you to the carnival. Even though he had washed the gooey candy from his hands they were still sticky, but it was from sweat. Giving you side glances as you paced the trail with him.

Debating to himself whether or not he should do it, if you would hate him for it. Telling himself that he would regret it if he didn’t, but thinking about the potential negative reactions you could give.

Passing the carousel once again as you noticed the usually loud and happy clown was silent, lost in thought as he stared into the distance, his lips forming a tensing line.

Wondering if he was ok, but brining up the topic might make him uneasy. Perhaps you being there at his haunted amusement park was ticking him off, or if you taking that cotton floss off his nose was too much, or if you were pushing your luck, or worse what if you triggered hi-

All thoughts faded from your mind the moment you felt a slow, shaky hand grasp onto yours. You had to look to where he held you because he was so gentile you thought it was the wind. Holding onto you softly enough that it felt like a feather, somehow still creating a little pocket of warmth between you.

A glowing thump of heat pulsing inside your chest, happiness digging into your cells and giving you the confidence to squeeze his hand.

He let out a sharp inhale at the feel, still avoiding your gaze as he relaxed into your touch. Not daring to move his hand too much or he might risk ruining the moment, afraid of hurting you with his claws.

Approaching the Ferris wheel he finally spoke, “this is probably the one ride that won’t break”, not a peep about holding you. “Do you want to go on?”

You finally caught his gaze, absolutely melting at the smile in his eyes. Responding with a ‘yes’ and letting him open the door for you. Sustaining his grip with you as he helped you on, not letting go even after you sat.

The cart wasn’t exactly small, but with a guy the size of Jack it was pretty compacted. It’s not like you minded, the lack of space gave you an excuse to bunch up alongside him. The feathers from his pads tickling your face as you rested on him.

Watching the view as the cart took you higher and higher, it was perfect. The evening set in the rich obscurity of the night, lights of the festival blinking as if they had a life of their own. The bulbs on the stands making z’s as they illuminated the red and white drapes of the far off tents.

Jack held your hand with such care and caress, you gave him a reassuring press to let him know it was ok. He was so enveloped with the passionate act that he squeezed as well. Letting you feel all the dips and curves of his hand. Clutching onto you, as if you might disappear too.

Facing him to cup his cheek with your free hand, caressing him and tucking a stand of hair behind his ear. Trailing your thumb across his skin and feeling him lean into your touch, swearing that between the lines on the pad of your finger there was a tear that you had wiped away.

Getting lost in the breaths you shared as you inched closer to his lips, giving him a second of warmth longer to prove that you weren’t going anywhere.

[starryevermore]

this month’s rent (1) ✧ robert pronge

masterlist | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: landlord!robert pronge x fem!reader

summary: when you can’t get enough money for your rent, your landlord finds another way for you to pay.

word count: 2,425

warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, dubcon, innocent reader, name calling (bitch, slut, whore), making a sex tape, manipulation, tit fucking, face fucking, hair pulling, unprotected sex, implied somnophilia, daddy kink, degradation, not proofread

next month’s rent (sequel)

You should’ve known better than to ask your landlord for an extension on your rent. You should’ve figured out some other way to make some quick cash. Dipped into the little savings you had, take on a third job. Something, anything. You should’ve never gone to him. But...You weren’t sure. Your momma always said you were too naïve, saw too much of the good in people. Oh, if she could see you now, living with this man, knelt on your bed in just your bra and panties—ones he’d picked out. Went straight to your wardrobe, plucked ‘em out without even looking, and ordered you to change into them. God, how often had he raided your panty drawer to know exactly where you’d get your most provocative lingerie? 

“Come on, smile for the camera,” he said, zooming the lens in on your face. 

Reluctantly, you smiled, showing off your teeth, batting your eyelashes at the camera, praying that it was to his satisfaction. 

You should’ve known it was all too good to be true. A cheap rental in the classifieds? For a one bed, one bath basement apartment? Yeah, you should’ve been smarter. You should’ve run for the hills when you saw Robert Pronge, the creep who drove an ice cream truck around town, owned the house you’d be renting out of. You heard the whispers, about how before he moved to town, his wife and son died under mysterious circumstances. Some even wondered if he’d been the one to kill them. 

But you weren’t the type to judge. Never had been. Maybe he was just misunderstood. You knew that feeling all too well. Kids on the schoolyard always whispered about how you were a “freak” and a “loser” just because you weren’t as well off, because it was just you and your momma trying to make it through the end of each day. You wouldn’t want to ever put anyone through what you had to experience. It just wasn’t fair. 

Besides, he wasn’t asking for much. A few hundred dollars a month for the basement apartment, plus you were allowed to use his kitchen and laundry room whenever you needed. All you had to do was keep up with the rent payments, not have over any guests, and keep quiet. A little strict, especially about the guest and noise situation, but it was better than anything you could get out of renting anywhere else. And, all things considered, you were a good tenant. You cleaned up after yourself, kept your head down, never did anything to bother him. So that’s why, when your hours got cut at one of your jobs and you couldn’t gather together enough money for that month’s rent, you thought he’d let you off easy, let you make up for it next month or give you a few extra weeks to gather the money or something.

He had other plans, though, you soon realized. You almost wondered if he’d been waiting for this moment to come, to find a reason to get you to obey his every order. 

“I’d hate to have to throw a perfectly good tenant out on the streets,” he’d said, his lips brushing up against your ear as he pinned you against the kitchen counter. You were painfully aware of the bulge pressed up against your thigh, the way his breath smelled like cigarettes and cheap beer. “But you gotta pay.”

“I-I can give you what I have, but it’s not gonna be enough to—”

“That ain’t the kinda payment I was talkin’ about.” His lips moved down your neck. Your breath hitched as he sucked on a spot. No, no, no. He couldn’t be...Could he? “Got this new video camera the other day. Been wantin’ to test it out, but I haven’t found anything I wanted to film til now.”

“What...What do you want to film?”

“Think it’s somethin’ I gotta show you instead of tellin’ ya,” he said. “Go on down to your room, and I’ll be there in a minute so we can get started, yeah?”

You fought the urge to squeeze your eyes shut at the too fresh memory, trying desperately to forget about what you agreed to do. You got the feeling Robert wouldn’t be too happy about you trying to zone out during this whole thing. Something told you he wanted you totally and completely aware of everything that was about to happen. So you forced yourself to keep your eyes open, watching as he panned the camera down to your chest, waiting patiently for his next order. 

“Take off that bra now, yeah? Nice and slow.”

One strap slipped off your shoulder, then the other. You reached around your back, unclasping it, and made a big show of tossing it away. Then you let your hands slip up your body, cupping and squeezing your breasts, letting out a near sinful moan. Was this what he wanted? A performance? Maybe if you did a good enough job, this would get over quick. Then you could find some other way to make the rent for next month. Find another job to make up the difference.

“Shit, you like this don’tcha? Why don’t you show me how much you like this?”

You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to figure out what he wanted. So, when you came up with nothing, you said, “How would you like me?”

“Looks like the bitch isn’t as dumb as she looks,” he snickered. He stepped closer to the bed, the camera trained on your chest as he said, “Move towards the edge. Yeah, that’s it. Now get me out.”

You reached out, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants, pushing them and his boxers down his thighs to his knees. As his erection slapped up against his stomach, the weight of it all came crashing down over you. How, how was he supposed to fit? You weren’t the most experienced girl in the world, but you’d never seen anyone that big, that thick, not even the porn you caught your ex-boyfriend watching. Robert, though, seemed to revel in your horror, chuckling as he gripped his length with his free hand, giving himself a few pumps.

“Push your tits together,” he said. You tore your eyes away from his monster cock, your eyebrows furrowing together. Had you heard him correctly? What was that supposed to do? You’d expected him to tell you to suck him off or something. Was he expecting to fuck your tits? You didn’t even know that was an option. 

“Don’t be shy. Know you’re a fuckin’ whore. Hear you gettin’ yourself every night, fuckin’ screamin’ like a cheap hooker. Shit, you probably ain’t even tellin’ the truth about not havin’ enough money. Bet you told a big fat lie so you could get my big fat cock, eh?”

Slowly, you took your tits in your hands, pushing them together, swallowing your protests. Now was not the time to be throwing a fit. Not when he could kick you out, or extort you with the little footage he already had. He took a step closer, pushing the head of his cock between them, setting a harsh pace from the start. You struggled to hold your position, the snapping of his hips nearing knocking you down. But you knew better than to do anything to piss him off. Things could only get worse from here, and you weren’t in the business of poking the bear. 

“Fuck, almost as tight as your pussy.”

What? How did he—Had he done more than just raid your panty drawer? Had he done something to you before? But how could you not know? 

“Kiss the tip,” he instructed, interrupting your train of thought. When the head of his cock poked back through the top of your breasts, you leaned your head forward, puckering your lips as his cock hit your your mouth. He groaned as the sensation, and you wondered if there was more you could do. The quicker you got him off, the quicker it would end. Right? So, you stuck your tongue out as his cock came back up, swirling it over the tip before it disappeared back between your tits. “Shit, yeah, keep doin’ that, you fuckin’ slut. ”

All too quickly, he was pulling his cock away. You nearly fell over, having been too reliant on leaning against him to balance yourself. But you didn’t have time to think about what to do next, because he was tapping the tip of his cock against your lips.

“Wanna come in your mouth, want you fuckin’ choke on my cream.”

You opened your mouth, letting him push his cock in til he hit the back of your throat. You wanted to push him away, to spit him back out, but he was already pumping in and out, making you gag around him, the sickening sound echoing through your small room. 

You did your best to relax as much as possible, to focus on anything other than what was happening. But with the camera pointing straight in your face, seemingly focused on the tears streaming down your cheeks, you kept being brought back to reality. There was no escaping this, not even in your imagination. 

“Who’s your fuckin’ daddy?” His balls slapped against your face while you choked on his cock. “Huh? Couldn’t hear you over you gagging around me. Don’t worry, little whore, we both know I’m your daddy.”

Your jaw ached as his load filled your mouth. Though you wanted nothing more to spit his cum out, you had no choice but to swallow, his cock still pumping in and out until you took every last drop. 

“Dumb little bitch is finally good for somethin’. You’re a shit fuckin’ tenant, but like this? Makes up for all the shit you put me through.”

He set the camera in your, telling you to show it how there wasn’t a drop of his cum left in your mouth while he pulled his clothes all the way off, chucking them off to the side. Your heart hammered in your chest as you realized what was to come, and you were sure your fear showed on your face as he laughed when he took the camera back from you. 

“Hands and knees. Now.”

You shuffled backwards on the bed to give yourself the room to get in position. He came around the side, gripping your ass cheek in one hand before giving it a hard slap, before doing it again to your other cheek. 

“Huh, would you look at that. Barely even started, and you’re already soaked. Guess you are a good little slut after all, huh?”

He came back around, putting the camera up on the tripod he set up in front of your bed before going back behind you again. The bed sank under his weight and, with him unable to see your face in the moment, you let yourself squeeze your eyes shut as you waited for the inevitable to begin. Consequences be damned. You’d deal with his anger later. You just needed to make sure you still had a place to stay for the time being. Maybe once this was over, when you were able to find other ways to make money, you could try to find a place somewhere else, get the fuck away this psycho. But as you felt the crown of his cock push past your slick folds, you were brought back to the painful reality you found yourself in. 

“So glad I can finally do this while you’re awake. Got fuckin’ sick of sneakin’ down here every night,” he sighed as sheathed himself inside you. 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He had done this to you before. Or maybe he was bluffing, trying to scare you. He seemed like he got off on your uneasiness, on your fear. Maybe he was just lying. Or, even worse, he was telling the truth. And—shit. Were you getting off right now? Was he actually about to make you come? 

You screamed as your orgasm hit you, too aware of everything he was doing to you to even make sense of what was happening. His fingers dug into your hips as your thighs shook, you clenching around him. 

“Who’s pussy is this?” he grunted, yanking your head back, forcing you to look straight down the lens. 

“Yours, daddy!” you cried, feeling another tidal wave of pleasure overtake your senses. Fuck, how could you be coming again already? Was it not enough that he was using you? Did he have to be good at what he was doing, too? 

God, you felt like you were fucking drowning in ecstacy. You almost forgot what you were even doing, you almost forgot who was fucking you. If you let yourself drift away even further away, you could even delude yourself into believing that it was a good man fucking you. Maybe a sweet boyfriend who knew how to push all the right buttons because he took the time to learn you. Not some creep of a landlord who violated you and your boundaries without you even knowing it was happening. 

“Yeah, that’s right, I’m your fuckin’ daddy,” he growled.

Finally, finally, he came, his cum painting your walls as he rocked against you. Thank god for birth control. You hadn’t even processed that he was fucking you bareback, but now you were all too aware as you drifted out of your haze, panic starting to rise in your chest as he slipped out of you and off the bed. 

You pushed yourself up and turned around, sure that he was now done as he shut the camera off. You crawled under your covers, laying on your side, waiting for him to leave. But, luck just wasn’t in your favor nowadays. No, he got under the covers, too, pressing himself against your back. You wondered if he was just taking a break, if there was more he wanted, if this was far from over.

“Let’s make this a permanent thing,” he said, pushing his cock back in you as he pulled you back against his chest. Shit, well there was your answer. “You ain’t gotta pay me anymore money if you let me use this pussy whenever I want to.”

It almost felt like a question, but you knew it wasn’t. Not when he had that sex tape to do whatever he wanted with. So you bit back any protests you had, saying instead, “Yes, daddy. This pussy’s all yours.”

NEXT MONTH’S RENT

[liron-ao3]

Late night call

AU Destiel oneshot

Castiel groans into his pillow. Who the hell calls him in the middle of the night? If this isn't a real emergency, then…

He squints at the screen when he finally gets hold of his phone with clumsy fingers and picks up swiftly when he sees who it is.

Dean. His best friend since college. Castiel was his best man at his impromptu wedding. Dean is the love of his life. But Dean doesn't know. Can't know. And that's fine. There is no place Castiel would rather be than at Dean's side. It's enough for him to see his best friend happy, thriving.

It hurts, too. The aching of longing. The pining that catches him in the most unexpected moments. Dean is beautiful inside out, and Castiel tries not to dream, tries to build a life beyond his best friend. And he does. He has other friends, people who are like family to him, even though they don't share blood. Like Dean's brother Sam, or the neighbours' kids Jack and Claire for whom he is kind of a surrogate father. He has Kelly and Charlie, Rowena and Hannah. He knows he's blessed.

But all of them are circling around the Winchester brothers in one way or another, and it always comes back to Dean, who makes him smile until his face hurts, his heart racing until it threatens to beat out of his chest, and a million knots tying his stomach tightly when he sees Dean kiss his wife Lisa, who is lovely, and beautiful, and everything Dean wants in his life. So Castiel loves her, too. Because she makes Dean happy in a way their friendship can't.

"Hi, Dean. Everything okay?"

"You son of a bitch," Dean slurs over the phone, clearly intoxicated.

Castiel blinks into the near-darkness of his bedroom, the clock radio showing 3.23.

"Dean, what's going on?" he asks, running a hand over his eyes.

"You destroyed my marriage."

Four words and so much to unpack. First—since when is Dean's marriage not peach-perfect? Second—what the hell did he do? Third...

"You son of a bitch, why do you have to be so fucking beautiful? With those eyes and those hands and those lips? You don't even get half of my jokes. Why do I have to be in love with you? Fuck!"

Castiel is struck speechless. Where is all of this coming from, all of a sudden? Dean likes his looks? He always makes fun of his ill-fitting suits and his trenchcoat. And then, the second part...

"I fucking love you, man, and Lis knows. She's known for months and now she's gone. Taken Ben, and left me the house. She doesn't want anything. A whole year, and she leaves because I can't stop loving you."

Castiel doesn't know what to say. His heart doesn't know if it is supposed to grow because the man who holds it returns his feelings, or if it is supposed to break into little pieces because Dean is so clearly sad that he failed at being a husband and father, living the apple pie life. But maybe Dean is just out of it in grief and the booze mixes up the different feelings that Dean holds for him and Lisa. Yes. It's probably just that. No reason to raise his hopes over the ruins of his friend's marriage.

Castiel's heart clenches painfully in his chest with a wave of longing and sorrow that no human being should ever endure.

"So, you've got nothing to say, huh?"

Castiel moves his lips. It's hard to form words. But he has to. For Dean.

"Dean, you should drink a huge glass of water and go to sleep. I'll bring you a hangover breakfast and we'll talk. Okay?"

"Always so mature," Dean mutters. "I'm pouring my heart out. But I know. You could never love me back. I'm a mess."

Castiel swallows hard. "You're not a mess, Dean. You are strong and caring…"

"...and a good friend. Yada yada. I don't want to be strong, Cass. Or a friend."

"Dean, you're drunk."

"Still in love with you, buddy."

Castiel breathes a sigh. It's too late for such a conversation. Or too early. "Listen, Dean, hang up, and tell me this when you're sober, okay? You're wasted and probably won't remember a word come tomorrow."

Dean lets out an ugly laugh. "You hope. Sorry to bother you."

"You could never be a bother." Dean doesn't hear the reply. He's hung up for real, leaving Castiel looking at the barely illuminated ceiling until dawn dips his bedroom into light.

***

"Hey, Cass," Dean says in a gravelly voice, squinting against the sunlight. Castiel raises the bag with the breakfast. He doesn't dare say a word, worried about stumbling over each syllable and making a fool of himself.

Platonic love. That's what Dean was clearly talking about. Maybe Lisa was fed up with their closeness, with the single friend joining their family dinners too often, the way Castiel stared at her husband a bit too long and always way too intense.

Castiel spreads the food on Dean's dinner table, taking in the missing photographs on the wall and the half-empty DVD and CD shelves. His heart aches. Dean must feel empty, too. He loved Lisa, Castiel knows that. And Ben, her son.

They sit down and eat in silence. It's thick and heavy and Castiel can't remember a single time that it has been like this before. So many unspoken words, so many unasked questions. But what is he supposed to do? Supposed to say?

He pushes a package of painkillers over the table instead and watches how Dean's Adam's apple bobs when he swallows them down. He shouldn't look at Dean like this.

You destroyed my marriage.

It was probably things like this. But why did Lisa move out? Why didn't she simply demand that they give up their friendship?

"Because she wants me to be happy," Dean says, and with horror, Castiel realises that he has spoken the question out loud. Dean huffs a laugh. "I'm sorry, man. I never planned to say a word. Our friendship is too important to me."

"I didn't know you were gay," Castiel blurts out when understanding hits him like a baseball bat.

"I'm bi. Never talked about it. Most straight men freak out if they know."

Castiel takes a sip of his coffee. "And you thought I would, too?"

Dean shrugs his shoulders. "With your religious upbringing and all the no-sex-before-marriage stuff, I took a wild guess. It wasn't worth risking our friendship."

"I get what you mean. That's why I never told you I'm gay."

Dean's mouth falls open and he blinks at Castiel several times before he collects himself. "Okay."

Castiel smiles shyly. "So. You want to repeat what you said last night or…?"

Dean fidgets with the paper napkin before he runs it over his mouth. Castiel finds his nervousness endearing. He has seen Dean flirt easily with women everywhere, but here he is, cheeks burning crimson, unable to meet his eyes.

Castiel waits patiently but no less nervous than the man opposite him.

"I—" Dean trails off and Castiel's heart sinks. It had been the alcohol. He had meant it platonically. Fuck!

"It's okay," Castiel says. "I understand."

"No, you don't! Just gimme a moment."

Castiel nods and folds his hands in his lap. It's always better to let Dean work through his thoughts, to wait him out.

Dean looks up, eyes soft and unsure, vulnerable as Castiel has never seen them before. "I love you, Cass."

Now, Castiel's heart is bursting for sure, but he keeps the shell pulled tight. "Like a friend?"

Dean shakes his head. "The way I should've loved Lisa, but couldn't, because…" He gestures in Castiel's direction.

Castiel's lips curl up into a soft smile. "I love you too, Dean. Have for a very long time."

Dean sighs, the relief rushing out of his lungs. He nods and mirrors the dopey smile on Castiel's face. "Awesome."

Castiel grins. "Yes, indeed."

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

For the Sake of Science

summary: spencer finds himself thinking...like a scientist. he thinks about to the first time fell in love, but ended up scarred. he think’s he’s in love, but he first needs to carry out an experiment for the sake of science. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem reader

author’s note: i really hate writing summaries because it’s so hard to capture everything in one-two sentences. 

warning: spencer’s internal thoughts are a lot; vague sexual harassments

 For the Sake of Science 

Spencer Reid thinks that there must be something wrong with him. He’s nearly 30 years old and still can’t shake someone’s hand or welcome one of Penelope’s hugs. He knows he’s different, but this — this makes him feel like a freak. 

Maybe it was his childhood? Maybe because his mom couldn’t hold him or cuddle with him the recommended amount to develop secure attachment, he became touch averse. Maybe it’s because his dad left and he felt even more lonely with just his mom that the idea of being touched started to scare him. Or maybe it was the bullies — being stripped naked and mocked will do that to a kid, he thinks to himself. Or it could be even that he didn’t get his first kiss until he was 20 and the kisser being a boy, Ethan, threw a wrench in Spencer’s dreams of having someone who wanted to hold his hand in public or kiss him in the corridor and not care that people were looking. 

Spencer is a product of his environment. As a psychologist he tells himself that a healthy mix of parent issues, childhood torment, and being left by the first person he really loved would cause anyone to be insecure in physical relationships. 

But something has changed. He wants to hold someone's hand, and it doesn’t fill him with anxiety at thought. It doesn’t make him think of Ethan leaving him. It makes him feel light and floaty -- happy. Ever the scientist, Spencer decides to carry out an experiment on touch. And the subject of his experiment, Y/N, sits a couple feet away from him. 

Spencer couldn’t really pinpoint when he started feeling differently about Y/N. Maybe it was when he noticed when her grapefruit perfume changed to cinnamon and something warm. Maybe it was when he noticed that she got really quiet on cases that dealt with family annihilators and the lines on her face would seem a little deeper. Maybe it was when he realized that her touch was much different than JJ’s or Penelope’s. Her touch was a lingering sting that left him craving more. It was like she picked up the pen Ethan left and dipped it into ink to trace the scars of heartbreak on Spencer’s canvas.  

Her touch left him wanting more, needing more. Derek would tell him to ask her out. Take her to the movies and try to kiss her. But Spencer isn’t Derek Morgan, he’s Spencer Reid and hopefully that’s enough for Y/N.

________________________________________________________________

Spencer decides to carry out his experiment in the small kitchen that BAU shared with Sex Crimes. Like clockwork, Y/N walks from her desk to the kitchen at 9:34 to get a second cup of hot tea. She reaches up to the shelf to grab her cup that, much to Spencer’s delight, shared a spot next to his mug. He likes to look at the two mugs sitting next to each other and pretend that they aren’t shelved away in a small communal kitchen with a crappy coffee maker, but in their house, in their kitchen. 

He checks his watch at 9:31 and heads into the kitchen. Spencer stands there waiting for his coffee to brew, and an eye watching out for when Y/N would walk through to the kitchen. He almost feels bad for hiding her step stool. Almost, but if it means he’d be able to carry his plan out , he’d be able to forgive himself. 

“Hey, Spence. Isn’t that like your third cup in an hour?” Y/N says to him, smiling brightly. He moves the mug just slightly out of Y/N’s view. 

“Uh-” Spencer starts. “I, well you know me! I love coffee.” Spencer says nervously. 

Y/N looks at him, still smiling brightly. Spencer gives himself the benefit of the doubt, telling himself that she could be smiling at him, or even better because of him. 

“You need all that caffeine to stimulate that genius brain of yours, Dr. Reid.” She says  in a tone that Spencer could not decipher. 

He feels his face flush and warm at her using her honorific. Spencer reminded himself of his goal, to figure out if he really does love Y/N. Part of him knows the answer, and the other part of him is too scared to get left in the dust again. 

“Huh, that’s strange, where is the stool?” She says aloud, turning around to check the side of the cabinet for stool. 

Spencer, whose plan was panning out flawlessly, took the opportunity to reach on the highest self for his mug. It was a plain looking mug, dark blue with his name labelled on the bottom, altering anyone that it was off limits. Until now. 

He hands the mug to her in such a way that his finger tips would brush hers. Y/N’s surprised look melted into a pleased smile. Spencer does not want to let go of the mug, maybe it was a slight hesitation at the germs, or maybe it was him just wanting to keep her close for even a couple more seconds. 

“I think you grabbed the wrong mug, Spencer” She says, handing him the mug back to its rightful owner. 

“Hm, I don’t seem to see your’s Y/N. I guess maybe it-I don’t know” He says dumbly, this is the part of the plan that he was still a little unsure about -- talking to her. He turns, so his back is leaned up against the edge of the counter, so he hid her mug out of view.

“You don’t mind me using your mug, Spencer? Here I thought you wouldn’t shake my hand or even hug me?” She says with an amused tone in her expression. 

The only reason Spencer hasn’t tried to hold her hand or hug her is because he knows he’ll never want to let go. He’d be left again - cold and alone. 

“Germs don’t seem to be bothering me that much, Y/N” Spencer remarks.

“Hmm maybe it’s something about turning 30? Like you lose your germaphobia and start losing your hair?” She teases. 

And then the unexpected happened. Y/N reaches up and ruffles Spencer’s hair. Her fingertips graze his scalp and Spencer forgets how to breathe. He wants to lean down into the touch and fully appreciate her attention. 

“You know my birthday is coming up?” He asks. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, or maybe in some way Y/N remembers  his birthday. Even though Spencer couldn’t forget her birthday if he tried, the idea of her purposefully remembering his birthday is something that gave him those butterflies. 

“How could I forget the day that my favorite person was born?” 

“I’m your favorite person?” Spencer speaks. He could feel his cheeks heat as she looked at him like what she just said didn’t just nearly kill him. 

“Spencer, I’m pretty sure you are everyone’s favorite person. And well, only because Motel and Tzeitel are cats” She says with a wink, walking away with her hot cup of tea that Spencer didn’t even realize she brewed as he stood there. 

He’s her favorite person.  Her favorite person. Maybe this is going better than he expected. Maybe Spencer, a man of science, a man whose heart had been shattered one too many times would let himself have an ounce of faith. After all, he’s his favorite person’s favorite person. 

“Hey Y/N!” Derek calls as the team walked back into the bullpen, all very tired from the case. Y/N, who was ahead of Derek, but right behind Spencer and JJ, turned to answer her friend. 

“Whatcha going to do with Detective Dreamy’s phone number?” He asks, with a suggestive nudge. 

Spencer stopped his walk back to his desk. His bag bounced against his leg, he tried to focus on how many times his watch ticked, he tried his hardest to ignore this conversation happening behind him. But something kept him glued to the spot. 

“Huh? Oh you mean Detective Allen? Um, he’s uh...I don’t think it’s going to work out,” Y/N tells the group. 

“What do you mean, Y/N. Allen seemed cute, for a man I guess,” Emily says with an eye roll. Her comment elicited a small chuckle from JJ. 

“Yeah, and he’s a total pig head,” Y/N says, much to Spencer’s delight. 

The team looks at her with an expectancy to continue. Spencer turns to face his colleagues, who gather around Y/N. 

“He called me a and I quote ‘a fine piece of ass’ and that he ‘reckons girls with my job must know how to put out to get ahead’, so gross” She says, shivering at the thought. 

Emily and JJ’s eye rolls and small comments reassured Y/N that if she wanted Penelope could find that man in three seconds and tell his mother what animal she raised. Derek tells Y/N that he could pay Allen a friendly visit to remind him why he got into the FBI. Frankly, doors aren’t that different from a 5’10 man. 

Spencer sees red. There are times when he gets jealous of people who came and went in Y/N’s love life. He used to think that it was just a friendly protectiveness. He wouldn’t want JJ to get hurt by Will or Emily to get hurt by Natalie. But this is different. He feels mad that anyone would think that they could talk about Y/N like that. It’s not like he never thinks about her in less than professional scenarios. But they were usually thoughts about what noises she’d make or how beautiful her face would look like after he could kiss her as much as she’d let him.

If Spencer was a different man, a more confident, brazen man, maybe he’d pull Y/N to the side and tell her that she’s a brilliant agent. But Spencer still sees himself as that 22 year old who’s secret boyfriend left him for a gig in New Orleans. 

If Spencer was a different man, a more suave, smooth man, maybe he’d kiss her on the elevator ride to the car garage. But Spencer’s quiet on the ride down. He can’t even look at Y/N, he just sees his last chance of happiness flush down a toilet. 

If Spencer was a different man, a more assertive, romantic man, maybe he would have gone after Ethan. Maybe he would have chanced his chance at happiness, following the melody of the seductive jazz tunes, along with the pang in her heart. But Spencer thinks he just might let happiness slip through his fingers at the sad look on Y/N’s eyes as she leaves the elevator. 

She does something that stops his internal crisis. Y/N stands in front of Spencer as they walk together, but not together to their cars. Spencer swears to himself that even without his eidetic memory he’d never forget the look on her face. 

“Spencer, I um-” Y/N said, not making eye contact with Spencer. “I know that you don’t like to hug me or anything like that, it’s just I really need a hug right now,” she said, her eyes darting to the ground. 

Spencer doesn’t say anything, instead he wraps his arms around Y/N. He never hugged anyone besides his mom or Ethan. It’s very different hugging Y/N than it was hugging them. For one, she was much shorter and her smell was different too. Sweeter and lighter than Ethan’s cologne, but it had a familiar welcoming and safe aroma. He doesn’t really know what to do with his hands, so he settles on placing one to rub gently on her back and the other tenderly cupped her head. He holds her as he craved that she’d hold him. For now, it was enough to just be the person that she came to when she felt like the world was against her. 

“Thank you Spencer, I felt so gross and dirty from that asshat, so I just needed to feel like I’m not-” 

“A piece of um- ‘ass’” Spencer says, air quotes and all. 

Maybe it was the idea of Spencer cursing, but Y/N snorts at the sound of the unsavory word leaving Spencer’s lips. 

“A fine piece of ass, Spencer” Y/N counters. 

“Hey, Y/N you know that you don’t deserve that right, what I mean is that, you’re beautiful but that’s the least interesting thing about you,” Spencer says, taking his turn to stare towards the ground.

“Is that way you let me use your cup, Spence? You wanted to show me how you, uh, feel?” She questions, picking up his hand in hers. Her fingers traced the light lines on his palm. 

“Hmm, you saw right through me, didn’t you?” 

“I watched you hide the stool, Spence and you took my cup! You should have more faith in my profiling abilities” She says laughing. 

“I was carrying out an experiment, Y/N.” Spencer explains. 

“About what?” 

“Um, so you know that I don’t really like being touched, it’s been a thing for a really long time. But for you, I’d rather die than to never feel your touch,” he professes. 

“Hmm, well luckily for you, I think I can just make sure that doesn’t happen” She says, brushing his hair from his eyes. Her fingers graze over his cheeks, his eyes, his nose, and his lips. She’s careful in her touches. So light and tender, that she thinks he might break if she presses too hard or gives into everything she’s feeling. It’s so soft that Spencer has to strain himself to feel it. He moves his hands bravely to hug her waist.

Her light laugh breaks him from his trance. Maybe Spencer can remember what the poets were talking about when you hear the one you love laugh. Maybe he can recall what it feels like to be so important to another person. Maybe he can recollect what it’s like to have someone to call his and what it’s like to be someone’s someone. 

Both their hearts are beating so fast that they meld into one beautiful beat. He holds her cheek in his hand as she cups the back of his neck, her fingers latched onto his hair. If he gets a chance, he needs to ask her if she likes his hair, because between the ruffles and the tugging, he’s sure it’s a thing. He turns off the part of his brain that can never be silent, or at least as much as he could when Y/N is gently wrapping her fingers in his hair and looking at him like she wants to kiss him. 

“Spencer, um, you know for the sake of your experiment you should see if kissing elicits the same response. For science, hmm?” She reasons. 

“Well, I can’t fight the scientific method, can I?” Spencer says, before he leans in to meet his lips to hers. 

Y/N’s eyes flutter close as she presses her forehead against Spencer’s, who leans down slightly to reach her. Spencer feels dizzy with anticipation and a mix of pure euphoria. Her lips are softer than he imagined and she’s much more confident than him. She kisses the corners of his mouth, up his cheeks, and nose. It’s like she retracing the path that Ethan left open and raw. Her kisses heal him with the medicine of love and security. 

Spencer knows he would never be the one to break the kiss. Or any kiss that they would share, if he ever got so lucky. He never wants to let go. 

“Come on, Dr. Reid, I have an experiment of my own I want to try” 

As Spencer walks to her car, he thinks about how well her palm fits into his. He thinks about how those butterflies are uncaged and free. Those Ethan shaped butterflies morphed into Y/N shaped butterflies. This love was different, because after all, he was different now. And different, different is good.