#zero fucking answers or closure

[jungkoode]

FUCK ME UP | FRAGMENTS

˗ˏˋ polaroid memories ˎˊ˗

"It’s not like Taehyung meant to go looking for ghosts—he just wanted his damn charger back. Funny how the past never waits for an invitation."

⋆｡°✩ story details ✩°｡⋆

collection: HIDDEN MOMENTS (FMU)

wordcount: 3k

content: slice of life / character study, emotional intimacy, bittersweet nostalgia, found family undertones, quiet vulnerability, heavy emotional themes (childhood trauma, parental emotional neglect, implied domestic violence, implied emotional abuse and manipulation in past relationship), non-linear memory recall through photographs, friendship depth, character study on Taehyung’s perspective of Jungkook’s history, swearing, accidental emotional exposure, post-Mia timeline, roommate and found family references, charger theft as a plot device (lmao), soft but heavy tone with moments of reluctant humor

✧ author's note ✧

Hi hi hi!

Random drop of the week! I had this half-finished for a while now and I decided to sit my ass down and finally give it the closure it deserved. So here we are! I know I just made the public PSA about the unfortunate unvoting wave that took place recently, and how that pushed us into having to patiently rebuild towards Chapter 21’s original vote goals on WP again and Chapter 22’s current vote goal. I meant what I said when I promised I wouldn’t leave Kikizens hanging while that happens. I do have a few drabbles and smaller pieces planned while we climb our way back—this is the first of them. Consider it a little something to hold you over while we get back on track.

As always, Fuck Me Up isn’t an easy story to read, and it was never meant to be. It’s messy. It’s quiet when you want it to be loud, and loud when you wish it would just shut up. It sits in your chest in a way that’s hard to swallow sometimes, because that’s what trauma does. It doesn’t scream all the time. Sometimes it lingers in small things—a shoebox under a bed, a picture you didn’t mean to find, a moment when you realize you’ve known someone for so long that their past feels heavier in your hands than it does in theirs.

This is one of those pieces. It doesn’t give you the big emotional breakdown. It doesn’t solve anything. It doesn’t even really explain itself. Because that’s how memory works. It’s fragmented, it’s incomplete, and it rarely comes with all the context you wish you had.

So please read carefully. This one is soft in tone but heavy in weight. It’s not graphic, but it is deeply uncomfortable if you sit with it long enough—and that’s exactly the point. It’s meant to make you sit. To notice the silences. To feel the weight of the things Jungkook never says.

Thread carefully, take breaks if you need them, and remember: FMU has never been about rushing to the answers. It’s about sitting in the questions long enough to feel them for real.

⋆｡°✩ read more ✩°｡⋆

main story: fuck me up

read on ao3

read on wattpad

The box wasn't supposed to be there.

Taehyung glared at the battered shoebox tucked beneath Jungkook's bed, unearthed only because he was searching for that stupid charger his friend had ‘borrowed’ three weeks ago and never returned. 

Just like Jungkook to take his shit without asking. 

It shouldn't have caught his attention—just another cardboard casualty in Jungkook's chaotic unpacking system—but the faded marker on its side made his breath catch: ‘Before.’

He shouldn't touch it. Definitely shouldn't. 

But his fingers were already tracing the edge of the lid, that instinct from fifteen years of friendship telling him exactly what lay inside. Polaroids. The physical evidence of a childhood shared, preserved in chemical development rather than filtered Instagram perfection.

Whatever, he thought, sliding the box from its hiding place.

Jungkook had been living in his apartment for seven months—invading his space, eating his food, leaving windows open—so Taehyung had absolutely zero qualms about invading his privacy now that he'd finally moved out. 

Plus, Jungkook wouldn't be back for hours anyway—Thursday meant dominoes with that old lady downstairs he'd randomly befriended, which meant Taehyung had plenty of time to snoop before he'd hear footsteps in the hallway.

The lid came off with a soft scrape of cardboard. Inside, messily scattered (because of course Jungkook would never organize anything), lay dozens of polaroids. Different sizes, different eras, different cameras—but all carrying fragments of history.

He picked up the first one, sneering slightly at their younger selves. Two boys with chocolate-smeared faces, arms thrown around each other's shoulders. 

Taehyung remembered that day. 

His mom had taken them for ice cream after Jungkook's piano recital, the one where he'd played that Mozart piece perfectly but still looked like he might throw up from nerves.

"Such a neurotic kid," Taehyung muttered, tossing it aside to pick up another.

This one made him snort—thirteen-year-old Jungkook with that ridiculous bowl cut his mom had insisted on, looking ready to commit murder while Taehyung posed beside him with an exaggerated thumbs-up. They'd been at summer camp, three weeks of mosquito bites and midnight raids on the counselors' cabin and swimming in that lake that always smelled like something had died in it.

Taehyung sorted through them quickly, impatience mixed with reluctant nostalgia. There they were with their first skateboards, knees already scraped raw from failed attempts. There was Jungkook passed out on Taehyung's family couch, drooling onto the cushion during one of their weekend movie marathons.

Some polaroids were less innocent—sixteen-year-old versions of themselves flipping off the camera at that punk show they'd snuck into with fake IDs. Seventeen, passing a joint between them on Taehyung's roof, Jungkook's eyes squinted nearly shut as he laughed at something now forgotten.

"We were such little shits," Taehyung muttered, fighting the smile tugging at his lips.

But then his fingers closed around a polaroid shoved deep into the corner of the box, partially hidden beneath the others as if intentionally buried. 

It was older, definitely older—the colors slightly faded, its edges more worn than the rest. 

Eight-year-old Jungkook stood stiffly in what Taehyung recognized as the living room of the old Madison Avenue apartment. 

That pristine white couch. Those gleaming hardwood floors.

Unlike the others, there was no smile on young Jungkook's face. His expression was blank, controlled in that unnatural way children only adopt when they've been told very specifically to behave. 

Standing behind him, his father's hand rested heavily on his shoulder, fingers visibly digging in. The man's smile was perfect—white teeth, successful businessman, Upper East Side perfection—but there was something in his eyes that made Taehyung's stomach clench even now.

Mrs. Jeon stood slightly apart, smile equally practiced but eyes focused somewhere off-camera. 

The sleeve of her cashmere sweater rode up just enough to reveal the edge of what might have been a bruise on her wrist.

Taehyung's throat tightened. He remembered visiting that apartment exactly once. 

The way Jungkook had shown him around with rehearsed politeness, like a museum docent rather than a child in his own home. 

The hushed way they'd played, Jungkook constantly glancing toward the hallway whenever footsteps approached. 

The way Mrs. Jeon had flinched when Mr. Jeon came home early, the sound of his heavy shoes on the hardwood announcing his arrival.

He turned the polaroid over. On the back, in a child's careful handwriting: Family portrait, 2008.

Beneath it, in ink that looked more recent: Before.

"Fuck," Taehyung whispered, something heavy settling in his chest.

He set the photo aside and continued digging, finding more from that era. 

Nine-year-old Jungkook at Taehyung's house for a sleepover, wearing pajamas that were slightly too large—borrowing Taehyung's clothes because he'd arrived with nothing but the outfit he was wearing. Ten-year-old Jungkook with a black eye that his mother had explained away as a baseball accident, though Taehyung couldn't remember Jungkook ever playing baseball.

Then, a polaroid that made his breath catch. 

The two of them, maybe eight years old, sitting on Taehyung's bed. 

Normal enough, except for what was happening in the image. 

Jungkook was crying—not the dramatic tears of a child's tantrum, but the silent, shaking sobs of someone trying desperately not to be heard. Taehyung had his arm around him, looking young and scared and completely out of his depth.

Taehyung remembered that night with painful clarity. It was the first time Jungkook had told him, in halting, confused words, what was happening at home. 

‘Daddy hurt Mommy again. He said it was my fault for making noise during his meeting call.’

He hadn't known what to do except hold his friend and promise not to tell anyone because Jungkook had made him swear. 

‘Daddy says nobody would believe us anyway. He says everyone knows he's an important man and Mommy's just emotional.’

Who had taken this photo? 

Taehyung frowned, trying to remember. His own mother, probably, thinking she was capturing a sweet moment of childhood friendship without realizing what was actually happening. She'd always been annoying with that old polaroid camera.

The next few photos tracked the subtle changes as they approached adolescence. 

Jungkook after the divorce, the relief evident in his looser posture, his more genuine smiles. 

The day they'd painted Jungkook's new bedroom in the downtown apartment his mother had rented—both of them splattered with blue paint, grinning like idiots. 

The new skateboard Jungkook had saved up for, the first major purchase that was entirely his own choice.

There were gaps, of course. No photos of those months when Jungkook had withdrawn completely, refusing to answer texts or phone calls. Nothing from the year his mother had considered moving them to Seattle, a plan Jungkook had fought with uncharacteristic ferocity until she agreed he could stay in New York to finish high school, living with his aunt.

Taehyung set aside another image—sixteen-year-old Jungkook playing guitar for the first time, fingers awkwardly positioned on borrowed strings—and paused at what lay beneath it. 

This polaroid was different, taken with one of those newer instant cameras that tried to mimic the vintage look.

College-aged Jungkook in the early days with Mia. Her arm was wrapped around his waist, her smile dazzling as always. 

Jungkook looked...happy? 

No, that wasn't quite right. 

He looked pleased to be photographed with her, definitely, but there was something weird about it.

Taehyung hadn't noticed it then. Too caught up in his own freshman year chaos, too impressed by Mia's confidence and beauty, her senior status and the way she seemed to know everyone worth knowing on campus.

But looking at it now, he could see the warning signs. The way Jungkook's body angled slightly away from hers even as she pulled him close; the way his eyes sought the camera—sought Taehyung behind it—as if looking for reassurance.

More photos from that period followed, documenting the slow erosion of his friend. 

Jungkook getting thinner, shadows appearing beneath his eyes. Jungkook with Griffin for the first time, the tiny orange kitten cradled carefully in his hands, Mia's manicured fingers visible at the edge of the frame. Jungkook at some party, Mia kissing his cheek while he stared at something off-camera, his expression unreadable.

Then the photos stopped. 

A gap of nearly two years—the belly of the Mia era—before picking up again with what Taehyung recognized as the aftermath.

Jungkook on Taehyung's couch, Griffin curled on his chest, both of them asleep in the gray February light. 

The healing cut on Jungkook's cheekbone visible, a souvenir from that night they never discussed directly. 

Jungkook in the kitchen of Taehyung's apartment, attempting to make sourdough for the first time, flour dusting his black t-shirt. 

Jungkook and Yoongi in the campus recording studio, heads bent together over some project.

The newest photos were from the move to the current apartment. Jungkook and Yoongi hauling furniture up three flights of stairs, both red-faced and sweating. Jungkook assembling IKEA furniture with an expression of intense concentration. Griffin exploring the empty living room, his orange tail held high like a flag.

Nothing with you; the new roommate—sharp-tongued English major with the surprisingly good taste in music that Jungkook had been complaining about non-stop for the past month. The one who apparently gave as good as she got, based on the brief encounters you two had had. 

Taehyung sat back on his heels, looking at the scattered timeline of his best friend's life. 

The before. The during. The after. 

And now, whatever unnamed period they were in currently.

He picked up the family portrait again, studying the stiff posture of that eight-year-old boy. The same boy who had grown into the man who spent seven months sleeping on Taehyung's couch, who still sometimes woke up gasping from nightmares he refused to discuss, who used charm and physical attraction as shields against anything that might actually matter.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Taehyung's head snapped up. 

Jungkook stood in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to annoyance as he took in the scene: Taehyung surrounded by scattered polaroids, the family portrait still in his hand.

"Looking for my charger, asshole," Taehyung replied, making no attempt to hide the evidence. "The one you stole. Found these instead."

Jungkook's eyes darted from the photos to Taehyung's face, then back again. 

For a moment, Taehyung thought he might explode—might demand he put everything back, might refuse to acknowledge what Taehyung had seen.

Instead, Jungkook just exhaled heavily, dropping his backpack by the door and crossing to sit on the edge of the bed.

"You're back early," Taehyung said, more to fill the silence than anything else.

"Dona wasn't feeling well." Jungkook's voice was flat.

Taehyung nodded, filing away the name of this mysterious old lady Jungkook had apparently adopted. 

Another stray, like Griffin. 

His friend had a habit of collecting the vulnerable, though he'd deny it if confronted.

"I haven't looked at these in years," Jungkook continued, reaching down to pick up one of the polaroids—the one of them at the punk show, middle fingers raised defiantly. A small smile tugged at his lips. "Remember how that bouncer almost caught us?"

Taehyung snorted, relief washing through him. "You pulled some parkour shit over that fence. I thought for sure I was getting arrested while you escaped."

"But I came back for you," Jungkook reminded him, his smile growing a fraction.

"Yeah, after letting me panic for ten minutes," Taehyung shot back. "Asshole."

Jungkook's eyes drifted to the family portrait still in Taehyung's hand. His expression shuttered again, but he didn't look away.

"You know," Taehyung said, trying to sound casual, "you should get a new camera. One of those instant ones. Start filling in the gaps."

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. "Gaps?"

Taehyung gestured to the photos. "You've got nothing recent. Nothing with the roommie."

"Why would I want photos of her?" he snorted. "She would probably throw the camera at my head."

Taehyung rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right after calling you something in Shakespeare-speak that you'd have to Google later."

A reluctant smile tugged at Jungkook's lips. "She does that thing where she takes off her glasses first. Like she's preparing for battle."

"Wait, she wears glasses?" Taehyung perked up, filing this new information away. 

Jungkook rarely shared details about people unless they'd made an impression.

"Only for reading. Or when she's trying to look extra judgmental." 

"So basically all the time," Taehyung quipped.

"Pretty much." Jungkook started gathering the scattered photos. "She was reading something the other day—some poetry book—and I swear she quoted the entire thing from memory just to prove me wrong about a line."

"Sounds like she keeps you on your toes."

"More like keeps me from getting any peace in my own apartment," Jungkook paused, holding a photo of them as teenagers, all gangly limbs and bad haircuts. "You know what she did yesterday? Used the last of my coffee. The expensive stuff from that place on 6th. Then left a note that just said 'thanks for the donation to the cause.'"

Taehyung snorted. "What did you do?"

"Hid the coffee grinder, obviously."

"Mature."

"She started it," Jungkook said, sounding so much like his twelve-year-old self that Taehyung couldn't help laughing.

"What's her deal anyway?" Taehyung asked, trying to sound casual. "You've been texting complaints about her for a month but I still don't know anything except that she's an English major with—what did you call it?—'a vocabulary that could flay a man alive.'"

Jungkook shrugged, but Taehyung noticed he took a moment too long to answer. "I don't know much about her. She keeps to herself when she's not arguing with me about the thermostat or the dishes or Griffin sitting on her books."

"Griffin likes her?" 

Oh. That was interesting. The orange menace was notoriously selective.

"Traitor sleeps on her bed when I'm not home." Jungkook's tone suggested this was a personal betrayal of the highest order. "She denies it, but I find his fur on her comforter."

"You've been in her room?" Taehyung raised an eyebrow.

"To get Griffin," Jungkook replied too quickly. "She’s a freak, sometimes gets home late because she’s been studying or something, so. I have to rescue him when she's not home."

"Mmhmm." Taehyung didn't bother hiding his skepticism.

"It's not like that," Jungkook insisted, shooting him a warning look. "She's just temporarily living in the same space. Sharing a bathroom. Touching all my stuff. Using my coffee."

"Sounds terrible," Taehyung deadpanned.

"It is!” Jungkook tossed a balled-up sock at him, which Taehyung dodged easily. "It's just weird, that's all. Living with someone who's not you or Yoongi."

"Does she know?" Taehyung asked, gesturing toward the box of polaroids, particularly the ones from the darker periods.

Jungkook's expression closed off immediately. "Why would she? It's none of her business."

"Just asking."

"Well, don't."

They sat in silence for a moment. Taehyung knew better than to push when Jungkook put up those walls. More than fifteen years of friendship had taught him when to back off.

"You're good, though?" he asked finally. "Living there? With her and Yoongi?"

Something in Jungkook's posture relaxed slightly. 

"Yeah, it's fine. Yoongi's barely around between classes and studio time. And Phoenix—" He caught himself using the nickname, looking momentarily annoyed with himself. "She keeps to herself most of the time. Except when she's stealing my coffee or lecturing me about leaving wet towels on the bathroom floor."

"The horror," Taehyung said flatly. "How do you survive such trauma?"

"Fuck off." Jungkook's mouth quirked up. "Not everyone can be as perfect a roommate as you, with your extreme gratitude of allowing me to sleep on your couch."

"I was a delight to live with and you know it."

"Not even an inflatable mattress? Seriously?”

“You literally said you’d be crashing for two weeks max!”

Jungkook snorted, carefully placing the last of the photos back in the box. 

Taehyung watched as Jungkook slid the box back under his bed, noting that he didn't push it quite as far back as it had been before—leaving it just visible enough that someone might notice it was there. 

A small change, but potentially significant.

"Hey," Taehyung said, suddenly remembering. "We're still on for Saturday, right? That show at Mercury Lounge?"

Jungkook nodded. "Yeah, I'll be there. Might be a little late though—got a project due for Film Production."

"Cool." Taehyung hesitated, then added casually, "You should bring her."

Jungkook looked up sharply. "Who?"

"Y/N. Unless you're afraid she'd actually have fun and ruin your whole 'she's the bane of my existence' narrative."

"She wouldn't want to come," Jungkook said dismissively. "Besides, she's probably working or has some literary thing or whatever."

"So ask her." Taehyung shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. "Or don't. But she’s somewhat fun to be around, and I like seeing someone apparently capable of driving you even crazier than I can."

Jungkook rolled his eyes. "No one drives me crazier than you. You've had too many years of practice."

"And I'm very proud of my accomplishments." Taehyung grinned, tucking the recovered charger into his pocket. "So bring her Saturday. What's the worst that could happen?"

"She could murder me in my sleep after I make her listen to your terrible taste in music."

"Please, my taste is impeccable." Taehyung stood, stretching dramatically. "And if she murderers you, at least Yoongi and I can split your vinyl collection."

"Touch my records and die," Jungkook threatened. "And get out of my room."

"This is the thanks I get for letting you crash on my couch for half a year?"

"I brought you food. And cleaned your disgusting bathroom. We're even."

Taehyung flipped him off as he left, but there was affection in the gesture. 

Some things never changed, even after more than a decade. 

index

⋆｡°✩ taglist✩°｡⋆

@cannotalwaysbenight @taevescence @itstoastsworld @jimineepaboya @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7 @jkrailme @rpwprpwprpwprw @mar-lo-pap @jeontae @whothefuckisthishoe @mikrokookiex @minniejim @btstrology @vialattea00 @curse-of-art @cristy-101 @mellyyyyyyx @mimi1097

© jungkoode 2025

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[gamerwoman3d]

Pretend I'm Him 

Imagine secretly banging Kuai Liang before the shit hit the fan at Ying Fortress.  In the aftermath of the fallout, the grandmaster wants a word…

[My apologies to other genders - lady anatomy used, from the start this time. Additionally, you don't have to agree with what this reader character thinks: just understand her information has been filtered. She is not omnipotent. Her information about the fallout is limited to what her clan/grandmaster has said about those events.]

Tags: SOFTER Bi-Han.

[Yes this is MK1 Bi-Han x Reader]

[🔞Spicy/Explicit after the cut🔞]

Imagine this non-committal relationship with Kuai Liang that was supposed to remain a secret. Imagine sneaking out on the regular, just to feel his hot tongue on your clit. You learned every soundproof nook and cranny of the Lin Kuei stronghold like your lives depended on it, not because any threat to either of you existed here at home, but rather because if you were forced to go more than a couple of days without sex, you felt like you just might die.

And then there was some bullshit at Ying Fortress. You were already so pent up waiting for Kuai Liang to return. You knew it was serious because his brother, the Grandmaster himself, went with him to oversee the mission.  Your heart jumped for joy when you overheard that the Grandmaster finally returned, only to discover that Kuai Liang and their adopted brother were marked as traitors, and would likely never be returning to the fortress.

Sure, you were worried for Kuai Liang, for the clan, for the future. Hell, you even felt some concern for your Grandmaster's broken heart. And maybe you were a little scared for yourself: Kuai Liang wasn't the enemy when you were sleeping with him, but you did sleep with said enemy, and had some concerns about what that might mean for you if that fact was discovered going forward. After all, the Lin Kuei stronghold was your home. Its walls protect your friends, family, and your entire support network, all clumped together in this small community which calls the stronghold home. Their protection might be at risk if the clan begins to suspect you of colluding with a traitor.  But deep down, in your shadowy id, the second you heard the news, your initial gut reaction was "FUCK. WHAT AM I GONNA DO TO GET MY NEEDS MET, NOW?”

No one can blame you. Every day that Kuai Liang was gone was a day that you burned inside for the lack of him.  You were so excited when you thought he was coming home, so energized, so ready to extinguish the flames, so wet.  

What a fucking letdown. And it was days ago.

You stared at the blank encrypted messaging app on your phone. If you messaged him, and were discovered, it could be taken as an act of consorting with the enemy. If you didn't, it might seem to him like you didn't care. If you reached out, he might think you were stalking him to help your clan hunt him down. But the only way to stop overthinking it was to reach out and see what happens.

Kuai Liang didn't answer. You weren't being left on "seen" - it was as if he lost his phone entirely.

No closure. Fantastic. Could it get any fucking worse.

Your phone buzzed in your hand. Not Kuai Liang, as you had hoped, but your best bud. You answer on the first ring, only to be interrupted by your breathless friend's frantic whispering.

"Hey! Sub-Zero's looking for you. I dunno what's going on, but I gotta go.”

You'd rather be back in school as the kid walking shamefully to the principal's office. You'd rather be back at bootcamp pounding sand in freezing temperatures.  You'd rather be a deer stuck in the headlights of a speeding semi.

You snap to your senses and delete the encrypted app from your phone.  You straighten yourself up and do what you do best - Sneak out, and sneak around the Lin Kuei stronghold.

You hid for a minute to think, watching from the shadows as your Grandmaster's best people searched for you in an unobtrusive manner. Then, you decided to take yourself to him. His family's private domicile was far enough from yours that your immediate family wouldn't have to see or hear whatever went down. Maybe you could keep your secret a bit longer that way. Or maybe he'd murder you on the spot.

His back was to you as you approached the garden at the front of his home. He stood unmasked, and spoke to a pair of his men. The men each stole a glance at you, prompting Sub-Zero to turn and glance over his shoulder as he spoke.

He did a double-take.

He immediately dismissed the men, who walked past you as you strode up the walkway toward them.  With the whites of his eyes visible between the top of his bottom eyelid and the bottom of his brown irises, Sub-Zero's expression felt uncharacteristically soft as you approached.

"I heard that you wanted to see me, sir?" you questioned.

You held your breath.

"Yes. Don't be nervous, you're in no trouble," he said.

His voice sounded strange when he spoke gently.  It sounded strange without the muffled echo from the mask.  Both things being true at once, it was like speaking to a different person than the masked master of the training grounds. His voice wasn't the stinging gravelly growl that he used while in command. It was a husky, comforting sound, sprung from a genuine intent to calm and reassure your quivering heart.

With a wave of his hand, he invited you inside.  Someone brought tea, and he redirected it to an office in his house. Now life felt exactly like a visit to the principal's office, if upon one of the bookshelves was a photo of your shirtless lover holding your shirtless principal in a headlock.

Your eyes fixated on the photo of Scorpion and Sub-Zero. It was before Kuai Liang had the scorpion tattooed, but well after his biceps had formed into what they still are, today.  You wanted to say that you missed him dearly, but damn, you missed his body.  Staring at the divots along his obliques had you dying to feel them between your thighs once more.

Sub-Zero's eyes followed yours to the photo. For a millisecond, his eyebrows knit in pain in an otherwise bemused expression.

"Tomas took that photo... the little traitor.”

“What happened?” you asked.

“Mm. Mom called Kuai Liang to nag him over the phone. I can do a convincing imitation of him so I snuck up behind him and said ‘You can’t make me!’” Bi-han mocked.

You had to admit to yourself that his imitation in that moment was spot on. But you also forced yourself to keep quiet, even as the uncanny mockery of your lover's voice made you miss him even more.  

He continued.

“Immediately, we hear her squawking on the other end of the line, and he crushes his phone so hard in anger that the screen snapped. She always believed he actually said it and then hung up on her.”

The bemused expression faded from his face, leaving behind a pained gloss over his brown eyes.

“She was mad at him for so long. I deserved the beating he tried to give me.”

Sub-Zero reached out and gently turned the photo down upon its face before opening a locked file cabinet and rifling through its folders.  He gestured to the tea and to the seating, welcoming you to make yourself comfortable.

You thanked him, sat, and took a sip of the boiling hot tea that was served to you; it would have been seen as an act of enmity not to do so.  You held the cup for warmth and comfort.  Truthfully, the hard ceramic was stinging-hot and smooth to the touch... god damn. Must every little thing remind you of his touch. You pressed your fingers into the glazed surface to feel the sting on your fingertips, in a futile attempt to disengage yourself from the current reality. Your panic over the immediate future kept a strong hold on you, even as you wished to be back in Kuai Liang's arms.

Sub-Zero closed the drawer, keeping his eyes fixed on the papers of a file he'd withdrawn. It still wasn't apparent to you how much the man knew about your relationship with his disaffected brother. And the grandmaster had yet to state what he wanted with you. If you truly were not in trouble, does that mean he didn't know? Or was he secretly ready to send you back to the character select screen? You bit back your burning questions. Moments of excruciating silence passed.

"... Keep breathing," he instructed, trying to withhold a smirk.

You gasped a bit. You realized that you weren't just biting back the questions - you were holding back your breath.  Your breath hitched and shuddered as it fought to catch up quietly.  Sub-Zero waited until your breathing evened out to speak.

"You still haven't asked me why I wanted to see you. Do you already know?" he asked.

The question was bait. And you knew it. You shook your head and said no.

He nodded. 

"You're good. You are really good," he said.

You took the compliment in silent confusion.

"I think if anyone here could get to Kuai Liang, it's you," he said.

You swallowed. You broke a sweat.

"What makes you think that?" you asked, acting as though you were innocent of having had any prior connection.

He arches an eyebrow. At the same time he thumbs a piece of paper out of the file: a receipt from the pharmacist. The receipt showed that you were issued a few prescriptions: silver based ointment for blisters, and one slightly more embarrassing cream. You remembered needing it after a particularly hot experiment with Kuai Liang went wrong in the early days of your secret relationship.

You turn red, not when he shows it to you, but when he looks into your eyes with a cocky, knowing gaze. His eyes may as well have become the headlights; your secrets become the deer. The mess was just as bloody in your mind either way. You suddenly wish patient-provider confidentiality were a more sacrosanct part of Lin Kuei military tradition. But even if it were, the grandmaster likely had methods of extracting their information. Your heart pounded. 

He knew you'd fucked Kuai Liang. 

His voice stayed strangely dulcet, full of compassion and understanding when he next spoke. His words didn't match his timbre.

"When I read this, I came to the conclusion that you both got a little too fired up.”

"Not the puns, please. I'll go pound sand in the freezing desert, please no more puns," you thought.

You didn't mean to groan aloud at his terrible pun. It just kinda happened. You didn't expect him to soften and apologize so quickly, but he did.

"I am sorry to have brought that up. I truly am. I imagine it must have been painful, or at least deeply uncomfortable for you. To the matter at hand, let us both start by committing to being straightforward with each other. That will benefit the both of us, greatly. And now I will ask you, kindly, please do not insult my intelligence by feigning ignorance, and I will not insult yours by pretending I'm funny. Agreed?" 

“You said I wasn’t in trouble.”

“You’re not. Listen… I can't afford to make a mortal enemy out of someone who can sneak around my own home as effortlessly as you have. I had my best people searching for you, but when you arrived here, my guard was down. My back was to you. If Kuai Liang had asked you to kill me, you could have done it, right then.”

It’s true. Your eyes widened. Your thoughts were so preoccupied with whether or not he would kill you, that it never occurred to you that he could be worried about your own ability to kill him, let alone kill him in his own home at any time you desired.

He sat the papers down, cupped your face with both hands, and lifted until your eyes met his. This close, you could see the dark circles of sleeplessness form beneath his eyes. Something about the out of place strands of hair on one side of his bun made you imagine him awake all night, laying on the messy side.

“I just want to be able to sleep. I try to sleep each night knowing that on any given night, you could end my life if you wanted. I’ll sleep easier when I know where you stand. I’ll sleep much easier if I know you’re going to stay on our side. But even if you don’t, Kuai Liang is out there somewhere and I fear he is lost, suffering, and alone. I know I couldn’t stop you if you want to reach him and join his side. And even if I could stop you, I would choose to let you go, in hopes that someday maybe you can talk some sense into him. And no, I do not want to see any harm befall either of you. You are Lin Kuei. The Lin Kuei are my life. You have my word that I will continue to honor and protect your family and friends to the best of my ability if you decide to leave. But stay. Please. I would do anything for you to stay. So what is it? What do you want? What can I give you that will make you stay?”

Your face turned red between his warm hands. You hadn’t been touched by a man since they left for Ying Fortress, and your body had jumped to inappropriate conclusions beneath his touch. You couldn’t answer him. He studied your face. He shook his head and spoke.

“The only thing you want is him, isn't it?”

Well… maybe the only thing you wanted was sex. You weren't quite in love with Kuai Liang, not in the way that would have you abandoning everything you knew to join him in his fight against everyone who ever supported you. With Bi-Han’s firm grip on your face, you couldn't turn your head from your grandmaster. But you broke eye contact, casting your eyes down in shame from your inability to honestly answer that Kuai Liang was indeed the only thing you wanted. He wasn't.

“I don't want to die, and I don't want to break my oaths,” you said.

“You're not breaking your oaths. I'm willing to command you to go to him. To spy. To watch over him. To guide him and make sure he doesn't get himself killed in service to Liu Kang. You'd never be marked as an enemy, always welcome to return.”

Leave everything to go babysit a grown man? Hell naw.

“I don't want to leave…” you admitted it.

“Then look me in the eyes and tell me you are not considering running away to find him,” Bi-han gently ordered.

You turned your eyes as far away from him as you could. Logically, a man that breaks his oaths and abandons your entire community was not worthy of running toward. It should have been easy to tell Bi-han that there was no part of you that wanted to chase after Kuai Liang. But instead, you replied:

“I can't. The… the sex… was amazing. And the thought does cross my mind.”

As you said it, his breath stilled. Your words caught him off guard.

“So then it is only the sex that you want? Not the connection, the heart nor the soul?” he asked.

You certainly had not treated each other like soulmates. If anything, you and Kuai Liang had treated each other like fucktoys, and you both loved every minute of it.

“That's right,” you said.

Somewhere in your gut, you realized: if Kuai Liang had loved you, considered you his soulmate, or had even wanted to build a life with you, he would be here. He would have returned. He would have done anything to return to your side, including obey illegal orders. If he ever truly loved you, he would have at least considered joining his brother in betraying God Himself. But Kuai Liang had done none of that. He chose his path with no hesitation. He was gone from you now, and if you were honest with yourself, you always knew that the two of you weren't meant to last forever.

The thought brought angry, embarrassed tears to the brink of your eyes. You hoped you could bite them back for the duration of Bi-Han’s inquiry.

“And yet, you want it enough that you feel tempted to run to him. It burns so badly that you feel tempted to aid a deserter?” Bi-Han said.

Neither you nor Kuai Liang were serious about each other. At least not enough to label each other or go public with your fling. That's why you both kept it a secret. You should have told your Grandmaster all of this with your words when he asked if you wanted his brother's sexual services more than his heart and soul: but you said it all with a cringe and a silent nod.

Yes, it was only the sex that I wanted. Not his heart. Not his soul. you silently admitted.

Bi-Han’s face twisted into a quizzical pout, not dissimilar to a look you'd seen on your lover's face in the past when he silently sought solutions as he worked through problems in his mind. The silence lasted too long for comfort; you could sense him figuring out what to do with you. His brows flashed with the strike of an idea.

“Pretend I'm him,” he said.

“What?”

Your mind jumps to a scenario where you pretend that Bi-Han is your lover and act out all the fantasies you'd saved for Kuai Liang's return. You felt perverse: it felt wrong to assume you'd been ordered to *treat* Bi-han in the same sexual manner that you would treat his brother. Surely he didn't intend for you to imagine Kuai Liang while he pleasured you in the deepest most erotic methods. Even allowing yourself the briefest glimpse at Bi-Han through a carnal lens proved devastating. One glimpse was all it took to deeply appreciate his shoulders, his eyes, his strength, his agility, his voice, his highly regimented grooming habits. Good god, you marveled at what he could do to you if he wanted. Was he really suggesting himself to be your lover? A stand in?

Imagine the Grandmaster reducing himself to the role of a stunt cock, just to keep you loyal to the Lin Kuei. Erotic thoughts banished the angry tears back into whatever well from which they sprung.

You were certain you couldn't have understood him correctly. Maybe he meant “imagine what I'd do if I were in his shoes planning my next move” or something.

You asked him to repeat himself, to clarify his orders.

“That was an offer, not an order,” he said, “I'm at your disposal. I meant it when I said I'd do anything to have rest assurance that your oaths still mean something. Use me however you wish. Make me sneak away with you if that's what excites you. I won't make you keep me a secret, yet if you desire it, I'll take our secrets with me to my grave. Whatever you want from him, I'll do my best to provide you in his stead.”

“You're offering… sex?” you asked incredulously.

“If that interests you, then yes. Whenever you want him, whenever your desire for him burns away your strength, leaves you weak, needy, or desperate enough to leave us, I want you to consider coming to me first. You won't have to explain yourself, and I do not expect you to banish all thoughts of him.”

Words failed you.

He allowed the uncomfortable silence to linger a bit too long.

He inched closer, hovered over you where you sat in a small but growing puddle of your own wetness. His face lingered near yours, his breath against your flushed cheek. You pressed your knees together. He murmured toward your ear, in a hauntingly familiar mimicry.

“Pretend I'm him,” he said in Kuai Liang's voice.

He continued to warp his timbre to mimic his brother's softer, hoarse intonation. And, for the first time in your life, you dared to interrupt him.

“Does that interest you? If not tonight, then later-” he asked.

“Tonight. Tonight, please,” you whispered.

“As you wish,” he said, perfectly mocking his brother's voice.

He leaned in until the bridge of his nose almost met yours. He stilled himself. His gaze invited you to make the first move: cognizant of the amount of power he held over you, he required a great deal of assurance that you truly wanted to do it. He let his warm thumbs caress your cheeks as he waited for you.

You shut your eyes, pressed your lips shut, pressed the shut lips against his, and kissed. He kissed back.

His lips were different from Kuai Liang's. They were firm, fitting. Kuai's lips were supple and plump enough to surround yours when kissed like this. Bi-Han’s lips could only give yours that surrounded feeling by parting just enough to gently suck your kisses, while gliding his tongue against them to tease them open.

You trembled, imagining what this sensation would feel like on your clit. You whimpered into the kiss despite yourself. You couldn't imagine this kiss as one of Kuai Liang's; Bi-Han’s kiss tasted like minty whitening gel and expensive honeyed tea. Kuai Liang’s kiss smells like smoke, tastes exactly like one might expect that a man who breathes fire and eats pussy should taste like. It was too different. It was Bi-Han. You were letting the grandmaster slip his honeyed tongue into your kisses, and into your dreams; You couldn't let yourself pretend otherwise.

You remembered the way you would melt just to feel Kuai Liang breathing. How you'd melt to feel his hands on your back. How you'd feel to be enveloped in his embrace. Bi-Han’s body was not so comfortable as Kuai Liang's. You remembered Kuai Liang's thick arms felt strong but pliant. You held Bi-Han’s biceps in your hands. They felt more like polished mahogany, stiff, smooth. The density of the man's arms was unlike what you were accustomed to; but the feeling raised your temperature.

You pushed back on his chest, pulled yourself away, and broke the kiss. He let you break the kiss, and waited for you to explain.

“Do you still feel okay?” he asked.

“Yes, it's just different.”

“Is it too different?”

“You taste different,” you said.

“What should I taste like,” he asked.

Fixated on the thought of his tongue on your clit, you bit your lip and parted your knees slightly from muscle memory. You were remembering times when Kuai Liang tasted like you in the moments after he tongued open your pussy.

When you didn't answer his question in words, he studied your body language, noting that your legs were no longer pressed together. Fear of impropriety forced you to hide this sexual part of yourself from your grandmaster for as long as you could remember.

“Ah,” he said as if reading your mind, “is that where you want me?”

“Yes, yes I want you there, but with kisses. Kisses please. I want your kisses, there. I need you to kiss me the way you did just now, only, down there,” you finally answered, keeping your eyes closed for the duration of your confession.

“You like my kisses that much?” He asked.

The sound of a smile painted his voice.

“Mmm-hmm,” you answered, “I like your kisses, I haven't had any kisses since you left for ying fortress…”

Sub-Zero realized your statement was true whether you were pretending to address him as Scorpion or not - either way, you haven't had any play since “he” left for ying fortress. He let his hands wander along your hips, stroked over your belly below the naval, just to watch you squirm.

“That sounds rough. No kisses, none at all?” he teased.

“Nooo, none! What about you?”

He shifted into his natural, gravely tiger-purr voice to whisper an answer.

“I can't speak for him on that topic, but for me it's been a long while. A lot longer than Ying Fortress.” he confessed.

Part two link here

To See My External Masterlist, Click Here

[divatakesontruth]

https://www.tumblr.com/divatakesontruth/781416286548787200/thanks-to-the-shit-you-and-other-nd-blogs-spread-i?source=share

“let me say it now: You won’t get whatever you want and if that is your goal, you are wasting your time“

FINALLY someone said it directly!!! FINALLY no more beating around the bush like Koda did “ohh I’m not the one who says what is and is not possible” “ohhh you are limitless” “ohhhh anything is possible” “you are god, but nooo, that’s not the poiiiiint”. FUCK THAT. Nothing will change, there’s nothing to change, the “dream” will keep playing wether you like it or not. Does the dream suck? Too bad, just enjoy the show cause “hey it’s not real either haha”.

Thank you!! This answer will finally give closure for those who still believe that ND is gonna make them see through the illusion and play the movie the WANT instead of just accept things how they are.

DON’T go to manifestation spaces, yall will just waste your time (and money if you are dumb enough) if you go there.

Thank you, Diva, for being direct and clear (too bad someone had to pull up a bullshit absurd story for that to happen). Btw I loved your answer cause it serves for anyone who might think like this anon, but I doubt this story is real. It’s probably someone trying to piss yall offs and get a reaction so they can, somehow, use it against you.

Koda is right tho(if she ever said that), however such discussions should only be enforced and had by people who understand the true nature of reality

It reminds me of realitywarping’s posts , a lot of people look into it with an LOA mindset and they don’t see the perpetuation of the desire and reality if not understood from a certain perspective.

When you know yourself to be nothing but awareness,the cans and cannots fall away, there is literally zero labeling cause nothing is inherently real , or possible/impossible

I believe Koda’s pinned post touches on that

You don’t see it, but your ask subtly enforces a reality to the seeming separate world, very very subtly , especially with your use of “accept”, that implies there is a less than ideal situation happening to a separate self and is simultaneously taking this situation as real.

There is no world to begin with

However people who come here with the pure purpose of changing their life won’t, they’ll never succeed;that is taking the dream life to be serious and separate, the literal opposite of non duality

But yes you’re right ,that person was 100% trying to get a “got you!” Moment and it painfully backfired

[samsayswhatever]

maybe it's just me that's not seeing it, but chelsea saying that zero drug would make her get action with her brother/sibling doesn't also apply to lochlan, instead of only saxon? i mean, it's a consensus that he's a people pleaser, but to what extent? like, i can't understand the ideia he just interacts sexually with saxon to purely please him, and is devoid of any attraction. i understand the confused feelings, and the feel that they violated boundaries between each other... but i also don't think saxon being overly sexual in lochlan's presence is the only answer for lochlan's response for their kiss etc. somethimes i think we can be underestimating lochlan awareness of his own self 🙃

So I agree with the idea that there is no drug in the world that would make me (or anyone) get with their sibling in a sexual context. So I think it definitely applies to Lochlan too!!! Not enough (if any) people talk about this, and now that you say it, I totally agree that it's evidence in my book that Lochlan likes Saxon as more than a brother.

The thing is, as wise as Chelsea is, she is still able to say false things. She is a fictional character, and it's up to us as the audience to believe what she says. I personally don't have any degrees in pharmaceuticals, and we don't even really know what drugs they took, so there is a chance I'm wrong, and there is a drug out there that can do that. So the people who think the drugs have that kind of power aren't necessarily wrong, I just don't agree with them. Some people, including Sam Nivola himself, have said that Lochlan only participated in the threesome because he's a people pleaser and he was "fucked up" on drugs. His statements imply that it wasn't just the drugs, but also his need to please which stems from a need for love. And this ties into the theme in the show of "how far would you go" for your needs and/or desires to be met.

Jaclyn goes as far to cheat on her husband, Rick goes as far as to make up a bunch of lies about being a producer and point a gun at a strangers head, Piper flies her family across the world, Tim steals his wife's medicine and a gun, and Lochlan jerks off his brother.

So then the next question, was it a need or a desire? Did Rick NEED to face his fathers murderer to get closure? If he didn't do that, he'd probably be stressed the rest of his life, and maybe his life would be cut short. So it wasn't an immediate life threatening issue, but it was a major issue. Does that mean it's a need? Where is the line?? I think that is something this show is very interested in exploring.

(7 paragraphs about love, sex, drugs, sex work, needs vs desires, and somehow the dalai lama below)

So to continue the example, did Lochlan NEED his siblings love? Couldn't he have gotten his love elsewhere? Or would love from friends, lovers, or strangers not matter, or not be enough? How fast would his life go down hill if he tried to live a life where he wasn't loved? Would he even make it through college? Will he even make it through the next episode when he thinks he doesn't have love? To me, love is a need, and I would die quite quickly without it, so I can easily imagine Lochlan needing love so badly that he would do anything for it.

Sex workers around the world jerk people off to afford their needs, and they have for a long time. It's human. This season isn't as interested in explicit sex work, but the Russian Aleksei slept with Laurie for the chance to extort money from her. That money might be fore desires or needs, or maybe both. But if they are going to kill people in the next episode over it? Maybe it's a need. idk. So, yeah, I think it's very possible for a person to have sexual relations without sexual desire. I also think it's possible to have sex with someone you sexually desire, but also have other motivations for choosing to have sex with them in that way and at that time.

However, I think that Lochlan and Saxon desire each other as more than brothers. There are so many parts of the show that treat Lochlan's and Saxon's glances, actions, facial reactions, and choices as stemming from sexual and romantic desire. And that they would desire each other without the drugs and alcohol. And I personally think that if they chose to love each other, and got to the point of meeting each others needs, that they would still love each other as more than brothers. Maybe it started with a need, but it became a desire.

In my parents house, they have this poster, and as a kid, I would read it over and over thinking I would eventually become wise. We don't have time to get into why this is problematic, but look at number 17.

It says, "Remember that the best relationship is one in which your love for each other exceeds your need for each other." And I think this applies to Lochlan and Saxon. I think in an ideal fictional world, they would love each other more than they need each other. And that would be amazing.

I'll probably write another post about this poster and the show, because it really ties into a lot of the themes.

But yeah, I think that people who say that the drug didn't make Saxon participate in the threesome, but don't think that about Lochlan are being hypocritical. And that is a very good thing you spotted, and pointed out, so thank you for that.

I might be misunderstanding your last line there, but I agree that Lochlan has self awareness. He's a quiet character who doesn't have his identity crisis in front of others the way Saxon and other characters do. So I understand why people might think Lochlan doesn't have self awareness because he doesn't talk to any other characters about being self aware. However, that's not a requirement for self awareness. I think a lot of the camera work and acting makes it clear to me that he's having incredibly complex thoughts. Such as when he looks in the mirror at the start of ep 2 after he see's his brother naked in bed. And it's clear to me that he knows he desires his brother as more than a brother.

Anyway, thank you so much for your thoughts!!

[skiitter]

hi skitter! i saw your last post wrt solavellan and wanted to share trick's answers from bsky.

i'm not trying to invalidate your feelings about the endgame, but imo it's very clear that solas had to have this closure from mythal or he wouldn't be able to move forward.

Hiiiii! Yeah I've seen em. Tbh I think the end game world states should have been one of two. Either the Mythal ending, or the Solavellan ending. If you have a Solavellan world state, then the conversation with Mythal shouldn't have gone down the way it did. It totally undercuts Lavellan's importance in Solas's growth as a character. In a world where he didn't love her, and they were never together, than Mythal remains the moral center and foundation of his character. She took a spirit of Wisdom and leveraged his loyalty to her against her own pride. Every action from then on, Solas does in her name, especially once the Evanuris kill her. And yes, I know they have a disagreement where she doesn't help him dismantle the Evanuris, but that's because Mythal is the centre of HIS personality, not the other way around.

But, in a world where Solavellan is the default, then Solas went through a much different character growth arc. Yes, he fundamentally ends up in the same place, but the whole point is that she taught him his value as just Solas the person, not this recurring regret. She showed him the possibility of a future. Solas, of course, saw himself and the echoes of his relationship with Mythal, and did not want to repeat the past so, in combination with this alternative future Lavellan represents, he pushes her away.

Lavellan literally says this, that she was the one person capable of getting through to him. Its a big part of why she is SO crucial to his story. Their entire romance is built upon this idea of seen and being seen and understanding someone even if you don't always agree with them and accepting that they are who they are. Mythal quite literally forced Solas to change on a fundamental, core level from Wisdom into Pride. And while Lavellan (rightfully) challenges his beliefs, she does so from a place of equality and respect. They respect one another. And that respect is fucking shat on in Veilguard tbh.

If you do not set a worldstate for Inquisition, than Solavellan IS the default. Therefore, it is expected that many players, esp new ones, will see this relationship play out. Therefore, it is not a leep imho to expect SOME representation of Lavellan's importance to him in the literal embodiment of his past and his regrets that is the Lighthouse, the Crossroads, and the entire Mythal statue/Wolf statue quest line,

She quite literally comes up in One Line of dialogue Rook can have with Solas, and that's it. Which, fine, he's been lying to Rook since the beginning, so why would he say anything to her. But to have this obvious and distinct absence of Lavellan in the place he lived, in these rooms where he stores his fucking belongings, is insulting. To compound upon that, Lavellan does 100% of the work in this game when it comes to them.

We get one (1) codex letter that he wrote her right before the ritual. That is the only time they interact At All outside of the end game. This total lack of interaction stems from the much larger problem that is the absence of the Inquisitor at all, Solavellan or not. I will die on the hill that it makes zero sense for the inquisitor not to be actively and specifically involved in finding and stopping Solas. Them just Vibin' in the south when the blight hits makes zero sense.

I'm ranting, I'm sorry. I'm just so upset about this. Lavellan comes to him at his lowest point and says, once more, "i am here, i see you, you are not alone. together, vhenan" etc. etc. and solas just says No. Now, look, I get how crucial Mythal is. I see the parallels, but in a world where he loves Lavellan, than it should be HER opinion that undoes him in the end. Because that's the point. "I would not have you see what I become" Because her opinion is based on the understanding and mutual respect that the share.

Mythal is no longer his keeper. he's no longer bound to the version of Solas she forced him to become. So while I think she serves a purpose in the Solavellan ending, it should be Lavellan that saves him. Because that's her whole point. The whole essence of it. I'm not saying I'm capable in any capacity of writing a better ending, I just know a better one should have existed.

I am not trying to come off as rude or ranting at you, I'm just ranting. I (and so so so sos so sosososo many others) waited a very long time for the pay off to this relationship and I'd rather have absolutely nothing at all than this weird version we got where Solas treats her like a passing fling that dilligently follows him into the fade without a second thought. As if she wouldn't once more challenge him to be the version of himself he actually is. He shows her no respect and she shows him all of it. The inequality of it all kills me.

iUHGLSUHSDHG sorry. This is so long. I will shut up now.

[georgegraphys]

Wasn't gonna talk about F1 today and continue posting Erling and football stuff but...

The fuck is his problem?

It is ONE thing to acknowledge that Logan Sargeant might not be the best driver in Formula One but it is ANOTHER thing to say unnecessary things like this.

I don't fully know the context and I hope someone can educate me on the context better. Like was he asked about this that prompted him to answer the question with such an answer or was he just simply being a bitch? But nonetheless, there are millions of better ways to answer a question without such a statement. Provoked or not this is rude as fuck. Unless he got baited, he is still a dick for this type of answer.

Me or you don't need to be a Logan fan to know that this statement is unnecessarily stupid and bitchy from James Vowles. Logan is still his driver. What the fuck with the continuous disrespect? Does James Vowles know that regardless of the performance or merit his employee brings to the team, it is still HIS job to give respect to his employee? Because it is literally his decision to bring Logan in to the team for 2024. He can't be a dick to his own choice. That's stupid. If he wants to boot Logan out of the team then do it since 2023??? But instead of doing that, he pulled the angelic caring dad-figure TP bullshit PR move. Instead of also bringing closure to Logan's future in F1, he kept playing unnecessary mind games, being arrogant, continuously disrespecting his employee, thinking that his F1 team is an important big team when they currently have nothing except the remnants of their past glory? They can never return to their glory if they keep this arrogant act up. "Oh Ari but it's the leader only-" a leader reflects on how the institution works, he leads the team, his behaviour reflects on the organizational behaviour and culture. If he fails to set the right example to a basic human respect and has a basic human decency, don't expect him to be able to apply it on his team accurately.

I can't think of any great team principals right now. But I can only think of one thing.

This man. He acts like he can guarantee a 100% bounce back for Williams and he acts like he 100% did everything for Williams when he also fed on Jost Capito's hardworking. This arrogant man really thinks he is Pep Guardiola or Jose Mourinho type of boss who can jump shoot a team to success. Someone needs to humble him up. He has zero business to disrespect anyone on his team while acting like his team is the BIG championship winning powerhouse team that they are currently not. His team is still considered a backmarkers and he is doing all this already? Wonder how he'll act when Williams starts being in the middle or on the front row?

To any JVowles shooters out there that might be angry with my rants? Today, he did this to Logan. Tomorrow, it could be your driver. Just because your driver is currently in his good graces, doesn't mean this mf will never pull such shit on them. He would. Maybe one day. Who knows? It's behavioural.

Just because Logan Sargeant is NOT performing well or up to Formula One's standard, DOES NOT mean this mf can speak like this. "Oh but it's harsh tru-" Harsh truth is said directly to the person involved, public humiliation and saying these things to the media is a pathetic act of cowardice. James Vowles gives no respect to one of his employees and he'll do the same thing to another person in the future. Why so? If you can't give bare minimum respect to one person, you'll fail to give others the same thing. No matter how big or small

[loserfurry]

Can hurt no comfort fans/writers explain why the fuck they like it??? Srry if this sounds aggressive, I just don't get at all. I won't be mean if you answer I'm just mad rn.

Rant under cut. Content warning: hurt no comfort hate

I fucking hate hurt no comfort. I know that not everybody irl gets a good ending but with fake stories it feels wrong. If a story is all/mostly hurt and the ending is hurt and pain with absolutely zero closure I feel unsatisfied. I long for justice for that character, and if it's not given at all I'm left frustrated. Idk how ppl can read it and enjoy it and feel satisfied by a story like that.

[booksandchainmail]

oniisama e, episode 36

despite everything, life goes on

weird to think that next year at Seiran there'll be all these new students who never knew Sainte-Juste

it's just summer break now... this whole story takes place in like three months

what the doctor is saying here seems promising: "you were discharged recentlyish so I'd like to do more frequent monitoring if you're not too busy" is not what they say if you're dying

I think Kaoru had come to terms with her own death. She's always seemed very focused on living her life to the fullest in a way that makes me think she didn't expect to have much time. She threw all her energy into a single (apparently very achievable) goal, to accomplish something concrete with what she had left. And also I think to try and help Rei, to get her closest friend to a healthier place for when she couldn't be there anymore.

and now she's outlived Rei, who was always flirting with death but still had an entire life ahead of her. And I think probably there was some sense of closure for Kaoru in the idea that she would join her soon.

but now it seems like she won't. she's going to live. which means she has a whole life to figure out, one without Rei

anyways.

they should put a better railing on that overpass

Takashi is absolutely right. The Ichinomiya's are mourning Rei like their daughter in a way they never treated her before.

incredibly fast turnover in that apartment if someone's already moved in two weeks later

... what

... a couple... ok i guess

majorly sideyeing henmi for that age gap

people keep attributing positive qualities to Henmi that aren't really demonstrated because he's mostly not actually in this show

incredible drama points to Kaoru for sweeping of an entire yukata in one motion and then just standing fully naked outdoors for a bit

also, what the fuck is going on with her? until I'm given an answer I'm going to assume it's the thing from Claymore where they all have an open wound full of demon across their entire torso

Nanako providing zero useful context to her parents

cigarettes as incense for Rei is surprisingly appropriate

....does Fukiko know about Kaoru and Henmi? It feels like that would be very relevant to her whole deal

the shadowed void here is hilarious. Show is real committed to not showing whatever is up with Kaoru's chest 23

ok, so just a missing breast... that's not as horrific as this is treating it

ah it's the cancer implications...

that's actually really effective, it lets the show have the clear visual indicator for these shocking reveals, while avoiding the implications of making a purely-cosmetic disfiguration the cause of Kaoru cutting herself off from a future with Henmi

still funny the way they don't actually show it

[mjonthetrack]

shine

CHAPTER 55: No Turkey, Just Cold Cuts 📴💔🥩

It had been three weeks.

Twenty-one days.

Five hundred and four hours.

Since she blocked him in broad daylight like a felony charge, and Xavier? He’d been in hell ever since. A dark, lonely country-ass hell with no biscuits, no peach cobbler, and zero damn mercy.

The team had questions.

“Why he hit that tackle like it stole his girl?” “Why he runnin’ routes like he dodgin’ child support?” “Why he look like he’s bout to fight the ref?”

Because he was, in fact, moody as fuck.

He was growling at practice. He was throwing helmets. He was snapping at his teammates like their audibles came with attitude.

Coach had to pull him aside, “Son, you playin’ angry.”

Xavier: “Ain’t mad, Coach.” Coach: “Well you playin’ like a man who just lost his woman and his grandma’s cornbread recipe.”

He was bumping into people on purpose. Testosterone? Blasting through his veins like it had an aux cord and was blasting Boosie, Kevin Gates, and pain remixes back to back.

He scrolled her socials like he was studying game tape. Blocked. Blocked. Still blocked. Even that burner account with the random handle got iced out.

And the worst part?

She looked good. No. She looked dangerous.

Posted up in her stories with the lil Dior thong waistband peeking? Casual lil mirror pic with that “I know I’m fine and unbothered” expression? Streaming herself whoopin’ dudes in Red Dead Redemption while her gloss shimmered under LED lights?

This man was in the damn trenches.

Waking up hard with no access. Going to sleep pissed with no closure. Eating grilled chicken dry cause he couldn’t taste anything anymore—not even his mama's mac and cheese.

He tried to talk to Russ. That went left.

Russ: “You want me to tell my wife’s baby sister that the man she blocked in HD is out here acting like he needs a love letter? Boy if you don’t—”

He paced. Fumed. He swore she did it on purpose, showing up to that Knicks game in that just to block him while looking that damn good?

Janelle had him looking like a golden retriever locked out the house in the rain.

“She wanna deny me a kiss? I can eat that.”

“She wanna act unbothered? I’ll let it slide.”

“But she gonna walk ‘round with my damn scent on her skin and still ice me out?”

Big bet.

Because now? Xavier Legette wasn’t playing no more.

He was in that locker room, jaw tight, curls wild, knuckles taped.

One of the rookies asked him if he was good and he damn near barked—

“I’m fine. Tell whoever callin’ plays to let me off the leash.”

CHAPTER 56: Mamas & Block Lists 📱💅🏾💣

Xavier knew what time it was.

He done been iced out like leftovers three holidays deep, watched her post thirst traps like it was her full-time job, and had to sit with the sick realization that she wasn’t even mad—just done. Petty. Cruel. Deliciously evil. And fine as all hell.

But he wasn’t no amateur.

She might’ve blocked him on everything, but his mama? His mama was unblocked and unproblematic. So what did he do?

He called in the big guns.

“Ma, I need you to let me use your phone.”

“What you need my phone for, boy?”

“Just…lemme get it for five minutes.”

“You ain’t callin’ no hoes on my line is you?”

“…No ma’am. Just one.”

RING. RING. RING. RING.

And just when he thought she wouldn’t answer—

Click.

There she was.

Face glowy, silk press bouncy like she just got it wrapped last night, lips glossy like a Fenty ambassador. She had one AirPod in and a cup in her hand, lounging on her couch in a cropped tank and satin shorts. And that expression?

Straight disrespect.

“Hello? Who is—” Pause. Her eyes narrowed. She squinted like she saw a rat in her pantry and not this fine, 6’3” country gladiator with dimples and an attitude.

“Boy bye. Get off my phone.”

She rolled her eyes so hard they almost did a U-turn.

He had the audacity to smirk, still posted up shirtless, laid back on his mama’s couch like he was the most innocent man alive.

“Damn. So I gotta go through the family now? Blocking my number like I’m spam or somethin’? That’s how you do me, Nelle?”

She leaned into the camera, her accent wrapping around every syllable like a silk scarf, “You still talkin’? You not tired yet country?”

“Tired? Hell naw. I’m just gettin’ started. You over there blockin’ folks but you still wearin’ my jersey. That’s crazy.”

“Boy don’t make me block your mama too—”

“Block her if you want, you still gon’ see me in person.”

She sucked her teeth, about to hang up, but he leaned in with that low, rough voice:

“You don’t gotta unblock me, baby. I’ll just keep findin’ new ways to reach you… same way you keep findin’ new ways to stay on my mind.”

Click.

She hung up immediately but the damage was DONE.

Now she pacing around her condo like he ain’t just speak straight into her ovaries. Meanwhile Xavier?

He sat back, handed the phone back to his mama, grinning all cocky:

“Appreciate you, ma.”

“You get what you needed?”

“Oh yeah… I got her pressed. Real good.”

Chapter 57: “Location, Location… Obsession.”

Janelle didn’t even mean to be that fine stepping off that private plane. She had on this white linen two-piece set, crop top tied at the front, and shorts that rode up just enough to make a man miss a step. Her big curls were tucked under a Dior scarf, edges laid like fresh pavement. She had the nerve to be wearing her brother-in-law’s sunglasses and a pout that screamed don’t talk to me unless you fine or family.

And Xavier? That man was pacing back in Carolina like a rabid bloodhound with a grudge.

Three weeks and some change of silence. Three weeks of her posting neck-up selfies, soft life vibes, and playing Red Dead Redemption like she wasn’t the reason he was out here losing sleep and scrimmages.

But when Janelle posted a boomerang of her drink clinking with Ciara’s on her close friends story—a video with Bob Marley playing in the background and a caption that read, “blessed & highly moisturized 🇯🇲☀️🍹”—he caught something.

The goddamn geotag.

“Montego Bay, huh?” he muttered under his breath, zooming in on the reflection in her oversized sunglasses like a CSI agent.

That was all he needed.

Now Xavier had a cousin on the team plane who knew somebody in Montego Bay working security at a resort. He was pulling strings, favors, and God’s good grace like it was a playoff.

Meanwhile, Janelle was none the wiser. She was poolside in a green metallic bikini that looked like it was sewn onto her skin. Her belly ring glimmered. Her thighs gleamed. She was glowing like summer came early and stayed just for her. Ciara was recording her doing slow body rolls to the beat of “Toast” by Koffee while little Future ran past with floaties on.

Russ came over with his dad voice in full effect. “Aye. That bikini look regulation, or you tryna give my teammate a stroke?”

“Relax, Russ,” Janelle said through a lazy smirk. “Ain’t nobody worried about your little teammates.”

And just as she said it?

A shadow passed overhead.

A tall one.

She looked up.

Hat low. Dreads freshly retwisted. Shoulders broad. Tank top clinging to sweat and muscle like it was painted on.

Her jaw clicked into place. “You gotta be fuckin’ for real.”

Ciara turned, squinted behind her glasses, then damn near choked on her drink. “Wait… is that—?”

“XAVIER?” Russ barked. “How the hell you get here?”

Xavier just grinned, hand on his hip like a dad who finally tracked down his rebellious daughter at the mall. “Didn’t appreciate bein’ blocked, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dripping with country thunder. “So I came to talk in person.”

Janelle sat up straight, her tongue pressed to the side of her cheek. “You must be bored as hell. You flew international just to get ignored in 4K?”

He didn’t even flinch. Just took one slow look at her—legs crossed, skin glowing, sipping passionfruit rum like sin in a cup—and said, “You think I forgot what you taste like?”

Her cup wobbled.

Ciara made a sound like she just got slapped.

Russ turned to walk away mumbling “I don’t get paid enough for this shit—”

And Janelle?

She blinked once, twice, swallowed, and said with a smirk, “You must be thirsty then, huh?”

He tilted his head. “Dyin’ of it, baby.”

And that was the problem. 'Cause this wasn’t no game anymore. This was war.

Chapter 58: “Get Me Outta Here, Sis.”

Janelle’s whole body went stiff like the Bluetooth in her brain disconnected for a second.

This man was not only in Jamaica—on vacation with her family—but had the nerve to smirk like he didn’t just cross international waters off one petty blocking.

She slid her shades down the bridge of her nose real slow, eyes burning holes into Xavier’s cocky-ass grin as he stood poolside like he was the guest of honor.

With one last blink, she turned her back to him, slapped her drink down on the pool ledge, and slid onto the daybed right next to Ciara like she was a regular degular vacation baddie and not mentally short-circuiting.

Leaning over real low, she whispered with deadly calm: “I let this man eat my cookie twice. He wouldn’t kiss me at his game I snuck into—in disguise—so I blocked his ass, and now he tracked me like a bloodhound with a scent… this muthafucka crazy, get me out of here.”

Ciara snorted into her margarita. Loud.

“Girl?!” she choked out, glancing toward her husband to make sure he didn’t hear.

“I’m so serious,” Janelle hissed. “I blocked him, iced him out like Elsa, and this fool flew international, talking bout ‘you think I forgot what you taste like’ like that’s not a FELONY.”

Ciara dabbed at her eyes, wheezing. “You done activated the country demon. You let a man built like a linebacker with a tongue like an Olympic swimmer go downtown twice and expected him to let you disappear?!”

“I wanted him to be mad,” Janelle muttered, adjusting her top dramatically. “I didn’t want him to be… federal.”

Meanwhile, Xavier?

He was still standing there like the ghost of sexcapades past, watching her every move while sipping a Red Stripe like it wasn’t 89 degrees and tension thicker than patty crust.

Russ came back with a towel and a fresh bottle of water for Ciara and immediately clocked the tension.

He looked at Xavier. Looked at Janelle. Then said under his breath, “This some Tyler Perry shit. I ain’t got time.”

“Thank you,” Janelle snapped, then turned to her sister, grabbing her arm. “Please. Hide me. Tell him I left. Throw a towel over me. Push me in the pool. Do something.”

But it was too late.

Xavier made a slow stroll to the pool bed, sunglasses glinting, tank sticking to his chest like sin. “Ladies,” he said, all drawl and low heat. “Mind if I borrow her for a sec?”

Ciara immediately lifted her glass. “I’m blind. I can’t see anything.”

Russ was already halfway to the cabana muttering, “I got kids here…”

Janelle glared up at him from behind her lashes, lips parted. “You got a lotta fuckin’ nerve, cowboy.”

“I got a lotta feelings, sweetheart,” he said, already reaching out his hand.

She stared at it.

Then stared at him.

Then, to everyone’s horror—and lowkey excitement—she took it.

And just like that? She was on her feet, snatched up like she’d just lost a bet, being pulled through this five-star resort like a damn scene from a slow burn enemies-to-lovers novel on crack.

[burningvelvet]

to cope with my post-binge blues from watching black sails, i just finished the treasure island audiobook. it's my first time with any treasure island media - now i have to watch the muppets movie. any way here are my thoughts:

- i knew the character of trelawney had to be based on the romantic era edward john trelawny of byron/shelley fame and I WAS RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! sources: WONG, AMY R. “The Poetics of Talk in Robert Louis Stevenson’s ‘Treasure Island.’" A Sandison Robert Louis Stevenson and the Appearance of Modernism

- i know that black sails isn't fully intended to be a perfect prequel or meant to be taken as filling in all of the gaps to treasure island but i'm still going to compare & contrast the two lol

- billy spending his whole life obsessed with flint and having alcohol withdrawal induced hallucinations about him. OMG. and i'm shocked that they just casually dropped that he visited flint in georgia to get the map like did flint request to see him before he died, was it just about the map, or did he want closure about the whole thing, did billy seek flint out, why didn't they kill each other, how the fuck did that whole thing go? i need more information dammit

- saw another post on here talking about how in black sails flint has that speech about the drunk guy named flint asking his grandpa for rum before disappearing into the sea and then in treasure island we find out flints last words were asking a "darby mcgraw" for rum before he died SO IN THE BLACK SAILS UNIVERSE DARBY IS HIS GRANDPA and so im wondering DID FLINT 1.0 EVER EXIST AT ALL OR WAS IT SIMPLY FORESHADOWING ALL ALONG but at the same time it doesnt matter because the black sails creators said the ending is intentionally canonically up to interpretation and black sails canon and treasure island canon dont match up any way but still it gives us so much to think about bc we never canonically find out who the fuck darby is

- the doctor is the funniest character ever and him giving zero shits about billy or silver is hilarious LMAO

- rly enjoy the descriptions of the contents of billy's pockets and chest. i love old shit and that whole nautical aesthetic ugh. im currently wondering about the significance of the five sea shells billy had (jim wonders abt them too) if they were souvenirs from the island or what... but we never find out!!

- and what the fuck was up with those black spots I NEED ANSWERS! It worked on Billy but not Silver?

- having grown up on PotC i'm very enthused at the references (the song, the rum, "dead mens chest," etc)

- wish we saw more of jims mom, she was lowkey a badass for a moment there telling everyone off and willing to face the wrath of the pirates with her son lol

- love how the men just take jim on for his valour and then decide to make him a cabinboy and the mom just gets a replacement son to help her around the house lmaoooo i wonder if that was a common thing for single women to do though?

- long john silver has a sort of jekyll/hyde personality (btw the author stevenson also wrote jekyll/hyde for those of you who dont know!) - also why the fuck did they leave him to his own devices toward the end and not have a gun on him 24/7 like? i was also shocked that he didnt run off with all the gold only some of it. most chaotic character ever

- my biggest questions are why did black sails take out the alcoholism and the sea shanties? but importantly the alcholism - if they were going for gritty, as they were? flint and billy's alcoholism is integral to their characters (defines their characters actually) in the book as contrasted by silvers moderation & thats rly interesting. and the lack of singing is just boring - pirates rly did have sea shanties - however i can understand for time constraints per episode and whatnot them taking out the singing for practicality - but the alcoholism again is integral to those characters as well as being historically accurate and realistic & would have added a lot imo

EDIT: immediately after posting this i realized that since there are a few years between the treasure burial and flint's supposed death in georgia, he could have become a drunk in that time if we're creating a black sails to treasure island timeline, and billy wouldn't have become a drunk til later on since black sails is set roughly 20 yrs before treasure island.

HOWEVER - by the talks of it in treasure island, and all the pirates referring to flint as a drunk etc., it would still seem that flint was always that way when they knew him, prone to drinking... but at the same time i guess you could say all the characters are jollier than in black sails as indicated by their singing and their more stereotypical piratey ways.

however i still think the alcoholism & addiction theme would have added an extra layer to everything especially after flints sad drunk scene with eleanor. also in toby stephens deep fathoms interview he said flint is essentially like an addict when it comes to his delusion & desires. anyway i digress

transcript here, audio is on youtube: https://www.justsaypodcast.com/blog/2018/12/18/transcript-interview-with-toby-stephens-of-black-sails

[treezxu]

1. have to address this cause i saw you said you ship venti with dorian i LOVE that. what the hell is their dynamic tho LMAO cause venti silly as hell (affectionate)

2. KITSUNE SUCROSE SAVE ME i literally. okay its a Super Basic Theory that shes literally just. an anemo kitsune. points at yae. drawn back ears, no tail (most of the time), catalyst user, and we are NEVER TOLD what sucrose actually is, all were really told is that she is not a cat like diona. (if i remember correctly, but my point is i dont think we ever get an actual answer). she lives in mondstadt cause it feels homey cause its the land of wind!!!! and she made friends there!!!! i would die for sucrose okay…. (i also made a joke theory thath has zero evidence that each region has their own elemental kitsune lol but that was sooo long ago idr who i even assigned lol)

3. okay one of my little aus was of course. okay. i should clarify. Dont Like Draff. dont like margaret either shes taking advantage of diona it drives me mad. get that kitten outta there. anyways in one of my aus diona runs away and stows away on a ship to inazuma and gets picked up by yae who likes her spirit and diona gets a good mom and lives in inazuma i literally didnt think farther than that LMAO

oh and also diona finding whoppy in one au and they become buddies 🫶 little mimic kitty flower. catmint. they r best friends.

(anyways fuck draff and margaret dont like em dont like the way they treat diona idk why half the fandom thinks margaret is like a mom to her if margaret cared she wouldnt let a TWELVE YEAR OLD serve ALCOHOL to CREEPY PERVS WHO ASK HER TO MEOW AND TRY TO TOUCH HER EARS AND TAIL i will fight margaret in the cats tail back alley come fucking get me woman)

-cross

VENDORIAN OKAY OKAY SO BASICALLY YKNOW THAT LINE VENTI HAS WHERE THEY SAY "what is freedom if demanded of you by a god?" YEAH SO LIKE. THAT. AND DORIAN WHOS CONVINCED HIS ONLY POSSIBLE WAY OF LIVING IS TO KILL AND REPLACE THE "BETTER" ONE (albedo) SO HES NOT FREE AND LIKE EVEN IF HE SUCCEEDED HE WOULDNT BE FREE HED BE FORCED TO PRETEND TO BE ALBEDO WHICH HES NOT VERY GOOD AT TBH... VENTI SHOWING HIM ITS OKAY TO BE HIS OWN PERSON... Venti being silly and playing their lyre and convincing dorian to chill out while dorian tails them places and reluctantly puts up with their shit and venti opens up about themself and dorian tells them about his own life. durin and dvalin paralleling dorian and venti. just them getting closure together and at first dorian is super reluctant but he warms up to it and venti gives him dragon therapy and he plays music with venti (friendly reminder ventis lyre is what stopped durins rampage.... imagine it had a calming effect on dorian)

I LOOOVE THAT... (i wonder who the kitsune could be for liyue and fontaine) her being a silly kitsune.... omgggggg i love that

DIONA YESSS i ddont like draff much either and frankly mondstadts tendency to employ children (bennett, fischl, klee, diona) is a little odd but. yknow. i like that a lot

WHOPPY AND DIONA..... Thats so funny bc i made a list of mond characters and how dorian felt abt them and she was in his hate section LMAO he has beef w his sons best friand,,,

[hermetiqa]

Hello! First of all thank you so much for performing the readings for me🤍 Here’s my feedback for the readings!

1- the person that it wronged me was someone from my teenage years. You got it right! Also they never apologised to me because they think they did nothing wrong to me.. even if they suddenly apologised to me which is so unlikely since I cut off contacts with them, it is too late and also not needed.

“They might have manipulated you in some way, something that's related to your emotions and maybe even something you're passionate about” yess that’s so accurate! They manipulated me emotionally and gaslighted me to do things that I must do, but actually I am free to do whatever I want, but they couldn’t accept that I didn’t have the same vision as them.

Also it is so accurate that when I have the closure I am more vocal about my boundaries! It is something that I worked out for a while. I found stability in myself and I am very patient with myself, since nobody had that patience with me then I got it from myself.

“Just because you said it doesn't mean that it was real” I like this part so much because they were projecting their life experiences to me and instead of acknowledging that my life and theirs are just different they keep pushing their ideas to me. I hated it so much.

For clarification, this person is not my ex or something, just an official stranger that I would usually talk with. We weren’t even friends so they feel entitled of having a saying over me made me so mad and frustrated.

The last part of this reading does resonate so much because I will welcome only the people that respect me and love me for who I am. I refuse to let random people in my life from now and on.

Also it is something that I am currently manifesting.

I am sure that I almost got closure and will never see my past ever again. That person taught me how I will never let anyone tell me what I can or cannot do because they wanted their version of me that is not me.

2- this confirmed what I knew! And you are absolutely correct that at that time I indeed was hopeful and curious of their answer. This is the same person that I was mentioning previously.

From their personality I was sure to receive insults from them because I was an ungrateful bitch or something but at the end of the day I am glad I never received their answer.

“You need to learn to heal without receiving anything. You shouldn't ask them for "closure" that you deserve because if they really wanted to give you this, you should've had it by now.” I actually I didn’t have any high hopes to receive anything for every connection that I ended. So this part didn’t really resonate with me. For “closure that I deserve” I mean let my past self rest for good. I was tormenting myself because of past experiences, that’s what I meant. I am sorry that I didn’t clarify that.

“I can also see here that if you received a response to your letter, there's a tendency that you won't be able to walk away from the connection.” This is true. If at that time I received their insults then I would be so mad that I would have a hard time to process everything.

“You might wait for them (again) and be patient with them. This person already betrayed you.” I am not waiting for them, heck no lol. But this person did betray my trust. I have zero patience for them and if I have them in front of me I would slap their face for manipulating a fucking teenage me and be the worst guide ever.

“This person has strong masculine energy here and you might've felt safe around them and emotionally connected at some point, but your connection was draining, whether you noticed it or not and whether you admit it or not.” They are a man yes! I did feel safe to tell some of my personal issue because I was looking up to him as a guide and teacher and not someone that would manipulate me because I was disagreeing with his points😃

I don’t remember if I put that much effort in that connection but it did drain my energies the last years that I was talking with him. It seems that I trusted the wrong person from the very beginning but whatever lol.

“Your spirit guide prevented you from receiving an answer to your letter because you've already went through a lot in this connection and you're better off without them.” Yes that’s accurate! That was what I am being told and actually what happened behind my back. I guess I am blessed for not receiving their letter.

These two readings resonated with me 80%! If you practice more I am sure that you will be a very scarily accurate reader! You most of the time did guess right! Your intuition is very good!!

Thank you for your energies and did overall enjoyed my readings🤍

Hello! Thank you so much for the feedback. I'm so sorry to hear that not everything resonated with you, I was trying out a different way of doing the readings when I did the free mini readings. But still, I'm glad you enjoyed your readings! Again, thank you for the feedback. You're such a sweetheart and I appreciate your feedback. It's so detailed!! I wish you well <3

[fluffydeoxys]

ok i said to myself i wouldn't answer tags like this from here on but fuck it. i wanna for this and this is interesting (I think) and I like what devicecontact has to say (as always) sooo eheee

(just to clarify its not because i don't like answering tags, but I just feel annoying whenever I do it LMFAO)

I still need to play the rest of ULTRAKILL (oops maybe I should stop drawing so much) but I've done a lot of reading and have known about it for a while and it was pretty integral to the creation of Zero (WAR is a big song for her after all!), but funnily '...LIKE ANTENNAS TO HEAVEN' and War without Reason feels like a bizarrely fitting song for the Arena player.

Sure a lot of the details specifically pertain to 1000-THR but "NONE WERE LEFT TO SPEAK YOUR EULOGY. NO FINAL WORDS, NO CONCLUDING STATEMENT. NO POINT. PERFECT CLOSURE." it's genuinely perfect to me. In my eyes, the Player was dead the moment they enmeshed the Mandatus. They're gone. There's no eulogy for them, no mourning. No final words. No concluding statement.

No point.

Perfect closure.

Funnily 2-S: All-Imperfect Love Song also inspired some story elements about Zero. Though personally what that stage says is something that means a lot to me in general.

Heehee thank youuuu. I still need to work on it (I specifically have worldbuilding in mind outlining how grunts literally work/are made) but to me, I know (or think?) Hank was a 'person' at some point, but to me he's a machine. Like literally. Flesh and blood and metal and wire. But he's something more, something grander. Entangled with the world, the machinations that keep churning. Keep Nevada's heart beating, blood pouring through the Other Place. The Machine's fuel. The Maker's sword.

If u could see my face rn LOL I was like "r u serious why didn't I think of that its literally perfect" thank you. thank yoooouuuu this is a perfect fucking idea. I want to update my tumblr banner soonish and this is literally the perfect idea for it.

A dance only they understand. Blades sing and blood burns. Til death do us part. Funnily you could also consider 2BD the "composer" of that. To him, Hank and Zero are his muses, I think. For what? Idk. being a weird old man

I'm drawing this . I will post it later because the sketch already is cracking me the fuck up

and thank you so much for liking her!!! Genuinely it means so much. I really love what you do + your doodles of her mean so much to me and I look at them on my phone a lot. So it means a great deal coming from you :3

[lovecla]

FAVORITE KIND OF NIGHT ; HUGHES, SLAFKOVSKÝ

PAIR jack hughes x fem!reader, quinn hughes x fem!reader, juraj slafkovský x fem!reader, ex-cole caufield x fem!reader

SUMMARY when you found out your boyfriend of two years had been cheating on you the entire time, you do what every girl does when they get cheated on: you fuck his best friends.

WORD COUNT 5,5k

WARNINGS taboo content, cheating, foursome (f/m/m/m), p in v, unprotected sex, degradation, mention of stomach bulge, creampie, double p in v, rough sex, manhandling, dirty talk, humiliation, subspace, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), gagging, dacryphilia, brief aftercare.

FROM ME TO YOU my loves, listen to your clara very carefully: if you do not agree with ANY of what’s written here, please consider not reading. this is just a silly idea i had a few days ago and i wanted to write about it. i have zero intentions of offending anyone: this is pure fiction! none of this is real! anyways, thank you @cyberhughes for listening to my naughty thoughts about this plot and for having my back. love you juni baby, this one’s for you <3 and for those who are still here, have a nice reading!

𖧷

on that lonely night, said it wouldn't be love

but we felt the rush (fell in love)

it made us believe it was only us

THE THING about being a hockey girlfriend is that you will, most certainly, get cheated on.

When you first heard that, you thought it was just bullshit— not all men are the same and all of that. Some people were just unfortunate to have shitty boyfriends, but not you.

Or at least that’s what you thought before watching a viral video of your boyfriend of two years kissing three different girls at a party.

The video was blurry, and maybe if you were a little bit more naive, you wouldn’t have noticed that the man eating those girls’ lips was, in fact, Cole Caufield, the man you swore to be the love of your life.

“Maybe it’s not him, Y/n,” your friend said, voice soft and gentle, as she put your phone down and locked it. “Cole wouldn’t do that… right?”

Right, you want to say. Of course he wouldn’t do that.

But you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to lie and betray your own trust. You sat there, on your couch, thinking about what you were going to do.

Your relationship was public, Cole had already posted pictures of you several times over the years, but now, so was the fact that he cheated on you with not just one girl, but with two more.

Now, everyone knows that you got cheated on, and that you weren’t an exception to the Hockey rule.

“‘s okay,” you sniff, cleaning your nose with your sweater’s sleeve. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t, really, but what else could you do?

Truth is, even though you love— loved?— Cole a lot, you had been feeling a little bit weird. Cole didn’t seek you anymore, he didn’t look at you the same way he used to do when you first started dating.

You thought it was just the fact that he was tired and feeling responsible for his team’s recklessness, but clearly, it wasn’t just that.

Days passed after the terrible, awful video, and even though you hadn’t spoken to Cole in probably two weeks— he was away and you couldn’t bring yourself to answer his texts—, you wanted to break things up with him in person.

“Why would you do that?” Your friend asked over the phone, and you sighed.

“Because I’m better than he is,” you say. “And because I need to get closure.”

“I guess you’re right,” she sighs, and then she’s quiet for a few seconds. But, “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” You ask, rolling to your side. “What is it?”

“There’s going to be a party at Zegras’ place tonight,” she says. “Heard Cole shit ass is going.”

“Who told you that?”

“I was talking to one of his new buddies, and he invited me to the party. Said I could go if I kept my mouth shut to you,” she scoffed. “I thought about telling him to go to hell and then telling him to fuck himself but I thought it might be more useful to pretend I wasn’t going to tell you anything and then tell you everything.”

You chuckled. “Yeah. We’re going, then?”

“We so are going,” she giggles. “I’ll bring the eggs.”

“I’ll bring the flour.”

𖧷

THE PARTY looked more like a frat party than anything, which lowkey disgusted you.

You knew the majority of the players were young and still in their teenager mindset, but whenever you went to a party, it usually had more decorum than whatever this was.

The music was so loud you couldn’t hear your friend talking next to you. People were grinding against each other like they were in heat and ready to fuck in front of everyone, and the room had a strong smell of marijuana and cheap beer.

You rolled your eyes but focused on your reason to be there: find Cole, break up with him and maybe even embarrass him in front of all of his friends.

You tried to warn your friend about where you were going, but since the music was too loud, you just signaled to the door on your right. She nodded, and you moved around the room, feeling with your feet the way the floor shook with the song’s thrumming.

Fortunately, you didn’t have to walk much. Cole’s stupid ass seemed to have forgotten to close his room’s door, and now you were staring at the 5’8” man you thought was going to be the father of your kids, kissing another girl.

“So, this looks really fun, huh?” You said, closing the room’s door, and suddenly, all of the eyes were on you. Cole’s included.

“Y-Y/n, what,” he stutters, removing the girl from his lap and getting up. “What are you doing here, baby?”

“No, what are you doing here?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, feeling yourself start to burn with anger. “Weren’t you supposed to be in New York?”

“No, you see—”

“Is your name New York, sweetie?” You ask the girl who was previously kissing him, who looks like a scared, little kitten. Little does she know you’re not going after her— you couldn't care less about her. “Uh, I guess not.”

There were at least eight other people in the room, sitting there and goofing around. But now, all of them looked like they would pay a hundred thousand bucks not to be in Cole’s shoes.

“Y/n—” he tries again, reaching for your arm.

You step back, flinching away from his touch. “Don’t fucking touch me, Cole. You’re fucking sick. I hope y’all have fun,” you hiss, turning around and heading towards the room’s door again. You look over your shoulder, watching Cole’s sorrowful face. “Enjoy as much as you can, darling. I know his dick won’t make you happy.”

You leave the room with fast steps, not before hearing Cole’s so-called friends laugh out loud with your words. You could feel yourself burning with anger, which made you happy. You thought you were going to feel destroyed, sad and depressed when you confronted him about the fact that he cheated on you regularly.

But after seeing his pathetic expression and actions, you realised you weren’t the one who should be feeling that way.

Your legs were moving on their own, and when you noticed, you were on the second floor, barging in another room, opening its door with full strength.

Only to blush even more, this time not with anger, no.

“Oh, hey there, Y/n. Where’s the fire?”

Jack’s sarcastic tone made you hold the door’s handle tighter, and when you looked around, you felt like a fish out of its tank.

The room was poorly lit, only the yellow light from the lamps reflected on the dark walls of the room, making the environment seem more intimate than it really was.

There were sofas along the room, and low music was playing, probably coming from one of the cell phones.

Because not only Jack Hughes was there, but his oldest brother, Quinn and Juraj Slafkovský.

You didn’t even know Quinn and Jack got along with Slaf, yet there they were, sitting and chatting with each other like they weren’t all rivals during the weekdays.

They laughed with Jack’s little remark before Quinn said: “You can come in, we don’t bite.”

“Unless you want to.” Juraj was the one who said this, to your ultimate surprise, and you rolled your eyes, doing as they said and getting in, closing the door behind you.

“Dude, come on,” Jack laughs. “She has a boyfriend.”

“Not anymore,” you say, for the first time since you opened the door. You eyed the drink cart in the corner of the room, taking full steps towards it and opening the first bottle you say. Whiskey. Great. “I just broke up with Cole, actually.”

There was a second of silence before you heard some clapping behind you, which made you turn around and stare at the grown men sitting across the room.

“What’s this clapping for?” You ask.

“It was about time, Y/n, what the hell,” Juraj says. “Guy’s been cheating on you for months.”

“And you guys didn’t think of, I don’t know, maybe give me a heads up?” You ask, sarcasm pouring out of your mouth while you pour the alcoholic drink in the glass sitting on the wooden surface. Then, you walk until you’re sitting beside Quinn and Juraj. “Would’ve been nice.”

“Sorry,” Quinn says, poking your shoulder. “In my defense, I wasn’t around enough to know he was cheating.”

“In my defense,” Jack starts. “I don’t like him.”

“In my defense,” Juraj finishes, opening his legs and resting his arms behind his head. “I couldn’t do it, because I would’ve been called a homewrecker.”

You almost choked on your drink. “What?!”

“You know I’ve been wanting to fuck you for ages now,” he sighs, like he’s tired of saying that; like he’s been saying that for a long time now. “But you can’t exactly fuck your homie’s girlfriend, can you?”

“Word.” Jack says, leaning forward to fist bumping Juraj. Quinn only chuckles and you can’t believe your eyes.

You’ve known all of them for basically the same amount of time, and you liked them a lot. Jack was a little, teasing shit, way too different from Quinn, but he was funny and so were his brothers— hanging out with them was always fun.

Quinn was private but sweet, probably one of your favorite people in the league. His soft spoken demeanor had made its way into your heart and was now stuck there, for the rest of your life, probably.

And Juraj was an old friend, someone you knew even before you started dating Cole— he was the reason you and Cole got together in the first place.

So hearing that one of your closest friends wants to have sex with you is weird, especially because he had just confessed that in front of two other men.

You stare at them, incredulous. “What are you even talking about?”

“Come on, Y/n, you can’t be this oblivious,” Jack grunts, and you tilt your head, confused. “You didn’t notice the way he looks at you?”

“Fuck you, Hughes,” Slaf curses, giving him the middle finger. “Like you’re one to talk. Everyone knows you’re head over heels for her and you know which head I’m talking about.”

Quinn laughs like what Slaf said had been the funniest thing he’d heard in a while, while Jack simply shrugs and looks at you with expectant eyes.

“You are all drunk. That’s the only explanation I can find,” you say, still choosing not to see what is right in front of you. “And I’m about to be the next one.”

You took just one sip before Quinn wrapped his hand around your glass and took it out of your hands. You were about to complain and ask him what happened when he shook his head, clicking his tongue. “We are not drunk, Y/n. And we don’t want you to be.”

“What? Why not?” You ask. “I promise I’m not that type of person who talks about their love life when they’re drunk. I might talk about Tik Tok memes, though.”

“That’s worse than talking about your shit ass love life,” Jack murmurs and you turn around to look at him with angry eyes. “What?” He asks, grinning, with his hands in the air.

“It’s not my fault I can’t find the right guys,” you sigh, resting your head on Quinn’s shoulder like you’re used to doing. “Why do men suck?”

“Not all of them do, sweets.” Quinn says, placing his hand on your naked thigh, making you blush faintly.

“We don’t.” Juraj murmurs beside you, and you hum.

“Well,” you say, measuring your words. “Unfortunately, I can’t have any of you. So, yeah, I still have the same problem.”

“Who said you can’t have any of us?” Juraj says, and you lift your head, furrowing your eyebrows at him. “Or even better, all of us.”

There’s a beat of silence. The room is suddenly too warm for you, and even if you’re just wearing a skirt and a crop top, you still feel yourself starting to get sweaty.

The song is still playing, an unknown melody reverberating through the room, and what once felt big and spacious suffocates you now.

“You guys. You can’t be serious… right?” You ask, looking at each and every single one of them in the eye.

Jack is the first one to break the silence. “Come on, Y/n. Haven’t you ever thought about us like that?”

You can feel their eyes on you as you think of what to answer. You can’t say you haven’t— that would be a lie. You were loyal to Cole and you loved him, but you weren’t blind.

And now that you’re really thinking, these guys hadn’t been particularly sleek either; Jack with his obsession with calling you pet names, Quinn finding any and every excuse to touch you whenever you were in the same room and Juraj eye-fucking you from afar while you cuddled with his teammate.

So yeah, you have wondered about it before, but it all sounded so insane you didn’t think about it twice. The odds of all four of them liking you were pretty low, so why bother fooling yourself with these kinds of thoughts?

But now, you were sitting in the same room as them, with Juraj’s arm touching yours, Quinn’s hand running up and down your leg, and Jack’s eyes on you, like you were a prey or something similar.

“We can’t do that,” you whisper, trying your hardest to hold onto that single piece of sanity and morals you still had. “You guys are insane. Jack, Quinn’s your brother.” You reason, expecting to knock some sense into them.

Quinn squeezes your thigh slightly. “It wouldn’t be our first time.”

“Besides, it’s fine because we’re not going to fuck each other,” Jack says, like he’s telling you the sky’s blue. “I’m going to fuck you.”

“We are going to fuck you,” Juraj corrects, and you close your eyes, holding your hands together on your lap, trying to keep them still. “What do you say, chéri?” He asks, getting dangerously close to your neck, his strong, masculine scent making your head spin. His lips briefly touch your neck, the contact so light you wouldn’t feel it if you weren’t hyper aware of your surroundings.

Quinn’s warm, big hand is moving up, up and up, and that startles you.

You get up, panting as hard as if you had ran an entire marathon, and you stand in the middle of the room, surrounded by them. By your friends who had just asked to fuck you.

“I can’t— I can’t do this,” you whisper. “What about Cole, what about—”

“Sweetheart, Cole is probably balls deep inside someone else right now,” Quinn replies, and the others hum in agreement. “If you don’t want it because you don’t want to, it’s fine, you know we’d never force you. But,” he spreads his thighs, the outline of his cock is visible and right there for you to see. You gulp, not sure of what to do. “If you don’t want to do it because you still believe Cole deserves your kindness, then I have to say—”

“You’re being dumb,” Juraj finishes Quinn’s sentence, smirking. “You’ll be crying over one small cock when you have three waiting for you. It’s your pick, really.”

Your head is spinning and you feel aware of your body, which is something you hate. You can feel your arms and legs starting to give in, and to your absolute horror and panic, you can feel your underwear start to get sticky.

You walk towards the door, ready to leave, ready to put this night behind and pretend this was all a fever dream, and never think about this again. But, as you grab the handle, you know you won’t be able to forget this, not even if you wanted to.

So, you stop being a hypocrite, and grab the door’s key, locking the door once, and then twice, before exhaling and turning around again.

All three of them are staring at you, with the same expression; lust. It’s sinful and you are certain that you’re going to hell for this, but as you start to get undressed, right there, in the middle of the room, for all of them to see, you can’t help but feel like what you’re doing is nothing but right.

You remove your crop top, pulling the fabric over your head and dropping it on the floor, shivering slightly when the cold breeze hits your naked skin. You do the same with your skirt, letting it fall around your feet like a river, leaving you standing with only your bra and lace underwear in front of them.

“Fuck.” You hear one of them say, you’re not sure who, the word nothing but a whisper.

Juraj is the first one to get up, and get his hands on you. He’s rough, hungry and not careful at all, something you’re not used to but like it anyway.

His lips are on yours almost instantly, and his hands are holding you down while he licks and sucks your mouth. He tastes like some kind of candy you’ve had before, and your brain is screaming that what you’re doing is wrong, so wrong and that you literally just broke up with your boyfriend of two years not even thirty minutes ago but you can’t stop.

It’s maddening, it’s addictive and you want more.

It gets worse when you feel another pair of hands on your back, unclamping your bra. You hear a soft tud, which you can only assume is your bralette hitting the floor. Then, there are hands squeezing your tits, hands almost as rough as Slaf’s, and it has you moaning inside his mouth.

“So fucking soft,” you hear Jack say behind you as he gets closer, his hard dick poking your ass over your underwear. “Tits so fucking soft for us, baby.”

And he pinches both of your nipples, making you whimper loud and separate your lips from Juraj’s. There’s a saliva string connecting both of you and it makes you feel nasty.

He gives you a brief peck before gently slapping your thighs twice, silently asking you to remove your underwear, which you promptly do. You slide your lace panties over your legs, shyly throwing them away from you.

It’s only then that you notice Quinn staring at you from the couch, half naked with his dick out of his boxers— the thought of him getting off only by watching you makes you squeeze your thighs together, to stop your hole from clenching around nothing.

“Let’s get you wet and ready, alright?” Juraj says, manhandling you around like you were just a toy for him to break, until your back touched the cold, wooden surface of the table sitting in the middle of the dark room. You arch your back, pouting with the coldness and Slaf coos at you. “I’m sorry there isn’t anything more comfortable than this.”

“Like she cares about comfort,” Quinn snorts. “The only thing she’s worried about it’s whether she’s taking one or two cocks in that greedy pussy of hers.”

The humiliation Quinn’s words bring you is almost unbearable, yet it has you dripping anyway. Their laughs, the way they’re all staring at you like some piece of meat makes you feel hot all over.

Juraj lays you down carefully, only to spread your legs open with the same roughness he used before, when his lips were on yours. You yelped, feeling exposed and embarrassed— your bare, glistening pussy was on display for all three of them to see.

“Holy shit,” you hear someone say, Juraj maybe, and you cringe, hiding your face with your hands. “She’s perfect.”

“We’ll see about that,” you hear Jack say behind you and you remove your hands from your face. Suddenly, he’s sliding his pants down, his dick touching his covered abs as wraps his fist around his length, slowly jerking off in front of you.

You’re watching it in awe, even as you stare at him upside down, since your head is hanging off the table’s edge. He smirks down at you at the same time Juraj licks your clenching hole, making you moan for the first time, loud and involuntary.

“Ah.”

“Shit,” you hear Slaf say. “Pussy so fucking wet and sweet. Y/n, you’ll drive me crazy.”

You don’t answer; not because you don’t want to but because Jack places his hands on both sides of your cheeks, squeezing them together until your mouth forms the perfect O and he can slide his entire dick inside it.

He moans noisily as you gag on his long dick. It’s an unexpected feeling, to have your throat fucked like this— Cole wasn’t a big fan of messy, rough blowjobs— but fuck if it doesn’t get you wetter.

Juraj is still working hard on your pussy, licking your folds and throbbing clit, eating it with a loud slurp, the sound of your wetness making you close your eyes with pleasure and shame.

“Your mouth feels so good, pretty,” Jack moans behind you, still holding your head in place while he drags his dick through your throat. Your eyes are wet with unshed tears and you feel your mouth so full it is starting to hurt. “Almost as tight as a pussy.”

It’s overwhelming to try to manage the feeling of Juraj’s tongue and Jack’s cock on you. You feel warm, your hands are gripping the table like your life depends on it, and you can feel yourself start to slip more and more.

“She’s wet enough already,” Quinn states, and the fact that he’s referring to you like you’re not even there makes you whimper loudly around Jack’s cock.

Next thing you know, you’re being manhandled again; Jack’s rough hands leave your cheeks to hold your waist instead, taking you to the nearest couch and laying down with you on top of him.

You’re facing him, those blue eyes never leaving yours. “Y/n,” he starts, his tone gentle for the first time that night. You hum, adjusting yourself on top of him, until you have both of your legs on each side of his body, almost on fours on top of him, highly aware that Quinn and Slaf could see everything. “We are going to be rough.”

“I know,” you whisper.

“I’m not asking for permission, baby, do you understand that?” He talks to you like one would do to a child, using a tone so soft it could put you to sleep, if it were any other situation. You bite your lips, feeling Slaf’s long fingers sliding up and down your pussy, rubbing circles on your swollen clit while Jack speaks. “We are going to be rough. Tonight, you’re nothing but a toy for us to play with, alright? A hole for us to fuck.”

You nod, closing your eyes momentarily as Juraj pinches your clit, hard. He tugs it and it feels like he just placed a clothespin on you. It hurts so. Good.

“I need your words, baby.”

“I u-understand that,” you sob, hot tears running freely down your face as you continue to speak. “I w-want it.”

Jack chuckles, touching your face with care. “It would be so nice if we actually cared about what you want, huh?”

You bit your lip again, suppressing a loud moan. It would be even more embarrassing if they realized how wet you got every time they were mean towards you.

“Bitch gets wetter and wetter every time you say shit like that, Hughes,” Juraj says, and your entire face burns with shame, as you hide it in the crock of Jack’s neck. “Come see this shit, Quinn.”

You tremble as you hear a pair of steps echoing through the room, and without warning, you feel your hips getting lifted, just slightly, at the same time you feel two fingers being inserted inside deeply in your pussy.

You whine loudly, not even feeling pain with how wet you were. His fingers were moving around like you were nothing but a sex doll, making you hold Jack’s arm to steady yourself.

“Look at this tight, little thing,” Juraj says, twirling his fingers around, scissoring them inside you. “Merde. She’s milking my fucking fingers, bro.”

“I can see that,” Quinn hums. “Pussy so fucking greedy she’s taking you without complaints.”

You were about to moan again when Juraj removed his fingers from you, leaving you clenching around nothing, once again. “Let’s start, then.”

After that, it’s hard to tell what really happened. You were thrown around, and suddenly, Slaf was laying under you, Quinn was standing beside you and you assumed Jack was behind you.

You could feel one of them poking their cock through your slit, gathering all your wetness to use as lube. Then, he slowly started to insert it, the stretch making you whimper inside Slaf’s mouth, as he bruised your lips roughly again.

Jack had barely given you time to adjust to his length when you felt Juraj’s tip poking at your entrance too. You gasped inside his mouth, feeling his dick joining Jack’s inside you and.

Oh.

“Fuck, Y/n.”

You opened your eyes, glistening with tears, and stared at Quinn standing beside you, who was looking at you with fond eyes. He chuckles while staring down at you, taking his dick out again and grabbing it with his right hand, running the tip over your mouth.

The salty taste of his precum painting your lips white distracted you momentarily from the fact that Juraj was still trying to put his dick inside you, accompanying Jack’s.

But it wasn’t enough, of course— even if Juraj's thick, long fingers had stretched you, it didn’t compare to having both of their cocks inside you, together.

“Oh,” you heard Quinn coo. “She’s crying. Maybe she can’t take it?”

You shook your head immediately, not even acknowledging how desperate you looked. Quinn put his thumb inside your mouth at the same time Juraj completely bottomed out inside you, making you scream around the brunette’s finger.

“Sh, sh,” Juraj mumbled under you. “Take it, hm?”

The stretch hurt, yet you couldn’t ask them to stop— you felt so full and you swear you can feel them rearranging your guts, reaching so deep inside your body that if you were to look, you’d probably see a bulge in your stomach.

“Holy shit, man,” Jack moaned, dragging his dick slowly until only the tip was in, so that he could slam it back into you again. “She’s so fucking tight.”

“Move, Hughes.” Juraj hissed under you, and after that, everything fell into a pure state of lust.

Jack and Juraj slammed their cocks inside you rhythmically, like they were dancing a well rehearsed dance. Your body jolted forward as they pounded inside you, rough hands— you didn’t know who's— holding you by your waist and pulling your hair at the same time.

Quinn, who had just been jerking his cock while looking at you, decides to take the opportunity and shove his dick inside you, making you gag around his thick length.

“Shit, Y/n,” he moans, throwing his head back. “I’m going to wreck your mouth like they’re doing with your pussy.”

And he wasn’t lying. He tilted your head to the side and thrust his dick deep inside your mouth, until your nose touched his crotch area. You gagged, still not used to the reckless act, but you were far too gone to complain.

The room smelled like sex, lust and sin. The dark walls watched as you laid on top of Juraj’s much bigger body while you took their cocks in two of your holes, with your pupils blown and wide. Your face was destroyed, it didn’t need to be a genius to realize that; your mascara had smudged under your eyes and the tears had spread the black ink almost everywhere.

Your legs hurt, and so did your jaw, but the pleasure was bigger than any pain. You had never felt this dirty, this raw before, but you feared that after this night, you wouldn’t ever be the same; nothing besides them would ever be enough.

“She feels so good,” Jack says, voice filled with need. “She was born for this.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Juraj says, kissing your neck while you gagged around Quinn’s dick. “Born to take cock inside her tiny pussy.”

After that, you keep slipping and slipping. You come on their dicks at least twice, falling apart each time you feel your wetness coating their dicks.

Your throat is raw, your jaw is hurting, but Quinn is close to his climax, like his brother and Slaf.

Jack and Slaf are the first to come, both painting your walls white with their seed. It’s maddening, your belly feels full of them, but you don’t have time to acknowledge that properly, not when Quinn is also coming deep inside your throat.

You lay limp on top of Slaf’s broad chest, closing your eyes, tired.

But—

“Y/n, hey,” you hear Quinn calling, and you open your eyes, just barely. “Can you stand up, just for a bit?”

“Don’t let it go to waste, baby,” Juraj warns you, and you keep clenching even after they remove their dicks. It’s hard, you feel so open you should be disgusted at yourself but you still try to do as they said.

You feel a pair of hands lifting you, and you sigh, exhausted. They manhandled you until you were laying on top of the couch, head resting on your arms. A rough pair of hands— Jack’s— spread your legs open, leaving you exposed once again.

“Go on,” he commands, and you let it go, feeling their sticky cum pour out of your used, gaping pussy. You sob, feeling dirty.

“Jesus fuck.”

“I think I’m hard again.”

“Lowkey, yeah.”

You collapse on the couch once you feel like there’s nothing left, blacking out as soon as your head hits the leather.

𖧷

YOU WOKE up with a light touch on your cheek.

It takes a while for you to manage to open your eyes, but when you do, you thank whoever decided to put a yellow, warm lighting in that room.

“Hi.”

Jack’s voice brings you back to the present, and you lift your head, only then realising that you were in his lap, fully clothed— with clothes that weren’t yours— and covered with something heavy that felt like a blanket.

You frowned.

“What… what happened?” You ask, looking around. There was Juraj, who was placing a few takeout bags on the table, and Quinn, who was holding an old piece of cloth. “Oh my God.”

It was real. You fucked Jack, Juraj and Quinn.

“Oh my God,” you groan, hiding your face in Jack’s chest.

“I hope these exclamations of yours are because you’re wearing Zegras’ hideous clothes and not because you realized you fucked the three of us.” Jack says, sarcasm taking over his face.

“Why would we do that,” you mumble. “Gosh. That’s wrong in so many ways, I can’t even begin to—”

“Y/n,” Quinn calls you, dropping the cloth on the table— the same table Juraj had eaten you out on— and walking towards you, lifting your chin with two of his fingers. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I— Well— We—” you stumbled over your words, not sure of what to say.

He applies pressure on your chin, sapphire eyes squinting at you. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“I—” you sighed. “Yeah. I did.”

He smiled.

“Then we’re fine.” It’s all he says, before pecking your lips, briefly. It was your first time kissing him and you secretly didn’t want it to be the last.

“We liked it too,” Jack says once his brother lets you go. He winks at you, smirking. “I’ll never forget the sight of you full with my—”

You put your hand over his mouth, red as an apple. “Okay, alright, shut up.”

He chuckles, taking your hand away and kissing you, exploring your mouth with his tongue, just like his brother had done, barely two minutes ago.

“You guys are no fun,” you hear Slaf’s voice. “In my opinion, we should just keep doing this.”

“No,” you say. “This was a one time thing. We can’t keep fucking each other like this.”

“As I said, no fun.”

“She’ll change her mind in a few days, I just know it.” Jack says under you and you roll your eyes at his cockiness.

“I’m too tired to argue with you,” you say. “I smell Chinese food. Can we eat?”

“Yeah, we should probably do that,” Quinn says, nodding. “It’s late already. Let’s eat and take Y/n home.”

Juraj and Jack agree with just a few more complaints, and while you watch them take turns to feed you, you realize, with shame, that Jack was wrong about one thing.

It wouldn’t take a few days for you to change your mind.

You had already done it.

NHL MASTERLIST.

JACK HUGHES MASTERLIST.

QUINN HUGHES MASTERLIST.

[tboyquackity]

aheem heem 12 and then like. all of the 20s?

YES KISSA YOU O7 doing dsmp ones uhm

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

well you already know what the hell i'm going to say...ceeschlatt i'm so sorry he only did some of that you guys are so annoying. i think a huge chunk of his story is just like. Canonically Textually way deeper and more sympathetic and more complicated than people want to acknowledge. guys will have direct blatent narrative foil parallels of their mistakes to their blorbo of choice but only one side will get a million excuses and only one side will get their pov analyzed. OK 👍. telephone game ass fanbase. read the parallel storyline of what would've happened had pogtopia won read the nov 16 script look at the canonical smplive isms analyze why someone would want to "revive someone for political power" desperate style after a funeral where it was Blatantly Clear that person has absolutely Zero Power and it paralleling the post charlie death insanity. and then you will calm down!!

honorable mention to ceefundy as well. i wouldn't say he's unpopular unpopular but goddamn. despite the fact he's so interesting and cool and inpactful and represents huge chunks of Core Themes, he just gets ignored and infantalized and has so much of his story plain Erased because it's inconvenient to other characters. Fucked!!!

20. part of canon you found tedious or boring

ceeranboo so sorry ok. iget why people like him i do but he is so so bland to me. shepards tone empty promise of a character. to me. some of his implications were pretty interesting, especially when it came to things that were more complicated, the exile isms the being knowingly complicit in ctommy prison murder or him drinking ableist copium abt tubbo being kind of unhinged. the centristism sometimes feeling less waffly and more like he's trying to people please to the point of exploding. too bad i do not care ☝️🔛🔝

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

and if i say tntduo..it's been so overhyped it overshadows everyone else it overshadows their own damn characters entire arcs and decisions and then the whole story itself they are not allowed to be anything except eachothers klance bait which was equally as mid. i do think there is value to it but at this point i am so exhausted about the oc versions being treated like canon when on screen its so bad out here sometimes. ppl going ohhh we never got resolution :[ ,,,.ccwilbur blatantly said what would've happened in the final tntduo stream. cwil would show back up to lnv in the same set up of his apologies but its a bait and switch that pivots into insulting q again and then finish it up w oh hey maybe yr not so bad after all 😂 and then he gives him a fist bump and leaves. there's yr closure. lea me alone

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

i already said i think pumpkinduo is like funny comedy mallets for crazy people but i think most other things get attention properly? el rapids deserved more hype tho i srs think it would change how people see a lot of the characters involved

23. ship you've unwillingly come around to

im not sure? weird shit is a given but other than that who rlly care <- edit: HELP i misread the question i thought it was asking what you are Unwilling to come around to. so sorry. to answer the actual question uhm,,still not very sure hheheh im very solid in my dislikes and likes and complaints

24. topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

exile and the prison for sure :heart_hands: /RETCH. sure other things are very annoying but the levels these two arcs get to are Awful and Telling and Shitty the media illiteracy is off the charts. how you can watch streams with your eyes closed and ears closed and without registering the words or characters on the screen. what's going on. anyways if cdrm thinks torture is so bad maybe he should not talk about eye for an eye when he had tortured three people before he was even in the prison. but okay. also rip prison arc sam the world wasn't ready for a character like you 🙏

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

i'm not sure? what are the most common complaints i do happen to agree with a lot of them i think

[agothinhiding]

streaming services should be required to put a warning or disclaimer on shows that got canceled prematurely. I shouldn't have to Google every show I want to watch to see if it got canceled, and I'm tired of investing in a show just to realize after watching that it's never going to continue. it's fucking ridiculous that we have to research shows before getting invested in them. I'm so serious when I say that I'm going to stop watching new shows altogether soon because it's just not worth it anymore. it provides none of the value that tv shows should provide (character and PLOT development, satisfying endings, twists and turns, literally anything that takes longer than 1 season to accomplish). I only have so much time in my week to watch TV and I'm tired of squandering what little free time I have on fucking bullshit that leaves me unsatisfied and pissed off.

maybe if these companies see the popularity of the new original series dropping itll make them scared enough to actually give their viewers what they fucking signed up for