#and calling it overrated is beyond insane

[akimojo]

i just saw someone call ffxiii overrated like? what?? it's literally one of the most hated games in the franchise wym "overrated" 😭

#they've gotta be butthurt it got 3 games #also saw someone whine about how it shouldn't get a remaster bc ''other ff games deserve a chance'' and i was baffled #xiii and xi are the only mainline ff games that aren't on modern consoles what are you talking about!!!!!!! #i shouldn't be reading random men's comments on ffxiii omg it just makes me peeved lmao #final fantasy xiii #i gotta ramble real quick abt how we don't have a remaster yet actually #it bugs me when people act as if it's because ffxiii was some huge embarrassment for square and that they want to bury it #when it actually sold super well #and lightning became one of the most iconic protags in the whole franchise #not to mention that xiii got TWO SEQUELS that ALSO sold well #AND the combat system has influenced modern ff titles #square doesn't hate xiii omfg get real #but that does make it even more absurd that it doesn't have a remaster yet #some people think it doesn't need one since it still looks so damn good #but it's not really about that lol it's about accessibility and letting it reach a new audience (the pc port is too broken seriously) #something tells me it's because the crystal tools engine was so much of a pain to work with but idk they haven't really explained anything #either way it just annoys me when people claim xiii doesn't deserve a remaster bc ''no one likes it'' when that really isn't true #and calling it overrated is beyond insane

[thottyimagines]

1, 11 and 12 for the controversial Naruto asks? And thank you!

most overrated character?

Ooo, I've talked about this before a little, but...god help me, I think Naruto himself is not very interesting as a protagonist, and I find him overrated. I just think in the whole wide world of Naruto, there are many more interesting, more fleshed-out, more thought-provoking characters. It doesn't help that I find his personality silly in a way that is a bit grating, and the way he's super overpowered doesn't feel satisfying the way it does for other characters (like Sasuke, for example, who is interesting through the merit of being insane).

11. Is Itachi a martyr, a victim, or a perpetrator?

I certainly wouldn't call him a martyr. He was definitely a victim, both in the way all child soldiers are victims of the war machine and in a way that is more targeted and personal, because he perhaps took to the brainwashing and indoctrination a bit too well and carried out a genocide due to machinations beyond his adolescent scope of comprehension. Just because he's a victim doesn't mean he isn't also a perpetrator, though, especially when it comes to everything he did to Sasuke. Keeping your kid brother alive in order to punish himself later on (and maybe achieve some sort of absolution) using actual torture was...a choice. Doing it over and over again well into adult years makes it impossible for him to simply be a victim.

12. Who should've died in war arc?

Man, lots of characters could have made things very interesting and satisfying. I will say that I'm glad that Kakashi and Gai did not die (I read a post here recently basically saying it was great writing for two characters who thought the best thing they could do was give their bodies and lives for the village having to live despite being so willing to make those sacrifices and I agree), but almost everyone else is fair game to me. Something I get very bored with is a lack of development and follow-through (re: answer #1), and killing off some main characters would be really excellent for forcing that to happen.

#naruto #Naruto meta #controversial asks #hot takes ahoy kind of #naruto uzumaki #sasuke #itachi #kakashi #gai

[ratherhavetheblues]

CLAIRE DENIS: Nenette and Boni “I can feel it moving”

by James Clark  2023

Falling apart has had its fortune. In the course of tending to complete the film, Nenette and Boni, I expected (as with the double parts in the proceedings in, Both Sides of the Blade) a happy result. The strictness of the Henri  Mouron dealing put an end to that hope (“all rights reserved”). All I can say is that the graphic artist, A.M.Cassandre, was a giant, his advertising work, touching those who could engage the lithographic magic. That he ended his life by suicide, must not be a way of demeaning the effort.

We start with the city of Marseille. Many years ago, we would visit Marseille as vintage poster dealers, embracing the city’s rich lithographic treasures. Not only that, we became friends with one of the brokers. His home was one of the small islands nearby. We spent several happy days there. (During the War, the Nazis used it, in various ways. Long before that, there was a nefarious prison.) Our story today, Nenette and Boni (1997), focuses upon poisonous instincts. One could place the planet in this way: a very large group; and a very small group which finds something very different.

Along that way, we find a young man, Boni, of Marseille, sketching out a big problem, which could lead him to the few. In much of the saga, the only positives are that he doesn’t kill anyone. His wrath involves lucidity.

However, a crucial matter has to be in place. Planet Earth is rapidly dying. It is a sign of a form of insanity, that this matter is not focused. In a hundred years there will be no birds. Birds with more depth than humans. Birds having engaged and held their fortune, while humans overrate. Does that mean that transaction is over? Not at all. One’s reach of understanding, clearly overtakes the dimness of this rabid disaster called Earth. Other places would be of higher quality.

Our protagonist ignores such burdens, in order to attempt feeling that he’s on the right track. Boni’s idea of progress, and he’s got something there, is to ignore the past. He moves around, of course, but he doesn’t trust anyone. He moves around, however, largely because his father had given him a pizza business; and with that, also, took over his dead mother’s house. On the basis of those windfalls, Boni takes his time to grow up. (He does very little to maintain his “business,” and plays around with “collectible” cards.) It gets worse; it gets better. “I do solemnly swear to fuck her brains out… to love everything minute before draping her. I’ve milked this stupid joke for all its worth. I swear on my mother’s grave that no one or nothing will stop me. If even I don’t keep this oath, may I be branded a coward like my asshole father who left us…and may burn in hell eternally…”

Then he’s finicky about two stray cats in his yard. However, another matter, far from cavelier, materializes, namely, his long lost cousin, Nenette. This is the point we must disclose that very recently Nenette had been close to committing suicide in the sea. What are you waiting for, Nenette? That’s a good question? Something makes her get out of that danger. “Get out, on the double!” (But isn’t it the triple?) Denis being a master of the third, the dialectic.

Boni, the fat cat, does not rise to the matter of Nenette’s danger. She’s pretty much beyond effective interaction. (Her side of the family lacks the money to burn.) Boni’s old neighbor putting up the laundry. Boni smiles, “Is  the wind that’s got you so jittery?” Boni’s all over the place. And soon to be jittery. Inside he tells someone, “I’m gonna stick my dick up your crack.” Powerful, right! For all their differences, they’re in the same business. One could say that the bunny rocks! Boni says, “Good  morning. How are you? Can you feel my hot French stick?” Could he ever understand a thing? Ambiguity wandering around in women’s clothes. “I’ll eat her up.” Maybe. Nenette, looking over a cement wall. Twenty-four hours, and no recognition of Nenette. She sends over a flotilla of sweet buns. Boni’s now in a man’s clothes. All grey. On a drive, she’s left behind. Could they become vital? With a baker. “Don’t you ever sleep at night?”

The ways of Surrealism. “Why are you in my house?” Nenette: “There’s now food. I’m starving. It sucks here. You’re really pathetic. It’s my Mom’s house.”/ ” Lay off my rabbit. Go back to Sugar Daddy.”/ “Why are you screaming! I just wanted to talk, asshole!” (She did want to talk. She, in her scattered way, could [once in a while] recognize their possibilities.)/”Write me a letter. I do what I fucking want.” (With every word, they show their weakness.)

He tells her, “You’ve changed.”/”It’s normal.”/ “You got a little fat.”/ “No, I’ve grown…” (Her sense of being  better than she usually does). “Because I’m pregnant… It’s not a joke. It’s true… I don’t show. I have a small belly.” Or is it a small heart? These two would profess being daring. But where is the delivery? Where is the preparation?  “You screw up my day, and it’s not my business? You came here to hide out, didn’t you?” (Boni never delivers here, until the last few seconds of the film.) Here we see Boni, gobbling his meal out of a cheap take-out. Nothing but cheap?(But when the Beach Boys sang, there was a bit of magic. In the air… Can you touch it? A mirror. One of his hands. A way of truth, if you open, if you open your eyes and shut your ridiculous mouth.)Then there was boxing at the gym. Traction? Inert?

From here to the end, it’s Boni’s choice. The families are insignificant. Make your move. Nenette at the doctor’s: “If he’s sleazy, I’m leaving.” The black doctor was not only professional, but also passionate –a tone never true by the cousins. He tells her, “Breathe deeply.” (A big challenge.) “Knees in tight… There! Very good. I’d  say you’re at least five months pregnant.”/”But I’ve barely gotten fat?” /”That doesn’t mean a thing. It’s your build.” (Nenette counting on a quick abortion.) “An Ultrasound will tell us more.” The questionable patient declares, “Knock, Knock! What’s there!” Cut to Boni, in the waiting room, looking at a piece of the doctor’s walls. Many hands in the waiting room. The doctor discovers, “You lied to me. You’re not 18. It’s my job to be able to tell me how much.” The doctor is a gentleman. Nenette has pretty much become a thug. The next fabrication is one that the doctor should have understood. He asks, “Who’s the boy in the waiting room, your friend?” In a flash, she invents, “My husband, but he doesn’t want to be known. This is nothing of his business…” / The doctor asks Boni, “Would you mind stepping in here.”/ The loud-mouth says “This is none of his business.” (Stupid power while being hopeless.) The doctor tells her, “It is his business. He has to face up to his responsibility… “(Going off the rails. Close to a farce.) Boni asks, “Is this serious?”/ “It is but the doctor fails to understand how poisonous “my husband” is.” So the coverage is wrecked. The doctor gets back to his skills: “No, everything’s fine. Sit down.” (Cut to the doctor, writing. He has written something to the couple.) “Here! You want to have  any hospital bills to pay.” The (too) nice doctor tells Boni, “I need to know how pregnant you are, how changed you are. I’m counting on you for the ultrasound. (Moreover, the sweet doctor had come to understand that Nenette, if ever she were able, was beyond it now. An ugly disposition feeling beaten by something extremely demanding. Beaten from the casual love that needs extreme attention. It isn’t impossible. On other planets, surely, merely elevations could be more than that! Your wife is confused, but it’s only normal. Normal indeed! A satin touch… A well-planned childbirth can be wonderful.)

Boni tells her, “You cost me a lot… So now you’re not getting an abortion…” (That brings out a string of savagery.) She  tells him, “Nothing’s decided yet… Three fingers… a good number… She covers her face with her hair… Boni, in the dark… A  new girlfriend… His nude presence… Her belly… She stretches out… Boni  shoots at a figure with his rifle… Next time I’ll kill you… “Daddy understands” [hoping Nenette would open the locked door].In that melee, even coitus has a go.

The doctor. Fetal test. The white clouds  in the machine, in the dark, showing off the baby to come. “Very good. Everything looks fine. Look! You can see its profile. Do you want to know if it’s a boy or a girl?”/ “No.”/The nurse announces, “Anyway, he’s kicking up a storm.” (The storms of life are hidden in deep hiding places.)/ ” Let’s get something clear. If you are thinking of an abortion, it’s too late.”/ Her response; “I’ll have it somewhere, and kill it.”/Boni slaps her for saying that. “You’re like an animal. Worse than an animal!  I can feel it moving.”(She’s not pleased.)  Nenette. “It won’t come out. He hates me.”/ “We’ll find a foster family. We call this a “Jane Doe” birth. I have to make sure you understand one thing. Your decision is irreversible. Just remember, once you’ve decided, there’s no turning back. But, as I said, it will have a family…but no name.”

Another practitioner.”Is she next? I’ll be in the cafeteria. See you later.” Nenette begins, “It better not hurt.”/ “It’s too late, sweety. And don’t moralize me. You have an attitude problem.”/ “Fuck! Fuck! This fucking hurts!”/ “I know it hurts.Try pushing. You’re not pushing! You don’t want to… Push!… Again!… There you go”/….”I want this to end!”… The baby cries. Nenette cries. Baby in basket.

Now the end. Boni, to the hospital, sort of. He “drops the flowers… ” , sort of. Nenette gone.  Here’s a fantasy with power. On the balcony with his rifle, and then having picked up the baby… An eye. Two sets of hands. Boni caresses the baby. Face to face. He kisses the baby. “How are you doing, baby? Wake up…” A smile on his face. Wake up. (A good line.) The baby cries in Boni’s arms. Baby responds to Boni’s embraces. Baby asleep. Boni smiles. “Yeah, you pissed on me!”

One more time! Nenette’s hard eyes.There is a strange and melancholy connection between our two most recent essays. Marcel Proust, after a long, brilliant discovery in literature, came to see that it was not real, not strong enough. As if there had to be a great finish. Months in the hospital. Then, only, a flow of irony. A.M. Cassandre, face to face with imagery to heighten the skies. Unable to engage for a lifetime. Finding death best.

Cassandre at his best!

#claire denis

[supermarine-silvally]

Favorite 5 one piece characters and 5 you feel meh about

oooh it's so hard to choose! (especially for my faves heheh) but I've gotta go with...

Favourites:

note: not including Luffy because he's the main character

#5 Roronoa Zoro

I mean... he's Zoro. I don't know if it's possible not to like Zoro. For me, what elevated him beyond "he's extremely cool" to his current status in my top 5 faves was the "nothing happened" moment at the end of Thriller Bark. It really solidified his loyalty towards Luffy and the lengths of which he's willing to go to protect his captain and friends.

#4 Mr. 2 Bon Clay

Oh Bon-chan <3 When I started One Piece I never would've imagined to come across an explicitly queer character written in such a sympathetic way; who goes from being a minor villain to a beloved ally whom Luffy loves and respects. I love Bon-chan a lot and the ending of Impel Down is one of my favourite character moments in the entire show. Also the "queers never die" moment? Iconic.

#3 Yamato

As a transmasc person myself, there's no way I couldn't vibe hard with Yamato. I love everything about him, from his personality to his design to his insanely cool Devil Fruit abilities. I REALLY want to see him become a Straw Hat at some point in the future.

#2 Nico Robin

I LOVE Robin. My favourite Straw Hat hands-down. She's so beautiful and smart and has such cool abilities and plays such an invaluable role in the story. Her backstory is so heartbreaking and I truly believe that it's no exaggeration to call Enies Lobby peak One Piece. The "I want to live" moment is my favourite in the entire series. Watching Robin struggle with whether she deserves to be saved and her realising her friends are willing to go to war with the world to save her is just asdkjhsdf I love it and I love her pls marry me Ms Nico Robin

aaaaaaand to nobody's surprise, the number one spot goes to.......

#1 Portgas D. Ace

I love love love love LOVE Ace. From the moment he was first introduced in Drum Island to the childhood flashbacks of the postwar arc that laid out his story in full, I fell in love with everything about him and his character. He's insanely cool and silly and gorgeous and tragic and I have no idea how Oda managed to pack it all into one character but somehow he did. I tend to also be a sucker for older sibling characters since I myself am the oldest sibling in my family so I relate hard to that, too. I could write entire essays about how much I love Ace and why he is such a fantastic character but I think I'll leave it there for now lol also I own so much Ace merch it's ridiculous

The "Meh" Characters (I'm taking this to mean characters I am moreso indifferent to rather than ones I outright hate, which is a different list lol):

#5 Buggy

Controversial take, I know lol but let me preface this by saying I don't dislike Buggy-- I actually enjoy him in a lot of scenes, especially in Impel Down. But overall, I think he's overrated and I just don't vibe with his blowhard personality. And there were definitely moments in Marineford that I just found myself getting really annoyed with him (yeah yeah I know he was supposed to lighten the mood and all that but every time the scene cut back to him I was just like ugh gimme the Whitebeard Pirates back).

#4 Gecko Moria

Kind of a lacklustre villain for me, especially in comparison with the other Warlords. He feels like he really shouldn't have earned that title. All around just kind of whiny and annoying. (I love Thriller Bark, I just don't like Moria very much-- or at least don't think he reached his full potential as a villain in the way Crocodile and Doflamingo do).

#3 Foxy

Long Ring Long Land is my least favourite arc and while I did enjoy his fight with Luffy, I just found Foxy super irritating. Not enough to hate, but enough to make me go "oh thank god" when the arc was finally over.

#2 Sengoku

This fucking guy. He's not as outright fascistic as some of the other Marines like Akainu, but doesn't have the depth of Garp and or the ambiguity of Aokiji/Kuzan. There are some moments where the narrative tries to make him more sympathetic in ways that I don't think he deserves at all, considering his position within the Marines and his dedication to perpetuating the brutal oppression of the World Government and I will NEVER forgive him for basically ritually humiliating Ace atop the execution platform in a way that was, frankly, really cruel. He's just not interesting or developed enough for me to enjoy his presence in the story as an antagonist.

and my number one "I couldn't care less about this character" is......

#1 Enel

Okay. I like Skypeia as an arc. It has some great moments, like the ringing of the bell and the resolution of the story of Montblanc Noland and Calgera, but I just found Enel a really boring villain, especially in comparison to the major villain before him, Crocodile. I find him unappealing to look at (his face is just so punchable) and every time he was on screen I just wanted him to go away. He's not an interesting character to me and I don't understand how he has any fans whatsoever.

#aaaand there we go! my hot takes! #it was so hard to narrow down my top 5 #i wanted to include characters like law and mihawk but they just got outranked in the end #asked and answered #also just realised that 3/5 of my top 5 are gonna be introduced in opla season 2 #i hope you're all prepared for me to lose my mind when we get live action ace

[liugeaux]

Greatest Songs Ever - Part 18 (Softballs)

#18 is here! halfway through this list I realized most of these songs are universally known. So I figured the best way to describe them was to call them the “softballs,” easy choices that will pad out much of my recent genre exploration. What you see here, you’ll probably know. Truly some of the easiest choices I’ve made thus far. 

Here they are. 

1986 “(You Gotta) Fight for Your Right (To Party!)” - Beastie Boys

The Beastie Boys are somehow both one of the the most overrated and underrated artists of the past 40 years. They get credit for being pioneers in the hip-hop genre and blending that hip hop with a brash New York punk attitude. Part of that credit simply comes from being white, and that's fine, but the credit they really deserve is in the nuance of their early work. License to Ill and “Fight for Your Right” are pieces that will likely be studied in future college curricula. This song is a snapshot of a moment in music history that didn't exist before nor after it, yet somehow has lived far beyond its expiration date. It's bratty, it's entitled, and it's punk, a brand of punk that carries a unique Americana-esq freedom to it. It's hard to listen to this track and not feel nostalgic for your childhood even if your childhood wasn't in the early 80s.

1967 “Daydream Believer” - The Monkees

I don't understand how The Monkees brand made it to the 21st century intact, without it being destroyed by critics looking to downplay there talent. Refusing to abandon the manufactured nature of their origin is an easy target. Four seemingly ordinary dudes were pulled together to create a band for a TV show, and 13 or so albums later, Mickey Dolan's is still touring under the beloved name of The Monkees. The beauty here is the idea of stripping away the pretentiousness of artistic creation and basking in the simplicity of a catchy pop song. “Daydream Believer” is a vibrant pop track that is only here to please. There are no deeper meanings, there is no subtlety in the lyrics, and the instrumentation isn't trying to break any barriers. The song has a singular focus of bringing joy to the listener, and it does so with laser precision.

1985 “Take on Me” - A-Ha

“Take On Me” has been on-deck for a while. I've always assumed I would get tired of this stereotypical '80s anthem, but even today when I hear it on the radio, I turn it up and try my damnest to hit those falsetto notes. It's not even a track that I learned to like late in life. I remember seeing the video on MTV with my parents in the actual '80s. It's just such a perfect genre song that it's hard to turn away from it. I'm sure there are gen-xers that have a very different opinion on the track, as they were likely bludgeoned with it in 1985, but outside of that age group, I would question the integrity of anyone who just flat-out hates “Take On Me”.

1970 “Funk #49″ -  James Gang

Don't get me wrong, the irony of including a song named “Funk 49″ by 3 white dudes, before including any songs by actual funk legends, is not lost on me.  When I first heard this song, it never occurred to me that it was funk-influenced.  To me, it's just classic rock. Joe Walsh is an All-Star in the genre, and it's presence on Z106 (my local eternally classic rock station) had me convinced I was right. Ignoring any cultural appropriation that might be happening, “Funk 49″ succeeds in multiple areas. The guitar parts, despite coming from a single guitar sound textured and you can feel the strings vibrating in your neck hairs. The bass lines glue the percussion to the guitar so well, that at times, it blends into one omni-instrument. Like any good three-piece, the stripped-down production only accentuates how big of a sound can come from just three dudes. We can have the culture discussion some other time, “Funk 49″ is a classic.

1996 “Virtual Insanity” - Jamiroquai

Speaking of funk music, Jamiroquai carved a unique place in late '90s culture.  With most of their music being genre-heavy, “Virtual Insanity” is so good it can't help but break through to the mainstream. Sure I'm supposed to talk about how cool the video was and how enigmatic lead singer Jay Kay is, but strip both of those abstract ideas away from the song and it still pops. Bass-heavy, almost dancey, somehow uniquely British, and beautifully futuristic, “Virtual Insanity” feels like a song teleported from 2085. From a place where all races have joined into one and all music has evolved into genre-less celebrations of humanity’s quirkiness. Everyone should be striving to be as cool as this song.

1968 “Mrs. Robinson” - Simon and Garfunkel

Speaking of quirky, after juggling 3 or 4 other Simon and Garfunkel songs, “Mrs. Robinson” emerged as the king of the hill. It wasn't until 2 years ago that I knew the song was inspired by and kind of written for the movie The Graduate. I don't think that changes my opinion of it, but it does put Simon and Garfunkel's creative process in a different perspective. “Mrs. Robinson” feels like a window into a idealistic past and it's inevitable fade into more volatile times. I'm not even sure if that's what the song is about, but the line “Where have you gone Joe DiMaggio?“ resonates in ways that I don't think was ever intended. 

1994 “Don't Take the Girl” - Tim McGraw

At some point I'm going to have to answer for my constant inclusion of country music from the 90s, but today will not be that day. “Don't Take the Girl,” is ‘90s country at its purest. A simple concept floated by a simple song title, interpreted three different ways through the verses of a mid-tempo ballad, with lyrics begging for tears, is exactly what you'd expect from the genre. Since Tim McGraw is not listed as a songwriter here, it's safe to say the track came out of the Nashville factory of songwriting. McGraw's name being on the track is simply a formality. Clint Black, Garth Brooks, Joe Diffie, Alan Jackson, George Strait, Toby Keith, Vince Gill, Randy Travis, Marty Stuart, the list of names that could have pulled this song out of the Nashville hat is nearly infinite. It's hard to say the track would be any different if any of the others had recorded it, but the song itself is heartfelt and not only fits the mold, it somehow improves it.

2008 “Second Chance” - Shinedown

Here's another track that's been in the hopper for a minute. I've talked about Shinedown before, and while they've avoided the Nickelback treatment, they've been shoehorned into this weird ”I hate Shinedown” overexposure bucket and that kind of sucks. Brent Smith and his band are masters of their craft, and even if you don't like the style of music they make, they are the best at what they do. “Second Chance” was their big home-run swing at making a mainstream impact, and it worked. Just enough emo, and just enough pop, “Second Chance” struck at the perfect time. Pop radio was still accepting of modern rock tracks, and was looking for emotionally resonant guitar songs that connected with wayward teens. From an adult perspective, “Second Chance” may feel forced, but from anyone in the throes of adolescence, it's a gut-wrenching tear-inducing anthem and that's hard to recreate.

2020 “Mood” -  24kGoldn (ft. Iann Dior)

Mood is a tight 2:20. That's short, even by pop song standards. However, what 24Goldn fits into that time contradicts what most people understand as rap music. I don't know much about this artist, but what I know is that emo influence has rewritten the rules of Hip Hop. “Mood” is a fantastic example of a rapper understanding the breadth of his options. Every track doesn't have to be built on a drum machine, it doesn't have to have a loop sourced from a dance track. If you can flow over a simple guitar riff and the hook is solid, you can do anything.  Music fans have grown accustomed to accepting modern music as being big and loud and production heavy, but mood is subtle, straightforward and catchy, yet still modern. Which leaves it remarkably comforting even for older listeners.

1978 “Wonderful Tonight” -  Eric Clapton

Another artist that had multiple songs in the hopper is Eric Clapton. It would have been easy to lean on his guitar prowess or choose something from the height of Derek and the Dominos, but the strength of the songwriting in “Wonderful Tonight” proves Clapton is more than just a set of hands that can shred a guitar. It's become a wedding staple, a television staple, a movie staple, and a mainstay on several different genres of airplay. There's a sweetness to “Wonderful Tonight” that is rarely recreated in any genre. Unlike more invasive pop songs, it's not a song that sticks with you long after you hear it. It has a purpose, and a very specific delivery. Look at your significant other and listen to “Wonderful Tonight.” If you don't tear up, leave them. You don't actually love them. Maybe that’s an overstatement, but you get the gist.

There you go, a quick 10. I promised in the last list I would create a playlist, and I promise it’s coming, but it’s not quite ready. List 19 is already curated, expect it soon. 

Cheers!

#eric clapton #24kgoldn #shinedown #the monkees #a-ha #jamiroquai #james gang #beastie boys #tim mcgraw #simon and garfunkel

[arkadiaasks]

Interesting so you complain about Go Rush (a show that asks the audience to use critical thinking skills) but support VRAINS (a show that asks the audience to revel in misogyny, racism, and ableism).

Sigh I really shouldn't answer these kind of questions...

I criticize Go Rush!! because Rovian is an incomprehensible beatnik slam poet who mumbles out nonsense cheered on by her lesbian wife.

Why am I supposed to care about her motivations if the show does not articulate them to me. "Show Don't Tell" is an overrated mechanism especially for children's TV.

It's also pretty clear the last 4 or 5 episodes of the Space Treasure arc got dinged because Mr. Lounsbery got COVID resulting in the back end being scrambled as they did Whacky Nonsense running around with the YudiaSheet.

It's the onus of the show to explain to me why Rovian is at all concerned about The Lugh. And why I should care about her ultimately.

This isn't asking critical thinking it's called the motivations of characters got scrambled or dropped in a trash can (and worsened due to a dialogue gimmick) and much of the end of its second arc got severely mishandled in my opinion, when an actor got severely sick.

I "support" VRAINS because its writing and story is clearly explained by its staff lead by Mr. Yoshida.

Even if you think it portrays Misogyny, Racism and Ableism (I don't think it does more than any other utterly bland Centrist Liberalism based work, and I honestly think you're reaching beyond reasonable belief), the story is still inherently better communicated to the audience as well as its themes and motifs.

And if you're arguing me liking VRAINS (I think it's my third least-liked Yu-Gi-Oh! with DM and ARC-V beneath it) says something about my moral character, that's insane black-white moralism that doesn't understand how humans function.

One can find a lot of value in a highly flawed work (VRAINS or the works of H.P. Lovecraft) and still be a good human being in their day-to-day life and believe women are equal to men, and that racism is idiotic.

I think a lot of Go Rush!! is good, especially with Yudias and Zuwijo's motivations, but I can still think it did itself dirty with an antagonist turned ally's motivations being articulated and fucked up its second arc's landing.

As much as I also can think VRAINS was heavily worsened by Link era Dueling Rules, realism to the actual game, was kind of honestly boring and the entire Mirror Link VRAINS arc was nails on a chalkboard, but still think its themes and motifs and ideas were some of the strongest in Yu-Gi-Oh! despite a lack luster execution.

If someone not batshit insane can articulate Rovian's motivations to me, I'd love to hear them.

#yugiohvrains #yugiohgorush

[blehblarghblah]

I kiiiiinda think Lumity is overrated. At least, it REALLY takes away from the attention of TOH.

ooh boy, am I regretting this.

I'm really not, by the way. I admire the boldness of even bringing up discussion like this---regardless if it's an Anon or not. Some of you may recall my post that sorta talked about Queer rep in cartoons.

But basically, I love Queer representation as much as the next guy and think it's amazing, but I'm actually inclined to say I slightly agree with this---the latter half of Anon's take at least. TOH is a great show and actually has some pretty good themes about family and self-acceptance, along with great comedy. But a lot of the attention is derived from those ideas and then toward Lumity and I get why.

It's a bisexual, Latina character in a same sex relationship in a cartoon. Absolute insanity! Rep points for da win!

But, I also love Luz Noceda along with all those aspects of her character. She's funny, she's quirky, she's relatable; she's something tween Bleh would've empathized with heavily growing up. But I'm able to appreciate what she represents along with what's dearly treasured about her relationship with Amity. Something I always say, even beyond the discussion of Queer rep, is

"Love more than just its characters, love the story being told with them."

So, no: I don't think Lumity is overrated, but I do wish we'd take time away from the shipping hype and remember this is a story about more than just two teenagers calling each other "Awesome girlfriends." Even though that is severely sweet and wholesome.

^^^ Like Hooty says ^^^

Until next ask,

- Bleh

#ask bleh #asks #anon asks #toh #the owl house #lumity #luz noceda #amity blight #unpopular opinion #again no fighting pls #let's be kind ( ^‿^) #queer #queer representation #toh memes #I hope this just gets glossed over and doesnt start something #toh hooty

[colossal-fallout]

Thank you, i’m glad you like it :) 

Smut and Fluff.

Starter

                   My love,

                                  I’m just writing this letter to inform you that all is well. You don’t have to worry. Life here in the military police is pretty boring and to be honest, mundane. It’s like all the jokes you guys made about the MP’s being overrated has come to fruition. I don’t do much. I mainly patrol the Stohess district and break up arguments; mostly within my own regiment - not drunken slobs like I thought. 

How are you? I’m on leave soon and I would love to visit you in Trost. Admittedly, I do often find myself thinking about you when I shouldn’t be. Maybe life here is too boring and my mind is getting lazy. Or maybe, I miss you. Well this is turning a little too soft for my liking, but know that I do love you and I hope to see you soon.

Love,

Annie x 

    The blonde head of your lover is seen bobbing up and down ever so slightly from between your legs as her tongue roams your sex. Her fingers grip tightly into your thigh - the pain a delicious contrast to the intense pleasure you were feeling, as her rose-tint lips now suction around your clit as she sucks and flicks the tip of her tongue over and over again. 

Main

“Annie...” You whimper, your lovers presence is enough at this moment alone to push you over into the boarders of insanity. 

 She sits back, looking at your soaking clit with a tilted head; marvelling you and licking your residue from her lips, your hips jerking with the lack of sensation.

“Annie, please...” You plead, your eyes begging her to allow you to reach the heavens. 

Leaning forward, she grazes her lips up your inner thigh. So close yet so far to your golden end, her hot breath blanketing your skin and giving you shivers. 

“No.” She replies bluntly. 

“P-please?” You beg, your climax fading away by the second. 

Biting her lip, her eyes snap to yours. “No. You’re not cuming until I say so.” 

You writhe around, slithering like a snake on the sheets of your shared bed; your fingers running through your hair in frustration. 

“I love seeing you squirm.” She mumbles before returning her mouth to your slit. 

You cry out, hands snapping to her light strands as she moans into you, delighting at your desperation. 

Taking a finger, she carefully pushes it into you. She keeps her movements shallow and light. She didn’t want to graze your G-spot too much and ruin all of her hard work of denying you your pleasures. 

“Ah~ Annie!” You bark, slamming your thighs shut around her head. “Let me cum on that pretty face... please!” 

She laughs into you, halting all movements. “You’re so needy today.” 

“I need you...” 

“I know.” 

The slightest brush against your sex now would detonate you, Annie forcing herself out of your grasp before moving up and straddling your chest, her own gleaming slit up next to your face. Your hand automatically slides to your own clit as the scent of Annie fills your nostrils. 

“No, no...” She teases, pushing your arms up by your head and resting her knees on your forearms as she lowers herself down with a gasp. “Please me...gorgeous. Ah ~ Yeah... just... just like that.” 

You frantically eat her pussy as she rides your face, your hysteria beyond the limits of your physical body as your hips desperately thrust and grind against fresh air, the taste of her overwhelming you. 

“mmm... I love riding this beautiful little face...” She whines, her back arching and her head facing the ceiling as she grids herself against your flustered head. 

 While she enjoys you, you do anything and everything you can to have some sort of friction against your sex. You thrust, you jerk, your legs cross and you squeeze your thighs together as your lover gets higher and higher on the drug of your mouth, her nails now digging into your scalp as she begins her own climax.

“Yes! Yes!” She pants frantically, her arousal and taste pouring into your mouth as he insides push and clench. “Such a good girl...” 

You groan hysterically into her as she descends from her high - a small satisfied laugh pushing through her lips with a smirk as she slides her tongue into your mouth as a well done. 

“Annie...” You sob, actual tears now beginning to pool within your pretty orbs. 

Without a reply, she just grins slyly, trailing her tongue all the way down your form - her blue eyes not removing themselves from your gaze. 

You cry out loudly as she returns her mouth back to your clit, two of her fingers sliding in deep and curling, humming and groaning into you as she finally allows your end. 

You feel the swelling getting bigger and bigger within you, your cries are loud and whiney. This was going to be huge.

“FUCK YES!” You cry; finally detonating your atomic bomb and unleashing the devastation across Annie’s face while she moans even louder at your ecstasy. 

You cry, you cuss, you call out loudly to the heavens; your arousal and juices soaking Annie’s palm and wrist as you let out a final gasp of satisfaction, a small drunken smile melting into your face. 

Dessert

Annie isn't one for PDA. She has a pretty cold exterior, but if you're the one to break through that rock hard shell? Then behind closed doors and in the right mood, she's a total softy.

If you're not with her, and she's feeling soft, she'll often spoon her pillow and think of you as she's falling asleep.

After a hard day, loves nothing more than to lay on your chest/stomach, while you lazily draw circles into her back or scalp.

Annie smells really good. Fresh clean laundry with a hint of rose lavender.

When she's needy (usually before or after sex) rubs herself against you like a cat in heat.

She won't say "I love you" too often but she will show it in different ways. Like always helping you in training or having your back if you get into an argument. Even if it had nothing to do with her.

She's so warm and fuzzy deep DEEP down. Will absolutely imagine your wedding day secretly. Will stop herself when she finds herself smiling like an idiot at nothing.

She loves you and she loves you deeply. Likes to give you a massage when you're stressed or upset. She hates it when you're down and will do anything in her power to make you feel a little better.

#snk #attack on titan #snk imagines #snk season 4 #snk fandom #snk headcanons #annie leonhart #annie x reader #attack on titan annie #follower event #snk annie #annie snk #annie aot

[kaesaaurelia]

have you tried holding your breath?

For @whumptober2021 day 2: Talking Is Overrated (specifically "choking")

In space, no one can hear you swear at the automated system that's denying you entrance to a whole ship full of oxygen.

(Technically this is an AU of some GO fan characters, but it's sufficiently removed from the context that I'm gonna call it origfic. No angels, no demons, and also, alas, no oxygen.)

The goddamn escape pod had gone spinning off in the wrong direction from the force of the explosion, flinging her against the wall before she had secured herself. She didn't know how long she'd been out but it had been long enough that she was well out of reach of anything that looked like a friendly ship, but there was something big the sensors were picking up, the only thing made of metal that she'd be able to get to before she ran out of oxygen, and so, with one hand, she told the pod to beeline towards whatever that was, and with her other hand she felt around the back of her head for any bleeding. Her head didn't hurt, but that was probably due to the nanites, which were still in combat mode and suppressing pain so that she could act.

Her hand came away wet and red, so after double-checking the arrival time estimate and the oxygen content of the escape pod -- really very alarmingly similar numbers -- she felt around for the first aid kit and bandaged herself up.

She had to switch out of combat mode to preserve oxygen, unfortunately, which meant she had to try really, really hard to breathe slowly, because her whole body hurt like hell now, in ways she hadn't been used to since basic training. But she used some of the old-fashioned ingestible painkillers in the first aid kit, and then figured, what the hell, and took a dose of sleep medicine too. If she ran into any unexpected debris, or hostiles, it would eat up valuable breathing time, and she figured she might as well die in her sleep rather than totally panicked and trying to think her way out of the third indisputably fatal situation she'd been in today.

Her last thought, before falling asleep, was that she wondered if the general had known what she was sending her people into. This was not the time she'd been in one of these fucking escape pods, and she was beginning to wonder if her higher-ups considered her disposable.

She awoke to unpleasant sounds and even unpleasanter sensations: the lightheadedness of low oxygen and the forced shuddering wakefulness that the nanites imposed upon her when they perceived her life to be at risk. She rubbed her eyes and squinted out the window and saw the ship that would be her salvation, hopefully.

If she could get into it.

Fuck. How was she going to get into it? It wasn't a ship of any design she recognized -- maybe a good sign, since it meant she hadn't been up against anything like it in combat recently -- but also, how was she going to get in? The hull was pockmarked with the evidence of small impacts, suggesting its shields weren't functioning at all, and the way it was drifting did not seem to be due to any kind of propulsion. Four "wings" of light-collecting panels were folded up, though, which meant probably whoever had brought it out here had done that on purpose to preserve the solar panels from impacts, and there were a few little pink and yellow lights blinking on and off. Warnings? Invitations? "Remember where we parked" signals? It was anyone's guess.

The air was getting really fucking low, and the lights swam before her eyes.

She sent an experimental signal towards it, just to see if it was awake. It took a few seconds, but she got a ping back, and a few more lights stuttered on. So she sent it a request for shelter, and hoped whoever owned this ship was nice, or at the very least wasn't going to take her apart to see how she worked. She'd been there before.

She got a garbled response in characters that didn't resemble any language she knew, but she blinked, and when she opened her eyes again they had resolved into Latin characters. STATE NAME, ALLEGIANCE, REASON FOR REQUEST.

Aw, fuck. This wasn't gonna go well. She briefly considered lying, but it was hard to imagine what they wanted to hear when she didn't know anything about them and also her poor nanites were doing their damnedest to wring every bit of oxygen out of the air and failing.

She had to try. CAPTAIN VICTORIA HEWELL, SOL ALLIANCE, LOW ON OXYGEN, she responded.

The response came back immediately. REQUEST REJECTED.

Shit. Shit shit shit. She typed WHAT THE FUCK, WHY? and then deleted that and instead sent back a more professional query: REASON FOR REJECTION?

NON-RECOGNIZED: INNER SOL ALLIANCE.

It was some fucking automated system, she realized. It had instructions not to let the wrong people in while whoever was in charge was away, and whatever person was supposed to be reviewing the requests was dead or using the bathroom or had fucked off long ago, and she was extremely fucked. I NEED OXYGEN OR I WILL DIE, she explained. Some of these systems were smarter than others.

She waited for a long time -- well, three breaths, but that was a long time these days, given how little those breaths were sustaining her. HAVE YOU TRIED HOLDING YOUR BREATH? the automated system suggested helpfully.

A flash of rage seized her, and in a fit of gleeful hypoxic insanity she sent back GO FUCK YOURSELF YOU STUPID ROBOT I HOPE YOU CHOKE ON A MAGNET. She had just enough time to kind of regret sending that -- the automated system would undoubtedly fail to appreciate either her fury or the end of her life, and it probably wasn't even vulnerable to magnets, and if it was advanced enough to understand her it would probably be offended at being called a robot -- before she passed out again, the dwindling oxygen levels in her blood beyond the capabilities of her nanites' forced wakefulness to help with.

When she came to, gasping, she found herself in a dimly-lit hangar, her escape pod open to let indescribably sweet, fresh-smelling oxygen in. The message flashing on the escape pod screen said WELCOME ABOARD. PLEASE KEEP YOUR MAGNETS TO YOURSELF, ASSHOLE. Then there was a sort of jagged-edged character that looked like... a W, only moreso, maybe? Was it a glitch? A signature? Fuck if she knew. She undid her safety belt and floated free. She was going to have to be more diplomatic than she was good at if she wanted to get back to her life, but at least somebody onboard had a sense of humor.

#whumptober2021 #no.2 #talking is overrated #choking #oc #fic #kaesa op #text #fiction #disaster principality vehuel

[beca-mitchell]

wish i could pretend i didn't need you (1/?)

Summary: Beca Mitchell is born into a life of organized crime, directionless and despondent. Then she meets Chloe Beale.

Word count: 3,347

I know everybody’s focused on Bechloe week stuff and I know there are other things going on, especially with my own fics. But somehow this fic burst out of me in a stroke of inspiration. So to people to whom I still owe prompts/gifts: I’m sorry. I don’t anticipate this fic going beyond 15 chapters, hell we’ll see what happens around the 10 chapter mark based on what I plotted.

Read below or on AO3.

It is a Friday night.

Beca finds herself at her favorite bar. It is an odd hybrid between a karaoke hangout for people who are too drunk to realize how bad they’re doing and a lowkey, dimly-lit hang-out spot where she can be herself without her usual cares and concerns.

“You can go,” Beca says pointedly to her driver. He raises an eyebrow at her. “Seriously,” she promises. “I just want to be alone. I’ll call you if I…” she sighs. “Why am I explaining this to you? Please, just go,” she begs. She hates feeling like a child who needs a constant babysitter. She hates feeling watched and followed, even if it is for her own safety like everybody claims.

It’s tiring, that’s what it is.

Without waiting to see whether the car leaves, Beca turns to quickly make her way inside her safe haven. The bar downtown. A bar with music and drinks and a semblance of normalcy in a city that refuses to define the term ‘normal’ without a million asterisks.

A normal Friday night in Los Angeles.

She likes the music that wraps around her the moment she enters the bar. Barely decipherable because of how loud the bar is. It is the perfect way to both lose herself and be lost in the crowd and the atmosphere of a typical Friday night.

Beca knows exactly what she’s looking for. It’s been a while since she’s had one night of mindless, anonymous sex. She doesn’t think herself too picky, just selective about the kind of woman she can find. Nobody to get attached to, at least not for more than a couple trysts. Nobody too curious.

In her line of work, dating is overrated and entirely unnecessary.

Beca starts at the bar. A quick scan up and down the wooden surface, she can see only completely full drinks and people with dates of their own. The thought makes her scoff—makes her order a drink immediately, then proceed to down it quickly. With the burn in her throat and renewed energy, she quickly scans the crowded space, eyes trained to pick up on significant movements and significant people.

It is then, with a second drink in hand, that Beca spots her. Her eyes catch on this stranger’s hair—the pretty red hair, glinting under shoddy lighting—before her eyes are drawn to the stranger’s easy smile. She appears to be alone as well, or at least, she does for another minute longer before she is accompanied by two other young women. Beca tilts her head, wondering if she has a chance at all, with this stranger. A pretty, kind-looking stranger. With friends, Beca presumes.

“Can I buy you another drink?” Beca asks, slipping into the empty barstool next to the stranger.

Clear blue eyes turn to her, surprised. “I didn’t even hear you behind me.”

“I’d be surprised if you heard anything with how loud this music is blasting.”

A flash of white teeth. She leans closer to Beca, as if she is about to share a secret. “I don’t mind it. I like things loud,” she whispers loudly, adding an exaggerated wink to punctuate her statement.

Beca gapes at her new companion. “I mean. That’s…” She clears her throat, momentary lapse dissipating quickly when the beautiful redhead shifts closer. “So...drink?” she asks, quickly changing the subject. She finds this woman’s personality endearing to say the least, if not a little out there, but Beca thinks she can manage.

“Okay,” the woman agrees. “But you have to join me. Two margaritas, then?”

That’s manageable. Beca orders the two drinks, keeping her eye on the woman out of the corner of her eye. She’s stunned by how easily this woman smiles, but she somehow manages to do it without coming off as completely insane. Maybe a little, Beca muses, but she’s not there to judge.

“What’s your name?” Beca asks, keeping her tone light and just the right amount of disinterested. She slides a drink to the woman, smiling when fingers brush against her own in a clear display of interest.

The stranger giggles, a sound so light and airy that it almost breaks Beca’s resolve. She doesn’t crack. She tries not to, at least.

“Chloe,” she replies, finally. She brushes her hand up the front of Beca’s jacket, brushing against the leather. “I like your jacket.”

The boldness makes Beca swallow her drink a bit too early. “That’s all?” she rasps.

Chloe bites her lip, pretending to think about it. “I mean. Maybe I had more to say. But I noticed you looking at me about an hour ago. You finally made your way over here.” At Beca’s immediate blush and flustered stutter, Chloe pats her jacket again with a giggle before she draws away, sipping innocently at her drink. “What’s your name?”

“Beca.”

“Beca,” Chloe repeats. “I like that.”

To Beca’s immense relief, Chloe doesn’t ask for a last name, nor does she offer a last name of her own. Beca eases into the conversation, relaxing against the bar as Chloe begins to rope her into her orbit. Beca doesn’t even realize it.

* * * * *

“I’m not from around here,” Chloe admits.

“Here as in...Los Angeles or here as in California?”

“Um…” Chloe shifts closer to Beca, comfortable in their little corner of the bar, away from noise and nosy eyes. “Both, I guess? I moved here for a job after finishing school on the other side of the country.”

Beca pretends to gag. “School. Bleh. What’d you study?”

“I’m a vet,” Chloe says with twitch of her lips. “What do you do? Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve bought all my drinks tonight. I’m not complaining.”

Beca laughs, but she finds that she has no real excuses. “I…” Beca trails off, unsure what she can say exactly. “I’m between jobs,” she says evasively. “But I used to work for my dad. After I finished with the whole school thing.” Not quite a lie. She currently isn’t on any jobs for her father, though she’s sure she’ll have something come up over the next couple of weeks. Also not a lie—she did finish a degree at her father’s behest.

“You strike me as a musician,” Chloe says suddenly. She reaches for Beca’s hand, playing with her fingers. “Talented fingers.”

Beca holds back her laugh. Chloe is forward, which is refreshing. That was a move if she had ever seen one. She relaxes for a second, then Beca watches Chloe for a long moment, letting the slow heat spread through her body at the point which their hands are touching.

“What?” Chloe asks, shifting closer still. “Am I wrong?”

“A little,” Beca admits. “But I…” She shakes her head. “Nothing,” she says quickly. “Just a little off.” She glances at their hands, admiring the slender lines of Chloe’s fingers and the softness of her hand. “But...you might not be wrong about other things.” Beca waits for a beat before leaning in, wondering if Chloe will meet her halfway.

Chloe does. Their first kiss is explosive—Beca immediately surges closer, pulling herself further into Chloe’s orbit. Chloe’s lips are impossibly soft, undeniably pliant, and gentle.

* * * * *

It is a Friday night. Nothing out of the ordinary thus far for Beca—her first night off in months.

Her first night off in months and she is being pressed against the wall outside an apartment complex, Chloe’s tongue in her mouth doing absolutely sinful things. And they have, as far as Beca is concerned, a good few hours. But never all night—Beca makes it a point not to stay; she makes it a point not to linger. It is, however, perhaps, maybe, a little difficult to think of anything else at the moment, as the night progresses.

And it has progressed. 

Beca barely manages to take stock of her surroundings, simply allowing Chloe to navigate them into her apartment with ease. She would have never thought Chloe would freely offer up her apartment so quickly, but as they had continued kissing at the bar, Beca found that both their resolves cracked rather quickly. In short order, Chloe divests Beca of her clothes and shoves her onto her bed with a glint.

That had been a mere few minutes ago, both of them too desperate and too aroused to allow for much more else.

“Fuck,” Beca moans. “Fuck, you’re so good at that.” She plants a hand against the headboard, wincing at the strain in her arm. With her free hand, she grabs Chloe’s hair, grinding her hips down, eyes nearly crossing at the rough sensation of Chloe’s tongue against her clit. She gasps with each imprecise stroke between her legs. She wants nothing more than to feel Chloe inside her entirely—fingers, tongue, she’s not picky—but she finds it difficult to articulate more than low, drawn-out moans.

Here, she barely knows this woman’s last name—barely knows her own last name, but she finds that she does not care. Not when Chloe’s hands lock onto her thighs with an iron grip and she begins to sharply flick her tongue over Beca’s sensitive clit. Over and over—Beca cries out, gripping the headboard to the point of injuring her hand, but she does not care. She lets out a groan—somewhere between a groan and gasp—and a string of curses before she is trembling and all but collapsing to the side. Her orgasm ripples through her, like the most pleasurable of waves taking up the spaces in her body. She shudders, tensing her thighs together as Chloe maneuvers them so they are both lying face to face on the bed. Beca tilts her head to receive Chloe’s kiss, which Chloe presses eagerly against her lips. Chloe is all full lips, tongue, and passion, something which only sends heat coiling through Beca’s body again.

As if reading her mind, Chloe pulls back, tongue swiping against her lower lip as she does so. Her hand trails down Beca’s stomach, gently pushing between her legs. “Again,” she rasps, nuzzling her nose against Beca’s. “I want to see you come.” Another kiss, this time with a tug to Beca’s lip between even, blunt teeth. “Didn’t really get to—” another kiss “—see it before.”

And, yeah. Okay. Beca can do that. She nods, pulling Chloe in for another kiss. At around this point, she’d be figuring out an escape from this stranger’s bed and room. But she finds that she wants to stay; she wants to figure out how to make Chloe scream her name or at least make sure that Chloe doesn’t forget their night together.

It feels imperative that she does so.

She is momentarily stricken in the best of ways by Chloe’s hand navigating fully between her legs. She tilts her hips up eagerly, already wet and wanting for Chloe’s fingers. That one orgasm had hardly been enough and whether she chooses to blame it on the alcohol or the fact that she hasn’t been laid in at least four months, she knows that she needs Chloe now. She needs Chloe’s deft, talented fingers inside her.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” Chloe murmurs, voice thick with her own arousal. “Just say something—tell me—”

Beca shakes her head. “No, don’t stop. More.”

Chloe nods, pleased by Beca’s receptiveness and begins slowly dragging her fingers around Beca’s slick cunt, gently coaxing her into an even more heightened state of arousal. Beca wraps an arm around Chloe’s shoulder, pulling her closer still. She traces the top of Chloe’s spine, marvelling at each bump and ridge before she tires and traces the smooth muscles across her back, pleased by the shiver that she feels ripple through Chloe’s body.

Chloe shifts so she hovers over her, covering her body with her own. Beca clutches at Chloe’s back, sighing pleasurably. “Mm—fuck,” Beca murmurs, back arching when Chloe’s fingers sink inside her without preamble. She groans at how full she feels—had it really been that long?—and immediately craves more of that sensation. “Go,” she urges. “More, please, Chloe.”

“You like that,” Chloe whispers, breath hot against Beca’s ear. “You’re so tight, Bec—” the nickname falls so easily from her lips. It sends an unexpected flash through Beca, renewed arousal and all. “I’m going to make you remember my name.”

Beca isn’t entirely sure she would have ever forgotten, regardless of the circumstances.

* * * * *

Beca learns, fairly quickly, what it is that makes Chloe tick. She learns exactly where to kiss and nip to make Chloe sigh. She learns where to suck to make Chloe whimper and moan. She learns exactly how to curl her fingers inside Chloe to make her scream her name with unabashed pleasure.

She learns all about the physicality of this woman, but she cannot, for the life of her, figure out why she seems to crave more. In her sleep-deprived, alcohol-induced haze, she fumbles through the darkness of her own consciousness even as she continues to kiss Chloe’s neck and her chest.

She wants so much more.

“Beca,” Chloe rasps, pulling her back to the present. “Oh, Beca, that feels amazing.” Hands press on the top of her head, urging her downwards towards where Chloe needs her most—the place where she is wettest and where she aches for Beca.

It’s nice, Beca thinks, with a small moan of her own, to be so wanted.

* * * * *

Beca doesn’t remember falling asleep. She remembers Chloe’s lips against her own, the press of Chloe’s lips against her inner thigh. She remembers what it had felt like to press her fingers inside Chloe for the first time—the strain in her arm as she attempted to keep up with Chloe’s enthusiasm for her fingers.

She has never done this before. Sleeping over at a stranger’s apartment or house. Staying the night.

It’s new.

It’s also new, feeling a warm arm draped around her middle possessively. The curves pressing up and down her back. The mild discomfort of skin against skin beneath the chill of the air conditioning because their blanket was kicked halfway down the bed.

All of it feels so new and it makes Beca want to run and yet, she stays. She stays, gets even more comfortable in Chloe’s bed, and decides to sleep for another couple of hours.

It’s nice, feeling like she has nowhere to be.

Sleepily, from behind Beca, Chloe nuzzles into her neck with a degree of comfort that would alarm Beca normally. She nuzzles into Beca with sleepy care, clearly somewhere between being awake and asleep like Beca is herself.

The soft press of her nose and lips against Beca’s skin is comfortable. Like she has been there all her life.

* * * * *

It is a Saturday morning.

When Beca wakes again, it is due to the ray of sunlight shining almost directly across her eyes. She groans, lifting her arm to cover her eyes.

“Morning,” Chloe’s voice says, clear as day from the kitchen area. Beca blinks, lifting her head slightly. Her heart pounds as she takes in the reality of the situation: she had slept over—she had stayed overnight. She had broken her one rule about one-night-stands. “You’re up,” Chloe continues cheerily, clearly unaware of Beca’s inner turmoil.

“Um...yeah. What time is it?” Beca groans. “Good morning,” she adds hastily, as to not be completely rude.

“Just after nine. You were sleeping like a log, so I got some coffee and breakfast.” Chloe moves towards the bed from the kitchen, making Beca fully aware of the spacious studio space and open layout of Chloe’s apartment. “Hi,” Chloe murmurs, sitting on the edge of the bed. She helps Beca sit up, handing her a bagel. “Hope you like cream cheese.”

“I...I do,” Beca whispers. She sits up, surprised by how comfortable she feels baring herself to Chloe after their night together. Chloe smiles pleasantly at her, clearly delighted that Beca is receptive to breakfast. “Thank you,” she adds, sincerity in her tone. She doesn’t say it aloud, but it has been a while since she’s enjoyed any form of breakfast in bed, let alone a substantial breakfast of any kind that wasn’t an extra large iced coffee for the road.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” Chloe asks. “I can drive you.”

“You have a car?” Beca asks, surprised. At Chloe’s raised eyebrow, she laughs awkwardly, attempting to brush it off. “No, I just meant—I don’t know. Most people our age don’t really have...a car,” she finishes lamely.

“Oh? How do you know I’m not like twenty years older than you?”

Beca tugs at the sheets nervously. “I guess,” Beca stammers, pink tainting her cheeks. “I guess...I guessed,” she murmurs slowly.

Chloe laughs, settling even further on the bed, stretching out. “I’m kidding, I’m twenty-seven. I just turned twenty-seven.”

“Oh, okay. I’m twenty-five.”

“Nice to meet you, Beca, twenty-five,” Chloe announces. She sends a mock-salute towards Beca, playful smile still playing on her lips.

Beca lets some tension ease from her body. She isn’t sure where the ease comes from, but she feels incredibly comfortable talking to Chloe. Incredibly open, despite how vulnerable she feels being significantly underdressed while Chloe lounges in her leggings and button-up shirt across from her. Still, she feels the same undeniable attraction to this woman—the same attraction from the night before. It lingers, hot in her chest, drifting into her belly.

She doesn’t do this. Not usually. Not ever.

“Mitchell,” Beca says quietly while Chloe fiddles with her phone. Her voice causes Chloe to look up. “My name is Beca Mitchell.”

Chloe’s smile is incredibly radiant, enough to light up the whole room. More than the sun itself, creeping its way past the half-open curtains. Behind her head, as if the universe is further highlighting Chloe’s mere presence in Beca’s life—a miracle of sorts, if anything—there is a halo of sunlight, lighting up red strands like the tiny sparks and flames Beca feels rippling through her body. Chloe clears her throat. “We have all morning, Beca Mitchell. If you’re up for it, that is.”

“All morning?” Beca questions. She is sure wonder is written all over her face.

“I...want to get to know you. If that’s okay.”

Oh. Beca swallows. Chloe’s eyes are even more blue than Beca remembers. She is unable to look away, even for a moment, but she isn’t sure that she would even want to, not when she is so incredibly captivated by Chloe. “That’s okay…” Beca finishes by nibbling on her bagel, unsure what else Chloe wants her to say or do. She finds that she is not afraid of these completely unchartered waters, so long as she gets to dive in, head-first, with Chloe.

Chloe rises from the bed so she can sit closer to where Beca is reclining. Slowly, she leans in, eyes watching carefully for anything that Beca might be resistant to—any indication that Beca doesn’t want this.

Beca has never had a morning after—not one that mattered, at least. She is so riveted by the slow way Chloe leans in to kiss her; she is so enthralled by the way Chloe occupies all the spaces that she didn’t know she had—all the capacities she didn’t know existed within her in that moment.

Like a dam breaking, an unexpected surge passes over Beca. She reaches up quickly, pulling Chloe in to close the rest of the distance between them.

“Beale,” Chloe whispers against her lips. Her free hand glides up Beca’s body before she pries her bagel from her hand and sets it aside.

“What?” Beca asks, distracted by Chloe’s wandering hand.

“My name is Chloe Beale.”

Nice to meet you, Beca thinks. It is such a pleasant, reassuring thought that it fills her with something more than her usual existential dread.

It is warm.

Gentle.

She thinks of nothing else for the rest of the morning, simply intent on getting to know Chloe Beale beyond just the feeling of her skin beneath her fingertips.

fin ch. 1

#bechloe #pitch perfect #bechloe fanfiction #beca mitchell #chloe beale #mafia au #mine #my fanfic #bechloe fic

[amydancepants-peralta]

the shape of you 

(aka, Jake and Amy’s first night *together*, post-Mac) - rated NSFW. 💗

the shape of you 

With her fingers gripped around the base of a washcloth Amy Santiago wipes her bathroom mirror clear of all remaining condensation, casting a discerning eye over the reflection that stares back at her as she drops the towel into the nearby hamper.  

It feels like it was only yesterday - but realistically, had been close to six years ago - since she had stood in this very position and prepared for her first date with Jake.  It was a lapse of time that felt as though it had passed in a blink, and tonight there was a part of Amy that longed for the simpler times; when her biggest concern had been how to style her hair, second only to which of the two recently purchased dresses she should wear.  

(Her final decision to wear her hair down, based purely in the hope that Jake’s fingers may end up running through her curls, had clearly been an excellent one - and one that she definitely thanked herself for making later that evening.)

She still remembers the nerves she’d felt that night (that kind of thrumming that seems to run through your veins when you just know you’re on the verge of something amazing), remembers the feeling of the kiss he gave her outside the restaurant.  The way the scent of him had filled her senses as he moved closer, pushing her gently against the exterior with careful hands on either side of her hips.  The scratch of the brick against her lower back until his hands moved between her and the stone, simultaneously protecting her from harm and drawing her into his arms.  The soft sigh she’d let out as their tongues brushed up against each other … the way her body felt like it was melting into his embrace.  

It was the kind of kiss that made Amy forget all the rules (made her forget anything other than how hard her heart was beating against his ribcage) - the kind of kiss that confirmed for her, even if she wasn’t completely ready to admit it - that this thing between them was more than just ‘like’.  The rest, as one would say, is history - and while Amy knows that her and Jake’s love story may never compare to the works of Austen or Brontë, theirs will always remain her favourite.  

And now, two toothbrushes live in their holder by the sink, her perfume sits comfortably beside the same brand of cologne from that evening, and a series of colourful turtle decals are stuck to the side of their bathtub (supervised from above by the requisite rubber ducky).  Clearly, a lot had changed - but the one thing that seems to have made a return appearance from their first night together, is the kaleidoscope of butterflies that have taken up residence in her stomach.  

Tonight was Date Night for her and Jake - their first since she’d given birth to Mac close to seven weeks ago - and in true Santiago style, Amy had spent what free time she’d had over the past few days researching the topic of postpartum sex.  Standing in front of the mirror now, with her favourite black lacy underwear hiding underneath her robe and far too much awareness of the dark circles under her eyes, Amy was - for the first time in her life - regretting all the studying she had done.

It had been hard not to get lost amongst it all - articles on episiotomies (a side effect of childbirth that, thankfully, she had managed to avoid), scores of medical advice on when is the right time and endless testimonials from other new mothers, most talking about their total loss of sex drive or lack of primal response to their partner’s advances.  And even though logically, Amy knows that there is little to no chance of that happening to her and Jake (their sex life pre-baby, by all accounts, had always been healthy - especially so during her pregnancy), it had been enough to plant a seed of doubt in her mind - one that seems to have flourished into something far greater as the hours wore on.  

It had, after all, only been a few weeks ago that her underwear had been made of mesh, and housed icepacks to aid the healing of her nether regions.  Even less since her bra had needed to fight for space amongst the lactation pads that held court, replaced on the regular as she and Mac tried to figure out some kind of routine when it came to feeding.  For a while there, the sexiest thing that either her or Jake could say to the other was ‘you keep sleeping, I’ll take this round’; and now there was a dress hanging in their wardrobe that was a size larger than normal, and a set of stripes on her stomach that remained a constant reminder that things were not as they used to be.  

Amy’s hands fiddle with the contents of her makeup bag, toying with the curved edge of her favourite shade of lipstick as her mind continues to race.  It was insane, to think this way: and if Jake’s attentiveness to her since giving birth to Mac was anything to go by - his clear attraction to her at all stages of their relationship, actually - her doubts were going to be unfounded.  

It had, in fact, only been three days ago that both she and Jake had miraculously woken up before their son … and sleepy morning cuddles had turned into a heavy makeout session, evolving into something a little more before Mac’s indignant ‘I’ve just woken up’ cry filled their apartment and pulled everything to a stop.  (Their plans for this evening had been made that very afternoon, with both of them agreeing that perhaps a little bit of ‘Mommy and Daddy time’ was needed.)  

Deep down, Amy knew that the bond that she and Jake shared was stronger than anything either had ever known - but the doubts still lingered all the same, and there was only one person she wanted to talk about them with.

As if on cue, “Amy Santiago!  Date time!  Time to date!” cuts through their previously quiet apartment, and Amy grins into the mirror as she hears her husband’s keys land in the bowl next to hers, finally returning from dropping Mac off at Grandma Karen’s for his overnight visit.  Already, she can feel the tension begin to leave her shoulders, calling out a greeting in return as she listens to his footsteps move around their kitchen.  

Their home seems strangely quiet without Mac’s presence - largely, because Jake wasn’t singing or talking out his actions as he went, like he did so often when carrying Mac around - and she’s just about to call Jake into the bathroom when his singing voice begins to float down the hallway.  

“I think we’re alone now …” the somehow still familiar melody of the 80s song builds in volume as Jake makes his way towards her, and Amy lets out a giggle.  It’s a song that a 10 year old version of Amy, resplendent in some version of taffeta, would have absolutely danced to at a cousin’s quinceanera.  And while her younger self might be disappointed that her husband didn’t turn out to be a version of Magnum P.I., the Amy that looks back at her in the mirror today, laughing loudly at the man walking towards her, knows that there couldn’t ever be a man better for her than Jake Peralta. 

(Moustaches are overrated, anyway.  They’re a treasure trove of crumbs, and leave you with a permanent pash rash.  Great in theory, but a little morning stubble is much more enjoyable.)

His smile is beyond bright as he passes through the bathroom door, a glass of wine held high in each hand as he hums the last few bars of Tiffany’s greatest (and perhaps, only) hit.  “Hey babe - wow, good lord you are gorgeous.”  

Feeling the tip of her ears heat up at Jake’s statement, Amy smiles at her husband through the mirror, busying herself with a tube of mascara and quickly changing the subject.  “How did Mac go?”

Moving further into the room, Jake leans in to drop a kiss to Amy’s shoulder before placing her glass of wine on the counter.  “Uh, it seemed to go okay?”  Leaning his weight against the wall beside him, he takes a sip before continuing.  “Is it weird how much I missed him, like, the instant I closed Mom’s front door?”

Pulling away from her reflection, Amy turns to face her husband with an understanding grin.  “Not at all.  I felt like a part of me was missing the second the two of you left an hour ago.”  Shrugging, she gives him a sheepish look.  “Almost texted you to bring him home immediately, coz I wasn’t sure I could actually go without seeing him for a night.”

“Okay, yeah.  That makes total sense, because I literally almost turned the car around twice.”

“Ugh, we really are just lovestruck parents, aren’t we?”

“Oh, absolutely.  But, I have to say … I’m also really glad we’re getting to do this.”

Amy’s responding smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and the knots in her stomach tighten as she notices Jake pick up on the difference.  

His gaze is careful, holding onto the silence for a beat.  “Ames?”

Her fingers fiddle with the lid of the mascara, lifting and dropping the wand exactly the way she’d been taught not to do, and suddenly all the words she wants to say have jumbled up at the tip of her tongue.  Leaning forward, Jake stretches out his hand to reach for her wrist, and she drops her cosmetics back into the bag without hesitation - the need for her husband’s reassurance too strong to ignore.  The warmth of his palm, tied in with the coolness of his wedding band, is a welcome distraction from the uncertainty running through her mind.  

“Is there something you want to talk about?”

Amy nods, knitting her eyebrows as she lifts her shoulders in a self-conscious shrug.  “I … might have spent a little time the last couple of days, researching into what sex can be like after having a baby.”

Dropping his bottom lip slightly, Jake nods in understanding.  “It wouldn’t be you if you hadn’t.  But, babe … you know that we don’t have to do anything like that tonight if you don’t feel ready, right?  We can just go to dinner, and fall asleep on the couch if you want to.” 

Squeezing his hand, Amy is quick to nod in response.  “I do know, and I also know that I’ve been looking forward to tonight.  Like .. a LOT.”  Throwing a wink, Jake squeezes her hand in kind.  “I just …”  Pulling her fingers out of Jake’s grip, Amy pulls the already closed lapels of her robe tighter.  “There are still so many things happening to my body that I don’t have a lot of control over, and I can’t help but worry a little that it’s only a matter of time before …”

“Before?”

Amy’s chin falls to her chest, folding her arms in front before resting her weight against the bathroom sink.  Despite all of the reasons why she knew these fears to be irrational, they weren’t showing any signs of going away - and if there’s anyone that can help clear her mind, it’s Jake.  Slowly, she raises her head to watch his reaction.  “We’ve always had such a great relationship when it comes to being open and affectionate, and the sex - well, you know how good the sex is, but … I don’t know, what if .... what if things happen, and that changes?”

Jake’s reply is so quick - so factual that it makes her heart quicken at the simplicity of it all.  “Then we work at it.”  Pushing himself off from the wall, Jake comes to stand in front of Amy, tipping one finger underneath her chin and lifting her face towards his.  Bright brown eyes stare into hers, so full of sincerity she wants to cry.  “We grow, and we change with it.  There’s nothing that we can’t overcome, Ames.  Nothing.” 

It’s everything that she already knew to be true, but felt far more authentic when coming from her husband.  She’d felt a little ridiculous to be saying any of it, but it would seem that even the securest of relationships needed a little reassurance now and them.  Trying her best to ignore the tears that are threatening to fall from behind her eye, Amy raises her brows.  “You really think so?”

“I know so.  Babe.”  His hands move smoothly, wrapping themselves around her waist and locking at her lower back.  “You’re my best friend, the greatest person I’ve ever known - and the most sexiest, might I add - plus, the mother of my child.  It’s just not possible for any single universe to exist, where I won’t love you forever.”  Leaning in, Jake rests his forehead against hers, taking a deep breath.  “We’ve had to overcome so many obstacles, and nothing has beaten us.  You’re the love of my life, Amy Santiago, and there is literally not a chance that anything will ever change that.”

It’s all it takes for the threatened tears to begin to fall, and Amy tries her best to blink them away as she stretches onto her toes, lifting herself up to meet Jake’s lips for a kiss.  “I love you, Jake.  And I’m sorry for all the crazy talk, I just - ”

“Ames.”  Jake interrupts, a solemn look falling onto his face.  “I’m always going to want to hear how you’re feeling.  I know you’d do the same for me, and I don’t want you to think there’s anything that you can’t tell me, okay?”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Amy affirms with a kiss, sighing softly into Jake’s mouth as it deepens.  It’s felt like so long since they’ve been able to do this - to just stand and kiss for no other reason than to be close to one another.  His eyes are glazed by the time she pulls away, and it’s enough to spark a tiny fire in her heart, and so she leans in for another.  

Jake’s voice is muffled slightly when he speaks, waiting for a break in kisses to speak.  “We’re going to be late for the restaurant if we’re not careful.”

In what is perhaps the easiest decision she’s had to make in a long time, Amy tightens her grip around Jake’s neck, pulling him in for another hot kiss before whispering against his supple lips - “Fuck the restaurant.  And please, fuck me.”

She feels Jake’s hands grip her butt in an instant, digging in as he lifts her with ease.  Her legs wrap around his waist, a move that has been done a thousand times before but tonight feels so new, his responding moan sending a wave of shivers up and down her spine as he shuffles them towards the doorway.  

There’s a crib half adorned with muslin wraps and a colourful play mat on the floor near their bed for Jake to dodge, but he moves their joined bodies with a practiced ease, never pausing to adjust his grip until Amy can feel the softness of their pillows beneath her head.  

The smile he gives her as he hovers above is so soft, the adoration clear as she moves to shove his hoodie from his shoulders.  It falls to the floor as his nimble fingers work on the knot of her robe, letting the silk slip through with ease, and Amy can feel her heart begin to race as the material falls away.  She knows that it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before - between marriage and motherhood, there literally isn’t a part of her body that Jake doesn’t know like the back of his hand - but she’s still conscious that the bra is a little tighter than it used to be, and the softness of her post-birth tummy remains.  

And then Jake sighs, his eyes raking over her body as he whispers, “You’re so goddamn sexy, Santiago,” and suddenly, Amy doesn’t feel like a new mother with formula in her hair and suitcases under her eyes.  Suddenly, she feels like a woman - a beautiful, desirable woman who somehow managed to capture the heart of the sweetest man to ever walk the earth.  His hands wrap around her waist, lifting her middle towards his as his legs slot in between hers, and the feeling of her husband’s passionate kisses is something that Amy never wants to go without again.  

It doesn’t take long before the rest of their clothing has landed on the floor - a sense of urgency to their movements is something they’ve gotten used to, now that the likelihood of being interrupted has become so high - and it isn’t until Jake begins a trail of kisses down Amy’s jawline that she takes a calming breath.  She feels giddy, like it’s been far longer than seven weeks since they’ve been able to be together like this (eight, if you counted the last time they had sex before Mac’s early arrival), and the feeling of her husband’s hard dick nudging against her thigh was making her crave more, and she wanted it NOW. 

The scent of Jake washes over her as his head dips lower - same as it did all those years ago, only now the scent felt less like cologne and more like home - and her fingers dive into the curls of his hair as his tongue circles the outside of her nipple with the careful consideration of a man who has watched her wince in pain some early mornings.  His teeth scrape along the underside of her breast, the feeling of his breath hot against her skin as he moves to her left to repeat.  With her free hand, Amy traces the length of his back, holding him close as her fingers run over the dips and scars that she knows oh so well, feeling her hips thrust up instinctively towards her husband as his reverent kisses move further down her body.  She can feel the warmth of her arousal pooling in her folds, and it genuinely feels as though she might combust if something doesn’t happen soon.  

Jake lifts his head on the way down, the desire in his eyes obvious as he settles himself at the end of their bed, caressing the outside of her thighs as they settle on his shoulders.  His voice is gruff, the rough sound of a turned on Jake making a welcome return to her ears, and Amy grins.  “Okay, babe?” 

Her heart is racing with both anticipation and nerves, but Amy nods anyway.  She knows that things might be a little different (pushing a tiny human out of your body kinda has that affect), but she also knows the way she’s feeling right now, part of her might just fall apart completely if she doesn’t get to feel Jake’s mouth work it’s magic on her.  

Thankfully, he doesn’t make her wait any longer. 

He starts by rubbing the tip of his nose against her clit, a slow and deliberate up-and-down motion that ends far too quickly, looking up at her with a devious grin as he turns his head to place a tender kiss on the inside of her thigh.  Amy huffs in dissatisfaction, narrowing her eyes in silent reproach, only to throw her head back into the pillow as Jake immediately relocates to where she needs him the most.  His gentle tongue sweeps over her clit with each kiss, lapping up her arousal as the tip of his finger circles her entrance.

“Ames,” Jake whispers, and if it wasn’t for the feeling of his voice vibrating against her over-sensitive body, Amy would swear she’d imagined it.  “Ames, look up for me.”

His fingers, now moving in a circular motion around her folds; are making it very hard for Amy to concentrate on anything right now, and it takes another breath or two before she can lift her head.  Jake smiles as their eyes lock, holding her gaze as he speaks.  

“I love every single part of you, Ames.  This right here?”  He pauses, dropping a kiss on just the outside edge of where she’s craving him before looking up again.  “It shows me how much you want me.  How much you want to be with me, and it's so hot, it drives me crazy.”   His tongue flicks out, drawing a long, thick line against her folds, and her pelvis arches up towards his touch as his fingers slowly enter.  “You’ve literally spilt yourself open to give birth to our child, and you’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”  Carefully, they begin to pump in and out of her, settling into a gentle rhythm that sets all of Amy’s nerve endings on fire.  “You’re a goddess, Amy Santiago.  And I love you more than I can say.”

“I - unhhh! - I love you too,  Jake.”  Her reply is breathless, broken in two as Jake’s tongue returns to her clit, settling into a pattern that increases in intensity - the way he does whenever he knows Amy is about two seconds away from losing all control.  Her left hand travels down until her fingers are running through his hairline, holding him in place with her gentle grip.  

“I’m never not going to want you, babe.”  His breath is hot against her skin, the tiny stubble of his five o’clock shadow ticking her inner thigh as he deviates to place a series of kisses before leading straight back to her centre.  There’s a slight crook to his fingers now, as they continue to move in and out at a steady pace, and it’s enough for both of them to moan their assent.  “So good, Ames.” 

“Oh god babe, right there - yes!”  Jake’s mouth returns to her clit, suckling on her nub as his tongue continues its assault, and its all Amy needs to feel before her mouth falls open in ecstasy, a silent scream of satisfaction falling short in her mouth as her right arm flails up to grip their metal headboard, desperate for something to ground her before her entire body begins to convulse.  It had been so. long. since she’d been able to feel like that … so long since there hadn’t been anything between them, and she’d (almost) forgotten just how damn hard it made her heart race.  

(From his position at the base of the bed, Jake wraps his hand around his erection and gives himself a few solid strokes at the sight of his wife in post-orgasmic bliss, already certain that the image is going to stay in his memory for a long time to come.)     

Amy’s left hand digs into Jake’s hair as she comes down from the high, her fingers carding through the messy half-curls in that way that seems to relax both herself and her husband every time.  “You’re always going to want me?”

His gaze grows soft, and after leaving another kiss against her thigh Jake raises up, the comforter around Amy shifting slightly as he moves towards her.  The familiar feeling of his bare skin against hers calms Amy’s to no end as Jake hovers above, all the love in the world shining in his eyes as he leans down and presses his lips to hers.  “Always.”

Shifting slightly underneath her husband, Amy moves to grip his hard cock in her hand, following the length of his shaft with her palm as Jake moans above her.  She watches as his teeth dig into his lower lip, biting down harder as she increases her pace, and she tightens her hold before releasing him completely as his hips lift slightly away.  

“Don’t wanna come until I’m inside you,” he whispers, pulling her in for the deepest of kisses before settling in-between her thighs and lining himself up.  Amy feels herself tense up, the tiniest sliver of apprehension remaining as her legs widen slightly, and Jake rests his weight on his forearms above her before entering just the tip, pulling out and waiting for her cue to return.  

Lifting her pelvis in invitation, Amy holds onto Jake’s gaze as he enters another inch inside her; holding for a moment this time before pulling out completely, returning again with another longer stroke.  It’s something that he’s never done before, but was actually the perfect way for Amy to feel reacquainted, and as he repeats the process inch by inch, she gradually feels the last tendrils of tension begin to fade.  

Finally, their bodies are hard up against each other, and Amy can’t help but let out a heavy breath as the intimacy of it all envelops her.

“Hey.”  His thumb traces her cheek, following the contour of her cheekbone, and it’s definitely not the hormones that are going to make her cry.  With eyes so soft Amy could almost dive into them, Jake gives her a tender smile.  “I’ve missed you.”

Amy’s hands trace the subtle lines along his arms and shoulders before resting on either side of Jake’s neck, dipping her fingertips into the base of his hairline as she returns his smile.  “I’ve missed you too, babe.  I love you.”

Jake responds with a kiss, the press of his lips against hers so loving and familiar that Amy cranes her neck to chase for more when it ends.  He gives her a knowing smile, nudging the tip of his nose against hers before diving in for another, moving his hips in careful thrusts as his tongue sweeps gently against hers.   

Logistically, Amy knows that the feeling of togetherness and completion is what making love is all about - but still, as Jake moves above her and she finds her body responding to his steady rhythm, she finds herself overwhelmed by the emotions washing over her.  There were times as a new mother when her body had not felt like her own - like she was merely a walking vehicle for any and all of her son’s needs - but laying here with Jake, feeling all of the other parts of her body awaken at his touch, made her feel so alive. 

In her husband’s arms, Amy feels incredible like an irresistible woman, like the goddess he’s always insisted she is.  And, most importantly - she feels loved.  

Jake’s pace increases, his crazily sexy eyes locking onto hers as he lets out a breathless moan, and Amy feels her lower body instinctively lifting towards his to meet his thrusts.  “Oh god, babe … you feel incredible.”  Amy’s shoulder blades dig into the mattress as she presses her chest against her husband’s in response, elongating her neck and letting out a satisfied sigh as Jake dips down to lick the sweat off her skin.  

It’s his breathless version of her name a moment later that makes Amy break out into a grin, tightening her grip around his lower waist and digging her fingernails into his butt.  Jake takes the cue, speeding up again as Amy’s legs tighten around him, sinking her teeth into his shoulder before shifting her weight and rolling him onto his back.  

The movement makes his cock slide almost completely out of her, a situation Amy is quick to rectify, throwing him a sly grin as she sidles down.  Jake’s teeth sink into his lower lip as their bodies join back together again, a reaction to the sensations that Amy finds herself mirroring, stretching out her spine as she flips her hair back and settles her weight on her husband’s thighs.  

It was a moment just like this that she had been afraid of - being in front of her husband in all her naked glory, highlighting all the newly marked curves of her body with no chance for cover.  But one look at his face - at the sheer amount of adoration and attraction she finds there, made it clear that when it comes to being loved by somebody like Jake Peralta, there was never going to be anything to fear.  

And so she moves, clenching the muscles in her upper thighs as she rises and falls, dipping her pelvis back and forth so that she can really feel every part of him.  Jake’s hands fall to her legs, fingertips digging into her soft flesh as he moans beneath her, sliding up to her stomach as she leans forward to rest one hand on his chest.  He grins up at her, tracing gentle circles against her skin with his thumbs as he pumps his hips up to meet her every time, and maybe this is the hormones but Amy swears she’s about to either laugh or cry.  It’s only taken a moment, but one smile from her husband, and all of her apprehensions are gone completely.   

Amy feels the stretch of her ribcage with every staggered breath she takes, gripping Jake’s lower legs from behind as she sets their movements into a steady rhythm.  “Babe … Jake.  Ohh, I’ve missed this.”

She lets out a moan as she feels Jake’s hand slide up her slick skin, moving towards one breast and cupping her there, carefully circling her nipple with his thumb while his other hand moves to replicate on the other side.  It feels incredible, her husband’s touch - especially when coupled with the feeling of his erection inside her - and there’s a breathless affirmation of the same bubbling out of her throat when his hands move to her lower ribs, holding her steady as he lifts his back off of the mattress and pulls Amy in for a kiss.  

It’s sloppy, the messy kind of kiss lovers give each other when their bodies are moving at too steady a pace for it to be anything but, but Jake takes the chance to bend his knees behind, silently encouraging Amy to lean back slightly as her own legs stretch out behind him.  She can feel the pulse of blood rushing back to her upper thighs as her feet join together behind Jake’s back, holding him in place as she leans against his knees and lifts her pelvis up and down at this new angle.  It’s perfect - it’s tantalising, especially once her husband’s skilled fingers reach down to play with her clit - and it’s definitely going to make her come.  

“I love you so much, Ames.  I’m so lucky to have you, you don’t even know,”  Jake’s voice is strained, a surefire sign that he himself isn’t far away from completion, and Amy cannot resist the chance to lean forward - looping one arm around his neck and puling him in for another kiss.  She loves this man, with everything that she has, and it’s the thought of what they have together that finally pulls her over the edge, crying into his mouth as her second orgasm of the night washes over her.  It’s clearly all that Jake has been waiting for, the sound of his own moans mixing with Amy’s as he makes one final push towards release.  

It takes a while for either of them to disentangle themselves from their upright position, their mixed gasps for breaths the only sound in the room until Jake pulls himself out of his sex-induced haze, covering the section of Amy’s neck he has access to with kisses as she lets out a satisfied sigh.  Her legs tingled (as did some other places), and part of her cannot wait to write her own (highly positive) account of postpartum sex on the forums she’d visited earlier in the week.  But there was something she wanted more than that; and as Jake falls back onto the mattress below she follows suit, tucking herself into the juncture of his neck and shoulder - and just like that, things were exactly as they should be again.

There’s still a latent note of exhaustion in Jake’s voice when he speaks, but his tightened grip around Amy’s naked body begs her not to move as he turns slightly to glance at the clock on her nightstand.  “You know, if we moved quickly, we could probably still make our reservations … just blame it all on a flat tire or something.”

Sighing into Jake’s chest, Amy shifts impossible closer before shrugging her shoulders half-heartedly.  “We could … or, we could order takeout.  Eat, talk, have more sex … whatever.”

Twisting his neck slightly, Jake ducks his head down to meet Amy’s lips with a chaste kiss.  “It’s official.  My wife is a genius.”

In an hour, there will be an extra blanket laid out on top of the bed, and Jake and Amy will alternate cartons of takeout as they talk about everything that’s happened over the last two months.  It’ll be another hour before their meals have been cleared away completely; another again before Jake lifts his head off of his resting place on Amy’s abdomen, leaning in for a kiss that definitely leads to Round Two.  They’ll end up sleeping the rest of the night away, curled up into each other’s arms as they relish the silence - yet already dreaming of picking their son up in the morning and looking for all the ways he might have grown during his one night away.  

But for now, Amy will rest in her husband’s arms, basking in the feeling of his fingertips as they trace lazy patterns on her bare skin.  Change, after all, is inevitable.  But the world that she and Jake have built - for both themselves and their family - is strong enough to take on anything.  

And truthfully, that is all she will ever need.  

#this took forever to write ... but I hope you enjoy! #peraltiago smutfic #peraltiago fanfiction #peraltiago fic #post-baby bangin' #my writing #b99fanfic #b99 fic

[thewalkingfanfictions]

Anger-Fueled Sympathy (Raph x reader)

Anger-Fueled Sympathy — Raphael Hamato x Fem!Reader

Description: Raph is out blowing off steam on a usual big-city night, when he comes across something very not-so-nice between a father and a daughter.

⚠Warning⚠: abuse, cussing, blood, injured! reader, physical abuse and verbal abuse, I kept it mainly suggested though, and not actually played out in the scene, angst.

Genre: angst, I think? Maybe counts as hurt comfort?

Pairing: Raphael Hamato x injured!abused!fem!reader

A/N: I don't even actually remember writing this one, but I don't absolutely hate it, so I'm posting it anyway. It's not even finished, but I'm not in the same tone as I was when I wrote it, and I know if I tried I'd just make it worse, so you're getting it like this. Sorry. I might still come back and finish it later if I find that vibe again, though, if anybody actually wants that. This is super unedited too, by the way, just a warning. Toodles.

Words without A/N: 2185

Masterlist

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The large figure darted through the night, nimbly launching over alleyways and around electrical sheds that perched atop the tall New York buildings; a rather intimidating sight for any miscreants out on the street during the late night. His eyes glowed white with anger, fists clenched around his leather-bound sais.

The beast was fuming. Angry beyond belief. His brothers, oh, his brothers. They were all against him, he thought. All trying to get under his skin and only aimed to torture him. They all only saw him for the big, anger-fueled, brute he was on the outside. No one ever saw him for him.

Launching his way across a rooftop garden, the man-beast finally came to a halt. Still fuming, he glared around for something to take his anger out on, and aimed his fury on the side of a stair-well arch. His fists pounded into the metal over and over, beating it until his knuckles bled, and the thin tin material buckled under his abuse. Still angry, he turned away, pacing back and forth, plastron heaving heavily with each of his breaths.

He finally stopped, and dropped to his knees, tossing the twin sais to his sides as he did. The distressed beast held his head in his hands, rocking back and forth on his knees, and silently sobbed into his palms. This was the side of him that he never wanted to show his brothers, but at the same time desperately needed them to know about. Emotions are overrated, he thought.

Finally, as his breathing began to soften, and his tears began to dry, he began to become more aware of his surroundings. Off to his left, he could almost swear he could hear a voice shouting, angry, it seemed. And another voice was there, too, that he was sure of, this one smaller, and thinner, much more fragile than the other, and sounding almost.... desperate. straightening up, the creature looked around for the sound, desperate to find the fear-filled voice that now shrieked in terror. The voices were getting closer, now. Vibrant against the usual quietness (well, as quiet as New York can get) of the late night. It was almost too late to jump into the shadows by the time he realized that the disembodied voices were coming up through the tin-roofed building that he had been beating incessantly only a moment ago.

The door flew open with much more force than necessary, and a frightened looking girl that smelled of fresh blood and black cherry blossoms shot out, turning and slamming the door behind her, struggling with the handle for a moment before she managed to flip the piece of metal that kept the door from locking over, and finally slammed the door shut once and for all.

A body flew into the other side, trying to force its way out from the building, shouting and screaming vulgar terms with awful accusation. The girl backed away from the door, coming farther into the light of some nearby lamp posts, and the beast saw something that made his blood boil worse than anything his brothers could ever do.

The girl was wearing nothing but a tank top and shorts, panting heavily and letting out broken sobs every once in a while. Her face was a mask of fear, and was nearly completely covered in blood. Her arms were covered in bruises and cuts, and a dark spot on the white fabric across the ribs of her tank that grew with each coming second made him think she bled there, too. Her legs were battered and bruised, her knees bleeding and her tiny, bare feet nearly blue with the cold. Though there was no snow on the ground, the cold October nights were still in below freezing temperatures. Her small frame began to shiver as the wind began to pick up, blowing her (hair length), matted, (hair color) hair into her eyes.

The man's voice still bellowed from behind the doorway, still continued to shout those awful things, calling her names that should never be said, and threatening her life and her home. The beast stood silently in the shadows, fearing that he may scare the small girl farther than she already was with his presence.

There was a beat of silence from the man behind the door, before an enormous thud sounded and the door bulged suddenly with the weight of something. Again and again, the man rammed the door in an attempt to get out to her. And, naturally, the girl stumbled backwards in an attempt to get farther away. Tripping backwards over her own feet, she hit the ground and called out in pain at the same time.

Slowly, she lifted herself on one arm, the other held tight against her abdomen. Flipping so that she sat on her knees, she gently pulled the item that had skewered her from her arm, where it had pierced the skin and traveled all the way up her forearm. With a shock of horror, the man-beast realized what the thing was. In his haste to get away before being seen, he had forgotten his weapon of choice on the ground where they had dropped.

A half-choked, moaning sob broke from her then, the act of pulling the odd weapon out of her arm proving more painful than the entry of it. She let the leather-bound metal clash to the ground after being fully extracted, and gripped the injury with her left hand. She stared, horror-struck and confused, at the bloody sia.

The pounding on the door suddenly intensified, breaking her out of her little revere. Painfully slowly, she began dragging herself up off of her knees, attempting to get back to her feet without letting go of her blood-weeping forearm, which proved insanely difficult. After a minute of unsuccessful trying, she gave up, and just settled with crawling away, pulling herself closely to the short wall that barred the edge of the building, and curled into the smallest ball she could manage.

The beast watched her all the while from his perch in the shadows, feeling terribly sorry for her, and insatiably angry at whoever it was that was trying to get to her from the other side of the door. It took all of the strength he had in him to refrain from jumping out of the shadows and beating the life out of the monster that had hurt her. He could feel his patience growing thin, and his resolve beginning to chip away at the incessant pounding at the door. He knew it wouldn't be long before the hinges broke, and the monster is the other side came through.

What could he do? He thought. He couldn't exactly rush forward and beat the person back, he didn't want to frighten the girl any farther than she already was, and there was no telling what her attacker could do. But he also couldn't just leave her there; even if the person gave up before the hinges broke, she'd surely still freeze to death on that roof. 

However, the monster didn't give him much more time to contemplate, within a moment, the doors hinges finally snapped, and the creature that had caused the small girl so much harm was spilling from the entryway.

He was a beefy man, thick around the middle, but in a way that suggested that hard-worked muscles hid beneath the fat. Scraggly, brown-blond hair hung greesily from his head, and an unmaintained, graying beard curled around a snarling lip. Even from his place in the shadows, the mutant could smell the alcohol on his breath. The intoxicated mans knuckles were bloodied and split where he'd hit something, and the beasts own hands instinctively clenched into fists with the knowledge of what he'd been hitting.

The bloodied girl let out a frightened squeak as the monster stalked towards her, pushing herself towards a hiding spot that didn't exist, and within a few angry strides, that man was practically on top of her.

Before he had the time to contemplate what he was doing, the mutant was across the rooftop, and holding in a bone-crushing grip the fist that was poised to strike the girl. Obviously not expecting the contact, the man turned to see what what had ahold of him, and came face-to-face (well...face-to-plastron) with a creature that looked like something straight from the scene of a shitty horror film.

Letting out a very unmanly shriek, the man instinctively moved to punch the mutant, which, unsurprisingly, ended with his other fist being gripped in the same shattering hold, and him being completely incapacitated.

It was all the beast could do to hold himself back from throwing the man over the building. The monster was still a human, after all, and the beast knew he wouldn't survive a drop from this height. Though he immediately hated the abuser, he still couldn't bring himself to murder him

Tightening his hold until the man gave another inhuman shriek, and he heard bones pop, he began walking the man towards the edge of the building, until the pudgy man was left standing with nothing but his toes on the roof, and he held him there, staring deep into his eyes. He snarled at the abuser, resisting the urge to just shove him off of the building and be done with him, and squeezed even tighter.

"Do ya like that, huh?" The beast finally growled, getting close enough the man could feel his breath, "do you like hitting little girls, man? Does that get you off? Make ya feel tough, you disgusting pig?"

He was riling himself up more now, he knew it, and he knew that it wouldn't be much longer before he snapped and actually did drop him, so instead, the mutant turned on his heel and threw the man towards the stairwell he'd come from, growling and taking a threatening step forward when the man didn't immediately run. The scared man quickly jumped to his feet and darted down back into the building, disappearing from sight.

After a moment, the beast went over to lock the door, and carefully peered towards the girl. She was shivering intensely, still gripping her bleeding arm, though now she was slumped over on her side, cheek resting on the ground, and eyes clenched closed.

"Well, saves me an awkward conversation," the beast thought aloud, creeping towards the girl, he grabbed his weapons on the way (one still covered in the girls blood, he felt a ping of regret).

Wiping the blood off on his thigh, the red-clad beast bent down to his knees. Carefully, he rolled the girl to her back, and even though he moved as gently as he could, the girl still mewled out a pained whimper at being shifted. She was so, so small. Her shoulder was barely wide enough to fill the palm of his hand as he laid her back, and the shivering that racked her body was enough to make up his mind for him.

Leaning back so he was crouched on his heels, he carefully scooped her into his arms, holding her to his chest securely, but loosely enough that he wouldn't hurt her, and stood to his feet. Turning, he headed towards the edge of the building, and jumped, landing softly on a fire escape platform, and slid down the ladder, keeping his hold on her as steady as he could.

This is a terrible idea, he decided, though he continued to walk anyway. His brothers would surely be pissed with him for bringing a civilian to their lair, but it wasn't like he could've just left her there, she would have frozen to death before the sun rose, and he definitely wasn't about to let that-that-that monster take her back.

He growled in hatred as he thought of the pudgy man, and the girl shifted slightly, whining in her unconscious state, and subconsciously leaning away from the anger she could feel rolling off of him. Immediately, he stopped, pulled her more securely against him, and tried to calm himself. It was partially his fault for the state she was in, and he desperately wanted to make it better. He stood as still as he could manage, holding her small, broken body as carefully as he could, until she relaxed a bit. Leaning back into his relative warmth, and melting slowly into the safety of his embrace.

"If only you knew, sweetheart, you wouldn't be so calm," he whispered bitterly.

The beast struggled a second to get the manhole lid off without jostling the girl, and dropped down the dark entryway to land in a quiet splash. Replacing the lid, the man-beast and the injured girl began the long trek towards the beasts lair, him speaking softly to her all the way.

Though he wasn't quite sure why, the mutant felt an automatic softness for the girl. Maybe it was her abuse that drew him to her, or maybe it was just something in her makeup, but he found her presence entrancing nonetheless.

#raphael hamato #tmnt #raph tmnt #tmnt raph x reader #raph x abused reader #tmnt raph 2014 x reader #tmnt raph 2014 x abused reader #tmnt raph 2014 #Anger-Fueled Sympathy

[smileyoongle]

I love you too. (Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook One Shot)

Requested by @adsku

Summary: You don't want to love again, thanks to Kim Taehyung and your best friend's little secrets but Jungkook doesn't want to give you up. Not when you always deny the three words he keeps telling you.

Pairing: Jungkook×Reader, Taehyung×Reader

His heart beat rhythmically in his chest, your head resting on the expanse of his skin and your hands wrapped around his waist. His fingers drew circles on your back, a smile gracing your lips at how content you felt. 

"I think we should get a seven tiered cake on our wedding." Taehyung voiced, earning a chuckle from you as you looked up at him. His lips turned into a pout, eyebrows etched together in a frown. "I wasn't joking." 

You shook your head, picking yourself up and straddling him. Taehyung rested his head on the headboard of the bed, his eyes raking over your body which was covered only in undergarments as an aftermath of the sexual activities you had engaged in, just moments ago. He placed his hands on your hips, smiling at the promise ring that glinted on his finger. "You haven't proposed to me, Taehyung, it's only promise rings." You replied, your voice soft and breathy in the dark room. Taehyung rolled his eyes, getting up and pushing you onto your back before hovering over you. His rubbed his nose against yours, his forehead resting upon yours.

"It's a promise ring. Which means I promise to be with you forever. I've booked you for myself so someday, we're definitely getting married." He explained, holding your wrists in place on either side of your head. You bit your lips, your heart racing in your chest as you admired the man before you. Taehyung was simply beautiful. The charming personality was just a bonus. You couldn't bring yourself to believe that it had been three years since your relationship began, every day being something new with Taehyung by your side. All your friends always told you that he was a gem, especially Jane, your best friend since forever. You treasured your love, knowing that you'll never be so smitten with anyone else. 

"Okay then, my future husband. What else do you have in mind?" You asked sweetly, laughing when Taehyung's head fell to your shoulder, a soft groan escaping his lips at the nickname. "You make me absolutely insane. I love you so much." He mumbled, his lips leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck which had you fluttering your eyes shut. His lips trailed down your body, his hands letting go of your wrists and caressing your skin.

"I love you too."

____________________________________________

You glanced at yourself in the mirror, running your fingers across the smooth material of the light blue dress you were wearing. Your silver stilettos glimmered in the lights, your hair neatly styled at the back of your head. Your make up was subtle, enough to hide all the flaws that tainted your face. You sighed, concluding that you finally looked perfect to be attending a wedding. 

"And who gave you permission to look so gorgeous? Now I'll have to fight every man who looks your way." You rolled your eyes, a faint smile playing at your lips as you turned around to see your boyfriend standing by the door, clad in a dark grey suit. Your heart fluttered at the sight of him smiling fondly at you, a dimple digging into his cheek. "Says the man who has every patient of his swooning over him." You teased, grinning as Jungkook walked towards you while laughing. It was ironic, actually, seeing as you used to be his patient too. The difference was that Jungkook was the one who started wanting something more from you. 

Your sessions turned into late night calls and hangouts until one day Jungkook told you that he couldn't just be your therapist anymore. You were very scared of losing him that night, your lips pressing against his and telling him to stay. Because Jungkook was your panacea. He was your healer who kept you together. He picked up the broken pieces of your heart and put it back together, reminding you everyday that he was willing to walk beside you through the darkness. You still had your doubts, never once uttering the three words that he longed to hear from you.

Jungkook kissed your forehead, bringing his hand in the front to show you a long blue velvet box. You frowned, looking at him with questioning eyes as he nudged the box towards you. You reluctantly took it and opened it to find a shimmering pendant inside. There was a bird in the middle of the silver sterling, it's wings spread out at the sides. 

"It's a phoenix. I've been wanting to give you this for a long time now but never found the right opportunity." You smiled softly, running your finger across the pendant before looking up at your boyfriend. "It's beautiful." You stated, your affection for him growing upon the realisation of what he had gifted you. Jungkook had chosen to call you his little phoenix since the beginning of your relationship. Anytime you were feeling low or lost, he was there to bring you back home, telling you again and again that you were like a phoenix, building yourself again from the ashes of a past you never wanted to go through again. Jungkook took the pendant into his hands, nudging you to turn around to face the mirror. You placed the box on the vanity table, Jungkook's fingers grazing your skin as he clasped the pendant behind your neck. You looked at yourself in the mirror, Jungkook's chin coming to rest on your shoulder after he kissed your neck softly. Your cheeks grew warm, your eyes looking away from his to calm yourself down. "You're so perfect." He mumbled, admiring your reflection in front of him. You slightly shook your head, denying all his compliments.

"I'm anything but perfect and you know that."

"Believe me, you are my definition of perfect." Your heart swelled, wanting to combust with happiness but you didn't allow it. Your walls were only slightly down for Jungkook, he always had to work harder to get to you. He didn't deserve it and you knew that. But you didn't want to go through things that landed you in Jungkook's office, again. 

"I love you." There it was. That sentence that ruined lives of people. According to you, the world had twisted the beauty of that word. 

Love.

People said it everyday like it was just another word when in reality, it wasn't. Love either built you or pulled you down. There was no in between. And you wished Jungkook would stop saying those words to you, every single day. He never got a response, at least not the one he was looking for. There were many girls who'd be willing to give up their everything for him and here you were, being ungrateful for a love that seemed nothing but true.

His love felt the same.

"I know." You replied, watching as he smiled wider before pulling away. You wondered if Jungkook took drama classes in school. He never ever showed you how hurt he was on being the only one in love. That wasn't fully true. You did love him, you just didn't want to go all in. He bent his arm at the elbow, waiting for you to latch on to it. 

"Let's go. I don't want to hear my cousin nagging me for being late to her wedding."

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It hurt more than you thought, the distance between you and Taehyung growing with each passing day. You couldn't place your finger on why things were going this way but you knew you had to fix it. You had to fix it for the promise you both made. You had to fix it for the seven tiered cake he wanted at your wedding. 

You trudged up the stairs towards your apartment door, unlocking it with the keys in your hand. You held Taehyung's favourite takeout in one hand, accompanied by the movie he said he wanted to watch. You were met with darkness, the only light in the hallway coming from the guest bedroom at the far end. You frowned at the silence. Was he not home? 

If he wasn't home then your special request of being sent home early from work would just go to waste. You gently shut the door behind you, taking off your coat and dropping the bag of takeout on the kitchen counter. Photos of you and Taehyung aligned on the wall as you headed to the guest bedroom. Clearly, Taehyung wasn't anywhere else. 

He could be sleeping.

True. But Taehyung never slept until you were home. No matter how rocky your relationship, you both still exchanged your "I love you's" every night. It gave you a sense of relief, knowing that he was still here at the end of the day, waiting for you to crawl back in his arms. He made you strong, holding you up so that you would never fall. Your work had been keeping you away from him, your boss sending you across the globe every month for a week to attend company meetings. You appreciated that but you didn't like how threatened your love life felt. 

You placed your hand on the brown door, frowning at the heavy breathing sounds coming from beyond it. You bit your lip, pushing the door further until your body froze and your eyes widened.

Love was overrated, people said. You never believed them. Why would you believe them when you had such a beautiful love waiting for you at home? Maybe you shouldn't have been so blind. You should have known your relationship was beyond repair when Taehyung bought things from jewellery stores, only for them to never reach you. You had a joint account, perhaps he forgot about it in the spur of the new love he was brewing right in front of your eyes.

Somehow, tears didn't come. No matter how bad you wanted to scream or shout or cry, there were no tears to give you that satisfaction. Taehyung's body lay beneath that of a woman, who rode him while trying her best to muffle her moans. At first, you didn't recognize her but that tattoo on her hip had your heart breaking further. It was Jane. That best friend who was supposed to be your sister. That best friend who was supposed to be your bridesmaid.

Your fingers found their way to the doorknob, quietly pulling the door close. He wanted to break your heart? Fine. Let him have his fill for the night. You dragged yourself back to the front door, sitting down against a wall and staring at all the memories etched into the walls in between photo frames. Moans filled your ears, followed by a mumble of 'I love you'. You couldn't tell who said that but you could tell it wasn't fake. 

You were stupid to think that Taehyung wanted to fix this. He didn't. Instead, he went and found someone else. And that someone happened to be your best friend. So much for dreaming about a happy life.

You stood up when it seemed like they were done, your hand going up to bring down a photo that hung on the wall. You glared at the happy faces of you both, feeling envious of the relationship that seemed to be perfect once upon a time. What a lie!

You heard the turning of the doorknob, the light from the guest bedroom flooding the hallway as two figures stepped out. You didn't even look at them, your eyes too busy burning holes into the photograph but you knew they saw you, the sudden halting of footsteps telling you that you were right.

"Y/N…" 

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You stepped out of Jungkook's car, his hand immediately latching onto yours as he smiled at you and led you inside the venue. The place was beautifully decorated with orchids and lavenders, your mind feeling tempted to start making plans for your own wedding. 

No. Not again.

You gently shook your head, trying to focus on the problem before you. This was the first time you were going to meet Jungkook's family and your usual confidence was completely gone. Jungkook was very determined to prove to you that he wasn't ever gonna leave you. He was a man with firm beliefs and according to him, introducing you to his family was one step in proving his love to you. He didn't really have to prove anything to you, you already knew he wasn't lying. But you couldn't tell him. Opening up always seemed to be a problem in relationships. 

You held Jungkook's hand tightly, even going as far as to not pay attention to the board outside which stated the name of the bride and the groom. In the midst of your busy life, you didn't even ask Jungkook who was getting married. It was his family after all, must be someone you'd get along with later on. Jungkook noticed your nervousness, his hand letting go of yours and wrapping around your waist. He firmly pulled you closer to him, smiling at any familiar face that he came across.

"Is this something worth being nervous about?" He asked you, his inner therapist making an appearance. You sighed, replying with a no as you stepped inside the venue. Jungkook could tell you still weren't calm and he felt a bit guilty. Maybe it was too much to bring you to a family function before introducing you to them in a normal setting. You and Jungkook both knew that his family would definitely pop the question.

When are you two going to get married?

And in all honesty, none of you had the answer to that. Jungkook inhaled deeply, leading you to the side of the chapel, your eyes fixed on the altar that had been set in the far end. Jungkook's warm hand cupped your cheek, bringing your attention back to him. His eyes looked into yours with all the love in the world and your heart ached. It was the same look that you used to give him, only to have your heart shattered. 

"Y/N, I'll take you back home if you want. It doesn't matter to me whether you meet my family or not. I know I love you…" 

You immediately stood up on your tippy toes, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. Jungkook's heart fluttered, surprised that you were the first one to kiss him this time. It had never been you before. You pulled away, mustering up a shy smile as you looked at him. His eyes were still closed, making you chuckle. But he wasn't to be blamed. The kisses you both shared were always like this, sending either of you in a state of daze. It was pure and sweet.

"I don't know what makes me so lovable to you but I want to do this. I wanna do this so that you know that I care." You whispered, his eyes slowly opening to see you smiling at him. Jungkook wanted to tell you that he already knew you cared. He knew all about your heart break and your struggles with love. He knew you like the back of his hand. You cared. You always cared and Jungkook never wanted to put you in a position to say that out loud. 

"So all I needed to do was to arrange a wedding just so I could see my son? This is a cruel world." 

A feminine voice interrupted, making you both pull away and look at the source of it. An older woman stood before you, her eyes crinkling at the edges and her lips stretching into a grin that showed you her pearly whites. Her slightly gray hair had been tucked neatly into a bun, a pink dress adorning her body. You glanced at the man behind her, his grin just as wide as hers as he looked at Jungkook. No doubt these were his mom and dad. 

Jungkook chuckled, hugging the lady before you, kissing her cheek before moving to his father. You heard the murmurs of mom and dad from his mouth, praising yourself for having made the right conclusion. You smiled, your hands turning clammy as you clenched the side of your dress. You quietly stood by the side, watching the reunion and calming your nerves. You began looking at the other guests, low murmurs and laughs filling your ears. They all seemed to be settling down in their seats, indirectly letting you know that the ceremony was about to start and you both were a little late. The plan was for Jungkook to go see his cousin before the wedding but you could tell he wasn't gonna see her until she walked down the aisle.

"Y/N, come here, love." Jungkook's voice made you turn to him, your lips parting in surprise as his parents stared at you expectantly. You gave them a pressed smile and placed your hand in Jungkook's, letting him pull you towards him. 

"This is Y/N, my girlfriend but you already know that." There was a flash of recognition in his parents' eyes, his mother immediately pulling you into a hug and you let her. The way she embraced you was motherly and delicate, you found yourself relaxing in her arms as she rubbed your back.

"Kook has told us all about you. You're much more magnificent than he let on." She said, pulling away and looking at you from head to toe. 

Jungkook was lucky to have such amazing parents, they seemed to be interested in their son's life, unlike yours who barely talked to you once a year. It was safe to say that Jungkook was the only one you had in your life.

"I'm telling you now, Y/N is gonna be with me the entire-"

"I'm sorry but I'm not letting you steal my girlfriend from me. At least not until the ceremony ends. I need to protect her from the eyes of other men." Your eyes widened and you looked at Jungkook in amusement, wondering how he even said that out loud. He cheekily grinned at you, pulling you back to him and resting his chin on your shoulder. His parents laughed along, his father nodding at him encouragingly.

"I taught him well." He said, making you join in on the laughter. For the first time in a while, you felt like you weren't alone. Yes, Jungkook had been with you for two years now but sometimes you let your doubts get the best of you. It felt good to be protected once again and you knew Jungkook had it in him to a punch a man into oblivion for looking at you the wrong way. 

"It's starting, let's take our seats. I can't wait to see Jane in the dress we chose for her." Jungkook's mother stated, clasping her hands together. Despite the smile on her face, you found yourself growing tensed. Did you hear that right?

Did she say Jane?

You frowned, Jungkook's hand leading you towards the front row where the rest of his family sat. The hall was growing quiet, everyone's attention on the groom who was talking to the priest, his back facing you while you took a seat beside Jungkook. Your breathing slowly fell uneven, your body screaming at you to leave. Something was very wrong. 

You swallowed thickly, catching a glimpse of the ring clad fingers of the groom, your eyes doing a double take at one of them which you recognized all too well. Your hand found Jungkook's, intertwining your fingers with his out of anxiousness. He was your rock afterall. If you were to break right now, you could count on him to save you from the embarrassment. Soft melodies filled your ears, everyone's faces turning back to the double doors at the end of the room which had just opened. But you didn't turn. 

You didn't turn because there was someone else who had all your attention now. He stood in a black and white suit, smiling at his bride who wasn't a stranger to you. He looked the same, his brown hair covering his forehead as he glanced around the ceremony hall. Your heart stopped, your throat running dry and your head splitting apart. The familiar agony in your chest was rising back, reminding you of all the days Jungkook spent trying to make you feel okay again. 

As if things couldn't get worse, his eyes met yours, a flash of pain and confusion sparkling in them. His lips parted, his hands falling still beside him. The attention that was supposed to be on his bride was on you now. 

His first love. The one he'd never forget.

Your eyes burned, your throat aching as you held back all the tears that were threatening to show. You felt weaker with every second he looked at you, his own eyes watering on seeing you as confused as him.

"Y/N…"

_____________________________________________

Taehyung stared at you in shock, his voice mirroring every single emotion he felt. His deep voice that you used to be in love with, stirred hatred in your heart, your teeth gritting and your hand smashing the photo frame against the floor. You watched in satisfaction as the glass hurtled everywhere, leaving your happy faces all crumpled and destroyed. There was a gasp before Taehyung rushed towards you but you gave no mind to him. He didn't deserve to look at your memories after what he had done. 

You quickly picked up a piece of glass from the floor and held it towards him threateningly, tears finally filling your eyes on seeing his distraught expression. "Take another step and I swear I will do something none of you would like." 

As soon as you said those words, Taehyung stopped in his place, a pained expression tainting all his features. You realized that maybe they wouldn't mind seeing you hurt. They did decide to fuck each other behind your back afterall. 

"Or maybe you'd like to see me hurt. Then you won't have to live with the guilt of me finding out, right? Because I'll be gon-"

"Y/N! Don't you dare finish that sentence!" Taehyung interrupted, his tone firm and disapproving. Okay, you probably went a little too far but it wasn't all a lie. Your heart had already been ripped out by them. 

Your took down another photograph, throwing it to the ground with a frustrated scream. Tears began falling down your cheeks, your throat aching as you hopelessly tried to stop. You didn't want them to see how broken you were. No. You couldn't give them the satisfaction. 

One by one, you broke every single frame, your hand finally gripping onto the last one, raising it in the air to end your love story, once and for all. But Taehyung couldn't watch you rip away all his happy memories anymore. As much as you weren't gonna believe him, he needed you just like before. He took hold of the photo from your hand, snatching the shard of glass with the other before tossing it to the floor. You clenched your jaw, glaring at him with all the disgust and hatred in the world, ignoring the aching in your palm because it was nothing compared to how injured your heart was.

Taehyung saw the crimson at the edges of the shard you had held, his eyes widening as he frantically looked at your hand, preparing to take it into his own for further inspection. As soon as his fingers grazed your skin, you yanked your hand away, taking a step back and hissing in pain. Blood dripped down your arm, the split skin of your palm burning as you stared at the two people in front of you.

"You don't get to touch me anymore." You announced, your voice firm and confident. At least you were stable enough for now. Jane hung her head low, tears making their way down her cheek. She hadn't realised what she was doing until she saw you. Her best friend. Her soul sister. She swore she'd never be able to look at herself without remembering what she had done to you. 

"Y/N, just...please let me explain, this isn't how I wanted you to find out." A bitter laugh escaped your mouth, your appearance probably coming off as that of a mad woman. So Taehyung did want you to find out? He didn't regret any of this? 

You concluded that you weren't gonna let him explain. His actions had told you all you needed to know. He wasn't in love with you anymore. He didn't need you anymore.

"Did I mean anything at all?" You questioned, Taehyung's eyes falling to the floor in shame. He couldn't blame you. He knew he couldn't. This was because of him. You were in pain because of him. 

"You meant everything. You still do." Taehyung answered, making you sob harder as you fell to your knees, cradling you hand as it continued to bleed. The pain was so unbearable that you wished you could just die. Why go through all this agony for someone who fell out of love with you? 

"Y/N, I'm sorry." Your best friend's voice echoed beside your sobs, making you suck in a sharp breath as you looked up at them. Cheaters. Liars. 

You abruptly stopped crying, your lips quivering as you shifted to the side, resting against the wall and clearing the way to your front door.

"Get out. Your voices are making me insane so don't talk and just get the fuck out of my life." You seethed, your chest heaving with how erratic your breathing was. There was a beat of silence before someone finally moved, Jane's legs entering your line of sight before vanishing. You heard her sniffling, holding yourself back from snapping at her. Why was she crying now? She should have thought about this before.

As Taehyung walked past you, your mind clicked in realization. You called out to him, missing the hopeful glint in his eyes as he turned around. But all hope was dead when you took off the promise ring, throwing it towards him and inhaling deeply while he caught it. 

"Take your empty promise with you."

_____________________________________________

It was a small world, indeed. You didn't understand why people said that but now you knew. They weren't just referring to the many places and countries that you could visit. This was bigger than that. 

You didn't know how, but you got through the ceremony, shutting every single noise out so that you could drown in your thoughts. You couldn't bring yourself to listen to the 'I do' that they both exchanged, deeming it as too dangerous for your heart. So their love was real, afterall. And what a coincidence that Jane was Jungkook's cousin. 

You wanted to laugh at your luck, wondering if there was someone more broken than you. As you held the flute glass between your fingers, you fixed your gaze on Jungkook who was busy talking to a relative of his on the other side of the room. The after party was going pretty smoothly, your mind quietly praising you for having handled this situation so well. You felt someone stand beside you, your head turning to see Jungkook's mother looking at you with that loving smile on her face.

"I don't remember the last time he looked at someone like he looked at you today. You must be really special to him." She said, making you glance at Jungkook. Your heart skipped a beat, feeling thankful for being loved by someone like Jungkook. He really was a gift. Why he loved you so much was beyond your knowledge. And you didn't wanna ask. Because when someone answered that question, all their reasons seemed to end along with their curiosity of why they were in love.

"He is special to me too." You mumbled, Jungkook's eyes finally meeting yours. His mother squeezed your shoulder gently as you watched your boyfriend make his way to you. You couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or not, but Jungkook seemed to be looking much more gorgeous than he already was. 

You looked beside you, his mother quietly stepping away as she winked at you. You gave her a nervous smile, raising an eyebrow in slight confusion. What did she think was going to happen? Baby-making?

You were met with Jungkook's smile, his hands lovingly wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him. You placed your empty champagne glass on a tray being carried around by a waiter before focusing on your boyfriend.

"You okay?" He asked, concern lacing his eyes as he tucked your hair behind your ear. You had ditched your elegant hairstyle, letting your locks fall free which according to Jungkook's mother, made you look more like a goddess. 

You nodded, moving your hands around his neck. He nudged his head towards his mom who was busy talking to her husband. "I hope she didn't make you uncomfortable." 

You tsked, narrowing your eyes at him and leaning closer, making your nose brush against his. "Actually, she was telling me how she hadn't seen you admiring someone as much as-"

"Oh she must have missed the way I was looking at that woman in the red dress." You immediately gasped, punching his arm and trying to get out of his grip. He laughed, tipping his head back and holding you much more firmly. You pressed your lips together, maintaining your glare while trying to suppress the smile that threatened to take over your lips. You liked seeing him so happy and it made you even more happy that you were the reason behind it. There was the sudden urge to just lay out all of yourself for him but you couldn't, not when Taehyung was smiling at his bride the same way he used to smile at you.

Jungkook's laughter died down, his lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss. You closed your eyes, loving the way he made your heart melt within seconds. 

"No one in this world is half as enchanting as you." He muttered, pulling away slowly to look at your flustered expression. These reactions were the only thing that told Jungkook that he stood a chance. That he did come close to knocking at your heart's door. Whether you opened it or not, was unfortunately not in his hands. 

"Jungkook?" That familiar voice made you freeze, Jungkook's head turning to the side as he let go of you to hug his cousin. Your heart started pounding in your chest. You were uncomfortable and angry and all the wrong things that you weren't supposed to be. You closed your eyes, taking in deep breaths and telling yourself that you were strong enough to do this. 

The only reason you weren't expressing your anguish was because Jungkook didn't know. He didn't know that your best friend's name was Jane. He didn't know that your boyfriend's name was Taehyung. You had never mentioned their names during any of your sessions, concluding that the very syllables of their names made you furious. And they did. They still did.

You opened your eyes again, only to see Taehyung making his way towards where you stood. Things seemed to be getting worse. As much as you wanted to be strong, you knew you couldn't do this. Not when Taehyung's eyes were begging you to let him talk to you. With a sharp intake of breath, you turned to Jungkook, avoiding Jane's eyes as you tapped his arm.

"I'm gonna go out for a minute. I don't feel too good but don't worry, you know I don't do good with crowded places. I'll be back before you know it." Your strained smile made alarms blare in Jungkook's head. He reluctantly nodded, watching you until you disappeared outside. He sighed, glancing at his sister who had just been joined by her husband. That's when something clicked.

If you thought Jungkook hadn't noticed the way you were barely holding yourself together during the wedding ceremony, you were mistaken. Jungkook always noticed things about you. Whether it was a haircut or you trying to hide something from him. He had seen the way you looked at Taehyung. He had seen the way Taehyung had whispered your name as Jane walked down the aisle.

Something was up and Jungkook knew Taehyung had the answers to all his questions. He had met the man once before when you were out for work. Taehyung was a good one, Jungkook had pointed out to Jane during one of their text conversations. But now, he wasn't so sure.

"Is she okay?" Taehyung asked, gesturing towards the door from where you left. Jungkook raised an eyebrow, finding it difficult to hold himself back from blurting out the question. But this was you. And Jungkook was willing to go all out for you.

"Taehyung, I need you to tell me something. Have you met Y/N before?" 

Jane's breath hitched, her brain rushing to make up an excuse but when she felt Taehyung's hand on hers, she knew he wanted to let it all out. For years, it was only the two of them who knew about what they had done. Your mutual friends had assumed that you were just too stuck up to meet them anymore and Taehyung hadn't stopped them. Seeing you after so many years made him question himself. Was that really how much your love was worth? 

He deserved to be beaten up until he couldn't breathe and he knew Jungkook would gladly do that. He saw the love in the therapist's eyes, concluding that it seemed much deeper than what Taehyung gave you. Taehyung nudged his head towards one of the backrooms, swallowing thickly as he proceeded to prepare himself to recall that horrible night.

You stared at the ocean in front of you, the cold breeze fanning your face and making goosebumps rise on your skin. So far, you had been successful in calming yourself down, sighing in relief as the tears died down. Crying was a very vulnerable thing. You didn't want anyone to see you like that. Not even Jungkook.

Surprisingly, Jungkook had never seen you cry. Even your therapy sessions consisted of you holding up a strong front before him. No matter how many times he urged you to let it all out, you never did. Maybe it was the right choice. Maybe it wasn't. You weren't one to decide.

You felt a warm jacket drape over your shoulders, Jungkook's scent filling your senses. You glanced at him, noticing the way his eyes weren't as bright as before. They were...sad and guilty. You couldn't think of any reason for him to be feeling this way. Nonetheless, he gave you a sympathetic smile which broke your heart a little. 

You averted your gaze back to the sea, growing nervous at the uncomfortable silence that enveloped you both. "You missed the first dance." Jungkook said, his voice as gentle as a feather. You nodded, wincing at the realisation that you had been out here for too long.

"Sorry, I just didn't like it in there." You answered honestly, clasping your hands in front of you, your elbow resting at the white railing that had between decorated with a bunch of flowers at equal distances. "Something you didn't like in particular?" 

You shook your head, feeling his eyes at the side of your face. You could tell there was a reason behind all these questions, you were just praying that it wasn't because of what you were thinking. You were scared that if he pushed any further, you'd give in. You'd tell him everything and ruin it all. 

Jungkook let out a shaky breath, turning to you and taking hold of your arm before pulling you towards him. Your eyes widened, your heart racing as he cupped your cheeks. His eyes were laced with desperation and helplessness, his fingers caressing your cheeks as if you were made of glass.

"Baby, please let me in...please." he begged, breaking down all your walls at once. Your lips quivered, eyes watering as you threw yourself in his arms and clung to him, crying as if your life depended on it. Jungkook's heart was breaking with each sob of yours, his own eyes tearing up as he held you tightly, letting you cry as much as you wanted to. 

You had opened the door for him, letting him in just like he wanted. But Jungkook regretted it, unable to comprehend how bad you had been holding it all in. He held you against his chest, hands firm on your back, shielding you from the world. From Taehyung, who stood at a distance, watching you both with a busted lip. He deserved it. His own tears didn't stop, his hands clenching angrily at himself. You really didn't deserve any of it. Not after all the love you had showered on Taehyung. 

Jane stood inside the venue, softly crying at the scene unfolding in front of her. She still hated herself. She still remembered how you both had promised things to each other. Things as simple as being each other's bridesmaids or traveling across the globe together. She had ruined her own friendship, losing that one beautiful human who made her happy. 

But love was crazy. It overcame anything and everything. Taehyung loved jane, enough to let you walk away. He wanted to let you go before starting his relationship with Jane but he couldn't. Because your smile always made him think that he was still in love with you. To this day, he wasn't able to convince himself otherwise.

"Y/N…" You didn't stop crying, his voice didn't affect you anymore. That seemed like a good thing. You held onto jungkook's shirt tighter, feeling his hold growing more firm. You slowly turned your head, looking at Taehyung with teary eyes. It was the same sight as that day, Taehyung recalled. The only difference was that this time, you had someone to hold you up, unlike Taehyung, who had left your hand to go hold someone else's.

Taehyung took a step closer, making you frown in disapproval. He swallowed thickly, looking down at his shoes. "Will you ever forgive me? Us?" His voice was a bare whisper but you heard him. You didn't want to disappoint anyone but you knew Jungkook wouldn't like that. He had taught you to put yourself high up on a pedestal where only the people you liked could reach you.

"You don't have to forgive everything." 

He had said during your first therapy session. Till today, you thought about it. Would you forgive Taehyung and Jane for what they did? The answer was simple.

"No." You replied, sniffling with your cheek pressed against Jungkook's chest. "Is that okay?" You added, watching Taehyung smile slightly at your question. You didn't change much. You still wanted to please people but your decisions seemed to be firmer now. Taehyung nodded, glancing at Jungkook before turning around and leaving you both alone. You closed your eyes, feeling Jungkook's lips pressing against your head. You had things to say to him too but you didn't know how. After everything he was doing for you, he deserved this. He deserved your love.

"Jungkook, I know how much you love me. It's not that I don't feel the same but I'm afraid…"

"Never will I ever leave you like he did. I'm not him." You gazed up at Jungkook, your chin resting on his chest. There it was again. The bright fire in his eyes, passionate and loving, waiting to consume you. You held the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss him. This kiss was different than the rest. It was more meaningful. Because it didn't just contain his love but yours too. 

As you lay your head on his bare chest, listening to his heart beat and running circles on his stomach, you wondered if everything was really planned out. Taehyung wasn't meant to be yours. And you weren't meant to be his. If someone had told you that you'd be so in love with someone, two years ago, you would have probably lashed out at them. But now you knew. Looking for love was wrong. Waiting for love was wrong. Crying over love was wrong.

Because there's always gonna be a love stronger than the one before. You just had to be strong enough to be able to live through all the heartbreaks to reach there. 

Jungkook's fingers played with your hair, his smile not quite hiding itself as he whispered to you the words he said everyday.

"I love you."

You looked up at him, smiling at him unlike all other days. Because this night was different. You weren't broken anymore. You were in love. And that was the most beautiful feeling in the world, beautiful enough to heal all your broken parts. You admired your lover's face, feeling warm and fuzzy at how intensely he gazed at you.

"I love you too."

I wrote this in a day and it's 3 AM right now but I don't wanna sleep without posting it. I made myself so sad with this imagine, idk why. I hope this was okay! I'm gonna crash now. Goodnight!

-XX

#bts #bts taehyung #bts one shot #bts jungkook #bts imagines #bts angst #bts angst imagines #bts reactions #bts request #bts kim taehyung #bts jeon jungkook #taehyung×reader #jungkook×reader #bts Taehyung imagines #bts Jungkook imagines #tumblr updated and it sucks #smileyoongle #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook

[bisluthq]

We talk a lot about tay’s eras concerning PR and the fashion and the gay stuff lol but im curious about your musical faves. Like what’s your fave album? What’s your fave song from each album?

Also what other music besides Tay do you listen to? I’m gonna guess you liked Harry styles 2nd album but honestly I have no idea what else you might listen to lol. Since you’re a millennial I’m gonna say maybe you went through an emo phase and listened to like MCR and paramore but idk if you still do 😬 idk correct me if I’m wrong LOL

Not so much MCR but I loved P!ATD and Fall Out Boy and weirdly my fave band was this Canadian band called Hot Hot Heat? I also simultaneously loved Carrie Underwood but I tried to keep it a sekrit. I didn’t like any other country tbh I think I was just in love with her lol. Then I listened to a lot of indie, folk and like deep ass rap vibes through uni and beyond because obvi I did.

But I’ve always really liked pop? Like continuously. It’s the one genre that I never needed to like... try like. I love it. And especially female singer-songwriters but not too alternative tbh like in my “I’m cool” era I listened to a lot of Fiona Apple and Regina Spektor because they were the closest to what I really like... naturally enjoy.

The other person I love to listen to almost as much as Tay and Harry is Halsey? And I have a bunch of other pop albums I listen to I’m like pretty basic these days. I like Sam Smith. I also like... really really enjoy Cardi and Megan’s output and it’s not my usual thing but they are just SO COOL it’s insane and I can listen on repeat tbh.

My fave album changes because it’s usually the most recent one so currently it’s evermore - which I LOVE - but I know when the next one comes out I’ll reshuffle them because folklore isn’t #2 for me but I was #1 when it came out idk.

Fave songs: Teardrops/Should’ve Said No tie (Teardrops = relatable for hs me about girls, Should’ve Said No = iconic and extra funny because of SAMx6 self dragging), Fearless might be my least favorite album tbh but I guess The Way I Loved You/Fearless/The Best Day, I LOVE Speak Now and I think Enchanted is my fave song on it because it’s a very relatable feeling for me, Red is AMAZING and I think my faves are Treacherous, Come Back Be Here, Begin Again and The Lucky One, 1989 is overrated but I do like Style and WD and have a very soft spot for Blank Space, Rep is like... maybe my stable top favorite album I love everything about it but Delicate is my all time fave, Lover is also so good!! and I love... actually all of it I really like it 😭 I skip SYGB because it’s too sad but it’s still so good and that’s quite genuinely the only skip for me, folklore is mad woman and cardigan for me, and evermore is champagne problems.

But like y’all I love all the albums and all the songs.

I’m just a “Love Story is shitty” truther 😐

#nat talks Nat

[nierreplicantver122474487239]

I finished infinite jest

(spoilers, obviously)

1. this book really did not have to be 1000+ pages long

2. “the real ending is about 100 pages after the ending” is not a joke

3. this is far more nuanced and meaningful than DFW’s reputation would suggest but at the same time I can imagine a rick and morty fan’s favorite book being infinite jest

4. the most dated part of the book is not the 90′s hardware or the 90′s focus on corporate culture and “new media”, but rather the assumption that kids would always primarily interface with each other in real life and that their social worlds would be constrained to their physical location (ie. DFW anticipated video calls and IG filters but did not expect people to use them)

5. don is my favorite character

6. I choose to believe that all of the references to the Western Canon TM are meant to be ironic in a “Hal is a fucking soyboy/technical language is fun” way but it still relies on the reader being able to get all of the references and understand the words that the current POV character doesn’t (I didn’t get everything either)

6a. “doesn’t that book have every word in it” yeah 

7. a lot of the racism is bizarrely outdated, like I sort of understand why someone would write black characters with shitty AAVE and have rat-like old Chinese ladies but why so mad about indian doctors. did something happen in the east coast that I need to know about 

8. the constant presence of ugly/substance-abusing/non-passing trans women(?) suggests that DFW is not as clever as he thinks he is when it comes to bringing the hysteria in hysterical realism

9. nobody who talks about IJ has read IJ because nobody mentions how many times the n word appears

10. film and tennis invading every aspect of the incandenzas’ life is a pretty accurate depiction of what it’s like to be a Proud X Family 

11. when hal was described in the locker room scene I was really confused because I genuinely did not expect anyone in this book to get a description beyond “huge titties”, because you’re not really supposed to describe someone in Real Literature unless they’re unbelievably ugly or unbelievably hot

11a. the “ugly or hot” rule still applies to everyone else except don aka. the other protagonist. I spent most of the book imagining Avril as sara bellum from powerpuff girls and there was no evidence to the contrary until it came up that she has white hair 

12. I wish I did not know Freud

13. conspicuous absence of 9/11 and also self-awareness when writing about people being displaced by the great concavity

14. Very Clever, making the only formal history lesson/worldbuilding/timeline-unfuckening segment a janky puppet show adaptation of a highly dramatized movie about real events

15. the actual official counselor at ETA being useless and the functional counselor being a dude who lives in the gym and eats people’s sweat is accurate

16. eschaton? overrated. the people who treat eschaton like the best part or the core of the book are probably the same people who need to have a good cry at hmart and then actually try like pickled radish instead of whining about it

17. I have no theory for why hal loses his shit. I believe that his head just did that

18. I have the perfect overlap of knowledge about pharmaceuticals/medicine/German literature to know that most of the footnotes are wrong

19. everyone’s parents died/went out of the picture in such a chaotic and ridiculous way that it kind of sucks the impact out of the families whose story you’re meant to follow

20. the hyper-detailed and obviously fucked up narration becomes really weird when applied to subjects that are already intrinsically disconnected from reality (the presidency and media execs)

21. mexico just doesn’t exist which is insane given how much of the book is focused on drug use and also sci-fi-flavored racism

22. I’m trying to unlearn how to close read but I’m pretty sure don ended up telling hal about the wraith and they were digging up james’ grave to get the master of infinite jest. also explains why hal says wayne “would have” won and doesn’t feel the need to explain why he didn’t actually win (or play?)

23. finished 1000+ page books are easier to deal with than unfinished ones

24. not sure this is what a liebestod is actually

25. advanced YA novel

26. underrated source of humor: pemulis’ consistently awful outfits which nobody seems to give a shit about

27. kind of disappointed that the tennis is here mostly because it’s a weird sport that most americans know nothing about and not because anybody really waxes philosophical about the game itself (Schtitt does, sort of, and deLint talks about the nature of fame/professional performance but it’s explicitly applicable to orin’s football)

28. I deeply appreciate that all of marathe and steeply’s chapters take place in the span of one night 

[hunnybadgerv]

Tayen/Sharky - “Are we on a date right now?”

Deputy Quick liked not having to drive all the time. It was nice just to lean back in the passenger seat and let the wind whip her hair about her face as the wilderness streaked by in blackening shades of greens and browns. She guided her hand on an invisible current of air, while music blared around them.

Sharky’s hand laid on top of hers on the console, her fingers teasing against and between his digits as he steered them along the winding lazy roads.

She could feel the shift in momentum more than hear the change in the whine of the engine as the vehicle slowed. The squat gray building was not one she knew, but then she could honestly say that about 90% of Hope County. She’d only been in Montana for a few weeks before the trouble started.

The knobby tires crunched through the gravel that covered the parking lot of the building. She had not expected the gunfire that pinged off the metal body of the vehicle. Sharky gunned the engine with a grunted curse. It was only luck and sturdy construction that kept the Jeep from careening through the front wall of the building.

Tayen had all but melted into the footwell of the front passenger seat. She hunkered there for a moment, staring at Sharky who contorted in his own seat.

“Where?” she asked. He had to have read her lips, because she couldn’t even hear herself over the music.

He shook his head at her and she took the chance to smack her hand on the radio dial to cut that sound off. Her ears felt numb though, like she wouldn’t be able to hear him yell even at this distance.

She pulled her pistol and held it out the window before firing off a few rounds. It earned a retort. Glass from the windshield trickled down around them. And she hooked her thumb in that direction.

Sharky flipped the console open with a grin she’d learned to be concerned about. “Get ready to book it,” he told her.

Like he was picking fruit, he grabbed one grenade, pulled the pin and tossed it vaguely toward the front of the vehicle. Yells from beyond the vehicle rose. Sharky had another in his hand before the first went off. He tossed three of them out of the vehicle before opening the door and rolling onto his feet.

He held out a hand to her and all but pulled her from her side of the vehicle. Then hand pressed to her back, between her shoulder blades, as he rushed her to the rear of the vehicle.

Ducking, she darted the length of the building and peeked around the side, while Sharky went inside. She didn’t know which of them would have the more eventful experience, but they’d have to clear out the threat either way. She didn’t think about much beyond that most immediate goal of their survival as she fired on a man who leveled a rifle in her direction when he sprang out from the rear of the building. She pressed her back against the wall, when a spray of bullets threw a line of dust through the dirt.

“Damnit!” Tayen swore ducking lower behind the ice machine. It looked sturdier than it turned out to be.

A shotgun blast rang out and followed by a scream. Peeking around the corner of her cover, she watched a bearded man slapping at fire engulfing his vest. He collapsed in a field of flowers; the flames dying out on their own.

“Hey, Dep, you all right?” Sharky called as he reloaded shells.

“Yeah,” she said tiredly.

“They weren’t part of the plan.” He shot her an easy grin when she got to her feet and holstered her pistol.

“Plan, huh?”

“Well, you know.” Sharky held a hand out in her direction. It wasn’t until just that moment that the implications crashed into her head like a derailing train. That sappy grin. Plans.

“Sharky?” she asked her brow pulling low over her dark eyes. “Are we—,” she gestured between them, thinking that maybe she was going insane. She set her hand in his. “Are we on a date right now?”

A nervous hint of laughter widened that grin on his face and he pulled her along with him. “Thought it might be worth a shot.”

“Was the fire fight part of it?”

Sharky shook his head as they entered the building. In the corner of the room, under the now broken window, a rickety table leaned off kilter with a beer mug full of wildflowers sitting in the center of it. “Nah. Though it kind of sets a mood all its own, huh?” he said with a laugh.

She couldn’t hold back her own laughter either. “Yeah. Little bit.” She eased her arm around his waist.

“Think they murdered the jukebox, though.”

“We still have the radio,” she suggested, smiling up at him.

“Wonder if we can talk Wheatey into playing something sappy and romantic.”

Tayen wrinkled her nose, then shook her head. “Probably not.”

“Dancing’s overrated anyhow,” he declared, touching her cheek and kissing her softly.

#Far Cry 5 #Far Cry 5 Fanfiction #Tayen Quick #Sharky Boshaw #Badger Scribbles #First Drafting Foolishness #chyrstis