#if you prefer/process watching media better

[fullscoreshenanigans]

me when people ask me about TPN S2

#down to the turning into smoke and disappearing into the night and everything #my more specific answer is “you can watch the first three eps and then switch to the manga fandub and then pick up Vol12” #if you prefer/process watching media better #The Promised Neverland #Yakusoku no Neverland #TPN #YnN #TPN S2 #Promised Forest Arc #Cuvitidala Arc #King of Paradise Arc #FSS Shenanigans #watched CVNS1 this weekend and this is tied for the best reaction gif of the season #not reinventing the wheel or anything but OOF did it tick off a number of aesthetics #(ep4 catacomb fight with diegetic opera music my beloved <3) #and i vibed with all the mains; cautiously optimistic about S2 ✌️

[daisynik7]

I could even learn how to love like you

There’s a certain type of peace you find in the mundanity of the typical morning commute. The soothing whirring of the railway, the chill of metal against your fingers wrapped around the handholds, even the odd comfort of being surrounded by strangers who are equally as half asleep as you are, willing to shuffle the slightest bit to make room for new passengers. Sure, it’s a nuisance for the most part, but it’s your tiny pocket of harmony before the usually stressful workday. A routine you’ve grown accustomed to, something you can rely on to stay the same in this ever-changing society. 

Change is never a bad thing, though. And sometimes, it takes a stranger on the train to show you that.

He immediately captures your attention the first time you see him. Tan business suit, straight posture, hair neatly parted, stoic expression etched on his face. The typical salary man heading to his office job in the city. While his stature is most-impressive, it’s his tie that piques your interest, a spotted pattern akin to leopard print. A splash of pizzazz on an otherwise ordinary outfit. 

He maneuvers his way to you, wrapping his fist around the same pole you’re holding, his grip a safe distance above yours. He glances at you through his spectacles, giving you a short nod to acknowledge you. You return this with a small smile, and when you notice he doesn’t have any headphones in, you say, “I like your tie.” You normally wouldn’t speak to anyone here, most people too immersed in their preferred choice of media, like music or the news. Something tells you that straying from your usual habits might be good for you today.

The second of silence where he’s processing what you said scares you; maybe you’ve become a bother for him in this already troublesome commute. Then, he clears his throat, his gaze flickering at you for the briefest moment before it focuses on the floor. “Thank you.”

The conversation ends there. In fact, that’s your entire interaction throughout the remainder of the journey. Your station arrives before his and you leave without another word. It’s neither awkward nor extraordinary. Still, the moment doesn’t stop replaying in your memory the rest of the day. You wonder if you’ll get a chance to see him on the way home, knowing the chances are slim. Schedules vary, there are many different sections of the train. The stars would have to align just right for you to be reunited with this stranger. Despite the improbability of it all, you allow yourself to be hopeful. The little taste of excitement this morning has you craving more. 

~~~

Two days pass until Nanami meets you again. Maybe he does it subconsciously, maybe it’s intentional, but he finds himself gravitating towards you. When he places his hand above yours on the pole, in similar fashion to the last time, he gives his usual nod, unsure if you recognize him.

You beam at him. “Good morning!”

He doesn’t say anything else; he’d only be pestering you with trivial conversation. Though he can’t help watching from his peripheral as you scroll through pictures of delicious food on your phone. He notices you screenshot the ones that include recipes in the description, causing him to grin to himself at how he does the same. The urge to comment is in the back of his throat, the tip of his tongue. Getting it out proves to be difficult, and he knows why. Nanami made a vow to himself ever since he returned to being a Jujutsu Sorcerer: don’t fall in love. He’s completely aware of how dangerous his job is, how his life is at risk every single mission he’s sent on. It’s what he signed up for, the life he’s currently committed to. There’s no room for attachment, for love. It's easier for him to avoid it altogether, even if it means swallowing down a simple hello on the train. It’s better this way. And quite frankly, he isn’t sure if he’s even capable of loving the way others do. His heart has become so callous throughout the years that there’s no chance at it ever softening, he’s sure of it. Perhaps the flutter in his chest at the smile you flash him is a coincidence, nothing more. 

This theory is soon debunked. 

Nanami is especially tired after today’s mission. Heading home, he manages to secure a row of empty seats and plops himself down, resting his head back, sighing. He closes his eyes, listening to the usual hustle and bustle of rush hour, resisting every temptation to fall asleep. Missing his stop would put a damper on his already foul mood. 

Eventually, the automated voice announces your stop. For whatever reason, he made it a point to remember it when you hopped off this morning, just two away from his. When he feels someone sit beside him, he peeks with one eye open, curious. 

“Hi.” You smile softly at him, eyes crinkling with genuine kindness. “It’s you.”

While Nanami is guarded and closed off from people outside his intimate circle, he’s never rude. He has no other choice but to respond to you, ignoring the obvious thump in his chest at your endearing greeting. “Hello.” He tries his best to convince himself that this unfamiliar flutter surrounding him is some sort of medical condition that needs proper diagnosis and not affection towards a beautiful stranger on the train. Stiffening in his seat, he pretends not to be intrigued by the food magazine you start flipping through, secretly studying the way you fold the corners of all the recipes you want to save for later. 

Halfway into the ride, he actually does fall asleep, only rousing awake when he feels a gentle tap on his shoulder. Blinking the bleariness from his eyes, he catches you staring at him guiltily. “Sorry,” you apologize. “I think your stop is coming next and I didn’t want you to miss it.”

He sits up straight, readjusting his tie, clearing his throat before he replies, “Thank you.” Sure enough, the automated voice from the speaker announces that they’ll be approaching his stop next. Slightly disoriented from his nap, he stands up, grasping the nearest handhold tight. His mind is racing, body itching to say something more, say anything more. Before he can, the train comes to a halt. The doors open and without another glance, he’s gone. 

Nanami spends the entire fifteen minutes of his walk home attempting to quell the stir of emotions inside him, from guilt to giddiness, all over the simple fact that you’ve memorized his stop. That you’re paying attention to him just as he is with you. 

~~~

This time, he’s the first to greet you, offering a polite nod before he grabs onto the same pole that you’re occupying. “Good morning.”

You’ve been boarding this particular section ever since you started seeing him, hoping he’d do the same. “Hello, stranger,” you respond with a grin, unable to contain your happiness.

He holds his other hand out to you. “Nanami. Nanami Kento.”

You state your name in similar fashion, shaking his hand. His skin is rough against yours, though his grip is gentle. You let go of him, dropping your arm to your side, fingers tingling. “I guess we’re not strangers anymore.”

“I guess not,” he says with a small smile. And it’s enough to send you into a tizzy. 

Conversation is easy with him. He mentions the magazine you were reading the other day, expressing his mutual interest in food. From there, the two of you talk about your favorite restaurants and eateries around the area, giving your best recommendations. Because of all the ambient noise, you lean in close to one another to hear each other properly. The gap between your hands on the pole is shorter by the time your stop approaches. You’re prepared to bid him a reluctant farewell, so it surprises you when he follows you off. “Is this your stop too?” you ask him, though you already know it isn’t. 

He shakes his head, fixing his tie idly. “My office is fifteen minutes from here. I want to get a quick walk in before I start work.”

“Are you sure this isn’t an excuse to spend more time with me?” you tease him, smirking.

He gazes into your eyes. “Maybe it’s that too.”

This is the start of a new and exciting routine for you, one that involves Nanami. You’ll spend the morning together, talking to each other in the middle of the crowded train. Then, he’ll walk you to your office building, where he leaves you with a cordial bow. You’re reunited during rush hour, sitting next to each other sharing either the newspaper he brings along with him or the new issue of a magazine you’re subscribed to. You’ll even rip out recipes for him to keep, which he tucks safely in his pocket. When he’s too tired from the workday, he’ll close his eyes, his head falling just shy of your shoulder. It all seems silly and insignificant, but to you, it’s special. 

Your relationship never goes beyond this. The two of you don’t talk about work, you never ask questions about the new injuries on his hands or the minor scrapes on his face. The idea of being anything other than acquaintances who commute together terrifies you, and you have a strong sense that it terrifies him as well. While it would be nice to be in love, you’re not confident if you can give that to him. 

It's only after Nanami stops coming when you realize that maybe you can love him. 

On Thursday, the morning after Halloween, the commute takes longer than usual due to a mysterious incident in Shibuya that the media hasn’t disclosed fully. You listen carefully to the gossip surrounding the train. According to the elder folks, it has something to do about “the hooligans” partying too hard on Halloween. The younger generation of passengers chalk it up to some conspiracy about magical entities attacking civilians to lure other magical entities. You’re not sure what to believe, and whatever is the truth doesn’t matter once you realize Nanami hasn’t boarded at his usual stop. The delays don’t help your anxiety as you spend the remainder of the ride wondering where he could be, why he hasn’t shown up, if he’s okay. 

You follow the same routine as best as you can, frequenting the same section as you usually do, holding onto the same pole, which is lonely now without his presence. On the way home, you place your bag in the seat beside you, saving it for him if there’s ever the slim chance he does show up. You continue to tear recipes from the magazines you would normally read with him, placing them inside a small envelope marked with his name, ready to present to him if you ever do see him again. To show him that you never stop thinking about him even in his absence. 

Nothing is ever revealed about what really happened in Shibuya. The general consensus is that whatever danger emerged on that Halloween night is no longer a threat and that the citizens of Tokyo are once again safe. And based on the timing of Nanami’s sudden disappearance, you believe that he’s part of the reason for that. It’s the only solace you find in this otherwise heartbreaking situation. Still, you hold out hope. For what? You’re not sure until two months later when Nanami returns to your life. 

~~~

It takes one month for Nanami to be discharged from the hospital. He was admitted two days following Halloween, after Ieiri performed all she could with her abilities to aid him with his injuries. But he’s alive, they all are. The Jujutsu sorcerers succeeded at defeating Kenjaku and all his minions, thwarting whatever horrible fate they had in store for Tokyo, potentially the entire world. They won. 

However, their triumph came with a cost. The Shibuya Incident left him permanently scarred on the left side and one eye lost forever. Rehabilitation has been grueling the past few weeks, struggling to come to terms with this battered body. He’s received unyielding support from his colleagues who he shares this trauma with. Despite this, there’s something missing, someone missing in his life. He thinks about you much more than he ought to, wondering if you’ve noticed his absence, if it’s affected you at all. Ever the pessimist, Nanami has convinced himself that you have forgotten about him, even after all the tiny, special moments you’ve shared together. It’s better this way, he knows that. After all, he doesn’t have the slightest clue what love is or how to love somebody. 

Still, he’d like to see you again, just to know that you’re doing alright. 

Another month passes before he musters the courage to be out in public again. Because of the winter season, he can hide as much of himself without rousing any suspicion. A large coat, mittens on his hands, a scarf around his neck, a mask to cover the burn scars. He dons his usual spectacles, hoping to conceal the eyepatch draped across his hollow socket. Ever since the incident, he’s felt like a monster, unable to reveal himself to strangers oblivious to the true events of that night. 

He finally boards the train, stepping foot in the usual section as he would going home, searching for a familiar face. There you are, as beautiful as ever, sitting in the same seat, your bag occupying the one beside you. You look up, your eyes meeting his, holding onto his gaze a split second longer than expected before you focus back on the magazine laid out on your lap.

It takes everything in him to deny the swell in his chest, the tiniest sliver of hope fluttering in his belly at the thought of you recognizing him. Before he loses his composure, he takes his place on the empty row across from you, enough distance to observe you inconspicuously. That’s all he intends to do, nothing more. 

As much as his world has been shaken, he’s comforted by you flipping through your magazine as usual, your life continuing normally as it should. However, he can’t help feeling a deep sadness, knowing he’s not a part of it anymore. 

Once again, you prove his assumptions wrong.

His eye widens, intrigued by you grinning at a particular page, carefully tearing it from the binding, something you used to do this for him not too long ago. He watches with bated breath as you retrieve from your bag a marked envelope already teeming with what he assumes are other recipes from previous issues. You add the new one with a delighted expression, making sure to close the flap for a temporary seal. And clear as day on the front of the envelope, even with his obscured vision, is his name written on the front. 

He sits up straight at this, his full attention on this seemingly insignificant discovery. This captures your attention, the inkling you had earlier validated. It’s him. The stature, the posture, those distinct steampunk glasses. You didn’t want to be wrong, so you didn’t say anything, trying to stifle your quickening heartbeat. But you’ve been waiting two months for this reunion, yearned for it more than anything. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you stand up, traversing towards him until you’re an arms-length away, gripping a pole tightly to steady yourself. “Nanami?”

Panic sinks in as he decides to reveal himself to you, anticipating the shock and terror in your face when you see what he looks like now. He removes the mask slowly, avoiding eye contact. “Yes, it’s me.”

Your reaction surprises him. With that same warm smile he’s missed so much, you sit down beside him, unfazed by the scars. “I’m so happy to see you.”

Love is standing close on a crowded train to keep each other company. Love is getting off at the wrong stop to spend more time together. Love is magazine clippings in an envelope with his name on it. Love is seeing all the broken pieces of him and still finding him completely beautiful. 

Nanami is certain now that he could learn how to love like you. 

Author's Note: This is the final installment of the past lives vignettes series. It’s a bit cheesy, but I really wanted to explore the aspect of “missed connections” and I thought strangers on the train would be perfect to do that. Title inspired by the song “Love Like You” by Rebecca Sugar. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are never expected, always appreciated. Thanks for reading. Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

#nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami fluff #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff

[banggyu0308]

genre: internet strangers to lovers, idol au, smut

warnings: nsfw under the cut, not very coherent, slutty yeonjun, dom!yeonjun, sexting, choking kink, pet names (baby), praise, drinking (they don't get THAT drunk, alright guys?), one night stand-ish, degradation, unprotected sex, breeding kink, handholding, cursing, dacryphilia, yeonjun lurks on social media TT, reader is bold ASF, not proofread

wc: 2.5k+

an: tysm for the username help @itgirlgyu TT + this is just for the delulus + @beomsl MEL YOU REMEMBER WHEN WE TALKED ABT PART OF THIS???? + i might title this later but who knows!!

taglist: @full-sunnies , @agustdiv1ne

yeonjun who likes to wear his tank tops to show off, loves heading onto moa twitter and tumblr after lives just to see the fandom having a meltdown... especially hard stan social media, watching all the comments and photos of himself show up. he likes being in control like this, having the power to make everyone else go crazy just by wearing something else that day.

he scrolls and scrolls and one specific post pops up, it's community labeled and when he clicks 'keep reading', he can see why; pretty tits on display from the original poster, comments in the tags all about how she's all his, and he's not very surprised to feel himself growing hard in his pants. yeonjun eyes the username, ready to click the blue-fonted 'follow' button, but it's already gone, and his eyes widen to see that it's an account he's been following and interacting with for a while. that fact only makes it better, and he's clicking to his chat with you before he can even think it through what he's about to do.

yawnchoi you look really pretty in that new post...

yn what can i say? yeonjun brings out a special part of me 😭

yawnchoi im very sure he feels the exact same

yn in my dreams 😭 don't fuel my deluluness

yawnchoi i'm being very serious right now

yn mhm mhm sureeee and how would YOU know? 😑

yawnchoi ajksdbwsjdhbw maybe this wasn't a good idea

yn WHAT wasn't a good idea, hm? 🤨

yawnchoi baby all i'm trying to do is figure out how to word that i'm yeonjun 😭

yn i do not believe you for one moment

yawnchoi i'll send a pic that i would never, ever post and you can even reverse image search it or whatever or i could send a video, im not messing around baby

yn go ahead then ;-;

yawnchoi [sent a photo]

yn alright so yeonjun would definitely never post a photo of him in his boxers in bed so imma need that video 🙏

yawnchoi [sent a video]

yn oh. oh holy shit choi yeonjun has seen my tits- NOT ONLY HAS HE SEEN MY TITS HE LIKES THEM- one sec imma need to process haha im totally not hyperventilating haha

yn alright im back hi haha

yawnchoi helloooo 👋

yn wow. alright. so. uh. how do i ask this- you wanna see more tit pics?

yawnchoi THAT WAS SO BOLD HELP ME- but yes pleaseeee

yn [sent a photo]

yawnchoi oh baby- holy shit you're so pretty 🥺

yn thanks jjunie kwsnbdwjkd im still like- going crazy rn yawnchoi thats cute baby :((

yn wjhbswhjdhj so- since you've seen my tits i wanna see you again :(( preferably your dick but haha

yawnchoi yeah? pretty baby wants to see my dick?

yn kjwbshwjdbhe yes please?

yawnchoi asking so nicely... alright baby~ [sent a photo]

yn oh 😳 oh fuck alright sjbdsewjh wanna touch :((

yawnchoi me or yourself, baby?

yn well, both, but only one can happen, right? so me-

yawnchoi go ahead, can i see? yn alright 😳 [sent a video]

yawnchoi baby's so pretty :(( wanna see you cum for me <3

yn [sent a video] would be better if you were here :( want you to touch me so bad wjbwjhdbe

yawnchoi can fly you into korea if you want...

yn YOU'RE KISSING *KIDDING

yawnchoi i'm notttttttt dekjbdekj pretty cunt's got me all horny :((

yn i don't even care if it's a one night stand choi fucking yeonjun's gonna fly me out to korea to fuck me heck yeah

---------------------------------

and he does. books a flight last minute for the next day, from your country to seoul, puts on a pair of sunglasses and his least conspicuous outfit, and drives to the airport. he isn't THAT nervous- it's not like he thinks you're gonna murder him.

and when you walk out of the airport building with nothing but a backpack with you, looking around and waving slightly when you see him, his heart quickens just a little. (and NOT just because he's seen you naked).

you decide to sit in the back of his car for no reason other than you want to, and maybe a little bit because you can't exactly handle looking at him straight on quite yet.

to your surprise, there's no awkward small talk, just him getting straight to the point and saying all the members are out of the dorm currently, but, ever the gentleman, he says since you flew a long way, you can sleep a little bit first and he won't bother you.

your whole body is on alert and you find yourself thinking that there's no way you'd be able to sleep now. it's one thing to sext someone knowing they're an idol- another to actually be in the car with them, on your way to where they live, and knowing you're going to actually fuck them.

yeonjun politely takes your bag when you get out of the car, and when his fingers wrap around the strap, his hand brushes yours slightly. you internally feel like you might faint- you hadn't actually prepared yourself for this, and now he was touching you and he feels real and you knew he was real but now it just feels extra.

holding your bag, he opens the door to the dorm, leading you in before following, taking you into his room and placing your bag down on the floor next to his bed. every single action that takes him closer to you makes your face grow hot, the bed dipping slightly under your weight when you sit down. the sheets are soft, but your mind barely registers it, focusing instead on the fact that you are in yeonjun's bed.

he opens his mouth to say something, and you panic, cutting him off quickly with a wry grin and a statement. "i might need some alcohol in my system before we do anything else."

yeonjun raises his eyebrows in the slightest, a little surprised, but he also gets it. he's pretty sure both his body and his mind want you way too much right now, but he's so nervous he might not do anything. his hands are twisted in his lap and he quickly realizes and sits on them instead before standing.

he leads you to the kitchen, getting himself a can of beer and letting you pour yourself a couple shots of vodka. you know your limits- it's just enough for you to get a little tipsy and stop overthinking everything.

knocking one back, you enjoy the burn in your throat before taking the second. the slight buzz under your skin makes you smile slightly, leaning against the counter while he takes long sips of his own drink. it's obvious he wants this to pick up, so you busy yourself messing with his shirt just a little while he drinks. you slip your fingers under his sleeve, mindlessly rubbing your fingertips back and forth over his skin. you can tell he remembered your comments the previous day about his arms, basing his outfit around that.

he has another tank top on today, arms flexing when he brings the can to his lips to take another sip, and you move your hands a little farther down to rest on his chest. this time, when he lowers the can, his lips are a little wet from the drink and you can't help but press a messy kiss to them, licking the liquid off. yeonjun lets out a slight hiss when your tongues meet, left hand reaching behind him to place the can on the counter.

the alcohol must really be working already because you're both stumbling to his room, messily tugging each other's clothes off, and yeonjun leaves a line of wet hickeys up your neck. each and every touch of his skin on yours makes you feel fire burn a trail across your body, but it's in a way that makes you almost absolutely sure that it's not just because he's one of your celebrity crushes, or because you're a little drunk.

yeonjun's movements are so rushed that in seconds he's on top of you, his own shirt off, pants quick to follow once you tug at them. your hands find way to his newly-lightened hair when his lips and tongue meet yours again, a different kind of intoxication weaving itself up and over each of your limbs, the kind of intoxication that makes you want to live and breathe this man.

"want you," he whispers, cheeks pink from the alcohol, his eyes slightly glazed when he looks into yours, and the way he says it makes your cheeks grow hot again.

"go ahead then, 'm all yours," you exhale in response, trying to ignore the way your heart twinges at your own words. this is just a one time thing, you have to remind yourself.

but yeonjun's eyes light up and he presses another kiss to your lower lip, one hand moving between your legs to part them. his eyes lower to your cunt, and you can feel the way your underwear are sticking to your pussy. you'd chosen to wear white underwear today and you're pretty sure they're see-through by now, drenched completely from all the feelings yeonjun's touch is sending through you.

"all mine?" yeonjun mumbles, eyes wide. and when you nod, he smirks slightly. "love your cunt so much, i might just take you right now." your own eyes widen and yeonjun can feel your breath hitch. "but you'd like that, wouldn't you? pretty slut would love her jjunie taking her raw, would love to have me cum inside..."

you suck in a breath through your teeth at his words, nodding quickly, spread out on the bed beneath him. your mouth tastes like alcohol and yeonjun, and your brain tries to forget how he so flippantly called himself your jjunie.

"jjun, just, just fuck me, please?" you whimper out when he rubs a fingertip over your clothed cunt.

"baby asked so nicely, might as well give her what she wants," he coos, tugging off his boxers only once he slides your underwear down your legs. "promise you'll let me taste you next time?"

you nod, too distracted by the fact that he's already planning a 'next time' in his head to realize that he wants to eat you out, but by the time you understand, he has the tip of his cock pressed to your entrance, other hand holding yours as he slowly pushes in. the gesture feels sweet, romantic even, and you let your eyes fall shut when he pauses his movements.

yeonjun's body is pressed flush to yours in a way that allows him to brush his fingers over your neck, skin smooth against you. his hand wraps loosely around your neck and his breath is hot on your cheek when he whispers, "is this okay?"

you nod once more, only because the combination of the alcohol and his body on you is making your brain so fuzzy you can't think clear enough to speak. yeonjun hums lightly and experiments with his grip, making you gasp a little when he also hits your g-spot. he lets out a hiss when your already-tight walls tighten further around him.

he'd had a feeling that you'd feel like heaven around him, just because of the fact you had stated you were only able to fit two fingers inside yourself, but he had obviously underestimated all the sensations that were going to overwhelm him like they are now. every movement of his hips towards yours makes him fight to control the tremble of his body. your hand is linked with the one he doesn't have around your neck and every time he buries himself completely inside you, your hand tightens just a little around his.

he's losing himself just a little, hand still laced with yours, pace quickening until jolty, broken, high pitched moans are the only sound leaving you. yeonjun can't help but smirk at that, hoisting one leg over his shoulder. "fucking pussy is so perfect, almost like it's made for me, taking me so well... might just keep you here, my personal little cumslut, could bring you on tour with us, fuck you every night in the hotel room, how'd you like that, hm?"

his rhythm is so brutal you're choking on your words by now, broken sobs slipping through your parted lips, tears filling your waterline and then slipping down your cheeks, mixing with the slight mascara you'd put on this morning and making your face a mess. yeonjun likes it too, the way he's so easily able to get you like this, just a few words from his lips and you're crying.

he can't help but tell you this with a mocking pout on his lips that turns into yet another smirk, chuckling when all you can do is whimper incoherently. yeonjun kisses you gentle enough to make up for his harsh words though, he's only trying to make you feel good, and he knows you like it when he talks down to you.

one hand still around your neck, the other moves from your hand to your waist, and he's only fucking into you harder when you whine out that you're close. his lips catch yours again when you gasp out his name, gummy walls fluttering around his dick as your whole body shakes from the force of your orgasm, yeonjun's fingertip rubbing at your clit making you convulse under him.

yeonjun bites back a little moan and lowers his lips to your ear again. "can i cum in you, baby? let me make you mine?"

you can't tell if he's just saying it in the heat of the moment, but you nod, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you.

he bites his lip slightly, only losing control completely when you lick up the side of his neck and bite a splotchy hickey onto his neck. his warm cum fills you as he mumbles out a string of curses mixed with your name against your neck.

yeonjun practically collapses on you once he pulls out but lets himself take a second to marvel at how pretty you look right now, mascara leaking down your cheeks and neck, his cum and yours leaking from your swollen, abused cunt.

you let him wrap his arms around your form, cheek against his chest, both your bodies hot and sweaty, his bangs plastered to his forehead. there's a question on the tip of your tongue but he answers it for you, mumbling in your ear, "will you stay? for longer than just today?" yeonjun pauses slightly, then continues. "i'm not sure if i want you to be just one time. i know that this part of our relationship is new but we've been talking for so long and yeah, i don't want you to go back home and for this never to happen again."

you purse your lips, alcohol fogging up your brain and making you a little too sleepy to respond. "we'll talk tomorrow, hm? it's late and i had a long flight and i'm tired, jjunie..."

he nods slightly, running a hand through his hair, and presses a kiss to your forehead. "goodnight, yn."

"night night, yeonjun," you exhale.

you're almost half asleep when you hear him whisper, "the others'll be home soon, if they see us like this, i'm blaming you..."

#ada speaks :) #adas hard hours #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #yeonjun smut #yeonjun hard thoughts #yeonjun hard hours #yeonjun fic #txt fic #txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #this yeonjun reminds me of yeonjun in one of my fics and i LOVE it #may add this to the list of things to write part 2's too #not my fav endings but i had to #its IMPORTANT

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

JJ not having money for valentine's day but planning a cute date with him

A little late to the party, but here's a cute valentine's day blurb

—

You knew JJ couldn't afford to get you anything big for Valentine's day, so you decided that you wouldn't buy each other anything. Valentine's Day was about spending time with the person you love, not getting each other the most expensive gifts. So you invited him over to make heart shaped pizzas for dinner and watch movies. It was simple, but you knew JJ would love it. 

‘’There's never enough cheese,’’ he said, adding more to the mountain on his pizza.

‘’You can't call this a pizza. It's just cheese and sauce.’’ You looked around the table for a veggie that he would not scrunch his nose at. ‘’Here, add some red bell peppers—’’ You grabbed some red bell peppers and tried to add them to his mountain of cheese, but JJ caught your hands.

He shook his head. ‘’Uh uh. No veggies allowed on this pizza! This is Chef JJ’s pizza. Do not interfere in my zone,’’ he said in an exaggerated — and terrible — Italian accent. 

You laughed at his antics. His humor was one of your favorite things about JJ. He loves to crack jokes and make stupid voices just to make his friends laugh. Unfortunately, he often used humor to cover up his emotions and pain. 

As you watched the pizzas cook in the oven, it was obvious which was which. Yours had a very clear shape of a heart and JJ’s was all kinds of crooked. It wasn’t as aesthetically pleasing as the cute date pictures that flooded social media, but you still took a picture of them before eating and posted it. 

‘’Yours is too perfect. It's not fair,’’ JJ complained when you got them out of the oven. ‘’Mine looks like a messy blob.’’ He poked at the uneven edges of his own creation, burning his finger in the process and hissing.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. ‘’Careful, babe. It’s hot.’’ 

You plated the pizzas and both settled down on the couch to watch a movie before your parents would return from their dinner date.

The crust was a little overcooked and the rom-com wasn't really good, but you preferred imperfect moments. It corresponds better to your relationship.

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx  @sweeterheartxamerica  @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife  @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue  @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker  @slvtherinseeker @poppet05 @1stevelacyfan @illf4iry @withbeautyandrage  @maybankslover @sunflowerziva @laylasbunbunny @Honey-marvel15 @leoluvsur-pappy @slytherhoes @kcskye123 @outerbanksacc  @pedrosprincess  @mikaelsonsstuff  @skyesthebomb  @a1mzcruml3y @iluurmom  @popeheywardssecretgf  @madelynie  @loverofdrewstarkey  @radiant-whore  @outsider-at-hogwarts @luci1fer @bbycowboi @rafecameronsbadussy @urbfsbitchlol @nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @Veescorneroftheworld  @papayaboyluvr @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster @tommysaxes @johannelis2302nely @lynbubble  @straberryshortcake143 @beth-gallagher22 @doestalker @rubyliquor @theflcwer @angelxxrose @sierraluvzz @cruzgrecia @evelestrange @sunnysunny133696  @under-seasoned-pasta @hoeforsirius

All and more taglist:  @kenqki  @hawkegfs  @gillybear17   @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade   @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3   @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs  @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis  @katherinejess  @rafesgirlstuff  @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity

#jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #outer banks #outer banks imagine #obx

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Old Scars, New Blood 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, borderline bullying, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader has accepted that she’ll never be wanted, not only by the man she’s crushed on for years, but by anyone. That is until a new player enters the game. (f!, short!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen, Thor Odinson

Note: Man, I need some sleep.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

As the large house fills with the rabble of strange men and flowing alcohol, you retreat back to your quarters and stare at your dead phone. Still not sign of life from Lloyd but that doesn't worry you in any existential way. He always finds a way to scrape by, it's just that you usually hear from him by now. Even when he leaves you behind, he has a dozen orders for you. Not that time.

You lean against the headboard and mull the walls. Maybe you'll finally leave this life. You should be proud you got this far. You weren't exactly honed in blood like these underhanded mercenaries. You're just an executive assistant who took a chance. A woman and a Craig's List add, what an origin story.

After a while, you find it hard to sit still. You leave your bed in a mess from the turmoil of your nerves. You drag yourself to the door. You must look like you're going through a breakup, at the very lest, a crisis. A grey gap hoodie and black leggings. You shuffle around in your beat up Keds and drift downstairs, concealing yourself in the distraction and cacophony of the full house. Valhalla and his men jeer from the dining room as you slip past, a quick peek inside at the joining of forces. 

Rico sits near the head of the table next to the gargantuan blonde with his braided locks and rugged jawline. The host looks less than impressed as his guest guffaws and claps his back roughly. You don't stay and watch, hurrying on as your stomach squeezes hungrily. You find when Lloyd's not around to demand his meals, you tend to forget to feed yourself.

You enter the kitchen and find chaos strewn over the counter tops. Bottles, some half-filled, others empty, littered over the granite. Crumbs and whole chunks of cheese and meat tossed around carelessly, a lingering stench hanging in the air. You assume the staff is hiding until there aren't men mixing alcohol and firearms.

You pull open the fridge and growl to find your neatly stacked containers gone. You keep your own food and Lloyd's precisely curated. You're a planner and meal planning is your greatest pride. While the other men depend on the processed foods dished up by the help, you make sure to feed your boss his preferred organic cuts. The door shuts as you let it go and turn to peruse the kitchen. There's a bag of biscuits with some spilling out. You leave the spilled cookies on the counter and claim the rest.

You stop as you come to face the wine rack. A single bottle remains in the crisscrossed slats of wood. You're not exactly fond of Risling but you've never been very picky. Nor much of a drinker.

You slide the bottle out with a soft clink against the rack and consider the label. You're not expert, would it pair well with shortbread? You compare the rumbled package of cookies and the pristine font on the bottle.

"Another!" The booming voice makes you leap and you spin around, the wine sloshing in the glass and loosening your grip. You face the large man as he bounces into the kitchen and the long neck slips free entirely. You step back with a surprised squeak as the glass smashes around your feet, sending a splash of wine up your leggings. 

Valhalla stops short as he finds you standing in the ruin of your surprise. His rosy cheeks pale and his cheeks draw to a more sober expression, a glint still gleaming behind his bright blue irises, "ah, pardon, my lady, I didn't mean to startle you. And look at what I've done," he gestures to your feet. You lift a shoe and he makes a noise, "ah, ah, do not move."

He comes closer as you stand dumbly in the shards. You look down then back at him. "I have shoes on--"

"And you wouldn't want to stain them," he insists as he nears. You shy away but not fast enough. He picks you up easily, like a hero in a ridiculous story, scooping you over the broken glass and carrying you to safe ground. "Forgive me for wasting the wine."

"It's fine," you wiggle in his hold, the bag of cookies wrinkling loudly, "really, I think..." you look down, dizzy as you see the pattern of tile below, "you can put me down, sir. Please, if you don't mind."

"As you wish," he places you gently on your feet, "what an introduction. Valhalla," he holds out his large hand, his palm rough and calloused, fingers thick but lock, "and you, beautiful woman lurking in the shadows?"

Your breath is stolen by the unexpected compliment. You remind yourself that it is only gas. He's like Lloyd, he must be, compliments are only currency. You take his hand and introduce yourself as sternly as you can. Your voice is barely more than a mousy squeak.

"It is you," he lights up as he tilts his head, clinging to your hand. 

"Me?" You question.

"Oh, I hope you remember. I suppose I am forgettable. We emailed... how pathetic I must sound," he chuckles at himself.

"No, I remember," you wiggle your hand and look at it, still trapped in his grip.

"Apologies," he lets you go, fingers brushing your palm reluctantly, "I only... I was disappointed when you disappeared."

"I disappeared?" You frown. "You never answered my last message."

"I..." he pauses, "I was in communication with Hansen, he said he preferred to take on the negotiations himself."

"Oh," you nod. Lloyd never mentioned that. "Of course, I'm so... careless. I have so much going on. I... I should've said goodbye. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he pleas, "you've nothing to be sorry for. I should be. I might make it up to you. You like wine, so let us grab a bottle and catch up."

"Catch up," you muse meekly, "you make it sound like we're old friends."

"Aren't we?"

"Emails..." you murmur.

He laughs as he turns and goes to the wine rack, ignoring the puddle of glass and wine by his feet.

"That was the last bottle," you say dully.

"There must be a cellar, I'm certain the best vintages are there," he turns as he pokes his finger into the air, "let us go scavenge."

"Uh, that's nice and all but I think... cookies are just fine for me."

"Cookies?" He comes back to you, eyeing the bag in your hand, "shortbread. My favourite."

"Oh, well, erm, if you want some--"

"Only if you come with them," he meets your gaze and you shy away at his implication.

You open your mouth but no sound comes out.

"I mean, I'd like to eat them with you. Share them," he stammers slightly, another rocky chuckle escapes him, "I've been on the road long, I'm afraid I'm bit delirious."

"It's fine, I wouldn't want to-- you and your men should settle in and maybe tomorrow--"

"Tonight. Right now. I can't wait. I'm not known for it," he seizes your hand, "come, meet my men."

"I... please," he tugs you, moving you with little effort, "I'm only an assistant."

"Bring your cookies," he insists, ignoring your protests.

You can't stop him. Your soles squeak and slide under you as he drags you into the hall and through the wide archway of the dining room. The men at the table are drunk and a few whistle as you pass by, even as female agents sit smattered among the group.

Valhalla brings you to the head of the table and claims the empty chair awaiting him. Before you can react, he lifts you onto his lap, his arm firm against your back.

"Wait-- what are you--" you can barely catch your breath with how fast everything is moving, "I really should-- Lloyd will be back soon and I have to--"

"Forget him. I want to know about you," he bows his head, focusing on the cookie bag as he slips his fingers through the open top. He plucks one out, admiring it before holding it out to you, "please, you first."

You go to take the cookie from him, shifting on his leg, uncomfortable as you hear the snickers from the table. You must look ridiculous. This man is like a storm, he just comes in and blows everything out of sorts. He pulls the cookie away from your reaching fingers, instead hovering it before your mouth. You swallow, too humiliated to look anywhere but him.

"I can--"

He shakes his head and presses the shortbread to your lips, quieting you. You open your mouth and bite into the crumble buttery goodness. You snap your teeth shut and chew stiffly, lowering your eyes as he watches you. He tosses the rest of the biscuit into his mouth and hums.

"Delicious," he remarks as his fingers tickle the back of your arm, "now, we have tonight. Tomorrow we can work, but now, you will tell me everything."

"Lloyd--"

"Not him," he interrupts again, "you," he cups your chin in his hand, "I travelled all this way, won't you humour me just a little?"

You rub your lips together. What can you say? Every time you try to come up with something, it begins 'Lloyd...' Is there even anything interesting about you? Have you lost yourself so completely to your own foolish crush?

"Tell me," Valhalla rests his hand on your shoulder more firmly, "anything. Tell me your favourite cookie. Just speak and I will listen."

You look at him again. Listen? How long have you longed for someone to do just that? To be heard? To be seen? It's almost as if he knows and is heeding that desperate call inside of you.

"The little..." you put your fingers up to show the size you have in mind, "jam-filled ones," your voice grows less wobbly as you speak, "with the bit of custard."

"Ah, those are a delight," he proclaims, "my brother is overly fond of those. I caught him sneaking some at the family holiday last year-- anyhow, he is another matter. I see it, you are sweet, you like sweet things." He frames your face with his hand, "and you have a sweet voice, tell me more.”

"I..." you begin and push your shoulders into a shrug. You take out a cookie, needing to do something with your hands, "I'm not that interesting."

You nibble on the cookie as he laughs again. Not mean or judgmental like Lloyd, just fun. You focus on chewing, wilting away as you feel him watching you.

"I'm interested," he intones, his timbre blowing through you.

You don't know what to say. There are no words. It's like you're the centre of the world in that moment, or at the least, of his. A man you hardly know, a man you only ever encountered in text.

Or maybe you're all wrong. Maybe you're misinterpreting every word he says. Just like you did with Lloyd. Searching for any sliver of longing.

"In fact," he leans back, rubbing your back casually, "you're the only interesting thing I've found in this place."

❤️‍🩹

The night sweeps you up like a whirlwind. You don't quite remember it ending, waking up in bed with remnants of the evening dancing in your mind. Valhalla's voice nips at you, sending spirals over your flesh, zapping every nerve as it echoes in your ears.

You almost feel guilty that he's your first thought. How he never looked away, never spoke to anyone else, only you. His entire focus was yours.

And yours was his. You listened to his stories, mentions of his family, though his reputation never suggested sentiment. His tales of firefights made comical by his retelling. The way he described his homeland like some mystical paradise. He filled the void left by your own boring life.

You stretch and roll over, sitting up as something dangles down your chest. You look down. Still inhe same hoodie you wore all night was a charm hanging between the strings. You take it between your fingers and examine the medallion, a bullet lodges into it, the burn of gunpowder seared around it. Strange.

A waft of amber and citrus clings to the sweater. You dare to take a whiff before you stand. It smells like him.

You peel off your sweater reluctantly and hang it, opting to skip the hamper. You strip your leggings and your undershirt and pick a fresh outfit. Something more appropriate.

You force yourself into the shower and come out feeling awake. You pull on each piece; a pair of stiff slacks and a striped blouse, paired with a gray blazer. Your usual dull attire.

You sit and slide into a pair of leather flats. The mornings aren't usually hard. Something is different. Something has changed.

You head downstairs and find several staff working at tidying the previous night's ribaldry. You enter the kitchen and set the keurig to brew a cup as bodies scurry around you. Everyone has their place here; you, Rico, and Lloyd.

But not Valhalla.

At the very thought of him, a blaring horn takes over. Your ears throb and you forget your mug as you race to the front door. There's a man passed out against the wall in his own puke. Wonderful.

You pull open the left door as the gate opens and tires bounce over the paved drive. Lloyd is behind the wheel to your surprise, laying into the horn as he skids to a halt. Grumbling comes from behind you as Rico drags his feet and peers out over your head.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

The alcohol lingers in his breath. You step outside to escape his stench. Lloyd swings open the door and hops out, smiling at the sky as he presents himself as some great hero returned home.

“Morning, fuckers!” He bellows.

Silence, only an odd rhythm. You realise as a figure jogs around the east wing that it's footfalls. You turn to look as Rico and Lloyd do the same. It's him, Valhalla, running towards you.

He smiles, unaffected by his brisk pace as he nears, a smile on his face as he waves. He slows and you get a clear sight of his shirtless torso. He wears only running shoes and a pair of riskily short shorts. 

There's a sheen of sweat over his skin but he hardly seems spent. His veins bulge beneath his skin and his muscles are thick but toned. His chest is broad and trimmed in golden hair, every part him immense and statuesque.

You almost let out the ‘wow’ as it creeps up your throat.

“Who the fuck is this ken doll?” Lloyd asks as he points to Valhalla.

“Ah, you must be Hansen,” Valhalla ignores his brusque question and holds put his hand.

“Who's asking?” Lloyd rests his hand on his holster.

Valhalla smiles and gives his name, unfaltering as he keeps his hand put. Lloyd doesn't shake it as he scowls. He looks the larger man up and down.

“You're early.”

“Or you're late,” Valhalla challenges and turns, clapping his hand on Lloyd's shoulder as it goes unshaken, “I thought you'd be bigger.”

Lloyd tilts his head, a grimace twisting his features, “huh?”

“I must day, it's a nice property,” Valhalla continues, gesturing to the house. He smirks and gives you a wink, “very welcoming.” He grips Lloyd's shoulder and pulls him closer, “I could get you somewhere even bigger. How about that?”

Lloyd squints at Valhalla, head craned awkwardly, “yeah?”

Valhalla smiles, “let's talk.”

#lloyd hansen #thor #dark lloyd hansen #dark thor #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!thor #thor x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #mcu #marvel #avengers #fic #au #series #multifandom #dark fic #dark!fic

[dustorange]

opinions?… 😬😬

https://www.tumblr.com/melmov/750293558453501952?source=share

link

Wfa =free, comics = $3.99 per -> subsidized demand -> market distortion -> :/ :(

The claim of that post—“people have gotten tired of unrelenting grimdark” e.g. actual DC main runs and therefore prefer “slice-of-life fluff [that] also presents a coherent, easy-to-enter, balanced storyline” e.g. WFA—is directionally accurate but its also sort of talking about a Different Group of People than DC Comics Readers.

in particular there is a group of people who have been pretty much totally deracinated from developing or being capable of developing their own opinions on media or humor or life. because of social media and maybe also they r very young. there is a general valence to that part of fandom: the incorrect quotes, the Canva-post-derived politics, the memetic vocab + jokes and like this weird very limited view of redditizedhistory and culture+literature consisteing of the binding of Isaac and twoheadedcalf poem. and so there is just genuinely not the ability to process things that haven’t been run through a filter of accessibility. and WFA, which has BEAUTIFUL art and lots of very sweet moments, IS super accessible and its also sort of been through the preapproved foundfamily neoliberal kitsch machine and come out with a passing grade. but yes it is missing that like elusive Something and it also lacks a seriousness and it isnt the Characters. it’s something else. And its so pretentious to say its for people who don’t have the like stamina ??? for longerform storytelling but yes if you pressed me i would say its a bunch of people, primarily young genz and millennial girls/women, whose critical mental faculties and attention spans have been fried by social media and underexposure to challenging original content

that’s a different new group being lassoed into dc stuff from the previous existing audience. The DC Comics Reader People. i don’t know how much of this to do gender politics with but comics fandom has DEFINITELY gotten MUCH more female in the last 2 decades and there was a distinctive male comic book go-to-the-LCS-and-get-physical-copies and rigorously-autisticslly-fight-about-minutia-of-canon culture. Men also r going to be the one who GENERALLY prefer your fightheavy “”””grimdark””” comics, as opposed to women who doooo generally prefer social relational content. And also women-dominated comics fandom spaces are obviously qualitatively different from men’s fandom spaces. So PART of the reason WFA outsells real DC stuff is market distortion and PART is the DCfan genderdemographic shift that favors content like WFA

I rly hesitate to endorse a lot of Canon dc tumblr’s posts about the fanony WFA-style stuff bc it seems so clear that a the latter is enjoyed primarily by a group of very young people and it also feels like there’s a weird power imbalance intellectually between fanon and canon people. AND I AM A BIG BELIEVER IN LET PEOPLE READ AND ENJOY THE CONTENT THEY WANT and they shouldn’t be shamed for enjoying something as visually sweet and cute as WFA. and a lot of canon tumblr’s rants abt fanon stuff r clearly sort of excessively vicious and insecure attempts to feel superior. although admittedly quietly they r correct but it comes off cruel idk. also i think that BATMAN and superman and to some extent some others ARE indeed very flexible in terms of what is canon and what you have to consume to have consumed The Character and The Story. ive never seen BTAS but as far as im concerned, someone who has only watched BTAS is someone who has the right to do whatever batman stuff they want.

Related questions are: Is mainline DC batman stuff GOOD right now? and Is WFA good? I agree that mainline DC stuff isnt the best right now and i haven’t read WFA so i can’t comment on its quality but i honestly don’t think its the case that “WFA is better written than actual Batman comics, so thats why WFA is more popular” lol

#THANK U FOR ASKING LEGEND MUAH kissing your forehead this was super interesting to think about i hadn’t seen that post before!!! What are #your opinions???

[notesfromthepalace]

The Nara Smiths of this World

I'd like to begin with saying in no way, shape, or form, will I be bashing the beautiful Black woman, wife and mother, Nara Smith. I actually aspire to be like her.

I also prefer content and media (both digital and physical) that cater to the life I have been creating for myself:

Led by God

With a God-fearing man (soon to be my fiancé - then husband, God-willing),

As a wife and mother,

While having the time and ease to do things that bring me peace and happiness like basking in the sun, working out, creating dinner experiences, rolling in academia - simultaneously having a career with a lower tempo, hints my transition from one career field to another (another post for another day).

I love watching her content, especially all of the dishes she makes from scratch.

But what upsets me, are the Black women that make a mockery of her lifestyle and make the excuse like "who wants to be a traditional wife" or "ain't nobody got time for all of that" and people saying that her lifestyle is unrealistic.

Lets be real.

A lot of women who bash Nara Smith are jealous.

Nara Smith is a young woman who is also a model, married, with two children and a third on the way.

Besides being a model, what about my previous statement is unrealistic or unattainable?

"Well who makes everything from scratch like that?!"

Everyone outside of the United States of America, darling.

I implore all the women who read my blog to please travel outside of the United States. Everyone makes everything from scratch and not only is it healthier, it taste amazing.

My first experience in Europe was the Summer of 2017, as an intern at the University of Science and Technology in Bydgoszcz, Poland.

While interning, I also traveled to Germany and Amsterdam.

During my tenure in Europe, I walked everywhere, used public transportation (it was clean, on time and efficient if I may add), went to people's homes where they made their authentic dishes and simple ones from scratch - while simultaneously losing 15lbs, and not on purpose.

Making your desired entrees from scratch versus using products that are processed and already made with preservatives are better for your health. Not only do you taste the difference but you will feel the difference.

Back to the point of women being jealous of Nara Smith's more traditional lifestyle and leisure:

The unfortunate truth of this - speaking as a Black woman with real Black Women experiences - so many Black women are truly perturbed by Nara's choice to take the time to cater to her children, household and husband as she does.

I think most of this disturbance comes from the fact that as Black women, we're told from early youth to work so hard and earn so many accolades where we do not need a man/husband and to not submit to the idea of motherhood and marriage until you receive every possible degree, award and accomplishment - which turns into us working just as hard as men to achieve a certain status, settling down in our mid 30s, yikes!

I have recently transitioned from one career field to another due to my desire to not only become a wife, but a mother.

But not an overworked wife who does not have time to cater to herself, household and husband, but a mother who has the time to be as hands-on as possible, make dinner, be a part of the Parent Teacher Association (PTA), etc.

This was my reality as a child. My parents were married; My father had a career that pulled him away sometimes but he was the providing a comfortable life for my mother, sister and I. My mother chose to have an at-home daycare so she can make my sister and I breakfast in the morning, be home to receive us after school, help us with our lessons, and put us to sleep. She was intentional with her career choice so she could cater to herself, take care of her home and her family.

And there is nothing wrong with a woman choosing to still work to have some independence, but choosing a career that is not as demanding that she sacrifices her family for it.

I brought all of this up due to conversations I had with women in my previous line of work who tried to convince me that I could "have it all" as they like to say: meaning that I could have the demanding career and title, be married, and have children.

Anyone who knows me personally, knows that I am extremely observant. During the last four years in my career field, I paid attention and listened quite carefully to the women who had children in both orthodox and unorthodox manners. The women who were married, with a child or children said all of the following:

"There was a time I spent a year away from my child, leaving them at three months of age."

"I was on my feet working just to go home and still be working."

"I got divorced because he couldn't understand that I wanted a certain level of success and being at home would not push me towards that goal."

"I don't even have time for myself."

"I have missed so many important moments."

Mind you, there's more. And I'm not saying that you cannot be married, with children and have a demanding career. I just believe it is irresponsible for older career woman to perpetuate the narrative that you can have 100% of everything all at the same time - when it's not true. Something or someone is going to be neglected.

So when I chose to transition out of my previous occupation, all of these women kept trying to persuade me to stay, but then I looked at their lives, it was not what I wanted:

Woman 1: Divorced with a boyfriend, three children (two different fathers) - spent months at a time away from her children, struggles with being feminine; Top of the food chain at work.

Woman 2: Married closer to 40, one child, lives a flight away from her husband to keep her demanding career, spends weeks away from her son.

Woman 3: Divorced, two children, sleeping around (with people we know) and the joke of our department, falls in love fast, one son has joined a gang, ex-husband is in-and-out of jail; Has worked for our organization for 15 years.

Woman 4: Left her newborn after two months to take a position in another country for a year, marriage suffered tremendously, also another "big dog" for the organization.

Now, as a woman who wants the lifestyle I already described in the paragraphs at the beginning of my piece, are these stories that I would want to emulate?

ABSOLUTELY NOT!

I won't go as far as saying that this is every woman's reality who has a demanding career, but even the women who stay married and have children have also told me that their marriage suffered tremendously and there is a closeness they lack with their children.

And again, that statement is not for the totality of working woman, but it's a shared experience of most.

When I told multiple women that I am ready to be a wife and a mother I was told I would regret it.

I don't and I won't.

I've had a job since I was 16; I have dated, traveled, lived in the city and suburbs on my own, and my truest desire is to live a life of leisure and peace, with my future husband and children.

So, for the girlies who are ready to settle down, leave the busy careers behind, do it!

Side bar - I just turned 26, I want to have my first child before 30 (and after I am married of course).

And do not, I repeat, DO NOT allow people's opinions, especially your Black female peers (it is what it is), to dissuade you from the lifestyle you truly desire, because they are the same women who complain about how miserable they are because of their choices, and misery loves company.

Choose your family, choose love, choose yourself.

With Love,

Sarah Chanel

#black women #black women in luxury #luxuriousbw #luxury #black femininity #black women in leisure #black women fashion #blackwomen #black beauty #nara smith #motherhood #marriage #relationships #happiness

[littledigits]

thoughts on the cut episodes and ppls reactions 'n stuff

Since it was confirmed that a few more episodes of Hilda were written but cut, I do think the reaction of people finding this out is really interesting and not just because its fairly common in the industry and isint a sign of anything bad necessarily. I mean heck, in a weird way being behind the scenes and then seeing how people interpret things, what they take as important, what they think is a thread…all of that is interesting. When your job is basically trying to get people to pick up what you're putting down storywise its kind of a neat topic, because everyone communicates in their own way.

BTW before I keep going this is not a post to say dont crit/vent/complain/whatever about whatever the heck you want in hilda or any media, you do you. I think peoples honest takes are fascinating (said in victoria van gale voice) and even just people speaking their mind shows that they are interested and they care so that matters. Also not one singular post triggered this, its just been on my mind as I surface level read things so no stressies.

When It comes to the cut episodes, I'm seeing some people assume that whatever was cut would have fixed some of the crits they may have had about the season..and who knows, maybe yes? But I'd say ultimately probably not. Not because they dont include things that people want to see, or may have some topics people want expanded on ..but because thats just impossible in the grand scheme of things.

I mean this applies to shows in general, not just hilda. Every person who watches a show has their own idea of what the show represents to them. For some of its more of the surface events or characters where as others connect it with a deeper emotion. A lot of people respond to different tones of the episodes, which there are many. Some people prefer the one off adventures that stand alone as their own stories and others want to see more of a stronger through line. Some may see a new character and expect a new arc and thread, while others wonder why we couldn't've used a previously introduced character. Some may read between the lines more and others may take what is presented as very straight forward and literal …and no one is WRONG, because our big wrinkly brain meats all have their own tastes and ways of imputing information.

Television animation is rife with factors that actually futz with the quality and ability of the team to make a beautiful, amazing product like EVERY DAY. The script process and what goes into production is just one. The team is made up of many creatives all with their own varied experiences and voices just like the audience. In order for people to have their own voices and say, you are going to end up with some things that hit better then others, especially if the team is allowed to grow and experiment and play a little. Hilda has always been a show where we've been able to have a lot of creative say, and i think that sincerity comes through ! but with the sincerity and that humanity, it also means that there are going to be things that arnt going to make sense in the grand scheme of things lol. Even the writers and creators and producers have differing opinions on what to explore and dive into, probably more so then fandoms haha. Having more episodes may scratch some itches but not all, HECK, those episodes being cut could have re-allocated resources to other areas that helped elevate your fav ep of the season ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ who knows! Schrodinger's episodes! (also ngl I was having cold sweats over the scope of some of them as cool as they were. The season may have been shorter but it was intense..it takes a long time to do stuff that looks that clean and crisp)

Imperfect art is very human! Do the best you can at the time with the factors you have. I was given so much trust and freedom on my episodes, and I was just happy to do something fun that allowed me and my team to grow and learn. I was fucking STOKED to get a one off story because it was way less pressure for me to take my next step directing cuz just doing the thing is a feat. Any sincerity you feel cant come through if that means we're afraid that we cant make mistakes, or do a story choice ppl wont vibe with. All you can do is do the best you can, see if people are picking up what you're putting down, and grow from it for next time.

Anyway, just a thought ramble. Its not to say do or dont do this or think this way blah blah. I just love that storytelling is messy and complex and everyones gonna take it a lil differently, especially if you have a team where you allow lots of voices to have input. It is all just a big experiment to see if people leave with a particular experience by putting your resources into the things you have that matter, and try you best to distract from burnt edges or patched up holes that happened throughout the process of making the dang thing lol.

#me as marge simpson holding up a potato of communication #I just think they're NEAT #it is cool to see who vibes with what episodes and why #lil rambley bits #I personally strive for a good 7/10 #maybe a 7.5 if im feeling spicy #everything else is luck

[ilguna]

☼ trick question pt2 (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; Finnick admitted you were his celebrity crush a few years ago, and this year, he's got something planned.

warnings; swearing,

wc; 1.5k

–

There’s no better feeling than finishing a film and getting to relax afterward, especially with your dazzling boyfriend, a few feet away.

You thought that you were going to be sad once the whole process was over, mostly because your co-stars this time around were too good to let go. You were afraid that you would all lose touch, but that’s not the case. You’ve kept up to date with them as much as possible, even with your busy lives.

If you’re being honest, it’s almost as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You like the pressure from fans that expect you to get every detail right, it gives you a goal to complete. Even if other people would prefer that you give it your own sort of twist to make it unique. However, sometimes too much pressure weighs you down.

You’ve been looking forward to this trip ever since Finnick suggested it. His time off request got approved by Cinna, and you can’t find yourself to care about filming any more movies in the near future. He suggested that the two of you take a couple weeks off—a whole month, if you felt like it—to relax and get yourself back on track.

You thought it was excessive, and you were sure that you were going to be bored half of the time. And then you realized that you get to spend this time doing whatever you want. You can dedicate your time to Finnick, watch a new television series, read a few books, scroll on social media, pick up a new hobby, the list is really endless.

So far, though, you’ve found out that you like to be around Finnick. Neither of you have to be interacting, exactly, but as long as he’s near, and easy access to talk to, you’re happy. You two can be lost in your own worlds, and it wouldn’t even matter, because he’s right there to keep you company.

Any other guy you dated in the past would be bored out of their goddamn minds. Half of them always wanted to be out and doing things. They had to be on the move, taking pictures wherever they went so that they’d be able to show off to their followers. You would follow them, hoping that by the end of the night, they’d slow down enough to spend time with you alone.

All you ever got was disappointment.

You pause where you’re reading to take another look at Finnick. You’ve been stealing glances every now and then, because you can’t believe that you got lucky enough to have him. He’s been spending a lot of time in the pool lately, which has tanned his skin, bringing out the freckles that litter his shoulders. His hair is in little ringlets on his forehead from the chlorine, too.

He’s currently playing with his bottom lip, scrolling on his phone. He said that his goal this trip was to lower his screen time, and he’s been doing a great job so far. He can’t help checking social media to see what other people are up to. He’s told you that it feels like you’re taking a vacation from the world, even though you aren’t.

Finnick’s eyes flick upward, catching you staring at him. A small smile comes over his face, “What is it?”

“Just admiring the view.” You say cheekily, winking at him before you look back down at the book.

He lets out a laugh, shaking his head at you, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

The book you’re reading is another dystopian novel. They all seem to carry the same theme of overthrowing the government in some way. Instead of teenagers doing it, this one is about adults coming together to do it. It’s been pretty good so far. You like being able to follow a male protagonist. The supporting female character is good, too.

She holds a lot of the same qualities that the characters in televisions shows that you play do. You could easily find yourself playing this woman a few years down the line, when the book finally gets popular enough for a movie to be made out of it. You’ve exhausted most of the market at this point. You’re going to start having to play regular people in shows.

You’re sure it won’t be that bad, you just like complaining about it. Finnick’s heard what you’ve had to say about a hundred times now. And each time he feigns interest in hearing it again.

“I think you should read this one when I’m done with it.” You flip the page, “I think you’d like it.”

“What’s it about?” He looks up from his phone.

“Overthrowing the government, as per usual.” You laugh, showing him the cover.

He makes a face, tilting his head, “If you remind me when you’re done, I’ll give it a try.”

“That’s what you say every time, and you end up liking the series by the end of the book.” You tell him.

A warm summer breeze blows through the backyard. It feels nice on your skin after sitting out in the heat for so long. You’re not directly in the sun, you’re in the shade under the roof, and so is Finnick, but it’s bakingly hot. You wanted to get through a couple of chapters before giving in, especially since it’s nice out, but you’re not going to make it.

You place your bookmark between the pages, stretching your arms behind your head. This seems to catch Finnick’s attention. He places his phone face-down on the table, watching you for a second.

“Are you ready to go inside?” He asks.

“Yeah, it’s too hot out here, and I’m about ready for lunch. I’m craving sandwiches.” 

“That sounds good.” He agrees, “Um—before we do that, can we take pictures by the pool? I saw some inspirational pictures and I want to try them out.”

You give him a look, slightly entertained by the idea of him scrolling through pinterest and thinking that you should make pictures of your own like that. It’s not too far out for him to do something like that, though. He’s always looking for ways to take pictures with you so that he can post them and show you off to his followers.

“Okay, where do you want me?” You ask, getting up from where you’re sitting at the table.

He points you toward the pool, “On the edge over there.”

“Like, sitting down or standing up?”

“Standing up, the sun is in a perfect position.” He says. 

You watch him set his phone up, using his glass of water to prop it up. He presses the record button, probably so that he’ll be able to go back and take screenshots of the perfect photo moments. He refuses to hire a photographer for things like this, insisting that it’s more memorable if he takes the pictures himself.

He guides you up to the pool, keeping you a couple steps away from it. He then turns you to face the sun, directing you on how to pose. You wrap your arms around your stomach, and barely look over your shoulder to give him a smile. He makes you do a bunch of small dumb poses to get you ready for the big pictures, knowing how you like to be goofy to get the energy out.

“Okay, don’t move.” He tells you.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You mutter, posing a little more seriously.

It’s a few seconds of pure silence, and you’re waiting for him to tell you to change to a different position. When it never comes, you turn around to find out what the hell he’s doing.

You can feel your heart leap into your throat, a scream accidentally leaving you when you see that Finnick’s on one knee. He’s got this tiny black velvet box open, revealing a ring. You press the tips of your fingers to your mouth, tears building in your eyes.

“(Y/n), I knew the moment I took you on our first date that we would end up here.” He says, there’s a smile on his face. “I love you, and I want to know if you will marry me?”

You sniff, the tears overflowing your eyes. You nod quickly, afraid of the way your voice will sound if you speak. It doesn’t matter, you let out a laugh that’s mixed with a sob.

“Yes, Finnick, yes.” You wipe the tears from your eyes.

Finnick takes your hand, sliding the ring on your finger. He gets up, you immediately throw your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug. He squeezes you tightly, letting you cry into his chest. 

“I’m so happy I met you.” You manage to get out, “I never thought we’d actually end up here.”

“I did.” Finnick murmurs into your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “And I can’t wait to show you off to the rest of the world.”

“Caesar’s going to be so excited.” You laugh, he does too.

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x yn #finnick odair x y/n #finnick imagine #finnick oneshot #finnick fanfic #finnick x reader #thg #the hunger games #fluff #requested

[chvnnie]

Letter One: Smoke and Tears

Love Letters Series Page

wc: 2.7k

genre: angst

warnings: apocalypse au, creature feature, use of weapons (guns), alcohol - brief, injuries (gunshot wounds, though no details), fire. I believe that's all, but if I missed anything, PLEASE LET ME KNOW

summary: It's been over a week since you've heard from Chan, and the guilt is burning him alive.

this is a work of fiction. this fic in no way represents the stray kids members as people, or as a whole. you are responsible of the media you consume. please read responsibly.

series taglist: @straystayvlive, @fawnpeaks, @strayingawayy, @almighty-obsession, @ershyni, @chai-papa, @moon0fthenight, @djeniryuu — comment to be added

Hey, you.

I know I promised to write sooner. There has been a lot happening and while I sat down with my notebook daily, fully intending to respond to your last letter, something forced my attention away. I’m so fucking sorry it took me this long. I haven’t been very good about keeping my promise, have I? 

I promise to change that. Actually. There’s no excuse for missing that week window like I did. And it will never happen again. 

We got to the south side of town seven days ago. It was difficult leaving midtown, but staying there wasn’t practical. On top of all the haunting reminders, it started to get overrun. Rather than cling to the past, desperate to keep it despite its death, we chose to leave. 

The journey south only took us a day or so, but was relatively easy. Jisung cried the entire first day, walking further behind us than we would have preferred. The change has been the hardest for him — he really hasn’t settled in yet here. I’m scared he never will. 

But other than that, there really weren’t many hiccups. I was feeling optimistic; we hadn’t had this good of a journey probably since the start of it all. No injuries, no misplaced anger. Simply doing what we needed to survive. 

We even found a bunker within the day of arrival, saving us the risk of camping out in the open. A tall, abandoned building. I think it used to be an office. The cubicles have been nice. You know how limited privacy is now, so we take what we can get. It was easy to barricade all the exits, and our walkies actually work here (that was the one thing about midtown I despised). There’s even a kitchen! God, what a luxury. Truly, it seemed like a long term place. 

Until day four. 

There’s only two entries to the office; the front and the fire escape. It was Seungmin’s night to guard the front, Hyunjin at the back. I sat in the long conference room with Jisung — the window faces the street. It’s a good lookout. All was quiet, as it had been so far. I pulled out my journal fully intending to write to you. 

That’s when Jisung gasped, pulling his binoculars from his face and hitting me to grab my attention. I grabbed my own, and followed where he was pointing. No, it wasn’t what you’re expecting. 

“Are those people?” Jisung had asked me. 

My vision isn’t bad, but even I had to squint. He was right; though the group wasn’t big, it was obvious by the way they were walking. 

By the torches they were holding. 

For a while, we just watched. But I don’t think it was from lack of entertainment, rather sheer shock. The torches were touching homes, old buildings, flames blossoming at high speeds and dancing in the night sky. Screaming for attention, begging the Nots to come find them. To find all of us. 

The south side isn’t safe. Though the word has spread, I can tell you my love, that I’ve never feared I wouldn’t see you again until we broke into this god forsaken office building. 

Jisung had a window cracked, the perfect amount of space for his sniper to slip through. He was up and at the gun before I could fully process what was happening. 

“I have a shot.” He says within seconds, the cracked circular glasses fogging up. “At one. I could take at least three out—“

“Don’t.” I said, adjusting the binoculars to get a better view. Twelve people, I counted. All around our age, a mix of men and women. Each of them laughed as they turned the earth to ash. “Wait.”

“Chan, we need to act now.” He’s getting ready. I can tell. Tongue between his teeth, digging until the muscle breaks into a tiny cut, blood slowly filling his mouth. “They’re headed our way.”

He’d give away our location, I explained. The group isn’t close enough to be a danger. We need to wait, to see if there's a motive behind the destruction. Humanity is all united against the dark — there has to be a purpose behind this betrayal. 

Jisung wasn’t happy with me. Between forcing him from midtown and now this, I feared that night that if we didn’t lose our lives, I’d lose one of my most trusted friends. Still, he didn’t shoot, following the one we picked as the leader with his gun. Ready in case the okay was given. 

It didn’t take long for me to allow it. I don’t want our letters to just be about the horrors we’re facing. The suffering of being apart. So I will spare you the details of what made me allow the shot, and death of these twelve people. 

We didn’t see the thirteenth until it was too late. Until the makeshift cross was pitched in the center of the burning homes, the screams of this man were loud enough to wake the dead. In a world where everything has been taken from us, our lives forced apart, something I believe we all deserve is safety. 

Except for the twelve. While I mourned the man, I was delighted to watch the fire claim its creators. 

The rest of the night was quiet. Jisung and I sat in silence as we watched other refugees extinguish the flames, sharing a can beer we had been shaving. The luxury felt needed after what we had witnessed. 

His hair has gotten long. I think you’d really like it; it’s charming, especially when he ties in a little half pony. The cut on his cheek I mentioned in my last letter has healed nicely; Seungmin is getting better at his stitch work. The stars weren’t visible that night, but with the moonlight that pooled in from the windows, his eyes made you think there were. 

After he took a sip of the beer, his face twisted in disgust. “This is rancid.”

It made me laugh, the dramatic way he stuck out his tongue as he searched for the water jug. “I think it might be a little expired.”

“Oh? You think?”

“If you want to be a bitch, then I’ll just finish it off.”

God. I wish you could have seen the way he smiled, or could have felt the warmth that filled my chest at the sight of it. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Jisung smile like that. He even laughed, which made me do the same even though my eyes were burning from smoke and tears. 

I volunteered to keep watch the next few nights, though it didn’t come without push back. I said I wasn’t tired, though the truth is that I didn’t want to subject the rest of them to the suffering happening outside this building. They’ve had it hard enough, and I don’t want to add to their burden. 

Day five, Felix and Changbin went out to find supplies. We made a list — things we needed, things we wanted. If a luxury could be stolen, it should be. Felix had the paper, smiling brightly at me when I gave it to him. 

I never expected to hear his sobs mere hours later. Head on Hyunjin’s lap as Seungmin tended to the wound he had gotten while they were at a store. They ran into a group of humans, they said. In the same building, though at the other side. While Changbin kept his gun drawn, they agreed to ignore them. That’s just what you do — let others survive. 

Until they saw them. And laughed, laughed, laughed when they shot Felix in the thigh. Changbin’s voice trembled when he described the group of people. Jisung looked at me, face expressionless but eyes wide. 

There were more than twelve.

Superficial, Seungmin said. He was able to remove the bullet and tend to the wound. Felix would be okay, other than the limp he’s sure to suffer long term. 

“Charming, in a way.” Seungmin joked, but it made Lix laugh. Exactly what we all wanted; if he loses his sunshine, what’s the point?

We were blessed with day six. Nothing happened. Literally — Jeongin even started to nod off at his position. The day was spent playing cards or huddling around the beat up radio. Hyunjin started a mural on one of the walls, the colors bringing us the joy we so desperately needed. 

I spent the day in one of the empty conference rooms. Sitting under the window, thumbing through the photo book you gave me. Remember that day we went to the movies to see some cheesy Christmas movie? You hated it, mocking it the entire time just to get teary eyed at the end. In the parking lot, you hit me with a snowball and how was I to let that slide? I love that photo of you, drenched in water and snow, laughing as you build another snowball. 

I flipped through it over and over, happily losing myself in the worlds tucked in those glossy photos. Though everything in the world is meeting a fiery end, you are the one constant. The driving force behind my survival, behind the protection of the others. Without you, I would succumb to the flame. Life is not worth living without you, even if all I have is letters and memories. 

Fire may take your words, though it will never take my heart. 

That day would have been a wonderful one to write. But instead I spent it reading your letters, tracing the characters of your name. How does it look so lovely? How do you make words beautiful? I spent it looking at your pictures, bringing the album to my nose and inhaling deeply. It still has faint hints of the home we shared together. Do you think we might be able to return one day? Even if not, it won’t matter. I just want you. 

But closer. We are getting closer, and closer to getting to you. It’s taken more time than I would have liked, but the apocalypse doesn’t really like making time for people. By the time you read this, we’ll have left the south side. Step by step, closer to you. 

I miss the way you kiss me. The way your lips feel against my body. I miss your breath tangling with mine like the snow colored sheets we used to lay upon. I miss inhaling you, breathing you. The way your breath would hitch when you’re surprised, when you feel good. The little huffs of air your face before laughing your heart out. 

Fuck. I need to hear that sound again. The cassette tape you sent me isn’t enough anymore. I need you.

I fell asleep in that office, your letters pressed to my chest. And when I dreamed, it was only of you. Watching the smoke hand and hand. 

The sixth day, yesterday, the Nots arrived.

We watched as they entered the town; boney backs arched, long nails scraping the streets. Their horrible squeals were almost piercing, even with our windows shut. It’s always so chilling to see them; the remains of humanity lingering on their morphed bodies. Slowly, they slink down the street. Sniffing for any signs of life. 

Felix was tucked in one of the bathrooms with Seungmin, a walkie turned on loud. If we needed to go, it needed to be fast — which left Hyunjin packing our belongings as Changbin, Jisung, and I stood in the very same conference room where we first saw the twelve. 

“They look rough.” Changbin comments, leaning against the window. He had been keeping watch on the front entrance; even though Jeongin and Minho were standing guard. A warning would be valued. “They’re hungry.”

Jisung gagged at the word, cleaning his glasses with the sleeve of his sweater. “Fucking gross, don’t say that—“

“Why do you think they’re so loud? They’re getting desperate.”

At this point, I realized my optimism was playing a part in my downfall. Even as I watched the crowd of Nots scavenge the debris, looking in trash cans and behind fences, I could only think about how lucky we were to be so high up. They couldn’t touch us, tucked away on the fifth floor of the building. 

The lookout walkie gave a crackling noise before Minho’s voice cut through; clear, measured, even though his tone was obviously frantic. 

“Breach at the fire escape.” He says quickly. 

I picked up our walkie. “Do you hear anything?”

It felt like a century before he responded, all of us holding our breath as we waited. The silence was more chilling than the shrill squawks below. It’s one we all know too well; they’ve found prey. I can only hope it isn’t us. 

Minho clicks back on, and I realize it was naive of me to be scared of the Nots. “Laughter.”

The room began to spin, my ears void of all sound except the sound of laughter. Louder and louder it, closer and closer to our floor. The most horrible melody, leaving the bitter taste of blood in my mouth as my body feels like it’s melting. 

They have flames. 

“Seungmin, take Felix out the front.” I clicked in, trying to stay as calm as possible. “Now, hurry—“

“The Nots are out.” Changbin says, eyes bouncing from the direction of the fire escape to the window. “They’re not going to make it.”

“We don’t have a choice.” Jisung mumbles, opening a window to set his gun up. He squints one eye, tracking the creatures with the barrel of his gun. “I’ll take out as many as I can.”

It was a lose/lose. No matter which exit we took, the risk was high. But something in my gut told me that we rather deal with the Nots than whatever is making that bloodcurdling laugh. 

“How close are they, Minho?”

The silence is a beat too long. “Too close. We need to fucking go.” 

There wasn’t much more than needed to be said. By the time Jisung had shot down a good number of Nots, the laughter was accompanied by banging. Slow, hollow knocks. Their fists were hitting the door. 

And then came the heat. 

The flames grew slowly from under the metal door, dancing on the worn out carpet. By the time we were rushing down the main staircase, it had already enveloped the room I had slept in. Where I had dreamed of you. 

If it weren’t for Jisung, we probably wouldn’t have been able to escape as easily as we did. Hurdling over twitching bodies of Nots, we kept our gaze ahead. Running past the cross, ducking behind remains of buildings. I don’t know how long we ran for until we came across an empty convenience store. Changbin pushed a stand against the door after we cleared it. Boxing ourselves in temporary shelter. 

At the window, Jisung stood. Arms crossed, watching the smoke tangle with the clouds. He heard me coming, yet didn’t even look up at me. “I told you we should have never left the mid.”

He didn’t sleep last night. Neither did I.

We are leaving the store pretty soon. Seungmin is checking on Felix’s wound, Changbin and Minho mapping out a new route as I write. We’re heading east this time. I’m not sure when we will stop yet. 

But east means we’re closer to you. 

I’m mailing the letter today, too. According to the calendar we’ve been keeping, it’s now August 23. The heat has been sweltering here — how is it there, for you? Probably that much different, but you’re further north than us. I can only hope a cool fall breeze will greet us when I meet you again. 

I picked a new spot for you to send your letter as our location has changed — I’ll attach a map to this and check it daily. I know we’ll be in that area for a while, so  send there for now. Hopefully we won’t have to flee again, but I won’t be too optimistic this time. 

The world may be on fire, but so is my love for you (hahahahaha). But truly, if it weren’t for you, the apocalypse wouldn’t seem so bearable. 

Stay safe, my love. I’m coming home soon.

Forever yours,

Chan

#skz angst #stray kids angst #bang chan angst #chan angst #lee know angst #lee minho angst #minho angst #changbin angst #seo changbin angst #hyunjin angst #hwang hyunjin angst #han jisung angst #jisung angst #han angst #felix angst #lee felix angst #seungmin angst #kim seungmin angst #yang jeongin angst #jeongin angst #i.n angst #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz fluff #stray kids fluff

[larissa-the-scribe]

Hey guys! I'm trying to set up "author platform" stuff, and had a question for the general public. As readers/consumers of media, if you were to sign up for an author newsletter, what content would you most like to receive?

I am in the process of figuring this out, and while I have a few ideas I do want to know what the people think lol

Further information below the cut:

Content: short stories, art, sneak-peeks of upcoming projects, deleted scenes. Stuff in that vein. More fiction than information, etc., though probably also extra information behind the content (and there would be obvious limitations on stuff I could share--for example, I could share parts of a short story that I would plan to submit for publication, but probably not the full thing since that would make it harder to get it published).

Analysis: examining different forms of media through different lenses, to see what we can learn about how to be better writers/readers, or just for funsies (the most probable "lenses" in my case would be worldbuilding and character writing).

Behind the Scenes: this would be more of a look "behind the curtain"--how or why I made some decisions, looks at notes and concept art, "in progress" looks at writing and art, showing some of my processes, but also generally getting a look at the more personal side of things. Like pictures of my workspace, or looks into what life is like as a writer, that kind of thing. The goal would be to strike a balance between entertaining/interesting, but also hopefully informative (like if you want to write stories, maybe it gives you some ideas about how you could do notes, etc).

Reviews: Pretty straight-forward. My thoughts and opinions on what I have been reading/playing/watching/listening to, mixed with analysis. What did a think about a particular book and what did it do well and what did it do badly, and was it a good read.

Links/resources/recommendations: Articles I've read that have been helpful, books that taught me more about writing craft, different programs I use for different things, but also probably recommendations in the sense of "check out this book," or "check out this author," etc.

I was originally going to include "advice" as an option, but at this point in time I feel very underqualified for that, so if that would be something people are interested in they may have to wait a few years lol.

It is also pretty likely that there will be elements of all of them at different times, but I guess... what would you prefer to be the bulk of a newsletter you received regularly? What would best strike the balance between entertaining and informative? Or would you rather it just be one or the other? Feel free to also include your reasoning in comments or reblogs! I'd be interested to hear what all people have to say!

#writerblr #poll #author platform stuffs #scribe does something #salt and light

[bisonaari]

Käärijä fanzine update!

Alright! Thanks to your gentle lovely bullying, I've finally read most of the documentation I had and took some notes of the stuff I will need help with for the Käärijä hats fanzine. This is gonna be a lot of work to organize, so I can't do this alone!!

So I'm calling for extra hands. If you're interested in helping me, you'll need to be sure to be mostly available for the next 6 months (being a bit extra with the time, but better safe than sorry.) By that I don't mean that you need to be there everyday full time, I'm not either lol. I mean that you won't be travelling for four out of those six months or something like that hahaha.

WHAT I ALREADY HAVE

Project coordinator: Me!

Artists coordinator: Also me!

Graphic designer: My best friend @drifloonlady (she's not in the fandom, but she does design for a living and I trust her with my life. Also she knows how to speak in Käärijä-style english she's a gem. And also she hosted a weird music panel at our local con with me for the past decade she's gonna fit right in trust me)

I WILL NEED HELP WITH

(you don't have to apply for only one thing!)

Project co-coordinator: your role will be to help me deal with how to organize all of this. Discussing with me about deadlines, artist submissions, general ideas, schedules, sending emails, etc etc

Social media manager: I suck at social media, so we'll need to update people on tumblr on a regular basis, answer asks, make an faq, show previews of the zine… all of that

Native english speaker: English isn't my native language and I make mistakes by the ton. We'll need someone to english proof every "official" communication we make, especially in the zine. Having spelling errors in the final zine because I can't english would be a bit sad haha

Native finnish speaker, maybe?: If we end up printing it, giving a copy to Käärijä and/or any member of his staff who would like one would be lovely, and in this case having a message for them in finnish would be interesting, especially considering Jere's english. Unsure if we're gonna print it, but if you wanna apply just in case, feel free to!

If you apply, as I said make sure that you're gonna be mostly available in the next six months. I'd also prefer if everyone applying was an adult, I sadly don't watch my language enough to be kid-friendly if we're gonna be chatting on discord on a regular basis hahaha.

KNOW THAT THIS IS ON A VOLUNTEERING BASIS ONLY. NO ONE IS BEING PAID FOR THIS PROJECT.

HOW TO APPLY

write me a dm no need to be professional for now hahaha

WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT

All the people selected in this process will be in the following week added to a discord server, so we can chat about a lot of stuff on organization.

After everything is decided, we'll make a whole blog dedicated to the zine, and then finally open artists submissions.

I don't know when these steps are gonna be taken, hopefully sooner than me reading the documentation has taken. Now that my health is better and I can read properly without brain fog, that should help lol. Also not being alone should help a lot

If you have any question whatsoever, don't hesitate to ask me anything about this! As you guys know I'm an open book, so if you have any concern they're all welcome :)

#käärijä #käärijä fanzine #thank you for being patient with me!

[bradshawssugarbaby]

It's a Marshmallow World - Harrison Knott x Reader

A/N: My entry for @lewmagoo's Christmas Celebration, I wanted to keep it cute and fluffy and I figured since the movie is filmed in Hawaii, I'm making it that Harrison is from there too.

pairing: Harrison Knott x gn!reader

warnings/content: none, winter/Christmas-themed fluff, probably inaccuracies about Hawaii and snow (I'm Canadian but I tried researching???)

word count: 1.5k

“Ugh, I hate this song.”

You rolled your eyes as you heard the opening bars of John Lennon’s “Happy Xmas (War is Over)” playing from the wireless speaker sitting on the kitchen island. You pressed skip on your phone, shaking your head at each song after’s opening notes before finally settling on one. Harrison leaned forward on the island’s countertop and raised an eyebrow at you as he spoke.

“You’re not serious, are you? This is a classic one. Next you’re gonna tell me you hate It’s A Wonderful Life too, aren’t you?” He said teasingly, his deep blue eyes meeting yours with a questioning stare, eyebrows cocked slightly in mock disbelief.

“Of course you like It’s A Wonderful Life.” You retorted, rolling your eyes once again at your boyfriend’s taste in all things…well, old.

Harrison was an old soul when it came to just about anything relating to pop culture. He was the only person you knew who actually preferred cassette tapes and vinyl records, even CDs to streaming his music. He was one of the only people you knew who still had access to a VCR and a tape deck. He still created mixtapes over playlists and you’d almost always find him sitting on the couch watching some old movie you, and everyone else in your age group, had probably never heard of. It was part of his charm and allure for you - you loved that he was into the most niche interests, that he was always introducing you to new things, giving you a newfound appreciation for media you’d otherwise never truly encounter on your own. Before Harrison, you didn’t even know there were several channels on television dedicated to just playing classic films on a 24/7 basis, or that recording a song to a cassette tape from CD was a whole process, crafting the perfect mix was either a carefully throughout event, or a completely spontaneous act, recording whatever felt right. It was never anything inbetween - curating a collection of songs that worked together to tell a story was a work of art in itself, one that Harrison had mastered somehow. 

“Please, everyone likes It’s A Wonderful Life.” He scoffed.

“Not everyone, Harrison. Pretty sure you’re the only person under 50 who loves it.”

“Listen, it’s a great movie. We could sit and argue all day long about it, but it’s a classic for a reason, baby. Jimmy Stewart is unmatched. Meet Me in St. Louis is another great one, my mom always loves that one.” 

“I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned White Christmas yet.” 

“About that. I like it, don’t get me wrong. But I’ve never actually experienced a white Christmas, so the movie’s magic is sort of…lost on me,” Harrison frowned, shrugging his shoulders.

This was his first Christmas since moving across the US from his hometown in Hawaii to Washington, D.C. for medical school, and you knew better than anyone else that he was dying to see snow for Christmas. In fact, he was about the only person in the city who was sad when the weather forecast had predicted that Christmas morning would be uncharacteristically mild and sunny. Normally, he wouldn’t care what the weather was, but this time, being so far from home and not being able to get back for the holidays this year, he longed for the snow and winter sports he’d been promised when he had looked into the weather in D.C. before moving there. He sighed as he looked out the window each day as Christmas drew closer, with not a snowflake in sight. 

Harrison turned his attention back to washing up the dishes from tonight’s dinner. You padded along the hardwood flooring to the living room, looking out the window as you bit your lip absentmindedly, watching the sky for any sign of snowfall to appear. You furrowed your brow at the clear night sky, stars twinkling brightly as they dotted the darkness outside. You closed the curtain, smiling softly to yourself as you nodded your head once. You had an idea - a pretty farfetched one, but, one that would surely make Harrison feel a little less disappointed about not seeing his first white Christmas this year. 

You disappeared upstairs, searching the house for the tote of spare holiday decorations you had stashed away, unsure of where to place its contents earlier when you were in your decorating frenzy a few weeks ago. Rummaging through the plastic storage bin, you pulled out a large piece of white felt, intended as a base for your mom’s handmedown Christmas village that you’d set out every year as a child. She’d gifted it to you, and although you loved it, your small apartment didn’t have the space to display it. However, the extra fabric and faux snow and ice that came with it, you now knew exactly what to do with. 

Taking a pair of scissors, you began crafting and cutting the felt into snowflakes, thanking your lucky stars for your education degree and chosen career path of becoming a kindergarten teacher, allowing you to get creative at lightning speeds when required. Each piece of felt that hit the floor beneath your feet would come in handy, adding to your false winter wonderland that you were creating. After a few minutes, you’d created a few large snowflakes and a decently sized pile of scrap pieces small enough to sprinkle along the floor to mimic freshly fallen snowflakes in your living room. 

As Harrison was distracted with dishes and tidying the kitchen up, you got to work, hanging your felt snowflakes from some ribbon you’d found, leftover from Christmas wrapping, the strings dangling from the door frame, hanging down to look like falling snow. You sprinkled your pieces of felt along the floor, creating what would appear to anyone else, as a complete mess, but to you? To you, it was the white Christmas that Harrison had always hoped for, or at least, the best alternative you could create for it. 

Once satisfied with your makeshift snowfall, you set your speaker up in the living room, setting up a winter-themed playlist on your phone. You practically skipped your way out to the living room, calling Harrison’s name in a cheerful, sing-song lilt as he finished cleaning the kitchen counter.

“Harrison! Come with me for a sec, ok?”

Harrison raised an eyebrow at you, his toned biceps flexing as he folded his arms across his chest, his caramel brown sweater tightening on the curve of his muscles as he did so. Harrison reluctantly closed his eyes and took your hand, following you into the living room. As he opened his eyes, he went silent for a moment, before bursting into a laugh, shaking his head as he smiled and looked around.

“What is this?” 

“Your white Christmas that you wanted. I can’t make it snow, but I can pretend to at least, I figured it’s something better than green, muddy, mild weather outside.”

Harrison remained speechless for a minute before laughing again in disbelief.

“You’re something else, babe, but I appreciate it.”

As Harrison wrapped his arms around you tightly, he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, kissing your skin gently as he hummed softly.

“I love it, thank you.”

“I know it’s not much, but, I know how badly you wanted to have snow for Christmas too.”

Harrison continued to press his lips against your neck, leaving feather-soft,  gentle kisses to you, showering you with affection in thanks for your consideration towards his feelings. You knew a makeshift mess of felt and some kindergarten-level snowflakes weren’t going to make everything better, but, you made him smile, and that was all that mattered to you. 

As Dean Martin’s voice crooned out the beginning of It’s a Marshmallow World on your playlist, your eyes darted to the window once again. You couldn’t help but laugh half-heartedly as you shook your head, giving Harrison a playful swat on the arm to get his attention. His lips peeled away from your neck just long enough for him to gaze out the window, his eyes widening as he made his way closer to the glass to get a better view on what was happening outside. Large, white, fluffy specks were falling from the sky, beginning to coat the ground below in patches of white. 

“It’s actually snowing!” Harrison said with a childlike excitement to his voice, shaking his head as his sapphire blue eyes remained wide and full of wonder as he watched the snow falling, essentially, for the first snowfall he’d ever witnessed. 

You joined Harrison’s side at the window, unable to do anything but smile at his sheer excitement at the weather finally granting his wish two days before Christmas morning. You knew there was always the chance it could be gone and melted by tomorrow, but you didn’t want to burst Harrison’s bubble. Not tonight.

Tonight, you couldn’t help but fall in love with him even more as he watched the snow land on the ground, covering everything in a blanket of white as Dean Martin continued to sing in the background.

“In winter it’s a marshmallow world…”

#a lew magoo christmas #harrison knott imagine #harrison knott x reader #harrison knott #christmas fluff #christmas fic

[let-us-cultivate-our-garden]

So I don’t know how you feel about redemption arcs, but I was curious about your opinions on this take of it.

https://www.tumblr.com/rainydelusionpeanut/730646438655262720

Redemption arcs are like any other narrative tool; they are there to serve the character and plot and any other discussion about whether it is "deserved" or if the character properly groveled enough is more a matter of preference.

I think redemption arcs get a lot of flack because it is very easy for them to be done poorly; your villain's turn to the good side is sudden or out-of-character, the villain's crimes are never properly addressed, the hero characters just accept them no questions asked, the arc in question is too quickly paced, all of these is simply poor writing, not the trope itself.

I don't believe the person in the redemption arc needs to hate themselves and turn into a pathetic loser to signal that they are no longer a threat. And I definitely do not like the idea that they cannot receive any kindness or gentleness until after they have sufficiently begged for forgiveness. That feels more like a sick desire from the audience to watch a former villain humiliate themselves just to receive basic compassion.

The most important components to a proper redemption arc is not how "pathetic" the character is, but in the mechanics: what causes their paradigm shift? How do they respond to it? How do they reconcile the person they once were with the person they're trying to be?

Zuko is the oft-trotted out example for redemption arcs in media and for good reason. But let's look at another: Jaime Lannister (from the books, the TV show basically assassinated his character).

Jaime starts as being a highly arrogant, self-serving bastard who was willing to kill a child for stumbling upon his secrets. But he was innocent once and dreamed of being a fairy tale knight. That honor forced him to make the decision to kill the Mad King Aerys in order to save King's Landing from being burnt to the ground. But in doing so, he broke his oath as Kingsguard and is widely reviled for it. His paradigm shift is when he is kidnapped and gets his sword hand cut off, forcing him to confront the demons of his past and what his actual values and beliefs are. Throughout his redemption arc, he is beaten literally and figuratively, but he still retains his old pride and charm and he uses his infamous reputation not for his own selfish needs but to aid others. Jaime is also aware that it doesn't matter if he apologizes to those he wronged; he's not seeking forgiveness but to make right in a world filled with cruelties and atrocities. He is on his way to truly being an honorable knight, albeit in his own unconventional way. It should be noted that since the books aren't complete, Jaime's arc isn't either, and he's still effectively on Team Lannister, but now he's trying to be a better person.

Story arcs like Jaime Lannister's demonstrate how complex a redemption arc can be; he never begs for forgiveness because he knows it won't be accepted, he uses his status to achieve his goals all while trying to adhere to a moral code, he's still on the same side that devastated the kingdom, (and this is A Song of Ice and Fire, hardly anyone's hands are clean) but he keeps his men in line from committing further atrocities.

Ultimately, I think redemption arcs should be about the process of bettering yourself, not the end goal. Good redemption arcs show that people are a mix of good and evil and that it's always possible to change if you're willing to put in the work.

But, and this is key, it shouldn't be about being a Good Person, but about improvement. There are no "good" or "bad" people, just people that made choices.

#asks #tropes #redemption arc #redemption arcs #jaime lannister #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones

[citizen-zero]

“I only watch cartoons and read YA because it’s more diverse. adult media is only about straight people having affairs and getting divorced and—”

okay or maybe you’re just scared of facing the reality that you’re getting further and further away from your teen years. maybe you’re afraid that people are going to judge you for your taste when the reality is that very few people actually care enough to give you shit about it (and the ones that do give you shit aren’t people whose opinions matter). maybe you spent too much time on the internet sneering at people over 25 as being old bags who need to get out of fan spaces and go take care of their kids and do their taxes, so now that you’re approaching 25 you’re scared.

so instead of being a normal person and either owning and embracing the fact that you prefer kids’ media (while admitting that adult media has value and appeal), or going to friendly people who are older than you for advice, you come up with silly bullshit justifications using progressive sounding language so you can obfuscate the fact that you’re not coping well with the natural passage of time. Is it really about YA being more progressive, or is it about the fact that you’ve internalized the lie that life is over after your mid 20s?

Or maybe you spent your youth being praised as the smart book nerd kid and now that you’ve burned out you struggle to read/watch anything more complicated than children’s media. but you’re afraid of admitting to it because you’ve been made to fear failure and being seen as stupid, so the idea that you could read a book slowly or even leave a book unfinished if you weren’t enjoying it is heresy to you. You’d have to give back your Book Lover card and your “if they don’t have books don’t fuck them” tote bag. So you take the sour grapes approach and decide to write off the vast majority of literature as being problematic, because then that way you can bury your head in the sand and pretend you’re better than people who prefer to read about people their own age.

And like, I know I’m being kinda harsh here, but it’s not anything to be ashamed of if you prefer simpler and easier to understand narratives, or if you’re having a hard time processing the struggles of growing up. I just find it hard to respect you if instead of admitting to that, you try to turn your taste in fiction into a moral/political statement.

#personal #erika's blog and bar

[kolbisneat]

MONTHLY MEDIA: February 2024

A real grey month broken up by the colours and beauty of art. Here's how I spent the month of February.

……….FILM……….

The Beekeeper (2024) Perfect February movie.

……….TELEVISION……….

Succession (Episode 1.01 to 2.04) Wasn't sure I was going to like this (every single character is just awful) but now I'm keen to see how these awful people are increasingly awful to each other. So far I'm really appreciating every shot that shows the staff and just the sheer number of people responsible for making the lives of these awful people as low-friction as possible. We 100% need to tax the rich more.

Delicious In Dungeon (Episode 1.05 to 1.08) Now having seen more episodes, the shifting animation styles feels more consistent overall and I love the frenetic style during the high-stress/combat scenes. If you like this show then know it's a near 1:1 with the manga but still worth reading.

……….YOUTUBE……….

Pinocchio is a Story About Art and God by Jacob Geller This opened me up to a wholly new interpretation of what the story of Pinocchio is about. Also go watch the Del Toro adaptation on Netflix it's truly a work of art. VIDEO

Vape-o-nomics: Why Everything is Addictive Now by Tom Nicholas In short: everything is a subscription now and it's making everything worse. Worth the watch and looking forward to further installments in this series. VIDEO

This Experiment Undid Our Cities. How Do We Fix It? by Strong Towns Push back against any local government that doesn't want to introduce mixed use zoning into neighborhoods. The suburbs are subsidized by density, it's as simple as that. VIDEO

……….READING……….

How To Watch Football: 52 Rules for Understanding the Beautiful Game, On and Off the Pitch by Tifo (Complete) So I actually read this over the course of a month or two. I'd read a rule or two, process, then read a couple more a day or two later. I don't even really watch football but this helped so much and now I expect I'll crush the fantasy premier league I'm in.

The Big Four by Agatha Christie (Complete) Only my second Christie novel and this felt SO different. Turns out that's because it really is an outlier amongst her other works. So that was reassuring. Not terrible but I wouldn't exactly recommend it as it felt thoroughly disjointed (a result of stitching together a series of unrelated short stories).

The Last Continent by Terry Pratchett (Complete) Hey I love the Discworld series. You know this. I know this. But there's always gotta be an entry that goes on the bottom of any list. I love Rincewind, but prefer the other wizards in a less prominent role. Not one I'd recommend when trying to get into the series and probably not one I'll revisit. Oh well.

Catwoman: Lonely City by Cliff Chiang (Complete) Big fan of Chiang's artistry on Paper Girls and really enjoyed this interpretation of an aging Gotham. It has such a clear and singular voice it covers so much in just four chapters! Really great read.

Silver Surfer: Black by Donny Cates, Tradd Moore, and Dave Stewart (Complete) Every time I read this I love it more and more. It's truly what I pictured comics to be when I was a kid: vibrant, dramatic, and a little bonkers. Why does the villain ride a dragon? WHO CARES it looks cool. I love it all.

Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 4 by Ryoko Kui (Complete) Watching the series and rereading the manga is really making for a great experience. This volume really highlighted that Senshi isn't a man with all the answers. In the upper levels of the dungeon, he's competent, but as they go deeper and face more dangerous monsters, the rest of the party take more of the lead. It's so good. This series is so good.

……….AUDIO……….

Wolves of Glendale by Wolves of Glendale (2024) Comedy music is always tricky but for me, the comedy is second. If I don't enjoy the music having no understanding of the lyrics then I probably won't stick with it. Some tracks strike this balance better than others but I found The Gym to be a good introductory track.

……….GAMING……….

Disco Elysium (ZA/UM) On one hand, I tend to prefer more...active games. Something that requires hitting buttons at the right time. On the other hand, I'm really digging the mystery and complexity of the game. It really feels like I can play this detective however I want without being forced to follow any one playstyle. Not sure how far into it I am but I read the review that it's less a detective game and more a game about being a detective and that really feels right. But I do have to say that it's...rather buggy on the Switch so that might not be the recommended way to play it.

Neverland: A Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) The Tuesday crew is working towards ridding the island of a competing group of adventurers. Hook wants them gone, the Gnomes want them gone, heck even the Moss Mother wants them gone. But will they be able to do it? And the more lengthy recap is over here.

Oz: A Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) The Mof1 D&D crew found a (literal) underground magic item shop so did a bunch of shopping after their big funeral heist. Everyone loves a good shopping session!

And that's it. See you in March!

#Monthly Media #Kolbisneat #Andrew Kolb