#now we know for sure this was deliberate on the creative side of things

[twelvedaysinaugust]

I’m one of your anons and I think we both agreed on many points about HL stance. I want to ask because somehow I couldn’t find the correct tags for this - but why do you think Louis’ career is somehow delayed? Some rads blamed it hard to harry and his companionship, and some larries took it blindly as a sacrifice for harry’s, but both sides are too extreme, I would like to know where do you stand on this. Thank you :)

I think a lot of the “weirdness” and “delay” around Louis’ career is due to two things. Firstly, personal and family stuff that was going on at the time, some of which we know about in retrospect but I’m sure there’s a lot to which we are oblivious. I don’t think we even know about 0.1% of what that man deals with on a daily basis. He has my respect.

Secondly, reading between the lines, I think it’s probably true that Louis felt dissatisfied or held back by Syco. He presumably parted ways with them for a reason, after all. However, I don’t think it was part of some grand scheme to make Harry successful at Louis’ expense. I think it’s just the way the industry operates, unfortunately. Labels don’t invest equally in all their artists and they often have very rigid ideas about what will be commercially viable. (This is why I think “Perfect Now” was included on Walls. Louis says he’s not a fan of that track anymore, but during promo he said it was deliberately written to be a fan favorite. So, that’s the kind of thing I’m talking about when I say labels can exert a lot of control over the creative process. And also… it’s a classic case of misreading the room and the dynamics of Louis’ fanbase.)

#and to my first point #goodness gracious #Louis had just lost his mom #and was also caring for a sister who was experiencing very serious mental health issues #the fact that some people still think Louis should have been churning out an album in the midst of that is just…

[henrysglock]

At this point I wouldn't be surprised if they suddenly included a teenage Murray in the play despite him not even living in Hawkins. I get that they struggle with age accuracy of several characters but they change a bit too much in my opinion. Plus the character names. Like is Bob's father now a priester or principal??? And who is the priester then??? I'm so sad I won't be able to see the play so I really hope they'll put in on netflix in summer 2024 or something but it's already soo confusing

You see, Nonnie, I personally don't think they struggle with ages at all. I'm the type of person who's more inclined to consider that they're deliberately fucking with us.

To answer your question: I'm not sure who the priest is going to be, since priests aren't meant to have secular jobs (like being a principal)...but I won't lie and say I'm not tickled about how this contradicts the one (1) Collider article that drops even the slightest hint at a Patty/"George" one-sided romance. They list her as being the preacher's daughter:

and with that key bit of her character description thrown into question...well. Y'know. I don't think I need to point out how unreliable this makes everything else sound.

Anyway, I'm hoping you'll get to see it at some point, Nonnie!

And this is nothing against you, personally, but I struggle to understand how people don't see how reminiscent this all is of a NINA simulation.

Complaining and making my case below the cut.

Bob shouldn't be hanging around Jopper, they weren't friends in high school. They knew of each other, and Jim bullied Bob. Karen and Henry should be around the same age as Alice, which is to say: children. Alice is at least close to filmed canon, even if you think shes younger than Henry. They should at least have cast them similarly with actors, but they didn't. They do all this swapping: Priest to Principal, Allen to Alan, Henry (12) to Henry (14-15) while all the other actors are close enough to be passable if you don't look too hard.

This is all reminiscent of NINA and the constant swapping behavior. Like I'm just going to tap these few signs.

I mean honestly, this alone should be enough to put NINA on our radars:

Everyone but El is the right age, and she's aged up visibly.

They also swap on whether Henry's hair is a natural side part or not:

They swap on which way Brenner's tie is done:

They swap on prop orientation, corpse posing, or blood patterns:

All this changing around with an end result of no one (who cares enough to look) being able to say concretely which version is real.

I feel like this should ring warning bells:

Even if we want to discredit the papers and put Alice as Henry's younger sister, she's still cast as the right age in TFS. Visibly so. Henry is visibly aged up.

The only place we've ever seen this happen is in NINA, which is conveniently the time when El's memories are being altered as they're fed back to her.

So unless this is some secret third thing where Henry (12) went back in time to try and fix things but he continues to age normally/he's now 14-15 when he ought to be 12 (which isn't an option I'm against, I actually think it would be fun)...we're just not given another viable explanation in filmed canon.

So yeah, Nonnie...who's the priest and who's the principal? Is he Alan or Allen? Is it Henry or Vecna or One? Henry/Vecna/One? Allen/Alan/Al? What's the truth? What are we settling on?

But my main gripe is about the attitude, and again it's not about you personally, Nonnie, but:

Is it so hard for the fandom to go "Hey, maybe all these discrepancies in TFS are there for a reason, not just because the writers are dumbfucks who don't know their own story...despite having written it in tandem with ST4"?

Especially given that Kate Trefry wrote the NINA project? Not Matt, not Ross. Kate.

Why is everyone so against it being purposeful? Where's the fandom's sense of joy and whimsy? Is no one else willing to have fun and be creative about it? Must it always be a derisive little "uhuhu dumbfuck writers silly writers look how stupid and messy they are, retconning the canon THAT THEY WROTE SIMULTANEOUSLY" thing?

Idk. Just rubs me wrong. We'll see soon enough, though.

#asks #st tfs

[artfightdramaconfessions]

So, this year I did my first Art Fight; I had joined in 2021 but kept myself as a spectator to observe it and see what the rules would be like, how things are done, the general etiquette of it - and I think, being involved in the fight is very different from watching it.. Wholesome, sweet and kind on the outside; very distant, lazy and disorganized on the inside.

Personally, however, I had a wonderful time! I think I pumped out loads of art and I am proud of what I did for others; high-quality, fully-rendered, respect being given to character features and everything being on-model. I drew exactly 80 pieces, majority of them being waist or fullbody, and only about 5 simple-shaped characters and 3 mass attacks. It was heartwarming to see much of it later being posted on Toyhouses, in the character's reference pages, and elsewhere. All around, I was satisfied in what I was able to provide and enjoyed drawing characters I wouldn't personally design, like drawing really cute girls and ferals when I usually lean to monsters and men! I found unique designs, novices and beginners, all sorts.

And while I got a quarter of defenses in return which I absolutely cherish and some sweet comments on a majority of my pieces, I saw how others have complained about not being given responses for work that they've poured hours into... That made me wonder if that's just.. Generally the mentality of artists now; either too introverted to show appreciation to fellow artists in spite of us collectively knowing how challenging it can be to make art, or just joining to farm and then acting too tired or busy to actually participate. - And then the other half almost kill themselves and psychologically drain themselves in the parasocial cycle that Art Fight has to offer in its "trading environment". Sure I could be classified in the latter group too, but I still practiced self-care and got shit done compared to the burnout horror stories I see. It's quite a wild contrast to observe, and leads to psychological turmoil on both sides when one only gives and the other only takes.

There's also the case of people joining the fight and not contributing at all; just picking a side, dropping some characters, (sometimes a broken promise) and then disappearing. I do not want to hear the "they have real lives off the internet, they were busy" excuse, either - I too have a life: I am a teacher during the week /and/ I have a weekend job. When it is summer holidays for the Northerners, I am down in the Southern hemisphere, dealing with the winter, working and freezing my hands up to the point I don't want to create art sometimes when I get home - but I was still perfectly diligent and on top of things.. But hey, maybe I'm built different, and some people are simply just lazy and want rewards without the effort, or quickly assume they deserve more than what they should.

On the bright side, I'm glad I didn't deal with anyone hostile or disrespectful, and I only encountered two genuine art farmers who pretended they didn't know how to draw or "weren't skilled". Always the same excuses, at some point we have to stop giving them the benefit of the doubt so often; As gatekeepy as it is, I'd imagine a game for artists should be reserved for artists, it's not like an unfit marine biologist would want to participate in the Olympics, let alone be allowed to, so why should people who otherwise hate drawing or don't want to learn the skill and deliberately say such things want to join? In a sense it feels like a mockery towards art and the exchange of creativity in general, and I've been on porn sites that check the quality of your art before they post it better than this! There should be at least an entry requirement for signing up for Art Fight where you send in an artwork before the mods verify your account; there would be a fuckload less farmers, for certain.

I'm hoping that maybe, just because it was my first Art Fight, that /maybe/ this high-attack low-defense ratio of mine is to be expected, and if I just manage to spread my art to even further crowds and find new people to attack, I'll find others who will like my designs and be eager to draw them with the same level of eagerness I had to draw theirs. All that matters to me is if I find people who /want/ to draw my characters, not feel obliged to, in the same way I was never obliged to draw that pink, ridiculously-well-endowed Succubus or stocky, angry little Pokemon - but I did it anyway! I simply enjoyed the spontaneity and diversity of character design and unfamiliar fandoms. In the end, after all I've said, it doesn't matter how much art you get in return, it's about how proud you feel about what you contributed to the fight, and what you learned and discovered in the fun little world of character design.

I don't feel discouraged to draw less next year, I'm going to simply relent, but I can see why other artists hang their heads after their first time when they encounter hostility, are ignored, or don't get what they want out of it.

I think these are some things that I would want to improve if I could:

The ratio should calculate points, that will really incentivize people into prioritizing quality over quantity with their attacks. If you want to see how many attacks VS defenses someone has, just go and check on their front page (if you want it to specifically see how many attacks and defenses they had in one year specifically, they should add a sorting filter for that). The only "downside" I can imagine is an increase in mass-attacks, a joy for some but not for others.

After July, I think that we should still be able to submit Revenge-Only attacks during August - and to not have revenge chains be exploited, only be able to post a revenge once on a Level 1.. Level. I see a lot of people seeming guilty for not being able to attack back within the month or being a minute too late to submit a revenge, and then also just being too shy to submit the attack off-site / not being able to do it offsite / not thinking it's worth it without getting points / etc. - and easy resolve would be to allow revenges to still be posted during August, and Moderators can calculate the event scores and winners in September; trying to cram all of the admin into 12 days is insanity and I am speaking from a perspective that deals with a painful amount of admin. Also, get a fucking search bar that's accessible for everyone, holy Hell.

I'm.. Not sure if my tangent was in good spirits or not, it's rather just thoughts that have been rolling around in my head while I've been reflecting on my experience. Hope everyone else had a good Art Fight and reached their goals, or met and made some friends through it. :)

.

#art fight #artfight #artfight2023 #submission

[valeskakingdom]

What do you have to lose except your sanity? (part45)

"You know, doll," Jerome panted when he was carrying the unconscious Scarlet in his little hidden track "That reminds me of the time we tried to escape Arkham" He snickered "You got shot in the stomach and I carried you to your way out. Just now, it's a little different, in Arkham you were able to talk to me, but now you're like a corpse"

He laid her on a table and stared at her wound for a while, deliberating how to stop the bleeding and how to recover her. He had no clue about medical treatments or how to revive someone if needed. All he had was an old little medical kit he found there and a device that reminded him of something you used for electroshock therapy. Could he revive her with electroshocks? He could try it at least. But will she be the same? According to all their experiences in Arkham, he knew people could change through it. He didn't want to risk a thing. Scarlet could just change in the wrong way. Imagine, she's a polite, shy, and decent girl - that's horrible! What if her affection for Jerome stopped instantly? What if she called him a monster? A murder? How would Jerome ever plan some brutal murders with her? She would lose all her cleverness, her creativity, and her perfectionism. She would lose everything Jerome appreciated about her! She would become worthless, scum like Oswald. Jerome couldn't bare it. He needed his Scarlet! What should he do without his precious doll? He would have no one to share all the fun with! He would have lost the person that always stayed by his side! That was unacceptable.

"Hmm," Jerome hummed when he touched the wound, seeing that blood was dripping down her clothes "Wow, Andy was no bad gunman. He shot right through your stomach. That's gonna be a hard one as I'm no doctor. But," Jerome grabbed the medical kit and placed it right next to her to open it "I'ma solve your little problem, no worries. I'ma be gentle"

From the medical kit, he grabbed a scalpel and cut the wound wider to have more access to the bullet that was stuck in her stomach. The blood was formally floating down her stomach like a waterfall. The table and the ground were slowly covered in blood  - probably because Jerome cut through a vein. He didn't know it! He had no clue about the human body, he didn't know where to cut best!

"Oh!" Jerome gulped, grabbing some pledget and pressing them against the wound "That was not planned," His eyes widened when he noticed the blood was slightly dripping through the pledges. Blood was everywhere now, it was like Scarlet was taking a bath in it "Hell, doll, you're killing me, you're bleeding out like a slaughtered pig. That's...that's strangely satisfying to see this, you know, you would love that, too, I'm sure about that"

"Damn," He then put the pledget aside when he saw the bleeding somewhat stop and took a pair of little tweezers from the kit to pull the bullet out of her body "That's harder than I expected, I didn't know a little bullet could cause that many problems," He podded with the tweezers in Scarlet's stomach, it was like the bullet was nowhere to be found "Where's that fucking thing? It can't be solubilized, can it?" He kept searching for the bullet until he felt some renitency "Got it!"

Now he stared at the with a blood-covered bullet. It was so pretty, it was shining more than all the stars in the darkness. He was so fascinated by this little thing. It was so small but it could ruin human lives. It could damage muscles, tendons, and ligaments. It damages organs, and it even ends lives! That was so wonderful, Jerome thought, so many lives have ended thanks to little bullets like these, and so many people have suffered - he would enjoy the moment more if this bullet's victim wasn't his doll, though.

"Oh," Jerome immediately pressed another pledget against the wound "We don't want you to bleed out, right? Hehe, this would be a little too tragic for my taste. Now let's see with what I can stitch the wound" He looked again into the medical kit. He saw some plasters, some bandages, the tweezers, a little scissors, some more plasters - and there were needles and thread!

"You know, doll," Jerome tried to pull the thread through the needle's hole "I have no real experience with this. We didn't have something like a TV in the circus, just a silly radio in every trailer to be up to date. I never had the chance to watch all the doctor sitcoms and see their little tricks with their tools so," He sighed " Don't be mad about the ugly scar"

And so he started to stitch the wound, humming his favorite song. You could already think that: it was a bloody mess. He tried to stitch the hole in Scarlet's colon, tried to stitch skin to skin, but he failed. He either formed a knot with the threads or stitched over the actual spot, sometimes even he sutured the colon with her skin, with other organs, or with the colon itself! Her stomach looked like a total mess. He didn't even stitch it right, he thought stitching a wound was like sewing costumes, he just needed to put all layers together to get a good result - it was not true. There was a lot more behind that like sanitizing, aseptic instruments, several devices, and the knowledge - but Jerome didn't care. He just wanted to leave it all behind him and bring his doll back to life.

"Done," Jerome let out a relieved sigh "Not that bad actually, it looks...uhm...like a...uh...a J! Like a crippled J, yes," Jerome snickered "It looks quite good on your doll. I should have marked you much earlier" He then turned around, looking for some certain device "Now, how can I bring you back to life?"

He walked around his hidden track, from one side to another, in every corner and every room. He looked on every shelf, in every room - until he finally found this certain device. As said, he didn't know the device's name, but he knew it was used for electroshock therapy - and maybe this could bring Scarlet back to life.

He carried this heavy device to the table where Scarlet was laying. He put the electrodes on her head right and tied her arms and legs up so that she wouldn't fall on the ground when being electroshocked.

"So my love," Jerome snickered "Time for you to come back to me" And so he turned this certain device on.

Scarlet's body was shaking, her muscles were twitching and the table was shaking, as well. Seeing this scenario fascinated Jerome a lot. He had this certain power over her as if she was just a toy. To see her muscles twitching uncontrollably was so wonderful - and to his luck, Scarlet couldn't say anything against this, he cast a spell over her. He could shock her as many times as he wanted. She wouldn't say a thing, she would let him do it. For Jerome, it was like a dream come true! Finally, he would have control over a certain person without them nagging, babbling, insulting him, or else. He could do whatever he wanted! No one would tell him what to do or what was wrong and what was right.

Jerome tried this certain form of electroshock therapy several times - Scarlet wouldn't wake up. He increased the electroshock's power even, though the device was vibrating so much that he was even afraid it would be damaged. But sooner or later, Jerome turned the device off. He gave up on trying to revive his doll. Nothing worked. He lost his doll thanks to an idiot. That was impossible! He wouldn't lose Scarlet because of just a little bullet, would he? Scarlet wouldn't do this to him! She promised to stay with him! How could she do this to him?! - this was the moment when Jerome started to freak out. He could bare that Scarlet was dead. He couldn't bare that fate decided to take her life when he was practically reborn - and now he couldn't bring her back! It was similar to the story of Romeo and Juliet: Jerome died in front of Scarlet, was revived for some odd reason, and when they were just about to be reunited, Scarlet died a stupid death. Jerome hated it. He hated that stupid stories like these would become true once and nothing could have changed. It was ridiculous!

"Hmm," You suddenly heard from that corpse that was laying on the table. Jerome was surprised. Did his therapy work? Did he revive her? Or was it just the last breath shortly before the outcome? He wasn't sure, so he took a look at her. Her fingers started to move as if they were like vegetables that were about to defrost - so his attempts had to work!

"I knew you wouldn't leave me, doll," Jerome grinned, leaning his face close to her now cupped face "Now open your little pretty eyes for me" He was excited his little plan worked. He wouldn't have expected that after his several failed attempts.

And she did - but something was different.

She looked shocked, she seemed to panic when she saw Jerome's scarred, stapled, and distorted face right in front of her. This didn't look human to her. This was monstrous! He looked so gross, so inhuman. Was he even a real human? Or was it just a dream? Or was Scarlet delusional? Was it just her senses' trick? Who was this guy even? What did he want from her? Why was he staring at her?

"What's up, sweet cheeks?" Jerome gave her a questioning look "Something's wrong with my face?"

"Who, who are you? A-and where, where am I? I-I... Who-what has happened?" Scarlet wouldn't stop looking at him shocked, fearing, and panicking. In this formal trance, she was in, she tried to tear her arms up to push him away from her - but she couldn't. Her hands and even legs were tied up that she couldn't move away from the table - and this made her think she was in danger.

"It's me! Jerome! We’re here in my little hidden track" He frowned at her in confusion, what was wrong with her? She's never been so anxious before. Was the electroshock's aftermath? Was it what Scarlet had always talked about? The personality change like with Andy and Oswald? But memory loss? She never mentioned a word of it, didn't she? No, this couldn't be real, could it? "I rescued you from the dead, your little friend Andy was a good gunman. He shot you pretty bad in your stomach but God bless me, I fixed it" Jerome snickered "You seem a little fuzzy through all these electroshocks, huh? I know that feeling. My head was formally spinning after Dwight revived me. That will disappear soon enough, doll"

"U-untie me, p-please..." Scarlet stammered in a whisper, she was so scared of Jerome, you could tell. He was intimidating her with his look and his behavior. It was so crazy, so scary, it already showed her he wanted nothing good "The uhm...ties h-hurt my wrists a-and uhm... I can’t feel m-my legs..."

"Hmm," Jerome pretended to think "No. Your behavior seems a little strange to me, you know," he claimed on the table and hovered right above her body "I've heard electroshocks can make you fuzzy and change you - but that they would change you that much? It's almost incredible. You're the complete opposite of yourself! You've been so brutal, violent, and bloodthirsty, we used to have so much fun out there with killing, taking people hostage, and spreading chaos over Gotham. We were the Queen and King of the Underworld - and now you're just a pitiful little shy girl that's scared for her life when seeing me"

"M-me?" Scarlet looked completely shocked by what she has heard from him "I-I killed people? That's, that's not possible, I-I could never do such a-a cruel crime" She wanted to cry. This had to be lies! She would never kill someone! She wasn't capable of doing it! She could never hurt someone! She was the friendliest person in town! She had no reason to hurt someone at all!

"Oh it is possible, my love," Jerome chuckled, grabbing her chin softly and eyeing her deeply "You're not just any killer, you're a real bad bitch. Citizens used to call you Gotham's Grim Reaper. Whenever you walked across the streets, people died. It started with your parents, your dad's coworkers, your brother, his silly girlfriend, up to Theo Gallavan, and your little hookup Andy - you killed them all, it was all in the news! You-..."

"Oh my God..." Hearing this made her cry at least. She and a murderer? How was that possible? And why couldn't she remember it all? "I'm a monster... I killed my parents...and my brother... Please don't tell me it's true..."

"Shhh," Jerome shushed her, wiping her tears from her cheeks "Don't be sad about it, they deserved to die. They were the reasons for all your breakdowns, your depression, and your crying overnights. Think about it, you're free now! You can do whatever you want in this world! You can let all your pain and sorrow out on people,” Jerome cupped her face again “And I will help you with it”

“N-no,” Scarlet shook her head, whispering “I need to go to the police to report myself. I need to stand up for all these cruel things. I-...” She couldn't even speak out her sentence when Jerome violently slapped her across the face. She was shocked, it made her speechless. She couldn't even look at him so scared she was of him now. Slapping was just the beginning, she thought, what would he do next?

“You won't do anything without my permission!” Jerome couldn't hear it anymore. This wasn't Scarlet who spoke to him, this was another person. This person wasn't evil, they had no passion for murder and death, they lost this sparkling in their eyes when they looked at Jerome. There was fear because she thought Jerome would start torturing her to death. Her eyes just expressed she didn't want to be with him, that she wanted to run away “Do you think I'll let you go? HAHA, I won't. You're stuck in here with me until you become my old precious little doll that you've been before - and I'll do anything to achieve that”

#jerome valeska #gotham #dc #dcmultiverse #jerome valeska x reader #dc villains #dc villian #gotham city #gotham fandom #gotham jerome valeska #gotham jerome #gotham series #gotham fanfic #jerome valeska fandom #jerome valeska x you #cameron monaghan x reader #gotham x reader #jerome x reader #dc universe #cameronmonaghan

[lydia-too-late]

GET TO KNOW THE AUTHOR

name: I go by some variety of "Lydia" in most online spaces, but my actual name is Michelle. Nice to meet you!

pronouns: she/her

preference  of  communication: Any, really. I'm fairly (read: brand) new to the RP side of Tumblr, and current-era Tumblr in general, so I'm still figuring out how business is conducted. Messages, email, discord. I'm around and happy to chatter.

name  of  most  active muse(s): Tula, for sure. She's been the framework around which I'm learning VtM, and I love it. She's also the one who's been the slowest and most deliberately developed, and I think it's paid off well. I have another, Grace Letts, who's lingering around, having made the jump from another story concept to WoD, but she's probably a Mage (!!!), and it's gonna be a minute before I'm ready for MtA. 

experience/how  long  (months/years?): The is the part where you realize that I'm rather old. 😂 (If the millennial emoji usage doesn't give it away first.) I first discovered RP on AOL in the late 90s. That's also where I first learned about VtM, but really just the general lore (Ventrue are business! Toreador are art sluts! Sabbat are the bad guys!). I've taken long stretches of time away, often years, but it's an itch I always return to. I usually lean more toward the writing/story side of things, but I'm down to try almost anything.

platforms  you’ve  used: Mostly play-by-post writing sites. Discord.

best  experience:  Teaming up with @silkenred! They are the creative partner I've been looking for since the day I started this journey. Working together on our story has renewed my interest in writing, roleplaying, and everything WoD. They are one of my favorite people on the planet. Fun Fact: When I met them, they were writing a series of haunted infomercials for a Twin Peaks-inspired group RP, and I thought it was the coolest thing I'd ever read. 😂

rp  pet  peeves  /  dealbreakers: Writing with partners who treat my character like their narrative sidekick. No. I'm not interested in playing plot support to your superstar. (Unless it's a really specific, well-communicated situation.) In a partnership our characters carry equal importance: I'll make yours look good, but I expect the same consideration in return.

fluff,  angst,  or  smut: All of the above? All at once? 😳 In all seriousness: I love some angst, with fluff to keep it from being a complete slog, and smut can be delightful if done right, but it isn't essential. 

plots  or  memes: I'm not really sure what this means exactly, in an rp context as either/or, but I'm pro-plots and pro-memes!

long  or  short  replies: My major project right now is a co-authored story, and the replies we send each other are generally between 750-1500 words. (In the past 15 months, we've written just over 100k words together! And guys, silkenred writes GOOD words.) But I think there's a lot of fun and merit in shorter, more casual formats as well.

best  time  to  write: Morning! Like, 7am-9am or so. It's generally a quiet time in my household, and easier to focus before the rest of the day smashes through.

are  you  like  your  muse(s): There are definitely elements of Tula, mostly emotional, that I've pulled from my own experiences, or things I've observed in those around me. Grace, the aforementioned eventual-mage, probably has life experiences that more specifically line up (thematically, at least) with my life. She's younger, though, and dresses better, and she's more likely to punch someone. She also sees ghosts.

tagged by: stolen from @gorbalsvampire (thank you!)  tagging: @silkenred, along with anyone who reads this and would like to partake!

#personal #tula #silk #writing #wod

[tamelee]

Hello! I hope you’re an amazing day :)

I want to ask if you know any good metas/analysis about Kakashi out there? Or perhaps have you written posts about him? So far I’ve only read one that were very… ooc to say the least. They were less analysis than they were fan-pages where fans praise Kakashi for every single thing he does and completely ignore the times he might’ve not been the best person in the world. They agree with every little thing he does even when he contradicts himself, and then act like they love Kakashi for his flaws (even if they apparently don’t think he has any) and use the joker card "he’s traumatized" to justify his actions. And I understand why him being traumatized would impact the way he acts, of course… but still, it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t criticize his behavior when necessary

If you have good reads about him I would be very thankful if you could respond, because right now I haven’t found anything very interesting yet 😅

Also I wanted to say that I really like your drawings, you’re so talented and creative

Hello~! 💕 I have, hope you do too! Thankyou for liking my art *-*!

Kakashi analyses? Hm, I don’t immediately remember any but I stopped reading them a while ago for the reasons you state, but also because of the complete opposite where the only focus is on criticism and nothing else, so I can't help you with that. I rarely talk about him. I like Kakashi a lot but whenever I do say anything, regardless of it being positive, there’s always either a cowardly anti or fan indirectly responding to it and making their own posts starting with some sort of “omg I can’t believe people think Kakashi-!!!!” or “I can’t believe people don’t see that Kakashi is-!!!!” And then proceed to cherrypick moments while failing to understand the context of the original question I responded to in the first place. Moments that I already acknowledged but won’t (dis)prove the conclusion by itself. Meh, it's not worth it. It’s like the entire point flew over their heads and I’m not even sure whether it’s deliberate or not. Kinda like grabbing a blob of butter and smacking some flour on the side claiming that it’s a cookie now. Like, what are you saying? 🙄 Okay, okay, petty rant over. 

“- then act like they love Kakashi for his flaws (even if they apparently don’t think he has any) and use the joker card "he’s traumatized" to justify his actions. And I understand why him being traumatized would impact the way he acts, of course… but still, it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t criticize his behavior when necessary.”

I mean....... 👀😬😬... I think it goes both ways though because this is very much a fandom thing and uh.. certainly not only Kakashi’s 💀 

Let's not think too long about it xD Just saying that the Naruto-fandom in general is very weird about which character is ‘allowed’ to do what in regard to a trauma response or what coping mechanism is okay, if it's even recognized as such. Yeah characters having flaws are so crucial. I don't see why it's always seen as criticism or something negative when you point something out. I could write entire essays on Naruto's flaws which.. despite them usually being limitations or something to overcome, in the end these traits were proven very necessary. For example his arrogance is seen as a flaw, both in the fandom and in the story. He even got lectured about it by Itachi. Being arrogant and not engaging with teamwork ('relying on comrades') by default is a character flaw for stories like these especially for a main character, but it's not like you can blame Naruto for being forced to only rely on himself while growing up. It's not his fault for being abandoned. He copes by believing in himself ("believe it!") and his own efforts because that's the only thing he could somewhat control thinking he'd succeed if only he works himself to the bone and finally gain some acknowledgement like a human being. Although he'd learn quickly that it's very conditional. In that sense, yes, his flaw is justified through trauma. Aaaand, it has purpose. It's not a bad thing. It’s depth and complexity that help make a character interesting and flaws can make them more relatable to the audience if done well. Without flaw there is no conflict and thus, no story. It’s otherwise nothing more than a powerpoint where a meaningless sequence of events is presented, but it won’t make you feel anything. You’re not engaged because you don’t care about what happens next. Nothing is solved because it wouldn’t be necessary and the author has nothing to tell nor would it be convincing if they had. Had Kakashi been flawless I wouldn’t even have liked him because these Mary Sue characters are boring as hell. Of course, it depends on context.. is it relevant to the story? Is it necessary to play their role? Does it have any impact? Is it consistent? How does it contribute? etc- I especially appreciate Kakashi from a storytelling perspective but I understand that not everyone wants to shove it all under that category. But answer questions like that and you can figure out whether something is worth exploring to see if it's a valid point of critique.

#asktamelee #naruto fandom #kakashi talk #naruto talk

[thechroniclesofnikevictoria]

Present. Chapter 4 - Mid June 2021

“If I have to stop, you have to tell me now. Because if you let me continue this, Winged Victory, not even your Kamui could hold me back until I triumphed with you”

(TW: NSFW, smut, OC, CamusxOC, reference to MiloxCamus, HET couple, reference to HOMO couple, D/s, Dom!Camus, Diamond Dust with creative uses)

Nike’s surprise was even bigger when, a few days later, instead of Milo, she found herself in bed with Camus.

He went to pay her a visit, a habit he got after coming back to life, after finishing a new philosophy book. His mother, a professor at Sorbonne, would always recommend him the best ones, and he would always find them in Dégel’s library. Among the Gold Knights, he was by far the most intellectual one, in the western meaning of the term.

Nike, together with Saori, was the only inhabitant of the Sanctuary who had a normal life and education before her Cosmo awakening. She really enjoyed those conversations.

“Can I come in?” he asked on the side door. He always used that entrance when he came to visit her, to avoid having to go through the main Temple. Theoretically, to enter the thirteenth house, all the knights were obliged to wear their armor, in case Athena crossed their path. But Nike had removed that rule when people came to visit her informally. Especially considering Saori was rarely even there.

“Otherwise I would need to keep my Kamui on all the time” was her official justification.

“Hey Cam! Sure, come in! Are you hungry?”

“Comme toujours!” he exclaimed going in and sitting down at his usual place at her table.

“DeathMask just came back from his town in the middle of nowhere Sicily and brought back a ton of amazing things. You choose: sfincione or arancini?”

“Why do you say or?”

They both laughed out loud. One of the few perks of being Knights was that their Cosmo, together with the massive training they underwent for years, would burn everything.

“So what’s new this time? What did you just finish reading?” she asked while they were eating.

“I finally made it to the end of the Symposium”

“Ah yes I remember that. My philosophy teacher had me read it in grade eleven” she exclaimed, immediately regretting her words. Camus and the others had been stolen from their family when they were children to be trained. He couldn’t finish elementary school. Let alone high school.

“I’m sorry...”

“No worries. Anyways, I found it quite interesting when they said straight love can never be pure, because biology always takes over”

“Yeah I remember that part too. It's quite ironic if we think those words were written not far from where we are now, the only place on Earth where even straight love is purpose to itself” she added with a melancholic smile, referring to Athena’s law. More like a curse, really. They served the Goddess, and therefore her highest rank knights, presents included, where physically prevented from having children. Physically prevented from having someone in their life important enough to second guess their loyalty and their obedience. To orders, to tasks, or to wars. Traditionally they were also prevented from falling in love, but that rule was so stupid and inapplicable it had already been removed since Shion’s time. Nike had simply extended it to relationships among the knights.

“Come on, let’s move to the couch”

“But... we’ve always talked at the table” he replied taken by surprise. The couch? Like face to face less than a meter apart? Was he even allowed to be that close to her within those walls? With the risk of touching her by mistake?

“I know” she said sitting down.

“But I really don’t know why. Considering how much Saga must have paid for it, we might as well use it. It's way more comfortable”

Camus made a quick estimate in his mind and decided that deliberately refusing a direct invitation from a goddess would be way less respectful than accidentally touching her.

‘The circumstances have changes, but I've already had the occasion to touched her. Can't be that bad’ and he sat.

What he had not accounted for in his estimate was that in that moment, for the first time, maybe because he was so close to her, Nike’s beauty hit him all at once. Since coming back to Milo he hadn’t had women, but that didn’t mean he was insensitive to the beauty of a female body. And Nike’s, now that he finally was paying that much attention, could not be described with words. She was simply perfect.

‘Idiot, what are you, a teenager? Don't get ideas. You just came back to life, wanna get yourself killed again?’

“You and Milo” she began

“You are the perfect example of what the symposium is talking about”

“You are right, we are quite lucky”

“You had your share of pain and suffering”

“Me not as much. After all, all I did was dying. He's the one who had to live with my memory. Oh and speaking of which, thank you”

“For what?”

“For helping him during those though times”

“He told you?” she asked half panicked, half relieved at the idea of not having to keep the secret with him any longer.

‘That big Greek mouth, what did he spill? If he went around spilling I like to be needled during sex I'm gonna end him’

“Not in detail. He’s proud, and you know it. But he told me after Athena refused to let him go, without you he would have died of despair”

“We both needed it, you know? I missed you a ton too. I missed all of you” Nike said, gently resting her hand on his knee.

Camus realized that very moment it was the first time of his new life he touched her outside of training or some sort of special occasion. And the effect was undeniable. He wasn’t the Ice King he thought he was, considering he was seriously running the risk to lose control for a hand on a knee. But then again, considering who the hand belonged to... he turned around to look at her in the eye. He realized it was another first. Her face could have been sculpted by the gods themselves an any human would have done anything for it. It was the earthly manifestation of Victory itself. He wondered if Helen, the face that launched a thousand ships, could have been a previous incarnation.

‘If she decides to read my Cosmo I’m done. But she’s the one touching me. Can’t be that bad, can it? But my other ideas… better to nip them in the bud. Right?”

With no idea whatsoever of the consequences, Camus followed his impulse, something he had done only a handful of times before, for the very first time in his new life. He decided to cover Nike’s hand still on his knee with his own.

‘She didn’t recoil. And she’s still looking at me. What if, by chance, the feeling was mutual? This new life is a gift. We made a promise with Milo to sink out teeth in it as much as we can and live every minute to the fullest’

“Your skin is so hot” he said, finally breaking that deafening silence.

“It’s the Kamui. My Cosmo has been burning like a furnace since the minute I wore it. You should see me in battle”

“I did see you”

“I meant the other kind of battle, the kind you fight in bed”

“Then show me” he replied, using that very moment to steal a kiss.

She was not expecting it, but she had somehow always dreamt about it. As soon as she realized their lips were touching she let herself go to the moment, wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth. He hugged her waist in return, and made that kiss as French as it could be.

It was so intense and deep it made her want to go further, significantly further. But something held her back. He was the first one to speak when he realized.

“My lady” he apologized leaving the couch to kneel down before her, just like he had done thousands of other times.

“Forgive my forwardness. Since I died, every moment of this new life is a precious gift and I followed my instinct and desire, with the impression you wanted me to. I can’t begin to imagine a suitable punishment”

“Come on get up and look at me. You know I hate this formality. That’s not why I hesitated. It’s Milo”

“Milo and I aren’t monogamous. Like I said, I don’t want to waste any second of this new miracle life” he added.

“And I want no regrets”

“What is it that you don’t wish to regret, beside kissing me?”

‘I’m already on my knees… and already in trouble… might as well’ he thought.

Slowly, without a word, he opened her legs and started kissing the inside of her knees. She didn’t reject him, quite the opposite, judging how she sighed at his touch. So he started slowly heading further up. It was quite evident Nike was wearing nothing under her slip. The access was extremely easy. Slow touches first, and growing intensity. Camus lost himself in a sensual French kiss with her pearl. She stabbed the couch fabric with her nails, overwhelmed by her senses. Gods, how good was he?

“Cam… Camus… if you keep going… you are gonna make me come”

Making the goddess of victory come. Quite the item the check off the list.

‘If touching her is forbidden, giving her a small death is my one way ticket to the big one. My third. But when am I ever gonna get another chance at this?’

He kept going. With the expected outcome.

He lifted his gaze towards Nike. She was staring at him with that expression he knew well in the women he had had.

But it was so not enough. She wanted more.

“Aquarius, take me to bed” she finally ordered.

“I’m at your orders”

They both got up and headed to the bedroom kissing, grabbing, holding, and losing all inhibitions and his shirt, a crazy old PSG jersey.

The back of her knees was already pressed against the bed when she hesitated again. He immediately let go of her body, despite how much he wanted her, and broke the kiss.

“If I have to stop, you have to tell me now. Because if you let me continue this, Winged Victory, not even your Kamui could hold me back until I triumphed with you”

“I have to be sure you want this as much as I do. Despite Milo”

“We have already talked about Milo. We have an agreement. Besides, it would be so different with you”

‘I know about your agreement with Milo even better than you. But…’

“I need to know you really want this”

He grabbed her right hand and put it on his heart. It was pounding out of his chest. He used his other hand to lift her chin to look into her eyes.

“Regarde-moi ! Selon toi ?”

There was no doubt.

“Et tu ? Qu’est-ce que tu veux ?”

She needed to hear nothing more. She finally surrendered, picking up the kiss where it had stopped and sinking her fingers in his blood red hair. He lost the few inhibitions he still was holding on to, mostly due to her rank and her status. He grabbed her ass, lifted her up and dropped her on the bed, finally losing his pants before joining her.

Nike hadn’t lied. The excitation that was leading them to sex had warmed her already boiling skin even further. Camus’s Cosmo was also on high, except his was cold. Very cold. Almost without thinking, he started emanating ice from his hands while he was using them to take off her slip. She shivered and moaned in pleasure.

“You like my ice?” he asked while kissing her neck.

“Seems like…”she replied practically breathless. It was quite the revelation for Camus. The fantasy he didn’t know he had started forming in his mind. He was cryokinetic, he could make ice out of nowhere. And she was so scorchingly, superhumanly hot. She was going to get some of his ice.  His lips and his breath turned as cold as the winds of Siberia where he had trained for so many years while he picked up kissing her neck and lips. Then he moved south to her breasts, adding his hands to the party. Every freezing touch of his was welcomed by a moan of pleasure and relief from the fire that burned her from within. It was like playing with ice cubes on her skin, except he was the ice. And he was never going to melt.

The excitation of that game was going to his head, and Camus decided it was time to move past foreplay. It was time to get real. He grabbed her hands and yanked them over her head.

“Your Cosmo alone won’t be enough to melt my ice. If you want to break free you’ll have to summon the armbands of your Kamui.”

“Break free from what?” she barely asked before he froze her wrist solid to the headboard. Camus paused for a moment to verify he wasn’t going to far, but Nike didn’t protest. Quite the opposite, she was beguilingly smiling. He needed less. He climbed on top of her as hard as he could be and victory was finally his.

He hadn’t had sex with a woman since coming back to life in Asgard. He couldn’t deny he had missed a lot of things. The softness of her skin, her sensual curves, her generous breasts. But truly what he had missed the most was being in full control of what was happening during that moment. He could choose how to move, the rhythm to keep, the intensity of his thrusts, what to touch and what not. Every single moment he could decide whether to make her come or wait.

She liked this torture, this full surrender as much as he did. Camus thought the body of this woman, this goddess, would be any man’s dream. It was not just simply perfect under any point of view, made to be looked at, made to be touched. It was above all made to be fucked. As much as he already knew he was good at the job – he was French after all – he had never seen a woman respond with such intensity. He could see it from her face, her moans, her kisses. But mostly he could feel it from her Cosmo.

When he was finally satiated he decided to gift her the orgasm she was so close to. While climaxing yet again, Nike wrapped her legs around his waist so tight she left bruises on his skin. He was so constrained and she was so unbelievable. He could nothing but let himself go a few moments after, exploding in her like an Aurora Execution.

He freed her from his ice while still inside her, kissed her, and then dropped on his back beside her, exhausted yet ecstatic.

Then he realized.

“My third life is over isn’t it?”

“What? Why?”

“According to official protocol, I’m not even supposed to touch you. And I literally just came inside of you. After basically raping you and tying you to the bed. Not to mention earlier on the couch” he said mostly to himself, staring at the ceiling with empty eyes.

“I never gave a fuck about that stupid official rule. I can’t change it because Saori wants it enforced on herself. To keep Seiya at bay, I think. Besides, raped? You kidding? I consented more than once. And you gave me two mind-blowing orgasms. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to you before, let alone now”

She hugged him and pecked his lips, reassuring him but also hitting the bruises she had left on his sides. He made a face.

“Nike I get it you are a platinum knight, but keep your strength under control”

“What do you mean?” she asked massaging her wrists to restart the blood flow. Camus pointed at his side.

“How the fuck am I supposed to explain these?”

She started genuinely laughing.

“Tell the truth. Say that it was me in training. Just don’t specify what type of training”

She extended her hand healing him instantly.

“I swear, next time I’m freezing your ankles too”

“Next time?”

“Humm… yeah I mean if you want it there to be a next time”

She lied on her side to admire him extending a hand on his sixpack.

“Camus, di you take a look at yourself? Of course I want to. But you put the bar quite high for yourself. From now on, you’ll always have to make me come as hard as you just did”

“Haha. I’ll do my best, I promise. And don’t you worry, we don’t have to use the ice at all in the future”

She gave him one of her resting bitch face stares.

“Cam, in your opinion, do I look like I have trouble getting laid?”

His only reply was checking her out head to toes and back, lingering on her perfect ass and boobs, and finishing back to her eyes. The emerald green was so intense to seem fake. Then he lifted and eyebrow.

“My point exactly. If I’m fucking you I’m expecting, no I’m demanding at least some ice” she said kissing him for the last time of the night.

While heading back to the eleventh house, Camus thought back to what had just happened at the thirteenth. He would have never ever imagined having sex with Nike in his life. Partly for her rank, but mostly because he could never hope for her to look at him that way. But he was even more surprised of that fantasy he had just turned into reality with her. Something he would have given anything he had and done everything he could to repeat over and over again. Playing with his ice, using it to restrain her movements, just the thought of it made him want to turn around for seconds. Why had he never thought of it before, with Milo for example? But no, that was never going to work. It was so different with Milo. Theirs was pure love, it was almost sacred what the had. Vanilla was already too much, especially after losing each other for that long. He would have never even imagined to use his ice on him. This is what their agreement was for. We fuck whomever we want and between us it’s pure love.

He fell asleep wondering if Milo had taken advantage of their agreement just yet. And with whom. Did he go past vanilla? And if yes, how? Actually, he’d rather not know.

#saint seiya #cavalieri dello zodiaco #knights of the zodiac #original writing #scrittura originale #original content #original character #original story #nike victoria #vittoria alata #scarlett needle #cosmo #creative use of powers #camus x milo #milo x camus #saintseiya #oc #cavalieri d'oro #gold saints #aquarius camus #camus dell'acquario #diamond dust #aurora execution

[gillianthecat]

scattered thoughts on censorship of queerness and "bromance"

I hate censorship on a moral and political level, but sometimes i really enjoy the shows that come out of it. I think I enjoy the detective work of trying to read between the lines, of figuring out the subtext. In general (although not exclusively) I tend to prefer art that is understated rather than blatant (in regards to anything; not just queerness or sex). +

In a place, like China, where there is literal state censorship I think my biggest reaction is admiration at how the show-makers manage to tell a queer story despite their restrictions. I feel like I'm on their side, cheering them on for telling their story against the odds. I feel like a co-conspirator with them.

One of the fascinating things that can emerge from working under censorship is when makers create a story that makes no sense unless you know it's been censored. This has the effect of highlighting the censorship and the thing being censored. I only watched a little bit of Advance Bravely, but that's what happened there. And, to me, the editing of the ending of The Untamed, where there were a bunch of confusing time jumps, seemed like a deliberate way to say "we're not allowed to tell you what really happened with them." +

In places without state censorship, like the US or Korea, I get more betrayed and angry, since the censorship is a decision the creators are making. With The Devil Judge, while I'm really enjoying the game of "look! its a romance" I think if (when) I get to the end and their romantic relationship isn't explicitly acknowledged I'll be pissed. That's going to feel homophobic.

Obviously there are a lot of pressures on creators outside of literal state censorship. Capitalism is real. Sometimes the creative team needs to bow down to the production company. Even without official censorship this may be the only way they can get their particular queer story out into the world. But it still pisses me off, and there's a frustrating feeling of, if only. +

I think a censored queer romance, where the creators are clearly intentionally portraying a romantic relationship but not overtly acknowledging it as one, is different from a "bromance" where the creators aren't intending the relationship to be romantic/sexual, but (accidently?) create something that is easy to read sexual tension/romance into. [i haven't watched much American media in so long, so i can't think of any specific examples right now, but i know there are gazillions]

I 'm sure I'm not the first to say this, but: I think bromances happen when they're set in a world that pretends queerness doesn't exist. Since as viewers, we do know that queerness exists, it creates this dynamic where any of the characters could be queer and the show just wouldn't tell us. This means that any connection or tension between two characters can just as validly be read as romantic/sexual as it could as platonic friendship.

On the other hand, if the world acknowledges queerness (in a real way, not just a token gay co-worker), then we can believe a character shown to be straight is straight, and a relationship shown as platonic is platonic. We know that Alonzo and Bertram are just playful bantering friends and aren't romantic, because we're shown Carlo and Daisuke overtly flirting in the next room. +

Are there any recent English language censored queer romance shows? (Where the relationship is clearly depicted as romantic, but the show doesn't overtly acknowledge it.) All I can think of is stuff that is either bromance/sismance (or whatever the lesbian equivalent is called) or stuff that is explicitly queer. I know these films/shows must have existed earlier but I can't think of any now. Anyone have any names for me? If it stopped, when did it stop?

Some of these are inspired by other people's writing but its all melded together so I can't credit anyone specific right now.

#thoughts on bromance #thoughts on censorship #the devil judge #the untamed #guardian #advance bravely #my ramblings #i wish tumblr would let me do the spacing i want

[misscrazyfangirl321]

ALSO ANY SORT OF NIKOLA WHUMP FOR SUPERHERO VERSE WOULD BE *VERY* WELCOME. inflicted by john, mayhaps?

He’s known this day would come for a very long time. It’s part of why he’s pulled away from the others, running as far and fast as possible (the other part is the way Helen clings to her loyalty, refusing to betray her husband even now, when he’s more monster than man). He’s gone from hotel to hotel, keeping to the shadows as much as possible, always running. 

It took four years for Johnny to catch up to him. That’s something, at least; he’d almost consider it an accomplishment. 

But now the day has come, and they’re standing across the room from each other, both trying to stare the other down. (It’s pointless, and Nikola knows it. He’s powerful, but his best weapons turn to ash under John’s hands.) 

John never liked him before. Now that he’s evil, there will be nothing in the world to stop him from burning Nikola alive. 

“Johnny.” He keeps his voice deliberately light. “So good of you to stop by. Can I offer you something? Wine, food, an exit?” 

It’s the first time John’s ever smiled at one of his jokes, and Nikola has a terrible feeling it’s because he’s going to be the punchline. 

“Quite the contrary. It’s a lovely room. I’d like to stay in it.” 

“Well, I’ve already paid for it, so-”

“That won’t be an issue.” Smoke drifts up from him, filling the room. “You won’t be around to enjoy it.” 

Everything happens quickly after that. John lunges forward, Nikola steps to the side, and flames begin to dance across the carpet, chasing after him. There’s only one book within reach, a child’s book about butterflies that a former guest must have left behind, and Nikola doesn’t quite have the heart to bring a bunch of butterflies out to get fried. If it would help him, maybe, but it would’t help a bit. 

Instead, Nikola picks up the book, throwing it at John’s head. Not the most effective measure; it’s ash before it ever touches his skin. 

“Creative, old boy, but pointless. You won’t be leaving this room alive, so why waste your energy?” 

“Well, there’s no point in saving it for later.” He hurls the table at John, but once again, it never gets close to him. The flames, though, are getting closer and closer to Nikola, crowding around him. 

“True enough.” 

When the flames reach Nikola John raises a hand, and they all stop, lingering close enough to be painful, but not quite touching. 

“This isn’t going to make her love you again,” Nikola spits out. It’s foolish-not to mention a weak insult, when Helen’s love for John is more clear than ever these days-but the barb lands all the same, and the fire grows warmer, leaving his skin a terrible red. The smoke should be suffocating him by now, but it isn’t; apparently Johnny here is quite intent on literally burning him alive, and he can’t say he’s a fan of the whole idea. 

John’s voice drops to almost a whisper, dripping with rage. “Give me one good reason not to kill you now.” 

And truly, there isn’t one. He and John have hated each other since long before this creature came along, and he’s played as much a role as John has in egging the hatred on. Now the time has come to pay for it. 

“She’ll mourn me.” It’s the only thing he can think to say, a more than desperate scramble for something-anything-to keep himself alive. But it’s also completely true. She may not have ever loved him as he loves her, but Helen does love him in a way, and she will mourn if he dies (it’s a small consolation, but it is one, all the same). 

John tilts his head to the side, considering the words. Then the fire curls out, leaving an angry red mark on Nikola’s arm. Before Nikola can even think to be afraid, the fire disappears completely, leaving him pained and humiliated, but alive. 

“You’re quite right. We can’t have that, can we?” John doesn’t wait for an answer, just turns and walks out the door (taking, of course, Nikola’s latest bottle of wine).

Nikola isn’t altogether sure whether jealousy drove John to walk away, or whether somewhere deep inside the man, he still does not want to cause Helen pain (a foolish, selfish part of Nikola hopes it is the former). Either way, Nikola Tesla lives another day... For now. 

#john druitt #nikola tesla #sanctuary #answered #thanks for the ask! #lattes of love #my fics #my writing #mine #superhero au

[golden-----hour]

55

1/6/24

I want to journal. Allison says that journaling is a communication you cannot do with another. That you elicit information not otherwise gleaned, which makes me think about language as a bucket of water instead of language as darts. As I am typing, I am ignoring how my phone makes stupid autocorrect choices and my body itches: my hands, the sides of my face, my legs tickle, my lower back, my left eye. Like small bristles. Earlier today on the train back from Munich I wanted to write a poem to put the day away. I considered how trees are scepters of death and felt interesting. Trees stand still for hundreds of years and witness the same copse transformed over time, season after season. What wisdom then, in knowing what a place means? I understood rings as a primordial language. Something grown out from the middle ciphering God- ripples in a pond, smoke rings, emission from an ultimate center. A part of why I am writing is because I am feeling exposed by the people in my life. And I know I labor to write these words sitting plainly in the itching discomfort. Even my fingers feel frustrated to move right now but I am curious about discovery and I can't help it right now and can help it. If it not the year for poetry I can manage that. My private magic. What I was describing the whole time was maybe not awe. Things seem not as real if fear isn't the beating heart of gratitude. When things are sharp I can hold them. Being real feels special. If I can be the most here, I can hold my biggest life the most too. So I kiss a stranger in Munich in a room I'll never be in again and on the rooftop in Vienna surrounded on all sides by rising, exploding fireworks. I can be the most here. Saul described me as a galactic fumble. He doesn't know I loved him as he held onto me. I felt the sort of correct one does when someone beautiful holds them. Saul was smelling me. I see back through time all of the time. I announce memory disturbs me to honor the self I used to be and do not remember. I remain unpublished. I say over and over I will be big in my small life and small in this big world and know my place in things until I believe it. What I value is not success until I believe it. Some people stay and some people leave. Some people stay and everybody leaves. At the apartment after new years I wanted Saul to notice me or touch me but he spoke plainly and made the right amount of eye contact. He writes poorly which feels important. It's like his language asks for help to be molded. My other friends didn't initially understand why I would like him and I will be an anchor. It's feel right to not have a voice that stays the same in any which way. I feel less gravity in the writing over time and over time. To outlive your own narrative is to admit you haven't been creative enough or you've confirmed to the wrong paradigm. Were we all meant to be the people we were, after all? I did not just wake up into myself- my story never started and it never ends. Life started once and never again. The next step after looking at something for too long is considering. When borders fail and definitions blur, then the perspective is there, which is when things feel potentially transformative. What makes me not Will Howitt? I am him and vice versa and I know this. I feel silly about conviction. I feel less sure about my writing voice snd the innocence of beauty. Creation as a mode of selfhood. Deliberate being. Announcement. Anthem. I can tell I like the way I sound and don't seek forgiveness. I pray the music is still there every day. I try to be honest. Where is my substack and small righteous glory? My indie band.

Good night

[sinceileftyoublog]

Dazy, Lifeguard, & Illusion Of Choice Live Show Review: 12/4, Cobra Lounge, Chicago

Dazy

BY JORDAN MAINZER

I'm not sure what Dazy does at a faster pace these days: tour or release tunes. Since we caught his Chicago debut of full-band arrangements in January, he's come to town twice more, including last night's stop at the Cobra Lounge. And mere months after releasing OUTOFBODY in 2022, in March, James Goodson shared songs recorded around the same time in the form of the cheekily titled OTHERBODY. The record continued the vibe of Dazy's debut LP, from the "Revolution" crunch of opener "I Know Nothing At All" to the sugary noise of "Every Little Thing". Just two months ago, Dazy shared the Ryan Hemsworth-assisted "Forced Perspective" (Lame-O), a collection of rounded country pop guitar riffs, a chirpy electric beat, and an uneasy, yet anthemic chorus.

Dazy's James Goodson

Always writing and always playing, it must be hard for Goodson to pick a setlist on a nightly basis. A year-plus removed from OUTOFBODY and over two years from MAXIMUMBLASTSUPERLOUD: The First 24 Songs, Dazy's set at the Cobra Lounge felt like as close as you can get right now to "the hits," the crowd pumping fists, banging heads, and singing along to favorites "On My Way", "Split", "The Perfect Crime", "Pressure Cooker", and "Invisible Thing". I was just as happy, though, to see Goodson lean into the sweet, softer side of Dazy. "Forced Perspective", with its curly bass and guitar scrapes, was a highlight, as was "Every Little Thing", "could be a country hit" "Rollercoaster Ride", and set closer "Out of Body". "Is that my brain hanging by a thread?" Goodson sang on "Out of Body"; as much as he may have been disassociating at the time of writing the song, his everyday anxieties have certainly provided ample creative fodder for some of the best power pop of the past half-decade.

Lifeguard

Chicago's Lifeguard opened for Dazy, which was perhaps anybody's final chance to see the band in an opening slot at a venue as small as Cobra Lounge. The hyped three-piece, formed in 2019, signed to Matador Records earlier this year. Let's get it out of the way: Yes, drummer Isaac Lowenstein's sister Penelope is in labelmates Horsegirl, and bassist Asher Case's father is Brian Case of FACS (and formerly of Disappears, The Ponys, and 90 Day Men). Thankfully, Lifeguard is a beast of its own, combining chanted vocals with clanging, metallic guitars and dexterous, repetitively pummeling drums. Earlier this year, Matador re-released the band's 2022 EP Crowd Can Talk along with a collection of new material, Dressed in Trenches. Live, Lifeguard showed what they're truly about: off-kilter time signatures, uneven song sections, moments where you can't tell when they're warming up or about to switch gears. When they played "17-18 Lovesong", Case's rounded bass and monotone vocals wiggled around Kai Slater's stabbing guitars and falsetto off-beat harmonies, though the band never let you get too comfortably hypnotized in a groove. They finished with their newest song, the uncharacteristically poppy and straightforward (yet very welcome!) "In The City". You never know what's next with Lifeguard, and they're just getting started.

Illusion of Choice

Starting off the night was another local institution, four-piece shoegaze indie rock band Illusion of Choice. Most of their songs revolved around the atmospheres you'd expect with a genre descriptor like that: Alex Rackow's distorted guitars, Judith Pelkowski's heavy bass lines, Alex Boyajian's mammoth snares, and Tyler Tumminaro's sharp, nasal vocal delivery. Occasionally, they added elements of jangly surf, but for the most part, they chugged along deliberately, like on "Circling the Drain" and standout set closer "Bad Boy". Overall, Illusion of Choice offered an appropriate middle ground between Dazy's hooks and Lifeguard's deconstructed songs.

#live music #dazy #lifeguard #cobra lounge #james goodson #matador #otherbody #illusion of choice #outofbody #ryan hemsworth #lame-o #lame-o records #MAXIMUMBLASTSUPERLOUD: The First 24 Songs #matador records #isaac lowenstein #penelope lowenstein #horsegirl #asher case #brian case #facs #disappears #the ponys #90 day men #crowd can talk #dressed in trenches #kai slater #alex rackow #judith pelkowski #alex boyajian #tyler tumminaro

[dzpenumbra]

9/3/22

Today was a very good day. I would venture to say one of the best I've had in years. You ever have a day where you think... "this is gonna be a day I remember for years to come"? I guess you don't really plan those, do you?

It's weird, we kinda like to, don't we? We kinda like to make official days for celebrations, and deliberately try to mimic this feeling of true, organic memorialization. But it's never really the same, is it?

I connected with my brother. It was our first time spending time together since he went through some pretty severe trauma and we spent the day on my porch just talking. About a year. Unfortunately, that attempt to reconnect was too... inopportune a time. The insane emotional turbulence of immanent grief. I don't know if immanent is the right word, maybe immediate, acute, right-now/just-happened. That's the concept I'm trying to get across. He's admitted that emotional stuff is very difficult for him, and I understand why. Expressing emotions is very... unsafe in my family. Probably because it was unsafe in previous generations or something. So myself, a naturally hypersensitive emotional creative... I could relate. How could I judge? You know. I know what it's like. I tried to communicate it, but it's hard to get across without sounding arrogant or condescending. "Oh yeah, I know how you feel like not feeling safe sharing your feelings but having them just bursting the fuck out of you, I've been wrestling with that since I was in diapers." People can get defensive against that.

I am genuinely impressed to see his growth and maturity. It's... surreal. And I'm sure it has been for others seeing my awakening as well. I understand now, having seen this side of things and gone through it myself, why so many of my friends and family were completely disoriented and concerned. Well... I've grown pretty far away from understanding the "concerned" part honestly, so much time has passed since I had a dominant personality that could understand that way of thinking. It's like trying to remember a dream you had a few days ago or something.

But this meeting has been very unique. I see old parts of him fused with new confidence, new excitement and curiosity, a desire not as much to "be right", but to engage in the constant process of discovery. To share these discoveries with the passion and enthusiasm he feels inside, genuinely, honestly, fully. I can feel the "but wait until you hear this!" like... effervescence. Like a boiling kettle. I mean these are obviously abstract analogies here, right. How the fuck can you describe the emotional excitement you "contact high" through someone in close proximity to you, that you're sharing an experience with?

That quality, that moment - it is a mirror to my gifts. And very clearly demonstrates to me that he shares this gift. Expressive passion. When engaged truthfully, honestly. Not exaggerated. Not forced. Real, genuine excitement. That makes not just a good teacher, but just a good person to be around. There are those who will hate it. Feel threatened by it. "Oh you're really into Starcraft, huh? You weeb. You nerd. You loser." That kinda shit, right? I'm just completely done listening to people like that. Just like... for real. I have no idea why I ever gave people like that the power to decide whether I'm honest with my expressions or not. And I'm sad that this still has a hold of both of us. The grip of judgment. The fear of dis... is it disapproval? I mean, they'd have to actually engage in it to truthfully dismiss something. Ignorance? Closed-mindedness? That kinda thing?

I'm kinda getting to the point where I'm done just like... not doing things I love. Creating memories I love. Living a life that I look back on in 5 years and go "man, I'm so glad I decided to do that with my time." That's a big part of this journal. I've been thinking I should just say fuck it and do a book at some point. In this style. Because man can I write a fucking lot. I just really need to do typing exercises because this whole hunt-and-pecking with my right hand PC gaming thing combined with using the right trigger on Xbox controller a lot in Session is kinda fuckin up my forearm again.

Man I just ADD'd off that sentiment real hard and want to go back full circle on it one mo' 'gain...

I'm tired of the judgement of bitter people. I'm tired of not living the life I deserve, because others are not willing to pay the cost that I have to live that life themselves. Instead, they want me to have paid the cost... and then quit. Or never start. Whether it's a single project or a career path (oddly more the latter), peers from walks of life that tend to lean into the realm of... shame and regret dominant... have a tendency to try to peer pressure you out of living the life that would make you blissful. They will tell you "you can't play video games for a living, that's not a real job." They will tell you "you can't design video games for a living, that's not a real job." They will even stretch to say "you can't sell video games for a living, that's not a real job." Every single one of these is false. If you are out there and are a creative... well, not exclusively, but especially... please listen to this. If you just make cool Christmas ornaments out of cut yogurt lids, and only do it because you did as a kid and you really liked it... you can do that for a living. You just need to figure out a way. And you need to make sure you're around people who also say "fuck yeah, those ornaments are sick, I have no idea how you got so good at making them, I can't wait to see the next one." Fans. Real ones. I honestly believe that is all you need for success. Passion. Devotion. A willingness to learn, grow and improve every day. A healthy social network. That's it. I truly believe that.

So as I once again look over at the blackout curtains and see the midnight blue but also kinda slate grey and a little green... of dawn, I get the reflex to wrap this up. Still not really feeling... I don't know. I just have a push away from going to sleep at like 2. It's odd honestly. I think it's just not wanting to be alone and asleep for that many hours in darkness. The only light in my house right now is my laptop. Hmm... maybe if I put on the dim moonlike salt lamp on the other side of the room, maybe that would help me sleep better? Ooooo here's a thought... maybe I could get a dark blue sheet and mimic dawn light on the salt lamp... That could be interesting. I'll see if I can get to bed tomorrow a bit earlier and try that. Fat chance, but hey, I can dream!

I was gonna say... we'll see what tomorrow brings... like kinda groaning or whatever. Fuck that. I'll find that shit out tomorrow. For now, I'm gonna just try to sit content with this moment. That life works in very mysterious ways, and it's been a long and crazy rollercoaster of trauma to get here... and, as with all things, it may even just be momentary - gotta let my heart and stomach drop for a bit to really be... real on this one. Not in a pessimistic way, I'm really trying not to lean into that. But... to allow the pessimistic perspective a voice, and allow myself a momentary emotional preparation, a practice run, in a way. Like... this is a possible outcome. Like flipping a tarot card. The choices of both myself and my brother will decide what this becomes. And whatever we mutually choose, I'm very glad for it. Life is too amazing to spend alone.

The thought I wanted to finish from the last paragraph was "it's been a long rollercoaster of trauma to get here." I wanted to make sure it was added - because the thought got away from me before I could write it - "and it's a shame it was necessary to turn us into the odd, artsy, wise weirdos we are today." It's a shame that creation comes from devastation. Inspiration from destruction. But the growth has been very visibly profound. What used to be a gaping wound is no longer as raw, but also not rough, calloused and scarred over. The flesh has reformed with a higher level of complexity. Not just bigger and rougher. But grown back with better systems, upgrades, lessons learned and new tools to experience existence fuller. Like that big emotional wound was like an opportunity to do a full system upgrade, since we're restarting the computer anyway. Like when Windows asks you if you want to Update & Shut Down. That shit. But with your personality. And you get to choose the updates. Pretty sick analogy, it works pretty well. THAT. Right there. That I like to think of as rebirth. Resurrection. And, with a new life, of course... comes death. Death of the old you. Like moving to a new house is the death of the age of the old house. Such a powerfully traumatic event (both positive[additive/gain] and negative[subtractive/loss] trauma) can be, and very often is, the forced birth of a new You. If you get in one of those any time soon, I highly advise taking the opportunity to review your highlight reel of the different people you've been. A child, an adolescent, a teen, a young adult - you at work, you at school, you at home, you with your friends. You that played guitar on stage, you that was on the soccer team. Remember all of your greatest hits personas. And bring em all with you. The bad ones? The bad spirits? The crotchety guy who was so depressed he couldn't get off the couch and just turned it into bitter resentment towards the world, towards life itself, like getting emotionally clogged and something's rotting inside him? How the fuck do we bring those with us? How do we willfully bring those into our new incarnations? Well... I think they have some redeeming qualities within. It's the only way I live with them, so maybe watching a ton of horror movies as a younger man helped me understand that a bit better. There is always a redeeming quality in all of them, and the remainder is a constant reminder of why we currently choose not to act like that. Why we choose to not look at life in such a powerless and submissive way, only taking action to express our frustrations and outrage. Why we choose now to try to be deliberate and thoughtful in our actions, and act with the best interest of all first. When we don't get too backed up in a corner, that is... I mean... we are all human, after all, right? How do we bring the spirits with us? We remind ourselves that even our shameful parts are part of us, and they need to be, lest we not learn our lessons and unwittingly repeat history.

That was a big paragraph. I sometimes add formatting breaks when I'm listening to this back before posting. I don't think I'll do that this time. I think it shows very visually how stimulated my brain and active my thought patterns were right there. That's been happening a lot lately. It's very great for brainstorming and creative projects, writing, but... not so much for going to sleep.

Before going - I just took more tincture because screw it - I wanted to share a new practice I started last night. I want to be more deliberate with my dreamwork. In the time before I fall asleep, I usually either let my brain ramble until I nod off or try to focus on physical sensations or see what weird patterns my brain is painting on the back of my eyelids. I've started trying to create an imaginary zen garden in my mind's eye. A place that I can go to as I fall asleep, like a... splash screen on a game or something. Like splash art on a loading screen when you're loading into a game. A little lobby to play around in and explore while my body goes into hibernation mode and we shift into dream mode. And I have a feeling that the more I visit this place, the more it will take shape. The more I will become familiar with different features, which I can of course alter as I see fit. Like a Minecraft server or something. The OG Minecraft server, the one in your imagination! I'm excited about this idea, and you know what, once I get really familiar with it... maybe I'll paint it.

Or better yet... maybe I'll 3D model it in Blender. Then I can just get started making another one... God damn, if this works, this is gonna be really cool. At least to me... XD

#diary #journal #stream of thoughts #spilled thoughts #online journal #mental health #self care #self improvement #stream of consciousness #online diary #daily diary #journal entry

[1kook]

kissanime & foreplay

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k

notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!! 

HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜

—

The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.

The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.

And of course, Doyeon.

Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.

The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.

So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.

Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.

However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.

He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?

Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.

Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.

It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.

Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.

You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.

Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.

After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.

He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.

You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.

You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?

With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”

He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.

Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.

Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.

“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.

You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.

“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”

By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.

Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.

You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.

You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.

“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”

At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.

“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.

You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”

Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”

“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”

The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”

His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.

His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.

The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.

Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.

“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”

A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.

With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.

Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.

He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”

“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.

The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.

The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.

A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.

You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.

There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?

A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.

His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.

You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”

Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”

“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.

The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.

Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.

The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.

“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.

“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.

Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.

“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.

There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”

“Jungkook,” you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“

A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”

His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”

You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.

It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.

The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.

The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”

Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.

Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.

When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.

He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.

Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.

“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.

He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.

Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.

The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.

“Kook,” you whine childishly.

Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.

But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.

From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“

He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”

You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“

“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”

The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.

For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.

“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.

It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).

But, this moment…

The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.

It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.

Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.

It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.

“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.

Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.

You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”

He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”

He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”

With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”

His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”

You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”

Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”

You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.

Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”

“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”

“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.

He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.

“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”

“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”

“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.

—

epilogue 

Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that. 

—

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jjk fic #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts smut #mine

[slasherrabbitmadness]

Hi dear! I’m not too sure if this is too specific or odd for you to write, but if not may I request Vincent comforting his pregnant s/o after Bo makes a rude comment about their baby bump size? Thank you so much and take care 💕

Anon, I'd love to do more 'mature' kind of stuff like pregnancy and other related kinks -Lactation kink and such- This fic is just fluff though! Take care of yourself and thank you! 🐇💕

Vincent Sinclair x Female Reader (Pregnant Reader)

Underthecut - Fluff, Angst, Jonesy being a good girl, Pregnancy stuff, Bo being a dick, Mentions of Killing and noncon (Brief and not with the reader)

"You know, I wouldn't doubt if half of that bump was from all that food you've been eatin." Bo snarked as he caught you mid-waddle down the streets of Ambrose with Jonesy in tow.

Jonesy whined and gave Bo a soft ruff. Her wet nose tickled your fingers.

You froze. Shoulders slumped as you spoke with a vulnerable tone, "I'm pregnant you backwoods bastard." The tears welled up, bottom lip trembled as he shuffled back to the house of wax.

Bo hollered out to you, "Aw, c'mon, sweetpea! I'm just messin around!" Jonesy, tell er!"

Jonesy barked and growled at Bo as you two made your way up the street.

Every sniffle and tear made you feel like shit as if you didn't already. "Thanks, Jonesy." You patted her head, "God, your uncle sure is a dick. And he's basically my stupid brother-in-law"

You broke out into a sob, Jonesy pressed her weight against your legs, her whines telling you she understood. Might not fully understand why you were upset, but upset nonetheless.

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

Vincent busied himself with his latest creation, a teddy. He wanted it to be perfect. It was for her firstborn child after all, and that little munchkin deserved the best.

The best...

He pounded, a slight frown as he sat back in his chair. Could he give the best? Could he give his child everything their little heart desired? Realistically he knew no parent could.

It still ate away at him. Festered deep within him after the rush of excitement at the pregnancy news had worn off.

It had taken months of talking to calm him down about his appearance. Would the baby be scared of him? Screech and scream as he neared, as he neared you.

"Vincent, the baby doesn't know the concept of 'normal' They'll simply see you as their father."

He wanted to cry when you spoke those words to him.

He wasn't usually soft, years all walls being put up made him cold and calculating. No one was to tear them down.

No one but you.

"Vincent, stop worrying. Things will work out, you and Bo have been at this whole thing for years now. Sure a Baby is hard work but, we can do it."

More words replayed in his head,

"You know, Vince, I'm just as nervous. I too worry if I'll be good enough."

He cursed himself, he wished he could verbally to you just how amazing you'll be. How beautiful you look pregnant and how much more you'll look while carrying the baby in your arms.

He knows you'll look pregnant while you breastfeed, how naturally it will come to you. How the baby will cry when out of your arms.

Prayed the baby would never cry in his arms. Prayed you were right and the baby just saw him as a dad. Not some freak.

"The mask will scare him, Vince. So don't wear it around the baby!"

Vincent shook his head, snapped his attention back to the little teddy bear he was working on.

It had beige fur with buttons for eyes. Two blue-coloured buttons to match his eyes. A white snout with a sewn-in pink nose. It had a little black side smile, like the one you gave him when you were being smart with him.

Vincent perked up, the sound of his two favourite girls entering through the basement door elated him.

"Vincent?"

his heart stopped as your wobbly voice carried down the stairs.

"Vincent, I need you."

Vincent moved quicker than he could have imagined. A hand ran over Jonesy as he dashed up the stairs to place his large hand on your belly.

"Is...it...time?" He coughed as he held a powerless look. His heart sank as he watched the tears freely flow from your eyes, down your delicate cheeks.

"No, it was," A hiccup and a long sniffle, "Bo. He implied I looked fat!"

You collapsed into Vincent's arm with an audible thud, your heavy sobs muffled as you buried your face into his chest.

Vincent rolled his one eye and scooped you up. He bit his lip, his unscared cheek went pink as his chest rumbled.

He set you down on the bed next to Jonesy. He playfully shook his head as he looked down at you.

"What? Go kick his ass!"

Vincent clenched his chest, a wide smile, soft huffs from his mouth, he was laughing, to the best of his ability.

"It's not funny, Vince! You don't say that to a pregnant lady!"

He knew you were right, Bo shouldn't have said it. Was still funny how your hormones got the best of you. Normally if Bo would say such a thing to you, it would turn into a full-on verbal showdown.

Vincent sat behind you on the bed, pulled you into his chest, rested his chin on your shoulder as he pulled up the large t-shirt you wore. His. To rub your swollen belly.

You shifted uncomfortably as his fingers traced over your stretch marks. A slight whimper as his free arm wrapped itself around your chest, "Vinny, those are sore too," You gestured towards your breasts.

"M..sorry." He eased up but kept your firm against him.

His gentle strokes on your tummy, a figure pattern on your large baby bump had you sigh, your muscles eased as you shimmied closer in his arms.

The heat rose to your face, "Thanks, Vinny." You kissed his cheek, "I'm not fat?"

He coughed in an attempt to chuckle, "No...You...look beautiful."

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

"Hey," You shuffled around Jonsey, an impromptu dance as you kept giggling when she pushed her snout under your large shirt. Her wet, cold nose on your sensitive skin making you shriek and jump. "I think she's excited for the baby!"

Vincent sat on the large rock outside, his sketchbook in hand, the charcoal dusting his fingers as he captured the scene in front of him.

Each stroke was careful, each tiny detail was deliberate.

The way you moved in tandem with Jonesy was captured on the worn page.

"Well?" You shot him a look before you screamed, Jonesy's wet nose making contact with your belly. "You think she's excited or what?"

His smile made your chest tingle, your heartbeat out of synch for a few beats.

"You excited to meet your baby sister or brother?" Jonesy sneezed, her tail whipped about like a weed wacker gone loose. Her brown eyes held a warmth to them.

That was it.

Vincent worked furiously on the page, the way his two favourite girls shared a moment made his creativity course through him.

He silently cursed Bo. This would be a perfect opportunity to captured these moments on camera. But, "Hey, I need a momento of me and this blonde!" If momento he meant a porno slash snuff film...well fuck him then.

Maybe it was fair. He did hog the camera. From making Sex tapes with you, from basic sex to one long video of him drugging you and dressing you up. Many videos featuring the aftermath of his kills.

"Vincent!"

your voice snapped him out of his recollection.

"Vincent!" The way you joyously called to him as Jonsey greedily kissed your tummy with her nose had him carefully set down the sketchbook. "You better get over here!"

He grabbed you, you back against his chest as he held up your bump. The way he sighed and leaned back told him the action was appreciated. But, it held you in place and, allowed Jonesy to give you all the kisses she wanted.

"Vincent!"

#Vincent Sinclair #Vincent Sinclair x reader #Vincent Sinclair x you #Vincent Sinclair imagine #Female reader #Pregnancy #Pregnant reader #Fluff #angst #house of wax 2005

[mercy-burning]

Out Of Commission

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After being severely injured on a case, Reader needs to take it easy, and she finds a creative way for Spencer to make her feel better. Category: Smut 18+ (male masturbation, dirty talk - mentions of fingering, penetrative sex, overstimulation and multiple orgasms) Warnings: Sex, language, brief mentions of injury (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 1.9k (she’s a short one, but hella spicy, so I hope that makes up for it lol)

***EDITED: 7/25/2021***

PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST 

***

The first week was okay. She was resting and taking it easy, as she should, but by the second week of sitting in bed or on the couch, with extra coddling from her boyfriend and her family and her friends, Y/N was growing restless.

It's not like she didn't enjoy or appreciate the constant affection and nice gestures from Spencer in particular, but she wanted something different, something she knew he would refuse in fear of tearing her stitches or irritating her wounds.

Why did serial killers have to be so goddamn inconvenient?

It didn't help that Spencer was at her house almost every night. He'd offered to take the couch a few times, but Y/N dumbly insisted he stay in her bed with her, hoping his presence would bring her comfort. And to some degree it did, of course, but more often than not Y/N found herself wanting nothing more than to wrap herself up in him and kiss him until they both fell asleep. And sometimes that did happen, though Spencer was careful to watch where he placed his hands, pulling his body away from hers almost completely at times so he wouldn't hurt her or make her uncomfortable.

Even though it was obvious to the two of them that they both wanted more, it was just too dangerous, and Y/N needed to heal properly.

One night she was sitting in bed, watching a movie she'd already seen about twenty times, about ready to turn it off when Spencer walked in, a bag of Red Vines in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.

"I thought you might want a snack," he said with a smile as he brought them over, leaning down and giving her a chaste kiss on the forehead. "How are you feeling?"

Y/N turned off the TV and shrugged. She opened the water bottle as Spencer climbed into bed next to her. He remained on top of the covers, leaning his back against the headboard and turning his head to look at her.

"I'm alright," she answered after taking a drink of water. "Nothing hurts. I'm just bored."

He placed a hand on her knee over the comforter and snuggled just a little closer. "If anything starts to hurt, let me know. I'll get you your medicine."

Y/N smiled up at her boyfriend and leaned forward to kiss him, saying, "thank you," before their lips met. It was a small, sweet kiss, but after they pulled away, Y/N went in for another, bringing her hand up to lightly brush Spencer's cheek. He kissed her back softly, his hand massaging her knee with the same tenderness.

She slipped her tongue into his mouth carefully when their lips parted, and his hand squeezed her knee a little harder. But he didn't pull away, so she took that as a good sign. She could feel herself getting more excited as his hand slipped up her leg through the comforter to grip her thigh, so she sighed into his mouth and brought her hand down to run over his torso, using her nails to lightly scratch him through his shirt.

His grip on her thigh tightened when she slipped her hand under the tee shirt, bringing it around his waist to pull him closer to her.

"Wait, Y/N," Spencer said, pulling away from her completely. She pouted when she looked at him and he looked just as disappointed as she was. "We... We can't. You're not healed properly, and it's not safe right now. We should stop."

Not completely willing to give up yet, she leaned her head down onto his shoulder, snuggling up to him and pressing a kiss to his neck as she guided his hand to his lap. Right over the bulge she knew would already be forming.

"Well... Just because I'm out of commission doesn't mean you have to be... Don't you want to feel good?"

She gripped his hand tighter and ran it over his dick through the fabric of his sweatpants. "How long has it been since you touched yourself, hmm?" she whispered into his ear, taking it softly between her teeth for a moment as she continued to guide his hand.

Spencer's breathing picked up and he shifted a little. She could feel him swallow before answering. "Um... A-about a month? And a half?"

"So... not once since I've been injured? Baby..." She made it a point to sound as sorry as she could, continuing to kiss his neck and leave little licks and bites that would surely leave marks. "I know I can't really physically help you, but... What if I kept talking? Hmm? Would you like that?"

She felt his breath hitch when her hand left his and grabbed his chin to face her. She could see in his eyes how badly he wanted to take control. But she was, in fact, out of commission, and no matter how much they both wanted it, this was the next best thing.

Y/N ran her thumb along his lower lip as she softly bit her own, her eyes completely lost in his. "Let me help you feel good, baby... Please..."

Once she pulled out the begging, he was done for. And they both knew it.

Spencer gave in, turning his head to kiss the palm of her hand as he shifted, lifting his hips off the bed to slide down his pants and underwear just enough to pull out his dick. Y/N smiled and started kissing his neck again, using one of her hands to gently graze her fingernails up and down his stomach and chest under his shirt.

She watched intently as his hand moved in slow, deliberate strokes, his thumb occasionally swiping over the tip and smearing precum over it. "Mmm, I missed seeing your cock, baby," she spoke softly into his neck, pressing open mouthed kisses to it every so often in between words. "I love watching how good you work it... So nice and slow... And your hand... God, it's so hot seeing you use your hands..."

Spencer let out a small whine as Y/N started sucking on his neck, her hand paying careful attention to his nipples under his shirt. His hand moved a little faster, and she smiled against him.

"Tell me... If you could fuck me right now, what would you do to me?" she whispered in his ear, using her unoccupied hand to play and tug at his hair as she watched him jerk off.

He didn't answer for a few moments, concentrating on working his dick and being caught up in the way she felt him up, his breathing a little ragged.

"Hmm?" she pressed, tugging harder on his hair, and he whimpered.

"I... I'd want to take you f-from behind," he choked out honestly, squeezing his eyes shut as he continued his ministrations.

Y/N laughed softly, kissing his jawline. "Mmm, I love when you fuck me from behind... Especially over the counter. I love feeling your pretty fingers dig into my hips as you just pound me into the cold marble..."

His noises got a little louder as she kissed down his throat and neck, moaning into his skin as she did so. "Fuck, I miss having your cock inside me, baby... I miss it so much, you always know how to fuck me so good..."

At this point she was absolutely worked up, her pussy clenching around nothing as she slowly laid out these filthy images for her boyfriend. It was frustrating to say the least, knowing she couldn't do anything about it without potentially hurting herself. She thought about slipping a hand under the covers and masturbating with him, but truthfully she wasn't sure how it would affect her healing. Even sitting up this long, her torso slightly twisted so she could lean into Spencer's body and help him out was starting to take its toll.

So, she tried her hardest to ignore what her lower half was feeling and laser all her attention onto her boyfriend, who was dangerously close to finding release. She watched as his hand moved, lost in the soft, wet sounds of his quick movements mixing beautifully with his whines and moans. "Y/N, I... Fuck," he breathed, leaning his head back against the headboard.

She nodded, softly rubbing her thighs together as she kissed his neck and watched his hand. "I know, baby... What do you want, hmm? The first thing you want to do to me as soon as I'm all better..."

"I... I want... I want to finger you... I wanna feel your legs clench around my hand while I finger you from behind."

Y/N let out a breathy laugh against his neck, licking and sucking at it again. "Mmm, you would like that, wouldn't you? To feel me cum on your fingers? Shaking around them while I yell out your name?"

"Fuck, Y/N, yes," he managed through a moan.

She hummed into his skin, noticing how heavy his breathing was getting. Since he was close, she put extra performance into her words, taking the time to say each one slowly, and with just the right amount of softness and innocence in her tone.

"And then, even after you've made me cum, I'd bet you'd love to keep fucking me... Only this time you'd want to see my face, because you'd love to make me cry from fucking me so hard... You'd love seeing mascara run down my face, hearing how whiny I am, begging you to stop because it's too much..."

Spencer leaned the side of his head against hers as his breathing picked up. "Shit," he breathed, his voice shaky.

"And you'd love to wipe the tears from my face as you fuck me even harder, telling me to take it like a good girl..."

That was all it took for him to finally finish. Y/N was prepared, lifting up his shirt so that he could cum mostly on his stomach. She moaned right along with him, using her other hand to stroke his jaw as he came. She watched with wonder and adoration as the thick, white substance landed in perfect splatters all over his stomach.

His hand slowed to a stop once he was finished, and Y/N pressed a soft, sensual kiss to jaw, right before turning his face to meet hers. He kissed her lazily, their tongues both colliding with soft strokes that grew heavier on Y/N's part until Spencer pulled away.

She whined at the loss of contact, and he laughed softly. "You didn't really think this through, did you?"

"Uh-uh," she replied with another whine, burying her face in his shoulder.

He laughed again and kissed the top of her head. She still held his shirt up to his chest so it wouldn't get messy, so he sat up off the headboard a little and pulled it all the way off, tossing it to the floor. "I gotta get cleaned up. Maybe when I'm done we should get you into a cold shower."

She stuck her tongue out at him before an idea struck her. Spencer was about to get up, but she grabbed his arm. "Wait. Let me help."

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't stop her when she brought her fingers to his stomach, scooping up some of his cum and bringing it to her lips, smearing it there for a moment before cleaning it all off. She looked him in the eye the entire time, though that clearly gave away how frustrated she still was that she couldn't get herself off.

"That didn't help you at all, did it?" Spencer mused.

Y/N pouted. "No..."

He kissed her on the head again before getting out of bed. "I'm gonna go run you a shower, okay? How cold do you want it?"

"Very cold."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader smut

[paradoxlemonade]

Perspective of a Problem

Fandom: Hermitcraft

Ships: Scar/Grian

words: 2486

Warnings: couples’ fight/arguing, yelling

Ao3: Here!

Bdubs glared over at his fellow builders with enough ire to melt lead. This is not what he had in mind when Grian invited him to help build a town hall.

“No, I said by the big tree! Listen to what I’m saying!” Grian snapped at Scar.

He agreed on a creative endeavor with two experts, not an uncomfortable witness to a lover’s quarrel.

“Oh, because you’re such a great listener!” Scar shot back.

“I’m such a— And what does that mean?”

“Nothing you’d want to hear!”

The two of them continued to bicker. Bdubs hit his head against the banister with a groan and considered death by kinetic energy.

If it was any consolation, the building looked wonderful. Scar detailed the landscape with a trained eye that only came with practice, so the lush hill breathed with life. The brick and sandstone government building radiated dignity. Despite the maturity of the build, Bdubs felt welcomed in the foyer.

He felt less welcomed as he stepped outside to hear Grian and Scar still locked at arms, now on opposite sides of the plot. They didn’t notice his arrival and continued sniping at each other. Bdubs pinched the bridge of his nose and reminded himself that smacking sense into his friends won’t work.

“You’re the one who asked me to help, but it seems like you don’t actually care about my input!”

“You’re exaggerating! I just—”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Scar said with a scowl. He turned and flared his elytra. “I’m leaving since I’m so clearly wanted here.”

“Wait! Scar—!” He didn’t acknowledge Grian’s pleads as he took off for the jungle.

Grian stared at the spot Scar was moments ago, arms pulled tight around his chest.

Bdubs bit his lip and weighed his options. Walk back inside and pretend he missed the fight? Or go comfort Grian? After a moment’s deliberation, he sighed and strolled down the steps into Grian’s line of sight.

“So what’s causing the trouble in paradise? The two of you were tense all morning and then this happens.”

Grian groaned and buried his face in his hands. “That’s the thing, I’m not sure what happened. He says I was flirting with a merchant in the world hub, but I swear I wasn’t.”

Bdubs hummed and mulled that over. “Why don’t we sit down and you can tell me about it” He dropped onto one of the steps and patted the stone to his right. “While I am in no way qualified to give romantic advice, I’ve been in enough friendships and I think the same things apply.”

Grian slumped next to Bdubs and propped himself up. “Okay, it went exactly like this...”

****************

Grian and Scar wandered around the marketplace and marveled at the oddities from other worlds. Impossible trinkets and treasures decorated colorful stalls as the merchants running them shouted and vied for attention.

Scar tugged on Grian’s sleeve and pointed at a table covered in gemstones. He grinned and said, “I need to check that out! I know you don’t care about pretty rocks, so feel free to wander around and window shop.”

Grian gave his boyfriend a thumbs-up. “Okay, message me when you’re done!” The two of them split up. Grian turned and sped down a side road, a specific destination in mind.

An hour ago, they’d passed a booth selling various magical elytra with a myriad of unique properties. Scar pulled him away from it since neither of them had that kind of coin, but Grian needed to at least observe it. The elytra that caught his eye was crimson and speckled with orange bursts. Allegedly, the feathers would react to the user’s thoughts and function like real wings. Grian didn’t have enough coins for something of that caliber, but he had to get a closer look at it.

After a right, three lefts, two more rights, an accidental circle, a backtrack, and one last right, the stall finally appeared. It was only an aisle over from the rock booth.

Grian ran his fingers over the downy feathers. Electric magic crackled in their spines. The colors melted together and shone in the sunlight. He grinned at the unfamiliar sensation.

“I see you have a fine eye for wings,” a smooth-voiced man said from Grian’s left. He turned to face the person in question and caught eyes with the merchant who owned the stand, a tall man with tan overalls and thick hair pulled back into a braid. He smiled and gestured to the pair in Grian’s hand. “Those are infused with phoenix feathers, from the Faunicion Wastes. Enchanted it myself. Only the most skilled flyers can handle wings like these.”

Grian laughed. “I’m the best flyer in my world. No one’s beaten me in recent memory.”

The man crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “And how many people are in your world?”

Grian flushed and gave the man a crooked smile, placing the wings back on the rack. “Not many, but I’m still great!”

The merchant chuckled. “I’ll need to see that to believe it—” he extended an arm—“The name’s Sable.”

He shook the man’s hand. “I’m Grian.”

The two of them shared conversation for a note longer, but Sable’s gaze kept wandering away from Grian’s face.

“You all good?” he asked? “You seem… distracted.”

Sable sighed and shook his head. “It’s nothing.” He paused for a moment and then asked: “Where did you buy your sweater? I don’t think I know that style.”

Grian beamed and pulled at the bottom hem. “Oh, I made it myself. I’m not very good at knitting though, so it’s a bit tighter than it’s supposed to be.”

He chuckled. “No, I think that’s at least half the appeal.”

Grian went to respond, but another voice cut him off. “Hey babe, I got some geodes.” He turned to see Scar giving him a tight smile. Oops, he was probably annoyed he had to walk all over the market to find him.

Grian grinned and wrapped an arm around his boyfriend’s waist. “Hey, Scar! I’m pretty much done here, I’m just chatting.” He pointed with his free hand to the shopkeeper. “This is Sable. He knows so much about elytras, it’s crazy.”

Scar gave the man a look Grian couldn’t place. “Charmed.”

Sable turned away and coughed into his fist. “Nice to meet you.”

As soon as Grian and Scar left Sable’s earshot, Scar muttered under his breath, “I can’t believe he flirted with you.”

Grian’s brain froze and rebooted. “What are you talking about? Flirting? No way.”

Scar stopped walking and gave him an incredulous look. “So you say he wasn’t checking you out at all? Right.”

They went back and forth, accusing and denying, but making no progress. Frustration built in Grian’s stomach. They weren’t flirting! He only had eyes for Scar, so even if Sable held interest, he sure didn’t!

The two of them parted ways when they arrived back in Hermitcraft. They hardly spoke for three days until Grian broached the waters by asking Scar to join the town hall project. A lot of good that did.

****************

Scar ignored the tears pricking in the corners of his eyes in favor of the needle-sharp wind running claws across his face as he flew away from the shopping district. The town hall. Grian.

What was happening to them? Their relationship? Why did he feel so bad about everything?

As soon as Scar touched down in the jungle, he hid inside of Larry’s shell and pretended that none of this was his fault.

About half an hour passed when a knocking sound came from outside. Scar warily uncurled himself and got off his bed. He opened the door. A concerned Cub hung on the ladder to get up.

“Cub? What are you doing here?”

He gave him a wry smile. “Can’t I just visit my best friend for no reason?” Scar raised his eyebrow but invited him into the shell. “I am here with a purpose though. Let’s say news travels fast. How’s Grian?”

Scar cringed and shook his head. “It hasn’t been great.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” Cub asked with a shrug. “I may not know romance, but I know you.”

Scar sighed and rubbed his temples. “Alright, it happened like this...”

****************

Scar loved the marketplace in the world hub. Unfamiliar worlds operated on outlandish rules, so he couldn’t guess what kinds of wares he would find.

“I wish I had the coins to buy one of those elytra,” Grian said with a sigh. “Imagine how great of a flyer I’d be with an upgrade.”

Scar snickered and gently tugged Grian away from the feathery booth. “You’re enough of a troublemaker with a regular elytra.”

“And don’t you forget it!”

The two of them laughed together as they browsed the stalls, Grian only bringing up the upgraded wings on occasion.

Something sparkled in the corner of Scar’s eye. Crystals and gemstones resting on a table ahead caught the light of the sun and shimmered.

He gave Grian’s sleeve a quick pull and pointed at the booth in question. “I need to check that out! I know you don’t care about pretty rocks, so feel free to wander around and window shop.”

Grian flashed him a smile. “Okay, message me when you’re done!” He turned down another path and disappeared into the crowd.

After perusing their stock, Scar bought an amethyst geode to use as a decoration in Larry the Snail.

He pulled out his communicator and sent a few messages to Grian.

After ten minutes of standing awkwardly in front of the rock booth, it was clear Scar wouldn’t get a response. He rolled his eyes and started walking. He had a hunch where his boyfriend wandered off to.

Sure enough, Grian was by the merchant selling wings. He wasn’t, however, paying the slightest bit of attention to them as he chatted up the seller.

Scar stepped closer, staying out of Grian’s line of sight so he wouldn’t look like he was eavesdropping.

“Are you good?” Grian asked the man. “You seem… distracted.” Scar looked up to see the man studying Grian up and down, just short of undressing him with his eyes. Scar’s fists tightened with territorial instincts. That’s his boyfriend!

The man sighed with a smile. “It’s nothing. Where did you buy your sweater? I don’t think I know that style.”

Grian perked up and said, “Oh, I made it myself. I’m not very good at knitting though, so it’s a bit tighter than it’s supposed to be.” The man bit his lip in appreciation.

“No, I think that’s at least half the appeal.”

That’s it. Scar ignored the blood roaring in his ears and walked over with a smile on his face. “Hey babe, I got some geodes!” Grian turned and lit up as if he wasn’t receptive to the man’s come-ons.

Grian gave him a side hug, but Scar didn’t melt into his touch like usual. “Hey, Scar! I’m pretty much done here, I’m just chatting.” He pointed with his free hand to the shopkeeper. “This is Sable. He knows so much about elytras, it’s crazy.”

Scar targeted the man a withering glower. “Charmed.”

Sable’s eyes widened. He turned away and tried to act like he wasn’t flirting with a taken man. “Nice to meet you.”

“Perhaps we will meet again, though my boyfriend and I have somewhere to be,” Scar said coldly. He glanced at Grian. “Ready to go?”

Grian nodded in affirmation, and the they left to go to their world. If he noticed Scar’s stiffened grip on his arm, then he didn’t say anything.

“I can’t believe he flirted with you,” Scar muttered with a decisive scowl at the ground in front of him.

Grian’s pace faltered. “What are you talking about? Flirting? No way!” Dread pooled in Scar’s stomach. Was he seriously defending Sable? Why would he try to cover for him? ... Unless he was into it?

Scar planted his feet and tried to keep the obvious feelings of betrayal off his face. “So you say he wasn’t checking you out at all? Right.”

Grain continued to deny, deny, deny. He pretended it never happened!

As soon as they stepped through the portal back into hermitcraft, they took off in opposite directions. They needed time.

****************

Bdubs hummed, and the gears clicked in his mind. It’s too obvious. “Grian, you’re about as observant as a brick.”

****************

Cub nodded along as he spoke. “So what do you think?” Scar asked. “Am I in the wrong here?”

“You jumped to conclusions.”

****************

“What—brick? Hey!” Grian crossed his arms and pouted. “I asked for advice, not insults.”

“I can do both at once!” Bdubs waved his hands. “Never mind, just consider this for a moment: Scar felt bad because of Sable. You ignored his feelings. He got upset.”

Realization dawned over Grian. He drew up his legs and thumped his forehead against his knees. “I’m so stupid.”

****************

“What do you mean?”

Cub chewed on his lip. “Did you see Grian flirt, or was it just Sable?”

“But it was so obvious! He would have said something if he didn’t want to flirt!”

Cub gave him a deadened look. “This is Grian we’re talking about. How long did you two pine over each other because you thought the other was uninterested? I’d bet anything Grian didn’t realize Sable was flirting.”

Scar opened and closed his mouth like a fish, trying to come up with a decent comeback. After a moment he settled on: “I need to apologize to Grian.”

****************

Scar hunted all over the server for Grian, but his boyfriend made himself scarce after their big fight. Anxiety bit at his mind and whispered that Grian was sick of him, but Scar shook his head. No more jumping to conclusions. That’s what got him in this mess, and he will not let it drag him down any further.

Funnily enough, he found Grian when he wasn’t looking. Scar just finished filling the dirt bin in his plant store when a red blur rushed overhead. Scar followed the figure to where it landed.

It was Grian, restocking his sand and gravel shop. Hope blossomed in Scar’s chest as he raced over.

He slowed as he approached Grian, the nerves returning in a rush. “H-hey, Grian.”

Grian jumped at the sudden sound and whirled around to face him. “Scar? Aren’t you still mad at me?”

He shook his head with fervor. “No!” Scar ran a hand through his hair and took a breath. “I shouldn’t have gotten upset in the first place. I was just insecure!”

Scar looked away to avoid Grian’s expression. He couldn’t handle it if he rejected him after everything.

Grian knocked the wind out of Scar as he crushed his boyfriend in a surprise hug. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

Scar hugged back. “In a minute.”

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