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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR FOUR

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

→ wc: 3.8+

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

4:00 ──ㅇ──────────────── 24:00

BIRDIE created a groupchat.

BIRDIE added DINGUS, NANCE, JOHNNY, & ARGYLE 😎

DINGUS: why the fuck is my name dingus

BIRDIE: so… are we going to talk about how in love they look in that photo?

NANCE: Eddie looks like he’s going to commit a federal crime, Robin.

DINGUS: how do i change my name

ARGYLE 😎: a sign of true love my friends

BIRDIE: @NANCE SEE? he gets it.

JOHNNY: Is this chat really necessary?

DINGUS: guys seriously. how the fuck do i change my name?

—

HOUR FOUR - 7:00 PM

Let the record show that you don’t normally care about Lord of the Rings. You’d seen the movies out of obligation to your friends, nothing more, nothing less. You usually held complete indifference towards the trilogy. As a matter of fact, you’d nearly given Robin an aneurysm the day you’d informed them all you preferred the Hobbit trilogy over the original movies.

Eddie, it seems, holds a similar sentiment to Robin.

“I can’t believe you just said that to me,” he sighs dramatically, sinking into the couch and looking far more comfortable than he had previously. A bottle of cheap beer dangles carelessly in his hand. He’d decided to grab both of you one the moment this argument had begun, “You casually bring up Gandalf, and then you proceed to have the worst opinions on the greatest franchise of all time. A crime against humanity.”

“I’m sorry,” you say sincerely through genuine laughter.

You were laughing. You were sitting on Eddie Munson’s couch, in his apartment, laughing with him rather than at him. It was a fluke in the system, a blip in the Universe. You tell yourself it’s just the effects of the beer.

“What’s next? You tell me you prefer Star Wars over Star Trek? Or, let me guess, you’ve never read the books?”

He looks nice like this, at ease. This hour might be setting the track record for the longest the two of you had gone without insulting one another, and you begin to wonder why you’d never been able to hold such a civil conversation with him before tonight. The two of you might not be agreeing or seeing completely eye to eye, but there was enough agreement to keep the entire debate chugging along.

He notices your silence as you take a sip of the beer you’ve nearly polished off, smirking around the rim of it, a bit of beer lingering at the corner of your mouth. “Oh my God. You’ve never read the books.”

“I never said that!”

“You never said you did!”

Your mouth is open, fighting back at the curl of the corners, unable to defend yourself because he was right. “I- Who even reads anymore?”

“Excuse me?” his voice pitches as he sits up straight suddenly, “Oh, no. There’s no way you just said that. There’s no way you don’t read.”

You shrug, and his beer is quickly set to the side.

“C’mon, everyone reads. You’ve got to have a guilty pleasure book.”

“Nope,” you tuck your bottle between your thighs, and catch the way his eyes had followed the bottle before snapping back to yours, “I just prefer the movies, I guess.”

“No one prefers the movies. You’re a goddamn liar,” he shakes his head and some of the frizzy curls fall against his collar bones rather than continuing to tickle his shoulders, “You have to read something. Romance novels, boring essays, the news. Hell, even magazines or that written porn shi-” he cuts off when you smile at the mention of magazines. “Why are you smiling like that? Stop it. It’s creepy. Do you read those porno books?”

“God, no,” you laugh. A lie - you’d certainly read excerpts from Fifty Shades of Grey he was referencing to understand what the hype was to no prevail, “Just ironic you bring up magazines. You probably consider yourself a real connoisseur, don’t you?”

He flushes crimson. His cheeks that had tinged pink from the warmth of the beer are now flaming red. “I have no idea what you mean.”

He clearly did.

“Right,” you drawl, “So which article in that Playboy caught your eye? The one about the psychological deep dive into what makes sex so great, or the interview with that one porn star? No, wait, I got it! It was totally the one that gave fifteen ways to drive a girl crazy-”

“It’s not a fucking Seventeen magazine,” he snaps, but the malice in his voice is dull, “There’s no lists on how to get the girl, it’s a porn ‘zine, Jesus H. Christ.”

“I know that, do you?” you press, reveling in the brush crawling its way down the side of his neck.

He runs a hand over his face, groaning, “I’m not even going to entertain you with an answer. Fuck off.”

“Do you just ignore all the photos of the beautiful women?” you don’t hold back your teasing, subconsciously leaning his way as your voice lilts with sarcasm, “Ignoring all those bushes? Or maybe you just prefer the Brazilian cut?”

“I liked it better when we were talking about your illiteracy,” he deadpans, staring straight ahead at his entertainment center.

“I never said I couldn’t read, just that I choose not to most of the time,” you finally pull back a bit, scared to push it all too far. You pull your legs up beneath you on the couch and move the beer that has gone warm to the table on the opposite end as his, “Sue me for trying to make friendly conversation.”

You await his expected response about how this was not friendly conversation. You start to do mental gymnastics of a way to bring up the specific model he had marked the pages of, of the eerie resemblance she bears to you and a way to push his buttons regarding it. This conversation was following your script, not his.

Or at least, it was.

“Fine. I prefer the bush, I always find the lack of hair kind of weird,” he says, throwing you off your game effectively. He stares at you with now expecting eyes, “What about you?”

You’re grateful you’d stopped nursing the beer, or you surely would have choked, “What?”

“What’s your preference?” he clarifies, not backing down, “On yourself, on partners. Whatever.”

“I- I don’t- I never-” you stumble over your words, at a complete loss for an answer. It only makes him smirk as he’s now the one leaning in closer, close enough to catch the smell of his cologne concentrated on him.

You hadn’t realized you’d adjusted the boyish smell of the apartment until this very moment.

“See? Not so fun when you’re the one getting asked the personal questions.”

He’s right – you shouldn’t dish out what you can’t handle him throwing back into your face.

“Fine,” you mimic him, squaring your shoulders, “Bush.”

“On yourself or others?”

“Myself,” there was no use in being shy now, “But also on, uh, partners. Kind of unfair to expect something from someone I wouldn’t give in return.”

He nods in surprising consideration at the notion. His face twists as if he’s taking words you’d thrown out there so carelessly to heart, as if there’s some hidden message that even you hadn’t realized was laced in the notion. For a moment, you start to believe he’s committing the words to memory before he answers you.

“That’s fair,” is all he says.

A moment of intense thought for that?

“What? That’s all you’ve got to say?” you scoff, and busy yourself with the beer again out of nerves. It’s warm and bitter on your tongue, but it’s better than looking him in the eyes. Warm, honey eyes you’d never really cared to notice before.

“Yeah,” he lifts his shoulders into an offhand shrug, “I mean, what else is there to say? Like you said, you can’t expect something from someone you can’t return.”

Another silence drags out, and this time, it’s stifling. You never thought you’d live to see the day where Eddie being quiet would bother you, but it does. The lack of words in the air is leaving too much room for thought from both of you. It’s giving you too much time to think on those warm, honey eyes and those damn dimples. Trivial things about Eddie that you don’t care to remember past tonight.

“My friend collects vintage Playboys,” you blurt out, internally cursing yourself immediately. What a stupid conversation segway.

Should have teased him about the dog-eared pages, you regretfully think as you dare to look his way.

His face is surprisingly smooth, eyebrows quirking up into the frayed edges of his bangs, “Oh really?”

You nod, “Yeah. Hell of a lot more bushes in the seventies.”

A lot less of that model you like, you silently add, once more not voicing that concern out loud.

The dimples return. Those fucking dimples. “Hm, guess I should check them out, then.”

“She collects them for aesthetic purposes,” you continue to ramble, filling the air, unsure of why you’re even defending yourself. You’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Eddie to dissect the small piece of your life you’ve offered, “It’s… It’s really cool, actually.”

“It sounds cool,” he agrees gently.

The other shoe is left dangling in the air, if it even continues to exist.

You think about his earlier question, of whether you really wanted to keep up a miserable act for the entire twenty four hours. If the last hour hadn’t already solidified your answer, you knew now for a matter of fact that he had a point, even if he did proceed to insult you after the question. You didn’t want to spend this time miserable. The passing of time came easier when it was like this, all rounded-edged banter and friendly words exchanged. When Eddie Munson wasn’t being an asshole and making personal digs at you, he was actually a nice person to have around.

You’d never tell him that, of course.

“It’s why I collect all that,” he motions his hand towards the shelving of figurines and trinkets, “I just think it’s cool, you know? I… Uh, I sort of lied earlier. Most of that shit isn’t that expensive. But it’s not about how much it’s worth money-wise, it’s just worth a lot to… to me.”

A glimpse of crimson, a flash of vulnerability that proves that Eddie has a heart just as you do. It beats erratically, and it can bleed just the same.

“That makes sense,” you offer in response. You may not get it, but you wouldn’t push his buttons on the topic. They may be nothing but clutter from your perspective, but the same could be said about the vintage Playboys your friend collects. The same could be said about plenty of things that are sentimental to you. “Doesn’t it get creepy, though? Like, you bring home a girl-”

“Or a guy,” he interjects, making you smile.

“You bring home a girl, or a guy, and you’ve just got Gandalf staring you down while you make a move. Or�� Or, Darth Vader?” you squint to pinpoint another figurine, “Is that Darth Vader? Didn’t you say Star Trek is better than Star Wars?”

“Never said that,” he points at you with a tilt of his head, “I just don’t prefer Star Wars over Star Trek.”

“Have you seen Star Wars? It’s way more entertaining.”

“Have you seen Star Trek?” he counters, but it’s clearly rhetorical as he continues on, “I like both. Having a preference for one doesn’t mean I’m completely against the other. Besides, the light saber effects are fucking incredible.”

“So you prefer the prequels?” you ask eagerly.

“I guess. I mean, the original trilogy is still badass and a classic,” he stands abruptly, and you’re worried you’ve said something wrong, but he just walks over to the Darth Vader figurine to pick it up and bring it back over with him as he flings down onto the couch, now several spaces closer to you rather than opposing ends, “It’s kind of hard to beat the ‘Luke, I am your father’ reveal,” his voice dips down to a deep tone, a fairly spot on impersonation, “But it was also nice seeing his origin story.”

“Plus Ewan McGregor and Hayden Christensen are gorgeous,” you add, almost daring to lean over and bump shoulders with him. But you don’t. You keep what little space remains between the two of you.

“Of course,” Eddie rolls his eyes, “The eye candy is what gets you.”

“And the cool effects!”

“Right. Next you’re going to say you definitely watched for the plot, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“And the plot’s name just happens to be Ewan.”

You bite down the grin that starts to ache your cheeks, because you’re not supposed to smile around Eddie this much. “Now you’re getting it.”

The hand holding the Darth Vader figurine suddenly thrusts out in your direction, and you find yourself jumping a bit. When you don’t take it, he waves it around a bit, raising an eyebrow, “It doesn’t bite, you know.”

“You said to not touch your shit.”

It’s a pathetic lie, you both know it. But he doesn’t know how scared you are to brush fingertips with him, how the way his arm being so close has electricity buzzing from the soles of your feet to the crown of your head. One small shift, one outreached hand, and your skin would brush his.

It would surely be nuclear. An explosion with no survivors, least of all you.

“Oh, c’mon. You’ve disregarded that rule the entire time, why start being a goody two shoes now?” he teases.

Which is fine, except Eddie teases a certain way – with his entire body. His knee knocks into yours, he leans into your space, a boyish grin spreads over his lips. You’ve seen him dance around this kind of lighthearted conversation with everyone else in your friend group except you. It’s uncharted territory, and your heart nearly breaks out of your chest from its rapid racing.

You’re just lucky that there’s two layers of jeans between your knees. The nuclear explosion will have to wait for another day.

Instead of an answer, you reach out and grab the figurine nimbly by the small leg. Your fingertips narrowly evade Eddie’s and you’re eternally grateful and his arm retracts. You poke and prod, gently wiggling the red, flexible stick that serves as his lightsaber and pinch at the edges of his cape.

In your silence, Eddie speaks, “It’s not a crazy collectible or anything, like I said. It probably would have been more valuable to keep it in its packaging, but one time Wheeler brought his little sister over while they were in town, and she wanted to see him out of the box, so I took him out. You know Wheeler, right?”

You shake your head, inspecting the figurine even closer now. It still looks brand new; you’d never be able to tell that a child, presumably, had played with the ‘toy’.

“Oh,” Eddie looks taken back, faltering slightly, “Sorry, I- I just sort of assumed that…. You, uh…. You had met Steve’s children.”

“Oh!” your head shoots up from where your nose had been nearly pressed into the figure, taking in the detailing of the chest piece, “You mean Mike? I’ve heard about him, yeah. Just in passing, though.”

There’s more for Eddie to say, it’s clear in the way his mouth falls open with the corners quirked, but then you’re interrupted by a phone ringing.

Your phone.

Steve’s contact photo occupies the screen for the second time tonight, a ridiculous photo of him scowling at the camera in a yellow jumper while holding a can of pringles in front of him, one of his hands bringing a single chip to his pouting lips.

“Let me answer it,” Eddie insists, holding out his hand as you stare down at the phone, still chiming annoyingly.

“Were they supposed to call this often?” you ask, knowing well enough that Eddie didn’t have the answer.

His hand waves in impatience, and you don’t put up a fight as you let him take the phone and swipe the answering bar, focusing instead on the Darth Vader discarded into your lap as he puts the call on speaker.

“Hello?” Eddie answers in a chirpy tone.

“How many times do we have to te- hold on. Munson?” Steve starts off aggressive, but his tone melts into confusion, “Why the hell are you answering her phone?”

“Because I’ve murdered her,” he flatly replies, but his face doesn’t match his tone at all.

He fucking winks at you. Your grip on Darth Vader tightens until you’re afraid you're about to snap it.

“Not funny.”

“Not a joke.”

“Where is she, Eddie?” Steve sighs like an irritated parent, in no mood for games, “Please tell me you didn’t manage to make her lock herself in a room again.”

“I told you. She’s gone. Sacrificed to the Dark Lord or whatever. Just got to go dump her body in the lake-”

You shouldn’t joke along with him, but you still whisper the correction of, “The canals.”

“Sorry, I mean the canals.”

Another deep sigh. You can picture the way Steve was currently pinching the bridge of his nose at the two of you.

“I heard her, you idiot. Now that we know you’re both clearly alive and well…. Where the hell is our photo proof?”

You both share a look, and you quickly mouth, already?

Eddie shrugs and mouths back, I guess.

“We lost track of time,” you finally say out loud, still locked in eye contact with Eddie. His brown eyes are surprisingly captivating, several autumn shades all woven together. Burnt orange leaves, red apples, brown sweaters. You never thought you’d be able to see a season in someone’s irises, yet here you were, picturing it clear as day. “Let us hang up and we’ll send the photo.”

Steve starts to speak, but Eddie’s thumb is quick to end the call. The moment your lock screen stares back at both of you, you look at the time.

7:41. Shit.

“Oops,” Eddie whispers as he hands the phone back over, “They really gave us quite the grace period that time.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, quickly opening your damn camera app. “So, how do we want to do this one?”

Eddie thinks for a moment before he launches himself back to his side of the couch, and motions for you to toss him your phone.

And once again, you put your faith in him, not even hesitating this time.

It happens naturally; you both mirror each other, drawing up your knees, your sock-clad toes bumping firmly against one another. Your back is supported by the worn arm behind you, similar to how Eddie’s is, as you face him.

He quickly angles the camera towards you, sticking a hand out into the frame while raising his middle finger. You don’t know what to do, so one hand holds up the Darth Vader as the other mimics flipping him off.

A soft click from your phone. The photo’s taken, and you’re not even sure if you were smiling.

“Trade,” he leans forward, one hand holding out your phone, the other reaching out for Darth Vader.

You oblige, and go through the same process for his photo. His white socks contrast your black ones, and the corners of his lips twitch upwards no matter how hard of a line he presses them into. You can’t look at him directly, and settle for watching him through the screen as you hit the small grey button to snap the photo.

Just as quickly as he had shoved away from you, he’s back at your side, watching you send off the photos to the group chat with a thumbs up emoji. You take a deep breath, scanning over the pair of photos until it’s confirmed that they’re delivered, and lock your phone. Your brows are furrowed in your reflection staring back at you through the black screen.

“Do you really want to keep up the miserable act the entire twenty four hours?” Eddie’s voice echoes in your mind.

No, you don’t. No matter how wrong this levity with Eddie feels, no matter how uncomfortable it is each time you remember that he’s meant to be the enemy and not someone to share laughter and smiles with, you don’t want to waste these remaining twenty hours being miserable.

“What’s up?” Eddie’s actual voice echoes in real time as you continue to stare at your reflection.

“Just thinking,” you grunt. The thought of admitting your decision to Eddie is much more intimidating than simply acknowledging it to yourself.

“Dangerous.”

Instead of quipping something rude back, you decide to be vulnerable with Eddie. You decide to crack yourself open just a small bit, just as he had done microscopically when he spoke of his collection of items. It’s a dangerous gamble, and you don’t give yourself the chance to overthink it.

“You were right, earlier,” you force the words out, fighting the way they try to cling onto your tongue and remain safely in your throat.

“About… what?” He looks distrusting, and for good reason. He said plenty of things earlier - you could be preparing to remind him of any number of rude things he’d spewed.

“About keeping up the miserable act,” you explain, turning your head to him and abandoning the phone, “You were right. I don’t want to be miserable this entire time. It… It goes by faster when we’re not about to strangle each other, believe it or not.”

You swear you see his shoulders sag in relief. “Well, yeah, I could have told you that. I did tell you that, actually.”

“Shut up,” you force a scowl, “My point is… I don’t know, maybe, we could try to- try to just- we could be-”

“Civil?” he finishes the sentence you stumble over.

You nod, “Yeah. We could be civil.”

The word feels foreign on your tongue. Civility was not something you’d ever considered with Eddie, but the last hour had proven it to be possible.

“Okay,” he nods along with you. He turns his entire body to face you, knees once again bumping as he sticks out a hand for you to shake, “Deal. We will try to be civil the rest of the time.”

“Civil,” you repeat yourself again, more sure this time, still staring at his offered hand.

An olive branch. The opportunity to work together to survive the next twenty hours. The opportunity for his bare skin against yours.

You think again of nuclear explosions and pulsing electricity, of open chests and matching scarlets, of smashing glasses against walls and ruined parties, of wounds healing over in scar tissues as they glow a gentle pink.

Civil. You wonder if that’s one of the words they’ll include on your gravestone as you reach out your hand and let Eddie’s palm meet yours.

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#twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #let's see if i can get it to post in one try this time

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shanastoryteller · 10 months

Note

Happy Pride!!!! Living Blood or Lady Mo please!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43

Xuanyu disrobes unashamedly, hesitating only at the last second with the sleeve covering her left arm.

Jiang Yanli laughs. “Bit late to be modest, I think.”

“Modesty is overrated,” she returns, which is something that Zixuan would say and A-Yao would think. She slips the rest of the robes off and steps into the steaming bath, letting out a deep sigh of satisfaction.

The changes her body has undergone are even more obvious without the thick layers of the robes obscuring her form. The extra weight seems to have settled in ideal places, not only thickening her waist and limbs but settling heavily along her hips and breasts, which hadn’t exactly been small to begin with.

She sits behind Xuanyu, filling a bowl with water and then pouring it over her hair to rinse it of blood and dirt that had been hidden by her dark hair. Acting as a bathing assistant is far below her station, but Xuanyu had sent all the servants away and she doesn’t mind, really. Xuanyu is her sister, likely the only one she’ll ever have considering A-Cheng’s track record with matchmakers, and she’s been worried about her. This gives them time to speak alone. “How has your marriage with Lan Wangji been? Has he been kind?”

Xuanyu pulls a face, which isn’t encouraging. “I guess. He mostly left me alone, and then we had a couple fights and he was a jerk, and now I think he’s trying to make up for being a jerk, but it’s a little – well, it’s nice that he’s making an effort. I suppose.”

Not as good as she’d hoped, but not as bad as she’d feared. “Sect Leader Lan seems fond of you.”

“Oh, Lan Xichen is great,” she says easily. Better than reaction to Lan Wangji, but still not what Jiang Yanli had been hoping for. Then her eyes light up. “Sizhui is wonderful! I’ll give Wangji one thing, he’s raised a good kid. He’s so sweet, and a great cultivator, and he’s always trying to help out everyone around him. I’m glad Jingyi’s always hanging around – without him, I think everyone would just take advantage of Sizhui’s good nature.”

Well, that’s something. Surely Lan Wangji can’t resist Xuanyu’s charms for long, not when she dotes on his son and gets along with his brother.

“What trouble did you get into on the road?” she asks, running her hand over the wound on Xuanyu’s shoulder. It looks nearly fully healed already and there’s another mostly healed wound on her hip, a thin slice on her left arm, and the shadow of various bruises that were likely much worse a couple hours ago. It’s of course a good thing that Xuanyu has a strong golden core, but Jiang Yanli can’t help a moment of wistfulness.

Her own core never lived up to her mother’s expectations, or her own. If she’d had a stronger core, she could have given A-Ling siblings. A child should have siblings. She would have had a calmer childhood without two little brothers underfoot, but a lonelier one too.

Xuanyu shrugs, lazily scrubbing herself down. “Looks like Xiao Xingchen picked up the girl, A-Qing, while he and Song Lan were separated and was trapped in this place that was basically a ghost town.” How could he be trapped by a place that had no people? “And I’d heard some rumors so when we ran into Song Lan I helped him find Xiao Xingchen, but there was a bit of a fight with someone who didn’t want him to leave. I just happened to get caught in the crossfire, so to speak.”

She’s stretching the truth to outright lying. Before Jiang Yanli can call her on it, her stomach growls.

“Didn’t get a chance to eat on the road?” she teases.

Xuanyu flushes, ducking briefly beneath the water to hide her flaming cheeks before resurfacing. “Things were a little hectic. It may have slipped my mind.”

How has she managed to put on weight while also forgetting to eat? Perhaps Lan Wangji deserves more credit.

“I think I have some candies in my room, if you want something before the banquet,” she offers. “I know the speeches take forever.”

Her eyes light up before dimming and she slumps in the bath. “Thanks, Yanli-jie, but I better not. Sizhui gave me some on the road and I usually love them but just putting it in my mouth almost made me sick. It was awful. And weird! They’re my favorite.”

Jiang Yanli blinks then gives Xuanyu’s significantly larger chest a considering look. It could be nothing. It’s probably nothing. She hasn’t even been married a year and it doesn’t sound as if she and Lan Wangji have been seeing eye to eye.

Then again, the same could have been said about her and Zixuan.

“Can I ask you something personal, Meimei?”

Xuanyu nods. “You can ask me anything, Yanli-jie.”

“Are you and Lan Wangji having sex?”

She turns bright red and ducks beneath the water for so long that Jiang Yanli is starting to get concerned before she resurfaces, still red faced. “Um. We did once. Well – I guess, technically, it was three times, but it was only one night.”

Well. Apparently Lan Wangji has stamina on and off the battlefield.

“One moment,” she says, briefly squeezing Xuanyu’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

It takes one whispered conversation with the servant outside the hall and approximately ninety seconds before her personal healer is standing in front of her. Jiang Yanli ducks back inside to see Xuanyu out of the bath, in a thin bathing robe that’s clinging to her as she wrings her hair out. “I’d like my healer to take a look at you, Meimei.”

Xuanyu freezes, slowly standing straight with a wary look on her face. “That’s really not necessary. The wounds were just superficial and they’re basically healed already.”

“It’ll be quick,” she says, because if she’s right then she can’t let Xuanyu go down to the banquet without letting her know. “She’s very discreet – she’s been my personal healer since I was a child.”

“Jiang Xingyi?” Xuanyu asks, some of her tension draining away.

Jiang Yanli nods, trying to think of some reason that Xuanyu would know her healer’s name, or her reputation, but all the servants are terrible gossips and her health is a frequent topic of derision. “Just your wrist, okay? Your golden core has changed a lot. I just want her to take a look.”

She feels bad about lying, but Xuanyu had lied to her first.

Xuanyu relaxes even further. “Okay, Yanli-jie. If it’ll make you feel better.”

“Thank you,” she smiles, then opens the door to usher Jiang Xingyi in.

The old woman doesn’t smile, but Xuanyu grins back undeterred, and says, “Hi, Granny,” before paling and adding, “uh, um. Sorry.”

Jiang Yanli feels a familiar pang of grief go through her. A-Xian had referred to Jiang Xingyi as Granny, the only disciple both bold and beloved enough to get away with it.

Jiang Xingyi ignores her, instead reaching for her wrist and pressing her fingers against it. Xuanyu fidgets, shifting from one foot to the other, but says nothing as the moments stack on top of one another.

Finally, Jiang Xingyi drops her wrist and steps back. Her stern visage breaks, a smile stretching her mouth across her face. “Congratulations, Madame Lan.”

She knew it!

“Thanks,” Xuanyu answers before wrinkling her nose. “Um. For what?”

“You are expecting,” she answers. “At least a couple months along, I believe, although I’d have to do a more thorough examination to be sure.”

Jiang Yanli moves to embrace her, but Xuanyu’s face drops and she turns dangerously pale. “What? No. That’s not possible. I can’t be.”

“Three times,” Jiang Yanli reminds her, trying to goad Xuanyu into laughter.

But instead she just shakes her head. “No, no I can’t, I – this can’t be happening,” she whispers to herself, grabbing her own arms in a white knuckled grip. “It’s not. It’s impossible. I can’t be.”

She’s young, and this wasn’t a marriage of her own choosing, and it’s so new. Of course she’s surprised and nervous. Jiang Yanli touches her elbow, intending to say something soothing, but Xuanyu collapses into her arms, gripping her waist and hiding her tears in her shoulder.

“Xuanyu!” she says, hugging her back just as fiercely, her heart breaking for the younger girl’s anguish. “Meimei, it’s okay, I know this is scary, but it’s going to be fine.”

“It’s not,” she says, voice thick with tears, “A-jie, this is awful, this is – it can’t happen! It can’t, Wangji is going to be so mad, he’s going to hate me, and everything is ruined and awful, I can’t be – I can’t! I’m going to die!”

Jiang Yanli’s whole body goes cold and she grips Xuanyu even tighter against her. “You’re going to be fine,” she says, pushing her conviction into every syllable.

No matter what Jiang Yanli has to do, Xuanyu is going to be fine.

#oh wwx #our babygirl is going through it #dw everything is going to be fine #wwx is like i'm going to die before i can have this baby and kill lan zhan's baby and he's going to hate me forever #and jyl who obviously has no context for this hears that xuanyu thinks that lwj is going to kill her #which she'd think that lwj would never do but also she saw him during war and she's not the one married to him #and everyone knows he didn't want this marriage and also made a big thing about how sizhui's position won't be usurped #jyl to herself: do i have to kill lan wangji?#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #untamed

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splitster · 5 months

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answering asks

you'll have to befriend her first sorry

chocolate was the first sweet that Pom had so it's her favorite!! she won't go nuts or anything but she is very easily manipulated if you promise her a bar of chocolate

↓ more asks under the cut!! ↓

wraithification ideally does preserve peoples memories! part of the process is forming the core that holds said memories, so as long as the process goes somewhat smoothly then the person should wake up very disorientated but with their memories and personality in tact.

naw she's thankfully immune to most elemental hazards. one of the perks of being a wraith!

YEAHH i've been trying to keep up with the comics! this comic is a bit old at this point but i'm so glad bald dingo is canon 💖

i think it'd be funny so yeah sure

there is always an inherent risk to the process. i'd say the absolute ideal circumstances you could have would be if a wraith like pom and a doctor like yonny were working together to increase the likelihood of survival. the process hasn't been studied at all, given the rarity of wraiths as an organism and the added rarity of a wraith becoming so attached to a creature that it wants to convert it.

there is a metaphysical aspect to wraiths as a species that defies understanding, so the person being wraithified or the wraith themselves having a strong will for survival would definitely contribute to the success of it. thankfully, unless there's a VERY specific set of circumstances (that are relevant only with someone like yonny wraith who has two cores), the subject would fall unconscious and not form memories of the wraithification itself (which is fortunate, because that would be kinda horrifying).

if she's saving dingo and this is a last ditch effort, pom absolutely puts her whole being into it. it's very, very hard on her and she has every last bit of energy sapped from her. depending on her reserves, she could end up hurting herself with the amount of energy it requires. but wounds are temporary and death is forever, so pom would persevere through and give it her all to save him

yeah! pom's skin might technically be fake because it's made from goo, but she still feels sensations through her goo. she probably doesn't get itchy that easily. she's probably a little ticklish? but i'm not sure if you want to try that on a wraith that could easily stab you in a heartbeat...

wow when i was looking back for this pic i realized i first posted about the pom wraith au on september 1st, so the au is like 4 months old... time flies

WAHHH THANK YOU....🥺💖 asks like this are never a bother!! my favorite part about posting my content online is the engagement like this, i'm very happy to make stuff that you and your bro can bond over

procreate on an ipad! i use an empty cheezits box and three splatoon manga books to prop up my ipad to draw on, and i've been told its one of the worst drawing arrangements ever documented, so no matter how you draw it's probably gonna be better than my set up

of course! i didn't like... invent wraiths or anything. i just expanded on the little tidbits of what we know about wraiths in the pikmin universe. anyone is free to make their own wraith ocs or their own headcanons on what wraiths are

whuh... have i? i post pretty frequently. i used to post a bunch for a week or two and then disappear for 6+ months repeatedly so this is very good compared to my historical track record lol

AHH thank you!! i'm glad that i can inspire!

thank yall for all the asks, i'll continue getting through them... slowly

#modask #pom pikmin #pom wraith au

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centrally-unplanned · 4 months

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Saw The Boy And The Heron today lads:

The first 2/3rds of the film are probably some of the best Ghibli work I have seen. It has this strong commitment to simultaneously intense realism and purely ungrounded magical realism. In particular, its fantastical elements were grounded in physicality and their own realism, not pure whimsy. Its worldbuilding is done as much as possible on the artistic level.

The last 1/3rd does collapse into typical Ghibli-ism - essentially its a story that lacked a strong focus on plot, but then decided it couldn't commit so whipped one up. The first part is like an adult Miyazaki's Alice in Wonderland; and then it transitions to a child's version. Still fun, but disappointing.

I definitely liked the Shinya Ohira fire scene as much as the next dude but y'all sakugabros are fucking obsessed, it was not that big of a scene in the movie lol. I personally found its most standout artistic choices to be in the backgrounds & design work - as other works have 'caught up' with the animation detail that older Ghibli films, with their budget & talent, used to stand out on, those elements is where their comparative advantage now lie imo.

This is twice now Miyazaki has teased me with a grounded, fully realized period piece about the politics and society of wartime Japan and then veered off into a totally different story and I am irate, I am pissed, he is so good at depicting its intricacies just fucking commit!!

Speaking of, there are multiple references to when "the war" began and they are all pointing to 1941 - apparently 4 years of war with China doesn't count! This isn't out of step with Japanese historiographic periodization or anything, just very amusing.

There was more than one moment where I thought I was inexplicably keeping up my recent track record of stumbling onto incest media; Himi gave out vibes, man.

Overall very good, I definitely recommend it. It certainly as well has the air of one's "final movie" - its thematic arc is a distant parallel to End of Evangelion in a sense, where one is given the choice between fantasy and reality and chooses reality. Done infinitely less deftly than EoE, for sure, but for a movie that is an artist's almost certain last foray into the world of art in that way, its still impactful. Discourse about Miyazaki is one of those things where the quantity has a quality of its own - the extent to which people discuss and debate his work is proof of its power, and for his final movie to elevate the talents of so many others working for him, giving them reign on their own sections & ideas, before closing the door on his own contributions feels right.

Unless he makes another fucking movie of course and ruins it.

#the boy and the heron

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arkturusz · 2 months

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@cult-of-the-eye here it is, hope you like it :3

MAG[REDACTED] - Blood in the Machine

Anonymous statement, regarding the statement maker's purchase and use of a strange desktop computer. Original statement given 4th of February 2024, recording by Arcturus Walker, head archivist of the Magnus Institute, Budapest. Put to tape on the 21st of March 2024. Statement begins:

I don't want to go into details as to why I came to make this decision. It was an offer too good to be true, just what a struggling university student needed: a cheap PC with great specs and with only 2 years of usage. I know how some sellers put enticing prices on Facebook Marketplace just to drop the real deal in later messages, but that wasn't the case. The owner got his hands on "something better" and saw no use in keeping this one around so he asked for the bare minimum that would still be a deal to him.

I went to pick up the desktop, it was a city away so I drove there. It was a bit weird how creeping closer to the destination all we had were dirt roads. I live in the suburbs, I know not all city councils pay it enough attention, but these weren't those dusty solid roads. These were muddy, the tracks barely visible and overgrown with grass. No, not grass, something more- vibrant.

The roads branched off a few hundred meters from my destination, only one going in its general direction so I followed it. I reached a house, no buildings in its neighborhood, crop fields on one side, a small forest on the other, the kind that always seems way more moist than the weather would allow it and always has that smell of thick mud and insects. I could only *enjoy* that for a moment before I got hit with something else, something fleshier. It was a stench that burnt into my nostrils. I try not to judge a house by the smell, my parents were chainsmokers and I've always been more ashamed to bring friends home than it seemed they were bothered by the odor. Assuming I just met a butcher, or really just someone that keeps their own livestock I headed inside.

It felt like a hallucination, it really did. I stepped into a corridor, my lungs full of the dull yet powerful stench that covered everything. My brain felt foggy and with a headache that felt like pressure on my skull I continued inside. I was hoping to pick up the computer and get going right away, and I did my best to accomplish just that. I lifted the PC which was rather heavy and hurried back the way I came when something caught my attention. As I was putting my shoes on my brain alerted me of movement. From all around. The walls seemed to have this rhythmic pulse to them. If I wasn't at the doorstep I would've fainted, that's for sure, but I made it out to my car, telling myself it's the headache getting to me.

The drive back was nothing out of the ordinary, but that foul smell just wouldn't leave my nose. I parked, opened my boot and to no surprise the aroma oozed out of the case like a thick invisible fog, bringing back that numbing pressure that I felt earlier. I grabbed all the cleaning chemicals and similar that I could find lying around, giving it a thorough rub on the outside. I pride myself on my expertise in software, but the hardware always confused me and I never bothered to learn it. Thus I did not want to open it up, which proved to be a grave mistake.

For 6 months straight there seemed to have been no problem with the PC. It worked as intended, was just as fast as I expected and the smell was only noticeable if you got up close to sniff the case. Which I didn't. But two days ago I didn't need to either. I woke up to a strange smell. It wasn't as strong or numbing as the one I felt at the house but it certainly wasn't pleasant. We had maintenance that night, we were notified that from 10pm we should be expecting a blackout. I didn't mind, but it seemed that whatever was in my computer did not like it. I decided to give it another round of cleaning once I was done with my cup of coffee. I dressed up and went to pull out the cables on the back, but they were a lot harder to unplug than I remembered. I ripped out the one which was most limiting length-wise and I pulled the rest of the case out from under my desk. As I saw the back of the PC I had to stop myself from throwing up.

Now I'm not afraid of gore, I grew up in a generation (and the subcultures) that made it such a commonplace it's usually unamusing. On screen, at least. But I didn't expect to come face to face with a chunk of skin stretching across where my plugs should have been. The cable I ripped out laid on the floor, a dark red liquid dripping from it, staining my carpet. Same thing could be found on the back of the case. Turns out the cable wasn't just stuck, it was *integrated* into the fleshy mess that shouldn't have been there.

That's when I got a screwdriver and ripped the case open. It seemed like the only logical way to deal with whatever infested my computer and I didn't know what else I could do. The case came away like a sticker, the inside melted to a wall of human-like skin, peeling away it left a residue of perspiration on the plastic.

The flesh monster's skin seemed to have formed a block, covering its insides from all angles, pressing against the vents and pushing out through the outlets. The cord I ripped had left a nasty hole that started to scar up, but I wanted to see what I was up against and I *didn't let it*. I scraped away the scar tissue with the screwdriver and pushed it through the wound, detaching the vein that supplied my cable from the wall of skin. The case still hugging it from the outside cast a shadow that made it hard for me to see in, so I turned on my flashlight, stretching at the hole with my tool, trying to take a peek.

I saw veins running across the surface, the inside was humid and *warm*, at least warmer than room temperature but it wasn't the heat of a working human body. It was starting to cool. In the middle of the case I saw something heavy, a huge knot in the middle of the circulatory system which kept beating in a steady rhythm. It was slow, the pulse was invisible from the outside, yet it kept pushing blood through the opening, trying to close it up, but the scarring slowed down significantly from when I first ripped that cable out. It ran on electricity, it had to have been the case, the inside had a greenish tone from what I could make out, meaning that during the blackout it started rotting. The system that somehow ran like a normal computer for months started to decay, which reminded me of the smell my brain ignored from my initial shock that once again sat heavy in my lungs.

I did not reconnect it but I didn't know what to do with it either. Who would have I called? I scoured the internet to find your institute, and I left my PC to you. Past making this statement I wish not to associate myself with this case any longer.

Statement ends. First thing after reading this statement I went down to artifact storage to ask about this curio. Turns out whoever left it to us delivered it too late, the "heart" was not beating and the thing once stretched against the walls of it's case now sat collapsed and rotten in the organic section, making any other follow-up almost impossible. Looking for the flesh house also yielded no results, meaning I will put this case to rest as-is. What does keep me wondering are the intentions of the seller. Why would an avatar of the Flesh sell a piece of itself to an unsuspecting individual? There was no mention of the *flesh block* attempting to leave its case meaning there was no intention of spreading the system either. Maybe they didn't intend the buyer to possess it for so long, maybe they tried to alert us of their vicinity. But they failed. They left us with a cold trail. *sigh* Recording ends

This is episode one of my series I call MAGREDACTED, here are all the episodes out now:

The Vast The Stranger The Dark

New episodes will be posted over on @archivus !

#tma #tma fanart #MAGREDACTED #originals #tma fanepisode #the flesh #writing #jon sims

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rising-volteccers · 2 months

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*agressivley slurps up the frozen wip through a silly straw* GOOD SHIT

You know what anon? Seeing this honestly sparked motivation that I ended up finishing the idea I have for [Frozen] so...

Series: Pokemon Horizons

Characters: Friede, Murdock, Liko, Roy

Part of my Status Effect series. I'll see if I have the motivation to do the caretaking part of this piece. Here's [Poison] if anyone wants to read that haha.

No one ever asked why Friede hated winter.

To be fair, even if someone did ask, he wasn't entirely sure what he’d say. Friede didn't exactly hate the season after all. How could he when it brought out a festive mood to the Brave Olivine? Where his crew brought out their scarves and jackets, sipping on Murdock’s special hot chocolate? Even the Pokemon that traveled with them for years understood the changing seasons meant special treats made to warm them up were given after dinnertime.

Friede didn't really hate winter. Not at all. It was the cold.

He hated the cold. Friede couldn't stand the way the cold air seeps down into his lungs, freezing him from the inside out. The chill always curled into the space around his heart, causing it to tighten with every breath he took.

He hated how keeping warm was an ongoing battle. It felt like he just couldn't stay warm during the winter months no matter what he tried. Layering jackets and scarves, cocooning himself into multiple blankets in bed–regardless of his efforts, the cold would still somehow find its way through into his bones.

By this point in their travels, his crew rarely bat an eyelash when he started complaining about the cold. They knew he disliked it, not that he hated it. Sometimes they do get annoyed when he whines a little too much, and when that happens he'd sequester himself within his room, wrapped in multiple blankets until he felt a little more like himself again.

Friede complained a lot because the alternative was to let the chill settle in, leaving him miserable with chattering teeth and hands shoved deep into his pockets. He didn't want to bring a dampened mood to the table, and he somewhat preferred annoyance to concern.

He knew it was by his own fault for not having the cleanest track record when it came to things that inconvenienced him. Friede kicked up a fuss for something minor like a cold but kept to himself when he sustained more serious injuries. It was just second nature for him to hide when vulnerable, as well as not worrying the people around him.

So Friede complained and whined so they don't see just how much he hated the cold. That it reminded him of long days within a dark, cold lab feeling numb. They just chalked it up to him being over dramatic, which suited him just fine.

When Liko and eventually Roy joined the crew, Friede slowly came to realize that these two looked up to him. It wasn't difficult to notice the way Roy hung on to his every word, or how Liko often turned to him for advice. With that realization came this want to be a good role model.

So Friede helped with their training, imparting knowledge and doing all that he could to help these two grow. This also meant conducting himself in a certain way, seeing that he didn't want them to pick up on any of his ‘bad’ habits.

When they eventually landed in a region deep into its winter months, he didn't complain about the cold. Friede simply found himself unable to in the first place, not when Roy expressed such wonder upon seeing light snow falling from the heavens. He didn't want to ruin it with his usual spiel, nor did he wish to break this strong, dependable image the kids had of him.

When it came time to explore the nearby town for supplies, Friede found himself trudging through ankle high snow alongside Liko, Roy and Murdock. He'd rather be back on the ship than out here but Murdock requested as many hands as possible to help carry the groceries he planned on buying. Orla had repairs she needed to do while Mollie went to check up on the Pokemon, leaving him and the kids as the only ones capable of assisting.

Sporting multiple layers to combat the cold, Friede stamped down on his mild jealousy of seeing Murdock and the kids dressing warmly with only an additional layer to their long sleeved clothes. He felt a bit stifled when moving about but the extra clothes kept him somewhat warm.

Friede remained at the back of their little group throughout their walk. Quietly, he observed Roy’s open awe, Liko's quiet wonder and Murdock's musings. He listened to idle conversations shared between the trio, about how Roy’s island didn't even really get snow while Liko only experienced light dusting of it when winter arrived. Their excitement was palpable enough to make him smile.

At some point, the group walked along an elevated path next to a frozen pond. From their position, they spotted various Ice-types by the pond’s edge, looking like they were moving towards the nearby forest.

Friede squinted his eyes to make out the exact Pokemon in the distance, leaving him half distracted. He didn't notice Fuecoco walking closer to the edge, prompting Roy to drift away from the group while Liko and Murdock were caught in a conversation.

The sudden yelp immediately drew his attention. Friede whirled around just in time to experience a mild heart attack when he saw Roy disappear over the edge. Everyone scrambled to where Roy fell, peering down to find that he and Fuecoco had slid down the (thankfully) short slope onto the frozen pond.

“Roy! Are you and Fuecoco alright?” Friede called out, eyes already seeking for a path that would bring them closer.

“Ow… yeah, we're fine!” Roy responded. He held tightly on Fuecoco when his gaze swept his surroundings.

“Alright we're heading down! Make your way over there!” Friede pointed to the closest edge where Roy could get back on solid land.

After Roy shakily got to his feet, all three of them quickly headed to the edge. Roy slowly shuffled his way over through slow, hesitant steps. He was about halfway across when he suddenly stopped, eyes widening.

“U-Uh. I think–I think I see cracks?”

“Keep moving Roy! Slow but steady!” Murdock’s voice encouraged the boy to continue but it was obvious how scared he was.

Without much thought, Friede stepped onto the frozen surface. Ignoring Murdock and Liko's surprised cries, his focus lay on getting to where Roy was. Seeing his approach granted the boy some much needed courage to keep moving.

When he got closer, that was when Friede spotted the cracks Roy mentioned. He didn't say anything, simply encouraging Roy until Friede managed to grab hold of his hand.

“C’mon, just a little bit more. Slow and steady.”

Roy gave a tiny nod. Together, the duo shuffled their way closer to the edge. By then Murdock had stepped onto the pond while Liko remained on solid ground. He had his arm outstretched, ready to grab hold and pull them towards safety.

Just when it seemed that they were in the homestretch, Friede's ears picked up on a terrifying noise. He couldn't help but look over his shoulder.

A large crack had formed, rapidly moving to their position.

His body simply moved on its own. Friede pulled Roy and Fuecoco close before shoving them towards Murdock’s outstretched arms. Another sharp crack sounded, followed by a litany of others. Friede looked up just in time to see the horror on everyone’s faces before the ice gave way, plunging him into dark waters.

The shock he experienced differed from Cap’s electrical ones; painful as can be but cold cold cold. Friede instinctively gasped, causing freezing water to fill his throat. Before panic truly seized him, he desperately kicked his legs, slowly propelling himself towards the hole he fell through.

Friede didn’t know who’s cry was louder; his or the kids when his head breached the water’s surface. He barely got a lungful of air before his head went back under again. With his eyes squeezed shut, it was pure instinct that pushed him to swim for the surface.

He managed to get his head out of the water again, fighting to keep the panic at bay. Each breath was wet and painful, like millions of needles prickling his lungs. The extra layers he wore to keep warm now acted as anchors that weighed his body down. The frantic yell of his name prompted Friede to seek for its source.

That was when he spotted Murdock, stripped of his outer jacket whilst on his hands and knees. It looked like he was slowly crawling to where he was at. His friend looked fearful but determined.

“Grab it!” Murdock shouted, holding onto one of his coat’s sleeves before flinging the rest towards his general direction. Understanding his intent, Friede shakily grabbed onto the other sleeve, holding on for dear life.

Murdock started to worm backwards, flat on his belly with one hand tightly gripping the sleeve. He was doing a valiant attempt of dragging him out of the water but every time Friede got his elbow up on the edge of the ice to pull himself out, the ice couldn’t support him and broke.

Each time he fell back into the water, it squeezed out the air in his lungs. His heart pounded faster than he thought possible but adrenaline was one hell of a drug. Still, the icy waters rapidly drained his energy. Friede knew that the moment he let up in his desperate attempts of getting out, that was it.

Murdock ended up crawling closer again. Friede wished he had the breath to tell him not to reach out himself; falling in along with him would defeat the purpose of trying to rescue him.

“Roll,” Murdock gasped instead. “I know you can do it Friede. Roll.”

Even as his senses were getting dull, Friede had enough mental clarity to understand what Murdock meant by that. He got a shaking arm out of the water, still holding tightly onto the coat with his other hand. Through harsh, irregular breaths, he gingerly placed his elbow on the jagged edge of the hole. He twisted his body inwards, getting his knee onto the edge as well. With one last burst of energy, he pulled himself out before rolling away from the hole. He rolled and rolled until he couldn’t move anymore.

As he laid there simply breathing, drenched and freezing cold, Murdock had wormed after him on his belly. Friede didn’t have anything left in him by the time Murdock hooked his hands underneath his armpits, pulling him away until they were presumably out of danger.

Murdock eventually fell back, gasping for breath himself from the exertion of saving his life. Liko and Roy frantically approached them moments later.

“Friede, are you alright?” Liko asked first. He didn't have to look at her to know that she was scared.

“F-Friede I'm so sorry because of m-me…” Roy sounded like he was moments away from bursting into tears.

“H-Hey it's fi–” Whatever assurance he wanted to give evaporated the moment he tried to turn onto his side, coughing out the water he inhaled during his struggle. Odd how he’d be freezing but feel like his lungs were burning.

Hands quickly settled on his back for support, and it was those same hands that helped him sit up. Friede ended up slumping against Murdock's side, too drained to be of much help.

“S-S-Sorry ‘bout g-getting you w-wet,” he spoke through chattering teeth. Feeling the way his hair plastered over his face, it wouldn't surprise him if a layer of frost had formed already. Friede certainly felt more ice than human by this point.

“That's the least of your worries. C’mon, we gotta get you back to the ship.” Thankfully, Murdock took charge of the situation. Friede didn't have the capacity to assure Liko and Roy right now.

Before Murdock lifted him to his feet, Friede shakily put on the damp jacket Murdock used to pull him out. He couldn't protest when Liko wrapped her and Roy’s scarves around his neck. They couldn't remove his soaked clothes right now so the best they could do was put more layers on him.

“You have Charizard's Pokeball on you?” Murdock asked.

Right, he did have it. Charizard would be able to provide some much needed warmth. Friede tried to reach for the Pokeball clipped to his belt but his fingers refused to cooperate.

Liko noticed his struggles so she leaned in to carefully grab the Pokeball, uttering a soft apology for encroaching on his personal space like this. She swiftly released Charizard from its Pokeball.

His partner immediately zeroed in on him. It growled softly, quickly going to his side, eyes shifting between Friede and Murdock.

“We need to get him back to the ship. Can you stick close to his side for some warmth?”

Charizard grunted once. It opened up one wing to partially cover Murdock and Friede, somewhat shielding them from the light breeze blowing past. Flying directly on Charizard would be the faster option but Friede barely had any strength for even walking, let alone holding onto Charizard through the flight. This was the best option they had at the moment.

“Liko, Roy can you head back to the ship first and let Mollie know what happened? Contact her on the way back and help her with anything she needs.”

“Okay!” The kids quickly set off to do just that.

“I think it's better if I carry you on my back. Do you think you can hold on?”

Friede's teeth chattered too much for a verbal reply so instead, he gave the tiniest of nods. With Charizard's help, he got on Murdock's back, arms loosely wrapped around his friend's neck. Murdock kept him secured by holding onto his legs.

By the time Murdock began the journey back to the ship, Friede's eyes slid shut. Vaguely, he recalled Mollie’s words on how dangerous it was to fall asleep when freezing cold. He did his best to stay awake but he had no energy left in the tank.

Friede drifted off in the cold he hated, unaware of Murdock's increasingly frantic calls and Charizard's growls.

#Pokemon #Pokemon Horizons #Professor Friede #Murdock (Pokemon)#Liko (Pokemon)#Roy (Pokemon)#Hana writes stuff #First completed piece of the year and it only took 4 months kajhdka #I warred between realism and just maximizing h/c so if it feels awkward it's cause I gave up at some point

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karlie-what-you-want · 4 months

Text

Grammy Voting, Record Labels, and Reputation…

An anonymous source with industry connections has provided me with some interesting context on the academy and has given me permission to share. I personally found it very eye-opening—just another layer or two that most of us would not even be aware of when considering things like awards, touring, and the power of record labels. Let’s begin.

* Grammy voting - 40% musical merit, 60% business

What does this mean? My source estimates that about 40% of the judging is based upon the content of the song/album/body of work being presented. Is the song actually good? Is the album sonically cohesive and coherent as a whole? What are the technical aspects that deserve recognition? Etc. This is what we, the audience, generally expect the Academy to be voting on, but that’s not all there is too it. In fact, my source feels that their estimation of 40% may actually be too generous based on what they have seen, because the business aspects of voting carry a lot more weight (again, roughly 60%, which means the business side matters more).

Look at it this way. Grammys are a form of currency in the music industry. Having a Grammy on a track or a record gives that project more exposure and more value, as well as being an excellent marketing ploy. The highest honor, the biggest gold star. So…

* Labels trade votes

According to my source, voting season is a big deal. A big part of the daily schedule for label executives at this time revolves around trading those votes. If you have something to offer, your artist will stand more of a chance. For example:

“Can you and your team vote for [my artist A] for album of the year?”

“Yes, but in exchange, I’d like you and yours to vote for [my artist B] for song of the year.”

Alternatively, and potentially more interestingly…

“Give me your votes this year, and next year, I will have my A-list artist give a collab and a few words of praise to your new up-and-coming artist whose first album you’re making right now.”

We’ve seen how much a little recognition can catapult a new artist into the stratosphere of fame and success. An IG story feature from Taylor is basically like having the light of god shine upon a new artist, and suddenly they’re not an obscure indie artist, but a shiny brand with big associations. Look at Conan Gray, Olivia Rodrigo, Girl in Red, Gracie Abrams. Allison were at varying levels of fame before Taylor acknowledged them, but they are massively famous now with a strong foothold in the industry that goes beyond their respective genres.

Please note, I’m not saying that Taylor is in charge of these things or at fault. I’m talking about the labels specifically, and the inner workings of them. I would imagine a lot of artists just do as they are instructed.

* Artists vs Labels, Labels vs Labels

It’s important to have a menial understanding of the labels themselves. The “Big Three” as it were (UMG, Warner, and Sony), while not technically being a conglomerate, have put in place a system of major cooperation. This is especially true for the big account labels.

What are big account labels? Well, using Sony as an example, they have a lot of “sub labels.” Some of these Sony created themselves, others they have bought. A lot of this is division by style. That said, a lot of the BIG accounts are with Columbia (Beyoncé, Springsteen, Adele, Bowie, and…oh hey, look, 1D, John Mayer, Calvin Harris…). For a lot of big accounts, this is where the vote trading happens. It determines who gets the best tour dates, the best venues, and in some ways, it stops mattering what label you have at this point—because there are so many outside factors.

* Yes, Grammy votes are even negotiated against touring dates and venues

My source has seen Grammy votes be traded in favor of freeing up a couple of nights at the O2, a big venue in London. When we look at these huge stadiums that popular artists often tour in, we have to remember how much has to be juggled in order to secure those dates. Many of those stadiums exist primarily for sporting events, so that is a big portion of any given year taken off of potential tour dates. Ie “You can’t perform there on any of these nights, because there’s a game happening.”

Tour dates and venues are often negotiated, planned, and booked years in advance. Oftentimes, a tour will be booked before the artist has even finished working on their album. Taylor’s next tour is probably booked already, or is being booked right now.

With that in mind, competition is going to be even higher for the nights that remain open. And how many artists are gunning to play at those stadiums? How can it be divided fairly and evenly? Well, it probably can’t, but that’s where the vote trading comes back into play. There is a lot of politics, trading, back-scratching, and back-stabbing going on regarding these things.

Let’s think of it in terms of X-Factor winners. They are all signed to Sony upon their victory—a huge label with plentiful resources and successful artists. But, Sony knows that most of the winners don’t actually find success in the industry, so are they going to invest time, money, and resources into the winners when they already see that track record? Of course not. My source says that in one particular year they have knowledge of, the season’s winner did not have a single person at the label assigned to them. Nobody to advocate, nobody to plan, nobody to book tours.

If a label loses interest or thinks you’re too much of a liability, they can simply let the contract expire (and potentially your career along with it).

In that regard, I can imagine how frustrating it would be to be signed to a label. You go on bright eyed and hopeful, excited that you got signed because you think that this will open up so many new opportunities for you. Then you discover that your label might not book you any shows at the best venues (or any venues at all), and you’re not allowed to perform without their permission. You don’t have much to negotiate with because you’re a new artist, so how can you ever prove yourself?

Alternatively, you’re a veteran artist who’s suddenly being neglected, but you notice the new artist without any released work is being promoted and getting all sorts of opportunities that you used to have. You don’t realize everything at play behind the curtain; all you know is that this thing that was supposed to put you ahead in the industry has now put you very far behind. Which brings me to…

* Why was Reputation snubbed during its Grammy season?

I’d imagine that if you’ve read this far, it’s all coming together for you now. In Miss Americana, we watched Taylor’s heart break over Reputation not being acknowledged by the Academy. She tearfully resolved to just make a better album. But there was so much more at play here.

We now know that during Reputation era, Taylor was in a battle with Scott B. and her label—hoping to secure her freedom. She wanted the rights to her work, and likely the freedom to show the world her true self. My source says that when Big Machine executives failed to campaign for Taylor at all in that Grammy season, they knew something was very, very wrong behind the scenes. A successful artist like Taylor would usually be the bread and butter of their label, and they were not advocating for her.

It was not a lack of talent or merit that lost Reputation a Grammy (or even a nod), but the fact that she had pushed back against the label in hopes of owning her own work and determining the direction it would go. This struggle seemed to start back with 1989 when Taylor decided to go full “pop” against their wishes. I can’t help wondering if Taylor wanting desperately to live her truth openly also contributed to this, which would make it even more heartbreaking.

I know some people in the GP were puzzling over why Midnights won AOTY, and I’m sure many of us around here have been baffled by the lack of critical acclaim for Reputation. I, obviously, am a huge fan of Taylor’s and I love to see her talents recognized. I also just enjoy discovering more about the inner-workings of Hollywood and the music industry. Fresh off the Grammys seemed like a great time to share this “insider’s perspective” that I’ve become privy to.

#pr #grammys #reputation

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subskz · 2 years

Text

strong - s.cb

note: this is a reupload from my old blog

content: sub changbin, dom reader, cross-dressing, pegging, praise, body worship, light humiliation, light bondage, biting, fingering

word count: 4.7k

“Ah...seriously.”

You had to push back the grin that was threatening to make its way onto your face as Changbin hesitantly took the garments from your hands. His eyes locked on them in poorly masked curiosity, pupils blown wide and practically burning holes into the black lacy material.

“For me?” he repeated the question. His voice was still full of disbelief, as if you’d just been messing with him the first several times you’d clarified—which, in all fairness, was a reasonable suspicion to have given your track record of teasing him.

You nodded. “For you.”

The message seemed to get through to him at last, if the way his face reddened was any indication. You waited patiently for him to say something, watching in amusement as he brushed his thumbs over the bra with a careful fascination. “Wh-why?” he sputtered.

“Why?” You tilted your head. “It was your idea, wasn’t it?”

Changbin’s gaze snapped up to meet yours, mouth falling open in defense. “It wasn’t!”

His tinge of panic finally drew out the smile that you’d been suppressing for so long. “Mm...I guess you’re right,” you agreed. “I did suggest it.”

A look of relief crossed his face, only for it to morph right back into alarm as you continued speaking. “But then, you brought it up again.”

He opened his mouth to object. “That’s—”

“And again...” you gleefully cut him off. “And again.”

Changbin could only huff as you drove in your point. He ducked his head, letting his bangs fall into his eyes to shield him from the smug look spreading across your face. “I was just joking,” he mumbled.

“Joking?” you echoed. “Jokes get boring when you keep repeating them, Binnie.”

The boy said nothing, sucking his lower lip into his mouth in a nervous habit. Despite how interested you knew he was in the set you’d bought him, you also knew that he may actually die of embarrassment if he admitted that to you. He stayed quiet as he shifted his weight from side to side, inwardly praying that you wouldn’t give up on the idea so easily.

Fortunately for Changbin, you knew him all too well. You hadn’t missed the hopeful gleam in his eyes as they'd darted between you and the lingerie, urging you to convince him as if he wasn’t already itching to try them on.

Deciding on a new approach, you let out a wistful sigh. “Hm...that’s too bad. I was really looking forward to seeing you in these.”

You placed a finger on his neck, gliding it ever so slowly down to his collarbones. The feeling alone made Changbin’s heart skip a beat under your touch, any words he'd planned to say catching in his throat when you traced mischievously over the curve of his chest. “Especially here,” you murmured. “I bet you would’ve looked so pretty.”

Feigning disappointment, you made a show of reaching out for the bra and underwear. You rested your hands over his, pausing for a moment to try and catch his expression before taking them into your grasp. Just as you did, you were met with a sudden resistance. Changbin tightened his hold on the material, tugging at it lightly and letting out the tiniest noise of protest. You raised an eyebrow at him, but he kept his gaze stubbornly averted, lowering his head even further in an attempt to hide his burning cheeks.

“If…” he began, swallowing hard. “If you really want…”

He trailed off sheepishly, but his grip on the lingerie didn't let up. “What do you want, Binnie?” you countered, lifting a hand to take his chin between your thumb and index finger. He tensed as you tilted his face back into view, his skin flushing impossibly deeper and telling you all that you needed to know.

Changbin batted at your shoulder with a low whine, wriggling out of your grasp to turn away again. You simply giggled in response, delighted with how flustered the idea alone had made him.

He relaxed slightly as you gave his cheek an apologetic pinch, and he raised the garments to get a better look at them.

“Why don't you try them on?” you encouraged, voice softening. "We both know you'll look great, baby."

Changbin gave a small nod, scooting back a bit and allowing himself some space to change. His hands slipped under the hem of his shirt before he paused, giving you a pointed look. “You’re staring,” he complained. “Turn around.”

You hesitated, debating for a moment whether or not to tease him, then decided against it—you’d have plenty of opportunities to do that later. The jingling of Changbin’s belt could be heard behind you as you turned your back to him, and you felt excitement bubble up in your chest at the thought of what was to come. He shuffled around for several seconds, ridding himself of his shirt and pants. When the rustling of his clothes came to a stop, you spared a quick glance over your shoulder, only to find him still fumbling with the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“Hey,” He began, voice turning up in pitch.

“Sorry, sorry.” You whipped your head back around, holding in another laugh before adding. “Not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before.”

You waited patiently for him to finish up, making sure not to look this time until you were entirely sure he was ready. After several confused grunts and a bit more rustling, his confirmation came at last.

“I think...I got it,” he announced awkwardly.

At that, you spun to face him almost too quickly, not bothering to disguise your eagerness. Changbin tried his hardest to stay still, desperately hoping he appeared confident despite how vulnerable he felt the moment your eyes landed on him.

You drank in the sight of him bit by bit, letting your gaze travel over every detail of his body. The frilly straps of the bra looked especially delicate in contrast to his broad shoulders, and the exposed skin of his pecs dipped into the garment to create a cleavage that nearly made your mouth water.

Changbin couldn’t help but squirm as you eyed his chest shamelessly, face growing hotter by the second. “W-well?” he asked, cringing at the way his voice cracked.

“Binnie,” you began seriously, letting your gaze drop to his soft stomach and toned thighs, admiring the way the lacy material adorned his muscles so beautifully. “You’re gonna drive me crazy.”

He felt a tinge of relief at your response, finally finding the nerve to look you in the eye. “I look good?” he pressed, biting his lower lip.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” you answered playfully, placing your hands on his shoulders to turn him in the direction of the vanity mirror on your dresser. Changbin’s breath hitched, both from your sudden touch on his bare skin, and what awaited him when his reflection came into view.

His eyes grew wide as moons as he studied himself, mouth nearly falling open. You kept your hands resting on his shoulders, leaning over from behind him to brush your lips against his ear.

“Gorgeous,” you murmured. “You’re so gorgeous, baby.”

Changbin whined softly, looking away again, but the shy half-smile that made its way onto his face wasn’t lost on you. Mischievously, you let one hand slide down to his chest, squeezing one of his pecs through the bra and earning a flustered squeak from the boy.

“I swear, you were made for this,” you continued, pressing a kiss to his neck. “Your body’s so perfect. Every inch of it.”

He managed a breathless thank you, leaning his head to the side instinctively when you pecked his skin. “You—ah—you really like it?”

You parted your lips just slightly to nip at the junction of his neck and shoulder, taking pride in the sound he made. “Really,” you hummed, peppering kisses along his shoulder until you were met with the strap of the bra. "You dont know what you do to me."

He stiffened as you slipped your index finger underneath it, playing gently with the material and peering up at his reflection. “Seems like Binnie really likes it, too.”

Your stare dropped pointedly to the growing bulge in his underwear, pleased to find how hard he’d become from your praises alone. A long groan of embarrassment escaped him, and he shifted his position in a weak attempt to cover himself. “Not fair,” he muttered.

Goosebumps rose on Changbin’s skin as you tugged at the strap of the bra, pushing it to the side to resume your trail of kisses. Your other hand ran along his body, feeling up the warmth of his stomach and hips and making him shiver.

“Please,” he breathed, pushing into your touch as your fingers ghosted over where he needed you most.

“Please, what?” you asked innocently.

He said nothing, letting out a small, frustrated noise instead. Your eyes glinted with amusement, determined to make him crack one way or another.

“My only thought when I see you like this,” you drawled, brushing your palm against the fabric of his underwear. “Is that you’re just begging to be filled up.”

That was all it took for the last of Changbin’s composure to crumble. With a mortified whimper, his hands flew up to cover his face. “Oh my God.”

Your proud giggles filled the room as he took shelter behind his palms, thick thighs rubbing together like he wasn't sure if he wanted to disappear or stay basking in your attention forever.

“Cute,” you cooed.

He grumbled miserably in reply, but the way he twitched in your hand told you just how much your words had really aroused him. “Am I wrong?” You pressed down harder on his length through the lingerie. "You deserve to be filled up so good when you're looking this pretty, don't you, baby?"

Changbin chewed on his lower lip before giving his head a tiny nod, no longer trusting his voice to remain steady. You left another kiss right below his jawline, taking hold of his hands and carefully removing them from over his face. “Let’s do something about it then, yeah?”

He hummed in quiet agreement, still refusing to meet your eyes. You tugged lightly at his arm, guiding him in the direction of your bed, and with a shaky exhale, he settled onto the mattress.

“Good boy.” You rested your hand on his head, ruffling his hair before making your way to your closet to retrieve your strap-on and a bottle of lube.

When you returned, you found Changbin fiddling with the bra strap that you’d pushed to the side earlier, trying to slide it back into its original place. His bashfulness made affection rise in your chest, and you couldn’t resist the urge to tease him for it.

“Don't be shy, Binnie,” you purred, joining him on the bed. “It’s coming off anyway, isn’t it?”

Changbin’s heartbeat picked up at the thought of what you had in store, and it only grew faster as you inched closer to him. “Right,” he squeaked.

Taking the hint as you drew near, he leaned back obediently, letting you make your way on top until he was resting fully on the mattress. With your gaze now boring into him from above, he was unable to look away, frozen in place under your hungry expression. You admired his doe eyes and full cheeks for a moment longer before attaching your lips to his neck. He melted under your touch almost instantly, going limp as you kissed and sucked gently at his skin.

The low moan building in his throat spiked in pitch when your hand slid up to his chest and cupped him over the bra like before. His back arched suddenly as you pinched his nipple through the fabric, making you smirk against him. “Sensitive?”

You gave the bud another squeeze, making Changbin hiccup in response. “Hah, y-yes…” he breathed. It was followed by a soft sigh as you bit down fully on his neck, rolling his flesh between your teeth until you were sure it would leave a mark for him to blush over later.

The heat of your mouth combined with the way you toyed with Changbin’s chest quickly overtook his senses. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip as your kisses moved further and further down, trying to control his volume.

“A-ah,” he whimpered. “More.”

You glided your tongue along the cleavage of his pecs before answering, feeling him begin to tremble beneath your fingertips. “More?” You pulled back slightly to study his face. “Be more specific for me, angel.”

He hesitated. “It’s embarrassing,”

The childish whine nearly made you falter, but you managed to hold your ground, too determined to see Changbin as flustered as you could possibly get him. “I can’t know what Binnie wants if he doesn’t tell me," you pouted, tracing patterns over the lacy material of the bra.

He licked his lips nervously, his already hazy mind struggling to find the right thing to say. His eyes darted to your fingers, telling you all that you needed to know, but you kept up the oblivious act despite that, set on hearing him say it himself.

“I want...” Changbin’s resolve fizzled out as soon as it came, and he interrupted himself with another groan, hands rushing up to cover his face once more.

You simply ran your fingers over his body, waiting patiently as his desire battled it out with his dignity. Steadying his breath, he tried a second time, taking some comfort in the fact that he couldn’t see the smirk that was no doubt on your face. “W-want you inside me...please.”

His confession came out muffled, but it made your chest flutter all the same. “That's my boy.” You gave his thigh an approving pat, feeling it flex nervously under your palm. “Such a needy little thing behind all that shyness, hm?”

Before Changbin could protest, you curled your hand around his bulge, spine tingling as you felt the wetness that had begun to seep through his underwear. His hips jerked into your touch, and you used the action to your advantage, making quick work of slipping your fingers below the material and sliding it down his thighs.

He gasped weakly as his length was exposed all at once, twitching against his stomach as the air hit it. You took a moment to marvel at the precum that had dribbled out of its head before holding up the sticky underwear for him to see. “You’re so wet, baby,” you murmured. “Your new panties are already ruined.”

Changbin nearly choked at your words. Just as he was about to take cover from you yet again, you took hold of his wrists and pinned his hands above his head in one fluid motion.

His eyes widened at that, glazing over with an adorable mix of shock and lust. You tried not to giggle when faced with his awestruck expression, loosening your grip on his hands to slide one of them through the leg hole of the underwear. Changbin’s stomach filled with butterflies as he realized what your intentions were. He relaxed his muscles instantly, allowing you to twist the garment into a makeshift restraint and fit his other hand through it so that he was completely bound, arms locked above his head on full display for you.

“No more hiding,” you announced, satisfied with your work. Changbin’s wrists wriggled around slightly in the material, helpless, completely at your mercy. It made you soften for a moment. “This okay?”

He gave a rapid nod, and you patted his cheek affectionately, readjusting your position to reach for the lube. Changbin licked his lips, spreading his thighs on instinct as you squeezed the substance onto your fingers. Once they were properly lathered, you tentatively pressed your middle finger against his rim, earning a light gasp from the boy.

“Want it?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “Please...” He hardly had the chance to get shy about the desperation dripping from his voice before your finger pushed into his hole, entering him little by little. The sensation made his cock jerk, and a long, sweet sigh escaped him the instant your mouth was back on his body. You kissed hungrily along his collarbones and down his chest, feeling the heat rolling off him in waves. Changbin shuddered beneath you as you began pumping your finger ever so slowly, and he clenched his jaw in an attempt to restrain the cute noises that threatened to spill out.

Mischievously, you pulled on the strap of his bra with your free hand, making him yelp in surprise as it snapped back against his shoulder. “Don’t hold back, baby boy,” you scolded. “Wanna hear all the pretty sounds you make when I’m inside you.”

To emphasize the command, you dragged your teeth delicately along the exposed part of his pecs, stopping only when your mouth came in contact with the bra. Your fingers moved down to fiddle with the front clasp of the garment until it came unlatched, popping open and fully revealing his chest to you.

Anything Changbin had planned to say morphed into a helpless mewl as you wrapped your lips around his nipple. His hips surged upwards, pressing your middle finger into his walls and adding a whole new jolt of pleasure.

You alternated between flicking your tongue and sucking intently on the sensitive area before you moved on to pepper the rest of his chest with kisses. The ticklish sensation made him wriggle in the sheets, and he couldn’t suppress the sheepish giggles that bubbled up in his chest. They melted into a particularly loud moan as you crooked your finger inside him suddenly, rubbing against his sweet spot.

“A-ah! There!”

Changbin bucked reflexively into the air, and his attempt at a stuttered apology was cut off when you repeated the motion immediately after. “Is it that good?” you asked sweetly. "I haven't even finished stretching you out yet, baby."

He pushed his lower half down against your hand with a groan, his body answering you before his mind. “Yes...hah…so good.” He spread his thighs wider, silently begging for you to take the next step.

Sensing the urgency of his movements, you paused your pumping to bring your slick index finger to his entrance, teasing at it gently. Another plea left his lips, and out of pity, you wasted no time before easing it in next to your middle finger.

Changbin clenched around the digits, trying and failing to hold back his relieved moan. You relished in the sound of it, leaning back down to bring your lips to his stomach and making the muscles in his abdomen clench. “You’re irresistible, baby boy,” you mumbled into his skin. “So perfect for me. Can't wait to see you filled all the way up, like you deserve.”

Your praises were met with a soft whimper, and you knew if you could see Changbin’s face that it’d be shining with pride. You spread your fingers inside him, stretching him out even further just as you bit down on the soft flesh of his stomach. He writhed under the heat of your mouth, releasing a sound so sinful that you nearly shivered yourself.

“O-oh God, please,” Changbin cried out, whole body jerking as your lips drew dangerously close to where his length rested against his stomach. “Can’t—ngh—wait anymore, please."

Your wet kisses moved lower and lower until you finally pulled back to study him, swiping your tongue over your lips. “What do you need, Binnie?” Deviously, you curled your fingers against his prostate, just to make his head a little foggier. “Ask me like a good boy.”

He struggled to find enough composure to answer you, knowing you wouldn’t let up unless he said the words himself. Swallowing hard, he forced back the shame that was rising in his chest. “N-need you to fuck me, please.”

“Yeah?” you purred. “Want me to fuck you full of my cum, Binnie?

A fresh wave of humiliation washed over him, but he managed to nod nonetheless. With a sympathetic coo, you pulled your fingers out of him, leaving him to tighten reflexively around the sudden emptiness.

You reached for your strap-on without missing a beat, fastening it around yourself with ease. Changbin grew restless with anticipation from the sound of you popping open the cap on the bottle of lube, cock throbbing against his stomach, thighs squeezing together to try and get ahold of himself. You spread the substance along your strap slowly, taking your time both to ensure that it was thoroughly coated, and to rile him up further.

Changbin blinked his eyes open to catch a glimpse of you, letting out a frustrated whisper of your name. You smiled down at him, too endeared to scold him for being impatient. With one last stroke of your hand, you brought the strap to his entrance, pressing the toy’s tip to it, but not quite slipping it inside him just yet. His breathing stuttered as soon as you made contact with his twitching rim, and you gave his thigh a reassuring squeeze in an effort to make him relax.

Tentatively, you pushed the head into him, making note of his reaction before continuing to slide the rest of your strap in. Changbin inhaled sharply as you bottomed out inside him, clenching around the strap immediately.

You took in the sight of him as he adjusted to your size–his chest rising and falling rapidly with the unclasped bra sprawled along it, skin covered in marks from the work of your mouth, all on full display with his muscular arms bound above his head. He shuddered as you ran your palms over his body, stopping at his waist to grab onto it for leverage. A broken moan escaped him as you began easing out, and it was soon followed by a gasp when you snapped your hips forward again.

Changbin’s dick jerked at the sudden stimulation, gleaming with all the precum that had leaked out of it. You rocked your hips back and forth with care until you found a steady rhythm, digging your nails into his hips as you did. It wasn’t long before the needy sounds building up in his throat began to spill out of him freely, his voice rising in pitch with each one.

“You're so noisy, baby. So cute," you praised. “You like it that much?”

He could only mewl in response, too overwhelmed to say anything else. As a wordless confirmation, he lifted his legs higher to wrap them around your waist, pulling you closer to him and making your chest swell with affection. Though the new position limited your movements somewhat, his neediness was so cute that you didn’t mind. You picked up the pace of your thrusts, pushing into him with more vigor.

Changbin’s mouth fell open, letting out a long, drawn-out groan that made your core tighten. His wrists struggled in the restraints of the underwear again, no doubt from the urge to grasp onto something and ground himself.

“S-so—mmph—good,” he whimpered. “Harder, please. F-faster."

Your hands slid along his chest and up to his arms, feeling the firm muscles beneath your fingertips and steadying his squirming in the process. “Listen to yourself, Binnie,” you giggled. “When’d my baby turn into such a slut?”

He squeezed his eyes shut with a mortified whine, unable to handle your teasing properly when the feeling of you sliding in and out of him clouded his thoughts. All he could focus on was you, and how badly he needed you to fill him right back up every time you inched out. “Please,” he rasped, face hot with shame. "Need it, p-please."

You complied at last, altering your motions so that the strap stirred up the deepest parts of him. The immediate string of moans that left Changbin’s lips didn't disappoint, his sweet voice ringing out freely. You released his arms from your hold to straighten back up and grip onto his thighs, pulling him closer towards you with each roll of your hips.

The new angle quickly took effect on the both of you, creating a delicious friction at your core and rubbing against his prostate in just the right way. Changbin’s cries melted together as the head of your strap pressed into his sweet spot over and over, making him see stars.

You let out a soft moan of your own, the building tension in your abdomen making it difficult to keep your movements controlled. “Can’t get enough of you like this,” your voice darkened with lust as you drank in the sight of him falling apart underneath you; a beautiful wreck. “Taking everything I give you like a good boy.”

Changbin arched his back sinfully, keening your name as you gave an especially sharp thrust. “Y-yes, ‘m a good boy...your good boy.”

You felt your own high rapidly approaching as you increased your speed even further, digging your fingers into the flesh of his thighs with an intensity that was sure to bruise. “A-ah! Gonna cum,” he slurred, hands thrashing in the restraints. “Please, c-can I?”

“Let it out, Binnie.” you panted, gaze dropping to his length to find it throbbing against his stomach. Knowing that neither of you would last much longer, you took hold of the pump attached to your strap, careful not not to press down on it just yet. “Gonna fill my baby up to the brim like he deserves. Wanna see how pretty you look when you’re overflowing with my cum.”

Changbin let out a choked sob at that, coming undone all at once. His cry was immediately followed by the loud, harsh sound of tearing fabric, echoing throughout the room and making goosebumps rise on your skin.

You blinked rapidly, shock melting into awe as you processed the scene in front of you. In his fit of pleasure, Changbin’s arms had tugged so heavily at the underwear wrapped around his wrists that he’d managed to fully rip it apart. The boy hardly seemed to notice how the rocking of your hips faltered as his orgasm washed over him, making him jolt in the sheets with hot ropes of cum spilling onto his stomach.

He kept his arms firmly in place, not shifting them from their position over his head despite how badly he was squirming. The sight of him trying to remain obedient even when so overwhelmed with pleasure set something off in you, and you picked your movements back up, almost without realizing it.

Changbin whimpered pitifully as the overstimulation set in, but even then, he didn’t dare move his hands. All it took was a few more thrusts for the pressure in your core to finally be released, and you gave the pump in your hand a hard squeeze, emptying your load inside of him just as you reached your own climax.

Your moans mixed with the sound of Changbin’s soft whimpers as the seed spilled into him, making his head spin from all the different sensations. You continued bucking your hips forward shallowly, riding out your high until the last few waves of bliss rippled through your body.

The two of you struggled to catch your breath, chests rising and falling in unison as your foggy minds began to clear. You loosened your near death-grip on his thighs, noticing for the first time how deep you’d dug your fingers into his skin. Changbin released a content sigh as you did, and you brushed the pads of your fingers apologetically over the delicate area in an attempt to soothe it.

“You can move your arms now, Binnie.”

He paused, his embarrassment returning on full blast as his thoughts cleared. Sheepishly, he lowered his hands from above his head, and you took his wrists into your hold to study them. “You tore it,” you marveled, tugging the ruined underwear off. “My baby's so strong.”

Changbin’s cheeks flushed as you held up the ripped pieces for him to see, and he had to fight back the urge to bury his face in the pillows. “I’m sorry,” his voice turned up in a whine, but you didn’t miss the tiniest hint of pride that crept into it.

“Mm, that’s okay,” you grinned, brushing his sweat-soaked bangs out of his eyes. “We’ll just have to make sure the next pair lasts a little longer.”

#skz smut #sub!skz #sub!changbin #dom!reader #changbin smut

668 notes · View notes

sporesgalaxy · 1 year

Note

Tumblr keeps crashing each time I send this so I gotta be quick: do have any tips on how to study biology (college is not an option atm)

Oh boy! I will do my best!

I've listed the basic irl resources for biological information first, followed by some online resources.

I've got a strong Animalia bias, so apologies that I don't have any botany-specific sites for you. 😔

I'm sure there's some stuff I'm forgetting. I'll add on to this if I think of anything!

If there's anything specific you need help finding a reliable biological resource for, let me know and I will try my best to help find you something!

•••

Finding primary sources (stuff written by the scientists who did the research [i.e. a journal article]) is always very good, but reliable secondary resources (someone else summarizing other people's research [i.e. Wikipedia page, book]) can be very valuable as well.

•••

Meatspace Resources

I would highly recommend checking to see if there is a Nature Park in your area! Nature parks often have volunteer programs and/or free educational opportunities. In my experience, naturalists are always very excited to meet new people interested in learning about local ecology!

There's also Zoos and Aquariums of course, although I know they cost money and are typically geared more towards kids. I'm lucky to live near some nice ones. Maybe check if there are any special programs happening at Zoos/Aquariums in your area (by checking their website[s]), where you might learn more than you would on a normal day trip.

Plus natural history museums, which usually have rotating exhibits so that you can keep learning new things when you come back! They also have more of an all-ages vibe than Zoos in my experience. Once again dependant on if there's one near you, and not free.

Last but not least: the local library, although obviously not every published book is a flawless resource. Still, might be interesting to poke around! There's usually some sort of digital search catalogue to make finding things easier. Libraries are fun :)

•••

Online Resources

Jstor is GREAT. Not all jstor articles are open access/free, but some are! And you can set a search filter to show you only things you can access.

One good way to find out what experts have written for other experts about biology: search a species name or biological concept or type of experimental study, etc. etc., in jstor's journal articles. I've linked a search for journal articles "I can access" containing the word "biology" as an example.

The website layout can feel a little obtuse at first but I think if you fiddle around with it a bit, it's not too bad to figure out? Feel free to kick my ass if I'm wrong djgjkeg

Wikipedia is actually a very good place to introduce yourself to a lot of biological concepts. I would recommend checking out some of the sources yourself if you can-- usually at least some of them are free, and that can introduce you to new free resources for learning more (today I discovered bugguide.net!). Often they will link you to jstor.

But biology-focused wiki pages have a pretty good track record for Correct Information in my experience. The only issue I've run into is there being too little information sometimes.

Pubmed is a really good resource to read biomedical scientific papers for free if that interests you at all! Reading scientific papers is a really important skill and I think you can pick up a lot just by diving in and googling words you don't know.

A well-designed experiment is replicable (that is, you can understand from the paper how they set things up to the point that you could do it yourself, given the resources). It's also important to pay attention to sample size. The more times you replicate any process in an experiment, the more likely you will be able to identify what the most common result really is, and why.

Fishbase is a website I was introduced to in my icthyology class to find info about different fish species :) It kind of just dumps all the info on you in a big text wall, but many pages include great details about life cycle and diet that might go unmentioned on wiki pages.

I've never used bugguide.net before today, but so far it seems solid and like it has a lot of good info. I assume it is similar to fishbase but for bugs

EDIT: FREE ONLINE TEXTBOOKS I FORGOT ABOUT!!!

I used both of these for university classes at some point. I didn't use them much, so there may be issues I don't know about.

In my experience though they were solid resources, if a little confusingly worded at times. Bouncing between the textbooks and wikipedia tended to help me.

#syd writes an essay #<- not really but eh. to bookmark it.#asks #biology

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thicc-ray-of-sunshine · 1 year

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Anyway bitches enjoy the beginning of my Egon fic. My brother said it was good and I trust him. Lmk what y'all think

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To say it was frustrating was an understatement; being attracted to someone so emotionally unaware was as infuriating as it was depressing. The fact that you literally worked with him made it tenfold, it's like there was no escaping the wild cacophony of feelings you had for the man. In all honesty it was probably a fruitless endeavor since he quite literally embodied the phrase "married to their work" and wasn't known to show any remote interest into anything in the realm of romance.

Yes you were hopelessly infatuated with a one Dr. Egon Spengler; esteemed parapsychologist, nuclear engineer and Ghostbuster. He was strictly logical, a literal genius and held an austere demeanor that you found positively charming. Not to mention that he was extremely easy on the eyes; which was exactly what was leading you astray currently. It had become increasingly difficult to focus on the task at hand due to your wandering gaze that consistently landed with you staring at Egon's strong profile instead of typing up the notes on the sample of psychomagnotheric slime he was studying he had so nicely asked you to transcribe for him. Typically this wasn't really part of your job and normally you'd be working the phones and dealing with clients with Janine but it was an especially slow day so here you were in Egon's lab, attempting to type up an official copy of his lab notes. Attempting and failing that is. It was always like this now, he just drove you to distraction. Those high cheekbones, prominent, almost regal nose that held his very out of fashion glasses you found so endearing, the ones that magnified those beautiful chocolate brown eyes; he was just downright dreamy. Especially now, in his lab, jaw tensed and brow furrowed looking intensely at a small sample of the mood slime through his microscope.

You were so lost in your own head you nearly jumped right out of your seat when he let out a noise of frustration and moved away from the lense of the microscope to sit back in his chair. Snapping back into reality you quickly turned to right yourself and get back to the task at hand before you were caught either staring or slacking off. Unfortunately for you Egon caught the tail end of your gaze before you could completely look away and made an odd face that you couldn't quite decipher.

"You've already finished?" He asked quizzically. His expression warring between doubtful and being mildly impressed, eyebrows lilting.

Turning to look back at the stack of papers to be transcribed and your current progress on the computer you frowned. You had gotten pretty far but you still had another dozen pages to go at least. You felt shame for both not dutifully completing the rather simple task put forward and for essentially oggling your colleague. You shook your head, snapping out of your inner turmoil to face Egon who was patiently awaiting your response.

"Uhm not just yet, I should have these banged out within the next hour or so. Just a little out of it today."

You added a little smile at the end to deter any suspicion to your activities just for good measure. There was a brief flash of concern that immediately dissipated into his usual cool exterior.

"It's getting late and past our typical operating hours. Perhaps it's best you leave, I can finish this on my own."

You looked up at the clock and frowned again. It wasn't really that late, just past 8 in fact and you knew Egon would still be in the lab for at least another 6 hours given his track record.

Looking back at the stack of papers on the desk you sighed. You still had a ways to go and you really hadn't made a lot of progress in the last hour since your brain refused to cooperate. Realistically you probably didn't have it in you to finish but you didn't want to let Egon down and you were reluctant to give up on spending more of the evening with him.

"It's not a problem I assure you. I can handle these on my own."

He said, walking over to the desk you sat at to grab the notes in question, emphasizing his statement.

"You sure?"

"Perfectly."

You turned in your chair to face him better before giving him a half smile and standing up to stretch your limbs. Trying to shake off the guilt you felt about leaving him alone in his lab again.

"Thank you Egon. You have a good night okay? Please remember to eat something that isn't out of your snack drawer and try to get a reasonable amount of sleep please."

Staring up at him you could see the hint of a smirk, probably because you both knew he would not be getting anywhere near the recommended eight hours before you saw him again in the morning.

"Thank you for your help today (Y/N) it was appreciated."

He graced you with a small appreciative smile that highlighted his dimples that you gladly returned before clicking your heels together and making for the stairs. You said a brief goodbye to Ray who was still working on the Ecto while making your way out of the firehouse.

The cold night air bit at you while you hailed for a cab, it was too late and too cold for walking home so you opted to grab a ride. It was a short ride home despite the detours due to the massive hole in the street the city was currently trying to fix thanks to the Ghostbusters little slime excursion.

After stepping into your apartment building and a brief ride in the elevator you were finally home. Following a brief meal that included takeout from the night before and changing into your pyjamas your mind wandered it's way back to your feelings for the scientist.

You seriously doubted he was aware of it, regardless to the fact that it wasn't like you made your attraction blaringly obvious but considering everyone else at the firehouse were in the know about your crush and he wasn't made it pretty clear he either didn't know or worse: wasn't interested. That was the part that stopped you from acting. The idea that he didn't feel the same; something that would inherently damage both your working relationship and your friendship with the man, something you cherished deeply. Damn you and damn your crush on the good Doctor.

#wip #egon spengler #egon spengler x reader #fanfiction #working progress #i wrote this in a manic episode last night

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benjaminrydersnest · 3 months

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Bladeforged, an introduction

I realized I haven’t actually talked much about my WIPs outside of that one ask (thanks buffy btw <3) so here I go!

Bladeforged is part one (?) of a Medieval Fantasy adventure taking place in the vast kingdom of Mayfellow, where war is on the horizon. The main focus character, Silas, takes care of Shiro, a child being tracked down for his connection to that which is ancient and powerful- possibly even magical.

It explores themes of war, poverty, found family, unconditional love, and more!

The main cast is fairly large with a few queer characters, and just to list a few…

Silas, a kind ship captain and pirate-for-hire, taking care of his crew (and ship) and making sure Shiro is safe- no matter what.

Shiro- A child, often goes by the nickname “Lucien” to hide his true indenting. A lot of mystery of exactly who he is and why he matters is unknown, and Silas isn’t one to push- but other people are.

Valgen- The one responsible for the kingdom’s fall, in the main. It’s his fault Shiro is being hunted, and it’s his fault the land has become so lawless. Rules by force and chaos, his tyranny is well-known.

Jando (pronounced Yawn-dough)- A man? He’s honest, sure, but something seems… off about him. It’s probably nothing. He’s a member of the infamous Signus family, a family well-known for their trickery and manipulation.

Sakura- The strong leader of a society of powerful warriors, she takes the task of protecting the kingdom very seriously. Some question her authority, until she reminds them she was the first born son of a very powerful noble, and now she’s his only daughter.

Elpus Padrè- a wise bard, seemingly only here to record the events? Surely he does more than that…

Semi-regular updates will be given, more lore will be dropped, but certain things will be kept secret- you’ll have to wait for the book itself!

You may also note I said part one (?)- there are sequels planned, but I’m not sure as of yet whether I want it go through with it. I’ll know closer to the end or middle, probably- I did basically just get started.

#writing #writers #writers on tumblr #writeblr #Bladeforged

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witchern · 1 year

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i was going to put this story in the tags of another post but fuck it, this decade-old memory hit me like a TRUCK thanks to @gerardwayoftheday and it's incredibly special to me.

so, about this photo:

is now the time when i tell y'all i was in the crowd for this performance and specifically picked to stand up front at the barricade for the cameras???

freshman year of college i'd dyed my hair bright red, like gerard's is during this era. not on purpose but it ended up being eerily similar in shade and vibrancy.

ANYWAY. this performance was prerecorded in november. it was fucking cold. two of my new friends had seen an open invite from live nation for fans to line up for free and score a chance to join in the crowd and be part of the recording. they invited me along because they knew i was a fan and by the time we all got there, the line had already wrapped around the block. we waited so long that i had to sneak into a nearby restaurant to use their bathroom.

i don't remember how much time passed, but eventually a live nation crew member walked by our group and did a double take when he spotted us. ME specifically, because of the hair. and i knew it was because of me because he immediately comes up to me and asks if i'm here with anyone. i'm confused as hell by the question, but i point to my friends. he counts that there's 3 of us total and says something into his walkie talkie before he asks us to follow him and skip the line. there's no explanation WHY. we're still confused and we don't wanna leave the line we've been standing in for god knows how long.....but he's already walking away and our curiosity is too strong. so fuck it, we follow the guy down the block and skip the whole line.

he leads us to a much smaller group of fans that have been 'set aside' and asks us to wait with them instead. STILL no explanation. at this point i'm thinking we've been picked for the noisemakers and glasses and shit that they're gonna hand out for the recording.

turns out: nope!! we've been picked because – not to toot my own dumbass college horn – we all looked cool for the camera, so they wanted to put us up front. they hand us numbered index cards indicating our spots up front. i'm given spot #9. i am – to put it lightly – losing my ever-loving fucking mind at this point. but i'm playing it like i'm totally chill. so calm. so relaxed. not at all about to have the excited version of a panic attack. not one bit.

i know "sing" was the song they aired on TV, but they actually played 4 songs to make it a worthwhile evening for us, which was fucking amazing. they played "na na na" and "i'm not okay" and i thiiiiiiink the last song was "famous last words" but i was literally blacking out with joy for most of the night so don't quote me on that. they did dedicate "i'm not okay" to all of us though and you can't prove that i cried, so shut the fuck up.

funnily enough, even with the fire engine red hair, i didn't wind up on camera in a close up shot or anything. my buddy ryan did though!! probably because he's like 50 feet tall:

the most view of myself i was ever able to find was here at the bottom right – next to ryan, who's towering over me. i think he's literally looking down in this moment to make sure i haven't been crushed.

shout out to the other girl toward the center of the screenshot with the matching hair. twinsies <333

but as if all of THAT wasn't enough, as if being up front during a taped MCR new year's eve performance at rockefeller plaza wasn't enough – frank tossed me one of his guitar picks at the end of the night.

it's gonna sound sappy but it's true: at a time when i was on my own for the first time, trying to make new friends in a new city, i've never felt more like i was on the right track in my life than that night. it was fucking magical, no other way to describe it.

SO. that's the story of how i dyed my hair red in a fit of college rebellion and wound up getting picked from a lineup of hundreds of folks to stand up front at a mini MCR show that was pre-taped for new year's eve with carson daly. what a time to be alive in-fucking-deed.

#*t #i'm like. sweating just remembering the adrenaline rush lmao.

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centrally-unplanned · 6 months

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Sarah Z released a new video on Buffy Season 6 - looks like she isn't the only one doing a recent Buffy binge, great minds Sarah! Given her long track record as a Buffy lover I give her props for finally going all in and making a project of it. As is going to be a surprise to no one, I am pretty middling on this video - lets go to the random thoughts:

--- My first comment on this was going be a bit of a question mark around its title, "In Defense of Buffy's Most Hated Season". Season 6? Most hated? Sure you not thinking of Season 4? Or Season 1? Season 6 is very consistently ranked as a higher Season by most - no Season 5 or 3, sure, but normally top 3 or 4. Its a bit of a "cultural baggage" idea - because of, hm, reasons, it was an extremely controversial season back in the day. But removed from its airing that drama faded away, and particularly given that season 6's musical episode is one of the most lasting legacies of the show, now it stands on its merits and is generally liked. Sarah even almost accidentally cops to that with one of her example reddit posts, from a Season 6 hater but who frames that as a hot take:

However, looks like we agree, because Sarah changed the name of the video! Now its called "You Should Watch Buffy Season 6". I respect and empathize, honestly, realizing the cultural consensus has changed can take some time.

--- For a movie review about defending Season 6, it actually spends half of its analytical run-time criticizing it. And I was not swayed by these - which I am sad about, I have my critiques of the season too. Just trying to explain why the following thoughts are about criticisms, given the title.

--- Does anyone out there interpret Riley's departure in Season 5, and one-episode return in Season 6, as Buffy "losing a good man, and being shown the life she could have had married to him if she didn't screw up"? Because that is what Sarah thinks, and that to me is a buck wild take. Riley is not a subtle character, its pretty much a defining trait of his. Pretty sure his departure in Season 5 is him leaving a bad relationship, that is bad for him and Buffy, and Buffy realizing too late that she was letting pride and self-involvement get in the way of fixing it. Not that it necessarily could be fixed, or should be, just that that was the source. And in season 6 - this to me can't be any clearer - Riley's point in returning is to highlight that he, who was in an awful place in Season 5, got better. He got over it. He's strong even when he doesn't look it. And Buffy is too. She will get over it. Its why she breaks up with Spike at the end of the episode - Buffy realizes she is still strong, she can be way she 'used' to be. It does not forgive Riley's mistakes, or is even about any of that? This is a very weird take. Honestly I want to know if others have this take, tell me if you do.

--- This very weird take by the way comes from the "misogyny" moments that the video constantly alludes to, which tie back into Joss Whedon's behavior, which I want to flag here. I'll admit that from what I have seen of the evidence, while Joss does come off like a huge asshole on set, I actually haven't seen much of a case for a lot more than that. Some people see him as this like uber-predator and I don't know where that is coming from. So I might be biased a bit here, lacking that heft of conviction.

But I still think this is generally correct - someone's personal behavior is an extremely imperfect reflection of their writing chops. Some of the most insightful prose of all time was writing for crass monetization; serial abusers have written, in spades, the most complex and well-realized victim protagonists. Writing is a skill, not a morality trait. Personal action impacts writing, sure, but not in ways that *align* with morality. The fact that Joss Whedon was an asshole on set does not mean the writing on Buffy reflects misogynist abuse. Xander isn't a misogynist - when he is mad at Anya for sleeping with Spike he is portrayed by the narrative as a clear asshole. Riley isn't portrayed as a perfect boyfriend, dude fucking pays vampires to bite him! This all in your head! You don't have to like prove Joss Whedon is a bad dude through textual analysis. His work can still be #girlboss feminism, there is no contradiction there.

--- This will be brief, but I feel like we are past the weird 2010's hiccup of thinking "fridging" is a problem, right? This is about Tara's death, ofc. Stories aren't real life, in stories some characters are way more important than others. Side characters exist, very often, to further the arcs of those main characters. One of them dying as part of a main character's arc is completely normal. Its weird I feel I have to explain this; I don't really, right? Tara is not killed off on a whim; she dies because Willow has a season-long arc of tipping over the edge on magic power, its a lot about her relationship with Tara, and her death pushes her over the brink. I'll admit I find Dark!Willow's execution to be a bit weak, but that's its own problem; the motive is solid. This is how stories work.

--- Additionally, I think there is a big, but a bit unnoticed, shift in what "works" in media around character deaths. When Joss Whedon killed Tara in Buffy - and more notably killed Wash in Serenity - he was doing a deliberate "no one is safe" thing. It became a meme, actually!

Meme-ing about Joss Whedon man, right there in the garbage dumb of the past alongside Harry Potter memes shitting on Twilight thinking its the better franchise; life comes at you fast. But anyway this was a "big thing" to happen - audiences were shocked by it! It had dramatic impact.

Then Game of Thrones happened and this got turned up to 11, and the general plot twist even more of a meme. But meanwhile, TV changed in the background; entire seasons were getting dumped at once on streaming, everything was becoming "high context" with actors live tweeting their own set experiences, fandoms got more involved and contextual, "water-cooler" shows everyone was talking about faded due to audience separation, all sorts of shit. Which meant that the "kill a main character" thing stopped being powerful - it was overplayed, spoilers were more common, it didn't "air" as a standalone episode everyone talked about. The reason to kill off a character to raise the stakes faded away.

Which means when people go back and say things like "oh I loved Tara why kill her", its...well for one Amber Benson wanted to leave the show. But additionally you can't see the power it had in 2002. TV was different then, it wanted different things.

--- To give something positive, while I think Spike's attempted rape of Buffy is a strong writing choice - very in character for Spike, and its fine that it is primarily about his arc and not Buffy's because its a story, that is how these things work - I do agree that Buffy's response to the event is just not explored enough. It comes up multiple times of course, even in Season 7, but it also gets swamped by plot events in Season 6 with Willow, its not given room to breathe.

This imo relates to the fact that the pacing of the event is a bit wonky - Spike & Buffy had been on the outs for many episodes at that point, there wasn't this strong inciting incident for it. If it had happened much closer to their breakup, in a more focused arc, it would have had more narrative impact and allowed time for both of them to respond to it. I get that they had a lot of plot balls to juggle at that point, but still, missed opportunity I think.

Okay I had more thoughts but I am tired, I think that covers my most interesting complaints/observations anyway.

#buffy

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