#...I don't think there is any particular point here anymore...

[radiant-featherball]

Zead: That is why I guided you here. So that you may fully regain your powers.

Isaac wanted Hector to reclaim his power for the satisfaction of beating Hector at full power and didn't want the the easy way out of killing Hector when he was powerless. Isaac also wanted Hector to resurrect the castle for the delicious irony of the traitor who caused Dracula's death also be the reason for Dracula's revival.

But Zead taking credit for guiding Hector makes me wonder: what if Death convinced Isaac to let Hector regain his power in the first place?

It's never made clear if Death and Isaac worked together or if Death and Isaac made their plans independently of each other and Death just used Isaac for his own goals while Isaac might not even be aware of Zead.

Zead repeatable tells Hector where Isaac is and establishes himself as a reliable source of information, then just lies about Isaac being in the Infinite Corridor. It could be Zead and Isaac had planned this beforehand, and Isaac was just hiding while Trevor & Hector resurrected the castle or it could be Isaac is doing his own thing and Zead just keeping tabs on both Isaac and Hector.

The former fits better with Isaac attacking Trevor and presumable never was in Infinite Corridor, but the later do give the possibility of Isaac had planned for more of Hector's route and filled it with more patronizing instructions "Here is how you use your Innocent Devils to reach new places JUST IN CASE you forgot" but Death cut it all out because Death is petty and won't let Isaac have any fun.

Zead: *Sees Isaac's elaborate roadmap for Hector with sassy comments* I'll just skip this and point out where Isaac is.

Also not clear if Isaac was aware of Dracula's vessel needing to to fully succumb to the curse (Death explaining that to Hector leans to they not knowing, or Death, like Isaac, is just an patronizing bastard) and was prepared to be sacrificed to Dracula or if Isaac's plan was:

Let Hector regain his power

Trick Hector and Trevor into resurrect the castle

Kill Hector

Revive Lord Dracula

Be praised by Lord Dracula and told he is the best servant ever & need no one else and he'll ditch that smelly old skeleton

Death thanking Hector for hesitating to kill Isaac implies he couldn't use a corpse even if he succumbed to the curse. Or at least would be worse material. Which also doesn't explain if Isaac knew Death's plan and just assumed he get to kill Hector and use Hector's corpse to revive Dracula.

But back to the original point and assuming for sake of argument Death and Isaac worked together.

PtR version of Isaac brought a sword for Hector and both PtR and MF manga Isaac don't uses any of his Innocent Devils when fighting Hector. That's great evidence Isaac would always have wanted Hector to be at full strength. But that was also when Dracula was still alive, Isaac still had a home and not been years under a curse.

Isaac could have changed his mind how wise it was to be honorable. He could have regretted respecting Hector, convinced himself if he had used Abel or all of his Innocent Devils back then, then he would have made it back to the castle to heroically slay the Belmont and save his Lord and rewarded as he deserves.

Resurrection the castle requires blood of the Belmont and destroying the seal, but even Trevor feared Isaac scratching him was enough to gain entrance to Infinite Corridor and Isaac knew Devil Forgemasters could easily conjure enough magic to break the seal. So nothing about that step of the plan requires Hector other than the satisfaction of tricking Hector.

So it's not impossible Isaac would have wanted to kill the traitor, get blood from the Belmont and destroy the seal himself, and then revive Dracula and take all the credit for himself. None of which would require Hector to regain his power.

But Death wants to use Hector as he is the most suitable for Dracula's revival. And presumably Hector regaining his powers as the Devil Forgemaster is part of that process since it needs Dracula's power as a power source to work. Also because Death is petty and wants to get rid of both Devil Forgemasters.

Death is well known to be a manipulator and Isaac is ruled by his emotions so if Isaac originally didn't plan for Hector to regain his powers, it wouldn't take much prodding on Isaac's former respect for Hector and his desire to prove himself better than Hector.

Isaac could think everything was his and only his own plan, and not realizing Death is tricking him. It fits with Hector's conclusion Isaac was just another victim.

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

This one goes out to all the bitches who love some good Safehouse Era Horror. It's me, I'm bitches. I want Jon and Martin to be fucked up and eldritch but I want them to be fucked up and eldritch and loved

(Notes under the cut because I can't help myself. Heads up, I do go into some detail of how Jon gets injured so I can explain my thought process for how I designed his scars. All canon-typical and fairly clinical in tone.)

Here's how I picture Safehouse Jon!

He doesn't need glasses anymore by this point, so he should just be wearing empty frames, but I drew this before I settled on my glasses headcanons. This drawing looks better with the reflection anyways.

He hasn't gotten a haircut since before his promotion to Head Archivist. He doesn't love the weight of it on his neck, but he also uses it to fidget, and he really doesn't want to go through the whole process of cutting it. He's disliked haircuts since he was a kid (People: Bad. Small talk: Bad. Touching: Bad. Loud sounds: Bad. People talking all at once: Bad) and since his time with the Circus he's only grown more reluctant to go and get it done.

At this length his hair is naturally pretty curly but he is. Not taking care of it. I actually put a lot of effort into trying to make it look brittle and tangled (I have a lot of experience lol, my hair is quite thick and I've always hated taking care of it. Yes I am also projecting my feelings about going to a hairdressers onto him why do you ask.)

The various scars were a bit of a strange task, but anyone who has seen my takes on The Bad Kids knows I'm not averse to selective realism in my fiction. Easiest one was the neck, I always pictured Daisy making a vertical cut based on "through the voice box". The larynx is longer than it is wide, so I think Daisy would go for the method that dealt damage across the largest total surface area. Yes I am aware that I'm speaking the same way Martin does when he explains his corkscrew.

The worm scars were easy because I barely drew any. There are a few marks on his cheek, but they're just surface bites. I picture most of his encounter with Prentiss showing on his legs, particularly on the right side, with enough damage there that he starts using a cane after the incident to keep weight off his right leg. More research to be done on this particular detail.

Finally the burn on his hand from Jude. This was the weirdest one to figure out just because of the nature of the injury. How do you quantify the damage done to an epidermis by a living manifestation of sometimes-boiling wax that can heat and cool at will? I settled on it being a second-degree burn that healed supernaturally fast, containing the damage to the space Jude had direct contact with. He'd probably have some mobility issues there as well. I know there are ways to help with mobility and pain after a severe burn, but I don't know how much of it Jon would actually. Do. Like I said, definitely further research to be done on these last two.

Hey so I'm gonna ask you to stop and consider the horror of the watcher. The helplessness. The guilt. The inherent terror of being a spectator, a participant by proximity but not by action. The horror of not being able to look away, of being a bystander. Jon forgets to blink sometimes. But wouldn't it be so much worse if there were no eyelids at all? That's how I interpret the description of The Archivist being "All Eyes" :D

I love a good Many-Eyed Jon, so I whipped up my own interpretation here. I think the more he Becomes the more he starts to resemble the thing from the dreams. He has a lot more control of it in S5, but it still creeps up on him and he has to consciously go back to a human shape.

[whateverloomis]

🖤 Dilf!Billy Loomis x AFAB reader (Stepcest)

🖤 Part 2

Warnings: Stepcest, predetermined family, fingering, teasing, p in v, roughness, infidelity, unprotected sex, dirty talk, daddy kink, slight degradation, mentions of Stu, age gap (middle aged Billy and reader in their 20s,) AFAB reader (no pronouns,) unedited

Your mother had never been shy with her love life. She's had multiple partners after your dad passed away. Random hookups with attractive older men happened pretty often too. You're sure it's all been to fill the void and drown the unwanted emotions.

You've never really had the best relationship with her, you bud heads a lot and have grown distant since your biological dad passed, not to mention the countless arguments about every little inconvenience.

For that reason and many others you haven't been secretive about the attraction towards your step father, Billy Loomis. You don't care if he actually loves her or not. You'll let any selfish thoughts cross your mind and oh boy, you want that man inside you as soon as possible.

He's been living with you and your mother for 2 years and as time went by it got more difficult to contain yourself around him, especially since he openly flirts with you and you swear that one of these days you're going to jump on his cock the second you find a chance.

One particular day your mother left for the weekend on a business trip. You were more than sure that she'd been cheating on Billy with his best friend, Stu Macher. They've worked together for years and it's so obvious that they've got something going on.

To be completely honest, you wouldn't mind having Stu as your next step father. He's just as hot as Billy and you never miss the way that he checks you out whenever you're around him. Gosh, if you could have both of them at the same time you know you'd cum the second they both lay hands on you.

Being alone with Billy for the weekend was going to be difficult. You haven't hooked up with anyone in so long and touching yourself isn't satisfying anymore. The way he shamelessly walks around shirtless with sweatpants that highlight his cock drives you crazy and you don't know how you'll survive around him.

Because of that you were feeling bold. You wanted to risk it all, and you did.

It was a Saturday morning and you wake up ready to take the day off to relax after a long week. After you brushed your teeth and showered, you went to the kitchen in just a thong, a thin cotton crop and knee high socks. You knew Billy would walk in the kitchen any second after hearing the water turn off in the shower and were ready to pounce at any moment.

"Well good morning to you too." The sound of his deep voice instantly sent shivers down your spine.

Billy was standing against the countertop behind you shamelessly looking at your exposed ass and gorgeous legs. His hair was damp from the shower and slicked back. No shirt on. Grey sweatpants. He was out to hunt and you were his easy prey.

Turning around, you smiled innocently at him and pointed at the stove, "You want pancakes? I'm making myself some."

Billy could see right through you and he wasn't playing your games.

At your question he chuckled and walked towards you. His hands instantly found your waist and his eyes captured yours, "I'm hungry for something else," he said and squeezed your flesh slightly, his eyes lingering on your tits before scanning your face.

He was driving you mad. You couldn't help but bite your lower lip to suppress a pathetic moan that threatened to come out of you.

Billy seemed to notice and smirked at your reaction, "I don't think your mother would like knowing you're walking around the house looking like that while I'm here," he said and it was your turn to chuckle at his nonchalant comment.

"I don't think she'd like to see her husband grab me like he is right now but here we are," you answered and he lost it.

Billy ran his hands down and under your ass cheeks before picking you up. He sat you on the counter and positioned himself between your legs. His large hands rested on your thighs and he occasionally squeezed them.

"Don't use that tone with me," he said half serious and you laughed teasingly as his words.

"Why? Is daddy gonna ground me? Hm?" you teased further and Billy grabbed your face with his right hand under your jaw, making you look into his eyes. You smirked at him and that was enough, the man crashed his lips against yours and kissed you hungrily.

You were desperate. Both of you were. Your hands were tangled in his hair and he was holding you impossibly close to his body. He groped your ass as you rocked against him slowly.

He was hard and needy before, but having you like this was going to make him cum right then and there if he wasn't careful.

Billy slid one of his hands from your ass to your hip, down your inner thigh and finally over your core. He felt the wetness through the fabric of your thong and he gasped at you mockingly, "I've barely touched you and you're already soaked," he said and you whined softly. So desperate to feel him inside you. Your body ached for his cock.

The man couldn't contain himself much longer. He was already pulling your panties to the side and playing with your cunt. Rubbing your sensitive bud in circular motions and running his fingers down to your throbbing hole, dipping them just enough to pleasure you but not enough to satisfy the craving. He was torturing you. Torturing himself.

"Mm... Billy please," you moaned and grabbed his big hand, pushing his fingers all the way inside you and whining at the feeling of finally being filled up. It still wasn't enough but fuck did it feel amazing when he started to fuck you with his fingers.

You throbbed around him and he groaned at the feeling.

"Fuck baby, you feel so good... I bet you'll feel better around my dick," he whispered in your ear as you fucked yourself with his fingers.

You grabbed his cock and felt how big he is. Gosh you were so right when you imagined him as you rode your dildo in your room alone at night.

"Mmphh... Please fuck me," you begged and Billy pulled his fingers out of your cunt, sucking on them teasingly and moaning at your taste.

He pulled you towards him by your thighs and you wrapped your arms around his neck instinctively. He held your legs around his middle and carried you to his and your mother's bedroom.

After he released you, you crawled on the bed and positioned yourself on the edge on all fours, giving him a perfect view of your behind. You slowly removed your thong for him and revealed your glistening cunt.

Billy groaned at the sight and pulled his sweatpants down just enough to release his throbbing cock. He wanted to eat you up and taste your whole body but right then he couldn't handle the sight of your waiting hole. He'd been wanting to bury himself inside you for so long, and when he finally did you both moaned at the same time.

He didn't bother to wear protection and you honestly didn't give a fuck at that point. You didn't care if your stepfather knocked you up, as fucked up as it sounds.

"Ahh fuck... Harder Daddy, harder!" You nearly screamed, and to that he complied.

Billy grabbed your hips harshly and pounded you hard enough that you felt his cock all the way up your stomach. He pressed your head against the mattress, your back arched perfectly for him and the sight of your ass cheeks bouncing against him was nearly enough to make him cum inside you, but he was smarter than that of course.

"Getting fucked by your stepfather, who does that?" He shamed you and it made you throb around him. You were nearly going to cum just by hearing his words, it was a chase for release between the two of you.

After a few more thrusts the knot inside you finally broke as his tip brushed against your gspot. You came around him and screamed at the feeling of the intense waves that were coursing through your body. You had one, two, three mini orgasms after the big O and fuck you needed more.

Billy nearly bust his load inside your sweet pussy, but he managed to pull out and cum all over your back. He took a mental picture at how good your body looked covered in his seed.

"I'll clean up the mess for you," he whispered teasingly before giving you a lingering kiss.

As he walked into the bathroom you heard the front door open. Your mom and Stus voice echoed in the living room.

Fuck.

"I'll take care of it..."

•

I know I know, we hate cliffhangers but I love teasing y'all :p ;)

Hope you enjoyed reading <33

[hamliet]

Adolescence Review (by someone who used to work in child protection)

Recently watched Netflix's Adolescence and it was probably the best TV series I've seen. It's superbly acted (how was this Owen Cooper's first role?), fascinatingly filmed (every single episode is shot in one take), and brimming with empathy and nuance.

It also resonates personally with me. Once upon a time, I worked in child protection for a year. I've worked with kids like the main subject of the series, Jamie Miller. I can't and won't give details, but this series probably captures the heart-wrenching, soul-crushing reality of what it's like to work with kids who do horrific crimes.

Episode 1 is an excruciatingly detailed account of the dehumanization of arrest and imprisonment, and that's even with everyone doing their best to be kind to Jamie because he's a child (13, but looks younger). I guarantee you most cops don't try to be nice to most intakes.

There's really only one moment where a cop is cruel until the interrogation, and that's when Jamie's being strip-searched. The man conducting the search tells his father, who asks, in essence, "how would you feel if you were thirteen and strangers wanted to do this to you?" that "I was never accused of a crime." Well, bully for you, jerk-face.

Yet the viewer also understands the cruel necessity of having to conduct such a search, while also wanting to throw up. I do think a lot of the discourse around juvenile criminals resorts to "throw away the key" without considering what that means, and what humiliation and abuse kids go through when they're arrested (rightfully or wrongfully). The show following each and every motion and forcing the viewer to observe the father's face rather than the actual search forces the viewer to face their own thoughts on juvenile justice (especially because, at this point, you don't know whether Jamie did it).

But at the same time as Jamie is dehumanized in this way, you're confronted with the reality of how much he's dehumanized his victim at the end of the episode, when you see that he absolutely, 100% did do it. This thread of how Jamie dehumanizes women in particular continues in Episode 3.

Episode 2 is easily the weakest of the series. It's still great and offers, via a chaotic school with checked-out adults who can't care anymore and adults who do care completely overwhelmed and limited by their own humanity, a symbolic picture of what teenagers face. How can they learn when they aren't willing to listen? At the same time, how can they learn when no one is teaching? How can people teach when they are drowning themselves?

My criticism here is that the school appeared not exactly unrealistic, but also slightly hyperbolized. I think they could have stressed the struggles of trying to care when there's too much to care for even more than they did via an additional episode, an episode I think the second one almost introduced and then left dangling--one that focused on Katie's loved ones.

We hear about Katie's mom, and we meet Jade and see her rage over losing her best friend. We even see one detective voice how frustrating it is that Jamie will be remembered but Katie won't be. I wouldn't quite call this lip service because I do think the aim of the show isn't quite about this, but I do think the show should have spent an episode on Jade and/or Katie's family.

We know Katie isn't perfect as a victim, but that doesn't mean in any way that she deserved to be stabbed to death (or to have her pictures leaked). In fact, the show makes this emphatically clear. But I still think they missed a chance to make her more human, to show the loss through her loved ones.

If Episode 2 is the slightly-less-than-the-others episode, Episode 3 is the standout. The psychologist examines Jamie and he vacillates between inappropriately flirting with the psychologist to childishly requesting more hot chocolate to terrifyingly screaming in rage to sobbing in fear like a child in a nightmare to condescendingly mocking her like a rabid fan of Elon's would to desperately trying to wrench away the reality of what he did and trying to talk himself out of facing reality. And Owen Cooper, the child actor, makes all of this believable.

The reality is that the cruelty of what Jamie's done sinks in during Episode 3. He tells his psychologist that most other guys who have assaulted their victim, but he didn't, so he's better, right? And then he screams and sobs minutes later begging for someone to tell him that they like him, anyone. I found myself wanting to grab the psychologist and beg her to say that she "cared" (something I said in a similar moment during my work doing child protection). But I also understand why she didn't--not just professionally, but in terms of Jamie having to realize that he can't be entitled to people liking him when he's so cruel to women.

The psychologist also asks Jamie if he understands what death is. While he says all the right words to show he does, everyone over the age of 20 knows that he doesn't, and the show knows it too. I genuinely think that, until you get older, you cannot fully understand what it means for someone to be gone from this earth.

And therein lies the paradox of the show: Jamie doesn't fully understand what he's done. At the same time, what he's done has permanent, gruesome, irreversible consequences for everyone around him--and beyond that, because of the internet's influence beyond local boundaries.

Episode 4 is an episode I would call beautiful in a lot of ways, despite the fact that it's jagged and raw. We follow Jamie's family (dad, mom, and older sister) as they try to celebrate the dad's birthday about a year after the crime. We see how they're wrestling with the fallout and agony of knowing they raised Jamie--but they also raised Lisa, who is kind of an awesome kid.

And while Episode 1 actually has detectives musing that the parents might be abusive and that might explain it, this episode removes any doubts: Eddie and Amanda, Jamie's parents, are good parents. They are not perfect. Eddie has a temper. Amanda should have monitored his computer use more. But also? No parents are perfect. Arguably, the detective who interacts with his son in Episode 2 is a worse parent than they are. Yet his son is great, and Lisa is great.

There simply isn't a good explanation. Jamie was hurting, yes, but his pain can't be pinned down to a singular cause. The internet hurt him and gave him messages about masculinity that were harmful to say the least. But he also got those messages at school, even if he wasn't on the internet. And he got love at home, as well as some flawed interactions with his parents.

So who is responsible for Jamie's actions? Jamie himself. He chose.

Yet, the series also acknowledges that Jamie is a child, and he is not just "born bad." We see how other kids, like Jade punching Ryan, and Ryan loaning Jamie the knife, and Tommy joking around, and the bully leaking Katie's pictures--they have no comprehension of the extreme ramifications of their actions... but some of them also don't appear to care to learn. Normally, society would demand they care to learn, but that's not happening.

So then what? If society creates these kids, then what does society owe them? That's a question the series wants viewers to walk away contemplating, rather than giving a simple answer.

And there is some hope: Jamie deciding to plead guilty and accept responsibility. In that, we see how kids are supposed to be able to make mistakes and learn and grow. Yet Jamie's "mistake" is so shattering that Katie will never get to grow beyond it because of him, and to what degree Jamie can after pleading guilty isn't clear either. And in an era where their every action is captured online, can they ever really grow beyond?

I don't know that I have an answer to that. I've seen some kids I worked with grow up to be awesome. And I've lost touch with others, particularly those whose cases were more serious. There is no agony like seeing a child who has done something horrific and is suffering themselves and knowing you can't save them, and not knowing what the future holds for them. All you're left with is being able to hope that they'll learn to accept responsibility and grow, but in a system and society that makes that really impossible, is that even much of a hope?

[notbecauseofvictories]

here’s my question: how do you have so many hobbies? i just started a regular office job and it’s fine and lovely but i get home and i want to turn into mush—no thoughts. i was super creative and thoughtful in undergrad bc it was my job to write for class and i miss it but it’s not like that anymore

I have two answers to this---one practical, and the other existential.

The practical answer is that, as with many things in life, cultivating a life outside of work requires practice. Three years ago, I talked about this with regard to reading for pleasure; it applies to other hobbies as well. So be patient with yourself! Get used to the job; get used to the grind of commuting and computers and meetings and emails. The more comfortable and used to it you get, the more energy and attention you'll have for other things. I know I bring up exercise with alarming regularity for someone shaped like a moldy potato, but it really is like exercise. I've been working on cultivating hobbies and things other than work since 2020. If you want to try…start small. 5lb weights. Don't worry so much about the powerlifters. (They started with 5lbs too.)

The existential answer is that one day, you will wake up on a Saturday---or maybe a Sunday, that works too---or maybe it will be late at night, as the clock flips over to 2am---you know what, the timing isn't important. The point is that you will be lying in bed, warm and snug and theoretically content with the world. Thinking of the day ahead or behind you, dwelling on nothing in particular.

Then, very suddenly a quiet, cold-blooded thought will swim to the surface of your mind. In that moment, you will think with a mounting dread:

Wait, is this...is this it?

It probably won't happen tomorrow, or next year, or even five years from now. If you have a spouse to espouse or children to parent, family members to care for, a highly-intensive job, etc. it might not happen for decades. The thought might rouse briefly, then sink back to the depths of your subconscious to sleep on. But at some point, you will look around at your life and you will wonder if this is all. If this is it. If life is just animal needs, paying bills, sometimes seeing your friends on a Saturday, and watching whatever is on netflix. And if that's all life is, just a finite count of days to be used and used up without any greater purpose or plan....where does that leave you? What are you, just some half-sunk and shattered visage? Will anything you love, you built, survive you? If not, what are all those days for?

....there are many, many ways to deal with this. You can go on a screaming bender, buy a shiny red corvette, travel the world, find religion. You can read deeply on any topic of your choosing, join activist groups or yoga studios, or give a TED talk; change your job, change your spouse, change your gender. I don't know if anyone has solved an existential crisis, but human history is littered with attempts.

Or you can swear at your fucking sewing machine because it keeps breaking the goddamn thread and you're just trying to sew straight lines what the fuck is with this motherfucking thing oh my fucking jesus

[youarewhatyoulove-blog]

the violence of the dog days.

pairing: jeongguk x reader

summary: In the midst of summertime, after a week of neglect, your boyfriend has a way of making you feel even more heated.

OR

you're hot and horny for jeongguk.

rating: mature🔞 (minors please dni)

genre: non-idol au, college au, established relationship, smut, fluff, pwp

word count: 9.2k words of unadulterated smut.

warnings: reader and jeongguk are absolute horny simps for each other, but they're also so inlove, soft boyfriend jeongguk (because yes that is a warning), jeongguk is a law student (oof), overuse of the petname 'baby', reader hasn't been getting it seven days a week😔, switch jeongguk (kinda), hair pulling, hickeys, making out, thigh riding, nipple play (jeongguk is proudly a boob guy), religious imagery because jeongguk worships reader like a god, usage of the words 'c*nt' and 'p*ssy' (because i know some people are iffy about that), cunnilingus (f-receiving), jeongguk is low-key a sadist y'all (in his fantasies), a bit of dom/sub dynamics, prayers for reader because jeongguk's got that big d🙏🏽, unprotected sex, doggy style, degradation, a teeny weeny bit of overstimulation, creampie - like this is just pure smut guys 😬, possessive sex, choking, aftercare, reader kinda hints at having attachment issues (but don't we all).

author's note: 1. please ignore any typos :). of course, i'd appreciate any feedback or constructive criticism. but if you find yourself uncomfortable by any of the themes in this fic, there's no need for hate, just kindly move on. 2. also, this is a lot longer and softer than i intended. this fic was supposed to be purely hard smut, but i fell in love with the characters and their relationship, and some aspects of the story just turned out sickeningly sweet - so proceed with caution.

You're an hour into tossing and turning when you can't take it anymore.

The heat.

With June coming to a close end, the surviving remnants of summer creep in through your bedroom window with barely a whisper of a breeze. It clings to every part of your skin, that ever-lingering humidity thickening the air, and wraps itself around your body like a cloak. For some reason, you thought that scrolling aimlessly through the various apps on your phone would help distract your mind from the muggy weather or maybe, by some miracle, even lull you to sleep.

But it hasn’t—of course it hasn't. Because summer is here to stay, burrowing deep within your bones and making a home there. Each passing minute is a testament to that, insomnia creeping up your spine with ill intent and wriggling into every cranny of your mind until you feel like you're losing it.

Perhaps you are, you think.

Because when the desk fan a few feet away suddenly stops whirring and the fumbling grasp you had on sleep slips from your reach like a fleeting dream in the morning light as a result of it—drifting further and further away—you hit your breaking point. The lack of white noise and cool air blowing your way mounts your frustration into place. It hangs there in the ether like a looming shadow but, unlike your slumber, has no plans of deserting you.

With an annoyed huff, you drop your phone back onto the nightstand for the umpteenth time and kick your leg out from under the duvet.

“Fuck.” You sigh, rolling onto your back.

A thin sheen of sweat lingers on the surface of your skin, causing the sheets to stick uncomfortably to every part of your body. You spread your limbs out like a starfish in some futile attempt to cool them down, hoping that you'll catch a draft, but the action only reminds you of how largely cavernous your bed feels right now.

The space beside you is missing a particular doe-eyed boy and, as your hand brushes over the empty spot, you realize that it's not so much the seasonal heat that's making you feel weirdly restless, but rather Jeongguk's absence. In an inconveniently clingy way, you need his body settled next to you at night, your legs and arms a tangled mess beneath the blankets.

You don't know why that is. Why sleep eludes you like a compass without direction, unable to find its way to you when Jeongguk isn't near. But you don't mull over it or give the thought a foothold to stand amongst the endless anxieties already in your head.

All you know is that cuddling up with him in the evening is perhaps one of your favourite pastimes. Akin to a baby with it's bottle, falling asleep in his embrace is something you've grown incredibly used to, maybe even a little dependent on—like a security blanket or night-light—and there's nothing you can do about it.

Sneaking a glance towards the dim light spilling in from beneath the bedroom door, you picture Jeongguk on the other side. Chances are, he’s still where you last left him. Sitting cross-legged on the couch with a laptop balancing carefully on his lap, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, as he catches up on coursework.

You worry your lip, the thought of your boyfriend causing your mind to wander...

He looked so good tonight; adorned in a pair of grey sweats and a baggy t-shirt with his tattoos fully exposed. His dark hair was strewn across his forehead, falling into his eyes in a way that made your fingers itch.

You, on the other hand, are sporting an old, oversized shirt you opted to steal from Jeongguk's wardrobe to combat the high temperatures, but it hasn't helped much. The heat still loiters, creeping up the back of your neck and imbuing your cheeks with warmth.

It makes you long for winter, for the bitter nip of frosty ice and pelting rain, and the desire for that inadvertently reminds you of that fucking silver lip ring Jeongguk had gotten recently.

The memory of its cold, metal sting against your lips as he kissed you goodnight sends a distant, carnal hum coursing throughout your veins. It's probably tugged anxiously between his teeth right now whilst he types away, eyes deadset on the screen before him, and the image of that sends you reeling. Makes your skin flush further, yearning to feel its steel bite again.

For some reason, it propels you into motion, skin prickling as you throw your legs over the edge of the mattress without a second thought.

The last thing you want to do is bother his progress or interrupt his work, but selfishly, you persist. That gnawing feeling deep within your chest is too hard to ignore, heart beating voraciously with each step you take because it longs to be satiated by Jeongguk's presence. Your boyfriend is only one room over, just four thin walls separating the two of you, yet still—you miss him, want him.

Treading lightly, you hear the persistent click-clack of his keyboard and the muffled sound of typing only grows louder as you step out into the hallway. The wooden flooring is frigid beneath your feet, a sensation you immediately relish in as soon as the fiery crawl of discomfort across your skin begins to lessen. Your shirt—or more precisely, Jeongguk’s shirt—falls flat from your waist, landing a few inches above your knees, as you wander further into the apartment.

Just as you’d predicted, Jeongguk is all pretzelled up on the sofa, too focused on his work to hear you enter. A few empty bottles of soju and convenience store snacks litter the coffee table, serving as silent witnesses to the length of time he's been out here. He must have dimmed the lights as well because a faint, warm glow shrouds every facet of the room, making him look particularly soft at this hour.

You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around the length of his shoulders as you bend over the couch's headrest to envelop him in a hug. ”Hey,” You hum softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Jeongguk startles slightly at the contact, shaken from his deep concentration as he angles his head to look up at you. “Shit, baby. You scared me.” He breathes, voice rough from disuse. It rumbles through you like a distant thunderstorm, body vibrating with electricity.

“Sorry,” You murmur, glancing at the assignment he's been working on and tiny pangs of guilt gradually trickle into your stomach. “I didn't mean to disturb you, but-”

“You're not disturbing me.” Jeongguk instantly reassures, scanning your face with a knowing look. “Can’t sleep?” He asks and you nod, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The scent of his body wash immediately encompasses you like a warm embrace, wild pinewood and bergamot invading your senses.

“I thought you’d be in bed by now.” You mumble against his skin, unable to hide the pout in your voice.

Jeongguk frowns, eyes flickering to the time at the bottom of his laptop screen.

Shit, he hadn’t even noticed how late it’s gotten, the hours skulking along the cusp of a new day. He should probably be turning in for the night, head to bed and worry about this project tomorrow, but he’d rather not postpone his responsibilities. Not when you’re staying over the weekend and he could be spending that time with you instead.

“I know.” Jeongguk responds, hand coming up to intertwine with yours. “I’ll be there soon, okay?” He promises, bringing your knuckles to his lips. The featherlight kiss he presses there soothes you like a curative balm.

“Okay,” You relent, untangling yourself from his body. “But, can I stay here for a bit? It’s too hot in there.” You half lie, gesturing towards the bedroom while simultaneously walking over to the kitchen only a few feet away.

“Yeah, of course.” He murmurs, eyes following your movements.

“Thanks, Kook.” You smile, sparing him a glance over your shoulder as your eyes sparkle with mirth. “By the way, your fan broke down again.”

“Again?” He laments, eyebrows furrowed together whilst he runs a disgruntled hand through his hair. “I seriously need to get that old thing repaired or maybe even replaced.” He grumbles to himself, before a guilty afterthought occurs at the sight of you. “Fuck, I'm so sorry, baby. No wonder you couldn't sleep.”

You don't tell him that it's not so much the heat keeping you awake but, more so, him.

“No, don't worry about it.” You settle on instead, trying to dispel his concerns. “It's not your fault.”

This isn't the first time that Jeongguk’s fan has given him problems. He's had the thing since high school; so it’s no surprise that the motor tends to give in every now and then, running a little too hot. He’s been meaning to get the issue sorted, but hasn’t really found the time to do that these days.

“Plus, I'd much rather be out here with you.” You add.

Jeongguk smiles at you so sweetly then, dimples making an appearance, and your body flushes all over, burning once again.

God, what is wrong with you tonight?

You need to calm down, cool down. At this rate, you feel like an overheating engine, bound to crash in on yourself and combust.

Grabbing a glass of ice water from the fridge dispenser, you rein yourself in, distracting your mind with conversation. “I promise not to be a bother though, like you won't even notice I'm here.” You say, before chugging the cold liquid down on the spot, completely ignorant to the way that Jeongguk drinks you in.

A welcome sight is what you are, so cute tonight with your hair all mussed, practically drowning in his shirt. “You’re never a bother.” He responds, mouth going dry when you lean back to empty the glass. The action causes your shirt to hike up, the creamy expanse of your thighs further exposed to his hungry eyes.

He feels his dick stir at the sight.

“How much longer do you think you’ll be?” You ask, wiping your lips with the back of your palm, as you place your cup in the sink and shuffle over towards your boyfriend.

“Uhh…” Jeongguk clears his throat, broken out of his stupor. He turns back to face his laptop, skimming the Word document that's open before him when he feels you nestle into his side a second later. Automatically, he brings a hand down to rest against your leg.

“I’m not sure,” He grumbles, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your bare thigh. The absent-minded touch ignites something in you, skin blazing at the contact, and you try your best to suppress the goosebumps that rise in Jeongguk’s wake. “Maybe another hour or so?” He guesses.

“Oh.” You mumble and, although you fight the disappointed curl of your lips, Jeongguk doesn’t miss the deflated look on your face.

“I’m sorry,” He squeezes your thigh apologetically, frown overtaking his pretty features. “I know it’s been a while since we spent time together.”

A week exactly, you note, but ultimately keep that detail to yourself. After all, neither one of you is to blame for being so busy, constantly caught between work and university.

You think that's maybe the reason you're feeling so needy tonight, body set ablaze by every minor look and touch from your boyfriend. In a way, you're feeling a little neglected since your relationship’s taken the backseat, not by choice but by consequence, and you don’t know how to deal with it.

“It's fine.” You shrug. "It's not like we can help it.”

You try to be nonchalant about the matter, injecting the slightest hint of indifference into your tone, but Jeongguk sees right through you.

He always does.

“Come here.” He says suddenly, voice soft as he shifts his laptop onto the coffee table.

You look up at him, confusion clear on your face.

“What?” You blink, but your question falls on deaf ears because Jeongguk merely uncrosses his legs and pats his lap.

“Come here,” He then repeats and reaches for your waist.

You're uncertain for the briefest of moments, eyeing Jeongguk suspiciously, before you ultimately give in like malleable clay in his soft hands, allowing him to pull you onto his lap with ease. “I've been working for hours.” He grumps once you're comfortably straddling his waist, hands resting on either side of your hips. “Hardly seen you since you got here.”

You hum, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth in thought. It's no secret that you've been spending a lot more time at Jeongguk's place in lieu of your ratty little dorm room. You felt bad about it at first, feeling as though you were invading his space and overstaying your welcome. But your boyfriend couldn't be happier about it. He rather likes the idea of your lives interlocking, melding together as if they were puzzle pieces falling into place. He likes that when he's working, like on nights like this, that you're just on the opposite side of the door, not one phone call or car ride away.

He likes that you're his and he is, equally as much, yours.

“I wanted to leave you to your work.” You explain, curling your arms around his neck. Your fingers absentmindedly play with the ends of his hair that have grown out and the light touch only brings about the memory of how much he has missed you these past few days.

“Well, it's about time I take a break, don't you think?” Jeongguk muses and you become hyper-aware of the way his fingers brush up your spine. “Give my girl some attention…” He trails on, eyes flickering to your lips.

You practically preen at the idea, smiling shyly as you lean into his touch. “I wouldn't object to that.” Your heart patters in your chest, beating wildly at the mere sight of Jeongguk. At the thought of him finally touching you, kissing you, quenching your thirst after this week-long drought. “I've missed you.”

Jeongguk chuckles faintly. “Me too, baby.” He murmurs, perching his head upwards to press his lips against yours.

The kiss is gentle, chaste, his plush lips feeling so featherlight against yours. You almost imagine they were never there to begin with because Jeongguk pulls away before you can truly savour the taste of them.

“You know, you look so pretty in my clothes.” He begins, large hand spreading lazily around your left hip and up your back. “Kinda makes me want to wreck you.”

“You already wreck me.” You breathe without missing a beat.

“Yeah?” Jeongguk rasps, his voice low and a little dark. It sends a thrill straight up your spine.

You nod in response, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “No one makes me feel the way you do.” You admit, eyes flitting across his face. It's an unwavering truth—one that simultaneously scares and excites you in this quiet dead of night.

“Can I kiss you again?” The words come out as a breathy whisper; as if you've been holding on to them for too long, as if they're the oxygen you so desperately need to breathe, and Jeongguk tilts his head, bewildered frown on his face.

“How is that even a question.” He gripes, slanting his head in a means to meet your mouth halfway, but you have another idea.

You press into him instead, leaning forward, and set out to peck lovingly along the curvature of Jeongguk’s jawline. He huffs in amusement, endeared by the way you take control. Because, although he’s usually the dominant one in the bedroom, he doesn't mind when you take charge like this. In fact, he's grown to love it. Loves the way you come into your own, toying and teasing with him, until your own actions cause you to grow desperate.

It's one of his greater weaknesses, his Achilles heel, and right now, you want nothing more than to expose it. Unveil a certain side of him. The one that'll see how far you can push before he starts to push back. The one that'll give in and take you right here on this couch after he's entertained your antics for long enough and you finally beg him to fuck you.

Your body practically hums at the thought.

You map out his skin, lips brushing against the surface like you're exploring a new land. Every movement careful, every touch claiming what's yours. And it almost goes to your head—how quickly Jeongguk submits to your mouth’s assault, his body relaxing into the couch like he's letting you have your way with him.

Jeongguk doesn't tell you that he is. That your lips are a holy grail he'd happily yield to.

When your teeth graze lightly at a particular soft spot below his ear, he lets out a small groan, eyes falling closed at the sensation. You feel the sound roll through you, the ache between your legs becoming hard to ignore when you think about the fact that you've roused that melody from his mouth.

It spurs you on, makes you want to hear it again and again. You want to paint the entire column of his neck red and then watch your confession of love fade to a bruised purple in the weeks to come. You want to rediscover all the ways that you can make Jeongguk sing, and the way your body dances to his tune in turn. Your lips lap him up, kisses becoming indelicate with desperation, teeth nipping with intent along his upper jaw, tongue tracing over the skin before you repeat all these gestures twicefold.

You can feel yourself growing wet, relish in the way that Jeongguk's hands tighten around your form. “Shit,” He mumbles and your body crows. Without pause, you shift against his lap and move to the neglected side of his neck, targeting the skin there. You can feel him getting hard beneath you, your core situated right above his growing erection, and it causes a shiver to run down your spine.

You plant a few messy kisses against his throat, nibbling vehemently, but then Jeongguk tuts and pries his eyes open before you have the opportunity to really sink your teeth into him.

“Baby,” He warns, curling a hand into your hair to form a makeshift ponytail. “No marks. I've got a presentation on Monday.” He says and pulls you back by an inch. His movements are somewhat hesitant, voice rough, like he's not entirely sure he truly wants you to stop.

But he has to. He can't afford to show up to class on Monday and present the most important project of his life with hickeys all over his neck.

“Next time.” He promises, but you consider outright ignoring him for a second, even though it's nonsensical, like some twisted form of punishment for a week of neglect.

But it’s Jeongguk—Jeongguk who’s been extra stressed lately about completing his degree. Jeongguk who’s carving time out of working on his big assignment right now—one which, not only counts forty percent of his grade, but could also earn him an internship at one of the top law firms in Seoul if he's lucky enough—all to pay special attention to you.

So, “Fine.” You give in, albeit a little petulantly, and brace your hands against his chest, face feeling flushed. “I’m sorry. I just wanna be close to you is all.”

“I know. Me too.” He rasps, grip on your hair loosening a touch, but not completely. “We don't have to stop though, just don't mark me up.” He explains, free hand rubbing up and down your thigh.

“Okay,” You slide your palms up his chest, feeling the toned muscles tense beneath your touch. “I really love you, you know?”

Jeongguk's eyes soften, a hint of a smile creeping up on his face. “I know,” He hums, tugging at your hair in a way that makes your scalp tingle. “But I don't think it comes close to how much I love you.” He rasps, using his grip as leverage to pull your head backwards until the delicate skin of your throat is exposed. “It's incomparable.” He murmurs, placing a single kiss on the side of your mouth before he travels south, lips peppering across your jawline.

You shiver, hands twisting into the thick material of Jeongguk's t-shirt. You want to tell him that it's not a competition, that you'd love him until the sun stops rising and, even if this one week of distance had been more, you know that he feels the same.

But the heavy palpitations in your chest causes the words to dissolve on your tongue because Jeongguk pulls the collar of your shirt to the side a second later, exposing more of your skin, before he traces a path along your décolletage. He's touching you like a starved man, mouth just as desperate and feverish as you’re starting to feel.

A stuttered gasp escapes your lips, your hands moving upwards, unsure of where to be, when he nips at a particularly sensitive spot. You settle them on his shoulders.

“Jeongguk,” You moan, the tingling between your legs maturing into an unbearable ache.

“I know, baby.” He abruptly pulls away from your clavicle—lips red, eyes blown. “Tell me what you want.”

His demand goes over your head because you don't know what you want; can barely think straight with the lingering feeling of Jeongguk's lips on your neck. With the growing wetness sticking uncomfortably to your panties. With the burning, hot embers laying at the base of your stomach, begging to be set ablaze. And Jeongguk knows that. Knows that you're neither here nor there, only somewhere in the middle, teetering on the line of endless choices. So he lets go of your hair then, manoeuvres your body until you're straddling only his left thigh.

“Don't think about it, baby.” He murmurs, both hands moving to your hips. He guides them back and forth, slow and gentle, with just enough pressure to relieve that desperate throbbing in your pussy. “Just feel.”

And you do, sinking into your own little bubble, a paradise as impenetrable as the gates of heaven. You take your time to grind up against him, moving in tandem with the flow of his hands and a soft whimper climbs up your throat at the sensation of your clit brushing against the firm muscles of Jeongguk’s thigh. You're already so soaked, underwear absolutely sodden from the relentless pendular motions of your pelvis, and when you look down to find a dark, damp spot beginning to stain Jeongguk's sweatpants, you can't help but intensify your movements.

It should be embarrassing, how quickly you've become turned on, how much you're dripping, when Jeongguk's barely touched you, but instead you just feel liberated. Pure power coursing through your veins because your boyfriend has given you the reins, is letting you use his body like a bitch in heat, and it's exhilarating; intoxicating every facet of your mind.

“That's it,” Jeongguk purrs, deserting your hips once you gain momentum to instead sneak both hands up the hem of your shirt.

Your breath escapes its chambers when he trails past the soft curve of your waist and straight to your breasts. “Fuck, you're so beautiful.” He grunts, gaze intent on your every reaction, like he's watching artwork unfold. His nimble fingers circle your nipples, tracing them with the most tantalizing pattern, until they begin to harden.

“Please,” You choke, clasping his shirt in between your fists like it's some sort of lifeline. You're not even sure what you're begging for, pace quickening as you ride Jeongguk’s thigh more aggressively. Every rut forward sends sparks shooting throughout your body, nerve endings alight, and when Jeongguk pinches your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, your back arches in pleasure. A throaty moan penetrates the room otherwise filled with nothing but your uneven pants and the sound of Jeongguk's voice.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” He groans, hands inching towards your shirt’s lower seam. He drags it over your torso, itching for better access to your breasts. Even in your muddled state, you meet him halfway, raising your arms above your head until the damned thing is off and you're left in nothing but your lacy underwear.

You hardly have time to adjust to the humid air hitting your torso, when Jeongguk tips his head forward, enveloping your right nipple into his mouth with reckless abandon. The response is instantaneous, a strangled sob slipping past your lips at the feeling of his warm mouth encased around your stiffened peak. His tongue swipes across your nipple, shockwaves manifesting at the blissful contact, and you don't know how much longer you're going to last—an embarrassing feat you don’t ponder on too much.

Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the attention Jeongguk pays you. Whimpering when the pads of his fingers move to fondle the nipple of your forsaken breast while the other submits to his mouth’s pleasurable torment, each purposeful pinch causing them to tighten all the more. Your skin feels like it's on fire, the warmth of Jeongguk's touch igniting the cinders glowing from deep within your belly. “I-I think,” You swallow, your pussy rubbing deliciously into Jeongguk's leg. “I think I'm going to come soon,” You manage to admit through a repressed whine, voice so strained it sounds foreign even to your own ears.

You don't think you've ever hit an orgasm this quickly. You've never had to. Because you and Jeongguk are like inseparable magnets; every atom in your bodies drawn to each other, always connecting like two poles seeking the other out—never going more than a few days without some form of intimacy. Never mind a week.

At least, not until now.

So when Jeongguk bounces his leg upwards to meet the force of your pussy coming down on his quadricep, adding to the way you slam into him, your clit positively throbbing at the impact, you feel the onset of that familiar coil in your stomach tightening.

“Just let go, baby.” Jeongguk rasps, granting you permission with one final flick of your nipples and then you're coming undone, white fiery heat flooding every fiber of your body, as you cry out his name. Only his name, forever on your lips. You feel the way your entire form convulses, the way Jeongguk helps you through it, flexing his thigh so that you can get the most out of your orgasm, and your hips buck forward—unrelenting and greedy—before they finally ease into a slow rut. Grinding into him until the receding, minuscule waves of pleasure begin to fade.

With the last few clenches of your pulsating core, you slowly catch your breath, muscles slackening as you become pliant in Jeongguk's arms, the weight of your body suddenly too much for you to bear. Your boyfriend holds you tight though, both hands moving to your waist to keep you secure.

Behind the darkness of your closed eyelids; you hear Jeongguk softly murmur your name and feel the way his hand comes up to your face, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear before he cups your cheeks. “You okay, angel?” He asks, voice emerging as a hushed tone.

When you manage to tear your eyes open and give him a soft, affirmative nod, Jeongguk seems satisfied, pressing a delicate kiss to your sternum before he shifts you from his lap and onto your back in one fell, but gentle swoop.

Your head hits the soft leather of the sofa with the aftermath of your climax still lingering against your skin like crackling electricity, fuzzing up your mind. “You think you can take more?” He asks, eyes flitting across your face to get a read on your current state of mind.

You nod your head assuredly, reaching out to make a grab for his body, to bring him closer. “Yeah I can,” You say confidently, arm's snaking up his back to explore the taut muscles that reside there.

Jeongguk is hovering over your body, thigh pressed hotly between your legs, and even though you can feel the rush of arousal, brought on only a second ago, pooling uncomfortably in your underwear—you want more. You want him. “I want to carry on.”

Jeongguk studies your demeanour, casting your body and expression a careful once-over, because he wants to feel you, be in you, wants to make you see stars. But it's only a matter of whether you're able to handle that right now. He has barely had his way with you, but you already look so fucked out, so perfect for him. It makes the blood rush straight to his dick. “You make me crazy.” He rasps, eyes locking with yours as he brings a hand up, tracing his thumb along your bottom lip.

You almost cower beneath his touch, beneath the sincerity of his gaze; appraising the very depths of your being as if you were a delicate treasure, as if he were staring at a god or something of a divine beauty.

Jeongguk thinks that maybe he is; thinks you’re the light, the one thing he’d worship morning, noon and night through blind faith. And there are barely enough words in the dictionary for him to express this notion to you, so instead he settles for “I love you.” Voice as rough as the high tides, but softer than moonlight.

He feels compelled to tell you this every chance he gets, a hopeless slave to his feelings for you. “Like I've never loved anything else in my life.” He continues. It's a quiet confession in the night, not a new one, but the words mean just as much as the first time he admitted them to you.

You feel yourself melt, can't remember ever feeling this cherished. Not since before Jeongguk and hopefully, never after. “I love you too.” You murmur, taking a moment to drink in every detail of the man who has left you restless all night.

Your eyes flicker over the defined cut of his jaw. The delicate curve of his lips and the pretty mole resting just beneath it. The small kissable scar on his cheek. The feathery flutter of his eyelashes. The strands of hair that have fallen over his face, and you retract your hand from his back to push them away.

How did you ever get this lucky?

“So much.” You emphasize and your voice thickens with the weight of your words, spoken from the very depths of your soul. “More than you could ever know.” Because there aren't enough words in the dictionary to get this notion across, so instead you lift your head, planting a firm kiss to Jeongguk’s lips as if sealing a vow, a promise of forever.

Jeongguk receives your kiss like he does with everything else related to you; openly, hungrily. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip—once—twice—and you instantly become pliant under his weight. Your fingers find his hair, tangling into the dark tresses as you deepen the kiss. It’s hot and it’s heavy, and in the distant part of your mind, you register that Jeongguk tastes like peaches, most likely from the alcohol he’s been drinking.

The sweetness of his lips immediately goes to your head; drunk and euphoric, and all grace flies out the window the next second. “Touch me,” You murmur breathlessly against his mouth, fingertips skimming over the nape of his neck. “Please, I need you.”

Jeongguk groans, a husky sound resonating from deep within his throat. “Fuck,” You can feel how rock hard he’s gotten, his erection pressing into your inner thigh and it's making you delirious with need. “I’ll give you anything you want.” Jeongguk rumbles, his mouth forming a wet, messy trek away from yours to embrace the flesh of your breasts.

You want to tell him that it's him, only him you want. Puppeteering your every move, body relinquishing itself to his touch. But you don't. You can't, not when Jeongguk's teeth leave scarlet marks across your chest that render you mute, words evaporating on your tongue like sacramental bread.

“My pretty baby,” He coos tenderly and you fight the urge to rut up against him. “Always so fucking ready for me.“ He praises, kisses traveling southward and it burns, searing, everywhere that Jeongguk touches you. You think you might erupt or shatter, and nothing less, if he doesn't meet you where you really need him to, your cunt begging to be satiated with his fingers, or his tongue, or his dick—anything.

A whimper escapes your lips, an embarrassing, desperate sound hanging in the thick air, as you glance down past your heaving breasts. You watch as Jeongguk abandons your boobs, planting a trail of kisses across the expanse of your stomach, your hip bones—takes the tiny little ribbon on your underwear between his teeth and tugs. The deliberate gesture causes your panty to rise up a bit, ever so slightly brushing against your clit in the process, and you bite down on your bottom lip, holding back an ungodly moan.

You can't take it anymore, all this teasing.

Jeongguk can read it on your face; sees it in the way you swiftly tilt your head back, eyes closed, brows scrunched together. He knows you like the back of his hand, which is how he gauges that you've fallen back into a place of submission—done with the tortuous foreplay, done with calling the shots, done with delaying the inevitable. You want him to fuck you, to use your body the same way you had used his mere minutes ago. And if his dick could get any harder at the thought, it would.

Jeongguk licks his lips, slips a finger into the curve of your waistband as he murmurs, “I’m gonna take this off now, okay?”

You nod your head, not daring to open your eyes to confront the image of Jeongguk's face a mere hair's breadth away from your cunt. It's too erotic. Too much. You feel him drag the thin garment down your legs, a string of arousal following suit, and suddenly feel self-conscious, attempting to close your legs to hide how shamefully wet you are.

But Jeongguk's not having any of that.

He carelessly chucks the lacy material to the side like it’s nothing but a rag, a nuisance, and then grips your inner thigh. “Don't you dare,” He grunts, using his grasp to keep your legs apart, lifting them upwards until your knees are bent to your chest and your ankles are resting over his shoulders, giving him the perfect view of your dripping cunt.

You barely have time to register the ticklish feeling of Jeongguk's breath fanning against your core before he dives straight in, licking a long stripe across your pussy, and your hips instinctively buck up. “Shit,” You mewl, rejoicing in the way his tongue traverses from your slit to your clit, lapping up every drop of arousal.

Jeongguk groans, a sound so low, stemming from the heart of his diaphragm, when he samples that first morsel of your leaking nectar. You taste like heaven, so sweet and unbearably wet, and all just for him.

“So fucking good,” He grumbles, mouth drinking you in. His tongue is unrelenting in its efforts to devour your pussy, and the overwhelming sensation of him slurping and sucking—of him eating you out like a connoisseur tasting the rarest of delicacies—causes frenzied pools of pleasure to ripple within the base of your belly.

He keeps at it, nose brushing against your clit as a byproduct, and after a few minutes the pure, unwavering rapture of Jeongguk's tongue becomes excruciating. A feeling so good, it’s almost too much. “Jeongguk,” You wail, heels digging into the couch as you try to back away from his mouth, but your boyfriend merely hooks his arms around your legs and pulls you closer. Holding you in place; unable to run or escape from the ruthless onslaught of his tongue, from the metal bite of his piercing brushing against your lower lips. “I can't,” You cry, writhing beneath his touch.

With his grip keeping you firmly anchored, Jeongguk brings one hand down to toy with your swollen clit, fingers moving in languid, clockwise motions. “You can,” He grunts thickly, tongue slipping between your folds and prodding deliciously at your hole. “I know you can, baby.” He mumbles in between fucking your drenched pussy with his fleshy muscle.

You shake your head frantically, eyes screwed shut, as you feel the waves of your second orgasm surfacing. “Not like this,” You beg, using your hands to reach down, fingers twisting into his fluffy hair as you desperately try to push him away. “Please, I want you in me.” A sob runs free, your walls pulsating around nothing because Jeongguk is taking his time with you, teasing your opening like he's got all night. But you don't. You're close, so fucking close, you can feel it in the tightening muscles of your pelvis, in the quivering of your legs.

But Jeongguk isn't giving you enough. He isn't giving you what you need. Your boyfriend, in all his hot glory, is taking you there with his tongue, swirling insufferably along your orifice—bringing you right up to the edge of the plank with an ocean of pleasure waiting just below your feet, but then he pulls you back. Drags you from the precipice before you can allow yourself to fall in, and it causes a frustrated whine to escape your lips. You need his cock deep inside, filling you up, pushing you off the ledge and into troubled waters. Your pussy throbs at the very thought. “Please Kook,” You find yourself beseeching for the second time. “I wanna cum with you in me.”

And any thread of composure Jeongguk has been holding on to up until that point, snaps at the pure neediness burrowed within your tone.

He looks up at you; lips glistening, eyes dilated—a mess of a man. But you don't look any better—or, if you were getting a glimpse of yourself through Jeongguk's point of view, never better—skin flushed, gleaming with a fine film of sweat, lips swollen from the way you've been biting them, and all at once, Jeongguk is overcome with the desire to give you everything you've ever wanted.

“Fuck, okay,” He curses, rising to his knees and you force your eyes open at the rough edge tainting his voice, at the overwhelming relief of getting what you wished for. “But it’s going to be a bit of a stretch, baby.” He says, not having prepped you fully. It's been a while since the two of you have had sex and, if he had it his way, he would have given you his fingers first, would have warmed and widened your lubricated walls, to ease the initial discomfort of him entering you.

But you look so pretty beneath him, so impatient, and—“I can handle it,” You mollify, voice a sweet concoction of sultry persuasion.

He nods in response, a curt motion, because if he thinks about how eager you're being, about how you're willing to take a little bit of the pain for the insurmountable pleasure, he might just come right there. Might just think of all the other ways you like to hurt; of the way you'd react if his palm made rough contact with your ass cheeks, or what would happen if he handcuffed you to his bedpost and stuffed you full with a vibrator and butt plug—if he fucked you tonight with no end in sight. He wonders if you'd cry, if you'd beg him for more or want him to stop, sopping and spent. More than that, he wants so badly to find out.

Jeongguk’s dark eyes find yours, their typical doe-eyed demeanour having turned hooded a long time ago. Yours are twinkling with anticipation, watching intently as he pulls his sweatpants down, letting them hang low beneath his buttocks. His cock immediately springs free, slapping against his stomach, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip at the sight.

“Come here,” Jeongguk's voice carries a jagged intonation, raw and untamed, and breaks through you like crashing waves. But when he makes a grab for your body, his hands are nothing but gentle, hoisting you up onto your knees and positioning you on all fours.

With your ass bared before him, face pressed into the cold faux leather of the couch, Jeongguk smooths a hand down your back, watches with satisfaction as your spine yields before his touch, and then he takes a hold of his dick. Doesn't even bother giving it a few preliminary pumps because he's already painfully hard, precum leaking from the tip as he lines himself with your hole.

He doesn't put it in though.

First, he teases your little cunt with only the head of his length, not fully embedding himself within your warmth just yet. You whimper pathetically at the testing prod, fingers balling into frustrated fists, while Jeongguk watches in awe as your entrance narrows, pleading to be stuffed.

“God, look at you.” Jeongguk groans, eyes traveling from your glistening pussy to the state of your overall servile form.

He places one hand on your hip, fingers digging into the skin there, as he inches just the slightest bit forward, his dick slowly pushing into you. Your mouth parts at the sensation and you shakily prop yourself up onto your elbows, head falling forward with a moan. “So fucking needy, huh.” He goads when you attempt to meet him in the middle, subtly backing up against his pelvis.

“No,” You shake your head as if it's some sort of lie, as if you haven't been thinking about this moment since you stepped over the doorsill of Jeongguk’s apartment earlier. And your boyfriend laughs—he actually laughs—a maniacal, derisive sound that rings in your ears.

“There's no need to deny it, baby.” He drawls like smooth liquor hitting the back of your throat, a silky succour that, for some reason, has you dumbly nodding along. Because Jeongguk’s entering you more now, his dick fighting against the tight restraint of your heat, and you're too distracted by the feeling of it to fully comprehend what he's saying.

“I mean,” He continues, reaching down between your legs to gather the wetness clinging to your folds before he bends over your back, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You’d think you've never been fucked a day in your life.” He murmurs, bringing his slick fingers to your level of sight.

You flush instantly, burning at the way your arousal dwells on Jeongguk's digits and forms a translucent web when he parts them into a V shape. “I can't help it,” You breathe shamefully, about to protest that it's his fault for letting you go so long without attention, for not taking care of your sexual needs and making you this susceptible to moments of depravity, when Jeongguk fully entrenches himself into your heat without so much as a warning.

“Aah,” Your jaw slackens at the sudden stretch of his length against your walls, the sensation so unfairly delicious you find yourself clenching around the intrusion with a gasp, and your boyfriend uses the opportunity to stuff his letch-laiden fingers into your mouth.

“Clean them.” He grunts, lazily rocking forward and you choke back a moan, mouth instantly closing around his fingers. Head full of clouds, pussy filled to the brim, you obey. Your tongue licks up the juices stuck to his slim digits, gliding sensually across each one with care, and you vaguely hear Jeongguk curse below his breath, hips grinding into your core. “Fuck, just like that, angel.” He praises, allowing you to suck them clean for a few more seconds before he pulls them from your lips altogether with a lewd pop.

“Such a good girl,” He murmurs lovingly, pressing a singular kiss to your shoulder blade before he straightens to his full height behind you. “Always so perfect for me.”

Jeongguk's hands find your ass again and he gives the supple flesh a few gentle squeezes, savouring the way you whine in response.

“Please,” Your words come out embarrassingly broken and wretched, heart hammering in your chest with want, as you peek at Jeongguk over your shoulder. “Please, no more teasing. Just fuck me.”

“What do you think I'm doing?” Jeongguk asks, eyebrow raised, voice harbouring a hue of cockiness. He withdraws his thick length from your warm embrace at an agonizingly slow rate before thrusting right back in, repeating the motion steadily. “I'm fucking you right now, aren't I?”

You want to cry, your need to come so severe, it's starting to physically hurt.

Your fingers leave deep indents in the couch as you tackle the burning coals of frustration setting every inch of your body on fire. “M-More,” You stammer, feeling a pearl of arousal trickle down your thigh. You're so turned on right now, your mind an empty haze as Jeongguk edges you into oblivion, cunt so wet, you can barely feel the brush of his shaft against your walls anymore. “I need more.”

Jeongguk grins, feels the crown of his cock brush against a particular soft spot, and then decides to give you what you want. Because he loves it when you beg, when you become a blubbering mess beneath him, so cock-hungry, you forget yourself.

Without a moment's pause, Jeongguk pounds into you with unbridled vigour. His hips slap against your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room, and your body jerks forward at the impact. Your core is so drenched he's able to enter you with little resistance now. Emitting a rough, throaty groan, he fixates on how your creamy arousal coats his cock, disappearing in and out of your cunt.

“F-Fuck,” You hiss, your hand reaching back to firmly grip Jeongguk’s wrist for support, but he takes advantage of your extended arm and yanks you up until your back is pressed to his chest.

The new position gives him better access to your front and Jeongguk ghosts a hand around your waist without a second thought, smooths it down your stomach until he reaches your clit. Your body jolts the instant his fingers make contact with the swollen bud, legs quivering with the strength it's taking you to stay upright.

Your boyfriend notices your struggle and hooks his other arm around your waist, his fingertips holding you so tightly you won't be surprised if some bruises appear there tomorrow.

“Fuck, I've missed this.” He rasps, more to himself than you, whilst drilling against your g-spot. But the words affect you just the same as your pussy tightens in response, squeezing him into a death grip, and Jeongguk's hips stutter. “Jesus,” He groans, making a mental effort to stave off his own orgasm, trying to focus solely on you.

You really are going to be the death of him.

He breathes heavily through his nostrils before starting up again, slowly driving into you and his cock burrows so deep, you swear you can feel it in your uterus.

His fingers skim over your clit, tracing the nub ever so slightly because you're starting to flinch from his touch, starting to grow sensitive. And when your head falls back against his shoulder, a choked whine forcing its way out your throat, Jeongguk knows that you're close.

“You gonna come for me?” Jeongguk's lips brush against your temple, his hand deserting your pussy in sympathy to knead your breasts instead. You feel his thumb run over your nipple, static lightning steamrolling across your skin with each sweep.

“I-ah!” You can barely form a coherent sentence, the inklings of even one lucid thought slipping from your empty, fucked out mind as Jeongguk slams into you. He's setting a brutal pace, the noise of skin-against-skin undeniably obscene, but you can hardly find the will to care when the muscles in your abdomen begin to tense. They twist up like a clockwork toy, winding and winding, until Jeongguk hits a particular spot that makes your toes curl, and then you're coming undone for the second time tonight, knees buckling with the sheer force of your orgasm.

It hits you like a freight train, your body spasming. White dots of euphoria blur your vision, the pleasure so blinding, and Jeongguk's hold around your midsection is the only reason you don't collapse right there onto the couch.

“That's it, baby.” He reveres, hips never ceasing their movements even as your walls contract sporadically, determined to fuck you through it. An uncannily pornstar moan spills from your lips, mind and body having finally plunged into the silvery, stormy torrents of your climax, and the strangled sound causes something impossibly primal to rupture within Jeongguk. It thrashes at his chest like a wild caged animal, demanding release, and he recognizes the feeling all too well.

“You're mine, right? ” He finds himself grunting, voice husky with strain. The hand that was attending to your boobs instinctively ascends to your throat, squeezing slightly as he chases his own high, gives in to that grueling streak of possessiveness that only every rears its head when he has you like this—naked and vulnerable—and you groan at the familiar pressure.

You hum, walls clenching around him. “Only yours.” Your own hand reaches up, cuffing around his wrist for support as a tremor runs down your spine.

Jeongguk feels his balls tighten, the knowledge that he’s the sole witness to this side of you, so subservient and docile, sets him off the deep end.

Then you angle your head to the side, joining your lips with his. It's a messy, sloppy kiss, but the intimacy of it all causes Jeongguk's last bit of composure to crack.

He spills into you with a groan, the sound muffled by your mouth, as he rocks forward until every last drop of his seed is snug within your warmth.

The feeling of his cum bursting inside of you, length twitching, causes your pussy to flutter by reflex, milking Jeongguk of every ounce of cum, only suspending their contractions once he's thoroughly depleted.

By the end, you're both a heaving mess; chests rising and falling in unison as you come down, the electric current pulsing through your bodies fading into a comfortable hum.

Your skin is still buzzing, head befuddled, when Jeongguk presses a few lazy kisses across your shoulder—as if to ground you, to bring you back from the constellations he's painted behind your eyes.

“You were so good, baby.” He commends, smoothing the hair at the side of your profile and you can't help the soft, but dopey smile that breaks out onto your face then.

“I've been dreaming about that for forever.” You murmur, submitting to the assault of his lips. Your boyfriend chuckles in return, nuzzling your neck as he commits the smell of your skin, an alluring scent of sex and lavender, to his memory.

“Me too,” He hums, thumb gliding gently across the contour of your waist. Your sensitive pussy throbs at the light touch, rousing from the stimulation; which only reminds you of the unpleasant remnants of arousal coating your inner thighs.

As if reading your mind, Jeongguk whispers against your skin. “Let's get you cleaned up, okay?”

He eyes your figure carefully, waiting for any hint of consent before he leaves you here alone.

You manage to muster a nod and then feel his dick slip from your entrance a second later, withdrawing in a way that makes you cringe and leaves you feeling oddly empty.

“I’ll be right back.” He assures, his lips quickly, but comfortingly, brushing against your hairline. Thereafter, from your peripheral, you see Jeongguk detach himself from your side, pulling his pants back up as he disappears into the bathroom to do what he does best—take care of you.

In the meantime, you resist the temptation to slump back onto the sofa, feeling a hefty load of cum leaking down your thighs. Every muscle in your body feels relaxed, those sparks from earlier sizzling down into sleepy, smoky remnants that weigh you down. Mind a dazed mess, not sure of how much time has passed, you almost give in—the slumber you so desperately sought out at the beginning of the night finally settling into your bones—when Jeongguk walks back into the living room. He's changed into a pair of briefs and is carrying a wet cloth, as well as, a small tube of ointment.

Your body instantly perks up, a little rejuvenated by his presence.

“Hey,” Jeongguk murmurs once he's back in your close vicinity, fingers brushing against your cheeks as he peers down at you with a soft smile.

“Hey,” You tiredly grin back, pointing a finger at the items in his hand. “Those for me?”

Jeongguk hums, draping an arm around your waist to steady you. If you had the energy to freshen yourself up, you honestly would but currently, you can barely keep your eyes open. So instead you lean on your boyfriend—figuratively and literally—clutching onto his biceps as he brings the warm cloth to your nether regions. You hiss a little at the contact, still feeling delicate down there, but Jeongguk handles you with a gentle mindfulness that makes your heart swell. Makes you think back to a little over an hour ago, when you were alone in bed unable to fall asleep because he wasn't there.

And sometimes it worries you. How much you need him. How much something as simple and basic as sleep, needs the warmth of his touch to make its mark on you. How much you’ve grown to love him in the span of a few months, your life endlessly orbiting around him like the earth to the sun. How much the deepest crevices of your soul, where the vile fear of abandonment and instinctual desire to run, relinquish themselves to the light of Jeongguk’s unconditional love.

You watch him toss the used washcloth to the side before unscrewing the top of the ointment. Sigh; as his fingers, tender with purpose, apply dabs of vitamin K salve to your hips where the marks from his fingertips are starting to surface. “Shit, I'm so sorry baby.” He apologizes, the raspy, hushed tone of his voice communicating how guilt-ridden he feels. “I didn't mean to be this rough.”

And, you've never known a love like this. One that rustles through your hair like the wind on the drive down to your parents. One that meets you in the dead of winter between classes, wrapped up in coats and scarves, and coffee as the snow falls. One that kisses you goodnight, hands cupping your cheeks while the street lamps flicker outside.

One that dresses all your bruises.

It makes you want to run in the opposite direction every now and then, fleeing until you forget that you ever knew it could be this good, this safe.

But, staring at Jeongguk and the careful, intricate way he's massaging ointment onto all your black-and-blues, you bury these trepidations away, laying them to rest in the one place they belong—the past.

Because yes, you’ve never had this sort of love before—the seriousness, the commitment.

The emptied-out drawers for your clothes.

The spare toothbrush at his place.

The conversations of a future together—the clear line being crossed from fling to forever.

Even though it's a concept so scary and unfamiliar, and foreign to you—you never want to let it go.

You never want to let him go.

[stagkingswife]

A Spirit Doctor's Top 5 Tips Before Swearing an Oath

It's been a while since I actively solicited for clients, so some of you may not know that I work as a spirit doctor. My specialty is oaths and agreements, and the making, breaking, and negotiating thereof.

Basically I'm a spiritual contract and divorce lawyer. You made an oath to an entity and now you regret it and you want to get out of it, you call me. I'll get you out of the oath with minimal damage - You might still have to make an offering once a year on a particular holy day, maybe you have to arrange for a new follower or two to balance out the loss of your worship (or maybe I'll take this one for you, depending on the situation, I have also been known to arrange matches), you get the point. But I also consult on oaths before they're sworn, so that you don't need my help to break it down the line. A friend of mine was recently preparing to swear an oath to an entity in their life and asked for my tips for Oath constructions, here's my Top 5*:

1) Write out your oath in some way, preferably before you swear it, so you have a document that you can amend: Being oath bound to an entity is kind of like like being married to someone, the relationship changes over time, so the rules of the relationship needs to change with it. But these relationship rules can be a little stricter than others, and it can be to keep track of these rules in our heads all of the time - do you give offerings on Wednesdays or Sundays? Was it wine or whiskey? If you've sworn to multiple entities this can get even harder. So I recommend keeping a written version of your oath that you can add and remove clauses from as your relationship grows and changes. I also think it's also kind of nice to have a record to look back on. It charts the growth and changes of your relationship over time - I think that's sweet.

2) Include specific rules for amending your oath: We covered that the rules of our relationships can change above, but because we're dealing with spirits it can be helpful to lay down some rules about how to change the rules of the relationship. How do you propose an amendment to the oath? Can you do it at any time or only on certain important days? Can either of you propose amendments? Is there veto power? stuff like that. The answers to those sorts of questions will vary with each relationship, but I always feel like it's better to know the answers and not need them than it is to need them and not know.

3) Have a One Year Trial Clause - especially if it's your first oath, or if you haven't been in some sort of close relationship with the entity for several years before swearing your oath. I always feel like it's a good idea to write your oath in such a way that the first year is basically a trial period, with a re-dedication at the end of the first year to make the oath fully binding. Think of it like dating before you get married, or a 3 month trial period at a new job. It just give you a some time to adapt to the new situation, to any new taboos or expectations there might be, and then a comfortable "no hard feelings" out if you don't like it.

4) Include a "break glass in case of emergency" way out of your oath. The One Year Trial covers adjusting to being in the oath, but this is for later. In case you're ten years down the line and you realize for whatever reason that you don't want to be bound to this entity anymore, or you're life has totally changed and you're done with this. It will prevent you from needing to find and employ someone like me to break the oath for you. Some examples include: - You will always wear a piece of devotional jewelry and will not willingly take it off. Intentionally and willingly taking it off constitutes the end of the oath - You could make a spirit house or vessel. Intentionally and willingly dismantling or destroying it would constitute the end of the oath. - If you want to go hard you could get a tattoo. Getting it removed or covered up wold constitute the end of the oath.

5) Finally detail your roles, responsibility, and boundaries: This is the "contract" part of the oath and would make up the bulk of any written document you keep. Think of this like a job contract with the entity. Lay out exactly what you will do for them as part of your oath, what you will abstain from doing, etc. And then what you expect in return, are they helping you raise power, learn magic, etc. I recommend being clear, concise, and specific, but you can be mystical, or worshipful, as long as you know where the boundaries are and what the expectations are. You don't want to write a blank check and then be expected to cash it and not know how. Some suggestions for what you could include here: - Establish now how other entities effect your relationship: Is there a hierarchy/priority? Are there any taboos or limits? Can you make oaths to other entities? etc. - Establish clear tasks that the entity expects from you: Are you expected to make offerings on a specific schedule? Are expected to learn a specific magical skill (ex. I was expected to learn how to guide spirits from our world to the Otherworld and then across it as part of my oath to Brona.) Are there specific tasks you're supposed to do with said magical skills (distinguishing my work as A Psychopomp from my learning how to be a guide above.) - Establish what you're getting from the Entity: Are personally they teaching you the skill they want you to learn? Are they introducing you to a different entity that teach you said skill? Are they providing the means and knowledge to grow your reservoir of power? Are they providing a familiar? If your expected to do something, what do you get in return - Establish things the entity can't do: They can't interfere with your relationship with another entity. They can't interrupt your sleep, or damage your mental health. Any sphere of your life that you want to try and limit the entity's influence on - spell it out. This is never 100%, you feel the effects of this bond like this in all aspects of your life in some way, but you can try to minimize the effects by drawing boundaries. - Establish anything you won't do for the entity: Refuse to do blood magic or sacrifices lay that out. Refuse to fast, lay it out. Get as specific and detailed as you can, but also include a general "Right to refuse" phrasing as well. The specifics are to protect you from being asked. Note*: You guys might this this advice is all very cynical, and I wholeheartedly agree. I admit that I'm jaded. Asking me for advice before you take an oath is like asking a divorce lawyer for advice before you get married… buuuuuuuut I'm a divorce lawyer who's been happily married for 14 years. So I do think there's some method to my madness. I hope my advice help my buddy out, and I hope it helps you fine folks too. My inbox is always open if you have questions, and I'm happy to consult on oaths and oath break over at @stagkingswife-services. The doctor is always in.

[impish-baby]

A few glimpses into 'both arms cradle you now' reader's childhood in no particular order

"Why do birds suddenly appear evertime you are near.." The wet tears running down your cheeks are gently brushed away, whatever nightmare plaguing your sleep seems so far away now that your dad is here. "Just like me, they long to be close to you.." Damien hoists you into his arms, still humming that familiar lullaby as he carries you to the kitchen.

"Why do stars fall from the sky every time you walk by.." You're set on top of the counter, Damien ruffling your hair softly before walking over to the fridge to fetch a carton of milk. "Just like me.. they long to be.. close to you.." The warm glow of the stove makes the quiet night more cozy, the shadows along the walls retreating as well as any lingering fear.

You can feel you eyes start to droop, a small yawn leaving your lips making the man chuckle fondly. "One sec, ok? Daddy has some angel milk for you so you don't have anymore bad dreams, then we'll get you tucked back into bed."

-

"Do you want to hold him, sweetie?" Not really, but a nudge to your shoulder has you taking a reluctant step forward anyway. You're not sure how to feel about him, he's your dad's but not your mom's.

Mary scoots over a little so you can climb up on the hospital bed next to her, a tired but kind smile on her face. "Here, it's ok, you just need to make sure you're supporting his head.." She helps guide your arms into the right position, placing the tiny buddle into them, a pair of equally tiny disgruntled blue eyes soon staring up at you.

When you were first told that your stepmom was pregnant, you tried really really hard to just be happy for them. You promise. The sinking dread never went away though, no matter how much you berated yourself for feeling that way.

Babies are a blessing, but the announcement only cemented the fact that the world as you knew it was ending. Your dad isn't just your dad anymore. Even then, he hasn't acted like one to you in a while. Maybe you were just denying the inevitable.

"Ohh, I think he likes you.." Mary's head rests on your shoulder suddenly, distracting you from your sullen thoughts. "See? You're a natural with little ones!"

"He's glaring at me.."

She laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek as she sits up. "No, he's just getting used to the world, darling. He loves you, he knows he has the best older sibling he could ask for."

-

"What's even the point?" You're both supposed to be sleeping even though it isn't a school night, Aunt Lisa is strict when it comes to things like that. What she doesn't know won't hurt her though.

"Because they look cool," Avery shrugs, carful of the fact you're currently snuggled under one of his arms. "And you get bragging points for catching them." You still don't get it, they're the same thing just a different color. "You've watched me play for like an hour, and now you're bored?"

"You were actually doing stuff before.." You huff, "You've been going around in a circle for fifteen minutes."

You scoff at his comment, now filled with spite to actually beat the game. You've barely moved an inch before the battle music plays, a black and purple pumpkaboo greeting you. "Oh, um..

"I

Well, excuse me," Avery sniffs playfully, "You play since I'm not entertaining enough." The console is handed over to you, the older boy simply holding you closer. "I bet you lose the first match you try."

"Huh?" Avery sighs, quickly pouting when he looks back at the screen. "Seriously? Damm, you're lucky." He pokes your cheek, "You catch it for me and I'll buy you some fries tomorrow."

-

"You're so annoying!"

With how hard you hit the ground, you know you're going to bruise. You weren't even talking, you just wanted to hang out with them.

"Seriously, who even wanted you to come over? I sure didn't!" No matter what you do, Lizzie doesn't like you. Doesn't matter if you're as friendly as can be or give her some space, you're always doing something wrong. "You're wasting good air, you know?"

"M' sorry, didn't mean to bother you." You won't cry, you're too old for that. "Liz-"

"You didn't mean to? Yeah, right!" Lizzie scoffs, kicking dirt into your face. Dust immediately stings your eyes. "You're a pest! No wonder everyone calls you bug, you're clingy like a tick, a parasite."

Your feeble attempt to rub the dirt away isn't really helping, you can barely hold your eyes open enough to look up at her. Miles isn't going to do anything to help either, silently supporting his sister.

"No wonder your dad left you! And your mom, she must be insufferable if you're her kid-"

You don't know when you managed to get up on your feet or when you grabbed a handful of Lizzie's hair. On the bright side, it makes her shut up.

"Hey!"

Your dad emerges from the house, miles trailing behind him. Of course.

"What has gotten into you?" You've let the older girl go at this point, she wasn't even crying until he came outside.

"Ow, dad.." Lizzie hides behind Damien, flashing you a smirk. "I wasn't even doing anything and they decided to be mean.."

Any inking of doubt you had evaporates in an instant. You don't have a dad anymore, you haven't in years.

"God.." He crosses his arms, the stern look would have made you wince if you weren't already shaking. "Don't even try to give me any excuses, Miles told me what happened. You can wait out here for your mom to pick you up since you can't behave yourself. I thought you knew better."

-

"Can you at least try to eat half, please?"

Your plate sits almost entirely untouched, having just been picked at over the course of dinner. Your mom's worried frown won't leave her face. "You're still a growing kid, I don't like how many meals you've tried to skip."

"I'm not hungry." You really aren't, there's always a nauseous feeling in your gut these days. "I'll eat a snack later, don't worry, mom."

"Baby.." She pinches the bridge of her nose and you feel a pang of guilt for how stressed she must be. "Please? For mommy? Or at least talk to me about what's going on.. i- it hurts seeing you so sad all the time."

What are you supposed to say to that?

Against your will, there's tears starting to drip down your cheeks. You don't think you've ever seen the women move so fast, her chair clattering to the floor in her rush to go to your side. "Oh, my baby.."

"I- I'm sorry.." For what you don't know, maybe the fact that she's stuck with you. "I- I'm so sorry, mom-"

"Oh, hush.." You're too big for her to carry, you both know, but she still scoops you into her arms. "There's nothing in the world you need to apologize to me for."

You sniffle, tucking your head under her chin. "I- I don't want to see dad anymore.. or.. or hear about him or-"

"Shhh.." She runs a hand through your hair in an attempt to soothe you, "you don't have to, alright? We'll figure it out. If that's what you want, you won't ever have to see him again."

(a/n: some ramblings while I start writing the second part to the series..reader will continue to go through it)

[chazedazed]

So sudden ♫ Lara Raj x fem!reader

Warning ➟ nsfw, foul words, not proofread

Disclaimer ➟ Every word written here is but a work of fiction. Nothing is a real representation of who these people are in real life.

Synopsis ➟ You couldn't bare liking Lara anymore, so you chose to ignore her. The Indian, who had no idea why you had suddenly become so cold all of a sudden decided to confront you.

WC ➟ 1.53k

A/N ➟ idk js some random cute smut i decided to write as my first work lol

creds to @adornedwithlight for the banner!!

You were so fucked. You've been in a talking stage with someone— a common friend. She was so nice, so polite, so perfect. But you couldn't help it. For some reason, every time you had gone on a date with her, all you could remember was Lara.

Your bandmate, someone who treated you like you were her sister for fucks sake. But could anyone blame you?

The lasting eye contact, the lingering touches, felt like electricity to you. Every time Christine had made you feel calm, safe, and in control— Lara had made you feel erratic, unsafe in the best way possible, out of control— alive.

You hated feeling this way. This was wrong. You felt so guilty— poor Christine didn't deserve any of this. And on a particular Sunday— the guilt had caught up to you.

''Fuck yeah— movie night.'' Manon sighed as she sat down on the couch, scooting in between Daniela and Sophia. You were all sitting in order, from left to right.

Sophia, Manon, Daniela, Yoonchae, Megan, and finally, Lara and you, on the side.

You cursed. Being this close to Lara meant more trouble for you. You hoped she'd focus on the movie and ignore you, but luck was not on your side.

An hour into the movie, Lara had started to drift, the fatigue catching up to her. The Indian had decided to sleep on your shoulder, and very carefully lowered her head onto it. Your breath hitched. You hadn't expected Lara to all of a sudden make physical contact with you.

Thankfully, she hadn't noticed you panicking over something so small. The girl slept peacefully on your shoulder, and it felt so right. So disgustingly right.

The smile on your face turned into a pained frown. Good God, you were thinking about your bandmate in that way. What would Missy think? What would the rest of your members think? What would she think?

You looked away, trying to control your heartbeat. But much to your dismay, it didn't work. Lara just had this effect on you— this intoxicating effect you couldn't quite figure out.

You didn't want this anymore... the feelings, the guilt— you didn't want to want her anymore. So you had come to a conclusion.

Lara put her arm around your neck, and smiled.

''Good morning sleeping beauty. Care to explain why I can't find my hoodie?'' You cursed. Of course you had borrowed it.

''Oh, it's in the wash right now. I lumped it in with mine. I'll give it back to you later, yeah?'' You coldly responded, politely and gently removing her arm that was on you. Lara was surprised at the coldness, but shortly brushed it off as you waking up on the wrong side of the bed.

Okay, either you had woken up on the wrong side of the bed for the past two weeks, or Lara had done something.

You had been ignoring or brushing the girl off for the past two weeks, to the point your other members had noticed. Sophia wanted to confront you, saying it was unhealthy and downright shitty. But Lara told her not to, wanting to confront you herself.

It was however, hard to get you in the same room as her alone. It was like trying to capture a rat in a shabby trap. She had to actually come up with a good plan. And come up with a good plan she did.

Everyone was out right now as far as you were concerned. You cut ties with Christine a week ago, telling her she was amazing, but it just wasn't working out. The blonde constantly asked why, but all you could give her was bullshit about ''work'' and how you ''don't know'' whether you could handle it or not.

You had your headphones on. You were in a green tank top, supported with black basketball pants. It was your go to fit, after all. You decided an hour ago that chilling in the house would be a great refresher, but it was all about to be ruined.

You heard three knocks on your door. You paused your music, and thought about who it could be. It couldn't have been Manon or Daniela— the two would never knock on your room, especially because it was theirs too. Megan wouldn't really care either. So it was either Yoonchae or Sophia, coming home earlier than you had thought.

''Come in! Doors open.'' The door opens, and there, you were met with none other than the person you've been trying to avoid for the past few weeks.

''Fuck.''

You froze, not knowing what to do. Lara closed the door, and locked it for good measure, making sure you wouldn't run from her or something.

The girl took in a deep breath, and spoke.

''...Hi'' She moved closer to your bed, and signal towards the spot in front of you, as if asking ''may i?''. You hesitantly nodded your head, and the Indian sat down.

''Okay... so, what exactly did I do? And don't play dumb— It's painfully obvious.'' You bit your lip, shit, maybe you should have gone out with Megan or Daniela.

After receiving no answer seconds after asking a question, Lara grew desperate. Desperate to know why one of her closest friends had suddenly started treating her so coldly.

''Please, Y/n. What did I do? You've been so cold to me— I don't know anymore.'' She pried your hands away from your phone, and held them.

You sighed. There was no getting out of this. It was now or never.

''I... I like you.''

''What?'' Lara blinked, and looked at you in confusion, asking herself whether or not she had just heard what you said right.

''I like you, Lara Rajagopalan. A lot.''

You stared into each others eyes, as Lara inched closer to you. She held your jaw, and waited for a second— for any sign of discomfort.

You hadn't given any.

She crashed her lips onto yours, tasting like sweet cherry. It felt as if you were electrocuted. You've kissed girls before, but it had never felt this way. Felt this good.

Instead of a nice and soft first kiss with Lara, this one was rough. A hungry kiss, one that you were sure bruised your lip.

She pressed on your chip with her thumb, allowing entrance for her tongue, but you pulled away. Short of breath.

Breathing heavily, you asked her, looking her dead in the eye, both your gazes filled with lust.

''Do you... do you like me back?'' Lara looked at you, wondering if it was a genuine question or a teasing one. After noticing that it was, the latter giggled.

''Baby is that even a question?'' Lara said as she crashed her lips onto yours once more, her tongue finding its way into your mouth faster than last time.

Lara moved her hands over your thigh, slowly parting both your legs. You let out a soft moan, surprising Lara and yourself. You felt embarrassed, and it was neatly displayed on your face. Lara pulled away,

''Don't be shy. No one's home baby.. moan all you want.'' Lara pushed you onto the bed, and you were now lying down, with the Indian above you.

The girl traced her hand up your legs all the way to your thigh and stopped.

''Tell me you want this.'' You nodded,

''I want you.''

The girl wasted no time in taking your pants and underwear off. The girl reveled at the sight of you, all disheveled and ready for her. She couldn't help but tease, finding this all a little too cute.

You whine at her teasing,

''Lara, please...'' Lara let out a soft giggle,

''Please what?'' Normally, you'd be too embarrassed to even think about entertaining her, but right now?

Right now you were too desperate to process your own behavior.

''Please.. I want you in me. So badly.''

Lara slips a finger into you, and you let out a sharp and short moan, not expecting her to enter you so fast after all the slow teasing just seconds prior.

The girl slips another inside wasting no time, and you couldn't stop the elicit moan from coming out.

''Mhfm..!'' Lara slowed down her pace a bit, as you adjusted to her fingers. After a couple seconds and a soft nod from you, the girl started moving her fingers at a steady but moderate pace.

It felt so good, like eternal bliss.

Lara placed soft wet kisses on your collar, as she stuck her fingers in and out of you. You felt like it was all so much— too much.

''Ah...ah! I'm going to—'' Lara hums, and in no time, you let it all out. Lara held you close, helping you ride out your high.

As the two of you heave heavy breaths, you both find each other's eyes.

You smile, and Lara nuzzles herself into your neck. Neither of you spoke, not wanting to break the peaceful silence. Lara placed the blanket over both of you, and cuddled you.

Neither you nor Lara know what's gonna happen now, but that's a problem for later. For now, both of you were going to sleep together and enjoy it.

[another-goblin]

I've seen a lot of interesting opinions about Dr. Ratio. Some of them I disagree with. So I decided to compile a little list of why I disagree with them. The first part will be about things that seem factually incorrect, and the second part is about things that are rather a matter of interpretation and context.

As always, I might be wrong, so feel free to correct me.

1. Things that seem factually incorrect. 

"Ratio is an egoist and does everything for attention and recognition" - I don't remember him ever saying or doing anything that would indicate that. He saved these researchers secretly and made our TB take all the credit. He later even calls himself a "supporting character". He gets angry if we ask him for an autograph.

"He doesn't care about people" - yes, if you skipped his passionate speech to Screwllum about how much he cares about people. But also, everything he does in the game is helping people (saving these researchers on Herta station, offering us his help later in the express dialogues and messages - offering us to enroll in university, participate in devates, turn the express into a weapon, later helping Aventurine with his plan, helping him to find information, and so on).

"He hasn't achieved anything in science" - the list of his scientific achievements is easily available, I wouldn't say it's nothing. But I'll also leave this here:

Even his dedicated hater disagrees with this.

"Ratio's note did nothing to convince Aventurine to stay alive, it was all Acheron" - from how I see it, he was fully determined to end his life up until he read that note. Otherwise, why would they introduce the note at all? Why did Acheron feel the need to remind him of it?

"He never wanted to draw the gaze of Nous" and "He still wants it" - we can deduce that it isn't true from different parts of the game (he actually wanted it in the past but doesn't anymore), but that is a direct confirmation:

(I trust Screwllum's opinion.)

"Everybody hates him in-universe" - this is interesting because I even heard this from his fans. And it might sort of feel intuitive, but I don't remember any evidence of that. He literally has an in-universe fan club. People who knew him closely talk about him warmly in his character stories. The only person I remember ever expressing any negativity towards him was some shcolar in the Simulatred Universe, but I don't think it counts. I'll talk more about his students in particular later, but short version: I don't think they hate him either.

"I hate it when he tells me 'Zero points, get out' and throws chalk at me, that's mean" - that's so weirdly specific, but I've seen it a dozen times already. And, like, why??? He tells it to his enemies, not to us. I mean, nobody's angry at Serval for electrocuting her fans with her guitar just because that's what she does in her fighting animation.

Speaking of combat voice lines, if we wait too long, most characters get irritated and try to hurry us up. Meanwhile Ratio:

'That's okay, take your time, it's a turn-based game after all.'

"He's physically abusive to his students, he throws chalk at them" - similar to the previous point. I don't remember any mention of him doing that. The only case of him using physical force against a (potential) student was when, as a TA, he threw away a rich asshole who tried to buy a degree. And yes, in the boring real world, I wouldn't approve of that, but in the world of the game - well done, good ridance!

"He doesn't tolerate people disagreeing with him, he thinks he's always right"

"He's responsible for the crisis at Herta Station" - how though? I saw this opinion several times, and I'm really curious what people mean by that. Did he himself endanger these researchers by teleporting them who knows where, then faked the video from Duke Inferno, and so on? But why stop here while we're at it , maybe he also impersonated Ruan Mei, left the bug on the station, abandoned the poor cat-creatrures and drugged us with a cake?…

"He's worse than Dottore from Genshin" - technically it's a matter of opinion, but I think nobody will mind if I put it in the 'just wrong' category. But yeah, that's an opinion I've heard. I've got no idea what they meant, but it made me think, how many people did he help and save, both in the game and in his past? Probably more than most of the characters we've met so far. And he doesn't seem to discriminate, it's not 'I'll save my people'. He cured that disease for everybody's benefit, he saved Herta's researchers, he helped TB unravel the events on the station and then proceeded to pester them offering his help, he cosideres some troubled IPC executive 'his responsibility' and so on.

"He actually betrayed Aventurine" - no comments. Come on, play the game, read the dialogues.

1.5. A little intermission.

The thing that's hard to deny is that he definitely doesn't mince his words. Whether you see it as him being a rude asshole, being justifiably angry, brutally honest, sarcastic, or snarky, or showing tough love, or just being incapable of expressing himself in an adequate and socially acceptable way, it's up to you. I can understand how some people might be uncomfortable with that. I personally find it an interesting character trait. (I mean, he isn't even capable of expressing positive feelings in a normal way, what did you expect of him?):

There is also a very interesting (but rather confusing) thing that can be missed if you are unwilling to see further than the initial shallow impression, but it is impossible to unsee once you've noticed it. He sees himself as a teacher in two very different ways. It can be missed at first because both ways are described in very similar words. These ways are: 

a teacher in a traditional sense (let's call it 'academic teacher'); 

and as something akin to a 'life coach', just helping people and making them realize that they shloud (and can) rely on themselves.

The thing is, we never see him in his 'academic teacher' role. As far as we know, he only acts this way with his university students. We never see him teaching anybody any scientific stuff, or berating people for their lack of knowledge and education. Yet he says that he considers everybody his students. But what does he mean if it's not about knowledge? He means it in the second 'life coach' meaning. Therefore, he sees literally everybody as worthy of his help and support.

BTW, I feel like his main problem as a character is that people tend to settle on the first impression they get of him and are unwilling to see further than that. Meanwhile, the game continues to explore his personality, revealing that most things about him are actually the opposite of what they might seem at first. That's why so many people think that he calls everybody idiots for being less smart than him, that he's egoistic and unfeeling, that he values knowledge above all, and so on. So if you actually have interest in him as a character, I'd encourage you to look at him more closely.

2. Now to the things that are more open to interpretation.

"He uses mean words" -to be honest, I'm not a big fan of writers making him use these words (idiots, fools, stupidity, and so on) because, first, they are usually used as just empty insults. (I'm curious whether he uses similar words in Chinese or something more nuanced). So I can understand how it can put some people off. And the second problem is that it feels like he means different things every time he uses these words. It's quite confusing. Here is a post where people helped me find different cases of him using these words; you can check it out yourself.

Let's look closer at some of these cases: 

-'While geniuses wander among the stars, the ordinary can't even trace their footsteps. Those less gifted have no choice but to walk alone, enduring a lifetime of tumbles and triumphs. But even a life marked by failure is a life worth living — it is only in moments of solitude and despair, when help is absent, that fools grasp how to pick themselves up' He seems to contrast geniuses with fools here, so fools are everybody who's not a genius. So if you are inclined to see him this way, if you squint, you can technically see it as him insulting people based on their intellectual abilities, right?… Except, he includes himself among these fools, so no:

So it's basically 'all who are not geniuses are fools, including me'. Which is an interesting way to put it, but it definitely doesn't mean ''you are all fools for not being as smart as me''.

But he mostly uses these words when he talks about his fellow scholars:

-'First, with the headpiece on, isolated from my five senses, I can think without interference. And second, I don't have to set eyes on stupid people' - we only see him wearing the plaster head on Herta's Station, a place full of the most brilliant minds in the universe. We never see him using it again with normal people, so the word 'stupid' here can't be about people's intelligence.

There is also an interesting little detail:

He admires her intelligence (although in a sarcastic manner) in his 'about Herta' voiceline. He doesn't wear his 'anti-stupid' mask when he's with TB or Aventurine, but he always wears it with Herta. Which is very telling, and indicates again what he means by 'stupid'.

Some other examples:

-'(…)the fools from the Guild with ambitions beyond stars should be banished from my sight and thereby mind' -'Don't invert priorities like these dolts from the guild' -'I cannot stand fools, idiots, or imbeciles. Seeing them fills me with dread. Regrettably, this space station is just like the Intelligentsia Guild — devoid of geniuses and filled with mediocrity' -'Ah, the Technology Department. Charming little place, isn't it? Madam Yabuli does possess some semblance of competence, but her subordinates? Oh, they're a riot — brimming with enthusiasm yet utterly devoid of intellect. It's as if evolution halted prematurely for them'

He is absolutely RUTHLESS when he talks about scientists, because he expects a lot from them.

So no, I don't think he'd call you an idiot for not being an A student, or having learning difficulties, or just lacking an interest in learning. He absolutely would though if you were a brilliant scientist, priveledged with great education, resources, and a personal lab, squandering your talents and funds on a useless vanity project, or hoarding potentially life-saving knowledge for yourself, to use as a commodity.

"But he does call people idiots!" - I've noticed that most of the time he uses these 'insults' he talks about some groups of people.

I could only think of 3 times when he called an individual an idiot. He calls Aventurine an idiot because he 'lost' the stones (but it doesn't count because he plays a role and pretends that he hates Aven). A scholar in an event in SU complains of Ratio calling him an idiot (I'm not sure it actually happened, it's just a story in SU).

But there is one case of him calling somebody an idiot and actually meaning it. And who is this poor victim of his terrible verbal abuse? It's himself. Whoops. (speaking of how he's supposedly full of himself and thinks that he's better than the others.)

"He would call me an idiot because of my supposed lack of knowledge/education/intelligence" - I showed in the previous point why I think he wouldn't (he never seems to use these words to mean that).

But also consider this. During his interactions with Aventurine on Penacony Ratio mostly plays a role for Sunday, pretending that he despises Aventurine. That's why we can't draw any conclusions about his personality from most of their dialogues. But the moments when he breaks the role are extremely telling.

Let's look at one of them from the beginning. They argue; Ratio calls Aventurine an idiot for 'ruining their plan'. And then Aventurine mentions that he didn't go to school and lacks formal education. If there ever was a good time to call someone an idiot for being uneducated, that's it! That's what Sunday expects to hear (because his plan hinges on Ratio valuing knowledge above all else).

And what does he do? He fucking apologizes! Even for the role and for the sake of their plan, he can't bring himself to insult someone for being uneducated.

"He's mean to TB" - it's a matter of interpretation, but his behavior with us didn't strike me as mean or demeaning. He was just being sarcastic and snarky as always (and I understand that it's not everybody's cup of tea).

The situation was time-sensitive and precarious. We don't know how much control he had over it. He tried to make us realize what's going on as fast as possible, pretending that he himself is clueless. Because his goal was to show the recearchers that despite the presence of 2-3 geniuses on board, none of them were able to save them. If he just publicly saved everybody, it would be just another genius appearing out of nowhere and saving the day, which would go against his goals and his philosophy.

And later, our TB seems to regard him with a mix of respect and amusement (calling him Professor, asking for an autograph), no resentment here. So TB didn't think he was mean either.

"He values knowledge above all, he's obsessed with teaching people stuff, and he doesn't understand/accept that other people might have other priorities" - I'd argue that literally the opposite is true. He doesn't impose his knowledge on anybody against their will, and we never see him berate anybody for their lack of knowledge or education.

Sunday isn't the first person to misunderstand him that badly, and he's not having it. Even though at this point in the story, his and Aventurine's plan hinges on Sunday's misunderstanding. But I think his position is very clear: pursuit of knowledge above all is a matter of petty pride.

He says it when we ask him why he doesn't nag us about getting our act together, before a party. So basically "if learning makes you feel bad (doesn't enhance your living) then you are doing it wrong, go and have fun".

This probably isn't considered canon, but it illustrates how he sees knowledge. Here is an analogy. If I had an apple orchard, and I thought my apples were awesome and they'd make a great gift, and you should feel free to ask me if you want some. It doesn't mean that I shove my apples into people's mouths against their will and then call them idiots and spit on them when they don't like it.

"He's a bad person because he didn't help us fight the big bug" - he knew who we are. It's not in his habit to directly involve himself where he's not needed, it would go against his philosophy ('you should count on yourself; you can do it'). It's not like he left us to die; he must have known how capable our TB is. BTW, he was still looking after us, seemingly ready to come to our help:

Besides, currently nothing indicates that (outside of the turn-based gameplay) he's anything more than a normal human being. He would be a hindrance in a fight. 

"He's a bad teacher" - (first, here is an interesting post about this from the point of view of an actual teacher)

So yeah, it's about the 3% passing rate. Yes, it can mean that only 3% of his students end up learning something. It's possible that he's such a bumbling idiot of a teacher that he doesn't even understand how bad he is. It's possible that he's somehow still allowed to teach despite being THAT bad.

But I think it's much more possible (and consistent with his philosophy) that he just has very high standards. A 3% rate doesn't mean that only 3% know anything. Students might benefit enormously from his classes, even without passing. They still have all their valuable skills and knowledge.

But also, let's not forget that he doesn't teach children. He teaches at the university. And I don't think it's some 101 basics; it's likely something related to his research and discoveries, some extremely advanced cutting-edge stuff. So his students are already extremely well educated adults, who want to achieve more. He would probably see lowering his standards as a betrayal of his students.

"His students hate him" - I didn't get that impression. On the contrary, they seem quite interested in him (some times in really creepy ways):

The only indication that they might have something against him is this:

It's either a literal roll-call of actual adults who shed literal tears during his classes, or it's just students being their normal cheeky selves, being overdramatic about a strict teacher. 

An example that came to mind: I can whine about how ruthless my gym trainer is and how I couldn't walk for a week after the last leg day. And his other clients would agree. But everybody understands that it's an expression of approval, not contempt. And maybe a bit of a humble brag.

Besides, if we decide to take that post at face value, then we'll have to take this literally too, meaning that his students consider him an actual God. And I don't think it's true:

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

There are still a lot of hot takes I disagree with that I haven't mentioned, but I'm too tired. This took WAY too long. Other cases are mostly quote-mining and deliberatly taking what he says out of context, which isn't very interesting to argue against (just read the full dialogue and consider the context). And also different variations on 'he's an asshole, he hates people, he thinks he's better than others, he'd call you an idiot for this or that, he's elitist, he only values knowledge and intelligence' and so on, but I think I addressed it sufficiently.

So yeah, that was my little character research. This wasn't written for his haters (I dislike some characters myself, and I wouldn't probably read 3K words about how I should change my mind). It was rather for the people who kind of like him, but who feel sad thinking how he'd probably call them idiots or something. I hope I was able to help you see him in a different way. He wouldn't call you an idiot, he'd support you.

[celestie0]

hi my friends! hope you're all doing well. just wanted to come on here and share a little updates w you guys (if you're still here lol)

i guess it's been like a month n a half since i formally went on hiatus, and it's been nice! i got kinda sick for a little bit lmfaooo which was tough to manage w school, but i'm better now

although i took time away from my blog, i still delved in writing here n there. i haven't written anything for kickoff since tbh i'm in such a slump w it. but i still have big plans for stuff that happens after ch13, so hopefully i can just push through this next chapter and get to a better place. thanks so much to anyone that is still interested in the story, it means a lot to me. i know i'm so slow w updates and the story has been going on for almost a year now, but the continued support is so sweet! even though i didn't work on writing it these past one n a half months, i still really love it and plan to finish it.

i'm not sure if many people remember that i had this sort of "apocalypse" gojo x reader au about an asteroid being set to hit the earth in three days, and reader n gojo are ex lovers n the impending end of the world makes them break no-contact...yeah i finished writing the first chapter for it and i really love it so far! it's like set in new york which is really fun haha i love stories where new york is kind of its own "character" if that makes sense...it will definitely be a limited series w only 4 chapters or so, but i kinda wanna finish all 4 chapters before i start posting it bc i don't want it to be a drawn out series in terms of posting since i think it'd be best enjoyed in frequent succession if that makes sense

as for ihm, i think i wrote the most for ihm during my hiatus. i finished three chapters for it, but they are shorter chapters (around 3-4k words). i kinda realized one of my biggest reasons for burnout w my fics were the reaaaaallly long chapters...like didn't i have a 22k chapter for kickoff or sumn lol. idk i can't remember. but anyways, yeah the mindset behind the longer chapters was bc i liked each chapter to kinda have its own conflict, build up, tension then resolution in a sense. but it was exhausting to write that way tbh lol. so i think moving forward, for ihm, i will have shorter chapters. i just don't wanna think to much about things anymore, and write from my heart, bc i have a lot of things planned for ihm, and among the criticism i've received for my writing choices vs my own vision for the story, i've realized during my hiatus that the only way i can finish ihm, or any of my storeis for that matter, is if i just.........stop giving a fuck about it. lol idk if that sounds strange to say, but like, i don't want to over-edit anything. i don't want to think too much about redundancy. i don't want to flower things up or cut stuff out. i'm at the point where imma just write a first draft, check for grammarly errors, and then post it. i guess the reason i'm sharing this is because idk if this means that people may enjoy my writing less since i will admittedly be spending much less time on it than i did before, but tbh i realized i find the most joy while i'm writing, and not while i'm editing. so i want to spend as little time on the latter as possible, and if that changes the quality of my work, then so be it.

anyways, hmm as for hiatus. i guess i'm off hiatus now? i really enjoyed being off of tumblr tbh this app has a lot of questionable content at times (esp in jjk community) and it also did wonders for my studying bc i wasn't spending time doomscrolling or shit posting anymore lmfaooo. but as for writing in particular, i think i will start to post ihm again exclusively. i can't say anything about kickoff or my other projects, but i feel comfortable to start posting ihm again.

sorry, i know that i have kept my replies and ask box off for a long time. but i will open them again once i start posting chapters because i really miss interacting with you guys.

anywho, these are my updates lol i'm like not sure how many of my readers are still here or which ones have moved on but that's ok, i'm grateful to anyone n everyone. hope to see you all soon again!

[bluesey-182]

okay bear with me while i try to organize all of these thoughts.

even in arcadia is such an interesting album to me because it seems to simultaneously be the most AND the least lore-heavy album compared to all their other work. i've always been of the mind that very few, if any, of their songs are actually about sleep. vessel sings about his own personal struggles, a lot of those having to do with what was an obviously very toxic and potentially abusive past relationship, but i've never really thought he was singing about sleep for a good 99% of their discography. the songs themselves are the offerings. "here's all of my pain. i offer if to you" (in penance??? 👀). however, at the same time, the kind of metaphors and language he uses puts all of that pain behind a certain kind of... barrier, i suppose? that makes it seem like "maybe it could all just be a story". and then he comes into this album with songs like past self, caramel, provider, damocles, and gethsemane where it feels like he's being even more brutally honest and vulnerable than he's ever been before (which is saying something because dear god does vessel spill his guts and bare his heart through the project). he's talking directly to the audience in a way that's unfamiliar and new and gut-wrenching on a whole new level. it's like he's testing the waters of stepping out from behind the smoke screen he's been singing through in the past.

and yet. you get songs like look to windward, emergence, dangerous (this one to a slightly less degree than the others) even in arcadia, and infinite baths. he's saying things that almost don't seem like they'd be said to or about an actual person. they have these incredibly fantasy-battle-esque sounds and lyrics to them. and there are a million and one theories about what sleep is, but this album in particular has me feeling like sleep is a personification of vessel's demons and in this album he's fighting them like he hasn't ever before. he's not bowing down, he's actively out for blood. that's who/what he's talking to this time, as opposed to the person(s) he's usually addressing in his songs.

so that brings me to the house divide. "the house must endure" / "the cycle must end". house veridian and feathered host. and then you get the line "you know i live by the feather and die by the sword". like obviously this is the house divide, but the more i think about that line (especially with feathered host potentially being a nod to feathered quills and that suggesting the houses are actually the pen vs the sword) the more i keep thinking that like... this album is the inner battle between the poet who loves music and chose this project as the outlet vs the man behind the mask dying at the sword of that project. realizing he's gotten himself into this corner of constantly replaying his darkest moments ("i play discordant days on repeat") so he can make this music ("until they look like harmony") and realizing it's hurting him more than it's serving as catharsis anymore. and it all comes together in an album where he's both allowing himself to be what is potentially the most vulnerable he's ever been--ditching some of the metaphors to say things more point blank, addressing the audience directly, getting to be goofy and vulnerable in a lighter way through "provider"--while also giving us songs that are direct conflicts with this deity he's made himself vessel to and also building on that story in a way that has previously been incredibly vague and sparse in terms of actual canon.

it's an incredible dichotomy and i think this separation of the houses was a really clever way to do it. but it also makes me think that the album isn't as cut down the middle in the divide as i think a lot of us initially thought. it's also interesting to catch the lyrics in this album that reference each other across the aisle. (the one coming to mind rn is "war of attrition" being in both look to windward and caramel when they both have different themes to them).

all this to say, vessel is a genius and continues to achieve incredible and mind-boggling things in his music, and this album has really (in my opinion) been a gift.

[animentality]

I know x reader fans have always existed, and I don't generally mind them.

however I feel like the way they've overtaken fandom analysis/ shipping culture is an indication of the general decline of fandom communities.

they are normies, guys. I'm sorry.

it's not a slur, it's just a fact.

normies infiltrated fandom spaces because of covid.

they come in and just want to thirst after a particular character... and that's like. fine. of course it's fine it's always happened.

but they don't seem to actually care about the character being in character. nor does it really require any analysis of that character's motivations or story, or their relationship with others.

I know not everything HAS to relate to canon. like duh, we are here to make our own canon.

but come the fuck on. I go into a tag and it has a character tagged being some dommy daddy when that character is nothing like that in canon... and there's this line between making a character act a certain way bc that's your fetish, and completely ignoring who that character is entirely to the point where you could just replace their name with anyone else in any other show, and it wouldn't make a difference?

like that's... normie shit. it's people who do not think deeply or passionately about that media, it's just them having this surface level grasp of the physical attractiveness of the character.

and again. I'm not saying these people are stupid or whatever, just that the overabundance of this watered down ass content is an indicator of how much fandom has changed.

fans are not the socially awkward introverted queer voyeurs anymore, who enjoy fantasies and daydreaming about being someone else because of this disconnect with the self, or this fear of others that leads you to seek human connection in fiction.

they're the people who do just fine with other people ... and I'm not gatekeeping fandom from people who aren't socially awkward or anything.

but they come here, and they do shit like say you can't like this ship bc it's morally wrong .. you're not allowed to thirst after an 18 year old that makes you a pedophile... I'm 15 and I'm allowed to lust for Gojo but you a 25 year old woman, aren't allowed to write itafushi fanfiction.

go back to taxes and your job!!!

like that drives me fucking insane. these people want to insist they're not normies but they then go around insisting that being over 20 means you need to Work and Be a Normal Adult... bitch.

adults make fandoms. not you fucking children. you don't know how to build communities, you barely know how to make friends.

attacking people who like the same thing you do? is that what you think community building is?

oh this poor generation. anyway.

they come here and are disgusted by weird fetishes and obsessions. and by people sharing sexual headcanons or ideas about sexuality that make them uncomfortable because they've never ever been counter culture, they've never felt the need to go against the status quo.

they're cis straight girls/women mostly, whose mothers basically fuel the ya spicy romance booktok industry.

they're just younger and think it's trendier to be "in a fandom" than a fucking book club.

they're modern day bodice ripper fans... which again

would be so fucking fine, if they weren't doing the youth version of karening the fuck out.

and flooding the fandom with both hyper criticism of how you conduct your business AND an aggressive market for just imagining yourself with a character.

like fandom was originally just hyper passionate freaks.

they discussed movies and TV shows like life and death. they were fucking nuts but in the way where they needed to seek one another out, to share in this joyous sensation of being a freak obsessed with something beyond the point of reason.

now?

now it's like ... oh.

Sally from Bio thinks your love of Gaara is super creepy when you're 19. like what, are you a pedophile? why are you imagining him getting married to Naruto? are you a fucking pedophile who gets off to teens making out? they need to check your hard drive!!

like ok Sally.

ok.

I just think x reader is such a strong indicator of what kind of fan you are.

and if a fandom is mostly x reader... then it can't be that popular. it can't be a proper community.

how can it be?

it's as watered down and generic and bland as a marvel movie. it's stripped down of anything unique. it is pruned of controversy and humanity.

you are literally stripping yourself down into a non character.

you're not truly projecting yourself into a character, because the you that you read about is nothing. a placeholder. you are a passive observing robot who exists only in the form of a faceless and personality less entity.

and I don't get it.

what's the point then?

isn't fiction about realizing something about yourself or others

if your only manner of engaging is stripping yourself of personality... is it engagement at all?

or is it just more mindless consumption?

just watch law and order, man.

watch the good doctor or some shit on lifetime.

there's shows with passionate fanbases who theory craft and endlessly obsess with relationships and world building, and then there's shows with x reader only content and you know exactly why now.

[nohoperadio]

In the early days, or really the first couple years, of my current job, I was kind of in awe of the fact that I was actively pleased to be there--zero clock-watching instincts, the days passed quickly, the work engaged my attention and felt worth doing even when it was stressful, I didn't even really look forward to my days off. I didn't have any sense that I was being forced to burn hours from my "real life" as a necessary evil to make a living. Work was a part of my real life and I was happy with that, I was even happy with it being a large part of my real life, I was happy with it being the largest part. (For those of you who aren't caught up on my lore, I'm describing a high street retail job that pays very slightly more than minimum wage.) I was in awe because nothing in my personal experience up to that point had made this kind of emotional relationship to a day job feel plausible or even really thinkable. It gave me a feeling that I imagine to be the feeling of cheating death. Everyone else is forced to give up those dozens of hours a week, it's a hole in their life; when I give those same hours they are simply given right back to me. I'd found some strange loophole where I can pay the full price while somehow losing nothing.

It doesn't feel like that anymore. It's still the best job I've had (not an impressive statement in context but a true one), it's still relatively enjoyable and pleasant and I'm still grateful to have it, but it now has much more the character of an obstacle that stands in the way of what I actually want to do with my time, the loophole has been closed, working is something separate from living again, everything is back to how it should be. I could list things that have changed for the worse in my workplace over the years that go a long way to explaining why my feelings changed, though I won't do that because it would be boring.

There's another thing though, which I should probably think of as the most obvious contributing factor although I never really do, and I started writing this post to try to lodge it in my mind a little better. Which is that for the first year and a half of this job I was coming home to a relationship that was really really bad. We spent our entire home lives trying to ignore the fact that we didn't like each other and couldn't ever possibly fail to make each other miserable and every couple weeks breaking out into quite pathetic melodramatic arguments wherein we'd pretend that there might be anything worth doing about this situation besides the obvious. Then that relationship ended and now here we are. It's not actually remotely surprising that the half of my life that involved doing structured achievable tasks in the company of people who were mostly pleasant and kind felt solid and fulfilling when the other half was suffused with anxiety and conflict and bitterness and frankly a profound and bleak and horrifying boredom. No particular explanation is needed for why I didn't spend my work days counting down the hours until I get to go home, and no particular explanation is needed for why I kind of do do that now. I genuinely thought at the time that I'd lucked into some magical thing where the work itself was innately life-giving, when any idiot could have looked at the situation and told me...

Anyway, the practical takeaway from all this is: if you wish you had a more fulfilling job but don't know how to get one, consider simply making the rest of your life horrible.

[heartavenue]

༉‧₊˚. A Pinkalicious Guide: How To Become A Master Shifter

Disclaimer: I know there are some people on here that do not like the law of assumption (no, I am not being shady it has just come to my attention) so if you do NOT like mentions of the law this post is not for you.

First of all...why was this the most voted? Ya'll have to start trusting yourselves more goodness me! My answer may disappoint but it all comes back down to your assumptions.

Let me tell y'all a little story mm? So we're back in 2021 and young Love is consuming hours upon hours of shifting content. She's listening to people tell her, "You have to put in effort." "You can't do nothing and shift." "You have to use the lucid dream method." "You have to do xyz."

And all of that I did, until I discovered the law and realized that it was all bullshit. I had to stop letting these random people influence my journey. You don't have to put in effort, because shifting is effortless. You can do nothing and shift. You don't have to use any particular method, or a method for any matter. And you damn sure don't have to do anything to "get" you there.

However, with all that being said there is one thing that you make you a master shifter.

"But Love you just said there isn't anything."

And that is still true because there isn't anything except the assumption. Whatever you assume to be true, will be true.

So why not just skip the middle man and go straight to the end? That's it! Live in the end! Creation is fished! How to become a master shifter assume that you are one. However I did say "guide" so I will deliver! Here we go:

1.Take What Resonates

I can not stress this enough do not do something because someone else said that you should. If you don't want to do something then DON'T! Let's take me for example, I hate guided meditations so why on EARTH would I listen to them? I don't like subliminals, so I don't listen to them. It's as simple as that.

2. Stop Overconsuming

I promise you that you know more than what you think you know. You have GOT to trust yourself. When you get done reading this, log off. I am so serious, don't consume anymore content. You know what to do, I already said it twice before but here is it again; assume. You guys voted for this because you don't trust yourself, you would rather me or some other blogger tell you what you already know.

3. Assume, Decide, Be.

You want to know how I became a master shifter? I decided I was. It's that easy, it's that simple. One day I woke up and I thought to myself, "You know what Love, I am tired of other people running MY life. I tired of having to do a different method praying to the universe that it's going to work this time. So instead of doing all of that nonsense, I am just going to decide that I am a master shifter, and I shift everytime I want to without fail.

And that's another thing, failure doesn't exist unless you allow it. Assume you shift everytime you intend to without fail. Decide that you are a master shifter and most importantly be that. There is no point of constantly affirming that you're a master shifter if you are constantly looking for external validation.

I feel like it gets to a point in every shifters journey where you just have to realize that nobody can shift you but you, yes there are people (like me) who are willingly to help you. But at the end of the day to shift that is all you.

Now It's Time For A Horrible Analogy!

Imagine you are a chef right? And you've been making red beans & rice for awhile, once you started you may have needed a recipe right because you didn't know what you were doing. But when you got comfortable, and you started taking matters into your own hands you no longer needed a recipe. Now making that red beans & rice is instinct, it's second nature to you. You know exactly how much water to cook your beans in without measuring it, you know exactly how much of every seasoning to put into your dish. And you know what the kicker is? It comes out perfect everytime.

Be the chef, cook that red beans & rice (damn it now I'm hungry) you know how to make it! You don't need a recipe, you made it yours and it's utter perfection.

Be that master shifter, shift, you know how to do it! You don't need a method (however if that is what resonates with you then be my guest) you made your shifting journey yours and it's utter perfection. The way I may like my red beans & rice may not be the way you like yours, but as long as we are both satisfied with the end result then who cares really?

Let's Wrap It Up Now!

Just assume that you are a master shifter, make that decision, and be that person. Do what YOU want to do, if you don't wanna use methods, then don't. If you love doing the raven method, then do it! This is your recipe as long as it comes out good to you then its perfect!

At the end of the day it all comes back down to your assumptions, you can shift whichever way you assume to go about it. Personally? I embody the state of being a master shifter, I know that I'm in my desired reality, I know it is not seperate from me, and I know that the physical irrelevant.

But that's my recipe, what's yours?

What inspired me to make this was @gh0ul1sh-grimm although they deactivated their account, @luryona posted the screenshots so I'll link the post:

https://www.tumblr.com/luryona/779003731992772608/they-deactivated-their-acc-they-do-think?source=share

I think it's an amazing read so go check it out!

[theseerasures]

i guess it really is an Ozdust reprise bc once again i can't think of a way to talk about this sequence except to walk through bit by bit

but no really: i think the most easily coherent way to bring out the tragedy of this scene is to highlight how Gelphie took away fundamentally different lessons from the Ozdust, and it just never came to light until now

for Elphaba it truly is that she was changed for good, despite the Ozdust happening while we're only a third into the show. even the least jaded Elphabas come in pretty convinced that no one will ever accept her, but then Galinda just...makes it happen during a 45 second dance break. it's why she's willing to hear Galinda out during Popular--Galinda's way WORKS, even if it only works for Galinda. it's why the pronoun changes during the unlimited motif here; Elphaba really believes that she and Glinda can change the world together. to her perspective, they already have.

but--as Katie's overwhelmed/incredulous expression shows--that's not what happened for Glinda at ALL. what happened at the Ozdust, for Glinda, is that she had done a Bad Thing. this made another person feel awful; equally importantly, it had made GALINDA feel awful, so she had to fix it even though it was maybe the most terrifying thing she'd ever done. she's glad she did it because it made her a better person and she and Elphie are friends now, but she never wants to do that again. the reason it's so important to teach Elphaba about Popular is so they can avoid anything like it in the future. the idea that they could do a bigger, scarier version of the Ozdust here, then, is completely unfathomable. the only reason the Ozdust worked out the way it did is because everyone loved Galinda already at Shiz, but Glinda, here? the Wizard doesn't know Glinda. Madame Morrible certainly doesn't love Glinda. Fiyero might not even love Glinda, anymore. Glinda can't possibly help Elphaba change the world.

...and Glinda doesn't want the world to change. she's good at this world, right now; that's why she could bring Elphie back into the fold at school. she might even be able to do it again, here, but if Elphaba doesn't want that--if the only thing Elphaba wants is this...

the crazy thing is she almost gives in anyway. the script says she has to, obviously, but what comes across for this particular performance is Glinda almost gets on the broom for no other reason except that Elphaba is the one asking. the moment when Glinda steels herself before grabbing the broom is the same moment earlier when Glinda steeled herself before saying "don't be afraid" is the same moment later when Glinda will steel herself before bidding Elphaba goodbye. it all comes down to this: Elphie needs her. in the face of something so simple, what can Glinda do, except everything she can?

so the duet portion of this sequence is just. Elphaba's all Glinda i believe in you more than anything else in the world, you might not think you can do this but you absolutely can you can do anything. and Glinda's like Elphie i cannot follow any of your cognitive leaps and when i do they seem like the scariest most horrible things in the world, but if this is what you want i will try to help you bc you deserve everything and i believe in you even when i think you are concussed somehow. then Elphaba's like i know this dream we both want seems impossible but we can achieve it if we work together while Glinda's going i cannot fathom why literally anyone would want what you want but you seem very convinced so and you'd think at this point they'd be like what? and realize they're having two completely different conversations but instead they're so stupid with the love beaming out of their bodies it seems it might actually work out

but of course it doesn't. the script says so, and this is Katie's Glinda, so of course the bitch has to start thinking.

and it's funny. "Glinda doesn't get on the broom because she's scared" is one of the most common readings of this moment for pretty obvious reasons. "Glinda doesn't get on the broom because she's scared of Elphaba" is much rarer and, when done well, stands out a lot more; the example that comes most to mind is Alison Luff and Gina Beck, where Alison's Elphaba is so outraged by what she reads as Gina!Glinda's betrayal that it feels pretty justifiable that Glinda fears for her own safety.

then you have Katie here, who is not doing either of those but some secret third thing. that she looks at Elphaba before flinching away from the broom (btw thank you Laurel Harris for putting your hands over Katie's; my wife and i now hiss "trap her. trap her u coward" during this scene because of you) implies that was what spooked her, but it's hard for me to buy she's scared Elphaba might hurt her, because a) Laurel's Elphaba is the most pathetic of meow meows and b) Katie's Glinda, despite being a massive coward, somehow also has no sense of self-preservation

instead it feels...almost metaphysical? back in One Short Day Glinda had been cognizant of something happening between them, which she couldn't identify but Elphie could. back then she'd asked for time to figure it out; now there's no time and she's cottoned onto just how overpowering her instinct to do literally anything with Elphaba, for Elphaba, has become. it's one thing to have misgivings about Elphaba's vision for the future because it's ridiculous (and because there might not be a place for Glinda there), but it's another thing to realize that none of those misgivings matter for Glinda herself, because some part of Glinda loves Elphaba so much she was about to atomize her own wants and identity without thinking twice.

which might be the scariest thing of all for Glinda--all Glindas, even if they don't think through it as much.

they'll never bring us down, promises Elphaba, but she's not even looking at Glinda anymore. where Elphaba sees a flight into the sublime, Glinda can only see a fall into nothingness.