#I feel as if someone might have done this before

[artdcnaldson]

okay but PLEASE elaborate on Olympics!Art AU

TeeHee

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v), feral obsessive behavior, infidelity

A/N: And you would do it too, that’s all I’m saying. Also IMPORTANT note: I love Tashi, she is a mother to many. However this fic has a very obsessive reader who just wants to fuck a married man, at Tashi’s expense

Maybe you were a bad person.

You’d met Art and Tashi Donaldson before— a year back at an event held for Tennis’ rising stars. That was you, some other guys who had done well in the Juniors, a girl from an Ivy League, and more people that fell into the blind spots of your interest..

You must’ve looked so sweet in your formalwear, approaching the couple with shaking hands so you could say just how big of a fan you were. You had no ill intent then, not when you were face to face with two people you’d idolized since you were twelve and watching the Junior US Open. That night you’d taken a deep breath as you stared at the ceiling of your home, feeling like you’d made it.

Sure, Art was handsome, and you’d lived the past decade harboring a massive celebrity crush on him, but he was married, he was untouchable. Art Donaldson oozed that sweet, devoted husband shtick. Anniversary posts, birthday posts, Valentine’s Day posts, Mother’s Day posts. He had a daughter, he posted about how much he loved being a dad.

You were fine accepting that your fantasies of fucking Art Donaldson were strictly fantasies. But that was before you qualified and had to see him every fucking day.

Art Donaldson, who held open doors for you, who talked to you casually, like he might an old friend. Art, who stood in the long line in the food court with you, ate something he probably shouldn’t have, and asked that you don’t tell Tashi.

And you’d smile conspiratorially, and assure him his secret was safe with you. The implication being that you’d keep that secret, and more. As many as he’d ask you to, really.

You’d see him on a practice court, running drills with his wife, and feel the heat of jealousy in the pit of your stomach. You’d turn away, focus on your own game, practice until your hands were aching and sore.

“Where’s Mrs. Donaldson?” You asked one night after you’d been sexiled and had to sit out in the hallway waiting for your roommate to finish up. Art leaned against the wall, standing tall above you, so you had to crane your neck. You liked that point of view, on your knees looking up at him, you wondered if he liked it too.

“Oh, she’s staying in a very nice, very expensive hotel room with our daughter right now,” he said with a grin. “As soon as my events are done, that’s where I’ll be too.”

“Oh,” you said, bringing an easy smile to your lips. “Well, we’re all glad you’re here now.”

“We?” He questioned.

You gave a coy smile, batting your lashes so sweetly. “Maybe just me.”

There was a strange expression on his face for just a moment. Then he laughed like it was nothing. He wished you a goodnight and good luck in your matches the next morning, and disappeared into his own room.

You medaled in women’s doubles. They published photos of you and your partner biting the silver between your teeth. That same day, Art Donaldson took home gold. You were there to see the very end of his last match— every single collision of racket against ball, every step, every grunt of exertion. Your thighs clenched as you watched, fists balled up in the fabric of your skirt.

You wanted him in a needy, desperate sort of way. Like a groupie for a rock band, or a virgin being sacrificed on a mountaintop. You watched him celebrate with a kiss from Tashi and felt that same need like an open wound. Jealousy was festering in you like a rot.

The dive bar wasn’t what you’d expected. Something Art had found with a quick google search and a few minutes with a translation app. He’d knocked on your door to invite you, wearing the beaming smile of someone on top of the world.

“So you’ll come?” He asked after he told you all about it.

“Mhmm,” you said, heart hammering against your ribs. “I’ll come.”

And there you were— in a dress that hardly qualified as such— standing so close to him that you could smell his expensive cologne. His arm would brush yours, he’d glance over and apologize with a warm hand to your arm. You’d clench your thighs together and peer at him through your lashes. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.

A few of the other players disappeared to play darts, or watch the late night coverage of the other sports still competing. You stuck by Art’s side, happily allowing his attention to fall on you completely.

“I saw parts of your doubles final,” he said finally. He was drinking a brand of beer you’d never seen before— something local, you supposed. “You looked beautiful out there.” Your eyes lit up, and then he added. “The way you were playing, I mean— it was phenomenal.”

“Well, I’m no gold medalist,” you said. You let your hand rest on his arm, and looked up at him. The fingers on your other hand toyed with the edge of the medal, warm from where it had been flush against his chest.

He swallowed. You felt his muscles flex beneath your touch, but he didn’t discourage it. Not one fucking bit.

It wasn’t lost on you that Tashi wasn’t there. Not that it was really her type of venue, from what you had gathered. It wasn’t lost on you that Art Donaldson was at a dive bar, drinking random Brazilian beers, instead of celebrating with his wife, with his daughter. Fuck all those posts on his instagram— if he really was a good husband, a faithful one… that’s the only place he’d want to be.

“I saw your match too. I ran right over after my ceremony to watch,” you confessed. It was hard to concentrate on anything else— you were standing so close to him that you were nearly pressed completely into his body.

His lips twitched in interest. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Mhmm. It was incredible. You were so dominant out there, just taking what was rightfully yours.”

He swallowed again, gravitating closer. Your tits were practically spilling out of your dress— he probably got the perfect eyeful when he eased you closer with a firm hand on your lower back, when he looked down at you through blown pupils.

“You looked so fucking hot out there, Art,” you said, lips brushing against his jawline. “You can’t even imagine how it felt sitting there, watching you win. How turned on I got… how wet.”

Art exhaled a shuddery breath. “Jesus Christ.”

It must’ve been a while since he had someone want him this bad, you thought. Clearly he needed it— needed a pretty, sweet thing to tell him just how much they wanted him. You could be that. You could do that.

“I’m not wearing panties,” you whispered in his ear. His grip on you tightened and you had to suppress a giddy smile. “You can feel if you want. I won’t tell.”

He swore under his breath and glanced around. Everyone was too occupied or drunk to give a shit about what the two of you were up to.

He grabbed your hand, pulled you away into the bathroom. You looked pretty even then, in the flickering lights, sat up on the edge of the sink eagerly awaiting his attention.

When he wrenched your thighs apart, he was greeted by the pretty sight of your glistening cunt— sticky with arousal and need. His hand fit there perfectly, right where you needed it.

“Fuck,” you gasped. His fingers rubbed through your slit— wet and hot and aching for him. Your head fell back, knocking against the dirty mirror. “Want you to use me— whatever you want, just take it.”

And you meant it too. This was your teenage idol— a man you’d touched yourself to the thought of countless times. He owned your body, your sexuality, as much as you did. It was only fair he took from it whatever he pleased.

You watched with hungry eyes as he fumbled with the button of his pants, then shoved them down just enough to free his dick.

Your mouth fucking watered with the need to feel it on your tongue, nudging against the back of your throat. You weren’t opposed to begging— you nearly started before you got it into your hand.

Warm, thick, pulsing. Precum beaded at his tip, so you smeared it around the sensitive head of his cock with your thumb. He groaned, bucked into your fist once, twice before he moved your hand.

“Spread your legs wider for me,” he said, slapping the inside of your thighs. You obeyed wordlessly, spreading yourself out invitingly. He pressed closer, so you felt him rutting his dick against your pussy, coating it in your arousal. “God, you’re so fucking wet.”

The words came out with equal parts disgust and awe. He probably thought you were a slut with the way you were throwing yourself at him. You wished he’d just call you that, spit it in your face.

Your cunt pulsed with need, aching to be filled up finally. The culmination of years of fantasizing. Art pressed himself against your entrance, sinking himself into you with the slow reverence of a man who liked making love.

He buried himself inside of you and had to stop moving to keep from cumming then and there. He was a perfect image of restraint— the way his fingers dimpled the flesh of your hips in a bruising grip.

Art wanted to be a gentleman— to give you time to adjust to the size of him, to ease you into it and let the pleasure be a slow, soft burn. He pulled out nice and easy, slid himself into your wet, throbbing cunt. That was all fine and good, but you knew it was just pretense. You were laid out and wanting, begging for him to use you as his own personal toy.

“I’m not your wife, Art.” You met his gaze, locked your ankles around his waist. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

The first thrust, the first real one, knocked the air from your lungs. That silence didn’t last long— because you got what you wanted— he was really fucking you, bullying his cock into your pussy with the same need and desperation that you felt.

“Jesus Christ, you’ve— fuck— you’ve got no fucking self respect, huh?” He pounded into you, leveraging his grip to pull you against him, really impale you on his dick.

The moan that escaped you was pornographic. If he kept talking to you like that, if he kept fucking you like that, you’d cum.

“You don’t even care, do you? This fucking pussy’s squeezing me so tight— you fucking love this,” His voice was strained, interrupted by groans and pants.

You moaned, eyes rolling back. “Love this,” you echoed. When you looked down, at the sight of him splitting you open, of the ring of creamy arousal circling the base of his dick, you felt dizzy. Like you were standing on top of a tall building and looking down. Sort of out of body, tethered in the present by brutal thrusts into your pussy and the wet, slapping sounds of your bodies joining.

Your fingers moved between your thighs, rubbing needy and insistent at your clit. So close to finishing that you wanted to cry and just ask to start over again, that you’d savor it more a second time.

“Gonna cum,” he groaned suddenly. You felt him start to pull out, to leave. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck— not yet, you didn’t want it to end like that. “I have an IUD,” you lied through your teeth. You used your legs, pulled him closer, deeper. “Just keep going, don’t stop. I’m right there.”

He moaned against your throat— holding you tight, fucking into you with animal need. Your fingers moved against your clit with an insistent need. It didn’t take much to push you over the edge. Your moans so loud that Art had to put his medal between your lips to shut you up.

And you were so pliant— letting him drill into your aching, used cunt, your mouth tasting like metal. You felt his rhythm falter— one, two harsh thrusts that knocked muffled moans from you until he came, painting your insides thick, creamy white.

He stayed buried inside of you for a while— panting, doing his best to catch his breath. You spat out the medal and it fell back against his chest, spit slick and shining. You reached up, ran your fingers along his face, reverently, sweetly. A lock of hair fell into his eyes and you tucked it away with delicate fingers.

When he pulled out, you felt that sinking feeling of loss and jealousy in your chest. He redressed in silence, turned away like he couldn’t stand to look at you, or the mirror. Shame rolled off of him in waves that you wanted to brush away.

It wasn’t bad, you’d assure him. You’re a tennis star, you’re the greatest in the world. You should have whatever you want, whenever you want it.

But you didn’t say that. You just tidied yourself up as best as you could and slipped back out into the bar. If anyone noticed, they said nothing.

[iwaasfairy]

Daddy Toji using his daughter at a placeholder for his late wife. Obsessed with breeding her and making her into the perfect housewife

tw incest, dirty talk, daddy x daughter, grooming and traditional role stuff, age gap, slight size

You’ve got your back to him when you bend at the waist and hum, distractedly glancing between your work and him when he clears his voice. “Oh, daddy! I’m almost done here. Could you call Megumi nii to the table too, pretty please?” Your hair sways over your back when you straighten up, place the gloves on the stove and go to get some plates from the cabinets — for which you have to stand on your tippy toes. A few seconds of trying where your approximation of a shirt rides up even higher on your sternum, and he gets comfortable in the doorframe.

He’d hate it more if you were going out dressed like that for anyone else. Luckily for him, you know your place. You’re a good girl. “What’re you doin’, squirt?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Not that it really matters. “Come here.” After a few more moments of fluttering around the room, you finally cast your pretty eyes on him, and let them catch his gaze. You bite your lip, then let his hand pull you in by your neck to snuggle into his chest.

You lean up to kiss under his chin, tickling the stubble, and drag your face down his throat devoted as you are, until your face can rest onto his pecks. “Made dinner for you and niichan! You forget to eat if I don’t, so I thought it’d be good.” Heat creeps up onto your face when he trails his fingers down your neck to loop under your spaghetti straps, arms still looped loosely around his waist.

“That so?”

“Is that okay?” You quietly ask then. Your eyes search for approval so blatantly, and your lips puff out in a little pout that makes him smile. Instead of an answer, he pulls you closer by the base of your neck, and pushes his lips to your crown. Your hands smooth over his forearms, picking at the hair of them absentmindedly. He doesn’t mind. It’s cute.

“‘Ya like helping out in the house like a good little wife?” He can feel you nod against him, and the way your lips brush against his heartbeat through his shirt. “Yes, you like helping? Or yes, you’re trainin’ to be someone’s little housewife.”

Your arms wrap a bit tighter, and a puff of air comes through the fabric. “I wanna be good for you and Gumi nii, is all. If daddy asks me to do something of course I will… But as for being someone’s housewife…I don’t- I…” When you turn your face to look up at him, you’re only inches apart. He can see the thought before it comes, and you go to pull onto his shirt where his heart is. Tugging for attention, for him to put you out of your misery. He knows it means ‘help me, daddy’, even if you can’t say it out loud.

He can’t help the grin that tugs at the sides of his mouth, and he squeezes your soft cheeks between his fingers to keep you in place. And you basically melt. “You got someone in mind who you wanna serve like that, then? Is it Megumi nii?” His low voice makes you shiver, and bite back a noise of your own- but only barely.

“Agh, d-daddy.”

It’s cruel. But you’re just so fucking adorable when you’re tripping over yourself in need of his approval. “I think you know exactly what you want in return for all this, hm?” His mouth hovers close enough to yours to feel your breathing on his lips, count every speck in your eyes. You’re burning up, and your hands start gliding around his chest like you’re searching for purchase. “Do you know that little housewives also serve in other ways?”

Your eyes flutter when he whispers. “I know that.” Your voice is whiny already, throwing on a winning pout that he knows for sure works on Megumi. You might not be fully conscious of it, but you’re a little vixen in the making. Which is exactly why you’re not going anywhere without him. “Daddy~” You whine when he lets the silence linger with his hand on your face, and your fingers finally dig into his biceps to pull yourself closer to him. You’re basically melting yourself to his front before he allows you another bit of give, and his lips brush against yours.

“What’s it you want as a thank you?” Just close enough to make you look so frustrated you might cry. Instead of responding, you bite your lip, and shift between both legs, pushing them together. You can’t quite say it, but you’re not subtle. The grin travels up his cheeks, he can’t help it. “Wanna show daddy you know something about serving, s’ that it?”

There’s an unintentional glint in your eye. “That’s it, ain’t it, baby.” The way you open and close your mouth like a fish out of water has him walking you back until your thighs hit the table, and you let out a noise that has his brain tingling. If you didn’t make it so fucking easy, maybe he wouldn’t tease you like this. “Tilt your head back. Let me see your pretty, little body. You’re such a daddy’s girl.” Maybe he’d be content letting you fly out of the nest on your own. But you stare up at him dumbly, embarrassed eyes flicking all over the room, as your breathing pinches. “Who knew you’d grow up to be such a little whore…”

“Daddy.”

You know what you’re doing. Panting it with such a little whine that it's making his groin all hot, blood rushing down. He can feel his balls pull, and how his cock twitches to life when you moan. “Daddy- love you.”

His lips slide from your forehead straight to your neck, ignoring the way you crane your head to get closer. Instead he wraps one hand around your thigh, and pulls it up to make room for his waist between your legs, as he places a kiss on your throat. “D-daddy, I-,” heavy breathing punctuates your struggle, and you whimper, “my body f-feels- weird~ And I’m lightheaded.” There’s another little noise, before you press your center back against him instinctively, and he places teasing kisses down the skin, dragging his stubble where it makes you shiver. “Tell me what to do, please.”

“Nothing,” Toji chuckles instead, “let it happen. You wanted this, right?” He pushes you down onto the table until you’re squirming and kisses become tongue and teeth, and your hands start grabbing at his wide shoulders. Your whimpering only increases, and his center needs the friction your body can provide. He could feel shame about the precum dripping down his cock even without proper touch. But he’d be pretending. “You wanna serve daddy like a real wife would?”

He wants to, too. Daddy wants to feel that little daughter pussy squeezing around his cock too. Crossing that line is as easy as breathing, when it's you. His fingers drag up the inside of your thigh until you freeze up entirely when he drags them over your panties, pulling back to watch.

You look so fucking cute innocent and unknowing and woefully underequiped to handle any of this. Embarrassment plays in your eyes in the form of big, glittery tears that wobble on your lash line as he pushes a little more on your slit, feeling the wetness seep through. And you swallow. This is making him so hard. Your pants, faint and desperate, make his cock rock solid in his sweats.”Y-yeah. Wan’it.”

“If you don’t say it properly, I can’t help you. What do you want?” The look he gives you doesn’t leave room for discussion, and you squeeze him a little closer with your legs. Voice desperately trying to hold back the whines. Thick fingers grind the panties into your slit to rub circles over your clit, before he peels away the undies to let them snap back. “The food’s getting cold, we’re running out of time.”

“Daddy~ Please!” You pant, pulling his hand closer to your pussy. It takes a few seconds for you to think over the possibilities, before you finally let out a cry. “Wanna see daddy’s body. Please. Wanna touch it.” You pull at the elastic of his sweats, and look between your two bodies with unfocused eyes. Your bitten lips are puffy and full of blood when you release then from between your teeth. “Wanna be rewarded like a ‘good little wife’ would. Please? Please.”

That’s all you had to say, doll. He pulls your panties down just enough to reveal your glistening pussy to the warm, kitchen light— before smiling down at you. With one hand he pulls up the shirt over his shoulders, while the other grips his hot, throbbing cock through the already sticky, dampened fabric. A few dry pumps, before he’s pushing it down until his thick cock jumps out. Reddish, hot, and twitching in his hand. “Open your legs more. And give me your hands.”

You let him wrap your hands around him so easily, whispering pleas when his cockhead kisses your pussy. “Now lead daddy inside you… That’s it~”

[imaluckygirl]

⭑ leak & delete

( enhypen reaction )

synopsis: what if your boyfriend — accidentally — press the post button and suddenly a photo of both of you together starts circulating on the internet/news? how he would react?

( 엔하이픈 ) - idol!maknaeline x fem.reader ( hyung ver. ) ; angst & fluff

──── bookshelf .

warnings: curse words, mentions of breaking up, enha members have a private instagram account ; long descriptions.

note: winter break is almost here in brazil, i can’t believe!!!!!! i can’t wait to have time and relax; update more often… unfortunately, one month flows really fast, but let’s make this one month vacation worth hehe ><

sunwoo would be so apologetic. he loves just taking pictures with you and of you — going from those cute pinterest couple pictures to those funny couple pictures. it’s sad that, unfortunately, when he accidentally clicked the post button and realised he did something wrong, his phone ran off of battery. the next thing he did was gasp and with his mouth open in shock. riki — who is sunwoo’s roommate — was scrolling through his phone when he heard a loud and exaggerated — the sound was almost cartoonish — gasp. “what?” riki asked, looking at sunwoo, annoyed but curious.

not hearing any answers coming out of his mouth, the youngest sighed, turning his body on the bed to look at sunwoo’s laid figure. “who’s pregnant?” “i messed up, riki.” riki dropped his head to the side while frowning, confused about what was going on. “what do you me-” “i-i posted a photo- just- can you-” “hey, calm down, talk to me man,” the black haired teased. “don’t spit random words.” “just- please, can i see my profile please?” “yeah?” riki cocked a brow, watching his roommate standing up from his bed after connecting his phone to his charger, proceeding to lay on riki’s bed by his side; unbothered by the bed owner’s presence, receiving a bothered side eye from the japanese member.

riki searched for his friend’s username and once he clicked on his profile, sunwoo snapped the phone from riki’s hand, not even spending a second looking for what he was so worried about; because he quickly found it: the photo was posted five minutes ago. riki, noticing the roommate’s unquietness, stood his body up — supporting his torso with his arms and hands — glancing at the phone’s screen behind sunwoo’s back; feeling a sense of curiously growing inside of him. “what happe-BRO YOU-”

riki was rubbing his hyung’s back, quietly trying to support him — pursing his lips mostly of the time because he didn’t know how to help. “it’s all good, hyung,” the youngest thought before pronouncing his words. “i mean, since you posted the photo at midnight, probably not many people must have seen it-” a knock on the door was heard, revealing jungwon’s sleepy figure. “kim sunwoo, what have you done for the director call me this time in the morning?” riki smirked, giggling before speaking: “oh, hyung, sunwoo hyung just posted a photo with y/n on instagra-” “SHUT UP!”

okay, so, let's talk about what happened: basically, sunwoo was called to go on a meeting with the director, and the director wasn't amazed that sunwoo couldn't delete the post under ten minutes because he got a little bit too carried away trying to explain the group's leader what had happened. the superior was pissed off, but couldn't blame sunwoo for loving someone; and also, how could he severely punish someone like him? he was always super dedicated, cheerful, committed and charismatic — literally the group's sunshine.

well, speaking like this, this situation is might be perceived as a piece of cake now. except that sunwoo hasn't spoke to you, and read articles saying that you weren't a public person and was supposedly dating the enhypen's kim. he was worried and constantly thinking about what was going through your head once you read those comments speaking about your appeal — even though dispatch and other blogs had blurred your face — and saying shit about you. unfortunately, as an idol and a public personality, he was already very familiar with those comments and feelings, making him less overwhelmed than when he actually became an idol; as an rookie in the industry.

sunwoo agreed with the director and took responsibility of his actions, even though it was all an complete mess and accident. sunwoo even shared his concern about you, a little bit hesitant and reluctant, but your safety was all he desires. later that day he saw a ton of texts from you, going from “good morning :)”, to “why there are people trying to follow me on instagram??????”. when sending those texts to him you couldn't even imagine what happened. you were at college all day and didn't opened any social medias for the entire week because of your busy schedule. however, you wished you hadn't, and you had have the patience to wait for your boyfriend's explanation. you were already kinda worked out when texting him; and then when he wasn't replying to you, you got even more pissed.

but, oh boy, hearing how his voice was weak and trembling, like he was trying to keep his tone firm just so he could murmur a ton of apologies to you; make your heart drop. you could never be mad at kim sunwoo for long. “it's okay baby.” you speak behind the call. “do you want me to come over?” you asked him with a gentle and soft voice. “n-no, you're g-good, i'm almost fr-free;” sniff. “so i can ask to be dropped there.”

cuddle this baby, it wasn't his fault after all. he was feeling his chest hurt with the feeling of guilt and dumbness; but you make sure to make him brush those feelings away and focus on how your finger play with his hair and untangle hair knots. and in the end of the day, belift kept silent but didn't denied any type of romantic relationship going on between you two, making the media even crazier and curious about these rumors and the lack of information they were receiving. receiving infos or not, sunwoo was by your side now, not as just a secret — well, maybe just a little secret now?

jungwon, in the first place, would probably one of the last members to create an instagram account. counting with that, the chances of something being accidentally leaked was close to 1% — but not zero percent.

okay, let me tell you, jungwon would be scrolling through his instagram gallery and he was just about to post a picture of both of you kissing on the instagram stories; for his close friends only. however, when jungwon finished writing a cute text/message for you after adding a romantic song to the story, he simply clicked on the post button — except that later he realised it wasn’t posted only on his close friends, but for his whole followers to see. “oh but… at least he realised it?” yeah he did; four hours later. because he posted and then left the app, opening the app hours later just to check new posts and to check his own posts; and that’s the moment he saw the photo he posted on his stories wasn’t in his only friends.

jungwon immediately deleted the story and called his manager, telling him what have happened. since he is the group’s leader he has to be responsible and mature, that’s why he was clear with his manager and company. when he hanged up the call with his upset manager, his room door was suddenly opened, revealing three of his members — riki, jaeyun, heeseung; sunwoo and jongseong appeared a minute later. heeseung was with his phone in hands while riki and jaeyun were standing behind the oldest, curious about their leader action; and just as confused. “hey, what did you just posted? belift just called us and wants to see you tomorrow at the meeting room.” heeseung spoke and jungwon froze. his heart started beating fast even though he knew this was eventually coming.

“why did they called you instead of me?” jungwon asked, already sitting on his bed, nervous. “they said you were in a call with another person, was it y/n?” heeseung asked without even hesitating. “no! wait- fu-, i don’t- i need to think.” jungwon stood up from his bed, walking past the five masculine curious figures to breath some fresh air. “hey bro-” sunghoon — who was sat on the living room’s couch, waved his hands but saw heeseung gesturing him that it wasn’t a good time, making him cough and cringe.

taking a deep breath he placed his arms on the balcony’s parapet, watching the snowy windy weather making his breath turn into a white fumace. jungwon closed his eyes and picked up his phone to call you. “hi baby!” your sweet voice resounded behind the device’s speaker. “oh… hey, um…” “what happened?” jungwon’s legs began to feel like jelly and his eyes started to water. “wonie?” he sighed before speaking: “um, i–i… i’m sorry baby, i posted a picture of us on my stories thinking i had posted on my close friends; and…” he was out of breath for explaining all of it at once. “are you okay wonie?” — were you okay?

resuming everything: jungwon went to the company’s building and went straight to the meeting room. the white painted walls made him feel uncomfortable, and the feeling of guiltiness was unhelpful. you or course forgave your boyfriend. you told him he had more important things to worry about, and not about apologising for something that was accidentally done. but he kept saying he was sorry anyway. however, in the end, jungwon decided to ask you if it was okay to reveal your relationship and you were pretty chill with it; since you trusted on your boyfriend’s choices and maturity. dispatch later released an article about both of you, revealing that belift had contacted with them and said both of you had good sentiments about each other. the CEO was pissed off and denied to accept his relationship with you, but the enhypen’s leader insisted and eventually his manager and superior couldn’t help to be proud of jungwon for being mature and understanding the company’s side, letting him have this freedom.

riki wouldn’t really bother since he knew that the secret relationship wasn’t going to be a forever thing; and would actually joke about it, but still feel very concern about you. on weverse, he was about to post a photo of him at the practice room after finishing practicing, saying: “practice is donee! 🔥 ㅋ what are engenes doing?”. the thing is that you were at the practice room just watching your boyfriend looking hot while dancing wearing his grey trousers and hoodie. oh, so what? what could go wrong? nothing, but riki didn’t double checked which pictures he was selecting and deciding to post, letting the photo where he kisses your cheek while sitting beside you on the ground slip from his sight.

okay, riki is the member that every engene goes crazy about, and you guys can’t tell me otherwise. so when he posted the photos, waiting for the engenes to see it and comment, everyone was confused and going nuts. “i’m going to ruin this girl’s life 🥺 ㅎㅎㅎㅎ” — and that was the comment he was the most afraid about. however, he was confused with those comments since he didn’t checked the photos and everyone was commenting about a girl in the picture. and then before he knew it, dispatch already has posted a screenshot of riki’s weverse account with the photo of both of you, saying: “who is this mysterious girl?”.

fortunately, your instagram account is private, just people you know follows you and comments on your posts. but, why are there literally hundreds of people wanting to follow you? you didn’t know, but people already have found you. sounds scary, and for you it is, but you thought you were just being paranoid about it, brushing away this strange feeling that was slowly growing in your chest.

this strange feeling just got worse when you saw riki sitting by your side and picking up his phone to answer engenes five minutes after posting the pictures he took two hours ago. as i mentioned, he wasn’t expecting to see comments like people threatening someone’s girl or something, making him concern about what he had done; because he knew he has taken a picture with you before deciding to post it. i think he got a bit carried away with his practice and forgot to check if the photos he had selected were okay before clicking the post button.

“‘ki? what happened?” you asked your pale boyfriend. “u-um… nothing.” you saw how awkward he was acting, fidgeting on his phone’s screen with eager, like he was trying to undo something as fast as possible. “are you cheating on me?” you joked, but watched your boyfriend flashing his head towards you gulping down tightly. “i may have– like…” riki leaned his body forward, getting his back off from the sofa’s material. “posted a picture of us kissing?” he dropped his head to the side, sending you a half-hearted smile. your mouth dropped, making him take a deep breath and rub his temples, pulling you for a hug. “i’m so sorry, i didn’t see it…” riki whispered, placing a sweet kiss onto your scalp. you were told shocked to answer his apologies, making him even more nervous and the guiltiness was punching his stomach.

riki was feeling like he was about to throw up. imagine losing your first love just because he accidentally pressed a single button? imagine losing the love of your life just because you did something stupid and dumb? it couldn’t be worse. but riki couldn’t get really into his deep feeling because his manager managed to snap the practice’s room door open, clearly not in his most calm state. “riki, meeting room.” the manager spoke firmly leaving the room beating his feet on the ground. riki whined against your hair, and you felt the manager’s gazing at you with anger — that made you feel extremely uncomfortable, but tried to shake this feeling off just to make things go smoother and easier, because you could tell it wasn’t going to be easy for poor riki. “see you later baby.” he sent you a flying kiss after pulling away from you, standing up from the sofa. “i’m sorry again okay? i’ll solve this.” he placed a kiss on your pouty lips and smiled at himself, like he was trying to enjoy the last moment he thought he had with you being his girlfriend.

thankfully, when riki arrived at the meeting room the manager seemed to be calmer. however, the CEO didn’t seemed like it, turning riki into a anxious mess. since the youngest was japanese, which means he was foreigner, the company was harsher with him. were more cruel and hostile in some kind of ways. except this time was a more of a serious topic, and the CEO wasn’t looking very happy. riki was already waiting for having to record a apology video and then break up with you or, worse, being expelled from the company’s team. even the thought of this possibility makes the black haired boy shiver from his head to his toe.

“nishimura riki, we need to talk.” was the first thing he heard echoing at the meeting room, and then this was the moment riki knew it was going to be a long day of talking. meanwhile, you were walking back home when suddenly heard your phone ringing. you quickly picked up the device from your coat’s pocket and answered the call, letting your boyfriend’s deep voice flow into your ear. “babe, i’m sorry but i had to agree with revealing our relationship.” his tone was apologetic, but you silently chuckled behind the call. “i mean– i feel bad for making this decision without your actual consent and opinion but otherwise i would have to leave you; and–” “it’s okay baby.” because of your tone, riki knew you were smiling. “where are you?” you heard him asking, making you realise you were just walking on the streets. proceeding to turn your body to take a look around, you answered replying: “i don’t know, it’s like–” “surprise, surprise~” you heard a familiar voice hum behind you. slowly turning your body towards the voice, you were met with the smiley figure of your boyfriend. “hey pretty.” his smile grew as he saw your eyes shining under the night sky. “do you have a boyfriend?” and you could only laugh at his attempt to make you smile between such a difficult situation you were put in; but now you couldn’t be happier without being a secret anymore, feeling so strong that you felt like you and riki could run through all those hate comments. yeah, both of you are definitely inseparable.

© imaluckygirl , originals .ᐟ 24.

taglist: @jakesangel , @laylasbunbunny , @jaeyunpinkyring ( + ) @secretlyapartofthisfandom . . .

[kanmom51]

I actually have a crazy theory...

I have already sent this ask as the response to someone else’s thoughts, but then I thought about it and I REALLY wanted to know your opinion about this.

I think Jikook by the beginning of last year didn't know they were enlisting together.

I think they obviously knew about buddy system but didn't actually think they would need to use it. Because it's not really done by idols, and also they both could've gone to safer and easier stations, where they could have more freedom.

BUT THEN Jimin started working intensely on his album and JK started acting out (like having drunken lives), and it became VERY CLEAR that they would not be able to do 18 months apart.

I mean do you remember, that at this time JK said himself that he was not working on anything. And I think the plan was for Jimin to go first (just like a lot of us thought he would) and for JK to have more time for promo alone, when others are gone (I’m pretty sure that HYBE definitely wanted for JK to have big solo debut apart from other members).

But then like I said the drunken lives happened and realization hit, that they have to apply for buddy system, that 18 months apart would be BAD for both of them.

And that's when HYBE (or whoever) made specific demands from JK. Like if he wanted to leave by the end of the year (and he had to for buddy system to work) he HAS TO do the album, and because there was no time to write it from scratch they got all the English songs. Also his schedule was extremely packed and difficult.

So I think that the travel show was something Jikook specifically done for themselves because JK's schedule was so insane that if not for that excuse they would not be able to hang out freely before the enlistment. (By the way am I the only one who thinks that we are getting the travel show only next year? And waiting for it now is kinda crazy?)

But again it's just my theory, mostly because HYBE doesn't feel (to me) like the company who would just let their artists do whatever they want. To me they are waaay more pragmatic than that, and if they decided to allow their stars to enlist together (something that isn't really done in idol culture), than they would make sure to get something in return. They worked JK very hard, and I think he took it because he had a specific goal (more like a person) in mind that he was willing to work for.

So, although we might be on the same wave with some of your thoughts, I don't fully agree with you.

I agree that they didn't know they would be enlisting together way back at the start of 2023.

I think that way back then they were still struggling with the realization that they will have to be enlisting. All the way back to the end of 2022, basically up to around the Busan concert, which was October 2022, they still held hope that some kind of arrangement could and would be found to allow for them not to enlist or to serve a shorter term. It was quite a conundrum for them, something I think most of them struggled with (and I say most because I do think that at least one of them did genuinely want to enlist) - on the one hand this is a life changing pretty scary thing (terrifying even - we saw how sad, and I will even say broken, JM was having to shave off his hair, and that was only a small part of it) they would have to do (joining the army is not a walk in the park, no pun intended), not to mention being in their prime, in the height of their success, having to part with the life they are accustomed to (professionally and personally), not being something they would necessarily want to do. And on the other hand you have that sense of commitment to the country and to their fellow Koreans, that have to face that same compulsory enlistment, adding the knowledge that not taking that path of enlistment could also come at a price. Like us, they knew that there were those that indeed believed they should be given an exemption, but at the same time many Koreans would have frowned upon it, and it's them that have to live among their people. Also, enlisting like any other SK young man would allow them more freedom in the future when it comes to voicing their opinions, as they had, like all others who had served their country fulfilling their duties. Criticisms of anything within a society you live in is easier to swallow when the person voicing said opinion is part of that society and enjoys not only the rights bestowed on those who live there, but has also fulfilled all required duties as well.

Long story short, end of 2022 the decision to enlist became a reality and Jin enlisting hit them all VERY hard. At that point I don't think they had a plan of enlistment just yet, although we do know from RM, for instance, that he was supposed to enlist with Hobi but ended up pushing back as he was busy working on his album and preferred not to lose the momentum.

And btw, hearing this from RM also teaches us that JM was never going to enlist so early on. And here I think our ways part when it comes to the continuation of your theory, because I do believe that JM's plan had ALWAYS been to stick around for JK's solo debut, whenever that would be. And I'll get back to it in a few...

JK was struggling start of 2023. What we got to see, starting with his lives in Feb 2023, him deleting his IG, was him pulling himself out of the pit he was in. Taking initiative and deleting his IG (which I will once again say was a big old F U to the company) and reaching out to us with his lives was JK becoming more active in getting better.

*Side note: I'm using the term getting better meaning pulling yourself out of a bad place you are in mentally (one that effects you physically as well).

Idk if starting the lives was a conscious decision on his part towards getting better, but I do believe that starting them was a key part in it.

Talking to us, sharing things with us, setting (at least trying to set) boundaries with his fans what is and is not acceptable on his part as an idol when it comes to fan behavior and interactions with him, doing it all in the most JK way, intelligently and respectfully.

JM was busy all the way from end of July 2023 through to the release of Face and until the end of his promotions. It's not that they weren't seeing each other or spending time together during this time. It's not that JM wasn't there for JK, as much as he could in the moment. It's very important to state this. But JK was struggling with everything. It's the hiatus, Jin's enlistment, their looming enlistment (the unknown of what will be with the two of them - separation for such a long time is something that both of them would find extremely hard to handle for so many reasons), the lack of direction, the lack of a structured timetable (JK is neuro divergent - there is zero doubt in my mind - if it's asd or adhd or a combination of the two, which in my mind is the most likely of them all). He was kind of lost and his anchor, JM, was not available in the way that he needed. Not JM's fault. Not JK's fault. It just was what it was, and JK was a little lost. It's natural for something like this to happen. I spoke about it quite a bit in my posts about his lives at the time. We saw RM was kind of lost for a while there too. The trick is to pick yourself up and pull yourself out of it (with help of others if necessary), and JK did, and JM was ecstatic to see him doing it. Those comments of his during JK's lives (we are talking about the lives during Feb-Mar 2023) were testimony to that.

Once again I can't seem to reign myself in and keep on point, lol.

So, where was I? Oh yes, they didn't know what will happen, but at the same time JM was not planning on enlisting earlier that year. Understand this: JM enlisting earlier would, to them, mean them being apart for not 18 months, but for 18 months plus. Plus the time between JM's enlistment and JK's enlistment. And plus the time from JM's discharge to JK's discharge. Even without JK's situation this was not something that they would want or agree on. Not to mention JK not only wanting JM around for his solo debut, but NEEDING him around for it. And it's not about being by his side 24/7, which he wasn't and he couldn't be. It's about being accessible. Being there to support him if he needed. Whenever he needed it. Being able to be with him for his first solo performance (this brings me close to another ask I received and am working on regarding JK's FIRST big solo performance). All this has to be within the limits of their glass closet (glass getting a little murky for their own liking since the end of 2021 all the way to the end of 2023), and the limits set by the powers of be (some of which JK very defiantly crossed). So yeah, JM was going to wait for JK's solo debut before enlisting.

As for enlisting together. That was something that was being assessed and in the works for several months. Something obviously kept quiet for good reason.

Was there a give and take with the company when it came to JK and the album? 100%. There were things he wanted, there were things they wanted, there were frogs that it being a first solo album he knew he would have to swallow.

Were some of these concessions given to allow the two more freedom, like allowing the 'travel show'? I do believe they were. Perhaps also prices paid (with Golden) for demands agreed upon in their new contracts. I can definitely see that happening.

The push for a full length album could be one of those, for example. JK was talking about a mini album even as late as mid July, and then it turned into a full length album. Could it have been the company pressuring him into it? Yes it could, as in the company wanting this. But JK is not one to cave in just because the company wants. So very possibly we had a bit of give and take going on here, and some of it most definitley would have had to do with allowances made for the two of them.

But at the same time I don't think it had anything to do with the joint enlistment. Not only don't I think that the company would have a say in it, legally or morally, but this wouldn't be something that either of them would stand for. So, in case I didn't make myself clear here, I will say it again - the company didn't use the possibility of joint enlistment as a tool to get something extra out of JK.

You talk about Hybe not being a company that will allow their artists to do as they wish. BTS belong to Big Hit, which is a subsidiary of Hybe. But Hybe would not have existed if not for BTS. BTS made BH what it is today and Hybe was built on their coat tails. And BTS, the members, they have enjoyed many freedoms within their company over the years. Not full freedom though. And Jikook, well they were allowed to be (while in other companies this was not allowed, couples forced apart or forced out). And not only were they allowed to be, but towards the end of 2020 there was movement towards normalizing their relationship, ear suck, hickey and all.

But then came Hybe and Hybe going public, and I knew the day that was announced that even though the members will get a huge payout this move will cost them freedoms they already had, because now there were shareholders and share prices to worry about, and when your band is the main bread winner for that company, well, as I mentioned, there is a price to pay. And they have been paying that price. The two of them for the 2 years prior to their enlistment. As long as they were under their old contracts they were bound by them. Which is why I feel like there will be changes coming when they are done with their MS and well into their new contracts. This will be freedom regarding their art (I think we can already see part of that with RM's new album) but also regarding their personal lives, in a sense of what they can or cannot show if they choose to. JK telling us he's human, telling us he loves us but he deserves to be happy, or even more needs to be happy to be able to create and perform and make us happy (you need to be especially dense if you don't understand that this also includes being in a relationship with another person, who may or may not be a member of his own band). This includes setting boundaries with their fans - yes they love them and feel indebted to them, but at the same time they need to stay in their own lane (I do think JK has been too nice at times setting these boundaries, while others like RM, Yoongi and Tae - a couple of times - were way blunter).

Once again, Hybe wouldn't have the right to 'allow' or 'disallow' them to enlist together. This would have been their decision and theirs alone. Hybe could talk about timing and what they would like to happen before or after, but not if it can or will happen. Hybe could like or dislike it, support it or not, but they would have no power over it. The military alone would have a say if to allow it or not, and at the end of the day we know how that one ended.

I also want to touch on another point.

Again.

Their choice to enlist together.

I've seen talk about Jikookers using the term NEED when it comes to the two of them - needing to be with one another to get through their military service, and I wanted to put in my two cents on this.

The way I think of it is that when people use the term need in that case it's not about saying that if they weren't allowed to enlist together they wouldn't have survived it. No. That isn't it. Not in my opinion, in any case.

These two young men are strong physically and mentally, and they would get through whatever was thrown their way (wouldn't be easy, I tell you that, but they would get through it). Chances are that if they wouldn't have gone down the path of enlisting together they could have landed a cushier placement, band perhaps, like NJ, who knows. But definitley the choice to do this together had a price tag to it, and their letters from Festa tell us as much as well (even though they obviously sugar coat it for us, but the sentiments are clear - it's hard).

So, they chose this. They knew this was going to be hard. A harder, more difficult, placement if they were to go down this path. And yet this was their choice!!

Why?

And here comes that NEED into play.

Yes, I do think that they needed this. They needed each other. They needed to not be separated for 18 months not knowing if and how often they could get to see each other or be together (maybe, if allowed, once in 3 months, and only if their units allowed the time off at the same time). They needed that person that they trusted and KNEW that would stand by their side, that would support them, be their rock, catch them when they fall, be by their side in their time of need, just like they always have been.

They are each other's PERSON. The one that would ALWAYS be there through good and bad.

They both put it down in words:

JM

And JK

Shock, awe... I must be one of those delusional Jikookers that believe JK's lyrics were not describing his relationship with us, the fans. Another song written for the one person they love, yet given as a gift to Army.

And in his very subtle but intelligent way, he told us that himself:

"Even when I was working on the song, I really wanted to release it as a fan song".

Just like JM did, eh?

Would it be too hard to just say : "I wrote this song for my fans"? He chose not to, didn't he? Once again we have choices here.

I digress.

You could replace NEED with WANT, if you will. Same same in this case, imo. Seeing how hard they fought to find their way to this exact point.

The first, the only idols to ever do this!!

Bottom line:

To me, using the term NEED in this context is not about them not being able to make it otherwise, but more about a choice made to have that person they feel closest to, the person that has since forever been their emotional anchor, the person that lifted them up when they fell, the person that stood by them, cared for them, supported them when they were struggling. The person that KNEW them to the core and would be there by their side to get through this together with.

Each other.

[troublesomesnitch]

The Devil You Know

Aemond x Septa!Reader - Pt. 2

Little follow-up to this, but hopefully works OK on its own! There might be a third and final part also.

Contents: Book!Aemond, filth and depravity. Coercion, manipulation, power imbalance, dubious consent, medieval fuckboy Aemond. Just the tip...

Words: 3200

Full disclosure - possibly a bit unpolished because I wanted to get it done before S2.

-

You left the grand sept just days after your investiture. 

At noon on the first day of the new month, a royal courier came to fetch you, loading your meagre belongings onto a cart to bring both that and yourself to the castle. To your new home and abode: a chamber with one bed, one table and one little chair, one sconce and one seven-pointed star on the wall. Naturally in the servant’s quarters, but on the highest floor, along with the ladies’ maids, far away from the damp cellars and busy kitchens.

The queen’s household is large, and you are somewhere in the middle of the hierarchy; expected to follow orders, but able to give them, too. You are a septa now, a woman grown, and for the first time in all of your life you have no Mother Superior to answer to, no Septon Alester, and no other girls sharing your bedchamber - which is both a blessing and a curse. It is nice and quiet to be by yourself, free of prying eyes and Sister Sybella’s snoring. But no one pays notice when you slip out at night, and if you run into a maid or steward, they naturally assume that you are headed towards Her Grace or Princess Helaena’s chambers. 

Luckily, Prince Aemond’s rooms are in roughly the same direction. 

When others are near, he is perfectly honourable. Really, his performance is quite impressive. Not too eager, not too distant, perfectly measured when he greets you in the halls, or sits with his mother in her solar. But at night, at night he is different. When the hour grows late and the royal family say their goodnights, he will find a chance to strike, to brush past you and squeeze your wrist, or run his fingers over the small of your back to let you know that he wishes to see you. That he wants you to come to him tonight. 

To his chamber, to his bed, to his arms. 

It is a humiliating plight, and you climb the steps of Maegor’s Holdfast with all the enthusiasm of a convict walking to the scaffold. Weighed down by the guilt of your actions, terrified that someone should know. And resentful, of the prince for making you dishonour your vows, and of the gods for cursing you with beauty - had they made you ugly, Prince Aemond would never have spared you a glance, and you would not be in this predicament. You would not be forced to indulge his lusts and endure the liberties he takes with your body. 

But most of all, worst of all, you feel ashamed. Of all the things you do together, and of the fact that you cannot deny it does sometimes bring you pleasure, too. 

You have permitted him to kiss your mouth, your throat, your chest. Wrapped your hands  around his member and stroked it while he fondled your breasts. Let him lie on top of you and rut against you, still fully clothed, pressing hard between your legs until both of you were sweaty and panting. And once, only once, you let him slip his hand up under your skirts and touch you there, and it felt more wonderful than anything else you have ever experienced. So wonderful that you have not allowed him to do it again, for fear that it should corrupt your soul and spirit. That you will always crave it, the warm press of his fingers, and the way your body suddenly shook and tightened with a pleasure so exquisite you could not help but cry out in ecstasy. 

But he has never had you. Never put any part of himself inside you, never even seen your naked body. It is the strangest thing - there are surely many ladies who would give themselves to him, wholly and fully, yet for some reason, he wants only you.

And he does not waste time with any sort of pleasantries. The joys of night are short, and he can only keep you for so long - you must be back in time to rest, and at the very least before the scullions and kitchen maids rise. You have hardly latched the door before he wraps you in his longing arms, laying you on his bed and parting your legs. The sheets are soft against your back, and his leathers are smooth and cool, and you do not protest when he lays on top of you. You have grown used to the feel of his chest against yours, the heaviness of him, and the hard and lean lines of his body, so different from your own. You have grown used to his kisses too. You like it when he pecks gently at your lips, and when he slides his tongue into your mouth and curls it around your own. When he strokes your body in all sorts of ways, to see what darling little noises he can coax from you this time. 

“Have you ever been touched like this before?” he breathes - a silly question, since he knows the answer well enough already. 

“No,” you whisper. “Never.”

“Say it again,” he commands, closing his eye and breathing in deeply, pressing his nose to your sweet-smelling hair. 

“No other man has ever touched me - only you.” 

It arouses him very much, hearing those words, and he groans softly when he takes your hand and guides it down between your bodies. Knowing what he wants you to do, you hike your skirts up, just enough to run your own fingers along the folds of your womanhood and hold them up for him to taste. Which he does with the most fervent passion, sighing as he licks them clean of any trace of you. He has asked many times to be allowed to taste your sweetness from its source, but you have staunchly refused, appalled at the mere suggestion. He should not press his mouth to such a dirty place. He should not lick something that serves only the body’s most revolting and shameful functions. 

Usually, once he has kissed you like this for a while, and pressed and rubbed against you, he will either reach his end from that alone, or he will make you pleasure him with your hands. But not tonight. 

“Let me feel you,” he pants. “Just this once let me put it inside - ”

“It is a sin,” you gasp, mortified, but nonetheless shivering when he pulls at your sleeve, exposing your shoulder to cover it with kisses. 

“As is this,” he whispers. “And this, and this - ”

His mouth is lovely and warm on your skin, and his teeth are gentle when they scrape along your throat, nibbling softly above your neckline, and biting down hard below it. Making your breathing uneven as you struggle to string your words together. 

“But it is different - you know that it is, please don’t make me do it…”

The prince lifts his head to look at you, propped up on his elbow. 

“It is the movements that are the most sinful part of the act - is it not?” he says, cupping your face and stroking your cheek in the tenderest of ways. When you nod, he adds, “and if I were to not perform them, would that not be a lesser sin?”

His tone is innocent enough, but you know that wicked look in his eyes, the self-assured draw of his mouth. He knows that he is right - it is the movements, not the insertion itself that makes the act of coupling so sinful. And if he showed restraint and did not move in any such manner, then you suppose it would be a lesser sin. Although they did not mention such possible circumventions in your training, naturally. And there are other issues, still. 

“But my maidenhead…” you mutter, looking bashfully to the side when the prince touches his nose to yours. 

“I will be gentle,” he breathes. “I will be so very gentle - my angel, my love - let me at least have you this way… ”

It never really is your choice to make. To be alone with the prince is to balance on a precarious ledge - you can deny him some things, but only so long as you can offer something else that might appease him. And though he never makes overt threats, you are painfully aware that displeasing him could have dire consequences. That he could hurt you in a multitude of ways if he so wished. 

You squirm under his gaze, riddled with so many conflicting emotions; fearful of his intentions, yet blushing at the terms of endearment. Who would not want to hear such lovely words from a prince?

“Just this once,” he whispers, his voice soft and amorous. Just this once…

All you give him is the faintest nod, a slight incline of your head, and his hands are already pushing at your skirts, bunching them up over your parted knees. His breath hitches at the sight of your womanhood, your most intimate parts that you have never bared to him before; wet and inviting, framed by soft curls. Lovelier than he had ever even imagined, that rosy colour of your innermost lips, that little pearl you will not let him touch. And most of all your maidenhead, the delicate tissue that partially covers your entrance, and that he will earnestly try not to damage beyond what is necessary. 

For reasons he could not say, you have quite enchanted him. So much so that he has lavished more patience and tenderness on you than ever before on a woman, and that despite seeing so little return on the investment. For weeks he has contented himself with just your hand and your reluctant kisses, the mere feel of your body beneath him. Many times, he could have taken you by force, and many times he wanted to, yet somehow he could not bring himself to do it, could not bear the thought that you should hate him for it. That your delicate limbs should be hurt in trying to fight him off. 

He has waited long for this, and he does not want to give you time to change your mind, so he only quickly shrugs off his doublet and unbuttons his breeches to free his manhood. Which is painfully hard and in dire need of relief.

It still looks so strange to you, that unholy appendage, with its swollen shaft and its fat, fleshy head. Like the poisonous mushrooms that grow in the Kingswood, though you always keep that thought to yourself - you doubt the prince would appreciate such a childish comparison. He strokes it slowly while his other hand disappears between your legs, brushing over your womanhood and spreading your folds to reveal your little opening. Untried, uncharted by anything or anyone. 

You grit your teeth when the tips of his fingers are replaced by - something else. 

Slowly, steadily, he begins to ease himself inside of you, and you feel your muscles instantly and unwittingly tensing up, startled at the sensation. At the pressure, and at the sound the prince makes when the tip of his member is enveloped by your body, the tight rim of your entrance squeezing its sensitive head. The rest of him will not fit, but he spits into his palm and strokes it along his shaft, and that makes things glide a little better, as do your slow, deliberate breaths. 

It hurts, it really does, only not in the way you expected. You do not so much feel like anything is being torn or ripped - rather, you feel stretched, forcibly split apart and opened far beyond what should be possible. Your insides burn from it, and you wince with pain when he adjusts his position, spreading your thighs wider and driving his hips forward. Pressing in until he is fully seated. 

And he moans from how perfect you feel around him. So soft, so tight. His seeing eye closes and his breathing is hoarse, strained from how badly he needs to move, needs to thrust; his arms trembling by the sides of your head as he struggles to hold himself still. It is a bizarre thing to do, you think, just laying together like this, one on top of the other, completely motionless. Your legs raised over his hips, his chin resting against your forehead. His manhood swelling within you, throbbing with need. You can only hope it means that he will finish quickly and release you from this chore, from the searing pain that scorches your core, and the feeling of being so trapped, so tethered. Much like one of the many-legged creatures on Princess Helaena’s wall; splayed out and nailed down, held in place by a foreign object piercing your body. 

But the prince likes it. You have never heard such heavy sighs from him as just now, never seen such utter bliss on his face. His forehead is damp with sweat, his brows drawn together, his upper lip subtly twitching. One of his hands trails up the back of your naked thigh, lifting your leg to curl it around his back, and he moans from that too, as the slight shift gives him a brief feeling of movement. It is not at all comfortable for you, but you are distracted when he seeks your lips, claiming your mouth with slow, deep kisses. His tongue rolls over yours, pulling back to lick along your lip before plunging into your mouth again, over and over, in a strangely repetitive way. A rhythmic way. As if he is making love to your mouth, since he cannot make love to your body. 

It feels lovely, so lovely that it makes your insides twitch. Which in turn makes the prince curse, and a violent shudder run through his body. 

“Do it again,” he moans, and like always you do your best to please him. Clenching your muscles, squeezing tight around him, then releasing again. Very slowly, and each time feeling his breathy gasp against your face, and the thrum of a heartbeat inside of you - whether his or yours, you cannot say. It is painful with your already sore muscles, and it must be a poor excuse for what it is supposed to mimic, but it is still better than nothing, judging by how the prince moans. How he bites his lip and furrows his brow as your insides twitch and contract, so tight and slick and warm. 

How strange to think that now you have become one. Now you are as close as two people can ever be. Closer still when the prince slithers his arm underneath your body, pressing you hard against him and cradling your head. Your fingers are clenched in the damp material of his shirt, and he unfurls them gently to wrap your arms around his neck, around his shoulders; wanting you to hold him, to embrace him as a woman should her lover. 

It makes your discomfort somewhat more bearable, having something to cling and anchor yourself to. The closeness, and the intimacy of it, how his face is right above yours, your noses touching and breaths mingling. He drags his mouth against your own, from side to side, his lips brushing over yours, then over the rest of your face; your chin, your cheekbones, your temples. So, so gently, and like often before, you are stunned that he can be both so cruel and so tender with you. So selfish, and so soft. 

He has had countless chances to force himself on you, yet he never did. Even now he is keeping his promise, holding back, fighting hard to not succumb to that most powerful and natural instinct of a man, this urge to thrust, to copulate. You can feel that he is shivering with the force of his need, gritting his teeth, unable to keep completely still - there is a gentle, almost imperceptible swaying of his body that he cannot help, an impossibly slow rocking with each of his ragged breaths. 

He really is beautiful, you think, with his striking eyes and thick, silvery hair; pink lips parted in a breathy sigh. You could not say what possessed you to be so bold, but you find yourself reaching up to place a wet, lingering kiss underneath his jaw, right on top of the constellation of freckles that adorns his neck, swiping your tongue across it and tasting the sweat of his skin. To an almost immediate effect - at the feeling of your timid caresses, the prince curses loudly, clenching his fingers in the sheets, arching his back - 

“No!” you exclaim, “not inside me, not inside - ”

But it is too late; he has already shuddered once, and his manhood is already pulsing and spurting when he manages to withdraw from you. So stiff that it flops up against his stomach, a grotesque thing to look upon, the way it just hangs there, squirting out semen as he groans and gasps. At the very end of his rapture he grasps it with one hand, stroking it hard all the way from the base to the tip, as though wanting to squeeze out every last bit of fluid. And once he is spent, he rolls off of you and onto his back, completely unceremoniously. Leaving you raw and hurting inside, and with the sticky feeling of his semen trickling out between your thighs. 

“If it catches,” you whisper, afraid to even speak the words. “If I should be with child…”

The prince runs a hand over his face, panting and still too lightheaded to be thinking clearly, because he stupidly tells you that needn’t worry, he will have a tea brought to you -

“No! please no,” you shriek, panicked. “They would know I broke my vows - ”

“Then I will bring it myself,” he snaps, but rather than reassure you, his harsh tone only makes you tear up.

At the sigh of your quivering mouth, his face softens, and he reaches out to pull you into his arms, hold you against his chest, stroke your hair and rock you gently. Say forgive me, forgive me, I quite forgot myself, you mustn’t cry, my love -

“Why must you torment me,” you sob. “Sooner or later someone will know, they will shame me and ruin me - “

“They wouldn’t dare,” he says. “I would not let them - I will cut off any hand that hurts you - “

You press your ear to his chest to drown out the sound of his voice, for he has said these same words many times before, and with the same fervour and poignancy. He adores you, he reveres you, he will cut off any hand that hurts you, any eye that ogles you, any tongue that slanders your name. 

You haven’t the courage to tell him - the only hand that hurts you is his own. 

Please feel free to come into my asks or DMs with critique of my fics! Constructive is preferred, but not required.

Tags. @ladythornofrivia, @blackswxnn, @hightpwer, @toodlesxcuddles, @arcielee

@targaryen-madness, @qyburnsghost

And thank you @aemondsbabygirl for being a great one-woman focus group!

[berryz-writes]

Perfectly serious

Summary: Matheo's jealousy and want for you increases after seeing you with Theo to the point where he finally/kind of confesses

Matheo Riddle x reader

His arm wrapped around my waist, bringing me even closer to him. "Come on, let's get you to bed" Theo murmured. I looked up at him confused "I'm not drunk". My head might feel light and I might feel extremely happy and sad at the same time but I was most definitely not drunk.

"Yes you are" He took my hand and led me away from the groups of people dancing together, taking his time to weave us in and around the drinks being passed around. Everyone gave me a smile as I left, Pansy giving me a wink as we passed "I bet he fucks good. Have fun babe!" She said, her words slurring slightly, her voice loud enough for Theo to hear. Maybe if he heard it he would act on it. I wouldn't mind getting in bed with him.

We soon reached my room, the music faded to a low sound coming from below us and the lights softer than the harsh party lights of before.

"Well...night y/n" Theo said.

"You know" I started, my voice low and sultry. "I wouldn't mind if you joined me, made things more interesting. Hm?" I tilted my head waiting for his answer, his eyes searching my face. For what I didn't know.

He gave me a soft smile "Your drunk. And when drunk, your ideas aren't really your own. So as much as I'd like to follow through with your idea, it's best you get some sleep"

I rolled my eyes at him being who he always was. I wished for once he would push the boundaries. "Fine. Night Theo"

"Sweet dreams" He dropped my hand and waited for me to close the door. I could hear his receding footsteps, probably to go up to his own dorm. I was relieved in a way. Maybe I wasn't actually ready to fuck him and it was just the alcohol making me want something more. We were good friends. I didn't want to ruin that for something that I didn't really want. Chocolate brown eyes crossed my mind. Curly hair that would feel so nice running my hands through-. Something that would never happen.

*Potions the next day*

"I didn't see you yesterday" I said to Matheo referring to the party yesterday. Stirring in the crushed up leaves into the steaming potion, I turned to look at him, his eyes were icy and cold as if I had done some personal wrong against him.

"Of course you didn't. You were too busy trying to estimate your chances with Theo. Heads up, princess. He has higher standards"

I ignored the nickname that would usually make me swoon and instead my mouth opened in shock. How fucking rude of him. Was he ok?

"Are you being serious right now?" I stopped stirring the potion and crossed my arms. I could take a joke but come on. He had taken it too far.

"Perfectly serious. Why? Did you think I was nice?" He stood up to tower over me, his minty scent washing over me. His chocolate brown eyes were like daggers into my soul. It hurt knowing someone I was good friends with could switch up so fast.

"No actually, I didn't. Your just like everyone says you are. You get with a girl for your own pleasure, lead her on and then leave her with a broken heart. Your a rude fucking asshole and nothing more"

His jaw clenched at what I said, waiting for me to say anything else. I didn't actually mean it but I would never let anyone disrespect me and not expect anything back.

I realised soon how close we were. If only he were to move slightly closer, I could have tipped my head upwards and kissed him. The fact that I was thinking about that even though he had insulted me was annoying for me. I shouldn't still like him. Not anymore.

"You really mean that?" His voice came out soft, his jaw no longer clenched. As if he understood what I had said. I hesitated. Of course I didn't. How could I? I liked him for fucks sake.

I sighed "I don't know"

He sat back down as if he were tired of our argument. As if he didn't want to argue with me.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said-"

"Let's just forget about it. Ok?" I didn't want to argue either. Maybe he was angry and took it out on me. Fine. I would give him a pass just this once seen as though we were such good friends. (If only we were more than that)

He nodded his head and we worked in silence for the next few minutes. Until he cleared his throat and looked toward me again "Listen y/n. I don't want us to ruin our...friendship for something I've said so let me treat you. Will you be free to come to the diner at eight?"

I paused and raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly "Are you asking me on a date or just as friends?" Confident of me to ask but I wanted to know where we stood.

After a pause he replied with "I'd be happy with either, as long as it's with you"

I thought about my next question "And if I want it to be a date?" I asked quietly.

He smiled "I was hoping you'd say that, princess"

[hanniedream]

holding hands with joshua hong.

a/n: idk how i feel about this tbh, i just wanted to get rid of my brainrot. might delete later.

"stop," you push joshua's large hand that covers yours on the shopping cart handle away, "we might hit someone with the cart."

joshua's lower lip juts out in a pout, "i just want to hold your hand."

you continue moving down the condiments aisle with the half filled cart, ignoring him as he runs after you.

"babe," he whines when he finally catches up to you, a hand grabbing onto your elbow, "if people can hold hands while driving why can't i hold your hand while you push a shopping cart?"

turning into the next aisle, you give his hand that's resting on your arm a light pat before removing it from you. "you can hold my hand once we're done shopping okay?"

you hear him let out a sigh as you scan the shelves of ramen before you.

"babe, which one did you want to get?"

silence.

confused, you turn to your side to look at him and you almost burst out laughing when you find him sulking and poking at the various ramen packets in front of him.

"babe," you tap his shoulder lightly and fail to hold back your laughter this time when he shrugs you off with a noise of annoyance.

he crosses his arms across his chest and moves to the next shelf, away from you.

"don't be upset at me," you trail after him and wrap your arms around him from behind.

a little smile starts to form on joshua's lips and he tries to hide it but you catch it when you rest your chin on his shoulder to look at his face.

"are you actually upset?" you tighten your arms and sway him slightly.

he doesn't answer so you release one arm to hold out your hand in front of him. "here, you can hold my hand while we shop."

you let go of your other arm to move away from him when he doesn't take it.

"i guess you're so upset with me that you don't want to hold hands anymore."

he suddenly spins around, "no wait! i want to."

he quickly grabs your hand tightly then reaches for the cart with his free hand.

"i'll show you that i can push the cart while holding hands without hitting anyone so you have no excuses not to do it when we shop for groceries next time." he places your hand on the handle before putting his own over yours.

just as he says that, he bumps into the corner of a shelf as he attempts to move out of the aisle and you're about to pull your hand out from under his but he stops you.

"that doesn't count! i didn't hit a person!"

[signanothername]

Heyo! I love your art so much, as well as your mean girl Nightmare(I've halfway been imagining him with a *little* Regina George every time I've read that on this blog, no apologies for it) I was wondering, how do you think he'd react if Dream, Killer, just somebody who knew of his past just says; "You're just like them. The villagers.". Or ANY variation of that? Just the thought of him being the same as his past abusers, tormenting someone he dislikes, for what, because what have they truly done to deserve it? The idea of becoming the same of those who have hurt him, how would he react to that? I feel like if Dream said it, it would be more of an acceptance of how different his brother is, and how he'll never get his Nightmare that he knew and loved back, because his brother would never do this. Killer might say it to be a lil shit and torment him.

Just a thought I had! Hope you're having an fantastic day!

Hello!!! Thank you so much!! <33333 and good good don’t apologize cause it’s completely accurate to think of Regina George and I’m actually guilty of thinking the same thing like honestly fits shhshs

Here’s the Regina George Nightmare we all need

Now back to the main point shdhhd

Y’know funny thing is I can imagine his reaction would definitely differ depending on who says it, if it’s someone like Killer or anyone else other than Dream, I can imagine him feeling slightly offended/angry by it, but it wouldn’t have much of an impact, cause what does Killer truly know? Killer never saw/ known those villagers, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, at least that’s the mindset Nightmare would have, he’d just threaten Killer to zip it or simply throw him across the room

I can’t truly imagine Dream saying such a thing to Nightmare but I can definitely see the opposite with Nightmare saying it to Dream (which cough i already drew before >:) ) but we’re talking hypothetically so let’s talk about how he’d feel if Dream said it cause god, I wholeheartedly believe if Dream said it then hell would break loose

Cause the thing is, Dream was there, he knew those villagers, he knew how they were like and he knew how bad they were, Dream lived those days with him, but even then, while Dream endured a different kind of abuse, the villagers actually loved Dream, and they hated Nightmare, so how could Dream, who never had a single villager lay a finger on him, how could his twin of all people to say to him that he’s like his abusers??? Nightmare would go through the five stages of grief in 5 seconds

He’d be in so much denial, only to settle on pure unfiltered rage, cause how dare Dream, his twin, his blood and magic, tell him that he’s like them?

I can see Nightmare making excuses for his own actions, that he’s only doing all this to make them pay, he’d even say something along the lines of “so what if i am like them??” To convince himself that the idea of being like them doesn’t bother him (all while it fucking eats away at him) I can see Nightmare making excuses for why Dream would think such a thing, “you’re just drained of your magic, you’re confused”

I can see him go after Dream all the more aggressively, intent to kill cause how fucking dare he??

But then I can see the rage and fight leave Nightmare to finally settle on depression and resignation, all while part of him is still (and will forever be) in absolute denial

He knows he’s not like them, he never was and never will be

But why would he be an absolute mess by Dream saying it? Cause I wholeheartedly believe Nightmare would never expect Dream to compare him to the villagers, cause when your own twin says it it just cuts the much much much deeper

Hell I can even see Nightmare actually crying tears of frustration, maybe not in front of Dream cause Nightmare had become so used to isolating himself and keeping his emotions inside, and with his mindset of never wanting to appear weak he’d only let those tears out once he is sure he’s all alone

Because by god, he never thought it’d hurt so much to hear those words uttered by his brother, but they did hurt, and he’ll hurt Dream all the much worse for it

(Same to you!! Hope you’re haveing a wonderful day/night <333)

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Living Dead

Summary: Before meeting the Emperor, Mortarion meets a girl who might love him. At least that's what he thinks.

Mortarion/fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Dark romance, gore/rot (a little bit), obssession, yandere.

Guys, it's all your fault. I wasn't a Mortarion fan before your fics.

Every day Barbarus defended their freedom. People were no longer afraid. They fought for lives against rotten tyrants. And every day Mortarion was getting closer to his goal. He led all these people with him. But he never felt at home. Didn't find a family. But at least he was “among his own”, and not locked with monsters in a poisonous stronghold.

The poison was a weapon, but also a reminder of the monsters' strenght. He used his power, but he hated it. His whole appearance resembled death. No wonder people avoided him even if he is a reason why they finally fight back. And then he met you.

You lived in one of the distant villages, which was often attacked by tyrants. On one of these days, your spouse was taken away for a play. And although he was able to escape, as Сalas Typhon had once done, he was unable to cope with the top layer of Barbarus. His skin was healing, he smelled of death, and poison oozed from open, rotten wounds. Living Dead.

But you continued to live with him. You accepted him as such a disgusting thing. You loved him.

Mortarion still could not understand how this was possible. He saw how hard it was for you, how often you hid from his eyes to cry out all the tears. How do you stop yourself from gagging at the smell? But you were still with him. You could, no, should have, renounced him. Continue to live and move on.

Nobody understood you. All the villagers said you were crazy. Mortarion's warriors pitied you, but thought you were too naive. As for Сalas, he looked after you for a long time. He said that you remind him of someone and that you're a good girl.

It's true, you were kind. Even too much. And Mortarion himself did not understand how he felt envy of the living corpse. "Father" did not love Mortarion, he did not care about him. His warriors may have respected him, but they were never equals.

And one day he began to wonder more and more often… will you also stroke his hair… hug him tenderly… wash his wounds and help him bathe… will you smile at him as if he is the most beautiful person you have ever seen. Will you kiss him like you kissed your husband?

Such strange thoughts. Insignificant, unimportant, vulgar. Completely out of character for him. Why is it important for him to know what you think about him? What could you do with him? Does he really need to feel affection that badly? To feel not just needed, but loved. He leads thousands of lives. But why does his heart beat so hard when he sees your gaze?

Alas, you are not a witch. The problem is not you. There's something wrong with him. You don't even belong to him. And all your attention is focused on your dying husband. But he won’t even be able to protect you when the lords come to your village. But Mortarion can. He is your true savior.

But everything goes away sooner or later. All the villagers only breathed a sigh of relief when your husband left this world. But not you. You're desperate. You're broken. All alone. There is no one else to give your goods to.

Mortarion himself didn’t notice how he put his hand on your shoulder. And he is so ashamed but so happy to see your haunted tearful gaze. You looked at your husband in the same way before enveloped him in your love.

- No need for tears. I'll take care of you.

He will.

[eastwindmlk]

I wish you would write a fic where Jily joins the Jily Microfic Discord!

James sat hunched over the piece of muggle technology that Harry had gifted them for the holidays. He was squinting at the electronic letter from an unknown address. “Lils, darling? Do you know what a ‘discord’ is?” he shouted over his shoulder to his wife just outside the open doors, tending to her herb garden. 

Her face appeared, dark streaks littering her features and another one being smeared across her forehead as she swiped her hair away from it. “Discord?” she repeated, confusion evident in her voice. 

“Someone invited us to join one. It has a picture of a friendly…” His sentence trailed off as he made a motion, thumbs gyrating and fingers wriggling. “From one of those home arcade machines.”

Emerald eyes narrowed for a moment, another smudge of dirt adoring her jaw as Lily deciphered what he meant. “Joystick?” she questioned, uncertain of her own words. A smile crept onto his face, but before he could say anything even remotely lewd his wife cut him off. “Don’t you dare, Potter! We are solving this discord mystery before you get any funny ideas!” 

James huffed, blowing an errant lock of hair from his forehead and adjusting his glasses. “Should we call one of the kids? Or would take make us terribly cliché grandparents?” he prompted, nodding to himself as he leaned back over the box and traced his finger along the square to move his pointer. 

“What are you doing?” Lily got up, stretching her back as she leaned on the windowsill, watching him full of curiosity. 

His eyes flicked to her, a grin stretching over his features. “I am accepting the invite, of course. It would be terribly rude. I can always click it away if it is one of those fish letters Henry talked about.” Aware that their oldest grandson would be very disappointed in them if they’d fallen for something he had warned them about time and time again. 

“Oh, there are rules!” James muttered to himself, skimming over them as he already motioned to accept them, only to be stopped by his wife. 

“Did you read them?” 

“Yes.” 

“Really?” 

He paused and let his shoulders sag as he admitted. “More skimmed them, but I am sure they are fine!” Ignoring the look of disapproval that blew in from the window, he pressed the green square and watched a whole new list of names appear on the side of his little box. 

“They are asking for our house! There are so many Gryffindors here!” He exclaimed, delighted. “Maybe this is for alum, and we can finally see what people are up to without having to rely on the papers,” he said with a grin and went through, clicking the pictures he thought applied to them. 

Pausing for a moment, pushing his glasses back up his nose as he curiously read the next item on the reading list that had appeared. Falling silent, eyebrows furrowing as he slowly started to click through the list. 

“I don’t think I am supposed to be here,” he mused, looking up at Lily for a moment before letting his eyes fall back on the words on the box. 

“What makes you say that, dear?” Lily asked, leaving her gloves on the sill as she made her way inside, casting a quick scourgify before sitting down next to him, her reading spectacles being slid out of her hair in an effort to read with him. 

“These are all…” 

“-Stories, yes.” 

“About us?” 

James nodded slowly, not sure if he should feel worried about this. “Us, the lads, Harry, your friends. Just endless stories,” he replied, his voice growing faint with confusion. 

“I think you might be right, this is not for us,” Lily agreed, though her eyes were still moving over the words. Her finger reached out to one of the items on the list. “Can you click that?” 

At her request, James clicked the label that said art when Lily pointed it out and clicked one of the grey squares. Something he should not have done. Jolting, he reached out and smacked the lid back on the box, almost trapping his wife’s fingers between. 

“I think that was enough of that!” He practically squeaked, taking off his glasses and frantically polishing them on his pocket-handkerchief. “Maybe not ask the grandkids to look at it, after all.” 

Rubbing her knuckle where the lid had caught her, Lily gave him a disappointed look and levelled him with a look. “I didn’t see, so I can’t tell,” she admonished, reaching out to reopen the box stubbornly ignoring his warning hand on the lid. 

“James, let me see!” She demanded, and all he could do was shake his head at her. “Fine, then you describe it to me.” Her arms crossed over her chest while she raised an expectant eyebrow at him. 

James licked his lips, wondering how on earth he was going to describe the image that was burned into his eyelids now. Taking a moment, then another, before a sly smile slipped across his features. “How about I show you instead?” 

[brehaaorgana]

Sorry my reply will probably just be too long for a comment lol @itspeepytime

Basically I think like — yes, I agree basic art classes should teach the love of creation and the practice of just creating and such.

However, I would not frame something like "teaching the basic science of art mediums and pigments, or color theory" to be "rules" per se. Fundamentals of the skill, yes. Rules? No. These are tools. If you know your tools, you can use them to do all kinds of conventional and unconventional things, but you also know what is not physically possible.

Example:

I will never get green if I mix magenta and cyan. That's not a creativity-limiting rule, that's just a fundamental fact of color mixing. A limiting rule is "leaves should be painted green."

That's a limiting rule. It's a limit on how to paint leaves. How to approach something.

But "magenta and cyan don't make green," is a fundamental. They make purple. You can't change that fact.

You can, however, paint leaves using purple, dark blue, or red.

We admire Monet and the impressionists for their use of light and color, which may have gone against conventions of the time — but they all deeply cared about the fundamental science of light and color. And they were studying it and using fundamentals.

It's great to teach intro students how to enjoy making art, but it's not limiting to help them understand the tools they have at their disposal in orded to make art. "PB15 is a transparent pigment called phthalo blue" isn't a stifling rule, it's a fact. Likewise if I tell you the mass tone of pb15 is incredibly dark, meaning you reach maximum chroma with some dilution/mixing (regardless of the medium), that doesn't stifle creative choices, it just explains what the tool you're using does.

So I'm never surprised by how phthalo blue is going to mix in any given color mixing experiment because I know the mass tone is darker than the maximum chroma I can reach, and I know it's a transparent pigment so it will mix and layer differently from an opaque pigment.

It's like - when I was a TA for an intro art history course, I had some stem students who were taking the class for a gen ed, and they panicked at first because we didn't really spend any time teaching art fundamentals the textbook briefly introduces. So they had no foundation for what they were trying to do or the tools we had for talking about art history. They came to my office hours and I was like "okay let's back up. Before you try to figure out like, meaning of a painting or history, let's just figure out how composition works and how I know what it is, because that's a good building block."

And then I brought print outs of various paintings and starting drawing over them to show them how composition worked and what I was identifying, before having them try it too. Like foreground, mid ground, background. That's a fundamental. Triangular compositions. Rule of thirds. Stuff that helped them see how creativity works with tools, and isn't just all abstract feelings and pure whimsical talent or something. And then I said "great so now you know how we figure this part out, so what's the focus of the painting? What is the artist focusing on? Is there somewhere the composition is emphasizing, or downplaying? And why might that be done?"

Suddenly it was less terrifying to learn art history for them, because it had structures and a logic and tools you could learn, rather than being about innate creativity or artistry.

I had to give them a fundamental building block.

I can tell anyone "draw a person standing under a tree," but if they're like "well all I can do is this-"

There are tools I can give them to understand how someone achieves something else! I feel like an overemphasis on "there all no rules, and I just want you to enjoy it" can be just as much of a problem as an overemphasis on too many strict conventions! Especially since so many people (non-art majors) are intimidated by the idea that they "can't" do great art because they simply don't have the "talent" needed when they just "do" it. They get frustrated and don't understand why they can't see improvement.

An extreme either way is bad, but I think lately it's swung sooo far in favor of "art has no rules, so fundamentals are limiting." that it's kinda bad, because even the art majors aren't learning some basic things.

[khaleesiofalicante]

A Blessing - LDV Ficlet

Contrary to his brother’s belief, Rafael does not have a stick up his ass. 

Does he have standards? Yes. Does he have a system? Absolutely. 

Does he have crippling anxiety that whispers in his ear that he must do everything according to his system to meet his standards? You bet your ass, he does. 

But he doesn’t have a stick in his ass, thank you very much. 

That would make it very difficult to do some of the things he does, such as sitting on the carpeted floor of his father’s office and read through and review a dozen different campaign strategies before midnight. 

Dad didn’t ask him to do it. Dad certainly didn’t ask him to do it before midnight. 

But Rafael’s system did, and his standards insisted. 

He has to listen. Not abiding by his system and compromising his standards would be a colossal mistake. A mistake that will result in everything around him crumbling down. 

People might even die. Who knows?

“Rafael?”

Rafael looks up at the voice and smiles. “Hey, Maia.”

Maia is dad’s campaign advisor. If things go as planned and they make it into the White House – the very thought of which sends a shiver down his spine – Maia might even lead the White House Communications Office. 

Dad met Maia in college. Rafael knows the whole story. 

He first thought that it was a bad idea to employ your friends. But dad always says that its greatest strength – surrounding yourself with people you love and trust. 

Maybe Rafael finds it complicated because he doesn’t have many friends. He is not very good at making them or retaining them. But it’s fine. 

He has a system. He has standards. His system says that to achieve his standards, he should have at least three good friends by the time he turns 30. 

He is still 21, so he should be fine. 

“It’s late,” Maia points out, as if he doesn’t know. He didn’t know actually. But it’s fine. “Did you eat?”

Rafael points at the half-eaten box of takeout on the floor. “Is dad done with the meeting?”

“Not yet,” Maia replies. “But he asked to check if you want to go home. It looks like it’s going to storm tonight too.”

“I’m not done with these yet,” Rafael points at the files scattered around him. 

“You can come back here and do them tomorrow-”

Rafael shakes his head immediately. “I have to finish today. Before midnight.”

Maia eyes the documents with uncertainty, as if it’s not a realistic goal. Then she nods and walks away. 

Wow. That was easy. 

He really thought she might put up a fight about it. 

But the thing is, Maia is super smart. She’d never do something if she knows there is someone out there who can do it better and quicker. 

“Rafael.”

Ah shit. Of course she called in big guns. 

“What’s up?” Rafael asks casually. 

“I’m taking Max home and you’re coming with me,” Bapak informs, and it doesn’t sound like Rafael has a choice.

Rafael turns around and looks at his brother who has been passed out on the couch for the last two hours. Poor thing must be exhausted after all that training. 

Max has his own system – about what he eats and when he sleeps and how he exercises. If Rafael listens to his brain, Max listens to his body. 

Rafael will never understand how someone as impulsive and reckless his brother could practice such discipline. He wishes his brother would apply that commitment to something a little less intense – something that doesn’t require him to wake up at four in the morning and sacrifice chocolate. 

“I’m not done, bapak,” Rafael points at the campaign files. “I need to read all of them and then organize them for Maia.”

“You know the election is next year, not next month?”

“That’s only twelve months. Not enough time!”

“When I said you should take a break after college, I didn’t mean camping out in your father’s office,” Bapak shakes his head.

“Dad needs all the help he can get,” Rafael says a little seriously. “Also, if all of us leave now, he’ll probably feel like we abandoned him.”

“I will not fall for your manipulation,” Bapak huffs and then frowns a little. “But I suppose I could send Max home with Elyaas, then stay here and help you.”

“No, I have a system!” Rafael all but wails. “I have to do it my way. It’s the most efficient way.”

Bapak sighs at that. “Darling, you’re not going to finish all of this on your own.”

“I can if you stop talking to me,” Rafael points out. 

“Alright,” Bapak puts up his hand, always knowing when to concede. “But if you don’t come home with your father, I will lock the front door.”

“No, you won’t,” Rafael replies, not looking up. 

“No, I won’t,” the man sighs at that. “Will you wake your brother up and ask him to meet me in the lobby. I’ll get the car to come around.”

When Rafael pokes his brother in the tummy, Max immediately wakes up and sits up straight – as if he is in the army or something. He frowns at his Apple Watch and then frowns further at Rafael. “You interrupted a really nice dream.”

“Were you dreaming in French?” Rafael makes a face. “You were mumbling.”

“No,” Max huffs and then makes a wistful expression. “Do you know if the prince will attend the Olympics next year?”

“What prince?”

“The Prince of France, Rafael, who else?” Max rolls his eyes. “It’s happening in Paris, remember?”

“Ah,” Rafael replies and then shrugs. “I don’t know. He’ll probably be at the opening ceremony.”

“I see. I see,” Max nods seriously. 

Rafael chuckles at that and shakes his head.  “Bapak is going home. Meet him at the lobby.” 

“You’re not coming?” Max yawns. 

“No.”

“I can stay if you want,” Max offers. 

“No, I’m good,” Rafael replies. “You go home and sleep properly.”

“Okay,” Max yawns again. “I need to go home and take an ice bath anyway. Coach says we need to get used to cold water because Paris is going to be cold as shit in February.”

Rafael truly worries about his brother sometimes. All this training stuff is getting a little out of hand. He should probably mention it to his parents. 

But he needs to stick to his plan for now. One task at a time. 

He immerses self into campaign strategy from the Obama campaign, focusing on grassroots organizing. He has no idea how much time has passed when he hears a knock on the door. 

“I’m almost done,” Rafael lies immediately. 

He has seven more campaign strategies to read up on and its quarter to midnight. He might have slightly miscalculated the amount of time that he needs to read through these files. 

It’s not his fault. Whoever wrote this was extremely thorough so he can’t help but take his time with it, digesting every crucial detail to better understand their own campaign for next year. 

“Yeah, you’re going home,” Dad informs.

“But I’m not done,” Rafael points out. 

“We are closing the office,” Dad counters. 

“Can I take these home?” Rafael gathers up the files to his chest. 

“It’s too sensitive, Rafe, I don’t think so,” Dad replies. 

Rafael chews his lip. “I wanted to finish this today.”

Dad sighs at that as he walks over and crouches next to Rafael on the floor. “The world is not going to fall apart just because you didn’t finish this today.”

But it will. It might. 

Rafael doesn’t know how to explain it to his parents or anyone else. If he can’t finish his tasks for the day, then it will up with his tasks for tomorrow and then it will go on like that until everything turns into a shitshow. 

And the next thing you know dad will lose the election and it will all be Rafael’s fault.

“I just want to help,” Rafael says quietly. 

“I know,” Dad puts a careful hand on his shoulder. “But you’re not helping right now, you’re holding everyone up from going home.”

“Right,” Rafael swallows. “I’ll come home with you.”

His brain is screaming at him to shut up. 

You’re doing it wrong. You’re doing it all wrong. You didn’t finish your task! You’re going to mess everything up!

“Hey,” Dad says gently. “Would it help if I give you a new task to accomplish?”

He knows. Dad always knows. 

“Yes, please,” Rafael replies immediately. 

“Could you drop Anjali home?” Dad asks. “I think she’s going to take a cab, but you know how I feel about those.”

Oh shit. 

Is this what people mean by digging your own grave? Probably. 

But it’s still a task and Rafael is happy to do it just in case it will quieten his brain a little bit. 

“Okay,” Rafael nods and packs his things up. “I can do that.”

“Great,” Dad smiles and turns around. “Ah, Anjali. Good news. Rafael will drop you home.”

Anjali narrows her perfectly manicured eyebrows. “I didn’t ask to be dropped home.”

“Yes, well, it’s late and you know it’s not safe for a young girl to-”

“So, the solution is to be chaperoned by a man?” Anjali asks in amusement. “It’s interesting how the problem and the solution both happen to be men.”

“Anjali, it’s past midnight and I haven’t had enough whiskey for this conversation,” Dad pinches the bridge of his nose. “Now please go home and we can talk about how much the patriarchy sucks tomorrow, okay?”

“I’ll hold you to it, Mr. Lightwood,” Anjali gives a little salute. 

Dad rolls his eyes fondly and gives Rafael a nod before leaving the room with his jacket and keys.

“I just like fucking with him,” Anjali informs to no one in particular. 

“Lucky,” Rafael mumbles under his breath. 

“Sorry?” Anjali frowns. 

“Nothing,” Rafael clears his throat. “We should probably leave before it starts raining.”

“Okay,” Anjali replies as she picks up all the files on the floor. 

“Dad said to not take them home,” Rafael says quickly. “They’re sensitive.”

“I know,” Anjali rolls her eyes. “I wrote them.”

“Oh,” Rafael blinks. “Um. They’re…They’re really well-written. I liked how you had pointed out the key learnings under each strategy and noted the potential risk factors too.”

Anjali gives him a look at that. “Don’t flirt with me.”

“I wasn’t!” Rafael squeaks. 

He was. He totally was. He just didn’t think she’d clock it.

They take the elevator quietly, Anjali carrying half a dozen files in her arms and Rafael trying not to nervously pull at his jacket.

“You scared of elevators or something?” Anjali asks. 

“No,” Rafael swallows. “I just…I don’t wanna get caught in the rain.”

“I can still take a cab.”

“No,” Rafael shakes his head immediately. “I have to drop you home.”

It’s a task. He has to finish it.

“You have to drop me home?” Anjali scoffs. 

“I just meant…I promised my dad I’ll do it,” Rafael tries to explain.

“Your dad is very annoying sometimes,” Anjali informs as the elevator opens. 

“Why do you work for him then?” Rafael asks curiously, voicing the question he’d always wanted to ask her. 

“Because working in the White House will look great on my CV,” Anjali shrugs. “Make it a little easier to make my way into the Supreme Court one day.”

“I just didn’t think you’d want to be a secretary,” Rafael points out. 

Anjali looks over her shoulder. “You think about me, Santiago?”

Rafael flushes at that. “I just meant-”

“Nothing wrong with being a secretary,” Anjali tells him. “Especially if you’re working for someone who knows what they’re doing.”

Rafael smiles at that. “I’m glad to hear that. My dad speaks highly of you too.”

Anjali’s stilettos come to a screeching halt as she whirls around and jabs him with a long, red acrylic nail. “Tell me everything.”

Rafael chuckles at that as he spots his bike and walks over to it. “You should consider your options though. Just in case we don’t make into the White House next year.”

“You don’t think we will?” Anjali frowns. 

“We will if we follow our strategy and do everything exactly as we’ve planned,” Rafael points out. “But, you know, things don’t always have to plan.”

“That’s what losers say,” Anjali scoffs. 

“I just like a good backup plan,” Rafael shrugs. “There are plenty of judges in New York you can work with. Or you can work in the DA’s office.”

“The District Attorney is a cunt,” Anjali says very matter-of-factly. 

Rafael chuckles at that as he takes out his keys. “You know, you’d get along great with my brother.”

Anjali groans at that loudly. “No offense, but that boy gives me a migraine every time I talk to him.”

Rafael chuckles again. “Well, you’re gonna have to put up with him a lot if we make it into the White House next year.”

“When we’re gonna make it into the White House,” Anjali corrects him. “And when we do, you and your doubtful ass owes me a set of new highlighters.”

“Textsurfer Classics or the Zebra Mildliners?” Rafael asks as he climbs onto the bike, chuckling at Anjali’s expression on the mirror. “What? I know my way around stationery.”

Anjali scowls at that before climbing in behind him. "I told you not to flirt with me."

Rain pours down on them just as they make it to the Lower East Side, just a couple of minutes away from the Williamsburg Bridge, close to where Anjali lives. 

“Do you want me to pull over?” Rafael loudly asks over his shoulder. 

“We’re almost there. Let’s just keep going,” Anjali shouts in his ear. “I think it might get worse if we wait.”

Rafael nods and tries to go a little faster. He senses Anjali shift behind him and watches her remove her jacket and drape it over the slides close to her chest. 

“Anjali, you’re going to get sick!”

“I need to protect files!”

“Don’t you soft copies?”

“Don’t be stupid. Of course I do.”

“We’ll just get more printouts.”

“But you already annotated most of this.”

Rafael pauses at that. “It’s fine. I can do it again.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Anjali!”

“Just shut up and get me home.”

By the time they get to her apartment building, they are both drenched, Anjali worse than him. Rafael considers giving her his jacket, but it’s of no use. 

“I told you,” Anjali tells him, teeth chattering a little. “It got worse.”

“Shit,” Rafael sighs, looking at the rain that pours down the street. Bapak will kill him if he tries to ride his bike in this rain. 

“You can stay at mine until it calms down,” Anjali shivers a little and walks over to the elevator.

The elevator ride is quiet and cold. Anjali’s apartment is even quieter and colder.

It’s everything and nothing Rafael expected. 

He’s known her since he was in high school. Dad’s friends with Anjali’s father and they met at a fundraiser and Rafael’s been obsessed with her even since. 

He likes to think he knows her well – mostly by observing her. Because the thought of talking to her terrifies him. What if she thinks he is just another dude trying to hit on her? Even though he is fact just another dude trying to hit on her?

“If you don’t stop that, I’m going to punch your judgy little face,” Anjali glares at him. 

“What?” Rafael coughs. “Your apartment is, uh, lovely.”

“I know it needs cleaning,” Anjali rolls her eyes, putting away four empty cups of chat on her coffee table. 

“I’m not judging. I know you’re super busy,” Rafael says carefully. “Although…You could get a cleaner?”

“Pay someone to clean my house?” Anjali snorts loudly. “My Amma might just disown me.”

Rafael chuckles at that and shrugs. “Well, I don’t mind.”

He does. He minds a lot. But it’s rude to tell someone their house is messy and it’s beyond stupid to say that to the girl of your dreams. 

“I’ve only got one bedroom, so you’re gonna have to take the couch,” Anjali tells him, walking over to the couch and picking up a bunch of things off it. Why is the laundry detergent on the couch? Never mind.

“That’s fine,” Rafael replies. “Can I have the files back?”

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Anjali demands incredulously.

“I can’t sleep in new places anyway,” Rafael shrugs, which is only half a lie. In truth, he can’t sleep when he knows she’s right there, too close and too far at the same time. 

“You need sleep,” Anjali frowns at him. 

“I need the files,” Rafael corrects. 

“Well, you’re not getting them.”

“Anjali.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I was planning to work on it tonight, okay?” She huffs in response. “You don’t get to interrupt my routine.”

“Your 1 AM routine?” Rafael raises an eyebrow. 

“Don’t be a hypocrite,” Anjali rolls her eyes. “Bathrooms on your left. I can give you some clothes to wear if you want. I have some of my dad’s shirt-”

“I don’t mind wearing yours,” Rafael tells her. “I’m sure I can pull it off.”

Anjali rolls her eyes at that before walking off to her bedroom and returning with a pair of grey sweatpants and a plain burgundy t-shirt. “Let’s see if you can pull it off.”

Rafael tries not to scream. “Is it okay if I use the bathroom first?”

“Yeah, I need to clean up here anyway,” Anjali sighs and glares at her own living room. 

Rafael quickly heads to the bathroom and gets changed, trying not to have a panic attack the entire time.

It’s fine. It’s fine. He can handle this. 

Just go out there and be normal. 

Don’t do anything weird. Don’t say anything weird.

Just be normal. Be chill. 

When he walks out of the bathroom – dressed in Anjali’s clothes, ah! – he finds the girl leaning over the now clean coffee table and setting down the files. 

“Do you need help with that?” Rafael asks. “I’m sure we can finish it soon if we do it together.”

See? 

Normal. Chill. Nothing weird. All good. 

“I guess that makes sense, thank you,” Anjali sighs at that. “Give me a minute. I need to get out of these wet clothes first.”

“Do you need help with that?” Rafael asks again before can stop himself. 

Anjali stills at that before slowly turning around to face. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Run. Jump out of the window. Save yourself. 

She walks over to him and cocks her head. “What did I tell you about flirting with me?”

“Uhhh,” Rafael replies eloquently. 

“You and I?” Anjali says slowly, and Rafael can’t help but focus on the water droplets running down her neck. “It won’t work.”

“Why not?” Rafael asks stupidly. 

“Because I will be part of your father’s permanent staff very soon.”

“If he becomes President, you mean.”

“When.”

“If.”

“When.”

“If.”

“Why can’t you be delusional for a minute and believe that he can actually win this thing?” Anjali demands in frustration. 

“Someone has to keep all of you on your toes,” Rafael hears himself reply. “Besides, the only thing I’m delusional about is thinking that you like me as much as I do.”

“Well, that depends,” Anjali hums quietly. “How much do you like me?”

“Enough to fantasize about a world where my father doesn’t win and I can ask you out on a date,” Rafael chuckles. 

“But you love your father,” Anjali says in confusion.

“Very much,” Rafael nods. “But-”

“But what?”

“But I want to kiss you so bad, I think it’s starting to drive me a little insane,” Rafael sighs tiredly. 

Anjali looks at him incredulously. “I think you might be crazier than your brother. I can’t believe he’s the sensible one.”

“You take that back!” Rafael gasps. 

Anjali chuckles at that and shakes her head. “This would be a big mistake, Rafael.”

“I hate mistakes,” Rafael tells her. 

“I know,” She smiles a little. “Which is why I don’t want be one.”

“You would never be a mistake, Anjali,” Rafael bites his lip. “You’re a choice. One that I desperately want to make.”

Anjali looks at her hands and groans a little. “This would be a lot easier if you were an entitled jackass who happens to be my boss’ son.”

He knows. 

He knows there is something here. 

He’d never in a million years talk to her like this or flirt with her when he can if there wasn’t something. He’s seen it. He’s felt it. He knows it’s the same for her. 

But he also knows it won’t work out. She does too. 

Not when everything will be complicated after next year. 

Of course there is a simple solution to all of this. 

Anjali could simply not work for his father. But he could never ask her that. He’d never do that. 

It’s not fair. It’s not right. 

How could you love someone and not want the best for them? How could care about someone and not when them to have everything they deserve and have dreamed of?

He can’t do it. He won’t do it. 

Anjali’s dreams are more important than his feelings. He will always stand by that. 

“Sorry,” Rafael chuckles wearily. “I could try to be an entitled jackass who takes advantage of his father’s secretary. Ask you to bring me coffee or grope your ass.”

“If you ask me to bring you coffee, I will dump it on your head,” Anjali tells him menacingly. “Although I’m partial to the groping.”

“Amor, don’t play with me,” Rafael shakes his head, feeling an ache in his chest.

 “I’m not,” Anjali whispers quietly. “I…I’m not, Rafael.”

“Oh,” Rafael exhales, all the air in his lungs leaving him at once. 

“Maybe it doesn’t have to mean anything,” Anjali says carefully. 

“It’s you,” Rafael tells her in a whisper. “It will always mean something to me. You’re too amazing for it to be anything less.”

“Stop being nice about this!” Anjali groans loudly. “You’re making this difficult!”

“I’m sorry,” Rafael laughs. “Fine. I’ll be mean to you. Your paragraph spacing is shit.”

“You take that back right now-”

“Ow! Okay! Okay!” Rafael laughs again, pushing away when she tries to him hit him again. But he doesn’t let go of her hand. He doesn’t want to. “Can I kiss you?”

Oh. 

Oh, there is no going back now. 

Anjali’s dark eyes shut close at that. She sighs and shakes her head. “You shouldn’t.”

“Right,” Rafael swallows. “Sor-”

“But I want you to,” Anjali confesses quietly. 

“Really?” Rafael can barely himself. 

“Maybe a kiss is okay,” Anjali says slowly. 

“Yeah,” Rafael agrees, trying not to pass out with each passing word. “Just a kiss.”

“Just a kiss.”

“Exactly.”

“And then we get back to work.”

“Of course.”

“We’re professionals,” Anjali tells him. “We can control ourselves.”

“Totally,” Rafael nods. Then there is quietness. He swallows again. “So, does this mean I can now kiss-”

When she leans forward and kisses him, he knows it’s all over. When he feels her fingers in his curls, he knows there is no going back. 

He’s thought about this moment so many times that it’s kind of embarrassing. 

He’s thought about Anjali kissing him and his head exploding – and not in the fun way. 

He had expected his brain to scream at all sorts of things. 

Stop! Warning! Red alert! Danger! Stick to the system! Where are the standards? Stop this at once!

But he hears nothing right now. 

His brain, for the first time since he can remember, is quiet. 

It’s almost as if it’s got nothing to say to him. It’s almost as if it knows he’s got more important things going on. 

As if it knows nothing could possibly be more important than Anjali. 

Most of it all, it doesn’t feel like what he thought it would feel like. 

A mistake.

It doesn’t feel like a mistake. In fact, it feels like a blessing. 

A blessing.

Something he shouldn’t regret, but something he should be eternally grateful for.

A blessing.

[isolaradiale]

This is an event rerun. For more information on how to participate, please check our EVENT RERUN GUIDE! If you have any questions please do not hesitate to ask! Keep in mind that this event has already been rerun before, and any form of past participation in the other runs means you cannot claim it again.

“GOOD MORNING, FAIR RESIDENTS OF SPIRALE! DO YOU REMEMBER ME? OF COURSE YOU DO, HOW COULD YOU NOT!?” Regardless of what one was doing at the stroke of midnight, a booming voice echoed throughout the minds of every resident of Spirale in tandem. “IF YOU’D KINDLY TURN YOUR EYES TO THE NEAREST SCREEN, I HAVE AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE!”

Every screen in the city - be it a television, a phone, the digital screen on the fridge - all tuned into the same image. Rudimentary camera work pointed at a barely-lit visage. A three-eyed beast, each eye sporting a gleam as its feline features became more apparent. For many this was a beast that had appeared once before, but for others? “I AM THE MAD MERRYMAKER, THE PRINCE OF– AH, I’VE DONE THIS BEFORE. SIMPLY CALL ME K’HORII.”

As the cat beast spoke, throughout the city those that came from other worlds began to feel peculiarly disoriented. They couldn’t tear their eyes away from the screens but neither did they feel rooted on the ground. Almost as if it were an out of body experience. “MY ATTENTION WAS CAUGHT BY THESE HOLIDAY FESTIVITIES OF YOURS! AREN’T THEY PECULIAR? YOU LOT SPEND THE OTHER 11 MONTHS OF THE YEAR ARGUING AND FIGHTING, BUT AROUND THE HOLIDAYS YOU PRETEND TO GET ALONG! DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND ONE ANOTHER? NO! BUT THAT IS THE POINT OF MY BUSINESS HERE.”

All three of K’horii’s eyes shone crimson, and the point of view of every outsider in the city changed. They were not merely in a different place, but a different body entirely. “THE GAME IS SIMPLE! EVERY SO OFTEN YOU’LL BE SHUFFLED AROUND INTO ANOTHER BODY! WELL, IT’S MORE OF A SWAP. BEFORE YOU’RE SENT TO ANOTHER FORM YOU’LL BE RETURNED TO YOUR OWN. TIMING? THERE IS NO RHYME OR REASON! BUT YOU’D BEST NOT THINK THIS IS AS STRAIGHTFORWARD AS MERE BODYSNATCHING! …ALTHOUGH I’LL LEAVE THAT FOR YOU LOT TO DISCOVER!”

The screens all flickered off in tandem, leaving the out-of-worlders in completely different forms. At least for now. But… what could he have possibly meant by the situation not being as straightforward as it seemed?

★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆

Welcome to our next rerun event, EMPATHEOREM!

As you’ve surely gleamed from the above text, this event is based around the idea of living in another’s skin and coming to better understand people in ways you might not have otherwise. Here’s a general overview of how things will work mechanically:

characters can only swap with one other character at a time. the duration of the swap is up to the muns involved, and it could last the entire event, a number of hours, or even less. do what you’re comfortable with!

the characters do not to be within close proximity of one another to swap nor does it have to be with someone they know. it could be with someone on the other side of the city, leaving them to try and figure out who they are.

swapping must be done with mun permission. please respect the boundaries of other muns!

you cannot swap with an animal / pokemon unless they are a character on the masterlist. if there’s a pikachu on the masterlist for example you could swap with them, but not the pokemon of a trainer on the masterlist.

powers remain bound to the body regardless of whether they are physical or mental along with the unlock limitations. so if muse a were to swap with muse b, they would be able to use all of muse b’s unlocked powers provided they could figure out how to use them.

it isn’t merely a physical swap however, and there are side effects to being in another’s body that become more and more prominent the more time they spend swapped.

swapped characters may be prone to acting more and more like the owner of the body they are in. so for example if muse a and muse b swap, the longer they remained swapped the more they may begin to act like one another.

swapped characters may also experience one another’s memories. with mun permission, feel free to have them remember experiences only the host body might have known. this is a great way for characters to learn things about one another that might otherwise have gone unsaid!

the former two points are optional. you do not need to utilize either if you are not comfortable with it.

if your character has any special biological traits to note, please make sure to include this information in an info post or on your ad! in cases where characters have a fatal weakness to something mundane (in cases like being weak to the sun), you can choose to have anyone in their body subconsciously realize this for example. please do not kill anyone else’s muse without permission!

a posted mini will not count as participation during this event unless it is replied to before the event period ends. likewise during this event, drabbles will not count. this is because the event is very dependent on bond building interactions and we would like you guys to reach out and write with each other.

if you are not comfortable swapping with another character you are free to avoid doing so for the event! however to earn participation you must interact with at least one character who has swapped with someone else!

in regards to icons: if you’d like to offer up icons for people to use you can, but it isn’t mandatory at all!

you can use an info post to list things like unique biological characteristics, unlocked powers, and what kind of things like memories or personality traits a character in their body may come to expect if you’re okay with them experiencing these things. you can also provide a sampling of usable icons if you’d like! we recommend you tag these info posts with ‘#iremp info’.

even if you have mun permission we will not allow nsfw to be written during the event (unless it takes place outside of the event of course!). we also ask that you do not write any content picking fun at your new body in any form, even lightheartedly, for the sake of member comfort (for instance, if your muse does not have breasts and ends up in a body that does, do not joke about “having boobies”, or if they are a different weight do not draw attention to and mock it). if you are at all unsure if something crosses this line, we ask that you refrain.

the event officially ends at 11:59:59PM EST on july 5th.

[inquisitor-apologist]

I think it’s kind of necessary to consider that episode 3 of the Acolyte is told entirely from the witches’ pov, where the Jedi are dangerous outsiders who might hurt them. When you consider it from what the Jedi see/know, what they did makes a lot more sense.

For starters, they arrive on a planet that is supposedly uninhabited (and was, until at most a couple of decades ago) and pretty quickly they see two force-sensitive kids playing in the woods.

That’s pretty weird, but then a woman comes up and gets mad at them for playing in the forest, which is a very normal kid thing to do. One of the kids says that they are never supposed to leave the Fortress, which kind of leaps the situation from weird to concerning pretty quickly.

It’s pointed out in the dialogue of the episode itself that the galaxy is a pretty dangerous place for force-sensitive kids (people try to enslave them and use them as weapons a lot, think tcw). And. Well, when you go to a place that is supposedly uninhabited (isolated) and immediately see children of a very vulnerable group who are, by their own admission, never allowed to leave a fortress (military connotations), that’s pretty concerning.

Look at Sol’s face when we first see him. He’s breathing heavy, and he looks scared. He’s obviously, and justifiably, imo, worried for these kids.

When they go to look for these kids later, they find, yeah, a massive fortress, but, since it’s implied that everyone is at the ceremony but the two scouts, it’s empty. So they come in, and they are immediately met with hostility.

They say hi, and someone yells that they’re trespassing, despite the fact that no one is supposed to be on this planet and nobody was answering the door. When they point that out, the lady in charge is immediately condescending and and rude for no reason before accusing them of lying.

We know that the coven is trying to stay hidden, and earlier this episode believed that the Jedi didn’t know they existed, so why Aniseya is suddenly sure that they knew the planet was inhabited is unclear.

Indara is then clear that they’re not here to hurt anyone, and Aniseya accuses them of lying again, because they’re armed (Jedi always carry their lightsabers, it’s part of their religion, though I’m willing to believe Aniseya didn’t know that) and unannounced (?? What. How are the Jedi going to announce themselves to people they didn’t know about).

Indara pretty quickly makes it clear that they’re concerned about the kids (she literally says concerned), which, as I said earlier, is pretty justified from their pov. She says that it’s illegal to train children in the Republic, which I have to assume is meant to be seen as a lie (or at least a stretch of the truth) by the audience, considering that the Jedi know of and are friendly to many other force-sensitives faiths across the galaxy, including ones that train children and use the Dark Side, like the Nightsisters.

And yeah, maybe that lie wasn’t the best approach, but I think it’s an understandable choice. They get the kids to come out, and then ask where their dad is, which seems pretty reasonable to me, and are told that they don’t have one. Since that is impossible, it probably sets off all kind of alarm bells, like were these kids (force-sensitive, living on a planet where nobody is supposed to be, unable to leave their fortress) kidnapped?

One of the kids has a very intricate tattoo that probably feels pretty weird in the force, that she didn’t have a couple hours ago and does not appear to have been done recently (no irritation or redness).

When Sol points this out, he’s accused of spying on them (as opposed to the idea that he saw the kids out in the forest? It seems like everyone in the coven knows they were out in the morning) and trying to steal the kids. He’s literally just said hi, asked their names, and pointed out a confusing tattoo.

When he’s like, no, I’m not here to steal your kids, we don’t do that, he’s immediately threatened. Despite this, he gives his sacred weapon away to one of the kids, who was clearly curious about it, to prove he’s not a threat. Indara is even clear that she doesn’t want Sol to even have his saber out to protect himself from the witches who just threatened to cut his tongue out, which really speaks to his much the Jedi are being genuine and not trying to cause problems.

Sol then tells Osha that she’d be a good Jedi (nice compliment to a kid who’s clearly interested) and asks if she wants to be tested, which is pretty innocuous, especially when considering that the Jedi probably think that Osha and Mae might be being abused.

In response to this, the witches then cast a spell on and threaten a child to make them leave. The child has done literally nothing this entire time. He hasn’t talked to the witches or the kids, he’s just been standing there.

Seriously, I don’t think people are talking about that enough. They torture a child (he is clearly in pain and ‘not in his right mind’) because… they’re threatened by Sol talking to Osha? That’s a huge red flag, and probably confirms to the Jedi that Osha and Mae are in danger. They attack a child with no provocation, and the Jedi are just supposed to assume that the kids in their care, in an isolated fortress on an uninhabited planet, are safe?

The Jedi (rightfully) double down, going like, hey we have the right to make sure these kids aren’t force sensitive (and probably to make sure they aren’t being hurt, though they don’t say that because, well, they already know that the witches aren’t going to react well).

After getting permission, the Jedi thank the guys who just attacked them and leave (look at how scared Torbin is, how quickly he tries to get away from the witches).

They test the kids, who are definitely trying to fail, and ask Osha what she wants. She reveals that she wants to be a Jedi despite pressure from her family to lie (bit of a red flag) and that she doesn’t seem to be aware of the existence of other kids (another red flag).

[highfiveheroes]

For the angst prompts: number 6 with Kip and Porter (imagine me smiling an evil smile)

ohhh boy :)

๑ “all you’ve ever done is disappoint me.”

How could she have been so stupid?

How could she have been so stupid?

Kipperlilly knows this conversation won’t be easy. She’s trying to anticipate how it will go—it’s easy to, because she knows Porter well, so the more she anticipates the less it will hurt when he says it.

He’ll call her stupid, tell her she’s supposed to be smarter than this.

(She knows that already.)

He’ll call her a shoddy right hand, a bad lieutenant, a mess.

(She knows that already.)

He’ll say he should have been able to trust her but clearly he can’t, if this is what the results will always be.

(She knows that already.)

(She knows all of this already, the thoughts coming back as echoes from previous conversations. He’s right. She’s supposed to be smarter than this. She’s supposed to be his trusted lieutenant. She’s supposed to be reliable and quick and on the ball, and the fact that this whole thing has gone poorly is absolutely a reflection on her failings.)

And the thing is, if this conversation had happened in his office, in private. If it had been two weeks ago, two months ago, hell—even two years ago—her predictions might have been spot on.

She hears Jace and Oisin tell him they failed. They didn’t get the name.

“Kipperlilly got us out too soon,” Oisin insists, pointing a big, scaled finger at her with anger. He’s soaked in rainwater; she wonders, distantly, if he’s crying too. If he’s a little bitch who saw his grandma die and feels something about it. He’s too weak to be on the team if so, she decides, and she wonders if she can talk Porter into kicking him out—

But they’re out of time, she has to remind herself. The half finished summoning spell is shaking the gym; Jace runs over to help Buddy set up some kind of containment spell, her two blonde companions working as hard as they can to keep it together.

“It was a tactical move,” she’s protesting before Oisin has finished talking. “If you had gotten it right in the first place, this wouldn’t be a problem—“

The sting of his hand across her cheek stutters her into silence. She’s breathing heavy. She thinks one of her teeth is loose. She always thinks that when someone hits her, but it might be true this time.

“No,” Porter says loudly. “Shut the fuck up. You had one fucking job.”

“If they went down—“ she tries to protest, but her voice is shaking. And it doesn’t matter anyway.

“God,” Porter says. His voice is echoing in the room, the power of a half alive god making him sound even more unhinged. “I knew it was a fucking mistake recruiting you. All you have ever done is disappoint me, you stupid fucking halfling bitch.”

He continues, and her brain files the words away for next time so she can expect to hear them again. As she focuses on the categorization, she hopes it’ll make the words sting less.

It doesn’t.

She’s worthless.

She’s the stupidest person he’s ever had the misfortune of working with.

She was a mistake from day one.

She was a liability.

She was never in charge, and she’s an idiot for even pretending she was.

He never should have trusted her.

He should have made sure she never had the chance to come back and fuck this up.

She’s worthless.

She’s horrible.

She’s worthless.

She’s worthless.

She’s worthless.

She hasn’t looked up at him. Did he cast cutting words? She thinks he must have. She thinks she might be crying.

“If this fails,” he says seriously. When did he get so close to her face? “It will be on your hands, Kipperlilly. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” she whispers. She knows to answer questions. He seems satisfied enough, storming away, but she’s not stupid enough to move this soon. She can’t do anything to bring his attention back to her, because he’s right and she doesn’t want to admit it.

It will be on her hands when this fails. Not a matter of if, but when. She knows this as fact.

All you’ve ever done is disappoint me, Kipperlilly.

All her sacrifices for nothing. All her lost friends, her efforts she put in to a good year, her chance at being a hero—all for nothing. Everything she’s ever done has all been for nothing.

Someone heals her. She isn’t sure who. She isn’t sure it matters. She doesn’t thank them. She doesn’t look anyone in the eye. She just waits.

She stands and she waits for the end to come.

[thestarkerisobvious]

Whatever It Is, I Guarantee The Answer Is Yes

by @thestarkerisobvious and @cutepandaprincess

Tony couldn’t keep his hands off the rise of Peter’s ass no matter how hard he tried… he was only human dammit… but when Peter shifted, exposing more of his ass to Tony’s hands, Tony’s hands just went up.  Caressing the small of Peter’s back, running over his shoulders and the back of his head, all these were lovely pastimes too. He hadn't been completely sure he would be making out with his brilliant (beautiful!) intern tonight, but now that he was...

...he didn’t want to hurry this.  If his hands went lower, his twenty-something-intern might get the wrong idea and decide it was time to move things along.  But right now… right now was perfect…

Tony couldn’t remember the last time he had been allowed to kiss someone for this long.

Pepper had made fun of him in the early years, back when they were still intimate.  Laughed at him wanting to make out like a teenager.  He had no way to explain to her that it was the part he needed most… the closeness, the intimacy.  The feeling of being cared for when another human being cradled his face in two hands.  When the clothes came off… well, that was just mechanics.  Something to be done with and then dismissed.

Pepper had been profoundly different, because after the clothes came off and the mechanics were finished, the intimacy actually began.  After she was satisfied, then she was ready for the part Tony needed.  A little of the kissing, mostly the closeness and the cradling.  

With men it was different.  Men Tony’s age didn’t expect it, and boy’s Peter’s age were all too eager to show off… usually their oral skills… usually headed south before the first kiss was over.

But this was different.  

Tony was embarrassed at how much he was moaning… but every time Peter put two hands on the sides of his face he just melted.  Sometimes he pulled back just to look up in amazement at the boy’s face.

Sometimes Peter would start kissing downward and Tony’s heart would break a little, knowing this part was coming to an end…

Then Peter would come right back to his mouth again and the melting started all over again.

Peter was a mix of feelings now. He could hardly believe he was here, in his boss's penthouse. In his lap. In his arms. Peter wanted more of this, at the same time he wanted things to get started. (And at the same time he was trying very hard not to think about what would happen if...)

He kissed all the way of Tony's face, his lips, his neck, his goatee. Moaning at everything Tony did with his hands. Moaning at everything Tony did to him. 

God… this was perfect… 

Sometimes Peter would put his hands on Tony’s face, sometimes Tony took his hands and put them on the sides of his face himself.  Both felt like heaven.  

“My god you’re perfect…” Tony whispered… it was not an adequate description of what he was feeling right now, but it was all he had.

Over the years he had learned to keep a certain distance from other people… people in business, people in the superhero business, people in bed.  It was safer that way.

In the past 10 minutes he seemed to have forgotten all he had learned.

“Peter… you’re making me crazy…” he moaned helplessly.  This kid had put a spell on him, there was simply no explanation for it.  

One hand ran possessively up Peter’s back, pulling his shirt up with it.  The other hand squeezed greedily on a handful of ass.

Peter moaned loudly, blushing hard when he realized the sounds he was making. He helped Tony get rid of his shirt. Panting softly when he felt the man's eyes on him. 

"Tony… fuck…" his hair was a mess, sweaty and glued to his forehead. He opened his mouth again, then closed it again. The words just wouldn't come. 

”Yes” Tony whispered, moving suddenly to kiss Peter on the mouth again.  What he whispered next he whispered directly against Peter’s lips.  “Whatever it is, baby, I guarantee the answer is ‘yes.’” 

Peter pulled away enough to speak. This was as good a time as any. He took a deep breath and strugged to find the words.

"This… I've never… been with anyone before…" he admitted, embarrassed. 

Tony blinked in confusion.  Then he blinked several times in confusion.  It didn’t help that this most beautiful body was inches in front of him, and he was ready to cover every inch with his mouth.  He needed to taste it, needed that in a powerful way…

...but wait…

He pulled back enough to fully focus on Peters face, looking into his eyes, perplexed.  

Was Peter saying… was he admitting he had never been in a relationship before??  And did that mean he wanted Tony to… Tony’s chest tightened and his mouth went dry and his heart pounded. 

He wanted that… wanted that like a drowning man wanted to breathe. Wanted this brilliant, beautiful boy in his life.  Wanted it so badly it was OBVIOUS he should say no.  Nothing he wanted like that could be a good thing...

“Kid… are you… are you sure?  Are you sure… you want it to be me?  I mean I’m nine miles of bad road…”

Peter nodded eagerly. "I want it to be you… I'm… I'm… not sure I'll be good at it… but I'm enjoying this," he admitted, closing the distance and kissing Tony's lips. 

"Can we continue? I mean… I understand if you don't want someone as inexperienced as me..." he started to ramble and feel insecure. Covering his chest with his hands nervously. 

Automatically Tony took Peter’s hands and placed them on his own chest, even as he tried his best to puzzle out the incredible information he was receiving.

When Peter had started talking it had occurred to him that he had gotten it wrong… of course Peter wasn’t talking about his first relationship, he was saying this was the first time he had been with his boss before...  which made sense since he had never worked for anyone before… but wait… even that didn’t make sense… now Tony couldn’t figure out what he was being told.

He did catch the part where Peter was enjoying the kissing, so he leaned forward and kissed him very gently, brain spinning.

Then he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around the boy for a moment.  It was a ruse - it was to hide his face as he tried to puzzle out what this could possibly mean.

He had caught the word ‘inexperienced’ … the exact opposite of the boys he had been dealing with for the past several years.  Those boys were eager, sometimes over-eager, to show off their skills (and some, of course, were professionals.)  None of them had ever announced that they were inexperienced… 

This was a puzzle.  And vitally important - he had to ask the questions very delicately.

Now they weren’t even kissing - he was just holding Peter, rubbing his hands up and down Peter’s back.  He was taking too long, and it was getting awkward.  He had to say something.

He kissed the boy on the side of the face and spoke very carefully.  “Okay... give me information.  

“You mean… you’ve never been… with an older man?”

Peter swallowed hard. Oh no.

He was going to have to say it out loud, wasn't he?