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#I was under the influence of alcohol when I wrote this post
catsnuggler · 1 year
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Interrogator: You say you are an anarchist? Me: Yes. Yes, I am. I proudly, fervently, say, with conviction, that I am an anarchist. I oppose all centralized authority as tyrannical, be it fascist or liberal. Interrogator: And yet you would DIE - you would give YOUR life - for Aragorn, High King of Gondor? Me: *whimpers* You just don't UNDERSTAND. You just don't UNDERSTAND. Yes. YES! Yes, Gods... *cries*... "for all that you hold dear, I bid you: Stand, Men of the West!" *pulls sword out of my pant leg, which was somehow totally hidden, not forming any kind of outline in my pants*
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wispyxjae · 28 days
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going to a rave or concert with bf!p1harmony member
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genre: fluff, nsfw/suggestive below the cut (mdni)
cw: established relationship, female reader, mentions of substance/alcohol use (aged up seobsoul), pda, kissing/making out, groping, possessive piwon, non idol au
a/n: i wrote this at 4am while still intoxicated post-first rave so i hope you enjoy my drunk thoughts. i’ve also been wanting to write this ever since those pictures of intak, keeho, and jongseob in the crowd at gov ball were released.
imagine going to a rave or concert with your boyfriend and he’s just holding you close, hugging you from behind and dancing with you.
you turn around to face him and stare lovingly at him as you both feel the music coursing through your veins. his hands go to cup your face as he presses kisses all over, pulling away to smile at you as he spins you around so you can enjoy the light show the artist puts on for the crowd.
he loooves having you in his arms so close to him and being able to show other guys around you that you’re his and no one else’s to lay hands on or even look at. is definitely possessive in public, especially if either or both of you are under the influence; the pda is coming out and there’s nothing anyone else can do about it. for the most part, keeps it simple and classy with just skinship and kisses. it’s enough to make you feel safe and him feel like the luckiest man on earth.
absolutely makes sure you’re hydrated before, during, and after the outing so you can have a good time. will even take off your makeup and do your skincare routine for you at the end of the night if you’re too gone or tired to do it yourself. loves to take care of you and nurture you because you’re his loving partner who deserves nothing but the best (which is what he is to you).
nsfw/suggestive below the cut! mdni at this point
if he had to be completely honest, your outfit had his head spinning even more than the substances or alcohol. he knew you were planning this outfit for a few weeks now, constantly drooling at the idea of you in less clothing than usual. the moment you got dressed, pulling on the last few accessories to tie the look together, all it took was one look at you for him to drink you in and get drunk on you alone. he admired the bold and sparkly makeup you decided to do, fingers lightly touching the jewels on your face every now and then.
it was nights like this when he couldn’t believe you were his girl. he was obsessed with you (which is nothing new) and couldn’t keep his hands off you the entire night. he tried his hardest to limit the pda to kissing and holding you in front of him, not wanting to ruin your high/trip if he got too handsy. but the moment you turn to look at him with those big doe eyes he’s a goner.
his hands travel from your waist down to your ass, the lack of clothing giving him easy access to squeeze and grope at the flesh. your arms snake up around his neck as he leans down to kiss you, slowly and passionately. time stopped down when the two of you were together, especially intoxicated and in the middle of a huge crowd; it felt like you two were the only ones that existed.
the longer you two kiss, the more handsy he gets, causing you to gasp and allow his tongue to slip into your mouth. you can taste the remnants of alcohol on his tongue, but his touch is even more intoxicating. the thrumming bass drowns out any noises you may make to those around you, but he knows you so well and knows exactly what sounds you’re making just by how desperately you’re kissing him back, panting and scratching at the hair at the nape of his neck.
when you finally pull away after what feels like an eternity, he’s still holding you close to him, one hand around your waist and the other giving your each of your cheeks a light squeeze. you’re both breathless and can’t help but smile at each other as you rest your foreheads against one another. “you make me crazy, y/n,” he shouts over the blaring music, pressing another kiss to your smiling lips. “i love you too,” you nearly scream back, laughing before he turns back around to enjoy the show, but now pulling you even closer than before, with his chin on your shoulder, just so you can feel the affect you have on him digging into your ass.
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gimmethatagustd · 9 months
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delicate | pjm
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After months of not talking to each other, Taehyung thinks he can charm his way into your life again. Thankfully, Jimin is there to help you work through your feelings.
○ Pairing: Jimin x f!reader (from Only Here To Sin)
○ Rating: Explicit/18+
○ Genre: Established relationship, fluff, smut, pwp
○ Word Count: 3,987
○ Warnings: It's pretty much just porn, OHTS Taehyung strikes again!! he's annoying!!, mentions past sex with Taehyung, references toxic past relationships, consensual sex while under the influence of alcohol (just tipsy), using a tie as a blindfold, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, it's their first time together 🥹, I definitely didn't edit this (as usual, we post when we're done and we never look back)
○ Notes: This can be read as a standalone oneshot, but I recommend reading OHTS to get the full backstory~ and also because it's a disaster of a series, so it's kind of like watching a trainwreck. Don't judge me too much; I had no idea what I was doing when I wrote it. I still have no idea what I'm doing!
○ Post Date: December 16, 2023
○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots
○ What was Jai listening to? Like Crazy - Jimin
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You knew going out with Jackie was a mistake. Even more of a mistake was your agreement to go to this nightclub. 
“Are you cold?” 
Jimin’s arms snake around your waist and draw you against his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder. The light, minty scent of his toothpaste mixes with the floral notes of his cologne. Rather than overwhelm you, the smell grounds you and brings you into the present. 
“I’m okay,” you mumble. 
Jimin hums. You feel the sound vibrate from his throat against your shoulder and the side of your neck. He’s not convinced, and you know he isn’t. 
“Want to go find your friends? I’ll order us drinks.” 
You nod and reluctantly detach yourself from Jimin’s embrace. The poor bartender has far too many people crowding the counter. Jimin will have to wait a while; he’s too polite to cut in front of other customers. 
The club isn’t big, but it’s packed. You feel like you’re clawing through the bodies swaying to the music with your head on a swivel to find your friends in the crowd. The last time you were at this club, you’d ended up in the bathroom with Taehyung’s fingers shoved inside you. 
No. You are not going to think about that. 
It has been five months. Five months of detoxing, of neatly packing away the hurt and confusion that Taehyung caused you and storing it in the attic of your mind. You’re a different person now. The person Taehyung manipulated and strung along was no more. And the most important part is that you’ve forgiven the person you used to be. It was too easy to be angry at yourself for your mistakes. 
Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean you weren’t nervous about returning home for summer break. The memories and emotions triggered the moment you pulled into your parents’ driveway were enough to make you feel like throwing up. You’re lucky Jimin got time off from his music apprenticeship in California to visit you, or you may not survive the summer. 
Dreary thoughts aside, you’re beginning to feel frustrated with your inability to find Jackie when you feel a warm hand slide into your palm and long fingers intertwine with yours. 
“Hey, jagi.” 
Despite the loud thrum of music, that smooth voice pierces through you sharply and clearly.
Taehyung’s cheeks shimmer pink with intoxication beneath his honey-toned skin. His hair is longer than when you last saw him. It falls into his eyes, obscuring them in a way that makes his already mystifying gaze all the more intimidating. They nearly glow in the pulsing club lights, sparkling with amusement. 
“Miss me?” Taehyung tongues his cheek as his eyes take apart every inch of your body. “You look really good.” 
How your stomach flutters with butterflies you’d thought were long gone makes you feel sick. You quickly rip your hand from Taehyung’s. You’d missed him, in the beginning, a little bit, but being with him had hurt you more than leaving him. It took making new friends to realize you’d missed companionship, not Taehyung. Now, you have far healthier friendships. 
You can practically hear Alexis’s voice in your head, nagging you about toxic men like Taehyung. 
“The worst thing a man can be is aware that he’s hot,” Alexis lectured you the first time you opened up to her about Taehyung. She wasn’t wrong.  
“No, I did not.” The steadiness of your voice surprises you, though it shouldn’t. You’ve put in a lot of work to process your fucked up relationship with Taehyung. You can do this. 
The smug look on Taehyung’s face doesn’t disappear, but that doesn’t surprise you. 
“Why didn’t you tell me you were in town, jagi?”
“Why do you even think I would tell you?” 
Before you can demand that Taehyung stop calling you by the inappropriate term of endearment, you feel lips brush against your temple. 
“I gave up,” Jimin admits with an apologetic smile and empty hands. His eyes take in your crossed arms and rigid stance when you don't speak. With a frown, he follows your gaze to notice Taehyung finally. “Oh, sorry, hi. I’m Jimin, her boyfriend.”  
You try to be kind, but you want to punch the smug look off of Taehyung’s face when he offers his hand to Jimin. 
“Nice to meet you, Jimin-ssi. I’m Taehyung,” he introduces himself. “Her ex.” 
Jimin is too polite for his own good. He shakes Taehyung’s hand with his head cocked to the side. His pink lips scrunch into a sideways pout, and his eyebrows are just as tense. It’s the look he makes while writing his Music Theory essays. (“Music is about feeling, Y/N! Why do I need to write papers about it?”) It isn’t anger or frustration but a struggle to understand. 
All you can think about is that Taehyung called himself your ex. After the grief he’d given you for wanting to be more to him than a sexual conquest, it’s unfathomable that he could claim the two of you had dated. 
“She’s told me about you,” Jimin finally states. You’re not sure what angle he’s going for. In all honestly, you’d love to melt into the floor and bypass this entire conversation. 
“That’s cute.” Taehyung’s eyes twinkle with the sparkles of the disco ball rotating overhead. 
“Hmm, I guess, if you think being an asshole is cute.” 
You hope your gasp isn’t detectable. Both men continue staring at each other, so it’s hard to tell. 
“Do you?” Taehyung grins, and you barely hide your shock when Taehyung blatantly checks Jimin out. 
It’s the same predatory look he’s given you in the past that makes your heart flutter and heat blossom between your thighs. You find it odd to see the look directed at someone else, let alone at your boyfriend. 
It’s also odd that you feel relieved when Jimin’s cheeks flush pink at the sudden attention. Somehow, Jimin’s reaction is the validation you need to remind yourself that you haven’t made anything up. Taehyung has this uncanny power to capture people’s attention and draw them into his clutches with a simple look. Seeing Jimin affected by Taehyung makes you feel better about falling into his trap. It doesn’t take away all the blame; you take full responsibility for your actions. But it helps knowing someone as strong as Jimin can be flustered by Taehyung, too. 
“I do not, actually.” Jimin tightens his hold on your waist. The feeling of his warm hand on your hip keeps you out of your head. Grounded. Jimin always keeps you grounded. 
“Unfortunately, that’s all Taehyung knows how to be,” you pipe up. Even if your snappy comment does nothing to remove the smug look on Taehyung’s face, you get satisfaction from voicing your thoughts regardless. 
“If I remember correctly, you enjoyed that about me.” 
You let out a long sigh. “Tae, what matters is that I’m not enjoying anything about this conversation right now.” 
Jimin presses his fingers into your side, gently reminding you he’s there – as if you could ever forget his presence. 
“Let’s go, Jimin.” You wrap your pinky around Jimin’s and tug. “I’m sure whoever Taehyung came with is looking for him.” 
You don’t wait for a response from either man. You’re over the days of having men tell you what to do.
Two hours later, you’re thoroughly tipsy and stumbling into Jimin’s hotel room with sore feet and the sensation of cotton in your ears from the nightclub’s loud music. Never the type to be out all night, it didn’t take long for you to ask Jimin if you could head back to his hotel room. Although you succeeded in ensuring Taehyung didn’t ruin the night for you, partying isn’t your thing anyway. 
Jimin, on the other hand, is still wired. He strips off his shirt and tosses it onto the couch before working on unbuckling his belt. 
“What’s the name of that guy Jackie’s dating?” he asks with a huff like he’s out of breath. You watch him tug his belt from the loops and toss it onto the couch. 
“Seokjin? Well, he goes by Jin.” Jin and Jackie. They’re an unlikely pair but cute. 
“Yes! He’s so funny!” Jimin pushes his jeans down his thighs. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone take that make shots. And you know how my fraternity is.” 
Following Jimin’s lead, you shimmy out of your dress. The hotel’s vents are blasting cold air, so you quickly sort through Jimin’s suitcase to find one of his oversized t-shirts and a pair of loose boxers to wear. The two of you have undressed in front of each other before, and you’ve even fooled around while naked, but nothing has ever gone beyond using your hands and mouths to get each other off. Jimin has been unbelievably gentle and kind with your desire to take your relationship slow. You’ve been dating for nearly half a year, and he hasn’t pressured you. 
You know it’s basic decency to respect someone’s boundaries, but considering the relationships you’ve had in the past, this is a big deal for you. 
Not ready to sleep yet, Jimin sits in the bed and reaches for you with grabby hands and a slight pout. He looks adorable with his fluffy blonde hair. You’re not sure you can deny him anything, honestly. 
“We probably should have had more water,” Jimin points out as you climb into his lap. Heat radiates from his bare chest, prompting you to snuggle against his skin to absorb some of that warmth for yourself. 
“I’m fine.” 
“You’re talking with this cute little slur.”
“I am not!” 
Okay, maybe you are, but you’re not drunk. You’re just tipsy enough to feel loose in your limbs, light in your head, and hot in your core. Biting your bottom lip, you shift to straddle Jimin’s lap. The blankets pool around your waist, and Jimin’s hands naturally rest on your bare thighs. 
Jimin lets you lift his chin so his head is tilted to look at you. 
“Are you okay?” His hold on your hips is light but sturdy. 
“I want you.” 
Jimin’s eyes flutter closed when your lips brush against his neck. You suck at the soft skin where his jaw meets his throat while you thread your fingers through his blonde waves. When you nestle your fingers into the roots, you gently tug his hair. 
A low groan rumbles from Jimin’s chest. His grip on your waist tightens, and the sensation causes your body to shudder. 
“Are you sure?” He opens his eyes when you pull back from his neck, but you’re focused on the dark, reddish-purple bruise you’ve left on his skin. “I don’t want you to feel like you need to do anything after running into–” 
“No.” Your response is curt, probably sharper than Jimin expects if his widened eyes are anything to go off of. “Taehyung doesn’t have any influence over me anymore, Jimin. This is just me wanting you, okay?” 
It’s true; Taehyung has nothing to do with your desire for Jimin. Maybe if he does have some ounce of influence over the situation, it’s only because you feel empowered and emboldened after standing up to him. That, mixed with the alcohol, is giving you a sense of invincibility. It’s confidence that you might lose by the night's end, but you’re willing to ride the wave for as long as you can. 
None of this is anything you’ll regret in the morning. If anything, you’ll be thankful for the opportunity to prove to yourself and everyone else that you’re ready to take on the things you’ve once feared. 
Accepting your reassurances, Jimin nods. He runs a hand up your spine, stopping at the base of your head to cup your neck.
“Can I just say something first?” 
His question makes your stomach flip, but you force yourself to maintain eye contact while you nod. You tend to get nervous with him when you’re intimate. There’s nothing wrong with Jimin; he’s kind and attentive. It’s your bad experiences with sex that make you hesitate. There’s too much pressure to perform well. 
“You always get really nervous,” Jimin starts slowly, rubbing his palms up your thighs. “And I was trying to think of a way to help you relax.” 
Shame burns your cheeks because you feel like this isn’t something Jimin should have to do. It’s pathetic, isn’t it? Why can’t you handle sex without getting so stressed out over it? 
“Okay…” you prompt him to continue, though you aren’t sure if you want him to. 
“Would you be willing to try something? I promise if you don’t like it, we can stop.” 
If it were anyone else, you’d be scared of Jimin’s question, but you find it relatively easy to agree to whatever plan he has – albeit nervously. 
Careful not to jostle you too much, Jimin maneuvers you off his lap and goes to his suitcase. It takes a few seconds for him to find what he’s looking for, but when he faces you again, you feel your heart flutter.
In Jimin’s hands is a silk black tie, which he keeps for special occasions – such as the dinner he attended with you and your parents when he first arrived in your hometown for the summer. It looks good on him, especially when he loosens it and lets it hang haphazardly around his neck. 
Despite your limited sexual experience, it’s clear that he won’t be the one wearing it tonight. Approaching the bed, Jimin instructs you to sit back with your legs spread so he can kneel between them. 
“You trust me?” he whispers. When you nod, he reaches behind your head to secure the tie so that it covers your eyes. “Let me know if it’s uncomfortable, and I can redo it.” 
“It feels okay.” Strange, but okay. 
You can’t see anything, so you keep your eyes closed. Rather than become even more nervous about the unknown of the darkness, you find that it’s actually relaxing. So often, you let negative thoughts ruin intimacy with Jimin, preventing you from moving forward in your relationship. Somehow, being blindfolded empties your mind until all you can think about is how you imagine what Jimin looks like while he touches you. 
You let Jimin guide you to lie flat on your back. With your most prominent sense taken away, you focus on your others to tell you what’s happening. Jimin is slow as he slips his hands beneath the hem of your shirt to push it up your torso. 
“Can I take this off?” His breath is hot against the side of your neck, and you feel the bed shift when he hovers above you. 
“Yes,” you reply, barely above a breathy whisper. 
Once Jimin has removed your shirt, his body heat disappears. You don’t panic, but you feel lost without his touches there to ground you. That is, until you feel something wet flick across your nipple. 
“Oh, god,” you moan when Jimin wraps his lips around your nipple and gently sucks. 
His tongue is hot and sloppy as it swirls around the bud until it’s perky and hard. Satisfied with his work, Jimin attaches his plush lips to your other nipple and repeats the same action. 
You arch your back, pushing against his mouth. Jimin wraps his arms around your waist to press his palm to the small of your back, further pulling you into him. The darkness heightens your sense of touch, making each hot swipe of Jimin’s tongue and the graze of his teeth against your skin even more tantalizing. Your pussy throbs with how wet and hot you’re growing just from this alone. 
“Jimin,” you whimper. 
His fingers hook around the edge of your borrowed boxers. “Can I take these off, too?”
You nod your head quickly and lift your hips to make it easier for Jimin to pull his boxers off of you. 
“So pretty…” 
You let out a high moan when you feel the pads of Jimin’s fingers brush against your entrance. He gathers your arousal and smears it over your lips and clit. You can hear the squelch the wetness makes when he dips his fingers inside of you just enough to gather more of the sticky mess. Your wet skin goes cold, and you can tell Jimin has blown air on you. 
“I’m going to eat you out, okay?” Jimin punctuates his question with a tiny flick of his tongue against your pussy. 
“Please, fuck, please,” you want to cry and try to push your hips against where you think his face is, but his hands hold your hips down. 
“I will, I will.”
Jimin laughs, airy and gentle, before pushing his tongue further between your lips to flick your clit. He repeatedly sucks on your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive skin while his lips envelop you. 
Your skin is blazing from the heat of his heavy breathing and how his touch makes you burn. Every suck of your clit makes you gush between your thighs. You can imagine Jimin staring up at you with dark eyes as he eats you out, humming into your pussy with satisfaction.
You arch into his face when you feel pressure at your entrance again, and Jimin slips two fingers into your pussy. He thrusts them in and out, hooking them to press his fingers against your front wall to find the spot he knows so well that makes you squirm. 
“Fuck,” he groans into your dripping pussy. Turning his head to the side, Jimin brushes his mouth against the inside of your thigh. His lips are soaked and sticky. 
You rock against his hand as he fingers you, letting out little “ah ah ah’s” with each thrust against your front wall. You feel like you’re on fire, like every breath will ignite your body, make you combust. 
“Please, Jimin, please.” You never thought you’d be the type to beg, but you’re so desperate to cum that it’s embarrassing. “I’m going fucking crazy, please.” 
You try not to compare Jimin to Taehyung; you really try. But it’s hard not to, especially when Jimin gives you the best head you’ve ever had. Foreplay has never lasted this long before. You can’t tell if it’s a blessing or a curse. 
“Ready for me?” It’s both hard to hear and so fucking hot when Jimin asks the question into your pussy. 
It’s disorienting when Jimin uses his clean hand to pull his tie off your face. You blink a few times to adjust to the light, belatedly realizing neither of you ever turned it off. While some people like intimacy in the dark, you and Jimin always keep the lights on. It’s nice to look at it other; it feels more intimate. 
You switch positions, allowing Jimin to sit against the headboard and have you straddle his lap like you were before. 
“Ride me first, okay?” Jimin whispers in your ear when he takes your arms and wraps them around his shoulders. “I want to see your face when you take my cock for the first time.” 
Your pussy flutters, and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to survive taking his cock if his words are enough to create a reaction in you that makes your knees weak. 
“Oh, oh,” you whimper as Jimin sits against the bedframe. “Okay.” 
“Look at me.” 
And you do. You stare into those narrowed, sultry eyes as you line his cock with your entrance, one hand squeezing his shoulder to help you lean at the correct angle. The stretch is quite easy despite your previous concerns about taking Jimin fully. It should have been obvious; you’re so drenched that you slide down on his cock so smoothly that you want to fucking die.
You know what you’re doing, having had plenty of experience riding Taehyung in the past. It’s different this time, of course. Jimin never takes his eyes off yours as you bounce on his cock. His hands squeeze your hips to guide you up and down his cock, encouraging you to lift until only the head of his cock is nestled in your pussy before sliding back down his entire length. You’re so wet that Jimin’s thighs glisten with your arousal, as do yours. 
“You’re gorgeous,” Jimin says with a soft smile. 
“Oh my god,” you squeeze his shoulders as you rock against him, “You’re, you’re cuter.” 
“Whatever you say, baby.” Jimin rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to your forehead. 
He’s so cute, even as your pussy sucks in his cock and clenches around it. How is it possible for him to seem so innocent in a moment like this? It makes your heart swell with a love you’re worried you’ll never be able to fully articulate to the precious boy beneath you. 
“Feels good,” you moan against his mouth when you lean forward to kiss him. “I’m gonna cum already.” 
Jimin sucks your bottom lip at the same time he slips his hand between your bodies to start rubbing your clit. The two points of pleasure cause you to slump forward, but luckily, Jimin takes over. He thrusts into with swift, strong movements, never stuttering even when you can tell that he’s nearing his orgasm, as well. 
There’s no shame in not lasting very long. You’re both a little bit drunk and extremely horny. The buildup to this moment is almost a climax all on its own. Neither of you can be blamed for how frantically you claw at each other and do your best to grind against each other’s bodies as hard and fast as you can. 
“Come on, baby,” Jimin groans into the crook of your neck as he fucks you. “We can cum together, okay? Let go for me so we can make each other feel good.” 
“Oh, Jimin, y-yes, fuck, okay.” You nod your head and pant your words against the curve of his ear. Needing something to hold onto, you dig your fingers into Jimin’s hair. 
Jimin always knows the right things to say and finds a way to ease your stress and ground you. He talks you through your orgasm and holds you close as you cum. It’s erotic, but it feels gentle and intimate. Rather than dirty talk, it feels sweeter and more caring. 
Even when Jimin finds his release, coming in you with a brutal grip on your waist, he whispers soft words of gratitude because he sees fucking you as a privilege – not a challenge to be won. 
When it’s over, you melt into Jimin’s embrace, chest to chest, with your head resting against his shoulder. You’re both sweaty and sticky, but it doesn’t matter. All you want to do is be close and be held. 
“How are you doing?” 
You nod, unable to find the words to express how utterly content you feel. Not just content – you feel cared for, even when all you’ve done is fuck. It’s different with Jimin. It’s gentle. It means something. 
“Did the tie help?” he asks, curious and wanting to have done a good job coloring his tone. It’s sweet, just like all of Jimin. 
“It did,” you finally speak up. Turning your head to the side, you press your lips against Jimin’s neck and speak to his warm skin. “It helped me get out of my head, so all I focused on was you and how you made me feel.” 
“Good?”
You smile with your eyes closed when you feel him kiss your forehead. “You always make me feel good.” 
Jimin squeezes you in his arms, content with humming a happy reply against the top of your head. No other words need to be said; for now, the two of you bask in the warmth you bring each other and know that whatever the morning brings, you’ll always have safe arms to fall back into. 
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Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.
All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.
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weasleyreidstyles · 6 months
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Serendipity Headcannons; Mattheo Riddle
series masterlist
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A glimpse into our main boy's life leading up to sixth year (where Serendipity kicks off) – eventually going to do them for each character (the ones who are a constant in the series), except meadow since that's more reader-centric but let me know who i should do next (this is me putting off writing chapter 17 because its making me want to rip out my hair)
It actually ended up being so long (i got carried away) that i'll have to do a separate post for the nsfw😏 hcs that i also wrote down - if that's something that people want to see of course
warning(s): cannonical violence, mentions of parental death, menions of torture and abuse (tried to make this as mild as possible), allusions to self harm (literally one bullet point), mentions of blood supremacy/cannonical pureblood madness, mentions of alcohol consumption/drug use, mentions of being sick (sorry fellow emetaphobes), allusions to an ED
Obviously he's Voldemort's son (its a known fact; when his name was called shortly after Harry's during the Sorting Ceremony, people immediately began to fear him for his last name – avoided him in corridors and older students were horrible to him)
His mother died when he was born, so he never got to meet her. But she had loved Tom Riddle with all her heart, despite knowing what kind of person he was (I like the tom hughes fancast for an older version of him – TikTok editors have me influenced)
When he failed to kill baby Harry, Theodore Nott's mum took it upon herself to care for Mattheo (who was only several months older than Harry at the time) – she was close friends with Matt's mum
They may not be related by blood, but Matt considers Theo to be his brother as well as his best friend
Mattheo's childhood (up until he was eight) was relatively acquiescent, but obviously being the heir to the Dark Lord comes with its own traumas – he was plagued with nightmares he swears were real conversations with his father
When Theo's mum died, his father wasn't the nicest to either of the boys; they both grew to resent him – the man either ignored them, shouted at them or beat them senselessly (to build character)
They had a Governess in the years after Theo's mum died, so that they'd be well ahead of their peers once they got to Hogwarts - also a way to keep them out of Theo Nott Senior's way
During his sorting, the hat immediately placed him in Slytherin, but it wasn't as quick to choose, like it was with Draco or Blaise.
Harry had unconsciously made him public enemy number one when he found out who he was (I mean his dad did kill Harry's parents so) as well as Draco and co
Mattheo doesn't believe in the blood supremacy that is spouted around pureblood families – has never used 'mudblood' to insult anyone (draco take notes fr) – but thats only due to theo's mother and the way she raised her boys – also it would be so hypocritical because he's a halfblood (i think, idk the twisted lore of purebloods too deeply)
Professor Quirrell took a particular interest towards Mattheo (his dad was literally playing house on the back of the guys head)
He found out that Quirrell was Voldemort (?) pretty quickly when the Dark Mark was burned onto his left forearm – something that continuously happened in his nightmares so he thought he was in one when it happened
Partly why he didn't say anything – he was also weary that no one would believe him
He tried everything to get it off his skin – burning, scratching, spelling, even carving it out, but nothing worked. The Dark Mark was engraved onto his arm like it had buried itself within the very cell structure of his skin
He didn't gain as much attention as Harry did in first year. He went practically under the rader after the first couple of months, only interacting with his small group of friends (Theo, Draco, Blaise, Enzo and Pansy) and competing for the top academic spot in class – when Theo's father found out that both boys were being beaten for first place by a muggleborn (go Hermione!), he used the cruciatus curse on both of them - moreso on Theo :(
Second year was a completely different story however
When the Chamber of Secrets opened, people whispered that he could be the heir of Slytherin (because his father is literally Voldemort so technically they weren't wrong) and he didn't go as unnoticed as before
He developed a thick skin towards the insults and returned them with steely looks that sent people scurrying the other way
He began physically fighting some people when his restraint snapped at times though – he didn't have a way to relieve the tension from all the agression at this point
The only people who spoke to him with no fear were his friends
When the first student was petrified, he was brought into Dumbledore's office for questioning
During the dueling session, he watched in awe as Harry spoke to the snake but didn't dare say a word
He was the only one in his group that didn't bad mouth Harry at this time or call him the 'heir of Slytherin'
He's actually really smart (not at Ancient Runes though lol) and is among one of Professor Flitwick's favourite students
When Harry and Ron posed as Crabbe and Goyle you (Meadow) had posed as Pansy and he had thought it was strange to see her with the two of them, but she had a small crush on Draco in first and second year so he brushed it off as her trying to impress his friend
But he knew it wasn't her when Draco had mentioned Hermione (calling her a mudblood) and 'Pansy' had gone deathly still
He's been skilled at Occlimency for as long as he can remember, as has Theo. But Mattheo has a certain affinity (he calls it a curse) for hearing people thoughts without even uttering the spell – also why he's so good at preventing people like Dumbledore from using it on him
Wasn't aware of his father's diary being used to lure Harry to the Chamber of Secrets, but at one point he heard the whispers in the pipes and vehemently ignored it until it eventually stopped (big mistake, cus voldy holds grudges very well)
Once Ginny was rescued from the Chamber, he felt incredibly guilty even though he literally had no control of the situation – sent her an 'anonymous' gift basket as an apology (he knew it would never make up for what happened to her, but he hoped it would at least make her smile) – it did, she thought it was a gift from dumbledore though
One of the only times he was even a little kind to the Golden Trio and their friends
The summer after second year was hellish for him and Theo
The basilisk was obviously meant to kill Harry so Theo Nott Senior was angry that his master's big plan had failed (2 years running🤝)
Third year was more mild than the last (thank God, honestly)
Mattheo had made it onto the quidditch team now that half of them had left the year before
He's a beater and proud of it – lets out all that pent up agression on the field, which makes him one of the best in his house (dare i say whole school🤭)
Quidditch became his whole personality basically (he's a teenage boy duh – it's like the football obsessed idiots in the pub levels) and he came to love the attention it brought him – he was starting to be noticed by girls outside Slytherin and making enemies with the rival players
He decided then that he wanted to play quidditch professionally in the future – he would not be caught dead behind a desk in the Ministry (they probably wouldn't hire hom anyway, simply because he's a Riddle)
Because he was on the team, he was invited to more parties which he also enjoyed – the man can drink!
But he wasn't one to jump around like a madman like some people he saw at the parties. He and his friends (those on the team – Theo, Blaise and Draco) would sit around the sofas and play drinking games with others who were sat down – including you and some of your housemates at times – but never the Gryffindors
Sirius Black was on the loose which took the pressure of being Tom Riddle's son off his shoulders somewhat – no one actually dared to fuck with Mattheo now that he was a beater either
Buckbeak took a liking to him, surprisingly, as did the thestrals that only he, Theo and so few others could see
The dementors affected him as much as they affected Harry – he could hear his own mother's cries
During the boggart lesson, he was apprehensive of what he would see – would he see what he sees in his most horrifying nightmares? Or would it be something as trivial as a grindilow or something?
Safe to say he was glad that Professor Lupin stopped the lesson after Harry's turned into the dementor
Speaking of dementors, one of the only spells he cannot cast is the Patronus Charm – even his happiest memories are not strong enough to envoke the magic
People thought he helped Sirius into the castle at one point (absurd, i know)
He and Harry got into some arguments at times – Mattheo liked to provoke him for the fun of it, mostly so that competition on the quidditch field was filled with extra tension, but also because Harry and Ron are dickheads who like to talk shit about him and his friends (hypocrites because the Slytherins literally do the same thing lol)
This is the point where you're on his radar a bit more frequently – you, Ron and Hermione went to Hogsmeade a lot and were frequently in the same places as Mattheo and his friends
He does not like you at all, partly for the fact that you follow Harry and Dumbledore so blindly but also – you are one of the reasons he and theo get so much stick at home, along with hermione being top of the class, you are as well so he grows to resent you a little
He's always there when you're yelling at anyone who says something against your friends (usually Crabbe or Goyle – our mortal enemies fr)
When Sirius escaped the dementors people genuinely thought he helped (again, absurd i know)
Moving onto fourth year...he went to the Quidditch World Cup with Theo and Nott Senior disappeared after the match ended and festivities began
We all know what happened but when the Dark Mark appeared in the sky, Theo, Draco and Mattheo all looked at it in absolute horror, having heard the harrowing stories first hand from their families
Mattheo had a panic attack at the thought of his father returning – after the run in with him in first year, he's been certain that Voldemort isn't really dead, and this confirms it for him (because why the fuck would his father's mark appear out of nowhere?)
Because of that, the school year is off to a great start
He gets into fights left, right and centre – especially since quidditch has been cancelled in favour of hosting the Triwizard Tournament (i've obviously aged up the characters but lets pretend the age limit still exists in some capacity)
The Durmstrang students practically worshipped the ground he walked on – which was ego boosting to start with, but Mattheo quickly grew irritated by their constant infatuation with him – especially Karkaroff who always compared him to the great Tom Riddle or the 'Dark Lord' interchangeably
Whenever Professor Moody stared at him for too long, he got an odd sensation on his left forearm, where the mark sits, like spiders were scurrying and crawling around – he decides after the very first DADA lesson (unforgivable curses) that he did not like this professor.
There was just something off about him, but Mattheo couldn't quite figure out what – foolishly tried Occlimency but obviously it didn't work on the most infamous auror
Wasn't even surprised when Harry's name came out of the Goblet – he is coined 'Saint Potter' by the friendgroup (started of course by Draco)
He and Theo snuck out to the forbidden forest to see the dragons up close before the first task – almost got caught by Charlie Weasley, had Hagrid and Harry not showed up with Madame Maxine mere moments before he could spot them
He took a random girl from Beauxbatons to the Yule Ball because he did not want to deal with the hassle of Hogwarts gossip – but everyone gossiped about it anyway (busybodies)
Rumours went around about the two of them (you know like how Snape caught two people in the carriage🤭)
At this point, you were just his arch nemesis' best friend so you were not fully on his radar past sneering comments and jibes, but a small part of him can admit that you looked beautiful in your glittering dress (think Feyre starfall dress vibes)
The rest of the year went by uneventfully – he got on with his school work and remained one of the top of class except in Ancient Runes which theo tried to tutor him in....unsuccessfully
In the months leading up to the third task, Mattheo noticed Moody's skittish behaviour (also Karkaroff and weirdly...Snape) especially after Crouch was found murdered in the Forbidden Forest after the second task
On the day of the first task, he had the worst gut feeling he's ever felt – bigger than the day he found out that his surrogate mother had died
Sitting in the stands with his friends, near the back of the stadium, his arm begins to burn so painfully that he has to fight physically crying out at the crippling pain (Voldemort just got resurrected as a noseless alien)
Excuses himself to his friends' utter confusion and concern – Theo stops Pansy from running after him, letting him have space, somehow just knowing what Matt's sudden departure meant (he saw Mattheo cradle his left arm while he walked away)
Just before Mattheo walks through the exit, Harry apparates back with the trophy (portkey) and Cedric's dead body beneath him screaming that "Voldemort's back!"
He couldn't hold back the contents of his stomach at the statement because he knew it was true. He just knew it deep in his bones.
He had to hide behind the bleachers of the quidditch pitch while everyone was stampeding to leave, where he just sobbed and sobbed because he knew then what his future would be.
Theo found him an hour later and together they mourned for the future Mattheo had desperately always wanted
That summer was the worst he's ever experienced to date.
He met this snake-like version of his father, his only other memories being of a handsome man (Tom Hughes vibes) not whatever this thing was.
His father thanked Theo Nott Senior personally for taking such good care of his heir – this was such an ego boost for that horrid man
Mattheo was tortured into the perfect soldier that summer – tasked with training other Slytherins/purebloods into the regime
Its not very discernable but if his hands are still for long enough, they begin to shake unconsciously due to just how many times Voldemort used the cruciatus curse on him
His nightmares had become a reality that summer – he no longer slept, and only ate when Draco had to force him to
There was one silver lining at least
No one believed Harry Potter.
So Voldemort's army grew exponentially in secret, as did their knowledge of certain prophecies
We know that Professor Trelawney had the vision but Voldemort has a seer of his own – who made him aware of the order being in possession of a siphon but not able to say who it is (its meadow of course🤪🤪🤪)
His fifth year marked the start of the war, even if the otherside didn't know it just yet
At school, Harry started many explosive arguments with him, that he admittedly fed into a little bit out of pure amusement
His stoic facade was ever present this year. Not an expression painted his handsome face in the public eye. Rarely did anyone catch a glimmer of joy in those onyx eyes.
It was around this time, when he discovered that Harry was being taught Occlimency that you were doing some studying of your own
He heard the soft whisper of your thoughts in his head – a pleasant sound – mumbling little bits and pieces about the art, as if you were revising them over and over like a broken record
He knew you were Theo's patrol partner because Theo would not stop complaining about having to deal with one of Saint Potter's loyal followers (the two of you did not speak for 5 whole patrol sessions – lets say between September and November)
Thats when the idea sprang
Admittedly it started out as a way to satisfy his curiosity
He wanted to know why you were learning Occlimency and actually doing surprisingly well, despite not having someone to actively practice it on/with you, while Potter was not taking it seriously at all
So he asked Theo to try and befriend you – when asked why, he explained that he was curious and wanted to know if he hunch he had was right – his gut feelings are almost never wrong
Theo begins his task of slowly befriending you and relaying anything remotely important to Mattheo – no progress at first, until the two of you happen to bond over your hatred for the new DADA professor
He joins the Inquisitorial Squad because Theo's father wanted him to, and by extension said that the Dark Lord wanted his son to set an example too (lets not forget, in his prime Tom was literally the smartest in the school – was definitely head boy as well as an academic weapon)
This is how he finds out what Umbridge's detentions truly entailed
Speaking of Umbridge (she deserves her own tw actually), she had shown particular favouritism towards Mattheo and his friends, to anyone who was against Harry, really – never gave them detentions and let them off easily, even defended Mattheo's honour against Harry's 'heinous' accusations
But back to the detentions – both he and Theo found out about the blood quill around the same time
He was waiting for Theo to finish patrols so they could go smoke in the Astronomy Tower, when he overheard Umbridge talking to the two of you
Well actually she was talking to you – because apparently it was now against the rules for prefects to walk around past curfew (even though thats their literal role?) and she gave you a detention for it
When you asked why in Merlin's name Theo wasn't being treated the same, she said it's because he's on the Inquisitorial Squad and was therefore exempt from her detentions
You had detention the next day and did not show up to your next few patrols, but Mattheo saw the hints of a glamour covering your non-dominant hand (he would know because he's had a glamour over his scarred forearm for years)
Theo told him that you refused to admit that something was wrong - you hadn't even told your friends about whatever was bothering you
They found out by chance – a first year that had gotten lost was cradling their hand and the boys saw the words of the boy's own scrawl etched harshly into the flesh of his hand
When Matt was observing you in the library one day (happenstance, he's not a stalker lol), he was deducing how far along you were with Occlimency but found that you winced and held your head when he actively tried to enter your mind – not good for how long you'd been teaching yourself the art
So he gets Theo to talk to you mentally and the first time it happens is actually comical – you drop the contents of your potions incredients onto the floor out of shock before you whack Theo across the head with your hardbacked potions textbook
That's really how the two of you became friends, your friendship with Pansy following soon after
Now you're slowly building up the tolerance for Occlimency with a little help from a friend
Leading up to Christmas, the mark burns wickedly against his skin at all hours of the day
Then Arthur Weasley is attacked and Mattheo is surprised that no Weasley has come to deck him in the face for simply being Voldemort's son
Obviously no one does because everyone (barring you and Hermione) have been swept away to 12 Grimmauld Place
After Christmas he does get decked – George sends a bludger his way that most definitely had the power to break his entire arm (and definitely a few ribs); after the abysmal Christmas break he's had, he's almost tempted to let it happen – but his beater instincts kick in and he's pelting the bludger and all its momentous energy towards one of Gryffindor's chasers instead
His Dark Mark burns every time his father fails to retrieve his and Harry's prophecy
He begins to suspect that you are the siphoner when you perform wandless magic like its a second nature during breakfast one morning (you're using your magic to flip through the pages of your book, while you leisurely sip coffee, probably awaiting Granger's arrival)
His suspicions are more than confirmed when your magic seems to literally pulse like your pulling more of it from the air – it's almost indiscernible, but if he paid attention, he could see the symphonic ripple of your magic and the Great Hall's magic mingling in the air (and he knows Dumbledore can see it too)
He explains this to Theo without telling him so much that'll get him involved with what knowing this will mean for his brother
He passes all his O.W.Ls with a plethora Outstanding and Exceeds Expectations grades, except for Ancient Runes where he gets a mere Acceptable (which somehow still allows him to retake the class in his N.E.W.Ts options, funnily enough)
What's not funny is Voldemort's reaction to this anomaly of a result :(
Lets rewind to june 18th (aka battle of department of mysteries; RIP Sirius Black you icon, you legend)
The DA have just been busted (like two weeks/a week prior to the date above) and you're all in detention writing out the line "I must not disobey the Ministry" over and over again – to the point where it has become a permanent scar that you see everyday
Exams are happening and Harry has just been delivered a vision by Voldemort (he just passed out in a DADA exam🫣)
Saint Potter and his band of followers try to break into Umbrige's office and fail exponentially
The Inquisitorial Squad catch you all in the act of guarding the corridor outside her office while Harry, Ron and Hermione try and contact Sirius
You're all trapped in the office and everyone (including the Inquisitorial Squad) is shocked when she goes to cast the cruciatus on Potter – internally Matt is cringing and fighting the instinctive flinch
"You can't do that! It's illegal!" Your defence of harry is ignored as Umbridge puts Fudge picture face down – Matt swears your eyes burn a violent indigo, but it's gone in a blink
Hermione and Harry end up taking her to where 'Dumbledore's secret weapon' is and you lot are now all stuck with the Inquisitorial Squad
Theo actually only holds you loosely, and he's the same with Ginny – not forcefully holding her, but also not allowing her to break free at the same time
Crabbe and Goyle take Ron's bate and eat the Puking Pastilles from the Weasley twins' personal collection and you all escape
Then the battle eventually takes place and everyone knows that Voldemort truly has returned
Now onto the current timeline of Serendipity!!
Mattheo decides over summer that he wants to help the otherside desperately
Especially because Draco is now a Death Eater
And Enzo and Theo are set to become Death Eaters the following Christmas – punishment for what happened during the battle in June
Proposes the idea that he teach you Occlimency in exchange for you helping them get out – the group agrees and Theo and Pansy set out to persude you to help
Roll on the Serendipity plot where he slowly begins to actually care about you (scary feelings; unknown territory)
He's never felt this strongly about someone before, not in the way he feels about you
At first he enjoyed how infuriated you became with him; he also despised how many questions you would ask (but that was your nature and he grew accustomed to it)
You're the only one whose ever called him Théo, after the death of Theo's mother, the name was as good as dead to him, until you started calling him it – he never wanted you to stop
The feelings you invoke in him are what finally allow him to produce a full patronus – when the majestic form of a Hippogriff bursts from the tip of his wand, swirling and spiralling at the thought of you, he let out a genuine laugh
He's so soft for you – his persona changes in the blink of an eye at times – from cruel and brooding to gentle and compassionate
His friends have never seen him happier – admittedly were surprised to learn of your relationship, but when they watched the way the two of you interacted after you'd become a pariah to your old friends, they understood.
Mattheo is so protective of all his friends, and somehow he's even more protective of you – he had wanted to incinerate Harry and Ron on the spot for how they'd made you feel, but knew you would never forgive him for it, despite how badly they'd hurt you
He'd burn the world down if it meant you'd be safe, especially because you had the one power that his father desired to have in his ever growing arsenal
Mattheo always has to be touching you in some way (he's a physical touch kind of guy), whether that be a hand on your thigh when you're seated; an arm wrapped around you as you walk; interlocking pinkies, etc. He just loves feeling you near him.
You're such a typical Slytherin/Ravenclaw couple – your intellect amazing him all the time, and he's no longer miffed that you always beat him for a spot at the top in class – his ambitions and adamant loyalty are something that you admire dearly, and hold close to your heart
You both know without having to voice it that your love is unconditional and eternal. Its a love as rare as your magic.
~∞~
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stealingyourbones · 3 months
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Question! I have been getting into DC comics cuz of dpxdc, and I saw your tags on frank Miller on a recent post. One of my irl friends told me to read the dark knight returns and while it was occasionally hard to follow I assumed that was a result of when it was written rather than who wrote it? But I did overall enjoy it.
I guess what I'm asking is why you say frank Miller is a bad writer when it seems like the dark knight returns was so acclaimed?
(I saw the nazi thing too but that's something I can google so while it's news to me it's not my main question)
ok so. A lot of this is my personal opinion and I'm not too equipped to say shit about this because I'm not very political but I'm going to give it my best shot. Put under a cut so folks who don't want to hear about comic ranting can simply scroll past
I’m just gonna write a quick thing for the Nazi stuff, He isn't exactly a Nazi but boy oh boY does he set off many warning flags. Frank Miller is also the writer of the comic 300, if that sounds familiar that's because the movie you're probably thinking of is indeed based off these comics. The Spartan's ideology helped create the baselines of Fascism. Fascism is a pretty leading cause of commentary in Frank Millers work. In Batman: The Dark Knight he is a fascist. In Hard Boiled there's swastikas in the background every so often. (I even went back to reread it just to make sure and yep. they definitely were there) In 300 there's a shitton of Fascism... I could go on but still. His comics are incredibly gorey, have a discussion about a world gone wrong that can only be changed using force and weaponry (the whole Dark Knight "I am a surgeon" monologue for example), and the fact that he has Fascism as the main point of nearly all of the comics he's written... it doesn't sit right with me and it's a consistent pattern.
Now, onto the bad writing. I must firstly preface that these are my own opinions and that I didn't grow up reading Frank Miller's work. I think he was a good writer but isn't one anymore. His writing did incredible things for DC and you can see his influence in Batman even today. Works I've read and enjoyed of his are: Daredevil, Batman Year One, and Dark Knight. Nowadays you'll see many folks like myself talk about how Frank Miller has fallen off the deep end. A vast majority of Frank Miller's comics have reoccurring themes: politics, fascism, extreme violence, and so so much weaponry. Politics is in every comic book. There is no unpolitical comic, there ARE comics that are batshit wild with their politics and that's what I'm talking about. I'll get back to this later. He wrote many good comics, ones that first come to mind are Daredevil , Wolverine, Batman: Dark Knight, Batman: Year One, Sin City, Ronin, and 300. All of these comics are still credited by folks as amazing comics and hell, I recommend folks to read them go and check them out. Then 9/11 happened. That along with rampant alcoholism. Those reoccurring themes I mentioned? They become exponentially more blatant in his works. Especially on the political angle. You can see the difference between his works from pre and post 9/11. If you read Dark Knight and Dark Knight 2 back to back. It's night and day. He even made a comic during the post 9/11 panic called Holy Terror. The comic's title was originally pitched as Holy Terror, Batman! with the Gotham hero himself as the main character but it swiftly denied by DC, denied being published by DC, and changed to what it is now. The basic plot of this comic: A Vigilante named The Fixer fights Al-Qaeda after attacking Empire City. He doesn't even mention the word Al-Qaeda until 80 pages into a 150 page comic. The comic is some INCREDIBLY blatant post 9/11 propaganda that's ridiculously Islamophobic and anti-muslim. That isn't even my opinion, Frank Miller has said that's what this comic was. It is scattered with a ridiculous amount of hate speech written by a hate fueled man in 2007. Now onto comics that you'd more likely read. All Star Batman and Robin (2005). Oh boy. Let's compare shall we? Batman Dark Knight Returns (1986)
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All Star Batman & Robin, The Boy Wonder #1 (2005)
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mind you this is as Dick is being driven to GCPD for questioning RIGHT AFTER HIS PARENTS DIED. He gets kidnapped by Bruce out of the police car. Not calmed in his arms after the murder and brought to the manor. Kidnapped. All Star Batman & Robin, The Boy Wonder #2 (2005)
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( a brief intermission of this sickass pose of a shirtless Alfred Pennyworth comforting Vicky Vale)
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now back to the kidnapping:
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[Skipping Bruce getting chased by the GCPD, Jumping the Batmobile ONTOP of a GCPD car, and laughing and talking to his car all the while Dick is absolutely terrified. They then use boosters that propel the Batmobile into the sky.]
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Smashcut to #4 where they actually enter the Batcave.
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I don't even think I need to explain myself. This is Spider-Man: One More Day levels of mischaracterization. Like seriously. Bruce kidnapping Dick after his parents were killed? Calling him a retard and hitting him during the aftermath (we can go on about how in 2005, the r slur was used commonly but this was just out of pocket), Leaving him in the cold batcave and told to eat rats? Frank Miller used to write some incredible works. Nowadays his writing is as decent as Rob Liefeld's art.
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spikedfearn · 10 days
Text
I Said Just a Little Bit, Then I Got a Taste of It
Chapter II
bjorn x fem!reader
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summary: After being transferred to another sector of Jackson's Star you reluctantly befriend a ragtag group of people with the exception of one cocky asshole who knows just how to get under your skin.
On the surface, you hate each other, but after experiencing a particularly harrowing event together, the two of you grow closer than anyone else could ever imagine.
warnings: secret friends with benefits, enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol/drug use, sexual themes, non-linear narrative, side rainkay, trauma bonding, near death experience, brief mention of child abuse, more tags to be added
a/n: a slight correction from the first chapter: I realized after I posted that I wrote Kay being under the influence when she runs after you when she is, in fact, pregnant in this au. I don't know how I whiffed that up when it's a relevant plot point to the story (ᅲ﹏ᅲ) either way though, I went back and edited the chapter but just in case anyone following this story didn't reread it after I made the changes, I wanted to put a disclaimer here!
tags: @asvtrials
wc: 3.3k
Masterlist Next Chapter
You remember the night the two of you first met with a stunning amount of clarity.
It took place a few weeks after your compulsory transfer, a result of the mines in sector two having been exhausted of all its valuable resources, the higher-ups deciding to split the colonists inhabiting it among the other five.
Truthfully, you still don't know how to feel about it. Sure, it sucks being uprooted from the only home you've ever known, forced to live in an alien environment, even if it is just another extension of the same colony.
But, on the other hand, it's sorta nice—starting over. Being relocated to somewhere no one knows you, your story. Able to shed your baggage and leave it behind, only bringing with the clothes on your back and the dog tags of your late mother, the only things that truly matter to you.
You're nearing the end of another one of your shifts, sweat gathered in the folds and creases of your body, watching sparks fly off the hard mineral you're drilling into when the girl next to you yanks down her face shield, narrowly turning away from the rock wall to bend over and vomit in the walkway instead.
It’s not unusual for people to get sick while working, the conditions down here are hazardous and the safety equipment provided does little to protect you from the harsh fumes and kicked-up debris. Still, you sympathize, knowing firsthand how miserable it is to try and push through til clock out time.
However the supervisors do not, one of the men patrolling the area to ensure endless labor shouting, “worker #1693! Why have you stopped working?”
The girl lifts her head in response to being reprimanded, the headlamp strapped to her hard hat illuminating the man looming over her, the head of the drill she was still holding stabbed into the soft earth beneath their feet, using it like an impromptu crutch.
“I'm sorry sir,” she coughs, voice rough from the stomach acid and bile she just spewed everywhere, “it's morning sickness—I'm pregnant.”
A wave of compassion comes crashing down over you, everyone else in the immediate vicinity paying no mind as they continue to excavate, wanting to avoid a scolding of their own. Not that you can blame any of them, insubordination at best results in hours lost and at worst, an automatic jail sentence, the only place somehow worse than the mines.
You want to turn a blind eye like the others but—you can't, feeling guilt gnaw at your conscience. Even in the limited light you can tell she's sick, skin pale and glistening with a fresh coat of sweat, chest spasming as she doubles back over and starts to dry heave.
“Well get back to it, we have a quota to fill!” He orders, growing increasingly agitated.
Almost instantly you find the words, “how long do you have left?” leaving your mouth before you can process what you're saying, watching as she looks back to find you.
“What was that?” She asks, using the back of her wrist to wipe the string of spit hanging from her lip, looking so small and so vulnerable, like she's on the verge of passing out. It's enough to make you commit to what you say next.
Pushing the goggles up and over your helmet and the face shield down and away your mouth to unmuffle your voice you repeat, “how long do you have left? Like—how many hours?”
“Four?” She answers, confused, the same supervisor that had warned her moments ago barking, “worker #1251, why aren't you working?!” The threatening buzz of a shock stick now being aimed towards you.
Four hours. You're in the last hour of your own shift, bone-tired and barely hanging on, adding another four after the fact might actually kill you.
With that in mind you find yourself volunteering, looking between her and the guard ready to taze the fuck out of both of you, “I can pick up her hours. Sir.” You tack on, albeit sarcastically.
Her eyes round out in surprise before the skin between her eyebrows wrinkle in confusion, understandably so. It's incredibly rare for a stranger to show humanity in a hellscape like this, where it's every man for himself.
“Why?” She asks, straightening her back out, hand coming up to cup her still flat stomach.
You shrug despite knowing exactly why, not that you'd share that with a complete stranger, replying, “don't worry about it,” before offering, “because I want to,” instead, hoping to avoid any follow up questions.
A pretty smile breaks out across her face, so big her eyes nearly disappear, turning the headlamp attached to her helmet off to get a proper look at you, “thank you so much. Really. I totally owe you one.”
“Sure,” you say, not intending to cash in on that favor at all. You don't want to owe anyone anything or them to owe you.
It's a dangerous thing—caring about someone or something on Jackson's Star. One of the only valuable lessons life in the colony has taught you. Better to lessen the weight of the emotional impact when they inevitably leave. Easier.
Your eyes follow her as she walks the path leading towards the exit, a cute little skip in her step. You can't help but smile, the muscles in your cheeks twitching at the foreign stretch of your mouth. You don't remember the last time you felt one of those on your lips.
The extra time doesn't end up killing you—which sucks, it could've been your ticket out of here.
Morbid humor aside, you can barely move as you head to the clock out station, summoning the last bit of strength you have to heave the drill up on top of the counter, ignoring the loud clang it makes when it hits the metal countertop. If they wanna dock you for the damage fine, you can't find it in you to give a fuck at the moment.
The lady behind the transparent partition checks your equipment back in, the clacking of the keys sounding loud without the constant drilling, being the last miner to leave.
“Worker #1251. Drill returned, no visible damage to report. Twenty hours logged.”
“Wait,” you interrupt, her fingers pausing above the keyboard, eyes still glued to the computer screen, “the four hours. Could you give them to the girl I covered for?”
She looks at you then, like you're high on the fumes circulating through the tunnels. Maybe you are, because who just volunteers to do hard labor? And for free? That and you still have to come back and clock in four hours from now.
“Are you sure?”
Though you don't hesitate to nod before verbalizing, “yeah,” your thoughts straying to the baby she's growing inside of her, “she’s gonna need the hours more than I do.”
It'll be the last nice thing you'll ever do, because you're never doing that shit again, offering to cover for someone else, for someone you don't even know.
Except—you do.
Because the morning sickness doesn't go away for the next two weeks, no matter how little she eats to try and combat it. And, regardless of the front you put on, you have a heart. A heart and a motive, one you plan to keep close to the chest whenever you step up and tell whatever supervisor nearby that you'll take on her workload only to transfer the hours to her at the end of the night.
Her name is Kay. You learn that after the third shift you cover for her when she comes up to you during everyone's designated lunch break, taking a seat on the bench next to you, far away from the others eating together.
You're reluctant to give her yours, preferring to just be a faceless number among the crowd, because knowing each other's names means familiarity, and familiarity means attachment. And you never intended for that to happen, wanting to just keep to yourself after the transfer but Kay looks a little crushed when you don't give it to her the first time she asks so, eventually, you do.
It's fine. It's just your name. This doesn't have to mean anything.
Except—it does.
Opens the door for Kay to start joining you for lunch, to stand next to you while you're working, to start asking you about yourself, wanting to befriend the angel that's come to her rescue the last few weeks. Her words, not yours.
You don't disclose much, keeping your past private the only thing keeping you safe from heartache. From that type of overwhelmingly raw pain only loss can bring and, while you've done your absolute best to pick up the pieces, you'll never be the same.
Shattered glass can be put back together but the cracks will always, always remain.
Kay seems to pick up on it because she doesn't broach the subject again, choosing to redirect her energy by trying to convince you to come hang out with her and her friends instead.
You reject her offer every time she asks, giving out your name is one thing, socializing outside of the mines is something else entirely, but Kay is persistent, annoyingly so. Begs you to come out for just one drink whenever you guys have downtime at work, giving you the puppy dog eyes while she does it, whining and stamping her foot when you inevitably turn her down.
You're sitting together during lunch one day, on the little metal bench you claimed the first night you started working in sector six, eating the same boring sandwich you make before the start of every shift.
However, for the first time in a long time, you feel good today, well-rested, chalking it up to not covering Kay’s shifts over the last three days.
She's roughly two months along and no longer vomiting on the job site, able to work her full shifts for the last seventy two hours, the worst of the morning sickness seemingly over. You're glad she's finally feeling better, and, if you're honest, a little relieved.
Not that Kay ever expected you to cover for her, you know her well enough now to realize that, can noticeably see the gratitude she radiates every time you volunteered, but you would've kept doing it, even if she stayed sick for the remainder of her pregnancy.
“Sooo,” Kay starts, drawing out the o, playing with the bendy straw sticking out of her apple juice box, “the gang and I are gonna hit up a bar tonight.”
“Cool,” you mutter, already seeing where this is going. It's the same tactic she's used the last dozen or so times she's invited you out. “Have fun.”
Kay pouts, her eyes big and pleading, “you should come with, it'll be fun. I'll even buy you a drink so I can properly thank you for easing my stress for a little while.”
“You don't have to thank me Kay,” you reply between bites of bologna, “I didn't do it for free beer.” A chuckle following after.
“C’moooon,” Kay bemoans, wiggling her shoulders for emphasis, “stop being such a buzzkill.”
“Can’t. That's who I am, Captain Buzzkill.” Your words slightly muffled by a napkin you use to wipe your mouth clean once you finish eating, crumpling it up along with the cellophane and brown paper bag you brought your sandwich in.
“Why are you the most stubborn person alive?” She whines, chucking her now empty juice box into a nearby waste bin.
“That’s probably not true.”
“Well you're up there! Now please just come out with us tonight. For me. And if you really don't have a good time I'll never ask again.”
“Never?” You ask, feeling your resolve slowly eroding away.
Her eyes glisten with newfound hope, nodding her head enthusiastically, “never ever.”
“Fine,” you relent, “but just one.”
If this is what it takes for her to stop bugging you about it you'll do it, just this once. Besides, you can slam a beer pretty quick if you're dead set on it.
You smile and roll your eyes at the squeal she makes, her arms wrapping around you to reel you in towards her chest, hands settling on your bicep, one on top of the other, her fingers creating wrinkles in the fabric of your shirt sleeve from how tight she's hugging you.
You awkwardly pat her forearm, not used to receiving affection, “but just one,” you reiterate. If you're gonna do this you're gonna do it on your terms and your terms only.
“Just one,” she echoes, rocking the two of you back and forth, the whistle of the horn above you signaling the end of your lunch break.
One turns into three.
You had every intention to leave after the first but, as much as you hate to admit it, you are having a good time.
Kay’s friends are cool, nice, having welcomed you in with ease, like they’ve known you for a while. In a way they do, Kay having told them about you, what you did for her. You don't think it's a big deal but they seem to think so, what with the warmth they show you from the outset.
“So you're the angel that's been helping my little sis out!” Tyler, Kay’s older brother, greets you cheerfully, pupils dilated from the alcohol, having already started without you, not that you actually care. “A proper little mutha’ Theresa in our midst!”
You snort at that, waving him off, “not really. She's pregnant. I'm not so, I thought I'd just help her out.”
“Well it's really sweet,” Rain chimes in, more reserved than the others, preferring to let everyone else talk. You can already tell the two of you will get along. “Which is pretty rare to find around here.”
Besides Tyler and Rain, there's Rain’s brother Andy and their friend Navarro. Andy, like Rain, is also on the quiet side, the programming he has installed a little outdated. Though Navarro, the resident techxpert, is working on an upgrade, building a chip out of scrap metal and wiring, she scavenges from the local scrapyard.
You're all crowded around one of the dozen or so tables taking up half the floor, the bar brimming with other colonists, knocking back beers or playing darts, the room filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter blending together. It's not a place you would choose to go on your own but it does add another layer of entertainment when you're with the right people.
“I guess,” you reply, cautiously agreeing with Rain, even though you know she's more than correct. It's just hard for you to accept compliments, you're just not used to hearing them and don't think very highly of yourself to begin with.
You finish off the rest of your drink, pulling your leather wallet out of the back pocket of your jeans to order another, but Tyler is quick to stop you.
“Nah—nah,” Tyler says, his hand lifting off the tabletop to wave you off, “don't even,” he pauses to turn away and burp before turning back around to face you again, “don't even trip. I got your tab covered.”
“You sure?” You ask, hesitating to put your money away. It's not like you all are compensated fairly for your slave labor. That and if you let him pay for your drinks, wouldn't you owe him then? No, you reason in your slightly tipsy state, he's paying you back for taking care of Kay, meaning you'll be even and no one will owe anyone anything.
So—you let him buy you more drinks, slowly but surely relaxing, thanks to the alcohol and the easygoing nature of those around you. It's clear how much he cares for Kay by how he's treating you.
It's endearing, you can't deny that. Apparently Rain and Tyler dated for a short period of time, just under a month before Rain realized she was really into Kay. But, instead of getting angry or jealous, Tyler just accepted it, even gave his blessing since Rain was better than the jerk that knocked his sister up anyway.
It's been a good night—a great one, better than you could've ever imagined, but something always has to come along and ruin it. Life just has a funny way of doing that.
“Bjorn, mate!” Tyler yells over the noise, looking towards the front door with his arm waving in the air, flagging someone over, “over here!”
That someone maneuvers around the crowd, appearing at Tyler's side in just under a minute, a grin splitting his face in two as he takes the empty seat next to him, swiping Tyler’s drink to wash down his excitement.
“Good night?” Tyler jokes, taking in Bjorn’s appearance, currently vibrating on the bar stool he's sitting on, his attention focused solely on his cousin.
“I'm fuckin’ buzzin’ mate! I finally beat that stupid fuckin’ level,” he begins, launching into a tirade about some game he's been playing for awhile, hands coming up to wildy gesticulate as he speaks.
Your eyes are automatically drawn to him, analyzing his side profile while he's distracted. He's attractive, probably one of the most attractive men you've ever laid eyes on. From his under plucked brows to the oceanic hue of his irises, the single silver hoop threaded through his ear and the silly little frowny face tattoo on his neck down to the plushness of his pretty pink lips, framed by just the right amount of facial hair. He's perfect. Perfect until he opens his big fucking mouth.
He finally registers who's sitting around the table, eyes angrily narrowing when he zeroes in on Andy, gaze flickering over to Rain, “why tha’ fuck did you bring this rust bucket ‘ere?”
“Bjorn,” both Rain and Tyler preemptively warn, like they know what's about to follow and they probably do, considering he's Tyler’s cousin. Rain takes the lead on this one, adding, “don’t start.”
“And why tha’ fuck not? Ya’ fuckin’ knew how I'd feel if he was ‘ere! Ida’ just stayed tha’ fuck home,” he hisses, accent made thicker by his anger.
Tyler pinches the bridge of his nose, looking exasperated by his cousin already, “we just wanted to come for a pint mate. All of us. No use losin’ your head over it.”
“Right. Right. No use. Just like this hunka junk synth.”
You’ve never had a filter, never needed one when you've grown up never having to consider someone else's feelings so you can't help but snark, “do you practice being an asshole in the mirror or does it just come naturally to you?”
You feel everyone’s eyes on you, probably taken aback by your intervention, not expecting you, a total stranger, to speak up on behalf of Andy. But—you've never been good at biting your tongue, never needed to when you only have yourself to worry about, overconfident in voicing your displeasure when you're the only one who'll be punished for it, unlike those with familial connections who talk back to the higher-ups.
“And who tha’ bloody fuck are you?” He spits, face souring like he's bit into a lemon, looking you up and down, from the flat tabletop that sits under your breasts up to your hairline.
“Not a piece of shit like you,” you retort, squeezing the unopened beer Tyler bought for you, hard enough to crease the label wrapped around the circumference of the glass.
“So!” Tyler interrupts, trying to change the subject, directing his attention to you, “why’d it take ya so long to come out and join us?”
Kay squeezes your knee under the table and Rain looks grateful, reassuring a somewhat confused Andy that he's more than welcome to be here, that he isn't bothering anyone that isn't a totally immature man baby.
“Not really my scene,” you answer, ignoring the crisp hiss of the carbon dioxide being released when you pop the lid on the glass bottle Tyler bought you.
“Oh! Not good enough for ya’ princess?” Bjorn mocks, still simmering with anger from his side of the table.
“No, just not good enough for you, asshat,” you flip him off, still pissed on behalf of Rain and Kay and any girl that has to interact with him, feeling Kay’s fingers curl around your shoulders like she's trying to stop you.
You decide to let it go, for now, despite how angry you are, for Kay, sticking it out until she warns you it's time to leave. Because other than that—fuck that guy
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an3mos-mp · 1 year
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Summary: Reader is a tailor and gets a frisky request that Venti models for them.
Starring: Venti, reader
Genre: smut, handjobs, dirty talk, light nipple play
Warnings: Venti and reader are somewhat under the influence of alcohol
Author’s note: This was NOT proofread and it's been sitting in my ‘to edit’ list for long enough so here you go. If you know me, no you don’t. (I’m serious 🧍‍♀️) likes, reblogs, comments and new followers will always be appreciated. This is a side blog so I don't post often here AT ALL.
Word count: 1.4k (even i don’t understand how or why i wrote that many words of smut)
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You were a well known tailor in Mondstat and it wasn’t surprising that you got the favour of a well known bard that frequented Diluc’s tavern, Venti.
For years, you and him had been the best of friends and often bonded through him modelling some of your new ideas and designs so you could see if they were as good in person as they were in drawing
He was an excellent model and very professional. On top of that, he had a sense of artistic expression you’d expect from a bard and he was able to execute that skill when it came to commenting on your work and helping you fix design issues.
You often went to the same tavern every time to celebrate successful designs and making customers happy, to Diluc’s dismay, to drink the night away but you did have a single problem… though could you really call it a problem?
Venti got very flirtatious when drunk and it wasn’t with just anyone he came across when drunk, it was only with you.
Odd? Yes. Did you mind? No. Especially after developing a small (not small) crush on him.
It was one of those nights where you’d celebrate a successful design with Venti over bottle upon bottles of dandelion wine and Venti was flirting with you, as usual, but got interrupted when a regular customer spotted you in the bar with an anxious expression before stating they needed a design by the next morning.
You then found yourself with a drunk Venti in your shop, running around to grab materials for the design.
“You didn’t look at the design, did you?” Venti voiced from where he was seated behind you on your desk, legs crossed and design clutched in his nimble fingers. With a silent curse, you rushed to where he sat while nursing an assortment of random materials; you remembered grabbing polyester during your panicked state of searching for materials but that polyester was deemed useless by the design in Venti’s hands.
From over his shoulder, the delicate design of nightwear glared at you with its gorgeous frills and obscene disposure. Oh god, would that be able to cover anything important?
“That’s quite…” You trailed off, blood rushing to the surface of your skin.
“Scandalous?” Venti breathed. Opting to steal a glance at him to see his reaction, you shifted your eyes to his teal ones that were already on you as they glowed under the dim light of your workshop. His attention to you encouraged your heart to beat faster than the design made it beat.
You could only nod and when you turned to him his teal eyes were already focused on you, his cheeks reddened by what you could only hope was the dandelion wine.
“Do you… need a model for this design?” His voice was soft and hesitant like he was afraid they would shatter the tension that was created between you, the same tension that increased in correspondence with the decreasing distance between your lips,
“I do,” your voice was quiet, “I have never made anything like this before so naturally, I need guidance from a model.”
“Then should I… strip?” Venti said, his eyes on your lips and the design now crushed slightly in his tightened hold. Your thoughts descended with any sense of decency you normally managed to maintain around Venti because of his word choice. Why did he use ‘strip’ like he’ll need to be naked for you to make this piece? He had a body suit he would wear whenever he’d model for you and this time didn’t need to be any different. It wasn’t rational to believe otherwise because it was just a poor word choice. That poor word choice, however, had wrapped itself around your mind just like Venti’s legs which were now wrapped around your waist. The design was now discarded on your desk and his hands opted for clutching the material of your shirt.
Your hands were over his in an instant as you attempted to loosen his grip on you. “I think I should reject the design while I still can.” Venti protested by pulling you closer with his legs around your waste, you sighed. The dandelion wine was still in effect.
“Complete the design.” He demanded and despite your previous observation, his speech was clear of any mistakes unlike other nights you’d spend drunk together.
“Let’s go get some rest, we’re drunk.” Your words were breathless and half hearted just like your attempt to step away from Venti. He grabbed a hold of your wrist.
“But I want to model for you.” He stated, the hand around your wrist used your hand as an anchor to bring your bodies together. Your heart fluttered at this.
“Venti you’re wasted,”
His hold on your wrist tightened and your eyes were locked together like magnets. “Please.”
The tips of his fingers traced the skin from the wrist of your hand past your elbow to your exposed shoulder as his lips remained hair’s width away from yours, building your anticipation.
His hand grabbed a fistful of your shirt and pulled you toward him before your lips locked together.
His cold fingers latched themselves around your wrist for the second time that night before he guided your hand to the warm skin underneath his shirt; this gave you enough incentive to slowly trail your hand up his abdomen;
“Touch me.” His lips caressed your own with every word before he locked them together, it was inevitable for you were opposing forces bound to comverge. His lips burned against yours with an ardent flame that fed on the desperation you both emitted into the kiss. Venti’s back arched into you when the tips of your fingers skimmed his left nipple with a feather-like touch. He sighed against your lips as you circled his nipple with the aim to engrave the feeling of his skin on your fingers, the pathetic broken words that fell from Venti’s lips, which had now parted from yours, when you tugged on his nipple left you lightheaded and itching for more of his reactions.
After giving half-hearted and rushed attention to his other nipple. Venti protested but he dropped it when your hand descended from his chest down his abdomen to the waistline of his pants.
As you took your time handling buttons of his pants, Venti took your preoccupation as an opportunity to leave open mouthed kisses along the edge of your jawline and down to your neck; His lips were the paintbrush to the canvas of your skin and like a skilled artist he relished the purples and reds scattered on your skin and while they were not in any particular pattern, they conveyed an important message to him and anyone (archon’s forbid) who would dare cast their eyes on you. You were his.
While lost in his mastery of staining the skin of your neck with love bites, Venti snapped his hips into the palm of your hand with a sound of surprise. You had managed to work your hand into his pants, your fingers now wrapped firmly around his dick. Your other hand had its own firm grip on his thigh to discourage Venti from grinding against your hand as he did when he felt your warmth against his erection. “Don’t move.”
Venti chuckled, his head still buried in your neck. “Anyone would move if someone had their hand on their dick.” His words danced between the skin of your neck and soft lips grazed your neck with every syllable; it was enough to make you shiver but you didn’t forget the task at hand.
Soon enough you had Venti muffling his moans in the crook of your neck as you worked your hand on his dick; your wrist ached with how long you had been at it but the rising pitch in Venti’s pleas spurred you on. His fingers were curled into the material of your shirt as if you were his only anchor as he drowned in the vast ocean of pleasure you brought him with just your hand.
“I’m… so close.” He gasped, vision blurred by tears.
You ran your thumb over his tip causing him to whimper pathetically into your neck, his grip on your shirt tightening as your pace increased.
His hips began to move involuntarily despite your grip on his thigh and Venti was in hysterics.
“Please, please, please,” He moaned repeatedly like it was a prayer, like begging for release was the only thing he could remember to do because his orgasm and your hand were the centre of his thoughts and those prayers were answered through a mind numbing orgasm.
It was the first of many that night.
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swabian-princess · 2 years
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5 life lections with me
Hey girlies,
I’ve come across many delusional posts in the last few weeks and I‘ve wanted to put my two cents.
Please, take all of this with a grain of salt because I am only twentythree and not some old oracle.
Lection 1: You probably won’t marry a billionaire, no matter what you do  
I know, many feminity and levelling up influencers tell you that eveything is possible if you do this and that.
Some swear that manifestation works and some tell that Jesus Christ himself blessed them after they joined certain church groups.
Okay, but let’s speak facts: the chances that you’re marrying a billionaire are very low.
The chances that you’re marrying a young, good looking, wants you to be at stay at home girlfriend billionaire are even lower. Those men have their established social circles and tend to marry women within those circles. If you don’t have the right background, social network and education it’s nearly impossible for you to get in those circles.
However, your chances on marrying a handsome looking, appropriate aged man with a good paying job are very high if you put the work into it. I‘m talking surgeons, dentists, lawyers or engineers.
Lection 2: You have to do the work
My dear @memoirsofmimimango recently wrote a post about modern trends (highly recommend checking out her blog, she’s speaking straight facts.) and she touched the subject manifestation.
YES, manifestation can alter your thoughts and put you in a better headspace to stay motivated and reach your goals but that’s it.
You won’t get abs because you wrote it 36 times on a piece of paper, no. You’ll have to eat right and work out.
You won’t magically find your soulmate because you wrote down a character description of them and put it under your pillow, no. You’ll have to go out, meet people and actually talk to them in order to build a relationship, wether it’s platonic or not.
Lection 3: Learn from your mistakes and forgive yourself
Everybody makes mistakes. Everybody. Yes, maybe those mistakes hurt like hell and drag you back down to rock bottom but you have to move on.
You have to move on and forgive yourself, even if it hurts a lot and even if you loose people on your way.
Let’s say you fail 9 times but have succes at your 10th try – you would never know if you didn’t try it one more time.
Lection 4: Value friendships
I go out and make an effort to make friends and keep them. It is so important that you have a couple friends you can trust. Yet, like every relationship friendships are not build over night.
We live in a time with unlimited messenger options, please, for the love of god – text your friends. Call them. Ask them how they are. Make them feel important and valued.
Lection 5: Health is wealth
It is so important to be healthy. Physically and psychically.
I live in Germany and I am very privileged to have 40 paid vacation days. I schedule those days so that I can have at least a few days off every few months and time for a bigger vacation every six months so that I don’t burn out.
I also go out of my way to eat healthy, cook and prepare fresh food and try to stay away from drugs, alcohol and cigarettes.
I get bloodwork done regularly and supplement accordingly. I’ll have to work on my workout routine but I try to get my 10k steps in every day.
Don’t take your health for granted, you’re still young and many people only think about how they’ll look and feel when they’re 80+.
Well, but between your twenties and eighties there are also a few years and you still want to look and feel good when you’re 40 or 60, so work on your health.
Selene  
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huachengeye · 1 year
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Only Friends Episode 8: And they were all messy
Hello there! Episode 8 has been out for some days now, but after watching a reaction os YT and scrolling through the comments, I wrote this piece to add my two cents to the whole Mew victimization and Ray the supreme asshole (I don't actually think he is tho).
For organization and better reading comprehension, I'm going to separate this into sections, starting off with Mew going wild, then Ray, the fandom's favorite broken boy, and ending up with little about the relationship of the friend group.
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Mew, one of the nasties.
First off, I'm a Mew apologist. He is, in fact, my favorite character as of now, but I'm down to criticize the hell out of him, because loving is caring <3
I want to start with the whole discourse around his and Ray's relationship. The fandom seems to be separated into 3 categories (and yes, I'm generalizing a lot for the purpose of making my point): Mew apologists, Ray apologists, and everyone else who thinks they are as messy as everyone else without needing to explain their behavior.
In contradiction with my very first sentence, I belong to the third category in the sense I think they all do bad things to one another. Starting with Mew, we already know that he puts himself on a pedestal compared to his fucked-up friends, but my boy was kicked out of his high horse and now is like us, failed humans. One of the discourses I've been seeing, and that some characters in the series agree with (Cheum and Top), is that Mew is being dragged down by Ray. I completely disagree. Mew is an adult, and although he is experiencing heartbreak for the first time, the way he is acting is very realistic. Mew's first honest conversation with Top was about how he is afraid of getting his heart broken. He confided that to Top, about how he lives through his books because of his fears of getting hurt. And it happened exactly as he feared. It would be weird if he just behaved normally after finding out his boyfriend cheated on him with his friend. So his way of hurting is not hurting at all, is numbing his pain and he does it in the same way as Ray because that's the way he thinks it works.
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As the theories go for this BL, I've seen a lot of people saying that it is Mew that it's enabling Ray's substance abuse. Honestly, in my opinion, they are using each other. Mew made it clear that he doesn't love Ray romantically, he said it himself in this episode, Ray is the one he should love. I genuinely don't think Mew is using Ray with the idea of making Ray drown more in his addiction, I think the reason Mew is clinging to Ray right now is the same reason Ray clings to him: they were there when the other was going through his worst time. They are like lifesavers to each other. In this sense, they are mutually using one another, the difference is that Ray is also clinging to the idea that he is in love with Mew, when it's already clear to us, the viewers, that this boat has sailed. If Ray was certain that he wanted a future with Mew, and Mew only, he would've let Sand go. Because Ray didn't go after Sand only when he was under the influence of drugs and/or alcohol, he also went when he was sober, actively trying to keep Sand in his life, even if their relationship was never a friendship, and was always sexual/romantic (for Sand, at least).
Still analyzing Mew, I saw this brilliant post by @wen-kexing-apologist (this post right here, highly recommend for you to check it out) where they analyze Mew, and his personality (or lack of, for that matter). As soon as Mew told Top that he decorated his place with ideas from Pinterest I felt bothered, especially with his whole introduction in the first episode, about how he is the table keeper (I honestly don't remember how he worded it). I felt bothered but I couldn't quite say why, so when I read Wen Kexing Apologist's analysis, it all made sense.
Lao Wen's (I'm sorry for the use of the cannon nickname of wkx, saying the whole username is a task lmao) thesis is that Mew has no idea who he is, and I completely agree with them. The thing that was Mew's whole personality is that he was a virgin, which was the thing that most set him apart from his friends. Yes, he is also a bookworm and a smart person, but these were secondary things when it came to who he was. Mew was the "pure" one of the group, the one that was waiting for the right person, for the person that was worthy of his virginity (just typing this makes me want to wither away). After Top, he is no longer a virgin, he is no longer that different from his friends. So once he found out about Top cheating on him, he had lost more than his virginity, he had lost his own ideals, because he wanted his first time to be with someone worthy, as I said, and well, Top wasn't worthy, but Mew didn't know that at the time.
Now, Mew doesn't have the one aspect of him that defined him, so he is utterly lost and is now mimicking the one person that offers him some type of stability, one person that he knows truly cares for him, Ray. I really don't know how Mew will react if he knows that Ray kissed Sand at the party, I don't if he won't care because he isn't in love with Ray or if that will only make him go down to the worst path. I think he will get mad if he finds out, especially because it's Ray, his best friend, the one who was there for him when Top cheated on him. Oh, the drama it's gonna be.
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Now for Ray. I'm gonna be straight with y'all and say that Ray is the character I dislike the most in this BL, but also the one that I pity the most.
From the get-go, I knew Ray wasn't better than Boston or Top, but after this episode, I can't understand why people still treat him as the victim. He keeps on stringing Sand around as if he is his personal doll, even after Sand makes it clear that he doesn't want to be Ray's second option, that he wants Ray to let him go. Ray does not let him go, and more than that, he clings to Sand as a spoiled child clings to his favorite toy, not out of love, out of possessiveness. I don't really see Ray and Sand's relationship as one of love, Sand is basically Ray's parent, and for Ray, Sand is a thing he can own, just like he can own anything else with his money. For this topic, I recommend this post by @wen-kexing-apologist (yes, I might be a little obsessed with their analysis, sue me) and this post by @emotionallychargedtowel.
I saw some people saying that Ray doesn't know he is addicted, and that his substance abuse doesn't excuse his behavior but certainly explains it, I disagree. I think that Ray knows that his actions hurt others around him, and he knows because his friends and Sand already told him when he was sober. Sand said more than one time that he should drive whilst drunk because he could hurt someone. Sand in the hospital made it clear that he should take accountability for his actions. Mew keeps on chewing him about his drinking behavior (even if he doesn't in a very judgmental way). So he knows, he might not be able to control himself when he is drunk, but he never takes accountability afterward, not really. Even after his accident, what was his punishment? Community service, and even when it comes to that he tried to make Sand help him.
As for the idea that he doesn't know he is addicted, I think he does. I think he does, but he doesn't want to acknowledge it. If I remember correctly (and I might not, please correct me if I'm tripping), when Ray and Mew kissed back when they didn't know Sand or Top, Ray says to Mew that if he hadn't found Ray in the bathtub, he would've joined his mother. At the time, I hadn't watched the flashback of his mother on the floor, but I got the impression that he meant that not because he would die like his mother, but because he would've joined his mother in the same way that she went. Now, I think that scene was Ray's way of acknowledging for a brief moment that he is going down the same path as his mother. Again, I might be way off here.
So my point is, I'm a bit tired of people trying to blame Ray's trauma for all of his actions. Of course, his traumas and mental issues are a big part of it, but he still chooses to hurt others, even when sober. Trauma doesn't mean you can treat others like shit. And as someone who grew close to a person that dealt with alcohol abuse and turned a jerk because of it, it's fucking tiring and emotionally consuming to have someone berating you. It doesn't matter at the moment that they are out of their minds, because in the end, you are hurting.
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THEY ARE FRIENDS, BUT ARE THEY REALLY?
Now onto the Fantastic Four. After this episode, I saw some people talking about Cheum never actually caring for Ray or that neither of the friends did. I saw someone talking about how Cheum shouldn't have said that (her whole monologue) whilst Ray was being held down by a cop. I agree with all of it, except maybe for the part that his friends don't care. I think Mew does care, although he certainly doesn't look like he does now. But we need to remember that he was there for Ray when he tried to take his own life. And I believe that there are still things we didn't see from them because they are best friends. Before Top, before Nick, before Sand, the one that Ray could lean on was Mew and from the way Ray behaves around him, it seems as if Mew wasn't the worst friend around.
As for Boston and Cheum, it is VERY clear that the one person who keeps these 3 people (Boston-Cheum-Ray) as friends is Mew, he is the glue of the friendship. Things are starting to look bad for their friendship now that Mew is acting out, because even when Boston did what he did, Cheum-Ray-Mew were still together. We also have to take into consideration that maybe Cheum and Boston don't know the scope of Ray's problems, maybe they don't know that Ray tried to kill himself, because from what we saw that was something that only Mew knew. Cheum clearly knows that Ray still suffers from his mother's death, and that's why she walked away when he said that his mother is dead, but we don't know if they actually know why Ray behaves in such a way.
Let's look at the situation from Cheum's POV for a minute. She is watching her friend, Mew, acting the same way as Ray, when Mew used to be the one to try and make Ray stop. She sees that both of them are making decisions about the hostel that the FOUR of them worked on, without her (or Boston). She knows that Ray did the whole hostel thing because of Mew. She is feeling left out as if no one cares for her like Ray was feeling before he started going out with Sand. When it comes to their friendship and this scene of Cheum's explosion, we need to remember Ray did a similar thing to her on Mew's birthday. He told everyone about her private business, and for her, it doesn't matter that he was drunk, because it hurt her and could've possibly ruined her relationship (ofc if it did the blame wouldn't be on Ray, because he didn't lie about the things she said about her girlfriend). And as she was talking, she mentioned that she and Boston were always the third wheel, which makes me think about all the times Boston talked to Ray about how he needed to stop his bullshit and be real about how much he wanted Mew to stay away from Top - and he was so right about that, because what was the thing Ray did when Mew was heartbroken? He asked Mew for a chance.
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For my last point, I just want people to try and be in the friend's place for a second. In everyone's place actually (except for Ray's). Would you be a pantheon of peace and calm when your friend keeps on doing things that hurt you? The series did a great job at showing how Ray's traumas hurt him, but it also did a great job at showing how Ray's substance abuse hurts everyone around him.
As I said, when you are close to someone who has an addiction, you want to help them because you know that it's hard, but at some point, you get tired because, in the end, you are putting your own mental and emotional health in line for someone else. Most of the time, the person doesn't accept your help. It's not that they don't know they are addicted (sometimes that's the case tho, not trying to generalize, but I'm using my personal example and Ray for this), is that they don't want to assume it, they honestly want to believe they are in control.
Ray doesn't have the best support friendship, but in the end, not a single one of his friends is well enough to help him out, not even Sand. Not one of them has the capacity to help him, so I think it's unfair to place them as awful friends for not helping Ray out every time. Again, you can't help someone who does not accept help, but that also doesn't mean that they should just leave him to go crazy and drink like a madman, snort like his nose is made of steel. That's not it. But I think we should stop minimizing his acts just because of his mental issues and substance abuse. As someone who has mental issues in a way that I had similar thoughts to Ray, it does not mean that I'm allowed to treat others badly because of it. And I know people ain't trying to place Ray (only) as a victim, but I feel like the bar is raised high for everyone that isn't Ray, just because of his traumas and addiction -- let me also remind some of yall, that Top snorts too, he looks like he may have or may have had an addiction to his sleeping pills, his house caught fire and his parents weren't there to help him because his parents don't give a shit about him. From what we know the thing that sets him apart from Ray is that his mother didn't die in a very traumatic way, but still, I don't see anyone trying to justify his wrongings by using his traumas (as it should be).
This whole essay is just to say that no one is fully right here. We have people messing up and people trying to better themselves. Right now, Mew and Ray are messing up, but I'm sure at some point they will get better, and hopefully Ray will get the help that he needs because now he is looking for the help that he wants (aka Sand and Mew).
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amber-jinx · 10 months
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Stop Victim-blaming Rachel Amber
I've posted this before but still don't see it being recognised enough. So here is part of an original well-written analysis of Rachel Amber, specifically the parts that got her the most hate:
SO WHY WAS RACHEL MESSING AROUND WITH FRANK AND JEFFERSON IF SHE LOVED CHLOE?? Well, let me lead you to—
Case studies on the way predatory and grooming relationships work in BtS and LiS
Exhibit D 💀💀
**Rachel was an 18 y/o emotionally vulnerable traumatized naive girl with abandonment issues, commitment issues and a father complex who was a victim of predatory grooming.
More often than not, girls like Rachel (yes, I’m calling her a girl at this point) find themselves in the company of questionable older men because of their unresolved personal issues and lack of proper guidance. Just because someone turns 18 doesn’t mean they magically transform into this wise mature grown up who’s achieved clarity in what they want or know. Just because they’re finally legal doesn’t make a 30 something yr old going after a barely legal girl any less wrong than a 30 yr old dating a 16 yr old. Just because a girl is confident and smart doesn’t mean they can’t be exploited.
One can see why an 18 y/o would want to date a 30 y/o. But you can’t possibly fathom why a 30 y/o would want to date an 18 y/o— unless it’s for sex or you enjoy the power imbalance, which again you can’t possibly blame the girl because that's just the adult exploiting the barely legal girl. And that would, SHOULD still earn a side eye. One can easily see why Rachel would be attracted to the prospects of sleeping with Frank if it meant being able to facilitate her drug abuse and him being a possible lead to her birth mother. One can easily see why Rachel would be attracted to a world-renowned photographer who's suddenly taking an interest in her of all people, someone who can essentially give her her shot to stardom and give her dreams on a silver platter. It's hard to run the other way if everything you've ever dreamed of is suddenly being offered right in front of you, harder if you've already been charmed to feel falsely safe with them.
You cannot blame a girl for falling for men that manipulated and took advantage of her vulnerability, exploited her, especially when she had no commitments or obligations to anyone whatsoever, no one telling her ‘stop, this is wrong’— completely no one to warn her that this was a predator and she’s the victim that they’ve been eyeing since she was 15-17.
Still think this wasn’t what was happening to Rachel? Her relationships with Frank (32) and Jefferson (38) were kept in absolute secrecy even though Rachel wanted to tell Chloe (who wasn’t even a student anymore) about Jefferson. I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t sound safe or healthy at all.
EDIT: Even if somehow you dismiss the messed up predatory grooming aspect of this, the thing going on between Rachel and Frank was highly inappropriate and predatory because they were always under the influence of drugs. Consensual or not, Rachel was most likely always high around Frank which means she would've been in a vulnerable state each time and with drugs and alcohol clouding her judgment. A person under the influence— a drunk person CANNOT give consent. One of the letters she wrote to him even suggests that he was abusive at one point which indicates this wasn't a functional, much less healthy relationship at all. Heck, there's even an unused audio line where Max says: "Frank, I actually believe that you do hurt Rachel."— which just screams abuse. No idea why they decided to cut that out (DN is already sus with the way they try to make players sympathize with abusive men), but it still definitely is a reflection to what generally happens when drugs and sleeping with an older man that can facilitate their addiction is involved.
This would be different if Rachel was messing with guys their age, but no. This is specifically a girl who was being taken advantage of and exploited by men twice her age instead; one who was a drug dealer and the other who turned out to basically be a psychopathic drug rapist.
It’s just downright messed up to victim blame and demonize the girl who was being taken advantage of and groomed. Rachel didn't 'choose' Frank or Jefferson. She was victimized.
With all things considered, even if we don’t take BtS into account— we still have all these things to properly analyze what their relationship was.
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If we were to include in the words of the developers/writers about the girls’ relationship to make it more credible and not just an analysis of a random fan, from LiS1:
Jean-Maxime Moris: There is ambiguity. (Creative Director)
They never confirmed whether Rachel and Chloe were in an actual relationship despite it not being up to the player like Max and Chloe. And relationships that are described to be ambiguous usually means it was complicated and not the usual standard of a monogamous exclusive relationship.
Read more in this Reddit post:
I hope this clear things up. If you read all the way til here, Thank you. Here are a few art I generated based on Rachel in the comics book cover 🧡
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You are free, and you will be missed.
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discourse
tw: mention of abuse, drugs/alcohol
this post is for people who are acting in good faith when they are protesting dark content. I want to provide some more context about media analysis. I say this all with love <3
i'll give my side note for the people who are just posting "blah blah blah if you write this you suck" for the sake of attention: you could get attention if you actually wrote something or created art, but you have chosen to take the most pathetic and childish route to getting notes. instead, you choose to be annoying
*i did reblog nexy's post about this (i also have a post from a while ago) and these encapsulate most of my feelings on the topic but i wanted to add a few more thoughts
I believe nexy mentioned this in her post and I may have in my old one, but I'm going to restate/add on. Oftentimes, dark content is explicitly stated as including dark topics (and this would be inferred by the average reader). However, there is a lot of fiction that exists (not just fanfiction) that normalizes more innocuous things - for example, sex under the influence of drugs or alcohol.* this is not to say that having one drink automatically renders you unable to consent for the night but i think some people brush off having sex that you barely remember because you were very drunk at the time.
I'm not going to make the argument that we should get rid of those fics either. If you're like me, and you want to prevent abuse and shed light on lesser known forms of abuse, then what we need to do is have an actual conversation which exists on a larger scale - as a society, we don't educate about abuse enough, and oftentimes (intentionally or not) we excuse it.
(I'm not going to get into my personal life too much, but I did not know when I was younger that I could not consent when I was under the influence and I used substances to "help me be less nervous" during sex. I would really like more education on consent and abuse in real life, not in fiction.)
It is not up to (and should not be up to) fanfiction writers to educate you on what is and is not a problematic relationship, etc. We are creating media for the sake of our entertainment and yours. There should be more educational material about abuse and other related topics, and I don't have the resources personally or knowledge (from an academic perspective, for lack of a better term) where I feel like i could responsibly create educational resources but I'd be interested in helping if anyone is doing that.
Tangential point here: I think media analysis is really fun (also important). People who want to ban fanfiction are not looking to analyze media. We could go into a philosophical discussion about the application of morality to media, but that's also not what you're looking to do (also I didn't take that many philosophy classes in college so i'm not prepared for that conversation). I would love to discuss fanfiction (and other media), though, that people would be open to nuanced analysis of media. For example, I've talked about this briefly (I think on here, but definitely privately), but I'll mention it here, I think analyzing copaganda in general is a very neat (and important) thing to do, and I like to look at the different narratives formed around leon - the good rookie cop vs the corrupt cop. I'm not going to give my analysis here because no offense, but I don't think that the intended audience for this post is ready to have a conversation that requires nuanced analysis.
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asoulsreverie · 9 months
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Akane Lore
I just realized ya'll don't know what was happening in my head when I wrote that. So here's a clarification.
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During the Cataclysm, when Dainsleif served as the Captain of the Royal Guards, Bryndhyr served as the Royal Scribe.
After the fall of Khaenri'ah, she, now an Abyss Lector, joined him and the Sibling in their journey across Teyvat. At the end of their travels, when the Sibling eventually created the Abyss Order and left Dain, she continued to work for the Abyss in the shadows.
Abyss Lectors gain power from text's. Bryndhyr's search for power eventually led her to Enkanomiya, where she spent the next century reading old texts. Some of them reminded of her past, as if clearing the clouded memories. She realized why Dainsleif had never joined the Order. The Order's attempts would probably all be in vain, only prolonging the suffering of the ‘monsters’ that were once the people of Khaenri'ah.
After leaving Enkanomiya, and spending a few years in Watatsumi and Inazuma under the alias Hisaisei Akane, she moves to Sumeru just before the Sakoku Decree was enforced.
Akane almost feels like her old self in the House of Daena. The scent of books, the quiet chatter and the sound of turning pages remind her of the days spent when Khaenri'ah was a peaceful land.
Her knowledge of the past as well as various scriptures led her to easily graduate the Akademiya, and soon she took up the position of a Professor in the Haravatat Darshan, as well as some influences in the Vahumana Darshan.
That was serious, now let me add some random Trivia-
Dainsleif and Bryndhyr grew up together, her being an adopted daughter of a Noble family, who were friends with Dain's family.
Akane and Kokomi bonded over their love for reading before she left for Sumeru.
She and Alhaitham were in the same year, so when the post of Scribe was to be filled, the interviewer had a very had time to judge who would get the spot.
Madam Faruzan and Professor Akane became best buddies once she returned.
She soon realize that her newer half lector–half human body was… Definitely not good with Alcohol. Let's just say she and Kaveh had a drunk karaoke night at the Tavern, even though both of them had had only a glasse of wine each. Alhaitham had to pull both of them out.
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thesinglesjukebox · 10 months
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RENEÉ RAPP - PRETTY GIRLS
youtube
WE'RE SO BACK THAT WE'RE EVEN DOING AMNESTY. We begin with a recommendation from Jackie...
[6.19]
Jackie Powell: Justin Tranter has a rule he uses in songwriting. He encourages the artists he works with to make their verses as truthful and detailed as possible and follow them with a chorus that's broader, saying that this will hit the more "aggressive" listeners and more attentive fans where they are, while the passive listeners connect to something much more rhythmic. It's obvious that he provided this directive to Reneé Rapp for "Pretty Girls," one of four songs they wrote together for Rapp's debut album Snow Angel. There's an intentionality in the arrangement. The instrumentation in the first verse begins with a softness, a gentle guitar plucking. Rapp begins singing in piano as well. The story that Rapp is trying to tell can't be overshadowed by any ostentatious production quirks. It is personal and much more sincere than the much more melodic "Too Well," which Rapp now loathes performing. (I get it -- there are multiple runs in each chorus.) Her tale is as old as time: how frustrating it is to be a queer woman and have other women want to experiment with you while under the influence of alcohol because they know you are queer. It isn't just relatable but embarrassing as well. But once she hits the kicker of that first verse, "You think that I'd be flattered/It's pathetic 'cause you're right," she realizes so quickly that no, she's not in the wrong. It's embarrassing, but there's no need to be bashful for too long. By the hook, she turns the story on her foil, and the bass line amps up in a way where it's also lecturing the drunk bicurious girl that frustrated her. When Rapp performs "Pretty Girls" live, she alters the completely staccato chorus. The second half of the hook, when she addresses what the "straight" girls proceed to do in the morning, is taken up the octave and performed slurred. While she might have made this change purely for an easier live performance, the more legato and louder second half of the hook asserts Rapp's frustration over the situation. The song ends without a resolution, but rather acceptance: this sucks, but it is what it is. She knows that she's not in the wrong for simultaneously enjoying and loathing the situation. "Pretty Girls" proves that Rapp has matured, and that she knows that writing a song that tells a really uncomfortable and frustrating story is much more effective than vaguely singing about how she can't get over someone. And the more Rapp tells stories that haven't often been told, the more she discovers her own character. She's not pretending to know who she is anymore, pretty girl. [9]
Alex Ostroff: My brain has mentally grouped this together with Troye Sivan's "One of Your Girls" and Hayley Kiyoko's "Curious" (which I described almost six years ago as "cheekily subvert[ing] the titular adjective that's too often deployed to undermine queer women's sexuality"). All three tracks are queer pop songs 10-to-15 years post-"I Kissed a Girl" that explore the perspectives of those who Katy Perry's narrator/protagonist used while claiming to celebrate them. Hayley's approach was pissed and snide and assertive and wounded but still confident. Troye's is entranced, enamoured, seductive, desperate, and more than a little pathetic -- but riding the high of how good lowering yourself like that can still feel. Reneé splits the difference -- mostly taking Troye's kind-of-pathetic-but-I-can't-help-myself attitude in the verses and Hayley's calling-you-out-on-your-bullshit approach in the chorus -- but her verses are still self-aware and the chorus is still deflated by the inevitability of it all. The biggest problem is that the very nature of the tone and emotion Rapp is trying to capture means that the chorus of "Pretty Girls" was never going to rival either the double-time Mustard-wave joys of "Curious" or the synth-smeared multitracker vocoder romance of "One of Your Girls." Resignation isn't the stuff of soaring pop songs, you know? [7]
Michael Hong: It differs in two ways from Troye Sivan's "One of Your Girls": 1) the object of Rapp's affection isn't just straight but taken, and 2) she understands the pathetic misery of pursuing her. Think I'd be more interested in this if her chorus wasn't just her being a wistful onlooker but felt as liberating as its instrumental. [4]
Scott Mildenhall: An entry-level investigation into heteronormativity, which is exactly what some listeners will need. That's no bad thing, but if the scenario is predictable, the song doesn't need to be. Aim higher than cliché, and you might even clear it -- the endorsement of straitjackets gives the sense that beyond a Shazam of Savage Garden, this was not the most thorough exercise. [5]
Jeffrey Brister: Yeah, patter choruses are good, bisexual anguish is good, Rapp's voice is good if not incredible (there are more dynamite vocal performances elsewhere on her album), but I HATE the whole "let the arrangement do all of the heavy lifting in the chorus" trope. It's lazy songwriting, it robs songs of any energy gathered up during the verse, it's plodding and repetitive, it's irritating because I have to sit through 146 seconds that go absolutely nowhere, and then angrily hit repeat so I can listen to it because I write about a song best when I'm actually listening to it, which can also make me hate a song more than it deserves, so I try to be a bit diplomatic about it, and yes I am fully aware I am saying too much but WE'RE SO BACK (for a little while at least) so you bet your ass I'm going to try to hold your attention more than this limp and boring song by also mentioning that I Have Written At Least One song and I know at least the basics about the subject so I believe that should lend me a little credibility. It's not great and it irritates me! Give me something!!! [4]
Kayla Beardslee: First time listening, and I can see why this release made noise: it's a surprisingly good Pop Girl Song from an artist whose acting and theater background wasn't guaranteed to translate well to pop music. Of course, once you get past the "oh, it's good" phase, it just sounds like a run-of-the-mill pop single: nice chorus, but there are a thousand other songs that do the same thing. [5]
Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Selena Gomez whisper-pop finally gets its day back in the sun -- and now it's gay! [8]
Aaron Bergstrom: In a nearby parallel universe, this is the summer's smash hit entitled "Bad Idea Right?" [8]
Will Adams: Dagny's legacy lives on! Anything else going on in the song? No? Okay then. [5]
Katherine St Asaph: A Katy Perry rejoinder with a Katy Perry chorus (which itself was already a Dagny chorus). [5]
Dorian Sinclair: Reneé Rapp was eight when Katy Perry's "I Kissed a Girl" came out, so I would be mildly surprised if "Pretty Girls" was meant to be a direct response -- but as someone who was in my late teens at the time, I can't help but read it as one, despite my general efforts to ignore that the Perry track ever happened. Regardless of whether it was intended, Rapp's crafted a strong rejoinder, helped along by some great musical touches on the chorus: stuttery syncopation, but also and especially the pitch-shifting and chaotic intrusions that intrude the last time through as the party's winding down. It's a shame that the verses aren't musically distinctive whatsoever, deflating both the energy from that chorus and the jagged observations of their lyrics. [6]
Micha Cavaseno: I'm glad that I get to be a lesbian in the open, just because it means I can want more from lesbian dynamics in songs and it doesn't come off crass all the time. Because I'm always kind of warded off by a certain chivalry that comes through in desiring women by women in songs, the kind of energy that I recognize is hard-won to be so open but simultaneously emanates dull passive-aggression all the same. Maybe to be brazen and vain is a luxury not so easy when your quarry is just a girly who's skittish and soft but holy shit, just look at the thread of logic here, ok? It doesn't help that Reneé's vocal is so sleepy and mealy-mouthed, nor the gimmick shifts of the production never actually provide the song with energy. Congratulations ladies, we're the "nice girls" who get left behind for bad boys today. [2]
Taylor Alatorre: You can tell she felt that getting this message out to the world was so important that it didn't necessitate stringing these two or three song snippets into a seamless whole. It's not even clear that she's wrong about that. I remain largely unmoved by pop stars' attempts to channel the kind of confessional bedroom indie I used to hear at the Empty Bottle and the Beat Kitchen, but as a generational default setting for emotional unloading, you could do worse. And anyway, you're not here for that snippet, or for the Jepsenesque chorus, or for the fidgety outro where things actually get sonically interesting. You're here for "yeah, that bitch is gay," you're here for Katy Perry answer songs, you're here for [2015 voice] the Discourse. Well, Reneé Rapp seems to say: have at it. You worked hard this year. You deserve it. [6]
Ian Mathers: I don't even go here (in a couple of senses), but can I just say respectfully: fucking oof. [9]
Nortey Dowuona: The sulky delivery Reneé favors on the verses feels both frustrated and defeated: setting the mood and inhabiting the contempt she feels by having to tolerate the clumsy, cowardly flings by insecure girls with girls like her. The delivery gets bigger by zooming in on it, magnifying the whisper of bitterness over the heavy bass arpeggios of the first chorus. Then, when the second chorus doesn't let the last line hang in near silence, the power of this magnification fails, since we're meant to wallow in the frustration. The song switches the drum programming by the outdo and drops a tantalizing synth line, then zaps it out of nowhere, dramatizing the brief spark of excitement and desire that disappears in a flash. Too bad that's at the end. Could've used it on the second verse, tbh. [6]
Vikram Joseph: The dimly lit opening verse is the best part of this; thereafter it just morphs into a "Now I'm In It"/"Supercut" mashup without the jittery dynamism of the former or the breathless intensity of the latter. As a call-out of queer-baiting behaviour it's halfway interesting but no more than that; "You think that I'd be be flattered/it's pathetic cos you're right," cuts nicely, but the awkwardly delivered "It's a blessing and it's a curse," is a piss-weak conclusion to draw. As ever, Self Esteem did it better. [5]
Alfred Soto: "I like the straitjacket," she offers, not a sentiment one hears these days: the freedom within form, freedom within constraints. Fussing over the details of a friend's relationship while the beats pull at her elbow, reminding her there's other prey. [7]
Brad Shoup: For a short track, they didn't spare the details: the movie-trailer detuning of that lonesome acoustic figure, the breakbeat at the end (with something close enough to live drums). And there's the fade-in that starts ominous, then shifts to cinematic just before it peaks. I think it's supposed to foreshadow the chorus, which really is good and also reframes the verses as sort of a weird, lamentable fact of life. Which is an interesting way to frame things! [7]
Frank Falisi: Do you know what can happen in less than three minutes? What are the totems you carry around with worry, with desire? When is repeating retreating? Aren't you second-guessing yourself now? Why do we gather words from daily life and corral them into a chorus? When a word jumps out of the mouth, can someone else catch it, want to utter its want? And what do you catch in that process? How does it feel getting caught? Is discovering another language to pronounce "I want" an elision of "and I can't have"? When we say "pretty girls" are we remembering faces? Imagining them? What is it about a refrain: the way it assures or the ways it dares? What if the parts of a chorus that we keep singing are something else entirely, halfway between a fantasy and a feeling? And have you ever thought how many times in your life you have less than three minutes to sing something? [7]
Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Every time I listen to "Pretty Girls" I get stuck on one word, sung almost in passing in the song's first verse: "pathetic." It's a hard word for a pop song -- it almost feels like too much, a too-early shift from subtext to text. But from that one word Reneé Rapp manages to conjure up a short story's worth of ambiguous feeling -- of self-awareness, of joy, of desperation, of regret, of nihilism, of hope. It's the single point from which the rest of "Pretty Girls" springs from -- even the production choices, which drawn from the same post-Melodrama-and-MUNA well that lite-alt-pop albums in the 2020s are seemingly obliged to draw from, make sense in its light, in the curdled daydream that word implies. [8]
Hannah Jocelyn: If there's one thing I've learned from the last few years of being out, it's that straightness as a concept is insufficient to describe the complex, intense relationships people have with one another regardless of orientation or gender. So we wind up with these catch-22 scenarios, where alcohol gets someone bi-curious, and the mixed messages leave Reneé Rapp bi-furious. (I use that term exclusively to shoehorn in a Scott Pilgrim reference; come on, she even looks like Envy Adams!) The chorus chord progression is both too busy and oddly melancholy, almost capturing Rapp's conflicted feelings by accident: If the lyrics are bitter, she's still sympathetic towards those "Pretty Girls." The short length is disappointing -- I could listen to the chopped vocals and distorted drum kit for another minute at least -- but it makes sense because there isn't more to say, is there? I don't think it's anyone's fault these things happen; I think we're all trapped in comphet, regardless of how we identify. We keep on pretending, to each other and to ourselves, denying our desire for one another. That's why I admire this class of messy sapphic artists like Rapp, Fletcher, and Baby Queen even when I don't always like their music -- they know desire's a terrible thing, but you know, they really don't mind. [7]
[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]
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ntzsche9 · 1 year
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The Crash
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Warnings: car crash with grievous bodily injury, alcohol abuse, driving under the influence, drug abuse
Gabe always knew his functional alcoholic roomie would get into a terrible car wreck some day, but he never thought he would be dumb enough to be in the car with him. When the consequences of the wreck threaten to destroy Dave's life, Gabe finds himself doing everything he can to hold those pieces together. The love he harbors for his straight, polyamorous best friend runs deeper than either of them are ready to face, and find that Dave's injury turns their relationship completely on its head.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
I'll be honest - I wrote this because I wanted to write that first scene, for funsies. Then all these details came to mind that I began to sweep together into a pile. I do plan to post more of it, once I get it together.
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okok hi!!! i saw your post about fredrika and stella and i def agree, but then i thought "what if just one of them got drunk (most likely fredrika) and the other (stella) acted on their moment?" i know its not the most kind thing to do and honestly is taking advantage of the other person buuut it is a possibility. i think. lol this is not an ask its more of a rant.
hello lovely internet person :O i quite enjoy lil rants^^
i did think of this when i wrote out that post, actually. and i do agree, it is a possible scenario that could've occurred, however, i wouldn't be too quick to just say "oh yeah it was stella who was sober and kissed fredrika in her drunken state" because we haven't seen stedrika from fredrika's side as yet (given that if it did impact her we would probably see it in s2 but we didn't bUt don't crush my hopes). i think if either of them did kiss the other while they were under the influence of alcohol, they wouldn't be as close and it probably felt really shitty afterwards, since seeing how much they both care about each other- which isn't the case. i do really hope they address stedrika a bit more in s3 though!!!
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hell-ama-official · 4 months
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I am starving for more Hellish dialect facts. Feed me. Give me facts. I subsist on linguistic tables. Do ypu use UK or US spellings for words? What do you call bisquits? Is it soda or pop or something else entirely? Is it a sidewalk or a walkway? Do you have traffic lights or stoplights or traffic signals?
I wouldn't know much about linguistic tables or the differences between American and British spelling, but I'll do my best to make a small write-up that should answer your question.
Biscuit - soft dry dough you use for a cake, and a cake made with such dough. Also includes rustlebread cakes, for some reason. Rustlebread is actually more similar to gingerbread, but instead of using ginger to flavor it, you use dried and ground rustleroot bark- conflicting with its name, it isn't actually a root vegetable, but rather a small shrub. The name comes from its peculiar appearance which has been compared to "roots growing upside down" and the particular cracking sound it makes when the bog turns arid and barren during winter. I've never seen it spelled as "bisquit", but I've also never seen anything spelled as "Peaque", so I reserve my right to judge this for a later date. Cookie - small and flat baked treat. Part of "smart cookie", "quick-thinking cookie" and "cute cookie". I've heard it used as slang for someone who makes their own drugs without selling them. Calling someone a "sanguine cookie" means you think they perform dark magic while under influence, and is wildly considered an insult by older folks and compliment by younger lads.
Soda - carbonated drink. Also table soda, also known as cooking soda, also known as baking soda. Pop - short for lollypop, short for popular, sometimes short for "father". Soda pop - initially meaning carbonated drink, then slang for a young-looking gay man over the age of consent. If I were to pick a modern slang word with similar connotations, it would be "twink". Not something you would say to a stranger, and yet a playful comment between friends. It's commonly thought that the name comes from the male hookers' habit of ordering non-alcoholic drinks at bars while searching for clientèle.
Sidewalk - more commonly used than walkway. The word walkway has not been part of my dictionary prior to reading this ask, but after I wrote down the first draft of this post, I've overheard a person using it at the train station, which leads me to the unfortunate conclusion that some beings indeed talk like this. Traffic light - the proper variant. It doesn't just tell you when to stop, it also tells you when to go. And here's a particular curiosity: in Hell, the blinking red lights that warn you about emergencies are what's called stoplights.
And some blitz round additions I couldn't help but look up:
An apartment complex is where apartments/flats are located. "Block of flats" means nothing to me. Are you offering me american plastic cheese, is that what a "block of flats" is? Ground floor and first floor are synonyms, unless you're referring to a building that has a store on the first floor and the apartments start at the second floor, in which the store is on the ground floor and the apartments are on the first floor. An elevator is the small enclosed box that transports people between floors, and a lift is an open platform with handrails typically reserved for cargo. I have never used the word skillet for a frying pan in my life, and even in case of frying, in Hell you usually use a multipot to do it. A merry-go-round is an old-timey sounding version of carousel, but a roundabout is a circular road intersection. Both potato chips and crisps are the same thing - that is, crisps. You just call the French fries "fries". You spell cheque properly, and not as "check", but you can also use "write-up" or "penning" when you're writing a cheque. It is nearly impossible to determine which one is pants and which one is trousers without added context, so most stick to using "undergarments" and "slacks" instead.
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