#I’ve posted something here and there over the years

[hearts4chriss]

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍.

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬!𝐁𝐒𝐅! 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐏𝐎𝐂 𝐛𝐬𝐟

prompt by this request: "chris getting jealous bc his bsf seems flirty with matt so he confesses his feelings and it ends with smuttttt”

contains: HELLA SMUTTT, Chris confessing his feelings, mad jealous Chris, dom!chris, suggestive, “flirting” w Matt??, Chris and yours first kiss, choking, spanking, degrading names (slut, whore yktv), MUCH dumification, use of pet names (mama, baby, sweetheart, good girl, pretty girl, sweet girl ), stomach bulge!, flashbacks of Chris fantasizing about you, overstimulation, cream pie, squirting, Chris having a massive cock obviously, missionary, slight m!oral, aftercare as always!! Heavy ( bath tg, praising, concerned!chris reassurance

a/n- this has been sitting in my drafts for a while so here it is

For years, since we were kids. I’ve always had a huge crush on my bestfriend.

I couldn’t get over her no matter how hard I tried and it grew more and more especially since she lives in LA now and we see her almost everyday.

It got worse. So bad. I needed her

I remember seeing her in an orange bikini complimenting her gorgeous features. The way the bottoms hugged her curves making her ass pop out was enough to make me finish in my pants.

She was gorgeous, I wanted to have her badly but it was Nearly impossible fo get her alone.

Especially with Matt around. It pissed me off when I’d see them laughing together or making tiktoks.

That’s my girl

I remember sitting in my room scrolling on instagram when I got the notification she posted on her story

Fuck she looked so good.

the way the grey shorts hugged her ass just how I liked, she looked so gorgeous too.

I, unintentionally started palming myself through my sweats.

I couldn’t help it she had such an affect on me.

I pulled my sweats down revealing my boxers with a wet spot where my tip was.

“Shit”. I groan pulling them down fully as my dick slapped against my stomach begging to be touched, wishing it was her hand and not mine.

I began to stroke myself with shaky hands imagining it was her lips wrapped around me and I throw my head back against the pillows as my mind wandered

She was irresistible, I had to have her.

We always had a flirty thing going on and I didn’t think it would get this far.

Until…

Today was on of those days where I was in the kitchen leaning on the counter drinking a Pepsi pretending to watch TV as I listen to her faint giggles as her and my fucking brother watched TV.

I felt my hand tighten around the can as I saw how close they were, knowing he didn’t like her but I didn’t care. I wanted her all too myself.

I sighed throwing my can out coming up with an idea to figure out a way to get her for me.

Matt and nick going to get food.

“hey Matt, wanna go get some food? Y/n likes this Chinese place it’s about an hour away, nick prob wants to go”. I say smiling with a cocky grin and he rolls his eyes.

“Okay fine I’ll be back in like 4 fucking hours nick let’s go!”. Matt tells and Nick comes downstairs.

“Y/n, you’re so lucky we love you”. Nick says sarcastically and they walk out the house but fuck something about the way Matt looked at her before he left just made me more pissed off.

“Chris?”. I stand up adjusting my shorts as the grey material rolled up my ass and my tank top hugged around my tits the watching Chris’s eyes wander.

“What the fuck are you trying to do to me”. Chris mutters into my ear, his hand wrapping around my neck and my breath hitches.

“W-what are you talking about?”. I shudder as his blue eyes pour into mine with an unhappy expression giving me a pity laugh.

“Flirting with my brother in front of me? Seriously?! Is it not obvious how much I want you?”. Chris confessed his nose touching mine making me gulp, my thighs closing together accidentally.

There was no doubt Chris was attractive but hell if I knew he liked me shit I’d probably let him fuck me or something.

“You? Want me?” I said slightly confused and utterly shocked and he takes a deep breath.

“you have no fucking idea how much I want you, and I have no problem showing him that your my girl”. Chris gave me a sly smile picking me up by my ass carrying me downstairs to his room.

“C-Chris wait-“. I was cut off by him kissing me and I melt into his touch. His hands grip my ass tighter making me gasp, his tongue massaging mine as I moan into the kiss.

“Strip”. He demands standing me up and I tilt my head. And he gives me those eyes and immediately comply beginning to peal of my clothes leaving me in a matching set of orange. Chris’s favourite colour.

“Fuck ma you look so pretty..all for me right?” He asks his hands playing with my bra strap making my panties dampen.

“Yes Chris- all for you”. I match his gaze and he smirked pushing me on the bed as I scooted back leaving him room to climb above me.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to fuck you”. Chris leaves a soft kiss to my cheek practically ripping my panties off me and I squirm.

“Chris! I liked those!”. I whine and he rolls his eyes pulling down his sweatpants and boxers in one movement and his thick, and painfully hard cock springs out hitting his stomach and my heart beat picks up

how the fuck was that supposed to fit inside me?

Chris took in my nervous expression and let out a soft laugh placing his hands on my thighs

“Spread ur legs for me”. He taps my legs and I spread them apart revealing my wet pussy, the arousal glistening on my inner thighs.

he runs a finger along my slit and I jolt slightly at the sudden sensation.

“shit- ur so wet, did i make you like this? Or was it my brother”. Chris asked tilting his head, his jawn clenched ans my breath hitched as he continued moving his finger.

“No answer? Guess I’ll fuck the answer out of you”. Chris pressed my legs against my chest before slamming his cock deep inside me, stretching me out painfully I almost couldn’t take it.

“f-fuck Chris! T-too much!”. I stutter trying to push his hand away but he quickly slaps it away, using my legs as leverage to begin pounding my inside me.

Chris didn’t give me time to adjust to his large size, tears already forming on my eyes from the pleasure.

“shit- your pussy feels so good, better than I’ve imagined”. He let out a deep groan watching how my pussy sucked him in, Chris’s hips driving into mine as I squint my eyes shut.

“Already becoming a mess on my cock? Should’ve kept matt here so he could see how much of slut you are for me”. Chris grips my neck angling his hips to thrust deeper and I squeal, my eyes meeting with his blues, an electric feeling shooting through me.

He wouldn’t let up his pace, his cock plunging into my tight hole as the pain turned to pleasure thankfully as my cunt morphed to fit his dick.

And Chris was fucking right, I was a slut for him and I has tried to hide it this whole time by being innocent and flirtatious with his brother but the second I was underneath him, I was begging for him to touch me

“Oh shitt- d-don’t stop- fuck”. I throw my head back on the soft pillows, moaning curses breathlessly, my tits bouncing with his quick and hard movements, bound to leave bruises between my thighs burning with sensation.

“mmph fuck- wasn’t planning on it pretty girl”. He moaned, completely infatuated with how I wrapped around him perfectly, like I was made for him. And shit- was he made for me.

She felt so good, almost as if her pussy and every thing about her was made for me.

I couldn’t get enough of her, the Moans and squeaks of my name leaving her swollen lips could’ve made me cum on the spot.

the way she could barley form a sentence as I fucked her, and I wasn’t even close to being done with her yet.

I was going to make sure she knew that she was mine, my fucking girl.

“Chris-you feel so good”. She moaned my name again, turning me on much more than it should’ve, the way her eyes barely opened, and how she’d bite her and stare at me grasping her breasts.

“yeah? you like when I fuck you dumb like this? Can’t even get a word out?”. I taunt, I gripped her neck tighter, her legs finding their way up on my shoulders crying out my name like it’s the only one she knew.

I couldn’t even answer, the things he were asking me required my full attention and shit- I was so far gone.

“I suggest you answer me ma because your about to to cum”. Chris presses his chest on mine, our noses touching as he breathed heavily into my mouth while I reciprocated the same action.

“mm-m I-fuck I-i love it”. I shudder on each word, praying he heard me because I really could not talk right now. I squeezed my eyes shut and he chuckled seeing how speechless he fucked.

“God I could listen to you like this all day”. Chris grunted into my ear as I felt the stomach coil I had began to burst unexpectedly from the overwhelming pleasure.

Chris made me squirt

“S-shit! I’m sorry I-“. I shook as the fluids made a mess over his lower stomach but gasping as he didn’t slow down.

“Never apologize that was hot as fuck- got one more in you?”. He pants resting his head on my shoulder quickening his pace and I whimper gripping his back.

“Oh god Chris- I-I can’t”. My nails run down his back making marks and he bites his bottom lip as I pulled him closer.

His hips pushing into mine, as my juices had coated his cock, leaking out of me creating a wet sensation of our sex.

“You can take it baby, being such a good girl, fuck just one more”. He let out a shaky moan throwing a my leg around his waist and I let out a loud moan at the angle Chris’s cock hit, brushing my g-spot.

“C-Chris ur so deep-“. I let out pornographic sounds and he gave me a deep kiss before pressing his hand where his dick was poking through.

his hand pressed down on the bulge in my stomach and I felt the tears run down my face from the overwhelming pleasure.

“that’s all me baby- fuck I love ur pussy so much-“. He stutters throwing his head as hair sticks to his forehead, the sight was more than appealing.

His slightly parted lips producing whimpers, curses and moans of my name. The way he squeezed my hips making sure I could feel every thick inch of him and the sweat coating over his body.

Her lips parted releasing pants and moans of my name and the occasional “fuck”, her hair now sweated out with hickeys along her neck and tits reminding her that she was mine now. The way her nails would grip my back drawing marks that showed how much she enjoyed it.

“Oh shit- ma- can I cum inside you? M’need you so bad-“. He moans into my neck and I shiver and chant yes’s.

Chris released his seed inside me triggering a second hard orgasm for me, creaming his dick as my body shook.

I turned my head to lay on the pillow before he could catch a glimpse of me, slowly sliding his cock out of me.

He took one look at me and his eyes immediately shifted to one of concern

“wait wait shit- did I hurt you?”. Chris started, seeing how my legs shook from the orgasm I just had.

“please talk to me”. He cupped my cheeks and I gave him a soft smile.

“I’m fine Chris that was- shit- the best sex I’ve ever had”. I let out a quiet sigh and a smirk tugged at his lips as he pulled me into a bridal style hold.

“Well come on let’s get you cleaned up, I wanna spend time with my girl”. He giggled like a child and I rolled my eyes as he carried me into the bathroom running a warm bath for both of us

“No seriously tho your okay?”. He said softly rubbing my shoulders as we soaked in the warm tub.

“Chris the way you put that dick on me I’m more than ok”. I kissed his cheek and his cheeks flushed a bit as he leaned back against the tub whilst I’m in his arms.

She’s really my girl.

@sturniolopowers @gdsvhtwa @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @worldlxvlys @chrisslut25 @princessbetsy123-blog @mattslolita @guccifrog @blahbel668 @mattsneezing @trickywritters @hearts4chriss @nonamegirlxsturniolo @luvmxtt @theyluv-meee @hoesformatt @luv4kozume-deactivated20240512 @kikisturnioloo @itzdarling @pepsiimaxx @babyddolly @iiheartstef @junnniiieee07 @vanteguccir @ast3ro1dzz @sturniolowhore @st7rnioioss @emma4eva @braindead4l @ihearttsyouu @kqyslyho3 @imaslut4kehlani @sturnsfav @sunsetsturniolos @sturniololoverr @gamermattsgf @lilyloveschris @dlyansworld @chrisloyalgf @soimightlikeoldmen69 @abbie13sworld @ineedchriscock @sturniol0s @chrissgirlsstuff @luhsexcbihh @nickgetsmewetter @rubyjaneaxx @love4chris

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Would I be the asshole if I refused to pay my phone bill?

📱🧾♿️ <- To recognize my post for later :)

The title is probably already a bit of a red flag, but I genuinely didn’t know how else to word it…

For context: I am a disabled, chronically and mentally ill trans guy who recently turned 20. I haven’t left home yet for a lot of reasons, some being that my parents promised to let me live rent-free so long as I was in college (which I am, just not currently for the summer) as well as the fact that they really haven’t raised me to be very independent and rely solely on them (which is honestly a whole other can of worms), but primarily because of my disability. It isn’t safe for me to live on my own, as I faint commonly, cannot stand up for more than maybe fifteen minutes at a time roughly, and sometimes am unable to eat for long periods of time due to debilitating nausea which leads to weakness. I also have severe chronic pain in my limbs and gut, something I’ve had most of my life, while my chronic illness I’ve only had for about a year and a half now and am still struggling to adjust to.

Because of my disability, I also can’t work a traditional job. I offer art commissions online, because I’m very passionate about art and it’s one of the few things I’m good at, and I haul in a decent amount, but certainly not enough to live off of. I make enough to set aside some good savings (I’m currently saving for a wheelchair, as that might grant me more freedom and the potential to get a job at least for the summer) while also indulging myself in buying the occasional fatty treat (I’m very underweight so that’s not an issue, and I was raised essentially in an almond mom household all my life, so this form of eating is really the only sense of control I have over my life, as I’m fully dependent on my parents elsewise).

The issue has come upon relatively recently. I feel like a huge entitled brat for it as well, and if others believe the same, I sincerely don’t blame you.

My mom sat me down the other day and said that she expected me to start paying at least one bill. She offered my cheapest bill (which would be for my phone; my parents bought it, and it’s theirs, they’re just letting me use it as my own.. I don’t own a whole lot of “my” items myself) and asked what I thought about that. I was fully honest with her: if I had a steady stream of income, I wouldn’t hesitate to offer to pay for all of my bills, but with the way it stands, I just don’t make enough month-to-month to regularly afford the bill. I also do my commissions through my phone, so if I could afford the bill, my phone would be turned off, and I’d be unable to continue.

My mom got very upset and started talking to me like a child (though she really has every right to, honestly, and I know that). She went on a very long rant about teaching me responsibility, and how I can’t rely on my parents forever, and that I need to grow up at some point… All things that I fully agree with. I sincerely want to! I want nothing more than to be fully independent. But the way it stands, my parents cover my entire medical bills and they pay for my meds… And I just don’t make enough to survive on my own, and I can just barely afford a meal or two from a sandwich shop I enjoy twice a month to keep my sanity in check because I’m usually bedbound.

I tried explaining to her that I would if I could, sincerely, and that I’m not trying to be a leech or lazy, but she wasn’t having it. She just scolded me and said that if I can afford to eat out every month, then I can afford the phone bill. But again, with the way things are, I don’t think I’d be able to do it every month without tapping into my savings, which again, is for my wheelchair so I can regain some sense of freedom for myself. I’m seriously debating just telling her no straight out, but I don’t know what the aftermath might look like…

So, sincerely: Am I in the wrong here? Should I just swallow my protests and cough up the money somehow? I really don’t know and would love an outside perspective.

[scoonsalicious]

5.4 Major*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, explicit sexual content (hand stuff, fingering) Minors GTFO: I don't serve your kind here.

Word Count: 900

Previously On...: Lily knows Bucky's been lying to her, and she's surmised he's on a date. That's got to end.

A/N: Posting a little early today to make up for yesterday being so late!

I've decided to postpone my break by a few days, so I will give you Chapter 6 in its entirety before I take my mini-hiatus. It's only three parts long, so I will start my break on Thursday, 5/16 and resume posting on Thursday, 5/23. It's a better place in the story to leave you, a little bit more dramatic than at the end of this chapter, like I had originally planned, lol. It felt off leaving you all here.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You flopped your body down onto your bedsheets with a giggle. “Full marks, Sergeant,” you gasped between panting breaths. “Once again.” It was all the two of you could do to get back to your apartment without ripping each other’s clothes off.

Bucky laughed and came to lay down alongside you, propping his head up on his vibranium arm. Leaning over, he bent down to kiss you. “I couldn’t have done it without you, doll” he said with a grin, but then his face grew serious. “Seriously. It’s never been like this with other girls.”

You blushed and playfully pushed at his rock hard shoulder. “Come on, Bucky,” you said with a laugh. “You’ve already got me naked and exactly where you want me; you don’t need to sweet talk me.”

Bucky placed a hand on your sweat-slicked hip, gently turning you to your side so you were facing him. “I’m not,” he told you, searching your eyes with the utmost sincerity in his expression. He pushed back a strand of damp hair away from your face. “I’ve been with… well, a fair number of girls over the years.” At the raise of your eyebrow, he held his flesh hand up defensively. “What? I’m 105 years old, doll. I’ve been around the block.” You couldn’t hold back your laugh at that, and he kissed your nose before continuing: 

“Like I said, a fair number of girls. And none of them, not a single one, ever made me feel the way I have when I’m with you.” He cupped your cheek in his hand and you felt your cheeks flame in a blush. “Come on, sugar. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it, too. That this,” he took his hand off your cheek to motion between your two bodies, “isn’t something special.”

“It’s been a little over a day, Bucky,” you chastised him gently with a smile, afraid to admit that you, too, felt this was something unique. “Maybe thirty hours?” Thirty hours in which the two of you had somehow managed to have sex eight times, not that you were counting. You couldn’t believe how quickly he was able to get it up again after he came, but he’d assured you that was his favorite side effect of the serum that had made him a super soldier. It had quickly become your favorite, too.

Bucky’s face fell, and you realized that he wasn’t going to judge you if you told him the truth, because he felt it just the same. “The best thirty hours of my life,” you clarified, tucking your fingers under his chin so you could bring his gaze back up to yours. “And yes, I feel it, too. It’s never been like this before. Not with anyone else.”

“Not even with your ex-husband?” Bucky asked with a playful smirk.

“Especially not with Conner,” you told him with a roll of your eyes. “Took me years to teach that man where my clit was, and even on his best days, he still needed a map.”

“Oh, you mean this, right here?” Bucky deftly slid his hand between your thighs, finding your hub of nerves almost instinctively and began to lightly trace it with his finger, sending an electric tingle through your body. 

“Fuck, yes,” you exhaled, reaching up to grab Bucky’s shoulder for support as he increased the pressure. He moved his metal arm from under his head and slid it behind your shoulders as he pulled you flush with his chest.

“I got you, sweet girl,” he murmured into your hair as he moved his fingers faster against you, occasionally dipping them down to your entrance to collect some of your slick for lubrication. You hitched a leg up over his hip to allow him better access to your core. 

“Jesus, Bucky,” you moaned, feeling yourself building to the crescendo. Taking your hand off his shoulder, you grabbed his wrist, guiding his movements so you could grind your desperate cunt against his hand.

“Do you want my fingers, sugar?” Bucky panted. You looked up at him to find his gaze locked on where his hand had vanished between your thighs, his pupils completely blown from lust. “Do you want me to fuck you with my fingers until you squirt all over me?”

You couldn’t even get out a coherent word, just a pathetic whine that turned into a near scream when Bucky plunged three of his digits into you. The air was full of the frantic sounds of your combined breathing, along with the rapid squelch of his fingers driving in and out of your cunt with a speed you didn’t know was humanly possible. It felt like he was hitting every part of you, even parts you didn’t know existed until now. Every time with Bucky felt that way.

“How you doing, sugar?” Bucky asked as he continued to drive his fingers home. “You okay?”

You nodded and grunted in the affirmative, loving how he always checked in on you. You were so much more than okay. You were transcendent. 

Soon, you felt that intense, unfamiliar build up that only he had been able to pull out of you once before, on the living room floor. The pleasure was so intense, you couldn’t see straight and you were exploding all over again, clinging to Bucky for dear life as you screamed his name. 

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

[aprilias]

Wait what was that about Pecco? Finding out about the whole jm bullshit now. What happened with Pecco?

Hi anon!

I think it’s pretty obvious that there’s a lot of people on here that don’t like Pecco (me being one of them) and at first for me it was cause I thought he was massively overhyped and something was off, but there are bigger reasons.

The first one is that he’s made some kind of borderline but misogynistic comments in the past, the main one I can recall was comparing his bike to a girl on her period because it was being temperamental. I believe there were other kinds of comments like this made by him and Jack Miller but this was when I was very new to the sport so I can’t properly remember back to 2020.

He was also charged with drink driving back in 2022 during the summer break. He was 3x over the legal limit and he basically excused it by saying he was celebrating his win from Assen. The apology he posted was absolutely terrible, a complete non-apology tbh, and the way that Ducati dealt with it was by not allowing the media to ask questions, and his ex-teammate (Miller again) would berate journalists before they even got a chance to ask.

There was also the Dennis Rodman helmet saga. Basically in Misano (2022?), one of his home races, he dedicated a helmet to the former basketball player. Rodman was at his peak before Pecco was even alive so it was weird anyway but even more so when you look into Dennis Rodman. The guy has had several lawsuits for SA, drink driving and domestic violence, and also one for a hit and run. He also supports Donald Trump, and during his presidency, he was sent to North Korea to “negotiate” deals for prisoners and became besties with Kim Jong Un. It just feels very weird to do a tribute helmet to this guy, who stopped playing in the NBA when Bagnaia was 3, especially a few months after he was also done for drink driving.

There’s also his general attitude that a lot of people personally don’t like. For me we reached the point of no return when he said he wanted satellite bikes to be slower when the title fight was between himself, Martin and Bezzecchi around this time last year. Apparently it was out of context but still another massive own goal.

I can’t quite remember if there’s more with Bagnaia but these are the main things that come to mind, combined with the fact he takes zero responsibility for any of these actions (and Ducati don’t let him either). It’s actually shocked me that there’s someone more dislikable than Pecco but Jorge has done it with ease.

If anyone feels like I’ve missed something then feel free to add it as always!

[blackberrysummerblog]

Hi all! Thank you @rimeswithpurple, @cutestkilla, @thewholelemon, and @forabeatofadrum for the recent tags! I can’t believe it’s already this late in the year. It’s not Sunday yet, but I’m working tomorrow so I’m just going ahead and posting early so I can feel like I did something. I know tomorrow can be a hard day for some, but here’s wishing a very Happy Mother’s Day to those of you to whom it applies, and a peaceful day to those for whom it’s a little more difficult ❤️

I’ve been relatively busy with my writing this week (GASP) so I have a couple of things to share. First, some Baz POV from the second chapter of The Field Trap—things are looking up at last:

Eight snakes and a dragon. I knew he would be wet when he came blustering in—it’s why I unpacked his rucksack and laid his spare clothes out by the lit stove—but I still wasn’t prepared for the sight of Simon Snow’s ridiculously thin t-shirt and uniform pants cleaving to his body as though they’d become part of his skin. His chest is heaving, his curls are dripping in his eyes, and he’s holding aloft a brace of four large rabbits that he’s already cleaned.

Honey, I’m home, he’d said, and I know it was a joke, but if I wasn’t dead before, I certainly am now.

“Wipe your feet before you come in any farther,” I say shortly. “Dry clothes are by the fire.” I turn my back and hear him laying down the rabbits and his bow and arrows. Two loud thumps signal his shoes coming off, and then there’s the slushy sound of wet cloth rubbing against itself as Simon makes his way over to the fire.

“You laid my clothes out for me,” he says, like he’s awestruck. I bite the inside of my cheek and stare up at the ceiling, trying not to visualize what’s going on behind me as I hear his sodden clothes hitting the floor. “Baz?”

“What.” Who am I kidding, I’m very much visualizing all of it.

“You can look.” His throat sounds dry. I shake my head, eyes squeezed shut now with the effort of holding my fangs in. “Do you not want to?”

I try to think about everything I told him earlier. He’s going to end up following the Mage to the end of our world someday, and I’ll have to stand with my family. I think about my fangs, ready to burst from my gums at just a hair’s more provocation. I think about how inexperienced with all this I am, and I feel hopeless. And yet…

I turn around.

My second share is from the piece I’m doing for COBB, which I’m really happy to say that the first 5000 word chapter is completely written for. I feel strangely…competent? LOL. Here’s a bit of Dev POV:

And he did. I watched with a cold sort of horror as my cousin, always the more powerful magician of the two of us, stood on our balcony and asked the universe for a handsome man with blue eyes, golden skin dusted with stars, and curls that were neither fully blond nor brown. He would be strong, brave of heart, and make the best sour cherry scones in the world (sour cherry? That’s not even a real type of scone, I wanted to say). Instead I’d said, “That doesn’t sound impossible,” in spite of the sparkly-sounding skin. Baz had given me stink-eye as only he could and can, before adding the coup de grace: “He will have the blood-red wings of a dragon, and a tail.”

It had taken all I had not to burst into laughter at that, but my headstrong cousin was already pressing rose petals into the potion and blowing his breath onto them as he tossed them out into the night air. “Baz,” I’d admonished, but the spell was cast, his heartbroken wish already caught by the breeze and curling up, up, towards where the full moon hung heavy and silent in the sky.

Have a great week everyone! No-pressure tags: @drowninginships @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @nightimedreamersworld @arthurkko @artsyunderstudy @facewithoutheart @iamamythologicalcreature @aristocratic-otter @tender-ministrations @valeffelees @mooncello @confused-bi-queer @beastmonstertitan @prettygoododds @youarenevertooold @raenestee @roomwithanopenfire @asocialpessimist @hushed-chorus @papierhaikuphoto @stitchy-queerista @orange-peony @brilla-brilla-estrellita @ivelovedhimthroughworse @bookish-bogwitch @c0nsumemy5oul @aceumbrellaheroes @larkral @letraspal @stardustasincocaine @cows4247 @shrekgogurt @j-nipper-95 @ic3-que3n @ileadacharmedlife @wellbelesbian @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @onepintobean @theearlgreymage @imagineacoolusername @mostlymaudlin @shutup-andletme-go @sailorblossoms @hertragedyconnoisseur @yellobb @ionlydrinkhotwater @alleycat0306

[writingquestionsanswered]

I know you have given lots of advice on motivation/writers block, but I was wondering if I could get advice on a specific scenario. anytime I have a great idea, I begin writing and everything goes well, but when I have to stop for school, work, ect., I can't pick it back up when I go back. I have the full idea ready and still know what I want to happen next, and everything I've written so far is good, but it's like the flow of the story left me, and I don't know how to get the flow back, so I abandon it. this is why I struggle finishing things, which makes me sad

Re-Igniting Writing Flow After a Break

This is something I struggled with in the past, and I've since developed two habits which are absolute game changers for me:

1 - Leave Yourself a "Next Up" Note Within Your WIP - Even if you have an extensive outline or scene list, at the point where you leave off (right where you'd pick back up the next time you write), leave yourself a note about what comes next. Go right from the flow of your memory... what else needs to happen in order to finish the current moment, event, or scene? What comes next? Be as detailed as possible. Note other important things like things you want to check or research before you start writing or things you want to keep in mind as you move forward. Do this every time you finish a writing session, eve if you intend to sit back down later that day to write.

2 - Read Back a Scene or Chapter and Move Forward from There - When I sit down to write, I don't ever pick back up exactly where I left off. I always go back to the beginning of the previous scene--or, if it's been a while, sometimes a chapter or two. I read back through what's there, sometimes making changes as I go, until I get caught back up with where I left off, and then my "next up" note helps me transition between what was already written and what I need to write. This is a great jump start to your previous momentum.

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[devilsrecreation]

Skink personality headcanons

Inspired by/adding onto @spinnysocks ‘s post

Nyeusi:

-Along with being the stealthiest skink, he’s also the quietest of the bunch. While Ed and Neema don’t talk but still communicate through sounds, Nyeusi prefers to stay absolutely silent. When he does make noises like hissing or flicking his tongue, it’s only around the skinks (and Ushari when he was alive). Only time where he hisses or flicks his tongue at someone else is to insult them

-While he doesn’t have anger issues like Kenge does, it’s not that hard to piss him off. All you have to do is shove him aside and he’s already plotting revenge against you

-The skinks sometimes forget he’s there. They’ll be talking, Nyeusi suddenly flicks his tongue to comment on something, and Njano would be like “Have you been here the whole time?”

-Romance repulsed aroace; you can go do your thing with your partner, he’ll just he over by his favorite rock trying not to puke

Nyata:

-She’s one of the least likely to get mad other than Njano. She gets more amused if anything

-She’s very sassy and quick-witted. She can come up with the best comebacks on the spot and it never ceases to amuse Shupavu

-She’s definitely very smug, often mocking Nyeusi after beating him in a race. She’s competitive like that

-Honestly has a little respect for Kinyonga. Not everyone can outrun her. I like to think after Kinyonga escaped her and Nyeusi, she went “Huh…respect” before getting up to go after her. I’m not saying she likes being beaten, but she’s a good sport lol

Green female skink (who my friend has named Nyororo):

-I have a feeling she’s the flirty one, managing to sweet-talk her way into getting what she wants. All she has to do is bat her eyelashes, maybe tickle someone with her tail, and she’s getting her way no matter what. It’s only until after she’s long gone when you’d realize you’ve been tricked

-She always knows exactly what to say in every situation in order to trick someone, it’s actually kinda scary

-She’s actually known Shupavu for a while, about as long as Njano has. Maybe even longer. They’ll tell each other everything and it’s the one time Nyororo’s sweetness isn’t a trick. It’s why she sometimes joins Shupavu and Njano on missions

-You could definitely beat her at her own game by flirting with/complimenting her back. It’s not super easy though. You have to have a certain trick up your sleeve and that trick is being a girl. She can handle guys, but if it’s a girl flirting with her, she’ll get all flustered

Waza:

-Waza’s the mediator and the most chill of the group. When two skinks are arguing, he’s the one to step in and resolve it either by talking to them or by slapping them with his tail (whichever is easier at the moment lol)

-I like to think his keen eye is…inconvenient at times. He notices when someone tries to sneak away or catches someone doing weird stuff when they think they’re alone, yet he couldn’t see where Kinyonga went when the skinks were chasing her. Waza wasn’t paying attention when someone does something suspicious but somehow knows all the cutesy nicknames Reirei calls Goigoi when she thinks she’s alone

-He’s sometimes quick to assume

-Has a plan for everything cuz he comes up with all kinds of scenarios in his head

Orange skink, who that same friend has called Hasira (anger):

-You know those grumpy, sometimes old characters who get annoyed by just about everything the main character does? Yeah, that’s Hasira

-He’s definitely the eldest in the group, about middle-aged in skink years

-He’s seen it all, but not in a “wise mentor” kind of way. It’s more like “I’ve been through a lot of bullshit and I’m just done” lmao

-He’s also kind of a reluctant babysitter to everyone. Shupavu may be the leader, but he’s the one making sure no one actually dies hfhfgfg

[luchicm04]

You will forever be my always

Masterlist

Summary: It's been months, and he's still obsessed.

Pairing: Tonowari/Omatikaya!Fem Reader

Word count: 4.7k

Overall warnings: teasing, hurt/comfort, implied character death, fluff, mourning, edging, eventual smut⚠️🔞

All characters belong to Avatar, and all rights are reserved to me.

A/N: This is my second original fic. English is not my mother language so if I have many spelling mistakes, please let me know. Hope you liked it <3

posted on ao3

Tonowari had been heartbroken, years back, when his mate had died during childbirth. Both Ronal and her baby died at the same hour. The clan grieved the loss of their Tsahìk; Tsireya and Aonung grieved the loss of their mother; Tonowari grieved for his mate and lost baby. 

That was a long time ago, 4 years back. Tonowari’s grief came to a halt the moment he met you, the eldest Sully sibling, allowing your family to stay. 

“You there. Sully child,” he called out to you, waving you over. 

“Yes, Olo’eyktan. What is it?” 

He gestured for you to follow. You noticed the other Na’vi staring as you passed by. He led you inside the chieftain’s marui. There, he shut the door-like fabric and sighed. 

“Come here.” 

“Is there something wrong?” you asked. 

Not saying anything else, the Olo’eyktan closed the distance between you two. A pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. Before you could speak, your lips were captured by the chief’s. 

You stood there for a moment until you snapped out of it and moved away from him. “W-what are you doing?!” 

He didn’t move, his arms still wrapped around your waist as he pulled you closer to him. He finally spoke. His tone was harsh, but not mean. More pleading than anything else. 

“Give me a chance.” 

“What do you mean? A chance...?” you questioned, bewildered and still shocked from what had happened before. 

Tonowari let one of his arms slide. The hand he had on your waist was slowly placed around your back, pulling you even closer to him before his hand started to move upward. Instinctively, your eyes closed halfway and went to look at the floor, blushing. 

“A chance at happiness. Let me make you happy.” 

“But... I don’t understand, you...” 

He stopped his hand from continuing the path it was making and sighed, trying to keep himself composed, hoping for your cooperation. Hoping for your understanding. With another movement, both his hands went to your waist again, holding you firmly. 

“Look at me, please.” 

You looked up at him hesitantly. His eyes held a lot of feelings you couldn’t decipher. 

Tonowari’s hands tightened around your waist a little bit more. A hand lifted itself to your chin, raising your head as he stared straight in your eyes. 

“Let me love you. I’ve waited and searched far and wide for someone like you. Someone who understands the grief of losing their partner, of losing someone precious to their life. I see that person in you.” 

You stared at him in surprise. “How did you know...?” 

He smiled at your confusion. It was obvious he was getting through to you. He finally spoke again, still gripping your chin to keep you looking at him. 

“A person’s eyes speak volumes. There is so much pain in yours, and I know how you feel. The only way to make it better is to allow someone to ease it for you.” 

“Tonowari, I... I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” you whispered, half scared and half anxious. 

His grip on your chin tightened. He leaned closer to you, until only mere inches separated your bodies. His hands slowly started to wander to your hips. 

“Let me make you ready.” 

You gazed at him. His gorgeous ocean-blue eyes, his splendid tattoos decorating his face... He was undeniable beautiful. The truth is that he caught your attention from the moment you saw him the day your family got here, but he always seemed so untouchable, so intimidating and serious. Not that it didn’t stop you from having sinful thoughts for several nights though. 

His hand moved further down from your hips and up to your back again as he continued to pull you towards him. Tonowari then let go of your chin, moving his other hand towards your neck with his thumb rubbing circles over your skin as his face moved closer to yours. Your breaths became heavier the moment your lips almost touched each other. 

“W-wait... what i-if someone sees us?” 

He chuckled, pulling you closer to his body. His hands traveled back to your hips again as he spoke. 

“Let them see. I am the Olo’eyktan. I can do what I want... and I want you.” 

“B-but... my parents, my siblings, your kids -” 

“Forget about them.” His grip tightened even more... to the point it almost felt like a pinch, though it may have just been his strength. “They’ll forget about it too once we are together. Once I make you mine for lifetimes to come.” 

You felt your heart would eventually burst out of your body with the speed it was beating. Suddenly, you could no longer think straight. The more you thought about Tonowari's words, the less you wanted to think at all. The amount of stress you had been subjected to for the last days had been crushing you. Your parents' expectations, the need to check on your brothers and sisters, the return of the sky people, the worry for spider, being forced out of your home and having to adapt to a new environment where its people did nothing to help you nor make you feel welcome. Even your past relationship, while sharing mutual affection, felt more like a duty to the people than a free choice. You no longer wanted to think about it. For once, you chose to be selfish. Tonowari was right there, declaring his feelings for you and after that simple proposal, your already dazed mind just snapped as you gave in and kissed him 

Tonowari was surprised when your lips pressed against his. Your kiss was passionate, hot, and most importantly, filled with emotion. This wasn’t just some innocent crush; this was a deep and meaningful need for each other. His hand slid up further, gripping your hair a little bit. His other hand slid back down, to your back again, as he pulled you closer, pressing you against his body. 

You couldn’t help that small moan that escaped from your mouth, but you no longer cared about being subtle. He had given his word that you would not be disturbed, and any rational thoughts you held on to had disappeared from your mind the second his skin touched yours. 

His hand moved to your side, where he scooped you up from your waist. His lips never left yours, the intense feeling of lust and love both being satisfied at the same time. His other hand slid down once more, and this time landed on your rear... holding you tightly against him. His breathing was heavy, but he didn’t care. He was ready to spend a lifetime of pleasure with you by his side. 

While this experience was extremely pleasurable to you, you were running out of air. He had no problem; he was Metkayina after all. They could hold on to their breaths for Eywa knows how long. However, despite having spent weeks in the clan, you were still learning. And the fact that this whole... everything had caught you by surprise didn’t help. Regretfully, you separated your lips from his and your breath came back in soft but hoarse gasps. 

He was breathing heavily as well, though not as much as you. His grip on your rear and back loosened slightly. He didn’t want to suffocate you. 

Tonowari stared at you with desire, his eyes flickering from your face to your body. He was about to say something when a knock was heard on the door. He growled low in his throat, annoyed at the interruption. 

You were equally upset, but the logical part of you told you that this was to be expected. He was the Olo’eyktan, the leader of the clan. If his people needed him, he should be always open to help in any way possible. After slightly regaining your composure, you moved away from him. “You should go see what they want. It could be something serious.” 

He nodded, his grip finally loosening fully. His face was flushed with adrenaline, and despite the fact that he was irritated at the interruption, he knew that you were right. He took a deep breath, walking over to the door and flapping it open. 

While he left to deal with whatever had happened, you silently just stood there. You began to feel a little uncomfortable with the passing minutes. He was standing right outside the door, but it still felt weird to be inside his home. Having nothing to do but wait, your eyes unintentionally began to wander around. You knew it was wrong to peek at his personal things, but you felt like it was okay. Sort of. After all, you both had been kissing just a little while ago. While looking around, you could see Tsireya and Aonung's separate pods. You imagined being part of the leader's family gave you such benefits. You also saw spears held in the walls, different tools and furnitures. Nevertheless, one object under a blanket caught your attention. A leather headpiece carved with a big seashell on its front. 

That headpiece was actually the symbol of the Tsahìk of a Metkayina clan. Tonowari had hidden it before you entered, as he didn't want you to see him as just a leader looking for a replacement, but as a man who loved and cared for you. 

After a few minutes, Tonowari eventually returned, shutting the door behind him. As he stepped inside, his eyes caught sight of you standing near his children's pods, staring at the headpiece in your hands. He slowly walked over to you. 

“Did this belong to the previous Tsahìk?” 

Tonowari’s eyes widened when you asked that. He didn’t expect you to recognize it as part of his clan’s tradition, and it was rarely used outside of ceremonies. 

With a nod, he replied with a soft tone. 

“Yes, it did. My mate, Ronal... she wore it during her time as Tsahìk. That is, until her death. Sadly, my children never had a chance to witness their mother rule as Tsahìk.” 

You hummed in understanding. It made sense for him to keep it. Ronal had been Tsahìk of the Metkayina and his mate for years. Still... 

Tonowari realized how you were staring at the headpiece, and how your eyes were still unmoving. He walked closer and picked it up, gently placing it on your head. A sign of him naming you the future Tsahìk. 

He spoke, his hands placing themselves on your hips. 

“If everything is alright with you, would you... come spend the night with me in my quarters? That is, if you wish to... become my life partner.” 

Although you had accepted Tonowari's previous offer, this was too much. Especially after spending time in his home. You suddenly realized how much you didn't belong in that picture. He had two children the same age as your brothers and sisters. He had had a loving mate who he still loved; you could see it the instant he looked at the headpiece. He had a life made up, and you weren't sure how you fit in it. “Tonowari, you can't just name me the Tsahìk of your clan. I'm only an outsider, and you already have Tsireya as Tsakarem. Besides, I haven't even finished my training.” 

Tonowari sighed softly, your rejection hitting hard. It hurt to see how you did not believe yourself to be a good match for him. He had thought that, perhaps, after all this time, you would grow to care for him and love him to the point where you would accept his office. He was wrong. 

He slowly removed the headpiece from your head, placing the ceremonial piece on its previous place. Then, he turned around, walking over to a bag hanging from the ceiling, opening it and rummaging around. 

You said nothing, hoping he didn’t take it very badly. In the best case, you could just forget about this and go back to your normal lives. Or maybe see each other without formalizing anything. At worst, you didn’t know what he would do. He was truly a gentle person but having power over a whole clan made him dangerous if he wanted to be. You just hoped your family wouldn’t get involved in this. Or find out at all. 

After a few minutes, Tonowari took out something. He walked over to you, holding out a necklace in his hand. It was carved from a seashell, with the same emblem as the headpiece, though this one looked like it was made for you. 

“This is a tradition I wish to begin. All Metkayina Olo’eyktans give a carved necklace to their intended. It is a sign of the beginning of a formal relationship. You have yet to answer, though. Will you be my mate for lifetimes to come?” 

You stared at the necklace. Ot was beautiful, shining with various sea colors that made it look like some kind of precious relic. It appeared to be the perfect size for you, too. He must have somehow figured out your measurements. “I... It’s beautiful. I thank you, truly, I do, but... are you sure you want me?” 

Tonowari nodded silently as you stared at the necklace. It was indeed the perfect length. He had studied your measurements on the few occasions he had happened to meet you at close range. 

He smiled at your gratitude, but his smile turned into a sad frown as you continued your questioning. 

“Yes, I am sure. If there was a doubt in my mind, I wouldn’t be giving you this necklace. I know that you are afraid, that you are insecure about being a proper match for me. But know this; my heart desires you.” 

You sighed, feeling like your world was about to crumble depending on what you would decide. But, in the end, you had made your choice long before this conversation. “As mine does for you.” You turned around, waiting for him to place it on you. 

He nodded again and moved to place the necklace around your neck. He was careful, not wanting to accidentally hurt you in any way. After securing it, he took you by your hips again, pulling you close to him. 

“Now that you belong to me, let us celebrate. Come,” he opened the door to his pod, leading you inside. 

Your steps started hesitant, then slowly gaining confidence. As your father would say: to hell with it. The more you thought about it, the better your choices seemed. Both of you were lonely, filled with responsibilities and under lots of stress and feelings too complicated to comprehend. This was a logical decision. There was nothing wrong with it. He was the leader of the clan, so what? You were Tsahìk- in-training, learning from your grandmother back in the forest and firstborn daughter of Toruk Makto. He was decades older than you? Well, there was not much to fix there. After being named a hunter and officially an adult, and having actively participated in the war as both a fighter and a healer, you felt mature enough. Besides, your family had begged to be allowed to stay here; becoming Tsahìk could help cement the decision. 

The moment you entered his room, he closed the door behind you. He took you by your hand, leading you closer to his bed. His other hand went to your back again, tracing your curves with his fingers. His grip was firm, but the way he handled you was gentle, as if he feared hurting you. After your body made contact with the bed, he slowly laid next to you, pulling you into his arms. 

His eyes never left you. He was watching intently you, looking to see if you were ready for this... 

You exhaled heavily, opening your eyes to look at him. To really See him, which you did. You saw his tired but shining eyes, his scars obtained after arduous battles, his tattoos symbolizing multiple feats and memories. And you felt seen by him. Your insecurities, your weaknesses, your worries. Your emotions were like a wild current, indomitable and fierce, but he was the shore, gentle and sturdy, ready to receive you and adjust to you no matter the force you inflicted. He was your wall, your support. And you were his spark, like a river that stopped his heart from drying out and filled him with new affection at the same time. Without saying anything, you reached for your braids. 

His heart skipped a beat as he saw you unbraid your hair. You were beautiful. Your silky hair was just begging to be brushed, just begging to be run through with one’s fingers. The way you moved towards him told him just how much you wanted this. He pulled you back into his embrace, pulling your head towards his to rest on his shoulder. A few moments of quiet passed as he just sat there like that, enjoying the peacefulness of the presence of your body against his. 

“I want you, Tonowari.” 

Tonowari closed his eyes as you muttered those words. Hearing them was what he had been waiting for. When the silence came right after, he pulled you even closer to him. He was your Olo’eyktan now, which meant that you belonged to him, and he belonged to you. This had been his wish for a long time, but now, he would make those wishes come true. 

“I want you too.” 

You slowly brought your kuru forward, letting the tendrils slowly interweave together with his. Right there and then, you felt it. Everything he was. Everything he had been. And everything he wished to be. With you. You closed your eyes again in pleasure, resting your head against his broad chest while your hands gripped his arms. Despite your previous experiences, this feeling could not be compared to them. The feeling of choosing and being chosen freely, without duties or expectations in the middle. It was impossibly liberating. You opened your eyes, watching through your completely dilated pupils the way he held you close and listening to his hard breathing. 

Tonowari held you close, feeling your hands grip his arms and feeling your body press gently against his. His breathing sped up, just as yours did. 

Your hands were brushing against the scars in his body, making him shiver slightly from the sensation. His muscles tensed underneath your touch, making his body move closer to yours. His breathing grew more erratic as your fingers tightened into his body. 

With a soft moan, he pulled you even closer, his hands grazing against your lower back and sliding towards your hips. 

You remained clinging to him as he took out your top and bracelets and pulled the cord holding your loincloth together. You gasped, feeling the cold air hit your now naked body. Combined with the newly made bond, everything you experienced felt multiplied by a hundred. Through it, you could see how Tonowari was looking at you, and it was turning you on too much for you to handle it. 

Just looking at your body made him want you more than he ever had before. Your curves were hypnotic as they swayed with your movements. Your hips and breasts moved like waves on the ocean. Your skin was iridescent and soft, making him want to run his hands all over it. 

He put his hands around your waist, bringing you to the edge of the bed. He slid the loincloth off, his eyes never leaving you as he did. Once he saw you fully naked in front of him, his jaw dropped. You truly were flawless. 

“Tonowari... I need you.” 

The sound of your voice was all needed to hear to snap him out of his trance. He pulled himself back to reality and gently laid you down, his gaze never straying your body. He slowly removed his garments as well. As he dropped each piece of his clothing, he stared at his body, unable to tear his eyes away from it. Finally, when he was completely naked, his eyes locked with yours.  

“Say that again.” 

“I need you.” 

Those simple three words, when spoken with such desire, made his body respond to your command instantly. In a few swift moves, he was behind you. His hands gripped your hips tightly. His body against yours, pressing against your back, his hot breath was blowing on your neck. One hand squeezed tight against one of your tights, while the other hand brushed against your back. 

“Again.” 

“I need you; I need you, Tonowari, please.” 

“You will always have me. I am yours, and you are mine. No one else can take me away from you. No one else can lay a finger on you. Not without suffering the consequences. You and your family belong to me now, and I mean that not as your leader, but as your mate. We belong to each other and all that comes with that. No one else will have you, and I would never let anyone take you away from me.” 

His words made your already rapid-beating heart quicken its pace even more. “Wherever our fates take us. I will stay by your side – be it from the forest to the sea, from the start to the end of our time, together.” 

Tonowari smiled. He was happy to know that you would stay by his side, no matter where or when. He knew that having you was the best decision of his life. 

“You are mine. Now and forever. There are no boundaries between us. We will face everything together, and I trust you whole-heartedly. Now,” he gripped your hips tighter, if possible. “Show me just how much you need me.” 

“How would you like me to prove myself?” you asked in a seductive tone. 

“Make me feel like I’m yours. Make me feel loved. Make me want to hold onto you like I’m drowning and you’re my only saving grip. Make yourself mine. Show me how badly you want and need me. Be wild, be daring, be passionate.” 

“Very well.” You leaned to whisper in his ear. “I will make you feel loved unlike anyone ever has. I will make you mine. And we will be truly united for ages to come.” 

Tonowari's entire body tensed up as you whispered in his ear. His fingers gripped your hips even tighter. The way you spoke about making him feel, the way you spoke about making him yours, it was enough to make his body tremble in pleasure just from the words.  

"Words sound good and all, but let's see if you can back them up." 

His free hand went to your chin, and moved your face forward, his mouth meeting yours in a deeply passionate kiss. 

While the two lost yourselves in the kiss, you subtly moved your body to be on top of him, your core meeting something hard, which made you release a moan that was drown by his lips. 

He smirked at your subtle move, as he felt your soft body on top of him. He loved that you weren't shy with him, that you were willing to claim what you wanted. He loved the noise you made and quickly responded, his mouth taking over yours. He was lost in the moment, and he had no plans of stopping any time soon. 

“Will anyone else be interrupting us? Your children?” While you were willing to let it passmthe first time, you couldn’t guarantee the safety of the next person who dared to interrupt you. 

“My children will not enter without warning...” He paused to laugh at the suggestion of them just barging in, and he shook his head. They would never just walk in with something this sensitive going on. “But if they’re ever curious, I’ll inform you. A code only for you to know.” 

“Like what?” 

He gave you a mischievous smile, as he thought of a word for a code. His mind immediately went to your name, but that would be too obvious. So, he decided to use a word linked with your family and clan, one that no one outside of your family would know. 

“If they ever walk in, just say: Meyo Na'vi, yotulka.” 

“What does that stand for?” 

“It means Child of the Forest, my love. Only members of the Metkayina clan would know what that means.” 

“Mmm, I like it. And hearing it from you makes it even more special.” 

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you onto him. Your hips were pressed tight against his, your chest pressed against his. His forehead rested onto yours, as he looked into your eyes. 

“I have something else that I'd like to say to you before we continue. Do you want to hear it?” 

“Of course.” 

He grabbed your hands and placed them on his chest, your fingers feeling his heartbeat. 

“This heart belongs to you, and only you. I pledge it to be yours and yours alone. If it stops beating, that is because I would be dead. It shall only beat fast when you are near, because it wants to be close to you. And when you touch it, it shall thump slowly for you, because you are my only desire. My only love. And nothing can ever replace you.” 

“Tonowari, I love your caring words and affectionate speeches, and Eywa knows I would do unspeakable things for you, but please. Do not make me wait any longer.” 

He chuckled at you being so impatient, and he took that as his cue to finally take control. He took hold of your hips, his hands on your thighs. And he began to move you. Slowly at first, he began to move you in a circular motion, his hips pressing against yours. The more they moved, the more the rhythm sped up, moving your bodies together in sync. 

You whined at the sensation. You had fantasized about this moment for days, but it still felt incomplete. You needed more, needed him, to complete the bond in both body and mine. And he knew it. “Tono...wari... ah.” 

The moment he heard your whine filled with desire, it was all he needed to hear. He was at your command, following every whim of your body. Every movement you made was the signal he needed to bring his movements in tune with yours. He leaned forward onto your neck, his breath hot and heavy on your skin. He bit gently on your neck, letting the sensation send chills throughout your body. 

“Ah! Please, Ma’Tono... I want you now.” 

The way you said his name sent a shiver down his spine, making him shudder in pleasure. Your body began to get him heated, making him want you even more. However, he just looked at you with a grin. You had said he spoke too much, so now he wished to tease you a little.  

“I like hearing you beg. Say it again.” 

“A-ah! Please!” 

Your desperation turned him on like no other. And he knew he'd have you screaming his name soon. 

“Still not a complete sentence. Say it again. And this time, say it like you really mean it. I want to hear it.” 

“Gah! Ma'Tonowari, I beg you. Grant me the honor of finally being able to join you, without any type of limit. Let our union be complete and we may be united until the end of our days. Let our bodies come together and the fruit of this exchange result in a new life” 

The moment you were done, he knew that the words that you felt towards him were more than just mere desire, but complete love and devotion as well. Your desire was his desire now. And it would always be that way. 

"The honor is mine to have you with me, my beloved. We are now one in flesh and in soul. This is our union. So, I command you, my love, to join with me, and let our union be perfected." 

“As you wish, my love.” And you dived in, eager to experience a future with him as your bodies became one. As your minds became one. Your love solidified in a moment, forever intertwined in a union that only they could truly understand. Their souls became one with their hearts beating in unison. And nothing would tear the bond they created. 

Vocabulary list: Marui (pods built in the giant mangrove-like trees alongside the shores and are protected from crashing waves by giant reef barriers), Tsahìk (head shaman, high priest, interpreter), Olo’eyktan (clan leader), Tsakarem (Tsahìk-in-traning), Toruk Makto (toruk rider), Kuru (neural queue)

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

#SavetheWinchesters pt.2

Summary - This is the long-time-coming sequel to my fic #SavetheWinchesters. After months of campaigning, they finally find out the network’s verdict.

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x reader

Masterlist | Part 1

A/N - We now all know the unfortunate fate that The Winchesters met with. So, thanks to a little reminder from @ozwriterchick (which was now ages ago…I’m so sorry this took so long!) of the original fic I wrote I’ve decided to finally follow it up. Sorry for the lengthy hiatus, life’s been hectic, plus I am working on something big that I’m hoping will be ready to share with you soon. Thank you for your patience and continued support, and welcome to anyone new! I love you all!!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You, Jensen and the rest of the cast of The Winchesters have been campaigning hard for weeks and now it’s finally time to find out the verdict. You have a video call scheduled with the executives later today. The anxiety for their decision and your husband’s reaction has had you tossing and turning all night. With the sun finally pouring through the windows you roll over and kiss his cheek as you wrap an arm over his chest and snuggle close. You feel him stir and wrap his arm around you as well. You hear a toilet flush down the hall, signaling that at least one of your kids is already awake. 

“That’s my sign to get up…” you sigh. 

“Or you could stay here a little longer. They won’t starve.”

“No, but I have to get them ready for school, otherwise they’ll be late because they’ll just watch TV or play with their toys instead of getting ready.”

“So responsible…”

“Someone has to keep this house running. You may pay the bills, but this place would be chaos without me.”

He leans over and kisses your lips softly, still half asleep. “And I hope you know how grateful I am for everything you do. There’s no way I could manage all this on my own, yet you make it seem so simple.”

“We do it together. Now come on, help me wrangle this lot and don’t forget you promised them you’d drive them to school. Plus, you’ve got that meeting later.”

You try to sit up but he wraps his arm tighter around you and holds you down to kiss you again. When he pulls away he asks, “About that…Will you do it with me? We are partners on this project after all.”

“Just on this project?” you tease playfully before pecking his lips. “Of course, I’ll do the meeting with you. We’re partners in every sense.” You peck his lips again and then get up. You throw on your robe, go downstairs to check on the kids and start getting them ready. You find them just as you expected, sitting in front of the TV watching the morning cartoons. “Alright, kiddos, who’s had breakfast?” As expected you don’t get a single response, they’re too engrossed in the Great Dane on the TV. You pour out a bowl of cereal for each of them and then let them eat in front of the TV. If nothing else, it provides a good distraction while you brush and style their hair neatly. 

Jensen finally comes downstairs, after showering and getting dressed for the day, and makes you both a coffee and toast while you make sandwiches and pack snacks for the kids’ lunches. You work together in perfect harmony. After years of not having him around often for these mundane mornings, you’re surprised at how well you fall into sync when he is. 

While he drives the kids to school you tidy up, get dressed, set a load of washing, and then set Jensen’s laptop on the kitchen counter for the meeting. Then, while you wait you scroll through your social media, checking on the status of the hashtag and retweeting some of your favourite posts despite knowing that the decision is already made, one way or the other. Still, you can hope. Also, it doesn’t hurt to boost the support for the show in case you have to start searching for a new home for it. 

You smile as you hear the alarm system beep off and on in time with the front door opening and closing. “How was traffic?” you call out as you listen to your husband’s footsteps getting closer.

“Busy…But I do enjoy that time with the kids. I missed it for so long” he says as he rattles the keys in the bowl.

“I know, but you’re home with us now. And even when you go again, we know you’ll always come back.”

Jensen sits on the couch beside you, wrapping one arm over your shoulders and kissing your temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He looks over at your phone. “I hope they say yes, today. I hope we convinced them…It’s such a good cast and crew and I have so many ideas.”

“I know. I hope so too…But even if they don’t, it was an amazing wild ride. They’ll all go far regardless. You know what the industry is like.”

“I know…Never get your hopes up. Everything is a blessing. Don’t put your fist through the drywall…blah blah blah…I just…”

You can feel him tensing up. You place a hand on his cheek softly, forcing him to look at you. You kiss his cheek, the tip of his nose and then his lips. You whisper against his lips, “I know. I love your passion and love for these people, but you need to calm down.” You feel him relax slightly as he kisses you back deeper.

“Thank you…”

When the alarm alerts you that it’s 10 minutes to your meeting with the network executives, you both get up and set yourselves up in front of the laptop. Your hand rests reassuringly on Jensen’s knee while his hand rests on yours. You wait in the video call lobby for them to join. Once they finally do, it’s a whirlwind; a rush of words that you can hardly process as you feel your husband tensing up and gripping your hand tightly to ground himself and likely stop his Dean from showing. Once you finally catch up, you try to save the meeting.

“Thank you for taking the time to consider us. We really appreciate this opportunity.”

Jensen gives them a polite nod before slamming the laptop shut and pacing around the kitchen. You give him a few minutes to walk off his frustration and calm down before you stand up and wrap your arms around him.

“I really thought we would’ve changed their mind. Did they not see? All the posts? All the support? How hard the actors worked?”

“I know…” You try to comfort him but he pulls away.

“I’m gonna go workout,” he says before storming down the hall towards your at-home gym. 

Your heartbreaks for him, you know how much he put into creating the story and world and how passionate he is about the up-and-coming actors. You text the main cast: Meg, Drake, Jojo and Nida to invite them to a video call in a couple of hours. You figure it’s best to give Jensen some time to work the frustration out of his system before talking to them. 

To keep yourself busy, you hang out the washing and start preparing dinner. When Jensen finally returns, he’s freshly showered and changed into a fresh outfit. He wraps his arms around you from behind and places his hands on yours to stop you from chopping the vegetables briefly. “I’m sorry…” He kisses the top of your head.

You turn around in his arms and wrap your arms around his neck, careful not to touch him with your dirty hands. “Did you apologise to the punching bag too?” you jest which causes a small smile to pull at the corner of his mouth. “It’s fine, Jens, really. I understand. I’m sorry about the show.”

“Me too. I guess I should call the others…let them know before they find out the hard way…”

“I’ve arranged a call in about…” You glance over at the clock. “Ten minutes now.”

He pulls you in for a soft kiss. “You’re so perfect.”

You do the call together, just like the disappointing one earlier, Jensen holds you tight for support. Once everyone comes online you and Jensen gently give them the bad news. You try to soften the blow by emphasising how well they did and that the cancellation is in no way their fault, but a disappointing result of budget cuts and the difficult times with the threats of industry strikes on the horizon. You both encourage them to keep auditioning and expanding their careers and skills. Then you finally finish by thanking them for their time and passion in helping bring your and Jensen’s vision to life and help with the campaign, even if it didn’t go the way you all hoped. 

After saying your goodbyes and shutting off the camera, Jensen kisses the top of your head and stands up. Then without a word, he slinks off down the hall. You shoot a sad smile at his back. Despite knowing the industry is rough, it’s been a long time since things haven’t gone his way. After 15 years of a guaranteed job and so much say in the character and direction, he’s not used to the pushback and being shut down. You know he’ll accept it and come back to his bubbly self in time, but it will take just that. So, in the meantime, you continue to do what you can; finish the laundry and dinner and pick up the kids from school to allow him some time alone to process everything.

When you get back home, the kids run outside to play. You cut up some fruits, put them on a plate with a few cookies and then wander out to the deck. You go to call the kids over to get some snacks but stop when you hear your husband’s soft voice and the perfect melody from his guitar. You smile and sit in the chair beside him enjoying the unexpected, accidental serenade. 

“She keeps on loving me

Loves me the way I am

She's not just along for the ride

She's my biggest fan

Lord, it's a little old piece of heaven

When we lay down at night

She keeps on loving me

And I keep on wondering why”

As he finishes the song he winks at you and you smile. “I stumbled on this song a while ago…it’s perfect for us…”

“Everything is gonna work out. It’ll be hard for a bit, sure. But there is an upside…” You look over at the kids playing on their swing set and then back at Jensen. “Until your next project, we can just enjoy a little time as a family without the looming thought of you having to leave for weeks or months at a time. I know they’ll be happy about that.”

“Yeah…That actually sounds really nice. Just us as a family, no looming deadlines or projects. We’ve never had that before.”

“New, unchartered territory. But I’m game if you are?”

He smiles at you and nods before calling out, “I’m gonna eat all these cookies!” He picks one up, opens his mouth wide and holds the cookie close to his lips teasingly. The kids sprint over and pout until he places it back on the plate. Once they sit down to eat, Jensen decides to share the news. “So, how would you guys feel about me being around a little more permanently for a while?”

[ugotnojamzzz]

Rulers of Ruin

Chapter 3

Alright so I’ve been toying with this mafia!au fic idea for a long while and I guess it’s time to give it a whirl. I already have about ten chapters written out (I’m expecting it to be at least 20 chapters), but I want to test out the waters first. I’ll start posting more if some of you are interested in knowing what the hell is going on.

Genre: Mafia!au , Slowburn, Angst, Hurt, eventual smut, TW (it is a mafia!AU, after all)

Pairing: Mafia!Jungkook x reader

Synopsis: um, tf is going on??? Stay tuned for more chapters to come.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language. Also, don’t come for me over the theme, people. It’s an Alternate Universe, which means the bangtan boys are essentially what I like to call meat puppets to serve the storyline. This is obviously not a projection of their actual real-life personas.

Wordcount: 2.6k

Masterlist

YN lay sprawled across the plush bed, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as she counted the tiles for the umpteenth time. For the past few hours, boredom had been her constant companion, proving far more excruciating than distress.

A soft ding interrupted her silent count—the distant sound of the elevator door sliding open. Her ears perked up, straining against the quiet that followed. The scrape of porcelain against silver floated through the air, and her heart quickened.

Someone was coming.

YN rolled off the bed, her movements swift and silent. She was on guard; every new sound or presence was a potential threat—or opportunity. Peeking through the slight gap in her bedroom door, her eyes narrowed on a figure maneuvering a trolley into the living area.

The visitor was a woman, short and stout, moving with an efficiency that belied her old age. She was quiet, her feet barely making a sound on the lush carpet as she pushed the laden trolley towards the table. The woman seemed unarmed and alone, an ID badge swinging gently at the side of her uniform.

There was something almost laughable about the situation. An old lady, really? YN thought wryly. You’d think Namjoon would at least have the decency to throw an actual challenge her way.

Still, here was an opportunity. The woman looked harmless, her back turned, fumbling slightly with something on the trolley. YN felt a pang of something akin to guilt—she didn’t particularly enjoy the thoughts crossing her mind, but survival in this world rarely came with the luxury of choice.

Meh, YN reasoned, she must’ve had a long-enough life, anyway.

Shaking off the hesitation with a cold snap of resolve, she slipped back towards her bed and grabbed a pillowcase. Simple, effective. It would have to do. Clutching it tightly, she stepped out of the bedroom, her presence as discreet as a shadow trailing across the moonlit floor, her movements honed by years of training to leave no trace.

The old woman’s back was still turned, her attention focused on arranging the items on her trolley with meticulous care.

Creeping closer, YN's hands tightened around the fabric, her every sense heightened. The soft rustling of the woman's uniform was like thunder in YN's hyperaware ears. Just a few more steps and she could reach out, seize control of the situation, and who knows, perhaps even secure her escape.

Just as she was about to make her move, a steady voice broke through the silence.

"Young lady,” the old woman spoke without turning around, “I would advise against whatever it is you’re planning on doing with that thing."

Stunned, YN halted in her tracks, her grip on the pillowcase loosening. "How d—"

“I’ve been weaving through the shadows of this house since before you drew your first breath, my dear,” the woman said, finally turning to face YN. Her eyes, a sharp contrast to her gentle demeanor, bore into YN’s. "And I have seen more than my share of young folks convinced they could outmaneuver their fate."

Once thing was clear: this was no ordinary maid.

“But you’re smarter than that, I’m sure.” The woman's eyes flickered to something behind YN. Following her line of sight, YN glanced at the security cameras mounted on the walls.

“You must be Mrs. Shin,” YN remarked with a resigned sigh.

“And you,” she replied, lifting the silver cloche to reveal a steaming plate of food, “must be famished”. YN's stomach betrayed her with a timely growl. She couldn't quite remember the last time she had eaten. Still, she remained rooted in place while the older woman arranged the tray meticulously on the table.

“It’s not poisoned,” Mrs. shin commented, catching YN’s hesitant glance, «if that’s what you’re wondering.”

YN maintained her silence, her eyes lingering on the food.

“In any case,” Mrs. Shin added, a twinkle of humor in her eyes, "I can assure you, wasting away from hunger is a far duller end. Still, the choice is yours."

Their eyes locked, a silent battle of wills. Finally, YN's resolve softened, her survival instincts kicking in. She seated herself slowly, her movements measured.

“Wise decision,” Mrs. Shin noted with a nod, her lips curling into a faint smile.

YN's eyes scrutinized the tray, noting the absence of any cutlery except for a single spoon. It seemed impractical, almost mocking in its simplicity. She met Mrs. Shin's gaze, an unspoken question hanging between them.

“Well, you couldn’t expect a knife and fork,” the woman said, her tone light but her eyes sharp. “And while we do usually allow chopsticks, Namjoon insisted on something less- pointy for now.”

“Usually?” YN echoed, her tone sharpening with curiosity, as she started digging into the food. “How often do the Kims bring outsiders into the family estate?”

Mrs. Shin looked back at her, amusement painting her features. "Who said anything about a family estate?" She sat down across from YN.

“It’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?” YN remarked, her mind flicking back to the meticulous arrangement of personal artifacts she had glimpsed in her brief walk through the house—distinctive heirlooms and portraits that seemed too imbued with sentimental value for a mere operational base.

“Still observant as ever, I see,” Mrs. Shin commented.

YN’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Still?” she asked.

“Ah,” Mrs. Shin paused, a knowing smile creeping across her face. "The eye of the raven with the memory of the goldfish—quite the combo you’ve been given."

YN’s response was an irritated scoff. She wasn’t accustomed to being on the less informed end of conversations, and Mrs. Shin’s insinuation chafed at her pride.

"I don’t blame you, really" Mrs. Shin continued gently, a thoughtful pause punctuating her words. "You must’ve been… 9 or 10, that day, always hiding behind your older brother," she added, her tone softening. A flicker of irritation crossed her features as she recalled, "That rascal," she muttered under her breath, "kept scraping his teeth on the silverware like a wild thing."

As YN processed her words, she absently glanced at the silver spoon in her hand, its tiger motif strikingly familiar. Mrs. Shin watched with a knowing expression as YN carefully traced the spoon's design with her thumb.

"I believe it was black sesame pudding," The old woman said nonchalantly.

Her words seemed to trigger a cascade of half-buried memories, recognition slowly dawning on YN’s features.

She finally spoke. "It was here," her voice barely more than a whisper. "wasn’t it?" she paused, looking up to meet the old woman’s gaze, “The Summit.”

Mrs. Shin didn't reply directly, but her lips curled into a slight smile as she rose from her seat and walked to the tea set. Her wrinkled hands gently lifted the delicate porcelain teapot, steam swirling up as she poured the fragrant brew into two matching cups.

Yes.

The Summit.

Once every decade since the Mutual Prosperity Charter had been signed, the five original clans—each a pillar of clandestine influence—would congregate to reaffirm their tenuous truce with an event known as the Unity Summit.

 It was nothing short of a grand ballet of diplomacy, a way to remind everyone of the precarious balance of power that held their world together. And, while the gatherings were designed to celebrate peace, they were also used as an opportunity for each clan to showcase its strength and splendor.

YN had been to just one such event in her youth, hosted by the Tigers—the Kim clan. Only now did she realize these were the same walls that had encircled it. She was astonished she hadn't realized sooner. Her recollections of that day were still crystal clear.

After all, it was the first and only time she’d met Namjoon before.

***

The grand hall itself was a testament to the event's significance, draped in rich banners and ancestral crests. Conversations dwindled into silence as YN, squeezed between the towering figures of her brother and father had walked in, their footsteps echoing through the vast space.

The crowd of dignitaries and delegates parted to make way, acknowledging the family's authority with nods and murmurs. Eyes filled with respect and a hint of fear turned in their direction as they strode towards their host.

Once they reached Kim Eungsoo and his wife, YN felt her father's grip tighten on her shoulder—a silent command for unwavering propriety. She straightened her back, drew in a breath, and lowered herself into a deep bow before the imposing figure of the Kim patriarch. Her eyes briefly met his, lingering on the nasty scar that ran across his stern face. A chill brushed her spine, and she quickly shifted her gaze down in respect.

Drawing herself up, YN’s eyes shifted to the boy who stood confidently besides the leader.

Only 12 at the time, Namjoon already carried the air of someone burdened with expectations, a seriousness far beyond his years coloring his features. Awkwardly caught between boyhood and the precipice of command, he was unusually tall for his age. His face was conspicuously smooth, freshly shaved, though there was no stubble to speak of, and his suit a miniature mirror of his father's. He was quiet. Focused. YN remembered seeing his eyes darting towards his father throughout the day, his young mind already threading through the maze of clan politics, yearning for a seat among the decision-makers.

YN had been similarly ensnared in the silent dance of expectations. Her hair was woven into a braid so tight it seemed designed to squeeze any hint of rebellion from her skull. The stern eyes of her governess loomed at the periphery of her vision, a silent sentinel ensuring her posture remained as straight as her lineage.

They both spent that banquet afternoon ensconced in the polite but distant company of the other clan leaders' children.

The Kang quadruplet daughters, with their sharp whispers and mean-spirited giggles, huddled together like a litter of scheming mice.

The Choi brothers were in their own world, it seemed, their boisterous energy manifesting in endless arm-wrestling matches, while their infant sister slumbered undisturbed, a serene island in a sea of chaos.

The Lee siblings stood apart, a trio of statuesque figures, their expressions unreadable and their poise as perfect as porcelain figures on a mantelpiece. They carried themselves with the regal aloofness of royalty mingling with commoners, watching the festivities with an air of superiority and detached amusement.

Amidst it all, the Park heir, YN's older brother, moved with newfound importance. At only 17 years of age, he had freshly been inducted into their clan's inner circles, earning him a coveted spot at the adults' table alongside the eldest Lee son. He wore his responsibility like a mantle, his young features set in determined imitation of their father’s grave expressions.

YN, from her distant vantage point, watched them with a detached curiosity, wondering about the weight of the conversations that included him and excluded her.

Overall, that day had been an absolute bore.

The one highlight of the day came when dessert was finally served, gleaming invitingly in delicate bowls accompanied by shiny silver spoons.

 Black sesame pudding.

She indulged with the enthusiasm only a child could muster, her lips and tongue turning a dark grey color. Her governess, less amused, delivered a swift reprimand—a slap that stung far more than the fleeting embarrassment of being scolded. Tears welled up, not enough to draw attention, but sufficient to send her seeking solitude.

Hidden away in a secluded corner, nursing her bruised pride more than her reddened cheek, YN was startled by a presence next to her. A lady had knelt beside her, eyes soft with concern. “Everything alright, little bird?”

***

YN glanced up at Mrs. Shin, who returned to the table, setting the teacups down with practiced ease.

“You gave me a sweet that day,” YN recalled, her tone casual yet pointed, as if to underscore the precision of her memory, “the chewy, ginger kind.”

“Never seen a teary eye that couldn’t be fixed by Jocheong taffy,” she replied warmly, pushing a cup gently towards YN. "Go on, now, drink up."

YN obeyed, the warm liquid sliding down her throat soothingly. She set the cup down with a deliberate clink, “So,” she broke the silence, her eyes hardening, “this is all Namjoon could muster?” she asked, her voice dripping with skepticism. “Send the meek, old lady to tame me?”

“I may be old,” Mrs. Shin retorted, her voice steady and her back straight, “but I am certainly not meek.” Her eyes flickered briefly to the faded clan tattoo peeking out from under her uniform—a relic from a past that whispered of untold stories and battles fought. Clearly, the old woman had earned her stripes one way or another.

“And Namjoon didn’t send me,” Mrs. Shin continued, her tone turning wry. “I changed that boy’s diapers. He knows better than to give me orders.”

“So, you volunteered?” YN’s eyebrows rose slightly, intrigued. “How sweet.”

“I must have a soft spot for outcasts," Mrs. Shin admitted, her gaze softening just a touch as she considered YN, seeing perhaps a reflection of someone else. “But truth is I’ve simply always taken care of the attic,” she added.

« Not exactly much to take care of, up there," YN sent her a confused look, “It’s an unoccupied suite.”

"Appearances can be deceiving," Mrs. Shin replied, her eyes twinkling, “you ought to remember that.”

"Oooooh,” YN mocked, a light laugh escaping her despite the slight heaviness beginning to cloud her mind. “Are there ghosts roaming around I should look out for?"

“I guess you could say that," Mrs. Shin said with a cryptic smile. “Of course, ghosts aren’t the only lost souls lingering up there.”

YN took another sip from her cup and tried to focus on Mrs. Shin’s face. The edges of her vision blurred slightly, and she felt a growing fog settling in her mind. "So… what-» Her words felt thick, her tongue growing sluggish.

YN's head began to feel heavy, her thoughts muddled as if fog was rolling through her mind.

Mrs. Shin tilted her head ever so slightly. "You’re looking a little pale, dear," Mrs. Shin remarked in a gentle tone that carried a steely undertone.

YN tried to focus, but the woman’s face seemed to blur and swim out of focus. She felt a strange heat rising through her chest and head and opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come out right. Her hands felt strangely detached from her body, her fingers tingling as she gripped the edge of the table. "W-what the fu-"

"I said we wouldn’t poison you," Mrs. Shin interrupted calmly, her words echoing through YN’s brain like a distant lullaby. "Not that we wouldn't- temper your spirit."

YN glanced down to the bottom of her teacup, her hand trembling. It was then she noticed a faint residue, something she hadn't seen when she first started sipping.

"Son of a bitch," YN muttered, her voice fading as darkness crept in at the edges of her vision.

Mrs. Shin’s tender voice echoed through her mind just as everything went black.

"Sleep tight, little dove."

--

Hope you liked it. If some of you are intrigued or interested in finding out more, don't hesitate to interact and I'll start posting some more chapters!

Next Chapter (coming soon..)

Masterlist

Taglist

@princess-sunshyn

[purereflectionsworld]

Here’s a snippet from an Aleida fic I’m working on, which I hope to post on AO3 once I’ve completed a few chapters. The goal is to fill in the gaps in her relationship with Margo, and Margo’s importance to her family, in that space between Seasons 2 to 3. This excerpt’s likely to be in Chapter 3, and is set in 1984. In which Aleida finds herself on a special first date, reminisces about Apollo-Soyuz, and realizes that Margo and Sergei’s relationship *might* not be as strictly professional as she’s assumed.

___

“So you’re one of the good Mexicans,” she says after he tells her about moving to Texas with his parents and brother when he was five - a perfectly uneventful journey in broad daylight - and her words come out about five shades more sarcastic than she’d intended.

He doesn’t smile. In fact, he’s looking at her very seriously. “The only bad Mexicans in my book are the ones who celebrate Cinco de Mayo, unless they’re actually from Puebla.”

She raises her eyebrows at him. She knows what a lot of the white collar Mexicans in Texas think of her kind. There’s a reason she’s never dated one of them before.

He sighs. “I will acknowledge that I’ve met a lot of Mexicans in my family’s circle here who don’t think like I do. Lot of them speak progressively, then treat my undocumented friends like shit. I’ve had to cut those people out of my life.” He meets her gaze, and her stomach flips over a little bit. “My ex-girlfriend, for one.” 

She doesn’t say anything for a little while. Then, quietly, she tells him about Mama’s grave in Parras de la Fuente, and the night that Americans landed on the moon. About Papa, and homework sessions in the viewing gallery, and tutoring sessions with the first woman in Mission Control, and the worst phone call of her life.

She doesn’t tell him that she used to be homeless, and was once shot at, and struggled to hold down a job, and dumped her ex unceremoniously the day he helped her get this one. That she’s still living in a trailer park and likely won’t be able to move out until she gets the double promotion Margo has been heavily hinting at. But as he reaches across the table to squeeze her hand, briefly, before clearing his throat awkwardly and turning his attention back to opening his beer, she thinks that maybe she could tell him, someday. 

He opens the bottle, takes a swig, and looks back at her. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” she says, giving him a little smile, so he knows it’s okay for him to talk again.

“So did you make it to the Kennedy School?”

“Yes, I did both tracks.”

“You know,” he says, smiling back at her, “I was waitlisted for one of the math tracks myself. Must have been ten years ago, too. If I’d spent a little more time studying, and a little less time DJing in my parents’ basement, we might have met. Which one did you do?”

It turns out that he currently teaches a lot of the advanced math she learned at the Kennedy School, so the conversation flows effortlessly back and forth between them for several minutes. He’s genuinely fascinated by all the ways she applies the concepts to design space shuttles, and satisfyingly incredulous that she works with idiots 10 years her senior who can’t keep up with her work.

“And your father?” he finally asks, gently, after the math banter reaches a comfortable lull. 

“Still in Parras. I’m working on it,” she adds defiantly, because his gaze is shifting to something like tenderness, and she doesn’t want his sympathy. “Now that I’m a U.S. citizen, I’m hoping to sponsor him officially. My boss is trying to help, and she’s well-connected, so we’ll see.”

“You’re a citizen already?” he says, eyes widening. “Aleida, that’s amazing! I’ve heard it’s an uphill climb out of the amnesty program. Sounds like you’re working on some high profile stuff so I figured you might be an LPR by now, but…”

“I got fast tracked as a one-off,” she says, and suddenly as she looks back at him and sees the spark of wonder in his eyes, she feels a twinge of happiness about it that she didn’t feel in Margo’s office when Ellen broke the news, or even on the phone with Papa afterward. “The NASA administrator’s in Reagan’s cabinet, and she got him to approve it personally. For ‘important contributions to national security.’”

“What mission?” he says almost in a whisper, enthralled. “You able to tell me?”

She smiles, takes a breath. It’s not a secret, but somehow she’s never talked about it outside of NASA and her calls to Papa. “Apollo-Soyuz.”

“Holy shit,” he breathes, and she feels a warm rush at his recognition. She’s sure he remembers exactly where he was when the sirens went off. “What did you do?”

“I came up with an important part of the docking mechanism. Stayed on the Mission Control floor with the team when most of the country went to the bomb shelters. And -“ She closes her eyes involuntarily, recalls that soaring feeling. “They let me give the order to the astronauts on the CAPCOM. I’ll never forget it. Apollo, Houston. You are go for docking.”

She opens her eyes, and swallows hard, because he’s exhaling, sitting all the way back in his chair, just staring at her with an intense mix of shock and admiration and pride. Pride that she realizes she only ever hears these days in Papa’s voice on the staticky phone line, and sees in Margo’s eyes, sometimes, framed by dark red strands of hair, in that brief flash after Aleida solves a particularly complex problem. 

*

“Okay,” he says twenty minutes later, taking another swig of beer, “so what I’m hearing is, you crashed your boss’ date with her Soviet counterpart the day you came up with the docking mechanism fix.”

“What? No, it wasn’t a date,” she laughs. “No way. You haven’t met Margo. If you had, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

“You said they were both dressed up kind of fancy, and that he was drunk when he complimented your work ethic. Oh, and that your friend Bill said the first Apollo-Soyuz meeting went so badly that your boss made an awkward sex joke by mistake and that the Soviet guy responded with a purposeful one. Did I hear all that right?”

She pauses, cocks her head. “Okay, I can see how you got that impression.”

“I rest my case,” Victor says, setting his empty bottle down with a grin.

[drugsforaddicts]

💚🍦💛

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Screaming from the crypt (or how the past haunts the present on Midnights)

I know it's been discussed so much since Midnights came out but just.

I love how there is such a clear narrative throughout the album (and perhaps especially on the 3am/Vault tracks). About questioning and regret and choices and coming to terms with all of it. It is one long story about how we're all a mosaic of the choices we make, each one taking something from us and leaving something else in its place.

(And now a disclaimer: I'm looking at this mostly through a narrator/subject lens, and trying not to dive too deeply into real-life events or speculation except for in a general sense. For this purpose I like to look at the body of work as art, like literature, because I find it makes it easier to see the common threads in the different songs and cohesion in the narrative.)

In looking at the 3am+ tracks in particular, it's fascinating how some turns of phrases or themes repeat themselves in different songs, in different contexts. (I'm only focusing on the non-standard tracks because there are too many songs and I'd be here all day but I bet I could do a part two lol.) I know many people have pointed out the parallels throughout her discography already and I’m not saying anything groundbreaking by writing this, but I love how these parallels run through in the same album, because it makes it seem like it's one long story, or at least, one long rumination on many different stories that are coalescing into a single narrative.

Battle (let’s go)

For instance, the one that jumped out at me when I started writing this post the other week was, "Tore your banners down, took the battle underground," in The Great War and "If clarity's in death, then why won't this die? Years of tearing down our banners, you and I," in Would've, Could've Should've. It's a story about staying stuck in the same cycle of reliving trauma and coping mechanisms and bad habits over and over again and fantasizing about how taking the “antagonist” out and gaining the upper hand for good would bring closure (WCS), but the truth is that nothing ever will. All that cycle does, though, is repeat itself in other situations, and in this case pushes someone away the narrator cares for (TGW). The difference is that the imagined battle in WCS is a two-way street in her mind (that is ultimately unwinnable because it was never a fair fight), but in TGW it's one-sided -- she's the one fighting dirty, taking shots, the way she'd been doing in her imagination (or nightmares) all these years. But the person in front of her isn't fighting back the way the person in her mind in WCS would, because their intentions are honourable instead of exploitative.

And that's paralleled in another pair of lyrics from the two songs, "And maybe it's the past talking, screaming from the crypt, telling me to punish you for things you never did," (in TGW) and "The tomb won't close, I fight with you in my sleep," (in WCS). In both cases, the funeral imagery makes it seem like this past event should be dead and buried in WCS, but it keeps rising from the dead, haunting her no matter what she does and in TGW, another (or perhaps the same?) tomb that won't close keeps unleashing new ways to hurt her and in turn the new person in her life. In other words, the trauma from the past continues to bleed into the present.

(Again from a literary point of view, I'm not saying the events of the two songs are linked IRL, but they're fascinating textual parallels on the album as a string of chapters, which is why Dear Reader is so compelling, but that's a whole other essay.)

To keep the battle motif going, there’s yet another parallel, this time between TGW’s "[You were a] soldier down on that icy ground, looked up at me with honor and truth," and You’re Losing Me’s "All I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier, fighting in only your army.” In the former, the subject is laying down his armour in the war she’s projecting onto him, waving the white flag, and she realizes that she’s about to destroy something if she doesn’t put her sword down too. By the time we get to YLM, the roles are almost reversed; at the very least they’re supposed to be on the same team, but in this case she’s doing all the heavy lifting, fighting for their relationship in contrast to his apathy killing it. It’s also pretty interesting (if not outright intentional) that one of the 3am+ editions of the albums starts with The Great War, where they find themselves in conflict (even if it’s in her head) that ends in a truce, and ends with You’re Losing Me signalling the end of the relationship, evidence that the resolution in the first song wasn’t an ending but merely a ceasefire before the last battle.

Putting the rest under a cut because this is waaaaay too long now ⤵️

(There’s also another metaphor there in The Great War with its battle imagery: World War I, aka The Great War, was supposed to be the war to end all wars, because loss on its scale was never seen before and when it ended, most thought never again would the world embroil itself in such battle, the horrors and implications were so devastating. Two decades later, the world found itself in WWII, with an even larger scope and more horrific consequences, the intervening time between the two a period of festering conflicts and resentment leading to some of the worst acts the world would see. Bringing real life into it for a second, there’s something a little poetic, though sad, about The Great War the song being about a fight that could have ended the relationship that they ultimately resolved and was meant to be evidence of the strength of their love, but so too did it end up being a period of détente, the greater battle coming for them years later. But that is not the point of this post.)

If one thing had been different

Another major theme in these editions is pondering the "what ifs?" of life, but I think it takes on even more significance in the broader context of the album in the lyrics of "I'm never gonna meet what could've been, would've been, should've been you," in Bigger than the Whole Sky and the repetition of would've/could've in Would've, Could've, Should've (I would've looked away at the first glance, I would've stayed on my knees, I would've gone along with the righteous, I could've gone on as I was, would've could've should've if I'd only played it safe, etc.) In both songs, the narrator is mourning an alternate course their life could have taken* and questioning what they could have done differently, in the aftermath of trauma and loss, and the regret that comes with that loss, and with the loss of agency in the situation because ultimately it was never in their hands. In an album full of questions, wondering about the path not taken, or the forks in the road that have led to a different version of your life, it's digging deeper into the contrast of choice vs. fate, action vs. reaction, dwelling on the past vs. moving on. When you're supposed to let go of the past, what do you do when it is holding your future hostage?

(*I know there are different interpretations/speculation about BTTWS which I am not getting into on main. I'm just saying that whatever the song is about, it's grieving something that never came to be. The literal origin of the song is less important to the album than the sense of loss it portrays. Whatever the inspiration is, it's crafted to tell part of the story of Midnights of ruminating over how, to borrow from her previous work, if one thing had been different, would everything be different?)

(Also I was today years old when I realized that the words are inverted in the two songs. Apparently I've been hearing BTTWS wrong this whole time.)

There's also an interesting tangent in the role of faith in both songs: in WCS, the events of the story cause her to lose her faith (e.g. "All I used to do was pray," "you're a crisis of my faith,") and question all the things she felt had been unquestionable until that point in her life (e.g. "I could have gone along with the righteous"), whereas in BTTWS, she questions whether that very lack of faith is to blame for the loss in that song ("did some force take you because I didn't pray? [...] It's not meant to be, so I'll say words I don't believe"). It's like pinpointing the moment her life changed and upended her beliefs (WCS), but as a result then leaving her unmoored in times of crisis because ultimately there's no explanation or comfort to be taken from what she used to hold true before that (BTTWS). The words she once relied upon to guide her have long since lost their meaning, but in times of trouble it leaves her wondering if that faith she once held then lost could have prevented this pain.

(Shoutout to WCS for being Catholic guilt personified lol.)

To keep on with the vaguely faith-y notions, an obvious parallel is the line in Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve about, “I damn sure never would've danced with the devil at nineteen,” and, "When you aim at the devil, make sure you don't miss," in Dear Reader. All of WCS is about her fighting with an antagonist who haunts her, with whom she wholly regrets ever becoming involved. DR could be seen as a reflection on that fall from grace, warning the audience that if you choose to go after the person (or thing) haunting you, make sure you do so clearheaded enough to be decisive. Again, these “devils” may not be related in real life: the IRL devil in DR could be speaking about her naysayers, or Kim*ye, or Scott & Scooter B, etc., meaning not to cross your enemies until you know you can win. But taking real life out of it and looking at it textually, I am intrigued by the link between WCS and DR, so that’s what I’m going with here. And perhaps that’s even the point in a wider sense; there will be multiple “devils” in your life, or threats to your well-being. If you’re going to commit to taking them down — whether it’s an actual person, or the demons inside you that refuse to let you go — make sure you have the right ammo so that they can no longer hurt you. (Of course, one lesson from these experiences is that sometimes you can’t win, and you have to live with the fallout.)

(Sidebar: I know that “dancing with the devil” is a turn of phrase that means being led into temptation and engaging in risky behaviour, as opposed to describing the actual person. Given the religious metaphors in the song, that could very well be/is the intention, particularly when it’s preceded by, “I would have stayed on my knees” as in she would have continued to follow her faith — in whatever sense that means — had she never met this person, which could also be a more eloquent way of saying she would have continued to be live her life in a way that was righteous (even naive) and seen the world in black and white. Either way, it’s a force she wholly rejects. Like I said, multiple devils, same fight.)

Regret comes up too: in WCS, she says, "I regret you all the time," obviously directed at the person who manipulated her and led to her perceived downfall, citing him as the one impulse she wished she'd never followed, because it won't leave her no matter how hard she’s tried. In High Infidelity, she tells the person to, "put on your records and regret me," and on the surface, it’s like she’s turning the tables, painting herself as the one now causing the regret in someone else, the one inflicting the pain this time. Yet the verse preceding it and the lines following it in the chorus depict a partner who is also emotionally manipulative and vindictive like in WCS (“you said I was freeloading, I didn’t know you were keeping count,” “put on your headphones and burn my city,”). It’s not so much that she’s intentionally harming the person (the way the person in WCS does to her), but rather that the venom in the subject’s feelings towards her seeps through; she’s imagining the way he’s going to feel about her when she leaves, hating her just for by being who she is. (There could be another tangent about how in both songs she’s there to be a “token” in a game for both of the men, who play her for their own purposes.) The regret is dripping with disdain. It’s as though she’s picturing how the person is going to hate her for doing what she’s thinking of doing the way she hates the person who first hurt her.

Sadness, unsurprisingly, shows up in a few lyrics. In BTTWS, “Everything I touch becomes sick with sadness,” sets the scene of a person so overcome with grief that it permeates everything around them; they cannot see their way out of it and feel like the fog will never lift. In Hits Different, it’s, “My sadness is contagious,” the result of a breakup where the person’s grief again touches everything and everyone around them, pushing them further in their despair and loneliness. The reason behind the grief in either case may vary, but regardless of the source, the feeling is overpowering and isolating. They may be different chapters in the story, but the devastation is hauntingly familiar. (As is a recurring theme in Midnights as a whole: there are situations and feelings that present themselves at different points in her journey and colour in the lines in different ways along the road. Like revisiting an old vice and realizing the hit isn’t quite the same as it was in the past.)

Death by a thousand cuts

She also writes about wounds on this album, which isn't surprising I suppose given that the whole conceit is that these are things that have kept her up at night over the years. WCS is perhaps the driving narrative on this never ending hurt when she sings, “The wound won't close, I keep on waiting for a sign, I regret you all the time,” suggesting that no matter what she does, the pain of this experience has permeated everything she’s done afterwards. (Not unlike the overwhelming grief in BTTWS, for instance.) Elsewhere, in High Infidelity she sings, "Lock broken, slur spoken, wound open, game token," and in Hits Different, "Make it make some sense why the wound is still bleeding.” Again I'm not suggesting they're about the same events; the line in HI is about a situation where a partner crosses a boundary, hits below the belt, picks at an insecurity (or creates a new one) and treats the relationship like it's transactional, opening the floodgates in turn. In HD, the wound seems to be more self-inflicted, where she's pushed the person away. (Over a situation real or imagined she feels she needs distance from.) But again, something has picked at her like a raw nerve, and just like in the past, she's hurting, even in a different time and place and person. Almost like the wounds of the past break open over and over again to create new scars. If one were to extrapolate further, it wouldn’t be the biggest leap to wonder if the wound open in WCS, then torn apart in HI makes the one in HD hurt even more.

(I once wrote a post about how I think as time goes on, WCS is going to turn into one of those songs that will be found to drive so much of her work, because it’s just… kind of the unsaid thesis statement of so much of her songwriting.)

Another repeated theme is that of the empty home and loneliness. In High Infidelity, she sings, "At the house lonely, good money I'd pay if you just know me, seemed like the right thing at the time," painting a picture of someone who may have everything they'd want to the outside world, but in reality feels metaphorically trapped in their home (or at least alone amidst abundance), a symbol of a relationship gone sour and a failure to build connection. She just wants someone to understand her, want her for her, but as she's written earlier in the song, she's just a pawn in the game, a trophy from the hunt. Home, in this case, is lonely, isolated, an emblem of her fears. In Dear Reader, she continues this thread, then singing, "You wouldn't take my word for it if you knew who was talking, if you knew where I was walking, to a house not a home, all alone 'cause nobody's there, where I pace in my pen and my friends found friends who care, no one sees you lose when you're playing solitaire." It's the same idea, admitting to listeners that the gilded cage she lived in kept her distanced from her loved ones and real connection, keeping her struggles close to the vest but feeling desperately lonely amidst her crowning success. She's pushed people away and it may have felt like the right thing at the time, but in the end maybe felt like she was trapped. And when you push people away, eventually they take you at your word and stop pushing back; you’re a victim of your own success at isolating yourself. What starts out of self-preservation then further perpetuates the underlying problems.

(There's another interesting link about "home" also feeling unsafe with HI's "Your picket fence is sharp as knives," which further leads into the theme of marriage/domesticity feeling dangerous, which is a whole other thing I won't get into here because it's another discussion and may derail this already gargantuan word salad.)

In a slightly similar vein, we have the metaphor of bad weather for a rocky road or unstable relationship, in High Infidelity again with, "Storm coming, good husband, bad omen, dragged my feet right down the aisle" and You’re Losing Me’s "every morning I glared at you with storms in my eyes.” They aren’t speaking of the same situation or even same kind of breakdown, but it is pretty interesting how the idea of clouds/storms/floods/etc. play such a role in Taylor’s music to signal depression, apprehension, fear, uncertainty, etc. In HI, I think the “storm” coming is the looming threat of commitment to a partner who makes the narrator uneasy (if not fearful). In this case, the idea of making a life with this person is not one that incites joy or comfort, but instead makes the narrator feel that dark times are ahead if she continues down this path. Perhaps in some way, the “storms” in YLM have made good on the threat in HI in a different way; it’s a different home, a different relationship, but the clouds have settled in regardless, and some of her fears have come to fruition in ways she did not expect. The person she once trusted no longer sees her or her struggles (or worse, doesn’t care), and the resentment and pain build with each passing day.

Coming back to heartbreak, one of the obvious "full circle" moments is the beginning of a relationship in Paris, where she says that, "I'm so in love that I might stop breathing," clearly enthralled in a new love that allows her to shut the world out and grow in private, capturing the all-encompassing nature of the relationship. This infatuation has consumed her in the most wonderful way (in contrast to the sorrow of some of the previous songs), and it feels like a life-altering (or even life-sustaining?) force that is so strong she may forget what it’s like to breathe. (Metaphorically speaking, of course.) By the end of the album, though, in You're Losing Me, that heart-stopping love has become a threat: "my heart won't start anymore for you." In the former, her racing heart is full of excitement, but by the latter, her heart has given out completely under the weight of the pain she bears. (YLM is full of death/illness imagery which I already wrote about awhile ago so I won't hear, but needless to say that song deserves its own essay for so many reasons.) She's gone from the unbridled joy of the beginnings of a relationship to the unrelenting sorrow of its end, two sides of the same coin.

Love as death appears elsewhere in the music too, for instance, in High Infidelity’s, “You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love, the slowest way is never loving them enough" and You’re Losing Me’s “How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dying? […] My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick.” Though not completely analogous situations, they both tell the tale of one partner’s apathy (or at least denial) destroying the other. In the former, the partner’s actions (or inaction) are more insidious, if not sinister; in the latter, the lack of momentum (or admission of a problem) is passive. In both cases, the end result is the narrator’s demise; it’s a drawn out affair that chips away at her morale and her health and her sense of self. (Breaking my own rule about bringing in alleged actual events into the discussion, but the idea that the relationship in High Infidelity, which was obviously fraught with unease and even fear, ended in a similarly excruciatingly slow and hurtful death by a thousand cuts as the relationship in You’re Losing Me almost did at that time must have been so painful. It almost feels like YLM is wondering why what used to be a source of light in her life was mirroring a situation that caused her such pain in the past.)

From the same little breaks in your soul

I said early on that part of what is so compelling about Midnights is that it feels like an album about ruminating — on choices, on events, on people — and the two final “bonus” tracks of the album depict that as well. In Hits Different, she sings that, “they say if it’s right, you know,” an ode to the confusion of a breakup and struggling with the aftermath of calling it quits. It’s a line that has always intrigued me, because the typical use of the phrase is in the sense of, “you’ll know when you meet the one,” but here it seems to have a double meaning, a reassurance perhaps from the friends (who later on tell her that "love is a lie") that she’ll know if she’s made the right decision in calling it off, but could also be her wondering if the relationship is right, she’ll know, and want to reconcile. In the final bonus track, You’re Losing Me, she sings, “now I just sit in the dark and wonder if it’s time,” this time leaving no doubt about the dilemma she faces, though it’s no less fraught. She’s wondering, perhaps for the last time, if now is finally the moment to end the relationship for good. They say that if it’s right she’ll know, and now she’s wondering if that feeling inside her (that once told her her partner was the one, which is why it hit differently), is telling her that it’s time to go for good. Wait Alexa play “It’s Time To Go.” These are not only the things that keep her up at night, but the things that play over in her mind like a film reel in her waking hours.

Midnights as a whole is a deeply personal album, as is most of Taylor's work, but the 3am+ edition tracks seem to dig even deeper to a lot of the issues raised on the standard album. Almost like the standard tracks are the things she wonders about on sleepless nights, but the bonus tracks are the things that haunt her in the aftermath. The regret, anger, sadness, grief, relief, even joy— they’re the price she pays for the memories she keeps reliving. Midnights might be the most cohesive narrative of all her albums, and really does feel like we’re watching someone work through her journal over time, stopping short of outright naming those giant fears and intrusive thoughts (except for when she does) but making them plain as day when you connect the songs together, and perhaps never more clearly than in the expanded album. It’s incredible how the songs stand on their own to relay a specific moment in time, but that they are also self-referential to each other (whether thematically or overtly) to weave a larger web over the entire work. We’re so lucky as fans to have these stories and to keep peeling back these layers as time passes. (And my literature-analysis-loving ass loves her even more for it.)

This is obviously by no means an exhaustive list, and I know there are more parallels and probably even stronger links (particularly when you add the standard version into the mix), but these were the ones that particularly struck me and I’m just glad I’ve had a chance to sit with this and think it through. ❤️

[needylittlegirl]

theres a 99% chance we’re gonna move so i have to start packing little things now cause it makes the transition easier but i hate it i dont want to

[sydchan]

My bitch ass like a year ago: “I don’t know how people can make ship/character playlists that are like, 7+ hours long. Surely one can’t find that many songs that fit something.”

Me now that the Billdip playlist is over 5 hours long: “Aight, I take it back and I get it now. Combo of brainrot and cumulative effect. One really can find that many songs that fit when one listens to enough songs.”

[marinkin]

please look at my assignment from my after effects class i worked so hard on it

its kinetic typography to a jack stauber song so enjoy o7