#also it has no fucking place in human art contests

[zapsoda]

i dont think the issue with ai art is that it simply exists, or that its made by scrambling preexisting works of art, the issue is that it does so without 99% of the artists' consent or even crediting them. its the equivalent of making a collage

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2024: #36

36. FINLAND Windows95Man - "No Rules!" 19th place

Decade ranking: 143/153 [Above Nadir, below Let3]

Okay so, I promised in Saturday's post that I would try to be positive, but I may already have to rescind on that promise lol. (the "lol" is for punctuation because I definitely did not laugh.) "No rules!" stinks and has very few redeeming qualities. 🙂 Natalia was right, she WAS robbed by a Nudist Demon!

For real, does anyone over the age of twenty-five enjoy this dumpster fire? If so, fukk meee. LOVE YOURSELVES.

As I noted in my UMK review back in Feb:

I have difficulty buying into this hyperactive ball of bad taste. “Fuck The System” always feels like the go-to message of individuals that fail to fit into social structures that aren’t fully of their own shaping. For an entry that’s all “live as you like, there’s no rules!” in its messaging, these two look like they conform to just about every styling and behavioural rule associated with Zoomer culture: A total disregard for general aesthetics over a dumbed-down drone of a beat because everything is ironic and nothing is to be taken seriously.  It is a depressing take on life. Yeah sure, a bit of camp levity is welcome in this loathesome world, but any happy song that weaponizes irony like this one trends towards encouraging irresponsibility, cynicism and nihilism. Some things DO matter in life, you know? You need to afford your bills and groceries, charge your social batteries, cultivate your friendships, or else you’ll wind up living alone in a van, down by the river. But if the latter life appeals to you, then this is the entry for you, I guess. For me though; this contest is already has one Joost Klein. Let’s not add a second one from Finland.

Funny how I nailed that even before knowing the full extent of it. I ofc vastly underestimated how bad the live would be, and as soon as I'd seen it my scepsis immediately supernova'd into intense HATRED. If ONLY "Paskana" hadn't been weak as piss. Yes, the cringe in "No Rules!" is deliberate, obviously, I have a sense of humour. Having a sense of humour is why I hate it? How much "deliberated cringe" can one tolerate before concluding "nope, this is r o t t e n." Does it start with

THE BAD GUNTER IMPRESSION?

or

THE DONALD DUCKING?

or

CALLING HIMSELF" A QUEEN"?

or

screaming "SEE ME SLAYYYY" :proceeds to not slay: ?

It definitely ends in whatever this shot is supposed to be.

Humour is subjective sure enough, and Windowsninetycringeman's jokes fall flatter than a pancake á moi. Why is everything denim? Why is this THIRTY-NINE YEAR OLD MAN still engaging in toilet humour and internet speak? Grow the f up? The art lies in the execution and Finland showed neither. I do NOT like Europapa much, but having Finland and not Netherlands in the final vibes wrong on so many levels. Europapa at least had a clear plan and delivered its nonsense in contained, piecemeal doses? It was COMPETENT in what it attempted to be (A Televote Winner), not a lazy amalgation of simple-minded drunk jokes strung together over a Planet of The Bass megamix as some sort of a Hail Mary. Joost and Teemu represent the Expectations/Reality divide of Zoomer Nonsense and it was darksided that only the latter got to compete for points. But on top of that, Teemu was generally just full of shit? Hooray, an Old Millennial engaging in Zoomer Cringe who lets an actual zoomer do all the vocal heavy lifting, without giving him a single featuring credit. Yay! It's a painfully accurate depiction of what being a zoomer is like, but not an intentional one.

Also remember when Teemu said he would "try to discreetly approach the other contestants to find ways to show support for Palestine" (remember that this contest was supposed to be 'not political'?) Hm yes discreet. So discreet he declared his intentions to interviewers so that everyone would know it was HIS idea. "Discreet", human please. And the result of all that talk was...

(lol I'm SO making it sound like I care about what political standpoints any of these acts took, and I don't. But I do call out a fraud when I spot one.)

Yeah well thanks for trying, but I'd rather you hadn't. A statement you can apply to my feelings of the entry overall. Okay, we've reached full circle, time to move on to our designated palate cleanser because THIS page is a safe zone for people of good taste.

The universe where YLE overrules the results and sends THEM to ESC is the one where we head to Helsinki twice in a row.

THE RANKING

[casuallyferal]

It's been announced that Elon is reflecting on making X membership exclusive, ie where you pay to have an X membership.

With the upcoming death of X, I find myself having meta thoughts about my fandoms, the art community, and where they intersect; and, how much those things radically-and-completely changed after the death of Tumblr -- and still haven't recovered.

(this does relate to Cross!Sans' recent win I prommy just give me a minute)

...

To start off with an example:

Some folks still remember the mass death of Tumblr.

It's hard to describe it to people who didn't see it.

There were actual casualties. Y'all remember that, too? The deaths?

Most of them were because for many people, their ~5-10 years of portfolio disappeared overnight with no recovery. Even for folks who had backups, the little things that mattered most, like reblog-chains, had been compromised. I remember reading a vent post that stuck w/ me of a college applicant sobbing because their blog was going to be their portfolio to apply, and the needed morning, it was gone. They lived through an abusive home and lost their out. They stopped posting after that.

There are keystone works that now only exist in our minds.

Cornerstones of both fandom and people's real lives were erased by a mega corp afraid of organic Human sensuality, the artist's familiar muse. A kiss, a shirtless photo, a man lounging in the sun, didn't matter. Gone with no explanatory messages. Everything was very unstable about the rules for a disturbingly long time with ghost-edits to the sitewide rules, and vague lettering. If you posted a single dangly bit, you're out. If you posted male or female nypples at any point, you're out. The rules now aren't the rules that were for a little while, long enough to carve up careers and sink fandoms.

As a case study:

Try to understand that if you're a new arrival into an old fandom from the Before Times, like say Undertale,

... you arrived into a fandom carved into quarters.

Everything we cared about and definitive blogs & art pieces vanished. I was temporarily surprised that Cross!Sans won the AU contest instead of the longtime fandom favorites like G!Sans.

For years, he was our fandom mascot.

I had a harrowing realization and began doomscrolling to confirm that nobody can find 👌the showstopping sensuality 👌😩 of G!Sans. It's gone.

G-o-n-e gone, can't find it anywhere, like that mfker into his smoke.

Our fandom values and cultural pillars that we built ourselves were deleted off-site by some Suits.

Everything the young people inherited was bleached-out and fucking sanitized by a corporation. We had no choice but to tolerate that, even as self aware as we were about it.

...this cultural-drift was not because of natural evolution, but because we weren't sterile enough to "make the cut;" and now, it's definitive with a clear before/after gap.

...

I'm of the opinion that the online art community has never really recovered from these repeat events.

It's never been the same:

I see a lot less WIPs unless it's teasing a piece.

I see less reckless abbandon in artwork. There's less scribbles.

There's less breath on the canvas.

People tightened their shit up into hyper polished presentation-pieces.

There's less shitposting in general. People used to post doodles and silly faces and polished pieces were in between.

I think this new media relationship comes from a place of collective hurt. I think many of us realized all society gives a fuck about is money money money money for something that for many of us is a necessary biproduct of being alive. The people who couldn't handle that never came back. They Told Us So when they left, and coincidentally, never came back -- or came back different.

❕ (brief cw cp)

As necessary aside, I'm not lumping in the CP -- it's that every platform has CP, and addressing CP head-on on a platform like Tumblr also meant having regulations that corporate with legal, consensual sensuality, and that's not feasible without endorsing that exists... AND, is deeply influential to many artists. Tumblr wasn't willing to do that.

Tumblr wasn't willing to accept ads from orgs that are okay with that, either.

❕ (cw over)

I feel like this keeps happening... Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter/X... because it comes from a cultural climate of fear towards the veritable Human qualities, some raw, beastial, or even vestigial, of which is the Creative's foundational wellspring. What inspires is often transgressive, and there's no room for such things on a corporate level due to the sterile inhumanity of present day economics. If it's not palettable enough that it can be sold to stockholders with polished floors and dry-cleaned suits, we're a weed between the concrete.

Get too tall and we're seen as a disordered presentation of society instead of just... just, Human. Raw, beastial, vestigially Human.

...

At the end of the day,

our inherently-self-expressive Human potential keeps getting butchered alive by fear of sex & sensuality and love, and the bitter taste of culturally dominant hatespeech; to really spit on the situation, the biggest driver behind both of those is economic. There's a desire knit into the social fabric to squeeeeeeze every fkn penny possible out of an inherently involuntary part of the Creative's experience.

For many, creating freely is a necessary part of a Creative's self-regulation, regardless of whether it's just a hobby or a career path. Creatives create things. We have to or we wilt. It is counter-intuitive to the nature of Wall Street, as it stands, and so it will never favor us -- let alone begin to understand that, without overhaul.

For me, painting is like breathing, I have to do it or I become ill.

...

...It's like... they bottled our air.

Dammed our wellsprings and sell our own work back to us in plastic jugs. Elusive, ominous "they," vague because it's a lottery for whoever plays "them" next; executioner with hanging-rope in hand to strange the creative experience.

There's nothing sacred left when it's all about making money.

...so, where's next?

(: Might as well grit our teeth about it and stay organized. Mastodon, I think? Dreamwidth also? Misskey? Where have you heard? Where do I go, now?

I miss the reblog-artfights and having Tumblr friends before it was deleted by a suit, and I don't want to lose that.

[nuwildcat]

TRICK OR TREAT 😈

Right so, this is your fault, let's just establish that early on. It is also @khathastrophe's fault for drawing this fucking amazing fan art of Big/Tay and infecting us all with the Big/Tay brainrot again. 💜

Tay dips his finger into his glass, swirling the block of ice slowly around the dregs of his drink. His eyes are locked on the pretty man in the middle of the dance floor, as they have been for the last ten minutes.

Sweeping up and down the human's svelte form, Tay feels the first stirring of hunger in his belly. His prey has figured out it's being watched, head pivoting to try and locate the hungry gaze, but the man has yet to see Tay.

"Anything else I can get you, gorgeous?" The sun-kissed bartender asks him with a wink and a smile.

Tempting, but Tay can smell the vampire all over that one. Not worth the pissing contest of stepping on the toes of something that smells that old.

"No thanks," Tay responds before looking back at the dance floor. He frowns when his quarry is nowhere to be found.

Leaving more than enough for the drink and a tip under his glass, Tay slips from the bar stool and begins his hunt. Wherever the man has wandered to, Tay can find him again. He has his scent after all.

Taking the most delicate of sniffs — clubs are always a dangerous place for anyone with enhanced senses — he can follow the mouthwatering scent like a ribbon floating in mid-air, connecting him to the pretty man.

Tay winds through the dance floor, touching and being touched, but not allowing it to distract him. The scent turns down a hallway, and Tay spies a door cracked open. 

Pushing the door open just far enough to escape the heat and the noise of the club, Tay finds the man leaning against the far wall.

Tay has always found the ritual of smoking to be a particularly intricate set of human behaviors. It creates comradery where usually there is none with a complete stranger. For example, all he has to do now, is pull a cigarette out and fumble with his lighter to get the assistance of the man that has tempted him terribly tonight.

"Need a light?" The question is asked with a kind smile from the stranger, and Tay knows that he's going to enjoy this meal.

"Yes, thank you. Mine seems to be broken." Tay shakes the lighter for good measure, but it's all an act.

They smoke in silence for a few minutes, Tay artfully draping himself along the brick wall and gaining an appreciative pair of eyes for his efforts. The other man is strangely quiet, almost respectful. Tay is used to lewd comments or bad pick up lines at this point, but all he gets is silence.

Taking a risk, he says, "You dance beautifully, by the way."

"What?" the man asks, bewildered but with a charming blush on his cheeks.

"On the dance floor," Tay explains, "I saw you. To be fair you were pretty hard to miss."

The man clears his throat, shifting awkwardly and flicking at his cigarette. He must gather whatever courage he has because the next words out of his mouth are, "You're hard to miss yourself."

Tay smiles. He's charming and those are the ones that Tay enjoys the most. Slinking closer to the other man, Tay stops just before their toes touch.

"Oh?" Tay tips his head to the side, eyes fixed.

"Y-yes." The man stumbles over his words for just a moment.

"So you think I'm pretty?" Tay teases. It's remarkably easy with this one, and he's finding himself enjoying the hunt more than usual.

The man nods. "Very."

Running one finger down the man's chest, Tay slouches a bit so he can look up at the man through his lashes. "Aren't you charming."

Tay takes a step closer and the man relents space to him, stepping back. So Tay takes another, and another, and another, until the man is pressed back against the brick wall. They still aren't touching, but Tay can feel the heat of the man's body.

"Tell me, handsome." He watches the human's throat bob at his words. "Am I pretty enough to kiss?"

Breathlessly the man says, "Yes."

Feeding is an indulgence of the senses. He's an incubus, pleasure and hunger go hand in hand for him. But there's something special about this human.

He tastes divine.

Tay is licking into the man's mouth before he has a name to gasp later, and he does not want to stop. The human's need to breathe is the only thing that makes Tay relent. Licking his lips, Tay tries to reign his hunger and instincts back in.

He is not very successful.

Tay presses the man to the wall, licking up his throat. Beautifully, the man yields, tipping his head back and granting Tay more room. Tay fingers at the waist of the man's black leather pants.

"What's your name, handsome?" he asks.

"Big," the man manages while trembling in Tay's grasp. "And yours?"

"You can call me, Tay."

Leaning back in to kiss Big, Tay knows that tonight will be one to remember. Rarely does he find a meal this mouthwatering. Nipping at Big's jaw and earning a lovely groan, Tay plans to devour this one slowly.

[jwirecs]

Recommended BTS Fics of December 💖

hello, hello! here are my bts recs of december! hopefully these beautiful stories get more recognition as well as the writers 💝

** anything in parentheses and bolded are my thoughts that can be disregarded if needed **

🔞smut || 💔angst || 💕fluff || ✅completed || 🔄ongoing || 💯favorite

Cherries || @j4goh​​​ 🔞✅

↳ jungkook as your many firsts, including the first one to make you cum in seconds.

First Kiss || @starsin-youreyes​​💕✅

↳ "we should really never do this again unless you want me to be completely head over heels for you."

Glitch || @koostarcandy​​💕✅

↳ a slight malfunction in your brain led to one of your greatest life choices.

Muse || @jvngkook97-blog​💕✅

↳ in which Jungkook is a contestant on a reality show for top artists in the nation and he asks you to partake in a FaceTime interview at the last second. 

Main Story -> Art Of The Soul

On Mute || @yoon-kooks​ 🔞💕✅💯

↳ You always assumed your handsome coworker was down to fuck anyone in the office except for you. He always assumed you weren’t interested in a guy like him. And both of you were content with never admitting your feelings… until he unknowingly confides in you in the realms of a certain tactical FPS game.

Choices || @jjngkook7​​💕💔🔄💯💯

↳ Jungkook finally found her. His mate. His lifelong partner. But she's a human. Does he have to stay with her or can he stick it to whatever and whoever binds mates together and make his own decision?

Come Sail Away || @the-boy-meets-evil​​ 🔞💕💔✅

↳ kim seokjin is the captain of a sailing team bound for one of the biggest regattas around. only one problem: that team also includes taehyung, who's incredibly accident prone. will he let you save the day despite your history?

Riding Fake || @ugh-yoongi​​💕💔✅

↳ (or, the one where you think you’re getting a fake boyfriend, but you end up with a whole lot more.)

Sweetener || @taegularities​ 🔞💕✅

↳ you used to know how he sounded when you were wrapped around him, but circumstances have pulled you apart and sent you scattering in opposite directions. Feelings shouldn’t reappear so easily by simple words, but when you find yourselves in the same place once again, this is exactly what happens.

Darksided || @eoieopda​​​🔞💕✅💯

↳ Min Yoongi adored you. He’d simply never hurt you - unless you asked.

Don’t Argue || @yoongiofmine​​ 🔞💕✅💯

↳ After almost six years together, Yoongi asked you to move in with him. You’re done packing your whole apartment for the move, and he shows up to make sure your last night at your old place is special.

Run || @idekhowtodothis​​​🔞💕✅

↳ Jungkookk doesnt want you to leave him for some stupid karaoke party so he tries his best to make you stay. Although his intentions start out playful, they quickly grow corrupted, especially after your somewhat hurtful words

Very Familiar || @champagneher​​💕✅

↳ being jin’s girlfriend brings good moments with the members as well.

Wax On || @monimonimoon​​​💕✅

↳ Your waxer cancelled on you last minute and there was no one else available. Your boyfriend volunteers and, against all your better judgement, you let him do it.

Bunny Adventures || @kooktrash​​ 🔞💕💔✅💯

↳ you had absolutely no intentions of ever owning a hybrid until jungkook came along. a mistreated, misunderstood rabbit hybrid who’d only ever wanted was to be treated like an equal.

Changing Times || @moonlightkoo💕💔🔄💯💯💯

↳ In which Jeon Jungkook has been sentenced for community service at a hybrid rehabilitation center- and what began as a simple punishment for his petty crimes, ends with life lessons he will probably never forget.

This Could Be Home || @bangtanflirt​​💕💔🔄

↳ As a purebred adopted by a high class family, some would think Jungkook had it all–but the pain behind the facade inevitably catches up to him. It’s only when you and Hoseok enter his life does he (gradually) allow himself to feel happiness again.

Guilty || @xjoonchildx​​🔞💕💔✅

↳ as the man at the top, kim namjoon has almost everything he wants. almost. could a familiar face from the past change his future?

Ride Or Die || @btsmosphere​​💕💔🔄

↳ yoongi isn’t sure when he became so accustomed to your ineffably cheery presence. until he sees that innocence crack, he hadn’t realised how far he would go to keep it there.

Touch || @intplayboy​​​💕💔🔄💯

↳ you have finally escaped the filthy jail you were made to grow up in as a guinea pig. on your way out, you bump into two members of south korea's most infamous mafia gang. stunned by the rather intriguing encounter with you, the younger one decides to bring you back to their home base in secret, only to have their plan foiled when the rest of the gang catches them red handed and the entire group unanimously decides what to do with the strange girl, which is you.

Fighting Heart || @kooktrash​​ 🔞💕💔✅

↳ never living a life of luxury, Jungkook does what he has to do to make ends-meet. right now that means fighting in underground clubs, getting beat black and blue until he wins. he knows there’s a better life out there for him but he never let himself think about it. until you came along and suddenly a weight is being lifted off his shoulders letting you through his guarded walls. you’re everything he needed and you make him want to fight for more.

Mate || @7deadlysinsfics​💕💔🔄💯

↳ Jungkook knew in his soul from the moment your eyes met his in the forest that you were his mate, that he was meant to protect you at any cost. You’d been through hell while escaping a place that had treated you horribly since your childhood, and it was strange how calm you felt in his presence when you found yourself in an unfamiliar place with a stranger. Something inside of you told you to trust him.

Not So Bossy || @jungkookschin​💕💔✅

↳ An irksome feeling infests Jungkook's system when his girlfriend lets him know that she can't meet up after not seeing him for three weeks.

Schlimazel || @intplayboy​​💕💔🔄💯

↳ [ schlimazel - a consistently unlucky person. ] you surely did not imagine encountering the individuals you admire most while beaten and bruised. yet, it ironically became the beginning of an unforeseen and beautiful friendship that unknowingly evolved beyond that.

Silver Sugar || @moonlightkoo ​💕💔🔄💯

↳ He's heavy boots, silver chains, piercings and ink, while you are pastel colors, soft clothes and shy smiles. There's no way he's interested in you. He's just being nice. Right?

Already Mine || @i-am-baechu​​​ 🔞💕💔✅💯💯

↳ “I do.” Two simple words that changed her whole world. The man that gave her love that she never had before and a child that looked just like him with her eyes, a story for the ages. It wasn’t until the mornings changed and the warmth he once had turned cold. Nothing made sense but at the same time everything did. All she wanted was him but maybe that's not what he wants...

Cinnamon Bliss || @yoonia​🔞💕💔✅💯

↳ Ever since the day he walked through the front door of your cafe hand in hand with his sweet daughter on one gloomy afternoon in the middle of winter, he had captured your heart without him even knowing it. All the time, you had chosen to stay on the sidelines, watching him mend his broken heart in silence while he teaches his own daughter that it was okay to be a kid despite the pain that they shared. You know you shouldn’t be so infatuated with him or let this feeling go any deeper. Because nothing could prepare you when you are forced to watch him move on, completely unaware that he is about to be breaking your heart into pieces.

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus || @daydreamer-writing​​​​💕✅

↳ Yoongi didn't know what to do with kids. Especially not with 3-year old Jungkook, but his Seokjin Hyung asked him to babysit, so who is he to refuse. Yoongi still didn't know what to do with kids, especially not with Jungkook, who just told him that he witnessed his mom kissing Santa Claus.

Take On The World || @sweetestofchaos​​​💕💔🔄💯💯

↳ When the Min pack go to Vegas the last thing they expect is for their Pack Omega to imprint on…a child! Join the guys as they travel along the path of parenting with all it’s highs and lows.

The Line Between Love and War || @purpleyoonn​​🔞💕💔🔄💯💯

↳ Your experiences told you that soulmates were something you would never have the pleasure of having; something not given to you because of who you are, despite the soulmark that resides on your inner left wrist. During your solo trip to Los Angeles, you find out that you are more than capable, that your soulmates had been waiting for you for a long time, and would not be letting you go anytime soon.

Hoseok!Au - College Au || @notevenagoodgirl​​​​​💕💔✅

↳ An AU where Hoseok and Y/N don’t really get along even though they’re in the same group of friends. What happens when shitty roommates and monthly bills bring them closer than ever?

I Fell In Love With A Girl Group Stan || @i-am-baechu​​​​🔞💕💔✅

↳ Going to a BTS concert with her best friend was an anxiety attack waiting to happen because she only knew a handful of their songs and felt like an intruder but she didn’t want her to go alone. She made two mistakes. Number one, not changing her lockscreen from Irene to something else and number two, wearing a Red Velvet lanyard. When her friend wins a raffle to meet them, everything changes for her and the youngest member; especially when her alarm starts playing Bad Boy in the middle of her sentence.

Do check out all of the other BTS Fics that i have reblogged as well!!

** if there is any fics that you guys would like to recommend, please do! i am slowly running out of fics to read **

[yumedoca]

Yuca reads 'The Rumic Theatre!!': Those Selfish Aliens

First up, Those Selfish Aliens (Kattena Yatsura)!! Oh my god, I love this one. Like, I love all of the Rumic World One-Shots but I have a special soft spot for this one because it really shows Rumiko's skill and potential. This work was judged by a couple of mangaka since it was an entry to Shonen Sunday's "newcomer contest", in quotes because I forgot the actual name of the contest and I'm too lazy to google it but it's basically what it says, and the judges comments were more or less like "art could improve a lot but it is a very fun and creative story". And yeah, they're right. The artstyle is cute and nostalgic but some drawings, expressions and stuff feel a bit weak. I've noticed this in early UY too btw, there's this one panel where Lum is sitting on branch in a tree and the size difference and proportion between Lum and the tree felt really off. Of course, these are all things Rumiko improves at while making UY, Her drawings and expressions looks a lot more alive and wonderful since then, her size and proportion game is incredible and her artstyle is literally iconic and it's really satisfying to see how much someone like Rumiko has improved and it's really inspirational too. The story also showed off Rumiko's potential perfectly when it comes to storytelling, it's so wonderfully wacky and creative, a literal example of thinking outside the box. Like, the whole concept of 'a newspaper delivery guy gets abducted by aliens and then fishmen and then humans, who all place bombs inside of him, while he wants to deliver the goddamned papers and also meets this cute, awesome girl who was the fishmen's pet, but then the universe is in peril because of the bomb planters stupidity and selfishness (thus the title) and they form a truce and make sure the guy delivers his papers as safely as possible while the guy doesn't know that he's a literal fucking explosive and the girl hangs out with him even though she knows' is absolutely insane, like oh my god (I had so much fun typing everything in the single quoted section lol). It's so entertaining and it shows that Rumiko Takahashi has a bunch of great ideas with this being one of them. It's charming, funny, the characters are likeable and it just such a fun and cozy read. Also, I hear many say that this is the blueprint to Urusei Yatsura but asides from the Sci-fi themes, dappyamen, the title, Akane's flirtatious behavior being a bit similar to Lum's; it's not really all that similar to UY lol. Anyways, Kei is a funny protagonist and the gag of him being dedicated to his newspaper deliveries is so damn funny (on a related note: He's dedicated to his job, and he respects women, 10/10 man) and Akane (Rumiko's first ever Akane) is a lovable, strong and supportive female lead.

They are both also really cute together btw, made for each other.

Anyway, really enjoyed this one: 8/10.

[wyrm-in-a-closet]

What’s ccc about? :-)

CROWN'S CASTLE OF CHAOS

is a competition based object show hosted by Crown, a Crown. CCC takes place in a world much like that of our own, although inhabited not by humans, but objects. Aside from that however, the world of CCC (also called Vino- which i just made up but it needed a name) is almost the same as ours- in fact, a map of the only inhabited planet reveals it has the same countries, cities, and locations as our familiar earth.

The contestants of CCC were all approached one day (specifically september 17th, around 4 pm central time) and asked if they wanted to join a contest- it would be short, only a single day long, but the winner of it would win something far greater than simple fame or fortune. They were asked this by Crown- a mysterious object with power over Time, Space, and Matter, each controlled by one of the three gems in his head.

Crown, art by @lynxz-studios- If i end up posting more art later, it's all by them- they're super fucking cool and helped a lot with early CCC

After each contestant accepts the invitation, they are teleported to the Game Area, a mountainous location overlooking a small lake, with a large castle sitting overlooking it all. Challenges take place in the castle, in the surrounding land, and on the lake, although all within a fairly fixed boundary.

This is the location of CCC. the castle is located on the side of the slopes of Mt. Stimson.

The competition begins with 25 competitors:

If you want I can pull out individual images for you, but if i did that then this post would be miles long. Once again, done by Lynxz theyre so fucking aweosme

The first challenge has no teams- it's a simple one, to climb to the top of a giant rock pillar. it's only after this challenge happens and the first contestant is voted off that teams form- 4 teams of 6, which later merge into 2 teams of 6, and then teams finally dissolve. there are A Lot of characters here so I might not go into detail for each one, but the most major characters so far are Seed and Spyglass, as well as Witchy being one who's a biiiit less important but has more lore. these parts are a bit more spoiler-y, although Seed's main arc will happen within Act 1 of CCC (oh right- CCC will have three acts, corresponding with the merging of teams and dissolution of teams. Seed's arc is probably the main event of Act 1 actually, so I'll go into in this post. If you want, I can make a seperate post detailing the late game, spoilery stuff (like Crown Lore alongside Spyglass's plot).

in the first challenge, Seed (full name Helicopter Seed) is used by Hair Dryer to easily beat the challenge. Because hair dryer can simply turn on and blow Seed, she will fly up into the air. In the team forming at the beginning of episode 2, Dryer forces Seed to join team "We're Not Doing That Name" against her will, but she cannot change teams. In several subsequent challenges, Dryer will again use Seed to be challenges. Seed protests at each time, first saying that Dryer should at least ask, but later outright asking dryer to not do that- but dryer refuses, stating the "Good of the team"- after all, they haven't let lost at challenge. also, if Seed doesn't go along, she'll be voted off.

we interrupt your regular scheduled lore dump to explain the CCC voting system- while Episode 1 is simply viewer voting, further episodes will use teammate voting with viewer given immunity- like what iii did. this is because it gives me more control over the plot and who's eliminated but viewers are still like. a thing. we now return to your regularly scheduled lore dump.

Finally, seed snaps. I'm hoping that she'll have won viewer immunity the last couple rounds, because people tend to sympathize with someone who's literlaly being abused especially when basically eveyronen on the team doesn't do anyhting about it and is also not great. so she figures- she can sabotage the team without getting voting off- particularly, she just wants hair brush and hair dryer to be eliminated (brush is dryer's main accomplice and friend). She goes about the sabotage quit violently, even killing her own teammates if it means her team won't win (i'll get to recovery in a bit). she's just, off the rail unhinged. shes not okay.

there are a few different ways this can go, but what I'm hoping for is for Seed to be succesful and continue getting voter immunity, until team consolidation happens, at which point any remaining team members of WNDTN are sent to the other team, where Seed can't do anything to them, or were previously eliminated. I could see a possibility of Dryer advancing as well, which could have some fun potential, but in Act 2 of CCC, her main arc will be about isolation because. man she fucked up her own team really badly, nobody wants to associate her (except for maybe spyglass- heh), she's an outcast, she's done horrible things, and now she just has to carry on. as for whether or not she makes it to Act 3 is up in the air, i have a few ideas for late game seed and spyglass stuff.

okay that's the seed lore. onto the Recovery Machine. while making the ideas for CCC, i had a few ideas for recovery, but i quite like what i settled on. now i want to preface this by saying that normally, in Vino, recovery is Not Normal. no recovery machines exist, all deaths are permanent. Until Crown shows up.

Every 5 minutes, a "save state" is created of each contestant. each save state is kept for 6 minutes, the extra minute is so that if a brutal injury happens immediately before a savestate or there is some other error in creating a state, there is a temporary backup, although Crown must trigger the backup save state to be loaded (which he can do remotely.) If the machine detects that somebody has died, it will load their save state. this save state will retain none of the memories from between when the save state was made and their death.

there are two reasons I went with this system: first, it allows for permanent injury (such as some in shows like PPT2), but without just totally forgoing a revival system and having perma death. I have at least two ideas for permanent injuries that can happen later in the story. secondly, the angst potential and uniqueness of losing some memory when you die is just too good to pass up- think of a character learning something they shouldn't know, and being killed so they won't remember it- or a chase sequence where someone attempts to do the above before the 5 minutes passes and another state is created, solidifying their memories.

in Acts 2 and 3 the revival machine and it's... history become a VERY important plot point, ill go into that more if i make a spoiler post.

and that's about it for the Intro to Crown's Castle of Chaos!

[violetsiren90]

4, 17, 18, 45, 46!! For the ask game!!

4. Awwwww maannnnn! Top 10 songs is haaaaarrrdddd *whiny whiny whining*...but also fun! 😁 Okay, so here we go in no specific order (accept for numero uno):

Mikrokosmos 💜✨

Love Yourself: Answer

Life Goes On

People (Agust D)

The Astronaut (Jin)

On

We Are Bulletproof: The Eternal

I'm Fine

Tomorrow (B/c it's Yoongi's favorite, and he is my favorite 💗)

Sweet Night (V)

*Special Mentions: Best of Me, First Love, My Universe (I have been a Coldplay fan since high school), Moon, and Blood Sweat and Tears

I really like songs that deal with love (love of self, other, etc) and human relationships, and I think this comes out in my favs. But this was me being really straight-up about which ones I play most often, my list could be so, so much longer lol.

17. Tae's, hands down. He has this really elegant aspect to his style that always underscores even his gaudiest and edgiest fits. His style also reminds me of someone whom I loved dearly and lost, and I think I connect to his fashion on a sentimental level as well (which I think he would approve of? lol). I wanted that bag he designed so badly!! Maybe one day...

18. I would say I have Tae's personality (predominantly) with Namjoon's interests! My mom always tells me (she's Army as well) that Tae and I would be able to understand each other without words, and that Namjoon and I could talk to each other to death! 😂 I could elaborate on this endlessly, so I'll just leave it at that I guess.

I also want to add that I think I am a lot like Jimin as a romantic partner (or what I would imagine he is like), and I'm an enneagram type 2 - so I feel like I share existential motivations with Yoongi.

45. Ooh, this is a toughie. Okay, Imma do my best here, because realistically I would think about this for WEEKS, but here goes nothing (note: these gifts are ones I would give the members if we were friends, they are way too intimate for fan gifts, lol😅) :

Namjoon: I would buy him a piece of art that reminded me of him. I would probably choose from the works of Yun Hyong-keun, and include a letter describing how the piece made me feel, and all the lovely ways it reminded me of the person he is. I see Namjoon as really valuing words of affirmation from those he loves, and as someone who struggles to see himself positively often, I would hope a gift like that would remind him that he is a beautiful soul who is deeply loved every time he saw it.

Jin: I would buy him a professional kitchen stocked with rare ingredients and attached to an intimate dining area. A place he could mess around with learning to make all kinds of dishes, and feed his many friends without having to actually run a restaurant. I feel like one of the reasons he loves food so much is that it brings people together. He'd be the host with the most!

Yoongi: I think I remember hearing him saying somewhere in an interview that his parents got rid of the brown piano he references in "First Love". If it was within my power I would hunt that thing down, have it refurbished, and give it to him if it was the last thing I fucking did. But I would have to, like, drop it and run. I couldn't see him receive it, because if he shed even one tear over it in my presence I would sob until I died of dehydration.

Hobi: I've noticed that Hobi, of all the members, seems most interested in mentoring upcoming artists. He watches the elimination shows and knows the contestants by name! I would found a dance school called "Hope on the Street" in his name. He would be the head of the board of directors. It could run independently and he could be as involved as he wanted so that during busy times, he wouldn't be faced with another thing on his plate, but he could still make all the decisions regarding its operation. I imagine he would love to drop in on classes and do surprise lessons.

Jimin: Is there anyone in the history of the world who longs to hear "I love you" (or likes to say it) more than precious Park Jimin?? I would collaborate with members on this one. Jimin likes to travel, so I would probably gift him a trip with the members. I know he said he wanted to go to Europe with them again. I would have all the members sign a lock and put it on that bridge in Paris that symbolizes eternal love. He also likes to party, so, maybe rent out a club with bottle service a la Dom Pérignon?

Tae: I would give him the biggest roaring 20's bash of all time. Like, a Gatsby style party where he was the man himself. A champagne fountain and a jazz band and everyone is wearing their flapper finest and a giant cake with pretty people popping out of it...

And each member would give a toast saying what they love most about him.

I would also wave a magical wand that made people leave him alone about his love life if I could, and just let him be happy 🤷‍♀️

JK: I would give him flying lessons so that he could get his pilot's license and then give him the chance to fly a jet. I feel like he would absolutely be doing loops and corkscrews through the sky in no time flat. He also loves Army, so I would compile a book of all the sweetest Army comments and dedications and put them together for him. Maybe submissions where he can see some first names and faces of those who were willing just so that he can see how many people adore him and are grateful for his love for his fans.

46. Hmmmmmm...I would love a Yoonjin colab, tbh. I love their friendship, and as Yoongi's styled has softened it would be so awesome to hear alongside Jin's. (uau, padada!🥰)

Thank you for the asks, @orchidyoonkook , ILY!!!!! 🥰🥰🥰

[envihellbender]

Greek gods as a crime family

Obviously I can’t do all of the Greek Gods so I’m going to do the most well known 12 and may do a sequel / follow up, later.

Zeus:

Zeus is the head of the crime family. The Godfather of the night / νονοί της νύχτας. He is a brutal, terrifying man who seems charming when you first meet him. He has a warm smile and is happy to offer you everything you could possibly want… but every word is a game, a potential trap. He brings as many people into his web as he possibly can and he will fuck, beat, and kill with abandon.

Zeus, to his wife Hera’s dismay - a powerful and horrifying woman in her own right - has an unknown number of illegitimate children who often join the family in small but powerful positions. He’s the man people offer their beautiful 20 something relatives to for power, prestige, and money.

He lives in extravagant wealth, beyond that of any one of his rank before him. He hordes art, historical artefacts, money, food, fine clothes, jewellery, and everything he could possibly want.

Poseidon

Zeus’s brother and second in command. He lives more hedonistically than Zeus, his sex life is equal in quantity but his partners are significantly more varied. He’s happy to fuck anyone of any gender, and has been known to attend parties on cruise ships were a lot of horrific things take place but everyone present has to sign an NDA.

He is primarily responsible for contact with crime families oversees, as well as overseeing the illegal car trades, body shops, and the like. He collects cars, vintage, modern, and more. Beneath his house is a gigantic garage filled with more than he could possibly keep track of.

His children generally aren’t involved with the crime family, they enjoy his protection and allowance without going to near to him. This is partially because the actions of him and his brother towards their children has resulted in their mothers refusing him much contact. Something he has not contested.

Hermes

Hermes is often referred to as Zeus’s ‘messenger boy’ when being belittled by their rivals and enemies in polite company. Outside of that they tend to prefer remarks such as his ‘favourite whore’. The first of these titles come from the fact that it Zeus wishes to deliver news, a threat, or orders, he will probably send Hermes if it is to someone of importance. The latter comes from the fact Hermes is a beautiful, young man who people insist is being fucked by Zeus, Poseidon, and others. It’s true of course, but Hermes isn’t going to admit that.

His other work involves keeping the strip clubs and pimps in check, and keeping an eye on the human trafficking rings under his family’s control. Whilst he often visits the strip clubs for dances from people of all genders, often doing illicit substances as he does, he makes it a rule not to touch the more vulnerable victims. His job is easier if he doesn’t see their faces.

Hermes’ unofficial role is a strategist, he’s cunning and enjoys planning his rivals downfall more than anything else. Whilst it is not spoken of publicly, it is generally known that Zeus would not make a tactical decision without discussing it with Hermes first.

Hera:

Hera is the wife of Zeus and due to misogynistic rules Hera is not technically a member of the crime family but that does not stop her involvement. She is arguably one of the most sadistic members, she sits on the sidelines and watches her husband. She has been known to seek revenge on his affair partners, as well as their children.

She also has a role within the sex work industry that the family controls. Her job is to look after them, make sure their happy, healthy, and their pimps are treating them correctly. It’s a surprising role for a crime family to have but they want to have the best working for them.

As a mother she has her faults, she plays favourites and can be obsessive and distant. She keeps Ares as close as she can, often insisting on wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close if their in the same room even as he grows into an adult. Eris and Hephasteus were neglected horrifically by her, they have an important role within the family but rarely see their mother. She can be controlling, abusive, but loving, causing some discord.

Hades

Hades has little direct contact with Zeus, he is the head of the family’s assassin syndicate. He is in charge of making people disappear in ways that the hitmen are not equipped for. He often picks up street kids and other runaways, bringing them into his home and training them in brutal regimes to push them to join his league of world class assassins.

Hades’ home and area of the city he has been given control over by Zeus is known as the underworld by the locals. It’s not quite the same as the red light district or places to score drugs, it’s colder. He owns every bar, restaurant, shopping mall and the like. It’s the place you go to disappear, no one will go looking for you, and a place where people go to self destruct. Often they don’t come out alive.

The man himself is very secretive, he has a penthouse above the biggest nightclub in the underworld. He sits there looking out over his area of the city, working intensely, and is where he has trapped his beautiful wife Persephone. They have a large akita named Cerberus who is often taken to meetings with Hades as an intimidation tactic.

Dionysus

Dionysus is the son of Zeus, and a mother he never had the chance to meet. The official story is she died of a terminal illness when Dionysus was a baby. There is some significant suspicion however that Zeus or Hera were responsible for her death. He had a loving father who spoiled him, too an extreme point, and a step-mother who treated him like a rotting carcass in her home she had to tolerate. He has a happy-go-lucky attitude, but his charming, optimistic nature can be used in an extremely manipulative manner. He is often underestimated and he likes to keep it that way.

Dionysus runs the most expensive and exclusive brothel / gentleman’s club in the city. He sits, a gigantic presence, in the centre of the main hall. He drinks constantly, and has beautiful young men and women fawning over him, filling his wine glasses, his plates of food, giving him lap dances, grinding against his fat, and more sexual and explicit acts. He only deals with the best of the best, the highest quality, and the most expensive. Sometimes this is because they’re talented and well treated, other times it’s because they cater to an extremely specific fetish.

Dionysus’s home is above the brothel and he is rarely seen there. He doesn’t see the need to move massively, and he has plenty of pretty people to run up and down the stairs for him to bring him whatever he desires. He surprisingly gets on fairly well with Hermes, who often comes by to see him for work. Dionysus will give him whatever any information Hermes likes and all Hermes has to do is let Dionysus lear over him and pour him several glasses of wine.

Demeter

Demeter is in charge of the drug trade as well as various poisons. She has many cooks, factories, greenhouses filled with various illicit plants, and the like. She’s a very well trained, brilliant botanist, and chemist. She is known for her cold demeanour and vicious attitude to running her part of the business. Both of which she keeps for her family too.

Demeter’s relationship with her brother Zeus is a difficult and dysfunctional one. Demeter always sees herself as the real power between the family and feels as if she should be at the head. Perhaps if there was not a rigid patriarchal structure left behind from centuries past she would be. As a result they often fight and argue, Persephone often being the one who settled things between them before she disappeared. Now that responsibility lies with Hermes instead.

When her daughter Persephone was either taken or ran off to he with Hades (there is conflicting accounts for both sides), she was furious. It cause a split in the family for a while, a civil war of sorts that took a long time to settle and heal. It meant that the young man Demeter had had picked out to be married to Persephone from the day she was born was no longer an option for her. It also meant that Persephone was outside of Demeter’s grasp.

Apollo

Apollo is the son of Zeus, and his mistress Leto who was mysteriously killed after giving birth to twins Apollo and Artemis. The rumours state that it was most likely Hera who committed the murder but any investigations into the matter are completely dismissed and stopped at every turn. In terms of Zeus’s illegitimate children, Apollo and Artemis weren’t the most hated of them by Hera. She generally was ambivalent to them, and they were greatly favoured by Zeus even if they weren’t his absolute favourite children.

Apollo is one of two of the most treasured hitmen in the family, along with his twin sister. He is an extremely talented sniper who is always the one Zeus keeps close by for the most important of situations. He is preferred to Artemis because Apollo is less independent and easier to control. He works closely with Hades and Ares, but isn’t directly connected to either part of the family and Apollo and Artemis are the only hitmen who do not have to answer to Ares. This creates a lot of hostility between the two, especially since Zeus often pushes them against each other.

Apollo has a basic but skilled knowledge of medicine and basic surgery, with strong connections to the crime family’s doctors. He often takes responsibility for his own injuries, which are rare given his talent and the fact that outside of the family not many people know what he looks like. This keeps him safe from unexpected attacks, but Apollo finds it frustrating that Zeus keeps such a tight grip on him ensuring that he keeps quiet and out of sight. This is partially because Zeus likes to maintain an air of seeming more in control than he is, and that he is controlling everyone and everything.

Artemis

Artemis is Apollo’s twin, an equally talented sniper to her brother but is used less consistently by Zeus. Artemis is more independent and, in her father’s words, ‘wild’. As a result she is much less likely to take orders, and she isn’t as much use to Zeus as a hitman. However, she is of great use to others on the family who prefer not to use Apollo because of his subservience to Zeus. Artemis is used fairly often by Hades, Demeter, and Hera.

Artemis and Apollo have been extremely close since they were children, the favourite things to do were to spar, play hide and seek in the forest by their house, and climb trees. Even as adults they would quite often play fight, entering multi-storey car parks late at night and both trying to hunt each other down. Artemis has some resentment to Apollo, impatient and frustrated with how happy he is to just bend to Zeus’s will.

Artemis often disappears for days at a time, she goes camping in the woods and uses it as a time to be as self sufficient as possible. She will hunt her own food, and usually tries to time it over the full moon so that she can use it for light when the sun sets. Once when she was a child her father Zeus used to have a hand in the illegal wildlife trade but Artemis pushed him to stop. She hassled him, and set some of the poor animals free or contacted the local sanctuaries. Eventually, Zeus gave in.

Ares

Ares is Zeus and Hera’s favourite son, being one of the few legitimate children the two of them have. He is likely going to be Zeus’s heir but there is no confirmation. However, Ares doesn’t get on with a significant number of his siblings. He gets on remarkably well with Hermes which is something people don’t quite understand. When it comes to his siblings Apollo and Artemis however they have a rather brutal rivalry. Apollo still has a scar on his neck from a fight he had with Ares as a child, and Ares has a scar on his arm where Artemis defended her twin in the same fight. The only sibling he is close to is Athena.

Ares runs the syndicate of hitmen within the crime family, he is blood thirsty and violent by nature. Ever since he was a child he has a strangely stoic disposition which is terrifying alongside his sadism. When working with Hermes his desire to fight and kill works extremely well with Hermes’ talent for tactics and deception. He has many cells of hitmen, and whilst he works closely with Apollo, Artemis, and Hades he is a completely different sect. Hades is who you send if you want someone disposed of quietly, Ares is who you send if you wish to send a message.

The program in which he trains his hitmen is infamously brutal, there are rumours about them sleeping on the cold hard ground in the forest and fighting for the right to eat. These are extremely close to the truth. His harsh methods create an army of soldiers who are bloodthirsty, capable, and mentally scarred. His father fears him, and his mother treats him like a small child who she still coddles. Overwhelmingly so.

Athena

Athena is another of Zeus’s illegitimate children but he ensures everyone knows that she is his favourite. She has, since she was born, been his ‘princess’. This has its positives and negatives in terms of how Athena is treated by Zeus and her siblings. Hera despises her but cannot treat Athena terribly without Zeus being thrown into a rage.

Athena has no official role within the crime family, not wishing to be directly involved but she does work with Ares fairly frequently. She never commits murder herself, she despises blood and guns. That being said, she is happy to discuss tactics with Ares, she is as capable as Hermes in strategy without the experience or gift for deception.

Athena is often used when having to send a diplomat to other crime families, particularly if there is conflict between the groups. She is charming, intelligent, persuasive, and is particularly adept at what others call ‘conversational warfare’. She is also sent to investigate and supervise members of the family abroad meaning she’s extremely well travelled. It also means she’s the most knowledgable about the family as a whole.

Aphrodite

Aphrodite is another of Zeus’s illegitimate children, she is one of the few who was actually raised by her mother Dione. As a result her relationship with Hera is not quite as negative and traumatic as a lot of her half siblings due to them not spending as much time together. Dione was a high end, and extremely expensive sex worker in the brothel that would later be inherited by Dionysus. Zeus threw lots of money in her direction whilst Aphrodite was growing up and went to see her a few times a year as she grew up.

Aphrodite is the most expensive and talented sex worker at Dionysus’s brothel and she is often given the task of helping the younger, and newer, workers settle in and showing them the ropes. She often has a lot of conflict with Dionysus, he is happy to grope and abuse whoever he likes in order to have as much pleasure as possible where as Aphrodite wishes to protect those who work for them.

Aphrodite had a difficult and complicated relationship with her step brother Hephaestus, one of Hera’s illegitimate sons. He is the weapon salesman of the crime family, and he and Aphrodite met when they were children. They have a on/off relationship, it has a tendency to be explosive and dysfunctional when they are together. There are a lot of rumours about Aphrodite and her lovers, and they are often about her with her half-siblings.

[pleasestopthat]

Twin Island(?) Part 0/?

So kind of a love island setup but with twins but they're not related so they can also -- it's not as weird as it sounds let me explain.

Thinking about that marvel show Loki (spoilers btw I guess) was making me think about how often that would really happen -- someone being into the sex-reversed version of their own self. It's something people talk about, and I think it's funny, and the sims 4 is a funny game so I wasted the better part of my evening setting this whole thing up instead of pursuing anything remotely productive.

Let's meet the cast. Most of the names are randomly generated, I think I might have just typed in one or two last names that I had in my head for whatever reason, but none of the first names. Likes and dislikes were also randomly generated, because they shouldn't be the exact same people -- and no way I was gonna go manually copy likes and dislikes when I'm just returning to a game I haven't touched in years.

I know shows like love island usually have more contestants. At least I think they do, but that was too much for my brain. (This is a running theme.)

With the gang out of the way, I tried building a house. Keyword: Tried. I'm rubbish at building in this game -- in most games, actually.

So after about forty minutes in build mode yielded me only this much

I decided to bin it and just download a love island map from the gallery made by kerplunk107. (Made the map, not the entire gallery, that was electronic arts.) Initially, I tried placing it on the same lot, but the yard with all the stuff out front was half submerged, and my attempts to rotate it the other way rendered it the front door on the water and thus inaccessible, which I thought was cool. (not really)

I then had my sims move to another lot where I tried to place it down -- but that lot was also on the water and I experienced the same problem. I forgot to screenshot both times, but it looked pretty funny when it was submerged, so just trust me on that one.

Anyway, I finally found a lot and put the house down, everything was in order and we seemed good to go

Until I realized. I'd neglected the most important part of it all -- the one element needed to keep the entire production moving.

Now, usually these shows have hosts, right? Love Island has Laura Whitmore, Bachelor in Paradise has (for some fucking reason) David Spade. (But he seems like he's having fun.) Uh, I'm sure The Bachelor/ette also has a host. Anyway, that wasn't the case here, nor do we have a production crew.

So I needed someone

To make sure the boat kept swimming (or whatever)

In lieu of any real staff, I'd decided to contact my top man and send him into the field

This is Peppidge Stanfield. He doesn't fuck around.

The trouble is, as remarkably detailed as the map I downloaded was, it didn't have a place for Mr. Stanfield to work and oversee things. While it's okay for him to be among the contestants during the day because, unlike real-life show producers, he kind of blends in, he still needed an office. He didn't say this to me, but I could tell he was already disappointed at his treatment thus far, so I got to work right away.

We gave him the best tech

A room with a view of the entire island

And maximum comfort

His control tower was ready, and accessibly only through a pet door, which means none of the humans can get up there and tamper with any behind-the-scenes equipment. The most they'll ever see from down where they are, if anything, is Peppidge. Watching.

He was already on the ball, well on his way into the house before my other sims even began walking

CHAPTER 1

There isn't too much that happened here, I'll get to events in my next post if I somehow find the will to continue this/assuming my ADHD allows me to remember it at all. Just some intro stuff to be hashed out.

Immediately upon entering the villa, my sims set a couch on fire.

Twice.

It was actually Corey, one of the supposedly Genius sims, who set it off. So either that's a hoax, or he's up to something. I'm convinced it's the latter. Peppidge came around to see what was going on soon after, and gave everyone a stern lecture after requesting that the cameras be shut off.

While he was taking a nap to de-stress after the whole incident, Aubrey set the couch on fire for a third time.

The pit has since been moved a space away from the couch, and no incidents have occurred. I've spent the past six hours completely neglecting my actual real life, but I will soon maybe possibly return to see which building this trainwreck drives through next.

[chrisryanspeaks]

The Natvral (Kip Berman, former frontman of The Pains of Being Pure at Heart) shares its sophomore album, Summer of No Light, on Dirty Bingo Records. "Carolina" from the album has also been released as the album's fourth single: "Sometimes I come at an idea I’ve written about a while back, but it seems the model has shifted their pose, or the light has changed. “Carolina” is one such song. Its subject is, more or less, the same as “The Tenure Itch.” That older song was fixated on the more prurient elements, and if it seemed a bit arch or judgmental, it’s not exactly covering its eyes either. But in “Carolina” I want to know “what happens after? Are you alright? Am I?” Maybe my concern still isn’t entirely noble, and that’s fine. But something has changed with what I’m after." -Kip Berman Bio: “These songs live somewhere between the climate crisis of 1816, the climate crisis of now, and the climate crisis of the heart,” says Kip Berman. “You might say it’s a gothic record—but the house isn’t haunted. The ghosts moved out years ago, but I still get their mail from time to time." On his second album as The Natvral - a spirited, beautifully observed collection of rough and ready songcraft - the former Pains of Being Pure at Heart frontperson was eyeing the past while dealing with an inescapable present. In 2020, in the early stages of lockdown, Berman began writing songs that reflected on a world that had seemingly ended – while contending with the needs of his young family seeking solace in the familiar. “After putting my children to bed, I spent many a late night in the basement with my guitar and let my mind wander to the places where I could no longer go,” he says. “Initially, a lot of the songs were about getting as far away from the reality of my moment as possible.” He drew parallels with another tumultuous summer. “The record’s title, Summer of No Light, is taken from the climate crisis of 1816,” he says. Often referred to as The Year Without a Summer, that year a massive volcanic eruption in Indonesia darkened much of the world’s sky. The resulting ash brought dramatic global cooling and widespread famine, hitting Western Europe especially hard. But it was during the present climate crisis – this one very much of humanity’s design – that he began to think about the people who were holed up during those times while creating their own form of escapist art. “Mary Shelley's Frankenstein was written that same summer,” he says. “Like me, she was among the relatively fortunate who could take shelter,” famously riding out the foul weather in Switzerland on Lake Geneva with her lover Percy Shelley, Lord Byron, and Claire Clairmont (Mary’s half-sister and Byron’s paramour) embarking on a ghost story contest (she won), as well as many less cerebral ways to pass the time. “I found the idea of these people sustaining themselves through art, while fucking and getting fucked up, both familiar and foreign. Faced with the endless rituals and work reproducing some normalcy and joy for two small children (then just 18 months and 4 years) when even the sandbox, slides, and swings were cordoned off with police tape, Berman’s imagination began to stretch out even further in the few moments he had to himself. “Maybe I was embarking on a few ghost stories myself,” he says. “Indulging in a kind of gothic fantasy of tragic loves and lost friends while a more banal specter loomed on milk cartons, suburban playground equipment, and the very breath of conversation.” But Berman is quick to make clear that his labors weren’t solitary or even notable, but in tandem with his partner. “Don’t feel bad for me, my wife pulled long days working from home – and still found time to be present for all of us.” While he initially sought escape from the isolation in which he found himself, soon the solace of home and family life began to seep its way into the music “The routines of domesticity were often unwelcome, and always exhausting - but probably mentally helpful. I was isolated, but not alone.” Despite the many graveyard romps that populate the record, it’s the moments that celebrate home that gives this album its heart. For a record written in a time of enormous constraint, Summer of No Light sounds defiantly free. The opening “Lucifer’s Glory” has the kind of punchy, rousing, almost triumphant chorus that Springsteen himself would envy; while “Summer of Hell” charges along infectiously, with its melodic refrain conjuring exultant feelings in stark opposition to a spurned lover who can “write it down for somedays that you know will never come.” For every song about death or absence – that loss isn’t for nought. “Those unwelcome experiences give us the ability to see the shape of what life is more fully.” As he sings on “Lucifer’s Glory,” “It’s the kind of loss you don’t live without.” Look past the more lurid paeans to tragic figures and lost time, and you’ll find another side of the record that is unabashedly domestic. “Your Temperate Ways” sings of a lover who is as keen to make the bed as sully it. Even the nod to The Book of the Dead in “Wait for Me” (I’ve got money ‘neath my tongue, if that’s what you require) is as much about what is needed to be loved and accepted in this world as the next. Ditto “A Glass of Laughter,” that captures the allure and limits of a lover who, “could not buy you winter gloves, but always took your hand.” On album closer, “Wintergreen,” Berman’s dialogue between his own history and the present is at its most potent, as he reflects back on the tumultuous early stages of his relationship with his now wife. “When I found you in the snowbank, never wanting to come home – I knew you were the one I’d die with, I think I’d die for you to know.” he sings. “I’m far from a teenage runaway beholden to only my art and pleasure,” he says, once again looping back to Shelley. “And though there are moments where that sounds tempting, this music would not exist if I were.” The immediacy that radiates from the record is due, in no small part, to the fact that it was recorded mostly live in one week with Berman’s long-time collaborator Andy Savours (Black Country New Road, My Bloody Valentine, The Pains of Being Pure at Heart) in London. “I was listening to a bunch of Silver Jews, Neil Young, Karen Dalton, Leonard Cohen, and Ezra Furman – the kind of singers that strained to see into the dimly lit moments of life.” “The way we recorded it felt very much in step with the hope I had when I started this project,” he says. “Which was: I just want to pick up my guitar and sing – whether it’s by myself or with a band, whether it’s for a handful of friends in a basement or something more. Andy, to his credit, never let me deviate from that ideal.” Summer of No Light is an album that’s born of a precise moment, yet revels in anachronism. Collapsing time to make a little bit of sense of this one, Berman feels artistically rejuvenated, drawing on histories large and small to breathe new life and perspective on his own. “It was a time that is now almost unspeakable – not because the tragedy was too profound or in any way trivial – but because we were all there.” TOUR DATES Sept. 2 - Philadelphia, PA - Main Street Music # (4:00 PM) Sept. 6 - Washington, DC - Comet Ping Pong ^ Sept. 7 - Raleigh, NC - Terrorbird Hopscotch Day Party at Slim’s Sept. 8 - Phoenixville, PA - The Record Shop Sept. 9 - Princeton, NJ - Princeton Record exchange (4:00 pm) Sept. 12 - Brooklyn, NY - Purgatory @ Sept. 14 - Jersey City, NJ - Pet Shop $ # w/ The Tisburys ^ w/ Quintron + Miss Pussycat @ w/ Lightheaded, Jane Herships $ w/ Joy Cleaner, Desir Decir Read the full article

[audiofuzz]

The Natvral (Kip Berman, former frontman of The Pains of Being Pure at Heart) shares its sophomore album, Summer of No Light, on Dirty Bingo Records. "Carolina" from the album has also been released as the album's fourth single: "Sometimes I come at an idea I’ve written about a while back, but it seems the model has shifted their pose, or the light has changed. “Carolina” is one such song. Its subject is, more or less, the same as “The Tenure Itch.” That older song was fixated on the more prurient elements, and if it seemed a bit arch or judgmental, it’s not exactly covering its eyes either. But in “Carolina” I want to know “what happens after? Are you alright? Am I?” Maybe my concern still isn’t entirely noble, and that’s fine. But something has changed with what I’m after." -Kip Berman Bio: “These songs live somewhere between the climate crisis of 1816, the climate crisis of now, and the climate crisis of the heart,” says Kip Berman. “You might say it’s a gothic record—but the house isn’t haunted. The ghosts moved out years ago, but I still get their mail from time to time." On his second album as The Natvral - a spirited, beautifully observed collection of rough and ready songcraft - the former Pains of Being Pure at Heart frontperson was eyeing the past while dealing with an inescapable present. In 2020, in the early stages of lockdown, Berman began writing songs that reflected on a world that had seemingly ended – while contending with the needs of his young family seeking solace in the familiar. “After putting my children to bed, I spent many a late night in the basement with my guitar and let my mind wander to the places where I could no longer go,” he says. “Initially, a lot of the songs were about getting as far away from the reality of my moment as possible.” He drew parallels with another tumultuous summer. “The record’s title, Summer of No Light, is taken from the climate crisis of 1816,” he says. Often referred to as The Year Without a Summer, that year a massive volcanic eruption in Indonesia darkened much of the world’s sky. The resulting ash brought dramatic global cooling and widespread famine, hitting Western Europe especially hard. But it was during the present climate crisis – this one very much of humanity’s design – that he began to think about the people who were holed up during those times while creating their own form of escapist art. “Mary Shelley's Frankenstein was written that same summer,” he says. “Like me, she was among the relatively fortunate who could take shelter,” famously riding out the foul weather in Switzerland on Lake Geneva with her lover Percy Shelley, Lord Byron, and Claire Clairmont (Mary’s half-sister and Byron’s paramour) embarking on a ghost story contest (she won), as well as many less cerebral ways to pass the time. “I found the idea of these people sustaining themselves through art, while fucking and getting fucked up, both familiar and foreign. Faced with the endless rituals and work reproducing some normalcy and joy for two small children (then just 18 months and 4 years) when even the sandbox, slides, and swings were cordoned off with police tape, Berman’s imagination began to stretch out even further in the few moments he had to himself. “Maybe I was embarking on a few ghost stories myself,” he says. “Indulging in a kind of gothic fantasy of tragic loves and lost friends while a more banal specter loomed on milk cartons, suburban playground equipment, and the very breath of conversation.” But Berman is quick to make clear that his labors weren’t solitary or even notable, but in tandem with his partner. “Don’t feel bad for me, my wife pulled long days working from home – and still found time to be present for all of us.” While he initially sought escape from the isolation in which he found himself, soon the solace of home and family life began to seep its way into the music “The routines of domesticity were often unwelcome, and always exhausting - but probably mentally helpful. I was isolated, but not alone.” Despite the many graveyard romps that populate the record, it’s the moments that celebrate home that gives this album its heart. For a record written in a time of enormous constraint, Summer of No Light sounds defiantly free. The opening “Lucifer’s Glory” has the kind of punchy, rousing, almost triumphant chorus that Springsteen himself would envy; while “Summer of Hell” charges along infectiously, with its melodic refrain conjuring exultant feelings in stark opposition to a spurned lover who can “write it down for somedays that you know will never come.” For every song about death or absence – that loss isn’t for nought. “Those unwelcome experiences give us the ability to see the shape of what life is more fully.” As he sings on “Lucifer’s Glory,” “It’s the kind of loss you don’t live without.” Look past the more lurid paeans to tragic figures and lost time, and you’ll find another side of the record that is unabashedly domestic. “Your Temperate Ways” sings of a lover who is as keen to make the bed as sully it. Even the nod to The Book of the Dead in “Wait for Me” (I’ve got money ‘neath my tongue, if that’s what you require) is as much about what is needed to be loved and accepted in this world as the next. Ditto “A Glass of Laughter,” that captures the allure and limits of a lover who, “could not buy you winter gloves, but always took your hand.” On album closer, “Wintergreen,” Berman’s dialogue between his own history and the present is at its most potent, as he reflects back on the tumultuous early stages of his relationship with his now wife. “When I found you in the snowbank, never wanting to come home – I knew you were the one I’d die with, I think I’d die for you to know.” he sings. “I’m far from a teenage runaway beholden to only my art and pleasure,” he says, once again looping back to Shelley. “And though there are moments where that sounds tempting, this music would not exist if I were.” The immediacy that radiates from the record is due, in no small part, to the fact that it was recorded mostly live in one week with Berman’s long-time collaborator Andy Savours (Black Country New Road, My Bloody Valentine, The Pains of Being Pure at Heart) in London. “I was listening to a bunch of Silver Jews, Neil Young, Karen Dalton, Leonard Cohen, and Ezra Furman – the kind of singers that strained to see into the dimly lit moments of life.” “The way we recorded it felt very much in step with the hope I had when I started this project,” he says. “Which was: I just want to pick up my guitar and sing – whether it’s by myself or with a band, whether it’s for a handful of friends in a basement or something more. Andy, to his credit, never let me deviate from that ideal.” Summer of No Light is an album that’s born of a precise moment, yet revels in anachronism. Collapsing time to make a little bit of sense of this one, Berman feels artistically rejuvenated, drawing on histories large and small to breathe new life and perspective on his own. “It was a time that is now almost unspeakable – not because the tragedy was too profound or in any way trivial – but because we were all there.” TOUR DATES Sept. 2 - Philadelphia, PA - Main Street Music # (4:00 PM) Sept. 6 - Washington, DC - Comet Ping Pong ^ Sept. 7 - Raleigh, NC - Terrorbird Hopscotch Day Party at Slim’s Sept. 8 - Phoenixville, PA - The Record Shop Sept. 9 - Princeton, NJ - Princeton Record exchange (4:00 pm) Sept. 12 - Brooklyn, NY - Purgatory @ Sept. 14 - Jersey City, NJ - Pet Shop $ # w/ The Tisburys ^ w/ Quintron + Miss Pussycat @ w/ Lightheaded, Jane Herships $ w/ Joy Cleaner, Desir Decir Read the full article

[djarinsbeskar]

Foul - Boxer!Din AU

Definition - To break one of boxing’s rules (i.e. hitting an opponent below the navel, ear or while they are down), which can ultimately lead to point deductions if they are repeated.

A/N: The results of my Boxer!AU poll told me that the majority were interested in a jealous/protective boxer so I hope I have delivered! As always, relaxed fit = unedited, no beta. We also have a sneaky introduction to Paz in the Boxer verse which is super exciting! His concept art has been completed by the insanely talented @ronnieiswriting when I said I saw a mix of Jason Momoa and Winston Duke as our heavy. PLEASE heed the warnings in this chapter. There is nothing explicit but the topics hinted at might be triggering.

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! (unprotected sex), blood and violence, toxic masculinity and derogatory speech, hints at discussions of non-con, somewhat possessive behavior, spanking, dom!Din and everything that comes with it.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

He might as well have been in hell. A colosseum of decaying humanity and dirt floors that erupted in a burst of dust like poisonous ash every time his next opponent fell. The hollow thump of pure muscle meeting the ground of the makeshift ring only drowned by the cheers of spectators. Masked, shadowed—unseen as they dropped hundreds – thousands sometimes – on which gladiator would remain standing in the end.

He felt like a king, a god among men within the confines of his realm of rope and canvas. It was easy to forget—standing under the spotlights that highlighted the sweat and blood and sculpted beauty of primal masculinity that it was a hollow victory any time he fought in the seedy underground rings of Akiva.

Every gladiator was a slave. Even the victor.

Why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to let you come to one of these fights?

“Enough!”

Paz’s unassailable strength banded around Din’s chest, pinning his arms to his side—attempting to contain lightning in a glass jar. Sweat, blood—it all dripped into Din’s eyes as he growled at his opponent, passed out in the middle of the dirt ring—face swollen and puffy from Din’s fists.

Laser focus and animosity spilled from charcoal eyes as he tried to break free of his friends hold with a vicious yank forward of powerful shoulder and an unfaltering purpose. The bastard had it coming. One round a few punches wasn’t enough to slake Din’s anger, the fumes of rage seeping into his skin and clouding his senses until all he could think of was making the asshole on the ground before him pay.

The practiced speed that Din wrapped his hands slowed at the rowdy group on the other side of the room. Dammit, for all the money they brought in, could these cheapskates not provide separate fucking changing rooms so he didn’t have to be subjected to idiots jacking themselves up on testosterone and false hope?

But pissing contests and fragile masculinity weren’t what caught his attention. He could tune that bullshit out like a fine art. What caught Din’s attention was the obvious death wish one of his possible opponents had – if he even managed to get that far up the ranks to Din – when he waved a red flag in front of the boxers’ metaphorical bull.

“See that one in the front row? You know the one I’m talking about.”

Bawdy agreements and asinine gestures raked up Din’s spine, thorny—and prickling nerves of instinct that made him pause the music blaring in his ears. He fucking hated the scum he came across in these fights. Gang members, criminals—the dredges of humanity he sometimes worried he was part of.

“Gonna get her on her knees choking on my cock before the night is out. Sluts like that love titles, champions—why else do they attend? Good excuse to win tonight, eh fellas?”

“Do you wanna completely destroy your career?” Paz yelled over the chortles and raucous cheers for more, for revenge—for everything under the poor fallacy of a sun that strung in dim, bald bulbs along the notoriously infamous Avika fighting ring.

Din thought you would be safe, arrogantly assuming people would avoid even looking at you once they saw who you were with. And you had been—you were safe, but even he couldn’t protect you from the thoughts of others.

The larger man struggled with him, dragging him out of the ring when it was obvious his words were falling on deaf ears. All Din could hear was the little pricks voice in his head from hours before.

Din stood.

Inhaled, exhaled—tried those bullshit breathing exercises that were supposed to focus his mind before a fight. Help to rein in a temper like his from overflowing in devastating tidal waves to destroy all around him. Din didn’t lose his temper often—but when he did, it was lethal.

The breathing exercises didn’t work.

Because the idiot kept talking.

“Did you see the ass on that?”

Leers sounded from his group of friends. Encouraging the vile words that Din always knew came from a man who felt entitled to a woman’s body. He had seen enough of the underbelly of the world to know what that led to time and again. Din might have been shameless in his youth and even until recently when it came to sex, to one night stands, to women—but he fucking respected the girls he fucked or didn’t fuck.

“Traipsing around in a dress like that? She’s looking for the attention,” the asshole defended himself when one of his party voiced an alternative point of view. They were promptly shut down and didn’t speak again.

Din’s blood turned to ice. An image of you running a hand down his arm on your way to your seat when you parted ways for him to get ready, dress sinfully tight but effortlessly classy—a zip front he was dying to pull open with his teeth later that night.

“It’ll look so good with my cock buried in it…”

The ice in his blood turned to fury, white hot and molten as he tied off the tape at his wrists—throwing the roll into the dingy locker he had been given for the evening. The clatter of noise from where it slammed against the metal back was the only warning he was planning on giving them. The lull of conversation was fleeting, his warning going unheeded—when dim-witted morons didn’t read the murder in his gaze.

Looks like they weren’t nearly as intelligent as the pigs he thought them to be.

Grabbing his water bottle and phone, Din stalked towards the chipped door—distracting himself with a text of “don’t go anywhere alone in this place, sweetheart. Ask Paz to go with you” sent to you without a second thought.

The immediate response of “Yes yes I know, for the thousandth time. Don’t worry and focus on yourself” did little to assuage the roar of blood in his ears. There was only one thing he heard over the noise, one thing as his vision became hued in red and fixated on a single target.

“Wonder if she’ll let me fuck her there too—can’t imagine she’s a virgin but her ass will still probably be tighter than her cunt.”

Bald headed and littered in scars and tattoos of a gang known for their viciousness, the other boxer – if he could even be called that – thrust vulgarly into the air, mimicking the hold he would have on the girl. Din’s girl.

The fucker had a death wish.

And Din was only too happy to play the part of the grim reaper.

His friends voice hardly registered over that same ringing in his ears, the roar of protective aggression at the lecherous sneer on the other man’s face who now lay in a heap in the dirt, the filth he spewed about his masseuse, his girl. How beady eyes, cold and villainous dared to drift away from Din before the bell sounded—over his shoulder, to where he knew you were sitting. Knowing your body had been tainted by the gaze of a man who would sooner take what he wanted from you by force than look at you with anything akin to the respect you deserved—it made something snap inside of Din.

And he attacked.

He was lucky he had only been disqualified.

He was damn lucky no one called the cops.

But the perks of underground fighting, was that everyone who attended had something to hide. And no one wanted to be caught in the middle of shady transactions or betting on fighters to beat each other to a pulp. Hell, the savagery Din subjected the other guy to was exactly what half the fuckers who showed up hoped to see.

Din wasn’t just a nameless street fighter though, not anymore. He had something to lose. Any smear on his record for assault and he would be suspended from tournament participation quicker than the asshole’s body dropped after a crushing blow under the jaw by Din’s right uppercut.

Thank fuck Din’s main sponsor was equally as shady. A good man by Din’s logic, but merciless when it came to succeeding. Din being benched was the surest way to make his benefactors patience run out. No, Paz was right—Boba even more so when he clocked Din good in the cheek after Paz wrestled the irate male out of the ring.

“You fucking idiot, bloodlust is an ugly image, boy—”

“I am not a boy—” Din snapped at Boba, teeth bared and bloody from his split lip, neck straining when he spat the words viciously at his long-time coach. He ran his tongue over the metallic tang of blood before spitting it out of his mouth onto the dirt flooring by the chaotic rows of metal seating.

“You almost killed a guy in the ring, you little shit,” Boba snarled with equal venom, matching the anger reflected in Din’s gaze with furious sense Din didn’t want to witness.

“Let me go,” was all Din growled, eyes never leaving his coach’s even when Paz loosened his arms around his chest. Heaving, coal black eyes darkened dangerously and stabbed the former boxer with a dare to try and restrain him again. The other man shook a rope of dreadlock that had come loose from the strip of leather he kept his hair tied in and made to say something when Din interrupted,

“Where is she?”

Paz closed his mouth, heavy brows furrowing over his eyes as recognition dawned in their dark hues,

“Is that what this is about? Dammit, vod—it’s not like she’s your girlfriend, isn’t that what you always say?”

“Don’t fucking try me tonight—” Din snapped aggressively, the threatening hum between the two men charged to dangerous voltage.

“Din?”

Your voice washed over him – aloe on the burns his fury had scorched his skin with – and he was making his way over to you in the next moment, mind battling with instinct as he ignored the calls and curses of his friends.

Mine.

Not yours—

Mine.

He moved with feral grace, parting the sea of people who bleated from the sidelines but cowered in his presence once his attention was facing them and there was no canvas or rope to separate boxer from spectator. They were lucky. He didn’t see them. Would step on them if they were stupid enough to stay in his path. All he could see, was you—watching him with confusion and concern marring those pretty features, absent of fear in the face of an incensed, adrenaline fueled boxer post fight.

He exhaled a growl as he came to stand before you, the sound cavernous and deep in his chest—the hands you had lifted to examine his face intercepted by his own when he grabbed them. His fingers wrapped fully around your wrists, and he was reminded of how fragile you were – even if you worked out whenever you could and had a will of iron that would make you whack him for saying that – and just how easily a man like him, any of the fighters here tonight—could hurt you.

Never.

They wouldn’t dare.

Not with him around.

But how could they know?

How would they know to stay the fuck away from you?

Knuckles stained with dirt and blood; his hand rasped against the softness of your palm as he dragged you in the direction of the unused backstage waiting room fighters had been offered as a changing room. Where this whole fucking thing started.

“Din—Din, what the hell happened up there?”

You jogged behind him to keep up with his pace, long legs taking him farther than your shorter ones could when confined to the heels you had worn for the night out. He stalked through the dimly lit corridors to the flaky, chipped door with a temporary sign on lined paper with “ATHLETES” scrawled along the front of it like some ironic joke.

He almost bent the worn, cheap metal handle in half—nearly pulled it from its socket with how hard he tore the door open and dragged you over the threshold inside.

You whirled on him with a huff, eyes flashing and hands planting on your hips in growing annoyance.

“Din will you just—”

You didn’t get another word out.

His wrapped hands cupped your cheeks between them, his mouth on yours hungrily when he bent over you. Biting, clawing, desperate—the kiss was more a battle of tongue and teeth than anything else. There was nothing soft, nothing slow or affectionate about the way his teeth sank into your bottom lip so hard you gasped. The way the blood seeping from his split lip painted yours in a crimson rouge—smeared and varnishing you in a visceral mark of his claim.

“Mine,” he snarled unknowingly into your mouth, lapping his tongue along the prairies of your tastebuds, plundering the depths of your mouth to brand every inch of you he could reach. Inside and out. His hands had the same idea, forming down over the shape of your curves as he walked you back blindly to the disused vanity pushed against the closest wall. Topped with a row of mirrors undoubtedly used by performers for whatever this place had once been used for, the glass was now aged with discoloration.

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t have eyes for anything but you as he hiked your legs up to perch you on the edge, your fingers curled into the taut muscles at his neck and clawing down over the sweat slick muscles of his pecs—catching on flat nipples that made ripples of pleasure heat his body further. Mad him tangle a hand in your hair, yank your head back harshly and meet your eyes with dark desire before dropping to your neck. His newest target.

“Din…” your irritated, questioning tone had morphed to fervent sighs. His tongue mapped a trail from the corner of your mouth – tasting the tang of his own blood – to the rapid tattoo of your pulse, a delicate sheen of perspiration beginning to shimmer on your flushed skin from the arousal. Another layer of flavor for him to get drunk on.

So fucking hot under his hands.

So beautiful.

So his.

“Mine,” he repeated into the curve of your neck, framed by tremulous stretches of muscle either side that he carved with scrapes of his teeth to leave tracks of slow fading pink grazes before he bit into it. Your legs – already open and inviting him to settle between them – crossed at the ankles around his narrow hips to keep him close. It was fucking intoxicating the way he could make you feel, the desperate need he had for you.

Months of sleeping together, of knowing his body so intimately had given you a rare insight to his emotions whether he knew it or not. And you knew he didn’t need to talk right now, he needed to fuck. To work through whatever had affected him so badly in hard kisses and rough hands on your soft flesh. It didn’t stop your stomach from flipping at his possessive words though, deliriously spoken but whispering the unacknowledged desires you had for him beyond his body.

“Yours,” you admitted before you could stop yourself, your hand cupping under his jaw to lift his mouth back to yours. His raspy moan at your agreement turned positively filthy when you carded short nails through his damp hair. Din was weak to having his hair stroked, his staunch dominance buckling in violent shivers of pleasure when you dragged those skilled fingers down the back of his skull and neck.

Traipsing around in a dress like that…

His eyes flew open, and he broke the kiss—ripped his mouth from yours to press his forehead to yours, eyes searching while his free hand ran indulgently up your torso to the neckline of your dress,

“Never let anyone disrespect you, sweetheart—” he rumbled, his fingers already undoing the zip of the dress, the nude pink material tempting to the eye and celebrating those features you were most proud of—that he found irresistible to know you loved. That someone could make you uncomfortable in those clothes… fucker. He snarled and pressed a long kiss to your mouth, large hands spreading the sides of the dress open wide – no underwear, baby? – and shucked the material down your arms to leave you bare before him.

His appreciation for your body – fucking gorgeous – was only tampered by the frustration he had with himself at the noise of confusion you made at his words. Of course, you hadn’t heard anything that asshole had said thankfully—but fuck, he couldn’t get it out of his head. You read his desperation somehow, and nodded slowly with puzzled eyes, teeth sinking into your swollen bottom lip as you leaned back on your hands.

So trusting…

Fuck.

It made alarm and something akin to fear rise swell uncomfortably in his throat.

He tried again.

“Never let anyone take advantage of you,” he whispered against your mouth in earnest, his hands running up your bare thighs to press his thumbs into the seams of your legs and hips, “tell me—”

His mouth dropped to your collarbone, funneling those feelings into lapping down to your heaving breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a groan and befuddling your mind to his request until he nipped the swollen peak – say it, baby – and caused your head to fall back against the mirror,

“Yes—yes,” you moaned, “I won’t—”

He snarled internally, dammit. Hearing you say it didn’t help. He wanted to say how he wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you, how he wouldn’t let anyone ever take advantage of you. But he couldn’t. Had to frame it like advice he would give any woman he knew instead of speaking it like the promise he wanted to make.

Din had been fucking you for the last few months now, exclusively after only a few months—but it never went beyond that. He had no reason, no excuse to be worried over your life or safety or what you did when you weren’t in his bed. He wasn’t expected to be involved in your life the way a friend or family member was. Not the way a boyfriend was.

He didn’t do relationships. Never had. Too much trouble and frankly—he liked his privacy, his space—and liked not being accountable to anyone but himself. The consequences of any shitty decisions he made would fall on him and him alone. If he demanded that of the women he slept with and then insisted on inserting himself into their lives in the next breath, he would be a hypocrite. And Din hated hypocrites.

He couldn’t.

But fuck. He never wanted to hear someone speak that way about you, never wanted them to think they had the slightest chance with a woman like you. His blood boiled at the notion of someone else’s hands on you, his tempered flared when he imagined your pleasure or smiles, or laughter give to someone who didn’t deserve you.

Like he did?

Fuck no, he knew he didn’t.

He never said he wasn’t selfish though, and he coveted you with sinful greed.

“Fuck me, baby—please, please—” you mewled into his neck as your hands that had started all of this with that first massage, fit into the sliver of space between your bodies to stroke along his cock over his shorts impatiently. His head fell back, and his mind blissfully emptied for a moment, grunting your name at the frisson of pleasure before those damned memories resurfaced again.

Look at the ass on that.

That.

Her. You weren’t a thing, a possession. You were—

He snarled. Misplaced anger manifesting in aggressive passion as he grabbed your wrist from where you stroked him to pin behind your back on the vanity.

“Always so eager, aren’t you—” he grinned darkly when you nodded, “turn around.”

The command was delivered low and dangerous, more a rumble of noise—deep echoes of jungle predators crackling like the kindling of threat, inspiring awareness that one wrong move would be fatal. But you never made a wrong move—not for as long as he had known you. Whether it was alleviating a pain deep in his muscles that had bothered him for months or pushing yourself slowing off the vanity to your feet as you were now—you always knew what he needed.

Wisps of hair fell into his eyes as he watched you—the decided turn of your naked body to dace the mirror—eyes never leaving his even as they caught them again in the aged glass. Bending forward, your ass pressed into the front of his shorts, and you rested your elbows on the vanity.

Perfect.

He didn’t realize he had whispered the word as he pressed his mouth between your shoulder blades, tongue trailing down the arch of your spine while his hands kneaded plush cheeks—spreading them and exposing your slick cunt to the cool air. The hitches in your breath, small squirms of your hips for relief—they all fed into his desire for you.

And he desired you. Constantly.

“I’m gonna eat your pussy until you can’t stand, baby—and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t speak,” he muttered against the shell of your ear, massive bulk bowed over your back and shadowed eyes – the duality of warm walnut and lethal obsidian – bore into yours through the glass.

“I want them all to know who you belong to,” he nipped your ear, flicking his tongue along the cartilage—the black ink on his back catching the light as his muscles rippled with movement, a roll of pleasure from your ass grinding back against him with a whimper of his name, “so don’t be quiet this time, sweetheart.”

Your eyes fluttered open molasses slow from where they had dropped closed at his words,

“What—what hap—” you tried to turn your head, the concern mingled with lust in those gorgeous, honest eyes making warning bells blare painfully – too close – and he silenced you with a kiss. Swallowing the worry that hinted at feelings that surpassed those expected from a fuck buddy, he buried it deep inside himself, in the shadows like a coward. To be locked away where he would remain safe from it.

Your tongue grew sloppy with a moan when he ground his crotch into your ass—dragging the solid thickness of his clothed cock between your soaked folds and up against your tight rear entrance.

Wonder if she’ll let me take her there…

Bastard.

He sucked on your tongue with a groan of your name, hand releasing your cheeks to fan up your ribcage and cup your breasts. You jerked in sensitivity when rough hands pinched sore nipples – he fucking loved how sensitive your tits got just before your period. The cry you released was nothing short of musical, tempting him lower as he kissed down your spine—wrapped hands sanding down over your ribs again when he lapped around the rim of your ass, circling it before he traced lower.

You were dripping.

He dropped to his knees behind you, eyes drunken with an ingrained pride that he was the one in this position, looking at the petals of your swollen pussy glistening with arousal he inspired from just a few kisses and rolls of his hips. He kept his eyes on the steady trickle of wetness from your twitching entrance, his teeth grazing distractedly down the back of your thigh as he did so.

A finger ruddy with flecks of dried blood caught a string of your arousal – don’t waste a drop – and he sucked it between his lips with an approving groan, the noise of your whimpers the perfect accompaniment. Blood and lust. The essence of humanity, that was what he tasted when he sucked his finger clean. It tasted like life. And he wanted more.

A sharp crack echoed through the room when his hand came down hard on one cheek, and again... and again—each strike making that dripping wetness gush until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He buried his face in your cunt, nosing at your entrance and tongue spreading puffy lips apart so he could trace in pitter patter swipes through your folds—greedily gathering anything he could get on his tongue before swallowing. Dehydrated on the sands of depravity and sordid company—your cunt was an oasis of relief where he eagerly drank his fill.

You tried to move, your hips slamming up against the edge of the vanity – that’ll bruise – and you keened with a shuddering cry when his mouth simply followed your attempt to escape the onslaught of pleasure that was too much too soon.

“Fuck—fuckfuckfuck—” you gasped, dropping a hand back to tangle in his hair, dragging him closer despite your protests. Mm, he loved when you got like this—overstimulated from the first touch. No matter how much you whined, no matter how many times he wiped tears that smudged your makeup when he unraveled orgasm after orgasm from the knots inside you—he knew you loved the intensity as much as he did.

He spanked you again – take it – your cheeks red and beautiful when he spread them side for him to spit directly onto your quivering cunt. His saliva dribbled and mixed with your juices to gather over your clit, his mouth forming over the little bud enthusiastically, urged by your slow ruts back against his face to streak his face with your essence.

“More—” you whimpered.

“Greedy—” he growled back.

The sound of your breathless laugh meshed delightfully with the swallow of a moan – guttural and primal – and made his cock twitch in his shorts. His hips snapped up uselessly from where he was kneeling—finding no purchase or warm embrace to bury itself in as his tongue took that pleasure for itself.

It licked and curled with practiced, seemingly illogical strokes along your clit and up to your entrance—sloppily kissing it before his tongue dove into your tight depths, thumb working in quick circles over your clit. He knew exactly what to do to make you come undone.

Your first orgasm was sudden—strong and surprising. He hadn’t even fucking fingered you and you were already spasming around nothing. Your muscles tensed as you went on your toes to lean even further on the vanity, trying to escape his tongue that worked you through each wave—drowning you in the pleasure he knew only he could give you. You were his. His his his his h—

You sobbed his name, a raw answer to his internal mantra his mind struggled against and failed to overcome.

Din wanted you.

He wanted your body, your mind, your time—he wanted what Paz had.

Fuck.

The way the older man mooned and gazed with shameless adoration for the little baker he had fallen for in so short a time. Hell, Din teased him over it constantly. And maybe he didn’t want that—but he wanted something. Din wanted something with you. Wanted you to visit him in the gym and stop him mid set just to kiss him and tell him that you would wait for him to finish so you could go home together. He wanted to buy you flowers without having to think of a fucking excuse like last time to distance himself from the sentimentality. He wanted to open his front door and feel our presence as more than just a visitor. That a toothbrush and the stray pieces of clothing you forgot at his place would turn to shoes at the door and your taste in décor mixing with his.

Din wanted you.

But he had no idea how to do anything but fuck you. He didn’t know how to date or be romantic. Was clueless to things like companionship—to the softer emotions he knew you craved. That all people craved. Din had no idea how to do any of it.

You lay with your cheek on the wooden surface of the vanity, eyes half-closed and spacey as you watched him lift his head from your pussy, face shiny from your release and when he licked over his lips, still hungry for more—you mewled.

“Don’t tap out on me yet, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, a whimper and almost childish refusal while your cheek remained plastered to the vanity, all strength having left your body and an adorable pout trying to lie and tell him you couldn’t take any more.

“Mm, yes you can—” he answered you, dragging his mouth back up your slit and along your tight ass where he lapped at the rim again. Later. It took time for him to stretch you to take his size—it was better left for when he had you in his apartment and could take his time.

His hand followed his mouths direction as it continued up to meet your mouth—smirking against your lips at the whimpers you made from the slaps he gave your pussy—the obscene, wet sound filling the area with each slap slap slap until his hand was damn near slipping every time he struck your cunt from how wet it was.

A bang on the door—a harsh slap to your pussy so you would moan just right for him, and he growled out a threatening “occupied” to whoever was outside. You were too high strung to even notice.

“No one else can have you,” he rasped darkly into your temple, his free hand tangling in the strands to pull your head back against his shoulder—the position no doubt edging on uncomfortable with the way your spine and neck were arched back—moUlded into his hard frame. Your eyes fell to half mast even as your lips parted—still smeared with specks of blood you hadn’t yet licked or chewed off—and he bit your jaw in warning.

“No one else—” you parroted, your hot breath fanning over his cheek even as you rocked back against him, a steel confidence entering your fucked out gaze—mercurial in the swirling heat, “just like no one else can have you.”

The boldness of your words, the conviction spoken in that voice of wooden flutes and bubbling creeks made his blood light with fire—yes. As much as he anted you, he yearned for you to crave him in return.

“No one else,” he repeated your words back to you, rutting his hips against you when his cock pulsed with a negligent ache that demanded to be addressed. He kept one hand in your hair when he pushed his shorts down enough to free his leaking cock, the turgid length swollen and angry as he rubbed the tip between your lips.

Maybe he would buy you flowers tomorrow, after all.

Din gave you no time to prepare yourself – that’s my girl – sliding inside you with one brutal thrust that had you pushed up against the mirror and his cock engulfed in fiery bliss. He felt the heat run up his spine, a volcanic metamorphism into marble as his muscles froze in an immediate pause to stop himself from spilling inside you after one damn thrust.

You weren’t doing much better—one hand clawing for purchase on the mirror and the other digging your nails into his hip as you panted his name, an incoherent string of curses and praise as your sensitive walls convulsed around him. The position had him pressed right against that one spot he cock curved up against that could make you see stars and your care for being caught dissipate in cries of ecstasy.

“Baby—fuck please, so—too deep—” you whimpered in inane babbles, tightening in residual spasms from your orgasm and the sudden intrusion of his cock, still a stretch after all these months. Too deep… he snorted, rolling his hips hard to try shove himself deeper still. He could never get deep enough, always wanting more—always seeking to conquer the untouched lands of your body.

“Mm, want me to stop?” he teased, dragging his hips back with a smirk at your immediate rejection of no no no fuck—please, no—hand pathetically trying to drag him closer to you by the hip. Lovely little thing… thinking you were strong enough.

“That’s better…” he purred, relief washing over him when he pulled out—the walls of your cunt stretching around him, refusing his exit, and trying to keep him nestled inside you. The pace he chose was brutal. He fucked you like he fought tonight. Violently, mercilessly—and deaf to the calls to relent. But where he wanted his opponent to suffer, he wanted to devastate you with pleasure, enrapture you with ecstasy and leave you moaning his name where others would curse it.

Wet cock slapping as he pounded into you in short, frantic ruts – need you baby… fuck I need you – there was no time for you to catch a full breath before he was knocking it out of you again. His fingers had to tighten in your hair to keep you up – your body trembling under his as he sank his teeth into the taut muscle at your neck and his cock sank into your welcome body – exposed and waiting for him to litter in his signature.

He would never get enough of the way his marks looked on your skin—the way you decorated him in yours. You were powerless to do much else than accept them right now – likely getting him back later – boneless and weak under the attack of his mouth and the dominance of his body.

He would make sure everyone in this fucking shithole of a place knew who you were with. They would have to be blind not to notice the blotches of poppy bruises snaking down your neck with the elusion to more hidden from unworthy eyes. The smudge of your mascara as tears pearled like crystals in the corner of your eyes when you glanced at him in strung out bliss.

“M-more—” you begged, dropping one of your hands between your legs to rub at your clit—fingers splitting around the girth of his cock as he fucked you to feel the thick length disappear into you over and over, the soaked mess amassed from your frantic desire for each other trickling down your thighs.

“Yeah?” he grinned, breathless and sweating for much more pleasing reasons than he had been in the ring, a languid kiss to your neck as he hiked one of your knees up onto the vanity—spreading you wider for him to sink deeper.

You spasmed, your head falling back against his shoulder with a cry.

“Yes—there, there baby, fuck you feel so good…” you rambled, fingers working feverishly over your clit in wet strokes, grazing his balls every time they slapped against your skin and making him muffle his moan in your neck.

Rolling a nipple between his fingers, his large—bloodied hand completely swallowed your breast, squeezing it and tickling sounds that belonged to him from you and into his mouth when you kissed him. One last kiss before you collapsed back onto the vanity, and he stood to his full height so he could ruin you with his cock.

His name was the only thing you remembered as he split you open with full, hard thrusts—the entire length of his cock stretching your tight walls around it and playing along raw nerves already on the brink of another orgasm.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart—” he strained, desperate for release as he watched himself fuck you in the mirror—him behind your smaller body, squirming under the pleasure while his muscles bunched and relaxed with each snap of his hips—the veins in his forearms prominent and tendons taut as he poured all that training and dedication and determination into you, into pleasing you.

“Inside—inside, Din fuck, please—”

His mind emptied. Nothing else mattered about tonight—not the fight, not the disqualification, not the rage. Your eyes—cloudy with lust and achingly trusting as you looked back at him were all he could think about. Nodding without even realizing, the thought of filling you running in his mind on a loop.

“Fuck—!”

He wanted you to cum before him, he always did—but he was so high strung, so tense that he couldn’t stop himself, burying himself to the hilt with several punched out moans—exhaled rapture with every pump of his seed against your waiting womb. Your eyes rolled closed at the amount, bloating you with his release and as he came, you worked your clit frantically—chasing that addictive edge you gladly hurled yourself over at just the thought of him coming inside you.

Din dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp, your spasming walls too much on his sensitive length but he had to stay inside—the contractions of pleasure, the gush of your release might push his out. He couldn’t have that. So, he gritted his teeth, mumbled husky praise – good girl, that’s it—just like that, soak me – to work you through your orgasm and pressed open mouth kisses to sweaty skin, the salt tickling his tongue as he caught his breath.

His mouth worked over the sweep of your shoulder, up your neck to your jaw when your orgasm subsided, purring your name and nonsensical strings of words he had no idea made sense or not. He finally eased his softening cock out of you slowly when you shifted your hips—testing your strength and finding it lacking when you realized both he and the vanity were what kept your legs up.

“Feel… feel better?”

“Mhm…” he confirmed noncommittally, nuzzling the marks beginning to bloom and darken like a forbidden garden only he was allowed indulge in the scent of. One of his hands ran absently down the back of your thigh, feeling for his release—pleased to feel nothing but your sticky arousal, his own still nestled inside your sore cunt.

“Want one of those crepes you’re always raving about from that twenty-four hour place?” he purred, helping you stand—going so far as to pull the straps of your dress back up so that zipping the metal teeth would be easier. Your eyes brightened despite the lazy, satiated fatigue hiding in their orbs.

“Gino’s?”

“Mm,” he nodded, looking down from his greater height and lips quirking in an annoying desire to smile when one – bright as daylight – broke out on yours.

You nodded quickly, looping your arms around his neck to drag him down to your mouth, kissing him good and proper while his hands fell under the still open sides of your dress to settle on bare hips,

“Are you ever going to tell me what set you off tonight?” you mumbled against his lips cautiously, the ghost of a smile from the promise of dessert still lingering but a hesitant worry entering your gaze, unsure if his mood would sour again.

It didn’t.

He nudged his nose along yours, aquiline curve slotting along yours as he hummed in thought, thumbs rubbing lazily into your hips,

“Maybe later,” he settled on and captured your lips again.

You left the changing room together, his gym bag slung over one shoulder and his free arm wrapped around your shoulder—nose never leaving your temple or nuzzling into your hair with blatant affection as you blushed at how obvious it was to anyone who saw you what you had been doing.

You had both tried to tidy yourselves—cleaning the corners of your makeup and trying to flatten your mused hair was about all you could do. Din didn’t even attempt to cover the freshly fucked look of messy hair and heavy eyes as he pulled an unzipped Mythosaur Gym hoodie on over his muscle shirt.

A group were passing in the corridor as you asked him something—his former opponent with one eye swollen shut from the bruises forming around his eye, jaw, and cheeks. Din answered you easily, an automatic response to whatever you were asking as his eyes met his opponents, cold fury and arrogant pride flashing in their depths.

You remained none the wiser as you passed the group, Din’s body protectively placed between you and them. He probably should have told you; he knew you wouldn’t be swayed by it—comfortable in your body as you were, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He could protect you from slander and toxicity at the very least—and he planned to. Even if he had to do so in the shadows for now.

For himself, the swelling and bruising on the idiots’ face weren’t the only thing he had to satisfy himself with. He was the one whose cum was still buried inside you, clinging to your thighs and keeping you slick and wet for him to add more to later when he got you back to his place. And as you glanced up at him with a disarming smile after he dropped his hoodie over your shoulders without a thought once you both were outside in the crisp air of the early morning darkness—he secretly hoped that he would be the only one to have that privilege from then on.

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A few who might be interested! @thepoisonofgod @absurdthirst @highsviolets @astroboots​ 

[actualbird]

Oh god!

I really love the poly headcanons they are so sweet.... (or don't but that's part of it and i think the tot boys+MC deserve all the love the world has to give).

But, liking it or not, our 4 beloved boys are kinda complicated (that's what makes them perfect). Plus I never thought about how people get in poly relationships. So i was thinking, how do you think they all get into a polyrelationship together?

(I really have no idea of how that would happen)

hi, two anons!! im glad you guys liked my nxx team polycule stuff!! i'll answer these in one go, my "headcanon" (in quotes because i think this kinda turned into a character analysis/minific of sorts HAHA) being what first anon asked, How They Get Together.

heads up, wc of this is 1.9k words long so buckle up for a bit of a read jfsjdfkjbf

because first anon, youre right!!! the boys are stupendously complicated which i love so so much but canon has also shown us clearly that each of the boys' quirks and habits and tendencies causes a lot of (mostly played for laughs) friction. the bickering, the backhanded insults, the "im the best one here" preening contests. theyre all SOOOO RIDICULOUS and it is hilarious but yep! the boys r complex!! and that means this beautiful ship, imo, has a lot of phases to get to the actual romantic relationship bit.

how they get together, in my opinion, starts because of mc.

not in the sense that she matchmakes them all, but like.

phase 1 of the nxx team polycule is this:

through being in love with her (which we all know the boys 100% are), each of the boys come to terms with their own flaws and weaknesses. it's very apparent to me in all the story thus far that these boys are flawed as hell, it's very compelling but even more compelling to me is how all of them also do intense mental gymnastics to Not Confront Those Flaws. like, marius is a dickbag always teasing and toeing the line of insincerity, vyn is a controlling mf who always tries to sway situations to his benefit, artem is so repressed to the point that he has genuine trouble with emotions, luke is a self sacrificial bastard and also a huge hypocrite about how no, actually, hes the only one that should be hiding his pain and being dishonest, no dishonesty from other people!! in the beginning of the story, all the boys have their flaws and seem to have just kinda...not addressed how those flaws are harming them and the people around them.

and then mc rolls around and they all fall in love with her. and she sees those flaws and she doesnt let them slide. she challenges the boys in her own ways to see another side of the situation, to acknowledge what theyre doing. she doesnt want to get rid of flaws, thats impossible and also not cool. she just has this beautiful hope for like, all of humanity, that goodness can prevail with the right work. so when she sees her beloved nxx boys, she believes that for them as well.

which leads to phase 2 of the nxx team polycule:

the boys, more aware of themselves, become more aware of each other.

they werent Unaware of the others of course. it's just that they didnt like...truly connect on a personal level just yet. they saw the other teammembers with their emotional armor and flaws and saw a wall that wasnt worth looking past.

but after mc makes them realize that hey, flaws arent the end of the world actually, it's alright and the person behind them may just be worth it, the boys like. end up understanding the others. A LOT OF THIS BIT IS UNINTENTIONAL, ON THEIR PARTS KJDSBFS. like they stumble into understanding each other by accident, they didnt plan it, but over the course of nxx investigations, it's inevitable that they end up seeing the depths of the others. i delve into this a little bit in my fanfic "filler eps of the lost gold" where the boys are just going thru their actions and then trip over another boy's fears or desires and through that, gain a deeper understanding mutually.

and with understanding, sometimes, comes trust.

phase 3 of the nxx team polycule goes like this:

everybody in this team, whether they like it or not, whether they know it or not, has a heart that wants to give love so desperately.

marius lives in a world full of snakes so he cant have his heart on his sleeve for his own protection. vyn wants to be seen as perfect and the heart is inherently messy so he holds it back. artem for a very very long time was focused on work and success and achievement that he neglected his heart. and luke has been giving love all his life in a sense but in a way thats hidden.

all these tendencies that are brought upon their life circumstances results in this: they want to love honestly but they havent been able to do this

until mc. and all of them want to push back whatever fears or patterns their life has instilled in them because they see her and see somebody so unwaveringly good that all their hearts begin giving love to her to make her happy and to make themselves happy as well.

but heres the thing. the boys dont just see mc. by this point, they have connected and understood and come to trust each other as well, and the consequence of that is that They Can See Each Other Now Too, Truly.

and heres the thing. all of the boys are unwaveringly good as well.

one by one, each of the boys realize that what they feel for the other boys in the team starts to...change. yeah theyre all friends, they pick on each other a lot of the time, but the bedrock of the relationship is solid and strong now. but when marius is with luke, marius sees a light inside of luke so bright that he seems unaware that he gives off. when artem is with vyn, artem sees a goodness inside of vyn that hesitates to make itself obvious and known because vyn is scared of getting hurt thanks to it. all of them see the other and their goodness and, unbidden, their hearts want to give love to each other as well.

and because theyre all a bit stupid in their own way theyre like, huh, weird! wonder why this feeling is so familiar! and yet i cant seem to name it...and then they all independently compare these feeling with the feelings they have for mc, a feeling they do know the name of, and theyre like.

WAIT.

THESE FEELINGS ARE...VERY BASICALLY EXACTLY WHAT I FEEL FOR MC.

which only means one thing: theyve fallen in love with everybody else

marius: //goes to his studio to Think and sees that a bunch of his recent art actually had little crumbs of these feelings already, etched into the brushstrokes and scenes. has an emotional crisis about it

vyn: //records a 1 hour long entry in his audio diary to examine and gain control of his feelings but by the end of the hour all he knows is that he wants to hold these people and be held by them

artem: //quite literally just bluescreens, artem.exe has stopped working, sits at his study and slowly, slowly, thunks his head down onto his desk, valiantly trying to ignore the fast pulse of his heart

luke: //manically vents about it to peanut who, by virtue of being a bird, doesnt get it. just keeps talking at peanut to get a grasp of it all and then lies down on the floor, overwhelmed

mc, sitting in her apartment watching some netflix: ...why do i inexplicably feel as if something very, very important has just happened?

phase 4 of the nxx team polycule is basically:

pining: extreme difficulty level

because pining is already hard when ur pining for one person. what more for an additional 3 more people. and those additional 3 more people are pining back.

and all these boys are SOOOO OBVIOUS with their romantic feelings, in their own special way. the way they show their affection to mc starts to bleed into their interactions with the others and everybody can CLEARLY SEE WHAT IS GOING ON, LOL, but also all the boys are too chickenshit to confront it, because if they confront it, what will even happen??? being in love with each other, all of them, thats going to be such a complicated fucking relationship, holy shit. it's 2030, yeah, being a polyamorous group relationship isnt completely unheard of, but sue them, theyre scared.

but mc (who i forgot to mention already knows of the boys' romantic feelings for her, shes just hasnt made a move yet on any of them because SHES IN LOVE WITH ALL OF THEM AS WELL and shes been trying to figure out how the hell to make that work, she cant bear to choose just one of them, she'd be heartbroken over leaving the rest of them behind) sees that the nxx investigation team is now all pining for each other FULLY and she kinda wants to laugh when she realizes whats going on because like, what are the chances? that this would happen? that they all found each other and their feelings fell into just the right place for nobody to be left behind?

theyre all scared, she can tell. and she is as well, she wont lie.

but shes always had a belief that goodness can prevail with the right work.

and love is one of the greatest goods out there.

phase 5 of the nxx team polycule:

It's Time For Communication, Baby!!!!!

the exact scenes of how this happens is a bit vague to me. it could go two ways: mc going to each of the boys independently to talk about feelings, hers about everybodys and his about everybodys as well. OR they have a fucking meeting about it all together and artem literally schedules it in his google calendar, or something.

either way, they like, actually talk about this. starts casual, maybe over a chill date, maybe over dinner at a nice restaurant, maybe over a walk in the park as the sun is starting to set. but where ever it happens, the end result is the same: a heart is laid out bare and it is taken in gentle, grateful hands.

marius: OKAY, NOW THAT THE FEELINGS ARE OUT OF THE WAY, CAN I PLEASE KISS ONE OR ALL OF YOU, PLEASE, IVE BEEN WANTING TO KISS U GUYS FOR FOREVER

vyn, laughing fondly: has anybody ever told you patience is a virtue? we quite literally just talked it all out.

marius: //needy whining noises

artem, embarrassed: ive...never kissed anybody before

luke, embarrassed but trying to play it Cool: ....same here

mc: kissing is great, you two will love it!

marius: awesome, awesome, so is ANYBODY going to give me a go ahead or WHAT????

phase 6 of the nxx team polycule:

i dont want to say it's happily ever after, once they all get together. thats not really realistic.

they all have their quirks and tendencies and habits. and those will inevitable clash against each other. theyll have their arguments, theyll get upset, theyll sulk and be angry, sometimes. but also...

theyll see each other smile and feel like their love shining so brightly. theyll reach out for another's hand and be held in such a way that makes them think that their heart is in a safe place. theyll love each other and theyll put in the work to continue loving each other. because goodness will prevail.

and they all see each other as the most good people in the world.

so whatever happens, theyll get through it together.

[christinesficrecs]

hi chrissss, i need your help! i am desperate need of fics w alive hale family! xoxo

Mother’s Day is a great day to talk about Talia Hale! 🌺  Also, seriously, when do I ever rec just a few fics and move on. 🤦🏻‍♀️

Marking Against Instinct by fullmoontonightt | 44.6K | Mature

The guy in front of him is looking around the shop with interest, letting his eyes scan over the flash art on the walls. He's beautiful and Derek's wolf purrs in his chest, wanting to get closer. He frowns when he realizes the guy is human.

Derek faces him, eyes serious. “You know this is a wolves only shop right?”

Alpha Derek Hale has had his wolves only tattoo shop for years. Before Stiles Stilinksi walked in, asking him for help with a tattoo, he'd never thought about how a single tattoo could change his life.

Why don't you say so? | 8K 

Talia Hale has a plan. Derek will go to the Winter Formal and he will ask the Stilinski boy to dance, and they will finally get their heads out of their asses and her son will stop moping around the house in his underwear.

Spoiler: Derek doesn't ask Stiles to dance.

Don’t know how to reach you when you get like this (waiting for you to come home) by dearericbittle (dutchmoxie) | 21.3K

Senator Talia Hale is going to be the first werewolf president. She is also his mother’s best friend, who’s in desperate need of a friendly mage to help her break the curse on her children. Stiles likes a challenge - and the free vacation in DC for his parents.

Lemon & Ginger by kaistrex (weishen) | 2.5K

A new tea shop has opened in Beacon Hills, and Laura drags Derek along so he can try the incredible, memory-evoking drinks for himself. He’s soon going back for more, but is it because of the tea, or the owner?

Accidentally in Love by Scruffy_Wolf | 9.3K | Mature

Derek has spent his summer vacation crushing on the Sheriff's son Stiles Stilinski, mostly from afar, but then when school starts suddenly Stiles is sitting next to him in Chemistry and inviting him around to his place after school.

Derek's not sure what gives but he's certain that Laura's behind it.

The Bargain by dr_girlfriend | 9.7K

Time drags on, and it becomes apparent that this is not a part of the tradition. The wolves start to shift on their feet and murmur, but no one attempts to speak to Stiles. He stands, feeling the back of his neck growing red from the sun and his face growing red from embarrassment.

What will happen if Derek Hale cannot be coerced to the altar? Will the bargain be revoked?

The Key by aussiebee | 7.4K

Eligible bachelor Derek Hale has announced that whomever can take the key from around his dog's neck will be the person he marries. Stiles Stilinski think this is utterly ridiculous.

Meet Your Mark by SylvieW | 24K

Stiles was born with his mark on his chest. He didn’t worry too much about meeting his soulmate, until he got pulled into the principal’s office to determine if his soulmate was part of the werewolf pack that lived outside of town.

After a rocky start, Stiles has to get to know his soulmate, and decide between the life he’s known and a life with Derek.

Wanna Bet? by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) | 1.7K

“This book is dumb,” Jackson proclaimed, tossing it aside and grabbing for another one.

“Just because the words are too big for you to understand doesn’t mean it’s dumb,” Stiles informed him.

Scott and Isaac snorted. Jackson flipped him off. Boyd just let out an aggrieved sigh, like this was the worst thing he’d ever had to endure in his life.

So Shed Your Skin and Lets Get Started by halfhardtorock | 21.8K | Explicit

He's sixteen and in the woods on the wrong side of the town-line and he's so fucking fucked.

He knows he's not supposed to run, they teach that to you in preschool (don't run from a Were, back away slowly and walk with care), but they never told you how it would feel, standing alone in the dark with your heart beating in your throat as those glowing eyes tracked you from the shadows.

Bonds of Blood, Bonds of Family, Bonds of Love by TyReed | 44K | Mature

After being beaten up by a door, werewolf Stiles Stilinksi finds himself bonded to Derek Hale, of the Hale Noble Bloodline. For a scrawny, wimpy, Tainted Bloodline werewolf, Stiles runs away, embarrassed and humiliated as he worries about bringing shame to the Hale Family, and even more shame to himself. Because the Nobles and Tainted just don't mix, never have, never will.

Except, things aren't exactly what they seem.

With the help of the (meddling) Hale family, his adoptive (meddling) human parents John and Claudia Stilinksi, and one very persistent Alpha Derek Hale, Stiles might come to see himself as more than just the blood that runs through his veins, and open his heart to find the happiness, friends, pack, and the family that he'd always wanted.

Hale’s Modern Encyclopedia of Playing Cards (and Dating Humans) by thepsychicclam | 49.6K | Mature

Wolves don't date humans. And Derek's okay with that. He's got his Pack, his friends in the Pack network, and lacrosse. Plus, he plays cards with his grandma all the time. Stiles Stilinski definitely doesn't factor into his life - no matter how much of a crush Derek has on him.

But when bird creatures attack Derek, Stiles, and their friends in the Preserve, Stiles finds out about werewolves and things get pretty complicated. For Derek at least. And he thought school was his only problem, but now he's grounded and Stiles is hanging around way too much for Derek to ignore him any longer.

Summer Contest by kits_lightning | 18.8K | Explicit

The moment Derek stepped into the fighting ring and faced Stiles he remembered why he was doing all of this.

The omega gawked at him and barely paid attention to the other competitors Talia was mentioning and Derek smiled at the thought of having all of his attention. Stiles blushed from the tips of his ears to his neck and began to run his fingers through his hair while looking away.

Derek began to wonder how far down that blush traveled when he shook his head and tried to focus on the imminent battle. He caught the last of what his mother was saying. “—have a good fight and good luck.” More clapping and the horn that signaled the beginning of the fight sounded.

Now as Ever (All That Is and Has Been) by venis_envy | 52.2K  | Explicit

Stiles can't remember what happened to rearrange the time-space continuum, or how he ended up being pulled into the past. All he knows is that he's there now, in 2003 Beacon Hills, with a teenage werewolf and a possibly-crazy veterinarian as his only allies.

[carriagelamp]

Art of Aardman

I found myself a cheap copy of the Shaun the Sheep movie, so I was rewatching a bunch of Aardman films earlier this month and decided to hunt down some books too. For anyone that doesn’t know, Aardman is a British stop-motion studio that does fantastic work like Wallace and Gromit, Shaun the Sheep, Chicken Run, Early Man… tons of cool stuff. They’re always quirky and funny and warm-hearted. This was just a very nice art book for anyone that’s a fan of Aardman stop motion and wants to see a bit extra; it shows some cool concept art and blows up the neat details in Aardman work, especially in their intricate stuff like The Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists!

Asterix and the Picts (Asterix and the Chariot Race, and How Obelix Fell Into The Magic Potion)

I decided to try a couple of the new Asterix comics that were done by the new team, just to see if they stand up to the old ones (that and How Obelix Fell Into The Magic Potion cause I’d never read that one before). They were pretty decent! Asterix and the Picts was my favourite of the two though I wouldn’t say either are going to contest for my favourite Asterix comic... but still! The art looks good and the stories felt like what I would expect, they made for a pleasant couple evenings of reading especially since it’s been so long since I’ve read a new Asterix comic. If you’ve never read Asterix it’s one of the biggest name French comic series in North America, as far as I know and very worth the read. It’s about a single Gaulish village that’s holding out against the invading Romans through sheer force of will, slapstick hijinks, and a magical super-strength potion brewed by their druid. Lots of fantastic visuals and cute wordplay, even in the English translations.

Bear

I found out about this bastion of Canadian literature via tumblr post that was losing its collective mind over the fact that some bizarre bear-based erotica novella somehow won the most prestigious literary prize available in Canada. Since I too found this hilarious and unspeakably bizarre I had to give it a read, obviously. And yes, the flat surface level summary is... a librarian moves out into rural Ontario and falls in love with a literal for-real not-supernatural-not-a-joke bear. And I have to say… it is actually worthy of an award, which I was not expecting given that I was there for a laugh. It has beautiful writing, and the subtextual story is pretty interesting… it kind of makes me think of The Haunting of Hill House actually in terms of themes. (Womanhood, personhood, independence, autonomy partially achieved through escaping the male gaze by claiming non-human lovers... listen if I were still in university I would right a paper comparing the two novels).

I dunno man, it’s fucking weird. Actually a well-written book, but sure is about a woman falling in love with a literal bear. Give it a read if you want something bonkers but like… high-brow bonkers.

Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites

Best book I have read in like… a while. A long while. I am not a fast reader, and I consumed 90% of this book over a weekend. It’s not at all like Terry Pratchett, but at the same time it scratched an itch for me that I haven’t had satisfied since Pratchett’s death. A very clever, hilariously funny poly romance between a disabled werewolf, an anxious vampire lord, and an incredibly powerful woman, with heaps of social satire, political commentary, and sinister undertones. The whole thing reads a bit like fanfiction and I say that in the most flattering way possible -- it is so easy to jump right in and be immediately taken over by the characters and the world and the plot, you never feel like you’re fighting to engage even though the world-building is fascinating and expansive. It welcomes you in right away, it was the book equivalent of a quilt and a hug which is something I sorely needed with all this pandemic bullshit. If you read any of the books on this list, go read that one while I sit here in pain waiting for the sequel.

Kid Paddle

I watched the cartoon of Kid Paddle as a kid and was thinking about it recently, so I decided to hunt down some of the original comics online. They’re fun and weird, with a cute art style and fantastic monsters designs. (My favourites are always about Kid either daydreaming or playing games that involve Midam’s weird warty troll creatures. It’s like a cross between Calvin and Hobbes and Foxtrot with the fun sort of quirks that I love in Belgian comics. Unfortunately, unlike Asterix, I’ve only come across these ones in French, but if you can read French it’s totally worth popping over to The Internet Archive and reading the ones they have available.

The Last Firehawk: The Golden Temple

The lastest Firehawk book. Despite being written for quite young readers, I did enjoy the early books in this series quite a bit. They’re about a young owl and squirrel who found an egg for a magical species that was believed to be extinct. With the newly hatched firehawk, the three of them head off on a mission to find an ancient firehawk magic that could save the entire forest. Very basic adventure story but a good intro to the tropes for children. Unfortunately the quality really feels like it drops with each subsequent book; this will probably be the last one I bother reading.

Lumberjanes: The Moon Is Up

I honestly think I enjoy these Lumberjanes novels even more than the comics just because it really gives time to delve into each story and examine how the camper are really thinking and feeling about everything. (Also I’m always weak for novelizations of anything.) The Moon Is Up is a book that focuses more on Jo, and takes place during the camp’s much anticipated Galaxy Wars, a competition between cabins that goes over several days. While the campers prepare for these challenges though, they also run into a strange little creature with a penchant for cheese and theft. Roanoke cabin needs to keep ahead in Galaxy Wars and somehow deal with the fearsome Moon Pirates that a closing in...

Lumberjanes v4 (Out Of Time)

One of the Lumberjanes comics, a cool, girl-focused, queer comic series. Honestly, this is just a fun series that I never got as into as I should have. My advice is honestly to skip book one because it gets better as it continues, and I’ve really been enjoying the later books now that I’ve given it another go. It follows five campers at Miss Qiunzella Thiskwin Penniquiqul Thistle Crumpet’s Camp for Hardcore Lady Types (Jo, April, Molly, Mal, and Ripley) as they handle all sorts of challenges, from friendship to crushes, camp activities to supernatural horrors, getting badges to not being brutally killed. Great if you liked the vibe of Gravity Falls but want it to be queer-er.

Mooncakes

Another queer graphic novel, but unfortunately not a very good one. It really looked appealing and I had high hopes, but the book itself really didn’t hold up… I actually couldn’t even finish it, the plot was just too… non-existent. The art is fairly mediocre once you actually look at it, especially backgrounds, and it feels very… placid. Not much conflict or excitement or even a very compelling reason to keep reading. If you just want a soft queer supernatural you may get more mileage out of it than me, but it didn’t really do it for me. There’s better queer graphic novels out there.

New Boy In Town

One of the worst books I have ever read. My girlfriend had ordered a very different book online but through a frankly stupendous error was sent this 1980s pulp romance instead. Absolutely nauseating on levels I couldn’t even begin to enumerate here. Naturally we read the whole thing out loud. Probably took us 10 times longer to finish than it warranted because I had to stop every two sentences to lose my mind. If you like bad decisions, baffling hetero courting rituals, built-in cultural Christianity without actually calling it that, and gold panning then boy howdy is this the book for you.

(seriously, you better have patience for gold-panning if you attempt this one, because I sure learn that I don’t)

Piggies

This was a picture book I enjoyed as a kid and had a reason to reread recently. Honestly it’s just very cute and simple, and the art is completely mesmerizing. Wonderful if you know a young child that would enjoy a simple goofy boardbook.

Shaun the Sheep: Tales From Mossy Bottom

Related to my Aardman fascination earlier this month. I tried reading a varieties of Shaun the Sheep books — most of which are mediocre at best — but the Tales From Mossy Bottom Farm series is genuinely good. Just chapter books, of course, but the illustrations match the series’ concept art and each story feels like it could have jumped directly out of an episode. They’re just cute and feel-good! Kinda like Footrot Flats but more for kids, and from the sheep’s perspective moreso than the dog’s.