#and for anyone else: this is the labour of love i have been working on lowkey for the past three months lmao

[lesamis]

1810s dashboard but it's niche drama

💛 heartofanna Following

imagine cancelling someone for saying war is bad

🧵 sharethewoe Follow

#didn't expect better from w*rdsworth but some people i rly thought i could count on…… #anyway we will live to see this empire fall. can't stop history lol (via @heartofanna)

speaking as someone who was press ganged at the age of 17 to serve in his majesty's royal navy i couldn't be more grateful for your poem. young men like me are cannon fodder and you spoke for so many of us. fuck napoleon but fuck parliament even more.

86 notes

chatterpwned-deactivated78345629743

stable forgiving virtuous flourishing in my lane definitely not buying poison moisturized unbothered never been better

chatterpwned-deactivated78345629743

me when i lie

179302 notes

🏛 mynoseisfine Follow

Settling this once and for all. What does the public actually think about the Parthenon marbles debate:

🦉 realminerva Follow

lol i know it’s you lord elgin

🦉 realminerva Follow

like we joke and all but fully aside from the fact that removing the sculptures from greek soil was vulturine and opportunistic etc, it’s really just the tip of a frankly gigantic mountain of imperialist bullshit. let’s not pretend we haven’t been brutally killing hundreds who resisted oppression in india, LITERALLY BOMBED A NEUTRAL EUROPEAN CAPITAL, and embarrassed ourselves in the charge against napoleon for years now. pathetic ass empire & evil as hell to boot. @mynoseisfine the greeks who carved your marbles millennia ago would kick your tory ass so hard

3661 notes

🎀 emmawoodhousestan Follow

how do i still keep seeing thomas chatterton's final post being reblogged, wtf is wrong with you freaks??? he was seventeen it was tragic and horrible and happened ages ago. he was a kid just let him rest

294 notes

🍎 masque-off Following

callout post for @castleyeah @lordsidmouth @officialcoe @parliamentofficial: they oppress, murder and famish the british working people & also suck majorly

⛪ castleyeah Follow

sour cuz you’re unfit to have custody of your own kids huh

🍎 masque-off Following

proud to be the dad of a newborn who could already rend your pudding spine asunder with a mere glance

187 notes

🦆 mallardturner Following

finished this today 😊

44 notes

😎 chadeharold Follow

why is it always “you’re risking your life and legacy & will get yourself killed before the age of five and twenty” and never how was swimming the hellespont the hellespont looked fun was it fun

🎭 loved-joanna Mutuals

ohhh my god you swam the hellespont five years ago?? wooow should we tell everyone?? should we throw a party?? should we invite famous hero of greek myth leander who swam the hellespont

😎 chadeharold Follow

@loved-joanna look we never had any beef & don’t have to start this now. it’s cool that you’re sticking up for my ex, you guys were friends first, but just know that i’ve always trusted your opinion on my work & genuinely respect and admire you & would still be up for a collab whenever.

🎭 loved-joanna Mutuals

yea sure why don’t your lips collab with my ass

😎 chadeharold Follow

on it boss

1009 notes

#literally call me. down if you are

🍂 endymion Follow

sorry is it me or is the assassin who stabbed german bootleg wordsworth kinda…… 🥵

💄 biprincesscharlotte Mutuals

JOHN KEATS????????

2427 notes

#i'm p sure this is the author of lamia thirstposting on main??? help

🌾 huntsmanx Follow

romanticism this romanticism that why don’t you romanticise universal suffrage and rights for labouring people

🌾 huntsmanx Follow

anyone else in jail for seditious libel

🏹 axelaidtotheroot Mutuals

lmao i'm one of the “anyone else”s and i know you’re enjoying family visits and apparently some kind of cushy armchair situation, plus tons of books. try being in here as a spencean dude they won’t even let me learn how to write. worst of all some evangelical came by yesterday just to proselytize & put me “on the right path” fml

8341 notes

🗻 mounttambora Follow

y'all i don't feel so good :/

59 notes

[cheeriecherrymain]

papa!Viktor blurb, anyone?

A/N: slowly, slowly, recovering from the creative drought ive been in

it's nowhere near a waterfall again, more like a frustrating dribble, BUT. It's something. But anyways, here is a Papa Viktor Thought Blurb (listen, my sister is almost three months old now, and I am so besotted with her, she's my favourite tiny person, and i am full of Caretaker Feelings)

Content Warning: 18+ MDNI (not explicit, but very very suggestive), afab!Reader, pregnancy, labour and birth (again, not explicit, but still with some depth), papa!Viktor, no beta no editing we simply die

Imagine Viktor, and him believing he'll be alone for his entire life - working so hard to make some kind of legacy for himself, putting everything he has into his creations and his machines. Every calculation, every experiment a labour of love.

This is how the world will remember his name.

At least, he hopes.

But then he meets you.

You're charming, he has to admit. You make friends wherever you go, and you have a weird habit of bringing people out of their shells. There's just...something about you that makes others want to bare their souls to you. Something that draws people in.

Like you have a tangible sort of gravity, and wherever you go, someone ends up in your orbit.

He won't mean much to you, he thinks, after conversing with you a couple times. You're creative, like he is, and you're enjoyable to talk to. But nothing more. Sooner or later, you'll continue on somewhere else, making waves and drawing attention. And in your wake, he will be left to sink. It's what expects.

Except...

You don't leave.

Your chats start out small. Short and sweet, a How are you today? wondered whenever you pass each other in the halls a couple times a month, curious about the goings-on of his life.

He never has anything interesting to tell you about. No adventures or tales to tell, nothing beyond the walls of a cramped and cluttered office.

You must be bored, he thinks.

But then you start seeking him out. Instead of just catching up for a couple minutes whenever you happen to walk past each other, you hunt him down in his office - and god, he wasn't lying when he'd told you it was cramped.

You're amazed he even has the space to think in there, with how tight it is. Yet you still shimmy yourself into the tiny room, careful not to disturb any piles of papers, and find a careful seat on a spot of open floor beside his desk. There's no room for a second chair, and you've always made it clear that you dislike standing when you're having a long conversation.

It's nice to sit down and rest somewhere together, you'd told him one time.

You grow closer after that. From seeing him a couple times a month, to a couple times a week, to literally every day. You don't seem to care that he never has anything 'exciting' to share with you, even going so far as to chastise him for calling himself uninteresting.

Your experiments are cool, you'd insisted, while leafing through one of his old journals. It's incredible to get to see how your mind works, and how creative and inventive you are. You have so many ideas, Viktor, and I really believe that they could help people.

Something changes in him, after that. He'd always been quieter around you, listening to your stories, and dutifully answering your questions: never quite letting you in.

Now he looks forward to seeing you.

His heart skips a beat every time he hears you knocking on his office door, a chipper little pattern reserved only for him. You know that he doesn't always like dealing with students after hours, so you'd come up with a way to let him know that it was you who was greeting him.

Things progress...surprisingly natural.

He's not subtle by any means, even if he thinks he is. The moment he realizes that he has feelings for you, all bets are off. His cheeks dust pink whenever you're around, his palms get sweaty and he fidgets, and the staring.

Looking at you with ill-contained admiration and affection.

You can't not kiss him.

You spend the next couple years having the time of your lives. Moving from classes and overbearing internships, to actively working on experiments. Collaborating with each other, drawing up ideas and debating functionality and form. The two of you get so heated when you're creating things together.

Neither of you are surprised when it devolves. Wide gestures and hasty chalkboard sketches, impassioned explanations and wild eyes - you bite your lip as you let your gaze trail over him, in all his dishevelled beauty. Hair a mess, tie crooked and loose, shirt partially unbuttoned, and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Many nights are spent like that, cooped up in his little laboratory, surrounded by sketches and blueprints and scribbles and stray notes. His fingertips digging into the soft of your skin as he kisses the breath out of you. The rhythmic clunking of his crooked desk most telling, as he draws forth your little squeaks and sighs of delight.

Absolutely ruining you, filling you, stretching you open. Feeling the way you tremble in his hands, held tight to his slender body as he reaches so deep into you that you'll feel him for days.

Sinking his teeth into the side of your neck when he finds his own release - to stay quiet, he tells you. But you both know it's his way of marking you.

Claiming you.

You're his. You're his person, his love, his partner. Your eyes only ever shine the way they do when you look at him.

Your body, splayed out and spread before him, quivering and gasping and covered in a thin sheen of sweat - his.

Your taste, sweet on his tongue - your mouth, your skin, your arousal that drips out of you whenever he so much as looks at you.

His.

And he knows, without a single atom of doubt, that he's also yours. So entirely entangled with each other, neither of you knowing how you'd managed to exist separately before now.

How had you possibly found beauty in every day, when you'd never heard his voice? Never caught a whiff of his sweet shampoo as he ambled past you? Never felt the warmth of his touch, or the puff of his sighs on your cheek? Never known the tickle of his hair on your bare skin as you slowly woke every morning to find him curled around you, his face smashed into your back and soft snores emanating from him?

No matter, you think. You have him now, and that's what's important.

...until everything changes.

You miss a period.

You tell him about it.

You're both on edge, but he tries to remain optimistic. Cycles can be upset sometimes, he tells you, as if you don't already know. (You're certain he's really just trying to reassure himself.)

But deep down, you know.

You can feel it in the all-encompassing tiredness you wake with every morning. In the random bouts of nausea, and the sudden food aversions. The back aches, and all the sudden new smells you can detect.

You know something is amiss.

And he knows, too, when he finds you one time in the middle of the night. Standing in your shared little kitchen, in the dark, illuminated only by the light of the open refrigerator.

Pulling pickles straight out of the jar, dipping them in mayonnaise, and sinking your teeth into them. Like they were to most delectable thing you'd ever ingested.

You're both terrified, of course.

You're not really surprised that you've managed to fall pregnant - not with the way you two lust after each other practically every night, and sometimes in the morning. Maybe even once or twice in between meetings, when you're both squished together in his compact office.

Neither of you ever thought you'd become parents.

And certainly not right now.

But...you want this, you realize. You want this with him. You want a family with him, you want the evidence of your love - you want a future with him, and you want to see what beautiful little person you'll make together.

Would they have his eyes? Yours? He hopes they have your smile, he tells you, eventually.

It takes you by surprise, his words, what with how quiet he'd been since you'd both figured everything out. You'd been worrying that he wasn't really on board with keeping the baby - with being a father. And you hadn't blamed him, really.

You'd been beyond stressed at the idea of raising a child alone. The thought of him leaving you, leaving behind something so intrinsically tied to him, had been slowly breaking your heart. You hadn't wanted him to stay simply out of obligation - you know you wouldn't be able to cope with the eventual resentment that such an action would breed.

But to know for certain now that he'd only been anxious?

That he wanted this with you, and was excited?

You're so happy that you immediately burst into tears, squeaking and sniffling and snotting uncontrollably while Viktor bites back a laugh and herds you into his embrace. Stroking your back and murmuring the sweetest things to you while you try to catch your breath, leaving gentle kisses all over your face.

Telling you all about what kind of person he hoped your little one would be.

Your smile, most certainly, he said, resolute. You have the most beautiful smile. You light up the room wherever you go. Maybe your sense of humour, too. And certainly your compassion.

Your tears slowly began to lessen, as you let yourself be lulled by the comfort of his arms around you.

Your hair, though, you insist, smushing your face into his shirt. You look so pretty in the mornings, all fluffed up and in disarray. It's the cutest shit I've ever seen.

That garners a laugh from him.

I want them to have your eyes, as well, you admit, albeit somewhat shyly. I've never seen a colour like yours, so intense and complex. Way back when we first met, and you looked at me for the very first time? I almost lost the ability to breathe. It was...it was like I knew, right then. That you were the person I wanted to spend my life with.

He squeezes you a little bit tighter, stooping down to tenderly slot your lips together. Slow, lazy, intimate. Sharing breath and warmth and love and-

He takes you again.

Right there, in the dim quiet of his office, not seeming to care if anyone passing by in the hallway might hear you. Spoiling you absolutely rotten, speaking praises against your skin as he brings you over the edge again and again and again.

Pupils blown wide as he sinks his fingers into you, crooking them perfectly as to reach the spots he knows will drive you mad. The papers strewn around the room don't matter - they don't even cross his mind, as you wriggle and squirm and quiver and cry out for him.

How could they, when all he can focus on is the way you look when your body tenses up, another wave of ecstasy coursing through your veins, culminating in your lovely little noises, and the addicting feeling of your pleasure dripping down his fingers and over his palm, soaking him thoroughly.

He would be happy to have you like this, as frequently as you would let him.

He knows how sensitive you must be by now, not only from his ministrations, but also from the way your body is changing. He's done his fair amount of reading since discovering your pregnancy - he's aware of all the ways you might be feeling.

The hunger, the exhaustion, the aches and pains.

The all-encompassing, single-minded lust you might go through.

He's ready to please you, however you might want - his fingers, his mouth. And whenever you might want. You could wake him up in the middle of the night, for all he cares. You could nudge him from the sleep that he so desperately needs, and he'd ask not a single question besides What do you need, darling? How would you like me?

What he doesn't expect is his own desire.

You're beautiful. You always have been beautiful. Even as things change, he was absolutely certain that you would never stop being beautiful.

It's you, so of course he's going to want you.

But seeing you now, whining and looking at him like he's hung the moon in the sky, specifically for you? Your tummy already growing round with the life that you've made together, visible proof of your love? Desperate whimpers falling past your lips, begging him for more, for him to fill you up again and again and again?

He can't resist you.

Even when he starts to ache, and his arms start shaking, and his throat is raw and dry from breathing hard and calling out for you.

He can't resist you.

You're insatiable.

So is he.

He's a little more careful as the months progress. Manhandling you less, digging his fingers into the soft fat of your hips a little gentler. He's cognizant of how you're most comfortable, watching in awe as you tremble on top of him, grinding down on him and taking his entire length into you like you were made specifically for him.

Nearly every day, you beg for him.

He loves you.

And when the time eventually comes for you to waddle carefully into the labour centre, meeting your midwife along the way, Viktor tries to keep his worrying quiet. Tries to stay by your side as a supportive pillar, regardless of how well or not he might actually be able to hold you up.

Holding your hand, kissing your knuckles. Trading his fingers for a stress ball when you squeeze a little too hard (and then another stress ball, stronger this time, when the first one explodes in your fist after a couple minutes. It shocks both of you, but to his surprise, you start laughing).

He tenderly dabs the sweat off your forehead as the hours go by, keeping your hairs from pasting themselves to your face and neck. Staying nearby as a source of comfort, but not so close that you feel smothered by him - allowing you the space you need to wiggle around as you see fit.

Telling you stories to distract you, listening to your complaints and observations as his words become unable to mask the pain of your contractions. Doing his absolute best to bite back a fond grin as you breathlessly curse him for doing this to you.

I didn't mean it, you tell him, as soon as the words leave your mouth, your eyes wide and tearful with sorrow.

I know, he promises, leaning forward to press his lips to your dewy skin.

You sigh happily.

It's not for another couple hours that your baby finally decides to enter the world.

You're beyond exhausted, and Viktor is starting to get fidgety with his worry. Is it supposed to be taking this long? he wonders internally, keeping his questions to himself so as not to stress you out even more.

The midwives, to their credit, are incredibly skilled. Staying by your side throughout the whole process, carefully monitoring everything they need to in order to make sure you're healthy. That the baby is healthy. He knows that they would say something, if anything was truly wrong.

And when the little one finally arrives, she does so kicking and screaming, making an absolute ruckus in the quiet room. The door is shut tight, keeping the sounds of the busy establishment at bay, and the curtain is drawn for your privacy so no one can see in when the staff come and go.

But when your girl begins shouting her absolute displeasure into the air, Viktor swears he can hear some quiet clapping and cheering from the hallway. He doesn't know if it's for your success, or for something and someone else entirely - but for a moment, he likes to believe that there are some strangers out there who are happy for him.

They don't know his story, and they don't know yours - but they've heard a great cry from somewhere hidden and full of struggle. An all-encompassing wail that confirms the presence of life, shouting to the world I am here, I am alive, and I have absolutely no idea what's going on!

He doesn't know when the tears start trailing down his cheeks.

Perhaps it's when he first lays eyes on your girl, pink and cranky and a little bit squished. Putting up a fuss on your base chest, scrunching her little face up as you speak softly and tenderly to her.

Perhaps it's when one of the midwives hands him a very soft towel, instructing him on how to carefully pat away the blood and fluid still clinging to your child. His eyes growing wide when he oh so gently cleans her off to reveal more of her tiny features.

She's still new, and needs time to decompress (so to speak), but he stares at her with such rapture. Taking in every inch of her, burning her face into his mind so that he might never forget her. Ever.

She's still new, and yet he can already tell that she has your nose. And your lips. Your smile, he realizes, with a palpable joy spreading through his chest.

His tears eventually dry, if only so he's able to better see you and the newest member of your family. Laying kiss after kiss to whatever part of your skin he can reach. Stroking the tips of his fingers over your girl's hair - her tiny arms and shoulders, her chubby cheeks, the bridge of her nose and over her brows.

But some two hours later, when you're finally allowed to rest in your comfortable hospital bed: when your baby is now dry and fed and swaddled up happily in Viktor's arms?

The tears begin again.

Privately, in the dim of the room, while you snooze a couple feet away from him, he weeps. Silently, and without so much as a sniffle. He cannot stop the wetness that rolls down his face, even if he wanted to.

Your girl is finally relaxed, after her grand, dramatic entrance. On the edge of sleep, warm and with a full tummy, making funny little expression while she dozes.

Much to Viktor's delight, she has a head of fuzzy brown hair - dishevelled and sticking in every direction, not matter how the midwives had tried to tame it. It'll settle down in a few days, they'd promised. But he didn't care.

The wild mop on top of her head rivalled the chaos of his own. The same shade of chestnut, though perhaps less coarse in texture. Maybe it will grow to the same thickness eventually, he thinks, a fond smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he imagines how much he's going to have to help her with it as she grows.

Brushing the inevitable tangles out with a soft brush. Pulling the strands back into braids so she can run around and play easier - or maybe little buns on the top of her head, he realizes, the image conjuring up in his mind.

All at once, pictures pop through his head, so vivid and bright that he can almost see them appearing in front of him.

Watching your daughter grow. Sleepless nights of taking care of her, catering to her every whim. Making sure she's fed, and comfortable - entertaining her with silly little toys that make silly little noises, bright colours painted across them. Reading her books with bright, enticing visuals for her to stare at, despite the fact that she doesn't know what words are.

Making trinkets for her as she gets a little older. Things that help her learn, but that also keep her excited and enticed, encouraging her exploration of the world around her. Teaching her to walk, by helping her strengthen her little legs. Sitting on a footstool, a wide smile on his face, as you hold her by her arms and support her as she figures out how to use her legs while upright. Leading her right over into his waiting arms.

Until she's able to balance on her own, after a number of weeks of practising together. Pushing herself up into a wobbly stance, doing her absolute best to try and balance. Maybe she stumbles a couple of times, but she's persistent -stubborn, like he is- and continuously rises back up until she's able to make it over to him on her own. Giggling and wiggling when he scoops her up and praises her and showers he in affection.

Teaching her about anything and everything, the bigger she gets. Answering every question she has, no matter how confusing or senseless - encouraging with his own suggestions, and prompting her to discover some answers for herself. Putting together little experiments for her, so they can learn together and so he can watch her eyes widen with the joy of new information.

Fixing her toys for her whenever they break, as she brings them to him with misty eyes and a wobbly bottom lip. Papa, it fell apart, she says sadly. To which he pulls her onto his lap, regardless of what work he was doing, and helps her repair the damage. Letting her watch and observe when she's still too small to hold a screwdriver, and carefully explaining things to her when her motor skills start to develop more.

And then helping her figure out in what way her toy broke, when she's a little bigger. Asking specific questions, so she can work to connect all the dots herself. Helping her gather the materials that she needs in order to fix things herself, and praising her to the high heavens when she presents the finished product to him.

The little thing is slightly lopsided, but he fully believes that it adds to its charm - tells her as such, when she sighs about it not being the same as before.

It's a little uneven, just like me, he says, with a laugh.

And, much to his complete shock, she wraps her little arms around him, and gives him her strongest possible squeeze.

It adds to your charm, she parrots back to him with complete honesty. I like you, Papa.

And once again, for the umpteenth time throughout his daughter's life, his eyes well with tears and he presses a kiss to the top of her head.

She could go anywhere she wanted, once she grew up. Learn anything, do anything, be anything. Perhaps she'd enjoy the sciences, like he does - machinery, and building, and designing, and inventing. Maybe she'd get into art, and spend her days painting or sketching, or writing, or making music - inspiring other people with the things she makes.

It doesn't matter, though. Because no matter what she ends up enjoying, or where she goes in her life, Viktor will support her with his entirety. Even when she grows all the way up, and inevitably leaves home to begin her own life, whatever that may be.

He knows he's going to cry then, too. So many years together, and yet it will still never be enough.

But for now, he sighs, staring adoringly down at the tiny infant in his arms. For now, they have time. He vows silently to never waste a single moment with her, and never pass up the opportunity to spend time with her. No matter how busy or frustrated or tired he gets, he won't let her grow up feeling unwanted or unloved or unimportant.

He'll give her a better life than he grew up with, and that is both a promise and a threat.

After all, he would do anything, for her.

His greatest creation.

[shady-swan-jones]

Captain Swan Fic Recs are back, baby! - April Edition

Hello, cs friends! It's been like, what, seven years since I last did this? Who's counting. Enjoy the fruits of y'all's labour and some amazing stories. Keep writing, we need you

-Sophie

when Emma falls in love [from the vault] by @spartanguard

Inspired by "When Emma Falls In Love" by Taylor Swift, part of series based on songs from the vault

everyone's wondering why Emma doesn't screw the hot bartender already, it's not like he hasn't given signs. but with emma's romantic past it's not like she's throwing chances to anyone, scruffily attractive as they may be. yet, it's not her past that's worrisome. will they break the curse?

rated T | 6.2k words | AO3

Untie Me | captain swan fic | office romance | mature | 3/5 | 5.9k | in progress, by me

“Didn’t you pay attention to trigonometry, Jones?” she balances her weight on the stick, languidly, in a way that ticks something into his already drowsy brain.  “Is this the part where you offer to teach me, Swan?” he says, advancing to her. 

Read on Ao3 or ff.net

I, lost, was passing by - by @dykelilypage

Five years ago, Emma's father had given her a necklace for her birthday. It was a beautiful ruby encased in a golden chain, that sat heavy on her chest. It was safe to say then, that Emma was more than a little bit pissed off to discover that it had been stolen from right around her neck. The one stroke of luck to the whole ordeal was that she knew exactly who had taken it. Killian Jones. rated E | 6267 words

love scare by @exhaustedpirate

it's a little canon-compliant one-shot that i place during the six weeks of peace, more specifically, like a day or so before 4B rated G | 922 words | ao3

Expecting a Secret [3/3] by @walviemort

Summary: After the events of 3x19, Killian is at his lowest after being rejected by Emma. When Snow’s labor turns out to be a false alarm, Zelena offers Killian a deal: she’ll leave the Charmings alone…if he gives her the baby she needs for her spell instead. There’s just one hitch: he has to keep it a secret. At least it will only take 10 days, right?

The Heart of a Villan (5/5) by @beckettj

There are only two people that can make me care about football: Ted Lasso and this. Words: 6181 ~ AO3

Perilous Harbor by @veryverynotgoodwrites

Emma Swan is heir apparent to her parents' kingdom in the Enchanted Forest, and a powerful wielder of light magic. This makes her the most wanted woman in the realm, not only for marriage, but for leverage against the king and queen. While her parents have been able to keep her safe so far, an attack is launched on Princess Emma that leaves her no choice but to seek the protection of her worst enemy - Killian Jones, infamous captain of the Jolly Roger and his pirate crew. ao3 in progress 19/23

a work of art by @sotangledupinit

“I always have to clean up your messes,” she mutters to herself angrily, eyes glaring down at the red liquid on the floor.

Between Waking Life and Our Dreams (12/?) by @nachocheese-itsmycheese

Season 3b canon divergence: Storybrooke is still missing when Emma, Killian, and Henry reach the town line. AO3 T

The Fluffy Problem by @ineffablecolors

"Oh, I'm going to have fun paying you back, Captain."

ff.net

The Cure for Loneliness (4/?) by @laianely

Killian went to the world without magic to finally kill Crocodile, but instead he met Emma in Gold's shop. And his whole life turned upside down overnight.

E 16k words in progress AO3

Pan Says... (8/?) by @hollyethecurious

After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.

To Cleave Destiny by @iamstartraveller776

She was going to pass the night the same way she did every year in adulthood: by getting drunk enough to forget that the world was incredibly unfair. Ao3, in progress, T, 4k

Note:

Don't forget to comment and show some love. To me too. Come on. Anyone else who wants to be tagged can request it.

If you have more fic recs or more links, drop them in the comments and I'll include them. You creative mermaids, love ya.

@kmomof4 @caught-in-the-filter @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @justanother-unluckysoul @karlyfr13s  @snowbellewells @xarandomdreamx @klynn-stormz @omninerdgirl  @facesiousbutton82 @finmnsoh56​ @followbatb @killianxswan @booksteaandtoomuchtv @exhaustedpirate @anmylica @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @undercaffinatednightmare @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @stahlords @lfh1226-linda @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie @motherkatereloyshipper @soniccat @jrob64 @beckettj @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jonesfandomfanatic @zaharadessert @bluewildcatfanatic @once-upon-a-happy-end @ultraluckycatnd​

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave you (Pt.53)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: A snippet of the future- a flash forward- in which you and jimin reach an agreement.

Tags: Pleasure dom Jimin, pillow princess m/c, oral (f. receiving), fingering, pussy spanking, excessive squirting, knotting, Overstimulation, Dacryphilia, Breeding kink, Jimin gets a little mean once he tastes her slick, slick-drunk minnie, talks of safe words but no safeword usage, talks of gender and sex, murder, talking ill of the dead, assassin! jimin, implied autistic! jimin, Flash Forwards, intentionally vague moments, brief mention of mommy/daddy kink, brief talks of clothing control

W/c: 10.0k

A/N: please be patient with me regarding the rut chapter ie the chapter after this one! i’m visiting my brother next week in LA so!!! please recommend me some stuff to do in la! i’m hoping it’s going to be a restful trip but ngl…it’s not looking great…. i don’t like planning things that other people are going to potentially not enjoy 😠 i’m meant to be a passenger princess threw and threw

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

(Flash Forward, 6 days after Namjoon’s rut, Jimin)

Jimin lays out the plastic sheeting with a ripple. Making sure it covers most of the corners and the baseboards of the back room of the house. Taking more effort than usual not to be messy.

It would look normal to anyone else as you watch him work from the hallway. But you have a lurch in your stomach as Jimin fucks with the plastic, making sure it lies flat. 

Jimin setting out plastic sheeting would look totally normal to you if you didn’t have an inkling of all the other times he’s probably done it. How many times has he watched blood and viscera soak plastic? How many times has he melted it after at high heat to destroy DNA evidence?

You watch him work, feeling like you’re witnessing something you shouldn’t.

But today, if you happen to have an accident and drip paint onto the floor, Yoongi will refinish them anyways. You’re just glad you’re not painting the sunroom red. 

That's the plan for the day. Primer, paint rollers, the whole shebang. They litter the 10 x 10 room like fallen soldiers. At this point, you've helped Yoongi paint just about every room in the house. This will be the last one for a little while. 

The sunroom at the end of the hall is the last unfinished room in the house. Mostly unused due to its decrepit aura until now. The space is sunlit in the afternoon light, no longer dampened by the old dirty windows. 

Today is the first day since Namjoon’s rut that everyone’s been out of the house. It’s just you and Jimin here. The quiet feels overfull, like something is lingering overhead, a storm or a fever yet to break. 

Jimin straightens when he sees you through the mottled windows- not quite frosted but ripply, like looking through water. Yoongi put the doors back on finally yesterday after the workmen left. Hobi and Jin helped him hold the doors in place while he put them back on their hinges and you and Tae and Jungkook cooked while Jimin and namjoon opened all the windows to rid the house of the smell of strangers.

He was mindful of the strangers, as had the rest of the pack been yesterday with no less than 5 of them here. Tae’s hand had been practically glued to your lower back, herding you towards a secluded corner in the library room for some cuddling and a nap. Yoongi had been worried about them possibly breaking his labour of love. 

They’re similar to the door he put in for Tae’s library only this one is varying textures of mottled glass, most opaque, but some clear with white ribbons or rainbow films like bubbles. 

Yesterday was a little bit hard for Namjoon especially with his post-rut pheromones already elevated. But the windows are finally done, and no more strangers need to set foot in your house for the foreseeable future, and that’s something. 

It’s been a race against time. As the temperature begins to plummet the windows have finally been tended to, the drafty space transformed into a sunlit puddle that captures the afternoon light like a suncatcher. Hopefully, it will help the pack wait out the winter months and fend off any seasonal depression which more than a few packmates are prone to. 

Yoongi doesn't like to name names but Tae and Hobi are vulnerable that way. Like stout magnolia trees and pink echinacea their happiness is prone to bouts of dormancy.

You wandered in here with Yoongi and Jin last night after dinner to talk colors. A glass in each of your hands full of Sweet pink wine, the kind that Tae likes. She would have joined you, had the pack alpha not pulled her and hobi and a dejectedly shy Jimin into some alpha bonding time upstairs.  

“We can’t paint every room in this house varying shades of pink hyung, even if it’s for Tae.” The word sounds especially sweet on Yoongi’s tongue; Jin is the only one Yoongi can ever call ‘hyung’. A special sort of pet name between the two of them. 

The pack omega had curled especially close to your mate with you happily sandwiched between them. Your fingers hooked into Yoongi's pocket and Jin's sleeve. He'd pressed his pink button mouth to Yoongi’s easily, the way he’d kissed the beta a thousand times. And replied stubbornly “Why can’t we?” 

Yoongi always aquiecess, even if he is a little stressed, “Remember Jungkook’s already chosen lilac for the outside. you’ll hate it if it clashes”

"I want to paint stars on the ceiling with glow in the dark paint and maybe the outside too!"

Jin had saved another special kiss for you, just as soft as the one he gave your mate. "Of course you do sweetheart." Yoongi had only sighed, and pulled out his phone to look it up.

They’d settled on a shade of salmon pink this morning when they went to home depot (and coffee, because any outing with the pack omega is sort of a date). the color is so light it looks almost white in the morning and honey in the afternoon. Not quite as dove slipper pink as the upstairs closet, or as muted terracotta as the pack’s bedroom. 

There are several different colors of pink and red sitting by the doorway, mini bottles that the pack used for swatches. Not just pink but yellow too (the color you thought you wanted to paint your bathroom once upon a time) and dark teal blue (the color Yoongi had chosen for your bedroom).

Of course, no painting can happen until the ceiling is fixed. (Yoongi started peeling back the paint, intent to fix it before you started, only to find that the whole corner was rotted out. If Yoongi gets back from Home Depot with a drywall patch by a reasonable hour, you might be able to start tomorrow. until then, you and Jimin will prime the living daylights out of the trim. 

Jimin spots you and flushes- a light pink on his cheeks a shade redder than  the color in the paint buckets. “Hey,” he says, soft, pausing. Sheepish at being discovered.

 “That’s not-“ you gesture to the plastic sheeting, leaning up against the doorframe. “For me, is it?”

“Yes,” Jimin says. Then he bobs, urgent when he realizes what you mean, what just the two of you in the house means. His grip on the screwdriver goes slack. “No! not in that-“ but then he sees your grin and realizes that you’re just teasing him.

His plush lips pout. Round and glossy like he kissed Tae earlier and hadn't remembered to wipe away traces of her lip gloss. Seeing that is enough for you to get a bit of pep in your step. “That really isn’t something we should even tease about-“ You drum your fingers on the doorframe smiling nonetheless.

He opens his arms, and you fold yourself closer to him, stepping over the layer of plastic and drop cloth, and- is that canvas? It’s pleasantly rough beneath your bare feet. His hands smooth up your tank top to your upper back. Your tank top hides very little of you- but Jimin supposes that’s half the draw. The thin straps don't give you too much support. He tries not to get distracted by the faint squish as you press your whole body up against his chest.

Before, he might not have really mused on the slight differences between hugging you and the others but now Jimin’s gotten used to calculating the differences in gender the last few weeks, more important now because it affects Tae. You nuzzle into his chest and then pull back, Jimin’s eyes are puffy, his scent is normal and his hair is washed but- 

“You look...“ Jimin scrubs a hand across his cheekbones, trying to banish the slight haunted look in his eyes. Not like there's something weighing on him but weighing on his soul. 

“I know I look like shit.”

“It’s okay, I like my alphas a little bit ruffled.” You tease, but your eyes flash from his face to his chest and back again. “Is it about Tae?” Jimin looks away rubbing his cheek. And you know that’s a yes without having him confirm it. Jimin's anguish and happiness can always be boiled down to her.

Especially given what happened during Namjoon's Rut. 

“I wanted to ask you for something. A favor.”

You wait. Through the window you watch the trees bob in the wind, the train chugs passed, its lights as limey yellow as the ginkgo trees that lay interspersed with the pine trees on the edge of your property. Not quite as orange opulence as the tall maple tree that plunges your backyard in shadow. You watch as some of the oak leaves are tossed onto your narrow back lawn, a space that any of you rarely venture to because it’s steep and because it tends to be a little mossy and muddy. 

Jimin tugs you to the floor, helping you sit cross-legged without teetering. The layers of plastic and cloth on the floor make it a little slippery and a bit squishy. It's a little bit more comfortable than it might be ordinarily.

Jimin hesitates and his scent goes sour, not exactly angry or overstimulated sour (the kind of scent you’re more used to when it comes from him) but more scared sour. Sharp and grating to your senses the kind of angry alpha scent that once upon a time would have had you ducking for cover. 

You shuffle closer to him smoothing your hand over his knee. "Minnie, what's got you so spooked, why are you so nervous? You know you can tell me anything. Literally."

Your attempt at being funny does little to soothe him. Jimin talks quickly when he's nervous. A habit he definitely picked up from Tae.

“Like with you and Namjoon- like with his rut. I don’t want our first time to be in the heat of the moment. I don’t want to do this without thinking because I feel like- when I do that I fuck up, and I might fuck it up with you. If there are two things I’m most scared of it's fucking it up with you and Tae.”

But it's more than that. Jimin knows that since Namjoon's rut, Tae has pulled you into her favorite secluded corners of the house more often than not. That you've chased those hidden moments of pleasure with love confessions. 

Is he surprised that you've begun to fuck like rabbits now? A little. Not because he's been excluded from it (Not excluded intentionally, it's just that you spend most of your moments together late at night or in the afternoon before he comes home, and he comes back to the house to find you both smelling sweet and sated.)

You haven't stolen his soulmate from him. It's more like you've uncovered a layer to her that Jimin hadn't even known existed. A flower that he just thought was a bud, a dandelion turned puffy-wish. Only more spectacular than that, because if Jimin could choose one flower to represent Tae it would take fields and fields of them, and probably Hobi's help to make the levels of pretty match properly.

Is it Tae's hormones? Tae has never been the most sexual creature, at least not compared to other packmates. Jimin practically wanted to live inside her skin. To consume his lovers again and again until their pleasure became a part of him.

It's not that Jimin's love language is sex (at least not the way Kookie might consider it his) It's just that there's something about the way he loves that's all-consuming. Perfectionistic almost. Jimin will love them well, and learn how to fuck them well- because he simply won't compromise for anything less.

Tae would say that there's something about the way that he loves that's all poetry. Not at all Plath or Service but maybe Wilde if Tae is feeling particularly sentimental for the person she’s doing her best to leave behind. In Tae's words- and she's written books and books of poems about Jimin at this point- Jimin's love is all: 

Let me press my lips to your skin and make every inch known, my lips the pen and your moans the ink, let me show you how good 'good' can feel. Let me do it again and again until bliss feels boring. Let me claim your pleasure as proof of how much I am yours and you are mine. Let me make you hope for nights quiet. For afternoons spent in sheets. Let me make you scorn the morning.

But then again, you're the only one who's read Tae's poetry; so really Jimin has no idea. 

Tae has always been the least sexually active of all the packmates, even compared to Yoongi. Jimin knows it’s a bit prejudiced; to think of Betas as being less sexually active especially when he knows the kind of kinky shit Yoongi liked to get up to before you. But there was a time when Tae's sexual activity outside of rut was few and far between. Jimin knows because he and Jin tracked it one year.

Which is why your cries of "Mommy! Mommy please" That Jimin has overheard on more than one occasion over the past two or three weeks- even before Namjoon's rut- coming from the library room- is so strange.

He'd noted the subtle sound of a chair creaking back and forth and a wet slap every now and then and had not had the strength to peer through the more translucent sections of the glass door. But the encounter had left him with his cheeks hot and his pants uncomfortably tight. A hot shower and the warmth of his own fist had left him feeling only guilty, not satisfied. It was the first time that Jimin had ever felt... unwelcome in the pack's escapades.

Maybe he's a little hurt too- because you hadn't come to him and asked to call him Daddy too. That special pet Name remains reserved for the pack omega. 

The packs dynamic is also something that tae’s been mostly left out of, in the hierarchy somewhere in the middle in only the barest of terms. because tae has never been interested in the dominant and submissive shit the rest of the pack gets up to. 

And yet Jimin doubts this is something you forced on her, doubts that anything about your relationship isn't organic and natural. Which leaves only one possible conclusion; 

Jimin simply cannot fuck Tae the way you can. There is something more, that you do better when it comes to loving her that Jimin lacks.

It's stupid to feel insecure, Jimin has loved Tae for almost his whole life. But jealousy is only a secondary emotion when it comes to you and tae- the primary one Is relief. (and also guilt, but Jimin feels sort of guilty about everything so that’s barely a blip in his radar).

You can’t be scared of change forever. He can’t be scared of change when it’s staring him right in the face when you’re sitting pretty and cute and representative of everything Jimin wants not only for Tae but for himself too.  Of course, just because you know how to give Tae what she needs doesn't mean Jimin should be complacent.

Jimin puts down the screwdriver, and the last bit of paint cracked open.  “After this last week, It’s clear to me that I don’t know how to love women right.” You read into his words. And suddenly standing there feels a lot less normal, your back straightens, mouth falling into a little ‘oh’. There is a stain on the edge of your checkered gingham shorts, the kind you like to wear when you sleep. Suddenly it feels like it matters that you're not put together.

It's okay, Jimin's going to take you apart today anyways.

Jimin's eyes are intense and focused when he stares you down. “I want you to teach me- I want you to teach me how to make love to Tae properly- the way you do.”

Your breath comes in one stuttering gasp and-

Jimin promptly takes one of the tubes of paint, a light blue- the same light blue that you ended up painting the upstairs bathroom, and squishes it out onto the canvas below you. Near your hand but not on it.  

The breath you were holding rushes out in a single jagged laugh, “Okay, now I’m lost- I thought the whole point of the plastic and drop cloths was not to get paint on them.” 

The look he shoots you asks you to suspend your disbelief and tugs you closer by your knee, "Sit closer so that I can spread more around you." He starts dishing out the other colors. Enough careful drops of paint that it would take a lot of concentration to get out of the room without tracking dark blue or pink or yellow or red halfway across the house. 

You wonder what exactly Jimin plans to do to you. Paint included. He puts out a spurt of yellow paint on your side and then another. 

Surely sooner rather than later, noodle is going to wander in here in search of a pool of sunlight, track his paws or tail through the paint and leave pawprints everywhere throughout the house. Yoongi will probably complain about them, but you might make him keep them instead of washing them away.

When he’s finished, Jimin turns a yellow tube over in his hands. Back and forth, the cap flashing like a rising and setting small yellow sun. Jimin’s voice is low when he speaks, near reverent. “You’re the first woman I was ever with- that I ever knew I was with.” 

It’s an admission and an admonishment, one that you and the rest of your pack have been tiptoeing around. Even though Tae’s a woman now she hadn’t always been. While new lines in the sand are drawn that doesn’t mean the old lines totally fade away. It will take a few more cycles of low and high tide to completely grow used to this.

Jimin fiddles with a small red tube of paint. “I’m a rigid person, I know I am. I don’t like change most of the time and I know, I know things shouldn’t be so planned, I know that’s not the way things usually go but-” You nuzzle close to Jimin, and his words extinguish into a sigh. His hands cradle your sides, the same place he always likes to hold, between your shoulder blade and your ribcage.

You peck under his jaw, “But you need them to be this way sometimes. Planned? So you can make sure everything’s done right?” You press. Mirth playing at the end of your sentence. Jimin is terribly fun to tease. 

He bristles, “If you’re expecting me not to make loving you guys perfect when I can make it that way then-”

“You’re such a control freak Minnie.” You say it with a smile, playing your fingers through some of the milky pink white, feeling the tackiness between your fingers.

“You don’t hate it?”

You shrug. “Jin’s that way too sometimes. So no, I guess I don’t hate it. Maybe it’s just because I like- really fucking hate making decisions- so.”

He grimaces, but Jimin’s eyes dart from your face down to your crossed legs. settling on something. “Do you care if those clothes get dirty?”

“A little- I like these shorts.”

“Then you should take them off.” 

Your heart thuds as Jimin leans over you, tugging on the strap of your Tank Top with his teeth, lips pressed to the bare skin of your shoulder, dragging them down. He plays at being sexy but decides not to be, settling for leaning his cheek on your shoulder and watching you. 

“I had this stupid idea, if you don’t want to do it just say so. But this is every shade of pink that we ever painted the house. Tae’s favorite color is pink- and the canvas- I thought it might be nice to have like- some art in her library room- that’s what I meant about making it planned.”

“Are you saying you want to make sex art for Tae or something?” Jimin blushes yet again. You should be keeping track of how many times he has and use them for leverage. 

"Her favorite color is pink." He says, like that justifies it. “And you know gift giving is like, my second love language if that bullshit is to be believed and-”

“-Oh my god you actually do want to make sex art!” your playful shove at his shoulders almost sends you spilling into a splotch of blue. But Jimin is as immovable as ever.

He leans over, growling, nipping at your throat- an alpha tired of being teased. “Do you really think it’s so strange that I want to remember this later, or do you just think it’s odd that I want to treasure you specifically?”

You lean, you’re awfully close to a splotch of yellow that he poured out. You don’t have a good answer for him, or at least- one that will make him stop looking a little sad. 

He shouldn't be so surprised that you kiss him to avoid answering. And yet his hands hit a splotch of blue to support himself when he's suddenly made dizzy. Your laugh tastes sweet pressed to his mouth, and the quirk of your lips says ‘That’s what you get,’

You guess the floors need to be replaced anyway, and he's a trained professional when it comes to clean up so it’s not like it will matter if you and Jimin get a little messy here. If Jimin really wants to learn (and you have no doubt that he does) you’ll gladly teach him. 

Unhurried kisses become your hands pushing his flannel off his shoulders. Laughing when you look down and realize you've definitely left pink all along the collar. Jimin has the perfect lips for kissing, soft and strong in all the right ways, his hands go to your hips then up to your waist and back again, and his kiss goes sloppy- like he’s distracted by the feel of you.

He separates briefly, to very carefully and neatly, take off your shorts and place them near the edge of the room where there is less of a risk of them getting ruined. Leaving you in just your little panties, you wonder if Jimin knows this is one of a set- that Tae has the other ones and is wearing them today.

(You might have decided to match today, getting ready in your bedroom. She might have liked picking out your clothes a little bit too much, heart fluttering at the idea that you’d be wearing what mommy wanted you to wear all day).

But then he surges forward, pressing a kiss to your lips gently except for the way that you can feel him get jumpy and nervous, and when he pulls back, he’s uncharacteristically shy. “I-“ Jimin is blushing, his cheeks rosy pink, like the buckets of paint have jumped up and left splotches there. “I wanted to come find you once I was done setting up- to kiss you and then-“ he tucks his face down not meeting your eyes.

 “You love Tae so well,” Jimin sounds sick with it. A confession maybe, that you love her better than he ever could. How is it that you’ve mastered it? Jimin’s world begins and ends with Tae, and Tae’s world is all you colored these days. And yet, you love her better- love her more. 

He leans forward holding your hip, hand hovering on that space between love handle and stomach. It's the first time in the night that you push back, covering his hand with yours and sitting back. “I don’t know how that feels on men but on me, that’s kind of ticklish and kind of anxiety-inducing so-” 

“Sorry,” Jimin takes his hands off of you, flexing them, “Wait how should I do it then-” you make him sit back, straddling him, narrowly avoiding putting your palm in a puddle of pink paint. 

You slide your hands up his waist to cup his ribcage, and you feel the frantic thudding of his heart under your fingers. “Like this, if you had tits, I’d be just barely touching them, right? Boobs on their own are not like- the most sensitive things to be honest, but if you don’t touch them strong at first and kind of tease around them- it makes it feels better.” 

You sit back again, letting Jimin touch his fill, letting his hands rough in all the right places. His fingers skimming up your ribcage, cupping underneath them with a blush on his cheeks, pulling back carefully to watch your expression and make sure he's doing it right. “Yeah- like that” you ignore the way that your breath goes heavy but Jimin’s smile goes a little feline. Like he knows how affected you are but won’t call you out on it. 

“Did you know- until you I thought I was like- truly only into men?” you shrug, as Jimin slips off your tank top reverently. The dusky rose of your nipple is so similar in color to one of the pinks he just placed, or is it closer to the rose brown purple that comes when you mix the swatch from the upstairs with the pack's bedroom? Jimin couldn’t tear his eyes away from you if he tried. There’s a fleck of it on the shorter baby hairs near your face too.

You tap your fingers across Jimin's shoulders, narrower and comparatively more feminine than Tae's. You don't like thinking of any part of her as particularly masculine, but her shoulders have always been particularly dysphoria-inducing for her.

It's sad to think that maybe if she looked a little bit more like Jimin and had his proportions some parts of her transition might be easier on her. You can only tell her she's got the proportions of a victoria's Secret model so many times before it starts to feel a little disingenuous. 

“It always seemed a little bit nebulous to me- women, men- gender- secondary and otherwise." You shrug, and maybe that's not what Jimin expects from you. Especially with Tae- that you'd have more keen answers for the differences. Not that there were none between the secondary and primary sexes. 

His fingers slide down your hip, petting over your hip bone. his touches exploratory, uninhibited as you talk. Waiting for you to check him. He leaves his fingerprints- yellow blue and pink, over the cusp of your hip, and you can tell you're smearing some color beneath you as you shift to let him have his way with you.

Your breath gets heavy as Jimin's touches get bolder and bolder. Petting up and down your thigh as he kisses softly down your chest, hair tickling your skin. He gestures to your boobs, “No biting?”

“Yes but also no. It depends.”

Jimin sighs, pulling himself closer to you, face level with your chest, nudging your nipple with his nose. “That’s frustrating, I’m used to penis rules. No teeth. not ever.”

You bark a laugh, and Jimin touches your chest softly, your nipples pebbled against his palms, a little heavy as he feels their weight. “They’re so-“

“Squishy? Soft?”

“I was going to say weird, why do you have pillows attached to your chest?” you slap his shoulder in retaliation but Jimin’s smiling. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay” You mean it too- you don’t expect Jimin to adjust instantaneously. Maybe it’s too honest for you to confess it, but you understand how love and sexual attraction can be two different things. Jimin might love you because you’re you and might want to show that love in the way he knows how but that doesn’t mean your body won’t at first be very new and very odd to him. Sometimes it takes a second to properly enjoy the people you love.

Tae is the way you find yourselves back to each other. “Did you ever love a woman besides Tae? Before her?” A flash of red lips and a short black bob of hair runs through your mind, but you shove it down and away because no- desperation isn’t the same thing as love. 

Jimin continues to touch your chest, his hands moving from cupping them to teasing at the nipple gently, probably the way he’s done to Jungkook before. You can’t say it doesn’t make your tummy start to tighten, the way he does it- unsure but eager.

“Yes and no, I think I had like- crushes maybe? In high school? But never like Tae.”

"Maybe that’s only because I started to love your soulmate after I knew. I never had to change the way I loved her like you did. You've loved her for a long ass time Jimin." Jimin flushes with that- the acknowledgment of it never feels any less lucky. Tae could have been loved by anyone- yet she chose Jimin. Tae has always felt like Jimin's own personal slice of heaven, the only piece he might ever touch.

Jimin looks at you and sees a second sliver, a second chance at salvation. “I've only ever loved her as Tae- not-” You don't say Tae's deadname. To utter it here among all this pink feels sinful when it's done in the name of loving her.

Jimin touches you so reverently, fingers skimming up and down your slit, finger pads pressing against your clit, gentle but explorative. 

He watches you, watching your lips part in a soft gasp. The wet glimmer of slick builds, wetting the tips of his fingers. You're so soft and silky down there. knuckles pressed to your mouth to try and keep the sounds in, eyes fluttering shut. Very very pretty in the sunlit room where Jimin can see all of you, the soft fold of your stomach, the freckle on your hip, the one just under your chin.

If freckles hold all of the places that you were kissed in a past life, Jimin thinks you’re going to be covered in them for the next.

You're breathing heavy, but you still find the air to instruct him, “You're doing well- ah- soft touches like that make me feel- Tae likes to feel pretty.  I don’t know if it’s like that with all women but-“ You grab his wrist but don’t tug it away, so Jimin keeps drawing endless circles on you, “B-but it’s like that with her. I called her cock pretty once and she came all over me on accident. Said it was just the hormones but-” 

“She is really pretty” Jimin’s eyes go far away like he’s thinking about it. And you laugh to bite back a moan. You reach over, pawing at his pants and his belt, making him pull back to take them off not only to make your positions more equal but also because Jimin's all-black outfit is honestly being ruined by all the paint. 

You lean back and watch him lift his shirt over his head. “I know! It’s honestly so annoying like- how is it that she was so pretty as a boy and as a girl- I’m honestly so jealous of her sometimes if we’re like-“ you break off. Going quiet wondering how much is normal to reveal. “Talking about gender and stuff.”

Jimin grips your knee, “If I keep going, are you going to tell me when I do something right and when I do something wrong?”

“Of course, but take off your pants first.”

He huffs, but it's all put upon "What a demanding little pup I've got. As you wish." 

You’d forgotten that Jimin a quite frankly unfairly pretty cock. Pink at the tip and well-manicured. All of your packmates keep their downstairs area mostly trimmed- the furriest of the bunch being your mate and Namjoon. Somehow you thought Jimin might want to keep it wilder and yet he's smooth. Perfectly manicured. 

“Her, but not you,” Jimin says, needing clarification but knowing the answer. your foot hits something wet smearing.  The mess gets messier when he jerks you up into his lap, sitting you across it with an impressive show of strength. His cock is wet and hard and pink where it’s pressed against your thigh.

To be mean you arch your hips forward, dragging your clothed cunt across it, Jimin's lips part, and his scent goes thick, like melting vanilla ice cream or baking sugar cones.

The hair on his happy trail tickles your tummy, his hands supporting you as he sets you back against the drop cloth, making sure you don’t bang your head. Jimin holds himself over you, crouching low. “You don’t like to be called pretty- you like to be called cute,” he nips at your collarbones and makes your pulse quicken.

You squirm, but he settles you with a hand on your stomach. “You will get red paint in your hair if you’re not careful.” 

He's telling the truth, you know you have to be half-covered with paint by now. You're doing a good job of making the canvas all pretty. He catches your hand, covered with different shades of pink and white spread across your fingertips, and kisses them anyways, a tiny splotch near the edge of his lips. 

You’re worried. Of course you're worried about the effect your slick will have on all of them, especially Jimin- who's already at the mercy of his instincts on a good day. And yet, you let him pull himself down, knees sliding through pink and yellow and blue. Tossing your panties into some forgotten less paint splatter corner because they’re actually really fucking cute. 

It’s like before Namjoon’s rut, the day you sub-dropped. When Jimin looks up at you to check that this is okay you have the same look on your face; half afraid and half nervous. Like you don’t want to say anything. 

Loving Jimin is very good for you because he doesn’t let you stew in those emotions.

“You don’t have to be nervous. I want to do this, I’m not doing this just because I think you’re more likely to suck my dick later, or because I think you deserve to have your pussy eaten- that's last part is like 1/3 of it.” 

"Are we describing love with fractions now?" you tease, trying to make it lighter. but your heart hurts, Jimin is so very good at making you feel comfortable.  “I always have a hard time believing that.” You confess because today seems to be about honesty. Jimin kisses his way up your inner thigh. Leaving splotches of pink in his wake. “You guys are all so giving, it makes me feel selfish.” 

Jimin presses a first slow kiss where you're sensitive. Slowly, Waiting, hurting for you to push him off. You don’t. 

“It’s not like that,” he struggles with his words for a second but you’ll wait as long as he needs. “You know how sometimes when you eat food and it makes you full but it tastes so good you only want more?” 

“Oh, great now you're comparing me to food" Jimin cuts off your words by pushing your knee to your chest. Unwrapping your pussy for him, the most sensitive part of you wide and open.

“Shut up you know what I mean.” He pales, “I didn’t mean like- shut up literally-“

“Minnie I’m just teasing. I’m not actually upset.” he huffs, but lets you laugh, back against the canvas. "Honestly, I’m just surprised. I didn’t think because of your whole 'I’m a gay alpha thing' that you'd ever want to fuck me. Or if you did we'd at least be with Tae.” 

Contrary to what might be believed, the idea of Jimin only wanting you with Tae doesn't hurt you. The truth is that you have so many people now to please; you were sort of okay with Jimin and Tae being a package deal in the bedroom. If only because it makes things on your end slightly easier.

Jimin presses a kiss to your knee, “I want to do more than fuck you- I want to make you cum so many times you cry.” 

Your stomach swoops, in a way that might just be you clenching a little at the idea of it. “I don’t think anyone’s ever fucked me till I cried, at least not in the good way.” 

Jimin’s growl is a dangerous thing as he pulls himself up to look at you. There’s paint drying on your inner thigh and a whole puddle of it by your hip. And you know you must be a sight. Jimin’s eyes go cold, a little unforgiving at the thought of it and his scent darkens, almost imperceptibly.

You wonder how many people have seen him look exactly like that just before they’ve died under the same touch that makes your heart race. Jimin skims his fingers along your hand, gripping it after a moment, hard, tangled fingers stained with pink and red. Your love for Tae and your other, darker secrets.  

“Remind me to piss on your ex’s grave next time we go into the city.”

Your laugh is a bright thing, and you miss Jimin’s smile when he pulls himself back down to your cunt. "In case no one's ever told you, I'm proud of you for killing him. I know it couldn't have been easy.”

You swallow, you don't want to think about that right now, probably the least sexy thing you've ever done. You don't want to think about any of that right now. “You really want to like- Make me cry?”

“Yes,” he says, and even you have to admit that you don’t find any ulterior motive or any sort of underlying motivation in his eyes. Other than wanting, something dark and roiling- an alpha with something to prove. A shaft of daylight cuts across his face, his body.

Jimin’s so pretty. You wonder if he’s this pretty in every universe.

“You’re welcome to try I guess,” Jimin’s fingers brush over the front of your pussy. Keeping his eyes locked with yours as he softly- ever so softly- pets over your pussy. Your breath hitches.

With one hand braced against you Jimin uses his other hand to brush back the top of your cunt, pinning your clit to your pubic bone. Your lips parting around his thumb, his other finger that just barely, teases the top of your hole. You grab his wrist, cursing low.

Every ounce of your self-control goes to keeping yourself from letting out so many embarrassing noises as Jimin draws light circles over your clit. Touching you firmer than before. “You get so wet so fast- it’s precious.” You squeak, jerking when he presses a little harder. Hand flinging out to grab onto something.

It sends a bit of pink paint splattering, and Jimin’s laugh bounces off the high ceiling. A little gets on the wall. You hope Yoongi won't get too angry at you. You and Jimin are going to make the canvases lovely, probably all blotchy and blended together, by the time you're finished here.

It’s hard for you to concentrate, Jimin’s fingers work so diligently, pushing against your hole even as his thumb digs into your clit, you grab his wrist, “gentle” you say, and he slows his pace, “the estrogen makes Tae-“ Jimin slowly drags his thumb down your clit then back up- the hard nub twitches under his touch. “Sensitive. You have to be gentle. Tae likes it gentle, and so do I sometimes.” He remembers the guise of this, you teaching him.

“Sometimes, but not all the time.” You nod, and Jimin continues his slow, torturous circles. “You can be a little bit rough. If it's too much I’ll tell you.” He nods obediently. “Safeword rules still apply?” you ask, because although this isn’t a scene, you can’t help but feel like you might need them.

You don’t know when you started to need them like a safety net. When it started to feel important to have them, But Jimin nods, agreeing. “Of course. They always do with me. I’ll hold you to them.”

The gentle small slap he lands over your cunt has you jumping, cursing, the skin hotter under his touch. "Jin told me you liked that."

"I do- fuck" Jimin alternates, loving the way your whole body jerks when the sensitive part of you is tapped. They're not even rough slaps but you bet the sound of slapping is sounding through the whole house. juxtaposed with the slow pressure that he rubs against your clit, your heartbeat is just under your skin. The slaps make your pussy more sensitive and especially hot when he begins to press kisses there too. 

He draws his fingers into a pinch and then drags them up and down your clit, making your legs kick weakly. He does it again just to see you shake. figuring out the best way to toy with you, the quickest way to rile you up.

With cocks- Jimin is used to it being fast and wet and hard, but the slower he goes with you the more it seems to rile you up and push you to the edge. You shouldn’t be so surprised that someone so kissed by Cupid is so good at lovemaking too. (Tae has a thing for people touched by love, you should know by now to trust her judgement.)

His fingers press into your hole gently, crooking up with gentle pressure at the same time he lightly circles his fingers over your clit, fingers glossy with your slick, the glide of them wet and easy. “Do you belive I want you yet? or do i need to spank you cute pussy a few more times for the message to get across?”

You cum on Jimin’s fingers like that, clenching down on them as they press up. With him just sitting there, just watching, eyes transfixed on you. he taps over your clit once, twice, and then a third time before you’re arching away with a jagged exhale. You pawing at his hand to get him to stop or at least slow down.

but he’s true to his word, he doesn’t let you get far. His fingers grip your thighs the chub there dimpling like dough. “I was serious,” he says, eyes bright, “about making you cum so many times you cry.”

You wheeze, and he laughs again. You’ve never heard a laugh that sounded so hot, it’s kind of funny how it goes that way; the more you love someone the hotter the little things about them get.

“Lie back-“ he says, “just let me-” You do- because you’re honestly too boneless to protest right now. He pulls you by the hips through the mess of paint, getting it all on his elbows but he doesn’t care when confronted with you, stretched out like a meal before them. Clit pink from cumming, pussy lips hot under his touch from the spanking, wet hole twitching in invitation. Even though he’s seen you take Namjoon’s cock, it still looks so cute and tiny. 

You've come back to yourself enough to tease him. Threading your fingers through his hair as he brazenly watches you. Dismissing the heat in your face as just a conciquence of your orgasam. “If you get paint in my pussy, you better help me clean it later.”

“I’d clean you with my fucking mouth.” He growls against the skin of your inner thigh.

Your retort gets stolen from your throat when he presses his mouth to you.

If you thought Jimin was good at kissing, it’s nothing compared to how he kisses your pussy. Making out with it, his tongue darts out, shy at first. Sending hot licks of pleasure up your stomach. his palm presses flat, against your hip spreading pink and red there. His hand smooths down your knee, and Jimin-

The thing about jimin is that even though he loves giving oral he's never explicitly liked the taste of cock. It was more the fact that it was Tae’s dick that made it good, or Namjoon’s or anyone else’s, that made him love the act of oral so much. Enough to beg for it during rut, to spend countless hours on his knees. To fall asleep during a rut with a soft length in his mouth, mostly Yoongi's, Jungkook's, or Jin's because they're on the smaller side. Happy to have them make his jaw sore.

There is no more complete show of devotion than an alpha getting on their knees for their pack. by comparison, kissing your pussy feels selfish.  

At the taste of your, the grating buzz that’s always in his brain- the mental background noise of overstimulation. Like His awareness of the feeling of his knees sliding against the rough cotton drop cloth, the tacky feeling of the paint on his back drying, the tickle of his too-long hair brushing his ears. The vague soreness and hunger in his stomach from eating something that wasn't right earlier. All of that which usually grates on him, that which usually takes from him- all of it goes quiet when your slick hits his tongue.

Jimin's scent thickens, goes so thick it smells just as potent as it does when he's in rut, vanilla cloud covering you, making you leak more.

The second that your slick hits his tongue, the world fades into bliss. The bliss of clean black sheets, the bliss of fuzzy socks on a cold day, of Hobi's sweatshirt that's worn just right at the cuffs or Jin's nest after everyone's slept in it exactly 3 nights after changing the sheets, just enough for it to smell like them and not enough for it to feel dirty.

Your slick tastes like the buzz that fills his head when he touches Tae's hair, like comfort incarnate, when he touches her skin. He leaves his tongue in soft licks, licks that are more about tasting more than giving you pleasure. You don't really notice the difference.

You try to squirm away, clit still sensitive from cumming earlier, but leashes a snarl. Fisting your love handles. His nose brushes your pubic mound, eyes rolling back. Purely animal when he holds you and pin’s you. Fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises later. 

Maybe they shouldn't have underestimated what 'addictive slick' really did meant. Because this jimin- is another monster entirely. 

His senses, usually friable and bright, like sour candy- go sweet and soft and blissfully quiet. consumed with the quiet of you you you, your slick, hot and sweet on the back of his throat, your warmth, your skin your everything. 

jimin wants to keep you right her, right under his tongue, forever. 

he pushes your knees up roughly keeping you open and prone for him. You yelp, his teeth teasing at sensitive bits, “Minnie- fuck-”

The growl he lets out is possessive, loud, and echoic in the quiet house, vibrating pressed against your clit. It doesn't end, echoing until his voice goes hard and small.

Your clit is so hard and small. The perfect little nub for Jimin’s lips to toy with. they circle and mouth at it mindlessly. Sucking with gentle pressure just to feel it squish against his tongue. It twitches a little again.

Dicks and clits, they’re not all that different. Only this one- this one doesn’t make Jimin’s jaw ache, doesn’t cut off his breathing. This one's so small it lets him let out soft huffs pressed to slick skin, his hands go hard around your fluffy thighs, spreading pink. When he sucks again your hand goes from a puddle of white paint to his hair, painting it.

 “Fuck- Jimin-”

All too soon you’re shaking, Jimin’s soothing growls making your pleasure spike wildly, especially when he looks up from between your thighs, eyes wild and hair messy, 

You cum against his mouth. But this time when you try to squirm away Jimin pulls you back by your hips. You try to twist away, but Jimin doesn't let you go, yanking you back by your knees to bend over his face, keeping your cunt right where he wants it. His voice sounds darker, rougher- than you've ever heard it, "squirmy little omega, let alpha taste you. don’t you want to be good for me?" 

Maybe you should have been more careful, but even at the rough treatment you drip onto the canvas, and you wonder if your slick will stain it too. You can do little more than rest your face against a piece of dry canvas and try not to cum again so soon. You don’t have the brain cells to respond, not when Jimin licks you like that.  

Jimin continues to snarl, throat raw, “Poor little thing, like alphas tongue so much that it made you a little fucked out huh? A little dumb omega? You don’t have to worry pup, alphas got you. Alpha doesn't mind if you're a little messy, I'll take care of you.”

It takes you another orgasam before you're squirting. Your pussy's hot beneath his tongue, ravished and licked so much you can hardly keep your knees under you. Half supported by Jimin's hands as he keeps you on his mouth even as you try and squirm away and save yourself from the embarrassment. The hot gush of slick misses his mouth, trickling down his throat and wetting his collarbones. You'd be embarrassed if you weren't trying so hard not to pass out. 

Jimin is going to turn making you squirt into a fucking art form. 

But surprisingly, you’re just hiccupping not crying yet. So he keeps going. One orgasm bleeds into another, as one hour becomes two. Sometimes when you squirt, it's just a trickle, other times, it's wet and messy and almost /loud/ for the way that Jimin snarls. He tries every angle, palm pressed to your stomach, fingers inside of you pressing up just under his tongue, lapping at your clit like a lollipop, all of it. 

even pressing in deeper, rubbing gently at the spot where namjoon bread you barely last week, a spot so deep that only your alphas have touched, that jimin strokes over just to hear you squeek. his mouth runs an endless trail of filth, sometimes it’s “you’ve got such a cute little breeding hole, so sweet i have half a mind to keep you plugged and full all the time, such a cute hole deserves to be kissed and fucked” other times it’s "give it to me, fuck- please- i need it-"

Your legs are jelly, trembling uncontrollably and Jimin's fingers are Pruny by the time it truly starts to get too much. He’s slick drunk and crazy on the drive to wrench one more orgasam from you. His cock lying hard and unattended against his thigh, dripping thick white cum. The pleasure fading from good to painful, one orgasm wrenched from your body after another, unyielding. 

our clit is so sensitive that even his pressing the flat of his tongue and lapping at your clit makes you see stars, makes you scrabble against the paint-colored floor and try to get away.

"Can't take anymore," you whimper, "please alpha- s'too much." 

Jimin pulls back, giving you a second to catch your breath, before he presses a hand to your lower back and forces you back down. "That's not a safeword pup. If you really want me to stop. Say it." 

You hiccup, but you can't you can't safeword because you know deep down- you really do want him to make you cry. You really do what to see what lies over the next cup, the next minute he spends taking you apart. 

It's the pussy spanking that finally takes you over that edge.

He's unrelentingly diligent with taking you apart, alternating between rubbing tight circles and tapping your clit as he suckles at your hole, wrenching another few drops of slick from you with every tap, until he pauses, and drags his teeth over you. You're already jerking away from sensitivity when he pulls back and lands a hard spank over your sensitive clit. 

You think you actually might pass out for a second. 

When you come too, there's not only a puddle underneath your hips- but also wetness on your lashes, your mouth, hiccuping sobs as the pleasures finally stopped, and Jimin, wet cheeks and all, licks your tears from your face too. “good omega, alpha loves you so much, such a good little pet for me.”

Jimin licks your slick from his lips, wet and messy from you, glossy almost, he bends down, prostrate, kissing the pink splotch on your tummy, “I swear to fucking god-”Jimin does swear to God, in the confines of his own head, that unless Tae gets that surgery in particular, your pussy will be the only one he ever tastes. 

He pulls himself up to your level, answering the weak twitch of your arms with his own around your middle. You’re hiccupping too much to speak and shivering too hard to stay still. Your alpha is hot beneath your touch, the mess of your body and his body, not just paint but slick and sweat and tears, all pressed together like a balm to everything. The tightness in your chest released, you sob and it’s a good thing. 

Something wretched and broken slips out, Jimin presses a kiss over your heart, covering you with his body, with no foe as witness, when there is nothing to protect you from.

The kiss Jimin presses to your mouth is just as soft as the ones he pressed to your pussy. You grimace at the taste of your slick, but Jimin is having none of it, cupping the back of your neck and soothing your cries with a few more kisses. 

“Can you give me one more sweetheart?” His cock is pressing up against your hip, hot, dripping, and insistent. You sniffle but nod. You just want him close.

He pulls your hips through the mess of your slick, turning smudge of red paint all pastel-ly and more watercolor than acrylic as it bleeds. 

He feeds his cock into your hungry entrance, still clenching hard around nothing. It feels like you’re still cumming. You don't know if Jimin kept track or if you could put a number to your orgasms if you tried.

You sniffle. And he tugs you along the warm line of his body. Nosing along your cheek. Keeping your bodies pressed close as he rocks his hip deep. Jimin’s stamina must be endless, each roll of his hips is punishing and firm, grinding the head of his cock in deep. He grinds more than thrusts, nudging the sensitive spots he explored with his fingers. 

Jimin pulls your hands away from your face, looking down, fixing you with a look as he does it again, encouraging another weak pulse and hot clench.

Jimin gets more and more mouthy the closer he gets, he almost talks like Namjoon did in rut when he gets slick drunk. “Gonna fuck you so deep you feel it for days, gonna fuck you so deep there's no way it doesn't take, fuck- you’re mine- you’re fucking mine.” you let out a broken mewl and Jimin tucks his face into your shoulder. 

Jimin doesn't need any schooling, he just needs to love Tae just like this, and they'll be fine.

Jimin grinds his hips in at just the right angle and it forces a rough brutal noise from your throat. A sob that he kisses away. He holds your hips using them for leverage as he breeds you. Hair hanging over his eyes and tickling your brow as he works you closer and closer. The canvas slides against the plastic, but even if you have rug burn later- it will have been fucking worth it. 

“Fuck- I’d do anything for you.” You know it’s true. Despite what happened before. You know now all of that has changed now. 

Your fingers leave red splotches against his stomach, and Jimin trembles. His body over sensitive from all the pleasure, from keeping his orgasam off for so long 

“Would you kill for me?” You ask quietly. Jimin doesn’t stop his pace, doesn’t stop his movements.

You think about Yoongi and that night more than you’re willing to admit; You think about his face, bruised and screwed into a snarl, holding the gun to Geumjae but unable to pull the trigger. You know he couldn't for more than one reason; both because killing him could have killed you and because it was his brother.

But at the same time, You don’t know if one day the memory will ever make you feel anything but emptiness. A bleak almost disappointment. Sure- he’d been willing to bind his soul to yours to keep you alive. He’d devoted himself to you wholly and completely since but-

But maybe that was partially to ease his guilt. Guilt and love. Love and guilt. Are they really so different? Yoongi loves you. You know this as surely as you know that the sun will rise tomorrow. But even he hadn’t been able to pull the trigger. You had to do it instead. 

"I'm proud of you for killing him, I know it must not have been easy"

Watching Jimin fuck you within an inch of your life, you decide you don’t know if that makes Yoongi a better man than Jimin, or a worse one. 

Jimin leans his body low over yours, grinds his cock in deep, and presses his lips to your ear. “Kill for you? I’d do worse.” Jimin drives his cock deeper. Chasing his own release now, not just yours.

 “For you and Tae, I’d do fucking anything.” 

You squirt around his knot, just a trickle of it as it starts to inflate. He doesn’t stop fucking it back and forth, simple millimeters that tug more squirt from you as it fills you up and tugs at your sensitive entrance.  You wet the red on his stomach with how hard you clench down making it dribble. 

There’s even a splotch of red on his shoulder, milky white and crimson. Both of you are absolutely covered in paint. 

 Jimin doesn’t think he’s ever going to get tired of it as he takes a bit of your slick and presses it to his tongue. My sweet pup. our sweet pup the voice devoted to Tae reminds him in his head. Of course, she deserves the most delectable omega in existence, of course, this sweetness is worth protecting.  

Of course, I’d kill for you.  

It's your taste that drives him over the edge that makes his knot twitch and cum start to fill you up, locked deep inside of you. Your abdomen tightens against his as he cums. You’re so warm and wet, so comfortable as he rocks into you. knot too inflated to yank it out.  

The instinct to breed and claim there as he drags his teeth up the Column of your throat and makes you keen. Your hand buried in his hair, the other resting between his shoulder blades, nails resting against his skin, tired of scratching although you’ve already left your marks on his skin. Up and down his back 

Afterward, it’s comparatively quiet.

He flips you over so that you can rest against his chest. He’s warm and hot underneath you. Warm enough that you don’t feel the cold or lack of covering. Knotted together as close as you can be Jimin lets your sniffles quiet. His fingers paint mindless circles over your lower back as your breathing slows. Pressing kisses against the top of your head, your cheek against his chest, listening to the rapid thud of his heartbeat slow. 

Even though you’re quiet, your mind races. Slowly treading toward dangerous territory. Tae’s voice, the memory of Tae’s words- “Minnie. I don’t think I want you to touch me right now, please just- please don’t”

It’s you who dares to punctuate the quiet. “Did you want to do this because of what happened during Namjoon’s rut?”

“Maybe.”

You lift your head, “Have you and Tae talked about it yet?” Jimin tips his throat up towards the ceiling, the cracked plaster that Yoongi hasn’t yet fixed. Avoiding your gaze. He just ate you out, but he can't look at you when you ask about this.

Jimin’s hand continues its endless circles across your sternum, winding down and down.

“To be honest, I don’t know if we’ll ever talk about it.”

 ~-~

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[jackoshadows]

Shein: Fast-fashion workers paid 3p per garment for 18-hour days, undercover filming in China reveals

It is the biggest fast-fashion company in the world, making billions of pounds by unveiling thousands of new designs on its addictive website every day and selling them cheaper than anyone else. Now the first undercover investigation into factories supplying Shein, the Chinese retailer loved by millions of young women in the UK and around the globe, has exposed the disturbing experiences of workers making its clothes. Garment manufacturers in China are often working up to 18 hours a day, being paid as little as 3p per item, with no weekends and only one day off per month, a Channel 4 team has found.

This treatment of workers – who are fined two thirds of their daily wage if they make a single mistake – breaks not only Shein's code of conduct for suppliers but also Chinese labour laws. The company says it will investigate. A woman using the false name of Mei secretly filmed inside two factories where she took on jobs producing the kinds of tops that British shoppers can buy for as little as £1.49. The footage has been shared with i ahead of Untold: Inside the Shein Machine, streaming on All4 from Monday. Women in one factory are found to be washing their hair during their lunch breaks, as they have so little spare time outside of their long shifts. A man who started work at 8am, but is filmed sitting shirtless at his sewing machine after midnight, says he will not finish until 2am or 3am because he needs to complete his batch

Woods says Shein is "head and shoulders" above other fashion brands in the number of "dark patterns" it uses online. "These are behaviours on the website that force you into actions that you might not choose yourself," he explains. "Data is making marketing like a loaded weapon." Shein was contacted for comment by the documentary makers but did not respond on this matter. Data published on 6 April by The Business of Fashion showed that in the year to date, Shein had launched 314,877 separate designs in the US market, compared to 18,343 in the same period by Boohoo. This relentless onslaught suggests customers have more than 3,000 new styles to potentially view every day

The contact arranged for "Mei", one of the journalists in his network, to infiltrate the Shein supply chain in Guangzhou, a south-eastern city with a population of 14 million. Having seen what she discovered, he says: "I have been doing investigative stories in China for 15, 16 years – still [they] exploit workers like dogs. Basically it's worse than years ago."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for telling my lil sis that she isn't that important even when her friend group is standing with us?

[😬💣🫐]

This is a long story background of the story / main focus(???)

Soo me[16F] am I highschooler and I have this extra activity that I do after school called landservice.( Basically we're a group of a bunch of people from the same school that shows to 4 loves by working together. The 4 loves are: love for your fellow people, love for your beliefs, love for labour amd love for nature)

It's my sister's[10F] first year of doing landservice, while I have been doing it for over 7 years. She was really sceptical over whether she wanted to do it but my mother insisted she try just as she did with me 7 years ago.

Soo I just wanna say that her middel school's landservice was soo crappy I had to endure it for 4 years. Soo last year at our once a year meeting to get ideas of what to do next year, we decided we would go help the middle school with their landservice.

We have done it once and yesterday(22/02) me and 4 others were chosen to help the kids make small bunnies out of wool( i was the oldest there rest were 13-15). Now for us highschool kids it's easy peasy but let me tell you middleschoolers don't have a single thought in their brain.

We were task to help the kids when they struggled and were divided in different groups. I got stuck alone with the grade 4 who were the most kids there(there was like 30 grades 4s there mixed language) and since their the youngest of the bunch they struggled the most.

I helped there and then there then suddenly there's like five or four kids surrounding me with questions.( just to say I am very shy with people my age but I absolutely love working with kids.)

Soo here's where the story gets interesting!

My sister and her group didn't really understand the task of what to do and I had to go and help them frequently (they still didn't get it right though)

She would get me to help her group while I'm busy with other kids. Then at one point she just started crying because hers wasn't working out and her friends tried to get me to go help her. But at that moment I was help 7 English kids[my English is the best in our group of five soo I also had to help them alot more] and explaining how to do it with the limited time we had. And her friends just kept bothering us till I said to go let some one else help her.

After I help the bunch I went to try to find my sister, just to find out she refused to get help from anyone else in our group even the teachers. Now that really pissed me off.

I went to talk to her and said that I wasn't there to be her babysitter or mother I was here to help ALL OF THE KIDS THERE not just her. I wasn't going to take this bullcrap from her she is old enough to do it alone or be able to ask anyone else for help.

So that's where I landed in front of my sisters friend group telling her she isn't that important amd she was bloody mad. Soo were he friends calling me a bully amd that I was to mean.

Also told our mum about this later and she says she understand but that was an asshole move.

And after alot of thought I see where I could be the asshole.

Soo aita???

What are these acronyms?

[ilgaksu]

i will now be referring to this situation as weimargate, because i must laugh or i will dissolve into the void.

aka i have had a VERY weird experience of it in fandom lately, and it has escalated to memes in lieu of interpretative dance*, but also i want to talk about it because i think, in more general terms, it's relevant for discussion about how fandom is evolving.

(*as illustrated by @difeisheng because i am personally intimidated by photoshop. interpretative dance would've only had me to blame.)

so. hi! if you don't know me, i am an ao3 writer who goes by the pen name ilgaksu. i have 179 fics on my ao3 account, and of those, 46 of these are for DMBJ or grave robber's chronicles. i've been writing in this fandom for roughly three years, which means according to the laws of mathematics and my own inability to stop posting about my favourite blorbos, that's a new fic every 3.39 weeks. i have not counted chapter updates in this count, but given several have multiple chapters, i think we can see there's....a lot. one ongoing series is currently sitting at about 200k, word-count wise. i like to write, overall, about disability, reclamation, legacy and memory. i also overuse semi-colons.

i am also a very private person at this point in my fandom career. this will be the first post i've made in a while talking about myself where i have allowed there to be reblogs on it. this isn't intended as an affront to anyone else in fandom. my ask box is open, sans anon, and in the last few years, i chose to reply to every comment i could to make sure i still get to engage about the characters i love without compromising my own desire for privacy about my personal life. i choose to work under an explicit persona - because we all do on the internet but i have made mine obvious and enunciated and almost a brand - because i think there is something freeing about allowing myself that experience. it's allowed me to write work that i relate to deeply without having to divulge my life to be analysed by strangers on the internet. generally, i like to post my silly little stories, talk to people about them, and then go about my day offline.

anyway, so this week, i seriously considered walking away wholesale from my current fandom, and i'd actually like to talk about why, and talk about me as a person as opposed to the narrative of persona that i've crafted.

because the reality of a persona is that a real, living person is required to animate it. if i am the person who is small and human and anxious to even speak about this, then i am also the reason the operation is running. it's a one-man show. as much as i want my work to speak for itself without my need to justify its meaning or worth, without my experiences, research and choices about my time, the work would not exist. that's just fact. it's fact for every writer and artist and podficcer and person who labours out of love you see. i also deliberately consider myself a writer as opposed to a content creator, because i believe that label mimics a wider culture i have no interest in - that of someone creating a consumable, ownable object. my fanfiction is a hobby. it cannot be owned by other people. unlike my original work, where it can be bought, there is no formal, explicit contract between me and the reader. there is, however, in fandom, an implicit social contract of equality and collaboration, where we are all equals. i am fundamentally no better than someone who never writes fic and never wants to and never will. i reject the idea of superiority among fans because i do not engage in subculture to mimic the dominant culture, the one that tells me stories are something only certain people are allowed to see themselves in, or even tell to others; that production is the only means of social capital and intrinsic worth.

i am aware, also, that by being private the way i am, i end up sacrificing some experiences that i could have by being more accessible, but i want to reiterate that i have never gone out of my way to conceal my tumblr, nor ignored people who contacted me directly to talk about my fic. in fact, if you show up to talk about my fic, i will probably be so thrilled i'll never let you leave - especially since, when it comes to a majority of it - i spend a lot of time on research, something i enjoy, and deliberately cite my research in the notes because i want to share it as part of the experience of my writing. clearly, i want ideas i have come up with to be enjoyed and loved and shared, because otherwise why would i take the risk of putting them out online, where i then cannot control how they're received or transformed?

however, since about a year ago, i've maintained a policy of works based on my own that i've had outlined clearly in my profile on ao3 here:

as someone who is playing in someone else's sandbox for free myself, my only request is if when you use an idea, usually a headcanon, which is one i created, which you can as much and in whatever way you want because that is the nature of collaborative fandom and the reason i love it so much, you cite that i was the originator of the idea. and secondly, that you let me know. this is a personal request based on how writing can be a very lonely project, even in fandom. you put your work out into the world, with no sense of who it will reach and if it will mean anything to them, and you have to work on the faith that even if it doesn't, the work itself was worthwhile. but you hope it will, because everyone hopes it will.

all of this is outlining so it's understandable to people that read this how i was completely off my face bewildered when i found out a headcanon of mine had reached the level of fanon popularity where it's been mistaken for canon, and has been for over a year at the very least, and i had literally no idea this had happened.

which, frankly, was both hilarious, in a very bizarre way, and completely, deeply sucked.

i know this is my idea because of how distinctive it is, and how much it contravenes canon - namely, that a character, hei xiazi, was a medical student in berlin during the weimar republic. i know it's mine because the timeline with the canon we're told by the actual writer of the source material doesn't match up, which i was aware of and chose to retcon. it was designed and fitted to a personal interpretation of canon material i had been working on for years, and involved a lot of time and research and intense love for the era, the character, and the ways a story about being alone in a foreign country had intertwined with my own personal life. ever since i wrote it, i assumed that the one or two people who had used it with credit were the only ones who had, and because they had honoured my request i was honestly completely thrilled. i still am that those fics exist. that's because it was collaborative.

i want to be clear: nothing about the situation as it stands has been collaborative. a writer being the last to know about the commonality of their own idea in a small fandom is not collaborative. and while it might not bother everyone, it's bothered me to the point i've had serious consideration for several days about whether i should walk away from the fandom.

but ilgaksu, surely you should be flattered that people liked the idea so much?

yes. this was never about the use of the idea. it's about the way this idea has been isolated and used with an assumption that i would have no interest in knowing, or that i would even need to know. i'm not sure what has caused this - whether the persona element of my work has led people to believe i would not have any emotions about finding this out, but i am not, actually, a persona. i am the person who uses it. and as the person who uses it, this is how it felt to find this out. it felt, and still feels uncomfortable, hurtful and isolating to find out your idea has been so beloved but that nobody considered whether you would like to know. it feels like the collaborative element of fandom has been severed from you, specifically, and that your fanwork has been treated as entirely other from you as a fan. i hope nobody else making work feels like this, and i've been told this situation is so strange as to ensure that's hopefully not the case, but i think this is an ongoing issue more widely - the idea that writers are separate from fan culture, and their works are products as opposed to the shared results of a hobby.

do i think this was deliberate? not at all. do i think this was intended to be hurtful? not even in the slightest. but i want to be clear how personal this feels.

i don't have an answer for this situation. the cat is out of the bag, ilgaksu knows about the fanon, and hei xiazi is, despite all canon, going to medical school in 1920s germany. expressing my discomfort with how this has gone down feels important to me anyway, and it's also important to me that i do it in this very detailed way so that people who were unaware do not feel personally at fault, or feel like by me expressing this i am taking this idea back from them. i always wanted this idea to be loved and to be shared.

i also always hoped this idea would find people who wanted and needed a story about someone a long way from home following an ambition, and how much fear and hope and desire goes into the decision to do something like that, and what it means to be a disabled person in a foreign country, and what it means to be queer in a foreign country, and overall what it means to be a stranger in a strange land. i want to be clear that while i wrote this for me, i also wrote it for everyone who has also lived that. i want my work to feel like someone is holding your hand, not that they're at a distance and disregarding you, the reader, and the relationship we have together during the time you read my work.

i hope in future that if you use my headcanons and are aware of that being the case, you let me know. i don't have to read the work itself if you find that intimidating. i will not go out of my way to find it. whatever you've done with the idea, i will fundamentally see it as a compliment and evidence of an exchange between us as a fandom. but i want to know because otherwise, all i see is you taking something i loved and wanted to share and enjoying it with a door firmly shut between us. i am too old to care if i'm not invited to a party, but if the party is themed around a concept i put so much thought and love - for the source material, the people who were going to read it and myself - i can't help but care. it's hard to feel like a vending machine, even if the process of making the fic is so joyful for me that i won't stop until the joy is gone. it hasn't gone yet, but this week it's been dented a bit.

anyway - if you got to the end of this, thank you. please be considerate of how much this has taken for me to express, regardless of your own feelings on it, and how unusual it is for me to make a post that is able to be shared. if you use the idea in future, you do so with my blessing, which was always there. if you want primary sources, places to start, or anything like that - fashion, language, visuals - i want to be clear you can ask me and i will be beyond thrilled to help. i always have been and i'm concerned that because of this that hasn't been clear. but i also feel like if i don't state this experience in this way at this time, and how it was experienced by me, odds are i will now forever look over my shoulder and wonder if this will happen again, and i love writing for this fandom so much that i will not allow something like that to dim that love. i know you love these characters so much too - it's why you're here. i actually used to make a lot more meta posts like this, about fan culture, and i've been considering if i will again - just less personal and less anxiety-inducing to post next time. until and beyond then, i just hope we can all consider things like this in future - that i can treat you with the same grace - and understand the pressures and anxieties of writers in fandom at this point in time especially. a lot of us have hearts far more made of glass about the things we love, like our work, than can be immediately apparent.

anyway, i'm going back into hiding now.

your friendly local cryptid fanwriter,

ao3 user ilgaksu <3

[loxalotl]

Piltover is the problem (*Arcane S1 spoilers*)

Throughout Arcane, Jinx is torn between Vi's "Powder", and Silco's "Jinx". Both love her, but neither accept who she is until Silco's final realistion where he switches from "Jinx is perfect" to "You're perfect." 

Something he was desperate to hear from Vander, who gives up on Silco, betrays him and leaves him for dead thinking he doesn't have the capacity to change. But Silco proves him wrong: "Is there anything so undoing as a daughter". Jinx did what Vander couldn't. Gave him something else to believe in. Focussed that anger and injustice.

And Silco did it. He paved the way for peace. And had a good argument for not handing in Jinx for the murder of a couple of guards when Piltover has been systematically murdering hundreds of children and adults alike in the mines etc.. Oh, but it wasn't them directly, so doesn't count? No. Their inaction was what pulled the trigger. And Jayce doesn't even consider being held accountable for the murder of that boy (again, irregardless of all the out-of-sight so out-of-mind deaths). If brokering peace is enough for him, it should be enough for Jinx and Silco too, particularly when Piltover's body count is so much higher.

When it comes down to it, Piltover are the worst kind of abuser. They're the government who acts all nice and shiny and righteous while quietly enforcing child labour, enabling destruction of the environment, gas-lighting anyone who speaks against them, and promoting an unsustainable and lavish lifestyle based on self-interest at the expense of others. The quiet, deep-rooted, insidious evil that points it's finger at any opposers screaming "look, big bad thing threatening our civilised way of life!"

And Vander and Vi are not the "good guys" either. They're another kind of toxic. The "normal" people with a saviour complex who don't understand/accept anyone different, and part of what pushed Silco and Jinx over the edge (because, yes, Silco and Jinx have crossed a line, there is no excusing that). Neither are the Firelights necessarily the "good guys". They are so focussed on infighting in Zaun that they seem to have forgotten about the root cause of their problems. You know, Piltover? The people who have been quietly murdering your families and loved ones for the past X number of years??? Jeez. Remember the bigger picture guys.

Now, we may have been robbed of the "Silco figuring out how to properly dad" in Season 2 as it doesn't fit into Riots universe (looking at you, AO3), but I can only hope it doesn't turn into the "Vi fixes Jinx" show. Jinx doesn't need fixing. She needs people to accept who she is, and access to mental health care so she can focus that brilliance into productive things. People can be not okay but still valid. Yes, Silco was a "bad guy", but he was also a product of Piltover's exploitation, suppression and abuse (hello? Can we address this please?), as well as Vander's betrayal. He was very deliberate in his cruelty. It all had a purpose. Zaun needed someone to step up as nothing else was working (hello Jinx). Was it the right thing to do? Morally, no. But was it the lesser evil that would overall result in the fewest deaths? Who knows.

The key takeaway for me is that Runeterra DESPERATELY needs access to good quality, free mental health services (as do we all). Also, the world could also come a long way if we a) try to be nicer to each other and b) take a closer look at those really in power ('cos there is a whole lotta grey out there).

But that's how I see it. And I think one of the great things this show has done has sparked these discussions on acceptance, equality, mental health etc. It's okay to not be okay. You're not alone, so just be nice to each other. We're all on this lump of space rock together, and for anyone out there who feels lost, I'm sending all the love and hugs in the universe💜

And yeah, watch this show. It's perfect.

[mishhty]

You said that you cared, you said that you would always be with me. But it was all a lie. I never asked you to promise me anything, why did you use me like this?

You promised you would never leave me alone. But you lied. The only truth is that you cared for everyone but me, when I was the one who supported you the most. Why?

Don't you think a girl of 18 is too young to be played with?

I still miss you so fucking much. I cannot....idk, I just miss you everyday, everywhere. Even though you have asked me to forget you I can't. And you are probably having a time of your life, I don't even think you miss me anymore.

Why did you do this to me? Why?

I told you why but it looks like I didn’t say something you wanted to hear. Guess what, I won’t say it either. I know I am no better than the people who did me wrong, as a matter of fact I have become one of them. This may come off as vain but am I to blame when it was you who had been so vulnerable in the first place? You believed in anything and everything I would say which as I said fascinated me, nobody placed so much trust and confidence in me as you did, i felt so valued. You didn’t mock me for being myself. It was all just… too good to be true. And then suddenly one night when I was asleep I was awoken by deep anxious thoughts and voices in my head telling me to end it all and just leave everyone and everything I ever knew and loved behind, so I did what was best for me and probably for you too. See, I know I didn’t do a huge favour on you by telling the truth but atleast I didn’t lead you on, I didn’t keep you on the edge, I didn’t ghost you. I told you as it was and went on about my life, I finished it off with full clarity.

I will be 18 too soon and clearly age has nothing to do with any of this if you’re thinking you can fish out any empathy by intimidating me by showing yourself as someone who’s ‘too-young-and-innocent-to-know-any-better’ then it’s all useless because well then that’s true for me too, do you think I know what’s right and wrong ? Do you think I deserved all that I went through? I was once just the way you are right now, and it has taken me a lot of understanding and heartlessness to become this way. plus I feel the younger you are, the more it is easier to be fooled with big words and promises only for all of it to come crashing down at the stake of your sanity in the end. So i felt this is more of a reason to go on the search for myself, I didn’t want to be taken advantage of just because i wasn’t aware of the world and its ways yet.

I have a really hard time taking care of myself what makes you think I care about anyone else? I used to but I gave it all up long after I met you. You are the closest I have ever come to feeling love and care for, and I mean it with all my living. And ‘having the time of my life’ ? Seriously? Oh Please! If you were to see my state you would be thankful I left you. All I feel is excruciating pain and immense suffering but somehow I try to distract myself by doing a lot of work, manual labour mostly. I have seen the hardships one has to go through in life in order to sustain themselves and all of this has taught me a lesson I can never forget. I have unfortunately even come to the realisation that I cannot give you the life you deserve and that’s what hurts me the most, more than anything ever. Whenever I over exert myself it’s only because of you, it’s the thoughts of your existence that make me immune to any sickness or disease or exhaustion in this world and it takes me an eternity to accept the fact that you’re not mine anymore. I can’t live like this forever and that is just enough reason for me to want to live like this forever. All this pain numbs my brain, I have never felt any better and it’s only for the best…

[agirlandherquill]

alrighty, so being tagged by @katwritesshit means i'm up for a very interesting tag game so here goes

rules: answer as many (or as few) of the questions about your WIP as you can

What was the first part of your WIP that you created? - might be my favourite question of the lot but for me at least, it's pretty simple, i start with an idea - a theme of sorts I suppose, and I wanted to write about a heist, I wanted treachery, danger, and crime (lots and lots of crime), and from there I spun the rest of my story

If your story was a TV show, what would the intro song be? - consulting my many, many Spotify playlists has made answering this one very difficult (shoutout once again to @katwritesshit for The World Ender because I love that song) but I'm going to have to say Dinner and Diatribes by Hozier or As It was, also by Hozier, most likely because I've spent a great majority of this story listening to Hozier along the way, since Wasteland Baby is one of my favourite albums and it fits so so well

Who are your favourite character(s) and why? - I feel as though I'm committing to a betrayal here by not saying the character who is supposed to be the main protagonist but I'm going to go for Fenley, purely because his cynical, overall dark demeanour has been the most entertaining to write (and his POV contains some of my favourite scenes of the novel)

What other pieces of media could share a fan base with your WIP? - now this one is FUN. especially since I draw inspiration from so so many things, Throne of Glass, The Cruel Prince, The Mummy (one of my all time favourite movies), Now You See Me, The Witcher - just to name a few, I'm not even going to mention the inspiration for the combat scenes because action movies are just (insert chef's kiss)

What has been your biggest struggle while writing your WIP? - truth be told, finding the time to write, as this labour of love has taken me a solid four (ish, I think) years to write, a lot has happened, I've grown with my novel which is to me at least, a very heartwarming thing

Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them! - sadly there aren't any major animal characters in my story, my characters use horses for transport most of the time but that's about it

How do your characters get around? - well, when they aren't on horseback they're either walking or sprinting for their lives

What part of your WIP are you working on right now? - edits, dreaded, dreaded edits - just kidding I'm loving getting to dive into the earlier parts of my novel and change bits as I go, I'm falling in love with the story all over again and I'm only editing Chapter 7/40(something, the current number escapes my mind)

What aspects of your WIP do you think will draw people in? - hopefully the sheer and utter chaos of unlikely thieves trying to do an impossible thing, the characters are my favourite sort to read about, and the tropes (not giving too much away I do enjoy a good mystery :) )

and that's about it, this was super fun so thanks for the tag!

and passing the metaphorical torch on, I'm going to tag: @the-ellia-west @somethingclevermahogony @unlikelycreationwasteland @leotheponderer @alwri-tes and of course anyone else that would like to give it a go! (being new at tag games appears to be my fatal flaw since i have very little clue who to tag, but here you go!)

(and as usual in my rambly responses, very, very little read through, but in my defence this is a late night post so I feel as though the grammar-police might cut me some slack :) )

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Healing

Another self indulgent fic with quite a lot of truth. Tw starvation, isolation, abuse. Tav's pov, 2nd person. Be gentle with this one, please.

Taglist:

@boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana

@auroraesmeraldarose @aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard @silent-words

@netherese0rb @sorceresssundries @mumms-the-word

'At the end of this road I might catch a glimpse of me.' - Sober, Kelly Clarkson

There is a before. You wake up in beautiful surroundings. The sun is strong, so strong you cringe from it. You walk to the little house in Wyrm’s Crossing from your little ramshackle tent on the outskirts in Rivington. The people you see there are upstanding. They are invited to many parties, they go to lunch in the Upper City, they lavish you with expensive gifts. You could never repay them. You are grateful. There is beauty everywhere.

They ask why you care so much about magic when the flaming fist is right there and looking for recruits. They mistrust magic. Some time doing physical labour defending the city, that’s what you need. You do magic in secret. Your tomes are your treasures. They put a sword in your hand every day and work you to the bone. No pay. Only the promise that you will improve. Who you are needs to change, you see.

You start to wonder why you don’t get to eat what everyone else does. The offhand comments for them burrow into your brain and rot there. You train, and you starve. Life is hell. You want to die, but the thought of your mother’s tears stops you. Your body is tired. It pains. The pain never stops. They lock you away sometimes. You grieve who you could have been.

A nautiloid abducts you, and it’s better than where you’ve been. The ship crashes and you’re free. You meet a pale elf who’s skin and bone like you, and hunger resonates between you in a way it never could with someone on the outside. You meet a wizard who takes one look at you and insists he will cook for you, if you promise to eat. You promise.

He lets you borrow his books. You learn. The elf tells you where he came from and what he is, and you cry with him. You say ‘me, too.’

The wizard is putting on a brave face. So are you. He hurts like you do. When you have nightmares, he holds you in the night and tells no-one. When he reaches for your hand in his sleep, you keep it secret.

The others, they connect with you too. The betrayal of trust, the imposing authority figures, the control, the agony, the rage. All of you, together.

They are the after. The gentle archdruid whittles you a cane imbued with healing magic. The elf says he will kill anyone who touches you again and you promise the same. Both of you are being slowly pieced back together. The wizard looks you in the eye and for once you don’t flinch away from being seen. You don’t trip over your words for fear of incurring wrath.

You begin to smile again. Then laugh. It startles you at first. You got so used to silence. Being surrounded by others doesn’t feel lonely anymore. They love you. Who you are is not repulsive to them.

The scars remain, but you have the warmth of a gentle hand to hold, now. Genuine smiles greet you. For the first time in years you feel there is a future full of beauty and wonder. It will be difficult. It will be fraught.

But you are not alone. None of you are. Not anymore.

[seasidesandstarscapes]

Writer's Tag Game

Tagged by @strangethings-everywhere & @effervescentyellow !!! finally catching up on tag games ;^_^

Rules: Answer some or all of the questions below. Tag your fellow writers. Enjoy!

Link to your masterlist: Lol i'm too lazy to make one, but my ao3 is pretty kept up to date!!!

Favorite and least favorite genres to write (angst/smut/fluff, etc): Favorite is probably Angst with a Happy Ending or Smut With Feelings. Love when the couple figures out just how much they love each other. I can never write Major Character Death tho. Or the times I have, it's been such a struggle;;;;

Favorite characters to write for? Right now it's been Don just because I think I relate to him in a lot of ways. Though Chuck and Roger have been fun!! trying to figure out their dynamics :d

Which one of your works is your favorite? I guess right now it's....the Hockey AU?? The response to it has been so wonderful and the story became so much more than I ever imagined it would be!!!

Which one of your works is more popular than you thought it would be? The Hockey Fic!!! I was worried I was smashing too many things into one fic, but it seems to have worked in the end??? and i keep getting more and more inspo to write for more of this AU which is so so good (thank you @sparrow-in-the-field >3<)

Which one of your works is less popular than you thought it would be? Idk??? just getting one hit on my stories astounds me so i'm never upset when something doesn't get as much attention as the others ajfskdslfs

Which one of your fics was hardest to write? Why? Definitely my Sci-Fi AU that i've yet to share. It's a labour of love and i just want it to be perfect for the fandom but also i've edited and reread it so many times i'm so worried it's not good anymore and ghfdjsfkslfsk

What is your favorite fanfic by someone else? THE TOUGHEST QUESTION CAUSE EVERYONE IN THE FANDOM IS SUCH AN AMAZING WRITER let me make a list under a readmore ahgdfjksl

@sparrow-in-the-field 's Quiet Act is ESSENTIAL for anyone in tbitb fandom, it has it all, the pining, the fluff, the angst, the perfect movie references, ugghhgfjdkl it's beautiful and such a good fic to start with if you're not sure where to begin with reading tbitb stuff

@teaforarteza 's On The Border gave me my first "oh. OH" at how perfect Bobby and Don are for each other, plus it's so hot and tender all at once HOW i have definitely had to reread and comment more than once just for my thoughts to catch up aghdfjsk

@arokel 's Light the Kindling is so much fun because we get to meet Percy who I'll protect with my life and we get such soft moments with Don and Bobby that also turn hot and sexy but still so filled with emotion ahhghgjdfskl

@kjxlll 's (getsalami on ao3) Hands, Tears, and Glory has me chomping at the bit every time I reread it. Anonymous sex that turns out "oh shit it's YOU" has a chokehold on me and godddd Bobby gets destroyed in so many delicious ways

@shadowquill17 's hands and voices makes me so weepy and soft and it's just so lovely and beautiful to have a glimpse of our boys after the olympics, when Bobby's assistant coach and he and Don are just so incredibly in love ahhhh

@thesummerpetsalamander 's (pavlovsfrog on ao3) The Sweetest Sounds is another hot one that also had me giggling and kicking my feet. Don and Bobby are so much fun in this modern AU and it's like hffjdsklfsd man oh man

@icegreyrose 's You Have But Slumber'd Here is so so good, I love magic realism and this story just pulls you in, always has a twist that shocks you in the best way and it's so cool and ahhghfjdk

@effervescentyellow 's Oh, But Honey had me in TEARS god so beautiful, it was nostalgic, relatable and just really digs in and nestles into your soul, i'm a constant puddle when I remember it

@kcsplace 's (CaseyStar on ao3) We'll Stay As We Are is gorgeous omgggg I was holding my breath, I was filled with heartache and love all at once, I was worried and reassured all at once, very cathartic if you need to get some emotions out

@dogwooddiaries 's (breakingofdawn on ao3) Undo Me IS AN AMAZING ROLLER COASTER you want a one night stand that turns into something more??? a friendship turned to love??? both Bobby and Don no longer able to deny their feelings for each other???? you got it all in one incredible fic

@borealopelta 's (zargothoraxcore on ao3) it always leads you to my hometown is heart-wrenching and hot and soft and devastating. You want the best and worst time (affectionate) of your life???? read this fic asap and cry with me

@strangethings-everywhere 's (booknerds_unite on ao3) When Our Fingers Touch, I Feel My Way Back Home IS ANOTHER ESSENTIAL FOR TBITB FANS tragic and heartwarming, it'll destroy you and lift you above mountains. And if you're a ww2 buff like me, it makes it all that more emotional and clawing at the ground as your heart bleeds

@crushribbons MY LOVE her xReader and xOFC fics are so much fun!!! i'll admit i've never been a fan of reader/ofc but Laney changed that for me just because her takes are so unique from what I've seen in the past??? Her stories make me laugh, make me emotional, ugghgh like if she can make me a changed man, then you KNOW it's good

of course i can't not mention @savvylittlecoxswain who has been our plethora of information regarding our boys, sharing all these fun facts and details the movie should've taken into account smh ALSO Olie has a wing fic in the works that I am SO EXCITED FOR YOU HAVE NO IDEA

Also please check out FreyasDaughter's From Berlin, With Love because that one is such a good instrospective take on the events in Berlin, a completely different writing style that's so cool, and Joe being the best boyfriend to Joyce I swear its ahhhh

fishyies is another great fic writer who's really tugged at the heartstrings , very real and raw and just makes you take a step back and breath

basically all this to say we have so many good fic writes in tbitb fandom and just choosing one fic is so hard because everyone's style is so unique and fun and amazing and i love you all ;v;

[petrichor-idyllic]

hey!! i love ur work. could u do hcs for the boys fighting for the readers attention?? 🫶🫶

Of course I can.

Pronouns weren't specified so gender-neutral reader.

GIVE ME ATTENTION

MASTERLIST | MULTI-CHARACTER MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. Gender-neutral! Reader x Glader boys.

You're the most popular Glader around, and it seems like all the boys have a thing for you, so, how would they get your attention?

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, dumb teenage boys, possessiveness and other slightly problematic themes (I don't condone but it's fiction).

THOMAS

Considering that Thomas moves at a million miles an hour and has Teresa (*cough* and Newt *cough*) as potential love interest(s), I don't think Thomas would actually fight for anyone's attention.

I know, I know, that defeats the point of the prompt.

But, if anything, especially in the books, Thomas is kind of actively trying to avoid attention.

And failing monumentally.

So, I think if he'd want your attention, he'd seek it out in private.

He wouldn't be the type to chase you around the Glade, pining for your attention.

He'd wait until there'd be a moment alone.

Maybe when you're enjoying your own company, chilling after a long day's work, Thomas would approach you.

And he'd get your attention that way.

In an intimate, one-on-one way.

Just simple conversation getting to know one another and some light, and kinda awkward flirting.

Which I guess is a good (and healthy) way to get someone's attention.

Good job, Thomas.

NEWT

Maybe it's because there isn't much romance in the series, but I can't see Newt fighting for attention in the traditional sense either.

He's the second in command and has enough on his plate.

I can, however, see him going out of his way to offer you more guidance.

Or he'd act nicer to you and let you get away with more stuff.

He'd probably give you gifts and convince Frypan to give you more food.

He'd basically use his influence over the Glade to give you an easier time.

It'd be subtle.

And you might not even realise he'd been doing it until you'd ask Minho or somebody and it'd get spilled.

That's probably when you'd develop an actual relationship.

MINHO

Now, unlike the previous boys, Minho absolutely would be the stereotype of dumb, slightly overly-cocky teenage boy trying to get his crushes attention.

He'd flex around you.

He'd crack more jokes than usual around you.

He'd also try and act cooler around you at the same time.

You'd "bump" into him at random occasions.

He'd tease and poke fun at the other Gladers to make himself seem better.

Though that being said, he would not be good at flirting.

It'd be the kind of cheesy flirting that would leave you rolling your eyes and having to stop yourself from laughing.

Though, if you'd ever flirt back, he'd lose his cool and be turned into a stuttering, flustered mess.

Not such a cool guy after all, huh?

GALLY

Gally would be a problem.

More of a problem than usual.

He'd get in fights and insult people in front of you to try and make himself seem seem tougher and more "manly".

Not attractive and definitely not healthy.

You'd often grace his presence and then someone else would end up bruised and bloody.

Alby hates you.

Even though you've done nothing wrong.

He'd also try extra hard at work around you.

Lifting heavier things, barking more orders and pushing himself to his building limits.

"Oh no, it's too hot doing all this manual labour- better take my shirt off" typa energy.

Definitely more of a physical attention seeker.

Though, I think that'd probably scare you off more than anything.

Or maybe not.

I don't know what you're into.

FRYPAN

You'd be well-fed, to say the least.

Fry would get your attention in a similar way to Newt.

By providing you with food and anything you need.

Though, he'd be more open and complimentary.

Despite popular belief, he'd probably be the best out of the boys when it'd come to flirting and making you notice him.

He's not shy, but he's not an idiot who succumbs to his emotions and starts acting really different because he has a crush.

He'd ask you what you'd want to eat.

You'd accidentally end up picking the meals for the Glade everyday.

People would start asking you to get Fry to make their favourite foods.

Like Gally, he'd put far more effort into his work.

But in a healthier way with less violence.

Definitely a sweetheart, and no threat.

Thank God.

ALBY

He simply would not.

Not even Movie! Alby.

Sorry.

Ahhh I'm back.

This definitely isn't my best work but I'm also working on part 2 for "on my own"- which is a lot of hard work because I have to actually follow the plot lmao.

Anyway, I hope you liked these dumb lil headcanons :))

[bloopitynoot]

Reading SVSSS: Chapter 3

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

oh, that's good, he's (Shen Qingqiu/Shen Yuan) not dead p135

also not related to my read, but this time I am actually writing at my table (instead of cocooned in a blanket on my couch) so hopefully these note are easier to read (Read: I am trying to have neater handwriting for ✨aesthetic✨). All I need with my notes, book, and tea is a candle and i'd be living my ancient academic fantasy.

If anyone wants to know this chapter is accompanied by a white tea that tastes like loquats. It's my favourite nostalgic tea. My family used to travel south when I was small and my grandparent's house there had a loquat tree. I haven't had loquats in over a decade (canada lol) but this tea tastes jut like them.

Anyways! Back to SVSSS!

Give me patience: the amount of dislike I have anytime Ming Fan is present p135

oh dang, this boy can cook! p138

Re: this boy can cook- Bye LOL "Luo Binghe's excellent cooking skills were his foremost lady-killing technique." p138

boo, I am upset that the Abyss scenario still needs to happen (But I get it, of course it can't be that easy- we do need plot for this book) p139

I can't XD he really is falling into the plot/character of Protagonists Love Interest. First the congee cooking and no the "Poison cure" p142

WAIT. THE CURE FOR THE POSION. wut p143

RE: WAIT: I am crying LOL

But like could he 👀 "Like, he knew that the going at it with the protagonist could have cured the poison, but like he could do that! Could he? Ha ha ha ha..." p145

Not Liu Qingge over here thinking Shen Qingqiu is possessed (not really wrong though) p147

once again we have Ming Fan -> honestly I would not be surprised if he ended up the new villain/scum character role p148 there is nothing likeable about him

this line is killing me "Shen Qingqiu was astoundingly oblivious to the fact that, thanks to the divine wingman abilities of his useless teammate, Ming Fan, Luo BInghe's favor has again risen to a new high" p.150

Oh god, he's in Luo Binghe's dream world. I am so nervous for this. p. 152

Dang. Why so many deductions for failure -1000 is a LOT for him p154

okay but this dream subplot is feeding my theory that Shen Qingqiu is switching character roles from villain to Love Interest p155

Oh no :( not his childhood bullies p160

omg and now his mom's death p161

Shen Qingqiu has been taking a constant beating for 164 pages- how is he not dead p164

LOL Shen Qingqiu really said "i'm not paid enough for this emotional labour" p167

Also Shen Qingqiu "I finished my friendship performance; I can finally leave work now" p169 what a vibe

Even the Dream Demon Lord is over how much Luo Binghe talks about Shen Qingqiu (p172)

uuuugh the foreshadowing RE: if you don't learn the demon path and the seal breaks you are basically fucked p.173

You tell that demon, Luo Binghe! RE: "right now, you are discussing terms with me, and you are free to say anything...but if you harm Shizun, any agreement is void!" p177

LOL "Aura of Badassery" p177

Shen Qingqiu after a very bad no good series of days "pls I dont want to see you omg leave me alone I am v tired" p179 this guy can't catch a break

The dichotomy of Shen Yuan acting in this though. Outward: I definitely can handle this. Inward: I'm so fucking scared, I do not got this. Is so real p180

Shen Qingqiu "I want this kid to remain optimistic and feel positive with his heritage (so he does not turn evil and mass murder me and everyone else)"Luo Binghe "I am going to be the strongest of strong possible so that I can protect Shen Qingqiu" p182

Oh gods, not him asking him to move in with him (to basically have a servant but like Luo Binghe has just had his entire life changed) p185

okay so age check- suddenly he's 15??? I thought this kid was 14 like 3 days ago?? p186

Points to Shen Yuan though for noting that how Luo Binghe was being treated was child abuse. p188

YAY! He's going to train with Meng Mo (also it made me laugh at how pissed Meng Mo is about not having the teacher title) p190

That's all for this chapter!

next one aiming for tomorrow :D

[bullet-prooflove]

The Backseat: Jack Hodgson x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989

When Jack first meets you it’s alongside a dead body on the beach. You’re eight months pregnant and he simply can’t take his eyes off you. You have this glow about you, a rosiness in your cheeks and brightness in your eyes that he can’t help but fall in love with. He has to help you up off the sand because once you’ve crouched down you can’t get yourself back up.

“First one?” He says to be conversational.

“My sister’s.” You explain, your palm coming to rest on the space where your nephew resides. “I’m a surrogate for her.”

It’s an open secret with the people you work with. There’s a running joke that you did it just for the maternity leave. The time off and none of the hassle but the truth is you’ll kind of miss not having him with you. You already know how tough it will be to hand him over despite the fact Diane and Ethan will make wonderful parents.

“That’s commendable.” Jack says as he helps you to your feet. “Not long to go now until you meet the wee fella.”

You end up in his immediate proximity, stomach bumping lightly against his as his firm hands come to rest on your shoulders, steadying you. You have the most beautiful eyes, he thinks as he looks down at you. For a moment he’s completely captivated and then that he realises his shoes are wet.

“Did your water just break?” He asks you as you look down at your damp trousers.

“Well you didn’t get me excited enough to wet myself.” You say with a sigh before unzipping your fleece and tying it around your waist to hide the staining.

“What are you doing?” He asks you as you remove your official notebook from your pocket and write something down. “We should be getting you to the hospital.”

“I’m not in active labour yet.” You reassure him, before taking out your phone and typing out a text to your DCI. “It’ll be at least an hour before they send someone along to relieve me, they’re short staffed as it is and we’re starting to lose the daylight.”

“So we’re just going to work until the baby makes an appearance?” He questions you as you gesture towards the corpses behind you.

“I told you I’m not in active labour, we’ve got some time.” You say mildly and Jack thinks you must be the most dedicated woman he’s ever met because anyone else would be losing their mind right now, especially with their first baby.

It takes an hour for Nikki and Velvy to get onto the scene and by that time your labour is well on the way, you’re having contractions every few minutes.

“I’m taking her to the hospital.” Jack tells them, handing over the forensics to Velvy. “The baby’s coming quicker than we thought.”

He doesn’t know when it became a ‘we’ but over the past hour he’s become highly invested in you and this baby. He thinks it was the moment you gripped his hand so hard during a contraction you almost broke his fingers. He knows that you’re alone right now, your sister is away in Belgium with her husband, a mini break before the baby arrived because Joshua, he’s due next month.

You don’t make it to the hospital. Jack ends up delivering baby Joshua on the hard shoulder of the motorway in the backseat of his car. Oddly it’s not the first baby he’s delivered but he hopes it’s the last.

“I thought we’d at least have to wait until the third date until we got to this point.” You tell him as he kneels between your legs and pulls on the spare set of latex gloves from his kit.

“This is one way of getting all that awkwardness out the way.” He says with a knowing smile.  “There’ll be time to get to all that fun stuff later.”

“Would this be the weirdest first date you’ve ever been on?” You ask him through gritted teeth as another contraction takes you.

“This is more like a work outing.” He remarks as he peers under the blanket he’s draped over you to preserve as much of your modesty as he can. “I’m going to need you to push with the next contraction, I can see the baby’s head.”

It’s all over and done with by the time the paramedics arrive. He follows the ambulance to the hospital, wondering how much it’s going to cost to get the back seat upholstered.

When he stops by your room it’s with a bag from the gift shop, a bunch of brightly coloured flowers and a helium balloon ‘that says it’s a boy’.

“Jack…” You say softly because you have the baby, resting against your chest. “You’ve already done enough.”

“Yea well, maybe I wanted to see this little guy again.” He tells you, chucking the babies chin. “See if I can persuade you to give him my namesake.”

“Sorry but my sister is firmly fixed on Joshua.” You murmur as the baby shifts against you. There’s  a moment of silence before he says.

“It’s going to be hard for you isn’t it? Handing him over.”

The edges of your mouth tip up into a sad smile as you look down at the baby in your arms.

“I wouldn’t be much of a mother.” You tell him, your thumb smoothing over the baby’s cheek. “I’ve been on the job too long, seen too much, done too much. The best I can do is be there for this little one if he needs me.”

“It’s the same way with my niece.” Jack tells you. “This world…”

The two of you have seen the worst of it, he doesn’t need to say anything else.

“After this…” Jack says gesturing to the hospital bed. “When you’re feeling better, I’d like to take you out, get to know you with your clothes on.”

You laugh then and it truly is just the most wonderful sound.

“I’d like that.” You tell him, your eyes flickering up to meet his as the baby starts to grumble. “I’d like that a lot.”

Love Jack? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[heyidkyay]

Oh my god now you’ve got the image of G and Birdie with a little baby girl into my head… you can’t not write it now! I’d love to see maybe them introducing their baby girl to the rest of the band… or anything else you can come up with 🤣

I guess I'll take this pain, instead of your name | The aftermath

A little snippet:)

--

My due date was March 23rd. Which meant that George would be getting quite the birthday present (if the baby had perfect timing) and that they’d most definitely be an Aries, which were two things I couldn’t quite get behind, but something G was ecstatic over. 

Matty had been hoping the little one would arrive a little late, two weeks late to be precise, just so that he could get one over on George and have the baby share something in common with him instead. He really had been an absolute sweetheart throughout the entire pregnancy, but my God was he pushing it trying to get me to extend the absolute hell I’d endured. 

I’d gone through almost every symptom pregnancy had to offer, from day one I’d felt absolutely vile and then when my second trimester had rolled round I’d had to deal with Braxton Hicks, an undeniable appetite (I’d felt like an actual monster), and dizziness that rivalled anything I’d ever felt before. Including the time when I’d been hit by a fucking car. 

Still, all of Matty’s efforts appeared in vain now seeing as though I went into labour on February 13th, five whole weeks before I was even due. 

To say I’d shit myself would have been an absolute understatement. I was fucking terrified to give birth, let alone that early, and to make matters worse, George had been set to play a show, which meant that he’d had no idea my water had broken until I was high as a kite on fucking gas and air, and he was finally off stage. But thankfully, I’d also been at work and Delia had been the one to walk me through the whole process, we’d headed straight to hospital, due to the fact that I should not have been going into labour this prematurely, but also because she was afraid I was going to give myself a sodding aneurysm simply down to the amount I was panicking. 

But who could blame me?

Anywho, the whole thing seemed a bit small in comparison to when I finally did give birth. We’d been blessed with a tiny, little baby girl- 7 lbs 4 ounces and with a head of thick unruly hair. But before George and I could even get a look in the doctor had told me to start pushing- again.

“They’re coming along quite quickly now, just a few more deep breaths.” 

“You what?” I ask the man in scrubs settled between my legs. Baffled wasn’t even a word I’d begin to use to describe the emotions that hit me right then, having thought I’d heard him wrong until I saw the alarming look on George’s face.

“We need you to push, you can already see baby’s head.” A midwife informs me, ushering George to once again take my hand, to comfort me. He does but he’s caught in a daze. 

“But, but I just did that bit.” I say, mostly stunned, delirious almost for a moment. 

“I know, and you did wonderfully. But baby two isn’t too far behind.” She replies, smiling down at me sincerely even as her attention diverts between a handful of other people stood in the delivery room. 

Her words seem to startle G back into reality, “Baby two? As in twins?”

“Twins! What the hell do you mean, twins?” I feel dizzy once more, head darting between the nurse beside me, G, and the doctor who’s seen a little too much of my insides for my liking. I think I start mumbling then, rambling off a ton of questions, a mile a minute, to anyone and everyone who will listen. Twins. “Are you sure? Twins?”

The nurse laughs, not unkindly, then nods, “Definitely sure, even saw it for myself.”

I’m still not really pushing, too confused, too stunned to really do much, in truth. “Are you having me on? Is this a prank?”

She appears to realise G and I aren’t messing about here and I watch on, frozen, as her whole demeanour shifts before my eyes, “Yes, sweetheart, twins. You really didn’t know?”

I shake my head and am just beyond grateful that George is here with me, holding my hand so tightly that I can truly feel it start to numb- because, what?

Things seem to take a turn then, the entire atmosphere in the room drops when beeping starts up and lights start flashing worryingly. The doctor at the other end of my bed is coaching me through it again, his voice high and harried almost, and I know then that something’s wrong and that it’s all my fault.

“What’s going on?” I ask, eyes immediately snapping over towards the nurse standing beside me but she’s gone, fiddling with the oxygen machine behind my head and then the heart monitor. “G, what- what’s happening? Are they okay? The baby. Are they?”

“You need to push. The baby is losing oxygen, we need to get them out as quickly as possible.”

My heart plummets. I start to panic. It’s my fault. My fault. I’m doing it wrong. I’m to blame. It’s all my fault. I’m messing up and they’re not even really here yet. I’m doing it all wrong.

“We need you to push harder.”

“Breathe.”

“Come on, mum. We need you to really push now.”

“That’s it.”

“Birdie, it’s alright. You’re okay, love. The baby is okay. You just need to push a bit more. Just a little longer, okay?”

I feel my head move- nod?- but the room is spinning, I reckon I’m screaming too. Sobbing, even. My mind so focused on the baby I hadn’t even known I’d been housing, let alone created. My baby. 

Two babies! Two.

I let out a loud groan. Barely even aware of the careful fingers on my temple. 

“Good girl, B.” George whispers to me, lips pressed against my cheek as he brushes hair from out of my face. “You’re doing so well. So good.”

I cry harder, I push harder.

Time seems to have stilled in its entirety, the minutes won’t move, the seconds don’t count. I am lost in this moment, my mind screaming at me to just try harder. 

“And it’s a boy!” I finally hear and then I’m weeping again, crying and clinging to George before he too is dragged away from me by nurses to cut the umbilical cords. I stare up at the ceiling, unable to do much else, chest heaving, thick tears streaming down my cheeks, and all I hear is an overwhelming buzz. The kind I’d grown so used to, starting in my left ear before it soon echos in my right. Jumping, back and forth.

“A boy, Birdie. A boy and a girl.”

I blink and George is there again, hovering over me. He takes my face in his careful hands and holds me so close that we are nose to nose. I realise then he’s crying too.

“Twins.” I whisper breathlessly, every inch of me burns, but I itch to get up, to move and see them.

“Twins.” George repeats with just as much disbelief. “Twins, B. Ours.”

A baby boy, he’d told me. A tiny thing, so full of surprises. He was born smaller than his sister, an even 6 lbs and only ten minutes behind, but his eyes are unlike anything I’ve ever seen, huge and so very innocent, placed between a scattering constellation of tawny freckles that dot his cheeks and kiss his lids. 

A girl and a boy. All ours. 

I’d been taken with them both the moment I’d set my sights on them, ‘the twins' people had dubbed them. ‘Let’s go see the twins!’ ‘The twins are finally crawling!’ ‘Somebody grab a camera, the twins are being cute again!’

Never did I ever believe I’d have a family of my own, let alone a husband or these two beautiful beings that always seemed to stare back up at me with an incredible amount of innocence. It stirs something deep within me each time they do, both the thought and the very sight of them, and when their tiny little hands wrap their way around my fingers I know that I’ll never feel this type of love again. I don’t think I could even begin to describe it.

They are beautiful and they are ours, and I know from the very bottom of my heart that I will protect them until the day that I die. Because, how could I not?

How could anyone not?