#and without context that would be really very confusing

[sysig]

Enecomimi Banzaiiii (Patreon)

[screambirdscreaming]

Something that peeves me whenever I see another post going around with some variation on "autistic people take things literally which means we are the only people who communicate Clearly and Directly" is that - for any given statement, there is not one singular, agreed on, universal Literal Interpretation. If there was, none of this would be a problem!

The nature of language is that there's always some degree of interpretability. Words have several different meanings, often overlapping, and there's nuance of context, cultural references, and so on.

Faced with a statement, most people will quickly come up with an interpretation that to them makes the most sense. But if you asked a roomful of people to explain in detail their interpretations, everyone's would probably be a little different, even for a pretty simple statement. Regardless of whether those people are autistic! Everyone conceptualizes the world a little differently, and everyone has a unique personal history of all the language they've encountered, and these things effect our interpretations.

In order for communication to be workable, given this slosh in interpretability, there's another couple of processes that go on. As conversation goes on, people reassess if their initial interpretation matches up with additional context. If it doesn't, they revise it, or ask clarifying questions. And on the flipside of this process, the other person in conversation is tracking if your reactions make sense with *their* understanding of what they're trying to convey to you, and offering context or rephrasing things if it seems you're out of alignment.

These processes are social skillsets that are, like most social skillsets, not ever directly articulated or explained. Many people are bad at one or both. Sometimes you encounter someone who is really, notably good at it - the vaunted "good listener", who puts in the effort to really understand what you're trying to say, or that really excellent teacher who engages with you back and forth until you really get it. But a lot of the time, it's a sort of passive social friction - people just not getting each other.

Sometimes, you encounter someone whose brain works so much like yours that talking to them feels almost effortless - you just get each other. But that's a pretty rare occurrence for anyone. More often, as you get to know someone, you start to understand the shape of the way they interpret things and learn to account for it, so over time it's easier to make sense to each other.

It's honestly not uncommon in society for people to aggregate in groups of people who interpret things similarly, and who are thus easier to talk to, rather than actually building the skills of communicating across interpretation gaps. Particularly egregious are those groups of men who talk about Women as an incomprehensible monolith, but it turns up to a greater or lesser degree on a lot of levels.

I suspect this is the root of a lot of parenting problems - people who have never built this communication skillset, and relied on choosing friends who make sense to them without a lot of effort, and who are then totally unprepared to interact with a child who interprets things in ways they don't expect.

Obviously I can't speak to The Universal Typical Experience, not least because it doesn't exist. But in general I would posit that:

Most people, give or take a few assholes, are not trying to say things that are confusing. Most people think they are communicating clearly, because the first interpretation *they* would come up with on hearing one of their own sentences is the correct interpretation.

Many people are not very good at accounting for different ways people could interpret things they're saying. However, it is normal and polite social behavior to be somewhat flexible about this and forgiving of misunderstandings. If people are being shitty to you about not understanding them, they are assholes. And I wouldn't assume that the rest of the communication they have with everyone else they know goes totally smoothly for them.

I suspect there is a bit of an unfortunate feedback loop, where people have bad experiences when someone gets mad at them for not getting something, and learn to hide when they're confused. Which then leads to larger, more complicated misunderstandings, which other different people get upset at them about, because those people think they should have asked for clarification in the first place.

Truly you can't win with everyone. No one can win with everyone. There is no monolith of "neurotypical communication" which resolves all these contradictions - all those people you're lumping in together under "neurotypical" have just as much trouble with each other.

[gothwineaunts]

Well hello there, readers!!

So, I have been lurking on our socials and in the webtoon comments of Nevermore's finale episode and have picked up some very subtle hints that y'all want to know when we're going to drop Season 2. Firstly I do want to let all the smarties who guessed we'd come back on Halloween based on our Ulalume quote know that they were onto something. When we originally left that hint for you, we were indeed planning to return in late October, but some unforeseen setbacks over the summer pushed our production schedule back. Still, I wanted to say congratulations for getting the hint right! We were impressed so many of you figured it out.

As for the updated launch of season two? While I don't have a specific date to share yet, I can tell you it'll be in January.

I know, I know. Trust me, I wish it was sooner too. I can't tell you how much Flynn and I miss updating weekly. Y'all make creating this series so exciting for us with your energy and excitement and creativity!! The talent I've seen in this community is off the charts. We feel unspeakably lucky to have readers like you along for the ride, and can't wait for you to see the episodes we've been working on.

If you're new to Flynn and I, it might not be common knowledge that we always do the absolute most all the time, compulsively, without stopping ever (save us, ahahhaa). And let me assure you that the opening episodes of season two? Are very most. A lot of most. Super long. Really, extra pretty. I wish I could post them now but I think webtoon might um. Be upset with me if I did that, so. Just trust me, ok? One thing I can share in th emeantime is some of the S2 character concepts. A few characters are getting minor glow ups. See if you can spot the differences!

Okay, well! We'll see you in January!! Or before, if you hang around our socials. I mean we're not disappearing. We'll be here, just. Plodding along on buffer in the background. If you're dying to spoil yourselves with wip streams you can hit up our patreon but I almost wouldn't recommend it on account of. You'll be so confused, at this point. Lmfao. Like. Wow, it would be a really weird time to join a wip stream with no context. This sounds like a shameless plug but I'm being serious when I say it's probably best you don't hop in at this particular moment?? But I mean. I'm not a cop. I'm just your weird goth wine aunt. 🍷

Cheers, Kit Trace

[hello-eden]

Unexpected Hope

Damian has been disoriented all week. When he was told that stopping the ritual would have repercussions, he did not expect this. He had been dealing with the memories on his own but unfortunately he could not postpone this gala. 

He had been stopping a ritual that would end up summoning the being he now knows as Undergrowth. Damien does not regret that choice especially now that he has the context. Unfortunately it brought back his memories of Phantom.

He didn't quite understand they were memories for quite a while honestly he was a little bit concerned he got possessed. Thankfully after some compartmentalizing and a little bit of isolation, he figured out what was wrong. It did not help the confusion that comes with being a Midwestern teen and an assassin child put into one body but he has gotten the hang of it. 

Unfortunately Damian did not get long before he was forced back into the presence of his family. he had put off many public family events in the last few months so he was not able to get out of this event. he probably could have faked being sick but he'd much prefer to be able to pass off any of his symptoms from the memories as uncomfortableness being around strangers then be alone with his family. 

He's honestly very happy with his choice after he sees her. He doesn't recognize her at first with the dark auburn braided hair and the dress being something other than black but something made him turn around when he heard her rant.

She was giving a humanitarian speech to one of the investors. At first he got closer just to hear about it. It's always funny to see the faces of the imbeciles when people don't bow to their wishes.

Damien thought he finally found someone who was not a gold digger or a social climber. What made him really stop in his tracks was her body language. It was like a neon flashing sign opened up and said ‘hey this is Sam Mason’. 

Damien walked over with hope in his chest that he was not alone. she eventually seemed to get tired of the man or maybe he was able to scramble an excuse and walk away. he couldn't quite hear but by the time he walked over there it was only her.

 “you seem to be quite passionate,” Damian says, trying to start a conversation and figuring out how to ask the hard question.

 What is he exactly supposed to say? ‘Hey, are you my best friend for my last life or hey do you remember being on my ghost hero vigilante team that ended up with all of us being Undead royalty.’

The girl looks him over, probably trying to figure out what he wants. 

“Are you here to argue?” She says angrily, obviously ready for another fight.

“Your speech reminds me of someone, have you ever heard of Samantha Mason” Damien says trying to be nonchalant.

Her eyes seem to widen and look him over again.

“Where'd you hear that name.” She ordered.

“I've heard enough of her rants to be able to pick it out from a crowd.”

 “Danny,”  She said softly her grabbing his hands and squeezing as she looked around to make sure no one saw. “what how I thought it was the only one” Hope seemed to be filling her eyes. 

“Hi Sam” Damien Whispers just as softly just as glad he is not alone. 

Without another word Sam drags them to the stairway rushing up to the floor upstairs and trying to find a room that isn't being used. She eventually finds one two floors above the room they were using for the gala and pushes him into what looks like a break room.

 “How the hell did you get your memories” Sam demands 

“Why are you yelling at me? You have your memories too obviously if you are recognizing your name” Damian says shouting back at her. 

Sam always has a way of catching him off guard. She was happy just a minute ago. 

“yeah well I did something stupid which means I know you did something stupid” Sam said pointing her finger at him.

“ Well I may have accidentally stumbled upon a ritual for summoning an ancient and when I stopped it the backlash gave me my memories back. ” Damien stumbled over their words trying to justify themselves. "What stupid thing did you do?”

“The girls in my stupid Prep School in my grade went through a very witchy phase. there was a slumber party and they were stupid enough to actually find real magic. I had a cut on my hand earlier in the day and try to freak them out by adding a little bit of my blood. apparently my protection spell is literally stuck into my soul, so things went down” Sam says just as hesitantly as Damien

 “you have zero leg to stand on okay fine we were both stupid” 

They both sat there in silence for a while, mostly just basking in each other's presents realizing they weren't alone anymore.

“it's good to have you back," Damian says, giving her a weak smile and running his hands through his hair.

He'd been trained out of all of his nervous ticks but it probably makes her more comfortable to see him just as nervous as she is.

“it's good to see you too da- do you have the same name?” both of them don't seem to realize at the same time that they didn't get each other's names. 

“Damien” he says as he pulls his hand out of his hair and puts his hand out for a handshake. 

“Sarah” she says, grabbing his hand and giving it a shake.

the two of them shake their hand for a moment before they look at each other's eyes and burst out giggling. 

Damien's really glad he decided to not pretend to be sick.

[angel-in-your-basement]

It’s wild that you’re not OK with age play but you’re OK with saying that assault is a kink …. rape is not a kink! Why do so many people not understand that it’s CNC or it’s assault? Do y’all just do this for attention or what because I’m really confused on why you would think such a terrible thing could be considered a kink. Coming from someone that was raped before I was even five years old.. I just don’t think that we should sit here and act like rape is ever OK. like I said you’re looking for the term CNC, not rape. please stop contributing to men thinking rape is OK because they’re out here assaulting people in the real world when y’all do shit like this making it seem okay when it’s not. whether you think your little dumb posts are contributing to real world assaults or not, they absolutely are.

Hi there,

I can see you’re feeling really triggered by this, and I am going to explain my thinking, but first, I want to gently encourage you to take some time to self-soothe and take care of yourself, because engaging with this in a state of heightened emotion is not going to make you feel good.

I am answering this now out of the understanding that you are hurting, and this may be a good opportunity to share my perspective on these ideas, but I’m not going to answer any further asks about this. I don’t come on here to debate things.

Anyways, if you, or anyone else is interested in my take on this, here it is under the cut.

I’m going to address a couple different things here, with a reminder that is my perspective, and you absolutely don’t have to agree.

1. “You’re not okay with age play”

I actually am okay with age play, and there are some aspects that I, myself, enjoy. The reason it’s in my DNI is not bc of the kink itself, but bc of how much shit I’ve seen on tumblr of people actually being under age or seeking out under age people and using that type of tag/fantasy/etc. to do it, and I want nothing to do with that entire side of tumblr, as much as I can avoid it. Undoubtedly, there are people on here that are into age play that do so in consensual, risk-aware ways, and I support that, but I don’t actually engage with it online bc of what I said before.

2. “Rape is not a kink / it’s cnc or it’s assault”

So, we agree on this, except on the semantics of the language. Part of kink is exploring shameful and taboo topics in a safe, consensual way. It’s important to understand the limits of where play can become harm, absolutely, but I think that is very individual, and nitpicking how other people explore with no understanding of why they might be doing that is not productive.

With that understanding, it doesn’t make sense to me to say “well it’s okay if someone wants to be held down and have someone hurt them and not stop even if they say no, but they can’t say the word ‘rape’.” Language does matter, but it becomes counterproductive if we spend too much time prioritizing semantics over context and meaning. I prioritize safety, curiosity and connection, because that is what kink is about to me. I feel secure in myself that I can explore these dark fantasies without harming myself or other people, and that doing so is healthier than shaming myself for it.

3. “Do you do this for attention?”

I’m going to gently remind you here that I am also a person, who has my own set of trauma and bad experiences, and who chooses to process them in the way I choose to process them. I created this blog as a space to express myself in ways that I generally don’t get to in real life, because it’s not socially acceptable to talk about the scary/dark/repulsive thoughts that we all experience.

We are so conditioned to feel shame, and to shame others, and shame causes more damage than anything else does in humans, in my experience. Shame doesn’t make people change, it just makes them isolate and repress themselves, which leads to them dealing with their thoughts, emotions and urges in unhealthy ways. I choose to acknowledge the darker parts of people, and to be open about it so that we can learn to deal with it in healthier ways.

And yes, I do enjoy the attention, and I enjoy that people enjoy the content I create.

4. “You are contributing to real world assaults”

My question with this statement is basically: where do we draw the line? If I made the exact same posts and never used the word “rape”, would that make it okay? If I put a disclaimer on every single post, would that at all discourage someone who already thinks it’s okay to do these things without consent? Should I post about cnc at all, knowing it may be feeding into someone’s shitty ideas about the world? How much responsibility is on me, specifically, to prevent people from being assaulted?

Basically, it’s an endless rabbit hole. We have no control over other people. I choose not to take on the burden of feeling like it is my job to be perfect so that I never contribute to anything bad happening, because that is impossible. Instead, I choose to focus on the good I put into the world, and what feels good for me so that I can continue putting good into the world.

More importantly, if you want to make change in something as huge and pervasive as sexual assault, is your energy best spent lashing out at random people online? Or is it finding ways to help yourself heal, so that you don’t hurt yourself and other people? What about finding ways to support people who have through similar experiences? Or working through activism to support changing the systems at large?

I am very satisfied with the ways in which I put good into the world through educating people, supporting people and doing my best to be authentic. I have made a lot of meaning out of my suffering by helping other people.

If you genuinely want to make things better, find better ways to do it.

[drmaddict]

Pet dates

Summary: When Theo took a cat into his dormitory one evening, he didn't expect to wake up next to a girl the next morning. (Y/n), who was walking around the school in her Animagus form, didn't really expect to be used as a teddy bear that night either.

Wordcount: 3.748

I taped quietly through the nightly corridors of Hogwarts. As an Animagus, I enjoyed the freedom of not being noticed. Another cat in the corridors. Who would even waste a glance? I was enjoying the darkness of the night with my adjusted eyes when I saw three figures. They came closer quietly.

"Shh!", one of them hissed.

"Hey, you had to sneak into the library, didn't you?", hissed the next one.

I recognized Draco Malfoy first. His light-colored hair was immediately noticeable. Then Mattheo Riddle and Theodore Nott.

Draco and Mattheo walked past me, but Theodore stopped.

"Hello there.", he whispered and held out his hand to me. "Come here piccola bellezza."

"Dude, leave the cat alone and come here.", Draco hissed.

Theo ignored him and stroked my head with his fingertips. Out of instinct, I began to purr.

To be honest, I don't get touched very often. Neither as a cat, nor as a human. Theodore smiled. "Have you been locked out?" He stroked my back with just the right amount of pressure. "It's far too cold out here. Come on. It's warm in our dorm."

Still completely caught up in the pleasure of his touch, I reacted too late. I found myself pressed against his chest. Most girls would kill for this opportunity. Maybe I would too, but somehow you imagine this in a different context.

Theodore caught up with the other two.

Draco just rolled his eyes, but Mattheo looked at me closely. A grin stretched across his face as he looked me straight in the eye, as if he knew exactly who I was. "Interesting.", he whispered.

"What?", Theodore asked, confused.

Mattheo bent down to my eye level. "Come on then, little mouse.", he grinned.

I wriggled against the iron grip around me. "Stop that! You're making her nervous.", Theodore grumbled.

"Guys, can we please go now?" growled Draco, annoyed. The three of them started moving again.

"What is it with you and cats anyway?" Draco asked into the silence.

"They're cats.", Theodore replied, as if that explained everything.

When the three of them arrived in their common room, Theodore sat me down on his bed. Blaise Zabini was lying on the opposite one, leafing through a book. He raised a well-formed eyebrow.

"Weren't you going to get a book?"

"Shut up.", grumbled Theodore.

"Theo just picked up a little girlfriend on the way.", grinned Riddle. "That's nothing new."

I gave him a dirty glare. Somehow the bastard knew exactly, who I was.

I jumped off the bed and went to the door. I scratched at it and meowed angrily, but Theodore just grabbed me again and sat me on the bed.

"It's all right. Nothing will happen to you here."

I exhaled in annoyance. Riddle reached for me with one hand, grinning, but I immediately slapped his hand away.

"Ow!" he hissed and stuck his bleeding finger in his mouth. "You little-"

I instinctively stood up to my full height and hissed at him.

Theodore pushed him away from me.

"She scratched me!", Riddle hissed.

"You scared her." grumbled Theodore.

Turning to his bed, he pulled his shirt over his head and let his pants slide to the floor.

I quickly turned to the wall and looked at the green fabric of the four-poster bed. The world was unfair. The guy didn't have one bloody flaw.

I heard Riddle snicker. Asshole.

Theodore lay down under the covers. Without a warning, he pulled me against him like I was a teddy bear. He stroked my stomach slowly. I let out a surrendered breath. I didn't even notice that I was falling asleep from the gentle caresses.

The next morning, I woke up to someone stroking my head.

"Morning Bella.", someone whispered.

My brain kick-started. I was in Theodore Nott's bed. He was still holding me. I was - thank God - still a cat.... I hadn't slept this well in a long time.

But I'd never slept as a cat either, so that was probably it.

Theodore stroked my stomach in slow circles. The purring immediately started again. I looked at him. He was smiling gently. I didn't really know him, but he always seemed so cold in the corridors. Very different from now. He closed his eyes and continued to run his fingers through my fur.

I was too rarely really touched not to enjoy this.

I allowed the caress and closed my eyes until Riddle's voice rang out.

Whereupon a scream was heard. Theodore's scream.

I felt my body expand.

I looked into Theodore's horrified face.

I looked around in panic. Riddle laughed. "There are spells that can force an Animagus back into its human form."

I glanced at Theodore again before running off frantically. As soon as I opened the door, I sprinted back through the corridors in cat form.

I felt like throwing up.

Theo's POV

I was still looking after the girl in shock.

We had potions together. I didn't know her name though. Mattheo was still laughing.

"You knew that?", I snapped at him.

He just shrugged and threw himself back into bed. "You seem to have acted with mutual consent."

I threw my alarm clock at him.

(Y/n)s POV

"Where have you been?", Jenny asked me, as I walked into our common room.

"Nowhere.", I said way too quickly.

"But-"

"Nowhere!", I babbled frantically and immediately locked myself in the bathroom.

Now everyone will know. I ruffled my hair. I had always kept the authorization for the Animagus a secret. It should remain a secret. God, they're all going to shoot their mouths off. The little freak who clings to the school crush par excellence and crawls into his bed without hin knowing.

I forced myself to take a deep breath.

Bloody hell.

I skipped breakfast. As small as I could, I sat down in Potions class and looked at my book.

I heard everyone filling the room, but continued to not look up. I breathed a sigh of relief when Snape finally walked into the room in his usual dramatic fashion.

"You will form groups today."

I looked dully at the blackboard. Was he serious?

He called out the pairs stoically.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N). Theodore Nott."

Was he fucking serious?

I buried my face in my hands. What had I done? What did I do to deserve this?

I heard a pile of books being dropped on the desk.

I looked up into Theodore Nott's usual cold face. My face felt incredibly hot.

Snape explained the day's task and then sat down at his desk.

Silently, I began sorting the ingredients.

Theodore skimmed over the instructions.

"Can you please not tell anyone?", I whispered.

He didn't respond. I sighed. "I dont want to push you... But that I'm an Animagus... Only I knew that until yesterday."

He grumbled.

"I wanted to leave, but you wouldn't let me.", I grumbled back.

"Because I thought you were a cat.", he hissed.

"Why are you taking some stranger's cat with you anyway?"

He faltered. "None of your business."

I sighed in annoyance and turned up the flame.

"Was it that bad?", he grumbled quietly.

"What?"

"Lying in my bed with me."

I glanced at the kettle. "No." I admitted.

He stirred like the instructions said. "We're good at keeping our mouths shut. So don't worry."

I looked at his cold face. How could he be so different to the boy this morning? That warm and relaxed smile.

"Thank you.", I whispered.

I sprinted through the corridors as fast as my paws could carry me. That damn Miss Noris had it in for me.

I whizzed around the corner and immediately collided with a pair of legs.

I heard the cat behind me. I stood up and hissed at her.

"Go on. Go away.", said the owner of the legs and gently shooed her away.

Miss Noris gave me another challenging look and then slunk around the corner.

Theodore sighed. He glanced toward me. "(Y/n)?", he asked cautiously.

I nodded.

"Being a cat, you sure do pick fights, don't you?"

I grumbled. I didn't start it.

He smirked. "Don't get caught away."

His hand moved to my head, but stopped in mid-motion. He stretched his fingers once and pulled them back towards him. "See you."

I could feel myself wanting that touch. Even though I couldn't say why, I was far braver as a cat than as a human. So I trotted past him and stroked his legs once. A few steps away, I stopped again and looked at him. A small smile appeared on his face.

He shook his head at me. "We'll keep this between us," he murmured.

I nodded and walked back towards my common room. I tried to ignore the tingling sensation on my head.

The next day, Theodore suddenly sat down next to me in Potions. I looked irritatedly from him to his clicke and back again.

"Hi.", he just said and put his books on the table.

"Uhh... Hi.", I faltered.

He looked straight at me and leaned slightly towards me. "If I'm wrong, just forget it and pretend I never said anything.", he started. I nodded hesitantly. In a whisper, he continued. "You seem to like it when people... pet you.", he began.

I nodded. "I think we'd both benefit from seeing each other... meet like this more often.", he mumbled.

I looked at him, confused. "You want... What, petting dates?", I asked.

"Forget it.", he grumbled and tried to get up, but I held him by his sleeve.

"Now wait a minute. I'm just surprised.", I explained. He sat down again. I played with my quill. "I don't think I'd mind, but why don't you just get a cat... Well, if you like them so much."

"I'm not allowed.", he explained curtly.

"Oh."

"Yup."

I prepared my roll of parchment. "When do you want to start?"

I noticed his shoulders relax slightly. Today at seven. Come to the library. I'll sit at the back."

I nodded as Snape came bounding through the door.

I crept through the library, keeping an eye out for Theodore.

Hidden at the very back, he was sitting and flicking through a book, bored.

I jumped onto the table next to him and looked at the manuscript. He flinched slightly, when I landed next to him. "Hi," he whispered. He pointed to his scarf, which he had provisionally draped into a small bed. "Make yourself comfortable."

I lay down hesitantly on the green fabric. I pulled it here and there to make myself comfortable. When I was satisfied and lay down, I noticed Theodore grinning at me and shaking his head slightly. I grumbled slightly. He put his hand on my head and started to run it through my fur. I immediately started purring. He applied the perfect amount of pressure again. I closed my eyes in pleasure and let my limbs grow heavy.

"So we can do this more often?", he asked softly. I nodded and let out a small gasp. I lazily opened one eye. He had rested his head on his hand and was looking relaxed at me. I let myself fall onto my side and continued purring to myself.

We met up more often since then. Sometimes even just like that. Without fur. He had immediately made it clear that he only wanted to be called Theo when I had first spoken to him. Now we were sitting in the three brooms, drinking butterbeer.

"Don't you want to join your friends?" I asked.

He waved me off. "Oh Draco's studying to beat Granger today. Blaise has a date and Mattheo... I don't want to know."

He took a big sip from his glass.

"What do you actually get out of these meetings?" I asked him.

He shrugged his shoulders. "It relaxes me.", he admitted. "Most people just want sex."

I let my fingers scratch his scalp once. His ears turned red. I grinned. "Do you want to swap roles?"

He remained silent. "It wouldn't be a problem.", I mumbled. "Quit pro quo.", I shrugged.

He held on to his glass. "Would you?", he asked, looking stubbornly at the table.

"Sure.", I said, shrugging my shoulders.

He downed the rest of his beer and stood up. He held his hand out to me. "You coming?"

I let him pull me along.

He poked his head into the bedroom and exhaled with relief. Quickly, he pushed me inside. No one was there. He waved his wand and the curtains of his bed were already drawn. We sat down behind the curtains. I leaned back against the headboard and looked at Theo, waiting. He cast a silencing spell on the bed before lying down hesitantly on the pillow. I stroked his thick curls. He exhaled calmly and just let himself be pampered. It was unusual, but... nice.

Theo's POV

I was already poking around in my food, bored, when Mattheo sat down next to me on the bench.

"Tell me, when do you actually fuck each other?", he grinned.

I looked at him blankly. "Who are you talking about?"

Mattheo shook his head in amusement. "Well, your kitten."

I furrowed my eyebrows in irritation.

"Are you stalking me?"

Mattheo was still shoveling his food onto his plate with amusement. "You forget I know what goes on with people in here." He tapped his own forehead and grinned. "The little one has the hots for you. Even if she doesn't really know it herself yet."

He leaned his head on one hand. "But you're no better."

My hand closed convulsively around my fork. Anger bubbled up inside me. "You swore you'd stay out of our heads."

"I can't always completely suppress it.", Mattheo shrugged. "But you're into each other. In a weird beastly way." He shoved pumpkin paste into his mouth. "Why don't you make some cute little kittens then?"

I spat at him. "If you ever get lost in my head again, I'll make sure you can never grasp even a simple thought of yourself ever again." I stood up jerkily and left the Great Hall.

What was that even supposed to mean (Y/n) fancies me? We were... Friends? Damn we were friends. I liked her. Because we were friends. How by Merlin's fucking beard did that happen?

(Y/n)s POV

Theo was avoiding me. Had been all week. I didn't know if I'd done anything wrong, but he was avoiding me.

I was walking through the library to check out a potions book when I saw him between one of the back shelves. I stopped with a jolt. He had a girl pressed up against the shelf. He was literally devouring her. As quickly as possible, I turned around and left, but not without catching my bag on the shelf and catapulting a handful of books onto the floor.

They fluttered around until they were put back in their places.

I looked into the expressionless face of Theo and the grinning face of a blonde Ravenclaw girl.

"Sorry.", I babbled and disappeared as quickly as I could.

He could have just said he was seeing someone. Damn it, I really didn't insist that we see each other. After all, he had started the whole thing. I sat down defiantly in the courtyard. That we could become friends? But... Hadn't we become friends somewhere?

I sighed. Maybe I was just imagining it.

I was trotting through the corridors when I heard him.

"Hey.... Hey wait a minute! Damn it, stop!"

I sprinted on, but somehow Theo caught up with me. He quickly picked me up and hugged me to him. He held my front and back paws in one hand each so that I couldn't scratch him. I wriggled around wildly in his arms.

"No, you're coming with me now.", he scolded.

He carried me into the dungeon to his dormitory and threw me roughly onto his bed. He breathed in and out heavily from the effort of holding me down. I did the same. My ears were pinned back and I glared at him angrily.

"Everyone out!", he ordered without looking at anyone in the room.

They left the dormitory grumbling. I made a dash for the open door, but Theo immediately held me down. "Don't even think about it.", he hissed.

I hissed back. What the fuck was that about?

He didn't want to talk to me anymore.

The door closed. I sat petulantly on the bed.

"Now... Become a fucking human being! I want to talk!"

All of a sudden he wanted to talk. He ignored the fact that I even existed for two weeks and suddenly he wanted to talk.

I turned my back to him and flattened my ears.

"I'm sorry, okay?", he groaned, annoyed.

I didn't move.

He walked around the bed to look at me. He squatted down in front of me.

"I've been thinking," he said angrily. "Damn I'm not used to this friendship crap!"

I continued to sulk.

"Especially not with girls." He sat down on the floor. "It's unusual and scares me." A pout now appeared on his face too. "With girls, I usually only want sex and not... the rest." He got quieter and quieter.

I looked at him in surprise.

He buried his face in his hands. "Could I speak to a human now, please?"

I let myself change into my human form.

"What does that mean exactly?", I asked, looking down at him.

He looked stubbornly at the edge of the bed. "Probably that I want a relationship.", he said, as irritated as if he could hardly believe it himself.

"With me?", I asked, confused.

He looked at me as if I was dumb. "Of course with you! With who else?"

"No idea! Maybe Miss Ravenclaw." I threw my hands up in the air, annoyed.

"Are you jealous?"

"No.", I pouted.

"You're jealous."

"I'm not jealous."

"She's jealous!", Mattheo shouted from the other side of the door.

I growled, annoyed. "How-"

"He can read minds... by nature."

"That damn-"

"Hey! Concentrate!" He pulled my face towards him. His hands were warm on my cheeks. "If you're jealous, it's probably because you don't find the idea so far-fetched."

"Maybe." I mumbled and looked into his blue eyes.

"Possibly.", he nodded. He pushed me onto the bed and himself on top of me. His lips met mine hard. Large hands slid over my body with determination. Overwhelmed, I reached into his hair and tried to keep up with him. It was no secret that he was experienced. You could guess that I wasn't. He let his mouth wander to my neck, held my jaw gently but firmly to get a better grip on my throat and licked over the main artery, which was pulsating fast and furiously. I closed my eyes in pleasure and a soft moan escaped me.

The door pushed open. "Dude I'm not waiting for you to finish here now." Draco Malfoy walked towards his desk. "I have to study.", he clarified. Theo rolled his eyes. I fought my way back to clear thoughts.

"About time.", Zabini said dryly and lay back down on his bed.

Theo reached for his wand and the curtains closed immediately. This was followed by a silencing spell.

He looked me straight in the eye.  "I don't know how relationships work.", he admitted. "But I'm a quick learner."

I smirked. "I wouldn't know either." I closed my eyes in embarrassment. "I don't even know how..."

Theo's hand went back to my jaw. "I'll show you.", he sighed and lunged at my neck again.

I plucked grumpily at my collar. Theo grinned. I glared at him. He grinned wider.

Makeup with 100% coverage was all over my neck and the dark marks were still visible.

He had casually thrown an arm around me as we walked to Potions together. His mask once again completely the serene Theodore Nott that everyone knew.

His fingers ran over my neck.

"Don't do that," I grumbled.

"You liked it yesterday.", he grinned.

I poked him in the ribs.

"YES!" someone shouted in the corridor. "No Potions today!"

Draco, who was walking ahead of us, stuffed his notes into his pocket, annoyed. "If anyone's looking for me, I'm sleeping in until Monday.", he announced, shuffling down the corridor to the common room. The boy had been studying all night. The dark shadows lay heavy under his eyes.

"Early weekend.", Theo sighed, continuing to stroke circles over my neck.

Less than an hour later, we were sitting in the Slytherin common room. Theo was sitting in one of the wing chairs with his legs up, enjoying the warm fire. With his eyes closed, he stroked my fur lazily. I was curled up on his chest, my head in the crook of his neck, purring happily to myself.

Bonus Fluff

Draco and Zabini were once again arguing as only the two of them could. Theo was sitting on his bed and I was on his lap.

I curled up and let myself be stroked. My cat instincts were on fire today.

I smelled her on his fingers. This little one from Ravenclaw. They had played Quidditch against each other. Slytherin had won.

She had hugged him and grabbed his hand. Her scent was there. It wouldn't go away.

"What are you doing?", Theo asked suddenly. I licked his hand and couldn't stop. He belonged to me. He didn't have to smell like anyone else. "Hey, don't do that. That tickles." He tried to pull his hand away, but I nibbled on his finger. "Hey no teeth!" He pulled his hand away in a flash. I growled.

Behind me, Mattheo laughed. "Your little flea slinger is jealous. You reek of someone else."

I took advantage of the brief second Theo was inattentive and latched onto his arm. I immediately rubbed my head against his hand. "Are you marking me right now?", he asked incredulously.

I growled again. Yes, I was jealous. So what? I nibbled on his little finger again. He sighed and lifted me to his chest. A mistake. His neck smelled like her too. I immediately licked it. "Hey!" He tried to push me away, but I clawed at his shirt. "Claws! Claws!" he shouted frantically and grabbed my paws. I put my front paws around his neck.

"Okay.", he sighed. "Let off some steam."

I purred and rubbed my head along his chin.

[xdjville]

what p1harmony calls you

pairing: p1harmony x gn!reader

cw: none

author's note: first post after 10 months, and the first time for p1h! i honestly lost motivation for a long time but i saw piwon live back in january and i'm lowkey (highkey) obsessed so...

#keeho

keeho's a babe kinda guy, through and through. and i mean explicitly, with no exceptions, to the point where your name starts to sound a bit foreign coming from his mouth. he also overuses it (he knows it and refuses to stop), almost every sentence that he says in your direction has to start or end with the petname or else he'd genuinely be sick. your contact name in his phone is 'ma babe 🫶' and he only occasionally changes the emoji.

#theo

your full name, full government name. honestly, with theo i feel like people who don't know he's in a relationship wouldn't realize that from the way he's referring to you, and you will not catch him using a petname, ever. also, if y'all remember that one interview where keeho said that theo has a lot of 'natural aegyo' and keeps talking in that whiny voice, he'd use that tone for you all of the time, purposefully making it more dramatic than what it's worth. it's all out of love though.

#jiung

jiung gets very creative with petnames for you, poetic even, and he's loud and proud about it. no amount of gagging sounds from intak can stop him from calling you his cupcake or angel, and he pays lots of attention to how you're reacting to each one, making sure you're comfortable and trying to find the one you seem to like the most. when you're not around, he'd refer to you as his partner or his baby, the words sliding from his tongue like it's your actual name.

#intak

intak's favorites are babe or baby as well, mixed with an occasional short version of your name here and there. he'd only use your full name when he's upset about something, not necessarily because of you, but it'd be the first sign that something's wrong. when talking about you he definitely calls you his partner, because damn, you are his partner. he just can't stop himself from boasting a little, and honestly, how can you blame him?

#soul

soul would definitely go with either a weird variation of your name that he finds oddly endearing or an inside joke, one that may sound confusing to other people without context. generally, i feel like he'd like something that's really yours, that only the two of you understand or that no one else uses for you except him, like some kind of secret language. he'd use the same words to refer to you while talking to other people, and he honestly couldn't care less if they even understand who he's talking about. and no, he will not explain.

#jongseob

like theo, i honestly don't see jongseob as a petname kind of person, he'd probably just call you by your name, usually your full name (unless you don't like it). a little baby or love might slip from his mouth every now and then, usually when he's in a good mood, but it would usually still come next to your name. when it's in writing though? you're his sunshine, his biggest inspiration, the light of his life, and his one and only (see what i did here). whether it's notes he leaves in your bag or lyrics he writes with you in his mind, new adjectives keep coming to his mind like it's the only thing he can think about.

#taglist ➼♡ @0-hoony @suzayaaa (pls lmk if you'd like to be tagged for piwon as well!)

©xdjville

[mariasont]

So I've been thinking of pre-show prosecutor!Hotch and I was wondering if you had any thoughts?

i do have thoughts. so many, in fact, that i had to exorcise them through a poorly proofed, probably terribly written blurb. i blame hotch for this. and also myself. mostly hotch. anyway, enjoy! pretend it's intentional if there's a typo

“Miss, could you repeat where you said you were standing?”

“Um.” Great start. Really strong. Definitely doesn’t sound like someone about to lie. You cough, try again, and this time manage a passable sentence. “On the — the corner of Sixth and Elm?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Oh! Telling you,” you blurt, practically elbowing your hair out of your face in a rush to clarify. You fumble with the mic, an awkward little shuffle-and-scrape as you drag it closer, before contributing a more certain, “Definitely telling you.”

You try for a smile. You think it lands.

The prosecutor, Aaron Hotchner, if memory serves you correctly, gives you a look. Not a mean one, not even really skeptical, just the level thing that knocks you clean off your axis.

His face is just… offensively handsome. Sharp, classic, serious. And he’s a lawyer, which means he’s smart. Not just good-at-crosswords smart. Real smart. The kind that studies latin and knows what the word precedent means in actual context.

You bet he went to Columbia. Or maybe Stanford. Someplace that required essays and character references and three different recommendation letters.

“Did you notice anyone else there with you at that moment?”

You like his voice, too. It sounds like it should be narrating audiobooks you fall asleep to, or whispering Supreme Court cases in your ear or —

Focus.

“There might’ve been — um, I mean — maybe?” you offer.

“Miss,” he says, closer now, “I need you to be sure.”

“Yes.” The word leaps ahead of you. You clamp your lips shut for half a beat, then add, “Sorry. You’re just — um, sorry. I’m sure.”

He raises an eyebrow then, tilts his head, just a little. That lawyerly squint, halfway between confusion and curiosity.

“You’re just very… persuasive,” you say, scrambling. “I mean — clear. I meant clear.”

You laugh nervously. He doesn’t. The mic picks up everything.

“Thank you,” he murmurs dryly, though there’s a glint in his eye now, the smallest twitch of his upper lip before it evens out again. “Did you observe the defendant exiting the building at approximately 9:15 that night?”

He turns back toward his table — his bench, you think it’s called — and you catch a full view of him from behind. The lines of his back flex beneath his suit, tapering down into a waist that is frankly slutty. Your gaze dips, entirely involuntarily, to where the fabric hugs his nicely-shaped ass. You know it’s wildly inappropriate to be noticing any of this in a courtroom, but, I mean, you’re only human. 

You think about what it would be like to feel that strength over you, not legal, but physical. Hands braced on either side of your head. Jaw clenched. Voice low.

The judge coughs. Loudly. Your eyes shoot forward. You’re ninety percent sure she knows. You’re ninety-nine percent sure everyone knows.

“Yes,” you say quickly, “Yes, I saw him leave at 9:15.”

You manage to survive the rest of questioning without further incriminating yourself, verbally or otherwise. You nod when you’re supposed to, speak when asked, and somehow resist the urge to faint.

And when he finally thanks you and releases you from the stand, you rise with all the grace of a newborn deer on a frozen lake. You practically stumble down the steps, heart pounding like you’re the one awaiting sentencing. 

You don’t meet the judge’s eyes. Or the bailiff’s. Or God’s, for that matter.

But then right before you find your seat, because you are weak and hopeless, you glance back.

The prosecutor is already looking. And for one completely insane, possibly legally compromising moment… he smiles.

[feralmode]

okay i just read the bonus chapters from the rainbow crate books and the scene with andrew and aaron in bee's office really added some helpful context to the scene where andrew confronts kaitlyn in the library. before reading the bonus chapter, i was confused by how violent and angry/hateful andrew is towards kaitlyn. obviously he and aaron have this deal and it's important to him, but it doesn't really explain why he takes it out on kaitlyn.

but after reading the bonus chapter, i feel like 1. he genuinely thinks that kaitlyn is a threat to aaron. coming from neil's perspective, it's easy to think of kaitlyn as harmless, because he's had a couple of interactions with her where she's been bubbly and friendly towards him, and the rest of the foxes seem to like her and think that she and aaron are good together (see: matt saying all of the foxes bet on aaron and kaitlyn getting together). but andrew, as far as we know, has never actually interacted with kaitlyn. if what he's saying is true about aaron's previous girlfriends, then it's not just that he wants to hold aaron captive, he really does think that kaitlyn might mistreat aaron and cause him to relapse because this is a pattern he's seen play out with aaron before. obviously his reasoning for never actually meeting her and figuring out for himself if she's treating him well are more nuanced, but it makes slightly more sense that he would be so openly hostile towards her. he knows that aaron has a history of allowing women to hurt him and andrew has promised to protect him.

and then 2. kaitlyn is the reason aaron outed andrew to bee. the fact that andrew trusts bee so implicitly with all of his worst secrets and is afraid to tell her about neil is frankly devastating, but i don't think aaron is right that it's because he thinks bee will reject him for being gay. i think it's more that if he acknowledges it to bee, she'll force him to see it for what it is, which is genuine affection.

he's been denying having any positive feelings for anyone for so long - all of his close relationships are built on the facade of mutual reliance and deals, so he never has to acknowledge that he cares about them. with neil, getting close to him falls under the purview of the deal, but having an intimate relationship with him is solid proof that what he feels about neil is based in genuine emotion and not just in their deal (sidenote: the fact that andrew is seemingly being honest when he claims that he and neil haven't "fucked" is very interesting but i can't get into that right now). he doesn't talk to bee about it, because he's promised not to lie to bee, so he doesn't tell her anything he's not willing to be truthful about. the fact that aaron took that choice from him, pushed him to confront his feelings for neil, and leveraged neil against him, is enough to make him enraged, and he ends up taking it out on kaitlyn (which i have to believe is at least partly because he can't actually take his anger out on aaron without damaging their relationship, which we know is important to him).

i think that session, realizing that he's not willing to give up what he has with neil, and bee's response reminding andrew that he deserves to try to be happy, are ultimately what lead andrew to stop saying that it's "nothing" and to the conversation when neil says "i'm not as stupid as you think i am" and andrew says "and i'm not as smart as i thought i was." because he fucking knows!!! that he has feelings for neil!!! and it feels threatening but he's learning to accept it!!!!!!!! with bee's help!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

anyway this series will eat me alive thank you and good night

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16

cw: modern au, smut mndi, chronic pain mention, I always feel like my confessions are awk so sorry if you think this one is too

note for minors: a lot of this chapter is smut, but you can read up until the red line without worrying about it. There's no summary this time because it really is just smut for smut's sake and all the character development happens before it starts, so you won't need it for the plot. There is one vague mention of boners before the red line (sorry it's just for a laugh), but that's it

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 3.2k words

You catch on quickly to what’s happened between Sirius and Remus. What you don’t understand is why they’ve interrupted it to come talk to you. And how you could be wrong twice—do they cancel out if you were truly right the first time? 

Clearly, the chemistry you’d felt between Remus and Sirius wasn’t imagined. You’d convinced yourself you must’ve gotten your wires crossed—otherwise why would Remus have kissed you?—but evidently they’ve come to some sort of agreement. Are they here to ask for your permission? Intra-team fornicating: approved. 

You’re not sure if you wish they’d waited until they were less hard to pop by. 

“Um.” You keep your eyes very intentionally on the boys’ faces. “What’s up?” 

Sirius looks almost nervous, skittish even, but Remus’ hand wraps around his to pull him closer to your doorway. Your heart does something funny in your chest. 

“Could we talk?” Sirius asks. 

“Er…yeah. Of course.” You step aside, letting them into your small room. Remus sits politely on the edge of your bed, giving you deja vu from the night before, while Sirius makes himself comfortable further back. He leans his side into your pillow where it’s propped up on the wall. 

“We were talking,” starts Remus, “and I told Sirius about what happened between us.” 

Your next breath seems to come slower. Unwillingly, your gaze flits to Sirius, but he looks impassive, only like he might be scrutinizing you in turn. You look back at Remus. “You did?” 

“I did,” he says gently. “But it wasn’t—” 

“Babe,” Sirius interrupts, “don’t look so freaked. What’s the matter? And why are you still standing there?” 

You realize you’re hugging yourself around your middle, standing awkwardly in front of the bed. “I’m not sure it’s meant to hold three people,” you say weakly. 

Sirius snorts, whatever nervousness he’d arrived with vanishing. Sirius has always been good this way; he can only ever panic when no one else is, but the second you’re panicking too he’s all ease. 

“Don’t be silly.” He pats the space between himself and Remus. It’s as ample as the bed allows, which isn’t saying much. “It’ll be fine. Anyway, it’s your bed.” 

You can’t think of a good reason to argue. Something in you calms as you settle in between them, Sirius’ hip touching yours and the warmth of Remus’ body on your other side. It’s familiar, safe. 

“Are you upset?” you ask Sirius. 

His brows pinch. “Why would I be?” 

“Because…” You cringe. “Aren’t you two…?”

“There’s been a lot of confusion, I think,” Remus says kindly. “But when we were talking, we both sort of came to the realization that we fancy each other…and you.” 

There’s a dense pause. 

“And me?” you echo. 

Remus’ lips tilt slightly. “Yes.” 

“As in…” You rub your eyes, dumbfounded. “Sorry, I did just wake up.” 

Sirius laughs. Remus too, reaching over to rub your knee like he can’t help himself. 

“For the record, I didn’t plan any of this,” says Sirius, “but if I had, I’d have done it exactly this way. It’s very gratifying to finally disturb your sleep schedules the way you pricks have been doing to me all these weeks.” 

“Oi,” Remus chides teasingly, reaching over you to push at Sirius’ thigh. You marvel at this new easiness between them, now given even newer context. “Anyway, we thought we’d come see if you might be interested.” 

“In…you.” You rub your lips together, looking between them and noticing Sirius’ gaze has fallen to your mouth. Unless you’re terribly mistaken and you’ve got it all wrong, this means he fancies you as well. Your partner, your best friend. 

The idea isn’t as upsetting as it ought to be. 

Do you fancy him too? You’ve never thought about Sirius in that way. You love him, of course, but you’ve never taken the time to parse out if it might be a different sort of love than the kind between friends. And as for the rest—well, who wouldn’t be attracted to Sirius? You’re only human. 

“In both of us, yes,” Remus confirms patiently. 

“Is that something you’d be into?” Sirius asks. 

Your answer leaves you on a breath, thoughtless but true. “Yeah.” 

“Yeah?” Sirius grins. 

You nod. You’re suddenly fixated by the way his cupid’s bow flattens out when he smiles like that. It’s something you’ve noticed a thousand times before, but now…

“Yeah,” you say again. “Um…what do we do?” 

Remus chuckles. “I don’t really know. I’ve not been with two people before.” 

“Believe it or not, this is a first for me as well,” Sirius says lightly. 

“Right,” you laugh. It breaks up some of the apprehension in your chest. 

“If you want to,” Remus’ voice softens, “I suppose you could start by kissing him.” 

You look at him, then at Sirius. For the first time, something like insecurity flashes across his face. 

“You don’t have to,” he says quietly. No longer the brazen flirt, but the kind, considerate boy you know. “It’s okay.” 

“I know,” you reply. 

It’s like he’s afraid to touch you until you get to him. You steady yourself with a hand on his jaw, your other pressing into the mattress as you lean towards where he’s reclined against your pillow and bring your lips to his. 

You know all the ways that Sirius moves, and even this new, completely uncharted part of him is consistent. Sirius’ kisses start out slow, probing, feeling out what you like and what he can do, but then he gives himself over to it. His hands find first your hips, urging you closer to him before one slides to the small of your back. Greedy fingers curl in the fabric of your pajama top. 

You make a small, accidental sound in the back of your throat when his teeth tease your bottom lip, and Sirius pulls away. You’re both breathing hard. 

Sirius stares at you for a weighted moment before his eyes drift behind you and he huffs out a laugh. “Enjoyed that, did you?” 

You look over your shoulder, and Remus is watching you both with a low flame burning in his gaze. He flushes a tad at the question but his expression doesn’t change. He leans forward, kissing you, tasting Sirius on your lips. 

───────────────────────────────────────────

The three of you don’t need to speak much to communicate. Remus pulls you back into him, his length hardening against your ass, and Sirius follows. He kisses Remus over your shoulder with a relieved sort of sigh. All the while, his hands are roving your thighs, pushing up your pajama shorts until they crease and pinch at your crotch. 

You exhale and tilt your head to the side when Remus drops his lips to your neck. “We have a competition tomorrow,” you remind them both. “We ought to be resting up.” 

You feel Sirius’ grin as he brings his mouth to yours again. “Yup.” He nips your bottom lip. “I’m aware this is a bad idea.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t condone it,” Remus agrees, one hand covering your ribs while the other sneaks down to tease the waist of your pajama shorts.Your poor shorts are being attacked from both sides. “How far do you want to go?” 

Sirius pulls his lips from yours to watch you think. They still tingle, and you rub them together unconsciously. His eyes darken. 

“You drive me mad when you do that,” he says. 

“Do what?” 

Sirius’ mouth kicks up at the corner. He brings his thumb to your lower lip, pressing down on it gently. His own lips are swollen and gleaming prettily with spit, eyes nearly all pupil. Remus’ hand strokes lazily at your side. 

“I want to go as far as you guys want to,” you say without breaking Sirius’ gaze. 

His grin widens, and he looks at Remus, shrugging. “We could just go until somebody says stop.” 

“Alright,” says Remus. One of his hands leaves you, finger hooking in the waist of Sirius’ trousers. “Can we take these off, then?” 

Sirius isn’t shy, but you didn’t think he would be. He sits up on his knees and pulls them down, letting Remus help them over his ankles before they’re discarded in a heap on the floor. Remus gets rid of his too, and then you’re staring at the outlines of both boys through the far thinner material of their underwear. 

Remus ghosts a touch over Sirius’ cock, making the other boy’s expression pinch with want, before pulling down the waistband. Lithe, graceful muscles and hip bones curving inwards. Sirius curses as Remus’ long fingers wrap around him. 

Remus pumps slowly, his own arousal an insistent heat at your hip. You find your attention torn between the feeling of his body against your backside and the sultry droop of Sirius’ eyelids as he watches Remus work his cock. 

“Doesn’t he look pretty?” Remus murmurs. 

It takes you a second to realize he’s speaking to you. “Yeah.” Your mouth feels dry. You swallow, and watch as Sirius’ eyes flit up to the motion. “He always does.” 

Remus hums in agreement, pressing a light kiss to an exposed bit of skin beside the neckline of your top. “Do you want to try, lovely?” 

You turn your head to look at him. Remus’ eyes are glued to Sirius. “What about you?” 

A chuckle, and another soft kiss to your shoulder. “I’ll be alright.” 

Remus waits until your hand is around Sirius’ shaft, pumping a couple times against his own fist, before letting go. You choose a slightly less languid pace than Remus had. Sirius twitches in your grasp, taking your face in his hands and setting his lips to yours with a muffled groan. 

Behind you, Remus moves closer until his length is pressed against your ass. One of his hands steadies you by the hip while the other dips below the waistband of your shorts, palming you through your underwear. You shift, and he hisses when you move against him. 

You turn your head on instinct, Sirius’ lips smudging across your cheek. “Sorry.” 

“It’s alright.” Remus’ voice is breathy, amused. “You just surprised me.” 

“What’d she do?” Sirius is never one to be left out of the loop. 

“Just backed into me.” 

“Oh. Gorgeous,” he smiles, turning you by the chin to capture your lips again, “who wouldn’t want that?” 

Their praise soon has you devolving into a thoughtless, sensory creature. Sirius’ hands caress your face and neck and Remus’ fingers brush your panties aside to toy with your cunt. Every movement of your hips makes him push more insistently against you. Your shirt comes off, Remus dotting your shoulders with sweet kisses. Your grip tightens on Sirius’ cock, and a low, needy sound tears out of him. 

“Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart. Just like that.” 

Your heart flutters at the endearment, but you don’t let your movements stall. Soon he’s pushing his hips into your hand, kisses turning messy and desperate, your own sounds harder to suppress as Remus bullies your clit with two fingers. You’re glad to know at least Sirius’ room is empty on your other side, because you’re beginning to wonder how thick these walls are. Remus pushes his length into the crease between your asscheeks through your shorts, Sirius’ cock beginning to twitch in your hand, and you press your lips together to contain a sound that promises to be both loud and mortifying—and the bed collapses. 

You fall backwards onto Remus as the cardboard on his end gives out, sending all three of you to the floor. Sirius’ teeth knock into yours and Remus catches you around the waist with both hands, keeping you from fully sitting on his hard cock. 

“Fuck.” Sirius brings a hand to his mouth. “What the fuck?” 

“Oh, shit.” You scramble away from Remus, onto the floor. Both boys look at you in alarm. You’re looking to where Remus’ leg is bent underneath him, not at a terribly cruel angle, but still— “Your hip. Is your hip okay?” 

“Oh.” Remus glances down as though he’s forgotten it himself, realization dawning over his features. 

“Fuck,” Sirius breaths, remembering as well. His hand moves toward Remus but lingers in the air, afraid of hurting him. 

“It’s…yeah, it’s okay,” says Remus. His eyes meet yours. “It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt.” 

Sirius’ brows pinch, but his hand makes it the rest of the way, rubbing tentatively over Remus’ hip joint. “Are you sure?” 

Remus shifts slowly, sitting up off his knees to move closer to Sirius. “I’m sure.” A little smile graces his lips. “You worried about me, Pads?” 

Sirius’ face splits in the sort of grin you can only ever surprise out of him. “Fuck off,” he laughs, pushing Remus away when he tries to kiss him. Remus catches Sirius’ hands, his own smile unfurling slowly, almost unwillingly. It makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“How sweet,” he hums, smug. 

You find yourself smiling at them both, your heart a balloon in your chest. 

“Okay.” You give the mattress a little tug. “In that case, could you guys get off?”

“What’re you doing?” Remus asks. Both he and Sirius move. 

“Having this on a slant doesn’t seem like a good idea, so I’m moving it.” 

It should be awkward, this break in the tension, but maybe it’s because you’re so used to working as a team that it isn’t. You all get the mattress situated on the floor, and then you’re dragging Remus’ underwear off, his hands moving kind and doting over the lengths of your arms. He inhales a small breath as Sirius takes his cock into his mouth. 

You watch Sirius’ lips move up and down his shaft, his eyes dark and growing shiny as he takes Remus as far as he can. You aren’t quite sure how to contribute, but when you rub the inside of Sirius’ thigh tentatively both boys moan. You take that to mean you’re on the right track. 

The muscles in Sirius’ back flex as he raises and lowers his head between Remus’ legs, mouth growing wet with spit and slick, and it’s not long before Remus’ fingers are curling in Sirius’ hair, curses spewing from between his lips in a Welsh accent you’ve not heard before. You can’t help but follow them back to the source, kissing Remus just before he cums down Sirius’ throat. He grips you by the arms with something like desperation. You’re happy to stay as the tension unwinds from his body, until his hands are moving down you, smoothing across the skin just above the waistband of your shorts. 

“Are you planning on keeping those on all night?” 

It’s Sirius who asks, his gaze sultry as he watches Remus’ finger skim just underneath the fabric covering your ass. He wipes the corner of his mouth with a thumb. 

“How’s this?” Remus suggests. He pulls you gently into his lap, situating you between his legs with your back against his chest. Again, you can feel the impression of him pressed against your backside. 

Your voice comes out weak. “This is good.” 

He chuckles, soothing a hand down your side while Sirius grins. Sirius’ fingers grasp the elastics of both your shorts and your underwear. “Okay?” he asks you. 

You nod. 

He takes his time working them down your legs and off your ankles, his eyes locking on your exposed cunt and the arousal Remus has coaxed out of you already. Remus, too, is watching over your shoulder. His fingers gravitate back to it, dragging slick up through your folds idly, almost worshipfully. He kisses behind your ear. 

“Fuck, you’re lovely,” says Sirius. 

Both boys’ gazes stay glued to your cunt as Sirius positions himself over you, pushing into your warmth. You bite down on a small sound. Remus tuts at you, his hand spreading reassuringly over your navel. 

“You can do better than that,” he chides. “Don’t think we don’t want to hear you.” 

Sirius holds your hips as he sinks into you. His fingers dent your flesh, and you marvel at the fact that you’ve wasted so much time not doing this. That you’ve ever been in a room with either Remus or Sirius and managed not to kiss them dizzy. You’re not sure you’ll be able to manage it again. 

Remus draws slow, tight circles around your clit with his finger. You arch your neck back onto his shoulder, and Sirius groans as you tighten on him. 

“God—you’re so perfect,” he says hoarsely. “You feel so good.” 

Your reply gets lost on a lewd sound as he drags his cock along your walls. Remus kisses you rewardingly in the soft skin underneath your ear. “There you are,” he says. “Good girl.” 

Warmth unfurls through your gut. 

Sirius grins whatever reaction must show up on your face, his hands migrating to your ass as he thrusts into you. As he gets rougher, so do Remus’ ministrations to your clit, his slow circles turning quick and jagged. You feel yourself tighten on Sirius in little flutters that have him gripping you tight enough to leave fingerprint bruises. 

“Fuck, like that, yeah. Just like that, baby.” 

Your lips part at the pet name and Sirius’ eyes flick up to yours like he’s surprised too, like he’s let slip something he didn’t mean to. But you say, “come here,” and he goes, leaning over you to let you take his face in your hands and kiss him until you can’t breathe. 

Remus feels your high approaching before you do. His free hand smooths over the inside of your twitching thigh. 

“Are you close?” he asks you. 

Sirius parts his lips from yours, looking down to see the confirmation on your face. You give it.

“Good,” he says, picking up his pace, “good, sweetheart, that’s it. Cum for me, yeah? I’ve got you.” 

You nearly bite your lip in half when you do, Remus tsking amusedly and kissing your neck while the tightening of your cunt threatens to send Sirius over the edge as well. He starts to pull out of you, but you grab his hand. 

“It’s okay,” you manage. “In me.” 

“Really?” he asks in a strangled voice. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I wanna feel it.” 

That’s all it takes. Sirius’ expression pinches like you’ve said something cruel as he thrusts into you one last time, a shock that reverberates through you as he warms you from the inside out. He’s rigid for a few seconds before tipping forward, his head to your shoulder and to Remus' chest, which you’ve slipped down without noticing. His breath fans softly over your skin. 

Remus rubs your thigh comfortingly and with his other hand pets down Sirius’ hair, cupping his flushed cheek. “Alright, love?” he asks. 

Sirius’ blush seems to worsen. “Yeah. You?” 

“More than.” Remus kisses his head. 

It’s only after a few seconds of silence that you realize Remus’ question was posed to the both of you. 

“That was…” you shake your head, at a loss “...fantastic.” 

“Yeah?” Sirius nudges his nose into your skin. “I thought so.” 

Remus’ chuckle rumbles through all three of you. “Cocky,” he says fondly. 

“And decent enough with it, by all reports.” 

It starts up a round of sweet, half teasing kisses Sirius pretends to want to escape despite making no real efforts to do so. You give and receive plenty of your own, until not just your lips and shoulders but many other parts of you are wet with spit and slick. You fall asleep all three on a twin mattress on the floor, your head on Remus’ chest and Sirius’ arms wound around your middle. It might be the best sleep you’ve ever had.

[leikeliscomet]

A lot of people including asexuals really don't understand that asexuality is really the only form, or at least one of the very few forms of nonsexuality that exists outside of puritanism. It's one of the few forms of nonsexuality that isn't enforced or mandatory in a religious, spiritual, physical or mental sense. Its one of the few forms of nonsexuality that doesn't involve an active restriction or repression of desire or attraction but instead simply not having certain desires or attractions in the first place for people who never had them or no longer have them. It's one of the few forms of nonsexuality that is naturally occurring instead of being mandatory and enacted by a larger system. I know there's some feminist reworkings of celibacy and abstinence but those usually have an expiry date in the sense that after sexual conditions improve for women then sex can start again (with men). Asexuality does not. Whilst ethical celibacy or abstinence is usually in the context of women not participating in sex until certain conditions are met and improved, asexuality offers the ability to not participate ever. With no pressure to rejoin or join, no moral stigma. And I think that's pretty neat.

So when the forefront of liberal ace activism is to distance itself from nonsexuality completely, to constantly assert that asexuals aren't frigid prudes, asexuals aren't virgins, asexuals aren't vanilla, asexuals aren't ugly and unfuckable, asexuals have libidos like normal people, asexuals are never scared or uncomfortable with sex at all or have any not 100% enthusiastic opinions about it, that there's 0 trace of any sexual trauma or negative sexual experiences or anxieties because we're not damaged goods, essentially focusing on our hypothetical sexual potential more than the nonsexual realities a lot of us have, to say I'm confused and disappointed would be a massive understatement.

Yes asexuality is a spectrum and everyone's valid blah blah blah but not all of these experiences are the same and the community hasn't and doesn't want to prepare for that. We've advocated for how aces can still take part in (hetero)sexuality but what are those of us who don't supposed to do? There's no guide for what childless aces are gonna do in the next few decades when they have no biological descendants. There's no guide on how to have an asexual romance without sex apart from 'just cuddle' or basically just saying do 'normal' romance without the sex bit. There were no guide to QPRs until we made them. There's no guide on how to build an ace community in real life and how to deal with any loneliness or isolation that comes from not having a local community. There's no guide on how to be a nonsexual being apart from 'just don't have sex/do sexual things' which apart from being backhanded as hell for those of us who didn't get a choice, it doesn't go beyond that. We have this unique form of nonsexuality and nothing is being done with it, apart from ignoring, erasing or blatantly attacking it. Where are all those "harmful stereotype" asexuals supposed to go? There's no one around to help but us.

I care more about supporting asexual people's nonsexual needs than proving asexuals fit into some type of sexual normalcy.

[animasola86]

👻 A KNIFE TO REMEMBER

ghostface x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 3.8k

As you try to find your way through the mysterious house, someone finds you first...

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Masks/costumes! Knife kink/knife play! Fingering! Anonymous sex! Creampies! (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: This is part 2 of my CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE smut series! 1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 🔸 7 This is OPTION 1/PART 2 - but can be read individually, let me just set the scene:

CONTEXT: You were invited to a Halloween party in a mysterious house, dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, and on your search for the bathroom, you come to a long hallway full of doors, and you decide to reach for the door closest to you.

Just when you reach for the door knob, you feel someone coming up from behind, and before you know it, a pair of hands blocks your vision. You gasp in shock, but a low voice vibrates in your ear as you're being pulled against a firm body.

“Shh, no need to panic,” the male voice drones, making you stiffen in his hold. It sounds a little muffled. “I won't hurt you. Unless you're into it...”

You reach up and grab onto his wrists, squirming against him. “Let me go,” you plead, but he only shushes you.

“Ah, come on, little Red. You're here for an adventure, aren't you?”

His hand moves to your mouth now, and you blink into the dimly lit hallway. He holds your face tightly, making it impossible to turn your head and look at whoever has you in his grasp, but you can still see that he's wearing a black costume, something like a robe. No gloves, though, just big veiny hands. Strong, and very adventurous.

With one still on your mouth, muffling the noises of protest, his other hand roams along your body, rubs up and down your side, gropes at your breast, grips your throat and gives it a light squeeze, before moving back down, teasing under the hem of your skirt. You must be in shock, because you can't find the courage or willpower to fight whatever is happening. This guy is clearly taking advantage of your confusion, and without another word, he pushes you forward, opens another door and guides you into the dark room beyond it.

You stumble, and when he finally lets you go, you fall onto something soft. A bed. Scrambling on your hands and knees, you're not quick enough as he grabs you again, pushing you flat on your stomach. A garbled scream escapes you, coaxing a low chuckle out of him. He has his hand on your nape, a tight grip, and you whine and struggle, but he's strong, and when you suddenly feel something cold press against your neck, you freeze on the spot.

“Tsk, tsk,” he makes. “Be a good little victim now, okay? I really don't want to make my shiny new toy dirty too soon. Can you feel it? The cold blade?”

You don't even dare to breathe at this point, because, yes, you can feel it, see the large knife in your mind's eye as it teases against your delicate skin. He eases the pressure slightly when he curls one arm around your middle, pulling you back and flush against him. You'd expect his breath on your ear with how close his voice is, but you can't feel anything – except something hard like plastic pressing against your cheek. He's wearing a mask.

“So, let's have a bit of fun first, yeah?” he whispers and leans around you, and even in the dark room, with only the moonlight falling through the window, you can see the long white face with its wide open mouth and droopy eye holes glaring at you. Ghostface. “Hi,” he says, tilting his head menacingly, a low chuckle in his muffled voice. “Or would you have preferred a different sicko with a knife? We do have quite the selection tonight.”

Your lips part, but no words come out. The sight of that face, frozen in plastic, gives you the chills, but you can't deny the little flutter in your stomach. May it be your sensitive guts or something else entirely, but whatever the case, you are rendered immobile by this strange encounter.

“So, how would you like this? Shall I chase you through the house first?” he continues in a mocking tone.

You blink, trying to calm your thundering heart. “Just... let me go?” you gasp out when he raises his knife again, poking the sharp tip against the side of your neck. “Please!” you cry out with a whimper, tilting your body away.

“Aw, baby, don't worry, I won't kill you,” he says quietly, pressing his other hand against your stomach. “I just want to have some fun! And I'm sure you do too. I saw you come in, all alone, lost and lonely. Won't you like some company? Isn't that why you came here on your own? To meet people? Let loose?”

His words have the desired effect as you find yourself agreeing with him. Maybe not like this, but then again, this is a Halloween party, spookier things have happened than having some fun with a masked stranger (who teases you with a very real knife...). You can't deny that your body is already accepting whatever may happen next. The man behind you seems to sense its willingness too as his hand suddenly slips down your stomach and under your skirt and curls right between your legs, eager fingers pressing against your underwear.

“Ah, yes, see? You're so ready for this,” he hisses into your ear, and you look away in shame. “So wet. Maybe you have a knife kink?” he asks, simultaneously pressing the blade against your throat and his fingers between your wet folds, making you gasp and stiffen. As you fight the urge to squirm, he keeps rubbing along the drenched fabric of your panties, pressing hard and deep, teasing your entrance. “Would you like to have something bigger in that cute little cunt, hm, baby? I promise I brought more than just this pretty knife...”

To underline his words, he presses his groin against your back, and you can feel just how happy he is to see you. Your heart beats faster. It's a strange sensation. This feels wrong, being cornered by a stranger (with a knife no less), forced to have some fun, but then again, maybe you needed the push into the right direction. You only live once, as cheesy as it sounds, and you have to admit you've (more or less shamefully) masturbated to the occasional rape fantasy story before.

Sure it's something else to actually experience this, but your body seems to disagree. It's a thrill, an actual adventure, and the fact that you could have fought more and tried to run away but never actually did speaks volumes. Maybe you want this? And he does seem to ask you for your consent in his own twisted way, even if he has a knife pressed to your neck and his fingers between your thighs – he could have just taken you with how much bigger and stronger he is, but in the good old villain fashion he had to hear his own voice for a bit instead.

“Well?” he whispers, rubbing his plastic mask against your cheek. You can hear his labored breaths through it now, he seems just as excited as the wetness dripping against his fingertips makes you appear.

“Mhm,” you croak out, unable to find your voice or any words to make this whole situation make sense in your protesting mind. You can't believe you just agreed to this, whatever this is, but before you can ponder it any longer, he suddenly pushes you forward and you land on the bed again. Too shocked to move, you let him manhandle you onto your back, and before you know it, he's crawled over you, pushing your skirt up and your legs wide apart, holding them open with his knees.

His hands roam up your body, and you realize he's dropped the knife somewhere, as his long fingers knead your breasts through the fabric of your blouse. You lie beneath him like a stranded beetle on its back, hands palm-up next to your head, unable to even twitch, and all you can do is watch the large shadow above you, with only the white mask glowing in the dark. It's eerily intimidating, but at the same time you feel the telltale tension in your stomach, alerting you just how aroused you are.

“What a good girl you are,” he says, fingers fidgeting with the buttons of your blouse. “So submissive. Are you just as breedable, hm?”

His words make you shiver. You inhale sharply when his rough hands make contact with your soft breasts as they slip right beneath your bra, pushing it up, and you can't help pressing your chest against his touch, wanting more. He's strangely gentle in how he touches you, despite his costume, despite the power he clearly has over you. And it only adds to your arousal, making you squirm beneath him.

“Little Red's excited, huh?” he mocks as he gropes your tender tits until you feel your hard nipples pressing into his palms. “Don't worry, I'll fill you up in no time. But maybe... hmm...” he makes, slowly leaning back on his knees. His fingers grip the sides of your blouse, pulling it open and exposing you completely, before trailing over your stomach until he reaches to the side and grabs the knife again. “Maybe I want you to beg for it...”

You let out a surprised whimper when you feel the cold edge of the knife press between your breasts, teasing at the soft mounds. He's looming over you, his head (and the mask) tilted ominously to the side, the grotesque face staring down at you. You swallow hard, barely daring to move with the blade so close to your skin.

“Come on, baby, beg me to fuck you... or beg me not to kill you?”

Suddenly his hand is on your throat, and you gasp voicelessly as he closes his fingers around it, while pressing the knife firmer against your chest, the blade scratching along your skin with every rapid breath you take, no matter how hard you try not to move.

“Please,” you whimper, a series of shivers crashing down your spine. “Don't... hurt me...”

“Hmm, can't promise that, lovely,” he replies with a sigh. “I'm sure you'll like a bit of rough sex as well, won't you? And what's pleasure without a little pain, hm? Try again!”

The knife pokes a little deeper, and you're sure it broke your skin now, but he keeps holding your neck, that unnerving mask staring down at you. “Please, don't kill me,” you whisper, playing along, somehow not as frightened as you should be. “I'm too young to die!”

His laugh is low and menacing. “And too pretty as well, right? Yeah, you are,” he says with another chuckle, leaning closer until your entire vision is filled with that white face and its black eye holes. “Well, then, whatever else could we do? You know I like to kill people, slash them up real good... if only there was something I could do to you instead...”

“F-fuck me,” you croak out, surprised by your own words.

He leans back abruptly, a triumphant “Ah!” falling from behind the mask. “Good girl, Red. I can do that!”

Your head is spinning as you have a moment to contemplate what you just said, but only until you feel his hands lifting your hips before his fingers pull your panties down. He's shifted to kneel beside you, and you realize he's placed his knife right on your fluttering stomach. Your hands claw at the edges of the pillow as you ground yourself, still not even thinking about fighting back or even escaping. Why would you? You've never felt this exhilarated. Sex with a stranger. Your mother would be so disappointed, but it's all the more incentive to go through with it.

You watch his dark figure, noticing that he's rid himself of the long black robe, and you can see muscled arms and a tight black shirt, and you wished you could see it all in more detail, but it's too dark, so you just have to imagine the rest of his build. Not that it matters much, you're already aroused enough as it is (though the mental image of a big strong guy with bulging muscles pinning you to the bed certainly helps with it).

When his fingers are back between your legs, you gasp in surprise, blinking your eyes into focus as he rips you from your thoughts. His fingertips move expertly, slipping between your labia, teasing at your hooded clit, poking at your hole. All you can do is squirm slightly, moaning softly the more he touches you. He watches you, or so you think, his head tilted comically to the side, that white face leering at you ominously.

Suddenly he moves, hands on your thighs as he pushes your legs wide open, before he grabs the knife and teases the pointy tip down your stomach, over the fabric of your bunched up skirt, until you feel the cold metal against your inner thigh. You let out a croaked whimper, forcing yourself not to move too much. While he teases you with the blade, he puts his hand over your mound, pumping his palm against your wet folds until a lewd squelching sound rings in your ears that makes you blush deeply.

“Nice and wet for me, aren't you?” he mocks quietly, repeating the motions a few times before he pulls his hand back and probes two fingers against your core instead. You brace yourself for the intrusion, but you still cry out softly when he pushes inside you. Big hands with thick fingers, and two of his feel like four of yours, as he stretches your entrance and presses hard against your protesting muscles. You groan in response, thrashing your head back.

He keeps fingering you, his digits slipping in and out in a lazy rhythm that he mirrors with his knife as it scratches up and down your inner thigh, and every time he presses the blade harder against your skin, you feel your walls clenching around his fingers.

“You like that, huh?” he whispers menacingly. “Knife kink confirmed.”

You bite your lip hard to suppress more telltale noises of pleasure, but he only keeps going, teasing you, playing with you, pushing hard and fast into you, and when he curls his fingers just right, you inhale sharply, that tension in your stomach building relentlessly, almost painfully, but it's only when you suddenly feel the cold metal of the blade right against your throbbing clit that you come with a loud howl, hips bucking up, no longer caring about getting cut, as you ride the waves of bliss as if nothing else matters.

“Beautiful,” you hear his distant voice as you slowly come down from your high, bright lights dancing behind your eyelids, and you feel him still massaging your squishy walls as they contract around him. “Can't wait to feel that around my cock...”

You hear a soft clinking sound when he seems to fumble with his belt, the knife back on your belly, heavy and cold even through the fabric. His hands are on your waist then, pulling you down a little until he drapes your legs over his thighs, guiding your crotches together. You barely register any of it, your mind reeling from your orgasm, but also anticipating the feel of his dick inside you. You can't see it in the dark, but with how he is built, you can only imagine it must be equally impressive.

You don't have to think about it for long as you feel its tip pressing between your wet folds when he rubs it against you to gather your slick. Breathing harder, you open your eyes, trying to watch him. The moonlight is enough to show you a big strong body kneeling between your legs, and only the glowing mask makes it all a little eerie, but when he finally enters you, you don't care about appearances anymore. He feels glorious.

Big, oh so big, filling you out more than you would have expected as he presses deeper, nudge by nudge, little rolls of his hips until he bottoms out inside you. His hands dig into your waist, holding you against him, and you feel bruises forming, but you don't mind, you need this. His first thrust makes the knife on your stomach bounce, and you gasp loudly. The second is equally harsh as he withdraws slowly to slam back in with force.

When he finally settles into a slow but steady rhythm, you're mewling softly, overwhelmed by how he feels inside you, how your walls cling to his shaft, sucking him in and dragging along it with every push and pull, rubbing so deliciously you feel a scorching tension building up inside you, burning brighter with every snap, every deep plunge, filling you up more and more.

His hands leave your waist to grab your throat, turning your soft moans into voiceless gasps, as he slowly picks up the pace and really rams into you, using his hold on your neck as leverage to angle his pelvis against you, allowing him to hit all the good spots with ease and fervor. You cry out soundlessly, your eyes rolling back, the last thing you see that ominous white mask above you, before you come hard around him, clamping down on his pistoning cock, your wetness gushing past him as you convulse beneath him.

You feel lightheaded, blinded by bliss, barely able to breathe, but you couldn't care less. He fucks you through your literally mind-blowing orgasm, pushing you higher and higher, until you feel it building up all over again. He lets go of your throat, allowing you to cry out hoarsely as you come a second time (or so you think, not that you could think at all, much less count the highs he's forcing upon you).

He pushes you down into the bed, one hand on your shoulder, holding you steady, while his other hand grabs the knife off your stomach, and you only realize that when you feel the cold blade against your cheek, gathering your sweat on its tip. Or maybe your tears, you can't be sure, your body feels like it belongs to somebody else at the moment, and you're just here to enjoy the ride.

“Open wide,” he tells you, his voice muffled and strained, and you comply, parting your lips before you feel the blunt edge of the blade pressing against them. “Tongue out.” You follow through, still too dizzy to question anything.

He presses the knife flat against your tongue, holding it there while he keeps pounding his cock into your fluttering cunt. You can hear his labored breaths from behind the mask, his movements becoming jerkier as you just lie there, staring up at him, goosebumps rippling over your skin as your legs twitch against his sides.

The white face is looming over you, unmoving, unnerving, while the man behind it gives his all to chase his own orgasm as he thrusts into you feverishly. Your own sounds are muffled with how he holds your mouth open, and you have to really force yourself not to move your tongue against the blade. He leans down more, putting more of his weight on you, pinning you down, his hips snapping against yours in a wild rhythm, until he finally stills, a loud groan echoing in your ears as he falls forward, mask pressed to the pillow beside your head, the hand holding the knife to your tongue shaking slightly.

That last thrust made you whine as he pushed as deep as he could possibly go, bullying your cervix, and before you can even wonder if he's used a condom or not, which you doubt, but again, your mind is swimming in bliss, unable to worry about anything at all, you feel him throbbing inside you, his balls drawing up against your folds as he empties himself in your depths, filling you with spurt after spurt of hot cum. You clench around him, trying to milk him, and the motion only makes you moan into the blade pressed against your tongue as another wave of pleasure crashes over you at the sensation.

He eventually leans back up, propped on his elbow, that mask so close to your face it's all you can see. Slowly he lifts the knife, the cold pressure gone, and all that remains is a numb feeling and a whole lot of spit. You close your mouth and swallow hard, but freeze when he suddenly reaches out and wipes his fingers over your wet lips, a gentle gesture you haven't expected. He traces your mouth with his thumb, and for a moment you're tempted to pull that stupid mask off and kiss him, deeply, properly, but that's not part of your play, unfortunately.

He stares at you a moment longer before he sits up again, his chest rising and falling almost as heavily as yours. His hands trail down your body, giving your breasts a few more squeezes before he grips your hips and pushes you off him, his mask tilting down as he watches his cock slipping free from your cunt, followed by a large warm dollop of his cum spilling from between your puffy lips. He exhales loudly as he slowly gets off the bed and puts his spent cock away.

“Well, wasn't that fun,” he then says, his low voice a little strained. “Thanks for the ride, Little Red. I'll make sure to recommend you to the others...”

His words should have irritated you, but you're still too fucked-out to care. All you reply with is a soft sigh as you sink back into the bed, finally relaxing into the cushions. You watch him out of hooded eyes as he puts his robe back on, hiding those strong arms, then leans closer once more to pick up his large knife.

And then he's at the door, opening it, letting the light from the hallway spill into the room and over your soiled body. He raises his knife, waving at you almost menacingly, then slips out of the room, closing the door behind him, vanishing like a shadow in the night, leaving you alone in the dark.

You groan and thrash your head back. What a ride indeed. Not how you have planned this party to start, but what's done is done. When you eventually scramble off the bed, bra pushed back over your breasts, your shaking fingers trying to button your blouse, you realize you can't find your panties anywhere. He must have taken them. Fuck. If he wouldn't have pumped you full of his cum, you wouldn't even mind, but as you stand, you can feel it dripping down your leg, warm and sticky.

Sighing deeply, you squeeze your thighs together. Just another reason to finally find that bathroom, you think as you slip out of the room and back onto the hallway full of doors.

1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 🔸 7

YOUR NEXT OPTIONS ARE:

check the door opposite you

go to the end of the hallway

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

[grison-in-space]

I'm genuinely sorry, I was really tired and couldn't think of the word that mad pride movements use. I'm new to all of this. I thought you would be more open to it because you've reblogged from radical leftists (anarchists and communists both) within the past couple of weeks and they're all for Veganism afaik. The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different. I'm not spamming people with it, but I was inspired by an ask by a nonvegan and started asking popular bloggers why they weren't vegan to open up conversation and potentially change people's views on animals. If I've made you uncomfortable I'm sorry, though I admit I'm really confused by your standpoint. You do know that the only reason communism hasn't succeeded is because of America? Anyway, sorry again, I'm also autistic and I didn't mean to dismiss your legitimate dietary needs. Can I recommend acti-vegan's posts? While I understand that you can't go vegan, perhaps their blog will at least help you understand our points, they're much more well-written than my asks and they have plenty of legitimate science resources at hand. Thanks for listening, I'll take your advice into account. I'm not trying to not listen, it's just frustrating because so many people say they get it but they don't change, and if they truly got it they would, you know?

Okay, I get that you didn't mean to be offensive, and fuck knows I shouldn't throw stones when it comes to forgetting specific words. (This happens to me fairly frequently; it's a thing.)

The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different.

So yesterday I actually wrote out and then deleted a whole paragraph to the effect of "part of my deep, deep frustration with animal rights activism hooks into my commitment to the phrase 'nothing about us without us,' because I frequently see the same kinds of emotional projection without making the effort to listen to animals on their own terms from animal rights activism groups."

The first thing I need to make clear to you is that this--veganism and animal rights activism (ARA) more generally--is not new to me. I am in my mid-thirties and I have never had a job of any kind that did not revolve around animals in some way, I've spent time in rescue spaces and vets and universities, I'm queer and I have spent most of my life in leftish progressive circles, so it's kind of hard to miss.

Essentially, you are proselytizing to me as if you were a newly baptized evangelical convinced I had never heard of Jesus, because if only I had heard and understood his holy word, I would be converted instantly to his light! It's not any less irritating when the belief system isn't explicitly a religion.

More under the cut, because this one is long.

Disclaimer one: Veganism isn't synonymous with ARA ideology, but it's deeply entangled with it, and ARA ideology drives the movement of veganism as a (theoretically non-religious) ethical decision. And I object very strongly to the framework imposed by ARA activists. When I say I am not vegan, I am saying that I have considered the ethical framework that underpins veganism as an ethics movement and I have deliberately rejected it.

The second piece of context you should know that when I talk about being a behavioral ecologist, I mean that I'm a researcher who works on animals and that my framework is rooted in trying to understand animals in their own natural ecological context, without necessarily comparing them to humans. There's a lot of ways to study animal behavior you might run into, including attempts to understand universal principles of behavior that transcend species (animal cognition) and attempts to understand how to better treat animals in human care (animal welfare). You know Temple Grandin? Temple Grandin is an ethologist (the field that gave rise to behavioral ecology, also focused on animals within their species context) who worked on animal welfare (finding ways to make slaughterhouses less stressful to livestock, among other things).

Third point: my profession also means is that I work directly with animals--in my case, currently mice--and that I do not think research with animal subjects is wrong as long as all efforts are made to ensure maximal welfare and enrichment for the animals involved. This is another major bone of contention politically between my entire field and ARA groups, and you should know that I have also spent my entire professional career under the shadow of, well, people who care strongly enough about those ideas to invade my workspace and potentially seize my animals and "free" them into a world they do not have the tools to survive in.

So there's where I am coming from. Let's get back to what you're saying. Here, I'll quote again in case you have the same crappy short-term memory I do.

The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different.

Point the first: Even within humans, I don't think that all brains should be treated the exact same. Especially in a disability context! After all, what is an accommodation if not an agreement to treat someone differently because they need certain things to access a space? Accommodations by definition fly in the face of this "treating everyone the same" understanding of fairness. I think all (human) brains are equally valuable, and I think all brains are worthy of respect, but I do not think that it's wise or kind of me to assert that everyone should be treated in the same way. For one thing, I teach students. If there's one thing teaching has taught me, it's that a good teacher is constantly assessing and adjusting their instruction to meet students where they're at, identify failures of understanding, and keep the attention of the classroom.

Point the second: animals do have different brains from humans. That does not mean that animals are inferior, but it does mean that they are alien. There's a philosophy paper, Nagel, What Does It Mean to Be a Bat, that you might find illuminating on this front. Essentially, the point of the paper is that animals have their own experiences and sensory umwelts that differ profoundly enough from humans' that we cannot know what it is like to be a different species without experiencing life as one, and therefore we must be terribly careful not to project our own realities onto theirs. That is, our imagination cannot tell us what a bat values and what it experiences. That is why we have to use careful evidence to understand what an animal is thinking, without relying on our ability to identify with and comprehend that animal. I have watched ARA groups deliberately encourage people to shut their reasoning brains off and emotionally identify themselves with animals without considering within-species context for twenty years. This is a mainstream tactic. It is not an isolated event and for that reason alone I would be opposed to them.

Point the third: there is a definite tendency in lots of people to care deeply and intensely about both animals and people who are seen as "lesser" in status--children, poor people, disabled people, etc--just as long as those groups never contradict the good feelings that come from the helper's own assessment of themselves and their actions. In humans, when the "needy" point out that some forms of help are actually harmful, the backlash is often swift and vicious. This is why animals are such an appealing target of support and intervention. They can't speak back and say "in fact, you are projecting my love of this frilly pink tutu onto me, and I think it's uncomfortable and prevents me from walking." They can't say "I kind of like it better when I don't have to worry about getting hit by a car, actually?"

(By the way: this is also why it's offensive to compare disabled people to animals, because this is generally done at least in part to silence the voices of disabled people speaking for our selves and our communities. We have access to language, and we use it, thank you.)

All forms of animal welfare intervention going right back to the founding of the first RSPCA have been incredibly prone to being hijacked by classist, racist, and otherwise bigoted impulses. This is because animals offer an innocent face for defense that conveniently cannot criticize the actions taken by their champions, and they therefore provide a great excuse for actions taken against marginalized members of human society. Think about the very first campaign the RSPCA ever did, which was banning using dogs as draft animals: a use that is not inherently harmful to dogs, which many dogs actively enjoy, but also one that was specifically used by poor Londoners and which in fact immediately resulted in a great butchery of the dogs that Londoners could no longer afford to feed rather than allowing poor people and their dogs to continue working together. No one was, of course, challenging the particular uses of dogs or any other animal favored by the wealthy. This kind of thing is so, so, so common. Obviously it doesn't mean that all interventions to prioritize animal welfare are inherently bigoted, but it does mean that we have to be critical about our choice of challenges.

On top of everything, the animal rights activist movement's obsession with "exploitation" is a function of the idea that humans are sinful or otherwise Bad in how we interact with animals by definition. For example, take the chicken rescue near me that is so obsessed with the possibility that some human somewhere might benefit from an animal in their care that they implant every hen they adopt out with hormonal implants such that the hens no longer lay eggs--a function that is normally a natural byproduct of a chicken's reproductive system, fertilized or not. A mutualistic relationship involves both parties benefiting, and that is the case for an awful lot of human relationships with animals. In general, the idea that associating with animals is a thing that can only harm animals rather than being a trade between two species to enrich one another is all over these groups. It's just so myopically focused on human shame that it prevents practical interventions that might benefit everyone, and often promotes interventions that don't directly benefit animals but sure do make humans miserable. For example, this kind of thinking is why groups like PETA are absolutely awful at effectively rescuing unwanted dogs and cats: they think pets living in "bondage" with humans are an essentially sad outcome, rather than one that might be mutually enjoyed by all parties.

I'm tired and my meds haven't kicked in, so I'm not currently going to handle the communism thing except to point out that while the US absolutely did destabilize a number of leftist regimes in South America and Africa, Russia and China between them have certainly not treated their own people kindly, either (and more so their own client-nations, as with the former members of the USSR). Please do some reading about the Holodomor and Lysenko in Russia (and frankly all of the details of Stalin's regime) and the Cultural Revolution in China in particular. Khmer Rouge might be worth looking into, too. I am not saying the US's hands are clean, you understand, because they are not; they're as steeped in red as anyone else's. What I am saying is that for people living on the ground, communist revolutions have this nasty habit of turning into bloodbaths and arbitrary slaughters. Do not let your distaste for the US's bloodsoaked imperialism (which, yes, is and was bad) let you fall into the trap of becoming a tankie.

And if you don't know what a tankie is, you really, really should take some time to learn.

[3liza]

I feel very defensive about the "goth is bougie" shit because it is historically incorrect, yes, but also and more personally, because it just erases the generations of goth kids who grew up in trailer parks and project housing or just straight up homeless, helping each other out.

it's specifically such a supportive subculture for poor and neglected kids and I really fucking hate that this has been revised and erased. juggalos and goths are very culturally close and many subcultural people are both, and juggalos have the same (and, I would argue, even better defined) culture of collective support. the Skids in Letterkenny are not made up for the show, that's just a real type of rural subcultural person. this has also been forgotten in the interim but in the 90s and 00s we didn't even really refer to OURSELVES as "goths" very much except in a joking way. goths had regional endonyms (like "skids" or "trenchies") even if they could all go to a convention or a club in a city and in that context be all called "goths" together, once they went back home they would go back to being whatever the locals called them or whatever they called themselves. this is a whole linguistics and sociology subtopic that's out of scope for a Tumblr post but is sort of related.

my point is that people who wore actual rags, and sharpie instead of nail polish, and wet n wild eyeliner instead of black lipstick, and dyed their hair with markers or food coloring or kool-aid, were and are the core of the goth scene. the majority of the pictures the mallgoth blogs are posting are from catalogs, fashion shows, costume events, yearly balls and fetes like Wave Gothik Treffen, and other places where people save up literally all year, or many years in a row, to put together ONE outfit. and there's nothing wrong with that, personally I'm proud and pleased that our hard work is being recognized and preserved. but just like formal studio photographs from the Victorian era, it is not representative of the daily or even weekly (for clubs) reality of people in the scene, some of whom were completely out of goth clothing during the day or week just to fit in at work or sometimes just to get along without being bothered at home by family members who thought the Cure was Satanic.

the people who RUN the scenes, the promoters and DJs and gogo dancers and independent designers and people who run the mailing lists and websites, the people who organize the room parties at conventions, and yes even most of the original Burning Man camps like Thunderdome, they mostly live in poverty. especially if they're young. when people organize club nights and shows, they're lucky if they break even. I wasn't aware of any of this until I started working at DNA Lounge in San Francisco, which hosts one of the oldest goth nights in the country, Death Guild. I got to know the owner of DNA well enough to find out about the financial reality of the entire scene, even the people who own the means of production and the actual property in this case, and it's not lucrative. I mean, it sometimes is, if you're running a bar for normal people and have investment captain etc, but the majority of legit subculture economics is just barely breaking even. every single event is 90% volunteer labor.

the issue of labor is maybe the confusing thing for the zoomers who are confused. goth outfits take actual physical work. maybe the Aspirational Spectacle of Labor that makes up most of TikTok has made it appear unreal to the audience rather than something you can just sit down and do?

it takes forty seconds to make the fishnet tights into a shirt. you don't need instructions, you really can just look at it and figure it out. then you think, hm, if I can make fishnets into a shirt I wonder what other things I can turn into something else. your brain will amaze you. my mom would save her tights from her formal work outfits for me when they got holes or whatever and I would just go crazy with scissors and safety pins. lots of young designers are getting attention for this layered, tights-n-pins look at the moment and it really is a fantastic aesthetic but I wonder if people think there's something special about the people who make these clothes? there isn't. you can just do it at home while you watch trashy youtubes.

one time, around 2008 or so, @gothiccharmschool and I were at the photoshoot for tabletop RPG Unhallowed Metropolis. we were there with a bunch of local goths to all make the pictures for this book together. we had all brought tons of our costumes from home to cobble together outfits for the book illustrations, and there was a moment when I just handed Jilli a pile of black skirts and some pins and said hey Jilli, could you please make me up a bustle skirt for this model real quick while I shoot these other models? and of course she did, and they were beautiful, because she knows exactly what she's doing, and because that's all a bustle is: it's a way of bunching up a skirt with another skirt. you can do it at home. you don't need instructions or to hire a seamstress or watch a video. you can just look at something and say hm does it look like a bustle? let's drape it and play with it and pin whatever works. and then you wear it for the photoshoot, or to the club!!! and then next week you pin it a different way and it's a cape instead and you wear it again!!!!!!!

[cerusee]

I've never watched any Chinese dramas but I really enjoy your posts/gifs about them and it's got me interested in trying some! Do you have any recommendations for somebody who's totally new to them? Any tropes/background context I should be aware of? The historical/fantastical ones seem the most appealing to me.

Oooooh! My first thought on reading this ask was, “oh, I’m hardly qualified”; I’m only on my *stops to count on fingers* eighth cdrama, not counting the one episode I watched of the Wang Zhuocheng xianxia where he falls in love with a rock. (Long story.) There’s a lot of cdramas out there, and I myself have not even scratched the surface of what’s out there! That said, if you’re interested in historical/fantastical dramas, those ARE the ones I’ve been watching, so I still have some opinions despite being a total noob myself.

Do not start with The Untamed/Chen Qing Ling. Twas my first cdrama, like a lot of western fans, who were drawn to it in part because of the big censored-but-still-very-evident gay love story between the male leads, but honestly, as much fun as it is for the slash fans, it’s not a great jumping off point for either Chinese television in general, or even for its own wuxia-inspired genre setting. I say this as some who is still deep in the fandom four years later, and has immense love for the show: the first two episodes are flat-out bad, the overall pacing is bad (episodes frequently stop MIDSCENE), the worldbuilding is thin (a carryover from the novel it was based on), and without a larger context for why it’s made the way it’s made (stylistic choices, industry conventions, government censorship, genre conventions) a lot about it is confusing as hell to cdrama newbies, which is…so evident…a lot…in fandom wank I mean in the discourse about what story this story is trying to tell. Like, if you came to me and asked specifically, “I’m thinking of watching CQL. Should I watch CQL?” I would say yes, absolutely! It’s so much fun! I’m obsessed with the characters! I’ve written a lot of fanfic about the purple guy! But it’s not a good first cdrama, nor it is the best example of what the Chinese TV industry has to offer.

A MUCH better first cdrama especially if you like the historical/fantastical: The Legend of the Condor Heroes (2017), which not coincidentally was my second cdrama. It’s one of about a dozen television adaptations of the classic 1957 Chinese novel of the same name by Jin Yong, generally considered to be the inventor of the genre known as wuxia, which is a blend of history, fantasy, and martial arts. (One of the most well-known examples of wuxia in the west is Ang Lee’s Oscar-winning 2000 film Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, which you have probably at least heard of.)

Legend of the Condor Heroes (hereafter known as LOCH) has it all: romance, revenge, evil plots and daring deeds, people jumping off a burning mountain and being rescued by the worst CGIed eagles known to television or cinema, boat adventures, mountain adventures, grasslands adventures, a weird cult leader who lives on a spooky flower island (there will be math), murder, baby kidnapping, more murder, one guy inadvertently racking up a ridiculous number of martial arts teachers, sworn brotherhoods which invariably end with one guy stabbing the other, lots of VERY good martial arts fights, and, of course, Genghis Khan. Technically there are no magic/supernatural elements in this show—no ghosts, ghouls, magic, angels, devils, gods, etc—although the martial artists do have l33t skillz that might qualify as superhuman depending on how you slice your genre conventions, and are awfully fun to watch.

I’ve actually seen two LOCH adaptations (there was one in 2024 I liked a lot, with my favorite Guo Jing so far), but 2017 is a much better adaptation for newcomers as it tells a fuller version of the story and doesn’t skimp on or rush through or rewrite as many elements of the plot as other versions do; it’s meant to be a LOCH for people who haven’t seen half a dozen versions of LOCH already. It has a WONDERFUL cast, including my one of my favorite cdrama leading men, Chen Xingxu,* as the lead antagonist, Yang Kang, who is a trash fire of a person you just can’t root for, but he also can’t help it because he was raised by Wanyin Honglie. You can catch it on YouTube (I recall that there are couple of missing episodes from that playlist, but you can search on YT for those when you get there, to find them subtitled from other channels.)

*If you, like me, come away from LOCH 2017 with your mouth slightly ajar at how great CXX is, I have wonderful news for you! He’s been a lead in at least two other very good cdramas: the 2023 xianxia** The Starry Love, where he gets to play, like, five different characters (huge acting flex, and he’s great, although I would rush to stress I loved a ton of things about this show besides CXX himself), and the 2019 semi-historical drama Goodbye My Princess, which might actually be my favorite cdrama I have seen to date, and arguably THEE best well-made on a technical level, with phenomenal acting, a great script, and editing and directing I am constantly swooning over, but I am not entirely sure I can recommend to you unless you are a Tragedy Enjoyer.

(If you are a Tragedy Enjoyer, please stop whatever you’re doing and just start watching Goodbye My Princess right now, it is phenomenal. It is also available on YouTube. Watch the Director’s Cut, not the regular one! This is important. In its haste to get the main leads on screen together ASAP, the regular version does a Reader’s Digest version of stuff the Director’s Cut spends like five episodes carefully setting up, and it doesn’t make a lot of sense, nor does it flow well.)

**Speaking of xianxia! Xianxia is the high fantasy genre, full of magic and gods and demons and people dying and living multiple lives and whatnot. Important to note: xianxias are soap operas (complimentary). They tend to feature female protagonists, sweeping, epic romances, and put enormous emphasis on exploring the nuances of relationships and emotions. I have watched three that I loved (Love Between Fairy and Devil, The Starry Love, and Eternal Love: Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms), and while technically I could recommend all three, if you were going to watch just one, especially as a cdrama intro, I have to recommend Eternal Love, which really is the quintessential xianxia, the one all other xianxias are kind of shaping themselves around. I have watched it 1.5 times and I can say that it does not properly take off until like, episode 10, or whenever it is that the main couple finally, properly meet. IT IS WORTH THE INVESTMENT. This show made me want to spit blood. I cried multiple times watching it. It made me feel things. It has a wonderful immersive quality that’s hard to describe except to say that the entire show sort of vibrates on its own frequency. The casting is just kind of…perfect? Props to Maggie Huang for portraying the most perfectly hatable xianxia villainess of all time. Absolutely no one is doing it like Su Jin. No one should try. I believe this is available on YouTube, but after an abortive start, I realized it was on US Netflix, and watched it there.

As for tropes and background context: ehhhhhh. I mean, it’s an entire industry? I know substantially less about how it functions than I do about, like, American TV and film. I know government censorship is a not-inconsiderable factor, but I don’t know much of the nuance of how that plays out in terms of filming and airing. Tropes will vary according to subject. Idol dramas (shows built to showcase media personalities regardless of their ability to act) are a thing. Most cdrama audio is still dubbed (this one surprised me!), usually by professional voice actors and not by the original cast, for a confluence of reasons, some of which historically make sense (noisy filming lots rendering original audio useless), and some of which are really stupid (fans throwing hissy fits if lead actors don’t have the “right” kinds of voices for their characters).

Anyway! My recommendations are this: try The Legend of the Condor Heroes (2017) to start with, UNLESS you would prefer having your heart ripped out of your chest, in which case watch Goodbye My Princess (Director’s Cut, 2019), or UNLESS you love soap operas as much as I do, in which case watch Eternal Love: Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms (2017). All three are great shows, but they all hit differently/scratch a different itch.

Oh! Lastly! @dangermousie is a great source of cdrama recs. I should note she prefers dramas and tragedies and mostly does not vibe with xianxias. But she watches like eight million hours of dramas a week and reports her findings to us because she is a river to her people.

[andy-wm]

"Who wouldn't want it when he looks like that?"

Yes, Olly Alexander knew exactly how JK felt

I've been absent, I know. Life. But look, one chirp ;) from the lovebirds and I'm back hehehe

With no preamble I'm going to sweep straight past the cute and charming interactions between Jimin & JK on Weverse - always together - and only glance at JK's song recommendations because right now I'm more interested in what came before.

This post by the fabulous @slaaverin, about JK and the song he posted 10 years ago - Memo by Years & Years - hit me so hard in the feels, I had to sit down. Even though I've mostly paid attention to their song recommendations (yes, I know I can do better) this one passed me by completely.

How could I not know that JK posted a song by Years & Years??!

And especially in 2015, when he was really going through it. He had feelings bigger than a house and nowhere to put them.

This for me is a key moment. Watch Gayo 4 and tell me JK wasn't dying of love.

He was - and still is - a boy with big feelings that he doesn't always have words for. His face and body language have told us that he's filled up to the brim but he seems to keep it inside unless he's made up his mind to say something.

Which of course makes the song recommendations in 2015 so significant. We know it wasn't only about the songs - it never is - it's all about how he's feeling at he time. And he picks out the lines so carefully, so precisely, so that they can speak for him.

And if you read the lyrics of all those songs from 2015 and focus on the lines he picked out, there's a clear message.

I'm pretty sure he wasn't looking at Eels cover of Elvis's Can't Help Falling In Love for musical inspiration. And picking out I'll give you my everything - a cheesy love song from the '70s - so he could say I have something to tell you? Neatly in between the 2015 Osaka fan-meet and the notorious RBT concert in Hong Kong?

Smooth...

Very smooth, JK

He was in love. He was in lust. He was probably confused and afraid of the consequences, but he couldn't let it go. I know this has been thoroughly dissected so I won't go down that path.

What I am stuck on here, is Years & Years.

Where some of the lines he posted could be the result of searching for songs with particular words in the lyrics, like I have something to tell you, Memo doesn't hit the same way.

I want more (x4) isn't romantic or emotive like some song lines he chose and also it doesn't convey a specific message like others. Without hearing the rest of the song it feels a little brash but in the context of the rest of the lyrics, and with the gentle melody, it's honestly very soft.

He must have listened to a lot of Years & Years because Memo is a beautiful song but it isn't one of their hits. It vanished into obscurity pretty quickly.

Memo wasn't just an LGBT+ song. Years and Years was a very brazenly LGBT+ group.

Olly is a huge icon.

Gay, out, and unapologetic, Olly was singing pop songs about genuine personal feelings and experiences. The songs explored all the nuanced feelings of lust, yearning, hurt, and uncertainty that come with falling in love. They have authenticity. They're the same type of songs Troye was singing in 2016 but a little more... adult. A little further along the track towards resolution. Olly was living the life of a young gay man and his songs reflect that. The content is pretty direct.

Years & Years weren't huge like The Pet Shop Boys, Depeche Mode, or The Communards, but they were successful and popular especially amongst the lgbt+ community. They did get radio play in the UK too. Outside of that I think the group was relatively niche.

And yet, JK found them.

That he found them, says to me the he was searching for something. Searching for ways to make sense of his feelings in an environment that would be stifling for a young queer boy who was in love with his best friend.

The songs might not have been #1 on Billboard, but what they WERE was authentic and unambiguous.

Maybe I'm making too much of it but it makes me wonder where he would have been without a group like Years and Years.

If he hadn't heard those words in those songs, and felt the connection with the feelings expressed, would he have had certainty that what he felt was honest and real?

If he hadn't listened to someone else articulate emotions he could relate to, would he have had the words to describe his feelings when he finally confessed?

If Years & Years, and particularly Olly Alexander, hadn't been as successful as they were in 2015, would he have had the determination to face up to the company?

Who knows... maybe none of it really mattered and it was just a line from a song that he liked. But knowing - as ARMY - how much music can change your perception and your life, I don't think that's true. I think it meant something.

I'm so glad he found them.

💗💜💗

In case you've never seen him in action, here's Olly with the other members of Y&Y in concert at YES24 Hall in October 2022. He's wearing a yellow body stocking and thigh boots. Absolutely stunning performers.