#anyway i'm talking into the void and if you read this far i hope you have a good day <3

[nctsworld]

[reiderwriter]

I’d love if you could do a very fluffy-smut with Spencer, like you had a tough case and the day after he calls asking you to go to his apartment and you see he has made food & made a fort to watch movies with fairy lights and just everything really romantic & it ending with very slow/soft sex🩵

A/N: I loved writing this one! Spencer is absolutely the type to build a perfectly engineered pillow fort just because you're having a bad day 😭😭 I hope you enjoy it!!

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, soft sex, oral sex (f receiving), slow/ gentle sex, multiple orgasms, implied creampie/ no contraception mentioned :) tee hee

There was something about the cases that took you to the other side of the country that sunk the ache into your bones just that little bit more. 

It didn't matter if you were going for a kidnapping or a serial or a spree, you always returned more weary than before. The weeks work that you endured was never as tough as returning home to your empty apartment, to the cold floor and the lonely bed. 

This time, your case had a happy ending. You weren't sure how many more of them you were going to be able to live through before the bad endings rendered them null and void. It didn't matter how many people you saved some days because your brain was crowded with the names and faces of the ones you didn't. 

The drive home from Quantico was unsurprisingly quiet. Having landed in the dead of night, there were never going to be too many people on the roads to your apartment. 

You weren't sure if it was fate, or the fact that you hadn't eaten anything in the last 18 hours that made you pull over to the side of the road to pick something up from the 24 hour drive thru, but in the end you were glad you did. 

The second you pulled your car off the road, taking a breather and deciding to stretch your legs a bit before going in to order, your phone screen lit up. 

“Spencer,” you answered the phone, “what's up?” 

“Y/N, hey, I just got home. Listen, remember last month I was talking to you about that one indie film that I couldn't find anywhere? Well, a friend of mine from college just sent me a file entitled ‘the movie.’” 

You weren't sure if it was Spencer’s enthusiasm or just the way you were always ready to drop anything to do something with him that had you giggling and nodding along. You didn't remember the discussion, let alone the movie he meant, but you liked hearing him talk about the things he was passionate about. 

“So I was thinking, we're both probably not going to get much sleep anyway since we clocked out only 23 minutes ago - movie night?” 

“You couldn't have called at a better time, Spencer. I'm grabbing food, text me your order and I'll see you in 15.”

-X-

The drive to Spencer’s apartment was clear, but the hum in the air was lighter than  the silence of before. By the time you pulled onto his street, your mood had already brightened significantly.

You trudged up to his apartment softly so as not to cause any complaints and sent him a text to let him know you were waiting outside. 

You knew instantly that he'd received and read it - the garbled sound of the large man tripping over his feet in his attempt to rush to the door were the same every time you arrived. Stubbing his toe on some pile of books or the other was practically ritual. 

“Hi,” he whispered, opening the door just a crack and giving you a bright smile. 

“Hi,” you smiled back. “I bought food.”

“Perfect. That's perfect. You're… come on in. It's cold, right?” He guided you into the small entryway in his apartment and let you drop your keys with his as if they were supposed to be tangled together. 

“I have a little surprise.” He said, suddenly sounding bashful as he grabbed for your hand in the dark - you hadn't realised as he'd led you in but there were no lights on in the small apartment on at all, as far as you could tell. 

“What? Spencer-” 

“You'll like it, I promise, you just have to trust me.” You relaxed as he wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you with him into his living space. His hand was warm as it settled against the small on your back, and his chest was surprisingly broad and firm as you brought up your hands to steady yourself against him. 

“Okay, now close your eyes.” 

“The apartment is pitch black. Why am I closing my eyes?” You giggled a little, surprised that your whole body felt so light and calm now, when it had felt so terrible only half an hour before. 

“Trust me,” he said, and you did. Truth be told, your eyes were already shut before the words had even left his mouth. 

“Okay, you can open them now.” 

He must have flipped a light switch the second you opened your eyes because your vision was blurred by the dazzling light when you did. 

Blinking through the adjustment, you started making out shapes and couldn't stop the small tears that pricked the corners of your eyes. 

He hadn't just invited you around for a movie night - he'd built a fort. Held up by a few chairs and piles of books, he'd managed to prop up at least three layers of blanket to surround the most comfortable looking floor you'd ever seen. 

You didn't even know he owned this many pillows, but when he tugged your hand down as he began to move into the fort, you didn't need to care. 

Not with his fingers gently laced with yours and the fairy lights he'd surrounded everything with, giving his skin a golden glow. You didn't need any explanation. You just needed him to hold you. 

“Spencer this is beautiful,” you whispered, sound dampened by the lump in your throat that you tried to swallow, to no relief. “This must've taken so much time. How did you even-”

“PhD in Engineering. I don't get much use out of it these days, but it certainly comes in handy.” 

You couldn't help the laugh that burst from you, the tears finally flowing as tears of joy. 

“Spencer, what is all this for?” 

“It's just because. You looked like you had a hard day, and I enjoy spending time with you.” 

They weren't the most romantic words in the world. They probably didn't come close to some quotes he could recite as easily as breathing. But they hit you hard and fast. 

You knew you were in love with Spencer Reid long before this moment, but there was no holding back the flood after hearing the sincerity in his voice. 

You slowly stretched your neck up and pressed your lips against his. It was fleeting, a small moment that if this didn't pan out, you could brush off as a friendly show of appreciation. 

You pulled away to gauge his reaction, but you didn't get to. His hand on your neck had pulled you back to him for another slow, but deep kiss, and it was as if your entire body was on fire in those sheets. 

You weren't sure how long you spent breathing each other in, exploring each others lips softly. You just knew you were growing desperate for more. You didn't notice that you'd climbed into his lap until your eagerness knocked him onto his back, forcing you apart. 

Your chest lay atop his as you both gasped for air, legs tangled, eyes locked as both of you feared talking first. 

After almost too long without anything said or done, Spencer chose silence again, flipping your positions so you were the one on your back on the pillows as he hovered over you, lips meeting yours again. 

This time, you made the conscious decision to wrap your legs up around his waist, hand tangling in his hair as you smiled and giggled against his kisses, so obliviously happy to be there with him. 

“I love you,” you whispered between kisses, not even hesitating for a second to contemplate whether he felt the same. 

“I love you more,” he said as if it were a competition where you both won in the end. 

You became more talkative after that, responding to every touch, every kiss with praise and a confession, a moan as his fingers pushed under your shirt, a shaky breath as they unbuttoned your pants. 

“Fuck, Spencer, please touch me more,” you begged as his hand toyed with your nipple, having discarded your shirt and bra quickly after receiving permission to do so. 

“I will. I want to know all of you,” his voice was strong even in a whisper, as he dropped his head to your other nipple to begin suckling and teasing you. 

You always thought his hair would be soft, had been tempted on multiple occasions to tuck a strand behind his ear, or just run a hand through it, and now you held it firm, pushing him further into your chest as you arched into his mouth. 

“I want to feel m-more of you, Spencer.” 

He raised his gaze to you as he let go of your nipple with a pop and quietly complied with your will. Trailing his head lower, he kissed across the expanse of your stomach, biting and sucking here and there to leave a path of markings in his wake before arriving right where he wanted to be. 

He made quick work of your pants and panties both, surprised that a man who never failed to bump into things in his own living space could be so graceful when it came to divesting you of your clothing. 

You couldn't ponder for too long as he dived between your legs, spreading you open like a book he needed to read and memorise. His to guess hit your clit quickly, and a few twitches and moans here and there showed him how you liked it, where you needed him and his tongue. 

You again got to grasp his hair  pulling him further into your wet cunt as you chased your high, needing so desperately to ride out an orgasm against his face. 

When his two fingers stretched you open, you practically drowned him, thighs clamping shut as your brain emptied itself of stress. 

You calmed down and watched him come up for air, fingers still slowly and gently pumping inside of you, reminding you that this wasn't over. 

“You taste sweet.” 

“I know how much you like sweet things.” Your juices glistened on his lips and chin, a few drops running down his neck as you stared at him with pure desperation in your eyes. 

“Spencer, please, fuck-” his fingers picked up speed every time you tried again.

“Spencer, fuck me, please  just fuc-”

“As you wish, Y/N.” 

He didn't bother removing his own clothing, though you desperately wanted to see his entire length and explore him just as he had with you. 

But after cumming on his face already, you decided you'd let him go with whatever he wanted. 

Shifting up behind you as you laid there, he gently rolled your body onto its side as he pulled your back towards him, giving him better access to your cunt as you arched into him again. 

He sank in slowly, almost as if he was scared to break you, but didn't stop until he was almost fully inside of you, practically sheathed. 

He adjusted his hold on you, wrapping both arms around your waist and pulling your back flush against his chest as he pressed open-mouthed kisses against your neck.

With deep, slow strokes, he made love to you. You weren't sure if it was the fairy lights, or if it was just that good, but you saw stars, saw them burnt into your eyes, watched them every time the pleasure felt too good and your eyes rolled back into your head. 

The second orgasm came slower than the first, but it was just as hot. 

“Y/N, look at me - you're so beautiful, I want to watch you cum.”

“Spencer, love- I love you, I love you, fuck, oh my god, I love you so much.” You reached for his lips but he pressed his forehead against yours as he whispered in your ear a final time: “cum for me now.” 

Your body wasn't one for taking your queues, but it responded to him as if he'd been the missing part you'd missed this entire time. 

Your cunt tightened around him, milking his cock as he moaned and released seconds after you did. 

You lay tangled in those blankets and pillows for hours after, and you weren't afraid or lonely anymore. 

[wwilloww]

sh. | chapter twenty two | pjm

PAIRING ot7 x reader RATING Explicit. 18+. GENRE smut. fluff. angst. nonidol au. wildnerness au. roommates au. friends to lovers. SUMMARY Six months of quarantine have kept you apart. Somehow the distance sparks something new in each of you: questions, unfinished conversations, threads once chased now left cold. So when your roommate invites you to come with him to a mysterious house in the mountains with your friends, how could you even think of saying no? WC 4.8k WARNINGS AND TAGS no use of gendered pronouns to refer to reader. consensual objectification. d/s dynamic. over the panty sex (is this just called dry humping?) fucktoy-ification? teasing. orgasm denial.

AN hi :) i'm so sorry i made you wait so long for this. it's been a rollercoaster these last two years, and i hope you can forgive me for my long absence. if you enjoyed this chapter, i'd love to hear from you: what stuck out to you, what you're hoping will happen in future chapters, or just how you've been. i've missed you. and, as always, thank you for reading <3

← || series m.list || →

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: RULE BREAKER

You don’t talk or think much about your childhood. You like to imagine that when you turned eighteen those years whispered away into the ether of time, as irrelevant and dusty as the old photobook that stays on the shelf, eternally unopened. 

As a child, home was multiplied and many. It was the many places you lived, as you moved often, following your father around with his job. But it was also many in the sense that you learned at a young age that home didn’t have to be a place you lived. Home was between the worn and finger-marred pages of the books you fell in love with, home was the wisping scent of fresh (if not often burnt) pastry in your grandmother’s kitchen each time you visited, home was the place you yearned to travel to but never made the time to visit. 

But as you close the book in your hands, the words echo in your mind: 

Are you going to come home? 

You feel far away from home, even though you find a great deal of comfort in the walls of Namjoon’s mountain house. Ahem, mansion. Confusion riddles little holes of worry through you. Where is home, anyways? The small apartment you left empty in the city? The question opens a void in you. Why bother with home anyways? Sure, home could be anything if you tried hard enough, but couldn’t the opposite be true too? That if you tried hard enough, you wouldn’t need a home?

Still, void and all, the question nudges you. 

Unsettled, you clamber down the tree and make your way back towards the house. The sun has risen higher in the sky and breaks through the chill ever so slightly. Worried that you’ve just abandoned Jimin this morning and that he’ll wake up alone, you quicken your pace. You creak the door open, waving at Jungkook and Jin and Taehyung in the kitchen, who are huddled over the coffee, waiting for it to finish brewing. 

“A watched pot never boils,” you call out to them, noting that Jungkook looks a little cheerier than he had the past several days. Jin’s hand rests on Jungkook’s lower back and a little wave of joy jolts through you as the older man throws you a little smile. 

“Watching it actually makes it go faster,” Jungkook says, his eyes glued to the coffee. “A little motivation and encouragement always lends a helping hand.” 

You smile at that and continue making your way towards Jimin’s bedroom. You pass one room—a gym of sorts filled with a few cardio machines, a set of free weights, and a large mirror, and you’re surprised you didn’t notice it before—and pause. 

Namjoon is spotting Hoseok as the latter bench presses what looks like an unreasonably heavy weight. 

As you watch them, the dream from last night floods back to you. 

The music filtering through the night. The tightness of each man’s grip on you as they spun you through the ballroom, the floorboards creaking beneath you, the high of attention sitting heady in your chest. 

And too, you can’t forget, the way they stared at each other in single-minded competition, hackles raised, teeth gritted. You can’t forget the darkness that swirled at their feet, and you wonder too, if you’re letting your dream drift into the world of the living too.

But here they are, fondly smiling at one another. Had you made it all up? Well, of course you made it up. It was a regency-era dream for god's sake. But the tension? The competition? As Namjoon helps Hoseok lower the weights to the bar and hauls him to his feet, you’re sure it’s all in your head. 

“Nice, man,” Namjoon says, grinning and clasping Hoseok on the back. 

Before they see you, you continue on. Just as you’re about to open the door to the bedroom you’ve been searching for, it swings open before you. Jimin steps out. 

“Oh. You’re awake!” you say.

“I am indeed.” 

“I’m sorry I left this morning—“ 

“It’s okay,” he says, but there’s a tinge of sadness in his voice, a little dust mote of it that you catch. 

“I went to go read in a tree,” you offer quickly as an explanation, hoping it will make up for the disappointment of waking up alone after not spending a night together in a while. 

“In a tree?” 

“In a tree,” you confirm. 

He chuckles. “That seems like a good enough reason to abandon me. I gotta be honest though—“ He steps closer, lets his gaze flicker down, and toys with the hem of your shirt. “I was looking forward to waking up beside you.” 

“Were you?” you smile. 

“I was. I was even looking forward to potentially getting to wake you up.” He says it with a mischievous grin. 

“Oh? And how would you have woken me up?”

His hand drifts lower, beneath the band of your leggings. “You know, it’s really easier to show you, rather than tell you—” His hands pause. “What’s this?” Jimin sends you a knowing look. 

“What?” Your mind sputters as you struggle to come up with what he might be talking about. But he steps closer to you, a hand drifting down to your hips, a finger pulling your shirt up. With his other hand he plucks at the band of your panties. 

“This,” he emphasizes. 

“Oh.” 

You’d nearly forgotten the promise you’d made to Jimin. But now it all comes rushing back, how he’d made you promise in those early days in the house to forgo any underwear. At the time it’d been a silly dare, but the seriousness in his eyes makes you reconsider. 

“What? Do I have to remind you every day?” he says gently. “Or perhaps I haven’t been spending enough time around you, and you’ve forgotten your promise to me?”

“N-no,” you say. “I mean maybe. Maybe I want you around more.” You sidle up to him, running a finger up his chest. “Maybe… I want you to remind me.” 

Jimin steps closer to you, pressing you against the bedroom door. You gasp when he leans in close, close enough to kiss you, but doesn’t. 

“I think you forget too quickly that  I told you there’d be a punishment if you ‘forgot’ about our little rule.” 

“Oh?” You tilt your head as you look at him. “What kind of punishment?” Panties or not, it seems like you win. 

“Like I mentioned earlier, I think I’d rather show you than explain it to you. Let’s just say I’m a hands-on kind of teacher.” 

You think he’s going to kiss you, but instead he presses close, his lips a centimeter away from yours, his hands cupping your cheeks before wandering down to explore your body. You reach for him, struggle to bring his lips to yours, but he shifts his attention elsewhere, leaving you hanging. His hands rove over your body, his lips dip out of reach. So you change your plan of attack too. You let your hands wander over him. When you feel his breath quicken against you, you release him, dipping your head below his chin.

You glide your lips down Jimin’s neck, slow and intentional; a calculated move. You let your breath whisper against his skin, and you can’t help but think back to that night with Yoongi and Namjoon in which sensation—even the lightest of touches—had meant so much to you. To your body. You want to play Jimin like they played you. 

His hands tighten in your shirt, knuckles whitening. 

“Inside,” he gasps, and the desperation in his voice makes you think that he’s lost a bit of his fine-tuned control. His eyes are blown wide. He looks like he could eat you up. “Inside,” he repeats, but enacts the command himself as he pulls you through the door with him, making it sound a little more like a plea than you think he intends.

The pair of you tumble onto the bed, a mess of limbs and lips, teeth, hands. 

He captures your lips, finally, kissing you. The kiss is anything but gentle, nearing the edge of pain, his teeth knocking against yours, nipping at your lips. You groan into his mouth as his hips cant against you. 

It’s not long before he begins to tug at your clothes. 

Then he pauses, lifting your head from his lips. You’re sprawled atop him and you lift yourself up on your hands. 

“What?” you inquire curiously.

“I’m going to ask you to do something.” 

“Alright.”

With a leveled gaze, he says, “Strip.” 

He pushes you off of him, and you kneel at the foot of the bed, pausing a second, before making the executive decision to stand and undress. It’ll be more, well, graceful that way, you think. The alternative is flopping around on the sheets like a beached hammerhead shark trying to get your pants off. 

So you do as you’re told. There’s something about undressing before him, as he leans back against the headboard, watching you. There’s something about undressing for him, while he watches on, his gaze drinking you in that has sparks running through your body.

Slowly, slowly you slip off your top, and wiggle your leggings off your legs. You try to make it a little sexy, glancing up at him from time to time, to find that warm darkness swirling in his gaze that you love so much. You trip once, because you’re staring too much. 

“Keep the panties on,” he says when you go to pull them down.  

“Oh. Okay.”  Your brow furrows and you can’t help but let a little bit of the disappointment you’re feeling into your voice. You’re a little confused why he would ask you to keep them on when they were the problem that started all of this. 

He stands then, walking towards you. You hold your breath. He finally arrives before you and places his hands on your hips. His fingers toy with the trim of the panties, and goosebumps race along your skin from the delicate touch. 

“What are you going to do?” you ask, your voice breathy.

“You’ll see.” 

With that he hooks a finger under the band of your underwear and lets it snap against your skin. You cry out, more in surprise than anything else. 

“Did that hurt?” 

“No, not really.” 

“Good.” He grins. “Now, I want you to be honest.” 

“I’m always honest.” You correct yourself: “Most of the time. Most of the time I’m always honest.” 

Jimin chuckles at that. 

“Fair enough. But I need your most-of-the-time-always honesty now.” You nod, your hand drifting upward to grip his forearm. 

“Of course.” 

“I want to try something out with you. Something new.” 

“New?”

“A new kind of play.”

Your mind reels with the possibilities. What could he possibly suggest? Chastity kink? Tittyfucking? Technojizz? Ballcuzzi?  

“I want to use you like a toy,” he whispers. “I want to fuck you like a toy. I want to talk to you like a toy, treat you like one.” Your eyes widen when he says it. His eyes go wide too, drinking in your every microexpression, as he waits for you to respond. 

“A toy?” 

“Yes.”

“Where did this come from?” you say it with a little smile, and trace your finger along his jawline. He relaxes at the touch. 

“I saw the way you reacted during group play. When Jin was talking to you, saying things like, ‘You want to be our slut. You want to be our whore.’” Just hearing Jimin repeating Jin’s words sends a shiver through your body. “He didn’t say it like I would have said it, but I knew he wanted to.” He presses his lips to your ear while his hands rove over your body. “You want to be our toy, don’t you?”  

The answer is easy. “Yes.” 

“You want to be used by us, don’t you?” 

“Y-yes.” 

He chuckles. “That’s what I thought. So tell me. Tell me what you want to be.” 

“I want to be your toy.” 

“Good.” He grins. 

He lets his hand drift down to your underwear again, fingers trailing along the inside the elastic hem before plucking at them once more. He seems to like the way you flinch. 

His fingers wander down your skin. He traces your hip, before flicking his fingers beneath the hem that circles your thigh. Slowly, he creeps closer to where you want his fingers most, but before he can touch you, he pulls his fingers away. You nearly groan, and a fleeting grimace crosses your face. Jimin catches it. 

“Patience would look so pretty on you,” he says, and the sting of his words is delightful. 

“Hmph.” 

His fingers continue to explore the thin piece of fabric that separates you from total nudity. They’re not a particularly pretty pair of underwear: they’re nothing more than a tan color brief. 

You say as much to Jimin, and tell him you wish you were wearing something sexier. Lace, maybe. Something black. 

“True,” he replies. “But you know why I like these?” 

“Why?” 

“Because I can see you dripping through them.” 

You warm at the implication.   

“And when I push my cock against them, I’ll see me on them too. I’m a visual man, you know.” He kind of chuckles at that last bit, like it’s some sort of inside joke with himself. 

When he drops to his knees, like that first day in the forest with him, you gasp. Finally, finally, he’s going to touch you. 

But when his tongue presses against you through the fabric of your underwear, it’s only half the sensation you need from him. Still, it feels good, a gentle warmth spreading through your abdomen as he licks and presses against your clit and vulva. 

“You taste so good,” he murmurs against you. 

“I’m—“ 

“You’ve soaked your panties through.” 

You warm at the thought, such little stimulation getting you so ready for him. You wonder if he’ll fuck you hard and fast or if he’ll take you sweet and slow. If he’ll take his time with you. Whatever he decides to do, you know you’ll be happy to have him fill you as you currently clench and tighten around nothing. It’s an empty feeling that sifts through you. 

When he’s thoroughly soaked your underwear with his mouth, he stands and kisses you. You can taste the ghost of yourself on him, and it reminds you of the smell of first summer light hitting the ground at dawn. A space when it is neither day, nor night, but some third plane of existence. Like that, in this moment, you feel like some third kind of creature. Neither yourself entirely, nor Jimin, but some other, third thing that you could only become in his presence. You can feel the shit-eating grin that glides across his lips and presses into yours as he walks backwards, leading you back to the bed. 

There’s something different, too, about all of this, about the way he kisses you today. There’s an edge of desperation, of frustration that you can taste on him. His movements are quicker, less languid. His lids are lidded. His breath comes quicker.  It’s delightful. 

But it’s also brand new. It feels like he has let a part of himself loose from under his usual state of control, and you wonder if your most recent conversation with your friends—where you discussed emotionality and feeling—had anything to do with what he was going through. What he wanted. 

An edge of anxiety tickles at your throat as you think of it. Does he want something more? 

He seems to notice your hesitation. 

“I just want you right now,” he says, as if he’s read your mind. He stops you at the edge of the bed, turns you so that the back of your knees hit the mattress.  You’re not sure if he’s a mind reader or what. 

You fall back into the bed, Jimin leading you down gently with a hand against your back until you sink into the soft bedding. You can’t help but giggle at the gentleness. Not that you have anything against it, but in this moment you feel anything but a toy. The way he looks at you makes you feel, well, precious. 

He breaks his gaze to kiss you again, tongue pressing against your lips. 

“Open up for me,” he says. “Like a good kitten—Like a good toy.” 

You do as you’ve been told, opening your mouth and letting him swirl his tongue through you, swiping at the roof of your mouth and sending tingles down your spine. 

His hands drift down your body before slipping beneath your panties. You glow, so eager for his touch, groaning as his fingers swipe against your clit. Just once. But as if he’s just realized a mistake he’s made, he rapidly pulls his hand out. 

“Oops. Got a little caught up.” 

You pout. “What, you’re not going to touch me like that? There? At all?” 

He pulls back enough to flick his gaze between your eyes and your lips. “Be a good toy and just do what you’re told.” 

“Oh?” The bratty part of you flickers and rises up.

He silences you with a kiss, his fingers circling around your clothed entrance before trying to press in through the thin fabric of your underwear. It’s like he’s trying to finger fuck you through the wet cotton, pushing it into you with his fingers. The pressure surely is something, but it’s not even a hint of enough, and you find your hips bucking up against him, seeking more attention, seeking more pressure. 

“So needy. So desperate.” 

He continues until the yearn within you aches.

“Stop playing,” you gasp. “Just give me your cock. Want you. Want your cock. I’ll be your toy, just–just use me like one.” 

“Don’t good toys say please?” 

“Please, sir.”

He freezes above you. 

“Sir?” 

“I—I… It just slipped out!” 

He grins. “I kinda like it.” He hums, as if contemplating it, then nods. “And since you’ve asked so nicely—“  

Jimin leans back enough to begin unbuttoning his shirt. He takes his time, while the knot in your belly begins to recede. You sit up, eager to help him out of it, but he quickly swats your hands away. 

“Patience, kitten.” 

You don’t say it, but your crossed arms and pout say, “Fine, sir,”  loud and clear. He laughs at your expression. 

“Don’t you worry,” he says, tilting your chin up. “I’ve always taken care of you, haven’t I?” 

He takes his cock out, stroking it once, twice, his hand gliding expertly over the soft and sensitive skin. 

“I’m going to use you like you’re good for.”

“Like I’m good for?” You echo, desperate for him. 

“All you’re good for,” he whispers in your ear and the words send a shiver of pleasure down your spine.  

With one hand, he takes your ankles and pushes them over your head.

“Hold them.” 

He then settles between your legs, hand wrapped tightly around his cock. With a movement that seems far too familiar to him, he slaps your pussy with his hard and dripping cock, and you groan. Fuck. 

Lowering himself to you, so your thighs press into his shoulders, he finally aligns his cock with your clothed vulva. 

And then with one careful movement, he grinds against you. The simple movement is enough to make you cry out. 

“Fuck, Jimin.” 

At first it’s slow, his cock pressing against your vulva in rhythmic pulses, your clit. At one point he pulls back and presses the head of his cock to your clothed entrance and presses in. 

You whine against him, but he doesn’t acknowledge you. He simply returns to continuing his thrusts. You’re just as wet as he is hard, soaking your panties, his precome painting them too. 

“Maybe I would have woken you up like this. Wouldn’t you have liked that? Waking up to my hard cock pressing against your clit, me ready to come, just from rutting against you? Wouldn’t that make you happy, to know how good you make me feel?”

You look down to where your bodies are pressed together. His cock rhythmically pokes up, the head dark and heavy. Sometimes though, the head of his cock gets stuck on your underwear, pushing the fabric higher and tighter around you. You groan at the sight. 

“Don’t you love how good you make me feel?”  

Your hips buck together, finding a desperate, shared rhythm. Your breath, too, matches up. 

For a moment, your eyes lock. All you can think about is how damn pretty he looks when he fucks, his dark hair falling into his face, his cheeks flushed, his plush lower lip caught between his teeth. And he looks back. 

But then his eyes flicker away from yours. 

He fucks you over your panties, murmuring how good of a toy you are for him, how he wishes he could fuck you properly, fill you up.

“Please,” you gasp, desperate for more. “Fuck me.”

“When you behave,” he grunts. “I will.” Another thrust. “When you follow my rules, I will.” 

When he comes, he presses the head of his cock to your clit. You can feel it twitching against you as he groans and sighs, his come painting your panties white. 

With the head of his cock pressing so rhythmically against your clit, you’ve built up to a delicious pleasure, so close to coming. 

“Jimin, Jimin, I’m so close. Please.” Your hips tilt up, searching out the pleasure he keeps denying you. 

But Jimin just grins at you and sighs dramatically. His breath still comes a little quickly, he seems a little winded.  

“If only you hadn’t been so intent on misbehaving earlier. Maybe I could have let you come.” 

“Oh, come on,” you groan, about a second away from throwing your fists on the bed in proper tantrum form. “You’re in charge. You write the rules. Who said you can’t let me come?” 

“The rules I wrote say so, actually.” 

You huff. 

“Well then. Maybe I’ll just have to take care of it myself.” 

In a swift action, Jimin leans over you, pinning your hands above your head. Your breath leaves your lungs in a quick gasp. 

“Wha—” 

“I think you know you’re not even supposed to be thinking about that, let alone doing it.” 

You tilt your head.

Jimin laughs, a hint of playful hardness in his voice. “Don’t you remember?” You shake your head. “You’re forgetting all of your promises today, aren’t you? Jin had you promise that you wouldn’t be coming unless it was because of one of us.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“Shit. I forgot.” 

“I know you forgot.” 

You throw your head back and groan. “But I thought you said you’d always take care of me.” 

“I did. And I do. But sometimes it’s good for you to wait a little for your reward. Today you took your punishment—” He tilts your head up so you’re looking at him and the pout that had taken over your face fades a little. “And tomorrow, I’ll give you your reward.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Fine.”

“You think you can do that? Wait until tomorrow?” 

“Yeah.” You sigh. 

“You’re so good for me,” he says, pressing a kiss to your lips. His hands glide down to your hips, dipping beneath the band and you think, oh, maybe he’ll do it now. But your hopes are quickly dashed when he tugs on them and says, “Maybe it was a good thing I had you wear these afterall.” He shimmies your come-stained underwear down your thighs. “Easy cleanup.” 

You can’t help but laugh at that, always surprised when Jimin’s practical side pops out alongside his gregariousness. But he balls the panties up, and before tossing them into the laundry basket near the door, holds them up in his hand, shaking them, as if directing attention to them. 

 “I should remind you why I asked you to do this?” 

“I know why you asked me to. You liked the secret of it—?” You think back to what he had said to you, all those days ago, though it feels like a lifetime ago:

“I like walking around, knowing I’m the only one who has your sweetness on my tongue. I love talking to the others while getting to taste you still. Getting to remember the way you squirm underneath my touch. I do it because I want to.”

You still shiver, thinking of those words. But that had been before everyone knew about you and Jimin. 

“I did like the secret of it,” Jimin says, breaking through your reverie. “But there’s more than that, too.” 

You raise an eyebrow, prompting him to go on. 

“There’s knowing you do it for me.” 

He grins, before strutting to the bathroom. You watch his ass as he goes. Plump, you think. When he returns, he’s cleaned up and still grinning. Mulling on what he’s said—”for me”—an image of all eight of you on the living room floor arises. What are the boundaries between one person and another with this set up? What are the lines? What is owed? Your head spins, and you settle into the pillow. You’re still humming in the sensation of your dwindling pleasure, receding far away from your orgasm, and you sigh. 

“If the only way people are going to punish one another around here is by giving them blue balls, I’m going to get tired reeeeal quick,” you murmur to yourself.

“Is that so?” Jimin says from behind you as he collects your clothes. “If that’s the case, we better start coming up with new forms of punishment.” 

“Yes, maybe you should,” you say, mock-grouchily. 

“I’ll start thinking up new and innovative ways. Maybe I’ll consult Jin—he seems creative when it comes to this stuff—especially if you’re going to be so quick to forget what you promised him.” He helps you into your clothes again, but remains naked himself. 

“But—” 

“No buts.” He seals your silence with a kiss. “Just do what you’re told.” The statement stings through you like a bolt of electricity. As much as you hate to admit it, you love when he tells you what to do. Even if you love fighting against it just as much. “You know why you should do what you’re told?” He continues, as he kisses down your throat.

“Why?” 

“Because then I can reward you. I can make you come again and again until you’re crying to stop, or hold you at the edge long enough that when you’re finally ready to tip over, it’s the best fucking orgasm in your whole life.” 

You can’t help but giggle. “Are you saying you’re the best fuck of my life?” 

“No. Not yet. But I can be.” He pulls away from you enough to see the shit-eating grin on your face. 

“I think some of your friends might fight you for that position.” 

“Maybe they should.” 

“Maybe they should what?” a voice comes from the door. 

“Hoseok—” 

Hoseok stands in the doorway, a confused look on his face. You imagine what he must be seeing, a naked Jimin in bed, and you, now entirely naked, too, now that Jimin stripped you of your panties, tangled up in each other. 

“What’s going on here?” Hoseok asks. 

“Do you really want to know?” Jimin asks.

“Um. Not really.” Then his gaze focuses on you. He lingers on your face, reading you, trying to figure you out. But then he catches himself. “Uh, maybe I should come back later.” 

“No!” you say, perhaps a little too eagerly, sitting up. “What is it?” 

“I just was looking for you,” Hoseok says, a little shyly. “I was hoping to steal you away.”  

“Let me get dressed.” 

You stand up, and pull your clothes back on, noting how Hoseok’s gaze flickers to you just in time to see you pull on your leggings without any panties on underneath.  

Jimin sits up quickly, pulling a pillow over his crotch for the sake of Hoseok’s modesty. “Just so you know—if you’re going to go together—I already said that if someone was going to wear panties that someone wasn’t going to be able to come.” He turns to you. “So don’t you go running off to lover boy, thinking you can get your rocks off.” Jimin turns his attention back to Hobi. “This one is very much not allowed to come. At least for the rest of the day.” 

Hoseok coughs. 

“Oh, I, uh, I wasn’t, I wasn’t presuming.” 

“Yes you were, asshole,” Jimin laughs. “We’re all presuming.” 

Hoseok flushes red all the way to the tips of his ears at the implication, but you find it charming. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Hoseok says.

You glance at Jimin, who leans back with his hands laced behind his head. He looks like the perfect image of relaxation and… is that pride? There’s a soft smile curving at the corner of his lip, a kind of jesting smirk. 

“Go on,” Jimin says. “I’m already taken care of.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Asshole.” 

But you stand and make your way to Hoseok nonetheless. 

“You have time?” he asks.

“I have all the time in the world.” 

← || series m.list || →

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[sykam0re]

Analysing the new Splatoon 3 Wave 2 DLC - Side Order

I am about 90% sure this is supposed to be Agent 8!

As such, what I talk about next will be based entirely around this assumption - if this is wrong, then this analysis is void, but it's just for fun anyway so hskshj

I personally believe this wave of the DLC will be tackling the loose ends in regards to Octo Expansion, and more specifically: 8's amnesia prior to starting it. Having no memory of who they are or where they came from, they fight their way through the metro, defeating Tartar along the way and reaching their freedom on the Surface.

But then...

Who are they still?

Besides the memcakes, this issue is never quite resolved. As such- I believe the DLC will focus on that! With Agent 8 rediscovering who they used to be, and who they are now. Figuring out their identity and sense of self so they can finally know who they are. And based on what we saw in the trailer, I have several ways to back up this idea.

First up: the hub. A coral-ridden, colour-bleached version of our beloved Inkopolis Square. There is a strong coral themeing throughout the entire DLC trailer, and I think the reason why might be relevant to 8.

Coral bleaches when exposed to stressors in its environment, such as light, temperature and nutrients. So perhaps this is a metaphor for all the stressors on Agent 8's psyche. Their environment has changed dramatically, from Underground to the surface world of Inkopolis, so it wouldn't even surprise me if such changes still left them quite out of it.

It could also be a metaphor for how Inkopolis Square still isn't home for them. Considering the very intentional hotel-esque interior of the tower, a hotel being a place travellers go to stay in, this could very well encourage the idea that this still isn't home for 8. Just a glorified trip, regardless of whether or not they even can go 'home'. If they even remember home. The fanciness of it could also be a nod to how out of place they feel, as though they were in a place far out of their league. Like a common man in a palace, it feels...out of place.

Then? You have this image of multiple octolings. Multiple '8s', that perhaps could imply that they are still struggling to find their identity in a sea of so many like them. So many soldiers like them, so many test subjects like them...

They were always one of thousands, nothing more than a number in a crowd, so they never had any individuality. They never felt they were unique. So why is them who got to find their freedom? Why were they special?

And now we make it to the key in all this:

Pearl and Marina.

Pearl and Marina were a key component in helping 8 escape the Deepsea Metro. So if anyone would be here for them in such a struggle: it's them. The idea of it being a recollection of 8's memories could also explain Marina's glitched out appearance here.

It's just a memory. Were her tentacles blue, or green? Was this her outfit? Or was it something else? Maybe 8 even has some lasting memory issues after everything...hence how even newer memories seem to escape them.

Pearl seems to meet them in the blanked out square, so they're likely a key part in all of this. Just a hunch.

Overall though, I'm really really excited!! This DLC looks like it's shaping up to be something amazing, and I hope my silly ramblings at least interest some of you <:)

Thank you for reading! ♡

[connorsblog]

you're gone, but im still here. | c.g

genre : angst

summary : after carls death, you feel lost.

warning : hallucinations & semi-graphic gore description

do not continue reading if you have not seen 8x09 !! spoilers ahead

i sat infront of carls grave, the mere dirt pile was all rick and michonne could do while alexandria was burning down to the ground.

a pang went to my heart as i ran my fingers over the ashed dirt. it was a mix of grey and brown now, just reminding me all over again how my home burnt down.

"i shouldve been able to save you," my voice cracks as i attempt to talk to carl. it doesnt work very well.

i try to talk again, but all that comes out is a cracked "sorry." it wasnt enough and i knew it.

i tried to focus on the background sounds, but the soft chirps of the cicadas didn't suffice for carls voice.

i tried to imagine him there, sitting next to me in silence and holding my head on his shoulder.

i guess i imagined too far, as when i turned around he was there. in 3d.

"carl?" my voice came out soft and broken.

"you don't have to be sad," he got straight to his point. almost like he was about to disappear any moment.

"i died to save someone. he's going to be good for the community," he continued, "his name is siddiq."

i guess i forgot about him, since he hadnt been here very long. i had seen him maybe once, maybe twice?

"it's not your fault i died," not even allowing me to talk before starting up again, "it's not your fault."

he kept saying that but some part of me, buried deep inside of me, thought otherwise.

"it is my fault," came out without my consent. i didnt want to speak, i wanted to relish in his voice and presence until i couldnt see his face anymore.

he gripped my wrist. some part of me wanted to rip away and continue to believe he was dead. but he was right there, in front of my face.

i began to talk again, but as quick as he came he left. nothing was there besides the dirt mound.

i heard ricks gravely voice from somewhere behind me. i ignored it, hoping, somehow that carl would come back.

forty-six beats of silence later, i felt a hand on my shoulder. bristly cold.

shortly after, i realized it was carl again.

i didn't speak, not that he'd let me, and waited for him to say something.

"siddiq is good people, you know," he lifts his head a bit, finally allowing me to see his gaping gunshot wound in his head. but it wasnt bleeding, just a void of flesh that was on the side of his head.

i resisted the urge to scream, that all-too-familiar pang in my heart back. plus, if i did scream.. i'd look crazy. nobody was there, right?

"you'll be okay without me," he continues. i didnt know why he continued to talk, i hadnt said anything for the past few minutes.

"are you sure?" i finally spoke up. my throat hurt from the words, they felt like lava bubbling up and threatening to blow any second.

"i'm sure," he whispered before his eye closed and he disappeared for the last time.

"i dont want to live without you. but i will anyway," i sigh out as i brush my fingers over his grave for the last time for a while. i cant mourn him for too long.

[dailyreverie]

Hand in hand

A/N: Requested by my lovely friend @mariesackler. I'm so so happy to give you a Bucky blurb, it's like the official Buck Barnes fan club inniciation lol. I really hope you - and everyone, really - like it, since holding Bucky's hands is something that can be so personal.

Fall prompts 🍂 22. Hand Holding

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 670

CW: tiniest bit of angst regarding Bucky's past

As soon as he’s out of the car, Bucky’s eyes scan the place as they tend to do by default. He can’t help it, it is something engraved too deep in his head to wipe it out completely, that forgotten part of his past coming up to haunt him every now and then. The laughter and happy talk is a distant sound now, Sam, Sarah, and her kids  - who demanded to have a real New York autumn - are already way ahead of you and starting to look around for the best spot to set down for the picnic they planned, but for Bucky, everything sounds far away inside his head and seems to be painted black and white, all as he keeps surveilling every inch square with his scanning stare.

“It’s cold today, isn’t it?” When Bucky hears your voice he can feel his head being pulled out of a void, as if his head had zoomed out of whatever laps it was doing. Your voice sucks him back to real life while your hand finds the way to hold his gloved one as you reach his side, your fingers cold as the weather itself; Bucky squeezes your hand when he’s back to you, after a few blinks and a deep breath, and you take that as an invitation to link your opposite hand around his arm to protect yourself against the cold, rubbing it up and down to keep him there, with you.

“Yeah, it is.” His reply is barely a whisper, but you take it and smile anyway. With your hand in his, secured by his fingers caressing between yours, he lets himself relax and take in the beauty of the park you were at.

Due to his surveillance routine, Bucky had yet to notice how you were pressed close to him, trying to avoid the cold air that chilled you to the bone; he hadn’t seen either the grass that had somehow managed to survive the fall so far but that had been covered with fallen leaves, or the sun did little to warm you but it could still be felt on your skin in an attempt to distract you from the cold air that kept hitting against you.

“You okay?” With soothing motions, your arm keeps his soothing up and down movements. Bucky nods and turns to you, finally smiling when he sees you looking up at him, the concern leaving your face when he looks into your eyes. It isn’t until then that Bucky finally feels himself being out of his own head. 

“‘M good.” He nods. Bucky’s hold on your hand tightens; your hand, right at that moment, is what reminds him that there is nothing to be afraid of anymore.

When another intense rush of wind passes around you it is his instinct, too, that makes him smile when he feels your hold on his hand tighten and you curl against his side. You mutter a low “Holy shit,” when the cold smacks you in the face, and even though Bucky is cold too, he forgets about it when he sees you using him for protection.

“You good there, doll?” He has to confirm, squeezing your hand as he does. The cold had made you tug him impossibly closer to you, your hands holding tightly to his arm as you walked together through crunchy orange leaves.

You laugh at yourself for losing the fight against the cold, your source of heat chuckling too by your side. “I didn’t know it was going to be so damn cold today.”

Bucky chuckles, lifting your joined hands to his lips to kiss your ice-cold knuckles. “I got you,” he whispers against it. That’s all he has time to say, since you reach the rest and sit around the food that was already set on the blanket, still, his hand stays around yours; since you keep protecting him from his dark thoughts, the least he can do is protect you from the cold.

🍂🦾🍂🦾🍂🦾🍂🦾🍂🦾🍂🦾🍂🦾🍂🦾

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it.

[thefrogdalorian]

Hello! 

You may (or may not... I don't like to presume) have noticed my little break from posting. I just wanted to share something in case anyone was worried about me and assure you there is no need to be :) 

There isn't really one reason for why I've been on hiatus, but I guess a collection of things. 

I was really poorly with covid but thankfully I'm feeling a lot better now! But being so sick and stuck in I guess made me reevaluate certain things. 

Since recovering I got to see a lot of people I really adore with my whole heart, as well as being lucky enough to experience so many things I love with them.

And it made me realise what truly makes me happy in life. I suppose it really put things into perspective for me. I'm thinking more and more that tumblr (and being online generally) is something which unfortunately does not spark joy any longer. 

To be honest, (as I'm sure many people who were given far too much unsupervised access to the internet at a young age also do), I have a complicated relationship with social media. It doesn't make me feel good most of the time. I don't know how to handle some of the things I read and some of the things people have said to me. And just like I do irl, if the vibes feel off, I usually retreat into my shell to regroup. 

While I have made so many friends over the years of being chronically online and spoken to plenty of great people, I can feel myself getting drained again. And I really haven't missed it during the time I've been away.

I've filled my time with a lot of reading (I read Pride and Prejudice THREE times... doing amazingly), some writing and lots of long walks in nature. It's been really good for me!

As a result, right now, I just don't feel like continuing to post on this blog.

This decision wasn't caused by anyone or anything in particular. But when I've made my mind up about something, it's pretty impossible to change it. I've been mulling it over for a few days and my heart is telling me to go.

Anyway, I'm going to continue working on my WIPs and most likely continue posting them to AO3. It's by far the least social media-ish platform out there, and I really like posting on it. 

I need to take a step back to remember why I started writing, which was really as a way to get emotions out and to scream into the void a little. I don't enjoy sharing my work on tumblr, I kind of felt like I had to rather than genuinely wanting to. 

Truthfully, I just want to create and consume others' work in peace. I don't want to feel like I need to market my writing or whatever or compare myself to others. As much as I try not to, I think it's only human nature. 

So, I guess I'm really making this post to say I'll be going on a hiatus from tumblr. But I don't intend to stop writing or posting to AO3 and I hope to see you over there! 

I have no idea how long I'll be away for. Who knows... when winter comes around and my seasonal depression returns, or perhaps there is a major Mando update, maybe I'll return! 

For now, all there's left to say is how much of a pleasure it was posting about Mando and talking with you lot all these months. 

If anyone (mutual or otherwise) would like to keep in touch, feel free to message me for my discord! I'd be happy to continue chatting to you on there.

For me, in the headspace I'm currently in, one on one conversation is far less intimidating than being perceived by lots of people lol. 

I'll likely drop in at some point soon-ish and check for any of those messages, but until then, it's not a goodbye, but a see you later! 

Please care of yourselves and be kind to others :) 

Love,

Spud 🐸🩷

[sanicsmut]

Words of the Fallen

Technically Darien Gautier x Vestige!Reader, but all I can say is play Summerset's main quest in ESO before reading this.

part 2

Warnings : Use of Y/N once. Angst because it is. Spoilers for the end of Summerset. Language. The letter is taken directly from the game, which is why it’s written way better than what I’ve actually written.

Words: 1000 (I can't believe I got such a perfect count)

Robin’s comment: Cried making this, bon appétit. More seriously, this chapter (the game's DLC I mean) made me hate Meridia. She was one of my favorite daedric princes, but now it's over. All hail Azura. Anyway this is basically me telling Meridia what she deserves to hear. There's also a hint of a part two at the end ;). I'll try to write it, but I can't guarantee anything.

"Never trust a Daedric Prince. If there's anything I learned from all this, that's it in a nutshell. I used to think I had a purpose, a part to play in the grand scheme of things. I suppose I did, sort of, but the way things turned out, it wasn't at all the way I imagined. Meridia said I was her vessel. I guess my fate was sealed from the moment she brought me into existence.

Now, here I am, back in the Colored Rooms. I thought that when I gave my energy to restore the sword—and I did that for my friend, not for Meridia—I thought that was the end of me. I'm back, though, but this time is different. My light, it's fading. I can feel the darkness getting closer, pressing in. I expect that once the light goes out, that will be the end.

I need to tell you something about Meridia. She's a deceiver. She promised that if I served her faithfully, I'd earn my freedom. She never told me that freedom was just another word for the void. Don't trust her. Don't trust any of the Daedric Princes. Not ever.

I've found peace though. Meridia gave me a chance to see the world, and those I care about, one last time. To save those I loved. I'm grateful for that, at least.

I wish I had a chance to say goodbye to everyone. To Skordo. To Gabrielle. Gods, I'll miss them. But most of all, (Y/N). I don't know if she will understand how much she truly meant to me. Perhaps we'll see each other again, in another place, another time. I probably won't be the version of myself that's writing these words, though. That me will be gone. I can live with that.

I only wish I could have spent more time with everybody. Had a few more adventures. Ordered those drinks like we always talked about.

I hope my friends find peace, happiness, and love. They deserve what I could never have. If anyone ever finds this book, know that I will never forget those I named herein. And, if you find them, and I pray that you do, tell them this.

Protect the ones you love. Hold them close. Cherish their every moment. Make them laugh, and laugh with them. Smile together and never, ever, forget that the moments you have are so very precious.

Oh, and tell them not to forget me, either. I mean, I am a legend, as far as I know.

The polite, handsome, and humble knight,

Darien Gautier”

You let the book fall back on the bench where you found it.

No… No…

You were breathing heavily. And a few minutes later, surrounded by those trees, you let out your anguish.

Dawnbreaker gripped tight in your hand, you screamed.

“Take it back! Take your goddamn sword back!”

“It seems my vessel isn’t the only one who ended up having feelings when he shouldn’t.”

A bright light. There it was, this patronizing voice. This voice you had respected, after giving you back your soul and helping you in Coldharbour. This voice you grew to hate.

“You bitch, he was my friend!”

“Where is your respect, Vestige?”

Vestige. You hadn't been called that since that time you helped Abnur Tharn in Elsweyr. Only the companions called you that. The companions and Meridia. But even the Daedric Prince hasn’t called you that during this whole mission. It was like you were back in Coldharbour all over again. Back fighting for what you thought was right, back, fighting against and with forces you couldn’t comprehend.

“My respect for you died when Darien got condemned. By your fault.”

“He was my vessel, an empty shell, a weapon to do my bidding. He served his purpose.”

“He was my friend!” You yelled again.

“And a traitor.”

“How the f-”

“He sacrificed he life for you. He purified my sword, not to serve me, but to help you.”

“Oh, so this is it? You’re throwing a tantrum because your tool wasn’t devoted to you only?”

“Careful with your words, Vestige.”

“You owe me! I’m the one who fought Molag Bal, I’m the one who assembled all those allies to stop the coalition! I’m the one who just stopped Nocturnal! And you owe him too! He may have purified Dawnbreaker for me, but everything else he did was for you, to serve you, because he was your champion! Because he truly thought he could trust you!”

“And you owe me for your soul. And he owes me for the purpose I gave him.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to take my soul if I hadn’t fought in Coldharbour! It’s all thanks to me! And his purpose? He could’ve been a hero without disappearing for your fucking sake! Hell, he just wanted to help his friends!”

“Friends he shouldn’t have had in the first place.”

“I swear, I defeated Molag Bal and Nocturnal, I can defeat you too. Take back your fucking sword and give me back my friend.”

You could feel Meridia’s rising anger, the air feeling tense around you despite the Daedric prince not being here physically.

“You want your ‘friend’ back?” The prince of light asked, her voice filling you with a bad feeling.

“Yes!” You answered. “Free him from your realm!”

You swore you almost heard Meridia growling, even if that sounded out of character. But that being was strict and cold, full of authority, like a severe and cruel mother. But nothing about her was motherly. She might have been less ‘evil’ than other princes, but she still served her own interests, mortals were just tools for her, or obstacles she had to get rid of. And you were sure that she was now in the second category.

“You will have to free him yourself.” Meridia declared. “That is, if you can get out of my realm.”

Her voice was tainted in cruelty, and a blinding light burnt your eyes before everything went black.

[memberment]

GOOD MORNING EVERYONE

So the Trinitarians brain worm is back and Morning Glory is now longer and biting the dust as far as my focus goes.

But like, I genuinely want to talk to anyone who's invested in what's to come as far as part two goes. SO PLEASE. I IMPLORE THE FOUR OF YOU WHO PERPETUALLY TAKE NOTICE OF MY SCREAMS INTO THE VOID.

We're all aware that Trin is a time loop fic. That is confirmed.

BUT THE PROBLEM IS HOW I'M GOING ABOUT DOING THAT. AND I NEED INPUT FROM PEOPLE THAT ARE NOT ME AS FAR AS PLEASES AND SPARKLES GO, YES?

Because like sure I'm writing it and like fuck everything else, let me tell my story. But it's the how of it all like if I'm gonna throw another 200 give or take hours into this I would at least like one person to be having a wonderful time drinking and driving (I have since remembered this is not a common phrase, I do not mean this in a literal sense, it's an expression) with me right?

Part two is going to be 50 chapters, give or take. (Part one is about 37 for reference.)

So the plan for part 2 rn is (ROGUHLY):

(1-10) is the second timeline. There are a lot of importants and I cannot just glaze over it all more than that. But we're also working in a bit of a shorter time period than the original events of the story and introductions do not need to happen again, right?

(11-40)ish would be me running through the next timelines in a set up structure -> what changes -> the results of said changes and then inevitably what sends our looper backwards. It wouldn't be running through all the timelines but the more notable ones in kind of a four chapter structure, I am not fully sold on four, but rough estimate yk.

And then 41-50 would be the finale of part two. It's literally the last timeline in its glory and then the epilogue which kicks off part three.

COULD AT LEAST ONE OF Y'ALL SIT THROUGH THAT OR DO YOU GUYS HAVE ANY NOTES AT ALL BECAUSE LIKE

I personally kinda like it but if not a soul is reading this I am throwing myself on the curb with the rest of the garbage LMFAOOO.

I NEED THOUGHTS. OPINIONS. COMMENTS. CONCERNS. ANYTHING.

Anyways, I'm going to work. I have off tomorrow and I broke the ff investment seal for today so insanity and updates will be here tonight and homework will be tomorrow.

HOPE EVERYONE HAS A GOOD DAY <3

(9:30) I am literally falling asleep as I lazily write this angel based on Danse Macabre. Expect all of maybe one more update tonight if the tacos I am abt to receive don't wake me up LMFAO.

Also, I am almost saddened by not having something to post tm. Anyone want an early chapter of something that isn't Genesis/Desolation bc they're both on Monday?????? (I am feeling like a menace rn)

(10:19) tacos and the absolute yap session I just had did wake me up a bit. MAAAYBE might write some more. Idk I slept like three hours last night and went to work I'm kinda dead. But we're at 98.2k!!!!!!🥳

(11:06) okay we made it to 99.6k everything besides the flashback for 31 is done. I'm about to relax and watch something and figure out mechanics of some of this because god this series is A BEAST. Like, I still have six planned chapters left.

Pure insanity. I love it here. I hate it here.

Holy shit wait I just came to the realization that I started this fic exactly one month ago. I have belted out 99.6k for THIS FIC ALONE. (Moreso if we're including future shit that hasn't happened yet)

IN ONE MONTH.

THAT IS FUCKING CRAZY WHAT HTE FUCK LMFAOOOO

I may or may not be cooking we’ll find out in 6-26 business hours

(5:28) So I just had a very interesting past few business hours. I read a fic I've been waiting ever so patiently to finish. That's cool, right. I go for a walk at 4 in the morning because I'm insane. Fantastic. I get home at five and I'm like ohhhh well what do I do now it's not sleep time yet. Oh write I'm supposed to be drawing.

Nope I reread the epilogue of morning glory and realized Tweek's first address is for my morning glory and Craig's last sign off is your morning glory and now I'm ready to throw myself on the curb with the garbage as I sob. Someone call a trusted adult for me thanks.

[ellaa-writes]

Star Crossed Lovers

author notes: I am so beyond happy for this series. I'm such a huge fan of Elliot Knight and don't understand the blatant hate and disrespect he gets. He's such a lover boy and I hope I can portray it right. Anyways, this is in The Beast Within world. So happy to finally be expanding it. Simon's series here. Part 1 obviously. Enjoy!

cw: a/b/o dynamics. mature themes. violence, death and misogyny ideas ahead. each chapter will have its own warnings. this one is very tame as most of them will be for Kyle's series. Not proof read or edited.

The bond between the sun and the moon was profound, birthing generations of celestial descendants. The brilliance of the sun overshadowed the moon's gentle glow, yet their offspring celebrated each radiant dawn. However, as the sun's light waned, fear of the moon's darkness gripped their progeny. Nights became a time of retreat, as the moon's illumination sparked unease.

Despite the moon's efforts to illuminate the night, its light was met with disdain. Over time, bitterness consumed the moon, turning its love to envy. In a fit of jealousy, the moon cursed its children with lust and greed. Heartbroken, the sun countered with blessings of fertility and love upon their offspring.

The discord between the sun and the moon poisoned the world, bringing forth plagues and sorrow. Mothers wept for stillborn children, while sickness ravaged the fertile Omega population and drove strong Alphas to madness. Chaos reigned as violence spread, leaving scars upon the earth and its inhabitants, a testament to the anguish of celestial lovers.

Being born into a breeding farm, you never knew anything other than the inside of this facility. These boring white walls were home, sadly but truthfully. Your whole existence not of your choice, to keep the population flowing and the Alpha's happy.

You never knew love, being ripped from your mother soon as you were born, not even a suckle at her teet. Caged like an animal, tested and expirmented on. Trained to be submissive, receiving. On how to please an Alpha and bare his seed. It was a miserable life indeed. You dreamt of the unknown beyond these walls, the vast world surrounding you. Of somehow growing wings and taking flight like a bird at night. Soaring across the land and away from the confinement within these walls.

That's how you ended up here, tied down with a cage over your head. It was punishment, for being a dreamer, and for also biting the arm of an Alpha that touched you a little too long. It was suppose to be humiliating and you guess it was. Unable to move, put into the optimum breeding postion. To remind you of your worth, of your only purpose. To breed.

Your lucky you are still in training, unproven to be the perfect specimen. You had anger problems, your file stated. Violet outbursts, emotions too high. It's why they pump you fully of hormones, hoping that it'll tone you down. Your arms went numb hours ago, your back strained in the uncomfortable postion. The dull ache of your muscles etching themselves in. This isn't your first time here and probably won't be your last. It was so quiet you'd believe to be alone but the occasional murmur of voices letting you know they are always watching.

You could hear the low whispers, how they talk with such vemon. All you need to a rough fuck from a top Alpha, someone to put you in your place. Others say that maybe this life wasn't meant for you, to put you down quick and without a fuss.

Settling in for the night, you knew you'd be here for a while. Closing your eyes and clearing your mind. Getting lost in your imagination, slipping into the void of your own reality. The first sounds of shouting and gunfire so far away that you don't hear. Either that or you so deep into your mind that you can't hear the screaming.

Red light illuminates around you, casting the small room into a dark hue. The sound of alarms startles you to the surface. The sound of pounding feet marching into battle. The cries and whimpers of the wounded. This can't be real, you must still be dreaming. This must be what a nightmare is, something you never experienced. Bullet fire opens up close near you, the sound of the sharp metal bouncing off the steel walls, echoing around you.

All you can do is lay in this unnatural postion, like a juicy mango ripe for the picking. You can hear the voices, unknown to you. Shouting out commands and orders, responses and copy that's. The door to your room shaking under the thunderous pounding.

The metal screaming has whoever was on the other side tried to penetrate. Finally weakening, the door flung from its hinges, now laying off to the side. The dark room filled the shouting voices and beams of light, words you couldn't understand.

It must have been a hell of a sight. A fresh untouched Omega, beant over and bound, begging to be fucked. If they weren't trained for this, and pumped full of suppressants, one of them would have went in for the bite. Lowering his weapon Kyle lead the charge. Barking out commands as he slung the gun across his back. Unsheathing the knife on his thigh, cooing at the poor whimpering thing in front of him.

He never understood it, the need for dominance. Might be genetic after all, born a Beta male. He slipped his knife under the binds, watching as it sliced through them with ease. Letting her know he's not here to harm her, none of them are. Easing his hand on her lower back, slicing through the rest of the binds. Pulling her into a kneeling postion with himself to the side of her.

"It's all going to be alright love." hoping his words eased her. One of his men handing him a fleece blanket, he wrapped it around the shaking thing. "Do ya think ya can stand?" he asked. Finally turned her around to get a proper look at her, she still had the bag over her head. The damn thing was padlocked on, he called out to one of his men. "Anyone know how to pick a lock?" a small lanky Beta approached. Hands up in a nuturel positions, showing that he was no harm to the frightened Omega.

"Get dis thing off of her. Make it quick" he held you in place has the other male Beta began working of the lock. You flinched with every movement, whimpering out in fear. Trying to understand what was happening, was this still apart of the nightmare? The lock clicked and sprang open. The smaller Beta wretching it off you as Kyle ripped the hood from your head.

Sucking in a deep breath of air, feeling your lungs fill and burn. Your senses flooded with the smell of the men around you. All Betas to your surprise.

"Easy, easy their." Kyle tried pulling you to your feet. But after hours of being bound tight, your muscles relented and cried out in pain. Causing you to cling to him and hiss, you won't be able to use your limbs for a while. Kyle didn't hesitate lifting you up by your knees, bracing his other arm across your back. Carrying you past the other man and out the door. You were thankful for the blanket, the warmth helping to keep you calm.

"Close ya eyes." it was a command and you didn't dare disobey. Snapping them shut and burying your face into his chest. "It's all gonna be alright." you hope he was telling the truth, you had no other choice but to believe his words. He carried you past the destruction and towards the safety of outside. Trucks lined the block, stations and tents set up along the roads. Kyle looked out and saw his Captain carrying two young Omega girls, no older the six.

He was is disbelief and disgust, these poor Omega girls, locked up like cattle. This was only the third raid, after being tipped off of the inhumane practices. The shocking bombshell articles plastered all over the papers and morning new stations. The only good thing coming out of this mess was the cure.

He carried you to one of the medic tents, setting you on an empty bed. Female and male medics shuffling around trying to treat all they could. Two female Beta medics came to your aid, immediately checking you vitals. Kyle stepped off to the side, to give them space and to return to the mission. You reacted out of panic and fear, lunging forward and gripping onto his arm. Your nails digging in deep, drawing blood. "Please!" you croaked out. Eyes wide and pleading, filling with worry and tears.

He didn't know what to do, looking at the medics for support. The lead medic pushing him onto the bed next to you, "Keep her calm" she ordered out as she flashed a light in your eyes. Your breathing eased and your grip loosened.

He didn't leave your side the whole time, staying with you as the medication they gave you started to take affect. Consuming your body with sleep, closing your eyes one last time that night.

He stared at himself in the mirror, his nostrils flaring with each breath. He's been doing this for so long, has been all over the world and seen the many cruel ways of his kind. But this, this hit him hard.

His mind kept wandering back to you, but it's just all part of the job right. Right?

"Fuck" he spat out, pushing off of the vanity as he finally left the bathroom. Making his way down the hall to the kitchen, it was too early in the morning. Most still sleeping and the few awake else wear. He opened the fridge, his stomach doing flips making the idea of food unmanageable. He needed some air, opting for a run outside instead.

Allowing the crisp morning air hit his face, the burn in his lungs and the ache in the legs. He loved the feeling of freedom. Opening field, just loving life. Nothing but a good run to clear his plauged mind. Turning back around to head towards the compound, he noticed a familiar shape resting up against a tree. Captain Price.

"What's up?" he asked out of breath, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face. "I know it's your day off but theres a problem." Kyle knew the look in his Captains eyes. He wouldn't be asking if he didn't think Kyle could handle it. "Go on." he instructed. "It's about the Omega you brought out last night. She's been unconsolable, unresponsive. She in a lot of stress, keeps asking for the Beta that rescued her." Kyle's heart dropped, he didn't bother to finish listening to what Price had to say. Walking off towards the direction of the parking lot, he'll deal with his Captain later.

All he could focus on was getting to you.

[yours-the-author]

Finally, after all these years, the first chapter of Liminal Love has been posted! It's available both on AO3 and fanfiction.net, so you can read it on your preferred site easily. I really hope you enjoy it, I'm very proud of what I've written so far, and I hope the chapters I still have to finish will be just as good!

Anyway, you're all here for something else, too, right? The "cover art" for chapter 1! I'll post it under "Keep Reading", since future art pieces might have spoilers for the context of the chapters. Or maybe you'd prefer to see the picture right away so you know what to expect? Let me know if you have a preference.

Anyway, enough talk; here's the art!

Full colors, baby! We're gonna try to avoid any blank spaces and colorless voids with these art pieces, so I hope you like it! As you know, I'm not much of an artist, but I had a lot of fun with making "cover art" for some of the chapters of my HetaOni fic, so I wanted to try it again here! Have a nice day!

[insolentgod]

slap in your face and mine

hi lovers, night out from a depressed girl but who has a big girl self-concept (me rs). I just wanted to write what came to mind and I wrote it anyway. I hope this reaches anyone who needs it.

probably gonna get my period, felt a damn anguish for hours tonight. now in the wee hours I pulled some cards (lenormand deck) about some people and they weren't so good (well, there are reasons). opened my TikTok and my FYP showed a sad trend and I broke down, cried and cried. cried for fear of losing friendships, cried for feeling alone (even though I'm not???), cried for accumulated fears and the most terrible cried for love (but not for a bad love). I cried so much and felt an immeasurable pain, bet it's those damn hormones. it's been a while since I cried so I allowed myself, I was feeling so weak and powerless, like I deserved to suffer

¿hi???????? do I deserve to suffer??????????? NEVER, never again.

just remember i kept creating more depreciative scenarios in my head and out of nowhere in a burst of hope (because despite everything my self-concept is still good) and finally i became aware of who i am. i'm freaking god of my reality, i control everything down to the smallest things, i'm not a person who deserves to suffer even the slightest bit. obviously not. i'm not going through that.

and neither are you, because surely you've been in the same state as i was before feeling sad, feeling hopeless, feeling like you have no power to change things, just have to feel and accept. NOOOOOOOO ok i said NO. you're not going to accept this, you're not going to accept life beating you down more.

what i do when i have these bouts of sadness (because i'm still melancholic) is affirm like crazy. i start affirming things that will reassure me and even mock my situation (this helps me). what i said at the time was something like:

"wait, am i suffering because of this? am i really here crying like a baby over a situation that i can step into the void and change? or that i can solve with affirmations, whatever. the point is, why am i suffering here? why am i losing control for what reason? if i'm ALWAYS in charge, if EVERYTHING IS A REFLECTION OF MY MIND. if i want something, i can simply have it???? how many PERFECT AND WONDERFUL things have i achieved so far, i can get everything i want and change whatever i want."

as i kept talking to myself, my good conscience returned and i started thinking "yeah, you're right, it doesn't make sense."of course after that, i said good things to myself, things to calm my inner child, because the reason i'm feeling so bad is because i triggered one of her traumas (a trauma i'll resolve in the future).

moments of hopelessness and despair are completely normal, my loves, please don't let it consume you. you have everything to change in your hands. freaking out and saying "omg what do i do? it's all lost." doesn't make sense, wake up, realize your freaking power, don't disgrace the god that you are.

if you really don't know how to get what you want, go back to basics, there are plenty of people here teaching and preaching their words, take the information and put it into practice. if despair comes, cry and let out what you feel, but make sure to REMEMBER who you are afterwards.

anyway my loves, that's it, felt like posting this here. I'm not going to review this, I'm going to smoke and go to sleep. So forgive me if there are mistakes. I don't want to read this text anymore

[atoriv-art]

asks

putting these above the readmore because otherwise i will be speaking into the void

fave. grouping these together to say: i do read fanfic on occasion but it's usually filtered through a friend of mine who reads far more than i do! ie, she reads stuff and sends me what she likes

however she did say that i could tell people to link me things so she can read through them. so feel free to link me whatever in the replies/asks/idk. no promises i will be the one reading it LMAO but we have very similar tastes in characters/pairings and also the types of fics we like 👍

i actually gravitate towards gen fics which are a dying breed lol but you can link whatever you want <3

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anyway. under the cut: misc asks, sasuneji 💕, also a tiny hyuga ramble

this is so late LMAO sorry, its all in my old blog @atoriv-moved ! haven't deleted any of it so if anything happened it's tumblr's fault. i miss kingdom hearts i need luxu to be in things again so i can go crazy :/

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thank you so much!!! 😭😭 it always makes me happy to hear the emotional weight of my work comes through! it's what i'm always trying to improve to make the little scenes in my head real :)

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thank you!!!! i never know what to say to these but they always make me smile 8)

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thank you so much!! honestly noses still give me trouble sometimes but as someone who is particular about trying to properly translate 3D shapes, especially of the face, in my rendering it's probably one of the most important landmarks :P and i think you can enhance a design sooo much with them, despite my struggles they're one of my favorite things to draw now!

i totally encourage you to start drawing again if you want to! but i'm biased of course hehe

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cute i never know how to answer these... maybe a little boring but i'm of the opinion sasuke is the clingier one in the rs :)

he's a very loving person but because of both his personality and collection of issues he struggles to fully articulate his thoughts in a manner that doesn't come off as rude or detached, but imo sasuke esp once he's out of his spiral would hate to have his love go unexpressed. so i think him having trouble with words and making up for it with flopping onto the people he loves like a large dog is sooooo cute, and i always think about how clingy he was as a baby.. he is made for latching onto people and wiggling them with a 😐 face

neji on the other hand is Weird About Intimacy since he's trained himself to be self-sufficient, and is hyperaware of how other people might perceive him due to him having to calibrate himself around his family. neji is very principled and especially when he's older won't let his anxieties keep him from doing something he believes in, but it gets a little more complicated when it comes to his personal relationships because for 90% of his life he had no hope of fostering those. so he ends up in a weird middle ground where he Does allow himself to express some of those feelings, but not fully, and often in a very self-conscious manner. his default answer to vulnerability is fluffing up like a cat because that's what's he's trained himself to do lol

so with these two in particular i think it'd combo into a lot of "flopping onto you like a weighed blanket because you're upset and i don't know what to say but i want to be here for you" situations, especially with sasuke doing it to neji because neji struggles with verbally articulating when he needs comfort like that. i think it works wonders for them because sometimes words get really messy when you have their combination of issues... it doesn't mean they can't talk through their problems of course, it just means that if something can be solved by the cat loaf maneuver it will be :)

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not reading too much into it at all, i love it! i like how much people talk about my kabuto hahaha i really want to draw him more often, i think he's a way more interesting character than he's given credit for (and this is coming from someone who really didn't like him at first :P), and his hairstyle change is one of the most obvious ways to explore that visually imo!

tysm for this, i really enjoyed reading it!

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i do! i wish more was done with her because i'm really fascinated by the implications of how she's presented, and how she could've shown that being the favorite child of someone like hiashi isn't necessarily a good thing! i always thought she seems like she's a little dissociated from life outside of the clan, which is really fun to work with (and definitely sucks for her because the clan is Not good lol)

i haven't gotten through the arduous task of watching all naruto filler (lmao) but one of my favorites is the one about hanabi and her relationship with hinata, especially the first half, episode 389 i think? i'm really obsessed with the way that episode shows what day-to-day life was like for the kids and the way the hyuga structure themselves, and how it creates distance between them. i'm pretty sure it implies hanabi (pre-plot) didn't know who neji is, for example? which i get isn't canon but i looove that thought. and on a less deep note hanabi is one of the few characters who gets a design i actually like in boruto! i think she looks soooooo cute

since i spend a lot of time thinking about them i actually am fond of all of the hyuga to some capacity, hiashi definitely in a "wow this guy sucks so much it's impressive" way but still lol i think his relationship with his brother and how it informs how he regards neji is very fascinating, or at least the directions it could have taken (if kishi cared at all.) are!

see my problem is that i wish naruto was about weird families and their issues (i am also obsessed with the suna family <3), but it is a shonen anime made for normal audiences

[kakarorin]

Defending "The Road to El Dorado" from a couple racist claims, or how I, being so cheeky, like to call it: Covering myself in sugar in order to attract some nasty little bugs🐞

For some reason, 2024 seems to be the year when I can't tolerate "The Road to El Dorado is packed with racism" discourse anymore. A couple days ago, I stumbled across a very colourful gifset which encapsulated perfectly all the objectively wrong arguments (save for half... one... one and a half... It depends) I've ever seen people give out to explain why they don't like the movie (@/neechees: If by some unlikely chance you're reading this, I wish we could have talked about it calmly. I'm a very open-minded person, unlike you seem to be). I've seen them SO many times that I think I hit my limit. Long story short, I got defensive, which I regret, shame on me, told the op they were wrong, as they are, op responded, and I got blocked before I could respond back. I honestly don't know why they blocked me after responding. I don't know if they sensed I know much more about the Aztec Conquest than they do, but well... Occam's razor.

After I calmed down, tried to reach to them because I genuinely wanted to talk about it, and failed, I decided I was going to break their post down as minutely as I could, even if just to get it off my shoulders and toss it into the void, and polished what I told one of the people who reblogged op's post saying they were right into this lengthy post. Purely because I love debating about movies I love. And boy, do I LOVE this movie.

Before starting, I'm letting you know that, as far as I know, I'm 100% white. And I'm also from Spain (Europe. Clarifying this for the Americans), which understandably gives me the advantage of having lived (and living) through the subtle remnants of the wretched Spanish Black Legend. Yet none of these two things stopped me from looking up historical papers, podcasts and documentaries (further than YouTube's video essays, I mean) so I could understand that this sort of... slander was indeed, part of that concept. I don't see how being of a particular race or ethnicity gives you the right to speak about recorded history as objective facts without doing your research and applying your critical thinking to it, either. Does op think that just because they're Native-American, as they say (just in case, can't believe anything you read on the internet these days), a person who has spent hours, days, months educating themselves about Hernán Cortés, poor Malinche and the Aztec Conquest from serious sources can't have more knowledge than them? Smh, op, smh. It does give you right over feelings, and obviously, your own experiences, though. Hope you still understand that factual knowledge is an entirely different thing.

That being said, at the end of the day, save for the very easy-to-check historical facts (which I will provide sources for if asked, although I believe you can very easily research it yourself), this is my opinion about why "The Road to El Dorado" is regarded as much more racist than it actually is. If you want to give me yours or respond to it, please, by all means, do it. Respectfully and with clear and valid reasons, of course. Otherwise, I'll have to ignore you. Understand that what you read below is the limit of my thinking and reading. Enjoy, or hate. Call me a racist. Send a WHITE meme my way. Up to you.

I'd link you to the post, but I don't feel like it. They blocked me, after all. You can search my blog for it. It's tagged as "neechees". And be sure to read their tags on the post as well, for context. Anyway, here go their "objective truths". Debunking time starts... now:

(EDIT: This is filled with edits. See how my opinion can change and I can clarify or rectify? Anyway, stating the obvious, but I believe Spanish colonization is bad. In any part of the world. I won't give you a single good aspect of it, except for that at least it was based on a different mindset than British colonization. Maybe there are fairly good aspects. After all, they say Romans gave us Spaniards roads and sewage systems. We'd have to take a look at an alternative reality where it didn't happen to make an objective claim. But, believe me, if it had been for me, I'd have pushed Cortés off the ship a good bunch of nautical miles before he reached what is now known as Veracruz, whatever good things he ended up doing. Bear that in mind.)

1. The cultures are mashed up in one city, that is true. But there is no explicit racist (implying prejudice, discrimination or antagonism, as I understand racism, or as racism is actually defined) motive behind it. I don't think it's done out of unthoughtfulness, either. I'm pretty sure it's just done to leave the place ambiguous, because (tell you more later), with Cortés involved and what went down with him historically, that place is much more meant to be Tenochtitlán than the legendary city of El Dorado. They didn't want to make that so explicit because this is a retelling, after all (tell you more later). I honestly don't see how anyone could think that the resulting city and culture are portrayed in a negative way. Sometimes, I'm not even sure these people were paying attention when watching the movie (if they ever did). In fact, if it weren't for the title of their post, I wouldn't even understand the point in this.

2. Oh boy, this is exactly what triggered me to say something instead of just putting it on my blog silently. This is how I know the op has ZERO knowledge about the historical event behind it, because they wouldn't say this is right if they did. There is no such thing as a (EDIT:) sufficiently collective "Spanish lie that Native-American (NA) people believed they were gods" (NEVER listen to a Spaniard who claims this. EDIT: Like López de Gómara. They're delulu), this has never had any kind of historical relevance (in the outcome and influence of history, I mean), and the NA people in the movie are not worshipping the white guys because they're white. The whole plot, arriving in a city and being mistaken for a god because your arrival coincided with an ancient premonition in such a precise way that it is fascinating, is exactly what happened to Cortés when he reached the capital of the Aztec Empire, Tenochtitlán. He was believed to be the reincarnation of Quetzalcóatl, and that's why he could enter the city peacefully and live in it for a short amount of time. The concept of the movie seems to be "What if this, instead of happening to a conquistador (in which is implicit the catholic element) who quickly said he was no god when he realised what was happening (because of the sin of idolatry), happened instead to two atheist looters who are ultimately good-hearted (NOT colonizers, because they didn't try to claim the land or control it) who weren't stopped by the fear to sin and took advantage of the situation?" That's it. The premonition happened to fall on a white man hundreds of years ago (who also came from the east, same place Quetzalcóatl left to and said he'd return from) and so does in the movie story because it mirrors real history, and, again, I fail to see the negative portrayal in all of this because it's certainly NOT because they're white. I think the op also took it salty that I said they had zero knowledge about "the very people they're trying to defend", which I still believe, but this is complex and I'll only explain this if asked. What I meant by that, on the surface, is that NA people also enslaved NA people. I seriously hope op doesn't think NA slavery is more acceptable if it comes from other NA people than white people. Who knows, at this point.

3. This is essentially right. It's the only thing I think is mostly right, actually. It's no problem for me, though. I love Chel, she's beautiful and aesthetically pleasing to me. But I can understand why it may put someone off. All good. However, I still wanna say that the Aila test is just a way of assessing indigenous women representation as positive and negative, and not the work in itself as problematic if it doesn't pass it. The Lord of the Rings doesn't pass the Bechdel test and I have never seen anyone calling it problematic because of that, nor do I need positive representation (I'm a woman. Sort of. It fluctuates) on it to enjoy it. Although I figure I'd feel the same if I were NA, I can't and won't speak for one. So I still give you that.

4.1. This is wrong in three ways. First, Tzekel-kan is not "demonized as evil". He is evil. He's not evil because he's NA, he is evil because he killed, he lied, and he abused his power. There are NA people in the movie who are kind and good (everyone but him, I believe), and then there's him. In every race and ethnicity, there are good, neutral and bad people. And people who are sometimes good, and sometimes bad. If all the NA people were painted in a morally white and good way, that special treatment would come off as positive discrimination to me. Why can't he be a sociopathic genocider AND indigenous at the same time without being considered as racist? Does that mean all indigenous people have to be/are morally white? If all the other NA characters were demonized, I'd understand it, but it's the opposite. Also, Tzekel-kan is loosely based off Moctezuma, the (redundant) emperor of an Empire who enslaved other NA people. And, surprise, just like Cortés, I don't think the guy was evil. I think this is probably another reason why they didn't want to make clear the specific culture. I could see the racism if they had tried to directly compare Tzekel-kan with Moctezuma, I would perfectly be able to see the claim that Moctezuma was a sociopathic genocider, and I'd recognise that as racist. But in this case, it's just loose inspiration. Not a parody.

4.2. There was NO genocide in the Spanish NA colonies. There was NO legal slavery, save for a few unfortunate loopholes (tell you more later). (EDIT: careful, I'm NOT defending his monumental fuck-ups or justifying him in any way, just so you know. In my opinion, he was a fair lot more bad than good, but not 100% bad. If you get me) Hernán Cortés did a lot of undeniably wrong things, but he did good things too. I don't think you can say he was a good person, no person who'd say that would be a friend of mine, but I don't think he was a 100% evil person. Just a person, sometimes good and sometimes bad. Still, when he was bad, he was bad. And what op said about that they didn't care enough about him to write his name properly, BOY how that ticked me off. People, for all you hold dear, you have to CARE to know about such important historical figures in order to understand the history behind them and the outcomes of their actions. Especially within such a sensitive topic. It's when stories like this are ignored or forgotten, that history tends to repeat itself. The fact that I care to spell Hernán Cortés well has not the respectful positive connotation they think, either. And despite what you may believe, we Spaniards do NOT think he did everything right and much less that he was a hero. I think some Mexicans think we all do, but I don't know why. Only the most idiotic "fachas" (ultraright people) do.

4.3. One, he was not enslaved (tell you more later). Two, well, since he tried to mass-murder the inhabitants of the city, I... I do reckon putting him away was a good ending. Jesus, he tried to purge the city of citizens HE deemed unworthy in the name of a divine power (=on a religious basis) with the clear intention to wipe them out. It's clearly stated more than once throughout the movie. If you didn't know, by objective definition, the name of that starts with 'G' and ends with 'ENOCIDE'. And when that failed, he actively tried to drive the colonizers to them. Only because of that, he was technically much more of a genocider than the historical Cortés ever was. Are his actions really justified just because he's indigenous? Doesn't he deserve a punishment just because of it? I see "slavery" (if it were. Since enslaving NA in Spanish colonies was illegal at the time, I'd say he was kidnapped, in the strict sense of the word. Bit funny to word it like that) as a punishment more than fitting for his crimes. I think you all should drill this into your head: ANY abusive leader involved in (I can't believe I'm going to say this, but socially unacceptable) murder deserves to be punished in some way independently of his race, ethnicity or religion. This is something I believe firmly, so you have very little room to debate with me on this one. Do try, if you want.

By the way, I LOVE Tzekel-kan to death. Just the way he is. A charismatic, fanatical, sociopathic fictional high priest who tried to cleanse his city in the name of his gods through murder and human sacrifice, a practice that the other NA inhabitants very obviously did NOT enjoy (well, that definitely rings a historical bell). If you hadn't noticed, or perhaps thought it was impossible, let me tell you this: you can actually love evil characters without justifying their actions. It's legal. 100%. Unlike slavery in NA Spanish colonies at the time.

5. I don't see exactly how spirituality is portrayed as evil. More specifically, I don't see how the movie's actual magic is considered Aztec spirituality. Not a fan nor a hater of Hazbin Hotel, but I've seen one of the demon characters around Twitter using literal voodoo in a very unthoughtfully wrong way. That's a big no-no, in my opinion. And I see a clear difference with this because there is nothing in the stone jaguar magic that single-handedly resembles what Aztec religion actually was. I'm not saying this can't be done in a wrong way with indigenous NA spirituality, nor that they didn't take elements from it (they did), I just think that with all the context behind the movie, here it's just magic that serves a plot function. Aesthetic Aztec/Maya patterns appear here and there, arguably because those are the "places" where it's geographically based (and because Tzekel-kan is loosely based off Moctezuma, who was the religious spiritual leader who received the Quetzalcóatl premonition), but at the end of the day, I don't think it's much more than the fantasy you typically find in a kids' movie. No specific religion was portrayed as evil, no specific gods were portrayed as evil, the magic in itself wasn't portrayed as evil. In the movie, it was black magic because Tzekel-kan, who was evil, used it for evil. Who says that a giant stone cat can ONLY serve evil purposes? I'd use it for good, personally. Maybe transportation. Maybe architecture. Decoration. Festivities. (CW: 26-year-old making a boomer joke) Maybe to instill cordial fear among my neighbours.

EDIT: I've been thinking about this these days and I realised that in the specific stone jaguar "spell", Tzekel-kan needs to toss his poor aide into the mix for it to "activate". That is much more evil than neutral, so maybe I can kind of see this point now. And human sacrifice was part of some of these religions, after all, so maybe it does point towards Aztec spirituality. Still, as it didn't come off as evil to me until I've THOROUGHLY thought about it, I feel like questioning things. Does the "spell" need a human body, or an animal body would have served? The "recipe" doesn't state anything. It's Tzekel-kan who pushes him in. Do ALL the "spells" need a body to "activate"? Maybe not. I feel like maybe I can give you a part of this argument. But still... Hmm. I don't know. We were stuck with an evil religious high priest, but that doesn't necessarily mean ONLY he could use magic. Nor that ALL the magic was evil. But yeah, alright. I can sort of see this now... a bit.

6. I can give you this... for the most part. Knowing it mirrors history, and that historically, it was white men who rid the NA people enslaved by the Aztec Empire (which I believe is what the people of El Dorado ended up portraying, somehow oppressed by Tzekel-kan's sacrifices) of the Aztec Empire (even if woefully just to take their place), I'm not sure it's so simple. I still don't fully see it as plain white saviour narrative with that background info. In any case, I think my mind can be changed about this with the right argumentation. Surely not by a person who has no knowledge about history. Sorry, op.

7.1. For my next trick, I'll blow your mind: Cortés was no big bad evil genocider. He wasn't a golden-hearted saint or saviour either. Frankly, I believe most people think he was similar to Christopher Columbus (of whom I don't know as much, but sounds pretty 100% evil to me with what I have) by default. I'm also very certain they watched the movie and took that version of him as a faithful representation, but in reality he was very different. He was short, he was slender, he was way more charismatic, way less solemn and serious, and he had the reputation of a womanizer. He committed atrocities, like torturing and murdering the last Huey Tlatoani for rumours (Jesus, the Cholula massacre), but he also treated most indigenous people with respect (when he wasn't pathologically obsessed with gold), he talked with Moctezuma as if he were his kin, he always tried to negotiate before grabbing his arms, he listened to and followed the advice of an indigenous woman (Malinche). And once he had done the deed, his reputation was sunk, he was stripped of most of his titles and compensation for what he had done (karma? Possibly), and he had practically no say in the new territories. He went there for the gold above all, and all the crimes he committed were in its name. But unlike Miguel and Tulio (this is the reason why they're not colonizers, only looters), he ALSO wanted to seize control of the land for the Spanish Empire. As an anti-colonialist Spaniard, I can't help boiling up in anger every time I see someone call Miguel and Tulio colonizers. They are NOT coloziners, just like we are NOT colonizers. Our country was, hundreds of years ago. The people who claimed that land as theirs and believed that gave them the right to exploit it for centuries were. And believe me, if we're still here and have descended from humble families for more than 5 centuries, none of our ancestors saw a single piece of gold.

7.2. This is part of a broader topic but Cortés acted in the name of the Spanish Empire, who, thanks to Queen Isabella the Catholic and the laws she passed, considered NA people as citizens of the Crown and therefore could not be enslaved (legally), not to mention genocided. Physically genocided, I mean, because the cultural genocide is undeniable. And still, while so many parts of so many different cultures disappeared, some things like the Maya and Nahua languages were kept. Even if little, that means something. I find some comfort in that, especially when you take a look at what happened to indigenous people in British colonies. In relation to this, there's this something that's been haunting Spain since a thousand years ago that gains relevance when talking about this, called the Spanish Black Legend. Basically anti-Spain propaganda coming from other European countries demonizing everything the country had done/does. It started out of rivalry and envy. Nowadays, it's hard to say. This is why Hernán Cortés is always seen as an evil genocider, but not other colonizers like Julius Caesar from the Roman Empire. It also makes my blood curdle because it sticks with us in the most annoying ways possible. While American people tend to think Spain is part of Latin America, European people tend to think we're dumb, don't know other languages apart from Spanish and only like partying, and our collective international sentiment, especially facing other Europeans, is often shame. Ashamed to say you're from Spain, because there's only so many "España mucho fiesta and siesta" a sane person can take from people who only come to your country to raise the living costs, drink, sunbathe and throw themselves off balconies to jump in hotel pools. Look "balconing" up. God I HATE British people. In any case, to wrap this up, this Black Legend is also why everyone believes the Spanish colonization was the same as the British colonization. By norm, the British predated, but the Spanish generated (in America, because the Spanish DID enslave African people), despite all the horrible things it did. Because it did them.

Lastly, and just because it was also part of op's response, I want to say that I have no opinion about what negative impact this movie could have in terms of being a version of the Colombian legend of El Dorado. I don't know anything about that. I don't understand it, either. If someone wants to explain to me in which specific ways making a movie like this about it could be harmful to anyone (not the legend in itself, I think you can see I know as much), please tell me so I can think critically about it and contrast it. But please, specify the harm and consequences so I can understand them.

Jesus, I'm tired, but I want to say you CAN dislike the movie. I don't give two floating specks of dust whether you do or don't. What I do care about is that most arguments people use to say so are wrong, or rather, lack historical knowledge to support them. Or rather, there is historical knowledge which flat-out cancels them out. There IS negative portrayal on the basis of unthoughtfulness (like Chel and the Aila test), but NEVER in a mean way. On the whole, it's not the unsalvageable blatantly racist skeleton that has to be kept in the closet under lock and key that some people think it is. And, by the way, I'm very curious about why I have yet to see the same discourse about Inca portrayal in "The Emperor's New Groove". Feel free to toss it my way in case it exists and it's just I haven't seen it yet.

If you've reached this point, congratulations. Here's a disturbing little fact about me as a reward: this whole fixation that I have started because in 2020 I had a dream about this Hernán Cortés and Tzekel-kan having sex.

[mareenavee]

All the Lines Tag Game!

AUGh I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. Okay thank you to @throughtrialbyfire and @miraakulous-cloud-district for the tags! I am thus tagging @paraparadigm, @changelingsandothernonsense, @thana-topsy, @thequeenofthewinter, @gilgamish, @rhiannon1199, @elfinismsarts, @kookaburra1701, @dirty-bosmer, @nuwanders, @ladytanithia, @polypolymorph, @saltymaplesyrup and @archangelsunited!! And, you if I didn't tag you. Tag me back! I want to see!

Here are the questions for the tag game right here! Fill them out!

Without further ado, read on for some lines for The World on Our Shoulders!

A line from your fic that makes you laugh

Chapter 25: A Perfect Storm

“Then why did you not poison the Dragonborn?” Teldryn ventured. He’d already taken the coin purse from the bench next to the Thalmor without being noticed. He grinned as the man’s face twisted through several different emotions until he buried his face in his hands. “Oh, please. At this point, you must know I never did claim to be a good double agent,” the Thalmor lamented. Teldryn let out a loud cackle.

I have a few zingers lol but Varlais, Varlais. He's the comic relief here.

A line from your fic that makes you sad

Chapter 8: Haunted By the Ghost of You

“I can’t do this by myself, love. I really need you here,” he whispered to the ghost of the girl he remembered, singing in the kitchen with autumn eyes full of love and hope. She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. She was gone, and Athis knew no matter when Nyenna next came home, that girl in his memories would never, ever return.

Bean </3 Poor, poor Athis 😭 Why did I do this to him? augh.

A line from your fic you're proud of

Chapter 26: Voice Within

More and more of its lair started to fall away back into the void, or else Oblivion; patches of reality pulled forward, stark against the ruined illusion. Varlais, face set in a severe scowl, took its moment of weakness as a signal and pulled an ebony dagger from somewhere in his coat. He rushed at the Atronach, stabbing into it with all the force he could muster. As with ice, silence shattered.

I just really loved this entire scene actually. It causes so much trouble for CHAPTERS after this. And it's excellent.

A line for your fic you think could have been better

Chapter 3: A World of Fragile Things

“Of course you do,” the second vampire said. Her voice seemed calm, distant. This one was a Nord at one point, tall and imposing. She was casting a spell of some kind, but it hurt. Nyenna looked down at her hands and was shocked to see the color being drained from her, her hands almost skeletal. She screamed then, terror getting the better of her and clouding her mind.

I kind of wished I pushed the description of this magic a little bit further. I do love editing and I'm still in awe of past Katie for how far she's gotten so far. So I'm still fine with this line but it was an opportunity I didn't take.

A line from your fic that makes you want to punch a character.

Chapter 19: Although I am Already a Danger

“You seemed to be having a hard time. Nothing a sweetroll can’t fix, I figured. Want to talk about it?” he offered. Nyenna gave him an apprehensive look. She didn’t really want to talk to him particularly about all her nonsense, but if she didn’t, it would be harder to focus moving forward with all that had to be done in the next few days. “No. But I’ll tell you anyway,” she said. He scoffed. She ate the piece of sweetroll she held before continuing. “I…was not the best wife. I ran away in the middle of the night. It was unkind. I knew it was when I did it, but just like he followed me into battle with a dragon, I knew if I didn’t simply go, he’d turn his back in another horrible situation all because of me. And after everything I’ve been through, I just…I guess I couldn’t handle watching him get injured again. Or worse, as it sometimes goes with dragons.”

There are a few instances where Nyenna makes really stupid mistakes. Extremely stupid mistakes. And this, innocuous though it seems, is one of them. One of the huge ones. I think only @paraparadigm caught it. I was yelling when I wrote this. Like "REALLY NYENNA?!" On the other side of the coin, she's used to people behaving like Teldryn had before this; it was expected. When that dust settled, and he was elsewise, well. She just blabbed.

A line from your fic that makes you go 'aww'

Chapter 6: Together, We Are Enough (slightly longer snippet, I can't help it lol)

She made him feel less alone, after so long and so much struggle. They could build something beautiful together. He hoped. Better to ask and be sure. He was still grinning, and no longer cared a whit who saw, or who had comments or jokes to make on the matter. He was happy. Actually happy. And he loved her with all his heart. It may not have been a long time, but it felt right. And so he’d worn the pendant. And he had hoped. And here she was, an Amulet of Mara in her hands. “Well?” he asked, after a moment. “You want to marry…me?” she asked with a giggle. “Won’t lie. I do,” Athis answered. He felt his face get hot. Other people were shushing each other up near Jorrvaskr. A few people had even wandered further down the stairs to better spy on them. “What about you?” She gasped and all but danced in place. She held onto the amulet with both hands, staring at it just for a moment. She let it fall to her chest. She looked him right in the eye and beamed. “Of course, of course!” she squealed. She threw her arms around his neck again and he embraced her back. “Then it’s settled. It’s you and me, love,” Athis whispered, squeezing her tightly before lifting her up and spinning around. There was a huge roar of applause behind them, as the Companions and a few townsfolk there for Anoriath’s event celebrated with them. Athis laughed deeply, embracing his soon-to-be wife. They walked back up to Jorrvaskr, hand in hand, into the crowd of merry friends and feast-goers.

A line from your fic that's full of symbolism

Chapter 27: Echoes

He reached for her then, running as fast as he could toward her. He seemed to run forever, never getting any closer. As if his hands were blocked somehow. She never came into focus. Instead, the figure — who wasn’t at all Nyenna — turned, silvery hair curling back on itself like a stole. The figure threw its head back in a wicked laugh that broke through the buzz. The hair morphed into the form of a silver snake, twisting over the figure’s shoulders and arms, which they held out to either side. The snake’s scales slowly shifted golden in hue. Teldryn couldn’t see the figure’s face. He never got close enough. A sword in their other hand glinted in the light from the moonless sky, driven into the ground at their feet. Still, the image wasn’t quite clear. Still, he could not reach.

I almost linked the entire fanfic.

A line from your fic that contains an Easter egg

“Ground rules,” she said, trying to seem aggravated. “Keep those thoughts to yourself, especially in public.” “As you wish, sera,” Teldryn said, still beaming. She rolled her eyes. Geldis gave him a harsh look as he dropped off two bowls of porridge and two mugs of canis root tea, but said nothing.

I always yell about all the Tolkien references so, instead, have this Princess Bride easter egg instead :>

A line from your fic that's shocking

Chapter 1: Prologue

“I don’t regret us, for the record. My fear has nothing to do anymore with where we are and how much stronger we’ve become. We’re supposed to be together. She’s supposed to exist,” Nyenna said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She drummed her fingers over his hands which still lay on her stomach. “She? More like he," Teldryn scoffed in a teasing tone. He paused, waiting for her retort, and chuckled instead in the silence. “You keep saying that,” Nyenna said and shook her head. She laughed too, especially as the little one kicked at their touch, restless and relentless. Teldryn kissed the side of her jaw near her ear and she sighed. “I’d have never made it through any of this without you, you know.” “You would have. I see you. You’re stronger than you know,” he replied. He always said the right things at the right time. She wondered briefly how he always seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear.

I could've linked the entire prologue lol. I laid everything out on the table right at the beginning. Perhaps this isn't shocking anymore for most of you LOL but I mean...sorta yeah. There's more that probably would be. But it's not published yet. :>

A line from your fic you want to talk about more

Chapter 27: Echoes (longer snippet again lol)

“Tell me what to do,” he said after a moment. “Oh, I really hate this, though,” Neloth said, apprehension sounding odd and incongruous for him. “There’s a reason people don’t practice this way. It might seem like nothing to you now that you’ve already accomplished the connection. That it brought forth memories of immature jokes should have told me enough… But… I’ve seen people disintegrate, their Magicka pools just… gone. In an instant. I’ve… Well, I’ve done it to someone before, myself.” Teldryn stopped short. “Jokes aside, Neloth, but…you? With someone else?” When Neloth fell silent and pensive instead of digging back at him, Teldryn knew something was wrong. His stomach lurched again as the old wizard opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again and ground his teeth against whatever he was holding back. He cleared his throat before he was able to make his point. “Yes, I… It was during the Oblivion Crisis. We closed a gate that opened at Sadrith Mora. We were… We were without resources, but…” He trailed off, grief and anger crossing his brow like a squall. His eyes went dark. “I thought I didn’t care about her at the time. My apprentice.” He smoothed his robes and sighed heavily. “We were the last two mages left alive and the Redoran hadn’t gotten anywhere near the settlement yet. Neither of us were enough on our own. The option was this… indecent spellwork or both of us dying trying to break the siege of Dremora ourselves.” He fidgeted with his sleeve and looked anywhere else except at Teldryn. “It had been our last resort. I reached and she answered and then in a moment, she was gone. Ashes. Like she’d never even existed. But I still remember her. And I remember the sound of it…of her Magicka evaporating… like it was yesterday.” He cleared his throat and glanced up at the ceiling. “She wasn’t weak by any means. This happened anyway. And I… I still feel like I’ve lost something of myself all these years later. Something I’ll never get back.”

NELOTH BACKSTORY. I could and probably will write more fic set before the events of World and include more of this. More of what this person meant to Neloth, and more of what this event really caused for him personally, for House Telvanni, for his standing in the Council, for the outcome of the Oblivion Crisis. Everything. Oh it'll be so much fun.

[ghoulrats]

Okay so this was the oc I was talking about, it basically came to mind in January when I got back into undertale and underverse. And it was just in my head for a bit then I forgot but now I was reminded of it so I'm gonna talk about it

The Seer is something that just watches. Would be considered a Sans but at the same time it isn't one. It'll respond to being called "Sans" but it doesn't refer to itself by that name.

The world it resides in is like a void. A perpetual darkness with no light beyond the center point. We'll call it 'The Room' for now. The room, as stated before, is a void. But filled with millions, upon millions of chessboards. Each having their own pieces, moving from one spot to another. Every single movement represents an event in each timeline. With every new move, another board is spawned doing the opposite move. And in the center of it all is a seat or throne, whichever you choose to call it, where Seer sits.

The Seer doesn't move from its place, very rarely does it. Like it's name, it sees the game, watches them. Each move made it knows what, where, why, and who. Not having to turn around to see the games behind, above, or below. It processes each event of every timeline all at the same time. Constantly being fed information renders the Seer to its barely motionless state. And when it does move, it slow and dragged out, smooth yet rigid. Despite that downfall, it's reactions are faster. Being able to bend reality of the Room to however it sees fit. But if it's outside of the Room and in another timeline, it's basically just a normal skeleton. Without all of the timelines playing all at once in its head, it's able to move normally. But is practically powerless, only able to return to the Room.

The Room itself exists outside of the timelines. Could even be considered to not be a timeline at all. As it hasn't branched off or connected to one. Being it's own entity. To enter the Room is difficult if not impossible, you have to find some sort of rift or weak spot to be able to slip in. But even then, The Seer immediately sends whoever back to where they came from.

How The Seer came to be is unknown, only it knows but doesn't tell. A good guess would be from the very beginning if not before. Seer is old yet knowledgeable. Having seen each beginning, each choice, each end. It learned a thing or two. If you first met Seer really early into it's existence, you would see it was more active, chaotic, and immature. But even now it's still learning. And the Seer does, technically, speak. But besides verbal words. It's a literal text box. It just shows up with all that it wants to say in that moment with no noise, so it can be easy to miss if your not looking or paying attention to it.

Anyways that's all I got rn, if you made it this far I hope you enjoyed reading this and sorry if it's a bit long 😭