#for the record when I blank on a word at work or another place where I can't just say random words

[tj-crochets]

So my little brother and I are not allowed to be on the same team for family game night when we play games like Taboo, because most of the time we share a brain cell and the rest of the family has decided it's an unfair advantage. Today, I was trying to remember the word hummus but completely blanked, so what I said was: "Cabbage. No, hermitage" And my brother guessed "Brussels sprouts?" "No, it's a brown goo" I said, but my brother heard "it's a round goo" "Hummus!" he said "that explains the green from cabbage" "It was hummus, but hummus isn't green????" "Oh I was thinking of guacamole" So like. Even when he and I are thinking of totally different things we can still come up with the same word lol

[bratbby333]

i will possess your heart – satoru gojo

-this story contains very heavy nsfw content! please read at your own discretion!-

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 content warnings dead dove fic- heavy stalking, violent obsession, manipulation, forced voyeurism, forced exhibition, drugging, mentions of blood, knives, use of restraints, plot twist, dub-con 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 synopsis for as cocky as Satoru is, it’s oddly fitting. in his mind, everything belongs to him, including you. 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 word count 8k

Satoru fumbled with a tripod as he positioned his camera onto the stand and proceeded to hit record. He was thorough, making sure his chair was perfectly centered before he sat down, staring at himself in the viewfinder while he fussed with his hair, inhaling deeply. A wide grin cut across his face before dropping back into lackluster neutrality. He looked down at his lap, his fingers ran up and down his denim-clad thighs. He snapped back onto the camera blank-faced before a deranged smile pulled at his cheeks.

Click

January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point. I’m plagued by the shadows, my entire life enshrouded in darkness. I don’t remember what things were like before. Day by day, it’s all the same. I cannot escape it—this anchoring feeling of despair. The emptiness eats away at me. I’m in search of release…of some sort of freedom from this pain. I need to fill my life with meaning, to find purpose in this accursed world…I think I’ll go out for coffee today. People watching brings me so much joy. They seem to live much happier lives than me.

Click

January 16th, 6:38 PM

My daydreams must’ve blended into reality because there was no way I created someone as beautiful as she was outside my imagination. I’m certain of it. She was sitting at the bar of the cafe down the street from my apartment, dressed in business casual—she probably works nearby. How kismet. The coffee was bland, as were most things in my life, but she awoke something in me. I hope I see her again. She somehow managed to clear the cobwebs around my heart. I think my life has finally found purpose. She is my driving force. I wonder what her name is.

Click

January 19th, 6:11 AM

Feeling well-rested today. Four hours of sleep is my new record. I plan to go to the coffee shop again. Back to the place where my eyes were first blessed with the mirage of her…where I first fell in love. I hope she’s there. People are so fun to observe when they don’t think they’re being watched…it’s simple psychology. The Hawthorne Effect. When humans notice they are under observation, they change. So inauthentic. But her? She never notices. She sits so obliviously, allowing me to take her in with ease. So good to me. She’s a breath of fresh air. I hope to work up the courage to speak to her soon. My heart soars at the mere thought of being in her presence once again. It’s so refreshing to feel something after all this time. I’ve been numb for so long, but she has set my heart on fire. She is everything to me, my sole purpose for existence.

Click

January 19th, 8:27 PM

I saw her again today. She didn’t see me. Just how I like it. She typed away on her computer like normal…she’s a hard worker, it seems. Driven and strong. And here I was thinking such beauty was a thing of legend. It's refreshing to have been proved wrong–that rarely happens. Oh, how I crave her. I know she’d make me feel whole again. She can save me from all this, I can feel it. 

Click

January 23rd, 5:13 AM

Only two hours of sleep tonight. But, for some reason, I feel better than ever… I normally do when I find a reason for living, again. It’s her…it must be because of her. She keeps me going; my muse, my inspiration. She’s worked wonders on me already and she doesn’t even know it, yet. I’m going to the cafe again today, I cannot wait to see her. Maybe today I will finally speak to her.

Click

January 23rd, 9:53 PM

She never showed up today…I wonder what’s going on. Maybe she had other things to do. It’s fine, really. I’m annoyed, honestly. I waited around all day. I’ll keep checking until I see her again. 

Click

January 28th, 7:06 PM

My sweet girl has gone missing. I haven’t seen her in quite some time now. This is just ridiculous. The woman I love…is she avoiding me? No, no that cannot be. 

Click

February 2nd, 8:31 AM

I haven’t slept well in days. I’ve been awake for twenty six hours now…my mind feels like it’s filled with static and yet, I feel sharper than ever. I’ve gone to the cafe every day. Still no sign of her. I’m slipping back into my old ways, the darkness is going to return any moment. I’ve begun to hear the laughter in the shadows again. They’re making fun of me, I just know it. I need her…oh, I need her so bad. How could she do this to me? Does she not know how much I suffer when she’s not around? If I don’t see her again soon, I will never recover.

Click

February 5th, 6:21 PM

I finally saw her again today. My heartrate spiked and I nearly leaped from my seat to kiss her, to hold her, sway her side to side in a deep hug. Instead, I slipped a tracker into her purse as I walked by her chair. I must know where she works, where she lives, and what she enjoys in her free time. She slipped away from me so easily…can’t let that happen again. I need to know every little thing about her. She is my one and only after all. It would be ridiculous to love someone so deeply and know nothing about them. She is too beautiful, I cannot let her wander around unsupervised. There are some crazy people out there—you never know what could happen. I can’t lose her. I must keep her safe. I will possess her heart. No one else can have her but me. 

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru observed her for months, shadowing her all around town. He knew the woman’s routine like the back of his hand, before he ever learned her name. Sunday’s she went grocery shopping, Monday after work was her pilates class, every couple of Thursday’s she was at the nail salon, and Friday’s were seemingly payday–he picked up on her pattern of going out to nice restaurants every other week. Satoru eventually got an upper-level management position at a company that shared the office building with her job–he is incredibly intelligent and overqualified, after all; they would be foolish to not hire him. Now he could really keep an eye on her.

That was when he finally learned her name–the two of them taking the same elevator. She didn’t recognize him as the man who seemingly had the same routine as her–it’s one of the many reasons why Satoru loved her so much: her naivety. She looked into his eyes for the first time that day, her voice was soft and angelic, and the name that fell from her lips sent waves through Satoru’s body, the same name that would now be coupled with his gasping moans every evening as he stroked himself to the thought of her. 

With Satoru’s new job that brought him one step closer to her, he knew he could no longer watch her in the way he used to. His movements had to be more calculated, putting more distance between them than he normally would or hiding behind the deep tint of his car windows. If she saw his face too frequently, she surely would have caught on. Satoru smiled at the possibility of her never catching on…how she’d greet him with a smile and a friendly hug each time they “coincidentally” bumped into one another, giggling about their lives' odd synchronicities. Such a sweet girl. If only she knew.

He stopped into her job, a small gift bag hanging off his slender fingers, desperate to watch her eyes light up with the sweet gesture of an unexpected gift. He asked to see her, only to be informed by the receptionist that she had the day off.

It was no worry, he didn’t let that dull his excitement. “I’m a friend of hers, brought this in to surprise her. Do you mind showing me to her desk, I’ll just leave it there for her when she returns to work,” he said kindly. The lady working the front desk blushed under his piercing gaze and handsome features, nodding shyly and walking him to his lover’s designated area. 

Satoru thanked her, stepping into the cubicle to place his gift by her computer. His eyes glazed over her workspace. It was decorated with trinkets and family photos. He picked one up, his thumb tracing over her face. His pretty girl. That smile could bring about world peace; it definitely quieted the angered voices in his head. He scanned her desk, a moment of envy shooting through him at the thought of her dainty fingers dancing over the keyboard rather than tangling in his hair. He groaned internally, looking over his shoulder to ensure no one was around, before ducking down, rummaging through his beloved’s drawers. Stowed away in the bottom of the unit was a fuzzy, white cardigan. He brought the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply, stifling the filthy moan that nearly echoed through the cubicle. He quickly tucked it into his jacket, took one last look around, and headed toward the exit. 

In the safety of his vehicle, Satoru whipped the clothing out from under his wing, bringing it to his face once more. He undid his belt buckle with haste, shoving his dress slacks halfway down his thighs before his large fist swaddled his cock with the fuzzy white cardigan. He nearly sobbed at the contact, the smell of his car filling with her beautifully floral perfume. He brought the free edge up to his nose, taking another whiff as his hand worked furiously against his shaft. He had never finished so quickly in his life, staggered whimpers and choked moans fell from his parted lips as fat ropes shot up onto his abs and chest. His cheeks were flustered a violent red as he wiped his sticky shame away with her top. After he came, then did his clarity, and Satoru’s body ached with the thought of how good it would feel to finally be sheathed within her sticky walls, rather than her soft clothing. I’ll be with you soon. Soon, my love. 

These feelings were getting unbearable. His overactive brain had him teetering on the edge of insanity. He needed more. His imagination was no longer enough to satiate the hunger that gnawed so deeply in his core, the distanced watching and hopeless longing for the love of his life created jagged rifts in his already damaged psyche. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. A few deep breaths and the promise he made to himself to take action soon quelled his burning desire. But for how much longer could Satoru repress the demon that clawed through his body?

Satoru surveyed her while she ran to the bank, walked her dog, or took her car to the wash. But his most favorite place to watch her was from the bench just outside her bedroom window, engulfed in darkness. Pretty girl lived on the second floor, her silly little brain assumed she didn’t need curtains. She never saw him, but he always saw her. All of her. Drinking in the way her clothes were delicately removed from her pretty little frame, the way she turned and posed in the mirror–so good to him. How her skin glistened after she got out of the shower, the water droplets running along her body in the same way Satoru wanted to. 

He fell into a state of bliss, feeling spoiled by the show he was getting tonight. The lotion that she worked into her body, the beautiful set of lingerie that she dawned. His eyes buzzed around his sockets, elation flooding through him. Gorgeous, gorgeous girl. But his body went rigid and his jaw locked tight at the appearance of another man behind the love of his life. He sat upright, shoulders stiff and heart pounding in his ears at the thought of his sweet being in danger, he cursed himself for not being more aware of her surroundings on her behalf. But when his darling girl turned to the unknown man with a smile, greeting him with a gentle kiss with the lips that were supposed to be just for Satoru, his heart shattered into a million pieces. 

Oh, no. This just won’t do, my love. You are mine. 

Jealousy coursed through his veins while he looked into her room, rage balled in his fists as he watched a random man have her in the one way Satoru couldn’t. Not yet, at least. He must’ve been new in her life, judging by the way his nervous hands explored every part of her skin. Satoru laughed at this–he knew he could please his woman so much better. But betrayal nipped at the back of his neck; how could she do this to him? Had his loyalty fallen on unappreciative shoulders? No, that couldn’t be. Satoru knew she was better than that, he picked her for a reason, after all. She was just playing hard to get. 

You rejected my advances and desperate pleas, and now you throw your relationship in my face. It’s punishment enough that I can’t have you, but I won't let you let me down so easily.

Feeling at a loss, swallowed whole by his hungered desperation, he did what any rational person would. He moved in next door.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru Gojo was your next-door neighbor. He moved in only a few months after you did. You were elated, chalking it up to a lucky roll of the dice that you had met by chance at your job; he had started working for the company that shared the office park with yours. It really seemed like things were on the come-up for you. He was kind, confidently intuitive, funny, and supportive. Mildly egotistical, but it worked for him. He always invited you over for dinner and movie nights and was a strong, dependable shoulder for you to cry on. You had just moved to the city, feeling utterly lost and absolutely gutted about being so far from your support systems now, and he was your first friend. You felt safe knowing he was just a wall away. 

On a random Sunday, you opened your front door to see all the food you loved sitting at your doorstep–weird, you were just about to leave for the store. You turned your head, seeing Satoru peeking out from his cracked door, grinning at you. 

“Was this you, Satoru? You didn’t have to…this is incredibly thoughtful,” you beamed, stepping over the grocery bags to give him a tight hug. “You’re the best, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” But Satoru did, he knew exactly what you could do for him.

When you needed a ride to work, he jumped in to save you. The two of you worked in the same building after all. It was a crazy coincidence that your new neighbor turned best friend worked just a few floors above you. It’s such a small world, isn’t it? But it worked out perfectly for the two of you. 

There was a month where you were short on rent, and there was Satoru, paying the rest on your behalf. 

You weren’t catching on. Sweet, naive girl. Oh, how he loved you. I need to work harder to get her attention.

Satoru was not a patient man, but for you, he would do anything and everything to get you right where he wanted you, expertly playing the long game. It began with the fated sighting of you sitting in a cafe, and snowballed into something bigger. At first, he only ever observed you, maybe the minor occasion of overstepping, but as time went on, he couldn’t sit idly by. It was time to make his move.

His disruptions in your life started inconspicuously. Leaving for a date? You found your car tires slashed and windows shattered in the parking deck. Now there’s a police investigation. Bummer…gotta cancel the date. Had a guy over? Satoru’s apartment flooded. Weird… that was the second time this month. 

“You gotta talk to the landlord about this, ‘Toru,” you sighed. He had to stay at yours that evening. 

You cried on his shoulder, telling him that some guy stood you up on a date you had been anticipating for weeks. There was an electrical fire in that man’s apartment that night. Must’ve been faulty wiring...or something.

His apartment flooded again. He was back at your door. You welcomed him with open arms, of course. He’s so good to you, the least you could do is help him out, as well. 

Satoru, you’re slipping. That’s too many times in one month. Ease up or she’ll catch on.

Friday night, in a wild happenstance, he bumped into you while you were out with another man, enjoying a nice dinner together. He smiled warmly at the two of you, before politely dismissing himself. His cheery smile dropped into a demented grin once he stepped out of the restaurant as he anonymously called in a bomb threat to the establishment. You were so shaken up at the entire ordeal you practically begged Satoru to stay with you that night. He’d be a fool to turn you down.

Satoru got everything he wanted. You were just a tough nut to crack, is all. No big deal. He loved a challenge. After all, how could you not love him by now?

But nothing was working. You couldn’t catch the hint, even with everything he threw at you. He was always the one there for you, even when you weren’t aware of it. What more could he do to prove that he was the only person you needed? I’m reliable, witty, and loving… how can she not see this? He finally snapped. The last straw? Hearing your pleasure-filled cries while getting fucked by another man, your “boyfriend”. The lewd sounds ricocheted around your room, shooting through the thin walls of your apartment and straight into his listening ears.

Tsk, tsk. Now you’ve done it. Always been such a tease. 

For as cocky as he was, it’s oddly fitting. In his mind, everything belonged to him, including you. And with that, his demented plan was in full effect. He had hoped to spare you, prayed that you would fall in love with him before he lost his composure completely. But your sweet, naive nature had proved to be a difficult wall to break down. 

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The sound of your front door’s lock disengaging echoed through the empty hallway. Satoru stepped in, inhaling deeply as he shoved your house key into his back pocket. It was far easier to gain access into your home than he had originally anticipated; he was fully prepared to break in, but all he had to do was tell your landlord you went out of town and you forgot to leave a key with him before you left. The manager of your apartment complex knew how close you and Satoru were, so it was an easy lie to tell. But it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You weren’t out of town, he wasn’t house sitting, and you had no intentions of having company this evening.

Seated at your desk, he opened your laptop and navigated his way to your iMessage settings, ensuring you could only send and receive texts from your laptop. Clicking on the messaging app, he stifled the gag that threatened to escape his throat as he clicked on the thread between you and your boyfriend, his contact name “my love” in your phone. He rolled his eyes, before drafting a quick text: 

-Hey, baby. I have a half-day at work today…dinner and wine at my place tonight? ;)

He grinned at the quickness of your boyfriend’s response.

-I would love that. What time, my love?

Satoru scoffed at the pet name. He doesn’t deserve to call you that. Poor bastard needed to learn his place. Heat rose in his chest, jealousy emanating through his skin as he crafted his response.

-3pm…Can’t wait to see you.

Everything was going according to plan. Satoru glanced at the clock beside him: 11:17 AM. It was time to get set up, he had a big day planned for you, and his first guest would be arriving in a few short hours. 

A knock rang through the apartment as Satoru finished lighting his final candle. He smiled wide, sauntering over to the door. He swung it open, grinning politely at your boyfriend. “...Hey, man…didn’t expect to see you here…” he said warily as Satoru stood to the side and gestured him in, a quizzical look painted on your partner’s face as he stepped through the doorway. The door shut and the lock was reengaged. “Where’s…” but before he could get his question out, his chin was met with Satoru’s right fist.

Satoru made quick work of dragging his body upstairs. He dug through the unconscious man’s pants, pulling out his cellphone. Satoru was disgusted to see that you were his lockscreen. This pitiful man wasn’t worthy enough to be with you. He rolled his eyes, unlocking the man’s phone and sending you a text: 

-Hey, beautiful. Come straight home tonight. I’m making dinner for us. See you when you get off work.

You smiled at the familiar ding of your phone, the notification effectively distracting you from your tedious paperwork. Your heart soared at the message, sighing deeply and shifting your weight around in your office chair. Your hand rubbed at your face in an attempt to hide your blushing cheeks. 

“What is it?” your coworker asked. 

“Oh, nothing. I thought my boyfriend forgot our anniversary cause I hadn’t heard from him all day…but he just texted me saying he’s at my place and is making dinner for us tonight.” A giddy smile couldn’t help but drag across your face. 

Satoru looked at the clock: 3:28 PM. You would be home in an hour or so. Just a few more things had to be done, everything had to be perfect.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Your heart rate spiked as you got closer to your apartment door, keys jingling against your palm as you fumbled with the lock, excitement making your movements a bit clumsier than usual. You entered and kicked off your heels, and as you turned to toss your keys onto the small table in your foyer, you noticed a small card that said “Read Me” placed perfectly in the center of the tray. You were perplexed as your eyes scanned over the note. “Go to the living room” was all it said.

You blushed, a nervous smile pulling at the edge of your lips as you crept to the other room. Your eyes went wide at the sight; deep red roses were placed in the center of the coffee table and every accessible surface around the couch was adorned with beautifully flickering candles. Another note was on the table, your fingers fumbled with the edge of the card as you opened it: “Have a seat, take a sip, and press play.” You settled on the couch, noticing a glass of alluring red wine to the right of the roses. You took a few deep, fulfilling swigs of your drink before grabbing the TV remote. Your face twisted a bit, examining the glass in your hand, the flavor of wine different than the one you were used to. It was a special night after all, your thoughtful boyfriend must have wanted you to branch out this evening. Where is he, anyway? As you pressed play, you called out for him, only to be cut off by your own confusion as Satoru’s face appeared on your TV screen. You watched with perplexity as Satoru recentered his chair, smiled, relaxed his face, and then smiled again.

No…no, no, no. What is this? You were locked in place, the melodious sounds of Satoru’s voice cascaded out of your surround sound system. He looked different though, his eyes were dull and low, his voice monotonous–his alarming difference in demeanor sent a chill down your spine. Your groggy mind inferred that this must’ve been an accident. Maybe it was casted to the wrong TV. I shouldn’t be seeing this…these are Satoru’s video diaries. 

You so badly wanted to tear your eyes away from the screen, this seemed like such an invasion of privacy. But you were entranced, staring intently toward the TV, though you didn’t really have a choice, your body was completely numb now. 

“January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point…” you fought to keep your eyes open, to piece together what the hell was happening, until your body eventually succumbed to sleep.

When you finally came to, you were laid out on your bed, fully nude. Soft grunts lingered in the air as you worked your hardest to refocus your eyes, your head pounding. You shifted your weight onto your forearms, your neck straining as it felt like your brain was filled with lead, eyes searching your bedroom for the culprit of the moans. One glance to the left, a quick look to the right, before you stared straight ahead at the wall directly across from the bed. Your body lurched in fear as your heart sank, the source of the sounds now looking you dead in the eyes: The man you had been seeing for the past couple of months, gagged and tied to a chair, his bloodied face twisted up in agony. 

You tried to call out for him. Your feeble attempts to drag your heavy body closer in order to console him were interrupted as the room was suddenly illuminated with the streaming lights of a projector. Your movements halted as you shielded your eyes immediately, the bright interruption feeling like a flashbang to your sensitive head. 

“We didn’t get to finish my show and tell,” a voice spoke up from the dark corner. 

“Satoru?? Wha…what is going on?” you cried out, tears spilling from your eyes while your hands attempted to cover your modesty. You tried your hardest to sit upright, your head spinning, unsure if Satoru was the culprit or your savior. Your body felt like it was anchored to the floor, your head throbbing with every word that tore through your chest. 

“There’s no need for all that yelling, sweetheart,” Satoru grinned, crouching down next to you. You winced as his hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that trickled down your cheeks. 

Click

Metal cuffs clamped down on your wrists before you could even register what was happening. A million unanswered questions spun through the room as you frantically searched through his blue eyes, hoping to find any sort of insight into the torment he was inflicting upon the two of you. 

“This is what’s gonna happen, okay? I need you to listen to me.” His voice was sickeningly sweet, each syllable that left his lips more damning than the last as he dragged your limp body up the bed, securing your wrists to the headboard and angling your body toward the projected video on your wall. A crazed grin lit up his dull face as he raised his hand, pointing the remote toward the projector. “You’re gonna sit here and look all pretty f’me while you watch these tapes, and if you move, if you stop paying attention for even a second…” Your stomach churned at how gently he was able to give such vile instructions. He turned his attention towards your partner, the blade of a knife twirling through the slender fingers of his free hand, “...He’s dead. Understand, angel?” 

You nodded reluctantly, unable to do anything else but comply with his demands. Your head was spinning, trying to digest the fact that this was the same person who had paid your rent and entertained your rants after a hard day of work. You listened as his voice continued to drabble over the static of the projector, recalling how bland that day had been until he saw your face. How he must’ve dreamt of you because there was no way your beauty could exist outside of his imagination. To you, it had been a normal Tuesday afternoon. To him, it had been the start of the rest of his life. 

The longer you watched, the more the realization set in that the sweet gestures he presented to you were not out of the goodness of his heart, but from the darkness of his spirit, driven by his wanton lust. Your face was slack, eyes wide in horror. Disappointment crawled through your chest at your own naivety. How could I be so oblivious? So trusting? 

Satoru’s eyes bored into the side of your face as he sat beside you, his hands rubbing deep circles into your bare thighs, pure elation shooting through his veins at his sweet girl finally having a look into his mind. The look of terror that painted your beautiful face made his heart leap with joy. Satoru’s giddy demeanor dropped as pained grunts emerged from the tethered man against the wall. He stood, closing the distance between the two of them, his fist encircling your boyfriend’s throat. You began to protest, to plead with Satoru to leave him be, but the rage that filled his eyes made you shut your mouth. “Uh uh…eye’s on the screen, my love.” Your head snapped back toward the videos, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as the muffled wailing of your boyfriend filled the room. 

As the final video played, Satoru returned to your side, kneeling on the edge of the bed as he  stroked the back of your head and rubbed at your cheeks. “Can’t you see all that I’ve done for you?” He grabbed your face, digging his fingers deep into the space under your cheekbones, forcing your lips into a pucker. “You belong to me, my love.” A deep growl rumbled through his chest, “You look so fucking beautiful like this.” He leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, his hot tongue bullying its way through your tight lips. Small whines echoed through your mouth and into his, and Satoru greedily swallowed up your sounds with ease. Whimpers of protest came from the wall across from your bed, but they were quickly drowned out by the wet sounds of smacking lips and battling tongues.

He broke away, a thick trail of spit still connecting the two of you. Satoru released your cheeks with a gentle shove, throwing his leg over yours to straddle you. He dropped his head to your neck, his white hair brushing against your skin. You winced as he licked a thick line from your collarbone to your ear. “I finally get to have you,” he whispered, nipping at your flesh, “You ready to give yourself to me, princess?” Your eyes widened in horror, your gaze affixed towards your boyfriend, blood trickling from the fresh cuts on his cheeks. Your head shook side to side, tears brimming in your eyes once more as your thoughts raced through your mind, causing a traffic jam in your throat. “I…no, I can’t…he’s…” Satoru’s palm covered your mouth, a groan erupting from the back of his throat as his eyes rolled deep into his skull. He sat back, staring down at you, his free hand running its fingertips between your breasts. “This has nothing to do with him…It’s just me and you now, my love.” Your head snapped up to stare at your captor as the rough pads of his fingers brushed over your nipples. A stifled moan teased the back of your throat, an exasperated look of fear in your eyes as you stared up at Satoru.

Your cheeks flushed as you held his gaze. He grinned back down at you before rolling the hardened bud between his fingertips. Your chest arched toward him, a shameful hum dancing from your lips as he played with you. A deep laugh erupted from the blue-eyed man at your unintentional reaction, his head thrown back with pure joy as he continued to pull at your nipples. He leaned into your neck once more, his teeth grazing the outer shell of your ear. “I knew it,” he purred, “Knew you wanted me, too. You were just playing hard to get, isn’t that right?” You shook your head once more, your words constricted in your chest. “N-no…I never wanted you,” you retorted, head thrown to the side, attempting to distance yourself from him, but to no avail. The weight of him anchored your lower half to the mattress while your tethered wrists held you in place.

A deep chuckle rumbled through Satoru, “So if I feel your pussy, it won’t be absolutely soaked right now?” A pathetic whimper escaped your throat as you shook your head furiously. The rolling motion against your nipples halted and his hand trailed lower down your abdomen. “Hmm…let’s see then, shall we?” he taunted, tracing your skin before rubbing your folds and dipping into your core. “I knew it…you’re fucking drenched f’me, sweetheart.” He shoved two fingers in, shallowly teasing your hole before withdrawing, bringing his sopping digits between your faces, turning his wrist as the dim light of the room illuminated the wetness, making it glisten ever so slightly. He examined them before meeting your fearful gaze. “Why did you lie?” He sucked his middle digit into his mouth, his tongue lapping hungrily at your sweet juices as his eyes fluttered shut. A hum emanated from Satoru as his other soaked finger pushed past your lips, “Here, have a taste, pretty girl,” his long digit dancing around your tongue. “So fucking sweet. You have no idea how badly I’ve been craving this.” 

“I’ll ask you again, princess…Why’d you lie to me? I thought you were better than that,” he teased, an insincere pout twitching at his lips as he cradled your chin. Your body thrashed as his hands pawed down your body, plunging two fingers deep inside you again. Your back arched toward him, his knee between your legs was the only thing keeping you open for him. “I…It wasn’t..ahh!– I wasn’t lying…I–”. Your words fell on deaf ears as a wicked smile crept across Satoru’s face.

“Shhh…shhh my sweet girl, just lay back and enjoy,” he smirked as he crawled down your body, laying himself flat on the bed with his head nestled between your legs. Satoru’s body no longer shielded you from your boyfriend, your teary eyes darted across his face, a silent apology being sent his way. Small gasps escaped your lips as Satoru continued to pump into you, the tips of his curled fingers toying with your sweet spot. When you stared down at him, the look of pure desire peered back at you, the dampness between your legs skyrocketing at the sight. A scarlet dusting of shame brushed across your cheeks at your clear enjoyment of all this, even though it betrayed every natural instinct you had. His tongue darted out from between his lips, the tip circling your swollen clit as his fingers dipped in and out of you, his movements spurred on by his own desperation.

He was delirious, suckling against your clit while his fingers worked into you with fervor, moans and growls echoing through the room as he drank you in. You so badly wanted to break away, to console your boyfriend who had an unintentional front row seat to you falling apart on someone else’s tongue, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop him, his digits hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Pleasure ripped through your body as a tightening sensation crept its way into your stomach. The rattling of your cuffs echoed through your bedroom as you fought against your restraints, desperately wanting to tangle your fingers in Satoru’s hair.

Your hips bucked toward his mouth, your body aching for release as your pelvis thrusted against his flattened tongue. You didn’t dare look away from Satoru, for you knew there was another set of eyes affixed upon the damning scene that was unfolding. He continued to hum and suck and pump into your core as you tightened around him, his slender fingers quickly coaxing your orgasm from your writhing body. Your eyes screwed shut as your gushy walls spasmed around his fingers, your release painting Satoru’s overly-eager face. He lapped at you some more, working you through your orgasm as he cleaned you up with his wickedly talented tongue. 

A deep growl broke through Satoru’s chest as he removed his head from between your legs, the back of his hand dragging across his chin, catching the last of your release before he licked you off of him. He sat upright, craning his neck to look over his shoulder, “Hope you were taking notes,” a smug grin on his face as he addressed your watching boyfriend. He redirected his attention to you. “Did so good f’me, angel. Dreamt of that for so long…” he grinned, his tongue darting out to trace along his lips, hoping there was still some of you coating his face “...I could do that all fuckin’ day.” 

Your shaking chest heaved as clarity settled into your mind. Satoru untethered your wrists from the headboard, shifting your body so that you were on your hands and knees, head positioned toward the wall your partner was leaning against. Strangled sounds rang from your boyfriend’s chest as you finally met his gaze. Humiliation prickling under your skin at the realization of what you had just done. But you had no time to dwell on it as Satoru repositioned himself on the bed.

“He’s gonna watch me destroy you, my sweet girl,” Satoru was kneeled behind you, lining himself up with your embarrassingly soaked entrance. He grasped your hips roughly, sinking into you in one fluid motion. You choked out a sob as you dropped your head in shame.

“You’re so pretty when you cry. He can’t help you…can’t save you. Go ‘head, keep cryin’ for him,” he cooed, his thrusts deep and slow inside of you. Jagged moans escaped your throat as the thick head of his cock brushed into your sweet spot. “He can’t make you feel as good as I do.”

He leaned down, reaching around to cradle your throat in his hand, squeezing tightly as he turned your head to the side, his sharp eyes running up and down your contorted face. “Can’t you see that you belong to me, how my poor heart aches for you? How badly I’ve needed you?” His thrusts were agonizingly slow but incredibly deep, the pressure in your tummy betraying your desire for this to stop. “That’s it, my love. Feel you clenching down on me…you’re getting off on this, aren’t ya?” His hips rocked deeper into you, the new depth had your hands clawing at the sheets of your bed as pleasure worked its way through your trembling body.

“He doesn’t treat you the way I do. He never will. No one is better for you than me, princess,” he seethes, his hand cupping your chin, holding your head up, “Now look in his eyes while I use you.” His pace picked up, pulling you back on to him with his anchored hand around your neck. A broken sob cut through your constricted throat as he fucked into you, the visceral sound of flesh smacking against flesh and whines and cries spun through the otherwise stiff air of your room. He palmed at the fat of your ass, pulling your body to meet his rough thrusts. A choked cry left your lips as you maintained eye contact with your boyfriend, crimson droplets running down his face, mimicking the pattern of your tears. You mouthed a silent “I’m sorry” to him before your eyes shut tightly, waves of sinful bliss pulsed through your body with every mean thrust of Satoru’s hips.

“Gettin’ so tight around me–f-fuuuck–you’re close, huh?” Your face contorted in shameful pleasure as you nodded, your back arching even more to take him deeper. “That’s it…c’mon, my love. Need you to cum on my cock,” Satoru begged, his voice airy as he got lost in your tight, sopping walls. “Show me how good I make you feel.” His words ricocheted around your head as the building pressure in your stomach finally snapped, your legs shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through your body, splattering onto Satoru’s thighs and the mattress below you. 

A few more strokes met your dripping center before Satoru bottomed out inside of you, thick ropes of his pearlescent seed painting your spasming walls. He finally released his tight grip around your throat, your head dropping immediately as indignity plagued your trembling frame. He pulled out, spreading your cheeks as he leaned down, an animalistic growl pulling from his chest as he watched his cum dribble out of your pussy. 

Satoru rubbed soothing circles into your lower back as you worked to regain your breath. “You’re mine,” he whispered. He unlatched the restraints from around your wrists, a coy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the purple bruises that marked your skin. He locked eyes with your boyfriend, a deranged smile dancing across his face as he reached for the discarded projector remote. 

Another familiar voice flooded through the speaker, but this time it wasn’t Satoru’s. “...We broke up a few weeks ago. No, no. Really, it’s okay. She was kind of a bitch anyway.” Your pupils widened as you stared back at the man you had just been feeling sorry for minutes ago, rage mixing into the vast sea of emotions you were already feeling while you watched a grainy video of him snaking his arm around another woman’s waist. The two of them were laughing outside of his house before she leaned in to kiss him. 

“My poor sweet girl.” Satoru’s hand brushed lightly against your cheeks, catching tears that you didn’t even realize had begun spilling out. “I didn’t want you to have to find out this way, but I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

There were a million other ways he could have broken the news to you, but that somehow wasn’t the most pressing issue at hand. 

“An eye for an eye, right?” The same haunting grin that you’d grown to know all too well spread across his face again, his blue eyes slicing into your ex-boyfriend’s. “I can’t believe that my entire world was in the hands of someone so undeserving…” he redirected his attention back to you and recaptured your cheeks in his hands. He leaned down to meet your gaze, unexpected softness replacing his usual sinister demeanor. “What do we do now, baby? It’s your call.”

Your pulse was ringing through your ears. “My call?” your voice was reduced to a whisper as you repeated it back to him. 

“I’m going to kill him either way, but I want you to tell me how.”

You pondered for a moment, still coming to terms with the chain of events that lead you to this one vengeful moment. 

Satoru stood, sauntering over to your boyfriend, stooping down to his level while his hands hovered over his gag. “When I take this off, I don’t want to hear anything other than remorse come from that pathetic fuckin’ mouth of yours.” Your boyfriend’s eyes shifted towards you, then back to Satoru, as he nodded pitifully. The tie was pulled from his mouth. His words were broken, barely audible. “I’m -” he choked out. “I’m sorry, I -”

Your stomach lurched as a sharp smack met his cheek, the painful sound resonating through the room. “You can do better than that. You got one more try,” Satoru spat, his eyes burning into your ex-lover’s bloodied face as he wrapped his fist around his throat, jostling his head around in a fit of rage. 

“Satoru,” you hardly recognized your tone let alone the thoughts that were racing through your head. The last few hours of your life had been a blur. The words you heard earlier made perfect sense now, “Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point.” You were officially at that point. “Satoru, don’t. Let’s just end this.”

It was the first time you’d ever seen the silver-haired man look surprised. His eyebrow raised, a mix of curiosity and amusement glinting in his eye. “Tell me how,” he repeated. “I need to hear you say it.” 

You were in a dream. Nothing more than a figment of Satoru’s imagination, just like he had said. It was the only thing that made sense to you because there was no way any of this was actually happening. 

“Rip his heart out,” your voice emotionless as you gazed toward the blue-eyed man. Satoru groaned deeply, his dick twitching at the sound of your pretty voice speaking his dark language. The same depraved grin pulled at the edge of his lips as he looked back at your ex. 

“Well,” he smirked, “looks like it’s decided then…” Adoration swam through his ocean eyes as he looked back at you, “I knew I picked the right one.”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The lock of your front door unbolted as your bodies pushed through the door frame, giggling as four glasses of wine danced through your systems. Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. “Happy anniversary, my love,” he mumbled against your lips. His hands grasped yours as he led you toward the couch. 

You nestled into the warmth of his chest, his arm secured around you while you gazed around the room. Your head spun from the wine-induced nostalgia that this day had inevitably brought on. You were still in the same apartment, only it belonged to both of you now. A blend of sentimental gifts decorated your bookshelf that the two of you had collected over the last year. A camcorder, pressed red roses, framed vacation photos, and the first set of diamond earrings he’d bought you stowed away in a heart-shaped jewelry box. But out of all of the memories that tied you together, there was one that stood out the most. 

“Should we open it?” you whispered, drawing lazy circles into his shoulder.

You didn’t have to see his face to feel his smirk. He knew his girl and he knew her well. He stood wordlessly, retrieving a jar from the highest shelf. He presented it to you, a smug grin gracing his ethereal features, the same look that was permanently etched into your brain the night he got it for you. 

“Be my guest, princess.” You unscrewed the lid, peering into the jar as the strong scent of formaldehyde tickled your nose. You smiled longingly into the container, the overwhelming feeling of love reverberating through your chest. There was something so beautifully poetic about Satoru’s limerence, the lengths at which he went to steal the heart of another in order to fully possess yours. 

author note: im so sorry for not posting my sweets,, i had the worst case of writer's block and i was actively trying to work on six different WIPs...i was losing my mind.

this was quite the heavy fic to write...i hope i didn't scare anyone away with it lol

alsoooo!! sending out the biggest thank you to @remlionheart for forcing me to finish this...my editor, my co-writer, the love of my life ♡ ⋆｡˚

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do no distribute. 2024.

[earlgreytea68]

Host: So where did this one start? Patrick: So, uh, typically I kind of just start with Pete's lyrics and see what that inspires me to, you know, how does this sound? You know, when I read this, what do I think this sounds like? Host: And when Pete sends you those lyrics -- So, is Pete working on lyrics all the time? He's just working on lyrical ideas and then -- Does he ever put a tune to it? Or does he send you a blank page? Patrick: No. He doesn't even send me lyrics in lyric form. He just sends words. And it's interesting when you see it. It's almost like one-liner after one-liner. (chuckle) And I'll just get an email of those. And then you kind of have to-- Neal: The Henny Youngman of lyrics? Patrick: (laughs) Yeah. And then you have to -- Kind of. It's like the -- My dad had a Yogi Berra quote book sitting on his coffee table. It's kind of like that, where it's just one-liner, one-liner, one-liner, and you have to figure out what thematically goes together, what feels like the same song. But then also I do try to keep things together as much as possible, because I feel like he's in a place where it does feel like one thought, you know? And, um -- But yeah, when he sends it, that's all he sends. There's no music or anything. And so when I read there's a kind of, for me, almost passive thing, where I read it and just imagine what it sounds like to me. And so this one scared me a lot because it felt kind of sparse, and I don't really like sparse, I don't really like singing by myself, I don't really like -- You know, I like orchestras, I like being one musician out of, you know, hundreds. I don't really like being so front and center, and I could tell there was something really intimate about this song and that was a big challenge for us. Well, for me. Everybody else seemed convinced. As soon as I finished demo-ing it and I sent it out to everybody, everybody went for it. This I think is the first song that we started, or one of the first songs that we started, Neal, when you and I got together. It's from the first session. And, you know, we had done that first session of "are we going to work together?" This came from that first session. But I think we also spent the longest on figuring out how to actually realize it because I wasn't satisfied with just my voice. With just my voice over keys, it was killing me. It was too naked or something. And I needed more of a story happening with the synths and stuff, with the guitars and all of that. So that took us a long time. Host: Interesting. And is Heaven, Iowa a place? Patrick: I believe so. I don't know if it's real or not. I believe it's the place from "Field of Dreams." Pete was really obsessed with "Field of Dreams." There's something in that story that really, like, set his vision for the whole record lyrically, I guess, so I think that's what it is. But I don't ask. I try not to ask about his lyrics because I feel like there's a thing about it where -- First off, he gives you terr -- He will not explain things. But second off, it also kind of -- I think there's something to that, you know? Where I'll read his lyrics and I'll interpret it one way and years later I'll realize it's another way. There's so many double entendres that I've only gotten, you know, decades later. (chuckle) I'll be singing and I'm like, "Oh, it's a sex thing! I didn't catch that." You know? (x) (this is around 45 minutes in)

[ugh-yoongi]

your hand is touching mine and i can't stop myself from taking it & Yoongi

thank you for the request! i've had this sitting in my drafts forever, so it gave me an excuse to finish it (and why it's so long dgkjd one day i will learn what a drabble is). i hope you enjoy it. <3

i call this yoongi's romantic comedy of errors.

pairing: yoongi x f. reader

genre: friends to lovers, miscommunication, fluff/comedy

warnings: reader is taehyung's sister, they're coworkers, yoongi is really bad at asking people out on dates someone pls help our boy, some swearing. this was long and i was too lazy to edit it, so if you see any mistakes no you didn't.

wordcount: 2100

taking valentine's day drabble requests here ♡

Yoongi reaches for his wallet, cheeks aching from hours spent laughing.

He’s glad he did this—took a chance, asked you out properly. There’s none of the usual awkwardness that comes along with nights out, none of the dread of having to turn someone down, none of the guilt. No, this had gone well. Better than he ever could’ve imagined, and instead of preparing his trademark I had a great time, but… speech, he’s trying to figure out how to ask you out again without being a floundering, incompetent mess.

But then you reach for your wallet, too, and Yoongi—

“What are you doing?” he laughs, aiming for casual.

It works. You laugh softly, quirking an eyebrow. “Getting my card so we can split the bill.”

The words are out of his mouth before his brain can catch up. “What? I can’t let you pay on a—”

Everything comes to a screeching halt. A record-scratch moment. Because he finally figures out what’s going on, sees the way your eyes widen in panic at Yoongi calling this a date. Surely, he’d been clear enough when he asked you to dinner. He had to have been. He distinctly remembers wearing his best shirt into the office that day. He’d even worn the expensive cologne—the one he’d carefully rationed because you’d complimented it before and he didn’t want it to run out before he got a chance to use it properly.

No, he couldn’t have been that dumb. Still—he wracks his brain, tries to remember how he’d worded it, except now he’s in survival mode and everything’s coming up blank. So he does the only thing he can think of—“I can’t let you pay for your birthday dinner.”—and lies.

What a fucking idiot.

“Yoongi,” you say slowly, like you’re talking to the idiot he most definitely is. “My birthday isn’t for another four months.”

The laugh he forces out can only be described as a hellish witch cackle. “I know that,” he insists, “but I just figured why not, you know! Who says you can’t take your friends to birthday dinners four months early?”

You’re nearly stunned into silence. “But this isn’t even our traditional birthday dinner restaurant.”

“I wanted to try something new,” he answers, even though it comes out more like a question. He had wanted to try something new, and look where that’s gotten him. “Hoseok said this place was nice.”

“Yeah, but Hoseok’s been with his partner for eighty years.”

Yoongi’s laugh is pained, now. No more witch cackle, just the dying wheezes of a man running out of excuses and time. One of his favorite things about you is how smart and unwilling to put up with bullshit you are. A week ago, he never would’ve entertained being on the receiving end of it, but now it’s all he can do to tread water. “Oh, really?” he asks, playing stupid. “I didn’t think this place had, like, partner vibes.”

“There’s a little candle on the table,” you deadpan. “There’s a woman in the corner playing a violin. It absolutely has partner vibes.”

“Maybe I just wanted to splurge?”

Your stare is pointed, gaze full of suspicion. “Did you, now.”

There’s a moment where the light breaks through the clouds. Clarity, and Yoongi doesn’t make the same mistake twice. You’re not buying anything he’s selling, so he’s not going to force it. This wasn’t a date for you. He’ll tuck his tail between his legs and take the loss, and it’ll hurt, sure, and it’ll be one of those things that keeps him up at night years into the future, the embarrassment agonizing, but keeping your friendship intact is more important.

So he just sighs. Hands your credit card back to you and ignores your protests. “Of course I did,” he answers. Tries handing the envelope with just his card inside to a passing waiter, but you throw your arm into the aisle to stop him.

“Quit playing with me and tell me what’s going on,” you snap. “You’re being weird and I don’t like it.”

The waiter side-steps your arm and says, “Please unhand me, ma’am.”

(God, Yoongi’s going to have to triple his tip.)

“Shut up, Taehyung, I’m not even touching you.”

(Quadruple it, by the looks of it.)

Taehyung just sighs. “Fuck you, dude. I didn’t bother you the entire time you were on your date, and now you wanna mess with me when I’m just trying to cash out and go home.”

Yoongi says—“Oh, do you know him?”

—at the same time you say, “He’s my broth—what do you mean my date?”

Taehyung looks at you the way you’d looked at Yoongi. “Do you know where you are right now?”

You snap your fingers. “Because it has partner vibes, right?”

“Definitely has partner vibes,” Taehyung agrees. “There’s little candles on the tables.”

You turn to Yoongi. “I told you!” All he can do is shrug. Candles aren’t really his thing, mostly just ambiance, so what does he know.

Taehyung looks between the two of you, clearly running numbers in his head. How to not lose his tip, probably, or maybe envisioning what Yoongi would be like as a brother-in-law. No, wait—

“Okay, I’m gonna go. This is really weird and you’re both very stupid. Bye.”

You roll your eyes. “Yoongi’s just—”

“I literally do not care who my sister is dating! It’s none of my business!” Taehyung calls over his shoulder, much to Yoongi’s horror and the dismay of the rest of the patrons.

Once he’s gone, the two of you sit in awkward silence. He’s surprised you’re sticking around. The night has turned into an absolute shitshow, and Yoongi wouldn’t blame you a bit for leaving, though the fact that you haven’t has him hesitantly optimistic. Maybe he can salvage this, figure out a way to explain the miscommunication in a way that doesn’t sound condescending, because I’m sorry I thought I asked you out properly makes you sound like a dunce who can’t comprehend when they’re being asked out properly.

What a mess.

It’s not until Taehyung returns with his card, he’s tipped 50%, and he’s moving to put on his jacket do you speak. “Was he right?”

“Your brother?” Yoongi asks reflexively. You nod and his palms get all sweaty. “Um. I’m not really sure how to answer that.”

You snort. “Honestly, for a start.”

“I—okay,” he acquiesces. “Maybe not here, though. People are still staring and it’s making me want to throw up.”

The two of you move to his car. He turns it on and lets it idle, turns on your seat warmer and the heat because it’s cold outside and he’s already sweating buckets so what difference does it make. He’s got the anxiety shakes, anyway. And it’s not lost on him that this is new, too. Before, the two of you always met up in the city. Separate cars, separate ways. He’d picked you up tonight. Right at seven, just like he’d said, so he can’t figure out where everything had gone sideways.

“Okay, I’m just gonna—I did think this was a date,” he says. Feels good to get it out there, he supposes, but the way your jaw drops doesn’t make him feel too great.

You snap it shut. “Oh. Okay.”

He picks at his dress pants. He knows the fabric is expensive but not what it is. The salesperson at the store said it was one of their best and the charge on his card confirmed it. He’d bought three-million won pants for a date and he’d managed to fuck it all up. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Huh? What d’you mean for what. For thinking it was a date when it wasn’t.”

Friendships have survived worse, right? There’s a guy who works with both of you who divorced his wife of ten years and they still go on vacations together all the time, so the two of you are going to be fine. Shit, would Yoongi be able to go to Saint-Tropez with you after a divorce? That’s some heavy shit. That’s almost insane, he thinks. Does he have that kind of maturity? Is it maturity? The guy works in the communications department, so maybe he’s just… good at that? Maybe Yoongi should’ve asked him for some pointers.

“Can I just ask,” you start, and it’s the way you turn in your seat, angling your body towards him, that activates his fight-or-flight. Yoongi’s anxiety is not built for this kind of confrontation. Not at all. “What made you think it was a date?”

“My pants are three-million won,” he blurts out.

“You thought this was a date because… you’re wearing expensive pants?”

He groans. Bonks his head against the steering wheel and nearly has a heart attack when the horn beeps, far too loud for this parking garage. “No, it’s not just the pants. I thought I’d been very clear when I asked you to dinner that it was, like, a date. And then I almost said that and you looked really panicked, like you’d rather be buried alive, so I lied and said it was a birthday dinner even though it obviously wasn’t, and then your brother—and, yeah. I don’t know. Clearly I’m not as good at this as I thought I was.”

“Okay, first of all: yikes.” Yoongi nearly wails. “Secondly: Yoongi, you said you don’t date coworkers! Why the hell would I have thought this was a date?”

“In my defense, I said that a long time ago.”

“And never rescinded it!” you argue back. “Why would I think that’d changed?”

“Well—because!” Your stare is blank. “Because I picked you up—”

“I told you my car is in the shop three days ago—”

“And I’m pretty sure when I asked, I said, do you want to go to dinner with me—”

“Sure,” you concede, “as friends! We always go to dinner together!”

“But…” He sighs, runs his hands down his face. Might as well rip off the bandaid. “My pants.”

“Yoongi, all of your pants are expensive. You make an ungodly amount of money a year.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day?” he tries again.

You groan. “Yeah, and I’m supposed to give you a gift.” You run your hands over your face, and it’s really stupid, Yoongi thinks, because you’re wearing makeup. Did you always wear makeup when the two of you went to dinner? He can’t remember. He knows “no makeup” makeup is a thing, so he’s not all that confident he could tell what is and isn’t makeup, and it hits him for the millionth time this evening how bad he is at this.

“Look,” you continue, “let’s just… go somewhere else.”

“Maybe you should pick, since…” He gestures vaguely at himself.

You nod. “Yeah, good idea. That new ice cream place is close. We could go there.”

Yoongi glances out the window. It’s cold outside. A little gray, too, so it’s probably going to snow, considering it’s the middle of February and it’s been unseasonably cold, even for winter. But it’s not an outright rejection. It’s your idea, and if he dares to think it, the look you’re giving him is hopeful. He’s sure the wires in his brain will overheat and start crackling at the mere thought of you wanting to spend more time with him, so he’s agreeing before he can think twice. If his fucking pants are three-million won, they better keep him warm.

He doesn’t know what to do once you’re out of the car. Does he try to hold your hand? Does he loop his arm through yours? Throw an arm over your shoulders and pull you against his side? He’s already ten steps behind. He’s got a few centimeters on you, but your legs are longer, and it’s a little embarrassing, the hurried waddle he does to catch up. And he must sidle up too close, because your hand brushes against his.

Still warm, even though it’s going to snow. Even though you aren’t wearing gloves. All he can think is that the two of you are on your way to some new ice cream place because you wanted to go there, even though he’s put you through the ringer tonight, so he exchanges his stupidity for bravery. Closes in a little more, smiles when you look up at him and cock an eyebrow.

Because your hand is brushing against his, and he can’t stop himself from taking it.

For the first time all night, he knows it’s the right move when you smile.

[twistnet]

you can take it [ jake seresin ]

⋯ KINKTOBER PROMPT ; day 15 [ overstimulation ]

⋯ WARNINGS ; female!reader, smut [ overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia, rough sex, dom!reader, mention of handjobs + blowjobs, bound hands, mention of safe word, cum ] + mature language

⋯ NOTE ; this content is strictly for those 18+ ; any minors // ageless // blank blogs interacting with this post // masterlist will be blocked

the thing was... jake seresin had never once been put in his place. sure, there were times where he had stepped out of line during his training and had ultimately paid the price for it in the form of push-ups. but he had managed to walk through a good part of his life with a largely inflated ego and dazzling smile to match. and if it wasn’t his presence that got you weak at the knees, it was definitely his mouth -- something he prided himself in. and something that got him into this mess.

you had your own reputation, and considering your experience, you knew exactly how to put blonde, cocky pilots in their place. jake seresin was just another in need of a reminder that his usual tactics were definitely not going to fly with you.

he had been eager to get you in his bed from the moment you entered the hard deck. and was completely dazzled by your quick enthusiasm to go home with him -- thinking that this would be an all too easy lay.

yet, you had surprised him when you managed to wrestle him underneath you. fixing him with a pointed glare when he attempted to unseat you with a flex of his thighs, “try that again, and i’ll tie you to the headboard.” you growl, enjoying the look he sends your way the second the words leave your lips. almost surprised that someone, much less you, would talk to him in such a way.

“i think you’ve got a wrong idea on how this night is gonna go, darlin’.” he smirks up at you, eyes wild with mischief and pride that slowly seems to be fading away with each passing moment. more so, when you shake your head and let out a dark chuckle. “i know exactly how this night is gonna go... and there’s nothing you’ll be able to do that can change my mind.”

once more, jake attempts to unseat you from his lap, growing in frustration when you barely move and sigh in disappointment before reaching for the belt clasped around your waist. in a quick flash, it’s pulled from your belt loops and the leather is bound around the skin of his wrists. effectively rendering him useless.

the cocky facade had quickly fallen from his face, and for the first time in what seemed like a long while, jake seresin was rendered speechless. you had taken some satisfaction in the way his eyes grew wide, mouth dropping open in accompaniment as he struggled to find the words to mitigate the situation, but it would inevitably be fruitless as you weren’t going to stop until you had him crying below you.

and you had followed through on that promise as strangled whimpers filled the air of the bedroom there was a quiver in jake’s hips as he tirelessly bucked up into your fist, eyes screwed shut and brow furrowed as he tried to work himself closer to his orgasm. your hand gave little relief, as you weren’t focused on giving him anything -- wanting him to earn, get himself back into your good graces.

“you’re doing so good, jakey -- are you going to come again for me?” you coo down at him, teasing smile stretching across your lips at the sight of his bottom lip trembling, “cause you’re a good boy, aren’t you jake? ” 

this is the third orgasm you’ve managed to draw from him in the past hour -- not that you’re trying to set a record or anything, but it’s something you want to be able to dangle over his head when he happens to get mouthy with you at a later date.

jake, deep down, follows the orders he’s given to a tee. meaning, you know damn well he’s going to give you another orgasm even if it breaks him. and yet, even with that in mind, it doesn’t muffle the frustrated noise he makes, and the bright shine of tears lining his water line in the dim light.

your brow raises in response, your hand lighting around him just enough to elicit a noise that leaves his lips brings an absolute smile to your face, and it makes you wonder for a moment if you’d be able to draw out any other fun sounds from him before he eventually cums again.

“do you need to use your safe word, baby?” you question, eyes scanning his face for any thing you know to be different, but you are barely able to get the words out before jake’s shaking his head swiftly, “no! - want to come again, “ he hiccups, “please”

you nod eagerly, wanting nothing more than to see him come undone once more, and you set a slow pace as to not overwhelm him. the pace starts out slow, working up to a pace that your jerking him quite roughly. he keens with each movement of your hand, face wet with tears that you can't wipe away quickly enough.

then, your hand picks up in pace with your thumb brushing over the tip of his cock. smearing the collection of cum from his previous orgasms around the painfully red tip. he yelps in surprise, hips jerking up into your fist at a record speed. chasing after that much needed orgasm as his face and chest begin to flush a deep red color.

his trembling at this point, mouth moving yet no words fall fro his tongue. all he can do is whine in time with each movement of your hand, chasing so desperately for his release. his hips twitch up, back arching and exposing his neck and the thick veins that bulge from the strain.

"Come on," you murmur in command, "be a good boy for me and cum." the words re enough to set him off, and those ocean blues roll to the back of his head and he goes still. 

jake’s vision whites out completely as his hips jolt up, and he comes for you for the fourth time tonight. small ropes of cum shot out to cover the back of your hand -- and you almost think for a moment you managed to jerk him dry.

you hand stills, and you’re quick to lean forward, hands smoothing along his sides until you reach where his hands are now loosely tied to the headboard. nibble fingers unlatch the belt clasp and his arm fall limply to either side of his head.

“jake...?” you mutter, hand ghosting along the side of his face as you wait for a response -- knowing the time limit before you would need to call for some help. it takes a moment as jake comes to, eyes blinking heavily as he swallows to quell his dry throat and mouth.

“darlin...” he chokes out, “were you tryin’ to kill me?” he eventually gets out, earning a laugh from you as you lean down to press a soft kiss to his lips before standing from the mattress, “only a little bit... “ then you’re pressing another kiss to his forehead before stepping towards the bathroom, “wait there... i’m gonna get you cleaned up.”

blog navigation ⇢ [ kinktober masterlist ]

[munsonsreputation]

y’all are never gonna hear me shut the fuck up about this…but this is screaming 1989 is it NOT?!

I might be delusional but I am delusional for a REASON! this is clearly 1989 coded in some odd yet very obvious way…just bear with me here

1989 is the next re-record that might come before this year ends or possible early next year! in the karma music video there are multiple Easter eggs that hint to 1989tv but specifically the last scene….

she brings coffee to her supposed “partner” and the coffee has a design in which the clock strikes 12.

Since the announcement of Midnights, the clock has been a symbol throughout Taylor’s career — the variants of Midnights, the different editions (3am, till dawn, ect.), even the opening visual to the eras tour.

could this possibly be another tease for the clock to be used to announce 1989tv and the possible music video we could be getting??!

in the song “you are in love” she sings “coffee at midnight” and this is obviously the scene at the end of the karma music video!

while the song is loosely based off Jack Antonoff and his then partner Lena Dunham — the song is basically about two people who fall in love and it gushes about the simple and mundane life between the lovers while also acknowledging the moment they fall in love.

now I’m not saying Joe and Taylor are together or dating, but I am saying there is a possibility he could be staring in the “You Are In Love” (Taylor’s Version) Music Video!

1989 is an iconic era in itself and we were gifted with some of the most amazing, memorable, dramatic, and fun music videos (bad blood, ootw, wildest dreams, style, shake it off, blank space, and new romantics)

but what makes “You Are In Love” different is the domesticity of love and how it seems to not be so chaotic. in the song she expresses literally the different moments in which she and her partner fall in love through just living in each others lives in day to day scenarios.

EXAMPLES:

One look, dark room. Meant just for you. Time moved too fast. You play it back

Small talk, he drives. Coffee at midnight

Morning, his place. Burnt toast, Sunday. You keep his shirt. He keeps his word

You two are dancing in a snow globe, 'round and 'round

in the final scene of the karma music video we see that everything fades into the cup of coffee and ends up being served to her lover. this is symbolism in which I think means that her past with other partners seems to just fade away now that’s she’s with him because… SHES IN LOVE! HES IN LOVE! THEY ARE IN LOVE!

to receive a music video for this song specifically would mean so much to the 1989 era considering the fact that during this time Taylor was under scrutiny for her love life. we saw that depicted in blank space, a satire song she wrote based off what tabloids thought of her and her love life.

“You Are In Love” clearly talks about the softness in which her and her partner have in private. That while they may fight and argue, they talk it out nonetheless and make it work for them.

“He keeps his word

And for once, you let go

Of your fears and your ghosts

One step, not much

But it said enough

You kiss on sidewalks

You fight and you talk”

the whole point of “you are in love” is to express the highs and lows of a relationship outside of the opinions of everyone else, specifically the media.

“You can hear it in the silence

You can feel it on the way home

You can see it with the lights out”

in the lines above, it clearly has parallels to other Taylor songs in which she talks about fame and how it constantly follows her wherever she goes — an issue she has wanted to avoid when it comes to her love life. but in these lines it talks about when her and her partner are alone — just them by themselves together. they are in love and they can feel it even when no one is watching.

and where is no one watching?

in this scene where she brings him the coffee!!!! this is the dark room meant just for them! their shoulder brush as she sits down beside him! this is either his place or hers — THEIRS!

This was just a GLIMPSE of domesticity when it come to romantic love — but I’m assuming when we ✨hopefully ✨ get the mv we will see more of it! see the two of them just spending time together in a home, like in Lover mv!!!!

Now you’re probably thinking where does Joe Keery fit in all of this?! I HAVE ADHD AND I GOT OFF TOPIC IM SORRY!

we all know Taylor worked with Sadie for the atw 10 min version short film! in her actors on actors interview she discusses writing past Taylor in the film with Sadie in mind Bcs she saw her in stranger things and realized she wasn’t a romantic lead and would be perfect for the role! (Time stamp: 6:12)

knowing this information and that Taylor has definitely watching stranger things, could she possible be writing the “You Are In Love” music video with Joe Keery in mind?

Joe Keery hasn’t stared as a romantic lead in any movies / tv shows. in stranger things he only played Nancy’s love interest for 1 season before becoming the beloved babysitter we all know today. In Free Guy, while his character does crush on Jodie Comer, he isn’t necessarily the “romantic lead,” that part belongs to Ryan Reynolds. Then in Spree he plays a fucking murderer so yeah….

I’m thinking that Taylor really loved Joe’s performance in ST and possibly saw his other projects and wanted to see him in a larger role (romance wise). I personally think he would be perfect as a character in the “you are in love” music video or possibly short film!

Steve Harrington had a redemption arc but I don’t think we’ll be seeing him GRT back together w/ nance in s5 + the ending of Free Guy is left open so we really don’t know if his character and Jodie Comer’s stay together.

I know I’m probably sounding crazy or delusional but this is just a loosely based theory on what I see and know from the pics and Easter eggs! Taylor street style as of late has been giving 1989 and we all know how she also drop hints with clothing and what not so this is just a fun little thing I put together

this is just a theory so please don’t come at my neck….LOL! I know I sound delulu, but this is just all in fun and good nature as a fan of Taylor and Joe!

Let me know your thoughts and possible other Taylor and Joe collab theories! 🙈🫶🏽✨

[bluevelvetgvf]

gate & garden

jake kiszka x fem!reader (childhood best friends to lovers + potentially another trope....)

teaser

She never really knew when Jake came into her life, he was just always there.

Her first memory of him, was in kindergarten. At that point, she had already known him her entire life. All five years thus far, had been filled with Jake, and Josh of course. And Veronica, and baby Sam. It was all she’d ever known.

The three of them were sat at a small round table, tucked in the corner of the classroom. It was the first week of school, and the teacher was still getting comfortable with all of the students. Naturally, Jake and Josh never separated, and where they went, she never was far behind. Like she said, the twins were all she’d ever known.

By her parents request, she was placed in the same class as the twins.

They were three peas in a pod. They played together, shared lunches, and sat at the same table to do classwork. School was fun, definitely not more fun than playing in the creek behind her house, but it was still fun.

Today’s assignment was one of many the teacher had culminated to help herself and the students learn more about each other. They had drawn family portraits, and talked about their birthdays and favorite colors. But today’s assignment was a tough one. One that made each student reach deep inside their young brains, and think about their future.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

The teacher gave them time to think. She told them that it didn’t have to be realistic (then she told them that “realistic” meant “not pretend”.) And it didn’t have to come true.

She and Josh stared at each other from across the table. She didn’t know how she knew it was Josh, considering the twins looked exactly alike, but she always just knew. Neither of them had written anything down on their papers.

Then they both turned to Jake, who was laser-focused on his paper. Tongue poking out from behind his tiny teeth, a vice-grip on the green crayon in his hand, and he very carefully wrote, what he thought spelled out “rockstar”, but really was “roxstar”. The teacher later corrected him, but also commended him.

“What does that say?” Josh frowned, standing up from his chair to lean over his twin’s project.

Jake sighed, as if annoyed with his brother’s inquiry. “It says “rockstar”, Joshy, I just don’t know all the letters yet.”

She nodded, upon the explanation of Jake’s work. Jake loved music. Every time she was at the Kiszka’s, there was some type of music happening. Whether it be Papa K’s records, or him tuning his bass. Or the sound of baby Sam’s mobile, or Veronica’s karaoke machine, or Jake and Josh smashing away at their plastic drum kit.

“What did you write?” Jake turned fully to her, peeking at her paper.

Nervously, she pulled the blank paper away from his sight, folding it in her lap. “It’s a secret.”

Jake rolled his eyes, leaning further forward to try and pull the paper from her grasp. “Hey-“ She whined, inadvertently catching the attention of the teacher.

“Hands to ourselves please, Jacob.” She nodded, not scolding him, but giving him a gentle reminder. With her attention on them, Josh was quick to return to his seat.

“I think I’m gonna make movies.” Josh shrugged, using his red crayon to write some version of the word “movies” onto his paper.

“So, what are you gonna write?” Jake bugged again, watching as she sat with her paper in her lap. “You could be a rockstar too, you’re really good at the piano.”

She shrugged. She had been in piano lessons for a few months, and could already play Hot-Cross-Buns from memory, twice in a row.

“Plus, if you’re a rockstar, you can be in a band with me!” Jake smiled, his tongue poking at one of the loose teeth in the front of his mouth.

“You could be in my movies!” Josh grinned, finally looking up from his paper. “You could play whatever part you want, a princess, or a bad guy, or even a dog. Movies can make anything happen.”

She shrugged again. “I don’t know.”

Jake and Josh looked at each other, silently communicating. They weren’t seeing eye-to-eye with her, for the first time in their life. They couldn’t tell what the problem was.

She knew. She knew, that she didn’t know.

Maybe she did want to be in movies, especially if Josh would be there. And maybe she did want to make music with Jake, his dad was starting to teach him guitar, for real.

But maybe she didn’t. Maybe she didn’t want to do those things. Maybe she wanted to be a teacher, or a nurse, or a dancer. She was really good at dance. Or a painter, or drive cars, who knows? “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Is a really unfair and hard question to ask a five-year old.

Ignoring the stares of her best friends, she placed her paper back on the table, covering it from their view, and she wrote down her answer. And when she was finished, she folded it up, just like the teacher had said to, and without a word, got up from her chair, and took it to her.

“Don’t let anyone see it, okay?” She commanded the teacher, pressing her finger to her lips to shush her. The teacher nodded, holding tightly to the paper.

She returned to her seat. “So what did you write?” Josh asked, frowning.

“Yeah, why won’t you tell us?” Jake also whined, his expression mirroring his twin’s. “Keeping secrets isn’t nice!”

She sighed, pulling her chair in closer to the table. “It won’t be a secret forever Jakey.” She placed her crayons back in the bin in the middle of their table.

“What does that even mean?” Jake scoffed dramatically, angrily folding his paper up. “I don’t know why you can’t just share.”

Josh neatly folded his paper, holding his hand out for his twin’s. Jake handed his brother his paper. “Not all secrets are bad Jakey. Sometimes they can be fun, like remember when Mama was having baby Sam?”

Jake rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, Sam was fun for like one day, and then he started crying, and he never stopped.” Josh nodded at his twin’s response, maneauvering around his chair and going to hand their papers to the teacher.

Jake huffed. “Just tell me, please? I won’t tell Josh.” His hand reached out to tug at her’s, his brown eyes wide with curiosity.

She contemplated, for a second. But shook her head. “I told you Jakey, you’ll find out one day, okay? Not today.” She released her hand from his grasp, leaning across the table to clean up the crayons he and Josh used.

“That’s not fair!” Jake groaned again, throwing his head back towards the ceiling.

She ignored his fit, being used to both Jake and Josh’s tempers by now, she knew he would eventually forget why he was ever mad.

Which was true. Jake refused to share his lunch with them that day, and also sat by himself with the chalk at recess, but as soon as they returned to the classroom that afternoon, the three of them were practicing their handwriting together as if nothing was wrong.

When the day was over, Jake and Josh’s mom picked them up. She said hi to Veronica, and baby Sam, and waited for Mom to get her.

The ride home was nice. Mom let her ride with the windows down, and it was still warm, so that meant she could play in the creek when she went home.

Mom helped her with her homework, and they had sandwiches for dinner, and like clockwork, the sound of two fists banging on the door.

She ran across the house, now changed from her school clothes, into a more comfy outfit. Her socks made her slide across the floor a bit as she flung open the door, revealing Jake, Josh, and Veronica. “Hey guys.” She grinned, a bit out of breath from her sprint.

“Hey, we brought Ronnie with us, if that’s okay.” Jake smiled, stepping aside to fully reveal his little sister, who frowned at the nickname.

“Mama said it was okay.” Josh nudged his brother.

“Don’t call me Ronnie!” Veronica whined. “Don’t like that!”

Jake ignored his sister, waiting for an answer. “Sure, Veronica can come.” She turned, tugging on her shoes. “We’re going down to the creek, ‘kay Momma?” She called through the house.

“Just be back before dark, alright?” Mom called back.

“Okay! We’ll be careful!” She responded, practically tripping out the door as the four of them began their trek to the tree-line.

She and Jake walked ahead of Josh and Veronica. Josh liked to take his time, and make sure Veronica could keep up. Jake was just ready to play.

“You know, you shouldn’t make fun of your sister Jakey.” She frowned, looking over at him. “She doesn’t like being called Ronnie.”

Jake shrugged, kicking his foot at a particularly dry leaf. “She’ll get used to it. Ronnie’s so much easier to say than Veronica anyway.”

“That’s not nice, Jakey.” She pried, trying to prove her point.

“It’s not a big deal.” He brushed her off. “You want a nickname too?”

“No thank you!” She scoffed, nudging him away with her arm. “I like my name just the way it is!”

“I’ll find you a nickname.”  Jake looked at her, raising his eyebrows. “Pinky-promise.”

She shook her head, trying to fight the urge to smack him as the creek came into view. Jake took off like a rocket, kicking off his socks and sneakers and splashing into the water. “C’mon Jakey, you’re gonna scare all the minnows!” She cried out in frustration, carefully removing her shoes.

Josh and Ronnie appeared from behind them, both looking as equally disappointed with their brother. “He always does this!” Josh sighed, bending down to help Ronnie remove her shoes.

“What’s he doing?” Ronnie asked, her hands placed on her brother’s shoulders for stability.

“He’s scaring the fish.” She replied, waiting for Ronnie and Josh to be shoe-less too.

“What!” Ronnie whined, mouth agape with shock. “Jakey, why’re you doing that? I wanna see the fish too!” She cried, holding onto Josh’s hand as they approached the creek.

Jake ignored them, and continued his splashing venture, picking up rocks and looking for creatures. And sure enough, scaring away any sign of fish for miles to come.

The four of them played in the water, and the surrounding forestry, until the sun began to set. Then, shoes in-hand, they walked back through the soft grass, towards their homes.

“See you tomorrow?” Jake asked, his voice hopeful, although they all knew, they’d be seeing each other tomorrow. And every day after that, for as long as they were alive.

“Duh.” She replied, face upturning in a goofy grin.

She watched from the steps as Jake, Josh, and Ronnie went home, leaving their shoes out on their porch. And when they were finally in their house, she went inside, ready for bed, and the promise of a new day full of adventures with her best friends.

[2lim3rz]

BLANK SLATE BEGINNINGS (40K FIC THING) (OC X HORUS LUPERCAL)

Tomfoolery in the dms happened so have a Sibley x Horus fic because I yearn for big men and small women

There were no words at the time to describe whatever Sibley was. No words except the most scandalous type; cursed.

Given that religion and beliefs of the sort were more or less outlawed, it was the worst sort of insult.

But Sibley was used to it. She was by no conventional means beautiful, perhaps she had a possibility, but it had long passed. Her face and most of her body was torn asunder with poorly healed burns, her nose was bent from an equally daunting gouge in the middle, and several smaller scars speckled her body like gruesome freckles. Her eyes weren't even similar; one brown and one green. The only thing she bothered with was the bleached stripe of blonde hair in her otherwise half-shaved head.

So it was by raw miracle surely, that she ended up serving as one of the many untold underlings in the gilded halls of the Emperor himself. She never was going to question how she had ever gotten there. Never. Her focus was better placed upon her job. Better placed upon ignoring how people refused to work near her.

She was used to the treatment. For as long as she remembered, none enjoyed her presence. From where she knelt at an open floor panel, she stroked the oddly smooth texture of her quartered face. Smearing some oil from the coolant lines upon it. An absent habit of a absent mind.

Sighing, Sibley replaced her screwdriver and lifted a wrench. She needed to get this done. While it wasn't the most well-travelled of halls, it was certainly enough to warrant some form of rush. If only to avoid the terrifying golden soldiers.

Of course, given Sibley's track record of any form of luck.. her work was interrupted by footsteps. Heavy enough she assumed at first that it was one of the Custodians but.. somehow it wasn't. It didn't have the same drumming rhythm that their great marching steps had. It was measured yet still sith enough of a pause to have her do a doubletake over her shoulder.

It was a massive man treading down the halls. Upon him was a long ornate billowing crimson cloak belted to him with a massive orange eye that seemed ever staring. Under that was a shirt of chainmail softly jingling with each gargantuan step. His belt was the whitest color she had ever seen, corners gilded in gold with another one of those massive eyes. At his side was a sword that no human thing but him could wield, his right hand encased in a white and gold gauntlet. The left bore a simple wristband.

Another jingling noise alerted her to a series of coins upon his belt, he was too far for her to see what was upon them. Yet part of her thought the.. almost loincloth-esque structuring of leather looked absurd with the puffed out dark grey pants and the furred boots. Not that.. she judged it too much. Even if she self-consciously pulled her own sleeves down and hiked the collar of her uniform up.

She forced herself to look away. To bury herself in her work and away from the impressive man. Perhaps feeling it a touch odd that she didn't feel the rumored effects some of the more out-there workers whispered about when dealing with the massive men. Other than it was uncanny how well.. big they were.. and until this moment she hadn't realized how handsome. Even if it was a brief glimpse-

"Pardon me, I nearly stepped on you there." A warm yet deep and sonorous voice spoke. A shiver rushed down her spine just as much as confusion made her tremble. Why was he speaking to her? No one spoke to her unless they were forced to. Even before her scars it had been like that. So when she looked up to see a kindly (if not overly handsome) face, she couldn't figure out if she was blushing or paling.

"Gh- It's fine." Her voice was more tense, more rude than what she meant it to be. Yet it was unheard of for apologies to be directed to her. She felt as if she wanted to knock herself over with the wrench in her hand. She was more than certainty blushing now. Staring up at his face like she was. Seeing their true differences. A jaw lightly coated in dark stubble cracked into a grin. It was hard to decide if she wanted to look away or stare into those dark eyes of his. Was his head really as smooth as it looked from down where she was?

"If I didn't know any better, I'd have assumed you weren't good around people." His voice, smooth as gold, was a shattering force to her bewildered mind. Forcing herself to look away, she floundered for a moment at her predicament. She was being disrespectful. She should be in trouble. Not.. having someone speak to her so casually. It was horribly uncanny having someone speak to her as one spoke to a friend.

"'M not." She whispered grumpily to herself. Whipping her head upwards again as he chuckled. How did he hear her?!

"Is that why you're working in this hall?" He mused. That gentle smile still upon his face. It left her more.. just more conflicted. He was certainly shattering a personal record of people willing to be around her asides from whatever thing decided to make sure she lived childhood. Gripping the wrench tightly in one hand, Sibley gave a vague sweeping gesture of her hand.

"...No one likes working this hall. Floor panels get stuck. Not enough malfunctions or priority to justify two man teams." No one appreciated working alone most times. Not in such grandiose halls. Not where one mistake would have the techies breathing on your neck faster than you could say 'frag off'. Not only did you have to work fast, you had to be meticulous.

"Ah, I see. So you are using your job to hide from everyone else?" The man tilted his head down at her before abruptly kneeling down. Bending over to look into the large open panel "You should possibly tighten that bolt on the secondary."

Sibley sputtered for a moment. Suddenly uncomfortable by the proximity of the man. People only got that close when they were crammed in a small room. Her eyebrow twitched as she gawked before huffing and doing as he suggested. Surprisingly, it was actually loose. And it prevented a later malfunction to occur.

"I could say the same about you, you know." Hesitantly, she spoke up. Not daring to eye the man in fear of repercussion. Wincing at the chuckle he gave to her remark. She expected punishment.. not.. this. "How did you have me figured out?" The question was unexpected as she looked up at him once more. Staring up at him even though he had bowed so low. Completely engulfing her entire view.

"..No reasonable person in rich clothes like that walks in the deeper halls. N-Not that they're not allowed to! They just.. don't." she found herself awkwardly sputtering towards the end. Shifting the wrench closer to her so she could hold it in both hands with a frown. Watching the curious expression on the man's face as he hummed low.

"So I've been caught red handed. You're not going to turn me in, are you?" the question confused her as he told it in a lively way. Was he serious? Was this a joke? "..No?" The curious sparkle in his eyes never went away as he rested one arm upon his raised knee. "Don't you know who I am?" the question was out of the blue. Of course she didn't. If she watched the charts for who was entering and who was leaving, she'd be out of work for hours. Never mind wasting precious sleeping (sewing her several-times-mended clothing) time to watch the news. Slowly shrugging, Sibley despised the feeling of being in a spotlight. She just wanted the handsome man to go along on his merry way and so she can waste the rest of her day like usual.

Though those thoughts paused at the genuine surprise that appeared on his face. Tilting his head back in laughter and shaking it. His shoulders trembling before he resumed grinning down at her. "You have to be pulling my leg. You work in the Emperor's castle and yet don't know me?" The incredulous tone made Sibley's skin tingle all over as she stuck out her lips in a pout. Glaring at him with no heart in it as embarrassment chewed at her. Last thing she needed was an uppity noble laughing at her.

"No. Too busy to. I need to get back to work before I get in trouble anyways." Sibley gritted out. She should have known she'd get mocked in the end. If it wasn't from being avoided like she was some plague-pest, it'd be insults because of her face or the subtle (or more than) limp she'd gain on bad days.

"My apologies," she stopped moving at those words as she was stunned to silence "It's just that lately I haven't encountered anyone else on Terra that didn't know me." How was she meant to respond to that? Relaxing the death-grip she had. Sibley realized how tense she was until that moment. Having enough will to resist raising the wrench in the name of self defense as the man extended a hand.

Looking from hand to oddly friendly face; blinking slowly as she did. She waited another awkward moment as he spoke. "Then let me introduce myself, ma'am. I am Horus Lupercal, Lord of the Luna Wolves." vaguely some of it rang a bell in her mind. Though she still stared at his hand.. Ever so reluctantly letting go of the wrench to shake his. Still somehow surprised that he was warmer than the average human was or that his callused hand wrapped hers with complete gentleness. "Sibley.. of nothing." She threw the flair in perhaps a little dramatically. Even if the man.. even if Horus's kindly face shifted the handshake to hold her hand by the fingers. Raising it (and lowering himself further) to lightly brush his lips across her skin. Briefly her thoughts ruefully drifted to horror that he'd even bring himself closer to her ruined flesh.

"It was fun to meet you, Sibley; Lady of the floor panels. I unfortunately have to return to my duties." Horus's voice was lower. Grinning mischievously with a wink and letting go; with clear reluctance, stood. Leaving her to stare in bewilderment and with a hot blush on her face. "..Uh.. I too. I mean- You too!" Why did this Horus fluster her so much? Was it the fact that he was the first man to show just the barest of friendliness to her?

Her wonderings stopped as Horus walked away and looked over his shoulder a final time. "I hope you meet you again. That one wire is about to come loose as well." he called back. Sibley looked down, checked, and noticed he was right again.

Belatedly, she realized he never recoiled from touching her. Nor did he seem to get grumpy at her for any reason. Resuming her work with a sigh, Sibley begrudgingly thought of how she shouldn't had cowed herself so much into distrust.. even if the scars upon her itched and her legs ached. No, perhaps distrust was more of her safety net. After all, it was slim to none that she'd ever encounter him again.

[lo-cinno]

Bday gift for @callilouv (derogatory)

You had received a cordial invite in the mail today. Well, I suppose it would depend what exactly you would consider cordial when this was what you received:

The meaning behind the words written and its sender were certainly clear. Yet, this was certainly a rare sight. For him to reach out to you first rather than the usual other way around, you could only wonder what exactly he was planning with this. Though, you couldn’t deny the beating excitement in your chest as you got lost in your thoughts.

You had read it over and over; staring at his name that was signed in the corner. He didn’t really specify a time. You wondered if you should just head on over there right now? Would it be too soon? You really wanted to see him after all…

Fuck it. You basically shot up and got ready in record time, rushing out the door as if your life depended on it.

When you arrived at Corvid’s Roost, the tavern was quite empty given how early it was still. You walked up to the bartender who looked at you. You then slowly realized something a little too late. You forgot to bring the invite. Shit.

Luckily for you, it seems they recognized you. They gestured for you to take a seat and wait. Did he expect this? He probably, no, definitely did.

The bartender then disappeared to somewhere further within the tavern as you fidgeted impatiently in your seat. Your mind was blank, yet also rushing with a million thoughts of what he could possibly have planned for you.

A while later, the bartender returned with what seemed to be a key in their hands. They handed it over to you, giving you instructions on where to go before returning to resume their work.

You tried your best to follow along the instructions, walking further into the tavern in hopes you don’t get lost somehow.

You arrived in front one of the rooms deep inside the tavern that seemed to be separated from the others. Was it his room? No point guessing. Better to head it and find out you supposed.

Opening the door with the key you were given, it unlocked easily with a click. You took a deep breath, and opened the door not knowing what to expect.

The room was dark. You couldn’t exactly make out anything in there. Yet, you headed on inside with slow footsteps.

The door closed behind you with another click, leaving you standing alone in the dark. What does one do in this situation usually..?

Well, you didn’t get much time to think as you felt something snake around your waist. You flinched, but then felt a breath by your ear, making you shudder and freeze in place.

“Relax, my lamb.”

You heard a familiar voice whisper by your ear that sounded like the one you were looking for. Shock ran through your body as you called out his name in surprise. Wait. Did he just call you his?!!

“Who else would be here in my room?”

He huffed out at the call of his name as you felt a weight rest on top of your head. You simply stood there, not quite sure what to do, until he spoke again.

“I had a feeling you might rush on over here as soon as I left that letter, though I must admit I didn’t expect you to be quite this fast. Were you really that eager to see me?”

“Well, no matter. You showed up like I expected you to. That’s good enough.”

Releasing his hold on you, he turned on the lights, stood back up and walked towards the door. You thought he was going to leave already, but he simply retrieved the key you left at the door after unlocking it.

“I was thinking on it a bit, but as bad as a decision this might be, I’ve decided to let you make a wish for this day you consider special instead.”

He says, walking back to you with the keys in his hand. He then took your hand, and placed the keys in your palm.

“Of course, I’ll be the one granting it. As long as you don’t think of anything too absurd.”

“You can keep these keys as a gift as well. I’m not in this room often anyways. You’re free to come and leave. Just don’t expect to find me here.”

He closed your hand around the keys, and flipped it around, bringing the back of your hand to his lips.

“Happy Birthday, Cal.”

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Concept: Aemond and Aegon are criminals and you are a journalist looking for your lost sister, Dyana. It becomes a lot.

Mentions of overdoses sex powerplay power abuse and modern kingslanding setting and gore. Mafia/criminal romance and of course Non con but idk how much of that will apply yet.

This is a work of fiction and does not display actual criminal law or how criminals work or function. It is all made up.

CriminalAemond and later criminalAegon x OC

Word count:???2k

The smells of cigarettes fill the air. You lick your lips. They are dry. Your eyes slowly adjust to the dark. A single light bulb dances around your head, briefly blinding you. You have no idea where you are. Or what happened. You remember looking for Dyana. You remember going to the docks in the dangerous part of town. You also vaguely remember a green car following you...

Your thoughts are interrupted by someone grabbing your chin. ‘’Someone finally woke up from her beauty sleep.’’ You assume he is the one who put your here. There is a deep rough edge to his voice, reminding you of a blade. The lights are turned on.

You sit in an office chair. Your hands and legs are tied with chains. The chains have spots of red. Dried blood.

You can hardly call what you are in an office. It seems to be a funky weird laboratory. You see a desk with one of the most expensive and newest pcs. Your boyfriend, Dys, talked about wanting one before you two broke up.

You look up, to the ceiling and scream. From the ceiling dangle bodies bound with chains. They are cut by their hands and feet only. They bled out. Buckets collect the blood. Another body lies on the desk where a knife and a chainsaw kind of tells you what happens to them.

You are strapped to a dental chair and start to panic as your captor sits on a chair right beside you. He has a knife causally in his mouth with the edge poking in your direction. His silver hair shines when the light catches it.

You have found them.

The Targaryens. You assume they are behind your sister's disappearance. Now for the million dollar question: How the hell will you avoid ending up like those people above your head?

The Targaryen asshole shoots you a bright smile when you are done staring at the bodies. He removes the knife from his mouth. ‘I take it you know who I am?’’ He leans in a bit closer. That is when you see the huge scar under his left eye and the eyepatch. You heard rumours. You always assumed they were bullshit, the way that criminals bragged and boasted. But you see now. The rumour is as real as you are.

This is Aegon's problem solver. He tortures people, and you realise that the bodies are his handiwork up close. He is simply known as One-Eye or the Kinslayer, but his records say he is named Aemond. He had his own nephew killed and when he was done, brought the skull to his sister's territory, and blew it up. The blood was said to have scattered everywhere. The body parts are still being found across the cities.

A few months ago, a man who supported the same campaign as your father disappeared. Someone nailed his dead body to a statue in the middle of Kings Landing. You assume that that was Aemond's idea. The rest of his body parts were sent to other members following the campaign of Lyman Beesbury. You got a finger in the mail with a threatening letter from the Greens.

You try not to let your knowledge of his crimes affect you. You are a journalist. You make your face blank as a paper sheet. ‘’A Targaryen. You all bleach your hair to be as white as a chicken bone.’’ He finds that description funny.

‘’Guilty.’’ He blows his breath in your face before slowly placing the knife against your throat. The metal is cold and hard. You try not to gulp or to swallow.

He continues. ‘’Aegon does not like spies. He asked me to find out everything there is to know about you.’’ That can be a problem. Your parentage is an issue. Your father is helping future president Lyman Beesbury with his campaign. You doubt Aemond knows this, however. You aren't as scandalous as your sisters. You keep a low profile.

You pretend to be an innocent girl who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. An innocent soul. ‘’There is nothing to know. I got lost.’’ You say innocently. "I didn't realise that you guys own this part of the city."

Aemond smiles, but you can see that he does not buy your bullshit. "You got lost when entering a locked ship and also breaking one of our windows?" You curse in your head but not out loud. Come on, Doroda, you think. Creative writing was your favourite subject. A good story might convince him to spare your life.

The only reason you got involved with Dys was because of his drug dealing. You hoped he would lead you to the Targaryens. ‘’I was looking for my boyfriend. Perhaps you know him? Cheating scumbag, aged 24 and oh, rumoured to be working together with your gangster buddies?’’

He has become far less open, and you can see him be on his guard. You know that if you tell Dys's name, he'll be in trouble. ‘’Who’s your boy?’’ That is none of his business.

You smile coy as a fox.

‘’Why don’t we make it a fair trade? I want some information as well.’’ You say, ignoring the knife on your throat. Aemonds brows frown with displeasure.

He lets out a scoffing chuckle.

‘’You’re lucky I’m not cutting out your tongue right now. You are in no position to bargain.’’

You chuckle and give him your most seductive smile. ‘’That would make me tell you what I know so difficult.’’ Aemond's smile vanishes, and he gets a devilish smirk on his thin lips. He leans in closely and keeps the knife against your throat. You hope that wasn't pushing your luck.

You feel fear and curse yourself for thinking that he would even be that weak. This is his job, and he clearly he takes it quite seriously. He tsks. You feel something unhealthy happens when he slowly pulls down the sleeves of your sweater."I see someone's a little used to getting what she wants. Perhaps I should teach you a lesson." He grins.

You lose your patience and give into fear. ‘’Fine. Here’s the deal, you white-haired scumbag. I lost my sister a few months back. Her name’s Dyana. She was rumoured to be-’’ He interrupts you by chuckling as if he and her go way back.

‘’Oh that Dyana.’’ He says with a cheeky boyish smirk that gives you the creeps. Is he messing with you, or did they meet?

You heard rumours. You always hoped they weren't true. That your sister had a wild life full of sex and drugs and drugsdealers fit right into that image.

‘’You know her?’’ Your voice sounds worried.

‘’Our paths have crossed, yes.’’ He takes a deep breath before telling you. You know he is not doing it because it's the right thing. He is doing it to hurt and to manipulate you. To throw you off track and to break you. ‘’Certain girls, it’s quite sad. We refer to them here as candycanes. They do anything for a little bit of cocaine. Dy loved her crack…’’ You do not let him finish before lashing out in blind anger and rage.

That is borderline rape and he will pay for that. ‘’You asshole!"

He sighs.

‘’I am afraid you got the wrong criminal. I prefer them untouched, not fucked by everyone I work with.’’ He says dryly.

You feel the hope slowly die.

"And the other guys? Is there anyone who might have taken her?"

He sits back and thinks. He shrugs. "I think it's more likely she got her nose filled with coke and kept sniffing until she died. It happens. We had nothing to with it." He thinks she overdosed. He already assumes she is dead.

"No! I refuse to believe that!"

He grabs your throat. "You will watch your mouth around me, Princess. I am sick of your little attitude, and unless you like me to teach you a thing or two about how it works here, you'll shut the hell up unless spoken to!" You scoff.

You glare at him. He removes the dagger from your throat, and you are shocked as he gives you a soft kiss on your head. You panic and start to pull the chains around you, hoping to break free.

You see that animal grin at you from across the room as he takes out one of the newest smartphones out of his pocket and calls someone. "I am calling my brother. Be a good little pet and be quiet." He says.

You scoff. Like hell you will. He lowers his phone to his chest before grabbing your throat. You are not choked, but it is meant as punishment. "I will make sure you regret it if you do not let me make this call, little brat."

"I know you wouldn't risk calling someone with me present. You are calling someone who knows." You smugly reply. He growls in pure anger before picking up his phone again.

"Aegon, my brother. I got a bit of a problem here." He speaks, and you are surprised with how different he sounds when speaking to his brother.

You meanwhile try your best to find the exit of the room. You are still tied to a chair but you can observe. Aemond ends his phone call very early. You nearly jump out of your chair when he pops up behind you silently. "I'm taking you with me to my brother. We'll dicuss your fate." You sit tight until he has you untied.

When he forces you to stand, you kick him right between his legs. He grunts out in pain before chasing after you. "Get here, you fucking brat!"

You take a bucket of the collected blood and throw it in his direction splatting his leather jacket and white brand sneakers with red. That makes him even more angry but the blood does slow him down a bit.

Two other arms that are defiantly not his, unless he is also an octopus, grab your arms and hold you against their chest.

Aemond chuckles as you still try to break free. He approaches slowly as if he's a killer in a slasher movie from the 90s.

He is delighted by all of this. "Cole. Thanks." You glare at Dorne's most wanted criminal. The Cole guy smirks at Aemond, who is covered in blood. "No problem, Boss."

Aemond takes you from him. He lightly smacks you across your face. 'You'll be properly dealt with for kicking me later. I do not want to hurt that pretty face of yours before we've seen my brother."

----

Aegon's office is actually on the highest level of the building. There are expensive paintings on his wall by artists you vaguely recongize. Most of the paintings are about ancient Rome. You also see a photograph of the battle of Normandy. You wonder how he got hold of that. He must be a history buff.

You are dragged into Aegon's office, which is guarded by two men with each an impressively deadly gun. You know they can and will shoot you on the spot.

Aegon is older but much shorter than his brother. Aemond throws you on the ground for his brother's desk and barks at you to sit on your knees. You obey with an annoyed groan. "Aemond, what have I told you about entering my office when you have worked? I do not want blood on my furniture." He says as matter of greeting.

Aemond scowls. "I want to keep this one." He says referring to you. "She has caused trouble, and we should keep an eye on her. She wants to find her sister."

His brother does not care. "Can't we just kill her?" That would be the logical thing to do.

"I would advise against that." An older man enters with a smirk. You recognise him for wanted advisements. Otto Hightower.

Aemond greets him with a handshake when Aegon is greeted by a respectful nod. "Grandfather. We thought you were still in Essos." The boss says.

"Essos was...eventful. Let's just say the plan has been set in motion." They wisely shut up about their plan with you present. The man looks at you, and you look back unbothered. You do not expect help from him.

"Aemond, you did good, capturing this girl." He says.

Aemond snorts. "Obviously. We can't have rats roaming around our territory. That's bad for the business and our clients." He says and gives you a spiteful grin. You roll your eyes.

"You haven't figured it out yet?" His grandfather asked. "You both should have been informed by now. Only old people watch the news, I suppose." He chuckles.

"Lyman Beesbury got shot in his face. One of our guys saw him chewing a big fat hamburger and took his chance. I'll send you the photos of his face. It is quite the pretty sight." He says sickingly. You nearly gag.

"There is no way he'll survive this. He'll die." You are disgusted that they can exchange photos of their victims like it are memes. You are disgusted that they gloat about their killings and celebrate the end of their enemies. "Cole barely escaped with his life. He is all good now but has to lay low for a while. They are looking for him."

"Let them try, I own the pathetic Goldcloaks. They won't do shit unless I command them so." Aegon snickers darkly.

"Lyman's party has selected a vice president for the Council. And this is where she comes in." He points at you dramatically. You feel dread fill your stomach. You begged your father not to take this position. But you just know he said yes. Behind your back. Without you knowing. He said yes. He put a target on your back. "Jon Waters is our president." Which makes you first daughter and a valuable target. Shit.

There is a silence before Aemond grabs your hands. You fuss briefly but he silences you. Otto continues. "When Beesbury hated drugs, your father is actually a very big supporter." You feel your world shatter.

"What? That's not possible. He supported Beesbury. He hated drugs. He told us to stay away from you." You stutter as the truth begins to fall in places.

They call Otto the hand because he arranges everything in Aegons organisation. "Your father was a big supporter of the saying: Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer." The spare rooms... the expensive weird trips...it all makes sense. How Dy got her hands on drugs time and time again...

"What are you saying, Otto?"

"Your father is like us. A killer. A liar. A despicable human being." He is like them.

You feel the air leave your lungs. You stumble on your feet. Aemond catches you before you can fall. "And to make this even better, your father owns us a blooddebt." He tells you excitedly.

"What the fuck is a blooddebt?" You whimper as black spots cloud your vision. Aemond chuckles. "It's an house Targaryen tradition. It means he owns us a life. Any life we find valuable will do. We can claim anyone from his organisation. Including you, little princess." You tremble.

He leans in closer and whispers in your ear. "You'll be mine, little brat."

"No! You can't claim me! I am not part of my father's crimes! I am a human being. This is illegal." You are slowly panicking and notice tears stinging as well. This was a mistake.

"She said in front of the killers and the drugsdealers." Otto should really watch his mouth, or you'll end up slapping him across his face.

You realise that you made the biggest mistake of your life. You slowly tear up and try to keep from crying. Aemond grabs your waist. He kisses your forhead. You hear him mutter in your ear. "I hope you keep up being fun after I've broken you completely. Pets like yourself get so boring once your spirit and will are ripped from your body."

/////

Me: What will we do. I think we will finish the new stories.

My brain: we'll make a new one

Me: with a cute aemond?

My brain:

Me: With a cute aemond?!

Brain: he kindaaa is

Me: OK.

Brain: and he's covered in blood

Me:

I fear you're never gonna get fluff from me sorry.

Modern aus are a thing as I am definitely not good at them but if you like to read more let me know.

[atripthroughthestars]

Meaning Of Words

Jing Yuan X Belladonna (OC)

Warnings -> Fluff

Should anyone walk into the Seat of Divine Foresight looking for General Jing Yuan, they wouldn’t find him. Instead, they would find his right-hand when it came to work in the shadows sitting in his chair, hunched over his desk with a pen in one hand and the other holding the pages of a book open. Her finger traced the letters on the page before her pen replicated the word on a blank sheet of paper. It had taken a little while for her wrist and fingers to figure out how to make their movements with the ink flow, but it was slowly getting easier and her printing was starting to look much neater.

As for what she was writing, Belladonna hadn’t the slightest idea. Teaching herself how to write was one thing. Teaching herself to read was another. This newfound writing ability would only take her so far until she was able to piece words and sentences on paper together.

“General- You’re not General Jing Yuan.” A somewhat hostile voice broke the silence.

Bella lifted her gaze to glare at Fu Xuan. “Do I look like an old man to you?”

The diviner’s hologram huffed and crossed her arms. “Where is he?”

“No idea. Cast a divination and figure it out.”

Saying Bella and Fu Xuan didn’t get along was an understatement. When it came to work both woman were more then capable of putting their squabbles aside, but outside of that, it was hopeless. Fu Xuan never trusted Bella; why would she ever trust a criminal? Especially one she couldn’t cast a divination on for a reason no one in the Xianzhou seemed to know. As for Bella, the idea of someone digging into another’s personal secrets was an invasion of privacy and unethical. Not that she had much room to talk about ethics.

“It doesn’t work that way.” Fu Xuan’s frown deepened. “I’ve advised him numerous times not to leave you unattended in his office. He is asking for information to be leaked. What are you even up to?”

“Passing time.” Dropping the pen, Bella straightened up and massaged her sore wrist. “Jing Yuan isn’t here. You’re free to go.”

With one final huff, the hologram vanished. While any of his other subordinates would have taken a message from the master diviner to pass along, Bella knew better then to expect anyone to relay sensitive information to her. The only one who didn’t seem to think twice or use caution when speaking to her was the general himself. The next time she saw Jing Yuan, she’ll let him know Diviner Fu came to see him and that would be the end of it.

Bella’s fingers were still cramping from the pen, so instead of picking it up again, she pulled the book closer and tried to study the words written on the left page. On the right page was a beautiful illustration of what she assumed was taking place in the current chapter of this children’s story she bought on a whim. From the sketches alone, Bella could infer the story was about a small, hairy black and white creature and its journey to find a new home after its previous one was destroyed in a flood.

For the first time in a long time, Bella felt pathetic. What she held in her hands was something a child could make sense of with ease, but to her eyes, the letters written in black ink were nothing but meaningless squiggles on parchment. The only way to communicate she knew was through words; the life she previously lived had little use for written communication. In fact, the less something was documented, the easier it would be to hide the trail. The problem now was that in this environment, everything was recorded.

Bella stared at the text until her vision blurred and crossed. Pushing the book away, she closed her eyes, leaned back into the chair and pinched the bridge of her nose. A second later she heard the grand doors open and a set of languid footsteps followed.

“Yanqing said I would find you in here.” Even as the man walked around the desk and stopped behind her chair, she didn’t react. “Our little secret has him jumping to conclusions again.”

Bella dropped her hand from her face and reached for the book again. “Seems like you need to train him better, General.”

Was everyone forgetting ‘Belladonna’ was one of the biggest names in the crime ring? She’d never be so sloppy as to copy documents that could be damning to the Cloud Knights in the middle of the office.

With a chuckle, Jing Yuan placed his hands on her shoulders and dipped down to kiss her cheek in greeting. “Your penmanship has improved.”

“And yet I still understand nothing.” Bella hadn’t meant to let the comment slip, but something about this man always made her jaw loosen.

“If you would like my help-”

“I don’t need it.”

She shot his offer down with a quickness he anticipated. To others, Bella was impossible to read. Her stone expressions and cold exterior frequently left everyone who came into contact with her on edge. To Jing Yuan, she was by far the easiest person he’s ever been able to piece together. Whenever she was offered help, she refused. She did so because in her world, receiving help of any kind was a loan. Every thing she did, she did because it was how she learned to survive. Nothing more, nothing less.

“My dear,” Jing Yuan started, gently taking the book from her hands and setting it on the surface of the desk once more. “For a favour this small, there is nothing I could ask of you.”

Bella met his gaze, her dark eyes showing a hesitation she hid from others. Just when he thought she would give in and accept his offer, her usual stoic mask was back in place. She closed the story book and stood up. “Diviner Fu was here asking for you. You should get in touch with her.”

That was all she said before heading down the steps and towards the doors. Jing Yuan sighed as they closed behind her and turned his gaze to the desk. The surface was covered in Bella’s hard work. He could see her frustration in the way some of the letters were written and the crinkles in the parchment. If she is so determined to do this on her own, then he won’t interfere.

What he will do, however, is give her the resources to do so.

~~~~~~~~~~

Settling beneath the shade of a tree in the courtyard, Bella leaned back against the trunk and opened the same children’s book she was studying the other day. As soon as the hard covers came apart, a loose page fell and glided through the air until it landed in her lap. Eyebrows pinching together, she picked up the paper and examined it. The parchment was the same type Jing Yuan used whenever he had to write something down, so there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that it came from his office.

The strange thing was, the way he wrote wasn’t like anything she had seen from him before. The words were chopped up in various segments and doodles were bracketed between the words in odd parts of the sentences.

Th-uh s-un (☀️) w-as sh-ine-ing do-wn (⬇️) on th-uh lit-tle pan-duh k-ub.

Th-uh s-un (☀️) w-as war-um bu-t th-uh pan-duh k-ub w-as s-ad be-ca-uz th-uh he-av-y ra-ine (💧) wa-shh-ed a-way h-is h-ome (🏠).

Bella blinked at the paper and tried once more to make sense of it. The doodles must be relevant to the words they were drawn beside, and if that was the case, ‘s-un’ must mean ‘sun’, ‘ra-ine’ must mean ‘rain’, and ‘h-ome’ must mean ‘home’.

She caught herself mouthing those words, and something in her mind clicked into place. Jing Yuan had translated part of the story by breaking the words up into segments on how it was to be pronounced. So long as she could decipher the pronunciation of each word, she would know what the word meant. Reading and writing were new to her but verbal communication certainly wasn’t.

Bella wanted to be mad, oh how badly she wanted her blood to boil and give the adrenaline needed to storm right into the Seat of Divine Foresight and give the general a piece of her mind. She said she didn’t want his help, and he helped her anyway.

She turned him away, and yet, he still took time to guide her in the right direction.

Warmth flooded her chest, the emotion still so new to her after centuries of being alone. Part of her still didn’t like the way this strange act of kindness made her stomach fill with butterflies, but even more strangely, she felt… motivated. She’ll deal with Jing Yuan and his meddling ways later, but for now, she was going to take advantage of the peace within the courtyard to study.

[bopinion]

2023 / 06

Aperçu of the Week:

"We wanted the best, but it came as usual."

(Viktor Chernomyrdin, former Russian prime minister, in 1993)

Bad News of the Week:

The image of the "People's Democratic Republic" of North Korea is often described as Stone Age communism. While the majority of the population suffers from extreme poverty and, in some cases, famine, Kim Yong Un stages himself as a monarch and operates a strange cult of nuclear weapons and long-range missiles, which he sees as life insurance for his own despotic regime. All of this is done under the eyes of China, a protective power that is difficult to understand, and in distinction from the economically successful brother nation of South Korea.

For a long time, North Korea existed like a country on another planet. Hardly any information penetrated to the outside or the inside, the communicative isolation seemed perfect, the media control total. This still works internally, but in recent months it is the World Wide Web, of all places, on whose map the country is no longer a blank spot. On the one hand, North Korea operates extremely successful hacker cohorts who, in addition to various espionage and disinformation campaigns, also managed to collect at least $1.2 billion in cryptocurrency through online fraud and data extortion. In other words, a concretely lucrative business that flushes foreign currency into the state coffers.

What is unclear, however, is the objective of what is currently the second notable North Korean Internet phenomenon: an apparently broad-based social media offensive. In a series of channels, which according to CNN are new and have been astonishingly successful in a short time, the country is staging itself as a pleasant home for seemingly normal teenagers. Who speak perfect English with a British accent. Who, for example, enjoy popsicles and love to read Harry Potter. Only the former is hardly available and the latter is even officially banned. Why is this done? Good question.

The videos "look like a well-prepared play" scripted by the North Korean government, said Park Seong-cheol, a researcher at the Database Centre for North Korean Human Rights. The scenes shown from the alleged everyday life of youngsters are not completely fake, but staged. For example, there is a water park, a movie theater and an amusement park in Pyongyang. Only these facilities are reserved for an elite class of party officials, military officers and government employees. Like the Internet access these strange influencers use - just like the smartphones that aren't actually available. What's the point when, according to the CIA fact book, only 26% of the population even has electricity? It would be nice if the North Korean tourist office, which wants to open the country's borders to international tourism, were behind this.

More likely, however, it is a red herring. With which the regime wants to influence the current narrative: North Korea is not an isolated country that could attack its neighbors and the United States with nuclear weapons. But rather an ordinary East Asian country where ordinary people like you and me live ordinary lives. Combined with the recent spate of missile launch tests, the latest expansion of the Nyŏngbyŏn nuclear facility documented with satellite imagery, and a new solid-fuel intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) unveiled just last Wednesday at the 75th anniversary of the founding of the armed forces, this leaves a queasy feeling.

Good News of the Week:

Probably the death toll of 28,000 from the earthquake in the Turkish-Syrian border region is out of date by the time I post this. The worst series of quakes since scientific records began has devastated an area where nearly 20 million people live. And as events unfold, a whole series of negative findings are coming to light.

The Turkish government is not implementing the regulations that actually apply to buildings in the latently earthquake-prone region. Neither Syria's ruler Bashar al-Assad nor the rebels in the north of the country are allowing solid disaster relief by foreign forces. Enemy nations cannot be stopped from attacking each other even in this situation. Even in the Near East, there are sub-zero temperatures at this time of year. And the Kurds remain constantly the biggest loosers of them all anyway.

Fortunately, many humanitarian highlights are also showing up in the face of adversity. For example, even Sweden, reviled by Erdogan, is sending aid workers to eastern Anatolia. So is the beleaguered Ukraine, which surely would have been admitted a different set of priorities. And those that don't have appropriately equipped aid workers, like the United Arab Emirates, are opening their wallets. And every day there are - still! - improbable miracles, such as the rescue of a heavily pregnant woman who was rescued yesterday after 115 hours under rubble.

What somehow makes one optimistic despite the terrible circumstances is humanity. When people stand by each other in times of need, even though the religion they believe in actually dictates enmity. When official requirements are suspended in order to allow family members who have become homeless to travel to their relatives in Germany, for example. Or when the international community thinks not only about the current rescue, but also about reconstruction afterwards - the EU has already announced a donor conference for those affected.

Even the self-proclaimed crown of creation, which likes to define itself in terms of greed, resentment, jealousy or hatred, is capable of empathy. It's nice that the term "humanity" still has a positive connotation. Even though we so often seem to go out of our way to change that. The heart is probably more than just a blood-pumping muscle after all. And conscience more than a transmission in the synapses of the brain.

Personal happy moment of the week:

I broke a bottle of red wine while shopping the other day. And moistened various purchases in the carrier bag. I noticed most of it and was able to clean and dry it. That the red wine also flowed into a box of cigarillos, I did not even notice. Not until I wanted to smoke one and had a damp, soft stem in my hand. So I put the box open on the heater in the office. And discovered two pleasant side effects of my mishap: the smell of red wine and tobacco at work has an comfortable calming effect. And the taste of the cigarillos gets a pleasant additional flavor. From that perspective, I was able to profitably recycle some of the spilled red wine.

I couldn't care less...

...whether the former head of the Office for the Protection of the Constitution, Hans-Georg Maaßen, who is increasingly conspicuous for his racist and conspiracy-theory tones, can be officially expelled from the conservative CDU. Or whether the high good of freedom of speech also protects him within the party from accountability for his unspeakable statements. The fact that an obviously extreme right-winger could rise as a political official to become the head of the most important authority for upholding the state of lawfulness, of all things, weighs considerably more heavily and calls for more consequences than which membership card he carries around with him.

As I write this...

...I'm drinking a beer not even five hours after I got up today. A tough week in many ways takes its toll. And I tackle the challenge of relaxing Bavarian style.

Post Scriptum

In the German capital Berlin, the House of Representatives will be newly elected today - as a repeat election. This is because the regional election that took place in the fall of 2021 parallel to the federal election was declared invalid by the Administrative Court due to numerous mishaps - from ballots running hout to polling stations closing too late. Realpolitically less relevant, since no result of the election would change e.g. the majority conditions in the Bundesrat, is a look on Berlin nevertheless interesting. On the one hand, out of sarcasm, since this debacle also fits perfectly with the prejudice that simply nothing works in this city. On the other hand, out of curiosity, since in the end every conceivable party constellation is indeed possible. The extent of my tendency toward the former will depend on the first projection in less than an hour on the latter.

[pi-creates]

Hi Pi! So I'm trying to swap AJ and Clem around for TWDG S4 E2. All I want is for Louis to carry Clem instead of AJ in that one cutscene when they return to the school after AJ is shot. I am however very confused with some of the renaming parts since AJ and Clem have different model parts and such and I don't want everything to break. Could you please help me?

Sure thing! I'm assuming by the way this is worded that you are familiar with the basics of how to unarchive the files and such, but I'm gonna link the bigger tutorial here just in case. [Model Swap Tutorial]

For that specific moment, AJ is using different files to his 'normal' files. If you extract the e2txmesh, sort the extracted files by 'file type', then this should be all of the AJ mesh files:

Those 'ajWounded' files are the ones used for the camping with James scene, the return to the school, and the scene where Louis comes to bring AJ clothes in the dorms. So these are the files we want to replace if you want another character to appear in that place.

We have 6 basic model areas to work with: bodyLower bodyUpper eyesMouth hair hands head -and we have the outlier file of the gunShot which is specific and unique to these scenes. There isn't an equivalent file to overwrite this, but it does give a theoretical 7th swap slot if needed.

If you're having trouble understanding what parts do what, I've colour coded them here:

Now if we go look at Clem's files in episode 2, they look like this:

You need to pick out which files you want to use to overwrite those 6 files that a wounded AJ uses. As you can see, Clem has more than one option for the bodyUpper, hair, and hands. And if you went into the future episodes there would be even more options in regards to Clem's lower body (wounded, bitten, and with the missing leg).

So for your swap you'll have to be selective and choose one option for each file you're overwriting. So for me, I wanted Clem without her hat, with her normal clothes, and with all of her fingers, therefore these are the files I chose and then renamed:

The 'sk_ajWounded_gunShot' is a 0kb file I created by making a blank text document and changing its file extension from '.txt' to '.d3dmesh'. There is also the option to simply duplicate one of the other files so the game tries to load it twice. This will simply delete the meshes for the gunshots from appearing in scenes. In theory, if you wanted Clem to be wearing the pins that appear in Violet route you could use the 'gunShot' slot to have the pins appear in those scenes.

[pre-warning that trying to swap/remove the 'sk63_ajWounded_gunShot.d3dmesh' will break the one scene where you try to remove the buckshot with James - it removes the interaction points so you can't advance the scene]

Outside of the meshes, you also have to make sure you replace the 'sk63_ajWounded.skl' file in the data folder. And since you're replacing his files with Clem's in an episode other than ep1, make sure you use the 'sk62_clementine402.skl' instead of the 'sk62_clementine400.skl' file.

Aside from that, the other data files and the animation files are standard to any other swap. I hope that helps.

[Oh, btw... I should mention that taller characters will 'hover' when they are lifted/seated in a scene that is supposed to be occurring to a shorter character. This won't break most scenes, but it does look odd. If you're looking to get screenshots or record the scene, you'll have to get creative with angles to hide the more glaring issues that pop up like that]

[moonlightsylph]

"You can't wake up, this is not a dream

You're part of a machine, you are not a human being

With your face all made up, living on a screen

Low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline"

[POWER ON]

"Welcome to another episode of Knock, where I answer back to what bumps in the dark. I'm your host, Sammy, and today we are going to investigate the rumors surrounding a place called Talespinner's Cove. Word says there are strange things that come out in the dark, more so once the weather dips and the fog rolls in. What rumor I am after, believe it or not, is the sound of train whistles and screeching iron coming from the cave facing the water."

The camera pans to the scenery. Tall cliffs ring around a body of water, an opening at its crescent point that feeds back into the ocean. There is an iron set of stairs bolted into the face of a cliff, allowing moderately safe passage up and down. The camera then settles on the cave. There are signs bolted to the side, warnings of possible cave-ins, rules to follow marked pathways and a long cable that runs along the floor that supplies lights within.

"Normally this place is open to the public during the day, which is great! It shows the natural erosion of rocks, the complex cave systems that are dug from wind, salt and animals. All that good stuff, but what we are after is the tunnel dug out by Man back in the 40's. When the Railroads were still in business, expanding from sea to shining sea, there were plans made to have a tunnel dug out that was large enough for a locomotive to fit. Word tells that it was nearly completed too until the crew disappeared!"

The camera starts moving, in rhythm to walking, getting ever closer to the cave mouth as Sam continues to talk.

"The search was on! Tunnels after tunnels were scoured for our missing workforce, scent-hounds let loose to howl in the depths with their handlers hot at their heels. But nothing ever came from it. There were no bodies, no personal effects, just emptiness. This was placed as a sad event that would never be solved, the missing persons announced dead once the search was ended. But that wasn't the end of the story!"

Lights glimmer in the dark, lighting the way for Sam, the camera catching every bit of data it can. Finally, the scene stops in front of a split in the path. One where the lights continue, the other blocked off with caution tape. You see Sam's hand reach out to part the tape gently as the view moves past it into the dark. The Scene turns green as night-mode is turned on.

"Three years later, someone came back. Richard Bellows, the supposed senior member of the workforce, second in command. He was found lying unconscious outside the cave's mouth, before being rescued by a local Park Ranger and brought to the hospital. While certain details of the case were left blank for public records, personal accounts still surfaced on the state of the man. They said his eyes were blank, as if he was still in a deep nightmare while being perfectly awake. He would mumblr deep into the quiet nights about smoke and steam, of searching eyes that burned on the flesh. It was later explained away as exposure, as the most likely cause for such a state of mind was if the Workers had struck a fault in their work and released some kind of gas. He was lucky to survive and ended up living a longer life. Though near the end it was said he isolated himself more and more until one day he all but disappeared. Many believe he quietly passed away, now free from his demons that haunted him since his accident."

She turns the camera to face herself.

"But there was one peice that denied that. An old black and white photo of a man in his winter years, standing in front of this cave. To the theorists out there, some argue that the man returned to the caves to look for his lost co-workers from being riddled with guilt. Others, though, think he returned because he lost himself here and finally came to reclaim it. Tonight? We will find the truth or at least something to lead to it!"

The camera is still facing her, she doesn't notice it. She doesn't see the lights gather behind her, softly at first but brighter and hungry.

She doesn't see it coming.

But it sees her.

The last image the camera captures is her smiling face, determination in her eyes, before it all fades to snow and static.

And the sound of a train whistle.

[VIDEO END]

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>[Home]

[Select file]

[Erase Memory]

[New Video]

[Home]

[Select file]

[Erase file]

>[New Video]

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.

.

[POWER ON]

"......"

The scene is dark. There is a crack over the lense and dirt built up. A hand covered in a sleeve wipes away the grime, showing a clearer picture of a cave wall. It pans around, showing nothing at first before seeing the tape and lights. The video shows them moving towards the light, slipping through the tape and catching a minute glimpse of metal-like legs behind tattered fabric.

The video then turns to static, showing its condition. The next scene is the water of the cove, the Moon high and quiet between the crescent points of the cliffs. The camera pans down to the water, still and clear as a mirror.

Reflecting the little red light of the camera, and the glow of colorless eyes against a dark body.

The camera spins, now facing the operator. Glowing white eyes, pupils shaped like cogs with a ring of color at the center that pulse with the sound of ocean waves.

"...H̸e̴l̴l̶o̸"

[foraging-my-bliss]

Journals:

I find joy in my journals. I have been journaling off and on since 2011. It began as a way to chronicle my lovely dates with my boyfriend (now husband ) when we had just started dating. I’d record every moment I wanted to keep forever in the pages of a little paper blanks journal from the college book store. Over the years it has evolved into more of a meditative mind dump. It’s helped to provide me the space to rant, ramble, and repeat thoughts and feelings without judgment. Sometimes, in the Midst of ranting about a certain problem, I come to either a solution or a personal discovery as I untangle the web of thoughts I have unceremoniously dumped onto the pages. I find so much joy in picking out a new journal each time I begin to close in on the end of my current one. My all tome favorite place to find journals right now is in the Great Wall book store within the china town mall here in Las Vegas. The first journal I ever got from there was as my first Valentine’s gift from my husband back in 2012. After I dragged it out off him where he had found suc an adorable little journal, I started buying most of them from there. There’s all sorts of sweet little designs with illustrations in the pages. I’ve recently been drawn to their plush cover journals because something about them feel cozier for my evening journaling. But to be honest, what really has helped me find more internal joy, genuine happiness, was the recent implementation of the gratitude journal. I am not naturally a grateful or positive person. My journal entries were often a lot of ranting and lamentations of what has been lost or what i do not have. I was often told that gratitude journaling would be a useful tool for me but I just felt like there was nothing to be grateful for. On a day I was going to look for a new journal at china town, I ended up stumbling upon three matching journals for 5$ each at Ross. Now, I love my china town journals but they can be pricey, and these were just what I needed.aesthetically pleasing, spiral bound as a bonus, not something I usually work with, and cheap. I only really needed one, but for that price, I wanted all three of these pretty books. But what did I need 3 for ?? I designated the black one for mind dumps, the mauve colored one for gratitude journaling. And the blue one for another new type of journaling: manifest scripting. Together, these journals became tools that cultivates a more positive, grateful, hopeful, and clearer mind. Now that I had an excuse to use three journals at once, I decided to really put my all into utilizing them and see what the hype was about gratitude and manifest journaling. While brain dumping gave me a place to clear my mind, gratitude journaling filled that same mental space back up with positivity, and manifest journaling, filled it up with hope. Both were things I had not experienced in…I can’t even really remember the last time I felt positive or hopeful. But I started making lists of things I envisioned for myself. Things I wanted to make happen, without realizing I was listing reasons to stay alive another day. I manifested academic success in my journal for my phlebotomy class in the face of my fear of failure. I manifested a job in my field of study that would pay more than I’ve ever made in the past. And I continue to manifest journal for all of the things I want to see come to fruition in my life and The more energy I put into writing it, the more hopeful I feel for them to happen. The more determined I feel to fight any dark suicidal thoughts I have to make sure I see my manifestations become realized. And then of course . Gratitude journaling . I make lists almost every night for anything big or small I am happy about. Either little moments thought the day, like a patient telling me my stick was painless or a word of encouragement from my Mother in law. Or things I didn’t have before that I have now, like a safe home environment. I often repeat items in later lists, like the beatific art in my room or my stereo. Journaling has been so helpful. In it, I find bliss.

[datingtip4men]

Tips on Calling Single Women on the Telephone for the First Time

So, you have finally worked up the courage to call the woman you met last night, have you. Why, then, does your hand tremble when you reach for the phone? Don't clutch that handset any tighter, or it just might shatter. Does the icy grip of the sweat running down your brow weaken your resolve just a bit? Rejoice, my good fellow, this can be a uplifting experience, a fearful delight, an opportunity to begin a exalted relationship, a chance to make a fool of yourself. If, indeed, heaven and hell can coexist in the exact same moment, and they can, it is right here, here and now.

There is a rhythm and flow to a good telephone conversation. A rhythm and flow. As in any contact between people, a connection must be made, a rapport established. It is akin to climbing a perpendicular rock wall, to catching the rising tide and taming the howling winds, to walking barefoot over broken glass. Once the initial resistance (pain) is overcome, everything goes easier. It flows. Plunge in, immerse yourself and set free your voice, let it express your feelings, let it sing for you, let the telephone wires carry your message, and at some point (perhaps) there will be a "click". That is the resonance point, the place where things fit together. The channel will be open, and the words will come, they will come of their own accord, and flow, smoothly they will flow, as though destiny itself had written them in fire.

Making Preparations for That First Call

Practice the simple techniques that strip a first call of most of its terrors. Take a blank notebook (this will become your "phone project" book) and begin outlining how you want the conversation to go. What would you talk about? What do you know about the woman -- her life story, her personality, her likes and dislikes, her beliefs and passions? What do you feel comfortable revealing about your own self? What is most important for her to know about you? What can you say that will purposefully lead to finding things you have in common, interests you share, activities you could do together...

Hopefully, you will have by now filled up the first several pages of the project book. At this point, transfer the information to a format that will better suit your purpose. Consider making a wall chart, a more or less elaborate diagram on poster board that will prompt you, guide and direct your conversation, when required. This will function as a sort of "talisman", or lucky charm, to boost your confidence as needed.

Another item in your "tool box" is a set of index cards, that can likewise serve as a reminder and memory aid. This will remedy the "I should have said that" and "if I had only thought of..." syndrome. The cards can be used to take notes while you talk, and, at the very least, they will occupy your your hands and keep you from biting your nails.

Maintain a scrapbook of interesting facts, meticulously gathered and culled out from the newspapers and publications you read. This can help spark the conversation. During those dreadful moments of awkward silence, when neither of you can think of anything to say, you can discreetly leaf through the scrapbook and -- Aha! "Did you know that...?"

Finally, you might want to try a "dry run", or rehearsal. Call a sympathetic family member or a good friend who will not laugh at you, and have this person play the part of the woman you will be speaking to. Practice your varying "opening lines" and responses, and ask for feedback. A little gentle criticism can do wonders for your phone technique. On the other hand, if there is no one you wish to share your little project with, you can always do this by yourself, tape recording the session if you like. Repeat the procedure until you are confident you can handle "the real thing".

Make yourself comfortable. Put on some of your favorite music in the background. Soft music, music with a romantic undertone, as you prefer. Dim the lights (but not so low that you are unable to read your project book, wall chart, or index cards). Have a glass of water within reach. Take a deep breath and punch those numbers.

"Hello, I'm John Smith. No, I'm not peddling insurance, just my own sweet self. I'm the fellow who asked you for your phone number last night at the art gallery. Time to let her talk. Keep enough presence of mind to make the appropriate noises and grunts at the right times to let her know you're still there. Laugh at her funnies. Encourage her. Administer verbal strokes and smiles, as necessary.

Speak in your natural voice... you need not strain. Take care not to dwell overly much on yourself. I, I, I, I... talking about I and me constantly is boring, boring. Ask her about herself, question her *gently*. Let her talk. Listen. Listen. Respond. Pepper the conversation with humor, genuine good humor. Humor is the saving grace of human discourse.

There is an abundance, a veritable universe to talk about, to share:

Tell her about the time you almost skidded off the overpass because you were trying to juggle a soft drink and a baloney sandwich.

Share your most embarrassing moments growing up.

Explain why the sky gets dark at night (Olber's Paradox).

Discuss the implications of not helping the refugees of Kosovo.

Discuss whether cats make better pets than dogs, or vice versa.

Give her your favorite exotic scrambled egg recipe.

Play her a song from your favorite album.

Avoid like the plague politics, religion, and conspiracy theories. There will be plenty of time to argue about these later in the relationship. Iffy topics include demonic possession and the occult, UFO's, and the weather. Subject that tend to arouse strong negative feelings or conversely, that evoke no feelings at all, are best left alone.

When the conversation starts to wind down, when you both run out of things to say - this is a signal to sign off. Tell her how much you enjoyed speaking with her, that her company, even at a distance, has enlivened your evening. Ask her, gently, if she would care to repeat the experience (assuming it has not been too painful for either of you). Hang the phone up and have a cold beer or glass of wine to celebrate.

Be sure and visit: http://www.getgirls.com/manchap.htm - for four FREE chapters from our best-seller called, "A Man's Guide to Women." This is probably the best book ever written on understanding women and how to deal with them.

More dating tips at: www.getgirls.com