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luigisbambinaaa · 26 days ago

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Please, Don’t Kill Me Mr Ghostface!

summary: it's halloweekend, you're dressed as Velma for the annual party, ready to blow off some steam. then ghostface dragged you upstairs and ruined you. are you sure you don't recognize the voice behind the mask?

content warning: CNC, cream pie, rough sex, choking, hair pulling, dub con, spanking, pronebone, overstimulation, squirting, mask kink, brat taming, ghostface!luigi

an: this is kinda based off this twitter link (NSFW). i have had this idea in my head all day and this is also for my anon that asked for dom lu!!! obvi had to throw some pronebone in this for my lovely palmers! and my girl soulsmangione for the help brainstorming. enjoy! send me your filthy ass thoughts! this is kinda long BTW.

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you were already pissed the second you stepped out of your dorm— not the cute type of mad either. no. you were livid, the storming-through-campus-in platforms type of livid. hair bouncing. hips swinging. shiniest lip gloss on. your rage barely contained.

why?

luigi fucking mangione.

he had you at your wits end earlier that day and he fucking knew it too. looking at you with a smug ass grin like he could see the steam pouring out of your ears.

you had made one slip during your presentation in your lecture earlier. ONE. and he didn’t even wait for the professor to correct it, he just leaned over, all casual, and whispered, “that’s actually not accurate at all but go off.”

go off?

you damn near did.

you turned and hissed, “do you ever shut the fuck up?” he just smiled, infuriating and unbothered. “not when you’re spreading false information.”

you were both separated before it could escalate any further. before you could slap that fucking smile off his face. before you could tell him exactly what you thought of his condescending ass tone, his stupid fucking perfect marks, and the way he ALWAYS stared at you like he wanted a fight.

so yeah, you were late to the annual halloween party. not because you weren’t ready, god you’d been ready since the second your professor let you all loose for the weekend. but because you needed a minute to cool down. also maybe another to make sure your orange top hugged your tits to perfection.

velma never looked this fucking good. tiny pleated skirt, tight crop top, and lip gloss that matched the glint you carried in your eyes. a loose cardigan hanging off your shoulders and glasses perched low. just enough to look like a costume, not enough to hide how fucking pissed and hot you looked.

you wanted a drink. maybe seven. you wanted to forget how he made you feel—like you were seconds away from either slapping the absolute shit out of him or climbing into his lap and ripping that cocky tone out of his throat.

you wanted him out of your head.

so when you walked into the packed house and were hit with a wall of fog and drunk, crazed frat boys and the latest rap hits, you didn’t hesitate. you made a beeline straight to your friends, all dressed as the scooby-doo gang.

“BIIIITCHHH! just in time for shots!”

you let them scream. let them grab you and shove a test tube shot in your hand. you tipped it back without blinking.

“you good?” daphne asked, eyes wide.

you just smirked. “i’m fine. just need to blow off some steam.”

that first shot hit your chest like a wildfire. the second made your lips a little numb. by the third, you were laughing—head thrown back, skirt riding up high, the whole thing. you and the rest of your scooby gang had migrated to the living room couch, legs draped over each other, plastic test tubes beginning to pile up on the sticky coffee table. somewhere between the back to back shots and daphne making out with shaggy, you all started loudly rating everyone’s costumes.

“dracula in the corner?”

“mid.”

“cowboy with the fake gun and vest?”

“seven. for effort.”

“oh my god is that the pope?”

“ten. immediately ten. i’d fuck a priest.”

you were flushed and tipsy, your lip gloss smeared from the last drink you were handed, and for the first time in awhile, luigi wasn’t on your mind. he was just a cocky little memory you were letting fade away into the music and booze.

and then—

the door creaked open again.

and in walked him.

ghost face. full black robe. the mask. the knife. tall. broad. walking in like he owned the room. whoever it was, he wasn’t stumbling around like everyone else. wasn’t laughing either. just stared, slow and deliberate, scanning the place.

you gasped, dramatically and tipsy as hell, clutching daphne’s arm.

“NO FUCKING WAY. MR. GHOST FACE HIMSELF.”

then, you didn’t even hesitate.

still giggling, teeth barred into a huge grin, you stumbled your way straight toward him, your platforms clicking across the floor like you were on a runway. and he didn’t move. didn’t flinch. just watched you come closer like he knew you were headed straight for him.

“oh my god,” you gasped again, eyes wide with a dramatic flair as you looked up at him, practically bouncing on your toes. “you look so hot. are you here to kill me oorrrr..”

he didn’t answer. just tilted his head a little.

and your drunk little brain went feral.

you reached up and grabbed his bicep, tight, firm, warm even through the tight sleeve, and squeezed with a grin. “let me get you a shot. wanna drink? come on, come on!” you tugged on him without waiting, fingers curling around his arm like you knew he wouldn’t fight you on it.

he let you guide him. silent. heavy. dangerous.

you didn’t notice the way his gloved fingers twitched. didn’t notice his breath stutter. and definitely didn’t notice the way he eye fucked you. taking in your bare legs, the way your ass peeked out under the skirt, and how lip gloss was smeared. thinking about earlier— about your voice, about how pissed you were, about how badly he wanted to shut you up with something other than words.

you were still giggling, dragging him to the kitchen, completely unaware.

“okay but seriously—you got a voice under there or are you really going for the whole creepy silent gimmick the entire night? because i kinda like it. it’s giving hot and dangerous.”

he just nodded once. and when you turned your back to grab him a shot from the counter, your ass brushing against him? he almost fully bent you over and fucked you right there.

but of course, he didn’t. instead, he took the drink from your hand and stayed quiet. slipping it under the mask and downing it. and that only made you even more obsessed.

“okay mister mysterious,” you grinned, biting your lip as you reached for his hand again, “you’re so coming with me.”

you laced your fingers with his gloved ones like you’d known him forever, dragging him right back toward the living room, giggling the entire way. your friends were still camped out on the couch, mid howl over someone’s costume malfunctioning when you burst into their circle.

“LOOK AT WHO I GOT HERE!” you announced like it was a toast of sorts, twirling dramatically with his hand in yours.

gasps. from all sides of the couch.

“no. shut up.”

“girl, where did you find him?”

“okay scream king!!!!”

“that is the hottest fucking ghost face ive ever fucking seen—“

daphne points, eyes wide. “say the line! say the line!”

you didn’t even miss a beat. you threw your body against his side, grabbing his bicep with both hands and putting on your best dramatic horror girl voice.

“please don’t kill me, mr ghost face—“ you fluttered your eyelashes, then gasped and flinched into him with a squeal, nails digging into his arm. “i wanna be in the sequel!”

the girls screamed.

ghost face? didn’t say a word. but you swore you felt his bicep flex under your grip. and when you looked up at him, breathless and tipsy and still grinning?

he tilted his head again.

and even though he hadn’t said a single word, your stomach did a flip. because whoever this guy was? he didn’t just wear the costume. he had embodied it.

and the way he was staring at you right now, even through the plastic mask?

you felt like the final girl. but this time you wouldn’t be running away.

you barely had time to recover from the attention, your friends screaming, the heat in your cheeks, or the weight of his stare. and then you felt it. a hand. on the back of your neck. gloved, firm, possessive.

“what the fu—?” before you could even fully register, the ghost face had leaned in and gripped you, dragging you off the couch like he was fed up with watching you play pretend.

“hey—hey!” what the fuck? i’m trying to hang with my friends—!”

you twisted and thrashed in his grip, stumbling in your boots, but he didn’t care. didn’t care to pause or speak, just latched his hand around your wrist, pulled you in tight and forcefully dragged you through the crowd like you weighed nothing. you were breathless by the time he pulled you upstairs, stumbling over the last step, heart pounding in your throat.

“okay, what the actual fuck, this isn’t—“

you didn’t get to finish. because he shoved you. your back slammed into the hallway wall, air rushing out of your lungs. the music downstairs felt miles away now—muted and useless. darkness swallowed everything, even the both of you.

he reached up and pushed the mask just high enough to reveal his mouth and crashed into you. his mouth devoured yours. hot, desperate, messy, with no hesitation or teasing, just pure, filthy need. his gloved hand shot up and wrapped around your throat, thumb pressing hard against your pulse, holding you there like he owned you. you gasped against his lips, body jolting, but he didn’t let go. he deepened the kiss like he wanted to taste your shock, tongue sliding past your lips like he had every right to.

your nails scratched against his robe, searching for something to ground yourself on, but your brain had already fogged over. you moaned, open, high pitched, and unintentional and the sound made him growl straight into your mouth, fingers tightening just right around your neck making you even dizzier. your hips rolled forward as if they had a mind of their own, grinding against him before you even knew you were doing it. he pressed in harder, his thigh slotted between yours. he kissed you like he fucking hated you. like he needed you.

and when you finally managed to gasp, “who the fuck—“ he cut you off with another bruising kiss, tongue sliding against yours, his hand keeping you pinned right where he wanted it. “w-we shouldn’t—“ you gasped, voice breaking against his mouth s you finally shoved his chest, breath ragged, lips swollen from how hard he had been kissing you. “i don’t even know who you are—!” he didn’t bother answering, not with words anyway.

his hand slid up into your hair, fingers tangling right at the root before yanking your head back, baring your throat. you gasped, a sharp little sound that got swallowed instantly when he bit your bottom lip hard enough to make you whimper.

“my friends—“ you tried again, breathless, dizzy, still trembling. “they’re waiting—i need to go—“ he didn’t care. he tugged your hair again, rougher this time, and ragged his lips down to your jaw, then your neck, biting, sucking, his tongue leaving a trail of heat with every pass. you moaned in spite of yourself, fists curled in the front of his robe.

“you don’t even who i am,” you said again, weaker this time. pleading.

he just leaned in and let his breath hit your ear, voice low and deep. “you will.” then he adjusted the ghost face mask back over his face, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to ruin you. before you could run, before you could even think, he grabbed your wrist again, tighter this time, and yanked you down the pitch black hallway like you were nothing more then prey.

your boots scraped against the floor, breath coming faster, your free hand gripping the wall, the air cold, thick, and buzzing in your ears. “wait—!wait—“ you cried, stumbling as he opened the next door and shoved you inside. you didn’t even see what room it was. all you knew was the door slammed behind you and you were alone with him.

you turned around slowly, your back hitting the edge of something— a desk, maybe, or a dresser, just as your eyes adjusted to the dark. he was still there. ghost face. standing by the door. mask tilted. watching you. silent. you swallowed hard. “dude,” you said, voice cracking slightly as you backed up another step, hands raising. “come on. i don’t even know who you are. this shit isn’t funny anymore.” no answer. he just started walking. slow. steady. controlled.

your pulse skyrocketed as you felt your back press against the far wall. “seriously—“ you breathed, voice shaking. “let’s just go back downstairs, okay? we’ll forget this even happened!” but he didn’t stop. and when he got close enough, so close you could smell the alcohol on his breath again, you snapped. you bolted for the door. you barely made it two steps.

his arm hooked around your waist and lifted you back with terrifying ease, dragging you backwards before you could scream. your breath ripped from your chest as he spun you and threw you face down onto the bed. the mattress hit your ribs and you let out a choked gasp, but he didn’t give you a second to recover. he was already climbing on top of you, one knee on the bed, the other braced tight. and then, his full weight dropped on the backs of your thighs. you cried out, hips pinned to the mattress instantly, legs kicking uselessly beneath him.

“stop! get off!” you snapped, trying to twist, push up, scramble, anything, but you were stuck. his gloved hands pressed into the mattress beside your head, caging you in. you felt him lean in, the plastic of his mask brushing your hairline, his breath hot against your ear as he stayed completely silent.

your whimper escaped before you could bite it back. small, high pitched, and weak. and that was all it took. you felt him shift behind you, slow and deliberate. the bed creaked under his weight as he adjusted, dragging his body further down your legs, keeping your thighs completely caged. you tried to lift your head, maybe even crawl forward, or let out a shout, literally anything—but then you felt him.

his gloved hand sliding under the hem of your skirt and in one rough, practiced motion—flip. the tiny skirt flew up over your ass and settled around your waist, leaving you exposed in your tiniest little thong. the air hit your skin, and you shuddered, the cold hitting the intense heat radiating off your body. you gasped, hips jolting. “f-fuck!” he didn’t say a word.

just grabbed a handful of your ass, fingers digging in hard. no teasing, just a rough, possessive squeeze. you yelped, twisting under him, trying to kick. he didn’t budge. just leaned more of his weight down over you, pinning your legs between his thighs. your boots scraped uselessly at the sheets and your fists curled in the blanket.

and then—he spanked you. hard. a loud, violent crack rang through the room as his gloved palm struck the bare skin of your plush ass, sending shockwaves straight through your spine. you cried out, body lurching forward—but you couldn’t escape, not with him on top of you like that. absolutely not with his hand immediately following it up with another bruising grab.

you tried to lift your head again, breath catching in your throat. “stop—! i—i can’t—“ he didn’t listen. another slap, this one lower, firmer. you cried out again, voice breaking into soft whines and hiccuped breaths, your hips wriggling out of instinct, even though you knew he wasn’t letting you go. his free hand pressed between your shoulder blades, forcing your chest back down against the mattress while he ground his weight down harder into your thighs, keeping you completely pinned.

you felt him shift again behind you. felt the solid weight of him through his pants as he ground slowly against the curve of your ass, dragging it in like it was the most casual thing in the world. still silent. still masked. still treating your body like it was his and all you could do was moan.

he ground into you again, slower this time, cruel. dragging the thick length of his cock right along the seam of your ass, grinding down like he knew exactly where to hit. you gasped, body twitching under him, another pathetic little whimper spilling out of your throat before you could stop it. he let out a low grunt behind the mask, dark and rough. not even trying to hold it in.

then, without a word, he sat up, weight shifting off your thighs for just a second. you heard the rustle of fabric, the clink of his belt, and then the heavy thud of his robe hitting the floor. you lifted your head, just barely, still panting. he was behind you again in seconds. only boxers now, still masked. still silent. and cock straining against fabric.

wasting no time, his hands gripped your ass, hard. you yelped as he yanked your cheeks apart, spreading you wide without care, exposing everything like you already belonged to him. you squirmed, shame rushing up your spine, and then he saw it. the wet patch, dark, obvious. soaking right through the center of your tiny little thong. he paused and then let out a low, mean laugh. you whimpered, twisting beneath him, but his grip only tightened.

his thumb pressed directly over the soaked spot, rubbing a slow, mocking circle right over it. “look at you,” he muttered, voice low, muffled, and vile. “acting like you didn’t want this. dressed like a whore, whining like you’re scared. and you’re already dripping.” you gasped, eyes squeezing shut, hips bucking forward, but his free hand shoved your back down into the mattress, holding you flush and helpless.

“don’t you fucking move.”

his thumb pressed in harder, slower, circling again. “pathetic little slut,” he growled, almost to himself. “getting off on being dragged around like this. bet you were hoping i’d drag you upstairs and ruin you in this costume the second i walked in.”

you choked on a breath, body trembling under the weight of his voice and his hands and the humiliation crashing over you. he kept going—pressing, circling, controlling and you couldn’t stop your hips from pushing back into his thumb, just barely, but enough. enough for him to notice. enough for him to laugh again.

he kept rubbing. lazier now, even slower. like he had all night to humiliate you. and then his voice dropped low behind the mask, pure venom. “yeah?” a pause. “ain’t that right?”. you didn’t answer. you couldn’t, you wouldn’t. your jaw clenched tight even as your hips stayed pressed into his hand.

wrong move. his hand left your soaked panties, only for a second, before landing another sharp, brutal slap to your ass. you yelped, body jolting forward into the mattress. “answer me.” you shook your head, mouth stammering, voice barely holding together. “n-no,” you whimpered, even as your voice cracked. “let me go—please—“

but your body betrayed you completely. your hips pushed back again, your thighs trembled, and you nodded. just barely and just once. a broken little movement you didn’t mean to make, but he caught it and laughed. low, mean, and vindicated. “that’s what i thought,” he muttered, dragging his palm back down, fingers slipping between your thighs just to make you jolt again.

“say all the no’s you want,” he growled, breath hot through the mask. “this pussy already told me yes.”

you squeezed your eyes shut, shame and heat rolling through you in waves because he was right after all. you couldn’t hide the way you moved, the way you moaned, nor the way your body kept giving in. he stayed right where he was, straddling you, thumb pressing back into that soaked spot between your legs with a filthy purpose.

he didn’t say another word. just moved. you heard the rustle, the low shuffle of fabric, the drag of elastic, and then felt the shift in weight behind you. the sound of him stripping down and the cold air hitting your thighs where his body had been.

and then, heat. his cock dropped heavy between your ass cheeks, thick and hit, and already so fucking hard. the weight of it undeniable as it dragged low over your skin. he didn’t bother grinding or thrusting, just letting it rest there like a threat. you were flat on your stomach, cheek smashed against the bed, arms folded useless beneath you. you could feel the slick sweat at your temple. your thighs already trembling as his body lowered again over yours.

his bare chest pressed to your back. his hips locked in behind yours and you were pinned. chest, stomach, legs—every inch of you covered and caged. he shifted his knees wider on the mattress, and your thighs followed, pushed open just by the slow, grinding weight of him settling between them. you gasped, twitched, but didn’t move.

it’s quiet, then… RRRIP. your thong snapped like nothing between his fists. you yelped, your hips jerking forward from the sudden sting, but he was already dragging the ruined fabric out from under you like it was nothing. tossing it somewhere behind him like he never meant to give them back to you.

you were bare now, panting and open beneath him. he gripped your ass, hard. both hands spreading you wide with no hesitation, his thighs digging into the crease where your thighs met your cheeks. and then he looked. you could feel him staring, feel the way his cock flexed against you, feel the low grunt that rumbled through his chest. he shifted his hips just enough to drag the thick, swollen head of his cock between your folds. dragging slow through your heat, not pushing in yet, just rubbing it there, spreading you with his size until you were gasping into the sheets.

you whimpered. thinking you had a moment to brace yourself. but then, he thrusted, hard. his cock shoved into you in one brutal stroke, bottoming out in seconds. your body forced forward on the bed from the power of it.

you screamed, your voice breaking open. raw and feral. your mouth falling open in a moan that came from somewhere deep within you. his whole body dropped on top of yours again, chest flush to your back, the heat of his breath roaring in your ear through his mask as he started to move. not slow or gentle. he fucked you like he meant to break you. hips snapping forward again and again, driving his cock into you at a rhythm that left you reeling, your breath knocked out with every slap of skin.

your legs were useless. your arms were jelly. your cunt stretched around him again and agin, the pressure already making you ache, the angle perfect from how he held you flat to the mattress. “fuck,” he growled against your neck. “this little pussy—so fucking tight.” you moaned again, louder than before, your voice catching as your fingers dug into the sheets, hips pushing up weakly just to try and take more of him and he felt it. he knew.

“you fucking like this,” he hissed. “say you don’t but your body says otherwise.” you couldn’t even answer. you just cried out again as he fucked you harder, pacing snapping into something brutal now, hips hammering against your ass, cock driving so deep it made your toes curl. his hands grabbed your hips, dragging you back into every thrust like you owed him this. like you were just a thing for him to use. and you were. right now? you’d let yourself be nothing but his as long as he kept going.

he never let up. if anything, he fucked you harder. hips slamming into your ass with punishing rhythm, dragging your body into every thrust like it was his right. like it was all you were good for. you could barely breathe. your moans breaking apart now, cracked sobs, strangled whines, high and desperate, muffled by the mattress you were still face down against. every time his cock drove into you, it felt deeper and meaner.

that was when his hand moved. sliding up your side, past your ribs, and over your chest until it wrapped around your throat from behind. you gasped and your back arched automatically as he dragged you up with him, lifting you part way off the bed by the neck, forcing you to arch and your head to tip back.

“mmff—fuck!” your voice caught, barely there, basically crushed under the pressure of his hand clamped tight around your throat. your chest heaved. your eyes fluttered.

and that angle, that slight shift of your hips and your arch, it lined him up perfectly. his next thrust hit you dead on, spearing into your g-spot with such vicious accuracy that you choked on your own moan. your mouth fell open with such a high, pitiful sound. your body jerking from the shock of it, toes curling and thighs twitching around his hips.

he felt it and did it again. again. and again. every brutal stroke now punching into that spot over and over, each one harder than the last, until your entire body was convulsing under him. “there she is,” he growled, voice thick behind the mask. “fuckin knew this was what you needed.”

you couldn’t even speak. couldn’t beg. your hands scrambled behind you, gripping at his thigh, his wrist, literally anything, but he still didn’t let up. he just kept going. his cock driving into your sweet spot so hard and fast your legs went weak beneath him, your eyes rolling back, your mouth falling slack as those guttural moans spilled out of you in shameless, helpless waves. and still, his hand never left your throat. just squeezed tighter, not enough to hurt you, but enough to remind you who was in control.

and still you couldn’t form any coherent thought nor let out a full breath. his deep, punishing thrusts making your vision blur and and your fingers claw at anything you could reach. your moans weren’t even pretty anymore, just guttural. your legs kicked weakly beneath him, thighs trembling, toes curling as you took it, body locked tight beneath him.

that’s when it started. that pressure in your belly winding fast, tight, and unforgiving. your mouth dropped open and you tried to warn him. “i—i’m—gonna—“ your voice broke, slurred, barely louder than a gasp. “gonna cum—!” prompting him to let out a low, cruel laugh behind the mask. “oh yeah?” his hips didn’t even falter, he just fucked you harder. “that so?” he drawled, mean and condescending. ��this slutty little pussy can’t take it anymore?” and you whined, high and ragged, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

“aww,” he cooed, mockingly, voice dripping in fake sympathy. “poor girl’s gonna cum for the masked man that dragged her upstairs and had his way with her?” he slammed into you again, forcing another scream from your throat. “go on, then,” he sneered. “cream on my cock. let everybody downstairs know exactly what kind of girl you are.”

you shook under him, stammering, trying to hold it back, but your body refused to listen. your mouth was saying “no—no—wait—“ but your hips were arching up. your cunt was squeezing tight around him and your legs shook. “fuckin knew you’d break,” he muttered, almost to himself. “tight little pussy acting like she didn’t want it. now look at you.”

you came with a scream, loud and shattered, thighs seizing, mouth falling open as your orgasm hit hard, every single nerve ending lighting up, your body pulsing around him in desperate waves as he kept driving into you. you were clenching down so hard he grunted behind the mask, low, breathy, and rough but he didn’t stop. he fucked you through it, letting you squirm and sob and twitch under him. you couldn’t even form words. just pathetic, open mouthed gasps.

after a beat, he finally pulled out. slow and cruel. you could feel every inch drag from your body, your walls clenching down like they didn’t want to let go, like you were trying to keep him inside even as you sobbed into the sheets. then, you felt the air, the emptiness, the slick spread over your thighs and pooling on the bed. you collapsed fully, face buried in the mattress, trembling all over, but he wasn’t done. not even close.

you barely had time to catch a breath before he grabbed your waist, flipped you over, and dragged your limp body down the bed until your hips hit the edge. your legs fell open without resistance, thighs shaking, everything about you wrecked. and he stood there between your legs, masked, silent. looking down at you, still crying. soft, overwhelmed tears slipping down your cheeks as your chest heaved, your body twitching every time a breeze hit your soaked, puffy pussy.

he didn’t say a word. just reached down, grabbed the base of his cock, still rock hard, soaked in your release and laid it across your cunt. hot and heavy. the thick, veiny weight of him pressing right over your clit made you jolt, legs twitching out of reflex. you whimpered. “no—no, i can’t—“ you gasped, voice shaking. “please, i can’t—“ he just laughed. “yes, yes you can,” he cooed, patting his cock down against your pussy once, twice, as if he was knocking. you let out a broken little sob.

“you’re not done,” he murmured, dragging the head of his cock through your folds slowly. “not until i say so.” “p-please,” you whimpered, legs shifting but he just leaned in and grabbed the insides of your thighs, forcing them wide again. then—smack! you cried out, hips jolting as he slapped your pussy with the weight of his cock, wet skin on skin, loud and filthy. “don’t tell me no,” he growled. “this messy little pussy’s saying yes just fine.” and you gasped, tears spilling over, your mouth open in a silent moan as he slapped it again. and still, your hips rocked up for more.

in the very next breath, he lined himself back up and thrust. you screamed again, broken and raw, back arching as his cock shoved back inside you in one brutal stroke, stretching you open all over again, the wet sound of it obscene between your bodies. “still so fucking tight,” he growled through the mask, voice ragged now, closer, lower. then, his hands grabbed your thighs and he dragged your legs up and around his waist, pulling you open and closer all at once. your knees squeezed around his hips as he leaned forward, body crashing into yours, chest to chest, heat and sweat and filth between you.

and he didn’t stop there. his hands slid up your arms next, fast and rough, until he found your wrists and forced them upward, pressing them into his shoulders. “put em around me.” you blinked, glassy eyed and overwhelmed. he leaned down more, voice thick through the mask, breath brushing your ear. “wrap your arms around my neck.” you obeyed before you even realized it, muscles limp but desperate, clinging to him like a lifeline. and once he had you wrapped around him like that, he started thrusting again. deep, slow at first, but so much deeper.

your moans poured out of you instantly—messy, slurred, your body jolting with every stroke he fucked into you at a new angle, the kind that made your toes curl and your voice crack from how full you felt. and him? he was groaning now. audibly. low, guttural sounds rasping in your ear through the mask, his hips shoving up hard into your soaked cunt, his body shuddering just like yours. “f-fuck,” he hissed, voice catching, almost desperate now.

every movement dragged you closer, your bodies flush, your limbs tangled, your sobs still hiccuping into the warm space between his chest and yours. it was too much. too much heat, too much depth, too much of him. but yet your legs squeezed tighter around his waist and you moaned louder. because you didn’t want him to stop.

he shifted above you, just enough to lift himself, to hover over you, arms braced on either side of your head. you blinked up at him, breath shallow, tears still slipping down your cheeks as your body pulsed with every slow, deep thrust. and then he said it, “eyes on me.” and your breath catches. your gaze flicked up through the blur of tears, locking on the only part of him visible—the narrow strip of skin behind the mask, the dark curls sticking to his temples with sweat, the gleam of his eyes watching you, staring at you.

and for second, you just knew. those eyes. that glint. that stupid look like he was always one step ahead of you. “lu…” your voice cracked. you swallowed. hard. “luigi…?” and right then, like you flipped a switch, his eyes lit up. smug, playful, and dangerous. you didn’t need to see his mouth to know he was grinning behind the mask. “hey, baby.”

your entire body tensed. rage. shock. humiliation. you started to push at his chest, your palms shoving up into him, struggling to sit up even though your legs were still wrapped around his waist. “get off—what the fuck, luigi—!”

“Nuh uh.” his hands gripped your wrists, slammed them back above your head, and he thrust, deep. you choked on a moan, your head falling back to the bed and that’s when you heard. your pussy, wet and filthy and squelching from how thoroughly he’d ruined you, echoing through the room. his voice dropped again. all cocky and cruel. “this pussy’s crying for me, and you wanna stop?”

you shook your head, sobbing, but your mouth betrayed you. “luigi—“ you moaned, helpless. he rutted into you again, harder. “that’s what i fuckin thought.” and you didn’t push again, just wrapped your arms back around his neck. you whimpered, breath caught in your throat, fingers trembling as they reached up and tugged the mask off. it hit the bed with a soft thud, and there he was.

luigi. his curls damp with sweat, jaw clenched, eyes glassy and wrecked, mouth parted like he was barely holding himself together, flushed all the way down his neck. his expression dazed and desperate as he stared down at you. you gasped. “s’too much, gigi—too much,” you cried, your voice high and broken, legs still locked around his waist even as your hands pushed weakly at his shoulders. ‘

he just leaned in, grabbed your jaw with one hand, and whispered against your lips. “i know, baby. i know,” he murmured, kissing you softly, sweetly, the contrast beyond cruel. “just a little more.” and then he fucked you. hard. his pace picked up, deeper than before, slamming into your soaked, overstimulated cunt with a rhythm that had your eyes fluttering closed and your back arching of the bed.

you moaned so loud it cracked. and then his mouth was back on you—kissing, sucking, and biting down the side of your throat like he couldn’t help it. his teeth grazed your skin before his lips closed over the same spot, sucking a mark so deep you could already feel the bruise forming. “mmmm, baby—just like that,” you whimpered, your voice catching as your legs tightened around him again.

his hand slipped down between your bodies, dragging over your slick folds until his fingers found your clit, and then he rubbed. fast. precise. and you jerked, a high, strangled gasp ripping from your chest. “lu—lu!” you sobbed. “i’m—i’m gonna cum again!”

“do it,” he growled, never slowing. “wanna feel you gush around me again, baby. give it to me.” his fingers moved even faster, his cock hitting deep it punched the air from your lungs. and then, you broke. your whole body locked up, your head thrown back as a scream ripped from your throat and you came so hard it soaked both of you, slick and shameless and loud, your pussy pulsing around his cock as you gushed.

he groaned, deep and ragged, his rhythm faltering. “fuck—gonna cum—gonna cum inside you—“

“no—no, you can’t—“ but your legs were still wrapped around him. tight. locked. pulling him in. “you’re saying no,” he panted, eyes lock on yours, “but your pussy’s holding me in like she’s begging for it.” you whimpered, helpless and overwhelmed, but you didn’t stop him.

and then he came. his head dropped to your neck, a long low moan tearing from his chest as he spilled deep inside you, his whole body shuddering as your cunt milked every last drop. and you didn’t let go. not your legs nor your arms. you just held onto him, shaking, panting and full.

you both stayed there for a moment—tangled, shaking, chests pressed together, breathless and broken. his cock twitched one last time inside you before he finally pulled out with a slick, slow drag. you gasped, hips jerking from the overstimulation, body too limp to flinch properly, and then you felt the rush. his cum, hot and thick, spilling out of you in slow, wet drips, smeared between your thighs and pooling under your ass like the final mark he’d be leaving on you.

luigi groaned, low and satisfied, as he looked down at the mess leaking from your wrecked pussy. “fuck,” he breathed, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “look at that.” you didn’t respond. couldn’t. you just whimpered and blinked up at the ceiling, eyes glassy, chest still heaving. he stood, tucking himself back into his boxers with that same casual arrogance like he hadn’t just ruined you.

“come on,” he said, grabbing what was left of you panties and stuffing them in his pocket. “we’re going back to mine.”

you scoffed. loud. sharp. exhausted. “as fucking if,” you snapped, voice rough as you tried to sit up, legs trembling as you struggled to reach for your skirt and yank it back down over your swollen, dripping cunt. “i can’t fucking stand you.” he didn’t flinch, not even a blink. just leaned against the edge of the bed, arms crossed, lips curled into a smug half smile as he stared you down like he already knew he’d get what he wanted.

“what’s wrong, baby?” he said, cocky and cruel. “i thought you said you wanted a sequel.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@undeliveredlu @palmersluvr @mangionesdaisy @soulsmangione

#luigi mangione thoughts #luigi mangione fic #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione smut #luigi thoughts #luigi mangione x yn #luigisbambinaaa

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thegalleonsnest · 8 months ago

Text

OK since I haven't seen too many people talk about this since twitter news usually strikes pretty fast over here whenever e'usk does anything ever, let me give ya'll the run down on two things that will go live on NOVEMBER 15TH and why people are mass migrating to Blue Sky once more; and provide resources to help protect your art and make the transition to Blue Sky easier if you so choose:

The Block function no longer blocks people as intended. It now basically acts as a glorified Mute button. Even when you block someone, they can still see your posts, but they can't engage in them. If your account is a Public one and not a Private one, people you blocked will see your posts.

They say because people can easily "share and hide harmful or private information about those they've blocked," they changed it this way for "greater transparency." When in reality, this is an extremely dangerous change, as the whole point of blocking is to cease interaction with people entirely for a plethora of reasons, i.e. stalking, harassment, spam, endangerment, or just plainly annoying and not wanting to see said tweets/accounts. or you know, for 18+ accounts who do not want minors interacting with them or their material at all (There is speculation saying these changes are specifically for Elon himself so he can do his own kind of stalking, and honestly, with the private likes change, it lowkey checks out in my opinion)

Also, this straight up goes against and may violate Apple and Google's app store policies and also is straight up illegal in Canada and probably other countries as well.

If this ACTUALLY goes through, twitter will only be available in select countries, probably exclusively in the US, which would collapse the site with the lost of users and stock, and probably be the last push it needs to kill the site. And if not, will be a very sad and exclusive platform made for specific kinds of people who line up with musk's line of thinking.

2. New policies regarding Grok AI and basically removing the option to opt out of Grok's information gathering to improve their software.

And anything you upload/post on the site is considered "fair game" with "royalty-free licenses" and they can do whatever they please with it. Primarily using any and all posts on twitter to train their Grok AI. A few months ago, there was a setting you can opt out of so they couldn't take anything you post to "improve" Grok, but I guess because so many people were opting out, they decided to make it mandatory as part of the policy change (This is mainly speculation from what I hear).

So this is considered the final straw for a LOT of people, especially artists who have been gripping on to twitter for as long as they can, but the AI nonsense is too much for people now, including myself. Lot's of people are moving to Blue Sky for good reason, and from personal experience, it is literally 10x better than twitter ever was, even before elon took over. There is no algorithm on there, and you can save "feeds" to your timeline to have a catered timelines to hop between if your looking for something specific like furry art or game dev stuff. It's taken them a bit to get off the ground and add much needed features, but it's genuinely so much better now

RESOURCES

Project Glaze & Cara

If you're an artist who's still on twitter or trying to ride it out for as long as you can for whatever reason you have, do yourself a favor and Glaze and/or Nightshade your work. Project Glaze is a free program designed to protect your art work from getting scrapped by AI machines. Glazing basically makes it harder to adapt and copy artwork that AI programs try to scan, while Nightshade basically "poisons" works to make AI libraries much more unstable and generate images completely off the mark. (These are layman's terms I'm using here, but follow the link to get more information)

The only problem with these programs is that they can be resource intensive for computers, and not every pc can run glaze. It's basically like rendering a frame/animation, you gotta let your pc sit there to get it glazed/nightshade, and depending on the intensity and power of your pc, this may take minutes to hours depending on how much you wanna protect your work.

HOWEVER, there are two alternatives, WebGlaze and Cara

WebGlaze is an in browser version of the program, so your pc doesn't have to do the heavy lifting. You do need to have an account with Glaze and be invited to use the program (I have not done so personally so I don't know much about the process.)

Cara is an artist focused site that doubles as both a portfolio site and a general social media platform. They've partnered with Glaze and have their own browser glazing called "Cara Glaze," and highly encourage users to post their work Glazed and are extremely anti-ai. You do get limited uses per day to glaze your work, so if you plan on doing a huge backlog uploading of your art, it may take awhile if your using just Cara Glaze.

Some twitter users have suggested glazing your art, cropping it, and overlaying it with a frame telling people to follow them elsewhere like on Bluesky. Here's a template someone provided if you wanna use this one or make your own.

Blue Sky Resources and Tips

So if your a twitter user and your about to realize the hellish task of refollowing a massive chunk of people you follow, have no fear, there's an extension called Sky Follower Bridge (Firefox & Chrome links). This is a very basic extension that makes it really easy to find people on Bluesky

It sorts them out by trying to find matching usernames, usernames in descriptions, or by screen name. It's not 100% perfect, there's a couple people I already follow on Blue Sky but the extension could not find them on twitter correctly, but I still found a huge chunk of people. Also if your worried that this extension is "iffy," they do have a github open with the source publicly available and the Blue Sky Team themselves have promoted the extension in their recent posts while welcoming new users to the platform.

FEEDS and LABELS

OK SO THE COOLEST PART ABOUT BLUESKY IS THE FEEDS SYSTEM. Basically if you've made a twitter list before, it's like that, but way more customizable and caters to specific types of posts/topics. Consolidating them into a timeline/feed that exclusively filled about those particular topics, or just people in general. There's thousands to pick and choose from!

Here's a couple of mine that I have saved and ready (down below). Some feeds I have saved so I can jump to seeing what my friends and mutuals are up to, and see their posts specifically so it doesn't get lost in reposts or other accounts, and also specialized feeds for browsing artists within the furry community.

The Furry Community feeds I have here were created by people who've built an algorithm to place any #furry or #furryart or other special tags like #Furrystreamer or #furrydev. They even have one for commissions, and yes you can say commissions on a post and not have it destroyed or shadow banned. You are safe.

If you want, and I highly recommend it to get visibility and check out a neat community, follow furryli.st to get added to their list and feeds. Once your on the list, even without a hashtag, you'll still pop up in their specialized feeds as just a member of the community there. There are plenty of other feeds out there besides this one, but I feel like a lot of people could use one like this. They even got ones for OC specific too I remember seeing somewhere.

And in terms of labels, they can be either ways to help label yourself with specific things or have user created accessibility settings to help better control your experience on Blue Sky.

And my personal favorite: Ai Imagery Labeler. Removes any AI stuff or hides it to the best of it's abilities, and it does a pretty good job, I have not seen anything AI related since subscribing to it.

Finally, HASHTAGS WORK & No need to censor yourself!

This is NOT like twitter or any other big named social media site AT ALL, so you don't have to work around words to get your stuff out there and be seen. There are literally feeds built around having commissions getting and art seen! Some people worry about bots and that has been a recent issue since a lot of people are migrating to Blue Sky, but it comes with any social media territory.

ALSO COOL PART,

you can search a hashtag on someone's profile and search exclusively on that profile as well! You can even put the hashtag in bio for easy access if you have a specialize tag like here on tumblr. OR EVEN BUILD YOUR OWN ART FEED FOR YOUR STUFF SPECIFICALLY!

So yeah, there's your quick run down about twitter's current burning building, how to protect your art, and what to do when you move to Blue Sky! Have fun!

#Twitter #Blue Sky #BlueSky #Cara #Project Glaze #Glazed Art #NightShade #Twitter Update #cara artists #art resource #resource #Online resource

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mariacallous · 3 months ago

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Amy Brown was not screaming. She was not crying. She was not throwing up.

But on Bluesky she said that she was doing all three, simultaneously. Brown’s husband visited a Walgreens while he was on a business trip in Ohio in February. He told her the prices were cheaper than in California, where they live.

The price disparity led her to post that she was screaming, crying, and throwing up. Several Bluesky users responded to tell her she was exaggerating, and that nobody could possibly care that much. They were right. She didn’t. She was referencing one of the internet’s common sayings, one used so often that it’s the name of a Spotify compilation.

What Brown experienced is familiar to any former Twitter/X user gathering their bearings on the young and decidedly more earnest social network Bluesky: a distinct humor-detection issue. Some users are unable to decipher jokes, or they are deliberately trying to miss the point to make a different one. Many Bluesky users migrated over from X, where the top DOGE who did Nazi-like salutes on television is live-tweeting the destruction of American infrastructure. That’s a different and much more serious problem. Still, the seeming obliviousness-slash-self-seriousness of many Bluesky users is grating when you’re not used to it.

“They're speaking a completely different language than me,” Brown says. “We're both speaking English, but I'm speaking internet.”

Brown, a former social media manager for Wendy’s, joined Bluesky in 2023. Her X account was banned after she impersonated Elon Musk for almost two hours on November 4, 2022.

The “incident,” as she calls it, happened shortly after X announced paid verification. Brown changed her profile picture to one of a balding entrepreneur and edited her display name to “Elon Musk (real).” She convincingly emulated his voice, posting musings like “my wife left me lol” and “my penis is NOT weird.”

She didn’t know whether she’d be banned for her behavior on X, but she was OK with the possibility. “It's like, Elon's already the main character on this platform every day, and now he owns it. Do I really want to be here anymore?” she says.

While you can still find plenty of this kind of humor on Bluesky, there are a surprising number of people genuinely confused by it. There are several factors to blame here.

First is the clash between former users of X and Facebook. Anyone who logged their time on the Everything App is familiar with the language of Twitter: posts steeped in irony, in-group references, platform-specific history. When they left X, they brought all that wisecracking, insidery drollery with them. They even brought their pig-shitting-on-its-own-testicles JPEGs.

Meanwhile, former power users of Facebook, Instagram, and Threads are accustomed to their own barometers of funny. While Twitter felt like an intentional way to primarily interact with mostly strangers, and a familiar face might cause the user a moment of horror, Facebook was the opposite—at least initially, before it became Click FarmVille for engagement bait and advertisements for oddly specific custom novelty tees.

Bluesky also got a big boost in users from mainstream television: MSNBC ran multiple segments about the social network, including bumps on Morning Joe, The Weekend, All In With Chris Hayes, and The Rachel Maddow Show. Regular MSNBC viewers who took the plunge might not be as familiar with the tenor and style of online conversation on the smart-ass social web.

The lack of humor detection is made worse by tech: algorithmically curated content, à la Bluesky’s Discover feed, surfaces random posts to random people. A Maddow referral on Bluesky might see an ex-Twitter user’s vivid description of what they’d do to the Hamburglar if they saw him in person and react with genuine horror and confusion. It’s also PEBKAC issue—problem exists between keyboard and chair. You cannot force a person to understand a joke. The only action more futile is to get mad about it.

If these disparate groups have anything in common, it’s disgust with gigantic tech companies led by unpalatable CEOs, paired with a yearning to post in the lingua franca of their previously beloved platforms. Everyone’s brains are broken in different ways. I empathize with those who don’t get the joke. But I empathize more with the people trying to make them.

To paraphrase an Axios story from last year, America is in the midst of a gullibility crisis. People can’t tell what’s AI, a manipulated screenshot, a joke, or a lie. Many of us have opened up our relationship with reality. And the political climate has exacerbated the issue, according to Josh Gondelman, a comedian who previously worked as a producer and writer on Desus & Mero and wrote for Last Week Tonight With John Oliver.

“Since Trump’s run for the presidency, there has been a rapidly accelerating not-getting-jokes on the internet,” Gondelman says.

By Gondelman’s recollection, Bluesky hit a point where it was populated enough with active users to be both fun and useful at some point within the past six months. “But that also means it hit the tipping point where it’s populated enough to be annoying,” he says, laughing.

Mattie Lubchansky, an Ignatz Award–winning cartoonist, author, and illustrator, describes herself as “a primarily joke-posting kind of person.” The humor-detection issue of Bluesky is part of a broader phenomenon she has observed, which she calls “riff collapse.”

The day after the 2025 Oscars, Lubchansky posted: “i haven't seen any of the oscar movies this year, nor have i seen any movie ever made. i'm afraid that the people trapped inside the screen will be angry at me for not helping them escape; and once they are out i will be punished. anyway, here's how the awards validated an opinion i already had.”

The replies that followed were earnest opinions and arguments about Oscar-nominated films. Some people asked for movie recommendations. Some unironically recommended she check out The Purple Rose of Cairo. Only a handful of people seem to have understood that she was joking. Lubchansky says she sees this type of “riff collapse” happen daily, and she thinks it’s because of the influx of new users from Meta and X.

But the frustrations around new social platforms isn’t new. Networks will continue to pop up, ideally, and longtime users will continue to be annoyed by newbies.

In the early-to-mid-1990s, people often first accessed the internet when they arrived at college. Around September of every year, a bunch of new users would log on to their university’s network and start poking around the forums and discussion groups.

“The internet old timers would be very frustrated, because the new people didn’t know the social norms,” says technologist, writer, and former WIRED contributor Anil Dash. “Exactly the phenomenon we’re seeing right now.” September, for the most online netizens, was a dreaded time of the year. AOL opened the floodgates, allowing anyone to access the internet at any time. AOL’s bloom coincided with the Telecommunications Act of 1996, which deregulated the telco industry and brought internet connectivity to homes and institutions across the US.

This period was called the Eternal September, with “wave after wave of newbies getting online,” Dash says.

The pattern has repeated itself with LiveJournal and even Twitter. Actor and investor Ashton Kutcher appeared on CNN in 2009 and challenged the network to see whose account could hit 1 million Twitter followers first. (Kutcher won.) The stunt led to a rush of users flooding the microblogging platform.

Lubchansky thinks this moment presents an opportunity for people to examine their reply etiquette.

“Read the whole post before you respond. Take a moment to respond. And if you're going to respond with a joke, and we're not friends already, go look and see if somebody's made it already,” Lubchansky says. “Because there's a really good chance they have.”

Meanwhile, Brown considers the block function on Bluesky to be a favor to its recipient.

“If someone comes into my comments and they just really, really don't understand, usually I just block them so we don't run into each other again,” she says. “No hard feelings.” It’s a different approach than the norm on X, where quote-tweets viciously insulting the original post are part of the platform’s noxious fabric.

“I'm not trying to repeat the part of Twitter where the internet makes me mad every day,” Brown says.

Satirical site The Onion has the fifth largest Bluesky account, with over 1.2 million followers. Onion CEO Ben Collins doesn’t mind people replying to jokes in earnest. On the contrary, he says it’s “the funniest part of the internet.”

“It means more people are seeing your jokes,” he says. “If everyone is immediately breaking out into uproarious applause at your joke, your audience is too small.”

As someone who regularly used and posted on Twitter for years, I share the frustration when one of my jokey posts is misread or taken as fact. But it also strikes me as unfair to shame someone because they haven’t been slamming their head on the same wall of the internet that I have.

Not everyone crawled here from the radioactive sewer of X dot com. As we all get settled along with our new neighbors, it might be helpful to remember that. If not, at least Bluesky has very robust blocking features.

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httpsserene · 1 year ago

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I love your entire page, so I was thrilled to see that your requests are open. May I request a story with Daniel Ricciardo x Reader? Perhaps something where the reader is experiencing a moment of low self-esteem, comparing herself to his ex, and feeling down since they've recently started dating, yet the fans want his ex back. When Danny is dominant it makes me melt so perhaps a smut that is center on body worshipping yet leads to crazy back shots/missionary. He made you come multiple times and despite you trying to tap out , he’s not stopping anytime soon creating a big creamy mess 🫠

httpsserene's 2k Special | T.D.R.E.

synopsis: she’s the most-hated formula one wag. at first, she was optimistic, the fans would eventually get over it and maybe even start liking her—but she now knows that was a pretty naive thought. she’s constantly compared to Daniel’s ex-girlfriend—she’s not as pretty as her, she’s not as supportive as her, she’s not as popular as her, etc. in a moment of low self-esteem—she breaks and thinks maybe the fans are right. Daniel, with a sixth sense of knowing when you’ve lost your mind, comes home and sees you gathering every belonging of yours that’s migrated to his apartment like you’re breaking up with him. he tries to change your mind with his words, but that doesn’t quite reassure you completely; so he has no choice but to do it with his actions, too.

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. okay it's a couple hours late, but i was hit with a little creative genius and i think you guys will really enjoy this one! and it's the longest one too! an entire five-thousand words wow. aren't you glad i added more to this?

read the rest of the 2k special uploads here.

tomorrow 2 — 𝐝𝐫. 𝟑 daniel ricciardo x fem!black!reader 5k words. explicit sexual content. no beta we die like men. angst with a happy ending. hurt/comfort. dom/sub undertones. arguing. breaking up/making up. those three little words. attempt at humor (a lil bit). implied subspace. insecure!reader. body worship. vaginal sex. oral sex (female receiving). online hate. overstimulation. protected sex. aftercare.

You’re trending on Twitter. No—not for one of your TikToks that you hope went viral, but under the hashtag #breakupwithherdaniel. Fans have decided to start a movement to make signs to take to the next Grand Prix, with pictures of your face posted next to that hashtag. In all of the tweets, they’re commenting on how they wished Daniel and his ex were still together, or comparing you to her, and saying that you’re toxic—you! In this situation, where none of the people online personally know you and take to bashing you on the internet; you are the toxic one! And that’s the last straw. You start packing your shit up into bags and whatever boxes you can find. A large amount of your belongings have migrated to Daniel’s apartment, even if you don’t officially live with him. You’ve been dating him for just over six months, and the entire time your relationship has been public his fans have harassed you.

They prefer his ex over you, it’s that simple. It probably doesn’t help that you’re not like one of the white models everybody thinks f1 drivers should date, but enough is enough. It didn’t bother you at first, you thought with just a little time everyone would calm down but the opposite has happened. They’ve only gotten worse and things have escalated to the point where it’s affecting your career and—you can’t take it anymore. And, maybe they’re right. Daniel doesn’t deserve to date a girl who can’t take the harsh eye of the media and fans. He’d be better off without you, and he might certainly be better off with his ex. She was there in his darkest times and his brightest successes. They ended on good terms so with a little charm, Daniel wouldn’t have a problem with getting back with her, surely.

You’re throwing your bags on the living room couch, pulling a suitcase you left here from when you last traveled with him to throw your shoes into. And then, you hear the door open.

Daniel’s happy voice carries to you from the entryway, “Baby, I’m home! I stopped at the store to pick up a slice of your favorite cake, because I know you’ve been needing some cheering up—”

You hear his steps halt as he sees you in the living room, bags and boxes filled to the brim with your stuff.

“Baby?” Daniel asks, “What’s this about? This is late for it to be spring cleaning.”

You shake your head, swallowing softly as you turn to meet his eyes, “I’m leaving, Daniel.”

“What?” Daniel says confused.

“Don’t make it any more difficult than it needs to be,” you start, unable to fight back your tears any longer, “Just let me get my stuff and leave.”

Daniel rushes to you, pulling you to look at him, holding your arms still when you try to push him away from you.

“You’ve got to give me more than that. You’re leaving—why? Is it something I did? Did I say something? How long have you felt like this? I could’ve—I can fix it, baby. Don’t leave me,” Daniel pleads, his own eyes radiating how hurt, confused, and disbelieving he feels, “I thought we were strong? We’re the closest to being perfect, I thought. We barely argue; and even when we do it’s resolved properly. I don’t yell, I don’t talk to other women, I don’t ignore your calls or messages, I’m not possessive, I’m not crazy–what can I do? For you to stay, what can I do?”

“Nothing, Daniel. You can’t change my mind. But—it’s not your fault, okay? It’s me,” you cry harder when Daniel scoffs at your response, “I’m serious, Danny. It’s my fault. I can’t take it anymore okay? You’re better off without me; I’m a distraction, I’m not as supportive as I should be, I’m not your type–you’d just perform and be happier without me, okay?”

“Fuck no,” Daniel emphasizes, “Who the hell is telling you that? Because I know you seriously don’t believe that. You’re the best thing to happen to me in my entire life, baby. You’re not a distraction, you support me tirelessly, and you sure as hell are my type. I can’t keep my hands off of you, you scold me all the time for that so, how can you say that ‘you’re not my type?’ I’m the happiest I’ve ever been with you, ask anybody, baby.”

You groan angrily, “Not anybody! Have you asked your fucking fans? They sure as hell think that I’m the devil reincarnated. I can’t do anything publicly without being verbally harassed for it. I can’t dress the way I want to, I can’t act the way I want to, and I can’t even go to work! Your little fangirls are affecting my career—and I can’t do it anymore. They’ve won. I can’t take the judgment anymore, not for me just existing. You’d be happier with your ex, just like they want you to be.”

You and Daniel stare at each other silently, the air tense.

“What do you mean,” Daniel pauses, his jaw tightening, “What do you mean they’re affecting your career?”

“They’re threatening to fire me because of my image. They’re saying I’m smearing the company's appearance,” you sigh out, picking at your cuticles anxiously. Daniel grabs your hands, stopping you.

“I’m going to kill them, baby–”

“Daniel!” you cut him off, aghast.

“No, I don’t care,” He dismisses, “The nerve of them to convince you that you’re not good enough for me. I should’ve kept asking you if you were bothered by the negative attention, but ever since you told me that you could handle it, I never checked in. And, I failed to see that it was getting worse. Worse enough to make you think that you need to leave to escape it. I’m going to embarrass those fans publicly and I’m going to get the team to back me up. As far as your job, I always hated them anyway. I never liked how they would deny your vacation time even though you had the days—you should quit.”

You stare at him deadpan, “Daniel Ricciardo. I’m not quitting my job and I am also still leaving.”

“Mhm, no,” Daniel scoffs hysterically, “You’re not breaking up with me. And, you would have a better reason to quit, if you stayed with me. I’ll retire you and make you my trophy wife, please. Seriously, babe. Don’t leave. I should’ve dealt with the fans earlier, I know—it’s my fault that it even reached this point. Please, just stay with me.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur, crumbling into tears again, “They all seem to think your ex is a better fit and…I think I agree with them.”

Daniel gathers you into his arms, tucking you into his shoulder, “Baby, I broke up with her for a reason. And, I’m glad I did. All of those chronically online fans have no clue about why I broke up with her. I couldn’t imagine going back into that relationship, especially now that I’ve found you. Let me prove it to you, baby.

You sob, “How are you going to prove anything to me right now? Can I just be dramatic for a little longer?”

He laughs, giddy at the sound of your usual antics, “Well, I am going to set the media on fire with the language I use to address how the world has been disrespecting you. But first, I’m going to take you to bed and remind you what you’d be missing out on if you left. What other man could learn to know you as intimately as I do, hm? C’mon, baby—let me prove it to you. Let your body decide.”

Leaning back to look at him through your tears, you think, fuck it, why not?

Daniel presses you into the bed; you whine out desperately when he breaks the kiss, your eyes focused on the plush warmth of his lips as you try to chase them. The eagerness of your actions only dawns on you as you see his lips shift into a smiling laugh then, the embarrassment washes over you; honestly, you think, you can’t act like you can’t live without having his lips touching yours—he might find your yearning repulsive. Did his ex act like this for him? What if that’s why he broke up with her—

“Heyheyhey—don’t hide from me, baby,” Daniel coos concerned, his hand gently coaxing you to turn your head and meet his eyes, you didn’t even notice when you moved to hide your face with the pillow; he continues, “Where’d you go just then, pretty girl? Please tell me, baby, don’t hold it in.”

You meet his troubled gaze, and the love and care you see pouring out causes fresh tears to dance across your waterline. Through your blurry sight, you see Daniel’s brow furrow saddeningly as he carefully pulls you up into a sitting position and holds you tightly as you cry into his shoulder. His left hand massages the back of your neck, and his right hand finds a calming rhythm as he rubs your back. Your tears taper out quicker, and you wonder if you’ve exhausted their supply from the crying you’ve done today.

You draw back from his embrace, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand, and your voice shakes and cracks as you begin to speak, “I’ve never been this insecure about myself. I couldn’t give a single fuck about what people say or think about me. But, today? It was just too much, Danny. Seeing all of your fans tear down every aspect of me; my personality, my looks, my body—why? And, they’re doing it under the reasoning that, I’m not good for you. Like, you’re not a grown man, who can decide who he wants to date? I support you quietly and loudly and’ll do it forever, but that’s not enough for them. And, today, it felt like it would never be enough.

“So, when I saw them making signs, t-to…to encourage you to break up with me,” Daniel muffles a sound of hurt in his chest, “I was humiliated. I-I, didn’t want that sort of attention for you, they should be focused on your racing, not your undeserving girlfriend. And, I thought I’d make it easy for you and leave.”

“Baby, no…”

“You’re such a good boyfriend, Daniel. It would be so much easier for you to end this relationship and go back to your ex, or date some other girl that satisfies you and your fans—”

“Babe, no,” Daniel cuts you off, his tone hardened, “The only person that needs to be satisfied with you is me. And, I am. The opinions of those fucking idiots don’t matter to me, and they shouldn’t matter to you. Because that’s all they are: opinions, and they’re absolutely stupid opinions, at that. They’re comments have done the complete opposite of convincing me to leave you. They’ve shown me that I need to let you know how much I want you with me—they’ve made me realize that I need to let you know that I love you.”

Your eyes widen, your breath stuttering. It’s the first time, he’s said it. Daniel loves you.

Sobbing softly, you murmur, “I hope you’re not only saying those three words because you think it’s going to make me happy. Because, I do love you, too.”

Daniel laughs wetly. “I’m saying that I love you now because you need to know that. I would’ve preferred to say it under different circumstances but, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m ridiculously in love with you. And—fuck everybody who’s saying you’re not good enough for me. If anything, I’m not good enough for you. I haven’t even won you a trophy, yet.”

You stare at him in disbelief, “Shut the fuck up. You’re everything to me. You could be driving the slowest car on the grid and I would still be celebrating your last-place finishes like you’ve won the championship.”

Daniel stares at you silently and you nearly fear that you’ve broken him. He sighs out lovingly before, leaning down and pressing kisses across your entire face to wash away your tear tracks. He finishes with a barely there kiss to the tip of your nose and asks quietly, “Let me show you that I love you. I don’t think saying it is enough.”

You look at him. You find what you’re looking for because you agree, “Okay.”

Daniel perks up, “Okay?”

You nod, slowly sliding down to rest on your back against the bed like you were before. “Yes.”

Your boyfriend shifts to kneel in between your legs, his hands slipping beneath the hem of your sweater, and once he gets confirmation from you, he smoothly pulls it off of you, dropping it off the bedside. His hands spread across the expanse of your abdomen and move to rest on your waist as he buries himself in the length of your neck. He nips kisses and presses of tongue along your brown skin, surprising you often with the ache of teeth and suction to bloom bruises. When he slides downwards, he paints your collarbone and decolletage loosely, the irritated flesh only sends flares of pleasure across your nerves. Daniel huffs in frustration as the straps of your bra disrupt the smooth skin across your shoulders, and he pulls you upwards to arch into him as he slips his hand underneath to unclasp the closure. You’re brain comes online to help him remove the offending fabric as you shrug out of the straps and desperately fling the bra to a corner of the room you can’t care to look at.

Daniel hums thankfully and resumes tracing along your shoulder, down your arms, and to the bones of your wrists and tips of your fingers with gentle hands followed by his lips.

He swallows before speaking, “Whenever you’re splayed out so prettily underneath me, I forget how to act. The cloudy look in your eyes, your chest covered with my love, the muscles in your shoulders and arms relaxed and syrupy—so fuckin’ sexy, baby.”

You can’t find the words to respond to him because your entire body sings out when Daniel’s lips suction around your nipple. You feel his tongue swirl around, wetting it before his teeth join in and scrape softly against the sensitive bud. He releases you and even though your eyelids have fluttered shut at the feeling, you feel him watching you as your back rises off the bed and your head falls back. His hand finds its place right underneath your breasts, and he pushes you back down into the mattress and holds you there as he continues the assault of his lips on your chest. You can only cry out with every tug of his teeth, every suckle of his lips on the surrounding skin, whimpers choked down as his mouth ravages you entirely. Your hand flies to Daniel’s hair for purchase, and to press his head further into your chest, but he pulls away.

“Forgive me—but I love your chest, baby. I love how you let me take naps on them and play with my hair, I love the feeling of them in my hand, I love making you scream every time I play with them. And, you taught me that the only answer to ass versus boobs is both of them. Because, I would willingly suffocate in either of them, and all of you.”

Your chest heaves as you try to regain some air in your lungs, but Daniel doesn’t let you breathe for a second, “One day, I hope you let me fuck your pretty chest.”

Your mouth drops open, as you flounder for the air and words required to respond to his statement.

“Another time, though. May I take off your pants, baby? I need to fuck you.”

“Yesyes—please, hurry up,” you rush out, already moving to shimmy out of your bottoms, Daniel tugging them off roughly when they get caught around your ankles. The strength he uses slides you down the bed a little, and you can’t help but muffle a gasp underneath your hand.

He pulls your hand from your mouth in an instant, “No. Not tonight. I let you get away with hiding your sounds from me before, but I need to know how good I’m making you feel,” he pauses to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist and continues, “Be as loud as you want, love.”

You nod jerkily, and Daniel lowers your arm to rest against the bed carefully, before he shuffles down the bed, resting on his stomach and spreading your legs to drape along his shoulders. He starts with your right leg; nipping at the bone of your ankle before following with a soothing touch of his lips, and moving upwards, biting and kissing along the muscles of your calf, the inside of your knee. He slows when he reaches the plush meet of your thigh, taking his time biting the muscle and laving over the teeth marks he leaves with his tongue. He repeats the treatment along your left leg, ignoring how he can see the wetness dripping out of you, darkening the fabric of your panties.

“Love your legs, baby,” Daniel breaths shakily, “Calves, and thighs, muscle, and all plush skin. If I could choose how to go out, it would be in between them. Doesn’t matter if they’re around my waist, or my head—it’s fucking paradise, baby.”

Your thighs shudder as if they’ve heard his words, and Daniel notices immediately. His hands move to grasp them and let his thumbs dig into the fresh marks he’s added against your brown skin. You keen airily, your thighs attempting to shut, but Daniel’s hands keep you spread with little effort. He leans down and hides his smile by pressing his mouth to your panties. He proceeds to noisily kiss along your covered cunt, dragging his tongue and nose through the soaked fabric, humming amusedly when your hips buck down onto him, one of his hands shifting to press your pelvis to the mattress.

You’re mortified. Daniel’s pretty much making out with your cunt over your panties, and he seems to be enjoying it as much as you if the way his hips are rocking along the bed is any telling when you raise your head to stare down at him. His eyes shut as he loses himself between your legs; he looks blissed out and you drop your head back against the mattress, bringing your hand to tangle in the mess of his curls. He pulls away with a grunt and you tug at his hair annoyed, sitting up slightly to see what he stopped for—

His eyes are wild, drenched with lust. Daniel doesn’t waste time pulling your panties off, roughly tugging the fabric covering your cunt to the side, tucking it in the dip between your groin and thigh. You see his eyes roll back slightly at the sight of you before he shuts them and dives forward to bring his mouth down on your cunt. His tongue pushes inside of you sloppily and his nose makes sure your clit is always receiving attention. The only option you have is to choke on your moans and grasp for stability in his hair and the sheets of the bed. Your tummy undulates at the pleasure racketing up your spinal cord, it’s too much to process already. And in a split-second, Daniel’s tongue is exchanged for two of his fingers, your cunt thoroughly soaked with a mix of your wetness and his spit, and the stretch is mild, more of a welcomed soreness than pain. Daniel’s eyes open to watch your face closely, you’re too busy moaning to verbally assure him to continue, but he understands (the continuous desperate roll of your hips against his grasp is a helpful clue).

He massages his fingers into you rapidly, brushing along the sensitive wall along the top of your cunt—and it dawns on you very quickly that you are going to cum. He must see the realization wash over your face, or through the signs of your body, but he avoids your g-spot to scissor his fingers inside of you to stretch you out, a third joining the rest when you huff down at him angrily. The new stretch quiets you, loud whines and moans hushed for a moment as you savor the ache. Yet, you quickly hunger for more, unapproving of the sudden gentleness Daniel exhibits.

“Danny, please,” you cry, “C’mon—fuck me, already. ‘m gonna cum.”

He pulls his fingers from the grasp of your vagina and manhandles you onto your front, stomach flat against the bed. With firm hands, he pulls your hips upwards, one hand sliding down your back to deepen the arch and push your ass further out. The insecurity and shyness you had earlier have dissipated; you’d like to be fucked, now. You spread your knees wider and rock back even more.

“Fuck,” Daniel croaks out, and he rushes to grab a condom from the nightstand. You’re sure he’s relatively quick about the entire ordeal; of losing his pants, grabbing the condom, and rolling it on himself, but it feels like ages, and you can’t help but huff out angrily. Thankfully, you feel his left hand come back to rest on your ass and feel the head of his cock tap along your cunt.

Your hole parts for him prettily and Daniel sinks in smoothly, not stopping until your ass meets his hips. You whine softly, the ache of him finding a home within you will never lose its luster. Daniel shudders behind you, the grip of his hand on your ass shaking—his breathing heavy as it echoes around the room.

“Fuck,” Daniel moans again, “Love your cunt, pretty girl. Hot, wet, and tight,” he falls forward, and nuzzles into the hair at the nape of your neck, before pressing a kiss at the back of your neck, and rising again, “‘s so good…I-I can’t find the words right now.”

You giggle softly into the bed and Daniel takes the green light when you press back against him. He begins to thrust into you, hard enough to punch the breath out of your lungs. He’s never fucked you this forcefully before; his motions are erratic, yet somehow he’s nailing the spot inside of you with every other pass of his hips. The sound of your skin meeting manages to be hidden by the screams and moans you manage to release when you find enough air in your lungs. Daniel’s other hand wraps around your front and presses down on your pelvis, tightening your inner walls. And, your vision whites out.

Your legs give out and you feel yourself slouch into the mattress, but Daniel is quick to hold your hips up for you and continues to rail into you, not allowing you any respite. You can hear yourself babbling, but you can’t make out what you’re saying. The heat of Daniel’s chest radiates over your back and you feel his breath wash over your spine, his endearments and praise you hear but can’t understand as the pleasure has blinded your senses. What you can feel, is how his thrusts continue and don’t slow.

You regain control of your body when he rotates you onto your back, he only pulls out briefly while he grabs a pillow to shove underneath your hips before he falls back inside of you. At this angle, Daniel feels larger than life, knocking against buttons inside of you you’re sure he’s only ever discovered. It’s too much. He fucks into you slowly, the press of his cock slow but strong, the motion pushing you up the bed slightly.

You gasp, moans erupting out of you when you attempt to speak. You manage to keep your eyes open long enough to look at Daniel and see the pleased smile on his face. He moves one hand from your hip to cradle your cheek and swipes a tear that escaped from the corner of your eye away.

“Oh,” Daniel hushes you softly, “Gone for me already, aren’t you?”

“T-t-oo much,” you stutter, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth, “ feels s’good.”

He chuckles quietly, the noise fading into a moan as your cunt clenches around him, “Too much or it feels good, pretty girl? You’re going to have to pick one.”

Daniel’s thrusts get rougher, and he stops pulling out nearly all the way and focuses on digging into you deeper; making sure to drag himself along that place inside you with every thrust. Your scream breaks as soon as it leaves your mouth, the unyielding stimulation feels white hot. You take a shaky hand and drag it down Daniel’s chest, from his tattoos to his abdomen, and push against him while simultaneously trying to raise your hips away from his.

“No, baby,” Daniel coos down at you, knocking your hand away from his abs, and continuing to press inside of you, pulling your hips down, “Don’t run from me. Take it. You know what to say if it’s too much for you.”

You do know what to say. But, the knot inside your tummy starts tightening again, and the overwhelming amount of pleasure isn’t too much. You can take it. Daniel rocks down to kiss you, but you’re too out of it to exactly figure out how to make your lips work, and his eyes shine. He moves to bite at your neck, you feel him speaking against your skin and it takes a few listens to realize he saying, “I love you,” over and over again. His thrusts get choppier and you know he’s close when his hand slips down to play with your clit. This orgasm feels different than the first. It feels like it burns your nerve endings with just how powerfully pleasurable it is. You can vaguely feel Daniel collapse against you as he rides out his climax, but you’re more concerned with the absolute ecstasy you find yourself floating in.

You blink a few times and you fail to adequately process what’s going on around you. You feel Daniel pull out of you, rubbing soothingly along your hips and thighs as he massages any soreness away. You can’t make out his words, but they sound warm and loving making you feel light and fluffy. You don’t recall him moving from the bed, but he suddenly has a warm rag pressed against your inner thighs to clean you up, and your ruined panties are gone. When he tries to wipe against your cunt, you slam your legs shut, jerking away from him. He doesn’t force your legs back open, but he eventually manages to clean up enough of your wetness that he’s comfortable to wait until you’re clear-minded.

Daniel pulls you onto his lap and continues murmuring words of affection into the air, you feel them vibrate through his chest. You begin to rise out of whatever state you were in and shift in his lap, “Danny,” you try to speak, but your voice cracks roughly. He’s quick to grab a bottle of water on the nightstand and opens it for you, helping you drink as your arms are still too shaky.

“When did you grab the water?” you question softly, you down nearly the entire bottle, and move to snuggle back into his chest, bringing your shaky hand up to trace his tattoos.

“You don’t remember?” Daniel questions calmly, watching as you shake your head in dissent, “I think you were a little out of it after that orgasm. You melted into the bed—I couldn’t get you to say anything.”

“Oh,” you offer, looking up at him to read his face. You find nothing but love, so you figure it can’t be a bad thing.

“Do you know what subspace is?”

“No?”

Daniel nods understandingly and changes the subject, “I got this piece of cake for you earlier at the store. Can you eat it for me now and drink a little more water, baby? I’ll put on that crime show you like too.”

You agree to eat and drink as long as Daniel does too. Your hand shakes as you try to bring the fork to your mouth so you let Daniel feed you, he seems more than happy to do it for you. You kind of like it anyway, him taking care of you. You feel like your normal self halfway through the second episode of the show playing on the TV. You slide off of Daniel’s lap to sit beside him and focus on the show, pulling the blanket up to cover your legs, the plot of the show finally being processed by your brain.

“I’m going to go grab something from the living room, okay?” Daniel checks in on you, waiting for you to answer affirmatively, “Finish up that cake for me, love.”

You hum, grabbing the container from him and continuing to munch along as Daniel does what he needs to. He reenters the room with one of the boxes you had packed away. Daniel doesn’t look at you, he just opens up the box and starts putting all your belongings back to where they used to be. He pulls one of your heavier sweaters out of the box and moves to hang it up in the closet.

“No,” you say, voice scratchy. You watch Daniel turn to face you slowly like he thinks you’re going to tell him that you’re still leaving,

“That sweater doesn’t belong in the closet. It gets folded and placed in the bottom row of the dresser.”

Daniel sighs relieved and smiles at you, “Okay. What about this one too, where does that go?”

#serene’s chapters.#httpss :// 2k special #f1 x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 smut #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 x black!reader #f1 x female reader #daniel ricciardo x black!reader #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1 x you #formula 1 x black!reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: dr.

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coriihanniee · 2 days ago

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TERMS AND CONDITIONS APPLY! - myung jaehyun smau

𓂃۶ৎ SYNOPSIS : You’re a barista at a late-night café, and Jaehyun is your most annoying regular—flirty, sarcastic, and always changing your chalkboard menu. When a viral thread about “the hot guy who argues over almond milk” boosts the café’s popularity, the owner offers a “Fake Relationship Discount” to capitalize on the hype. You and Jaehyun are recruited to pretend you’re a couple online. Too bad it starts feeling a little too real...

CHAPTER 5 : myungnyanghakz meet & greet

The usual quiet hum of Tré Seoul had been obliterated by what could only be described as controlled chaos. Every table was occupied, the line stretched nearly to the door, and the air buzzed with anticipation thick enough to cut with a butter knife. Your regulars, the night owls, the insomniacs, the university students cramming for exams, had been replaced by an entirely different demographic : teenage girls clutching their phones like lifelines, college students who'd clearly never ordered anything stronger than a frappuccino, and influencer wannabes documenting their "aesthetic café experience" for their three followers.

"This is a fucking nightmare," you muttered under your breath, steam wand hissing as you worked through your fifteenth order in twenty minutes. Sweat beaded at your hairline despite the chill seeping through the windows.

Taesan appeared beside you, carrying a tray stacked precariously high with dirty mugs. His usually confident demeanor was slightly rattled, probably from the table of college girls who'd been "discreetly" photographing him for the past hour. "Did you know there are people camping outside? Actual camping chairs. One girl's been there since 4pm."

"Fantastic." You slammed the portafilter into the espresso machine with more force than necessary. "Riwoo better be getting hazard pay for dealing with the register." You glanced towards the front where Riwoo was handling orders with his characteristic gentle smile, seemingly unbothered by the fact that half his customers were more interested in his face than the menu. Someone had already started a Twitter thread about "the cute cashier with the soft voice."

Through the service window, you caught sight of Leehan restocking pastries, his usual serene expression replaced by something bordering on panic. A group of girls had migrated to that side of the café, phones trained on him as they whispered about his "ethereal visual" and "model proportions." The poor guy looked like he'd rather be wrestling a bear than navigating the crowd of customers who kept asking if he knew when "the YouTube boys" would arrive, or trying to get his Twitter handle.

The bell above the entrance chimed, and the café's energy shifted palpably. Conversations stuttered to a stop, phones materialized from pockets and purses, and you felt your stomach drop somewhere around your ankles.

Myungnyanghakz had arrived.

Woonhak entered first, his bright smile faltering slightly as dozens of phones turned in his direction. Sungho followed, attempting to maintain some semblance of normalcy as he scanned the packed interior. And then Jaehyun stepped through the doorway, and you swore the temperature in the room rose five degrees from the collective intake of breath.

He wore a black wool coat over dark jeans, his hair styled in that effortlessly tousled manner that probably took thirty minutes to achieve. His eyes swept the café before landing on you behind the counter, and that infuriating smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Well," he said, his voice carrying over the excited whispers, "looks like we've caused quite the stir."

The reaction was instantaneous. Phones shot up like a field of digital flowers, camera flashes sparked across the room, and the chatter erupted into a symphony of barely contained squeals. Someone near the window knocked over their chair in their haste to get a better angle.

"Oh, this is perfect," you groaned, turning back to the espresso machine as if focusing on steaming milk could somehow transport you to a different dimension.

"Excuse me, excuse me," Jaehyun's voice grew closer as he navigated through the crowd, accepting selfie requests with practiced ease. "Just trying to get to the counter, don't mind me."

You kept your back turned, hoping against hope that ignoring him might make him evaporate. No such luck.

"Well, if it isn't Seoul's most famous barista," he said, sliding up to the counter with that insufferable confidence. "Miss me?"

"Like a root canal," you replied without turning around, but you could practically hear his grin widening.

A particularly enthusiastic fan pressed closer to the counter, phone extended. "Oh my god, can you two recreate the scene from the vlog? The one where you're arguing about the latte art?"

"There was no arguing about latte art," you said flatly, finally turning around. "There was him being pretentious about foam patterns and me trying to do my job."

"See? This is the content we need," another voice chimed in from somewhere behind the wall of phones.

Jaehyun leaned against the counter, perfectly at ease despite being recorded from seventeen different angles. "Come on, don't be shy. Your public awaits."

"My public," you said, gesturing vaguely at the crowd, "can order a drink or leave."

The crowd tittered with laughter, eating up every word of the exchange. Someone in the back called out, "This is better than Netflix!"

Taesan appeared at your elbow, looking harried. "We're out of oat milk, the espresso machine is making that grinding noise again, and I think someone's livestreaming from table six."

"Of course they are," you sighed, turning to grab another bag of coffee beans from the top shelf. The step stool had been moved, probably by some customer trying to get the perfect overhead shot, and you stretched up on your toes, fingertips barely grazing the bag.

The ceramic floor, slick from spilled drinks and the constant traffic, chose that precise moment to become your enemy. Your foot slipped, balance deserting you as you pitched backward, arms windmilling uselessly.

Instead of meeting the unforgiving floor, you found yourself caught against something solid and warm. Strong arms wrapped around your waist, steadying you as your heart hammered against your ribs.

"Careful there," Jaehyun's voice was closer than it had any right to be, his breath warm against your ear. "Can't have Seoul's favorite barista taking tumble."

You were acutely aware of several things at once, the way his cologne mixed with the café's coffee-scented air, how his hands remained steady at your waist even after you'd regained your footing, and the fact that approximately fifty phones were currently documenting this moment for posterity.

"I'm fine," you said, though your voice came out smaller than intended. You turned in his arms, a mistake, because now you were facing him, could see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes, could count his ridiculously long eyelashes if you were so inclined.

"Are you?" His voice had lost its teasing edge, replaced by something softer, more genuine. "You've been running around like crazy since we got here."

The noise of the café seemed to fade into background static. The crowd, the cameras, the chaos, all of it blurred at the edges as Jaehyun's thumb traced a barely-there circle against your hip where his hand still rested.

"This is insane," you whispered, though whether you meant the crowd, the situation, or the way your pulse was currently attempting to break the sound barrier, you weren't entirely sure.

"Yeah," he agreed, his eyes flickering down to your lips for a split second before meeting your gaze again. "Completely insane."

Someone's phone flash went off particularly close to the counter, the harsh light snapping you both back to reality. You stepped back, immediately missing the warmth of his hands, and Jaehyun cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair.

"This is going straight to Twitter, isn't it?" you muttered, suddenly remembering the audience of phones.

"Oh, definitely," he replied with a laugh. "I give it ten minutes before we're trending. Though I have to say," he glanced around at your coworkers, "your staff is about to become Seoul's newest heartthrobs. Leehan's already got three fan accounts dedicated to him."

"Right," you said, voice slightly strangled. "Coffee. You probably want coffee."

"Actually," he said, that familiar smirk returning but gentler now, less sharp around the edges, "I was thinking of staying for a while. You know, to help manage the crowd."

You stared at him. "Help manage the crowd?"

"I do have some experience with this sort of thing." He gestured at the sea of phones still pointed in your direction. "Besides, someone needs to make sure you don't take any more unexpected flights."

Despite everything, you felt your lips twitch upwards. "Fine. But you're making your own drinks."

"Deal," he said, already moving around the counter. "But I'm warning you, my latte art puts yours to shame."

"We'll see about that," you replied, and pretended not to notice the way the crowd collectively lost their minds as Jaehyun rolled up his sleeves and reached for an apron.

The night was far from over, but as much as you’d hate to admit it, you found yourself almost looking forward to it.

...

Almost.

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miyakazashi · 5 months ago

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Prepare for the worst guys...

The Link Click fandom is going crazy over this on Twitter, and I'm gonna bring the chaos over here too 😉 I mean we might as well lose our sh*t together, right ?

I want to talk about the "see you later" thing, since the artist works for the sgdlr people, I decided it was only right to see this from a Chinese angle, "see you later", despite a not so common translation, can literally translate to “再見”, and even though “再見” is typically used in the sense where you'd see the person again, even when someone dies, the phrase is also used to ask you to say your goodbyes to the deceased, “好好說再見” or something on the lines of that, like more of a goodbye forever thing.

I don't like where this is going 🥹🥹🥹 help

And on Twitter there are two main analysis/arguments I'm seeing right now

1. Vein is going to die

The stairs symbolizes Vein taking the steps to the after life, and leaving his cloak behind is kind of a passing the torch thing.

Plus the "person in the middle theory" I'm seeing on twitter

2. Xia Fei is going to die

Oh, and what about my thoughts ? No thoughts, I'd rather just be in the dark and wait until episode 6, then start crying and screaming :D cause right now it seems like there is no chance of a good ending at all, so I don't even want to think about it anymore even tho I'm probably still gonna, but we could pray to the sgdlr gods to just sacrifice Cheng Weimin for the greater good 😃 sounds like a lovely idea, right guys ?

But yeah, I guess we're expecting these kinds of endings next episode

Vein dies

Xia Fei dies

Cheng Xiaoshi dies again in this arc (which is honestly what I'm hoping for, look it's nothing personal, I like cxs just as much as most of the fandom, it's just...I don't want any new deaths, and it's the only other reasonable option and it also ties back to the entire, Lu guang's first attempt at saving him thing, maybe I'm just coping but I think this is the most likely and also the safest option for the fandom)

Cheng Weimin dies😃 which is unhinged, I know, but tell me you wouldn't want this😃😃

While I'm writing this my neighbor is literally playing some emotional songs on the piano, Istg please stop 🥹🥹

Currently the safest people in the fandom are the Liu Xiao simps btw, the contrast is actually comical, while multiple sides of the fandom are crying, screaming, breaking down, the Liu Xiao simps are just sipping tea in one corner of the room, might as well migrate there for a while to avoid the inevitable pain

#link click #linkclick #link click spoilers #link click bridon arc #link click yingdu #cheng xiaoshi #lu guang #link click vein #xia fei

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mint-flavoredd · 1 year ago

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Helluva Boss + SPY x family crossover inspired by Laviko_weid drawing on Twitter!!!!

I have so much fun thinking of the character dynamics and the fun added bonus of all of them being from Hell. (This is a world where there is a problem of hellspawn migrating to Earth, and the government is working with Hell to purge their world of secret Hellborn residents)

Stolas

Stolas ran away from the throne and his arranged marriage WITH his grimoire when he was 23, fleeing to the human world to start over. (Meaning Stolas is much more accustomed to ‘real life’ than canon Stolas. Still love them both tho)

Due to not using a crystal and instead uses sheer magical will that Stolas stays in human form, he finds it difficult to keep his eyes constantly changed, so opts to just keep his eyes closed. This doesn’t limit him at all, and he can see perfectly fine with them shut. However, if feeling intense feelings, especially if sudden, he forgets or just doesn’t care to keep them shut.

Stolas became an assassin at age 25, finding an odd sense of belonging to the profession. A control he never felt in his previous life. But as the years passed, Stolas became increasingly worried about being found out by the government. Most likely he wouldn’t be executed, but at this point, he has grown fond of his life on Earth and is making no plans on returning to his loveless marriage or royal duties back in Hell.

Blitzø

During the Circus fire, the fire had spread to nearby trees and buildings, including a building that was owned by a dangerous gang in the area, the fire killing a solid number of important gang members. For years they had hunted Blitzø, and while trying to escape them one day, Blitzø landed himself inside of a jail cell, meeting Moxxie in the process. After breaking out, they both decided it would just be safer to leave Hell all together.

Blitzø steals Veroskia’s (how to spell??) crystal and gives it to Moxxie then proceeds to steal himself one by sleeping with a succubus. They flee to earth. Blitzø is 22 at this point.

He found himself hating that hellspawn are hunted on earth (the whole point of going to earth was to be able to live without that fear of being prey) he attempted to become an assassin, however, Moxxie went into spy work and was easily persuaded since he thought it was the next best thing because you got to dress up AND you got to shoot people.

(Blitzø is a great spy because he is unpredictable and spontaneous- definitely a different kind of spy compared to Twilight.)

(Millie is human in this AU, Millie is that one coworker, Camilla, Moxxie is Frankie. These two are married, don’t question it)

Octavia

Octavia’s egg hatched a week after Stolas had left. (Stella had kept the egg a secret from Stolas, wanting to not constantly be pestered by the owl demon)

Stella was set to be wed to another Goetia, and she didn’t want to bring the owlet from her first marriage that failed spectacularly over to her second one. She wasn’t close enough to the newly hatched bird to be bothered. But It couldn’t get out that a Goetia had been given up to the streets of hell, and Stella didn’t want this girl to be unfairly exploited or raised improperly for being a Goetia, especially when she looked so much like her father already. Stella manually transformed Octavia into her human disguise and handed her off to a succubus who she had paid handsomely and instructed her to be handed off to a family who could take care of her. Unfortunately, Octavia had been handed off to demon obsessed lunatics.

At the age of 4, they had Octavia read a spell that they had no idea what it did. She had the magical ability to cast it, but she had the reading ability of a four year old and she was attempting to read a language she had been taught second hand by people who had taught themselves how to read it. It didn’t go great, she passed out in the process, however, when she awoke, she was granted the gift of telepathy.

Stolas and Octavia are both unaware that she is his actual blood related daughter, but it’s constantly mentioned by other characters that they look much more related than Blitzø and Octavia do. But it’s late to change the story now!

When the show starts, Stolas is 28, Blitzø is 25, and Octavia is 5

Also also Loona is Bond, the future seeing dog.

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ana-bananya · 7 months ago

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SUDAN NEEDS YOUR ATTENTION

The RSF's siege of El Jezira is still ongoing for over twenty days now. The attacks began after RSF commander Abuagla Keikal defected and joined SAF. The RSF is now torturing the people of Keikal's home state for his own actions.

In the town of al-Hilalia alone, at least 527 civilians have been murdered. Across Jezria, at least 1,237 people have been murdered as of November 10th. These reports are likely understatements, and deaths continue to rise.

The International Organization for Migration reports that more than 343,000 people have been displaced from Jezira state, seeking refuge in towns that are already overwhelmed with refugees due to the worsening displacement crisis.

Those who have been unable to evacuate Jezria face daily threats of looting, abductions/being taken as hostages, rape, and death. If they are not outright murdered by the RSF, they are killed by starvation, poisoning, or disease. There have also been reports of women resorting to suicide to avoid the trauma of being raped.

Please take action to support on the ground initiatives providing aid to Sudanese refugees, including those who have fled from Jezria state. Linked below are some highly reputable organizations that have been repeatedly shared by members of the Sudanese community. If you are able to donate to one, please do.

If you'd like to help further, the Sudan Funds website (organized by @/thisisNOTghaida on twitter) has a list of vetted campaigns for more organizations as well as individual families. Please consider adopting a family or campaign to post about.

To stay informed, please follow:

bsonblast (on twitter, insta, and tiktok)

Sudan.updates (insta)

Red_maat (insta)

tartola0123 (insta)

Sudan.updates (insta)

baobaboperation (insta)

Sdn.world (insta and twitter)

modathirzainalabdeen (insta and tiktok)

Londonforsudan (Twitter and insta. If you are in the London area, they also organize and post about protests you can attend)

If you feel uneducated about Sudan and are unsure where to start researching, @/red_maat' has put together a tool kit to help. The @/baobaboperation also has a brief starting guide.

REMEMBER TO BOYCOTT THE UAE:

Don't fly on Etihad Airlines, Emirates Airlines, or FlyDubai

Do not engage in tourism or travel to the UAE

Do not purchase gold, diamonds, cars, or broadcasting equipment exported by the UAE

Do not buy gas from BP or Shell stations

Contact your government officials

Canda (scroll to find "CANADA email MP, Foreign Affairs and Development")

United States

If anyone has any templates for other countries, please reblog with the link so others can use it. If you're not in Canada, UK, or the US, you can use and modify any of the templates linked to use to send to your government officials.

Links to mutual aid funds below

#sudan #keep eyes on sudan #sudan aid #eyes on sudan #free sudan #sudan genocide #sudan crisis #rapid support forces #sudanese armed forces #sudan fundraiser #mutual aid #action items #boycott the uae #boycott uae

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ofmdrecaps · 7 months ago

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11/11-12/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Con O'Neill; Alex Sherman/Alyssa Lane; Samson Kayo; Dominic Burgess; Vico Ortiz; Tim Heidecker; OFMD Crew Bsky Lists/Starter Packs! ; Adopt Our Crew; Fan Spotlight: OFMFF, Never Left Podcast, PatchworkPirateBear; Trans Existence Sticker Fundraiser; Citizen Dame; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Today's Taika;

Hey crew! Gonna be talking a lot about blusky tonight just cause that was the big thing that happened these past couple days! Not only did the OFMD fandom take a huge leap over there, but a bunch of cast & crew followed as well! How cool is that?

== David Jenkins ==

David sharing some love from our fellow crewmates <3

Source: David Jenkins Instagram

And getting us all riled up over on Bsky!

Source: David Jenkins Bsky

Spreading the love <3

Source: David's Bsky

And in case you didn't have enough to scream about.

youtube

Source: David's Bsky

== Rhys Darby ==

There's a heck of a lot going on with Rhys right now! Edinburgh Fringe Night 5 Full vid out on Cryptid Factor Patreon!

Source: The Cryptid Factor Patreon

Some pictures from October of Rhys in Toronto!

Source: James Rogue Comedy

Bsky Info: There's a section below with everyones Blusky, Rhys isn't posting anything yet, but Rosie did set him up with an account, and special thanks to catski22 who was kind enough to alert Rosie to save the https://bsky.app/profile/rhysiedarby.bsky.social profile! She's responsible for us getting this lovely new profile pic!

Not enough Rhys content? No problem!

New Atlanta Comedy Special available for November 29, 30 & December 1st! Check out Helium Comedy for tickets!

Source: Rhys' Twitter

== Taika Waititi ==

The new Holiday Short from Disney is out!

youtube

Source: Youtube

Another quick pick of Taika and Rita at the MTV EMAs!

Source: Joe Castro Insta

== Con O'Neill ==

David and Con starting up the chaos on Blusky!

Source: Con's Bsky

== Alex Sherman ==

Alex Sherman is ALSO on blusky and he sent us a lovely picture of Alyssa Lane (one of our writers) and some awesome extras from S1 <3

Source: Alex Sherman's Blusky

== Dominic Burgess ==

Dominic has made the switch from twitter to Blusky since people were being right jerks to him there! In celebration he sent us some lovely kitty photos! Feline Fettering Clan for the win!

Source: Dominic's Blusky

== Samson Kayo ==

Samson out with friends at a bday party <3

Source: IsThatFoot Instagram

== Vico Ortiz ==

Vico is going to be hosting an In-Person Voiceover workshop Dec , 11-3pm in LA1 To learn more, visit ACTNOWLA!

Source: Act Now LA's Instagram

Did you get a chance to get out to the Boys Night Out Stand Up Comedy that went on in LA on the 12th?

Source: Vico's Instagram Stories

== Lindsey Cantrell ==

Our fabulous set designer Lindsey is out here signed the Certificate of Authenticities for the Tiny Boats Raffle going on by @ofmd-buys-boats!

Source: Lindsey Cantrell Instagram Stories

== Tim Heidecker ==

Our beloved Doug has a podcast up on Patreon! You can check it out here!

Source: Tim Heideckers' Bsky

== BlueSky Lists ==

As OFMDTwt Migrates over to blusky, lots of folks have been utilizing lists and starter packs to help find cast & crew and fellow crewmates!

Starter Packs:

Looks for a starter pack of the OFMD Cast & Crew? Michelle, aka longmayheroam over on bsky put together this Starter Pack!

Lists

OFMD Cast & CrewList: Several crewmates have been putting together a cast post list! Super special thanks to @jilliansauers who is apparently amazing at finding cast members!

OFMD Fluff Feed by ManicFanfic! - Wanna get your fluff on? Our friend ManicFanfic put together this great feed!

OFMD List by whores.horse: Our Flag Means Death feed :) mention "OFMD", "our flag means death", or "ourflagmeansdeath" to be included in this feed

OFMD Refs by @roximonoxide! - A feed for OFMD References and Production BTS #OFMDBTS #OFMDRefs #OFMDWardrobe #OFMDSetDesign #OFMDProps

Do you happen to have any good starter packs for Feeds for OFMD Fans? Please reach out!

== Adopt Our Crew ==

Our friends over at @adoptourcrew have been boosting up the engagement on Bsky by asking our fellow crew some fun questions! If you're over on Bsky please give them a shout out on what you think! Don't have their bsky yet? Check them out here!

Source: AdoptOurCrew Bsky

They also asked what your favorite Laugh Out Loud moment was! If you're on Bsky please let them know!

Souce: Adopt Our Crew Bsky

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Our Flag Means Fanfiction =

OFMFF is also on Bsky!

= Never Left Podcast =

New episode of Never Left! This time the Run Me Through Awards Part 1! I can't wait to see what that's all about! Btw, NeverLeft Podcast is over on Bsky as well!

Source: Never Left Podcast Insta

= OFMD Colouring Pages =

Our dear friend @patchworkpiratebear made a colouring page for Halloween and I completely forgot to post it! Check it out! Since I'm sharing everyones Bsky's today, they're also available there!

Source: Patchwork Pirate Bear's Tumblr

= Citizen Dame =

It's been a while since I updated but there's lots of new episodes of Citizen Dame's Patreon Exclusive OFMD watch! They're up to Calypso's Birthday!

Source: Citizen Dame's Patreon

= Trans Existence Sticker Fundraiser =

Our darling crewmate @bbyteach has put together this awesome sticker (there's two versions) and is working on a fundraiser to help local NYC mutual aid funds! You can put in an order on their Ko-fi! Or Donate directly!

Source: @bbyteach's Twitter

== Love Notes ==

Hey there lovelies. I hope you know just how much you mean to one another. One of the big things that came from people leaving twitter and joining other platforms, is how much love that's been going around. I've seen quite a lot of people mentioning just how much OFMD has meant to them and their families in case they couldn't find folks on other platforms, and it's been so very heartwarming.

I've also seen some pretty scary things... and people banding together to help each other. I know sometimes it's hard to see when we're in the thick of it-- but we really are stronger together. Even if everyone doesn't always get along fandomwise-- you all step up when things are tough, and that's what crew is all about, and it's beautiful.

You're beautiful.

Remember to be kind to yourself no matter what happens today. You deserve the same kindness you give, even when you don't have it in you that day. Take care lovelies, be well.

Source: NewHappyCo Instagram

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

Tonight's theme is just sillyness. Gifs courtesy of the gif-master generals @bizarrelittlemew and @meluli!

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bitbybitwrites · 5 months ago

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So yeah that oh so fun "glitch" with Meta

Yeah, so yesterday I had vented about this oh so fun fact :

After being alerted by a friend to check FB/ IG to see if you were following Trump, Melania and Vance, I was surprised to find they were there.

And sure enough on FB there at the top of my "Following" page - there they were. Did I follow them previously. No. So I deleted them.

Checked IG and the only one of the three I appeared to be following (again without choosing to do so) was Vance. So I deleted him.

That was 1/21/25.

This morning (1/22/25), checked on IG and Vance popped up again AND I found out I was now following Tump and his wife ( which I hadn't done before).

So I deleted all three on IG ( Vance for the 2nd time, the other two for the 1st time) and blocked them all (and Vance had like 3 seperate accounts that looked official I blocked the other two I wasn't made to follow just in case)

Checked FB and I wasn't made to follow the trio again - thankfully, but blocked them all as well just to be safe.

Is it going to happen to everybody - who knows . . is it only going to happen to US users - who knows.

I do know I did follow President Biden, VP Harris and Dr. Jill Biden previously on FB. Their accounts are now marked as "archived". And I'm still following those archived accounts. So it wasn't like a let's change the name of the old account or anything so the followers remain the same. So Meta just decided hey, lets all just automatically take all their followers, create a new account for the new president and cronies and make em follow them too!

Whether its a "glitch" or it was deliberate - I don't care - it's still annoying as hell. I'm hoping the blocks will keep them out of my hair for now - though I am curious because I've heard people having to repeatedly deleted them from followers. I wonder what is the highest amount of times a person has had to do it so far?

Social Media is supposed to be a curated thing. I see what I want to see and I don't want any of their bullshit on my feeds.

Its all crazy I'm already seeing that creators on TikTok ( those who have gone back) are having videos removed because of "questionable" content . . . so the censorship begins over there . . .

I've had friends already pull out of Twitter, FB and IG because of this whole mess (plus the whole stupid idea of Zuck's to stop fact checking) . . most are migrating to Bluesky . . . I'm not sure where else folks might be going to but let me know!

I know this place isn't perfect, but hopefully it'll be ok for a time . . . because I'll certainly need a place to get away from the stress of the real world by enjoying weird wild fandom shit with you people.

It's gonna be a LONG 4 years - but we'll get through it together, folks!

#us politics #social media #meta #facebook #instagram #vent post

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jellolegos · 6 months ago

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could you talk more about rhaenyra's sword? i saw your comments on twitter and thought they were really interesting!!

of course! I love to talk about hotd :)

Mandatory disclaimer: what didn't fit in the twitter 200 characters is that I am by no means an expert, and I think this would fall even further outside of my research area than the late mediaeval palaeography stuff did, so just my layman's take :)

Something I noticed thanks to the BTS videos that were circulating this week is that the crossguard is much stubbier on the sword Rhaenyra picks up than on Blackfyre and Dark Sister.

vs.

On rewatch, their sword is clearly more reminiscent of a Merovingian (or Frankish) sword, than any of the other ones we've seen.

(An example from the BM, Sutton Hoo)

Merovingian/Migration Period/Carolingian/Viking swords all carry this distinctively shorter crossguard, evolved from Roman spatha. They usually have an equally stubby pommel, which grows to be more standardised in the period of Frankish export with 3-5 lobes, transitioning from Merovingian/Migration period to Carolingian/Viking swords. The lobes are obviously not applicable to the show sword since it has decorative dragon wings, but you might be able to see the resemblence of a weighter and wider pommel when compared to other swords we've seen in the show.

(HotD heirloom, a 'Viking sword' from the BM)

Since we also got confirmation that it is Valyrian steel, if we can assume the sword evolution in HotD parallels Western Europe, then we know that this sword predates Dark Sister and Blackfyre and pre-dates the Valyrian conquest.

(an illumination of a wielder of a Frankish 3-lobed pommel sword in the Stuttgart Psalter vs. Visenya's longer crossguard sword in the show manuscript)

Why does it matter?

I wish I had a more articulate way to put this but it feels like another example of Rhaenyra's tension between her inheritance derived from Valyrian heritage and her struggle to make manifest that inheritance, employing Valyrian aesthetic over a practical combat weapon. We see both practical swords (if memory serves, one of those is Harwin's?) with wider crossguards and this heirlooms on the table, but she reaches for this one specifically.

Importantly, we actually see why those stubby crossguards fell out of favour in the fight between Jacerys and Aegon in the training yard. In the scene the wider crossguard allows Jacerys to catch and thrust Aegon's sword to the side. Although the inward taper on Rhaenyra's sword might have served a similar function (allowing someone to 'catch' a blade), the stubby (and, like in real life, decorative) crossguard would have likely resulted in the wielder losing an arm. Therefore we know that Rhaenyra's heirloom would be at a disadvantage in real combat.

Thus, we are presented with two themes of her sword: it is ancient and deeply Valyrian, and it is almost certainly useless (think someone brandishing a flintlock).

I find the sword design a totally enchanting detail and one that really enriches her arc for the season. Through the sword choice, along with her gravitation to Visenya, her adoption of an increasingly Valyrian dress code, and the messianic themes in the scene with the dragon seeds, we see Rhaenyra struggling with assembling a patchwork of diplomatic and martial authority over a shoddy semi-divine Valyrian blueprint in an ultimately futile fight toward the Iron Throne.

I love Rhaenyra as a character deeply for it, and love the show for making those choices, what a beautiful and subtle way to flesh out some of the tension between all of those competing factors.

I think the obvious caveat is that this analysis assumes 1) HotD sword evolution is the same as Western European sword evolution and 2) that this design is intentional. The former obviously cannot be 100% true, there were no Roman spathas lying around in Valyria just as there were no dragons in Aachen. I don't know that we can assume the latter is true either, I'm not entirely sure it was intentional and I'm not sure if they had a set mediaevalist or similar to consult on the swords, I think there were enough mistakes in the manuscript to make me think not... but I could be wrong!

Admittedly, I think this can veer into 'the curtains were just blue' territory, and I debated whether or not I wanted to post that twitter thread at all. But what I will say is that I think analysis of art (be it props, colouring, lighting, etc.) can be a venerative exercise as much as an intellectual one. I want to, in my own life as much as possible, push back against passive consumption of media, so if it's overanalysis then it's overanalysis! Honestly, hearing different interpretations on the same media is the best part of fandom, so maybe it was intentional maybe it wasn't, but how fun is it to try and understand it anyway.

There are 22,000 of you now, so maybe this will find the right ears: KEEP THIS AS RHAENYRA'S SWORD FOR S3, ITS A GREAT CHOICE :) (or if you are hbo's propmaster, dm me and tell me I'm right!)

#asks #if anyone has the show book and can tell me more.#....

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destinationtoast · 10 months ago

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*waves shyly* Hello!! First off, I absolutely adore all of your stats and get excited when you post new ones -- thank you so much for all that you do!

Secondly, a friend and I have been discussing fandom longevity lately, and I wondered if you have thoughts? Subjectively, it seems to us that new fandoms tend to have more quick bursts of fandom activity when a new season/movie/book/etc comes out that fades quickly with time, whereas older established fandoms have more staying power. I'm curious if you have any insight about whether this is objectively true in most cases or not, and as to whether or not the type of canon source material matters (eg show-based fandoms vs book-based fandoms). I hope you're having a great day <3

Hi there, and thanks! :D This is a great question, and one I have been having a bunch of conversations about lately.

I share this subjective experience -- it sure seems like the attention span of fans and lifespan of fandoms is shorter than it used to be, when I think of how quickly people stop talking about a bunch of newer movies and TV shows these days. And then I see some of the older fandoms like Harry Potter still producing a ton of new fanworks, and I think, "Wow, maybe new fandoms just don't have the staying power of older ones." At the same time, I also question how objectively true/simple that story is for a few reasons, including:

Memory bias: When we look back on the past, the fandoms we remember most are usually the ones that lasted a long time. So our estimates of past fandom longevity may be overly generous.

Changes to fandom size: Maybe any changes to fandom lifespan are mostly due to some other change, like fandom size... Attention is more splintered these days than it used to be across more streaming services/etc, and I think there are more, smaller fandoms than there used to be. Maybe if a fandom doesn't get really huge, it's just not likely to last that long.

For TV fandoms -- changes to canon release schedule: most TV shows used to have seasons that lasted most of the year, so they had a lot more reason to stay in the public mind longer. Now many seasons are shorter and sometimes drop all at once. Perhaps if we compared popular TV procedurals with 22 episodes/season from now vs. ~a decade ago, we'd see similar patterns of fandom activity?

I've been thinking about ways to try to gather quantitative data about the changes, and testing out a few methods. A few ideas I've had:

Look at the Tumblr official lists of top fandoms and see whether the top fandoms tend to leave the top 20 rankings faster now than they used to. (The Tumblr rankings go all the way back to 2013 on a yearly basis, at least -- I'm not sure how long they've been releasing the weekly lists; those may have started later.)

Look at AO3 fandom activity after new canon infusions - how quickly does activity drop off after a new movie/book/video game release, or after a TV season ends? How has the rate of activity dropoff changed over the years? (And how much of that seems to be explained by other factors, like fandom size?)

See how quickly AO3 authors/creators tend to migrate to new fandoms, and how that's changed over time - many authors tend to be active in multiple fandoms, so we'd have to define what it means to migrate to a new fandom, but I think we could do so in a way that would allow us to look for changes.

Look at Tumblr, Twitter/X, and/or Reddit activlty after new canon infusions - same as AO3, but on a platform where people are posting shorter content and there's more of a discussion. (This data would be harder to collect, though.)

I'd love to also hear other ideas. I think I'm going to need some volunteers to help gather data if I do any of the above, though... Readers, if you'd be interested in helping to gather data for an hour or more to help investigate this question, please reply/DM and let me know! And/or join the new fandom-data-projects community.

Also if any readers know of anyone else who has looked into this/similar questions, I'd love to hear about it!

#fandom lifespan #call for volunteers #I'll also post more details later #but it would involve doing AO3 searches or other searches and copying numbers into a spreadsheet #questions for the tumblmind #asks #toasty replies #fandom stats #toastystats #50

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nerdishpursuits · 4 months ago

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Okay, this post is all over the place. Meaning it's a collection of thoughts that span over the last couple of weeks. Simply jotting things down as I watched and as they occurred to me. So, ye be warned. Here be a case of the verbose. It never ceases to baffle me, truly, how even the best content can trigger malcontent. And when it comes to this show the best example remains Twitter: the poster app for a flaming dumpster fire. Why people don’t just migrate over to BlueSky is just as dumbfounding. Oh well. Muting and blocking certainly helps curate the experience.

By all means, shall we vent (a little?)

1. Apparently Marta and Fina are too cringe-worthy in their dialogue now, as no one in real life would ever talk to their partner that way. Do I agree with this assessment? Most certainly not.

If anything, I find such scenes supremely satisfying. They reinforce the depth of their love and commitment to each other and manage to, somehow, always sound like wedding vows. At this point, honestly, I’d take this kind of scene over the more explicit ones reserved for the family values crowd. I prefer it because those other couples lack this in-depth emotional journey that we’re being treated to with Mafin.

The way Fina adores and cherishes Marta, how she supports her unconditionally. The reverence Marta holds for Fina, how she sees in her the embodiment of peace, of home, of love, of all that is well and good in the world. They are strong on their own, but together? Together they are invincible.

To me it’s obvious you can only have this kind of relationship with your partner if your level of comfort and trust in each other is absolute (nudge nudge wink wink @midniteowlet) And this is how Marta and Fina come across to me: beautifully at ease in each other’s presence, wonderfully supportive of one another, always nurturing and speaking a language of their own. A language of the heart that's intrinsically theirs.

So when they hold each other and confess their love in such a pure, unadulterated way, holding nothing back and simply allowing themselves to speak their truth? It’s a thing of beauty.

You are my example, Marta, my inspiration. You are the staff upon which I lean, whenever I feel myself fading. You are like a bird in flight, battered by the winds that try to bring you down. But always, always you soar again

You are a water lily, for the dirtier the water, the more beautiful the flower grows, so elegant, so serene

You are my strength. I need your embraces, your kisses. To rest in your arms, if only for a few hours, for they are the only place I find solace

To me these kind of dialogues and confessions never feel saccharine. It’s an expression of longing and love, of trust and admiration. And they stay true to the essence of a relationship between two women, where such displays of emotional and psychological authenticity take center stage.

And then we get a kiss. How nuanced the meeting of their lips. For Marta, the profound need to drink from this love that soothes her, cradles her, embraces her, ignites her and brings light and joy to an ever increasing darkness. For Fina, the selfless surrender, the ardent devotion, the intense admiration and the purest love. Theirs is a kiss that heals. A kiss that is home.

Bonus. Fina defending Marta against anyone who dares question her integrity and feeling so protective of her wife who often carries the weight of her family on her shoulders.

2. Optical delusions during the Marta & Pelayo scenes? Mind boggling. Personally, I'm quite enjoying them. I mean ... Fina's gentle touch has rubbed off on Marta 😌

3. Marta sarcastically saying she'll have to meet her future mother in law? Apparently not sitting well with some people. Sarcasm and irony have always been Marta's way of dealing with stressful situations. She's always been shown to awkwardly crack a joke, especially when things feel overwhelming and depressing. Seeing anything else in that? Claiming that she was all happy at the prospect of meeting that woman? Way off mark, imho. Marta and Fina are trying to make the best of an unpleasant reality. They have accepted this is the path they need to walk, but they also admit it's a painful one. I wish people would stop seeing things that aren't there. Considering they've done nothing but reinforce how much Marta & Fina are married to each other? Maybe one day it'll resonate that Marta's marriage to Pelayo is solely for convenience and something to, hopefully, offer protection.

Will they suffer because of it? Yes. Will they be dealing with the contraptions of a marriage, even though it's a fake one? Yes. Will their time be cut short, leaving them desperate to interact with each other? Also yes. In theory, this marriage will solve x and y. In practice, it will bring a host of problems they've not dealt with before: Pelayo's political career will place them under a microscope, Marta will be expected to play the dutiful wife in public, Fina will again feel like the odd one out (even though she is the sole reason Marta agreed to remarry). The world they want to fence out is very much pressing in, invading a space they want to call their own. The world will always demand its pound of flesh. But as long as they hold steady, hold fast and hold onto each other? They can make it work.

On to greener pastures.

Marta wanting to help Gema because she understands her need and desire to work, to feel useful and in control of ones life? I really loved their scene together and I don't think they've ever had a tête-à-tête before. I also love the fact that Gema doesn't aim for a position where she'd be in charge and doesn't shy away from hard work. I think that speaks well of her character. That being said? While I love Marta interceding for Gema with Joaquin, once again proving that her generosity and kindness knows no bounds? I do worry abut one thing with Gema: she's made of gossip. She'll be poking her nose into everyone's business, soon learning that Marta & Fina are together and who knows what she'll do with that information. To be frank, I'd been hoping Gema becomes the store overseer and robs Carmen of her position. That would have made for good drama and would have served as another lesson for Tasio, given he was loudly proclaiming he voted against Marta to secure Carmen's position. We shall see what this move holds in store and if Fina warms up to her. Gema is not a bad person. Let's trust she'll make the right choice. At least we got some peak comedy from the scene between Gema, Claudia & Fina.

Speaking of. Marta is too kind. Too kind to Andres, to Joaquin, to Tasio. However, in the long run she stands to win more if she's gracious and understanding. Hatred never leads anywhere good and Marta? Marta simply isn't made that way.

Still? Team Fina here. Fina and her perpetual hatred of anyone who hurts Marta. True to her feisty nature, Fina's there, representing, staring daggers into traitors. She's strong enough to hate them all, for the both of them. Forza, Fina!!!

Honestly though, I'd dearly love a scene where these a-holes apologize to Marta. But, hey. She's smarter than I am. Picking her battles and all that. Certainly not worth it to rage against the windmills. Better to sit it out and bide her time. Her moment will come again.

I suppose it just irks me somewhat when certain plot-points, that carry weight, seem to fall to the wayside. Or do they? Time will tell.

Curious about Irene. I suspect, long-term, she'll be against her brother. It would seem she does not approve of his methods.

Best thing about the Andres drama? Not seeing Andres. I guess Marta lost the directorship so she could play detective in his case. Too bad he's back now and comes up with brilliant ideas like the families rotating leadership every 6 months. The one great thing about Marta not being in charge was Joaquin having to struggle with the damn bathhouse on his own. Remains to be seen if anything comes of that. I'm not much of a business mind but this suggestion seems off to me. It can only work if there is trust and a willingness to cooperate. Given all the bad blood between these families right now? Maybe it's not such a good idea. Curious if they'll take this idea and run with it. Oh, well. Some Mafin goodness today. A sprinkle of sour'n'sweet, a pinch of shared concerns, a dash of comfort and some good ol' domestic ribbing.

#mafin #mafin commentary #marta x fina #marta de la reina #fina valero #marta y fina

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