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twice-inamillion · 23 days

Text

The Company

Red Velvet

Smut (anal, creampie, caught during sex, first time sex, mentioning of virginity)

Chapter 10

1935 Words

(OC wants to claim his prize for debuting Irene’s group. Not everything goes according to plan, and sacrifices are made.)

“Unnie, we’re excited to debut! Can’t believe it’s actually happening!”

“You girls deserve it.”

”It's all because of you, unnie,” say the members in unison.

”How are we debuting earlier than the other girl group?” asks Wendy.

“Irene unnie has pull with the CEO, that’s why, haha,” says Joy jokingly.

”Shhh, don’t even joke around; if the other trainees hear you, they are going to complain.”

”Don’t worry about what people say, you girls deserve it. As the oldest, it's my responsibility to take care of you girls.”

”How about we celebrate later tonight?” asks Seulgi.

”That sounds like fun,” replies Wendy.

”What about, unnie?” asks Joy.

”I wish I could, but I need to get some things done. You girls celebrate without me. Here, order some food with this,” Irene gives Seulgi the company credit card.

“Haha, we are going to eat!”

Irene then exits the room and pulls her phone out to see the text message she got during the gathering. “What does he want now?” She reads the message, “IU is out abroad, so get cleaned up; I’ll be stopping by your place later tonight.”

Later that evening, the members celebrate their upcoming debut by ordering some takeout and participating in around of round karaoke. Everytime they take a selfie they send it to Irene but get no response. “We should take some food to unnie. I don’t think she has enough time to cook food after working so late these past few days,” says Wendy.”

”You’re right, let’s surprise her.”

”Yes, maybe we can bring some party streamers and surprise her, haha,” says Joy.

The members pack some food in tupperware and head to Irene’s apartment. They try to be as careful as possible not to get caught by the staff who look for trainees violating their curfew. They exit the elevator and turn towards the hallway to find her apartment. Standing in front of her door, they try to remember her key code from the time they visited her a while back.

The door unlocks, and they all enter her apartment and place the food on the countertop. They look around, but there is no sign of Irene until they hear some noise coming from the room at the end of the hallway.

Curious, they slowly tiptoe and see the door slightly open and look through the little slit and are shocked at the scene. They see Irene, their oldest member and the mother-type figure of the group nude, getting pounded on all fours.

“I’ve missed this ass so much,” as you give it a nice smack. You spread her ass cheeks wide open, giving you a nice view of her pucker hole.

Irene whines,“Just get it over with.”

You align your cock to her pucker hole and slowly press it into her hole, causing her to grunt. She tries to hold her composure but can't when you grab hold of her hips and slam your cock all the way inside.

“Oh fuck! You're being too rough!”

You don't pay any attention and begin to thrust rapidly. Irene buries her head onto the pillow to muffle her expression. You slap her ass continuously, leaving your handprint on her ass.

Minutes pass, and you pull out and say, “How about I claim my present right now?”

Irene lifts her head and turns to you, “No, please, I'm not really yet. Just give me some more time to prepare.”

“Why should I? Remember the deal we made a while back?” as you trace your thumb against her folds.

“Yes, I remember and I'll do it, but just not today.”

“Then when?”

“How about after our debut? Give me a few more days.”

You rub your thumb against her lips and say, “Alright, but this is the last time I'm going to wait.”

“Okay.”

“Be thankful I'm patient with you; someone else wouldn't have done the same.”

“Yes I know, thank you.”

“Now raise up your ass; I want to cum inside.”

Irene positions herself a bit better and raises up her ass. With one hand, you spread her ass cheek and insert your cock back inside, “Fuck, to think that you offered your own virginity for the sake of your group, haha.”

Irene groans as she feels your cock stretch her ass completely and buries her head into her pillow to prevent herself from moaning.

On the other side of the door, the members watch as the oldest gets fucked from behind. They come to the realization of Irene's commitment to them, even at the cost of giving her own virginity.

Joy then whispers, “Unnie, let's go; I don't want to see what happens next.”

“Same here; I want to go.”

Seulgi responds, “Let's be quiet,” and the three of them turn around towards the exit.

Suddenly, they hear a loud smack and a shout, “I'm going to cum inside you!” They hear Irene yell out loud and try to cover their ears. The members rush back to their dorm and try to take in what they just saw.

“I can’t believe Irene unnie and the CEO were doing it” says Joy.

Wendy responds, ”I know; Irene said she was busy, so I thought she was working.”

”Maybe it was an excuse,” says Seulgi.

”I don’t know. Doesn’t seem like she was doing it because she liked it. I always thought Irene unnie liked girls and hated men.”

”What if she’s being forced by the CEO?” asks Joy.

”You have a point; he said something about a deal in exchange for her first time,” says Seulgi.

”Do you think she made a deal so that we could debut first?” asks Wendy.

The members look at each other in disbelief at the idea that Irene could do something like this. “We should try to talk to Irene about it. Tell her that it’s not worth it, we can always debut later.”

”How do you think we should bring it up? Are we going to tell her that we walked in on them having sex? There is a reason why she didn’t tell us” says Wendy.

”All I know is that we should do something about it” says Joy.

“Let's try to talk to her tomorrow morning before our schedule,” suggests Seulgi. The members agree and nod their heads.

The next day, the members are woken up by a sweet smell and make their way to the kitchen. They see Irene wearing an apron and holding a bowl of pancake mix, “Good morning! Take a seat, I’m making some pancakes.”

The members sit on the stools and look at each other, trying to figure out how to bring up what they saw yesterday.

“Sorry I wasn't able to join the three of you, I was so busy with work that I ended up falling asleep when I got back. How was your celebration?”

“It was good. We ate a lot and even saved some for you.”

“Aww, thanks. Maybe we can celebrate after our debut!”

“We'd love that. They try to find a way to bring up the subject, but instead Irene leads the conversation.

After eating, they arrive at the dance room and practice one last time before their debut tomorrow. “Alright girls. This is our last performance as a trainee group. Tomorrow is our big day, so let's call it a day and rest a bit. I'll see everyone later today.”

“Okay!”

Irene leaves the practice room and meets up with the managers to talk about tomorrow's schedule. The other three discuss their plan for the day when Wendy asks, “What are we going to do about Irene unnie?”

Seulgi responds, “I don't think we should get involved; maybe we didn't get the whole picture.”

“Seulgi is right; what if they were role-playing, and we caught them in one of those moments,” says Joy.

“Remember when we asked if anyone had a person they liked? Irene said she couldn't see herself liking a man but blushed when we asked if it was a possibility with a girl.”

Yeah, I remember.”

“I can't see her doing it with anyone, especially a guy.”

“Let's just wait until she tells us herself, we don't want to get involved in her personal life, especially if it's with the CEO. He can disband us if he wants to.”

“You're right, we don't want to get kicked out just moments before our debut.”

Exhausted with the situation Wendy replies “Okay, I won't bring it up anymore.“

The four members wait behind the main stage as the MC gets ready to introduce them as the new girl group. They hold each other’s hands and hope for the best before heading onto the stage.

”Give a big applause to the new group. Let’s welcome, Red Velvet!”

The audience applauds as the four of them walk on stage. They give a warm smile and wave, “Thank you! We are so glad to be here.”

They each look at each other and nod, “Happiness! Hello- We are Red Velvet!” The music starts and they begin their performance.

”Thank you, everyone for your support! We'll perform much more” as the members wave goodbye. They bow and watch as the stage light goes dark.

“Good job everyone. You all did so well. Let's keep it up!”

“Thank you Irene unnie.”

“Let's go celebrate!”

“Yes, let's get some food!”

After a night of celebration each of the members are back in their rooms.

Everyone is asleep except one, she makes her way to her closet and grabs her bag and a trench coat before heading out. Her mind is set; she can't let her unnie care all the burden while the rest enjoy the easy life and exits the apartment.

You're going over at some last-minute documents when you hear the doorbell go off. Curious about who it might be, you get up and check the security screen. “What is she doing here?”

You open the door and ask, “What brings you here this late?”

“I came to take Irene unnie's place.”

Surprised, you respond, “I'm not sure what you mean.”

“Like I said, I'm here to take her place” and opens her trench coat, revealing her nude body. “What do you think?”

”Not bad.”

“You can do anything you want as long as you don't bother her anymore. Just let her keep her virginity, and you can have mine.”

Not being able to contain yourself, you place your hand on her soft and tender breast, giving them a faint squeeze. Wendy's eyes squints, adjusting herself to being touched by a man for the first time.

“Are you sure you’re willing to take her place?”

”Yes, I’ve made up my mind.”

That’s all you got to hear as you grab her hand and let her into your apartment. You stop at the living room and say, “Let’s get you comfortable and take off that coat.” Wendy slowly lets the coat go, revealing her whole body but still trying to cover her shaved cunt.

“Move your hand, I want to see everything.”

”Okay.”

You walk around, inspecting 360 degrees, before grabbing her hand once more and lead her into the bedroom. She walks into the neat room and sees the large bed in the center of the room. Wendy takes one last breath before shutting the door, preparing herself for what she’s about to do.

#kpop smut #red velvet smut #red velvet irene #red velvet wendy #idol x reader #idol smut #k pop idol #kpop idol #g idol x male reader #TM smut #the company #male reader #wendy red velvet #joy red velvet #seulgi red velvet #irene red velvet

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effortandmore · 2 years

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you, after all | knj x reader (18+)

summary: your break up hadn't been angry or contentious. he wanted to go, you never asked him to stay. it was simple, really. but when namjoon shows back up after three years, things don't seem so simple anymore

pairing: namjoon x f!reader

rating: explicit (18+ please)

genre: exes to lovers, smut, fluff (because of who i am as a person)

warnings: smut, a little swearing, here are the specific smut tags: kissing, penetrative sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, maybe a whisper of a hand job, namjoon has a big dick (i had to)... it's really pretty soft—they're just in love without saying so

word count: 6.8k

a/n: i haven't been able to write the things i need to write (sorry jin and yoongi), so here i am with some namjoon fluff & smut. thank you, as always, to @ugh-yoongi who is helpful and kind with reading these things. apologies for the banner quality; idk how to make it look nice on tumblr. this is posted to ao3 here if you like to read fics there.

There’s this thing about awkward silences—they’re not inherently awkward because of the absence of sound, they’re awkward precisely because you become acutely aware of every little sound around you that isn’t the one you were expecting or wanting to hear.

The tap of his heel against the floor, muted by the thin cork flooring and then enhanced again by the way the fabric of his jeans whooshes when he jiggles his knee. The almost white-noise din of the other conversations around you, loud enough that you can pick out words but not meaning. The tinkling of silverware and chopsticks on ceramic and glass as people (including you) swallow things they think to say down with some glass noodles or spoonfuls of soup.

No, you decide. Awkward silences are anything but quiet, they’re terrifyingly fucking loud.

“So…” you finally start, “are you going to tell me what you’re actually doing here?”

Namjoon looks up from his food at you as you speak, his eyes wide like they get when he’s been startled out of some (probably depressing) train of thought, eyebrows raised in crescents that sit like shadows above the rim of his glasses. Noodles trail out of his lips and hang there, resting on his chopsticks, waiting for him to act.

It’s a perfect visual representation of the pause you feel in your whole body waiting for him to respond. Maybe somehow you are like a noodle, you think.

You try not to laugh at the thought because you know it will send him back into some sort of overthinking spiral of dismal self-worth. You know he’ll think you’re laughing at him. Sometimes, back then, you were. But not usually.

(And he’s not the only one prone to existential crises.

Perhaps that’s why you two had always gotten on so well. You’ve had plenty of time to think about how the two of you started and stopped, and being aligned in this sort of… well, thoughtfulness is maybe a generous way to put it… being alike in that way a little bit probably drew you together as much as it split you apart. One overthinker is enough for any relationship. Two is… two is probably one too many).

With a slurp, he sits up and sets his chopsticks down. He’s still regarding you, his eyes haven’t left your face, you’re pretty sure. But now, it’s with the careful consideration he’s known amongst your friends for, not the surprise you clocked on him a moment prior.

He’s still fidgeting. You can feel the vibrations of his legs when they brush the underside of the table because he’s too tall to keep his limbs to himself and too polite to stretch them out in a violation (would it really be? You’re not sure) of your space. For a moment, you think it’s out of character, and then you start to recall every difficult conversation you’ve ever had with this man in front of you. The way he would twist up his face into a scowl almost involuntarily, the pulling on his hair, the crumpling up of whatever paper was in reach, the peeling of countless labels off of beer bottles… No, you decide, the fidgeting is perfectly in sync with what you know of Kim Namjoon when he thinks he’s going to say something someone doesn’t want to hear (and also when someone’s telling him something he doesn’t).

If you didn’t know him as well, you’d think he was stalling. Or unsure of himself. And he might be those things to some degree, but this version of him, you’re sure, is trying to figure out how to say what he wants to say in a way that you’ll accept.

The problem is, you’ve been broken up for almost three years. You’re not sure what he could say that would even affect you like that any more.

So, this is all a little frightening, this awkward loud silence between the two of you.

You point the blunt end of a chopstick at him. “Joon, just spit it out. We haven’t seen each other in ages, I don’t want to waste this watching you think.”

At that, he grins, and at least some of what you loved about him rears its head. He’s gorgeous when he’s happy—it’s contagious, too. His dimples appear, his cheeks push up into his eyes and his lips spread so wide they almost cover the span of his face. He’s really, truly beautiful like this, and when you see it now for a split second, you’re reminded of how much you used to love making him smile, how much pride you took in being the one who could almost always make him laugh.

“Sorry,” he mutters as his grin turns from bright to sheepish. “You know how I can be.”

That, you certainly do.

“Well, you said you wanted to catch up, and we’ve done that, so now are you gonna tell me what you’re doing back here?”

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, eyes dropping down to his bowl.

“Uh-oh.” You mean it to tease, not to be cruel, but his face falls a little anyway. You suppose it’s two sides of the same coin—being able to make him laugh and having enough influence to disappoint him with your words… they’re essentially the same thing and you know it. “Sorry,” you add, tapping his foot under the table with yours. “I was just teasing… Trying to make this less weird, I guess.”

“It was never weird with us, was it?” He’s asking you, for what you’re not sure. Reassurance? Absolution?

“No,” you reply softly. “It was a lot of things with us, but it was never weird.”

And it wasn’t. Not when you fought about stupid shit late-night in the kitchen of your crappy apartment. Not when he took off to the city to do “big things” after uni and you just sort of… let him go. Not when your friends “didn’t take sides” but took careful measures to not invite you to the same parties, and not when he called you earlier today, totally out of the blue, telling you he was around and he wanted to see you.

In order, it was frustrating, disappointing, lonely, and surprising, but none of it was weird. Not weird standing in his empty living room, leaning against a stack of his moving boxes and watching him pack the last of his belongings into a duffel. Not weird to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you as he fucked you into the mattress that last night before he left, whispering that he loved you and needed you. Not weird after, when you spilled tears on his chest and told him you were scared for what life would be like without him while he ran fingertips up and down your spine and reassured you that no matter what, you were going to have an incredible life.

It wasn’t weird when the next morning, he promised you’d always be friends.

It wasn’t weird when you both eventually stopped texting.

It wasn’t weird when he never came back.

But now he’s here, sitting in front of you in the same grungy noodle shop you used to have your cheap college date nights at, and things are absolutely, inarguably weird.

Namjoon’s staring at you, still hasn’t answered your question, when the server comes with your check. He snags it before you can argue and gives you a distracted sort-of-grin when he gets up to find the cashier.

Everything about this is so familiar and different at the same time. In your past life with Namjoon, he’d never just leave the table to pay with noodles left in his bowl, he’d never forget his manners and ignore asking whether or not you were ready to go. But him getting distracted by his own thoughts is on brand… So is the way he knocks over the cashier’s pencil cup when he tries to return the pen he used to sign the receipt. The most familiar thing is the glance he throws your way when he does it, rolling his eyes affectionately when he sees you stifling a laugh.

It makes your stomach tumble.

There isn’t a discussion when you leave the noodle shop, thank god. No asking if it’s okay if he walks with you, no awkward first date bullshit. Which of course there isn’t, you remind your nervous system, because this isn’t a date and it’s not a first anything really. First time you’ve seen him in a while maybe, but even that feeling’s been fading since you saw him through the window of the restaurant, sitting alone (waiting for you with his knee bouncing) at your usual table a couple hours prior.

“Why do you think we call it a pencil cup?” he asks quietly. You can barely hear him over the car that happens to pass as he speaks.

“Huh?”

“We always call it a pencil cup, but everyone keeps pens in them, you know?”

You smile softly in spite of yourself. “I don’t know, Joon-ah.” It’s a nickname you haven’t used or thought of in a long time. It feels too affectionate for what you are to each other now (you feel a little too affectionate toward him for what you are now, so you suppose it fits), but he doesn’t seem to notice, leaving you thankful for the universe’s small favors. “Humans are quirky. Language is worse,” you finish.

He hums in response. “You’re right. You’re always right,” he agrees.

Suddenly he stills, footsteps halting as he grabs your hand. The surprise you feel absolutely accounts (you hope) for the stupid swoop of your stomach; not the first one you’ve felt since the sun went down. “Can we?” he says, tugging on your hand like a ridiculously strong kid.

It takes a second for you to realize what he means, but when you do, you readily agree. “Of course we can.” You move first, pulling him behind you, and it’s not lost on you when you look over your shoulder that he looks happier than you think you’ve seen him maybe ever, and that you’re still holding hands.

You hop up onto the metal platform, letting him go, and he grabs one of the bars and starts to pull it behind him as he jogs. Your world literally spins. Arms out, you tilt your head back and puff out a long breath. It’s cold enough that you can see the smoky trail of it float above you, tendrils of steam looking like they’re curling around the stars.

With a thud, Namjoon lands across from you on the merry-go-round, sitting to face you, legs sprawled out in front of him. You sit, too, and the metal wheel spins a little more slowly with each revolution until it’s barely moving millimeters, all of the momentum from Namjoon’s effort petering out.

It’s weird, you think, that staring at him across from you, it still feels like the ground is moving.

“I left.” He breaks the silence with a simple statement and you’re not sure what he expects you to say in return, so you just nod. “But I don’t know why you let me.”

He doesn’t look at you when he says the last part, his head tilts off to the side and he leans it against one of the cold, metal railings. If he was anyone else, you’d think he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. But you know him, and you know he rarely says things he doesn’t mean.

The first response in your chest feels like anger. He left you after all. He walked away. Of course you let him, what the fuck else were you supposed to do? Beg him to stay? You were basically kids. You still are. He had opportunities, you had a sick mom… it wouldn’t have been fair to ask him to stay.

And then there was this: the insecure part of you didn’t want to give him the opportunity to tell you he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. That you weren’t worth it.

Maybe you should have taken that chance. You’ve learned a lot since then. Grown up and gotten more confident, surely. Made new friends, had other partners. “Lovers,” as Taehyung likes to call them (just to see you roll your eyes at him in response).

He keeps talking before you can let the angry thoughts have a voice. “I love being here,” he says softly, still not looking at you. “I love how you can see the stars, I love that the air smells better. I love the sea and the way it makes you feel small…” he sighs before he continues, “but I’ve been back for a week and I didn’t love any of it as much as I love this right now.” His voice gets quieter with each word. You barely hear him tack on, “with you.” You might even be imagining it, he’s that quiet.

It almost makes you sick to not know what he’s getting at, to wish he would just be straight with you. All of this nostalgia… what amounts to a recreation of all your college dates… It’s just so much.

“Are you pregnant?”

“What?” Namjoon’s eyes look like they’re about to pop out of his skull.

You let yourself laugh when you respond. “I don’t know! This just feels like the lead up to something big, you know? You’re pregnant, you have cancer, you’re moving to another country…” You trail off and then sit up straight, letting yourself get a little more serious. “What’s all this about? It feels like you have big news or… to be honest, it kind of feels like a date, Joon-ah.”

“Feels like a date good or feels like a date bad?” he asks.

“Feels like a date confusing,” you answer pointedly. “I don’t even know what you’re doing in town.”

“Can I walk you home?”

“That’s not an answer.”

He stands then, and reaches a hand out to you to help you up. You let him even though you don’t need it, and he pulls you into a hug. Tight against his chest, things feel a little less confusing and this seaside town feels a little more like home than it has in a really long time. It’s distressing how right it feels to be close to him like this, how he smells just like he always has, how soft his stupid sweater is under your cheek. You do everything you can not to nuzzle against him in a complete violation of any boundaries that both of you might have. It’s all you want to do though, and that’s disconcerting in and of itself.

“Yeah,” you mumble into his collar. “You can walk me home.”

You give him some grace as you walk, not repeating yourself for the millionth time with your request to know just exactly what he thinks he’s doing crashing back into your life with a half day’s notice. Then it occurs to you that he’s leading you home, which is fine except… you’re not sure how he seems to know where you live.

“Joon? How do you know where we’re going?”

“Huh?” He gives you a distracted glance like he didn’t quite intake your question.

“My apartment, how do you know where it is?”

“Oh…” His cheeks flush the prettiest rose color. “Ah… you were at that art show in the city a few nights ago, right when I got to town, and Tae invited everyone over. We’d been drinking and the bar was closing and he said you wouldn’t be there…” He gives you a pained sort of smile. “He said you wouldn’t mind. Said you’d be staying with friends.”

The idea that your ex was in your apartment without you knowing it is… well, it should be infuriating. But it’s not. It’s more like you want to know what he thought, if he liked it. If it felt like the you that he knew or a new version of you. If it felt familiar and different at the same time the way he does to you right now.

“So… you’ve been in our apartment then…” It’s not a question, but Namjoon answers anyway, rushing the words out.

“No! No.” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t do it. We got there and I… It felt like sneaking around and I couldn’t do that to you. I went back to Hoseok’s and crashed on his couch.”

“Oh… okay.” You can’t figure out why you’re almost disappointed. “You can see it now. If you want. If that’s something you’d be interested in, you know…” The words spill out in a rambly jumble.

Namjoon stops to consider you, head tilted like he’s trying to listen to words you’re not saying. He must find whatever he’s looking for, because he responds quickly. “Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

“Okay.” You nod but don’t move.

“This is it, right?”

And it is, indeed. You’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk in front of your own building, too distracted by whatever this thing is with the two of you to notice where you are.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on up.” You punch the door code in and hold the door for him, bowing a little and giving an exaggerated gesture for him to enter to lighten the mood.

Taehyung, the world's most interesting roommate, is working an overnight shift, so you know he’s not home, but you pray he hasn’t left anything strange out in the living room. You’ve walked into your apartment to find it perfectly spotless except for a trumpet and a dildo sitting side-by-side on the coffee table before, and though you’ve never really discussed it for obvious reasons, you’re fairly confident it won’t happen again. But not one hundred percent.

“Tae’s working tonight,” you explain for some unknown reason as you unlock your door. It’s not like Namjoon is some third date here to fuck you for the first time, so it doesn’t matter if Tae’s there or not and he probably knows your roommate (his friend, too) is working, anyway.

“I heard,” he mumbles behind you.

To your extraordinary relief, nothing odd or personal is strewn around the living room or the kitchen, so you say a silent prayer of gratitude and slide your shoes off, motioning for Namjoon to do the same.

“This is it,” you say, in your most uncreative moment of the night. “It’s nicer than the last place you saw me living,” you joke. It is, though. Much nicer. Having Tae to split the costs helps, and your art has actually been selling for the past couple of years, so that’s afforded you a little more than the old studio with a leaky shower and what was probably mold around the windows.

“Mmm,” he murmurs as he looks around the open space. “It was nice ‘cos it was yours. It felt like you. But this does, too.”

“Water?” you offer.

“Sure, thanks.”

You fill up two glasses from the pitcher in the fridge and pad back into the living room where Namjoon is looking at the art on one of your walls. It’s a combination of your paintings and Tae’s photographs that the two of you thought complemented one another.

“Your art.”

��Yes…?”

“No…” Joon shakes his head and sets his water down on your coffee table. “Your art. It’s why I came back. That's why I’m here.”

“Oh,” you squeak. It’s not what you expected—you didn’t expect an answer to your question, and even if you’d hypothetically received one, ‘your art’ wasn’t what you’d thought it would be. “I don’t think I understand. You want to buy one or something? You can just have a painting, Joon-ah... Friends and family discount. You didn’t have to come here for that.”

He frowns and shakes his head again before he carefully takes your water glass and sets it on the table next to his. Then he reaches for your hand, and when you offer it to him, he guides you to your own sofa to sit.

This time, sitting too close like you were in the noodle shop, you’re the one who’s nervous. Something’s up with him, and you’re not connecting the dots.

“I saw your show. The solo one. Congratulations,” he says. His smile is warm like his hand that’s still wrapped around yours and it feels like you could maybe let your nerves settle a little bit.

“Thanks. It was a lot of work, but worth it. I’m still a little surprised at how well it was received.”

“I’m not.” He says it with conviction, and you love it. The hint of praise laced with his belief in you has always been a driver of your confidence; you don’t love that you need the external validation, but it’s nice, regardless.

“It reminded me of home,” he continues. “Made me sick for it. Like I couldn’t stand to be away from it for another minute. So, I told my work I needed some time off, and I came home.”

“Oh… Okay. Well, I’m glad you felt something… I hope being home has been what you wanted.”

“You don’t get it,” he says, frustrated. “I haven’t been home, not really. Not until tonight.”

“Joon-ah…”

“Please? Can I get this out?”

And there are so many things to feel, you’re not even sure where to begin, so you just listen. It’s not easy to ignore the feeling of being on edge, the idea that you think you know where he’s headed with this. Since you’ve never even let yourself consider it (you’ve really not let yourself think about him much since he left. Certainly not recently), you have no idea what to think. So you focus on him instead; the tendons that run from his hands up his forearms that you used to love to trace with your fingertips, the way he’s filled out some since you last saw him—his chest and shoulders are broader, his jeans hug his thighs tighter than you remember… He looks good. Great, even. Everything you remember but a little bit more. Like he’s become the person he was always meant to be.

“I’ve dated a lot of people since I left,” he starts. And maybe this isn’t going where you thought it was. You scoff involuntarily, and he rolls his eyes at you. “Can you just listen to me?” he asks.

You nod. “Sorry.”

“Not at first. I missed you. I couldn’t figure out why you never… I don’t know… Tried to talk me out of it, never asked me to stay. I thought it meant that maybe you didn’t love me the way I loved you. After a while, a few months maybe, Yoongi told me I was depressing to be around, that I should try and make friends, meet people. He reminded me that I was the one who left, not you. And he was right.”

“I remember,” you say. It comes out a little harsher than you’d intended, but maybe not ever letting yourself think too much about him (especially about him leaving) has left you with some unresolved feelings you weren’t totally aware of. Namjoon’s jaw tightens, but other than that, he doesn’t react. Maybe he knows he deserves you being a little upset. Things ended oddly fine between the two of you, it was amicable, but if you’d let yourself feel everything back then, it might not have been that way.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice softer now. “I needed to go, though. You know I did.” He looks at you, waiting for you to give him some reassurance you think, so you squeeze his hand.

“Yeah, you did, Joon-ah. It’s okay.”

His fingertips trace patterns across your wrist and you can almost feel his body get looser when you give the small peace offering. “So,” he says, “I tried. I met people, I dated people, I moved to new apartments with new roommates to new parts of the city. I tried to get that feeling back. Not to… I don’t know. Not to replace you, but to feel like I was home. But nothing worked. Nobody worked. And then I saw your show.”

“Oh…” It’s not much, but it’s the only thing you can think to say as he pulls you closer to him on the couch and runs a thumb across your cheekbone. It’s so much, it’s such a private thing for him to touch you like you're something breakable. Like you’re his, still. It’s making you short-circuit.

“Home,” he says in a whisper. “I needed to come home.”

“Home.” You repeat it like he’s taken all the words you used to know and pulled them out of your head to scatter on the floor in a mess.

His lips are on yours before you have time to process, and you hear a whimper that you quickly realize must have come from your own throat as he kisses you more tentatively than you ever remember him kissing you before. You know this is him testing the waters, giving you time to decide if you want this—sort of—and maybe this is a one-night nostalgia thing for him, or maybe this is what forgiveness tastes like, and maybe it’s a terrible idea, but Namjoon’s lips on yours feel like home to you, too, and you don’t want to talk yourself out of something that feels so fucking right. You didn’t even let yourself remember that you missed him until now, and your chest aches with something like longing even though he’s here, he’s real, he’s kissing you.

Kiss back, you remember suddenly. So you do. A slightly shaking hand moves to his thigh as you let him slip his tongue between your lips and lick into your mouth slowly. He’s firmer than you remember when you squeeze over his jeans and tilt your head to give him a little bit better access. The kiss, which started out so sweet, soon turns into something else entirely, and before you know it, you’re out of breath and letting out another whine when his hand drops from your cheek to around your waist and he tugs you even closer to him. You can feel him smile against your mouth when you pause to breathe.

“Is this okay?” he asks, cheeks flushed, dimples out, and hair mussed. He looks like a dream.

He looks like he’s yours again, and you want to let yourself have this, even if it’s temporary.

“Yeah.” You nod too furiously to even look remotely cool or in control of the situation, and he laughs. It’s not like he looks much better off with his swollen lips and the stars in his eyes. “Bedroom.” You’re up and pulling him up with you before he can argue, practically dragging him behind you past Tae’s room and the bathroom to yours at the end of the hall.

You move into your room and barely get the door closed before you’re being pushed back up against it, Namjoon moving his mouth down your neck, over your pulse point– all his attention focused on seeing what might make you shiver and whine. So much hasn’t changed.

It’s odd, you think, as he finds the perfect spot, to have to learn this all over with someone. Does he remember all your places and all the things you like? Will he still be patient like he used to be, content to watch you get worked up because of his touch before he lets you focus on him? Will he have new things that make him moan, are there new things he likes that he learned from someone else? All these questions float through your head as Namjoon slowly slips his hands under your shirt and pulls it over your head.

With your back against the wall, Namjoon drops to his knees in front of you and carefully unbuttons your jeans, slipping them down your legs with your underwear, groaning and face flushing when he finally gets you undressed.

“You… are… incredible,” he mutters against your skin in between leaving hot, wet kisses across your pelvic bone. “I’ve missed you so much,” he adds as he hooks one of your legs and rests it on his shoulder. His breath is hot on your skin and it’s like you can feel it everywhere—he’s barely even touching you and every nerve ending in your body is responding, wanting more.

As he brings his tongue to your clit, you let your head fall back against the door with a soft thud. He was always so good at this, he still is. His stubble brushes against you and makes shivers run up your spine. He’d probably not shaved that morning—you wonder if he did on purpose, remembering how you used to brush your cheek along his chin and tell him you liked it, how it made you feel soft and delicate when he wasn’t.

His tongue works you over in long strokes, dipping inside on occasion and you hear him practically whine when he really tastes you. There’s never been anything hotter, you decide, than his deep voice so fucked out and turned on because of you. If you could get off on sound alone for the rest of your life, that might be the one you’d pick.

When he finally slides a finger inside you, you moan—you’re so much louder than you’d meant to be, louder than you have been for anyone in so long, but he knows you. Knows your body, knows just how fast to move his tongue, how deeply you like to feel him inside you.

Namjoon’s lips form into a smile against you as he pauses, asking in a whisper, “Can I make you do that again?” before curling his finger inside you and taking your clit back between his lips.

“Oh, fuck…” you whine. And yes, the answer is definitely yes. “Keep going,” you say as he fucks into you, giving you space to roll your hips away from the door and into his face.

It doesn’t take much longer for you to come—Namjoon puts a large hand to your waist and helps support you as you tremble around him and your knee buckles. With a lot of effort, you ignore the quiet, private voice in the back of your mind that tells you that you don’t deserve this—that you shouldn’t be doing this, that you’ll get hurt again. Finally, your shaking subsides, and he moves your leg off of his shoulder and to the ground, keeping a grasp on you to help you stay upright.

“You’re… still very good at that,” you say breathily.

“Thank you. I’m pretty good at a lot of things, I think,” he says with a wink as he stands.

You love when he’s cheeky like this, confident in a way that you remember being one of his best traits. Like he knows exactly what he’s capable of. It’s the first time you’ve seen him like this tonight and it makes you ache for things you don’t think you can have, for the past. He’s suddenly close again, so fucking close, and you can smell yourself on his lips and you can feel that he’s hard in his jeans. He leans in, even closer, bringing his lips to yours but not doing anything with them, and running a single fingertip across your jaw to hold your face in place—no place to look except at him, square in the eyes.

“Are there things you’re still good at?”

Oh, holy shit.

And you’d remained upright this whole time, but fuck if your knees aren’t ready to give in now. You swallow audibly and struggle to form an answer in your post-orgasmic haze, turned on by the nostalgia and the way he’s half-whispering, half-rasping. The intimate way he speaks to you makes you almost drip again with desire.

“Well, if you’re not going to tell me, I guess I’ll find out for myself,” he says. Namjoon grabs your hand and squeezes, then leads you to your own bed. “Do you want me to find out? Do you want… me?”

It should be something you have to think about longer, should be more of a consideration. But it isn’t at all. Your head is bobbing a ‘yes’ of its own accord and you’re slowly unbuttoning his jeans and pulling his sweater off before you really realize you’re doing it, before you can think about what it might mean in the morning. Before he slips out of his pants, he pulls a condom out of his wallet in the pocket and tosses it on the bed.

The simple action has you a little nervous now, like suddenly this is real, and this is Namjoon, the actual love of your fucking life who left you, and he must see it on your face as you stand next to the bed, naked, facing one another, and unmoving.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“Yeah… I’m nervous. It’s been so long and it’s… you.”

Namjoon cups your cheek and brings his lips softly to yours. His other arm snakes around your waist and pulls your body into his—skin to skin everywhere, and it feels so good. His body really is different than you remember: firmer, broader, bigger, and you like it. It’s different, but just as good, you decide. Familiar and different at the same time, just like everything else about him. When he breaks the kiss, he finally speaks.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I do,” you say resolutely, convincing him and yourself at the same time. You bend over to grab the condom and feel his hands on your ass, so you stay, dropping to your elbows on the mattress, remembering how he’s always appreciated the view from that angle. “Do you still like it this way, Joon-ah?” you ask as you push your hips back toward him a little, leaning into the familiar to calm any lingering nerves.

And instead of answering, Namjoon slides his hands up your back and down your arms, pulling you up at the elbows and pressing your back into his chest. “Yes,” he replies. “But not this time. I want to see you, I want to know I’m taking care of you. I want to remember.”

He starts kissing you then, lips on your neck, across your shoulders, hands wrapped around you—one teasing at your nipples, one firm around your waist. You do feel taken care of, and it’s nice, you decide, to be with him again. This part hasn’t changed. You meant what you said—he’s really good at this.

Eventually, you move to the bed, and you become a little more brave, letting yourself explore his body. As you lay facing each other, you run your fingers along the ridges of the muscles in his abdomen, stroke his cheekbones, let one arm snake around his ribs and then fall to his ass. He really is firm all over, and you find yourself more attracted to that than you’d anticipated. You murmur appreciations into his skin, telling him he’s worked hard, that he looks incredible, that you want to take your time and appreciate everything he’s tried to build.

Namjoon watches you as you test the waters, carefully mapping the ridges and planes until you take his length in your palm and start stroking him. The first time he breaks eye contact with you is when you bring your other hand down and palm his balls, softly squeezing as his eyes roll back in his head and he lets out a long, low moan.

Maybe things aren’t so different than you remember, after all.

You touch and kiss and whisper until you know he’s been hard long enough and you’ve been stalling long enough, and his hand makes lazy circles over your clit, no problem getting you wet again. Namjoon rolls the condom on and pulls your leg up over his hip. He’s careful in a manner that’s completely him (but you’re no longer used to from your recent hookups) as he slowly pushes into you. And you’ve been in a lot of… positions in the last few years, but nothing quite this intimate: chests pressed together, arms wrapped around each other, noses touching, and Namjoon so deep inside you, moving so, so slowly. You’re almost not moving at all, and you had no idea something like that could feel so fucking good.

It’s slow and sweet, and he kisses and caresses you, and you realize that this is was what people are talking about when they talk about the difference between making love and fucking.

Namjoon is quiet, quieter than you remember, but the look on his face is reverent, like he can’t believe you’re letting him do this, like he can’t believe you’re real. And you know how he feels, and you want to reassure him and whisper how much you care about him and how you think you could still love him, but it’s all too much for the moment. So, instead, you just let out soft moans of approval when he rolls his hips in just the right way and otherwise try to focus on him and the way he’s making you feel, cock buried in you, better than anything has been since the night before he left all those years ago.

Your second peak comes steadily and seems to last a while as Namjoon whispers how beautiful you look and how lucky he is. The praise has you clenching around him and pulling his climax out of him, too.

You stay intertwined as your breathing slows, kissing and smiling with pink cheeks and tired limbs. When you’re sure you can move, you slowly push back from him and roll off the side of the bed, grabbing his undershirt. “You mind?” you ask, holding it up. “I thought I’d grab water and if there’s anything else you want…”

“Sounds great,” Namjoon replies, a sleepy smile on his face, obvious in his preening over you wearing his clothes again.

You try not to let yourself think too much about what just happened as you retrieve your water glasses and fill them up again. You find your phone on the counter, next to Namjoon’s, and you shoot a quick text to Tae telling him you brought someone home and you don’t know if they’ll still be there in the morning. You don’t want your roommate to be surprised by a visitor. But you know if Namjoon’s still there when he gets home, Tae will definitely be surprised.

When you pad back to your bedroom and click the door shut behind you, you realize Namjoon’s already fallen asleep, snoring softly. He looks ridiculous on top of your sheet with the duvet kicked down to the end of the bed, his big cock soft against his big thigh and his hair sticking up in fifty different directions all over your pillow. His lips have fallen open to let his stupid snores out, and you have never been more endeared to anyone in your life.

Like a thunderbolt, it comes suddenly, the realization that you think you probably never stopped loving this man.

You set the water down on your nightstand and crawl into bed next to him, careful not to wake him up, even though unless something’s changed, you know he’s a fairly deep sleeper. You pull the duvet up over both of you and settle into your pillow, thoughts of unresolved and maybe unrequited feelings still clouding your mind.

He wakes up enough to roll over and sling an arm around you, possessive in a way you like. You miss being his, you miss the quiet way he loved you before. All folded up love notes and kind gestures and small gifts for no reason. You almost let yourself tear up thinking about how big your love for him used to feel—maybe still does.

You’re fully spiraling, deciding this was probably a massive mistake, when Namjoon strokes his thumb over your stomach and nuzzles into the back of your neck.

“Baby? You awake?” he mumbles, half-asleep.

And fuck, you’ve missed the casual endearment from him. “Yeah.”

“Do you want me to go?” he asks.

And you know three years ago, if you would have said it, it wouldn’t have mattered. That’s the real truth of it. Because if you’d asked him to stay then, he wouldn’t have, and he would have been making the right choice to leave, anyway. So letting him go without putting up a fight was easier on both of you. It was the right decision then to not ask him to stay.

But now? Now, after tonight, you know things aren’t the same as back then. Some of them, yes. But not the ones that matter, not the ones you’re thinking about when you reply.

“No, Joon-ah… I want you to stay this time.”

You feel him smile against your shoulder and pull you tighter into him. Neither of you says anything more, and it’s only a few minutes before he starts his snuffling snores into your hair again. It feels nice, you think as you finally start to drift off. It feels like home.

#bts imagines #bts fic #bts fanfic #btswritingcafe #namjoon fic #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon imagine #bts smut #namjoon #namjoon x you

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toxicanonymity · 3 months

Note

Hey, this person has directly credited you as their ideas for their character bots

https://poe.com/pedroxo

[ Background: an account made AI bots of my fics and others to various extents. I had an anxiety attack quietly watching Tumblr melt down over this topic. When the dust settled, this post was the first and last I said about it to address continued inquiries. ]

unauthorized AI Bots of fics

Thank you everyone who kindly let me know about the >25 unauthorized bots using content from my fics.

Listen, I strongly relate to the desire to talk to these characters - I've said it before. I appreciate how invested someone must be to go to all this effort, and I appreciate the credit. But it's not right and I'm not comfortable with it. You may not realize what it feels like to the writer. It feels like a violation.

Unfortunately, this wasn't the first incident for me. Someone once made a bot of my fic 4 days after I publicly said not to in response to an ask. I didn't find out until it had almost 1k "chats" and you'll see I use that term very loosely under the cut.

I've said don't do this, and it's in my masterlist. I've even shared my anxiety about being so slow to update that people take matters into their own hands. I'm not really sure what else to say. I'm tired.

Please don't do this. And when you see chatbots built on fics, please alert the writers.

IMPORTANT The bots are down. I don't want the person to be harassed - i think that's obvious based on my tone from the start.

Beyond these, there were more bots from night walks, slasher, and stepdad, ones from Raider and Speakeasy and even a few from hypotheticals I published like when stepdad goes to jail for indecent exposure or when you aren't getting wet for raider joel.

Night Walks: Original, Soaked

Left in Lincoln pt. 1; jalbird

Slasher: Midnight Tow, Stop Playing

Stepdad: Clock, Ring Doorbell

Sorry I was too overwhelmed to do the IMG text on each of these but it's basically just snippets from the works listed.

After being contacted, the person copied and pasted a message to multiple writers saying they were sorry, didn't know what they were doing, were deactivating their acct. They asked to spread their message, and said have an amazing day/night.

------

Past Incident

IMGs: 1) I answered an ask August 16 saying no. The asker had "offered" to credit me. 2) August 20, someone made a bot without credit. This is worse imo and suggests trying to hide their actions.

I told a lot of people about this, but it was an isolated bot unlike the profile discovered 2/23.

IMG: comparison of left in lincoln text to the bot.IMG: A seven paragraph narrative bot output. Obviously failed my test if you've read the fic.

-----

ANYWAY

If you're not already on ao3, I recommend signing up. This isn't a threat to leave, but I may not put everything on Tumblr forever. My AO3 profile.

Edit: I like tumblr because I like answering lore and questions and getting thots, plus my blog is very multimedia with many awesome contributions from different people. Please help keep it that way, because your interaction is why I'm here. I value everyone's engagement here.

For many reasons, I'm less and less comfortable with Tumblr being the primary home for all my writing. I'm aware people can still take things from AO3, but not as easily. I'm trying to be nice by preemptively suggesting people sign up on AO3 if they want to read everything. If it's not worth the trouble to you, just don't do it.

----

Ty very much to those who have been supportive and checked on me. It means a lot. I will admit this made me put on a hat and cry in public lol.

feel free to rb this because idk if everyone realizes the extent of this or how jarring it can look.

#cw discourse #anti ai #taps mic

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yuri-is-online · 7 months

Note

Hello author!! Congrats on 500 followers! I love the way you wrote "Plead the Fifth", Floyd's callback to the Portfest event was my favorite part. If its okay, can I pls request prompt 12 with Jade, Riddle, and Jamil? Thank you! 🫶💙

12. You had a wonderful time dancing and flirting with someone at the ball, only to find out from your friends the next day that was your crush. And you have no idea if they knew it was you they were dancing with.

Bless you for catching that friend I was a bit worried no one would know what I was talking about. I thought it was so funny how offended they all got at being called adorable! other than Rook but yk

EDIT: I straight up did not realize I wrote this for Riddle twice oh my fucking god. I'm so sorry please feel free to message me with a separate request I am so sorry again my brain is fried.

notes: they/them used for Yuu. Severe violations of privacy and playing with emotions for Jade, and Jamil is fresh out of clown school, let us pray. I was listening to dancing with a stranger on loop while writing this so sorry if they're a bit angsty. The other event requests can be found on my masterlist here.

Jade

"Look." Jade is smiling and Azul has a tension headache. "You see how they've played this particular song fourteen times today? They're going to try and switch things up and listen to something else after the sixteenth loop but-"

"What in the hell does this have to do with anything?" Azul asks to be charitable, he already knows what this is about. Or he thinks he does anyway.

"I was wondering if you would be so kind as to add it to the playlist for the Lounge. Just for tonight." There is a really strange tone to Jade's excitement, almost like he has no idea what he is doing and is just as thrilled by that as he was whatever brought him home in such a... state last night.

"Because if I don't you'll add it yourself and give Floyd back the password to the account?"

"I am so very glad we could reach a mutual understanding." Of course Jade has a plan, it had started formulating the instant he saw you dressed up for the formal Crowley had put together.

Boring. That's what this night was supposed to be. These masks were supposed to hide people's faces, sure but he knows them too well. Maybe if this was a different school where people were less predictable- But then there was you, and all his reason fell away.

"May I have this dance, stranger?" He is surprised you accept, delighted with how natural it feels to follow his lead. He was expecting this to be much, much harder.

"I was wondering when you were going to ask." You sound shy, flattered even, without the defensiveness he usually associates with the lead up to your trysts. Could it be- "I thought I felt someone watching me." -you do not know. The mask has worked for one lucky eel.

"Ah prefect," he greets you as usual, with a bow and a gesture to an empty seat "always so good to see you at the Mostro." This time he has selected a booth out of the way, towards the back and far too big for just one customer. Pity you hadn't brought those small fry with you, he was so looking forward to letting Floyd play with them. "Did you come here with something in mind? Or shall I make a suggestion?" You are so nervous you don't notice that he has failed to give you a menu until you finally bother to look up at him.

"I really just came here to talk..." how painful, you are looking away again. Jade is sure he is the best looking fish here, if you are that desperate to see him in the water he can certainly improvise.

"I am always willing to lend a sympathetic ear." He bends at the waist to hover his face just above yours, so close that you are force to return your eyes to his again. He watches as your pupils dilate and breath catches as the music in the lounge plucks a familiar song as if his magic lets him read minds.

"Go fuck yourself." It's missing the venom he'd like but as he traces your jawline with his gloved hand directly over the lipstick stains he'd left last night he thinks to himself that he is just fine with that. Jade is not in the mood to share your fire, it is such a rare thing for a mer to see after all.

"I would much prefer to leave that to you." He kisses you, quickly before you can fully ignite and waste your precious sparks on the public. "Funny story actually, I had such a nice time at the Masquerade last night I thought we should have ourselves another little date tonight. Do be gentle with me, I only had so much time to prepare." But waste or no he cannot deny himself the satisfied laugh that spills from him when you yank him back into a kiss and prevent him from running his mouth. Just what is he to do with you? Oh he has so many ideas...

Jamil

"Ha I thought I'd find you here." Jamil does his best to ignore Ace's voice, instead focusing on the hoop and sinking his throws into the net. Forty-One. "Aww not gonna ask any questions?" Forty-Two. "You know they talked to me. They always do." Forty-Three. "Said some reeeeeeal interesting stuff." Forty-Four. "Mushy too. Like seriously, you should both just get over yourselves and-"

Forty-Five. Jamil purposefully bounces the ball off the ground hard, not even bothering to watch Ace scramble to avoid it before shoves his face into his towel as if it can wipe away his embarrassment as well as his sweat.

"They are better off not knowing." He catches the ball Ace tries to hit him with, taking a little delight in how annoyed his junior looks before he realizes that it isn't going away as quickly as Ace's other pouts.

"Seriously? Where'd you get that idea from?" He sounds angry, Jamil has to remind himself and the seething pit in his stomach that Ace is Yuu's... friend. They are just friends who spend a lot of time alone. Alone together. Alone together inside a dormitory where Yuu live practically alone, a lot of times on nights when Jamil is alone in Scarabia with preparations for a party you aren't guaranteed to attend unlike those Unbirthday Party's Riddle has that you are at so much you might as well be part of his dorm.

Not that Jamil thinks about that a lot or is thinking about that at all when he gives Ace his best "superiority" complex smile.

"They were willing to make out with a stranger behind some thick curtains, clearly they don't have any strong feelings for anyone in the school and I would just be-"

"Has it ever occurred to you that you are responsible for this situation in the fucking first place." This isn't normal jokey Ace. Normal "girls just wanna have fun Ace," no this is Ace as serious as Jamil wishes he always would be during... anything at all really. Funny how that side only ever seems to come out when he needs to distract someone. Funny how the pit is screaming how it only ever comes up when he is talking about you. "You get close to them one day, then you insist you can't talk to them because you are too busy taking care of Kalim. You give take advantage of them not being from Twisted Wonderland to give them things anyone would recognize as being romantic gifts but roll your eyes at the idea when confronted. Seriously it is a miracle they still like you and didn't think to try getting over you sooner."

Yuu is kissing him. They have what they can grasp of his face in their hands and are kissing him so painfully slowly. It's too much to bear, he can't keep to his senses and denial. Jamil pulls them further behind the curtains and kisses them. For one brief incandescent moment he allows himself to believe this is fated. That if the masks were gone, that if you were under the Scarabia curtains you would be holding onto his shirt just as tightly.

"You told them didn't you?" Ace doesn't bother to actually answer, the footsteps echoing down the hallway as he goes to leave answers Jamil’s question for him.

You are always beautiful. His breath catches in his throat when he sees you, the pit swallowing itself as he realizes the urgency to the speed at which you close the gap but pause just before making it into his personal space.

“Can we talk?” Ace’s words from earlier echo in his mind. Has it ever occurred to you that you are responsible for this?

“Of course.” He purposefully places the basketball back onto the rack he had been using as an excuse to center himself. “Would you let me take you to dinner?”

“No.” You sound as if you hate yourself for saying it, but the instant it leaves your lips he smiles. “No, I need you to tell me here because I can’t stand this stupid game of you taking your insecurities out on me. Just what do I need to do for you to understand…” Your nerve seems to be failing you now that he’s right in front of you. But he isn’t cruel enough to make you wait.

“I like you.” It’s not all of what you want to hear, and not all of what he wants to say. But he’s in a sweaty gym uniform and you look like you’ve been crying. Apologies are best made with food, and he loves you well enough to know your worry’s been eating at your apatite as much as it has his.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #jamil viper x reader #500 followers celebration

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writingquestionsanswered · 2 months

Note

Silly questions, but... for my peace of mind, I have to ask: do you ever get sick of us? I've sent a lot of questions over the course of the time I've followed you, and some days I worry that I annoy you with them. Especially if it's something that's been asked before.

I Love Answering Questions, But...

This question just came in, but I have a few minutes so I wanted to answer really quick...

This question made me laugh (in the BEST way), so thank you! ♥

The short answer is 'no,' I never get sick of the questions or feel annoyed by anyone.

The long answer is this: there are three things that do cause me some frustration, and they are...

1 - People don't read the ask policies before asking questions - At the bottom of almost every post there's a link to my ask policies, which is mainly a list of topics I won't cover for various reasons. Yet you'd be astounded by how many people still ask those questions. I used to re-post redacted versions and dance around the answers, but it just takes time away from questions that follow the rules. So, from now on, I will be outright deleting questions that violate my ask policies.

2 - People don't check the master list of posts - I get a fair amount of questions that could have been answered by a quick spin through my master list of posts. However, I do understand that tumblr mobile is garbage and the master list can be a little daunting, so I don't mind dropping in a few quick links if someone isn't able to find what they're looking for. I just prefer that people take a few minutes to try before sending their question in.

3 - Three-figure word count asks - The day tumblr dropped the word limit on asks was the day my quick turnaround disappeared forever. When there was a limit, people had to be thoughtful about how they worded their questions. They really had to think about what information was the most important, and really put thought into how best to frame their question. Now I get exhaustive plot summaries, truck loads of unnecessary details, the same question phrased six ways in one question... overnight, I got an ask that is over 400 words long. That is roughly two pages in a trade paperback book. Not only do these excessively long questions take me longer to read and think through, but they take me longer to answer because I have to edit them for length and content. So, I do wish more people would take the time to edit themselves when asking their questions.

And now I've exceeded my few extra minutes, but don't worry, that cuts into my own writing time, not question answering time. That's on the schedule for later today, so see you then! Thanks for your question! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

Please allow up to two weeks for a response. ♥

#wqaadvice

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pommunist · 2 months

Note

Hi, I hope your day is going as well it can be with all the news

Would it be possible to get an explanation on why the union did not initiate contact besides on Twitter? I'm not French, but is not contacting the other party common practice there? Does like the whole 'We asked him to work with us on Twitter' hold up in court? In addition if you don't mind summarizing how the laws work?

Sorry if this comes across as harsh, it's really more confusion and curiosity. Plus whenever I'm nervous, I sound like a robot. But if this gets answered great, if not thank you for all your posts on the situation going on.

Au revoir and best of wishes again (if you've already answered this already sorry and I think that's how you spell it I haven't taken French in years)

Hey finally getting to answering this !

Ok so first : Do I think the union could have sent an email ? Yes and that would have been a great thing. Now my beef is with people complaining that they didn’t as if it’s their fault that communication is this case is so bad.

So first, it’s common (at least in France) for unions to release public statements when they’ve stumbled upon a case of a company mistreating their workers in any way. This is usually to 1) Collect more testimonies if there are any 2) Let the public know that said company is hurting their workers so that people can be aware that this is what they support if they still give money to said company

The union here wasn’t obligated to help, they chose to step up after Lea’s statement since the admins testimonies revealed multiple workers rights violations in Qstudios. Their goal was for the admin’s rights to be recognised so they could work in lawful conditions. The best way to that is to try to reach an amicable solution (no one involved probably wants to go to court as it it long tiring and expensive).

So yeah you should see that in a « You did something bad, we are willing to offer our help, if you’re interested by said help please contact us » thing. I would also like to reiterate that it shouldn’t be up to the victims side to be the one trying to right the wrongs of the company.

How would Qstudios not answering a Twitter statement hold up in court ? It wouldn’t because it’s not even the point : Legally the problem is the lack of communication with the workers, not with the union. A company don’t have to work with an union and the union didn’t have to offer them their help.

I feel like I didn’t express my thoughts in the best way rip, hope it still makes sense somewhat ! I would be glad to explain how the law works here just ask me precisely about what bc french law is a big big can of worms 😭

(Also labour law isnt my specialty however I do know the basics)

and yes ahah that’s how you type au revoir

#qsmp discourse

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porcupine-girl · 2 years

Text

Tumblr: Myth vs Fact

People have been talking a lot about Tumblr on Twitter lately (for no reason whatsoever), but that also means a lot of misinformation is going around. So if you're coming from Twitter, I would like to clear up a few misconceptions, starting with:

Myth: Tumblr is dead. It died with the Dec 2017 porn ban and now it's a ghost town.

Fact

Well, okay, yes, it did die with the Dec 2017 porn ban. Mostly. But it got better! On November 5, 2020, Destielpocalypse happened and Tumblr rose from the grave. Since then it hasn't been as busy as in, say, 2015, but it's gotten over its death and has had a steady stream of traffic ever since.

See the rest below the cut!

Myth: Tumblr is where all the drama and discourse starts.

Fact

Again, this hasn't been true in quite a while. When Tumblr died in 2017, most of the people responsible for the discourse moved to Twitter. Since then, it's been pretty chill, even after Destielpocalypse resurrected it. People like to say that Twitter is just Tumblr five years ago, and... it's pretty true right now, at least in the drama department. We'd appreciate it if you didn't try to change that.

Myth: Porn is allowed again on Tumblr!

Fact

Sadly, this is not true. However, nudity is allowed now. Just no visual depictions of explicit sex acts. Here is a pretty detailed explanation from the CEO of Automattic (the company that owns Tumblr) on why they can't bring porn back right now, even though he would like to.

Note that this only applies to visual depictions. Explicit text (yes, that means smutty fanfic) has always been allowed.

Myth: You should never add anything to a post you reblog.

Fact

Actually, one of the really cool things about Tumblr is how a post can grow and develop with every new addition! Simple Tumblr posts have turned into repositories of useful information or complex scifi world-building thanks to users collectively adding cool stuff with each reblog, or sometimes just asking relevant questions for others to answer in their reblogs.

But you don't have to add anything in order to reblog! Most people don't! And if you have something to say that doesn't really add to the post (like "Cute!") or is just for your followers, it can go in the tags.

Which brings us to a related myth:

Myth: There is a complicated system of etiquette around reblogging and tagging and if you don't follow it everyone will point and laugh.

Fact

Okay, there are some general etiquette guidelines that have developed that most people follow. Like the above, about only adding onto a post if you have something substantive to say and putting other comments in the tags. I'm sure you've seen rules like this around.

But these are flexible and nobody is going to hate you for violating them now and then. If you reblog something and forget and add "Cute!" to the post instead of in a tag, nobody is going to dogpile you. Worst case, people will click back to the reblog before yours and reblog it from there instead of reblogging yours. Or they might just reblog yours because tbh it doesn't really detract from the post. Just don't be rude, and remember that the OP and everyone who sees the post can see your tags very easily now.

The main thing is please do reblog stuff! That is the #1 way posts get new viewers (see below, most people turn the algorithm off). You don't have to add anything or even tag it; reblogging it is just a way to say "hey followers, look at this neat thing I found!"

Don't let the idea that you're not reblogging "correctly" prevent you from reblogging at all.

Myth: It's cringe to reblog old stuff, or to go through and reblog/like lots of things from someone's blog.

Fact

Posts are made for reblogging. We are all here for the reblogging. We want you to reblog. There are posts from 2012 or even older still making the rounds. If someone stumbles on my blog and reblogs a bunch of old stuff in a row, I'm just happy that they enjoyed my blog.

If OP doesn't want a post to be reblogged anymore, they now have the ability to turn reblogging off. Otherwise, reblog away.

Myth: Tumblr is the golden land of no algorithms!

Fact

Tumblr is the golden land of allowing you to avoid the algorithm if you so choose.

Most Tumblr users changed these settings years ago and have been living algorithm-free for so long they forget that when you first sign up, it does have an algorithm unless you turn it off.

Here is how to customize your viewing experience (on the app):

From your blog (the little people in the bottom right corner), hit the Settings wheel in the top right corner.

Go to General settings

Go to Dashboard preferences

The first four are all various algorithms. Best stuff first reorders your dash by algorithm - if you turn it off, it's all chronological all the time. 2-4 add extra stuff to your dash that the algorithm thinks you'll like. If you turn them off, you will ONLY see what's on the blogs you follow. (Note: if you turn off "Include followed tag posts" you can still view the tags you follow in the "Your Tags" tab at the top of your dash.)

4b - If you want to view mature stuff (nudes but also violence or anything drug/alcohol related) go to Content You See and turn it on. It's off by default. This is also where you can set tags or keywords you want hidden.

(These settings can all be found in similar places on desktop.)

Even after you do all this, if you really want to see what the algorithm has to say, just go to the For You tab. It will... probably convince you that you made the right choice in turning all of this off. Tumblr's algorithm really isn't that great, and we're fine with that.

Myth: Neil Gaiman is an active Tumblr user.

Fact

@neil-gaiman has no social media.

Myth: Supernatural is a television show that went off the air two years ago and is no longer relevant.

Fact

Welcome, you are now on the Supernatural website, where even if there wasn't a prequel series currently at this very moment airing, Supernatural will never die. Or will die and be resurrected repeatedly. It will probably creep into something on your dash eventually. Mute a few keywords if you don't want it, but brace for the occasional gif anyhow.

#tumblr #intro to tumblr #twitterpocalypse #notes

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

Note

AITA for inquiring after a blog that got deleted?

This happened several months ago and my friends have told me that I wasn't in the wrong, but my stupid anxiety keeps bringing it up and saying actually they only told me that because they like me. Maybe the judgement of strangers will finally get my brain to put it to rest. Repliers, please use she/her pronouns only for me, I don't like being called by they/them.

I'm keeping this vague to respect the privacy of the others involved; if you somehow recognize the situation, please do not give further details. Feel free to ask for clarification if something is confusing, but I will not be providing additional information like what fandom it was as I believe that would just risk revealing who was involved, and I can't think of any additional info that would affect someone's judgement of what I did. I would like judgement of what I did without risking violating anyone else involved's privacy. Also, sorry this is so long. It's the ADHD. I hate it too.

I'm relating the dms involved as closely as I can, but they won't be word-for-word.

I follow several roleplay blogs in the same fandom. One day I noticed one that I particularly liked seemed to have been deleted. I wasn't sure if they'd made a goodbye post I didn't see before deleting or something, so I made a post asking if anyone knew if something had happened with their mod, as it seemed to come out of nowhere to me. No one ever interacted with this post, but I have no way of knowing if people saw it.

I messaged a blog that I had seen interact with them a lot asking something like "hey, do you know if something happened with [blog]'s mod? I noticed they had deleted and was wondering if something happened." They replied with the single word "no" and I thanked them and apologized for bothering them. This one word was the only thing they ever said to me. I took this to mean that they didn't know if anything had happened, but didn't try to investigate further. I was vaguely concerned that they seemed to have suddenly disappeared without anyone knowing, but it wasn't my place to try and dig things up.

A couple days later I was scrolling back through a different blog and I noticed an old post they'd reblogged from the person who deleted's sideblog, and the sideblog had also been deleted. I sent a dm asking something like "Hey, I noticed [blog] and [sideblog] were both deleted, and was wondering if you knew if the mod was alright" and received a response just saying that no one wanted to make what happened public, least of all the mod. I thanked them for responding, apologized for prying, and said I hoped things were alright, then deleted my post asking if anyone knew what had happened, so that people couldn't stumble on it, get curious, and try and pry themselves.

Very shortly after, I received an anonymous ask scolding me for prying into the mod's business when they wanted things kept quiet and continuing after being told no. I posted the anon and explained that I hadn't meant to pry - just was wondering if things were okay - and that I must have misinterpreted that first "no", apologized if I'd made anyone uncomfortable, and made it clear I would absolutely not ask further. That was the end of it, at least as far as I know.

I think I might be the asshole because: I didn't know the mod, we'd never talked beyond their answering some of my asks, but I asked people about them anyways. I was genuinely wondering if they were okay and was careful not to ask what happened, but I know I can have trouble finding the line between normal and nosy, and maybe messaging two people was too far, even if the first person seemed to not know anything.

I think I might not be the asshole because: I wasn't asking for details on what happened, I was just wondering if they were okay or if I'd missed a goodbye post, and backed off immediately after being told it was private. I don't think it's really my fault that I misinterpreted the first person saying "no" to me asking if they knew if something had happened, since I thought they were literally answering my question.

Again, please do not try to figure out who was involved in this if you think you recognize it; I just want my brain to stop turning this damn situation over and over and maybe having strangers judge it will do that.

So. AITA for asking after someone who deleted their roleplay blog?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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mybworlds · 5 months

Text

CHAPTER 4

status: ongoing

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: your life is full of 'must'. You live with your overprotective mother who controls every aspect of your life. You have a dream, to write romance novels, but love - real love - you haven't found yet. Your mother has even decided what you must do in your free time: play music. One day, however, when you go to your music teacher's house, you will have an unexpected encounter and from that day on things change…

rating: 18+ explicit (minors, DNI)

Masterlist

Before to start... thank you for your support and likes, and please remember English is not my first language, so be kind!

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

The following day, you start your shift at 6 A.M. It's freezing. People come in with gloves, hats, thick scarves and snow boots.

"It's going to be a tough shift." says Helen, one of your few close friends "I lit the fire, but it seems to be a wiring problem." she adds with a snort, while you turn on the various equipments, detach the arm of the coffee machine, and you start cleaning and maintenance everything.

"Don't worry. Surely things will improve in a while," you say in a vain attempt to think positive and think that everything can't ever be all bad.

"A large coffee." says one of the first customers. You quickly prepare everything and serve it.

"A cappuccino." says someone else.

"A coffee with vodka." you're practically spinning like a top.

It's almost 7 A. M. and you find yourself yawning, tired. Maybe due to your hard shift and the night spent thinking about those sweet dark eyes and that face that somehow bewitched you.

"Didn' sleep?" asks a voice while you're yawning that forces you to cover your mouth and eye-popping.

It's Joel.

A gnns-like response comes out of your mouth that makes him smile.

"What are you doing here?" you ask him. It's an obvious question considering you are in a coffee shop.

"I'd like a coffee." he replies shrugging his shoulders.

Only then, you look at him more carefully, his dark curly hair messed up as if he just run his hand through his hair, he is wearing a dark jacket and dark pants.

"Comin' right up." you say running behind the counter, your hands trembling.

"So, you work here?" he asks sitting on a stool on the other side of the counter.

"Yes." you reply, looking at the coffee grinder into which you drop the mixture.

You feel his eyes follow you every step of the way, and you feel uncomfortable for the first time. It's something practically every customer does, but if it's Joel, well it's different. It's not the first time he does, he did it yesterday in class too, but it's different here in your workplace. It's as if he's entered a personal sphere of you, and allowing him to look inside makes you feel like violated.

You shake your head, it's just a job and he's just a customer you're making coffee, nothing more.

Helen looks first at you and then at him, then back at you with a complicit and amused look and serves breakfast to another customer.

"Nice place." he says looking around "Are croissants fresh?" he asks you.

"Given the temperature they'll be frozen!" you exclaim smiling looking in his direction and making him chuckle.

"Good one!" he agrees "Actually, it's freezing here." he adds looking around.

"The heating system isn't working properly today!" interjects Helen.

Joel looks at her with raised eyebrows, then his eyes wander over her and you "Just today or even past few days?" he asks as he gets up from his stool.

"It's … at least three days," you say shrugging your shoulders.

"And you work here in a freezer!" he bursts out shaking his head "When you call someone to fix it?! You'll catch a pneumonia, girls," he adds.

"It's okay, we're kids," you reply using an offended tone.

"Where's the boiler? I'll take a look." says Joel looking around.

"Don't worry, you don't have to." you say, at the same time Helen says, "Over there, behin' the door."

Joel thanks her and walks away, you shoot your friend a disapproving look "What?" she asks.

"Why did you tell him to do that?"

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" she asks you, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. You hate when she assumes that pose.

"He's my music teacher, okay?" you tell her looking to the door where Joel walked in.

"He looks like someone who knows what's up," she says.

You nod, pursing your lips.

"And he's very handsome too," she adds.

"Stop it!" you claim, widening your eyes.

"Are you jealous?" she asks giving you a little nudge.

"What? No. He's not my type." you reply, although you realize you can't tell or be absolutely certain.

"That's everyone's type." she winks at you, "If I introduced him to Gina, she would probably give him a blowjob by now."

"Ssshhh!" you shut her "Not now and not here. It bothers me when you talk openly about these things!"

Helen laughs winking at you "Go and see if your non-type needs help or a hand."

You glare at her before stepping out from behind the counter and going to see.

"May I come in?" you say softly, opening the door; Joel is right back there. His gaze is so absorbed that he gives you an almost stern look, but then in a few seconds he gives you a gentle and sweet look "How's it going? Can you figure it out?"

He gives you a little smile and replies, "This is a small part of my job. You know, among other things, I like to carve wood and make small sculptures. I think you watched 'em." you nod, remembering about those small wood carvings reproducing animals.

"Is there anything you're not good at?" you ask smiling at him and making him smile.

"There are many things I can't do."

"Give me an example."

"The way you prepared coffee, the best I can do is to put in a waffle."

You smile, shaking your head, "It's very simple instead. You'd learn immediately with a little practice."

He smiles again to turn his attention back to the boiler, you see him intent on tightening the bolts with a tool that you never seen the point or its specific name. You watch his big hands and feel a strange sensation to think about how they can be so gentle playing a guitar and so strong fixing a boiler.

"That's it! Everything should work now, go turn it on." you do it immediately "Good and now let's have breakfast!" he exclaims "Ah, wait a minute where is the bathroom? I need to wash my hands." he says.

You point to a door on the left so he can use the bathroom.

You, meanwhile, return behind the counter; two more customers have arrived who fortunately want a coffee only and leave.

After a while, Joel returns with a huge smile and sits on the same stool as before.

"Before you mentioned about the croissants," he says, "What's today's flavor?"

"Cream croissant, croissant with apricot, cherry cornetti, chocolate croissant, simple croissant. If I may suggest, I recommend a honey cornetto, it's heavenly." you say with a smile.

He smiles looking in your eyes, "Have you tried it? From the look on your face I'd say so."

You get close placing your forearms on the counter so you can be very close to him "Well, I can tell you, I stole it once and that was my lunch. It was the best thing about that day."

Only then, you realize you got too close, swallowing hard, you're mesmerized by those melted chocolate eyes.

"All right. Let's go with Honey cornetto." he says without breaking eye contact with you "Two."

You smile back at him, returning his gaze and moving away from him to take the croissants "You eat 'em now?"

"No, thank you. Could ya put 'em in a bag?" he asks you.

You just nod with a little smile.

"When are you going to dip his fingers in your honey jar?" Helen asks you in an ear making your eyes roll.

"Helen!" you exclaim, pushing her.

"Thank God he was boring! I'd like someone like him would teach me something every day," she says glancing at Joel.

"Helen, stop it! And then lower your voice, don't make a bad impression!" you exclaim in shock.

"I'm making these appreciations, not you!" she retorts with a complicit smile "Besides, judging by the way you've approached and the way he's staring at you dumbfounded…my guess is there's something going on!"

"Stop it!" you exclaim, turning away from her and approaching Joel.

"Tonight you tell us everything," she adds as a threat.

You look back at her and slip out something like I kill you, she smiles naively and goes back to work.

When you look at Joel, you realize he is watching you with curiosity "Are you okay? Did your friend say too much?"

Gotcha.

"Yes." you immediately try to change the topic giving him the croissants "She's like that, so what - what are we going to do later?" you ask him.

"What did she tell you that was so special to make you blush like that?" he persists.

"Um, no, nothing. You'd laugh, maybe," you answer evasively.

"About you? I don't think so." he says without looking away from you and grabbing the bag you are handing him "Go ahead!"

You widen your eyes "Um…" if it's possible you blush even more "no, it's nothing. Um, I was just falling before with some coffee and croissants, that's all." you say without sharing a look.

You're absolutely sure he didn't believe your answer, but he decides not to ask more questions.

So much better!

When you leave the bar at the end of your shift, you find Joel's SUV outside. He honks his horn and you pull up, open the door, and immediately you are greeted by the hot air conditioning in the cabin and that warm smile that has been accompanying your days recently.

"Hi." you say as you relax into the seat.

"Hi." he says and then pulls off his gloves and leans toward you and, in a gesture that surprises you greatly, takes your hands in his. His hands are so big that yours feel like a child's by comparison. His are so warm, so….

You almost feel like you're coming short of that feeling, that warmth, and not just physical; something warms inside you. Something unfamiliar that makes your heart flutter once again.

"Good thing, I can feel you've been warm," he comments, smiling at you and making you smile.

"Yes, well a guy came today. He wanted to have breakfast, but then he had the goodness to fix the boiler!" you exclaim jokingly about the episode.

"Oh yeah?" he asks you "Do I know him?" he adds mockingly, turning away from you.

"Um, I think so, you know," you say "He's a good man, confident, witty, smart."

"He seems like a clever guy." he remarks, releasing the hand brake and putting on the right-hand blinker.

"Yes. Although he does everything to seem obnoxious," you tease him.

"So, I must know him, we'll get along fine!" he exclaims, smiling and turning his gaze toward you.

See him so relaxed and happy warms your heart.

You share a serene and happy look, a look that makes your stomach clench in a so new and so unique feeling.

"Besides, if he goes to that place, he definitely drinks the best coffee in town!" he exclaims, making you blush.

"It's due to the mixture, it's not me," you whisper, lowering your gaze.

He calls your name and you look up meeting his eyes "Never look down. You're a good kid, you're sweet, you're polite, you lack nothing to be less than others." he reminds you making you feel special for a moment, you who have always been like a fish out of water, out of place, partly because of your manly nature and partly because of how your mother treats you. You always thought that no one appreciates you beyond your dullness.

You smile at him, "Thank you."

He smiles "And then I like your sweetness mixed with the will to fight all the time." he says reaching out a hand to your face and caressing your cheek with the back of his hand in a very sweet gesture.

"You're perfect just the way you're." he tells you, making you widen your eyes in wonder. You are almost shocked by his words.

"I don't… I don't know what to say."

And it's true, you don't know what to say. What do you say when someone - someone like him - tells you that you're perfect just the way you are?

He smiles at you, "Don't say anything."

You don't really know why your eyes rest on his lips, they're so perfect, they're -- you've never wanted a kiss like in that moment. You've already kissed or, rather, been kissed a couple of times at school, but the feeling wasn't as good or romantic as you would have liked or hoped, and most of all maybe the two boys weren't people you'd want to kiss as much as you'd want to kiss Joel Miller right now.

A horn honks not so far from you breaking that flow of thoughts and bringing Jack back to your mind.

You'd like to know Jack, you feel there may be a connection with him, but at the same time you want to know Joel and you enjoy his company.

You remain almost silent on the road to his house, or at least you think you are going there, you just give each other long silent glances.

You don't know how it's possible, but between the you of you it's growing a singular and curious relationship in such a short time, it's so natural, so willing. You feel as if you're crossed by unexpected and unfamiliar shocks that shake and shock you at the same time. Joel is this shock, his warm dark eyes, his hypnotic gaze, his smile or even just that little grin that ripples one corner of his mouth creating those extremely sexy wrinkles.

You never thought you'd look at wrinkles as something sexy in a man. But as you've had occasion to think several times these days, Joel is an exception.

"Can I ask you something?" he says breaking the silence.

"Sure." you answer, looking at him.

"Why did you treat me that way when we first met?"

You remember the feeling you got at first sight, a fine - looking man, dark eyes, grim look at first and then curious, hands on hips, but most of all the way he talked to you, sharply and most of all he hurt your feelings.

"Hear those words like get back to your bubble or hurry back to Mommy … they … kind of shook me up, that is. No one had ever spoken to me like that, no one had hurt me like that in that tone," you answer him.

"And did I?" he asks you.

"Yes." you decide to be honest. It hurt you. "That's why I used that tone with you." you see him nod "Do you still think I'm a little thing that just shuts up and keeps quiet?"

He looks at you with a half-smile "'m I wrong or I called you pretty little thing, ain't I?"

You look away and observe the landscape outside, realizing you left the town "Where are we going?"

"Into the woods." he replies, you look at him with curiosity "I'm still the big bad wolf." he adds laughing and making you shake your head with a half-smile.

Maybe you shouldn't trust him. Your mother always told you not to trust strangers, never to accept anything from them, never to get in the car with any of them.

With Joel it's different, too. A bad person wouldn't fixed the boiler, wouldn't waited for your mother to pick you up, wouldn't said those nice words to you like he did.

You don't know much about it, but you know you can trust him.

"Scared?" he asks, looking at you briefly and then looking back toward the road.

You shake your head "No, curious."

He smiles, you are sure he is smiling. You, on the other hand, observe the road covered - and getting covered - with snow.

It's true. With him, you are not afraid.

You are agitated, yes, but it is an agitation different from fear and worry. It is something new that you have never experienced, but that you intend to discover, and you can only do so if you are next to him.

"Aren't you afraid to drive in this weather?" you ask him sincerely curious.

"I've driven in hail, with sheets of ice on the road, no one has ever stopped me," he answers you with the wink of someone who knows better.

You swallow.

Why do you get the feeling he's not just talking about the weather?

You breathe deeply.

"I need to give you a few more lessons, I guess." he says causing you to turn suddenly in his direction "I was talking about driving lessons." he clarifies probably noticing your shocked look.

You swallow again.

You feel like an idiot.

Now he'll have bad thoughts about you, he'll start to think you're just a stupid, inexperienced, useless little girl.

"Okay." you just say.

"Don't." he says pressing very slightly on the brake pedal.

"What?"

"Don't think badly of you." he replies in an obvious tone as if he can reads your mind even though you didn't expose your thoughts "You'll learn. Everyone does. Why shouldn't ya?"

He told you a lot of things since you met, all beautiful things that warm your heart and soul. How strange life is! Until a few days ago you believed your whole life would always unfold with a precise, regular cadence and that nothing would ever interrupt that predetermined flow. Then, Joel arrived and with him so many words, so many special situations, so many looks you never received before.

You're sure, he's just nice, maybe he's like that with everyone. After all, you don't know anything about him!

The car stops.

You are in front of a very small cabin in the woods with a sloping roof and a chimney. You get out with a giant smile forgetting about ice and indeed, as soon as you put your feet outside of the car you slip sideways.

"Are you hurt?" asks Joel coming toward you putting your hands and helping you up.

You don't know if your knee hurts more or your already weak ego.

"No." you reply, but a grimace appears on your face immediately unveiling you.

"Doesn't look like that to me." he says looking at your legs "Stop here, 'm going to open it." he says moving away.

"I'm good, don't worry," you tell him, but after a half step, your face winces into another grimace of pain.

You hear him open the door then he turns around "You're such a stubborn little thing!" he exclaims.

He makes to duck, but you block him by placing your hands on his forearms "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking you inside." he replies and without adding anything else, he lifts you up in his arms and with great strides you go inside. His grip is firm, holding you by the shoulders and popliteal cord. Your heart speeds up.

It lays you on what you feel is a chair. You see nothing, everything is dark. You see only the light coming through the door. You hear him open the windows and the light invades the interior, which, judging by the smell, had not been opened in several years. All the furniture and armchairs are covered with more or less large sheets, there is even one on the floor not far from you, and you sense that the chair on which you now stand was also covered. You see him walk over to the door and close it.

"I'm sorry for the mess, but…" you see him looking around and see him intent on removing the sheets, you notice small knick-knacks and also some pictures "it's been a long time since I've been here." he approaches you "How do ya feel?" he kneels before you laying a hand on your knee.

"Well, it hurts a little," you answer him with a small grimace on your face "I'm sorry."

"Don't even joke!" he says gently taking your chin between thumb and forefinger with his other hand "It happens." he adds and then lets your chin out of his grip "You helped me come here and…" he looks around swallowing "well, thank you."

You look at him quizzically "I didn't do anything. You drove all the way here, you brought me here. I…didn't…"

He whispers and looks you in the eyes "Okay, maybe I need to explain… this was my parents' house and for a while I lived with…" he lowers his gaze taking a deep breath "since it happened, I haven't… I never came back here and I moved to the town." you nod as if you understood, actually you didn't understand much. Something bothers him, and you think it probably has something to do with the little girl in the picture or the woman who broke his heart. You don't tell him, however, that you know about who you think is his daughter, he might get furious and maybe throw you out of that cabin and with your knee in that condition you'd have trouble walking.

"What's bothering you?" you ask him, looking into his eyes.

He looks down, he's about to say something, but then he thinks better of it, you see him swallow and tighten his grip slightly on your knee. It doesn't hurt, but it makes you feel odd, an unfamiliar tingling.

"Time." he replies, "Have you ever had that, in spite of everything, time is running ahead of you and all you can do is go on, in spite of everything? Even if your heart and soul are broken, time, things go on anyway." he says taking a sad expression "I don't think I can accept it."

You let him talk by listening to him and trying to tell him what you can tell, you don't know what exactly happened and you don't want to upset him even more.

"If you want to talk, I'm listening," you tell him, stroking his hair in a spontaneous gesture. He looks at you and you stay like that, speechless, maybe he's bothered by the gesture, maybe he liked it, you can't understand his look. You stop immediately that pat not knowing if it bothered him or not, "I'm sorry if I off…" your words are interrupted as Joel comes dangerously close to your face, his forehead against your.

You raise an eyebrow, heart in your throat.

What's going on?

Your mouth is dry, you swallow vacuum.

You're in a complete silence that he can probably hear the beat of your heart, it beats fast, very fast. You're so inexperienced that you don't know what the next move is, well if you'd have a clear situation, you'd waited for a kiss from him, but you don't known him, you know nothing about each other.

He knows about you that you are a young woman caged by an apprehensive mother, and you about him that he's a very lonely man, but with a big heart. Is that enough?

Of course not.

But then why do you yearn for contact with his lips?

You're sure, if you'd had more experience, he would have kissed you already and…?

Oh, watch your thoughts, please!

Weren't you the one who wanted to meet the boy in the bar?

Then why are you thinking about Joel and would you like to kiss him?

Suddenly a flash of lightning, followed by a very violent clap of thunder that rattles the glass of the cabin, rips through that oh-so-perfect-yes, perfect-moment. You retreat and he does the same. You look toward the window, he gets up and goes to the window, you see him looking out, laying his hands on his hips, sighing heavily, and you see him shake his head.

Is he also thinking about how many strange moments are being created between you in such a short time?

The rain becomes torrential, then ends up as hail and finally snow. Joel looks outside several times, while you are lying on the double bed with your leg stretched out, ice packs and your head resting on the pillow. You would like to make yourself useful, but Joel has ordered you not to move. You hope with all your heart that you will soon be able to return home. You fear that your mother might return and not find you.

"I have bad news," Joel says at the door.

"What?"

"We're stuck." you swallow "I don't mind your company, but…"

"Did you try to-" you're about to say throwing yourself out of bed "AH!" you exclaim in pain.

"Stop!" he exclaims as he enters the room and comes toward you "You certainly for the time being better not rest your leg or walk on it! I'll take care of you." a warm feeling spreads in your chest "For the night I'll sleep on the couch and you here…"

"No way, your house, your bed."

"A lady always sleeps in the bed." you swallow "Seriously, I sleep over there."

"That couch can't hold me, how will it hold you?" you ask him sincerely concerned.

"Then I'll sleep on the floor, a safe sleeping bag is there somewhere," he says looking around and opening the closets. He picks up a thick red and green wool blanket and is about to leave the room, you stop him.

"Joel, I mean it. I'll sleep over there. Please don't make me feel like a burden." you say getting up anyway feeling a great pain in your knee.

He sighs heavily, shakes his head and comes toward you again "You are not a burden. You're a beautiful girl, you're so sweet, you're -- " you look into each other's eyes for a long time.

Why doesn't he speak?

What is he thinking about?

He looks away, "Nothing, um, never mind. Don't move, just lie back down. I'll get you more ice."

"If you open the door you'll find some fresh!" you exclaim.

He turns to you with a small smile, a smile you return with an amused air, then walks away.

Only then do you find yourself swallowing hard and realizing your heart is pounding. Is it not that you are beginning to like your music teacher?

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siffrin-enthusiast · 2 months

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hello! I don't follow you but I've seen your post about the fact Tumblr is banning trans women, black people and censoring posts about palestine for no reason float around, I had no idea that was happening, so thanks for pointing that out, but also, do you have more info on that? This might be a huge ask but this is such a strange and sad thing to hear about and I want to know more about it if that's okay.

hi anon! i would like to point out that i'm not one of the marginalized groups being censored by tumblr (as i'm a white, american transmasc) and i recognize that i'm very privileged to not have been censored and have the ability to speak on this, with resources predominantly gathered by trans women and people of color, so in future i would reccomend you ask someone who is a victim of transmisogyny/racism by the tumblr staff. that being said, i'll do my best to educate you and point you in some good directions. if anyone else wants to add anything that i missed to this, or correct any mistake i've made, feel free to do so!

tw for transphobia and screenshots of explicit calls to violence (there will be a clear TW so you know where it is.)

if this gets my account exploded, it’s been real.

the most recent example that made site-wide news was banning the transfemme user predestrogen (also known as rita) who was undergoing transphobic harassment and mass false-reporting for sfw pictures (here's a second tumblr user i found undergoing the same kind of harassment and here's a second account of rita's experience with photomatt from a friend of hers). she reported these threats and false reports, to no avail (as a post here details matt's response to terfism), and got pissed off and made a VERY obviously joking post about the site's ceo mattphoto’s car being exploded with hammers. this was very clearly one of the absurd joke threats tumblr is known for. this resulted in predestrogen getting banned, with matt nearly calling the police on her, and furthermore, followed onto twitter by matt.

here is the tumblr post in question that started everything.

here's one of MANY tweets of matt's to rita, and to do your own research a post i found with multiple more of them.

following users to a platform without them mentioning you? IS REALLY BAD. he deliberately searched for that account and sent multiple replies back to predestrogen. and hey, while we're here, he also..stalked the tags for a little while LMAO and kept replying to random users.

as you can hopefully see, this is very obviously a joke threat. "i hope your car is covered in exploding hammers" is not a credible threat of violence. all of this over..this post.

you don't even need to take my word for it. here is a dropbox folder of screenshots of his that you can personally look through.

please note that this is ONE recent example of a disabled trans woman being banned without violating the tumblr terms of service in the sea of many trans women and people of color who have likewised been banned despite not violating TOS, unlike a few that i can find within about three clicks from my post that went viral. i have reported both of the below replies openly calling for violence against immigrants in the comments of this post already yesterday, and they have not been removed.

tw: explicit calls for violence.

scroll past this section if you do not want to see them.

these are not joke threats. i don't think i need to explain why talking about shooting immigrants is really fucking bad. i’m aware that tumblr has to deal with a large number of reports, but i hope you can recognize the absurdity of exploding hammers being banned and having the threat of a police call and followed on a different platform while actively calling for death to immigrants remaining unchanged at the time of posting this.

tw ends here.

while we're here, have some receipts of matt being not exactly pro-palestine.

to show that this is not a one-time thing, here's him following a zionist on this platform. funnily enough, from math that i could be wrong about..

the right screenshot says transmascpetewentz reblogged with the pro-isreal comment eleven days after its original date, feburary 12th, which means feburary 23rd. which happens to be the same day photomatt followed petewentz. i am not saying matt followed petewentz because of this post, i just noticed a coincidence.

i encourage you to do your own research, ask trans women and people of color on this site, and come to your own conclusions, anon. i hope this could help point you in a helpful direction.

#trans #free palestine #kuiper asks #tw transphobes #transphobes #tw violence #transmisogny tw #predestrogen #photomatt #predstrogen

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seungxstar · 4 months

Text

para about my thoughts regarding the nim situation under the cut, bare with me.

once again, another well known bada writer deactivates after getting exposed for being a minor. thank you Eli, (@badasgirlfriend), for bringing this to light.

"coming onto tumblr as a minor is not a crime. it starts to become an issue when you flirt with adults who are multiple years older than you and are under the impression that you are also an adult. not only are you lying to their face, but you are violating their trust, and ultimately leaving them with a feeling of guilt, disgust, and self-hatred. what you do is harmful, end of discussion." — from melody, @allur1ngs.

adding on to melody's paragraph, i feel so so sick and disgusted from what has happened, this is definitely not okay and i do not condone it. what nim did was unacceptable. ignoring her smut writings and requests left and right, she was also publicly as well as privately flirting with people over 18, legal adults. i myself have been interacting with her for a bit, hence why I'm writing this at the moment.

though it's been a few hours since this whole thing unfolded, i still find myself in disbelief.

Nim, i don't even care if you're seeing this. but how could you do this to us? especially with your hate blog. we were all defending you and trying to protect you, only for it to turn out to be nothing more than a hoax? do you know how many people's trusts have been broken? we were all worried for you, only for you to be nothing more than a liar. i was thought that the blog sending my mutuals and I hate might be the same as yours. but now i know, whoever that hated on us was different. they were actual haters. yours was just a spare blog and an idea in your head that you thought would be funny. i hope you know the extent of what you've done, not to mention the smut reading and writing, the mountain of lies you said to cover one after another, being over 18 here while being an 08 there, how do you juggle with all your lies, I'm curious. intrigued, even.

"it was nice while it lasted"

i hope you had fun then.

on my own note, i am currently on a posting hiatus still as i am currently overseas, and i might extend my hiatus because this whole 'saga' has really brought me down way more than i thought it would. my writings will still come by, but on a later date. thank you for the sweet asks as well as care and concern for me, i appreciate it a lot. i also got quite a bit of asks regarding nim, and the best I'll do, no promises, is to answer a few asks that are genuine questions, but other than that, please do not send me or anyone else really asks about nim anymore.

also, learn your lesson nim.

#seungxstar

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nokingsonlyfooles · 1 year

Text

The Dark Secret of Kung Fu Panda (Part 1)...

... Shifu is kind of a shitty teacher.

But only if you live in the West!

Apparently, you all like Panda analysis, so let's talk about cross-cultural translations, Theravada Buddhism, filial piety, and the ultimate futility of writers trying to impart a specific interpretation to a diverse audience - just to start! Then, I'll come back on Thursday and we can unpack WTF is the deal with that Dragon Scroll.

American movies can pick up a lot of box office cash in China, so they try like hell to stay inoffensive and relevant to Eastern and Western audiences. Often, they fail spectacularly.

But Kung Fu Panda pulled it off! ...With just a little wobble on the dismount.

Chinese audiences have little to complain about when it comes to these guys:

But here in the West, we can't seem to stop coming up with reasons all three of 'em got a raw deal - even the ones who were a little bit genocide-y.

And especially this li'l guy.

Aw, no, look how cute!

People will bend over backwards to defend that cute kid (and sexy adult), to the point of throwing Oogway, Shifu, Po, Tigress, or the whole franchise under a bus.

There are folks out there who are gonna die mad about Tai Lung's lack of a redemption arc and humiliating demise. Like, literally.

To their credit, the Kung Fu Panda team caught this after some early screenings and tried to fix it. Tai Lung's betrayal and attempt to steal the scroll just wasn't enough, so they added a massacre, and every villain after Tai Lung had an impressive kill count woven into their backstory right from the start.

(Not that it necessarily helped, if you happen to look this bad boy up on DeviantArt.)

In a wuxia film, and in Chinese culture in general, betraying your father/teacher, and asking that they betray their father/teacher is more than enough to make a villain. Given that filial piety is the basis of all ethics, as taught by Confucius himself, what went down in the Jade Palace was an attempt to burn society itself to the ground, all because one guy felt entitled to a shiny piece of paper. That is Captain Planet levels of self-destructive evil.

All three movie villains pulled off some violation of this fundamental ethical duty. Tai Lung betrayed his father/teacher. Lord Shen betrayed his parents - and managed to let his teacher go, with sadness and disappointment on both sides. Kai betrayed his adoptive brother - although from his point of view, his brother betrayed him, so he may be the most sympathetic of them through this lens.

The only way to impart this level of wrong across cultures is to add a lot of murdering, and even then it doesn't quite scan. Tai Lung didn't even necessarily kill anyone in the village; cartoons get nervous about the word "die" around these here parts, so they just said he "laid waste." Well, that could mean a lot of things! Does that guy deserve decades of solitary in a hell-prison for (in my mind) doing nothing more than calling out an unfair action and leaving a bad Yelp review of Mr. Ping's noodles?

I can't trust a bird who eats noodles, I don't care how cute his hat is!

So, it's not just that the violation of ethics doesn't carry, the concept of "unfair" crept into a place where it really doesn't belong. Traditionally, it is perfectly acceptable for a Kung Fu Master to be a total piece of shit who motivates his students to learn out of sheer spite and puts them through hell.

Oh, yeah, I remember him. That moustache looks familiar...

If we're coming from a place where we buy that trope and expect it to be played straight, Shifu's mistake was being too nice to Tai Lung. His student's self-esteem was insufficiently crushed! That boy had the nerve to break his own Master's leg! Thank goodness Shifu became a cold, uncaring, emotionally-distant task master - just in time to raise Tigress right!

Yes. Good. Never let on that you're pleased with anything your student does. That'll keep 'em in line!

But a Western audience isn't going to buy that. Shifu just looks like a jerk, and Tigress is a jerk... In fact, all of the Five, save Viper (who is just that nice) seem like jerks, and Oogway is a troll.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you have something urgent to do? I think blowing out these candles, one-by-one, is rather important too."

Being an utter troll is also a valid way to teach kung fu, and Buddhist practices in general, which is definitely where Oogway is coming from. I peg him as a Theravada Buddhist, due to the way he teaches, and one scene in particular from the third movie.

Enlightenment isn't something you just hand over like a piece of paper, it's something everyone has to find for themself, in their own way. It's not possible to teach Tai Lung or Po self worth, and it's not possible to teach Shifu to lighten up, so the best a smart teacher can do is give them a good nudge, then step back and see what happens.

...Even if that "nudge" requires one to ascend to the Spirit Realm and leave your most stubborn student to clean up his own damn mess.

But there aren't as many Buddhists watching in the West, so what's a writer to do?

Well, they split the difference. Tigress did grow up better than Tai Lung, in accordance with the tropes, but it turns out she's not done learning and growing, and neither is Shifu (or the rest of the Five, but they don't get much of an arc. There are time constraints!). Their arrogance and lack of flexibility render them incapable of working with someone like Po - and they gotta figure out what they're doing wrong fast, 'cos Shifu's other teaching mistake is on his way back! In China, Shifu is learning to be a better teacher. In the West, he's learning to stop being a shitty teacher! And it takes him all three movies to grasp the humility he needs to learn from Po. Tigress, on the other hand, learns to respect Po and soft style by the end of film one.

When Western values are applied, Shifu comes off as a very slow learner, due to his own impatience and inability to slow down. But that's okay. He does learn, he's clearly trying, and we love him anyway.

Well, most of us do. Some of us can't get over that cute, fluffy little leopard, and we don't buy the (admittedly imperfect) attempt to make this story intelligible across cultures. These folks tend to focus their ire, much like Tai Lung himself, on that useless piece of paper the troll stuffed in a temple like it was something important, and the jerk led Tai Lung to believe was rightfully his. Why can't the boy just have his useless piece of paper, huh?

Well, I'll come back later and I'll tell ya.

#kung fu panda #po #shifu #oogway #tai lung #buddhism #cross cultural translation #stories #confucianism #villains

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writingquestionsanswered · 6 days

Note

Hi!

Do you have any tips about writing a dark comedy?

Thanks! :)

Dark Comedy Tips

*** Content warning for dark themes and references to methods of unaliving ***

1 - Employ Well-Timed "Gallows Humor" - Gallows humor is humor that treats serious, frightening, or painful subject matter in a light or satirical way.

One of my favorite uses of gallows humor is a literal one, and it happened in real life. Upon the signing of the Declaration of Independence--which was treason against the English crown--Benjamin Franklin reportedly quipped, "We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately."

The musical 1776 drew the gallows humor out from there...

youtube

Hancock: Alright, step right up, gentlemen. Don't miss your chance to commit treason. Franklin: Hancock is right. This document is our passport to the gallows. But there's no backing out now, for if we do not hang together, we shall most assuredly hang separately. Hancock: Gentlemen, forgive me if I don't join in the merriment, but if we are arrested now, my name is still the only one on the damn thing!

This scene qualifies as dark humor/gallows humor because there was a very real threat that these men would be punished--perhaps even hung--for their participation in the revolution and declaring independence from the British crown. Despite the very real threat, they're making jokes about it.

2 - Be Thoughtful About Jokes and Timing - It's super important, though, to be thoughtful about the types of jokes you make and the timing. Moments of real tragedy, where the reader is likely to be really upset, are not usually the best time or source for dark humor.

So, for example, the above scene from 1776 wouldn't have hit right if they'd just learned that one of the other congressmen had in fact just lost their life at the gallows.

And don't be an edgelord. Dark humor isn't about making deliberately outrageous jokes in an attempt to shock or offend people. You don't want to be heavy-handed.

3 - Meaning Matters - Ultimately, you want to avoid making jokes for the sake of making jokes. The goal with the humor is to hold up a mirror to how effed up the situation is. Franklin's quip about the Declaration of Independence being a "passport to the gallows" for anyone who signed it illustrates how truly absurd it is that simply signing a piece of paper to declare independence from a parent nation would be reason enough to end someone's life. It's a lot more nuanced than that, probably, but you get the point.

So, think about what you want the reader to take away from the story. What are you trying to say? What does it all mean? The bulk of your jokes should be building upon or delivering that message in some way.

4 - The More Absurd the Better - Absurdity based in reality is another common element of dark humor. Over-the-top escalation of conflict, boundaries pushed to their plausibly ridiculous limits, preposterous plot twists, logical conclusions taken to illogical places, and brutal emotional honesty... Hyperbole can be an effective tool to illustrate the absolute nonsense that is so much of human existence.

5 - Consistency is Key - Last but not least, it's important to be consistent. Dark humor isn't something you introduce suddenly. It should be there from the beginning, in whatever capacity it can be, so as not to give the reader tonal whiplash. They should know right from the start that this is a dark comedy. Your really want the dark and light elements to be woven seamlessly together.

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

#tw death #tw suicide #tw dark content #wqaadvice

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thepenultimateword · 2 years

Note

Hi, I just found your blog and it’s amazing! Thank you so much for your hard work. I was wondering if it would be possible to ask for part 8 of Sweet Dreams? I’m totally hooked on the story, but no pressure of course!! Hope you have a wonderful day!

D'aww thank you so much! And thanks for reading! I love hearing that people like my writing! And yeees, I probably should work on some other things, but Sweet Dreams part 8 calls to me XD

...

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

CW: Death, murder, disintegration of a sort, umm skeletons?

"Please."

"No," Villain said, firm but gentle, rubbing tiny circles into Henchman's shoulder with their thumb. "I don't risk my powers on people I want alive."

"I don't care about the risks," Henchman half-sobbed, "Just, please. A few seconds. I won't die in a few seconds."

Henchman never foresaw themselves begging Villain for anything, but every breath, every shift in their weight, every wrong move of Villain's hand was agony and the little bottle of ibuprofen Villain had scrounged from the bottom of their bag just wasn't doing it.

"Henchman," Villain said. "As much as it may seem a medicine, it is a poison."

"A-all medicine is a poison w-with the wrong dosage." Henchman hiccupped and then grimaced at the shoot of pain that ran up their sternum.

"And if I've never learned how to give the right one?"

Henchman squeezed their arm in response, as much a move of comfort as it was desperation.

Villain paused, conflict roiling in their dark eyes.

"One second," they finally conceded.

"Two."

Henchman didn't know how fast Villain's power moved, but one second barely seemed time enough to warm up.

Villain sighed deeply. "Two. But if there are broken bones, and they're not aligned right, you might suffer for it later."

Henchman nodded. They didn't care. They just wanted the edge off this pain. Villain had given them a thorough once over yesterday, and though they had no way to tell the damage inside, they'd deemed the damage as serious bruising, several dozen scattered lacerations, and possibly a concussion. Henchman trusted that assessment enough to forego their usual cautiousness. It wasn't as if regular medicine could heal the raw and stretched sensation in their nerves anyway. But maybe time could, and that just so happened to be Villain's weapon of choice.

Villain took in a deep breath, chest expanding and raising Henchman a couple inches along with it. Their hands situated themselves flat on Henchman's arms, just below the sleeves, so that Henchman could feel the warmth of their skin on their own. And then the burning.

Henchman gasped, body seizing as if caught in the fist of some massive being.

The sensation washing through them wasn't quite pain, but it was on the verge of unbearable. It dug under the skin and delved deep into somewhere dark and personal that Henchman hadn't even known existed but now felt slightly violated for being breached. Burning fingers sifted through every part of them, each particle and atom, pushing, pushing, pushing, turning them inside out and upside down and into something they weren't moments before. Wrongness. That was the only way Henchman could describe it. An unnatural alteration of their being. They tried to count the seconds until it would end, but their brain stuttered mid-thought and struggled to complete its task. Surely it had been two seconds by now. Surely this awful experience should be over.

After what seemed like an eternity, they suddenly found themselves freed from that gripping pressure, and they collapsed like a ragdoll on Villain's chest.

"Henchman?" Villain said, fingers digging too hard into their arms.

Henchman only panted. They wanted to respond, but their tongue was still getting used to the new feeling in their mouth. As they slid the tingling tip across their gums, they found them smooth and free of cuts.

"Henchman, are you alright?"

Henchman summed up the energy to nod weakly, but apparently, Villain didn't buy that.

"I told you!" they cried. Henchman stiffened instinctively at their harsh tone, but the more they listened the more they picked out the ashamed undertones. "I told you I couldn't do it! I only hurt! I don't heal!"

"No," Henchman said, already noticing a difference in the pain as the initial shock of Villain's power lifted. Everything still ached and exhaustion plagued every limb, but at least sucking in the air didn't hurt anymore. They were even well enough to rise up a little on their hand and meet Villain's eyes. "I'm ok. Thank you."

They gave themselves several more quiet seconds to breathe, probably staring way too long into Villain's inky depths.

"Was that really two seconds?" they said once some of their energy had returned.

Villain nodded.

"Do I look older?" Henchman felt stupid as soon as they said it. Of course they weren't any older if their injuries were still intact, but for some reason, it slipped out.

A rogue chuckle escaped Villain's throat and softened some of the sharp lines in their downturned face. Perhaps the question wasn't so bad after all.

"No. Still perfectly youthful." Villain paused a moment, considering them with new eyes. "You're not crying anymore. Is the pain really better?"

"Much better," Henchman said. "N-not perfect, but I think we can probably start traveling again."

They hiked up the hem of their shirt on one side and saw that the ugly midnight bruises on their ribs had matured to a sickly green. Yes, this was definitely better.

They could probably slide over to their own side of the bed now, but they were loath to part with Villain's sturdy comfort. It probably wouldn't hurt to lie here just a little longer, if anything they could blame it on the leftover exhaustion from Villain's healing. Well, "healing." Many people were healers. Very few had Villain's talents: the power to speed up time for whatever or whoever they touched. For better or for worse. And from the sound of it, it was usually worse.

Villain nodded, expression a mixture of relief and guilt. "Let's at least wait until morning."

Strange. They thought Villain would be anxious to move. It was already weird enough that they'd stopped at all, considering Henchman was only a henchman, but too put it off another night almost seemed to be asking for trouble.

"Villain, I don't think we should risk--" they started, only to be cut off by one rough hand cupping their cheek.

"Hush." It was soft and gently commanding, and it sent a shiver down Henchman's spine. "Just focus on getting better."

"O-ok."

They shifted awkwardly off Villain's chest and slid into the crook of their arm instead. It was probably still far too intimate a position, but the thought of separating brought leftover aches and images of stone-faced heroes to the forefront of their mind.

Villain probably thought they were being wishy-washy. Maybe they were holding back their annoyance for Henchman's previous high and mightiness until they were fully recovered. In any case, they couldn't make themselves move any further, and Villain wasn't saying anything now, so they were just going to feign tiredness until morning--not that really had to feign anything; they really were exhausted.

As they closed their eyes, Villain's fingers began tracing the worry lines in their face again. They didn't seem to do anything particularly different, but Henchman had to say it felt considerably less like a threat this time around.

Their brain drifted into a warm daze, which, despite it being late afternoon, quickly led to a deeper slumber.

They didn't wake again until the hotel room's window shattered.

***

Henchman's shot upright, wincing at several bruised muscles that had clenched and stiffened in their sleep, but Villain immediately shoved them back down again, drawing the yellow covers up over their head. The mattress creaked, edge sinking and rising as Villain must have swung out over the side.

"Was that skittish little thing really one of yours?"

Henchman went rock still.

That was Hero's voice, deep and charismatic as if he somehow expected the whole world to be listening and grinning along with him.

"Well, I'm certainly glad we found you together. It could have been very bad for me if it came out that I let one escape. But that's my bad for being swayed by a cute face."

"Don't even mention them," Villain snarled. Henchman peered out a crack along the side of the blanket to see the criminal overlord draw themselves up bigger. Their view only allowed them partial vision of Hero's right side, but they saw his large fist clench in turn.

Henchman drew themselves flatter to the mattress.

"You can't run," Hero taunted. "Not anymore. I have my colleagues waiting on the other side of that door. Any resistance and they'll storm this room in a second. So why don't we do this quietly? It would probably be a better outcome for your friend too. They weren't in the best shape last I saw them."

Villain back stiffened at those last two sentences, but their tone remained deadly calm as they replied, "Who said I was running?"

The visible half of Hero's face frowned. "What?"

"I've been waiting for you, Hero."

The larger person shifted uncomfortably and fell into a defensive stance. "Why would you--"

"I was running. Maybe I would have kept running. Heroes are such a gamble after all. But then you touched what's mine. And..." Villain sucked in a deep breath and released it as a humorless chuckle, "I really hate when people break my things."

"Yeah, well--" Hero began haughtily, but were quickly cut off as Villain lurched forward.

Their hands seized around Hero's throat in a flash. At the same time, Hero swung a superpowered fist to their ribcage. Henchman burst out from under the blanket, ready to grab Hero's arm, but then the monster froze. His eyes widened, and his breath caught. His body's momentum should not have died out so suddenly, but it was like his entire body had locked in place mid-punch.

Henchman realized the truth all at once. Villain was turning time for Hero the same way they had them. Hero couldn't move because the criminal had him paralyzed beneath the nature-altering pressure of their power.

Villain really was a spider. And this hotel room was their web.

Maybe the other heroes heard something, or maybe it was the complete lack of sound that brought the door busting to the ground with a loud bang that vibrated up the bed legs and into Henchman's toes.

Henchman's stomach lurched at the familiar duo, but they half rose once again to defend their employer. And once again, Villain proved they could take care of themselves.

The shadow of Villain's strangling hands suddenly doubled, the second pair separating from the original and crawling over the ceiling and hovering above the heroes' heads. Their eyes lifted to the otherworldly extension just in time to watch them come down on top of them, barely giving them time to cry out before stilling their screams and swathing the whole room in pitch black.

The bedside lamp remained on; Henchman could see the bulb's yellow glow, but it didn't push back the dark the way it should.

"Three of you?" Villain scoffed. "You really must think little of me. If you'd brought a bigger team, you might have actually had me. You were supposed to be better than this, but you're all arrogant beasts, aren't you?"

Hero's face was already several decades older, the veins in his face popping blue in his forehead and sagging cheeks. Grey seeped from the roots of his hair outward, and his statuesque body slowly hunched over. Nerve girl and nose guy were close behind, skin graying and folding around their horrified eyes.

Henchman saw the moment that they died. One moment frozen terror, and the next lifelessness. Villain didn't stop there though. Time kept spinning, bringing the heroes to the point of decay, then to skeletons, and then finally, to dust. Only then did they slide from Villain's grip, scattering into three drab, ill-made piles.

Henchman stared with their mouth dropped as far open as it could go. Something twisted in the pit of their stomach, but they weren't sure if it was gratitude or mortal terror. They would never have to worry about these heroes again. And neither would anyone else.

Villain stared at the remains coldly, mouth pinched together as if considering the inconvenience of the situation rather than the ethical questionability of what they'd just done.

They turned suddenly, and Henchman held back a flinch. Perhaps something showed in their face though because Villain paused a moment before taking another step toward the bed. They extended their hand toward Henchman's huddled form, covers drawn up to their chin.

Henchman accepted it slowly, trying hard to think about what those hands had done for them hours earlier and not what they had done just now. They knew Villain was powerful, but they'd never seen...never imagined...

"New plan," Villain said, hefting them to their feet and stepping them carefully over the pile that was once Hero. "We're returning to HQ. Tonight."

Part Nine

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