#she’s literally only using her as a tool for engagement

[faeriefully]

I’m going to need Candace Owens to shut up about Taylor Swift

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

TADC: Thoughts on Jax in Episode 2

Thoughts on Jax after Amazing Digital Circus Episode 2 Dropped.

Massive spoilers below the cut. Just watch the ep before you read.

Amazing Digital Circus had an amazing second episode as we're introduced more to what the adventures are like, and what NPCs are like and ofc the existential horror of being a living AI only created for a source of entertainment.

Also, I love the dream sequence at the beginning, because we actually get some deeper insight into Pomni's thoughts on Ragatha. Feeling like her helpfulness is the guise of like "man, you're not cut out for this like the rest of us" which is typically something a lot of people who have been bullied in highschool perceive genuine acts of kindness and engagement. (which I kind of suspect Pomni might have been, or at least, been a shut-in and didn't have a lot of friends in her human life. )

Jax wasn't really the main focus of the episode, but it wasn't really until the end of the episode I understood his behavior and what this episode is foreshadowing overall.

Since while Jax isn't the focus emotionally, he is definitely the plot device to push things forward. And I mean, a plot device in a very active and quite literal way. He's the one that causes Pomni to clip out of the map, takes advantage of everyone and is just... genuinely an unpleasant person.

I actually really like this.

As, I know the first episode in the digital circus, many people (me included) could perceive or analyze Jax's actions as someone who is "helping" in a roundabout asshole way. Episode Two has none of that here. He just wants Bloodshed, And I love that we're getting additional context on his character.

It's hard to tell how much fan reception Gooseworx saw of episode one before episode two hit production, so I don't know how much of the fandom perception of Jax had an influence on the writing process, but I can't deny that might have been a factor in assuring us "no he's not secretly helpful, he's just an asshole" But I'm just going to assume that this has been part of his characterization from the start and it becomes way more clear as the episode goes on.

But there was something in his behavior throughout this whole episode that seemed off to me. Like Jax was taking up a majority of the B-plot, while Pomni had the A-plot. So I was wondering why Jax seemed to be the protagonist with the B-plot when Pomni was the A-plot when they seemed to be so disconnected with eachother in motivations and telling us things about the characters.

But then it hit me when the episode ended and the two plots merged together.

"who... knows... what could happen..."

And then it hit me.

Pomni finds comfort in an NPC who is going through a similar experience to her and can emphasize, despite their being other humans who have gone through the same thing, due to her self-admitting to being a loner in her human life. Well, she didn't admit it outright, but from how she perceives Ragatha's kindness as an act, or patronizing, it seems like she doesn't have a lot of friends...

Meanwhile... Jax... He treats the adventure like a videogame. Why shouldn't he? He's trapped in a videogame, right? But it really goes beyond that.

The fellow humans that Jax is trapped with, he treats THEM like they're NPCs, while Pomni treats the NPC like they're human.

Jax says to Gangle "Aren't you supposed to be the suggestible one?" Which you wouldn't typically wouldn't say to a person, right? That's something you would say more about a character that you maxed out the dialogue trees in.

He calls Pomni "His Bridge" even.

They're his objects. His tools, his own npcs he's exhausted the dialogue options on.

Jax dehumanizes the players in a way that Pomni humanizes the NPCS.

These are two opposite ends of the spectrum but what really sold it for me was Jax's reaction to the funeral.

And Jax is the one member out of the cast who doesn't even show up to the funeral. (aside from Caine and Bubble but they are AI.)

He does NOT want to think about the Players as real people. And showing that opposite perspective compared to Pomni I think is much as important going forward.

Jax was the plot catalyst of this entire episode, and served the thematic theme of the episode quite well, even if it didn't look like it on first glance.

I absolutely loved this episode and I can't wait for more.

Also... Poor Pomni can't have shit in Detroit

[dmbakura]

OK so I want to stress that this is NOT a slight against OP of this post or how they feel about the way the game presents certain options, but I've seen sentiments like this before and I feel like people still aren't quite grasping WHY the game doesn't allow the option to do a "slow burn romance where you can show him you truly care about him beyond sex" if you ascend him. So I wanted to take the opportunity to talk about Astarion's route and objectification, and the very intentional limitations of player choice regarding the ascension path.

Objectification is the act of degrading someone to the status of a mere object. It often involves a sexual component, but not necessarily. It's reducing someone to being a tool or toy, as if they have no feelings/opinions/autonomy of their own. In Astarion's case, his objectification is very much tied to his sexuality, but also his own views on power and control, and how that reflects on both him and his romantic partner.

I think people get too fixated on Welch's quote "it's reducing your relationship with him back to being a kink/form of gratification... it's very much admitting you failed to think of him beyond a sex object" and take this as commentary or judgment on the players choices, when it isn't actually that. It's quite literally the story that is baked into the route and Astarion's character as a whole. There are obviously reasons to ascend him that have nothing to do with how you personally feel about him as a character, ie you want stats, you think it's just more fun, or interesting, or you like the tragedy, etc but in regards to the story itself? It's actually more commentary on how Astarion views himself more than anything else. He is an intentional subversion of the seductive vampire trope. You cannot engage with his story without interacting with this aspect of his character.

Even if you had a dialogue option to try and initiate a romance with him without that first night of sex, Astarion wouldn't take it. If you had a dialogue option to "show him you cared and want to protect him" he would either scoff at it or get angry, as he does if you try and express similar sentiments about protecting him from Cazador. He doesn't want to be coddled. He doesn't trust mindless heroism or altruism. He initiates sex because he uses it as a tool for manipulation and insurance of his own safety. You can either play into that manipulation or don't (and he seems to respect you more if you don't, which says a lot about his self worth). You can't initiate a slow burn romance because Astarion is so distrustful of EVERYONE and has no ability to conceptualize genuine care at this point in the game due to his mistreatment as a vampire spawn. This is an incredibly important aspect to his character and to change the foundation of this is to rewrite his character entirely.

(There is ONE exception to this: Karlach. Karlach is the only character that can initiate more of a slowburn with Astarion and won't sleep with him the first night because she quite literally, physically can't. And Astarion doesn't immediately accept this either. He belittles Karlach, to the point of calling her frigid and basically defective, wondering if he's wasting his time, before she chews him out for being an asshole. Again, he has no idea how to approach a relationship without using sex as a transaction and it shows. He only goes along with it because he quite literally cannot do his normal routine. This is the only reason he won't start a relationship with Karlach using sex.)

So anyways, that choice at the start? The way Astarion's romance initiates on the first night? It intentionally parallels the way ascended!Astarion will offer you an ultimatum: become his spawn or leave him. At the start of the game, Astarion intentionally plays into the sexy vampire trope to get what he wants, is highly paranoid, afraid and distrustful of everyone. At the end of the game in the ascended route... he's intentionally playing into the sexy vampire trope, is highly paranoid, afraid and distrustful of everyone, only this time he has power to back him up. Nothing about his views has been fundamentally challenged if you ascend him; he's completely validated in his beliefs about power and control and entirely in the mindset that he has no value without becoming the ascendant.

It's not about whether you personally find him sexy or not. It's not about having sex at this point. It's not about you or your character. Astarion objectifies himself, fully playing the only hand he knows (as he himself puts it) because that is all he knows how to do. In the ascended path, he has been shown no other option. Your character, good intentions or not, has not given him the tools to see himself as anything else. There is no way too make himself see himself as anything else, except by not ascending him! Either you let this man degrade you as he degrades himself, or don't. That is the option provided, and anything otherwise wouldn't make sense without rewriting his character completely.

Do you value what he actually wants (freedom) or do you value what he says he wants (power, because he views it as the only way to get that freedom)? To me the game makes it obvious (ESPECIALLY with the newly added epilogue) that walking in the sun again or gaining the power of the vampire ascendant aren't the keys to Astarion's happiness. Stuff like that, while nice, doesn't magically grant him peace and it's not a substitute for character growth and self reflection. It honestly just feels like people want the personality and development of spawn Astarion but in the ascended Astarion path, which doesn't make any sense with the way the story unfolds.

Anyways, I just wanted to say that objectification can be more than just seeing someone as a sex object, and doesn't necessarily have to do with sex itself. It can tie into views about power and degradation and a lack of self respect. Furthermore, it's not the game telling you you're a bad person or some sex addled freak if you ascend him, it's asking you to engage with what Astarion's personal story can say about sexuality, cycles of abuse, trauma and recovery - for better or worse.

[prickly-paprikash]

Something cool about Blue Eye Samurai is how sex is juxtaposed with the end-goals.

I really love how our three protagonists are all obsessed. And that obsession defines them, torments them, and are subsequently reborn through their obsessions.

Mizu, of course, is obsessed with the concept of revenge. It's not even about getting even or getting justice as some might use to justify the bloody road taken—it is simply about seeking satisfaction for Mizu. She cuts a bloody swathe across Japan because of what the Four White Devils did to her mother and herself. She does not concern herself with the ramifications of her wrath but merely charges forward, leaving behind a trail of viscera and gore behind her.

Like I said before, her vengeance and obsession with satisfaction is not painted by the show as wrong. It is how she allows it to affect others along the path. It's why the episode with Madame Kaji is so enlightening; Mizu should not tackle this quest as a vengeful revenant; an onryō. She has let the world define her as a monstrosity and so she embraced it, when Swordfather and Madame Kaji knew what the correct path was to satiate her need for vengeance. Treat her sword as the Artisan's tool it truly is. Treat her body the way an Artist would treat their canvas.

Madame Kaji and Swordfather are both outcasts, for being a woman and a blind man. Yet they found strength in their exclusion, becoming single-minded in their fields of art. Because sex is art and swordsmithing is art. It's what makes Mizu's body writing scene so fucking good.

Artistic vision becomes stagnant when one pulls from only one source. They become rigid and unbending when Mizu, like her namesake, must be fluid. She has shown fluidity in her use of her gender and her morals, but cannot apply that same flexibility towards her goal. Throughout season one, she was becoming an uninspired artist, merely painting the world in hues of scarlet. In a world that forces Women to be either Wives or Whores, Mizu chose to be a Warrior—but a warrior fights for a cause, whether it be just or otherwise. A soldier fights in an army. Mizu is neither of these things. She is an Artist first and foremost, and her medium is Death. Sex, something Mizu was at first hesitant before her failed marriage, and something she actively avoided afterwards, is what gives her a new perspective. Like an Illustrator studying life to better draw their intended worlds, taking inspiration from wherever one can find it.

Taigen and Akemi are also equally affected by the artistry of sex, as befitting of Mizu's fellow protagonists.

Akemi is quite obviously Mizu's narrative foil. Mizu chases after revenge like a bloodhound whereas Akemi longs for freedom like a bird in a cage. Both are fierce women who are unsatisfied with their lot in life, with their sex and gender being used against them in their lives. Literally, the episode "The Tale of the Ronin and the Bride" is a fucking triple entendre:

Mizu is the Ronin as well as the Bride.

The play showcases the tale of the Ronin and the Bride.

It is also Mizu as the Ronin and Akemi as the Bride.

And when Mizu finds her center as she melts down her blade and engages in body writing, this scene of enlightenment is juxtaposed with Akemi laying with her new husband Takayoshi. Both, in this moment, are taking control of their lives through sex. They are both taking control of their futures through the ways Madame Kaji taught them. Mizu and Akemi are both rebels against this oppressive society, and are both talented artists with their body. Whether that be sex, politicking, or ass-kicking.

Taigen, like the two women before, finds freedom through it but in a more subtle manner.

Where Mizu and Akemi are narrative foils, both using sex as a form of art and escape, Taigen finds liberation through his awakening.

Like the closeted bisexual man he is, he begins his journey of self-realization when he first encounters Mizu at the Dojo.

Every single battle these two have is purposefully rife with sexual tension. All his life, Taigen has been taught that a man must live with honor. That he must take control of his life and his identity, or he will have failed and that he is better off dead than to live with such shame.

Taigen is just as much a victim of the Patriarchal society around him. Mizu rails against it violently. Akemi seeks to run away from it all. And Taigen, with the privilege given to him by his manhood, chooses to become a perpetrator, enabling the vicious wheel of society to keep moving forward.

His obsession with honor leads him to hunting down and even protecting Mizu. Mizu is no doubt the better warrior, but even she knows she owes so much to Taigen. The blockhead not only did everything to protect her in the valley, but also sealed his lips shut even under the duress of torture. His obsession with honor becomes an obsession with Mizu.

His regrets over tormenting her over her looks and ethnicity as a child. His shame in having lost so decisively in his own dojo. Taigen was a man born with nothing and climbed up to the top with every advantage he could muster, and suddenly it's all ripped away by this one vengeful spirit passing by.

Taigen learns to surrender control around Mizu. He begins to discover his own sexuality and purpose around Mizu, redefining what honor really means to him now that he, as a man, has a budding attraction towards the man who beat him.

Mizu's Vengeance. Akemi's Freedom. Taigen's Honor. In all three, Sex becomes a catalyst in redefining what each of these concepts truly mean to them all. It's not just sex of course, but it is undeniable how the writers keep juxtaposing sexual acts and thoughts with massive character moments.

It changes how Mizu chases after her Vengeance. It recontextualizes how Akemi can be Free. It showcases the absurdity of the Honor forced upon Taigen.

It's so fucking refreshing seeing Sex not used as fanservice or shoe-horned in just to further a stale, poorly written cis-heterosexual romance; but used as a plot point that cannot be ignored. An impetus that fuels the narrative.

Moving forward, I'm curious as to how sex will be used.

The next few ideas aren't as sound or organized because I'm neither Asexual nor Genderfluid, so please if anyone reads this who understands it better, feel free to point it out.

I think it'd be cool if Mizu met the inverse of Madame Kaji. A person who is apathetic to sex. Sure, Swordfather has shades of this, but I'm tired of the person with disabilities also being on the Asexual spectrum. And I'm not saying that Ace or Graysexual people with disabilities don't exist! But they always tend to be written as having some form of disability (Varys from ASOIAF) or a Robot.

Just as artists need a variety of sources to pull inspiration from, I hope in the next seasons we get to see different perspectives on sex and gender. In London, it feels like Mizu finding the other half of herself, and with that having a better way of tackling her own identity. Whether it be gender, sex, combat, etc.

Basically what this inane rambling amounts to is that Blue Eye Samurai tackles sex and violence and revenge and obsession in ways that most media has yet to truly do. So that was pretty cool.

[mysterycitrus]

recently finished batgirl 2000 and i'm feeling Insane about her. do you have any opinions on the run? the character herself?

bro cass cain and batgirl 2000 are litchrally on my mind 24/7 and the more i think about her the more unhinged i become. how perfectly she mirrors bruce’s own internal struggle. her love for all things living. her desire to change. her disconnection from everyone in her life by speaking a language only her mother knows. her belief in the good. her absolute self-conviction and confidence to the detriment of her own life. the roses. wow wow wow

the more i read the more ive completely lost patience with comic fans who totally ignore or rebuke her as a character in comparison to bruce’s other kids. talking about the male robins with her noticeably absent is an immediate close tab. “she’s boring” “she’s underdeveloped” “she’s not as interesting” just tells me they’ve never actually read her run, or engaged with her character in good faith. her total exclusion from fan content about the waynes, her absence in fanfic, her reduction to a smiling, placid little girl who isn’t allowed a dissenting opinion. she has a single comic run from the early aughts that’s better than anything published this decade please be so incredibly serious!!!

she’s the most like bruce by any metric. dick understands bruce better than anyone, but cass is bruce, for both the good and bad. he sees her commitment to giving everyone a chance, sees her devotion to life, and is both awed and horrified. there’s a bit outta persephone that i still think about a lot:

Cassandra replies: “I was born into violence. Not to this life, but something worse. I was made to hurt people. I chose differently. I changed the path and found this. This new life, new purpose, new home.” She taps the symbol on her chest. “This, I wear to help people. To protect them. To start each day better, and brighter. The way I grew up… it was isolated, and lonely. I spoke a language no one else understood. There was no kindness because a weapon is to be used. Used to hurt, and cut, and kill. Who cares what a tool thinks?”

in my mind she is thee only choice for batman if bruce retires — for literally anyone else it’d just be character regression. dick would rather kill himself. the cowl would kill tim. jason needs to grow his own morals. damian works better as a narrative foil by attaining his own mantle, his own destiny. if nightwing is what batman could never be, then cass is what batman should be. she cares about the mantle, and has made it her own. she embodies all of bruce’s worst habits, but overcomes them. she is what gotham truly needs.

[the-fiction-witch]

Favourite Patient

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Sweet

Requested I don't exactly know how to leave a request but I'm assuming I'm just supposed to comment. I was wondering if you could do one about Y/n being a patient at the hospital. I don't know what would happen but I just think it would be cool. ❤️

I sat on the bed, pouting. 

I wanted to go home, I thought all of this was stupid. 

Merely an overreaction. 

"This is dumb."

"Y/n!" My mother snapped at me across the room, 

"It is!"

"Will you please just let the doctor look over you,"

"Can I go home when he tells you there's nothing wrong with me?"

"If he says so then yes." 

"Fine." I rolled my eyes, 

Soon enough the door opened to one of the doctors, the younger one, I hadn't met him yet, and frankly I didn't want to. 

"Good Afternoon, you must be Miss Y/l/n," He smiled at me, 

"Umm." 

"Alright, well going on then?" He asked sitting on the bed, 

I glared a little and moved my leg to put some space between us "Nothing,"

"Nothing?"

"Y/n!" My mother snapped, "Tell the doctor." 

"There's nothing wrong with me, I'm not wasting his time."

"That's very sweet of you," He smiled, "But tell me anyway, I'd rather you waste five minutes of my time to tell me you have a tummy ache than not tell me it's something serious." 

"It's nothing." I sighed,

"Oh for-" My mother began before she simply told him what was wrong with me, 

"Ah... that is serious." He said sounding concerned, 

"Oh for no! it's not that serious really." I complained 

"If you wouldn't mind waiting outside Mrs Y/l/n,"

"Yes doctor" She nodded as she took her bag and left, leaving me alone with this doctor. 

For a moment neither of us spoke merely engaging in a staring contest, which I had to look away from first. Which only made him smirk. 

"Is that true?"

"No, I-"

"Is it. true?"

"Yes." I sighed,

"Alright, I'll need to keep you in for a week under observation we haven't had any change in that time then I'll give you a full exam-"

"No, you bloody well will not."

"Yes. I will. and if I find what I'm gonna be honest I'm already suspecting then you'll need surgery."

"Ohh for- It's not that bad really." 

"If you do. and you don't have surgery you'll die."

"and if I don't? If I don't and you being overly cautious put me through a surgery I do not need."

"Miss Y/l/n. Surgery is expensive, time-consuming, dangerous, I'm not going to put you through a surgery you don't need." He said, "But as a doctor, I can't let you walk out of here with the knowledge there could be a literal bomb inside you waiting to go off." He snapped, "Now. Miss Y/l/n, Let me investigate. Please." 

"Fine." I snapped,

"Good girl," he smiled, he took some tools and did a very basic check of things "Yes as I suspected. But we still need to keep you in to be sure." He said 

"And if I don't want to stay?"

He glared a little as he moved away, "Then legally speaking I can handcuff you to the bed, so are you staying willingly or am I getting the keys?"

"Fine."

"Good girl," he smiled, "I get this feeling you're very quickly going to become my favourite patient" He winked, "Name for the paperwork?"

"Y/n."

"A very beautiful name, Dr Dawkins. I'll be checking in on you daily and I'll make sure the nurse gives you lots of fluids and a comfy pillow" He smiled, "I'll see you later y/n." 

He took his things and left the room to explain things to my mother, I just huffed and pouted angrily. 

I had been here for three days and already I was bored out of my mind, every day Dr. Dawkins would pop in and check up on me sometimes even more than that but still I was just pouting and complaining wanting to go home, 

"Aww, There's my favourite patient." He smiled as he arrived at my room, "Hi Y/n."

"Hello Dr Dawkins,"

"I brought you a present?" 

"What?" I rolled my eyes,

"Ah ah. No. you don't get your present until you smile."

I sighed and forced a smile, "Good girl," He smiled coming fully inside my room, "Extra jelly," he enticed setting an extra jelly cup on my table, 

"I thought it was one a day that's the rules?"

"It is, but... Between you and me." He winked, "I snagged it for you when I went past the kitchens" He smiled,

"Thank you,"

"You're welcome, anything to cheery that grumpy butt up" He laughed, "Now. any change?"

"Nope."

"Anything at all?"

"Nope."

"Alright, I might have to check you again."

"Again!"

"I need to check. if nothing improves I am going to have to book you in for surgery and you know both of us don't want that,"

"Fine." I sighed letting him check again, for what felt like the tenth time in three days.  

"Alright, rest up I'll come back and see you before bed."

"Alright." I sighed,

"Good girl," he smiled before he left again. 

I had been here now for six days and I was only getting angrier and angrier, I didn't want to be here, but  he knew I had been trying to just walk out so make sure to look my door, I didn't want surgery and I knew he'd make me get it so I was attempting to climb out the window of my room, but just as I got halfway out, He opened the door.

"Are you breaking out?" 

"...no,"

"so what are you doing then?"

"...Yes. I was."

"Go on then." He smirked leaning on my bed, 

"I may have misjudged this."

"You think? attempting to escape out a third-story window?"

"I was going to walk across the ledge and go down the drainpipe."

"And in your condition that would certainly be a marvel,"

"Ohh shut up Doctor."

"You want help getting back in?"

"No. I'm fine."

"climbing out the window is not getting you out of surgery y/n. I know where you live we will just pick you up and bring you back."

"Who said I was going home?"

He rolled his eyes and came over picking me up and putting me back in bed, "stay." He demanded before going and locking my window, "You really are my favourite patient. even if you annoy the hell out of me." He smiled, "Now, get some rest I've booked your surgery in for tomorrow morning." 

"Do I have to?"

"Yes." 

"Do I really have to?"

"Yes." He laughed, "I'll be gentle I promise" he smiled before he headed out again. 

I hated doing this but I had little of a choice, I was taken to the theatre and laid on a table with Dr. Dawkins over me.

"You alright?" He asked,

"Not really..."

"I know it's scary, But I promise I won't hurt my favourite patient." he smiled "Just go to sleep and I promise when you wake up this will all be over." He reassured kissing my forehead before gently resting the mask on my face, I slowly breathed it in and the world darkened until I slipped into sleep. 

I woke in the little hospital bed, tucked up tightly in the covers, with Dr Dawkins sitting in the chair beside my bed watching over me. "Awww, Hello. How's my favourite patient?"

"everything hurts."

"It will for a while," he smiled, "but it's all over. all done. you're all better."

"Really?"

"yeah all done, you can stay here a couple more days to rest up and check for infection."

"Okay," I nodded, 

"Okay? no arguing?"

"No." 

"Good girl," He smiled holding my hand 

"You waited for me to wake up?"

"Of course I did, I have to take care of my favourite patient." He smiled, "I'll be right here until you're all better" he smiled. 

"You mean it?"

"I promise," he smiled kissing my cheek "Get some rest y/n."

"Thank you, Dr. Dawkins."

"you can just call me Jack, y/n."

I blushed a little, "Thank you, Jack,"

"You're welcome, Sweetheart." He smiled, 

[saintsenara]

idk if someone else asked you this but: what's your fav interpretation of snily? platonic or romantic? (my fav is platonic, but tbh i love any version of them that still respecting their tragedy)

ok lads, here we, here we, here we fucking go...

i like snily a lot - as both a platonic and a romantic pairing - because i think it has so much potential to be really interesting - and, above all, that it's interesting because it's a great relationship for an author to use to directly undercut a lot of tropes about love [romantic or otherwise] which both the canon series and vast amounts of fanfiction use uncritically.

by which i mean, it's not a big, epic, written-in-the-stars love story. it's not inevitable - it's not ginny "never giving up" on harry - and it's not romcom-happy-ending-perfect - the way james and lily's relationship is described by everyone who ever speaks about them - and it's not a perfect blending of two halves of the same soul - there's no timeline in which we could hear mcgonagall saying "you never saw one without the other", as she does about james and sirius - and it never could be.

but what it can be - much like remadora, which i think is genuinely one of snily's closest parallels - is evidence that love which is none of these things has the capacity to be just as transformative, just as meaningful, as just as worth an author's time.

and - of course - has the capacity to be possible. i'm not going to bother with the argument that snily is impossible to write in a canon-coherent way [or impossible to write without it being abusive] - and i'm especially not going to bother with the argument that it's immoral to see as a plausible pairing. thinking this is a skill issue - a refusal to grapple with several of the fundamental truths about being human: that redemption is possible; that forgiveness - even of the gravest sins - is possible too; that love is strange and unpredictable; and that there is nobody - not a single soul - on earth who is unworthy of it.

which is why - of course - my favourite flavour of snily is one in which james dies in 1981 [maybe he's the one who won't stand aside, maybe the magic which causes the killing curse to rebound doesn't need to hinge on choice, and so on] but she and harry live, and that - in order to try and ground herself in the face of her shattering grief - she returns to cokeworth, seeking a reminder of the certainty of childhood which she can cling to at a time when everything else is out of control.

that snape would be lurking about is unsurprising - the man clings to the certainties of his childhood [even if these certainties are much less happy than lily's] like a limpet. he's still living at spinner's end, seething about james and sirius - stuck in the past and unwilling to move on to the future.

and not only stuck in the past, but stuck on a fantasy.

it's clear in canon that snape and lily's major issue - prior to the break in their friendship which we see in snape's worst memory - is that neither of them ever takes the other as they actually are. the lily of snape's head is a construct - especially after her death - and the snape of lily's head is the same.

lily - even in the few pages of her we see in canon - seems to be stuck viewing snape as the child, devoted exclusively to her, whose role was to teach her about the wonderful world of magic, and who acted primarily as a tool of her own self-actualisation.

this is why she can’t understand why snape is so embarrassed by the way his poverty makes him stand out at hogwarts, and why this would make him want to fit in with the sort of purebloods she clearly thinks are awful. it's why she doesn't understand his need for reassurance when it comes to whether his [platonic] affection for her is reciprocated. it's why she doesn't take what happens to him at the marauders' hand seriously until she's made an explicit part of it by james. and it's also why she doesn't engage with snape's radicalisation until she literally can't ignore it anymore. mulciber and avery can be figures she loathes - and figures she recognises as potential death eaters - because she regards them as having the agency to be bad people if they so desire. but snape isn't someone she sees as existing for himself or having a life of his own, until his behaviour is so egregious that it forces the scales to fall from her eyes. he exists for her.

and snape is the same. he sees himself as the person who gave lily the wizarding world and, therefore, as the person who gets to dictate how she understands it.

this is why he can't understand what it is about mulciber's use of dark magic which appalls her [as a teenager, he, like voldemort, clearly thinks that applying boundaries to which sort of magic can or should be practised is nanny-state gatekeeping]. it's why he doesn't understand why it upsets her when he's rude to petunia and why he fails to grasp that she can simultaneously have a difficult relationship with her sister and love and value her. it's why he dislikes her forming her own views on the marauders, instead of agreeing with his. and it's why he thinks lily's hatred of the death eaters is stupid - he believes [undoubtedly correctly, given voldemort's relationship with him] that joining the organisation will allow him to transcend the restrictions imposed upon him by his muggle father and social class, and he is incapable of seeing how this wouldn't be the case for lily. she exists for him.

teen snily exists within this context - and i think there's something sincerely interesting which can be done with an exploration of their friendship [including that friendship turning into a romantic relationship] which takes the fact that the two people involved have to confront their mutual insistence on loving an imagined version of the other into account. maybe it crashes and burns - as it does in canon, when snape and lily see each other clearly for the first time when he calls her a mudblood - or maybe they start trying to do the work.

and adult snily exists within this context magnified to a hundred. i think there's just something so compelling about the idea of them running into each other in cokeworth. and lily being torn between seeing snape clearly - knowing exactly who he is and what he's done - and still wanting to pretend that he's the best friend of her childhood, so she can have five minutes of respite from the immensity of james' death. and snape being torn between wanting to confess his role in the prophecy debacle to her - to take responsibility and commit to atonement, safe in the knowledge that this would mean losing her forever - and still wanting to pretend that everything is as it was again, and lily will listen to him, and be what he wants [and needs] her to be.

and this gives us the potential for mess - and mess which is very sad, which is the best kind.

maybe they reestablish their friendship [or even transform it into a relationship] while clinging to that childhood fantasy, and are then forced to acknowledge who the other really is and fall apart. maybe they don't ever acknowledge this, and remain stuck in a mire of toxic codependency which hangs on never being honest with themselves and each other.

maybe snape stubbornly refuses to move on from his hatred of james [just imagine...] even once he has what he's always claimed to have wanted. maybe lily can't move past the mudblood incident. maybe the revelation of the prophecy and snape's role within it is something lily - entirely, entirely understandably - would never be able to move past.

and yet...

maybe - gradually, and with lots of setbacks - they each learn how to be satisfied with the other as a real person. maybe they learn how to listen to each other, how to talk to each other, how to value each other. maybe they let go of childish resentments - maybe lily says "yeah, james was a dick to you and i could have been more sympathetic to that" and snape says "thanks, now i can work on moving on from this so i'm not the sort of person who's still obsessed with school beef when i'm nearly forty". maybe they work through bigger, more justified resentments - maybe snape shows that he is sincerely sorry about calling lily a mudblood, and demonstrates this, and she feels able to accept his apology.

and maybe snape looks her in the eye and tells her what he did, and lily still manages to find some small glimmer of hope in the midst of her fury that she thinks is worth clinging to.

[the fact that switching sides and putting yourself into mortal danger in an attempt to destroy voldemort means that you have a pretty good claim for your wish to atone for your sins to be genuine, for instance...]

perhaps the two of them find themselves in a state of fragile cordiality - polite hellos in shops, a quick drink at christmas. perhaps they bury the hatchet but then lose touch, and forgiving snape and being forgiven by lily helps them each let the other go. perhaps they have a relationship which doesn't last, but which is no less significant to either of them for it. perhaps they share a drunken kiss and laugh about it the next day. perhaps they work out how to be friends properly - and they're yapping away over a roast dinner as we speak. and perhaps they work out how to be more than that.

stranger things have happened, and they always will. isn't it fun to come up stories which think about how?

[lakesbian]

which of the undersiders would transition fix?

...okay probably none of them but which of them should most do it anyway

if we're reading taylor as trans i think she just comes off like she's already aware she's trans and being treated suchly (i.e. badly) at the start of the story and like. gets illegal villain estrogen or whatever (regular estrogen but it's being supplied via being a villain and she takes it using bugs because of the way that she is like how she brushes her teeth with bugs) and it still doesnt change literally anything about her arc. like wildbow made her accidentally bi and to a slightly lesser but still significant extent accidentally trans but doing yuri or transitioning would not save her.

brian is ontologically a cishet man

i feel like lisa being epitome cis white blonde meangirl is sort of critical to her character design because it's very much a survival-tool Mask and Role that she wears/plays so it's like. If she were to transition away from that i think it might be a Sign or Symptom of things being less bad for her but it would not be responsible for the fixing per se? like, being able to do it would be a pH indicator of her Environment being better but it would not be the Cause of her getting fixed?

alec is....i think i've posted "regent get estrogen" and/or some sort of sentiment about transitioning being a fix before so there's that. i don't have a strong opinion about his gender and i don't know if he does either but, like, i can see a world where girlregent is a thing and being a girl is an Improvement. so many trans girls on here love being dolls and alec is already a doll so all thats left is for him to become a girl. i genuinely believe direct and conscious engagement w/ her (girlregent)'s body to mold it to be how she wants via transition would be an improvement over boylec's I Do Not See It situation

if aisha is trans we all know it's in the sparklegender pronouns are airhorns sense and that would not fix anything but it would be fun to witness. rachel i just genuinely think is a girl in the sense that if you point at a dog and call it she/her the dog will go ok 👍she's not fussed about all that

rachel's a doggirl and shes butch deviation from this is not permitted so if she's trans then she's already transitioned or is transitioning during the course of the story and it did not fix her. taylor hebert fixed her. which. hm. which is t4t so then it wraps back around to yes transitioning did actually fix her in a way

so. out of the options here the only one that really qualifies is, i think, alec. and while we're at it get cherie on testosterone (will make her worse but i want to see it) tl;dr regent get hoverboard AND estrogen

[cloud-navi]

⚠️ spoilers ⚠️

My thoughts on:

Camp Cretaceous season one

Darius

Feels pretty basic, not bad. Understandable feelings of grief from his dad.

Kenji

Loud enough to hear considered obnoxious, but I counter that with: Daddy issues (obvious from the start, very happy they pulled that around for season 2 and Chaos Theory).

Darius and Kenji

In episodes 1 and 2 they both get in trouble and Darius takes the blame for it after Kenji admits that all he’s really done/wanted was to make his dad proud. Darius gets angry because Kenji “lied” about wanting to make his dad proud, but really, thats not a lie. Kenji, (assumption) is likely an only child, with no mention of his mom, and his dad is extremely neglectful and manipulative. Only showing attention to Kenji when he wants something from his son, or use him as a tool as seen in season five. Kenji didn’t lie about wanting to make his dad proud, making his dad proud get him the attention that he rightfully deserves a human being and as a child. lonely children like Kenji tend to act out because they want the attention that they aren’t getting when they need it, attention is very important during development and neglect leaves emotional scars and affect how they behave. I think Darius, as an adolescent didn’t quite understand that point of view because he sees Kenji, how Kenji wants Darius to see him. Overly confident, laidback, cool. So Darius, who also had a wonderful relationship with his dad, didn’t have the insight of “Lack of parental support/attention = Lack of self-worth/masking as someone cooler then (they think) themself even if that means a few lies.” Except, he didn’t lie. His mask cracked, he told the truth. Anyone with neglectful parents can tell you, before you start resenting your parents neglectfulness, you resent yourself for “not being good enough,” blaming yourself, just wanting to make them proud (✋).

Because his behavior stems from neglect, it also dictates the way he’s acting in season five, which is some thing the other characters seem to struggle with understanding and having empathy. Darius and Ben are probably the youngest in the group, so they may not pick up on those signals, They should still be in developing their empathy and understanding other peoples experiences than a five year old. Out of all of the main characters, I only give Brooklyn a pass. it feels really shitty that your friend is doing some thing that y’all are all against and have been against for almost a year, but you need to understand. They are not focusing that they are focusing on getting some thing they have been deprived of since they were young (parental love, and engagement), which is a very valid reason to have tunnel vision. I also don’t like how Mai the researcher in season five, didn’t point it out to them in a way that they would understand Kenji‘s position, but I also don’t remember if she had the chance to. Will come back to that later.

Ben

Literally my favorite cinnamon roll baby in season one, I adore his relationship to bumpy. Ump is a fucking angel. And I like how they bring a few of the seasons down to the wire with bumpy near the crossfire. It’s a good way to keep bumpy as a main side character.

Yasmina

Also kind of flat, not much to say. She’s more introverted doesn’t talk to people as much doesn’t like to be on camera, really shy, with trust issues. I understand why she feels betrayed when she finds out Sammy did lie, but also for her age (15) I think it’s both reasonable and irrational for her to lack in understanding and having empathy as to why Sammy was doing what she did. Reasonable for her to feel that way, considering she has issues with trust. But also irrational to disregard Sammy’s motive for what was happening. 

Brooklyn

Not many notes on Brooklyn either, though it’s clear that she also hasn’t had much real social interaction, considering her whole career started since she was like 10 (mentioned in season two) so she hasn’t had much real socialization outside of the Internet. I understand why she’s angry with Sammy when her phone is taken, and when it is proven after everyone has told her to shut up about it so many times before. However, just like Yasmina, I think she needs to chill out with blaming Sammy. You might not have known why at the time, but what Sammy was doing was pretty understandable in my opinion based on her character and what her experience. Being upset was reasonable, but blaming Sammy for the events at Isla and not being able to get off the island, was completely irrational considering who do you think was gonna pick up the phone? Do you think they were going to get there in time? Do you think they would Believe the probability of their survival was high enough that they would send a team when there was a huge evacuation of an giant park and you weren’t even at the park. I think they’re being unreasonable at the time, it’s not like Phone would’ve charged enough, or the fact that when the island lost power, it’s a no fly zone and there is no service (revealed season 2).

Sammy

I can see why she could be considered obnoxious, but more so just allowed and bubbly person. I like Sammy I can understand her motive, and what she was doing, if I believed in myself that much to complete those tasks, I would do it too. In her position, her family was on the verge of losing their farm so they got a loan that ended up being really bad people, and left them with the only choice of losing their livelihood or using their daughter as a spy. Sammy has a large heart, and clearly a lot of self assurance, to rationalize her actions based on her motive. Regardless of what was happening on the island I would not be able to stay mad at Sammy. Because when you boil it down, Sammy‘s tasks would not have hurt anyone by her doing. Anything after getting the samples and information going to Manta Cor, would have been Manta Cor’s fault because it was in charge the information. Sammy‘s motives were completely out of love for her family.

Sidenote, when they are in the field in the gyrospheres, I kinda think that was completely on the kids being idiots. Brooklyn and Darius were completely at fault for nearly dying, just as much as every other person was except for Sammy. None of them listened to the person with actual experience, herding animals. Up until Jurassic Park and then Jurassic World, the books that Darius has are probably all just theorized behaviors, it would have been more valuable to listen to someone (Sammy) that has EXPERIENCE herding herbivores. Just saying.



[sailoryooons]

You DTF? | pjm | (m)

☾ Pairing:  Jimin x female reader 

☾ Summary: You’ve never had a one night stand. Jimin has had countless. You’re trying to experience new things. Jimin loves doing the same old shit. So when you meet the man going around the club inviting people to touch his ripped abs, you think perhaps this is the perfect opportunity to try new things. It’s Labor Day weekend at the shore - what can go wrong? 

☾ Word Count:  10,233

☾ Genre: Smut, pwp, strangers to one-night stand

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Recreational drinking, Jimin being a total tool, cringe-worthy dialogue, explicit language, fuck boy Jimin is it’s own warning, 2009 slang should be a warning because it is literally so cringey, Jimin is quite literally doing the jerk and reader is totally buying it, literally these two are so cringe, sexually explicit content including oral (f. and m. receiving), some nipple play, a lot of spit description idk, big dig Jimin, throat fucking, unprotected vagina sex, Jimin bein an idiot and combing reader not to use a condom, reader is equally stupid cause she wants to get fucked, Jimin accidentally cumming inside, hittin' it from the back, cringe dirty talk, finger blasting (lmfao), Jimin occasionally hitting reader's cervix, they're like a little toxic idk, this is like the most hilarious thing I've ever written, Jimin does coke right on reader's counter cause he has to keep his stmania okay, Jimin is insensitive a lot

☾ Published: September 4, 2022

☾ A/N: This is both the best and the worst thing I have ever written. There are some light-toxic themes and some ignorant dialogue and behavior between the two of them because they're both bimbos drunk in 2009. The writing is supposed to be a little cringe but I may have gone overboard. Also I wrote this in two days idk what kind drugs I was on (amoxicillin and mucinex) but here is the wildly ridiculous and hilarious fic for a collab that no one asked for but we did anyways. Very very happy to share this trash idea with Jai and M 🥺

Special thanks to @here2bbtstrash for helping me edit because I was in a rush and at one point wrote that reader's head opened in the middle of sex. We don't know what I was talking about but happy halloween, reader's head was about to be posted splitting open in bed adkjadjdkja

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Playlist | Jeju Shore Collab

“So are you actually going to try and get fucked in that outfit or is it going to go to waste?” Tiffany asks as she sprays several pumps of Bath and Body Works Japanese Blossom all over herself. You cough as the sweet-smelling mist chokes you. She already has the lotion on. “You look hot, capital h-a-w-t.” 

The mirror of the hotel room is a little dirty - there is backsplash from the faucet staining the glass and some tiny dots of toothpaste. And you can definitely see Nicole’s fake tan staining the bottom corner after spraying her St. Tropez all over. 

You see Tiffany’s point about the outfit being wasted on you in a way. Low-rise, light-wash Lucky Brand jeans sans button, with the zipper pulled down just the slightest at Nicole’s behest. A shirt that was harder to get on than you think it will be to get off, made out of skin-tight pink fabric that only reaches your midsection, and even then, has a massive cutout over your abs. 

“Not this again,” you sigh, nervously playing with the belly button ring you had pierced the year before. A cute little Playboy bunny swings back and forth, hot pink rhinestones matching your shirt. 

“Yes, this again. You look so fucking hot tonight. A one-night stand will not kill you. It’s Labor Day. Please live a little.” Tiffany decides she has contributed to pollution enough, snapping the cap on her perfume bottle to turn around and face you. “You’re not in a relationship anymore. It’s time to be a slut.” 

“Yeeeeaaah be a slut!” Nicole yells, running into the room and grabbing you by the hips, slamming your ass into her crotch several times to crudely depict being fucked from behind. Her jean shorts are impossibly tight, red thong peeking out the sides. “It’s so much funner.”

“Funner isn’t a word.”

“God shut the fuck up for two seconds and be a hot idiot like Paris Hilton.”

Pushing your friend away, you nod. You love them and you know they’re right. You’re single and hot, and there are countless clubs all over with hot, single guys. You’ve never had a one-night stand, having been in a long-term relationship all throughout college until recently, and now you’re where single people come to get laid and you… have a night left to do it.

Tiffany’s iPod blasts in the living room of the hotel room. There are empty cups all over the counter, sticky and sweet smelling from the liquor and mixers spelled on most surfaces. You go to the fridge, pulling out a can of pineapple juice. 

Nicole gasps when she sees you reach for the bottle of Malibu on the counter. “WAIT! We need the song!” 

She rushes to the iHome, bending over the counter. She flips the song to Caribou Lou, wiggling her ass back and forth before she stands straight and points at you and the bottle of Malibu in your hands.

“151 rum, pineapple juice and malibu caribou get them all numb!” she screams, making you smile. 

Despite their earlier jesting, you relax as you mix drinks, singing along to the throwback while shaking your ass. The zipper on your jeans moves a few times, but you’re careful not to let your vagina make a surprise appearance. With how low-cut the jeans are, Tiffany had convinced you not to wear underwear.

Which was more of a reason to get laid. 

The drink is sweet and easy to drink. You scroll through your messages on BBM but otherwise give your attention to playing flip cup with your two best friends, determined to get just a little bit tipsy before you head out to the bars. 

The hotel isn’t very far away from all of the live entertainment. It’s within walking distance which saves a ton of money on cabs, but it is a nightmare for your feet the last three nights you’ve stumbled home in wedges. Nicole even broke one of her heels, walking home on uneven feet like a seesaw. 

When you’ve decided that you’ve pregamed enough, you and your friends teeter to the elevator and down through the lobby. Outside, the balmy air kisses your skin. A creamsicle sky has faded to black and you can see the lights of the entertainment district and hear the faint thunder of music from clubs with open doors and windows. 

You scrunch your nose when Nicole lights a cigarette on your walk. You smell the crackling menthol of her Newport as she takes a drag, hoarsely laughing at a group of men who catcall you from a sports bar as you walk by. You flick your hair over your shoulder, rolling your eyes. 

As if it were that easy.

Labor Day is in full swing around you. The street has barricades to open up to foot traffic only, and they’ve relaxed open container laws. There are a few food vendors on the road, people lined up to grab a quick slice of pizza or hot dogs to settle their tequila-churned stomachs.

A breeze makes your hair dance. It smells like fried food and a hint of salt from the ocean. It carries something else on it - a taste of something wild. You’re here with your friends on a vacation that you had originally planned to take with your boyfriend.

You can recognize now that it would have been a disaster. The two of you in a partying scene meant for singles would have signed your doom. But the end had come sooner than that when you found him with his dick down some girl's throat when you came home early from work. 

In hindsight, you always knew he wasn’t ready for a relationship. But you liked the way he called you baby, the way he peppered you with kisses to make you a little less angry at him, and the way that he made you feel when you weren’t fighting.

And you definitely like the way he drove his Escalade, and the fact that he could afford to take you places like the restaurant in the St. Regis and you stayed in lofty rooms at the Ritz Carlton while vacationing. 

Still. There had been a lot missing, namely in the bedroom, which is exactly why Tiffany and Nicole have been on your ass about at least trying to experience a one-night stand. They wanted you to expand your horizons, to learn what you do and don’t like, and to maybe stumble on someone who could actually make you cum more than two times out of ten. 

The first bar makes you lose a little hope. House music thumps loudly over the speakers. Jean-clad partygoers surround you, some on the dance floor shuffling their feet while maintaining a grip on sweating glasses and nodding their heads as the DJ thrusts a fist in the air. It’s not your type of club, but Nicole hits it off with someone in a larger group of people.

You exist on the edge of the conversation, picking at the slice of wilted pineapple in your drink as you watch the way Nicole plays her game. She’s excellent at flirting - a coy smile as she leans in to say something over the pumping music, balancing herself with a hand on his arm, swagging at his chest when he makes a funny joke.

It would be easy for you too if you thought any of the men were worth your time. They all look the same: bright polo, khaki shorts, hair gelled up. You want to tell them that Connecticut casual isn’t an outfit to the bar, but you say nothing, examining your nails for a while instead. 

One of the guys starts talking to you - Ben, you think his name might be. You bob your head to the music, listening as he explains what he does as a private financial advisor. Your eyes slip over every detail of his outfit: fitted Abercombie polo with the collar popped, khaki pants paired with brown sandals, a white shell necklace wrapped around a sunburned throat, and a tattoo of his former fraternity peeking from his sleeve on his bicep.

Whatever Ben is saying, you’re not listening. You’re almost positive that Ben fucks the way he dresses: generically. 

If you’re looking to experience something different, Ben - maybe Brian - isn’t it. You fucked Ben-Brians in college and they were as boring at sex as your ex-boyfriend was, except they couldn’t afford stone crab claws.

Everyone shifts to a new bar. You’ve molded your groups together, Ben or Brian - you’re starting to think maybe it’s Brad - is still by your elbow. You can sense he’s having a good time and you wish you were too. So you down a few shots at the next bar, loosening your limbs a little and making you a little less judgmental. 

Brad is okay. Not your type and he smells like Crest Whitestrips, but he’s more bearable now that you’ve switched from Pina Coladas to Tequila Sunsets. You nibble the stem of a cherry, enjoying this club much better than the last. The music is more hip hop and pop, familiar songs making you bob your head and sway your hips a little more.

Sweat makes your skin sticky. You shift to stand underneath the air vent by the bar a little more, but you misplace your wedge, knocking yourself off balance. Ben-Brian-Brad catches your arm and steadies you. Slides in closer. His mint breath fans your face and you blink up at him. For a split second, you consider if you were too harsh on his judgment earlier. Maybe he could surprise you. He seems easy enough to please and like it wouldn’t be hard work, and he’s already trying to win you over…

Your eyes slide past him for a second and your gaze stays fixed on the man you see coming down the stairs into the club. 

It’s nearly impossible to tear your gaze away once you see him. He runs a hand through his dark hair, laughing at something the man next to him says. He’s in dark jeans with bleached patches highlighting the material, a fitted Love Kills Slowly shirt by Ed Hardy, and even from a distance, you can see the glittering earrings in his ears.

He’s beautiful. Full lips pulling into a smirk as he winks at people he walks past. Brad rights you, asking you something but you don’t hear him, staring at the man across the bar who leans on the counter. He’s helped immediately, two bartenders drifting to a siren as they stare at him. 

As though he senses your gaze, the man looks at you and your face goes red. His eyes are seductive, narrowed a bit as he checks you out shamelessly. Dark hair gelled back perfectly. A jaw that is both elegant and dangerous. He stands out among the rest of the partiers, his features an exquisite blend of feminine and masculine. 

Your line of sight is cut off when Brad leans forward on the sticky countertop to order more drinks. You take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself. Your hands are a little shaky. Whoever that man is looks more your type, but the Ben-Brian-Brads of the world are much easier.

So you accept the new drink, sipping it and turning your back to the bar. And when you’re coaxed onto the dance floor, all disjointed limbs and sweating bodies, you forget about the Love Kills Slowly man and focus on the way you feel - dreamy and soft with the buzz of tequila in your veins. 

A song you vaguely recognize plays in the background. You sway your hips, ass pressed against Ben’s crotch with his hands gripped tightly on your sides. He sways you back and forth, less like a dance and more like an erratic pendulum that can’t find its rhythm. Ben’s dancing is less than impressive, and you start to think that your earlier thoughts about his skill in bed might be right. 

Tiffany laces your fingers with hers as she dances in front of you, pulling you away from Brian’s greedy hands to press your front against hers, letting you grind against her. You tilt your head back. Fog fills the air, lights dancing across the ceiling. It smells like the sticky-sweet of the machines used to make the fog, a tinge of sweat. 

Nicole interrupts your dancing. Your legs ache a little, pieces of hair stuck to the nape of your neck as she bounces up and down yelling, “You have got to see this guy.”

You and Tiffany laugh as Nicole pulls you, the press of bodies jostling you back and forth as you try to catch a rhythm to move through the crowd. When you break the barrier and come out on the other side, your brows shoot up at the scene in front of you. 

The Love Kills Slowly guy is posing next to a girl who points at his exposed six-pack and holy shit his body is insane. Perfectly cut abs, a solid v-line dipping into pants that fit his narrow waist. He holds the shirt up with a thumb, sticking out his tongue as the flash on the camera goes off. You can’t help but think his tongue is devilishly long. 

Up close, he’s even hotter than you thought. You stare at him as the girl who took the picture flirts with them. There is a gaggle of men and women surrounding him, a flock of geese looking upon the swan longingly.

“He is the hottest fucking person I’ve ever seen,” Tiffany giggles. “We should totes get a picture with this dude.”

“Why, is he famous?” You ask, watching as he nods and lets the girl touch his abs. God. What a tool. “He loves being the center of attention, it looks like.”

“So? He’s probably a model. I mean look at that. Come on.”

Tiffany yanks you and Nicole. You resist, stumbling over as she inserts herself into the conversation. He smiles at her, dazzling as he raises a brow at whatever she says. You pull your hand away from her and take a step back. You will not throw yourself at the Adonis in front of you. 

You pivot away from them, staring out over the open crowd. You don’t enjoy the way Tiffany and Nicole giggle, sweet as the simple syrup on the bar over this new stranger. They make it too easy, and you don’t enjoy the idea of melting for someone just because they’re hot. Even if they’re model hot.

And what kind of model wears Ed Hardy?

At first, Tiffany and Love Kills Slowly chat animatedly. That makes sense - she has a way with people and she’s an excellent flirt. When your name is called the first time, you think you imagine it so you stay bobbing your head to the Ke$ha song, minding your business. When it’s said a second time, you glance at them from the corner of your eye.

“You’re being rude,” Tiffany asserts, glaring at you. You feel your eye twitch as she touches an open nerve. You’re not rude - you’re bored and your drunk friend cannot tell the difference. “This is Jimin. I was right, he is a model.”

“That’s nice.”

Jimin’s eyes are on you and your stomach flips. You pick at the french manicure on your freshly done acrylics, thinking that the attention will pass you any moment now. But you feel Jimin’s eyes on you and you sense when he leans forward past Tiffany, ducking his head to level the most intense pair of brown eyes you’ve ever seen at you. 

“What?” He asked. “Don’t like models?”

“Not one that wears Ed Hardy,” you answer honestly. Your words come out a little stiff. You feel your arm tighten, squeezing your clutch that’s wedged in your armpit. “Shouldn’t you be in like… Armani or something?”

“You’re uptight.”

“Thanks.”

He frowns. “Loosen up.” He looks at your empty hands. “Come on, let’s get you a drink.”

“Why?” Jimin moves past Tiffany entirely, offering a hand and a smirk that almost makes your mouth pop open. Your heart does a tiny flip - you can’t help it. He is stupid beautiful. “I am drinking.”

“Your hands look a little empty to me.” He grabs one of your hands, linking your fingers and tugging. “Okay, one hand full. Let’s put some goose to make you loose in the other.” 

You’re speechless as he tugs you along. Tiffany squeals a little, she and Nicole both on your heels. 

People make room for Jimin at the bar. You watch the way people look at him. He drops your hand to dig a hand into the pocket of his skin-tight jeans for a credit card. His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he looks at you.

“What’s your drink, baby?” 

“I’m not your baby.”

The quip comes out before you can stop it. Tiffany smacks your arm and makes a noise behind you. You ignore her, staring at him pointedly. 

“Mmm she’s a brat. I like that. Your drink?” Jimin prompts again with a smile, undeterred. 

“Um. Anything with Tequila.”

“A girl after my own heart. You wanna do shots?”

“Yes!” Nicole and Tiffany both squeal. He smiles at them briefly, but his eyes drag back to you.

You stare. Jimin has a dark lash line, making his eyes more enchanting. He bites his bottom lip, letting his eyes drop down to your exposed midriff before dragging his eyes back up again, raising a brow in a question. 

He’s only buying shots if you want one. 

You shrug a shoulder, nonchalant. He grins and asks the bartender for chilled Patron shots with training wheels. With his back turned, you smirk, feeling a sliver of satisfaction as you look away from Jimin and spot the group of men you were with earlier looking in your direction, murmuring amongst themselves. 

Turning quickly before you can make eye contact with Ben-Brian-Brad, you find yourself face to face with Jimin once again. He leans on the bar with one elbow, head tilted as he studies you. His attention makes you feel warm and drunker than you already are. 

“You didn’t tell me your name,” he points out as the bartender sets four glasses of blanco tequila in front of you, rimmed with salt and garnished with a lime wedge. He picks up two glasses and hands them to Nicole and Tiffany’s hands as you give him your name. “Cute. You’re cute.”

“Thank you.” 

Jimin lifts his glass in your direction. “Salude.” 

You watch, mouth parted slightly as Jimin’s tongue curls out of his mouth, licking the rim of the shot glass slowly. His eyes don’t leave yours, even when he’s finished the rim and tosses the tequila back before biting into the lime. A tiny bit of lime juice runs down his chin, your eyes following the trail. His tongue darts out to snatch it. 

“Come on,” he purrs. “Your turn.”

Your mouth is dry. You quickly lick the salted rim, barely making it around before tossing the shot back and squeezing your eyes shut as it burns down the back of your throat. You bite into the lime wedge, the sour taste helping ease the burn. 

Juice runs down your chin. Before you can wipe it, Jimin’s hand darts out, a thumb brushing across your skin to catch it. He removes his hand, lips twitching upward slightly as he absently sucks the juice from his thumb and turns to the bartender to order two tequila sours. 

“Are you on vacation?” he asks and you nod your head, a little dizzy from the shot and from him. The group of men from earlier has shuffled back toward your group, Nicole and Tiffany reluctantly shifting attention from Jimin to the men they were talking to previously. “Same. I have no idea where my friends are, I think they left me.” He slides a drink toward you. “You won’t leave me, right?” 

“Depends.”

“On?”

“If you’re nice or not. I like nice guys.”

He sips his drink, leering at you over the rim of the glass. “I’m a nice guy. At least, for you.” He nods his head toward the group of guys. “You have a boyfriend?”

“Would you care if I did?”

He throws his head back to laugh, throat covered in a light sheen of sweat. He looks at you over the glass, the first genuine smile not filled with something lingering on lust that he gives you. “No, but you told me to be nice.” 

That makes you smile a bit. You bite your lip, trying to hide it, and decide to sip the drink. It’s good - strong - but good. “You seem like the type who wouldn’t care.”

“Awe don’t hurt my feelings. You’re like one of the hottest girls in here and I’m into it. If I had to ignore a ring or a boyfriend, I would. Is that so bad?” You shrug, sipping on the drink. You don’t know what to say. 

Thankfully, Jimin doesn’t really seem to care. You think perhaps he likes hearing himself talk. It works out. Jimin fills the conversation with the normal what do you do and what do you like? You don’t miss the way he leans in toward you, or the way he glances at your mouth. 

Still, you’re a little rigid. Your sentences aren’t as smooth and practiced as his. He doesn’t seem to care, shuffling a little close to you as the bar fills up with people. He smells like Axe Essence and the 5 gum he’s popped into his mouth between drinks. 

“Trying to quit coke,” he snickers when he sticks another piece of gum in his mouth. “Got some bad press for it during last fashion week and my agency keeps threatening to drop me even though it's obviously a pre-fucking-requisite to walk for McQueen.” 

“And chewing gum helps with that?”

“Not really, but it gives my mouth something to do and it soothes the muscle memory of hand to face.”

“Smart.”

“You look incredible by the way.” That makes you blush, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and ducking your head. Jimin chuckles, tapping your chin lightly with a finger to make you look back up at him. “Cute.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re a bit of a spoiled brat, huh?” That makes you frown and pull away. He whines, hands chasing your shoulders to draw you closer to him. “Stop. I like that. It means you have high standards and good taste.” 

You hum, finishing the rest of your drink. You’re properly drunk now, the room tilting a little bit as a giggle escapes you when Jimin looks at you. He laughs back, sliding a glass of water over to you after he takes a few sips. 

The water is refreshing. Your skin feels warm all over and you move a little slower, looking around. The club is more packed than you remember and there are more bodies on the dance floor. You watch the way people move together, pressed up against one another and grinding to the music humming through the air. 

Jimin follows your gaze, leaning closer to you and popping his gum in your ear. “Wanna dance?” 

You nod, looking up at him through your lashes. He grins and pushes off the bar, sliding a hand around your waist to shift you in front of him. You look at him over your shoulder with narrowed eyes and he smiles, tucking you to his chest and sliding his chin on your shoulder. 

“Coming through,” he calls, walking you both through the group behind you. Ben-Brian-Brad glares at you and you avert your eyes as Jimin guides you toward the dance floor, pads of his fingers pressed firming into your hips and scouring marks into your skin. “Tool in the polo definitely has a small dick.”

You giggle as you peel apart, Jimin catching your hand as you turn to face him, pulling him with you. “What makes you say that?”

“His fucking collar is popped, baby.” 

“I think he’s mad at me,” you admit.

“You’re way out of his league.”

“That’s true.”

Jimin wraps his hands around your wrist and yanks you to him. You gasp, stumbling as your chests press together. He slots a thigh between your legs, making you freeze for a moment as the music slows a bit. Jimin’s hands are confident where they settle on your waist, moving your hips in a soft rhythm as he begins to move. 

Instincts take over. You wrap your arms around Jimin’s neck, letting him press his forehead against yours as he stares you down. He’s no longer controlling your hips but letting you move against him naturally, both of your bodies in sync. 

Jimin is an amazing dancer, never forcing you to sway too much or trying to control your movements awkwardly. He rolls his hips into you experimentally once and you gasp lightly, noses brushing together. 

“You’re fucking hot,” he mumbles, his breath fanning your face. 

“So are you.”

Your fingers slide through the dark, sweaty strands at the back of his neck. He lets out an appreciative noise, making your insides melt. Your eyes drop to his lips, slightly parted, slicked with gloss from his pink tongue darting out to wet them. You wonder how soft they must feel, and the way he used his tongue to lick the salt from the rim of the tequila glass makes you wonder what kissing him is like.

You don’t have to wonder long. Jimin notices you staring. Gives you a wolfish grin. You think he looks wicked in the low light, all sharp eyes with a cunning smile. 

And then he’s kissing you. 

You make a sound of surprise, but it’s swallowed in his warm, minty mouth. Your fingers tighten in his hair as he presses the small of your back so that you’re impossibly closer. 

It’s easy to forget you’re in the middle of the dance floor. Jimin’s mouth moves slowly against yours, sucking your bottom lip greedily as he pulls away for a split second. Before you can chase his lips with yours, he’s kissing you again, with a little more vigor and a curious tongue that swipes the seam of your lips.

You open your mouth to him and Jimin consumes you. You’re spinning, holding onto him for dear life as he sucks your tongue into his mouth. Fuck, you knew his tongue would be good. It makes you light-headed as he licks into your mouth, fingers clawing at you as a whine escapes his throat. 

Suddenly the kiss breaks. You blink up at him, stars in your eyes and cotton-fuzz thoughts, lost in him. Jimin isn’t looking at you though, he’s looking at the DJ and yelling, pointing over your head as he detaches from you. 

“This is my fucking song,” he yells at you, as though he hadn’t been tongue fucking your mouth a moment ago. You look at him, dazed and confused. He notices and pops a kiss on your mouth. “God, you're needy. Don’t pout, I’ll kiss you more after.” 

“What makes you think I want to kiss you more?”

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leans forward and kisses you once. Twice. It’s sweet and leaves your mind scattered as he guides you backward slightly before smacking your ass lightly. 

“Watch,” he instructs. “And try not to be a brat about it, yeah?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Jerk by New Boyz is on in the background. Jimin sweeps his arms, backing people away before he starts walking quickly in a circle, bobbing his head to the music and making room for his little show. 

A circle clears in the middle of the dance floor. You cross your arms with raised brows, Michael Kors clutch tucked in your armpit as you watch Jimin wave people back as the song plays. All eyes are on him, cheering as he nods and smirks at the crowd, turning to blow you a cheeky kiss.

You roll your eyes but smile anyways.

Jimin decides he has enough room and right as the chorus starts, he begins to hop and shuffle his feet backward then forward. The crowd goes wild, clapping their hands as he manages to execute the jerk without slipping on the beer and liquor-stained floor.

He spins and drops low, going down to the floor. The crowd yells for him, clapping and cheering him on as Jimin slowly works his way back up. His devious tongue is tucked against his plush upper lip, the hint of a smirk on his mouth.

More guys join the dancing, showing off their moves. Jimin, not one to be outshined, sticks his tongue out all the way, rolling his eyes back as he shakes his head and hooks a thumb in the hem of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal a flawless set of abs, shining in the glittering lights.

The women go crazy as he laughs manically, gesturing to his impressive physique to the other dancers, who roll their eyes and back off. You’re jostled from side-to-side, rolling your eyes when Jimin drops his shirt and dances his way over to you, eyes looking you up and down.

You give him an unimpressed look, yawning and looking the other way as he grips your hips, fingers digging into your flesh through the jeans. “Come on,” he purrs. “Spoiled brat not impressed?”

You are. You just don’t want to be.

“Nope,” you say.

He crowds your space as the circle closes and the song changes. Jimin presses his hips against yours and your stomach drops. Your eyes snap back to his as his hands brush backward, squeezing the sides of your ass.

Jimin’s hot breath touches your lips. He smells like tequila and his cologne. He’s sweating through the Ed Hardy shirt, making it cling to the firm body underneath. Your toes curly slightly as you bite your bottom lip, looking up at him through your lashes.

“If that’s how good I dance,” Jimin murmurs, so close that his nose is touching yours. “Imagine how good I lay pipe.”

You cringe at the way he phrases it, but you’re intrigued. Your friends taunting you for your lack of sexual experience earlier replays in your mind. So you play along, raising a brow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You wrap your arms around him when someone knocks into you. He noses the line of your jaw, breath warm in your ear when he whispers. “So like… you DTF or what?”

“What?”

“You know, down to fuck. I’ve been wanting to fuck the shit out of you since I saw you staring at me across the bar.”

“I was not staring.”

“Shit, I would stare if I were you too, baby.” 

You smack his shoulder, pulling away from him slightly. Your heart pounds in your rib cage as you stare at him. His eyes are expectant, waiting for your response. 

Before your ex, you would have never thought to sleep with someone you just met at a bar. You know very little about Jimin besides the fact that he likes to hear himself talk, that he’s a little arrogant and that he is wildly, ridiculously hot. 

Jimin nibbles on his bottom lip, squeezing your hips to tell you he’s still waiting on an answer. The way your stomach flips and you already feel arousal at the cocky way he asserts himself tells you what you want to say. 

“I think so…”

“You think so or you know so?” Your mouth is dry and you don’t know what to say, so you shrug. He seems to read you. “You never went home with a guy at a bar before?”

“No.”

“Come on,” he whines, sliding his hands in your back pockets. “I’ll be really sweet.”

“Yeah?”

He leans down, nudging his nose with yours. You laugh, leaning back a bit but Jimin is persistent, chasing the intimate contact. “Yeah. I’ll even make sure you cum first.”

“We’ll see.” His hands squeeze your ass through your pockets. “My place or-“

“Yours. My friends are stupid fucks.”

Sliding your hand in his, you pull Jimin along. He presses himself close to your back when you walk, sticking the hand not holding yours in your pocket to give your ass an experimental poke. You hiss at him but end up giggling when he wags his eyebrows up and down.

You find Tiffany and Nicole dancing with the original group of guys. Ben-Brian-Brad is glaring at you openly now, and Jimin is pressed behind you so close that you can feel the cool metal of his zipper on your lower back. 

Tiffany and Nicole assure you they’re going to another club and will go to the beach house that the guy group is staying at. With gloss-stain cheek kisses and goodbyes, you leave them dancing as Jimin wraps a hand around your waist, gluing you together as you stumble out into the night.

The strip of bars is full of people. Cool air kisses your skin, making you moan in relief a bit as you begin walking toward your hotel. Your steps are uneven, you and Jimin pushing one another back and forth as you try to navigate your way home. You stumble a little too far when he presses a kiss to your neck, leaning on you too much for your drunk weight to bear and sending you several steps. 

“Owww,” you whine. “That hurt my ankle. I’m in heels and my feet hurt, Jimin.” You drop his hand and look up at him, sticking out your bottom lip in an animated pout. “Give me a piggyback ride.” 

“Hmmm. What do I get in return?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you ride my back, I need to… ride you.”

You roll your eyes. “I already told you I’ll have sex with you, idiot.”

“Yeah but I could really use a good blow job.”

You scrunch your nose. “Fine.” 

Jimin grins, letting go of you to squat and look over his shoulder at you, eyes glittering. “All aboard the Park express. Next stop: pound town.”

Huffing, you place either hand on Jimin’s shoulders and jump a little. He catches you easily, hands gripping your thighs firmly. You shiver at the feeling of his hands. Jimin straightens and you wrap your arms around his neck, settling your chin over his right shoulder.

“You’re kind of a jerk-off, huh?”

He grins as he starts to walk. “A little. But you’re kind of a bitch, so I think it works.”

You hum - he has a point.

The piggyback ride is just as dangerous as the walk. Jimin walks crooked sometimes, only for you to yell and smack his shoulder to send him back in a straight line. He gets distracted by a pizza stand which makes you flick his ear. And when you’re finally in front of the automatic double doors to your hotel, he is gasping for air and immediately sags against the elevator wall.

“You’re fuckin’ heavy.”

“That is so rude.”

“Baby, I am wasted and I haven’t done coke in like a week. It’s not you - it’s me.”

“What a cheesy line.” 

“Speaking of.” His hand feels around his back pocket before dipping into the fabric and removing a tiny Altoid tin. “My sobriety will not come at the expense of me cumming early. I’m going to need a little extra to fuck you right.” 

“Thought you were quitting?”

“I mean, do you want me to get my dick up?” The elevator opens and you try to hide your laugh behind your hand. “And now you’re laughing at me? Baby you’re going to hurt my feelings.”

“Sorry, it was just funny. Do whatever you want. You promised to make me cum first.”

“Never had a guy who did that?”

“Nope.”

Jimin makes a disgusted noise as you swipe the hotel key card in the reader. It flashes green and you swing the door open into the freezing room. It’s a little disheveled, but it’s at least not an embarrassing display of the room. You’re suddenly thrilled that it’s a suite with two rooms. 

The door clicks behind you and Jimin slides closer to you, pulling you by the belt loops. You’re prepared for his kiss this time, opening your mouth the second his soft lips meet yours. It’s sloppy and wet, Jimin sucking your bottom lip hungrily as he pulls your belt loops a little harder.

Carefully, Jimin walks you backward. He taps the side of your thighs and dips down as you jump. He catches your legs, hauling you the rest of the way onto the island counter where you spread your legs for him. 

Jimin slots himself between your thighs easily. At this height, you’re more on his level, but Jimin leans into you, pushing you back slightly as he controls the kiss. It’s more eager and demanding than the one in the club, Jimin sucking on your tongue and licking the rough of your mouth experimentally. 

Planting his hands on either side of your ass on the counter, Jimin trails kisses along your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling, and you become breathy. His mouth is noisy and wet against your skin, sucking at the tender flesh under your ear gently before biting lightly. The pinch of skin makes you moan, the sound lost in the lighting above the counter.

“So fucking pretty,” Jimin murmurs, continuing his assault with his mouth. His tongue is just as dangerous, licking over each bite he places as he drifts to your collarbone. “You want a line?”

You shake your head no. He presses closed-mouth kisses back up your neck until he’s straightened out to be eye-level. He brushes your nose with his. Sticks his tongue out and watches you expectantly. You tentatively stick yours out too, making a squeal when his tongue licks at yours.

“Weirdo,” you murmur, cheeks heated and shivering when he pulls away from you to pop open the Altoid tin. There’s a tiny plastic bag inside, sealing the white powder. “You like using tongue.”

Jimin hums in agreement as he stays between your legs, untwisting the bag. “I have a good tongue,” he says as he leans over, dumping a little onto the counter. You watch wordlessly. “I like to eat pussy too.” 

You nearly lay back on the counter and ascend to heaven right there. No one has been so open and bold with you when speaking about sexual acts. And the fact that he says it so casually as he looks around for something flat with an edge makes you dizzy. You produce the room key and he grins, kissing your nose once before he takes it and cuts the powder into two, thin white lines. 

“Do you need a bill too?” you joke. He shakes his head and pulls out a dollar bill that looks like it was once crisp but has been rolled over and over and over, making it look soft and pliant. “You don’t use hundreds?” 

“I’m a model,” he grunts. “Not a Kardashian.” 

That makes you laugh. 

Jimin’s fingers are practiced as he rolls the bill. You can’t help but stare at the rings that you did not notice before, each one placed on a delicate finger. He has nice hands, veins jumping as he places one hand on the counter to hold himself up as the other holds the rolled bill. 

Your knees squeeze his sides a bit as Jimin does the first line. It’s loud in the apartment with just the sound of his sharp inhaling, so you lean a bit to hit the iPod on the iHome dock, flicking through the touchscreen to find a song you like. 

You settle on a playlist Tiffany has loaded in called Party Jamz. She Wolf starts playing loudly, drowning out the sound of Jimin finishing his second line as you hit the volume button a few times to lower it. 

Straightening, you come face to face with Jimin as he wipes his nose a bit, taking a few sharp inhales. He runs his tongue along the edge of the room key before swiping his finger through the residue on the counter. There’s not much coke on the pad of his thumb, but he holds it to your mouth, watching.

Obediently, you open your mouth. He slides his thumb under your upper lip, rubbing gently on your gums. You taste how bitter the drug is, making a bit of a face that makes him giggle as he removes his finger from your mouth, sucking the thumb into his mouth briefly. 

“You want a glass of water?” 

You nod and he vanishes from in between your legs. He sings to himself as he grabs glasses and goes to the fridge, the ice machine loud above the music. You watch him with heavy eyes, your body feeling a little like liquid from all the tequila. 

He reappears, holding a glass of water to your lips. He tilts it carefully as he drinks his own, dark eyes watching you. You sip carefully, the water cool and refreshing as he continues to tip the glass. A bead of water runs down your chin and neck. 

Jimin is fast. He sets down both cups of water and surges forward, tongue chasing the bead of liquid as it runs down your throat. You lean backward, keeping yourself up with your palms planted on the cool counter as Jimin kisses and bites your neck. A moan escapes your mouth and absently, you’re glad you chose Jimin to go home with you.

You grab Jimin by his face, pulling kiss-bitten lips to yours and devouring him whole. He grunts in appreciation, mouth cooled by the water as his tongue dances with yours. His handles are not idle, rubbing up and down your jean-clad thighs, alternating between the gentle press of fingers and pointed drag of nails. 

Jimin’s kissing is like nothing else you’ve had before. He’s skilled, leading you between fast, hungry clashing of teeth and tongue and slow, languid movements. You’re dizzy with him, a buzz of electricity under your skin and heat pooling in your stomach long before his hands dip to your zipper, pulling the metal down. 

Eager hands slide to your hips where Jimin gathers the fabric. Your kiss breaks momentarily, a single line of spit connecting you for a second before you lift your ass off the counter, letting Jimin pull harshly at your pants. The fabric slides, making him cuss out loud when he realizes you’re not wearing underwear. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs, tossing your jeans and pressing your thighs open. You shiver as the cold air hits your pussy. Jimin’s eyes are hungry as he drags a thumb up the center of your glossy folds, a high-pitched sound leaving you. “Spoiled brat wearing no underwear? You’re just dying to have this pussy fucked, huh?”

“Please.”

“Hmm.” Jimin presses his thumb into your clit. Your eyes roll back in your head. The pressure sends a shiver through you, sparking every nerve in your body as he barely wiggles his thumb back and forth. “Shit you’re so sensitive. Gonna scream while I eat you out?”

“Maybe.”

His thumb slides lower, teasing your clenching hole. You open your eyes, head heavy as you look at him. He’s slid down to his knees, looking up at you through long lashes with a smirk on his face. Your shirt is still on, but you don’t even care. Jimin’s hot breath is on your inner thighs as he bites your flesh softly, making your legs try to close.

“Don’t suffocate me,” he chastises you. “Wanna fuckin’ taste though.”

Everything turns to white noise as Jimin leans forward, running his long tongue from your dripping hole to your throbbing clit. You seize forward, gasping for air and clenching your fists as he pins your legs harder. Your muscles strain, the stretch a little painful but the good kind paired with the way he licks you slowly. 

Your blood turns into melted metal. You go boneless, laying back on the counter, knocking over cups, sending them scattering. You knock into the iHome, the iPod coming disconnected and cutting off the music. It doesn’t matter. Now you can hear the way Jimin sucks at your clit, making you moan loudly. 

From the moment you saw his tongue, you wondered what it would be like. You pictured nothing like this. Jimin eats you out slowly, tongue curious yet lazy as he circles your clit in a steady rhythm before sucking your bud into his mouth and squeezing with his lips lightly.

“Fuck, Jimin,” you whisper, voice hoarse from disuse. One of your hands falls across your eyes, blocking the light from the ceiling as Jimin splays you open for his mouth to explore. You’re panting, the other hand threading through his hair, gel making it easier to grab onto. “Feels so fucking good.”

And it does. 

“Tastes so sweet,” he mumbles, pulling away with a lewd, loud suck on your clit. “Your pretty little hole is just fucking dripping. Gonna fuck you open with my fingers to get you nice and stretched for me.”

You can’t come up with a verbal response. Something like a whine and hum of agreement slips out. Your hips twitch as his mouth turns firmer, tongue flicking over your clit quickly followed by his lips sucking at your wet hole.

There has never been a time someone enjoyed themselves so much while paying attention to your pleasure. Jimin is skilled and focused on bringing his fingers into the action. You feel him slowly trace the rim of your entrance with his fingers, applying just enough pressure to make you curse and squirm but not enough to slide in. 

It fucking aches. Your fingers tighten in his hair, begging him to make you feel fuller. Jimin chuckles, the vibrations going straight through you, your muscles spasming. 

Slowly, Jimin adds a single finger, the slide relieving some of the tension directly in your pussy. You let out a soft breath, sagging on the counter as he matches the gentle in-and-out of his finger with the steady licking of his tongue on your clit. 

The tight feeling of your orgasm is winding like a spring in your stomach. You can feel it, the pressure building and so compact that you struggle to breathe, finding yourself gasping for air when Jimin adds another finger to the mix. He applies pressure right against your front wall, pressing that spot that has you seeing stars.

You might be babbling now. You don’t know what comes out of your mouth. Stars are dancing behind your eyes and you struggle to remember not to hold your breath, to try and regulate your breathing as he increases speed. He’s messy now, sucking and licking and rubbing his nose against your clit. Jimin uses his entire face to get you off and you’re spiraling. 

It all happens at once. A deep breath in. Held tight in your chest, muscles seizing and your body going rigid. Jimin’s fingers push against your g-spot hard as he sucks your clit into his mouth and you scream.

Your orgasm snaps in half, everything going loose at once. You feel yourself clench around his fingers, so tight that Jimin pauses his movements, tongue licking at your sensitive pussy gently as you shake. Your hands cover your face now, breathing rapidly into your palms as the room fills with white noise. 

After a moment, your muscles start to relax. Jimin gives an experimental thrust with his fingers and you whine, making him laugh. 

“God, you came so fucking hard,” he growls from between your legs. He gently pulls his fingers from you, making you protest and drop your hands from your face. You open your eyes as the room spins, lifting your head to look where Jimin now stands between your legs. He sucks his fingers into his mouth, smirking around them. “Mmm. You’re a creamer. I like that.” 

You have no response for him. He doesn’t need one. Jimin lifts you from the counter and for a moment, the world tilts dangerously on its axis and you think you might vomit. The spinning is short-lived as he carries you to the bedroom, tossing you on the bed hard enough to make you bounce. 

“Jesus Christ, Jimin,” you mumble, righting yourself in the sheets. He laughs, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it. Your eyes zero in on his body and your mind goes blank. “Jesus Christ, Jimin.”

“Jesus had nothing to do with this.” He smacks his abs with a hand. “This is creatine, determination, and seven days a week at the gym, baby.”

Jimin flexes his stomach. His chest and abs are toned and well-defined. The low lighting of the bar had done him an injustice that is rectified in the lamp light of the bedroom. There’s a black tattoo on his ribcage that you can’t read, but think looks really good on him anyway. 

Jeans slung low on his hips, Jimin shuffles over to the bed. You can see his dick straining against his pants. When he leans over to catch your lips with his, your hand immediately goes to his crotch, gripping gently through the material. He moans into your mouth, the kiss full of spit and your essence. 

From the way your hand presses against his straining cock, you can tell Jimin is big. With nervous hands, you pull at his zipper. He pulls away for a moment, leaving you frowning and confused.

“How do you get this fucking shirt off,” he mumbles, sliding a finger under the strap going across your stomach. “It’s confusing.”

“Like a normal shirt,” you giggle. 

“Like a normal shirt,” he mimes in a high-pitched voice. “Off. Wanna see those fucking tits.” 

Leaning forward, you help Jimin pull your shirt off, followed by the pink bra with a little bow in the middle. He doesn’t seem to have an appreciation for lingerie, immediately pushing you down by your sternum once you’re fully naked so he can lavish your chest with his mouth. 

Jimin’s mouth is always hungry. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, making you gasp and forget that you had been trying to get his pants off. You go limp as his tongue flicks over your pert bud experimentally, his other hand tweaking the opposite peak. Both bring out a response, eliciting a grin from him.

Remembering that Jimin is still in jeans, your hands surge forward, pulling at the zipper. You can see Calvin Klein briefs peaking just out the top of his jeans. With the zipper undone, there’s enough room for you to slide your hand in and grip Jimin’s cock firmly over the fabric of his briefs. 

“Shit,” he moans, head resting in the valley of your breasts. “Come on, take my cock out. Wanna stuff that mouth of yours full.” 

You don’t hesitate. You help Jimin out of his jeans, momentarily distracted by his powerful thighs and the way they flex as he bends to pull his briefs down. Your mouth goes dry as his heavy cock bobs against his navel when he’s free of his briefs. 

Jimin might be a lithe model, but his cock is anything but. 

Smooth, heavy, flushed-brown tip, and thick. Your hand goes for it as he crawls up the bed, straddling your waist and looking down at you through half-lidded eyes. Your hand wraps around the velvet shaft, making him twitch a bit. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, watching you give an experimental stroke. 

Jimin moans. It’s such a pretty sound. You shift under him to give yourself a better angle. Your hand drifts upward, collecting the pearly precum gathered at his tip. You spread it on his shaft on the downstroke, watching as Jimin’s eyes close, head falling back. 

You gather spit in your mouth, letting go of his cock briefly. He looks down as if to chastise you, but before his comment can escape, you spit into your palm and bring it back up to his cock, giving a smooth stroke, grip firmer and more precise as you twist at the head.

“God,” he moans as you watch his muscles spasm in his abs. “Don’t just jerk me off like a middle schooler, put me in your mouth.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m trying. Just suck me off a bit first.”

You huff at his impatience. 

Sliding further down the bed, Jimin meets you halfway, lowering a bit so that you can pull the tip of his cock into your mouth for an experimental suck. He curses and you grin, the saltiness on your tongue spurring you to take him in a little further.

It’s a vulnerable angle. Jimin can control the pace and fuck down into your mouth if he wants. Instead, he’s patient as you let the spit collect in your mouth, lifting your head to take a little more in your mouth each time.

Your tongue runs along the bottom of his shaft, providing a smooth glide as Jimin helps you out, sinking into your mouth a little more each time. He’s cursing and moaning above you, lost in the way you hollow your cheeks to provide better suction. You’re fascinated by the way his long lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, and you realize he has a few freckles that are… endearing. 

It’s a weird thing to notice, so you suck harder, trying to focus on the task at hand. 

Jimin grows more needy, fucking into your mouth so that he’s controlling the pace. You adjust, letting your jaw go slack to accommodate the stretch - and it’s a difficult stretch - making sure to guard your teeth and to let your drool help the glide.

“Your mouth takes my cock so well,” he hums. “How about that throat? Can I fuck that too?”

You nod, which is difficult with a mouth full of Jimin’s precum and cock. He grits his teeth, grabbing the bottom of your jaw gently to adjust the angle and start fucking into your mouth in earnest. 

Breathing is difficult - you remind yourself to try and breathe through your nose, letting out little sounds of euphoria around him that rile him up. You can feel your essence dripping down your thighs, turned on by the way Jimin growls every time the tip kisses the back of your throat. 

Once or twice your throat seizes up around him. He’s careful to pull out and let you breathe for a moment, spit and a little cum leaking down the sides of your mouth and down your chin, tears pooling in your eyes.

With one hand, Jimin slides the glossy tip of his cock through the mess on your chin before tracing your lips a few times, smearing the mess over your swollen mouth. 

“Lipstick,” he murmurs, nearly ruining the moment.

Before you can reply, Jimin slides his cock back into the heat of your mouth, sighing in relief as he starts to thrust in earnest again.

Just as the crown of his cock starts to brush the deeper part of your throat, Jimin pulls out, cursing. “Need to fuck this messy pussy of yours or I’ll bust,” he growls. “Turn over for me. Let me see that pretty ass.” 

Crawling from underneath him, you do as he says, too eager to care that he’s bossing you around. Your limbs are trembling as you prop yourself up on your knees, ass in the air and chest and head pressed to the bed. You look at him sideways, cheek on the mattress as he settles behind you, hands kneading the fat of your ass, giving you experimental squeezes.

It feels nice, the way his hands soothe your muscles and skate over soft flesh. He gives you an experimental slap and you squeal, making him grin. 

“Gunna rearrange your fucking guts,” he murmurs, grabbing the base of his cock. 

“Wait - condom?”

He gives you a look. “What? Are we in middle school? I’m not fucking you with a condom, I won’t feel shit.”

“What? How do I know if you’re clean?” 

“Um, does it look like I have something?”

“You can’t always tell.”

“Well, I don’t have a condom.”

You pause, glaring at him. Neither one of you moves. “Okay, well then pull out.”

He scoffs. “Obviously I’m going to cum in your mouth like a gentleman.” 

You roll your eyes. Even though he is wildly attractive and can pull an orgasm out of you with oral, Jimin is still a fucking ass. But he’s an ass who is good at what he does, so you shut up. 

Not that you can speak as he runs his cockhead through your wet folds. You moan, hearing how wet you are for him. He pushes the tip of his cock in slightly, just enough to make your hole flutter around him. You gasp, fists twisting in sheets as he sits there, letting you clench and unclench around him.

“Jimin,” you moan. 

“Ask nicely,” he teases. “Or you’re just gonna get the tip of my cock. I can feel your pussy fucking begging for it. Now you need to ask.”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.”

“Yeah? Want me to split you open?”

“Yes.”

“Want me to fuck that cervix until you’re screaming?” You pause. He pauses. “Okay that wasn’t very hot, was it?”

“Not really-”

Jimin cuts you off, thrusting in hard on a single upstroke. You gasp, mind going blank and forgetting about his terrible fumble at dirty talk as his cock does hit something inside of you that sends you into a torrent of heat and trembling limbs.

He sets a fast pace, not letting you adjust to his girth. Jimin’s hips piston perfectly against yours, your ass snapping back into his hips with each thrust. You can barely breathe, panting into the sheets as you bounce backward, sharing the effort to meet him for each powerful stroke.

It feels amazing.

You close your eyes, getting lost in the way his cock fills up every part of you, the slide smooth and velvet against your walls, the tip brushing gently against your g-spot every time he thrusts in. 

Your stomach feels like it's flipping over and over again, each one of Jimin’s thrusts so deep you swear you feel it in your chest. Your thoughts start to slip away, your front half sinking further into the mattress as Jimin’s fingers dig into the meat of your ass.

“Fuck,” he pants. “This pussy is so fucking tight. You're just fucking taking it and this ass-” he slaps your flesh sharply, making you squeal. “You hear that? Fucking getting clapped.” 

You don’t have it in you to be annoyed at him. And he has a point - the slap of hips against ass, balls against pussy is loud. 

The same feeling coils in your stomach again. You squeeze your eyes shut, barely able to breathe around the pleasure and the feeling of Jimin fucking you so full. It winds and winds and winds, and as it’s about to snap, you hold your breath.

Jimin gives a hard thrust followed by another, and you cum with a scream. You go from frozen, clenched muscles to boneless limbs in a moment. Jimin presses his hands into the small of your back, pushing you so far into the mattress that you can barely breathe as you bear his full weight.

With a few disjointed thrusts, Jimin cums, grunting and digging nails into your back.

For a few moments, neither of you moves. You can barely remember where you are, much less ask Jimin to pull his weight off of you to give you air. He’s still pressed into you, the heavy weight of him sinking you further into sweat-soaked sheets.

Jimin relents. He slowly pulls his cock out of you and you feel the mess slicking between your legs. It’s sticky and wet, more than you have ever felt before. He falls unceremoniously to the side, nearly wheezing for air.

The room is filled with heavy breaths and the smell of sweat and sex. Strands of hair and sheets stick to your skin. You shuffle, trying to roll over a bit to look at him. Your limbs are sore and stretched from the press of his hands and the force of his hips spreading yours, but it’s a good sore. 

Jimin is flushed, sweaty, and half-asleep. His hand is on his stomach, sticky with cum. 

“OH MY GOD YOU DIDN’T PULL OUT!” You scream, sitting up with sheets stuck to your back and hair all over. “YOU ASSHOLE!”

“Please stop screaming,” he groans, covering his face. “I’ll buy you Plan B in the morning.”

“You’re the fucking worst!”

“Well,” he sighs. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll fuck you again to make you feel better.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, heart racing. You stare at Jimin for a moment. Two moments. You drop your arms and lay back on the bed. “Yeah,” you huff. “Fine, whatever.”

Who were you to turn down another round like that? Your ex and his Escalade are long forgotten now.

[stranded-labyrinth]

Hi I wanted to know your take on the Will and Abigail dynamic? I know Hannibal nurtured that paternal feeling in Will, but Will never truly knew her. He had this version of her in his head that he could control, how she reacted to him etc but barely talked to her irl. yet I feel like their relationship is exaggerated when people discuss it or portray it in fics. Will too, in a way, saying how he still dreams about her, that he’s teaching her how to fish. Why do you think Will holds on to the ideal? bc if Abigail had lived, she wouldn’t live up to this image he created. She’s flawed and actually more like Hannibal than Will. Sorry for the rambling but it’s interesting to dissect!

okay, so here's the thing for me.

Will had a version of her in his head, certainly, but between him and Hannibal, Will was NOT the one using Abigail as a tool. Hannibal did definitely care about her, we know that for a fact, but she was still a tool for him to use. Will was coping to hell and back, but fantasizing about fatherhood is different from straight up using her to tie him closer to someone else like Hannibal did.

Will didn't get to interact with her much because the opportunity was taken from him. granted, he felt exceptionally betrayed when he realized what she had done and contributed to, but he didn't want her dead. the next time he sees her is Mizumono, and that's where he discovers that Hannibal's plan this whole time has still been to essentially craft this little family with him, to start back from what they had before. a family Will never got to fully engage with unless Hannibal sewed the seeds for it, only for the opportunity to be taken from him. twice.

i feel like people's exaggeration of their relationship is a two way street, honestly: some people exaggerate the bond they had, while others exaggerate the lack thereof.

i also like to try to turn people's attention to the fact that Abigail was shocked when Hannibal gutted Will. not just because of the act itself, but because Hannibal had been allowing Abigail to expect that the three were going to leave together. Abigail fully expected this little family to come into fruition, because Hannibal invited her in on his plans for it, seeing as she had literally no one else to turn to. that doesn't necessarily mean that Abigail was going to somehow love Will like a father, but she did anticipate some kind of family dynamic, just like Hannibal had allowed Will to anticipate back in season 1.

while Will and Abigail both certainly have agency in what happened, i feel like people have a tendency to put the blame for their messy dynamic on Will instead of on the one who filled both Will and Abigail's heads with the idea that they would be a family. Hannibal is the one who named Will's feeling as "paternal", and he fed that as much as he could.

not to mention, Abigail is plenty capable of manipulating those around her. she knew exactly what she did, and she knew what she had enjoyed doing. she allowed everyone to believe she was the perfect victim, because it was saving herself to do so.

there's a lot more to say about the concept of Abigail having believed Will to be more like GJH when Hannibal was more like him, but i don't want to just end up rambling more than i already have LOL. i just believe that if the murder family became a thing, Abigail would probably end up manipulating the shit out of Will by feeding into his paternal feelings because it would save her, much like she did with GJH, and much like she did even with Hannibal. only, with Hannibal, nothing could save her.

[all-the-things-2020]

Late Night Talking - Chapter Three

Summary: Dieter and Emily go on date number two at Venice Beach.

Rating: PG

Notes: I’m writing exclusively from Emily’s POV but will include little transcripts here and there to show Dieter’s perspective. I gave Dieter a brother named Friedrich. They call each other Freddy and Deet.

[Telephone call between Dieter Bravo and his brother Friedrich]

Friedrich: What happened now?

Dieter: Why do you assume something happened? Maybe I’m just calling to hear your amazing voice.

F: Because it’s one o’clock in the fucking morning, Deet.

D: Shit, sorry. It’s only ten here. But Freddy, I have to talk to you. This is big, bro.

F: Work big or personal big?

D: Personal. I think I just met the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.

F: [sighs] Is this going to be like Jonathan?

D: No. Nothing like Jonathan. That was just … I was stupid then. And horny. But Emily — her name is Emily — she’s amazing, Freddy.

F: I’m sure she is, but don’t get ahead of yourself. You always leap without looking.

D: I know but there’s something … we just clicked, you know? Met her in a bookstore and we went to another one for our first date. Couple of drinks, dinner at a tapas place. Nothing fancy but … I haven’t felt this alive since I stopped using.

F: I’m happy for you, Deet, but be careful. Don’t jump into anything. Promise me.

D: I’m gonna marry her.

F: Give it a year. If you still feel the same way, then go for it.

D: A whole year?

F: A whole year. Promise me, Deet.

D: [sighs] I promise. But mark your calendar. I’ll be calling you a year from now to tell you we’re engaged.

F: If you say so. Look, man, I need to get some sleep.

D: Okay, sorry. I just … I had to tell you.

F: I know. Make good choices. Night.

[Call ends]

****************************************************************************

I texted Dieter as soon as I got home and he replied instantly.

Me: Home safe

Dieter: Same here. Had a great time tonight.

Me: So did I

The typing indicator showed up, then disappeared, then showed up again. When it disappeared for a second time, it stayed off. I was puzzled until my phone rang.

”Hello.”

”Hey, I hope you don’t mind but I figured it’s easier to do this talking than texting. I hate texting, anyway.” He chuckled softly.

”It’s fine,” I said. “So, you had a good time?”

”A great time,” he corrected me. “I … look I’m not really that good at this kind of thing. In my line of business you get people fawning all over you and they always want something … it’s hard to trust, you know? But I didn’t get that from you.”

”I know you’re famous and all that, but you’re still just a guy,” I said. “I had that bubble burst a long time ago when one of my friends introduced me to one of the members of a band their Dad knew. I thought it was going to be magical and he turned out to be boring. Literally spent most of the time talking to her Dad about some kind of woodworking tool he’d bought and how he was trying get his son to make a bird house.”

Dieter laughed. “I’m not that boring, I hope.”

”Not at all. But you’re still just a guy. Who happens to make his living pretending to be other people and gets paid obscene amounts of money to do it.”

”Not that obscene,” he said. “At least, not for a while.” He cleared his throat. “Look, before we go any further, I’ve got to be honest with you. I’m kind of fucked up. I mean, more than the usual ‘everybody’s messed up one way or the other’.

“I’ve been in rehab. I was using a lot of shit to escape reality and … I almost died on the set of Cliff Beasts 6. Like literally OD’d and they had to restart my heart. I swore off the hard stuff after that and checked myself in. No more coke, no more acid, no more mystery pills.

”And I connected with my therapist there. She’s amazing and she gets me. So I have rules now. Alcohol if I’m with other people, never when I’m alone. Nothing stronger except this one brand of edibles that mellow me out when I’m super anxious. And I’m on meds to straighten out my brain chemistry. And I have a session with her every week. So, that’s me …”

“I knew about rehab,” I said carefully. “It was on the Internet and gossip magazines. But I didn’t know you almost died. That must have been really scary.”

“Scared the shit out of me,” he said. “There was this girl who worked at the hotel. She’s the one who found me and helped revive me. She professed her love for me in the ambulance and … it lasted about three weeks. I woke up one day and realized ‘Shit, I’m in my forties, and this girl’s in her twenties. What am I doing with my life?’ And I checked into rehab the next day.

“I had to drop out of a couple of projects, and my career was already heading down the crapper anyway — I mean, Cliff Beasts? — so I’m kind of starting over.”

”That’s okay,” I said. “Like I said, you’re just a guy who happens to be an actor. Your job doesn’t have anything to do with why I enjoyed the evening with you. We would have had fun if you were a CPA or a garbage man or whatever.”

“Yeah, and that’s why … I’d really, really like to see you again. Soon.”

”So would I,” I said. “I’m off work for the summer so my schedule is wide open.”

“How about Sunday? I have some shit to take care of tomorrow for a charity. Wait, that didn’t come out right, it’s a charity, it’s not shit …” He sounded a bit flustered. “Sunday. We can go to the beach. Unless that’s too long a drive for you?”

”Traffic shouldn’t be too bad on a weekend. And I haven’t been to the beach for a while. I’d love to.”

”It’s a date then. I’ll … I’ll text you tomorrow what time to meet and where, if that’s okay?”

”That’s perfect,” I said.

”Well, I should let you get to bed. I’m sure you’re tired after listening to me all night and driving and everything.”

”Yeah, you should get some sleep, too. Got to be fresh for the charity shit, right?”

He laughed. “Yeah. Good night.”

”Good night.”

The call ended and I sat on the couch staring at my phone for a few minutes. Then I texted Sam.

*****************************************

We were on the boardwalk at Venice Beach. It was a hot day, so the place was crowded, perfect for people watching.

“Oh, my God, your dog is so cute!” Dieter fairly ran across the boardwalk to a young couple with a Corgi on a leash. It was wearing a bow tie. “Can I take a picture?”

I followed more slowly, ready to apologize to them for my date’s ridiculous behavior, but they were already making the dog pose and look even more adorable, if that was even possible. Dieter snapped a picture of the dog, then shoved his phone at me before getting down on the ground. “Get a picture of me with the dog,” he said. His goofy grin was irresistible. I snapped a couple of pictures of him and the dog, then we chatted a bit with the couple. The dog was a boy, named Kirby, and while he seemed to enjoy the attention, he was a bit aloof, as Corgis often are, until he very solemnly and daintily licked my hand. His owners gushed over how he doesn’t normally like strangers and I should feel special.

“She is special,” Dieter said, giving me a squeeze.

They awkwardly asked for an autograph and a selfie. Dieter obliged, with me taking the photo for them. We said goodbye, and Dieter wistfully watched them walk away. “Now that made my day,” he said.

I arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re on a date with me and meeting a dog is the highlight of your day?” I teased.

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” he blustered.”Like, the dog is the icing on the cake. You’re the cake.”

“Come again?”

He scrunched up his face. “It’s like … okay, icing is nice, icing is great, but by itself it’s kind of gross. Too sweet. You need the cake to give it meaning. The cake is the foundation. The icing is optional but the cake is essential.” He shook his head. “I’m not explaining this right.”

I grabbed his hand. “I think I can see the sentiment behind this rather tortured metaphor,” I said. “Cake is good even by itself; icing enhances it but you don’t really need it.”

“Exactly,” he said, raising our joined hands to his mouth. He kissed the back of my hand. “This would have been a great day even without the dog, but the dog made it even better.”

“I’m only letting this go because it was a Corgi,” I told him. “Any other breed and I’d be insulted, but damn, Corgis are adorable.”

He laughed and put his arms around me, pulling me in for a kiss. A skateboarder zipped past. “Get a room, boomers,” he yelled.

“Hey, we’re Gen X,” Dieter yelled back. “We don’t give a shit!”

“You are such a dork,” I said, laughing into his chest as he flipped the kid off.

“Ah, you love it,” he said.

“I do,” I admitted. “You’re ... adorkable.”

“Now who’s making shit up?”

“Shut up and kiss me again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

****************************

“Let’s go in the water,” Dieter said, tugging at my hand and leading me off the boardwalk and into the sand.

“We don’t have bathing suits,” I protested. I stopped to take off my flip-flops; it was nearly impossible to walk in sand with them on without tripping over my own feet. Dieter pulled his own shoes off as well, and we continued across the beach, shoes in one hand, holding hands with the other.

“We’ll just get our feet wet,” he promised. “Come on.” He whined like a little kid who wanted candy. “Pleeeease.”

I laughed. How could I resist him when he was such a goofball? “Okay, but not too deep,” I said, realizing I sounded like a mom. “I’m not getting all wet and then having to sit around in soggy shorts the rest of the day.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise,” he said, but there was a wicked gleam in his eye that I didn’t quite trust.

We waded out into the water, letting it lap against our ankles, the occasional wave breaking harder and splashing us up to our knees. “Next time, we’ll wear our swimsuits,” he said. “Bring a boogie board or something.”

“I can’t swim,” I admitted. He stopped dead, staring at me.

“What?!,” he said incredulously. “You grew up in SoCal and never learned to swim? How is this possible?”

I was embarrassed, but decided to tell him the truth. “I have a phobia about water,” I said. “If my face gets in the water, I panic. I failed swimming in high school, the only F I ever got on my report card.”

“Well,” he said, “we’ll have to fix that. Lucky for you, I have a pool at my place, and I’m a very good teacher.” He slid his arms around my waist. “Do you need to get out of the water right now?”

“No,” I said. “This is fine. This is fun. It’s just when the water gets on or around my face.”

“Okay, then,” he grinned. “Let’s play some more.” He darted off down the beach, splashing water behind him as he ran through the surf. I gave chase, laughing as I tried to catch up. He was a total goofball, but he was my goofball.

*****************************

I was pretty sure I had a sunburn. We’d been good and applied sunblock before we got out of the cars, and reapplied later, but I could still feel the heat on my skin. “Ooh, shave ice!” I cried as we came around a corner. It was a very hot day and nothing is better on a hot day than a shave ice.

We bought two large shave ices, cherry for me, and a multi-hued mixture of flavors for Dieter. “You’re boring,” he said, pointing at my solid red treat with his plastic spoon.

“Not boring,” I said. “Classic.” I took a big bite and savored the sweet, cold ice as it melted on my tongue.

He shook his head and dug into his own ice, as we sat on a bench facing the ocean. The on shore breeze kept the heat from being overwhelming and the shave ice cooled me off quickly.

“Ah, shit, brain freeze!” Dieter said, holding a hand against his forehead.

“Don’t eat it so fast, doofus,” I said, poking him in the side with my elbow.

He stuck his tongue out at me. It was dyed a dark purplish color from the combination of flavors. “Gross,” I said. “See, that’s why I go with the cherry.” I stuck my own tongue out, knowing it would be a bright red.

“Well, you certainly don’t need lipstick,” he said, pulling out his phone and taking a quick photo, which he showed me. My lips were cherry red.

“Ah, you’ve discovered my cunning plot to replace makeup with shave ice syrup,” I said. He leaned in for a kiss.

“Mmm,” he said. “It tastes better than lipstick, I’ll give you that.”

I shoved him away. “You’re so weird,” I said. “Eat your shave ice before it melts.”

“You’re so bossy,” he grumbled, as he shoveled another spoonful of ice into his mouth.

“I work with teenagers,” I reminded him. “I think I can handle your sorry ass.” I took a big bite of my own shave ice, but instantly regretted it. “Ow, ow, brain freeze!”

Dieter nearly fell off the bench laughing, and I joined him, as soon as my head stopped pounding.

***********************************

The sun was low in the sky as we made our way toward the parking lot. “Next time we’ll get here later, rent bikes, and stay to watch the sunset,” Dieter said. His arm was around my waist, his sunglasses sliding down his nose as he gazed down at me.

“That sounds wonderful,” I replied. “But how about our next date, you drive out my way?”

He scratched his chin with his free hand. “I guess I could,” he said. “Is there anything out there to do?”

”I hope you’re being facetious,” I told him. “Because only I can diss where I live.”

He chuckled. “Totally facetious. Besides, as long as I’m with you, who cares where we go?”

”Smooth, Bravo, real smooth.” I tugged his arm, pulling him to a stop. I went on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek, in one of those delectable little bare patches in his beard.

”It worked,didn’t it?” he said smugly.

[aris-ink]

I'm so tired of hearing everyone being pressed about that tea blog, even right now I'm getting dms. it's an honest place that provides receipts and warns readers which content creators to stay away from? the person who runs the blog and the anons there talk about tremendously important things, and only encourage action bullying and harassment for real offenses that people deserve to hear about.

like for example:

sexualising santa by writing christmas fics

including corruption kink in fics. (especially if you're someone who slept around. us sluts have to stop hurting innocent women by writing fanfiction 😔)

having fun with astrology (don't you know that's the devil's tool, you zodiac freaks?)

having a kofi. what's wrong with you? so you tell me you spend hours writing and editing and you dare to suggest someone gives you a tip for it? 😭

being upset about not getting enough engagement. clearly you're just untalented and bitter, darling. 💖

other readers enjoying things they don't. (that's just going too far.)

being religious and liking bts/expressing sexuality. um, don't you know if you believe in God you should be on your knees in church looking at Jesus instead of Jungkook's abs? 🤨 in fact, you should be on your way to becoming a nun, so...

writing yandere fics.

this is all so true. hey, anyone here ever read or watched twilight? oh? I hope you didn't, because we all know fiction equals reality so..... I'd be really concerned for the local morgues.

AHSHDHDHDDH anyways, now that I'm done with the sarcasm, as always, please give me a break. I've reached the image limit but I'm sorry. making fun of authors for how they write, encouraging our works to be reported, making fun of authors with kofis or who express their feelings towards little engagement.... telling a Muslim woman that she cannot be Muslim and write her fics (the fucking audacity), then making fun of her for getting stalked. treating people who enjoy/write fics that include sex and aren't "pure" as less and depraved. accusing writers of sending asks to themselves when they get a nice message. twisting their words. this behavior is absolutely disgusting, but besides that it's so lacking in logic and critical thinking skills that it's just sad, and this is who is getting you down, guys? 😭

you're wonderful, keep doing you, and let these amazing little anons and blog runner keep doing them. 🤷‍♀️ YOU know who you are, your followers know who you are, and it doesn't matter what a bunch of bullies have to say. I personally don't care either. what they gonna do? report my fics? I got enough followers to get around, they're enough for me. send me a rude message? oh no, anything but that.

😭💀 sending lots of love to anyone who ever felt alone and targeted. I promise you, literally no one who is worth your time cares. ❤️

[em-dash-press]

How to Write Metaphors

Making your story stand out to readers requires vivid descriptions. You have to weave senses and emotions into scenes, which might mean using a few well-placed metaphors. 

Here are a few tips to help you understand why metaphors exist, their purposes, and how to write them more effectively

What Is a Metaphor?

A metaphor is a figure of speech that makes one idea more clear by associating or explaining it with other object or idea.

When someone does something sweet or thoughtful, their friend might say, “Aren’t you a peach!” They’re not saying that person is a literal peach. They’re complimenting their kindness by comparing it to a super sweet fruit. It creates a more vivid picture and can be more flattering than saying, “That was so nice of you.”

Metaphors also lend a more conversational tone. You wouldn’t find metaphors in professional documentation because it’s supposed to be authoritative and serious. Metaphors make a conversation less serious by making lighthearted or silly comparisons.

How to Write Metaphors

Anyone can write or create metaphors by keeping these three tips in mind.

1. For Visual Help: The Extended Metaphor

Extended metaphors last longer than a single sentence or phrase. They often appear when someone is trying to make their anxiety clear to someone else or raise the tension in a story.

Example: “You will never do that again,” she roared, swiping at him until there was enough space for her to leap on her prey. The woman isn’t literally a predator animal like a panther or bear, but the metaphor makes her anger seem stronger or more powerful by rooting it in an animalistic sense of survival.

2. For Humor: The Mixed Metaphor

You can also write a mixed metaphor to lighten a situation or wield your sense of humor in a story. They take readers by surprise, which might be exactly what a scene calls for.

Example: “This isn’t going to be easy,” Anthony said. “You know what they say,” Irvin replied, “when the rubber meets the road, we have to bite a bullet.” Anthony laughed. “That’s literally not what anyone says.” “Whatever—you know what I mean.”

3. For Practice: The Dead Metaphor

Writers consider any overused metaphor a dead metaphor. The idea is to avoid using them because creating something new is more interesting. It’s also a sign that you’re a more skilled writer.

Examples: When the ghost appeared, Amy’s face turned snow white. “Stop repeating yourself,” he said. “You’re a broken record.” Xander would rather kick the bucket than take Friday’s exams.

Why Are Metaphors Important?

Why use metaphors at all? I’d guess you’re already unknowingly putting them in your stories, but let’s talk about a few reasons why many writers use them on purpose.

Metaphors Engage the Senses

If someone says talking with their boss is like voluntarily bashing their head into a wall, you can feel the pain in your head and the groaning urger to do anything other than that. It’s more descriptive than saying someone hates talking to their boss, so it’s more engaging.

Remember, metaphors aren’t the only way to write with your primary senses. You shouldn’t rely on metaphors to do all of your descriptions. However, they’re helpful when you want to switch up your narrative style occasionally.

Metaphors Replace Similies

It’s easy to confuse similies and metaphors, but they’re two very different narrative tools that can make your stories better. Describing things in numerous ways demonstrates your expert control of your craft.

Similies compare two things using “like” or “as.” Metaphors claim something as another thing without those words.

Examples: Simile: When I kissed her, her heart beat as loud as a drum. Metaphor: When I kissed her, the drumbeat of her heart filled my ears. Simile: The kids act like crazed animals once family game night gets competitive. Metaphor: Our house turns into a zoo when family game night gets competitive. Simile: His presence in my life is like a light in the darkness. Metaphor: He’s a light in the dark.

Practice Using Metaphors

Anyone can write using metaphors and make their stories more engaging or descriptive. Sometimes you might also write a metaphor that your readers don’t understand.

That’s okay. It happens all the time.

The point is for your metaphors to make sense to you and serve a descriptive purpose in a sentence or scene. Avoid the overused ones and you’ll become an expert in no time.

[ticklishprincey]

Hazbin Hotel Tickle Headcannons

Second course anyone? (Part two) Nifty -110% ler -Isn't ticklish at all -Does not know the meaning of the word stop -Does not know when to stop -Literally has to be pulled away from her lee -Aftercare does not exist with this little shit -The most you'll get is maybe a headpat -Will target anyone and everyone Vox -Switchy switchy switch -Ruthless ler -Main targets are the Vees or Alastor -Knows when to stop but likes to push his lee a bit farther just to break them -Has a safe word established with Velvette only -He has made devices for tickling purposes and I will die on this hill -Responds to cursing lees with "Oh, we're going that route? Fine by me, I've got all day." [proceeds to wreck said lee] -Very good with aftercare, he'll get his lee water, a snack, a blanket and if he's close enough with them he'll cuddle them while they watch a movie -Surprisingly ticklish -Worst spots are his hips and thighs -Melt spot is his antennae -Very easy to fluster -Can't stand hearing the t-word -Main lers are Valentino and Alastor -Gets the wORST lee moods imaginable -Would rather break his own screen than ask to be tickled -Will blue screen if he gets too riled up -Starts to glitch when he's had his fill or if you fluster him too much Valentino -Ler 100% -I hate him BUT -He most definitely tickles the shit out of Vox change my mind YOU CAN'T -Not ticklish and rubs it in Vox's and Velvette's faces cause he's a cocky little bitch boy -Not REALLY good with aftercare but still gets his lee water and maybe cuddles Velvette -Ler-leaning switch -Likes being on both ends -Main target is Vox but will target Val if he's being too obnoxious -Likes to tease -Laughs along with her lee -Queen of raspberries and tickle bites -Definitely calls Vox in for a "fitting" just as an excuse to tickle him -Aftercare with her is usually her putting on America's Next Top Model and cuddling her lee -Only lets Vox tickle her without being seriously injured -Worst spot is under her arms but neck is a close second -Melt spot is behind her ears -Vox tickles her when she's stressed out or just because he can -Cannot handle teasing whatsoever but loves it at the same time -Tell her how much it's gonna tickle and she will simply pass away Adam -Ler-leaning switch -DEVIOUS LER -Definitely uses his wings as tickle tools -Loves to play the rib-counting game -"I'm missing a rib, mind if I take one of yours?" [proceeds to nibble on lee's ribs] -Main targets are Lute and Lucifer (I headcannon they made up/don't entirely hate each other let me live dammit) -LOVE LOVE LOVES to tease -"I'm gonnaaaaaa getcha getcha getcha! Tickle tickle tickle!" -Likes to build up anticipation before he even starts -Like wiggling his fingers right over a spot and laughing at the lee's reactions -Really good with aftercare, he'll hold his lee while he makes them a snack and play with their hair -CANNOT take what he dishes out -Insanely ticklish like it's bad -Worst spot is right where his rib is missing, he will scream bloody murder -Melt spots are his wings -Main ler is Lucifer but Lute joins in every now and then -Gets super bad lee moods but will not ask to save his afterlife -Luckily he's super obvious about it -Will instigate a tickle fight just to get wrecked after Lute -Not that ticklish but still enough to be a target -Will indulge Adam in both his ler and lee moods -Doesn't really engage in teasing but she'll make comments that are teasing enough for Adam -"Oh wow, you're really ticklish, God must've had a field day making you." -Aftercare consists of a glass of water with a few headpats -Not super ticklish like I said but if you know her well enough you can get her laughing -Not easy to fluster by any means -Worst spot is her back, Adam likes to run his nails up and down her spine and she loves hates it -Doesn't really have a melt spot but her favorite spot is behind her knees -Main (and only) ler is Adam -Will kill anyone else without hesitation or remorse

[fanficapologist]

Hey!! So while I already know Aemond was taken to the Street of Silk at thirteen, it must have been unpleasant. He was forcefully introduced to sex, and I think he also got to come to terms with his attraction to Maera a little too soon. I mean, I’d like to think their relationship would have gone down the romance road even if Aemond was rather icy after he lost his eye, but he and Maera are kindred sprits. And at thirteen, I imagine it must have been confusing and he must have felt disgusted with himself perhaps?

I mean I’ve never experienced anything like Aemond but as a woman, even an unwanted touch on my arm makes my skin crawl. So I can’t imagine what it must have been like for him.

And while not everyone has Aegon’s sexual appetite, I’d like to think that experience contributed to why Aemond only engaged with servants. Well besides the fact that they’re convenient but because he has power over them.

Also, I did notice this bit:

When his peak would hit, he would climax into his hand or onto their backs, for his seed was sacred, a tool of House Targaryen, and would be used to father many of his heirs. No whore or mere maid was worthy of such a thing.

Can’t help but think it is significant to the plot and when he does give Alys his seed. Because ironically, he treasures it but he was willing to provide it to Alys, one he doesn’t have romantic feelings for. But then again, we all knew what she did with it, so I imagine he thought it was a fair exchange, much like his dragon.

Soo it seems stay tuned is the word of the day hahaha 😆

I have a question! How far will Aemond’s POV go? 😀 I’m curious if we’ll get to see their first meeting again and make it like chronological until he meets Alys or will you go straight for the jugular?

Alsoo, how many more chapters will we see Alys? 😆 please let be humbled by Maera again hahaha

Hope you’re enjoying your week so far!!

Hello my dear 🖤

I think his little crush with Maera was so sweet and innocent and cute as it should’ve been for, you know, a fucking nine year-old. And then his experience at thirteen has just completely destroyed his innocence and literally altered his fucking brain on how he looks at the world, particularly how he views relationships, especially with women 😣

Definitely with the servants it’s for a power dynamic. I can’t imagine how powerless he must’ve felt in that brothel, poor boy 🥺

Stay tuned is the phrase of the week 🤣 so let’s answer some of these questions; in terms of Aemond’s POV we’ll go chronologically. I’m only providing his chapters on key elements of the story, first meeting with Maera again, meeting Alys etc.

I’m returning to original ODAM this week…so maybe two or three more of Alys. Then she’ll make some appearances in Aemond POV as well. Don’t worry I’m sick of her as well 🖤