#this is not being sorted. bc they dont know how to speak to other office people

[cowb0ycrime]

.

[f1nalboys]

thinking about priest!sinclair brothers...

warning for priest fuckery (obviously), perverting the catholic faith (my bad), corrupting priests, being corrupted by priests, sacreligious shit, spiritual bdsm of sorts, and all the weird icky stuff that comes with me talking about fucking priests. you know. also warning bc i know fuck all about the actual ins and outs of priesthood so... dont be on my dick please <3

priest!lester is the priest you accidentally corrupt. youre in the confessional and youre spilling your sins and hes on the other side of the lattice biting at his lip trying not to imagine all the filthy things you talk about happening to him. you talk about your crush on a priest there, how you touch yourself to the thought of him sometimes, how you know its wrong but you just cant help but work yourself over to the thought of this holy man fucking you until it hurt and lester cums in his pants, his hand over his mouth to keep quiet. he had already been questioning his faith but now he knows hes in the right path; the two of you need each other. you need to be cleansed and he does too, and he knows that together you both will find the light and do just that even if there are some bumps along the way.

priest!vincent is the priest that you are corrupting without even meaning to. he knows what his supposed goal is but then he meets you and leading you to gods light is the last thing on his mind. he wants you. he wants to worship you, not God. he wants to get down on his knees in front of you, look up into your patient and kind eyes, and admit all his transgressions. he is willing to take whatever punishment you give him because he knows salvation lies inbetween your legs and if he holds on just a little longer, if he speaks to you softly, if his touches are soft and quick, you'd be willing to give him that. you'd be willing to allow him to touch you and to worship you and to treat you like a god if he asked sweetly. you might think hes attentive to the rest of the congregation but he isn't. he could close his eyes and pick you out from your scent alone and thats how he knows that he was meant to be your worshipper, your devotee.

priest!bo is the priest that knows hes corrupting you and he loves it. he knows youre a lost member of the flock, that when you came to his small and private office to ask him to speak to you that you were looking to be lead back into the light of gods embrace. he knows that. but he doesnt care. what he cares about is how sweet and innocent you look and how he wants to crush that under his boot. so he tells you that the only way for god to forgive you, really forgive you, is if you listen to every word bo tells you. even when its scary, even when its confusing, even when its innapropriate. when bo tells you to kneel in front of him hes doing it to set you on the right path. when he tells you to take his cock hes doing it to cleanse you from the inside out. when he tells you that you'll have to come back again and again and again until you begin to crave him when youre not there hes doing it because he knows its the only way for god to forgive you. and eventually, one faithful night, he'll get you to admit that you think of him as god and he'll smile, lean down with his hand tilting your head up, and he'll tell you that he is god and that youre the first member of his congregation.

[kamii-2]

Maybe a Curtis sister (younger than Ponyboy) always getting herself into some trouble.

Like idk maybe one day she gets into a fist fight at school and Darry’s gotta come pick her up from school because of it and he’s pissed/disappointed. But turns out she had a good reason for fighting

hi anon, this one is a bit short (i’m so sorry) but i still hope you enjoy!! i’m making this in third person omniscient and curtis sister is her own character

warnings: cussing, punching, blood, crying, yelling (?), homophobia

pairings: darry x curtis sister

genre: angst and fluff

not proofread 💪

so ive decided (with the help on a friend) that curtis sisters name is nova melanie curtis and her nickname is honey, also since this is curtis sister, she is gonna be sodas age bc they’re twins

==================================

nova was at her locker getting stuff for 3rd hour. she was getting ready to shut her locker when someone came up next to her. “hey nova,” the girl said to her. “hey, do i know you?” nova said while squinting slightly. “no, but i know you.” the girl said with a smirk, nova got a bad feeling from this girl. she didn’t know why but she did not want to be by her any longer. she closed her locker and walked to class. the girl followed her, “come back, we need to talk” nova side eyed her and said, “no we dont.” nova started to walk faster, the girl did the same and got in front of her to cut her off.

“cmon nova, just listen to me” she girl insisted, trying to contain a smirk. “what do you want” nova said as she sighed in defeat. “i heard some rumors about you, saying you were a dyke and wanted to know if they were true” nova froze up and her eyes went wide. she didn’t tell anybody about her being gay. i mean she was constantly checking out girls but she didn’t think anybody would notice. “what? no, i’m not gay” nova said trying to act as normal as possible. “well that’s not what susan told me.” the other girl responded. “susan is delusional,” nova said while walking around the girl. “stupid dyke stop walk away from me!” the girl said as she grabbed nova. nova spun around and punched the girl so hard she fell, the girl screamed as novas fist hit her face. nova immediately ran to the bathroom, washing the blood off her knuckles.

—

nova was currently in the office waiting for darry to come pick her up. she was sort of nervous for the outcome of this whole situation, she had no idea how darry would react.

after about 5 more minutes of waiting, darry came and he was angry. he told nova to go to the car and she just knew it was gonna be bad. she went to the car and thought about what she was gonna tell him. she didn’t think the reason she punched a girl so hard she fell and started to bleed was good enough, especially to darry. she thought about she would have to come out to him. she was extremely nervous. darry came out of the school, he was mad. he got in the car and tried to calm himself down before he talked to you, which didn’t work. “why the fuck would you punch someone? now you’re suspended.” darry yelled as he started the car. nova didn’t know what to say, she was scared to tell him why she punched her. she didn’t want to come out.

darry got more and more angry the longer he waited for her to answer. nova sighed and started to speak, “she was messing with me.” nova said in a whisper, she had tears in her eyes. “that is not a good reason to almost break someone’s nose.” darry replied, trying hard to not yell. “yes the fuck it is darry.” nova said slightly raising her voice, darry drove to the side of the road and parked the car. “who the fuck are you talking to like that?” he questioned nova, “you, darry, you! you don’t even know what really happened and you’re yelling at me and expect me to not yell back. please just drive home and we can talk about there.” nova answered, she knew she had to come out to him now. “what’s the fucking full story? i’ll start the car when you tell the story” he said while leaning back on the seat and getting comfortable. “i’ll speak when you start the car and go home” nova replied while leaning back with him and looking him dead in the eyes.

they stayed like that for about 2 minutes before darry gave up and started the car and went home. nova was still nervous, she was thinking of all the ways he could react to her coming out. he could kick her out, hit her, or worse. the rest of the car ride was silent, but darry was still fuming with anger.

once they got home, nova immediately got out and went inside to sit on the couch, she was on the verge of tears. darry walked in a little bit after her, “so, what’s the fully story?” darry said in an angry tone. nova was too scared to speak, if she were to open her mouth then she might cry. “the reason i punched the girl was because she was being homophobic to me, someone told her i was gay and she was calling me a dyke and grabbing me and bothering me.” darry stayed quiet after she said that. darry felt bad for yelling at her and making her feel like she can’t tell him anything.

the longer he didn’t answer, the more closer to crying nova got. “nova, i-i’m so sorry. i’m sorry for making you feel like you can’t tell me anything.” he sat next to nova and hugged her as she cried. “it’s okay darry, it’s not your fault. nobody else knows.” nova said while sniffling. they pulled away and darry was kind of tearing up. “how long am i suspended for?” nova asked while wiping her tears. “a week, and you grounded for a week too.” darry responded, standing up to go in the kitchen. “what?” nova exclaimed.

==================================

i really hope you guys enjoy this!! i’m so sorry it came out so late, but have a good day/night, love you all 💋💋

[minustwofingers]

exoplanet post-finale discussion

this is a post that goes over some things that i briefly touched on in the tags/mentions some plot points i wasn't able to expand upon! SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS after the cut. so dont look unless u want it to be spoiled

ok so! i want to first of all start out by thanking everyone reading/the ellie community this for being so patient and wonderful and just lovely in general! writing long fics can be so draining for me, especially when i start making poor plot choices and start writing parts that are over 10k words (i at least have the decency to be ashamed of it). i hope that you all have enjoyed reading p7/the rest of the series. i did want to offer a little more elaboration on some points/why i made some of the plot choices that i did. so spoilers under the cut!

petra

petra's character might seem super random, and it's because she actually used to play a much bigger role in this story. my original outline included petra actually coming back to jackson as well as a few cutscenes away to her time working at a bourbon plant in kentucky, detailing exactly how the goods were contaminated/how they actually got past quality control. i cut these scenes bc i was like literally no one came to read about this random oc.

how did terranova get infected (in other words: what petra's story would've told)

she used to have a monologue talking about how everyone in the plants—even the commanding officers—were frustrated with the poor conditions and managed to infect weaker members, tie them up, and drop their saliva into the vats of aging bourbon. this slipped past quality control because you'll recall that 1) the prices were skyrocketing in terranova and 2) there was a festival that involved hella drinking. petra was supposed to explain that since the prices of liquor were so high and quality control could be overly cautious, flagged bottles were smuggled off by guards and sold in a black market. so that's why it was so fast/why it got through the borders!

why didnt u write a smut scene between ellie and y/n smh

i honestly planned to—i had a whole scene where y/n has her little top moment, but i just couldnt integrate it into the last final scenes. to me it just felt too much for ellie to be like yes im opening up 2 u emotionally....now lets fuck in the span of like 20 mins when they hadn't been speaking beforehand. and also i think it speaks to how ellie kind of used sex to put distance between them in the first few parts and tried to avoid any sort of emotional intimacy, so this was a big step for her. also if i were y/n id be sleepy as hellllll at that point and would not have the wrist stamina for any sort of activities that didn't involve tucking into bed after the day she's had!

what next?

so of course there's the epilogue, but that doesn't have to be all. i was thinking of writing an alternate ending that adheres more firmly to tlou 2 canon and involves joel's death + ellie's spiral, where y/n actually chooses to leave terranova with dina to try to find her once she hears from her father about a girl with a fern tattoo that's causing a disturbance just a bit south of terranova. i didn't want that to be the actually legit ending, because i do think it's important for ellie's conscience to know that she's not keeping y/n from somewhere safer.

so in conc: epilogue for sure, maybe an alternate ending, and potentially a few "deleted scenes" (including the smut scene i cut)

why did you choose to do that to terranova instead of having ellie find her or y/n leave?

ellie was never going to terranova to get y/n because she'd never try to take her from there unless she had a genuine belief that she'd be better off outside. so i suppose that there could've been a storyline about ellie finding out about terranova possibly getting infected, but idk how she would know that when communication is so private and tommy wasn't even able to get in contact with any terranovan authorities with his connections.

i didn't go with my alternate ending idea where y/n actually chooses to leave, partly because of ellie and mostly because i felt like terranova needed to get blown up anyway. i was hoping that part of the message i sent with this was that overconsumption is never sustainable and that it will always have consequences, and terranova falling apart because of and not in spite of its resources and suppliers seemed like a good way to get the job done!

this may not be something anyone is particularly interested in but if you have any questions about any things i didn't cover in the finale, feel free to ask ! now that the actual plot is mostly complete and i can't really spoil anything, i have a lot more flexibility with answering things!

[maastrash]

Fighting Fire with Froyo

oh my goodness hello friends plz dont roast my title bc @verryberriess already has LOL it is ✨quirky✨ anyways the first fic back is always rough to write and i got tired of editing so without further ado ... 

Nesta pried the uniform hat off her head and wiped the dripping sweat from her brow. By the cauldron, it was burning up today. It amazed her that the frozen yogurt wasn’t melting right out of the machines. That probably wasn’t even possible, but the heat was making her delirious. Of course on the hottest day of the year something was wrong with the AC. She added calling the maintenance guy to her 5-page long mental list of things to do after her shift today. 

She truly did not have the time to be working on the service line today. The Archeron sister froyo shop had opened almost a year ago and already she was talking to people about expanding it to become a chain. That’s what she should be working on instead.

Nesta supposed she should be happy their little shop was so popular. The sisters had been so nervous when they were finally able to launch their yogurt shop after years of planning. It was a dream come true. 

They named it Archeron Delights and it became one of the most popular dessert places in Velaris. Elain was the mastermind behind the frozen yogurt recipes. People came from all over the country to try their unique flavor combinations. Feyre was in charge of all the interior designing. She remodeled the entire space and made it look modern with colorful signs and trendy photo taking spots - a necessity for kids obsessed with instagram worthy pictures. Nesta was the official manager which meant she dealt with finances, hiring the team, making schedules, and other administrative duties. 

To be honest, Nesta never really worked at the counter, but Morrigan their newest hire, and Feyre’s best friend was sick with the flu. Definitely not a good idea to put her near customers. To make matters worse, the shop had been extremely busy today so she didn’t have time to take any breaks. Unlike her sisters, Nesta was already not the cheeriest service worker. It’s why she worked in the back in her quiet, private office. 

At least she could distract herself by filling out their monthly budget summary while waiting. However, her calculations were soon interrupted by the cheerful bell dinging, meaning the shop door was being opened. Damn another customer. 

Nesta began quickly finishing up the section she was on, “Hi I’ll be with you in one -”

“You need to get out of here,” the customer interrupted. 

Nesta’s smile dropped so fast. Who did this man think he was?

“No, you need to get out,” she snapped back without looking up from her papers. If he was gonna speak to her like that she was gonna take her sweet time. 

“Excuse me I -”

This time Nesta interrupted. “This is my shop and I say you need to leave.”

“Ma’am if you would let me explain -”

“Stop calling me ma'am, you have no right -” This time it was Nesta who trailed off.

She finally looked up to see a man equipped fully in firefighter gear staring right at her. Shit. She just yelled at a fireman. To make matters worse he was handsome. Extremely handsome. 

“There’s a small fire in another location 2 units from yours. We’re containing it, but you still need to evacuate,” the man explained.  

Nesta was still gaping. It seemed she was unable to form words. How was this man so attractive? He was wearing full protective fire gear and wasn’t even breaking a sweat and here she was, literally dripping. 

To be quite honest she couldn’t tell if she was sweating because of the heat or the fireman’s burning gaze. 

“Ma’am can you hear me? Ma’am? Oh for goodness sake.”

Before Nesta knew it she was being lifted off her feet. Literally. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she exclaimed in surprise. 

“Ah so you can still talk.” 

“Put me down you oaf.”

“Oaf?” he raised a brow, “That’s a real nice way to thank the person saving your ass.”

“I’m serious,” she said crossing her arms angrily. 

“Let’s get to safety first.”

Nesta gave the man a withering glare, but he continued to carry her bridal style to a tent where it seemed other shop owners were gathering. 

“Oh my goodness Nesta are you hurt?” Aelin asked as they approached.

Aelin owned a dress boutique in the same plaza and they often grabbed lunch together. She was Nesta’s best friend. 

“No I am being harassed,” she deadpanned. 

“She means saved,” the firefighter corrected as he finally set her down. 

“Woah he’s hot,” Aelin whispered in her ear. 

“Shut up or I’m telling Rowan.”

“Just an observation” Aelin laughed. 

The man gave them a polite smile before heading back towards the rest of the firemen. 

Nesta stopped him before he got too far. “I want to talk to your boss,” she said sternly. 

“You mean the captain?” he asked. 

“Yes.” Obviously. 

“Why do you need the captain ma'am?”

“Stop with the ma’am, I’m serious.”

“Ok fine. What’s your name?” 

Nesta stayed silent. 

“Ok then, sweetheart. Why do you need the captain?”

Nesta growled at his stupidity. “I am not your sweetheart and I am reporting you for inappropriate behavior.”

Something like amusement crossed his face, but it quickly vanished, “I see. I’ll be right back then.”

For someone about to lose his job he did not seem the least bit frightened. 

***

It was only a few minutes before the man returned. He was still wearing his fire pants or whatever they were called, but the protective jacket was gone. Now he wore a tight shirt that read Velaris Fire Dept. It framed his muscles a little too perfectly for her taste. How was this man real?

“The captain is busy at the moment but I will take your complaint and hand it to him myself,” he said, pulling out a pen and paper.

“How do I know you’re not going to rip it up as soon as I leave?”

“You can watch me hand it to him once we have this mess sorted out,” he assured her. 

“Fine.”

“First I will need your name.”

“Nesta Archeron” she grit out.

“Nesta. I like how that sounds.”

She rolled her eyes. This man was absolutely insufferable. 

“Ok, now your phone number.”

“Why do you need my phone number?” 

“So the captain can contact you about this issue, of course.”

She grabbed the paper from his massive hands and scribbled her number down quickly.

“Ok and what are you complaining about?” he asked, clearly amused.

She rolled her eyes, “You already know what I’m complaining about.”

“Well, I need to write it down word for word,” he said, laughing softly.  

His laughter was the last straw. “You know what this is ridiculous I’m going to find the captain myself,” she said, stomping off. 

“That’s gonna be hard to do sweetheart,” he called after her. 

“Oh yea, why?” she yelled back over her shoulder.

“Because I am the captain.”

That stopped Nesta dead in her tracks. She turned slowly to see the big oaf smiling. 

“Cassian Nazari, Captain of Station 17,” he said, extending his hand.

“Are you playing a game or something?” she scowled, slapping his hand away.  

“No,” he chuckled softly, “Just doing my job.” 

“By pretending to not be the captain and stealing my information?”

He smiled again and half of her wanted to slap him, but the other half was tempted to kiss him. What was wrong with her?

“I take complaints seriously. So seriously, that I would like to hear all about your complaint over dinner.”

“This is not funny,” she said crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Don’t tell me you’re not interested. You took one look at me and were absolutely speechless. I literally had to carry you out before you burned to death.”

“The fire was contained, evacuating was a formality you brute.” 

“If you say so,” he said sarcasm lacing every word. “I’ll pick you up from your shop at 6.”

Nesta’s jaw dropped, the audacity of this man was astounding. She paused before answering, debating her options. She figured she could either continue pretending to hate him or just give in. Gods above, was she actually considering this?

“Say yes you idiot” Aelin whispered.

Nesta flinched in surprise. Where the hell did she even come from? 

“Are you kidding I’m not going anywhere in this.” Nesta argued, gesturing to her work apron and leggings. 

“I think it looks great,” Cassian said with a wink. 

“Me too,” Aelin added.

Nesta gave Aelin a deadly look before saying, “Let’s meet at the Sidra at 7. That way I have time to change.”

Cassian only looked surprised at her suggestion for a second before agreeing, “Ok, I’ll see you there.” 

He waved before heading back to the rest of his crew and Nesta against her better judgement waved back. 

“Nesta Archeron, are you smiling?” Aelin teased as soon as Cassian was out of ear shot.

“Shut up. I am absolutely not,” she said, quickly bringing her face back to neutral. 

And then it hit her...

She was going to dinner with Cassian - a fire captain she just met. What the hell was she thinking? 

tags! @illyriangarbage // @court-of-fuck-me-daddy // @girlnovels // @julesherondalex // @ifangirlninja // @dreamerforever-5 // @queen-of-wings-and-fire // @rhysanoodle // @jemma-nessian-and-elriel // @books-and-words-addict  // @nightinshadow // @wolffrising // @the-regal-warrior // @dreamingofalba // @abillionlittlepieces // @alitzeldiaz // @kylizzles // @queenmaas // @illyrian-bookworm // @aspillofstars // @b00kworm // @tswaney17 // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn // // @perseusannabeth // @acourtofmarauders // @sweetlyvillainous // @awesomelena555 // @notyournymphetish // @ladywitchling // @aesthetics-11 // @sjmships // @iammissstark // @illyrianwitchling13 // @moondancer-204 // @sjm-things // @foolsinlovex // @sayosdreams // @welcometothespeaknowworldtour  // @stardelia // @julemmaes // @thewayshedreamed // @texas-shaped-waffle-maker // @keshavomit // @superspiritfestival // @wannawriteyouabook // @verryberriess // @courtofjurdan // @bookstantrash // @sannelovesreading // @ahappyhistorianreader // @cass-nes // @my-fan-side // @junsuichow // @sleeping-and-books // @yumna402 // @lordof-bloodshed // @emcarstairs578 // @gisellefigue08 // @maybekindasortaace // @starborn-faerie-queen // @empire-of-wildfire // @loveofbooksandwine // @sanakapoor // @silentquartz // @a-omgnaomithings-love // @aimee1602 // @jlinez // @creamcheesechicken // @steamedlattes // @sahsahprova // @elriel4life // @ireallyshouldsleeprnrn // @rowaelinismyotp // @thegoddessofyou​

[blxetsi]

modern hange zoe dating headcanons

lowercase intended !

hange zoe x gn!reader

- first, their love language is definitely a mix of physical touch and verbal affirmations

- idc idc theyre the best of both worlds 🤩

- you prefer verbal affirmations over physical touch (or vice versa) ? their immediately making a mental note and showing u love with whichever one u like more

- i think they'd be a scientist or researcher ?? maybe they'd study the human body or like global warming ?? idfk but would definitely go into the science field

- also i personally love the idea of moblit and them being together 😳🤚 idk i love the idea

- but since YOU are with miss hange id like to think they stayed friends after the breakup 😌✨ theyre both mature ppl (and hot)

- moblit is always third wheeling w you guys. you and hange could be making out and he'd sit there with his iced coffee like 😐

- hange i feel is a very forgetful person, so like, dates and stuff (things made on a sort of short notice) they tend to forget about, but things like birthdays and anniversaries are NEVER forgotten

- ofc they'll make it up to you after you call them from the restaurant youve been waiting in for over an hour

- but sometimes it does hurt that they value their work so much, you love that they find joy in what they do and are dedicated, but it just feels like they prioritize work over you

- and hange understands ! and they start trying to be on time for things like that. is also constantly reassuring you at random times that they love and care about you

- also loves to spoon you. will literally wrap around you like a koala in bed. doesnt matter if its too hot and youre both immediately sweating, will trap you with their insane amount of strength and never let you go until either they wake up or you wake up begging to use the restroom

- i feel like when theyre working from home (which is everyday in a pandemic 🙄 even tho these headcanons arent really structured around pandemic modern times) they forget to eat/drink when they get reeeaaaallllyyyy into what theyre researching

- could be on the verge of discovering a new genetic mutation (idk) while also being on the verge of passing out due to dehydration

- theyll come out for dinner and be like "yknow ive been having this weird headache all day"

- "probably because you havent drank any water today"

- will stare at you like "🤨" before replying "nah i dont think so 😹"

- you have to threaten letting them starve to get them to drink some water. and as soon as they do theyre chugging three cups

- five minutes later theyre like "babe ! it worked ! youre awesome"

- lots of pet names like babe/baby, my love, my darling (in a dramatic english accent), honey, and any others that youd prefer

- has a weird love for the cartoon archer (yknow that adult show with like 10 seaons ??)

- will literally no nothing about the plot or characters, and will only put the show on for background noise while theyre doing something, but will ALWAYS recommend archer to others and say its their favourite cartoon if asked

- also loves the amazing world of gumball (you got them into it) actually watches the show and loves it, yet never thinks of it when asked "what shows should i watch ?" or "what are some shows you like ?"

- if youre like, an artist or something like that, they genuinely LOVE anything you make

- you made them a little painting ? theyre hanging it up in their apartment. you created a clay vase or something ? buying flowers to put in it rn (doesnt even take care of the flowers but yk)

- if youre having a bad day theyre dropping everything for you (unless its super important then theyre saying "how about i move my work to the bed and we can cuddle ?")

- if you need to rant theyre actively listening while trying to work. will accidentally start typing what youre saying onto their word document. ends up having to delete three whole paragraphs about that bitch at work smh 🙄🤚

- loves taking showers/ baths w you (NEVER in a sexual way though) they genuinely find it fun to wash each other's hair and stuff. if you ask them to wash your back theyre shoving their hands in your armpits and tickling you like,, mf ill fall and take us both down 😐

- definitely an ass/thighs person. doesnt matter how big or small, loves it.

- also a dish collector in their room. their room and office are in the same space, so youll find them with cups and plates on their desk where their research is supposed to be like bae,,, i think youre growing a new kind of mold 😍🦠💥

- talks so passionately abt their work and coworkers to you. theres this new intern at their job and hes the sweetest and brightest kid they know. his names armin and they speak about him SO highly

- also has a really cold nose ?? u love to kiss it bc it makes them shiver bc of the temperature difference

- has weirdly soft hands. youd think theyd be kinda rough bc of all the weird shit they touch for "science" but no. the hands are perfect

- doesnt know how to take care of things around the house (like handy stuff) so they beg levi to come over.

- he reluctantly does bc hes their friend but will nod at you as soon as he walks in and says "i hope hange isnt being too annoying today"

- immediately youll defend them and say zoe hange could never annoy you bc hange is the love of ur life and all he'll do is say "youre lucky then. i envy you."

- you and hange both know hes using his dry humour, but as punishment hange follows him around the place and annoys him even further

- also tries to convince you to get a dog at the weirdest of times ???

- itll be three in the morning and theyll just whisper in your ear "we should get a dog"

- theyre allergic to cats so if you suggest that they say "no ill die if i go near one"

- if youre allergic to dogs theyll say "okay fine a baby then"

- "how will we get one ?"

- "we'll steal it. or go looking through a dumpster"

- what did they say 😳😳⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️

- you shut down any ideas of a dog or baby for a long while after that

- loves squeezing your cheeks, and would love if you did it to them too

- will literally just sit in bed squishing them and request you do the same. so you both just sit facing each other criss crossed, squishing each others faces while giggling

- ive made this pretty long already so this is it ! but yes, they love u through and through

a/n

second headcanon babyyy !!! hope u all enjoyed !! my asks r open if u wanna request something !! (also please request something 😭😭😭 )

[cloudy-dayys]

obsessed w ur clef headcanons. do u have any more u can share? (luv ur art btw <333)

i would kill everyone on this planet for you and then myself tysm 💙💙

more clef headcanons (i will not be referencing 4231 in any of my clef posts just because that is very triggering for me, instead im gonna say he and 166's mom met one day when clef was in his late 20s, shit happened (ya know, they fucked), and boom he had to go and kill her and take 166)

#

· he was never really a child or teen, he was just a monster that happened to break into the foundation's reality one day (i say this bc i cant really imagine him as a child or teen, he's more monster than human and we may never know if he was a normal human that adopted these powers or came from smth else)

· he is both a reality bender and anchor, more so using his bending powers more

· he has many forms, whether the 'human' one is his true one or not is still a mystery, seeing as those he may not be showing his true capabilities or if he has another twisted form that is a lot more powerful

· he may be a rival of kondraki and they hate each other's guts, but he still respects him a lot. clef even met draven (kondraki's son) and admires how konny is a good dad, so he only gives kondraki a hard time and doesn't actually dislike him (clef 🤝 kondraki: good dads and clef finds it cute)

· more than anything, he wants to take meri out on a dad and daughter day. go to the movies, the mall, buy her anything she likes, etcetc. he thinks she deserves to be spoiled rotten (and she does!!)

· but he really dislikes how his daughter is super christian, so if she ever finds out he may be the devil or even states he could be anything satanic or sinful, it wont be pretty on her side

· his face isnt that comprehendible until u personally get closer to him. if ur a complete stranger to him, its impossible to directly look at his face without some sort of problem. it'll seem like static or as if nothing is there, and itll make u want to look away since its too much for ur brain to handle (can make people have headaches or their eyes sore). if ur a pal or a well known enemy of his, you'll see some features like his sharp and terrifying grin, and sometimes his 3rd eye (which will make anybody be in distress)

· he, surprisingly, has a great voice. what makes up for his lack of face or any horrifying features is his voice. sometimes you'll hear him hum a melody or quietly sing a song in his office, he sings more calming songs than anything energetic. if ur lucky enough he'll hop his ukulele out and start singing a wonderful and peaceful song

· he loves guns, but not in a weird way. back to my first headcanon, once he entered this reality and had a somewhat stable form, the minute he found out theres metal shiny things you can hold that make loud kaboom sounds and have many varieties hes like "holy shit!?!? that is so cool!!!!!!!" and its really his comfort item. he usually goes to any open range and practices bc it is a great distraction and he loves holdin em (like a stim!). he cleans em regularly, like a hobby of some sorts

· he's made his own songs before, but he keeps em in private. he may sing em for his daughter though!

· hes more in touch with anomalous beings then regular humans, cause every anomaly thats been locked up by the foundation can relate on something

· "hm. this small anomalous child has no (good) parental figure in their life? well that is clearly my child now. i am their new dad"

· he is very intelligent, you can never prank, trick, or pull any game on him. he can read gestures and cues very easily, and can pick up any weird vibes or feelins within his area

· hes definitely an anarchist, i dont make the rules

· he sometimes wishes he can live a normal life ina suburb home with an amazing s/o and his beautiful daughter and they live happily ever after. then he proceeds with "well where the hell is the fun in that?"

· he has yet to comprehend human emotions, mental illnesses or neurodivergency, he may be able to trick and mess with someone in their head, but being able to fully comprehend human feelings and such is far out of his abilities. maybe one day though

· mess with his friends or family? hes already at ur house bud. there's no saving ur miserable life now

· the infamous 'dr clef can't be affected by anomalous things or properties' still holds very true. he can be affected by 166's powers tho!

· he speaks 4-ish other languages: old greek/latin, german and french. he can gladly try and take up more languages tho, they amaze him!

#

i have more but i dont want to make this too long and borin for others lol

[girldraki]

headcannons ask: gears and iceberg?

mostly under a cut bc whoops this is long 2-4 songs that are probably on their iPod these are both very unspecific despite and we are sorry for gears: abba's dancing queen (inexplicable to everyone who doesnt know who his parents are), two like hourlong improvisational jazz concerts (instrumental) and something by philip glass for iceberg: carly rae jepsen's tonight im getting over you, one of marina's songs about being like. bitter and rageful and climbing to the top, uhhh some kind of 2009 era deeply shitty pop we dont want to ruin our youtube algorithm but you know the type, potential breakup song (explicit)

the one place they sometimes end up falling asleep – where they’re not supposed to iceberg obviously falls asleep on their office couch a lot. gears has a miserable time getting to sleep most of the time but sometimes taking the intrasite tram he gets perilously close.. its the Motion okay. the game they'd destroy everyone else at we said this ages ago but the two of them need to get into eve online with like one more person to act as a social buffer alongside them. they would be GREAT at it (we say, damning them with faint praise). that being said i think the horrid horrid spreadsheet ultra efficiency playstyle stardew apparently inspires in everyone is also something theyd be incliined to the emoticon they’d use most often gears uses ^_^. iceberg uses emojis and favors 🙄😌 and 😈 what they act like when they haven’t had enough sleep neither of them ever have enough sleep. iceberg gets... uh.,,. even more volatine and has a sort of uncomfortable energy to him and even less of an ability to back off, gears gets quieter and less emotive, you may notice they are both like that all the fucking time their preferred hot beverage on really cold nights. or mornings. or whenever. iceberg drinks hot cocoa and coffee type stuff that is so dolled up it might as well be hot cocoa. gears drinks ... also hot cocoa and sometimes tea which he finds marginally more tolerable than coffee but not by much how they like to comfort/care for themselves when they’re in a slump gears has no concept of self care because he has the work ethic of a mekhanite and never stopped to realize mekhanites usually have way more augmentations than he does but he's a natural stress baker who figures this out about when iceberg comes into his life. he also likes just sitting in a dark room under a weighted blanket for an hour or so. iceberg has a concept of self-care but it takes up about a paragraph in its entirety and it's basically all centered on either blowing shit up or chocolates what they wanted to be when they grew up gears wanted to be a mainframe or french or a containment specialist depending on when. iceberg wanted to be a mythbuster when he was little and then he realized "mythbuster" wasnt a job and promptly lost the majority of his bearing their favorite kind of weather iceberg likes when it is ever so slightly warm so he doesnt feel like hes boiling but not too cool so it doesnt feel like he's freezing and not terribly humid either (his optimal temperature range is extremely small). gears hasnt been outside much in years and is kind of pleasantly bewildered by rain thoughts on their singing voice (decent? terrible? soprano? alto?) gears can sing because he was raised by a set of o5s and o5s are theater kids, also the mekhanism. hes like.... a slightly high tenor and his speaking voice is pretty soft so people dont expect him to be able to project but he can. iceberg is pretty good at singing and. we've detailed this at length before but basically our standard assumption is that hes trans and hasnt been able to physically transition for medical reasons, anyway our point is he's like a medium alto how/what they like to draw or doodle gears does like... the equivalent of cursive doodles (do other people do those? i hope) but in broken on scratch paper he keeps on his desk at all times, and sometimes doodles gear shapes until they fill up the paper. iceberg also has scratch paper on his desk but sometimes ends up drawing all over forms anyway; he draws whatever the fuck is on his mind at the moment

[xthelastknownsurvivorx]

Hamilton!firstprince au

(cross posted from twitter with a couple of edits b/c i couldn’t make them there)

in which i loosely follow the plot of hamilton except its firstprince and alex and henry get a happy ending. inspired by the striking similarities i noted between our favorite first son and his namesake hamilton in the broadway musical

the similarities:

both have/will have a political career

both often talk too much/don't mind their words

both began as lawyers

both extremely motivated but overwork themselves (“nonstop” +  “you have a fire under ur ass for no good goddamn reason)

both had some sort of sex scandal that impacted their career plans

hamilton speculated to be bi

the story

the setup of the colonized country alex lives in is similar to the usa vs england but fictional bc alexs race would have limited his opportunities in america's early years

idk names for either of these countries so its now the colony and the motherland

alex + his mom live alone in the poorer southern part of the colony

but his dad + june live elsewhere + they dont rly contact e/o (tho they do know of e/o’s existence)

june becomes a journalist who writes important pieces abt independence

when alex comes of age his mom reveals she used to be part of the rebellion

thats actually why his dad left to raise june bc it was too dangerous

his parents met in the rebellion but oscar left first for june while ellen stayed until she realized she was pregnant w alex

ellen still has some rebel contacts but she mostly sheltered alex to keep him safe

now tho alex decides to join too + the rebellion sends him up north to the capital for an education bc he's smart + they need people like that

he attends uni + meets like-minded people there

tension grows btwn the colony in the motherland, and alex + his friends write/speak out often and this goes on throughout their schooling

they’re also troublemakers in general too, much to the annoyance of the motherland soldiers stationed in the capital to prevent rebellion

henry is one of those soldiers

he's from a noble family in the motherland but was sent overseas as the sort of black sheep of the family due to his sexuality

the idea was to let him be in charge in the colony + reestablish a reputation there w/o embarrassing the main family back home

henry hates his job + feels bad for the colonists but still does what he's told anyway

alex + fhis riends like to bug motherland soldiers for fun

nothing  enough to put their lives in danger too much (although yes that too esp when drunk)

henry becomes a favorite target of alex's bc he's awfully stoic + statue like + on the way to uni - overall fun to antagonize 

there's also the fact that alex is angry at all the soldiers for oppressing the colony + holding up the motherland monarchs tyranny (but also alex just is the type to fight literally everything and anything) 

it becomes almost a daily ritual for them to argue 

henry wonders why this colonist keeps on picking a fight w him but soon almost looks forward to it

many of the other soldiers know or speculate why henry is in the colony but none make the effort to get to know him; some even call him arrogant or undeserving of his position

alex doesn't 

of course alex also doesn't know him

and alex hates him

but he doesn't whisper behind henry's back

henry comes to read some of the essays alex publishes speaking out against the monarchy + also hears alex speak to crowd in the square

alex is a talented + charismatic public speaker

henry finds himself growing increasingly sympathetic to the colonists cause

at the same time he and the other soldiers are order to be stricter and dole out more punishments

the others gleefully do so which makes henry concerned about alex's safety bc alex often seems to have no self-preservation skills

henry asks alex for a word when he's alone 

“am I in trouble?” “no but you bloody will be if u keep going on like this” 

“this is serious” “so am I” “you can't go around saying things so openly you'll get yourself killed”

alex tries to leave at this point “I think I'll be ok” but henry shoves him against the nearest wall 

“listen to me! stop acting like this is a game! ur putting ur sodding life in danger! I dont bloody care what ur opinions r but why must u declare them around enemy soldiers? how is this helpful 2 ur cause? u cant fight if ur dead” 

“you'd b surprised how effective martyrs are” 

cue enraged henry noises 

alexs gaze turns hard “listen i  appreciate/the advice” he says sarcastically “but I dont need an enemy telling me what to do. I can take care of myself” 

there's a stirring in alexs chest after he removes henry's hand and stalks off that he's pretty sure is anger

like it can't be anything else 

while alex is trying to convince himself of that, the tensions boil over + soon the two sides are on the brink of war then the fighting starts

henry + alex don't talk much for a while bc they're both busy on their sides preparing

school is on hold during the war so alex + his friends are looking to serve + bring glory to their names 

alex esp is recognized for his intelligence + becomes the recognized general rafael lunas secretary

luna is the george washington figure in this case who is impressed by alex wants him as his right-hand man

alex is disappointed his role is not on the battlefield bc he knows he has a good tactical mind + he could change the tide of a losing war + gain honor and status thru it, which would put him in a good position to be elected in the future

as secretary, alex is in charge of a lot of important correspondence eg for more supplies + men, so the motherland soldiers figure ambushing him off the battlefield would make things hard for the colonists

henry overhears this plan + immediately worries for alex's safety but he's cornered by another soldier to talk strategy + misses the chance to take out the men then

henry manages to catch that they're going to attack alex at night when he leaves + henry arrives just in time to kill them in a panic

alex hears the gunshot + yells “drop ur weapon”, drawing his own gun

henry obviously does + alex inspects the scene he keeps a gun fixed on henry

“what's going on?” he asks, eyeing henry w/ suspicion

henry explains everything + looks positively terrified bc he just betrayed his side even tho the motherland and his family has treated him like shit since he came out but still. 

becoming an outright traitor is not something henry ever planned + leaving behind everything he's ever known w no hope of ever going back is terrifying

but he also doesn't regret protecting alex

alex questions henry but can quickly tell henry is sincere + is telling the truth

henry explains his change of heart + they have a heartfelt moment in/just outside luna's office.

alex almost died + henry just switched sides, emotions are running high and they escalate into a kiss. the moon is out + it's all very romantic but they don't admit their feelings yet

soon after they go to luna, explain the situation + talk w the other generals/people in charge

henry is sent away on an assignment + is watched closely at first but he proves his loyalty quickly

henry and alex write letters back + forth that turn into love letters 

besides managing correspondence for luna, some of alexs ideas of sneak attacks/stealing supplies help turn the tide of the war andhe also writes to other countries for foreign aid

eventually the colonists win in this huge up start that no one anticipated bc the motherland is known as the most powerful country in the world

he + henry reunite in the capital of once the war is over

alex finishes up his studies + practices law + soon is chosen to be part of the new lawmaking body

things are going pretty well for alex w his legal + political success and his relationship with henry

they dont live together but theyre dating tho no one else knows

alex pretends to be single instead + says he doesn't want to be tied down

it works while he's still in his early 20s but as he gets closer to 30, people start to find it strange + tell him he needs to settle

being married to his work is also not a valid excuse anymore

it turns out alex made quite a few political enemies due to his strong opinions that he always vocalises + can be unwilling to compromise on

they don't like his ideas or more often hate him and hence his ideas too

they look for some dirt on him bc atm he has lunas support which has a lot of sway + decide they need to find out why he hasn't married

they manage to find out about henry + threaten to tell the public

alex is obviously distraught re the consequences personally + politically

so alex and henry discuss what to do 

henry is willing to put alexs political career 1st but firmly explains their relationship can't continue if that's the case

henry gave up his whole life + any possibility of going back to his family so he's not willing to be someone's dirty little secret  

alex doesn't know what to do so he goes to consult luna who he's become very close with over the years

luna is not quite old enough to be his father but he's like an uncle + he always calls alex “kid”, much to alex's annoyance

but alex knows he'll have some good advice

alex + luna end up having a long conversation

like washington luna has always been very vocal abt his regrets re his naivety + desire for glory back in his youth

hes always said that this was his greatest regret in life. but then he tells alex like he had another great regret in life- letting go of the love of his life

alex is surprised bc luna's never mentioned anyone special

“who is she?” 

“he” luna corrects “he was my best friend. we had something a relationship but it was short-lived bc I decided I wanted to join the military + attain glory. i thought thats what i wanted in life. turns out that stuff is meaningless w/o anyone to share it w. nor did I even achieve it. perhaps i did accomplish some things but now in my retirement I have no one by my side. i have found that life is meaningless without love and family.  

“i tried to find my friend to reconnect after all these years even as simply friends but he died in the war. alex, I see many similarities between us. don't make the same mistake that I did, alexander. glory + lasting legacy mean nothing if you're alone in the end

“if you make choices that are motivated by love and family you will be a lot happier”

alex takes his advice even though he kind of hates sort of giving up to his enemies

he decides to choose henry and his own happiness over politics bc in the end he's done a lot of good work and that much is enough

also his enemies probably would try to blackmail him throughout his career if he was doing something against their interests

so he + henry leave the capital and move uptown and the two of them have a quiet retirement + engage in philanthropy for the rest of their lives

separately they've amassed a decent amount of money - henry kept a portion of his inheritance despite being unofficially disowned and alex made a lot of money as a lawyer and then politician

as it turns out alex still has a tangential role in politics when some of his former allies go to him for advice

all in all, alex happy with his final decision to be with henry and step away from politics

the two of them live happy and full lives together

[foolgobi65]

Ram/Sita + spy au+ friends to lovers + “you know i’ll do anything for you”

lol this...AGAIN....spun out of my control.....and is apparently 6020 words while still having massive massive holes in characterization and plot and ...general stuff..lol. anyways hope u like it? it ended up being way less Spy Spy and more ....arranged marriage au...... because everything i’ve written has basically been that now lol and raazi is the only spy movie i could think of that works bc rama and sita dont have mr and mrs smith vibes to me. love u!!!!!!

----

“Are you serious?” 

The face on the screen is somehow almost as familiar as Sita’s own -- she’s never been one for the gossip rags, but at some point, it’s almost harder not to know the features of someone who’s been famous since his parents announced his conception. 

“You know him, then.” Sita’s handler Kaikeyi seems remarkably even-tempered for a woman charging Sita, her top recruit, to attach herself to the arm of Kaikey’s stepson -- a boy that the papers seem to believe Kaikeyi prefers even to her own Bharata. Sita raises an incredulous eyebrow before realizing that Kaikeyi does actually expect Sita to recite what she knows about her newest target. 

“Ramachandra Raghav,” Sita recites from memory, “but the papers call him Ram. Only son of Dasaratha and his first wife Kausalya, sole presumptive inheritor to the Kosala industries fortune. Dasaratha Raghav and his wife publicly struggled to conceive and adopted a daughter, Shanta, nine years before they had Ram whose birth coincided with the release of Dasartha’s final film and his entry into politics.” Sita purses her lips, unsure if she should continue, but Kaikeyi remains impassive. “Dasaratha and Kausalya divorced when Ram was five, and three months later Dasaratha married you.” Judiciously Sita chooses not to include the fact that Kaikeyi, who during her acting days had only been paired with the already greying movie star, reportedly delivered her eight-pound son Bharata three months early. 

Kaikeyi rolls her eyes, still the same striking green that had made her first film such a hit. “Of course I was pregnant when we got married. What else.” 

Sita racks her mind. “The custody case was unusual -- Kausalya shifted to America with her children, but Dasaratha petitioned for them to stay with him in India. Shanta was 16 and decided to finish school abroad with Kausalya, but the courts decided that Ram would spend alternate years with each parent until he reached his majority.” It was the oddity of the arrangement that kept the Indian public so desperate for news about what otherwise might have been just another star-turned-politician’s son: pictures of Bharata, who was constantly being presented at building openings, movie premiers and other assorted Party functions went for nearly a quarter of the price as those of Ram whose arrival at the Delhi airport became more and more of a national event in sync with his father’s increasing political power. The exoticism of his American English was viewed with as much pride as his unaccented Hindi which the Party often used to great effect, having him canvass his father’s constituents on camera the year Dasaratha was put forward as the party’s candidate for Chief Minister and releasing them online. 

But it has been a few years since Ram was last in India for more than a month or so’s vacation -- at 16 he graduated from school and sent the Indian media into near paralytic shock when he decided to attend university in Delhi. Not even three years dimmed the public’s fascination, which quickly turned into genuine discontent when it was announced that Ram had accepted an offer to do his doctorate in California and had barely been seen in India since. 

“You want me to investigate a Chief Minister’s son?” Again, Sita leaves unsaid the rumors that swirl even in headquarters -- that Dasaratha’s relative competency at state-wide management has made him a viable candidate for even higher office. That after the last election’s dismal results, it is apparent that Dasaratha might be the only remaining Party figure popular enough to lead a coalition that would bring them to power in the Centre after nearly a decade at the periphery. 

Kaikeyi laughs. “Not quite,” she says, still perfect red lips twisting in a faint smile, “Ram is in New York now working for the UN, and it seems that he will have a long and illustrious career in diplomacy which will bring him into contact with all sorts of people of interest to our national security agencies. We need someone at his side to make sure that those contacts are being utilized to their full potential.” 

Sita frowns. “He’s too young to need a trusted aide or a secretary.” 

“Correct. That’s why we’re sending you to New York as his wife.” 

-- 

When Sita is 18, a woman comes up to her on the street asking if she’d like to be a model. As a laugh Sita shows up at what the woman’s business card says is the head-hunting agency’s main office only to be quickly moved to a backroom, divested of her backpack, phone and shoes and investing her with a new lifelong wariness of strangers with offers too good to be true. Her father is the aging yet venerable University President -- they don’t have the money for ransom, but Sita just as quickly rules out potential trafficking since her father has one or two connections that would raise quite the fuss if he informed them that his daughter was missing. But before she can think of another reason behind her apparent kidnapping, the door opens, and Sita’s life changes with the incoming rush of bright light into the dark room. 

“You’re..” she splutters, eyes raking up and down the perfect figure of the woman in front of her. 

“Yes,” Kaikeyi Raghav says, sunglasses perched delicately at the top of her head as she adjusts the pallu of her elegant chiffon sari. “I’m sorry for all the confusion, but we really needed to get you alone before we could try and talk to you.” 

“Talk,” Sita rasps, suddenly hyper aware of her own dry throat. Kaikeyi sighs, clapping her hands once before taking a bottle of water that appeared almost instantly at the door’s threshold, opening the cap and offering it to Sita who gulps it down. “Talk about what?” Sita asks. 

“One of our associates brought you to our attention about a year ago thinking that with some work you could be turned into something quite extraordinary.” Kaikeyi brings up her right hand to pull down her hair from its updo, the cascades only making her more breathtaking to Sita, whose father always had a soft spot for the old Dasaratha-Kaikeyi films. “I’ve been observing you ever since, and recently came to the same conclusion.” 

Sita can’t help but glow at the praise, even as she tries to keep her sense of rationality -- she’s been kidnapped after all, even if by one of the nation’s most illustrious figures. First: “Are you trying to traffick me into sex work?” 

Kaikeyi laughs, and the sound is clear and captivating like a bell. The more Sita watches, the smaller details begin to stand out -- a mole just slightly to the right of Kaikeyi’s collarbone, the green of the embroidery that brings out those colors in her eyes, the red fingernails that perfectly match Kaikeyi’s lips. 

“Do I look like a pimp?” Kaikeyi’s tone is one that does not truly seek a response, though Sita is not sure she even has one. The proclivities of the rich and powerful are rumored to skew to the truly scandalous, and there is no reason that an elegant woman could not be the front for the procurement of such services. 

“Then is this supposed to be recruitment for politics?” Sita has never thought herself particularly gifted at deception, which seems to be the first requirement for a fruitful career of public service. 

“No,” Kaikeyi laughs again, “but I find it interesting that you didn’t consider that I might be signing you on as a heroine.” 

“I don’t have a face for film,” Sita says, “and I have no intention of leaving Delhi.” 

“You have exactly the face for film,” Kaikeyi counters, “but I agree -- your mind would be as wasted as mine in Bombay.”  

“Then politics?” Sita, who was born and brought up in Calcutta before her father was given a position in Delhi had never given much thought to the Raghav’s stronghold Ayodhya -- she can’t imagine what Kaikeyi could possibly see in her. 

Kaikeyi shakes her head. “What do you know about this country’s intelligence services?” 

Sita blinks. “You want me to be a spy?” 

-- 

Five years after their first meeting, Sita has learned how to handle all sorts of weapons including her own body, how to speak a dozen languages, how to scope out a room. In some strange way, Kaikeyi seems to have filled the gaping hole left behind by Sita’s long-dead mother Sunaina, who Sita is not entirely sure would approve of what her daughter decided to make of her life. There isn’t quite a bond of affection, but there is loyalty beyond even what Sita would have given her own mother -- no better proof than the fact that here Sita is agreeing to marry Kaikeyi’s stepson entirely because Kaikeyi demanded it, where Sunaina would have had quite the shock if she had tried to suggest a man for Sita to wed. Sita had dreamed of marrying for love, but loyalty she reasons is close enough. 

Ostensibly, Sita has finished her MA with high honors and works at an NGO that enjoys Kaikeyi’s patronage -- this, they decide, is how the papers will be told Kaikeyi knows Sita. There are a few strategically leaked photos of Kaikeyi first paying the NGO a visit, then taking Sita out for a series of lunches. Sita finally travels to the ancestral Raghav mansion in Ayodhya for Diwali, bringing along her father to meet and pay his respects to his favorite screen star. 

“You must be Sita’s father,” Dasaratha booms when they approach, somehow brimming with the same vitality and presence that drew such crowds to the theater in his youth. He grins, left arm wound around Kaikeyi’s waist at his side as he turns to speak to Sita. “My wife has grown old and taken up matchmaking to pass the time, but from what I have seen you would be a fine choice for my Ram.” 

Janaka stiffens at Sita’s side, hearing about such an arrangement for the first time, but Dasaratha’s charisma pulls him into its orbit as Dasaratha reaches out his hands. “I confess that I was never well educated myself, but I believe it would only bring me and my family honor to be able to call someone as learned as yourself ‘Brother.’” 

Janaka is sold. Sita, who has never been quite sure about the real dynamic between Kaikeyi and her husband, realizes with some relief that there is genuine fondness, even love, in the smile she flashes her husband. Perhaps there might be hope for Sita herself. 

Dasaratha insists that the informal engagement is enough to justify Sita and her father’s extended stay at the mansion. After one day, he calls Ram himself informing his son that Dasaratha has found him a wife. Within a week, the news reports that Dasaratha’s eldest son has found himself back on Indian soil. 

Sita finally leaves the mansion two weeks after Diwali with the instruction that she must treat the property as her own home whenever she returns to India -- after all, Dasaratha booms, she is his beloved Ram’s wife now, and Dasaratha’s daughter now as much as Janaka’s. 

-- 

“So,” Sita says on their first night, sitting on what's supposed to be their marital bed,  “what name should I call you?” 

Her husband raises an eyebrow, silent just as he has been for almost the entire week since he was called home. Kaikeyi, when Sita asked for details, had not elaborated on the character of her stepson nor had she offered details about how Sita might best seduce him. 

“Follow your instincts,” Kaikeyi had said, smiling at Sita’s frustration. “You’ll know what I mean when you spend time with him.” 

Well, Sita thinks perversely, her instincts are telling her to confess everything to the man she has promised herself to in front of her father, and God almighty. Somehow, she is meant to maintain a lifelong relationship with a man she is only now speaking to, and to mine his contacts for information to send back to her handler, his stepmother. 

“The papers call you Ram,” Sita says, only a little sullen at the thought of the task ahead of her, “as does your family. Is that what you prefer to go by?” 

“My father’s family,” he corrects mildly, and Sita immediately flushes at the mistake. Kaushalya and Shanta had of course come, but arrived only the night before the wedding -- Sita had met them both the morning of, but only enough to touch their feet and have Kaushalya cluck, teary-eyed, over the beauty of Sita in her wedding sari. 

“Of course,” Kaushalya had said off-handedly to Shanta standing at her side, “Kaikeyi has always had excellent taste.” Sita had not trusted herself to answer. 

“Will we live with your mother in America?” Sita has been provided with what she considers shockingly little information regarding her future living situation -- Kaikeyi insists that, largely, this assignment requires Sita to effectively live her own life and as such being more information than provided a new wife would only detract from her performance. 

He shakes his head. “My mother and Shanta live in New York too, but Shanta needed to be closer to Columbia and...” he looks away, suddenly just slightly awkward. “Things changed so much for Mother throughout my life that I think she was finally able to find some type of stability when I was away at university. When it turned out that I was moving back, I didn’t want to be the one to throw her life back into flux.” 

Sita nods. “Are you close?” 

Her husband hums, fingers of one hand slightly worrying at the hem of a blanket. “As much as I can be, having spent every other year away.” 

Sita can’t imagine -- for years, the story of the boy caught so explicitly between two worlds has always been interesting or amusing, but now that she’s confronted with him in the flesh she knows that it must have been sad, too. She tries to imagine a mother committing to the notion that the child she waves off at the airport gate would not be the one who returned, and finds that it’s impossible. 

“It must have been difficult,” she offers, not elaborating on whether she is speaking of her husband’s family, or himself. 

He nods. “Father and Mother Kaikeyi always had Bharata, and the Party. I was glad when Mother found Sumitra and the boys.”

Sita’s eyes widen. “A friend?” 

He turns his body to look at her for the first time head-on. “No,” he says, eyes boring into Sita’s, exuding the same gravitational force as his father. “Her wife. The boys are my Father’s during a...period of disagreement with Mother Kaikeyi, and when Sumitra decided to keep them Mother brought her to New York to have the children. They fell in love.”

This is a test, Sita realizes, and for the first time, she realizes the wisdom of Kaikeyi’s lack of preparatory material even as she curses Kaikeyi in equal measure. She would have liked to have not been blindsided, but there is a truth to her reaction she could never have mimicked so effectively. Her mind roils with the amount of information relayed in such few sentences -- Dasaratha, already so old, still fathering sons. Kaikeyi and her husband having a disagreement so strident it sent him into another’s arms. Kausalya, raising more of Dasaratha’s children as her own. Kausalya, in love with a woman. 

Her silence has drawn on too long during her contemplation, and her husband’s eyes have gone cold as he leans away from her. 

“You call her Sumitra,” she decides on, “but if she’s your mother’s wife, should I call her mother in law as well?” 

Her husband is wide-eyed himself for a moment, but then his face cracks into a smile just dripping with sudden, unexpected delight. Sita’s heart skips a beat at the sight. 

“It would make her very happy if you did,” he says. “And as for me, my mother has always insisted on calling me Ramachandra and none of my siblings use my name at all. You can call me whatever you’d like.”  

---

“Rama!” Sita exclaims, trying to rise from the chair behind her desk and managing to trip on the hanging sleeve of the sweater she had been sitting on. She laughs, picking herself up off the ground. “Oh, and you brought the boys too!” 

It’s been a year since Sita moved to New York, a year in which she’s found fulfilling work at a South Asian women’s shelter, learned how to navigate herself via subway to find the best of ten different cuisines in New York, read three books related to Shanta’s new area of interest, featured in the boys’ Instagram Lives over 20 different times, and found herself a best friend in the form of her husband. 

Ram, she had decided, was how the public knew him even if his father’s family chose the same. Ramachandra was much too long. Rama was short, sweet, vowels easy in Sita’s mouth. 

“No one calls me that,” he’d said when she’d first used the name, his tone again one of unexpected delight. “I’ve always thought it was strange that they never did.” 

Sita’s due a lunch break, but she’s always been prone to eating at her desk unless she’s eating out -- a budgeted, once weekly expense she keeps track of after the humiliating exorbitancy of her first month’s bill. 

“We have money,” Rama had said, bemused at Sita’s profuse apologies. “I’ve got a trust fund, but my salary certainly pays well enough for this.” He’d glanced at the bill Sita had handed him as she had wrung her hands in front of him, so unsure of how she’d managed to spend so much. “It looks like this is mostly just restaurant charges anyway, and,” he’d looked up at Sita with a smile, rising to hold her hands before she could twist them again, “you live in New York now. I’m glad that you’ve spent the last month trying all sorts of the things the city has to offer. It’s exactly what I did when I moved back, except I probably spent twice as much.” 

Sita had felt the first of many twin pangs at his kindness -- one pang of joy, at being with someone so well suited to herself, and another of sorrow when she thought of how their relationship was founded on a lie. Kaikeyi had told Sita that there was no need to actively seek out contacts for at least the first year, and so the extent of her real work was having regular conversations with Kaikeyi that easily blurred the line between professional and personal relationships. 

“Is he any good at sex,” Kaikeyi had asked one day after asking for a report about Rama’s “family situation” which Sita found distressingly similar to the inquiries of a second wife wondering about her husband’s former paramours. Sita had hung up. 

“Sita?” Sita starts, bringing herself out of her reverie and smiling. 

“Sorry,” she says, grabbing her coat. “I was just thinking about something.” 

“Something interesting?” He takes the coat and holds it out for Sita to slip her arms into, smoothing down the lapels when she turns around. “I spent the whole morning stuck in the single least productive set of meetings, and knowing them they’re probably arguing about what appetizers to get for lunch. I’ve never felt as lucky as I did when I told them all that, unfortunately, I’d already logged that I was taking a half-day to take care of my brothers.” 

The boys scowl. “We’re thirteen years old,” Lakshmana says. Shatrughana nods in agreement. “We could have gone home by ourselves!”

Sita flashes Rama a smile, leaning down with an expression as if in deep thought. “That’s true enough -- if you’d like we can send you home and just join you after I finish work, but aren’t your moms on a health kick right now?” 

Lakshmana, always the more suspicious of the pair, crosses his arms. “And?” 

“Well,” Sita drawls, hearing Rama snort softly next to her, “your brother and I were thinking of taking you to the greasiest joint we can find in walking distance, and then to 7/11 after to find you both snacks for when you spend the weekend at our apartment. But if you’d rather not, that’s totally ok too!” 

The boys fall for the line, hook and sinker. 

“Oh,” Lakshmana says, voice suddenly a pitch lower than usual as he squares his shoulders in what Sita doesn’t think any of the three recognize is his best imitation of Rama, “that’s ok.” He looks over at Shatrughana, who nods. “Family is important. Let’s go eat!” 

“Thank you,” Rama says softly after they’ve finally decided where to eat and are walking in the correct direction. Sita raises an eyebrow. “You’re good with the boys,” he explains, shrugging his shoulders. “I was expecting to have to take them out on my own, and stay at my mother’s when I wanted to spend time with them but --” 

Sita interrupts him before he says something truly embarrassing about what she only sees as a pleasure. “It’s easy when they’re such good kids,” she says, “and I would have done it even if it was harder. It’s the least I could have done for you, after everything.” 

Everything being the credit cards he’d given her when they landed, his insistence that he wouldn’t monitor her spending and would set up a bank account for her that he would periodically transfer money into but not be able to access. Everything being the books he shared with her and the books he read on her recommendation, in turn, the concerts they’d attended together, the plays and musicals and movies and street festivals. Everything being the conversations they’d had on the couch until late at night, the meals he learned to cook because they reminded her of home. 

The one similarity underlying all others between them, Sita realized one day, was that they had both grown up lonely, without anyone person, they could claim truly, entirely understood them. Neither of them had had a best friend until they met the other. By unspoken agreement, they had not consummated their marriage that first night, nor during the first few hectic months of Sita’s acclimation to New York. Eventually, it became easier to simply maintain things as they were and to enjoy the novelty of a companion before things became ... complicated. 

If a part of Sita insisted that she hold off from sex so as to not build even more on an inherently unstable foundation -- if that same part screamed that her husband had given her trust beyond all else and she squandered the gift every day she didn’t tell him who she really was -- then that was something for Sita, and only Sita, to think about.

--- 

“Oh,” Sita hears from the bathroom threshold, glancing through the mirror at the figure Rama cuts in his tailored tuxedo. It’s been nearly a year and six months since their marriage, and what Sita thought of as friendship has since bloomed into a wild, uncontrollable love. Yet, she keeps her love to herself, knowing that it would be cruel to offer him fruit with a rotted core. 

He cares too, she knows -- only a fool could willingly ignore the little signs of it he offers so freely, long and lingering looks, kisses to her cheek, forehead, the corner of her lips and the edges of her knuckles. She knows that her resistance to further intimacy must confuse him, perhaps even hurt him, but still, she can’t help but think that things would be worse if she gave in only for him to find out later. Sometimes, she wonders if Dasaratha knows about Kaikeyi -- if Lakshmana and Shatrughana owe their existence to a revelation of the truth which so discomfited their sire that he sought another woman to drown in. 

Sita is selfish, far too much so, to allow the truth to poison what she now has, half-life as it is. So she smiles over meals Rama cooks for her, meets the contacts Kaikeyi has started sending her way during lunch breaks she takes less frequently at her desk and begins preparing her heart for when things will inevitably fall apart. Today, she and Rama will attend a gala meant to raise funds for refugees which will double as a drop-point for some dissident’s data collection from the last five years on the inside of their regime’s surveillance operation. 

“You look beautiful,” Rama says, walking in. Sita’s hands, haphazardly smoothing down the last wisps of hair that refuse to curve to her skull in their updo, pause when he places his own over them. “Is that my mother’s sari?” 

Sita nods. “The style has come back,” she says, reaching out to the counter for the strand of jasmine Sumitra had sent to their apartment to be paired with Kausalya’s sari. “Even Kaikeyi approved, which means that this outfit technically has the approval of all three of your mothers, and your sister as well.” 

Rama smiles softly, taking the jasmine and pinning it up with a deft hand that speaks of experience. “I’ve never been one to keep up with fashion trends, but I think you wear it very well.” 

“Kaikeyi says it makes me look like a movie star.” In order for the drop to be successful, Kaikeyi had demanded Sita pull out all the stops possible within the relatively demure confines of charity-wear. Sita’s blouse plunges at the back, skin unobstructed by a pallu or bra, and she shivers slightly when Rama’s left-hand traces lines. 

“I suppose she would know,” he says absently, eyes raking up and down at Sita’s reflection in the mirror they both face, passing over her eyes rimmed with kohl and her dark red lips. His right-hand falls to his pocket, searching for a moment before he finds what he needs, pulling out a pair of beautiful earrings Sita hadn’t known he had. 

“Mother Kaikeyi had me get these from storage a few weeks ago, but I wasn’t sure if they would suit what you were planning on wearing.” They look at the pieces in his hands, realizing together how well the earrings will look with Sita’s sari. 

“Will you put them on me,” Sita asks, voice thin and breathy despite herself. His hands are gentle, just slightly cool to the touch as they gently thread the earrings into her lobes, tightening the screws and caressing her ear before moving to ghost over Sita’s hips. If Sita moved into his touch, allowed him to grasp her body so hard that she bruised if she turned her face just slightly and brushed her lips against his -- her entire body is one flame, but even now she is attending this gala with her own motive, even has a small gun she plans on holstering to her left leg as insurance. She can’t. 

She can’t. Sita takes one step forward, Rama’s hands falling back to his own sides. 

“We’ll be late,” Sita says, moving them back into purgatory instead of choosing heaven or hell. 

Rama shakes his head slightly, taking a breath. “Yes,” he replies, tone never betraying a sense of the frustration he must feel. He smiles again, holding out a hand. Sita will tell him one day, she tells herself. He deserves that much. 

“Let’s go.” 

-- 

One day, it seems, will be sooner rather than later. Sita’s very first drop of this assignment, after nearly two years of prep, and it seems like she’s going to end up just another statistic, shot in the head for all her efforts. 

Worse, she thinks, she’s going to break Rama’s heart. The dissident was less careful than they’d thought, trusted someone they shouldn’t have, and now they’re both being held up against a wall and being told to recite any final prayers for their souls. Sita’s single measly gun at her hip wouldn’t change the odds of 10 against 2, especially since no amount of physical training will significantly change the realities of her smaller physique going up against larger numbers of even better-trained muscle. 

She only wishes that she’d thrown caution to the wind once, had told Rama the truth and let the cards fall where they may. She wishes she could see him one more time and apologize, reassure him that her love was true even if her initial motives weren’t. 

“Hey,” she hears from somewhere in the distance, away from their cluster of a firing squad. Her heart simultaneously sinks and soars to realize that the voice is Rama. “That’s my wife!” 

The leader laughs, just as the dissident sobs. Sita clutches their hand tighter. “Then I’m sorry to say that she hasn’t been much of a wife,” the leader sneers, “just another one of Kaikeyi’s little rats meddling where they’re unwanted.” 

“Run!” Sita screams, deciding that she’d rather Rama be alive than hear her confessions before he too is killed. “For my sake run, before they decide to kill you too!” In the back of her mind, she knows that it’s already too late -- people are executed for far less than what Rama is doing, which is continuing to walk forward. 

He sighs audibly, not even pausing his forward momentum. “I’m sorry,” he says, and for some reason, Sita genuinely believes that he is. “You know I’d do anything for you, but there’s something I haven’t told you yet about me.” 

Shouldn’t that be Sita’s line? “What,” she croaks, captivated by how he’s somehow holding the group hostage, each of them curiously watching as he walks right up to wear Sita and her companion stand against the wall. “Please,” she sobs, breaking her own vow to face death with dignity, “if you’ve ever cared about me, you would leave.” 

Rama’s fingers come up to trace Sita’s bruised eye, her puffy lip, the cut at her cheekbone. “Concussion?” he asks, completely ignoring Sita’s plea. 

“It hardly matters,” she says, “when I’m going to die in about five minutes. Just like you will if you don’t leave right now.” 

Rama hums, right hand shifting down to her thigh, where her gun is strapped. Sita’s eyes widen as though the fabric he seems to be easing the gun out and up to where the fabric wraps around her waist. Left hand still caressing her cheek as the right holds the gun in place against her stomach, he leans in to gently kiss Sita’s forehead. 

“All three of us are going to live tonight,” he says, so confident that it seems as if it would be absurd for Sita to think anything else as if even three against 10 the odds are stacked firmly in their favor. “Hold this for me?” 

Sita’s hand shifts down to the gun still hidden in the fabric as Rama steps away and turns, his hands now busy divesting himself of his tuxedo jacket and the bowtie Sita had so painstakingly learned how to tie for him earlier. 

“Now,” he says casually, as everyone watches him worry at his cufflinks, dropping them in the pile now at Sita’s feet, later followed by his wedding ring. “Unfortunately for you all this means that you will not be surviving this encounter. Do you have any last words?” 

The leader laughs. “Are you fucking kidding me?” 

Rama’s left-hand reaches out behind him. Sita, as if in a trance, dutifully fishes out the gun and places it in his hand before realizing that she has something she needs to say before it's too late. His own confidence gives her some of her own, but still how could he possibly win? How will they possibly survive -- and if, against all odds they do, what on earth is she going to say? So: “I love you,” she blurts out, smiling slightly when Rama’s head twists to look at her, incredulous, but before he can respond the first bullet fires and he explodes into action. 

For the first two minutes, the fight is 10 against 1 and still, Rama makes it look like child play. Weaving in and out, every shot he fires taking down at least one if not more of the men against him. At some point, he grabs another gun and tosses it in Sita’s direction, whose entrance into the melee serves to turn the tide even further. At least she’s always been a good shot, she thinks to herself, taking a man out even when her head rings with what she knows her husband accurately diagnosed as the beginning of a concussion. Part of her can’t do anything but watch as her studious, gentle husband breaks someone’s nose before shooting them through the heart. 

Within five minutes, it’s over. Just like Rama said, all ten men are dead at their feet. The gun drops out of his hand, slippery now with other people’s blood. Sita’s kill count is 2. He’s just killed eight men. 

“I...” Sita starts, realizing she doesn’t know what to say. She swallows, looking at the carnage around her and tries again to reconcile the sight with Rama’s soft sweaters, old fashioned glasses, and aversion of horror films. “How?” 

Rama purses his lips. “Same as you,” he says, wiping his hands on his pants with a grimace. “Mother Kaikeyi trained me, and while I was in India I was sent on assignment.” 

Sita pauses. “You’re a spy?” Even as she says it, she knows that she’s in no position to speak with such scandal in her voice -- yet, she thinks, she had thought she knew him, that he had trusted her. 

Rama laughs as he never has: short, hollow, bitter. “No,” he says, “not anymore. And even when I was, I was more of a hitman than anything else. I quit and moved away, and I assume that’s why Mother Kaikeyi sent someone to make sure I didn’t step too far out of line as a rogue element.” 

Somehow, Sita thinks, this is worse than she imagined. “No,” she says, rushing forward, hands wringing as if he’s looking again at her first credit card bill. “I asked at the beginning. It was never about you.” 

Rama is silent for a moment that seems to stretch endlessly as the adrenaline wears off for Sita, and her aches start to make themselves known. Her face throbs, her head spins, and there’s something in the vicinity of her ribs that twinges while she stands still -- not broken, she doesn’t think, but maybe bruised? Rama’s hands, almost as if it were against his mind’s will, come to stop her hands and tangle his fingers in his own as they do nothing but stare into the darkness over the other’s shoulder. “I’m glad that that’s what you were told,” he says eventually, and Sita suddenly realizes that there is an entire lifetime’s worth of complication she hadn’t known existed. 

“I wasn’t told anything,” she says, sure now that Dasaratha knows at least part of Kaikeyi’s truth, because why else would Kaikeyi have made sure that Sita walked into her relationship as transparent as possible. “Everything we shared was real.” She pauses, uncertain. “At least from my end.” 

Rama’s hands are like vices, clutching Sita’s fingers so hard it feels like he’s cut her circulation. “From mine as well. So when you just said--” 

“Yes,” Sita says, unable to say now what fear of imminent death had so successfully inspired. “Before, I was afraid of you finding out about me, but yes of course.” 

Rama exhales. “I’d hoped that’s what was stopping you, but I was never entirely sure that you really were one of Mother Kaikeyi’s recruits,” he smiles with a hint of self-deprecation. “You’re a good actor, you know.” 

“No,” Sita says, bringing her hands up to cup his face, finally deciding to be brave. “I’m really not.” She leans in. 

Their first kiss is gentle, tastes just slightly like blood, and ends quickly when Sita’s lip is irritated and makes itself known. It’s perfect. 

“I love you,” Rama breathes into the sliver of space when they part, one hand drifting to hold her at the waist, another rubbing small circles into the nape of her neck. Sita’s head spins, and not only from the concussion. 

“Hey,” she hears from somewhere behind. “I’m glad you two seem to have made up...and also .... that we’re all alive. But can we go now?” 

Sita laughs, and then immediately regrets doing so. “Yes,” she says as Rama holds her still, “let's go.” 

[friendlylocalwhumper]

a long reply to a long anon criticism. deals with race, and oppression as written in whump fiction.

here are a series of asks sent to me about an hour ago, raising a concern/issue with my writing:

1/? dude. i was reading your recent story where emory (a young, gay, black man) was beaten by the cops and i finally had to say something. all your stories where he sits there and worries about how his white boyfriend is the target of police brutality bc of some form of oppression YOU (a presumably non-black person) got to make up?? those have rlly left a bad taste in my mouth, but the one where you actually torture your black character to show how bad the white one has it put me over the edge.

2/? these are real issues. ig i was able to ignore you using systematic brutality as “a fun prompt to write about!” when race wasnt rlly a factor in your stories, but as soon as emory got introduced it became more and more inappropriate of you to twist these ideas. “wouldnt it be sad if lux got beat up just for being a warlock 😔” yeah. and his bf is black, and hes in danger of that every day.

¾ as bad as just ignoring actual brutality was, having to read a story where a young, gay, black man was graphically beaten by police officers for YOUR pleasure, for FUN, when it wasn’t even his race that put him in that position (which isnt even ur place to write abt for torture porn but at least its addressing a real issue) but the fact that he was mistaken as the class you made up and chose to make oppressed?? that was wildly inappropriate.

4/4 this isnt hating on your writing or whatever, so dont call it that and pretend its anything other than informing u of what you can and cant speak about. a reminder of your lane. these arent your concepts to play with, stick to a singular whumper or whatever and cool it on the police brutality since u dont know how to handle it (presuming there even IS a way to handle this correctly as a whump device, which im not convinced there is)

bonus/4 pls dont do the white person thing of just ignoring those messages or going “no its not racist. i know bc i dont think it is/ i say its not.” like. im just genuinely letting you know it’s inappropriate, and you dont get to say “oh its not! i didnt mean for it to be so its not!” so i would appreciate it of you would take it into consideration or at least address it

my response:

there’s some context that i think you’re missing, in terms of how lux’s world came about. i’m gonna try to explain it without sounding like i’m trying to veer off-topic.

the world in which lux and emory live is a dystopia. is it a dystopia because i enjoy thinking about, writing, and daydreaming about systemic oppression? no. oppression isn’t a trope that i particularly enjoy; it’s not, like, something i’m into, you know? the only reason that i set it up like this, with brutal cops and propaganda and general public hatred of this class of people, is because i needed an excuse for lux to get hurt often. i wanted to write him getting beat up, didn’t matter if it was by friends or enemies or assassins or aliens. just as long as i had some kind of general excuse, a plausible reason for him to get hurt as often as i tend to write. so i made a fictional society where people get hurt a lot. lux happened to have magic, thanks to the original prompt that inspired his creation, so i figured he could get targeted for that. that’s why lux, a white boy, is targeted for having magic, and why magic users are oppressed in the universe i made up.

i know that these are real issues. i am white, as you guessed. inherently, i will never truly know what it is like to be oppressed as a black man. i understand why this raised alarm bells for you, and why you felt the need to tell me about your discomfort - to stop my writing of these characters in this universe.

but do i agree with your point that i can’t write oppression because i am white? no. just like i think it’s okay for anyone to write sensitive topics like abuse, torture, conditioning, murder, and assault if they are careful and respectful enough about it. race is a super precarious subject matter, as it should be, because there is a lot of real-life suffering and fear tied into it. i don’t get to decide what’s racist and what’s not.

but i am not fetishizing oppression - or, at least, what i am doing is no different from what other whump writers dealing in sensitive subject matters do. i am utilizing fiction, which will always parallel real life in some way, to create a story that i enjoy writing and reading. i want to hurt lux, so i created a world in which i could do that. i try to walk the tricky line of writing diverse characters without just throwing characters of color around as if it automatically makes my content less white and one-dimensional. i also try my best not to give emory lines about his race, or give him backstory related to being particularly oppressed or privileged, because i don’t feel comfortable putting such words in a black character’s mouth as a white writer.

now for my last point: whump isn’t torture porn. just judging by your automatic wariness and word choice, i’m guessing that you’re not a whump writer. writers in this community are extremely careful. we tag excessively, use content warnings, and do everything we can to help readers avoid content they don’t want to be exposed to. we all know that whump entails the writing of torture, abuse, humiliation, gore, and many other things that, in real life, are terrible to suffer. that’s… kind of what whump is. there’s a general understanding, here, that we’re going to write such heavy things, employing something sort of like suspended disbelief, i guess, to let ourselves enjoy whump without stressing about the real-life parallels to the fiction.

so that’s my response to your criticism.

anon, i don’t really appreciate the fact that your last ask was a transparent bid to get me to publish your messages, but. well. i wanted to do my best to answer instead of just leaving these asks in my inbox.

[hobiwonder]

Teen Idle | (m)

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Smut. PWP

Warnings: Unprotected sex, creampie, blowjob, dry humping, exhibitionism, dirty talk, degrading language, mentions of religion in a negative light. Mentions of infidelity. 

Summary:  “Wish I’d been a teen, teen idle Wish I’d been a prom queen, fighting for the title Instead of being sixteen and burning up a bible Feeling super, super (super!) suicidal The wasted years, the wasted youth The pretty lies, the ugly truth And the day has come where I have died Only to find I’ve come alive” - Teen Idle by Marina

OR: You’d been a good girl and for what? Hedonistic adventures of a church girl turned.... well, bad. 

Words: 6k+

A/n: Bad like this absolutely last minute smut lmao eejhbduefhebfuejdn i wrote this in two days and this was NOT on my list of WIPs until like a day ago so I apologise if this isn’t your cup of tea. But tysfm to @yminie for the AMAZING mood board I forever will be amazed by her talents. Not beta read bc it’s my baby’s bday and i dont wanna be sending over work for her to read over!! pls let me know if you enjoyed. I loved writing hoseok ravage me in my mind :’))).

It was hard to understand what exactly was your place in the world. Ever since you’d been a  young girl, growing up in a conservative house with a preacher for a father and a very strict mother to match – you had known nothing but disciple, purity and how to make conscientious choices knowing that god is watching at all times. Even to think of an anomalous thought earned you a solitary confinement in your room with the holy book itself to make your wrongs in to rights. Your parents couldn’t have the preacher’s daughter being just like those insolent teenagers that you went to school with – could they?

The whole of your youth had been spent singing in choirs, volunteering at church on every Sunday and making sure each moment of your life was free from sin and impurity. You never wanted to be like the drugged, easy harlots that went to your impure school. You were better than that. You were better than them. That’s what you’d been told your whole life. To be better than everyone else in the eyes. It did not matter to you that you didn’t have a social circle surrounding you like the rest of your peers that you witnessed on a daily basis – making out freely and shamelessly on the hood of their cars after school or even before school.

“You’re better than these heathens, y/n. Remember that. The lord will reward you for your resistance.” These words have been spoken to you so many times you’d lost count. Your father was a strict man and every punishment, every lesson came down to this; being better than those ‘heathens.’ It wasn’t to say that you regretted servicing the church as a teenager, spending your nights sorting out bulletins instead of crashing college parties like the girls in your class giggled about in the hallways. Charitable work was regarding high in the eyes of the lord. And this life was temporary. You had the whole of heaven to look towards after passing from this world and the hedonistic people that inhabited it.

You wanted to be nice and virginal because in the eyes of the lord, in the holy book, that was more desirable than being an easy slut. Society still valued the innocence, perceived dependency, and sexual inexperience of a female virgin, while shunning women when they “corrupt” themselves by giving themselves away and you’d been a fool when you’d given it all away to one man that you’d thought was the one for you. But what did you get in return? A cheating bastard who’d been sleeping with his secretary – quarter his age.

“Y-Y/n!” your whole body had been on auto pilot and your feet had taken you straight towards your car while Sehun had ran after you – shirt unbuttoned and haphazardly tucked in to his slacks after the scandalous scene you had walked in to at his office.

“Y/n, wait! I can explain!” you’d been told all your life that rage was a sin too. Never to let the anger consume your brain enough to make it cloudy with bad decisions and yet, you hadn’t cared then when you’d turned out – heaving with so much anger you weren’t sure if it was possible to explode from just one emotion.

“Explain what?! What is there to explain?” Your tone is louder than the gentle croon it always was, speaking gracefully and politely like good girls from noble, pious families did. It the surprise on Sehun’s face at your outburst is almost as surprising as finding out that your fiancé had been sleeping with another woman for god knew how long!

But that’s right isn’t it? God knew everything and he had known about this too. So why did he think you deserved this? Did you not deserve to be happy? With a fiancé, a good job, a ‘good’ family? Where did you go wrong?

You’d given up your body for this man thinking he’d done the same. He’d given you himself in return and you had felt whole – at least then. So why did you feel so conned now? Why did you feel the regret creep up now at giving up your purity, your virginity to a man you had given everything to and gotten absolutely nothing from?

“I can’t believe you’re talking to me like that.” The look of utter surprise with an undertone of disgust had you wanting to hurl your bag to his face – wiping away the contorted expression as if he’d met the most vile person on earth. He was in in place to be chastising you after being caught fucking his secretary and yet he had the nerve to do it anyway?

“Fuck you, Sehun.” That’s the last thing you’d uttered to his face, surprising even yourself at your boldness before you’d dashed out of the lot to where you sat now. The bar that was closest to your work building while you’d been driving by. Your emotional state was somewhere between a mess because of your time wasted with Sehun and feeling bitter as you questioned your whole life. What did you have to show for all those years spent following the rules, being a good religious girl only to break one of the most scared rules for a man that didn’t give a crap about you?

You felt dirty and disgusting and craved the glory that you felt within you – like you were better than the people surrounded by you – pure and almost godly. It fed the narcissist in you that your parents had made you out to be. Always telling you that you were better than everyone else out there because of who you were and how you lived your life. Sure your co-workers thought you a but stuck up. But of course – they weren’t the ones with a modest job, a fiancé, a perfect home at such a young age. They were just bitter that your life was flawless and you had it all while staying pure and remembering god while the heathens out there could never have both.

At least that’s what you’d thought. How did you even fool yourself in to believing that you could have it both ways? Have pre-marital sex while trying to live a life that ensured you your place in heaven. Why did it all seem like a waste of time? You’d been a fool and lived a lie. Thinking that being a good Christian girl instead of living a life like the typical teenager did would ensure that you avoided heartache such as this. But it happened anyway. So why? Why had you been so good? Why did you waste your youth burning up a bible while your peers were out there making these mistakes already; probably learning how to avoid men exactly like Sehun than being a fool almost nearing 30 and never having had intimate relationships – at least not like the one you had with Sehun. You’d given him your virginity for goodness sake.

“What would you like ma’am?” The bartender looked at you – slightly unsurely as you stared up at his face just as confused, having never been at a bar like this alone. In fact, you could count on one hand the times you had visited a bar and it had been with Sehun to attend work functions that you both usually left early to pray together before you went to bed at 10pm promptly. God, you were a fucking disaster. And maybe this was a mid-life crisis because even you weren’t sure you’d make it to 60 years old let alone live a normal life in to your elderly years.

“She’ll have a vodka tonic.” The deep, sultry voice was unmistakably of someone you had known very well at work. Well, known was a bit of an over statement.

The bartender nodded, getting to mixing your drink straight away while all the golden skinned, glowing sharp features and a lithe body and a perfect coy smile that was Hoseok, took a seat beside you on the bar stool. His hair was parted and the tie he’d been sporting at work today was loosened around his neck but the blazer still stayed. He looked like a sin you wanted to commit and you couldn’t believe that your mind was so loose tonight that it had even allowed you to think lustful thoughts rather than filtering them out of your system like you’d trained it to.

“Mr. J-Jung.”

“We’re not at the office anymore Y/n. Please call me Hoseok.” He smiled at you so brightly that if you weren’t so at war with yourself internally; you may have even returned it. Usually you avoided much contact with the opposite sex as you already had a fiancé and looking at strange men was not looked upon favourably in the eyes of god. Especially men that induced such lustful thoughts in your mind… But did that even matter anymore? Why had you done all of that when it in the end you’d been fucked over by life anyway? Were you just another pathetic woman; like the ones you despised and told yourself that you were nothing like them?

“Never thought I’d see you at a bar, let alone, by yourself. What’s happening? Lover boy skip a date to go to church?” He chuckles at his own joke and you can’t bring yourself to fight with him. Because at the moment you were questioning every aspect of your life, every opportunity missed and every mistake not made.

Fuck Sehun. Fuck him. Fuck religion. Fuck the people who fooled you in to thinking that you were special. Because if you were then why did this happen? You were no better than any other woman out there even when you kept yourself the cleanest you could. You denied yourself the pleasures that everyone indulged in – thinking and even feeling to some extent like the godly being you were told to strive to be.

“No. He diched me to fuck his secretary at his office.” Your casual response has Hoseok’s eyes going wide, spluttering for a moment before he’s shaking his head as if trying to wrap his head around what you’d told him.

“First of all, never thought I’ll hear you swear,” He shoots you a smirk before a more sombre look takes place on his face, “Damn. Holy shit. I’m sorry to hear that y/n. How could he do that to… toyou.”

Maybe you’d be offended if the context and the circumstances were different. But they weren’t. And it was true. You had thought yourself to be better than everyone else you worked with and thought that you deserved it all. It was your reward for following the rules that god made man to follow. But of course, where did that get you? A lost virginity that made you feel like a whore with even actually being one, not knowing what was true and what wasn’t and the regret. The fucking regret that in your late 20s you had wasted your youth and never gained the ability to deal with a heartbreak such as this. Suddenly, you craved it all. You wanted to go back in time, fuck every guy on the basketball team, fall in love with all of them just for them to break your heart the next week. Drink yourself to oblivion to numb the pain of said heart break or eat your feelings. Do everything that would prepare you for today so could handle these feelings like an actual strong woman and not one whose confidence lay solely on god. Who waved around a false sense of superiority because she didn’t drink? Didn’t smoke? Had only slept with the man she was going to marry?

You’d wasted all those years like a fucking fool. And of course, Hoseok, who teased you the most about being the way you were – stuck up – to witness your downfall.

“Well, he did.” You’re nonchalantly taking a sip of a drink you’ve never had before but thankfully you’re not spitting it back out like a rookie as the alcohol burns its way down your throat and settles in your system. Already making your body temperature rise and you weren’t even through with all of the glass.

“What a shitbag.” Normally you would reprimand anyone who sore in front of you but today; you just shrugged. Still deep in thought, letting the regret take you over as you downed another glass, the pleasant haze of feeling tipsy tearing down your walls of defence and your inhibitions.

“Well, as much as I dislike you for being a killjoy at work and having your nose in the air every time someone even walks by you; I apologise on the behalf of male species. Never thought any bad would be happening to you.” He’s snorting to himself as he drinks his own glass of whiskey, gesturing the bartender to fill your glasses once more. And while he does; you look at him. Reallylook at him. You no longer want to deny that Jung Hoseok was a devastatingly charming man. He was a favourite around the office and you’d never seen him without some sort of smile on his handsome, sharp face. When you’d first started work at his department; he’d tried to flirt with you on day one but you’d quickly shut him down, holding on to your cross necklace as you told him you didn’t court men that easily. But as you watched his easy stance, the way his thighs spread out naturally to accommodate him and the dishevelled look of his hair from running his hands through it; you wanted him.

You wanted him to make you forget. You wanted to live out each and every fantasy you had and make up for the lost years you spent holed up as a teenager. And who best to do it with the most handsome and effervescent man you knew? Sure, you’d only given him dirty looks each time you caught him in the break room making out with a different co-worker every other week. But you were a hypocrite. Because in this moment, you wanted nothing more than to be one of those girls. You wanted him to fuck you on every surface of every building. You wanted to be an actual whore than pretend like you were treated any better than one. Discarded to the side so easily by Sehun.

“You okay, y/n?” He’s looking at you now and you know that he’s caught the spark in your eyes, no doubt being able to tell that you weren’t the y/n he worked with on the daily basis. You realise; that version of you had died the moment you’d caught Sehun in the act. This was the new you and she wanted to make up for lost time and suddenly, you felt jittery and moist between your legs as you glanced at Hoseok’s fingers circling the mouth of the glass.

“I will be. If you can help me.” Your voice is soft but determined as you stare him square in the eyes. Sometime during the night, he’d somehow moved closer to you, face now inches away from yours as his own shamelessly took in your pencil skirt and your collared blouse. To proper and put together for his liking. And now, to your own as well.

“You really mean that?” His voice is deliciously husky and it sends a chill down your spine but you nod your answer anyway. Not breaking eye contact with his glossy ones.

“I need you to say it sweetheart.” And you will. Because tonight you wanted nothing more than to feel the feelings you had avoided your whole life – thinking that somehow you’ll remain a better person than everyone you knew.

“W-Will you… will you fuck me Hoseok? Show me what good girls can’t have? Make me regret ever not wanting to let you have me on that day?” Even to your ears, your voice sounds foreign. Never being so openly blunt and shameless. But you knew that Hoseok doesn’t care because he’s cursing under his breath, muttering a ‘fuck’ as he rakes his gaze over your body once more. Then, he’s pushing back his glass while he holds on to your wrist – dragging you out of the bar with him.

“W-Where are we going?”

“To fuck.” Your face is going red and the blood in your veins is bubbling from excitement. You were being careless and reckless and yet; you’d never felt so alive before. This really was your new life. And you could do everything you hadn’t in your past one. Hoseok has your hand firmly in his own as he’s pushing you in to a darkened alley next to the bar. The night air is slightly cool and people are still walking by once in a while to access the bar. In an instance, you’re pushed up against the brick wall, the rough edges digging in to your back harshly as Hoseok blankets your body with his own, towering over you. You’re breathing hard and watching his each move while he only places both of his arms on either sides f your head.

“Do you really want this y/n? Because this is your last chance before I have you the way I’ve always wanted.” And somehow, your breathing is getting faster as you stare at him expectantly.

“I am. U-Use me Hoseok. It’s what I want.” I want to feel like a dollar whore. I want your cum dripping out of me. I want to have your cock in my mouth until the day I die.

It was as if your previous self had been so deprived to the point that the new life you suddenly have made you a nymphomaniac as the default setting. Wanting nothing more than to do anything and everything to fill that deep ache you felt inside your soul and now your pussy. Hell, your previous self wouldn’t have even said any of these words even in your thoughts.

And Hoseok needs no more reassurance as he’s pushing up your skirt in a haste – in a public place, mind you, where anyone could walk by and see two figures huddled up against the wall – and then pulling down your modest white cotton panties that were now soaked.

“Fuck, you’re this wet already? I always knew you were so prim and proper to hide the inner slut in you. Weren’t you baby?” And all you do is nod slowly, watching him hitch up your legs as he settles them on his waist to steady you. All the while his eyes grow increasingly frantic, watching you tremble beneath him. In a way – he was also getting to taste the unforbidden fruit and you were more than willing now. Ready to rid yourself of your virtue that you’d held on to so tightly – at least in spirit.

“Answer me, y/n. Did you always want me? Hm? You always wanted my cock?” His voice is gravely and it sends shivers down your spine that’s perched up against the brick wall.

Something about letting a practical stranger like Jung Hoseok take you in such a public setting was so sensual and erotic to you that you were a mess between your legs, sticky arousal smearing the insides of your thighs as Hoseok looked down between you both. But to your surprise – he doesn’t open his belt buckle as you’d assumed he would. Instead – he’s pushing his hips in to yours, mashing his hardened length against your naked pussy and the breath is taken straight out of your lungs.

“H-Hoseok.”

“Yeah baby?” His hips have started to roll a steady rhythm against your soaked core and you know that he’s making a mess of his own slacks every single time he’s rubbing his cock against your sticky core. And affectively helping you get ever so close to that peak you’d been familiar with but never quite so intensely. Sure, you’d thought Sehun was good in bed but in comparison to whom? Hoseok wasn’t even inside you and you were a mess already. The pleasure so intense and concentrated that the noises that were leaving your lips were almost uncontrollable. As if no matter how much you’ll try; they’ll escape you anyway, painting the dim lilted walls of the alley with your breathy sighs and cries of Hoseok’s name.

A man who you were not courting nor were you even remotely romantically involved with. And saying his name over and over again only made you wetter knowing that fact. It was an act of defiance against your own beliefs and you were going to yell his name in ecstasy any chance you got.

“I need you,” your moan that comes out more as a whine only makes him smirk and push his hips harder in to you, pushing your back farther up against the rough brick wall as it grazes your back almost painfully. And you love every second of it.

“Need me where, y/n?” He’s fastened his pace, resorting to now just a quick grind of his hips in between your legs to deliciously put pressure on you bundle of nerves – almost never detaching from your hips at all.

“Ah! I-In me. Oh god. I-I’m-”

“Already? Such a hungry cock slut.” Hoseok tuts, eyes never leaving your face that’s contorted in a look of almost pain because of being so dangerously close to the edge. Your hands are clawing his back and his face is buried in the crevice of your neck, picking away at the threads that held your sanity close until each string was giving away to the carnal lust that flowed all throughout your body. You weren’t wanting to fight any sensation that you felt. But somehow, your mind still tried to fight off the impending orgasm despite knowing that’s exactly what you wanted. You wanted a release. You to let go. But Hoseok isn’t exactly making it easy for you. Because the next thing you know – he’s pushed you down on your knees until you were level with his hips and looked up hazily in to his own hungry eyes.

“You don’t get to cum so easily my dear y/n. Not after all these years I had to put up with your self-righteous attitude only to have your slutty mouth ask for my cock. You need to earn it.” He’s almost spitting out the words while he unbuckles his pants, the sound of his belt buckle opening and the sight of his veiny arms sending another trickle of arousal out of your pussy – panties still around your ankles and skirt still pushed up high.

Slowly, he’s fisting out his throbbing cock that has you gasping when you take in the length and its girth as well. He was bigger and wider than Sehun but a good few centimetres and the thought of his cock stretching you out terrified and excited you all at once. Giving it a few shallow pumps as he smears the pearly white liquid around his length – he eyes you expectantly, gesturing with his chin to come forward.

“Get to work babe. If you want this cock inside you – you better show me how much you want it.” Your eyes most look like a deer caught in the headlights because after a few seconds, Hoseok is cursing under his breath before he’s fisting your hair – only to tilt your face up harshly.

“Open your mouth wide, y/n.” And as if in a trance, you do. With one quick thrust – Hoseok is hitting the back of your throat, making you gag around his slightly salty cock.

“Fuck. Your mouth is a sin in itself babe. And you know I’m the biggest sinner.” He’s spitting out every word between clenched teeth as he thrusts his cock in your mouth again and again. Your jaw already starting to ache as it opened almost painfully wide to accommodate his length while he continued his assault on your mouth.

You’re trying to keep your breathing even and breath through your nose so you don’t faint. The moans that escape you are again – unstoppable. You’d never given Sehun head because he’d deemed it ‘disgusting’ and ungodly behaviour. And yet – you’d found him with his cock buried deep in his assistant’s throat. The act itself with Hoseok’s handsome face peering down at you – lips between his teeth and hands guiding your movements – you can’t remember the last time or anytime in fact, you’d felt this sensual. This erotic and sultry and just plainly like a whore.Giving this beautiful man head in a dark alley with your skirt bunched up to your waist and ass exposed to anyone who could be passing by.

And what do you know – you can hear steps approaching the alley and on instinct, you try to pull away. But it’s hard when Hoseok’s nimble fingers are gripping your hair so tightly to the point where it stings. And with every passing second, you can hear the steps getting closer.

Your voices of protest are muffled while Hoseok only chuckles above you. “You think I care if someone sees you with my cock down your throat? You need to know,” He’s moaning out before he continues, “that your place is on your knees – before me. Like the cock slut you always have been hiding under your granny panties and high collared shirts.”

You can only muffle out a moan around his assaulting member as he continues to fuck your mouth  while lewd, sloppy sounds fill the alley.

“F-Fuck. I’m going to c-cum babe.” His pace has increased and he’s frantically pushing his length deeper and deeper in your mouth while you try to suck on the tip of his engorged head as much as you can. And just when he’s about to cum – a voice all too familiar interrupts you both.

“Y/N? Is… Is that you?” You can hear Sehun approach the two figures he can probably only see vaguely. Your eyes shoot towards his direction and you know exactly the moment he’d recognized your voice and your form that’s sitting on the alley floor.

“Y/N!” Sehun has rushed forwards, grabbing your shoulders in a haste as he pushes Hoseok off of you. You’re sitting there with saliva dripping from your swollen mouth, eyes glazed over while Hoseok is only chuckling as he slips his hardened length back in his pants.

“How dare you do that to her?!” He’s roaring at Hoseok who looks like he doesn’t give two fucks about Sehun catching you with your mouth around his cock. He clearly had the wrong idea. Thinking you’d been forced. Just when you’d collected enough breath and reason in your mind – you push Sehun away forcefully while you walked towards Hoseok who was leaning against the opposite wall.

“Y/N…”

“What Sehun? What do you want?” You’re looking behind you as you walk towards Hoseok – completely throttled and thrashed with your skirt up to your waist – panties around your thighs.

“What in the god’s name are you doing?!” And you can only giggle as you start fishing Hoseok’s cock out of his trousers again – right in front of Sehun.

“Letting this man fuck my brains out.” You don’t need to look behind you to know that Sehun is probably looking at you shell-shocked. Never being able to imagine you this uninhibited and callous with your words. But you get a sneak at his face anyway when Hoseok is flipping you over so that your back rested against the brick wall again whilst he hitched up your legs to his waist again. And the thought that he didn’t care that Sehun was watching before rubbing the fattened head of his cock against your pussy all the while Sehun watched – only made your pussy gush.

You don’t remember the last time you felt this excited, this sexy when you’d been with a man. Not even Sehun who you’d considered to be the love of your life. But now you were finding out that you didn’t know any better and had no other man to compare him to. Of course you thought he was the one because your father approved of him.

“You’re going to go to hell for this y/n. For acting like a disgusting-”

“Slut? I know. I don’t give a shit Sehun. Now go away so I can get fucked in peace. Or don’t, I don’t care-ah!” Just then, Hoseok has pushed his girthy, painfully hard length inside you and Sehun is seething; disappearing from the dark alley just as you’re putting  a hand to your mouth to quieten your cries as Hoseok’s length stretches out your pussy. And he’s looking straight down between you two, watching the way the labia of your pussy stretches around his length.

“Fuck, your cunt is hotter than the 7thcircle of hell my dear y/n.” He’s cursing under his breath, taking in a deep one just as he’s sheathed completely inside you, letting you take a breath as you try to get used to the largest intrusion you’d felt inside you.

“M-Move Hoseok.” You wanted him to wreck you. You wanted him to take his pleasure from you and use you so much so it made up for all the years of being a fool made you miss out on sleeping with every and any guy you wanted to.

“Can’t believe you preached to us all at every general meeting when your cunt is hotter than hell. You’ve always been the hidden devil among us all haven’t you? Hm?”

He’s throwing your hand away from your mouth when you just muffle out your answer behind them with each thrust of his cock inside your channel. You’re so wet that a squelching sound accompanies every thrust inside and it’s making you pink all over.

“Answer me y/n. You’re a cock whore who’s always been hungry for it haven’t you? Yeah?” With each word, his pace had increased the sounds of skin slapping against skin were so loud that they even brought you back down to earth and feel a hint of shame. But the pleasure coursing through you was enough for you to cry Hoseok’s name over and over like a prayer you wanted to have desperately answered.

“Y-Yes. I love c-cock. I want your cock to t-tear me up. U-Use me Hoseok-” you hiccup as tears well up in your eyes, feeling the bulbous head of his hard member nudge your cervix again and again. The natural curve of his dick hitting each nerve ending inside you that you didn’t even know existed.

“Oh baby.” He’s clenching out between his teeth, “I,” A deep thrust, “will.” Another one that has you almost howling every single time he bottoms out.

You don’t know how he’s holding back after being on edge for so long but you can feel him get even more impossibly harder. Almost as hard as stone inside your velvety walls.  

“Fuck you’re so wet Y/N. Did Sehun ever make you this wet? Hm?” You’re pushed up against the wall with each punishing thrust that has a string of continuous moans falling from your lips.

“N-No. You f-fuck me so well h-hoseok.” It’s hard to speak but you love it nonetheless. Saying all the erogenous words out loud only made your pussy gush and clench around him harder.

“You gunna cum baby? You’re gunna cum for me?” You’re vigorously nodding your head while the tears escape past your eyes and on to your already sweaty and teary face while you sniffle away.

“Too fucking bad.” And just like that – he’s pulling out of you and pulling away so abruptly that you fall to the dirty floor in a heap. Pussy leaking with his and your combined fluids while he quickly tucks back his erection that almost look menacing now. You didn’t know why he insisted on torturing you both but you didn’t question it. Loving every second of your hedonistic and spontaneous sexual encounter.

“Come on.” He’s tugging you up on your wobbly feet and dragging you out of the alley. And when you try to pull down your skirt to cover your ass – he swats your hands away.

“No covering up. I want everyone to see what a whore you actually are. You want this to don’t you?” It takes you a few seconds to look at Hoseok’s smirking face and slowly; you nod. Letting him tug you out towards the parking lot – knowing that any passer-by – albeit it being almost 10pm – would be able to see your skirt pushed up with only your panties barely covering your modesty.

And just like that – Hoseok drags you over to his car; a shinny range rover. Pulling open the driver’s seat, he’s sitting inside and pushing back his seat slightly and then within seconds, pulling you on his lap to straddle his spread legs. Both of you are panting and both of you are staring straight at each other; consumed completely by lust as Hoseok gives your wrecked state a once over. He’s reaching out only to rip open the front of your blouse that had been buttoned up high – only to pull down the cups of your bra as your heaving breasts spring free.

“Fuck,” He mutters under his breath, groping the soft flesh between his large vascular hands, “Your tits are amazing. I want to suck on them all day.”

When you moan out in response, he continues, “You’d like that wouldn’t you? Maybe I can drop by to your office for a midday snack, huh? Suck these tits till they’re all puffy and swollen.”

“H-Hoseok. Please.” You’re desperate to reach your peak and now are shamelessly grinding against his hips to get some sort of friction. Hoseok’s bent forward with a nipple in his mouth, licking and sucking in the whole of you areola.

“Oh f-fuck. I’ll c-cum like this Hoseok.” And you were going to. You were so, so close you were about to lose your mind. Thankfully, Hoseok is opening his belt and letting you fish out his hard cock again and within seconds – you’ve taken initiative and impaled yourself on his hardened length.

“Fuck, you’re so hot baby. Just like that.” His hands have now found purchase on your waist as you start riding him like only your pleasure mattered. With the continuous teasing and the exhibitionist that Hoseok has awoke in you – your pussy was plenty wet and even overly so. Making deliciously dirty squelching sounds every time you slid over his pole again and again. Your rhythm increasing as your high built up again – and quite fast thanks to all the edging for hours.

“Yeah, fuck yourself on my cock y/n. Just like the dirty little cock whore you are. Aren’t you?”

“Y-Yeah. L-Love y-your cock.” You’re slurring your words as the car bounces from the sheer force of your pace as you ride Hoseok towards the sun. You could die a happy girl on his cock and when you look at his face that’s watching you like you’re the holiest thing he’d ever seen; you’re crying out your release while he thankfully gets the hint and holds up your hips, thrusting his cock inside you from below to push you over the edge completely.

“Fuck! Hoseok I-I’m-” Your teary face is looking at his own in panic while his hips frenetically push inside your gushing pussy.

“Cum on my cock baby. Let all your cunt juices go. I want to drown in your cum, fuck!” He’s growling and seething out the words as if he’s angry. Livid in fact and it only stretches out your orgasm further – as well as the hand that’s slipped between you both and now strummed your clit to almost a second peak while he chased his own high.

“Fuck fuck fuck I’m going to cum in your dirty pussy y/n. Can I? Fuck I’m n-not going to last. Please baby.”

Your teary face is weakly nodding while your head rests against his shoulder, body bouncing with every thrust inside your sopping and oversensitive walls. The hand on your clit that was incessantly rubbing was so close to make you cum again. And when Hoseok starts to slam your hips down on his lap – sticky and wet sounds echoing through the walls of the confined space in his car, flesh sticking to flesh – you cum once more and with a few more deep thrusts of his cock inside you – you can feel the spurts of his own cum flooding inside your walls.

“Fuck, I-I’m leaking out of you babe.” He’s watching between your bodies as the sounds get even sloppier with his cum overflowing from your pussy and back on to his cock – making a creamy mess between you two. And in that moment, you could only rest your head against his shoulder after having cum for the second time. Your body was worn and tired but your mind was buzzing in the aftermath of your rendezvous. Hoseok looked as beautiful as ever with his golden skin shining with perspiration while he caught his breath – caressing your behind almost lovingly. Love.

That’s not what you were after right now. In fact, even just thinking about it made you want to forget about the whole concept of it all. And when Hoseok looked down at you with a raised eyebrow – you just quietly lean back against the steering wheel, letting him have a look between where you two were joined again.

“Can you f-fuck your cum back in to me?” your sultry tone and your incredibly filthy question catches his off guard for sure. But it’s not even a minute later that he’s ordering you again.

“Turn around y/n. Let’s see that ass bounce.”

And of course, your new self in your new life is more than willing to oblige. Today was the day you had thought you’d died – only to find that you’ve come alive.

a/n: yay or nay? let me know!!

[ohhicas]

Question: The scene in kh3 where Ienzo tells Riku about Even's dissappearance, he mentoins that Dilan and Aeleus searched for him. Aeleus doesn't say anything (sadly), but does he also looked concerned for you? Bc if that might be really the case, then Aeleus must have a caring nature in canon.

┴┬┴┤( „• ֊ •├┬┴┬

did someone say Good Boy Aeleus 

I went off about this once kind of already but I’ll cONTINUE ON FROM HERE cause before I kind of just took over an ask

You mean this look, right? The one that followed his slow headshake? every time I look at screencaps I just realize how off model I’ve gotten with my art lmao I gotta get better at like, not doing that

I know I’m trying to read the expressions off a fairly preset character model since he doesn’t do much besides squint, pout, and walk away and a lot of this is conjecture but I took it as a self-frustration? A type of concern, for sure. Ienzo’s line (using the Eng translation here cause I don’t know enough of the term nuances to pick apart the japanese/version differences like I did before) really seems that Aeleus and Dilan looked everywhere for him, which is kind of adorable in itself. I hope they went through every one of his old Somebody haunts even if they all woke up in the labs/offices going by the DDD cutscene of Ienzo & Aeleus waking up with Lea. Someone check the bedroom, someone check Ienzo’s bedroom. Scour the library corners. Carefully sneak out of the castle go to check Radiant Garden’s libraries and buildings. Try to find a way to ask the FF Crew if they’ve seen Even running around yes yes ok yes they were all presumed dead like 10 years ago and nobody ever found the bodies please stop screaming and calling them ghosts they have a Mission here. 

(Dilan out there peeking under a table and when he looks up Aeleus is standing there like ???? “YOU DONT KNOW, BUDDY. He could have come back Not Right and gone into hiding like a scared raccoon.”) 

BUT YEAH, THAT? That’s a Caring move for sure, he could’ve easily just been shown to keep his head high and face as stern as ever with a short curt shake ‘no’. I also still believe his turn away and pout move when Ienzo is on the phone with Sora over ‘Roxas’ is another sign of a canon caring nature– it’s not the type of care generally considered, but a guilt kind that toes into that samurai character theme he’s set with? He (possibly, we’re back in hypothesis town) feels bad about what his Nobody self did, because Aeleus would never just backhand a 15 year old hard enough he nearly KO’s just to get his crisis move activated. There’s Rough Training, and then there’s just Nobody level crude (there are several Very Good posts out there about how the backhand thing was taken in the wrong way entirely by some anti-Lex fans, or those who think very highly of Roxas and don’t want to see him hurt. They’re good reads over a good boy if you have the want and while I may not be 100% completely on board with the wording or writer’s ideas they’re still very good and will give you something to think about to come to your own conclusions) so he still feels bad/upset at himself for not being able to like… stop himself? In the same idea that Isa is upset at his Saix side, for what he did to Lea. That kind of thing. 

also part of me really just thinks Aeleus has this face that just constantly looks like he’s fighting back 23423 emotions and it ends up making him just look like a bulldog; permanent :( face

I think it’s the eyebrows

ANYWAY, GETTING OFF TOPIC I THINK 

He has so few speaking segments really outside of DDD & his little bit in CoM which I already went over in the first link that anything I say really is just me grasping at thin straws to try to form a full character so I feel bad using a whole lot of headcanons and things of the sort but I’d really put him up there as one of the (ex)Orgs who has the biggest caring/helpful themed heart. Obviously characters like Lea, Roxas, and Xion win hands down for biggest helpful/caring heart (though I can easily argue those three elsewhere); they had the most and arguably best writing for that sort of thing throughout every game they were in, while the others have selfish or endlessly curious ones. Which isn’t a bad thing! None of that is a bad thing. I’d personally put Isa in the category of selfish/curious over Helpful/caring, for example, and I love that dumb jealous boy. Ienzo & Even’s hearts are full of a pursuit of knowledge and curiosities more than an honest open attempt to help or save/protect someone. But like, I can be 100% wrong here, we just don’t know a lot about some of these people. As far as we know, though, Aeleus’s “drive” is just… Guardian. 

He’s an apprentice of Ansem, one of his ‘best students’, so maybe curiosity could be there? But we’re unsure what ‘best student’ means, it could just be in magic, which could be pointed towards the Guard/Protect. It could mean the science/heart research lean! Which would put him hard into the Curiosity side. It’s very, very hard to like… put this in words. All we’ve seen him do is protect others, apologize for not being able to protect, (beat someone in the face in a way that teaches them how to learn to protect themselves because he’s concerned, possibly, but for sure mentions that you can only really trust yourself in the Organization which is WORRY-CODED) and possibly be visibly ‘upset’ to the extent of his character model and samurai themed personality type over failing to find/protect others. He’s so “I Greatly Care For My Companions and Others” coded (to me!). 

HE IS

A GOOD BOY

[kae-karo]

[1] hi!! so idk if you've seen dan speaking at the mental health panel or not, but there was one part that hit me really hard and id love to know your thoughts on it! basically he was saying that often content creators, and people in general, are struggling with their mental health the most when it seems like they're thriving (uploading constantly, getting good grades, etc) but everyone thinks they're fine. which is literally my life rn but i can't take a break from overworking myself bc i need

[2] to get into college. do you have any advice abt how to provide for my future while still taking care of myself? also, i just want to thank you for running such a healthy and positive blog bc it has helped me thru some difficult times, and you seem like such a thoughtful and caring person!

hi dear! oh no :( I'm so sorry, that's such a hard position to be in - I havent been in school for a few years, and not in high school since 2012 yikes lmao, so I'm sure things have changed a bit but hopefully I can still give some advice that helps?

I'd say first and foremost, talk to a trusted adult you know in person about how you're feeling - whether that be a parent, older sibling, favorite teacher, advisor, etc. they may have advice more specific to your situation that might take into account details I dont know. and while this is my first piece of advice, it can also be the hardest? sometimes facing our demons and being honest about them with others who have only seen our "good side" can feel impossible, but it can be a crucial step to help build a support system that you can go to when you feel you're struggling

the next thing I'd say is, on a small scale, start taking time for yourself. I know that's like. the hardest thing to do when you have like 6hr of homework a night, minimum, plus clubs or sports or other activities that take time, but literally even sneaking five minutes between some bits of homework to do something that's calming and centering for you can make a difference - if you can grab five minutes to go sit in a space you feel comfortable, away from your work, to breathe and think about something other than your work, that can be helpful

the next one is sorta like. tangential, but take care of your body as well - you're still a growing and developing human, so this is ESPECIALLY important, but drinking lots of water (and not too many sugary drinks/chemical drinks) and eating veggies and getting enough protein can literally make such a big difference in your brains ability to function at it's best. the other important thing here is sleep - every body is different, so keep in mind what your body does best on and (when you can) aim for that. between hydration, good nutrition, and sufficient sleep, you're laying a foundation that can help your brain be more successful throughout the day

I wish, ultimately, i had a perfect answer for the fucked up school system (esp in America which is what I'm most familiar with), but it honestly sets you up to fail. what (unintentionally) worked well for me was having a blow-off class or two - classes that were easy for me (like sign language, or French 1 after I'd already taken Spanish for several years) and could help boost my GPA without stressing me out as much. if you can find those classes- and definitely look for the ones that are easy for YOU, don't just ask around for the easiest classes - that can be a really nice break in your day and help relieve you of some after-school stress

here's another "honesty is the best policy" situation - if you find yourself struggling to understand a concept, or homework is taking you so much longer than some of your peers (or the teacher says theres only an hour of hw a night and you end up spending far longer on it) talk to the teacher! tell them you're struggling, and ask if you can get some help understanding a topic. be specific about what you dont understand (dont just go "I dont get it") and explain your thought process - this can help teachers understand where you're veering off the path and what you might be missing. and, more importantly, if you're coming in for help, they're more likely to be lenient with you because they know you're trying (yes I'm aware that was more a "school help in general" bit of advice but in case that's something you're struggling with)

now heres....maybe some controversial advice. take calculated risks. example: if a teacher has a policy where they drop your lowest homework grade in a class and you're doing alright in that class, but you have a day where you're saddled with WAY too much work for another class where you're struggling, it's okay to say "okay, today I need to go to sleep by 10pm, I can either finish this difficult homework or complete homework for the class that will drop a grade", sometimes it makes more sense to skip that one homework and get a zero to spend time dedicated to the class you're struggling in and get rest. in a similar vein, there is also a limit to studying - there is a point where you physically cannot absorb more knowledge. it is so much better for your brain - both from a focus and memory standpoint - to get a little extra sleep than to stay up late studying well past the point where you will retain knowledge.

now....again, I havent been applying to colleges in ages so my advice might be a bit stale, but colleges tend to look for good grades but also challenging classes, or improvement over time in classes, etc etc. they want to know you're working hard, and that you have diverse interests. college apps are a bit like resumes honestly, except you cant lie about your GPA. but like. you can fluff everything else. literally EVERYTHING becomes fair game with college apps. you can talk about fanfic or a fandom you're in if you phrase it the right way, like there are barely rules lmao. and you can make yourself sound very appealing

so my advice would be basically this: work hard, but learn your personal limits. figure out how much sleep a night makes you feel awake and focused the next day (again, it varies!) and aim for that as much as you can. try to eat nutritiously when you can, and drink lots of water. dedicate time to your homework and studying, but be sure to take regular breaks and ACTUALLY shift your brain away from your work during those breaks. and it's also good to dedicate time to life activities - like I said, colleges want to know you're a diverse person. spend time in clubs you like or playing sports if that's your thing, or do things unconnected to school. and remember, you can fluff that all up on a college app! but also remember - you have to live with you for the rest of your life, and there are so so many paths to a good job or a college education if that's what you decide you want, be sure to prioritize your health as much as you can. the education system tricks you into this never ending cycle of "if I just push through ___________ I'll get to ___________!" and taking that through your life can be really challenging and exhausting. I need to acknowledge that some of this is easy for me to say - I was a good test taker in high school, I went to college, and I bullshitted my way through (that's a whole other story lmao) but like. I need to acknowledge that, by some privilege and luck, I do have a college education. so when i say this next thing, please take it with a grain of salt, but there is more to life than chasing what society tells us to chase - there is family, there are friends, relationships, hobbies and interests and love and dreams and spending hours playing video games and SLEEP and getting sunburned cause you spent too long out under the sun photosynthesizing and collecting pens or shiny rocks and ANIMALS there is so so so much in life and I hate with such a burning passion that, for the first 22 years of our lives, we are told the ONLY thing in life is getting through college, getting a degree. again, I need to acknowledge that I say that with a background of privilege, and that education can help people get out of bad situations, etc, but there are many paths to education and they dont all require you to put life on hold to get there

let me tell u a story real quick, cause my education looks (from the outside) "easy" (turns out I had depression and eating disorders of all kinds yeehaw !!!!). my sister did NOT have an easy time in school - my parents could afford it, so she had a tutor for some of her challenging subjects, but she also dealt with anxiety and depression the entire time. she didnt get into the college she wanted to, but got put in a sort of program where, if she got good enough grades in some community college courses, she could get into the school. so she worked her ass off, dove even deeper into her mental health issues, but eventually did get in. and then she had challenging classes and didnt have a great support system, and she ended up failing out of many of her classes, to the point where she got put on academic probation. so she took a year off, got a job at a daycare, and I have literally never seen her happier or more well-adjusted. shes going back to school now, for early childhood education, and working part time at the daycare while she takes a light course load at school

another story for you - my aunt graduated high school and went straight into the workforce. she came from a dirt-poor family and couldn't afford it. she bounced around a bit, but eventually found company that she worked well with. they paid for her to go to school, and she finally got a degree many years after what we would consider "traditional". she had a few other jobs, but shes been at her current company now going on 20 years, has been through several promotions, and works directly with a c-suite employee. she is also the only woman in her office, a very traditional trucking company where she works with engineers on a daily basis

there are many paths to education, if that's where you want to go, and it's okay if it ends up looking different from the traditional path were told to follow. do what you can to avoid sacrificing your mental health for an education - if its what you want, you will get there. and remember to ask for help along the way!! I hope that helps a little, dear

[fmdsohee]

older, wiser, prettier

date: various, december 4th 1998,  2001, 2006, 2011, 2018 word count: 2170 triggers: emotionally abusive parenting, neglectful parenting, general shitty parenting, underage drinking,  forced drinking, abandonment, general terrible family  notes: me?? being literally like twenty fucking days late on her birthday solo ( it was meant for dec 4th but whatever i dont give a shit ) ?? yes, of course because indeed, i, am terrible, in fact, this is terrible and none of y’all should read it, i’m only posting it bc i won’t let myself not do it.

1998, age one. she spends her first birthday crying.

she was never a quiet baby. when she was first set into her mother’s arms by the nurses, she was crying; she cried through the nights from when she got home into the empty estate. her room is white, adorned with lace and silk, toys and it looks like a showroom – the perfect “socialite’s first baby room” for her mother to giggle about to her friends, show off as she barely takes a glance over the infant dozing in the bed. adjacent to her parents’ room, close enough to be heard, far enough for her not be seen, like most of the problems in the son family.

“come on,” it’s two in the morning, her mother, usually polished and a gushing smile on her face, was tired, “i don’t know what’s wrong with you.”

“she’s hungry, i don’t know, why don’t you feed her?” her father was skulking in the corner, head in his hands as she slumped over in the pristine rocking chair in the corner of the room.

“i already tried, she’s not hungry – she always does this, i don’t know what to do.”

“then work it out,” he lights a cigarette in the corner of the room, drawing in and out without a thought, “i don’t know what you want me to do – move her into one of the other rooms, i would like to sleep – do you think creativity stems from this? do you think i can write another best seller if i never get any sleep? what do you expect from me – you can’t keep walking around pretending you’re even something without money rolling in; even your body’s gone after her.”

her mother didn’t even react to his words – it was normal. “as if you’re the peak of creativity – you’ve been writing the same thing for years.”

“as if you know anything, you’ve made a living of being on your back.”

“i’ve made a living out of working hard, unlike you, how about you actually release something if you’re such a bestseller and stop pretending you’re some starving artist locked away in your study.”

“i’ll stop locking myself in the study when the baby’s gone and you’ve decided to stand there and look good again, quietly.”

“oh, but you’re fine to get yourself out of the room when the cleaner comes over, or the cook, or any of the other young women that seem to come and go a little richer than their contract.”

“shut up,” her father grumbled, “not exactly like you’ve held up well.”

“how about w-“

the two were cut off by the loud cry of their daughter.

“i’m leaving.” with a few slams of doors, her father left.

and her mother was alone, eyes shifting around the sickly room to her daughter.

“you better be worth it.”

and she left the room with her daughter crying out, far enough that she didn’t have to think about her for a second.

2001, age four. she spends her fourth birthday on stage.

she’s been dressed up like a doll: the dress is bright pink, puffy and encompasses all of her; her face felt tacky, sticky, and was covered in heavy makeup; and her eyes can barely stay open. she’s spent the hours of the morning walking around in circles, her feet ached, and she’d made a picture perfect routine.

before she could walk, she had been in beauty pageants, her mother was trying to shill her to industry connections to get her into ads and modelling jobs; sohee hated it. she screamed at her mother, she cried all the time, but it didn’t stop it, so eventually little sohee learned to deal with it.

her friends had teased her relentlessly the days before, playing in the park with wide smiles ( sohee hadn’t even noticed her father had sulked off instead of watching her ) before they started poking fun at her for not having a birthday party; they didn’t mean it, they were young, barely enough to know anything but they’d all been able to have parties, so why not her? sohee had ran home, tugging at her mother’s dress, and she just shook her head. she woke up on her birthday early to practice, nothing else was new.

she smiled, she twirled, she sang, and she got some stupid crown at a no name beauty pageant.

she went home a winner, and her mother yelled at her for her foot placement.

2006, age nine. she spends her ninth birthday lost in the woods.

her father’s writing process was something he called an art, it was something that her mother called stupid and a waste of time, sohee never even noticed any sort of backwards routine before her ninth birthday. one of his writing rituals included packing his bags, getting on a plane and flying out to a woodland cabin across the pond to “cleanse his thoughts” and that time, much to his dismay, chipper, young sohee was along for the ride.

she’s gleeful the entire way there, and it gives her father a headache, but she doesn’t notice. the car’s silent apart from her remarks as it always was. he didn’t have much to say to her, but with what ran through his mind it was better that way. she doesn’t know how to communicate with the people there, she knows how to ask basic questions and greetings, but when her father has short conversations with those they meet at pit stops, sohee stands there by his side wide eyed and confused.

the house isn’t the rustic, cold and damp place that bleeds information as he pretends it is – it’s a vacation home, without a doubt. and when they walk in, it looks like the type of extravagant place that families in movies sohee’s seen come to get together for christmas celebrations before slapstick chaos. but when her dad went into his office and slammed the door, she felt so cold.

she spends three days sitting around the house, flicking through magazines and watching dvds that she’d packed with her. and then her birthday rolls around, and it’s more of the same – her father’s locked away in his office smoking up a house fire and barely touching pen to paper and she’s pacing around the house pouting and crying that she hasn’t heard happy birthday once.

the hands on the clock hit five and little sohee decides that she’s had enough with all of this. shoelaces hastily tied, a backpack stuffed with her favourite stuffed animals for company and snacks for the trip – she decides that she’s going to have an adventure by herself if no one else wants to have fun with her.

it’s a few hours before she realises that she has no idea where she is, and the cold air starts to brush harshly over her skin. she’d not thought to bring any sort of torch, or even a warm jacket, with her mind clouded for a want to simply do something cool – and now she’d been trekking through the woods into the breaking hour of the night. and she was scared.

she’s out there for around three more hours, sitting herself atop of a log crying before by luck a group of hikers come by her, patient with her lack of understanding, and comfort her before leading her back to her father’s house without a hitch. she’s so thankful, she tries her best to talk to them, she exclaims that it’s her birthday in the best way that they can understand, and she makes it back inside. she tries to get them to stay, but they just smile at her, and wish her a good night – they try to speak with her father, but he doesn’t even answer the door.

cold and exhausted, sohee decides to end her birthday as quick as she can when she gets inside.

her father checks on her to say one thing,

“why did you track mud through the house? can’t you do something right?”

2011, age fourteen. on her fourteenth birthday, she decides that she’s grown up.

her parents decide to make some ill fated attempt to go to dinner on her birthday, but she doesn’t care, the most acknowledgement she gets of the day is that her mother makes some offhanded comment about how many years she’s been suffering because of her. in all truth, sohee’s happeir that they’re out of the house – she skips going to her training that night, she calls it a gift to herself.

so she does what she thinks the grown ups do, she reaches up to her father’s liquor cabinet and she pours herself a comically full glass of whiskey – it’s her first drink, she just wants to feel cool, grown up, independent. she takes one sip and she decides she’s done, and then she sets the glass down coughing up the fire in her throat.

“what are you doing?” her mother’s voice cut through the air, and sohee’s heart skipped a beat.

“nothing,” sohee dismissed, curtly, her chest pounding with anxiety, “i thought you’d be gone for the night, i believe you said that you couldn’t stand the reminder of me being born, or whatever.”

“doesn’t seem like nothing,” her mother hummed, glass now in hand and examining it like something priceless, her gaze practically cutting through it back through to her daughter, “your father was getting along with the waitress, i left them to it.”

that didn’t even dignify a response from sohee, who instead huffed, shrugged, and returned to a point of apathy.

“drink it.” her mother sits the glass in front of sohee. she’s confused.

“what?”

“i just said drink it, you poured it, and you’ll finish it.”

“i don’t want to – it tastes shitty, and you can’t tell me what to do.”

“i can,” her mother is completely unbothered by sohee’s argument, “want your tuition paid? want to continue to live somewhere? you’ll finish it.”

“i can’t,” she knows she can’t, she already feels sick to the stomach.

“i didn’t raise a quitter,” her mother’s tone is harsh, firm.

and so sohee drinks it, raises the liquor that burns like fire to her lips and takes a drink. but it’s not enough.

“the entire thing.” her mother states again.  

so she does, it’s every drink makes her feel sick to her stomach – it’s an overwhelming type of sickness that she’s never felt before, her stomach a ship at storm, and then she runs off to the bathroom. she barely catches her mother’s content smile, before a sigh.

she spends the rest of the night curled over the toilet.

2018, age twenty one. it’s her first birthday as an idol.

she doesn’t really celebrate birthdays anymore, ever since she spent the fifteenth birthday holed up in her school library – which she considered the best day that she’d had up until that birthday – acknowledging it just felt better to her than acknowledging she was an entire year older.

but she turns around in the morning, eyes barely open and her hands reach out for her phone.

━━ [ 💌 pretty flower sooyeon 🌺 ] : my sohee!!!! ━━ [ 💌 pretty flower sooyeon 🌺 ] : happy birthday~ ━━ [ 💌 pretty flower sooyeon 🌺 ] : i hope your wishes will come true and u will have the greatest birthday ever!!!!!!!!!!! ━━ [ 💌 pretty flower sooyeon 🌺 ] : lmk if gold star ever gets too much 4 u and u need 2 hide in the wish dorms i'll call u my emotional support human

she smiles, she doesn’t quite know how to respond to the message – and she notices that there’s more notifications behind it – she rarely ever told people the day she was born in high school to avoid any hype around it for bad memories sake but now, her chest feels gentle, and she’s smiling from ear to ear. she makes a note to respond to it later, when it’s processed for her.

so she walks out into her kitchen and she sees seunghee standing there, a huge, motherly grin on her face that she’s grown to adore seeing on her close friend. “what’s got you smiling like that?” she questions, pacing around the room.

“i have something for you,” the leader shifted to the side, a dainty, well decorated cake sitting behind her on the counter. “it’s for you, a you’re getting old signal,” she laughed, bringing over the cake to be in front of sohee, “i’m only kidding, happy birthday.”

the leader rushed to shove a candle into it, “i know we’re going to have to go soon, so i’m going to do this now,” she lit it up, “now make a wish.”

it’s the first birthday cake she’s ever had, and she doesn’t quite know how to approach it. so she doesn’t make a wish, but instead she just smiles and blows out the flame.

it’s her first happy birthday

.

[ssoheartbreak]

.

i have my stupid benefits review up in september and I’ve just started to freak out about it like 3 months early and I hate it

i legit wanna vomit when I think about it bc of how stressful and anxiety inducing it was the first time, not only that but like what if it’s not just like the first time what if they’re asking if ive been trying to get help and sort myself out and I have to be like yeah I tried and the meds didnt work and I tried again and they didn;t work so I tried a third time and then when I was due a refill the doctors office had incompetent staff so I never got an appointment with my doctor and then the anxiety stopped me from actively speaking to my doctor since I wouldnt get a call and had to initiate it, and then i was thinking oh well my sisters wedding is in august and how the fuck am I meant to take my meds on a plane and then take them daily without my family knowing so I said fuck it ill go off my meds for 7-8months until that’s done with

so like what if they ask that and it’s not good enough, and I need to go back to the weekly job search and shit and what if it’s so bad I get taken off benefits entirely and then the other side what if I ham it up to try and keep where i am bc im a fucking mess and they fucking section me

oh and to top it all off im growing an abandonment fear so thats nice :) constantly doublechecking everything I say so I don’t push people away bc god knows how I can cope without friends as a distraction, nvm me crushing but being like “haha nahhhh cause they have so much going on I dont wanna add to their shit by being a needy fuck, plus what’s the point nothing would change and would only serve to ruin a friendship so its better if I drink my feelings away” ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhu9ishofgwoesfmoisdmodfjopisdoijhnbficjzkm;lckhlgfjl