#went through several different stages of just “trust the process”

[crystallizsch]

saw something on the former bird app about ships in boxes and the voices took over so

[coff33andb00ks]

More Than Anything

oscar piastri x pop!singer reader x lando norris (with charles leclerc)

summary: In the spotlight's harsh glare, she shattered into a million pieces, then found redemption in an unexpected place warnings: language notes: complete rework of Until You because i wasn't happy with that that still follows the same premise and yes reuses a lot of the same things, but i promise it's different (better) - also a very special thank you to @driverlando for her help with this

Heartbreak and Hits: Y/N Y/L/N and Justin Bieber’s Rocky Romance Ends in Tears and Tunes

The whirlwind romance between pop sensation Y/N Y/L/N and global superstar Justin Bieber has come to a dramatic and emotional end. After nearly three years of ups, downs, and endless speculation, Y/N has finally confirmed their breakup in a raw and revealing Instagram post. The announcement comes just days before she’s set to kick off her highly anticipated world tour, leaving fans both heartbroken and intrigued by what’s to come.

A Love Story Born at the Grammys

Y/N and Justin’s relationship began in 2021 after a chance meeting at the Grammy Awards. The pair hit it off instantly, with insiders describing their connection as “electric.” Despite their undeniable chemistry, the couple’s relationship was far from smooth sailing. Rumours of infidelity, intense public scrutiny, and the pressures of their respective careers often overshadowed their love story.

Cheating Allegations and Cryptic Songs

As their relationship progressed, whispers of trouble in paradise began to circulate. By late 2022, rumours of Justin’s alleged infidelity started making headlines. While neither Y/N nor Justin addressed the cheating allegations directly, fans couldn’t help but notice the shift in Y/N’s music. Her lyrics became darker, more introspective, and filled with themes of betrayal and heartbreak.

Y/N’s 2023 album was particularly telling, with several tracks seemingly alluding to the turmoil in her relationship. While she never mentioned Justin by name, the lyrics spoke volumes. Lines like, “I gave you my heart, but you broke it in two,” and “Trust is a fragile thing, you shattered it with a fling,” had fans speculating that she was using her music to process the pain of her partner’s alleged unfaithfulness.

The Engagement Ring Mystery

In mid-2023, Y/N was spotted with what appeared to be an engagement ring, sparking a fresh wave of speculation about her relationship with Justin. The ring, a stunning piece with a massive diamond, was the talk of the town. Was this a sign that the couple had worked through their issues? Or was it a desperate attempt to save a crumbling relationship?

For months, fans and tabloids alike debated the significance of the ring, but Y/N remained tight-lipped, neither confirming nor denying an engagement. Their public appearances together became increasingly rare, leading to more speculation about the true state of their relationship.

The Bitter End

Early 2024 brought the final, heart-wrenching chapter of Y/N and Justin’s love story. Y/N took to Instagram to announce their breakup in a post that was equal parts salty and heartbreaking. “Sometimes love isn’t enough,” she wrote. “I thought we had forever, but it turns out, I was wrong. Moving on isn’t easy, but it’s necessary, especially when your partner does not respect you.”

The post quickly went viral, with fans flooding her comments section with messages of support. While Y/N didn’t go into specifics, her tone was clear: she was deeply hurt, and the breakup was far from amicable. The caption, coupled with the timing—just a week before her world tour was set to begin—left many wondering how she would cope with the demands of performing live night after night, while still nursing a broken heart.

What’s Next for Y/N?

As Y/N prepares to embark on her tour, fans are eagerly anticipating how this emotional rollercoaster will influence her performances. Known for her raw and authentic stage presence, it’s likely that the breakup—and the feelings surrounding it—will play a significant role in her shows.

Industry insiders predict that the tour could be a cathartic experience for Y/N, allowing her to channel her pain into powerful performances. “Y/N’s always been an open book with her music,” a close friend of the singer revealed. “This tour is going to be intense, emotional, and maybe even a bit therapeutic for her. She’s hurting, but she’s also a professional. She’ll pour all of that emotion into her music.”

While the world waits to see if Justin will respond to the Instagram post, it’s clear that Y/N is ready to move forward, albeit with a heavy heart. As she embarks on her tour, fans will be watching closely, eager to support her through this challenging time and to witness how her heartbreak will shape her music and her future.

Stay tuned for more updates as Y/N’s tour kicks off, and the next chapter of her life unfolds.

liked by charles_leclrec, landonorris, pierregasly and others ynyln: Merci beaucoup, Paris! Je t'aime et à bientôt!! ❤️💋

↳user3: why are f1 drivers here???            ↳ user4: a few were at the show            ↳user5: and she's always been vocal about being a fan ↳pierregasly: magnifique spectacle, rendez-vous à Monaco!            ↳user4: omg she's going to Monaco!            ↳ user9: FINALLY she gets to see a grand prix ↳ user8: almost 6 months in and each show gets better            ↳ user7: her breakup was the best thing to happen            ↳ user9: real ↳ user6: y'all seen the videos of the f1 guys?            ↳user7: my two worlds colliding

liked by ynyln and others f1goss: Charles Leclerc and Pierre Gasly at Y/N Y/L/N's concert in Paris!

↳user1: Y/N IN THE LIKES??            ↳ user2: Y/N follows 😭 ↳ynyln: omg 👁️👄👁️            ↳ user2: Y/N WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE            ↳ user3: she's so unserious ↳user4: i wonder if they got to meet            ↳ ynyln: no we didn't 😩

liked by landonorris, charles_leclrec, scuderriaferrari and others ynyln: For the first time I will be attending a Grand Prix! Vroom vrooms make my heart go brr. Eternally grateful to scuderiaferrari for the invitation. (They don't have to know my favorite driver is on mclaren)

↳scuderiaferrari: 🤨 ↳scuderiaferrari: we're sure you'll be a converted tifosi by Sunday ↳mclaren: y/n is our fan 🙏🏻 Oscar and Lando on cloud 9 now ↳f1: looking forward to finally welcoming you! ↳user1: alright y'all is she a Lando or Oscar girlie            ↳ ynyln: can't I love them both 🥺 ↳user2: great now I gotta watch all the grand prix stuff this week for a glimpse of mother ↳user3: why haven't you been before?            ↳ user4: tours, covid, j*stin...

liked by charles_leclrec, oscarpiastri, landonorris, and others ynyln: Dinner in Monte Carlo. Do I go all in on black or red?

↳ scuderriaferrari: red, obviously ↳ landonorris: black ↳ charles_leclerc: Red ↳ maxverstappen1: Black ↳ ynyln: all these blue check marks 😩 ↳ user2: yn stays forgetting she's the biggest blue check mark ↳ user1: not max joining in the mclaren vs ferrari fight for YN ↳ mclaren: Papaya 🥺 (but black)            ↳ scuderiaferrari: go comment on your own guest's posts            ↳ mclaren: you sent the invite after we mentioned doing it            ↳ landonorris: do better admin            ↳ mclaren: We'll get her next time            ↳ redbullracing: not if we get her first            ↳ landonorris: if not we're going on strike            ↳ oscarpiastri: we what ↳ oscarpiastri: I quite like the red ↳ user3: I love that YN asked opinions on her fit but it's just f1 drivers and admins fighting over her 🍿🍿 (liked by author)            ↳ ynyln: it's amazing right? no one's fought over me before            ↳ user3: bffr ↳ redbullracing: we vote blue            ↳ mclaren: that's not an option?            ↳ redbullracing: we still vote blue            ↳ scuderiaferrari: don't you have an energy drink to go sell ↳ user4: came for the pics, stayed for the f1 chaos            ↳ ynyln: giggling all the way to the restaurant honestly

note: I know it's not HUGELY different (yet) but I will be taking it in a slightly different direction. Also using Until You's taglist, so if any of you don't want to follow this just use the form to be removed please

Taglist:

@lichterfee | @formulaal | @a-beaverhausen | @dullypully | @wobblymug | @apollosfavkiddo | @callsignwidow | @saachiep81 | @midnights-lily | @waterlilypat | @kiwi43-81 | @fastfactory | @leodette | @calumthomcs | @landinhoe | @driverlando | @maxlarens | @d3kstar | @frenchyjuju | @warrensluvr | @tpwkstiles | @mcmuppet | @eveninggstar | @noooway555 | @bookishnerd1132 | @lorena-02 | @hiireadstuff | @theseus-jpg | @landoslutmeout | @ivy-34 | @trisharee | @colmathgames2 | @norrissainz33 | @littlegrapejuice | @spiderbeam

be added (or removed) to my taglist here

[brassrosepetals]

ash & honey (h.a. x reader) [III]

Part III: The Only Exception

Part II

A.N.// She's finally arrived. I know it's a little slow but trust the process. // title track

warnings: swearing, alcohol, sexual innuendos (i couldn’t help myself)

summary: Just before the 74th reaping

word count: ~3.4k

We would be spending reaping day on the train, looping back and forth between the Capitol and District Twelve. After meeting with the president, the emotional whiplash would be particularly brutal. 

By the time I woke up we were somewhere in Three, not expected to make it home until noon. Before Margot’s games Haymitch was required to attend the ceremonies by order of the Capitol.

Usually he would show up wasted “in protest” he said, though I was never quite sure what that meant. Likely it was in protest against the Capitol as a sort of malicious compliance, but a part of me believed he numbed himself in an act against his nature to get attached. He’d at least hoped that if he couldn’t remember their names as they were called then he wouldn’t waste any tears when they died. Unfortunately, this was never the case. 

Despite the walls he put up for the rest of Panem, I knew it was because he was too soft. Reapings were always a sore subject for him. Obviously they would exhume the long-buried bones of the person he was before his games and force him to confront his long-broken promises. Then there was the issue of the children, of course. Their faces as they were death-marched up on staged to be paraded around the country before being sacrificed made him sick to his stomach, but even worse were their families. He couldn’t help the way his muscles cramped and the blood drained from his body the way it did when he met me. Nowadays, he was asked to skip the reaping entirely when he had proven himself to be unpredictable at best, a liability at worst. 

I usually went with him anyway. Caesar— Snow, rather. Caesar preferred to avoid me when possible —liked to get an interview in when Haymitch would already be in the Capitol. Though his instinct begged on its knees for him to keep me as far away from the Capitol as possible, we both appreciated that I would be there for him at the end of the day when it was time to bury those bones once again. 

When the cool light of dawn splintered through the haphazardly drawn curtains, I lugged on leg over the other and rolled to the side. The one-size-too-small bed was cold where my personal space heater once was. I lifted my lids, eyes stinging from sleep and heart clenching with an indiscriminate fear that he was always moments away from being taken from me. Should I have pulled myself from bed and dragged my leaded feet to the bar car to find him absent, I might have begun to worry.  Instead I caught him struggling with a wax-covered bottle cap as he tried to medicate the budding migraine that always spawned before his first drink of the day.

“Happy Birthday, Haymitch.”

His head snapped in my direction, eyes wide at the intrusion of my voice. He was always edgy in the mornings, but today was particularly raw for all the obvious reasons. It had taken him an exceptionally long time to even tell me when his birthday was, and when he did it all spilled out against his will. He was so sad then, so utterly shattered from the inside out that he thought he would never be whole again. That was on our wedding day. It had taken me several years, countless conversations, and infinite tears to try and convince him to reclaim that part of himself. They took that day from him and he just let them have it. I knew how much it hurt, I didn’t mean to discount that, but it was the difference between rotting in the grave they dug him or clawing his way back to the surface in spite of the pain. After saying it about a hundred different times in a hundred different ways, he finally let me bring him home something small from the Hob before we were off to the Capitol. Then he started letting me make him something sweet in the mornings, muffins or pancakes. Only recently was I allowed to start saying the words, but no one else. He still preferred I didn’t tell anyone what the date meant to him— to us.

Once he caught his breath he softened the way he only does for me, the crease between his eyebrow conceding into something softer like cold wax made malleable by an approaching flame. As I approached him his hand subconsciously reached out for mine, both appreciating the gesture and needing to be grounded in the fact that today he was safe, even if he wasn’t twenty-four years ago. “Thanks, Y/N.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but he was trying. Every year it got easier.

The bottle clinked against the surrounding glasses as he put it back down on the bar. There are few he would abandon the idea of a drink for, let alone his first of the day. Instead he opted to use his now free hand to tug me closer.

“Forty…” I couldn’t help but tease him. It felt like it had been so long since we’d met. Since he moved in, since he’d saved me, since the wedding ceremony was broadcasted across the country.  Since Margot.

A scoff, “Don’t get too cocky, babydoll. We’re both getting up there.”

“I don’t turn twenty-nine for a few more months.”

“That’s basically thirty.”

“Thirty’s the new twenty.”

“Then forty’s the new twenty-five.” The shit-eating grin on his face could be felt through the firm press of his lips against mine, an apology for the teasing. He loved me, and he appreciated how much I cared, but I knew that he hoped his cheerful demeanor would distract me from the dark purple rings around his eyes and the shake of his hands as they left my body. He’d been up all night but he trembled the way he did when he was kept away from his vice. The only things know to have the sort of magnetic power to do that have been Capitol threats for him to look respectable and me. So, for the night it seems, he allowed himself to lounge in my orbit in hopes that his cosmic attraction was enough to repel the horrors of years past.

But I knew him, and nights were the worst. No matter how hard he tried, even with all the booze in the world, nothing would stop the moon from pulling the trauma from his heart like it pulled the tides from the shore. That must have been why he was out of bed so early, he was in too poor condition for me to see him like that. Not like I haven’t before, but he preferred I didn’t.

He’d been able to cut back a little bit since we got married, but his liver was still rebelling against him. Snow had him checked out almost every time we were in the Capitol, refusing to let him go so easily. I’d never tell Haymitch that I appreciated that, even if it was never meant to be a kindness. Several times they had caught something like poor lab results or tenderness where there shouldn’t be. He was on some medication. I wasn’t sure if he ever really took it. I could only hope that he would, knowing they likely gave him more time with me.

I tried to compromise with him, reaching for a Prosecco to celebrate. It seemed festive enough, but I could never get the damn bottles open. Ripping at the metallic covering like an animal at the bars of their enclosures and throwing the cage aside, I pushed at cork with my thumbs not even considering where I was pointing the bottle. He quickly put his hands in front of himself protectively, “Careful! That’s a projectile!”

“Sorry,” I giggled, “Can you get it?”

Snatching the bottle from my hand with a tsk and a mumbled “I do everything around here,” he pointed the bottle away from us, towards the bar, and popped it open. The cork went flying from the pressure of the carbonization and rocketing straight into a rack of ornate crystal glasses that were potentially older than me. My hands flew to my mouth, heart stopping for a second. They wouldn’t be mad, it probably wouldn’t even make it to Snow, but there was still a moment of heart-dropping, hackle-raising shock in the both of us. It was a moment before either of us spoke.

“Haymitch!” The word broke through all sense of urgency. Both of our faces broke out into involuntary grins.

“Fuck.” He laughed in long, rolling guffaws, switching the foaming bottle into his only dry hand and flicking the drops of golden liquid onto the carpet and my bare legs.

“Hey!” My body retreated from him as he looked my way, a devious look blooming in his eyes.

“What, you made of sugar?” He flicked towards me again.

“I don’t want to be sticky!” 

“But I like you when you’re sticky.” 

“Don’t be gross. And stop it! You love me, remember?!”

He wiped his hand on his pajama pants before hooking his arm around my neck, “Of course I do.”

We were able to scrounge up some orange juice amongst the broken glass and make Mimosas. They were one of my favorites, and he drank them for me even though he wasn’t one for a mixer. I was sort of tricking him into having something, anything with some nutritional value and I’m sure he saw right through me. Lounging across the grand, velvet sofas we soak in this moment of quiet joy. No cameras in our faces or forced chit chat, just comfortable silence and genuine interest in each other. I asked him about last night, he said it was hard. He asked if I had thought about what information I was willing to reveal about Margot. I said it was hard. We both drank. I had two and a half, Haymitch had five and the other half of my third. At least he’s getting some vitamins. Still, they hit me harder than I thought they would. He called me a lightweight and he was absolutely right.

Our little slice of heaven was interrupted when the door to our once private car slid open without a warning nor any consideration for our privacy. “There you are!” A high-pitched, Capitol accented voice sung before she even saw us, “Why did I know I’d find you here? What have you done to this place?”

“Effie!” I made grabby hands at her, my more-than-buzzed brain far too excited to see her. My body sunk an inch as I felt Haymitch deflate with an exasperated sigh that was small enough that he thought I might miss it. She was all done up, primped and preened to the highest order, once again raising her game from last year. A purple ensemble today, the same color I had told her she looked good in at our last meeting.

Sometimes I thought it would be fun to dress up like her. To sit in the make up chair for hours, chatting with my team and being blithely unaware of what exactly was going on under my nose. She must have been so happy, so free, so comfortable in her ignorance. More than anything, I wanted that for Haymitch and I: To be unconcerned with death and children and rebellion, sipping our coffee in the mornings in the fine China just to be bad this one time. What revolution? Why would we want to rebel against this luxury? And, more than anything, I hoped we would be comfortable in knowing that we did not want to be anyone else.

Her and I were friends in the most tangential sense of the word. It’s not like we ever went out of our ways to see each other, but we did cross paths a lot with Haymitch and I’s frequent trips to her side of Panem.  When we did, she at least seemed enthusiastic about our presence. I took it at face value, allowing myself to accept the prospect of an acquaintance, or God forbid even a friend, in the Capitol. Keep your enemies closer, right? Haymitch had some sort of history with her, though. He said he met her during his games, long before she started working as Twelve’s chaperone to the Capitol. He never went into too much detail, he didn’t even tell me until she started working with us a few years prior. I think, more than anything, she made him remember a little too well. So he pushed her away like he did most everything else. She was too close, too real, too Capitol, too much, and I certainly wasn’t going to push him to do any more than he was ready for.

Rather than greeting me with parallel enthusiasm as usual, she barely spared me a glance before locking eyes with Haymitch. “What have you done to her?”

His hands came up, proving he hid nothing threatening, “This was all her. She’s a drunk.”

“You’re drunk” I retorted, hand shoving at his face in retaliation with minimal effort. Without missing a beat he hit me back, hand coming down playfully at my mouth. “Hey! Effie, did you see that? That was abuse!”

Since we had been so graciously uninvited from the reaping— and I really do mean that, even if they wished I didn’t —There was no real reason for her to fuss. “I expected this from him, but you, Y/N?” She left the room with a shaking head, calling after us that “The tributes will be here shortly so look presentable Haymitch!”

I never dealt with the tributes. Frankly, I couldn’t handle it. Instead, I spent my time subtly trying to wean him off of the liquor. Very subtly, moving slowly and quietly as the moon across a nighttime horizon. If I was doing it right, he wouldn’t even notice the way I drifted across his sky, replacing the idol of his drink with the sandbag of my shoulder to cry on and hoping I didn’t trigger any booby traps or slow-rolling boulders along the way. Haymitch was their mentor and I was his, keeping him safe and sane wherever I could during the games. if there was any way I could shoulder even some of the responsibility that fell on the bar car, I would happily do it. So I helped him tie is tie, picked the pieces of fluff from his jacket, and made sure his hair was out of his eyes. 

His previously light-hearted demeanor dissolved over the next hour as he suited up for what would surely be another eviscerating reaping day. While he no longer had to watch the ghosts of his loved ones walk the square from his place on stage, he still had to face the children he was sending to an inevitable slaughter. It wasn’t that he didn’t try, because he really did try his best. He had to consider his tribute’s images when scouting for sponsors, but also his own. When Margot won, he had been missing in action for the first couple days of the games. That year he was too full of his grief and fear for the situation he had so carelessly put himself in to put the bottle down. He ended up in the hospital and by the time he got back, Capitol patrons thought he had finally learned some restraint and were more willing to hear him out. Since then, he’d be capitalizing off of that. The further he sunk into himself the more attractive they found him, a tall, dark, mysterious victor who many in the Capitol were not lucky enough to ever hear from. The thought of his grief being exploited in yet another way made me sick, but it kept my sister alive.

If nothing else I hoped my presence would remind him that it was only an act. I’d tell him that he is not defined only by the intangible holograms of the person he used to be. After his mother and his brother and after Lenore Dove, he became someone new. He became someone who frightened him, someone who was always angry and always drunk, someone who thought love was an illusion and vowed that he would never again be deceived by its smoke and mirrors. That was how he was when he met me. 

After he’d informed me of our arrangement I clung to him. It was the only way I could protect Margot then, so I made sure his story was believable. I asked him too many questions, stayed too close, and intruded too often. More than a few times I had been snapped at. At the time I would snap back. I didn’t understand his situation and I honestly didn’t care to poke around in his headspace to learn. At the time, I only cared about Margot. When he gave me his life's story there was nothing to do but be there with him while he tried desperately to hold himself together. That was the first major breakthrough we made, and by the next reaping we were practically forced together like we’d never been before. We had nothing to do but to stew in each other’s agony, each only having the other to lean on. It was then that we truly fell in love. We had to if we wanted to survive the feelings. Even though the circumstances were less than ideal I wouldn’t have it any other way. I know he wouldn’t either.

So, to keep him grounded, I would do whatever he needed. Whether that be whispering sweet nothings in his ear or muscling the destructive thoughts from his brain with tough love, I was prepared to do it. I was there to remind him that despite it all he was still Haymitch, he’d just grown up a little. I was there to keep him focused when he needed to be and to provide a safe space for him to break down when he didn’t. He asked so little of me while he gave me the world, and I would be damned if I didn’t do everything in my power to repay him. 

I stood behind him in the mirror, stretching to my tip-toes to hook my chin into the soft padding on the shoulders of his jacket and snaking my arms around his torso. Without thinking his left hand met my own and his right came up to cradle my face. His eyes were empty caverns, echoing with the prospect of another heartbreak. He was still, cool to the touch, and he was scared. My resolve strengthened and I knew he needed a push. If it were up to him, he would never leave this room and would lay in bed to rot until the flies and the maggots laid their claim. I would not let that happen.

“Are you ready?” My voice stayed soft and my thumbs made gentle circles over the raised scar on his stomach. I made eye contact with him through the mirror for only a moment before he looked away. He hated for me to see him like this.

“Yeah.”

“Look at me, baby.” He did as he was told, glancing up through his eyebrows as his head hung. “Remember to breathe, okay? In and out.”

With a slight nod of his head he sucked in a deep breath before huffing it out and falling back into thought. I put more pressure into my touch to keep him here in reality, in the present, with no way of knowing if it was working.

“We’re gonna be okay,” he finally said. We both knew he didn’t believe it, but that wasn’t important because he was trying and that was all he could do.

We barely had that. We had only a minute in a room that was just ours, in our ecosystem of complex and networking emotions that anyone else would disturb the delicate balance of, in a moment that was private, before we heard rapping at the door and Effie shouting that “The tributes are asking for you!”  

Part IV

[slayerkitty]

2023 in Review: Meta Edition

So I got tagged to do a moth-by-month meta review by a few people - @chickenstrangers, @lurkingshan, and @ranchthoughts. I wasn't sure I had enough meta or posts, but then I remembered Only Friends...

So I figured, why not?

January/February

No meta from me yet - was still lurking/starting to poke my head out and interact a little.

March

My Favorite/Most Popular: Dome is Jesus! So I've long said that my first BL meta was for La Pluie, and that's true. However, my first meta since I started watching Thai dramas was for Midnight Museum (which is, technically, not a BL). Thus we have my Dome is Jesus meta. And I don't think I was wrong? But he was also way more than that, lol.

April

My Favorite/Most Popular: Dome is one of the four Horseman of the Apocalypse. Midnight Museum season 2 WHEN?

May

No meta this month.

June

My Favorite/Most Popular: Dream loves Nara. HAHA, my first La Pluie/BL meta and it's about the GL side couple. Dream wore that red 'N' right over her heart on that sweater and since I've been to the @respectthepetty school of color, I noticed it right away. AND I WAS RIGHT.

July

My Favorite/Most Popular: Turtle Tai. My La Pluie meta where I over identify with Tai for several paragraphs. I have no idea if it helped others who were struggling with Tai get a better understanding of where he was coming from emotionally, but writing it was cathartic and I'm so glad @lurkingshan poked at me and said I should write it.

August

Most Popular: Let's Talk About Trust, Baby. One of my first Only Friends metas from early on, when the show was absolutely eating my brain. I had a lot of fun breaking down the trust dynamics of the characters.

My Favorite: Baby, Let's Try. My breakdown of the Let's Try OST MV (and Only Friends BTS videos) analyzing the different framing devices and effects used and what it might be saying regarding our larger group discussions on ephemerality in regard to the show. When I watched this MV and realized what was happening, I had to drop everything and write out meta and that was so much fun.

September

Most Popular: Narrative Frameworks in Only Friends (post episode 4). I ended up doing this weekly and it was so fascinating... until the frameworks went away. Why, P'Jojo?

My Favorite: Working with @jenyifer to figure out the story of the Only Friends end cards for each episode. It finally put the mystery of those moments to rest and figuring out where they originated or where they fight in the chronology of the show really added some depth to certain moments.

October

My Favorite/Most Popular: With the dramatics and exhausting reveals of the Red Peafowl casting announcements, I loved my reaction: Let's Just Stan the Fucking Bird. @blmpff mentioned fan club memberships and the Featherheads were born.

November

My Favorite/Most Popular: (Stages of) Grief in Last Twilight. I wanted to explore where Day and Mhok were with the grieving process. My only Last Twilight meta (so far?).

December

My Favorite/Most Popular: Narrative Choices in For Him the series.

Honorable Mention: my most noted post of the year, lmao, but not a meta - my second Pit Babe is trending post.

Look at me, I got all wordy from July through November, LOL. Here's hoping for more meta and more brain rotting BLs in 2024.

Not tagging anyone, but if you see this and you wanna do it, consider yourself tagged!!

[dreamescapeswriting]

Kinktober ~ Day 22

WORD COUNT: 0.8K

PAIRING: CHAN X GN!READER

GENRE: SMUT, blow job, stripper chan, no storyline

You felt your entire body flush as you looked up at your boyfriend on stage. Dressed up in what was supposed to be in a policeman's uniform smirking at you as he watched you in the crowd. 

"I can't believe you would even let him do something like this," Your judgemental friend muttered to you as you turned to face her. She had a disgusted look plastered across her face as you shook your head, not following along. 

"It's filthy, you let him strip in front of other people?"

"If it's how he wants to earn his money then so be it? What's the big deal, we used to do it." You mumbled to her as you threw some money onto the stage for Chan as he slowly unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing. You couldn't have been any prouder of your boyfriend for doing something he clearly enjoyed.

"It's different, you just know he'll sleep with his female clients?" You cocked your eyebrow at her as you felt yourself laughing at her. How could she believe something so stupid since it was against every stripper's protocol to sleep with someone who went to watch them?

"Trust me, Chan isn't sleeping with anyone except me," A devilish smirk clouded your face as your mind went back to what had transpired backstage right before your friend arrived.

"Shit, Y/n don't fucking stop," Chan's voice broke as he leant his head back against the dressing room mirror. His hands holding the back of his head as he helped guide your head up and down his cock. You hummed around him that you understood, staring up at him through your lashes.

Enjoying the way your boyfriend lost control with you between his leg, hand on his balls as your mouth took him as deep into your throat as you could. Pulling away for a second you ran your tongue up and down the entire length of his dick, watching as his lips parted and nothing but a strangled moan fell out. His hands tightened around you so you smirked, taking him back into your mouth and moaning as he twitched against your lips. 

"So fucking warm," He moaned out as he looked down at you, his eyes were dark as you stared up at him. This was your favourite part about his job, you would get him off right before a show or leave him begging for more. Tonight you wanted him to cum, you wanted him to be out on that stage thinking of you as he dance and stripped for everyone else. Leaving marks around his abdomen to let everyone know in the room that he was taken, they didn't need to know by who. 

"You're such a fucking tease," He grunted as he looked down at you, resting his hand on your cheek. Grunting as you moved your head faster around him, pulling away to suck on his tip. Letting saliva run down his length and drip down onto the floor. His name was being called out in the hall and he was due for stage any second. 

"Looks like you better cum," You smirked as you pumped him quickly in your hand, his hips thrusting as his hands reached for something to hold onto. Knocking several things from the dresser onto the floor in the process. 

You took him back into your mouth, moaning around his cock as he grunting. Beginning to slowly thrust his hips into your mouth, driving his cock deeper into your throat as you gripped onto his thighs. Nails digging onto him a little as you watched him, he was completely lost in finding his high and you loved it. 

"S-Shit, I'm close." He moaned out as his hips seemed to slow, you whined moving your mouth again. Bobbing your head at the same pace his hips had been moving, Staring at him as you began to suck a little. 

"Holy- S-Shit, Y/n!" His hands held onto your as he came into your mouth, the warm liquid hitting the back of your throat made you smiled. 

Sinking back onto your ass you looked up at him, wiping the corners of your mouth and smiling at him.

"Just you fucking wait until I'm finished tonight," He moaned out, cleaning off his dick with a tissue as you got up from the floor. Kissing him softly,

"I'll be out with my friend tonight, but I can't wait to get home." You breathed at him, kissing down his neck as he let out a shaky moan of your name.

"Have fun tonight," Chan said as he made his way to your table but your friend was staring at someone else on the stage. 

"I don't think we're going to hang out," You breathed getting up and holding Chan's hand. If your friend was going to be so judgemental about your boyfriends choice of career, you would go have fun elsewhere. Lords know you would have a lot more fun with Chan than you would have with her.

Tagline: @minholuvs @taestannie​ @sw33tnight​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @taeechwitaa​ @justbangtanthingz​ @stillwithlix​

[brachiosaurus-on]

Brachio, friend! Hello! How are you?

I know you are reading the High Republic books, and I have to wonder, has any of it given you the impression the Jedi of that time have a significantly different experience from the Jedi of the late Republic? I hear a lot of people implying that lately, but I don't quite buy it, and so I figured I would consult you.

Mon, friend! Hello! I'm well, thanks! How are you? I hope you don’t mind that I turned this answer into a bit of a rambling meta.

So, the short answer is no. Their experiences are a little bit different due to the circumstances outside of the Order being different, but I wouldn’t say that their experiences are significantly different until the Clone Wars start. The philosophy and culture within the Order is the same, and I can easily see the characters trading places or recognizing each other as Jedi. The biggest difference is the fashion.

I think that this perception may come from big differences in how they are presented.

The scope of the story is different. High Republic gives us a broad scope through several points of view; the Prequel Trilogy gives us a narrow scope through only a few points of view. The Prequel Trilogy only includes what’s relevant to either the fall of the Republic or Anakin’s fall (which eventually become intertwined themselves), and has a small cast of characters. High Republic has many concurrent and overlapping plots and subplots with twice as many main characters. The scope and focus of the stories are very, very different. You may have heard that High Republic suffers from having too many characters, which is valid, but the upside is that we get a very full picture of what’s going on around the galaxy.

The audience’s perspective is different. High Republic is told from the perspectives of Jedi who love the Order and enjoy the lifestyle. The Prequel Trilogy is told largely from the point of view of Anakin, who does not find the lifestyle fulfilling.

The structure of the story is different. The prequels are very plot driven and most of the story happens during important events; we see limited exposition, resolution, and downtime between major events. High Republic spends a lot of time in characters’ heads before, between, during, and after important events. There’s a much fuller picture of what these characters are going through and how they’re reacting to it.

The explanations of Jedi philosophy and internal workings of the Order are different. High Republic is very direct about explaining Jedi philosophy and internal workings, taking time to elaborate for the audience. The films primarily use Yoda to explain Jedi philosophy; Yoda does not elaborate and is intentionally indirect to encourage the audience to think for themselves. The films show some internal workings but are rarely explicit.

It’s also worth mentioning that the trilogies show us more ideal Jedi because they’re establishing & introducing the audience to what the Jedi actually are and using narrative foils for Anakin’s story. Because High Republic doesn’t have this burden, they have more freedom to write more relatable characters (slutty Elzar rights) with more common flaws.

Scope

In High Republic, the story is about the Jedi working with the Republic, all of the Republic. We spend time with everyone, and I mean everyone: not just the main characters, but the side characters, and the background characters too; the worldbuilding is very detailed. We see plenty of Jedi with differing skillsets, opinions, experiences, and the story gives the audience breathing room to get to know them. They have many moments that are irrelevant to the plot, but tell us more about the characters themselves. We bounce between several Jedi Masters, who each play a different role in the Order, several knights who each have a different experience, and several padawans who are at different stages in their training. We have a broad view of the Order. We also get into the heads of the Chancellor, the Nihil, different politicians, diplomats, civilians, scientists, business people, reporters, an event coordinator, I could go on; aside from the Nihil, characters outside the Order are working with the Jedi and operating in good faith. We also know that the heroes are in a game that they can win, we know that both the Order and the Republic survive this era.

The Prequel Trilogy gave us the same huge galaxy and world building, but we saw most of it in the background. It’s extremely focused on the plot and Anakin’s character; if it’s not relevant to the fall of the Republic or Anakin’s fall, it’s not included. Even some things that were very relevant to the fall of the Republic were cut in favor of things more relevant to Anakin. Because it’s mostly about him and we don’t get the perspectives of other Jedi very often, we have a narrow view of the Order. We only spend time with Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, Mace, and Yoda even though there are plenty of diverse Jedi in the background that we never meet. We see diversity within the Order, we know other Jedi are doing other things in other places, but we don’t interact with them until Order 66, when they become relevant to the story. We rarely meet other characters outside of their interactions with the main characters. The outside perspectives we see are Sith Lords, Padmé, other politicians, the Naboo, the Kaminoans, bounty hunters, crime lords, and a few civilians. Most of the characters outside the Order are working against the Jedi or operating in bad faith. We also know that the heroes are playing an unwinnable game, the Order and the Republic will not survive this story.

Perspective

In High Republic the audience is spending a lot of time with the Order and mostly seeing things from the Order’s point of view; we bounce between several different Jedi who all find the lifestyle fulfilling in different ways and the story is about all of them. The primary viewpoint characters have a broad, positive, perspective of the Order. When we’re reading from Elzar’s point of view we see his satisfaction when he uses the Force, how much he cares about others, how much he gets wrapped up in his own issues; when we’re reading from Stellan’s point of view, we see how much he loves teaching, how much he relaxes when he gets a chance to teach, how much he loves Elzar, how much he cares about the Order, how he wants to help; with Bell, we see how much he loves his master, we see him grieving, we see him reach these milestones where he figures out what it means to be a Jedi and how it frees him from his pain. The main characters actively participate in the Order’s community. Even when the characters are frustrated or upset with the Order or other Jedi, we know that they still love them because we’re in their heads and we get the characters’ full train of thought.

In the Late Republic, the story is told mostly from Anakin’s point of view. We see his frustration with the Order, his longing to be with Padmé, his desire for more power, his love overshadowed by his attachment. We see Anakin’s respect for the Order clouded by his disillusion (spurred on by a Sith Lord) and we don’t see him look outside his own perspective. We see him finding the lifestyle unfulfilling and not committing to it. The primary viewpoint character has a narrow, negative perspective of the Order. Another big thing is that Anakin is a Jedi who didn’t grow up in the Order and doesn’t have that inherent trust in the community, so we the audience don’t have complete trust in the Order. We see more of Anakin’s point of view than we do of Obi-Wan and Yoda who do reflect a positive experience. In the films, we’re in the room with the characters, not in their heads. We have to deduce what they’re thinking and how they’re feeling; we do not have the characters’ full train of thought.

Structure

The High Republic books have much more spread out pacing. There’s more exposition and we’re already familiar with the characters before they’re thrown through the narrative and then we spend more time with them afterwards. We get their reactions to major events and we see them struggle through recovery. The Jedi in High Republic have time to catch their breath, they are not moving from crisis to crisis the way the Order is in the Late Republic, and we are shown the time in between crises.

The prequel trilogy jumps right into the plot. We’re introduced to the characters briefly and we get to know them as they move through the plot. We don’t see much aftermath of major events, and we don’t see the process they go through to recover. They move from crisis to crisis and we do not see the time in between.

Here’s a summary of the different structures: High Republic shows us Reath, Bell, and Stellan all grieve in different ways and come to terms with their grief, but the prequel trilogy shows us neither Obi-Wan nor Anakin coming to terms with their grief over similar losses.

Explanation

The High Republic authors explain the philosophy of the Jedi more explicitly within their stories; they’re very direct. They also elaborate on what they’re saying for the benefit of the audience. I speculate that they do this to clear up some misunderstandings...

In the films, George Lucas prioritized concision and used Yoda to inform the audience; Yoda speaks in riddles to encourage the audience to think about what he’s saying. He speaks indirectly and without elaboration. 

If you don’t have a background knowledge of Buddhism (or at least mindfulness), it’s not terribly difficult to misinterpret the prequel trilogy because there’s so little explanation. It’s also a little difficult to balance that within a film and there’s more room to do it in the novels.

Internal Differences within the Order

The most significant internal difference is the fashion: High Republic Jedi have fancy formal robes in addition to their day to day robes. My personal headcanon for why this is different is that as time went on and the golden age faded, the Jedi became busier, and didn’t have as much time for the fashion anymore (which is tragic, I love the concept art for their fancy robes) and by the time of the prequels we see it only in the Temple Guards, or the Order decided to dress less extravagantly to show greater humility.

We get descriptions of different career paths within the Order. This is probably where it seems most different from the Jedi in the Late Republic, but I don’t see any incompatibility. There’s nothing in the prequel trilogy or TCW to contradict the existence of these career paths, and in fact I’d say there’s evidence to support their existence. I’ll write a separate post about these because it’ll make more sense with examples and this is already quite long.

There are some other things that are different, but based on external factors. There’s one line about how Jedi don’t get killed in the field often, masters aren’t killed leaving a padawan behind, that it’s just not something that happens. I think it’s supposed to tell us about the time period, but then it happens at least 3 times, so I personally take it with a grain of salt. There’s one bit about how lightsaber dueling is primarily exercise because no one else carries a lightsaber and no Jedi would ever fight another (apparently Anakin missed that memo) but this is consistent with the culture shown in the prequel trilogy when they’re blindsided by Dooku’s betrayal.

[bobfloydsbabe]

don't know if im allowed to send another ask after just sharing my dog with you lol but I'm gonna do it anyway!

What is Abby's creation story like? I know at least for me all of my OCs go through several iterations of names and faceclaims and backstories. So I'm just curious if Abby (in regular universe or the mob universe! you pick!) had a different name at one point/different faceclaim/different backstory that you would like to share?

Love you babe 💗

You're absolutely allowed to send me another ask. In fact, you're allowed to send as many as you want to, and thank you for sharing your Bear with me. He's a cutie.

This is such an interesting question. Creating OCs is a complex process, and while some come easy, others do not. We know that Abby has two iterations–original and mob universe. Here's a few facts about both their creations.

ORIGINAL ABBY

➳ Abby's original name was Remi, and I actually posted two fics for her and Bob with this name before I changed it. It just didn't feel right for her character, so after going through a whole list of suggestions from friends, I decided on Abby and I haven't regretted that decision in the slightest.

➳ Her middle name is Kyomi. It's a Japanese name that her mother, Lauren, chose to represent their culture-ish. Her mother is technically of Singaporean-Chinese descent, but as a fuck you to her family for disowning her after she got pregnant at 17, she chose a Japanese middle name for her daughter.

➳ Abby doesn't know who her father is, and her mother has never told her. She doesn't really mind. In the planning stages, she did have a dad, but it didn't feel right for the story.

➳ I always pictured her as being Asian, but it took me a while to decide what area of Asia she was from. In the end, Jessica Henwick was the perfect face claim for Abby, and her ethnicity informed Abby's.

MOB ABBY

➳ I toyed around with the idea of creating a new OC for the mob au, but I decided against because I didn't think it was going to be as big as it is now. I was just going to post that one drabble and get it out of my system. That obviously didn't happen.

➳ Mob Abby's mother died when she was seven, and not knowing who her father is, she was taken in my Warlock. He raised her as his own, but still somewhat removed from the organization. No one knows she exists, which is how she's able to be Bob's secretary and not raise suspicion.

➳ I knew Abby had an adopted brother (Warlock's son) and I had the hardest time naming him. In true me fashion, I went to my bestie who's infinitely better at naming people/things than I am, and she suggested the name Uriah. It's biblical like Solomon, so it makes sense.

➳ I have no idea if Bob and Abby end up together in this universe. I like to think they do, but they have to build trust from the ground up.

[taetaespeaches]

“I never would’ve thought Agust D would be so soft after sex.”

yoongi x reader (or oc) genre: smut; fluff word count: 3.1K

a/n: ok, so, Kid is ready to give Yoon that good good just after hearing like half the mixtape, our girl hasn’t even seen the damn mv yet guys, like, she’s ready to pounce after just seven songs from her man. And honestly, mood. I hope you lovelies enjoy this, I hope it lives up to your expectations lmao, and thank you for reading :))

YOU paced back and forth from one end of your kitchen to the other as you waited for Yoongi to answer his damn phone. I mean, seriously, how long does it take to pick up the-

“Hello?” Yoongi’s low voice interrupted your thoughts through the phone’s speaker.

Gasping, you eagerly asked, “Can I start listening?” omitting a proper greeting.

“Oh hey, I’m fine, how are you?” He teased.

You rolled your eyes, fully aware he couldn’t see you. “You’re expecting a lot of self-control from me right now, Min,” you complained.

Yoongi allowed himself to chuckle before responding with a humored, “if you want, you can listen, Kid.”

You squealed in excitement, bouncing around in front of the oven. “You’re sure? I don’t have to wait for you or anything?”

“Nah, I’m almost there anyway,” he told you, and you could tell by the tone of his voice he was grinning. “Just no music video yet,” he said in a whiny tone which you knew must be accompanied with a pout. He enjoyed watching your reaction to his music videos.

“No music video, I promise,” you smiled, absolutely fond of the man. “Oh my god, I’m not ready for this am I?” You yelled out, Yoongi scoffing in response.

“Jesus, you’re ridiculous,” he groaned.

“Shush, I’m hanging up, I have a long-awaited mixtape to listen to, thank you very much.”

“Ok fine, fine,” he laughed, but before you could hang up, Yoongi added, “Hey, Kid?” You hummed in response. “Love you.”

You’ve heard the words a million times, but it never failed to make your heart pound. However, that didn’t stop you from teasing him a bit. “Yeah, yeah, love you, I gotta go, priorities, baby. I don’t know if you’ve heard but the Agust D just made a comeback.”

He chuckled into the phone once more before giving you a, “See you in a bit,” and then hung up.

Immediately, you were pressing play on the mixtape on Spotify, already having had it pulled up for five minutes.

The first song, ‘Moonlight’, started off soft before scratching records came in, and then your boyfriend’s voice. When he gave his iconic laugh with an “August D” you smiled in pride. That’s my honey boy.

You turned your attention to the meal you were preparing for you and Yoongi, one of his favorites, stirring the contents in a big pot on the stovetop. Bopping along to the music, you listened to the lyrics that talked about his story, starting in Daegu to flying high with his group, how he goes through feelings of confidence in his work to feeling untalented, the struggles of writing this exact mixtape due to the pressure from a larger audience, expectations, and self-doubt. You knew those struggles all too well. You were with him throughout it all.

You’d been given glimpses of the songs throughout the writing process, some tracks in full while others you only saw lyric scribblings on those yellow notepads he leaves around his studio and that littered your apartment. You first saw the chorus to ‘Moonlight’ written on one of those notepads that sat on your bedside table.

“I like this,” you told your boyfriend, holding the notepad in one hand as the other found its way in his dampened hair, his face resting against your bare chest.

“Huh?” He looked up at you, his hand gripping your waist as his eyelids fluttered. The sheets were in disarray around your still nude forms. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, is it for D-2?”

“Maybe,” he told you with a yawn. “Not sure.”

“I think you should use it,” you told him, your finger outlining the shell of his ear as his lips curved into a lazy smile. “It’s beautiful.”

“You really think so?” He asked, uncertain and a bit more awake.

“Yeah, definitely.”

He kissed the center of your chest before nuzzling his face further against your breasts. “You always know best, Kid.”

You felt your eyes prick with tears as you listened to the song, feeling immensely proud of your boyfriend. Of how hard he worked, of overcoming the doubt and fear, and just simply for the talent, passion, and artistry he shared with so many people.

As the mixtape played, you went through phases of dancing around, squealing in excitement, gasping at lyrics and phrasing, and more bouncing and dancing. You tried your best to focus on the lyrics, though you knew it would take a few listens to catch them all as you were too excited to comprehend everything just then.

Completely invested in the music, you didn’t hear your front door open, unaware of your boyfriend’s presence until he appeared in your peripheral, catching you doing a little strut that resembled Yoongi’s swagger walk he did on stage. Your head snapping to him, you were met with his gummy grin, his shoulders shaking in laughter as ‘Burn It’ continued to play throughout the kitchen.

“Are you leaving me for Agust D yet?” He teased, walking toward you.

“Do you realize how sexy you are? Like do you have any idea?” You asked accusatorily. “Like what the fuck, dude?”

“Jesus,” he huffed, a smile still plastered on his face. “You’re actually ridiculous.”

“Yeah, and you’re ridiculously talented, Min. You’re not told that enough,” you told him seriously. Reaching you, he placed his hands on your hips as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, stepping further into his arms.

“I’m told that plenty,” he dismissed with a bashful grin.

“No, you’re not,” you told him as ‘Burn It’ continued to play. Instead of responding to you, he kissed you which you immediately deepened, Yoongi stepping back a bit by the unexpected force behind your actions, though his arms wrapped tighter around your waist so your body was flush with his.

Pulling away, he chased your lips, making you smile. “I don’t even have the words right now to tell you how proud I am of you,” you told him seriously, tears forming in your eyes. You watched as Yoongi took a deep breath, keeping his own emotions under control at your sincere confession. “Just know I’m really proud,” you said as tears threatened to fall.

He quickly nodded just before bringing a hand to your jaw as he caught your lips again, giving you several quick pecks as he composed himself.

Letting out a breath that sounded to be one of relief, Yoongi peered around your frame, inspecting the food cooking on the stove, as well as the food that had spilled outside of the pot, with a grin. “That looks good.”

“Hopefully,” you said with a smile as Yoongi nuzzled his face against your neck, refusing to let you go. With the overwhelming pride and love you felt, mixed with the fact that the man on the mixtape was all yours, and he was standing in your kitchen, in your arms, pressing sweet kisses to your neck, you had a sudden desire for him.

As ‘People’ started playing, you were instantly struck with the memory of coming to his studio as he was working on that very track. It was just the instrumental then, but it was interesting and different from the other stuff he had been working on. Yoongi must have been thinking upon the same memory as he lifted his head, a gummy grin directed to you as his eyes found yours.

“I remember the night you wrote this,” you smiled, biting your lower lip. That night, you had spent about an hour of it sitting on his desk as Yoongi sat in his chair in front of you, his chin resting on your knees as you both discussed your ideas of life, and people, and changes, and what it all meant, if it even meant anything.  

You had already been dating for well over a year, but it was a moment where you and Yoongi felt a closeness between you both that hadn’t really been there before, becoming more mentally and emotionally attune with each other.

The conversation eventually faded out, the intense feeling of understanding between you both leading to you having sex on his studio couch.

“Trust me, I remember it very well,” he chuckled, his mind running through every moment of that night, from the feeling of closeness, to the warmth of your body underneath his as he pressed you against the couch cushions, the way you moaned his name and whispered ‘I love you’s’.

As the chorus of ‘People’ sounded from your laptop, your eyes widened at the sultry soothe of your boyfriend’s vocals.

“Since when do you sing like that, Min?” You teased with a smile, your eyes bouncing around his soft features. As he let out a breathy chuckle, you slid your your hands down his neck to rest overtop his collarbones as you leaned toward him and kissed him deeply.

The action took him by surprise though he easily found his rhythm, his hands slipping underneath your shirt, feeling at the bare skin of your waist.

As you began backing up, he quickly felt around to shut the stove off before following you toward the bedroom, never breaking the kiss. Your hands found his waist as his moved to your face, taking control. You began lifting his shirt up, you both separating just long enough for you to pull it over his head and discard it somewhere in the hallway outside your room.

Eagerly, you unbuttoned his jeans, Yoongi helping you get the clothing off him as he released his hold on you to step out of them. Backing up, your legs hit the edge of the bed and you locked your eyes with your boyfriend’s. Smirking at him, you pulled your own shirt off before unhooking your bra and letting it fall to the floor at your feet.

Yoongi bit his lip, his eyes settling on your chest before slowly dragging them back up to meet your darkened gaze. Tilting his head at you, you quipped, “What are you waiting for?” Yoongi scoffed before approaching you and pushing your body so you fell against the mattress. He reached for the waist of your jeans, taking no time in unzipping them and tugging them down your legs, you lifting your hips to help him. Your panties were removed next, Yoongi dropping them to floor as he allowed his eyes to rake over your body, taking in every inch of you.

You sat up on your elbows, watching the man as he looked over your nude form. “For a man who brags an awful lot about being a king and a boss, you seem a bit timid, baby,” you teased in a sultry tone.

Your boyfriend scoffed again, a smirk forming on his lips. “Be patient,” he scolded, though he stepped toward you, nudging your inner knee with his leg, making you widen the gap between your thighs as he stared down at your center.

“My patience disappeared the moment I clicked play on that mixtape,” you smiled. “I want you.” With that, you sat up, your hands slipping underneath the waistband of his underwear, lowering them until they easily slid down his legs, pooling at his feet. You kept eye contact with him as you left a sweet kiss to his lower abdomen, just above his pelvic area.

He let out a quick breath as he smiled, lowering his body on top of yours, your back meeting the mattress. “If I had known Agust D would get you this worked up I would have released a mixtape two years ago,” he joked, your hands grabbing onto his sides as his lips found yours, kissing you passionately.

One of his arms was being used to prop himself up overtop you as his opposite hand slid down to your core, his fingers feeling between your legs. He groaned into your mouth at feeling how wet you’d become, and you smiled against his lips.

Not wanting to wait any longer, you used your strength to push against his body, rolling him over and straddling his hips. Yoongi’s breath was heavy and shallow as he anticipated being inside you, his large hands gripping your hips, his eyes eagerly taking in the sight of your form on top of him. He always did love you on top.

Placing one of your hands to his chest, your other found his hardened length. You stroked him a few times, Yoongi letting out a soft moan at the feeling, his hand sliding up your abdomen to your breast as he squeezed the supple flesh in his palm. At his touch, you guided him to your entrance, sharply intaking breath at the feeling of him slipping inside, letting the air out in a throaty moan.

“Fuck, Kid,” Yoongi breathed out, pinching your nipple between his fingers as you moved your hand from his dick to his chest, bracing yourself against him as you began slowly grinding atop him. Yoongi’s hand left your breast to your thigh, clutching the muscle as he bit his lip, watching your body move. “You’re so fucking hot.”

You held back a moan as you increased your pace, looking up to the ceiling before squeezing your eyes shut as he hit particularly deep. “Fuck,” you breathed out, lowering your gaze to Yoongi’s face, meeting his hooded eyes as he looked up at you in bliss.

His chest was like velvet underneath your hands and you wanted to feel more of his skin on yours. As if reading your mind, Yoongi moved his hands to your lower back, pulling you toward him so your chest was flush with his. He kissed you messily as he lifted his hips off the bed to move in and out of you as he held you to his body.

“I love you so much,” he confessed shakily against your lips, his breathing erratic due to the pleasure you were giving him.

“Oh my god, Yoongi, I love you,” you moaned, moving your face to his neck where you kissed and nibbled his skin lightly.

Wanting to treat him, you reluctantly pulled yourself away from him, sitting back up as you rocked back and forth on him, arching your back and placing a hand to his thigh to support yourself. Yoongi’s hands grabbed onto the sides of your legs as he watched you, looking more and more fucked out the longer you rode him.

Eyeing his thin but toned body, his smooth skin, and the flex of his abdomen as he took sharp breaths, you groaned. “You look so good,” you told him, admiring the man beneath you. Your man. All yours. “Feel so good,” you moaned.

One of Yoongi’s hands left your leg to find your hand that was pressed against his lower abdomen. He took your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours before bringing it to his lips and kissing your knuckles softly as he locked his gaze on yours.

The intimate action had your lower abdomen tightening. Sitting up straight, you brought your hand toward him which he grabbed with his other hand, helping you to support yourself as your motions atop him became hastier, approaching your high.

“Yoon, I’m gonna-”

“I know, baby,” he nodded, squeezing your hands as you neared your climax. “Me too.”

You let out a whimper, lowering your body to Yoongi’s again, your dewy chest meeting his, Yoongi wrapping his arms around your lower back as you both worked each other into your finishes. Yoongi buried his face in your neck as he let out small muffled grunts, you breathing out a moan in his ear. As he came, he hugged your body to his tightly, letting go inside you. The feeling of him releasing had you crashing into your own high, biting your lip as you moaned breathily, Yoongi kissing your neck sweetly as you came down.

You relaxed atop Yoongi, breathing heavy as his fingers toyed with the small of your back, soothing back and forth along the curve of your ass. You had a hand on his neck, slipping your fingers into his damp strands, your other hand on his chest, dragging your fingers along his pectoral.

“The mixtape is really good,” you assured him in a whisper, kissing his jaw. “Well, what I’ve heard so far.”

Yoongi let out a breathy chuckle, flattening a palm on your lower back. “Thank you, Kid.”

“No need to thank me, I’m just being honest.”

“No, thank you for always supporting me. In everything,” he clarified, emotion thick in his voice.

You lifted your head to peer at his face, catching the glassy shine in his eyes. “Always,” you assured him.

He nodded, looking at you with a soft smile. “I know,” he whispered, barely audible, giving away that he didn’t trust his voice, knowing it would break if he spoke louder. “It means- you mean the world.”

You lowered your lips to his face, giving his plush cheek a small kiss. “I never would’ve thought Agust D would be so soft after sex,” you teased with a big smile, Yoongi scoffing, though he couldn’t hold back his gummy grin.

He groaned loudly, stretching his arms over his head. “I’m starving,” he changed the topic, making you giggle.

“Well, lucky for you, your girlfriend made you a delicious nearly cooked meal that is probably very cold at this point,” you smirked.  

“Oh, lucky for me?” He questioned with a small smile.

“Mhmm,” you confirmed with a small chuckle.

Yoongi sucked air between his teeth, ticking his head to the side. “Remind me to wife you up later.”

You scoffed playfully, rolling off his body as you prepared to stand up and find some clothes. “In your dreams, Min.”

Scooping your t-shirt off the floor, you slipped it over your head before grabbing a pair of panties from your dresser drawer, all while Yoongi’s eyes followed your every move. Sending your boyfriend an air kiss from where he sat at the edge of the bed watching you, you walked toward the bedroom door. “Hurry up and get dressed, Gramps, I need your album commentary.”

You exited the room, turning toward the bathroom to clean yourself up. Yoongi shook his head with a chuckle. “Yeah, in my dreams,” he mumbled as he stood up to get dressed. Taking his sweet ass time, you walked back past the bedroom toward the kitchen, noticing him still stumbling around for a shirt.

“Hey, hustle, Min! I still have a music video to watch, my dude!” You called out to him as he looked to you with widened eyes. “Your shirt is out here, by the way.”

“Ah, what did I tell you about patience,” he whined out, a pout on his lips as he walked through the hallway, grabbing his shirt on his way, feeling full of appreciation and adoration for you.  

[ghostbustermelanieking]

some thoughts on mag 200

i’ve been having trouble articulating this, but i wanted to get some thoughts down on mag 200, and the ending of tma as a whole, now that i’ve heard the finale twice and had some time to process it all. putting this under a cut in case people don’t wanna see it -- there’s gonna be a lot of praise here, but also some legit criticism. this is a way to sort through my feelings more than anything else.

first off, relistening to the finale, and sitting on it for a while, has made me feel a hell of a lot better about the whole thing. the episode comes off a lot better when you’re not vibrating with fear and anticipation, in my opinion. the final statement was very fitting and cool -- not my favorite ever, but i can appreciate it a lot as a final closing for the fears. and i don’t have an ear for soundscaping but the sound in that statement was cool as hell. the jonah magnus gets fucking murdered scene is incredibly satisfying. a lot of other people have said this, but i love that jon finally got his revenge, and was able to lash out against jonah for all the years of manipulation and beng used, and for tim and sasha and everything else. that was perfect. i genuinely thought we might not get a scene like this after 193 but i am so glad we did. incredibly satisfying. the girls made it out!! i am very glad that they’re ok and moving on and seem to be leaning on each other. (By God I Will Wring Found Family Out Of This Podcast If It Kills Me.) and the admiral’s okay. love that

and the jonmartin ending. oh my god. while i was never the biggest fan of the possibility of martin having to kill jon, the way it went down was so painful and good. i loved that final scene. i love the ambiguity -- that they might have died but maybe they didn’t, maybe they’re all right and happy and we can decide for ourselves -- i love that i got exactly what i wanted, that i get to have my cake and eat it too, all the angst of a jmart death and still the possibility of happiness... i am going buckwild. i love it. the longer i spend with this ending, the happier i am with it. i really really loved it

on another note... i do have some reservations about the finale and the season as a whole. i understand peoples’ irritations with the finale, and while i’m trying to focus on the things i did like, i definitely have some irritations. for one, i definitely wish the finale had been longer. i would’ve loved to see more of what wtgfs and basira were doing, and the actual lighting of the archives, etc. and while i completely understand why the scene at the panopticon went as quickly as it did -- it comes off very much as wild, frantic impulse in the heat of the moment where they’re in danger and trying to protect each other -- i do wish it had gone a little slower. 

in my mind, the biggest issue in season 5 ended up being pacing. and this might be a personal preference thing -- there’s a lot of things within the show that i don’t personally vibe with, but i don’t necessarily think they’re badly written. but i do think season 5 was slow. and while slow things can certainly work in a certain context (season 4 comes off wildly slow til you listen to 160), i wish more of what actually happened in season 5 had been baked into the end game. the season felt like it had a lot of filler, which drives me mildly crazy, because the end game feels rushed and i don’t think it NEEDED to be. i liked a lot of what season 5 did -- there’s some impeccable episodes, the character interactions are weirdly lighter and softer than they have been in previous seasons, and i wouldn’t trade a lot of the things that it’s given us (all the jonmartin interactions, jon and georgie briefly rebuilding their friendship, martin and melanie friendship, wtgfs scenes and intimacy, backstory, lore, etc) for anything. but i do think it could’ve been structured and paced a little differently. i also think it could’ve given some more screentime to the character stuff we got from episodes like 161, 170, 186, 190, 191, 192, 199... i absolutely love both martin centric monologue episodes, but i hate that we didn’t get anything like that for jon. (or for melanie or georgie or basira...) the best episodes of the season, imo, are the ones that broke from traditional form of domain statement domain, and the ones that focused in hard on backstory, lore, character introspection, character interaction... i wish we had more of this. 

when it comes to the jonmartin arc... i know this has been a point of contention with a lot of people, but i don’t hate it at all. maybe it’s just because i relistened to the majority of the season back in january, but a lot of the more grating moments that seemed large week to week (martin pressuring jon to smite people, the disagreements they had earlier in the season, jon using martin as bait in 176, etc etc) come off a lot more minor when you’re binging. personally, relistening to act i made those interactions come off as things they were struggling with through continued support and reassurance. there were absolutely things i wanted addressed, especially with the “kill bill arc” -- the disagreements early in the season, and how it seemed to turn on its head in the argument they have in 194. (i didn’t like martin blaming jon for the kill bill arc and i was hoping it would get brought up.) i also wanted to see a discussion of martin going with annabelle in 194 -- i wasn’t really ever mad at martin for doing it, but i did want to see them talk it out. 

but! after relistening to 200, i think i have a better handle on why that couldn’t have happened. martin goes behind jon’s back to go with annabelle and they don’t talk about it; jon goes behind martin’s back to sabotage the plan everyone agrees on in order to prevent the fears from spreading. if they’d had a big talk about trust, and working through martin going off with annabelle, and then jon turned around and did the same thing, more or less... it would’ve completely soured that discussion. jon and martin needed to be in a place of discourse for this ending to work. 

honestly, the more i’ve thought about this final JM arc, the better i feel about it. sure, jon and martin are in a bad place, and they’ve gone behind each other’s backs and been somewhat selfish, but i don’t think this ruins their relationship. for one, martin’s break in trust comes from a place of wanting to save jon and the world. and for another, jon genuinely feels he is doing the right thing, making a decision he can live with. (i have my own opinions as to how ethical jon’s decision was, but that’s another post. and i think the muddy ethics of this ending are on purpose -- it’s horror, a genre that often doesn’t offer ethical decisions.) their final decisions and final moments come from a place of love and protectiveness, and they change their decisions for the other. they still love each other, through all of it. i don’t think these late stage betrayals equivalate jonmartin necessarily being doomed as a couple (not that anyone has said that, but it’s worth saying). and i think it’s important to remember that this is still a relatively new relationship. it existed for approximately three weeks before the literal apocalypse, and it’s been under an immense amount of stress, as well as the constant fear that one or both of them would die. (which they did.) i’m not saying that excuses certain things they’ve said or done, but i am saying i don’t think the relationship is doomed. i think, if jon and martin have survived, they’ll need to work through things. they’ll need to talk it all out. and they’ll be able to! they’ll heal from this one way or another. the tragedy isn’t that jonmartin is doomed, or toxic. it’s that these moments of betrayal are what dooms them. and the beautiful undercurrent of it all is that they still manage to come together, and make decisions that mean they stay together. and that wherever they are, they’re still together. 

all in all, i don’t think season 5 has been perfect, and i can make my peace with that. (tma’s worst is a hell of a lot better than most shows’ best.) (i also think it might be worth considering how covid could have affected certain aspects of how the season was written -- pandemics are stressful, and i can’t imagine what it’s like to finish an enormous, in the works for years project like this in the middle of that. personally, i’m impressed they’ve managed to finish the show through all of this and keep it to a similar quality.) i think critiques are valuable and worth discussing. and i think plot aspects aside, there are several other critique related things that could be brought up about this season that people have articulated much better than i ever could. but i also, personally, want to walk away from the show feeling satisfied. i tend to be weirdly positive about things i love (the x files finale was horrendous, but i managed to get to a place where i was happy with it, for example), and i think that applies here -- even more so because i really did love so many aspects of that finale. i don’t necessarily want to linger in my own mind over what i disliked, especially considering the show is over. although i did want to air out my thoughts. 

i still love this show. i loved a lot of episodes this season, frustrations aside. season 5 will forever be my only live tma experience, and it got me through one of the worst years of my life, and i am very grateful for this. i genuinely did just want to air out my thoughts and get them all down on paper. these are just my opinions -- i don’t want to criticize anyone who feels differently about the finale, or the season as a whole. everyone’s opinion is their own. 

i feel a lot, lot better about mag 200, to the point of genuinely loving it. i hope my appreciation only grows as i get further from that frenzied first day and have more time to sit with it. and i can’t wait to see all the art and read all of the amazing fics that are going to come out of this ending (and write some of my own). it’s been a wild ride. i’m glad i was here for it.

[nerdypanda3126]

Conceal and Reveal

This was written for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Fic Challenge. 

The rules are three 15-minute sprints with 24 hours for light editing, which includes new writing to smooth transitions or make it feel complete. I ended up adding about 600 words (is anyone surprised at this point? 😅) 

The prompt I used this time around was: Tan lines (although I went for the more painful cousin, sunburn lines)

And while I was writing, I started to consider this a prequel to Love Somebody Who Ruins Your Lipstick, one of the first sprint challenges I did. I always kind of regretted that I didn't show Luka actually putting the lipstick on her, or the conversation that they had that made Marinette realize *things* so, here it is. This can be read separately, but there's smooches in the other one, so....

Read on Ao3 

Marinette detransformed in a flash of pink light in an alley close to the Liberty. If she was lucky she’d be just in time for Kitty Section practice. She slipped a macaron to Tikki and ran, still blinking spots from her eyes from the akuma she and Chat Noir had defeated moments earlier. She’d had a blinding power, as bright as the sun, and it baked like the sun, too. Marinette had had several near misses with it, and as she ran towards the houseboat the wind stung against her face. She could only hope she hadn’t been burned too badly. 

She skidded to a stop in front of the gangplank and carefully climbed aboard before she realized that while she’d thought she would barely be on time… no one was there yet. 

A quick check of her phone found a group text postponing practice due to the akuma. Which meant she was an entire fifteen minutes early. Enough time to breathe and try not to be angry with Chat Noir for sacrificing himself for the millionth time. Enough time to try to scrub the memory of him disappearing in a flash of blinding light from her mind’s eye.  

She took a deep breath and it came out as a groan as she fell onto her usual cardboard box in front of the stage and covered her face with her hands. 

“Marinette?” a familiar voice called. When she peeked between her fingers, she found Luka kneeling in front of her, his concerned blue eyes trained on her. But they widened when he caught sight of her face. 

“Uh, Marinette? You’ve got…” He chuckled and gestured around his eyes. Marinette reached up to touch her cheek and winced as it stung again under her fingers. Luka glanced around at the empty boat before he stood and offered her a hand up. “Come with me,” he said, and pulled her gently over to the stairs that led below deck. 

At the bottom of the stairs, he paused and held up a hand for her to wait as he looked around. When he seemed satisfied, he led her to the bathroom on the side and shut the door behind them quickly and locked it behind himself. 

She didn’t have the energy to ask him what was wrong as he hooked his foot around the leg of a stool under the sink to pull it out and pointed at it for her to sit. When she had, he turned to a small linen closet and took out a black and purple makeup bag. As he turned back and saw her watching him, he chuckled again and gestured to the mirror and she was barely able to process that he wanted her to look at herself. 

But when she did she gasped and covered her face with her hands again, hissing in a pained breath as her bright red cheeks turned white under her touch. Only the skin around her eyes was left untouched—in the exact shape of her Ladybug mask. 

“Luka, I can explain—” she started, but he just smiled and started taking different bottles and sponges and brushes out of the bag. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said easily. “We can cover it up.” 

“But—” He was too calm, too collected. Why wasn’t he freaking out? She was definitely freaking out. This was an absolute disaster! And Luka was acting like… like he’d thought about it before. Like this was expected—normal, even. She tilted her head to consider him. “Did you know?” 

“Know what?” he asked innocently, but the corner of his mouth was turned up in a small smirk. “Hold still and close your eyes.” 

She huffed impatiently at him, but did as he asked and his fingers swept something liquid and cool over her burning cheeks. As soon as he was finished, she opened her eyes again and hardened her gaze. 

“Luka, seriously. How long have you known?” 

He didn’t answer right away, instead keeping his head down, the blue tips of his hair falling over what little of his face she could see as he searched through the bag for something else he needed. The stick he pulled out was seafoam green, and when he took the top off and twirled the bottom, so was the product inside it. She pulled back from him as he turned back to her. 

“That’s green,” she pointed out, a little bewildered. He laughed. 

“And you’re red. They cancel each other out. Trust me.” He gestured for her to come back to him and she did, albeit reluctantly. He held her chin in his hand as he dabbed the green product along the hard line of her sunburn, contouring it along her cheeks and nose as he went. When he set it down, he started feathering it with the pads of his fingers, and that’s when his eyes met hers again. 

“I suspected, I guess,” he answered finally. “It wasn’t anything solid, just a feeling.” 

She caught his hand. “You can’t tell anyone. Not even Juleka.” 

“Technically, I still don’t know anything for sure,” he said, chuckling. “There’s two people in Paris who might be having this issue right now. You could be either of them.” That little smirk twitched upwards as he teased her. But his words hit her sore heart and she couldn’t help but wince. 

“I’m not Chat Noir,” she said quietly. 

His hand lingered to cup her cheek and a beat of silence passed between them. “No, you’re not.” 

After another moment, he smiled sadly and let her go, picking up a bottle of a more skin-colored shade and squirting a bit on the back of his hand. They were both quiet as he started sponging the foundation on for her. She only noticed that a tear had slipped down her cheek when he brushed it away gently. 

“I saw on the news,” he murmured. “It must be hard.” 

She nodded, but if the lump in her throat was any indication if she tried to speak she’d only end up crying and ruining Luka’s hard work. 

“You must mean a lot to him,” he continued, “if he trusts you so much.” 

“I wish he didn’t sometimes,” she admitted. He nodded and hummed, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, he turned to switch products again, this time a white, shimmery powder and a fluffy brush. He ghosted it across her skin, focusing on her cheeks and nose before he set everything down and gestured for her to look again. 

She barely recognized herself. All she saw were tired, sad blue eyes in a mask of pale skin with pink cheeks. 

“Is that me?” she couldn’t help but ask. Luka looked in the mirror with her, then turned her face back to him gently. 

“Two more things,” he said, smiling, and she could’ve sworn she saw a thought flash through his eyes. Something he hadn’t meant for her to see. He dug in the bag and pulled out two things she finally recognized—eyeliner and a lipstick tube. 

He didn’t even have to tell her and she closed her eyes for him again, leaning her face forward blindly until his hand was cupping her cheek again. She felt him steady himself before the pen was on her eyelid. He drew soft, feathery strokes at first along her lash line, then winged it out on the side. She waited until he’d completed the other side before she opened her eyes and her breath caught. 

She hadn’t expected him to be so close. 

Apparently he had the same reaction because he chuckled nervously and drew back, then tipped her chin from side to side, checking his work. As he set the eyeliner pen down and reached for the tube of lipstick, she noticed his fingers were trembling. He had to take a deep breath and then he turned back to her with a crimson lipstick uncapped in his hand and a small angled brush.

He cleared his throat before he tapped the brush against the color, then gestured for her to lean forward again. She set her chin in his hand and watched as his eyes focused on her lips. As he followed their contours with the brush, only stopping occasionally to pick up more color. 

And as he stopped once more to admire his work, his thumb lingering in the hollow of her chin and his eyes catching on hers, still full of that same thought she couldn’t quite place.

“There,” he breathed. “Ready to face anything.”

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

2. twisted

The cartoon that came out of the machine was pretty as a picture, perfect in almost every detail, and had a bubbly, positive personality. But she was not what Joey had wanted Susie to become. (Set in an AU where Joey gets perfect toons from his freshly killed employees and STILL isn’t happy, the unpleasable bitch…)

“Progress report to GENT home office, Client; Joey Drew Studios.

With the addition of the new ink recipe to use in the machine, we have made an unbelievable leap in progress and have almost met our client’s expectations. What had started as a machine to mold life sized figures out of ink has now done things that border on being supernatural.

Although Mr. Drew seems unimpressed, even frustrated with the results at times, in spite of the fact that the models have come out identical to their cartoon counterparts.

The process of running the cartoon film through the machine for the figures to imprint on has been successful, but it looks like that unless someone goes through the trouble of making a short that only has ONE character in it, the machine picks what character it makes at seemingly random. That is our client’s complaint; that instead of being user chosen, the machine picks out which living, breathing, thinking ink models it makes at random. Upon working on this, if I were to be in the client’s shoes, I’d have several valid complaints regarding the machine and the models it created, but our client’s complaint… Is that the machine that doesn’t have a system that allows the user to pick and choose which model it makes yet creates a physically flawless model every single time, does not allow the user to pick and choose which model it makes. He never ceases to infuriate me.

On a sour note, there was an incident with the figure in the likeness of a character called ‘The Brute’. Upon its creation, it immediately went and broke our client’s leg in a very… well, brutal fashion too. But fortunately, it has not physically attacked anyone since The Cameraman figure was made as we have threatened to separate them if it keeps up that behavior. It still likes to insult people, and it still does things that unnerve me though. We’re hoping that the rest of the figures will be less violent and or creepy.”

Thomas clicked off the recording and sighed as he looked at the newly made report, there was no way he could submit this to his boss without someone sending in someone to make sure he wasn’t huffing in ink fumes and whatever the Studio workers smoked to consider any of this to be normal.

“Hey Tommy! I think I figured out the issue with the machine! Or rather, its fuel.”

The mechanic grit his teeth and turned to face his client.

“What? I wasn’t aware that there was a problem with it.”

“Why, Tommy, how could you forget? I’m talking about the figure deposit problem of course! Why did we get The Brute when we wanted to get Boris? Why did we get Cameraman when we wanted Bendy? The answer was so simple, why, it was even staring at us the entire time!”

“Uh huh…” Thomas did not look convinced. “And what was this issue?”

“The ingredients, the Ink of course! You simply can’t put blueberry pancake batter in an oven and be surprised when you get blueberry pancakes instead of blueberry muffins, We got those two knuckleheads before we got the real stars of the show because the souls used to make them weren’t fit to make those two, but the machine still did what it does best: made living cartoons.”

Tom had an uneasy feeling in his gut as Joey grabbed his arm and led him to the Ink Machine’s room. He felt like a sheep being led to the slaughterhouse, he KNEW what went down in there! He knew the other ingredients, not well, per say, but for long enough to judge them and their characters.

He didn’t shed a single tear when Sammy was used in it, in fact, he was rather pleased with the results before it started acting out like that. He and the music director were almost always at each other’s throats for one reason or another. If you asked him, the ex-musician was strange, rude, clearly mentally unstable, and sometimes even cruel. And even if he wasn’t, his physical health had declined so much over his time at the studio that it was obvious that he would die regardless of whether or not he was put in the machine. Feeding Sammy to that machine was an act of mercy, really, and even if it wasn’t, it served him right to become a- err, The Brute and have him put the former musician in his place- put his villainous ways to a decent cause. Now if only someone could ensure for a fact that The Brute would behave...

Now the other ingredient, Norman Polk, was a different story. The man was old, weird and kinda creepy. On the surface, the man was an ideal candidate. Like Sammy, he would die anyway and nobody would miss him when he did. But on the contrary, he seemed like he still had some good years left in him. And while he was weird and creepy, he had been those things in an oddly endearing way that most of the studio had either liked or tolerated enough to not be bugged by it. The mechanic didn’t know how to explain it, that man reminded Tom of a mysterious, mostly-estranged relative that shows up out of nowhere and was always there for you even if you don’t always see him. So when the man snooped too much for his own good and had to be silenced… Tom could never look the resulting toon in the eye, or in his case, the lens.

But the mechanic couldn’t deny that it needed to be done, after all, the former projectionist was far too nosy for anyone’s sake. Nobody who knows the secret of the Ink Machine (or rather, it’s unconventional secret ingredient needed for its ink) should be free to wander the studio and spill the beans.

And a feeling in his gut was beginning to tell him that that was why he was the next on the chopping block.

He had built it, he learned what it would take to make it work, he had done what it took to make it work, and it was working now; No more models that would only move a tiny bit before collapsing into puddles! No more off model models! No more issues aside from x, y, z… -No more reasons for Joey to keep him alive when it was now too dangerous to his business… 

A tiny voice at the back of his head told him it served him right. The creator of this unholy torture device would now be consumed by it, just like how the maker of the Brazen Bull was the first victim it claimed.

At this point, he was almost morbidly curious on who or what the machine would make him; would it poke fun at his past and make him that territorial junkyard guard, Canoodle? Would it ironically punish him for his greed by making him The Fat Cat of the show, Boswell Lotsobucks? Would it acknowledge that although he was a villain to the bitter end, he still tried to go clean only for demons to drag him back down his dark paths and make him into Charley? Thinking about it, any butcher gang member would be a good enough fit really.

He was a mix of relieved, disappointed, and horrified when he was brought into the room and saw the unconscious voice actress of Alice Angel strapped to a mobile operating table. Joey seemed to ignore his reaction as he proudly showed her off and began to monologue.

“Like Boris, Sammy was a musician, simple-minded, and was very loyal to those he considered friends until the bitter end. But what made Sammy more like the Brute then Boris- Aside from body type, obviously, was that Sammy had quite the short temper on him, one that got messed with often, and a tendency to hold onto a grudge that can’t be swayed away with a good meal or a bad joke… Just like our friend; the Brute.”

Tom stayed speechless as Joey continued his seemingly prepared and rehearsed speech.

“As for Bendy and Norman, well, it’s obvious that those too simply weren’t compatible in the slightest! Sure, they both have their mischievous sides, but that alone doesn’t make a man into a good imp… However, do you know who DOES have more in common with Mr. Polk? That’s right! A certain smart alec-someone who knows a thing or two about anyone, everyone, and everything whether he wants to or not. Someone with a darker, more jaded sense of humor than our little devil, someone who can lurk in the shadows, or in his case, ‘backstage’ for safety or to gather Intel, but be happy and proud to take the front stage when the need arises! ...Alright, I can see that Norman’s soul may have influenced the personality of our Cameraman, but at least he did it in ways that make sense to the character.”

The mechanic continued to stay silent as Joey continued.

“But the main point is: we know what to do to fix this little issue. If we want a main character, we need someone who embodies the soul of that character. And Ms. Campbell here said it herself; Alice is a part of her!”

“Joey…”

“Why, she’d be thanking us if she knew what was coming! This is a dream come true for her! She always seemed to be the happiest when she was singing our angel darling’s songs…”

As if he was snapped out of a trance, the mechanic pulled Joey to his face, gripping the animator’s arms tightly and shaking him up a bit.

“Joey! We can’t do this! Susie isn’t like Norman or Sammy. She’s young, healthy, and still has a lot to live for. Nobody would buy that she passed on from something out of the blue, or that she moved away without warning or telling anyone. Everyone in the studio loves her and talks to her frequently! If we do this, especially so soon, they will make the connection, and they will find out about this. It was bad enough when Norman went, imagine if someone as well loved as her went too!”

Joey just laughed and slapped Tom’s shoulder.

“Oh Tommy, all we need to tell them is that Susie got her big break and is Bringing Alice to life in ways never before seen! And to sell the illusion, also tell them ‘you know how those folks in Hollywood are with their schedules, always a bunch of busy bees.’ They’ll bite, you just have to trust me.”

“What if they don’t?” the mechanic argued. “What if they start snooping around and start to piece together what really happened to her?”

Joey’s smile wavered a bit, but remained steadfast.

“Well, we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we reach it. And when we do, we’ll have our answer!”

“Nnnnggghhh…”

Both of them shuddered when they heard the voice actress start to stir awake.

“I swore I used stronger stuff in her drink…”

“...Jo...Joey..? ..Mr. Conner..?” The voice actress’s real eye widened in horror as she looked around, and her voice wavered as she grew more and more frantic. “WHat’s going on?! Where am I- Why am I tied up?!”

“S-Susie! Everything’s perfectly fine my dear, you just need to calm down a bit and I’ll explain everything…” He subtly jabbed Thomas in the ribs with his elbow. “Tommy!” He hissed “Throw her in the machine already!”

The frightened voice actress began to struggle against her restraints while Tom hesitated. Joey shot him a glare as he strolled up behind Susie and put a ‘reassuring’ hand on the weeping angel’s shoulder.

“Joey, please… let me go… Don’t do this to me!” Tears were running down the woman’s face, her voice was soft and breaking from her stress. “Just let me go and I promise I won’t tell anyone…”

“Now, now, Susie, there’s nothing to worry about, yes I know this looks unsettling from your position… But you and Alice are going places, new, big places that most people only dream of seeing! You’re going to bring her to life in ways that will touch the hearts of generations!”

A flash of realization crossed her face.

“Joey… answer me this: when Sammy ‘died from untreated lung cancer’ did he actually die from lung cancer? And when Norman ‘died from a workplace injury’ did he really…?” her voice trailed off a bit with uncertainty before asking her third question. “Did their deaths have anything to do with those two toons that showed up?!”

Her questions were not answered by words, but with actions as the two men stuffed her into the machine. When it turned on, her screams echoed throughout the mostly empty studio, chilling all who heard them to the very bone.

When they finally stopped, the machine whirred and roared to life and Joey rubbed his hands together in glee as he watched the machine work its magic.

Thomas, on the other hand, stood in silence while staring at his hands as dread and guilt sank in his gut.

The former man’s smile fell into a look of confusion when he saw a pair of gloves with ‘X’ marks on them come out, followed by arms that connected to them. That look of confusion fell deeper into a frown when he saw the arms stretch, curl, and twist when the gloves reached the floor as if they were streams of ice cream coming out of the machine at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Alice didn’t have arms that curled and stretched, but Joey knew a certain demoness toon who did; Miss Twisted. He was cursing under his breath, of course it would complete their little trio before giving him what he wanted! Now he wasted his one shot at getting Alice!

The rest of the toon didn’t even get out of the damn machine, it was like she was taunting him by continuing to stretch her arms and let them continue to coil in piles on the floor instead of showing him the finished product.

Furious, he marched over and grabbed the toon demoness’s arms and yanked her out of the damn machine.

“Stop messing around!” He scolded before pausing and reapplying his signature smile. “Your friends Brute and Cameraman have been worried sick about you ever since their creation! You wouldn’t want to keep them waiting for you any longer than they’ve already been, right?”

He could’ve been imagining it, but he swore that she had a look of pure terror on her face before she put on a fake smile of her own. And was it just him, or was this Miss Twisted’s left eye slightly discolored, glassy looking, if that made sense for someone with pitch black pie-cut eyes. The grayer eye she had reminded him of Susie Campbell’s fake eye.

“Y-yeah! You’re right!” She pushed Joey out of her face, clearly uncomfortable by his staring but pretending to be perfectly fine. “I can’t keep my boys waiting for too long, who knows what they’ll do?” She chuckled nervously. “So… where are you keeping them? where are they hiding?”

“Tommy here will be happy to show you, just follow him and-”

“Thanks!”

The demoness chipperly chirped and swiftly yanked Thomas out of the room at a speed that almost insulted the man.

[concussed-to-pieces]

Late July

Fandom: Kingsman: The Golden Circle

Pairing: Agent Whiskey [Jack Daniels]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit explicit.

Summary: Upon hearing about you from Tequila, Jack Daniels seeks you out with a full set of emotional baggage to work through. You happily oblige, helping him craft a scene that just might grant him some peace of mind. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @wrestlingfae @cookiethewriter @culturalrebel @jackierey09 @crookedmoonsaultpunk @duker42 @agirllovespasta @nelba @pedrosbigdorkenergy @lestrange2703 @youmeanmybrain @luvley-shadow @theocatkov @miscellaneousjunkk @reluctantlyresponsibleadult @buttons-beads-lace @gooddaykate @lackofhonor

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains consensual non-consent (surrender play), light domination, roleplay, unprotected sex, frank discussion of safe words, usage of safe words, dirty talk and light bondage. Remember that fanfictions are not research and that you should never engage in any activity if you do not trust your partner. Stay safe!]

There was just something about you that put people at ease, and Ginger Ale noticed during the interview process. "You have a gift!" She had praised you, her smile unexpected and bright. "I can see why Tequila recommended you for this position."

Granted, being the 'head of first impressions' at a distillery that was actually a front for a secret intelligence agency had its ups and downs, but you enjoyed the work and (if you were honest) the exciting interactions with the Statesman agents. 

Tequila, of course, would practically drape himself across your desk as he regaled you with (hopefully) exaggerated tales of his heroics. The two of you were sexually involved but preferred to keep each other at arm's length out of the bedroom, neither party particularly keen on surrendering your freedom and committing to anything serious at this point of your lives. You admired his dedication to Statesman, and he in turn respected your desire to have a successful career. He also was blatantly mooning over a certain analyst.

Ginger Ale was quieter and sharper than Tequila, her dry humor a joy to witness. She was the one who had done your interview, and she had given you the full behind the scenes tour once your background check went through. She was beautiful, charismatic and smart as a whip. You hoped to one day be as self-assured as she was.

Champ tended to keep to himself for the most part, though you had encountered him several times in the past when he dozed off in a certain chair at the end of a sunlit hallway. The elderly man was like an old tomcat, you decided, able to prowl but more than willing to take it easy.

Whiskey was often away managing the affairs of their New York headquarters and as such, was the one that you interacted with the least. He would come breezing in at all hours, a slow smile and a wink directed your way before he would saunter past. The rare occasions that he engaged you in conversation were nerve-wracking, as you were a little starstruck due to the glowing accounts both Champ and Tequila had given of his prowess in the past.

Ginger Ale was a bit more down to earth, thankfully. "He's just a man who's lost a lot, and his reasons for wanting to change things for the better may not be entirely altruistic." She had informed you concisely when you queried about the origin of one Jack Daniels. You had picked up on the veiled sadness in his dark eyes, the age that seemed to weigh him down that wasn't entirely related to years.

So when the aforementioned Statesman agent had drunkenly expressed a certain desire to you at a company party, you couldn't hide a little spike of curiosity. Mainly because the two of you interacted so rarely. Hell, you wouldn't even call yourselves friends. Tequila must have told him about your side activities.

"Ever since I lost her, I can't fuckin' bring myself to raw anyone else." The confession had come out of left field, but you had done your best to play it off like it was normal. Lord knew you had done enough paperwork in your career at Statesman to understand that agents would just kind of…say things thoughtlessly if they believed they were in a safe environment. A hazard of the job.

"What do you mean, Mr. Daniels?" 

"Call me Jack. Jesus, I ain't that old." He had hiccupped sharply, grimacing. "I just mean I...it's like a mental block. I wanna', I'm excited about it, and everything's fine until I try to come and boom. Python shrivels up like a damn salted slug and I'm left holdin' the bag tryin' to explain myself." He stared into his glass, looking pensive. "Real mood killer."

"Any idea why this might be?" You had prompted, leaning against the bar and idly scanning the throngs of people around you. It wasn't every day that so many of the company's rank and file rubbed elbows with the higher-ups, but you had to assume these economic mixers were what had kept the company (and intelligence agency) on such an even keel. It was a grounding experience, a way to remind the suits of their humble beginnings.

He scoffed out a breath. "Oh I know exactly why. When I lost her, I...we had only learned a little while before that she was havin' a baby. We'd been havin' a rocky time and we were actually thinkin' of breakin' up, but that news…" Jack had tilted his head to glance your way, his brown eyes distant. "If I hadn't gotten her pregnant, she wouldn't have been out shoppin' that day, y'know?" A sad smile had quirked his mouth beneath his mustache. "My fault."

At the time, you had made a noise of sympathy and gone to lay a hand on his arm before you could think better of it. He, instead of shrugging off your touch, actually ended up twining his fingers through your own and giving your hand a light squeeze.

Agent Whiskey's past was a shadowy affair in the Statesman organization. Though to be fair, no one really asked anything about anyone. Ginger Ale reasoned that the less people knew, the safer they and Statesman were in the event of a security breach. 

Anything you learned from any of the agents, you tended to keep close to your heart. It was your nature to gather useful information and foster trust for a rainy day. That personality facet had served you well as you had climbed the ranks from intern to head of first impressions, and knowing that you were someone that could be counted on to hold your cards close put many people at ease.

Including one Agent Whiskey.

"Tequila said you were good at helpin'. I'd be much obliged if you'd consider takin' a crack at my sexual baggage."

...

"Alright so for your words, you've decided on 'sixth' as your 'yes I'm into this', followed by second for 'slow down but don't break character', first for 'slow down and do break character' and finally neutral for 'full stop'." You tapped the customary notepad on your lap, glancing over at the man across the table. The two of you were currently sitting in the kitchen of the vacation cabin that your parents had willed to you, the modest dwelling often your staging ground for affairs like this. The warm wooden decor tended to make your partners feel more at ease and less vulnerable. Perceived safety was, after all, incredibly important when crafting scenarios.

Jack nodded. "Gears are easy for me to remember. Simple." 

"Got it. And no kissing on the mouth. Can I kiss you in other places, or would you prefer I didn't at all?"

"Kissin's fine." Jack allowed. "Whatever you wanna' do is fine, just not on my mouth." You jotted that down. "Hey, I uh...I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate you agreein' to help. I dunno' if this will work, but…" Whiskey rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Thanks. When Tequila mentioned your...extracurriculars, I figured he was jus' bein' outta' pocket again."

You grinned at that, giggling a little. "Does he get weird a lot?"

"I mean, he's uh...well, he's got his moments." Jack replied with a smile of his own.

"So," you hummed once you had checked your notes again, "after looking over all the information we've compiled, and the ideas you gave me an outline of, I'm thinking that you may want more of a 'surrender-play' kind of experience." 

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Dare I ask how that's different from what I already suggested?" 

"Look, you and I both know that I couldn't keep you from moving if you wanted to. Now, if we had a real working dynamic going on and I believed that you would listen and trust me implicitly so that you don't end up hurting yourself or me, then we might have something. But as we are right now, that's not gonna' happen." Whiskey inclined his head with a rueful chuckle, acknowledging the truth of your words. "So I propose that it's more of a scenario where all the agency is removed."

The agent leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. "Explain."

"You need a scenario where you aren't in control and there's not even a chance of you being in control, taking any responsibility or guilt from the equation." You elaborated. "Basically, you would surrender your control so that you can indulge guilt-free. A lot of people do this coupled with a roleplay aspect in order to test new things that may be out of character for them."

"You coulda' jus' said you wanted to tie me up, sugar." Jack drawled. "I'll show you some good knots."

"You don't have any issues with being secured to...I guess a chair, probably? We'll keep you upright. If we sprawl you out on a bed that might be a little too vulnerable." You reasoned, waiting for his nod before you wrote it down. "I know it sounds contradictory, but I want you to be comfortable in what we do. Should I leave your clothes on?"

"If you can stand to, I'd appreciate it." The man answered with a cheeky wink. "Bein' naked and restrained is a little too close to the job description." He sighed after a moment, tipping the chair backwards as he laced his fingers behind his head. "Now I warn you, if I'm supposed to be an unwillin' party, I may display a little less Southern hospitality and a little more Southern history with my language, if you catch my drift."

You pursed your lips, squinting at him. "...is that your way of saying you might use a naughty word or two?"

You received a lazy finger-gun in reply, "bingo, cherry pie. You got any names you ain't a fan of bein' called?"

"Oh! I mean, I've heard just about everything in the book." You straightened up as a thought occurred to you, and then pointed back at him sternly. "No slurs."

"Ma'am," Jack sounded aghast, "I am not that breed of Southern gentleman. My lingo can verge on the spicy, but I sure as hell wouldn't stoop to that level." 

You narrowed your eyes to drive your point home. "I really hope not." The agent inclined his head once more, putting a hand over his heart in a display of sincerity.

The front legs of the chair met the floor with a soft clatter, once again putting him on stable footing. "Now, I been wrackin' my brain tryin' to drum up a good premise like you asked, but I ain't exactly big in the screenwritin' department. I figure it could be kinda' like I'd been kidnapped? Drawin' a blank on why my kidnapper would be rawdoggin' me, maybe you can come up with somethin'?" He queried hopefully. 

You furrowed your brow in thought, going silent as you carefully considered the hodgepodge of contributing factors. "Oh, I think I can manage."

...

This deck had been rigged from the start. In theory, you knew that he knew that. Still, he was certainly acting like it stung his pride a bit that he'd fallen into your 'trap' so cleanly. 

Everything was going according to plan. 

Whiskey struggled against the binds that secured him to the kitchen chair. His whip was safely confiscated. Lasso out of reach. Hat was still on his head. He had specifications, after all. 

You left him to wriggle for almost half an hour while you got yourself ready. The man was a secret agent, after all. If he hadn't been restrained for much longer than that at any given point you would be very surprised. 

You finally opened the bathroom door, sauntering out into the cabin's small kitchenette. "Miss me, love?" You crooned, committing to your role as villainous vamp stereotype number six. You had worn a plain set of underwear and an oversized white t-shirt, soft and see-through from the amount of times it had been washed. You got the feeling that if you went more elaborate, you might scare Whiskey off or make him too uncomfortable to really get into it. This scene was all about trust, and he hardly knew you. But he had sought you out for this. All you had to do was follow through.

"Was beginnin' to worry that you forgot about me, ma'am." The agent drawled back, his smile tightly sardonic and his low voice curling hot in your belly. "You fixin' to untie me yet?"

You clicked your tongue, the noise disappointed. "Whiskey, sweetheart, where's the fun in that? If I untie you, you'll just kill me."

"Can't blame a man for tryin'." Jack was absolutely in his element right now. He looked furious. 

You ambled around behind him, slinging your arms around his neck and resting your weight on him briefly. "Remember," you murmured in his ear. "If you need me to slow down, or need to stop entirely, you say…?"

"Second, first and neutral." The agent replied readily. You patted his cheek.

"Good boy." You praised. 

"Ain't my first rodeo." Whiskey's tongue darted out nervously to wet his lips and you wanted to reassure him, but you knew you had a job to do.

"Now, can I get you a light refreshment? Something to drink? Maybe some chips?" You offered, moving to the small refrigerator that you had stocked a little earlier in the day. Planning was imperative for engagements like this. "I have water, sweet tea, Coke…"

"Dammit woman, stop beatin' around the bush! Why the hell do you have me hogtied to this damn chair?!" Jack erupted. 

"So rude." You chided him, removing a water for yourself and then leaning casually against the counter. "You really want to know, Mr. Whiskey?"

"Obviously." He scowled.

"Well be a patient boy and maybe I'll tell you." You hummed, not making eye contact as you unscrewed the cap on the water bottle. "It was more than enough trouble for me to get you here in the first place, big shot. Don't rush me."

"Listen, I'll be the first to tell you that I probably ain't who you're lookin' for." He said bluntly. "I'm just a simple liquor tycoon, nothin' more."

"Mr. Whiskey, if you continue to insult my intelligence maybe I will decide I've got the wrong man. And then I'll just get rid of you." You swirled the water in the bottle, fixing him with a thoughtful look. 

"You're talkin' a mighty big game, woman." Jack grumbled. 

You sloshed some of the water on your thin white shirt as if by accident, and began daubing at the gauzy fabric aimlessly. "Whiskey-"

"It's Jack." He spat.

"Oh, we're on a first name basis? How exciting!" You teased him, laughing when he muttered angrily under his breath. He was clearly enjoying the role of 'belligerent definitely-not-a-spy'. "Alright then, Jack. I won't beat around the bush, as you so tactfully put it."

"Hallelujah, some goddamn cooperation." He replied in a sulky tone.

"So, Jack, I need you to come inside me. Strictly so I can bypass Statesman's biomechanical security systems. It's nothing personal, I just assumed you would be the easiest target, you know?" You remarked with a shrug. "The flirty cowboy with the filthy mouth." He stared at you and you raised an eyebrow, half-convinced that his reaction was legitimate. "What? You do have a reputation."

"I hate to break it to ya', but you got the wrong beverage. You're lookin' for Tequila, ma'am." Jack retorted, his voice a little raspy. "You want...what?"

"I need you to come inside me so I can use the your genetic signature to bypass the security." Granted, you were pretty certain that Statesman used exclusively fingerprints, retina scans and time locks, but Whiskey had told you to weave a good story for the setup, not necessarily an accurate one.

Jack swallowed hard. "You've got bats in your fuckin' belfry, woman. You expect me to-"

"Oh no, that's the beauty of this arrangement." You interrupted him, still smiling. "I don't expect you to do anything aside from sit there and stay still while I ride you." 

"Jesus fuck woman, you--shit, isn't there some other way to do this? I ain't keen on the prospect, but if there's literally any other way…" 

"Sorry. This is the only solution that my superiors could get behind." You sighed, feigning regret. "And we might be here a while, from what I've heard." Jack's eyes darted to yours and he flushed, working his jaw. "Don't look so glum! I'm one of the best in my field. I'm sure I'll be able to compensate for your...lack of investment."

"You touch me and I swear to God-"

"Ah ah, naughty boys get gagged." You threatened gently, walking your fingers up the side of his face to stroke them back down his jawline. Jack glared at you, his dark gaze fairly luminous with fury and maybe just a touch of poorly-veiled interest. "Be a good boy and I'll let you talk as much as you want. Maybe I'll even let you play with my tits, hmm?" You asked, cupping your breasts through your still-damp shirt. "Would you like that, love?"

"I…" Jack trailed off, then snapped his eyes back up from your chest. "No!"

You tapped his nose, winking. "Oh I think you would. Don't be so stubborn, Jack." You cocked your head to the side. "No one from Statesman even knows you're gone. No one is coming to rescue you." You informed him, all the playfulness evaporated from your voice. "You're mine now, Jack. My own personal key-card."

"You won't get away with this." Jack snarled.

"I think I already have." You knelt between his legs, running your hands over the jeans that covered his thighs. He squirmed, trying to dislodge you, but you just moved with him. You dug your nails into his thighs. "You keep wiggling and I'm going to have to tighten the ropes, Jack. Is that what you want?"

"Oh you filthy fuckin' woman, you absolute bitch, let me go!" 

"Hmm," you tapped your chin as he kept jerking and straining against the knots. "No." 

Jack froze when your fingers unbuttoned the button at the top of his fly. "Now wait, wait just a damn minute, y-you can't--" he tried to plead.

"Oh I can. And I will." You looked up at him. "As long as we're in the right gear?"

"Sixth, sixth." He affirmed, flashing you a quick smile. You nodded and seamlessly resumed your play.

The zipper of his fly opened devastatingly slow, the agent exhaling raggedly when you pulled up his shirt and palmed his groin gently through the fabric of his boxer briefs. His cock was already half-hard, and you pointed that out with a mean little smirk on your face. "Oh no, looks like someone's interested." You crooned, rubbing your index finger over the head of his still-clothed dick.

"Fuck off, you...y-you-" he swore, rolling his shoulders as if he was testing his bonds. "You little bitch."

"Temper temper." You chided, ducking your head down to mouth over the fabric of his boxers. Jack gasped out another swear over your head, his hips twitching up to meet you before he slammed them back down. "Methinks someone doth protest too much." You snorted, splaying your fingers on the newly-revealed skin of his stomach. "We could make this so much simpler if you would just give in, Jack." You didn't miss the way his skin jumped at your touch, and you smiled against his boxers.

"You'll--you'll have to do better than that." Whiskey breathed. "You think just any ol' woman can get me up?"

You stood, leaning in close and pressing your mouth to his ear. His whole body flinched when you wrapped your fingers around his cock and gave him a nice, slow stroke. "Oh, poor thing. You must believe you're really special, hmm? God's gift to mankind every time you take someone to bed." You mocked, your teeth and tongue laving over his earlobe. "We're all so lucky to have you, Jack."

"Hhn-" Jack's shoulders went stiff, the man obviously biting his tongue. 

"You don't have a choice, sweetheart. I'm going to get you hard. Then, I'm going to use your cock. And all you have to do, my lovely, handsome cowboy, is come inside me." You informed him, drawing a finger beneath his chin. "More than once, preferably."

"I'm not usually a man to voice my own shortcomin's, but I must warn you that this will be a futile-" Whiskey's words hitched in his throat when you stroked him again. "Fuck, no, don't touch me like that, you--"

"Stop playing hard to get, Jack." You murmured, slinking your free hand up the back of his neck to massage his scalp right beneath the band of his hat. "Give up."

"Never." He hissed even as his head lolled forward, granting you more access to rub his neck. 

"Pity." You settled back down between his legs and wrapped your lips around his cock. 

"No, no, dammit-" Whiskey growled, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Don't you fuckin'...no, no, don't use your tongue the-ah f-uck--" His protest died in a pitiful groan when his cock met the back of your throat. "Oh, you--fuckin'--you've got to be shittin' me woman, the whole-?" He grunted out haphazardly as you relaxed your throat and took him all the way down to the base. "You think y-you can take advantage of me jus' cuz' it's been a while since I got laid? Fuck you."

You hummed around his cock, wanting to giggle when he twitched and swore loudly. Your fingers dove past the hem of your underwear, and you moaned against him as you ran your index in slow, steady circles around your clit. 

"I ain't fuckin' you, and I sure as shit am not gonna' come in your pussy." Jack snarled. 

"Oh yes you are." You sang, rising to your feet and slipping your panties off. The white t-shirt came next, baring your breasts to the air-conditioned environment. 

Jack seemed to forget that he was supposed to be vehemently against this yet again as he just...watched while you teased your nipples. You tugged at the taut peaks, rolling them between your fingers and making a show out of the whole bit. 

"I can't wait to have you inside me, filling me up, just pumping me full of your come." You said with a smile, sauntering over until you would be in reach if his hands were free. Jack's tongue made a nervous reappearance and you tugged his chin upwards so you could see his eyes. "Are we still in gear? Or do we need to shift?" You asked. He seemed slightly dazed.

"Oh! Uh, sorry, s-sixth." He stammered. "Sixth, holy shit."

"Mm. Don't disappoint me and maybe I'll let you live." You remarked smoothly, swinging one leg over his lap and straddling him. Jack's shoulders were rigid again and you kneaded at them surreptitiously, trying your best to keep him in the scene and out of his own head.

You were well on your way to soaking wet with arousal. There was nothing better than when you had a partner that trusted you, regardless of whether you had truly earned that trust. Just the fact that they had blind faith in you to execute the endeavor that they needed...it was heady and sweet and you loved every second. 

You rutted your pussy against the underside of Jack's cock, the man snapping his teeth at the sensation. "Too good?" You taunted, laughing when he swore again.

"I can't believe that you think I'm fuckin' enjoyin' th--look, any dick perks up at heavy pet-" 

Cutting Whiskey off mid-sentence was quickly becoming a favorite pastime, you realized as you angled your hips and let the head of his cock push past your pussy lips. "In, just a little, give you a taste, sweetheart…" you sighed, rocking your hips forward and back but not allowing him to sink any deeper into you. "There, that's not so bad, is it?" You cajoled as he shuddered beneath you. "Just keep being good, my sweet cowboy, and this will all be over so much sooner." 

"No, no-" He struggled to move, to do anything, but you had made certain to tie him exactly as he had specified. "Dammit, when I get free of here, I'll--"

"Shh, you think too much." You tapped your index finger to his lips, smoothing it over the bristle of his mustache. "Focus on your job right now, and everything will be fine." 

Jack turned his face away, inadvertently presenting the thick column of his neck to you. And you, channeling your inner villain, leaped at the opportunity to lick and bite at the bared skin. He made a strange noise, a combination of a moan and a whine that had you raising an eyebrow. 

"Is someone a little sensitive there?" 

"No, I am not." He answered through gritted teeth. "I hate that you're touchin' me, that's all!"

"Hmm, it doesn't sound like you hate it." You mused, suckling gently at the spot where his jaw met his throat. You were very careful not to leave marks, as that had been another specification. Whiskey struggled underneath you again, only succeeding in pumping his cock up into you slightly.

"Don't, don't--" His voice actually cracked and you smiled, nuzzling your nose beneath his jawline and letting his dick settle deeper.

"Oh no, it seems like you do want to fuck me after all." You shrugged nonchalantly, leaning back and stroking over the base of his cock with two fingers. "Warming up to the idea of being my little fuck toy, Jack?" You teased, noting the way his knuckles whitened from his grip on the rope and his Adam's apple bobbed with the force of his convulsive swallow at your words. "I could just keep you here like this forever, you know. All tied up, helpless for me…" You squeezed the base of his cock and he gasped, trying to stifle the noise. "Soon, I'd have you trained so that you couldn't come from any other pussy aside from mine. Wouldn't that be fun?" 

Without waiting for an answer, you let the last few inches of his dick enter you. You leaned back on his thighs, feeling the muscles coil and strain beneath your touch as you reached down and grazed your clit. You could feel the heat of his gaze on you, those brown eyes fixated on the motions of your fingers even as his cock split you open. You were grateful that he was secured, you weren't sure if you would have been able to take him otherwise. His cock curved thickly against your back wall, the engorged head throbbing back and forth over the area that made your whole body shudder in delight. 

Whiskey's jaw was taut, his shoulders set in a rigid line that made you ache to get him to come undone in you.

"You're so quiet." You pouted, raising your hand and brushing your wet index finger over his slack lower lip. "Aren't you having a good time?"

His chest abruptly expanded, like he had forgotten to breathe for a moment or two. "Fuck you." Whiskey seethed, making you chuckle softly. "I ain't nobody's goddamn fuck toy."

"Sweetheart," you chided as you sat up. "That's not a very nice thing to say to the person warming your cock right now." You deliberately clenched down on him and Jack swore under his breath, shaking his head. "I can make you feel so good, Whiskey, if you just give me what I want." You insisted, cupping his face and pulling halfway off of his cock. 

"N-N...No." He replied weakly.

You sighed, rolling your eyes and shaking out your shoulders. "Well, I tried." Your hands landed on his shoulders and you gripped down to steady yourself, your hips meeting his own with a wet slap! of skin. Jack's chest heaved, his eyes closed and head tilted back as you began to ride him roughly. "All I wanted was for you to come in me. I don't feel like that's asking for much!" You complained petulantly, rolling your hips against his when he was hilted in you with an agonizingly slow grind of your body.

Jack bit out a low "fuck," those tense shoulders trembling under your touch. You tucked your face into his neck to tease the sensitive area even more, your tongue tracing random patterns that made him squirm and writhe underneath you. "I don't--can't, can't, don't make me--" he tried to protest, his words fractured and pitiful. 

"Yes you can, and you're going to." You snapped, taking a handful of hair at the nape of his neck so you could urge his head back further, leaving his throat at your mercy. "You're coming in me, Jack! Give up!"

...

"First!" He choked out, and you immediately slowed to a crawl. Your touch on him gentled significantly, no longer demanding but cradling, caressing. 

"Easy, easy." You soothed, the unrelenting assault of your perfect hips gone to a slow and careful rhythm, back and forth like a porch swing in the summer heat. Your eyes searched his own, concern shining through.

Jack was speechless, his blind panic melting away at the sound of your regular voice. What the hell just happened? He licked his lips, only now realizing how dry they had gotten. "Sorry, I uh-"

"No apologies." You murmured. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Would you like to stop now?"

Whiskey took a long moment, running a mental check on his body. Nothing was sore, nothing seemed out of line. Everything was raring to go. 

Everything aside from his brain, that is. The damn thing wouldn't stop conjuring up scenes of you pregnant and everything going to absolute fucking shit. It didn't matter that he had zero attachment to you, it didn't matter that you were on birth control. This was how it always was. 

Every damn time things got serious with a new interest, "oh, let's start a family," Whiskey just wanted to curl up into a ball. Without fail, like clockwork, he would shut down. 

And then the accusations would start, the distrust, "How come you can do it with protection but not without?" and it was disheartening, crushing to go through again and again. Explaining didn't seem to do a lick of good, it was always just that he was stringing people along, that he was a damn selfish prick, that he didn't care about what his partner wanted.

That couldn't be further from the truth, of course, but maybe that was his own fault for not dropping the bomb before getting attached to someone. He just couldn't ever seem to justify asking a person on their second or third date, "hey so what's your thoughts on having kids?" It felt manipulative, cheap, and if he was being honest, he knew for a fact that sometimes just the idea of having children was enough to scare a potential interest off. 

You were the first person to try and help Jack really wrap his head around this whole issue. And yeah, that was the whole point in sussing you out, but…

Tequila didn't tell him that you actually gave a shit, or at least you were damn good at acting like you did. Whiskey bit his lip. "I'm okay." He said finally, trying for a smile.

"Anything chafing? Do you need some water?"

"I…" Jack trailed off. "Huh, I admit I am a bit parched. But that means you'd have to get up." He realized unhappily.

"Were you enjoying yourself?" You asked, sounding curious. 

Whiskey got the hysterical idea in his head of you pulling out some sort of satisfaction survey at the end of your engagement, the notion making him smirk slightly. "God, yeah. I...yeah." He flushed a little bit. "Dunno' if I ever got this far after…after all my mental hangups and stuff. The fact that I don't have a say in the matter seems to be helpin', though."

"Okay, don't go anywhere. I'll get you some water." You patted his thigh, cautiously settling your feet on the floor and then going to stand with a quivery little gasp that absolutely stroked his ego.

Jack couldn't help his own groan at the loss of your heat, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Damn it woman, has anyone ever told you that your pussy is fuckin' perfect?" He muttered, his usual honeyed words suddenly clumsy in his mouth. "I mean, hell."

You laughed, bending over to dig in the small fridge for another water. Whiskey felt his entire body throb at the sight of you presenting yourself to him like that, and he sucked in a breath at your obvious teasing. Even in the soft light of the kitchen, he could see the glisten of the wetness between your legs. Hell yes, he found himself thinking stupidly as you turned back around. 

"I'm just glad that you're doing alright. That's the most important part to me, after all." You assured him, unscrewing the cap on the water and tipping it to his lips.

Jack gulped greedily, feeling a few droplets escape his mouth and run down his neck to blot his collar. "I am. One hundred percent." He said firmly after he had slaked his thirst. "Let's keep goin'."

"If you're sure, absolutely." You acquiesced, smiling again. Placing the water bottle on the kitchen table, you then swung your leg over his thighs like you were vaulting back into the saddle. Jack held his breath, waiting for you to welcome his cock back into your body. And God he was so hard, he couldn't remember ever being this hard, what the hell--

But strangely, you didn't immediately resume from where you had left off. Instead, you put your arms around his neck and actually rested your forehead against his own, bumping his hat upwards. 

Jack swallowed roughly, confused. 

"Let me take this from you." You whispered. Whiskey felt pinned by your stare, he felt as if you could see every terrible thing he had ever done, every transgression laid bare under the weight of your gaze. "Let go of it. I have you. I won't let anything happen to you." 

The words washed over him, soft and sweet. Your fingers slipped up into the hair at the nape of his neck to toy with the mussed ends that lurked there. The whole exchange was oddly intimate and Jack found himself at a loss yet again, simply grating out, "sixth," when he couldn't come up with anything else to say.

You reached down and stroked his cock, rubbing the head of it against your clit. And Jesus he could feel you, the difference in heat, the slick--

"Are you gonna' take it from me, sweet girl?" He hissed through his teeth like it wounded him to ask, trying desperately to cling to the illusion that he wasn't willing. "Take everythin' I've got?"

The blur between reality and this playdate was getting messier by the second. He wanted to fuck you, wanted to bury himself in you, spend every last drop inside the hot embrace of your quivering cunt. He wanted that. Jesus Christ, this wasn't part of the bargain.

This was a pantomime, specially designed pornography that existed only to coax a very specific reaction from his confused body. So why did he wish he had met you years ago? Why was he suddenly hoping and praying that the sounds you were making were legitimate instead of exclusively for his benefit, hoping that you were also enjoying this?

You angled your hips and sank back down on his lap, your hands going to your breasts where you proceeded to fondle and tease them until your nipples looked like they ached.

Whiskey fucking ached himself to wrap his lips around one pert little peak, swirl his tongue across the tip and make you come undone, rut his dick up into you until you cried out his name and soaked him--

Whoa cowboy, he chastised himself, a little startled by how sharp the longing was. You just kept fucking yourself on his cock, that hot, wet little pussy molded perfectly to every ridge of his member and he had never been this hard, this ready in his life. Despite the air conditioning in the cabin, your skin shone with sweat from all the work you were putting in and Whiskey couldn't recall a time where he had been more appreciative of someone else accomplishing a task within his field of vision.

Your hand slipped down, down, and Jack found himself following the trajectory until it delved between your legs and you started playing with yourself. "Jack," you crooned his name and it was like a prayer, reverent and soft, tender enough to coil itself around his lungs and choke him to death without a whisper of protest. You parted your legs even wider in his lap, exposing yourself to him so he could watch his cock slide in and out of you, so he could see himself fucking you open.

"Are you gonna' come for me, sweet girl?" He gasped, craning his neck and managing to tilt his head so he could mutter into your ear, "you just gonna' wrench one out for me, beautiful?"

"Mm, no, I'm not coming until after you come." You whimpered, still moving your hand. "But I'm so close, Jack. I want to come."

Your plaintive whine had him ablaze. God, he had never wanted to please someone so damn badly in his life. "I know you do, sweet girl." He murmured huskily, exhaling hot over the shell of your ear and loving the way you quivered in his lap. "You're so good, lettin' me blow my load before you get off--gonna' pump me dry when you come, aren't you? Just keep me inside you until that little pussy is all fucked out," he growled, barely aware of the words that tumbled from his mouth. 

All he knew is that you were all a-tremble at his voice, your body as hot as late July against his chest, your eyes heavy with adoration that he did not deserve and God, he couldn't get used to that look even if it was fake. What if you stayed? he wondered absently. What if you stayed?

Oh fuck, he was about to come. Panic jabbed like the blade of a knife between his shoulder blades and Whiskey went silent, his teeth bearing down on his lower lip and his eyes slamming shut as he focused harder than he ever had in his life.

The smell of you, the sounds, the heat, the little spasms of your cunt around his cock…

Yes. Yes, God yes, he could do this-- 

"Come in me, sweetheart." Begging him, pleading, demanding, "Jack-!" You cried his name.

Whiskey groaned hoarsely, so low it was almost painful, and let go. He bucked his hips up against you as best as he could, minute little thrusts while he came harder than he had in years. "Oh," he snarled, gritting his teeth, "fuckin' Christ woman, I think you've ruined me, Jesus fuck."

Your hands threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck again and you held him, not tightly, but just enough to keep him steady, anchored. "There," you said abruptly, the snide, put-upon tone of your role contrasting wildly with the gentleness of your touch, "was that so difficult?"

Jack burst out laughing, not overly concerned with how strange of a reaction that was. Hell, was he relieved? "Jesus fuckin' Christ, you're great." He remarked breathlessly. "I don't even know what just happened."

"Oh?" You replied, raising an eyebrow. "The mess between my legs seems to allude to you possibly having an orgasm. Jury's still out though."

He grimaced apologetically, glancing down. "Sorry darlin'. It's been a while, y'know?" You rose up off of him again and he grunted as his cock slipped free from your body. Whiskey felt half-drunk, relief and release combining into a potent cocktail that left him boneless in the chair. 

You quickly put your shirt back on and then crouched at his feet, beginning the arduous process of untying him. Jack just sat there, watching you drowsily. He couldn't do much else, really. "Any numbness or chafing?" You asked quietly, stirring him momentarily from his daze.

"Nah, nothin' yet." He replied, straightening his freed left leg and rotating his ankle in his boot. "A little stiff, but I've survived worse than that." 

"And how do you feel?" You questioned, "physically and emotionally."

Jack gnawed at his lower lip, trying to force his sluggish brain past the haze of serotonin in order to give you a satisfactory answer. "...good." He said finally, scrambling to elaborate, "or uh, better, I guess. More okay than I've been in a fuckin' while." It wasn't a lie, he was surprised to discover. He hadn't actually put much stock into this endeavor, figuring it would be a fun little diversion that would end just like every other time. Of course, it didn't hurt that you were easy on the eyes, prettier than a peach if he was being honest with himself.

Your smile was bright and Jack's stomach knotted confusingly. "I'm glad."

His right leg was released and he shifted his weight in the seat, groaning happily when his hip popped. "Hey, wait." The agent belatedly realized, "you didn't-?"

"We were here for you." You reminded him. "Not me."

"Whoa now, that don't seem fair at all!" Whiskey protested, taken aback by your nonchalance. "You just put in all the work!"

Your laugh tripped down his spine like an aftershock. "Don't get bent out of shape! It's standard policy, Mr. Whiskey. Once the desired result of the scene has been acquired, the scene ends and I start with aftercare."

"B-But--you didn't get to get off though!" 

"Me 'getting off' wasn't specified in our planning." 

"I needed to specify that shit?! I figured you'd just kinda'..." His right arm was free now and Jack seized the opportunity to make a certain gesture, raising his eyebrows. "I mean, I was at your mercy!" He continued, bewildered. "You totally coulda' just kept goin'-"

"Yes, and that's exactly why when the desired result has been achieved, the scene ends." You interjected firmly. "Because you trusted me enough to let me take control, and I'm not about to break that trust by doing something selfish on a whim."

Jack exhaled hard, scooting his hat a little further back on his head so he could study you. You didn't look disappointed, or annoyed with him. He wondered how many times you had fielded ignorant questions like his own and he cringed at himself. "I'm...shit, I'm sorry. I don't have any right to be all shitty about it." He apologized as you moved out of his field of view to untie the rope securing him to the back of the chair. "I just feel like you worked so hard an' got nothin' out of your end of the bargain."

"It's sweet of you to be concerned about that, but don't take it personally, okay?" You assured him, "I do this because I enjoy it. The whole experience, not just the finale." The ropes around his chest sagged and Jack slid forward a bit in the seat, relaxing. 

"Can I get that water again? Christ, I need a cigarette and a tumbler of the strong stuff after all that." He joked, clumsily tucking his cock back into his boxers. You pressed the bottle to his hands and he nearly dropped it, chuckling self-consciously. "Whups, sorry. I had my fists all bunched up so my fingers are stiff." Jack proceeded to down the rest of the bottle, wiping his mouth and mustache with the back of his hand after the fact. "So...what exactly is it you do for Tequila?" He queried nosily.

You laughed at him and God, God he loved the sound of your laugh. "That, Mr. Whiskey, is on a need-to-know basis. Just like this little soiree between the two of us." You chided, your eyes bright with good humor. "I would never violate a partner's trust in me."

Jack tipped the bottle in your direction, as if making a toast. "I'll drink to that, partner. What's next on the menu?"

"We'll talk out the scene and wind back down. Get cleaned up. I'll probably…" you paused, squinting at the clock over the sink. "You want some pizza? There's a joint not far from here that serves pies and chicken wings until midnight."

Jack groaned appreciatively, "I knew you were my kinda' gal. Lead the way to the debrief, ma'am."

It didn't really matter in the long run, he supposed. You obviously weren't interested in anything serious (if only because he figured that your flings with the stereotypical 'bad boy' Tequila would have become more regular in spite of the younger man's painful crush on Ginger Ale), and he could respect that. Still though, he couldn't help feeling a touch morose over the possibility of never engaging with you again. 

He toyed with the idea of asking you for another 'appointment', but dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it arrived. Better to quit while he was ahead.

Or rather, he amended ruefully as he settled down across from you in the diner booth, his hair still damp and curling slightly beneath his hat from the quick wash he had indulged in at your cabin, better to quit now before I make even more of a fool of myself.

Part Two

[liam-93-productions]

Liam’s full interview with Tings Magazine - Part 2

Note: the interview was recorded in may 2020. 

You had the support system of Harry, Louis, Niall and Zayn during your teen years. When that support system stopped, having to deal with it by yourself, did that seem like a harder loss than it did leading up to that? It felt more like an identity crisis because that was like your crutch almost, being a part of the band. It got to the point where it was almost invincible. But that kind of got let go. I had serious questions about whether I wanted to be a solo artist. My thing was if the right song came then I wil, then obviously “Strip That Down” came along and I couldn’t really say no.  It’s a bit crazy, especially being released on such a pedestal. You don’t want to undo your legacy for what you set for yourself because you achieve so much so quickly. It’s kind of funny. I was playing poker the other day for a charity. Bryan Cranston and Aaron Paul and a couple of big Hollywood celebrities at this one table and me, which was the most random thing ever. They were like, “I’ve got questions that I like to ask people at the poker table. What was your first job?” Everyone was like I was a paperboy, or I was that, and I was like my first job was One Direction. And Bryan Cranston was like “You can’t really go anywhere from there. You’ve set yourself a hard task.” And I thought it was really funny, but it’s so true. One Direction was such a massive thing and I think we were all just existing since One Direction and in a sense, the hype of the comeback is the thing that’s kept us bubbling along. For sure, from that start, it was this massive identity crisis, you were a part of this unit and you knew how you fit in the unit. You knew the part that you played and as soon as that was gone, you couldn’t play the same role and carry on that way because the other units weren’t there to put it all together if that makes sense. So, you really had to try to discover who you were but in the public eye. That was stressful. 

How was that process for you, other than being stressful? How did you go about doing that? Really badly (laughs). 

Not at all. I disagree with that. You are very much different now than you were then. And you’ve grown into who you are now in a really amazing way. Was part of this identity something that was brewing during your time at One Direction. I feel like you hear Zayn do interviews and he’s been very clear about feeling different than how he’s been projected in One Direction and the identity that he’s become now. Was that the same case for you? Or was it more of a discovery process where you had no idea who you were when you left? Oh no, it was a complete discovery process. I mean if you look as simple as clothes. We were told what to wear at the start. It was like having four twin sisters. It was like ‘you can’t wear that’, ‘I’m wearing this’. So, we each got our thing. Mine was like plaid shirts. And for two years of my life, I just wore plaid shirts because that was my thing. Then we came out of that and went into this black phase where we all wore black t-shirts and black jeans or white t-shirts and black jeans. And when you come out of it and you don’t have to wear black t-shirts and jeans anymore, I was like, ‘what the hell do I wear?’ I went through a complete transition of clothes and different things. And that is only one element of your life, your appearance, what you look like.  For other things, for humor, you only experience the same humor for five years, around the same people. Then that changes. You meet other people. And we become more into the P.C. generation of things and it was like “we can’t say this anymore. We can’t do that”. And that was like another thing. As you try to develop, you make several mistakes. I went through the gangster rap phase. And it is the same with music as well. At first, it was like all the chains and rap, it was like escape the boyband scenario for me. 

The Miley Cyrus effect. The Disney to bad girl effect.  Exactly, I wanted to escape and identify myself differently. And I kind of pushed that to as many limitsas it could go to. Ever since then, as you get older, you realize that time is a wonderful thing. Instead of being on a race to be a certain someone because all your role models are so far ahead of you because they are already there, but they didn’t start there. For me, when I got into acting and doing auditions most recently, I started looking at actors that I love. Brad Pitt is one of my favorite, favorite people, you know, who’s transitioned to being the most amazing person, who has his own identity. I was thinking, how did he do it? So, I watched an interview of him at twenty-six. You have to watch it. He barely answers a question in the interview, you can’t believe it’s the Brad Pitt you see now. 

That’s thirty years of media training in between. Exactly! And this was when he did his first role. I already had my first role, being in One Direction, so I’m even further on than he was at my age. I don’t have to worry so much now I just have to have trust in the process of whatever life is, I know this sounds a little bit around about the house, but I just think you have to take a back seat and move steadily into things.  When you are a kid, you are in such a rush. You’re like I want it now. I want to be this guy. When I did my Hugo thing, it was all about muscles and training, and I was looking at Mark Wahlberg. And Mark Wahlberg is freakin’ Mark Wahlberg! It’s a taken him years and years to be Mark Wahlberg. It’s just where you set your sights for your role models, I guess. It’s the little thing that it has to come now and that’s what pop stardom is like, because you need it right now because you are already in it. I’m not waiting to come up, I’m already in it. 

Quick and constant. There’s this constant need to feed the system or you’re out of the system. Yeah, and it’s easier for artists nowadays. If you look at NSYNC, after they broke up, it was like, unfortunately, nobody really cared about what J.C. and the other boys were doing. So, they didn’t get the articles. Now, it’s like you are your own charge in that. You can be the front page of so-and-so if you really want to be. You just have to do the right thing on your channel. So, it’s like being able to be in charge of that stuff helps artists a lot more these days. But once again, that’s pressure because we are all in charge of our press and media from our phones. Whereas, they would have to go into work and have someone lay our the interviews or they wouldn’t get them. So, I suppose it’s a different type of pressure really. 

Yeah, and it’s a different landscape. They would have it laid out for them, and those interviews would last months and months, where today it’s like one day. Then it’s swipe up, swipe left, and onto the next thing. The lifespan of what we put out is so much shorter.  That’s the ting. I had TikTok out yesterday and I haven’t really invested a lot of time into something. But I made this really stupid song about cookies that went with my video. I literally just made this fun song in my house and we were like “Screw it” let’s make a music video for it. We did like one of those Lonely Island type videos and put it out. It’s one of the pieces of content that I cared about the most because I made the whole song and whatever. It was fun, and I wanted people to enjoy it the same way I did.  But even when you post something like that, I see some people where it just goes completely over their heads, that this is just a fun thing to look at. It doens’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean that my next album is going to be about freakin’ cookies or whatever. I think we’ve lost some of the lightheartedness, having to take ourselves so seriously all the time. It doesn’t make any sense to me. It’s like, you can view the average time that someone looked at a post, so it’s that cutthroat. If they stayed on for five seconds or whatever, the average time should be the full time and if it’s not, the post was bad. You have that power now, but it’s in seconds. Even the average time someone came on to look at it, it’s down to the seconds. 

You brought up the hype of a reunion and relevancy and keeping that alive. That interest. Where does that stand? There’s a lot of conflicting articles about a One Direction reunion. What can you say or not say, what’s the official word? To be honest with you, I keep mixing up the words reunion and anniversary. Our anniversary is coming up; it’s ten years that we created the band which is amazing. It’s a huge achievement for all of us. Every so often, I’ll accidentally say reunion and I’ll be like “oh my Dog, that conflicts another report.” I’ve been really clear that there’s not a reunion, just because I know music schedules. Harry just put out a music video and that’s got two years in it before we even think about a reunion. And I just don’t think everyone’s done yet. I think everyone’s enjoying their time, making their own workm that little bit of freedom. Um, and One direction is not exactly a side career that you can have. It requires you to be fully in it. Until we can all stop and commit to the band for whatever reason, I don’t think it can come back. I think there will be a reunion and I’m excited about it and I think it’s be a lot of fun. It will be interesting to see if we have the same essence that we had as kids. 

Essence meaning synergy on stage or camaraderie? I think a little bit of both. I mean One Direction was such a free time, and people enjoyed the fact that it was five lads on a stage having a good time. They didn’t care if we sang in tune or if we fell over. That’s what the show was about. It was chaotic. We’ve all become these more polished popstars. I don’t know if we have the same carefreeness about us, is what I’m worries about. But it’s been nice we’ve all been talking, staying in touch. It’s the first time that everyone’s spoken in the last five years. It’s just nice that everyone’s grown into being nice people. There’s none of them that I really hate. Everyone’s grown up into nice young men who just gone on a bit further from where you left them. 

Who are you closest to? Do you speak to any of them regularly? We have a big respect for each other. And I don’t think we give each other enough credit for how we’ve helped each other as well. I speak more to Louis and Niall than I do anybody else. I speak to Harry on occasion. I think we don’t have very much in common as people. There’s nothing wrong with us. We just don’t have as much in common. And Zayn, sadly, has fallen completely by the ... which is terrible. I feel for him sometimes, but at the same point, he made his decision on that. And it’s not something you can go back to lightly. If I saw him on the street, would I say hello? 100 percent. It doesn’t bother me, intrusively. I’ve already spoken about his great news. Having been through it myself, ... it’s interesting. I just think it’s a lonely scenario to be in, not being able to speak to the other people that helped you get to where you are. 

If you were to guess, or maybe you already know, would you see that reunion including Zayn or is that over and done with? I think it’s over and done with, for the time being. You can never fully discount it because you had the Robbie Williams Take That scenario. I remember watching that concert when I was in the band. It was so interesting that they were in a band, he left and had all the success he had, and came back. He had his own section of the show which I thought was interesting. They weren’t down in the dumps. They had some of the biggest hits in Britain. I don’t think you can fully discount it. I know for now it’s not possible. I think, for now, it would take certain people to admit wrong in a scenario and I don’t see that happening because they don’t even realize it yet. That’s a little further down the line. 

If a reunion happens, how do you think you would envision that creatively? Everyone has such different formed identities.  I actually think that we’ve picked up on that already, not knowing what is about to happen next. I remember from the tour screens from the very last tour. The introduction with the songs showed us on video doing different things. It set us apart ever so slightly. But I feel like if we came back together, it would be a celebration of what One Direction was, what is now, and each of the members. I think the tour screens would Harry is a completely different aesthetic that I was. I just think the band’s name is completely ironic because everyone has gone in opposite directions. Maybe, that’s the point of the name. I don’t know. Yeah, I just think it would fit back together quite seamlessly, for completely different reasons. 

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Inukag Royalty Au *in honor of Tanabata coming up, it was worked into the chapter 😊

“Oh, look Rin, there’s a traveling marionette show today. Do you want to watch?” She and Kagome had been wandering around the marketplace when they stumbled onto it.

“Yeah!” The child squealed in delight. “I’ve seen them before and they’re really good!”

“I think we got here just in time,” Kagome scanned for a seat. “There,” she pointed, “let’s sit down before it starts.”

It was quite amazing to see this group of traveling entertainers. Such troops would pass through her own kingdom, but Kagome was rarely allowed to leave the castle to watch them. From what she could see on their signs, they put on different shows for adults with a variety of acts, and puppet shows for the children, staying for a few days before moving onto the next town. The story they were about to perform was a classic tale of the star-crossed lovers Orihime and Hikoboshi. It was cute, albeit a bittersweet tale of eternal longing. Just as the show was getting ready to start, Kagome felt a body sit down beside her. She glanced over with her peripheral to make sure they weren’t a problem and noticed a familiar set of claws on the persons hands.

“Prince?” Kagome whispered not wanting to draw attention. “What are you doing here?”

“Miroku and I saw you two,” Inuyasha whispered back.

Kagome leaned forward a tiny bit and noticed Miroku on the other side of Inuyasha who nodded in recognition. “I see…”

“We we’re bored,” Inuyasha threw in, “so decided to join you.”

The comment made Kagome chuckle, which then caught Rin’s attention, who looked over and saw the men. The child’s eyes lit up at seeing her uncle and in her excitement, she got off her seat and quickly plopped herself onto Inuyasha’s lap.

“Guess I’m just a chair now,” he chuckled too. "Behave and watch the show or I’ll kick you off my lap.”

“I’m always a good girl,” the child retorted with a grin before turning back to the stage.

And she was. Rin sat enthralled by the whole production. They really were as good as she’d portrayed to Kagome. From the quality of the marionettes to the actor’s voice work, they truly pulled you into the story. But for the adults, it brought on a different wave of emotions, at least it did for Kagome. While the story was beautiful, she could identify with Princess Orihime’s longing for the one she’d fallen in love with despite her father’s rules… and to be torn apart because of it… At least, the Princess in the tale got to see her love once a year. Kagome won’t be able to do the same. She didn’t notice the small frown growing on Inuyasha’s face, because she avoided looking in his direction. He was her Hikoboshi, but she didn’t want him to notice the moisture clouding her eyes or realize how much the story was having an effect on her.

Once the final act was complete, the puppeteers came out from behind the curtain to bow to the audience’s wild applause. It was a great success for most including Rin who was clapping and bouncing on her uncle’s lap with excitement. Kagome was happy the child enjoyed the performance even though it took a toll on her.

“I love this story…” both Kagome and Inuyasha mumble at the same time, causing them to stiffen and turn to face the other.

“You do?” Inuyasha questioned.

“It’s sweet,” Kagome responded with heat coloring her cheeks. “Even though I feel bad for them.”

“Me too.” Inuyasha mumbled. “It’s not fair.”

Her eyes slightly widen, fully understanding what he was feeling in that moment. But as much as she would have loved to say more, Kagome knew she couldn’t, not in public like this.

“What’s not fair?”

Leave it to Rin to bring them back to the present.

“Oh, um,” Kagome quickly gave her attention to the little girl. “What uncle Inu means is it’s sad that Orihime and Hikoboshi only get to see each other once a year.”

After a brief pause, the child’s eyes widened. “Ohhhh,” Rin acknowledged her understanding. “Yeah, that’s not very fair. But at least they found someone.” She turned around and looked up. “Isn’t that a good thing uncle Inu?”

Again, the innocence of a child worked wonders for lightening the mood.

“Yes,” Inuyasha smiled down at his niece. “It is a good thing.” But his eyes drifted towards Kagome as he continued. “I’m sure Hikoboshi appreciates all the time he gets to spend with his Orihime.”

For several seconds the pair hold a gaze with one another. No words needed to communicate a sense of longing despair. Kagome may have been painfully aware of Inuyasha’s insinuation, but so was Miroku. The princes guard cleared his throat loudly, breaking the moment. “Inuyasha, we should get back to our patrols.” He spoke matter of fact.

“Right,” the hanyo grumped. Miroku constantly warned him about letting his true feelings slip, and even though he knew his friend was just looking out for him, Inuyasha didn’t need to like it. He sighed. “Okay Rin, time to get off. Uncles gotta go back to work.”

“Okay!” Rin jumped off his lap and stood next to Kagome who’d also risen to her feet. “We should finish our shopping and get back to the castle too,” she took hold of the child’s hand. “Say goodbye to your uncle Rin.”

“Bye uncle Inu!” She waved as the pair made their way back into the throng of market goers.

For the rest of the day, Kagome pushed aside the incident in the marketplace. Why think about it when it would only make her sadder at her circumstances, especially since for Rin it had been a fun experience hanging out with her uncle. She didn’t want the child to see that side of life for as long as possible. Even at dinner, Inuyasha was quieter than usual, but Kagome didn’t want to assume anything, so she went about her routines like normal pretending everything was fine. Sometimes it was easier to ignore reality. That is until Rin was already tucked into bed and Kagome headed towards the library to get some reading done. If there was one thing that could take her mind off most things it entailed drowning her thoughts in an academic book.

Most of the time.

Of all the stories that troop could have chosen for a children's play, why a sad love story? Why not a fanciful fairytale like a prince saving a princess from an evil villain or an adventurer searching for treasure and fame? But it wouldn’t be fair to pin all her woes on the performers. The Tanabata story was a popular one after all. Kagome sighed as she shifted in her seat to pull her legs up and under her body. The book she'd chosen was about medicinal herbs because she was curious about useful treatments. She'd hoped the interest would be enough to pull her away from thinking about the play, but it wasn't working. Maybe she just needed to give herself more time to process everything. 'Or maybe you need to do the opposite and stop thinking about anything!' Kagome chided herself. She really did need to stop letting her emotions control her. 'You're supposed to be hiding out here, remember?!'

It was the sound of approaching footsteps that caused Kagome to stop reading and look up from her book. Was it a guard? Nope, just Inuyasha.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” Inuyasha dropped onto the couch next to her. “I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

“Inuyasha? What’s wrong?” She put the book down when she saw the anger brimming in his eyes. “Did something happen?”

The prince let out an annoyed sigh. “I just had a huge fight with my dad.”

“A fight? Over what?”

“You.”

“Me?!” Her eyes widened. “Did I do something wrong?!”

“No, no, not you,” he grabbed her hands. “It’s all me. I… I-I told him— I told him that I refuse to honor the agreement to marry someone else. He wouldn’t even tell me who she is, so how would I ever be okay with it? I just can’t! Not when I’m already in love…”

Kagome swallowed back hard. “You are?”

His grip tightened, gaze turned serious and focused. “I told him I was in love with you. Kagome I can’t deny that anymore no matter how much I tried.”

“But you know we can’t—”

“I know, I know, it’s crazy, but after that story…” Inuyasha let go of her hands for a moment to gesticulate. “I just couldn’t stop thinking about it! I told him I’d rather stay single for the rest of my life if it meant still being around you… even if that’s all I get to have. I just want to stay in your life in any way I can.”

Kagome didn’t know what to say. With all her heart she wished it could work, but knowing she too was living a lie that she couldn’t reveal coupled with such a major potential for scandal… her voice lowered in hesitation. “Inu this is crazy…”

“Do you love me?” Is all Inuyasha blurted out.

“Yes—” she spoke from the heart, “but—”

Inuyasha took her hands again and brought them to his chest. “Then that’s enough for me.”

Despite his efforts to reassure her, Kagome couldn't be happy about this declaration of love. She'd heard some of the whispers starting around the castle about their forbidden relationship. What if someone started to talk? What if someone started to question her true origins? All it would take is someone mentioning to the wrong person the woman in the castle who'd stolen the prince’s attention. And what about the royal family? How will they treat her now? Will they see her as a jezebel? A woman who’d infiltrated their life to cause problems?? Kagome shook her head. “But there must be consequences!” She knew all too well as a hypocrite, the rippling damages that could occur from breaking such trusts. “You don’t just break an agreement like that without consequences.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen to you, I give you, my word. As for me, I can handle my dad. He was angry but believes he can make it work, probably honor the rest of the deal just minus the marriage part.”

“Which was?”

“In exchange for the marriage, we guaranteed to protect that kingdom. They’re smaller than us, so they really have no choice but to take the amended deal because it at least assures them of safety.”

Kagome was so torn in that moment about what to do. She couldn't tell him the truth yet, not because she didn't trust him, but because she didn't want to burden him with it. If anyone were to find out who she really was, they might notify her parents and her life at the palace would truly be over with. It was selfish, but could anyone blame her? This was the first time in her life she's experienced freedom and happiness. Ugh, why’d she have to fall in love with Inuyasha? Why’d Inuyasha have to fall in love with her? Is fate always so cruel? First the idea of an arranged marriage, but now to be stuck in a forbidden one. Was she cursed? Were they both cursed?

“Y-You’re sure your father won’t hold this against me? Because I-It wasn’t planned. I never intended for any of this to happen.” The tears had begun to fall down Kagome’s cheeks at the enormous weight levied onto her shoulders.

“Neither had I,” Inuyasha wiped at the tears and cradled her cheek. “Neither of us could have controlled what our hearts desired.”

“But I’m scared Inu…”

“I swear on my life nothing will happen to you and if it comes to it, we’ll run away, far away and hide just me and you.” He leaned their foreheads together. “I don’t care about my title. I just want to be with you.”

“I wanna be with you too,” Kagome breathed out.

“Then have faith in our destiny.” Inuyasha tilted Kagome’s face up and swept his lips over hers, earning a shivering sigh. He then centered and placed pressure into a deeper kiss.

Kagome melted into the kiss as her fingers moved up and gripped to his shirt. Let her fears be damned in that moment, for if this earned her banishment in the end, just tasting his lips this once… she could die happy knowing she’d felt love. It was more than she ever thought she’d achieve in this gilded life.

“I’ll try,” she whispered an honest answer. “In you… I’ll believe…”

[byeongqueen]

First Time / Son Dongmyeong x Reader

This was requested by @hajoonflavored, the ending is a bit crappy, but I hope you’ll still enjoy it luv, thank you for the request !!

Pairing: Son Dongmyeong x Female!Reader

Word count: 1.437 

Warnings: Smut, fingering, dirty talk kind of ? 

“Hey Myeongie, have you ever had sex?”

You were sitting on the grass in your building’s garden with your childhood best friend Dongmyeong. It was sunny outside, and your bare legs were slowly warming up in the sun.

“What kind of question is that?” He looked at you, dumbfounded

“Just answer it, don’t ask another question!” You groaned and laid back down. “Have you ever had sex?” You simply repeated.

“I had sex one time with a boy yeah, and maybe twice with a girl ? Now why on earth are you asking that??”

“ Do you think it’s weird that I’m almost 19 and ever had sex?” You sat back up to look at him.

“What ? Of course not, everyone goes to their own rhythm love, why do you think that.” He scoots closer to you.

“Ah, I don’t know … I mean, I had opportunities, but I always turned them down …” You looked down and started playing with grass. “But I kinda wanna know what it feels like.”

“Why did you turn them down then?”

“Because I’m scared?” You looked up to meet his gaze. “I’m afraid it’ll hurt, and they won’t treat me right.”

He didn’t add anything, and just wrapped his arms around your figure, hugging you to his chest. You knew Dongmyeong would never judge you for anything, and now you found yourself kind of silly. Of course everyone has their first time at different moments of their lives, we’re humans, there is nothing to be ashamed about.

“You know, maybe I could show you? So you know what it feels like?”

You looked at him wide-eyed, in complete shock. Did he really suggests having sex with you ? Nah, he was crazy, you two had been friends for so long you can’t even remember how you met. You were about to call him crazy and decline his offer, but then you had second-thought. Could it be that bad ? Your friendship was solid enough that something like that wouldn’t change it, and Dongmyeong has already some experience in that domain. Plus, he was someone you trusted with your whole heart, and you knew he would treat you right, and be careful of you.

“Okay, let’s do it.”

It was Dongmyeong’s turn to look at you, his mouth hanging open a little. He said that half as a joke, half seriously, and never did he think that you’d say yes. Without adding a single word, he got up and extended his hand for you to take. He then led you through the halls and to your small student flat. He closed the door carefully behind the two of you, and then locked it. You both looked at each other for a moment, not really knowing what to say, or what to do. Dongmyeong broke the silence by walking up to you and giving you a small, soft kiss on the lips. You couldn’t help but smile a little as he pulled back. He took this as a clue to come back to your lips, with a little more force, and hunger this time. As he worked his magic to your lips, his hands crawled their way under your top and on your stomach. He leaned back a little to ask if he could remove it, to which you nod, and blushed severely. Of course you had been intimate with a boy before, but it never felt like that, and you never went past the ‘we’re both in our underwear in a bed’ stage.

Dongmyeong carefully took off your shirt, his delicate hands slowly tracing up your body, leaving goosebumps everywhere he touched. He slowly got into a different mindspace, and was now completely focused on making you feel good. His lips attached themselves to the tender skin on your neck, as he started to leaved feather-like kisses there. You tentatively placed your finger on the hem of his shirt, slowly pulling it up, hoping he’d understand the message. And thankfully he did, breaking contact for a split second to remove his shirt entirely. You couldn’t help but gaze at his toned and slim body. Soon enough, your fingertips found their way to his abdomen, and it made the young man smile. He carefully placed his hands on your hips to back you up against the bed, pushing you a little to make you fall on it. He wasted no time in coming on top of you, and attacked your neck again, leaving small bites this time. Throughout the whole process, he asked you multiple times if you were okay, and still feeling good. He really wanted your first time to be as special as possible.

You both continued undressing each other softly, until you were just in your underwear. Dongmyeong couldn’t help but look at your body, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

“You’re so, so, so beautiful baby..”

He ran his hands on your whole body, his lips soon following the same path. Before he arrived to your chest, he looked up to have your approval. Once he had, he undid your bra, and started playing with them, making you experience so many new sensations.

You couldn’t help but claw a little at his back, arching your own as you did so. Dongmyeong had the most satisfied little smile on his face as he felt you do that, and felt even more encouraged.

After a good amount of caresses and kisses, you both ended up naked, not without a lot of blushing from you. As Dongmyeong crawled down on the bed, to be in between your legs, you started shaking from anticipation.

“Already trembling love? I haven’t even started yet?”

He gave you a cocky smile and you felt yourself melt into place instantly. He rubbed a finger up and down your folds, collecting enough wetness on it, so that it would hurt less. He presented a long and skinny finger at your entrance, and waited for your approval. You nodded, but still felt panicky on the inside, and Dongmyeong caught that.

“Hey babe, it’s okay.” He climbed up to kiss you tenderly. “If you want to stop, we can okay ? I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything.”

“N-No, I wanna do it ..” You nodded. “Ah it’s dumb but … will it hurt?’

“I’m not gonna lie, it might, but I’ll make sure to be as gentle as I can be, so that it doesn’t, okay ?”

You nodded quickly while breathing out a small ‘yes’. He smiled and kissed your forehead before going back to his previous position.

“I’m going in sweetie, tell me if it hurts, or feels uncomfortable”.

Slowly, he inserted a finger in, and stayed still for a moment. You felt a wave of relief hit you. You didn’t feel any pain at all. You told him with a small smile and weak voice that he could move, and he didn’t wait a second to do so. He thrust his finger slowly, curling them, hitting you in all the right places. After a moment, he added a second one, making you moan loudly.

“Look at you, taking them so well, you’re such a good girl”

The pet name, and the tone he said it in made your heart race faster than ever. You whined his name softly, wanting more than that. You wanted him, all of him.

“P-please Myeongie .. There’s condoms in the bedside table”

He smiled a bit smugly, pretty proud of the effect he has on you. He quickly retrieved a condom from the said place and rolled it on.

“Are you sure you’re ready ?”  He asked one last time, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Yes, I am. I trust you Myeongie”

He smiled and kissed you again as he pushed in, ever so slowly. He broke the kiss just to be able to hear you, see your face. He was afraid he’d see you you with an expression of pain, but all that appeared on your face was pure bliss. He said them again, the words that made your stomach twist with pleasure.

“Such a good girl, so tight for me”

He felt relieved seeing a smile on your face, and stayed still a moment once he was completely in, waiting for you to say something.

“Oh my god, for fuck’s sake please move Dongmyeong”

He laughed a little and started slow, long, passionate thrusts that made you chant his name. He kept making love to you, on that sunny afternoon, and to be honest, after that day, you only wanted him to do it.

[silyabeeodess]

Thoughts on the Balan Wonderworld Novel Preview:

Hey guys, I’m super excited about the preview drop right now, so I’d like to cover a bit of theory territory regarding what we’ve seen thus far and how it compares to the game demo.  Since this is brand new though, know that there will be major spoilers ahead, so if you’d rather, please check out the preview and/or demo first before checking below the cut:

Let’s just jump straight to the point and get to what’s probably on a lot of our minds: Lance’s new look and his--the book writes him as a ‘he,’ so don’t jump me over pronouns--description as the maestro of the Balan Theatre.  This flies in the face of everything we’ve already seen from promotional material and gameplay.  Whereas, in these, Lance clearly takes an antagonistic role by trapping inhabitants within their own hearts and turning them into monsters, the Lance presented in the book is much softer in both looks and personality.  He’s described as being “mild-mannered” and seems to assist inhabitants when they have some request about their own stage, like when Leo/Streetbeat asked him if he could have some more props.  His appearance is much more human, the tendrils on his back gone and the ones on his head replaced by flowing, silvery hair.  Please note this, as silver hair in Japanese media is often an expression of mystery, otherworldliness, or magical ability.  Think of characters like the Undertaker from Kuroshitsuji, Tomoe and Mizuki from Kamisama Kiss, and Shiro from Deadman Wonderland.  All of them were allies to their protagonists, but with much more to their characters than what we initially saw--often with darker backstories or motives that went against the main characters’.  

I don’t think the book is trying to change Balan’s and Lance’s positions as helper and obstacle: I think the book is forcing us to change our perspective through Leo’s/Streetbeat’s and Emma’s/Fighter’s eyes.

Even how we’re introduced to the theatre is different in the book compared to the game.  Following the game’s cinematic, Leo/Emma enter the theatre and are soon spotted by Balan, who briskly introduces himself before spiriting them away to Wonderworld, landing us in the Isle of Tims.  However, when Leo enters the theatre in the book, the story immediately cuts away to him on his own stage--a feature we haven’t seen in the game so far.  How would Leo have a stage? Well, what if he didn’t see Balan like in the game?  What if Lance got to him first? 

We only believe Leo and Emma would see Balan first because that’s how we’re introduced to things in the game’s cinematic. However, we ultimately can only play through one character’s eyes at a time: The cinematic may just be alluding to that choice.  It’s similar to how we can choose to play as either Elliot/Claris in Nights Into Dreams and Helen/William in Nights: Journey of Dreams: They’re two stories taking place at the same time.  We know that Balan can make duplicates of himself, but it seems more likely that he met one child first while Lance met the other.  Another point against this idea would be that both of those other games I mentioned didn’t have anything that would cause either of their main characters’ independent journeys to greatly shift the final, overarching narrative as this would; however, give me the chance to bring up some additional points.

Getting back to the fact that Leo has his own stage, we could view this as Lance having already trapped him within his own heart.  This would fit in-line with gameplay, as we’ve only seen a stage come into existence after he’s done this--turning the inhabitants into Negi bosses.  Leo has no idea how long he’s been there and there’s no indication of him even realizing how he got there.  He doesn’t even remember his real name.  There is no one in his stage except him and “a shadowlike creature at his feet,” a negati, of which he’s seen several that show no hostile signs toward him.  Then, Emma/Fighter shows up out of nowhere in a vision with Balan and Lance soon arrives before he can think too hard on it--with a clear awareness that something is on Leo’s mind.  How convenient!  Despite Leo’s insistence that “this was his stage and his alone,” he already knows this version of Lance and welcomes him as a friend who’s visited him regularly.

If Lance can trap people inside their own hearts, why wouldn’t he be able to visit them and control how he appears to them within that mindscape?  There’s no reason a warden wouldn’t have keys to his prisoners’ cells.  Meanwhile, we could see Emma taking on the player’s role as an intruder to Leo’s walled-up paradise, with her and Balan trying to break him out.  Lance only arrived by Leo’s side when something about Balan and Emma got through to him, and immediately left when he thought Leo was pacified--back into a comfortable, but unaware state.         

Lance’s behavior and dress paralleling Balan’s, his stealing Balan’s identity, is likely a way to ensure the inhabitants’ trust him: He’s their friend who allows them to stay and perfect their stages; idealized, little places based on their memories/desires--far away from their problems or anyone that might bring them up.  We can also infer that the inhabitants likely don’t  know what Lance truly looks like, given how the farmer, Jose Gallard, had his back turned to Lance when the latter appeared and turned him into a Negi in the game. 

We can question why Lance would allow inhabitants to visit each other’s worlds, but we have to consider that he may not care so long as the inhabitants don’t do something that breaks each other from their heart prisons.  After all, The Clocktower Kid/Cass Milligan is still shown to be hurting despite how many people she knows from other stages and she trusts Lance just like Leo does.  She also explained to Leo that she was able to travel to other stages through hidden passages and that “she’d found a whole bunch of secrets like that.”  The doors are “invisible,” found only by movement.  This could mean that inhabitants aren’t supposed to be able to meet each other at all, which Leo seems to instinctively know as he “felt like he should’ve asked Lance’s permission.” This could even play to Lance’s benefit at times, since they could keep each other enough company to satisfy their social needs where their own illusions and the negati cannot.  He never tells the inhabitants about others as a precaution, but if they find out, he can play it off.       

As a final point, based on the book’s emphasis on “forgetting” with both Leo and Cass’ situations, it seems like Lance’s method of “healing” a heart is really by just suppressing emotions and negative experiences.  I don’t entirely think I could call this something done out of malice though: He might just be following the idea that ignorance is bliss.  Sure, the inhabitants don’t have their memories and nothing gets resolved, but they’re kept “happy” in places literally made by their own design--a process Lance shows a genuine joy toward.  Wonderworld clearly thrives when people expand their various stages, and Lance taught both Cass and Leo how to do so.                      

That’s all I got so far.  Man, I’ve been debating on getting the game after the demo, but I will 100% pick up the book!!  I really love it and the sketchy artwork is just gorgeous!  I just wish it was coming in print, because I’ve only seen it available digitally so far.