#anyway they are going to refer back to it

[ashersanity]

— “SWEET LIKE NECTAR.”

— summary. because to whitney, there’s nothing prettier, downright satisfying to gaze upon the rosy cheeks you adopt in response to the invasive questioning, that pride of yours so amusing to patiently chip away at, piece by piece. in fact, if you could, you’d evade it altogether though that would mean defeat, wouldn’t it? and there’s nothing you detest more in this shitty world than to fucking lose.

— content warning! incest, step-cest, dub-con, coaxing, anal fucking, cream-pie, nipple sucking, lots of uh.. dirty talking, I got carried away there, big brother whitney gets a taste of his own medicine, male reader turned bastard himself, the shittiest writing known to mankind. this is a continuation to the first part ‘it’s all in the family’ which you can find here.

— word count? I freestyled that shit once again in the notes app, it is my sanctuary and you cannot take it away from me, alright?

— asher’s note. “I find that revenge is only proper and that sometimes, you need to take matters into your own hands and fuck your stupid, arrogant, big brother. balls deep.”

Moreover, you should’ve probably have expected this one measly question to slip past your older brother’s lips, leering gaze openly taking your conflicted expression in as if taunting you to properly answer. You wouldn’t lie to me, would you? ‘Course not, like you could anyway. He’d see right past it like he usually does, testing the waters — he’d call it, laying out the fresh bait for your conscious little self to latch onto immediately.

Because to Whitney, there’s nothing prettier, downright satisfying to gaze upon the rosy cheeks you adopt in response to the invasive questioning, that pride of yours so amusing to patiently chip away at, piece by piece. In fact, if you could, you’d evade it altogether though that would mean defeat, wouldn’t it?

And there’s nothing you detest more in this shitty world than to fucking lose.

Especially to this one bastard. Too damn nosy to discreetly mind his own business, y’know? Always the one to hover too close for comfort, bated breath feathering delicately against the soft skin of your flushed ear, to keep you tightly on edge. Long past that, it’s starting to get on your nerves how self-assured he is in his flawed reasoning, simply since he had you sloppily suck him off once on the worn couch and now, it’s what? Only natural to drag you around like some sort of thoughtless puppy? Shamelessly refer to you as his trained, little bitch who’ll get on his knees for the right price?

Gotta be fucking kidding then.

It was the alcohol. Nothing, but the intoxicating substance drumming along your veins that had you act in such a debauched manner, had your painfully hard cock straining against the front of your pants. Yeah. Right? That’s all there was to it. Nothing more.

At least, that’s what you keep insistently reminding yourself of despite the growing, churning heat in your stomach, the not-so-subtle twitching of your hardening cock stirring beneath your ripped jeans or the individual droplets of sweat gently trickling down the navel of your slouched back. Alright, keep fucking lying to yourself then. Surely that’ll help you with your current predicament that you’ve stuck yourself into, muddied foot deep within the shallow trenches and a solid grasp firmly placed around your ankle, threatening to snap your dignity in half.

“Well?” Visibly irritated by your lack of answer, it’s Whitney’s increasingly impatient, snappy voice that unfortunately draws you back from your spiralling calculations — whether to respond with the humiliating truth or not. Can’t let it go, can he? Hence why he so nonchalantly has you sat on his used bed, the rusted springs hidden beneath the dusty mattress alerting your every subtle movement with a distinct creak reverberating through the thin walls.

“Well, what?” Idiot, you know very damn well what he’s getting at, it’s not like you suffer from some sort of amnesiac disease to utilise cluelessness and have him fooled with such blatant tactics.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” Should be wiping that snide, awful smirk that instantly appears on his face as he carelessly articulates the question once more. Shameless in his pursuit, hungrily eyeing you up and down like an untouched piece of meat to greedily feast upon, sink his pearly, white fangs into.

Oh, thank the heavens that you weren’t consuming any sort of liquid right this moment because it would’ve been shot straight out of your throat, maybe your nose even considering the absurd sentence from your very own brother — step-brother, to be exact. Still in denial that you two could potentially call each other family, far too homely of a term than the puzzling relationship you both share. Speaking of, you haven’t replied to his question yet and by the looks of it, he isn’t looking too pleased with you if you were to stretch this on any further than it should be.

“N-No, I’ve actually fucked my fair share of girls.” Oh yeah, he’s definitely believing you with that stuttering, the uncertainty all too evident in your tone that only a complete, utter moron would’ve fallen for it. Fucking liar. It wasn’t as though you were entirely lying though, having indeed fucked a girl before, but does it really count if that same person were to be your younger sister, Kylar? At most, you’ve had your decent amount of experiences with others, dated a few girls here and there which is to be acceptable for the average boy of your age. However, beyond the intimate acts of holding hands and bashful kissing, you remained oblivious to the process of well, sex — save for the over the top, raunchy porn you’d occasionally watch and that sole encounter with Kylar that taught you far more than any cheap film ever could.

So, it’s still reasonable, is it not? Though this is Whitney you’re directly dealing with and you know better than to assume he’d take plain ‘no’ for an answer, often brash in his selfish desires. No, more like every time whenever he does act, it leads up to the very same, repetitive situation you’ve familiarized yourself to. You, beneath him. You, helpless in the face of his cruel actions.

Not this time though — fuck, that nasty, little scheme of yours slowly, but ever so surely lurking within the depths of your working mind, grateful for the blonde’s clear ignorance of the shit you were ready to commit to regain that minuscule shred of dignity back. None the wiser, preferring it’d remain that way.

And he can only sharply scoff back to your half-assed attempt at muttering obvious falsehoods. Too cunning of a bastard and god, does it mess with you. “Bullshit. You think I’d believe that? Fuckin’ cmon, admit it. You’ve never really fucked a girl before, huh?” That sickening, creeping nausea steadily filling the depths of your guts from the way he so arrogantly taunts you through his ‘light-hearted’ insults, inadvertently painting you as some sort of virgin loser that never so much as had the slightest chance of growing affectionate with another woman. Fucked your goddamn sister so that’s a one-up on you, huh? Hell, you know better than to let such an obscene admission escape you — since she’s your sister now too, that innocence you so greedily stripped away that one faithful evening within the four corners of her room.

Rather not indulge in such sinful thoughts at the moment, not when your prolonged silence is only confirming his self-righteous suspicions to which he so stubbornly convinced himself of. Knowing better than to reason with your older brother, it’s merely when you do finally relent with a reluctant nod of your head — still maintaining a thin layer of deceit, mind you — that his smug grin widens considerably in return. “So you’re an unused slut, basically.” Choice of words never was the delinquent’s forte, but his crude, frank vocabulary certainly is as he so eloquently puts it. “Hah — I fuckin’ knew it. Wouldn’t be cumming so quickly if you weren’t.” He huffs back in amusement at the sight of your apparent fluster, always so damn squirmy whenever he playfully pokes fun at one of your concealed insecurities. Oh, you really don’t know the dizzying effect you have on him, do you?

The numerous nights spent lazily fisting the base of his cock underneath the woollen covers placed over his bare, sweating body to at the very least obscure his depraved actions — not that he cared much whether he was scandalously caught or not. Much so, he’d prefer if it were you to ‘coincidentally’ walk in on him mid-jerk off session, lend a helping hand to big brother and let him use you however he saw fit. Fuck, yeah. That’d aid him in his ever growing lust for you, borderline animalistic in how he addictively sought you out as expected, like a sweet, sweet drug longing to be taken. A sweet nectar freshly ripe for the taking, plucked free from the gracious buds of the tree to gratefully sink his fangs into and savour the refreshing taste lingering on his tongue.

Feels so right to defile your prudish self, doesn’t it? So, don’t blame him then. Don’t blame him when he suggests — no, coldly orders you to strip off your damn pants which prompts another gaping stare of yours to the sudden command. Handsome, but so, so clueless, aren’t you? Needs to tell you to do everything for your sluggish brain to eventually catch up to his ever approaching rhythm, cocky grin plastered onto his lips signalling that your step-brother is indeed not kidding around as per usual.

“What’re you waitin’ for? I said, strip.” It’s not a gentle reminder nor a well-intentioned push in the right direction, it’s a repeated warning of his thinly veiled frustrations peeking its way through, past the useless restraints he placed onto himself when he could easily be given what he’s wanted. Not without force, though that is in Whitney’s nature to be as rough as possible, having grown accustomed to things going his way whenever he inevitably turned to bloodied brutality. After all, the bully doubts so himself that you don’t furtively desire this all the same too, conflicted movements headed towards the leathered loop of your belt as you willingly comply as tasked to. Good boy, knew you had it in y’a.

“Do I really gotta do this?” If it weren’t for the pretty, pink flush adorning the entirety of your face right now, your older brother would’ve definitely snapped back with a snarky remark of his own, however the sight itself is enough to let him have your dumb self uselessly hope a little further. What does it look like, little brother? Has Whitney ever backtracked on his truthful words?

“Yeah, you gotta cuz’ I told you to. Now just fuckin’ do it already, slut. I don’t got all day.”

“..Fine.” Having fully predicted such a response, heavy shoulders slouching lazily in defeat from the refusal, you shyly carry on with the clumsy strip tease of yours. Can never get your way with him, can y’a?

Goddamn it, shamefully reprimanding yourself for even following suit to his harsh retort though, can you really blame yourself? He’s got you — fucking, trained you like a dog. That’s what it is, a stupid, dumb mutt that can’t help but intrinsically cave in to its depraved instincts as his rightful owner happily taught him to, mindlessly huffing and wagging its fluffy tail to the sugary sweet praise whispered to him. Conditioning you to his every whim as a promising, rewarding treat awaiting in exchange for your dutiful obedience, not bothering to keep your remaining underwear either. Big brother knows best, huh? Look at that pitiful expression etched along your features, averting gaze straying away from his piercing own that’s settled precisely on the drooling tip of your fat, twitching cock dribbling out an alarming amount of pre-cum. How you resist the underlying temptation to automatically press your legs together, denying Whitney of that upfront, perverted view of your spread thighs. So damn easy to get you riled up in a matter of seconds when a tight, warm hole is involved in the filthy equation.

As ensured, you’ll receive as you wish, pup. Only natural to fulfill what you so gravely desire when you’ve been so good so far, right? Offer you the bearing fruits of your well-earned efforts in return while you thoughtlessly salivate over the mere idea, yeah?

“Whitney, this is kinda embarrassing..” Kinda? Practically humiliating to display yourself so lewdly like this, however not as if you hadn’t experienced this rarely either in the past few weeks that steadily transpired. Should’ve grown used to it by now, actually. Still, the lingering shyness of brazenly exposing yourself like this was too much to bear at times, especially with the other’s daunting ogling. Really has to unabashedly eye-fuck you every single time or something. It’s.. somewhat flattering to be thoroughly appreciated like this despite instinctively knowing it’s out of pure, utter objectification.

Aimlessly losing yourself in the middle of your straying thoughts, it’s the recurring shuffling of fabric carelessly being thrown onto the wooden, creaking floor that draws you back to the hazy reality before you. Fuck, a wet dream is a far more suitable term with how this is stereotypically playing out, the confident, sure movements of your older brother’s calloused hands busying themselves with the hem of his waistband and — oh, he’s surely tugging his sweats down, okay. His.. fucking dick, god — how didn’t you conveniently notice how rock hard his cock was beneath that cotton thin material? Leaving you to breathlessly gawk at the free view of Whitney’s drooling tip roughly smacking against the tensed muscles of his stomach, briefly connecting strings of pre-cum to meld with his cooling sweat. Retaking that relaxed, slouched position along the single bed as if he isn’t currently stark naked in front of your unmoving eyes. That distracting to you, huh? Horny mutt.

“Like what you see, slut?” That fucking conceited tone of his makes you want to respond with anything but an affirmative yes, though through the thick lump you swallow down your throat, it’s the muted nod of your head that further serves him to grin widely in satisfaction. Wanna prove him wrong so badly, so damn so. Yet, how can you when he’s shown you all the reasons not to?

Should’ve been paying closer attention then, baby brother. How your brain immediately shuts off in a haze of confusion, numbing static prickling at your empty mind once the blonde instead settles himself comfortably onto your awaiting lap. “Fuckin’ nice seat.” Would’ve been a more comedic remark if it weren’t for the provoking press of his bare ass flush against your pulsing cock, questionably twitching in approval from the brief physical contact. Christ, get a grip on yourself, you moron but, oh — Fuck. You could just.. fucking slip it in and it wouldn’t hurt to let Whitney take the lead as predicted, greedily relish in the slippery warmth fervently welcoming you? Since at the end of the day, you’re just a man, no? A simple man with stupidly horny urges and needs to gratefully sink his cock into the nearest wet hole that merely happens to be his big brother’s whorish one.

Still, that portion of your mind beckons you to reason along with the weirdly alluring pull of plainly muttering out fuck it, shove it in and— and, do the nastiest shit possible, y’know? Yeah, you should do it. Actually, no. No way in fucking hell should you proceed with it. Uselessly humping your hips upwards with a sickening jolt that draws a relieving sigh from the both of you. Stop it, you pervert. You’ve become no better than him, have you?

“W-What’re you doing..?” Is all you can pathetically muster to his blatantly obvious actions, knowing full well what he’s truly doing. Riling you up. Teasing along the edges of your withering limits till it collapses fully onto the ground. It’s what he does best, driving you insane on the daily from school, to outside, to home and his room you frequently pay visits to at night.

“What does it look like I’m doin’? I’m about to fuck your cute cock, pretty boy.” Pretty. Ah, that shouldn’t be your main focus with how he announces it so casually, essentially admitting he’s planning to ride you. Struggling to grasp onto the foreign concept of him, well— being on the receiving end of sex. Doesn’t he like, usually prefer to be the one in the dominant position? In fact, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he had selfishly decided to fuck your ass next, fill it to the brim with his seed. Yet, here he is, contently rubbing himself on your flushed, oozing tip, swearing gently as it barely grazes against his puckered hole, thoughtlessly clenching around practically nothing. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m only doing this to stake my claim on you, alright? Not fuckin’ fair if some bitch gets to fuck your virgin dick first so, hah— I’m making you into a proper slut. My slut.”

Very convincing, Whitney. Not so much so when he’s shuddering eagerly above you like a man about to be given the slightest taste of heaven itself, namely your cock it seems. Hot. Shit, it is a pretty hot sight, you’ve gotta admit.

So, is this purely a flimsy excuse of his to fuck himself stupid on your dick? Need that much to blindly persuade you he isn’t some sort of drooling cockwhore deep down? Nice try, big brother. Well, you can effortlessly see through his nonchalant act, the barely discernible, rosy flush dusting along his cheeks confirming his secretive, depraved and filthy desires simmering deeply within his core.

“Fuckin’ — ah, help me put it in already.” The resounding gasp escaping him is so breathy, so unlike the dominant, assertive Whitney you’ve familiarized yourself with that your lethargic brain hardly registers his direct order, sounding more like a frantic plea than anything else. Put it in? The little, stuck-up bastard is having difficulty sliding it in, resorting to your aid to lend a helping hand to his futile struggles? That’s cute. The indiscernible trace of a smirk beginning to form onto your lips from his uncharacteristically submissive demeanour, still withholding a decent amount of control in this situation here. Ah, what’re you even saying? He’s given you full leverage to wreck his tight, little hole as you happily please, fuck yourself deeper in that wet warmth you’ve been subconsciously seeking out. You’re the one cupping him within the palm of your hand, oddly contented with this newfound revelation, this switch of power dynamics.

“Can’t you put it in yourself then? It’s not that hard, is it? You’re the one always wanting to do everything so I think it’s only fair you do it.” Indulging in the scowl that appears shortly on his straining features only to dissolve under another one of his tough exteriors. “Fuck, you want me to? Can’t put it in yourself, huh?” He counters snidely, grasping for the bottle of lube conveniently placed on the night dresser nearby, accompanied by barking out a sharp huff of laughter as you cuss out loud a fuck! from the cooling, sticky mixture squirted plainly onto your cock.

“Shit! That’s cold! Why’d you pour it on me? Aren’t you supposed to put it in your— y’know? Your—“ Pausing bashfully in your tracks, immaturity running so deeply you couldn’t even properly stammer out the term if you wished to.

“My what? My ass? I’m not putting that in there, I can fuck myself on your cock just fine without that crap.” Lewd. That’s so lewd how he outwardly states it, blazing face hidden behind your cupped palms as though such a gesture would make this alright, make whatever he’s doing — smoothly grinding on the tip of your lubed, quivering length, how his hole teasingly snatches onto your flushed, leaking cock head only to disappointingly let go again. Fuck, fuck — Fuck. Doing this on purpose, isn’t he? Intent on driving you mad before he even manages to shove it in.

But, as previously stated before, there’s nothing more you hate than to lose, don’t you?

Really, he should be the one blaming himself for your rash and impulsive movements, shouldn’t be letting out that surprised yelp, silenced by a high-pitched gasp as you finally have had enough of his provoking mockery to mutter out a sharp fuck it and drive your increasingly impatient cock right in. Head stupidly thrown back in sheer shock from the unfamiliar yet admittedly pleasurable sensation of having his tight, virgin hole stuffed full of your cock right about now. Clear outline of your entire length pulsing deep within him by the noticeable quivering of his toned tummy, which you don’t hesitate to firmly plant your palm against to draw another satisfying, strangled whimper past his lips. Whore.

“Ah, fucking shit— You’re so fucking tight. Relax a bit for me or I can’t move.” Might as well be snapping your dick in half from the unbearable clenching of his unused insides, warm insides that you’re pervertedly staining white with every glide of your forceful thrusts, every harsh slam of your hips against his ass. Can’t stop yourself though — God, no. Not when the addictive heat of his hole envelops you so damn fucking well, rendering you both to mindlessly cling onto each other, entangled bodies slick with hot sweat trickling steadily down the navel of your arched backs. Namely his. And oh, he really does feel so good. Never mind all the shit he’s done, the stingy tugs of his fists deep within your messied hair, urging you to fuck yourself deeper into his trembling frame. This is the sweet taste of revenge you’ll so dearly savour, hungrily imprinting every choked moan to memory for later reminiscing.

Isn’t he so cute too? Tightening fingertips digging harshly into your shoulders for proper stability, an immediate roll of his eyes to the back of his skull whenever you angle your hips to hit that overly sensitive spot that sends a sickening jolt up his spine. Bound to be leaving marks, though that’s the least of your concerns with how goddamn pretty he looks when fucked stupid, fucked utterly brainless to match the feverish haze of his glazed over eyes. “See? I think you secretly enjoy it, Whitney. I think you— hah, fuck — enjoy that I’m taking the lead for once. ‘S that it? You like havin’ my cock inside you, huh? Like it when your little brother fucks you?” No matter how many times he may blatantly refuse and deny it, through the clawing of his nails, etching bloodied scars into your back that are sure to reside in your skin later on— You fucking know by the squeeze of his slutty hole, ring of cream having nicely settled around the base of your cock. The cocky bitch loves it.

“F-Fuckin’—“ Big brother having trouble speaking? “Bastard, shut— ah! up!” The pitiful whine echoing deeply from his throat almost makes you want to cease your endless blabbering, but y’know what? Fuck that. May as well endure the severe consequences of his actions, from the second you had arrived here, it was bound to end solely in one conclusion. You, balls deep in his ass. You, stupidly drunk off the mere act of ruthlessly fucking your older brother cuz’ shit, does it feel so amazingly good. “If you keep looking at me like that, it only— hah, makes things harder for me here. God, Whitney.. Don’t fucking stop squeezing me, ‘kay?” Not really doing any better than him either, any semblance of control within you possibly thrown out the window with every pleasurable stroke of your cock being sucked so sloppily by his stretched out hole. One thing the delinquent was right about — You being the equivalent of a dumb mutt. A dumb, drooling mutt huffing over his bare chest, depraved instincts kicking in to suck on whatever happens to be nearest and that consequently leads to your dazed gaze zeroing in on his swollen nipples.

Pretty, so fucking pretty. It’s not fair.

Deserving of every torturous inch his tight hole greedily swallows up, the sight of his neglected, puffy nipples almost too much to bear for your watering mouth.

A little taste wouldn’t hurt, would it?

How careless of you to overlook such an area that so desperately needs your loving attention too. Bad little brother you are for that, huh? “Promise to make you feel so good.” Sighing out a guttural groan as the softened pad of your thumbs find home to idly flick at the erect glands, eliciting another strangled curse from the delinquent once again. Sensitive here, isn’t he? “Shit.. Every time I touch your tits here, you tighten up like crazy, hah. Want me to suck on ‘em too?” It’s more of a fervent heads up for your upcoming actions than a polite request, pink tongue curiously poking out to glide along the sheen of sweat settled thickly on the rosy buds. “M-Motherfucker.. Don’t you fuckin’ dare— hmph!” Hastily cut off by the palm of his own hand clasped upon his mouth, he can’t help but to cave in at your perverted antics, specifically that weird obsession of yours with his chest or tits as you so obscenely call ‘em. Shivering lightly at the rhythmic lapping at his nipples which is soon followed by the roll of your tongue against the sensitive flesh, fully latching onto one of them to appreciatively suckle on. The things you do to him, a full on body shock simply from having his pretty tits toyed with, his nipples coyly sucked on by the moist engulf of your warm mouth. “W—What?? Stop, ah, that!” How the fuck do you get to him like this every damn time?

And why the hell does it have to feel so fuckin’ good too?

Screw you, really.

Having managed to get past his carefully placed barriers he put upon himself, a means of protection for his fragile pride that you so selfishly tear away at. Because it’s fun to, an absolute power rush to intently observe your slutty older brother fall apart on your fat cock, split his ass open while you’re at it. Teary eyes threatening to spill free more droplets down the length of his scarlet cheeks, bitten lips oozing fresh blood from your nipping teeth and tongue to gently suckle at as a well-deserved reward. Golden locks becoming increasingly more disheveled from every bounce on your cock, the guidance of your hands locked firmly onto his hips to witness the disappearance and reemergence of your leaking tip to reach that one single spot deep inside him.

And it’s real adorable when you draw your hips further back only to be halted by the weight of his legs wrapped securely around your waist to prevent you from pulling all the way out, so stubbornly too. “Oh, want me to cum inside?” The derisive pitch of your laughter has the blonde simmering in his humiliating position, too caught up in the intoxicating pleasure of being fucked so mercilessly like this to bother uttering out a curse of denial. Fangs bared, seething glare shot solely towards you, it’s you. Of course, it’s you who has the final say, the upper hand regardless. As always. “I-I swear to fuckin’ god, if you pull out now— I’m going to fucking kill you, asshole.” He threatens as per usual, but the shaky incoherence of his speech riddled with whiny moans discredits his shitty attempt at intimidation, coaxing you to readily follow suit to his orders.

Ah, look at him. Fucking bitch in heat.

Can’t say no to that face, can you?

“Wasn’t planning on it anyway, Whitney.” You mutter out soothingly in the shell of his ear, slightly unsettled by the softening tone you’ve taken on to address him. Is it due to the pathetic appearance he’s taken on from your relentless bullying? ‘S not fair he gets to look all cute and pouty while you’re struggling to keep up here, stuttering hips clumsily humping forward to make up for the messy pace because ah— fuck, you’re nearing your fill and so is Whitney, by the looks of it. “You can’t—“ Cutting himself off in a soundless gasp as your balls heavily smack against his ass, mind gone completely blank from the sheer euphoria of having his hole filled to the brim. Can’t? Sure, he can handle just a little more, can’t he? Cmon, he can do better than that. Drool dripping freely from his parted lips for yours to plant sloppy kisses against, stifling his open moans. Drawing your hips one last time to relish in the tight warmth of his wet insides— really, you’ll miss it, fuck— you barely get to process the thick ropes of cum spurting out of his bobbing cock, accompanied by your own climax shortly after. “S-Sorry, oh my god— I’m so sorry, you feel too good. I can’t—“ You sputter out uselessly, a hollow excuse when you continue on with your sloppy thrusts, burying yourself to the hilt to shoot your thick load into. Staining his walls white with your seed since your hips can’t stop themselves from fucking your cum deeper, not till he squirms and swears at you to stop it altogether.

Alright, so maybe you did end up going a tad bit too far this time, but it’s not like he didn’t ask for it. Or so you mumble to yourself to soothe your ever growing worries of where this may lead after the shortly lived, euphoric high you’ve just experienced. Nervously lifting your gaze to seek his as you’re greeted with.. ah, it seems you did fuck up. If anything, you’ve dug yourself a hole so steep you couldn’t possibly climb out of it now. Okay, he looks pissed. Doesn’t mean you don’t have time to mend things between the two of you, right? It’s as you finally muster up a foolish smile to meet his sour expression, that his frown significantly deepens in return.

“..So, uh. Did you like it?”

You’ve got a death wish, don’t you?

Should’ve probably expected this one. The shockingly loud slam of the wooden door closed shut on your face, promptly interrupting your frantic pleas and apologies. Heaps of dirty clothes thrown right into your arms for you to awkwardly pick up from the floor soon after. “Whitney, don’t be like that. Whitney, c’mon. I’m sorry—“ You’re not actually all that sorry, it’s just he looks too cute when angry, really.

“Fuck off!!”

Stubborn as ever, huh? At least, you’ve got to imprint those slutty sounds to memory for later use, having gotten your answer to leave him be for the time being. And oh, glancing down to be met with the sight of your still-hard, neglected cock tented pitifully against the front of your jeans has to be some sort of revenge for your previous animalistic actions, surely. Seriously? Didn’t you just cum too?

..Well, you’ve always got the bathroom to take care of that.

#I am but a man y’know.. #couldn’t be left satisfied when whitney had the upper hand in the previous part #never feels right when he’s the one that wins #..what do you mean I base reader off myself? #who said that? #you’re being crazy again #haha! cmon now. it’s time to take your pills #gaslighting? you’re making things up again #dol #degrees of lewdity #SWEET LIKE NECTAR. #whitney the bully #dol whitney #whitney dol #big brother whitney #top male reader #dom male reader #x male reader #character x male reader #asher writes

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DIRECTORS COMMENTARY PLEASE I LOVE HEARING YOUR THOUGHTS AND PROCESS <3!!!!!!!!

YEAHHH lots to say for this update

there's a scene I didn't so much as cut from the beginning of this update as significantly shorten: Wolf, Loft, Wake, and Slate are changing into their lighter outfits. Loft says the same line as having the party, Wake begs them for this one day with his Gran Gran, and they all agree they can wait. I've been trying to get better about like, not putting a ton of work into unnecessary connecting scenes, which is why I cut it down. Wake sounding more cavalier also works better for the overall chapter. But i was sad to leave this joke out lol:

may I present to you, Slate's picture gallery! he was mostly on task documenting flora and fauna but he gets a little sidetracked sometimes

I love the idea that he's just, like, kind of terrible at photography. he documents stuff for Zelda and it's always weirdly cropped and kind of out of focus, but she appreciates it anyway.

Slate is also picking flowers for the party! so he is still helping out on that front lol

idk if i've mentioned this before, but beetle does still have pincers! they're just. idk what the right word is. retractable maybe? yeah. like the ancient weapon blades

the filling of the half moon pies is pineapple :-) i was. so worried about it looking like an egg HAHA.

I thought way too hard about how they were going to cook these pies. I was originally going to draw a clay oven or some other setup, but ultimately I thought the Zelda tradition of only having pots over fires to cook was a funnier nod lol. So, they're frying the pies

believe it or not, I wrote this scene before reading dungeon meshi HAHA but it certainly served as good reference for how to set up shots for it

Aryll did in fact eavesdrop on Wake telling Tetra The Situation

That's Champion's little sister in the memory! I like the headcanon that her name was also Aryll.

Champion and his sister are making meat pies instead of pineapple ones.

One again, made a bunch of layout mistakes I ended up having to fix, except this time I didn't catch them until I had already gotten to rendering :-( if you're a patron, you probably saw these versions in the WIP:

problems here: Wolf is walking the wrong away. I was sad we'd be losing his expression but alas. And for the panels with Champion's sister, the angle is too low to be an actual POV shot. I could've left it and said he's just sitting or something probably but it was really bothering me lol so I redrew everything. and then recolored all of it. woof.

as a general rule, if he has scars, that's Slate. No scars is The Other Guy

I understand the complaint about this in BOTW, but I actually kind of like that weird moment that occurs after you finish a memory cutscene, and it just abruptly goes back to Link looking blank-faced like nothing happened. It implies this kind of....distance from the memories that I find interesting. Slate has complicated feelings abt the memories of Champion's life he gets, but like. there's pies to make

shout out to peony she's a real one

#directors commentary #bonus content #ask

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

Ok y'all it's time to join the party (very late) on my latest deep obsession, which THIS TIME I am going to allow myself to pursue instead of killing the joy (because of how intense it can get) and share with you!!

And that obsession is Epic: The Musical.

Holy smokes man this thing has remolded my brain, it just somehow hits all of those things which I desperately love in media

Firstly. The music is absolutely exquisite. And not even in the ways you'd normally think! Like--there's such wonderfully detailed soundscaping! The musical follows Odysseus on his journey home, and the songs themselves contain beautifully done effects that basically make the listening experience into a movie in your head. Monsters, crashing oceans, the underworld itself--and not only is this included in non-muscial sound design, it's incorporated into the music itself. The realm of the wind gods uses flutes as the main instrument--because it's a WIND instrument I'm losing my mind

PLUS there's the additional elements of musical "Easter eggs," thematic connections, leitmotifs, instrumentation identification, musical callbacks and even foreshadowing like come ONNNNN it's so well done

All of this with the added bonus that the songs, while cohesive, do not all sound the same, and do not feel like normal musical theater songs. They are the perfect mix between modern music, orchestral arrangements, and a musical theater jam, because they are 1. SUPER great to belt along to, 2. Very much linked together (as explained above) and 3. Very unlike the standard, vocal-focused empty pop sound we're used to (theater) while keeping the innovative, ear-wormy, modern (pop) beat that often feels out of place in theater!

And lyrically this musical is super strong. I spent a ton more time on the music (and will likely write more at length later) because that is what got me obsessed with it, but there's also much to praise lyrically! Unlike most modern "non-theater" musicals, while you can tell at places that it has been influenced by (the ever-present) Lin-Manuel Miranda, it feels authentically unique and independent. So many songs have genuinely profound lines (check out Just a Man, the second song in the saga) and the pop elements never lend themselves to empty repetition. Everything sung or said has a purpose, which I am obsessed with. Yes king go off give us everything

Finally (for now) there's just the genuine love that the creator(s) have for this musical. Jay Rivera-Herrans is the brain behind it (he wrote the entire musical over several years) and like...just look at what he shares about it on his Instagram. He gets so EXCITED!! And not like PR excitement, this is like legit "I'm making silly noises because I can't contain myself" excitement!!! He reminds me of me in that sense because he has SO much love and passion for what he does and the nuance in it and the people who enjoy his work, and he shares that in an unfiltered, real, authentic way, and we need to see more of that in the world.

Anyway, if you haven't heard of it and are now interested, it's pretty easy to catch up--there are 5 of the 9 sagas out right now, but only half of the songs, and Spotify has a playlist or two that has them all in order. It's only an hour and eight minutes worth of listening and I have just listened to it through twice in two days; it really does not get old. And then if you go to Jay's Instagram the rabbit hole is deep!! And he explains a lot of the lore and symbolism and intentionality/Easter eggs in the musical!! I went through all of the content he posted, pretty much...

So there's my official hawking of Epic (if only I had gotten in on this earlier!! The "Get in the Water" song that was trending a while ago?? That's from this!!) and you should go listen to it!!!!

#epic the musical #epic the underworld saga #kay is a musical theater nerd #kay can i just catch my breath for a second #jay rivera herrans #again folks i know i am late to the hype train #but as my fixation is setting in i just HAVE to share it #so anticipate a deluge of posts when i find some good stuff to reblog (gonna check the tag right after this) #and when i go back through and make like an ultimate compliation post of musical callbacks and references from within the show #which i have a feeling i will actually follow through on doing if only for my own sake haha #anyways!! #this made me very happy and i hope you enjoy it!! #kay has a party in the tags

[nipuni]

Hey, Nipuni! First off, I want to say that i love your work sooosoooo much and i can’t even truly describe the impact it’s had on me. You’re an inspiration to me!! No matter what your interest is in i will always be a fan. I was really curious and wanted to ask, i think you’ve talked about it a looong time ago but, how long do you reckon it takes your to do your fully painted illustrations these days?? and how long do you wait before posting it, assuming you aren’t sure if you’re satisfied with it. I’ve just been struggling with overworking my art and feeling like it’s not ever ready to post so i was curious. 😟

Hello!! I'm so late to reply I'm so sorry!! Thank you so much for the kind words!! to hear that my work can have such a positive impact on someone is the greatest compliment truly 😭❤️ and thank you for sticking through all my interest hopping too haha

These days it takes me anywhere from 2 to 9 hours most of the time, non consecutive if I can help it, and I usually sleep on them at least one night before I share them. But I've held on for over a month to some just because I didn't think they looked quite right, so I keep coming back to them every now and then and do some small tweaking until I reluctantly post them either out of frustration or exhaustion haha I don't have the patience or the attention span to work on the same thing for very long to be honest, so I've adapted 😆

The truth I like to remind myself of is that once I share something all my focus shifts to my next idea every time so whether I could have done better or not doesn't matter once it is out of my hands. I can always do better on the next one, there is just the comfort of letting go and a fresh start.

I've struggled with overworking pieces to death a lot too. It stems from anxiety really so it's a matter of building confidence, the point at which art is ready to be shared is arbitrary after all. You can convey a message or idea just as effectively through the roughest of sketches to the most detailed oil painting, the rest of the work is mostly towards aesthetic value.

On the technical side of things, when you grow frustrated with a piece to the point where you start to resent it is a good indicator that you need a different course of action. Sometimes bringing in new references can help you find the issue, sometimes the problem is structural and buried under piles of unnecessary detail and you have to go back and redo or remove something you were reluctant to, and sometimes the best thing you can do is to let go and come back to it with fresh eyes when you have learned more. As for studies, working from big to small, training for speed and on a time limit has helped me. Anyway I think I've started rambling, I hope any of this helps!! Remember that art at any stage is better than no art at all!!

#nips replies #will I ever learn to be concise when asked a question #it has taken me years to hone the craft of caring more about my time than my perceived performance!! a most valuable and elusive skill #I'm dead serious

[tadpolesonalgae]

Predator and Prey[***]

Dark!Rhys x reader

a/n: Okay, so, this isn’t ‘canon’ to the Desk Pet series, it’s more like it’s set in that universe but it’s a what-if scenario! Because I read this and wanted to write a little drabble for it!!!

warnings: uh, I think it turned into angst? It’s not written to be sad, but you might read it as sad? Um, anyway, Rhys doesn’t die, he’s fine, it just cuts off dramatically. Enjoy! :) (also, reference to past noncon, please be careful)

word count: 2,638

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Velaris. 

The city of Starlight. 

Home to the High Lord, and rumoured to be a haven for dreams. 

A place to rest and recover, where the colours shone brighter and the air tasted crisper. Where sleep was no longer a restless resignation but settled over its citizens fully, a night to guarantee fresh minds in the morning, relieved of aching joins or a heaviness to their eyelids. Where even the sun shone brighter, and the moon appeared like a silver coin in the sky, starlight glittering like dewdrops on a cobweb caught in the early morning light. 

And it was true—any occupant would gladly testify to Velaris’ strangely healing nature, the rare beauty that painted the streets colourful and full of life, that had the denizens struggling to remain in a foul mood for long, but then something strange happened. A small change that caused the eventual death of that wonder and healing safety. Few details were given, but it was clear something had happened. Something detrimental to the Court’s well-being. 

And one by one, the stars began winking out. 

It started with a curfew—no citizens were permitted to roam the streets past midnight, and were required to remain indoors until the sun broke across the horizon. 

Then the darkness started to feel thicker; heavier. Gone were the clear nights; the twinkling stars. Instead they were replaced with cloying shadows, a tension that wound its way through the streets and scratched slowly at doors. Searching. Hunting.  

Then at last came the beast itself. 

No one had ever seen it, but to deny its presence would be pointless. They could all feel it, they had all noticed the weight that descended across the city, the clawing tension that tightened skin and had throats constricting. No one knew what would happen if they disobeyed the curfew, what would happen if they ventured out into the night to seek out the thing that had swallowed their beloved starlight whole. 

Except you. 

————

It’s been less than a month since you escaped his bruising touch, the sharp bite of his teeth. 

Less than a month, and your body still aches with phantom pains that blister and swell as though his talons are still raking gently through your mind, plucking at your pain to keep you under his thumb. 

The cool night air is like a balm to your skin, burning hot from anxiety as the clocktower strikes twelve, and the few lights that had been illuminated are snuffed out. You watch from the small attic window as the darkness unfurls, rising from the cobbles, giving the unshakable impression that it never truly leaves but rather temporarily sinks below the floorboards, just waiting to slink out and drag you down into the earth. 

It’s why you’ve kept to sneaking into deserted attics rather that hiding out in garden sheds. 

You don’t want him to be able to find you. 

Just a few more days, that’s all you need, and you’ll be out of Velaris for good. You can worry about what you’ll do after once you’re out, for now you just need to make it past that last house. 

You’ve managed to scout out a couple nearby and have picked the one you’ll stay in for your last night. Then first thing in the morning you’ll be free. As soon as the sun breaks over the horizon, you’ll run and never look back. 

————

Your heart is pounding in your chest, wild and alive as you spring through the undergrowth, bag on your back weighed with enough to keep you going healthily for a day or two, but you’re out! 

The air tastes different, clearer and purer. Even the ground feels different, more secure in some way and you’re struck with the urge to remove your shoes and feel the grass beneath your bare soles. It’s been so long since you’ve been out in the woods that shroud the outskirts of the city, and emotion swells in your chest. 

But you don’t have time for that yet. You’re onto your next task, escaping the court as a whole. 

You’re familiar with the territory—maps were easy to locate in his study, and easier still to pluck from a draw before leaving. 

As far as you can tell you have three options that you’ve been running through ever since you made it into that last house. Option one would be the swiftest escape but also the most likely to get you caught: escaping by sea. Velaris isn’t far from the coast and you could likely make it on foot in a day and a half if you pushed yourself, but the docks would be busy and you don’t doubt he’ll be keeping an eye on them. And with his daemati powers you’d be easily recognisable to anyone he’s commanded to pull you from the ships on sight. 

Option two is to make your way southeast down to the Day Court boarders. Once you’ve crossed, safety won’t be assured but you’ll be a hell of a lot more protected than remaining in his territory. But it will take time and you aren’t sure you can afford to risk such delayed escape. It won’t be long before he begins searching further than Velaris, and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to sneak into houses unfamiliar to you which would mean being outside overnight, which will guarantee your capture. 

Option three: you remain in the Night Court and hope for him to grow bored or restless. Wait for him to make a move and reveal his cards. The last option and least favourable, one you’d only pick if the first two were ruled out for some reason. It’s a last resort—you don’t want to spend a second longer in his territory more than you absolutely must. 

Of the three, the safest would probably be to trail down the coast for the swiftest path but it’s true he might predict that, in which case you should muddle your route—keep more inland and go that way, stopping from town to town and slowly making your route South. 

Yes, that has to be the right choice. 

————

He hears the voices around him but is paying no attention to their flurried chatter, useless and completely unaware of the real problems, concerned only with menial issues that will solve nothing important. 

His violet eyes are blank as usual, expression cold and unreadable as the meeting proceeds, watching from somewhere far behind his eyes as mouths move, hands raise in gestures of outrage and demand, postures folded into defensive positions when they’re targeted. His mood darkens—how they manage to occupy themselves so fervently, how they manage to swell such unseemly waves of emotion over such meaningless topics, it’s waring his temper dangerously thin. 

It’s been nearly a month since she disappeared from his life, vanishing from the house he’d kept for her and running out into the night. He still remembers the strange emptiness he’d felt when he’d returned, tired and worn out, seeking nothing more than to fall into bed with her. Nothing more than to inhale her scent again, to feel the soft shape of her body as it slots against his own, hear the quiet noises of her breath as she tries to keep it from hitching whenever he reaches for her. The tinge of fear in her scent whenever he approaches, or the flash of terror then rage that passes behind her eyes so swiftly it leaves him slightly breathless. 

He had thought she was warming up to him. That the lack of protest had been promising, and that the steady disappearance of resistance had meant she was beginning to forget. And he had responded to that by granting her more freedom—not much, but she had access to the gardens—and being that small bit less forceful in his touch. 

Resurfacing into the current reality, the voices swarm at his mind, loud and grunting as they argue themselves in circles. 

He had been close last night, had caught her scent on the ledge of a window near the outskirts of his city, but it had been faint and days old. She will have likely made it out into the forests by now. 

Darkness unspools across the floor, his mood seeping into the room as tension spreads itself across the table, tightening around the council’s throats. 

He needs to find her soon. For her to be out in the woods, alone and near nightfall. If something happens to her…

The faelights fail, flicking softly before they wink out, and the chamber falls into silence as the absent darkness at last finishes plying the life from their bodies, at last allowing silence to settle. 

————

The boarder isn’t far now, but your heart is pounding so hard from running you’re worried he’ll be able to hear it in the few seconds it takes to inhale. 

He’s much too close for your liking, and one wrong move… 

He’s relentless in this hunt, stalking your steps as he prowls after your scent, tracking you how he’d been raised to, following the signs you’re unable to hide in the spare moments your magic deactivates. You’re lucky you’d had no reason to use it after Amarantha’s fall. 

It’s been a while since you’ve handled it, but you can temporarily go invisible to hide yourself from sight. A handy trick certainly, but it wouldn’t be enough to get past him on its own. Which is why you’re thankful for its one step further. 

For the duration you can hold your breath, it’s as if you don’t exist. You can run through the brush, step on as many twigs as you like and no one will hear. Can sidle up to birds and other creatures without them even noticing you. Even your scent is covered. Were it not for this, you wouldn’t have stood a chance of escaping. 

And yet between those breaths when you resurface into reality, he’s able to sense you. An acute awareness he’s pinned onto you that alerts him of your movements in those bare seconds. 

The darkness swarms to the position you’d been not even a minute before, and your heart stops when you spot the silhouette that’s prowling through the shadow. Tall and intimidating, perfectly cut lines stark against the inky blue of the night sky, able to make out the locks of blue-black hair that glint like raven’s feathers beneath the sliver of moonlight. 

Terror filters through your blood as he calls your name, pausing at the foot of the tree you’d been at, glancing at the ground before his violet eyes skim the surrounding area. 

Nails dig into your palms when his attention pauses on you, watching the darkness between the trees that you’re hidden in, brows narrowing ever so slightly. 

It’s impossible. There’s no way for him to know where you are. Your scent is covered, and noise you make is absolutely annulled, your presence itself entirely smothered, so how? 

You don’t waste time considering it—how sharp his senses must be—keeping your breath held as you dart away, running for your life through the darkness of the woods. The boarder of Day is still far off, there’s no way you’ll be able to reach it before the sun rises. 

He’s going to find you. 

He’s going to take you back. 

Your lungs are burning, and you’re forced to yield another gasping breath before returning into that invisible pocket that’s keeping you separate from him. 

In that one second you feel as he shifts, the immensity of his power concentrating to the space not even three steps behind you, and your legs fumble, giving out from terror at how close he’d come. 

You flip onto your back, scrambling away, heart pounding as he stands there, violet eyes practically glowing in the dark as he scans the surrounding area. 

You aren’t going to escape. He’ll find you with the next breath. 

Your heart stutters, pulse spiking as your trembling fingers brush the hilt of the blade at your side. 

At a normal pace you can last about four minutes, five if you’re patient and concentrating. Now, with the panic set in, the wild flutter of your pulse, you have a minute and a half. Two at most. One-hundred and twenty seconds to figure out what to do with the blade at your side and the male stood before you, blessedly unaware that you’re crumpled on the floor two strides from his feet. 

It’s simple once you think about it. 

You have a blade, and he’s unable to sense you. 

You can kill him. Or at least incapacitate him.

The realisation shocks through you, hands tightening around the hilt of the blade, banishing the tremble from your fingertips as you shakily get to your feet, standing before him as violet eyes search for a hint of your presence. 

Again your heart stutters as he somehow looks straight at you, watching the space exactly before him that, to all of his senses, should be empty. And yet. 

You look at him silently, blade grasped tightly in your hands, and you can imagine how it will feel to slide the steel up through his ribs. Even if he is High Lord, even if it’s Illyrian steel and not ash, it will be enough. 

His brows narrow almost imperceptibly, hands removing themselves from his pockets and your stomach clenches as he takes a step forward. 

It’s all you need to get you moving, your feet shoving against the ground as you run at him, pulling the blade back, allowing the breath to slip past your lips as you inhale sharply to give your muscles the air they need to stab the blade up into his chest. 

Violet eyes go wide as you appear before him, moonlight glinting on steel a fraction of a moment before it cuts clean into him, sliding through his ribs and piercing his heart. Your lip is curled, hands shaking around the hilt, fingers trembling where blood is dripping down, features twisted into an expression of frightening fury. 

Has he done that to you? 

The momentum combined with the agonising pain knocks him back, your own strength so focused on forcing the blade as deep into his rotted heart as you can that your legs give out with him, bodies falling together, crushing into the ground as his arms wrap around you. 

Disgust crawls across your skin and you think you might be sick, but you keep one hand wrapped around the hilt of the blade, meeting his horrifically familiar violet gaze as you manage to twist the steel in his chest. His features contort in pain, hot liquid burning against your palm as it saturates through the fine material of his clothes, sinking into your sleeves. 

Breath pants from his lips as he tries to steady his breathing, and you brace for whatever fury he’ll unleash upon you, already making to inhale again in order to escape, but his arm has wrapped around the base of your spine, his palm cupping your jaw so he can look at you. Violet seems to almost shudder, and you can hear the frantic pulse of his heart, skin already paler than seconds before. 

You freeze beneath that look, body paralysed at the familiar softness to his irises. How he’d look at you before…everything. 

Blood pushes from between his lips, colouring his teeth a raw red as life leaks from the wound you’ve made and it looks like he’s trying to speak. 

His hand slides from your cheek to the back of your head, settling gently down as he pulls you to his chest, a look like relief on his pained features. 

“You’re back,” he breathes, fingers stroking across your hair. “You’re back.” 

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria

rhys taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

#dark!rhysand x reader #desk pet series #dark!rhysand #dark!rhys x you #predator and prey

[therealdogsinmymind]

Okii, I saw you had some open slots so I thought Id give it a shot!!

Jinwoo with Male!childhood friend!reader who remembers everything post-regression. Reader had pretended to be oblivious ever since and planned to take his secret (feelings) to the GRAVE.

BUT eventually it slips when reader refers to their crush as "SM" when talking on a panel at an anime convention (Reader wrote a series based on the last timeline but changed things around so it would be hard to recognise) they were invited to.

The pannel is talking about childhood crushes and reader literally describes jinwoo pre-regression powers and all then saying "oh they're just a character from an old show I watched about growing up (LIE) avsndnjdn 😅😅" (reasoning was "ahahaha its not like he'll see this right? ... right??)

The issue is that jinwoo sees a recording of the panel and realizes that reader remembers EVERYTHING and needs to confront them NOW.

Here are the issues:

Jin Woo didnt even know that Reader was an Author in the first place

Reader is in ANOTHER COUNTRY and is going to stay there for a few weeks after said convention

Reader confessed their feelings assuming the other didn't feel the same before the last battle, DIED, and then had been pretending to not remember anything for years after time reset.

Reader's cosplaying (as a cute anime girl /maid with the fluffy short skirts) at the convention and having fans SIMPING for them.

All I know that Jinwoo will not be waiting for reader to come back to Korea

This is mostly Brainrot, but I hope you like it skdnkdnd!

have a good one :)

Hello There! Thank you for your request and for the wait!! I hope you like what I've cooked up!! A standard drabble for me is 300-600 words but this ended up being a little over 1,100 lmao ^^' It's only loosely edited so I hope there's nothing tooooo terribly wrong with it!

Anyway! Without further ado!

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

Be an author they said, it’ll be great, they said. 

Nobody actually said this, especially since you’ve largely kept your writing a secret from your friends and family. However your whole life you’ve been determined, and consequently you were thrilled when you were invited to America to speak at a panel about your works, who wouldn’t be? You never got to do anything like this in your last life, it was absolutely mind-blowing to even consider. However you’re not sure if this is what you wanted seeing as your fans have started to ask some invasive ass questions. 

“My childhood crush?” you repeat with a dry mouth, you really don’t want to talk about Jinwoo in front of a room full of people. Surely you can spin this, make up a story; you’re good at that. Hesitation fills you, you don’t want to admit that you’re gay to a room full of strangers but you can’t spin this tale that hard. “The only childhood crush I had is this character from a really obscure comic,” you say with a weak laugh, unfortunately they all prompt you to say more.

“Well.. He was actually a huge inspiration for my series,” you offer, cringing internally. Jinwoo will never see this, never ever, it’s fine. “This character, we’ll call him SM,” the audience groans at the hidden identity, “I can’t reveal all my secrets to you guys! I gotta have some mystery y’know? Anyway- he was this really weak guy, super cute right? Then he ends up getting like crazy strong. Not that he wasn’t hot when he looked like a wet cat, I have taste.” The audience chuckles knowingly, they get you, you have a similar character in your current series, he’s quite beloved. You clear your throat and continue, getting bolder despite the way your hands are sweating. “I’ve always been in love with him, that's why I wrote my story, I couldn’t get that, um, series… out of my head and I needed to create something of my own. It altered me in a way that I’ll never forget, and I’ll love SM until the day that I die.” The room goes quiet for a moment and you have to wipe your palms on the fluff of your stupid maid skirt. Why did you want to cosplay at this convention again? You look ridiculous up here, cat ears atop your head as you talk about some “fictional” boy like you’re deeply in love with him. You could’ve at least worn not a frilly skirt?

Suddenly the crowd goes wild clapping. “You’re so real!” Someone yells and everyone else cheers in agreement. Is that something the kids say? You’ll take it. 

The rest of the panel is much less harrowing, lots of goofing off and then the next day you have autographs and photos right after, who knew you were so popular in America? It’s quite exciting, but you’re exhausted every night when you get back to your hotel room. 

The last day at the convention you trudge back to your room, slipping your heels off and flopping face down onto your bed. Your skirt flips up and you don’t even bother to fix it, what’s the point? You’re just going to sleep like this, let the exhaustion take you. You have another two weeks of sight-seeing in America before you head home. You’re excited for it but a part of you just really misses Jinwoo, you want to call him but then he’d know you’re not in Korea.

“SM, huh?” The bed dips and a familiar voice sounds from behind you, just before hand settles on the back of your thigh. The touch barely high enough that a gloved portion of it brushes your skin above your thigh high stockings. You startle so badly you roll off the bed in the other direction. 

You hit the floor hard enough that it knocks the air out of you and you have to take a second to reorient yourself before you spring up, pointing at the intruder, “Y-you! What are you doing here!?” 

“I could ask you the same question. You up and vanished, I had to find out from a video posted of some panel that you’re not dead.”

“I’m fine, you could’ve texted! Besides! How they hell did you get here so fast!” Your voice is shrill as you round the bed, crossing your arms over your chest as you stand in front of him. 

He doesn’t reply right away, just raising his eyebrow, unimpressed. “Avoiding the question?”

“What?”

“Your childhood crush-” he starts, not needing to finish. You start stuttering out excuses, it’s not what he thinks, it came to you in a dream, you were just making stuff up, the more you talk the more you dig yourself into a hole.

Jinwoo sighs and grabs your wrist, pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and sticking his face in the crook of your neck. “Why didn’t you tell me you remember everything?” His words are quiet and pained, full of mourning. Your heart throbs suddenly aware of how painful it must’ve been for him to have to start over all by himself.

“I’m sorry.” You don’t know what else to say. You don’t know how to tell him you’ve loved him for as long as you’ve known him, in both timelines that is. Or how to tell him you were also suffering alone. Or even how to say you think you’d die without him by your side. You shakily reach up and card your fingers through his hair, exhaling a breath you’ve been holding for a little too long. 

Jinwoo makes a noise of discontent, “I don’t want an apology.” You stiffen, unsure what to do before he continues, “I want to know why you thought it was okay to let other men see you like this…” He runs a hand up your thigh, it’s a whisper of a touch. Eventually his gloved fingers sneak onto your bare skin then under a too-frilly skirt. You suck in a sharp breath. Does this mean he feels the same? When you confessed so very long ago in the other world you never got to hear an answer so suffice to say your brain is spinning as he presses a soft his to your shoulder. 

“Jinwoo-” you start. 

“Be it America, or anywhere else in the world… Any timeline… I will find you and I won’t let you slip through my fingers- never again.” He makes his intentions clear with a scrape of his uncannily sharp teeth across your skin. “And trust me, I still have some… frustrations- about you hiding your feelings from me for all these years.” He says, snapping your garter, making you yelp.Ah, the consequences of your actions, so you see. Well, perhaps you don’t mind too much if this is the outcome.

#jinwoo sung x reader #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling headcanons #sung jinwoo x reader #request

[avocadorablepirate]

What Do We Call This? - 09

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Pairing: Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Summary: On a quest to find what you've been looking for, you acquire the help of the Straw Hat pirates, who've agreed to let you temporarily join them. There are however many challenges that come along with your temporary recruitment - an alliance with a certain Trafalgar Law being one of them.

Word Count: 4.06K

Warnings: fluff, angst, kinda slow burn, swearing, the occasional OP spoiler (this chapter kinda references events that happen after the Wano arc), mentions of torture and death

A/N: It's backstory time! This chapter doesn't have much of Law in it except towards the end. Also, I kinda added my own bits to Corazon and Sengoku's characters (just how I think they would be with kids in general). But anyway, I hope you like it!

—⁠☆✿☆—⁠

(Y/N), age 5

Your parents had brought you to the little secluded cove on the island - a favourite spot of yours. You could bask in the sun, dip your toes in the water, and hunt for rare shells and artifacts that would come to shore. Although you were surprised; they rarely brought you here - deeming it fit only for special occasions, and today was no special occasion. Your parents were also not their usual selves - sitting on the beach, wrapped in each other's arms as they watched over you with small smiles.

A few hours passed - you shared a meal with your parents and then went back to looking around for rare objects. As you waddled around in the clear ocean water, your gaze focused on the sand underneath you, a faint green light that the water reflected caught your eye. You looked above you, and noticed the sky shine with an almost similar shade of green.

"(Y/N) come here," your mother calling out to you, tore your attention away from the sky and you ran to where your parents stood by a little rowboat. They pulled you into a gently hug before your father held you by the shoulder. He gave you a stern look, although you failed to notice the sad smile behind it. All of this was rather strange.

"(Y/N), we know this is a lot to ask, but we need you to sail to the next island by yourself," your father spoke with a sense of urgency, and you looked at him the same way any five year old would look at their parent after hearing what they had said.

"Some thing is coming to our island, and it can't see you here."

"But what about you?" you asked, as they gently nudged you into the boat. Your parents hesitated at your words, exchanging pained looks before they looked back at you.

"We'll meet you there," your mother assured, although you were not convinced.

"You promise?"

"Promises falter when circumstances shift," your father repeated the phrase you had heard far too many times, and you frown at him, further unconvinced.

"We'll always be with you (Y/N)," he says in one final attempt to ease your concerns, "Now go."

They each press their lips against your forehead in a light kiss, and push the boat away before you can further protest.

"Quickly (Y/N)."

Your mother's words settle in you, giving you a faint boost to do as you're told. The memory of your father taking you fishing for the first time replays in your mind. You had sat on his lap, as he gently pushed the oars, your mother who sat opposite you watching with a blissful smile. Recalling his instructions on how to move the oars, you mimic his actions, giving all your attention to the task of rowing to the next island. You only look away from what you're doing when you notice a flashing red light from the corner of your eye.

The sky is dark now, a sound similar to the clapping of thunder the only thing you can here. The waves around you are violent, your boat ready to capsize at any moment. But all you see is the explosion in front of you - your home destroyed in the blink of an eye.

A month later, on an neighbouring island

With your back pressed against the stone wall of an alleyway, you eyed the scraps of food lying on a piece of paper that served as a makeshift plate - never to be touched.

Almost a month ago a couple of kids playing along the beach had found you lying on the shore. They immediately called the adults of the village, who carried you to one of their homes and tended to your wounds. When you awoke they explained to you where you were and you broke down in tears as you recalled the events that had transpired.

Being a village almost on the brink of poverty, no one could afford to take you in. But they took pity on the child who had mysteriously appeared on the shores of their town, and would offer you whatever scraps of food they had left. Although, most of the time you refused to eat anything, hence why these scraps of food were left to rot.

"Hey kid, mind if I have a bite?"

Startled, you look up from your hunched position against the alley wall. The dim light filtering through the alley, accentuated the hollows beneath your eyes and the dirt smeared on your cheek. You blinked, trying to get a clearer image of the tall figure that loomed over you.

He resonated a sense of authority, yet there was an air of gentleness when he looked at you with concern. He offered you a warm smile and you wordlessly pushed the paper towards him.

"What's a child doing all alone in a dark alley at this time?" he asked, as he seated himself beside you, and you glared in response. The expression startled him and he choked on the stale piece of bread, but then let out a loud laugh after managing to swallow. You stared in shock at the absurd antics of the grown man as he calmed himself down and eyed you expectantly, still waiting for a response.

"My parents...," you tried to say, but couldn't get any other words out as a lump formed in your throat. Seconds later you burst into tears. The man's expression softened, as if just those words were enough for him to understand. He gently stroked your head, and you found comfort in the gesture.

"What's your name?"

"(Y/N)," you squeaked out.

"Well (Y/N), I'm Corazon. I'm going to take you to Marine headquarters. We can look after you there," he said, and you shook your head vigorously in protest.

"No! My parents said they would come for me!" you yelled in response, despite knowing there was no truth to those words.

With your elbow you shoved him in the groin, and he groaned at the sudden impact. You stood up and attempted to run away from him, but your lack of strength weighed you down and you slipped into unconsciousness as your body hit the ground.

_______________________________________________

When you awoke, you found yourself tucked into a comfy bed. The feeling of clean sheets and a soft mattress made you let out a pleased sigh as you further curled up in bed. But someone let out a soft chuckle and you sat up startled by the noise.

On the opposite end of the room sat the man from earlier, Corazon, sipping at a piping hot cup of tea which led him to nearly spill all over himself. But he quickly set down his cup and offered you a warm smile.

"Easy there, little one," he said softly, his voice carrying a soothing tone. "You gave me quite the scare when you collapsed in the alley."

You blinked, trying to gather your thoughts as you took in your surroundings. The room was simple and comforting, with sunlight streaming in through a small circular window, casting a warm glow over everything.

"Where...Where am I?" you asked, your voice still shaky from your recent outburst and subsequent collapse.

"We're on a Marine ship that will soon set sail for Marineford." Corazon replied, his voice gentle.

"No! I don't want to go! My parents are coming for me!" You jumped out of bed immediately. But once again your frail body failed you, and you collapsed to the floor, tears once more brimming your eyes.

Corazon frowned as he got up to help you, unsure of what to say. He had asked around about you, and the villagers had explained your story to him. They had even told him what you had said about your parents and the island you came from. And although some parts of it seemed out of place, it wasn't hard for him to come to the conclusion that your parents were not coming for you.

He picked you up in his arms, and for a moment you let your guard down, allowing him to whisper soft words of comfort as you leant into his embrace. "Everything will be alright (Y/N). I'll take care of you, I promise." His words snapped you out of your moment of vulnerability and you fidgeted in his grasp. With another swift kick to his stomach, he dropped you and buckled over, but was quick to recover and step in front of the door, blocking your way.

"Let me go! My parents are coming for me!" you cried again through tears, snot trickling down your nose as you sucked in a breath.

"I know you're upset, but please understand that I'm only here to help."

"Let me go or.....or...or I'll eat your treasure!" you challenged, grabbing at the small treasure chest that laid on the table he was previously sat at.

"You can't eat treasure," he said with a chuckle, having seemed to have forgotten what was hidden inside this particular treasure chest.

"I can eat this treasure!" you stated without hesitation as you pulled out the contents of the box, and he visibly gulped at the sight of the red and green fruit.

"You wouldn't...it's just some disgusting fruit." He looked from the fruit to you, unsure of your next move. "it's not even worth that much." He tried to feign uninterest in the object.

You shoved the whole thing into your mouth, your cheeks bulging out because of the fruit that now sat within. If it hadn't been for the dread that settled in him, Corazon would have found the sight cute. Instead, his mouth fell ajar and his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

As the disgusting taste of the unique fruit settled in your mouth, your gag reflexes kicked in, but you forced yourself to swallow. Despite the need to throw up, you stood proud, happy with the reaction you had got out of the man.

"Now you have to let me go!"

Corazon's eyes further widened in shock, realizing the gravity of the situation. He took a step back, his mind racing with the implications of what had just happened. "That fruit...it's a devil fruit."

Your triumphant expression faltered as his words sank in, and a sense of unease crept over you. "What do you mean? What's a devil fruit?"

"It's...complicated," Corazon began, struggling to find the right words to explain. "But now that you've eaten it, you won't be able to swim, and you'll gain a certain ability."

Your heart sank as you processed his explanation, the weight of your impulsive decision settling upon you. "I didn't...I didn't know."

Corazon sighed, his expression softening with empathy. "I know, but you don't have to worry about it. I'll do everything I can to help you. If you'll let me."

His heart ached as he watched the fear and desperation in your eyes. Despite your attempts to push him away, he couldn't ignore your vulnerable state, it reminded him too much of his younger self. As you stood there, trembling and on the verge of tears, he felt a deep sense of responsibility wash over him.

"I won't let anything happen to you," he stated firmly, his voice filled with determination. "I promise, I'll keep you safe."

Your gaze flickered with uncertainty. It was clear that you were scared and unsure, but beneath it all, there was a longing for someone to trust, someone to protect you. Corazon knelt down in front of you, his expression gentle yet resolute. "I may not be able to undo what's been done, but I can make sure you're taken care of. You're not alone anymore, (Y/N)."

Tears welled up in your eyes once more, but this time they were tears of relief. With a shaky breath, you nodded, silently accepting his offer of protection.

As he gathered you into his arms, you finally allowed yourself to let go of the fear and uncertainty that had gripped you since your world had been turned upside down. In Corazon's embrace, you found solace, knowing that you had found someone who would give you the love and protection that had been taken away from you.

(Y/N), age 8

"Cora-san~," you sang as you bounded down the staircase, Sengoku walking steadily behind you. On hearing his name, Corazon's smile widened, kneeling down with arms wide open as you ran into his embrace.

"Hey there, little one," Corazon chuckled, lifting you up in a tight hug before setting you down gently, Sengoku watching the exchange with a soft smile.

"How was your mission?" you asked excitedly, although your question was more of a way to get him to show the objects that he usually brought back for you from his countless missions.

"Y/N, he just got back. You should let him rest. Besides, it's also past your bedtime," Sengoku said in a stern but gently way, and you frowned blatantly.

"No, no, I'm fine. Let's go back upstairs and I'll tell you about it while you get ready for bed, okay? I have lots to tell you," Corazon said, giving you a toothy grin that immediately changed your mood. However, you missed the serious look he gave Sengoku.

For the past three years you had been staying in Marineford, in a small house that Corazon had got for the two of you. Though it was mainly a place to keep you away from the watchful eyes of the rest of the Marines and anyone else who would try to harm you, it also served as a place to help you learn how to use your powers. Except for Sengoku who had figured out that you had eaten the devil fruit Corazon found, everyone else was still under the impression that the fruit had been lost at sea, and you were just some little girl who Corazon had found. And just like how Sengoku had taken him in, he was doing the same for you.

Sengoku nodded silently, understanding the unspoken message from Corazon. As you skipped ahead towards the bedroom, Corazon followed, ruffling your hair affectionately as you got into bed and he settled into the seat reserved just for him.

From the door frame, Sengoku watched as Corazon sat by your bedside, recounting his mission. As he told you about his adventures, Sengoku couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth, seeing the bond between you and Corazon. Despite the dangers of the world, and the dangers he himself faced, Corazon had managed to create a safe haven for you.

"So there I was, minding my own business, and he attacked me!"

You and Sengoku looked at Corazon dumbfounded, mouths agape as you struggled to comprehend why he was laughing over the situation.

"That little troublemaker!" Corazon exclaimed, wiping a tear from his eye.

Sengoku shook his head in disbelief, while you were still shocked by the sheer audacity of the boy named Law.

"Cora-san why are you laughing? He attacked you! I don't like this Law one bit. In fact when I meet him, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind," you said with a pout. You missed the way Corazon's smile faltered for a second, before he gently patted your head as a way to comfort you.

"It's all in the past now. Besides, if I recall correctly, you hit me a couple of times as well when we first met," Corazon said, his eyes twinkling with amusement, and you blushed with embarrassment.

"But...but this is different."

"It is. But we can never fully understand why people do certain things unless we know their full story. He may have had his motives," he tried to reason, though you were still slightly unconvinced, and Corazon could tell, but he said nothing else regarding the matter.

"Anyway (Y/N), it's time you went to bed," he said as he tucked you in snuggly, and planted a kiss on your forehead. That was enough to make you sleepy, and your eyes slowly fell shut as you mumbled a 'goodnight'. There was a soft chatter between the two men as they left your room and stood outside, their voices a lot more serious now. You could faintly hear mentions of the boy Law and a few other people, but that was all. Shortly after, you drifted off into a deep slumber, and when you woke up, Corazon had already left for his next mission.

(Y/N), age 19

You rushed down the stairs as soon as you heard the front door open.

"Is it true?"

"(Y/N), I heard you snuck into the restricted library again," Sengoku said, his voice a mix of sternness and concern, as he entered the house. "How many times do I have to tell you that you could get kicked out of the Marines for something like that?"

Ignoring his scolding, you pressed on, your eyes not hiding the anger that simmered beneath the surface, "Forget about that. Is it true?"

Sengoku let out a heavy sigh, his eyes straying away from yours as he made his way further into the house, "Is what true?"

"You made Doflamingo a warlord?" you demanded, your words filled with disbelief and outrage.

Sengoku froze in his spot, gritting his teeth at the reminder of what had transpired during yesterday's meeting. He let out another sigh and looked at you with a calm expression, "It's true. The government made the decision yesterday."

You struggled to process the implications of his revelation, and were left with a mixture of anger and betrayal.

"And you didn't stop them?"

Sengoku's gaze instantly softened, understanding the turmoil that plagued you, he felt it too. "I can't go against the decisions of the World Government, (Y/N)," he explained. He sounded tired, and you knew the events of the past day had been bothering him as well. "As much as I may disagree with some of their choices, my duty as Fleet Admiral requires me to uphold their authority."

You clenched your fists, your frustration evident. "Even if it means empowering someone like Doflamingo?"

"The Government does what they believe will protect the world, and I'm not going to be the one to question them," he stated firmly, hoping you would finally drop the subject.

"If they believe giving a pirate who killed a Marine agent the freedom to do whatever he wants will protect the world, then I'd gladly be kicked out of the Navy."

With that final declaration, you turned on your heel and stormed off to your room, slamming the door shut. Sengoku had initially come knocking at your door, trying to get you to talk to him, but finally decided to give you your space.

Alone in your room, the feeling of betrayal settled over you once more. The revelation that Doflamingo, the man responsible for Corazon's death, had been given the power to do as he pleased, felt like a dagger to your heart. Memories of Corazon flooded your mind, his laughter echoing in your ears when he told you a stupid joke, his warm embrace as he comforted you. Tears threatened to fall as you recalled the days you had spent with him right to the day when you had lost him. It had taken you months to cope with the reality of his absence, but some how you had managed to pull through. Now, however, those same feelings were coming back, and you found yourself in a dark place. How could the world be so cruel to take away someone like him? Anger continued to boil within you, directed not only at Doflamingo but at the entire system that had taken away the one person you truly cared for.

In the darkness of your room, you made a decision. Unable to bear the grief any longer, you decided to leave it all behind. Marineford, with its rigid rules and compromised values, did not provide you with the comfort it once did.

A few days later, in the darkness of the night, you slipped away, your footsteps silently padding against the stone path as you made your way to the harbour. The moonlight guided you to the ship, and with one final glance at the place you once called home, you set sail on your new adventure.

_______________________________________________

"I made my way to Sabaody after that, but I couldn't stay for long because of the number of Marines there. So I ventured towards Fishman Island, and that's when it happened," you took a deep breath, as you took a break from recounting all those distant memories and remembered one that was still fresh in your mind, and Law listened intently, concern etched on his features, "I was attacked by the New Fish-Man Pirates. I tried to resist, but there were too many of them, and I couldn't use my powers on all of them at once. At some point I must have fainted because when I woke up, I was locked up in a room," your breath hitched in your throat as you recalled what had transpired after.

"It was a nightmare," you confessed, your voice heavy with the weight of the memories. "They discovered how my powers worked and forced me to torture the humans who wouldn't comply. It was either that or face death."

Law's eyes darkened at your words, his jaw clenching as anger swelled within him. But he tried to not show it for your sake, instead showing sympathy as he hesitantly took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"And you never tried to escape?" he asked, his voice soft as if he was unsure of whether to ask.

"I did," you admitted, bitterness evident in your tone. "But they caught me. They tortured me after that until I couldn't bear it any longer. I caved and promised to help them in hunting down more humans. I did some horrible things after that."

"You did what you had to to survive," Law stated, his voice laced with sympathy.

"But it was at the price of others suffering far worse," you replied remorsefully, still haunted by your past actions.

"They even sent me after Luffy and the rest of them when they arrived in Fishman Island," you confessed, your voice tinged with shame.

"What made you change your mind to help them instead?" Law pressed gently.

"Well, for starters, they were too strong," you admitted with a light chuckle at the memory of how the Straw Hats had noticed your presence almost immediately and had fought back. You had wondered at that moment whether you had purposefully made yourself known.

"They managed to knock me out, and when I woke up, I was beyond scared. Then Luffy asked me why I attacked them," you paused as you recalled being tied to the tree on the Thousand Sunny as your eyes welled up at the brink of a confession, "I explained everything to them. After that, he promised he would help me. They all did."

"That's why I'll always feel indebted to them," you concluded with a small smile as your heart swelled with gratitude for the Straw Hats. "When I was on the verge of regret, ready to give up, they helped me escape."

As you finished speaking, Law gave your hand another gentle squeeze. "I can't imagine what you've been through," he said softly, his voice a soothing presence in the dimly lit room. "But you're safe now. And...and if it's any consolation, I won't let something like that happen to you again."

Without another word, he shifted closer, and you leant into his touch, finding comfort in the warmth of his side. Much like Corazon, he offered a sense of solace amidst the memories of your past. "Thank you, Law," you whispered, grateful for his presence as you relished in the peacefulness of the moment.

You both stayed like that for a while, your backs pressed against the cold wall of the submarine. A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, the only sound your steady breaths and the soft hum of the ship's engines. Eventually, the exhaustion from the events of the night caught up with both of you, and your head fell to rest on Law's shoulder. Then, guided by the steady rhythm of his breathing, you let yourself be pulled further into unconsciousness, as unbeknownst to either of you, Law's arm instinctively wrapped around you, drawing you closer as you both drifted off to sleep.

_______________________________________________

A/N: Feel free to leave feedback! And if you have any questions or things you want to see happen (cause I probably left out something or contradicted something I wrote earlier :⁠-⁠P) do let me know, I wouldn't mind writing a couple of drabbles.

taglist: @trafalgardaria @deathsmajestysworld @cottoncandyloverrrr @magnificenttaledreamland

#law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law fanfic #one piece x reader #law x you #trafalgar law fanfiction #trafalgar law x y/n

[maniculum]

Bestiaryposting Results: Hratgrog

This week's installment is once again coming kind of late in the evening -- and a bit less wordy than usual -- because I just got back from the ICMS conference at Kalamazoo last night and have been running around doing stuff all day. So, sorry about that.

Anyway, also worth noting that a surprising number of people have indicated that they know this one.

If you aren't sure what this is about, you can find an explanation and previous posts at https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting.

You can also find the entry people are working from here:

If you want to participate in the next installment, you can find the entries posted under the tag maniculum bestiaryposting. Also, to make it easier on y'all, here's the current one:

Anyway, art below the cut in the order it was posted:

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) took the description of the animal's behavior and designed a bird who could feasibly fit that -- if you want the details on what birds went into this and why, they're in the linked post. I particularly like the iridescent effect on the feathers.

@sweetlyfez (link to post here) also drew a bird, but went in a different direction with the references, eschewing them entirely on the grounds that the monks probably didn't have any references on hand. I think the "colour of a wild sea" comes out well here.

@cheapsweets (link to post here) decided to resolve the issue of the wings being sapphire but also "sheathed in silver" by making the Hratgrog a beetle with silver elytra, which I think is quite clever. Again, the colors are very good in my opinion -- and as usual, you should check the linked post for an explanation of the design.

@coolest-capybara (link to post here) has, as per usual, done some amazing medieval stylization. I find this landscape really pleasant, birds aside. The design of the creature is also really solid, and you can find an interesting description of why it looks the way it does in the linked post. I would particularly draw attention to the interpretation of how this bird "does not live by theft", which you will have to click the link to find out.

@strixcattus (link to post here) gives us a bird that appears to be waving to us. Again, I like the coloration here; the many lines really add to the effect. Clicking the linked post will get you Strixcattus's modern interpretation of this animal, which includes a brief explanation of why it's necessary to specify that this bird does not eat corpses.

All right, to the Aberdeen Bestiary:

Or, rather, a dove.

(The distinction drawn between dove and pigeon in modern English is not formalized or universal, but the translation I'm using says "dove".)

The description for this page in the digitized manuscript notes:

This rather plain lifeless bird does not do justice to the luscious pictorial descriptions devoted to the dove on ff.26-30r. However, raking light reveals a lustrous silvered quality to the paint.

Since the description goes on so long -- like I said, I was excerpting bits of physical description from a lengthy sermon on symbolism -- there are actually multiple illustrations. It looks like there were originally four, but two have been cut out of the manuscript. The other surviving one is as follows:

That would be the Hratgrog on the left -- the bird on the right is its antagonist, the hawk. No word on why this one doesn't get any coloration.

Anyway... how do I end this one?

Go forth and contemplate the pigeon. It's what the bestiary author would want.

#maniculum bestiaryposting #hratgrog

[bl0rbohandbag]

– some vampire the masquerade x changeling the lost concepts that will not leave me alone.

"but vtm and ctl are from different settings–" shhhhhh :)

before i begin: i have been dabbling in vampire the masquerade and changeling the lost content for a while, i am not a fan of changeling the dreaming and vampire the requiem is unfamiliar to me. anyway! buckle up, enjoy the ride, this is kind of long.

trigger warning for abuse/unhealthy parental relationships because vamps i guess.

first of all: i recently read vtm: bloodstained love. while it focus on the more romantic and sexual aspects of kindred relationships with a lot of references to obsessive/posessive behavior and grotesque acts of love, it also made me wonder how those would translate to platonic or familial relationships. add some changeling shenanigans to that and we have some interesting concepts to play with! and with that being said...

– you're a changeling. kidnapped into arcadia and trapped there for who knows how long. in your durance, you dream of going back home, of reuniting with your friends and family, escaping your keeper to finally, finally enjoy freedom in the world you were born in.

– and one day, you do escape. back into your world, never feeling completely safe with your keeper looking to get you back and huntsmen being a very real threat, but you're ready to rebuild your life and enjoy your newfound freedom.

– there are various mentions throughout the ctl books on how unsuspecting or heedless changelings might have their freedom stolen again, this time by kindred. so, as it turns out, you'll have to deal with creatures other than the true fae who are more than willing to keep you caged!

the angst potential in a changeling reuniting with ther parent(s) only to find out they've become something inhuman, and not all that different from their keeper is unmatched.

maybe you watch them from a distance first. maybe you excitedly seek them out. maybe you just randomly bump into your parent by complete chance, after presuming them dead or deciding to abandon your old life. maybe they find you.

but the point is: they're kindred. so different from when you last saw them, as a teenager, as a child, before you were taken. as if having huntsmen and your keeper after you wasn't trying enough, a vampire parent comes (back) into your life to make it even more complicated.

a ventrue dad will make his ghouls your bodyguards, following you day and night. it makes you insanely uncomfortable, as you liken them to changelings serving true fae back in arcadia. he says it's because of his own dangerous kindred affairs that might affect you, but after an unplesant encounter with the huntsmen he might just decide you shouldn't be out and about at all.

your parent is either a neonate or an ancilla by the time your return from arcadia. your fetch is dead for whatever reason, expired, after living a life in your stead, automatically making the vampire believe their child is dead– now imagine their surprise and confusion when they see you– real you, living and breathing. and maybe you're distraught, too, seeing that they haven't aged a day or should, depeding on how long you've been gone, be most definetly dead.

(this is absolutely NOT going to send the vampire parent into a mental breakdown and spiral into obsession upon discovering the child they have lost and buried was literally a soulless copy of their real child who got kidnapped by faeries. a clone made out of twigs and a cat's eyes that stole their child's place and they never noticed. everything is just fine. it does not them affect them mentally at all :3)

(bonus points if the fetch was killed by the vampire parent's enemies after being entagled in their mess. they feel like they are getting a second chance and will absolutely not screw it up! cue you, poor changeling, being locked away or put under heavy surveillance.)

on the other hand, a kindred parent who currently has a living fetch of their child just being EXTREMELY distraught when they keep spotting someone who looks exactly like their kid at random places they definetly shouldn't be at is very funny and kind of unsettling!

(a vampire mom just feeding on mortals at the club, socializing with other kindred, perhaps dealing with some unresolved issues with her sire, etc. Then she spots you, her real kid, unbeknownst to her, just chilling, among all those dangerous vampires, when you're supposed to be in your dorm room at least a thousand miles from there. she calls the fetch's phone, expecting you to pick up and start explaining yourself. your fetch answers the phone, talks to her, sleep-drunk and confused as to why she's calling so late, but the person she's looking at has made no motion at all. they're not talking. they have not picked up the phone. but that's her kid's face, she's sure. what the fuck?)

for low-humanity ancillae/elder kindred, having their child back might bring about long-forgotten mortal feelings of genuine parental love, although they might express in the very unorthodox way kindred would. they simply do not understand why their child does not want to be around them. they just want to bond with you and keep you safe where kindred and fae can't get to you, make up for lost time. what do you mean they're "just like your keeeper"?

i think a lot of kindred parents will leave you be, mostly brujah or gangrel, knowing you'll be safer if they keep you away from their world. provided there was no fetch to replace you, they think it's amazing enough you were found alive and well after years of being a missing person. you don't like talking about what happened in your... "durance"... fine, they'll keep the investigators off your back, too. they might not even know you're no longer human. but they are going to check on you once in a while, or keep tabs on you, or even have some of their people watch you from a distance. just to make sure.

(just don't let them catch wind of all the changeling shenanigans or huntsmen attacks on your person. that might just change their mind...)

kindred parents might believe you're safer away from their world, yes, but they can just as easily bring you into the mess of kindred society without a second thought.

not very fun being a fairest when your toreador mother insists you show your mien to impress her fellow clan mates and other kindred with your overwhelming beauty. she's always been a pageant mom, so this shouldn't surprise you. there's several layers of wrongness to this, from having your changeling identity exposed to multiple vampires to further your mother's social status to this very situation bringing back so many unpleasant memories from your durance, and it's bound to end badly.

(the toreador pageant mom could very easily be a nosferatu pageant mom, a cleopatra now living vicariously through your fae-given beauty.)

(she will realize how terrible a mistake that was when vampires start really paying attention to you. or not. who knows.)

(gifts that could easily have come from a true fae lord start pouring in. letters written in excessive passion, bouquets of bloody roses, dresses made out of human skin, all delivered by equally dazed-looking ghouls. perhaps your mother will know, then, she fucked up severely. or maybe she'll just tell you to be grateful for those wonderful gifts.)

on another hand, a nosferatu parent taking one look at their fairest child's mien and deciding "oh. no kindred can see you like. ever. stay away from toreador specifically". you don't know what a toreador is, but you'll try to heed the advice.

your ancilla mother meets your motley and proceeds to show them baby pictures of you, taken in the 1870s shortly before your abduction to Faerie. they are very well preserved and you look most proper in your little sailor outfit.

you have a beast/ogre seeming and your gangrel parent thinks you're pretty rad :) you go hunting together.

your tzimisce dad has living furniture made out of human skin, but it's nothing you haven't seen in arcadia before. he's a little disappointed by your lack of enthusiasm, and very offended when you tell him your keeper had better taste in couches. trying to evade a tzimisce dad after he's been made aware of your existence is a difficult task, and you will get caught and held captive at one point (for your safety, of course!). if there is a fetch currently living your life, they will be immediately killed or horribly tortured (read: vicissitude) for the crime of decieving the tzimisce and impersonating you, regardless of you already having decided to leave said fetch alone.

(tzimisce dad thinks you should be thankful. he dealt with the imposter. shouldn't you be happy?)

(if he’s got cash and has some land within his domain to spare, he might let you build a little home not too far from his own to give you a semblance of independence to try and settle you down. might.)

(on the other hand, you have the chance to become a really good escape artist. take your time in captivity with your tzimisce dad to practice your escaping and running away skills, after all, every good changeling needs it! you also get the bonus of reliving your childhood/teenagehood with all the sneaking out.)

(quick intermission: all of these concepts might result in low-clarity for the changeling?? i'm not too sure how clarity damage works yet.

update: it absolutely might!)

your malkavian mother thinks she's plagued with visions of her missing child, glimpses of what they might look nowadays, wherever they are. this is actually you, visiting her in her dreams through oneiromancy.

(everyone thought, back then, that it was just a scare. you wandered into the forest and for ten hours people searched for you, only to find you safe and sound, without a scratch in your body or a speck of dirt in your shoes hours later. but she knew better. she knew that wasn't really you. it haunted her for the rest of her life, and it haunts her unlife even now. she never made it to the hedge.)

you can't take your tremere parent ANYWHERE. you give in after endless nagging and take them to a goblin market, but their arrogance will get them roped into terrible deals if you don't keep your eyes on them full time. you do take this as an opportunity to show off your changeling capabilities. you're in your element.

(you also drop life-altering bits of Faerie lore at random or inappropriate times. it sends them spiraling. you just hope they won't share it with anyone...)

darkling changeling just chilling with their nosferatu dad in the sewers, sharing rats.

and that's all for today, folks.

#i put more effort into this than i should have #child in here is being used as a gender neutral term to daughter/son just to clarify #there is a lot that can be expanded upon like. how long does it take for the changeling to figure out their parent is a vampire? #how long does it take for the vampire to figure out their child is a changeling? #there is also a very real possibility of kindred trying to embrace/ghoul their changeling child not knowing how that is not going to work #we haven't even discussed court changelings. #and let's not get into changeling blood right now lmao #that's a whole can of worms we'll open at another time. #i had vtm in mind but if you want to interpret that as vtr please feel free!! #vtm #ctl #vampire the masquerade #changeling the lost #toreador #tzimisce #ventrue #gangrel #malkavian #long post. #wod #world of darkness #chronicles of darkness

[analogwriting]

Heat Waves

Killer x gn!reader (afab edition) word count: 2.3k amab version a/n: so technically this ties in with the latest chapter of this fic - call it chapter 3.5 if you will, but it also works as its own stand alone thing sooooo here ya go. also, side note: i use the term palette which someone brought to my attention that not everyone uses in this specific context (could just be something my bio mom called it idk). in this case a palette refers to spreading out blankets, usually three or four, one on top of another - typically on a floor - making a makeshift bed. also you put a bunch of pillows on it. im not sure if there's another term for something like that - i only know it to be a palette lmao

Suddenly, you were very glad Killer thought ahead. Not only did he bring the comforters and pillows to really spruce up the bed of the truck and make it more comfortable - he also actually remembered to set it up before the two of you got to business. 

There'd been a few times where the two of you were hanging out in the truck bed and ended up getting frisky. You usually ended up with major back pain or all kinds of bruises and scratches from lack of buffer between you and the metal bed.

This time he had it all planned out and you were glad for it. You weren't going to have to think ahead or plan out exactly how to shag him while doing the least amount of damage. You didn’t have to think at all, actually.

Also, you knew that since you had riled him up earlier and then blue balled him, he was really gonna let you have it. Between that and the fact he was leaving for who knows how long - you knew you were definitely going to be feeling it the next few days. 

Good.

You felt him place a hand on your back as he kissed you feverishly, his other hand on your thigh before he moved to lay you down in the comfort of the blankets. He didn't once break the kiss as he moved you to where he had wanted you, groping the meat of your thigh, making you whine softly. 

He began to kiss your jaw and down your neck, leaving plenty of hickies in his wake. He wanted to mark you up before he left, reminders that he would be back soon enough. You gasped as you felt him bite down on your shoulder, your eyes rolling back slightly. Yeah, he definitely was in one of his more feral moods. Hell, you might not even be able to walk tomorrow.

Your body already felt like it was on fire at this point, more than excited to have Killer do whatever he wanted for however long he wanted. You’d go all night if he wanted.

Your hands found their way into his hair before tugging on it roughly, causing him to groan loudly against you. His hands made their way up your shirt, groping your chest before pulling it off of you completely. You were glad it was a summer night or you'd be shivering. Though, you did anyway from the sudden kiss of the cooler night air.

Killer covered you with kisses, his lips feather light as he ran them down your torso, nipping you here and there, leaving a few hickies. Your entire body was buzzing as you pressed into him. Each point of contact riling you up more and more, ready for him to get on with it already. You loved the light signs of affection, but it’d been a while. You were ready for him to completely use you.

It took him absolutely no time at all to take off your pants and underwear, tossing them somewhere to the side. You didn't even fully comprehend where they ended up but you hoped they didn't end up on the ground. Not the end of the world but inconvenient. 

With a sharp inhale of breath, Killer spread your legs, leaning back for a moment. 

“What?” you mumbled, face red as you looked up at him. You never really felt embarrassed or ashamed with him. You knew he loved every inch of you - inside and out.

“Mm, just enjoying my view.” He licked his lips and your heart raced. You loved it when he looked at you like he was some kind of wild animal watching his prey. 

You opened your mouth to say something smart when you felt his mouth against you. He wasted no time in dragging his tongue along your folds. The fork in his tongue gave a whole different sensation especially as he flicked at your clit, placing it in between his split as he did so. 

Ever since he split his tongue, it definitely heightened the experience for both of you. He got it from losing a bet, but it ended up working in his favor - both of your favors. 

The sudden stimulation surprised you, your eyes rolling back as a moan ripped from your chest. It was loud enough that it echoed slightly and some nightlife skittered about. You didn't realize you'd been that loud. Man, you were glad you were in the middle of nowhere. 

A small chuckle came from the man in between your legs and your face was ablaze. “W-What are you laughing at?” you mumbled, your breathing growing heavier the more filled with lust you became.

He pulled away from his assault on you for a moment to look up at you through his hair. You felt his fingers start to stroke you, your hips twitching slightly in response and a whine escaping your lips. 

“Nothing in particular, you're just cute,” he crooned. You opened your mouth to retort only to, once again, be interrupted by your own lust as he slid in one of his thick fingers. You choked on your words, immediately closing and trying to muffle the moan that threatened to erupt from you. You couldn’t think clearly, already drunk on lust.

You watched as the smug smile on his face grew. You went to roll your eyes at him only for them to roll back into your skull instead as he began to work in a second finger. Fuck, he wasn't going to let you breathe, was he?

Not that you were complaining. 

He worked on stretching you as you rolled your hips, trying to get more friction with noises that were a mix of pleasure and frustration. You just wanted him to get to the part where he destroyed you. It's been a while so you were yearning for it. He was taking it slow on purpose. The both of you knew you could handle him with ease. Hadn’t he already made you wait enough for things?!

You could feel yourself on the cusp of a climax, your breathing growing more shallow, your body growing warmer. “Fuuuck-” Then he pulled his hand from you, leaving you empty and cold. Your body shivered from the sudden lack of warmth as you looked up at him in disbelief. You let out a huff of irritation, glaring at him the best you could.

“Just a little payback for earlier, but I'm too greedy to completely stick to the bit.” And boy howdy, were you glad for that.

You were panting, vision hazy as you looked at him. It was a full moon tonight, so he was illuminated pretty well despite being where there wasn't any light from lamps and such. Fuck, he was beautiful.

“I only did that to get back at you for-” Before you could finish your sentence, he was back at attacking you with his mouth once more. His tongue plunged deep inside of you as his fingers started to rub your clit in full assault mode.

Your eyes widened and you cried out, thighs tightening around his head a bit as your body reached its sudden climax, making a mess of your boyfriend. He cleaned you up with his tongue, your hips and thighs twitching as you rode through your high. 

You were panting heavily, closing your eyes as you tried to calm yourself down. Killer pulled up, a satisfied yet hungry look on his face. Your heart raced, body growing warm all over again. He could rile you up so easily but you already knew that you do the same to him. 

He yanked his own shirt off, tossing it to the side and you admired the view. Your hands moved up, tracing over his chest before wrapping your arms around his neck. He kissed you hungrily, a small growl escaping from him. A shiver ran down your spine in anticipation, fuck. He was so hot when he was like this. 

You suddenly felt his fat head press against you. You hadn't even noticed him pull himself out or even roll on the condom. He must've done it while you were collecting yourself. 

“I love you,” he mumbled against you. Before you could return the sentiment, you felt him begin to press inside you. Your eyes widened slightly, at this point they were going to get dry with how open you were having them, and rolled back. As he pushed his way into you, your back arched, legs spreading further to make it easier for him. 

He didn't slam into you, but he didnt go slow either. Your walls were stretched around him, throbbing slightly from the sensation as he bottomed out. You felt absolutely full, your body tingling and floaty. “I love you,” you finally managed to mumble back. 

He just smiled, placing a kiss on your lips once more before getting down to business. 

Get down to business he did. He didn't fully hold back, thrusting in and out of you quickly from the jump. You were already still sensitive from your first orgasm of the night and with the rough way he'd been handling you, his fingers digging into your hips paired with more bitemarks and hickies across your skin, you were about ready to snap again. 

Your nails dug into his back, dragging them down. You weren’t going to be the only one marked up, that you were going to make sure of. As he pumped in and out of you, you started kissing and biting at his skin this time, wanting to leave him with memories of you. 

You felt yourself tightening up, this round was about to close for you. The sound of skin against skin, the breathing and moaning of you both, it almost echoed in the forest around you. 

“Killi, I-” You gasped, clenching around him as you threw your head back and cried out his name as you reached euphoria for the second time tonight. It wasn't long after that you felt his hips still as he reached his climax as well. 

The both of you were panting as you rode out your high, both twitching and trying to recover. 

You felt him move your leg up over his shoulder and you looked at him with half lidded eyes. You slurred something incoherent, trying to ask ‘again’ but garbled nonsense coming out instead. You're not even sure if any of it registered to Killer anyway with the feral way his eyes looked. Both of you were completely out of it.

Either way, you weren’t gonna complain. You kind of liked it when he was like this. Sure, you were sore for a few days but shit, it was worth it. 

You felt him raise your other leg over his shoulder. Oh, he was really gonna hit deep with this one. 

You hardly had time to prepare yourself before he pulled out for a moment. You had a feeling he was switching out the condom. Then, not moments later, he was slamming back into you. A loud cry ripped from your throat and you saw stars for a moment as the world spun around you. It didn't really hurt perse, but you were also too far lost in bliss to even really notice. It would definitely hurt tomorrow.

He pistoned his hips, fucking you hard and rough. Your legs were starting to tingle and go numb. Your nails were now digging into his biceps, dragging down before your hands dropped to your sides as you just didn't have the energy. 

You were suddenly very glad he remembered to put the blankets down or you would be suffering right now with how roughly he was pummeling you into the blankets and pillows. It provided a surprising amount of comfort. He must've brought the good blankets - which meant he had planned on absolutely ravaging you from the start.

Your eyes were glued to the back of your head at this point, body limp, and you were pretty sure you were drooling but you were too out of it to really gather your surroundings or yourself for that matter. Nothing more than his cocksleeve.

This round didn’t last as long as Killer's hips stilled once more as he reached his peak, you'd done the same right along with him, your two bodies in such sync with each other. 

Killer let your legs down and you whined slightly as you felt him move inside of you because of it. Fuck, everything was so sensitive right now. He moved, keeping himself inside of you for now as he laid on the blankets, pulling you onto his chest. You were trying hard to to be riled up as he moved around.

You just laid against him, eyes closed as you tried to stop the world from spinning. You felt like you were floating on clouds, your body still buzzing - heart pounding in your ears so loudly.

Slowly, the feeling was beginning to come back to your limbs and you were able to move. You slowly lifted yourself from Killer’s chest, looking at him with a lazy smile, still unable to fully open your eyes. 

“How you holdin’ up there?” he asked you, his voice gruff. You only hummed in response, not too sure if you could form any words let alone a sentence. You kissed him softly, before resting your foreheads together. 

A grin slowly spread across his face. “Good.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Cause I plan on using you all night.”

Your eyes widened at him, your heart racing again with excitement again. That’s all it took for your body to get hot all over again. Damn, you really loved this man.

“Fine by me,” you said, voice raw and hoarse, kissing him hard once more. You knew your voice was only going to get worse or disappear completely. It was going to be a long night.

#i wrote the bulk of this at work while slammered ayeo #but what else is new #i cant believe im closing everyday for the forseeable future fml #but those paychecks finna be sexy #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #killer one piece #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer #killer #killer x you #killer op #am fics #smut piece

[tayfabe75]

Did Taylor and Matty meet on Myspace? (And other early coincidences!)

Early on in their careers, Taylor and Matty both utilized Myspace as a way to promote their music. Taylor, specifically, would message with other teenagers on Myspace:

"I'd post my songs on my MySpace and, yes, MySpace, and would message with other teenagers like me who loved country music, but just didn't have anyone singing from their perspective."

Matty, too, described himself as "King of Myspace" when he was fifteen. But he brought it up more recently on the Ion Pack Podcast, even mentioning his age as seventeen at the time. And here's a retro clip of Taylor talking about how she wasn't some corporate entity on Myspace, if you messaged her account, you were talking to her! She also filled out her profile in her own words.

She has some things in her profile that might've caught Matty's eye, a fellow teenage country fan and fan of American music specifically, that might've emboldened him to message her:

"I love people who like my music. I love people who are nice to me. I like people who are excitable. I think it's endearing when people cry when they're happy. I'm pretty excitable too. Guys don't ask me out because they know I'll write songs about them. But I'm also the girl who still believes prince charming exists somewhere out there -- fully equipped with great hair and an immature sense of humor. I'm fascinated by black and white pictures. I like people who can be sarcastic and laugh about tense situations. I'm a fan of fans."

Say whatever you will about Matty, but that man is a genuine fan of Taylor's music. When he became a fan is open for discussion, but let's just pretend, for fun, that he found her via Myspace early on in her career.

Now, here is the old Myspace page for The 1975 back when they were known as 'Drive Like I Do' in 2008. Note the James Taylor in the list of Influences! (as well as the Jamie Squire in the top 8! How sweet, I'm sobbing!)

Taylor was a bit of a firecracker on Myspace (and not just there, there's a whole conspiracy theory she used to troll 4Chan!). A few of her comments were screenshotted and you can find them around the internet. Here are some. The one from October 31st, 2006 about a queer fellow ("I'm sorry that I'm kinda queer, it's not as weird as it appears") with a Sex van ("take your shoes off in the back of my van") really caught my eye, anyway…

"Listen my queer fellow. I thinketh we shall hangeth out sometime soon, eh? yes, I do believe I am growing fond of this idea. drive over in your sex van and come pick me up, farewell knave."

Notice the spelling here, too. Thinketh? Hangeth? Knave? Feels a little bit Shakespearean, at least for say, a sixteen-going-on-seventeen-year-old girl (as we would later discover, Love Story and Robbers were both inspired by Romeo and Juliet, both written around the same time so far as I know, but it's hard to find exact dates!)

Matty, by the way, used to refer to himself as the "Prince of the Tyne". He's also got some old Drive Like I Do lyrics from 'We Are the Streetfighters' that are suspicious to me: "Well in four thousand miles we'll meet you" (The nearest airport to Macclesfield is in Manchester, and the distance between Manchester and Nashville? Roughly 4000 miles)

Two months later on December 21st, 2006, just after turning 17 ("she can't be what you need if she's 17"), Taylor says she's in England.

Did they meet? Who knows! But there's enough weirdness there to make me wonder. Speaking of weirdness… we're going to go on a side tangent about Fearless, but that's part of the puzzle, so bear with me…

I don't know about anyone else, but when I saw Matty's Fearless Love Gaze™, I was rocked to my core! Men do not look at women like that, but especially not brand-new flings. They're too concerned with trying to look cool and unaffected. For most men (stereotypically), romance and love is "dumb" and "stupid" and perceived as a "woman thing" that men can't be bothered with. But not Matty. Matty was utterly transfixed by her. Something about that touch of mischief in the lip bite when she says the bit about "absentmindedly making me want you", the way he just barely mouths along to the words at the end of the clip, well… sirens started going off for me. So, I followed my intuition and started researching all of this.

Now, Taylor wrote the song 'Fearless' sometime in 2006. The hidden message liner note for Fearless? "I loved you before I met you". Taylor describes 'Fearless' as a song she wrote about a perfect first date she hadn't had yet, about something she didn't have but dreamt of. She debuted it for the first time on April 6th, 2007 in Reading, PA (if you don't already know it, that's two days before Matty's 18th birthday). At this show, she debuted 'Sparks Fly' (yes, in 2007! Original lyrics were brown eyes rather than green eyes, by the way) and 'Tied Together With A Smile'. She also played a cover of John Waite's song 'Missing You' which seems to be about a long-distance relationship: "And it's my heart that's breakin' down this long distance line tonight"

Speaking of Matty's birthday, the release of Fearless TV happened to coincide with Matty's birthday! She dropped a sneak peek of Fearless on his birthday in 2021, and the album would release one day later on the ninth (perhaps because albums release on Fridays and that's as close as she could get?)

Taylor describes the Fearless album as her diary from when she was seventeen (misplaced my source on that quote, d'oh!) That said, 'Love Story' interests me as well. There are some interesting facts about Love Story:

Hidden message: Someday, I'll find this. Taylor wrote this song in a very short amount of time after her parents had told her that she couldn't be with the person she wanted to be with. And in her own words:

"'Love Story' is actually about a guy that I almost dated. But when I introduced him to my family and my friends, they all said they didn't like him. All of them! For the first time, I could relate to that Romeo-and-Juliet situation where the only people who wanted them to be together were them. That's the most romantic song I've written, and it's not even about a person I really dated."

Taylor's UK television debut (like first time ever performing on TV in the UK) was on Loose Women (Matty's mother's show). Now, Denise was not there during this period as a host, but she had been before that and would be afterward, so maybe there's some significance? Maybe not. But if Taylor and Matty knew each other, he would definitely get to be in the audience to see her if he wanted to. The song she chose to perform was 'Love Story'.

Now, 'Robbers' is also based on Romeo and Juliet (and also written circa 2007), and Matty describes that here in a fan video from 2015. We'd see Romeo and Juliet imagery pop up again in 2014, both in Taylor's video for Blank Space (where she's on a balcony looking down at her lover) and in November where she stood up on a balcony at Matty's show as he serenaded her with Fallingforyou (visual comparisons here)

Blank Space, too, might reference Fallingforyou. There's a scene where she rides bikes with her lover inside her enormous house, perhaps reminiscent of Matty's lyric: "All we need's my bike and your enormous house":

Matty even dresses a bit like the lover from 'Love Story' music video at the 2017 BRITs:

When you fall down the Myspace rabbit hole, you start noticing other strange similarities in their lyrics - like Matty referring to a "girl on the screen" in 'If You're Too Shy', which perhaps parallels Taylor's "guy on the screen" in 'Karma'. In 'The 1' (another song that lyrically parallels 'Robbers'), Taylor imagines "the 1 that got away" meeting a woman on the internet and taking her home, which might be another reference to Matty, perhaps lyrically paralleling The 1975's 'Playing On My Mind'. This theory, of course, makes the entire album 'A Brief Inquiry into Online Relationships' suspect, especially given that 'Be My Mistake' is a song Matty wrote "about Nashville", the striking similarities between 'Sincerity is Scary' and 'Me!', a song called 'Mine' that references the year 2009, and the inclusion of a Drive Like I Do track Matty wrote when he was just fifteen years old, '102' (the same age he was when he was "King of Myspace"). Considering 'Love Story' was written for someone who Taylor's parents disapproved of, it makes this lyric all the more striking:

"I hope this song will remind you I'm not half as bad as what you've been told."

Lastly, if Matty is the confirmed 'Cardigan' muse and if 'Willow' is the continuation of 'Cardigan' (based on where the music video begins), the scene where she gazes into the water at her lover could perhaps represent a visual metaphor for looking through a screen, no?

Back to the NYU commencement speech! I recommend listening to the FULL clip. She talks about: feeling lonely, chatting with other teenage country fans on Myspace, and then segues into her motivation behind protecting her private life:

"Having the world treat my love life like a spectator sport in which I lose every single game was not a great way to date in my teens and twenties, but it taught me to protect my private life fiercely."

All of this seems correlated to me (also why it's hard for me to reconcile this whole football charade! But for me, it's easier to believe Taylor here about privacy being important to her, and not assume that some boyfriend kept her locked away in a dungeon against her will or something)

Now, to tie this all into a very nice bow, here's a quote where Taylor talks about how she uses easter eggs:

"Easter eggs can be left on clothing or jewelry. This is one of my favorite ways to do this, because you wear something that foreshadows something else, and people don't usually find out this one immediately, but they know you're probably sending a message. They'll figure it out in time."

What shirt was she wearing during her pap walk with Matty? Think of the "He lets her Bejeweled" meme… She had on an NYU sweatshirt.

Now, could be just a giant coincidence, trust me, I know, I get it. However… maybe she's really hinting about an old Myspace pal that she has protected fiercely. I mean, she did seem to use that speech to easter egg/foreshadow YOYOK & Labyrinth lyrics…

Speaking of 'Bejeweled'… On July 15th, 2023 Taylor flubbed the lyrics: "Sapphire tears on Myspace", and then she giggled. Freudian slip, perhaps? But this is the woman who assures us that "nothing is accidental"... and in a song that mentions a "Top 5", no less! (reminiscent of a Top 8, perhaps?)

Maybe James and Betty were involved in a "teenage love triangle" for a reason, and maybe TTPD references "teenage petulance" for that same reason… or maybe it's nothing but a bunch of eerie coincidences! Who knows! In the meantime, I'll keep on clownin'! 🤡

#tatty #maylor #taylor x matty #parallels #coincidences #early timeline speculation #theory: myspace #overlap: myspace #overlap: dixie chicks #overlap: romeo and juliet #overlap: country music #topic: drive like i do #song: fearless #song: robbers #song: love story #if you saw this on reddit five months ago in a private subreddit #yes that was me #been clownin' this theory since last july tyvm

[inthedarknessofnight]

well, well, well… here we go again… didn’t think I’d manage to get through more than one fic last week because I was busy dying of the plague (aka covid), but I basically did nothing but read fics the whole weekend so here we are

KAYA’S STEDDIE-FIC WEEK PART 3 ✨

1. Skull Rock Era by @chattre-kisses

sue me but I’m actually a sucker for fics that have Eddie and Steve meet before the shitshow that is S4… this fic mingles the Steddie plot with the actual plot of the show so masterfully and so beautifully and I think every time that I get to experience Steve’s reaction to Eddie nearly dying in the Upside Down is a blessing from the ao3 gods… so many beautiful Steddie moments in this one and when I tell you, WHEN I FINALLY REALIZED WHAT THE TITLE OF THE FIC IS REFERRING TO… besties I started bawling

2. The Edification of Steve Harrington by ChronicRabbit

realized while reading this one that I’ve read a bunch of ‘Eddie takes care of Steve’ fics, but virtually no fics where it’s the other way around… after this one, you can rest assured I will be reading every single one out there because WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK 😭 also, anyone else out there weak for protective Steve? like, I want that mf to obliterate anyone who so much as looks at Eddie the wrong way… also Steve forgetting he’s got a date with a girl because he’s too distracted by Eddie might be my new favourite Steddie trope phaha… anyways, loved this

3. To Be Loved For No Reason At All by @beetlesandstarss

another ‘Steve takes care of Eddie’ fic… idk but there’s something so hauntingly sentimental about reading fics that were being written as S4 was still coming out… we were different humans back then fr… anyways, this fic… WOW… the song recs at the beginning of every chapter, *chef’s kiss* (tbh I’m sold anytime I see Sex by The 1975 phaha, easily convinced and all that)… also, I love me a slightly angsty Eddie, can you blame me… also, HE BROUGHT HIM FLOWERS, NO ONE SPEAK TO ME FOR A WEEK AHSGSFXAHSG… the smut in this is so gorgeously intimately written, the characterization is on point… and don’t even get me started on “CAN I KISS YOU?” “WILL YOU STILL WANT ME IN THE MORNING?”… yeah, I need to go touch some grass 🥲

all in all, another great week of Steddie fics, may have cried more during this one than any of the previous ones but like I’m on my period so don’t take me too seriously lol

#steddie #fanfic #fanfiction #stranger things #eddiemunson #steveharrington #ao3 #ao3 writer #writing #steddie fic rec #fic rec #fic recommendation #weekly fic recs #fic roundup #steddie fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fanfic rec

[magget22]

Update Monday may 3rd 2024

Tbh I don’t think I’m going to be able to reach my goal by the first day of summer (38 days)but I’m going to stay consistent slow progress is still progress gotta remember consistency over perfection is the key also lost the 8 pounds I gained when I fell off a wile ago it’s different losing what Iv all ready lost back to 120 (I’m 5 foot for reference) I worked for it but I wasn’t even exited when I saw the scale pop up the number heaviest was 172 but that was 3 years ago at this point hard to believe anyway today walked 13k steps and worked out a lil I had a chocolate croissant a bite of a bagel and fruit today plus some candy sticks and hard candy plus plenty of water and diet soda

(Website Is piggy.com 🐷)

#i wanna be tiny #thinspø #tw ana rant #ana buddie #@n@ tips #st4rv1ng #light as a feather #trans ed #tw skipping meals #low cal restriction #ana stats #analog #ana0rex1a #tw ana bløg #boy ana #ana y mia #i wanna lose weight #i wanna be perfect #i wanna cvt #i wanna be sk1nn1 #i wanna be pretty #tw ed but not sheeran #tw ed sheeran #tw edtwt #tw 3d vent #i wanna be slim #weight loss diet #wheight loss #ana male #i need to lose so much weight

[beesmygod]

today is webcomics day. i am bea and i make "A Ghost Story" - part 3: sketch 1

ed note from the future: this got long. its going mostly under a readmore for everyone's sake. and i didnt even finish sketching, just trying to explain what is going through my mind while trying to sketch. look, if i write down my process in exhausting detail people will realize im completely insane. this is a net benefit to anyone trying to interact with me in the future who thinks i can be reasoned with. community service. thank you for allowing me to post this shit lol

hmmm. giving up on the first few panels for right now. here's what i'm thinking about as i sketch this:

too many of my panels were talking heads or constantly relied on one point perspective. i have been trying to work against this for a while with mixed results. sometimes the result is so bad i have to scrap what i did and start over but sometimes it's "good enough for TV"* and i hit publish on it. no risks, no reward after all. can't get better if you don't try.

in this first panel, i have two people having a back and forth conversation through a weird magic hole in the floor/wall. maxine is laying on a couch with hole right above her head. homestar runner will demonstrate what i mean:

however, there are logistical problems with maxine that homestar runner doesnt have. maxine's right shoulder is dislocated, so she can't lay on that side, or any side that would put pressure on the joint. im realizing i don't actually know what position would be most comfortable in her situation or how she would instinctually arrange her body to avoid pain. i start looking up videos from physical therapists on how they recommend patients sleep for some ideas.

also i start looking up what women look like sleeping on couches. how does the human body fold up. because this isn't it.

anyway, this was my first effort with the first panels.

for reference, the last page ends like this:

the top left of the sketch would have been the hopi clown back on the shelf with the "camera" tilting above it to reveal maxine. while this keeps the relevant object from the previous page in frame as a piece of connective tissue between updates....i'm struggling to fit the second character in. the one talking from the hole. maybe there's still hope for this? it's not terrible. initially i nuked it but maybe i can make this work.

fuck! she needs a pillow or two to make this work. this video is right, that DOES look naturally comfortable compared to the standard fetal position that would pull the affected shoulder inward. i didn't draw any pillows into the stupid establishing shot of the office bc its not the kind of couch you are expected to sleep on!!! this is a man's business office!!! i thought i was so smart!!

basically every couch comes with decorative pillows though, and the shot of the room didn't include the wall the "camera" was up against. my 2-point perspective failure might have paid off here lol. if i can establish that the second character is talking through the hole, he can use his rayman hands to reach across the room and get the pillow for her. it can be part of his personal campaign to show maxine he means her no immediate harm. the pillows were just out of frame. lurking. ok let's try it again. uhhhh after i eat some lunch

---

*my friend kelly had an anecdote from working in animation that im going to retell badly from memory. her boss would take the work she labored over to meet by deadline and would laugh at it, saying "ah, its terrible! but good enough for TV". and while extremely mean, he had a salient point: it never has to be perfect. it just needs to be good enough to be seen. sometimes i seriously think about this anecdote when im dissatisfied with my own art. it's bad. but it's good enough for tv.

#a ghost story #web comics #webcomics #webcomic #webcomic day

[dee-morris]

Miscommunication

The family and I watched season two on Mother's Day, bc it's my day and we do what I want. (And so that I can subject people to my memes and references at random and be understood.) This was only the second time for me watching the Final Fifteen with both eyes open and the sound on. I had my comfort robe and my stuffed animals and a Xanax at hand just in case. Ended up not needing the Xanax, so, progress.

ANYWAY. I know that there's a general assumption that they're miscommunicating during the argument, but honestly? I think they both understood exactly what the other one was saying. I think Crowley recognized the threat that Metabitch posed before Aziraphale did; we saw him pacing and looking out the window waiting for him to come back. And he had to have recognized Aziraphale's "Something's Wrong" voice while he gave his sales pitch. The show gave us that bit of dialogue in episode one for a reason.

Crowley was not blind to what was going on; I think the speech was a new iteration of "Lots of spare planets up there, nobody will even notice us!" With a dash of "If not now, when?" thrown in for flavor. The split was not a misunderstanding imo, just a disagreement on how to handle the issue that was standing outside. Crowley wanted to run, Aziraphale wanted to face it head on. Neither of them were wrong. Crowley was right to not want to be an angel again. Aziraphale was right to want to tackle the issue at its source so they can actually have real peace instead of treading water indefinitely. Sometimes you can do everything right and shit still goes pear shaped.

One final thought. Now, my kids are all much cleverer than me, and they like the show but are not obsessed with it. As such I frequently consult them on ideas and metas bc they can offer an unbiased opinion. And they all unanimously agree that Crowley passed something to Aziraphale during the kiss. And that when Aziraphale touched his lips he either moved it to the side of his cheek or swallowed it. So that's neat.

Here's a happy Aziraphale bc he's pretty and I love him.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens 2 #aziraphale my beloved #good omens meta #good omens season 2

[blucifer08]

This is an odd piece with a deeper meaning for me, so I'm copying over my rant about it i posted on twitter in the readmore haha

OKAY so I know this piece looks a bit weird at first maybe but you see, when I was in college, I took an art class on Medieval manuscripts, and that mostly focused on Christian medieval manuscripts. And I'll state now-- i'm no art history expert, everything is from my memory of this class. But anyways, there were many things I loved in this class but specifically, the Beatus manuscripts/ Beato de liebana? manuscripts caught my eye. These manuscripts were commentaries on the oncoming believed apocalypse. If I remember correctly, it was approaching year 1000 and many people believed that the end of the world would be coming. And there are many beautiful pages from this manuscript and the many verions of it (as there was no printing press, artists would copy the pages over), there is one page that caught my eye. have never, once, since taking this class stopped thinking about this page. The colors are gorgeous, and I no longer remember what all of these things entail, but I come back to this page all the time. I look at many versions of it where I can find them.

And so, I've used it as inspiration, and very close reference, for a piece detailing the final days. This is very out of my art style and I don't think I'll ever do this again LOL but it was really fun to try and mimic to some degree. I obviously didn't go 1:1, but I wanted to do something like it. I could probably write an essay on some of the choices I made and why characters are where they are but I think I'll leave it be. This is like a love letter to that page of the beatus manuscripts more than anything. It's lived in my head for so long, and i'm very grateful to this page for the inspiration it's given me over the years. It's very important to me. I can't fully explain why.

#my art #ffxiv #endwalker spoilers #endwalker #shadowbringers #shadowbringers spoilers