#actually i was skimming it before i sent it and like. there's still stuff to fix but like

[frannyzooey]

In The Dark: 12

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, lots of feelings— but remember, this isn’t the end ❤️

a/n: This is a long chapter - one of the longest things I have ever written, so I apologize beforehand for the pacing. It’s also the last official chapter, with an epilogue coming very shortly. I have several people to thank for helping me with this one: @wh-audens​ @the-ginger-hedge-witch​ @mourningbirds1​ @krissology​ @charnelhouse​ @imaswellkid​ - I couldn’t have done it without you all. 

Series Masterlist

-- “So I was thinking for your last night, I could take you somewhere?”

You smile, jiggling your key in the lock and when you step into your apartment, the sound of your shoes echoes on the hardwood floor; the space empty save for the essentials. 

“Oh yea? What are you thinking?”

“I was thinking it would actually be a surprise,” he replies, and you drop your backpack on the floor, making sure to keep the phone close to your ear. “I can pick you up, since you’ll have your suitcase and stuff. Then in the morning, we can, you know. I’ll drive you to the airport.”

He had agreed to do it weeks ago, but since the night you asked him, neither one of you had really brought it up. The concept had seemed so far away at that point, and then when it didn’t, you each kept pretending it still was. Maybe if you didn’t mention it, you wouldn’t have to think about it, and if you didn’t have to think about it, then you wouldn't have to feel about it. In theory, anyway. 

“Sure. Sounds good. I can just leave my key in the fridge like the landlady said, and then I should be all set. Anything………special, I should wear? For this surprise?”

He hummed at the thought, the husky sound lighting a shiver across your skin. “I mean, if you want to wear anything special for me Birdie, I’m not gonna compl–”

“I mean clothes,” you laugh. “Like, is it fancy? Or are jeans okay? As far as whatever I choose to wear underneath, you’ll just have to see.” You mind wanders to the lingerie store a couple blocks over, the one you’ve been eyeing as a surprise for him. 

“Preferably it would be nothing, so I can tease that sweet little cunt in the car on the way over. But since that’s not what you’re asking….I would say wear a dress.”

You’re aroused into silence, and can practically hear his grin through the line at catching you unawares with the lewd statement. If he’s talking like that, he must be alone. You do the quick mental calculations on switching over to a video call right now to continue that line of thought, just to see what else he’ll say to you if you let him keep going. 

“You still there, Birdie?” He sounds all too pleased with himself, the words laced with smug satisfaction.

“I’m here.” You wander into your bedroom, sitting down on the edge of your bed. Letting yourself drop backwards onto the comforter, you keep talking. “You must be alone if you’re talking to me like that. You got time to….see what I’m up to? I just got home, and I’m in my bedroom now. You know, if you wanna switch to video.”

He groans lowly and you let your fingers drift between your thighs at the sound. You can hear him breathing as he thinks and you skim the pad of your finger over the seam of your crotch before starting to undo the button of your jeans. 

“I wish I could, but I’ve got this delivery I have to make. I’m already behind, otherwise I would say fuck it.”

“You sure?” you tempt him, quieting your voice. You tug the zipper down, a tingle of anticipation in your core at the thought of him giving in and he groans again, this time almost a whine of frustration. 

“I’m sure, Birdie. God I wish I wasn’t though.”

You stop, pulling your hand back with a sigh. “Okay.”

“Maybe you can send me one of your videos though? That one you sent the other night? Jesus Christ, I’ve never seen anything like it. You –”, he stops talking, the doorbell ringing on the other end. “Shit, I forgot someone was coming to pick something up. I’ll call you later?”

“Sounds good,” you smile. Saying your goodbyes and hanging up, you stand from your bed, bending to dig through your suitcase in the corner. You pull a pair of sweatpants out, changing into them and retrieving your laptop from your bag in the living room, you sit down on the couch to get some work done. 

The window beside you is cracked enough to let in crisp spring air, the sound of dripping water, the chirp of birds and the distant, ever present din of traffic down below wafting in with the breeze. It freshens your sparse apartment, disturbed dust giving the space a musty smell as you emptied it of all personal touches over the last couple weeks. Those items had been shipped over to your new address a week or so ago, the final trip to the post office leaving you to live out of a suitcase with just the essentials. 

Work for the semester consumed you, final projects due in every class and when you didn’t have your head buried in a book or your laptop, you took what you could get of Ezra’s time. 

It was limited, something both of you knew, but neither addressed. As the date got closer, you felt an underlying panic both with how much you had left to get done and how much you had left to say and do with him. Every hour spent with him was bittersweet, and you know he felt it too. He came over more and more often, like he was insatiable for your presence, unwilling to leave. He would spend evenings on your couch as you worked, keep you on speaker from his work room when he was at home, call you every night before bed if he wasn’t in yours. 

In a strange way, there was a part of you that felt freed by your limited time. Even though you both avoided the topic of what was to become of you, it gave you a different sort of mental permission to leave nothing on the table when it came to what you wanted to do with him, and it helped that he was game for every single thing. You had never had a partner so adventurous, so open and willing or so knowledgeable to walk you through the things you were curious about. He fucked you so good and so thoroughly one night that “daddy” slipped out of your mouth - something you never thought you were into - and delighted, he spent the next couple of nights like you’d issued him a challenge, trying to coax it out of you as often and frequently as possible. 

“Vigorous” would be the best word to describe it; you were sore every night for a week. 

You would miss so many things about him - not only the sex, but his sense of adventure, his affection, his warm smile and easy laugh. The quieter, more vulnerable side he let only a few see. You would miss him, and though you tried to dance around the subject as much as possible for fear of it tainting your time left together, you could tell he would miss you too. 

–

The next day he pulls up, putting his hazard lights on to stop in front of your building and when he gets out to grab your suitcase from you, he draws you in for a quick kiss on the cheek. 

He takes a look at the entrance to your building for a moment before letting you go, and you climb in while he puts your suitcase in the trunk. Back in the car, he pulls away from the curb with a one handed steer as you fasten your seatbelt and reaching for your hand, he laces his fingers with yours. 

“You all set, Birdie?” 

“Yea, I think so? The place is empty, I left the key, got my deposit back…I think that’s everything?”

“You gonna miss it?” His eyes are on the road, his thumb dragging absentmindedly across your knuckles. 

“Yea, I think I am.”

The little apartment had been your home for a year, and even though your beginning in the city had been a lonely one, that made the sentimentality for it even stronger. When you had nothing, you had those walls, your own snug little corner in the massive, sprawling city and the once bare space had grown with you. Empty bookshelves became full, your walls became covered in art, your routine with friends and school just as comforting as your bedroom eventually had become. 

An image of Cee flashes through your mind - a rapid cycle of them actually, of all the time you had spent together in that apartment, and the ache in your chest makes you push it from your mind. Squeezing Ezra’s hand, you talk to him about his deliveries for the week and that keeps him going until he descends into a parking garage underneath a hotel. 

NoMo SoHo. A wave of affection steals over your face as you watch him navigate the garage, touched that he remembered you saying weeks ago that it was on your bucket list and the idea of seeing a new facet of Ezra fills you with tender excitement. This night was special for so many reasons, but getting to see Hotel Ezra? You wanted to memorize everything about this new experience with him, from the helpful way he took your luggage along with his overnight bag, to the confident way he checked into your room at the lobby desk, to the sneaking smile he gave you as he slipped his keycard into the door. 

His easy confidence and competency would never stop being sexy. 

“Ezra,” you said in a reverential hush, stepping inside. “This is…..my God.”

You walk through the entryway, your fingers skimming the bottom of the enormous, perfectly made bed and head straight to the floor to ceiling windows that span the length of the room. Providing an overwhelmingly beautiful view of the city below, you get as close as you can and take it all in. He sets his bag down on the carpet, coming to stand behind you and you automatically lean into his embrace. The panorama is breathtaking: miles of steel and concrete, the peaks of the iconic buildings touching the sky, the ever present lights of the city just starting to twinkle in the dusk. 

“You like it?” he murmurs into your ear. 

“Are you kidding me? How could you not?” You don’t even look at him while you say the words, still gazing out the window and he chuckles low against your back, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. 

“I wanted my Birdie to have a bird’s eye view.”

You smile, your voice warm with humor. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you.” 

He nods against the round of your shoulder, and you laugh. 

“You think this is amazing, just wait til you see the tub.”

You turn in his hold then, your eyebrows raising and he looks so mischievously pleased with himself that you can’t help but grin back. You move away, walking towards the bathroom and when you round the corner, he laughs at your audible gasp. 

“That’s the biggest tub I have ever seen in my life.” You look back at him when he follows you into the bathroom, delight spread across your features. “I’m not even kidding.”

“You wanna get in?” 

Your hands are already on the button of your pants, your feet slipping your shoes off one at a time before you discard the rest of your clothes and while the tub fills, he takes the time to admire your nude body in the reflection of the mirror. He’s stripped his clothes too, the rumpled cotton and denim dropped carelessly on the floor around your feet and his mouth is a slow, wet path along the slope of your neck, his hands braced on the cool marble counter beside your hips. He keeps kissing you after you slide into the hot water, reaching for you with wet hands that drip when he cups your cheeks to pull you in for another and another and the water sloshes around your bodies in a luxuriously decadent way as you settle between his thighs, your back to his front. 

You spend an hour or so in there, refilling the water every time it grows tepid. Laughing and talking and kissing and smoothing soap over skin, your mouths taste the clean dampness of each other every chance you get. Slow, syrupy kisses; languid in the water’s heat. You linger in the bath while he eventually climbs out and dries off, your arms resting folded on the edge of the tub with your cheek on top of them and you watch him smooth the towel over his limbs, wicking away the droplets that cling to his flushed skin. 

“Enjoying the show?” he teases. 

You shamelessly grin and nod, keeping your eyes on him as he pads out of the room. Climbing out, you wrap yourself in the thick robe that he left for you on the counter and the two of you begin getting ready for dinner like playing pretend house, domestic intimacy painting itself in every scene.

Him, clasping his watch on as he walks around in his briefs and a tight, white t-shirt. 

Him, sitting on the edge of the bed in his undershirt and suit pants, with bare feet.

You, secretly slipping on lingerie in the bathroom, hiding it under your tightly cinched robe while retrieving your dress from the suitcase. 

Him, fixing the cuffs and collar of his shirt, the clip of his dress shoes on the tiled floor when he comes to find you in the bathroom. He sets his suit coat on the counter and fools with his short curls for a moment, trying to make them lie flat. 

He’s the same old him, even if his clothes aren’t - the same disheveled hair, the same sparsely whiskered cheeks, the same grin with a deep dimple when he leans against the doorframe to watch you get ready. 

“I’m gonna go downstairs and make sure they have our reservation right. When you’re done, come find me in the bar? I’ll get us a seat - I know it can be crowded sometimes.”

You nod, fastening your earring on and he comes closer, slipping his hand around your waist. 

“You smell delicious,” he murmurs low in your ear, his hand sliding down over the curve of your backside and when he finds the hem of the robe, he gently tugs it higher. Higher still, watching you out of the corner of his eye in the mirror and when he slips his hand underneath the thick fabric in search of your panties, he finds only bare, smooth skin — and a delicately thin, taut string around the curve of your hip. 

“Hey, what are –,” he starts, trying to follow the path of it to see where it leads and you swat his hand away, laughing. 

“Don’t worry about it, mister,” you tease, reaching for your other earring. “Go get us those seats and maybe –”, your voice drops an octave lower, your hand resting on the curve of his shoulder, “ – if you’re good, I’ll let you see what I’m hiding under here.”

He hums in anticipation as his eyes darken a shade, this type of game his favorite and when he steps back to let you continue, he palms himself, adjusting as he walks out of the bathroom. 

You smile, going back to getting ready. 

—

You look incredible. 

He can’t stop thinking about it on his way down to the lobby, walking through the dimly lit bar, sidling up to it to get the bartender’s attention. 

Ordering, he waits and fiddles with his cuff, tugging at it from under his jacket sleeve. He watches your drink being made, thinking about the way you looked in that robe upstairs and debates just going back to you: stealing you away for the night, ordering room service, never letting you leave the bed or his side. 

As the bartender sets the drinks down on napkins in front of him, he takes in the frosted look of yours: the delicious, crisp liquid sitting picture perfect in the glass. He can already hear your hum of delight when you take your first sip, see the mold of your lips around the rim and the thought of it makes the corner of his mouth lift. You’ve been wanting to come here for ages; to keep you in the room would be selfish. 

Twirling his tumbler on the bar, he takes a sip of his own drink to calm the uncharacteristic nerves he’s been feeling since picking you up. Momentarily soothed in the bath, they came back with a force as he got ready and he tips the remainder of his drink into his mouth, signaling for another. His jaw shifts in thought, his palm a restless smooth over his dress pants and he wills himself to focus on this moment. You should be down soon, and he wants to give you this night as a parting gift, wanting you to remember the city (and him, if he’s honest) just like this. 

He nods his head in thanks when a new drink is set in front of him, twirling the glass again in a short circuit on top of the napkin and he tries not to think about how little time you have left. 

–

Nerves flutter lightly as you take the elevator down to the lobby, anticipation thrumming through your veins. You fidget with the neckline of your dress, tapping your clutch against your thigh and when the door dings and you step out, you let out a deep breath. 

You’ve been on dates with him before, but none of them have held the weight of this one. Your final date, on your final night. You bite your lip, reminding yourself to stop when you remember that you’re wearing his favorite shade of lipstick and as you make your way through the ornate, yet modern lobby towards the bar, you have both the urge to slow down and to run to him. 

He’s sitting at the bar, his profile to you and you take the moment to admire just how handsome he is. He’s joking with the bartender, two drinks sitting in front of him on napkins and you appreciate the open way he laughs, the crinkles deepening around his eyes. He catches your eye then, turning fully toward you as you walk over to him and you can barely breathe at the transformation of normal, casual Ezra to Ezra in a suit. 

“You look….unbelievably good. Like, gorgeous. My god.”

He smiles affectionately, pleased with himself and amused by you. “Well, thank you. I don’t dress up very often, but maybe I should.”

“Jesus, if it looks like this, then yes.” You take a step back, your eyes running appreciatively down his body and if it wasn’t so dim in the bar, you would swear you see a blush across his cheeks. He grins, pulling you closer. 

“Come here, you,” he murmurs, just before he gives you a kiss. His hand slips around your waist, his mouth a chaste press against your lips for a moment and then he’s helping you onto your stool, sliding your drink towards you. 

You feel like you’re playing pretend again, just like you did upstairs as you got ready, only this time, instead of a college student you’re a grown woman, sensual and desired, appreciated and adored and he makes you feel that way all throughout drinks, leading you to dinner when it’s time.

The dining room is absolutely gorgeous - styled like a greenhouse, you can see the whole of the night sky through the glass ceiling, the walls dripping with lush plants. Everything is romantically lit by twinkling chandeliers and candles on every table, golden lights flickering throughout the expansive room and when you’re shown your seat, they play across his face as he studies the menu. He orders a bottle of wine and given the drink you’ve already had, you’re feeling loose and carefree, the nerves of earlier gone. Instead, they are replaced with a low, heady simmering heat between your thighs that only intensifies as you look at him and when you remember what you’ve got on underneath your dress. You cross your legs, the bare skin of your upper thighs caressing against each other over the slip of the stockings you’re wearing and he’s watching you from across the table, the intimate lighting making his eyes even darker than usual. 

“To London?” he proposes, raising his glass and when you clink yours against his and take a drink of the wine, he holds his hand out on the table, palm up, waiting for yours. You slip yours into it, and he grasps it, mindlessly playing with the tips of your fingers as he looks over the menu. 

You want to eat, but you’re not sure you’ll be able to. Not when he’s looking the way he is and you can feel the heat of his hand and remember the solid, wet press of his body and the glide of his tongue over the sensitive skin of your neck and —

“What are you going to get?” he asks, looking like he can very much read your mind right now. 

“I don’t know. It all looks so good.” You pick up the menu, giving his hand a squeeze and he smiles, letting his eyes wander over you.

“It does indeed.”

–

You’re quiet when you go back up to the room, curling into his side as you walk down the hallway towards your hotel room door. The liquor you’ve drank has made you pleasantly light headed, your body loose limbed and touchy and he’s feeling the same: kissing you at the dinner table, in the lobby of the hotel, underneath the arch of fairy lights threaded throughout the signature canopy of ivy outside.

If he looked gorgeous in the dining room, it was nothing compared to how he looked under those lights just before you took a selfie with him - the soft curls covering his head lit with a golden glow, his skin even more tanned and rich against the stark white of his collar, fondness radiating from his expression as he looked down at you before looking up for the picture.  

The door clicks shut behind you, and slipping off your shoes, you make your way over to the windows again. 

It’s stunning, the city at night. Never ending, tiny squares of lights for miles and miles, cars creeping along the grid line streets with their red and white lights adding to the glow. The skyline shines against the night sky, the peaks of its buildings a golden glint. You watch people far below crossing the street, the rush of the crowd weaving its way through cars and Ezra stands a few paces behind you; your back a black silhouette against the sparkling horizon of lights. 

He admires the view for a moment before coming to join you and curling his body around yours, he rests his chin on your shoulder. His voice is quiet in the dark room. 

“Well? Did you get your fill of New York? Did it live up to your expectations?”

You hum thoughtfully, resting your hands on his forearms. 

“Amazing museums, check. Food? Double check. The bright lights? The big city? Check.”

You smirk, tilting your head to the side so he can drag his lips along the curve of your neck. “A torrid affair with a gorgeous older man who liked to bend me over the edge of the bed and make me come and touch my assh–”

“Hey,” he says sharply in a teasing scold, a giggle bubbling up from you when he nips at your skin and when you squirm in his hold, he tightens it. “That was one time.”

“That was not one time. That was all the time.”

“All the time?”

“Okay, like ten times. Seven, at least.”

He hums in agreement, relishing the memory. “You seem pretty precise on those numbers, Birdie. Like you remember each one of those times. Like you liked it.”

“Mmmm, I did.” You melt into the kisses he is pressing warm and delicate along the dip of your shoulder, turning to face him and he takes the opportunity to just look at you for a moment before bending to kiss you. Slipping your hand around the nape of his neck, you tug him closer and open your mouth to him. His hand large enough to fit the curve of your waist, he rests it warm there as he lets a soft sound of appreciation into your mouth and his other hand settles on your breast, palming the weight of it through your dress. 

“You look so fucking gorgeous tonight,” he breathes into the kiss, consuming your mouth again between praises. “I couldn’t stop thinking about coming back here. About seeing what's underneath.”

He pulls back, leaving you breathless, your lips kiss swollen. “Have I been good, Birdie? Can I see?”

This. This is the familiar space between the two of you - this need for each other, this give and take, this push and pull. These games, these filthy words, this want. The constant desire that has run through your limbs since the first time you saw each other, a magnetic ache inside your bodies that wasn’t satisfied until you fit together as one; a flush press of bare skin, no inch left untouched. 

This whole night has had an edge of nervous energy to it, but in this moment, you loosen yourself from those shackles and just revel in the way he wants you, his silhouette familiar and arousing against the backdrop of the city. 

You take a step back and standing in front of his shadowed form, you play with the tie of your dress. You leave it, instead running your fingers along the neckline and when you playfully tug it lower, he can see a peek of white cups of lace encasing the swell of your breasts. You show him just enough to get the idea, sliding your hands down your torso and down further until you reach the slit of your wrap skirt and he slips his hands into the pockets of his suit pants, watching your little tease. 

His posture is one of arrogance, one of patience that you test when you slide the fabric to the side, exposing your stockinged thigh. He straightens slightly then, his eyes narrowing in focus and you pull your skirt higher - just enough to give him a peek of your pussy: clothed in white lace, the sight almost virginal. The instant look of transparent arousal on his face is immediately evident, his jaw clenching as he lets out a low groan. 

He wants so many things: wants you to sit on his face wearing nothing but those stockings, but that seems more like a treat for him than you. Wants to fuck you while you’re wearing that tiny scrap of fabric, shoving it to the side as he makes you take him rough. Wants to make you ride him wearing it all, so he can remember just the way you look right now, in this room.

But he doesn’t do any of them. Instead, he drops to his knees, crowding you until you're forced to sit on the edge of the mattress and his hands splay over the inside of your thighs to push them open wide, making room for his shoulders. The weight of his hand drags up, sliding over your warm skin to settle over your core, cupping you through the lace. 

This. This is what he wants. For you to see how he kneels at your altar.

“I can feel how wet you already are through here,” he says, pressing his thumb along your seam, looking up at you from his kneel and you say nothing, taking a deep breath as you curl your fists into the bedding. Your breath hitches when he bends to kiss you over the lace, his hands smoothing over the silken stockings before hooking your knees over the firm rounds of his shoulders. 

He wets it with his mouth, his tongue running along the damp fabric as he keeps his eyes on you and when he pushes your dress higher up, his mouth brushes along the string of lace over the well of your hip. His fingers slip under it, sitting back on his heels to drag your panties down and off, and then he drapes your legs back in place, his mouth finding the very center of you again. The first full lick makes you arch off the bed, the second pulling a throaty moan from you and parting you with his tongue in order to coat it with every last drop of you that he can get, his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs. He had intended to build you slowly, but with every dip of his tongue through your silk, he realizes he can’t. 

He pulls you closer, your ass on the edge of the bed as he spreads you right in front of his face and it’s so erotic the way you are bathed in the light of the city for him to see everything, while he’s covered in shadow. He bends to task again, parting you hungrily with his tongue and you give into the sensation, slipping your fingers through his waves to encourage him. 

He eats you like he can’t stop, the need to consume every piece of you that he can overriding everything else. He eats you like a man starved for it, or like a man eating his last meal - devouring, savoring, forcing his tongue as deeply as possible into your slickly soaked heat and when you try to squirm up the bed at the intensity of it, he grips your hips in his hands and forces you back down, grinding his tongue against your clit. The lower half of his face is buried, a guttural groan pouring from his throat and his grip is almost painful, like he’s trying to press the memory of his hold deep into your limbs, while also doing the same with the flavor of your cunt. Branding you, as he commits you to his own memory. 

“I’m – Jesus, Ezra – I’m –” you pant, the heat building between your hips rocketing higher at his attention and need. You press the back of your head into the expensively smooth comforter, your hands restlessly searching for anything to grasp and the lights of the city shimmer bright, merging as he brings tears to your eyes. It’s so much – too much when he slips two thick fingers snugly into your cunt while sucking on your clit - and when he pulls a release out of you that’s more intense than anything you’ve ever felt with him before, the suddenness of it makes you cry out into the dark room, a sob catching at the back of your throat. 

He doesn’t stop, pulling back just enough to lave a wide stripe across your hip bone, another hungry kiss over your exposed, heaving chest, a reverential taste of your skin as he tugs your dress and the cup of your bra out of the way to draw the peak of your breast into his mouth with a suck. Your fingers are a slow, lazy slip through his hair as you try to catch your breath, and he switches to your other breast, stopping only at the whimper you let out when you feel his teeth catch on the peaked bud. 

His mouth finds yours, the salt of your release thick on his tongue and in his urgency, he settles heavy on top of you, your legs coming to wind around his waist to keep him close. He pushes his hips forward into the damp heat between the cradle of your thighs, grinding his cock against you in search of relief and you slip your hand between your bodies, seeking it out.  Squeezing him through the silken material of his trousers, you stroke him a few times, swallowing his grunt as he pushes his hips into your touch and you frantically work together to undo the clasp of his belt, then the button of his pants. Your hand pushes under the waistband to find his cock hard and thick, warm in the cradle of your palm as you feel him over his briefs and the contrast of the heat soaked cotton and the coolness of his pants is a pleasant one; the thick of him stiffening in your hand as you work him through the fabric. 

“Fuck, Birdie,” he groans, giving into your hold for a moment as he pushes his hips into it again and again and then he’s stopping, pulling back from you. His fingers work hastily on the buttons of his shirt, tossing it onto the floor before reaching up and back to tug his undershirt off and you sit up, doing the same with your dress and bra. Taking in your sprawled form on the bed, bare save for your stockings, he steps out of the rest of his clothes, the weight of his cock heavy between his thighs.

“I need to fuck you.” The words are half groan, half plead; all husk as he breathes them into your ear after crawling up over you and your silk covered legs automatically find their place around his waist, encouraging him to line up and slide inside. His deeper groan of satisfaction melds with your higher one, his hand reaching back to grasp your ankle to tug it higher and he holds onto it tight, wrapping his fingers around it as he fills you over and over. 

The tenderness in which he’s moving above you is threatening to overwhelm you, tears pricking at your eyes with how good he feels, how full and loved and cherished you are underneath him and you resist against it, while wanting nothing more than to give in.  

“I want it harder. Harder, Ezra. Please.” 

He pulls back at the request, looking down at your face. 

“Yea?” he pants, his hips snapping against yours. “Tell me how hard.” He grinds deep before pulling back, then shoving himself inside hard enough that you whine. “This hard? Harder?”

Hard enough for him to fuck the sadness from you. Hard enough for you to forget about your limited time left. Hard enough for him to leave a lingering ache in your core, so that you’ll feel it when you sit down on the plane tomorrow. Hard enough to pretend that this is just a rough fuck, not something more. Hard enough to forget, but also remember. 

“God, yes – yes,” you beg when his strokes are strong enough to jolt you underneath him and his hand curls over your shoulder, keeping you in place. His breath bursts over your skin, hot air washing over your mouth and you inhale it all; the low grunts, the rumbling groans, the murmured praise that slips from his mouth. 

His arms push underneath you, the full weight of his body dropping onto yours and his hand slips under your head to grasp your hair, the other one a steady hold against your lower back. You can barely breathe with how heavy and solid he feels on top of you, grinding you into the mattress and you hitch your knees higher, your fingers digging into the meat of his ass. He pulls back just enough for his mouth to find yours and it’s then that the sob breaks free, pouring from you before you can stop it. He kisses you right through it, taking it from you into him. 

“You’re doing so good for me. So good, sweetheart. I can’t stop. I won’t.”

“Don’t. Don’t. Please. I want it. I want you.”

“Shhh,” he soothes, his thumb brushing an errant tear from your temple, where it slides down the side of your face. “I won’t.” Every word is punctuated with a heavy exhale, his hips constantly moving. “I won’t. I won’t.”

When you come around him a few moments later, he follows - his frantic pace not stopping until he’s filled you with every last piece of him and even then he stays inside. Nudging the line of your jaw with the curve of his nose as he presses kisses along your collarbone, you guide his mouth back up and his forehead rests against yours as you breathe each other in between thick, savoring kisses. 

Eventually, he shifts to your side and you lie together in content, sated silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts. Your brain is picking up speed again, the distraction of his body now gone and though the drag of your nails is idle over his bare skin, your racing mind is anything but. 

You have hours, and that’s it. You’re going to sit here until you each fall asleep, those precious hours lost to dreams and when you wake up, it’ll be too late to voice the questions you’ve had in your mind for weeks. Your stomach churns at the potential embarrassment you might feel, but you’ll regret it every day if you don’t say something and so you take the leap, hoping he’ll be right there to catch your fall just like he always is. 

“Ezra?” you ask, lifting your cheek from his chest and he stirs from his own reverie, looking down at you. 

“Hmm?”

You look directly into his eyes, holding his gaze and when you hesitate for a moment, he waits patiently, tenderly brushing his thumb over the fine hair at your temple. 

“What….are we? Like, what’s….” you stall, looking away and biting your lip, trying to hold back a sudden heat behind your eyes. You know you should be looking at him, but you just can’t. “What’s gonna happen?”

He doesn’t answer at first, instead looking back at you so intently you can feel it without looking up. He waits you out, and when you eventually meet his gaze, the earnestness in his eyes makes you want to rush forward into his arms, to soothe him even though he’s supposed to be reassuring you. 

“I don’t —,” he starts, and then stops, thinking over his words. His eyes search yours for a moment, his expression wavering between desperation and soft, assuring resignation. “I don’t want you to hold yourself back from anything, okay?” He reaches for your hand, bringing it up to his chest to hold it there and his fingers play with yours. “I don’t want you to be thinking about me, wishing you stayed because of that. Not that I think so highly of myself to imagine you’d be so hung up on me,” he jokes, attempting to break the tension. “Though I am going to be hung up on you.” 

His tone softens when he sees a watery smile on your face, and he leans in, delicately holding the curve of your cheek in his hand. 

“I just want you to go there, and meet people, and read all the books you can get your hands on and write,” he pauses when your eyes slip shut, a small frown appearing as your face crumples, even as you nod in agreement. “And I just don’t want you to pass anything up. Not for me, not for anybody. I’ll be here when you come back, okay?” 

He doesn’t say if, though he thinks it. 

You try not to read into it, telling yourself that he’s being smart, logical, that he’s doing what is best for you but the words still sting, your chest sinking. This is a gentle let down – as gentle as it can be, for two people who never defined what they were to each other in words. He must be able to tell your disappointment, because he shifts to fully face you, draping his arm over the curve of your waist. 

“If you were staying, you know it would be different right? I can’t keep you, though I wish I could. I wish a lot of things, Birdie. I really do.”

When you don’t say anything, his face shifts into sympathy, and he pulls you into his arms, wrapping them around you. Your face fits into the warm curve of his neck, tucked into that pocket of safety and you clutch him tight, breathing him in. 

“I’m scared.”

You murmur the words, barely audible. Not having the guts to vocalize them until now, sorrow fills you from the inside out, as if the outward acknowledgement of the feeling is a physical weight, dragging you down with it. Scared of school, of failure, of living in an unknown city with no one, of what is going to happen with him – all of it. You’re scared of all of it. 

“Listen to me.” He speaks, the rumble of it vibrating against your chest and pushing through the cold wash of sadness like a comforting drape of a blanket. “You’re going to be amazing. I know it. Look at how brave you were, coming here. Doing the things you did.” He gently pulls your face from his neck, making sure you’re looking at him. “I am so proud of you. So proud. You’re gonna be brilliant, and I’m gonna be sad to miss it.”

You squeeze him tighter, burying your face into his neck as he tightens his hold on you and though it takes you awhile, that’s how you fall asleep. 

He stays awake, his hand a soothing, weighty splay over your bare back. He hopes he said the right things, even though he wants to wake you now and take them back. You have to go, he knows this, and yet — 

It’s for the best, letting you go unburdened. You might be sad, but you’ll find distractions and those distractions will help you grow even more, eventually helping ease the pain. Logistically it doesn’t work — not with your ages or your locations or your schedule — and he fights with himself in these last few moments, logic eventually winning. 

This is the right thing. 

Listening to the rise and fall of your steady, slow breathing, he buries his face into your hair and closes his eyes. 

__

Dawn breaks, light barely illuminating the room around you and you lay awake; silent above the waking city below, watching him sleep. 

__

His forearms push into the bedding around your head, his sleepy, warm mouth seeking out your own as he rocks into you again and again with his eyes closed tight; the bedside clock lighting a one hour warning as you hold him close. 

__

He holds your hand the entire way to the airport, his fingers laced with yours. 

__

Buildings line the sidewalks in your drive down the street, and knowing this would be one of the last moments you had to take in the sight of the immense, towering structures, you stare out the window. The architecture of the city is just as beautiful as it was your first day, imposingly powerful and gorgeously stoic; the brick and steel and concrete filled with lifetimes of ware. Utilitarian, modern, artsy, vintage, crumbling, new, covered in graffiti or not: you knew you would never see anything like it anywhere else. 

You didn’t mean to romanticize — there were heaps of garbage and rats and scaffolding that never went away and Time Square in particular was something that you weren’t really impressed with — but the rest of it. The rest of it you loved.

The terminal is chaotic as usual, cars weaving to and from the curb in their own intricate dance. There are people everywhere, dragging their luggage from trunks, embracing on the sidewalk, yelling goodbye before they walk through the sliding doors and when it’s his turn to find a place amongst the madness, you don’t say anything as you watch him get your suitcase from the truck and carry it over to you, where you’re standing on the curb. 

“Well, I guess this is it, Birdie.”

You nod, and he pulls you in for a hug, one that lasts longer than normal, but not nearly as long as you want. You close your eyes, feeling the solid, comforting embrace of his body against yours and he holds you tighter, his hand coming up to cradle the curve of your cheek. 

“Text me when you get there. Or call me. Whatever. No matter what time, okay?” He’s serious, his hand remaining in place to hold your gaze and when you nod, you’re close enough to tears that he can feel the hitch in your breathing when he leans in for a kiss. 

You clutch the soft, worn cotton of his shirt tightly in your fist, not wanting to let go. His mouth tastes just like it did that first night in the kitchen, just the same as the first time he came over to your house, moves against yours with the same tenderness as it has every week since - on your couch, in his car, out on the streets of the city, in the darkness of a hotel room you’ll never forget. 

“You got everything you need?” he asks, pulling away and the question reminds you of something you have in your purse. You tug a letter from your bag, handing it to him. 

“Can you give her this?”, referring to Cee, and he takes it from you, looking at the envelope. 

It’s a letter you had written the day before, several drafts of it in the trash at your old apartment; discarded and forgotten like countless letters before it throughout the years in that city. You had thought long and hard about every word, revising it just as thoroughly as you would any of your other drafts - but in the end, you threw every one of those out and just wrote from the heart. Simple, truthful, honest. 

Hope was held in the contents of that letter, and Ezra handled it just as carefully as if he knew.

“Of course.” 

He pulls you in for one last tight hug, murmuring his goodbye. 

“Goodbye,” you reply, your mouth pressed into the curve of his shoulder and then you leave him there, looking back as you walk towards the doors. He flashes you a solemn smile, his hand coming up in a wave, and then he gets into his car, looking back at you for a moment before pulling away from the curb.  

Ticket counter, security, endless walkways - you hold it all the way through until you sit down at the gate, and facing the windows looking over the tarmac, you finally break down and cry. Silent tears slide down over the curves of your cheeks, and you can’t bring yourself to care. How many tears has this airport seen? Just like the subway, you assume the number is endless and so you let them fall, reaching into your bag for a packet of tissues. 

You search around for it, your hand touching something worn and soft and frowning, you pull it out. Your face crumples when you see what it is; he must have slipped it in there when you were in the bathroom this morning. You bring the faded black fabric to your nose, inhaling it before carefully folding it up to preserve the scent and tucking his Fleetwood Mac t-shirt back into your bag, you bring your knees up to your chest on your seat, looking out the window at the tarmac and not seeing anything. 

—

Cee’s sitting in the kitchen when he gets home, turning to face the door when she hears him unlocking it. Her first thought is that he looks tired, but she can see the sorrow gathered around the edges of his eyes when he greets her, tossing his keys onto the table. 

“Everything go okay?” she asks, and he nods. She looks with empathy at him, wanting to ask more, but feeling like she shouldn’t. He doesn’t look like he wants to say much anyway, and besides, she gave that right up. 

He clears his throat, avoiding her eyes. “She, uh - she wanted me to give this to you.” He tugs the envelope from his back pocket, holding it out to her, and she takes it hesitantly, looking down at it without moving to open it. 

He looks at her for a moment, and then scrubs the back of his neck with his hand. He sighs, pushing his fingers through his curls until he drops it against the side of his leg and that’s when he looks up at her for the first time since he’s come back home. The resigned sadness in his features is evident, even more so as he tries to hide them with a small, quick smile. His fist taps against the outside of his thigh, restless. 

“I’m just – I’m gonna head to my work room for a bit. If you need me, I’ll be down there.”

He doesn’t give her a chance to answer, leaving the room as she watches. Waiting until he’s gone, she looks down at the envelope again, sitting down at the kitchen table. She stares at the familiar script of your handwriting, her thumb worrying the edge of the envelope. 

Her first impulse is to open it, even if she’s not ready to read the contents inside. She bites her lip, looking up towards the hallway. Standing, she makes her way down the hall and stopping  in her bedroom, she opens the book on her bedside table. The image of your name on the inside of the cover is identical to the one on the outside of the envelope, and she tucks the letter into the book, setting it back down.  

Walking away from it, she goes to find Ezra. 

#ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra/reader #ezra/you #ezra prospect/reader #ezra prospect/you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[haarrrys]

Hey! Would you write something about Amani getting her first period?

growing up 🍓

wc - 1.4k

🏷️ tags - dad!harry, singledad.harry, minor angst¿, dad!harry × amani, and of course, fluff.

pairings - singledad!harry & daughter!amani 🍪 🥛

summary - amani gets her first period

(a/n)- sweet sweet anon who sent the request months ago, tysm for being patient with me. im so sorry for my laziness lol

more harry and amani!

a knock rang throughout the room, startling sarah. "who is it?" she called, setting her sage green nail polish onto a nearby dresser.

she figured it could be room service, just wanting to clean, or the lunch she ordered.

"it's me— amani." sarah heard, just as she got closer to the door. sarah smiled, opening it. "hey love— is everything alright?" she asked, growing more concerned as she took in amani's worried face— as well as her paled complexion, that replaced her usual tan.

it wasn't unnatural for amani to come stay with sarah in her suite, as harry, her father, and the rest of the guys normally took up harry's room, causing ruckus.

sarah usually stayed in her own room, with her baby, accompanied by amani, who could always use some girl time.

but, what was unnatural was the way amani shyly walked into her room, scouting the room incase anyone else was present before speaking.

"it's just me and max," sarah assured, referring to the sleeping boy in the middle of the bed.

amani sighed, "i think.. i think I started my period." she winced, her breathing picking up as she revealed it. sarah gasped, her expression softening while a smile broke out onto her face.

"awhh, that's a good thing! it's natural, you're growing up! I can't believe it." she smiled, hugging the girl. "here, come follow me. i think i still have some stuff left." she said, pulling away from the hug and walking towards the unnecessarily large bathroom.

she opened the drawer, skimming through some thing before finding two boxes of pads and tampons.

"okay, so, since it's your first time I suggest using pads— just cause they're easier, but if you wanna use the tampons..?" sarah said. amani blushed, "ill just use the pads."

"alright! that's okay. do you know how to put one on? I don't know if harry explained it to you." sarah asked, causing amani to smile. "he tried, but he knows as much about periods as I do—nothing." she laughed, making sarah join in with her.

"that's fine, I can show you if you want." sarah offered. amani shook her head, feeling embarrassed, "i can figure it out." she dismissed.

sarah smiled sadly, "amani, it's normal to feel weird.. or even uncomfortable about these things, but almost every girl goes through it. you don't have to feel embarrassed, especially not with me, okay?" she explained, making amani smile sheepishly.

times like this, she wishes she did have a mother to talk about puberty, periods, and just her body changing, but she's thankful that she has someone who is basically a mother figure— sarah.

of course, harry tries his best to fill that role, especially now that amani's actually growing into a woman— however, she just feels more comfortable talking to someone who can relate to her.

"thank you," she whispered.

sarah smiled, as if to say a silent 'your welcome.'

"oh and sarah—can you get me underwear? and different pants?" amani sighed. sarah only then noticed the sweater tied around her waist, likely used to cover a stain.

"of course! your dads still in the room right?"

"yea, he'll let you in but..can you just not tell him?" amani said, her face reddening once again.

"oh, love, did you want to tell him yourself?" sarah questioned, eyebrows furrowed slightly.

amani shrugged in response. she had no plan whatsoever of telling him.

sarah sighed. "you know, you have to tell him eventually. it'll be worse if he finds out by himself, probably more embarrassing." she smiles.

amani shakes her head, "i'm scared." she admits, hiding her face in her hands.

sarah frowns, "scared? of what? he'll probably cry a little, but that's just cause his little girl is growing up."

amani laughed at that, imagining her dad in tears over her starting her period— a likely event.

"maybe he'll think it's gross— I don't know." she sighed. "im probably just overthinking it."

"you are. he won't find it gross, I promise. now, do you wanna tell him, or do you want me to?"

"you can tell him."

-

"she started her what?!" harry gasped, suddenly feeling uneasy on his feet.

sarah smacked his shoulder, putting her index finger to her lips, shushing him. "her period harry. menstruation? time of the month? flowers? quiet down if you don't want amani to be embarrassed when the whole hotel knows her business."

harry sighed, steadying himself as he took a seat.

"..why didn't she tell me first? is she alright?" harry frowned, his head gears turning faster than he could register. his daughter had started her period— but didn't go to him first. why? had he done something wrong?

sarah shook her head,"she's okay, calm down. it's just easier to talk about periods with people who've actually had them harry, it's not personal." she laughed, reassuring him, although she knew he'd still worry.

harry, who still had a deep frown on his face nodded.

he understands how awkward it would've been for her to tell him— but as a singe!parent, he feels shitty that she went to someone else, instead of her dad.

"okay.." harry sighed, wiping the tears that began to well up in his eyes. "i need to buy stuff right? what do i get?" he asked, already making a mental note of the stuff he knows gemma gets.

"pads, tampons, heating pad, ice-cream, and a little stuffed animal. 'always'and 'tampax' are really good brands. oh, and make sure you get different sizes for different levels of blood flow." sarah instructed.

harry nodded along, keeping everything she said in mind.

"I'm gonna go and get her clothes now." sarah said. "oh and harry?"

he perked up.

"she's okay. this is apart of her growing up. don't go haywire and coddle her."

-

that afternoon, after amani was all situated, she stayed with sarah and max for awhile, before heading back to her suite she shared with her dad, harry.

as soon as amani walked in, she was met with her dad, who's face lit up proudly.

harry walked over to her, but it seemed like he himself had just gotten back. he was carrying bags, unbeknownst to amani, full of period products.

"I got everything you need, love." he said, holding out the bag for her. she could see boxes full of everything and more that's she would need, as well as snacks that he didn't need to, but wanted to buy for her.

amani blushed, feeling embarrassed yet loved. she had never expected that her period would be such a big deal to harry, or that he would even know what to buy for her.

he'd always been a little, over the top some may say, but still her dad's reaction took her by surprise. he was smiling, looking at her with love and warmth in his eyes. he wasn't even upset with her that she didn't tell him first.

when he noticed how out of place she looked, he smiled softly.

"hey, it's okay, amani. you don't have to be embarrassed," he said, handing her the bag full of goodies, that he'd definitely not let her indulge in on a regular day, being the health nut dad he is. "it's normal. you're growing up and becoming a woman now. couldn't feel anymore more prouder."

amani felt her heart pounding in her chest. she had never thought he would be this understanding and supportive. but as she thought of it, why wouldn't he be? all her life, no matter what she decided to do, her dad was always there backing her up.

she realized, her fear of telling him was irrational.

"thank you dad." she whispered, taking the bag from him and hugging him tightly.

harry hugged her back, holding her close.

"you're my daughter and I'm always here for you. I'm proud of you," he said, as tears started to well up in his eyes.

amani wasn't surprised by his emotional reaction, more so, she surprised herself when she also began to cry. she couldn't help feeling happy and loved. in that moment, she realized that the bonds of parenthood are not only about love, but also about understanding and support.

she was grateful to have harry as her dad and sarah as another woman in her life who filled the missing role in her life, and she knew that they would always be there for her, no matter what.

thank you so much for reading! ☕️ 🤍

requests are always open!

-fic rec masterlist-

#harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #dad!harry #dad harry #harry styles one shot #dadrry #harry fanfiction #harry styles dad #harry x amani #single!dadharry #harry styles x pregnant!reader #harry x reader #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #soft!harry #husband!harry #harry styles fanfiction #harry edward styles #one direction #harry styles x reader #dad!harry styles #harry styles fanfic

[shuacore]

no thorns, no roses.

reader (f) x jsh. summary: a modeling gig turns into a test of your patience (and your self-control) — 11.4K words — is enemies with benefits a thing?, basically pwp, semi-public hooking-up?? — warnings: swearing, smut (18+) additional warnings

additional warnings: degradation (lite), unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), probably like a billion red flags lol

"Good news, y/n!" your boss yells over the phone, and you wince as you pull the speaker away from your ear. Mingyu was a nice guy but, Christ, he was fucking loud. You slowly put the phone to your ear again. "You booked the Dior gig!" 

Your jaw drops. "No fucking way. You're lying!" Silently you kick your feet in the air, a giddy dizzy feeling buzzing through your whole body. If Mingyu could see you on the other side of the phone he'd be laughing at you, but from the safety of your own apartment, you could act as ridiculous as you wanted. Your boss is yelling something into the phone, but you're not listening as you jump around your couch, pumping your fists in the air like the protagonist of some corny rom-com movie. 

"...really liked your stuff. Their girl backed out after getting food poisoning and they need someone else. I know it's extremely short notice, but it's tomorrow afternoon— can you make that work?" 

You nod vigorously before remembering you're on the phone and Mingyu can't actually see your face. "Yes!" you reply breathlessly. You can't feel your legs anymore, so you slump on the couch, clutching a pillow to your chest.

"Awesome! I'll get in touch with their creative coordinator right now and forward you the details ASAP. Thanks, y/n," Mingyu says with a short goodbye, and the line dies. 

For a moment, all you can do is sit in shock. Dior wanted you. And not only that, but it was for a shoot in Vogue?! You flop onto your back, still speechless. You had to be dreaming. It had been years since your last major shoot, and it had been such a disaster that you had refused to do any luxury shoots since then. Except that when Mingyu had told you that Dior had sent out a notice to all the major modeling agencies looking for new blood for their latest campaign, you knew you had to try. 

So you had spent the last few weeks filming and editing your best walks together into a video, compiled with countless headshots, past work, and endless pose references. Your favorite brand was looking for new talent, and there was no way in hell you could pass up the opportunity. 

You throw your arm over your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. The sick thing was that it had actually worked. And now you were going to Vogue's studio tomorrow to work directly with some of the most renowned designers in the world. God, it made you want to pee yourself a little bit. 

Somewhere across the room, there's a small ding! from your phone from where you had thrown it and you hastily push yourself off the couch to grab it. A small notification reads "Congrats!" and in your dazed state you clumsily click on it, opening the email from your boss.

Hey, y/n! Here's the information from Kelly, the creative coordinator at Vogue. Let me know if you have any questions. 

Congrats again!

Kim Mingyu | Talent Coordinator

AGC Modeling Agency

—--- Forwarded message ------

From: Kelly G. <[email protected]>

Sent: Monday, July 29, 2021 8:56 AM

To: Kim Mingyu <[email protected]>

Subject: VOGUE x Dior 2021 Shoot Replacement

Hey Mingyu! 

We've run into an issue with one of our girls and we need a replacement. We really liked the work of y/n and would love to work with them! Here are the details from Dior's creative director, and I've included a few images of the sample pieces they've asked us to shoot. Let me know what you think!

Thanks!

Kelly G. | Creative Coordinator

VOGUE Magazine

Your eyes skim the rest of the email, reading over the shoot info as fast as possible. Well, the clothing is more revealing than you were used to doing, and the colors were, honestly, underwhelming, but your excitement outweighed your trepidation. 

If it was just another solo shoot, and it sounded like it was, you were ready to give them your best material. The creative director wouldn’t even know what hit them.

As you climb into bed that night, you can't fight the smile that threatens to take over your whole face, and you slowly drift off to sleep, dreaming of camera flashes and a world painted with unimaginable color. 

----

The next morning, however, as you stand outside the Vogue studio door and your stomach threatens to push itself out of your mouth, you wonder if you've truly chosen the right career path. 

"Mingyu, I don't know if I can do this," you say, turning to look at your manager. His dark hair is effortlessly tousled, and in the bright morning light, he looks as if he's glowing. You often wonder why Mingyu had never become a model himself, but whenever you asked, he just brushed off the question in the infuriatingly cool way that he did everything. As you watch a few strands of his perfect hair wave in the cool New York morning breeze, dimly, you also wonder why you’ve never asked him out. 

"Your stuff was great, y/n," he says, with a goofy little pat on your shoulder. "If anyone can 'serve face' it's you!" 

You wrinkle your nose in disgust. It was horrendous how he tried to keep up with the youth, but there was no hope with Mingyu. So you simply nod and let him lead you through the door, trying your best not to vomit all over yourself. 

The door shuts behind you with a horrible clunk, and as you follow your manager through the catacombs of Vogue's creative spaces, you try your very best to feel excited. 

No! You tell yourself. You are excited! Except you're also impossibly worried about making a fool of yourself in front of the top fashion magazine in the world, and possibly affecting the rest of your career forever. 

"Ok," you say nervously, "Snap out of it!" Miles of beige drywall seem to pass by you. Why the hell is this hallway so long? You swear you’ve been walking for eons now, and the longer the hallway stretches on, the smaller you shrink. 

By the time you reach the end of the hallway, you can't be more than a few centimeters tall. Mingyu chooses an unassuming beige door and allows you to enter the room before him. Some of the photographers are already in the room, and they wave politely as you enter. The backdrops are set up and ready, with a few more options draped across support beams and tables. There's a chair centered under a few lights and you see your clothing rack, already adorned with a few of the flimsy, delicate pieces you'd be wearing. Being in the space has an immediate effect, and you can't help but feel a jolt of excitement in your stomach.  

After setting your bag on a chair in the back, you catch sight of a bed tucked behind one of the backdrops. Had you read anything about a bed being used on set? You couldn't quite remember, and you were about to ask Mingyu about it, but he had already disappeared into the growing throng of designers, off doing his managerial thing. You take a quick look around. No one seems to be watching you, and besides, it’s your set so why not get used to it? 

You approach the bed, curiosity and confusion battling in your brain. It didn’t seem to really fit with the strange and spunky summer theme, but maybe it was for some kind of boudoir moment the art directors had in mind? There had definitely been some gauzy things mixed in with Dior’s array of pieces. 

Honestly, the longer you look at it, the more delightful the bed looks. The pillows are squishy and adorned in soft, shiny silk, and there are a few blankets strewn artfully across the comforters. Man, you really wanted to jump onto it like a little kid, but you also wanted to appear professional— so that meant no jumping. For now at least. 

You turn to walk back to your seat, barely looking where you’re going when you crash headfirst into someone else. Papers go flying, coffee splatters everywhere, and in the sudden flurry of motion, there’s a cacophony of swearing. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I totally wasn’t looking where I was going. I can pay for your dry cleaning, or run and grab you a new shirt. God, I am so, so sorry,” you babble, suddenly sweating profusely. In a panic, you kneel down to gather the papers as fast as possible, shoving them into a haphazard pile and offering them to the other person with as apologetic of a face as you could possibly make. 

And then you make eye contact with them.

Fuck. Your heart drops into your stomach.

The man you just ran into wrinkles his nose. “Oh. It’s you.” His dark eyes are flat with disdain. 

You fight the urge to throw a punch (and also throw up). It’s been years since you last saw him, and yet, you seem to be having some sort of Pavlovian response to his voice. 

“Joshua Hong,” you say through gritted teeth. The other creatives are watching the two of you with poorly disguised interest, so you attempt to actively suppress the rage gurgling uncomfortably in your stomach by forcing a smile onto your lips. It doesn't work, but they don't need to know that.

Joshua takes the forgotten papers from your hands, offering you a dry smile before stalking away without another word. 

Wow. He really has not changed at all. Still just as insufferable and impossible as the last time you worked with him. 

Vague memories of getting drunk and hooking up with Joshua swim to the front of your mind. You hadn’t known you were going to be working with him the next day. He had just been some hot guy at a bar who you had chatted with briefly. All you can really recall is singing (extremely drunk) karaoke with him, making out with him in his car after a particularly raunchy song, and waking up in his bed the next morning. You wonder if he remembers how he held you like you were glass, whispered empty promises in your ear, and made you feel like a princess. He had made you feel like you were unforgettable. And then he hadn’t even acknowledged your damn presence at the shoot later the same day.

After all these years, even after all the effort it had taken you to forget the heartbreak you had felt, one glimpse of him was all it took to send you back to the very beginning of it all. With a particularly large jolt in your chest, you’re horrified that your body still craves him so badly.

“Y/N?” Mingyu’s voice calls out to you, breaking you out of your reverie. “Are you okay?” 

You realize your nails had been biting into your palms and you release your fists, trying to relax the tension in your shoulders and your jaw. You plant the most reassuring smile you can on your face and nod. 

"Perfect, actually," you say, doing your best to ignore your roiling stomach. The smile on your face feels more like a grimace the longer you hold it. 

"Do you... do you need to go to the bathroom?" your manager asks, quirking an eyebrow and throwing a thumb over his shoulder. He looks a little afraid of you and you can only imagine how insane you look to Mingyu. You brush him off. 

"No, I'll be fine." Yes, go now! Get out of here! Run! You smile again before shuffling quickly back to your bag amid the whispers that continue to follow you across the studio. 

You hadn't seen Joshua Hong in years, and somehow you still couldn't look at him without feeling an explosion of confusing emotions. He had completely humiliated you, belittling you until you had run out of the room and cried in the bathroom for twenty minutes. He made you look like a fool. He had made you feel like shit. Mingyu knew your history with him, but Vogue must have not told him that Joshua was working on this shoot, because you know your sweet, but dense, manager surely would not have booked you for this if they had. 

Professionalism be damned. You wanted to throw (another) cup of hot coffee in Joshua Hong's perfectly chiseled face. 

You look up from your shaking hands for a moment to see that the bastard has already disappeared. You're not sure if that fills you with dread or relief. Ok, you can't ignore this.

"Mingyu!" you whisper loudly, pulling your manager aside. "You didn't tell me Joshua Hong was going to be here!"

Mingyu looks defensive. "They never told me he would be here!" He wrings his hands for a moment. "Y/n, I swear, I never knew he was working this shoot or I would've never booked this gig for you." 

You take a deep breath, forcing your erratic heartbeat to slow until you think you're capable of speaking rationally. "I'm sorry, but I can’t do this." 

Mingyu looks even more apologetic, and he runs a hand through his dark hair in frustration. "I'm sorry, but at this point, you have to. We don't have any backups nearly as good as you, and backing out would be a huge hit to your career."

You were expecting the bad news, but hearing it directly from Mingyu felt like a huge blow. Suddenly your stomach feels like it's going to eject from your body.

"I lied," you say, clapping a hand to your belly, "Where's the bathroom?" 

"Turn to the left and it'll be at the end of the hall," Mingyu replies, concern in his eyes. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yep! Perfect!" you mumble hastily before walking as quickly out of the room as you could without running. The nervous energy in your body was building until you felt you could climb walls. Clinging to the ceiling surely would be less strenuous than the rest of today.

In your state of mild hysteria, you shove the door to the bathroom open without knocking, only to see Joshua standing over the sink, holding his soiled shirt in his hands. He whips his head around in surprise. And you only just barely see the muscles of his shoulders rippling under his honeyed skin before your eyes are the size of dinner plates. 

You might now hold the record for reddest face in two seconds. 

"I'm so sorry!" you squeak, yanking the door shut. Your heart is racing a million miles a second. You had just seen Joshua Hong shirtless. (Sober.) And even though you had before, something about this felt worse. Fuck. Fuck! Your luck was unbelievable, and there's absolutely no way you could get through this shoot amiably with this man. Not after you ruined his shirt and certainly not after you invaded his privacy in the span of fifteen minutes.

You lean your back on the wall for a moment, holding your head in your hands, heart pounding so heavily you think you might faint. The darkness of the back of your eyelids is somewhat soothing and you stay like that for a while, wallowing in your despair. But then you hear what sounds like the doorknob turning, and walk back towards the studio as quickly as you possibly can.

"Two minutes!" you hear someone call, and the feeling in your stomach only gets worse. Somehow you were going to have to wear skimpy lingerie next to the man that had made you feel ridiculous and sell the illusion of sex! Luxury! Your stomach gives a particularly robust gurgle. 

"Y/N!" one of the stylists calls as you enter the room again. "Let's do wardrobe!" She takes you over to the racks, pulling out a few pieces rapidly, scanning them and your body before settling on a silky black slip dress, which is far more sheer than you had hoped. In any other situation you would have fallen head over heels, but knowing the man closest to being your arch-enemy was going to see you in it suddenly made it extremely unappetizing. The stylist hands you the hanger, showing you to a row of make-shift dressing rooms.

Behind the curtain you slip into the dress, and the silk is smooth and cool against your burning skin. It really is quite pretty, and here by yourself you enjoy the way it clings to your body in all the right places. Unprompted, your brain floods with the image of Joshua's back— broad and tan and toned with muscle. 

Imagine him seeing you in this dress...imagine his hands on your body—

"Ok! That's enough!" you interject, crushing the thoughts before they can fully form and liquefy your brain. You take a breath, staring at yourself in the tiny mirror taped to a support beam.

"You got this. It's just another job. Do it for the check." You flash yourself a quick thumbs up.

After opening the curtain, you're whisked away to makeup and hair, where you're accosted by a few more stylists who fuss over your appearance even more. They end up deciding on a bold smoky eye and some simple lip gloss and fluff your hair until it looks effortlessly tousled. 

But all too soon you're done with prep, and the only thing left is to start the shoot. Awkwardly you stand off to the side of the studio, waiting for the director to give you instructions. You still haven't seen Joshua, which just sets you on edge even more. 

"Y/N!" the director says, appearing by your side. "We're going to start with your solo shots, just for some variety." You smile, allowing your shoulders to relax. Solo shots you could do. A stylist leads you over to the chair and instructs you to sit.

And it goes flawlessly. It's like once you're in front of a camera your body takes over and you know exactly what to do with your arms, what facial expressions to make. The space becomes your own. The director takes your photos, pausing every few minutes or so to instruct you on a new pose or to fix your hair, but the first half of your shoot goes by without a hitch. You feel alive, happy even, as you work, as Joshua fades to the background. When it's just you, you can focus.

"Fantastic work, Y/N!" the director says, as she flicks through a few shots on her camera. You do look great. "The editors have a bunch of really great material to work with." Ok, so maybe this wouldn't be completely terrible. As long as you focused on yourself and on giving your best material, everything would be fine. 

As if on cue... he appears and all your resolve crumbles.

Except— he's still not wearing a shirt. Well, he's kind of wearing a shirt, except that it's completely unbuttoned and exposing his entire chest. He's also wearing a pair of simple black dress pants, but to be honest, you're a little distracted by his perfect abs to really notice. Ok, you didn't know this was part of the plan. You feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and wrench your gaze away, trying to discreetly fan your face as Joshua walks over. Desperately, you hope that he won't mention your little mishap.

Oh my god, he was still hot. Did this change anything? No... you still hated him. Except now you just felt even more conflicted internally. Your body was telling you one thing, but your head was telling you another and you hoped your awful shoot partner being hot didn't suddenly alter your entire perception of him, but you couldn't even—

"Y/N?" Joshua's voice cuts across your inner monologue like a knife, dry and without humor. "The director is speaking." You shoot a panicked glance at him, withering slightly when you see the same unfaltering gaze looking back. He looks so unamused, it's incredible. You wrench your head back towards the director, hoping you look apologetic enough.

She gives you a nonchalant smile and continues on without issue. "You know Dior. Everyone knows Dior. I want you to look sexy, suave, effortless. I know you're both seasoned professionals so I'm not worried, but try and make it as electric as possible." 

Sexy. Suave. Electric. Yeah, no worries. You shove your heart back down your throat, trying your damn best not to let your trepidation show. Electricity between you and Joshua. Well, there'd certainly be something.

You try to catch Joshua's eye, to gauge his temperament, but he seems content with ignoring your presence like always. As he sits in the chair, one of the panels of his shirt falls open, flashing the slight curve of his waist again. Despite gritting your teeth in annoyance, your heart does a very confusing loop-de-loop in your chest that makes you feel mildly ill. 

After Joshua has settled in the chair, the director motions for a camera. "Ok, for this first shot, Y/N, I want you to place your left foot on his knee so you're facing him. Joshua, let's have you put your hand on Y/N's calf— yeah, exactly like that."

You've forced yourself to look away from Joshua, acutely aware of how short your dress is and how much it's riding up your thigh. Seriously, this is your first shoot and you're already sweating. Joshua places his hand on your leg like it's nothing, but it's taking everything in you not to cringe away. He smells good, too. Fuck! You're trying to remember that you hate him and yet his presence has shaken you to the bone. 

"Lean in a little more, Y/N," the photographer says, "You're a little stiff." You nod, and shift so you're even closer to Joshua that you'd like, your chest uncomfortably close to his face. 

Jesus. And this was only the first set. You breathe deeply through your nose, trying to ignore your pulse racing heavily through your body. Joshua seems unfazed as always, perfect and unruffled. 

Right, because you're supposed to be professionals. Heat flushes up your neck in shame. He hadn't said much and yet you were the one acting childish. You try to distance yourself from the man next to you, telling yourself he's just another model doing his job. And for a while it works. You take a few different shots from different positions— you in front of him, then behind the chair, then next to him, somehow managing to incorporate your leg every time. The director has Joshua inching his hand farther and farther up your thigh until his fingers are practically playing with the hem of your dress, and you are desperately trying to keep your cool. Joshua has a tendency to dig his fingers into your skin every time he moves his hand, and it is doing confusing things to your brain. Then—

"You want him to what?" you say incredulously, eyes wide. You know you shouldn't be reacting like this if you want to keep your job, but Joshua is throwing you off your game.

The director smiles. "I'm going to have you sitting in the chair this time, and I want Joshua on the floor." 

You slowly sit in the chair, back stiff as Joshua crouches on the floor next to you. 

He briefly looks at you and mutters, "Is it okay if I touch you?" but it's more of a formality than a courtesy. You stare at him, mouth agape and swallow thickly. 

"Uh— yeah. No, yeah, that's fine."

He places his hand on your thigh again, fingers gripping the soft flesh ever so slightly, and you desperately hope he doesn't notice the slight shiver that runs through your body. If he does, at least he's civil enough not to mention it. 

The photographer is frowning. Oh no. "The energy is still dead. Joshua can you sit in between Y/N's legs?" 

You freeze. Even Joshua seems slightly put out. But the look in his eyes fades as quickly as it appeared and he dips his head in acknowledgement. Then he turns to you. 

God, you've never wanted to fade out of existence more than you did right now. Having his head right next to your— you-know-where?! Your legs seem to be glued together with the effort it takes to pry them apart. Joshua awkwardly climbs in between your knees, trying to pose as nonchalantly as possible. It's as if your spine is glued to the backrest of the chair; you're completely immobilized. You don't want Joshua there. In fact, you don't want him anywhere near you. 

The director frowns. "Lean back! Relax! Loop your arm under her leg, too. You could even lean your face against her thigh if you feel so inclined." 

Your eyes have to be so wide right now. Joshua, even though he's clearly uncomfortable, wraps his hand around your thigh again, and leans his head towards your skin. His mouth ever-so-slightly brushes against the inside of your thigh, his breath warm against your burning skin. Goosebumps erupt across your body, and you feel the ghost of a smile on the corner of his lips.

You, however, cannot relax. You can't make this look natural no matter how hard you try, and Joshua being so close to your womanhood is certainly not helping. The camera clicks echo through the room as the photographers take a few shots of the two of you.

But after a few minutes, the director still looks unhappy, and you have a sinking feeling it's your fault. 

"No... this still isn't right. I like the vision, but this still feels a little forced. Let's try something else."

Isn't it all forced? you think, disgruntled. Joshua shifts his grip on your thigh ever slightly.

The director turns the chair to the side, telling Joshua to sit on it again. She squints for a moment, walking around him a few times and muttering quietly to herself. After a few more minutes, she steps back. Then she looks at you. 

"Sit in his lap."

Excuse me?

You don't move. Every bone in your body seems to be made of lead, every muscle completely froze. Joshua stares at you, an unreadable expression in his eyes. You swear he discreetly raises an eyebrow, as if in challenge, but you blink and it's gone. Even your throat feels like it's closing up. But who are you to challenge the director? 

Awkwardly, you throw one leg over Joshua's lap, settling yourself as casually as you possibly can. Your heartbeat is screaming in your ears, and you're terrified he'll feel it against his chest. The silky fabric of your dress is offering absolutely no comfort as it shifts over your skin. Joshua's shirt is gaping, your own skin dangerously close to his.

Joshua places his large hands on your back, and the heat from his palms seeps through the delicate silk as if there was no dress at all. You can't even look him in the eyes. You know you're supposed to be acting like you're in lust, but right now you're simply immobile. His cologne wafts tantalizingly off of his skin, and you bite your lip, trying your best to ignore the way his breath washes over your collarbones, the way the heat in your core seems to be intensifying every second you spend flush against him.

"That's a little better," the director says, before whispering something to her colleague. They start to take pictures as they flit around you. 

Unconsciously, you've been squirming around on Joshua's lap to get comfortable, and you start when you feel his fingers press into your skin, his breath hot against your throat. 

"Stop doing that," he hisses under his breath, and then you realize... the thing underneath you that you thought was maybe his phone... is definitely something else. Heat rushes to your face and you freeze as best as you can. His chest is heaving just imperceptibly. There's definitely arousal slowly pooling in your barely-there underwear, and you are quite literally praying to God that Joshua won't say anything. 

"Sorry," you squeak, turning your head so you don't have to look at him. He's probably embarrassed, so you'll do your best to be as professional as possible. It happens to everyone. 

Except Joshua seems less mortified than you. He slides his hands down your spine until they're just barely resting on your ass. You swear he squeezes. 

"Are you though?" he murmurs, pulling you centimeters forward on his lap, so for a hint of a second there is a moment of delicious friction and a rush of pleasure, and your eyes widen. But then you clear your throat, looking to the director for more instruction. There's an unreachable itch building under your skin, making you feel antsy.

She still looks unsatisfied, shaking her head. 

"Ok, I don't know what the issue is here, so let's take a break." She frowns at the two of you as you hurriedly clamber off of Joshua's lap, pulling your dress down as far as it can possibly go. He looks unbothered, cooly crossing his legs and sitting back. The flush in your cheeks won't go away and you fan your face, knowing you look ridiculous in the frigid studio. 

"I need you two to figure out what the deal is," the director says, fixing the two of you under a firm stare. "You're two of the best I've worked with, but you're not giving me what you promised. I don't know what happened between you two or if anything did at all, but don't bring this tension into the studio. Use lunch to figure it out." She looks disappointed and you feel your heart sink. They were never going to hire you again! 

The director points at Joshua. "We'll take your solo shots after lunch." She turns away to make the same announcement to the crew, and they start to file out of the room, hardly sparing the two of you a second glance. 

You're frozen in place, not trusting yourself to walk to your chair in the corner. The last of the crew leave the room, and the door closes with an air of finality. 

The silence is suffocating, and you are, to put it in so many words, insanely turned on now. You turn to Joshua, looking everywhere but him. You wonder if he's equally as on edge. 

You open your mouth to speak when his voice cuts through the tension.

"Ok, why don't we just deal with this like adults?" 

You raise your eyebrows in disbelief.

"Well, I wasn't going to scream and cry, if that's what you thought," you retort, frowning. There he is again with his irritating know-it-all behavior. 

The hint of a smirk flits across his face as he toys with one of the thick silver rings on his fingers. "Maybe not." Joshua looks amused by something, but if there is something humorous he gives no hint as to what it is. Frustration flares in your stomach. 

Your frown only deepens. "Spit it out, then." Your patience is wearing thin. 

Joshua suddenly fixes his dark eyes on you and you're taken aback by the shift in the room. "Do you want me to say it? Do you want me to get on my knees and beg?" 

"I—I have no idea what you're talking about," you say helplessly, pulling on the hem of your dress. There is not enough fucking fabric in the world that would make you feel covered under his stare.

Joshua looks unconvinced. "Are you sure? There's nothing you... need help with?" He's taunting you.

Heat rushes to your face. "If I needed help with something, it certainly would not be from you." You wrench your eyes from his face, suddenly feeling rather small. You're thankful he's far enough away right now— if he came any closer, you certainly would not be able to hold up as well. 

Joshua raises an eyebrow. God, you are so tired of this man and his mind games. A sudden burst of irritation replaces the timidity in your voice.

“What is your fucking deal?” you spit, hands balling into fists in frustration. Joshua's little comments have you riled up far more than you care to admit. How could he say that to you? In the middle of working? 

To your surprise, Joshua doesn’t snap back like you thought he would. Instead, a cocky smile slides across his lips, and he pins you under his gaze, dark eyes shining with vicious gloating. 

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” he says, sitting casually on the chair. His easy demeanor has you on edge.

"I—" You falter, put out. “Notice what?”

Joshua pauses for a moment to examine his nails. “The heat quite literally radiating from you.” His eyes slide back to you, lingering on the strap of your dress fallen off your shoulder (and suddenly said heat in your core increases tenfold). Fuck. 

This is actually the worst possible thing that could be happening to you right now. Like, literally ever. You seem to be trying to make up for all the confessional you missed over the last couple decades because you shoot a couple more prayers God’s way, hoping for a miracle. 

“I don’t— I don’t know what you’re talking about," you say again. You know exactly what he's talking about. All moisture in your mouth vanishes.

Joshua stands, slowly walking towards you. Instinctively, you back away, eyes glued to his face as he approaches. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t completely turned on right now, and you know Joshua can tell. As your back hits the wall, you let out a small gasp. 

Joshua is impossibly close— somehow even closer than when you were posing, and you know you’re supposed to hate him, and you know there’s supposed to be some kind of thought process repelling him from you, but the same deep, woody scent of his cologne is clogging your senses and you're finding it extremely difficult to remember exactly what it was that you loathed about his stupidly handsome face. 

“What are you doing?” you choke out.  

“Don’t play stupid,” Joshua murmurs, eyes roaming unabashedly over your body. The silk dress is pointless as if he could simply see right through the flimsy fabric. "They put you in this. How was I supposed to concentrate?" 

“You’re the one being stupid right now,” you shoot back, hoping and praying that you can control the tremor in your voice. Joshua is close enough that you can count the faint blemishes across his skin and see his eyes sizing you up. “Do ever think with anything other than your dick?” 

Joshua cocks a perfectly manicured eyebrow. He looks bored. “Sometimes yes.” Suddenly he’s all up on you, boxing you in against the wall in between his arms. Hot breath fans across your face, but you’re frozen. You can’t look away as your heart hammers in your chest. Shit, you can’t stop looking at his chest.

He flashes that same infuriating shit-eating grin. “Other times... no.” 

Joshua's sudden change in demeanor is making your head swim, but there's no point in pretending you don't want him anymore.

There's no going back now.

“Fuck, Joshua,” you breathe before crashing your mouth to his, pulling him into a heated embrace. As soon as he looked at you with those ridiculous eyes of his, any and all of your restraint flew out the window. 

His hands are on your body, hot and heavy, as they roam your skin, giving away his poorly concealed restraint. By the way he holds you so fiercely, he had clearly been waiting to ravish you. Fingers catch on the hem of your dress but you can't even get yourself to stop him. The thin silky fabric is doing nothing to keep the heat from his body out. It's like you're already naked. 

Joshua, ever the show-off, catches your bottom lip in his teeth, coaxing a soft moan from your mouth. He looks smug as he pulls away, delighted at finding one of your weaknesses. You don't have half the mind to play games with him. Your mind is in shambles, and your body might be, too, as he plants his mouth on your neck, nipping at the delicate skin with poorly disguised enjoyment. He clearly likes seeing you squirm. His fingers tangle in your hair. Your knees are weak. Air is already so sparse. 

Joshua's fingers dig into your hips. "You're moving too much," he says lowly, the sound vibrating against your jaw. God, when was the last time someone kissed you like this? Your last hook-up had been (quite literally) so dry and so unimaginative that you had sworn off casual sex for a while.

But kissing Joshua... the way he moaned softly into your mouth, tightened his grip on your body, pulled you towards him. Even though you knew how he was romantically, he kissed you like he needed you.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You fought to keep your eyes open, to see the dark hair brushing against your cheekbones, to map the spots dusting his skin hidden ever so slightly under his makeup, to see how the flush on his skin burned and deepened with every single second you two stayed locked together. But it's taking every ounce of self-control in you not to crumple to the ground that you let your eyes fall closed. You know when to pick and choose your battles. 

Except that then he pushes a knee between your legs and there's already so little fabric between you and this man that you freeze. Your eyes fly back open. Joshua boldly presses his thigh up against your body, right against the ache building in your core. You bite down on your lip to stifle the pitiful little sounds trying to escape from your mouth, refusing to give in to Joshua that easily. He shifts his knee, the fabric of your panties catching on his pantleg. You swallow a quiet moan.

You are suddenly very aware of how... hot you actually are. Joshua breaks away from the kiss, a lewd string of spit connecting your mouths together. Your arousal has spread to your chest, and you think you might faint.

"Oh dear," Joshua murmurs, as one hand trails down your waist and over your thigh. His eyes seem to dismantle the last of your composure the longer they rake across your bare skin. You let out a shaky breath as he wraps a hand around your thigh, drawing it up near his hip with startling swiftness. Your heart is thumping so wildly that you're amazed you can even hear him over it at all.

"You doing okay?" He smiles wickedly. 

It’s all you can do to gape stupidly at him, the words dying in your throat before they're even fully formed. It's infuriating how Joshua is able to so easily render you speechless. Every word that falls from his cruel mouth is just another reason not to sleep with him, but the taunts just sound so damn pretty that there's little stopping you from fucking him right here, right now.

Except that you're at work. On a lunch break. Hooking up with your enemy. His nails bite into your skin.

Joshua smirks with some sort of sick amusement. "You were so talkative... what happened?" He asks, leaning in until his lips are mere centimeters from yours. You want to kick yourself for how badly you want him. How badly your body needs him. 

You open your mouth to retort when he catches your lips in another searing kiss, this time with more tongue than teeth. You spineless sucker! The last of your dignity is just barely hanging on by a thread. Joshua kisses you fiercely, even groaning slightly as he kneads your thigh with his fingers. You’re about to completely lose your head.

"Joshua," you moan quietly, hands clumsily tugging his shirt off his shoulders. (Thankfully half the work had already been done for you.) He hardly breaks the kiss before tossing the shirt somewhere in the room with impatience. "They're gonna come back s-soon." Oh, but you can't even get yourself to care. 

Not with the way his hands grip your ass, not with the way his mouth keeps leaving dirty little surprises across your skin. God, you're going to hell.

“Let them find us,” he pants before lifting you into the air, arms holding you up by your thighs. You barely even register where he’s taking you until you roughly hit the mattress with a loud huff! of air. The pillows are just as soft as you had imagined.

Joshua stands over you, shamelessly drinking in your body. You feel a little silly, like a doll splayed across the bed. 

Joshua licks his lips. “You are simply wearing too many layers, my dear.” You’re pleased to hear a rasp in his voice that hadn’t been there before. 

“And what are you going to do about it?” you ask him, tipping your chin back in challenge. The heat is positively radiating through your body, pulsing so strongly you’re amazed he hasn’t made another comment. The tension is so palpable that it’s become a game of who’s going to snap first. 

And lucky for you, Joshua takes the bait without a second thought. 

He mashes his mouth back to yours, roughly pushing the straps of your silly little dress off your shoulders and down your hips, fully exposing your décolletage. Joshua plants his mouth on your throat, sucking less-than-delicate hickies along the line of your collarbones; barely waiting for the contusions to bloom before he’s nipping at them again. The carelessness of his teeth, the crude sensuality of his touches— it’s enough to strip you down into a writhing mess beneath him. 

Barely a second passes after Joshua decides he’s done marking your neck that he suddenly licks a messy line up your chest, attaching his mouth to one of your nipples and slurping with obscene moans. Oh my God, was he trying to kill you?! Your mouth falls open in surprise, fingers gripping the sheets as you writhe underneath him. 

“Joshua—“ you start to say but he just laughs, cutting you off. It's not a sound of comfort, but derision.

“We’ve barely done anything, and already my name seems to be stuck on your tongue,” he remarks, sitting back to admire his handiwork. This man truly is shameless with the way he looks at your body with pride. Covering up the clusterfuck of bites across your chest is going to be no easy feat. 

Your tongue seems to be stuck in your mouth. Truly you can’t even form words. And what’s even worse is that he’s right, because the most you’ve done is make out for a while. Oh God, he’s going to absolutely ruin you. 

His tongue trails down your stomach, leaving a few kisses here and there, stopping right above the waistband of your underwear. Joshua smirks, as his fingers brush over your panties. They're completely soaked and the embarrassment has you hiding your face in your hands.

"All for me?" he asks, before pressing a few kisses along the inside of your thigh. His hair tickles your skin as his fingers playfully pull aside your panties.

"Don't flatter yourself," you say, breathlessly. Joshua simply hums in response, his fingers dangerously close to your crotch. 

He draws himself up, leaning over you. A few dark strands of hair fall in his eyes. 

"Can I?" he whispers, just above your mouth. You simply nod, afraid of the things that will come out of your mouth if you speak. 

And then he's pressing two long fingers into you, watching with rapt attention as you toss your head back in pleasure, stuffing your hand in your mouth to stifle the sounds threatening to spill out. His fingers curl in that wicked "come here" motion that has you winded, clutching the sheets, squeezing your eyes shut. The longer you clench down on your jaw, the more difficult Joshua seems to be making it, scissoring and twisting his fingers until you think you might just scream. You're in a fucking studio for God's sake, but Joshua seems hellbent on breaking you as he pushes his fingers even deeper, to the knuckle, inside you. The icy cold metal of his rings presses against your skin, boiling hot.

Joshua smirks as he toys with you, even leaning over to recapture one of your nipples in his teeth. 

"Joshua—mmph," you moan, and Joshua actually places a hand over your mouth, smiling condescendingly. 

"If you're too loud I won't keep going," he says, as you roll your eyes. Didn't he know you were doing your best? It's not your fault his fingers are stuffed in your pussy and he expects you to stay silent. Plus there's something kind of thrilling about hooking up in such a public space. But when you don't respond, he stills his hand, leaving you clenching around his fingers desperately. 

So you nod, eyes fluttering shut as he begins pumping his fingers in and out of you again, each time a little bit faster. Joshua's hand explores all parts of you while his mouth explores your neck, never leaving you a moment to breathe. There's something about the way he moves his fingers that has you curving your back into him, fingers weaving into the hair on the nape of his neck as if to pull him into a desperate embrace. But Joshua turns his head before you can kiss him, instead paralyzing you under a disapproving glare. 

"I told you to stop moving, didn't I?" he says with mock sympathy, pressing a large hand against your pelvis to pin you to the bed. The pressure on your stomach only further increases your arousal, and you hold back a groan as Joshua attaches his mouth to the pulse point in your neck. 

It only takes a few more measly minutes before you're falling apart, fingers digging into Joshua's arms as he brings you over the edge. Warmth pulses through your body and you flop back onto the bed, completely speechless. 

Joshua looks satisfied at your dazed expression as he slowly drags his fingers out of you. You watch as he places them on his tongue, messily licking your arousal from his hand, never once taking his eyes off of you. Fuck.

"Turn around and get on your knees," Joshua then orders, sitting back to watch you scramble to kneel, feeling a little stupid. You're not sure what he's going to do when you feel his large hand on the back of your head, shoving you facedown onto the mattress. You let out a choked whine as Joshua lands a firm smack against your ass, and then another, and then another. Each one leaves your skin red and stinging and a little tender, and by the time he's done your eyes are watering. You refuse to look at Joshua—you don't want him to see you crying. 

But still, he says nothing, and for a stupid moment, you wonder if he’s done with you. You're a little disappointed until you hear the sound of a belt buckle clinking and clothing being tossed. You turn to look, but Joshua forces your head against the mattress again, yanking a little on your hair as he pulls away. 

"Do you still wanna to do this?" is all Joshua asks. 

Well, you're currently laying ass-up in the middle of a prop bed, waiting for him to shove his fat cock into you until you scream like a worthless slut.

Truly, there was no recovery from this. 

So you breathe out a strangled "Yes," before Joshua is pushing his cock into you without hesitation, and the work of his fingers certainly helped a little bit, but you weren't expecting him to be so...well-endowed. 

You shove your face into the pillow, smothering the loud moan that falls from your lips as Joshua slowly, slowly thrusts into you. His hold on your waist is bruising, and with your face hidden from view, you miss the way his head tips back in ecstasy.

Not that Joshua would ever let you know the effect you had on him— the sight of your needy body giving in to his every move, the cloying scent of your perfume just as intoxicating as your dripping cunt. You drive him absolutely wild.

Joshua’s voice is strained. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunts, bending forward to grab one of your shoulders as he thrusts his cock in a few more inches. Joshua has a way of melting you with every touch, like he knows your body better than you ever could. You let out another weak sob, your face buried into the silk of the sheets. He can not see how irrevocably aroused you are by him and his words and his vicious tongue.

“There’s no shame in crying,” Joshua chides the longer you hide your face, but you feel the smugness in every word suffocating you until you could cry from your pent-up sexual frustration.

"I'm not crying," you spit back, screwing up your face as he pushes even deeper into you. “I don’t— I don’t cry.” 

You imagine he’s smiling with that same fake sympathy as he watches your body shake, and the image of Joshua taking you from behind is enough for you let out another particularly strangled cry. But before the mortification even has time to settle in your chest, Joshua sinks the rest of his cock into you, bottoming out in one smooth motion. He lets out a string of expletives under his breath, fingers digging into your hips like he’s holding onto his last thread of reality. Secretly you’re pleased you have such an effect on him. 

“Jesus, would you relax?” Joshua mutters with exasperation, as your cunt clenches around him tightly. You try to tell him it’s not really your fault, but before you can answer, he deals a particularly harsh spank to your ass that knocks the air out of your lungs. 

Thankfully he gives you a brief moment, even if it’s just a breadth of a second to adjust before he’s drawing his hips back and thrusting forward with brutal efficiency. You smother your face into the covers, muffling your sounds of deep satisfaction with the comforter.

Clearly, Joshua has done this before, because he fishes for one of the pillows, lifting your hips to shove it under your pelvis before snapping his hips back again, slowly building speed until he’s just shy of pounding you into oblivion. Every so often Joshua’s cock brushes against that spot, leaving your cunt clenching involuntarily, and you have to bite down to keep your pitiful whines from escaping. Just to tease you even more, he leans forward to leave harsh bites across your shoulders, all the while murmuring how good you look from behind. The sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with the sound of Joshua’s shallow breath is erotic, and it makes your head positively swim.

“Fuck!” you whimper as Joshua continues to rail you without mercy, the brutal steady pace of each stroke bringing you closer and closer to your release. The pleasure is reaching white-hot status, pulsing in your stomach and slowly spilling into the rest of your body. It takes everything in you not to cry out in frustration as Joshua suddenly slows, just shy of stopping completely. He wraps an arm around your waist, hand flush against your stomach as he leans his weight against your back.

“Now, you know that’s not my name,” Joshua simpers, breath hot against your ear. He shallowly rocks his hips, coaxing a few more weak babbles from your lips. “Try again.” He brushes a loose strand of hair out of your eyes, and the motion would be tender if he wasn’t oozing sordid satisfaction at seeing you all hot and bothered by him.

“J-Joshua,” you beg, clawing at the sheets. And then humiliation blooms in your chest at how quickly you act to please him, but there’s something so sadistically fulfilling about being abused by this man that you can’t even get yourself to care. You’re fucking your enemy in broad daylight in a studio of Vogue. Really, there's little left for you at this point.  

"That's right," he whispers.

You let out a particularly drawn-out groan of pleasure as he snaps his hips quickly, bringing the pace back to the same mind-blowing rhythm as before, arching your spine until you feel like you might snap. Joshua’s fingers in your hair tug your head back as he whispers vile sweet nothings into your ear. The messy symphony of sounds echoing throughout the room is just shy of pornographic. You clutch the sheets tightly in your fingers as your head tips forward in pleasure. Every muscle in your body is taut as your orgasm builds every second. 

As your eyes flutter shut in anticipation, you start to say, “I’m gonna—!”

Except, of course, Joshua won't let you off that easy. 

Just as you think you're about to reach your climax, he stills his hips for an agonizing second, rocking them slowly, slowly, slowly into you. Your release fades just as quickly as it appeared, and now your whole body is uncomfortably sensitive. This time you do groan in frustration, stuffing your face in one of the pillows again.

"Fuck you," you curse, but it's weak and hardly venomous. Your head is cloudy and full of fluff and in your pitiful state, it's the best you can manage. Joshua merely seems amused by your distress, fingers petting your head again as if to comfort you. You take a moment, breathing through the burn of arousal through your entire body.

Then Joshua snakes an arm around your throat, yanking you against his chest in one smooth motion. Your moans come out as choked whines, fingers digging into the firm flesh of his forearm in deep ecstasy. You feel Joshua smile against your ear, before his free hand creeps down to finally touch your aching clit, his fingers just barely grazing your skin. This bastard.

"Aren't you?" he mutters in your ear, landing a firm smack on your cunt and you gasp, jerking forward as much as you can while being restrained. The ache in your body is unbearable; you don't know how much more you can take.

Joshua presses a few digits against your lips, coaxing your mouth open, and unceremoniously forces his fingers in without a second thought. He presses down roughly on your tongue, massaging a few circles with the pads of his fingers. You whimper again, but the words won’t come out. 

“Use your words,” he murmurs, and you can practically feel the arrogance dripping from his voice. “I can’t do anything unless you tell me.” 

Evil, evil, evil man. You can’t even form syllables with his fingers shoved so far down your throat, and you’re half tempted to bite them off. But then Joshua ruts into you again, drawing a low groan from your throat as you fight to keep your composure. His chest is scalding hot against your back, electricity zipping up and down your spine every time you feel your bodies move and shift against each other.

God, you feel as if you could unravel right here. You’re half-tempted to plead to Joshua (once he finally takes his fingers out of your mouth) that he could do what he wanted with you, but the half-cognizant portion of your brain quietly reminds you that you need to be able to walk later.

Plus, you have a sneaking suspicion he'll do just that anyway. 

Joshua withdraws his fingers from your mouth and you choke for air, drool dribbling from your lips. He hardly lets you catch your breath before brazenly spitting on his already-soaked fingers, lowering his hand to rub cruel circles against your painfully tender clit. He’s barely touched you before you feel your climax re-building. Your body acts before you do, succumbing to Joshua like a wretched woman starved. 

“So touchy…,” he muses, as he continues to play with your clit, even tweaking occasionally to watch you writhe under him. Your stomach spasms as you gasp, digging your nails into Joshua’s thighs. You snake a hand up his neck, twisting your fingers in his thick, dark locks.

The words never even make it out of your mouth before Joshua draws his fingers away, jerking you roughly up by your hair. 

“Flip over,” Joshua says tersely, watching with amusement as you ungracefully slide off of his cock to lay on your back. You’re embarrassed by how needy and clumsy you’ve become. Joshua is criminally good as what he does, and your body is craving that final release; if he so much as looked at you a certain way you swear you might come untouched. 

Joshua spits on his hand again and pumps his cock a few times, eyes roaming over your body again, mapping the contusions blooming across your skin. His ego truly is through the roof, and if you weren't such a pathetic, wanton beast right now, you might even make fun of him for it. Dimly, you hope he’s going to shove his cock back in you and pound you into the mattress until you both come and that’d be the end of it. Problem solved! We can all go home now.

Well… you were half right. 

You weren't prepared for Joshua to press on the backs of your thighs until your knees were by your ears, crudely spreading your legs wider for him. He smiles up at you, smacking his cock against your cunt a few times and you choke, each lewd slap driving you nearer to the edge of madness. Joshua leans up against you until his face is inches away and presses a languid kiss to your lips. If you weren’t fearing for your sanity, it might’ve been a tender moment. 

“I’m gonna fuck you until you scream,” Joshua says, without decorum, calmly watching as your face falls. "And you're going to take it."

And he’s nothing if not a man of his word.

Joshua fucks you into the mattress until you’re a snotty, disgusting mess, moaning his name like some kind of fucked-up mantra. You know you’re supposed to hate his guts, but when he’s so deep in your guts, you can’t seem to think about anything except the way his cock slams into you, brutal and unrelenting, bringing you the closest you think you’ve ever come to seeing Heaven. 

In the time after you leave, you’ll faintly remember being fucked in one way, coming, being contorted into another degrading position, and promptly being fucked again. For more times than you can count, Joshua has you pleading, crying, begging like some insatiable harlot to let you come, and you don’t even have enough dignity left intact to care.

“Please,” you practically sob, “Joshua, please.” You’re a complete trainwreck under him, uttering his name over and over like some kind of filthy disciple. True to his word, he has you close to tears, practically pleading for his cock to ruin you— and it has.

Joshua braces himself on your thighs until his fingers leave marks, each stroke of his cock feeling even deeper than the last. After what feels like the umpteenth time, you don��t know if you can take any more denial, and he must sense it in the way you're scrabbling for his hand because Joshua finally relents. 

You let out the loudest, most unbridled cry yet as pleasure rushes through your body, tingling in your toes, your fingers, your stomach. It scrubs your brain of all thought, wiping the last of your hatred from your consciousness. The intensity of your release leaves you heaving, clenching around his cock until you can't breathe. Caught in the throes of pleasure, you don't see the way Joshua's brow knits together the more you whimper his name, the tighter you grip his forearm. As the very last of your orgasm ebbs, you collapse in relief, feeling woozy and deeply satisfied. 

Joshua continues to languidly pump his cock in and out of you while you ride out your high, a few residual whimpers falling from your lips. But with a simple touch from your fingers, he stills, the beginning pangs of overstimulation setting in. Your head feels like it's filled with cotton. 

Then you realize Joshua is still painfully hard, struggling to stay present. His hips stutter as he gives a half-hearted thrust, his mouth falling open lazily. Now it’s your turn to smile— little does he know, he’s put himself completely at your mercy. You clench around him a few times, watching with poorly disguised glee as his eyes flutter closed, his breath coming in short, shallow pants. 

“Should we deal with this like adults?” you ask as innocently as possible, smiling as Joshua nods desperately, the words lodged in his throat. His Adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows thickly. Oh, how quickly the tables have turned.

You pull yourself off of his cock slowly, hissing at the tenderness of your cunt. Instead of kneeling, however, you push Joshua onto his back, scarcely giving him a moment before taking him in your mouth. 

His cock is still rock hard, and Joshua tilts his head back with a throaty sigh as you moan around his length. His fingers curl into your hair and he pushes on your head, pressing your mouth down until you’re gagging around the base of his cock. Now he’s the one letting out breathy moans as you swirl your tongue around the head, cheeks hollowed, hand twisting up and down in tandem with your tongue. After everything the two of you had done, you know it won’t take long to tip him over the edge.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groans, and as his abdomen tightens in anticipation, you know he’s close. With one last vulgar slurp, Joshua comes hot in your mouth, cursing under his breath as his fingers tense in your hair. You freeze, letting Joshua come down from his high, and as he raises his head to look at you, you smile coyly. 

With a soft “pop!” you pull your mouth off his cock, swallowing as you do, letting the self-satisfied smirk spread on your lips. You can't even imagine how indecent you look, with your eyeshadow and mascara smeared ungracefully around your eyes, lips shiny with spit and cum, but there's something in the way Joshua looks at you that has you reeling with delight. 

“Christ,” is all Joshua manages to say before pulling you by the back of the head into a searing kiss. It’s a strangely intimate embrace considering all of the filthy words and insults he had hurled at you a few brief moments before, but considering he had also given you the best orgasm of your life, you choose not to dwell too much on it. 

When you break away, you feel a little light-headed. Joshua gives your ass a light smack, but it lacks the same aggression as before. He notices a stray dribble of cum on your chin, and collects it on his pointer finger, pushing it between your lips. You swirl your tongue around it, watching as his eyes burn. He pulls his finger from your mouth, resting his hand on your thigh instead.

"You look… crazy," Joshua says, fighting a smile. You catch sight of yourself in a mirror on the make-up table and let out a bark of laughter.

“Crazy” is the understatement of the year. You look fucked out of your mind. Your hair is knotted beyond belief, there's a jumble of bruises all across your chest, and there's no convincing excuse as to why your makeup would be completely streaked across your face. You hide your face in one of the pillows again, letting out a feeble groan.

"I'm gonna get fired, and it's all your fault," you moan, hiccuping into the soft silk of the pillowcase. Joshua presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder, surprisingly kind, and chuckles. 

"Well, lucky for you, I happen to know a thing or two about make-up.” He slides easily off the bed, pulling his pants back on before padding softly over to the make-up table. Joshua grabs a few brushes and bottles, joining you again on the bed, tugging you gently into a sitting position.

As he covers your ruined eye shadow, you wince a little, a dull twinge reminding you of the ache in your ass cheeks. To be honest, most of your body was a little sore, all thanks to Joshua. You laugh softly.

"Sorry," he mumbles, "I got a little carried away."

“Was that ‘dealing with it like adults?’” you ask mockingly, shutting your eye as Joshua lifts the eyeshadow brush. The soft hairs dance across your eyelid as he works. Joshua's skin still smells like it did all those years ago. Warm and citrusy.

You can’t see him, but you hear the smirk in his voice. “I guess so.” 

“Well, for the record, you definitely were the one being childish.” You make a sound of surprise as you feel a pair of lips against your own, fierce and hot. His teeth drag at your bottom lip as he pulls away, and you are unsuccessful at stifling the soft hiccup that escapes your throat.

“Who was the one crying just a little bit ago?” Joshua challenges you, and when you open your eyes, he’s sitting in front of you, nose just inches from your own. “Didn’t you say you don’t usually cry?” 

You open your mouth, ready to shoot back a bitchy little return when you see the smirk playing on Joshua’s lips. He’s goading you on. 

“That’s not fair and you know it,” you respond instead, hoping you seem nonchalant enough. (Or, at least, as much as you can be while you’re still butt-ass naked.) 

Joshua laughs, and the sound is surprisingly stunning. “Since when have I ever been fair?” He hands you your little silk dress and your thong from the floor, and it almost feels silly to be putting it back on, the delicate fabric still hardly covering anything at all. 

But he pouts, toying with one of the straps in between his fingers. “I’m almost sad to see you put this back on. You look so pretty all fucked up underneath me.” He gently tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, eyes sparkling mischievously, and you would be lying if you said your heart didn’t jump into your throat. 

You scoff, eyebrows rising on your forehead. “You’ll be lucky if you see me like that again after last time.”

He frowns, his smile sinking. “Yeah…,” Joshua scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “I— I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what I was thinking—"

“It was horrible,” you interrupt. "And this," you say, gesturing to the bed, "doesn't erase that."

But Joshua does look apologetic and it was long enough ago that you’re not that mad anymore. At least, in your post-coital bliss you certainly aren’t.

Joshua sits on the bed again, grabbing your hand in his. “Come home with me. I’ll make it up to you.” He presses a tentative kiss to your cheek for extra measure. 

You fight a smile, forcing yourself to frown instead. “Only if I don’t lose my job, and only if you help me cover these fucking hickies you gave me.” 

Joshua smiles, and he looks so different from the Joshua you met a couple hours ago that you can’t help but smile, too. 

When the crew comes back in the room, you try desperately to act as if nothing had happened, but every time Joshua looks at you, you have to suppress the girlish smile playing on your lips. The marks across your chest had been haphazardly covered with foundation, and the hair team looks bewildered as they assess the birds' nest on your head.

"What the hell did you do on your lunch break?" the stylist asks as she attacks the knots with a comb. 

It takes everything in you to avoid Joshua's eye. You clap a hand to your mouth a second too late as an ugly snort bursts past your lips, and you freeze, eyes wide. Joshua grins broadly, and you turn your head, fanning your bright red face.

Later that night, as you watch Joshua’s sleeping figure in the soft moonlight, you wonder how you managed to find yourself in his bed again, and when he kisses you good morning the next day, you’re sure it won’t be the last time.  

----

a/n: i have never publically shared any smut before so any feedback would be greatly appreciated!! :,) thank u for reading bae can't wait to share my next one <333

check out my other stuff! :)

#kpop #kpop imagines #seventeen #svt #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt x reader #svt imagines #joshua hong #joshua smut #hong jisoo

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Choir: ♪ Holy infant So tender and mild ♪

John: Wait, who describes an infant as mild?

Ted: Yeah, I'm more hung up on tender.

John: Yeah, somebody's eating this baby.

Priest: It's important that we remember just why we celebrate Christmas. We observe the holiest of all days to rejoice in the glory of the birth of Jesus Christ, born not from the seed of man but from divine origin. Never before or since have we, God's children, been blessed by such a miracle.

Ted: Excuse me. Yeah, over here. Hi. Ted, local bear. You're talking about a guy who came alive out of nowhere, right?

Priest: Yes.

Ted: Yeah, me.

Priest: I'm sorry?

Ted: I'm just saying, he's not the only one.

Priest: I don't think that's the same thing.

Ted: Well, you said, never before or since. But… You know, this guy.

Priest: The birth of Christ was a heavenly miracle.

Ted: I mean, what do you call this? I mean, I don't see any Pound Puppies or Monchhichis walking around.

Priest: Christ's birth was clearly ordained by God, marked by the star of Bethlehem, a miraculous beacon from the heavens.

John: There was a star there. Ted: There was a star, right?

John: Yeah, no, it was a shooting star.

Ted: I had a star. John: Yeah.

Priest: Jesus had a divine purpose. God sent him to us to spread the word that He loves us.

Ted (recorded voice): "I love you."

Ted: Your move, Friar Tuck.

Priest: I just want to finish the sermon.

Ted: I'm just saying, I might be Jesus. Might. I'm not saying for sure. I'm just saying it's a possibility. I might be Jesus.

Priest: That is incredibly disrespectful.

Ted: Says the guy eating babies.

-

John: OK, we can't read this whole thing.

Ted: Well, if we're gonna figure out if I'm actually Jesus, we at least got to skim it.

John: I have never seen pages so thin.

Ted: I know. It's like Kleenex with boring stories on it.

John: You know, I was thinking. How do we know that Dennis isn't Jesus?

Ted: Johnny, Jesus walked on water, all right? Walked! That means he had feet, not wheels.

John: Yeah, that makes sense.

Ted: Oh, wait, hang on. Stop right there. Look, look, look. Matthew 21:31, "Truly I say to you, the tax collectors and prostitutes go into the kingdom of heaven before you." Look at that. Jesus hangs out with hookers.

John: Yeah, and he says there's hookers in heaven too. He sounds a lot like you.

Ted: Oh, yeah, heaven is probably mostly hookers.

John: Wait, so you're paying for sex in heaven?

Ted: You're not paying them for sex. You're paying them to fly away.

John: Oh. Let's see. "And behold, I come quickly, and my reward is with me to give"…

Ted: What was that first part?

John: "Behold, I come quickly."

Ted: Jesus said that?

John: Yeah.

Ted: Yeah, that's not the kind of thing I'd start with "behold." What else? Well, look, look, look. Right there. Right there. John the apostle. Jesus had an apostle named John.

John: Holy shit. Those were, like, his buddies, right?

Ted: Yeah, yeah, there was Sleepy, Sneezy, Dopey, Johnny, Blitzen, and Larry, Darryl, and Darryl. There's no doubt anymore. I'm the Lord Jesus Christ.

Ted: Holy shit. Does this mean you have, like, powers and stuff?

Ted: Yeah, but I probably got to learn how to use them. Flip to the spells.

John: OK, spells, spells, spells. Ted: Spells, spells, spells.

Ted: Wonder what my alignment is.

John: Chaotic good.

Ted: Ah, yeah, yeah. Good, but, like, you know, I might fuck around a little bit.

John: Yeah.

Ted: Shit, we supposed to have dice?

-

Ted: OK, what do you say we try one of them spells, huh? Water into wine, here we go. "Meka leka hi, meka hiney ho. Meka leka hi, meka chiney ho." All right, try it.

John: Still water.

Ted: Fuck! Oh, you know what? It's 'cause we don't have the wand.

-

Blaire: Shit. I mean, how the fuck am I supposed to share a house with somebody who treats me like I have some fucking disease Guess there's no chance he's gonna apologize.

Ted: You know, if I can offer a bit of Christly wisdom, Blaire? You're smarter than he is, so you might have to go talk to him.

Blaire: Oh, fuck that. I am not extending an olive branch to somebody who's against basic equality.

John: Well, that's the thing, Blaire. I don't think he's really even against anything. Think he just didn't want to look stupid in front of his truck.

Blaire: Listen to yourself!

John: OK, then don't do it for Dad. Do it for Mom. Look, she's really bummed out right now, and it's all just 'cause Christmas is messed up. Look, I know it's gonna suck, but…

Ted: But it's like I say in the Book of Romulans: turn the other cheek. Do unto others. Say it, don't spray it. I'll have what she's having.

Blaire: You're an idiot.

Ted: Oh, what do we say to that, Apostle?

John: Four hell points.

Ted: Four hell points.

Blaire: What the fuck is a hell point?

Ted: It's how I determine which of my children, who I love, will be tortured forever.

Blaire: Oh, God. Ugh, all right, all right, I'll… I'll talk to him.

-

Ted: Well, I Jesus-ed the shit out of that one.

Blaire: You? You didn't do anything.

Ted: Eh, I worked in mysterious ways.

Sarah: How?

Ted: Where there was only one set of footprints, that's where I carried you.

Blaire: You watched 18 hours of TV yesterday. You barely moved.

Ted: When it most appears I'm not Jesus, that's when you need faith.

Sarah: Ted, you do know what happened to Jesus, right?

Ted: Yeah, he gave back the Gobstopper, and they gave him the chocolate factory. I mean, I think that's what happened. I'm reading, like, two books at once.

Sarah: They nailed him to the cross and crucified him for our sins.

Ted: Wait, what?

Susan: It was so nice of him to let them do that for us, wasn't it?

Ted: They killed him?

Sarah: Yeah.

Ted: Oh, shit. Yeah, fuck that. I'm out. Wait, maybe I'm Buddha. Buddha was lazy, right?

#Ted #Seth Macfarlane #John Bennett #Johnny Bennett #Max Burkholder #christianity #jesus christ #Loud Night #LOL #funny #religion #religion is a mental illness

[eisforeidolon]

Fan: So we know the Carver Edlund books are in the show, I mean, obviously in the episode they were like skimming one of the books. I was curious, do you think the brothers actually read every single one to kind of find out what their brother was thinking, or did they make a pact not to read them?

Jared: Sam read them, because Sam reads and reads and reads and reads. Well, he's dead now, but [pause for reaction] - too soon? When he was alive, maybe in heaven he just [gestures] has a bunch of books, it's all Carver Edlund.

Jensen: Sam probably was like, "Dean, you gotta read this" and Dean was like, "I don't read books, books read me!" That's probably how that went. He's like, "Why would I read it, I'm living it!"

Jared: [laughs] I don't want a recap!

Jensen: [laughs] Yeah, I don't know that Dean would have read one. Although I think I've got one of the prop books -

Jared: I think I do, too. I don't know which one I have -

Jensen: Yeah, we were full kleptomaniacs on the set of Supernatural. And I can admit that now, because I have not been served legal papers and it's been years.

Jared: What's your favorite thing that you have?

Jensen: My favorite theft? [Jared: Yeah?] Well, I mean, Baby's not really a theft because that one we actually got permission. That would have been awkward. "Guys, guys! Where are they going?" It's just this [points to banner of the Impala driving away], just tail lights, "Okay, I guess we're done with the year."

Jared: We got a little gift - so outside of our own kleptos? We got little gift packages from ? and the props department. And so there were some fun things.

Jensen: I will say this is not something that I got in our little, like - listen we're just getting rid of this stuff anyway because we're scraping all the sets and WB did give a list of 'these are the things that we actually want to obtain and retain'. And there were a lot of just kind of left over things that probably didn't seem relevant or special but were kind of special to us. Or it was like, you know, a broken angel blade something like that - oh, this was broken doing this stunt, it means something to me but it may not mean something to the studio, but. I will say one of the things that I just - that found its way into my pocket, I don't know how [Jared: Accident!] was years before we ended. It was when I knew that they were going to destroy Bobby Singer's house. [Jared taps his arm and points excitedly] On his desk, on Bobby's desk was this little antique brass calendar, that was like one of those things where you roll to turn the date and the day? And I don't know why, but on set I just always was playing with that while we were setting up our scenes or - and I just thought it was the coolest little vintage calendar thing. Yeah, it went missing, I don't know where it went.

Jared: All I know is that explains why Jensen always calls, "Dude, can you believe it's 1996?" "What?"

Jensen: "It's Tuesday, December 1996!" "Bro, stop messing with Bobby's calendar."

Jared: That's really funny, man! I stole two things - uh two things went missing from Bobby Singer's place - on the last day. One was a flask, Bobby Singer's flask, and one was the little owl figurine that was probably about this big [gestures], really heavy, it's a paperweight or something? And they went missing and then Jim was like [does gruff impression] "Aw, man, I was hopin' to get that owl, I don't know what happened to it." And I was like, "shit" and so I went to my trailer and got it and was like, "Here, Jim." But I still have the flask somewhere. From post-show, I think one of the little army men from the car [Jensen: Yeah], some of the Legos, uh, Samulet. Yeah. I know there were several of each - like hotel room cards, and then I got sent, like, three of the burner phones? I was like what the fuck am I gonna do with -

Jensen: Yeah, what am I gonna do with this?

Jared: From like, circa 2005.

Jensen: I just, yeah, it was like - when they were like, "Okay this is our last day in Bobby Singer's set, we're tearing it down tomorrow" Jared and I were like [Jared mimes shoving things in various pockets] full cat burglar. Like, snuck in to the stage - we went full Sam & Dean.

Jared: Crew guys would walk by, and be like, "Hey, what's going on?" and we're like, [looks obviously guilty] "Nothing! Nothing, man, how you doin'? It's good, it's good."

Jensen: The boys are acting really cagey today, I don't know what's going on -

Jared: Like stuff rolled up in our shirts -

Jensen: I'd have taken the couch if I could have fit it in my shirt.

#nashcon 2022 #j2 gold panel #long post

[peek-seek]

Revelation Pt1

Jake Sully x reader x Neytiri

(I'm obsessed with avatar right now)(this takes place after avatar 1)

(I am kind of bullshitting some stuff, I only have so much knowledge)

(okay last bracket, the talking bits my be a bit meh and it takes a couple chapters to actually get to pandora)

summary(ish not really): You were human, a scientist sent on a mission to Pandora. The escape from reality of hell on earth. The planet of new beginnings.

You've heard of Na'vi and what the humans that previously went there did. You know that going there means you won't get the warmest welcome and possibly meet with death because of what the RDA did, what humans did.

But you wanted an escape, to set your life a new. you were tired of going to the same 9 to 5, eating the same canned food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner with the occasional different flavoring.

You hated the feeling of just existing and never actually living, you loathed it. Feeling transparent, never exploring who you are, too consumed in fitting to standards of everyone around you so you didn't have to deal with useless conflict. You hated never being able to be you and never being able to explore it.

You hated having no one, not even yourself to turn to. Being alone was fine, but being lonely was miserable and you'd do almost anything to escape feeling that again. So when you saw a flyer asking for volunteers, you grabbed it, reaching and seeking a chance for escape.

The sheet asked for volunteers or people previously in the program to undergo training for a year before going to pandora. Pandora was already a place of interest before this offer, you only looked at a book or two here and there about the planet at the public library.

You looked into the species, the language, and some other cool facts in a kids book. Although, you didn't delve into things about Pandora, you just skimmed what was there and called it good.

The planet was always a place you wanted to go to but you thought you lost your chance to go so you never really explored the idea of going there, until that flyer.

You were excited to say the least, but also a bit doubtful. You probably wouldn't know much compared to the other volunteers and might end up embarrassing yourself. But you still wanted to go or at least see if you actually had a shot at going to Pandora. And it isn't like you were entirely clueless, of course you were pretty much clueless about a lot that involved Pandora. But you did get your masters in Micro Biology, just never pursued a job with it in mind.

You had no clue why they asked for volunteers or why they'd have flyers out for civilians to grab as they pleased, but you couldn't give up this chance.

The date on the flyer was a week away and you were nervous? Anxious? Scared? Nope. You were all of the above. Because you didn't know shit, you have no sense of direction if you managed to get on the planet, and have a selective(terrible) memory. So even if you tried to study, you'd probably forget it all as soon as you walked in due to stress. You aren't the most graceful person either.

You decided to pray to whoever and cross your fingers and toes and hope that it ends up okay. While you waited the for the upcoming interview, you stressed, researched, worked, and slept.. a lot. That whole week was a haze mostly due to the amount of powernaps and cramming your brain with information of past studies that didn't make much sense.

The big day finally came and you were scared shitless. you went to the place that the flyer said and arrived a half hour earlier (around 4:30 pm)so you had time to calm your nerves and possibly go over the flashcards you prepared.

You seemed to lose track of time skimming the cards because the clock said 5:05pm. Once you fully processed that you are late, you bolted out of your car and hauled ass to the building. It was a breath takingly beautiful building but you unfortunately didn't have time to admire the scenery.

You opened the door to see a room similar to a classroom, you took the closest empty seat and noticed about 70 or so people there. Some guy who was roughly 50 was talking in the front of the room, you'd assume about what the training would consist of.

You leaned over to the person beside you and mumbled," Did I miss much?"

They replied with, "He just began the introduction and basically said what we'd train. And that there would only be about 20 of us who'd be able to go to Pandora."

You look up and decided it would be weird if you didn't give your name," Thank you, I owe you one. My name is y/n, and you are?"

"Ezra, and no problem." You both draw your attention to the head of the room when it sounded like the guy, or rather Dr.Porter seemed to be talking about something important.

"As you all know, Pandora is a dangerous place, not only due to the species there, but due to our reputation. The first rule is that it is forbidden to go into Na'vi territory, if you do not obey that rule, you will be killed. That was out agreement with the Na'vi. If we break that rule, you are not only putting yourself in danger, but the whole squad. I hope if you listen to any of these rules that you will at least listen to this one.

The second rule is no dating, it makes things messy, it's unprofessional. And the third is pretty obvious, don't do stupid shit that could endanger your squad. Testing will begin shortly, we will test you on physical health, what you know, and if you are compatible. You see that in front of you is paper and pencil, good luck."

You are left flabbergasted because you thought testing would be at the end of the year and not now. You nervously glance at Ezra. "Good luck." is all he said and you shakily replied the same.

You hesitantly grab the the pencil and put your name on the paper. You think it'll now take a miracle to get in to the program. 'Fuck it' you thought and scribbled out the answer to the ones you knew and guessed for the ones you didn't. You were bullshitting left and right and prayed you would pass.

With that the writing portion of the test was done and you were now onto the compatibility test where they look at your DNA and blood. They took you to a different room after you handed in your paper. The room was pretty much a waiting room you all sat at and they called your names one by one, just like at a doctors office.

A nurse came out looking at her clipboard and said your name. You immediately jumped from your seat and followed her to yet another room. It was your standard room with a bed and wrap covering it. You laid down and waited for a doctor to come in. They ran a bunch of weird tests while you sat patiently for it to be over.

Once they were done with that a different nurse came in and simply said the next test will begin shortly and that he'd take you to the place it was being held.

You were sweating a bit thinking about the next test. But before your mind could waver too much, you were already at the door to the testing grounds. The nurse opened the door, gave you a quick good luck, and sent you on your way.

The room was quite big. It had really tall ceilings, and was pretty spacious. You see a group of people in white coats recording data on the volunteers that were being tested. One of the recorders asked you to stand by a group of people and you noticed Ezra and decided to wave him down. You guys talked for a bit about the writing portion of the test. You both wished each other well and parted ways so that you could take the last part of the test.

The testers told you to do as many jumping jacks, pushups, squats, and line sprints as possible and then told you to lift the heaviest weight you could. Your limbs were jelly and you think you went to the afterlife about 12 times by the time it was over. They said you could go home and rest and that they'd call you if you got in.

You didn't expect much but at least happy you tried. You got in your car, drove home, and landed face first on your bed and slept like a rock, you called off work, no way were you going tomorrow.

(okay, that was the first chapter, I am kind of going with the flow for the plot. I don't have much in mind other than reader is gonna get in on that jake and Neytiri action. I don't know if I'll update regularly but I liked writing this so far and am planning on working on the next chapter after I post this. I also do not know how long or short this series will be but I hope you all enjoy it)

#reader insert #female reader #avatar x you #jake sully x reader #neytiri x reader #jake sully x neytiri

[foreststranger]

JING YUAN - Trailblazer Gets Paid

ꜱᴛᴀʀʀɪɴɢ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ 『honkai: star rail』jing yuan & child gn!reader (adoptive parent/child familial dynamic) ft. yanqing as a younger (?) brother

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ based on a request i’ve gotten (read it here) in case you couldn’t tell, i did not “get it done tomorrow.” anyway i was unsure of the motive behind reader running away so I’m hoping my idea was what you were looking for, anon 👍 ALSO SORRY FOR ALTERING IT A BIT IDK HOW TO WRITE TIME SKIPS AND STUFF SO

𑁍 ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.0k

ɴᴏᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ SORRY THIS TOOK LONGER THAN EXPECTED I’VE BEEN REVAMPING HOW I DO TEXTS IN MY FICS WHILE TRYING TO WRITE THIS AND IT’S BEEN TAKING SO LONG THE PROCESS IS IMPOSSIBLY TEDIOUS GGGGHHHH anyway my first request yay i usually write romantic pairings so this is a step out my comfort zone but i hope i could do this idea justice. i love doing requests and i wish i had more lol (cough cough). sorry if this is messy btw ANYWAY this fic lowkey had me sobbing jing yuan would literally be the best dad ever (to my children cough cough) ALSO HAPPY MONTHIVERSARY TO MY ACCOUNT WOOOOO ALSO ALSO, AGAIN, THIS IS VERY UNPOLISHED AND I’M POSTING THIS AT 4AM SO SORRY IF STUFF IS WHACK AT THE END

An heir. A successor. Some would kill for the power of controlling an army, for the power of an entire ship of the Hexafleet.

Yet, you were running away from home for that reason. Though he’d never said it, you could tell that Jing Yuan wanted you to take on his responsibility when he eventually couldn’t.

And were you ready for that? No. Absolutely not. To have the weight of the Luofu on your shoulders, to carry the burden of being General… You were never going to be ready.

You hear your phone’s notification going off maybe ten times before it goes quiet. Yanqing must have finally read your texts.

You don’t bother responding to his messages, continuing down the street while trying to ignore the dinging and buzzing from your bag. Even at night, the Luofu does not rest. The sky is a flurry of blinding colours, leading your way to… somewhere. Streetlights still glow brighter than ever, and many people rush by you — seemingly coming from nowhere.

You’re running away. You’re actually running away.

It’s not like Jing Yuan is a horrible father. In fact, quite the opposite. You love him, and you’re sure he loves you dearly as well. It makes you feel bad for leaving but… you can’t handle how disappointed he’ll be if you tell him that you’re not ready for your responsibilities. You could never be the General of the Cloud Knights. Not with thousands of years of training and the best teachers that the Xianzhou had to offer. The sword, the battlefield… they are not what calls to you. Truth be told, you stopped attending sword lessons about a month ago. Yanqing still sparred with you on occasion but he could tell you weren’t as sharp as you used to be. Though, now was not the time to think of the past. You had to think of the future.

Where are you going to stay?

A thought crossed your mind. You reach for your phone again, setting down your bag as you pull up your messages with the Nameless. Specifically, a friend of the Luofu. Surely they’d be willing to help you out.

You lean against the wall, a sigh of relief escaping you. Until you spot a group of Cloud Knights in the distance. They’re definitely searching for you, talking to every passerby they can see. Yanqing must’ve told Jing Yuan already… You duck into an alleyway, crouching down and hiding yourself behind a couple boxes. Hopefully, the Trailblazer will find you before those soldiers do. Though, you’ll be found soon by the Cloud Knights if your phone doesn’t stop going off. You try to ignore the many messages flooding in from Jing Yuan. The notifications keep popping up on your screen as you go to your settings. You have to keep swiping them away because they’re blocking your view.

It’s a flurry of texts. You lightly skim over a few others he sent. Many along the lines of ‘I’m worried about you’ and apologies for not always being there for you. They make you feel a little guilty for leaving so suddenly, but not guilty enough to talk to him. He wouldn’t understand.

Jing Yuan sends another. You read it carefully, your eyes lingering on each word. ‘Stay safe. I love you.’

“Sorry, dad…” your voice is a little shaky as you mutter under your breath. You can’t imagine how worried he is right now. You tap on your messages, contemplating on whether or not to respond. Instead, you open your chats with the Trailblazer.

Just then, your phone dies. Perfect. You’ve lost your only means of communication. And you’ve just remembered that you didn’t bring your phone charger. Maybe you aren’t cut out for running away…

Slowly, a familiar silver haired friend approaches your hiding spot, trying as discreetly as they can to move the boxes away.

“Trailblazer!” You whisper-yell. They offer you their hand, and you take it with a sigh of relief.

“Finally… What took you so long? We have to hurry before I’m caught.”

“Mhm.”

“Are they still close by? The Cloud Knights.”

“Mhm.”

“Then come on! I need to get on the Express!”

“Mhm.”

“…How do we get there, Trailblazer?” You look up into their eyes, begging for an answer that isn’t ‘mhm.’ And as you wish, you’re granted one.

“Up, I guess.” They finally say.

“That’s not very helpful.”

“I dunno. Usually people just… appear on the Express. I’ll ask Himeko to help.” They pull out their phone, supposedly texting Himeko.

“Er… We can just take a ship off the Luofu.”

“Okay. Let’s go!” Trailblazer — with their phone still in hand — pulls you along towards the closest port. Your almost thrown off balance, leaning on them for support as they grip your sleeve.

“Wait! I’m gonna be spotted if-“ You cut yourself off with a groan. “Nevermind.”

The ride out of the Luofu is uneventful, though a little awkward. The Trailblazer remains on their phone the entire time while you avoid looking at them.

“Well… welcome to the Astral Express, [name].”

“Is this it?” You’re a little disappointed in how… empty and unwelcoming it feels.

“Obviously not. This is just the lounge,” they pause. “So, do you want a tour or…?”

“I think I’ll be fine.” You turn to one of the windows, looking out at the Xianzhou Luofu.

“How long are you staying? I’m guessing Pom Pom would want to know,” the Trailblazer says, approaching you. In response, you shrug.

“We’ll see.”

“Are you… going to join the us? The Nameless.”

“I don’t know, really.” The Trailblazer goes quiet for a moment.

“…I can tell that Jing Yuan didn’t agree to let you come here. You’re running away, aren’t you?”

“Did the Cloud Knights tell you that?”

“It was just a guess… You can’t stay here for long. None of us are babysitters, [name].” The Trailblazer crosses their arms, shifting their legs as they speak.

“I don’t need one. The only thing I need is a place to stay; that’s it. Until I figure something out.”

“Alright then…” they sigh. “It’s getting pretty late. There’s a room to the right of Dan Heng’s that you can sleep in.” The Trailblazer turns to leave while you continue staring out the window. You find yourself thinking about Jing Yuan and how much you miss him already. Was leaving the Luofu — and leaving your family — really the best course of action?

You head to your room. The eerie quietness of your walk there unsettles you. It makes you yearn for home. There is no noise audible apart from the irritating train ambience. There is no ‘good night’ from your father as you lay down in bed. There is no one to tuck you in as you stare at the ceiling, awaiting sleep. There is nowhere that could be as lonely as this place, away from your father and brother. And away from a life you abandoned. And yet, there is no way you could ever go back. You shut your eyelids tight, hoping that when you wake up, everything will fix itself. That when you wake up, you’ll be a happy kid, living a happy childhood. But even just imagining that is hard on this uncomfortable mattress.

The sound of banging on the door wakes you up.

“[name]! It’s time to get up! Conductor Pom-Pom made breakfast for you!” Someone from outside your room intones. You recognized the sing-song voice as March 7th’s. With a groan, you rise from the bed and shuffle over, managing to turn the doorknob after a bit of a struggle.

“Mmh… Good morning…” Your voice is groggy as you rub your eyes.

“Oh. The Trailblazer told me you were young but I didn’t think you were a…” She doesn’t continue, instead looking down at you with a hint of sympathy in her eyes. “Let’s go eat,” she says, changing the topic.

“In a bit. Just… just give me a few minutes.”

“Whenever you’re ready, [name]. I guess we’ll wait for you.” March shrugs.

After a minute of rustling through your bag, you exit the bathroom, realizing that you forgot to bring toiletries. It seems like you forgot many essentials.

“[name]! You’re here!” March 7th waves you over to a table covered in many carefully crafted dishes. To her right is a serious looking black haired man, staring longingly out the window. To her left, a woman you vaguely remember as Himeko. Across from the three of them is the Trailblazer. You decide to take a seat beside the latter, since they’re really the only one of the Nameless you’re acquainted with. It feels a little… awkward being around the others.

“I thought there were five of you,” you say, recalling a fifth member of the Express Crew.

“Welt didn’t want to join us. He was busy making… preparations,” the Trailblazer answers. You look down at your plate to be greeted with your favourite meal. Your… favourite meal. What an odd coincidence that Pom-Pom decided to make a dish that happened to be your favourite. Jing Yuan had introduced it to you back when he had only just adopted you. The fragrance emitting from the plate is staggeringly nostalgic. You almost burst into tears being near this thing. It looks identical to how he’d used to make it. Hesitantly, you bring a spoonful to your mouth. The flavours that you taste are painfully reminiscent of home. They sting your tongue with memories of your father.

“…The… conductor made this?” You ask, struggling to understand. The Trailblazer gives a curt nod, their attention hyper-focused on you. You try to blink away the tears in your eyes but you’re sure they’re visible by now.

“[name]? Yesterday, I was on my phone…” They pause dramatically. “Can you guess who I was texting?” Then, it hits you.

“…Jing Yuan.”

“And can you guess who made breakfast for you?”

“Where is he?” You breathe out, clearly exhausted as you stand from the table, setting down your utensils.

The Trailblazer leads you down the hall, away from your breakfast and the others and back to your room.

“He’s in here?” You hesitate to open the door.

“I guess I’ll leave you to it, [name].” They speed off without another word to you. It takes you a couple minutes to work up the courage, but you eventually grab a solid hold on the doorknob and push it open. He’s sitting on the bed, staring at his phone. But his attention snaps to you as soon as you open the door.

“[name]. I’m… glad we finally have a chance to talk. I trust you have been doing well here?” You don’t point out how you’ve been on the Express for less than a day, still too nervous to talk. “What‘s wrong, [name]?” Jing Yuan asks. And finally, you answer.

“I… don’t want to take your place as the General.” Your speech is slow and stretched out as you try to convey your thoughts and feelings. “It seems like… too much for me. I’ve never been good at all that… stuff, and you know that.” He sighs as you talk, sadness in his eyes.

“Is that why you ran away? Why didn’t you tell me?” Jing Yuan stands up and approaches you. “I never asked you to become my successor, did I, [name]?” His hand rests on your shoulder in an attempt to reassure you.

“I was scared that you’d be… disappointed in me.”

“Do you really think so low of me?”

“…Sorry.”

“I do not care what you wish to become in the future, [name]. You’ll still always be my kid. I did not intend for you to take on my position. You’re too young to govern the Luofu. No offence.” He leans in, pinching your cheek with his other hand. “You’d be quite capable, [name].” You look away as he lets go, a little embarrassed.

“Thanks, dad…?”

“Have we sorted this out then? You know that I’ll always love you, yes?”

“Mhm. Yeah.” You hold your arms out to him, and Jing Yuan pulls you into a tight embrace.

“I’m happy to be your father, [name]… Don’t do this again, okay? You can talk to me about anything. Don’t run away anymore. You really worried me…”

“Right. Sorry, dad.”

“Come on then. Let’s go home.”

ask before translating, taking inspo from (not copy), reposting, etc. my work. remember to credit me and if you’re taking inspo from it, please @ me as I’d like to see what you do with my ideas!

#honkai star rail #honkai: star rail #jing yuan #child!reader #request #jing yuan & reader #.forestreqs​​ ☆

[eponymous-rose]

It's a fairly busy week, and this kind of thing always helps me stay on-task - here's the day in a nutshell.

7am: Wake up (groggily) - I've found that I like having extra time in the morning, especially early in the week. Cuddles with Clara the cat, a little yoga (I have accumulated enough broken bones and scars that being totally sedentary means my whole body promptly turns to stone), shower, a nice breakfast and coffee while I catch up on work e-mails. A scientist from Switzerland who wants to do a two-year postdoc with me has sent me a document summarizing the research ideas we discussed at our last meeting! It's very neat stuff, and we're going to be putting together an application in the summer to get the full two years funded externally.

9am: Dry hair and set off to work! Manage to catch the 9:20 bus and have a chill commute to campus. Check e-mail again on my way into the building and realize our facilities manager has responded to an earlier e-mail, so I detour to his machine shop and chat a bit about the issue (I'm teaching an instrumentation class this quarter, and one of my students has been having trouble with her datalogger). He gives me a new USB cord, so I jog upstairs to try it out - no luck, just empty com ports and error messages galore :(. I also check out some of the hardware, but there are no suggestively bent pins or anything to give clues as to what's happening, and it looks like the console has stopped remote readings altogether. At a bit of a loss, I send him an update and head down to the lounge to get some hot water for my tea, then sit upstairs and quickly skim through the slides for today's lecture, which I haven't actually seen since last year. While I'm doing that, our facilities manager comes up with a fresh new datalogger and offers to configure it for me while I'm in class!

10:30am: Class goes well! We talk about some fun topics that are near and dear to my heart, and while everyone is a little on the shy and less-talkative side today, two different people are brave enough to confirm they got the right answer for the in-class exercise. Early on, the facilities manager comes in with the fresh datalogger, and I hand it off to the relieved student. Hopefully this does the trick! I get through my slides a few minutes early (probably because of the aforementioned quietness), which gives me time before my next meeting to quickly post grades for the students who gave an in-class presentation on Friday, as well as to link to the cloud recording of today's lecture.

11:30am: Research meeting! A colleague and I are co-advising an undergraduate research intern on a project we're seeking funding for (and have just hired a graduate student onto). She's progressing really nicely and just had a couple questions about a polar stereographic projection she was working on ("Is it meant to look that weird?" "Yes, absolutely."). We got her pointed in the right direction for the next couple of weeks, then raided my candy bowl and hung around a couple minutes chatting about how her classes are going. As she and my colleague leave, I see a message from the student with the troublesome datalogger confirming that the new one works! Whew. I send the victorious news to our facilities manager, with my endless thanks. The meeting wrapped up quickly, so I have time to munch on a protein bar (I usually pack a lunch, but I know I'm going out for a big dinner tonight) and enjoy my tea.

I'm a little nervous about a class I'm teaching next quarter - it's a really specialized grad-level class and if it gets fewer than 5 students, it gets canceled. Currently nobody is registered at all. On my colleague's advice, I put together an e-mail to all the grad students to let them know what the course has to offer.

I still have some time before my next calendar item, so I jump into the early stages of a scientific journal review due on Friday. It's a bit of an annoying process - it was originally rejected, and I got brought onto the resubmission when it was a long-ass paper plus 100 pages of replies to reviewers, and now we've made it through TWO MORE ROUNDS of reviews, so it's basically just a giant novel-sized mess of people yelling at each other. But it's gonna get done!

Just as I'm getting into the swing of things, two of my students pop by and stand in the hallway giggling nervously. Apparently they can't find their TA for another class and have a question about class material, so they figured they'd ask me instead - I gently redirect them to, you know, the professor of that course. "Yeah, but we're scared of him," they say, and I try not to die laughing with the knowledge that his wife is in the office next door to me hearing all this. Mixed feelings on this one - on the one hand, I'm glad my students see me as someone they can come to with questions. On the other, it's a time crunch on me that my old-white-dude colleagues don't have to contend with. They eventually head off in search of their professor while I go upstairs for...

12:30pm: Forecast briefing! We have weekly meetings for a national weather forecasting competition we're all in - it involves issuing 4 forecasts a week. I'm... okay at it (usually in the top quarter of competitors, at least beating the models), but we have some RIDICULOUSLY talented forecasters in our group. Today's briefing is entertaining enough, and we all squabble over where we want to forecast next week (the ~1000 participants vote on the city).

1:30pm: Research meeting! This one is with my most junior graduate student, who's a bit overwhelmed with coursework (the first year of our Master's degree is 9 extremely difficult courses before they finally get to do research full-time). We talk through it a bit and he asks for my advice on project/time management, so we chat about pomodoros, the Star Trek Scotty method (always give yourself a buffer and act as though things are going to take more time than they really will), and not writing the entire day off if you wind up doing nothing all morning - you can still hit a reset switch and have a busy afternoon if you need to. Just generally "be kind to yourself, because in the end the self-imposed guilt of not finishing something will stop you from progressing more than anything else." We also talk organizing code and avoiding hard-coding even when it makes the initial time investment much higher. It's a good chat, ending with some restaurant recommendations when he finds out I'm heading to his hometown this weekend! We wrap up early with some specific goals for the next couple weeks, and, after sending in my forecasts for the day, I get back to my review. I also order 5 lbs of candy to refill my candy bowls. It's been that kind of quarter. An e-mail comes in from a student interested in my course and asking for more info! She confirms she's probably going to take it, after consulting with her advisor. Heard from another colleague that she's got one student interested - two down, three to go!

2:30pm: Research meeting! How obvious is it that I like to front-load my week with meetings? This one's with a freshman undergraduate student who's started working with me as a research assistant on a new project... except the project we were originally going to work on together is going very very slowly (our collaborators at a different university are dragging their heels). He met with my PhD student a while back and got really interested in his work, and he apparently knows more than enough coding to be able to follow along, so I went ahead and got him access to 300,000 core hours and 1,000 GPU hours on a national supercomputer to do some exploratory data analysis. As you do. Tragically, the initial project also only works on PCs, and he's a Mac user, so that's another reason to pull him off one project and onto the other. Alas. The project he can't do is a SUPER appealing project to me (very repetitive, boring work that requires little brain-power - please let me do this from time to time!), so I might participate for the heck of it. Meeting ends a little early, so it's back to the review.

3:30pm: We're hiring! It's a dual hire with another department, so it's been a bit fraught, but the grueling two-day interviews roll on. This is number 3/5, so we're getting into the swing of things, and it's time to go attend the public seminar portion of the interview for this candidate. He is... absolutely astonishing on paper, like a once-in-a-generation kind of mind, so I'm already excited to see his talk. We'd be incredibly lucky to have him, although I'm not entirely clear on why he's leaving a super prestigious professorship two years in. I didn't get to schedule a one-on-one meeting with him since he has to leave earlier than expected tomorrow, but I'll be joining him for dinner tonight. The talk goes quite well, although I hear the students buzzing over whether he's genuinely collaborating or just doing the tech-bro thing of coming in and claiming to solve all our problems... Plenty to think about at dinner tonight. I believe this will be what the kids call a vibe check. (We also have a chalk talk tomorrow where he'll present his work to just the faculty + postdocs, so more chances there!)

5pm: Got some time to kill before heading over to dinner at 5:45. I was originally going to do some work, but my brain is a little fried at this point and I may just zone out and scroll for an hour. More tea! That'll solve everything.

5:45pm: Meeting a colleague to go grab the candidate and Uber over to the restaurant together - I love this place! Lots of good food, and plenty of non-alcoholic cocktails and veggie/vegan/gluten-free options, so an ideal spot to bring a guest speaker or faculty candidate. He was very pleasant to chat with and really knew his stuff despite having just had an exhausting day. Good food, good chats all around. Home by 9:30pm, phew.

#eponymous academia tag

[anonymousad]

Shelterwood: a follow-up and apology

someone reached out to me after publishing my Shelterwood crowdfunding post with some very valid stuff that I want to address. they mistakenly sent it non-anonymously (something I confirmed with them before just responding to the Ask), so in the spirit of keeping things unidentifiable around here I am going to screenshot the entire message (so you can know I'm not selectively cutting anything out) and then I'll respond to it in chunks:

A Genuine Apology

so let's start with the first chunk of text:

I'm going to be straight with you: while there were absolutely some points you made about the Shelterwood crowdfund that I agreed with, like how unreasonable the goal seemed for a show produced by a novice showrunner, something's really sticking out here. That thing is that Stephen Indrisano and Nigel McKeon are both young, white, non-binary novice showrunners who secured some high-billing talent and picked unreasonably high crowdfunding goals, but you treated one of them with a lot of grace and understanding... and then turned around and not only accused the other of essentially being the problem with the current state of podcasting, but also called them cis in the process despite having acknowledged their pronouns earlier in your write-up. That was... certainly something. It's almost like you had a specific point you wanted to make, so you just sort of conveniently forget that Stephen is non-binary to make it. That or you don't actually think Stephen is non-binary and were engaging in some passive-aggressive gatekeeping, which also sucks, just in a different way.

this is 100% something I fucked up on, I will readily admit that. my accidental erasure of Stephen's identity as a non-binary person is not okay, intentional or not.

I wrote the initial post gradually over the course of just over a week, top to bottom, and then did a quick skim of it at the end to make sure things were still up-to-date in accordance with any updates to the campaign itself. a result of this is that between when I started the post (where I included Stephen's pronouns of "he/they)" and when I was writing some of the later parts I had forgotten this. I think part of the reason is that the campaign is not really about Stephen, so it isn't like there are consistent references to him as an individual. in the few places there are, such as the intro section of the main text and the FAQ, "he" is used exclusively, which I think mistakenly put that in my mind as Stephen having a male gender identity because I hadn't seen a self-identification as being non-binary on their website or Twitter. but someone deciding to use a specific set of pronouns in the text of something like this (to avoid confusion or for any other reason) does NOT invalidate their use of other pronouns elsewhere. similarly you don't have to outwardly proclaim your gender identity for it to be respected and not assumed as cis.

I am genuinely very sorry about this, it was a mistake and I am in the process of editing the original post to reflect Stephen's proper gender identity.

now then.

let's talk about the difference between Nigel (Among the Stacks) and Stephen and the way I approached them, because you're right that there was a difference.

I think a key way that these two projects differ is that one of them was very clearly made by someone who didn't know what they were doing and was in over their head. Among the Stacks was a clear trainwreck from the moment they started revealing how bloated the cast and crew were. I had many conversations with other creators during that early time where we were all wondering how this thing could function with so many cooks in the kitchen, and how you could have a coherent story with that many characters. it was clearly a product of someone new and over-excited who didn't have a real idea of how to do what they were dreaming of.

in contrast, Shelterwood seems to be genuinely well-thought out and approached like it was created by someone who has done their research and been part of the community for a while. it has a full concept with a clearly outlined size and goals and is a very realistic sounding first project. if it weren't for the goal and the rewards we wouldn't be talking about it at all. as a pitch it is perfectly reasonable.

I went a bit easier on Nigel because just from looking a lot of us could tell that Among the Stacks was going to end in disaster. we didn't know when or how, just that there was no way a project like that could actually succeed. I also knew from interactions between Nigel and other people that she was not very good at taking critique or hearing other people out on stuff that they didn't agree with. I went into that post with the intention of being harsh but fair, because I wanted Nigel to hear what I had to say and LISTEN. not just brush it off as "someone is jealous of my amazing idea and so they are being mean". I was still a bit mean in that post at some parts, I will admit that. my tone can swing a bit far on the sarcastic side, especially the longer I spend on a given post digging into things.

Shelterwood is full of people who should know better, something that it makes a point to brag about. it isn't just one person's dream project that they don't know how to wrangle, Stephen is clearly a proficient showrunner to have pulled all of this together (and I do genuinely find the show's concept to be interesting, even if I didn't really communicate that in the post as much as I could have). Stephen has ALSO been around the block a few times in regards to working on audio dramas, whether or not they have helmed their own. this means that from the start my expectations for them were higher.

my goal was not to accuse Stephen of being "the problem", but I think that this campaign is INDICATIVE of a lot of the "the problems" going on right now with audio drama crowdfunding.

I did seriously think about pulling the last section into a completely separate post, but what I wrote applies to the context of this campaign and so I felt it was important to have that connection. if I had been able to fully communicate my thoughts on it before now, say for the Arden campaign, it would have been part of that post. but it took me a lot of time to get those words down in a way that actually communicated what I think the problem is.

I know having it as part of the Shelterwood post has an implication, and the implication is correct that this campaign is PART of the problem, but it isn't the whole problem.

It's also very weird that you lumped Shelterwood, Arden, Among the Stacks and Afflicted in with The Magnus Protocol, which was on an entirely different level. They're not comparable. Not a single one of those first four shows actually made their crowdfund goals. In Afflicted's case, the all or nothing state of the crowdfund means 100% of that money was returned to backers. The Among the Stacks crowdfund was cancelled. Which means that for 50% of your given examples, literally none of that money ended up tied up in those shows rather than being contributed to other, smaller shows. This is not comparable with The Magnus Protocol crowdfund situation, and I think you know that.

it's 100% true that The Magnus Protocol is on a whole other level than these other campaigns, I said as much in my write-up. it is not comparable and I wasn't attempting to compare nearly $1 million USD to $26,000.

what I was attempting (and may have failed) to do was to point out that what Rusty Quill did was change the playing field for the worse. when looking at those two numbers you can much more easily make attempts to justify the high goals being asked for here, because in comparison that's downright reasonable to what they raised.

as a note: TMP had a funding goal of £15,000 (approx. $19,500 USD). so they weren't actually asking for hundreds of thousands of dollars to make 3 seasons of a show. in fact, what they asked for is less than the campaigns I'm trying to call out here. that Kickstarter has a lot of things that were suspect about it and felt slimey and exploitative, but the asking price was not really one of them.

however.

just because they didn't ASK for that much money doesn't mean they didn't know it would happen (maybe not to that extent, but still). this still had the same impact, which from what I can tell is making some people think that audio drama crowdfunding is for making a profit.

as for the next point about none of the shows except for TMA 2 hitting their goals:

the amount they are walking away with isn't really the point.

at the end of the day, it's about the fact that the more stuff like this happens, the more it is NORMALIZED. and these kinds of goals getting normalized is harmful.

as an example, in the world of video games there is something called "microtransactions". for anyone who doesn't know, these are additional, small purchases you make in a game that you often have already paid upwards of $60-70 USD for. in the beginning, they were marketed as "just cosmetic" and not going to impact gameplay. and so people didn't fight back too hard when EVERY game started implementing them. but of course, what that did was move the bar. it normalized people paying extra money on top of their purchase for something that used to be included for free with a game. and so the companies started pushing the needle further. and further.

now, this isn't a direct parallel for a lot of reasons, but when greed is being put forward as normal again and again (even when it continues to result in failure) it starts to cement it as something "normal". something to be expected.

the larger problem here is that these are unsustainable amounts of money to be trying to get out of the community.

which connects to this next section:

Speaking of The Magnus Protocol, there's also an assumption being made here that someone deprived of the option of helping one of these shows reach their crowdfund goal is automatically going to donate to another show... and I need you to remember that The Magnus Protocol's final tally was something stupid like 4000% of their original goal. Lower crowdfunding goals don't stop people from contributing once that goal has been reached. People just keep donating to that project. None of those people were donating to make sure the thing got made- they were donating because they liked The Magnus Archives, and the hard to swallow pill here is that that doesn't mean they would've contributed to other crowdfunds otherwise. I have my own issues with The Magnus Protocol thing. But the statement that that crowdfund snatched money out of the pockets of smaller shows by having an unreasonably high goal just straight-up does not hold water. That's nothing. It's 4000% less than nothing. You're allowed to be mad that that campaign got such a ridiculous amount of funding when so many smaller shows are struggling. You don't need to couch it in pseudo-logic to justify feeling that way. We're all mad about it. It's okay.

this is definitely a good call-out, this person is right that someone not donating to one campaign does not mean that money will go to another. in a lot of cases, the only reason someone sees a campaign is because it is being promoted by the things they already like (in The Magnus Protocol's case that obviously being The Magnus Archives), and that means they probably aren't going to be choosing between every campaign that is out there and deciding where their $5 is going to go. they might just as easily pocket it and buy a nice coffee the next day.

and that absolutely sucks, because it would be nice for the love that some people have towards specific shows to be something that extends to the whole medium.

but I do think there's something to be said for feeling like even a small donation is making an impact. I would feel kind of bad to only be able to give $20 towards a $10k+ goal, it isn't even a drop in the bucket towards what is needed and if I care enough to donate to something I do want it to succeed. but that same $20 to a campaign only asking for $3000? that's a lot more tangible of an impact. enough so that I could feel good about splitting that $20 between two projects maybe.

that isn't 100% the point of what you were saying, I know that. the reality is that not everyone in this community has a general investment in the success of others.

I think where that becomes the biggest problem is when some people only seem to have an investment in themselves, and no one else. that's where these things become problems, when the larger needs of the community are ignored for the sake of a few who repeatedly succeed.

I'm kind of bleeding a bit into my response to the next part, so here that chunk is:

And do I agree that we as a community need to start talking about what is and is not realistic when it comes to crowdfunding? Yeah, absolutely. You have a point there. That's a valuable and timely observation and I'm glad somebody said it. Unfortunately, the value of that point was absolutely buried by the extremely obvious fact that this time, in this case, something about this project is personal for you. I don't know what it is specifically, but I do feel the need to ask: You are aware that Tal Minear is involved in the show as a graphic designer and minor actor, right? They have nothing to do with the crowdfund or the rest of production. Their name being attached doesn't mean they're secretly running the show. This is not Tal's show. They'd be credited as a producer if they were that involved. So why do you feel the need to keep bringing them up? Anyway, it's extremely difficult to take your analysis in good faith when it's so transparently motivated by some sort of personal distaste for somebody/the people in the project, and that's a shame, because some of the things you're saying have value.

I certainly didn't shy away from pointing a bit of a finger at Tal Minear for promoting this ideology, among others. their clear involvement in this project makes me immediately more suspicious, because Re: Dracula was a self-admitted cash grab. and that stain on their character is not going to go away for me.

it's less that it's "personal" for me, and more that this is a figure in the community that I have repeatedly seen presented as an expert that MUST be listened to. including by themself. ESPECIALLY when it comes to the matter of crowdfunding.

now, if I were friends with someone like that AND they were involved with my project that was about to have a campaign, would I not lean on that resource? even just for advice on how to put it together and what needs to be included. Tal just wrote a small little article for Descript that has some very generic crowdfunding tips, so they are arguably the most knowledgeable person involved in the campaign to go to for advice and feedback.

I know for a fact that Tal has given crowdfunding advice unsolicited to people running campaigns, usually in the form of asking why crew is not being paid appropriately (a valid question in most cases where actors tend to get a huge portion of the budget). so I can't imagine a world where they didn't give at least a little input to a friend for a show that they are actively involved in.

I don't think they are running anything behind the scenes, no, Tal is not part of some audio drama Illuminati. but I do recognize the high esteem to which they are held by MANY community members.

my goal was to call out the culture that has grown around audio drama crowdfunding, and the ways that I've seen it hurting most people who attempt to do it. I have noticed that Tal is a big part of what has normalized that.

as for the ways in which I brought them up, yeah I like to be a bit snide and I probably laid it on a bit thick. it's easy to get carried away in these things, especially towards someone that I am admittedly not a huge fan of.

that is the extent to which it could be considered "personal" for me, but I understand if you don't believe that or if that still had too much of an impact on taking the rest of what I said seriously. that is your choice and I respect it, it's just very difficult for me to separate out their involvement given what I know outside of this.

You're just completely undercutting that value by surrounding it with so much pointless nitpicking and snideness. What happened to "#but actually my intention is to be thoughtful and not mean"? You claim to be acting in the interest and defense of the community, but as the creator of a small podcast that nets me absolutely zero profit, I'm not feeling it. This feels like it's about you, not the rest of us.

this is absolutely fair.

I am just one person at the end of the day. I've talked to others, discussed the situation surrounding this campaign and others like it with them, but I am the one typing it down and inserting my voice and my take on it.

as such, I am not going to be a perfect mouthpiece for everyone's thoughts about this stuff.

I WANT to be one that is largely beneficial, however.

sometimes I lean a bit heavy into the snideness for the sake of keeping things interesting; these write-ups are LONG and as a writer I recognize you have to do something to keep people engaged so they actually absorb what you are saying.

is that the right approach? probably not for everyone, but it is part of a reflection of my own voice that it comes out like this.

"#but actually my intention is to be thoughtful and not mean" is something I wrote, something that I still want to keep in mind but sometimes I fail at that. in this case, I found it hard to stick to.

repeatedly seeing campaigns like this is disheartening to me, it wears me out. there is an amount of what a lot of people might see as "bitterness", but it's not really about any specific project or person.

I think my massive fucking rant at the end of that post about capitalism ruining audio dramas with the need to make money unsustainably says a lot about how I feel about the current financial state of the world. a lot of that "bitterness" is from this deep rage towards to the system, directed outwards where it can be. maybe the flow of it was a bit strong on this one, but it is still an accurate reflection of the way that I see things.

note, an accurate reflection to ME. it's okay if it isn't accurate to you, that's part of why the conversations need to happen.

part of why I do the math breakdowns for the budget is to help myself try and get a grasp on what those numbers mean. the human brain is not really formatted to understand large quantities of things, especially something that is usually intangible in those high amounts like money. I also do it because I want to give someone the opportunity to say "actually, you're wrong because this does add up. you are just missing part of the picture."

I know the way I approached this might come off as defensive, that's not my intention. I decided to break it down like this so that no one would think I'm trying to skip over feedback or ignore certain points that make me look bad.

everything that this person said to me is a valid response to what I wrote, including the things I pushed back on.

I am very grateful that they reached out to me, and I want to continue the conversation. ESPECIALLY if they feel that I did not hear them here.

my responses are just that. a response. they are not a claim of being right or these reactions being unjustified. we are all only in our own heads, and the conclusions we come to are usually based in rationality. my mind is open to being changed, I want to see as full a picture as possible.

if you disagree with what I've said, that is fine.

if you agree with what I've said, that is fine.

if you aren't sure, that is also fine.

we're talking about something complex and nuanced and just because I'm the one bringing these things up doesn't mean I have the RIGHT opinion or that I am the person who SHOULD be saying it.

there is a reason that I am anonymous here, and it's mostly because the conversation is more important than who is speaking.

as always, my inbox and Asks are open.

feedback welcome, I mean that.

#anonymous ad #crowdfund tips #shelterwood crowdfund #Stephen Indrisano #Tal Minear #among the stacks crowdfund #The Magnus Protocol crowdfund #“but actually my intention is to be thoughtful and not mean” is something I will do better to keep in mind #at the end of the day I do want this to make us a better community #sorry that capitalism ruins everything as per usual

[pbandjesse]

I'm working a wedding tonight and I'm already having so much fun. This is such a nice group. They're super fun and super funny. And they are absolutely willing to buy into being a little silly. Like I just found a couple of people wearing the gas station costumes and pretending to wash the car. Hilarious.

Honestly everyone I've interacted with today has been so good. I had a very long day at camp and I'm very tired right now. Like my eyes hurt but it was really good and I just feel like we accomplished so much.

I do wish I got to sleep a little bit longer. I slept an extra 15 minutes but I had to get up. That was not thrilled. But I got washed and dressed and I felt good and excited. Today was going to be a really nice day.

James sent me off to work with an egg salad sandwich. That I ate while driving because traffic was horrible. And I ended up getting to work at like 8:15. Still beat everyone else. I went to the girls latrine's first to drop off cleaning material. And then I texted Heather to check in because I needed a few things. Gloves and tape and stuff like that. But she had already texted me asking me to create sign up sheets. Can do.

I would stop at the art building first. Collected some stuff I wanted to bring home. Put some stuff in the building I needed to put away. And went back to the office to do my little tasks before the volunteers came.

It was a very busy day at camp though. With three different rentals. Which I didnt even think we did. But whatever. Everyone seemed really nice.

And it was a lot of fun. After I finished printing everything and checking in with Heather and getting some material from her car. I would go outside and see that a couple are volunteers were over at the office. So I collected them up and walked with them to the lodge. And oh no we had like 30 40 people there. And they were so nice.

There was some confusion because of the other groups. And I was standing outside kind of directing people who were parking inside and a guy comes up to me and he was like hey we're from BGE. Do you know where supposed to be here. I'm like yeah and he's like oh where is everyone I was like oh my god they're inside he was so relieved. I don't know what was going on but he seems so worried. And then everyone just did so good. We got everyone to sign up for different areas and we had a little safety talk and no one signed up for painting the latrine with me so instead I would join Joe's group at the pool.

I was not thrilled. Because I thought that I was just going to overheat and get sunburned but I did remember to put on sunscreen and bug spray and it ended up being really really fun.

I led my group over after stopping to take a group picture for them. I actually almost dropped a phone and caught it and it was very impressive. But I took multiple pictures on multiple phones and then we broke up into our groups and got over to the pool to meet Joe.

The plan was to have a few of them work on skimming. A few of them work on moving The plants. And then we would have another guy using a leaf blower to blow out all of the debris in the gutters. I was very surprised when we got to the pool to see how many tadpoles were in there. Thousands of that. They were everywhere. And I felt so bad because we had to skim out the leaves and they were coming with it and thankfully they were mostly on the edges so I tried my best to avoid them but there was no way. I'm sure so many of them died and I felt horrible about it. Like they were in the book it's with the leaves but those leaves were going to get dumped out into the yard and they're just going to dry out and I felt like a monster.

So after a while of me standing in the shallow end with the tiny pool skimmer while the guys had the deep end ones, I told Joe how the tadpoles were upsetting me and he said that he would get me a bucket so I could start trying to at least collect them. And so that's what I spent the next hour and a half doing.

I was standing in the water and walking back and forth on the stairs collecting as many tadpoles as I could. And I got a good amount. A couple hundred if not a couple thousand. They were just so small. But I did my best. And honestly I was having a good time being in the sun. I was surprised. It wasn't too hot out. The sun was bright but it wasn't oppressive. I was having nice conversation with the guys. And alexie was working hard too with that big skimmer and we were just making really good progress.

I had to stop collecting tadpoles when the water truck came. And I had a nice conversation with that guy because I was curious how much the water level would change. Cuz this was a huge truck. But it ended up only being like 2 in. He said he would come back about four times. And then it would fill the rest of the pool. Surprised me. Very neat.

Around 12:00 I realize that I could not collect anymore tadpoles. I was trying but I was only getting a few on each pass and my bucket was getting pretty full. So I told the guys I was going to walk it over to the pond. And all of them wanted to go see the pond so we carried the bucket ( we found that the bucket was actually cracked in the bottom so we put the bucket in another bucket but then that bucket had a hole in it. So we did our best not to lose any tadpoles ) and walked up to frog hollow.

And it was so pretty over there. I wish I had brought a net because I really would have liked to catch a frog to show the guys. But we did see a few frogs. One of the guys also said he saw a water snake but I don't know if I believe him. And we spent some time just flipping logs and rocks and looking for things but it was too dry out to really see any salamanders. So a bunch of worms but it was not a great creature day. Just tadpoles and frogs. To be fair of the real lot of those. We got to see other types of tadpoles as well. One of the guys had their two sons with them so I was glad we could show the kids something cool as well.

We spend some time just chilling by the frog pond but then I was like you know we should probably go back to the pool before I get in trouble. So we went back and checked in to see if there was anything else that we could do at the pool. But we were basically done everything that was going to get accomplished today. And so I walked them to the lodge for lunch.

Alexi would spend a little time telling them about rentals and a bunch of them were super excited about the idea of having birthday parties at the pool. And having corporate parties as well. But mostly the birthday party. And the woman who organized the whole event and me had a really lovely conversation. She told me that she came to camp when she was a child and in foster care and that when she was in foster care they weren't allowed to hug her. But when she came to camp she got those hugs that she needed and doing these volunteer days are like her giving a hug back. And that was just so sweet. Just made me want to cry. I'm so glad that camp is so important to her too.

They did not really order enough pizza I think. But everyone got a couple slices and I really enjoyed the pasta salad they got. And I was really just grateful that they shared with us. We hung out and talked and Alexi and Heather and Elizabeth would give some closing words and invitations to the music festival next weekend and just a lot of really nice stuff was said today. This was a really good group of volunteers and I really hope that you come back and become more involved. It was just really good.

Though. I waited for a little bit walking around the lodge seeing if anyone wanted to walk to the barn to see the horses but most people just wanted to go home. Couple people stayed to do the climbing tower with Sarah and Nick but most people left. And I didn't blame them. So I walked with Elizabeth and Heather to see the fire pit that got moved for the new wedding venue. And then I went to the office to get the gator so I could go and put things away.

But on my walkover Margaret called me. And she officially offered me the job. It's going to be pretty part-time for a while which is totally fine. But they're going to be paying me like double my rate. And I'm just very thrilled about that. So I'm really excited even though I'm a little nervous about having to be very decisive and be in charge. But I think Jesse's going to do a really good job telling me what I can and cannot do and giving me the tools to go into this new role and not just feels really awesome. So she's going to send me more official stuff and we'll see when everything moves forward.

I would go grab the gator and drove up to the barn to collect all of the tools that Heather had used and all of the materials I had left at the latrine this morning. I went to the salt mines and put them away and just kind of bopped around camp putting things backwards they belonged. While I was over at Joe's building I finally found the lamp that Alexi said I could have. He had put it in the scrap metal pile. So I collected that. I also found two broken trombones. So I took those as well. And went back to the office.

I would stay for a little while. Chatting and checking in about stuff but there wasn't much else for me to do and I was very tired from the sun. I decided that it would be really nice to go to Rita's before I went home. So I said goodbye to everyone and I left.

I went to the Rita's in Hunt Valley. I got a mango misto which was very good. I was having an honing for a second because last year I remembered I got a fruit mistow and it wasn't very good.. like it was really boring. And I couldn't remember if it was peach or mango. So I decided to go with mango and I was correct in my choice and it was great. The only thing that would have improved it would have been a pretzel but I did not want to stop at the Dutch market again because I wanted to go home and take a shower. I was covered in pool juices and dirt.

And I had to deal with some traffic. And I was not happy because I was so tired. And I was hoping that I could have a few minutes of just sitting down. But I would get home a little after 4:00 and everything would be okay. Even though I was pretty upset.

I had brought home one of the fake grass mats that I had in the art building and I thought I got all the dirt off of it but I apparently did a terrible job because the back of the car was covered in dust and then we picked it up I was covered in dust and then everything was covered in dust and it was horrible. I had to quickly run it into the house and to the backyard so I can throw it on the ground but then sweepy came out and I didn't know and I threw it and he came out and he was under it because I threw it on top of him and he was so upset and dirty. It was a mess.

So I let James know when they said that they would help vacuum when they got back. And I went to go take a shower.

In the shower helped. I also did my hair nice. Brushed it and put oils in it. And just wanted to feel pretty. I got changed and then I sat in front of my mirror to do my makeup and do my cuticles trying to make my fingers look pretty. I did break one of my nails pretty severely but it's fine. And then James was home. And they came and gave me a kiss and then they vacuumed and tried to make everything better again. I love them so much.

I'm pretty soon after that I have to go. I sat with them downstairs for a few minutes but they had a lot of chores to get done before they were recording and I had to go to work. So we said goodbye and I went to the museum.

And man was it a nice night. I had trouble finding Jesse at first but I walked around the museum chatting with the caterers that I knew and meeting the wedding planners and this couple was so nice. Their friends were excellent. Everyone I've talked to this evening was so good. I was out on the pier with Jesse for a bit though once I found him. And he has such funny nervous energy when it comes to issues. Like the department of national resources police were there and they were going to walk through the wedding and he was like oh my God we have to stop them. And then just random people coming off of the street to walk to the water and he was so worried about them being near the wedding and it was interesting to see the problems with I might have to deal with and thinking about different ways I might deal with them. But our security guard is great and took over a lot of the interacting with the public part so everything was okay and the wedding was beautiful. Like I was crying because it was so sweet. And it was just such a beautiful day for it. They really lucked out with weather. It was sunny and a little breezy but not cool and everyone was beautiful It was just so nice.

Before it was time to go inside for the guests I ran inside to make sure that the doors to the exhibits that were not open were actually locked. And I was very annoyed to find that they were a mess. Like whoever was the educator is today did not put away any of the materials and it looked terrible. And my tray that says please do not touch four events was out. Rude. That is not yours It says don't touch it. So it was a little pissed off about that but it was fine. I cleaned up a little and let James know and it was just annoying to come into that. But we move on.

And I have an excellent night. This was probably the most people I've ever had come up into the exhibit but people are so excited to see the machines get turned on or have great conversations with people and I was just having a blast. We did have one issue with caterers kept coming back with trays of drinks into the exhibit and they're not supposed to do that. And one of them dropped a tray and ice went everywhere. Thankfully it was an empty cup but still ice all over the ground was not ideal. And so I had to let Jesse know and that was embarrassing. But I handled it everything was okay. And I gave lots of really good talks and I had a lot of fun. My throat hurt a lot by the end and I drank all my water but that's all good.

I stayed a little bit later because I was enjoying talking with Jesse about different procedures and how to turn lights off and all those things and I also was telling him about this project. How I've been documenting for so long and how important it is to me. And he thought that was really cool and he was like I mentioned it I was like oh my God yes you are because I mentioned everybody. And then the caterers brought us dinner and he didn't know that I don't eat meat so he felt really bad that I only had mashed potatoes but I honestly wasn't hungry anyway and was only eating some to not be rude. Because my stomach hurts and I really just want to drink water and juice and not eat actual foodstuffs right now. I am trying my best to hold it together. Thankfully today I am not as nauseous and not as quick to run to throw up. So I think we're doing good.

But I just pulled up to the house and I am very excited to go to bed. I might take another shower even. And I hope about tomorrow is really good. Jess is going to come a little early and Callie's going to meet us at the house and then we're going to go to the flower Mart! I'm so excited I haven't gone to the flower bar in forever! Cuz we missed it last year we were on our honeymoon. So I'm really looking forward to that and then in the evening is our housewarming. And we have a couple friends coming over and James is going to make interesting food things and I'm really excited to just show people our little house.

I hope that you guys all have a great night and you take care of yourselves. I love you all. Good night.

[m-madeleine]

hi! for the end of the year asks: 1, 3, 9, 14, 22, 24?

Hiiii!

1. How many books did you read this year?

Officially 33, although counting is difficult because I interned in publishing this summer and read some books that weren't out at the time. I keep thinking of more books I finished half a year ago. There's one that's announced for February and I guess I'll be counting it for this year instead??

Then there were also a couple that I technically finished, but am not counting for my goodreads challenge for Reasons, like I was basically skimming because of fast review deadline...or found so artrociously horrible I don't even want it to stain my account lmao. And that last one, I did the final edit for, so I know how bad it was even after multiple professional editing rounds :P

3. What were your top five books of the year?

In no particular order

A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik (EL!!! El, the girl who was born to be evil and fights tooth and nail to stay good out of spite T-T) (Also I realized I operate nigh daily on the exact same level of vigilance as a kid in a school that will KILL YOU and that's....a lot)

The Old Ways by Robert Macfarlane (chill nonfiction about hiking and sailing mostly around Britain)

Shadow Girls by Carol Birch (girl's schools and ghostssss)

The Death of Bees by Lisa O'Donnell (two girls bury their own parents in their backgarden; macabre in the best ways, grim but full of love)

Dark Places by Gillian Flynn (essentially a fictional true crime case where you actually get the satisfaction of unpeeling all the layers through a round dance of POVs, left me Pondering for daysss)

Bonus: Along the Trenches by Navid Kermani (a travelogue that gets into the nitty gritty of the history and politics of Eastern Europe and the Caucasus) (I've only gotten halfway through, but I have to mention it NOW because it's amazing and Kermani has been cemented as my non-fiction crush)

9. Did you get into any new genres?

Not really! I def felt a taste for dark stuff this year though.

For the opposite of Getting Into, I had to read a lot of r0mance novels and new adult fiction for work, and mmmmmmm no. No shade, I did enjoy a couple, even though I'm not sure I would've finished them if I didn't have to. But they're just so formulaic T-T I need my books to have a kick.

14. What books do you want to finish before the year is over?

Worked hard on finishing In Männerkleidern by Angela Steidele. It's somewhere between an academic work and a conventional biography? The subject is a working class AFAB person in early 1700s Germany who lived sometimes as a woman and sometimes as a man, had a really interesting life, married a woman but eventually got busted and executed for "sodomy with a woman".

I think Steidele is pretty solid about dealing with the transman or lesbian or?? controversy potential, refers to the main character as whatever gender they were presenting as at the time and when discussing the possibility of interpretation at the end gives evidence for and against all possibilities fairly imo.

You're usually not gonna catch me reading history stuff outside uni, but this was a treat.

22. What’s the longest book you read?

Mansfield Park!

24. Did you DNF anything? Why?

Oh yea. For one, a lot of that was involuntary through work, often you'll only get a 50 page sample, sometimes the rest isn't even written yet.

One thing for work I DNFd more or less voluntarily was What Doesn't Kill Us by Ajay Close (sent in for translation licensing). I actually loved it and for the first and last time felt that famed editor "This is MY manuscript and I'm FIGHTING for it" feeling. Buuuuut it's very dark and visceral and I wasn't in a great headspace at the time, so I kind of just quiet quit on it during my last week. I did still write it a recommendation for as far as I got.

Outside of work, The First Day of Spring by Nancy Tucker. Only took me a couple pages to realize it was based on Mary Bell. I actually thought it was very well done, but it was tough to read just because of the subject and even flipping forward didn't help. I don't think I'll go back to it, I feel like I kind of know what it was doing and where it was going and I liked it, but don't need to experience it page by page.

#thank youuuu #i have a lot to say about books huh #lev reads #askbox meme #teddy-after-all

[erigold13261]

I WANNA HEAR ABOUT THE ARACHNIKIDS ALWAYS BEING WITH SAYU CREW AU THAT YOU JUST TALKED ABOUT (sorry if this sounds too demanding but I’m so intrigued!!!!)

lol, you're good! I was able to tell this was more intrigue than being demanding!

[Adding this after I wrote everything. This came out a LOT longer than I intended. I said I wasn't gonna get into the history or that this would become a fully fleshed out AU (I still don't think it is honestly) but I did write a lot more than I intended. I probably forgot some stuff or went off on tangents and didn't connect back, but your ask made me start thinking a lot so have fun reading all of this! Especially if you were really excited about this AU, I hope I did it justice lol]

I will say, this probably isn't going to be a super fleshed out AU (not like most of mine are half the time lol), so instead of some complicated backstory as to why the Arachnikids and Crew ended up as a group, it will be more simple (so I'm not going back into super past history during like the border war or something to justify the group forming). [[I say this and then I kinda go into a justification as to how this group came to be later on down the line lol]]

I also don't have exactly much for this AU at the moment. I did see your ask you sent about your ideas for the AU, I forgot what it was at this moment since I just skimmed it since I want to give a version I think would happen before possibly altering it with other people's ideas (plus I might want to doodle something with your ask if I get time). So I'll give what I think this AU would hold.

So firstly, I honestly don't think that ALL the Arachnikids would be in the group. Well I guess that depends on who you consider an Arachnikid actually. If you see Hobie as one, I don't see it really being in the group, same with Noir or Porker.

I do see Pav, Miles, and Gwen as definitely being in the group. By extension I can also Gaya since Pav would be in it. For Margo and Peni, it can a toss-up honestly where they could be or could not be.

This actually does call into question how Nueva York would be affected by this without Miles. Looks like Hobie, Noir, and Porker aren't getting out all that soon unless they complete the programs. But anyway, let's just ignore that can of worms for right now and just get onto the mermaid part lol.

Also, so I'm not constantly using Sayu Crew and Arachnikids, I'm just gonna say like the team so I don't have to keep using both titles.

Anyway! I think the team would still start with Tila and Remi interacting at first (Tila stealing Remi's art for one of her songs/covers then apologizing after realizing what she did). Then instead of bringing on Dodo and Sofa, it is Gaya and Pav who join next because of Remi and Pav's relation to Eve.

I can see Pav and Remi being friends after meeting as kids when Eve took Remi to see her side of the family at some point (Eve being so much older she was hanging out more with older members of the family while Remi gravitated to Pav and that age group of the family).

Once Remi and Tila kinda teamed up I can see Remi telling Pav this (either in person on a visit or online) in a very excited manner and then it turns into Pav and Gaya wanting to join in and have fun.

It's mainly just animatics and drawings with some voice acting, sometimes a short full animation would come out, but it got quite a few people interested online. That would be where I can see Gwen getting really into these mermaids online since they expressed a kind of teenage femininity that she wanted to be, which then led into Miles getting into these mermaids to try and have something to talk about with Gwen (and later becoming a pretty big fan himself).

Once the team so far saw how popular they were getting, Remi and Tila recruited Sofa and Dodo respectively since they were already friends and knew those two had skills that could help them out, which only helped the quality of their project to keep getting better.

Miles and Gwen being really big fans of the project probably made their usernames known to the team. Especially if Miles and Gwen made fanart and tried making some music , which made them really popular in this little fandom that started to be made online.

Overtime I honestly see Miles and Gwen virtually becoming part of the team (like how Pav and Gaya were mostly virtual compared to the Crew was still physically close to each other).

Miles and Remi would work as designers for the mermaids. Gwen would help make music (Miles would help with lyrics) but also became another voice for a third mermaid (before it was just 2 with Tila and Gaya. Before it used to be one with Gaya the talking voice and Tila the singing voice, but that changed as they got more popular, some fans still get confused why Sayu's voice changed lol).

Pav also helped out with inspiration and stuff, making cool looking realms, landscapes, designs and more with his powers (kinda looking like AI art from the early days, before it started becoming like photo realistic and junk like that) and having Gaya take pictures to send to the team to work on.

I can also see Pav doing cool stunts that Gaya would record and send in to the rest of the team. Things that Dodo just wouldn't be able to capture with mo-cap either because he lacked those skills, the environment wasn't right, or it went beyond what mo-cap could actually capture at the time.

All of this was going well and good, except that Sofa was basically doing all the editing and putting the whole project together by themself, and were starting to get very overworked since almost none of the others could really help them out in this area. I think Miles definitely would have started learning more editing skills to try and help Sofa out at this point (maybe Ganke taught him or Ganke might come in at this point, I don't know what Ganke's lore is and if he has a tech background).

However, what I see happening is the team kinda asking for help with their project, like if any of their fans would want to help them out in this area or knew someone who could be hired (these are still teens who aren't part of NSR yet, so it's not like they are completely rich or rolling in money).

But the team is in luck! One of their more recent fans is really good at tech stuff, especially things like 3D animation or rigging up avatars! This would be when Margo ends up joining the team. She and Sofa work on the editing and software of the mermaids, with maybe Remi and Miles helping with video editing at times.

Now, at this point, I would say that the mermaids (Sayu, Aoi, and Yua are definitely made at this point, or at least versions of them are) have been around for maybe like 2 years. I can see the team is still about a year away from actually being signed onto NSR. I do think it took the OG Sayu Crew a long time to get enough skill and recognition to be at the Megastar level we see them at (not to mention having to get hologram tech at some point because I doubt Sayu was on the screen when first performing at a Light Up audition).

So right now, the Sayu project, or Mermaid project (whatever it would be called because I doubt it would be called the Doki Doki Mermaid Club in this AU, as that was a spin-off game that was made after Sayu was NSR in my version of things), has Remi, Miles, Tila, Gaya, Gwen, Pav, Dodo, Sofa, and Margo.

The mermaids I'll just use the names I gave them, but honestly with this AU they might change drastically because of the added people in the creation process. Sayu is voiced by Tila, Aoi is voiced by Gaya, and Yua is voiced by Gwen. I can actually see Gwen at some point during the time working on the project probably came out socially to her friends as trans and so when Yua was being made a decision with the team was made to one day make her transition (which happens before joining NSR) so that Gwen could grow with the role as time goes on and she does more voice training. As of now though, Yua is probably like a merman or a mermaid but the backstory hasn't been fully revealed yet and so just has a slightly deeper voice (as Gwen at this point hasn't done any voice training at all).

Miles, Pav, and Remi are all working on visual art for the project. Gwen, Miles, Tila, and Remi are working on songs. Dodo, Pav, and Gwen are working on the motions/mo-cap. And Margo and Sofa (with some help from Miles and Remi at times) are working on the editing and software of the project.

All of this is well and good, but like I mentioned earlier, they are gonna have to figure out a way to get Sayu into the physical world in order to ever be able to try out for a Lights Up audition. In the OG version, I can see Eve actually helping Remi get connections, but in this AU I can actually see Peni being the person they go to.

I like the idea that Peni's family is very tech savvy (most of them probably are technomancers) so she would have the resources to help them. This is probably before she accidentally killed her father with her powers messing up his medical equipment at the hospital.

Honestly, I think it would be really nice if being a fan of the Sayu project could have helped her with her technomancy. Like I can see her making mini robot figurines and stuff because she was inspired by seeing the mermaids and thought their designs were cool and just naturally honed her work through a hyperfixation. So yeah! In this AU kits father is probably still alive! How cool is that! :D

Anyway, I can see Peni making some cool hologram or something of Sayu, something still pretty wonky and not perfect, and posting it online in the fandom/community space. Which absolutely catches the attention of the whole team as it was something so cool, done by someone so young (I see her as the youngest of the Arachnikids).

There would definitely be a line of communication that opened up about how cool kits work was and all that. Peni would be so happy to have been recognized for kits work and show kits parents happily! Something something, I don't really know how this part would happen, but I can see Peni joining the team.

Maybe her dad travels a lot and (considering I see him as a technomancer) probably has connections to robotic works in other areas (like Vandelay or J-1), which would allow Peni to go visit the main part of the team (the OG Sayu Crew) and talk about making an actual working, life-sized hologram of the mermaids.

Either that, or I can see Peni being able to visit Miles and Gwen (as they are closer than Pav and Gaya or the OG Crew), and there they make "live action" videos of the Mermaids. It would required a lot of editing and really good internet, but I can definitely see the team working together to make this video happen (it definitely would not be a livestream for a while as they sort out all the bugs or find a way to get everyone into one area).

Actually, this could be how Ganke gets roped into the situation! He could have been the videographer for any life action stunts as well as like a boom operator with his silencing powers. The team never had to worry about weather conditions thanks to Ganke's powers!

This skill would later help the team when they were working on shot compositions and stuff. Making sure all the mermaids were framed correctly at all times. This would be one less thing Margo and Sofa would have to focus on which allowed special effects (especially in livestreams) to become so much better since both editors could work at the same time without having to focus on 3 mermaids.

This new addition of a different media like this would really push the mermaids' popularity skywards. Especially considering people are now asking if they could meet these mermaids in person. Fans started comparing them to robot stars like 1010 or other robotic artists, which was just a huge boost in confidence for the team.

Honestly, I can even see a new mermaid being put into the mix. The only ones left are Haru and Renho, and I can kinda seeing Peni's voice and personality fitting Haru a lot. That kinda leaves Renho out of the mix, which I am sad about.

The only way I can really see all 5 being in the mix is if Margo ends up also being a voice actor (the team probably wanted to keep mostly feminine voices with an exception for Yua who would later get a more feminine voice as Gwen voice trained).

I can see Margo actually taking up a voice acting role, but that would shift the roles around a bit, but if Ganke is also on the team, as well as Margo and Peni learning how to use their powers more, this is definitely something that can happen!

So in this case, to have all 5 mermaids present before they ever end up at NSR (which I think would kinda be a goal at this point for the team, but they also just want to have an established group of mermaids) the roles would kinda look like this:

-Voices: Tila (Sayu), Gaya (Aoi), Gwen (Yua), Margo (Renho or Haru), and Peni (Haru or Renho).

-Mo-cap/movement: Dodo (Sayu), Pav (Aoi), and Gwen (Yua). Margo would learn to use her powers (astral projection) in a way to be more tech savvy thanks to Peni and would be able to control both Renho and Haru without actually having to do mo-cap (Peni can communicate with Margo through the computer, I can explain this more in another post if I remember lol).

-Live Editor: Sofa and Ganke mainly for live edits (Margo used to do this before being the main mover for Renho and Haru).

-Post Editor (not live): Sofa, Ganke, Margo, and Peni. Miles and Remi help with video editing.

-Hologram/robotic engineer: Peni. She is also the connector between the holograms and the mo-cappers. Without kit the mermaids literally cannot be holograms (this problem gets fixed after the team becomes Megastars as they have the money and resources to make a mechanical connector for IRL holograms to work).

-Animator/Artists: Remi, Miles, and Pav for the most part. 3D animations or anything with models is a group effort honestly but that would fall more into the post editors' hands (2D animation and comics are solely Remi and Miles job though, with Pav helping them get their ideas out physically with his powers)

-Music (lyrics): Tila, Gaya, and Miles are the main lyricists. I can see Dodo helping in this regard as well as Pav.

-Music (non-lyrics): Remi, Gwen, and Dodo. Miles is learning to make music. Sofa and Margo help with editing the music (Sofa more than Margo as they were brought up in a musical city and has more experience with EDM music than she does).

Uh, I think that's all the roles for now that I can think of. I tried to make it realistic in what they would do in terms of work load and skills they have/could have. Honestly looking at this, Tila and Gaya have the least work it seems lol. However, they are probably the ones making the bulk of the lyrics for the music and probably the dialogue/script for any animations (especially if the two get in character and end up making a lot of funny banter).

Anyway, once all of this was settled and all 5 mermaids were introduced, I can see the group trying to get a Lights Up audition. It definitely took some parents more convincing than others (like Gwen's and Miles) but with all the progress that the team has made, I can definitely see them having enough evidence for all their parents to let them go and try out for NSR.

I bet almost all the parents didn't believe they would actually be successful. Thinking that most likely these kids would be turned down and they would have to try again when they were older. So it came as a HUGE shock that the mermaids actually made it and were accepted with basically a fully acceptance from the standing Megastars at the time and from Tatiana.

Which basically meant that the team literally just skipped over a ton of work of having to prove themselves and work their way up to being Megastars. They were literally right at the cusp and a few months of work would grant them the title of Akusuka's charters!

That is to say, it would IF their parents actually let that happen. We know that the OG Crew's family does end up letting this happen (one way or another, I didn't even think about the Crew's emancipation from their families so that had to have happened at some point during all of this). But the other parent's might not be as willing to let their kids go off to a new country and be superstars.

Pav's family is definitely letting him go. He has family in the area and with Eve being a Megastar already, she could help him control his powers (which he is already really well in control of, I will try to talk a bit about the powers more at the end of this, I hope I remember).

Gaya's might be on the fence. On the one hand, this is something she put years into and it has shown she is very talented and could potentially become very rich, famous, and happy. On the other hand, she if still very young and they don't want her to go alone or to move the whole family (I can see her father willing to go with her, giving up his job where they live and trying to find another one if this is truly what Gaya wants, but the rest of their family might not approve).

Peni's family is probably not found of the idea in all honesty, but her parents would definitely be willing to move to Vinyl City if the dad could also get a contract specifically with J-1 or any other tech company in the area (which he would get and be willing to move Peni and the family there, plus they probably have better cybercare there than anything Vandelay could offer which is another plus).

Margo's family, depending on how you see them, would be either pushing her to go or trying to keep her there with them. She says in the movie her home life isn't great, and there is a lot of yelling (and probably neglect as she can just sit on her VR headset all the time in their minds), so she might just be able to promise to send money to them and they would allow her to leave.

Okay, so now Ganke, Miles, and Gwen's families. I do not see them at all being on bored with this decision. They all want what is best for their kids and this does not seem like it would be a good fit. Not with them all being so young and Vinyl City being so far away.

It also would cut in deeply to their education which I see all three of those families taking very seriously. Peni is probably gonna be homeschooled for a bit, Margo would take online classes, the Crew basically drop out, Gaya and Pav would enroll in a Vinyl City school probably. But Miles, Gwen, and Ganke are already in very good schools of their own (and Miles' family need a scholarship for that school I'm pretty sure), so even if the world runs on music, this change from a good schooling to just playing music probably doesn't seem like a good idea for their parents.

I can see Ganke's parents eventually giving in and letting Ganke go work for NSR as long as he get into a good school in Vinyl City and keeps his grades up (they would try to find a way to move to Vinyl City in the meantime as they can't fully uproot their lives right at that moment and this deal is a very limited time offer).

Miles' parents are probably extremely against the idea. Think this is not something that will be a forever career, or that it will become unstable (especially if the blackouts of Vinyl City are well known, which Miles would fight against and saying this could help the city and the world if they could produce enough power with their music). It would just be a very big back and forth but eventually they would see how much this truly means to Miles and let him go. I can see his mom going with him but his dad has to stay behind so he can try to transfer jobs or tie up loose ends.

Actually, depending on when this is, Aaron might still be alive (in this case, instead of meeting Gwen in a support group, they just met online in the mermaid fandom). So instead of Miles fighting alone in why he should be able to go to Vinyl City, Aaron would be there right with him and is the one to convince Jeff and Rio to let Miles go (Aaron probably went with Miles instead of the parents since it would have been hard for them to leave while Aaron could easily accompany Miles to a new life).

The main problem now is Gwen. Since Aaron is alive, Peter probably is too, at least in this AU (because I am now just realizing this, I don't know how to really put Peter into the story, so let's just say he was always helping support Gwen but couldn't really care about the mermaids themselves and so never got into helping with the project himself). Gwen is also still pre-transition and definitely not out to her dad. Or at least she wasn't before the auditions happened.

See, in my head, Gwen did get voice training thanks to the team helping her, but she never used her feminine voice around her dad at all. So when her dad heard her voice, he didn't even realize it was Gwen. Only after he looked up more about the mermaids (as I can see Gwen keeping a lot of this secret or super vague) did George realize Gwen was voicing the transgender mermaid with a very feminine voice. He looked through a lot of the old videos and could hear the voice transition over the years and kinda realized Gwen is probably trans and just never told him.

Instead of waiting for her to come home to talk, he called her up while she was still in Vinyl City or on the plane and tried to confront her. If she was on the plane, I can see her running away to Peter's once she landed and trying to hide from her father. There she would do her best to find a way back to Vinyl City, especially after she realized that she was the last one of the team that needed to get some kind of permission or give and okay. So she just has Ganke, Peter, and Miles help her get to Vinyl City without her dad knowing (probably using Remi and Pav's connection to Eve to do this).

If she was still in Vinyl City, she would have not gone back home and tried to stay with the Crew or with Eve if Remi explained what was happening and Eve offered her own place.

At this point in both options, there would definitely be some corruption and abuse of power on Eve's part to make sure that Gwen would be allowed to stay in Vinyl City and work against her father's wishes even though she is a minor. To Eve, this is helping Gwen get out of a potentially bad situation, but to George it feels like kidnapping or some horrible shit going down and he is losing his daughter. He'd do his best to get her back and would quit his job and move to Vinyl City to try and make things right.

Since he had time after his phone call with Gwen (they probably didn't talk on the phone about this) he never freaked out for a moment and said something to push Gwen away. No, instead this whole issue happened because Gwen was terrified of the potential that her dad would not like hearing she was trans. So instead of a reactive runaway scenario, it was a preemptive runaway scenario.

Anyway, that could probably be a small plot for the Revolution (imagine George and Kliff teaming up to try and take down NSR for their own reasons! ooooh!).

So yeah, once all of that had been squared away, the team is all set to work as the mermaids! They would spend the first few months getting used to everything as smaller Akusuka artists, and work their way up quickly to charters! From here it would be relatively the same as canon NSR for the most part except with 5 mermaids instead of just one of them (I'll think of fight mechanics later because I have to think of how the mermaids would be different now).

Oh! Right! I was gonna talk a tiny bit about Nueva York!

See, the whole thing with this AU hinges on the idea that the arachnikids do not get put into Nueva York really early. Pretty sure I said that Hobie was one of the longer instituted residents at 3 years at the time of the Power revolution.

So that would mean that... uh, pretty sure his one year mark at being at Nueva York that is when the Rock Revolution happened. And I see OG Sayu as having worked at NSR for like... 3 years I think it was?

That means 3 years of mermaid development, 2-3 years of NSR work, and then like 2 years of a timeskip before the Power Revolution (close to 3 kinda? sometimes, idk, still working on that for the OG NSpiR AU honestly lol).

At that time of the Power Revolution, Miles is about 14-15........ That would mean the mermaids were first developed when Miles was 6-7 years old by this logic... It would also mean that Remi was about 7-8 years old when he and Tila started the project....

Okay, so that doesn't work. At all. Specifically because I think that means Peni would have been 4 at the start of the project (and like 6 when kit joined the project). Which obviously doesn't work as joining a project like that is different from like being a prodigy and joining an organization with the help of your parents (looking at you Yinu).

I think I can fix this though. Maybe? I think if I just move the timeline over a bit, so that the mermaid team was brought on when they were older instead of younger (Also I think I'm gonna stick to the 2 years of work instead of 3 years because it messes things up later on I think). So like, instead of Remi being 14 and Miles being 13 at the time of the ROCK revolution (because 3 years of development and 2 years of work), instead I could change the order of the bosses and ages a bit because of timeline reasons.

So for me, I like the idea that the bosses in reverse order is how they got to NSR. That means that instead of Sayu being brought on before DJSS, instead DJSS was brought on BEFORE the team.... Wait no, because Nova had to have been fired from his professor job to get to NSR in the first place.

Okay! New plan! Nova get put in at the same time he originally was, BUT the mermaid team waited until they were super ready for NSR. Meaning that in this AU, there was an entirely different charter for Akusuka that would later be replaced by the team as they traveled up the ranks once they were actually brought on.

So, here's the idea I have. 5 years is the total time it takes from mermaid development until the Rock Revolution (I'm just ignoring the timeskip because I just needed it for ages at the moment and I'll be using 2 years of NSR work, not 3).

[This also means that the Revolution technically takes place later because I am moving the timeline up a little. Maybe something happened and B2J didn't get an audition for an extra year or two].

-At the beginning of development it is just Remi and Tila

-Quickly Pav and Gaya join

-Before the half year or 3/4 year mark Sofa and Dodo join

-At about the 1 year mark is when Gwen and Miles join

-1.5-2 year mark is when Margo joins (they start getting serious)

-At 2 or a bit after Peni joins along with Ganke quickly after

-Then a year of final development before joining NSR

-2 years of work and then it's revolution time!

I put this up here to kinda help me with ages. Since Peni is the youngest I am gonna work with her to help me figure out the ages. Peni is 14 when the timeskip happens, so that means she is 12 when the Rock Revolution happens, 10 when she joined NSR, and 9 when she joined the mermaid project.

I can see that as something happening, especially if Peni's parents are pretty lenient which I can see them as that (especially with someone like Yinu who is working at 9 in OG version lol, meaning she joined NSR even younger). So by the time of the revolution the approximate ages would be:

-Peni (14), Gwen (15), Miles (15), Ganke (15), Pav (15), Gaya (15), Remi (17), Margo (17), Tila (18), Sofa (18), and Dodo (19).

Because of these ages, I think this means that this AUs Rock Revolution happens 3 years after the OG Rock Revolution would happen. That is because Remi is 17 and I have him in my notes as 14 (I used to have him at 15 but for some reason I had to keep checking my notes because I kept saying 14 in my head, so I just changed it to 14 a bit ago since that is what my brain thought was better. So the rest of the Crew got bumped down at that time as well by one year).

Anyway, this means the ages of the other characters also ended up getting changed:

-Mayday (24), Zuke (30), DJSS (44), Yinu (12 going on 13), Mama (43), Neon J (60), 1010 (28), Eve (30), Tatiana (51), Kliff (48), and DK West (34).

Don't know what happened in that 3 year time span that made B2J not start a revolution, but something had happened to delay them.

Oh my fuck... I just realized I went on that whole rant of ages because I was supposed to talk about Nueva York but I went into NSR ages instead! Okay! Nueva York time!

The whole reason I was going to talk about ages was because at this point in the OG NSpidR AU, something would have happened to each of the Arachnikids during the mermaids development time that would have sent them away to Nueva York.

However! Because they had the mermaid project to occupy them and help them find creative solutions with their powers, they never had that outburst moment that got them sent to Nueva York. They learned how to use their powers through positive affirmation and community instead of through fear and repression.

The sucky thing about this is that some people get stuck in Nueva York. Hobie, Noir, Porker are all there without the help of Miles (or the rest of the Arachnikids) so there is very little chance that a Power Revolution will end up happening.

Well, actually, I guess since NSR doesn't get attacked as soon, Ex-Jay would actually have more time to look for Hobie since they aren't being contacted by NSR for at least another 3 years (so I think that would mean Hobie has been in Nueva York for 4-5 years at this point which would be enough for Ex-Jay to just try and get Hobie out themselves since it was put in there very unfairly).

Honestly, it would be cool in this AU that the revolutions were reversed! Like the Power Revolution happened since there was less resources put into Nueva York (since the Rock Revolution couldn't have been used as propaganda) and so that had elements of rock to it thanks to Hobie and Ex-Jay which would be a small inspiration for B2J once they got rejected by NSR during their auditions.

There was an abuse of power in Nueva York, and now there is an abuse in power in NSR. Which would actually tie in nicely with George and Gwen's story plot as this could be propaganda that helps push B2J to take down NSR. Especially if it came out that Eve helped Gwen get away from her father using her power and privilege, it would keep George around after the mermaid fight enough push B2J to get to Eve and then Tatiana (where Kliff's intentions become fully known to the group).

So yeah! I know I said I didn't have much to say, but uh... Well I lied lol! I apparently had a lot to say about this haha! Hope you liked reading my ramblings! :3

#nsrtalk #spidertalk #nspidr #eriau #eritalks #noart #asks #also something i noticed #love the fact so many people ask me about s/ayu and y/inu #it used to be mainly 1/010 a while ago #and it kinda surprised me when the shift happened lol #i wonder if there will ever be another shift #onto a different character or group at some point #because i ain't leaving this fandom for a while #so it's bound to happen lol #it's fun talking about other characters #especially since even now #even if i don't talk about it much #i still have 1/010 on the brain all the time #so taking a break and thinking of the other characters #or any other character #especially in detail like this #is pretty nice #makes my brain think #:3

[kitchenisking]

Its already the fifth night already!

The Night Is All We Have by Jenetica - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 8290, sterek)

“Okay, they can't hear us. I'm assuming this is about your text last night? You should know that what you do in your free time is your business, Stiles.”

Stiles' heart clenches. That's such a casual dismissal, like Stiles wouldn't kill to have Derek up in his business during his free time. It riles Stiles' blood, because Derek should try being a little fucking considerate, okay? “Yeah, well fuck you too, Derek. Not all of us are built like underwear models, so back the fuck off and leave me in my masturbatory peace.”

~*~*~

Or, the one in which Stiles buys himself a vibrator and Derek tries not to care.

Beg Harder by nooodisaster - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2660, sterek)

Stiles was a kinky fucker. Derek had known this fact for a while now, but today really reinforced that. Sure, they'd had some really rough sex before. And Stiles had brought up casually that he wanted to be tied up while they spooned a few times. They had even decided on a safe word - "Peter" - because, as Stiles so eloquently put, "nothing kills the mood faster than a sociopath with uneven abs."

But even with all that, it took Derek completely by surprise when Stiles had texted Derek the simple "My house. Tie me up. NOW."

the kind of stuff that only Prince would sing about by llassah - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3603, sterek)

This fic came about because of this discussion of kinkshaming (I say discussion. I mean glorious rainbow of Derek Hale being the saddest werewolf in the world.) in which it was decided that Derek would have the most innocuous kinks and the biggest feelings of shame about them. Cue Stiles, the most cheerfully adventurous college freshman ever to sleep with two sets of identical twins in a night.

Things get better. Actually, they don't. He just gets better at picking people who don't talk. He does just about enough to get himself off, makes sure they come too. He leaves before the morning, goes for a long run afterwards and doesn't end up topless in a fountain. Which is an improvement.

Epic by orphan_account - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3431, sterek)

Sex is supposed to be awesome, okay? So when Stiles' first time is a bit of a let down, he goes looking for answers. Guess what he finds?

rub my tummy by nicotinedaydream - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1854, sterek)

The only person who'd ever found about his kink, was Kate. It had been an accident, her hand skimming over his navel while they'd been having sex.

He’d come the second her hand had touched his stomach.

Make a Sentence by badwolfbadwolf - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2189, sterek)

Stiles never feels more like a wrung out slut than when Derek has him spread out and gasping for it, dripping wet and moaning into the pillows. The rough words roll over him, ghosting along the peaks and valleys of bone and sinew, lodging in the base of his skull and the tip of his uncomfortably hard and untouched cock.

"Fuck, Stiles. You're so tight. So wet. So desperate for me." 

   A nip of sharp teeth along Stiles’ jaw stings pleasantly.

  "You're mine, aren't you, baby? Tell me. Tell me you're my dirty little slut who spreads his legs any time I want."

Edges and Lines by blacktofade - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3630, sterek)

Derek likes Stiles in lingerie and makeup.

Home With You by SylvieW - (Rating: T, Words: 11527, sterek)

Stiles is sent to stay with the Hales so he can learn to control his spark and his impulses. Everyone treats him like a guest or a student. Except Derek.

The Boy and the Wolf by KaliopeShipsIt - (Rating: Mature, Words: 11508, sterek)

The wolf is a beast. An abomination. A demon sent from hell to devour his soul.

And still, Derek cannot stop thinking about him, his hands trailing down his body, going lower and lower, until they’re wrapped around his hardness.

It’s wrong. Forbidden. A sin against the lord and treason against his people. 

Derek can't get enough.

A Feral Werewolf Stiles/HumanDerek!Mpreg Dark!Fic Fairy Tale

All-Inclusive by elisera - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 6483, sterek)

Stiles came alone to New York, to study under Professor Saeed and to prove that he could make it on his own, and he has. He’s got friends here, and allies, but no one touches him quite with the casual ease of his own pack. Nevermind the way Derek does.

#stiles x derek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sterek #fanfic #fanfiction #kitcheniskingficrecs

[sekhisadventures]

Time for Tea

The Shadowlands, Revendreth, a Few Weeks After the Defeat of Sire Denathrius

Revendreth, the realm where the penitent were sent to be scourged of their sins. Sometimes figuratively, sometimes literally. A dreary gothic realm with dark buildings, darker groves, and even darker residents. The vampire-like Venthyr were the rulers of this domain and, until recently, had served under one of the eternals, first-created of the Shadowlands.

Sire Denathrius, a powerful and charismatic leader, had fallen to the combined might of the Alliance and Horde alongside the Ember Court rebels led by Prince Renethal. Sealed away within his own sentient blade Remoria and trapped by the Naaru in the Ember Ward, the sire’s fate seemed sealed.

For now however, we focus on one who has allied themselves with the Ember Court… or at least pretends to have done so.

Dissonantia, the Witch of Blackwald Forest, walked through the light-blasted grounds of the Ember Ward towards a specific cave, the worgen accompanied as always by her monstrous companion Az’arad the Wrathguard.

“Hmph… Anima… oi can sense th’ power in th’ bleedin’ stuff… but how th’ feck do I use it?” she grumbled. Anima was a potent resource, but she was not a denizen of the Shadowlands herself and she had no way of actually consuming it. She had seen the power it held though, a vital resource for any existence in this world, if Quzgup was right it could be the missing key to her true immortality that she had long sought.

Az’arad shrugged at his mistress’ words. Unlike the imp, he cared little for ritual and magic. Give him a foe and a weapon and he was happy. Anything else… well… it could at least be mildly amusing to watch perhaps.

Still, Dissonantia had heard of someone in the Ember Ward who may be able to help her… or at least, who she might be able to scare some answers out of.

She, Nelen, and Grimo had wound up throwing their lot in with the Venthyr when they arrived in the Shadowlands. Nelen had considered Maldraxxus, but their similarities to the Scourge turned the wizard off quite a bit. He had however been making friends with some of the more scholarly Venthyr and was learning much about the nature of death… he was considering penning a few tomes on the subject himself when this was all over and they returned to Azeroth.

Grimo had immediately fallen in with the dredgers, the sort of working underclass of Revendreth. He found them sympathetic to some degree, and had even been teaching them a few tricks for (ahem) ‘skimming a little bonus off where it won’t be missed.’ Really, he fit in rather well…

Dissonantia, as always, was the outsider. She rebuffed any invitations to Renethal’s courtly get-togethers and spent her time focused on her true task. Learning how to use Anima to restore her youth. Quzgup had been certain, and the imp was far smarter than he seemed…

As she padded along through the canyon she sniffed at the air, her sensitive worgen nose picking up something… strangely familiar.

She raised her eyebrow, following the scent closely. There were a few mad Venthyr here and there, the ones who had been in the Light for so long that it had warped them into near feral ghoul-like monsters… but they hung back. Dissonantia had been this way before, and even the more insane ones knew to avoid the wolf-like horned woman and her giant companion. They were mad, not suicidal.

She came to a half-crumbled archway, an outcropping of rock shielding it from the ever-burning Light in the region, then walked into the shade and rapped her knuckles on the doorframe. “Knock knock?” she smirked. May as well pretend to be polite until she got what she wanted.

Inside the room two dredgers were hard at work at a large cauldron, the room hanging with various herbs, plants, and other things. There was a table set up with a tattered white cloth on it, and sitting at one end was a Venthyr man with wide eyes and a bit of a too-cheerful smile.

“Ah! Hello! You must be one of those Maw Walkers I’ve heard so much about from dear Renethal!” he giggled, standing up and waving her in. “Welcome welcome, come in my dear! You’re just in time for tea!” he grinned toothily.

“Is I?” she asked, walking in with Az’arad behind her, “Well… oi suppose I could use a cuppa. Bit thirsty aye.” she nodded, “Whats in it?” she asked.

The man cocked his head, “Oh? You… really wish to know? Oh my! Most Maw Walkers just leave or ignore me when I offer them tea!” he gasped, looking positively delighted. “Finally! An outsider with culture and refinement! I was beginning to despair I tell you!” he squealed, clapping his hands, “Oh, but where are my manners? I haven’t even introduced myself oh dear oh dear how rude of me! Do forgive me please Maw Walker…” he pouted, then stood straight up and gave a surprisingly graceful bow.

“I am the Duke of the Ember Ward, Theotar! Delighted to meet you Miss…” he glanced up at her, raising an eyebrow.

Dissonantia rolled her eyes, the worgen deciding to play along as she took her robes and bobbed a curtsy back. “Dissonantia, sorceress of Azeroth ‘n powerful queen of magicks.” she grinned, straightening up. “Nice ta meet someone wot knows their manners too… usually gotta have me boy Azzy show ‘em how ta behave ‘round me.” she chuckled as Az’arad snorted, a smirk flickering across the demon’s face.

Theotar nodded, “Delightful… ah but you were asking about the tea! Well… it’s a special secret, but myself and my two companions Gubbins and Tubbins have devised a way to distill raw anima itself into a delicious liquid that can be used as a base for tea!” he giggled, gesturing to the table, “Infact, it should be ready any minute now… please, have a seat! It will be so nice to have someone to share a cup with!” he smiled.

Dissonantia snickered, then sat down at the table. ‘This'll be too bloody easy,’ she thought, ‘This loon is more cracked in the head than Az’arad’s last six victims put together…’

Theotar took a seat as the two dredgers carried over a large pot of tea and two mugs, then poured a glass for each of them, the mad duke taking his own cup with a smile, sniffing at the steam. “Ah, lovely… a mixture of bloodmoss with an infusion of batshade if I am not mistaken…” he sighed wistfully, taking a sip.

Dissonantia raised her eyebrow, sniffing it herself, then took a small sip. “Huh… not bad actually.” she admitted under her breath. She could taste something else too, a strange sort of… nostalgic taste. As if she was suddenly remembering something from very very long ago. A sort of strange déjà vu… she got that sometimes when she devoured a soul, glimpsing it’s memories, but this was less sudden. It was almost pleasant.

“Ah, I am glad you like it! Not many of the Maw Walkers do sadly… bunch of coffee drinkers.” he sniffed in annoyance. “Oh but you must have such stories and tea time is a lovely time to share! What sort of land is Azeroth? I’m afraid in my mortal life I wasn’t from that particular world…” he simpered.

Dissonantia shrugged, “Well, if yez really wanna know… lemme tell yez about a place called Gilneas…” she replied, taking another sip. She could feel something alright, but she couldn’t put her finger on what…

A few weeks later…

Dissonantia had wound up meeting Theotar regularly for tea, the warlock wanting to be sure before she did anything risky. Theotar was apparently known to Prince Renethal, and she had to be sure she had either the means to make him silent or a way to hide the body should she decide to take what he knew of this anima distillation technique.

She had told him stories of Azeroth, though most of what she told him was either entirely made up or heavily embellished. She had outright lied about how she and Az’arad had met, the demon actually having a difficult time keeping a straight face when she spun a tale of him rescuing her from a fanatical knight and evil shapeshifting monster who wanted to force her to give up her magical ways. She had laughed herself sick afterwards imagining the faces of Dareley and Shalandrae should they ever hear the tale themselves.

This particular morning she awoke in her private quarters in the Ember Court’s headquarters… and found she felt a bit… odd.

She stood up and stretched, then blinked and paused. “… wait…” she muttered, stretching again. Even in her worgen form she’d often wake up stiff as a board from the infirmaries of old age… but, no popping, no creaking, not even a tightness in her back.

She felt over her body through the long black nightdress she wore… then walked to a large polished mirror in the corner and looked at herself. Black fur, eyes like glowing red spotlights, curling horns… same face she’d been seeing for ages now.

She frowned, then walked to the door and checked to be sure it was firmly locked before walking back to the mirror. “Roight… lessee wots under th’ fur coat then…” she frowned. She hated changing back into a human. She only ever did it in private and every time all the aches and pains of advanced age hit her all at once. Her spine twisted like the last banana at the grocer’s, her hands curled into Arthritis-ravaged claws, and her teeth ached while her cataracts seemed to grow back spontaneously.

She shivered all over as she willed the change, closing her eyes… then hesitated. “… wots this… it dun hurt?” she muttered, then after a moment peeked open one eye and peered into the mirror.

A young woman with long crimson hair and deep hazel eyes peeked back at her.

Dissonantia almost fell flat on her rear as she saw this, the witch catching herself on the dresser as she looked down at herself, examining her hands, then feeling over her face. “No wrinkles… no liver spots…” she gasped, then ducked to the mirror and looked closely at her head. “… not even a bleedin’ grey hair…” she said as she straightened up, eyes wide as she looked at herself. “… bloody feckin’ fel… anima actually did it!” she cackled, grinning widely as a mouth full of shiny pearlescent white teeth grinned back. “Quzgup was right! It worked! It bleedin' worked! I…” she hesitated, looking down at herself.

“… but this is th’ same as souls… I need to have anima to stay like this else I’ll turn back inta that ol’ crone…” she frowned, thinking. “Hmph…” she grumbled, looking at her reflection. Her human form looked totally different from her worgen self. Even her demonic horns were gone, vanished into her skull as if they never were.

“Hmm… Theotar keeps babblin’ on about it bein’ a ‘trade secret’ or some rubbish…” she growled, “Didn’t they say they had somefin’ ta keep each other in line in this place?” she thought, looking upwards thoughtfully, a grin spreading across her face. Yes, they did. She’d need to find it somehow, but she was a warlock, and she had her ways…

A couple weeks later…

Theotar sighed as he sipped his tea alone, the Venthyr man wondering where his new teatime friend had gotten to. “Those Maw Wakers do dangerous things… oh I hope nothing has happened to poor Dissonantia…” he pouted as Gubbins and Tubbins busied themselves with the next batch.

As he was thinking this however he heard a knock and sat up, then his face broke into a wide smile as he saw the worgen’s familiar form in the doorway.

“MY FRIEND!” he cried out in delight, “I had feared that one of those nasty impolite Mawsworn had gotten you! Oh it is so SO good to see you again! Gubbins! Tubbins! The tea! Quickly!”

“Eh, yeah… gonna stop yez right there Theotar…” she grinned, walking into the room with Az’arad in tow. “Ain’t here ta swap stories over a cuppa today. I’m here ta get th’ recipe as it were.” she nodded.

Theotar paused, looking back at her, “Oh? Oh Dissonantia I am so sad…” he sniffled, “But you know I can’t tell you… it is a special secret! Only Gubbins, Tubbins, and I know how to brew this tea. We can’t just give it out, even to a friend.” he pouted apologetically.

Dissonantia glanced at Az’arad, then back at him. “… well, if yez can’t give it to a friend…” she said, then her hand flew to her belt as she drew her dagger, the Wrathguard unsheathing his axe with a sneer. “Then yez gonna get it taken by a bleedin’ enemy!” she roared, “AZZY! KEEP TH’ DREDGERS BUSY!” she commanded as the demon charged, clearing the table in one leap and landing with a thunderous crash as Gubbins and Tubbins dove for cover in opposite directions with a cry of alarm.

Theotar’s jaw dropped, the Venthyr man stumbling backwards as he raised his hands infront of him. “M-my friend? What are you doing?! Have I offended you somehow?” he asked, confusion clear on his face. “I… I am sorry! Whatever it was please allow me to make amends! I do not want to lose my only teatime friend!” he begged.

Dissonantia stalked forward as she slit a hole in the air, a dozen imps clambering out of the portal to the Twisting Nether she’d cut as she reached into her pouch. “Friend? Boyo, yez got a lot ta learn ‘bout warlocks if yez think I was yer friend… yez just had somefin I wanted is all.” she sneered, her hand coming out of her bag as Theotar saw what she was holding, the Venthyr man letting out a shriek of horror.

In Dissonantia’s hand was a stone tablet about the size of a large book, and etched into it was a name and a list of misdeeds. Sinful acts in life that had consigned a soul to the dark realm of Revendreth… a sin stone.

Theotar quailed, backpedaling until he was against the wall, sweat beading on his forehead. “That stone… oh no no no… please Dissonantia! Not that! Anything but that!” he wailed.

The worgen grinned, “I wanna know how yez make anima inta tea. Talk… or else I start readin'…” she threatened as around her the imps cackled, grinning up at the Venthyr man.

“P-please… I can’t… please…” he whimpered, unable to take his eyes off the stone.

She tutted, “Not th’ feckin’ answer I wanted Theotar.” she smirked, then she held the stone up and began to read. First the true name of the sin stone’s owner, then their sins, one by one… slowly… drawing each one out.

Theotar cried out as he clutched at his ears, falling to his knees as tears ran down his cheeks. “NO! PLEASE DISSONANTIA! I DO NOT WANT TO REMEMBER! PLEASE STOP! IT HURTS! IT HUUUUUURTS!” he screamed, his body shaking all over as his sins in life were laid bare, each one like a lash across his mind and soul!

Dissonantia snorted, “Yez want me ta stop, yez know how ta get me ta do it…” she replied.

Theotar wailed, curling up on the ground in as he bawled, his mind wracked with agony and shame at the stone’s reading. “Please… w-we were friends… we shared tea and stories… w-why are you doing this?” he sobbed.

“Tell me how ta make drinkable anima… or I keep bloody readin’.” she snarled, holding the stone ready.

Theotar trembled, “But… m-my lands are in ruins… my subjects maddened by the Light… my tea… it is all I have left… please… please Dissonantia… do not… please…” he gasped out.

Dissonantia didn’t even flinch, she just held the stone ready, and continued. Theotar screamed out again, his body shaking all over as if he was having a fit as she kept going. Even the Accuser herself would allow a soul respite after such torment, but Dissonantia had no such compulsion. Truly, she relished the feeling of power this gave her over the Venthyr. She considered seeking out a few more, just to see what they would do to their owners…

After a few more sins however, Theotar could bear no more. “MERCY! MERCY! NO MORE! I-I WILL TELL YOU! PLEASE JUST STOP!” he cried out, curled into a ball on the ground before her, his face soaked with tears.

Dissonantia scowled, “Get talkin’.” she grunted.

Theotar sat up slowly, wiping his eyes with the flat of his hands like a child might, then looked to Gubbins and Tubbins who were cornered in the far end of the room by Az’arad. “G-gubbins! Give her… give her the book…” he whimpered, covering his face with his hands.

The dredger looked to Az’arad who grunted and jerked his head in the direction of Dissonantia. The diminutive creature scurried away and opened a trunk in the corner, digging through it until he came up with a handwritten journal bound in gorgon hide. He brought it over to Dissonantia, holding it out tentatively, and the second the warlock took it he ran next to Theotar.

Dissonantia opened it and looked through it. The book contained several recipes, techniques on anima channeling, and even plans for an unfinished tea engine… “Hmm, yeh I can use this…” she grinned. “Right, I got wut I wanted. Azzy! Wez leavin’.” she called back to her demon as he grunted and sheathed his axe, walking back to her as Tubbins collapsed in a heap.

She looked at Theotar as she held his sin stone close to her. “THIS stays with me boyo. Yez tell anyone wot happened here today ‘n I’ll read it from th’ top o’ th’ Ember Court’s battlements with a bleedin’ megaphone!” she growled in warning.

Theotar whimpered, looking up at her fearfully, and gave a small, resigned nod. The duke was totally beaten, and he knew it. No Venthyr could stand against one who had their sin stone. It was their weakness. The one thing that could harm them in a way they could not resist. It would be possible that Renethal and his allies could defeat her and reclaim it without her carrying out such a dire threat… but he couldn’t be sure, and he was terrified of the risk.

Dissonantia turned to leave, then smirked, “Fer wot it’s worth tho, yer tea was rather tasty.” she sneered, then the pair left the ruined building as Gubbins and Tubbins tried to comfort their master. Theotar sat on the floor with his face in his hands, crying softly as the memory of a lifetime of sin that had caused him to come to Revendreth was suddenly fresh and raw once more…

That Evening, at the Ember Court

Dissonantia sat in her quarters, the door locked so she could be back in her human form, as she looked over the plans for Theotar’s tea engine. “Hrmph… can’t make bleedin’ heads or tails o’ this.” she grumbled, “I’m a feckin’ witch, not an engineer… ‘n I sure as shite ain’t gonna ask Grimo ta build it.”

She frowned, snapping the book shut, “Nuffin for it then… gotta hire out. I’ll hafta put out th’ word to th’ Mo’arg or somefin…” she sighed, “Ah well, at least I can make small batches here… but if I wanna stockpile th’ bleedin’ stuff I’ll need that machine.” she smirked. “Still… this is exactly wot I needed… just gotta hope that loon keeps his bleedin’ mouth shut.”

Theotar, however, would never whisper a word of what happened until well after the Maw Walkers left the Shadowlands. Fear of the use of his sin stone keeping his silence. Few things scared one of the Venthyr more than the reveal of their past. While the lords and ladies of Revendreth put penitent souls to the lash and scoured away their sins for the hope of redemption, the sin stones were rock hard proof of the truth of things. At their core, they were all sinners and they had all done terrible things in their mortal lives.

Back in his hovel Theotar curled up on his bed under a threadbare blanket, then let out a small sob. Alone once more, the poor Mad Duke, with nobody to share the simple pleasure of a cup of tea.

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#adventures in azeroth #warcraft roleplay #warcraft fanfiction #world of warcraft #shadowlands

[kim-ruzek]

this is just my opinion but i think the upstead crazies might seem more in number and more of an issue bc the fandom in general is bigger to begin with. and truthfully your posts seem very victim complex to me about burzek fans, and lumping most of us together is insulting bc even though most of us hated this season, we don’t really bother with your fandom bc we don’t like Adam and kim

I don't really get what you mean about me seeming very victim complex but okay? Probably because I don't use as harsh language maybe? But that's just because that'll be bitchy, and I'm only bitchy back to those who are bitchy first. And because Burzek fans follow me and as much as ridiculous fans in all fandoms including burzek makes me roll my eyes I don't want to potentially isolate my fellow fans who might think they fall into that category. But I still don't pull my punches when criticising and hold them to the same standard I do other fans.

And I'm not lumping most of you together. I've literally repeatedly made a distinction because I want it to be known that I most definitely do not colour everyone with one brush. Because I'm not about that. (And trust me, it can be hard sometimes because sometimes my mind's instinct is to associate upstead fans to the few nasty fans who sent me racist shit because I remember it frequently whenever stuff like this is brought up but I know that was just a few rotten apples and that all of you, even most of the people I think is a tad delusional would chuck them out way before they spoil the barrel and so is unfair to hold their crimes against the majority).

You don't bother my fandom? Okay then you're not the stans I'm critiquing. It's simple as and if you read what I wrote you'd get that. Instead I can only assume, that if you do normally have comprehensive reading skills, that you just skimmed my posts, made this conclusion that I was lumping everyone together and sent this. Which in the future if you're going to send an ask like this, please use critical thinking and actually read everything that is said so that you have a comprehensive idea of what I said. And if you don't want to put that work in on a post written by someone who thinks there's a huge amount of hypocrites in your boring white piece of bread ship fandom then simply don't engage.

But if you do engage, please make sure you're informed.

And if this is on my criticism of upstead fans not liking this season let me make this clear once and for all: it is perfectly fine to not like a season, for whatever reason. I am not disputing that. My criticism was purely about the hypocritical nature of upstead stans -- again I'm using this to mean the crazies that have just exponentially grown since Jesse left-- but never did I assert that they had no right not to like the season.

I'm a big believer in critiquing things. I love doing so, even when during s8 and 9 I was told to get over it by your fellow fans and I truly believe looking at your show under a critical eye is a good and healthy thing (although I don't fault anyone who doesn't). But saying that, I also believe that if you are going to critisize something you can't just go half in, you have to go in all the way. Especially when making broad statements the fans I'm critising are.

And that you need to address your biases. Upstead is your ship and it doesn't matter if I find it baffling, they're your precious babies but if you're going to take a critical eye, you need to address how that may colour your opinion. I do this. I have had a jerk response to something, reexamined it and realised I was looking through the lens of my burzek coloured glasses. I've also reexamined things to make sure my dislike of fans or honest utter bafflement at how upstead fans see their ship as (like it is truly utterly baffling to me. I get it logically obviously but it's just so baffling to hear people describe it as the greatest love story) to make sure that wasn't colouring my views.

That's how your criticise things. And if you don't want to do that, then you can't criticise. And it is more baffling to me that people don't get that, or that people don't realise they don't want to become part of this modern fandom toxicity that unfortunately is getting more and more common.

#ree's asks #chicago pd #ree has thoughts #I'm begging y'all to develop comprehensive reading skills #and critical thinking skills

[coldflasher]

just sent my novel to my friend to read for feedback, hahaha this is fine

#actually i was skimming it before i sent it and like. there's still stuff to fix but like #it's actually a LOT better than i thought #like wait. this kind of fucks actually #except not literally cos i didnt give her the sex scene #it isnt finished in more ways than one and im not letting ANYONE see my unhinged half-formed smut #some things are best left unknown and unseen #now pray for me she doesnt tell me that i need to do huge rewrites cos i will jump off a CLIFF #i've spent too fucking long on this book #if i have to do many more developmental edits i'll set it on fire just to escape #i also somehow need to cut at least 20k to get it to a reasonable length for publication #which we all know is. not my strong point #especially considering there are still some scenes missing #helpppp lmao