#but it could also be a combination of that and like not knowing how to paint young children . snif

[that-ineffable-devil]

Long post incoming, but I've been on and off it for days so you're gonna see it.

On Charles and Love

I think there's a lot more to Charles' reaction to Edwin's confession than what we may first assume.

Charles loves harder than anyone, but I don't think he even knows what it means or feels like to be IN love--or to be loved back. This isn't a dig at Edwin, so don't @ me. This has to do with Charles' past.

When Edwin first confesses on the steps of Hell, Charles doesn't even hesitate with his response: "Great, love you too, can we go now?" He does love Edwin, one way or another. He hasn't needed to examine that love any further. He doesn't think Edwin could mean it that way, because Edwin probably has never given any indication of feeling that for anyone. Perhaps he didn't think Edwin capable of love in that way. Perhaps it's his own repressed sexuality. Perhaps it's the feeling that he is inherently unlovable. Perhaps it's a combination of things.

On Edwin's and Charles' Repression

Look, Edwin is clearly autistic and heavily emotionally repressed--he's British, from 1916, and male. That's the perfect storm of emotional repression. But he clearly feels and feels deeply--he just doesn't always let on about it. (Which is such a nice thing to see for autistic representation, the "unfeeling alien" trope ain't it.)

And even though they've been together for 30 years, they clearly do not talk about deep emotions much, because it makes Edwin uncomfortable and Charles probably wouldn't manage to get much out before cracking a joke instead--it's his defense mechanism.

As for his own repression, Charles grew up in the 80s as a biracial kid with an abusive father. He was also at least questionably queer while alive: he was part of an alt crowd, wore eyeliner, and wore a single dangly earring. Now that doesn't mean for certain he's queer or questioning, but it IS a pretty common code in media and storytelling. And I imagine no small part of his father's excuses for abusing Charles had to do with "beating the queer out of him." Of COURSE that led to repression--how could it not?

On Feeling Unlovable

And the feeling that he's inherently unlovable? Does he really feel that way? I think so.

He wants it. He wants to be loved so badly. And because of that, he tries so hard. He tries to stay light and happy and kind, even when he's suffering underneath--he has his own flavor of emotional repression. Because if he can't be loved, he can at least be liked.

And he doesn't just want people to like him, he needs them to like him, because he needs to know he's likable. Because there's safety in being likable. There's safety in being funny and friendly and "a good sort of chap." It's proof he's not the monster his father was--the monsters his friends were. It's his shield. The shield he uses to protect himself from the world, yes, but also to protect the world from him. Or at least, who he thinks he is, deep down.

It's also, in his mind, his only chance at being loved. His only chance at staying loved. Because love is earned. Because love is the reward for good behavior. At least, that's how it was as a kid, right? And that's all he knows. He died before he could experience any other kind of love--besides the love between himself and Edwin, which is its own complicated matter.

The other difficult aspect of growing up in a household where love and affection were weaponized and where violence is an acceptable reaction to anger, is how it radically alters your perception of love and family.

You crave the love and validation you never received, but you also fear it and don't believe it's real when it comes without strings.

You struggle to identify love in healthy relationships because if it doesn't hurt, then is it really love?

And even though you crave it more than anything, you're afraid of it. You're afraid for things to get real, because real love--or your understanding of it--is dangerous.

Because love is a weapon and you can't bear for anyone to use it against you again.

Hurt People Hurt People...Sometimes

Trauma manifests differently in each person. There are some commonalities, but it's never exactly the same. I know the saying is "hurt people hurt people" and that's not entirely wrong. But sometimes, hurt people heal people--or at least try to. Charles is in the second group.

Charles never, ever wants anyone to feel the kind of love he knew while he was alive. So he paradoxically loves openly while remaining guarded. His loyalty and devotion are unmatched. He went to Hell for Edwin. But he also never told Edwin the truth about his father until essentially forced to. Because that involves vulnerability. It involves, in his eyes, weakness. And what did vulnerability and "weakness" get him in life? Well...dead.

But he craves reciprocation. He needs to feel like he can be vulnerable, safely. I don't think that Edwin has done anything to make him feel unsafe, but being that they're both emotionally surpressed boys killed by other boys for perceived weaknesses at 16 and the lack of a ghost therapist...it's not all that surprising they haven't dealt with their issues in 30 years.

I think this is why he latches onto Crystal so quickly and easily. Firstly, she's alive: he can at least pretend to ignore his own death for a bit. Secondly, she's his age (sort of) and can see him, which is an uncommon experience at best. Thirdly, again--she's alive, so it can never last--never be real. Either she'll age beyond him, or she'll die and likely be taken to her afterlife. Which he'll happily ignore for the first two reasons.

On Types of Love

I won't get too into this, because I'm in no way an expert in the wide variety of emotions attributed to love. But I will say this: Charles died at 16.

If we set aside the possibility of him being aromantic for now (which he absolutely could be), he may never have had the chance to fall in love while he was alive. If he could even recognize it for what it was. I mean, I'm in my 30s, been married and divorced twice, and I'm still not sure I've ever been in love. At 16, you're drowning in hormones and it can be hard to decipher feelings.

On Arrested Development

If you think about it, his death and subsequent ghostly afterlife are a supernatural version of the arrested development a lot of child abuse survivors experience. But his development arrested literally--he literally CAN'T grow up. At least, not physically.

He may have had 30 years to address his issues, but why would he have thought to? He doesn't have the same responsibilities or needs as a living adult. He's constantly on the job or on the run from Death, he's living with Emotional Repression the Person (my beloved), and frankly...it hurts to examine those problems. How many adults are actively avoiding their own issues?

On the Confession

Edwin, with the most heartwrenching tone of voice since David "I would like to spend" Tennant, makes clear that he's IN love with Charles. And for a moment Charles looks like he's been walloped in the gut with an iron bar, trying to process. But then the trauma-brain kicks in.

He finds the first "logical" explanation to someone (Edwin) telling him they love him: it's a literary reference, and Edwin is...maybe not "messing" with him, but maybe being extra dramatic about this? It can't be real.

But then Edwin gets upset--he's serious about this. And Charles sort of...short-circuits. He can't process this right now, not when they're running for their afterlives. Not when the Night Mother is waiting to split them up. Not when he's barely even begun to process his trauma. So he does everything he can to make sure Edwin knows that, no matter what, he loves him. Maybe not in the same way, but with the same depth.

Because they'll have time. They'll have all the time in the world to figure out what this means. Because they certainly don't right now, and everything Edwin is saying flies directly in the face of every opinion Charles has ever held about himself.

And what the hell is he supposed to do with that?

#charles rowland #edwin payne #dead boy detectives #paynland #payneland #cw: abuse mention #cw: trauma mention

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Quick world lore question; does the game ever specify what kind of potions/poisons exist in twst? Like, since it's technically a fantasy world, would things like health/stamina potions like you'd see in rpg's exist? Or would it be closer to reality, like home remedies and basic pharmaceutical stuff?

I'm only an EN player and I havent read all the pomfiore student's vignette's so if they answer this there then im sorry for the bother ; ;

Potions aren't talked about in the only Pomefiore students' vignettes! (In fact, if we're talking just strictly Labwear vignettes... Vil and Rook's don't really focus on potions at all; only Epel's sort of does.) There isn't actually a ton of lore about potions, and in the times when they do become relevant, the writing tends to focus more on the ingredients and/or the preparation process rather than what kind of potion would be produced. For example, the entire Labwear series of vignettes frequently brings up rare or dangerous plants that require the application of magic in order to safely harvest, such as the mandrake and the lantern blossom.

I wasn't able to check all vignettes (since that would be like... what, probably a few hundred at this point? If not that, then at least over 100.), but there's definitely mentions of potions with various effects. From all lab vignettes alone and combing through the main story, here's what I could glean:

transformation/transmutation potions (prologue, book 2, Beans Day, book 6, etc; this is probably the most often mentioned type of potion)

voice-changing potions (Leona Labwear vignette)

color-changing potions (Epel Labwear voice line)

plant growth potions (Epel Labwear voice line)

sleeping potions (Silver Labwear vignette)

awakening potions (Silver Labwear vignette)

magic enhancing potions (book 2)

a potion that changes one part of your body to that of an animal's (book 3)

On the subject of poisons, no specific kinds are mentioned as far as I'm aware. There's a Poison Refining class (Cater Labwear vignettes), but we don't really get specifics. When poisons are talked about, it's usually in reference to the Fairest Queen or the Pomefiore dorm leader being skilled in making potent poisons, or it's Kalim talking about the many attempts on his life and unnamed poison antidotes. There may be more mentioned in other places, but at this time I don't have the capacity to check every single event and vignette. If you know of any more that aren’t listed here, please let me know and I can update the list!!

It should also be noted that "potions" can also be used for other purposes. This includes creating special effects for movies (mentioned in Vil's Labwear vignettes) and enhancing the effects of skincare (book 6, Azul Ceremonial Robes, etc.).

You'll notice that the effects of these potions can also be achieved via regular spellcasting. (In fact, we see Adeuce practicing color changing magic in Floyd's Labwear vignettes + Vil using color changing magic to help himself hide from paparazzi, etc., Jack's/Malleus's/Azul's UMs also allow them to do things without the help of potions.) Because of this, I believe that potions are meant to be an alternative way of spellcasting without actually needing to use magic. This makes already prepared potions usable by mages who don't want to expend energy/build blot as well as by NON-MAGES.

Within the world of TWST, there is an occupation known as the “medical mage”, who appear to combine magic and medicine into their practice. Furthermore, what is called “Potionology” in EN is written as 魔法薬学 (literally, "magic pharmaceuticals") in JP, implying that there is, in fact, an intersection between magic and medicine. This is similar to how "technomancy" is described to be the cross between magic and technology.

In terms of a "healing potion", there are instances which show that a magic potion may heal or at least speed up the body's natural healing process. For example, in 7-68 of the main story, Baur gives Lilia something to drink to help him with the dire blow he just took. It doesn't appear to restore him to full health though, as Lilia states he still needs rest afterward. In EN, they use the term "potion" but in JP they use "薬" (kusuri), which is "medicine". Baur qualifies the character with "魔法" (maho), which is "magic", so the term he's using is "magic medicine". This is probably the closest thing to a "healing" potion that we know of in the TWST lore.

So technically, yes, TWST has "healing potions". I wouldn’t say there is one blanket cure-all potion though; based on what we know of potionology and how it’s very similar to irl chemistry classes, we can assume that there are generalized “healing potions�� but that there must also be far more specialized and targeted ones, similar to medicine irl or non-enchanted or non-magic infused medicine. I would imagine that, like transformation potions, “healing potions” would have to be highly regulated since they’re basically a drug 💀 (There would probably be OTC types too, given proper governmental approval!)

#twst #twisted wonderland #Vil Schoenheit #Epel Felmier #Rook Hunt #Pomefiore #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #question #jp spoilers #book 2 spoilers #Ace Trappola #Deuce Spade #Jack Howl #Azul Ashengrotto #Malleus Draconia #twst theory #twst theories #twisted wonderland theories #twisted wonderland theory #twst resource #twisted wonderland resource #Evil Queen #Kalim Al-Asim #twst en #twisted wodnerland en #book 7 spoilers #Baur Zigvolt #Baal Zigvolt

[vidavalor]

Remembrance of Things Past

Aziraphale's scent-oriented, mindful moments in Good Omens also might be something else as well-- an attempt to circumvent the potential taking of his memories by Heaven. He might be trying to create for the future what are known as madeleine memories or involuntary memories-- the sudden rush of a memory prompted by a certain taste or, especially, by a particular scent.

On Aziraphale trying to get around Heaven by setting up triggers for The Proust Effect under the cut.

I wrote a post awhile back about how I think one of the reasons why Aziraphale keeps a journal is as a way of having something that Crowley can show to him in the event that Heaven takes his memories. While reading something doesn't necessarily trigger a memory itself-- it can but it's not guaranteed-- I think there might be other things they are doing as well that they think might be effective in different ways when it comes to helping Aziraphale retain his memory. The biggest might be actively trying to create for the future what are known as madeleine memories or involuntary memories.

Understanding of involuntary memory? It comes from the extremely Aziraphale intersection of food, the French, literature and psychology...

For anyone who does not already know about involuntary memory:

In 1913, French writer Marcel Proust published the first volume in his 'In Search of Lost Time' series and it contained a passage about the power of memory so descriptive and that resonated with so many that it got scientists to actually study and prove the validity of the connection between scent and memory about which he wrote. Proust had his narrator in the novel describe how, after dipping a lime madeleine into a pot of tea, the scent and taste of eating the madeleine brought him instantly back to a specific time in his youth when his aunt would serve them to him while he was recovering from illness as a boy. He remembered details about her house and their time together, sounds and scenes that had dimmed or been forgotten entirely... all triggered by his mind upon smelling and tasting the specific combination of flavors of the tea-dipped lime madeleine.

Most of us have probably experienced something like this and scientists have since confirmed that it's a very real phenomenon, probably rooted in our need to be able to recognize danger by scent. They have also found that, in some cases and to a slightly lesser degree, hearing specific pieces of music can also bring about a similar sense of memory. Scent, though, remains the best possible trigger for memory.

I can't imagine that after seeing Crowley struggle with his own memory for so long and knowing that it could happen to him, too, that Aziraphale wouldn't be trying everything he could think of to be prepared for the possibility that it might.

In a story that has so much focus on memory-- and in a way that seems to potentially foreshadow that Aziraphale might (temporarily) lose his before the story is over-- there also are scenes that might suggest that Aziraphale's mindful moments might also be an attempt at trying to associate moments with scent in an effort to get around Heaven and retain as much of his memory as he can in the future.

But that's only one part of it... The other part is how he and Crowley are shown to consistently tie times in the present to times in their past.

There are many reasons for doing so and we looked at some of them in other metas but another one might be as a way of trying to connect memories together in a way that, should Aziraphale lose his memories in the future, if one could be triggered with a madeleine memory, then other memories connected to it might follow.

In the first episode, Aziraphale's mindful, sensual eating experience involves breathing in the scent of the sushi with his eyes closed, as if committing it to memory. The evening, as we looked at in the Fish meta, was supposed to be a dinner with Crowley tied to their time in ancient Rome. Breathing in brine and alcohol and salt like Aziraphale is here might also be a way of trying to literally tie these scents to his memories of the scents of oysters and wine in Rome so as to not forget either.

In the parallel to the sushi scene in 1.01, Aziraphale is shown in S2 to breathe in Goldstone's when he and Crowley go there in the present. It's part of the mindful experience for him in the moment but it could also serve as a way of trying to remember the events of both the present and 1941 in the future.

Crowley also breathes in Goldstone's in the present in S2. It's something they both do without even looking at one another in the scene and just kind of know the other is, indicating that this is just a thing they do. Both of them do it instinctively, like the rampant sensualists using elements of mindfulness to work through trauma that they are lol. Aziraphale's eyes are again closed and I would bet that he's as much willing himself to never fully forget his human magic love and 1941 in the future as he is reliving memories of the past.

This scene is a really interesting inclusion because while it's set in our present of S2, it's really about the past and the future. No one has any trouble believing that they're both thinking of 1941 here, even as they're here in the present, and both of them are utilizing techniques both related to the present (mindfulness) to connect with memories of the past (Proust Effect/involuntary memory.) What else might be true as well is that they don't just do this for the past and the present moments but for potential future ones as well.

Then there's this...

There are two scenes-- one in each season-- that focus on Crowley's unsurprisingly amazing scent. While memory wouldn't be the only reason why Crowley would smell great lol, both scenes suggest that Crowley's scent is unique and distinguishable. Sandalphon can smell it as being different from Aziraphale's cologne in S1 and Shax... a paralleling character to Aziraphale, played by the actress who played the character with whom Aziraphale shared a brain in S1... well, Shax is into it. Girl's in a dead faint to a point of straight up huffing him.

While there are others, one reason for this scene, though, could be that it parallels the fact that Aziraphale actually does this sometimes, if in a decidedly less ick way than Shax did lol. Part of why Crowley's been wearing the same, apparently quite appealing, scent for awhile now could be out of an effort to help Aziraphale's mind create enough associations between Crowley's scent and Aziraphale's memories that Crowley himself might be able to trigger some of Aziraphale's memories just by his presence alone.

It's also then interesting-- and potentially a little eerie-- that the only time Aziraphale eats or drinks anything in the present in S2 is when he drinks a few sips of a cup of tea to introduce Muriel to the drink and the custom. This is just after Muriel showed up at the door and failed to recognize Aziraphale, even though he recognized them, in one of several scenes that suggest that Muriel had their memories taken from them at some point. The two characters parallel one another pretty strongly. The difference could well wind up becoming that Aziraphale is able to retain more of his memories because he and Crowley have been working for years to find ways to get around Heaven... and they're using knowledge uncovered by humans to save what they can of Aziraphale's memories.

Or, as Nina would put it:

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens theory #crowley x aziraphale

[moodymisty]

HI IF REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN WHEN IM SENDING THIS:

Did you know that multiple species of bats have been known to orally stimulate their partners before having sex? It apparently increases fertilization chances and overall quality of sex. Which I mean yeah it's foreplay, that's what it's meant to do, but it's interesting to note a nonhuman species doing it.

Anyway the point of this was to request if you could combine that fun bat habit with the ask about Konrad edging his partner?

Also feel free to store that Fun Bat Fact™️ for use in other Night Lord fics, if you want to. I'm always a sucker for astartes/Primarchs having behaviors/tendencies from some of the nonhuman DNA that was used to create them.

Author's note: yum yum Konrad time

Relationships: Konrad/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Konrad in general, Oral (female receiving), Kind of breeding kink

“Konrad, Konrad please…”

Your hand weakly tries to pull at the one holding you down, his palm pressing you hard into the bed. But he's so far beyond stronger than you, that it's a fruitless gesture.

You don’t know how long it’s been. It could only have been ten minutes for all you know, but it feels like it’s been hours. Your body cries out in an overstimulated, aching mess- legs quivering as they lay over his shoulders.

Your thighs ache in pain from the bites lining them, some just dents and others bleeding. You know you’ll need something for them, and you can only hope the medicae with let you get away with being vague and turning the other way about giving you things has they were last time. They'll watch you hobble away knowing that Konrad even at his most gentle is nearly breaking you, but they won't say anymore than the medicines you need to heal those wounds.

“Konrad!”

His tongue brushes over your abused, sore clit for the millionth time and the ensuing rush of sensation as your body writhing, only what isn’t held down by him. Your cunt throbs and aches with an emptiness he has no intention on filling right now as you suffer and cry underneath him.

You want him to stop; You're sweating, tired and aching, but there's no chance you can free yourself from him. You can only writhe underneath his hold as his mouth presses against your cunt, tongue lapping against your folds and teeth catching your skin. He's rough- and you've lost count of the times he's brought you just to the very edge of cumming against his face, only to slow and pull you back away from it. It's infuriating; It's made you angry, it's making tears roll down your face as you beg for him to stop it or just let you finally finish.

But this always happens roughly once a month. You have a feeling as to why, but you don’t know how it makes you feel.

In the heat of the moment you’d love nothing more than to give him a child, but then the oftentimes nightmare of your reality with him sets in. That his moments of quiet and softness are only a single star in a void of black nothingness.

But you know at this point he isn’t going to stop until it takes, and you don’t have much option than to go along for the ride. Konrad has his nails and teeth dug too deeply into you to allow escape at this point, and even if you did manage to free yourself, you don't know if you even could gather the will to leave him. You love him too much to do that, you know it.

The nails of his other hand dig into the skin of your thigh as he continues to lap at your folds roughly, feeling the way your body tenses underneath him. You can't really see him in the dark room, only the outline of his massive body. But you can feel him, the brushing of his hair against your skin and the way his tongue prods against your entrance before he pulls his mouth away.

"Konrad please, what do you want? Just let me-"

He watches you with those dark, black eyes of his, you just know he is, as he takes away that hint of relief you were so close to. Your heels hit his shoulders and he dares to laugh at you, as if your tears and your sweat and begging are nothing more than amusing to him.

You know they are; He enjoys watching you suffer when your body needs it the most, until your thighs are as slick as the tears on your cheeks. He doesn't want to physically break you, at least not yet, so he's found a safer, gentler way to torment you.

Konrad pulls away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s wearing no shirt, and the rough linen of his trousers are easy for him to pull down past the v of his hips and reveal his cock that has been hard and aching for hours.

Once he does, he grabs your hips and roughly tugs you closer to him, and he smiles at the squeal you make as you feel him press against your thigh.

“Come here my little dove, let’s see if it takes this time.”

#the fucking nightmare scenario of konrad being the one to knock you up like oh NO??? #but this isn't reality so <3 #konrad curze x reader #primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

[ittybittyremy]

imagine how dorian felt during that whole kerfuffle

Two days ago, his brother died and the Crown Keepers separated, all because of the Spider Queen.

A couple of hours ago, he and Orym reminisced about how Orym put a blade to his chest and told him not to put the crown on his head. Something that Dorian is clearly grateful for now. ("Otherwise, I wouldn't be here right now")

Now, he woke up to two of his friends fighting. Then, Laudna claims that the blade on Orym's back will corrupt him "just like it corrupted Otohan." He's still catching up on everything, but he knows that's the name of the person who killed Orym's husband and father. To put it simply, he just heard that Orym may become corrupt like his family's killer was because of a sword.

And here's the thing: He's seen a real cursed item before. He's felt the lure of one and has seen/experienced the consequences of holding onto one. His brother's death was one of those consequences 2 days ago! And now there's apparently another cursed item that's on his "very good friend's" back. The same "very good friend" who he just talked about the crown with. The same "very good friend" who put a blade to his chest so long ago.

Then later, it turns out that the item Laudna was so insistent on being cursed (to the point of injuring another party member [be it unintentional]) is actually not cursed.

Now he's listening to Laudna talk about how she wants to take the blade in energy while belittling Orym for taking it in hand. (Yes, I am aware that this is very simplified)

After all this, Dorian finally gives his opinion.

I think [Orym] should keep it. It's just a thing. I'm so tired of things having control over us. You two are friends. It was his to possess and you tried to steal it from him... It is just a thing. Its history doesn't shape us. Our actions do. [Laudna's] actions tell me that [she did] not have enough trust in [her] friends... What would it have mattered if [Otohon] cut him down with a handaxe or a stick from the street? It was not the thing that did the action. It was the person. It does not matter.

I believe that there are two routes to Dorian's mindset

Gilmore's Wisdom: When the Crown Keepers discuss the circlet with Gilmore, he says something very interesting. "The Spider Queen herself is dark, is evil, but the vestige is simply power, and it is whatever you make it into. Power simply is." (E1x03).

Orym's Threat: Orym confronted him when he saw that he could hold the circlet without issue. He put a sword to his chest and told him to put it down. Dorian did so, saying, "I care about you more than this" (E1x05).

Dorian's point is a combination of those two things. To put it simply, Dorian's point was that friends are more important than objects because objects are just things.

And before I see anyone else blabbering about how Dorian is a hypocrite because of how Cyrus died, Opal didn't kill him, and neither did the circlet itself. It was the Spider Queen that killed him.

During all this, he discovered that Orym, Fearne, Laudna, and Chetney had died due to the blade. He also discovered that Orym made a deal with Fearne's grandmother "to help [them] do the things that [they] have to do. Hopefully in the next episode, Dorian is able to fully process all that information

Side Note: In between those words, Dorian admits that he doesn't fully understand the situation ("You do not know what you speak." "I do not"). Apparently, this is a hot take, but I think that him being the outsider of the situation made him the most clear-headed of the group. He wasn't hurt by Ottahan like the rest of Bells Hells had been. So, he has the least biased view of the bunch (still biased but not as biased as the others).

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk!

#while i'm reading the transcript #i noticed that the party uses the term “cursed” in two way #laudna initially uses the term in the literal sense #she describes the sword as an evil presence that could corrupt orym #that is why the party initially wanted him to put the sword down #but the party also used cursed in the non-literal way #laudna and the rest of the party used the term cursed as in many bad things have been done using the sword #also mandatory reminder that dorian knows nothing about delilah #dorian storm #orym #orym of the air ashari #critical role #c3e95 #laudna #critical role spoilers #cr spoilers #cr meta #sorry for any grammar errors #you can tell i did ap english lmao

[kamaluhkhan]

GUILTY AS SIN?

GLUTTONY — part v of we'll write sins like tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis! reader (afab) word count: 3k summary: after a mission gone wrong, you unknowingly take the fall for a friend; you get drunk with the enemy; and you start to think that, if they’re going to crucify you anyway, you might as well indulge in a few fatal fantasies. warnings: set during the last olympian so spoilers for the entire pjo book series; luke + reader get drunk; mention of death + war + reader has some survivor's guilt; smut (unprotected p in v, oral f receiving, kinda sub!luke, brief allusion to knife kink — 18 + MDNI) + angst author's note: not sure how i feel ab this one but i've been workshopping it for weeks so i think her time has come !! also maybe got a bit too deep into book lore oops. also also ive been listening to this song an outrageous amount and i hope i did it justice ANYWAYS lmk what y'all think, thanks sm for reading ♥

♪ "guilty as sin?" by taylor swift

you’re well aware of how suspicious this looks, rendezvousing with the enemy at a sleazy dive bar in the heart of the city. 

he walks in, and your heart starts to beat faster in anticipation. his familiar deep brown eyes are now striking gold, and a streak of gray is woven through his signature dark curls — evidence of the battles you've fought, on opposite sides, and an ominous reminder of a war that has yet to be over. 

as he casually orders himself a drink and one for you, you keep a hand on your concealed dagger. it’s become an instinct of yours, whenever he’s around.

“i didn’t come here to fight.” he assures, catching the glint of your blade. 

“and what about…..” you gesture broadly at him. 

“we’re not entirely synched yet, so it gives him a break whenever i’m in full control,” he explains as though reciting from a textbook (something like how to betray your loved ones and overthrow the olympians 101). “it’s only me tonight. i swear on the river styx.”

a shiver passes through you.

about a year ago, luke tracked you down in new york. apparently, kronos was pushing him to do something extreme, and luke felt conflicted. 

you thought it had to be some sort of cruel joke, because you could not think of anything more extreme than what luke had already done in facilitating a war between gods and titans. you had no patience for his crocodile tears, not after he played you so well the first time. 

you told him as much, then told him to fuck off. 

to be fair, you didn’t know that would lead to him bathing in the river styx and becoming a vessel for the titan lord himself.

luke wears the curse of achilles well: all strong muscles and sharp angles, his tan skin glowing ever-so slightly, and his body devoid of any fresh cuts or bruises despite surviving an explosion just a few days prior. 

“so….what? you’re the pilot whenever kronos needs to take a really long nap?” 

“i’d say timeshare is the closest way to describe it.” 

“50/50 ownership?”

“more like 90/10.”

you scoff. “sounds like a scam.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up in amusement. it reminds you so much of old times, his boyish charm peeking through whenever a camper would try to pull a prank on him, and then complain when he’d beat them to the punch. 

“it’s just me,” he repeats, but you didn’t need any more confirmation.

you know deep in your gut, from that mischievous smirk alone: it’s not the lord of time, but luke castellan next to you.

the bar is surprisingly busy for a weeknight. there’s a game being shown on TV, and people wearing sports jerseys occasionally groan or cheer or come to the counter to order another pint for their table while keeping their eyes glued to the screen. the jukebox in the corner plays music from the 70s and 80s as a group of friends starts to dance, tipsy after a deadly combination of jello shots and sangria.

for the first few drinks, you and luke are silent, letting these sounds of regular human existence fill the space between you. you half-expect him to ask about law school admissions, or the new tattoo you got on your upper thigh, or your band’s latest show — all fragments of your own mundane mortal life used to distract yourself from demigod realities. 

he doesn’t, though. luke just stares at the hockey game, one you know for a fact he doesn’t care about because the rangers aren’t playing, as he sips his old-fashioned like he has all the time in the world. 

“did you wanna meet so we could just sit here in silence or….”

when you had agreed to this meeting, you had a clear goal in mind: find out who the spy is and clear your name.

it might be too much rum or the crushing weight of recent events, but you no longer have the energy nor the drive to be strategic or even cautious around luke. now, you’re looking for a cure to your bone deep boredom and heartache.

"no. i’m here because….” he falters and runs a hand through his hair. “look, i heard about what happened at camp. and, with beck —” 

“dying?” you finish, taking one last gulp of your drink. all the rage, resentment and grief you’ve been feeling has been lodged in your throat. you’d hope each sip of your dark and stormy would burn through it, but instead it comes tumbling from your lips. 

“honestly, beck would probably still be alive if you didn’t join the dark side. i guess you’re kinda leading the dark side now, aren’t you luke? what’s that like?” 

luke polishes off his drink, too, his cheeks flushed. he gestures at the bartender for a third round of drinks. or is it fourth? 

“don’t be a dick,” luke sighs once a replenished glass is placed in front of him. “i obviously never wanted to hurt you — any of you.”

if you were of sober mind, maybe you’d point out that it’s too late; that luke already hurt all of you the minute he decided to side with kronos.

“i know i did, though,” he adds after swallowing a mouthful of his drink. 

you know that if luke was of sober mind, he would never have admitted that. he seems to know better than to apologize though, hopefully recognizing that the damage has already been done. 

it’s not like your hands aren’t bloody, too. 

“it was supposed to be me, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “i was supposed to go with percy on the mission, but beck offered to go instead because he thought — he knew — that it would….it would be hard for me to see…. you.”

luke pauses and turns away from you. “you couldn’t have known what would happen.” his voice wavers, too. “beckendorf was looking out for you — it’s what he does. did.”

“i couldn’t even go to the funeral,” you continue. “i feel like i didn’t really get to say goodbye, you know?”

 “yeah,” luke hums sorrowfully. “mourning someone who fought for the gods isn’t really allowed where i am.”

again, you could point out the irony in what he’s saying. given everything he’s done, luke dug his own grave and clearly some for his friends, too. 

tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. the reality is that one of your best friends died because you couldn’t handle an encounter with your ex-boyfriend, the one you’re currently sitting beside. 

you might not have done what they accused you of, but you’re nowhere near innocent. who were you to give yourself permission to cry?

in the dim neon light, you notice a tear slide down luke’s cheek before he wipes it away just as fast.

he clears his throat. “to charles beckendorf: a hero by any other name.”

you tap your glass against luke’s, and you both drink in honor of your lost friend. you drink to everyone and everything you’ve lost, too. 

beckendorf is dead; chris has lost his mind; clarisse might start her own war with the apollo cabin over a flying chariot; and ever since the princess andromeda mission went terribly wrong, silena can’t go one minute without bursting into tears. 

it was too easy for everything to fall apart, as though this was always what the fates had in store for you — the next generation of greek tragedies. 

thankfully, there always comes a break in the tragedy, and it seems to be now: you and luke, getting drunk off whiskey and rum and old memories. 

you remember countless times sneaking out to the beach after curfew, mixing store-brand soda with cheap alcohol smuggled into camp by luke’s half-brothers; hot summer nights spent fantasizing about existence outside of camp and returning to your head counselor duties in the morning with chiron and mr. d none the wiser. once you started dating, it became routine for the two of you to wander away from the group for some privacy, somewhere far enough away so that no one could hear you scream luke’s name.

those memories still make your skin flush, even as you’re here drinking cocktails at a bar in the city, with one friend gone to elysium and everyone else calling you a traitor.

“i can’t believe you don’t remember that night! mr. d caught a few senior campers getting drunk in his office? they stole a super expensive bottle of wine, threw up all over the carpet, and had to spend the rest of the night cleaning it?” 

you continue shaking your head. you tip your glass back to capture the last drops of amber liquid before confessing:  

“what i remember is spending the whole night jealous of malcolm pace because he got to slow dance with you.”

luke lets out something between a scoff and a laugh, then he’s silent for a few moments.

“i love this song,” luke muses, words blurring together. “i haven’t heard it in a while.” he finishes his drink and sets the glass down, holding his hand out to you. 

your brain is a bit foggy from all the alcohol, so it takes you a few seconds to realize what he’s asking. 

“you wanna dance?”

“yeah,” he answers. “make up for lost time.”

it’s not until you feel luke’s chest pressed against yours, his hands firmly on your waist, that you register what song is currently playing.

“downtown lights” by the blue nile — luke had spent so long trying to find the right song for your first time together. 

you told him not to worry, teased him a bit for planning every detail so meticulously, but deep down, your heart swelled with how much he cared.

the empty hermes cabin during capture-the-flag, both of you pretending to be too injured from sparring practice to play. luke’s sweaty hands fumbling with the condom, you having to step in and rip the wrapper with your teeth. clothes being haphazardly thrown on so you could run back to the infirmary before anyone noticed. silent vows to do it again, and again, and again. 

the more time spent exploring and experimenting, the more you got the rhythm of each other’s bodies, knew how to make the other squirm and throw their head back in pleasure — and that didn’t just go away when luke joined kronos’ army. 

even when your loyalties were more clear, your consciousness was plagued with visions of you and luke together, ones that left your sheets burning, more than the blazing summer heat. you confided in silena about these once, and she assured you that there is no such thing as bad thoughts. 

she did warn you, though: it’s when you indulge in these fantasies that they risk becoming fatal.

now, thinking back and forth between memories with luke and the events of this past very shitty week, you realize that maybe that’s why you’re here.

despite everything you’ve done, you supposedly betrayed people you consistently fight beside, fight for; you were thrown out of a place you once considered home and told never to come back. 

you were doomed from the start — a daughter of nemesis, assumed to be wicked and revenge-seeking since birth. 

well, if they’re going to crucify you anyway…..

once the song ends, you ask:

“you wanna go outside for a smoke?”

your hands start playing with the curls at the base of luke’s neck, hinting at what you were hoping comes next.

luke licks his lips, gold eyes darker than before. 

“guess you’re itching to put that celestial bronze to good use,” he says lowly.

“only if you ask nicely,” you drawl. 

luke blushes. 

you pull away from him, start walking towards the back exit, and pray that he follows you. 

—

this is why meeting with you was dangerous: there’s no one else in the world – god, titan, or otherwise – luke castellan would get on his knees for, let alone in the filthy alley behind a bar.  

technically, kronos sent luke here to recruit you. 

the scythe charm — the one used to communicate with silena — sits heavy in his pocket. it’s part of the reason why you were exiled from camp, why your friends don’t look at you the same way. why you can’t ever go back home, not really. 

luke imagines you might resent those who threw you out of camp, but you would never betray them. he knew that you weren’t likely to join kronos’ army.

he’s thankful that, at the very least, you still have a penchant for breaking some rules. 

the two of you are a tangled mess of teeth and tongue. luke tastes the spiciness of ginger beer and rum, mixed with sweetness from the clove cigarette you just smoked. you lock one leg around luke’s hip, and the brief glimpse of your lacy black underwear has him throbbing. one of your hands slips underneath his shirt to trace the contours of his abdomen. luke’s breath hitches when your hand reaches down even further. 

“wait –” you pause your actions to let luke finish his sentence, and already he regrets voicing his hollow concern. “i….i probably should not be doing this.”

“me neither,” you concede, breathing steadily.“but, they already think i’m guilty.”  with your other hand, your thumb dances over his kiss-swollen lips and luke feels something ignite in the pit of his stomach. “maybe i am, with how much i think about you.”

luke knows what’s at stake for him, if anyone finds out, but in a booze-soaked haze and with you looking at him like that, he can’t seem to care. 

it’s coming back to him now: that endless cycle of waking up sticky and drenched in sweat over dreams of screaming your name and going about his day like it wasn’t a paradox to be leading kronos’ army and still wanting someone aligned with the enemy to devour him. 

when he agreed, however reluctantly, to be a vessel for kronos, luke had to lock those desires inside a vault deep inside his mind. 

this might very well be luke’s last chance to satisfy his cravings, once and for all. tonight, he’s in full control of his body and mind. 

he’ll happily yield his power to you. 

soon enough, your teeth gnaw on his top lip as luke messily thrusts into you, your underwear hastily pushed to the side. he tries to savor every part of this, of you — the heel of your combat boot digging into his back; the sting of your nails where you grip him; the familiar scent of your skin, sickly sweet cherries and burnt vanilla; the hoarseness of your voice, encouraging him to go faster, harder. following your orders, luke wraps both of your legs around his waist and digs his fingers further into your hips to keep them secure.

it’s a religious experience, watching you throw your head back against the brick wall as your orgasm crashes through you. luke follows a few seconds later, pulling out just in time to paint the inside of your thighs with his cum.

luke grins as he watches you come down from your high, eyes closed, chest heaving, neck engraved with the outline of his teeth.

“sorry, didn’t mean to give you a concussion.”

you open your eyes just to roll them at luke, who’s tucking himself back into his jeans.

“you’re such an asshole,” you jest through labored breaths, registering his shit-eating grin. you fix the hem of your leather skirt and pout dramatically. “and you had to leave a mess behind, didn’t you?”

without another word, luke kneels in front of you. 

he leans his head back to admire how your lips curl into a bemused smile at his antics. your fingers press into his pulse point, no doubt feeling how reckless his heartbeat becomes underneath you. once more, your thumb prods at his lips; this time luke grants access, the cold metal of your ring burning on his tongue. 

“is this how you pledged loyalty to your titan king?” you taunt. 

luke shakes his head, still sucking your digit. 

he did have to bow, but not like this. the only entity he’d worship this desperately is you. 

“i’m honored,” you coo. luke bites back a whimper when you remove your thumb from his mouth, instead tracing the scar on his face, up his cheekbone. “i have to say though: i miss your brown eyes, pretty boy.”

his whole body is on fire with how you touch him, but your passing observation feels like a knife to the gut. wanting to be good for you, to prove he’s still your pretty boy, luke pushes up the bottom of your skirt so it bunches around your waist. 

“luke!” you attempt to scold, concealing a moan when his teeth graze your clit through the damp fabric of your underwear. “someone might see.”

“it’ll be fine, baby,” he assures. “is this new?” luke is mesmerized by the fresh ink on your thigh, fingers trailing over swirling black lines. 

you hum, a goddess gazing down on her disciple. “do you like it?”

luke nods. he replaces his fingers with his tongue, journeying across your skin, tasting salty sweat mixed with his cum drying between your legs. he hears your whimpers for more. he complies and plunges two fingers beneath the lace until you reach your peak. luke places one last kiss to your core, before getting up again.

you crash your lips onto his, and you’re kissing him the way you did back when you really loved him, chaotic and feverish. your fingers snake through his curls, and you tug on them just enough to make luke’s head spin. 

you’re somehow more intoxicating than however many drinks he downed earlier.

he sees something simmering behind your eyes, when you ask if he wants to come back to your apartment. you both know you shouldn’t, but honestly — in the grand scheme of things, what’s one more sin?as the two of you are tangled beneath your bedsheets, you decide to frame it differently, as a mutual vow: maybe just one more time will satisfy this hunger.

#we've only got two sins left idk how this happened.... #thank y'all sm for reading!! #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #luke castellan series #luke castellan x nemesis!reader #pjo fanfic #saf writes

[loudclan-clangen]

Alright, now I'm curious, what are the rules of StarClan's Oneway Dunktank? Are there cats who can't touch it (mediators for sure but anyone else?) Do healers meet there every half moon? They can sacrifice a life to speak directly to StarClan but what about other times?

(Also you're not gonna believe this, I looked up effects of crude oil exposure and studies indicate it may cause Anemia and low white blood cell count, so maybe she got a bleeding disorder because she can't stay out of the Forbidden Jacuzzi).

VERY LONG, LOTS OF TEXT, SORRY I GOT EXCITED TO LORE DUMP

The rules/powers of the Black Water Pool and Starclan are intentionally very nebulous. 1. Because I think starclan is more effective as a mysterious force than a clearly designated entity, and 2. Because I would like to have some flexibility going forward in the comic regarding the powers/rules of starclan. Here's what's clearly defined:

Any cat can touch the oil, like physically speaking. They will not just drop dead unless something else is going on that is worsened by the experience. But something may be worsened by the oil, especially if they are deeply exposed to it, like swimming in it or ingesting it the way one might if they weren't specifically trained in how to interact with it safely (like a healer or a leader). This leads to rumors of cats being cursed with terrible visions (hallucinations), disease (coughs caused by respitory damage), or wounds (chemical burns from prolonged exposure) because they touch the Black Water without permission. These could be actual curses from starclan, or they could be biological reactions to the oil, but that doesn't really matter because the cats believe that they are curses. (If that makes sense). For this combination of reasons, (religious belief and biological evidence), cats with open wounds, bad coughs, or who are actively pregnant are absolutely not allowed to touch the oil and are encouraged not to be near it. (Excluding dried oil worn by healers, we've covered in an earlier post that that is a stable form that isn't going to pollute others). This is justified by the healers as being times when one does not want to tempt death, and that being near the pool brings one's spirit closer to the dead, which is good for communing with them or asking them for favors, but bad when you are fighting for/actively creating life.

All of the leaders and their leadership teams have meetings staggered throughout the moon. Leaders and deputies meet on a full-moon, healers meet on a half-moon, and mediators meet on a new moon. (Gatherings also happen on full moons, just later in the day/night. The clans meet the leaders at the gathering place.) Healers might meet at the Black Water Pool but they do not always. Specifically, the Freezingclan healers refuse to meet at the Black Water, so if they want all of the clans' healers to meet they have to pick another place, usually the gathering place for simplicity. Since the healers can only commune with Starclan by sacrificing a life, they don't do it on a monthly basis and not meeting at the Black Water isn't inconvenient for them.

The healers (and leaders) can only speak directly to Starclan by sacrificing a life period. One of my biggest issues with the actual books is that speaking to Starclan is so casual that they constantly have to justify the cats not being able to in order to maintain any form of mystery or miscommunication, or risk making beloved characters look like jerks for not telling the living cats something important/make the entirety of Starclan look less powerful by claiming that they just "didn't know". My very simple solution to this is to put a layer of separation between them. In order to talk to the dead you have to die. This means that characters will only do so if they feel it is VERY important and they are certain that Starclan will give them a helpful answer, which they will not always do. (Why doesn't Wildfirecry ask Starclan how to cure Rosehippaw? Because he knows that there is a very high likely hood that the answer is "you can't" and then he'll lose both his daughter and a life that he could have used to help his clan in a more effective way).

Circling back to how normal cats are meant to contact starclan if they aren't allowed to touch the Black Water Pool by themselves, we finally get to talk about Loudclan burials! (This idea has been rattling around in my brain since the bonus art for Moon 18!) Okay, so: When a cat dies, the ground on the mountain is too hard and shallow for them to really be effectively buried. Due to this, the body is placed into a shallow dip dug into the ground and then covered by a pile of heavy stones in a make-shift cairn. The cairn discourages larger scavengers, like foxes or ravens, who might carry pieces of the deceased away, but allows smaller scavengers like mice and insects to eat away the fleshy bits. After a few moons, (during which family and friends are encouraged to keep their distance and learn to live without the deceased) when the scavengers are finished and all that is left are clean bones, the body is exhumed and repositioned so that the skull is left exposed outside of the cairn that covers the rest of the body. This is meant to allow cats to speak directly to the spirit of specific dead clan mates, though there is, of course, no expectation that the spirit speak back. (This is what we see Fiercestripe do in the Moon 18 Bonus Art). All burials happen in a field of forget-me-nots (small, blue. five petal flowers) as they cover the scent of decay, and therefore the cairns/graves are often decorated with them, along with other flowers or plants that may have been special to the deceased. Less commonly, a family member may ask to take a piece of the deceased from the cairn, such as a small tail bone or claw that they will wear to "carry the deceased with them". This is only allowed if the cats are known to have a close relationship, and is very frowned upon if the requestor is not a close family member or lifelong mate.

The major exception to all of this "Starclan is nebulous and distant" stuff is when I draw ghosts (like Bluepaw talking to Owlstar, which, admittedly, I drew before I had a good grasp of what I wanted to do with spirits and starclan). I know that it sort of negates that distance but... I just think it's fun. I think it's more fun to see what the spirits have to say (on occassion) than strictly sticking to never seeing Starclan outside of the Black Water Pool. So for those instances just remember that you, as the audience are getting sort of a third person omniscient view. You can see the ghosts but the characters in the story cannot (unless it is stated that they can due to like ghost sight or something).

Of course, as I said at the beginning, I'm trying to remain flexible, and I'm sure I'm going to break all of these rules at some point, but if I do my job correctly, then moments when these rules break should be important, and not just because I'm disregarding or forgetting them.

On a completely different note: You're not gonna believe this but I actually did know that! I did a decent amount of research into the effects of oil exposure when i was thinking up the Black Water Pool and yeah! It absolutely has played a part in Eklutna's condition. She's had hemophilia since birth, (which very simply means that her blood doesn't clot very well (for all of you biology nerds out there yes i know that it is rare for a cis female to have full hemophilia but it is possible if both of her parents had it)), but that has 100% been worsened by her love of swimming in "the forbidden jacuzzi". As long as we are sharing fun facts: exposure to crude oil while pregnant, while not always, can occasionally cause birth defects like weak lungs!

#loudclanasks #loudclanlore #loudclan #thank you anon for sending the ask that allowed me to empty my skull onto this post #its greatly appreciated #technically anyone can speak to starclan by just yelling at the sky #its just not very effective #did any of this make sense? I just went into a fugue state for a bit and woke up and this was written #cw death #cw death mention #cw burial #cw decay #cw religious themes

[sabrinbrin]

To no one's surprise the theme park nerd whose favourite character is the little purple mascot has fallen in love with the video game about a theme park with a little purple mascot. In addition to watching playthroughs and secrets videos about Indigo Park I also rewatched the character introduction video and noticed a few things: (spoilers for chapter 1 below!)

In Mollie's intro, UniqueGeese says that she's "a loyal bird who would do anything to protect her friends." This may be why she's the first one to face us, but also why she waits to take us down until after we fend off Lloyd. (While we technically don't see her head on until after then, she does show up multiple times on the train ride, including very close behind us in Lloyd's section, and probably could have killed us sooner if she wanted.) We weren't seen as a threat until our critter cuff causes Lloyd to flee in the theatre, and from there she may have decided to target us to try and protect everyone.

In the cast intro video UniqueGeese also speaks about how Mollie's his favourite, which makes it surprising that she's the first to die and makes me think that we're not done with her quite yet (though he did say on a recent livestream that we wouldn't be seeing her for the next few chapters, so this is just my speculation).

In Lloyd's intro, it states that he "struts across the stage with an air of arrogance that could rival any monarch. He's friends with the main cast, but he's really starting to push it." I think this may be why Rambley doesn't like him, and I wouldn't be surprised if we learn that other members of the cast dislike him too.

For some reason, Finley's intro censors that he collects sea shells. While it's understandable that some info aside from his name and image would be censored to preserve some mystery prior to the game's release, it strikes me as odd because it seems like a small and innocuous detail when stated in chapter 1. As well, Salem, a character who we are shown a lot less of and is still shrouded in mystery, has no extra details censored from their intro.

Not lore related but Salem uses they/them pronouns! Just wanted to add it because I've seen people online asking about their gender.

Speaking of Salem, their intro says that they're "quick, cunning, but try to hide it with their 'punk' exterior." Being quick and cunning don't strike me as things to be hidden with a punk exterior, and while I may just be looking deeper where I shouldn't, this leads me to think that Salem may have a softer side we haven't seen yet. This combined with the later note that they "can use countless inventions to get out of a sticky situation" makes me think that they may actually help us later on, despite their actions in the arcade game showcasing them as a villain.

My only note for Rambley is that his intro states he can get "a bit too excited, [but he's] always there for his friends" which fits what we've seen so far. I think he's trustworthy and just happy to see someone back in the park, and that if he does turn on us it will be against his will (though this is my own speculation and not from the intro).

Not from the character intros, but in another video (specifically the one about the knockoff merch), UniqueGeese says that we receive an item from Rambley in chapter 1 that will be used a lot more later on in the game. I think it's safe to say that's the critter cuff (as it's the only item we get from Rambley directly), and I'm curious to see what more it can do – so far, we know it can get us into various areas, fend off attacking mascots with a specific frequency (from Lloyd's encounter), and will eventually be able to resuscitate us (possibly being a checkoff's gun to be used later).

#indigo park #indigo park spoilers #if I had a nickel for every light purple theme park mascot I loved with all my heart... #but yeah if anything happens to Rambley I will kill everyone in this room and then myself #and I love that from what we've seen he feels the same way about us

[harmonicakai]

Be Around Me

Part 1 of the "Love is Embarrassing" series

Pairing: Gyuvin x Reader, Ricky x Reader (one-sided), Haobin crumbs, Jiwoong x Reader teeny tiny crumbs 

Summary: Gyuvin is the type of guy to get flustered over everything, but little does he know that you secretly think it makes him even cuter.

Tropes: basketball star!gyuvin, journalist!reader, college AU, basketball!zb1, frat!zb1, secret admirer, fluff, slow burn, crack, unrequited love, mutual pining, gyuvin is a LOSER

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Ricky is annoying lol, mentions of masturbation and sex (mdni!!!)

A/N: y’all will have pry zb1 college basketball au from my cold dead hands!!!!!!!! also for once in my life, y/n is not super insecure we cheered!!

FIC INSPIRED SPOTIFY PLAYLIST <3

“It's obvious she's so out of reach And I'm finding it hard 'cause She makes me feel, makes me feel Like I try, like I try, like I'm trying too hard” —Try Hard, 5 Seconds of Summer

On the court, Kim Gyuvin is the star player of the Wakefield Roses. With his long limbs, he handles the ball with ease, capturing the hearts of everybody in the crowd every time he grins after scoring a basket.

Off the court, he’s an awkward mess. Combine that with the fact that you, the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, are usually the one covering games for the school news, and he’s a goner.

As if it isn’t hard enough for him to make eye contact with the camera, he also has to make sure he doesn’t stare too hard at your shiny hair or glossy lips. His teammates would never let him live it down if he was caught being an absolute creep on video.

What started out as a little crush has grown into a deep admiration. He reads every article that you put out into the school newspaper, sometimes even cutting out the ones you’ve written about him and his team. Everybody makes fun of him for being too scared to just ask you out.

He’s never been one to flirt with girls, but the way you make conversations so easy during interviews, even when he’s stumbling over his words, makes him feel at ease around you. Still, he wonders how much of it is just your journalist persona versus you actually liking him.

Sharing a double with Ricky means he gets exiled a lot in the name of his roommate getting laid. Sometimes, you come back from getting your morning coffee and catch him sleeping on one of the lounge’s couches.

One morning, when your arms are full of pastries that you intend to hoard in your dorm for the upcoming week, you spot him curled up yet again on your way back to your room. 

Without much thought, you stop to leave a muffin and a little note next to it on the table in front of him, conveniently forgetting to sign your name.

It began with cutesy but vague things, like “breakfast for a champion,” but quickly escalated as soon as Gyuvin started leaving notes back for you. 

After a couple exchanges, he even wrote that you didn’t need to be leaving him food at all and that he just wanted to know who you were. Truthfully, you had a really big crush on Gyuvin, but didn’t everybody?

Despite being a bit camera shy, he was always so sweet before and after your interviews, doing his best to make small talk and smiling his smile that could make anybody swoon. 

Plus, you’ve seen how much more comfortable he is with other people, even the cheerleaders, who are all super pretty. He must just be really nice.

So, you continue to leave the notes unsigned, despite each one growing in flirtation. You like the thrill of being mysterious, but you’re mostly just scared of getting rejected since he’s never given you a reason to think he likes you back.

It isn’t until Ricky catches you one morning, a sly grin on his face when he sees you leaving a whole stack of notes on the table.

When you lock eyes with Gyuvin’s roommate, you know the jig is up. Surely, he’ll tell him it’s been you all along.

“Y/N,” Ricky nods when you approach him, his arms crossed. “I have to say, I had my suspicions.”

“Listen, Ricky, I would prefer if we could keep this between us.”

“Gyuvin’s been going on and on about some secret admirer for weeks now. It’s cruel that you won’t tell him who you are.”

“He’s welcome to stop writing back if he doesn’t want to,” you shrug, although it would probably devastate you if that actually happened.

“Oh, trust me, he wants to. Especially if he found out it was you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that every time he finishes an interview with you, he might always run home and lock himself in our bathroom because you get him so riled up. If you know what I mean.”

Your eyes go wide at the revelation. Ricky is surely just messing with you. “That’s—that’s not funny, Ricky. You shouldn’t joke about those kinds of things.”

“I’m not joking,” he chuckles. “Listen, Zeta Beta Omega is throwing a party tonight and the whole team will be there. You should come.”

“I don’t do parties,” you scoff. “Why would you even want me there?”

“Because maybe after a few drinks, you and Gyuvin won’t be so scared to tell each other how you feel. Then you guys can knock off this silly game and he can stop whining about not knowing who his mystery girl is.”

“And go back to whining about how all his roommate does is kick him out every night so he can fuck whoever he lays his eyes on?”

“Exactly. See, Y/N, you get me,” he practically purrs. “So, you show up looking all pretty and talk to my poor, lovesick roomie, and I won’t spill your little secret. Deal?”

“Ugh, fine, I guess. I can’t believe you’re blackmailing me. Deal.”

“Trust me, it’s for your own good, sweetheart.”

You cringe at the pet name. “Is this how you talk to everybody?”

“Yes. Why? Is it working? Are you going to start leaving me notes too?”

“Enjoy the rest of your morning, Ricky. I’ll see you later,” you say, walking past him. Even if he’s annoying, it’s genuinely impressive how he managed to brush off every insult you threw his way.

“See you, Y/N.” You don’t even have to look back at him to know that he winked as he said that.

—————-

Gyuvin knows that staying up all night waiting around for his mystery girl would be an invasion of privacy. At least he thinks the person who keeps leaving him baked goods and notes is a girl. Or maybe he’s just being hopeful that it’s you.

He’s never seen your handwriting before, but he’s been close enough to smell your perfume and he swears he can catch hints of it wafting off the sticky notes.

In fact, he’s started looking forward to Ricky kicking him out of their shared bedroom just because he knows he’ll be waking up to the sweetest surprise when he sleeps in the lounge.

Tonight’s party should be a good distraction from all of the wondering. Maybe, if he’s drunk enough, Ricky will be more embarrassing than alluring and Gyuvin will get to sleep in his own bed. Still, he can’t get this morning’s notes off his mind. 

You’ve left him clues, little doodles of your favorite things. Your coffee order, favorite color, favorite animal, and so on. He’s hoping you’ll be at tonight’s party so he can see if you mention any of the stuff drawn out, but you never show up to these kinds of things.

That was before Ricky got involved. You stood outside the ZBO frat house wearing your worst sneakers and a baby pink minidress, as suggested by one of your suitemates.

If only you didn’t show up by yourself. There were a few familiar faces from class, and of course, the entire basketball team, but nobody you were really friends with. All you could focus on was how sticky the floor was and how much you needed a drink.

“Hi,” you say, finally making your way over to the bartender. It’s the team’s captain, Hanbin. “Just give me whatever tastes the best.”

“One rum punch it is,” he smiles, his whisker dimples making your heart flutter. Why was everybody on the team good looking? “Y/N, right?”

“Yep,” you say, taking the plastic cup from him. “You’re Hanbin. You know, I’ve been meaning to interview you, but you always seem so busy with other things at games.”

“Don’t worry about it. It wouldn’t be nearly as cute as when you interview Gyuvin,” he laughs, eyeing the line of guests waiting for their drinks. “I’ve got a job to do, but I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Thanks for the drink,” you say, holding it up in a sort of cheer before walking away. You take a sip and savor its sweetness, the liquor’s flavor blending in perfectly to the juice. Hanbin’s words stick with you. Were you and Gyuvin cute together?

Sure, he’s so tall that he practically towers over you, but he refuses to ever make eye contact and always keeps his replies so short and polite. Then again, he sure seems to write a lot in the notes that he doesn’t know are going to you.

For a second, you start to consider that you might actually have a chance with him, until you spot him with a beautiful girl touching his arm and whispering something in his ear. Before you can mope for too long, someone is tapping you on the shoulder.

“There you are,” a familiar voice calls over the music. You turn to see Ricky grinning at you, his hair looking almost white under the lights. “You look good.”

“Thanks, I guess,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest to prevent him from checking you out any further. He glances past you at his roommate.

“Don’t worry about her,” he assures you. You don’t know whether or not to believe him. “Gyuvin has never taken a girl home from these parties, let alone kissed one.”

That’s a relief. “Don’t you have a hook-up to hunt down?” you ask Ricky. He cocks an eyebrow at you, sipping his drink.

“Oh, Y/N. I keep my girls on speed dial,” he chuckles. You cringe at his playboy persona and for once in his life, Ricky is embarrassed. He shuts his mouth, hoping you can’t see him blush.

“Wow,” you say, tilting your head at him. “Don’t tell me young and rich, tall and handsome Shen Ricky can actually feel shame. I really wish I had a cameraman with me right now.”

“Like I said, it works on most people,” he attempts to reason. “You’re just immune to my charms, I guess.”

“Guess so,” you smirk, downing the rest of your drink. You glance behind your shoulder to see Gyuvin still talking to that girl, then back at Ricky, who’s deep in thought.

“Do you want to meet the rest of the team?” he asks, surprising you. You give a slight nod, and that’s all he needs to see before grabbing your wrist and pulling you through the crowd.

At first, Ricky lingers as you make small talk with Matthew, Taerae, and Gunwook, and explains to you that Yujin is actually at home because he’s still in high school. You feel like a horrible journalist—have you been so preoccupied with Gyuvin that you didn’t notice there was a literal child on the team?

By now, Ricky’s abandoned you to go find something, or someone, more entertaining. He’s dropped you off with Jiwoong, the oldest player, who is as aloof as he is annoyingly handsome. The way he eyes you makes your stomach do cartwheels, and you’ve had enough to drink that you can’t see the harm in flirting with a cute boy.

He’s spewing some bullshit about meditating when you cut him off. “I like your hair,” you blurt out, catching him off guard. He turns and smiles at you for the first time since you started talking.

“You do?” he asks, running a hand through it. “I think it’s a little long. I might get a haircut soon.”

“Keep it like that,” you say, not taking your eyes off of him. “It looks good.”

Jiwoong is grinning now, but he remembers that you’re Gyuvin’s crush, and it would be totally wrong to kiss you no matter how badly he wants to. He eyes the crowd, searching for someone to save him from the tension. 

“Hao!” he says, grabbing a boy passing by and pulling him into the conversation. He looks familiar, but he’s certainly no basketball player. “Y/N, this is Zhang Hao. He’s our equipment manager. I’m gonna run to the bathroom.”

“Hi, Y/N,” Hao says, clearly caught off guard. “You’re the one who does the interviews, right?”

“That’s me,” you confirm. Jiwoong’s departure right when you thought he was going to kiss you was beyond bizarre. “I didn’t realize how many people knew me.”

“You’re basically a celebrity to the team,” Hao laughs. “They all think you’re pretty.”

“Makes sense,” you smile, sipping on your third drink of the night. “I am, in fact, very pretty.”

“Agreed. So, which one do you have your eye on?” he asks, leaning in to hear you better. “Or should I guess?”

“Go ahead and guess,” you say, eager to know what he thinks.

Hao takes a second to gather his thoughts. “Well, it’s clear that you’re into Gyuvin based on the way you giggle at his seriously unfunny jokes, but you were also just eye fucking Jiwoong. Then again, wasn’t Ricky dragging you around earlier by the hand?”

“By the wrist,” you correct him. “And yes, I do like Gyuvin. But he’s been talking to some other girl the whole night.”

“He only has eyes for you,” Hao says immediately. This is the second time you’ve heard this tonight, but the first where it’s coming from a trustworthy source.

“And you?” you ask in return, shifting the conversation onto him. “Which one do you have a crush on?”

Hao’s eyes widen. “I–I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not—I don’t—”

“Hao,” you cut him off. “You’ve glanced at Hanbin at least six times since this conversation started.”

He swallows, knowing he’s been caught. “It’s that obvious, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Why don’t you go talk to him?”

“We talk all the time,” Hao mutters, looking down at his shoes. “I’m basically his personal assistant.”

“Do you talk about anything other than basketball?”

“No.”

“Do you even like basketball?”

“...No.”

“Hao,” you say, gripping him by the shoulders and turning him towards the drink station. “Go over there and get your man.”

—————-

As if it weren’t enough of a shock to Gyuvin that you actually showed up to a ZBO party, he’s had to spend all night watching you chat up the entire team except for him. 

They’ve no doubt let it slip to you that he has the biggest crush on you on campus, maybe even the entire world. But he’s way too nice to tell one of his classmates, who attends every game just to hold up a sign with his name on it, that he isn’t interested. 

That’s how he ended up nursing his drink with a tight lipped smile, listening to what’s-her-name ramble on about things that would be more interesting to probably anybody else, all while keeping an eye on you as you bounce around the party.

Your interaction with Jiwoong made him jealous beyond belief, and he makes a mental note that while he’s made his crush on you very clear to his teammates, you’re technically not his and free to flirt with whoever you want.

He watches as you grasp Hao and shake him, muttering some words of encouragement before sending him over to the bar. Finally, you’re alone again. It’s now or never.

“I have to go walk my dog,” Gyuvin lies, not even bothering to let the poor girl react before making his way over to you. You’re wearing pink, his secret admirer’s favorite color. Surely, it’s not just a coincidence. 

“Y/N,” he says a little too loud, startling you. You jump, accidentally knocking yourself into him. Both of your drinks go flying and suddenly, you’re covered in sticky red liquid. 

At this point, Gyuvin might as well just die alone. How did he manage to only spill his drink on you and not himself? He peers down at you, guilt written all over his face, as you take in what’s just happened.

“Here,” he says, reaching into his hoodie’s pocket and pulling out wadded tissues. “They’re clean, I promise. I have, uh, I’ve got allergies, so I carry around a ton.” 

He unfolds one and gently pats the liquid off of you without so much of a second thought. Your silence makes him panic even more, and he’s so focused on drying you off that he doesn’t even notice he’s basically rubbing the tissue on your cleavage.

Gyuvin freezes once he finally notices where his hand is, immediately pulling away and putting a good distance between the two of you. “I am so sorry. Holy shit, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m not a pervert! Please don’t think I’m a pervert.”

“Gyuvin,” you finally say, your voice just as sweet as always. He’s pacing as much as he can with everybody packed in so tightly, his long legs taking tiny steps. “It’s okay. I don’t think you’re a pervert.”

He stops and looks down at you. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”

“Really,” you reassure him. “Although I might think you’re a klutz. Who knew Wakefield’s star basketball player was so clumsy off the court?”

“Technically, you bumped into me,” he asserts, his smile returning. “But you’re also the one who got soaked, so let’s just call things even.”

“Deal,” you agree. Sure, it’s fun when boys are obviously flirting with you, but the way Gyuvin has no clue what he’s doing is just so charming. It feels natural when you’re with him, a nice departure from the overused pickup lines and generic compliments that are usually thrown your way.

Gyuvin takes in your stained dress, the red punch seeping into the pink fabric like blood. You look straight out of a horror movie. 

“Here,” he says, shrugging off his varsity jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders before taking in the sight of you. “Wow. You look so…”

“Silly?” you answer, the expanse of material wrapped around you like a tent. 

“Cute. You look so cute.” Gyuvin meets your eyes for a split second before looking away again, his ears now feeling even hotter than when he saw you with Jiwoong. “I can get you a new shirt, if you want. My room isn’t far from here.”

“You want me to go with you to your room?” you giggle, enjoying how flustered you make him. Hearing his teammates talk about how much he likes you has taken a weight off your shoulders, and you don’t know how you ever thought he wasn’t into you before.

“No! Well, yes, but only if you want to. And I’m not using this as an excuse to bring you back to my room. I just know you like pink and I have this one pink shirt that shrunk in the wash and I think you’d look really good in it. Plus, I can start a load of laundry and get your dress all clean.”

This is the most you’ve ever heard him talk, his voice a few pitches higher than usual when he’s rambling. Plus, if he knows how much you like pink, he must be following your clues. “Let’s go to your room, then.” 

—————-

While Gyuvin’s side of the room is much neater than you expected, Ricky’s side looks weirdly perfect. Not a single thing is out of place, with every item labeled or color coordinated. You’re shocked that two basketball players can manage to keep such a small room so tidy.

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” Gyuvin apologizes, moving to make his bed. “You can sit here.” 

“If this is what you think is messy, you don’t want to see my room,” you say, taking in all of the decorations. Usually, when you’re in a guy’s room, it’s all navy blue and manly movie posters, but Gyuvin’s walls are so colorful and covered in photos of his family and friends. 

One piece of paper catches your eye—the very first article you wrote about the basketball team. You scan his wall, catching more and more newspaper clippings, all penned by you. Gyuvin’s too busy putting things away and rustling through his drawers to notice you staring at them in awe.

“Here we go,” he calls out, turning and holding up a shrunken pink t-shirt and a pair of sweats. His grin fades as soon as he catches you reading one of your own articles, which have been on his wall for so long that he’s forgotten they’re even there. “Oh. Uh, please don’t think I’m a creep.”

“It’s not creepy. It’s sweet. They’re all about you, anyway,” you say, turning to take the shirt from him. It has a picture of a silly looking greyhound on the front of it.

“Right,” Gyuvin says, shrugging off the interaction. He pulls himself onto the bed next to you, sitting cross legged and making sure to leave a gap between you and him. “That’s my dog, Eumppappa.” 

“Eumppappa is an amazing name,” you muse, turning to smile at him. Your faces end up being so close that Gyuvin thinks his heart has stopped beating. In his attempt to scoot back, he ends up tumbling off of his bed.

“Fuck,” he says as he lands on the ground. You peer down from the lofted bed at his long limbs sprawled across the rug. If you didn’t think he was a complete loser before, you probably do now.

“Are you okay?” you call out, watching as he sits up and rubs his head.

“I’m good,” Gyuvin assures you, taking a breather before getting to his feet and heading towards the door. “I’m going to step out and let you change. Let me know when you’re decent.”

“Will do,” you smile, giving him a thumbs up. You strip your clothes off, throwing on the t-shirt and sweats and pulling the drawstring until you know they won’t fall off of you. “You can come back in, Gyuvin!”

He stumbles in, practically waiting with his body pressed against the door for the moment he could see you again. God, could you really not tell how much he liked you before tonight?

Gyuvin eyes you drowning in his clothes and he knows that he’d move earth and heaven if it meant that you’re who he got to wake up to for the rest of his life. 

“I’ll go throw this in the washer and then we can head back to the party,” he stammers, snapping out of his daydream and grabbing your dress. Your smile is so pretty right now, even after all of his awkwardness, that it takes everything in him not to get hard just looking at you.

By the time he gets back from the laundry room, you’ve decided you don’t want to go back to the party, especially not dressed like this.

“Oh,” Gyuvin says, disappointed that his time with you has been cut short by his clumsiness. “Do you want me to walk you back to your place?”

“I live down the hall,” you remind him. You hope he doesn’t realize you could’ve just as easily grabbed your own change of clothes.

“Right,” he grimaces. He knows that. He’s always trying to time leaving his room perfectly so that he runs into you on the way to class.

Just like whenever you interview Gyuvin, there’s an awkward silence, except this time it can’t be edited out. He’s back to looking everywhere in the room except at you.

“It’s not even midnight,” you say, glancing at your phone’s lockscreen. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Like, together?” Gyuvin asks in disbelief. You nod, an amused smirk on your face. “Duh, of course you meant together. Yeah, sure, let’s watch a movie.”

Moments later, you’re sitting in the dark with Gyuvin, your legs pulled close to your chest as you watch Amélie projected onto the wall above Ricky’s bed. 

Every once in a while, Gyuvin lets himself relax, his arm or his leg brushing against you by accident. After spending half of the film pulling away out of fear that he’s bothering you, he finally settles for having his fingers barely touching yours. 

“You know,” he starts, his eyes still locked on the movie. “I kind of have my own mystery going on right now.”

“Really?” you say, feigning shock. “About what?”

“Someone keeps leaving me notes when I sleep in the lounge. Sometimes treats, but mostly notes. They don’t sign their name, but today they left me some little doodles as clues and I’ve been trying to figure them out.”

The way you’re reacting makes his stomach turn. How could it be you when you have a look on your face that says you have no clue what he’s talking about?

“Well, I’ve been meaning to work on my investigative journalism. What if I helped you track your secret admirer down?”

If you aren’t going to fall for him, he’ll at least settle for being friends. “That’d be awesome, Y/N.” 

Suddenly, Ricky comes crashing into the dorm room, his lips attached to some girl’s face. He pulls away from her for a second, barely registering that you’re even there, before pulling out his wallet and throwing a couple hundred dollar bills at Gyuvin. “Get out. Now.”

Before you can protest, Ricky’s already unbuttoning his shirt, and you’ll gladly evacuate if it means you don’t have to watch whatever freaky shit is about to go down.

“I didn’t know he pays you to sleep in the lounge,” you laugh, your arms full of Gyuvin’s comforter as you walk down the hall. “With that kind of money, he could just buy an apartment.”

“He could,” Gyuvin starts, holding his pillow in one hand and the stack of notes—your notes—in the other. “But then he wouldn’t get the true college experience. Plus, he only throws money at me when it’s a last minute thing.”

“How much was that, anyway? Like $300?” you ask. He stops and takes out his wallet.

“$400. Pretty standard,” he shrugs, counting the bills. Your eyes widen at the total.

“Are you going to share?” you pout. “I got kicked out too.”

“You can have it,” he says, handing you the money, his brain short circuiting at the way you bat your eyelashes at him. You marvel at the crisp bills. “This is just another Friday night for me.”

“Okay, young and rich, tall and handsome Kim Gyuvin. Thanks for buying my dinner for the rest of the semester!” You don’t know this, but if you asked him to, Gyuvin would buy you whatever you wanted.

Before you can get down to helping him figure out the doodles, or throwing him off your trail, the two of you are fast asleep. Instead of the lounge’s couch, Gyuvin curls up on the oversized bean bag on your bedroom floor. It’s much too small for his frame to actually be comfortable, but he somehow feels more content just being around you.

—————-

Taglist: @orangesodafoam @theresawtf @nerezza123 @gyvnexe @xiurmy-everything @wollycobbl3-blr @cloudgyubi @yunnie-11 @wheatrice

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[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Shooting a Movie

Note: I have nothing to say for myself. shoutout to @foxyanon for letting me ramble about this fic to her as I made it up.

Warnings: 18+!! smut/pwp. reader and Masema are pornstars, what else do I need to say? All the clichés are there.

pairing: Modern!Masema x you (f)

summary: Before shooting an adult film with Masema, he wanted to meet you for a chemistry check. And a test ride.

wordcount: 3,1k

Masterlist

Working with Masema was like a dream come true. Everyone knew he was simply the hottest guy in the porn industry and everyone wanted to work with him. But Masema was picky with who he worked with, being able to have that privilege, so you couldn't believe it when you heard he wanted to make a movie with you and therefore invited you over to his house 'to see if the chemistry is there,' as his email had said.

You were an up and coming name in the business, being the shy and innocent looking bombshell everyone wants to be or wants to be with, and Masema was interested in working with you because he knew for a fact he could corrupt a little delicate and shy thing such as yourself. He knew he could make you shed that innocence and pull out a wild and filthy side of you that you hadn't discovered yet. There was nothing wrong with making soft porn, as you did, but he wanted to make a mess out of you and he was determined to do so. But first he wanted to meet you, because no matter how beautiful you were; if there was no real chemistry, Masema didn't want it.

Masema's house was big, kind of what you'd expect from a guy with his profession who made a lot of money just because of the way he looked. And he did well for himself, very well. 

Masema greeted you at the door, dressed in tight grey jeans that showed off the shape of his legs and he wore a black sleeveless shirt on top, immediately impressing you with the size of his biceps. You weakened at the thought of how easily this man could pick you up with just one arm and throw you around, only to use you as his toy, and you would let him use you the way he pleased, no questions asked. His hair was tied back, sporting his signature top knot cut, and his mismatched eyes were even prettier in real life than you could've imagined. His voice was low and smooth each time he spoke, so honeyed and warm that you knew from the get go you would do everything he'd tell you to do, on and off camera. His smile was flirty and it became clear within seconds that he's quite touchy, as he constantly brushed his fingers over your bare arms and lightly touched your lower back as he guided you through his massive house and into his backyard, where you both sat back on his luxurious loungeset, overlooking his pool with sparkling clear water, and he offered you something to drink to break the ice.

Masema sat close to you, manspreading and with his arms spread out across the sofa's backrest. His eyes were now hidden behind his dark shades as they trailed up from your bare legs to your face while you enjoyed your drink, and he very much enjoyed the sight of you in those cute white hot pants and white cropped shirt on top. As always so innocent and cute looking, he simply loved it because he couldn't wait to break you.

'So,' he said, his voice barely above a murmur, 'I'm actually surprised you wanted to work with me.'

'And why is that?' you smiled.

'I've seen your movies,' Masema replied and licked his lips, 'and we're quite the opposite, aren't we, doll?' he tilted his head to the side with a half smile as he looked at you.

'Oh, well, yes,' you chuckled, 'I know I'm more in the soft porn category, whereas you are, you know,' you cleared your throat and shrugged lightly.

'Hardcore,' Masema added, 'yes. So, how did you envision this then, sweetheart? Because surely no one wants me to make a soft movie.'

'No, I know,' you said quickly, 'that's also not what I am expecting. But I thought maybe we could somehow combine the two.'

Masema hummed and looked out over his pool, as if he was pondering over your idea. And after a moment of long silence he looked back at you and smiled faintly.

'So, what do you have in mind?' he asked.

'I thought we could just start of slow, some touching and kissing-'

'I don't kiss in my movies, darling,' Masema interrupted, but he then paused and lowered his head slightly so he could look into your eyes over the rim of his glasses, 'but if you can make me want to kiss you,' he said, 'then you'd have a first time thing with me that would surely draw attention,' he winked.

'I can make you,' you purred as you leaned in closer, 'trust me.'

Masema watched how you lightly trailed your fingers up his thighs, and he wetted his smirking lips with the tip of his tongue. He wouldn't hand it to you that easily, but you were right. He wouldn't mind kissing you at all, even though that was always a hard no for him with everyone else. But he wasn't going to give in this fast, he would first just enjoy seeing you work for it and what you were capable of without being on set and having directors tell you what to do and what to say.

'Quite a statement,' he smiled and placed his big hand on your thigh.

'I know what I'm capable of,' you said with a cocky grin, your hand slowly moving up to his inner thigh.

You then began to rub his bulge through his pants, knowing exactly that the only reason you were invited was to show him what you were capable of, and you would make sure to give him exactly what he wanted in order to get that movie made as it would surely boost your career. Masema looked at you through his sunglasses, keeping his unphased posture while he wanted nothing more than to rip your clothes off and fuck you until you couldn't remember your own name anymore, which is what he'd usually do, but he'd play by your rules for once now and sit it out.

He lightly traced your bare shoulder with his fingers while you continued to palm his trapped erection, and he felt a little lightheaded when you suddenly got up and stood in front of him. He watched you in silence as you slowly took off your cropped shirt and then sat down, straddling his lap. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders and teasingly grinded down onto him while you leaned in closer.

'So fucking hard already,' you purred as your noses touched lightly.

Masema hummed in response, his arms still spread while he enjoyed the friction you gave him, even if it was nowhere near enough.

'Can't wait to put you in my mouth and suck you dry, big boy,' you chuckled, to which Masema flashed a sly smile.

He then took your chin, firmly holding it with just three fingers while he nuzzled your nose briefly.

'And I can't wait to see your tears run down your cute little face while you choke on it,' he husked.

You sat back and laughed softly, that cheeky little laugh you always did in your movies, Masema had heard it before. But it was a little different this time, he could tell that this time it was genuine. And in response to that he suddenly grabbed your throat, pleasantly tight as he was squeezing, and he pulled you back to him to crash his lips onto yours, making it the sloppiest and hottest kiss you had ever received and it left your head spinning once he pulled away.

You then smoothly dropped to your knees while you were still recovering from the unexpected kiss. You were quick to unbutton his jeans while Masema just looked down at you, his lower lip drawn between his teeth and his head slightly tilted to the side. You pulled out his hard length, which was throbbing and you felt every vein as you gave his thick cock a few firm strokes. He was even thicker and longer than you anticipated.

You looked up at him as you dragged the tip of your tongue up from the base of his cock to his tip, which you teased with your tongue while he still sat back with his arms stretched out over the couch. He smiled faintly at you before he brought one hand up to the back of your head.

'That's it,' he said with a soft hum, 'wrap your pretty lips around my cock,' he then took off his shades, 'and look into my eyes while you suck me off.'

Your eyes remained locked intensely as you enthusiastically began to bop your head, while he gradually pushed your head down further, shoving his cock all the way down your throat until you gagged and your eyes teared up. You pulled away when he released his grip on your head, and he took your chin as you gasped for a moment of air.

'Already too much?' he smirked.

'No,' you smiled and wiped your mouth, drool and precum already coating your lips and chin.

'Good,' Masema murmured and stroked your cheek with the back of his hand, 'tell me, beautiful, have you been slapped before?'

'No,' you almost giggled and gave him a daring look as you worked him with your hands.

Masema understood your gaze, and he then suddenly slapped your cheek, causing you to gasp and half moan with excitement before your cheeky laughter sounded again as you looked back into his eyes, hungry for more.

'Hm, you like that, don't you?' he asked and gently caressed your reddening cheek.

'Yes,' you smiled with hooded eyes while tears of pleasure slowly escaped and rolled down your face.

Masema hummed with a satisfied smile and slapped you again, then immediately took your face firmly as he leaned in.

'I'm going to corrupt you,' he said softly with his warm and raspy voice, 'I'll turn you into the dirty slut that you are.'

You bit down on your lip as you nodded and smiled, your eyes darting up and down between his deliciously twitching cock and his beautiful mismatched eyes.

'You want my cock?' he purred, seeing the hunger and need in your eyes.

'Yes, please,' you said desperately, 'I want to suck your big and pretty cock.'

'I know you do,' Masema murmured, 'you're practically drooling all over it, aren't you?' he teasingly slapped the tip of his cock against your parted lips while your eyes pleaded for more.

'Please,' you begged, then opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue as Masema stood up and towered over you.

He leaned in and took your chin firmly again to kiss you.

'So pretty when you beg for me,' he husked and teased your watering mouth again with his cock, giving you only the tip before he pulled away again, 'so pretty on your knees for me.'

You smiled and squeezed your thighs together in search of relief as you watched him stroke his cock above your face. Masema slid his fingers in your hair, clenching a fistful to keep you in place and then shoved his whole length down your throat again. He exhaled sharp with pleasure and threw his head back, and he continued to fuck your mouth with a steady pace until he felt his climax was slowly approaching and the tears rolled down your face. He pulled out before he came at the sight of the mess you were, and he told you to take off your pants. You obeyed, but in return you told him to take off his shirt, to which he grinned and listened. You were then completely exposed, standing in front of Masema while he teasingly slowly slid down his boxers after he had taken off his jeans.

You admired his body; his toned biceps and muscular chest were to die for, his broad shoulders were perfect to hold onto, and his abs were simply an invitation to drag your tongue across. His thighs were muscular too and perfect to get off on if he wouldn't allow you the joy of getting fucked by him, but luckily he wasn't going to deny you that pleasure. 

He picked you up with ease and threw you onto the comfortable bean bag next to the pool and, instead of getting straight to the point like he usually does, he granted you some of the soft porn sensuality you were used to and he slowly kissed his way from your ankle to your inner thighs. He then locked your hips with his arms as he kissed your soaked folds, before delving his tongue right in and pleasing you orally just the way you had done for him. He used his tongue and fucked you with his fingers until he felt your walls clench around his digits. He then pulled away, not allowing you your high yet, and before you could whine at the loss he had you already picked up in his strong arms again, and he slid his thick cock inside you with ease, stretching and filling you completely. He pounded your pussy without mercy, his hands holding your thighs bruisingly while you desperately clung onto his shoulders and kept your legs wrapped around his waist.

You both began to moan at the feeling, but before it became too much he pulled out again and quickly bended you over the table nearby, taking you from behind and causing your moans to become out of control while he ravaged you perfectly. He held your wrists with one hand, keeping your arms behind your back while his other hand was between your shoulders, keeping you pressed down on the table while he had his way with you.

'Nice and tight,' Masema moaned and laughed, 'fuck, your pussy feels so fucking good.'

'Ahh, fuck,' you moaned with ragged breaths, 'more, please,' you begged and squirmed when he suddenly pulled out.

You moaned in protest, but then he unexpectedly shoved his cock fully back inside you again rather slowly, which made you whine with pleasure and was the reason for your eyes to roll back and your mouth to fall open with a smile curled on your lips.

'Harder,' you begged with a whisper.

'Look at you,' Masema said with a mocking tone as he pulled out slowly again, 'begging to be fucked harder,' he grabbed your hair and made you look up at him while he leaned in from behind, 'is that what cute and innocent girls do, hm?'

Before you could respond he slammed back into you again, and he felt you immediately clench around him while you squealed and screamed out in absolute pleasure.

'Oh, you're my favourite,' he grunted, repeating the movement again and again, 'so easy to corrupt. I'm going to enjoy having my way with you, doll,' he laughed and pulled out again, then easily picked you up once more and threw you over his shoulder.

He slapped your ass hard, to which you gasped and laughed as he manhandled you with ease, and you loved every second of it. He took you back to the loungeset, where he sat down and pulled you in his lap so he could fuck you from underneath. Your head was resting back on his shoulder while he fucked you out of your mind, hearing his low and ragged breathing in your ear while you felt his hand around your throat and his other on your waist. You could only mumble incoherently and moan loudly as he fucked into you deeply, his balls violently slamming against your pussy with each thrust, driving you both nearly to the edge. 

He then swiftly swapped places and pinned your knees next to your head so he could fuck you even deeper while he looked down into your eyes. He fucked you like that until your legs were shaking and your moans sounded with a faint tremble as you both watched his cock slide in and out of you.

'Fuck,' you whined and looked back up into his eyes, only being able to murmur your words while you were simply cock drunk, 'ahh, fuck, you're so good. So fucking good,' you half drooled, 'I love your cock,' you laughed cheekily again, 'hm, I love your big fucking cock inside of me.'

'Yeah,' he husked and grabbed your throat, 'you dirty slut,' he laughed, 'you don't like to be fucked only soft, do you?'

'No,' you babbled as you struggled to keep your eyes open, feeling him bruisingly deep inside you.

'Taking me so well,' Masema rasped, 'I've never seen you this fucked out before,' he smiled, 'you just needed a real man to fuck you stupid like this, didn't you?'

'Mhm,' you hummed and moaned as you felt your core tighten abruptly.

And before you could even try to stop it, you felt your release coming in heavy waves with loud moans as you clawed at his back. Masema climaxed quickly after you, with a heavy groan, and he took your face to look at you while he slowly fucked you through both your highs.

'That's it,' he cooed, 'good girl, so beautiful,' he smiled a little dazed and kissed your lips gently.

'Oh, fuck,' you sighed, satisfied, 'fuck,' you said again and laughed before you kissed him, 'fuck, I think I'm in love with you,' you murmured against his lips.

Masema chuckled and shook his head as he stilled inside you.

'That's what they all say once I'm done with them,' he said and pulled out of you.

He helped you sit back gently and then gathered your clothes and gave them to you before he was fast to slip his own boxers on again.

'You can use the bathroom upstairs to clean up,' Masema said, 'second door on the left.'

You thanked him and went to clean up, needing a moment to yourself to gather some strength again. But still, your legs felt unsteady once you walked down the marble stairs and returned to the Masema's backyard, where he sat back on one of the lounge chairs with his shades on again.

'You good?' he asked.

'Yeah, you smiled, 'I should get going.'

'Sure, let me walk you out then.'

Masema walked you to his door and told you to have your manager hit up his manager, so a date and location to shoot an actual movie could be arranged, to which you happily agreed.

'Thanks for the good time,' he said and kissed your cheek, 'I'll see you soon, yeah?'

'For sure,' you smiled and felt yourself blush lightly, 'you'll see me soon.'

'Should be a good time again,' Masema said and winked, then checked out your ass while you walked as steady as you could to your car, so you could drive home and arrange the shoot.

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#masema x reader #masema x you #masema #masema dagar #modern!masema #🫣

[lilithgreye]

Numerical Letterology

— the basics

What letterology is

Letterology is a type of numerology you can use to understand the energy behind words or names. Each letter is assigned a number in letterology. It goes in order of the alphabet. Capital letters begin after the last number of the alphabet

Letters to numbers

Lowercase letters: a = 1 , b = 2 , c = 3 , d = 4 , e = 5 , f = 6 , g = 7 , h = 8 , i = 9 , j = 10 , k = 11 , l = 12 , m = 13 , n = 14 etc

Uppercase letters: A = 27 , B = 28 , C = 29 , D = 30 , E = 31 , F = 32 , G = 33 , H = 34 , I = 35 , J = 36 , K = 37 , L = 38 etc

How can you use this

• To change your names energy to fulfill a desire of yours

• To create a company name

• To create a company logo

• To name your child

• To create a username

Some examples

• Marilyn Monroe: Her name actually isn’t Marilyn Monroe. The letterology of Marilyn Monroe was better than her real name Norma Jeane Mortenson. Norma = 7 while Marilyn = 11. 11 is a better number for fame than 7. Marilyn Monroe has 13 letters and the first and last name both start with M which is the 13th letter. 13 is a very influential number. Marilyn Monroe = 1 which is the number of leadership as well. This could explain why she was one of the most famous people to ever live

• Google: = 7 and this is the number of technology. Its logo is also the letter G which equals 33 and 33 is the most influential number. The colors in the G add to 28 which is the number of wealth also

• Charli Damelio: She’s one of the most followed people on tiktok. Charli = 11 (fame number), Charli Damelio = 33 (most influential number), cd (her initials) = 7 the number of technology, and her name has 13 letters (another influential number). Her parents most likely know numerology

Your vowel number

There’s more than just your regular name numbers. You also must pay close attention to the number the vowels add/reduce to as well

• Example: Google’s vowels (ooe) add to 17 and reduce to 8 the number of money/power

Your consonant number

Your consonant number is also important in letterology. Not many people talk about this number but you must pay attention to this as well

Your combined letterology

I’ve never seen a numerologist talk about this before but I’ve found adding your regular name/word number, vowel number, and consonant number can reveal a hidden energy in the word

#letterology #numerology #numerology blog #numerology letters

[sphylor]

Or- another thought, Phantom trying out a grinder, one of those that are so soft that it's gentle on his sensitive cock, and if it has a vibrator with it you just know he's melting

I'll see myself out now

once again thanks to the man the myth the freak /lovingly legend @divine-misfortune for having a massive brain with ideas fhshhfhdhf

oh just imagine dhdhfhd Phantom sitting on it and slowly starting grind down. its amazing. with how soft the silicone is against their sensitive little cock, combined with how cool the lube is, its probably the only relief they've gotten all day. Phantom starts to think that they should book a check up with Aether or Omega about the pain but then they remember the remote control to turn on the vibration and the thought is quickly forgotten. all thoughts empty out of their head and all they can think about is how good they feel. they cant help the moans that escape their lips and honestly they dont care how loud they could be being right now. they can feel their clit throbbing as they grind it against the ridged surface of the toy. words start falling from their lips without them even realising it.

"please, Dew. please let me cum. ive been good just let me cum. Dew, please."

they repeat it like a mantra, speaking it out into their empty room as they get closer and closer to the edge. their body seizes up, hands gripping their bedsheets so hard their claws tear them, and they cum with Dew's name on their tongue. and now the sensations are too much. they scramble for the remote to turn the vibration off and flop onto their back, realising they had just begged Dew to cum when he wasnt even there... the realisation gives them an odd feeling. the shame they feel is overwhelming but they also cant deny that it doesnt turn them on juuuust a little bit for reasons they cant explain. something to think about later, they decide as they start to clean themself up

#phantom ghoul #cw forcemasc #i guess? i mean this one doesnt actually include any of it but its still part of the same idea fhshhfhd #anyway theres more to this one if anyone is interested teehee it gets weirder :3 #also any inaccuracies are my own fault i am Very inexperienced with everything ever ghshbfhdbf

[tobiasdrake]

Okay, your post on Videl got me thinking of Lunch again. She was one of the highlights of Dragonball for me, and she just, didn't exist in Z? Outside of a brief appearance at the end of the anime. Do you have any interesting thoughts on her?

Lunch was mostly a combination of two jokes, one of which is gross and the other of which is hysterical.

As a character, Lunch was mostly relegated to two bits. For the first, I think it was a popular gag in 80's and 90's anime to have an elderly pervert try to pull shit on young women only to face violent comeuppance. I remember seeing this in quite a bit of anime back in the day, and that's precisely the gag that the Muten-Roshi came to center around.

This is precisely what Lunch was originally introduced for. A sweet and unassuming woman that Roshi could perv on....

Right up until a sneeze brings out her alter for violent retribution.

Lunch was the first Super Saiyan IN THIS ESSAY I WILL

Fortunately, since Goku spends so little time at Kame House as the manga progresses, we don't tend to see much of this. Instead, the main thing Lunch gets used for is indiscriminate violence. As Blonde Lunch settled in as one of the gang, her propensity for crime and ability to pull firearms straight out of thin air became her main gag.

You know, in retrospect? If she had to be written out? Robbing the Muten-Roshi of that diamond and then flying off over the horizon would have been a great way to do it.

Imagine if this was the last we ever saw of Lunch. Powerhouse of an ending for her character, wasted on a funny bit in the RRA arc.

Honestly, the RRA arc is peak Lunch. That time she kicked God in the butt notwithstanding.

For the last important thing she ever did in the series, that's such a note to go out on.

But in addition to the hilarious diamond bit, the RRA arc also gives us the only time Lunch has actually gotten to use her propensity for violence in a genuine fight. This is one of my favorite Lunch moments.

Mistakenly believing that the Muten-Roshi is the inventor of Goku's Dragon Radar, Red Ribbon moves to seize control of Kame House. This goes badly for them.

It's been like four months since that guy managed to beat Goku in the ring. Y'all made mistakes.

Red Ribbon manages to make him stop doing this to them by taking Lunch hostage.

But Turtle's there with the palm frond.

And then, shortly after, she robbed the Muten-Roshi for that diamond. Her whole part of the General Blue sub-arc is Peak Lunch.

(I genuinely don't know if using sneezes to transition between personalities is, like, a common ableist stereotype in Japanese culture or if Danganronpa's Genocide Jack was inspired by Lunch specifically. I do wonder.)

The 22nd Tenkaichi Budokai, however, would kickstart what would unexpectedly be the beginning of the end for Lunch.

Her takeaway from Goku and Tenshinhan's final match is that Ten is a fucking beast and Mama Want. This wasn't supposed to be how her character exits the series. But then Raditz showed up.

In the reunion between Goku and his friends at Kame House, Yamcha and Lunch would both reasonably be expected to be present. Yamcha's absence is explained by him and Bulma fighting again, while Lunch is said to have left after the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai to go with Tenshinhan.

And then she never came back. This was the last we ever heard of her. Toriyama has said in interview that he forgot she existed, but he did still occasionally draw her or provide a few extra details for what ever became of her and Tenshinhan's... situation.

In interview following the release of Battle of Gods, he finally gave a final ending for Lunch and Ten's situation.

"Stoic Tenshinhan mainly does farming in addition to his training. He can split into multiple bodies and grow extra arms, so harvesting the crops goes quickly. He was found by Lunch, who fell in love with him at first sight and had been constantly pursuing his whereabouts, and even reluctantly lived together with her; but she wasn’t cut out for farming, and Tenshinhan has no interest in romance, so she left after just a few days. After that, it seems Lunch apparently stops in from time to time."

We don't get to see much of Ten's social life because he doesn't associate with anybody. He and Chiaotzu are an island unto themselves, only popping in when the Earth is in peril.

Unless they're undergoing some sort of heavenly trial or fighting the apocalypse, they don't hang out with Kame-senryu. And since our guys are Kame-senryu, that means we don't get to hang out with them.

They're off doing their own thing and walking their own path. And Lunch is over there in the mystical land of wherever they fucking go with them now. Popping in on the aromantic Tenshinhan from time to time while living her exciting life of crime.

So, farewell Lunch. You really were a hoot to have around.

#dragon ball #dragon ball z #lunch

[marimayscarlett]

*{||free Get out of Horny Jail card||}*

Here is my offering to the RZK Queen!!! Please tell us the most downright filthy things you've thought about Richard, you will NOT be taken to horny jail for this ❤️

Hi 👋

This ask has been sitting in my drafts for forever and I just overlooked it! So it's time to post it. I put everything under a cut because it's most likely tmi which not everyone is interested it 🤲🏼

I am in luck that I don't have to type out a lengthy reply for this ask, since there's already a brilliant masterpost regarding this topic - the wonderful @meinewellemeinstrand put a whole list together of the thirstiest thoughts one could have of this man (she really has a way with words and has an insane talent for thirsting in general, god bless 🙏🏼), so this sums it up quite nicely:

Yet, I don't want to miss the chance to add some small additional points that specifically relate to my thought process:

Thigh riding I know that the topic 'belly riding' was already mentioned in the post above, yet I want to emphazise how perfect this man's thighs are - sturdy, thick and definitely enough room to ride on it into the sunset. Additionally, with this activity, you can significantly reduce the risk of literally breaking the old man's aging hip. Safety first ☝

(gif by @dandysnob)

2. Praising Goes both ways. Richard yearns for appreciation and recognition and I am more than ready to give him that, telling him exactly how well he does things and wouldn't be opposed to hearing that from him as well 😌

3. Fingers Well. What should I say. Would most likely be better if I just don't say anything. Oh, and marks of his rings on skin please 🤲🏼

4. This weird combination of wet Richard absolutely destroying me while this song plays (don't ask me anything, I don't even know):

I won't mention my elaborate fantasy about vampire lord Richard here, as it has taken on absolutely unhealthy proportions. 🙃

(Since I received an anon yesterday who strongly criticized when people are called Queen or something similar in this fandom, I want to make it clear once again that I do not claim any title for myself and unfortunately do not enjoy the privileges of a queen - although I wouldn't mind if that means being courted by Richard in a medieval setting. 🙂)

#danger: tmi to the max #don't like don't read I guess #rammstein #richard kruspe #ask

[goodcastlegazette]

Soooooo many thoughts. I was getting frustrated with Ame’s performance in the chambers - as someone else out it, she literally walked into verbal traps - even tho it’s on brand for someone who is tired, scared, and almost froze to death earlier. The witches are now DEFINITELY out to get her too. It seemed like the advantage of knowing was a little wasted? But now it provoked Indri and Mirara to show their hand beyond the chamber(aka arguing where they could be seen/overheard), so THEY CAN FIX THIS RIGHT. IT’LL BE F I NE.

Very scared for how this arc turns out but sooooo invested. Especially because of the ending, but I’m so nervous about Ame. She still idolizes Wren/Ren(obv she’s great) and her reliance on it combined with an assumption of goodwill from witches has outwardly provoked the others. I think if she can get through to Grimoire and Hacaea she has a good chance as well as the gang, but this is a) my initial thoughts and b) ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN. She just has to say that no, my station DOES fit without pissing everyone off

also, how that all clicked into place? Successful wisdom from Ame, analytical approach from Suvi(so satisfying to listen to) and absolute BANG ON instincts from Eursulon???? 10/10 no notes

#worlds beyond number #worlds beyond number spoilers #wbn spoilers #wbn pod #GAHHHHHH

[krynutsreal]

For the Ishimondo hcs... I imagine Mondo having trouble falling asleep, specially near other people because he's always on defense mode (he has PTSD, no one can change my mind) but near Taka he just sleeps very peacefully with no trouble at all

ALSO Taka being the type of person who wakes up too easily meanwhile Mondo sleeps like a ROCK, the world could explode and Mondo would continue a mimir

(Sorry if the hcs are kinda bad I just woke up uhhh)

ough YEA I already see mondo as more of a night owl so him having trouble falling asleep makes sense to me. I can also see him getting nightmares/night terrors which also prevent him to sleep peacefully so that combined with having to sleep with someone else is just. not a great time for him RAHHG but ...taka....grabs him and shakes him. Maybe it's due to how close they are that mondo gets calmer when sleeping by him? I can definitely imagine that after a particularly bad nightmare mondo ends up opening up about his trauma related nightmares to taka (even if taka wasn't there to necessarily see him have a nightmare). Then from that point on it just helps him sleep better knowing that taka is right by his side.

also, I feel like mondo would snore, and since you mentioned that you hc taka as being a light sleeper I can imagine him just. Waking up every now and then because he hears something and then turns out it's mondo snoring loud as hell

or like they're sleeping/having a sleepover whatever and there's something going on outside. Mondo wouldn't even budge while takas eyes open wide immediately once he hears the noise. He'd probably hear crickets and wake up for sure 😭

Thinking way too much about this but man I can imagine a situation where they both NEED to wake up. Idk something important or they both are late to something and taka immediately waking up and trying to wake up mondo (also struggling to get off the bed because of mondo clinging onto him),, hes gotta fuckin push or shake him around tho cause mondos such a heavy sleeper not even takas yelling would wake him up</3

#whole lotta yapping in this kne sorry king thought way too much about it #danganronpa #mondo owada #kiyotaka ishimaru #krambles #ishimondo #takas like the one jon and Garfield image where Garfield is deflated #“garfield speak to me” image and instead of jon its taka death gripping mondos shoulders being like ''WAKE UP!!!!! WAKE UPP!!!!!! #WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE MONDO WAKE JP WAKEUUOPP''