#how od I hide content

[sailoryooons]

BOONGI REQUEST THE SEQUEL !!! honeymooning with yoongi and your trip is a little too richly scheduled considering how horny you both are.... leads to fucking in some interesting places 🙈

❀ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

❀ Summary: Your tropical honeymoon is planned down to the very minute to get the most out of your trip but it seems that Yoongi has plans of throwing off your itinerary every time his hands touch you. 

❀ Word Count: 4,355

❀ Genre: Established relationship, pwp

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Absolutely self-indulgent and gratuitous smut, literally this is the most porn without plot I have ever done, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex, fucking from behind, semi-public fucking, light degredation, oral (m. and f. receiving), riding Yoongi, fucking from behind, face sitting, throat fucking, a lot of cum and spit and holes, Yoongi and reader fuck in public spaces where they cannot be seen a lot, temperature place, use of ice (please do not ever take ice from a random ice bucket and put it in your partners vagina, this is fiction and it was handy but do not do that lmao), cum swallowing and cum eating when you squint. 

❀ Published: August 9, 2023

❀ A/N: This is sort of a part two? You do not have to read the first request to read this one, they are easily read separately. Thanks for giving me an excuse to just write porn. There literally is nothing here but porn, I don’t even know if they have chemistry, but they fucking. Honestly I had to cut scenes out of this because I also imagined the infinity pool moment and so many other moments because M and I are fucking insane and ruminate on this shit, but at one point it was just… getting longer and I was RUNNING OUT OF WORDS FOR DICK AND COCK AND I HATE THE WORD DICK IN SMUT IF FEELS NOT VERY SEXY. Okay. Here is my ode to the love of my life, M. This somehow made me more insane.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Part One | Masterlist | Ask | Hali’s Happy Agust | Listen Along |

“Come on,” You murmur, lips pressed against Yoongi’s warm forehead. “We have a breakfast reservation at that place we talked about.” 

A deep groan rumbles through Yoongi’s chest. It’s dark in the bedroom of your resort, the lights still off and the sliding glass door window still shuttered. Your newly wed is tangled in white sheets, face pressed against the pillow and swollen with sleep. You bite your bottom lip to hide your smile as he buries his face deeper into the pillow.

It’s tropical warm in the room, your skin still heated from the sun the day before. Yoongi’s cheeks are sun-kissed blossom, bottom lip jutted out as he pouts. You think about the night before, biting that bottom lip hard as you came around him in the shower, cold water pebbling on hot skin. 

Sighing, you climb onto him, knees on either side of his waist as you sit. His chest is flushed and warm as you lean down, dress riding up your thighs as you press your forehead to the side of his head. His hair is messy, an inky halo around him as he lets out a sound again, very close to whining. 

Yoongi smells like coconut shampoo and palm breeze. It makes your stomach flip having him this close to you, flashes of the night before making your already sore thighs twitch. Ignoring your more carnal urges, you nudge him with your nose, huffing. Sliding your hands around to the back of his neck, you thread your fingers through his silky hair, holding him there. 

“Don’t you want breakfast?” you ask, hoping the promise of food will lure him from bed.

Yoongi is fully awake now. “Mhmm.” 

Yoongi frees his hands from the sheets and places them on your thighs, squeezing. His hands are warm and callused, sparking a curl of pleasure in you as he rubs them up and down your legs. It’s an innocent touch, but your thoughts turn devious. 

When Yoongi’s hands trace to the round curve of your ass to grab a handful of flesh, you let out a breathy sound and tighten your grip on his hair. He hisses in appreciation, hips twitching off the bed as you growl, “What are you doing?”

Yoongi turns his head to face you, your foreheads pressed together as he bumps your nose with his. “I don’t need to leave for breakfast,” he murmurs, breath hot against your lips as he talks. His right hand gives you a playful crack on the ass, making you squeak as the sweet sting riles you up, your knees squeezing his waist. “I can eat right here.”

His hands are firm, fingers dimpling your rear end as he pulls you against his stomach and rolls your hips. Your eyes flutter shut at the barely-there friction, Yoongi lifting himself up a little to help you grind against him. 

“Yoongi.” 

The chastisement is nothing more than half of a breath, already feeling arousal curl in your stomach. Your thighs stretch painfully from the night before, a feel-good burn that makes you spread your legs a little wider to feel the pleasurable strain. 

“Come on,” Yoongi grunts. “Girl breakfast.”

“That’s not what that meme means.”

“Who gives a fuck. Sit on my face.���

Ignoring him is impossible. Yoongi’s hands palm your ass, pulling you forward. On unsteady knees, you shuffle up from his waist to his face, lifting the hem of your dress as you go. Yoongi hums appreciatively, slipping a hand between your legs to press his fingers against your clothed pussy. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, the stimulation jolting. “We have an itinerary.”

“Fuck the itinerary. You were going to go to breakfast like this?” he asks, slipping a finger under your underwear, swiping through your dripping folds. “All wet and sticky?” 

You whine, fists tightening in the fabric of your dress. He drags a curled knuckle up and down your pussy, pressing into your clit purposefully as he does, making your hips swivel a little. Yoongi laughs underneath you, mouth hot on your thighs as he leaves sloppy kisses, air cooling his spit on your skin as he goes.

There’s no escaping this. Any desire you had to go to breakfast with a view of the beach is gone as Yoongi nips at the tender flesh of your inner thighs, your legs trembling in anticipation. Yoongi is so good at this, making you bend to his will with just a few words and guiding hands. 

Yoongi’s breath is hot on your center as he peels your underwear to the side. You look down at him, pressing your dress flat to give you the perfect view. His dark eyes are focused on your cunt, his lips bubble gum pink, tongue darting out to wet them. His hair is fanned out around him, some pressed to his forehead. 

Smirking, Yoongi uses one hand to pull you forward, lowering you to his mouth. You hold your breath as he drags his tongue slowly from your leaking entrance to just below your clit before rolling licking back down, ignoring your bundle of nerves entirely. Your toes curl, immediately going white hot at the slow feeling of his tongue dragging through your folds. 

“Oh,” you sigh, eyes shutting as Yoongi hums and repeats the motion, determined to take his time. 

With one hand wrapped in your dress, you lean forward, pressing the other hand against the wall to keep you upright. You hang your head down, heady-heavy, eyes falling shut as you heave shuddering breaths.

Yoongi’s tongue is wicked, laving up and down experimentally as you shake on top of him. He hums appreciatively, pulling you down to his mouth further by your ass. A sharp moan escapes you when he fastens his mouth to you, sucking your clit gently. The suction makes your head spin, your skin over warm and tingling, feeling faint in the dark room.

“Shit,” you pant, listening to him make a mess of you, all wet smacks and happy hums. “Fuck, Yoongi.”

“Mhmm,” he agrees. “Girl breakfast. Or is it wife breakfast?”

You’re too busy rolling your hips gently against Yoongi’s face to shoot something smart back, lost in the rough drag of his tongue against your cunt, the buzz of his mouth when he hums. You feel the way your stomach tightens, the way that pressure in your core builds, the tensing thighs. 

The sweet, saturated sound of Yoongi’s mouth backtracks your whines, your fist pressed against the wall, knuckles popping with the force. Sweat slicks down the back of your neck and your thighs tremble as you fuck his mouth in earnest, hips flexing.

It feels hot in the room, your dress sticking to your skin, panties stretched to the side as Yoongi has his way with you. The strap of your dress falls down, abandoned as you quiver, your shoes and purse long forgotten by the door as you start to come undone.

“Come on,” Yoongi pants against your pussy, tongue prodding your throbbing hole. You squirm at the feeling, wanting more. “Breakfast is supposed to have juice too.”

Your laugh sounds hysteric, closer to a high-pitched cry than anything. Yoongi is vicious, pressing his nose to your clit as his tongue fucks your entrance, drinking you in. You’re dizzy, ears ringing as your orgasm mounts. You start to tense up, teeth clenched, fingers pressed numb against the wall.

Eyes shut, head back, balmy skin, you come hard in his mouth, Yoongi’s tongue pressed against you, not missing a drop. You feel fuzzy drunk, letting Yoongi control your hips. He moves you against his mouth, bobbing his lead as he slurps, dropping staccato mhmms as he goes. 

When you’re falling into his lap, skin sweaty and panting, Yoongi sits up, the lower half of his face shining with your slick. He licks his lips, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. “Thanks for the meal,” he teases. “I want more.”

-

A high-pitched zing whines through the air, drawing your attention to look at the fishing rod on the back of the boat. The reel spins out of control as the line runs wild, handle circling as the fish on the hooked fish runs wild with the line. 

“Yoongi,” you gasp, turning back to him. 

“Fuck the reel,” he growls, fingertips pressing into your hips hard enough throb.

The vinyl cover of the boat seat is slippery with sunscreen, sweat and a little cum. Sun heats your bare back. The burn on your shoulders is nothing to the fiery arousal spooling in your stomach as Yoongi pulls you up by the hips, dragging you along his slick cock.

It’s a calm day on the water, the only motion coming from the way you roll your hips, fucking Yoongi in earnest on the bow of the boat. Blue water glitters around you, reflecting the sun back up toward a cloudless, azure sky.

Salty wind cools the back of your neck as you throw your head back, gasping when Yoongi presses a thumb to your clit, circling slowly. The gentle lapping of the water against the hull is drowned out by the wet slap of your ass on Yoongi’s pelvis, already soaked from your first orgasm.

Your second high blazes through you hotter than the beaming sun. Yoongi growls between gritted teeth, his grip savage as he helps you fuck him. Up down, up down, up down. His chest is flushed and raked with angry red nail marks.

Fishing plans long forgotten, you continue to ride him, the feel of Yoongi’s cock stomach-deep, your walls gripping him tight as you race toward another orgasm. It feels so good, your knees slipping as the boat bobs under you, the up and down motion aiding the way you glide on his dick. 

“Just like that,” Yoongi moans, head tossed back, hair damp and sweaty. He’s worked up, a beat of sweat dripping down his tan neck, jaw flexing as he tries to stop himself from coming. “Use me just like that, baby.” 

And you do, the tip of his dick brushing your g-spot every time you slide down, working your closer and closer until you’re seated in his lap, cock pushed to the deepest parts of you while you come hard around him.

Yoongi waits for you to come down for your high, post-orgasm twitching and panting before he pins you to his chest and holds you while fucking up into you a few more times before he clenches his teeth and comes.

Hot and spent, you both melt into one another, skin sliding against skin as you lay on his chest. He softens inside of you and you become hyper aware of the slide of your mixed juices dripping from your folds and running down your leg. You don’t care, closing your eyes as you inhale deeply.

Eventually, Yoongi lifts his head to peer over your shoulder. You turn around to see that the line has broken on the road and Yoongi laughs, sounding exhausted.

“Fuck it,” he sighs, laying his head back down and tightening his hold on you. “I don’t care.”

-

“My wife is such a little slut,” Yoongi grins, leaning against the sink as you take him further into your mouth. “You love having a mouthful of cock, don’t you?”

Looking up at Yoongi with wide, teary eyes, you hum the affirmative. Dark blush creeps up his neck, his skin visible where the top button of his white shirt is undone. He looks to die for tonight, with his long, dark hair slicked back and just touching his shoulders, a white short-sleeved button up, and dark pants. 

And you? You looked nice earlier, but now your dress is messy with sand from the bathroom floor, mascara running down you face as you swallow around your husbands cock, feeling your throat tighten as you force yourself to the limits. 

You’d at least manage to pay the bill before dragging him into the palm-textured bathroom and dropping to your knees, ignoring the way stray grains of sand from the beachside restaurant burn your knees in favor of taking him into your mouth.

Yoongi slouches against the sink, his shoulders pressed into the mirror as he closes his eyes and angles his head back. You take him further into your mouth, letting spit escape the sides and run down your chin, working what you can’t fit with your hand. Your wedding ring flashes in the low light and drives you mad, loving the way the diamond looks on your hand while it’s wrapped around him. 

You’re ravenous tonight, staring up at him with clenching thighs, watching the way Yoongi unravels. Pulling back, you pop off of him, strings of spit and precum connecting the brown tip of his cock to your lips. You break it, leaning forward to run your tongue along the frenulum of his cock, earning a whine from him.

Grinning, you continue your assault, dragging your tongue down the thick vein on the underside of his cock until you reach his balls, giving a teasing lick that makes his hips cant off the sink.

“Don’t fucking tease me,” he warns. “I fucked you the way you asked for three times today, baby. Don’t I deserve to cum in that pretty little mouth?”

“Yeah?” you ask, pumping him with your hand as you come back up. “Want to come in my mouth?”

Yoongi’s hand shoots to the back of your head, fingers squeezing your skull. It’s not painful, but it’s firm, making you grin up at him, delighted. “Okay then,” you agree, tightening your fist on him a little more, pumping him a little fast. “Fuck my throat.”

You don’t have to tell him twice. Yoongi’s grip on the back of your head stays solid, a comforting feeling as you get a little dizzy from the way he looks down at you, eyes fathomless. Starving. He uses his other hand to prop himself against the sink before he drives his cock into your mouth.

The slide is rough and messy. You flatten your tongue and open up the back of your throat, the sound of you choking wetly around him drowning out the hiss of air between his teeth. You breathe through your nose, your hands gripping his thighs and digging your nails in hard into his flexing thighs.

Absently, you wonder if anyone walking by can hear the gurgle of your mouth, the stilted grunts as he flexes his hips.

Throat burning, eyes stinging and dripping tears, you let Yoongi go wild until he’s coming deep down your throat, a hot and thick mess. He pulls out gently, letting you gasp for air, mouth swollen and sticky as you pant.

Yoongi pulls you up from your knees, holding you tight as you lose your balance. His grip is crushing and he smashes his lips to yours, licking into your mouth to taste the mix of cum and spit, hungry for it.

When he pulls away, his lips are pink and slick and his chest is heaving.

“We’re going to miss that concert I bought tickets for,” you complain, giving him a pout.

“Fuck that concert, we’re going back to the hotel room and I’m going to fuck you for the next three hours, baby.”

-

Admittedly, hiking wasn’t the best event on your itinerary. When you’d planned the adventure originally, you hadn’t accounted for the fact that your legs would be near unusable from days of Yoongi folding you in half to drill into you, or the fact that the jungle is, in fact, hot and humid.

Yoongi walks next to you, his thumbs tucked into the straps of his backpack as he goes. His hair is pulled up into a bun, a few loose strands sticking to his sweaty forehead. He hasn’t complained once since starting the uphill trek through the trees and sifting sand, though you can tell he’s also spent from his inability to stop touching you this entire trip.

But you really want to attempt to get to a single thing on your itinerary for this trip, and the ruins will be out of the question tomorrow when it rains. So, you persist, legs wobbling as you high up the path, shirt sticking to you and scent of sunscreen following you like a coconut cloud.

“You’re sure we’re going the right way?” Yoongi askes, looking up at the gleaming sun filtering between branches. “We haven’t seen a single person.”

“There’s steps, aren’t there?” you ask, gesturing to the path. “There’s ruins that aren’t as much of a climb that everyone prefers. Plus, it’s hot as shit. I wanted to see the good ones though.”

“Anything for you.” 

A few more minutes pass before Yoongi sees you lagging a little. The burn in your thighs is real, remembering acutely the way Yoongi had pressed them to your chest last night as he fucked you slow and deep. The memory makes you shiver, a post-orgasm twitch still haunting you an entire day later.

“Come on,” Yoongi urges. “It’s flat up here, we can step off the path and take a break.”

Yoongi finds some broken trees that have fallen sideways to sit on. You’re grateful, taking deep gulps of water. It immediately cools you down and you close your eyes, rolling your shoulders. Yoongi guzzles down water next to you, his arm pressed up against your.

After a few minutes sitting, you get up and turn to face the fallen tree, bending over at the waist to lean against it in a deep lunge, stretching your hamstrings. It’s a soothing sort of pain, the extension of muscle a relief. 

Yoongi looks at maps on his phone behind you, waiting as you you switch legs and arch your spine, feeling a few joints pop in release. It feels good and you sigh, letting the tension bleed out of you.

Hands find your ass, gentle and curious. You look over your shoulder to find Yoongi looking at you with his brows raised and head tilted. A question. You know he’ll back off immediately if you shoo him away. Instead, You burst into laughter and shake your head, “Seriously?”

“What?” 

You stare at him. He looks delicious, sweat dripping down his Adam’s apple, hair pulled back. He’s dressed simply and yet, looking at him looking at you, wanting you the way that he does makes you vibrate. It doesn’t matter how many times you have him, you always want him more. And again.

You married Yoongi for a myriad of reasons. Because he is gentle and kind, because you like the way he takes his coffee and reads the paper in the morning, because you like that he uses mint shampoo, because you like that he has to line his shoes up perfectly next to the door. 

Everything about him enchants you, and you’re over the moon to have someone who doesn’t shame you for your carnal desires, that you have someone who matches the energy, who can take it and give it to you anywhere you want. 

Yoongi is the perfect balance, always knowing when to initiate, always knowing when it's a good time.

“I know that look,” he smiles. “Now you’re thinking about it.”

“Can you be quick? I don’t want someone to stumble on us.”

“Fuck yeah I can,” he promises, dropping his backpack and popping the zipper on his pants. You let out a pathetic sound at the sight, earning a smug look from Yoongi. 

Yoongi peels your legs and underwear down to your knees, just enough to get access to you but also safe enough to pull them up quickly if you need. His clothed chest presses against your back as he leans forward, wrapping his arms around your middle in what seems like an innocent hug.

You gasp as the tip of his cock breaches your entrance, the stretch a little painful with no prep. It doesn’t matter, though. He pushes in slowly, letting you get used to it until he’s pressed in to the hilt, your pussy fluttering around him. 

“I love you,” Yoongi whispers, pressing butterfly soft kisses to your cheek and temple. He starts thrusting shallowly, stealing your breath away. “You are my perfect, beautiful, wonderful wife.”

“Fuuuck,” you whisper. Yoongi isn’t fucking around, making his thrust precision perfect, pressing that soft spot inside of you. Your thighs are pressed together, making the fit even tighter, feeling him even more. “You’re just saying that cause I’m letting you fuck me against a tree.”

“Untrue, I say this all the time.”

That’s fair. Yoongi does tell you that he loves you. More often now than he used to, more verbal than his little utterances of love by readying your coffee long before you were awake in the morning or picking up the things you were missing from your pantry on the way home. 

“You’re right,” you pant, head lolling to the side as his mouth seeks the heat of your throat. “I love you too”

The tree bark bites into your hand as you take him fully. With the way your legs are pressed together and the angle that you’re standing, it feels like Yoongi is punching to the very core of you, making the world spin. You think you might collapse over the tree if he weren’t holding you up. 

“You’re just saying that cause I’m fucking you against a tree.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite the fact that Yoongi picks up the pace, fucking you hard and with purpose. His hand slips between your legs, finding your clit and pinching it lightly, making you squeal and twitch. He laughs, choosing to circle it instead, working you faster toward an orgasm as he pounds into you, punching the breath from your lungs. 

Sex with him is different every time. You don’t know how you manage to never get tired of it, but it never feels the same. Not with him. Every time feels like you’re discovering something new, 

When you do come, you suddenly feel like you can run the rest of the way up to the ruins, energized on the endorphins alone. 

“I’ve heard of post nut clarity,” Yoongi jokes, tucking his cock back into his pants. “But never post nut energy.”

“It’s like a second wind.”

“Dickened wind.” 

You glare at him, tossing his backpack to him. “Stick to writing songs, not jokes.”

-

“You’re so fucking swollen,” Yoongi groans, thumbs peeling apart your folds. “Cute.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your face pressed down into the pillows of the daybed, ass up in the air with Yoongi behind you. The sound of the pool and anyone beyond the closed curtains of the banana are muted by the tropical music of the DJ. All the better to drown out the sound of your husband spitting onto your exposed heat. 

“Cause you’ve been fucking me insane all week,” you protest, body vibrating. Yoongi hums thoughtfully but doesn’t say anything, letting his spin trail slowly down your slit. You’re already wet from the way his greedy mouth sucked at your chest. “Baby, please. I want your mouth.”

“Yeah? You all hot and bothered?”

“Yes.”

“Let me cool you off.” 

Yoongi’s hands leave your ass for a moment. You’re too overheated from days in the sun and the rising tropical temperature to look at what he’s doing. You’re in a slow daze, a little buzzed from sweet drinks and Yoongi’s mouth, from sloppy kisses that taste like strawberry and Yoongi’s cute little sunburn on his ass from falling asleep after letting you drive him insane with your mouth on the private balcony the day before. 

Now, you hear the clicking of something moving around the ice bucket. Your brows furrow and you’re about to turn your head to look at what Yoongi is doing when you feel ice cold water slow drip onto your ass. 

“Shit,” you hiss, grabbing the edge of the daybed and arching your spin. The water is a cool burn, a relief that drives you mad as he makes a pleased sound. “Ohhh fuck, again.”

“More?”

“Fuck yeah.”

There’s the sound of more ice and Yoongi is dripping the cold water on your ass again, making your lower spine tingle and toes curl. The cold drips move closer to your cunt until he’s directly over your clenching hole. The shock of cold against hot sends you into a frenzy. You wiggle your ass back and forth, asking for more, eager for it. 

Yoongi has never been one to deny you. This time, you feel his lips around an ice cube, dragging his cold kiss over the swells of your ass, letting the ice melt on his tongue before lapping at your pussy, tongue cold against your dripping heat. 

It drives you mad. Your fingers ache with the way you clutch the pillows, pressing your face hard into the daybed as Yoongi does this a few times, bringing his cold lips to mouth hungrily at you until it’s all he’s focused on, forgetting the ice in favor of sucking greedily at your clit. 

Your spine feels like it might crack, bowed dangerously as you press back into his face. He moans at your eagerness, tongue twisting between your folds as eats you out in earnest. If it weren’t for the privacy curtains and the DJ booth, you’d never get away with this. Yoongi is not quiet, smacking his lips like a glutton. 

Air escapes you. You squeeze your eyes shut as an orgasm bears down on you. Your face is pressed so far in the cushions that you don’t think you can breathe, your lungs contracting and your chest squeezing as you come on his tongue without warning, a silent scream raging through you.

Stars burst behind your eyes. Yoongi takes it in stride, licking you long and slow as you remain rigid for the duration of your high. When it finally begins to subside, you fall to the side, sprawling boneless and feeling drunk.

“Holy shit,” you croak, voice gone. “You were right. Fuck the itinerary. This is so much better.”

#yoongi smut #min yoongi smut #suga smut #bts smut #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #halis happy agust #minors dni #minors do not interact

[myouicieloz]

Softcore

Kim Dahyun x member!reader

Synopsis: dahyun wanted you to reminisce the old times, so you snuck out to one of her friend’s gathering, but things get messy.

Warnings: drinking. angst. reader is recovering from an od episode. mentions of drugs. vomit. mentions of vomit. sensitive content. guilt, pain. tw: overd0se, recovery. everyone’s hurting. they’re trying to help and they’re stressed too.

Word count: 2.4k

Notes: only slightly proofread

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3 | Pt.4

“I still don’t think this is a good idea.” You told Dahyun, adjusting your jacket to suppress a shiver as you waited for the elevator. Your hands were clasped together, since she was too easy to lose in a crowd, and you clung onto the small girl tightly.

“Come on, y/n! You’ve been locked up in your room like some brunette Rapunzel for over a month now. It’s time you start living again, don’t you think?” She left the elevator without looking back, breathing in the penthouse’s atmosphere.

Dayhun had stormed into your room a few hours before, telling you to dress up for a reserved party the two of you were, apparently, attending. Naturally, you tried to argue your way out of it, but she had soon looked at you with those puppy eyes of hers, and you lost it, not having any other option other than doing as told. She meant no harm, you knew it was much; it was simply her way of trying to help you out. You just weren’t sure you were ready — yet.

Sensing your discomfort, Dahyun dropped her fast pace, making a turn to pay you full attention.

“I thought you liked parties. We enjoyed going together before… you know, the thing happened.” Her voice was full of hesitation, one you felt guilty of.

“It’s not that. It’s just…” You sighed, looking around. “Nevermind. Let’s go.”

Your sister shot you a bright smile as the two of you entered the lavish penthouse. The moment you were in, all the eyes were on you, watching your every move. You knew most of them meant no harm: they were all just colleagues, curious and worried to know how you were doing after such a messy incident. However, you’ve never been one to enjoy being the center of attention, much content with staying in the sides of the spotlight. This way, you could have the idol life you knew you were made for, but still maintain your privacy and reserved nature.

Of course, said privacy and respect—the ones you’ve worked so hard to earn— were worth nothing — now. You were back to being the prey, the media’s target and scared little lamb, deprived of confidence and courage to speak up about the things that made you uncomfortable.

Aware of that, you clung onto Dahyun even further, wishing you could simply hide behind her and disappear. It would all be so much easier for everybody, then. If you weren’t currently attending that stupid party, if you hadn’t fucked up your group’s reputation, if you hadn—

“Hello, unnie! How have you been?” Dahyun’s livid tone was quick to snap you out of your thoughts. She gave one of your arms, the one you were holding onto hers for dear life, a gentle squeeze, too, with her fingers tracing patters on your skin with such gentleness only herself could provide.

You don’t need to be wary, her touch said. I’m here with you.

Being the little sunshine she was, Dahyun was unable to go anywhere without greeting someone, chatting her thoughts away whilst you limited yourself to distributing a few small smiles and formal bows.

Suddenly, you found yourself caught in a bubble of people you knew too well. They all shared the same burdens and struggles as you did, trying to navigate the idol industry as best as they could. All the people in this big fucking penthouse were familiar to you and with you, somehow.

It left you with the urge to throw up.

“I will go find something to drink.” You told Dahyun, storming off to find the kitchen before her big, dark eyes were able to process your words properly. She intended to follow you, and she really meant it, but someone had just caught her arm and she got herself into such an interesting conversation—

She decided to check in on you immediately after the conversation is over, then. It’s settled.

Meanwhile, you opened the kitchen’s door abruptly, not opting to attend the bar because there were too many people there. Too many familiar people.

You still couldn’t deal with crowds. It was the reason you've been calling in sick in every fansign, airport dropout and outdoor dates ever since you’ve gotten off the hospital.

Not bothering to care about the staff who looked at you petrified, you merely bowed and hummed something incoherent as you made your way towards the balcony, filled with drinks. Thankfully, they got your favorite. Rum was nice, and the Coca-Cola would assure your body had the glucose it needed for you to not pass out, allowing you to not be sober and make this whole experience bearable without further issues.

The liquid tasted like heaven as it made its way down your throat. You hummed in pleasure— it had been months since you’ve been allowed anything besides juice and water. It tasted like secrecy, like sin. It was punishment.

For the first time in so long, you felt something apart from sorrow and guilt. As your nerves were gradually subsided, you poured yourself another cup.

-

You threw up on the bushes for the 4th time. It was your fault, you knew it as much. You were nervous, so you drank too much. It would’ve been too much even if you weren’t on your recovering program’s strict diet, anyway.

You cursed yourself, trying to get the long, vomited strands of hair out of your face with shaky fingers. You knew you weren’t done; you could feel the effect of the drinks on your fragile stomach, which still couldn’t quite hold anything long enough to provide the rest of your body the nutrients it needed to ensure you a healthy state.

Once again, you were dealing with the consequences of your impulsive choices.

Leaning the upper half of your torso once again, you discharged the bile onto the green leafs until nothing but your reflex’s sounds came out, followed up with salty tears.

You weren’t sure you could still this for much longer.

“Y/n?” You heard Nayeon’s faint voice from behind you, “Hey, girls. Found her!”

Soon, two pairs of small, strong hands were lifting you up and holding you against them. Their touch was so strong you could barely breathe— but, surprisingly, it didn’t feel suffocating.

If anything, it was comforting, nurturing. This touch felt safe, like love.

Your sobs were slowly subsiding, and you confirmed your hypothesis as soon as fresh mint invaded your nostrils. Jihyo’s shampoo was one of your favorite smells in the world.

“Shh, we found you, it’s ok.” She hummed, still not resuming her grip. “We’re here, darling. You’re all ok.”

You buried your head against the crook of her neck, sensing how the shadows of the others came into your peripheral vision through Jihyo’s dark hair. They circled you, providing a warm bubble as they waited for you to calm down.

Which, after numerous deep breaths, you did, unclasping yourself from Jihyo’s touch. You hated to feel the lack of her warmth, yet you knew you couldn’t hide yourself forever.

At least, not at the moment. You were exposed, raw and so deep in the imperfections you’ve worked so hard to hide from your bandmates and best friends. Your efforts were all in vain, once again shining through the cracks of your skin.

You tried speaking many times, always faltering when not a sound was heard. You desperately wanted to explain, to tell them how it felt to be exhausted, drained and confused about the mess that was going on inside of you.

Instead, you just threw up on the bushes once again.

“Come on, let’s go home.” Nayeon stated, handling you around like a doll as soon as you stopped throwing up.

“She’s clearly not good to go yet, Nayeon. Don’t push it.” Sana’s tone was sharp, and you looked up to find her staring angrily at the oldest member.

“Well, excuse me if I don’t want dispatch to show up and see Y/n like that. It’s like you don’t fucking think, Sana.” The member snapped back, crossing her arms at her friend.

As much as you wished, you couldn’t muster the energy to ask them to stop. After all, the last thing you wanted was for your sisters to argue because of you, or your stupidity. Before you even realize it, your teeth were knitted, and you were shivering, unable to keep your shoulders from shaking or your body to stay still. You felt a big, warm leather jacket rest on your shoulders, as another pair of hands held a firm grip on the side of your body, then.

“Let’s go to the van, ok?” Momo smiled, blocking your vision from the scene unraveling in front of the apartment complex’s garden. “We can wait for the others there. Jihyo just went to get dahyun before we leave. She was looking for you in the north area. She was the one who called Jihyo, actually.”

You nodded, not paying much attention to the dancer’s words. Still, you allowed her to guide you to the vehicle until you were sitting by the door. Momo showed you two small water bottles, handing out one of them.

“Here, take little sips, just so you won’t be too dehydrated.” Momo waited for you to acknowledge her command, smiling with reassurance as you drank, glossy eyes losing a bit of its previous dullness. “Perfect, baby. Now, I’ll use this one to clean your hair, ok? Her hands went to your chin, to hold your head into place, and you winced once you felt a few droplets of cold water reach your skin. “I’m sorry, I know you’re shivering, but we have to get your hair clean. Just stay still for me, please? It won’t take long, promise.”

You did as told, sighing in relief once Momo’s fingers untangled the front strands of your humid hair. She murmured praises after she got her task done with, helping you to get properly seated. You waited for the others in silence, and only thing grounding you was Momo’s warm touch around your shoulders. She caressed your hair, too, and soon you could feel sleep overcome the nausea, making it difficult for your eyes to stay open. You didn’t give in, though. You were terrified of waking up alone, without them by your side.

Fortunately, the rest of the girls got inside soon, too. You felt relieved to see Sana and Nayeon standing next to each other, whispering in hushed tones as they sent you worried, reassuring smiles every once in a while. Jihyo kissed your cheek, exchanging a silent conversation with Momo before going to the passenger’s seat, which left Dahyun, who hesitantly made her way to you.

She looked like a mess: her eyes were swollen, and her cheeks were red, clearly from crying. Her hair, always neatly in place, was pretty much disheveled, as if she’d messed it up in hopes of easing her nervousness.

You knew that as a fact; you knew Dahyun as much as she knew you. You were sisters, after all.

“I-I'm sorry.” You managed to say, in a weakened tone. Dahyun’s mouth dropped into an “o”, clearly stunned, and she chocked on her saliva. You didn’t let her say anything, though, gaining confidence from Momo’s reassuring grip on your skin. “I fucked it up. I shouldn’t have had anything to drink. It’s my fault, only.”

Dahyun looked up, unable to keep the tears from streaming down her face. She was relieved to know you weren’t mad at her, but also completely enraged at herself for being the reason you were in such a state. So small and frail, like a porcelain doll.

That was what you were: their little doll, for the girls to take care of, dote and love. Once again, Dahyun had failed that. She despised herself for it.

“It’s my fault, little angel. My fault.” Dahyun gave you a sad smile, caressing your face. “I… I thought it would give you good memories, to sneak out and party a little, like we used to. I’m to blame: I brought you here, and I left you by yourself, too. I’m so, so sorry.”

You shook your head, hugging her as hard as you could in your weakened state. The van was moving too much, and you were starting to feel nauseous again, yet you didn’t say a word. You simply held Dahyun close to you, reminiscing the fun times you had: when you’d party, laugh, and be extremely hangover, coming home by sunrise while the others pretended not to hear your drunken clumsiness whenever you tried to get into your rooms. Those were great memories, filled with laughter and the opportunity of being normal for a few hours. Just a girl attending a party, for once.

You understood why Dahyun had wanted you to come, then.

“I know, Dahyunie. I know.” You murmured, caressing her hair, just as Momo had done to you. It was a cycle of pain and guilt, one you desperately wanted to end. And the only thing you did was fuck things up further and further. “Thank you for remembering that. We had lots of fun, back then. Right?”

Momo, noticing your breathing becoming quicker, and erratic, drew your head onto her chest. “Close your eyes, my sweet. It’s been a long night. You can talk later.”

You tried to argue, but it seemed as if your body had recognized the command instantly. Your eyelids grew heavy, and the last thing you spotted was Dahyun’s relieved, small smile at you, before you gave into darkness.

-

Your weariness grew heavy on the girl’s bones, too. They all left the van with exhaustion in their eyes, not a single word exchanged on the way to their apartment. Momo went first, carrying the asleep girl in her arms with ease. You didn’t even move when she placed you in bed with uttermost care, letting the others change you into comfortable pajamas as she went to her bedroom.

Nayeon left once she was done discharging your dirty clothes, too, followed by Sana, after the latter left you water and fruits on your nightstand.

That left Jihyo, who stared into your moving chest with her arms crossed, much like a statue, and Dahyun, small and quiet besides the leader.

“I really didn’t mean it, unnie.” Dahyun murmured, desperate for Jihyo to understand. She was having a hard time figuring out how to help you-- they all were, and feeling the older girl’s disapproval only made her feel worse. “I shouldn’t have snuck her out, and I’m deeply sorry. Please. I only wanted to make things go back to how they were.”

With a sigh, Jihyo finally looked at Dahyun, who eagerly returned the stare. Whatever the leader intended to say, though, was suppressed quickly. Maintaining her blank face, Jihyo excited the room, no words exchanged.

#sol writes #twice angst #dahyun x reader #jihyo x reader #jihyo angst #dahyun angst #momo angst #minatozaki sana x yn #nayeon x reader #kpop angst

[fangirling-tussisque-noncaelatur]

Got my @topguncommentbingo blackout!! 🥳🥳🥳💘💘💘

I'm so happy I joined this event, and I also had fun rereading some fics I loved, that I never commented on (shame on me). I wanted to choose all different authors and I'm grateful for all the great content creators our fandom has. Many thanks to all the mods for running this ✨💞✨💞✨

~~~

My round-up: 19 "Hangster", 1 "Icemav", 1 "Maverick & Rooster" + "Maverick & Carole", 1 "Hangster" + "Icemav", 1 "Hangster" + "Maverick & Rooster", 1 "Maverick & Rooster", 1 "Coyote & Hangman". (No-sweat win for Hangster)

Under the cut, the complete list of the fics and contents I commented on, if you want to show some love to the authors and their blogs 💞

1. art rated gen / teen

Parents!Au Hangster meme / @pochiperpe90

(comment + reblog)

2. fic where the last comment was 5+ months ago

Field Day / xo_em (@jakeseresins )

Hangster, Teen and Up Audiences, 810 words

3. fic tagged angst with a happy ending

I can see you now (with open eyes) / Saturn (@icemav86 )

Hangster, Mature, 6 717 words

4. WIP

unglued (thanks to you) / emseebeans (@emseebeans )

Hangster, Explicit, 2 565 words

5. fic set between the movies

in another life / lemqnie (@lemqnie)

Hangster, Mature, 6 284 words

6. fic set during TG86 canon

Shower / wildglitterwolf (@wildglitterwolf)

Icemav, Mature, 1 863 words

7. fic from a fandom event

Tropical Contact High / theinsouciantknitter (@theinsouciantknitter)

[event: Top Gun Endless Summer Exchange] (@endlesssummerexchange)]

Hangster, Explicit, 2 360 words

8. song fic

An Ode To The Boy I Love / perishablealex (@perishablealex )

Hangster, Explicit, 3 104 words

9. fic with more than 5 additional tags

we could blame it all on human nature / thegeckbros ( @katiesharms )

Hangster, Explicit, 2 470 words

10. fic completed in June 2023 or later

Hide and Seek with Mr. Mav / plingo_kat ( @pushthequorumbutton )

Maverick & Rooster + Maverick & Carole, General Audiences, 1 106 words

11. fic with fewer than 5 comments

Questions that Need Answers / multishippingtrashfire (@multishippingtrashfire )

Hangster + Icemav, Teen and Up Audiences, 1 393 words

12. fic with more than 15k words

Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore/ Renai_chan (@renai-chan)

Hangster + Maverick & Rooster, Explicit, 15 191 words

(5 chapters, 5 comments :D )

13. FREE CHOICE

One Glimpse of Relief / dalearden (@dale-arden)

Hangster, Mature, 909 words

14. art rated mature / explicit

Hangster 69 / tonogyom

(comment + reblog)

15. fanvid

fill the void; hangman & rooster / LonelySpeaker

(comment + reblog)

16. platonic fic (character & character)

Tapped into what once was / Lacerta ( @blendinginthecrowd )

Maverick & Rooster, General Audiences, 1 249 words

17. fic that's the first part of a series

Your everything combined / buckybraciole (@nicedaybucky)

Hangster, Teen and Up Audiences, 1 065 words

18. fic with your favorite tag

jealousy fills up their hearts in pairs / Notchka88

[how to choose one tag? "First time" was already in the bingo card, ...I went for Jealousy+Idiots in Love+Possessive Behavior]

Hangster, Explicit, 3 898 words

19. fic tagged first time / getting together

Feels Like the First Time / ReformedTsundere (@film-in-my-soul )

Hangster, Explicit, 12 532 words

20. fic completed between Dec 2022 - Feb 2023

10,000 Miles / Earthangel_44 (@yikes-00 )

Hangster, Explicit, 1 843 words

21. fic rated mature

The Road to Ruin (We Started at the End) / MadeItUp ( @gothampot )

Hangster, Mature, 4 747 words

22. fic rated explict

you're a part of the dawn where the light comes from the dark / acetonitril (@acetonitril )

Hangster, Explicit, 1 383 words

23. fic focused on a POC

You Were There / boobooblue (@letsboo-boo )

[character: Javy "Coyote" Machado]

Coyote & Hangman, Teen and Up Audiences, 988 words

24. fic with an archive warning

sunshine boy / SOBERHYUCK (@soberhyuck )

[archive warning: Underage]

Hangster, Explicit, 6 920 words

25. fic tagged established relationship

Relax / lovelybattle (@sereshawl)

Hangster, Explicit, 1 775 words

#TopGunBingoComment #fandom event #comment fest #tgm event #top gun event #top gun #top gun: maverick #tgm #top gun fandom #tgm fandom #top gun: maverick fandom #hangster #fic rec #hangster fic rec #hangster fic #sereshaw #hangaroo #roohang #rooshang

[princess-ibri]

So!! I think I've finally figured out how I'd chose to being Concept Art Elsa into my DisneyVerse. Ive wanted to for a while as I really liked her design and the more spunky vibe we got from her. So here we go!

I always try to use an actual fairytale base for things in my DisneyVerse when I can, so I've based her new backstory off of a couple of wintery stories, the Russian fairytale Father Frost, and a different Snow Child story then most think of, where a woman apparently gains a child by swallowing a snow flake--which is where this story begins:

Once upon a time a Merchant's wife, who had longed for a child for many years but never been blessed with her wish, happened to swallow a snow flake while staying in Arendelle for some months while her husband traveled. Unbeknownst to the woman, this was on one of the days when the former Queen Elsa was visiting her old home and entertaining with her magical snow--snow which had unknowingly created Life before...

9 months later, the Merchant's Wife gave birth to a child with skin as white as snow, hsir as black as a winter's night, and eyes as blue as the deepest ice. And though she was always much colder than a child should be, the deepest chill never seemed to bother her in the slightest, and she loved nothing more then to spend hours playing in the snow when winter came.

Unfortunately the woman was not so blessed, and one winter in the child's third year she took ill from ataying out with the child in the old and so died, leaving the merchant alone to raise a child he was never sure or not was his, and either way he felt had cost him his wife, and so gained his ire. He married again a few years later, to a wealthy woman with a daughter of her own, with skin like a peach and hair like sunshine, everything the Snow Child was not, and who gained all the affection of their parents, leaving the Snow Child to be neglected and shunned.

But the Snow Child had a secret, she not only felt more at home out in the snow than in a house before a fire, but she found she could control the snow as well. Sending gusts where she would and calming or increasing it according to her moods. For a few years she was able to hide her powers, but eventually her step-sister discovered her secret, and told her mother.

The woman, who had never cared for her strange step-daughter, now feared the child as a witch, and conspired to be rid of her once and for all.

The next time the family traveled together on a journey, the woman sent the Snow Child out in the dead od night under the pretext of an errand, and before the child could return packed up and moved the family out of the town, leaving the child alone and abandoned in the snow and the darkness as a storm swept in.

But she was not alone for long...

For that night the Snow Queen Elsa traveled in the storm, and she saw the child left out alone, ragged and bare footed. She swept down to save the child from freezing to death--only to find that the child didn't appear troubled at all by the cold surrounding her. The Snow Queen came closer, and sensed something of her own power surrounding this strange child left in the snow, and she knew then she could not simply take her to the nearest kind villager to be tended to...

And so the Snow Child came under the care of the Snow Queen. She was given the run of the magical ice palace where the rest of the Snow Queen's creations dwelled, where she was the most content and where she could learn to harness her powers under the Snow Queen's tutelage and watchful care...

So yeah! Thats the set up for my story for Dark Haired Elsa, who I'm thinking of calling Flykra, which means Snowflake in Old Norse according to the internet x)

I see her as being a very feisty and outspoken child as soon as she actually feels safe to be so, and a bit of a handful for Elsa who really never expected to be anything more then the Cool Aunt to Anna's kids. I think she and Elsa get along fairly well overall but there's definitely tension that comes up from both of their past trauma's bouncing up against eachother. Especially as Flykra hits her teenage years and her powers start to grow even more.

But there's a lot of love between all the family still, and Flykra loves getting to hangout with her new cousins and the Northhuldra and the trolls and just getting into good clean trouble now and then.

I'm definitely seeing this concept art by Claire Keane as Asta and Flykra hanging out now x)

(This would all start a couple of years after my Frozen 3 idea. So my DisneyVerse Frozen Franchise Timeline would go

Frozen - 1843

Frozen 2 -1846

Frozen 3/Frozen the Series - 1847

The Snow Child - 1866 (Flykra is 17)

East of the Sun West of the Moon - 1870 (Asta is 18)

The Snow Queen--1950s

#my art #disney #DisneyVerse #frozen #elsa frozen #frozen concept art #elsa concept art #my ocs #disney ocs #canon descendants #disney descendants #asta and klaus #frozen 3 #the snow queen #the snow child #fairytales #east of the sun west of the moon #claire keane #disney concept art #frozen ocs #flykra

[who-is-page]

What's the spite convention for? eyes

Anon, I don't know if or how long you may have been following me for, but do you know how I got my start in alterhuman circles? How I ended up becoming at least somewhat known in communities, what inspired me to start writing and creating content in the alterhuman community, first on Tumblr, then on my own website and in my own publications?

Someone told me that I wasn't good enough, that I wasn't "important" enough. That I could never hope to make an impact, that I could never hope to bring about change. And it lit a fire of inhuman fury in my heart that's never. Fucking. Gone. Out.

Watching Naia Okami look the OtherCon chair dead in the eye and sneer at him about his supposed lacking of any renowned, trying to frame it as something pitiful or making it self-serving that he continues to go out of his way to host this event, to use her words, "despite being a relatively unknown person in the community," makes me enraged beyond language could ever hope to convey.

How fucking dare someone try to imply that another individual and their work is worth less simply because of something as nebulous and finicky and impermanent as 'community fame.' What gives them the right? What sort of crown of authority do such snotmuzzles, with their myths on the importance of gilded fake internet points above all else, have?

I could be nice, and say that such language and perspective is because of a sole familiarity only with cookie-cutter content creations, pushed onto Naia and others due to how the modern Internet works with us artists desperately trying to appease the algorithm and similar. That, perhaps, given she is simply something closer to a television personality, it could be said she just lacks any understanding or experience of how much more important “heart” and “effort” is in any given piece than “fame”.

But I’m not going to be nice, because I don’t believe that to be the case. Because I’ve been at the end of that sneer before, if not Naia’s, then certainly others’. It’s never out of ignorance; it’s out of malice. It’s people trying to make themselves seem bigger by making everyone else seem smaller, trying to create their own little cliques with their ever-changing goal posts, trying to smear other’s achievements to hide their own failings and pitiful self-worth issues. It’s people kicking others down into the earth and standing on their back for a little extra height to try and proclaim themself a lord and all others peons. It’s people who don’t want a community: they want a narrative that they can control, that centers themself and others like them, whether that be in an exclusionary sense or merely in a greedy, spotlight sense.

It’s fucking immoral, it’s destructive, and it’s not behavior we, as a community, should ever condone or accept as okay. Maybe it’s the scholar in me, maybe it’s the psychopomp in me, maybe it’s something else, but I refuse to sit back and let someone try and demolish the hard work of a convention and disavow multiple convention chairs just because the people actually putting out the work for these amazing events aren’t also in these so-called “renowned” folks’ petty little groups, on their knees worshiping social status and popularity. 

Fuck the groveling at the altar of upvotes, of likes, of views, of clicks. Fuck the idea that someone’s contributions to community spaces are based purely on how well they appease this nebulous god “Popularity.” It means nothing and I refuse to pretend that it means anything. This is my ode to that. This is me digging my claws into the ground and saying, no, fuck you, I was that person who was disregarded and insulted for being “new” and a so-called “unknown” and I will never stop supporting people who are accused and belittled of the same, but who still create and share their joy with others even despite that. I and others like me will outlast any pathetic exclusionary, spotlight-desperate attempts at a hierarchy of experience, in both the terminological sense and longevity sense, and this is my fuck you, go ahead and try to anyone who wants to think otherwise. 

“Greymuzzle” isn’t a term that people get applied to them because they’ve shown up on television, or because they have oh-so-many TikTok followers. It’s a community term given based on what people actually do in the community, existing entirely outside of shit like having your own KnowYourMeme page; it’s a title that denotes respect and appreciation earned on your own merit, never something self-given and always community-bestowed. And people who sprout shit trying to advocate for some sort of nonsensical, holier-than-thou “You Must Have X Followers To Ride” bullshit system are no greymuzzles. Our community will never stop prioritizing what people make with their own two paws, and if I can help that in my own way by hosting a future event where anyone, especially, as Naia put it, “relatively unknown person[s]” can showcase the things they love to talk about, their art, their writings… then, by gods, it’s my fucking duty to. 

#otherkin #therian #fictionkin #alterhuman #aok #kinshaming #long post #ALSO LITERALLY EVERYONE KNOWS WHO DINOCANID IS. NAIA. COME ON NOW.

[thegoldencontracts]

Denial

A quick jamiazu drabble I wrote at 11 PM while trying to sleep. No plot or graphic content, just raw self-indulgence :D However, there is a mention of poisoning, though nothing actually happens.

  Professor Trein's Advanced Placement Microeconomics Class was something that Jamil would have really liked being in, considering that it gave him a rare break from having to hold himself back for Kalim's sake. Keyword: Would. Unfortunately, there was one thing that stopped him from doing so. And that - was one Azul Ashengrotto.

  Every single day, without fail, Azul would pester him about hiding his true self and whatnot, showing an extremely creepy understanding of him in the process.

  "Ah, Jamil, you truly do possess a wonderful level of talent! I truly am blessed to be capable of witnessing it. If only you would give me more chances to witness such beauty," Azul had said one day in his typical, ingratiatingly saccharine tone of voice.

  Jamil had no clue why the man was so dedicated to tormenting him like this. He had a perfectly working charade that made sure that the Asims didn't murder him, and yet Azul was determined to expose him. Did the man want to see him murdered that badly?

  "Careful," he replied, "keep talking like that and I'll begin to think you're actually being sincere."

  "Oh, Jamil," Azul said with an annoying and - very low effort, might he add - mock-pout. "I'm hurt. Are you not aware of my unwavering adoration for you? Why, I may even write an ode to you for the sake of proving it."

  Jamil just rolled his eyes. "You're insufferable. Just- please don't actually try to write an ode to me."

  "I cannot promise anything, my dear Jamil," Azul said. Seven, that man was so annoying.

  Every day without fail, they would have a similar conversation. Azul would approach him about his hidden talents because the seven-forsaken man had basically committed himself to ruining Jamil's perfect good facade that was keeping him alive and off the streets, Jamil would respond with some dry remark, and then Azul would make a somehow even more annoying quip about being hurt or subtly blacking him or whatnot. Honestly, it started to annoy Jamil less and less. He wouldn't go as far as to say he liked talking to Azul or anything. It was just a weird form of exposure therapy, that was all.

  One day, they were having another one of their mid-class conversations, though Jamil was only responding because he was finished with his work and had nothing better to do.

  "Really, Jamil," Azul said, "I cannot understand why you don't showcase your talents more often. This is Night Raven, after all, where no one is tied to their status. "

  How had Azul figured out why he always scored the average? More importantly, why was he shocked that the slimy octopus who knew more about some of his classmates than they themselves did had managed to do that?

  "Pick your words carefully," Jamil said dryly, "keep on trying to figure out my life story and I'll start to suspect you actually like me as a person rather than as a potential extra source of power."

  Usually, Azul would feign hurt, claiming he really did like Jamil, making some melodramatic claim. However, this time, that didn't happen.

  Instead, Azul turned a dark blue, and Jamil was actually a bit concerned. After all, Azul could pass out from some sickness and leave him as the biggest possible cause, and he had no intention of being lambasted by his parents and the Asims for drawing attention to himself.

  "Well, I- er, I think you-" Azul awkwardly gripped the back of his neck, and Jamil could see how hard the fingers were digging in there.

  Incoherent speech was a symptom of a stroke, and of dosage with certain types of poisoning. Combined with the blue face, consumption of poison or malignant potion seemed increasingly likely. Then again, two symptoms weren't enough for him to be sure. He needed to press further.

  "Azul," he said, "Can you try to finish your sentence?"

  Azul turned even more blue at that, and his hand rose to cover his face. "Hmph. There's no need to mock me. I simply wished to explain that I merely respect your talent for the sake of avoiding misunderstanding."

  Well then, Azul was speaking coherently. That was good, because it meant that Jamil didn't have to worry as much. Still, that was rather uncharacteristic, and Azul's face was blue, so-

  Wait. Azul was an Octomer, meaning he was cold-blooded and therefore had blue blood. If his blood was blue instead of red, then that meant him turning blue was the equivalent of a regular human turning red. And that meant-

  No way.

  "You're blushing, aren't you?" He asked incredulously. This was too good to be true. That slimy prick was flailing for once? " You're floundering, trying to act calm."

  "I-I am not 'floundering'! I am merely- merely attempting to-"

  "To hide your face. Because you're embarrassed." Jamil finished for him.

  "I, er- Oh, Jamil, I think we should compare answers." Azul poorly deflected, for once acting like a normal human being instead of the personification of those contracts he loved so much. If only Azul was always like this, maybe Jamil would actually tolerate him.

  "You're just proving my point. You're floundering like you're not in a human form right now."

  It was like Azul had started malfunctioning or something, because he was sputtering out like an overloaded machine.

  "Take your time," Jamil snickered, thoroughly enjoying every moment of this sweet, well-deserved revenge he was getting for all the times that stupid octopus would pester him. "I can wait."

  "You're a rotten man," Azul grumbled, finally regaining some semblance of composure, though his face was still bright blue.

  "I've been trying to tell you the same thing for ages now, Azul." Jamil said.

  Before he could continue getting any more sweet vengeance, the lunch-bell rang.

  "Oh," Azul said. "We'd best be heading our separate ways then. As two classmates, for I have no attachment towards you whatsoever."

  Jamil snickered, "Whatever you say, Azul. Whatever you say."

  It wasn't until way after that talk of theirs, during the evening when Jamil realized:

  Wait, Azul liked him?

#jamiazu #azul ashengrotto #jamil viper #twst wonderland #twst #Fluff #no plot just vibes

[autumntouched]

Day 9 of Ode to Phoenix:

Today's ode is an essay, an ode to Monica and Phoenix. I can't stop thinking about what @coraphoenix shared about what Monica said of characters like Phoenix in an interview: She loves characters who are tough and strong but who also have a softer side that is revealed through love.

I've seen variations of these thoughts throughout the TGM Phoenix-verse so I hope I'm not stealing anything and only building on what others have shared about why Natasha "Phoenix" Trace is such an awesome character.

For some reason, Hollywood seems to struggle, for the most part, with representing strong and tough women. Often, they come embittered, sexless or hypersexualized, traumatized, or in need of a man to soften them. Their interactions with men can be frankly grating, a constant one two punch of watch them all underestimate me so I can kick their ass. It's kind of exhausting.

Then there's the flip side. Women who wilt in the face of adversity, who need someone to come along and give them confidence. Or every step is a fight for them to prove themselves.

From the moment, Monica swaggers onto screen as Phoenix there is a refreshing dimension to her character. She enters already a leader, assertive, and extremely confident. Her validation comes through the respect and trust of those who work with her and her power comes from earning rather than demanding it. Not a single one of the guys ever doubts or questions her ability, and more often than not, they look to her to make critical calls. Her role is not to actualize herself but the team.

I've mentioned this before, but Phoenix's leadership is based on team-building, trust-building, and listening--all things that the male protagonists need to learn from her. She is the first to understand that the mission can only be completed as a team so it doesn't matter who is better than everyone else but how you work with them. Phoenix is also the most empathetic but least emotional member of the team (besides maybe Bob!) Her decisions are strategic and logical. For example, rather than berate Hangman (aside from "son of a bitch") for ditching her during their hop, she waits until he needs her help then reminds him that on a mission his actions would have gotten her and Bob killed. He'd be on his own. It's a much more effective lesson.

I love that in the film, Phoenix does not have to be a perfect pilot to be chosen for the mission or to be considered exceptional. Like everyone else, she makes mistakes and struggles to meet the demands of the course. Not only that, but she is the only one to own her mistakes. It's such a subtle moment, but it's one in which she earns Coyote's respect for not calling him out (when she was well within her right to do so) and shows that she doesn't have to hide her vulnerabilities to succeed up against her male peers.

But I think one of the most important aspects of Phoenix's character is that she neither is nor has a love interest. @reiverreturns does a phenomenal job breaking down why Phoenix isn't a wayfinder for the male characters so I won't rehash. The love that shows her softer side is her love for her friends, her team, and her work. One of the reasons I sometimes prefer children's content to adult content is that "love" is often narrowly defined as romance for adults. Sure, friendships and careers exist, but these are often framed as inhabiting a different sphere, an obstacle or vehicle to love rather than an expression of "love" in and of itself. So often, single women are portrayed as unhappy, unfulfilled, or undesirable in their present state. Their career is a compensation for what they lack rather than an embodiment of what they want. Maybe Phoenix does have an SO waiting for her at home. But it's equally possible to believe that she doesn't, nor does she need to end up with any of the other characters to complete her journey.

And this portrayal is something that I think is so critical to creating spaces in which men and women work together with respect. Our society has perpetuated an assumption that men and women can't have platonic, supportive relationships so it's refreshing to watch something that models what these can be. Respect doesn't preclude teasing, competition, or even flirtatious (?) banter. But the guys can watch Phoenix and Hangman verbally duke it out in their relationship without assuming that's how she would want to be treated by them. As normal as it is in life, it still feels rare for films to portray such a nuanced range of the platonic friendships men and women can have from Maverick's mentorship to her (implied) long friendship with Rooster to her competitive one with Hangman to her work wife one with Bob. Maybe this is why women in media who move through male dominated spaces can be portrayed as "masculine." Sure, Glen might not have seen Monica in a dress until the press tour, but there is something incredibly "feminine" about Phoenix even as she asserts herself in ways that her male peers respond to or reflect more "masculine" posturing.

Phoenix might not have much of an arc in the film, but she serves the crucial role as the leader of the new generation of pilots.

A lot of people consider Rooster and Hangman the Maverick and Iceman of TGM, but I would argue that the dynamic is more complex than that. Phoenix and Hangman are actually the Iceman and Maverick of the film. Phoenix has Iceman's popularity, his cool head, and disdain for showboating in the air. Like Iceman, she's the one the other pilots defer to and who constantly warns Hangman about being reckless and self-focused. Still, she has an appreciation for what he brings to the team in terms of his willingness to push the boundaries of the rules and flying. Like Iceman, Phoenix is the one entrusted with the final mission and like Maverick, Hangman is the wild card whose arc brings him in line with the team, who shows up as the wingman when it's most needed. Rooster has neither Maverick's confidence (but plenty of his arrogance) nor Iceman's cool head. He might warn Hangman about the dangers of the way he flies, but Rooster can be just as self-driven and reckless. Phoenix is constantly knocking one or the other upside the head for the stunts they pull. Rooster is, instead, neither Iceman nor Maverick but Goose. From the very obvious nod of taking the RIO seat in the F-14 to his dad's lines like "Come on, Mav, do some of that pilot shit," Rooster's arc is restoring the forgiveness and trust broken by Goose's death.

Okay, getting back on track to Phoenix. It is refreshing to see a woman portrayed as a dynamic, confident leader who is self-actualized through her own actions. Rather than emulating what has typically distinguished men as leaders, she is allowed to lead quietly and in a way that is inherent and natural to her strengths as a person. Those traits are portrayed as valued and critical to the plot and character arcs of the film. And finally, she is implied as single without every male character (or really any) hitting on her or needing to acknowledge or explain her relationship status in any way. Her career is her primary focus without that being portrayed as a conflict or detriment. And her confidence and drive to be selected for the mission come from within rather than through an external motivating factor. She is a tough and strong woman softened through her love for what she has dedicated her life to and the people she's serving with.

Thank you, Monica!!

Tag list: @melodiousoblivionao3

Ode to Phoenix Masterlist

Why Phoenix Isn't a Wayfinder by @reiverreturns - Please read this awesome essay!!

#ode to phoenix #28 days of phoenix #monica barbaro #natasha phoenix trace #top gun phoenix #top gun maverick #essays on phoenix

[llitchilitchi]

Ako je možné, že aj po všetkom tom scrollovaní tvojho blogu stále nachádzam nové veci? Je chyba vo mne?

So, I just discovered (or re-discovered? I could swear I saw that art before) the holy grail au and I'm starving for more content. Is there anything you could spare me? 🥺

pravdepodobne je to len v tom obrovskom objeme vecí čo som za tie roky postla, tento blog mám od zimy 2020/2021 aj keď som ho poriadne začala používať len pred asi rokom

! english starts here ! warnings for: violence, abuse, torture and all the stuff related to prison arc and its aftereffects, nonconsensual drug use, overall fuckedupness

as of Holy Grail AU, I don't really know how much there is to share save for what has been already said. Aeri is no longer active in the fandom but at some point she mentioned to me privately that she would like to use some of the ideas from the AU in an original story (can't blame her, I do that a lot myself)

I went thru the tag and noticed that we only ever really talked about the first arc of the AU - it was going to be three arcs in total, with the first arc (Cotard's Solution) being centered around the happenings after Dream became Sam's puppet, combining multiple POVs to address what was happening on the SMP and Dream's day-to-day existence. tensions are rising all over and Sam greatly benefits from the death and destruction it brings with the Revive Book coming in handy to keep everyone wrapped around his finger, while Bad slowly grows more and more uneasy with how things are, only sticking around to make sure Dream is safe, or as close to it as he can get. Ant has little care or say in what happens, simply following orders in hopes of one day being on Sam's (or Dream's) good side so he can ask them to revive Red for him. the Syndicate catches wind of Sam's nefarious activities and his growing power, goes investigate and run into Bad who immediately seizes the opportunity and helps them get Dream out of the fortress, which Techno is more than happy to do.

the second arc (Kintsukuroi) then focused on Dream's recovery in the Arctic while the server slowly falls apart, as the Revive Book has gone missing and Sam's grip on power begins to slip. Dream has to slowly regain himself after spending months upon months drugged out of his mind, has to deal with the initial withdrawals and the constant anxiety and panic that all the time in inprisonment has brought him. Bad serves as Techno's informant on what is happening with Sam and Ant joins him soon enough, still hoping to benefit from the help. at some point, Kinoko residents catch wind of things happening in the Arctic and George and Sapnap find Dream hiding in there. both of them have since changed their attitude towards Dream, especially after Sam declared him dead months and months ago, so despite the lingering anger all they feel is relief at him being at least alive. Dream's mostly non-verbal and very cautious of everything and everyone around him. as time goes by and he's in a good enough shape to move around and be his own person, though more docile and way more weak than he used to be, everyone agrees on Dream moving to Kinoko to be with Sapnap and George where he spends his time tending to Karl's library. I don't remember as much of the political machinations that were running parallel to the recovery. some time after Dream's relocation, Quackity comes to Kinoko to speak to his fiancés and instead of finding Karl he runs into Dream. he recognises him almost immediately and draws a weapon and Dream bolts for the exit. a short scuffle follows but Dream manages to get away, making his way towards the dojo where he knows Sapnap is so he can get his help. when Sapnap comes out, Quackity demands Sapnap hands Dream over but Sapnap stands in Quackity's way. Quackity declares it a betrayal on both him and the whole SMP and says that if Sapnap won't cooperate he will have to take the revive book by force, thus starting the last arc of the story.

the third arc (Epitaph) then follows the ensuing conflict between Las Nevadas and Kinoko, which with the tensions across the entire server turns into a much bigger conflict than it initially seemed to be, everyone desperate for the revive book or disgusted by the truth of what happened to Dream behind closed doors and trying to help him get away from the abuse. George, Bad and the Syndicate immediately make plans to get Dream far away from the mainlands to avoid the conflict. Sam, upon learning part of the truth of what happened to his holy grail, drunk on power and paranoid out of his mind takes his anger out on Antfrost whom he discovered to have been involved with the "conspiracy" that took Dream away from him, locking him away in the fortress where he kept Dream earlier. a war breaks out, people die. this arc is the least fleshed out since it's the last part of the story that never was. a few of the key elements of the arc involved Bad freeing Ant and then burning down Sam's seat of power and Ant eventually getting his wish of reuniting with Red. during the conflict, Quackity ends up taking Sapnap's final life but is unable to cope with the guilt. Karl is the one to find Sapnap's body and he drags it thousands of blocks across the server to where Dream and George are hiding. Dream doesn't even have to be asked twice to revive his friend.

I don't remember what the ending was, or if we agreed on a definitive one at all. the story, despite being about the revive book, had Dream be mostly idle through its course and instead focused on the lengths people would go for the power of the book and the eventual destruction the thirst for power would cause.

#asks #midnight-fangirl01 #holy grail au #for anyone confused check the main tag on my blog #a lot of this au is kinda lost media due to aeri deleting her socials that held the few stories and plot outlines that she shared #its been a very long time since we talked about this au orz #I forgot so much #this was also written before we knew that cPunz has access to the book too so thats something that reflects heavily in this #theres also like.... two pages of my sketchbook dedicated to some illustration outlines for this

[miaoniuu]

There is an organized network of groomers who have been operating in plain sight for over a decade on 4chan. There has been one confirmed murder, many confirmed s*xual exploitations and two potential drug related deaths. I don’t know where to talk about this anymore. I am so scared for these girls.

I made a post on Reddit about a network of groomers that exist on Discord, Endchan and 4chan and have been operating in the open for over a decade and it has been a whirlwind. 3 posts highly upvoted and subsequently removed, multiple death threats of course, and some participants saying conflicting things. Psyops, outrage, emotional contagion, politics, this one really has it all apparently.

I’m going to send you the formatted post below directly because, again, this post is being removed very fast over and over despite the intense attention and concern.

There are girls actively in danger.

——————————————————

There is an organized network of groomers who have been operating in plain sight for over a decade on 4chan. There has been one confirmed murder, many confirmed sexual exploitations and two potential drug related deaths. I don’t know where to talk about this anymore. I am so scared for these girls.

I could write a million paragraphs like I have done for years but I’m just tired, and nothing has ever come from it. No matter how many documents and and all the direct evidence I provide, it seems that this isn’t really an issue people care about, but I am not ever going to give up on these girls.

A lot of these girls are from broken homes and deal with poverty, mental illness, previous child grooming or molestation and the circle of predators knows this well, because they recognize patterns in posting from those types of disadvantaged minors and they hunt them down accordingly.

Here is the first thing you need to see. These are the current girls being targeted. Two of them are minors.

I have reported this to MissingKids, to ISPs, relevant local authorities, I have tried getting in touch with parents, I’ve tried sending this to content creators, I have exhausted every tool I have and my mental fortitude is limited. It feels like nobody cares.

From here on out, I’m listing three names of the most egregious cases, posting archives and I will do small descriptions but I don’t even know what I can say anymore at this point. It all feels so pointless at times. Some of these girls have been cyberstalked and doxxed for nearly a decade, starting when they were minors.

Ciara “Eliza” Horan - possible OD death, possibly in hiding. Whatever the truth is, does not want to be found. Please respect that. Has ties to Jet Neptune which is relevant in the next description. Her underage nudes were leaked regularly.

Relevant image: Ciara & Jet + obituary

Marky J Thompson - groomed by Sam Hyde, a public figure who committed statutory r*pe against her. When she came out to the public with this, he launched a smear campaign making derogatory and disgusting sexual skits about her on YouTube. Her underage nudes have been leaked countless times. Jet Neptune is a long time friend, a technical producer, and basically the shadow of Sam Hyde. You’ll never hear about Jet without Sam being mentioned along with it. Marky and Ciara were on and off friends. Jet and Sam are directly linked to both.

Relevant image 「EXTREME NSFW WARNING」: tr*nsphobia, ab*se, r*pe, r*cism, extensive vulgarity (I did not make this, it was written and compiled by someone on Twitter

Bianca Devins - I don’t want to spend too much time on this one and I have no need to link or compile because it is just horribly depressing and on top of that, it’s public enough to learn most of what needs to be learned on your own. There is still an active smear campaign against her happening despite her being dead.

orbiters - predatory individuals who mistake a controlling obsession with something poetic like limerence.

/r9k/ - revived instance of 4chan’s original Robot9000 board, where every post had to be an original post.

Endchan - dedicated board pertaining to 4chan’s e-girls, both active and past, alive and deceased.

I have archived the entire Endchan board, updated as of today. I have downloaded the files in case of deletion as well. I’m working on a timeline and organized document. I will be archiving and downloading every post I make to document any and all deletions and takedowns, and expanding more on this post as time goes on.

You can find the current version of the archived board here. Extreme NSFW, very long + trigger warning.

#4chan #endchan #bianca devins #r9k #grooming #predator #sexualassault #mental health #mental illness #murder #tw death #tw rap3 #tw overdose #egirl #depressing shit #depression #borderline personality disorder #bpd #stalker #doxxing #tw stalking #please help #crime #urgent #fish tank #fishtank #sam hyde

[appalachiananarchist]

The “we should take care of veterans before immigrants” line that conservatives love to spout is infuriating. Firstly, it is a false division. If a country as supposedly “amazing and powerful” as the U.S. cannot take care of both its veterans and its immigrants, is it really that amazing or powerful? Additionally, these same voices are almost never seen supporting reforms that would genuinely benefit veterans. They are content to support anti-homeless measures, denigrate drug users/vilify emergency OD measures, and promote policies that make it harder for all people to get affordable health care. Sure, they will pay the occasional lip service to “We should really treat our vets better!” but that is all it is, in my experience--lip service. The most annoying aspect of this declaration, though, is the sometimes-subtle and sometimes-obvious undertone of racism. I rarely hear this topic brought up without it being followed by comments about people who “won’t learn English” or people who are “stealing jobs,” jabs about how easy it is to immigrate to the U.S., or just straight up racist commentary. Unsurprisingly, hiding racism behind pseudo-concern for veterans doesn’t lessen the bigotry.

Long story short: most of my family is super conservative and I am waiting to see how long it will take for me and my soap box to get barred from family functions.

[myouicieloz]

Lean on me

Park Jihyo x member!reader

Synopsis: Jihyo takes you out for some ice cream and you finally talk about what happened.

This work is part of a series. Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3 | Pt.4

Warnings: reader is recovering from an od episode. mentions of drugs. reader talks about her feelings. sensitive content. guilt, pain. tw: overd0se, recovery.

Word count: 1k.

Notes: -

“Hey, Y/n… what are you doing here?” Jihyo asks, a bit surprised to see you at the company’s front area. She doesn’t sound mad or annoyed, though. Which is good.

You look at both sides before stepping into her benz. It’s familiar and makes you feel cozy, as you recline the passenger’s seat before turning to her and giving the older girl a shrug.

“My meeting got cancelled for some reason. I could have waited, though, but I don’t really feel like dealing with work today.” You explain, with a tired voice while she makes a curve. “So I was just heading back to the dorm.”

“Smart girl.” Jihyo eyes you for a moment, seeming to sense your exhaustion from simply existing. She always knows your feelings, your needs. She’s the best big sister you could’ve ever asked for. “So, ice cream?”

Your eyes light up a little, and you can’t help but smile as you nod. “Ice cream!”

-

You two sit in front of each other at your favorite ice cream store, not much further from the dorm. The weather is cold, but none of you mind; the gelato is still much appreciated. It reminds both of you of summer, and old times. Before the scandal— before things got so heavy, messy and just broken, overall.

“You know you can ask me about it, right, unnie?” You say, your quiet voice breaking through the awkward silence as you give your cookie ice cream a big bite.

It doesn’t hurt that much to talk about it, not anymore. And you know Jihyo has questions. You know you owe her explanations, too.

Jihyo waits for a minute, maybe two, before finally taking a look at your face, her strong hands gripping her own ice cream with perhaps too much strength.

“Why’d you do it? I know we’re not supposed to ask, but I just keep thinking it was all my fault. What did I do wrong? Why didn’t I notice? What if you do it again because I’m not here enough for you?”

She’s desolated, you know it, as your tears cloud your vision. Crying, unable to hide how hurt you still are, you let your emotions overcome you, just like the woman in front of you. Jihyo’s tears flow through her pretty face just like yours.

You shift uncomfortably in the chair, not interested in your ice cream anymore. You don’t look at her, either, as you answer.

“It wasn’t your fault, unnie; it really, really wasn’t.” You inhale deeply, diverging your eyes to the street as you frown a little. You don’t even know how to explain it to her. At the time, you’d been so angry and in so much pain… it was an impulsive act. One you deeply regretted.

You shouldn’t even be having this ice cream right now—after weeks, your stomach still couldn’t take it. The consequences of your actions haven’t been kind to you.

However, Jihyo wouldn’t understand. Now one truly would.

“I wouldn’t do it again if I had the chance. It was just… I got angry. And I had this pain in my chest that was going on for as long as I can remember, and I just felt so much but felt nothing. It was overwhelming. So, I remembered Nayeon-unnie had the drugs hidden in her drawers and I thought I’d take one, just to relax a little. But when I realized, the thoughts had won me over, and I’d taken just a bit more than the, ugh, recommended.” You take the older girls’ hand, staring deep in her soft brown eyes.

The guilty look on her face has not yet disappeared; you feared it would never really go away. Her new hair makes her look older than her actual age, giving her a mature aura. Just a few years older than yourself, yet it seemed like a hundred years separated you.

You thought about how much you’ve disappointed her by doing it. How guilty Jihyo must’ve felt knowing you overdosed — supposedly— under her care. Because of drugs that were so easy for you to just access and take in.

Sweet Jihyo, who loved Christmas and helped decorate the dorm on every holiday because she loved family events (as much formal as they were. She still loved all of them.). Your big, big sister, who still read you bedtime stories whenever you had a nightmare. Who never complained about picking you up from places and driving you everywhere because you still didn’t have your license. Jihyo, who tells bad jokes and falls in love 5 times a week and makes sure you approve all of her possible interests. Jihyo, who has never skipped your presentations or recitals when you were still at school. Who knew how important it was for you to be warned about wherever the members were throughout the day because you cared about their well-being so much. Your strong sister, who would always argue on your behalf at meetings or interviews so you’d never be uncomfortable or nervous.

If there was someone you regretted disappointing and worrying, it was her. It made you feel even worse, like a failure.

You felt her hands on top of yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze. You looked up, sniffling, to find her smiling at you through her own pain.

“I’m deeply sorry you felt like you were all alone, back then,” You opened your mouth to tell her you knew your members were always so ready to help you, but you simply couldn’t reach out to them, even though you tried so hard to, “But you’re not now. We are right here, with you. All of us. We love you so, so much, Y/n. And we’ll support you all the way. Please don’t drift apart anymore. Lean on us.”

She hugs you, her strong arms evolving you in a warm embrace, and you are soon sobbing like a baby. All the emotions you’ve been suppressing now flow freely, and as much as it hurt, it also felt freeing. To know you have people who love you even though you are so very flawed. Feeling safe in your unnie’s tight embrace, you allow yourself to relax.

For the first time in so long, it finally seems like things will get better.

#twice angst #kpop x reader #twice x y/n #twice x reader #twice jihyo #twice imagines #park jihyo #jihyo angst #jihyo x reader #jihyo x y/n #twice x you #sol writes #sol’s works

[yami-the-outcast]

It is late af but I am still up despite telling people I would be asleep an hour ago.

So here I am

Posting more stories. 

This has some fatal noms, so don’t like then look away now!

A short little story I typed up involving mama bear Bruno and Enzo getting himself into some biiiig trouble. 

Enzo was not one to stray far from the members of his odd family, finding comfort in the humans who had saved him from his former life and given him a far better one where he was free to taste the fresh air and flop down into soft grass whenever he wanted.

While he may have been small and prone to asking for tummy time, Enzo was not what most predators would deem to be easy prey.

Not because he wasn’t appealing; after all, it wasn’t often one got to get their hands on a naga small enough to curl around your wrist, but rather because he was of the venomous variety. One bite had most large creatures slumping to the floor as all of their muscles relaxed at once, leaving the little naga free to slither off and either hide or find someone bigger and stronger who could deal with the situation.

Some predators, however, seemed to take this risk as a challenge.

Though, the small naga had dared to sneak out for a very special reason, a top-secret nobody-can-know-a-thing kind of reason! He needed the perfect gift for today, and he was not going to take the chance of his surprise being ruined by telling anyone about it! 

Surprisingly, his venture out had been fairly successful for the most part. 

Enzo had managed to slip past various people and make his way to the shop where his target was located, slithering inside with all the sneakiness of a snake to quickly gulp down his target to keep it safe in his upper belly until he could get home and hide it.

The little naga wasn’t completely bad, however, and made sure to leave a carefully collected stack of coins in exchange for what he'd taken.

Did it add up exactly? Probably not, but there was no reason for a tiny naga to understand currency, so in this case, it was the thought that should count…

Enzo was extremely proud of himself as he slipped back out onto the street, purring to himself as he went to make his way back home, content in the knowledge that he'd successfully pulled off a hell of a shopping trip for someone his size.

So focused on what he would do when he got home, how clever he'd been, the small naga failed to notice that the sheen of his black-and-gold scales had been caught by a predatory eye.

He'd gotten used to a life where he didn't have to worry about predators, kept safe by his human caretakers and his own venomous bite, so upon finding his secret hidey-tunnel back inside the hideout blocked by a boot coming down a hair's-breadth away from his face the little naga's first reaction was to freeze in confusion.

An angry hiss soon followed when thick fingers plucked him from the ground, instead of grabbing him around the waist like so many before had though this hand knew just where to grab him to make sure the small naga couldn't sink his teeth in to skin, lightly squeezing Enzo's head between two knuckles as they brought the naga up to look him over.

"Looks like I've got myself a rare tasty treat then.. Don't often see noodles like this outside that shop downtown… And here I am, getting to enjoy such fine cuisine for free."

They laughed as Enzo whined and hissed, squirming and thrashing for all he was worth, but a squeeze from the fingers gripping him was all it took to restrict his airflow and cause him to still.

"Now come on.. I'd hate to lose the best part of one of you guys.. I hear the wriggling inside is absolutely delightful," his would-be predator grinned before sticking out their tongue to drag the naga's face over it, humming in apparent delight over the taste.

"Oh, now you are a snack I would just love to savor…," they purred out, only to make an annoyed sound as Enzo began to fight again, the naga's struggles accompanied this time by a series of high-pitched whines and odd clicks.

They squeezed their catch once more, tempted to save themself the trouble of handling an annoying snack by removing the naga's head entirely.

Would be so easy… a simple tightening of their fingers and…

Ah, no need.. It looked like the naga had gone still in a daze from lack of oxygen… eh, best to gobble down this treat and be done with it then…

Enzo's world had since gone blurry from being roughly handled yet again, and just as everything seemed to snap back into focus, he found himself unceremoniously shoved into the warm dampness of his captor's mouth. His tail furiously lashed even as he felt the hand holding him curl his lower body around their fingers.

A sense of hopelessness swept over the small naga as a thick gulp echoed around him, the thick muscle under him pulling him downwards, his head slipping into the abyss of the throat from which he knew he wouldn't return. Unlike the other times he found himself in this position, this body would show him no kindness once he was inside, the stomach would not be gentle as he was made into nothing but nutrients for the body he was sinking into…

Tears stung his eyes as he tried to find purchase on the slick flesh around him, certain his fate as food was sealed.

Then, muffled through the layers of flesh around him, he could hear something. Someone.. someone shouting at his predator and, for a moment, hope was alive again in his chest. His cry had been heard! He would be okay! 

But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, another heavy gulp sent heavy walls crushing down around him, Enzo slipping fully into the warm and deadly insides of the hungry predator.

---

If he wasn't so worried, Bruno might have been impressed by Enzo's ability to slip away unnoticed.

Six people, including himself, and not one of them managed to catch sight of the little naga as he slipped out? It's astonishing, really, especially as his colors didn't exactly blend into his surroundings. 

Bucciarati had been sweeping the streets since he noticed their smallest member's absence, completely unsure of just how far a naga of Enzo's size could have gotten when a familiar sound caught his attention, turning his worry up to an eleven. 

While trying to learn more about the small naga, a rather.. An interesting bit of information had come to light in regards to how he called for his fellow teammates. While the standard clicks and chirps for nestmates was used for the majority of the gang, it seemed little Enzo had opted to use specific calls for the older members of the group… Specifically, the ones used for a parent, reserved only for Bruno and Leone…

It was that familiar cry, cut off mid-squeak, that sent Bruno running as quick as he could for the alleyway outside the hideout, stopping at the one way in to face the person at the far side.

Their back was to him, but their hands were by their face, and he was quick to shout, "What do you think you're doing?!" 

For a moment, they froze, clearly not expecting to be caught, before slowly turning around.

The sight made Bruno's heart leap into his throat… this… this bastard… There was no mistaking the black-and-gold scales of the tail dangling from the predator's mouth, squirming and thrashing madly.

His voice took on an edge, cold and threatening as his hands clenched into fists, "if you know what's good for you.. You'll drop the snake and walk away now…"

He wanted nothing more than to lash out, but with Enzo's current position he couldn't risk throwing a punch in case this bastard bit down and hurt the little naga… the second he was free though, oh this so-called predator would learn why it was a poor idea to mess with his little gioia…

For a moment, they looked to be contemplating, eyes scanning the man threatening them as Enzo continued to squirm desperately.

Then, to Bucciarati's utter horror, instead of doing as they were told, the predator instead took a final hefty gulp, teasing the man before them as they slurped down the little naga like he was nothing more than another tasty snack.

"Ah.. Were you hoping to get a taste of that little noodle?" They chuckled as they licked their lips and gave their middle a pat, no doubt relishing the panicked struggles of the naga within, "unfortunately for you, I'm not so inclined to-"

They didn't get to finish their teasing, Bruno's punch silencing them as the cappo launched his fist across the alley with Sticky Fingers, sending them back into the wall at the far end. He called for his stand again, ignoring the confused curses and groans from the would-be predator as they tried to make sense of what had led them to suddenly gaining a mouthful of broken teeth, a zipper appearing on their abdomen which Bruno was quick to open and reach inside.

Though it had only been a few moments, the predator's stomach had clearly been eager, Enzo whimpering and sobbing as he was pulled from the acidic environment. The poor little naga's skin was red and irritated in large patches, his sweater completely destroyed, and the scales of his lower body looked irritated and painful where the acids had stung him.

The moment he was in Bucciarati's arms, Enzo cried and shivered, burying his face in Bruno's chest as he whined and whimpered pitifully.

"Shh, shh, my little gioia, you're alright now. I've got you; you're okay..," Bruno whispered as he gently ran two fingers along Enzo's head, not wanting to risk hurting the naga by touching his irritated skin, "you're okay, it's alright, they're not going to hurt you again, nobody's going to hurt you…"

And as if to seal the deal he returned his attention to the dazed and confused predator, cradling Enzo close with one arm while he grabbed them with his free hand, soon left with a shrunken and now alarmed predator in his grasp.

Usually he'd leave it at that, maybe bring them back to hand off to Abbaccio, but he needed to show his frightened little snake that he meant his words, that nobody much less this person would harm him again… so to his mouth they went.

No teasing, no listening to their feeble attempts to beg for forgiveness as they realized how badly they'd screwed up, Bruno simply opened his mouth and gulped them down like they were any ordinary mouthful of food. Their struggles were.. less-than-appreciated, his throat not happy with the scratchy clothing and the rough pressure of little hands and feet pushing against his gullet. This is why he usually had Abbaccio do this, the big man had more experience and a much better tolerance…

Enzo's sobs grew quieter as the little naga heard his would-be predator be subjected to the same fate as him, his body untensing slightly when the faint screaming traveled past his ears on the way down to their final resting place.

Bruno sighed once his meal settled into his stomach, not caring much for the thrashing and furious kicking that he was sure could be seen even from outside his body, but he could handle it if it meant the little naga felt safer after this horrible experience. 

"Hush gioia, let's get you home… I'll get you cleaned up and we'll see if Giorno can't do something about those burns," He gently hushed Enzo, who nodded ever-so-slightly in response as his tail curled around Bruno's arm.

There would be no scolding, no telling the naga he shouldn't have wandered off, no harsh words… they were completely unnecessary as Bruno returned home with the shivering ball of scales.

It was during the bath, the bathroom sink filled with warm water for the small naga to rest as his scales and skin were cleansed of stomach gunk and remaining acids, that the reason for Enzo's sneaky trip came out.

Literally, as the naga coughed up the item he'd gone out to "buy" when Bruno had grown curious and concerned at the odd shape in his middle.

Enzo hadn't wanted to present it like this, but nothing had gone like he'd wanted so far, so there was no reason to hide his little gift at this point.

So into Bruno's hand went the small, glittering silver fish-shaped pendant, the capo pausing to look over the little charm before glancing to Enzo. For all his burns and pain, the naga was only concerned with the other's reaction, worry and fear present in his big gold eyes as he stared back at his caretaker.

Bucciarati was tempted to ask where this had come from, what Enzo had done to get this, but now was not the time for such things. Whatever he'd done, today had been enough of a punishment for the little naga, so the cappo simply offered his charge a soft smile and a gentle pat on the head as he pocketed the gift, "it's beautiful piccolino, thank you. Once I get you cleaned up and settled, I know just what to do with it."

Enzo smiled brightly back, happy even as his body showed how tired he was after the events of the day. 

Once he was washed and dried, it was off to see Giorno about those burns, the blond boy clearly concerned as he used Golden Experience to replace the burned skin and scales. He didn't voice his questions aloud, a look to Bucciarati telling him he would learn more later on once the smallest of the gang was healthy and asleep.

By the time Enzo curled up on Bruno's middle to lay down to rest, there was no sign that whatever the capo had eaten had ever been alive, the sounds of a full and content belly the only indication that the idiotic predator had ever existed at all. Well, that and a few sore spots Bucciarati was sure he'd be dealing with for at least a few days, but it was a small price to pay to ensure the littlest members of the group would be safe in the future.

Usually the dark-haired man would be hesitant to let any of his younger companions close while he was like this, but given what had happened today he didn't have the heart to pry the small naga off as he laid down with him.

Enzo purred as he nuzzled up to his self-proclaimed parent, content in the knowledge that even when things didn't go according to plan, he'd always have the humans around to help him out, even if he might get in trouble later… 

He fell asleep like this, content and warm, Bruno gently cupping a hand over him as the sounds of his would-be predator being churned away lulled him into dreamland. 

#jj/ba vore #naga oc #Enzo I need to give you a surname #Smol snek #Enzo is a good boy he's just not very smart sometimes #fear #I don't think it's implied fatal but I don't go into detail? #Don't fuck with Bruno's kid #alright? #THAT MOTHER'S ADRENALINE IS KICKING IN

[lordeasriel]

Ok, this is my last question for a while, sorry to spam you. But your other two answers got me thinking. In many ways, it seems to me that Dame Hannah is the series opposite of Mrs. Coulter. Both are incredibly clever and scholarly, but they chose to do radically different things with their gifts. Where one is naturally caring, the other is naturally malicious. I could go on and on. I always liked the idea of a gee's golden langur for Mrs. Coulter's dæmon but now I have come around to the golden lion tamarin because it is often called the "golden marmoset," which drives home even more the similarities but also radical differences between the two women. Sorry this has been a bit rambling but I hope you understand what I am getting at.

Please don't worry about sending me asks, I don't mind them at all, it's always nice to have someone to talk to.

I definitely think Hannah is meant to be opposite to Marisa in many ways. Lyra's first meeting with both of them in NL portrays that we'll; she is charmed by Marisa, who is lovely, beautiful, witty, whereas Hannah is simple, modestly dressed and as far as young Lyra was concerned, she was uninteresting. What Lyra doesn't know at the time, is that Hannah is probably the best alethiometrist of her time and that she was much more interesting than Mrs Coulter, who worked as a scholar but was also a Magisterium hypocrite.

So much about Marisa and Hannah contrast; they both serve groups by their own means and they probably suffered equally as scholars given they are women. I also think that Lyra chooses Marisa at first because she is unconventional, but in truth, Lyra's perception of female scholars were tainted by Jordan scholars' opinions. Marisa has to hide behind façades to be herself and be noticed and do what she wants, whereas Hannah is content in being inconspicuous.

Hannah also represents Academic Knowledge, classical, orderly, whereas Marisa represents a visionary and intuitive kind of knowledge. She is groundbreaking in her activities and research, takings risks, breaking rules to achieve her goals, while Hannah prefers and acts on her formal knowledge, especially when reading the Alethiometer.

There is a passage on TSC where Lyra compares Hannah to Alison Wetherfield and how she calls them "good women" and she spirals into thinking about what that means in general. She thinks of the nuns in the Priory of Godstow and how they were good women too, but part of the Magisterium who does so much evil, and I think this connects well with Hannah and Marisa. It's also something I think Philman is a bit prejudiced by.

Marisa doesn't fit this modest, hard-working, good women profile; even if she didn't do bad things, she still wouldn't fit the profile of Alison, Alice, Hannah; she represents a modern women profile that fits with the anti-rationality speech TSC tries to bring us. Marisa is arrogant and entitled, her beauty is something she weaponises and she uses to do harm as well as good. All the "good women" in HDM/TBOD are rarely depicted as beautiful. Beautiful women always bring some form of corruption; Marisa's description is an ode to how her beauty defines her. Through HDM that is all she is ever identified for; Hannah, on the other hand, is often described by her mellow, soft, undisturbed attitude. She is old or middle age, and that is what we get. Because of that, we identify her for what she does, which is the Alethiometer and Oakley Street.

Anyway, I got sidetracked but I agree with you about how they are opposites that mirror each other

#asks #hdm meta: hannah relf #hdm meta: marisa coulter

[landscapesscenerypeopleplaces]

A World Steeped in Drinks | Atlas Altera - by TelamonTabulicus

Here's to the drinks that keep us going! This is a map I did with Zveiner. It features the staple steeps preferred by every state in Altera. Atlas Altera is a syntopian fiction project that leverages the classroom cliché map to reimagine how diversity and co-existence can take shape, all the while building from real but buried geographies. The point of our project is to tell facts through storytelling, because how reality is portrayed often hides the truth. For general context, go to www.atlasaltera.com. 

What is a steep? A steep is basically the go-to drink that people in different cultures keep going back to, every few hours, or day by day. It's something we rely upon for work, for more formal social functions, or just to get up first thing in the morning. It's coffee, tea, even hot cocoa, plus more! I've long been fascinated by ethnobotany. I sometimes lament that we no longer drink all the wonderful things that kept our ancestors awake or energized throughout the day. Thankfully, Atlas Altera gives me the latitude to explore a world brimful with different steeps. The map style is an ode to the aesthetics at the turn of the last century. You see on the map the supposed or hypothetical originary points of domestications, as well as the preferred staple steeps of every country. The text blurbs on the map add more "colour" in the sense of giving details on cultural variations of the steeps/drinks from one part of the world to the next. Then there are little blurbs or introductions to each steep on the legend, as well as two corner maps that focus only on tea and coffee. I highly encourage you to search up the scientific names of each of the steeps I've listed (as I sometimes use a different name than the OTL name). A mildly stimulating adventure awaits... 

Support this kind of content: To access in-depth lore and footnotes (such as the spreadsheet of detailed linguistics information/data that goes with this map), or to download a high resolution print-quality version join the Patreon! Your funds will go to supporting me as well as other collaborators of the project. Otherwise, please join the community around this project on r/AtlasAltera or Discord (link in the subreddit).

More content: I'm doing backstage-style discussions for this project with my friend, which you can watch on YouTube and or listen on Anchor/Spotify. 

[sayorei]

Puddle (an ode)

People don’t just change like that.

They always have it in them,

hidden, coursing through their blood.

Maybe I didn’t look hard enough.

When I breathe, the air tastes the same

Content, quiet, peaceful- I feel the breeze that drew me to you.

And they came like a hoard of evening dew, sprinkling my skin and filling my lungs.

I love the rain, I love the sticky feel of nature.

I love the way it clears the air, like it’s resetting the wrongs of this earth

I love how it makes the sky gray and solemn,

I love the way it takes me seriously.

But *nobody* likes the rain.

It pours down too hard, too harsh.

It floods the earth and chases the innocent creatures,

It fills the world with a musty, muddy aura.

It hides the sun and shields the wonder of the skies.

Is that what they told you? Is that what you believed?

Is that why I sit here, from a distance, seeing you collapse into a puddle?

Each moment I gaze, I see a different version of you, of them.

I miss the rain.

I miss the way it gleamed in the sun.

I miss the way it fell so confidently.

I miss the way that it understood me,

But who am I kidding? It’s just water, it’s just a puddle.

Things like that never really understand you, maybe you just pretend they do.

But I knew you- if you could go back and see yourself now,

Your eyes would fill like mine, your heart would wrench like mine.

But there’s nothing I can do.

The ever-beautiful sun presses down onto you.

A scream escapes my throat.

I try to lunge towards you,

but I am held by the shackles of my uselessness.

I watch as you evaporate, going into the sky, invisible.

Are you happier now?

You’re exactly what they wanted you to be.

People don’t change just like that.

They always have it inside of them.

But I liked to believe that our friendship was stronger than the rays which blind me.

I liked to believe I’d have the strength, the ability, to hold you back.

But people don’t change just because you want them to.

I watch you go.

#poetry #original poetry #original poem #original poets on tumblr #poem #my poem #my poetry #prose #imagery #rainclouds #rain #rainpoem