#it's like how humor is extremely subjective

[recuira]

Buggy Headcanons ˗ˏˋ꒰🍒꒱ˎˊ˗

★ — OPLA Buggy the Clown ♡

﹢he's the type of guy to follow the "i hate everyone but you" trope. the second he sees you, his heart lights up and he drops everything he's doing to go talk to you, even just for a moment. he could be heated, yelling at his crew, but when he sees you, he smiles and drops everything until you leave.

﹢he's a sucker for cuddles. absolutely loves them. if he's had a long and stressful day, he'll just fall on top of you and pass out. he loves to lay on you. his head on your chest as he rub his back or play with his hair. he definitely snores. not too loud but not quiet either. sometimes it'll get loud and you'll need to wake him up to get some decent sleep x)

﹢both a morning/night person. he goes to bed late and wakes up early. he doesn't get too much sleep because of how busy he is. sometimes the only time he gets with you is when you're both in me. if he's not deathly tired, he'll lay on his side with his head propped up on his hand as he listens to you talk about your day. your voice soothes him.

﹢he's very insecure. lowkey hates himself. his ego is forced and a facade for others so he can intimidate them. he hates his nose. he hates the subject being brought up in any conversation. when he was younger, before meeting shanks, he would wear a mask to hide his nose.

﹢i know everyone is like "buggy is a sex god and dominant and-" no. sorry. he is extremely insecure. it took him a while to show you who he really was. he lets himself unfold with you. he is himself with you. his true self.

﹢the crossbones on his forehead and upper cheek are tattooed on but he paints his face with makeup. his eyelashes are naturally long but he does wear falsies to accentuate it and make himself look more like a clown. his hair is naturally long but he tends to tuck and pin it back underneath the striped bandana.

﹢he likes things to be equal during sex. no top or bottom. as cringe as it may sound, he loves to call it 'love-making'. no fucking or hooking up - rather making love with one another. he worships you, especially in the bedroom. constant kisses and praise. loves doing all of the work, especially if you're stressed out. his favorite position is when you're both laying down on your sides and your holding each other while he makes love to you.

﹢he's a strict believer in taking care of you. pays for meals, surprises you with presents, doesn't want you working- he wants you to be completely comfortable and satisfied. someone as special like you should never even lift a finger. he has it all covered.

﹢loves to let you do his makeup. sometimes he'll be reading the newspaper while you're painting his eyes or lips. it's like he's an actor and you're his makeup artist. he can never get the lines as precise and as neat as you can. once you're finished, he gives you a kiss on your cheek, leaving a red mark. this happens every time.

﹢he's a goofy drunk, very humorous and silly. but as he sobers up, he becomes extremely clingy and doesn't let go of you.

﹢in the public eye, he acts very possessive of you, like he's the one in control. he always needs to be touching you. if you're apart, he'll send a hand your way and hold yours while he's busy. preferably his off-hand so he can still get some work done.

﹢people are scared of him for obvious reasons but when it's just the two of you, he's a big baby. sometimes he'll even use a certain voice whenever he talks to you. you tease him in public, telling others he's a completely different person when you two are alone. he laughs, calls you crazy, and plays it off.

﹢he loves no one more than he loves you.

﹢whenever he performs a show, he always gets you a seat up front. makes sure you can kick your feet up, your popcorn is always full, and you're enjoying yourself. whenever he pulls someone up on the set to help with one of his acts, you're almost always the person he picks.

﹢his favorite moments with you are when you're sitting on the deck of his ship, everyone else is asleep, and the two of you are counting the stars together and admiring one another.

﹢he loves to eat. if you two are eating together, he'll ask for the rest of yours and then some. messy eater, too.

﹢he's a great listener. loves to hear about your day.

﹢he loves to give you massages. just loves to pamper you, in general. your feet will be kicked up on his lap as he rubs them and you vent about your day or your laying on your back and he's above you, massaging your shoulders and hips.

﹢he just loves you. and he is a sweet and delicate man so treat him like one. he's the type of guy to sacrifice the world for you, not you for the world.

#buggy one piece #buggy the genius jester #captain buggy #buggy the clown #one piece live action #op buggy #x reader #buggy #buggy x reader #buggy smut #one piece buggy #opla buggy #buggy headcanons #buggy opla

[vanteguccir]

Galaxy girl | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Matt has a crush on Y/N, an influencer extremely well-known in the USA, but when she goes to the Zach Sang Show, Matt discovers that she also has a crush on him. When the two meet at a party, how will Matt react?

Requested?: Yes, from anon.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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"Hi beautiful people! I'm Zach, and that is Dan, and welcome to the studio for the first time after many requests, Y/N!" Zach began with his standard intro, the camera moving away from him and onto Y/N, who was sitting comfortably on the couch facing her microphone.

"Hii, wow... I've lost count of how many nights I've spent hours watching your show, Zach, so being here is an honor! Thank you so much for having me." Y/N spoke with a smile on her face, her eyes shining with excitement.

"It's amazing to have you here too. Believe me, the honor is ours." Zach replied, smiling just as much. "But tell me, how is life? Crazy, I imagine." He asked with a smile, taking in Y/N's features.

"Don't remind me, literally crazy! As I have Instagram, Tiktok, and YouTube to manage and post content every day, at least in one, I haven't had time to stop much, you know?" Y/N spoke while gesturing with her hands. "But it's been incredible. Over the past five years, I've loved every moment of it."

"I can only imagine, especially since you have a knack for fashion too, right? I see you a lot at events." Zach commented, taking a sip of his water.

"Yes, exactly. My content is a little bit of everything: humor, fashion, relationships, makeup, Q&A, day-to-day life, etc. I like this really mixed stuff." The girl let out a laugh when she finished.

"Yes, I think that's what attracts so many audiences to you too, right? You have subjects that cover all audiences." Zach commented, receiving a nod from the influencer. "And tell me a little about how it all started, from the beginning."

"Well, I've always been a person who loved to talk, my friends at school joked that if I sat next to an unknown person for ten minutes, within the first minute I would come up with a random topic and start a conversation." Y/N smiled when she heard Zach comment that that was something super interesting and traits of an extroverted person. "Plus, I've always liked having an audience and social media. I had Musical.ly many years ago, where I posted short makeup and hair videos."

"Wow, Musical.ly, I completely forgot it existed." Dan commented, laughing along with the other two.

"Yes, it looks like it was a crazy dream." Zach nodded, glancing briefly at Dan before returning his gaze to Y/N. "I saw some videos from that time. You once mentioned that you took makeup courses, right?"

"Yes, I took makeup courses at Make-up Forever Academy while I was at school. It's always been my favorite hobby." Y/N said, as she stirred her Starbucks coffee cup, her drink still warm. "And on Musical.ly, I only posted that, but over time, the app lost popularity, and people started looking for me on Instagram. At the time, my Instagram was pretty empty, I didn't post almost anything there, just some also makeup things. But then, I needed to change that since Instagram gave me a lot more tools to create more expansive content. It was the moment that I completely lost my shyness with cameras, you know? That's when I started talking about other things besides makeup and hair, and the audience grew. Famous people started following me as well, I remember I panicked about that." She paused, laughing, accompanied by Zach, who was listening intently.

"And my followers started asking for a YouTube channel, where I could make longer videos and each one about something specific. I thought a lot about it, but I took courage and created my channel, and it totally exploded, almost all of my followers from Instagram started to follow me there, but on YouTube the number of people doubled."

"It caught the attention of the public who only used YouTube, right?" Zach commented, nodding in understanding.

"Exactly! And I was just with this two social medias for a few years, until I discovered Tiktok, that's when I discovered that it was like an improved Musical.ly, and that a lot of people made content just on it. I remember thinking: why not? I was already fully on the Internet, and it wouldn't hurt to have another social network. The audience continued to grow, and there were shares all the time, likes, and comments, and with that, we reached 16 million subscribers on YouTube and 6 million followers on Tiktok and Instagram." Y/N finished, her face showing a smile as she momentarily remembered her long journey there.

"Your history with the Internet is truly incredible, you are one of the biggest influencers in the United States and well known all over the world, having started at 15 years old and fighting to grow and gain your own space." Zach praised, clapping playfully as Y/N waved her hand like it was nothing, her face turning red in embarrassment. "But you mentioned a subject I wanted to bring up: celebrities." He said, laughing when he saw the girl take on a fearful look.

"Jesus, what are you going to say?" Y/N asked with a smile on her face, she had already opened up her life and tastes so much to her audience, that she knew she would definitely have said something about celebrities that she didn't remember at that moment, but that Zach would bring up.

"There was a video on Tiktok where you were answering a question from a fan, who had asked what your favorite YouTube channel and your celebrity crush were." Zach began, approaching the microphone to his face. Y/N widened her eyes, taking a sip of her drink to hide her expression, vaguely remembering the video in question. "And you answered that your favorite channel was the Sturniolo Triplets and that your celebrity crush was Matt Sturniolo, is that correct?"

"Oh my God." Y/N muttered, hiding her red cheeks in her hands. "Yes, it is." She let out a nervous laugh. "The triplets are super funny, I just love their content! I'm not going to lie, I've never missed a video of them. I saw that Chris came here this year, right? I think their journey with YouTube is incredible." She said, Zach nodding as he confirmed that Chris had been on the show recently.

"They really are incredible people. Their content is gold. But, is Matt still your crush?" He asked again, looking at her with a smile on his face.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" Y/N asked as she smiled sheepishly. "Yes, he's still my crush. I mean, have you seen that man? He's hot, has an incredible sense of humor, and is kind! Just perfect, just no more than Harry Styles." She counted the characteristics mentioned with the fingers of her right hand, laughing when she mentioned the British singer, trying to take all attention away from her admission about her crush.

"Yeah, guys, it seems like if you're not Matt, or Harry, you don't enter Y/N's list." Zach joked, looking at the camera, receiving laughs from the other two there.

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The triplets were lying on the sofa in their home, each in a corner of the space, while using their phones. Sounds of tiktoks and reels echoed through the walls.

Nick was on his tiktok, browsing his For You, watching the millions of edits that his fans made for them, some videos of other subjects appearing from time to time. The boy let out a laugh when he saw an edit of himself with clips taken from the last car video, double-clicking on the screen to give it a like before scrolling his thumb up, Y/N's voice suddenly sounding from his phone.

Nick took his thumb away from the screen momentarily, paying attention to what one of his favorite influencers was saying, smiling as he heard her tell a little about her history with social media.

His smile was replaced by wide eyes seconds later when the girl's comment about his channel with his brothers and about Matt sounded.

"What?" He asked loudly, catching the attention of Matt and Chris, who had confused looks on their faces.

"What what?" Chris asked, locking the screen of his phone and tossing it to the side.

Matt only looked up from his own phone screen momentarily, returning his attention to his Instagram feed.

"You know Y/N?" Nick asked, his eyes darting from Matt to Chris quickly.

"That super famous influencer that Matt has had a crush on for years? Yes." Chris agreed, nodding his head as he adjusted himself in his seat, receiving a slap on the arm from his brother, who lowered his cell the moment the girl's name left Nick's lips.

"She knows who we are, and not only that, she talked about us on Zach's show." The redhead said with wide eyes.

"Zach Sang?" Matt asked, receiving a nod from Nick, who got up and walked closer to his brothers, sitting between the two and raising his phone, increasing the screen brightness and volume before hitting play on the tiktok again.

The video was a compilation of the show's favorite moments with the influencer. The triplets watched in silence until they got to the part where Y/N talked about her channel, also confirming her crush on Matt. Chris quickly turned his face to Matt with his mouth open in shock.

"Matt, THE Y/N has a crush on you." Nick reinforced, pausing the video and turning to his brother, who had wide eyes as he looked at the phone that had Y/N's face on the screen, a disbelief look on his own face.

"That's crazy." He muttered, shaking his head in denial. "It's not possible that my longtime crush has a crush on me, too. That only happens in movies. Right?" Nick rolled his eyes at the comment.

"It might be crazy, but it's not a lie. She wouldn't talk about our channel and reveal her crush on you if it was a lie or a joke." Chris commented as he fixed the hood of his sweatshirt, earning a nod from Nick.

"Next week, there will be that huge and super chic party for the biggest influencers and YouTubers in the United States here in LA, and we received an invitation. I'm absolutely sure she will be there. It would be a great opportunity to make contact with other YouTubers and get to know her, maybe even ask her to participate in a video with us." Nick reminded his brothers of the invitation, locking his phone screen and looking at the two.

"Are you sure about that?" Matt asked, an expression of uncertainty on his face. Out of the three, he was the least fond of parties, although none of them were very fond of it either.

"It would be great for the channel, Matt." Chris reinforced, shrugging. "It wouldn't hurt to try. If we don't like it, we can leave right away. But meeting Y/N seems amazing to me right now, and it would be a great opportunity for you."

"Okay."

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"Are you guys sure about this?" Matt asked after turning off the key in the ignition, keeping his hands on the wheel as he looked ahead, his ears picking up the loud sound coming from the party.

"Matt, it's just going to be a test, okay? It's interesting for us to make more contacts." Nick responded from the backseat, resting his hands on the sides of the front seats as he looked in the rearview mirror, waiting for Matt to look back.

Matt looked up, focusing on Nick through the mirror, who had a neutral expression. The boy shifted his gaze to Chris beside him, who was already looking at him.

Chris offered a reassuring smile, taking his left hand to Matt's right shoulder, squeezing the area.

Matt exhaled deeply as he mentally prepared himself. It had been years since he had attended such a big party.

It didn't take long for the triplets to get out of the vehicle. Matt locked the doors before they started their walk to the mansion where the loud sound of pop music was coming from.

Nick quickly pulled from the pocket of his jeans the invitation he had received in the mail that stated his and his brothers' names on expensive-looking paper and beautiful writing, holding it ready to present to the security guards at the front.

After being granted entry, the three entered the house, stopping for a few seconds at the beginning of the living room while their eyes traveled over the people there, recognizing some of their social media.

The mansion was extremely chic, decorated with golden tones and diamond chandeliers, long marsala red curtains covered the huge windows and columns that resembled those of Greek temples were spread throughout the space, along with two staircases in each hemisphere of the room with wooden handrails and a red carpet that led upstairs.

Youtubers, influencers, and celebrities filled the space, talking or dancing, some drinking, dressed in extravagant and expensive clothes.

Chris surreptitiously pointed to a specific point, making his brothers look there.

"That's Y/N, right?" He asked, earning a nod from Nick.

To Matt, the earth seemed to have stopped spinning, and the world seemed to have become static. The celebrities in the room suddenly stopped, the sound became muffled, and the smell of drinks and perfume disappeared. His breathing seemed to catch, and his throat felt dry.

Y/N looked perfect, having opted for an all-silver outfit: a mid-length skirt with a thigh-high slit from Diesel draped in synthetic silver along with a white crop top also from Diesel adorned her body. A pair of thin silver high heels decorated her feet, complemented by a silver Diesel bag and jewelry in the same color.

She looked like she came out of one of those galaxy movies, but much prettier than its characters.

Matt could have watched her from afar for seconds or minutes, just admiring her beauty and every detail of herself, but it still seemed to be too quick for his liking. Nick woke him from his hypnosis with a weak slap to his chest, getting his attention.

"You definitely don't know how to disguise it." He commented, rolling his eyes.

"Shut up, Nick." Matt responded quickly, frowning and briefly looking at Y/N again, before turning to his brothers. "I'm going to get something to drink, are you coming?" He asked, needing a cold soda at that moment.

Chris nodded, answering for himself and Nick, following his middle brother to the bar that was in the separation between the kitchen and the living room.

The space was extremely chic, a circle-shaped bar with a gold colored counter decorated with details in yellow and navy blue tiles, giving an air of wealth. At the front there were stools with synthetic gold upholstery and at the back, after the space where the bartender circulated, there was a large circular and high table filled with all types of drinks, including the most expensive ones.

Matt leaned his hips against the counter, choosing not to sit down, and glanced briefly at the bartender.

Nick sat on the stool next to him and Chris sat next to Nick, the two starting a conversation about a subject that Matt didn't pay attention to, his attention focused on the people around him, or rather, on one specific person.

His blue eyes went back and forth to Y/N's silhouette, admiring her from afar as he wished to be by her side, accompanying her and being the person she was talking to.

The girl next to Y/N and who had been talking to her since the moment Matt entered the room walked away, saying something while blowing an air kiss to the influencer, who smiled in response and turned around, facing where Matt was, but not looking directly at him, running her eyes around the people while taking sips of her drink, probably alcoholic.

Matt took a deep breath as he gathered his courage, straightening up and starting to take long steps towards the girl, crossing the room and passing among the famous people there.

"Matt, what do you want to- Matt?" Nick began, turning to where Matt was and stopping mid-sentence when he saw that his brother was no longer there.

"He's on his way to get his pot of gold." Chris commented, poking Nick with the index finger of his left hand and pointing at Matt, who was already approaching Y/N.

The brunette stopped next to Y/N, turning so that he was also facing the people around and shoulder to shoulder with her, a few centimeters between them. His hands were in the front pockets of his jeans as he breathed slowly, trying to calm his nerves.

And then her voice sounded like it was the easiest thing she'd done all day. Her voice was silky in person, so inducing that it sent goosebumps across Matt's skin.

"You were working up the courage to say hi..." She lifts the glass, taking another sip, her lips shiny with gloss and bright red lipstick, her tongue escaping her mouth momentarily, licking the residue of the drink there. "Or would you just stare at me all night?" She turned around, facing him.

Matt almost choked on his own saliva as he heard Y/N confirm that not only had she noticed he was there, but she had also noticed that he had been looking at her this entire time. A weight settled in his chest. Perhaps it was shame or lust due to the way she said that without reservation.

"I didn't mean to disturb you. You seemed quite engaged in your conversation." He made up an excuse, knowing full well that he could have gone to the girl from the moment he arrived, but his fear of what would happen held him back.

"Engaged? In a conversation about who here has the most money and fame?" Y/N threw back, furrowing her eyebrows.

Matt looked around them, stopping his eyes briefly on the girl who had previously spoken to Y/N and who was now watching the people with a gaze torn between judgment and desire. A loud laugh escaped his lips as he shook his head in denial, the pettiness of some people impressed him.

"For what it's worth, you're the only famous person here that interests me." Matt commented, his blue eyes focusing on Y/N's face, analyzing her closely. An expression of satisfaction came over his face as he saw a red color take over her cheeks.

"You flatter me, Matt." Y/N looks back at him, their eyes meeting for a few long seconds, before hers travel across Matt's face, mentally taking note of every detail she could notice in the few seconds.

The boy smiled arrogantly when he saw her eyes on him, receiving an eye roll in response.

"Do you like what you see?" He asked, his voice taking a deeper tone and his pupil dilating as his lips stretched into a smirk.

"Don't let it go to your head." Y/N responded as she scoffed playfully, allowing the beginning of a smirk to emerge on the right corner of her lip.

At that moment, Matt felt like he could do something, anything, that would make her smile like that again or smile a bigger smile. He thought of a million possibilities of what he could say to cause that reaction in her, longing to feel the butterflies in his stomach again.

"You look beautiful tonight." Matt praised, his blue eyes traveling over Y/N's body momentarily, returning to her eyes. "Not that you just look beautiful tonight. You always look beautiful. But today you..." The boy tried to justify, getting caught on his words. "Look perfect."

A sigh escaped his lips, an apologetic look taking over his eyes as his right hand scratched the back of his neck lightly, feeling like a complete idiot for getting tangled up in front of the girl he has a crush on.

"I'm sorry, this isn't how I pictured myself meeting you." He groaned, looking at the ground in shame, hoping something would surge and save him.

"So you imagined meeting me?" Y/N smiled, feeling arrogant. She bit her bottom lip, feeling smug as she watched Matt blush and his eyes widen. "I'm kidding. You look beautiful tonight, too." Y/N let out a low laugh, returning the previous compliment, running her tongue between her lips, wetting them as her eyes traveled over Matt, pausing lingeringly on his exposed collarbone with the tank top he was wearing, the necklaces that decorated his neck made her mouth water.

Before Matt could even open his mouth to answer her, the sound of footsteps approached, catching both their attention. Y/N tore her eyes away from Matt's blue ones and looked ahead, seeing the same girl from before approaching again, holding herself back from instantly rolling her eyes.

The boy realized that the conversation would change direction and that, perhaps, he would no longer be included in it. A subtle sigh escaped his lips, and he tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans again, looking at Y/N briefly, realizing that she was already looking back.

"I'm sorry." She asked, pressing her painted lips into a thin line before a beautiful, wide smile replaced it. "Text me on Instagram. You will be my priority to respond." Y/N spoke before being gently pulled away by her "friend", turning her face back quickly and sending the brunette a wink before looking forward again.

Matt watched her from behind as her high-heeled legs took long, quick steps away from him, a goofy smile taking over his features. He would definitely send that text.

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My asks are open, feel free to send requests or anything at all!! 🩷💋

#x reader #chris sturniolo #fanfic #matt sturniolo #fanfiction #love #sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #imagine #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x yn #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt x reader #matt au #matt fanfic #sturniolo triplets #oneshot #fluff #party #podcast #zach sang show #galaxy #diesel #flirting #request

[feverdreamjohnny]

The Epitaph of Anything Goes

I decided that this morning I would talk about The Museum of Anything Goes and the subject of lost media.

For the uninitiated, The Museum of Anything Goes is an obscure "game" released in 1995 by Wayzata Technologies, a company that is so far under the radar that I was unable to find any useful information about it outside of TMoAG.

All I could uncover is that they published a few multimedia projects (which are essentially lost now) alongside some asset discs (clipart, SFX, etc.). That's it.

The brains behind Wayzata are even more difficult to locate these days: there are only two main names credited inside of TMoAG - Michael Markowski and Maxwell S. Robertson.

The game alleges that Michael and Maxwell are well known in the art world, but any additional information about the duo is scarce beyond the confines of the museum. Attempting to search for either name online turns up plenty of rabbit holes - but none of them have anything to do with the Michael and Maxwell responsible for TMoAG.

This is particularly fascinating because it essentially means that TMoAG is the only accessible record of their lives. Before we dig any deeper into that statement, let me step back and actually address what this game is.

The Museum of Anything Goes is, by definition, a virtual art museum. Functionally it's a prerendered point-and-click adventure game where you can explore a bunch of multimedia exhibits that give the surface-level impression of a children's edutainment game, but once you start exploring further it reveals a side that firmly plants the game's feet into a haze of substance abuse and surreal humor.

Many exhibits are essentially just toying around with the astonishing new powers of CD-ROM. Everything has to make noise. Everything has to spin and flitter around. There's an air of genuine excitement for the medium, and I can't help but find it extremely charming.

The game also functions as a scrapbook, filled to the brim with photos of random trips to the zoo and snow-mobile rides with friends. At one point we even get insight into something as specific as Michael's one-year job as a tutor at a Chicago middle school, where he talks about how it opened his eyes to how poorly funded and mismanaged the school system is.

It's simultaneously quaint and chilling to see so much personal history packed into a world doomed to obscurity. As I explore the deeper parts of the museum, I contemplate if the creators are still alive today. It's a bit morbid, but imagine that - you create a single obscure game with your friend and it's all the world can see. TMoAG is currently the only surviving piece that gives any insight into who these two men were.

While many exhibits are lighthearted or nonsensical, there are occasional moments where the game dips into the eerie.

One exhibit has the player kill a man by dropping him from the sky, and after burying him you open the coffin to a video of a rotting pig carcass being put into an incinerator.

Other exhibits just feature simple 3D renders shifting around a dark screen while haunting groans play in the background.

While I would never refer to the game as "scary," its darker moments combined with the occasional mature subject matter definitely begs the question: Who is this game for?

You have to remember that this game came out long before the concept of "alt-games" had become codified in the digital space. Sure, unconventional digital art had been around before the advent of 256 colors, but TMoAG was being sold on disk as a game! It came out 2 years after DOOM hit shelves!

The trend of using the PC for entertainment was certainly on the upswing around that time, but It's not like TMoAG had a massive audience to find a niche in. With its mature themes it certainly wasn't suited for the kids market either, so who was it for?

At the end of the day, it's a moot question. We already know the target audience for The Museum of Anything Goes: Nobody. It doesn't have an audience because by its nature, TMoAG wasn't being made FOR someone, it was being made BY someone. It's a raw, unfiltered form of personal expression.

I think games like these are pivotal, because they question why people assume a game has to exist for the sake of being a consumable product. TMoAG certainly has the shape of a product: it features an intro cutscene, it has a tutorial, it features intuitive UX, it even has a map! These are all features that are solely integrated to provide comfort to an end-user. But once you actually wander around the museum for a bit, you realize how bizarrely its packaging fits its contents.

I think TMoAG is criminally underrated. It's not because its core content contains some earth-shaking truth, it's because the game defied all odds and cheated death.

How many thousands of other personal projects were deemed a little "too exotic" to be archived? How much history was lost these past 40 years as the digital space evolved and ate its old skin?

God knows how many other TMoAGs we'll never learn about because they weren't lucky enough to be preserved.

The Museum of Anything Goes isn't just some nonsensical art piece, it's a grave marker for so much lost media. Its existence is a reminder that some people's lives were fossilized, then macerated into nothing because a construction company built a skyscraper over them. The only evidence we have of those other games existing is this little fossil that somehow slipped out from under the skyscraper unscathed.

Even though so much has been lost, TMoAG survives as an epitaph.

#the museum of anything goes #TMoAG #writing

[ivyluvsyouu]

thoughts on the type of person the anemo boys would fall for? <3 (if you're really in the mood for writing and have nothing else to do, could you add Cyno to them? I'm particularly interested in his type too but really no pressure! It's fine if you don't want to do this request at all<3)

𝑾𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒐𝒓?

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔: 𝑨𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒐 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔 + 𝑪𝒚𝒏𝒐

𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊

I can see him falling for a musical s/o. Someone who plays instruments and someone who just loves music. Someone who he can play the lyre for and someone who will play music for him too. Personality wise I see him falling for someone who's similar to him. Energetic, carefree and talkative. He doesn't develop feelings for people very easily, so you two are friends for a while before he starts to fall for you.

𝑿𝒊𝒂𝒐

I can see him falling for someone who is the exact opposite of his personality. Someone who's energetic and talkative and someone who's positive about everything. Your personality gives him a lot of hope and helps him through a lot even if you don't know it or if he doesn't outright say it. I can't see him falling in love with a mortal either. He wouldn't want to fall in love with a mortal because he knows that he would outlive you and he doesn't want to ever have to lose you so I feel like because of that he wouldn't fall for a mortal so I feel like his s/o would have to be an adeptus

𝑲𝒂𝒛𝒖𝒉𝒂

I feel like Kazuha is the type of person to get overwhelmed easily with loud/talkative people so I think he would prefer a s/o who is quiet and only really gets talkative around people they're close to like he does. I also can't see him with a s/o that stays in one place. You definitely have to be willing to join him in his wandering and his traveling. He's a very clingy person once he's in a relationship so he wouldn't be able to have a s/o who doesn't travel with him.

𝑾𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒓

He just wants someone who will accept him for who he is and someone who will listen and someone who will stay with him. He doesn't catch feelings easily and it takes a lot to win his trust so I can't see him falling for just anybody. It takes a long time for you to earn his trust and it means the world to him that you stayed for that long and that's why I can see him falling for a friend or someone he's known for a while. Relationships are kind of a sore subject for him due to all the people he's lost so he just needs someone that's patient with him.

𝑯𝒆𝒊𝒛𝒐𝒖

I can see him with a s/o that's extremely confident and headstrong and doesn't really care what other people think, someone calm and collected, Him and his s/o would be very similar personality wise, and I think he needs a s/o who will put up with his tricks and his sense of humor.

𝑪𝒚𝒏𝒐

Someone who laughs at his jokes

He falls for someone who his exact opposite. Someone who is clingy, talkative and cheerful. But someone who is serious and strong when they need to be. Your cheerful personality really helps him whenever he's feeling burnt out or stressed from work your bright and cheerful personality just makes him feel better. But he also admires how you can be strong and protective when you need to be and while he loves you and how sweet you can be he has a strong admiration for you.

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒎 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈!! 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕

#genshin fluff #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #kazuha fluff #kazuha x reader #xiao fluff #xiao x reader #cyno x reader #kazuha x y/n #cyno fluff #cyno headcanons #heizou x reader #xiao headcanons #heizou fluff

[violynt-skies]

How Leo’s role as face man prevents him from confiding with his team

Watching throughout the entire series we see Leo constantly keep up with his role as the face man of the group

While on missions he can use his charisma and persuasion in order to get people to go along with his plans without letting people know what he’s really thinking

But he never seems to put it down

•Leos Emotional Guard

At first glance Leo’s entire personality revolves around being lenient laid back and chill, and to everyone else it makes him seem like a very open book, and that’s why the face man role works out for him

But it means that no one is really aware of anything beneath the surface. They never bother to ask because who would need to?

However, this also includes Leo’s family

Despite his chilled back personality Leo is one of the most emotionally guarded ones out of all of the brothers

Throughout the series we can see little moments of vulnerability from each members of the family, digging deeper into their emotions and their insecurities and then go on to discuss said feelings and gain some form of comfort or closure from their family. Most notable ones shown below

Donnie in “Donnie vs Witch Town”

Raph in “Anatawa Hitorijinai”

Mikey in “Hidden City’s Most Wanted”

April in “Always Be Brownies”

Splinter & Donnie in “Turtledega Nights”

•How Leo is Different

Similar to everyone else, Leo is shown to have these moments sprinkled in too but they never occur with his family

The two most memorable moments we have are shown in “Portaled Jacked” with Senor Hueso and during his one-on-one conversation with Casey

Why these two characters and not one of his close family members?

Because it’s easier talking about problems to strangers and people who don’t know you as they have no previous knowledge or connotations of you to fall back on and there’s no feelings of burden or guilt if you believe the topic will never be discussed with them again. There’s less feelings of consequences that comes with being vulnerable towards people who don’t know you well. Because if you open up more to the people who do, the risk that their opinion of you will change gets higher

Then we add in the fact that Leo is already extremely guarded of his emotions. He doesn’t want his brothers to think less of him because he already isn’t confident of his place in the team already and thus doesn’t confide in them

•Deflecting with Humor

And then the two moments where we do see little slips in Leo’s carefully constructed masks that occur around his family, which we can find in “Minotaur Maze” and “Many Unhappy Returns”

He ends up immediately backtracking and deflecting with humor, thus changing the subject and preventing anyone from delving into it further and reacting to the quips instead

“You know it’d really help me if you guys said that I was your champion.” “Just open it!”

“This whole situation was my plan all along. If it wasn’t, then why’d I ask your tailor to make me this outfit?” “So we could both perish looking super fly?”

What makes it worse is that Leo has such a habit of doing it that his family expects it, which  then causes them to believe there’s no underlying issues beneath the surface and thus don’t react accordingly. (with the addition that both parties had valid reasons for being upset with him at the time)

But it causes a situation of Leo internalizing his emotions, and if he doesn’t expand on the topic himself, then his family won’t see a reason to either nor think there’s an issue to begin with

•The Movie

To add onto this point, we see Raph and Leo arguing over Leo’s role as leader. As usual Leo deflects the argument with humor and avoids the situation. But we can see during the argument that how Leo privately lets down his guard and for a second the audience is able to see how he’s really reacting to Raph’s words. However, it is apparent that Raph doesn’t  see this side of him and most likely never really has

“You just don’t get it Leo”

Now as the audience it is very easy to draw to the conclusion that Leo has clear issues with his role as the leader and most likely many insecurities regarding it thus why he acts the way he does. Like any other serious situation, he copes with, he deflects with humor and tries to avoid it

This argument then implies that in the two years since Leo was made leader of the group, he never revealed his internal issues with it and never made it apparent to his brothers either because he hates being vulnerable

The face man role works for him because it requires skillful work in that you can manipulate people the way you want to without ever letting them know what your thinking. And Leo carries that role with him when it comes to his brothers and family as well. But this doesn’t work out for him anymore when he becomes the leader and communication becomes so important to the team. (I talk about this more on a different post)

Thus the events of the movie and why things played out the way they did

Naturally he learns how to trust in his team more when the situation becomes dire enough that he realizes he can no longer keep deflecting

But even after all the traumatic events that he went through. When it comes to the one time we see him really cry. He still only lets himself cry when he’s completely alone within the prison dimension

TLDR: Leo’s role as the face man is kept on both on and off duty as we find that he is really one of the most emotionally guarded out of all of his brothers as he doesn’t want to let them know what he’s really feeling out of fear that they might think less of him as he is already insecure of his placement in the group and would rather confide in people who don’t know him well over his family where he runs the risk of them treating him differently

Honestly, “Mr. Emotionally Unavailable” has some real competition ahead of him

If we were being completely blunt, all of the brothers have trouble when it comes to letting go of their real emotions, Donnie just being out of his depth with them and it being uncomfortable, Raph wanting to be strong for his brothers, and Mikey most likely wanting to focus on his brother’s emotions over his own as the Therapist of the group, but i believe the Leo definitely has the worst case out of all of them.

#back at it with the long winded analysis #can you guess which turtle i kin the most lmfao #they all need sm therapy fr tho #there's a lot more i wanted to add but it was getting kind of longggg #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise leo #rottmnt leo #leo angst #rottmnt angst #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2018 #save rottmnt #rottmnt analysis #character analysis

[kingofbodyrolls]

Learn to Love Again (m) | myg

Summary: People always leave. They become beautiful stars shining bright in the night sky. When life hands you lemons, you’ve been told to make lemonade, but that is hard when your soul and heart is breaking apart. When you rescue a tiny cat and meet a handsome stranger in the cafe, you finally feel yourself healing – but when they too leave, how are you going to learn to love again?

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female, mainly called pet names so no ‘Y/N’).

AU + genres: Hybrid!au (shapeshifter!yoongi), strangers to lovers, slice of life, heavy angst, a lot of sadness and grief (I’m sorry!), dark vibes, smut and fluff and some humor sprinkled in there too. 

Rating: Mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.

Word count: 19,4K

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings (general) + triggers: Heavy angst, extreme heavy sadness and grief, death of minor characters, mention of previous character death (parents and siblings), mentions of su*cide, mention of m*rder, su*cidal thoughts. Mention of past car accident. Mention of past domestic abuse. Mirrors 👀👀

Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (please stay safe!), choking, oral (female receiving), nipple and breasts play, one-time use of a degrading word (otherwise petname), hair pulling – I guess it’s pretty vanilla with a slight sprinkle of spice 🤭

Author’s note  (1): I know it sounds hella sad (and it is), but it is also very sweet and heartwarming too 💜 I wanted to venture into the darker stuff again, and embrace all the feelings and sadness that I felt a few weeks ago (I’m fine, well I’m getting through it at least). 

If you are triggered by any of the warnings, I suggest that you skip this. It’s not that explicit though, but the heavy subjects are still there and they feature in it a lot.

Also, the quote “people always leave” features a lot in this and I only now realize why I find it so familiar – it’s a famous quote from Peyton Sawyer from One Tree Hill.

Author's note  (2): It’s only partly edited, so I’m so sorry about any mistakes or weird wordings (English is also not my mother language). When I read it again, I felt sad and like the whole thing is crap (why do I also feel like this adgadfjkhs), BUT, I still like it, it’s a piece of my heart in there… I can’t just let it sit in my docs to collect dust. So – I’ll just post it early and never look at the thing again (expect for the cover, because damn I’m so happy with how that turned out 🥹).

Taglist: @keshiadeija @viankiss @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad If you prefer to read on AO3 you can also find it there 🙂

The heavens are weeping again, unleashing a torrential downpour that drums heavy on the windows. Just like the heavy beating of your heart and the tears that just won’t stop falling down your cheeks.

For days now, the world has languished in this disquiet, a foreboding atmosphere that has draped itself over every moment, casting a shadow even before the haunting ring of the call that echoed through the silence.

A searing, heart-wrenching call that etched itself into the fabric of your existence, standing out as one of the most agonizing moments life has ever dared to deliver.

Caught off guard by the unexpected twist of fate, it blindsided you, sending shockwaves through your core and leaving you utterly rattled, as if the very ground beneath your feet had shifted without warning.

Your conviction in her well-being crumbled as swiftly as a sandcastle against the tide.

In your last encounter, she radiated joy—her infectious happiness casting a brilliant glow over her words as she spoke about her new job, her blossoming romance, and her boundless love for life.

A tear, heavy with the weight of the contrast between then and now, traces a lonely path down your cheek.

The echo of her laughter, the sparkle in her eyes, and the unbridled excitement that made her hands tremble with anticipation haunted your memories. 

It's a heart-wrenching juxtaposition between the happiness she projected and the sorrow now etched into the fabric of your own emotions.

She wasn't just a friend; she was your confidante, a steadfast companion through the labyrinth of years and experiences. Your best friend.

In the tapestry of your friendship, she emerged as the resplendent thread, the one who consistently outshone the rest. 

Even on her darkest days, she radiated a brilliance that surpassed the ordinary, a celestial glow that left an indelible mark on your heart. To you, she wasn't just a friend; she was a luminous star, a breathtaking celestial entity whose untimely descent felt like a cosmic supernova, casting a blinding light that left everyone in its wake awestruck and forever changed.

Like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, the day she chose to end her own life blindsided everyone. 

The abruptness of her decision, the finality of calling it quits, left a haunting question echoing in the hollow chambers of your soul—why? 

The puzzle remains unsolved, the enigma of her despair a perplexing maze you can't navigate. Outwardly, her life seemed like a canvas painted in hues of contentment, yet the invisible struggles eluded comprehension. 

Despite the deep conversations that usually wove through the tapestry of your friendship, the darkness she harbored never surfaced in her words. Her choice to shroud her pain in silence remains an unfathomable mystery, a tragic paradox that still elicits a profound sense of bewilderment.

The haunting ‘what if’ lingers, an elusive specter of regret—what if she had shared her struggles with you? 

The possibility that your words could have been a lifeline is an uncharted sea of sorrow. The uncertainty, the unfulfilled potential for intervention, claws at your conscience like a relentless tempest.

In the wake of this unanswered plea for connection, tears cascade down your cheeks, each drop bearing the weight of unspoken conversations. The dampness on your collarbone, where your shirt clings uncomfortably, is a tangible reminder of the storm within. 

A mere few days have crawled by since that fateful call, the kind that alters the very fabric of reality. 

The echo of your friend's voice reverberates through your memory—a seismic revelation that shattered your world. As the words unfolded, you crumpled to the floor, the phone nearly slipping from your trembling grasp.

A gasp caught in your throat, a palpable surge of emotion crashing over you like a tidal wave.

In that harrowing moment, your heartbeat quickened, each thud resonating with the weight of sorrow and anger. The air itself seemed to constrict, tainted with the bitter aftertaste of an impending storm. The onslaught of emotions clawed at your chest, a tumultuous dance between sadness and anger, each one vying for dominance in the chaotic symphony of your soul.

Powerlessness wraps around you like a suffocating shroud, the absence of your brightest star leaving a void that seems insurmountable. 

In this moment of staggering loss, the future unfolds as a vast expanse of uncertainty. How do you navigate a world without the radiant glow she once brought to your existence?

Yet, as the weight of grief presses down, a resilient ember flickers within. Acknowledging the inexorable march of time, you realize that her memory, like a cherished constellation, will be a guiding light in the night sky of your life. 

In the tapestry of your emotions, she, alongside your parents, becomes one of the celestial beacons you look up to during moments of sorrow or when life's burdens become too overwhelming.

You step out onto the balcony, enveloped by the velvety embrace of the dark blue sky. 

The resplendent moon takes center stage, surrounded by a constellation of bright companions that twinkle in the vast expanse of the night. The beauty of the cosmos is a bittersweet solace, a celestial dance that captivates your gaze.

The night sky has always held a captivating allure for you, but in the wake of the profound loss of your parents, it transcends mere beauty. 

It becomes a sanctuary, a cosmic tapestry where memories linger among the stars. Each celestial beacon now carries the weight of cherished moments, transforming the night into a sacred canvas where the brilliance of your loved ones continues to shine, casting a radiant glow that lingers in the quiet moments of contemplation.

The subtle hum of your phone reverberates in your hand, a clandestine messenger that disrupts the tranquility of your thoughts, setting loose a cascade of emotions. 

The screen lights up with a message from a friend, its arrival like a seismic tremor in the landscape of your contemplations, shaking loose the delicate balance you've tried so desperately to maintain.

Yuna [20.31]: Iseul’s funeral is on Saturday. We’re all going. U coming?🌹

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach like a heavy anchor – the thought of attending the funeral feels like navigating a tempest of emotions you're not sure you're prepared to weather. 

The prospect of confronting tears, raw emotion, and the grieving presence of her family looms before you, casting a shadow over the already somber occasion. 

Yet, duty intertwines with reluctance; you were her best friend, after all. 

The expectation to pay your respects becomes an unspoken mandate, tugging at the seams of your resolve despite the storm of discomfort that brews within.

Tears have become an unwelcome torrent on your phone, transforming the smooth surface into a slippery terrain that complicates every attempt to type. 

The screen blurs beneath a watery veil, mirroring the tumultuous cascade in your own eyes. Distraction clings to each droplet, making it not only challenging to navigate the phone but also to see through the emotional downpour that clouds your vision.

But against the deluge of sorrow and the weight of grief, you summon the strength for a brief reply, a fragile lifeline tossed into the turbulent sea of emotions.

You [20.46]: Yes🌹

With a heavy sigh, you gently lay your phone face-down on the nightstand, as if shielding the illuminated screen from the weight of the world you've just momentarily set aside.

How do you navigate this desolate landscape that life has become? 

The void feels more palpable now, a haunting echo of emptiness that had lingered even before.

It's as if the very essence of existence has been drained away, leaving you grappling with the profound question: What is the point when the world around you continues to crumble, and people around you just keep dying?

At Iseul's funeral, you navigated the somber scene alongside your friend group, bracing for the emotional maelstrom that awaited. 

The atmosphere unfolded exactly as you had anticipated — a tableau of tears, grief-stricken family members, and the embrace of mournful hugs. Conversations echoed with memories of Iseul's radiant spirit, each word a bittersweet tribute to the bright and bubbly soul that once graced your lives. 

Amidst the collective sorrow, the air hung heavy with the weight of loss, weaving a tapestry of emotions that spoke to the indelible impact Iseul had left behind.

It was agonizing, bidding farewell in the harsh reality of acceptance. The harsh truth of life unveiled itself – an unrelenting cycle of departures. 

Yet, amidst the crushing finality, you find solace in the enduring promise that even though everyone leaves, the stars above will forever bear witness to her presence, a cosmic constellation of memories that will continue to illuminate the canvas of your nights.

Work persists in its mundane rhythm, the monotony punctuated only by the forced smiles you offer customers as you brew their coffee or recommend delectable treats in the cafe. 

For you, work has forever remained a sterile landscape, devoid of passion or purpose. The unfulfilled yearning for a meaningful career tugs at the edges of your consciousness, a persistent ache exacerbated by life's unrelenting cruelty—your unfinished degree in astrophysics stands as a testament to dreams deferred. Maybe you’ll go back to school – you don’t know.

Your thoughts are abruptly shattered by a brash intrusion, a man’s voice slicing through the ambient noise with an unwarranted familiarity. “Hi, pretty,” he drawls, snapping your attention to the present, “can I get a black coffee, a muffin, and your number, please?” 

The audacious request hangs in the air, leaving a charged pause that crackles with a blend of amusement and annoyance.

You stifle a silent scoff, a careful veil to conceal the simmering irritation within, though the indignation is palpable. 

This flirtatious interlude is far from novel—far from the first time someone has attempted to weave charm into the fabric of your workday. Yet, a discomforting truth lingers beneath your composed exterior: you disdain these unwarranted advances, a sentiment you've carried with you each time such encounters stain the ordinary canvas of your work.

Forcing a smile that feels more like a fragile mask, you locate a muffin, navigating the familiar routine with practiced efficiency. 

As you approach the coffee machine to craft the requested brew, you gather both items and, with a subtle sigh, slide them across the counter. 

Your words, delivered with a polite cadence, carry a hint of firmness as you say, “Here you go. Apologies, but my number isn't on the menu.”

Turning men down has become a skill honed through the crucible of experience, a necessity etched into the fabric of your being, especially after the wreckage of your last relationship. 

It wasn't just a breakup; it was a tempest that left you bruised, not only on the surface but also in the recesses of your soul. 

To declare a dread of relationships, despite the quiet longing that flickers deep within, would be an understatement—the mere thought evokes the echoes of a tumultuous past, a cautionary tale etched in both physical and emotional hues of black and blue.

Despite the man's disapproving frown, he begrudgingly parts with his payment, snatching his coffee and muffin.

As he vacates the space, you extend a tight-lipped greeting to the next customer, the forced smile a delicate masquerade concealing the intricacies of emotion churning beneath the surface.

Day after day unfolds in this relentless routine, a relentless loop where, despite the suffocating weight of depression, you muster the strength to haul yourself into work. 

The struggle is an unspoken battle, fought in the silent recesses of your soul, and each morning becomes a victory against the persistent darkness that threatens to engulf your spirit.

You maintain a lifeline to your friends, weaving a narrative of your somber mood and emotional tumult, acutely aware of the significance of vocalizing your feelings rather than succumbing to the perilous grip of silent suffering.

Recent conversations with your friends have taken an unexpected turn, steering into the realm of your dating life or, more accurately, its conspicuous absence. 

Their fervent advocacy for you to reenter the world of romance echoes in your ears, their well-intentioned pleas urging you to cross paths with someone great and amazing. 

However, you find yourself standing at the crossroads of uncertainty, unsure if you're ready to navigate the labyrinth of love once more. 

Despite your reservations, you indulge them, allowing their words to wash over you like a waterfall of unsolicited advice, all the while steadfast in your understanding that a man is not a prerequisite for happiness or the completeness of your life—you've long recognized your ability to stand firm and flourish on your own terms.

An entire season has unfurled its tapestry, and while the vast void persists within the caverns of your heart, there's a subtle transformation underway. Amidst the lingering shadows, a sliver of the sun's warm rays threads its way through, gently illuminating the emptiness. 

The caress of warm weather and sunlight manages to coax a faint lift in your mood, a subtle thawing of the emotional frost. 

Yet, amidst the burgeoning warmth, there's a yearning for the crispness of cold, the kind that invites the comfort of wool sweaters and socks, beckoning a desire to cocoon on the couch and lose yourself in the embrace of solitude.

After withstanding the relentless onslaught of your friends' persistent prodding into the realm of your love life, you've yielded to the chorus of their well-meaning badgering. With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, you've made the bold decision to reenter the intricate dance of the dating game.

The prospect of discovering 'the one' remains shrouded in uncertainty, a delicate balance between the promise of profound connection and the potential peril of heartache from those who might not treat you right. 

However, the ambiguity of the journey doesn't deter your resolve. To remain passive is to forfeit the chance at something extraordinary. 

The echoes of Iseul and the silent encouragement from your departed parents reverberate, urging you to embrace life with all its intricate hues. Their unwritten wish for your happiness becomes the compass guiding your path, compelling you to take the plunge and give it your all.

You yearn for a life where the pursuit of happiness isn't punctuated by the haunting inevitability of departures and loss. You grasp the harsh truth that people leaving or departing through death is an inescapable facet of existence, a relentless current in the river of life. 

Yet, the recurring tide of sorrow that washes over you each time someone departs feels burdensome, a weight that anchors your spirit. It would be a cherished reprieve if the ebb and flow of life's transitions didn't carry with it a relentless undertow that threatens to drag you down each time.

Your dating escapades have unfolded like a series of misadventures, each rendezvous more perplexing than the last. 

One suitor wielded an aggressive tone that eclipsed any potential connection, while another was so absorbed in self-interest that your voice seemed but an echo in the conversation. Then there was the one who sought solace in your company to mend a broken heart, an unwitting participant in their quest for emotional repair.

With every disappointing encounter, your hopes wane like the dying embers of a once-bright flame. Yet, undeterred, you persist in the pursuit of connection, a resilient soul navigating the unpredictable seas of dating with unwavering determination.

Amidst the tumultuous sea of advice from your friends, the suggestion of a night out clubbing emerges as a potential remedy to jumpstart your dating life—a one-night stand, a shortcut to reclaiming agency over your love life. 

However, the proposition fails to align with the essence of who you are. The neon-lit allure of the club scene doesn't resonate with your soul, and the idea of a fleeting encounter doesn't hold the promise you seek. 

Nonetheless, you find yourself engulfed in a pulsating sea of sound, the music in the club roaring, the bass reverberating through the floor and into your bones. 

The atmosphere is a maelstrom of heat and sweat, a suffocating embrace that intensifies your regret for being there. 

Yuna, exuding an air of confidence, takes charge and orders a round of drinks for the group. Meanwhile, Nari's eyes scan the lively chaos of the club, a vigilant matchmaker on a mission to uncover potential matches for you.

Her finger extends with a pointed certainty toward a mysterious figure—a dark-haired man sporting a sleeveless shirt, the canvas of his arm adorned with an intricate tattoo sleeve. His dark eyes, scanning the crowded expanse of the club, carry an enigmatic intensity, hinting at a captivating allure that goes beyond the surface.

Your laughter carries a blend of amusement and skepticism as you dismissively remark, “Nah, he's giving off major fuckboy vibes.”

Amidst the cacophony of pounding music in the club, Nari practically shouts in your face, her words punctuating the beat as she insists, “Maybe that's exactly what you need!” 

The intensity of her proclamation, a fervent plea for spontaneity, reverberates in the air, a challenge thrown into the whirlwind of the night's possibilities.

You shake your head, a firm yet polite rejection lingering on your lips, “No, thank you.” 

Just as the tension subsides, Yuna appears with a tray of drinks, a timely distraction. Gratefully, you accept your drink, savoring the sweet and sour concoction that dances across your palate, momentarily providing respite from the charged atmosphere of the club.

The night unfolds in a rhythm of measured indulgence—a few drinks to chase a gentle buzz, steering clear of the edge of intoxication. Your gaze scans the crowd in search of potential matches, but amidst the pulsating lights and swirling music, none captures the elusive spark that ignites a genuine interest.

As the night deepens and the rhythm of the club starts to fade, you bid farewell to your friends, the weight of the evening settling in your bones. 

Stepping out into the nocturnal air, you're greeted by the relentless cascade of rain, a torrential downpour that catches you off guard. Damn it, you realize, a surge of annoyance coursing through you, you didn't bring an umbrella.

Embracing a sudden burst of defiance, you make a split-second decision, a resolute ‘fuck it’ echoing in your mind. 

Stepping onto the sidewalk without the shelter of an umbrella, you surrender to the unrelenting rain. In mere moments, your hair clings to your skin, and your clothes succumb to the downpour.

As you navigate the labyrinth of alleys and pass by numerous apartments, a peculiar low noise infiltrates the ambient hum of the rain. What is that sound? 

It's a subtle yet persistent calling that arrests your movements, compelling you to strain your senses in an attempt to decipher its origin. 

It's not just your slightly tipsy mind, is it, playing tricks on you? 

The cadence of the noise feels like a desperate plea, an ethereal call for help that beckons you into a mysterious dance between reality and the unknown.

Undeterred by the absence of street lamps, you navigate a shadowy alleyway nestled between looming apartment complexes. The darkness cloaks the path ahead, but you press on, an intrepid explorer drawn to the mystery that lies beyond the veil of obscurity. 

As you draw nearer, the enigmatic noise crescendos in intensity, a haunting melody that pierces the quiet of the alley. 

Your steps quicken, and with each stride, the source becomes clearer. Could it be emanating from the depths of the dumpster?

A sense of déjà vu wraps around you, as if this eerie scene has been lifted from a cinematic reel. The dilemma tugs at your curiosity, tempting you to peer into the abyss of the dumpster, a choice that hangs in the balance. 

Yet, before you make a decision, a glimmer of relief washes over you. 

Nestled snugly beside the dumpster, a small ball of fur captivates your attention, its presence a stark contrast to the ominous shadows. 

A silhouette emerges from the darkness, and as you inch closer, the mystery unfolds into a shivering, meowing figure—a black cat. 

The frailness of the tiny creature tugs at your heartstrings, and you find yourself hunching down, extending a tentative invitation with soft calls, coaxing the small, ebony bundle to bridge the gap between its vulnerability and your outstretched hand.

The black cat fixes its gaze upon you, eyes mirroring a blend of uncertainty and wariness, as if it's attempting to decipher the intentions behind your outstretched hand. 

The black cat stirs from its initial hesitation, uttering plaintive meows that seem to echo its distress. As it rises, the stark reality becomes evident—malnourished and shrouded in fear, it moves tentatively towards you. Each step seems to echo a history of abandonment and struggle. With aching slowness, the feline inches closer, navigating the wet ground with trepidation. 

Softly, you beckon the malnourished feline closer, the words “Come here, you poor thing” carrying an invitation laced with compassion. 

As the tiny creature inches nearer, its pitch-black eyes become an intense focal point, a gaze that transcends the physical realm, peering into the depths of your soul. In that poignant exchange, a silent pact forms—an unspoken promise of comfort and understanding between two beings, each seeking solace in the other's company.

As the fragile black cat draws near, an echo from your past resurfaces—the cautionary words of your mother reverberating in your mind. ‘Black cats bring omen and death,’ her voice, etched in childhood memories, had warned. 

Yet, confronted with the stark vulnerability of this shivering, lost creature in the cold summer rain, you find your resolve tested. 

Against the weight of your mother's superstitions, compassion prevails, and you make a conscious decision to offer refuge. You haven’t got anything else to lose, but yourself.

The cat's purrs resonate in the quiet alley, a melodic response to the tentative connection forming between you. Meows become a symphony of trust as it finally caresses your hand, a delicate dance of vulnerability. 

With a newfound intimacy, it leans into your touch, climbing up your arm to find refuge in your lap. Despite your jacket's damp embrace, you pull the shivering creature closer, enfolding it tightly against your chest.

“I’ll take you home and get you some food.”

Rising from the damp alley, you cradle the tiny black cat in your arms, an intimate embrace that transcends the physicality of the moment. As you navigate the journey home, each step becomes a testament to the newfound connection—its fragile heartbeat resonating against your chest.

As you finally reach the sanctuary of your home, both you and the shivering cat are thoroughly drenched from the relentless rain. 

With a twist of the key, you unlock the door to your small apartment, ushering in a breath of warmth that contrasts sharply with the damp chill outside. 

In a choreography of relief, you kick off your sodden shoes, the cat nestled at your feet. Unburdened by the weight of the rain-soaked coat, you hang it on the rack, a visual symbol of the transition from the stormy world outside to the comforting refuge within the four walls of your home.

“I'll find you a towel and dry you off,” you promise to the cat, your words a tender reassurance before your feet. With a sense of urgency, you hasten to the bathroom, a quest for a towel becoming a mission to provide comfort to your newfound companion.

As you return, traces of wet footprints mark the path from the entryway to your living room, leading to the sight of the cat perched regally on your couch. 

The unexpected image elicits a sense of awe within you, a silent marvel at the fortuitous encounter that has unfolded. With the fluffy towel in hand, you join the tiny creature on the couch.

With gentle strokes, you tenderly dry the cat with the fluffy towel, the rhythmic purrs and meows resonating like a melody of gratitude. 

In this intimate act of care, a bond forms between you and the feline, its response a testament to the shared understanding that has quietly blossomed. 

The dampness of the storm may linger outside, but within the confines of your home, a warmth permeates, forged through the simple yet profound act of offering comfort to a fragile soul.

Persistently, the cat continues its chorus of meows, its nearly obsidian eyes fixed on you with an intensity that transcends mere feline curiosity. In the silent exchange, a profound question lingers in the air—what does it want? 

The gaze carries an almost pleading quality, an unspoken plea that invites you to unravel the mysteries hidden within those enigmatic eyes, and in doing so, embark on a journey of connection and understanding with this small, mysterious soul.

A revelation flickers in your mind like a sudden burst of light—food! 

The realization washes over you, and a spark of understanding illuminates the unspoken hunger behind those pleading eyes. “You're starving, ain't ya?” you murmur, the words a bridge between the two of you, an acknowledgment of shared needs and the beginning of a silent commitment to provide not just shelter but sustenance to this small, hungry soul.

In a hurried dance between care and necessity, you dart into the kitchen, swinging open the fridge door to unleash a blast of cold air. 

The realization that your wet clothes might lead to an impending cold nudges at you, urging a brief pause for self-care. As you contemplate changing into dry attire, the cat, now a nimble companion, weaves around your feet, a symphony of meows echoing its anticipation of the impending feast.

As your gaze sweeps across the contents of the fridge, a flurry of questions dance in your mind—what do cats like? 

In a moment of culinary improvisation, you spot the remnants of yesterday's fish. A hopeful assumption takes hold—cats like fish, right? 

Without a second thought, you snatch the container, crack it open, and ceremoniously place it on the floor. 

The cat descends upon the fish with a voracity that borders on desperation, consuming it in a whirlwind of seconds. 

You observe in silent fascination as the cat devours the fish with an almost primal fervor, each bite a testament to the depth of its hunger.

As the cat lifts its gaze, those dark, fond eyes fixate on you, a silent expression of gratitude that transcends words, forging a connection that lingers in the air like the sweet aftertaste of an unexpected bond.

You retrieve a bowl, fill it with water, and place it on the floor. The cat, having satisfied its hunger, wastes no time. It immediately dips its tongue into the water, each lap a testament to the thirst that had accompanied its hunger. 

In the quiet aftermath of the cat's meal, you find yourself engaged in a one-sided conversation. While it laps up the water, you speak to it with a hint of longing, as if expecting the feline to reveal its name with a mere glance. “I don't know what your name is…” you muse aloud, your words hanging in the air like a silent plea for connection. 

In the exchange, a profound yearning takes root—a desire not just to care for this creature but to unravel the mystery that shrouds it, beginning with the revelation of a name.

Hmm... A whimsical idea takes shape in your mind, and with a voice full of hope, you share your musings with the feline companion. “I don't know, maybe I'll give you one!” you exclaim, the words tinged with the excitement of a newfound connection.

Testing the waters, you propose a couple of names with a hopeful lilt in your voice. “Shadow?” you venture, eyes fixated on the cat, seeking any flicker of recognition. 

Yet, met with a stoic demeanor, you playfully offer another option, “Licorice?” 

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, but the cat remains unfazed, engrossed in its culinary pursuits. 

Embracing a sudden surge of inspiration, you think of a name that dances on the edges of whimsy and mischief. “You look like a 'Loki,' like a God of Mischief!” The words tumble out with a playful chuckle, a nod to the elusive charm that shrouds the feline. 

To your surprise, the cat interrupts its feast, casting what seems like a dumbfounded expression your way. 

A moment of shared acknowledgment hangs in the air before the cat resumes its meal, leaving you to wonder if, in that fleeting pause, you've glimpsed the spark of recognition in its enigmatic eyes.

An impromptu burst of enthusiasm seizes you, and with an abrupt yell, you christen the cat in a moment of whimsy. “Kitten!” 

The exclamation is so sudden that it startles the cat, prompting a small leap in surprise. “That's your name. You're so small, like a little kitten,” you playfully jest, mimicking the affectionate cooing one might give to a baby. 

In the imaginary realm where cats understand human whims, you half-expect a hypothetical eye-roll, as if the creature were a miniature human indulging in the theatrics of a quirky naming ceremony.

In the wake of your spontaneous naming ceremony, Kitten darts away, a streak of fur and energy leaving you in its playful wake. A fleeting attempt to follow its swift movements reveals the futility of keeping pace with this agile companion.

An earnest plea escapes your lips, “No, don't run away, Kitten!” A plea that halts not far from your bedroom, where a sudden idea takes root. “We're going to bed, and you can even sleep in my bed.” The promise hangs in the air, an invitation that sparks the cat's curiosity. 

Without hesitation, Kitten races back to you, weaving through your legs and darting into the bedroom. It watches itself in the mirror in front of your bed, before it in a graceful leap, lands on the bed, transforming this impromptu offer into a shared moment of warmth and companionship.

A soft chuckle escapes you as Kitten, with a graceful twirl, transforms into a snug, fluffy black ball. It settles onto the bed, a picture of contentment and trust, the rhythmic rise and fall of its breathing echoing in the room. 

In the sanctuary of your bathroom, the day's residue fades away as you delicately remove stained makeup and indulge in your nightly skincare rituals. 

With a sense of quiet reverence, you return to the bedroom, mindful not to disrupt Kitten's serene repose. Nestled in bed, you prop yourself up, the rhythmic routine a prelude to the tranquility that envelops the room. 

As you surrender to the embrace of sleep, the ethereal presence of the black cat becomes a silent companion in the journey between waking and dreams, a guardian of the night's secrets.

In the intimate company of Kitten, you find solace in the honesty of your own reflection. “He wasn't really for me, Kitten. I don't know why I keep going on these dates. They amount to nothing.” A sigh punctuates your admission, a subtle echo of the unspoken search for connection that seems elusive in the realm of human encounters. 

As you delve into a shared meal with your newfound family member – Kitten, you stuff your face with delicious food in an attempt to keep your minds off your failing romantic life.

Kitten responds to your words with a series of gentle meows, a seemingly agreeable chorus that resonates in the room. 

Over the past few days, he has transformed into an impeccable listener, absorbing the tapestry of your thoughts with silent grace. 

In the quiet moments of your soliloquies, a yearning surfaces—a desire for more than a feline confidant, for words that echo back with advice and wisdom. 

Yet, despite this unfulfilled wish, Kitten's silent companionship remains a source of profound comfort, his presence weaving seamlessly into the fabric of your daily life, a testament to the unexpected connections that emerge in the quiet interludes of solitude.

Consistent as the rhythm of a heartbeat, Kitten is there, a patient sentinel awaiting your return from the hustle of the day. 

His presence becomes a cherished routine, an embodiment of comfort that transcends the mundanity of the everyday. 

As you settle in front of the television, Kitten gracefully claims his place in your lap, his form snuggling into the contours of your warmth. 

The scene unfolds like a silent ballet, a dance between two beings finding solace in the quietude of shared moments—a testament to the profound bond that has blossomed in the intimate spaces of your daily life.

On a day marked by what you'd deem a successful date, you decide to bring the guy home to your apartment. 

Kitten welcomes you with joyous meows, but the moment his obsidian eyes lock onto the man, a palpable shift occurs. 

The cat's once-hospitable demeanor morphs into a display of territorial assertion—he hisses, claws unsheathed, a guardian of the sacred space that has become both haven and sanctuary.

Unfazed by Kitten's display of discontent, the man follows you into the bedroom, a trail of unresolved tension lingering in the air. However, as you attempt to navigate the fragile balance between human relationships and the silent protests of your feline confidant, Kitten stalks in with palpable anger. 

Kitten's claws assert their protest on the man's pants, a silent plea echoing through the room. “I'm so sorry about my cat. He's not usually like this,” you hastily apologize, attempting to navigate the tumultuous intersection of human connection and feline territoriality. 

In the midst of the uneasy dance, the guy gently guides you down onto the bed, a kiss bridging the gap between words left unsaid and the uncharted landscapes of desire.

In an unforeseen twist, Kitten catapults onto the bed, launching a surprise attack on the poor man's back with unbridled ferocity. 

The room erupts with a sudden commotion as the guy yells in pain, Kitten swiftly retreating to the shelter of your startled embrace.

Frustration and pain tinge the man's voice as he vehemently declares, “Fuck this. This isn't worth it! Your cat is a fucking psycho!” 

The words hang in the air, a bitter testament to the unexpected turbulence that has unraveled in the wake of Kitten's feline intervention. 

With an angry storm, the man storms out of your bedroom and through the front door, leaving behind a charged atmosphere and the unresolved echoes of a connection unraveling at the seams.

As the storm of emotions settles, Kitten finds solace in your lap, a contented purr resonating through the room—a feline sovereign basking in the aftermath of his territorial triumph. 

Meanwhile, you remain seated, mouth agape, an image of stunned disbelief etched across your face. 

You address Kitten with a scolding tone, attempting to impart a sense of reprimand into the air. “You can't do that, Kitten!” you assert, a firmness in your voice attempting to breach the language barrier between human and feline.

Amidst the aftermath, a hesitant chuckle escapes your lips, a soft attempt to diffuse the tension that lingers in the air. “Also, you're gonna leave me single forever if you do that,” you jest, the words bearing the weight of both humor and a subtle unease. 

In the ambiguous space between laughter and contemplation, you grapple with the conflicting emotions stirred by Kitten's unexpected display of protectiveness—a complex blend of gratitude, amusement, and the uncharted territories of understanding the intricate dynamics of companionship with a creature whose language transcends the boundaries of words.

A solitary figure with raven-black hair occupies a corner table in the cafe, his presence shrouded in an air of quiet mystery that tugs at the edges of your memory. 

Intrigued, you've stolen glances at him, an unspoken connection sparking curiosity within you. 

The man, seemingly lost in a world of words and sketches within the pages of his journal, emanates a strange familiarity that dances on the fringes of your consciousness. 

As he sips on his coffee, a poignant picture of solitude and anticipation, you can't help but wonder about the untold story woven into the fabric of his contemplative gaze. Perhaps he's a poet awaiting inspiration, or maybe, like you, he's caught in the delicate dance of anticipation, waiting for someone who may never arrive.

His long, pitch-black hair cascades in soft curls, framing a face adorned with dark, expressive eyes. The fair and creamy complexion of his skin, paired with lips tinged with the aftermath of fervent bites, adds an air of mystery to his features. His hands, adorned with prominent veins, move with purpose across the pages of his journal, translating the thoughts within his mind into tangible strokes. Clad in a black leather biker jacket and ripped jeans, he emanates a ‘bad boy’ allure that might not align with your usual preferences, yet there's an undeniable handsomeness that transcends the surface. As you observe, the truth unfolds—looks can be deceiving, you know.

As the hands of the clock inch towards the conclusion of your shift, you notice the enigmatic man with the pitch-black hair has vanished, leaving only the echo of his presence lingering in the now vacant corner. 

The air is charged with the unspoken allure of an encounter that slipped through the fingers of time. 

Packing up your belongings, you carry the weight of curiosity with you as you embark on the journey home, where the enigmatic enigma of Kitten awaits.

Kitten, sensing your return, greets you with a symphony of affectionate meows. Your hand instinctively reaches out, weaving a tapestry of gentle pats and strokes, an unspoken language shared between human and feline. With a contented sigh escaping your lips, you murmur, “Happy to be home.”

In the quiet sanctuary of your apartment, you find yourself recounting the day's enigmatic encounter to Kitten, the words lingering in the air like a shared secret between kindred spirits. “I saw the loneliest guy today, Kitten. It felt like he was waiting for someone, but destiny stood him up.” 

As the words escape your lips, Kitten's attentive gaze reflects an unspoken understanding, a silent pact shared between you and your feline confidant.

Your fingers delicately dance behind Kitten's ears, a gesture that elicits a symphony of contented purrs, resonating within the confines of your quiet haven. 

The next day unfolds like a familiar scene, the cafe's atmosphere steeped in the aroma of coffee and the rustle of pages turning. 

Once again, the mysterious black-haired man graces the corner with his presence, accompanied by a steaming cup of coffee and the enigmatic dance of his pen across the pages of his journal. 

Your curiosity, a flame flickering in the recesses of your thoughts, draws you to the edge of decision — to approach and unravel the mysteries that cloak him. Yet, an invisible barrier holds you back, a silent pact with yourself not to disturb the solitary poet whose verses remain unread. 

The elusive man, shrouded in the mystery of unread words, remains a realm unexplored, as each coffee order becomes a bridge guarded by your coworker.

As the day unfolds, the mysterious man persists in his corner, a captivating enigma that draws your attention like a moth to a flame. 

The rhythmic ballet of your daily routine continues, an intricate dance of serving customers while stealing glances in his direction. 

In the quiet recesses of your mind, a burning question simmers – who could possibly stand up this captivating soul, adorned with the allure of dark hair and an air of mystery that commands the room?

After days of observing the silent saga of the man and his solitude, a week of unbroken routine, your empathy swells like a rising tide. 

A magnetic force compels you to bridge the distance, and against the backdrop of the cafe's ambient hum, your feet, as if guided by an invisible hand, carry you to the table where he patiently awaits an absent companion. 

With a mix of curiosity and compassion, you settle into the chair opposite him, breaking the invisible barrier that held you apart.

As your presence disrupts the solitude he had grown accustomed to, his intense gaze, reminiscent of a predatory feline, lifts from the pages of his journal to meet your own. The sharpness in his eyes feels like a calculated assessment, causing a subtle tremor to course through you. You gulp.

“Hi,” you start, the uncertainty palpable in your voice. Attempting to mask your nervousness, your fingers run through your hair, a feeble defense against the anxious tide. 

“I’ve noticed you here alone for the past few days, and I just—” Your words stumble, caught in the rush, but before you can continue, he interjects with a voice sharp as a blade, his eyes piercing through you like he can unravel your deepest secrets. 

“Are you stalking me?” The question hangs in the air, and his gaze feels like an X-ray, laying bare your darkest thoughts. Your body seizes, frozen in the penetrating gaze that seems to pry into the very recesses of your soul.

Why does his voice carry a hint of familiarity, resonating through the air like an echo from another time?

His very presence, too, feels like a distant memory, even though you're certain you hadn't laid eyes on him before he entered the cafe a week ago. 

A subtle smirk plays on his lips, a realization dawning on you that he's asked a question. As you attempt to gather your thoughts, you find yourself choking on air, grappling to string together a coherent response.

“I'm kidding. I know you work here,” he chuckles, and you release a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. Your shoulders ease, and in an instant, you respond with a soft smile, a subtle connection forming in that shared moment of relief.

“Are you waiting for someone?” you inquire, and a smile graces his face, revealing gleaming white teeth and pink gums. He looks cute. Dangerously so.

“Nah. She just arrived.” Your eyes light up. Finally, his date has shown up! You start to rise from your chair, eager to make space for his companion. He looks up at you, a curious expression on his face, and asks, “What are you doing?”

“Making room for your date?” you quip, utterly dumbfounded.

“Date?” he asks with a raised brow. You nod, adding, “The one you’ve been waiting for.”

“But I’m already looking at her.” Your mouth hangs wide open; did you just hear him right? Is this a pickup line? And why on earth is it working?

You chuckle nervously, the sound a stark contrast to his calm and cool demeanor.

You ease back into your chair, and the conversation flows so naturally that you feel like you've known him for years.

Upon returning home, you excitedly share the details of your day with Kitten, recounting the encounter with the handsome man with his curly hair and piercing eyes. While you stroke Kitten and he purrs contentedly, you express your perplexity about the strange sense of familiarity the man emanated, despite being certain you've never met him before.

Kitten twirls and purrs in your lap, savoring the gentle strokes as you recline on your couch.

“I can't help but wonder if he'll be there again tomorrow,” you muse, your voice a soft melody to the room, accompanied by Kitten's content purrs.

He returned to the cafe the next day, and the next and the next turned into weeks.

He dedicates every moment to his secluded corner, and during your breaks you find solace in the cadence of your conversations. His name, Yoongi, resonates with the soulful poems that he breathes life into with his well-worn guitar. You’ve never heard him play or sing, but you look forward to the day you might.

His question pierces through the hum of the café, abruptly pulling you from your reverie as you delicately nibble on your muffin. “Are you heading home for the summer break?” he inquires, the unexpected interruption leaving a sweet and curious taste lingering on your lips.

As his question hangs in the air, you lock eyes with him, realizing he might not grasp the gravity of his inquiry. 

There's a momentary sag in your shoulders, a silent acknowledgment of the pain that lies beneath. Gathering the strength to respond, you share a piece of your past, “No. My parents died when I was young.”

Regret casts a shadow over his striking features in an instant, and you witness a profound apology escaping from his lips.

“I'm holding up okay. It's a tale from a while back. A car accident took my parents, leaving just my little sister and me as survivors,” you share, a poignant sadness threading through your words, your eyes misting with the memories.

He tenderly offers words of comfort, a soothing balm for your weary soul, and you allow him to lift the heaviness that clings to your spirit.

You beam at him, grateful for the warmth that radiates from his kind soul, a presence you've grown to cherish over the past few months. “And you, any exciting plans for the summer?”

“I might have to go home to my parents for a bit, but I’m not sure yet,” he shares, absentmindedly running his fingers through his soft black locks, a gesture that makes you yearn for the touch of your own hand in that sea of darkness.

“I'm telling you, bitch!” Nari slaps Yuna's thigh, a bit too enthusiastically, causing her to flinch in pain, as Nari adds with a sly grin, “She's head over heels in loooove.”

You roll your eyes at both of them, their playful banter fading into background noise as you savor the drink that Yuna ordered for you.

You've navigated downtown, finding refuge in a cozy establishment where the ambient tunes, board games, and drinks create the perfect backdrop for reconnecting with your friends.

“I swear, I'm not head over heels or anything,” you insist, batting away their teasing with a playful smirk, all the while sipping on the drink that Yuna ordered for you.

“He’s just nice,” you add with a soft smile.

“You sure do talk about him a lot,” Yuna adds in a chuckle as she rubs her thigh.

“Well, he's an interesting person, and the conversations just flow,” you reply with a grin, downplaying the significance, but your friends exchange knowing glances that hint at their suspicions.

Nari takes a sip of her drink, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Speaking of crushes, your little companion, what's his name again? Kitten?”

You passionately defend Kitten, your eyes sparkling with affection. “Don't bring Kitten into this! I adore him,” you gush, wearing your love for the little furball as a badge of honor.

Nari shares her romantic wisdom, her words dripping with affection. “Cats are fine companions, but you should find a man who can bring you warmth and happiness,” she says, her eyes practically turning into hearts if this were a cartoon. You can't help but chuckle at her earnest advice.

Yuna playfully nudges your shoulder and suggests, “You should totally ask out this Yoongi guy. I mean, come on, you practically light up every time you talk about him.”

You pause, a moment of uncertainty hanging in the air. “Maybe,” you finally reply, your words carrying the weight of contemplation.

Nari's enthusiasm rings in your ears, a bit too loud in the cozy ambiance. “You don't have anything to lose, only more to gain!” she almost shouts, her excitement reaching its peak. Her words, fueled by a touch of intoxication, linger in the air, leaving you to ponder as you consider whether it's time to call it a night.

“Okay. I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

As you step into your apartment, Kitten greets you with an extra dose of affection, weaving himself between your legs and trailing you with heightened attention. Tonight, he appears more attuned to your every move, purring and twirling around your legs with an endearing neediness. Settling down, you can't resist his charms and find yourself seated, offering gentle strokes to his fur-covered frame.

As you wrap up your nightly routine and slip into your comfortable pajamas, you turn to Kitten with a question that has become a familiar part of your routine. 

“I'm heading to bed, Kitten. You joining?” Kitten promptly leaps onto the bed, taking his customary place by your side. 

However, tonight, there's a lingering sense of affection in his actions. He showers you with gentle licks, a gesture that brings a smile to your face. As sleep gradually claims you, your dreams are adorned with vivid images of obsidian eyes and a dark, star-studded sky.

As you awaken from a restful sleep, the absence of Kitten by your side strikes you like a sudden jolt. 

Your initial response is to sit up, calling out for him, yet there's only silence in return. 

The quietness, once comforting, now carries an eerie weight as you realize the profound impact Kitten has had on your daily life. 

The room feels emptier, and a sense of unease settles in, disrupting the peace you've grown accustomed to.

A wave of melancholy washes over you, creating a heavy ache in your chest as you scan the familiar corners of your apartment, desperately searching for any sign of Kitten. 

The unanswered questions pile up in your mind, a torrent of worries threatening to drown you. Did he, too, decide to leave, slipping away like others from your life? 

The uncertainty gnaws at you, pushing you to venture into the quiet streets, hoping against hope to uncover the fate of your feline companion. Each step is a mix of trepidation and determination, a journey into the unknown to retrieve the missing piece of your daily existence.

A sense of desperation tightens its grip as you scour every nook and cranny, but Kitten remains elusive, leaving you with the bitter taste of vanishing hope. 

The echoes of your unanswered calls hang in the air, blending with the growing unease that clings to you like a shadow. The once familiar spaces now feel like a maze, and you can't shake the sinking feeling that your luck is slipping away, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. The haunting question persists: where could he be, and what could have taken him from your side?

With a mixture of determination and trepidation, your feet instinctively carry you back to the cafe. 

The familiar chime announces your arrival, drawing the attention of your coworker, who casts a puzzled look your way. The early hour has caught them off guard, their raised eyebrow mirroring the questions that dance in your own mind.

As you scan the cozy confines of the cafe, a subtle panic begins to creep through your veins. The absence of Yoongi creates an uneasy knot in your stomach, but you reassure yourself, clinging to the hope that he might stroll in later, as he often does.

The hours drag on, each passing moment heightening the anticipation. As the door chimes with every newcomer, a flicker of hope dances in your chest, only to be extinguished when it's not Yoongi. 

The day becomes a symphony of disappointment, and the subtle hope you clung to begins to dissipate, slipping through your fingers like elusive grains of sand. The cafe, once a haven of warmth and comfort, now feels eerily empty without the presence of his familiar silhouette.

As your shift draws to a close, a heavy sadness settles over you like a thick fog. The absence of Yoongi, who always brought a touch of warmth to the cafe, leaves an emptiness that echoes through the familiar surroundings. The unanswered questions linger in your mind, and a nagging worry creeps in — what could have kept him away? 

The air is charged with uncertainty, and you can't shake the feeling that something might have happened to him.

A sudden realization hits you like a wave, as you recall Yoongi mentioning the possibility of traveling to his parents for the summer break. 

The initial sting of disappointment transforms into a pang of concern. Questions swirl in your mind like a tempest – did he leave without saying goodbye? Why didn't he share his plans with you? 

The uncertainty gnaws at your thoughts, and you grapple with the unknown, desperately seeking solace in the memories of your time together.

A disquieting sensation twists in your stomach, an ominous premonition casting a shadow over your thoughts. The unease tightens its grip, leaving you with an unsettling sense that something may have befallen Yoongi. 

Your mind races through various scenarios, each more distressing than the last, as you grapple with the haunting uncertainty that looms over his absence.

Regret echoes through your thoughts like a haunting refrain. The absence of contact details with Yoongi leaves you grappling with the repercussions of a missed opportunity, a seemingly insignificant detail now carrying the weight of your uncertainty. 

A sense of loss and yearning wraps around you, intensifying the void created by the absence of a farewell. The realization dawns that in the midst of budding connection, you failed to secure a bridge to traverse the distance that now separates you.

Each step on the journey home feels like a weighted march, the heaviness of unspoken goodbyes sinking into your bones. 

Sorrow, like a relentless tide, floods your heart, consuming it with an ache that echoes through each footfall. Familiar pangs of longing claw at your chest, constricting breaths into fleeting gasps. 

It's as if the very air you breathe carries the weight of an unfinished story, leaving you to navigate the foggy terrain of uncertainty, the poignant residue of an incomplete connection lingering in the spaces between each step.

A tempest of thoughts unleashes in your mind, a whirlwind of self-doubt and abandonment. The notion that he, too, might have slipped away like others before him wraps around your heart, squeezing it in an unforgiving grip. The ache is palpable, resonating through every fiber of your being. It's an anguish that cuts deep, a symphony of hurt orchestrated by the haunting possibility that echoes in the chambers of your wounded heart.

In the intricate tapestry of your time knowing him, he wasn't just a passing figure; he had etched himself into the mosaic of your life, becoming a fragment that held the essence of friendship. 

You step into the sanctuary of your apartment, liberating your feet from the constraints of shoes, and collapse onto the couch, surrendering to its plush contours that cradle you in a cocoon of solace.

In the midst of trying to regain control of your racing breaths, a subtle vibration resonates from your pocket, drawing your attention like a lifeline. Retrieving your phone, you cast an intrigued glance at the illuminated screen, revealing an incoming call from Yuna.

With bated breath, you answer the call, the familiar cadence of Yuna's voice instantly arresting your senses. 

An unexpected wave of emotions surges through you, freezing you in the moment as her words weave a narrative you weren't prepared for.

The weight of her words hangs heavy in the air, a heartbreaking tremor in her voice as she struggles to regain composure. 

“Babe,” she utters, the tearful plea slicing through the silence like a dagger.

You can feel the gravity of the situation intensify as she reveals, “It's Nari,” the name echoing with a sense of foreboding that pierces through the air, leaving you breathless.

Dread hangs thick in the air as you muster the courage to ask, your voice trembling with fear and concern. “What about Nari?” 

The words escape your lips, each syllable a hesitant step into the unknown, and as you sit up on your couch, a sense of urgency grips you, rendering you more alert than ever before.

The weight of Yuna's words crashes over you like an unrelenting wave, drowning your senses.

“She's gone,” Yuna sobs, her cries echoing in your ears. 

A sudden chill grips your entire body, and the world around you blurs as your vision turns white. 

Tears well up, threatening to spill over, and an indescribable ache settles in the core of your being. It feels as if the ground beneath you has shifted, leaving you suspended in a surreal and devastating moment.

Your voice quivers as you manage to break through the numbness, the question escaping your lips like a fragile whisper. 

“How?” you repeat, the word catching in the tightness of your throat. Tears cascade down your cheeks, each drop carrying the weight of an ocean, a torrential release of the overwhelming emotions within you. 

Your friend's voice wavers with sorrow as she delivers the painful revelation. “Apparently, she was sick and didn’t tell anybody…” 

Each word, heavy with the burden of the unspoken, echoes in the emptiness of your apartment.

The truth, a bitter pill to swallow, lingers in the air, and you find it hard to comprehend the reality of the situation. 

The walls of your sanctuary, once comforting, now press in on you, transforming your home into a claustrophobic cage of grief. The world outside seems to blur, and all that remains is the weight of disbelief settling on your shoulders.

The longing to share your grief with Yoongi intensifies, yet the barrier of not having his contact details becomes a painful obstacle. Your emotions, already tumultuous, now surge like a tempest within. 

Frustration and sorrow intermingle, a chaotic dance that you try to contain. 

As the weight of the news presses down on you, your nails unconsciously dig into your skin, seeking an outlet for the overwhelming emotions that threaten to consume you. The physical pain becomes a tangible manifestation of the emotional turmoil churning within.

The abruptness of Nari's illness and passing hits you like an unforeseen storm, leaving you grappling with disbelief. 

Memories of her last moments flash vividly, and you question the cruel twist of fate that snatched away someone seemingly healthy. The sounds of inconsolable sobbing echo in your ears, and only then do you realize that the mournful cries tearing through the air belong to you. 

“Are you alright?” Yuna asks you in sobs.

The weight of grief presses down on you, suffocating and relentless. 

As the tears stream down your face, each one carries a piece of the pain that now resides within you. 

“No,” you whisper, the word a feeble attempt to encapsulate the magnitude of your despair. 

Your body curls inwards, seeking solace in the fetal position, as if you could fold away the anguish. 

The phone lies beside you, a lifeline to Yuna's distant sobs, but it offers little comfort compared to the absent warmth of Kitten, whose presence could once bring solace to even the darkest moments.

The weight of Yuna's words hangs heavy in the air, a shroud of truth that you're forced to confront. “Babe, she had cancer and didn't want us to know… She wanted to live a happy life until the end,” 

Yuna sobs again, and though her intent is to offer solace, the revelation feels like a cascade of heavy stones on your already burdened heart. The bitter sweetness of her desire for a joyful life juxtaposed with the pain of her silent struggle adds another layer to the grief, leaving you to grapple with the complexities of Nari's hidden battles.

“Yuna…,” you cry, the anguish in your voice echoing the profound pain that seems to squeeze the very life out of your heart. 

“Why does everyone leave?” 

The question hangs in the air, more rhetorical than expectant, as if you're not seeking an answer from Yuna but grappling with the cruel patterns of departure that life has woven into the fabric of your existence. 

Each departure, like a thread pulled from the tapestry of your world, leaves an unraveled piece that never quite knits itself back together.

“I–, I don’t know,” she stammers through her tears, the weight of the unknown echoing in her voice, mirroring the uncertainty that now shrouds both of your lives.

“Promise we’ll be there for each other,” you declare, the weight of the words hanging in the air. It's a poignant plea, an acknowledgment of life's unpredictable twists. You understand that you can't ask for an eternity, but in this moment, you're determined to hold onto each other as tightly as time allows.

“Count on it,” she vows, her response flowing effortlessly, a testament to the unspoken bond between you two.

Despite the tightening in your throat, a glimmer of happiness sparks within you at the assurance she just gave.

Why must life be so fucking cruel, robbing you of everyone you hold dear?

An overwhelming urge to reconnect with your sister washes over you, a deep yearning fueled by the ache of prolonged silence between you.

“I want to call my sister,” you manage to say through your sobs, a desperate plea lacing your words. “Will you be alright, Yuna?” you ask, your concern breaking through the waves of grief that surround you both.

“Yeah. I mean, I'm fucking sad, but go ahead and call her. Can I come to your place tomorrow?” Yuna's voice carries a subtle plea, a shared understanding that neither of you wants to be alone in the midst of sorrow.

“Yeah, I'd love that,” you respond, your voice carrying the weight of grief and the faint glimmer of gratitude for the companionship that awaits tomorrow. As you attempt to dry your tears with a throw blanket on the couch, the room feels emptier than ever, and the ache in your heart persists.

“See you tomorrow,” she says before the call ends. 

The hollowness in the room deepens, and you draw in a shaky breath, your gaze fixed on your phone. The background image captures a moment frozen in time, featuring you, Nari, and Yuna. 

God, the ache of missing her intensifies, and you can't shake the heaviness in your chest.

You tighten your grip on the phone, each tear that escapes your eyes a silent testament to the pain in your heart. Determination wells up as you locate your sister's number, fingers tracing the familiar digits, ready to bridge the gap that time and distance have carved between you.

The rhythmic ringing echoes through the emptiness of your apartment, each tone a reminder of the solitude that now envelops you. 

Anxiety gnaws at the edges of your thoughts as you anticipate the warmth of your sister's voice, a comfort you desperately need. Yet, the unanswered calls amplify the distance that separates you. With a heavy heart, you decide against leaving a message, the weight of unspoken words settling as you slump back onto the couch.

The sudden vibration of your phone startles you, and as you glance at the screen, the sight of your sister's name sparks a mixture of relief and anticipation. With a soft sniffle, you muster the strength to answer, “Hey, sis,” your voice laced with a blend of vulnerability and longing, reaching out across the digital expanse to bridge the emotional gap that separates you.

A chill courses through your body, rendering you motionless, as a deep, resonant voice resonates through the phone, catching you off guard.

“Hey,” his voice echoes through the phone, sending a shiver down your spine. 

Your trembling hand clutches the device, and you find yourself holding your breath, caught in the sudden intensity of the moment.

“I'm Detective Kim,” he introduces himself, his voice echoing through the line. It carries a calm demeanor, yet beneath its surface, you detect a subtle undertone of sadness, adding a mysterious depth to his words.

This can't be good, you murmur to yourself, the words barely escaping your lips as a chill courses through your veins, turning your blood to ice once again.

“Are you Jiho's sister?” The detective's voice remains steady and calm, but beneath the surface, you sense an undercurrent of gravity and anticipation.

“Yes,” you reply, your voice catching in a sob as you struggle to contain your tears. The ominous feeling intensifies, and you can't shake the sinking realization that a detective is the one answering your sister's phone. 

The air becomes heavy with uncertainty and fear.

“I'm deeply sorry to be the bearer of this news,” he begins with a sympathetic tone. 

You inhale sharply, bracing yourself for the impact of the words that follow.

“Your sister has passed away.” 

The world seems to shatter around you as the weight of his message settles in, leaving you breathless and heartbroken.

In that devastating moment, it feels as if the very foundation of your existence crumbles. 

Your body and soul plummet through a void, each passing second an agonizing countdown to the inevitable impact that will shatter you into a million irreparable pieces. 

The weight of grief bears down on you, and you're suspended in a free fall of despair. 

You become acutely aware of your breath, or the lack thereof, as if the air itself has turned into a suffocating force, triggering a torrent of violent inhalations, each one a desperate attempt to grasp onto a reality that has just slipped through your fingers.

A heavy silence envelops the room as the detective imparts the devastating truth, each word landing with the weight of a sledgehammer on your fragile emotions. “She was killed,” he utters, the somber notes in his tone resonating like a funeral dirge, casting a pall over the already dim reality of your world.

A suffocating wave of panic crashes over you, rendering your extremities numb and your breath caught in the grip of invisible hands. 

The room seems to close in as the detective's voice on the phone becomes a distant echo, his words lost in the disorienting whirlwind of your own mental tempest. It's a struggle to comprehend the standard condolences and procedures he details, as if reality itself is slipping through your trembling fingers.

Fucking hell. Is this hell?

In the wake of your parents' departure, you believed you had tasted the bitterest sorrow, yet today eclipses that agony without a shadow of a doubt.

You cast your phone aside on the couch, retreating to your bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. The anguish within erupts into violent sobs, an unrelenting torrent of tears flooding from your eyes, your entire frame convulsing with the weight of your grief.

You bury your face into the softness of the pillow, muffling the guttural scream that tears from your lungs. 

The sound, a primal release of anguish, reverberates within the confines of your room. Screw the neighbors; right now, the universe needs to bear witness to the rawness of your pain.

What the fuck is up with this world? Everyone around you dies! Everyone leaves!

You can’t take it anymore.

As you surrender to the torrents of grief, you hope that tears might offer solace, a fleeting relief that could pave the way for much-needed sleep. Yet, despite your desperate attempts, the embrace of slumber eludes you, leaving you trapped in the clutches of your sorrow-soaked thoughts.

In an impulsive surge, you opt for a nocturnal stroll. Snatching your jacket, you step into the silent night, the residue of dried tears blending seamlessly with the ones that refuse to cease. 

The moon above, a silent witness to the turmoil within, as your footsteps echo the rhythm of a heart weighed down by grief.

As you traverse the familiar streets of town, a magnetic pull guiding you to a cherished park, your sanctuary. Swiftly, you arrive and gingerly settle your weary frame onto a weathered bench, the cool night air offering a gentle caress to your battered soul.

As your gaze ascends to the enchanting tapestry of the night, a celestial dance of stars unfolds above. Tonight, the cosmic expanse seems to cradle the spirits of your sister and Nari, their luminous presence illuminating the vast darkness, a celestial reunion among the constellations.

As your tears persist, you fix your eyes upon the star-lit canvas above. Each gleaming star appears like a radiant jewel, casting an ethereal glow across the night. The beauty is undeniable, yet a poignant sadness lingers in your heart. 

Compelled by an unspoken yearning, you embark on the solemn task of counting the stars, each one a celestial tribute to the cherished souls who now adorn the heavens. 

The question echoes in your mind: Why?

Why do they blaze with such brilliance, akin to a dying star igniting in a final, magnificent burst before consuming everything in its cosmic embrace?

Your heart pounds violently against your ribcage, each beat echoing through your chest, and the air feels elusive, slipping away as if you're caught in a suffocating grip.

Life reveals its cruel nature, leaving you to grapple with the relentless question: Why does everyone leave? Why does the world around you crumble, stealing away those you hold dear?

An emptiness envelopes you, a void so profound it swallows every ounce of light. Darkness creeps in, and an irresistible urge emerges, coaxing you to surrender to its consuming embrace.

Perhaps it's time to release your grip on reality and join the celestial dance of those who have departed before you?

As the tears flow, perhaps this haunting void within will dissipate, bringing an end to the relentless ache that permeates every fiber of your being.

As the weight of loneliness bears down on you, an insidious desire to surrender, to slip into an eternal slumber, creeps through your shattered heart. The yearning for an endless sleep, where the fractured pieces of your soul find solace, consumes you. It's as if the very essence of your being is crumbling into irreparable fragments.

The fragments of your soul lie scattered, and the daunting question echoes in the hollow chambers of your despair—can you summon the strength to mend them once more, to piece together the shattered remnants of your being?

In the depths of your despair, a resolute realization surfaces — a quiet but unwavering knowing that, despite the relentless cruelty, you're not ready to surrender to the void. Life, as brutal as it may be, still holds threads of resilience within its intricate tapestry, and you find an ember of strength glowing amidst the shadows.

You divert your gaze downward, focusing on your hands nestled in your lap, choosing the tangible reality of your own existence over the distant allure of the star-studded night.

You harbor too many aspirations to surrender to despair. Your desires paint a vivid canvas of dreams: to find solace in the embrace of a kind-hearted partner, secure a fulfilling career, and relish the simple joys that life offers. Nari's silent battle with illness inspires you to embrace life with the same gusto, celebrating its moments without the need for validation.

In the midst of your fragmented existence, amidst the shattering pain, you crave it all. Yearning for the entirety of life's tapestry, even when it feels like it's unraveling. 

Despite life's cruelty, there's an undeniable allure in its intricate beauty, compelling you to seek solace and embrace the stunning contradictions that define your life.

Amidst the tear-stained path, your resolve solidifies. 

The decision made, you tread back to your apartment, the silent witness to your inner turmoil. Each step echoes with the weight of your emotions, a symphony of sorrow playing in the background. 

The sanctuary of your home beckons, promising the respite that only sleep, albeit restless, can bring. Sleep, like a long-lost friend, embraces you swiftly this time. Grateful for the solace it brings, you sink into its comforting arms, the reprieve from the turmoil of the day unfolding like a gentle lullaby.

The chime of the doorbell resonates through your apartment, and you're roused from the depths of sleep. Yuna, true to her word, stands on the other side, a beacon of support in your time of need.

Embraced in a tight hug, tears stream down both your faces, the shared weight of grief transforming the silent embrace into a powerful testament of mutual understanding and shared sorrow.

Seated on the couch, you engage in a heartfelt conversation about the unpredictable journey of life—its highs and lows. 

As a comforting silence settles between you, you reach for the remote and, with a flicker of distraction, decide on a mindless show. Wrapped in the embrace of shared grief, you find solace in the soft glow of the television, its images casting a gentle veil over your weary souls.

That night, Yuna stays over, a comforting presence that feels like a blessing in the midst of your overwhelming grief.

In the vulnerable hours of the night, you pour your heart out to Yuna. 

Tears flow freely as you share the ache of losing your sister, the void left by Kitten's absence, and the fear that Yoongi might be gone forever. In the solace of shared sorrow, you find a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows.

In the tender embrace of Yuna, you find solace. Her comforting presence is a lifeline in the storm of grief, holding you close as tears cascade. Though she's often your pillar of strength, tonight you yearn to reciprocate, to be the support she's always been for you. It's a quiet understanding, an unspoken pact between friends navigating the unpredictable currents of life.

In the quiet depths of the night, as you share your pain with Yuna, a flicker of determination ignites within you. You yearn not just for solace but to become the architect of your own joy. The realization dawns that your happiness lies in the unwritten chapters of your own journey, waiting to be explored and embraced. It's a moment of self-discovery, a commitment to forge your path to happiness, independent and resilient.

With the dawn of a new day, you decide to embark on a journey of self-discovery. 

Despite the weight of sorrow lingering in your chest, you resolve to savor life in all its transient splendor—embracing its beauty, acknowledging its ugliness, and reveling in every nuanced shade in between. 

Each moment becomes a canvas, and you are determined to paint it with the vibrant strokes of resilience and newfound appreciation.

With unwavering determination, you approached your boss at the café, advocating for a shift in your work hours. The goal? To rekindle the pursuit of knowledge, to step back into the world of academia and reignite the spark of astrophysics that had once fueled your passion. 

As the prospect of returning to school looms on the horizon, you recognize that the journey ahead is both a challenge and an opportunity—a chance to sculpt a future that you can genuinely be proud of, with each completed course marking a triumph over self-doubt and a step closer to the constellations of your dreams.

In the wake of that poignant night where two cherished souls departed, a few months have quietly slipped away. 

In a tender gesture of support, Yuna encourages you to embrace the prospect of love once more. Unlike before, hesitation has no place in your heart this time. 

With newfound courage, you step into the realm of dating, a journey tinged with both vulnerability and hope, as you navigate through the tapestry of emotions woven by the threads of the past and the promises of the future.

Life, a relentless journey, doesn't yield to simplicity, yet within its intricate folds, a subtle transformation occurs. It doesn't unravel swiftly, but with each passing day, it stitches together a mosaic of improvement, a gradual emergence from the shadows into the dappled light of a better tomorrow.

With each sunrise, a symphony of healing orchestrates within you, crescendoing into a melody that resonates louder, and you find solace in the fact that every dawn gifts you a version of yourself stronger and more resilient than the preceding day.

As winter unfurls its icy embrace, you find solace in the familiar touch of your cherished wool coat, the cozy sanctuary of fluffy sweaters enveloping you like a hug from a dear friend, and the softness of warm socks cradling your every step. 

With a steaming cup of tea in hand, you dive into your studies, the brisk air outside contrasting with the warmth that courses through your veins.

Embarking on the journey to reclaim an unfinished chapter of your life, returning to the hallowed halls of academia, you revel in the triumphant echoes of resilience as you strive to complete the narrative you once set in motion.

As you tread homeward, the city draped in the melancholy hues of twilight, a fleeting silhouette dashes through the alleys, a phantom of darkness. 

For the briefest moment, memories of Kitten's playful escapades dance in your mind, a bittersweet symphony of nostalgia. 

A sigh, heavy with the weight of longing, escapes your lips, yet you trudge forward, navigating the shadows toward the warmth of your home.

In the intimate glow of your kitchen, you conjure a culinary masterpiece, a symphony of flavors orchestrated only for yourself. The sizzle of ingredients harmonizes with the rhythmic beat of your heart, a ritual of self-love that has become your refuge. 

Many a time, you've crafted these delectable creations, some shared in the company of fleeting dates whose presence, like autumn leaves, brushed briefly against the canvas of your life, but leaving no lasting imprint on your heart.

Midway through the mundane task of stowing away dishes, a subtle and mysterious hum reverberates through your abode, originating from the vicinity of your door.

The air is suddenly filled with a familiar, distant melody—a soft and rhythmic meowing that sends a jolt of excitement through you. 

Abandoning your chores, you rush to the door, fingers fumbling with the lock, and there, in all his glory, stands Kitten!

In a flurry of warmth and relief, you scoop up the cold, shivering Kitten into your embrace, quickly closing the door behind him. His meows echo gratitude, and a tender lick against your cheek seals the unspoken bond that time and distance failed to break.

In a million moments, you never fathomed seeing him again. Now, as he rests in your arms, elation courses through you like a celestial symphony, leaving you over the moon with sheer happiness.

His return is a testament to a bond beyond time, a friendship that defies the measure of days. It's not about the duration of his absence; it's about the joyous truth that he returned to you, stitching the fragments of your heart back together.

You rush to your cabinet, your heart pounding with both relief and excitement. Grabbing a can of cat food, you swiftly prepare a feast for Kitten, watching as he eagerly devours the meal, his hunger echoing the void his absence left in your life.

As you stroke Kitten's fur, you can't help but ponder on the mysteries that shroud his disappearance. His body, while not emaciated, carries the silent tales of his adventures. 

You yearn to unravel the chapters of his feline escapades, wishing you could converse with him, share the unspoken hardships, and assure him that he's found a forever home in the warmth of your embrace.

In a breathless whisper, you confess, “I've missed you so much,” the weight of your longing carried in the tenderness of your voice. 

A solitary tear, a testament to the emotions flooding your heart, escapes and dances down your cheek, mirroring the joy of a reunion long yearned for.

As the echoes of your affectionate words linger in the air, Kitten responds with a gentle purr, a harmonious melody that intertwines seamlessly with the sound of him relishing the meal.

Amidst the soft cadence of Kitten's purring, you find solace in the familiar presence of your feline companion. With a sigh, you decide to share the intricacies of the tumultuous journey you've undertaken since his absence. “So much has unfolded, Kitten,” you whisper, your voice a gentle reassurance, “a lot of shit, but also a lot of good.”

As Kitten finishes his meal, he responds with a symphony of content purrs, gracefully padding over to where you crouch. With a playful nudge against your legs, he seems to convey a silent acknowledgment, a shared moment of warmth and connection between old friends.

In the span of a few days, the void that Kitten's absence left has been filled with the comforting rhythm of his presence. You've poured out your heart to him, recounting the events and emotions that unfolded during his time away, as if catching him up on the chapters of your life. 

Kitten, with his attentive eyes and soothing purrs, seems to understand more than most, providing a silent anchor in the storm of your experiences.

As you sink into the soft embrace of your couch, a contented smile plays on your lips. With Kitten nestled beside you, you share a profound realization that has taken root in your heart: ‘I live, so I love.’ The words hang in the air, a testament to the resilience you've found in the face of life's unpredictable twists. The TV hums with background noise, but in that moment, the simple joy of companionship fills the room.

In the quiet solitude of your apartment, you confide in Kitten, the loyal companion who has witnessed both your joys and sorrows. “I don't think he's coming back,” you murmur, a tinge of sadness lingering in your voice. As if attuned to your emotions, Kitten responds with a gentle meow, a feline reassurance that transcends words. 

In the rhythmic cadence of your words, a sense of vulnerability emerges. “I know, I know. I don't need a man in my life. I get that,” you confess, your voice carrying the weight of self-awareness.

The clinking of utensils against pots and pans provides a subtle percussion to your thoughts as you continue, “But Yoongi was special, you know? Like he just got me... and I just wish for him to be happy doing whatever he's doing.” The aroma of dinner fills the air, mingling with the unspoken sentiments swirling in the room.

As you delicately feed Kitten some steamed broccoli, the notion of reuniting with Yoongi lingers in the air. “If he comes back, you should meet him – I'll introduce you!” The words spill from your lips, carrying a hopeful melody.

As you reminisce about Yoongi, a fond smile plays on your lips. “He's such a wonderful person. And handsome? Oh, his hands,” you begin, tracing the air with your fingers as if you can feel the texture of his presence. Memories flood back, each detail etched in your mind like a cherished photograph. “Long fingers, veiny hands,” you murmur, the words infused with a hint of admiration that even surprises you. The love for this man reverberates in your voice, a quiet confession to the depths of your feelings.

Kitten's melodic meow serenades the room as he gracefully weaves between your feet, his tail coiling affectionately around your calves like a comforting embrace.

“If you meet him, please don’t claw his back out like you did with that other guy. Yoongi is nice.”

With a heavy heart, you confide in Kitten, the weight of your worry evident in the rhythmic tapping of the spatula against the sizzling vegetables. “It's been nearly half a year, and I can't shake the feeling that something might have happened to him,” you murmur, the crackling sounds of the kitchen offering a somber backdrop to your uncertainty.

As the warmth of the meal envelops you and Kitten, you sit together, a silent companionship settling over the room. The simplicity of this moment strikes you, and a quiet realization unfolds – you love your life just as it is. 

In the shared silence, you feel a sense of wholeness, a testimony to the goodness found in life's simplicity. Though your heart may still ache at times, you've come to accept that, too, as a part of the beautiful complexity that makes life what it is.

You're keenly aware that time is the remedy for healing, a gentle but persistent force that gradually eases the ache until one day, the pain will be a distant echo of what it once was.

Your weary limbs protest against the demands of a full-time class schedule and cafe shifts, revealing the hidden challenges of your daily grind. Fatigue clings to you like a shadow, and an involuntary yawn escapes.

With a wearied sigh, you address Kitten, your loyal companion in fatigue. “Ah, Kitten, today's been a battle. I'm going to bed early today,” you murmur, dragging your exhausted body to the bathroom in a nightly ritual. 

Upon returning to your sanctuary, you find Kitten, already nestled in his customary spot, a comforting presence in the silent embrace of the night.

Sinking beneath the cozy duvet, you surrender to its tender embrace, the fabric cocooning you in a haven of softness. With a gentle pat, you acknowledge Kitten, “Thank you for being here,” you murmur before succumbing to the enchantment of dreamland.

As consciousness tiptoes back into your awareness, the remnants of dreams linger like elusive whispers in your mind. Gently awakening, you open your eyes to find the absence of Kitten.

Your eyes widen in astonishment, and your body tenses as you absorb the scene unfolding before you—a man, peacefully lost in the realm of dreams. 

Your gaze follows the cascade of long, slightly curly, obsidian hair that drapes over his shoulders, tracing the contours of his creamy white skin. The play of morning light reveals a well-defined back, drawing your eyes down the elegant curve of his spine until they come to rest on a small, soft, plum-like ass. The realization hits you like a bolt— he's completely naked!

Why is your heart orchestrating a rapid symphony, each beat echoing in your ears like a thunderous drumroll? And what in the world is a naked stranger doing sprawled across your sheets as though he belongs there?

He slumbers in serene oblivion, emitting soft, melodic sighs that weave through the air, his chest gracefully ascending and descending in rhythmic dance with each tranquil breath.

Wait. 

He seems familiar.

A gasp escapes your lips as you take a closer look, and the realization hits you like a bolt of lightning – it's Yoongi! 

Shock and disbelief intertwine in your chest as you stare at his peaceful slumber.

Confusion and a hint of panic surge through you as your mind races with questions. 

Why is Yoongi in your bed, and why on earth is he naked?

How did Yoongi end up here, and where is Kitten?

A myriad of questions spins through your mind, a turbulent storm of curiosity. As you ponder the mysteries, you belatedly notice Yoongi stirring, gracefully shifting to lie on his back.

Your face burns with embarrassment as the realization dawns that he's still completely naked. Heat rises to your cheeks when his half-erect dick brushes against his stomach, prompting you to instinctively shield your eyes, flustered by the unexpected sight.

You wrestle with the dilemma of whether to disturb his serene slumber or let him continue resting peacefully. The soft innocence in his sleeping form makes the decision more challenging, and you lean towards allowing him to bask in the tranquility of his dreams undisturbed.

Gently, you drape the comforting warmth of your duvet over him, a shield against the chill of the room. With nimble movements, you extract yourself from the bed, careful not to disturb the delicate balance of his slumber.

Confusion seizes your thoughts as you grapple with the surreal scenario—Yoongi peacefully nestled in your bed. You wrack your brain, questioning every sober memory, desperately trying to unearth the missing pieces that would explain his presence.

You step into the kitchen, a fleeting sense of unease prickling at your skin as you scan the room for Kitten, but he remains elusive, leaving a trace of uncertainty in the air.

A twinge of melancholy washes over you as Kitten remains elusive, but you console yourself with the hope that he might return, his absence merely a temporary void in your otherwise comforting routine.

You embark on the simple yet intimate act of preparing two steaming cups of coffee—one for yourself and one for the unexpected visitor who occupies your bed.

You seize a handful of aromatic coffee beans from a vintage jar, letting the rich fragrance envelop you as you crush them under the steady hum of your machine. With precision, you measure out the perfect amount, combining it with hot water, allowing the concoction to brew into a comforting elixir.

While the coffee brews, your mind races with bewildering thoughts about Yoongi's unexpected presence in your bed. Puzzlement clouds your senses as you contemplate every conceivable scenario. 

Did he let himself in? Was there some mysterious way he could have gained access? 

With a touch of anxiety, you even venture to your front door, checking for any signs of unauthorized entry, only to find it securely locked, shrouded in an eerie silence.

You're grappling with the perplexing mystery of Yoongi's appearance in your bed, as if he materialized out of thin air, defying all logic and reason, leaving you spellbound by the inexplicable magic that seems to have woven its way into your ordinary reality.

In the quiet chaos of your thoughts, Yoongi's presence offers more questions than answers, an enigmatic puzzle that seems to defy the ordinary. The absence of Kitten only adds another layer of mystery to the unfolding scene. 

As the coffee machine dings, disrupting the contemplative silence, you're left grappling with the surreal conundrum before you, seeking clarity in the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

With the warmth of freshly brewed coffee in your hands, you reenter the bedroom to discover Yoongi, now alert, draped in your duvet, a captivating silhouette in the soft morning light.

Your greeting falters as you nervously stammer, “H–, Hi,” setting the two mugs of coffee on your nightstand. Yoongi's gaze, sharp and feline-like, traces your every move, creating a palpable tension in the air.

An unfamiliar nervousness grips you in his presence, an unusual sensation considering your usual ease around him. Perhaps it's the fact that he's naked, his gaze akin to a predator eyeing down its prey, intensifying the air with an unspoken tension.

“Hey,” finally breaking the silence, he greets you with a low grumble, scratching his head and letting out a lazy yawn.

His body exudes a captivating blend of softness and defined muscles, a captivating sight that—

His voice, laced with a teasing smirk, breaks the tension. “Can't stop staring at my dick, huh?”

Your throat tightens as you realize you've been caught in the act, silently observing him. Panic sets in – does he think you're a freak now? Fantastic.

You let out a nervous chuckle, deliberately shifting your gaze away from the obvious bulge in the duvet around his lap. “What are you doing here, Yoongi? And why are you naked?” you inquire, genuinely puzzled.

He chuckles, a low sound that sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but feel a tinge of unease. “You haven't figured it out yet?” he teases, his words hanging in the air, leaving you in suspense.

You must resemble a walking question mark, because his chuckles only intensify. It's as if he finds your confusion amusing, and you're left standing there, desperate for answers in the midst of his enigmatic laughter.

In a soft tone laced with a smirk, he utters, “Kitten.”

Your gaze fixates on him, bewildered. Kitten? Is he referring to your cat?

Your jaw drops as he gracefully emerges from the bed, the duvet cascading off his frame. In his unabashed nudity, he strides toward you.

He inches closer, the proximity almost causing your lips to collide. A surge of warmth courses through you when he delicately tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I’m a shapeshifter,” his revelation hangs in the air, the weight of it palpable, and as he locks eyes with you, searching for any flicker of discomfort, the truth settles. Before you can process it fully, he leans in, capturing your lips with an irresistible surge of passion.

His lips, soft and inviting, embark on a slow yet passionate dance, as if reuniting with a long-lost lover. Responding eagerly, you part your lips, allowing the kiss to deepen, and in that electrifying moment, your entire body succumbs to a sensation akin to melting butter.

You yield to his touch, molding your body to his as you sense the undeniable hardness of his arousal intimately pressing against your core.

Fuck.

In the midst of the heated moment, you draw back slightly to meet his gaze, the question hanging in the air, “So... you're Kitten?”

He offers no verbal response, just a low, affirmative hum, before plunging back into another intoxicating kiss.

You surrender to the sensation, feeling the firm grip of his hands on your waist as they journey upward beneath the fabric of your well-worn shirt.

His touch ignites a trail of sensations, tracing a path across your body, sending electric shivers as he lifts your shirt, gently grazing against the contours of your breasts.

Under the intensity of his gaze, your body responds, a flush of heat spreading through you, your nipples hardening in response. He emits a low, satisfied hum, as if relishing the effect he has on you.

Effortlessly, he works to level the playing field, swiftly undressing you as if in a race against time. With a purposeful tug, he eases your shorts down, a silent declaration of his desire.

Bare before him, clad only in a simple black panty adorned with delicate pink hearts, you can't shake the vulnerability coursing through you. A sudden urge to conceal yourself washes over, a reaction to the raw exposure in this intimate moment.

“Don't shy away, you're stunning,” Yoongi murmurs, his firm grip on your hips drawing you closer to his naked body. The undeniable heat of his arousal presses against your core, a tangible reminder of the desire smoldering between you.

Gratitude escapes your lips in a hushed tone, your cheeks tinged with a warm blush.

“Now, let’s get these off you, yeah?” with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he hooks his fingers inside the fabric of your panties, teasingly tugging them down. He pauses, seeking your consent, before sensually sliding them all the way down your legs.

As he slides your panties down, a sudden awareness of your arousal hits you, intensified by the cool rush of air against your heated core.

As they fall to the floor, Yoongi swiftly snatches up your panties, bringing them to his face to inhale the intoxicating essence of your arousal, his eyes darkening with desire.

Why does that look so utterly sinful, setting off a delicious rush of arousal coursing through your veins, leaving you breathless in its wake?

As the intoxicating scent of you envelops him, he murmurs, “Damn, you smell good,” his eyes dilating with an unmistakable hunger.

“I wonder if you taste as good as you smell.”

In the raw vulnerability of your shared nakedness, he guides your body back to the bed, gently laying you down, his presence a magnetic force, hovering above you.

He immerses himself in the expanse of your neck, a symphony of sensations unfolding – a delicate ballet of tender kisses, followed by the electrifying nip of his teeth grazing the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

You moan in unabashed pleasure, your hands instinctively seeking refuge on his chiseled pectorals, anchoring yourself amidst the rising waves of bliss.

Yoongi's gaze shifts to the mirror positioned strategically in front of your bed. “I've been meaning to ask,” he smirks, locking eyes with you, “why do you have a mirror in front of your bed?”

You squirm beneath him, breath catching.”'It's part of my wardrobe panels,” you admit, your voice a fragile melody.

He chuckles, a low and enticing sound, his smirk dancing on his lips. “I don't think that's why the whole panel is mirrors,” he says, sitting up slightly. His finger traces a slow, teasing path from your collarbones to your breasts, sending shivers of anticipation racing through your body.

He leans in, his breath sending a shiver down your spine, and in a deep, low voice, he murmurs into your ear, “You're a dirty one, aren't you?”

His degrading words make your breath hitch instantly, and you involuntarily clench your thighs together. As you shake your head in disagreement, he just smirks, unconvinced.

His chuckle resonates in the room as he asks, “Do you enjoy watching yourself in the mirrors?” Sitting up, he moves to the foot of the bed, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark.

He gracefully steps out of the bed, casting a predatory gaze as he hovers over you, an aura of irresistible allure surrounding him.

With unwavering determination, he declares, “You're going to watch yourself in the mirror as I fuck your pussy with my tongue.” In a single, fluid motion, he seizes both of your thighs, pulling you to the foot of the bed, sending a thrilling jolt through your senses.

Despite the heat coursing through your entire being, a light chuckle escapes your lips. However, the mirth dissipates as you lock eyes with the intensity in Yoongi's dark gaze.

“Sit up,” his command echoes through the room, and as he gracefully lowers himself between your legs, a thrilling anticipation courses through the air.

From your elevated position, you admire the tousled chaos of his hair, a disheveled masterpiece that only enhances his captivating allure. His eyes gleam with a mischievous spark, a silent promise of the intensity that is about to unfold.

You seize his cheeks with urgency, your voice dripping with desire, a fervent plea escaping your lips, “Fuck. Yoongi, please eat me out.”

He moistens his lips with a teasing chuckle, descending eagerly towards your already soaked center.

He expertly widens the gap between your legs, creating a perfect haven for himself before delving into your pussy with fervent devotion.

With a tantalizing finesse, he starts with a subtle stroke of his tongue along your folds, gradually ascending to the apex of your clit, eliciting a fervent moan that echoes in the room.

As waves of pleasure cascade through you, your fingers instinctively entwine in his tousled locks, gently pulling as he skillfully devotes his attention to the exquisite dance of his tongue and lips on your pulsating core.

Gasping for breath, your anticipation mounts, every nerve tingling with pleasure, as Yoongi's rhythmic strokes across your intimate folds propel you toward a climax, your toes curling in ecstasy.

Pausing momentarily, he murmurs in appreciation, “You taste even better than you smell, Kitten,” his words sending a shiver down your spine.

You're on the verge of asking him about the nickname ‘Kitten,’ but his tongue explores your folds, leaving you breathless and unable to form words.

Your question dissolves in the heat of the moment, the building climax taking center stage as you lose yourself in the pursuit of pleasure.

Lost in the waves of ecstasy, you can't resist the urge to surrender, closing your eyes as Yoongi works his magic with undeniable expertise.

“No, no, no. Look at yourself in the mirror, Kitten.”

“Why do—” before you can finish your question, it fades away on your tongue as Yoongi plunges back into pleasuring your core with a renewed intensity, leaving your thoughts swallowed by the whirlwind of sensations.

As you glance at the mirror, you catch a glimpse of your own blissful expression, framed by Yoongi's tousled black hair nestled between your thighs. The sight is nothing short of breathtaking, a sight of pleasure that leaves you utterly captivated.

The provocative scene unfolding in the mirror intensifies your arousal, your breath hitching in tandem with the escalating desire pulsating through your veins.

“Yoongi, I’m—” your plea catches in your throat as Yoongi skillfully responds, his hand finding your pulsating clit, heightening the pleasure while he continues to ravish you with his insatiable tongue.

His fingers dance in rhythmic circles over your throbbing clit, coaxing the tension from your core. As the knot unravels, a wave of blissful release washes over you, leaving you breathless and trembling in its wake.

Ecstasy courses through your veins, your toes curling, muscles tightening, and in that moment, an unexpected surge of pleasure hits you like a sneeze that never comes. You release a symphony of moans, surrendering to the intense climax that Yoongi skillfully orchestrates with his talented tongue.

He continues to suck, savoring every drop of your essence, an insatiable thirst in his eyes matching the fervor of the intimate dance between your bodies.

As the intensity peaks, you gently tap his shoulder, signaling him to withdraw. He complies with a sensual slurp, leaving you breathless and tingling with the echoes of pleasure.

A mischievous grin stretches across his face as he licks his lips, “You're incredible, Kitten.”

You arch an eyebrow, curiosity coloring your tone, “Why do you keep calling me ‘Kitten’? You’re Kitten.”

He erupts in laughter, a symphony that resonates through the room, his chest rising and falling with the melody of mirth, and in that moment, he's a captivating masterpiece.

“Do I really look like a Kitten to you?” he inquires, a playful glint in his eyes as he gently nudges you back onto the bed.

Your words stumble as you search for a response, “Not really,” you admit, offering him a small yet tender smile.

“But you look cute and sweet, like a good Kitten,” he murmurs, his hands exploring the curves of your breasts.

A low moan escapes your lips as he teases your nipples with a playful twist, igniting a fresh surge of desire that pools in the growing heat between your thighs.

As you ache for the feel of his throbbing length, you attempt to grab hold of him, but like a fleeting mirage, he skillfully eludes your touch, leaving you yearning for the intimate connection that inches away with each evasive movement.

“Nah. I just want to fuck you silly,” he rasps, eyes tracing every bead of sweat on your flushed skin, reveling in the primal rhythm of your hurried breaths.

“If you want to, that is?” he teases, his voice a sultry whisper, as he takes control, guiding himself between your legs with a confident hand that promises a morning full of pleasure.

As you feel the weight of his gaze, you gulp, wondering how, in that heated moment, he could question what you crave. It's undeniable – you want him, and the intensity of your desire hangs in the air between you, palpable and unspoken.

Your breath catches as you respond, the words tumbling from your lips in a heated rush, “Fuck, yes, Yoongi. I want you inside me, now,” the urgency in your voice betraying the intensity of your desire.

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes him, the sound sending a shiver down your spine as he replies, “Please” with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“‘Please’ what?”

“Say ‘please’.”

You huff, incredulous at his audacity. The desire in his eyes is undeniable, and he seems to enjoy the game. Part of you rebels, tempted to be a brat just to irk him, but the need for his touch overrides any resistance. You crave his intimacy, aching for his dick despite the defiance lingering in the air.

“Fuck this,” you grumble, frustration evident in your voice. In that fleeting moment, you catch a glimpse of Yoongi pulling back, as if reconsidering his stance.

“Please! Don’t leave,” you plead desperately, your sincerity laid bare. The smirk on his face deepens, as if savoring the intensity of your plea.

“Please fuck me, Yoongi.”

His satisfaction evident, he rewards you with a swift kiss before aligning himself with your eager entrance, anticipation humming in the air.

Your arousal has reached a point where there's no discomfort, just a perfect fit as he slides into you, your wetness welcoming and enveloping him seamlessly.

He hisses as he eases into your warm, tight walls, and you can feel him doing his best to restrain himself.

You release a breathy huff as he fully penetrates, his balls gently meeting the warmth of your folds.

He lets out a guttural groan as he steadies himself, withdrawing only to plunge back in with an intensity that sends shivers through your body.

In this intimate position, with him above you, every nuance of his pleasure is on full display—the way his nose scrunches in delight, his soft lips occasionally nibbling the bottom one in sheer ecstasy.

Between each thrust, he can't help but express his amazement, his voice low and husky, “Damn. You're so tight.”

You know. It’s been awhile. 

As he moves within you with an increased rhythm, his hands find your breasts, skillfully massaging them in sync with his fervent thrusts, creating a symphony of pleasure that courses through your entire body.

Ecstasy courses through you, and in the midst of your fervent pleasure, you can't help but release a breathless exclamation, “Fuck, Yoongi!”

Every skillful thrust seems to find its mark, synchronized with the enticing dance of his fingers on your hardened nipples. Pleasure envelops you, clouding your thoughts in a haze of ecstasy.

Your pleasure intensifies as Yoongi skillfully pinches your nipples, eliciting a symphony of moans that harmonize with the rhythmic dance of his passionate thrusts.

Sensations ripple through you, and the desire to reciprocate Yoongi's pleasure builds within you. You yearn to give him the same ecstasy he's generously bestowed upon you.

Amidst the rhythmic cadence of Yoongi's thrusts, a bold request escapes your lips. Your gaze, laced with desire, meets his, and with a subtle plea in your eyes, you softly murmur, “Yoongi—, I want to ride you. Please.”

With a devilish grin, Yoongi withdraws from your embrace, reclining on the bed, his eyes ablaze with anticipation.

His voice, laced with desire, sends shivers down your spine as he commands, “Then you're gonna watch in the mirrors as you fuck yourself on my dick,” reclining with his head angled towards the mirrors.

Mounting him, you position yourself strategically, both of you reflected in the mirror—a tantalizing image of entangled limbs, the intensity of the moment etched in your heaving, sweat-glistened bodies.

Grasping his throbbing dick, he hisses in anticipation as you deftly align your eager entrance with his cock.

With a fluid motion, you descend onto his rigid cock, your velvet walls enveloping him in a tight, intoxicating embrace.

From below, Yoongi savors the view, his gaze lingering on the contours of your face, as if committing every detail to memory.

You guide the rhythm, your hands finding stability on his sculpted chest, setting the pace as you ride him with a mix of determination and desire.

Your movements cascade, a slow dance that gradually builds momentum, each rise and fall carrying a symphony of pleasure and anticipation.

As you gaze upon your reflection, the flush of arousal paints your cheeks, your disheveled hair framing your face like an unruly halo, and your breasts dance in perfect harmony with the rhythm of your passionate movements.

The person in the mirror seems like a stranger, a sensual revelation you never knew existed within you. The mirrors, always present but never before utilized for sex, now reflect a version of yourself that’s both thrilling and new.

Heat courses through your veins, an intoxicating blend of arousal and empowerment, as you observe your own uninhibited reflection. With newfound vigor, you escalate the rhythm, riding Yoongi more vigorously. His appreciative groans and tender gaze mirror the intensity of the moment.

Unbridled desire takes over as your hands instinctively find their way to Yoongi's neck. Without a conscious thought, your fingers glide over the warmth of his skin, gently encircling his throat.

An electrifying jolt courses through you as you sense Yoongi's involuntary twitch within you, and you catch the ragged rhythm of his breath.

Panic courses through you, and you hastily retract your hands, realizing with a shock that you had unintentionally exerted pressure on Yoongi's throat. “Oh my God! I'm so sorry!” you blurt out, your apology a mix of concern and embarrassment.

“It's fine, Kitten. I like it,” he reassures you with a devilish grin, seizing your hands and guiding them back around his neck, his eyes sparking with a hint of mischief.

You shoot him a concerned glance, pausing your movements to ensure he's okay. Once he reassures you with a nod, signaling his approval, you dive back into the rhythm you had before.

With a newfound boldness, you tighten your grip around his throat, drawing out another satisfying twitch from him. His reaction sends a surge of pleasure through you as he hits that sweet spot, causing a kaleidoscope of sensations that make you see stars.

Your unrestrained moans fill the room, a symphony of desire that intertwines with the rhythmic sounds of your bodies colliding. The sight of Yoongi unraveling beneath your touch fuels a primal arousal, and you revel in the raw passion that courses through every fiber of your being.

“Fuck!” you pant.

“I’m gonna come,” you confess, the words escaping on a ragged breath, as you impale yourself on his dick. You’re body trembling as you hold the moment, savoring the anticipation before the inevitable plunge into ecstasy.

With a tender touch, you withdraw your hands from his throat, leaning down to kiss him. Your lips meet his in a dance of passion, tracing a path from his mouth to the very spots your fingers had claimed on his neck moments ago.

His low, guttural groan harmonizes with the rhythm as you ascend, reclaiming your perch on him. The dance begins anew, your body moving with purpose, riding the waves of pleasure set in motion by each calculated bounce on his throbbing length.

Yoongi's hands eagerly envelop your breasts, his fingers dancing with the rhythm of your fervent movements. With each descent onto him, you feel a surge of pleasure building, the shared pursuit of ecstasy driving you both towards the brink of blissful release.

His fingers deftly find your sensitive nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. The sensation is so intense that a fractured, high-pitched man escapes your lips, your back arching involuntarily in the exquisite dance of pleasure and pain.

As your walls instinctively clench around his pulsating dick, you witness the pleasure etched across his face, a delightful scrunching of his features that mirrors the ecstasy coursing through both of you.

“Yoongi, I’m com—,” you gasp, a desperate plea laced in your voice. Your words are unnecessary; the vice-like grip of your walls and the erratic cadence of your breath already convey the impending release that hangs thick in the air.

“Come all over my dick,” he smirks through a groan, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Watch yourself fall apart in the mirror.”

How can this man ignite such an intense flame within you? The knot in your stomach tightens once more, and as you surrender to it, a primal, drawn-out moan escapes your lips, echoing the depths of your desire.

With unyielding eyes, you lock onto your own reflection in the mirror as ecstasy courses through you, marking the moment you climax on his d*ck. Your rhythmic bouncing falters, but Yoongi, sensing your need, seizes your hips and propels the pace, driving you deeper into the intoxicating whirlwind of pleasure.

Your mouth hangs open, breaths rapid and erratic, akin to the aftermath of a sprint, while every inch of your body throbs with the residual heat of a fervent blaze.

“So beautiful—FUCK!” he moans, powering into you with an astonishing velocity, sending shivers down your spine.

His hold on your hips tightens, your hands finding refuge on his sculpted chest for support. Your body teeters on the edge of weightlessness and grounding, as if you'd unravel if Yoongi's firm grasp on your hips faltered.

Despite the fatigue washing over you, a surge of determination courses through your veins. Summoning the last reserves of your strength, you entwine your fingers around his neck once more. You sense the impending release in Yoongi's every movement, and you're determined to be the catalyst that propels him over the edge.

The moment your grip tightens around his throat, a powerful surge reverberates through his dick within you, sending intoxicating waves of pleasure coursing through your body. It's an electrifying sensation, making every touch between you more intense and satisfying.

With an intense squeeze, you lock eyes with Yoongi, a plea in your gaze. “Fill me up, Yoongi.”

In a primal release, he surrenders to the moment, thrusting into you with an erratic rhythm, coating your walls with the warmth of his climax.

“Ahh,” he pants, the rush of air filling his lungs as you release your grip on his neck, both of you engulfed in the aftermath of shared release.

You watch him in amazement as his fervent thrusts subside, and he eases into the embrace of your bed, a portrait of passion painted across his beautiful face.

As he gradually softens within you, you take the initiative to lift yourself off him, both of your essences clinging to your skin, a residue of your shared passion that you welcome without reservation.

As you recline beside him, a soft chuckle escapes your lips, a shared breathlessness enveloping both of you. The air in the room is charged with the echo of passion, leaving a tangible energy that binds your entangled forms together.

Breathless and sporting a satisfied grin, he turns to you, his eyes filled with a post-passion glow. “Fuck that was incredible,”' he murmurs, capturing the shared intensity of the moment in the curve of his smile.

An undeniable contentment colors your voice as you respond, “Yeah,” savoring the echoes of pleasure that linger in the air.

Suddenly, a spark of realization ignites within you, propelling you to move with swift purpose. You crawl back on top of him, a burst of energy that startles him, like a surprise in the midst of shared afterglow.

“Why did you leave me?” you inquire, a tinge of accusation laced with the bitter notes in your voice. “Without a word or a farewell. Why did you disappear without a trace?”

His eyes widen momentarily before giving way to an expression of anguish and sadness. A tug at your heart intensifies, as his face alone tells a story you fear can't be good.

He begins with a heavy admission, meeting your eyes with earnest sincerity, “My brother died.”

Your words stumble out in a rush, “Oh, God! I'm so sorry!” The unexpected revelation leaves you fumbling for the right response.

His words flow, carrying a weight of anger and grief, “It's alright. ButI felt so much anger and grief, you know?” he explains, “so much so that I couldn't shapeshift and was stuck in my cat form.”

You exhale a soft ‘aha’ at his words, and the realization washes over you— he was grappling with his own demons, just as you were.

“When I'm consumed by intense emotions, I lose control of my ability to shapeshift, and, and—” You witness a tearful welling in his eyes, prompting you to gently cup his cheeks, reassuring him that it's okay.

“I just wanted to be alone and I didn’t want to burden you…” A few tears spill from his eyes, and you tenderly catch them with your gentle fingers.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, finding solace in the curve of his neck, where his soft minty scent envelops you like a comforting embrace.

“I am so fucking sorry you had to endure that. I understand, truly. But you would never be a burden to me,” you express, gazing into his eyes with a tenderness that echoes your sincerity.

“I want to be there for you,” you declare, your own tears mirroring the empathy in your eyes.

“Ah, shit. I didn’t mean to cry. But, you know, I understand,” you say, your words accompanied by a wry smile as tears trickle down your face and onto Yoongi’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Kitten. I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” 

He seizes your cheeks, tugging you into a tender and unhurried kiss. Time loses its grip, and you're oblivious to the remnants of his seed mingling with your essence, creating a slippery trail between your pussy and his still-slick pelvis.

Lost in the rhythm of your kisses with Yoongi, you surrender to the moment, where every touch feels like a missing puzzle piece seamlessly falling into place.

The two cups of coffee are long forgotten.

Authors note (3): Thank you so very much if you have made it this far 😭 I know this story is a lot – I’ve been dealing with a lot of different stuff for many years, and some of it just got to be too much a few weeks ago, and this story popped into my head. It was therapeutic to write. I don’t know if people will like it or not, but in the end, that’s not what it’s about. It will just exist here.

If you struggle with any of these subjects or emotions, you’re always welcome in my inbox – I’m not a trained psychologist or anything, though! But sometimes it is better to voice your feelings, than struggling in silence. Everybody’s welcome 🫂

I hope you’re doing well. Thank you for you 💜

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[moronkombat]

i think i need raiden nsfw alphabet🫣‼️😍 pls and thank you

god mk1 raiden got me fucked up

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Extremely affectionate and touchy after sex. He checks in on his partner frequently, asking them if it was good for them or if they need anything. He is a dedicated lover and will provide them as much care and attention they need. Truth be told, he is much more partial to the aftercare than the actual sex itself but it probably because he is a hopeless romantic when it comes to relationships

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Raiden is a humble man who practices humility. He does not often admire himself or think of his favorite features. He is proud of his toned arms and continues to work hard to maintain his physique. Often blushes when his partner notices the strength laced in the muscles of his arms

Their eyes. Raiden loves all of his partner through and through but loves their eyes the most. They are his windows to a sky he will find himself lost in

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Has no preference for one over the other. Raiden is not focused on finishing, but rather living in the moment of pleasure with his partner. There are times he cums on his partner's stomach or in a condom as he does not want to risk pregnancy just yet. Though, there are moments when he is far too caught up in lust to notice he has indeed painted his partner's insides white

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Tempted to use his affinity for electricity on his partner while in the bedroom. However, Raiden worries it may be too much and thus has not suggested it but he continues to fantasize about it

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Raiden is a virgin and has no experience at all when it comes to intimacy and sex. He is very open to exploring that subject with his partner, however

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Raiden is traditional and enjoys missionary the most. He feels closely connected to his partner and has the romantic thought of this how married couples sleep with each other which makes him sappily joyous

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Both but not always intentionally. Raiden can make light of things or be rather adorably concerned with his partner's pleasure. Though he is also quite the romantic and will do his best to make the experience incredibly loving

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Raiden is relatively well kempt but not entirely shaved. The hair is short and naturally trim as he does not grow hair on his body easily. In the past he used to be insecure about that fact but has grown to accept it

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Raiden is the master of affection during sex. There's kissing, caressing all along his partner's body. Sex is a declaration of love and he loves his partner so very much. Naturally he will have this declaration of love be intimate, passionate and meaningful

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Raiden does partake in such actions but tries not to. Why? He thinks it to be improper and boyish but he but a man with urges that cannot be sated all the time. He mostly masturbates in the shower and will feel a bit ashamed or embarrassed after. Yet, he keeps partaking in this act so how guilty is he really?

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Body Worship- Cannot stop himself from admiring his partner's body inside and out. He vocalizes his thoughts on his partner's body openly during sex and will have his lips explore all that you have exposed to him

Shibari- Raiden loves the beauty of it. There is an exhilarating tranquility about it that intoxicates him. Raiden prefers when he and his partner enjoy the experience together rather than just one being bound by such freeing ropes

Praise- He becomes quite the puppy dog when receiving praise from his partner. His spine curls and twists, and his hips move faster and eager. He wants to please his partner and to know he is doing just that sends him to heaven

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Intimate places such as a bedroom or living room. He feels honored to be in his partner's living space and feels a swell of domestic bliss when he takes his partner in his bed. It reminds Raiden of being married which is ultimately his goal with his partner

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Raiden is brought into that intimate mood when his partner is affectionate and when displaying those cuddly acts of love. Raiden loves the concept of love so when his partner is showing that he gets this rather insatiable high. He is also turned on by those little love hickeys he and his partner leave on each other. His eyes find them painted on your skin and fingers ghost over his own and soon he is wishing to get you alone

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Manipulating tendencies in a person is his biggest turn off. He finds that to be foul and low. He does not want someone in his life who uses others to gain advantages

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves giving oral because of how much it makes you moan and squirm. He knows he's making you feel good and that, in turn, makes him feel good. Don't be fooled though. He is a secret lover of receiving oral. He's a panting mess when he receives it

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He starts off very slow and slowly eases himself into a faster paceOnce he begins to really get into things he can hardly stop. He's fast and panting, chasing this new sensation and wanting more and more

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not opposed to it but prefers to have long and intimate sex with his partner. To have sex quickly is to deny that full declaration of love and adoration. However, Raiden is quite attracted to the idea of a quick little physical chat about love between the two of you

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Raiden is always up for experimentation. He will try anything his partner wants to unless it involves manipulating or hurting another person. Other than that he is game to try new things with his partner

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Raiden has quite a bit of stamina and could probably do three rounds in one sitting but he rarely does considering one round can take a considerable amount of time

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

While he does not own any toys, he is open to trying them in the bedroom. Anything to enhance love making with his partner, Raiden is willing to try

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Raiden is a tease but he doesn't see it that way. He loves to really take his him with his partner, leaving them dangling on that edge again and again. He wants to them to feel everything over and over which can lead to his partner becoming overstimulated or left just on the edge of pleasure

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Raiden will get vocal and is unabashed with letting you know just how good you feel. He moans or softly grunts into your ear and whispers praise to you frequently. Get him really going and he becomes a rather loud bedroom partner

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Raiden fantasizes about your wedding day often and gets rather hard thinking about your wedding night. He can't wait until he marries you and fucks you for the first time as your husband

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Raiden is built lean but toned. He is refined in muscle tone but not carved from marble. He can appear quite soft but is anything but when you run your hands along him. He is also exceptionally flexible which has its many advantages

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Raiden's sex drive is rather moderate. He and his partner will have sex multiple times a week but not typically more than once a day. It not that he doesn't want to have sex frequently, he does but he also likes taking his time

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Raiden is often not tired after sex but his partner is and so he is content with laying beside them as they fall asleep. Once his partner has fallen asleep, Raiden is quick to follow and holds them tight throughout the night

#mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat fanworks #mortal kombat headcanons #mk1 #mortal kombat x reader #mk raiden #raiden x reader #mortal kombat smut

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Would you mind talking more about Ghost? I dig your interpretation on him so i'm curious if you'd share your thoughts; since i know how COD in general writes these characters and we know romance isn't on the table for them, ESP for someone like Ghost (even confimred by his voice actor too!)

So all that aside, in your opinion, what would it take to win Ghost's heart (or well, Simon's)? :)

It's great to hear you like my interpretation of Ghost! I'll gladly share my thoughts on this, the supposed love life of Simon Riley is one of my favorite subjects 🧐

Thoughts on what would it take to win Simon's heart under the cut ->

To be honest I see it highly unlikely that Ghost would date. I think Samuel Roukin's opinion on this matter was spot on. Simon's traumatic background, trust issues, the need to stay anonymous and his profession as a special ops soldier is just too heavy a combo. His family's murder and multiple betrayals have pushed him on a path of extreme independence and made him evade any kind of attachment.

That being said... I'm a hopeless romantic and love to imagine scenarios just like every other little simp here 🩷💋, and I've pictured (and occasionally written) him to be drawn to someone who is principally the opposite of himself, but who also has a dash of angst in their heart and firsthand experience or at least some basic understanding of complex trauma.

A positive vibes only/sunshine type of person would not resonate well with his darkness, and a carefree joker would only annoy him. Then again, there's Soap – but the thing with John MacTavish is that he shares the same profession and in that way, is not a stranger to the Underworld. Their banter is also evidence enough that Soap is not afraid of Ghost's madness and even looks up to him – actually a perfect way to make someone like Ghost enjoy your company. This man has a terrible praise kink but he can't stand spineless bootlickers. So the adoration should happen in a "I trust you and would follow you to hell & back" kind of way.

However, due to the shit he's been through, I'd say (contrary to popular headcanon, I dunno?) that Simon would likely fall for someone outside the military world. First of all, he's very uncomfortable with the fact that his partner has to fear for his safety. But the fear of losing his partner to the dangers of this profession would be a little too much. It would only trigger a shitload of PTSD stuff. The fear of losing a loved one again would override the mutual experience and bonding through warfare, all the elements which otherwise might be pull factors in a military love interest. On the other hand, people with traumatic backgrounds tend to repeat the pattern, no matter how horrific or unsafe, simply because it's familiar. Still, I'd say someone from the base personnel would be a more alluring option for him. The shared hell, so to say, could make the foundations of this relationship quite dark. Not that it's necessarily a bad thing!

Deep down, Simon would be attracted to softness. Not innocence, per se, just something different from the realm in which he operates. This is why I think he could definitely fall for "a normie". He would appreciate dark humor and a certain kind of fearlessness, however. What ultimately would win his heart is someone who can stand, even cherish, his melancholy and cynicism and life choices and who is not on a quest to change or "fix" him.

I think Simon's ultimate wish is to find a home because he has lost it (or hasn't really had one in the first place). He's a leader and has to provide safety and support on a daily basis to the people under his command. But who offers support and safety to him? He knows how to protect people but doesn't know how to create a safe space, so he would appreciate someone who makes him feel he's finally found his way home. I think he yearns for a small measure of peace and a slice of normal life to wash away the adrenaline and blood and filth, he wants a small corner free from the demons that haunt him, even if he would reluctantly (if ever) admit that he does.

#answered #ghost headcanons #simon riley headcanons

[idlerin]

LOVE SICK

a suna rintarou social media au

pairing. suna rintarou x f!reader

synopsis. cupid! calling cupid! as the resident matchmaker slash hopeless romantic of tokyo university, you are the person people look for to get love advice or to set them up with the love of their lives. when suna rintarou comes to you asking for the opposite, to help fend people away from trying to get with him, to the extremes of even asking to fake date you, you couldn't refuse! mostly because you did owe him since he was on the receiving end of a bunch of your clients’ unsuccessful love efforts (hey, you do warn them your matchmaking only has a 62.3% success rate).

tags. social media au, college au, fake dating, matchmaker, romance, crack, humor, fluff!

warnings. time stamps are irrelevant !!, foul language (aka cursing), drinking/alcohol

status. on-going (02/15/24 —)

— playlist.

teasers

[name]’s reading list | suna’s playlist | [name]’s in trouble !

profiles

ppl who think love sucks + [name] | inarizaki dogs

episodes !

chapter names may be subjected to change as the fic goes along.

( ❥ ) — has narrative parts

ACT I

01. romance 101 w [l/n] [name] !

02. aren’t you like, cupid

03. the bucket list

04. dead, shattered, devastated

05. it’s all cliché and full of obvious red flags

06. passion is a passing thing

07. keep your eyes on me

08. im a matchmaker not a mathematician

09. ur like an exothermic reaction

10. a witch! she's a witch!

ACT II

11. my dearest,

12. lol didn’t think u were mine

13. who cares if he’s a bit psychotic (he’s hot)

14. the grumpy x sunshine trope

15. shitty romance books

16. will they won’t they

17. season of hearts

18. touch some grass

19. and the world stills

20. being with you is ecstasy

ACT III

21. will they/won’t they

22. you hate me? so enemies to lovers?

tba !

taglist is OPEN !

to be added to the taglist you can just send in an ask or comment :)

notes. hi so this was like supposed to be posted on valentines but i got impatient and hey its still the month of love so whatever ehe will not start till i finish nonsense since i need to learn how to do stuff one at a time! but yeah super excited to make this bc i love fake dating and i love suna rintarou hohoho thank you guys sm for 400 followers i love you all <3

icons used as pfps are not mine but the content of this smau is. please do not repost this on any other platform. © idlerin 2023

#haikyuu smau series #haikyuu #hq #suna rintarou x reader #haikyuu x reader #— lovesick. #— mlist. #hq x reader #haikyuu smau #hq smau #haikyuu suna rintarou #suna rintarou #suna rintarou x you #suna rintarou fluff #haikyuu fluff #smau #smau series #fake dating #love guru #social media au #suna rintarou smau #suna x you #rintarou x you #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader fluff

[badaziraphaletakes]

can you please stop? screenshotting someone else’s post is extremely rude and only makes the fandom a worse place. talk about a bad take you saw, describe how it’s harmful, and vague all you want, but don’t screenshot. i agree that most of these takes are awful but that’s no excuse to do this to people. either confront the person who’s take you don’t like or make your own post. stop screenshotting, please.

Either confront the person who’s take you don’t like or make your own post.

The assumption that I didn’t try that is where you went wrong. I (mod X) started this blog only after I tried many, many times to confront people about their offensive takes directly and it didn’t work. I was subjected to appalling harassment and even bigotry. That’s what happens when you try to engage with someone who’s being offensive.

I had been throwing the idea around for weeks and what finally decided me on starting it was that I found out that I wasn't alone. That the anti-Autistic bias and the ableism and the transphobia and the victim-blaming and the misogyny (and on and on and on) that we kept seeing and being subjected to was ruining our enjoyment of this show. This was bigger than just me.

FTR, most of the takes that are submitted to us (note that I'll be switching between "I" and "we" in this reply depending on the context) don’t have a handle attached to them, but of the few that do include a handle, 99% of the time I have recognized it as someone who I have seen being so bigoted that there was no possible way I could engage with them. We don't confront people directly partly because we don't want to direct people who disagree back to the OP's blog, and partly to keep the mods safe.

You say “do this to people” like this blog is committing some kind of outrage, which is absurd. We are, at worst, being slightly rude (which I think is justified considering sarcasm and humor are one of the only weapons we have to fight back against hate), whereas most of the posts we comment on are outright hateful. They’re the ones “doing this to people”.

We are being far more considerate of the writers’ feelings and their dignity than they ever were of other people’s in the fandom. The takes are not just ‘awful’ (although, that too haha); they are actively harming vulnerable members of the fandom, and, more concerningly, are spreading messages that will poison our views on how we should treat Autistic people, ab*se survivors, and the like in broader society. Quite frankly, the people who are spouting the kind of anti-Autistic/ableist/victim-blaming/otherwise bigoted crap that forms the bulk of the content we feature here deserve to have their posts screenshotted. People who say things like that do not deserve to be handled with kid gloves in response.

(Also I don’t have time to re-type and slightly paraphrase every bad take I see. And if I did, people would throw out “no one is really saying this”. And even if it weren’t for that, I don’t think it’s reasonable or appropriate to expect me to use my time that way.)

Incidentally, nothing is stopping people from messaging/asking us or commenting if they recognize a post as their own, but only one person has ever done that, asking if a post was theirs. I replied that it was, leaving the ball in their court. So far we haven’t heard back from them about the matter, which is fine. But I digress.

As for this blog making the fandom a worse place - even though it’s only a few weeks old, I’ve had an average of two new people a day, every day, tell me how grateful they are I created it and how it makes them feel safe and how it’s the only reason they haven’t left the fandom. I’ve even had multiple people say “I was going to leave the fandom because of that specific post and then your blog called it out and I felt like I wasn’t alone”. So yeah, I'd say screenshotting is important here.

There is a subset of the fandom - many of us Autistic, Disabled, ab*se survivors, GNC, trans, and/or otherwise oppressed - who have been made to feel EXTRAORDINARILY unsafe by the Aziraphale hate (which far, far too often is thinly-veiled hate for some of the aforementioned groups of people) and the truly scary way people double down when we push back against it. So I don’t care if people are annoyed by my sharing a screenshot of their post. Not when this blog has become a safe space for so many people who otherwise would have had Good Omens ruined for them by the bigotry and general hatefulness we keep seeing.

LSS I will not stop building this tiny lil corner of the internet that is the only part of the fandom where many of us feel safe.

I actually made a post addressing almost this exact thing a couple weeks ago; if I can find it, I’ll add it here in a rb.

#good omens #goodomens #good omens 2 #badaziraphaletakes #goodomens2

[thecameronchronicles]

Undercover

TW: Extremely Dom!Rafe. Smut. Language. Coercive behaviors. Degrading language. Bondage. Mentions of drugs. Use of drugs. Choking kink. Good girl kink. Slapping. Gun play. 

SUMMARY: You are undercover to bust the drug ring within the higher class of the Outer Banks, unaware that Rafe is on to you, and means to make you pay…

WORD COUNT: 4200

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

Undercover

Your eyes narrowed to him from over the rim of your chosen mocktail, a guise of drinking among the masses to keep from blowing your own cover. All to study him and wait for the perfect moment you would offer yourself in order to ‘strike’. A subtle obliteration he wouldn’t understand until he was left in the debris of what you intended. But even as your eyes surveyed him, you couldn’t deny the way he was a pleasing subject to look at. The effects of his chosen vices having yet to touch his youthful looks as you bit the edge of your cup in thinking of differed circumstances would make him a target as a one night stand. 

But you had a job to do. And you were not one to allow your hormones to get in the way. And yet, you’d never met someone quite like Rafe Cameron before…

“One hit each and I’m expecting payment for more, it’s the good shit…come on, don’t be cheap or I’ll throw your ass to the pogues…” He caused the group to chuckle as you added yourself into the feigned humor to keep from drawing suspicion. But from the second you made yourself known, all eyes were suddenly peeled to you. Just as you had observed him, he had done to you. Shameless stripes made of his eyes, up and down your physique, as you’d worn something just enticing enough to give the appearance of confidence battling low self esteem and the need to quell your daddy issues. 

“Is this all you have?” You asked, the group suddenly silent as he pulled another two bags from his pockets, an impressive amount on hand for what was rather courageous considering you could have been anyone. A detective even…

“I was looking for a real party…You don’t even have enough to last an hour…” You shot, aware girls who threw themselves to his feet were what he’d be used to. Therefore flattery would get you nowhere. Or at least not where you wanted to be. For that, you journeyed to your feet before being pulled by his grasp. A quick and harsh grasp that was anything but compassionate. If anything, it was a threat of what could happen if you weren’t careful. 

“You got the cash?”

“You got the coke?” You shot back, throwing your hand back to your side as his jaw cocked. 

“Sort this out for me, yeah?” He asked a friend, leaving the other supply behind before following you. From a simple observation with his hand on your lower back, it would appear as a decent enough interaction. And yet the raging fire behind his eyes would validate it was anything but. 

“Through here…” He finally offered after taking you through the entire extent of the house. A beautiful plantation plagued with the recklessness of adolescence. Stains of carelessness worn into the walls as you crossed over the threshold of a private room with the door closing behind you. Once the door locked, your eyes flashed to him in concern. 

“Don’t want any interruptions now do we?”

“Where is it?” You asked, appearing as gluttonous as his eyes were for you. 

“In that closet. Top shelf.” You turned to open the doors, finding one to stick before forcing it open. On the very tips of your toes, you were able to see the racks he spoke of. Only they were only housing perfectly stacked shoe boxes and a handful of nicknacks of a lack of importance. 

“It’s not-” But as you turned to counter him, he was already at your back, pushing you against the closet door completely. The way he hovered over you nearly swallowed you whole as you had prepared yourself for this very thing. His reputation made it clear he was one quick to anger. Kook or Pogue, didn’t make a difference. Yes, you had accounted for everything. 

Except how your body would respond to him. 

“You think I’m stupid, don’t you?” Before you could answer, he continued his apparently rhetorical question, “A pretty girl I would have noticed at any other party suddenly wants more coke than her ass can handle and you think I wouldn’t care? I wouldn’t find it suspicious-” But as his eyes washed over you in a display of clear lust and need, his head cocked as if doing so allowed him to gain a better view of what you offered gladly as eye candy.

“If you don’t have what I need, you could have just said so…Guess I was wrong…” You shot back, narrowing your eyes, before turning to leave. Only you weren’t allowed even a step before his arm projected before your face. A thick forearm roped in muscle acting as a starting point for the climb of your eyes to reach back to his blue irises darkened by desire. Carnal or chaotic was yet to be determined. 

“You were wrong…Thinking I wouldn’t notice what you’re trying to do…” He pushed you into the wood of the closet door, his knee rising between your legs to keep you from raising them to escape or angled against him in any way. 

“What are you doing?” You asked quickly as his fingers took hold of the silk you’d chosen to wear. A tight blouse that hung low as he ripped it directly down the center. His jaw set aside in disbelief but also pride in himself as he came upon the microphone set between your breasts. You swallowed hard. 

“Now what would you have this for?” He asked, playing coy. Before you could respond, his fingers dipped just far enough in your bra to trace the chilled skin beneath. 

“Think you can take me down? Then you’re going with me…” His second hand was in your panties before you could stop him. Your body quick to arch and your lips immediate in a separation as you rode into him. 

“Let them hear how good you are at your job, you little slut…If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was actually making you want to come…” Your lips came open to object, but he only forced those same digits into your mouth as he lowered the microphone to your thighs. Offering a look of warning, he brought his fingers back to your sex, caution left to the wind as you squelched to each piston. 

“Go ahead, the more you fight it, the harder you’re gonna come…” He lowered himself closer to your ear. “Don’t torture yourself. That’s my job.” With that,he withdrew his fingers. 

“This what you wanted?” You asked as he pulled the dime bag of cocaine from his back pocket. But as you expected him to bring it away, he used his fingers still slick with you, before dipping it into the container. 

“Mmm…” Your cheeks became hot. Too hot. 

Enough to remind you of what was at stake if you allowed yourself to remain. Rafe wasn’t some innocent bystander manipulated by those he trusted. He wasn’t in a situation in which his life was on the line if he attempted to do ‘the right thing’. He was just as responsible for the lives lost from drugs like this. And yet his presence was intoxicating enough that you understood why every warning against them could be easily ignored. 

Yet at the last moment in which temptation held you within its clutches, your eyes flashed to the door. Your feet set off before you could second guess yourself. 

“I’m not near done with you yet, baby…” He explained as he pushed you against the door just long enough to make this threat before pulling you by your hair until you were on the edge of the bed. 

“If you were any other girl, I would have you ass up on this bed until you screamed my name in pleasure…” He brought you closer to him until your lips teased him. 

“But you’re nothing but a liar and a slut who needs to be taught a lesson.” He tossed you onto the bed, moving to the bedside table and producing a gun. 

“Tell me why you’re really here.” You paused as he stood between your legs at the end of the bed. The cold nose of the pistol at the tip of your knee and descending between your thighs. Closer and closer to the pulsation he made from a mix of danger and anticipation. 

“I want to know what you know.”

“Enough. I know enough…” 

He leaned over you, threatening your panties to the side with the nose of the gun before using it at your lower lips. He pulled them apart as you trembled, truly uncertain of what he would do. And yet every nerve in your body was exhilarated by it. 

“So you know I’d hurt you and not think twice about leaving you somewhere nobody would ever find you…” You swallowed hard before he quickened the weapon. 

“But not until I have my fun first. Maybe showing me you’re worth keeping around.” He withdrew the weapon and replaced it with his cock as you moaned in approval. Your stomach twisted and tightened to the voices within your head reminding you how immoral and unjust this was. You spent years in an academy and within a job to ruin soulless individuals like the male Camerons. Ones that used intimidation and threats such as this very one to keep their role in society. And yet, the way his touch burned you from the outside in had been enough to ignore this reminder. 

“Knees." He spoke simply, as if a king demanded his subject. For the briefest of moments of silent rejection you watched his eyes shine with amusement. 

"If I have to ask again-" he interrupted himself. 

"Stand up." Your eyes flashed before he pulled you back up by your hair. 

"They got to hear enough…" He explained while tearing the microphone from your body, separating it from the pack at your back, and sending both to the floor in ruin. 

"Everything else you say and do will be for me." He traced the gun between your breasts, circling your nipples. He watched and basked in every flinch of your body, getting off on the fear behind your eyes more than the soft moans from your lips. 

"Take off what's left of your shirt." After a hesitation, you submitted to his order. Your fingers gingerly peeled the fabric freely from your arms until it fell to the floor. 

"Did I say to drop it on the floor?" He hesitated for a moment. 

"Pick. It. Up." You obeyed before watching him set the gun onto the bed. Of course with your training you could easily maneuvering against him. And yet, you simply didn't want to. Whatever he had in store, you wanted to endure. Curiosity and lust too strong to silence. 

"Can't have you trying anything stupid." He left knots right enough to cause the perfect bite into your skin. Just enough to be reminded of his dominance without the temptation to slip free. 

"Perfect…" he confessed, the only kindness he had shown so far. And the only kindness he would. 

You were pushed into your back until you collided with the mattress, the fabric tied to the headboard. Yet, you were positioned in such a way that allowed you to hang off the edge of the bed. And this was his intention. 

"Don't want to tell me? Then show me what good your mouth is before I put a bullet in it instead." He set himself into your upside down mouth, your eyes closing to the pressure at the back of your throat. 

"Fuck!" He breathed deeply no matter your fight. As your toes gripped onto the sheets beneath you and you reacted violently to the way he held you down with force, his fingers came to your clit. The angle was uncomfortable. The pain was excruciating between breathlessness and stretching. But that touch was enough to forgive everything. 

"Jesus, you're such a fucking slut for me, aren't you? Don't even have to try and you're willing to do anything to come…" He held himself in the back of your throat as you trembled beneath him, withdrawing ss stars set behind your eyes, and repeating this process in preparation. Not a moment of comfort. And it made you so fucking wet for him.

"If you only would have gotten on your knees when I asked, could've been better for you…" he scoffed to his own words before aligning himself into you from behind. 

"Now…you shut that pretty little mouth before I leave it bruised. And just maybe you can come…" He was inside of you before you could object, not that you could or wanted to. Your body a mere outlet for his tensions as you favored his brutality. Even as he buried your face to the sheets below, every battering made you moan out for him. Every smack to your ass sending you to sing in labored winces, before he finally pulled you against his chest. A single pull of your bonds allowed your hands my mobile enough to be taken by him but still bound at the wrist. 

"How many people have you arrested?" 

"Ah…" you moaned to his fingers at your clit, teasing and pulling before he hit the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

"That's an easy question…or you too fucked out already?" He smirked against your cheek. "You think that's bad…you aren't prepared for what's coming…" he abandoned you at his bed. His absence sent you to turn and face him, watching him return with his belt that was hanging on the closet door prior. 

"I've already made your ass the perfect shade of red, don't worry…" He paused. 

"This is for me…" he bound your thighs with the belt, forcing it together, before hiking your legs over his shoulder. 

"You can't stay fucking still…this should help…" he hovered over you, tightening the loop until it ate into your legs as his hand came to your neck. 

"Shame you don't have your cuffs, might have let you tie me up, God knows it's the only way you'd get me…" he teased. 

"Please…" you whimpered. 

"The big bad detective wouldn't be begging now would she? Your pussy that desperate for me?" You nodded, teeth tensed closed, as your eyes attempted to plead with him. 

"Then tell me why you're here…" 

"B-barry…" The name of your informant slipped from your lips. Whatever code of conduct was ashes to your feet. 

"Sold me out?" You gasped as he slowly thrusted into you. 

"But you should get a reward for telling me, don't you think?"

"Yes!" You begged as he smirked. One hand to your breast as he twisted your nipple. But as you found comfort in this, a cold sting came to your cheek. 

"Stop closing your eyes. You look at me and show me how grateful you are that I'm being nice or I'll have to go back to hurting you…Believe me…I prefer that much better…" 

You kept your eyes to him as you watched his face contort. Perfect pleasure as he pulled himself into an arch. 

"Jesus, you feel so fucking tight. Not what I expected for such a little whore…" He scoffed. 

"Come here-" he unlatched the belt around your thighs and brought it around your throat. In one grip he held the tail to the belt as well as the binds of your arms before retying the knots at your wrist. 

"You're gonna ride me until you make me come. Do it how I want and you can come on my face…"

Your eyes rolled as you worked for that reason. Every inhibition shattered and every warning ignored as he pulled you down onto him to initiate the beginning. 

"Work for it." He instructed again. Only as he had, you took complete dominance. Your body worked overtime to please him, not a moment of pause as you attempted to dry him out within you. You would have given nearly anything to have that power over him. Even if only for a moment. 

"You are desperate…shit!" He groaned as he pulled himself deeper. 

"Changed my mind…get up here…" he moved you to his face until your thighs framed him. 

"You do it quick or you don't get to come at all." His tongue and teeth worked in unison against you. A cruel hit on your hip, leading  you faster. But with each motion came your reaction. You were tired but desperate, washing over him in rushed bibs before he pinned you down and spread you wider with the same force. 

"Fucking come already!" He spat between suction as you moaned over him, your hands desperate to return the favor to him as he sent you in tremors. 

"Yes!" He growled, turning you as you shivered from the rush, eating you through that orgasm. Your hands remained pinned behind you as he pulled you harder into his tongue. 

"So fucking sweet…" he spoke while rising from your thighs. 

"Now it's the fun part…" he teased, hitting at your clit as you gasped beneath him. Quick slaps from a low height that worked with the same sensations a vibrator would have left against you. Overstimulation sending your thighs in a threat to close as he hit your breast. 

"Keep your fucking legs open."

"I can't!"

"Do I gotta stick my cock back in there to make you behave again?" 

You were tempted to rival him just to taste him again. To have dominance over him again. But he was too convicted to his own ambition.

"Dirty fucking girl…come on…" You weren't sure what he was asking for specifically. But your body seemed to answer that request as you came again. A wave too strong to silence as you shook beneath him. Your hips bucking as he kept you flat. 

"There…now you stay fucking still for me. You've got yours. Now it's my turn " he thrust sharply. Snaps made of selfish motions as you were nearly dissolved into the mattress. Every minor sensation intensified by the two orgasms he carefully curated to tease the third incoming. All for this moment. 

"If you come before me, you'll be fucking sorry…so greedy. You'll wait." He slapped your cheek as you arched. Your mind dizzy with how much you should loathe him. Yet, you felt you were in debt to him. For the orgasms. For the pleasure. Even for the pain…

God, the pain…

"Ahhh…"

"Turn around. I don't wanna see you come again. You've had your fair fucking share…" To this, he grunted and groaned, his cock refamiliarized with your dripping folds. 

"Ass up-'" He explained while pulling your hips high. 

"Yes…good girl." He used the back of his hand with the ring to leave a mark on your left cheek. 

"Isn't it better when you behave? Not so fucking hard either is it?"

"I wanna watch you ruin that pretty little manicure in my sheets-" he untied your hands and allowed them freely as you obeyed. Your nails gripped sharply into the sheets as you were rooted into the same fabric. Your body a mess as you were close to yet another unbuckling beneath him. 

"Don't fucking come!"

"Then slow down-" He pulled the belt around your throat until it tightened. You were set at his chest as he used the hold to both interrupt your breathing and remind you of your forgotten submission. 

"You don't tell me how to fuck you. Did you have to when you came the first two times, baby?" 

"No-" he answered for you. "Now,' He used his second hand at your clit again. Pain and pleasure battling once again as you fought to keep from coming undone for him. You didn't want to allow him a third. But the tightness around your throat only worsened your need. An unknown kink set alight as you trembled in front of him. 

"You're acting like a fucking virgin, coming so much…"

"You're…"

"Too good?" You nodded. 

"I know baby…so don't piss me off so I can give us what you both want…" he took turns between your clit and ass, fisting and contorting your breast in the final moments before he released the belt. 

"I wanna hear you scream. Make sure everyone on the other side of that little microphone hears you too-" he produced it from his side, having taken it when he left for the belt. 

"Bet every guy listening wants to come just hearing how wet you are for me…" he moved his lips to the microphone. 

"So…fucking…tight." He set the microphone to your joint hips. Every depraved sound is nicely memorized in the echo as you were lost to another pulsating orgasm. Only this one was painful as he continued to fuck you through it. 

"Hear that? Making her come again …don't fuck with me." He threw it away before turning you to face him. A grip to your jaw. 

"Think you can pull one over on me and get away with it?" 

"Answer me!" He slapped your face, pulling your hair to force you to view him withdrawing from you. 

"Oh, you like watching it? Then watch-" he pulled you higher. The sight made your eyes roll as you winced. 

"That sound right fucking there is better then when you come….does it hurt baby?" You nodded. 

"Good, should teach you your lesson…" he explained as you moaned beneath him. 

"Please .."

"I don't think you've learned it baby…" 

"I swear!"

"You just wanna coke again…"

You paused. Unable to deny it. 

"Battered little pussy is already crying. And you still want one more?" 

"Answer me!"

"Yes!" You shouted back.

 "Fuck me!" He rutted into you. Deep penetration too swift to comprehend before he became sloppy. His finish dripping from both of you as he withdrew. And yet, he remained convicted against you. 

"I'm not done." He pulled you between his naked thighs, your ankles pinned beneath his on the side of the bed while his fingers attached your sex. 

"We're not done until you squirt."

"It hurts." He slapped your cheek, softly, as if such a thing could exist. 

"Do you think it will feel any better if you try and stop me?! No…you're gonna squirt because it's gonna be so fucking hot…and you're gonna do it just for me…" He groaned into your ear. 

"So shut the hell up and fucking spray for me. I'll even make it easy…" he was vengeful to your pussy, pistoning fingers as you rose up to follow only to feel him withdrawal. 

"Ugh!"

"Yeah?"

"Yes! Fuck! Rafe!"

"I like when you scream my name baby…let's see if you still can when I make you come this time…" his fingers pistoned and then focused on your clit, denying you the pleasure of both sensations. 

"Please please please! Rafe!"

"You wanna be my good girl? Wanna make me proud?" 

"Yes…" he followed his hand as he scoffed. 

"All over my hand. Right now. I know you're desperate. There she is! Look at you! Yes…making such a fucking mess all over me…" Your body betrayed you completely as you chased that bitter high. His hold at your nipple and the other at your clit sendong your body to new heights in every sense as you squirted over the sheets before you. But in the middle of your high, he was inside you again. 

"I told you…I wasn't near done."

By the time he has been, your body was stretched and pulled well beyond limits. Your name spoken in ecstasy from his lips as it came off of hatred from your own. Cum staining every visible surface as you blushed to the scene left behind. 

"Now you're smart enough to know what would happen if you try to go against me, right baby?" His hand took hold of your breast. 

"No another night like this…and I think we both need it…" you paused, biting your bottom lip. 

"You want more?" 

You nodded. 

"Then meet me back here in an hour. I need to handle some business…and then that ass is mine…" he smacked your backside before leaving you alone in the room. 

You dove to the microphone when he left. 

"I'm earning his trust…I just need another minute…" You explained, hoping it was believable, tearing through this room before realizing he wouldn't store it somewhere so obvious. Instead, you moved throughout the party, careful not to be seen by him, until coming into an office. Having done so as he was in search of you, nursing another swollen erection as he climbed the steps to make you handle him.

Insatiable bastard. 

Not that you could judge as you were tempted to follow him. Willing to drop to your knees and do what was necessary for his fingers to end up back in you-

Focus!

"What…" Your eyes narrowed to the contents of the drawer you'd happened upon. One left open in a hurry. A pair of glasses set in place that were identifiable enough to know they didn't belong to Ward. But a missing person. 

Big John Routledge. Who went missing a year prior. 

Suddenly this was more than drugs. This was more than a small bust. And it gave you an excuse to return to Rafe and rectify a night of promised orgasms…

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @drewspisces @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916 @belcalis9503

MASTERLIST

RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

MARCH MADNESS MASTERLIST

2ND RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

3RD RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

*LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANTED MORE PARTS!*

#rafe x reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron smut #rafecameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks smut #outer banks rafe #outerbanks #outerbanks fanfiction #outerbanks smut #obx #obx fanfiction #obx smut #drew starkey

[anyaeras]

A twisted love story || W.Maximoff (Part One)

Pairing || Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary || Wanda falls in love with Starks intern, who due to their past is very bright and soon becomes an avenger, growing closer with Wanda during their time together. Wanda would like to keep them close

Warnings || long ,, fluff ,, angst ,, child testing ,, memory loss ,, nightmares ,, slightly possessive Wanda ,, leading to dark!wanda

Master list

Part 2 (coming soon)

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New York was the city that made dreams come true, it was the city that never slept and it was the Big Apple, it was even home to many of the worlds greatest heroes the avengers.

Y/n was young and the very bright person they worked extremely hard to get closer to their dreams, moving to New York City wasn't easy for the young adult they left a lot of their family behind and lost a lot of support, yet after awhile, and many long, tedious hours they were able to get into a stark internship while it was a little confusing, there wasn't much information on what they were really looking for, and it honestly it seemed a little out of the ordinary. It wasn't a hard job if you think about it, now you didn't get paid but you got the experience, three days a week you attended the avengers tower from 2pm to 5pm.

They had been going to the office on this schedule for a while now, and Wanda Maximoff had it marked down in her calendar, it seemed whenever y/n was in the building, so was she.

Y/n was in the office running around with stacks of boxes, trying to get to where they needed to be as Wanda watched from a distance, leaning up against the desk, not too far from y/n's traveling path. Wanda perked up when she noticed The internal starting to stumble boxes, slowly slipping away, as they try to compose their balance, the witch was quick to hop in using her powers to hold the boxes in an upright position, red wisps floated in front of the young adults face, which allowed them to regain their balance, y/n began coming down from the shock of nearly falling, before observing how the boxes were afloat.

"Falling for me hmm?" Wanda joked as she slowly set the box's down into y/n's arms correctly, as you laughed softly at the scarlet witch's statement while feeling embarrassed for yourself, what caught you off? Guard was the scarlet witch, who is feared by so many yet in this moments, she seemed so kind. y/n saw her sweet and pleasantly warming, now Wanda, on the other hand, saw this is an opportunity.

"Hey, if you ever need some help around here, I know dealing with everyone around here can be a pain, feel free to ask for me or my assistant" Wanda stated with a soft yet very fake innocent smile her words were coated in a dimmed Sokovian accent, after the quick interaction, Wanda had left allowing y/n to continue their work, slipping into the elevator to go back to the avengers only section of the tower, yet along the way, Wanda bumped into a fiery redhead.

"Is stark's intern your new little play thing?" The Russian asked in a humorous way, almost laughing at the Sokovian, yet the scarlet witch only gave a small huff in an "as if" sort away as a reply.

"I don't want them Natasha" I want to lied even with a knowledge, Natasha, being a well trained widow, who could definitely see through the lie, but either way, the subject was dropped for the moment, well until it wasn't...

Meanwhile y/n was running around moving boxes and sorting out stuff inside some of the labs, at one point they found themselves working with some scrap parts that were laying around just for fun, yet those few minutes of free time seem to get away from them. They were pulled away from the project by the sound of the big boss man, stark.

"a little late for you to be hanging around" Tony said in the question like manner, looking down at his naked wrist, as if he had a watch on to prove his Point.

"Oh sorry I totally lost track of time, I didn't even realize I was off the clock" y/n quickly responded justifying their actions. The older man didn't seem to care too much. He came over, peering at what you had put together in your time in the honestly extremely outdated lab.

"so it seems like you've been working. That's good I don't pay bright minds for nothin" stark laughed at his own comment, y/n had thought about mentioning that they are an unpaid intern that HE had hired, but y/n just brushed it off y/n went on plugging in the small robotic looking box they had made in your now not so free time, Tony watched curiously from behind y/n, as they begin to connect the small box to a computer nearby opening up a few different software's until they found the correct one, moving over to stand off to the side, allowing the avenger behind them take a look at the device, y/n started to explain the device was a traveling AI. It could fit the needs of the carrier at any moment.Might they need a nurse or a genius war strategist, at this point if this box got a physical body, it could become its own superhero, and be a great weapon. The explanation managed to render Tony speechless.

"You had no plans or prior research building this?" He asked almost speaking to himself as he questioned getting only a negative response from the intern in front of him

"And you've never made this before?" He asked again getting the same response.

"Come with me" the broad statement from Iron Man caused y/n not to move, thinking about what he just said over in their mind, taking it an entirely different way.

"Not to my damn bed. I got a wife and pepper honestly isn't one for a threesome, well, at least I don't think?" He question himself before shaking it off.

"Anyway follow me newbie" this time y/n got up following Tony throughout the avengers tower and pushing through a set of glass doors into a very nice office.

"Furry. This is the one we're gonna keep it." Was all that Tony said to the one, and only Nick fury who gave a raised eyebrow as a reply back to the avenger. Y/n made eye contact with the man across the desk momentarily before breaking the contact looking back at Stark in pure confusion.

"Why?" the question was about you yeah, it wasn't directly for you to reply to.

"Their a genius, much brighter than banner, skilled in medical as well and war strategy I think they would be a great asset" Tony said in a matter-of-factly manner leaving y/n with a

Proud feeling in their chest.

Nick finally turned his full attention to y/n aiming a question.

"Where are you from, and do you know what you got yourself into?" Y/n didn't fully understand exactly what was asked yet they spit out a nervous reply.

"I'm from the Midwest, now living alone in the city, I wanna go back to school, oh and about the last thing I feel like I'm going to find out." Y/n replied keeping their past to themself on purpose while also trying to sound confident in their reply. They gained a small smirk from furry which the stamens "show them around the tower" was also received; and like that y/n was being pulled away into an elevator going to the locked section of the tower, the doors of the elevator opened in the center of a elegant kitchen and if you looked over to the right a rather large and gorgeous living room.

The two women who were still having a conversation at the kitchen island, both looked up moving to see who came threw the elevator doors.

"I picked the newbie, if one of you can show them around that'll be great I'm busy" Tony said quickly before wondering off into the large area, leaving you with the two women, which the dark red headed widow had chosen to also excuse herself, leaving y/n once more with Wanda Maximoff.

"Looks like you're stuck with me" the witch laughed while y/n face lost color, they didn't want wanda to think they didn't wanna be shown around by her, they thought Wanda was 'pretty cool'

Wanda prompt you to follow her through the large hallways of the tower, while all the doors looked the same y/n was sure they would find themself getting lost around here.

Wanda opened one of the many doors on the right side, moving off to the side allowing you to move inside the large suite.

"My room is right next door if you need anything and I mean anything feel free to come find me Дорогой, oh and I'm sure Tony will have your important belongings here shortly" wanda told them, before leaving y/n to settle in for a few moments.

While looking around y/n must've gotten distracted, like always losing track of time as next thing they know, their door was reviving a harsh knock, which followed by multiple agents bringing in some box's holding items clearly from y/n's now old crummy apartment, no words were exchanged as the group of agents left the box's and went on with their day.

Y/n began to take things out, placing them around the room as everything felt so fast, they were meant to just try and get a start, not become a part of this team of heroes, that's no all, they live with some of the coolest people know, like the girl who's room was only one door over...

Items now sat on selves, the bed was changed to their old bedding, it made the suite feel much more home like. Finally getting through all the box's of clothes, y/n was able to change into more comfortable clothing having no plans to leave the room, honestly they weren't to sure where to go if they did leave.

Y/n was sat on the very large bed, with their laptop pulled up trying to figure out the wifi password.

"It's 'Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist' the password" a witch said from the doorframe. Causing y/n to jump from sudden sound of her voice.

"Sorry I didn't mean to scare you" wanda apologized welcoming herself into their room, not like y/n really minded.

"Here let me see" wanda typed in the long narcissistic password password into y/n's laptop, causing it to go back into their Netflix showing the continue watching page which the witch didn't miss picking up on all the roma-coms they had been watching.

"You like sitcoms?" Wanda asked relating it back to herself

"Yeah they make life seem so much better" y/n explained as Wanda knew completely what they meant.

"You know, sitcoms are my favorite, I grew up with them" the witch recalled fondly of the past, before the bad came into her life.

"Actually I came here to invite you to team movie night, we have a movie and team bounding night every week, and as you are now apart of this teen we want you to join us?" Y/n agreed to come to the movie night. Standing up wearing only comfy clothes, which hugged their body so nicely causing Wanda to struggle as she was trying not to stare.

Wanda who was in a tang and grey sweat pants lead y/n back to the large living space they had saw earlier, yet this time multiple other avengers where sat on the multiple sofas in the area, Wanda sat down on a loveseat which was off to the side, yet still had a good view of the large television, using her arms to motion for y/n to come sit with her on the seat, as by this point wanda would be who they were most comfortable with, as they have shared moments and multiple conversations.

"My pick!" Peter had said, yet he'd been wanting to see a new horror movie, giving no one any heads up, just pulling up the movie and clicking play, to which y/n would soon find out, they were going to regret coming to 'team bounding'

Y/n tried to play it off like they were so strong, trying to no show they were completely terrified of the movie, while Wanda wasn't even trying to listen but y/n's thoughts were loud, as well as their body language, at any jump-scare y/n would flinch, the Scarlet witch didn't pay much mind leaning over to the other side of the shared loveseat pulling y/n into her side, providing some comfort, as well as embarrassing the young newbie, the black widow shot y/n a small smirk, soon moving to give Wanda an 'i told you so' kind of look.

The witch ignored the widow, focusing on calming y/n down, yet nothing seemed to work, she took a mental note that horror movies may not be aloud for a while at team movie night before quietly taking y/n's arm, gaining their attention before motioning for them to come with her, leaving the team to their movie, as they payed no mind to the two of them leaving.

"We could've stayed, the movie wasn't that bad" y/n said trying to act nonchalantly about it, knowing Wanda pulled them away due to their reaction to the film.

"No. Come let's go to my room" wanda left no room for argument, she was already protective over the new member, feeling a pull towards them. Well not like this attraction was new, not to Wanda at least, but it was just beginning for y/n.

Wanda opened up her rooms door, and it looked nothing like yours, much more settled in, the red accents inside the room reflected her personality much more than your bland room reflected yours, she went straight to the bed, motioning for you to join her on the other side, sitting crisscross on the bed, reaching for the remote before putting on one of her favorite sitcoms, which you both found much more enjoyable than the horror movie out in the living room.

"Sorry about movie night, I didn't mean to ruin the team bounding" y/n stated once more still feeling bad for pulling Wanda away from her team.

"Y/n it's okay, I'd much rather watch sitcoms and I enjoy watching them with you" She replied reaching to pull y/n into her side, wrapping her arms around the new team member enjoying the shenanigans of the show.

"Thank you" y/n mumbled out, slowly getting more comfortable with the women, which the acknowledgment made Wanda smile softly to herself, as she could feel y/n began to drift off.

The witch didn't move allowing y/n to rest after a very long day, it was like their life changed, and even thought the witch didn't know much about y/n she felt so attached to them.

Eventually wanda fell asleep to the show still playing and y/n still lying on her side, an arm was wrapped around them for the time being.

Wanda woke up around two in the morning, due to movement in the bed, after a moment of regaining full consciousness, she realized it was y/n who was thrashing around in the bed, clearly in distress.

"Y/n, y/n honey wake up" wanda tried softly shaking y/n trying to pull them out of their dream without causing them to panic to much, yet nothing seemed to be working, Wanda was trying not to panic herself, ended up using her powers seeing inside she was prepared to see the horror movie from that night, yet was met with much worse, Wanda was able to pull y/n from their nightmare, y/n jumped up with a jolt, clearly still in a panic.

"Y/n, y/n it's Wanda? You're at the tower. You're safe" the witch kept repeating, trying to ignore what she saw until you were calm.

"I-I'm sorry..."

"No, don't be y/n we all have bad dreams...would you like to talk about it?" Wanda kept her words in a hush tone, not wanting to be too loud at the late hour of the night, well more so early hour of the morning.

"I didn't mean to wake you up, I just get nightmares sometimes, and I know it's silly" y/n explain yet the other women just shook her head.

"I get nightmares, and so do many of the other avengers, it's not silly, it's just how your brain works when it's meant to be turned off" she explained to y/n trying to still comprehend what the dream was about.

"Y/n, i do have to ask though, do you remember what the dream was about? Because I couldn't wake you, not without my powers at least" the explanation would force y/n to recall what they saw only a few moments ago, flashbacks of their life, the truth about them, why they were so smart, why they seemed to be doing alright for themself even with such drastic changes in life.

"It was about my parents, well the people I lived with...see I was adopted at a young age as far as I'm aware, I don't know much about my past, I can't remember any of it, but i became the child of two scientists, I was their ginny pig, the test subject, I never went to a public school, the women homeschooled me, while the man watched how my brain was changing every hour of the day. It wasn't all bad, on my birthday they would always make me a cake and we would spend time like a family, but the next day it was back to the test, and all the labs, it was becoming to much, I was beginning to react poorly to their test, and one day I snapped I never learned how to fight but I did, I fought like hell to get away from that cabin up in the north, and it took a lot of time for me to get here...now here I am" y/n ranted out to Wanda, who was sat a little flabbergasted, while also she was livid, not at y/n but at the people who made their life so hard for so long...how could you do that to a kid.

"I'm sorry, please I can go that was a lot" y/n panicked now when the witch didn't give a reply, yet wanda was quick to hush them, pulling them into her arms letting them relax, and for once feel safe.

"Y/n as long as you're here, you'll be safe, This team, and me alone wouldn't let any one hurt you..ever." Wanda whispered into y/n's ear, her fingers ran through their hair, softly soothing them, prompting them back to sleep, still in the women's strong hold.

Waking up the next morning y/n was still passed out, sleeping soundly on the left side of the bed, Wanda got up to go get some coffee, making her way to the kitchen, she was met with the one and only russian red head. The black widow, with her signature smirk

"I'm pretty sure this is when I say...what is that saying? I told you so." Natasha poked fun at the witch, who clearly wanted more than just a friendship with the newbie, more than even romantics Wanda wanted y/n as hers, and hers only, she would protect y/n, and no harm would ever reach the newbie again....

"Wanda?" Y/n mumbled coming out of the witches bedroom, in the early hours of the morning

"Out in the kitchen" wanda called back, soon being met with a sleepy y/n, their hair messy, as they came over clinging to the witch, who by this point she couldn't even deny y/n to the other team members, they two of them became a thing rather quickly, the two of them had so much potential, getting out of this town, Wanda could make y/n a great spouse, they could have kids, the ideas bagan to flow in Wanda's mind, hoping she could fill y/n's head with the same thoughts.

that's not the end of this twisted love story thought? Is it?

#lgbtqia #marvel #marvel mcu #writing #fanfic #marvel edits #marvel fic #lizzie x reader #wanda maximoff #natasha romanov #wanda maximilf #mommy wanda #wanda maximoff x reader #a twisted love story #anyaeras #the scarlet witch #fluff #angst

[hijinxthinks]

Christopher Bang Chan who would love:

- your stage presence and the dichotomy between that and your offstage self. he would be in awe, backstage, watching your set while in his dressing room on the monitor hanging on the wall. “you killed it!” he would enthusiastically say once you finish your set and come back to your dressing room. he would be fully dressed for his set, which is coming up soon, on a different stage at the festival, but he would be waiting for you in your dressing room, and on the last night of your tour, he would present you with a bouquet of red and black roses tied with black and purple ribbons and be waiting with a really beautiful necklace that suits you, it might even be a black bat, wings extended, in a pretty case that he presents to you. “congrats on your first tour, baby, you did it! you’re a fucking rockstar!”

- your intelligence. one of his favorite subjects is space, and the way you both can go into discussions of hypothetical astronomical events for hours on end makes you one of his favorite people to talk to.

- it doesn’t end there, though, he loves that you are the world’s weirdest encyclopedia of random knowledge. he doesn’t know what to expect to come out of your mouth anymore. he’s sitting at the center island of the kitchen, typing away on his laptop while you brew a pot of coffee for yourself and while you’re waiting, you’d say “did you know a dolphin orgy is called a wuzzle?” and he’ll look up with his confused expression, “a wuzzle?” he’ll repeat, making sure he had heard your nonsense correctly. you sip your coffee, leaning back against the counter as you face him, “yeah, and rams prefer to be homosexual, a lot of animals are inherently homosexual actually-“ at that point he has to stop you, “wai-wai-wait, what? how do you know this?” you shrug, taking another sip as you sing out like a 90s informercial, “the more you know~” it makes him laugh, and speaking of which…

- chan loves your sense of humor. the air sign in him bows to the air sign in you. the dialogues you two share make the both of you fit for a reality series. somehow you land witty comebacks and animated expressions that have him giggling like an idiot. chan can’t take you anywhere, you have no filter. he thinks it’s hilarious but also could get you into trouble. he doesn’t like to admit the tiny adrenaline rush he gets from the chance of you being heard muttering “well fuck me i guess” when someone walks through a door you held open for them without saying ‘thank you’. and you could say it a dozen times and he still thinks it’s hilarious when you land a perfectly timed “alright then, good talk.” after being unceremoniously disconnected from a phone call.

- chan loves and admires your work ethic in the studio. he’s extremely impressed by how you take charge of your projects, taking and giving suggestions to the engineer, understanding rhythm, music theory and composition. when it comes to music, you know what you want and how to direct your team to get it. he’s not used to such a vast level of early career full freedom of artistic choice. you’re a relatively new artist, yet you’re the one calling the shots, making the decisions on how things sound. he loves sitting on the couch in the studio, on his laptop, creating himself in between getting caught up in how good something sounds and becoming distracted, a face of complimentary disgust at how fucking sick your last take sounded once the engineer punched the music in.

- its a given he loves the musician in you, but particularly on foggy, autumn sunday mornings, or late, cool, rainy october nights, when you can be heard playing intricate chords and humming along, or when you strum your guitar, even with the muted strings you didn’t mean to mute, he’s just in love with your feel for music. it’s something that can’t be taught, musicianship is in your bones and he can hear the effects of that as he lies in bed, scrolling on his phone. he’ll be reading the comments of a video one minute, and his ear will catch the pattern of your singing and playing the next, and he’ll find his head grooving and nodding to your rhythm as the backdrop for the little time he spends at home. everytime you pick up a new instrument, you take to it like a pro, and he’s proud to be matched with someone as creatively intuitive as you. you end up inspiring him to be great.

- chan loves how sentimental you are. he’s a romantic libra, after all, ruled by venus, the planet of love and beauty. you remember important moments and celebrate the anniversaries of them in special, unique ways that show how thoughtful you are. you’ll keep movie ticket stubs, or confetti shot out from cannons at a show. he’s naturally the same way, but it’s rare to find someone like that, and he’s found it in you. you’ll secretly prepare his favorite meal, play music by his favorite artist, and have a unique gift for him, even if it’s just to celebrate the anniversary of the debut of his group. no matter what the occasion, you put effort into it and he’s attracted to that.

- as a fellow air sign, chan loves that you’re vocal during sex. air signs are communicative and flirty, and thrive off stimulating verbal communication when done right during intimacy. he’s not used to his partner saying so many things, making his brain work to talk back even though he’s lost in the feeling of your pussy squeezing around him, wetting his thighs with each slap against your skin. that’s not enough, no, you have to talk him through it too, “yes, yes, im your good girl, right? right chan? i wanna be so good for you.” the way you whimper underneath him, it’s reassuring to his ego, and stimulating his carnal instinct to feel you coming around him, because if he’s being honest, that’s one of the best feelings in the world to him. “yeah, you are my—good girl, fuck,” he can barely hold back from how you tighten around him when he says it, “you’re always daddy’s good girl, yeah?” he knows you love to hear him talk, really sometimes it can be the silliest thing because he loves that you…

- are fascinated by the things that naturally make chan—well, chan. after being in such close proximity to him for so long, the novelty of his accent wears off to the average human, but every now and again he’ll say something that is just so…foreign that you’ll point it out, mock it, and giggle and find such joy and entertainment in just the pronunciation of a word or an unfamiliar figure of speech. “i dunno, i like the way the accent feels in my mouth when i try to do it. it feels like there’s something in the back of my throat,” you’ll say another word that sounds so vastly different in his dialect, like ‘traffic’, or ‘egg’, and you’ll butcher it so bad, and end up sounding like the australian equivalent of a redneck, and he’ll always laugh, rhetorically asking “what??” and you’ll spit it back out at him again, in an embarrassingly american way and it reminds him just how different you two are, but just how special he is, and always has been. “i have no idea, honest to god, you could read me the dictionary and i’d fall asleep,” you’d say, when he asks just what is it about his accent that you find so attractive. “-wet, i’d fall asleep wet, for sure, but i’d at least fall asleep. can you imagine? i mean think about it, you’re turning me on to the sound of the definition of ‘compass’” there you go with your blunt, transparent and honest humor again, bringing him to laughter at how ridiculous you can be sometimes.

but he loves it 🖤

#this was very self indulgent #which is why i posted it on my side blog #but I needed the comfort #stray kids #skz #bangchan imagines #bangchan #bangchan headcanons #Christopher bang #stray kids imagines #stray kids hc’s #stray kids head cannons #bangchan headcannons #stray kids x you #bangchan x you #bangchan smut #jinx hcs

[hellfireslut]

Eddie Munson Nsfw Alphabet

warnings : nsfw/mentions of kinks/mentions of toys/

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Eddie loves affirm you after sex. If you did something intense or tried something new for the first time he’s there to comfort you with kisses after.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Eddie loves your thighs. He squeezes them and loves to lay on them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Eddie likes to cum on your back. Sometimes he likes to cum on your face because he likes the way it mixes with your makeup.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Eddie is into pain. He likes to act tough and scary around others but has a total weakness for being dominated.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

When you and Eddie started dating he was a virgin. He had to build up his stamina and eventually got there.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Eddie loves when you ride him. He likes to be able to hold onto your thighs and hips as you bounce up and down on him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Eddie is a naturally goofy person but likes to keep it serious during your intimate moments. He likes it to be all about you

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

The carpet definitely matches the drapes. Eddie doesn’t tend to shave down there. He keeps his garden full.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Eddie is very romantic during your intimate times. He likes to set the mood before hand with candles and roses.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Before being with Eddie he jerked off constantly. At home, at school, at work. While dating him his hormones calmed down and he jerks off less.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

With a luscious hairdo like his, Eddie has a hair pulling kink. He likes candle wax play as well.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Eddie likes to keep things safe. It’s either at his trailer or your house.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing you happy or begging for him gets him turned on.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’s not too fond of water sports or anything to do with the subject.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Eddie enjoys blowjobs from you. He likes to lean his head back and let you work your magic. He’s a big fan of giving oral to you. He likes to watch you squirm as you’re overstimulated.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Eddie can do both. Most of the time he is fast and rough. But when he can tell you really need him he’ll take it slow and meaningful.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s not too into quickies. He likes sex to have a purpose besides just getting off.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Eddie likes to experiment sexually. He plays it safe when it comes to doing the deed anywhere that isn’t his trailer or your home.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Eddie can go until the sun rises. It’s all up to you when he stops.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Eddie likes to use toys on you. He likes to watch you in pure joy and bliss as you squirm around.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Eddie likes to tease you when he can tell you really want him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

When Eddie is being dominated he’s extremely verbal. He whimpers and whines. When he’s the one dominating he’s verbal but in a grunty and deep way.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Eddie loves to lick your body up and down. He loves the way you taste and the way your body shrivels when his tongue glides around your body.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Though I know you all like to imagine it large , Eddie has an average size dick. It’s how he uses it that matters.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive has increased since the start of you two being together. He’s like a dog when he can finally get to you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Eddie will be knocked out 10 minutes after.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #stranger things #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #fiction #headcanons #scenarios #fluff #writing #smut

[thearchercore]

I came across these 2 thoughts which really interested me on the blog@tsarinablogs and I found her responses very interesting. (I always like his answers which are very relevant and interesting)

I would also like to know your opinion on this subject because I really like your way of perceiving and analyzing. (if that doesn't bother you of course, it's not at all an obligation)

1)

after having an anon's thought, i realized something. (a personal impression) max is someone who is very easy to read, I have the impression that we know straight away what state of mind he is in, he is very open about his emotions, he is easy to read.

Charles, on the other hand, is very paradoxical. He has a very expressive face, you see everything on his face. But at the same time and despite this I find that he remains someone difficult to read. He is expressive but he still maintains a certain control over his emotions. I think sometimes it's hard to really say what he thinks. I don't know if I'm expressing my thoughts well, sorry 😂 I just find that Charles is much more complex than he seems. People like to call him nice, naive and handsome //

2)

It's fascinating how similar and different Charles and Max are at the same time. In terms of racing, they are identical (even in the way they drive there are similarities). They talk about running as something vital, a need, as if the only time they feel comfortable and at peace is in a car. I have no doubt that it is a passion for all drivers but for them it seems like it is different. It seems like they need things to go well. They compare their car to a member of their body. Their way of talking about racing is different and I have the impression that what binds them is that they are the only ones who understand each other. They find themselves in this way of thinking, in this obsession and this vital need; there is an agreement.

another similarity is their humor and their perception of life; I have the impression that they are similar in this respect.

Their difference mainly lies in the way they act and interact with others. Max is very direct and more awkward, he has less self-confidence and needs some approval (like when he makes jokes). He is a very affectionate and spontaneous person. Charles is more socially comfortable and has more confidence. he has more control over his emotions than Max but at the same time he is a very open person.

thank you for mentioning @tsarinablogs! we're friends, and not to sound like i lack any critical thinking whatsover, but we do have a lot of joint opinions

THAT BEING SAID, what i find most interesting about them is how max generally never pretends, he's extremely straightforward and unless RB pr holds him at gunpoint, he will say what he thinks. charles, on the other hand, knows how to use the public opinion to his advantage and knows how to manipulate the narrative extremely well.

when you put these things together, you end up with what max and charles have going on - max who never cares about pretending to be anything he's not being interested in charles and charles, who's really great at keeping his PR persona up, tends to lose some of his cool around max and just becomes more of a private version of himself, let's say. so it's definitely fun to watch them interact vs other people on the grid just in terms of their persona preference of how they present themselves to the world.

when it comes to racing, i think they are extremely similar in both their mindset, approach, and driving styles. someone recently dug out an instance when drivers on track were complaining about their back in the cars and only him and max didn't mind “I am not here to be comfortable, I am here to drive a fast car” so it definitely helps to find someone who has similar mindset in the industry you work in, no matter what sort of industry it is.

finally, you can just tell both max and charles are there to race and win. it's their hyperfixation basically, and so them talking about racing probably fires up those little insane neurons in their brains and they can't physically shut up. i think we've all been here (when you find joint interest and realise the other person shares the same opinions AND you can nerd out together).

#lestappen

[tossawary]

One of my other strongest hopes for future seasons of the live-action "One Piece" is (and I am aware that this is hugely subjective, feel free to disagree) that I kind of hope Chopper is actually a youngish and short actor in make-up (with CGI touchups? whatever the fishmen had going on) rather than a fully CGI creature.

I mean, I won't mind if Chopper is a CGI creature. I thought that the special effects in OPLA were overall pretty good. The News Coo was very cute. The Sea King was fun. But most of the time, the show was real people interacting with other real people, and I thought that this atmosphere was hugely beneficial to this adaptation. I think that they'll probably do a pretty good job if Chopper is a mostly CGI creature, it's definitely doable, but I also think having a much more expressive and reactive speaking character around constantly and casually is much more difficult (and expensive) than a silent, blank-faced bird present for a few minutes, and I would rather have more Chopper than less Chopper if redesigning him to be more humanoid would give us that. (He can be fully CGI during transformations, obviously.) I really like seeing these actors inhabit these characters! I've seen some really cool Chopper cosplays.

My other argument towards making Chopper more of a human in reindeer make-up is that, while I think adorable babyish Chopper is extremely cute and the humor of him being so small and cute most of the time (while being a very talented doctor and able to transform into more beastly forms) is funny, I would... also like to see Chopper taken more seriously as a teenager and as a character. I think fandom, and maybe the story itself, has a tendency to give Chopper less attention because he does seem to fit more of a funny mascot appearance. (I also saw a Chopper post-time-skip redesign that made him more a lanky teen, both more like a human and more like a reindeer, and I liked it a lot more than how he apparently became even shorter. And it made him being mistaken for a tanuki even funnier.) I don't think anything truly important about Chopper's character will be ruined if he's allowed to look a little older and be a little taller. He's fifteen years old!

If we end up with Canonical Babyish Chopper, identical to the manga, that'll be fine! But I will think it's a missed opportunity for the live-action show not to explore and present a different side of Chopper's character, to an audience who might take him more seriously as a hero and as a person if he's allowed to appear more like a humanoid reindeer and another teenager / young adult crew member, rather than looking like a gag character. Yes, ideally, we SHOULD all take Chopper seriously even if he looks like a gag character, but I think the reality is that a lot of people don't.

#tossawary one piece #tony tony chopper #opla