#like narratively this is a huge move on his part. He's not getting dragged there with a rope around his neck this time. He's choosing it

[greatstormcat]

Club 141 AU

Poly141 x f!reader

Part 1

Author’s Note: this is a BDSM fic and should be approached with caution. BDSM is, by its nature, potentially dangerous and should be treated with respect at all times. This is a work of fiction so some liberties have been taken for the narrative, but proper vetting and negotiations should always take place with any new partner. Consent is sexy as fuck, and you should always practice Risk Aware Consensual Kink (RACK). With that out of the way, enjoy the show and leave comments so my praise kink goes brrrr.

Taglist: @simpingforleoandnico @thewrittingaddict

Series Masterlist

TW: MDNI 18+, impact play, bondage, subspace, D/s dynamics, use of safe words, oral sex m!receiving, unprotected sex, group sex, overstimulation, poly 141, sub reader, you are responsible for yourself beyond this point.

You stare at your reflection after you finish getting ready, you already looked bored and fed up and you hadn’t even gone out yet. Your phone pings, a message from your boyfriend telling you he was outside waiting for you. It was obvious he wouldn’t actually come and ring the doorbell himself, it was raining and he wouldn’t want to get damp in the rain, but it was fine for you to put up with it of course. You huff, grabbing your bag and coat and heading out to his car.

He tells you he is taking you to a new club tonight, a special club. He just got a membership and he can’t wait to take you there. It’s called Club 141 and it’s a BDSM club. The club had been open a while, you’d heard people talking about it in hushed tones, talking about the depraved things that went on inside. It was a members only club, so how your boyfriend had gotten in was beyond you, but as he pulled up outside he grabbed a matte black card from his jacket pocket, the club's name embossed into the surface. It got you both past the serious looking bouncer outside who scanned the card as you entered.

You couldn’t believe you were in here, it seemed like a dream. You’d be interested in kinkier sex for what felt like forever but hadn’t had the courage to bring it up until recently. Unfortunately your boyfriend didn’t understand it as well as you, he took it as an excuse to rough you up, to go too far. When you’d suggested researching it together he scoffed and just made you watch violent porn instead.

Inside music pounds, red lights project up the dark walls and people mill about in a variety of outfits. You notice some people wearing leather or shiny metal collars around their necks with obvious pride, all looking relaxed while you feel tense, nervous. Your boyfriend pulls you along by the arm, dragging you through the crowd behind him as you look around taking in your surroundings.

The place is opulent, dark walls contrasting with rich red accents and black marble. It’s like something from a movie. Above you, on a mezzanine reserved for VIPs, a huge man leans on the railing holding a cigar, his mutton chops neatly trimmed on either side of his face, and he wears a black shirt that hangs open showing hair on a broad chest. His eyes lock with yours as you walk underneath the platform, he tilts his head as he watches you, and you catch sight of a taller blonde man joining him, a startlingly white skull mask over the top half of his face. You try to get a better look at them both but the painful grip on your arm pulls you away.

When you reach the bar, a sleek black piece of marble with an illuminated wall behind it, displaying the ornate bottles of high end booze, you see the two bartenders. They're two of the most gorgeous men you’ve ever seen, wearing sharp white shirts with sleeves rolled up their strong arms. They look at your boyfriend with open disdain as he orders drinks for you both, the one with a mohawk haircut gets to making the drinks while the other moves towards you. His dark eyes drink you in as he leans over the counter slightly.

“Wow, each woman he brings in here gets increasingly more beautiful,” he tells you, his voice deep and seductive, making you miss what he said to start with.

“Sorry, what was that?” You ask him, wide eyed.

“That guy,” he points at your boyfriend who is impatiently waiting for the other bartender to make the drinks. “He brings a different woman in each night, and you have to be the prettiest one yet.” He watched your face carefully, sympathetically as you take in what he just told you.

“I think you’re mistaken, that’s my boyfriend. He hasn’t been in here before,” you say, but even you hear the uncertainty in your voice. The bartender grabs a tablet from under the bar and taps something into it. He turns the device around, a photo of your boyfriend on the screen and list of dates, almost every night for the past two weeks. “Um, well, okay,” you stammer.

“Look, my name’s Kyle, just ask for me or Johnny if you have any trouble,” he says, nodding towards the other bartender who is watching you both, completely ignoring the babbling of your boyfriend who is trying to make him hurry up. With a mumbled thank you, you rejoin your boyfriend and take your drink to a nearby table, mulling over what Kyle just showed you.

You try to distract yourself by watching the people around you. As you watch people are moving in and out of a doorway at the back of the club, another bouncer checking with them as they do.

“What’s back there?” You ask, grasping at the distraction.

“That’s where the fun happens. There’s something amazing back there I want to show you. You’ll love it,” he grins and turns to look at you, grin fading when he sees your frown.

“You have been in here before. Are you seeing anyone else?” You ask him bluntly

“What’s with you?” He grumbles, avoiding your eyes.

“This isn’t your first time here, is it?” You continued, stomach turning sour as you realise he has been cheating on you. He shakes his head, expression angry and tries to grab your arm again but you pull away. Suddenly he lunges at you, temper snapping as it usually does when you stand up for yourself and you fall back off your seat as you scramble back.

“Is there a problem?” A gravelly voice demands and you look up to see the masked man from earlier standing over you looking directly at your boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. This guy is huge, even if you weren’t on the floor looking up at him he would tower over most people in the room. His well fitted black shirt highlights his build, and your ex balks at him, stuttering a pathetic excuse.

“I think you’re done for the night, mate. Time to leave,” the man tells him. “I’ll make sure the lady gets home safe.” There’s such authority in his tone that no room is left for question, and the weasel bolts.

The giant turns and look down at you, his expression hard to read behind the glossy white skull over his face. Your gut tightens as you look up at him, he’s gorgeous.

“Call me Ghost,” he rumbles, holding out a huge hand to help you up. “Come on, the Captain wants to see you.”

“Who?” You ask as he pulls you up off the floor. He smirks.

“The club owner, sweetheart,” he explains. He guides you up the stairs, his hand on the small of you back as you go. You’re soon in front of the bearded man you saw earlier, with Ghost at your back. Up close he is broad, muscular and smells amazing, cigar smoke and cologne.

“Are you okay?” The bearded man asks. “Looked like that prick was giving you some problems.”

“I’m fine, thanks to Ghost actually,” you reply, trying not to make it obvious as you look him up and down.

“Good,” he grunts tersely, and holds one huge hand out. “I’m Price,” he says by way of introduction.

“You’re the owner, yeah?” You say, shaking his hand, feeling the roughness and warmth of his skin. He huffs and nods.

“You’re not a member, I take it that piece of shit brought you with him tonight?”

“Yes, I’ve wanted to come here for ages,” you reply, feeling heat creeping up your chest and face.

“Really? Was he your Dom?”

“Not really, I haven’t actually ever met a Dom,” you answer sheepishly. The two men exchange a look over your shoulder.

“Come with us,” he says, and waves down to the two bartenders who start heading to the stairs, two other men taking their places. You follow Price through a door marked private into another room with the others. The door closes behind you, dulling the music and you look around. The room is the same deep rich colour scheme as the rest of the club with thick carpet under foot and several black leather couches and armchair. There is a coffee table with a large wooden case on it and one end of the room is dominated by a large frame with a padded X in it and an unusual looking padded bench.

Price sits himself in a large armchair, looking like a king sitting on his throne. The other three spread themselves out on the furniture leaving you to perch uncertainly on one end of one of the sofas. You realise you've just let yourself be shut in a room with four huge men you don’t know, and your nerves kick in. Johnny and Gaz eye you curiously as you try to settle yourself. Price lights his cigar and puffs out smoke before looking at you again.

“So the lad brought you to my club, and you don’t know the first thing about the Lifestyle do you? What are your safewords?” Price asks you leaning back in the chair, thighs speed wide.

“My what?” You ask, confused by the question. Simon leans forward as their collective faces turn cold, Johnny hisses between his teeth at your response.

“Your safewords,” Ghost repeats. “How do you get him to stop when you need him to?” As he speaks you feel a sinking feeling in your stomach, their expectant faces making it clear you’re missing some very basic knowledge.

“Jesus fucking Christ, who let that little prick into my club?” Price barks when you drop your eyes to the ground, unable to answer.

“He was vouched for, by the book Cap,” Gaz tells him with a shrug.

“Pull his membership, I want a word with whoever vouched for him,” he snarls, biting down on his cigar in frustration and getting up, pacing the lush carpet to contain his anger.

“Sounds like you’ve got an abuser, not a Dom,” Ghost explains with a gentleness at odds with his appearance. Brown eyes look at you kindly through the skull mask. “Pretty thing like you, so sweet and innocent shouldn’t be with someone like that.”

“No, you deserve much better,” Gaz adds, sliding across the leather to rest his arm around you, his long leg resting against yours as his warmth seeps into your skin. Price returns and raises an eyebrow looking at the other men.

“You want to show her, do you?” He grunts. “You know it’s her choice.”

They all look at you expectantly, Gaz’s fingers gently stroking your shoulder.

“Show me what exactly?” You ask carefully, feeling you are teetering on the edge of something monumental.

“What it’s really like,” Johnny answers, getting up and leaning on Ghost’s shoulder and grinning wickedly.

“Yes, I want to know,” you reply after a heartbeats hesitation.

“Okay then,” Price agrees. Johnny opens the wooden case on the table, revealing a variety of implements inside. There are leather cuffs, what you recognise and leather floggers and other metal implements you’ve not seen before. Your pulse races at the through of getting to experience them at the hands of these men.

“Gonna need you to strip, pretty one,” Ghost says, tilting his head to one side and smiling crookedly. His eyes narrow behind the mask, and heat builds in your stomach. You glance at the four of them, all focus on your next move and giving the impression of coiled springs waiting to be released.

Slowly you stand, and begin to remove your clothes. When you get down to your underwear you pause and glance at them.

“All of it, darlin’” Johnny prompts, his Scottish accent thick and dark.

Ghost takes the leather cuffs from the box and kneels down before you. As he fastens the leather cuffs around your wrists and ankles, you feel a strange sense of security settle over you. The four men watch you hungrily, with no shame or embarrassment about their lust for you, and it’s refreshing, almost empowering. They want you and they openly flaunt that, which is sexy as hell.

“Up on the cross now, facing it,” he instructs you and stands up himself. You stand against the cross, the soft leather cool against your skin but not unpleasant. Already you feel yourself becoming more aware of the sensations and sounds around you, your thoughts slowing down. The clinking of the metal on the cuffs as you move draws your attention to your movements and you avoid rushing, making you feel graceful.

Ghost moves your unresisting limbs into position, securing you to the cross at each end and tracing his fingers along your skin each time. He moves to stand on the other side of the cross, facing you. “Your words are green to continue, yellow to change up, red to stop okay?”

“Ready?” He asks you, and you nod. “Words.” He prompts you, demanding clear consent.

“I’m ready,” you answer, trying to put steel into your quavering words, and he smirks.

“Better,” he says, and nods to Johnny. The Scotsman lift a leather flogger from the case and approaches behind you, eyes trailing over you skin appreciatively and mapping out the meatiest parts of you, humming to himself as he selects his target.

The first touch of the flogger is gentle, soft, a caress of leather strands against your skin that makes you shiver all over. Your gasp echoes around the room, husky and soft, and you hear one of them sigh in response.

More blows land, one after the other, a new spot each time to spread the sensation, the tingling merging and coalescencing in your flesh until you're buzzing across your back and ass. You feel your eyelids close, the image of the masked man in front of you drifting in and out as you begin to float.

Harder strikes mix in soon, each one making your thighs clench, causing your pussy to spasm and a new edge builds onto your dreamy state.

Your husky moans begin to sound hungry, more demanding as the flogger bites into you and your inner walls pulse in time with the hypnotic rhythm.

“That’s it, now you’re starting to feel it,” Ghost whispers to you. Arousal drips down your thighs, you wonder if they can see it, a flush of humiliation rushes through you and bleeds into the growing pool of arousal in your stomach, making it swell further. It’s a dam that won't hold out much longer.

Johnny rubs a hand over your rump, the skin hot and sensitive and you whimper at the contact, knees trembling slightly. His fingertips graze your wetness and you head tips back in a desperate whine, eyes rolling back in your head.

“She’s fuckin’ drenched,” he tells the others, awe dripping from his words. He lets his fingers run through the spreading mess between your thighs, coating your skin and making it glisten for them all to see it. The humiliation only makes your cunt tighten more in need.

“Ghost,” you call softly, and he leans closer to you.

“What do you need?” Ghost asks, stroking the side of your face, eyes focused on yours intently.

“Please….” You whisper, struggling to form the words around your shame and arousal. “Please… fuck me.”

You hear the other men move closer, suddenly aware of the heat of them standing close to you and Price’s voice speaks into your ear.

“Say that again,” he says, his beard tickling your ear.

“Fuck me… please,” you beg, brain filled with fog and just the pulsing need between your legs making any sense right now.

“Not yet,” he chuckles, the sound echoed by other voices and muttered promises to ruin you soon enough. Johnny picks up a second flogger in his other hand and glances at Ghost, who looks at your face.

“Give me a colour,” he says, giving you the chance to use the safe word.

“Green,” you mumble, and he nods to Johnny.

“Here it comes, bonnie,” he says and begins to swing the two floggers in tandem, circling his wrists. Leather tails strike against your skin in an almost constant flurry, each strike blurring into the next and giving you no time to recover.

You feel your thighs tremble with the onslaught of pleasure and pain, the line too blurred to tell them apart now. Your legs give out and you dangle from the wrist restraints, but Johnny doesn’t stop. The two floggers move ceaselessly in his hands as he circles his wrists sending shock after shock against your skin. The unending sensation leaves you shaking, overstimulated and gasping for breath. All while your pussy pulses and drips.

“Yellow,” you whimper and Ghost raises his hand, everything stops. Price surges forward, his arms around your waist and holding you up against his chest.

“Good girl,” Price growls into your ear, his hand cupping your face to tilt your head back so he can see the glazed look on your face. “Good fuckin’ girl, using your safewords.” What had begun as shame at saying the word sudden blossomed into warmth and arousal, your face suddenly hot as he tells you how proud he is of you. You realise Ghost it unbuckling your limbs and feeling floods into your arms as they are lowered.

“Ya took that like a champ,” Johnny breathes, voice rough with arousal. His shirt is gone, muscles glistening and bulging with the workout he just had.

Price gathers you in his lap on the sofa, strong thighs holding you easily as he presses you against his chest.

“Well done, you did so well there. Now you get your reward. We’re gonna make you cum, lots,” he chuckles darkly. “Where do you want us to finish, inside or outside?” His question makes you blink, trying to focus, and the idea of them filling you to the brim makes your thighs clench.

“Inside,” you answer breathlessly and he nods, pressing a chaste kiss to your sweat soaked hair. He motions Gaz and Johnny over.

“Help her on the bench,” he instructs them, and they gently haul you to your feet and move you to the padded bench. It has one central section and two lower platforms on either side. You lay yourself on the middle, face down while Kyle and Johnny fasten the restraints to the rests on either side, leaving your pussy and ass exposed.

“Kyle, ease her in for us,” Price says, and watches from the sofa as the younger man palms himself through his slacks before undoing his zip.

Kyle positions himself behind you and rubs the head of his cock through your folds, hot and swollen with need, and nudges at your entrance. You buck your hips, desperate to feel something in your aching hole but he controls the pace, leaving you to sob out a broken plea.

“Easy now, love,” he croons softly as you shake against the bench and your restraints. His warm palms wrap around your hips, and with agonising care he pushes into your cunt. You forget to breath, mouth open soundlessly as he stretches your walls around his length.

“Fuck… relax,” he whispers softly. “That’s it, you’re doing so well.” He begins to thrust slowly, every ridge and vein of his dick felt as your cunt takes him in. You groan loudly, he feels so good, so deep.

Your cheek presses against the soft leather until Price tilts your chin up to look at him. He has his cock in his hand, stroking it languidly in front of you, and your mouth salivates.

“Open,” he ordered, and you open your mouth eagerly, tongue out and flat ready to taste his cock. You look up at him and see the hungry look in his face, the crook of his lips. “Good girl. Look at you, so ready and bloody gorgeous.” He rests the fat tip of his erection on your tongue, hot and leaking pre-cum, making you stretch your neck to get it into your mouth. You suck him greedily, eager to please and earn more honeyed words.

A rythym forms quickly, price fucking your mouth while Kyle slams into your pussy, the dual sensations leaving you a boneless mess between them. You moan round Price’s length, throat relaxing and opening to let him go deeper each moment.

You can’t concentrate on either one of them as they both pick up the pace, eyes watering, until you feel Price’s hips stutter.

“That’s it, take it all,” he repeats. Price spills himself down your throat, grunting with his final few thrusts and you swallow every drop. He slips himself from your mouth, and staggers back slightly, dropping his bulk into an armchair and looking at you with flushed cheeks and hooded eyes.

Kyle squeezes you hips tighter, angling himself to hit that seeet spot inside you and you feel everything building into a crescendo. The best orgasm of your life hits you, and you keen loudly, back arched as your body burns with heavenly fire.

You feel Kyle push deep inside you as he cums, painting your inner walls white.

“Go on, Johnny,” Price says, and the Scot moves quickly into position as Kyle pulls out, trousers dropped in a flash and erection free and dripping.

Ghost presses a wand vibrator to your clit, securing to the bench and your world becomes an electric buzz of pleasure, making you yell out. “That’s it,” Johnny says, “fuckin’ sing for us.” He pounds into your aching and tired body, the added stimulation building another coiled spring of release with the low vibration.

He snaps his hips against you at a blinding pace, fucking you like his is desperate to cum, to fill you up no matter what. Your clit throbs against the wand adding to every thrust of his cock.

Johnny reaches forward, wrapping your hair around his fist and pulling, arching your back and making your muscles tighten around him. You’re caught between the restraints holding you down and the man pulling you backwards, the warring sensations creating a sense of helplessness and vulnerability that you throw yourself into. These men can do whatever they want to you right now, and you can only say one word to stop them. A switch flicks in your brain, and you give in to it all then and there. You let go of all doubts, fears and worries and just feel the sensation of being ruthlessly fucked.

Your orgasm hits quickly, even more intense than the first and you cry out.

“Aye that’s fuckin’ it bonnie!” Johnny growls, fucking you through the waves of pleasure, he pounds into you frantically until your clenching heat pushes him over the edge and milks his orgasm dry.

While you gasp and shake, Price moves forward and adjusts the control on the wand ramping it higher and higher, making you yelp and whine with overstimulation.

“Simon’s a big lad, but you’re nicely loosened up now so you can take him,” he whispers into your ear, placing a kiss on your sweat and tear streaked cheek. Your mind is scrambled as you pant and shudder. “Colour?” He asks, and you manage to say green, spittle accompanying the syllable.

A pair of heavy hands grip your waist and a thick, so very thick, cock presses against your aching cunt. The intense vibrations reach all the way into your pussy, making the walls spasm already. He doesn’t tease, Ghost just pushes inside, his tip bullying into you and all the way to your cervix in one hard thrust.

“So tight,” he groans and grips one of your shoulders to give himself leverage. The wand makes his cock twitch, and you feel like you're cumming already as he begins to move his hips, but it’s only the beginning. You force your eyes open half way and see the three other men, all watching as Ghost splits you open with his cock, their eyes glued to where he has you impaled.

Your hips buck with the sensation, gummy walls clenching around him as you ride the pleasure, unable to control or fight it now. Everything is now focused on sensation, your thoughts stop completely and you just let yourself feel the fullness between your legs, the vibration from the wand and the warmth of the leather slicked with sweat.

“I can’t… I can’t…” you chant and whimper, exhausted.

Someone stands besides you, it’s hard to tell who as your mind unravels, until a sharp sensation runs down your spine. You tense in response, causing Ghost to grunt as you spasm around him.

“It’s a pinwheel, darlin’,” Gaz’s voice says into your ear. The sharp sensation returns, feeling like a knife sliding over your skin and you jerk.

“Fuck sake, Gaz,” Ghost pants as you tighten around his girth cock in response.

“She needs a little help, Si,” Gaz chuckles. “Come on, one more.” He runs the spiked wheel across the meat of your ass, the shot of pain mixing with everything else and you orgasm a third time, vision and hearing going dark for a moment with the intensity.

With a guttural shout Ghost pumps into you and adds his load to the mess dripping from you already. For a moment there’s no sounds other than the dull thumping of music from the club below, and your harsh breathing.

“That will do,” Price says firmly. In an deep haze you’re manhandled off the bench, wrapped in soft black towels and bundled onto one of the sofas. Someone presses a straw to your lips and you sip an ice cold drink.

“You did so well, sweetheart,” Price’s voice rumbles in your ear as you float in disembodied freedom behind your eyes. “Just rest for now, and we’ll clean you up and get you home when you are ready. Tomorrow one of us will come and keep an eye on you too.”

“I don’t think that’ll be the last time either,” Gaz chuckles.

#club141!au #price x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #ghost x reader #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #John price #gaz mw2 #gaz cod #price smut #cod smut #cod 141 #soap smut #ghost smut #kyle gaz smut #cod x reader smut #tf141 x reader #141 x reader #captain price x female reader #simon riley x female reader #ghost x female reader #john price x female reader #simon riley x fem!reader #poly 141 #poly 141 x reader

[wutheringskies]

Re-reading MDZS; CH 1 - 11

rereading mdzs out loud with my bestie and we're only doing 2 chapters a day, and discussing everything and here are things I never noticed:

1. from the start, the narrative exposes us to how Wei Wuxian is when he's upset: he's unfocused, walking off the wrong way, disliking his reflection, organizing his thoughts, crying but not saying he cried.

2. despite being miserable, when lil apple tries to cheer him up, he thinks "the poor donkey even went out of its way to drag him" and decides to be get up and move on. it's not an in-built setting - it's not a "being born chronically optimistic" but rather a conscious choice.

3. frankly i never noticed just how sombre his tone is in the first couple of chapters. it's quirky and sarcastic but sombre all the same.

4. also, this guy is literally a Lan. like I'm sorry, he probably has a degree in the Lan Sect. he keeps explaining everything about them.

5. Sizhui already made such a huge impression on him that the first thing he thinks of when he sees Jin Ling is that he's of Sizhui's age.

6. Wei Wuxian IS traumatized about Jiang Cheng. His reaction is simply to run off into the distance. He DOES NOT like being around Jiang Cheng, and his opinion about him is not good, as he keeps adding comments about Jiang Cheng's arrogance, his anger, and comparing him to Lan Wangji (knowing JC hates being compared, and I personally think this was something he never allowed himself to do.)

7. Jin Ling was such a jerk under Jiang Cheng and Jin Guangyao's tutelage. Like, sincerely.

8. Lan Wangji does not even acknowledge Jiang Cheng.

9. Also, a comment that my friend and I made: MDZS is a book about Lan Wangji, with Wei Wuxian casually throwing some trauma on the pages in between. Like, goodness, the narration from Wei Wuxian's point of view rarely describes a lot. But come to the point of Lan Wangji and this guy won't shut up. His clothes, his face, his voice, his sword, their meaning, the clan rules, what they stand for - Wei Wuxian tells us more about Lan Wangji and the Lan Clan than about his own life.

10. Wei Wuxian was so in love with Lan Wangji. Since he saw the Lan Clan this guy was on his head. THE FACT WEI WUXIAN CAN RECOGNIZE LAN WANGJI JUST BY 2 STRUMS OF HIS ZITHER after 13 years of being dead!!!

11. When Lan Wangji held his hand, he was breathing hard and his notes on the flute kept cracking

12. Wei Wuxian is so good at meditating btw

13. Wei Wuxian describing Lan Wangji's voice as "deep and magnetic" and "stirring the heart" like bro trust me Jiang Cheng's not feeling any tugs upon his heart, and Jingyi is most probably just scared.

14. Wei Wuxian is such a flirt with women - his best flirting tactic is "give them space" 😂😂

15. Wei Wuxian did not ask, expect or even comment upon the absence of gratitude from the villager clan after saving them and instead even thanked them for providing him with information.

16. Wei Wuxian is so keen on people's behavior. Noticing the orb of souls that could've been saved if people were more focused on their duty than catching a prey like Wen Ning, understanding people's discomfort etc.

17. He's such a good teacher, earning the respect of Lan students just like that, asking good questions, not even complying with his own worship, and appraising them when they get things right and also playfully scaring them with Hanguang-jun's punishment (what a husband)

18. Wei Wuxian has great self esteem but poor self worth, but he's working on the second part.

@zenenini

#rereading MDZS #MDZS with fea and zene #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #my thoughts #lan wangji #wei wuxian #canon jiang cheng

[writingcold]

Hi.  Welcome to the opening chapter of CD&FE.  My plan is to post Wednesdays.  This is a complete story, so I will be faithful to this posting day.  

Pairing: Jake X Female Reader 

Summary: This is an AU that starts with the release of GVF’s first EP, Black Smoke Rising, and follows along life paths over the course of twenty years.  Part One: Y/n is on the verge of a huge change - and on the cusp of a big night of celebration.  The friends head out for the evening, starting with catching a band at a pub, to which the guitarist catches your attention.  

Content warnings: Language, smoking, drinking, sexual situations, oral (m & f rec), anal play, protected sexual encounter.

Word Count: approx. 13K (probably the longest of the parts, promise, maybe)

A tremendously huge thank you to @edgingthedarkness and @takenbythemaddness for all of your help with this.  You’ve both helped me to at least make it not a total shit show.  This is my first full length reader insert, first person narrative, so please be kind and forgive any and all errors.

Celebratory Drinks and Fleeting Embraces, Part 1

     I woke up feeling like I was roasting under the sun, only to find that I was lying in a furnace otherwise known as Patrick.  He was curled around my body, his sour breath in my hair.  My lip twisted as an ‘ew’ passed my lips.  I slid from the bed of my oldest, dearest friend feeling my skin crawl with sibling residue grossness.  I’d known him since we were in second grade.  Patty was always the pretty one in our relationship, but I never could see beyond the awkward childhood and weird puberty phases that we shared, not to mention all the heartbreaks, highs, drunks, and learning that we survived together.  We had tried to kiss way back in fifth grade - just to get that over with, but ew.  No.  

      “Oh, come on,”  his deep voice was still heavy with sleep, “I was enjoying that thick ass of yours, Y/n.  Come on back and snuggle for a while.”

      “Fuck you,”  I grumbled as he laughed.  “You promised me a record if I put up with your little dinner party last night.  Why are you trying so hard to impress those pretentious idiots?  They are not your tribe, Patty.”

      I didn’t bother with modesty.  The man was the first one to see me naked, and he looked at me like I was sheathed in 12” armor plating that was slathered with poison, set on fire with a NO GO ZONE etched across it.  He was wrapped in goo and toxic sludge that kept me at bay.  And that's how we liked it.  I dug through my suitcase to drag out a cropped tee and cutoff shorts.

      “I know,”  he howled into his pillow.  “I hate it.  I do.  But I’ve got to start making headway with this stupid job so I can get to the next step.”

      I rolled my eyes as I started dressing.  He slid his tall, rail thin body out of the sheets to reveal he was clad only in his boxer briefs.  I frowned.  “God damn it, you could’ve at least worn shorts when sleeping with me.  I do not need to feel that beast under the hood.”

      “Just because your last three guys didn’t have horse cocks, doesn’t mean you have to discriminate against mine, doll,”  he teased as he started to fish out clothes for himself.

     I rushed around him for the bathroom, bag in hand.  Damn if I was going to have to wait for his ass to get through his thirty minute wake up routine in the only bathroom of the apartment.  I heard his protest, but I knew that I’d be through in less than 15 minutes if left alone.

      I emerged ready to his raised eyebrow and sideways grin.  I pulled him down and kissed his cheek with a platonic whisper of love against his face before ducking into the kitchen.  Visits to Ann Arbor were getting harder to make.  I moved to Lansing right after graduating.  Pat had remained behind, working on his master’s degree while toiling away in the university system as a TA.  I finished my graduate work while killing myself on sixty hour work weeks and had earned a job in St. Paul that was to start in a week.  Patty was the first one I called when I got the news.  Not my family.  Not other friends. It had to be Patrick because he had been the only one that could understand that I just needed someone to tell me I wasn’t nuts for trying this route in life.  Everyone else either didn’t understand what I wanted to accomplish, or they simply said I would fail.  Fuckers.

     A tour through the kitchen revealed that he had purchased real food for my stay.  With a chirp of happiness, I settled into a bright sounding playlist before making us a feast while he showered.  By the time he was out, dried and all sorts of gorgeous, I had quite the meal prepared.  He pecked me on the mouth and yanked me in a tight hug.

      “Mornin’, punkin,”  he cooed as I started to push him away.

      We laughed over food.  He did the dishes and we strolled out the door.  

      “Did you call everyone?”  I asked as we walked from his apartment to the main drag of town.  

      “The only one not able to come is Aaron.  Bitch couldn’t get out of work,”  he answered, stopping to look into the window of a thrift boutique.  “That skirt would make your legs look amazing.  Y/n, my treat.  Let me get you an outfit for tonight.”

      “I’d rather have the record,”  I grimaced and whined.

      He screwed his mouth to the side with a diminutive grumble as I yanked him towards the music store.  It was already early afternoon, and the place seemed swamped with people.  I was never really one for big, chaotic crowds.  The sight brought me up short for a moment, until Patrick steered me to the side door.  I slipped inside, finding the crowd gathered more outside the building and a few at the front of the store, around the cashier.  It would be okay - I could handle it.  

      Pat, of course, was totally the opposite of me.  He glibly ran at any and all kinds of action, and this being no different, I lost sight of him almost immediately.  I turned my attention to the bins and displays, allowing myself to relax despite the edge of activity that I was so desperately trying to ignore.  Stoned Jesus was oozing through the air as I moved down towards the more vintage stuff, my eyes landing on a familiar cover.  I reached for it just as sharp, overly feminine laughter struck my ears in the worst way.

     “No, seriously,”  a coarse velvet voice invaded my space while flirting with the girls.  “You’ll be there right?  Tonight?  Come on. Come to our show…”

      I looked up just in time to see two long haired men, one a few inches taller than the other, guiding two very blushed out girls that are probably just wrapping up their freshman year.  The four were giggling and flirty and just way too loud.  I tried to turn my attention back to the album I had between my fingers: Deep Purple’s debut album. One of the girls literally squealed as the two men played along with them - not in a weird way, but just that frat boy manner that demanded their attention.  I watched as they walked with the girls to the door with flyers in their hands and huge smiles and promises of being out that night.  The taller one actually did the little toodles wave as the other retreated quickly.  I caught how he rolled his eyes as if disgusted with his own act.  Those chocolate brown eyes landed on me and he immediately straightened up as if he was caught being out of character.

      I looked back at the crowd in search of Patrick, but couldn’t find him anywhere.  For a moment, my insides flared with panic.  He was still there.  He was amongst the twenty or so people that were packed into the front of the shop.  I knew it, I just couldn’t tell the bubble of anxiousness that had attacked my stomach to back the fuck off.  I took a breath before returning my gaze to the record in my hands.

     “That is a fantastic album,”  a smooth voice, with just a hint of rasp and Michigan sass filled my ears.

      I turned to discover those lush, chocolate eyes were on me and he was standing at an arm's length away.  I nodded and gave him a small grin. “Yeah. I have this at home, just not this edition,”  I said before I set it back in the bin and turned away.

      ELO’s “Evil Woman” started to leak from the speakers.  I sighed upon hearing it - that over the top intro hit something just right, every time.  I didn't expect the pretty eyed man to stick around, but when I reached for another cover, he watched for what I was reaching for.

      “If you have another edition of that one,”  he started with a knowing look, “that means that you have a Gatefold.  The one from Germany, U.K…?”

      I grinned wider as I really looked into his face.  He was pretty.  Between a subtle cleft to his chin and a set of full lips, his expression was warm and welcoming.  There seemed to be a familiarity between him and the taller man, but he seemed to have a more mature quality to him that drew me in almost immediately.  

     “South Africa,”  I answered, watching as his eyes glitter with respect.

     “Nice,”  he said, his voice soft and almost whispered.

     I set the unseen album back in the bin, knowing it was shitty and not worth my time.  I moved down the next row with him tailing behind.  I saw him take interest in a blues album as I spotted another possibility - a Neil Young that had gotten damaged in my last move.  I feel him, though he remains at a distance.  He’s not much taller than myself, but perhaps it’s his personality, or just his presence, that makes him seem much bigger than he actually is.  His hair is almost fluffy as it rests just below his shoulders.  The tip of his nose was sharp and begging to be booped in the best way.  His mouth was sinful and I know I stared at it way too long.

     I tore my eyes away just as he looked up.  I was sure he'd caught me looking, again.   I couldn’t seem to help it.  He was totally magnetic.  His lips stretched into a smile - an honest smile, not like the production bull shit he had been feeding those college girls.  I held my album up just to see his reaction, and was rewarded with a few hummed notes of a deep cut that I knew well.

      “I guess I should ask about those flyers you’re tossing around,”  I said, putting back the Young and turning towards him fully.

      “We just released an EP,”  he said, his attention on another album that was closer to my spot.  He reached close to me, but then seemed to think the better of it.  “We’re playing tonight at Paul’s Pub.  You should come.  I think you may like it.”

      I pursed my lips with thought.  We were no strangers to Paul’s.  The bar was a staple in our group from the time we were all starting out in school.  I nodded, and looked back in search of Patrick once more.  I saw him emerge from the crowd, flier in hand and a look of wickedness in his eyes.  I turned my attention back to him, taking note that he was fingering an Otis Redding album.  

      His attention was snapped to the front of the shop and I saw his shoulders slump a bit as he began to shift back into his work.  “We’re third on the rotation.  Will you be there - about 9:00?”

     I shrugged as he started to move away.  “We’ll have to see.”

     I watched as his tight, dark wash skinny jeans walked away.  I finally let out the breath that I had been holding just as Pat stepped close to me.  

     “He gives big dick vibes, doesn’t he?”  he remarked as I leaned into him.

     “God, you’re such an ass sometimes,”  I scoffed just as I caught the man’s eye as he turned to look back at me over his shoulder.

      “But I’m right,”  Patty said quietly.  “I guess we’ll be starting out at Paul’s tonight.”

      I flashed him my biggest, gooeyest doe eyes possible.  “Please??”

     “Only if I can buy that outfit for you,”  he replied, eyes narrowed down to slits.  “No t-shirt and shitty jeans.  You’re going out in proper attire for a proper fucking celebration!”

      He talked me into the whole shebang.  I marched into Paul’s on Patrick’s arm dressed in the skirt that fell just below the knee with a slit that reached all the way up to my hip bone.  A loose, sleeveless poet shirt with a plunge neck with a shit ton of ruffles that billowed against my breasts made me feel more than whorish in a very pretty girl way.  I had let my hair spill down my back, but pulled up the sides with a jeweled tie.  I looked hot, and I knew it.  I could feel it.  But the moment that we reached the friends, I knew I was by far not the best looking in the room - that was reserved for Jordan with her raven black hair and crystal blue eyes and stupid perfect skin.  I wasn’t even second in our group - second was Sidney with her perfect ash blonde locks that curled at the ends and her doe eyes that made anyone stop and stare.  Bitches.  But I loved them and knew most of it was a ruse because they had intelligence on their side - they just used their looks for good shit.

      It had been months since I had seen the group.  We took our time catching up as the crowd in Paul’s grew.  The pub was old-school cool with its weathered wood and dark lighting, dark atmosphere, and dark decor.  It was the largest of the bars that we would visit on the night, sporting a full stage and enough room to cram in close to two hundred and fifty patrons in the main space, while the patio could hold another hundred souls easily.  

      I noticed that the bar was getting crowded while the stage was being switched over.  I glanced at my phone, but Patty grabbed my wrist in his grip with a hard glare.

      “Better not be working,”  he growled as took my phone away.  

      “Why are we even starting here anyway?”  Joey whined as he was handing out glasses of beer.  “We always start at Benny’s.”

      “Oh,”  Patrick chuckled.  “There’s a guy Y/n wants to fuck in the next band.”

      Suddenly, I had eight sets of eyeballs on me.  I shrugged.  “What?”

      Everyone looked back at Pat and his wicked assed grin that he was beaming at me.  “Come on, punkin.  Just admit that you let me dress you all up because you’re looking to get-”

      “HEY!”  Sidney shoved him in the chest before my dearest friend on the planet could finish.  

      The group laughed and I just sipped at my lovely Tito’s + cranberry like I was the most virginal bitch on the planet.  I watched as the tall one from earlier and another were setting up the drum kit – a white kit with a Greta Van Fleet emblazoned on the kick face.  I caught Pat talking to the rest about meeting the dark haired one and said he was really quite cool.  I turned my attention away from the stage and instead ventured into actual conversation with the friends.  We were, after all, celebrating my accomplishment.  I was going to be a graphic editor for an actual fucking company that was willing to bank on my skills, and pay me quite well.  I was the first of the group to reach their goal.  I was also the only one to actually be done with graduate school and had been working already for nearly 18 months in the real world.  Of course, Sidney wasn’t having it, knowing right well that I was avoiding what Patty had started.

      “Who’s the guy?  What the hell does he play?  Name?”  she grilled across her bottle of beer.

      “Pretty.  Don’t know what he does in the band.  Have no name.”  I summed it up in three tiny sentences and a smile.

      She looked at me like I had two heads until her eyes moved to the stage and latched onto the tall, lanky one.  “Well, if he’s indicative of those two…”

      I grinned and turned my attention back to the stage.  He was the damn guitarist.  He was plugging into the amp and storming his fingers across the frets.  My eyes were instantly locked on him as he nodded to his bandmates as they all started to warm up.  A fourth prowled between them all, mic in hand shouting a hearty “Good evening!” like it was a damn arena.  I glanced at Pat and he just watched me with a grin and knowing nod.  I whispered a fuck as I looked back at them.  He was dressed all in black - black boots, black, skin tight jeans, black button up that was cropped at his tummy and buttoned only by one button.  His chest was bare save a grouping of necklaces that bounced gently against the tanned skin.  He was seductive to look at.  I sipped at my drink as they slid into a song that made everyone stop what they were doing to take notice of the upstarts on stage.  They had a swagger that made me smile wide.  Fucker was right - I did like it by the end of the first song.

       “Fucking Zeppelin wannabes,”  Joe jabbed with a snarl.

       I rolled my eyes.  Figures.  I knew from the gossip Patrick had told me, Joe was in the middle of a break up with a real twat.  I could extend him some leeway, but only so far.  Pat told him that the next round was on him, since the rest of the crew decided they liked the band.  I was spellbound as they tore through their set.  The whole pub was bouncing and just absorbing everything the band fed them.  The band had something that was endearing, but was rooted in a raw talent that was very clear.  

       I felt the heat of the pub swell around me and the energy that was fostered by them was electric.  They were fun.  They were certainly sexy.  The singer belted across the crowd effortlessly, hitting notes that sent shivers down the spine and elevated the soul a few notches.  There was a guitar solo in every damn song, but he was masterful in how he baited the crowd and kept them with him as he sped through an effortless performance.  The bassist was flawless as he strutted around like on a damn cloud.  Mr. Shoulders at the kit would’ve grabbed my attention, but he oozed - for lack of a better way of saying it - big dick confidence, and it had me by the pussy.

      I barely registered that Joe had taken my empty glass and replaced it with a new one.  He scoffed but Patty just told him to fuck off.  I was enraptured.  It was like he was reaching through my body and taking everything from every cell in me, but filling it with something that just evoked absolute joy, tinged with a heavy dose of heathen thoughts that needed to be quelled.  My core was quivering with need while my brain felt like it was on absolute fire with him.  

      “What the actual fuck was that?”  Sidney remarked as the crowd cheered for more when their set was finished.  “Just…”

      I realized that most of the group was just as blown over as I was.  I took a slow swallow of my drink, closing my ringing and pulsing ears as the friends started to debate our crawl for the night.  I didn't care much - just as long as we had our time together.  I was only here through tomorrow night before I had to head for St. Paul.  I knew in the back of my brain, most of these people I would not see again.  I needed to make it count.

      Twenty minutes of bickering later, I grabbed Patrick by the collar and shouted over the din of people that I needed water and not to leave without me.  He kissed my cheek with a promise to stay until I was back.  Yeah.  I totally believed that one, but I snaked my way through the crowd to the bar.  It was insane that the energy of the show still flowed through the space, leaving the closing act to really bust balls to top their act.  I stood patiently, one hand waiting on the bartop in order to keep my spot amongst those that had far less patience than me.  

      “Beers for the band!”  one of the bartenders called out with a pointed finger a few spots down from me.

      “Thanks man!”  a familiar rasp struck my ear.

      I turned to look over my shoulder to see him; hair plastered to his throat and damp with sweat, still in his show outfit, but his shirt is totally open.  I can feel my chin dip as my eyes widen upon him.  He wiped a towel across his brow before shoving it into his back pocket.  The word ‘sexy’ was not strong enough to describe what he gave off at that moment.  I am not ashamed that I had to wipe at my lip to keep the drool at bay.  His sparkle filled eyes turned in my direction and paused for a moment until it changed to recognition that caught me by surprise.

       “Deep Purple!”  he called, his mouth parting in a smile that knotted my guts painfully.  “Is that you?!”

       I laughed as he had to go around like twenty people to move a few steps to meet me at my side.  His eyes raked across my body, taking me in.  I’m sure it was a far cry from the poorly cut off shorts and shitty top from earlier.  

      “It’s me,”  I cooed as he reached my side.

      For a moment, I lost myself in his gaze.  I was instantly overwhelmed by his appeal.  The spell was broken as the bartender set an icy bottle of water at my fingers along with change.  He let out a soft laugh that almost seemed nervous.

      “Did you catch the show?”

      “I did.  You were right - I liked it.”

      He flashed a cocky smile as his eyes dipped to my outfit once more.  “Celebrating?”

      I nodded as I took a drink of water.

     “Anything in particular?”

     I can’t help the buzz of energy that hits me as I smile huge and trilled, “ME!  We’re celebrating ME tonight.”

     “Oh my,”  he said, his tone dropping into a panty incinerating level.  “Occasion?”  

     “New job, new life, new city, new everything,”  I answered with a happy nod.

     “Amazing…”

     Patrick’s notification blared and my cheeks pink a bit as I fumbled for my phone.  I uttered a sharp ‘Fuck’ as I see they’re at the door and needed to get my ass out of there or be left behind.  “I gotta go,”  I said, disappointment in my voice.

      “Ah, don’t go…”

      “Friends are heading to the next bar.”

      “Are you crawling?”  he asked, his hand on my arm to slow me down.

      I nodded and turned away.  Fuck them.  Why do I have to go…?  Did they not—  Fuck.  Sometimes I hate my cockblocking friends.

     Marklowe’s Tiki Bar banked on its Carribbean themed décor and bright colors that splashed across the walls and floor to the huge tiki covered bar set a super loud atmosphere, while the ginormous umbrella drinks made for a good landing place to just be idiotic.  I ground down on Patrick’s thigh to the worst manufactured music ever, but loved every moment of it.  The friends were bouncing around like it was their last night on the planet.  Because each drink was the size of four, and were the cost of six, we kept our time in the tiki to a minimum.  Jordan dragged me to the ladies room while the others were finishing up their drinks.  As I was fixing my lipstick, she was talking about the job that was drawing her away back home to Houston.  I could hear her stress over leaving Sidney behind.  She was trying to rationalize waiting a year for her closest friend to graduate.  I knew it was just fear talking.  She would take that job and do very well as she worked towards her goal of being a partner in her mother’s law firm.  I watched as she pulled out her phone with a scoff.

     “They are heading for the door,”  she groaned.  “Fuckers.  It’s like they want to sprint across the district tonight.”

     I was the first to push my way out of the restroom, only to stumble over my own toes in my rush, running right against someone.  Looking up, I felt my face blush as I was met with the rich chocolate eyes of the guitarist.  He helped me upright, moving me flush against his frame.  His hands drifted down my arms as all I could do was stare at him as his smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

      Just as Jordan’s hand wrapped around my wrist he asked, “Still having fun?”

      I turned my body back towards his as Jordan started to drag me away.  “Absolutely!”  I called out.

      I could not look away from the smirk that he shot me.  Jordan gave me a look that could melt steel as we passed the bar in a near rush to catch up to the friends.

     “Good god, girl!  That’s the guitar player,”  she said, unable to contain the bomb of her surprise.

     I smiled wide as I looked back behind me once again, just able to see where he had been.  “Pretty, right?”

     Maxie’s Singing Bar continued the stupidity of the evening by adding karaoke to the mix.  Patrick was insisting on singing with Sidney, so we waited.  And waited more.  I nestled into Patrick’s side, trying to avoid the barrage of questions about apartments, and the job, and ‘why the hell are you going to fucking St. Paul?’  I found myself being coy because, seriously?  I was about to start getting some serious chops in my field, with a damn fine salary to boot.  

      “Come on, punkin.  Let’s get another round of drinks,”  Patrick replied as he slid out from the glittery plastic booth.  

      He held my hand all the way up to the bar.  “You can’t let them get the better of you, Y/n,”  he said as we waited.  “They don’t get it.  You’re the first one of us to grow the fuck up.”

     The idea of being on a plan with one of those little paper bags shoved on my face was not appealing.  I was silently begging for no hangover, despite the spin of alcohol in my veins.  I just… Ugh.  I spaced out as he ordered the round.  My brain was fighting lists of stuff that I had packed weeks ago, along with movers and my parents flying in over the following weekend to ensure I was set up right.  I desperately fought off the sudden urge to ask to leave.  Patrick had asked to stop her when we were planning out the night.  I knew it was probably the one time that he could cut loose with the ever lovely Sidney - the object of his eternal pining, although he would never openly admit it to anyone other than me.     

      I was startled as the bartender set a glass of ice water at my elbow.  I smiled up at him.  “Thank you, sweetheart.”

      “You’re so old,”  he teased as I batted my eyelashes at him.

      “Why, just because I refuse to be sick off my ass tomorrow?”  I asked before taking another drink.

      He wrapped me up in a hug, holding onto me for a beat too long.  

      “Ugh, what the fuck is up with you tonight,”  I scoffed as I made a face at him.

      “What?”  he asked, feigning innocence.

      “You’re like extra touchy feely and shit.”  I noticed his gaze turned to Sidney and it’s like watching all of that man’s insides turn to absolute goo.  I sighed deeply.  “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Patty.”

      “Why the fuck not?”  he asked, instantly defensive.

      “I’m not telling you not to, just - she’s more focused than I am,”  I reasoned, tracing figure 8s in the condensation on my glass.  “You want way more than what she’s willing to give to anyone, including you, handsome.”

       He didn’t say anything.  I felt terrible as I realized I had just deflated him completely.  I threaded my fingers through his and gave him a little squeeze.

       “Maybe I just need to take what I can to get the fuck over it,”  he said directly in my ear, the heat of his body matching the pain in his words.

       “You’re better than that, dick,”  I grumbled just as a bartender started to put up our order.

      “Patty!”  Sidney called as she strutted towards the stage and mics.  

      It was a rare moment of stillness that my dearest friend handed to me.  My heart broke for him.  

      He nodded as he reached for a shot that had been set before him and downed it.  “Love you.  You got all this?”

       I watched as he strolled towards her, putting back his persona on like it was his armor.  Looking back at the bartop, I groaned.  “No, I don’t got this, fucker.”

      I tried to get Jordan’s attention, but she was too far up Joe’s ass to bother looking at me waving like a lunatic.  As I’m turning back to the bar to see if I can spy a tray, my eyes caught on the front door as the guitarist and his group walked in.  I froze, taking in what he was wearing - the dark washed skinny jeans, boots and a chopped dark red t-shirt.  His wrists were filled with bracelets and there’s a long necklace that falls just below his pecks.  A soft breath escapes me as his eyes seem to lock right on mine and the cocky smile greets me.  I had no way to actually run, and could only watch as he approached, all full of swagger. 

       “Okay, third run in; time for introductions.  I’m Jake,”  he said as he approached, hand out as if he’s going to shake my hand formally.

       “Well, counting the record store, it’s the fourth run in,”  I remarked with a grin before I gave him my name and my hand.

      Instead of shaking it, however, he turned his palm up, passing the pad of his thumb across my knuckles as he leans in against the bar.  He had me so distracted that I did not see Pat reach across my blindside for his and Sidney’s drinks.

       “We’re up!”  he nearly squealed, retreating quickly.

       “Make it super slutty!”  I shouted after him.

       Suddenly, because of the shift, I came up nose to nose with the newly introduced Jake.  He tried to back up, but was trapped.  I tried to move back, but there was nowhere to go either.  A deep blush swept across my face as he let out a gentle laugh over our dilemma.  I instantly breathed him in - all tobacco, sandalwood, lavender and him.  His hands caught my arms to steady me and I let out a nervous giggle.  A fucking giggle.  As if it couldn’t get worse - it did.  Patrick and Sidney started belting out “Love in an Elevator” in the most sleazy manner possible.  I let out an absolute cackle before I could catch myself.

        Jake’s eyes popped wide as he took in the scene unfolding behind me and I can only assume Patrick took my ‘slutty’ suggestion to the absolute max.  I looked over my shoulder to find the pair grinding against each other in a nearly illegal manner.

       “Oh my god,”  I breathed, instantly trying to delete the sight from my eyes.  I reached for the closest drink and took it down as fast as I could, only to find that it was my water.  “Fucking figures.”

      I regrouped and grabbed my beer and took a long, soothing swallow.  He was watching me fumble the entire time, a smirk plastered on his mouth and those damn eyes just full of heat.  “Sorry, that whore friend of mine is under the impression he needs to blow my life up at any given moment of every damn day.”

      As if she knew that he was close, Jordan magically realized that I needed help with the drinks.  I was shifting glasses around to make room for Jake’s order of beers and tequila shots as she sauntered up, tits out and hips swaying like she’s walking down a catwalk.  

      “That’s all right,”  Jake replies, downing a shot with barely a grimace.  “I’ve got three like that myself.  At least you’re not related to any of them like I am.”

      My brow furrowed as I set my beer down.  “I was not getting Jonas Brothers vibes from you guys.”

      His laugh was warm and inviting.  “Damn, I hope not.”

      “Hey-”  Jordan called, leaning in close.  “I’ll take what I can.”

      I started handing over drinks, trying not to notice that she was trying to flash her amazing cleavage as she bent slightly into Jake.  I couldn’t help the smug feeling when I realized that his eyes were either directly on me, or his own beer.  She tapped the side of my foot before she made her way back to the table.  

     “Rude to keep us waiting, Jacob.”  Another set of hands were reaching across his chest.

     It was then that I noticed the similar ridge of cheekbones, the jawline, the mouth…  I looked back at Jake and he must’ve seen what I found confusing.

     “Twin,”  he said with a little eye roll.

     “Identical,”  the other said with a little huff.  “Hi, I’m Josh.”

     My eyebrows shot up as the brother started walking off towards their table.  “So not Jonas Brothers, but The Proclaimers?”

     “Oh fuck no,”  he laughed before taking another drink of his beer.  “Are they supposed to be doing that?”

     It was at that second that I realized Sidney and Patrick are no longer singing.  I lock on Jake’s eyes and freeze.  “I don’t know if I want to know…”

     Why had I looked back at the stage?  Why did I have to be a witness to such an event?  I wanted nothing more than to grab hold of the cheapest bottle of behind the bar and douse my eyeballs with it.  

     “Ew,”  I flinched as I turned back towards the guitarist, finding the space even more crammed and my hands were now on his very nice, very firm chest.  I looked up into his face and he had this endearing look like he’s about to…  Yup, he graciously wrapped a hand around my hip holding me close.  My brain was just on the verge of rupture when I heard Jordan chirping about what was happening before them.

      “I take it that’s not a good thing,”  he whispered against my ear.

      “Not really, no,”  I sighed, nearly against his mouth as his lips part.

      I wanted to fall into his mouth and lose myself in his touch.  I was so damn close until I saw Jordan and Sidney fly out past us and the rest of the group straggling behind.  I looked behind me and found a very upset Patrick, collecting their glasses and heading for the bar.  I watched as he set the glasses down on the bartop and headed towards the door without a look at me.

      “I fucking hate drama,”  I sighed.

      His hand tightened on my hip, bringing my attention back to him.  I looked into his handsome face and smiled sadly.  I puffed my cheeks out and shook my head.

      “Just when this was getting interesting,”  I replied, drawing a little squiggle against the skin just under his collar bone.  “I better catch up with them.”

      “You want me to -”

      “Naw,”  I said as I finally stepped away from him, instantly regretting the distance.  “This is probably gonna get messy.”

      “Maybe I’ll see you again,”  he said with a soft grin.

      I shyly tucked a hair behind my ear.  “I hope so.”

      I didn’t bother with a fast walk to try to catch up with them.  Patrick was waiting just outside the door, smoke in hand and a mournful look etched across his features.

      “What the hell, Patrick?”  I scolded as I stole his smoke for a drag.  

      “Fucking Jordan,”  he grumbled, rubbing his hands across his face.  “Why would she do that?”

      “I don’t know, Pat - maybe because you two fucked way back when…”

      “Maybe.  That was a ‘maybe’.  We have no idea if we did or not.”

      “If you wake up naked by each other, it’s pretty likely you did, you whore.”

      I couldn’t stop my anger at that moment.  The night was supposed to be about the friends - it was supposed to celebrate me getting the fucking job that I had dreamed about; the job I had worked my ass off for.  I did not hide my disappointment.

      “They just went into Benny’s,”  I said, seeing Joe waving at us from the corner.

      “I don’t want to be there,”  he said quietly.

      I rolled my eyes like a bad friend.  It wasn’t even Sidney that put him off.  She was…  I didn’t really want to even think about it.  He knew - Pat had to know that it would be short term.  I just didn’t even want to broach that possibility.  Was he willing to hurt himself just to say he had some time with her?  That just broke my heart a little more for him.

      “Fine.  How about we get some coffee and sit out Benny’s,”  I suggested, tugging on his sleeve.  “Come on.  My treat.”

      I sat with my dearest friend on the planet as he processed what had happened.  I listened to him as he knew - he just knew that it would be better to know than to always wonder.  It wasn’t like she was plastered out of her mind.  She had actually leaned in first and he just couldn’t stop the moment she touched him.  

      “It will never be what you want it to be,”  I said quietly, holding the cup tight.  “Sid has such an entrenched idea of what she wants to do, Patty.  She hasn’t had anyone with any permanence ever.  What you have to offer, alluring as it is, it’s not what she’s looking for.  At least not right now.”

      He let out a long breath.  “I love the way she fucking tastes.  How can I-”

      “Stop.”

      He nodded, getting my drift.  He fiddled with the handle of his empty mug.  I could feel him returning to normal, even though I knew he was hurting.  I reached across the table and took his hand in mine to give a little squeeze.

      I flipped my phone over to discover that Joe had sent a text that they were moving onto the pool hall.  I loved playing pool.  I sucked at playing pool, but I loved playing it.  I put on my doe eyes with every intention of yanking my friend along with me if I had to.  He smiled and seemed to find his resolve.  We walked hand in hand to the end of the drag, finding everyone seemed to have the same idea.  The pool hall was packed and I knew it was going to be impossible to get a table.  Joe shouted out from a high top table that they had crowded around.  

     I saw Jordan and Sidney were already at the bar.  I texted Sid our arrival and kept my eyes on her when she looked at her phone.  Her eyes immediately move over to us, specifically Patrick.  Hmm.  Interesting.  Perhaps her lack of steady company was not necessarily due to a singular focus on finishing college with a 4.0.  What more, Pat’s gaze on her and it just feels - good.  I smiled as Joe offered me his seat in order to stand.  His voice was loud and liquor happy.  No doubt he would be sobbing about the ex soon enough.  

     We fell into being normal once again.  Jordan and Sidney returned with the round and we got back to our celebratory vibe.  My ear caught the music across the room - someone had actually taken time to curate something good from the jukebox as some more obscure Black Sabbath worked across the din of the packed house.  I sipped at my Tito’s + cranberry, trying to pay attention to those with me instead of the idea of being rudely interrupted from having time with the luscious Jake.  The frustration of it made me squeeze my thighs just a bit as my long neglected core wept for attention.

      We must’ve been in the hall for about an hour when we started getting antsy.  No tables were opening up - at all.  Sidney was leaning into Patrick’s shoulder and their hands were tightly together.  Jordan was talking rapidly, Joe had his eyes on the ceiling.  Things felt like they would spiral out of control at any moment.

      “Hey, Y/n - isn’t that guy in that other guy’s band?”  Sidney asked, her brows raised like she was trying hard to put her thoughts together.  “I mean, isn’t that the singer of that band?”

      I followed where she’s pointing, and sure enough, there was Josh with the tall drummer right behind him, carrying a couple of empty pitchers.  I felt a little stutter in my chest as I looked around the room.  

      “Hey, punkin,”  Patrick called to me, capturing my attention once more.  “Help me at the bar, yeah?”

      I knew what he was doing.  Fucker.  I slid out of the tall chair and held his hand as we made our way out for another round.  I couldn’t help the little flutter of possibility that Jake would be in the room somewhere.  If his hands on me earlier was an indicator, I had a glimmer of a chance of something to finish out the celebration - maybe?  Patty got us to the bar, close enough to the two but far enough away to not appear like I was trolling them or anything weird like that.  

      We watched as the bartenders flew around that bar space.  They were beyond busy.  From the corner of my eye, I saw that Josh and the drummer were reaching for fresh pitchers.  Just as they were moving away, Josh stopped.  

      “Shit come on,”  I heard him say sharply.  “You can’t stay just a little longer?”

       I turned to look at the pair to see Jake had joined them.  Was he leaving?  Fuck.  No.  Okay.  I could be totally smooth about this, right?  Pat was leaned over the bar to give our order and was totally unaware of my awkwardness to give me any help at all.  I was a big girl.  I could do this.  Just one foot in front of the other.  Just move the damn feet…

       I ducked in between the crowd and started in his general direction, hoping that he’d catch my eye before I’m right on top of them.  Just as I was about to chicken out, those searing brown eyes touched my face and stopped.  The other two glanced over and Josh patted Jake's chest before walking away with beer filled pitchers towards the pool tables.

       “Fifth time charm?”  he asked as he closed the space.  “Drama over?  You look to have survived.”

        I smiled wide as he drew so close I could breathe him in.  My brain caught fire with all of him as he reached out, his fingers brushed against my arm until he took my hand in his.  “Yes,”  I answered, trying not to shout over the loudness of the space.  “Drama over.  Last stop of the night, but we’ve already been waiting on a table for over an hour.”

      “We’ve got a table,”  he said, brows pulling together as he looked back in the direction of the far back corner.  “We don’t mind sharing.  Wanna join in?”

      I glanced around at Pat at the bar and the friends at the high top.  Just to get away from the crowded singular table would be nice.  I see Patrick step away from the bar with another pitcher and in need of help with glasses held in his paw of a hand.  I raise a finger to Jake and try to help the best I can.

      “Oh, look who you found,”  he remarked as Jake moved towards us.

      “We’ve got a table.  Tell this friend of yours we are more than happy to share,”  Jake said, taking a couple of the drinks from Pat.

       “Yeah, friend.  If he wants to share and all…”  

       Jake tightened his hold on my hand with a little tug, as if I would say ‘no’.  Jake took off in one direction, Pat in the other to retrieve the group.  I’m being guided along, eyes planted on the ass encased in denim that leaves me knowing that I’m a terrible person for the thoughts that are suddenly raging through my skull.  The man’s thighs were making me drool as he turned to the side to slide between people, making sure that I was still with him, even though he held my hand tight.  I grinned at him, careful not to drop my own drink as we bobbled through the crowd.

        Their table was at the very back of the pool hall - the farthest from the bar, but took advantage of a bartop that followed the corner and provided plenty of space to accommodate everyone.  I quietly hoped that Joey would be polite and keep his sour take on their music to himself.  Patrick was in the lead with the others trailing behind.  Introductions were fast, with Sam and Josh and Danny blending in right away.  A new game was racked and underway within moments.  I stood to the side, watching Pat and Sidney on the other side of the table just stay close to each other.  There was a vibe there that was hard to not see.

        “After that last place, I thought for sure my chance was used up,”  Jake remarked, eyes on me with a smile in place.  “Looks like whatever drama there was, love prevailed, huh?”

        I felt my smile spread as I tilted my head.  It was hard not to feel a bit squishy over how he put the soon to be very brief love affair between friends.  “Yeah,”  I said quietly.  “For now at least.”

       It was just fun to drink and play pool and be stupid with these four men.  Jake and Pat teamed up against Sidney and Joey.  I sat back as I watched that man look very sexy sprawled on the pool table, ass and thighs on display and I just couldn’t look away.  And he knew it.  He so knew that I was blazing holes into his flesh with my eyes in the most disrespectful manner possible.  What more, the way his eyes passed across my skin etched paths that I so wanted him to explore.

       The next game, Jake was looped into playing with Sam against Jordan and Joe.  Pat asked me to join him for a smoke, and the guitarist watched as I blew him a kiss and followed my friend.  The clock was edging closer to two as he handed me a cigarette and waited for me to light it.

      “That man wants to tear you up, love,”  he said calmly, with a face that fought to keep straight.  “I think I’ve lost count how many times Jordan has tried to get his attention, but he only has eyes for you, Y/n.”

       I got a grin that I cannot hide, so I don’t bother.  I let out a tight breath before taking a long drag.  “Yeah and you and Sid are looking pretty damn cozy.”

       “It just feels good,”  he replied, eyes falling down on the sidewalk.

       “You’re going to have to have a serious conversation before you lose in this, Patrick,”  I said firmly.  “I won’t be here to pick up your pieces.  I can’t handle thinking that you’re hurting on your own.”

       “I know.  You’re right.”

       I flipped my hair over my shoulder as a warm summer breeze struck my frame.  I was going to miss it in Ann Arbor.  I had been missing it terribly, already.  Lansing was…  well.  It was Lansing.  

       “So, what are you going to do?  I don’t think I can watch you flirt with that man without any kind of outcome,”  he said with a silly grin.  “I mean it’s so obvious he’s interested.”

       I shrugged.  “Not sure.”

      “Bull shit.”

      I looked up at my friend, finding support.  He’d never judge me for what I wanted to do, even if it were to be a one night stand with the most gorgeous man.  Hell, even if that man was okay looking, I could count on Pat to just respect the fact I was doing something to make myself happy.  

      “Look, if I were you - hell, if you don’t, maybe I will - but,”  he started, letting out a laugh that filled me with confidence, “I think you need to march that ass in there and tell that man exactly what you want from him and see what happens.  I bet you he runs you out of here in ten seconds flat.”

      I rolled my eyes and took the last drag of my smoke.  Following Patty back inside, I was trying to think about how to sugar coat what I was going to say to Jake.  By the time we got all the way to the back of the room, and my eyes fell onto him leaned up against the bartop, feet crossed at the ankles, face relaxed, eyes on fire, I just knew I needed to be as direct as possible.  I walked right up to him and he slid a hand across the small of my back as I leaned against his body.  I stared into his eyes, finding them welcoming.  His lips parted as I brush mine against his as I push past to land next to his ear.

       “I’m getting my ass out of here - new town, new life,”  I whispered, fighting the urge to lap at his earlobe.  “Will you be the end of my night?  Help me celebrate?”

       I feel his body shift fractionally as he brings his other hand up to rest between my shoulder blades, nearly locking me in place against him.  Our mouths were not touching anything, but just passing along as if mapping out where to kiss, where to taste, where to…  His tongue passed across his bottom lip as he stood up fully, threading his fingers with mine.

       “Danny,”  he called out.  “You’re good bunking with them other two?”

      He didn’t even wait for an answer, just started walking out with me in tow.  I could hear Patty’s cackle behind us.  The exhilaration that had begun to pump through my chest nearly made me choke.  We reached outside and he paused, eyes trailing up and down the street.

      “Where are you staying?”  I asked as we started to cross the street.

      He points at an older hotel that is just down the way and I am thankful I will not have to wait too much longer.  He held the door open for me and we crossed the abandoned lobby towards the elevator.  After a minute of waiting, he shook his head, the tell of his own impatience.  He chuckled as he spun us to the stairs.

      “I’m just on the second floor anyway,”  he said, once again holding the door for me.  

      Before my foot landed on the stair, he held me back, turning me to face him.  God, he was pretty as he crashed into me, his mouth hard as he nearly consumed me in our kiss.  Our hands were everywhere all at once as we fumbled up the stairs.  I gasped as my back met the wall at the landing.  His hands were on my face and in my hair and on my hips, and on my…  FUCK this man seemed to be as thirsty for touch as I was.  His mouth on my throat made me moan a bit too loud.  It was enough to make us move up the stairs once more, but two steps up, we were searching for touch again.  I nearly tumbled as I yanked him towards me so I could start to rip at his belt.  He caught me, crashing his mouth into mine, fingers pressed into my hair with a soft groan as I released the leather bind of his jeans.

       There was no hiding intent.  We banged down the hall, bumping into walls, furniture; unable to break from each other’s touch.  He held me close as he slid the key card into the room’s lock.  I sucked on his ear lobe, laughing as he couldn’t get the timing right to push down the door handle when the lock unlatched.  It took two tries before he finally grumbled and had to push me back just a bit to get us inside.  

       The room was not remarkable, even though the only thing in my head was him.  His fingers caught the slit of the skirt and tucked inside as I feasted on his tongue.  He barely brushed the boyshorts I was wearing and growled wickedly when he found I was drenched through the cotton of the garment.  

       “Ready for this, aren’t you?”  he asked as I nearly ripped off his shirt to reveal miles of his skin for me to mark and explore.

       “Honestly, if you don’t get that monster in you pants in me right now, I may have to-”

       He grabbed my hips and spun my ass around and bent me over the desk chair, forcing my hands down onto the seat.  “You think I’ve got a monster dick?”

       I whined a bit as he jacked up my skirt and slid down my panties, giving me a hearty pinch across my bottom.  He was humming as he planted a kiss directly on the dip of the small of my back.  I felt him lean back and hear the tear of something.  I looked back to see him taking out a condom and rolling across what I had suspected all along - fucking monster sized cock was about to send me into orbit.

       “Like that, do you?”  he asked, voice husky as he rolled the latex across his length.  “Big enough?”

       I didn’t hide it, I licked the drool from the corner of my mouth with a pitiful moan.  “You gonna fuck me good with that, aren’t you…”

       A sound between a moan and a chirp pounds itself from my throat as he lines himself up against me.  “Be a good girl now.  This is all for you.”

       He had me clenching around him on the first thrust.  He was playing me like his cherry red guitar, eliciting sounds from me that I had never made before.  The stretch and sting was top tier as he set a pace that was like one of his guitar solos.  He had one hand on my clit while the other pressed against my spine, dipping under the thin fabric of my shirt and pushing it up, as if relishing each bump and twist of my bones until my shirt was pushed up and over my head to pool at my wrists.  I was full on panting as he stood me up, still buried deep within me.  I shoved the chair aside as he bit into my ear and throat.  I was pressed to the desk, cheek down on the laminate with my feet kicked wide so he could have even better access to my pussy.  He brought one hand down to palm my ass and he ruthlessly pinched at my breast as he plowed forward.  I looked back at him to find his eyes hard on me, his mouth open with a feral breath.

       “I will suck that cock tonight,”  I demanded, pushing my ass back on him.

       “Holy fuck you will,”  he concurred, digging his hands into my hips.

       He reached out, taking hold of my shoulder, slowing down to press into me so deep I thought for sure he would split me in half.  My face fell forward as I sighed over the new rhythm.  My skin became drenched in flame as he bent over me, lips on my bare shoulder.

       “Cum hard, pretty girl,”  he whispered before he flicked my earlobe with his tongue.

       My chest exploded as I collapsed forward fully on the desk as I sprayed my climax out onto him.  He let out a low groan as he came right after, pulsing into me a few more times before coming to a stop.  We both struggled to catch our breath.  He twitched and shuttered before he gently pulled himself from me.  His palm came down on my back with a whispered ‘stay here’.  

      By the time he returned, my breathing had gone from ‘holy shit I can’t breathe’ down to ‘I just finished power walking after that lush ass, sir’.   

      “This is going to be a little cold,”  he said before pressing a washcloth against my swollen cunt.  I barely flinched as he cleaned me up gently.  I started to reach for my panties, but he stopped me.  “I’m not done celebrating yet.  Are you?”

        I grinned as he shyly pressed a kiss to my forehead.  I watched as he moved back to the bathroom to clean up further.  

      “Why don’t you get out of that skirt and meet me on the bed, Y/n,”  he said when the water was turned off.

      “Which one is yours?”  I asked as I draped my clothes over the chair.

      “Uh…”  He strolled out of the bathroom, his own clothes over his arm, his cock flaccid but still impressive against his thigh.  He tossed his clothes on top of the now forgotten desk and steered me towards the bed by the window.  He pressed every inch of skin to mine as he kissed me, backing me up until we both fell onto the mattress.  

      To say we made out is an understatement.  I lost myself in his touch: his mouth, his hands, fuck his body.  Every press against me made me quiver with anticipation.

      “So,”  he said in between kisses to my mouth.  “New city?”

      “St. Paul,”  I answered before dragging his lip in between my teeth.

      “Job?”  

      “I’m joining a graphic arts company who contracts with venues for entertainment and corporate events,”  I said quietly.

      He paused and looked me in my face.  “I wouldn’t even know what you do, but it sounds like you’re going to work with the big talent in my field.”

      I shrugged.  “I will sometimes.”

      He kissed me hard once more, his hands sliding down my back.  I threaded my fingers in his hair as he kissed down my body.  I was already flooding between my thighs as he parted them to make room for himself.  He passed a callused finger across the stripe of downy curls, planting kisses to my hip and the top of my thigh.

      “I wasn’t planning on being close up ready,”  I whisper, blushing over the idea that I had not totally groomed down there for the night.  “Sorry…”

      He hummed, kissing down in between the curls.  “I like it,”  he sighed as he breathed in.  

      I watched as he placed a chaste kiss to each side of where my thighs met my labia.  I sucked in a breath as he brushed his lips against the delicate skin, his nose ghosting over the hair.  He smiled wickedly as he tongued my clit after pressing me open for his whim.  He rolled his eyes up on me, taking in how my breasts bounced a bit as my breath came a little faster.  He made eye contact as he sucked me in, circling my nub as he did so.  I squeaked.  I fucking squeaked and I am not ashamed that I squeaked.  He settled in and I had the bed cover knotted in my hand on the right, and tugging at his hair on the left.  He blew across the curls before rising up a bit, taking a moment to really look across my body.  I felt like a beautiful mess that he was laying claim to.  

       “Good?”  Jake asked, leaning his head against my thigh.

       “Yes,”  I sighed, unclenching my fingers against his scalp.  “So good.”

      The corner of his mouth tugged before he lowered down, sliding in one finger as he pushed his tongue against my entrance.  I released a gasp as he went into work.  My words got filthier the longer he worked my pussy.  He hummed, cooed, whispered against my flesh and I begged him for more.  I will not say that he was edging, but he would bring me to a high, only to gently let me down a bit before taking me higher than before.  It was a beautiful thing that this man was doing to me - it was worship and I accepted it wholeheartedly.

       “How about we shift to 69?”  I asked as he licked my slit.  

       He grinned as he pulled himself up and turned around to slide his arms under my thighs to yank me wide open for him.  I rolled his balls between my fingers as I nibbled on his thick tip before sinking him down my throat in a hard thrust.  

       “Holy fuck,”  he gasped, as I tugged him while hollowing out my cheeks to let him go with a pop.  

       “Good?”  I asked, trying to look around the heavy cock that was immediately growing hard against my hold.

       He nodded as he watched me do it all again.  I raised an eyebrow at him before I let him go again.

       “I need your words, cupcake,”  I said with sass in my tone.

       “You’re going to fucking kill me, aren’t you, Y/n?”  he muttered before pushing two fingers deep inside me with a firm curl to make me buck my hips.

       “No more than what you are doing to me,”  I gurgled the words before I began to love on him.

        The sounds I was able to draw out of him pulsed into my core and radiated up through my entire body.  Fuck this man was better than the little deaths he shot through me.  I drew his balls down before tucking a finger to the space behind them.  He jolted against me before settling back down.  I sucked him down hard before pressing into the spot again with purpose.  He let out a startled moan.  I let him fall out of my mouth, giving the base of his length little kitten licks to soothe him for a moment.

       “Don’t tell me no one has ever done this for you?”  I whispered, looking through my own tits at him.

       “No,”  he said quietly.

       “I can reward you so good for the head you just gave me,”  I said gently, tickling my finger across the space once more.  “But only if you want me to, Jake.”

       He lifts his frame a bit higher to come to rest his forehead on my pubic bone.  “You’d do that?”

       “Oh hell yes,”  I answered with a confident smile.  “But only if you want it.”

      His eyes narrowed a bit, watching as I continued to lick and lap at his shaft and base.  His breath was spiking with anticipation as he licked at his lips.  “Do it,”  he said, his voice filled with rasp.

      I took him back into my mouth hard, plunging him in and out quickly to cause the spit to build on my tongue.  He’s grinding into me until I hold his hips still, letting him fall from my lips and I scoot back a bit to spit into his already spread cheeks.  He gasped out a string of curses as I swirled my middle finger into his velvet.  I planted kisses to his thigh as I pumped his cock the best I can at the weird angle.  I watched his face as he relaxed, allowing me to sink my finger in slowly.  His jaw dropped as I blew across his balls.  He groaned as his cheek came back down on my thigh.  Both hands were gripping the bed cover tightly.  His eyes were shimmering with pleasure as I began to stroke in and out.  He sounded beautiful as I tried to see his face, but he’s angled so that I really couldn’t see him, like he was afraid he was going to crush me if he laid down flat.  

       “Jake?”  I asked, before pooling more spit in my mouth to blow it to his hole for more lube.

      “Oh my ever loving fuck…”  he ground out.

      I grinned before I leaned in a fraction, just close enough to lick at the base and his balls once more.  Suddenly, he came all over my chest - hard and loud.  In his surprise, he lifted himself, my finger still deep within him as if he just realized what had happened.  I withdrew and he hissed as he climbed away, cheeks blazing red.

       “Jake?”  I asked, afraid to move for fear of making a mess.  

      “Just stay right there,”  he said loudly.  “I’ll be right back!”

      I heard the water at the sink turn on and him deep breathing like he was in a panic.  He kept repeating himself,  “Come on, come on, come on, come on…”  

      I awkwardly crossed my legs and tried to be modest, but it was rather difficult with cum that was pooling and dripping off my chest.  He rushed back, and I could see he was absolutely flustered and more than a little embarrassed.

      “Hey,”  I said gently, trying to get his attention as he began to wipe at the mess.

      “Oh my god,”  he sighed as his cheeks reddened all the more.  “I’m so sorry I did that.  I - fuck…”

      “Hey, Jake,”  I repeated, reaching out and touching his arm to stop him.  “Why would you be sorry for that?  That was something beautiful.”

      “Well I fucking cummed on your tits like a two pump chump, Y/n,”  he remarked as he went back to wiping me off.  “What the hell…”

       “No,”  I said, catching his hand once again.  “Did it feel good?”

       “Well, obviously,”  he said sharply. “Maybe a little too good.”

       “No one’s done that for you.  You didn’t know what to expect.  Did you like it?”

       He stood up as I took his hand.  Finally, he made eye contact and the redness of his cheeks began to fade.  It was like he was realizing that I was not scolding him for cumming so fast.  He grinned before setting back into wiping himself off me.

       “I liked it,”  he admitted.  “I’m pissed that I couldn’t hold on for more.”

       I watched as he finished his part and I pushed myself up on my elbows.  “Well, is the celebration done yet?”

       He laughed.  Like threw his head back and laughed as I used his words.  He shook his head.  He said he’d be right back and took off back towards the bathroom.  I will admit, watching that ass sway was a sight to behold.  He returned with a couple bottles of water.  He opened one before handing it to me.  

     I waited for him to settle in up against the headboard to lay back against him.  I listened to him breathing for a long while.  He drew little pictures into my arm as we just collected ourselves and the time we have shared.  I was nearly on the verge of dozing when he shifted, drawing my attention back to him.

     “I want to make out more,”  he whispered against my mouth.  “It’s like I can’t get enough of you.”

     It’s my turn to laugh a bit.  I kissed him deeply before heading to the bathroom for a moment.  I took my time in cleaning myself up.  I swore I could still feel the heat of his mouth against my skin.  It made me smile as I made my way back to him.  I paused, finding him sitting up against the headboard, eyes closed and fully relaxed.  He was really breathtakingly handsome.  He took his hand from his hair that he had been holding and it swished down around his shoulders.  He held his hand out for me to join him and I slid in.  He rolled me onto my back and brushed my hair back away from my face.  

      “You’re so pretty,”  he whispered before placing a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth.  

      His body flooded me with warmth and need once more.  This kiss was slow and unhurried.  We trailed caresses across each other as if relishing the moment so as to not forget it.  We were literally moving in two opposite directions - no matter what.  This was going to be it, and it was like we were both very aware of that fact.  I knew I was just going to enjoy my time in this man’s hands for as long as I could.  I rose up against his side, allowing him to wrap his arms around me to bring me in flush.  I absorbed his body heat as he stuck his tongue deep within me.  I could get used to the way this man kissed me.  Damn.

       I straddled his middle and brought myself up enough for him to drag those magical fingers back through me once more.  Jake hooked his arms under mine and rose up to flip me back so that I was back on my back.

      “Hold on,”  he replied as he slid off the bed and went to a duffle bag.  He returned, tearing open a condom.  His eyes flicked to mine as he set the open package on the nightstand.  “Sorry.  Just needed one of those things.”

      “Thank you,”  I said as he sunk down against me with a searing kiss.

      It did not take long for him to have me panting once more.  He tugged and sucked at my breasts.  He pushed my legs wide and placed my hands on my knees to hold close to my sides.  I watched as he quickly rolled the thin piece of latex onto his shaft, all the while, he encouraged me to keep myself going.  He gave a little laugh as he lifted my hips and slowly entered me.  We moaned in unison.  My head fell back, chin pointed at the ceiling.  He was inching in and out, ensuring every point within me was being stimulated.  He would pause, buried so deep and give his hips a little grind to make me whimper with joy.  He watched my face so closely, so attentively that I wanted to weep.  Each strike he soothed and kissed at my skin, soaking me and wringing me out like I was his doll.  

         He gathered my body up and held on to me tight as he began to move with purpose.  I took his place in grinding against him, staying with his body each time he withdrew only to return with force.  I held onto him with all that I had.  I knew my sounds were filling the air all around us, mixing and melting with his own.  It was beautiful and fleeting and mind altering as he fucked into me.  I lowered my hand, grabbing his hand firmly and he sucked a deep breath.

        “Try that again?”  I whispered my question with his face buried in my neck.

        “Yes…”  he answered back, scraping his teeth against my shoulder.  

        I pushed my thumb into my mouth, putting as much slick as possible onto it.  I pushed on his thigh to get him to open a bit more as he continued to work me.  Gently, I pressed the tip of my thumb against his entrance once more.  He groaned and I paused, just giving him a little swirl, a little time to adjust to my touch.  He whispered he was ready and I pressed as he buried himself to his hilt.  We gasped out over the sensation.  I had no intention of giving traction to my touch, just to give him this bit.  I hooked my digit back and forth, turned it back and forth as he fucked into me harder.  I could feel my body tightening, sprinting towards my high.  I looked up at him.  Sweat formed on his brow as his teeth were sunk into his bottom lip.  I was struck by his absolute beauty and nearly cried out because of it. 

       He looked me right in the eye and slammed into me.  I gasped out.  I couldn’t hold out any longer.  He repeated the move until I was near screaming his name with my thumb in his ass.  Satisfied that he had gotten to me, he dropped his chin to his chest and ground into me hard until he came hard.  I let my hand drift back to my side.  He held tight, planting little kisses across my collar bones.  I wiped his hair back from his forehead, trying hard to catch my breath once more.

      “Fuck I don’t want to move,”  I sighed as he kissed the top of each breast.

      “I got it,”  he said softly, letting me go.

      He stopped and grabbed his boxer briefs on his way to the bathroom this time.  I held myself steady as he cleaned himself up before coming back with a fresh wash cloth.  He started to wipe me up, but I took over, sitting up and heading towards the bathroom.  I took hold of my clothes and shut the door behind me.  

      I looked fucked out.  It was the only thought that struck me as I glanced in the mirror before I sat to pee.  That man had just fucked me and I admit I loved every moment of it.  I could smell him on my skin.  I could feel his heat still in my skin.  I wiped up and put myself slowly back together.  I gathered my hair up into a messy ponytail and tied it up with the flimsy jeweled tie.  I washed most of the smeared makeup off and stood back with glimpses of the memory of what had just happened dancing through my thoughts.  

      I stepped out of the bathroom to find him scrolling through his phone, the pile of his clothes next to him.  He looked up with a sleepy grin.

      “I have bus call in about ninety minutes,”  he said as he stood up.�� “Everyone is meeting downstairs at six to head out.  There’s a diner that’s open.  You want some breakfast?  I have a bit of time.”

      I shrug as I reach for my own bag.  “Maybe.”

      I caught sight of myself once more in the mirror over the desk.  Fuck.  I had never done something like this before.  Short term, benefits only hook ups, sure.  But one night stands with essentially a stranger?  Never.  A bubble of panic formed in my chest over not knowing how to handle the situation.  But it’s exactly what I wanted from him.  One night.  A night of celebration.  He ducked into the bathroom to take care of himself with a hesitant smile.  I glanced out the window.  It was fucking four thirty in the morning.  Bars were closed.  I was two blocks from Patrick’s apartment…

     Silently, I tucked my purse under my arm and paused at the bathroom door.  My chest felt like it was on fire.  I was going to just say ‘I’m heading out’, but instead, I found my hand on the door handle.  I walked quickly down the hall to the stairs and down into the still abandoned lobby and out the door.  My heart was pounding so fast that I was afraid I was doing something wrong by just leaving.  It was awkward and I didn’t do ‘awkward’.

      I didn’t stop until I got to Patty’s place.  I could hear his voice in his room calling out.

     “Y/n?  What are you doing back?  I’m…”  he called from behind his door.

     “Just keep fucking her, Patrick.  I’m just getting into the shower,”  I said loudly, much to the shrill chirp of embarrassment by Sidney.  “I’m just gonna crash on the couch.”

      And that was it.  My night of celebration was over, washed down the drain of the shower.  I hoped that Jake was smiling as he headed out from Ann Arbor.  I knew I’d be wearing this fucking smile for weeks to come…

(banner cred to @ saradika and mdni divider by @ cafekitsune)

And away we go!  I hope you liked this first part of the story!  I do have a tag list, let me know if you want to be added, or fill out the form here.  See you next Wednesday! @lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @gretavanbitches @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatcherc @loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @reesetrippingthelight @builtby-gvf @ignite-my-fire @wetkleenex-gvf @gold-mines-melting @starsasone @mysticalstarcatcher @montenegroisr @takenbythemadness @way-to-go-lad @cal-a-bungaa @thewritingbeforesunrise @leftjudgeempathsuitcase @brokenbells11 @imborrowedshesblue @vanfleeter @sammysvanfeet @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @jaketlove @gvfmarge @becinabubblegvf @wildbluesorbit @sinarainbows @thetroublegetssoloud71 @gracev0609 @gretavangroupie @fleet-of-fiction @edgingthedarkness @itsafullmoon @anythingforjtk @seenoversundown @klarxtr @hollyco @lyndz2names

#jake gvf #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #gvf #cd&fe #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fan fiction #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet AU #jake kiszka AU

[eat-men-like-air]

WARNING- THIS IS VERY LONG AND ALL OVER THE PLACE PROCEED WITH CAUTION AND IM SORRY IF READING THIS GIVES YOU BRAIN DAMAGE, I WROTE IT WITH ANOTHER PERSON HENCE THE CONFLICTING OPINIONS

ok the reason ‘a change of heart’ stands out is because of the contrast (or call it conflict) between the instrumental and vocals. we need to realise how slow (and soft) matty’s voice is and how it is barely catching up to the beat yet meeting it perfectly. To me, there is no audible evidence of any musical instrument in their conventional tone (except drums but we’ll leave it for now). There is no saxophone. And the spaces in the bridge are filled with splashes that sound comical if nothing else. It’s almost as if this weren’t meant to be a song coming from a band but a soundtrack born out of choices.

I personally think that Matty's lyricism resembles stream of consciousness writing. It is a Narrative process that replicates a person’s direct thought process so the words are written almost as if there is no barrier or filter between the brain and lyrics. Matthew Healy is a mentality writer for he has a crazy sense of introspection and his writing is hugely interrogative and cerebral. Where songs like love me, ugh, the sound are revelling in pastel shades of pink and orange, acoh is a black and white tragicomedy questioning the genuineness and legitimacy of the relationship.

i feel that acoh doesn't "question the genuineness and legitimacy of a relationship". it's made to be a scream to your ex letting them know you're not scared to admit the song. As someone who has come out of a "relationship", somebody else is a phase of jealousy that hangs after things break apart. it's the memory of your ex with every song you hear. it's fear of losing the person to somebody else when you have no right left. It's frustrating because you have no control. acoh is letting go, and moving on. its recollecting facts for how they are. acoh is a retreat, both physical and emotional, from the place that now seems draining. it's leaving a part of yourself to that place. (morning, new person)...

Matty understands that love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, nor does it boast on the internet. The partner pointing out the lacklustre things in the singer makes the listener understand that love does not dishonour others and is not self seeking and even when the relationship hits rock bottom, love always perseveres. The narrator has come to terms with the fact that love or a relationship is not a performance that should without fail have the significant other engaged, rather it's pouring out your heart and entrusting them with your own self.

The emotional and physical “retreat” presented in the song shows that it was all nice while it lasted and tells us how the toughest decisions can bring about the best outcomes. The narrator nurses the pains and scars of the relationship, penning down the now erased feelings, he is feeling everything so as to feel nothing.

The partner only "worries" about the narrator out of pity. The narrator doesn't grow these feelings from choice but necessity, for survival, to remain sane. A change of heart is not about love but a relationship that failed. It's not a song that wants to retrospect rather shame the person who left. You need to understand that nothing remains nice while it lasts and then doesn't. It rots while you're trapped, then pops like a bubble. The scars aren't "nursed" but replaced.

As the song reaches its close, it opposes the idea that vulnerability is synonymous with a complete loss of control, and is therefore incompatible with power as the singer finds himself capable of falling in love again.

The love feels like emotional exhaustion, it becomes a repeating seesaw game when the ups and downs aren't fun anymore. The singer realises that The parallel between them had never existed. So now instead of dragging on, the singer decides to get off. One can also interpret the seesaw metaphor for the way the narrator sees his partner in present and what he once saw her as.

"You're mad thinking you could ever save me" can be interpreted as a subconscious hit to the narrator's psyche. The song tells us that the narrator was a saviour (reference to the subtle art's saviour). What's different in their relationship is that the saviour gets off "the seesaw" first. He is tired of making things right and admits it to himself before the partner does it for him. The partner's comments are only fabrications and lies. Thus, they exist to not tell a story, but to make the narrator doubt the only actions he thinks he must do.

The narrator has this moment of epiphany when he finally realises that he doesn't need someone else to justify his own existence. The partner is more so obsessed with the idea of love rather than the person as she incessantly draws out the dignity from the narrator. She is using someone else in a parasitically symbiotic relationship for almost entirely social reasons. Using another person to fill the need for dramatic distractions that define individuality gives the narrator the perspective that everywhere you go (referring to the ‘city’) relationships are a script of narcissism and devotion for the sake of itself.

I think the only reason the relationship fails is because relationships are tough. Tough not only because of the emotional damage or jealousy they inflict but as in a difficult subject that needs to be learnt. A relationship is like two magnets that face north to north. It has friction, which is nothing but arguments that are tough and comments that are honest. But it is still getting closer when everything is at odds, when everything tries to pull you apart. It is being okay with the fact that your partner will get harder and harder to touch even with every inch you move towards them. It is being open to giving them the space and distance they need, never stepping in on their fields. Because love will then be a moment when you try to look away, finding yourself being pulled right in.

#the 1975 #matty healy #a change of heart

[blackgumball]

whats ur thoughts on toh? out of pure curiosity

aaaaaaalright so. the short of it is that s1 was mid, s2 was pretty great imo, and s3 SUCKED.

the long of it is that when i found out Dana Terrace was making a cartoon, I was excited. I admired her work on GF (which changed my life when I first saw it), and was looking forward to the Owl House.

when I started watching it, I figured it just wasn't my style. I had graduated high school found that i wasn't really into the 'school' element of stories anymore (which I remember hearing that Dana herself not being too interested in as well, but execs forced the crews hand). I also just don't care about witches very much. Luz didn't move me in any particular direction, nor did Eda. The animation was cute at points. I would say the best ting about the first season was the fight scenes, specifically the ones between Eda and Lilith. other than that the show was just fine.

season two. I loved season two. I thought it got a million times better. they introduced Hunter, who was probably my favourite character in the show, the stakes got higher, as did the quality of the storylines and arcs. I don't know! the show just became so exciting to watch. I had to drag myself through the first season but I was locked in on season 2 and very excited whenever new episodes were coming out.

so natch this is when disney decides to cut their legs out from under them.

look a huge part of me feels horrible for the cast and crew of the owl house. they had a decently popular narrative show that was being talked about WEEKLY and that still wasn't enough to save them from the axe.

so unfortunately I was watching rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles at around the same time I was watching the owl house. these shows were both canceled before they really got to end their narratives, and were given a shorter season/tv movie to wrap things up. I might've been 100x more forgiving to the owl house if rottmnt didn't EXCEL. granted, they're very different kinds of show, but rise really used what it had and made a heartfelt ending that insinuated the continuing adventures of the turtles. It really fucking worked (i love rise, everybody go watch rise)

so owl house gets three forty minute episodes to end its story, and the crew promised that just because they were short on time doesn't mean the show would be any worse. and I believed them.

the problem was, everything they chose to focus on in these episodes felt like the wrong choice.

so, context. the villain of the show since season one has been Emperor Belos. he's this big, creepy looking fascist dictator who wants everybody to be learning ONE kind of magic. he gives people special tattoos on the inside of their forearms to make sure they can't use more than one (which draws some uncomfortable parrallels to the holocaust considering we learn that belos wants to commit genocide against the witches)

so that's our villain but at the end of season two a new villain is introduced. a little creepy jester God Baby (heretofore known as GodBaby.) GodBaby wants to play. GodBaby destroys belos in one fell swoop and literally kills all the tension of the season two finally with a twitch of his finger, then GodBaby enslaves the planet as his playthings. Luz and her friends escape to the human world, but find they can't return.

When they DO return to the human world, they literally just explain to GodBaby that you have to ASK if people want to play with you and GodBaby immediately stops being the villain. The villain is now, again, Belos, who has been crawling around as a rather pathetic piles of deer shaped goo. There's your narrative context.

I found this was a huge waste of tension. they destroyed their villain, taking away all his credibility, his power, everything that makes him threatening to introduce this NEW guy, the new guy is convinced to the good side in a four minute conversation, all so you can bring this entirely non-threatening guy back for five seconds. this might have been alright if it didn't take place over the course of two and a half episodes. it wasnt DRAMATIC nor was it SATISFYING.

so that's the villains, now for the protagonists. Willow and Gus, our two side characters of colour, are underfocused on (as they have been throughout the entire show). Hunter, my favourite character, has basically the entire first episode dedicated to his suffering. i guess im biased cause I love that kid, but forty minutes of him getting infected with UncleGoop, slowly becoming paranoid and losing his mind, and then turning into some kinda (POORLY DESIGNED) deer beast, and then trying to KILL HIMSELF and THEN his first friend and beloved pet bird sacrificing itself to save his life..... hoooooooooooo. it was farrrrr too fucking much in my opinion. my man just wanted to cosplay. but i guess that's more of a personal thing.

Luz is in her depression era. she's upset because she thinks that everything is her fault, completely understandable. was i moved by it at all? noooooo.

amityyyyy. exists to be a good girlfriend. and that's OKAY. i'd probably like her way more if they hadn't turned the cunt beam down. she used to be a real bitch and that's when she was at her most interesting TO ME. IMO.

the most egregious thing to me is episode 2. that episode focused HEAVILY on side characters and stories I have no interest in when the stakes were supposed to be at their highest. they give boscha (fucking boscha?) a redemption arc when I was moe worried about hunter killing his uncle and luz freeing all the puppeteered slaves. and why are you INTRODUCING STORYLINES WHEN YOU HAVE LESS THAN SIXTY MINUTES OF SHOW LEFT???? it was very veryyy fucking frustrating.

last episode. i barely rememeber it. luz has he depression healed by the power of becoming a kaiju. hunter can now use magic because he ate his magic bird to survive. i was yawning.

when i talk shit about the owl house its because I was so fucking let down by its conclusion. I understand that the team had less to work with, but so did the crew on Rise, and they made an excellent conclusion to their series. because 2/3 seasons in that show were mid (TO ME!!! IN MYYYY OPINION!!!) i don't value it as much as I value shows like gravity falls or infinity train or rottmnt. if you or anybody reading this liked it, that's okay! live your truth. i did Not fuck with it though.

#she speaks #hater tag #asks #ty for asking i love asks! #long post #cartoonists listen to me TAKE STORY STRUCTURE CLASSES #omg and i just remembered it was like a carbon copy of the amphibia finale which released like three months before it #THAT was crazy

[goshdangronpa]

So, I intend to take a break on "I DISAGREE: An Ibuki Mioda SDR2 Protag Swap AU" after all. I've got a few fanfics that've been simmering on the back burner way too long, and I'll return to this project for Chapter 2 once I finish a few of them. Thanks so much to everyone who's read, liked, reblogged, and even reached out to me about any of these posts!

While I'm here, though ... I might as well, wrap up Chapter 1 with a few stray notes. It's nothing huge, I think - just the kind of stuff I thought about but couldn't find space for as the posts unexpectedly became more story-heavy. Before I move "I DISAGREE" to the backburner, please enjoy this grab bag of tidbits.

Bonus Track: A Few Last Notes on Chapter 1

Where to start. Where to start ...

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu, Team Player

One major appeal to me in writing this AU is shaking up character arcs and dynamics. When I decided that Peko Pekoyama would come down with Despair Disease, I knew I'd have to do something different with Fuyuhiko. His love for Peko (romantic or filial or whatever you want to say) would not let him sit around in a cottage while her health is at serious risk. That's why just one day after stating that he had it in him to kill one of his classmates, he finds himself volunteering to nurse some of them!

Well, his focus in the makeshift hospital quarters of the Hotel Mirai is definitely on a specific patient. Fuyuhiko starts SDR2 as a selfish loner. Even this shake-up didn't seem like enough to make him open up with the rest. Ibuki dragging him into hanging out with her and the others that first night would help. However, it's having Hajime Hinata on his tail that truly turns him into part of the gang. We know how tight the boys get in SDR2, their bond developing over the course of three weeks. With them being in such close quarters from dawn to dusk, and especially with Fuyuhiko already so vulnerable while Peko's out of commission, I imagined it would develop faster.

To be clear, Fuyuhiko doesn't pull a full 180 by the end of Chapter 1! Though I wrote that he and Peko attend Ibuki's cottage party, I think he wouldn't stay for long. He trusts Peko with his life, he's pretty fond of Hajime, and Ibuki and Byakuya are on his good side. The rest remain strangers to him. While he's more open about knowing those strangers now, the stakes of their situation are never far from his mind. Expect him to grapple with questions of trust down the line.

Peko Pekoyama and Despair Disease

Nagito's side effects from Despair Disease, you already know from the game. (The repeat is partly to prevent him from igniting the killing game like in SDR2, and partly for reasons I'll explain in good time.) Chiaki and Kazuichi's side effects, you already saw in great detail with their relevance to the murder and trial. What I didn't describe in much detail are Peko's side effects. All I really said was:

"... She’s too laidback and apathetic to care about anything." (The AU Narrative's Chaotic First Three Mornings)

"Peko’s operating on sheer inertia, refusing to exert herself for anything that doesn’t interest her." (The Killing Game's First Victim)

Two sentences!

So the idea here was that Peko is a deadly serious person who prioritizes duty above all else, including her own well-being and life. I'm not just talking about the whole "I'm a tool, not a person" stuff from her trial. Even when she does fun things like slice up coconuts for new friends, there's still a severity in her manner. She immediately peaces out of a party to sit in an office by herself as a line of defense. No wonder animals fear her - she walks through life with an unflinching tension in her entire being.

That's why I imagined that the opposite of herself would be someone who doesn't do anything, even move from her spot, unless she feels like it. Lazy Peko - a chilling thought! Not exactly Depressed Peko, perhaps, though she wouldn't smile more than usual because that act in itself requires flexing muscles. Apathetic Peko, who takes nothing seriously and abandons all her discipline and duties ... including caring for Fuyuhiko. Which is why he must watch over her.

One more thing: ever notice that Peko is pretty easily embarrassed? She can't keep a poker face when Teruteru nails her choice of undergarment, and she nearly loses her cool when she confesses to bathroom incapacitation during the blackout in Chapter 1. You can just imagine her face crinkling behind that Shining Justice mask (though her performance is so committed!). It's the tragic fate of many a person who takes themself very seriously. Picture a scene where Peko settles into a decidedly unladylike position in her hospital room, with Ibuki exclaiming that Teruteru was dead-on.

Teruteru Hanamura's Still Around

It's funny: when I first decided to write fanfics about SDR2, I really thought I'd never so much as mention Teruteru. He's creepy, he's a pervert, he has no redeeming qualities ... yet I discovered that even he has a place in the Jabberwock Island ecosystem. Three of my four currently published fanfics include him, and one even sees him in a starring antagonist role. What can I say? In all three instances, he fit the bill.

By virtue of my "different killers, different victims" promise, Teruteru couldn't die in Chapter 1 of my AU. Killing off a fan favorite like Chiaki while keeping him around seemed unthinkable, which made it all the more fun to do. But if he's staying for the time being, he'll earn his keep. I just have to give him something interesting to do ... but splitting the party with Chapter 1's motive also means we barely get to know him in that time! What's a writer to do?

I suppose that when I start Chapter 2, I'll have to catch up Ibuki, and us by extension, on what happened in the cottages while she was at the hotel. Rest assured, though, that I have ideas for Teruteru. In his brief time onscreen in SDR2, we do get glimpses of depth to him beyond remarking on girls' panties. I'll try to bring out those depths. I'll also definitely tone down the creepiness, though I should say that making him a total eunuch just wouldn't be true to his character.

Well, that's just about all I can think of for this bonus bit. If there's anything you want to know more about, you can send me an ask, leave a comment, write it as a tag in a reblog, tie a letter to a carrier pigeon, whatever. I'll see if I have an answer for you! Be warned, though, that the answer might just be, "Wait until the next chapter." Until next time, take care and thank you again.

PREV: Ending Chapter 1 with a Sleepover

NEXT: Coming eventually!

#I DISAGREE: An Ibuki Mioda SDR2 Protag Swap AU #danganronpa #super danganronpa 2 #sdr2 #goodbye despair #ibuki mioda #fuyuhiko kuzuryu #peko pekoyama #teruteru hanamura #no first drafts just vibes #I didn't even plan to do this but it seemed fun #might do one for every chapter!

[hotdrinks]

Honestly, at the start of the book I was very invested in Truant and the way Zampanò's work seemed to have a tangible effect on his life. But later on his footnotes mostly devolved into lengthy gratuitously detailed sexcapades, not to mention him having, let's just say, not the greatest views on women. All of this capped off with one of the most baffling, but oddly fitting, ends to his story that left me not knowing how to feel about him.

However, the middle of the book itself, the one that focuses on the fictional cult (as in cult around a movie) surrounding the Navidson Record and, ofcourse, the exploration tapes dwarf any lackluster writing in the footnotes. The Navidson Record has to be one of the most if not the most profound and innovative peice of horror media I have ever encountered. I envy anyone who gets to read it for the first time. It's a huge book, but I wish I had set a stricter time frame for myself when I first read it because it's a visceral experience that can lose its punch if dragged on for over a year.

WAUGH!! Okay anon I hope you're still there. I waited to read this message until I finished the book just to keep my perceptions of everything as uninfluenced as possible.

First of all, the way women are written in HoL is something I definitely struggled with the most. Trying to parse through Watsonian/Doylist interpretations. Sort of wondering for a while if maybe Danielewski just doesn't (or at least didn't at the time) write women very well (still not sure where I stand with this one but Karen's chapter did definitely help me feel a little bit better about it).

And yeah Truant's sexcapades put me off for a minute but once it became clear that they were just his way of trying to bury his grief and what was happening to him they annoyed me less. And while it frustrates me that women are often used as plot devices in this way (without being given their own agency or depth) I do think this part of his story was necessary to his character development and narratively relevant (I was worried for a second that it wasn't lol) and personally it endeared me to him once he moved past it.

I also think his poor view of women is condemned in the text. Or at least it's something he outgrows. Like how he convinced himself he was so in love with "Thumper" without ever knowing her name, and when he finally asked it was too late. He was just looking for something easy to save him, missing out on connections because he was seeing everyone as a life raft and not a full person. The parental trauma of it all. (This is where my thoughts about women in HoL start spiraling fhdjs)

Overall I stayed really liking him the whole time, even though I didn't expect to! I just found him really sympathetic. The pekingese footnote had its intended effect on me I think lol. Also I like a sorta purple style of writing sometimes, so I didn't personally find his footnotes lackluster, but I can understand how they could grate on others. There are just certain lines in those notes that I think I'll remember forever, just because I think they were written so beautifully.

Also!!! "Visceral" is the perfect word to describe the Navidson record!!!! The format making you experience the House alongside everyone is soooo effective. It really does just instill grief in you while you read it, there were parts that made me cry and cry like a little baby boy in my own home. I was like shouting and talking to the characters while I was reading. And the ending was perfectly bittersweet to me. It's so good and so special I'm really happy I read it, I definitely want to read it again eventually.

#drinks talk tag #ask #anon #long post #i didnt really do any decoding or red stringing while reading the first time bc im never really drawn to that sort of thing #so for my next time through I think i would like to try reading it like that #thanks anon I would love to talk more about it if ur comfortable pming me! #or if u would rather stay on anon I would love to hear ur thoughts if u feel like givin them!

[rookie-critic]

Clerks III (2022, dir. Kevin Smith) - review by Rookie-Critic

Clerks III (dir. Kevin Smith) ends the saga of Dante and Randall in about the most Kevin-Smithiest way possible. After having a heart attack, Randall decides that he's never done anything meaningful with his life and wants to change that by making a movie about his life, which ends up being exactly what it sounds like: they set out to make Clerks. Now, it's not called Clerks in-universe, but you get the idea. The film is packed full of in-jokes and meta-humor and that particular Kevin-Smith brand of camp that works at times and really doesn't work at others. I'll break my feelings about the film down into 3 parts that just happen to coincide with the acts of the film.

Act 1 of the film, leading up to the filming of the movie-within-the-movie and maybe a few scenes after that, is insanely funny. Jay & Silent Bob just absolutely run away with every scene they're in. Jason Mewes and Kevin Smith have had 28 years to really perfect these characters, and perfect them they have. Their comedic chemistry is electric, their comedic timing is uncannily perfect, and their comedic presence in the film is absolute. Cameos from the likes of Amy Sedaris, Ben Affleck, Fred Armisen, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Freddie Prinze, Jr. and more work well and the meta-humor really gives fans of the franchise everything they could ever ask for out of a film like this. People can say what they want about Kevin Smith's narrative writing or even certain aspects of his comedic writing, but the guy knows how to be funny. Even his worst movies (remember that I have unfortunately seen Yoga Hosers) have good comedic moments and Clerks III is no exception.

Act 2, the middle of the film, is, well, middling (I'll talk about my qualms with the film as a whole here as well). I felt like the middle third of the film dragged significantly compared to both the beginning and the end (which we'll get into in a minute). The meta scenes are still there, and the nostalgic punch they pack doesn't lose its potency, but I feel like the film didn't need a lot of the fluff that it had. I didn't necessarily need a reference to every single bit from the first film (although I did appreciate the love given to Clerks II, despite that not being as well accepted by the populace). I could have used a couple more scenes that built up the story of this film and the 15 year gap that exists in-universe between this and Clerks II. I guess my point with this particular tangent is that this film's runtime is 1 hour and 55 minutes and I feel like it could have been an even 90-95 minutes and been better for it. Another thing that kind of bugged me, and I get why they did it this way, it's just a little frustrating, is that in one scene Dante and Randall are reminiscing about their time as clerks at the Quick Stop, and literally everything they mention is something that happened in the original film. Again, I get why they did it that way, but the entirety of the first Clerks film takes place over the course of one day. If Randall is making a film about his life, wouldn't it need to include more than just the events of one day in 1994 when a litany of strange things happened? Also, speaking of Dante and Randall, this movie really required Brian O'Halloran and Jason Anderson to push the limits of their acting abilities, and as much as I love him and the character of Dante, I personally don't think O'Halloran was able to rise to this particular occasion. I also wasn't a huge fan of the Elias character in this film. I feel like his weird awkward acting in Clerks II worked for that film's overall feel, but not really for this one. With that, let's move on to the final act.

Act 3, which I'll be narratively vague about so as to avoid spoilers, is the saving grace of the film. The end of this movie hits you hard with that Kevin Smith sentimentality that I mentioned in my Clerks II review, and goddammit it works on me. A lot of the emotional weight of the last act of the film gets placed on Jason Anderson's shoulders, and where I feel like Brian O'Halloran's performance was lackluster, I feel like Anderson's performance soars. His monologue in one of the film's final scenes is genuinely very emotional, and encapsulates exactly what I love about Kevin Smith's movies (at least the one's I've watched so far). This is a man who genuinely, whole-heartedly, and undyingly loves what he does, loves his body of work, and loves the characters that exist within that work. Seeing Marilyn Ghigliotti back as Veronica, seeing all of the bit players from that original film come back to reprise their roles for the "filmed" bits of Randall's movie, watching the film open on a scene of the duo playing hockey on the roof (with another great cameo from the Comic Book Men crew) while the entirety of "Welcome to the Black Parade" by My Chemical Romance blasted out of the theater speakers over the scene, it all just makes you feel so warm inside. Kevin Smith pours his entire being into these movies and you can tell; it pours out of every frame and, as I mentioned in my review of the second film, it is fucking infectious. Did I cry at the end of the film? Maybe a little. I for sure got choked up, and I can tell that, had I been a lifelong fan of the franchise as I could tell everyone else in the theater with me was, I would have been on the floor sobbing by the time the credits started to roll. So, is the acting good? Largely no, save for a couple of the big players. Do the jokes work? About half of the time, sure. The movie largely is just ok by all accounts, but dammit, I just can't dislike it. I can't bring myself to. I can't even bring myself to down to ok. With all of its many faults, I still unabashedly like Clerks III. Kevin Smith has my support to the end of the line.

Score: 7/10

Currently available to rent or purchase on digital (iTunes, Amazon, Vudu, etc.) and on DVD, Blu-ray, and 4K through Lionsgate Films.

#Clerks III #Clerks #Kevin Smith #Brian O'Halloran #Jeff Anderson #Trevor Fehrman #Jason Mewes #Marilyn Ghigliotti #Rosario Dawson #film review #movie review #2022 films

[shihalyfie]

If I were to fiddle with some of Tri's writing, it'd be for Meicoomon to learn to not be so clingy to Meiko and to expand her friend circle (Admittedly, I'm like this with any character whose trait is "I only exist for this one character" and might even act hostile to other social connections. I'm like "Wow, that's unhealthy, please expand your social circle.")

I was a little personally conflicted on whether I should respond privately as usual or whether I should post this one publicly this time, because while I try to keep things related to series writing criticism to a minimum (I've said a lot that this is meant to be an analysis blog and not a criticism blog, and for the most part I would like to believe I've done a decent job keeping that kind of thing only to private messaging -- I think the only exception is that I tend to be a bit harsh on the American English dub, but I've generally tried to refrain from being too harsh on the base series content), this particular issue is one I really feel I need to be vocal about at some point. I'm fairly sure it wasn't intended to be this way, but accidentally or otherwise, tri. ends up glorifying a lot of relationships or interactions that come off to me as alarmingly toxic, and while I've tried to detach myself from it understanding that this probably wasn't intended, it's a big reason I have a very difficult time watching or rewatching the series.

The platitudes of what we're told the relationships are don't actually match up with what's portrayed on screen. We're told everyone is the best of friends, but everyone seems to constantly cycle between unequivocally adoring each other to having screaming matches and insulting each other the moment they disagree (instead of talking it out to any reasonable degree). Mimi's "budding friendship" with Meiko ends on a note of Mimi violating Meiko's boundaries and dragging her in against her will (but it's okay because it's fun). Koushirou is constantly mocked by the narrative and Jou by the others in the group, despite Adventure and 02 being huge on treating both with proper respect for their unique contributions. Takeru apparently trusts his friends so little that he'd rather confess his problems to the girl he barely just met who is least equipped to handle his problems. We're told that partnerships are supposed to be special and intimate the way they were portrayed in Adventure and 02, but said partners are treated like objects of mockery (by both the narrative and the characters) and rarely able to do anything for their human partners emotionally. This is especially in the case of Meicoomon, who's glorified by the narrative as kind and important to Meiko, but one of her only major scenes in the story involves her gaslighting Meiko to her face (constantly running off on Meiko but accusing her of abandoning her, when in fact Meiko kept getting in trouble in the first three movies because she wouldn't stop chasing after her -- this is basically a template for an abusive relationship). Then everyone kills Meiko's partner, moves on abruptly with an obvious tone of "ha ha what a funny thing that happened," and in the end I just felt Meiko and Meicoomon were actually the worst victims of the narrative because they were subjected to six movies of having some really asshole friends who tossed them aside so easily without much in the way of emotional outreach.

The reason I'm deciding to be public about this post in particular is that I am, honestly, seriously concerned about the fact that the series is built off of promoting toxic positivity. If your friend is having a serious mental breakdown, showering them with platitudes like "it's okay because we're friends!" and "stop being so negative!" is very low on the list of things you should do to help them, because it's still dismissing their problems, shaming them for feeling negative, and doing nothing to actually get to the root of it. Of course, there is a certain extent where I understand that fictional depictions of relationships are not always accurate to real life (even as unusually realistic as Adventure and 02 were about this, they still had to do some oversimplification here and there), but in this case the entire series is written on the kind of "friendship" that actually leads to a lot of mutually abusive relationships and toxic friendships in real life. I think there are definitely other people who had much higher tolerance for seeing it in the series than me, and if so I'm glad you're still able to enjoy it, but because I sometimes worry people are going to take the "lessons" taught here to heart, I do ask that people seriously keep in mind that, in real life, a lot of the things the series glorifies are actually red flags.

#ask-anguirus #tri negativity

[luna-tiel]

Communication

As an autistic fan, I was not pleased by how Entrapta was treated by her fellow princesses, the people that are supposed to be her friends. It’s been on my mind lately, especially after my recent rewatch of season 5. In my opinion, Entrapta’s dynamic with the Alliance was a golden opportunity for the writers to demonstrate healthy communication. I’ll be focusing on the episode Launch, delving into why I feel like that particular episode models unhealthy group dynamics.

This may be a bit of a ramble, but I’ll do my best!

Relationships are a system. While it may be tempting to single out a person as the problem that needs fixing, in most cases the behavior of all members plays a part in how it functions. Entrapta’s isolation from the princesses is a self-fulfilling cycle. She is enlisted for a project, her excitement annoys the others, confirming their expectation that Entrapta only cares about the project, thus they distance themselves from her, or get angry, and Entrapta’s attempt to connect with them via her work fails, confirming her belief she’s not suited for friendship. 

Let’s look at Entrapta from the eyes of the Alliance. To them (and certain members of the audience, it seems), Entrapta lacks empathy. This is a common misunderstanding concerning people with autism. Autistic individuals are often very empathetic, but because they may have trouble reading and understanding social cues and connecting with the emotions of other people, this lack of connection reads as a lack of empathy. 

One of Entrapta’s clearest moments of compassion is when Hordak faints in front of her. She may not be the best at reading people, but when Hordak collapses, it’s clear he needs help, and Entrapta doesn’t hesitate to rush to his side and do anything she can think of to take care of him. When she knows someone is hurt, when she knows they need her support, she offers it immediately.

Mermista, Perfuma, Glimmer and the rest haven’t seen Entrapta’s capacity for empathy the way the audience has. In their eyes, Entrapta does only care about tech. Entrapta left the Alliance, built robots for the Horde, and made armor for Hordak that made him a force to be reckoned with in battle. The princesses have a right to be upset about that. They may not see any reason to believe Entrapta cares about their safety. Fine. Once Entrapta is back with the Alliance at the start of season 5, the princesses are given the opportunity to own their feelings and talk it out. Tell Entrapta how her actions made them feel. Express their hurt, their doubts, and their fears. Give Entrapta the opportunity to respond. 

Instead of doing this, the princesses distract her so they can talk about her behind her back, and Scorpia has to beg Mermista to give Entrapta a chance before they reluctantly allow her to aid the mission to track Prime’s signal. Despite their anger and resentment, and mistrusting Entrapta to the point of believing she might betray them as soon as she gets close to the spire, no one says anything to Entrapta directly. 

Mermista expects Entrapta to disregard the group’s safety in the pursuit of her special interest. She doesn’t trust Entrapta to help the group unless Entrapta is bribed with the prospect of going to space, and talks down to her repeatedly throughout the episode. Perfuma is anxious that Entrapta will lose focus and wander off, and thus leashes her to try and maintain control over the situation. 

The narrative frames these as natural reactions. In their minds, why should they trust Entrapta? She’s so spacy she doesn’t even remember who Glimmer is. However, examining the language the princesses use when talking to Entrapta, they are not trying to reason with her -- they have zero patience from the start. Only after Mermista and the others blow up at Entrapta when the mission goes wrong, and she proves she cares about them by continuing to help anyway, does their opinion of her start to change.

The onus is put on Entrapta to prove she cares about her friends, when it should be a joint responsibility. Healthy friendships are built on foundations of mutual trust and communication. Just one of the princesses could have tried to talk to Entrapta in a clear direct manner that wasn’t emotionally charged or condescending. Instead of judging and accusing her, they could have taken responsibility for their own feelings, and expressed their hurt in a more effective way. 

Had the team talked it out, had they made an attempt to trust Entrapta instead of seeing her as an accessory to drag along (when she is the key piece in the mission), things could have gone more smoothly. Entrapta didn’t need to be controlled, she needed to be the one in control. The evidence? Once Mermista realizes Entrapta is trustworthy -- that she does care about them, and about Glimmer -- Mermista shifts the entire plan. The team then rallies behind Entrapta to cover her as she leads them forward.

This should have been a lesson to the Alliance. They made assumptions about Entrapta, and they were incorrect. All it would have taken was a small moment of apology or a real attempt to understand what went wrong. They’ve all made their mistakes, but now they can move forward and try to do better. Instead, it’s framed as if Entrapta needed to prove she truly cares about everyone, which is just… disheartening, to say the least.

Entrapta expects to be misunderstood and rejected by her peers (leading her to nearly losing her life on Beast Island), but she tries to help them anyway, in the only way she knows how. It’s not too much to ask the princesses to meet her in the middle.

I am grateful Entrapta didn’t have to sacrifice her identity and “become normal” to be accepted by the Alliance. However, I dearly wish she could have developed a more balanced healthy friendship with her fellow princesses. 

Entrapta never had deep ties to the Alliance in the first place. That was the main reason she stayed with the Horde. I wish at some point they realized how much Entrapta was welcomed and accepted there. The enemy -- the Evil Horde -- provided Entrapta with more support than they ever did. That kind of realization should be huge!

A missed opportunity.

#entrapta #she ra season 5 #autistic entrapta #actually autistic #communication issues #it's not too much to hope for healthy friendships #I hope I didn't ramble too badly

[lioncunt]

any way the wind blows review!!!

gonna put it under a cut but tl;dr i really really loved it and even the things that i was on the fence about i’ve decided i love as well lmfao

so i kind of knew going into both this and wayward son that the plot wouldn’t really EVER be as narratively satisfying as carry on’s. it would definitely be interesting and have a lot of cool thematic elements, but in terms of being a grand deconstruction of the “chosen one” genre, it couldn’t ever get better than carry on. and i’m so happy rainbow didn’t try to MAKE it that. she didn’t pull a supernatural and up the stakes to impossible, outlandish degrees. both wayward son and awtwb had realistic, fascinating plots that served as a metaphor for the internal struggles of the characters.

the reason i’m beginning this review by talking about the plot is because it’s what i’ve seen the most criticism directed towards. and like i DO get it, i also was taken aback at first at how the actual plot is kind of background noise for the first couple hundred pages. but like...i think it WORKS. again, this whole trilogy is a deconstruction. that’s its PURPOSE. obviously it’s doing other things as well, but it started by taking this well-worn and well-loved trope and completely turning it on its head, giving us permission to acknowledge all the damage it causes and how our love of this type of story is honestly kind of harmful. we turn off that part of our brains when we read harry potter or something else with traumatized child protagonists, in order for us to actually enjoy it, but the simon snow trilogy has always said, “hey, this is kind of fucked up, huh? you’re allowed to think that.”

anyway, the way that translates to the plot here is that there’s not always some huge mystical big bad, or obviously evil antagonist. the horror can be going on in the world around you, in the background of your day-to-day life dealing with your own shit, creeping up on you until suddenly your loved ones are spouting off nonsense that is an absolutely CHILLING allegory for eugenics, by the way, which i’ve seen NOBODY talk about. the clear political parallels were so well done, but not heavy-handed, and they worked wonderfully as an ending to this story. simon at the end being a target for an angry mob, who are victims of intense ableism themselves (the metaphor of being a weak mage = having a disability), how these religious extremists will point at what they deem abnormal and use them as a scapegoat, the disgusting “survival of the fittest” mentality leading to “i can make this society great again” - it was all just incredibly well written, in my opinion. and the fact that it happened so slowly, in the background, made it all the better. you don’t really notice how bad it’s getting until it’s BAD.

it also, again, works so well as a manifestation of the characters’ inner strife. others have put it better than me already, so i won’t talk about it too much, but the fact that the book is saying you don’t need to be like everyone else in order to accomplish great things and have a good life, you don't need to have magic, you don’t need to be human, you don’t need to be neurotypical or able-bodied or straight or white or ANYTHING these people will have you believe in order to make you obedient to them and hateful to others -- it’s fantastic. 

this kind of segues into the other big criticism i’m seeing, which is simon and baz’s one-day breakup. again, this has already been analyzed well, so i won't ramble about it, but wayward son was their breakup. metaphorically speaking. and i’m glad that it didn’t take some big, grand moment for them to get back together, even though it would have been narratively cathartic. that’s not how life works - it was so much better and realistic to have simon face the harsh difficulties of TRYING than dragging out a separation plot line that would have added NOTHING to his character. or baz’s. the only thing about their entire relationship that i would have done a bit differently is shorten the timeline, because a year and a half is a very long and honestly unrealistic time to go in a relationship without talking about sexual history or going on dates, even if there’s a lot of baggage. but that’s not that big a deal and i’m easily able to look past it.

(as a side note I'm getting annoyed at seeing all these takes that there’s too much sexual content. like i get it because the first two books are solidly YA and this is being marketed as YA even though it’s definitely NA, but like....sex is important. sex scenes and sexual content are an extremely important part of depicting the human experience. and lack of sex as well!! every single intimate scene between them was NOT super graphic and had such incredibly important significance narratively and character-wise - and yeah that includes any kinks that were brought up, like jesus they’re in their 20s and have been in a non-sexual relationship for a year and a half i think it’s pretty fucking relevant that there are intimate scenes!!! anyway moving on.)

i really loved penny and shepard’s plot - their relationship was so wonderful and charming and excellent for their characters, and i only wish we could have gotten their demon plot threaded into the larger picture, because after shepard was cured it felt like they were just standing there. that’s one of my very few complaints about the book. but they’re such good characters and i love them SO MUCH.

AND THANK GOD FOR AGATHA AND NIAMH. like i cannot put into words how fucking happy i was when i realized where that was headed. the cinematic nature of agatha and niamh helping the goat give birth while simon’s flying in the chapel and being targeted by a mob was just. so cool like i can’t even describe it it was so coooooool and then agatha and niamh KISSING and agatha found her PLACE and I'm so happy for her.

just in general the characters and relationships were fucking exquisite. i can’t help but love the way RR writes, especially her dialogue. it’s so real and three dimensional and her characters truly come alive and i care about them and love them so much. i’m so happy they’re happy, i wouldn’t have been able to stand it if they weren’t.

and everything got wrapped up so well in my opinion!! i don’t know what the hell people are talking about when they say they still have questions, like girl what about??? simon found his family, simon got a sword that isn’t tied to trauma, baz found out that he’ll get to grow old with simon, all their families are okay, penny and shepard are in love, agatha’s herding goats and a lesbian, there will probably be new threats and antagonists but they'll be able to handle them, life will continue to be difficult but they’ll get through it like WHAT do you not understand what’s not clicking i genuinely want to know. 

ok actually i have ONE single question and that’s. did baz pick up the sword at the end. because the way it’s written it sounds like he did and i like do not understand that at all. someone answer please.

anyway that’s my review 10/10 would recommend

#any way the wind blows #awtwb spoilers #simon snow #snowbaz #carry on

[lurking96]

What is your opinion about the Bakugou vs Uraraka fight in the sports festival. I really don't understand the praise this fight gets. This seems to be the fight where narrative shifts when it comes to Bakugou's character and literally feels shoehorned by the author to make Bakugou be painted as a feminist and a missunderstood characrter and hype him so much and to me it feels like it is downplaying Uraraka's merits and her resolve and making the fight all about Bakugou. I also feel the way Bakugou's respects for Uraraka is hyped by the author in the Ultra books/archives to me seems to downplay the level of respect Izuku had for her before the fight/during the fight/even after the fight. imo Izuku's respect for Uraraka as a fighter and as a person is way bigger than what Bakugou has for her.

Bakugou tells Uraraka to quit , Considering Bakugou's stats like being good in close combat, good reflex and good reaction and great in air mobility, he had many options to easily win the fight. We even see that in his fight with Izuku where he uses his explosions to move in the air easily. Yet here all he did was just stand there, went overboard with his explosions on her and was dragging the fight to hurt and destroy her instead of using the options to simply win like using his combat skills to push or thow her out of the ring.

When Pros question hiss way of fighting , Aizawa berates the pros and declares that Bakugou saw her strength and is keeping her at bay. the way the fight potrayed and Aizawa's declaration doesn't make any sense. We don't even see any inner thoughts or monologue from Bakugou about this to prove that. I feel the pros were in the right to question the way Bakugou fought. Uraraka comes up with a good plan on her own and Bakugou uses a huge explosion out of nowhere and comes out unscathed and finally decides to move his butt to attack her. Also notice here he says "time to get serious" meaning he never was serious all this time and he never saw her strength which again contradicts Aizawa's declaration.

Even after the fight he asks izuku if ihe gave her the plan which again is disrespect towards Uraraka. Its only after his ted talk with Izuku he comes to know that It was Uraraka's own strategy. And then the whole "what part of her was frail" comment doesn't seem that much convincing to me.

Uraraka VS. Bakugou. In my opinion it was very shoehorned in. We got some fake feminist reading of Bakugou out of it which is just not true. I think the fight shows something else than might have been. More under the cut as i ranted a bit.

We are very much aware that before UA Izuku didnt have any friend. Your bully is not your “Friend”. He was not popular and people weren’t around him. Bakugou also kinda acts like he owns Izuku. He can’t fathom a world where the nerd isn’t under his thumb. Part of Abuse is to isolate their victim. Call them crazy towards others. Cut them off from former friends and family. While Izukus quirklessness has stopped him from getting friends Bakugou might also have acted towards it. Might have beaten up people that got close to him or gave them warnings. It paints the fight in a different light. Uraraka was the first friend he got. Bakugou saw this and he probably did not want this. He could have beaten her quicker. But he wanted to set an example. Midoriya was watching from the first row. He couldnt stop the fight. It was a beatdown to show what happens if he befriends people. It also did not help that Bakugou saw Uraraka as an Izuku proxy. He did believe after all that the plan she used was all Izukus doing. To him he had also a free chance to beat Izuku up with this fight. This fight and how Aizawa talks is again an example of Horis “Tell don’t show”. We are told differently to what we see happens. Aizawa gets used as this logical, rational teacher which words must be true. The Pro heroes that complain are us the audience. Basically the scene saying. “Bakugou is doing great. Don’t insult him.” It makes things feel empty however. They lack substance. If we hear other characters tell how much bakugou changed but in the scenes he is still acts his old self. It just makes what they tell us be lies. It is not good writing. A waste of panels really. Around the sports festival we see the narrative shift. Bakugou gets more prominent. Gets less painted as bad by the narrative. Even though he does say and act pretty much similar to before. But characters start to pull excuses for him out of thin air. Back to the fight. Bakugou basically pulls out a bigger explosion without his support gear and just destroys Urarakas thought out plan. She used her smarts while bakugou just used a bigger explosion out of nothing. Here is the thing. We can debate long on how she would have won or that even if her plan worked she wouldnt have won. If hori wanted her to win he could have written it without much plothole. But here is the thing. She should have won and it should have been made clear that she did it by herself. This would have actually started character developement. Bakugou would have lost to someone he doesn’t see as a threat. Loose to someone without a more fighting type quirk than his.Basically a dark horse type victory. He might have slowly started to realise that he is not the best. That just because someone has a non fight quirk doesnt make them weak. Him getting booed by the audience might add to it too. People seeing him as villain. The whole kidnapping later on might work into it. Might make him look at why people believe him to be one. He might still have been a main target. Might have thrown a big tantrum after the fight that still makes the LOV notice him. Overall it might have been a start to develope him into a better character unlike the lip service of character change we got now.

#anti bakugou #anti bakudeku

[bellmel]

Reading you, before the fall

An angsty contribution to @clarensjoy’s Hinny Ficfest 2021 (A huge thank you, by the way - seeing my feed flooded by new Hinny fics today has been truly amazing. I’m so glad you arranged this!)

Prompt #40 - “I love you.” “Why do you look like you’re confessing a sin?” “I might as well be.”

AO3

---

There were several things Ginny Weasley could do with her eyes closed. She could cruise along on her broom, guided by nothing more than instinct and her finely-tuned spatial awareness. She could navigate the staircase of the Burrow in absolute darkness. She could tell which of her brothers was walking up behind her just by the distinctive thud and pace of their footsteps. 

And with her eyes closed, she could read Harry Potter. 

Harry had always been a fairly easy study. He had never been particularly good at hiding his emotions – his temper and brazen manner left little room for uncertainty. But in these past three weeks that they had shared together, Ginny had learnt to look beyond what was plainly visible, turning her attention instead to the subtlest of his quirks and mannerisms. And when she was pressed up against him with her eyes closed, her other senses truly awoke, picking up on the unspoken and the unseen. 

The sound of his voice, steady with confidence, or stilted and hushed with an almost vulnerable uncertainty, betrayed more about him in those moments than his words ever could. The way his breath hitched just so each time she leant into his lips, as if he could never tire of kissing her. The way he sighed when their fevered kissing would ease and Ginny would tip her head, resting her forehead on his chest – it was a soft and shaky sound, a sigh born from an odd blend of contentment and something like trepidation. They were sounds that she felt as much as heard, each one filling her like a warm rush of blood that pulsed through her body, settling and expanding in her chest. 

But while the sound of him was like a well-studied soundtrack, it was her hands and fingers that had learnt to read Harry Potter with expert certainty. She could read his mood and anxieties according to the tension in his muscles and the stiffness of his limbs, the way his body responded to her touch, and the fluidity of his movements against hers. 

She would trail her fingers over his arm, his torso, his cheeks. Dancing a familiar path across his body, her feather-light touch would skim over his skin with the practiced confidence of a blind person reading braille, the twitch of his muscles and his goosebumps telling her a story of grief, longing, regret and fear. 

And like many a narrative of love and loss, her reading of Harry had been hinting at a turning point in the days since Dumbledore’s death. The signs, albeit subtle, were all there. They left a trail of crumbs that she couldn’t bring herself to follow.

It put her even more on edge, nervous anticipation having settled heavily in her stomach. She had no way of knowing if it was the next scene, the next page, the next chapter when the twist that they were so clearly moving towards would drop. And in a way, she figured it didn’t matter. What was to come had already been written, and nothing she did now would change it. She didn’t believe it was fate, more an inevitability.

But Ginny’s mind was firmly focused elsewhere on this early morning in June. Harry’s hands had that ability, an unconscious way of commanding her attention. Even the stones of the tall castle wall jutting into her back were just a distant annoyance, drowned out by the feel of Harry leaning into her, his hands gripping her hips and waist.

He was quiet this morning. Both of them had woken early, sleep proving somewhat elusive these days. They were the first ones in the common room, but they hadn’t lingered long, instead escaping out onto the castle grounds before the other students were due to start trickling into the Great Hall for breakfast.

Outside, the grounds were sleepy and calm, the early rising sun having done little to budge the thick fog that had settled over the lake. It was fitting in a way, the grounds of Hogwarts as unclear as everything else inside the castle.

With little interest in talking, Harry had led Ginny to a partially hidden alcove around the side of the castle, and immediately started kissing her. It was frenzied to begin with, Harry clearly chasing a distraction through her, but she didn’t care. They stayed there, engrossed in each other, until Harry’s lips and body became less frantic, and his kisses and touch eased to a slow and tender pace.

After several minutes, Ginny pulled away just enough to catch her breath. “Harry,” she exhaled. It was still and quiet all around them, and Harry’s heavy breaths next to her ear filled the void.

From inside came the first distant sounds of students moving about in the castle, muffled laughter and shouts as they made their way down the staircase to the Great Hall.

Harry looked down at Ginny, realisation etched on his face as if he had only just remembered where they were. “Oh, do you-” he started, straightening up. “Sorry. You probably want to go get some breakfast.”

Ginny shook her head. “No. I’m not really hungry.” She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him. “Besides, I’d rather stay here with you.”

She expected him to protest and insist she go in and eat before their classes begin. But he simply nodded in agreement, and bent down to kiss the top of her head.

She wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down further to place a kiss on his nose, his lips, and his stubbly chin. He responded by cupping her face in his hands, his thumb caressing her cheek.

“Ginny,” he sighed. With eyes shut tight, he pressed his forehead to hers and let out a long shaky breath. And then, in a moment that would reverberate through both her dreams and her nightmares, came those words. “I love you, Ginny.”

It was softer than a whisper, an utterance that could be felt more than heard.

She had heard those words her whole life, sometimes said as a reassurance or as a farewell, or through the gritted teeth of a chastised sibling. But never before had she heard those words said like this. It wasn’t a declaration or a promise, it was something else entirely.

Ginny looked up at him, at his creased brow and pursed lips, and her breath caught in her throat. His face was streaked with pain and remorse.

Her voice quivered, the hint of a nervous laugh. “Why do you look like you’re confessing a sin?” she asked, silently willing him to prove her wrong.

Instead, he opened his eyes and looked regretfully into hers. “I might as well be.”

And it was this exact moment that Ginny realised the suspicion she had been pushing against so desperately these past few days was no longer simply a suspicion. Harry’s admission told her everything she needed to know.

The regret she saw in his eyes wasn’t for his words, but for all that they meant.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the knowledge from her mind, desperately trying to tamper the howling agony that was ringing in her ears. Placing her palms flat against his chest, she braced herself and exhaled slowly, forcing her heart rate to ease, attempting to take her time over every detail. Hoping against all reason that she could slow things down, delay the ending, just for a little longer.

And with the clarity of hindsight, she realised he had been doing the same. Ever since his mentor had died, Harry had been trapped in a restless cycle of indecision. He would tense under her touch, only to relent a moment later and melt into her. He was pulling away from her at the same time as he clung to her, like a drowning man grasping at the one thing that could keep him afloat.

Leaning back to look up at him, she ran her hands up his arms, her fingers skating over his shoulders, his collarbone, and coming to rest on his chest. His eyes remained fixed on hers, as if he too was trying to etch this moment into his memory, before his arms tightened around her, and he dragged her in closer. Ginny leant into it, allowing Harry to keep her braced. She should have felt nothing but safe, comfortable and certain, being here with him. But all she felt was the shudder and tremble of his still-grieving body wrapped around hers, and there was no comfort to be found in that.

Her heart ached for him. For the boy who had far too little choice afforded to him, and far too much expectation placed on him. For the boy who had experienced so much already, but wasn’t yet done. For the boy who seemed to have finally found happiness, and was now trying to find the resolve to turn his back on it. Because yet again, it was up to Harry to do what was necessary.

You do it, a voice whispered in her head. You can break it off. Her eyes shot open, mind whirling with realisation. This was the one thing she could do for him, the one responsibility she could lift from his overburdened shoulders and carry herself.

She looked up at him. His head was bent forward, eyes fixed to where her small hands were pressed against his chest. And Ginny knew she couldn’t. She would never be the one to walk away.

She couldn’t look him in the eye, a boy who had known so much rejection and such little love in his life, and tell him it was over. Even if she knew it was the right thing to do.

Even if she knew what the alternative would mean for Harry.

Because while Harry was the protagonist of his story, turning his back on Ginny would make him feel like the villain. For as noble as he was, as selfless and kind as he was, he was still a boy who was terrified of letting anyone down.

If she was honest with herself though, she would have to admit that her reluctance was driven in part by a tiny but insistent piece of her that wondered if maybe she had read this wrong. That feared acting on something that perhaps wasn’t inevitable. Even though the rational part of her knew better.

Coward, the voice in her head reproached. And she agreed.

Taking a deep breath, she drew up her shoulders and steadied her resolve. If she couldn’t be the one to ring the death knell on their relationship, she could stand aside and let him do it. She would watch him walk away from her, and she wouldn’t try to stop him.

But until then, she would be here with him, savouring him.

With steady hands, Ginny pulled Harry down towards her and captured his lips with hers. She wanted him to know that she understood. That she didn’t blame him. That she didn’t regret him.

But she had no words. She didn’t even know if the right words existed. Instead, she poured it into her kiss and her touch. Let her lips, her tongue, her mouth say the things her voice couldn’t. I’m sorry, her kiss said. I forgive you.  

I love you.

[esther-dot]

If Martin can finish his story in 2 books is something I have though about too. We drag d&d for rushing the last seasons & reducing number of episodes. But they still had 3 seasons after s5. GOT had also removed minor characters by merging storylines. I do think many major plot points will be same in next books. So I am not sure how he will manage to do all that without adding one more book. Unless he follows d&d, who moved characters across Westeros in one episode, it seems impossible to me lol

(in reference to this ask)

I agree. In some things, the fandom conflates valid criticism of D&D with unreasonable expectations. Martin said that he was writing an unadaptable story. He purposed to do that. The man worked in TV, we have to believe he knew what he was doing with all the locations and characters. He knew a truly faithful adaption couldn't happen, and he consistently said GoT was a faithful adaptation, so I think what D&D and HBO gave him was beyond what he had expected. They fucked it up in the end because nothing made sense, but deleting characters and redistributing stuff...that's standard when adapting a work. People do this for much more straightforward books. Of course they had to streamline something as massive as ASOIAF. It’s on D&D that they failed to make sense of the main characters/the ending as a whole even though they took these measures to get there, but a lot of people hate on GoT for things that Martin has since confirmed (Stannis burning Shireen, King Bran) or will 100% happen in the books (Dark Dany, Sansa in the North, Arya sailing away…). It’s not D&D’s fault a lot of us hate certain developments. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Also, Martin doesn't have to worry about budget, the ability of his actors to deliver certain things, viewership, getting renewed, etc etc all those things showrunners have to deal with. And then, instead of the books ever reaching a point where things are simplified, he keeps adding more characters, and they each have their own cadre which just takes what is already beyond the scope of a show to new levels of un-doable. And, I need to point out that he is so good at writing these additional characters, the fandom, people who are obsessed with these books and have been for years and years, don’t even know who is a main character and who's been introduced for a narrative purpose in someone else's arc anymore. We’re still routinely told Sansa doesn’t matter, that she isn’t part of the big five, so some of the criticism D&D get is more a reflection of the fandom’s misinterpretation of things than a failure on their part.

I also think that Martin’s belief that he would stay ahead of D&D was a problem. If he hadn’t thought that, hopefully he would have been more direct and told them exactly who matters and why, the entirety of their arcs from the get go which I think could have reigned in D&D’s worst instincts if they’d been schooled on it all from the beginning. The fandom thought this story was about the rise of House Targaryen, and since it looks like D&D knew Dany was bad news from s1, in some ways, they understood the story better than a huge chunk of us (scary thought). But I don’t think they had it impressed upon them that this was actually about the rise of House Stark or why Bran would be king until they’d gone too far down a certain path. Seeing as none of us can really answer the how or why of King Bran, it’s unreasonable to expect them to understand the importance of things the writer hasn’t written yet. I’m very curious what Martin told them in their conversations because I had the feeling they were trying to get his story out but found it impossible to do so due to their limitations/the direction they had taken and that’s why the ending is tacked on. Anyway, I agree with you that we can bitch about D&D, but there’s a lot of ground to cover to reach an end point that leaves a chunk of the book fandom scratching their heads and some of us in denial. They should have done more to get there in a reasonable way, but how was always going to be messy because right now, with what we have, it’s inexplicable. 

Recently I wondered if the biggest mistake was Martin not explaining why the precanon stuff matters. As in, the pre canon stuff establishes that it is the Martells who need justice against the Lannisters and the Starks who have bad blood with the Targs. The show really focused on the Stark v Lannister idea so as a show watcher, I found that resolution entirely unsatisfactory. And, a lot of show fans didn't understand the horror of a Targ with dragons arriving in Westeros, the history of wrongs that the Starks have with them, so they thought Sansa was at fault for having an issue with Targs and they didn't understand the position Jon was in when he found out he was a Targ. His grandfather murdered his grandfather. His grandfather nearly nearly ended the Starks. Jon being the one to end the Targs...it’s a nice response to that precanon stuff/Ned’s torment over his decision to hide the Targ baby. Knowing the facts about characters doesn't mean you understand why it matters, how it works in the story, and if the point of this pre canon stuff wasn't impressed on D&D, it doesn't feel like a problem to delete Aegon and Arianne, to rewrite Dorne, because they don't understand why they're being written into the story in the first place. They guessed R+L=J, but clearly didn’t understand why it mattered.

As for Martin managing to bring it home in two books, I follow people who believe that Dany will never go North, and if that’s the case, the zipping across the country will be far less. She will finally get to Westeros, remain in the South, and Jon will go South for Dance of Dragons 2.0. No back and forth. So, the traveling around really may not be the big problem. There is a lot that needs to happen though, and I’m not sure what all will happen when. The Starks have to retake the North, and I’m not sure that they’ll defeat the Others in Winds. But if we push that to ADOS, that becomes a very busy book. 👀 And after that (or possibly concurrently?) we have Dance of Dragons 2.0, and the political situation to resolve. Bran will have to end up South for a kingsmoot, right? As people die off Martin will be eliminating POVs which feels like it should be helpful, and going from Winterfell to KL is something they happened in the first book, but Martin has so many more characters/POVs/storylines now… If the show was accurate in the Dany & co going North idea and then everyone going South (which I entertain), that is a whole heck of a lot to fit into one book. 😬 You’re right. Looking at the endpoint and where we are, it’s a Herculean task to bring it home.

#ask dot

[youllallriseintheink]

What are your headcanons on Henry and Linda's relationship?

I'll be honest, prior to this, I hadn't really considered Linda and hadn't really developed her character beyond a bland housewife stereotype. As a result, a lot of these will just be headcanons about Linda. I hope you enjoy this.

-Henry met her at a college party held at some undergrad dorm at the age of twenty: a party that Joey (at 29) felt too old to join him for and possibly the first one he'd attended without him. He used lines that Joey had taught him to get her phone number and relied on Joey for relationship advice once things got rolling as well.

-Joey wasn't jealous at first. He thought that Henry would always put him first and that helping Henry with his relationship would just make him more loyal.

-Joey did get to meet her and had a rather stereotypical view of her. A sheltered girl from a traditional, religious family with a good bit of money, taking some insubstantial classes until she could find a husband. Sure to give Henry the kind of life he was sure Henry would reject over the one that he planned to build with the studio. He didn't hate her, though. The narrative of Henry choosing him only had value if there was something to choose against. Linda could pick up on Joey's subtle coldness towards her and found him a bit creepy as a result.

-Joey is also pretty wrong about Linda. She wasn't meek- she was more assertive and outgoing than Henry. She wasn't just taking classes until she could find a partner. It might have started that way due to her upbringing and the time period, but Linda realized during her first semester that she wanted to pursue engineering, and she worked as an engineer for years after she graduated. She didn't have anything against Henry and Joey's friendship- she was glad that Henry had someone who inspired him so much artistically.

-She also wasn't as set in her traditional ways as Joey thought- she was discovering all kinds of new things about herself as a newly independent youth, just like Henry was. And Henry had to admit that it was kind of nice to have someone on his level, who didn't act like they had all the answers.

-One of Henry's favourite things to do for a date was to have a picnic down by the river. It was a beautiful place with plenty of green space, and sometimes concerts would be held there. He also dragged Linda to more than a few art shows (generally with Abby and Joey along as well), and liked taking her to movies.

-Once the studio got started, Henry was buried under work, but he always made time to call Linda. Always.

-It wasn't enough. For one thing, Linda was worried about Henry and mad that Henry wouldn't do what was necessary to look after himself. He was always tired, and told her about some very manipulative things Joey was doing and how often he had to work through the night. It hurt to see. The other part of it was that Linda knew her needs wouldn't be met if they stayed together. She wanted a family, and didn't know if that would be possible if Henry stayed. She was ready to give him the "it's me or the studio" talk by the time he finally decided to leave.

-Henry proposed to her the same day he landed a job elsewhere. She accepted, and they moved across the country together so that Henry could work for Disney. It was a huge leap of faith for them both, but they don't regret it in the slightest.

-Linda encouraged Henry to stop contacting Joey after leaving. Joey was still having boundary issues and it was bringing Henry a lot of stress and little else. Sadly, Joey just wasn't worth having in his life anymore.

-Children came soon after that, with Linda staying home to look after them. They had three boys and one girl. Henry is a very lax parent because he was raised with a lot of freedom and responsibility. Linda isn't too uptight, either, but she does keep them on somewhat of a tighter leash.

-Henry was drafted and Linda was a Rosie the Riveter during the second world war. It was a difficult time for both of them-Henry being away from his family and fearing for his life, and Linda having to put a brave face on for the kids she had to raise alone for the next three years. Their reunion was nothing short of pure joy.

-Henry, Linda, and a couple of their kids (not all of them could make it) were taking a brief vacation to New York when Henry disappeared. It's something they did now and then since Linda's family lived in New York. They were happy. They'd raised some wonderful children and gotten through their toughest times together. Henry was nearing the end of a successful animation career and Linda had been back in the workforce for a while and was quite enjoying it. And then Henry went to visit Joey and never came back.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #Henry x Linda #Henry Stein #Linda Stein #lowfructosecornsyrup #thanks for the ask

[jallieae]

Lore/Meta Analysis Time

So, after watching all four of today’s streams, I’m left wondering and theorizing about a few things. Mainly, why make the choice to have c!Dream fake an escape? Why not, a) go through with it, or b) leave off on c!Techno escaping back to the Syndicate HQ?

Personally, I think that the whole point was to get the audience familiarized with the protocols of what would happen if c!Dream escapes -- like what the alarm sounds like for example, as Quackity continuously brought up Sam’s alarm even outside of complaining about the volume -- that way when c!Dream does escape -- whether or not c!Techno breaks him out -- there will be doubt about it, and the audience will have context needed to make the moment more impactful.

I think it was smart to tease the escape, that way the audience knows what an actual escape will look like and that way the prison arc is pushed back into relevancy after three months of no lore. It’s a brilliant segway on the cc’s part to get things heating up again without chucking a huge escape on an audience who has been in a lore drought for so long, and it also opened up a lot of possibilities for future lore for many characters. As of right now, c!Dream’s escape might stay limited to the Las Nevadas crew, or the news might just spread to others if c!Sam keeps his word not to spill about c!Dream’s actual whereabouts, which can pull in other characters like Tommy, Ranboo, Wilbur, and hopefully also people like Niki and Eret and Sapnap who haven’t really dipped into the prison arc at all (and I know cc!Eret wanted back into lore and this could be a good opportunity!)

Bouncing off that, I think it’s super interesting that c!Dream does not want c!Quackity to know he is alive and contained. While he says he is afraid of c!Quackity killing him, I doubt that’s why. I think that c!Dream knows how to play to c!Sam’s weaknesses a lot better than he does c!Quackity. c!Quackity is much more resistant to c!Dream’s tactics, or at least better at recognizing them. He also has less weaknesses that c!Dream can exploit verbally, whereas c!Sam has made it clear that he still harnesses a lot of guilt and anger about c!Tommy and what c!Dream did to him. c!Quackity has also exploited this guilt before to manipulate c!Sam into letting him bring weapons into the prison -- it works well. With c!Sam isolated away from c!Quackity’s influence, he is much easier for c!Dream to manipulate, and he might even start falling back into his previous, more detached Warden persona, which would be even better for c!Dream. With c!Quackity out of the picture, c!Sam has succeeded in isolating himself both to c!Dream and also to the responsibility of keeping c!Dream in check. While his resilience seems strong so far, likely fueled by anger about c!Tommy, only time can tell whether or not that will hold true.

But what does c!Dream want from c!Sam in that scenario? I think it’s literally to go to the courtyard like he asked. He pitched it in a way that made it seem like he was yearning for the sun again, and he exaggerated the isolation by bringing up the other inhumane protocols of the prison like the food of choice. While c!Sam called him on his bullshit, c!Dream admitted that he didn’t think he’d end up in the cell, which I think is true. I think that he predicted he might need to get out of the prison somehow, but not that he’d end up in the maximum security cell, and that that failsafe is planted in the courtyard that c!Sam shut down because of a vague “security issue.” We also know that c!Dream left c!Techno coordinates that lead to a chest containing blueprints and a note. These are likely c!Dream’s original blueprints, as this stream it was stressed about c!Dream’s immense involvement in designing the prison. And it likely contains an escape route linked to the courtyard, or something of the other. I doubt it’d be something like a stasis chamber, as that’d be kind of lazy. Not to mention that that would also eliminate the use of actual blueprints. If c!Techno goes forward with busting c!Dream out, I think it’ll be after c!Dream whittles down c!Sam’s resilience and pleads his way into the courtyard somehow. It’s simply been teased too much both on Twitter, by c!Quackity as he tried to get out of the prison, and c!Dream himself. I’m willing to bet that c!Dream either called in his favor, or exploited c!Techno’s firm belief in absolute reciprocity in order to get c!Techno to break him out, as the favor was mentioned by either c!Sam or c!Quackity (can’t remember.)

And then let’s move onto to c!Quackity, who’s dead set on c!Dream going after Las Nevadas once he’s out. And while I have no doubt that that is one of c!Dream’s priorities -- he is very good at exploiting specific weaknesses, and he knows that c!Quackity has lost basically every home he’s ever had -- I think that c!Quackity’s paranoia was a massive red herring as to what c!Dream actually will make his first priority. cc!Sam mentioned that Logstedshire would become plot-relevant again, and c!Tommy was brought up a lot during the stream, and so I think that while the narrative may paint it in a way that seems like c!Dream and c!Quackity are going to have some sort of war (or battle, if c!Quackity’s “battle log” is any indication), I think that that is just smoke and mirrors for the actual outcome. I have no doubt that c!Tommy is definitely about to be targeted, especially as c!Sam continues to bring up c!Dream’s treatment of c!Tommy, which he can likely spin into c!Tommy’s fault for him being subject to that in the first place. This would likely drag c!Wilbur back into the mix if c!Dream goes after c!Tommy, because the whole “Dream is my hero thing” has been set up to get challenged, and without c!Tommy blantantly dropping the details of exile onto c!Wilbur, I can’t see what would be a better challenge then c!Dream literally being out and c!Wilbur having to deal with that as well. 

But yeah, this is basically my predictions as to where the SMP is going from here, at least involving Las Nevadas and the prison arc. Hopefully we’ll see many other arcs and characters get intertwined with this. It’d be a cool parallel to the end of the Disc War finale, and hopefully the Syndicate won’t erase all of the characters’ development in order to make it some epic Dream & Syndicate vs. Tommy, Las Nevadas, and etc. It would be cool though for c!Phil and c!Techno to go through with breaking c!Dream out and then regretting or seeing why they definitely shouldn’t have done that. Maybe we can even have some Bedrock Bros content since there have been tons of parallels and contrasts with c!Techno being imprisoned with c!Dream and c!Tommy being imprisoned with c!Dream (like the dog, for example. Also the motif of hope being inside of Pandora’s vault/box). Also please give us some exile arc details reveal or Dream’s mega evil plan for server control reveal (to Techno + Syndicate specifically) because I have wanted this for monthssss. c!Techno you want to realize that c!Dream literally wanted to take Carl from you soooooo bad.

TL;DR: This lore stream was epic and I think it’s a huge setup for some other major events and it also gave us so much character insight that I am actually vibrating with theory overload as I write this. 

#dream smp #dream smp analysis #dream smp lore