#not being in pain and stuff but I'm looking forward to becoming a much more calm and collected person. I really wanna better myself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fairy-hub · 9 months

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“𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐛𝐢𝐠”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: incubus!sukuna, witch!reader (sukuna's only), monster fucking, double dick, fingering both holes, sukuna cums on you, sukuna's hand mouth and stomach mouth, dacryphilia, mocking, light pain kink (Sukuna’s only), double penetration (anal and cunt), sweet soft choso, reassuring and checking in if your ok, riding, choso has a dick piercing, size kink, daddy/beautiful/little witch, praise

𝐟𝐞𝐲: so after almost starting a bedroom fire with my laptop’s charger I have no laptop for the next however long. So after a lot of tears and some frustration then self care to calm my ass down here we are! Because AIN’T NOTHING GONNA BREAK MY STRIDE AIN’T NOTHING GONNA SLOW ME DOWN OH NO I GOT TO KEEP ON MOVING!!! Also I took Kento out because I’m just not that into him anymore 🤷🏽‍♀️ so it would come across passionless

𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

“You’re lucky you're hot." The look of hunger in his eyes made it clear you'd invited a ravenous predator into your home. You want to be his breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert.

It's overwhelming the way Sukuna is fondling, biting, and stretching two of your tight, wet holes with his thick fingers. You're a toy in his large rough hands, laying beneath his massive muscular 8-foot tall stature.

He could easily rip you apart. The power imbalance turns you on as much as the sweet painful pleasure of his hands' mouth biting the soft squishy fat of your breasts. His warm tongues flicks your sensitive nipples. Pleasure and pain are becoming one and the same.

Thick tears trickle down the sides of your face. Sukuna’s smirk spreads, showing his sharp fangs. "You're being such a crybaby after having the audacity to summon me?" You can feel Sukuna's lust growing with your tears. His lust is heavy, intoxicating consuming, and hot, blurring the lines where your emotions lie.

Fucking three thick fingers into your squelching, quivering cunt. He remarks with a groan, "My little witch is an empath?” He has the excitement of someone opening a gift.

“Focus on my lust more, let it mix with your’s and drive you mad. I’ll fuck you till your body can’t keep up and you pass out." Closing his eyes, his jaw-dropping with a loud groan. Your sensitive cunt clenches from seeing his muscular body tremble over you through his large muscular body.

Looking down at you with more hunger than before. "You just keep tasting better." He's stroking your sensitive, puffy clit with his stomach’s tongue. "I can feel how close are as if I'm about to cum." It's getting harder to separate your lust from his. And you don't care to anymore.

The second you allow yourself to plunge into the deep end you're creaming. Squirting for the first time onto his thick fingers. "Feels-feels so gooood! Wanna keep cumming, gonna cum, wanna cum, gonnnnnn!�� He groans fucking your spasming, squirting cunt through your peak.

Gliding his fingers out of your ass. Pushing down his pants, stroking one of his thick, tattooed veiny cocks. Urging thick white cum to shoot out onto your belly. "Lucky for you it takes a several times before my cocks go off. Heh I can’t believe you got me off just by cumming. You’re little cock sleeve body was meant for mine." Your eyes widen, your jaw dropping in disbelief. How are both supposed to fit?

Jerking your hips away in overstimulation as his tongue rubs your clit faster. He grabs your thighs firmly holding you in a mating press. "Did you think there would only be one?” He drags his fingers through his thick cum on your stomach.

No wonder he wanted to stretch you out with three fingers to loosen up both your holes. Yet it doesn't stop you from claiming, "You're too big, it's-" He stuffs his cum coated fingers into your mouth.

"Ok and?" He lines both cocks up with your holes, whilst tightening his grasp on your thighs to keep you from going anywhere. “Your slutty little holes are going to take me anyway, and I’m going to fuck them till you’re gapping.” Roughly rocking his hips forward, thrusting both cocks in. Both tips start with a soft round point making it easy for him to glide in.

He slips his fingers out of your mouth to hear your cries from the gradual stretch of his cocks. Getting thicker with each inch till it reaches the knot-like base. Your holes offer resistance too unable to take it just yet.

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨

Pushing his boxers down, you bite your lip tensing up beneath him. His pale thick veiny thick pierced cock is beautiful but intimidating. And ever since the first picture you’ve wonder how the warm metal is going to feel inside you.

Choso looks you over, concern etching into his handsome face. A wrinkle forming between his thin brows. His voice is gentle and comforting. “Is this ok? Do we need to stop and cuddle?” But your nervous bubble up all the same.

Glancing to the side, biting your bottom lip. He gently cups your cheek, swiping his thumb, trying to soothe your jumble nerves. You look into his loving purple eyes, the warmth and admiration within them captivating.

Breathing in filling your lungs then breathing out, "Youlookedtoobiginthosepictures." You had amassed a collection of pictures and videos showcasing his beautiful veiny cocky. From cum shot, to jerking off, to pre-cum dripping from his cock you had it all. You’ve gotten off to Choso more times than you care to count.

Refusing to let your nerves stop you now when you so close to having your first time with Choso. "I want you to fuck me, I'm just worried it won't all fit. Or that it will hurt. You’re so big Cho.” His cheeks flush pink, his dark eyes widen, biting into his bottom lip.

Choso leans down, kissing forehead. “How about you ride me beautiful? I’ll only move if you ask.” The answer is easy to give.

“Please daddy.” For the first time nickname slips out effortlessly. His compassionate, caring and understanding nature. Choso gently kisses you groaning loudly. The sound makes your cunt clench around nothing.

Whining aching to have your sensitive cunt filled up. Whilst your nerves trickle into excitement over just how big your boyfriend is. His broad chest and shoulders, well defined abs. His thick, sculpted arms, and muscular thighs. A thick, long heavy being cocks like his is suiting for his stature.

Parting your lips for him to glide his tongue past. Slipping your fingers into his soft, dark hair. He grabs your hips, squeezing your squishy hip’s crease.

Pressing his warm, thick cock to your soft, soaking wet cunt. Rutting his hips, rubbing his warm cock head on your sensitive clit. Breaking away, looking down at you wondering,

Choso is incredibly sexy with his hair down and messy. “Are you sure you want this beautiful?” Reaching between grabbing his cock lining him up. His eyes widen the second his fat head touches your quivering hole.

“Nnn I do! Want you so badly daddy!” Choso glides just the tip in his abs clenching as he restraints himself from thrusting deeper into you. Shifting your hips from the pleasurable stretch of his cock head gliding inside. You can feel the soft ridges line of his cock head slipping inside you.

“Darling, you’re so wet and soft.” Picking you up by your hips, without moving you on his cock Choso carefully switches positions. Placing you on top his lap, straddling his thighs, loosening his grasp on your hips.

Rocking your hips, focusing on the feeling is his warm cock head stretching your cunt. “That it’s beautiful, take your time taking Daddy’s big cock. You going so good. You feel so good!” He clenches your hips, digging his heels into the bed.

Getting used to being so split open, just his cock head alone feels too good. Rocking your back back, splaying your fingers on hus “Daddy! I wanna be stuffed full of your beautiful, thick cock.” Taking a little more, groaning as his warm barbell glides into you. Choso trembles, jerking his hips up.

Rubbing your clit, making your sensitive cunt clench. “Sorry beautiful. How are you feelinggnnnn!” You bounce your hips, gliding him in and down. The beautiful look of pleasure on Choso’s handsome face getting you off.

Moaning, “I’m so full of your cock daddy! It feels too good. Please move, slowly.” Planting his feet, gently guiding you with his hips. Gliding half his cock into you, letting your cunt get used to being so full before giving you another inch. Watching your expression for any hint of pain.

strawberry brat all works

“it’s too tight” toji, suguru, satoru & choso

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nyashykyunnie · 2 months

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˗ˏˋ Sung Jinwoo x Terminally ill Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

‼️[ TW: Terminal Illness, Angst to Fluff, Solo Leveling Spoilers ]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Part 2 || Part 1 ♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

╰┈➤ ❝ [ We'll Try This Again, Begin Again with Zero. But This Time? I'm Never Letting You Go. ] ¡! ❞

Living felt more like a punishment more than anything. The pain he goes through starts feeling more and more deserving in his eyes. He was pushing himself to the limits when he shouldn't, he's punishing himself over a sin that wasn't really his fault.

But if anyone tells him that, he wouldn't look back at them. He would ignore their concerns.

He has a duty to uphold anyway, a duty that only he can do as a monarch.

Jinwoo has ultimately grown to be a vessel of war thanks to the system.

He didn't really care much, he already placed insurance to his name if anything happens to him.

When he's gone, his remaining family would atleast live off of something.

He has already watched his father die too thanks to the godforsaken monarchs.

What more can he loose?

Over and over again, he puts himself in the battlefield, exhausting himself on purpose, never even sleeping nor eating.

He was just fighting like a dog.

Well, dog's get much more care than what he does to himself, so does it really count?

It doesn't matte,r Jinwoo physically cannot be exhausted.

But mentally? It's a different story.

He wasn't really depressed, at least, that's what he tells himself.

He really felt numb, not exactly sad, not exactly happy either. It's as if his emotions lie in the middle.

Jinwoo felt hollow, completely hollow.

As if he were merely nothing more than a puppet in war.

The only thing that really urges him to move forward is the distant sound of his beloved's voice in the back of his head.

And soon, after he had finally murdered the Monarch of Destruction— He would be granted a wish.

Battered and tired while on the floor, he thought of what he could possibly ask from the rulers.

Thought of?

No, Jinwoo already knew what he wanted.

It was to turn back time.

To meet old friends again, to stop the gates from opening, to have his family whole again

,... To meet you again.

Yes. That's right. All of this was for you anyway.

Jinwoo recalls that memory very clearly, how you were still in the hospital bed and you two were playing a game of cards while he tells you about how he plans to be a hunter soon.

Your words were quite cute really: "I hope Woowoo becomes a really strong man!"

Those silly, innocent words of yours.

Up to this day, he still smiles lovingly whenever he remembers that.

He became this strong not just for himself and his family who needs him, but for you, the brave little soul who endured that illness—

Jinwoo fought for you

And since he is given the opportunity to correct the past, he requiested for time to be rewinded.

Right then and there, a brilliant flash of white would engulf the earth, bathing it in all it's glory. eradicating all traces of the lifeforms and shadows there is to this pathetic universe. For once in a million years, the earth was beautiful again. It looked like a star gleaming along with countless others.

Soon, Jinwoo would wake up to the sound of his baby sister's calling. Jinwoo would sit up, gently smiling at her.

It took a while for everything to sink in, for everything for him to realize that this? All of this was reality.

How badly he wanted to find you in the time he spent, for just a few weeks, he enjoyed being a child again.

Laughing with friends, screaming at others for a vanguard or healer in the pc cafe— He wanted to find you in an instant. But not right now.

He took care of some stuff first.

Your illness wont awaken until then after all.

27 years, he spent time in that goddamn dimensional crack fighting monarchs and all that crap.

When he was done, he finally came home.

Just as he set foot back in earth again, he went straight to the hospital.

April 9th of spring, where the pink petals bloomed and flew around the air— This beautiful but tragic day.

Was the first time you had collapsed and coughed out blood.

It started with your lungs, to your kidneys, to your heart, to everywhere.

You had metastatic cancer.

Coughing up blood was only the start.

And Jinwoo had come home just in time.

He didn't even ask for directions, he just went straight to your hospital room.

He knew this godforsaken place better than the doctors and nurses himself after all.

As he pried open the door, there you were, resting on the bed staring absentmindedly at the pink trees outside your window. When yopu heard the sound of the door, you turned your attention to Jinwoo.

Dazzling and innocent eyes, just as he remembers. Your youthful face, free of any sign of wrinkles. Still chubby and plump that he wanted to just kiss your cheeks all over.

As you called out his name, Jinwoo marched over and embraced you tightly.

"I'm sorry, it took me a while" Jinwoo whispers ever so lovingly as he rubs the b ack of your head affectionately.

You were confused at first, wondering why your best friend is acting all cuddly and sappy when he totally did not disappear off of the face of the earth and come out of nowhere like some sort of boogey man. But regardless, you can't help but notice the traces of tears about to break from lovely grey eyes.

When you reached over to touch his face, his voice broke and he started crying almost instantly.

Panicked and confused, you pulled him to a tight hug.

Jinwoo was crying, and in his tears and broken voice you could hear the amount of anguish he had been bottling up, the brokenness in his heart finally being revealed in the open for you to hear and see. It felt as if Jinwoo was carrying a hundred years worth of burden. And you could do nothing more than to soothe him.

"I'm sorry... Ditching you out of nowhere and acting like a sappy pup wo got kicked" He chokes as he chuckles gently, "I promise, promise, that I won't leave you like that anymore. Just trust me, okay? Here, drink this."

He hands you a weird fantasy-potion thing with red liquid inside. You wanted to deny him of it but Jinwoo stubbornly insisted upon it, as if your life depended on it.

Well, tehnically speaking, it did depended on that potion.

After making sure you gulped down every single drop of the crimson liquid, Jinwoo pressed his forehead against yours.

Mumbling ever so sweetly; "Let's do this again, okay? You and me, goofing around. I'll let you eat as much sweets as you like, I'll show a lot of pretty things. Don't worry about anything else, Woowoo will take care of it."

Somehow, you felt that Jinwoo meant that on a deeper level. You felt like right now, what in front of you wasn't just anyone else, but someone ready to lay down their life for your sake. The person in front of you, you felt as if he was going to follow you to the ends of the earth to the stars above your heads. Somehow, it feels as if his words was a promise that he would follow you wherever you go.

He already lost you once, damned will he be if that happens again.

#∞ ₒ ˚ ° 📎— kyunnya speaks #sung jinwoo #solo leveling #sung jin woo #only i level up #solo leveling headcanons #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo headcanons #ore dake level up na ken #solo leveling x reader

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politemenacephd · 4 months

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Arachnophilia: Part Thirteen

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content: Drider!Mig angst, mutual pining, hurt + comfort.

Word count: 3600

Notes: The pain starts now, buckle in. Also I'm thinking going forward of adding more rivalry stuff w the Miguel's and also maaybbeee some voyeurism with them spesifically, if anyones up for that lemme know

For the entire walk back, you were both completely silent. He crawled into the nest and dropped you down on the bed, gentle but firm, and then immediately crawled back out to prepare for the storm. He didn’t give you a chance to call him back.

In this rigid isolation, you were forced to pace about the darkening room as he shuttered the place down. He was true to his word, ensuring that the windows and doors were fully covered and that there were no leaks. He was still making sure you were safe and warm, something you did appreciate, but his continued refusal to speak was becoming hard to cope with.

You paced, and paced, listening to the rain get harder and harder. In the distance you heard thunder crack. It was like white noise, overpowering all of your attempts to hear your own thoughts, weighing on your mind and soul.

Eventually you simply couldn’t pace any longer and slumped down onto the mattress to think.

You just couldn’t get over this order 1675.

You didn’t want to be afraid. You didn’t want to doubt him. Really, truly, you didn’t. But, how were you supposed to feel about this? He’d said he had no interaction with the HQ. He’d said he was just out here, alone. How was that possible if this order 1675 thing was also true? How well did you really know him? And what was so important that Miguel, despite being desperate to bring it up, was legally unable to?

You’d known him for a while, but, had you ever really discussed his past? Now that you were thinking about it, you really hadn’t.

It was hard to stop your mind from wandering to unsavoury places, the worst possible places. You didn’t want to sit here, wallowing in fear. You cared about this man. You’d given him so much, and he’d given you just as much if not more. You wanted to trust him.

When Mig eventually re-entered the nest he was soaking wet, and had to physically shake his body dry. He ensured the door was shut before slumping down onto the dry silk floor, and suddenly you were alone, just the two of you here with the rain howling outside.

‘Mig?’

The mention of his name made him bristle and freeze. He was hiding his face, something that you weren’t used to him doing.

‘Mig… What did he mean?’ you asked softly.

Again, silence. You saw Mig gently clenching and unclenching his fists.

‘What are you referring too?’ he murmured back.

‘The um- the section 1675, thing. That they couldn’t talk about.’

‘I… I can’t, talk about it, arañita.’

You squished your lips together and shuffled with discomfort. ‘You said… that you met Miguel, once, to be recruited. You said he was territorial, and left. You never said you had any other engagement with the society.’

When Miguel turned it was slow. In the dark of the storm only half his face was lit, his fiery red eye flickering as the lamplight danced.

‘I did.’

You were shocked to see that his blunt but neutral face was gone, faded away to reveal something deeply troubled beneath. You'd never seen those gaunt lines beneath his eyes before. He looked cold.

‘You- did you, lie?’ you croaked.

‘No’ he said, blunt as ever. ‘No. That was just, the partial truth.’

‘Can… Can I know the full truth?’

You were trying to be gentle with your words, but it was hard to not sound concerned. You saw his red eye narrow, and in the dark it was hard to tell if it was out of anger or pain.

‘It- I don’t, know, how’ he said. He sounded like it hurt to talk. ‘It happened a long time ago, arañita. They signed a deal saying that it would be stricken from my record. That’s what 1675 means, it’s the process for wiping an incident so it can’t be used in the future because the person was exonerated. Miguel- wanted to bring it up to, well, punish me I suppose, but it meant he couldn’t.’

‘Okay, just… I’m just, asking then, what was it?’

Again, Mig went still. He went silent. A good five minutes passed without either of you saying a word.

‘You really won’t tell me anything?’ you whispered.

You watched as Mig turned to face you fully. The pounding rain created an oppressive air, especially combined with the overwhelming darkness. His eyes were the only clear part of his face, their red light crudely illuminating his sharp features.

He didn’t speak, but he did move. To your surprise he suddenly rose up and began walking towards you.

‘Mig, I just- I want to know—’

He reached out to grab you, and then he stopped. You froze in his grip.

He’d put just a single hand beneath your head, cupping it to his chest. You felt his heart beating irregularly beneath his hefty ribs, his breath coming in shaky fragmented gulps.

‘I’m sorry’ he murmured.

‘Mig, what- what are you sorry for?’

‘I forgot.’

Those two words brought your awkward attempt at consolation to a halt. When you looked up and spied his face through the dark, he wasn’t looking at you. He was looking at nothing, perhaps seeing something you couldn’t see.

‘I forgot what I am’ he breathed. It sounded painful, like each intake of breath was burning.

‘Mig?’

‘Arañita, I can’t lie to you’ Mig whispered. ‘I can’t. You know that. So if you ask me, I will tell you it all. I need you to know that.’

Those words were so eerily in this context. Did you want to know? Did you need to know? You hated yourself for it, but, you did.

‘Yes’ you breathed. ‘I… I am asking you, please, Mig, to tell me.’

You felt him shudder. Despite his reservations, his fears, he was still honest to a fault. He spoke.

‘I… Arañita, I-I killed someone.’

You stared straight ahead as silence fell. You didn’t know how to respond. Really, how could you respond?

‘I’m sorry’ he rasped. You saw his eyes filling to the brim, causing the red of his eyes to dance. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Mig…?’ You whispered his name, letting it hang in the air as you both trembled in unison.

You were waiting, praying, for an explanation. You were praying for something. Anything. Surely, Mig had a reason, right? There had to be more to this?

For a fleeting second, your body tensed. For a single, fleeting second, you realized you were scared of him. You prayed to not be.

‘Mig, what- what happened?’ you croaked.

You could feel his heartbeat speeding up in his chest, hammering like a frightened bird in a cage. ‘I-I didn’t want to do it’ he gasped, ‘I didn’t- I swear. It- was someone, very close to me, and—’

‘It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m listening’ you said, trying in vain to reassure yourself. He took a moment to collect himself before continuing.

‘They- When I was changed, at Alchemax, it was- chaos. Someone had sabotaged the genetic splicing machine to kill me. I wasn’t supposed to survive. I certainly wasn’t supposed to be- this. This, monster. I was scared of myself, I didn’t know what to do or how to fix it. I was panicking. So… so, I went to someone I thought I could trust. I thought they would- I thought, they would help, because they’d always helped me before, but... I couldn’t talk them down, I couldn’t—’

He paused to breath in deep, his breath rattling his chest.

‘I—I tried, arañita I swear on my soul I tried, but they were too scared. They could never get passed what they saw in front of them. They didn't see- me, anymore. It was like I was dead already. They tried to kill me, the- they grabbed a gun, from a drawer, and my body- reacted. I tried to just turn the gun away but their finger was already pulling and—it hit them.’

You exhaled slowly, releasing a breath you’d been holding for far too long. ‘So- it was, self-defence?’ you murmured.

‘Yes. Technically, it was self-defence’ he said with a heavy swallow.

‘And… Miguel was going to use that against you?’ you asked in disbelief. ‘Why? Why would he do that?’

Mig tensed to a painful degree. Something seemed to be flashing over his eyes. It was a memory, old and worn, of someone whose face he was forgetting. Like a painting in water, its colour slowly seeping away, he clung to those remnants. You felt him shake.

‘It was m—mm… Mmm.’ He screwed up his eyes tight. ‘The person, I killed, w… The person I killed was my fiancé, at the time. Her name was, Dana.’

The rain roared overhead, screaming like a beast. It shook the nest a little as the wind ripped through the trees. Miguel looked haunted.

‘I should have called my brother’ he whispered. ‘I—I shouldn’t have answered her call. I was meant to call my brother. I should have… I should have—’

‘Hey, shh. It’s okay.’ You tried to reassure him by taking his hand, letting him feel each one of your fingers to keep him grounded. ‘We can stop, but- I’m here. If you want to keep going. It’s okay.’

It took a moment, but you felt him settle.

‘The- the spider society found me not long after it happened’ he said, continuing in a trance. ‘Miguel had been planning to recruit me when he’d seen my change, hoping to have another version of him around, but… he found, me. And he found her.’

His eyes glazed over as those long-repressed memories crept across his mind like tar, an inescapable choking flood of remorse. He saw the blood on the carpet, the blood on his talons as he plugged the wound, his variants face when he realized what he’d done. It took your gentle face taps to draw him back to the present moment.

‘Mig?’ you whispered. He shuddered a gasp and tried to continue.

‘Me and Miguel… Our lives, before the splice, were almost identical. Same job, same parents, same body, and same- same, fiancé. His version of Dana just left after he changed, after he found out about his past, but mine…’

Mig paused again to avoid cracking. You kept your hands on his stomach, slowly rubbing over the fine contours of his muscles to keep him grounded.

‘He was disgusted by me, but he was still sympathetic, in a way’ Mig said. ‘I think I just proved him right about his own tendencies. I was exonerated by the society, on self-defence, and it was stricken from any record so long as I agreed to stay away from other people, so… so they didn’t get, hurt, out of- fear.’

‘Mig, that—’ You couldn’t even get the words out. It horrified you. He was almost murdered because his body scared someone he’d trusted, and he was then told to isolate? To remove himself, so he didn’t tempt anyone to try and murder him again?

‘I was exonerated, but… Arañita, I killed someone to keep living. Someone- better than me. Someone with a life, with- love and aspiration and family, and—why? Why did I survive?’

Even with your touch grounding him in the moment he was continuing the spiral. He couldn’t stop his memories from seeping into his vision. He couldn’t stop seeing the same wound on your side, or the blood on his claws.

‘I forgot…’

Mig choked back the urge to crack. Oh god. Was Miguel right?

Was this, right? No. No. In that moment, the reality of it all hit him like a bullet to the gut.

He’d been deluding himself, hadn’t he? High on the rush of being wanted, of having this unobtainable thing, but it was unobtainable for a reason.

He was a monster. He was a horrible genetic failure, who most of the world saw as malformed and mishappen. They would hate him for desiring you. HE hated him for desiring you. You would never get to experience a normal life if you stayed here with him, unable to have a normal family or a normal home.

In the woods you could forget the prying eyes of the world and exist on your own terms, open and honest, but could you hide forever?

He’d always hated Miguel for treating him differently, for beguiling him as a manifestation of his own internal issues, but could he really blame him for it? Miguel could pass for human. He was beautiful, strong, respected. Some string of fate that had failed for Mig had, on a coin toss, granted his counterpart the right to pass in a world where he was loved. No wonder he felt so entitled.

And you, you, his sweet little spider. The one person who hadn’t hurt him, who hadn’t run from him in fear. He’d wanted to believe it so badly. He’d wanted to believe that your optimism would be enough.

But he did not pass.

He was not a threat. He was not a danger. He was guilty only of existing in a body, but that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter whether their fear was rational or not. He was a spider, after all, and—

‘Everybody hates spiders’ he whispered. You gazed up at his broken face with misty eyes.

‘Miggy?’ you whispered back. His eyes narrowed as he winced, as if just the thought was physically painful.

‘Why’ he breathed, both a question and a statement at once. ‘Why? I-I tried, I tried—’

‘Miggy—’

‘What did I do?! I tried to do the right thing and this— This—’

‘Miggy, hey, sweetheart. Look at me. Look at me.’

‘Why wasn’t I made like him? What was so wrong with me?’ he seethed, his voice peaking and cracking as he verged on wailing. Immediately your hands flew to his waist. You clung to him as his chest heaved, his breathing quickly becoming erratic.

‘I’m disgusting’ he choked. ‘I’m disgusting—’

‘Hey, hey. I’m here. I’m here.’

‘I’m ruining you’ he shouted, his voice raising for the first time. 'Look at me! Look at me, and then look at you!'

He pushed you back a little to make you see, to make you see his bloody red eyes and malformed torso, the way his human half blended into that enormous spider half. The fur on his abdomen, the deep scars and claws on each paw, the furthest thing from human. A body that your brain was hardwired to recognise as alien.

'I can’t give you anything!' he sobbed. 'They’ll- they’ll hunt you down, for the rest of your life if you stay with me. They won’t let us have a family, they won’t let us stay together—’

‘I don’t care.'

Mig paused, briefly, in the face of your quiet interuption. You were unnervingly calm. ‘You do!’ he wailed. ‘Of course you do! You will be miserable because of me!’

‘I don’t.’ You clung to him tight as you whispered those words, your hands frantically stroking his back to try and ground him again. ‘I don’t. I don’t. I—I don’t, care.’

‘Why?’

You pulled back briefly to take his face in your hands. You squished his cheeks against your palms as your thumb gently wiped away a tear from his eye. He heaved at you, his lips parted and his eyes a painfully bloody red, and you met him without a shred of fear in your eyes.

‘Look at me, Miggy. Right here. It’s okay.’

Mig struggled to meet your gaze. His eyes kept closing, flitting, as if it hurt. You tried to press a kiss to his lips but he sharply flinched, so instead you kept his face in one palm and with the other you raised his hand to your lips. You kissed his claws instead, one after the other.

‘Fuck ‘em’ you said, blunt and clear. The bluntness seemed to draw Miguel out of his spiral for just a moment.

‘What?’ he panted.

‘Fuck them’ you repeated. ‘Fuck them. Fuck Miguel. Fuck- all of them. It’s- disgusting, THIS is disgusting. You should never have been left out here. You should never have had to sign away your right to contact. I don’t care if they pull out every fucking excuse in the book to keep me away, I won’t give them anything to use. I won’t leave you.’

‘But… the, family— The rule about, reproducing—’

‘That’s not enough to make me just leave you right now!’ you exclaimed. ‘I don’t know what’ll happen in the future, but there’s options. Surrogacy, adoption, or just- maybe we don’t want kids. I mean- fuck, even if we don’t have a future romantically, I won’t just leave you, Mig. I won’t.’

‘But—’

‘If I leave you, Mig, it will be on my own terms. In a year, two years, twenty years. Maybe we just- aren’t compatible, maybe we change, or- maybe we don’t. I don’t know. But I’m not walking out because of someone else’s irrational fear. You- you’re still my friend. No matter what, you’re still my friend.’

As your words hung in the air, Mig began to soften. His mind stopped playing tricks on him, showing him her instead of you, because she never looked at him this way. Those sweet, defiant eyes bore down into his soul, and warmed it from the inside.

‘I was scared, when I saw you first’ you confessed. ‘You know that. On instinct, you scared me. And I- HATE myself for that. Because you are so, sweet, and soft, and kind, and the fact you could still care about me after I showed you the same fear—’

‘No, no. You didn’t. And that- that’s what I don’t understand’ he insisted. ‘Why do you like me?’

‘Because you’re- you. That’s it. You’re you.’

Mig narrowed his eyes. He seemed so confused, like he couldn't figure out how to believe you.

‘You would- risk this, for me?’ he murmured.

‘You’ve clearly risked just as much, Mig. The last person you loved tried to kill you, the- the fact that, you trusted me enough to let me into your home, to sleep in your bed, that you tried to help me at all… I can’t imagine it.’

The rain continued to thunder outside as Miguel calmed his breathing. He was still hurting, still in a semi state of mania, but he was starting to claw back a semblance of strength. He clung to you a little tighter.

He fixated wholly on one memory, a buoy in an ocean of blood: the first day you met, when you looked at him in his defensive stance, and you said: ‘Have, other people come here to hurt you?’

He didn’t scare you, you’d said. He seemed nice, you’d said. We’re both strange on the inside, you’d said. Words more precious than diamonds. Words more precious than living.

‘I think… I understand now, why spiders eat each other’ he murmured.

You frowned with your hand still on his cheek. ‘You- what? What do you mean?’ you asked.

‘I would let you eat me’ he whispered, as one more fat tear fell like a bloody pearl down the cut of his cheek bone. It glistened as it hit your thumb, a precious stone filled with a tiny little part of his soul. You shook your head.

‘Mig, don’t- that language isn’t healthy right now—’

‘I would let you eat me’ he repeated. His voice was throaty from holding back tears. ‘Every- ounce of flesh, every bone, every atom. You would take me in, and I would finally become part of something beautiful. I would haunt your beautiful body, and look through those beautiful eyes, and we would be- magnificent.’

Your lips folded, hard, as your own eyes narrowed. The tears were painful.

‘No. You’re beautiful to me’ you croaked. ‘So just- stay. As you are.’

You leaned in and pressed your forehead to his, and this time he didn’t pull away. You rocked with him as the storm rattled the shutters, as rain pounded on the nest roof above.

Slowly, with absolute delicacy, you pressed your lips to his. You gave one peck before pulling back, and from there you let him lead. He kissed you with quivering lips, first on the mouth and then on the cheek, before ending with one, long, drawn out kiss.

When he pulled away his breathing had become a little more regulated.

‘So’ he whispered, ‘so- what do we do? What do we do now?’

You let out a heavy breath through the nose as you pondered that same question. ‘I guess… we just, keep, trying. I will go back to the society, and I’ll do what they ask me to do as a member, and—I’ll stay. With you. And we’ll see how things go.’

‘But they threatened to regulate us’ he said.

‘They said we can’t have kids. That’s it. And, even then, I’m sure I could get them to research if it’s actually dangerous. Other than that, they can’t do anything. So, we just keep going.’

Mig sighed, his warm breath hitting your face. ‘And, you’re sure you want this? You want to, try, with me? Even after this?’

You locked your gaze onto Mig’s. His eyes were red to the core but round like a puppies, soft and wet and needy. His thick brows were downturned in a hopeless expression of need. It was easy for you to nod.

‘Yes. I want to try. Now, come on, let’s- lie you down.’

You shuffled backwards onto the mattress and Mig obediently followed, his entire spider half gently curling around you. He curled into a circle with his legs folded inward, cocooning you in his warmth, and you listened to the storm burn itself out.

The thundering rain turned to a drizzle, until all you could hear was the pitter of drops on the roof. The lanterns on the wall burned their wax stubs to nothing. Soon the only light in the nest was a single strip of blue moonlight that’d broken through a shutter, its delicate glow highlighting your bodies as they intertwined.

In the warm and the dry you settled against his chest. You felt his heart on your cheek and rubbed his body for comfort, and he clung to you like a little plush toy.

‘Arañita?’ he whispered.

‘Yeah?’

‘Thank you’ he choked. ‘Thank you. Thank you.’ Link to next part!

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel smut #miguel o'hara smut #miggy #miguel o'hara au #arachnophilia #monster human relationship #drider #drider miguel o'hara #miguel angst #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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sillypiratelife · 4 months

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Zoro and Nami alliance is the struggle of being in love with freaking royalty while you come from the wildest paths of life. It's the recognition of the street smartness they needed to survive, the eyes that catch someone more refined than them and can't look away. All they have in life is what they have taken with their own hands. For many years they lived out of stealing from pirates and hunting pirates and— listen, they are feral and loyal, sure of themselves and their skills, they're the oldest members of the strawhats and they are very very gay, okay? They'll be about to die and yet they'd find a way to fulfill their promises, all the time.

Vivi and Sanji alliance is like: my life is not mine, it is of my people (Alabasta or Baratie), it is the life I promised to fulfill the heritage my father gave me (Cobra or Zeff). I'll do anything for my friends to be safe and sound, but I'm the first to sacrifice for their sake. I could never deny the blood coursing through my veins, the curse it brought me, all the memories and the suffering but the love too, the light shining in the dark. They've been in the dark parts of the world, they've been as savage or wild as any pirate or mercenary. Incapable of denying assistance to those in need, who are hungry, who seek shelter. They hide terrible circumstances and the hurt they created with kindness and smiles. They are perfectly composed if you don't look too close, but broken if you know the signs.

Sanji and Nami alliance comes from seeking more "geographic dreams"; cooking and drawing maps, not exactly the sort of stuff that requires half as much blood as trying to rebuild a nation that was the center of an historic attack or to become the greatest swordman. They have to watch as Zoro and Vivi take hit after hit, imagining the pain they take and they'll keep on taking for the sake of the nation/crew. It's the "what won't you let me help you carry that burden" and "I can't follow where you go" and "my childhood was bullshit, I miss my mom, why can't I escape the darkness of my past, I was just a kid, why are you cutting your leg or giving you food or letting them kill you for me, my real family is the connected by blood", etc.

Zoro and Vivi alliance is the determination to push forward to greatness even as your body is taking enough damage to kill you. You were given the secondary role of command and you won't fail the one who gave it to you. Even when they risk their lives, they can't die, understood? Their values are strong and unmovable, they won't abandon their honor. They wish they could freely romance the one they love, but it's the crushing weight of their responsibilities the reminder that romance has to play a secondary role in their lives. They wish to love and yet the one they wish to be loved by is always moving further and further away...

I don't know what I'm trying to say anyway.

#shan blogs about one piece!#one piece anime #zosan #vivinami #namivivi #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #vivi nefertari #one piece nami #cat burglar nami

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angelltheninth · 1 year

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im super horny.. for dottore.. *sigh* WHEN WILL THIS MAN BECOME PLAYABLE?!?! im so fucking needy for him rn istg.. no but imagine your his assistant, nice n innocent but you have a crush on your boss, dottore. Dottore teases u when u work and u get all flustered n stuff and you’re still debating if he actually likes u or not. That’s until he has you leaned against his medical table and fucks you harsh n rough. And I mean ROUGHH because that’s what dottore likes.. i think? and imagine a huge stomach buldge ❤️❤️❤️ sorry im super horny 😭😭 -🪐anon

Never be sorry to be horny on my blog 🪐 Anon! Hope you like this little blurb.

Pairing: Dottore x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, power dynamic kink, rough sex, dirty talk, table sex, degradation, lab sex, dom/sub dynamics, boss!Dottore, dom!Dottore, sub!Reader

Word count: 0.5k

A/N: This man! He is the embodiment of "if evil why hot?"

You weren't entirely sure what his intentions towards you were. Was he only teasing? Was he serious when he would look at you with those hooded eyes. Did he merely want to fluster and embarrass you?

All the answers came crashing down upon you when his lips hungerly found yours one night in the lab. He asked for your help with a problem he'd been having. As his number one assistant you were ready to help, whatever it took. Turns out that it wasn't experiments or theory that Dottore needed help with, it was more a problem of the physical nature.

"You don't need that skirt, it's pretty but it's hiding you from me. I wanna see your cunt when it takes my cock." He laughed in the dim light, his eyes appearing like they were shining with clear intent, "Do you know how hard you make things for me around here where you show up looking like that?" His cock nudged your pretty, wet folds apart, "How am I supposed to focus when I can think about was how much I want to lay claim to your cunt?"

"I-I'm sorry." You rocked your hips into him, your skirt bunched up around your hips, panties forgotten somewhere on the lab floor, your lab coat halfway down your arms as you gripped the table with all your might.

He pulled back just enough for you to get one last look at his cock, how hard it was because of you, how damn wet it was just from him rubbing the length between your legs, "Sorry? And you think that's good enough? You think the word of a whore means anything to me?" He shook his head with a sickening, sadistic grin, "You need to make it up to me. And since you've proven yourself to be worse then useless as an assistant over these past few months I need to find a better use for you."

The brutal force of his cock being rammed inside of you was enough to make you cry out. He tilted his head to the side, curiously. He did it again, his pace just as rough. You cried out again, your eyes turning glossy. Each thrust made the pain fade a little, not entirely but enough to be overtaken by pleasure.

Dottore's threw his head back and laughed, loudly, almost manically. Then he leaned forward, pushing your knees to your chest, opening you up more while he growled and set a fast, rough pace that barely gave your pussy time to tighten and clench around him before his cock was snug back inside. He wasn't slowing down, wasn't paying any attention to the things you were saying.

You didn't even know what you were saying. Your mind was a complete mess. All you could think of clearly was Dottore fucking his cock into you and how good he made you feel. That was enough for you.

"That's more like it. You're much better suited for this. Yes. Congratulations, from now on you won't just be my personal assistant but my personal fuckdoll. My pretty little thing, serving my cock all day with all of her holes." He smiled when he heard you try to moan his name. It sounded wonderful, broken, just like you, his greatest achievement.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut #dottore #dottore x reader #dottore smut #dottore imagines #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact smut #genshin impact fanfics

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1moremilgram-enjoyer · 7 months

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Kotoko's Clothes Throughout HARROW

CW Death and murder, vigilantism, online radicalization, mentions of kidnapping, Little Red Riding Hood (so a wolf eating someone and animal death)

In my Kotoko brainrot arc (aka working on a full HARROW analysis), and I think it's really interesting how much Kotoko's clothes seem to change throughout HARROW. Changing clothes in general usually represents character change, which certainly fits how much Kotoko's attitude towards everything seems to switch up as she becomes more and more radicalized (presumably by online discourse seeing some of the other stuff in the MV) and violent. Not to mention the whole Red Riding Hood thing. Let's take a look!

(Btw, I'm not going to talk about the weird changing clothes at the end of the MV, where her clothes are completely different when she sees the kidnapping than when she actually kills the serial killer. It's too much of a mess for this post, so I'll leave it for the full analysis)

(This has probably been done before but you can't stop me from posting >:D)

So, there's four distinct fits Kotoko wears in HARROW, which I'll call White Jacket, Blue and Yellow Jacket, Foggy Forest Fit, Murder Fit. (Clarification: I don't think she actually killed the alley dude, I'm calling it that exclusively for the final murder)

Let's go one by one, in order of appearance. White Jacket shows up first. It's made up of, as you can imagine, a white jacket with red streaks, shorts of the same color, a black tank top, and white shoes.

The interesting thing about this outfit is that it shows up first, then completely disappears after Kotoko attacks the man in the alley. Even when we later see her back in the studio, by that point she's already wearing her red hoodie. This makes sense, as the primary color used here is white. In this MV, I believe white is being used to represent purity of some kind, while red represents danger and aggression. So in this outfit, we see a Kotoko yet untainted by violence (white), but who already has that latent danger lurking underneath (red streaks). Hell, for all we know, she hasn't even dropped out of the faculty of law at this point.

(T1) Q7: What did you study at university?

KY: For a while, I studied at the faculty of law. There's something I want to do, so I'm currently taking a break from studies, though.

But also worth noting, in that first shot, the red hoodie she uses to murder is already behind her. Again, latent danger.

Her shoes are also important, because for Kotoko, shoes are her murder weapon. But not these shoes. The white, pure shoes are those of an innocent individual. In this case, it's because she literally hasn't done anything with them yet.

Finally, the black tank top, which she shares with her "murder" outfit. Allowing myself to go a bit insane, this is the piece of clothing literally closest to her heart. The black doesn't represent evil, but rather grief and pain, I believe.

Becoming light-headed again, it all becomes crazy, the normalcy sought for, fading away, everytime death comes. The soul moves forward - I hate all the evils in this world, I feel like I’m about to break The surrounding net covered with poison

Want to find “HARROW” “HARROW” I feel like I’m going crazy after straining my nerves The person that can’t be saved, is now understanding the abnormality

(Note: I personally think the person being distressed (harrow-ed) is Kotoko herself, becoming distressed at the world's evils. I also happen to think she considers herself "the person that can't be saved" but that's for another time)

So yeah, Kotoko's suffering a lot. We been knew.

Next up we have the "field investigation" fit, the one with the blue and yellow jacket.

Apart from the jacket, she wears a cap of the same brand, Jacques Roulet (I talked about that in this post), and some shorts. As you can see, her shoes are generally hidden, but I think they're the white ones? Either pair would make some sense, but the white ones fit better since Kotoko never performs any violent actions in this outfit.

As stated, this is the outfit Kotoko uses to investigate outside. Going in person to check out crime scenes, talking to the one guy... Thus, the blue of her jacket likely refers to wisdom, patience, intelligence, that kind of thing. It's "calmer" than the colors of the other outfits, because Kotoko is not showing her more dangerous parts (red).

See, the main thing about this design is that Kotoko is being guarded when she wears it. Note that this is the only one where she doesn't show her undershirt, which before I related to her feelings. The cap serves to further imply that, she's keeping herself vaguely hidden. Basically, in this fit, Kotoko is both hiding her feelings and vulnerabilities, as well as "hiding her fangs", if that makes sense. Presenting herself as calmer, more put together, and more rational than she actually is.

However, there's still the yellow. I think that one's meant to represent fun; Kotoko still enjoys what she's doing here. It may even be somewhat stylized as a thunderbolt, because electricity is usually related to excitement. As shown in her T1 Voice Reveal distorted line:

...Fufu... This feels so good.

(I would like to say that she obviously doesn't do vigilantism just for fun, because that's a weird take I've seen mentioned. She has other reasons, she just happens to enjoy it a bit)

The point is that this "fun" is still muted in comparison to the blue of the jacket, because it's essentially in the background. Kotoko's analysis and investigations are the most important parts of these scenes, the fact she happens to enjoy vigilantism is sort of incidental.

Last note for this one, having a "yellow streak" means being cowardly, but that doesn't really apply to Kotoko so we ignore it.

Then we have the outfit seen in the forest scenes. Red hoodie, white tank top, white shoes, black shorts. This one remains the same in all of these scenes.

The important thing to note here is that, because this is the one outfit we see exist inside her mind, this is how Kotoko sees herself, or more likely, how she would like to see herself. Note the black tanktop of despair (Milgram makes you say some ridiculouos shit huh) has been replaced with a pure white tanktop, because Kotoko doesn't want to be sad and hurt. Obviously. Similarly, her shoes remain white even after she attacks Oshii, because she still considers herself "innocent" in the sense of "justified."

Still, though, her hoodie is the red one she wears while murdering. Because she considers herself dangerous and powerful. And she is, girlboss stay winning (preferably away from the other prisoners though).

One important thing which many have pointed out before me is that, by virtue of wearing this red hoodie and being in a forest with wolves, this outfit seems connected to the story of Red Riding Hood. How exactly is a fun question, especially since Red Riding Hood is a fairy tale and thus doesn't have an official version, but let's see.

I imagine you know the gist of the story. Red Riding Hood (RRH) is a girl tasked with delivering food to her grandma, who is sickly and thus weak, but along the trail finds a wolf who asks her where she's going. The wolf then goes ahead as RRH gets distracted, and the wolf ends up eating the grandma and disguising as her. When RRH arrives at the house, she notices the grandma looks slightly different, before she gets eaten too. In later tellings a huntsman comes in and cuts the wolf's stomach open, allowing the grandma and RRH to escape unharmed, somehow. The wolf is also insanely resilient evidently, as it's still alive at this point, but the humans fill its stomach with rocks and then it dies.

... This story is a lot darker than I remembered.

We already have a few superficially shared themes with Kotoko. Protecting the weak, calling out deception... wolves-

In particular, being devoured by the wolf could be seen as Kotoko being consumed by the radicalization which led her to murder. This is especially notable because of the actual underlying themes of Red Riding Hood. See, the story is generally interpreted to be about "rites of passage" and rebirth, where RRH exiting the wolf's stomach is the rebirth. Generally it's connected more to children growing up and going through puberty, but for Kotoko we need a more general reading. As I said before, changing clothes is sometimes considered a symbol of change of character, and Kotoko certainly changes a bit throughout HARROW. For example, by forming an idea of what a "win" entails in the context of her vigilantism.

Stained emotions, what is winning or losing?

“I didn’t mean to offend”, “I won’t do it again” How many wins in a row?

Hell, one of the last lyrics in the song, which plays over a scene of the foggy forest, explicitly says it.

Newly born “HARROW” “HARROW”

And if you need any more symbolism, Red Riding Hood is also sometimes interpreted as representing natural cycles, with the girl being the sun (that's why her cloak is red) and the wolf being the night "eating" her, before dawn (when the girl gets out of the stomach). A completion of one of these cycles is also a symbol of change and rebirth;

Goodnight “HARROW” “HARROW” Laugh and I can get to like myself

so when Kotoko says "goodnight" to herself, she's making an oath to change, say goodbye to the old her and greet dawn with a new version of herself, one which she actually likes ("laugh and I can get to like myself").

And there is an actual cycle referenced in the video. The moon in the forest scenes is always a waning moon, except at the end, where it's a full moon, which is not just connected to werewolves and thus indicates Kotoko "completing her transformation and getting her fangs", but it also represents the end of the lunar cycle. Again, rebirth.

Not to mention the fact dawn breaks in the last scene.

You get it? Natural cycles being completed, being reborn, etc. Kotoko transforms herself significantly as she kills the "wolf", probably the serial killer dude.

And yet, her clothes in these forest sections never changes. To me, this shows a disconnect between how Kotoko sees herself and the way she actually is.

Timelines - 20/6/18 Kotoko: Treat you [Amane] like a child? Hah, you’ve got to be kidding. Back when I was your age, I was already the person I am today.

This is demonstrably false. I just spent several paragraphs talking about how much Kotoko changes throughout HARROW, let alone during the last 8 years of her life. The point is that Kotoko doesn't realize how radicalized she's becoming while browsing all the websites we see her going on during the video. And you know, there's probably some interesting social commentary and character complexity to talk about there, but if I get too much into it I will be here forever, so I'll leave that as food for thought.

Anyways, you may have noticed I'm not really talking about the pants. You're right! Moving on.

Finally, her murder fit. Same red hoodie as last one, but with a black tanktop and black leggings.

Her shoes are also different, a pair of men's shoes which are also her murder weapon. You see how they're (primarily) grey instead of white? Get it? Because she sees herself as only good and morally right, but she's (say it with me everyone) morally gray.

(Using both spellings to bother everyone)

I've already talked about how her red hoodie represents her violence and danger, literally covering up her black tank top of despair (might as well just run with the term).

Finally, I know I haven't been talking about the pants since I didn't see anything too interesting, but the change from shorts to leggings did catch my eye. However, I think that may just be a more 'practical' change as opposed to a 'symbolism' change. I imagine that if you're doing something illegal like beating up some dude in an alley, you'd feel more comfortable the less skin you showed, even if rationally there shouldn't be any way to identify Kotoko just by her legs.

I know I wouldn't kill with shorts and a t-shirt, but give me some leggings though, and I'm already looking at Amane's mother like she isn't dead enough yet-

Ehem. Disregard that last point.

Well, that's the end! As I said, I'm not gonna deal with the change of clothing at the end of the video, because to explain that I would have to explain an entire murder theory and talk about how I don't actually think Kotoko ever saw the exact scenes we see in the small room with the wooden floor, etc, which is all just too complicated for what's supposed to be a relatively short post. I'll address it in my full analysis, but there's too much going on for me to explain it here. With that said, I hope you enjoyed reading! Take care!

#milgram #milgram project #kotoko yuzuhira #harrow mv #little red riding hood #we're tagging it #milgram analysis

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aclowntiny · 6 months

Note

hi!! I know you said soul exchanges weren't necessary for requests, but I'm more than willing to give mine up for this one because it's a universe I adore

superhero!ateez meeting reader. who or what the reader is? entirely up to you 👀👀👀 (the possibilities are endless omg)

((also plz I've been binging all of your writing because it's just so amazing. the cute stuff just gives me lil butterflies and the fuzzies))

yELLS you’re the sweetest actually 🫶🏻 trying to balance all of my stuff & writing, but hopefully what I have out isn’t the last of the butterflies 🦋 & fuzzies I’ll be giving you 🥰 also this is such a good AU idea??? OMG not me spending forever thinking about their powers 🫣 tried not to just drop them directly into famous heroes’ roles… but Yunho HAD to be spiderman & I will not apologize 😤😝 also, I’d be down to do a part 2 for sure hehe

Warnings: some gun/minor violence/death references, some blood, suggestive comment(s), some pain/peril for Reader, long post lol

Meeting Superhero!Ateez

Hongjoong

Magic was not something to be tarried with. It was not a substance one could bend to their will, it was an art and a fickle one at that.

No one understood that better than a person who wasn’t meant to have it in the first place. He hadn’t been tricked into selling his soul, lost himself in some foolish, evil deal, no. Oh, no.

He’d gone and died.

It had felt just like blacking out when he’d been hit, coming to like the collision was barely beyond a concussion. But the world wasn’t the world when Hongjoong awoke.

There was no sun, no plants, only twisted, dead roots, and the people passing by him little more than glowing wraiths, some looking more human than others. His first reaction was to hold his hands before his eyes, exhaling in relief at the sight of their flesh. Except it felt like his ribcage had shrunk; he was unable to get as much air in or out as usual, every fight for air shallowed.

“What’s happening? Where am I?”

“This is the Underworld,” a low voice replied from behind him, sending him shooting up to his feet and turning to face its owner.

A woman perhaps twice his age, one draped in loose black veils falling around the tight shadowy raiment she wore. Her hair like emerald flame wreathing an expression of dark curiosity, like Hongjoong were a bug she hadn’t decided if she was annoyed by.

He was confused, but not afraid. “Well, I want out. There was so much I was in the middle of out there. I can’t lose it all in some accident. I can barely breathe down here!”

The woman chuckled deeply. “Getting sent back is no simple task. We do not idly accept mistakes.”

“Isn’t there something I can do?” Hongjoong urged, stepping forward and gazing into the woman’s blazing green eyes.

“You will never be fully living again. To return is to become a conduit of the Underworld.”

“Will I be a ghost?”

“No, but your humanity will never fully be restored. Death’s connection is inescapable. A part of you will forever be tied to us. Is this what you wish?”

Hongjoong had a career up there. Friends who weren’t ghosts. A hard drive full of projects. A distinct lack of green flame littering the ground. Music. Fashion. Whatever life he could have. Breath in his lungs. The words escaped his shallow chest so quickly he barely realized he’d spoken them. “Yes, it is.”

The deal was sealed willingly and the Underworld faded away, the final sight in Hongjoong’s eyes those points of green burning into his soul.

Nothing seemed different when breath rushed fully back into his heaving lungs or when he crawled from the wreckage of his car. His feet still hit solid ground as he walked back to his apartment under the night sky.

And the next day when he was yanked into an alley by two dark figures, his heart sure beat. And when they, speaking of him being the one they were sent for, raised knives, surely it was a one-way ticket out of his second life. Maybe he’d be like a cat, get nine…

All of the stress, every endorphin pumped through Hongjoong’s newly-reanimated body, dropped from him like sweat and arced out as green flame.

The cloaked assailants recoiled at the flame, cursed as glowing forms rose from it. Two of them little more than skeletons, one of them much more humanoid. More like the wraiths Hongjoong saw. More like the Emerald Lady herself. He couldn't help recoiling himself, glancing down again at his hands in disbelief. That was of his making?

The duo of skeletons lashed out first, parrying dagger with sword. You sealed the deal, slamming the butt of your polearm down upon the concrete and sending cracks erupting across the charcoal grey. Beneath their staggered feet, a fissure opened up, sending the men plummeting to some unknown doom.

And with that, you turned to Hongjoong, head cocked with interest. "You're going to be hunted from now on."

He took a deep breath, balled his hands into fists. "What did she do to me?"

"Why do you think she let you go so easily? You're the next Crane."

Tempting was it to look away from the burning glow of your eyes, so similar to the ones who bore him half-escape. Hongjoong wasn't the sort to give in, though. "What does that mean?"

"You were never meant to come to the Underworld, even witness it. Whatever your memories tell you, that was no ordinary accident you were in."

Seonghwa

When you first saw him, sparks flew. Literally.

You’d been focused on the mission at hand, hovering above what you hoped was the main jet for infiltration when a burst of the most beautiful glittering energy sparked before you, wavering like the Aurora Borealis at the edges as it struck open the adjacent craft. It was enough to shake you from the crosshairs haze of disabling anything, stealing your gaze over to the sweeping flight of a black-haired man in a dashing caped suit of violet and silver.

Stories of such a man had reached your ears. “You’re the one they call Cosmos, aren’t you?” You called, mirroring the smile that rose to his lips.

He nodded. “And you must be Depth Charge.”

“I will have you know that that was not my first choice,” you replied as you sent a pulse echoing through the jet’s steel, “or my choice at all. It barely makes sense. I go up, not down.”

Cosmos chuckled at that. His eyes sparkled like the stars in his little energy burst trick, giving him an air of innocence despite his trim figure, the way he sailed through the sky in that l roguish suit. Maybe this was going to be a fun fight after all.

He swerved narrowly past a barrage of jet-fire. “Maybe we should talk when we’re not, you know, attempting to prevent the theft of confidential technology?”

"You're no fun," you mock-scoffed, smirking and boosting yourself to the next jet with a pulse of energy.

"And you're not the one getting shot at!" He fired back, blasting more crackling, star-studded energy at the next barrage before ducking below the shrapnel.

"Yeah, yeah, just come back me up, I see our guy," you urged him, crawling to the top of the jet and focusing the waves you felt into a bladelike space.

The hole had just been cut open when Cosmos swooped in next to you. He was somehow taller than you'd pictured once you saw him up close, serious expression completely changing his bearing. You studied his profile for a few seconds before sliding in through your entry hole legs first. Boots hitting hard floor with a wince-inducing jolt up your ankles, you readied another sonic blade and crept closer to the cockpit. Some shuffling at your back told you Cosmos followed close behind.

Two goons rose from their seats at the sight of you, landing a couple of punches to both of you and even managing to knock you over before you sent their inertia right back at them, slamming them against the wall as you held your surely-bruised jaw. For all his spark, Cosmos held his own in hand-to-hand combat. Well, relatively speaking. He ended up knocking his opponent out with a surprising roundhouse kick. You smiled again, giving a shake of your head.

"What?"

"Extra," you chuckled.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he replied, extending an arm to the cockpit door, "would you like to do the honors?"

"Thank you, my good man," you humored him, peeling open the door to meet with a faceful of gun barrels.

"I would stay back if I were you," the head thief remarked. Geez, was the guy reading an old movie script?

"I would stand down, actually, unless you'd like to sail through a hole torn in space," Cosmos told him, standing firm.

Your jaw dropped as you turned to face him. "You can do that?"

He gave you an urgent look.

"Sorry."

"You wouldn't risk letting this device go any more than I would," your enemy sneered, tugging his tie into place.

"I wouldn't have to. That's kind of the thing with being able to manipulate gravity. And yes, I can do that."

With that, he raised a hand and the jet flipped upside down. No, wait, you flipped upside down, drifting into the air against your own volition and flailing fecklessly for a few flaps before firing off a balancing pulse. The case drifted loosely in the air, into the hands of one of the gunners, and then right back out as Cosmos summoned it forth. The men opened fire instantly, bullets drifting slowly into air filling with faint whisps of smoke. Both of you banked hard left to dodge the fire, grunting as you hit the wall hard, but Cosmos stood firm again, offering you his hand. Taking it, you felt yourself hurtling through the air, a familiar sensation as speed returned, then the harsh blasts of wind upon leaving the hull.

"Sorry I stole your target," he told you as he drifted and you blasted away, gazes turning from the final jet's descent.

"Stole it?" You snorted, giving him a smile. "I believe that's called helping me. I'm not exactly in this for the brownie button."

"Oh, yeah, what was it again? For fun, right?"

"Something like that," you agreed.

"By the way, if we're going to be working together, we better know each other's names. Real names. My name is Seonghwa." And there were those stars again, lighting up his dark eyes in a manner far too on the nose for his hero name.

Heart fluttering, you gave him your name.

Yunho

Fortunate. That’s how many people described living in a city with a guardian. Hopeful, like if they were to get into trouble, that very man could, in the most literal sense, swoop in and rescue them. It was like magic how he appeared at the scene of wrongdoings- it only added to the feeling that he could see all that occurred through the hustle and bustle of the proverbial concrete jungle.

For Yunho, it was a lot of pressure. Phrases like the man, the myth, the legend hit a little too close to home. What if he were to let someone down? What if one day the mask got yanked off and all everyone saw was a fresh college graduate semi-desperately searching for a job to apply his major to? He didn’t always feel like a hero, just like a man doing his best to help out.

A man with wishes and dreams like any other. Oftentimes that wish was simply for life to be normal again. Like, he had been granted this amazing opportunity and yet it still fell like a burden across his heart sometimes. Especially when he looked at you.

You were his next door neighbor, the occupant of the apartment adjacent to his. Some days you both would be out on your balconies at the same time just staring out at city lights with your favorite drink in hand and you’d glance across the way and smile at each other. Start a little conversation. What do you think those people across the way are doing? Man, you wouldn’t believe this customer at work today. Whatcha got there, the usual?

It dawned on Yunho sometimes in some poetic delusion that you two took and occupied identical spaces, yet they would be wholly unknown to the other. Made reflections of someone still learned. It made him want to clean his apartment, frankly.

It put things into perspective about his powers, too. One time his spidey sense went off and he told you to step back, only for a bird poo to land exactly where your head would have been. As a jest you’d called him your hero, but the jolt that sent through his heart was anything but funny. Fuel, that’s what it was. Motivation to be the man, the myth, the legend, even in the smallest way.

The sense rang through his body, slid down his spine, mere seconds before the cry for help. Yunho would have recognized that voice anywhere.

As he launched a web out and swung closer to the sound, his heart pounded. It had never been anyone he knew before. It wasn’t supposed to be someone he knew. But it was you. Sailing between buildings, he stuck to the top of the nearest one, gazing down at the man before you and narrowing his eyes at his wild gestures. Without warning, though, he was grabbing you, pinning you to the wall and reaching a hand-

Thwip! A hand that was pinned to his side before it could even reach a weapon, touch you again. Swinging out from his viewpoint corner, Yunho slammed into the creep with his feet, kicking him off of you. In retaliation, he landed a punch with his good hand.

“What is this,” Yunho lowered his voice lest you recognize it as your neighbor’s, “‘I can take you with one hand tied behind my back’?”

Before the man could reply Yunho tied him down again, not wanting to stoop any closer to his level of brutality.

“I think I’ll have a word with the police on you. Heard they were investigating a bunch of abductions. It’s about time they got some practice in.”

Footsteps rang out as you ran to his side. “Spiderman! Thank you! I had no idea if anyone would hear me, but I should have known!”

“Hear you? I could feel you,” he replied, “well, er, that is, I… I have this, you know, danger sense and I-”

“Hey, it’s ok. I get it,” you said, wrapping your arms around him in a quick side hug, “I know you’re nothing like that guy. Your partner’s lucky to have a guy like you.”

“Well,” Yunho’s voice lowered even more as your eyes peered into his masked ones, as if you could see him, “I don’t actually have one. No one’s really into, uh, yeah.”

“Well, then, can I do this?” With two fingers, you motioned near the edge of his mask, sliding up its corner.

Yunho inhaled, eyes widening beneath their white affects. “Sure.”

Your fingers felt cool when they brushed the edges of his skin, staying true to their word as they peeled up the tiniest section of his mask. Leaning in, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. It took everything in Yunho not to giggle then and there.

“Thank you again,” you breathed as you leaned back.

“No problem,” Yunho replied, “need a walk back home?”

You put a hand on your hip. “Since when does Spiderman walk?”

Chuckling, he shrugged. “Thought offering a swing might scare you.”

You smiled. “I’d be down.”

“Alright, then, hold on tight and name the address.”

Yeosang

It was just another day on the streets of Seoul. The day's bustle had taken its toll on the sidewalk, crowding the strip with bodies and voices. All Yeosang wanted was to get out of there. No sooner had that thought occurred, though, was he reflexively granted that wish: one of the multitudinous passersby careened sideways into him, and in his startlement he’d disappeared entirely.

Cursing internally, he searched for witnesses, sighing with relief at the simple alley he’d unthinkingly sent himself to. Premature relief, for as he turned to leave said alley, there you were standing as if frozen in a bend over a trash can, eyes wide as saucers. He felt his own eyes reflexively widen, resisting every impulse to disappear again and leave you just wondering if you’d gone crazy, never to see him again in a city that large.

A smile spread across your face. “That was awesome! Dude, you just teleported!”

“No, I didn’t,” he deadpanned, taking a few steps toward the alley opening.

“Ok, gaslighter.”

Yeosang stopped dead in his tracks, turned to fix an eye upon you again, sighed. “You understand what a big secret you just witnessed?”

Straightening, you shot him a finger gun. “So you did teleport?”

“Yes, I did. I know how this works,” Yeosang answered, “what will it take for you to keep quiet?”

“Are you a superhero?” You asked, skipping over a scattering of alley trash to move to his side.

“I-” Yeosang sighed. Most days he felt more cursed than heroic. Burdened with secrecy and threats to all who stood for differences, deviations of any kind. But a mutation like his? Inherently greater safety than most challengers to Seoul folk. Dodging the proverbial bullet. He’d managed to teleport a woman who jumped off a building and have a conversation with her. Weeks later. She saw him again, said she considered him her hero. Humbling to say the least. After the long pause, he swallowed. “I try.”

“That’s so cool! What you need is a sidekick.”

“I’m not exactly spiderman,” he replied sheepishly.

Your eyes darted briefly away, then back to his. “Home base?”

“I mean, I live somewhere already, but-”

“No, no,” you cut him off, waving a hand, “I mean like a secret hideout where you can conduct your operations and keep your research with your…administrative assistant.”

“Ok,” Yeosang chuckled, “that’s a pretty clever workaround for ‘sidekick’. But you have to realize people like me aren’t exactly caped crusaders. It’s not an organized thing, I don’t have a danger sense, I just…help where I can.”

At that, you nodded, eager expression finally sobering a bit. “I know. I had a friend whose family attacked him over his powers. He barely made it out of there. I don’t even know where he is now. I guess I just want a better face for you guys. Maybe I just want to make a hero.”

Oh. Yeosang was not expecting that. His eyes widened, softened, blinked. “It’s a nice thought, but maybe let’s start small.” A part of him couldn’t believe he was even implying an agreement, but he’d been alone for so long. Alone wanting to believe someday the world would change.

“Like some cameras? A red-string sort of situation on local crime? Bullet dodge training?”

“I, uh, I think I’ve got the last one covered,” Yeosang replied, putting his hands in his pockets and finally shuffling toward the alley horizon, squinting as he crossed the sun’s threshold.

“You’ve been in a shootout?” You gasped, following him with a hand out over your wide eyes.

“Shh,” he hushed you, glancing back and forth at the thankfully empty street, “I told you! I try to help where I can. Even if it means making myself a target. I’m much harder to hit than the usual robbery victim.”

“This is so cool. What’s your name, by the way?”

“Yeosang.”

You gave him your name, glanced back at him from the peripheries of his vision. “They ever give you a nickname?”

“They usually just say I’m like trying to hit a ghost.”

“Ghost,” you murmured, “that could work.”

“Maybe it could,” Yeosang murmured back, smiling faintly into your wide grin, “maybe.”

San

Most of the other workers thought you were too young. You looked more the age of the test subjects, they said, despite you denying any presence of the mutagens. All you wanted was to understand them, just like anybody else. After all, harnessing the genetic component that allowed adaptation that fast had both amazing and terrifying implications for humanity. Implications not lost on the subjects themselves. It was for that reason that you were assigned to the one dubbed safest for beginners.

He was a young man about your age, a man with well-sculpted features and a contagious smile-on the rare occasion you got to see it. It wasn’t a happy life, after all, in a laboratory quarters, even if they did “simulate comfort”. It was a lie and everyone knew it- those were no apartments. They were cells. It was no way to live, and there you were working there and contributing to it.

Well, sort of. “Ok, I know they say no pins in the walls, but I keep hearing how the guy who likes to give himself bear claws has practically scratched the entire things off his room, so seems a bit hypocritical. I got your old Day6 poster,” you told your subject, holding up a few pushpins in one hand and his poster in the other.

“Aren’t you going to get in trouble?” San asked, grin emphasizing his charming dimples.

“If they fire me, they lose the latest honors geneticist, so I don’t think they want to risk it over a poster.”

“Good point,” he conceded, accepting your gift and crossing the room to pin it on the wall nearest his bed one corner at a time.

His motions were careful, calculated- far less erratic than many of the other subjects’. Subjects. You kept using that word. Dehumanizing. Was that the end goal?

“Alright, what do you think?”

San’s voice cut through your thoughts, directing your attention to the band now displayed upon his wall. One small addition and the room had that much more personality. That much more San.

You smiled. “I like it.”

He nodded toward all the guys in the picture. “Who’s your favorite?”

“I dunno,” you mused, pointing, “that one’s pretty handsome.”

“Young K? Oh, everyone tells me I look like him,” San grins.

“No, they don’t!” You tease. “You would’ve just said that about anyone I called handsome!”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, “gotta have some fun before my daily blood sample, huh?”

Smiling sadly, you just nodded, stepping back to take up your syringe tray from where you’d set it on his bookshelf.

Shrill warnings echoed throughout every corner of the alternately dimming and brightening laboratory, lights flashing their own alarm as your feet struck the smooth, institutional stained concrete. There’d been a containment breach, an immediate interruption to your protein synthesis as battle stations rang.

Restrain. That was the order. As if you could do anything against a guy with bear claws or venomous barbs or someone with the agility of a cheetah. That was why your company wanted the source so badly- super soldiers and all that. Always soldiers. Never curing wounds. Never jellyfish immortality. None of the subjects had thought of that one, either, as far as you knew, but then you’d yet to witness anyone using the mutagen’s power.

What could you do? There was a taser in your pocket, a small standard-issue you’d received in case of this very unlikely scenario. Restrain was about the only chance you had, but the thought of running into the breach barely crossed your mind amidst the chaos of scrambling compatriots and banging doors as the mass escape began.

All you could think of was reaching Quarters 314. San’s room. It was insane, it was stupid, it was the absolute irrevocable death of your career there- but then again, so would all the subjects escaping be.

If a bunch of the most powerful mutants you housed were escaping already, you wanted San to have freedom. Every cent you had, you’d bet that he could walk back out onto the streets and never hurt a single soul. That’s why they gave him to you in the first place- he was complacent. Kind.

304. The moment the door entered the haze of your vision, you slammed your key card on the lock sensor pad and tumbled in.

San was hunched near the doorway. “What’s going on, did someone get hurt?”

“They’re escaping. All the strongest ones,” pausing for a heartbeat, you reconsidered your words, thought about how every man and woman in the building had the same skills, “well, all the fighters. Come on.”

His eyes, shining as ever, widened. “Are we evacuating?”

“No,” you shook your head, grabbing his hand, “you’re leaving.”

“I don’t understand.”

“This might be your one chance to get back out there and live. I’ve been coming in here every day for weeks. You don’t deserve to live in a cell. As badly as I wanna know how you work, this isn’t a life for anyone. Do you want out?” You asked, tone firm despite your frantic heart, searching his eyes.

San nodded. “Ok. Thank you. I can get us out.”

You frowned. “Us?”

“If this is all on the cameras you stick everywhere, they won’t be your biggest fans anymore.”

“Good point. Are you going to…” You trailed off, unsure how to broach the subject.

He hummed in response, those soft eyes you’d seen every day hardening like never before and that sharp jaw setting. He squared…braced himself.

“You don’t like doing it, do you?” The question came out of your mouth before it had fully entered your brain, but to your relief he didn’t look annoyed.

“Depends on what it is. You haven’t seen it, have you?”

You shook your head.

“Well, sorry this is your first time,” San said, and with that, his shoulders squared again, his head falling as if struck down.

Subconsciously, you reached out hands at his pained expression, but what could you do? It was all inside him.

At least at first. Soon, the slick fabric of his moisture-wicking regulation top was splitting, bursts of blood spraying as new bone and tissue arose, tendrils that solidified into sharp flesh-toned blades before bursting into feathers. Tears fell from San’s eyes as he shakily rose back to his feet. He’d just grown wings.

And as if all that blood and tissue and the sheer amount of development occurring over mere seconds was little more than a strenuous workout, he wiped his brow with his left hand and extended his right.

“Alright, let’s get out of here.”

Mingi

Sometimes he wondered why he was chosen.

What it was about him that another race from a different planet would think he had what it took to bear and protect one of their greatest treasures? He’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe the right place. The demand had been simple- keep it safe until others arrive for it.

The crash had happened when he was home, a sound so deafening it was like the world was ending. Shaking as he was, Mingi had run outside into the rush of the night wind, out along the smoke trail in the woods to see if whatever catastrophe had had survivors, if victims. And survivors there were- ones a bit odd-looking. Almost human save for the violet hue of their skin, the pointed tips of their ears, the vertical slits of eyelids revealed when the woman’s visor fell from across her eyes. Their skin felt different, too, as Mingi pulled them from beneath crushed metal and fire, firm and with smoothness gently interrupted by texture he could only describe as like small scales.

They didn’t look happy with him, but still accepted his help stumbling between trees and back into his home. They understood bandages, accepted beds. Swore Mingi to secrecy even as they thanked him days later. Be it technology or some uncanny occasion, they could speak to him. They could understand.

The mission they’d set out on was one of guardianship; the relic, something of myth, needed new housing and a new bearer.

“The one worthy will be selected,” the man told him in his deep, faintly accented hiss of a voice.

It was an imposition, sure. But how often did aliens land near one’s property guarding a weapon of legend? Mingi’s whole week had felt like a dream, and until he woke up the least he could do was deepen its lucidity.

“Can I see it?” He asked, peering up earnestly into their snakelike eyes from above the intricately carven and paneled box of steel with the most incredible iridescent shine he’d ever seen. Its contents had to be even more beautiful, right?

They watched, glanced down at the way his hands hovered reverently, stared back into his eyes.

“You are not of deceitful mind,” the woman replied.

“It is not out of depth that he welcomed strangers into his home,” the man shot back.

“No, it was out of kindness,” the woman insisted, waving a hand over the box, “as a reward, you may look upon the Heart of Steel.”

Gingerly, she traced some of the lines that Mingi had barely noticed with the tips of her long fingers, reaching beneath the bottom and holding her hands there until the top of the box simply floated a foot or two above the remainder, held by some microcosm gravity that drew a breath of awe from Mingi. Reflexively his fingers stretched toward the contents of the box, a smooth metal teardrop shape crafted from that same resplendent material.

Heat radiated from its small surface the moment he moved closer, sending him drawing back, but like a magnet it shot after him and into his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said, glancing at both of the beings who still hadn’t offered him names, “I swear I’m not doing this!”

“No,” the woman shook her head, snake-eyes wide, “you are being chosen.”

“And you expect me to believe this why?” You asked him, brow arched.

“Because,” Mingi put up his hands in defense, eyes scanning your form, “I didn’t even want to touch it! Why would I steal this thing I know nothing about?”

“Delskvlln was right. Not a deep thinker,” you commented.

“See? I know him! They ended up telling me their names! His wife was…er…Syssmerlyss? I am so sorry if I’m not pronouncing it correctly.”

“Well, the accent needs work, but I suppose Syssmerlyss was right- you have a certain kindness about you.” You took two steps closer to him, half-tapping, half-pushing him on the shoulder twice in a gesture that probably didn’t fully translate. “Come on, then, we have training to do.”

“Well,” he scratched at the back of his neck sheepishly, “sometimes the suit doesn't cooperate, but I think I’m starting to get pretty good with the gravity swords.”

“It gave you the swords?”

“Heh, uh…yeah?”

Wooyoung

It was hard sometimes, using such abilities for good. Had he so chosen, Jung Wooyoung could have become a world leader, a dictator even. But that thought terrified him. The pressure sounded unbearable. No fun, either, not that former friends hadn’t tried to convince him countless times to use his gifts for that, too. He preferred the traditional methods of seduction, were he to desire employing any at all.

Accessing minds was Wooyoung’s least favorite skill, in fact. Seeing and hearing thoughts was crushing, uncomfortable, an unfair dominance. Bouncing twice as high as a person should be able to with a force field, though? Making things levitate out of people’s hands? Bee’s knees.

He'd been a rogue in the city, just a wanderer who did what he could to help others when he wasn’t working. Flinging the gun out of an armed robber’s hand, blocking bullets with force fields, even fighting back when he had to.

They just didn’t learn. He couldn’t help scoffing a bit and teasing them when they fired at him.

“Now, gentleman, isn’t this a bit insulting?” He’d ask, casually flipping a hand as the bullets ricocheted and buried themselves harmlessly into walls. “And besides, I don’t want to hurt you. I just think this doesn’t belong to you.”

Cue him summoning the stolen money or goods right from their indignant hands and, eventually, back to the rightful owner. After convincing them all to stand still with their hands in the air, of course.

There had just begun whispers of his presence, trepidation at the prospect of an illegal smuggle or a robbery for the first time, a name for him emerging when he faced the first true opposition.

“So, you’re the Vigilante everyone’s talking about, are you?”

“Is that what they call me?” Wooyoung shot back.

“Guess you aren’t in it for the fame,” you snickered, stepping further from the shadows of the doorway, a tube-shaped device Wooyoung didn’t recognize in your hand.

“What do you want with me?” He asked, glancing at it and crossing his arms.

“Ideally, you to get out of the way,” you replied, flicking something on the device and sending it unfolding with large cracks, climbing up your forearm like a mechanical caterpillar and glowing at the tip once your hand was completely enveloped.

“Out of the way of wh-” He didn’t have time to complete his sentence before a bolt of energy arced his way, his instincts barely kicking in in time for him to launch away from it.

Putting up a force field, he stood his ground, staring at you with new interest. “You’re part of the weapons racket, aren’t you?”

“A plus, genius,” you replied, smug satisfaction glinting in your eyes, “the city isn’t going to need you much longer.”

“You’re right,” he said, “because I’m about to kick your ass.”

Another bolt of purple energy came at him, shattering the faint glow of his field. Wooyoung’s jaw dropped, but he quickly righted it as he moved closer. It felt like his whole body clenched as his energy focused on peeling the device off. You winced in pain and jumped back as the gun fired an erratic shot that rained chunks of ceiling down behind Wooyoung’s back, sending a little lightning strike of guilt across his heart, but he kept at it, sending each piece yanked off to your side to fortify the restraints he was making. You struggled, panting and tugging as he worked, kicking aside his work and scrambling toward a panel on the wall. With each button you pressed, Wooyoung slid your feet out from under you, but in the end he heard the dreaded activation beep. The look you turned and shot him was a mix of defiance and resignation that shook him to his core and froze him to the spot. He didn’t even stop you as you ran away, just slid the nearest couple pieces of your contraption towards himself, grabbed them, and made his own flight out before the place blew.

Shielding himself from the heat and sound, he knelt and examined the scraps. Luck was on his side, it seemed; he’d gotten the chunk bearing manufacturer and serial number info. For the first time in his life, Wooyoung wasn’t going to just deflect and run- he was going to chase you down.

Jongho

It was cloudy. It was almost always cloudy. Not exactly ideal conditions for your lot, but what were you going to do? Couldn't exactly bottle sunshine, as they said.

Not that they weren't probably trying. Scientists had gone positively psycho in your city, the hottest trend being harnessing the elements. Success rate? You, at least. It wasn't supposed to be you. Maybe not anyone, for that matter, but the spores ended up in your body regardless. You'd heard that they were supposed to be used or they'd take over, but the call to do so was strong regardless.

Trees planted on the sidewalk suddenly bloomed and flourished. Green sprouted in odd hosts within the concrete jungle. Flowers out of sidewalks and the like. Anything to combat what the rest of humanity was doing, right?

That was all it had been until someone saw you. An older man, betrayingly grandfatherly, began a mild conversation that quickly deepened, progressed to him requesting your help in an investigation on the very place that exposed you to their research.

"Why me? I barely spent any time there. I wasn't the test subject, it was an accident!" Never had you realized you were afraid to return until it was asked of you. The infection was hell until it stuck, pain all over your body like you'd never known, violent reactions as your body writhed and tried again and again to reject the foreign invasion.

Then poof, there you were as the city's chlorophyll ninja.

"Because you have been inside. You've visited once, why not again? They'll never suspect a thing, and if they do, you're armed with something much greater than what I got."

"Oh," you raised a brow, "so this is personal?"

"It's beyond that," the main replied quickly, gaze darting from yours, "but yes. I'm getting older. This sort of mission is getting more difficult. But more than anything they would recognize me in a heartbeat, and I didn't exactly quit on good terms."

"I'm not in this fight. I didn't ask for any of this," you repeated, "and now you want me to go in there blind and alone? Maybe I don't want to be your recon pawn."

The old man waved a hand, the one that wasn't gloved. "You wouldn't be alone, poor dear. You think you're the only escaped lab rat? I used to think I was." Grabbing the hem of his pant leg, he pulled it up to reveal a very elaborate cybernetic prosthesis. "Both are different. But no, I've kept tabs on the place for a long time. Found another much like you."

With that, he motioned to the doorway with his free hand. Guess you could figure out why the other was covered. As your gaze traced the man's one organic limb, your eyes fell to the doorway, where a young man about your age stepped out.

His appearance was pretty innocuous. His hair was short and dark, his expression stony but his features kind. His broad shoulders were draped with a long coat that swayed near the base of his boots, and beneath that he wore a dark turtleneck and jeans.

"How do you do, Neo?" You quipped as your eyes scanned his form.

To your great surprise, that 'mission go' look on his face melted rapidly into a wide grin, a chuckle. Guy had a nice smile.

"It's Jongho. That was good, though." He nodded down toward you. "Was the green intentional?"

You yourself glanced down at your outfit, and you'd be darned. You were wearing green. Apparently this Jongho fellow knew more about you than you did of him. You were surprised he didn't comment on the potted plant necklace you'd gotten from Etsy- the one you'd nicknamed 'ammo'.

"No, but I guess fate has a sense of humor. Do you have beef with FTR Labs too?"

Jongho nodded. "They have my brother."

At that, your heart dropped. Just by the man's tone of voice you could tell he was trying to be brave, but he didn't want to go back to FTR any more than you did. Want, no. Need? Yes. Maybe the old man was right- maybe they were taking their experiments too far. You hadn't even seen what they'd done to Jongho yet. If it had been a fight for his body, too, let alone his brother's.

"Alright," you nodded, shoving your hands in your pockets, "I'll go with you. Do you have a plan?"

"Of course. My main goal is to disrupt their comms first."

"Classic. How do you propose we do that?"

"I figured a little lightning would do the trick."

"Excuse me?"

Wordlessly, Jongho stared at you, his eyes almost glazing over as gusts of wind rolled through the room and clouds drifted over his head, spattering his black-clad shoulders with tiny droplets of rain. Electricity arced between two of the clouds, light flashing like tiny, branched white roots as it traveled down his cheek, through his arm and into his hand as if illuminating his very veins. Harnessing the elements.

Nothing could have stopped your jaw from dropping, but as you righted yourself, you couldn't help smiling with a strange rush of anticipation. "Hey, if you're the one that's been keeping it so cloudy these days, can you at least rain a little on my friends?" And with that, you let ammo grow out, engulfing your upper body with the comforting hug of leafy vines.

"Kids," the old man shook his head, "always showing off."

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furryprovocateur · 2 months

Text

a natural, inevitable consequence of the rise of therapyspeak is that it teaches us to be more selfish and self-centered in our relationships. article after article, tweet after tweet will say things like "if your friend is traumadumping to you, it's okay to ignore them" or "ghosting someone you made plans with is okay if you felt anxious about it", which, while maybe beneficial to one side of that equation, will ultimately greatly burn the other side and likely result in relationship deterioration. so much of the emphasis has been placed on understanding the self, what emotions we experience, and what situations cause these emotions that we've lost sight of the world around us. we forget to ask things like "oh, my friend is traumadumping, they probably just experienced something really bad and need someone to console them" or "[person] was probably really looking forward to going out with me, i should communicate with them".

this is part of the reason i hated that one post that was like "therapyspeak isn't ruining us, it's just enabling selfish people to be more manipulative" or whatever. unless you think people have always been this level of selfish and borderline callous due to their self-centered nature, it really fails to explain the unique rise of rational adults suddenly becoming indifferent to the wants/needs of those they care about. therapyspeak has taught people that their emotions supersede the emotions of those around them, and we need to resolve our emotional conflicts without doing the icky stuff like confrontation, communication, vocalizing and naming boundaries, etc. why should you have a difficult talk with your bestie about how you feel terrible that their wedding is reminding you of your own personal loneliness and amplifying your depression? why not instead just ghost them, not show up to the wedding, and leave them wondering as to why you suddenly vanished from their life with no warning and were apathetic to one of the most important moments of their life? your emotional wants and needs are more important after all, and you shouldn't even have to consider how someone else in your life would feel in response to your actions.

here, i'll give a personal anecdote as to what i mean. there was an online friend i knew for about six months who i had a good friendship with. out of the blue, without any warning, i was blocked by him, kicked out of his discord server, and given no explanation as to what the reason was. i actually had to text his number and ask "hey, did you do this intentionally? if you did, why?" to get a response. and this response was a long text using therapyspeak-esque logic of "well you and [mutual friend] played a joke on me and you know i'm extremely gullible (this had never been communicated to me btw) so it really hurt my feelings so i chose to prioritize my own feelings and end our relationship". you might be saying "oh wow, well that's just how internet friendships go sometimes" but this was someone who had flown to my house and even admitted to having a crush on me at one point. this was someone who arguably was more invested in our relationship than i was. when did we get to this point? the offense i had committed was. . . lying about being a user on a forum and telling a mutual friend to go along with the lie if asked. and it was only brought up once.

i don't want to diminish the potential harm and pain that my actions caused, but, at the same time, i want to highlight that every reasonable adult out there could likely deduce that this perceived harm would greatly be outweighed by the investment in this relationship and also how much this person seemingly cared about me. and, instead of taking the very reasonable option of doing any of the following: addressing this with me and asking for some type of acknowledgement of harm and subsequent apology, communication of personal boundaries to avoid future harm, informing me of my wrongdoing and still continuing to terminate the relationship, i got ghosted. you could say i wasn't owed any type of explanation, and, maybe, just maybe, you're right. but at the same time, it's emotionally harmful to have someone do that to you. immediately after realizing what had occurred and why, i felt extremely disposable in my friendship with that person, as if i had never truly mattered to them and instead had just been a concept for them to idealize, only to be thrown away when i failed to meet these impossible standards. moreover, it's just generally very bad socialization to be so incapable and unwilling to assert yourself and engage in confrontation with your friends that it's going to likely be a constant issue.

this anecdote is a microcosm of the greater problem i see with socializing in the modern age. with how easy it is to remove people from our lives with no explanation, it suddenly becomes the more tempting option when choosing between that and confrontation, boundary talk, and other interpersonal intimacy topics. and i don't want to say that everyone is obligated to your time and energy or that there's never a warranted block w/no notification (i've done this before in fact!). it's just that culturally, we're becoming more and more self-interested and less invested in the wants/needs of those around us, stranger or friend. by telling ourselves that we owe no one anything, we don't hold ourselves accountable to the social obligations of checking in our friends every now and then ("i don't believe in friendship degradation!" that isn't how the real world works), making sure we communicate when we need certain things from them, and when we need to have conversations about things that are bothering us. we choose instead to prioritize the self, and in that, we lose sight of the world around us.

#long #long post #i was thinking about this while showering

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merakiui · 11 months

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Mera! I'm losing track of the days lol, but so long as i send an ask a week, i think i should be okay 😂

Also feel free to post your hsr hair thoughts bc i love to read your rambles as much as your fics! I'm looking forward to the jade one and him imitating floyd is really amusing. I like to think jade has a sort of pride about him where he loathes being compared to floyd but also jokes it off when someone does or when someone mistakes them, so i can imagine his pride and ego taking a hit but he endures it for sake of reader. Almost like he gets addicted to acting like floyd bc everyone likes floyd better anyways, right? So why not give the people what they want! He receives such a positive response when he acts like floyd that it rewires the hurt in his brain and suddenly the thing he hates is now cathartic for him but theres still that underlying hurt underneath >.<

BUT thats not why im here hehehe, for this weeks questionnnnn......

Who do you think would be the 'final girl' in a slasher film from each dorm? And then if u can, who do you think would be the ultimate survivor? You can optionally bestow the other titles; the virgin who lives but is hurt, the killer in hiding and the idiots who are the first to go, etc :D i read a yandere slasher fic here on tumblr where reader goes into a cabin with her friends and they get killed off one by one until the yandere presumably fucks reader and it has me back in my horror phase 😅 just pretend its Halloween in june, like xmas in july hahaha

-🐔 anon!!!!

:D hi hi 🐔!!!! Thank you for enjoying my writings and ramblings and for your interest in the upcoming Jade fic!! He'd do anything for you, even if it means he has to endure bittersweet pain just to see you smile. >_< all he wants is a chance with you and he gets that when he acts as Floyd. It may be uncomfortable and it may chip away pieces of his pride as an individual, but you laugh at his jokes and look at him like he's the only one in your world. He'll do whatever he can just to receive a crumb of your affection, even if it's all meant to be reserved for Floyd. Aaaa I love writing this version of Jade!!!! He's just so interesting and obsessed!! orz

Ooooo final girls from each dorm!!! That's such a fun question. Here are my thoughts!!! ^w^

Heartslabyul's final girl would be Cater. He's so perfect for the final girl trope! You think he might die first because he's pretty and can't let go of his phone for the life of him, but when he gets serious he can be very cutthroat. <3 the idiotic duo would have to be Ace and Deuce. Deuce hears a strange noise and wants to check it out because he's definitely not scared of demons or killers and he'll beat up anything that tries to hurt him and his friends. Ace thinks he's trying to prank him, but he begrudgingly follows him, thinking it's either nothing and Deuce is trying to scare him or it'll just turn out to be something with a completely natural explanation. It's neither, and while they're both bickering the killer looms from behind. Riddle is the logical one who tries to put everything into perspective and figure out a logical reason behind everything. Trey is, unsurprisingly, the mom friend who just wants everyone to stay in one place because hopefully the authorities will show up soon (they never will).

Savanaclaw's final girl is Ruggie. He's resourceful and cunning; you think he may die first, but he's actually very good at survival. He'll live, but he comes out of the horrific night covered in blood after he's just fought the killer to the death. Jack is your typical jock, kind-hearted and caring, who doesn't believe in any of that ghost stuff or horror movie trope stuff, but when it becomes too real he gets even more serious than before, determined to survive and protect those close to him. Leona strikes me as the type who, upon the first sign of something suspicious or dangerous, promptly leaves. He will not be swept up in any murder plots, no thank you. <3 either that or he sleeps through it all and the killer thinks he's dead at first glance LOL.

Octavinelle's final girl would be Floyd. As goofy as he is, he's also another cutthroat guy who can and will survive. He may throw himself directly at danger, but somehow he always comes out of it alive. Jade is your typical killer-in-hiding. You won't suspect him until it's too late, and by then nearly half the cast is dead. Azul is the type who acts like an ally to everyone, but he's secretly either plotting with the killer or planning to sacrifice everyone in order to save himself.

Scarabia's final girl is Jamil. Most of his decisions are made solely to protect Kalim (who naturally is the comedic relief/carefree friend who is just too sweet for this world), but there's a build-up in this movie where the plot twist is that Jamil ultimately ends up tricking Kalim. Is it possible for both him and Jamil to survive? Perhaps, but this isn't that kind of movie. :) and from the bloodshed, Jamil emerges, alive, exhausted, and traumatized. (Or I could also see Jamil as a killer-in-hiding and Kalim as the final girl; it fits either way in my mind hehe!! :D)

Pomefiore's final girl is either Epel or Vil. It's hard to choose just one of them for the trope because I feel like it can fit them both in different ways. Rook is obviously the killer-in-hiding or he's just that really unnerving character who happens to know too much about how a killer thinks. >_< Vil as a final girl would be so cool because I think he can also be quite cutthroat. He's the character type who spends most of his focus on himself throughout the movie, yet he still manages to survive. How, you may ask? He weaponized various beauty products or, my most favorite idea, he fought the killer in heels and won, by which the heels absolutely became his weapon. >:) Epel as a final girl would be somewhat surprising because he's the character who no one really expects to live because he's "so petite and cute and omg how will he ever survive the big, scary killer!!!!" D: but then Epel shocks everyone when he ends up arming himself with brass knuckles or a baseball bat to go hunt down the killer himself.

Ignihyde's final girl is Idia, but then he also fits into the loser nerd category. Idia as a final girl is a little frustrating because he spends the entire movie being prideful and rude to the other characters, so everyone sort of wants him to be killed off first because he's so unlikable. But because Idia's seen all of these tropes before and knows his way around a horror movie, he ends up surviving. Ortho survives as well, but then I can also picture him being something of a sci-fi horror villain (i.e. technology becomes bad and targets humans). It's something like in book six where he was giving the students little tests in order to advance to the next level. Just a little villainous and devious!

Diasomnia's final girl is Silver. The stress of the situation manages to keep him awake, and so he's mainly in survival mode for the entirety of the film. Silver does his best to protect everyone, even putting himself at risk if it means he can save his friends. Sebek likely puts up a good fight, but he's far too stubborn and can't be quiet to save his life, so he ends up getting killed. I feel like Lilia could be a killer-in-hiding, or he's just the mischievous trickster type. Malleus could also be a killer-in-hiding, or he's the trope of "misunderstood character with a reputation that is solely rumors who turns out to be quite sweet and helpful to the main character."

#twisted chit chat #🐔 anon

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roosterforme · 1 year

Note

Smutsational Smutfest

Hangman x Phoenix

10. “Spread your legs wider.”

Sending nudes or almost getting caught

Apparently I like Hannix now, so here you go. I combined this one with another request.

Written for my Smutsational Smutfest!

Boyfriend Type Stuff

Jake knew what he wanted, but he would never admit it to anyone. He wanted to be exclusive with Phoenix, but she wasn't the going steady type.

She was, however, apparently the type who was willing to fuck him in the back of his pickup truck when the sun had set and the stars were starting to shine. It was becoming a habit, sneaking away from the others for a little fun, but Jake thought he was perhaps enjoying himself too much.

"You look good beneath me," Phoenix told him as she rode his dick and pushed his hair back from his forehead. The sounds of waves crashing on the beach below them filled the evening air. "Has anyone ever told you that you're pretty?"

Jake grunted, pulling her down for a kiss. "All the time. But you're the only one who ever tells me that I'm also an obnoxious pain in the ass who you would never give the time of day to."

She smiled down at him. "You're right. I did say that," she moaned, picking up her pace.

"So you didn't mean it?" he asked, panting a little more.

"Oh, I definitely meant it. You're the worst," she hissed, head tipped back as she chased her orgasm. Jake was so used to this by now, he knew exactly what to do. He let his thumb press gently against her clit as she came on his cock.

Jake simply lived for the string of filthy curse words that left her tongue each time he did this to her. The way her cheeks were flushed and her lips were parted made him want her even more.

He rolled he rover on the soft blanket until she was the one looking up at the stars. "Fine, I'm the worst," he drawled. "Now stop being a brat and spread your legs wide for me."

She did. And she nipped at his chin and jaw as he filled her with his cum. Natasha was addicting to him. Even the defiant way she pulled her hair back in a tight bun, completely naked in the back of his truck with her tits on display had him wanting more.

"You're staring, Bagman." That nickname. She always started up with it after they slept together. "Let's head back to the bar."

Jake just grunted as he watched her get dressed and climb back through the open rear window.

Back at the Hard Deck, nobody was any wiser to Jake's predicament. He played darts, nursed a beer and bullshitted with Javy. But inside he was a bit of a mess.

His phone vibrated with a text from Phoenix, and he opened it to find a dirty photo. She was flashing her tits for him from inside one of the bathroom stalls, and sure enough, a moment later, she came strolling out of the restrooms without a care.

"Excuse me," Jake grunted at Javy before heading Phoenix off next to the bar. "Come with me," he said, a frown creasing his brow.

She laughed at him, but let him lead her outside. "Again? Already? Damn, I knew my boobs were nice, but still. Jake we just fucked an hour ago."

"Can you just shut up? Please, Nat?" he grunted, backing her up against the deck railing and caging her in with his arms.

"Hey!" she complained, scowling at him. "Don't tell me to shut up."

"You're killing me, Nat," he spat angrily, and she snapped her mouth shut. "You can't keep teasing me like this!"

"What are you talking about?" she whispered, searching his face. "You love it when I tease you."

He head tipped forward until it was almost resting on her shoulder. "I think I want what you won't give me," he drawled in a surprisingly steady voice. "And I guess that's my fault, not yours."

She kissed his ear, and he shivered. "What do you want, Jake?"

He rubbed his nose along her neck and said, "I want to take you on a real date. Buy you dinner. Go see a bad movie at the drive in. You know, like boyfriend type stuff."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he met her eyes instantly. "Okay. We can try it."

He thought his eyes must have been bugging out by the way she was chuckling. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, Seresin. I'm in."

#4k smutsational smutfest #top gun smut #hangman x phoenix #jake seresin x natasha trace

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aisquaredchoco · 2 months

Text

Hey all, especially to those who left comments on my long post that I hope is the last of that kind...I appreciate everything you've said, and I was proved wrong when I thought I felt invisible during those times. So thank you for that! I'll never leave them unresponded though, but work went a little busier lately and now's the only time to reply to them all..

@kevinvoncrastenburg: "I'm glad you're back! I appreciate your transparency and the way you expressed yourself. I can only speak for myself but I really appreciate you and your content. Nonetheless I see your pov and think you found a healthy way for yourself to kind of slow down a little bit and focus on what's more important to you and the future of your blog. I will always be looking forward to new posts by you. Wishing you all the best and again: You ARE appreciated! 🙏🏼"

-- Thanks for the reassurance, and knowing someone's still looking forward to my stuff is more than enough. I still love my craft, that's why I'm not deciding to leave. I'll get tired, but I won't quit..

@pudding-parade: "I long ago determined that to be a "popular" CC creator, you need to do things with clothing, accessories, and hair. I'm guessing the reason is that some people don't even play the game. They just make sims and then dress, pose, and take pics of them to edit. I've never wanted to be "popular" because, frankly, it's a pain in the ass to have eyes on you and what you're doing, so I guess it's a good thing I never liked doing things with clothing and hair. LOL But yeah, it's just how it is. It doesn't mean that the things you DO share are unappreciated, though. I appreciate your TS2 conversions, in particular. :D"

-- I also figured that simmers I follow spend more time with sims and mostly show CAS cc, so I once thought "why not make CAS stuff too?" but held back because I know making them is more tedious than buy/build. I realized I won't have go that far just to acheive popularity, and of course we know being popular comes with a price. I choose inner peace, so I quit being too ambitious in that sense. Thanks too!

@nornities: "Hm, to me you are "a household name", here as well as on MTS. I'm not sure what makes a creator a household name. I created worlds, well liked by some, unknown to most. Am I a household name? I don't think so. So I think you are right, it's a lot about expectations. But your good health is the most important thing, and that you enjoy what you do (and playing the game). So I'm glad you don't retreat entirely! Take care!"

-- Ohhh...really? Even on MTS huh..*blushes* Anyway, thank you for thinking of me as such. Well in that sense, I think you earn the reputation of being a household name as well! And yeah, as I said I choose inner peace and just enjoy playing (and making cc)..

@nessysims: "You have every right to want recognition. It `s naturally. And I really appreciate your CC! I absolutely love and almost always use your repurposed uni desks. And your wood texture is an irreplaceable thing for me! I use it everywhere and it's my favorite."

-- Thank you for letting me know! It's truly appreciated. And while I have the right to get recognized in what I do, wanting too much of it becomes a problem, so it's a good start if I quit with such mindset..

@curmudgeonness: "Welcome back! I'm glad you will not be leaving. I hope you find the balance you need to thrive here. I'm sorry I don't tag creators when I use their content, but I'M EXTREMELY LAZY. I have stopped downloading S4 conversions. They're generally clunky and don't fit the (my) S3 vibe. I like S3 edits, new S3 functional objects, and S1 and S2 conversions. I always look forward to your posts."

-- Yeah, I'm not leaving. And no, don't apologize. It's fine if you don't tag creators, you're not obliged to do so. I guess I was just expecting too much from people who download my stuff, but do not want to actually force them. And thanks for the warm welcome too..

@puffkins2000: "Yayyy! I'm happy you're back! Honestly, I get the "household name" thing. I guess I sort of tried that as well. I like converting because I want those conversions in my game---and pretty much any other EA conversion. If I see it's not been converted and I have that pack, I'll totally try to do it. I rarely get a ton of likes, but at least if someone DL's it, they wanted it!"

-- Thank you for the warm welcome! Yes, that's the core mindset I also want to have when making cc 🙏. And yeah, I also tend to forget that download numbers also matter and so far I got a fair amount and maybe that's enough.

@parystrange: "To me you're one of the creators who's CC I know is quality, safe, and exactly what I want in my game. I wouldn't worry too much about being a "household name" , I think you'll always have your dedicated users, who love your content, and I personally think that is just great! I use a lot of your stuff, but I rarely post gameplay pics so you, and the other people I download from, rarely see your stuff in my game. But it IS there, I promise! 💕Also, I think the more well known you become, the more the community seems to expect from you, and from what I've seen, it appears to put a lot of pressure on to people. I don't think you'd want that ( I know I wouldn't anyway ) I never see any of my downloads in people's games - I don't have many, but I don't mind if I don't see it, I just hope people enjoy it, and that's enough."

-- Thank you for reminding me that 😊. And you're right, popularity may come with perks, but also with disadvantages. I've seen some unsolicited (and sometimes rude) requests to some popular creators and I don't want to garner that kind of attention..

@gifappels-stuff: "It shows great character and maturity to self-reflect and self-correct 💐 Do not worry so much about recognition... it is very much subjective. Just play (and enjoy) the game, and share whatever comes forth from that. All of us have lives beyond Sims 3, and sometimes, people are just more involved in their own problems and everyday lives. So don't take it personally. Rather, try to take satisfaction from the fact that you created something that brought you happiness 💝"

-- Yeah I'm kinda embarrassed that I had an ambitious mindset back then. I realized there's more to life than overthinking if people really like the stuff I make. Thank you for the words of support!

About the photo: I also got a new kitty! (the orange one) So I made him in TS3 too. Name's Ponkan by the way, and he's very sweet and chatty, always makes me feel better whenever I feel sad or stressed. He and Cloud are getting along in the game but not in real life though lol.

#replies

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differenteagletragedy · 4 months

Note

hi I just wanted to say I adore how far you've gone w the swap au (I sent the original ask lol) and I wanna ask: any hcs for cove/derek's route in the swap au? or any hcs for poly swap au? 👀

Thank you for all you have done for me, I will never forget it, Swap AU is my favorite place <3

-- Ok so usually what I've been doing is just thinking of random moments and then writing a story about them and building the universe that way so this will be very helpful!!!

-- Cliff had his shop, Baxter's dad was looking for local investment opportunities and they went into business together. I do not know anything about business, but they became ~business partners~ so Cliff would come over to the Ward house sometimes and he'd bring Cove, that's how he met Baxter

-- They were both only 13, so Baxter isn't going to do the very forward flirting that made Cove not like him so much in canon Step 3, so they make friends. In canon, Baxter likes Cove so much, he thinks he's so sweet and good so that's true here. He becomes Baxter's confidante, he's the only one he tells about MC.

-- Cove and MC never have a thing, but they are good friends! Close enough that when the business relationship between Baxter's dad and Cliff sours (Cliff finds out that he is NOT a good person and is fine with his business taking a little hit so that he doesn't associate with him anymore) Cove can go hang out with MC and Baxter can show up without Wards getting into a tizzy.

-- Which, btw, Wards haaaaate MC's moms with a passion for so many reasons, the list gets longer as the years go by. The reason they let Baxter hang out around there is because 1, Baxter is kind of a pain in the ass and would pester them to the ends of the earth if they didn't let him go, and 2, it's a little obvious if they don't let their kid hang out with the kid with two moms and they don't want to be THAT loud about their bigotry. They have plenty of remarks about MC's family to share behind closed doors.

-- Cove doesn't get all "no free time only school/sports" like Derek does, so there's never really a lull in the friendship. MC is Baxter's best friend, but Cove is high up there too.

-- Cove's route will obviously be a lot of beach stuff. Baxter is still scared of the ocean, so this is something you can share with Cove. It's a little hard to think of parallels between Derek's route and AU Cove's route because Derek's is all about his big family, but that first summer with Cove is fun and it keeps being fun after :)

-- Derek is different in Swap AU in that by the time he's 19, he hasn't had years of crushing on MC, he's just a guy that comes to town for training and happens to move across the street from a lil cutie. He's confident in his looks like he is in canon, and he's fine with some flirting in that way that very nice pretty people can be. He'll obviously be much busier than Baxter was in canon Step 3 and he can't drop everything for MC, but he does have a good time with them and Baxter.

-- He'd ask MC to take him sightseeing, and to go camping instead of to big fancy mountain lodge. He'd also be good with leading the search for an ice cream truck. He wouldn't be good with the themes, but he'd absolutely help with Miranda's party and wouldn't have the hang up where he felt like he couldn't stay for the festivities.

-- He actually wouldn't have many of his canon hang ups to deal with here because he's on his own. That means you get a free-wheeling, footloose and fancy free Derek, and how nice!

-- Cove is around forever, he's just that bud. He never stepped back, you never lost touch, he's the friend that lies in a different neighborhood.

-- Derek will keep in touch too, no need for a big reunion in five years!

-- Baxter and MC get married, Cove is Baxter's best man. It would be very cute if Derek's was MC's, but they have more people to choose from (Liz, etc.)

-- See now I'm thinking about Swap AU wedding and I have to go, this is the best universe!!!

#our life beginnings and always #our life swap au

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wutheringskies · 5 months

Note

"Well, personally, I don't think MDZS characters are on the spectrum?"

oh. not even Lan Zhan? (or Song Lan?) I'm autistic and it's genuinely impossible for me to not read him that way. Especially the part where your personal morals clash with the chaos and messiness of the outside world. He's my favorite because I felt his journey and growth as a character deep in my soul. Idk about other autistic people but to me it was always the most painful thing: holding on to my values while trying to be more flexible and not attacking people or cutting them off for minor offenses. Over the course of the story,Lan Zhan manages to mature,understand Wei Ying better,and become more flexible without becoming disillusioned or passive,so he's really an ideal in that sense.

Sorry,I ranted too much again

"No wonder why Jiang Yanli, though a little more aware due to her sex and standing, gives the same vibes? like a sort of lost, good, kind vibe?"

Yes! yes! Those are exactly the vibes. I was just joking to someone a while ago that both Lan Zhan and Wei Ying have been raised by the exact same older sibling figure. Honesly that puts Yanli and Xichen's achievements in perspective,cause they both encouraged or allowed their younger siblings to be idealistic and righteous,instead of stifling those impulses,which is a choice and a great thing.

And yes,unlike Lan Xichen,Jiang Yanli is that passive mostly because of her status and sex. And because of being traumatized by a horrible abusive narc mom.

They should have been allowed to have like a soup and flute club together every sunday or something. The friendship would have done them good. (Maybe let Wen Ning join too)

Anyway,thank you for replying! It was fun talking to you!

Hey! I'm really sorry for not seeing this before. I forgot to open my inbox.

Yes, I personally do not perceive MDZS characters on the spectrum. There are two reasons for this - firstly, Lan Zhan's character is very well written. Personally, I did not feel the need to enhance him. I think you can call me a bit of 'canon purist,' that is, I derive most pleasure from improving my understanding of a literary work to be as close as possible to authorial intent (I am of course, open to divergences, enhancements, and all sorts of stuff. But if we go by my 'default' setting, it is this.)

Secondly, I would count as a neurotypical person. I think you'd agree that in many fandoms, the 'quiet' or 'just a little bit weird' person, as well as the cheery, energetic person are often immediately headcanonned as neurodivergent. Thus, I guess I felt like doing so to Lan Zhan etc might be me leaning heavily into stereotypes! In my personal experience, my close cousins - though diagnosed similarly on the spectrum, had extremely varying thinking processes.

However, it is enlightening to know more about why you characterized him as such - especially about becoming more comfortable in his skin. Lan Zhan is also my favourite character, though for different reasons. I can relate to his desire to perform each task with excellence, preference for quietude, and struggle with his dominant orientation. How he tried his hardest to be a liberal, before becoming radicalized. The struggle of being someone who respects traditional and societal values, but has his own strong personal ideals, morality and desires that cannot co-exist with them :( It's tragic how he wished to protect the one he loved, tried but wasn't good at expressing himself, wasn't powerful enough to guarantee peace, wasn't politically smart enough to change things, wasn't strong enough to fight the whole world for him, and eventually, he was even unwanted by his lover, who was hurt by him. Thus, exiled by love and punished by his clan, he really had nothing to look forward to. Yet, he choose to rise up, day after day and make the differences he could make.

I think his persistence and his healing is the most impressive thing about him for me. How he was inadequate but then, became someone who could protect Wei Ying.

There's no need to apologize! I quite love your takes and rants. (PS - please don't take my stating I am a canon purist as a form of discouraging thought. That is only for my personal satisfaction!)

I totally agree. I wish to add Xiao XIngchen to this club. In a highly tense political environment, these characters were adorably in need of some splash painting and crafts sessions. I'd love to put all of them together in some club in a Modern AU. Jiang Yanli will cook, Lan Xichen will paint and play sad, and funky melodies, Wen Ning will help and Xiao Xingchen will laugh at everything.

#my ask #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #lan wangji #lan xichen

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gingiekittycat · 4 months

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Hi, and happy Yuletide, holidays and/or the end of the year! I'm once again wandering from askbox to askbox, asking questions from my fellow Good Omens fanfic writers.

How was your writing year? What's the favourite story you wrote? Yes, YOUR favourite of YOUR work! Feel free to gush about your creations, I'm looking forward to hearing all about it!

I wish you all the comments and kudos, and an exceptional new year! 🧡 Mirjam

Happy holidays Mirjam! And thank you for the ask 💜.

How was my writing year? Spectacular, actually. I finished a fic I'd been picking at for four years, where which every sentence I wrote felt like pulling teeth (but I FINISHED it, the bastard). I wrote (goes back to check) 5 new fics after GO season 2 was released (I did the math, over 135,000 words in less than 4 months!!! How did I sleep? Eat? Do basic daily tasks? I don't even know) and the first three were only because writing was the only way I knew how to cope with all of my big feelings after the finale.

One of those fics actually became quite popular. It wasn't meant to be. It was meant to be a rant about my feelings after the finale, a rant about writing in general, a rant about how fanfic is such a strange and chaotic animal. I had just finished writing a super plotty fic which had been SO difficult, and I was tired of plot. I was tired of editing each sentence into oblivion, like I always did. I was tired of character arcs. I was tired of posting chapters and getting very little, if any, reader response. I was so tired that I wanted to stop writing, and I was angry that I couldn't. Even if no one was reading what I wrote, I couldn't stop.

Imagine my shock when people started reading the thing. Commenting on the thing, kudosing the thing. I kept writing it, with no end in mind, just pouring out word vomit in each chapter, pulling crazy stunts because I felt like it, because I wanted to, because I didn't care if it was good. It was some kind of eureka moment in a way, where I really understood what people have been saying about "write what you want."

And then something even more shocking happened: I stopped being tired and angry. I started having fun. And the plot and character arcs I was actively trying to avoid just came naturally, appeared out of nowhere, except they hadn't been out of nowhere, they'd been there the whole time. All of that painful work I'd done in previous fics, over previous years, had become second nature in this one. It just sort of happened.

What an experience in the end.

So yes, "We Can't Keep Meeting Like This" has to be my favorite of my own fics of the year. Not that I haven't written parts of other fics that I've liked more--because there are lots of parts in my other fics that I've liked more--but just for the catharsis that came from writing it. And, of course, for the readers who read it. I've made so many new wonderful fandom friends this year. I've never had many fandom friends before. I felt I came too late the fandom in fall 2019 to break into the already close-knit circles, and then I went through some intense person stuff in 2020 that caused me to take a pretty solid break from fandom for over a year. And by then, making GO fandom friends felt like a lost cause. Fandom is strange that way. The internet is a big place, but it can also feel so small.

(You said you wanted me to gush, Mirjam, and I'm not sure if this counts as gushing but this is your lesson anyway to be careful what you wish for.)

I'm on a self-imposed writing break right now. The holidays are busy, and there are parts of my real life that I've been neglecting (uh, like sleep). I have about 8 fics in my head instead, I've been making notes for them on my phone. So there will in all likelihood, be more to come.

But then again, I also feel like I might be brave enough to do something I haven't done in twenty years: write something original. Maybe. Maybe.

Anyway, thank you so much for the ask! It was a good opportunity to reflect on my personal experience with writing fic and the whirlwind of the last few months. Reading it back, it sort of feels like navel-gazing drivel, but then where else can you write that junk if not on your own blog? 😂

#My asks #Personal

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fratboykate · 1 year

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💀💀 poor baby nat 😂😂

I'm looking at your new AU bodyguard and loving it, widowed Yelena and celeb Kate ufff the angst BRING IT and I know you can man that CFAU chapter 👀🤚🫠🙃 so much you can work with this AU specially that they get divorced like 😬😵 yeah anymore you can share I'll be here 😄❤️

Well, y'all were begging for wedding stuff the past couple of days so here...have 3k of BGAU wedding things 😈

---

Yelena navigates the now familiar, labyrinthine ways of the vast military cemetery. The mid-morning sun casts a gentle glow over the seemingly endless rows of pristine white tombstones that stand with unwavering decorum. A soft spring breeze makes the hair that escapes from the blonde's braid dance in the wind. In the distance, a flag flutters with dignified grace, its stars and stripes unfurling proudly against the azure canvas of the sky.

Yelena clutches a delicate bouquet of lilies and roses as she approaches the particular resting place she's come to know intimately amidst the sea of marble markers. She places the stunning bouquet atop the headstone, feeling the coolness of the marble against her fingertips.

"Hey...Sorry that it's been a second and that I can't stay for long. Things have gotten a little...crazy."

Yelena's shoulders tense up, a subtle but unmistakable sign of her nervousness. She rolls them in response, trying to loosen them up.

"Tomorrow’s the day. It's weird...yeah. It's weird. When I say 'my wife' after tomorrow, it's not going to be about you anymore."

Yelena pauses then chuckles.

"You're probably laughing at me right now. I can hear you laughing...I can still remember your laugh...She's not...She's not replacing you. But she's good for me. At least, I think she is. She drives me crazy and her entire life is a circus. Being in the circus is definitely not easy, but I still think she's good for me. Your dad says she is. He’s met her. I didn't force him or anything. He insisted...They get along really well too and it weirds me out a little every time. Maybe I should’ve told you before I introduced my new...before I introduced her to your dad. It was strange...All of this is strange."

Yelena glances at her watch, her eyes briefly fixating on the time.

"I have to go. I still need to pick up my suit. Cutting it close, I know. It was too long last week, so they had to keep working on it."

Yelena lingers, torn between the urgency to leave and a reluctance to part ways.

"I'm not replacing you."

The statement is more for her sake than anyone else's. It's a reminder as much as a declaration to the empty space around her. The words echo within Yelena's mind, a mantra she silently repeats as a desperate plea of self-assurance. She clings to the hope that if she continues to tell herself, and if she says it enough times, it will become her truth.

"I have to go."

Yelena takes a deliberate step forward and kneels in front of the headstone, her movements guided by a mixture of reverence and trepidation. Her fingers trace the intricate inscription etched into the smooth marble.

"Natasha Alianovna Belova. Daughter, wife, friend, and hero."

The words, carefully carved in elegant script, encapsulate the essence of a love that transcends the boundaries of time and mortality. Yelena's eyes fixate on the word "wife”, her hand hesitating above it, suspended in a fleeting moment of contemplation.

Feelings surge and collide within Yelena's heart, an elaborate dance of love and loss that intertwines with cherished and painful memories.

The weight of the past, the yearning for what could have been, and the dogged embrace of the future combine to create an emotional tapestry that envelops her very being. She leans her forehead against the cool marble, finding solace in the connection she can still feel with the woman that lies here. With a deep breath, Yelena rises before turning and walking away.

Tomorrow, she starts a new chapter, one that Natasha will never be a part of. Although the profound legacy of their love is intricately woven into each of Yelena’s atoms, Natasha cannot be a part of Yelena’s new life. Their story officially ends here, but Yelena’s now continues with someone else.

As she steps away, leaving a piece of her heart behind, Yelena dries her eyes with the back of her hands to stop the tears that threaten to escape from falling.

---

Yelena drives past the imposing security gate leading into the sprawling three-story mansion she now calls home. This multimillion-dollar masterpiece nestled in the Hollywood Hills embodies luxury, from its meticulously manicured grounds to its lavish interiors adorned with exquisite artwork and breathtaking architectural details. Every facet of this palatial residence exudes opulence, serving as a testament to Kate's unrivaled success. Basically, it’s everything Yelena is not.

The house buzzes with a frenzy of activity as Kate’s staff scrambles to orchestrate the final touches for the wedding of the year. The air is filled with the hum of spirited conversations and the rhythmic click of high heels against the polished marble floors. Amidst the commotion, Sam, Kate's trusted and efficient assistant, materializes by Yelena's side, radiating a sense of urgency and purpose.

Yelena braces herself, fully aware that her fiancée's emotions have been wildly unpredictable over the past few weeks.

"Kate's freaking out."

"What about this time?"

"The flowers. Planner sent her a picture of the venue as an update, and Kate hates the flowers."

"Solutions?"

“We have less than twenty-four hours. There are none. She wants to change them to gardenias. Where are we going to find five thousand gardenias today?"

They look at each other, both understanding the enormity of the task.

"You need me to talk her down."

"We need you to talk her down."

Yelena chuckles and shakes her head.

"Where is she?"

"Studio."

"Let me talk to her. I’ll check in when I have an answer for you."

Sam nods, visibly relieved.

"How many gardenias do you think we can realistically get today?"

"I've called every florist in LA County. Between them all, maybe a thousand."

"Do you have the pictures Kate saw?”

Sam rummages through her pocket, retrieving her phone and pulling up the pictures. Yelena examines them intently.

"Okay."

Yelena turns and walks away, ready to find a way to salvage the situation.

---

Yelena enters the state of the art home studio and finds Kate, her forehead pressed against the piano, repeatedly tapping a single key with her pointer finger. Yelena can't help but cackle at the sight.

Kate turns to the door and offers a depressing grimace.

"Why did you let me pick hydrangeas?”, Kate laments.

Yelena chuckles and shakes her head while approaching. She tenderly runs her hand down the brunette’s back as she takes a seat on the empty corner of the piano bench.

"The hydrangeas look fine."

Yelena reassures her, leaning in to gently kiss Kate's lips. But Kate's frown only deepens, and she gives Yelena the most pitiful puppy eyes.

"Our wedding is going to look like ass and everyone is going to be there. Oprah's coming!"

"Don't remind me, please, or I'll start insisting on eloping again." Yelena teases, trying to lighten the mood.

"It has to look perfect." Kate retorts, her voice tinged with anxiety.

"It will. It does. I saw the pictures. It looks beautiful."

"It looks awful."

"I think you're spiraling again."

"I'm not." Kate whines pathetically. "Where were you? I was texting you."

"Last minute errands." Yelena replies, hoping to deflect the question.

"Did you get your suit?"

“Uhum. All ready."

"Is it perfect?"

"I look very hot." Yelena tells her in jest with a playful smile.

"It's easy to make you look hot. I need to know if it's perfect now."

“Kate Bishop, the suit is perfect. They fixed everything and it looks great.”

"Good. I can only handle one disaster at a time."

Kate sighs and Yelena repositions herself to face Kate directly, gently cupping her face in her hands.

"Hey..." Yelena speaks softly and tenderly. "I'm no flower expert, but I think they look great."

"Sam snitched, didn't she." Kate grumbles.

"I may have seen her on my way here." Yelena admits with a rascally grin.

"She's getting fired when we come back from the honeymoon." Kate declares, but her tone makes it clear she’s (mostly) joking.

Yelena chuckles.

"You love Sam. Don't fire Sam. What if we mixed in gardenias with the hydrangeas instead of replacing them completely? Would that help?"

"I don't know...........maybe???”

"Can I tell Sam to get on that? It's getting late, and I'm sure they're going to need time to make it all happen."

"I gueeeesssssss."

Kate looks at her fiancée pathetically, with a mixture of helplessness and whining in her voice. Yelena fishes her phone out of her jacket pocket and sends a quick text to Kate's assistant.

"See? Dealt with. Problem solved. I'm sure Oprah will approve."

Kate grouses some more.

"What if everyone thinks our wedding is lame?"

"Kate, I've seen how much this wedding cost. I'm pretty sure it's impossible for anything involving that many zeroes to be ‘lame’."

"You obviously think it's lame." Kate pouts.

"Lame? Not at all. Excessive? Entirely. I would've been fine with an officiant in the backyard."

"That definitely would've been lame."

They look at each other and burst out laughing.

"Oprah would've judged us." Yelena quips with a teasing smile.

"Not at all Oprah-approved.”

"Does it make me sound like a jerk if I say I don't care what any of them think? As far as I'm concerned, tomorrow is about you, and if you're happy, then we did good."

"Just about me?" Kate questions, scanning Yelena's eyes, trying to find even an ounce of hesitation in them.

"Revisit my previous point about the trashy poolside wedding."

"I know. I know. You hate that I'm making you do this."

"Hate is a strong word. Simply not what would've been my first choice."

"You hate it."

"I don't, but I can't pretend I'm not looking forward to putting it behind us. It's been a little intense."

"I'll make it up to you during the honeymoon." Kate suggests with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Well, when you put it like that...it's been TORTURE, borderline traumatic. So much to make up for. So, soooo much."

Yelena jokes, playing along. Kate smiles, finally relaxing in Yelena's embrace.

"Don't take advantage now." Kate surveys Yelena's face attentively. "By this time tomorrow, you'll be my wife."

Yelena nods, a soft smile on her lips.

"Unless you get cold feet...or Oprah objects."

"I'd punch Oprah in the face if she did. I've been trained by the best now. Can land a very good punch."

Yelena chuckles.

"I'll be sure to warn her to keep her opinions to herself then because you HAVE been trained by the best and that black eye you gave me proves it."

"You said 'swing like you mean it', so I did." Kate shrugs with a smile.

"All those hours of training...so you could knock out the most beloved woman on TV. Who knew?" Yelena laughs.

"Can't say I'm not putting everything you taught me to good use." Kate replies with a smirk.

"Of course."

Kate leans her head against Yelena's chest while Yelena wraps her arms around her, pulling her closer.

"We can still call it off."

Yelena suggests and Kate raises an eyebrow, looking up at her curiously.

"You want to call off the wedding?"

"No. Not the whole thing. We could take the jet to Vegas or something. I'd still be your wife by this time tomorrow but with zero of the stress."

"But I want to show you off! Are you kidding me? The super hot Special Ops Marine said 'Yes' when I asked her to marry me. I want the whole world to know. I also want the world to know how sexy you look in that uniform."

"I only enlisted because I knew I'd look sexy in uniform."

"Duh," Kate responds with a playful eye-roll.

"Obviously."

They burst into laughter.

"I’m sure I’m being insane but I just want tomorrow to be perfect," Kate confesses earnestly.

"It will," Yelena assures her.

"Promise?"

"If it isn't, we can blame Oprah."

Kate’s lips curve upward before she pulls Yelena’s face down toward her and delivers a soft kiss.

"Deal."

The kiss quickly escalates. As clothes start to come off and their movements grow more urgent, Kate and Yelena’s hands and limbs inadvertently press the piano keys, producing melodies that reverberate through the room and serve as the soundtrack to their last romp before becoming wives. The rhythm of their lovemaking harmonizes with the playful notes, their bodies becoming one with the music.

---

Kate Bishop's wedding to her former bodyguard is a lavish extravaganza that surpasses all expectations, cementing its status as the wedding of the decade. The sprawling California estate is adorned with opulent decorations and surrounded by pristine gardens, transforming the venue into a fairytale paradise. The air crackles with electric anticipation as an extraordinary ensemble of celebrities — A-List Hollywood icons, chart-topping musicians, the occasional royalty, and other influential figures — effortlessly mingle, exuding an aura of elegance in their exquisite attire and dazzling jewelry. Aware that this is a gathering for the crème de la crème of the entertainment industry, paparazzi strategically line the venue's perimeter, stealthily capturing candid moments of the exclusive guest list. Across social media platforms, a frenzy erupts as hashtags and trending topics ignite, capturing and disseminating every glamorous detail, ultimately ensconcing the wedding as the hottest topic in town.

The ceremony takes place under a magnificent floral arch of hydrangeas and gardenias. Yelena, resplendent in her crisp Marine Dress Blues, stands at the altar, radiating confidence. Her breath catches in her throat the moment Kate makes her entrance, a vision of ethereal beauty in a custom-designed gown that seems to make the world pause. Gasps of awe ripple through the crowd as Kate glides down the aisle, her presence commanding attention and stealing hearts.

The moment they stand face to face, their eyes lock and suddenly, the stress of the last few months feels justified. The exchange of vows is a series of heartfelt promises, spoken with the utmost sincerity, accompanied by tears of elation from both the couple and their guests. As the officiant pronounces them partners for life, the new wives seal their commitment with a passionate kiss.

The outdoor reception space is a sight to behold, adorned with cascading, sumptuous floral arrangements and ornate table settings. Kate and Yelena enter the reception, each wearing a different custom-made outfit than the ones they wore at the ceremony. Kate opts for a party-friendly short, form-fitting dress, while Yelena looks dashing in her flawlessly tailored suit. The room buzzes with laughter and animated conversations that continue for hours.

A seemingly endless array of culinary delights awaits the guests, each dish a work of art meticulously crafted by world-class chefs to delight the senses. Exquisite champagne and top-shelf liquor flow freely, with heartfelt toasts raised to the newlyweds and the beginning of their remarkable life together. The dance floor transforms into a spectacle of elegance and high energy as celebrities showcase their moves to the tunes spun by a world-class DJ. Special performances by all of Kate's favorite artists add an extra touch of star-studded thrills to the celebration.

Long after the moon casts its glow upon the brides and their guests, the wedding reception draws to a close. As the echoes of laughter, music, and other people gradually fade, Kate and Yelena find themselves in a quiet corner, locked in a silent embrace, savoring the intimacy of the moment. With whispered words and lingering touches, they bid farewell to the spirited celebration that marks the beginning of their forever.

The next day, Kate and Yelena set off on their much-awaited three-week honeymoon to the idyllic paradise of the Seychelles. The secluded beaches of their villa’s private island offer a sanctuary from the world, and after months of hectic wedding prep, they finally get time to revel in each other. Surrounded by lush tropical landscapes, they find themselves immersed in a haven of serenity and romance. Here, they surrender to their deepest desires, exploring the depths of passion and intimacy. They have sex. Lots of it. But their honeymoon extends beyond the confines of their bedroom. They embark on adventures, including snorkeling coral reefs teeming with life, sailing through crystal-clear waters, and basking in the sun's warmth on secluded beaches. As the days pass, the Seychelles becomes the backdrop for their growing bond. Their love deepens with every stolen glance, every tender caress, and every heartfelt conversation shared under the open skies.

When their three weeks draw to a close, Kate and Yelena return home, eagerly anticipating the road ahead, knowing that their love will continue to blossom and thrive as they start a lifetime of shared escapades and boundless happiness.

---

Unfortunately, that "lifetime" they envisioned proved to be depressingly short-lived. A mere thirteen months after their wedding, Kate finds herself in her studio, sitting at the same piano where they made love the night before their wedding, except instead of basking in the warmth of Yelena's body, she now clutches a pen and her trembling hand hovers above a stack of divorce papers.

Tears cascade down Kate's cheeks. Everything here is a painful reminder of the dreams and promises that unraveled over time. Once filled with ecstasy, the room now reverberates with the distressed sounds of her anguished sobs. And amidst the suffocating weight of heartbreak, Kate is forced to confront an agonizing truth — she doesn’t even have anyone else to blame. She’s the reason why they’re here.

#wedding...my way :)#kybgau #kybgaup #anonymous #answers

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