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omegaplus · 2 years

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# 4,076

Sunday Records, 2022.

It’s early June and I’m in the middle of eleven days off from work. I cannot tell you how stunning these last few weeks have been for me. For the first time in a long time I’ve been feeling great about many things. I have been at the top of my game. Relaxed, tranquil, and level like never before. I went to Sacred Bones’ 15th Anniversary and experienced a feeling like no other. I’ve met a few friends from the alternative-music circle whom I haven’t seen in years. I’ve been tasked to do an amazing amount of summer radio shows at WUSB. The Roman goth girl who’ve I’ve been in contact with since February taught me to face my fears, to not be afraid of bad news, and see the greatest, truest value in people. It’s not even halfway to June and I feel something great is yet to happen.

I’ve been spending money on music without worry. It’s a winner-take-all tour of Long Island’s record stores and at this point I’ve hit up three so far with astonishing results. Sunday Records would be my fourth on the list to visit and it had to be. It’s my only Sunday off in the foreseeable future and, still true to its name, only opens on that one day. I didn’t have a choice, did I? It took me only 30 minutes to get there and closing time was 5PM. It’s 2PM as I walked through those doors so I had three hours to Autobahn it through the entire store. No shelf or rack was left unsifted by me.

The layout of Sunday Records hasn’t changed one bit. Nothing’s re-arranged. Upper wall racks of 7” singles and 45’s hovered above the 12” vinyl bins. There was a maze of LP’s front to back, side to side, and in the middle. What also hasn’t changed was the owner’s system of classifying records unique to the store. If not a genre, it’s chart position, week, and radio station. Brian (the owner) was obsessive to detail and nostalgic like that. Then again, so am I.

There’s a section on the front left side of the entrance. It’s where the electronic, dusty classics, and un-priced arrivals sections were. Less than .01% of its stock was electronic and I sure wasn’t going to waste time sifting through Fifties and Sixties jazz greats. I just knew. I turn to my right and there were plenty of funk, groove, and R&B LP’s and 12” singled there. I looked under the bins and there were boxes of records not priced out. That’s where I found various hip-hop and rap singles, uncharacteristic for a store that specialized in vintage jazz, Seventies radio rock, and everything Eighties. It was all fair game and I took what I could. Unstickered singles by Black Moon, Big Daddy Kane, Kurtis Blow, Jeru The Damaja, Fu-Schnickens, Double XX Posse, and an early pre-fame DMX e.p. (“Born Loser”). I knew Brian wasn’t the type who was into West Coast jams or boombox anthems and made me think why he took them in the first place. No matter. It was a lucky out for someone like me to easily stock up on hip-hop and rap vinyl.

Now the 45’s. Sunday Records was always good with pricing them on the cheap. What I purchased in 7” singles from West Babylon’s Looney Tunes, I tripled that here. These 7” singles of Eighties hits from my Atari / Nintendo childhood meant not having to purchase full albums for one or two songs. Why not acquire them? Plenty of synth-pop, new wave, and pop rock. One 7” I might have passed up the last time around was Re-Flex’ “The Politics Of Dancing”. The single that gave me these Sunday vibes was finally in my hands. This visit’s surprises? Gary Numan’s “I Die: You Die” b/w “Down In The Park” and Killing Joke’s “Adorations” for $4.00. Then I came across The Normal’s “T.V. OD” b/w “Warm Leatherette” The good news was that I discovered it. The bad news? It was a $14.00 hit…and without an original artwork sleeve. The price you pay to take home synthpop history.

When that was over, I took a deep breathe and dove into all the vinyl inventory. The great thing about Brian was that almost nothing was out of place. He’s incredibly meticulous in that everything was in alphabetical order and with almost nothing in the wrong bin. Also with Looney Tunes, a good amount of records were alphabetized or sorted by artist, allowing me to fly right over large chunks of sections and straight to the others. What wasn’t hip-hop / rap and categorized by chart position, week, and radio station ended up on the lesser expensive side. Like the 45’s, I sped through furiously through the LP bins and acquired a lot of hits from my childhood. A recent discovery now in my hands? Captain Sensible’s “Wot” for $5.00.

And what I made up in value, I would lose later with some essential finds. That’s even avoiding the new vinyl section. Towards the end of searching was where it started to hurt. The least of my worries? The Cars’ Panorama for $8.00. The Shirts’ debut and Anti-Nowhere League’s The Perfect Crime for $9.00 each. But that’s not all. I found essentials in The Young Gods and Pere Ubu where it stopped at the $10.00.

Now the heavy stuff. No one remembers or know who The Innocent was. The Roman goth girl I mentioned earlier? She’s insanely obsessed with Tent Reznor. While doing a Nine Inch Nails run, I learned he was part of said band right after leaving Option 30. The Innocent’s only album was found in one of the bins and I grabbed it for $14.00. Had I not known about them, I would’ve zipped past it without even knowing. One album I passed up during my last record-store tour was Cabaret Voltaire’s The Crackdown. I found it twice in unopened condition for $20.00 at several stores and gave it up at least twice, thinking I could l buy it for less. Well, four years later I was right on that one. I finally found it again and for $14.00 opened I wasn’t going to pass it up a second time. While there, Sunday Records still maintained a good selection of other industrial and related releases. They had more Cabaret Voltaire records including The Pressure Company (!) and even the new ones (Shadow Of Fear and Dekadrone) which I was impressed that Brian carried. Front 242 e.p.’s were also in the bins and several Ministry records starting with Work For Love (the overseas pressing of With Sympathy), some Twitch-era singles, and all the way up to Psalm 69.

Here comes another unexpected hit in the kneecaps: Kraftwerk’s The Man-Machine for $20.00. Any time I buy Kraftwerk on vinyl I pay that price; nothing less. That’s how much I paid for a used copy of Radio-Aktivitat at a record fair held in Amityville’s veteran hall. Again, take no chances. Finally, a record that I hoped to find in the wild because it was so good: The Raveonettes’ Pe’ahi; $20.00 asking price. Decisions had to be made but not necessarily now. I held on to it for the time being, having to decide to take it now or pass it up and find it again somewhere else for less. Looks like I will take my chances.

It’s not an understatement when I say this, but 99.99% of Sunday’s stock was all vinyl. The other .01% were used cassettes and CDs placed right near its listening station at the front-right of the entrance. I passed it all up as nothing there interested me. So far, Sunday- is the only store where it was all vinyl.

Ten minutes to closing. It’s about time to make some decisions. Brian greeted me and started counting everything up. Of the 75 I had in my arms, I gave five back to him including the Raveonettes album. He was amazed. He tried selling it back to me because he also knew it was a great album. Oh, I agreed. But as I told each and every one of you, I held off just in case. His laptop lost its’ juice so there was no easy way for him to add it all up and keep track of what he sold me. He ended up taking photos of everything I bought and took him about a good fifteen minutes to calculate it all. Then I gave in. I’d take the Raveonettes’ album after all. Take no chances, right?

“You should come here more often!” he told me in an exasperated manner. “Really?” I laughed. It’s not every year that I do this, Brian. I’d try real hard to keep up if I did. Now I knew why he said that.

“That’ll come to $348.00”. Yikes. That was at least triple of what I spent at my last visit here. I was sweating like Rodney Dangerfield on his worst night. (Plot twist: he never had one.) Despite Brian giving me all the hip-hop records for $20.00, the other records made up for it. No coupons, either. But, I had all the confidence in the suburbs to spend with no worry. The stack was so hefty that Brian got me a box from the back to hold all the 12” records in and bagged all of my 45’s so that they wouldn’t slip out of position. I was relieved in the end to nail that Sunday like I wanted to. But the day wasn’t over yet.

After I thanked Brian for everything, I loaded my purchase in the trunk. I had plans on seeing Candy, a Jewish ginger whom I haven’t seen since we left Brentwood. She has a family-owned restaurant out in Calverton and I promised I’d visit the next time I was nearby. I went west on Route 25 and started the peaceful, sunny journey to her eatery. It’s not every day I’m out in Riverhead or Calverton. I took all the time in the world driving through the scenic route of vast farmland and sparse local businesses along the long, quiet roads; ready to catch up with her and walk down a beautiful but bittersweet and tattered memory lane.

Prince: “1999” b/w “How Come U Don’t Call” 7”

Re-Flex: “The Politics Of Dancing” b/w “Flex It” 7”

Normal, The: “TV Overdose” b/w “Warm Leatherette” 7”

Gary Numan: “I Die: You Die” b/w “Down In The Park” 7”

Pet Shop Boys: “It’s A Sin” b/w “You Know Where You Went Wrong” 7”

Robert Palmer: “Simply Irresistible” b/w “Nova” 7”

Pet Shop Boys: “What Have I Done To Deserve This” b/w “A New Life” 7”

Bananarama: “Cruel Summer” 7”

Belinda Carlisle: “Heaven Is A Place On Earth” 7”

Dead Or Alive: “Brand New Lover” 7”

Joan Jett: “Little Liar” 7”

Killing Joke: “Adorations” b/w “Exile” 7”

Mike & The Mechanics: “Silent Running (On Dangerous Ground) b/w “Par Avion” 7”

Tone Loc: “Funky Cold Medina” 7”

Suzanne Vega: “Luka” 7”

Human League: “Don’t You Want Me” b/w “Seconds” 7”

Escape Club: “Wild Wild West b/w “We Can Run” 7”

Erasure: “Chains Of Love” b/w “Don’t Suppose” 7”

Don Henley: “All She Wants To Do Is Dance” b/w “Building The Perfect Beast” 7”

Starship: “We Built This City” b/w “Private Room” (ins.) 7”

Todd Rundgren: “Hello It’s Me” b/w “Cold Morning Light” 7”

Huey Lewis: “Stuck With You” b/w “Don’t Ever Tell Me That You Love Me” 7”

Stevie Winwood: “The Finer Things” 7”

Wings: “With A Little Luck” b/w “Backwards” 7”

Robert Palmer: “Addicted To Love” b/w “Let’s Fall In Love Tonight” 7”

Bananarama: “Venus” b/w “White Train” 7”

Joan Jett: “I Hate Myself For Loving You” 7”

Mike & The Mechanics: “Through The Living Years” b/w “Too Many Friends” 7”

Stevie Winwood: “Higher Love” 7”

Don Henley: “Dirty Laundry” b/w “Lilah” 7”

J.J. Fad: “Supersonic” 12”

Black Moon: “I Got Cha Opin” b/w “Reality” 12”

Big Daddy Kane: Raw ‘91 12”

Kurtis Blow: “If I Ruled The World” 12”

Jeru The Damaja: “Come Clean” b/w “D. Original Dirty Rotten Scoundrel” 12”

Fu-Schnickens: “Ring The Alarm” 12”

Young MC: “Bust A Move” 12”

Chaka Khan: “Crush Groove (Can’t Stop The Street)” 12”

Big Daddy Kane: “I Get The Job Done” 12”

Double XX Posse, The: “not Gonna Be Able To Do It” b/w “The Pure Thing” 12”

Domino: “Sweet Potato Pie” 12”

Masta Ace Incorporated: “Jeep Ass Niguh” b/w “Saturday Night Live” 12”

Fonda Rae: “Over Like A Fat Rat” 12”

River Ocean ft. India: The Tribal EP

Grandmaster & Melle Mel: “White Lines” b/w “Melle Mel’s Groove” 12”

DMX: “Born Loser” 12”

Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five: “On The Strength” 12”

Anti Nowhere League, The: The Perfect Crime 12”

Mr. Mister: “Is It Love b/w “Broken Wings” 12”

Thompson Twins: “Lies” 12”

Roxette: “The Look” 12”

T’Pau: “Heart And Soul” 12”

Dire Straits: Extended Dance EP 12”

Flora Purim: “Stories To Tell” 12”

Raveonettes, The: Pe’Ahi 12”

Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark: “If You Leave” b/w “La Femme Accident” 12”

Nu Shooz: “Point Of No Return” 12”

Falco: “Vienna Calling” b/w “Rock Me Amadeus” 12”

Shirts, The: self-titled 12”

Belinda Carlisle: “I Get Weak” 12”

Captain Sensible: “Wot!” 12”

Young Gods, The: self-titled 12”

Men Without Hats: “The Safety Dance” 12”

Level 42: “Something About You” 12”

Killing Joke: “Sanity” b/w “Eighties” 12”

Pere Ubu: The Art Of Walking 12”

Kraftwerk: The Man-Machine 12”

Innocent, The: Livin’ In The Street 12”

XBXRX: Gop Ist Minee 12”

Cabaret Voltaire: The Crackdown 12”

Cars, The: Panorama 12”

#music #personal #playlists #reviews #mixtapes #Long Island #synthpop #new wave #rock #hip-hop #rap #industrial #punk #classic #boombox #old-school #wow #whoa #WTF #LOL #omega

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metalheadsforblacklivesmatter · 2 years

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I can't believe I forgot to do a post on this when I heard about it a few weeks ago.

The quickest possible glance reveals the racism in the Dewey Decimal System. We’ll use the religion section as an example. The 200s encompass all religion, nominally, although the problems with this premise are obvious. Each Dewey heading encompasses ten major subjects, dividing each up by subtopics that add digits to the end of the number. Six of the ten subjects in the 200s are explicitly for Christianity-related subjects. Three of those remaining are either explicitly or implicitly Judeo-Christian. Finally, at the bottom of the heap, the 290s cover“other” religions. Islam, Baha’ai, and Babism all get to share 297. Germanic religions get 293. All “religions of Indic origin,” in other words Hinduism, Jainism, and Buddhism, get to share 294. Hinduism gets all of 294.5 to itself. How generous!

299 covers everything else, and we’re going to focus on this bit because it’s the most glaring example of racism in the Dewey Decimal system I can think of. You see where I’m going with this: religions Dewey associated with people of color ended up with way less space than the “real” faith. Not convinced? Fine. There’s a section in the 200s just for Black people.

The entire 299.6 subdivision is for “religions originating among Black Africans and people of Black African descent.” In fact, everything about “African religion of Haitians in Haiti” can be fit into 299.6097294, according to the DDS. Because at some point, someone — for some reason — decided that Haitian religions originating from Black people were not as important as “Germanic” religions originating from white ones. If that doesn’t make you mad, then you’re probably qualified to write a cataloging system in the late 1800s.

...

Thus do people of color get lost in the Dewey system. The problem with the 200s occurs again in the 300s, where almost everything about people of color can be classed under 305.8, “Ethnic and National Groups.” Within this subheading, Germanic peoples again get a relatively clean cutter — 305.82, to be exact. Meanwhile, 305.895 covers all East and South Asian peoples. You can probably extrapolate the problems with stuffing close to two billion people with literally hundreds of different cultures, languages, and collective priorities into the cataloging equivalent of a studio apartment. Meanwhile, Greeks get the relatively roomy 305.88 all to themselves and the British get 305.82. Because of course they do.

...

But even as the effective racism of the catalog wanes, the sting remains. The racism in the Dewey Decimal System makes the prejudices and relative values of its creator abundantly clear, and to a certain extent, it’s not really a fix to work around it with technology. After all, not everyone has equal access to computers, or equal tech ability, for that matter. A messed-up shelving system still makes a difference to them just like institutional racism everywhere still makes the world a worse place. Until someone revamps the whole thing, it’ll remain a map of Dewey’s brain rather than the foundation of a truly public library.

It's so weird because you see these beliefs that people are actively practicing and believing in categorized under "mythology" which frames them as "fake". I primarily noticed it with paganism and witchcraft beliefs systems (because that's all they really gave me the option to learn in school, even though I was obsessed with learning about other cultures and other religions).

But, yeah. Sky daddy is the only real religion. Stories of Hermes stealing Apollo's cattle is a "myth".

(Actually if you ever want to laugh at the ignorance of white people, read up on the mix-up between Apollo's and Hermes' staffs in the medical industry and read up on who Hermes is. I laugh every time.)

-fae

#racism #religion #library #libraries #dewey decimal system

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1kook · 4 years

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imax & climax

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags; jk is an avid history channel viewer, jk hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, jk goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

notes; there is no rest for the wicked, aka miss 1kook writes another part for this fic i swore wasn't gonna be a series except this time we ditch the gentlemen persona and go into maximum overdrive. its not proofread bc i wrote this entire thing at 4 am last night after inhaled a whole bucket of spicy popcorn

[ part 1 ; netflix & chill ] [ part 2 ; hulu & wohoo ]

Jungkook sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Jungkook’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

“You wanted it,” you announce rather pointedly in the car. He’s backing out of the parking space now, one hand on the wheel the other pressed to the side of your seat. His jaw twitches as he tries to maneuver around a stray shopping cart someone didn’t return to the retrieval area. He’s wearing that dark jumper you like, with the high collar that covers all of last night’s bruises up wonderfully.

Jungkook scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Jungkook greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

“Please don’t ever say that again,” he laughs, pulling to a stop at the next red light. He turns to level you with an easygoing grin, sparkly anime girl eyes extra shiny under the red glow. “Only want you to tickle my pickle.”

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Doyeon swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Doyeon, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Jungkook picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Jungkook’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Jungkook invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Jungkook not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Jungkook is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Jungkookie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Jungkook was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Jungkook rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Jungkook, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Jungkook’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Jungkook apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

She leaves a little after sunset, kissing and hugging the both of you on the doorstep like she’s going off to war and will never return. She’ll be back by the weekend, desperate to check on her baby boy, but you let her have her moment. It’s weird seeing how dramatic the Jeons are compared to how reserved Jungkook is.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Jungkook’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Jungkook laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

“Give it a rest,” he says, shifting you until he’s got you hugged between those stupidly strong arms of his. His pecs feel strong and comforting beneath your cheek, and the feeling makes your tiny pouting session end earlier than usual. “Come on,” he mumbles as he manhandles you around, until your back is pressed against his chest and you’re sitting between his legs. “Let’s watch this film on Mesopotamian folklore and its overall significance to the nations it birthed after its downfall.”

——

You rarely use the key Jungkook gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Jungkook’s house were either the result of Jungkook picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Jungkook inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

Today you’re alone, juggling two boxes of takeout and some cheap wine in one hand as you fight to unlock his door. He hadn’t answered his phone, which leads you to believe he’s holed himself up again in that damn study. He likes to do that sometimes, lock himself away like some modern day Rapunzel until he finishes whatever project he has this time around. When he gets like this, it’s like all other body functions are forgotten, his brain zeroed in on the lines of code you barely understand.

Just as you suspect, the house is too dark when you finally break in. The hall light is off, which isn’t out of the norm, but so are the kitchen and living room lights. You pad down the hall, flicking on the light to the living room to set down your offerings onto the edge of the coffee table. There’s a scrambled pile of notes on top that seem too disorderly to disregard. You whirl around, making to head back out into the hall and down to the study, when you see it.

A good 90 inches mounted on his wall. It’s a monstrosity of a screen, devouring nearly the entire surface of the wall, from stainless end to stainless end. It’s ridiculously thin in the way all modern TVs are, but this one is even more so given the fact you hadn’t registered it in your peripheral when you walked in. It’s just barely short of a Jumbotron, the kind they have at baseball games to make sure you can see every nose hair on the pitcher.

His mom was going to kill him.

“Jungkook?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Jungkook had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

There’s a soft hum down the hall, the sound slipping beneath the bottom gap in the door frame. You make a beeline for the room, oddly unsettled with the huge screen. The door gives way, exposing your boyfriend’s hunched back and the blue light from his monitors that highlights his frame. “Hi, sweetie,” you begin, inching over to him.

“Hi,” he sighs, leaning back into your touch when you step behind him. His dark eyes are weary from staring at his tablet for too long, his usual tender expression melted into one of mild irritation. “Can’t figure this out,” he says, tapping his stylus against one line of absolute nerd gibberish you don’t bother trying to decipher. Maybe another day you would have entertained him, but today you cherish this moment with him knowing it might be his last before his mom comes over and kills him.

“Sounds like break time to me!” Your proclamation makes him frown, a frustrated groan pulling itself from his lips. His head droops forward again, chin touching his chest. But there’s a hint of relief in his groan that tells you all you need to know. “Baby needs a break,” you smile, pressing a peck against the back of his head.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, Kook, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Namjoon would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Jungkook goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Jungkook doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

He stretches his arms out, moaning something sinful at the way his bones pop. “It adds to the experience,” he says. “Movies are more enjoyable when the pictures are bigger; a tall aspect ratio and stadium seating really add to the experience.” He was such a nerd.

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Jungkook doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “Kook, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Jungkook’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Too bad you’re evil and determined. “No! We are watching the Princess and the Pauper and that’s final,” you exclaim, scrambling for the movie before he can hurl it out the window. He catches you by the waist, your fingers just an inch away from the pink case. “Babe!” you cry, but his fingerprints are bruising their way into your skin.

“No more Barbie movies,” he begs, yanking you back onto his lap. He does so with so much force that it makes the two of you tumble to the side, your head bouncing on the cushions as he catches himself over you. “Please.”

“I hate you,” you fuss, pointedly ignoring the tiny mole beneath his lip that drove you crazy. “We’ve seen every single thing on the History Channel this week, but we can’t watch one Barbie movie?”

Jungkook sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

“First of all, her name is Annaleise in this movie,” you correct, squirming beneath him to no avail. “Secondly, how do you think I feel when you’re eating me out while some old British dude narrates the creation of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?”

Jungkook scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Jungkook sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Jungkook crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

He doesn’t move, and you’re about to begin another tirade against his snobby movie critiquing habits when he procures a sleek, tiny remote that you would honestly mistake for an iPhone from a distance. It has, no joke, about seven buttons max, four of which are just the up and down, left and right arrows. You let out a low whistle at that. Wow. Technology sure was advancing.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Jungkook’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Jungkook quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Jungkook clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Jungkook will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Jungkook is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Jungkook has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Jungkook scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

He doesn’t let you argue, which is good, because you could make a thirty five slide PowerPoint presentation on the advantages of watching movies like this. One, your boyfriend was warm. Two, your boyfriend smelt good. Three, your boyfriend’s ripped body awoke some ancient being inside of you that would not rest until his cock was halfway down your thro—

He hauls you into his lap. The angle forces you to let him go, instead met with the jarring nothingness of having his hot body ripped away. Meanwhile he gets to wrap you up in his arms, hold you like a teddy bear to his chest. “I hate this,” you huff, but the movie is already starting, the beautiful blonde Anneliese appearing on screen. You lean back against his chest, pout still evident. “This is ridiculous,” you snort, her face blown up on this jumbo screen.

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Jungkook falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

As much as you hate to admit it, the huge screen does incite quite a thrill in you. There’s something so nostalgic about watching one of your favorite childhood movies on a screen this huge. The size showcases the sheer perfection that is every single Barbie movie. You lose yourself in the movie, singing along to the opening song and growing agitated when the antagonist appears.

Jungkook says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He lets out an indignant noise, a puff of air running along the side of your face. You ease his hands back over your stomach, taking extra care to knot your fingers with his. “We’re supposed to be breaking in your new screen,” you remind him, glancing up to catch his unimpressed expression.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Jungkook sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

The back of your mind registers the fact he was apparently trying to get a TV even bigger than this. You tuck it away for later to snitch to his mom. For now, you’d very much appreciate it if he could make you cum before the two girls perform the iconic “I Am a Girl Like You” song.

His hands are so smooth, soft skin tracing over your body like you were nothing but a slab of clay ready to be molded under his touch. He abandons your thighs to creep them under your shirt, where he wastes no time tugging the cups of your bra down to fondle your breasts.

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Jungkook laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away. His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Jungkook teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Jungkook has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

“Where do you think it should go?” he asks, the low hum of his voice snapping you out or your thoughts. There was no need to daydream about a cock that was right in front of you. His hands slow their gentle caress over you, fingers closing in on your nipples.

A sharp hiss pulls itself from your throat, chest arching as he tugs and toys with your hardened nipples. “Wh-Wherever,” you pant, reaching your own hands down back between your thighs. The phantom of his palms linger, making your hands feel sorely inadequate. “Wherever Daddy wants,” you purr, swallowing harshly when he twists a nipple.

Jungkook groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

He lifts his head to watch you play with yourself. His hands grow tight around your waist, labored breath filling the air to harmonize with your breathy moans. You’re absolutely soaking your panties, sticky arousal making the fabric stick to your folds. “You know I do,” he murmurs, watching the outline of your knuckles through the fabric of your shorts. “Thought you wanted to play nice today.” He takes in a sharp inhale when you ease your finger into yourself, a breathy moan escaping from your lips.

You were already so wet, and you’re really not surprised this is how the two of you would break in his new IMAX, high definition flatscreen. Your pussy tightens around your finger, thigh muscles jumping at the intrusion. Fuck, you needed him so bad.

You smirk, drawing your hands out from their hiding spot. The television is the only thing lighting the room, the two of you shrouded in relative darkness. At first, your hand is shadowed by the glow of the screen, nothing more than an outline. But when you turn it just right, the light catches, highlighting the glistening skin of your fingers. It makes Jungkook shudder.

Ever so slowly, you bring your fingers up to his face. The tip of your middle finger runs teasingly against his plump lower lip, his shaky exhales sending a cool breath over your knuckles. “Open, Daddy,” you encourage, watching with rapt attention as he envelopes your fingers between his lips. He sucks, tongue dancing between each digit to slurp off your juices. “Do I taste good? Do you like it?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Jungkook preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Jungkook, you always came first. Jungkook’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Jungkook was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

It was only a few weeks ago that you discovered your shared daddy kink, him obsessed with the idea of shoving you around, something he would otherwise never do. You, on the other hand, found a pleasant satisfaction from being good for him, a stark contrast from your usual sharp tongue and nonexistent filter.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Jungkook grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Jungkook’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Jungkook kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Jungkook was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Jungkook rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

“Inside please,” you whimper, knees moving back and forth, only stopping when he helps you out of your bottoms. He places his free hand on one of them, stilling your writhing to fully focus on pleasing the burning fire inside of you. “Jungkook—“

A slap against your cunt that makes you squeal. “Ah ah,” he warns, voice a low tenor against your skin. If you focus hard enough, you can feel the faint brush of a smirk against your neck. “We’re playing a different game right now, pretty girl.”

On screen, your favorite childhood movie is bearing witness to the sinful acts at your boyfriend’s hands. It shouldn’t be surprising how easily you fall into his arms, onto his lap, especially with your history of movie watching with Jungkook.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Jungkook’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

These days he was growing out of that mature persona, and you like to think it’s thanks to you. Your wildness rubbed off on him, made him confident enough to geek out in public, or be adventurous in private. It helped nourish his impulsivity, which led to things like the Super Bowl Jumbotron watching you fuck now.

Despite knowing all this, knowing the way he is, the slow grind against your ass sends a thrill of arousal up your limbs, sensations converging just beneath your mound. “Yes, Daddy,” you mewl accordingly.

Pleased with your obedience, he rewards you by circling your throbbing clit with his thumb. It’s a terribly slow motion, pad of his finger easing over your engorged bud every other second. You wanted more, needed more. You squirm beneath him, attempting to push your clit against his palm. Your efforts are in vain when he clamps a hand down on your waist. “Sit still,” he growls.

You whimper. “Need more,” you rasp out. Your whole body is acting out now, shifting and turning as you try to wiggle closer. Your mouth brushes against his jawline. The sharp angle is the first thing your muddled thoughts focus on, lips hungrily latching onto his porcelain skin to suck a purple blossom onto it.

Any other day Jungkook would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

The hand that had been exploring your nether regions suddenly snaps up, catching your chin between his fingers. The wetness that has coated his digits smears messily across your skin, and you whimper when he squishes your cheeks beneath his fingers.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

Dark chocolate eyes you’ve come to associate with love and adoration stare back at you unimpressed. His pronounced brow bone twitches, like he’s holding the true intensity of his glare back for your own sake. He slots his mouth against yours with no warning, tongue pushing its way past your lips. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a lollipop for him to suck on. It pulls a surprised moan from your lips that he swallows quickly enough, biting down on your lower lip harshly. When he pulls away, he’s got that same bored look on his face. You feel small under such a cold look, shoulders scrunching up damn near your ears in a subtle attempt to hide from him.

The action makes Jungkook scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Jungkook, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Your heart falls out of your chest. “Huh?” you whisper hoarsely, wide eyes taking in his unimpressed expression. “Knees? But Daddy,” you whine, lower lip quivering as you glance down at the hardwood floor.

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Jungkook never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Jungkook had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Jungkook gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

You look back again, eye the dark wood planks beneath you, glossed over enough to make them shine even in this weak light. “No,” you belatedly respond, slowly pushing yourself off his lap and onto your feet. Your big shirt falls back down, covers the tops of your thighs as you stand nude from the waist down. You’re tempted to just yank it down even more, hide beneath the cloth so he doesn’t have to see you whine and bitch about your knees aching.

Jungkook was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Jungkook leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Jungkook smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

A hearty sigh escapes his lips as he settles back onto the couch cushions. “Keep me entertained, will you?” You gawk, but you know it’s not a question. He reaches over for the remote to turn the volume up on the Barbie movie.

Your favorite song on the entire soundtrack is playing, almost mocking you as you shuffle closer to him. Two hands tentatively placed on his thighs as the two animated maidens flounce around the screen. He doesn’t bat a single lash your way, eyes focused on the huge screen behind you instead.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Jungkook sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Jungkook hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Jungkook doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Jungkook adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

It’ll haunt you for weeks. The image of such unimpressed eyes leveled your way because you couldn’t handle his dick will stain the insides of your eyelids. Even though he’ll brush it off, kiss you and tell you it’s fine, the inner conceited hoe in you will never let it go, will recall the memory every time your hand is under your panties.

Still, you’re terribly desperate to impress him. He was your other half, your lover, your sweetheart, your goddamn king; he deserved only the best— not some half-assed, scaredy-cat blowjob that would leave him reeling back afterwards.

With that belief and a sticky blob of spit later, you’re pushing him into your throat. It’s the first reaction you get since he’d started feeling you up, a deep, raspy groan straight from the pits of hell, that has you working even harder to swallow his cock down. “That’s it,” he pants, carding his fingers through your hair. “Good girl.”

You positively mewl under the praise, tongue growing heavy in your mouth as you swallow more and more of him down. The hard tip of his cock pulses inside, rubbing against your palate and then your throat. A gag catches in your throat, one you quickly subdue by shifting your hips.

Fuck, he was so big. Just the feeling of his cock brashly rubbing against the corners of your lips has you fantasizing about how he’ll undoubtedly stretch your pussy apart later. You moan, letting your eyes flutter shut as you try to wave those images away.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Jungkook‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Jungkook, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Jungkook finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

“Fuck,” he growls, pushing you away as he sinks back into the cushions. His chest heaves beneath the material of his t-shirt, sweat dripping down from his hairline. Normally, you’d take this opportunity to crawl back onto his lap, lick and kiss away at his body while he recovered. But truthfully, you were both still new to this whole experience so there were still the occasional lulls between actions.

Sensing your uncertainty, Jungkook tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Jungkook kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Jungkook takes your wrists in his hands.

One shapely brow is raised in your direction. “Did I say you could touch?” he murmurs, pinning your hands above your head. A gasp catches in your throat from his close proximity. You subconsciously tilt your head up, try to brush your mouth against his, only to be denied with a subtle turn of his face. “How do you want it, pretty?” he asks, releasing the tight grip around your wrists.

Immediately, you latch around his broad shoulders, fingers tracing over the muscles of his arms until they meet at the base of his neck. “However you want,” you purr, pulling him closer until your bodies are aligned, the warm heat of his frame over yours. You kiss the spot beneath his ear once before he trails his lips down.

Jungkook mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

His proposal is followed by a slow roll of his hips against your throbbing core, the same dick you had just choked on gliding along your folds. You whimper, toes curling as the pleasure washes over you. Every ridge, ever vein of his hardened cock runs along your sensitive folds, reminding you of the aching flame inside of you. “Th-That’s fine,” you pant, leg lazily thrown over his hip. His hands trail over your waist, collecting your t-shirt as they move up your body until it’s pushed over the swell of your breasts.

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Jungkook that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Jungkook smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “Kook!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

Two hands grab onto your biceps, tugging you up forcefully until your back arches, leaving you bent at a ninety degree angle before him. “Look, sweetheart,” he coos against your ear, voice deep enough that it vibrates through every bone in your body. Your breath stutters in your throat, exhilaration blossoming in your chest. “It’s your favorite movie.”

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Jungkook’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,�� you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Jungkook either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “Jungkook, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Jungkook wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, chest heaving with every slow roll of his hips. Your pussy was sopping, desperate to be filled with something. It was even worse knowing his dick was right there, just inches outside of where you need him most. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you repeat.

Jungkook chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

When he finally pops past that initial tightness, you swear you could transcend into another dimension from the absolute feeling of euphoria that washes over you. “Fuck,” you mewl, fighting against his tight hold. Your efforts are in vain, ultimately choosing to drop your head down as the ecstasy continues to wash over you with each inch he offers you.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Jungkook reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

He gives until there’s nothing left, the soft hairs around his dick tickling your lips as he reaches the hilt. “There we go,” he grunts, giving you one final tug to make sure this is as far as he can go. You squeal, the brush against your walls making you ridiculously high. “That’s my girl.”

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Jungkook’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, muscles going slack for the briefest moment. The only thing that saves you from falling over is the killer grip on your forearms; when he tugs you up his cock runs along your pulsing walls. “Please, Daddy,” you beg, mouth feeling a thousand times heavier.

“The movie,” he repeats, slowly beginning to pull away from your clenching heat. You moan. “Tell me what it’s about,” he husks, punctuating his seemingly innocent statement with a harsh snap of his hips.

You wail, stumbling forward at the intensity. Still, it’s just a taste of what he has in store for you. He soon picks a pace, not too rushed or slow, as you struggle to keep your eyes open. “I-I don’t know,” you choke out, the images flashing across the gigantic screen practically unrecognizable to your muddled thoughts.

Behind you Jungkook tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

His hips are moving fast now, every piston into your warm heat making you tremble. “Fffuck,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues ramming his cock into your pulsing hole. You’re met with a harsh yank that pulls you snugly onto his cock, your entire body screaming at the way he nudges against your cervix. Despite the pleasure it gives you, Jungkook seems anything but pleased.

“C’mon,” he huffs, twisting your arms painfully behind your back. “What did we say about that dirty mouth?” His question is followed with a snap of his hips that makes you choke on your spit. “Need you to be good for me, baby,” he groans.

“I-I am good,” you weakly defend, head hanging down limply as you fight to regain some semblance of your senses. But everything feels too much, from the rough push of his hips to the tight grip on your arms. His cock pulls out nearly all the way each time, swollen tip the only thing stopping him. Every thrust makes you quiver, every touch makes you melt.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Jungkook scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

A hand clamps around your throat suddenly, yanking you up right until his breath fans across your ear. You’re not sure when your eyes had become so teary, but the images flickering across the screen are a foggy mess you couldn’t decipher even if you tried. “__,” he rasps against your ear, his voice scratchy. “Tell me. Now.”

You whimper as he shoves his way back inside, the angry head of his cock testing you. “T-Two girls, one’s a princess,” you cry, knees wobbling as the feeling in your core grows. “They look alike, and-and…”

“And?” Jungkook asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Jungkook snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Jungkook barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “Kook— Jungkook!”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, fingers holding you tight around the waist. The coffee table you had feared cracking your skull on finally comes to use as you press your hands onto the surface in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Jungkook nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Jeon Jungkook, maybe Doyeon was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Jungkook is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Jungkook responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your Kook now.”

“My… Kook,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Jungkook chases both your second orgasms.

“Mhmm,” he groans, jostling you over his lap with no rhythm whatsoever. “Yours, baby.” You stretch your hands back, carding one set of fingers through the hair above his ear, pushing the strands away from his face. “Just like you’re mine.”

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Jungkook hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Jungkook catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

When all is said and done and you’re both basking in a post-orgasmic make-out, you realize how sweaty and icky you are. “Ugh, this is gross,” you pout as he wiggles you off his lap. He pushes you beside him, letting you flop over the length of the couch as he reaches for something to clean you up with.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

You nudge him with your foot. “I’m not the one who wanted to fuck during a Barbie movie,” you scoff, pinching the skin on his forearm when his gaze lingers a second too long on your creamy pussy. “Look somewhere else, weirdo.”

Jungkook laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don't wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

He cackles loudly now, in that evil witch way it took him a while to show you, and you know he’s got that big silly grin on his face now. . “The IMAX screen? The same one that made you,” a pause, “climax?”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Jungkook’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

What you’re not expecting is for her anger to shift to you as she scolds you for letting her idiotic son make such purchases. She gets one playful thwack against your side with the leek before your charming idiotic boyfriend swoops in to save you.

——

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #mine

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britts-galaxy-brain · 2 years

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Why are you only posting out of context screenshots? Why aren’t you posting proof that it’s really her? And why have you been sitting on this and not going to the police about it ALREADY? Stop threatening it and just do it. If these are real, children and animals are in active danger and you’re complaining on Tumblr when you could do something.

Apologies for taking so long to answer this. I've been dealing with some rough RL circumstances and didn't want to be in an emotionally charged state when I decided to speak about this. This is going to be getting into some personal details about some traumatic events I went through a couple of years before meeting Lily, which will explain where my head was at the time and why I haven't gotten serious about reporting her until now. This is not an attempt to excuse my lack of action, rather it is to give some context.

First off, why am I posting "out of context" screenshots? Because I've posted collections of huge sections of conversations with full context included, but from what I can tell, very few people have opened the links and read through them in their entirety. So I've resorted to posting screenshots relevant to certain points that come up in the discourse. As for why the Tara collection doesn't have a name attached, I've addressed this a few times since I shared them. Those screenshots come from Facebook. When a Facebook account gets deleted, all user information, including information within private messages, is deleted. The username is changed to "facebook user" and any profile picture they may have had is changed to a default. Unfortunately, Lily had already deleted the Tara Facebook account when I went back to screenshot those conversations. I've admitted that the lack of a name makes those screens more questionable, but it's the information I have to work with. Some of the conversations in that collection directly reference conversations from the Jerry/Lily conversations, as well as referencing things that were posted publicly. That's the only solid proof I have that those screens are legit. I do not have the time, mental energy, or desire to fabricate an entire collection of screenshots.

TW ahead for mentions of CSA.

Why didn't I report her when we were speaking? I had no idea how to process it. Two years before Lily and I met, the sexual molestation I'd been experiencing in my home between the ages of 12 and 14 were discovered. I'm not going to get into too much detail here unless someone specifically asks, but the long and short of it is the "justice" system completely failed me. I was looked at as some lying teenager trying to get daddy in trouble. The detective and the CPS officer I spoke to lied to my mother (or she lied to cover my dad's ass, I still have no idea what the hell happened there) about what I had told them. I was honest about the fact that no physical evidence had been left. I told them I'd never been sexually active with anyone by that point. Somehow, that got completely twisted, and I was accused of telling the CPS officer that I had a boyfriend that I was sexually active with. I was out at as a lesbian at the time. I still wrack my brain to this day trying to figure out who lied to who. Eventually, the case was dropped, my mom dropped the divorce proceedings after six months of my dad telling her who knows what to convince her to come back, and it was never spoken about again. I was forced to move back in with him until I left home at 19.

The reason I'm telling this story is to explain why I had absolutely no idea how to process what was happening. I was an entire country away, and dealing with the extreme self-doubt that comes with being sexually abused as a child and being framed as a liar on top of it. I had no idea if Lily/Jerry at the time was telling me the truth. I had doubts after a while of Tara's existence. I had no idea who I'd even contact or how, considering I had no way of making international calls at the time. And, admittedly, I was a deeply depressed, emotionally fucked person that wanted to overlook the horrific shit she was doing. I wanted to believe she genuinely cared as much as she pretended to. I have no excuse for that. I could have cut her off. I should have cut her off. But I didn't. I believed for the longest time that I was the only one she treated that way, and I internalized that as something wrong with *me*, not her. The sickest part is Lily knew everything I'd been through. I confided in her. She knew about the sexual abuse, the neglect, the physical abuse, she knew about all of it. And she preyed on it. The first time she tried to strip on vid chat with me, she claimed it was to "help me get over my fear of men". She knew, like every other one of her victims since, that I had far more doubt in myself than I would of her, and she used that. She would pepper in moments of what seemed to be genuine love, concern, and a desire to help me. Due to my upbringing, I had a much harder time discerning what was manipulative or harmful. I believe she knew this on some level, and would lovebomb me whenever she got the sense that I was pulling away from her. She knew it would work. She knew I was starved for any sort of genuine love, and she took full advantage of it.

I know better now. I know how to spot harmful behavior. I know the kind of sick, manipulative person Lily is. I first started speaking out about her in 2017 knowing that these questions would eventually come up. I knew I would be revealing that I allowed this behavior to go on. I know I supported her, and some of the ideas she's perverted for her own gains came from me. I speak out about her now mostly in an attempt to stop her from being able to cause the same sort of harm she's caused to myself and many others, and partially as a means of atonement. People need to know what kind of person Lily is, regardless of how it may make people see me. All I can say is I'm not the same person I was back then.

#lily orchard #lily peet #getting personal #tw csa

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ashleyfanfic · 3 years

Text

20 Questions: Writer’s Edition

tagged by @hot-auntie-dany and @adecila

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,982,707 - until I put in the commas, I thought it read 198k

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Jonerys (Jon/Dany - Game of Thrones) Dramione (Draco/Hermione - Harry Potter Series) Polin (Colin/Penelope - Bridgerton)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Love on the Brain - 8,730 The Dragons Dark and Deep - 4,299 Dangerous Woman - 2,703 I Am A Man On Fire, You a Violent Desire - 1,909 Legend's of Winter's Peak - 1,666

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I really do try. Sometimes, though, I get a chapter ahead of actually responding and then I forget. I read every comment I get, but sometimes I answer things in my head and I think I've answered it. Sorry!

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Man In The Box - (Dramione)

7. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

In general, all my fics have happy endings, but we'll go with Legends because of all the babies!

8. Do you write crossovers? If yes, what’s the craziest thing you’ve written?

@frostbitepandaaaaa and I wrong a Black Panther/Game of Thrones cross-over but didn't finish it called What's West of Westeros.

I also started a Thor/Game of Thrones cross-over which I meant to be just cracky fun called Thunder and Dragons.

9. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. If you'd like to take a look at the hate, see the early chapters written for Sansa and Jaime for Love on the Brain or the entire comments section of Catch Us Where We Sleep.

10. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Fic without smut... I just don't get the point. But yes, I write smut. And what kind? The smutty smutty kind. The face-sitting, spanking, hair-pulling, multiple orgasms kind.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I recall. But my memory is shit. If I have, I don't remember/know about it.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, someone translated Love on the Brain to Japanese and Russian.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

What's West of Westeros - w/@frostbitepandaaaaa

If it wasn't for my co-writer @justwandering-neverlost, I would truly have given up.

You're My Favorite - w/@justwandering-neverlost Beginning Again - w/@justwandering-neverlost Dragon's Dark and Deep - w/@justwandering-neverlost Frost and Flame - w/@justwandering-neverlost NANANANANANANANA BATMAN! - w/@justwandering-neverlost for the Adventures of Daddy Jon Rewrite the Stars - w/@justwandering-neverlost Babes in Dance Land - w/@justwandering-neverlost for The Adventures of Daddy Jon The Pig and the Pool - w/@justwandering-neverlost for The Adventures of Daddy Jon Legends of Winter's Peak - w/@justwandering-neverlost Bound to Be Together - w/@justwandering-neverlost A Thousand Years - w/@justwandering-neverlost Need You - w@justwandering-neverlost A Knife In My Heart, Couldn't Slow Me Down - w/@justwandering-neverlost

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

I have to say that Jonerys has been the one I've dedicated years to, at this point. But Dramione pulls me back in even 18 years later, so...those two.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I plan to finish them all. Stop asking.

16. What’re your writing strengths?

Dialogue. I can write it for pages and pages with no blocking and still know who's talking. Battle scenes. Something about describing death and dismemberment suits me.

17. What’re your writing weaknesses?

Aesthetics. Atmosphere. If it's not hot slutty atmosphere or we're waging war, I don't know how to tell you what the pretty room looks like. There's a chair. And they sit in it. Do you really need to know about the buttons or the high back?

18. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in fic?

Considering I don't have a firm grasp of the English language (thanks Alabama educational system), I try my damnedest to stay away from it. I think GoT is the only one I've dabbled but that's because I only make them say two or three words and not full sentences.

19. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Gambit and Rogue - X-Men

20. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

If it's a fic I've written all by my lonesome, then Love on the Brain. I remember the focus I had for that fic. Like, I've never loved writing anything as much as when I started writing that story. But that sort of changed when I started writing with other people. My favorite collab I've done is definitely Legends of Winter's Peak. This story was a true labor of love for both of us. There are times where I will actually go back and re-read chapters that we wrote and I'll just think "i'll never write anything that good again".

Tagging @justwandering-neverlost, @meisiesmut, @rizzlewrites @pensbridgrton, @frostbitepandaaaaa, @xxthewolvenstormxx @jalenmara,

Do feel free to ignore if you already did it or just don't want to x

#20 Questions: Writer’s Edition #fic asks

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bts-reveries · 4 years

Text

where’s moonji?

the most beautiful moment in life | drabble/oneshot #4

genre: fluff, family

tw: very very very light mentions of death (if you read page turner, it’s just mentioning moonji’s mom)

member(s): namjoon

a/n: THIS IS FOR YOU ANON WHO ASKED FOR NAMJOON/BYUL/MOONJI CONTENT NEXT! <3 and also thank you to @serenjiminey for this idea~

“for the drabble you could probably do something where byul and joon work on a small children’s book about the whole gang for moonji’s bday where joon writes it and byul draws the illustrations for it :)”

also since this is a drabble, i didn’t make the little story too long, but i did try my best to make it sound like a kids book! hope this fulfills your need for some content, even for just a teeny bit~

btw, namjoon’s yn is byul in the other aus (yn in page turner) -> yn here too since it’s a solo member drabble anyways :)

and lastly, none of this would make any sense to you if you haven’t read the series! here’s the link to the master list:

the most beautiful moment in life

This takes place after taehyung’s au~

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

“Mommy!” Moonji yells.

You were currently working, standing behind the counter at the library you worked at. Your eyes widened as her yell echoed throughout the quiet library. You put your finger to your lip and Namjoon puts his hand over her mouth, but instead his whole hand went over her entire face. The two walked over to you and you scanned a few more books you were entering into the system.

“Sorry,” Namjoon whispers to you as he gets closer. Moonji managed to get her dad’s hand off of her face.

“Hi,” she whispers to you, smiling widely. You couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Hi sweetie, come here,” you tell her, reaching over the counter to take her. Namjoon passes her over and you press a small kiss to her cheek, hugging her tightly. “What brings you two by?”

Namjoon looks around him as if no one can know.

“What?” You say.

He then reaches over to cover Moonji’s ears, making her whine. “Birth-day-talk,” he mouths. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape when you get what he said.

“Moonji there’s some new books over there at the kids’ section, do you want to go check it out?” You ask, Moonji furrows her eyebrows as she couldn’t hear what you were saying with Namjoon’s big hands on both sides of her head.

“Oh! Joooon~” You say, pushing his hands off of her little ears.

“Daddy and I will take you to the kids’ section okay? They have new books there,” you tell her. With this, her eyes lit up and she excitedly wiggles out of your hold and runs out of the back counter. She knew where to go as she’s been here plenty of times. You then tell your coworker that you’ll be “helping them find a book” so that she can take your spot in entering the rest of the books.

As Moonji sat on a bean bag surrounded by the new books she picked out, you and Namjoon stood by the shelves, discussing what to do for her birthday that was coming up.

This was the second year you got to be there for Moonji’s birthday. The first one being her third birthday and now she was turning four! How time flies.

Her third birthday was just a small party with the group. You and Namjoon made her a cake that day instead of getting one from Sohyun’s bakery and the two of you treated her like the princess she is. The two of you got her a couple of books that reminded you two of her. I know. Typical dad author and librarian girlfriend. But books are really special to Moonji! Namjoon has told you about how the very first thing Moonji’s mom and him bought when they were expecting, was a book for her. Moonji loved flipping through pages and looking at the pretty pictures, as she does not know how to read just yet, and also having her dad or aunt and uncles, and maybe sometimes her older cousins read to her.

So of course you had to get her a book for her birthday. She loved it anyways! But this year you were thinking of something a little different, yet the same.

“Why don’t we make a book for her?” You tell Namjoon. He tilts his head to the side.

“A book? Like write one?”

“Yes! I mean, you’re a best-selling author after all~ Why not make one for Moonji?” You look behind you to see Moonji engrossed in the book she’s holding.

“You write, I do the illustrations, what do you think?” You ask, you already had so many ideas running through your head.

Namjoon laughs at your excitement, he found it adorable, “I like it. But what would we write about?”

You think a bit to yourself, thinking about all the children’s books Moonji has read.

“We can talk about the whole group, maybe a fun, little birthday story? It’ll be cute!”

“So how do you want to do this?” Namjoon asks you. The two of you were currently in his office while Moonji was down for a nap. It’s been a few hours since you two first talked about it. You were very excited to work with your favorite author on a book!! I mean, you never imagined for it to be a children’s book, but nevertheless, you were excited!

“I don’t know, I’ve never done this before,” you tell him, staring down at your iPad. You were in charge of the illustrations, something Moonji always looked forward to whenever getting new books. “You can write first? Then I’ll draw accordingly~”

“Okay, but I’m going to need your help in writing,” Namjoon says, taking out his laptop. You giggle, leaning your head onto his arm.

“I can’t believe I’m making a book with my favorite--”

“Sttoooopp,” Namjoon laughs, nudging you off. “I would think we were over that.”

“Hey! Boyfriend or not, you’re always going to be my favorite author,” you say, laying back on his arm. Namjoon shakes his head, smiling and also giving up with you.

“Fine, you win,” he says, turning his head, placing a hand on your cheek and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But my princess’ birthday is in a few days so we really need to get started on this.”

~a few days later, the night of Moonji’s birthday~

Moonji’s party has come to an end and Namjoon and you were finally going to give her her birthday present.

“Daaadddy~” Moonji says as she was already climbing into her bed, ready for bedtime. “Where’s my present?” She pouts, looking down at her empty lap, motioning with her hands. Namjoon laughs, climbing in to sit on her bed as well, carrying Moonji onto his lap.

“Yn is getting it,” he says. “It’s from both of us and it’s full of love, you’re going to like it.” His daughter’s eyes light up as she sees you walking into her room with a gift wrapped in your hand.

“Are you excited?!” You squeal. You were very excited. More excited than Moonji herself.

“Yeah!” She laughs, jumping up and reaching out to you. You hand her the gift as you get closer.

“Here, happy birthday baby,” you say, kissing her head as you hand her the gift.

“Thank youuu~” She says, quickly ripping the wrapping apart. A small gasp comes out of her mouth when she sees the cover.

Where’s Moonji?

It said. With a cute illustration of Moonji on the front with her adorable smile and crescent eyes.

“It’s me!” She says happily.

“Daddy and I made this especially for you,” you tell her as you sit down next to Namjoon.

“Can you read it to meeee,” she says, looking up at her dad.

“Of course,” Namjoon says.

Where’s Moonji

To our little moonchild by Daddy and Yn

Today is a very special day.

What day is it today?

“Moonji’s birthday!” Moonji yells out, making the both of you laugh.

Daddy and Yn were preparing for the princess’ birthday!

Of course, they were not alone.

Where’s Uncle Jin?

Uncle Jin walked in with his kids, Minseok, Soojin, and Haneul.

Of course, Auntie Mae was right by their side.

“Where’s Moonji?” Soojin asks. Haneul wanted to find out too.

Minseok, being the oldest, knew where Moonji was.

It was still early so Moonji was still sleeping!

“Uncle Joon, can we go to Moonji’s room?” Minseok asks.

Daddy says okay.

The three ran to Moonji’s room, ready to see the birthday girl.

“Good morning Moonji!” Yells the three. Moonji stirred in her sleep, not knowing what was going on.

Haneul pouts as Moonji doesn’t wake up.

They want to say happy birthday!

“Uncle Joonie!” Yelled Haneul.

Daddy came into the room right away.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“Why I don’t wake up?” Moonji asks, looking up at you.

“Maybe because you stayed up late watching movies with daddy again,” you say, booping her nose.

“Moonji won’t wake up!” Complained the three.

Daddy tells them that she’ll be up soon.

The three then left the princess in her room.

Then Uncle Yoongi, Auntie Sohyun, and Hana came in with cake!

Moonji’s birthday cake.

Special cake that fell from (24/7) Heaven.

Hana looked for Moonji as well.

“Uncle Joonie, where’s Moonji?”

“Sleeping,” says Soojin.

“But it’s her birthday!” Argued Hana.

Will Moonji miss her party?

“No no no! Wake up!” Yelled Moonji as her dad continues to read.

“Haaaaaappppy Birthday Moonji!”

Even the loud voice of Uncle Hobi did not wake up princess Moonji.

Auntie Sarang and Huimang looked around for the birthday girl.

“Where’s Moonji?” They asked.

“Sleeping,” says Hana.

Now Uncle Jimin, Auntie Yuna, and baby Mingyu came!

Hey.

Baby Mingyu was sleeping too!

But where was Uncle Taetae? Auntie Bora? And Youngjae?

Uncle Kookie and Auntie Rina and Sian came instead.

“Moonji is STILL sleeping,” complained the kids before they can even ask.

“It’s okay,” says Yn. “Let’s decorate while we wait!”

Uncle Kookie helped blowing up balloons while Auntie Rina tied them.

Auntie Yuna put baby Mingyu down to help Uncle Jin and Uncle Yoongi with cooking!

Uncle Jimin put up streamers with Uncle Hobi.

Auntie Sarang and Auntie Mae organized the presents!

Auntie Sohyun fixed the desert table.

And Daddy and Yn were EVERYWHERE!

“I’m here!” Yelled Uncle Taetae.

Youngjae and Auntie Bora were right behind him!

“Where’s Moonji?” They all asked, presents in their hands.

“STILL SLEEPING!”

As everyone finished up with the decorations, it was time to wake up the princess.

How do you wake up a princess from their deep sleep?

“A true love’s kiss!” Moonji yelled.

“You’re right,” Namjoon tells her.

Daddy and Yn quietly walked into the princess’ room.

Both of them pressed a kiss to her cheek, instantly waking her up.

“Good morning!” They yelled.

Moonji smiles from ear to ear.

“Happy birthday princess,” Daddy says.

As Namjoon was about to close the book, you stopped him.

“Wait! There’s still a page or two left,” you tell him. Namjoon furrowed his brows as he only remembers writing until that part. You motioned for him to keep going. Moonji already flipped it before he did.

A little gasp escaped her lips and Namjoon was just as surprised.

You drew an extra page or two, adding in Moonji’s real mom.

Everyone that loves Moonji was at the party!

Uncle Jin was there. Auntie Mae and Minseok, Soojin, and Haneul!

Uncle Yoongi was there with Auntie Sohyun and Hana!

Uncle Hobi was there too! Auntie Sarang and Huimang came with.

Uncle Jimin, Auntie Yuna, and baby Mingyu too!

Uncle Taetae and Auntie Bora, with Youngjae~

Uncle Kookie was with Sian and Auntie Rina!

And of course Daddy was there with Yn.

I call her mommy.

Oh! And my real mommy was there too.

Can you see her?

You look up at Namjoon as he reads the last few lines. A tear ran down his cheek. You look down at Moonji and she was smiling, running her hand over the drawings.

Mommy was there with us. Right in our hearts.

Everyone she loves was there.

Moonji had a very happy birthday.

Now the book was really over.

“I love it!” Moonji yells with joy, throwing her hands up in the air. Namjoon wraps his arms around her, pressing kisses to her cheeks, making her giggle.

“Happy birthday again princess,” you tell her.

Namjoon then looks at you with teary eyes.

“When did you put that in there?” He asks.

“You sent me out to get it all printed and I had it made before hand. I sneakily added it in when you gave me the flash drive,” you say, smiling up at him.

“... was it okay though?” You then ask. You knew that Moonji’s birthday wasn’t the easiest day to celebrate every year considering it’s also the death anniversary of her mom. Namjoon did his best to try and not to let the bad memories of that day get to him. He still loved her of course, and will always have her in his heart. Now that he had you with his daughter, you never ever want it to seem like you were ever replacing her. You want to let them both know she’ll always be there in memory and in your hearts. You, personally, never met her, but you knew she was amazing.

“More than okay,” he tells you, pulling you in to kiss you on the forehead. “Thank you.”

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elgaberino-mcoc · 3 years

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MCOC Wishlist Blog Character Spotlight KNULL

by Marco “Prophet of Knull” Garcia ed. Other Gabe

BACKGROUND

Knull is an ancient malevolent deity whose existence predates the universe itself, and was originally content to drift through the endless abyss that existed before time.

He used his weapon, the Necrosword, to combat the Celestials who disturbed his darkness. With this sword Knull severed the head of a Celestial. That head is now Knowhere, a popularly-known Marvel location and a battle zone in the Marvel Contest of Champions Battlerealm.

Wanting an army, Knull then constructed the aliens we all know, love, and sometimes hate, the Klyntar race of gooey symbiotic aliens.¹ Later, after a debacle with the Mighty Thor, the symbiotes rebelled against their “God” and trapped him on a desolate planet, later known as Klyntar. There the God of Symbiotes waits and plans his escape, hoping to one day lay waste and bring Darkness to the universe.

“The End is near. God is coming….”

Editor’s note: the next several sections are designed to familiarize the reader with Knull’s worthiness to be featured in a video game, compared with the myriad other Marvel characters from whom Kabam could choose.

POPULARITY

Technically, Knull has been around since 2013, and appeared in Thor: God of Thunder Vol.1 #6 by Jason Aaron and Esad Ribic, as he was a shadowed figure from whom Gorr the God Butcher steals All-Black the Necrosword.

He was then revealed by name by his creators in Venom Vol. 4 #3 by Donny Cates and Ryan Stegman in 2018.

Knull has had huge fan buzz around him since his inception and his name is only getting bigger. Despite fewer than a dozen appearances initially, Knull headlined the King in Black line-wide event that began in December 2020, from the minds of Donny Cates and Ryan Stegman.

Editor’s note: Arguably named after Knull, the King in Black initial release was considered critically to be a high-stakes situation, due to the perceived hype. Its comics made regular appearances in bestseller lists after the event launched, suggesting the Knull name and story, in conjunction with the strength of his creators’ reputations, was strong enough to sell books. Overall the King in Black arc has also gotten good critical reviews.

KNULL AS MATERIAL FOR OUR MARVEL GAME

Editor’s note: these character spotlights usually explore several factors to determine whether it is reasonable to expect Kabam to seriously consider the character as a candidate for addition to Marvel Contest of Champions. Among these factors are inclusion in other similarly-marketed games, mainstreaming in comics and other media, mentions in MCOC lore, Kabam conversation, or community rumors, and pure hype among summoners.

OTHER MARVEL GAMES

Knull has been featured in other games already: first in the Spider-Man Unlimited mobile app,² then in Marvel Future Fight. In Marvel Puzzle Quest, Knull was originally only part of the backstory description of the playable Prophet Carnage character, but was eventually released in his own right in May 2021.

KNULL AND THE BATTLEREALM

Arguably no direct mention of Knull has happened in either [Marvel Contest of Champions or Marvel Realm of Champions], but it can be said he was alluded to in the motion comic that accompanied the release of Cosmic Ghost Rider and Red Goblin in October 2020.

Then, when story mode Act 7 was released in December 2020, this dialogue was revealed, which has been strongly speculated to be a reference to Knull.

CLAIM TO FAME: KNULL IN OTHER MEDIA

Knull has not enjoyed a reference in any Marvel Cinematic Universe content to date. Hel has only been mentioned in the Disney XD cartoon Spider-Man: Maximum Venom with a retelling loosely based on his comic book origins.

UNIQUE WAYS KNULL COULD FIT INTO THE MCOC META

Knull could be a massive boost (editor’s note: synergy hub) to many Symbiote champions or champions in general. I see him as a Cosmic [based on what I was told by co-creator Ryan Stegman], with massive damage. Being the creator of symbiotes, Knull could outfit any [non-#Symbiote] champ with a “Klyntar symbiote” of their own to enhance their kit or base numbers. He could also operate with #Symbiote champs similarly to the way Apocalypse enhances Mutant champs. He could also work as a counter to Symbiotes or anyone who would have ever been bonded to a Klyntar before in canon, which would include most of the Spider-Fam!

Knull’s kit could alternately introduce a #Codex tag to add to certain non-#Spiderverse Hero champs who have famously bonded to symbiotes (paging Red Hulk or even Deadpool).³

A PEEK BEHIND THE CURTAIN?

No mention of Knull ever came out of the Kabam team or anyone related to MCOC. Then again, Kabam never likes to tease big-name additions like Knull would be. Mid-September 2021, one data miner claimed that Knull is forthcoming.

WHAT DO SUMMONERS THINK?

Summoners seem to dig Knull. He was the winner of the first Tournament of Battlerealm Future, March Addness 2020, which was co-hosted by MCOC Wishlist creator Other MCOC Gabe and Unofficial MCOC Podcast veteran UMCOC Deacon on Twitter. The tournament pitted hundreds of characters against one another for votes from Summoners expressing who they would prefer to enter Marvel Contest of Champions. He cleaned house throughout most of the tournament, earning his addition to the MCOC Wishlist, where he has risen into the top 50 most wanted champions.

Due to recent ramblings by the author, and the introduction of Red Goblin to Marvel Contest of Champions, people have warmed up to the idea that Knull might actually be coming to the contest. (Even community-renowned comics expert CTMCOC agrees!)

Once below rank 250 on the MCOC Wishlist, Knull now stands as the #31 most-wanted champ, with over 550 Summoner upvotes as of this writing.

KNULL: CHAMPION BUILD IDEAS

PROBABLE CLASS

As mentioned above, Knull is a canonically cosmic entity or deity who purports to predate the universe itself. This forms a strong case for the MCOC Cosmic class of champions.

POSSIBLE ABILITIES

Like many Cosmic champs’ builds, I can see his relying on many Active Buffs with massive damage and defensive potential due to Symbiotic Armor. Perhaps as Knull collects Codices, he gets stronger and this mechanic could be used in game as persistent charges. The more Codices he gathers, the more potent his Buffs could become. He could utilize Fury, Aptitude, Armor, Cruelty, Precision, and other critical-damage-enhancing Buffs. Bleed and Armor Break Debuffs are likely as Knull breaks down his enemies with bloodthirsty ferocity.

POSSIBLE SYNERGIES

Knull's status as the God of the Klyntar could enhance all #Symbiote champions just as Apocalypse does for Mutants.

Venom could get a unique synergy called “Daddy Issues,” allowing Venom a 2% attack boost for every Buff converted on his sp2 but as passive Fury stacks. I imagine Carnage with something like a “Prophet of Knull” Synergy allowing 95% resistance to incinerate effects, allowing him to heal from Incinerates, since Carnage has no weakness to fire when he is operating as Knull’s prophet in the comics.

Knull could also be built to spend Persistent Charges to enhance #Symbiote champions in order to increase their stats and enhance their buffs.

It would also be clever to have a Synergy with Void called “Knull and Void” allowing Void access to a non-stacking Armor Break Debuff, such as on his Heavy Attack. More debuffs for Void would be devastating.

Knull could also enjoy a basic “Enemies” synergy with Thor and Silver Surfer. A great champ to release in conjunction with Knull would be Gorr the God-Butcher, a notable Thor villain, played by Christian Bale in Thor: Love and Thunder, and the other best-known wielder of All-Black the Necrosword.

•.•.•

Editor’s note: this concludes Marco’s commentary and notes on Knull as a potential champion. Anyone tracking the conversation about future champs knows that the name of Knull comes up frequently among Summoners, and his rise in every voting event in the community tends to support the notion he is greatly demanded by Summoners and would make an excellent addition to the game.

This article was originally drafted almost entirely in late 2020, and has been dug up and completed in September 2021 after MCOC Trucos released a purportedly datamined leak suggesting Knull “is Coming” to Marvel Contest of Champions in October 2021. -OG

________

NOTES 1. The Klyntar alien race is most popularly represented by Venom, and his fellow Klyntar aliens Carnage, Scream, and the other names associated with their stories of superhuman symbiosis and “Venomization.” 2. Spider-Man Unlimited was well ahead of the curve announcing Knull for a video game in 2018. It got there by virtue of attempting to release almost every noteworthy Spider- and symbiote character as playable video game characters. Knull was not yet a character most people would consider important for gaming. 3. A codex (pl. codices) is the term for the biological traces a Klyntar symbiote leaves in its host’s system after separating from that host.

#Knull #All Black the Necrosword #Klyntar #Symbiote #deity #mcoc class cosmic #cosmic entity #cosmic being #immortal #synergy hub #character spotlight #Venom rogue #Silver Surfer rogue #Thor rogue #October 2020 Recursion #Act 7 #MarcusPack16 #summoner write up #summoner guest feature

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aespawpaq · 3 years

Text

Netflix and Chill (3)

IMAX and CLIMAX

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Sunghoon gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags; sh is an avid history channel viewer, sh hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, sh goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

Sunghoon sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Sunghoon’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

Sunghoon scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Sunghoon greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Isa swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Isa, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Sunghoon picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Sunghoon’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Sunghoon invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Sunghoon not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Sunghoon is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Sunghoonie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Sunghoon was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Sunghoon rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Sunghoon, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Sunghoon’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Sunghoon apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Sunghoon’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Sunghoon laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

——

You rarely use the key Sunghoon gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Sunghoon’s house were either the result of Sunghoon picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Sunghoon inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

His mom was going to kill him.

“ Sunghoon?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Sunghoon had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, hoon, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Heeseung would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Sunghoon goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Sunghoon doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Sunghoon’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Sunghoon doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “hoon, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Sunghoon’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Sunghoon sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

Sunghoon scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Sunghoon sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Sunghoon crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Sunghoon’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Sunghoon quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Sunghoon clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Sunghoon will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Sunghoon is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Sunghoon has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Sunghoon scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Sunghoon falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

Sunghoon says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Sunghoon gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Sunghoon sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Sunghoon laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away. His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Sunghoon teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Sunghoon has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

Sunghoon groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Sunghoon preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Sunghoon, you always came first. Sunghoon’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Sunghoon was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Sunghoon grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Sunghoon’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Sunghoon kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Sunghoon was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Sunghoon rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Sunghoon’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

Any other day Sunghoon would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today… well.

You were playing a different game.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

The action makes Sunghoon scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Sunghoon, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Sunghoon never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Sunghoon had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Sunghoon gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

Sunghoon was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Sunghoon leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Sunghoon smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Sunghoon sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Sunghoon hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Sunghoon doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Sunghoon adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Sunghoon‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Sunghoon, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Sunghoon finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

Sensing your uncertainty, Sunghoon tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Sunghoon kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Sunghoon takes your wrists in his hands.

Sunghoon mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Sunghoon that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Sunghoon smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “hoon!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Sunghoon’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Sunghoon either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “ Sunghoon, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Sunghoon wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

Sunghoon chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Sunghoon reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Sunghoon’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

Behind you Sunghoon tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Sunghoon scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

“And?” Sunghoon asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Sunghoon snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Sunghoon barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “hoon— Sunghoon!”

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Sunghoon nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Park Sunghoon, maybe Isa was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Sunghoon is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Sunghoon responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your hoon now.”

“My… hoon,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Sunghoon chases both your second orgasms.

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Sunghoon hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Sunghoon catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

Sunghoon laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don’t wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Park Sunghoon,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Sunghoon’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

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champion-of-thedas · 3 years

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The Negative Character Arc of Vito Scaletta Part 2

The first act of a story is structured as exposition, meant to establish relationships, the world they live in, etc. It usually covers about the first fourth of a story. For a negative character arc, it is, naturally, the set up of the story, but it also firmly establishes the character’s Truth and Lie.

Beat 1: The Hook

The hook is important due to the way that it introduces the audience to the character’s everyday life. For a disillusionment arc specifically, it introduces how the Lie that your character believes impacts their life and creates conflict between themselves and the people around them. This is often where we come to understand the character’s Normal World (as referenced in the last part).

Vito’s hook is plain to see. We are introduced to it through the prologue and The Old Country, seeing how the idea of Vito’s Normal World and his Lie are established through his reflections on his father and how his desire for influence the like Don Carlo has develops. I won’t go to far into that particular nugget, since I did that in the introduction.

The hook extends into the first part of Home Sweet Home. We see Vito coming back to his “Normal World” after the war. Just in case it hasn’t already been established, let’s go over what the Lie and Normal World are for him. The Normal World that he lives in is one where those in the system are at the whims of those that run it, so the only way to achieve any sort of happiness is to run the system or be part of a hierarchy that runs it. For him specifically, he’s seen multiple occasions in which people that run the system can do ‘great’ things and are allowed to do them (Don Carlo). Vito’s lie is that, in order to be fulfilled, he needs to have influence, and the group he has seen the most from in that regard is the mob. This is probably more of a cultural thing (being Sicilian), but it is something nonetheless.

During his first night back, we have two examples of where Vito’s Lie impacts his normal life and creates conflict. These are the parts of Home Sweet Home that I refer to. The first incident is with Joe where there is a brief bit of tension when Vito tells Joe that he will have to go back to the war, but Joe gets him out of it. How? By using the influence that Joe has accrued in the time in which Vito was away. This particular act is important for multiple reasons, but mostly in how adult it makes Joe seem. He knows a guy, he can take care of the issue. (This will be important in the next beat). Just like that, Joe frees Vito but assures his friend that it doesn’t really make Vito beholden to him. I’m going to quickly mention it now, but Joe also goes through his own character arc in the story, a stunted positive change arc. I mean stunted, because his story cuts off before it reaches a resolution (I’m pretty sure he got “killed off” right after the midpoint/during the second pinch point aka his act two). That doesn’t really have bearing in this section, but I’ll probably mention it when it becomes relevant.

The second incident occurs basically during the entire night he spends at home, starting with the moment he is asked to pray at the table and up until his mother asks him to see Papalardo the next morning. He is seeing parts where he doesn’t fit, consistently reminded of the life is father built, the one he doesn’t want. His mother is pushing his father’s Lie on him and rejecting his own. She’s not trying to be smothering to him, but this is just how she knows the world works. It is simply too bad that it isn’t how Vito’s does.

Beat 2: The Inciting Event

In a normal story, this is the character’s call to adventure, the way the story really hits it off. For a negative character arc, it takes on another purpose. It is meant to show the first hint for our character (and the audience) that the lie is untrue. This also showcases the main conflict of the story. This hint, by the way, is meant to be subtle. It’s not supposed to hit the character in the face.

The inciting event for Vito occurs, at least in my opinion, a combination of when he wakes up and decides that he needs to get his own place and, more importantly, the moment he leaves his mama’s apartment and sees Frankie being harassed by the man their family owes money too. Yes it does blend in a bit with the hook, but storytelling is rarely cut and dry. Keep in mind that Vito left for war a teenager and came back as a young man; seeing his childhood room is a stark reminder for this and pushes him towards the idea that he needs to be an adult and live on his own. Remember how earlier I said that Joe seemed like an adult? A hallmark of maturity (at least where I live) is being able to take care of problems by yourself: scheduling your first doctor appointment, doing your taxes for the first time, having your own place, etc. etc. Joe was able to make Vito’s obligation to the government to go away and allow him to go home, a very different Joe than the one that Vito left and in direct contrast to his father that probably couldn’t rub two pennies together. Yes, I am comparing Joe to Vito’s father, no it’s not about Daddy issues. I mean, it is. But it isn’t? Let’s move on. Anyway, this means that Joe knows what Vito has to do to be an adult, one that isn’t stuck in his mother’s house and working for the man his father worked for.

And then he is spurred into further action when he sees Frankie being hassled about the money that their father owes. This reinforces the Normal World for Vito, as his father took out a lot of money and now his surviving family is stuck paying it back for him, but also gives him the opportunity to be the adult and prove his father’s Lie wrong. His father with all of his hard work had to borrow money from these people, but now Vito was going to use his way to not only pay back the money the Scalettas owed, but also get more money and become independent.

Beat 3: The First Plot Point

This is the first real consequential choice the character makes to show them that their old ways are ineffective. This is what leads the character into the next act and is the threshold the character crosses that prevents the rest of the story from taking place. Now, they will not see the consequences of this act at first, but it will show itself later.

For Vito, this one is interesting. It could be argued that the rest of Home Sweet Home qualifies as this as it is Joe introducing Vito into the world of the rest of the game, but BUT, I disagree. Honestly, I think it sort of works in as the hook and inciting incident in a way. The only reason this part is probably WHERE it is is because of tutorial reasons. I’m not saying that it doesn’t make sense, but there is a more thematic and appropriate moment coming that fits this act better: going to see Papalardo and what occurs on the docks in Enemy of the State.

Even after going to see Joe, Vito still agrees to go see Papalardo and try and work at the docks for his mama. He’s stuck in this liminal space where he’s not truly embraced his Lie yet, but it’s still there lingering. So, he goes to see Papalardo (from this moment on he will be called Derek) and gets a job moving crates for him. After some time, he makes his choice and refuses to move another crate (I think I only managed about five in my playthrough before he just stopped). Steve comes to see what the fuss is and Vito tells him off before using Joe’s influence inadvertently and getting a better paying job, one that he likes better too, out of it. His choice, both to stop working the warehouse job and to take Steve up on a job that is explicitly exploiting the regular workers there, is the first plot point and one that will come back around in the third act.

#vito scaletta #Mafia II #Mafia 2 #mafia remake #character analysis #mafia fandom stuff #bombed my first exam so i made this as self-care #yay

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adenei · 3 years

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Auror 99 - Chapter 10

You can find the whole story on AO3 or FFN

Curveball

Hermione’s plan had come to fruition quite easily with Amy helping. Harry and Ron had spent the past couple of days in the records office trying to gather information and possible evidence. They’d contacted Kingsley to get clearance without having to sign in and risk blowing both their real and fake covers.

Meanwhile, Jake and Charles had been placed on stakeout duty outside the Woolworth building. This time, though, they weren’t looking for a specific person, but some other type of consistency. Perhaps someone entering or exiting the building at the same time every day, or whether there were similarities in people’s gaits with their walk. Hermione and Amy had researched possible ways to imitate a person, and, with the trio’s past use of Polyjuice, they had more ideas of what to look for. Rosa was still stationed on surveillance duty, so she was monitoring the surrounding blocks for any sudden appearances. Sometimes she, Charles and Jake would switch around their duties to not get caught up in the monotony.

What Ron and Harry had found the next day was a similarity in times on the main sign in sheet for the Wand Records Office, but it was always a different name. The names were always male, so if it was Gerteso posing as other people, it narrowed the search for who the 99 was looking for. Once in the Wand Records Office, the second sign-in indicated that Gerteso was searching wand records between 1993 and 1998, but the rows varied. It looked as if Gerteso had been tackling about five rows a day, and was a week in.

He typically only spent about forty five minutes searching each day to not arouse suspicion, and he didn’t go in order when searching the rows. Gerteso clearly planned everything out to minimize suspicions. The first day Harry and Ron were investigating, they split up the rows between them.

It was a small records office, the rows weren’t very long, and the shelves were only four rows high. The years were labeled at the ends of the rows and indicated the record holder’s school age entrance year. Records were kept in manilla folders that had stickers on the end with letters. The first two appeared to be the first and last initial, and most folders only had two stickers, but some had three or four. So Harry and Ron decided to decipher the labeling system first to see if they could save time.

“How in the world does he get through five rows each day? There must be at least a hundred records to sift through on each shelf!” Harry said as he was looking down the row.

“Maybe there’s a classification system with the letters that makes it easier for him to look.” Ron suggested. He scanned the row he was currently scanning. “Americans certainly go through a lot of wands, don’t they? This one person has had at least five, and their Ilvermorny start was in ‘93!” He shook his head in disbelief.

“Guess they’re more careless than we are, or more interested in power and status. Who knows.” Harry was silent for a bit before he said, “Hey Ron, I think the third letter is the married name for those witches.”

“I think you’re right, Harry,” Ron said as he handled a folder himself. “Black and white lettering for first and last name, blue and white lettering for married name, yeah?”

“Yeah, now let’s look for-” Harry cut himself off as they heard a door open.

Ron checked his watch and knew it was close to that time. He pointed at his watch, and then the end of the row. Harry grabbed the invisibility cloak from inside his pocket and put it on while Ron made his way to an area in the shelves where the newcomer wouldn’t find him. He double checked that his phone was on silent, and opened it to send a text message to Jake and Charles. He’s here.

Jake responded fairly quickly. Harry texted Charles. He’s going to give us a description to work off of so when he comes back out we can trail him to see where he goes.

Brilliant, Ron sent back before switching his contacts to Hermione.

Her response was a bit less stealth. Omg. He’s there? Are you going to apprehend him?

Not yet.

Well, why not? Isn’t that the whole reason you’re there???

Ron rolled his eyes. He was once again reminded why Hermione wasn’t an Auror. Hermione, we don’t know for certain that it’s him. Plus, we need to be sure we know what he’s after to have enough evidence. It’d look pretty bad if we arrested the wrong guy and then spooked Gerteso.

Ugh, fine.

While we’re waiting, have you found any more on The Cryptic yet?

OH! Yes, actually. Amy is going to send you a couple files now. It may actually help us narrow it down.

As Ron was reading Hermione’s text, he saw the drop down notification from Amy and clicked on it. There were three links to articles. He clicked on the first one. Apparently one of the street names The Cryptic goes by is Francesco Martini. At least that was his good samaritan name.

He was the youngest philanthropist New York has seen in decades, only 28. It was an article about how he donates thousands of dollars to help orphaned children, both magical and non-magical. He even takes some of the kids into his home, almost like that Daddy Warbucks in that muggle movie Hermione had made him watch once.

Hmm, I wonder if that’s a cover to better assess kids for the squib trafficking. Ron texted Amy.

I was thinking the same thing. Everything we’ve found on Francesco Martini is pretty solid and checks out, though. He’s careful with his aliases. Plus, he’s only ever seen in pictures by this name, so whoever his true identity is, he keeps that locked up tight.

Merlin, how does she text so fast? Ron thought. He moved onto the other articles she sent to pass the time. The first thing he’d do once Gerteso left would be to double check the name Martini, happy to have a solid plan for once.

The last article was still open on his phone when he noticed something about Martini’s picture. Why didn’t it look the same as the other article. Ron quickly toggled back and forth. Bloody hell, he thought as he opened the text thread for Hermione.

Check those images on the articles of Martini, and tell me if you notice anything. He sent the text and waited a few moments. Sure, the years were two apart, but he was vastly different. Almost as if a beauty charm was used on the more recent article. In the older one he looked like-. His thought was cut off as Hermione’s text came through.

It doesn’t look like the same person, even though he’s labeled as Francesco Martini. That’s odd. I’m having Amy cross reference to see if we get any more image hits.

Notice anything else? Ron sent back.

The older image looks like someone I’ve seen before.

Like Gerteso.

Oh, my... YES, RON THAT’S RIGHT! Ron nodded as he read Hermione’s message.

There are some differences, though.

You don’t think they could be brothers, do you? That could fit the whole taking what’s rightfully his.

Maybe even closer than that.

TWINS? But how…

I don’t know. I’ll search both names, Ron sent the last text to her as he heard a door shut. Harry texted.

He’s leaving, but don’t come out yet. I want to be sure. I’m texting Jake and Charles to make sure he doesn’t see them following him, and not to engage. They’ll meet us back at headquarters.

They waited a good five minutes before they received word from Charles that Gerteso had left the Woolworth building. When Harry told him it was safe, Ron quickly showed him what Hermione and Amy had found and where he wanted to look.

“But that wouldn’t make sense, I trailed him the entire time he was here. He didn’t search the rows he wrote down in the log book, either, Ron. He stayed in the G section of 1998.”

“I think they’re brothers Harry, and if Martini is an alias, then of course Gerteso would be looking in G. Let’s just check the M1998 section.” Harry nodded reluctantly as they quickly found it.

“There’s no Martini here, Ron,” Harry said impatiently, but Ron didn’t move.

He stood there, thinking hard. “What did Kingsley say about the Sanguinity connection with The Cryptic?”

“Just that the Sanguinity named him head of the New York Division,” Harry said, scratching his head.

“He’s 28, Harry. Very young. There’s got to be something special about him.”

“Or maybe they couldn’t find a suitable leader in New York and sent him here,” Harry said half jokingly.

Ron looked up at him. “That’s it! Harry, you’re brilliant!” He immediately began moving to the end of the aisle.

“What? I was only-”

“But what if he was sent here? From Italy? Do they have immigrant records?”

“Er, yeah on the other side of the floor.”

“What are we waiting for?” Ron hurried to the immigration record area and searched for Martini. It didn’t take long to find one singular match in 1998. “Bloody hell,” Ron muttered as they grabbed the file.

He opened it as Harry looked over his shoulder, and sure enough, there was a picture of a boy who closely resembled a younger version of the man who Ron had seen in the article. It turned out Martini was indeed an alias.

“So The Cryptic’s real name is Lorenzo Guarnieri?” Harry asked quietly.

“Looks like it. Let’s take pictures of all this so we can take it back to the team.” Ron handed Harry the folder as he reached for his phone.

As Ron was taking the pictures, Harry continued studying the document. When it came across familial relations, Harry drew a sharp breath in. “Whoa.”

“What?” asked Ron.

“I think you might be right about the brother hunch, mate.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Ron asked curiously.

“Because it says so right here. A twin brother, who was older, but presumed dead. Leonardo Guarnieri.”

Ron looked up at Harry and both men had the same thought at the same time. “Gerteso.”

#harry potter au #hp/b99 crossover #brooklyn 99 au

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cassieceeart · 3 years

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Final Concept with MoodBoards....

For my final concept I decided to create a narrative based on the life of a fictional character that experiences racial hatred and discrimination throughout their entire life.

The final concept tells the story of ‘Amoy, a young black girl born to Jamaican parents, Trevor and Doreen. Amoy’s parents originally moved from Jamaica to the Uk (Birmingham) in the late 1960s as they strived for a better life, in the country whose roads were paved in gold. Doreen fell pregnant in September 1974 and would later give birth to little Amoy on April 26th1975.

Amoy was a happy child; her home life was filled with love, joy and laughter. Her parents worked hard and always tried their best to teach their daughter how to always do the right thing in life, even if she felt like the outcome wasn’t fair. They knew of the struggles that existed outside the comfort of their little haven and would spend time trying to prepare their little girl for what was yet to come. Amoy would only really experience the harsh realities of the world when she started school in 1981.

To show specific events in Amoy’s life I decided to split the gallery space into 6 areas; consisting of 5 stages and one visual post (area 6).

The main section (area 1) would host the Benjamin Zephaniah typewriter, which would type the narrative live with a supporting voiceover. Information about the typewriter and its origin would be located just outside the gallery to give it context so that the audience could read about it before they are welcomed in.

The audience would be invited to view 4 key moments in Amoy’s life that represent and ultimately steer the direction and choices she would later make. I decided to capture each moment through collage.

Collage for area 2

Playground setting - The innocence of a child – 1981 (Age 5)

Amoy attends a predominantly white school. Very few kids look like her.

The audience will gather round and view footage of conversations between children based on racial hatred. Examples of content “My mom said I can’t play with you because you don’t look like me”, “My daddy said that all colored people are monkeys”, “My grandad use to own your grandad” etc.……

The screen would then go blank and a projection of a school classroom would take its place. The stage area will light up and the audience will see a school playground setting with a figure of Amoy stood crying. Audio of kids playing and Amoy’s thoughts at that time would play (similar to monologue without the actor).

Collage for area 3

The Den – 1991 (Age 16)

It’s the end of the academic year and Amoy has finally left school with good grades. Her overall opinion of school isn’t great. She always tried her best and always submitted her work on time but unfortunately found that she was having to defend herself constantly as she was consistently singled out for petty reasons. Her teachers didn’t like her but she knew that in order to get through school, she had to keep her head down. This discrimination against her ultimately led to her meeting more kids like herself. They were labelled ‘The colored kids’ aka ‘The trouble makers. The Den is a place where Amoy and her friends would go and hang out when they wanted to forget about the harsh realities of the world. It was a place where they would go to chill and vent and just be themselves.

The audience will gather round and view footage of conversations between Amoy and her peers as they talk about their experiences in and outside of school. The screen will go blank and will be replaced with a projection of nature/trees, so that it looks as though they are in a secret den. The stage area will light up to reveal the inside of the den with a seated figure of Amoy. Audio of her thoughts in that moment will play.

Collage for area 4

The Stephen Laurence Inquiry Protests – 1998 (Age 23)

2 years after Amoy left school came the unfortunate death of teenager Stephen Lawrence in April 1993, who was murdered in a racially motivated attack, whilst waiting for a bus. The black community were absolutely outraged with how the police handled the situation. Amoy and her friends were equally disgusted and disturbed. At this point they are really fed up with the prejudices, discrimination and injustices of the world. They just wanted to be treated equally for once. They decide to travel to London to attend the protests as they seek justice for a fellow peer; and to ultimately see some positive change to police systems.

The audience will gather round to view footage from the protests. The screen will go blank and will be replaced with a projection of crowds from the protests. The stage area will light up and the audience will see a figure of Amoy protesting. Audio of her thoughts will play in that moment along with the sounds of busy crowds.

Collage for area 5

Case of mistaken identity – 2000 (Age 25)

Its 2 years since the protests, Amoy is out celebrating a friend’s birthday. An altercation breaks out between two females who are not associated with the celebrations, which escalates quickly. The police are called because a member of the public claims to have seen a weapon. Sirens are heard and a loud bang follows.

The audience gather round for the final scene. They view footage of Amoy and her friends celebrating and watch as the altercation between the two unknown females escalate. When the sirens are heard, the crowd of people disperse and that’s when the ‘bang is heard. The screen goes black, then the stage lights slowly come up to reveal a slumped figure of Amoy on the floor. Flashing emergency services lights illuminate the set. Audio of her thoughts and sad music will play as the life drains from her body.

I wanted to get the audience to experience the same emotions many families go through in the BAME community. Too many young lives are lost in unjust ways. Too many BAME lives are lost for unjust reasons. Real positive change can only happen when people wake up and unite. The fight isn’t for war … The fight is for Equality

United we stand,

Divided we fall.

#final concept #ideas #project #exhibition design #bmag

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themarydragon · 4 years

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My Chainsaws

I didn’t write a word of fiction in two years. The metaphor we use at my house is Juggling Chainsaws. I am mostly in control of my life. A lot of what’s happening is full-on terrible, and it’s very very hard to manage. Imagine juggling chainsaws. It takes every ounce of your focus. “Why don’t you ask for help?” They’re chainsaws, for fuck’s sake, it’s nothing I can just lob at passersby.

So lemme tell you about my chainsaws.

First and foremost, I went back to school. Grad school! I’m a little over 2/3 done with my MSN - a Master’s in Nursing. My focus is on Global Public Health and whoo boy what insane timing the pandemic had for my class. Wow. But full time grad school isn’t anything I can get help with, really, so it was 100% my problem. If it were JUST grad school, I would still have been able to write between semesters and during holidays.

I have mentioned in a few places that my dad was diagnosed with cancer in November of 2017. He had surgery to remove it and was declared cancer free. That June was my 10th wedding anniversary, and my husband & I renewed our vows. Dad came out to see us (I live 1600 miles away, on the coast; Dad’s in my Midwest home town) and spent a week at my house for the first time since my wedding. (To be fair, his ex-wife lived here the last time he visited... he got a hotel). A month later, he went in for a routine check and they found spots on his liver. Metastatic adenocarcinoma. He had an entire lobe of his liver removed - the incision did not heal properly and herniated at one end, affecting his ability to heal. He had a port put in and started chemo. I spent as much time with him as I could. I remember sitting at his bedside, laptop out, trying to write and just... nothing came out. But! My daddy’s a badass and my stepmother is a rockstar and he had me advocating him as hard as I could - and lemme tell you I will shit all over a doctor if I need to, I don’t care if he’s a full bird colonel. Dad survived ten rounds of a really strong chemo and he’s been cancer-free for a year now. The day we got his very first post-chemo scan result, I was standing next to my mother’s bed in the ICU. She’d texted me “help” at 2:30 in the morning, the night after her birthday. I called 911, raced to her house, beat the EMS to her door, and found her on her couch in her living room. We had her at the hospital by 3:30, in the Cath lab at a quarter ‘til 5, and off oxygen & asking to go home by 1 that afternoon. She’d survived a STEMI - the “big one”, the heart attack generally called a widowmaker. I went from helping my dad navigate American medicine directly into helping my mother recover from something with a 4 or 6% survival rate.

Did I mention that was on her birthday? It was April. In July, my brother (by choice, but my parents both agreed to my adoption of him) who lives with us finally hit rock bottom. I spent another night in the emergency room, this time getting him admitted to an inpatient facility to prevent him from taking his life. If I didn’t hate American Medicine by then, that tipped me over. We’d been trying to find him help for YEARS, but insurance doesn’t do you any good if nobody takes it, and the people who DO take it aren’t taking new clients. HIs inpatient admission got him a prescribing provider and a fucking therapist, at long last, and he was finally starting to get some enjoyment out of life.

Until December the 28th, when his beloved brother Brandon was killed in a freak work accident. That one still hurts too much to write much about. We still don’t have his death certificate (fuck you, OSHA) or his goddamn ashes and not one drop of closure.

Adding injury to injury, my husband’s service dog, Dango, reached the end of his life in early February. I’d been essentially running hospice for him for 14 months; he got medication at least 4 and sometimes 8 times a day, as I continuously tweaked his care to keep him as comfortable as I could for as long as he still enjoyed life. The day he didn’t know who his Dad was anymore was his last day. Luckily, it was the first sunny day this spring, and he got one last nap in a sunbeam on the deck. We’re not done grieving that loss yet, either.

And then, did you hear there is a pandemic? Let me tell you, it is a HELL of a time to be a nurse. It is INSANE being a nursing *student* right now. Luckily, the facility where I work closed within a week of public schools closing, and we’ve had all our kids in more or less quarantine since then... My boss’ father died of COVID, so our organization hasn’t escaped untouched, but so far all our staff and all our kids are OK. And, since I’m the per diem, I’m not working and I’m not getting paid. My husband owns a small retail store - no work for him either. Both my parents are high risk... but they both work in medical-adjacent fields (Dad works for Big Pharma, Mom works for Huge Name Health Insurance) so they’re being taken care of. Dad’s home-with-pay and my mom’s been working from home since March 4.

My semester wrapped, my parents are home safe, my husband & I are home safe, I’m literally trained to go into infectious situations and come out clean, so my weekly shopping trips are as low risk as possible... and the boys are waiting for me with bleach solution and box cutters, to clean what can’t be unpackaged before bringing it into the house.

So what do I with my sudden time?

First, I fucking deal with all this crap. Holy shit. I spent two weeks just sleeping and playing Animal Crossing and trying to take care of myself and clearing out the Grief Backlog. I bought Tevinter Nights and it was the first book I’d read for enjoyment in longer than I care to admit. And then, three days ago... I started to write.

I finished Steel Your Heart. I churned out 15k words in three sittings, and finally sealed the gaps between all the sections I had written. I am going to start posting again once AO3′s email system is fixed so my subscribers know WTF is happening. And then I’m going to try to take this momentum and turn it towards the other delinquent WIPs that I’ve been gnawing on unproductively for two years.

I can’t promise my life will stay calm, and I will be able to keep writing. It is the nature of life - it is only a matter of time before somebody tosses me another chainsaw. But I’m out of school until September... so let’s see how far I can get before something tries to stop me.

#real life #update #fanfic #fanfic writer #TW: cancer #TW: suicide #TW: death

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chaossmagic · 4 years

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take me into your loving arms (2/2)

kiss me under the light of a thousand stars

Over the years, throughout the many ups and downs, one thing has always remained true; they feel safest and most at home in each other’s arms. They wouldn’t have it any other way.

A study in snuggles, physical closeness, and the non-sexual side of intimacy that Robert and Aaron both crave from each other.

(read on ao3)

iv.

When the bedsheets stopped smelling like Robert, Aaron slept in his dressing down, the thick quilted blue one that was so long, it hung down almost to his ankles. It was warm, and it had had Robert’s shower-fresh or sleep-tired skin next to it last, and if Aaron really tried, he could still smell the scent of aftershave and moisturizer on the collar of it. It was like having Robert himself wrap his arms around him in bed, holding him close, and it lulled him to sleep if he concentrated long enough on the memory.

Next, it was Robert’s old jumpers, the ones he couldn’t bear to throw out even though he’d had a hissy fit initially and swore to throw everything in the bin. An old, bobbly grey thing that was too small for him now but fit Aaron like a glove, and the sleeves so long he could cover his hands with them entirely, tucking them under his chin like Seb did when he slept in his cot, curled in on his side like a kitten.

Then, when that no longer satisfied him or made the pain left behind in Robert’s absence dull and bearable, he resorted to sleeping in Robert’s leather jacket, the shoulders too wide and the torso too long but still feeling like a warm cocoon of an embrace that might have been from his husband himself, if were there to give it to him.

It was close enough. It was all Aaron could manage to conjure up, thinking of Robert alone in a washed-out grey cell hundreds of miles away, and he hadn’t even had the guts to talk to him and tell him what was going on inside his head before he’d sobbed in his arms on the last day they’d ever seen each other, begged him not to forget him and sent him a divorce letter in the mail.

He missed him. He missed him so much it was like he had a permanent stomachache, always there in the background of everything he did. It was a physical throbbing that was left behind when part of himself, of who he was, had been torn away and was now unreachable. Robert had gone where Aaron couldn’t follow him, help him, or hold his hand and tell him things were going to be okay - all things he would have done, things he’d have done gladly and with honour, because Robert was his husband and it would have been his privilege to take care of him.

Like Robert had taken care of him, all these years.

He didn’t care if Robert didn’t think he deserved it. He’d do it regardless, because that was what you did when you loved someone as much as Aaron loved Robert, and if he didn’t, he’d be letting the man he loved down.

But he’d never gotten that chance.

And now everything was only parts of half a life, because Aaron was only half a person without him.

Robert was warm, steady and heavy against him, his breaths a calming wave of sound and sensation as Aaron let himself sink further into the sofa, stretching out a little so that Robert could lay his head more comfortably where it was pillowed on his stomach. It was softer now, with age and needing to take things steady - Aaron was softer and greyer all over now, a semi-permanent ache in his shoulders that he was told was early onset arthritis - but Robert didn’t seem to care. He was happy as a cat dozing on its favourite chair, hands curled in Aaron’s jumper and eyelids fluttering with half-sleep.

And to think, Aaron had almost never got to experience this again, this physical closeness that had always characterised him and Robert, the way each other’s presence always seemed to gravitate towards one another even if the room was full of people and the way things just felt...normal when he was there. Right. Easy. The way things were always supposed to be.

It had been almost eight years, but the feeling was the same. Home.

“I missed you so much, before,” Aaron said absently, stroking up and down Robert’s shoulder in a random rhythm, “I missed having you close, just holdin’ ya like this. Probably the thing I missed the most, really. Missed having your body next to mine, simple stuff. Cuddlin’ watchin’ crap telly, a goodnight kiss, a hug before you left for work in the mornin’...”

“I’m sorry,” Robert whispered. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to give you all of that. I missed doing all of those things with you, too, and remembering them, how it was...on the worst days, it’s what kept me going. The memory of you. How it used to feel before I threw a spanner in the works of everything good we had going for us.”

“Robert, don’t say that,” Aaron pleaded. “You didn’t mess everything up, okay? It was more like...a break forced on us by stuff outside of our control. And we both did things we shouldn’t have, alright? I’m as much to blame as you are, maybe more because I didn’t try hard enough to knock some sense into ya when you thought cutting us all off was a good idea.”

“What, you would have picketed the prison until I had no choice but to talk to you?” Robert asked, a glimmer of humour in his voice. Aaron had missed that, the sarcasm, the amusement at his own little jokes that was both incredibly nerdy and incredibly endearing.

“Maybe. Camped out, even played that stupid Adele song over and over on a loudspeaker if it meant you’d come and see what all the fuss was about.”

“It’s our song!” Robert huffed indignantly, “We have a song, Aaron, however much you want to ignore that we do.” He went quiet, then spoke again, voice small and soft. “I heard it, once, in the prison. One of the officers had a radio in reception and it came on. It was faint, but I heard it, and it was like...it was our wedding day all over again, and you were dancin’ in my arms even though you said you weren’t...I hadn’t felt that happy since before I went inside, that day when I heard our song. It brought me so much peace, but I also ended up a right mess after it. I refused meals for two days, till I was so dizzy I couldn’t stand up straight, and it reminded me of where I was and what the reality of the situation was really.”

“Robert,” Aaron gasped, his body tensing. His hand froze where he continued to stroke Robert’s arm lovingly, the fingers trembling. His voice came out strangled when he spoke. “No. Please tell me you didn’t do that on purpose more than once...the idea of you hurtin’ yourself the way I did...”

“It happened for a few months,” Robert admitted, “until I ended up losing enough weight for prison welfare to notice, and I got sent to a psychiatrist. Beatrice. She said I was a lost cause. She wanted to section me.”

Aaron made a low moan of pain that sounded like a wounded animal; it tore from his chest, animalistic and anguished, and foreign to his own ears even as he made the sound. Horror seemed to fill up every inch of space his body possessed; the idea of someone taking Robert, his Robert, broken and vulnerable and suffering, and locking him away in a sterile hospital because they thought he was mad...

It was unthinkable. Unbearable.

“Stupid useless prison system,” Aaron ground out between clenched teeth, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m so sorry, Robert. If I’d been able to help ya...I’d never let them lock you away like that, I’d’ve done anything I could to get ya the right help...”

“I know,” Robert said softly. “I know you would have, Aaron.” He turned over then, looking up at him with huge, shining eyes, the colour of which Aaron had memorized down to the last specks of green and gold. It had been easy, because Robert’s eyes had been copied exactly into the face of their son, whom Aaron adored more than most anything else other than Robert himself. “I really, really missed you.”

A soft, gentle smile crossed Aaron’s face. Easy and content. “I really, really missed you, too.”

vi.

“Daddy,” a small voice said, a sharp little finger poking him in the cheek. “Daddy, Seb and Papa fell back to sleep and they’re snoring. It’s too loud.”

Robert blearily opened one eye, saw the scrunched-up face of his daughter looking back at him, her lips turned down in a pout. “Is that so?”

Ellie nodded emphatically. “Like Uncle Sam’s pigs. Oink oink oink,” she giggled, “Papa and Seb are like the three little pigs from the story!”

“Mmm, I suppose they are,” Robert mused, lifting his head up from his pillow to look over to the other side of the bed, where indeed his husband and their fourteen-year-old son were fast asleep - again - Aaron’s mouth open in rumbling snores while Seb snuffled and snorted, his strawberry-blond head resting against his father’s dark one. They were like two peas in a pod, Robert often thought, Aaron and Seb, like twins almost. He bit back a wide smile at the sight, how warm it made him feel in his chest. His husband, his son, and his daughter pressed in close to his side, four of them piled into their bed early in the morning on a lazy Sunday. His family.

“Daddy?” Ellie asked, her little hand reaching up to touch the side of his face, his cheekbone. “Why do you look like you’re sad?”

Robert shook his head, took his daughter’s hand and kissed the middle of her palm, inhaling the sweet baby-pink scent of her skin and fixing her with a steady gaze that was as serious as he could manage. “I’m not, princess. I’m happy. You remember how daddy had to go away for a long time before you were born, and that made him really sad?”

Ellie nodded. She’d been told the story before, the abridged version of her parents’ history, so that she’d understand why sometimes his moods changed or why he wanted to sleep all day or had to take special pills she wasn’t allowed to touch, pills that made him better so he could be with them.

“Well, now I have your Papa, and Seb and you, and thinking about the time when I didn’t have those things is hard, and when I look at all of you,” he pulled lightly on one of her curls, frizzy and wild so like Aaron’s, “I remember how lucky I am that I have such special people to look after me.”

“Like Papa looks after you, ‘cause you’re husbands,” Ellie said, pronouncing the word husbands carefully, the extra ‘s’ making it difficult with her baby teeth and slight lisp.

Robert looked at Aaron again; he’d shifted, one arm slung around Seb’s rising and falling chest. When he woke up, he was sure Seb was going to be mortified. He chuckled to himself.

“So, what should we do, Eleanor?” Robert asked her pensively, turning onto his stomach and resting his chin on top of folded hands. “Wait for them to wake up, or...” he raised an eyebrow, “pancakes with extra cream and strawberries just for the two of us?”

“Pancakes!” Ellie crowed, wriggling like a worm under the duvet, bare feet kicking with glee. If Seb had somehow inherited Aaron’s scowl, then Ellie had got Robert’s sweet tooth. Aaron blamed it on all the times he’d found him and their surrogate inhaling a packet of chocolate digestives between them, one claiming it was ‘stress eating’, the other indulging her hormones going rampant for sugar in her sixth month of pregnancy.

Only one of those reasons was deemed as valid.

“C’mon, then, little squirt,” Robert said, using the old nickname she’d had as a baby, swinging himself out of bed and swooping to put Ellie on his hip, where she grabbed onto the collar of his pyjamas and grinned like a cat who got the cream. “We might leave the sleepyheads some toast when they eventually wake up, yeah?”

“Yeah!” she agreed.

Robert carried her towards the door; when he reached it and pushed it open gently, he turned back for a minute to take another look at Aaron and Seb, still dead to the world. Ellie pressed her cheek against his neck, her curly hair tickling him where it sprung out in various directions.

“I love you, Daddy,” she whispered suddenly, her little voice loud in the quiet of the room. Robert pressed a kiss to her head, still gazing upon Aaron and Seb, his whole world and his pride and joy, and the soft warmth of the most precious thing in the world heavy in his arms. There was a reason why they’d given her the middle name Hope, and for Robert, she lived up to it every day - her, and the rest of his family, and the second - third - chance he thought he’d never get.

Home, he thought. This is my home. And I will cherish it forever.

#lorna's writing #robron #robron fic #aaron x robert #emmerdale fic

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