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deathbecomesthem · 4 days

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Kiss the Cook 4 | 2.3K

linecook!Eddie Munson x server!reader

Summary: It's just you and Eddie working on a lazy Wednesday morning. Until an unexpected guest throws a wrench in the gears.

A/N: This might seem a little out of place in this current series, but it's an older piece I wrote many moons ago. Based on a mostly true Thanatos server experience.

As usual, you leave the cream colored coffee mug at the prep station next to the fruit cup that Eddie’s prepared for you. His back is still turned, he’s throwing down a case of bacon to fry off before opening. This time of the day, his clothes are clean and fresh and his hair is still damp from his morning shower. His hair is pulled up in a bun that sits a little higher than normal, and it gives you a good view of the fine hairs at the back of his neck. Little soft curls that cling to his skin just above the place where his shoulders work underneath his crisp white shirt.

The tattoo there has always been something that you’ve noticed, but you’ve never gotten the chance to really see it until now. It’s a sword, the hilt of which can barely be seen through the curls that rest at the nape of his long neck. The blade looks sharp enough to cut, and it reaches straight down his spine. You wonder about it, and hope there’s a day when you’ll get to see the tip of that blade, wherever it may be.

You’re thinking about reaching out to touch his neck. - let your fingertips feel the skin and hair - when he turns away from the grill and the meat that’s already begun to spit. He seems totally unaware of your gaze, even now with his profile in full view. You could already be sitting on the curb out back puffing through your pre-opening cigarette, but this is a rare thing getting to study him so intensely in a quiet moment.

“You gonna stand there and stare all morning, or do you wanna go smoke before this place turns into a zoo?” You can feel heat in your face immediately, and hope he doesn’t turn to look at how you’re reacting to his teasing. You were caught, but also, he was letting you look. Your stomach does a flip at the thought of it, and you wonder how long he’s known that you’ve been taking all of the sly glances you can.

“I was just waiting for you,” you spin on your heels and head towards the back door before Eddie can look at you, “whenever you’re done screwing around with your meat, I’ll be out here.” Eddie’s low giggle follows you through the back door. The 90 seconds between when you sit on the concrete and when Eddie opens the back door to join you is enough time to consider that he was flirting with you. Openly. That’s new. You think it’s new, anyway. Maybe you’ve just been missing it.

It’s with a heavy sigh that Eddie sits down next to you on the low to the ground curb, his long legs extended so his knees don’t sit up high under his chin. He’s long, like a stretched out cat dressed in his still clean black denim and cotton shirt. He’s close enough for you to smell the soap that still clings to his skin from his morning shower, and the deodorant he must have put on directly after.

“So. I’ve been thinking about something.” Eddie’s fumbling hands are reaching around in his apron pocket while a Camel dangles from his lips. You extend your green Bic, flame lit, to his cigarette. Eddie smiles around the paper filter, his eyes flick from you to the end of his cigarette where the cherry burns to life. “Thank you,” he whispers on an exhale, his full focus back to you.

“What have you been thinking about Eddie?” You push your shoulder against his. As always, it’s a way to connect your bodies in a mundane and friendly way. You think it might be your imagination, but you could swear you can feel his body heat through his and your own layer of clothing. He’s gotten shy now, eyes focused on the asphalt parking lot in front of him. His long fingers are twirling the lit cigarette around while you wait for his answer.

“Well,” the word comes out in a higher pitch than normal, he clears his throat, “well, I was thinking maybe we could go out sometimes. Just you and me, like uh -” he brings his eyes back to yours, gauging your reaction, “- I’m sorry, I’m shit at this. It’s ok if you say no, I don’t want it to be weird at work or anything.”

“I don’t know how anything could be weird when you haven’t actually said anything outside of wanting to go out. Sure, Ed, we can go out. We’re friends aren’t we?” You can’t hold back the snicker that laces your words. Eddie’s so cute, his cheeks are pink and his eyes are pleading. He looks like a boy instead of the 26 year old man that he is, and he’s begging you for mercy.

“You’re torturing me on purpose, and it’s not nice.” No, it’s not nice, but it’s having its intended effect. Eddie wants to take you on a date, and you can’t care that the words are too hard for him to say when his face is so close to your own. When his lips, oh he can definitely see that you’re looking at them, are so pretty. He’s close enough that you can see the stubble across his top lip. Fresh shave this morning, but the light of the sunrise is starting to make the tiny hairs sparkle.

“I’m sorry, Ed,” both of your cigarettes are burned to the filter, and you know it’s at least a couple of minutes past opening time. You can’t find it in yourself to care. You have a wild thought about asking him to flick work with you. To go for a long walk and hold hands. Your thoughts get wilder when you notice his eyes flick down to your mouth as if in question. Unconsciously doing the same thing your own eyes have been doing to Eddie’s lips. Are we going to kiss out here on this curb while the sun is still hiding behind the trees?

Your thought is answered and the moment is broken. The sound of a familiar voice mumbling a curse accompanied by a fist loudly knocking against glass. A quick glance at your watch tells you it’s 3 minutes past opening, and Jimmy is right on time as always. The retiree that sits at the corner of the counter for the first hour of the diner’s business, and has been doing so since the week of the grand opening 15 years ago, is ready for his morning’s coffee.

“Sorry, Jimmy, I’ll be up front in 30 seconds!” You shout around the corner of the building from your spot on the curb, neck craned in the direction of Jimmy’s grumbling before slapping your knees and standing up. You look down at Eddie and find that his gaze has returned to the tree line beyond the parking lot. He lets out a chuckle and pulls out another cigarette while you pat the top of his head in goodbye. By the time you get Jimmy's coffee and cruller, Eddie will be inside to fry up his eggs. You wonder, as you step back in through the metal door, whether the words between you and he will mean anything, or will be forgotten as the day moves forward.

–

You’re perched on a barstool at the counter, Jimmy is the only company you have when it happens. Eddie’s smoke break took longer than was reasonable, and you stepped out of your assigned role to make two sloppily fried over medium eggs for the old guy. You didn’t mind, you assumed this was just one of those mornings. Sometimes, Eddie is pensive. You only wished there was a way to relieve him of his duties for the day so he could get a real break.

The sound of the back door opening draws your attention towards the kitchen while your hands mindlessly pull out a knife, fork, and spoon to roll into the paper napkin in front of you. Immediately you realize something is wrong, because the familiar sounds of Eddie stomping are replaced with a choked off scream and - possibly the sound of a scuffle of some kind.

“What the hell -” before Jimmy can’t get out his thought, he too recognized that something was wrong in the small hallway that holds the back door and bathrooms, Eddie’s high pitched yelling freezes you in your spot. A split second later, your fear has you on your feet and sprinting towards the cacophony.

“Motherfucking son of a bitch!” Eddie hollers before throwing open the swinging kitchen door, narrowly missing your face. A small red blur passes in front of you before you catch sight of Eddie. He is standing in front of the men’s room door with his shirt pulled half over his head and his apron tangled in his arms. Your brain cannot make sense of the sounds and sights you’ve just experienced, and then you hear the voice of another man shouting at the opposite end of the restaurant.

“Christ Almighty!” Jimmy sounds less frantic than Eddie did a moment ago, but no less surprised. Your feet are moving again, letting the swinging door close on the disheveled line cook. Your mind is working to make sense of things when you round the corner to enter the dining room and find your foot skidding against something slick. A quick look down tells you it’s - what the fuck - bird shit.

There’s a bird loose in the restaurant. A bird. And the two men here are screaming messes.

You head back to the dining room and grab a broom before you make your way into the dining room to save an old man from the bird menace. The crashing of silverware tells you that things are not chill, and you’re ready for it. You think you’re ready for it until a flash of red feathers swoops down at your head as you remember to step over the spot of shit left on the linoleum.

“What the fuck.” Your attempt to bat the bird away from your head with the broom, it’s a cardinal - you can see it clearly now, results in you breaking a bulb in one of the hanging lamps that are throughout the dining room. Glass rains down on your shoulders, and you have at least enough sense to shake it off rather than use your fingers to brush at it. “Can birds have rabies?”

“No!” Jimmy answers your rhetorical question from the opposite end of the dining room. You see that his coffee mug and plate of eggs are spilled on the floor next to his abandoned barstool, “but this one is fucking possessed! I flew right at my head like it was out for blood!”

–

The battle of the bird vs. Eddie Munson lasted 2 hours. Casualties included one lightbulb, a glass coffee urn, a set of salt and pepper shakers, a ceramic coffee mug, a tray of donuts (bird shit), and the ceramic plate that held Jimmy’s poorly made over medium eggs. You and Eddie tried and failed to catch the terrified creature dozens of times before opening both the front and back doors and returning to the spot at the curb where Eddie almost managed to ask you out on a date before the chaos began. It took less an 5 minutes for Mr. Cardinal to find the exit, swooping down at Eddie’s head as a final “fuck you”.

“What did I do to deserve that bird’s rage?” Eddie’s hair is a mess, and you can’t help but wonder if he had managed to do something that has resulted in this avian vendetta. “I say we clean up and call this day a loss. Charlie can kiss my ass if he has a problem with it.”

“Charlie won’t care. We already lost breakfast to a bird.” Your words came out with a giggle. Eddie caught the itch of laughter. The post bird drama hysterics had you both hunched over in gasping laughter until the thought of your lost wages made your smile fade. “I’m gonna make Charlie pay me kitchen wages for today.”

Eddie hummed in agreement with the sentiment. You certainly deserve it, especially considering what it will take to get the bird shit out of your non-slip footwear’s sole. When you go to stand, finally deciding it was time to clean and get as far away from the war zone as possible, you’re stopped by a soft grasp of Eddie’s calloused hand on your forearm. You look at him and find his gaze firmly on yours, and not looking out past the tree line.

“How about we clean up and go out to lunch somewhere? My treat?” A battle well fought has given Eddie the nerve to ask the question he’s been wanting to ask for months. Even now, when he knows your answer, butterflies’ wings beat in his chest as the silence after his question is asked fills the air.

“Ok. But only if we can get some ice cream after.”

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #linecook!eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson series #eddie munson au #eddie stranger things #eddie munson imagines

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anghraine · 3 months

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On the one hand, I absolutely love the high tragedy of Denethor's arc in the book, think it's amazingly well-written, and that he is one of the most complex and fascinating characters that Tolkien ever wrote.

On the other, there's part of me that's also a little frustrated by how much it has to happen because Tolkien kind of wrote himself into a corner with the Ruling Stewards. He's insistent on a few things about them:

Their initial rise to power as perma-regents of Gondor was squeaky-clean. Mardil was a paragon of virtue, he tried to prevent Eärnur from getting himself killed, there were no clear successors, and retaining the regency prevented another Kinstrife and created a stable institution that would hold Gondor together for 900+ years after the failure of the kings.

They are a high Númenórean family descended from Elendil, even if they're not formally of the line of Elendil (for unknown reasons, but most likely because they're descended through women).

Denethor is notably very similar to Aragorn, in intellect, wisdom, stature, ability, even appearance. He is a towering and respected figure, and he and his sons are highly popular with their people (even with children).

Denethor's military tactics in the book are very good, and UT says Sauron hoped Denethor would be less prepared than he actually was.

Denethor is proud, unbending, and personally dislikes and distrusts Aragorn. He thinks Gandalf is using him against Sauron for now while planning for Aragorn to take power later (this is filtered through his pride but ... um, is he wrong?).

Faramir, now Denethor's last heir, is a fantastic if reluctant warrior and captain, a super special Númenórean throwback, and a thoughtful, intelligent, and wise person who is humbler than Denethor, but also established as wary about Aragorn.

Gondor formally rejected the claim of Aragorn's family before the Ruling Stewardship even existed.

What all this means is that Denethor, if alive, is someone who will never willingly give way to Aragorn. Denethor has legal precedent on his side, he is himself a perfectly good ruler from a long-standing, stable, legitimate ruling family and a highly capable military leader in war, he is liked by his people, and he even has a viable heir regardless of the personal strain between him and Faramir.

There's just no reason for Aragorn to take power that Denethor, as written, would find remotely persuasive. But Denethor is also too noble and capable and special for a power grab on Aragorn's side to feel right, esp given how destructive it would be in the middle of a war (as Aragorn acknowledges!). Despite the sparkly kingliness and mystical airs, this is fundamentally a dynastic dispute between two different houses descended from Elendil, based on the minutia of Gondorian and Númenórean law and precedent, and a fight over that is ... not the kind of story this is.

Denethor has to be driven to self-destruction by the plot so that Aragorn's rise can happen. It simply would not occur if Denethor was alive and in his right mind. Faramir has to be mystically healed by Aragorn so that his reservations will dissolve and he will voluntarily remove himself from the picture in a way that doesn't feel bad.

And both scenes are fantastic, and make sense for the characters. But I do feel that they kind of get steamrollered by the plot to make way for Aragorn.

The thing that makes that doubly fascinating, though, is that Tolkien didn't have to prop the House of the Stewards up so thoroughly. He could have written a version where the Stewards are inadequate or really sketchy or simply can't be compared to Aragorn's greatness and it's clear why they should be replaced by him and his house. Tolkien could have made this a lot easier for himself! And I do respect the more difficult and nuanced approach Tolkien took with the Stewards by making them genuinely impressive and noble and capable in their own right and not just cardboard-cutouts for Aragorn to kick over.

But, well.

#anghraine babbles #long post #legendarium blogging #legendarium fanwank #húrinionath #denethor #faramir #mardil voronwë #etc #ondonórë blogging

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cmncisspnandmore · 18 days

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One Night Stand Part 7

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley X Pregnant! Reader

Warnings: Medical drama, Fluff,

A/N: Hi loves, sorry for taking so long, i just moved into a new house and its been a lot. And honestly my mental health is trash. This part was also really hard to write for me because I had this happen to me. And i didnt realize how triggering it would be to write about it but the best way to get through the trauma is to write about it, right? maybe? no? well, anyways sorry if it sucks. i'll do better next time.

Word count: 1833...

New to the series? Catch up here: Part 6,

Your head pounded as you laid across the soft couch, each throb timed perfectly with the beating of your heart. There was no cuteness in pregnancy, not in your eyes at least. The glow that most women talked about was nothing more than a sheen of sweat that collected on your brow from your every move. There was a tiny human playing soccer with your organs, your ribcage the goal. They kicked wildly at the space below your ribs, the feeling enough to make you want to throw up.

The past few days had been rough, you had a headache from hell and you just felt drained. Simon was concerned but you had chalked it up to the lingering cold you had going on. But now as you lay on the couch your stomach rolling with each passing moment you aren't so sure. Simon was on base today, having to complete some paperwork. He had woken you this morning, his lips peppering your face with soft kisses.

He had tried to stay home but you had insisted he go, that you would be fine you would call if you needed him. Since he had left a few hours ago he had called you a few times, and you had reassured him each time that you were okay, you were just going to rest on the couch until he got home. You weren’t sure how long had passed since Simon had last called, but you had started to gradually feel worse. You push yourself up onto your elbows, and the world begins to spin around you. A wave of dizziness, crashing into you, as you blindly reach for your phone.

You swallow trying to will yourself not to throw up. It takes you a few moments to find Simon's name in the phone, and putting it on speaker. It rings longer than normal but right before it goes to voicemail his panicked voice answers. “Hello? Y/n? What's wrong?”

“Simon… I… I don't feel good,” your voice shakes as you struggle to keep the phone in your hand.

“Bloody hell, It’s alright Love, stay on the phone with me, i’m on my way,” there’s shuffling and the sound of boots hitting the floor in the background. “You’ll be okay, what's going on?”

“I have a headache… I'm nauseous, and I just don't feel good at all, I think something is really wrong,” you mumble, swaying slightly as you sit on the couch.

“Okay, Love, do you have any swelling in your hands or feet?” The sound of Simon's truck revving filters through the phone.

“Yeah a little,” You lean forward to the best of your ability and press on the top of your foot watching as your finger makes a light indent in the skin.

“Fuck..” Simon curses under his breath, “Love, go put your coat on, I’ll be there in a moment. Okay? We’re gonna go to the hospital.”

“Simon?” you whisper, your voice shaking as you push yourself to stand, bracing yourself on the couch.

“Yeah love?”

“I’m scared…” you whisper, squeezing your eyes closed as tears threaten to spill down your cheeks.

“I know, I'm pulling up now okay, I'm gonna hang up okay? I just parked the truck, I'm coming to get you.” Simon's voice cuts off as the line goes dead. You shuffle over to the coat rack and start to pull on your coat. Hot tears roll down your cheeks as you hold the coat closed around your stomach. A sharp pain under your ribs causing you to gasp, and brace your hands on the kitchen counter.

The sound of heavy boots stops outside the door as Simon pushes into the apartment. He’s still wearing all his gear, his tight black t-shirt, his cargo pants and skull mask on. His brown eyes are full of concern as he walks towards you, his large hands resting on your hips.

“C’mon Love lets get you checked out,” He whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead. Simon’s arms carefully pull you into him, resting your back against his chest as he guides you from the apartment and down to the car. Your mind feels cloudy and far away as Simon secures you into the truck. His hands brushing along your stomach as he fastens your seatbelt. You close your eyes focusing on the revving of the engine as Simon weaves the large black truck in and out of traffic. It was only moments later that it came to a screeching halt outside the A&E doors. He barely had the truck in park before he was jumping out and scooping you up in his arms. He cradles you against his chest as he bursts through the sliding glass doors.

“I need some help!” his voice is loud against your ear. The vibrations of it through his chest causing you to groan in pain. Each movement felt like it was sucking the soul out of you. Every breath hurt and you just wanted to sleep, but soon there were nurses and doctors swarming you. Each of them throws questions towards you, only to have Simon reply for you.

“How far along is she?” a doctor asks as she shines a bright light in your eyes.

“28 Weeks,” Simon's voice is laced with panic.

“Okay, let's get her up to Labor and Delivery people let's go! Someone call the NICU unit!” the on-call emergency room doctor calls out. It was like a swarm of bees, suddenly everyone was doing something. Someone was poking your arm with an IV while another was taking your blood pressure. You weren't sure whose hands belonged to who or what was going on. But after a few moments there was too much going on for your brain to process, and you passed out.

~~~~~

The beeping of the monitors was oddly familiar to you, like when you woke up after being caught in the stairwell after the apartment building you were living in caught fire. But this time there was an icy chill that ran down your spine when you heard it. The memories of what happened come flooding back.

Calling Simon, him rushing home, being rushed to A&E, the doctors concerned voice. The overwhelming sense of panic, and then nothing. You slowly pry our eyes open, fighting against the heaviness. The first thing you see is Simon's blonde hair, the wild strands sticking up at odd angles as it rests against the light blue hospital blanket. Your hand is trapped under his head. His cheek pressed firmly into the back of it. You wiggle your fingers slightly and he stirs. His head lifting, brown eyes blinking slowly as he came around.

“Y/N?” He asks softly, his eyes meeting yours.

“Hi,” you croak softly, your throat dry and a little sore.

“Oh god, baby, you scared me so much,” Simon whispers, his hands coming to cup your cheeks. He was still wearing his gear, minus his mask and vest, his black shirt slightly wrinkled.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your right hand moving reflexively to rest on your stomach. You pause, eyes widening as the once firm bump is now squishy and numb. The world seems to stop spinning, time slowing. Your heart wants to stop beating in your chest but it won't listen.

“N-No.” Your voice cracks, eyes welling with tears and a look of confusion crosses Simon's face before he looks at your right hand.

“Oh! No, love, shhh stop it’s okay. The baby is okay.” He rushes out, grabbing your left hand in his. His face is full of concern, his brow furrowed as he watches you slightly relax. After a moment you let out a shaky breath.

“What happened?” You whisper, looking up at him, his hand still clutched tightly around yours.

“You had PreEclampsia, but a severe case of it called HELLP syndrome. I’m not entirely sure what it means but they said the only way to save your life was to deliver the baby. So they performed an emergency C-Section and had to give you a blood transfusion. The baby is okay, they’re in the NICU. I haven't been able to see them yet, but a nurse came about an hour ago and said that they were fighting like crazy and we should be able to see them soon.” He explains, his brown eyes welling with tears.

His voice is rough and strained, “I thought I was gonna lose you both.”

Hot tears well in your eyes as he admits his fear. A man as big and strong as Simon looked so small at that moment. He looked like a lost child who couldn't find home. The brave soldier who willingly ran into warzones and fought people with his bare hands had never looked so helpless. It was in this rare moment that you got to see the person behind the hardened soldier. The man who truly thought he was going to lose the person he cared about, and his child. Your heart ached for him, you wished you could take the worry and pain he had felt away but you couldn't.

Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks, he must've been so scared, felt so hopeless. He was usually able to control some aspect of the situations he was in. He could fight his way out of the worst scenarios, he could plan an escape, and he was always prepared for things if they went south. But he wasn't able to fix you, he had been completely helpless as Doctors worked to save not only your life but that of his unborn child.

“Oh baby, don't cry,” Simon's thumb strokes the skin under your cheek as he wipes away your tears.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you whisper, voice tight.

“It's not your fault, i’m just glad you're both okay.” He whispers, leaning forward and brushing his lips against your cheek.

“Tell me about the baby,” you blink away the rest of the tears, taking a steadying breath.

“It’s a girl, she weighs 1lb 2oz, and she's so small i don't even think she’d fill my entire palm. They aren't sure entirely what her future looks like, but the nurse that came in to check on you said she was a fighter, and she felt really good about her outcome.” He smiles, his brown eyes filled with pride as he talks about his daughter.

A daughter.

You had a daughter now.

The thought alone was crazy to you, you had been so sure the entire time it was a boy. You had a gut feeling but you were wrong, and you weren’t unhappy about it. You didn't care either way, the only thing you cared about was that they were okay. That they would pull through everything and you would get to bring them home eventually.

There's a soft knock on the door and a nurse with red hair pokes her head in.

“Hi, do you two wanna go meet your daughter?”

Next Part: Part 8

Taglist: @coffeeandtealol, @natashamea18, @itsmytimetoodream @humanities-cutest @ajrfanz @jggykhug09090 @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @ashreblogsnow

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #soft simon #simon x reader #simon riley #simon #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #x you #x reader #ghost cod #cod mw3 #cod modern warfare #cod #simon ghost x reader #ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost #dad!simon riley

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rjk1ve · 3 months

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AGORA HILLS

────────── BASED OFF OF THIS EDIT.

summary: you and jimin are in a fwbs relationship until things take a turn and feelings get involved.

pairing: global pop star m!reader x model!jimin

warnings: fully self indulgent (sorry not sorry), cheating, frottage, lots of kissing, oppa kink, pet names (princess, baby etc), oral (jm & reader receiving), feminisation (reader calls jm’s hole a pussy like one time), fwbs turned… well it’s complicated, reader is a literal ass to his fiancée lmao, manipulative reader, some teasing, confessions, unintentional subspace, jm is so smitten, so is reader tbh, ass eating fr, bareback (pls use protection ppl), breeding kink

Your phone vibrates in a continuous loop—an indicator of a call that remains silent within the four walls of your sumptuous bedroom, currently accompanied by the body of your sleeping fiancée next to you.

The clock in the top left hand corner of your screen reads 01:37am. It’s not late, but it isn’t exactly early either, and honestly, if it were any other person on the line except for him, you may have just popped a vessel or two, thumb lifting up to caress your brow line as you get up and head somewhere downstairs.

Jimin knows you very well, probably better than your own oblivious fiancée and even your friends, and for that reason, he also knows he gets to get away with this every time.

“Hm.” You grunt once you pick up—your way of letting him know you’re listening and that you’re there when you’re not in the mood to talk. Jimin sighs heavily on the other side.

“Are you still mad at me?” He asks, a pout clearly evident in the tone of his voice. When he receives nothing but silence from your end, he continues, “Baby,” and his voice is sweet—honey sweet with drops of dark chocolate, a rich, breathy note that sings its way into your veins. It’s a tone he only ever uses with you, but even that had become meaningless in the face of greedy fingers pulling another man close to him tonight.

There’s some shuffling on his end of the line before he speaks again. “Are you not planning to talk to me at all? I called because I missed you, wanna hear your voice.” he says, and you hear more shuffling, a light vibration crackle through the line. Your eyes fall onto the glittering moon as it reflects against the still waters of the pool, your body leant by the pillar holding up the entrance to your backyard.

“If you’re gonna call me to apologise, at least have the decency to try and hide your horniness,” You comment, voice low, but the corner of your lip twitches upwards, until it doesn’t, because Jimin mewls, inhaling small breaths of air, and the sudden rush of arousal goes straight to your dick.

“Are you playing with yourself right now?” You ask, fingers resting on your chest to scratch through the cotton fabric lazily. Jimin doesn’t answer, instead you receive a sharp exhale from him before he whimpers. “Answer me, kitten.” You demand, voice firm, and he whimpers again at the use of the pet name.

“I have to,” He gasps out, “Since all these men around me have gotten so useless lately.” and he says this as a jab to you—not in the sense that you’re not good in bed, because fuck, Jimin doesn’t think he’s even seen a cock half as impressive as yours, stamina eye widening. He says this because he misses you, wants you, needs you, wishing to irk you into action, but your stubbornness always overpowers his pleas, even now.

“Mm, have fun with your little toy then.” You tell him, and Jimin picks up on the finality of your tone, knowing you were soon going to end the call and so he has no choice, pulling out his last resort.

A sniffle filters through to your ear within seconds, and your eyebrows knit together, understanding exactly where this is going. “Are you serious?” You growl lowly, voice rough and cracking through your meticulously crafted facade. This is a regular Thursday for him, an act of vulnerability that shouldn’t affect you so much after its tireless misuse, but this is Park Jimin. And you’re you.

“It didn’t mean anything,” his voice trickles with something you’re unfamiliar with—it sounds honest, almost regretful. “She was clinging to you all night. Y-you wouldn’t even look at me. I couldn’t think of anything else. I just… I wanted your attention.”

Your fingers cascade through your hair, your resolve breaking with a sigh. It wasn’t exactly a lie; Jimin was right. Your fiancée was being clingier than usual at Jung Hoseok’s album launch party tonight, and she was never the clingy type. Perhaps the threat of endless socialites was too grand, or maybe she simply wished to show off her man in an unfamiliar crowd, wanting to feel like she actually belonged. Either way, Jimin noticed and was clearly affected by it.

“She’s my fiancée, sweetheart.” You didn’t know what else to say. It’s not as if the arrangement between you and Jimin meant anything. You were just fuck buddies—someone the other could use for stress relief and to maybe complain about your actual relationships from time to time. That’s all you are, or were supposed to be, because Jimin doesn’t like your reply.

“Come see me.” He demands instead, blunt with a layer of desperation seeping in. It’s been nearly a week since he saw the last of you, soothing the itch of separation that burns beneath his skin through gentle and excited reminders of your long awaited encounter at Hoseok’s party.

He did not wait a week for you to ignore him. He did not wait a week to watch you guide your pretty little fiancée out of Hoseok’s lavish venue just because she couldn’t handle her alcohol too well.

“Jimin-” You start, but he cuts you off quickly, already aware of the words of rejection sitting on the tip of your tongue. But you should also know, he isn��t one to give up so easily, and he knows exactly what gets you going.

“Please, oppa.” He begs, a pitched whine that you can envision on his pouty lips that immediately shuts you up, erasing any previous plans of denying Jimin his demands. “Need you to stretch me out on your cock, need to let everyone know they’ll never be able to accommodate me like you do. I need it.”

See, usually when your brain’s in charge, moments like this… those days where Jimin is extra needy and sultry with his words, they don’t affect you. But tonight, after all of the shit with your fiancée practically ruining your time out with your friends, your dick is starting to take hold of the reins, twitching and leaving behind a feeling of tightness in your loose joggers.

“Fine. I’ll see you in ten.”

──────────

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please.” Jimin cries, pressed up against the wall to his bedroom, desperately wishing to grind back into you who licks a long stripe up his neck. You nibble on his earlobe, lips ghosting the shell of his ear.

“God, yes,” Jimin moans as your hands roam over his body, pulling his back flat against your chest. He can feel your cock pressing against his ass, seeking more friction as you grind against him. “Please, stop teasing.”

You chuckle softly before spinning him around, slamming him against the door with enough force that it rattles in its frame. Your mouth is hot and wet against his as you kiss him deeply, exploring every inch of his lips and tongue, tasting him, owning him.

His eyes flutter shut, mouth falling open in a soundless, vulnerable offer, submitting himself to you as you continue to tease him, fingers digging into his hips, nails scratching lightly against his skin.

The intensity between you both is undeniable, electric sparks crackling in the air as desire consumes you whole. Jimin's mind goes blank as your lips move to trail down his neck, his fingers digging into your shoulders in order to hold himself upright. Each touch from you ignites new flames within him, threatening to engulf him utterly.

You retract, lips glistening with spit and saliva as you grip his chin, breath heavy on his lips. “Look at me.” You demand, and he looks up at you with wide eyed innocence, mind hazy, hands desperate to hold you tightly against him. “What do you want, baby? Do you want oppa’s cock?”

He’s like putty in your hands, melting under your every touch as he nods desperately. “Yes,” He breathes out, voice husky with need. “I want everything oppa has to offer.”

You smirk, wickedness dancing in your gaze as you grasp onto his waist, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. His legs wrap around your hips as you carry him towards his bed, every step sending shivers through his entire being. He’s missed you so much. He tells you exactly this.

“I missed you too, baby,” You reply and it’s honest.

As soon as you lay him down, he spreads his thighs eagerly, inviting you closer. With hunger in your eyes, you crawl between them, tracing circles along the insides of his knees before slowly dragging yourself upwards, placing a lusty kiss upon his lips as his fingers entangle themselves in your hair, tugging harshly at the roots.

Jimin gasps as you break away from his lips, trailing kisses across his jawline and down his chest. Everywhere your mouth touches sends jolts of pleasure throughout his body, leaving him panting for breath. As your teeth graze the sensitive skin beneath his collarbone, he arches his back, begging for more.

Your hand wanders lower, skimming over the fabric of his pants before dipping inside. The rough texture of your palm strokes against his hardened cock, making him groan loudly. Your other hand reaches up to pinch and twist his nipples, drawing sharp intakes of breath from him.

Jimin grips onto the sheets, trying to steady himself as waves of sensation crash over him. “Oppa,” he whines, clutching onto your arm. “Don't stop.”

You coo, using your free hand to quickly pull out your own leaking cock from your joggers, pressing its larger size against Jimin’s own smaller one. He whimpers as he looks down, and you guide both of his hands to wrap around your cocks. “You can take over for me for a little bit, can’t you?”

It’s not even a question that needs answering as Jimin sits up, reaching over to his nightstand to grab some lube, tearing it open and immediately lathering both of your cocks. His thighs rest comfortably over yours, toes curling as he begins jerking. You hum, watching his small hands struggle to hold you in place as you strip yourself of your shirt and discard it onto the floor. Jimin’s breath catches.

“Have you upped your workout regime? You look even bigger than last time.” He says, practically drooling at the way your biceps stretch and flex with every move. His eyes trail along every part of you; from your broadened shoulders to your heavily developed pecs, you could simply consume him whole.

“If I don’t work out, who’s gonna protect you?” You ask, and he perks up at that, hands stuttering their ministrations for a second before speeding up. Clearly, he likes that you seem to think about him outside of your little get togethers, cheeks colouring pink. Your hand wraps around his wrist then, before you flip him around onto his stomach, fingers digging into his hips as you hold his ass up in front of you.

“And if I don’t protect you, then perhaps any old bastard’d get access to this, no?” You continue, voice low and dripping with a hint of venom. Jimin’s hole puckers at the recollection of your jealousy; a little apologetic but satisfied with the effect he now knows he has on you.

“Oh, you like that?” You spit on his hole, thumb rubbing gentle circles around the rim, stretching it just a little bit so you can get a better view inside. Jimin whines, head turning to look back at you.

“No teasing, oppa.” He pleads once more, already pretty sensitive from his earlier play session. You ignore him however, spitting onto his hole again before you shove your tongue inside to get a taste. Jimin’s fingers curl around silk sheets, bunching up the fabric as he pushes his ass back, trying to meet you halfway. “Yes, yes, yes. Like that. Just like that, please!”

Your hands move to spread Jimin’s ass cheeks apart, squeezing and kneading the flesh as you shove your tongue in deeper. The slide is easy, his hole gaping and ready to be used but you want to prolong the foreplay, want to spend every extra second in his welcoming embrace. “What a desperate little bitch in heat. It’s like you can’t function at all without a cock in you, huh?” You mock, slapping his ass. He squeaks at the impact, head lolling onto the mattress.

“Not just any cock. Your cock. Can’t live without oppa’s cock, want it all to myself.” He says, and his voice slips into shy territory, attempting to bury his reddened cheeks with the silk sheets. You pause, catching the change of tone, and what would usually be harmless dirty talk seems to take a different connotation for Jimin.

“All to yourself?” You move away from Jimin’s ass, climbing over to press yourself firmly on top of him, holding most of your weight up with your arms so as to not crush the younger. Jimin can barely make eye contact, continuing to hide his face within the sheets.

Your head settles within the crook of Jimin’s neck, your hand reaching down to rub your cock between his ass cheeks in a steady rhythm as you nibble on his tan skin. “What’s wrong? You can’t look oppa in the eye when you make confessions now? Look at me, baby.” And your hand wraps around his throat, tilting his head up to make eye contact, foreheads pressed together.

“I want you to myself. I want you to stay the night.” He confesses, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. It’s not something you’re used to; his shyness, his insistence on your time, but you’re already in a state of mounting bliss, cock now positioned against his hole. You insert it in without much warning, earning a surprised scream from Jimin, but before his head can pull away, your hand reaches up to keep it in place, pressing a firm kiss to his lips.

“I’m all yours, princess. Oppa will stay the night if it makes you happy.”

And that moment there—that is probably the start of when boundaries really began to blur.

──────────

“I just don’t like the way he clings to you. I think you should set some boundaries, don’t you think?” She asks, chopping up some carrots. It’s a casual slip in, her obviously thinking she was acting quite nonchalant about it as to not create a scene. You hum, scratching your ear as you read through the setlist your manager had sent to you. “I mean, I know he’s your friend, but last time when we went to Jieun’s party everyone was commenting about how close you two seemed. Some of them even thought you were dating! I mean, isn’t that crazy?”

You settle back in your seat on the couch, switching channels on the TV as you reply to Hoseok’s message about covering a dance challenge later and then Namjoon’s invitation for his first night out as a newly single man. Your fiancée continues rambling in the background.

“It’s just… strange. When was it that you got to know him? He acts like he’s known you for a lifetime. Every now and again is fine, but-” She finally looks over at you, pausing when she realises you’ve been paying her no mind, “Oppa!”

Rolling your eyes, you finally turn to look at her. “What?” You grumble, switching your phone off. She huffs like a little child and you simply raise your brow. “Well? What?”

“Have you been listening to anything I’ve been saying at all this entire time?”

You shrug, gaze turning to the TV upon hearing Jimin’s name on the presenter’s lips. The man’s discussing the upcoming Paris Fashion Week and Korea’s anticipation for Jimin’s appearance. Your diverted attention simply irks your fiancée even more as she storms over to you in order to grab the remote before switching the TV off altogether.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed. She crosses her arms over her chest, visibly upset.

“Don’t you understand what I’m trying to say?” She exclaims. “Your friendship with Jimin-ssi has become unhealthy. I don’t want him coming between us. You need to make sure there’s a clear boundary between your personal life and your professional one.”

You scoff at the ridiculousness spewing out of her lips, averting your eyes as you grab yourself a cigarette from the pack on the coffee table. “Personal? Professional? Like you said, he’s my friend. We’re just close like that.” You dismiss, pulling the lighter out of your pocket.

“But your behavior around him is different,” She says firmly. “You’re always making excuses to spend time with him, canceling plans with me or avoiding social events because you don’t want to be away from him for too long.”

“Now you’re just making shit up.” You comment, beginning to stand up. You make your way over to the balcony but she follows you, exasperated.

“I’m making shit up? Are you serious? Everyone can see it! Your friends see it, my friends see it. The media sees it, so why can’t you?”

Lighting your cigarette, you inhale deeply, your eyes drifting down to the ends of the cigarette burning lightly in your hand. Everyone sees it?

“People like to stir up drama. Especially about guys like me, sweetheart. You should know this.” You tell her, bringing the cigarette back up to your lips. She stays silent for a second, and you hope she’s finally settled down until her voice reaches your ears once more, triggering the oncoming symptoms of a headache you’d rather not deal with.

“They’re only stirring up drama because you’re giving it to them on a silver platter. You need to stop spending so much time with Jimin-ssi. Or at least stop letting him cling to you the way he does.”

As you exhale another puff of smoke, you can feel your temper starting to flare up. “What’s wrong with spending time with my friend? And what do you mean by ‘cling’? That’s just his personality.”

Your fiancée throws her hands up in frustration. “You’re not listening to me! I’m saying that it’s too much, that your friendship with him is crossing a line and I don’t feel comfortable with it. Can’t you see how it affects our relationship?”

You let out a sigh, flicking the cigarette butt over the balcony railing. “I understand that you’re uncomfortable with it, yeah? But I’m not cutting him out of my life like that.” You reply calmly, trying to diffuse the situation. “Jimin’s been there for me through a lot of shit, and I’m not going to throw away our friendship because of baseless rumors.”

Your fiancée looks at you, her eyes pleading. “I’m not asking you to throw away your friendship, I’m just asking you to set some boundaries. And maybe spend more time with me instead.”

You nod, but your internal feelings to defend Jimin still bubble in your chest. “I’ll try to find a balance, alright? But you need to trust me. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise our relationship.”

Your fiancée nods, a bit of relief on her face. “Okay,” she says quietly. “I trust you.” You pull her into your arms, holding her gently.

“I love you,” You whisper, kissing her forehead.

But one has to wonder just when did it become so easy for you to lie like this?

──────────

“That’s right, baby. Keep going. Good, good boy.” You hiss lowly, fingers tangled within Jimin’s head of hair as he bobs his head, sucking your cock past his plump lips messily, hollowing his cheeks.

You bite back a groan, hips thrusting up, slow and steady before they pick up pace, fucking Jimin’s throat like it’s your own personal fleshlight. “God, your mouth. I fucking love your mouth.” You growl, and he looks up at you through thick wet lashes, fingers running along your thighs in an encouraging manner.

“Take it all, princess.” You hold his head still, pushing in deeper as his eyes roll back from every extra inch of your cock that invades his throat. His muffled moan vibrates through your cock and you stroke his cheek, getting him to look up at you with pleading eyes.

“So pretty like this. You’re so good, always helping oppa relieve his stress.” You whisper, and he moans again, nodding, always willing to help. His lack of a gag reflex means you can continue to push his head all the way down and he lets you until his nose presses against your pelvis, cock buried fully within his warm walls.

You hold him in place for a hot minute, head settling back against the couch as you shudder, lips parted, swallowing hard as your fingers brush through his hair. Jimin’s hand moves to fondle with your balls, mouth dribbling the longer he holds your cock down before you pull him off and he heaves.

It only takes a moment before he’s back to appeasing you, licking long stripes up your cock, cheek pressed against your thigh. “Oppa,” he babbles, breathless and needy, and you understand fully as you guide him up to sit on your lap. He immediately presses his lips to yours, shoving his tongue down your throat. You can taste the remnants of your come through the kiss, fingers digging into his perked ass cheeks, spreading them apart.

“You want it that bad?” You query teasingly, eyebrow raised with a lazy smile. He presses himself closer to you, wiggling his ass against your cock as he nods desperately, nibbling on your bottom lip for another taste of you. You hum, pulling away with a tsk. “Words, sweetheart. What did I say about using your words?”

“Oppa!” He cries out with a pout, actual tears forming along his lash line, “Please. I’ve been good. Can’t cum without oppa’s cock. Can’t cum without you in me. Can’t do it. Please.” He begs, giving you much more than you’d asked for, and it satisfies your ego immensely, fingers cascading down the front of your shirt that drapes over Jimin’s figure before sneaking underneath it to run them along the smooth expanse of his skin.

“You have been a good boy, haven’t you? Go on then.” You jut your chin out and his being fills with vibrance, hand reaching back to position your cock against his entrance, but choosing to get payback for your little teasing seconds prior by rubbing his already lubed ass against your hardened length, only ever pushing your tip in slightly before pulling out.

You growl, lips curled down slightly. “Baby, are you playing games with me right now?”

He smiles, eyes turning into little crescent moons as he pecks your lips, his free hand coming up to rest on your shoulder for balance before finally he plunges himself down onto your cock, earning synchronised moans from the both of you.

Jimin’s head nestles itself into the crook of your neck, giving you access to skin that you suck on gently, wishing to form generous marks of your time together before he moves away, shaking his head. “No marks, oppa. The makeup noonas get mad.”

You tsk, although you try to compose your disappointment. Jimin still seems to catch onto some sense of it however, because he’s quick to comfort you, hands cupping your cheeks as he gyrates his hips slowly. “Don’t- don’t be mad. You’re the only one that gets to have me like this.”

“I better be.” You grumble, but Jimin’s insides swell with pride when he notices the way your attention catches at this information. It’s news to you, having thought Jimin would be seeing plenty of other guys in his spare time aside from you but he isn’t.

You’re his favourite. His only one.

“Does oppa like the thought of having me to himself~?” He asks, lips grazing gently against the shell of your ear. He nibbles on it, earning a hum from you as your hands rest on his petite waist, squeezing.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Guess you’ll never really know, will ya?” You chuckle when you feel him pout, his tight walls clenching around your cock. He wraps his arms around your shoulders.

“I’m not moving until you tell me.” He says stubbornly. You pretend to huff, fingers lifting to guide him to face you as you caress his cheek with softened eyes.

“Baby,” You begin, and Jimin perks up, eyes wide with anticipation as he nods, urging you on. He’s so excited thinking you’re going to admit his impact on you until he blinks and suddenly you’re on top of him, having flipped your positions with ease. “You should know better than to provoke me.”

His arms still hold onto your shoulders loosely, and it takes him a minute to register what had just taken place before he whines like a little child, thrashing beneath your weight. “I hate you.” He huffs after failing to push you away, pout deepening as he turns his head. You thrust in and out of him slowly, watching the way his face contorts immediately and his lips quiver, trying his hardest to hold back even the subtlest hint of pleasure until his back arches once you bottom out, nails digging into your delts.

Your hands rest on either side of Jimin’s head, held up by the arm of the couch as you lean down. “I love you.” You whisper, thrusting in deeper, harder, and Jimin tenses at the sudden confession. His thighs loosen and tighten around your waist all at once, almost as if he’s unsure of reality itself. He’s zoned out for a moment, eyes glazed over and then he starts to cry—fresh hot tears stream down his face as he looks up at you, and the look in your eyes is so pure and unfiltered, so full of vulnerability that it makes him cry harder, pulling you as close to him as humanly possible.

“Again.” He pleads, legs spreading wider now, heels digging into your ass to push your cock further into his depths. You press your lips to his in a hot passionate kiss and he responds enthusiastically, nails scratching roughly along your back. “Please. Please say it again. Tell me you love me.”

“I love you.” You tell him again, obliging to his every whim as your slow and powerful thrusts turn to honest lovemaking. His cock twitches at the admission, pre-come leaking out which accompanies pretty, flushed cheeks.

You kiss his tears away one by one, cooing at the way he seems to take on a more docile and dependent role as opposed to his usual bratty one. You’ve even witnessed him on his more desperate days where he’ll do anything just to grab your attention, but not this. This was something different.

“Baby,” You call out to him, hand cupping his cheek. He simply nuzzles further into your touch, mewling at the warmth you provide as you press yourself against him completely, his eyes twinkling as he stares up at you.

“You okay?” You ask, just to be sure. He doesn’t respond with words, but his hands lift to wrap around your wrist, the other settling on top of your palm as he guides your thumb past his lips. He suckles gently, hot tongue circling the pad of your thumb and this is answer enough.

You’ve unintentionally caused him to slip into subspace with your confession, and as you realise this, your heart swells. Those simple words that had come out of your lips had meant so much to Jimin. His ears had practically been yearning to hear them and now that he had, he couldn’t possibly imagine anything more euphoric. He loved you so much.

“Did you like oppa’s confession that much? You liked it so much that you’ve gone dumb, hm?” You chuckle, licking your bottom lip as he nods eagerly, not even denying the accusation. “Good, because oppa’s gonna breed this pretty little pussy until you’re begging me to stop, baby.”

Pulling your thumb out of his mouth, you move your hands back to the arm of the couch where Jimin’s head lays, knuckles tense as your fingers dig into the fabric, thrusting at an angle that has Jimin screaming your name.

“Oppa, oppa…” He’s babbling in your ear, nails scratching along your back subconsciously and you know he’s definitely left some semipermanent marks by now that you’ll have to hide from your fiancée. He’s never been this clumsy, never left any marks on you like this but you can’t say you don’t enjoy it.

“Doing so well for me.” You praise into his ear and he bites down on your shoulder, earning a groan from you as you press a kiss to his temple. His walls clench rhythmically around your cock as if it’s physically attempting to stop you from pulling out at all, loving the thought of being impaled on your girth for eternity. He would be such a good cocksleeve for you, wouldn’t he?

Soon, you turn him on his back where he holds himself up on all fours quite poorly, his cheek smushed against the leather couch as you hold up his ass. Your tongue immediately slips inside to get a taste and he cries, pushing his ass back even further for your pleasure. “Want oppa’s cum… want all of it in me.” He pleads.

Humming, you lift yourself up, pressing light kisses along his back before your chest slots itself perfectly against Jimin’s back. You guide Jimin’s head up, your bicep wrapped around the younger’s throat in order to hold his head upright before your cock shoves past his walls again. “Mm, there we go.” You smirk upon finding your target, hitting his prostate over and over rapidly.

Jimin thrashes a little at the mounting pleasure but you hold him securely, the veins in your arms popping.

As you continue to pound into Jimin's tight whole, sweat drips off your forehead and onto his skin, mingling with the sheen already slick between your two bodies. The sounds of flesh meeting flesh echo through the room and you both moan and grunt with each brutal thrust.

Your grip around Jimin’s neck tightens slightly as you feel his muscles begin to spasm around your cock. “Oh god,” he whimpers, his voice strained and breathless. “Don't stop... please don't stop.”

With a low growl, you drive deeper into him, feeling his inner walls contract around your dick as you hit his sweet spot once more. It takes everything you have not to lose control right then and there, but you force yourself to hold back, wanting to draw out his pleasure as long as possible.

Slowly, you pull almost entirely out, only to plunge back into him again with renewed vigour. Jimin screams your name as you repeat this torturous cycle, the tip of your cock rubbing against his sensitive nerve endings each time you withdraw.

As the intensity builds within Jimin, his body begins to tremble uncontrollably. Sweat glistens on his skin, mixing with tears that stream down his face. “Oppa,” he chokes out, clutching desperately at the couch cushions beneath him.

Ignoring his cries for mercy, you continue to pound into him relentlessly. Every stroke sends waves of ecstasy coursing through his entire being, leaving him gasping for air.

Finally, with one final push, you erupt deep inside him, filling him completely with your seed. Jimin lets out a keening cry as he comes with you, writhing underneath you as you collapse against his back, spent.

For several moments, the only sound that fills the room is the steady beat of your hearts intertwined together. Eventually, you lift yourself up, pulling out of Jimin’s quivering hole. As you do so, he collapses forward onto the couch, exhausted and utterly satisfied.

“Thank you, oppa,” He whispers weakly, closing his eyes, but then he opens them again almost immediately—this time with slight insecurity etched within them, not giving you time to answer before he speaks again. “Did you… did you mean what you said?” He asks, his voice meek and timid. “About, uhm, the confession?”

You pause, considering your words carefully. Now that the rush of pleasure and adrenaline had passed you by, the words exchanged between the both of you become clearer, but you don't regret anything.

“I meant every word.” You tell him honestly, your fingers gripping his chin gently. He brightens at the words, hopeful. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too.” He replies, pulling you down into a kiss.

TAGLIST ───── check out this post to see how to be added.

#🧾. 𝐉𝐌 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐒 !#bts x male reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfiction #jimin x male reader #jimin x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop imagines #male reader #kpop x male reader

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bobacupcake · 10 months

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Oooh, what about Journey? I think the sand probably took a lot to pull off

it did!! i watched a video about it, god, like 6 years ago or something and it was a very very important thing for them to get just right. this is goimg to be a longer one because i know this one pretty extensively

here's the steps they took to reach it!!

and heres it all broken down:

so first off comes the base lighting!! when it comes to lighting things in videogames, a pretty common model is the lambert model. essentially you get how bright things are just by comparing the normal (the direction your pixel is facing in 3d space) with the light direction (so if your pixel is facing the light, it returns 1, full brightness. if the light is 90 degrees perpendicular to the pixel, it returns 0, completely dark. and pointing even further away you start to go negative. facing a full 180 gives you -1. thats dot product baybe!!!)

but they didnt like it. so. they just tried adding and multiplying random things!!! literally. until they got the thing on the right which they were like yeah this is better :)

you will also notice the little waves in the sand. all the sand dunes were built out of a heightmap (where things lower to the ground are closer to black and things higher off the ground are closer to white). so they used a really upscaled version of it to map a tiling normal map on top. they picked the map automatically based on how steep the sand was, and which direction it was facing (east/west got one texture, north/south got the other texture)

then its time for sparkles!!!! they do something very similar to what i do for sparkles, which is essentially, they take a very noisy normal map like this and if you are looking directly at a pixels direction, it sparkles!!

this did create an issue, where the tops of sand dunes look uh, not what they were going for! (also before i transition to the next topic i should also mention the "ocean specular" where they basically just took the lighting equation you usually use for reflecting the sun/moon off of water, and uh, set it up on the sand instead with the above normal map. and it worked!!! ok back to the tops of the sand dunes issue)

so certain parts just didnt look as they intended and this was a result of the anisotropic filtering failing. what is anisotropic filtering you ask ?? well i will do my best to explain it because i didnt actually understand it until 5 minutes ago!!!! this is going to be the longest part of this whole explanation!!!

so any time you are looking at a videogame with textures, those textures are generally coming from squares (or other Normal Shapes like a healthy rectangle). but ! lets say you are viewing something from a steep angle

it gets all messed up!!! so howww do we fix this. well first we have to look at something called mip mapping. this is Another thing that is needded because video game textures are generally squares. because if you look at them from far away, the way each pixel gets sampled, you end up with some artifacting!!

so mip maps essentially just are the original texture, but a bunch of times scaled down Properly. and now when you sample that texture from far away (so see something off in the distance that has that texture), instead of sampling from the original which might not look good from that distance, you sample from the scaled down one, which does look good from that distance

ok. do you understand mip mapping now. ok. great. now imagine you are a GPU and you know exactly. which parts of each different mip map to sample from. to make the texture look the Absolute Best from the angle you are looking at it from. how do you decide which mip map to sample, and how to sample it? i dont know. i dont know. i dont know how it works. but thats anisotropic filtering. without it looking at things from a steep angle will look blurry, but with it, your GPU knows how to make it look Crisp by using all the different mip maps and sampling them multiple times. yay! the more you let it sample, the crisper it can get. without is on the left, with is on the right!!

ok. now. generally this is just a nice little thing to have because its kind of expensive. BUT. when you are using a normal map that is very very grainy like the journey people are, for all the sparkles. having texture fidelity hold up at all angles is very very important. because without it, your textures can get a bit muddied when viewing it from any angle that isnt Straight On, and this will happen

cool? sure. but not what they were going for!! (16 means that the aniso is allowed to sample the mip maps sixteen times!! thats a lot)

but luckily aniso 16 allows for that pixel perfect normal map look they are going for. EXCEPT. when viewed from the steepest of angles. bringing us back here

so how did they fix this ? its really really clever. yo uguys rmemeber mip maps right. so if you have a texture. and have its mip maps look like this

that means that anything closer to you will look darker, because its sampling from the biggest mip map, and the further away you get, the lighter the texture is going to end up. EXCEPT !!!! because of aisononotropic filtering. it will do the whole sample other mip maps too. and the places where the anisotropic filtering fail just so happen to be the places where it starts sampling the furthest texture. making the parts that fail that are close to the camera end up as white!!!

you can see that little ridge that was causing problems is a solid white at the tip, when it should still be grey. so they used this and essentially just told it not to render sparkles on the white parts. problem solved

we arent done yet though because you guys remember the mip maps? well. they are causing their own problems. because when you shrink down the sparkly normal map, it got Less Sparkly, and a bit smooth. soooo . they just made the normal map mip maps sharper (they just multipled them by 2. this just Worked)

the Sharp mip maps are on the left here!!

and uh... thats it!!!! phew. hope at least some of this made sense

#trappedinavelociraptor #ask #potion of answers your question #gamedev stuff

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taylorswiftstylequestions · 1 month

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I'm not puke anon, but I will admit I had similar thoughts when she first announced TTPD / released the track list. With the huge caveat that I know nothing about their relationship or them personally, I'm in camp, "Joe is an okay guy and was good for her at that time in her life" and I was worried that any negativity on the album might be revisionist history.

BUT! I'm reserving judgment because I feel like she always surprises me. I was more of a casual fan when reputation came out and I remember scoffing at the track list because the titles really lean into the stereotyping she experienced at the time and I didn't realize that she was being tongue-in-cheek. I was so surprised when I listened to the songs and they were nothing like I expected. So hoping for good things with TTPD!

These are all such great points and I esp hear you on how reputation was absolutely an intentionally designed bait-and-switch album (one that you would think would be centered on All That Drama but in reality was a love album).

But the one thing I push back on a lot is the 'revisionist history' claim that I see because. Because. Well. It's her history to revise.

And what is the human experience if not continually filtering, learning, relearning, analyzing, reanalyzing, and holding our own personal experiences in our hands as we grow older and learn more and feel more feelings and do more things that we can look on our lives with more hindsight and perspective and ascribe new meaning to what we've been through. And your vision of this person being okay and good for her in her life (while absolutely still possible to be true) was only something you accepted because it was told to you (note by this i mean: one/general/us/royal we/collective) by her.

And I feel like the pre-discomfort people are experiencing w this tracklist (again based on the assumptions of things bc we don't know what these songs actually are) ("He was a good guy but this was also really hard" / "We were great together and I experienced a lot of strife at points of this relationship") is perhaps because of the common thing where admitting we're wrong or changing our minds once we learn new information is fucking hard!

But if you (again one/general/us/etc) feel that way being confronted by a person you thought you knew perhaps not being entirely the way you thought only as a bystander and consumer of her art - how do you think that entire unlearning curve felt for her who actually lived it.

#opinion

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canmom · 6 months

Text

Hypothetical Decentralised Social Media Protocol Stack

if we were to dream up the Next Social Media from first principles we face three problems. one is scaling hosting, the second is discovery/aggregation, the third is moderation.

hosting

hosting for millions of users is very very expensive. you have to have a network of datacentres around the world and mechanisms to sync the data between them. you probably use something like AWS, and they will charge you an eye-watering amount of money for it. since it's so expensive, there's no way to break even except by either charging users to access your service (which people generally hate to do) or selling ads, the ability to intrude on their attention to the highest bidder (which people also hate, and go out of their way to filter out). unless you have a lot of money to burn, this is a major barrier.

the traditional internet hosts everything on different servers, and you use addresses that point you to that server. the problem with this is that it responds poorly to sudden spikes in attention. if you self-host your blog, you can get DDOSed entirely by accident. you can use a service like cloudflare to protect you but that's $$$. you can host a blog on a service like wordpress, or a static site on a service like Github Pages or Neocities, often for free, but that broadly limits interaction to people leaving comments on your blog and doesn't have the off-the-cuff passing-thought sort of interaction that social media does.

the middle ground is forums, which used to be the primary form of social interaction before social media eclipsed them, typically running on one or a few servers with a database + frontend. these are viable enough, often they can be run with fairly minimal ads or by user subscriptions (the SomethingAwful model), but they can't scale indefinitely, and each one is a separate bubble. mastodon is a semi-return to this model, with the addition of a means to use your account on one bubble to interact with another ('federation').

the issue with everything so far is that it's an all-eggs-in-one-basket approach. you depend on the forum, instance, or service paying its bills to stay up. if it goes down, it's just gone. and database-backend models often interact poorly with the internet archive's scraping, so huge chunks won't be preserved.

scaling hosting could theoretically be solved by a model like torrents or IPFS, in which every user becomes a 'server' for all the posts they download, and you look up files using hashes of the content. if a post gets popular, it also gets better seeded! an issue with that design is archival: there is no guarantee that stuff will stay on the network, so if nobody is downloading a post, it is likely to get flushed out by newer stuff. it's like link rot, but it happens automatically.

IPFS solves this by 'pinning': you order an IPFS node (e.g. your server) not to flush a certain file so it will always be available from at least one source. they've sadly mixed this up in cryptocurrency, with 'pinning services' which will take payment in crypto to pin your data. my distaste for a technology designed around red queen races aside, I don't know how pinning costs compare to regular hosting costs.

theoretically you could build a social network on a backbone of content-based addressing. it would come with some drawbacks (posts would be immutable, unless you use some indirection to a traditional address-based hosting) but i think you could make it work (a mix of location-based addressing for low-bandwidth stuff like text, and content-based addressing for inline media). in fact, IPFS has the ability to mix in a bit of address-based lookup into its content-based approach, used for hosting blogs and the like.

as for videos - well, BitTorrent is great for distributing video files. though I don't know how well that scales to something like Youtube. you'd need a lot of hard drive space to handle the amount of Youtube that people typically watch and continue seeding it.

aggregation/discovery

the next problem is aggregation/discovery. social media sites approach this problem in various ways. early social media sites like LiveJournal had a somewhat newsgroup-like approach, you'd join a 'community' and people would post stuff to that community. this got replaced by the subscription model of sites like Twitter and Tumblr, where every user is simultaneously an author and a curator, and you subscribe to someone to see what posts they want to share.

this in turn got replaced by neural network-driven algorithms which attempt to guess what you'll want to see and show you stuff that's popular with whatever it thinks your demographic is. that's gotta go, or at least not be an intrinsic part of the social network anymore.

it would be easy enough to replicate the 'subscribe to see someone's recommended stuff' model, you just need a protocol for pointing people at stuff. (getting analytics such as like/reblog counts would be more difficult!) it would probably look similar to RSS feeds: you upload a list of suitably formatted data, and programs which speak that protocol can download it.

the problem of discovery - ways to find strangers who are interested in the same stuff you are - is more tricky. if we're trying to design this as a fully decentralised, censorship-resistant network, we face the spam problem. any means you use to broadcast 'hi, i exist and i like to talk about this thing, come interact with me' can be subverted by spammers. either you restrict yourself entirely to spreading across a network of curated recommendations, or you have to have moderation.

moderation

moderation is one of the hardest problems of social networks as they currently exist. it's both a problem of spam (the posts that users want to see getting swamped by porn bots or whatever) and legality (they're obliged to remove child porn, beheading videos and the like). the usual solution is a combination of AI shit - does the robot think this looks like a naked person - and outsourcing it to poorly paid workers in (typically) African countries, whose job is to look at reports of the most traumatic shit humans can come up with all day and confirm whether it's bad or not.

for our purposes, the hypothetical decentralised network is a protocol to help computers find stuff, not a platform. we can't control how people use it, and if we're not hosting any of the bad shit, it's not on us. but spam moderation is a problem any time that people can insert content you did not request into your feed.

possibly this is where you could have something like Mastodon instances, with their own moderation rules, but crucially, which don't host the content they aggregate. so instead of having 'an account on an instance', you have a stable address on the network, and you submit it to various directories so people can find you. by keeping each one limited in scale, it makes moderation more feasible. this is basically Reddit's model: you have topic-based hubs which people can subscribe to, and submit stuff to.

the other moderation issue is that there is no mechanism in this design to protect from mass harassment. if someone put you on the K*w*f*rms List of Degenerate Trannies To Suicidebait, there'd be fuck all you can do except refuse to receive contact from strangers. though... that's kind of already true of the internet as it stands. nobody has solved this problem.

to sum up

primarily static sites 'hosted' partly or fully on IPFS and BitTorrent

a protocol for sharing content you want to promote, similar to RSS, that you can aggregate into a 'feed'

directories you can submit posts to which handle their own moderation

no ads, nobody makes money off this

honestly, the biggest problem with all this is mostly just... getting it going in the first place. because let's be real, who but tech nerds is going to use a system that requires you to understand fuckin IPFS? until it's already up and running, this idea's got about as much hope as getting people to sign each others' GPG keys. it would have to have the sharp edges sanded down, so it's as easy to get on the Hypothetical Decentralised Social Network Protocol Stack as it is to register an account on tumblr.

but running over it like this... I don't think it's actually impossible in principle. a lot of the technical hurdles have already been solved. and that's what I want the Next Place to look like.

#i'm gonna hurry up and get my website on ipfs i think #tumblr

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pinktom · 5 months

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What do you think pink about tomarry content creators getting abusive tomione asks suddenly? First obsidian, then I saw one more account getting and now seminar arts. Is it only one person doing all this?

Btw my jaw dropped with your no filter answer where you said that whenever harry comes the chemistry between to marry best tomione 🤣. I would love to hear more of your no filter thoughts

I have no doubt those asks were sent by trolls. I, however, am simply a hater—I see an opportunity to hate, justified or not, I pounce. x]

In ascending order, here are the reasons I think Tomione sucks.

PS: If you know this post is gonna piss you off and press "Keep Reading" anyway - that is entirely on you. Send me anon hate and I'll assume you're a masochist who wants me to spank your pert, round hinie and call you a naughty, naughty girl.

“Book nerd loves book nerd uwu” trope does not fit Tom Riddle, and I find it obnoxious.

Like I touched on when I was first sipping on that haterade, Tom Riddle values usefulness. By this logic, you could easily contrive up a scenario in which he wants to use Hermione’s skills for whatever reason.

However, the route that is usually taken in Tomione is that Tom is … impressed … by her intellect. A woman… who is… smart? He’s intrigued. 😏 He’s never once met a smart woman in his life before. And certainly not one so independent and feisty. She doesn’t swoon over him like the other girls do (eye roll).

I never got the impression anywhere in canon that Tom Riddle cared much about intellectual pursuits beyond those which were immediately useful to his goals, so for the very basis of a relationship to be his interest in her brains – to me, it’s tedious and off-base.

And also icky honestly lkjdflkj. Hermione’s two crushes are on a couple of stinky smelly boys (Krum, Ron), where the hell do you go off acting like she wants some mysterious, twisted dark boy? I’m offended.

Absolutely zero chemistry; once Harry steps in, it’s game over

Because these characters lack any common ground, shared values, or compelling circumstances that tether them together, there is zero chemistry. You can try to fabricate those things with a little bit of crack!cocaine, but then you’re forced to contrive a lot of additional personality traits and circumstances that diverge them from their canon selves. (Which yes, you can do, but it only works if you’re gonna do something really interesting.)

As much as people like to har har about how canon doesn’t matter, here’s the truth: yes, it does. Our communities only exist because we’re referencing shared source material. However much you can bend characters around, everyone knows each character has an essence that just “feels like them” on a deeper human level.

As such, we all know Tom Riddle and Harry Potter are intrinsically connected to each other. In Tomione this presents a conundrum. I could cite dozens of fics, but I’ll stick to two very well-written ones I enjoyed.

In one of them, Tom was a criminal and Harry was a detective on his tail; no matter how many times Tom fingered Hermione, he was always more entangled with Harry, because the stakes and intensity between them were so much grander. Same thing with the other fic but amplified by the Horcrux bond. At their very first encounter, when Tom and Harry laid eyes on each other, they both immediately felt an arresting connection, with distrust and intrigue. Hermione instantly paled in comparison in both stories.

It’s just like the moment Harry steps into the frame, you see how transparent and superficial the “commonalities” between Tom and Hermione ever are. Books and cleverness - oh but Harry, there are more important things! Like being spiritually linked! And sharing unique and intimate traumas in common!

Heterosexual Tom is truly disgusting to read about

Look–it’s a matter of taste. We’re all products of our environments. For me, no amount of feminism or fantasy can overrule everything I’ve seen and experienced in my life. ( ಠ_ಠ )

I don’t enjoy reading about women in relationships with men who are controlling, violent, and selfish. Even the way Voldemort treats Bellatrix in canon always makes me wince, because I see it like this … here’s this girl who grew up proud; who was beautiful, rich, extremely gifted and powerful; and she turns into this horrible sniveling creature. Say it ain't so! I wish she'd killed him when he broke her ass out of Azkaban.

But back on the topic of Tomione specifically — I think there’s another layer to it, which is the greasy self-insertion aspect which makes me uncomfortably aware of how much the author’s ginie is tingling at the idea of Tom Riddle lifting a brow and saying, “Is that so, Miss Granger?” while she scowls and tells him to fuck off !!!

It’s of course not the self-insertion in itself that’s icky. It’s more just that the type of person who wants to self-insert into that particular heterosexual scenario is, uhh, too basic for me and my big powerful fujo brain.

And I guess that's gets me to the very core of why I find Tomione basic, trifling, and underwhelming.

Tom Riddle is allowed no faults whatsoever in Tomione

Oh, sure. He’s controlling. He’s mean. He grabs her wrist and says, “What were you doing talking to Malfoy?” 😠

But so... ? Tom Riddle is a deeply embarrassing, mentally unwell trainwreck of a person. He's so much grosser than that. Yet you do not get that feeling at all in most Tomione fics. His worst character traits are often there but they’re made to seem sexy and flattering at all times.

I’m not saying your run-of-the-mill Tomarry fic doesn’t suffer this fatal flaw too—but when it comes down to it, Tomione doesn’t allow for his unsexy fallibility, period. Because the sexiness of the ship really depends on heteronormative romantic tropes and fantasies, which tend to be quite rigid and narrow.

And I understand and empathize with why this is; just look at Reddit, so many women in heterosexual relationships already must put up with mortifying, embarrassing, and unhygienic things (y’all know which posts I mean 🙁).

That’s just not what I’m here for. I love Tom Riddle because he’s a superficial narcissistic lunatic with no self-awareness and emotionally stunted outlook.

I don’t want to hear how he terrified the orphans if I’m not gonna hear about how he pissed the bed and got his bare ass whipped by a mean, toothless matron for chatting in sermon. I don’t care to see him bossing around those wimps at Hogwarts if there’s not at least one student who looks at “ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE” written in blood and feels tummy-churning secondhand embarrassment.

#tom #server #asks #offensive content #anti tomione #shipping wars

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dreamsinarcadia · 24 days

Text

Hypertension

Prompt: How can I not worry over the person I love the most?

In which Heung-min doesn’t know how not to hover after a visit to the doctor

pairing: sonny x wife!reader

warning: lots of silly grammatical errors that I just cannot find the energy to fix 🫶🏽

She found it near impossible not to love her husband when he was like this, fretting and almost pulling his hair out in worry - a little handsy, but only because he loved her far too much to let her go, to let her walk even five feet away from him.

It was impossible not to love him when he was all wide eyed and beaming bright enough to give the sun a challenge, warm and delightfully flushed (but again, because he loved her far too much to feel calm again).

In the hallway leading to their bedroom, Heung-min was practically skipping. He was also loud, more so than usual, his voice ricocheting off the walls and bouncing off the high ceiling. He was elated, practically demanding that their neighbours in the complex hear it as well, but this level of happiness at such a close proximity was borderline overwhelming.

Not overwhelming in a bad way, but a tidal wave of his affection, so she tried to move his hands from her waist as lightly as possible.

“Heung-min, you know that I can still walk, right?” she asked gently, trying so hard not to let a giggle break through her lips.

His hold on her waist remained firm as he walked behind to guide her in slow and purposeful steps. He hummed cheerfully and nodded in agreement. “I know.”

“Uh-huh, do you really?” she snorted, looking pointedly down at where the tips of his feet came into view between her own.

Playfully smacking his hands away to let them hover her hips instead, he couldn’t help but laugh as the ridiculousness of the situation slowly filtered into his head. “I know you can walk by yourself, but —”

“I’m pregnant, not terminally ill,” she reminded him with an arched brow.

Behind her, long limbs turned her own careful steps into a messy affair with him hot on her heels. The heat from his chest felt like she was pressed against a furnace, something that she never took for granted in the miserly weather of London. His palms, smooth and warm, slipped under the waistband of her pants to rub soothing circles into the flesh of her waist.

He was towering over her like a mother hen, encasing her in a protective shield to remind her that though she was more than capable on her own two feet, he was there to catch her at even the smallest hint of losing balance.

“Again, just pregnant, not terminally ill.”

Still, though Heung-min kept pace and somehow managed to inch even closer, as though he was trying to merge their bodies into one. “You know in some countries, they’re pretty much considered the same thing.”

She really had to stamp down the urge to roll her eyes. “Babe, we just saw the best doctor in London. I’m fine!”

Like words thrown at a brick wall.

Heung-min shrugged. “Hypertension.”

Having finally arrived at their bedroom, she plopped down on the bed and released a heavy sigh. Her husband knelt down in front of her, taking her hands into his own to press loving kisses into her palms.

For a moment, she remained quiet, having her fill of the closeness of his features. Her gaze walked over his skin, igniting a fire in the base of his spine, and she took her time. Then she leaned forward with a secret smile to press a quick kiss to the sunburn on the bridge of his nose. “What are you thinking about?” she asked.

He wiggled his brows.

“Pre-eclampsia.”

She had to cackle then, playfully shoving him away. “You’re so romantic.”

“It’s real!” He insisted, finally moving away to toss his wallet and keys onto his bedside table. “My love, it actually happens.”

Sensing that he was quickly losing his joviality, she gave him a gentle smile and walked over. “I know, but we have so much more time down the line to worry about that. I’m just six weeks in.”

Leaning up on her toes, her lips barely brushed his with the barest of touches, her hand running through his hair with purpose before pulling away altogether. “You don’t have to worry.”

Heung-min shoved his hands in his pockets as he leaned a shoulder on the doorway, admiring his wife and her body as though he could see beyond her clothes, beyond her skin. Every fibre of his being was utterly devoted to all of her, she could feel the tidal wave of devotion that flowed from his heart directly into her own, turning his arms into a safe haven for all her wayward worries and dreams.

“I know,” he said with a tilt of his head. “How can I not worry over the person I love the most?”

He reached out to take her hand and pull her up against him. His hands settled comfortably on either side of her waist and he took a moment to relish the feeling of the soft cotton of her shirt against his palms. They stayed like that for a few minutes before she was waddling out of the room with him pressed against her back like velcro, leading him into the empty room that had previously been saved as an office space.

It had a new, more wholesome purpose now.

Heung-min looked up at the ceiling and then his eyes moved down the walls and the doors before they finally landed on the floors, taking in the sleek oak. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet. "Yeah, this is going to be a lot of work," he said. “Unless our baby is going to work in a corporate office the first day out of the hospital, we need to start planning out an actual nursery.”

“We’re going to have to decorate a nursery,” she hummed.

“…for a baby,” he mumbled into her hair thoughtfully. “Our baby.”

Oh.

It was happening.

Parenthood.

She twisted around to face him and found herself—not for the first time—overwhelmed by a heady mixture of giddy happiness and tender affection. That had been happening with a frequency as of late, but while her friends told her that she was still under the spell of being a newlywed, she suspected that it would always be the case when Heung-min was just so excited about the prospect of being a father. She reflexively tightened her grip on his hands, which drew his attention down to her. "We’re going to be parents," she told him.

He beamed down at her, lifting a hand to tuck some loose strands of her hair behind one of her ears and tipped his head to one side. "You’re going to be a mom.”

She smiled even wider and curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt so she could hold him that much closer to her. "And you’re going to be a dad.”

He chuckled and the sound reverberated through his chest and into hers and to the very tips of her toes. She closed her eyes and tried to just soak him in as one of his hands threaded through her hair to hold the back of her head. Then the bow of his mouth pressed to her forehead.

She pressed her face into the fabric of his shirt and let out a long breath when Heung-min folded his long arms around her. She could practically hear the sound of their child somewhere off and away from the house and she couldn't help but smile to herself. Change had never much agreed with her in the past, but after changing her mind, a change of heart, and finally changing her surname she didn't think she minded it so much. She had someone to lay roots down with and hang onto through the worst of anything.

Worth it, she thought to herself. Nothing had ever been so worth it.

#heung min son #son heung min scenario #son heung min imagine #son heung min #son heungmin #heungmin son #footballer x reader #son heung min fanfic #son heung min fic #son heung min fluff #footballer imagine #son heung min x reader #son heung min one shot #footballer x y/n #football fanfic

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