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boyfhee · 1 year

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⌕ TAKE TWO ━━ 24 : an odd solace

PRECIS. while riki constantly assured you that him being an idol under a different label wouldn't be an issue in your relationship, you start getting second thoughts when fans start shipping him with his co-mc at music bank.

w : angst this is the last time . trust . ( 1.6k )

n : written part below the screenshots ! happy reading ppl

you’re beginning to invent things lately. adding and subtracting from your memory, remembering things the way they should be, or rather, in a way you want to remember them. all the times you’ve seen riki and miya together is a blur, all the moments with jungwon are getting clear, all the moments with riki; they’re there, coming and going like random influx and efflux of ions, at random times of the day. processing things that way would be better, or so you thought. after all, they’re your memories, and you should be allowed to view them however you wish, deleting the ones you despise, but only if memories could be deleted.

riki’s question still circles your mind, jogging around day and night— it has been three days since. saying you didn’t have an answer would be the half truth, claiming to have one would be half lie. in the end, you’re once again sitting with your hands full of confusion and what ifs. it’s one of the reasons why you think leaving for japan would be better.

“i’m sorry for that day,” you whisper slowly, staring at your palms, hoping he could hear you. “i shouldn’t have done that,”

“it’s fine,” coming to the airport with jungwon wasn’t what you planned, but it happened anyway. in fact, he came much later, thirty-minutes or so, and now you both are waiting for you to leave. you feel the hesitation lingering around, the feeling of having so many questions but getting to ask none. been there, done that, you wish you could tell him that with a laugh, without feeling ashamed.

“are you mad?” but you’re doing fine, actually. talking with riki, going through confrontations, you think you’re ready for a little more blame and regrets if jungwon directs them to you. maybe, it’s because of the acceptance of the fact that you deserve it, or perhaps you’ve just grown immune to feeling that over the past few weeks.

“i don’t know,” he sighs, lips pressing into a thin line. one may think he’s talking to himself, but the next second, jungwon looked at you with an awkward smile. “well, it is my fault as well because i should’ve stepped back instead of giving in,”

you almost forgot how pretty he looks when he smiles.

“still, i was the one who kissed you first,” for some reason, talking about it doesn’t feel awkward anymore. instead, it’s scary. are you touching a critical topic? maybe, and maybe, jungwon doesn’t want to talk about it but you do, because you have a lot to say. “you’re not a rebound. i used you and the feelings you have for me to make myself feel better without thinking about you even once, it was stupid. i’m not going to ask you for forgiveness,” but he will still forgive you. he’s too good, so much that he ends up apologising even if it’s not his fault. he’s too good for you. “all i want is for you to look after yourself a little. live for yourself, find someone who loves you the way you love them. you deserve better,”

and perhaps, you’re the one who took his smile away, even if it was for a little while.

suddenly, you realise you never responded to his confession, not like it’s necessary. he knows the answer already, knew it the day he confessed.

“is that why you’re leaving? because you think you don’t deserve me?”

“i’m leaving because i need a break from all this. i need time to figure out my own thoughts. moreover, i’m going to be all over the news for at least a few weeks so, it’s better for me to fly back to japan and stay low for a while,” you explain with a nod, hoping that this time, you made the right decision. “but, yes, i don’t think i deserve you. you’re way too good, jungwon”

you’re learning to speak his name with gratitude. jungwon has been there for you for as long as your memory takes you back. sometimes, it doesn’t feel like he has known you only for a little over a year. he feels too familiar, like someone you’ve known for centuries and far beyond. maybe that’s why he always felt so welcoming. you don’t think you’ve ever felt awkwardness with jungwon— apart from when you kissed him, of course. the second you saw jungwon, you found a friend in him, best friend, even, and riki, you and him, were inseparable.

you wonder if things would’ve been the same if none of this ever happened.

“make sure you tell riki’s mother about everything he did,” he snickers in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, a much needed attempt, might you add. you almost ran out of things to say.

“hey, i am no better so i don’t get to complain,”

“that’s right. you are heartless,” it’s a joke, you know, but a look into his eyes, and you see a hint of genuinity. honestly, even if he called you heartless and selfish, you wouldn’t mind. it’s the truth, you’ll have to accept it one day or another. the only point of this trip to japan is to accept your flaws and weaknesses and work on them so that you can return as a better person to the people you adore.

you’ve dealt with loss, walked side by side with your hands in his. you’ve wept on his shoulder, you’ve hugged him in sleep, you’ve been intimate with loss. you’ve been trying to come to terms with loss ever since you started seeing riki drifting away from you, ever since you realised your mistake and started seeing less of jungwon in your life. you don’t think you can ever experience love without loss, because you’re sitting here overflowing with love and no one to give it to. you’re sitting with your hands empty because of what you’ve lost, and you’re sitting so close to one of the few things you’ve lost that you’d kill to get back, but alas, you’ve already lost him.

“do you really have to go?” he finally says the words he has been keeping in for hours. the truth is— jungwon hates you. you’re a coward. you had chances to fix things but you let your insecurities make decisions for you. jungwon thinks he’s going to hate you even more if you leave because he thinks the three of you can solve things out without having to create distances in between. distances never have resulted in anything good, you and riki are a good example. his heart knows what you’re doing is right, but his soul tells him otherwise.

“it’s for the three of us,” and you give the same old response. you’ve said it so many times, it doesn’t feel like an explanation anymore. “we need to take some time for ourselves, away from each other,”

the more you say it, the more it begins to sound like an excuse.

jungwon chuckles in return. “okay, so how do i stay away from riki?”

“uh, maybe you two can utilise this time to make amends,” okay, you do feel bad for being the reason why they aren’t as close as they used to be. riki and jungwon, the inseparable duo, the best friends who were attached to the hip all the time, they’re no longer the way they used to be and somewhere, you know you are to be blamed. not as long, definitely, because riki is equally responsible, perhaps jungwon too. you won’t make assumptions, you’ve never been good at those.

the boarding announcement goes off, you didn’t realise it’s time to bid goodbyes already. a part of you wishes the moment could last longer. you’ve missed jungwon, you’ve missed talking to him, you’ve missed hearing his voice. you’ve missed him so much over a weak, his absence didn’t miss you until now, and now that you’re leaving, you wish you could live this moment a little bit longer.

you smile at him, getting your passport out of your clutch. “okay, it’s time now,”

“it is,” and much to your pleasure, he smiles back.

“see you soon,” another announcement goes off, another reminder that it’s time to let go. “don’t forget me,”

“i wish i could,” just yesterday, it felt like you both were losing track of nights, for you both were busy living in the moment. you remember staying up on nights gushing to him about things you liked and didn’t as you fought off sleep for another hit— another line of conversation. you’d tell him all the embarrassing moments from riki’s childhood, he’d send you pictures of your boyfriend that would add onto that list. but now you both are here, standing in front of each other with minds still living in the past. you’re walking away and it feels like a final goodbye.

“jungwon,” you call his name, it feels like music to his ears. “thank you for falling for me,”

and jungwon is back at his dorm, your words ringing in his ears over and over again. you’re probably listening to your favourite songs, or perhaps, you’ve already fallen asleep. he knows how sleepy you get on planes, riki didn’t miss anything when jungwon told him he wanted to get to know you better the first time you two met. jake and heeseung are playing video games on television but the living room feels oddly quiet. jungwon feels like his ears have gone numb, he’s walking towards riki’s room.

a small conversation is shared in fluttering gazes, jungwon sits next to the younger boy. a few pats on the back— an attempt at consolation, an odd solace. both had their chances with love, both are heartbroken. jungwon is glad to have riki now that you’ve left.

and that makes the two of them.

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pedriscroquettes · 9 months

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𝐓𝐑𝐀 – FERMÍN LÓPEZ

summary. going clubbing doesn’t go as planned when your brother’s rival shows up to ruin the fun

warnings. fermín x paz!reader, f!oral, semi public s3x, fingering, & a cocky!fermín.

a/n. my brain worked overtime on this tbh. poor fran i completely slandered him in this. based off tra by bad gyal (catalan it girl)

the strobing lights were almost strong enough to blind you and half of the real madrid b squad. the dj seemed to be going through an existential crisis since he kept going back and forth between edm and reggaeton. you’re fortunate enough that he at least plays fiebre without remixing it or pausing it to try and drop a beat.

“joder.” your brother puffs clearly done with whoever he’s texting. (fuck.)

“is it the schedule?” you ask him wondering if this seasons schedule finally came out. it always got him worked up.

“no, this season seems like a good one. it’s just-” he sets his phone down before turning his head towards you.

“el boludo de agustin…” he takes a sip of his drink. he’s always been the most dramatic out of the two of you, clearly. (augustin’s dumbass.)

“nico, you already know that i’m not interested in him like that. he’s just my friend. ” you reassure him.

“no, i know and i don’t want to be an overbearing protective brother but mom would kill me if i let one of my teammates hurt you.” he sighs.

“nico i can take care of myself. don’t worry about me you’ve got a whole career ahead of you. focus on that instead.” you smile at him.

“i’m trying- joder” he scoffs again.

“now what?” you say concerned about the way his mood changed so quickly.

“look who just came in.” he nods towards the entrance.

you try to subtlety turn around but it’s almost impossible without doing a full 180 to see who your brother was talking about. your eyes immediately spot the three guys nico hated the most on the pitch. although out of all three of them only one stood out to you, fermín. you didn’t care for your brothers’ rivalries except for the one he had with the barcelona midfielder. not only did he bother nico but he bothered you as well. every time you were in barcelona he was always there with his annoying attitude.

“well, we are in their city.” you shrug trying to ignore their presence.

“there’s like a million other clubs here and out of all of them they arrive here it can’t be a coincidence.” he scoffs as if the three of the players had been following them.

“i’m not very fond of them either but you’re being ridiculous. we’re like ten minutes away from their training grounds i think it would be a coincidence that they’re here.” you explain logically.

“yeah what- you know what i’m just very stressed out about my whole nationality process right now. i’m gonna go get a drink. do you want anything?” he asks.

“no, it’s fine. just don’t indulge too much i do not want to take care of you again like in vigo.” you bring up the northern city into the conversation.

“you promised you wouldn’t bring that up again. that shit was so embarrassing.” he whines.

“i wasn’t the one who confessed their profound love for duki in his messages. i had to delete over ten voice notes of you singing, crying, and explaining why you’re better than emilia.” you burst out laughing.

“whatever, i’ll see you later.” he walked off.

you watched as your brother walked away either to find someone to flirt with or get another drink. he was the social sibling always outgoing and making friends as soon as he joined a new team. your house would always be full of people you hardly even knew. so you were surprised when his distaste for fermín began, your brother never held grudges. but then you met the devil himself and you realized why your brother disliked him.

he was arrogant, a total egomaniac, and an asshole. you remembered how nice he was to you when he first met you outside the stadium but as soon as he realized who’s sister you were he was always taunting you. you knew how serious rivalries were but you didn’t think it was that deep.

“hope your brother enjoyed my goal from the bench.” a voice interrupted your thoughts.

you look up to find him sitting in front of you replacing your brother. you’re studying his features when the chain around his neck distracts you. a cross. yet, he was somehow the worst person you knew. meanwhile, a smirk grows on his face as time passes and he realizes you’re not in a rush to get him to leave.

“milking a friendly today, are we?” you tease him.

“a friendly your brother spent at the bench the whole night.” he smirks.

“i’m starting to think you have a crush on my brother.” you laugh at him. “which probably explains why you always stalk my story every time we’re in town.”

“what are you talking about?” he scoffs at the accusation.

“felopez03? could you make it more obvious?” you manage to embarrass the barça player.

you had lied to your brother earlier. every time the two of you ran into fermín it was never a coincidence. you had debated on telling your brother about his secret admirer but quite frankly you loved the attention. you knew he always watched your stories when you were in town so you took advantage of that. posting pictures of yourself in short dresses, bikinis, and including some where the only thing covering your breasts were your hands. he always seemed to like those anyways.

“lópez is an extremely common last name.” he simply replies.

“good night fer.” you stood up and picked up your things.

“if you’re going to go like for your brother you won’t find him. saw him leave with a girl who looked very familiar. i think-” he paused debating on whether he should say what he was thinking. “i think i must’ve slept with her as well.”

you simply roll your eyes not wanting to be the victim of his ego. you check your phone and surely enough there’s a message from your brother. you can’t believe he’s left you alone with his teammates and the egomaniac to get laid.

nico 🐣: don’t wait up on me fran will take you home.

y/n: you left me alone to get laid? i hope she bites your dick off.

you shove your phone into your bag and begin looking around for fran. you spot the defender near the bar with a few of his teammates. you’ve avoided him for almost a month and the last thing you wanted tonight was to talk to him. the barça player seems to notice that too because as soon as you start walking towards fran he steps in front of you. you try to push him out of the way but he’s too strong.

“fer-” you sigh exhausted at his antics.

it all happens in a quick blur one minute you’re trying to shove fermin out of the way and the next you’re completely drenched in vodka. you’re not even sure how it happens but the girl in front of you is currently rambling about how sorry she was. you were a bit annoyed that the top you had just bought was now ruined but you could always borrow your brother’s card again.

“it’s okay. it’s fine don’t worry.” you try to calm her down because somehow she’s more upset about the situation than you are.

as soon as she leaves you head towards the bathroom hoping to dry off your shirt. you don’t realize that fermín has followed you into the bathroom until he shuts the door.

“what are you doing here?” you scoff.

“she spilled half of her drink on me too. must’ve tripped or something.” he murmured.

“and you came to dry your shirt in the women’s restroom?” you ask dumbfounded.

“well i can’t exact leave you alone in a bar full of strangers.” he shrugs.

“i know more than half of the people here.” you complain.

“yeah and they’re not exactly looking out for you. nico asked fran to take care of you and as far as i know he hasn’t come looking for you yet.” he bites back.

you murmur a quick ‘whatever’ before focusing on your top again. it’s completely wet from top to bottom so you have no other option but to take it off. you completely forget about fermín’s presence when you start walking around the restroom with your black lace bra and mini skirt. fermín tries his best to look away, to be respectful for once but you leave him in a trance. the view you give him is all too much and he decides to do something about it.

“here. it’s almost dry anyways.” he takes his shirt off and offers it to you.

your eyes linger on his toned body for too long you practically have to force yourself to look away. the dirty blonde finds himself smirking at your reaction. he walks closer to you hoping you’ll accept his peace offering. it begins to drive him mad how beautiful you look you in your current state. if he hadn’t been such a prick to you for the last couple of years maybe it’d be him taking you home and not fran. besides fran wouldn’t know what to do with all that.

you look at him again and throw your inhibitions out the window. your brother is the one who hates him on and off the pitch but not you. maybe just on the pitch but right now you were in a club bathroom without tops on. if your brother could have fun why couldn’t you?

“fer?” you turn around to look at him directly.

“hmm?” he puts his arm down realizing you won’t take his shirt.

“do you think i’m pretty?” you bat your eyelashes innocently.

he pauses not knowing how to respond. of course you looked pretty but he couldn’t exactly say that out loud. not if he wanted to keep up with the banter the two of you had. it would ruin the dynamic.

“it’s fine you don’t have to answer i’ll just go and ask fran.” you fake being upset and head for the door before fermín steps in front of you again.

“you can’t go out like that.” he panics.

“why? don’t you like my bra?” you tease him.

“joder tía pero tú estás loca.” he sighs frustrated. (fuck, you’re crazy.)

“i mean you’re the one who’s been liking all my stories. especially the ones where i leave little to the imagination.” you reach behind your back and unclasp your bra letting it hit the floor. you’re too far gone now. “you seem to really likes the ones where my breasts are showing though.”

he bites his lips trying to avoid his eyes from wondering. he can practically feel his pants getting tighter the closer you got to him. it was as if the room got smaller and ten times hotter. he’d always been so cocky with his hookups but you somehow made him lose his confidence. but then you said someone else’s name and he suddenly gained his ego back.

“do you think if i asked fran to fuck me he’d say yes?” was the question that threw him off.

his demeanor changed in an instant and suddenly he needed you right there in that bathroom. he knew you were probably just teasing him but he wasn’t going to lose you, not to fran at least.

“he’d probably finish in his pant just by seeing your tits and you’d go home upset.” you didn’t realize how much little space was left between the two of you until you saw both his arms on the sink. you were stuck between the sink and his shirtless body. “he’ll never satisfy you.”

“and you would?” you test his patience.

his hand finds its way onto your thigh and you realize you’ve finally gotten what you wanted. as your breath hitches his hand trails up and the look on his face proved he wanted this as much as you did. he pauses once he gets to your clothed core and looks up at you. you realize he’s asking for permission. you trail your hand down your body to where his hand is and carefully move your panties to the side.

“joder.” he groans at the sight. this is definitely not how he expected his night to go.

“fer.” you whine wanting him to touch you already.

his hands creeps up your throat you can feel his fingers getting closer to your lips. you know what he wants you to do so you open your mouth taking in two of his fingers. he watches intently as you suck on them making them wet enough to enter you. he takes a mental screenshot of you not wanting to forget about this moment. when you finally stop he places his fingers on your thigh again, teasing you. he’s gotten his ego back.

“fuck, you’re so wet.” he can feel the blood rushing to his dick as you you spread your legs for him.

you want to tell him to shut up and hurry up due to how needy you are but he finally drags his fingers over your core. a wave of pleasure rings through your body as he finally touches you. he circles your clit before dragging his fingers down to where you needed him the most. he enters you with one finger first thrusting it slowly letting you adjust. the room is filled with your incoherent moans and your acrylics dig into his free hand.

“oh, fuck.” is all you can say as he enters his second finger.

his thrusts begin to gain momentum as he sees how much you’re enjoying it. the feeling of having your walls squeeze his fingers is so surreal and he can’t resist the urge of reaching up to kiss you. the first kiss is long and sweet but as soon as you start kissing him back it gets heated. soon the kisses become short and needy and you can barely breathe between them. he grabs you by the hair pulling it to get better access to your neck and the pain turns into pleasure as he curls his fingers inside of you.

fermín expects you to tell him to not leave marks but you can’t help but want him to bite down on your neck. he leaves short peppered kisses on your neck before sucking and biting making sure that tomorrow you’ll have to hide your neck from your brother. he hears you panting and knows you’re getting close to coming undone. your hands run through his hair tugging on the strands as you get closer to your high.

and then suddenly you feel empty. his fingers are no longer thrusting inside of you and he pulls away from your lips. you’re about to yell at him when he kneels down in front of you and your eyes go wide. he spreads your legs further apart placing one on each shoulder. you can feel his breathe on your core and you’re not exactly sure you’re ready for what’s to happen. one lick is enough to make your head go back and your legs tremble.

his hold on your thighs get stronger and he dived in deeper. you pull on his hair harder each time he gets closer to your hole, clearly teasing you. he sucks on your clit and that’s enough to have you screaming out of pleasure. your moans are enough to raise his confidence and he brings his fingers back and enters you once again. his tongue and fingers are too much, he’s overstimulating you. you can feel your high approaching once again. this time he doesn’t stop he keeps going. he wants to see you reach your high.

“gonna cum all over my fingers?” he teases.

“fuck, yes.” you gasp barely having the strength to speak properly.

he somehow manages to go faster and you know you’re only a couple of thrusts away from cumming. then he adds in another finger and you’re a moaning mess. your juices squirt all over his fingers and pulls them out of you. he drags your fingers back towards your lips and you grant him access again. you lick them tasting yourself before he kisses you again. it’s a slow sensual kiss and then it happens you spot something moving in the background from the corner of your eye.

“fran.” you gasp at the sight of your brother teammates standing in the back shocked at the scene he walked into.

“what?” fermín pulls away confused at the sudden burst of fran’s name. that’s when he spots fran in the mirror and instead of being ashamed he can’t help but smirk.

that is until you push him off of you and fix yourself. you grab fermín’s shirt without a second thought and fix your skirt embarrassed about being caught and by fran of all people. fran’s disappointment is visible but you really don’t care about his feelings at the moment but rather about whether or not he’ll tell your brother.

“my shirt!” fermín yells.

“you’re a man you can walk around without a shirt.” you say as you get your purse from the sink.

fran walks out not wanting to witness more of what he’s already seen. you have no choice but to follow him since he was your designated driver for the night. but once again fermín steps in front of you and stops you from leaving. he leans down and kisses you and you can’t help but kiss him back.

“next time leave the bodyguard at home.” is all he tells you before stepping aside letting you leave.

that night you fell asleep in his shirt. you’re definitely looking forward to the next game your brother has in barcelona.

#i want him now #fermin lopez x reader #fermin lopez smut #fermin lopez imagine #football smut #football imagine #gabri writes #request

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orchidyoonkook · 1 year

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To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 2

Title: Unknown Numbers and Sharp Tongues

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: You get a text from an unknown number and it flips your day upside down.

Warnings: PG13, mild swearing, arguments

Word Count: 3065

Release Date: February 2, 2023, 1:40PM

A/N 1: She’s shorter but just as important

Series: Chapter One

It’s 12:07pm the Wednesday after the assembly. You're sitting on your bed sketching when a text vibration sounds from somewhere within the blankets crumpled beneath you.

A pencil lead stained hand carefully snakes its way through the sheets to find your phone, and after locating it by your feet, you see a message from an unknown number waiting to be read.

Unknown Sender [12:07pm]: Hey, is this YN?

You raise a brow at the semi-suspicious text.

Normally when this happens, you just delete the message. You have everyone you're willing to speak with in your contacts already, so you know that it’s most likely spam. But the difference with this one?

They know your name.

That being said, your guy friends back home have been known to, on occasion, pull shit because they know you can’t do anything about it.

Though, that has never once stopped you from waiting to see them again in person and retaliating. Patience is a virtue and all that, but you think they’d of learned by now…

So you fire back, just in case.

You [12:08pm]: Hobi I s2g if this is you again I’m sending Nayeon that picture of you from 9th grade with shutter shades on and your ass stuck in a tuba

Unknown Sender [12:08pm]: Oh wow, uhm…no, its not Unknown Sender [12:09pm]: But remind me never to get on your bad side. Unknown Sender [12:10pm]: It’s Jungkook actually... I may have grabbed your number from Yuri’s phone. I hope it’s okay I messaged you

Jungkook?

As in The Prince of the Western Shores, Jungkook?

Well...

This certainly isn’t how you thought your afternoon was going to go.

You figured you'd never hear from him again after Monday’s assembly, like everyone else he’d greeted—Yuri aside apparently. Yet here you were, on your bed, in your university dorm room, having a midday text conversation with Prince Jeon Jungkook of all people.

You laugh to yourself and quickly change his name in your contacts, keeping it subtle. You don’t want someone to see his name pop on your screen and then suddenly have a legion of people harassing you about how you got the prince's number, and if they could get it from you.

You [12:11pm]: yeah, it’s fine

And why wouldn't it be? You don’t dislike him, though he seemed to have thought so. Sure, you don’t particularly like the guy yet, but you're confident he feels the same about you—if he even thinks of you, that is.

He probably just wants recommendations for things to do this weekend or to know where the cleanest washrooms on campus are. God forbid his royal bottom touch a less than sanitary toilet seat.

PJK [12:13pm]: Im afraid she had to explain to me who ‘blueballzbitch’ was when I accidentally saw your text to her the other day. Apparently my reaction after reading it was very funny

You [12:13pm]: I cant believe she still hasnt changed my name in her phone! That bitch!! she promised :( You [12:14pm]: Thats only my name because i told her she couldnt bring guys back to our dorm after 1 AM anymore!

PJK [12:14pm]: can I ask why?

You [12:15pm]: there may have been an incident of a very drunk half naked man climbing into my bed at 4 am instead of hers…. You [12:15pm]: And needless to say, not the nicest way to wake up

PJK [12:16pm]: no I would think not. Though that explains her reaction a bit better

You didn’t even want to know.

She did kick that guy out the second she heard your scream though, drunk as she was. But it didn’t stop her from moping for a week at your new rule.

Tough, you’d had a test the next day, so your decision was final.

Your academics wouldn’t pay the price for someone else’s actions. On that you were and always have been, firm. You’ve even lost a few friends because of it.

But now your starting to wonder why he wanted to message you in the first place.

You [12:17pm]: i dont mean to be rude, but why did you save my number? To be honest i didnt think I’d hear from you again after monday

PJK [12:18pm]: well if we’re being honest…

There are a million different ways he could follow that sentence, and your mind is simultaneously running through all of them.

It takes him a few minutes, and a couple disappearance and reappearances of the texting in progress bubble, before a reply comes. Your pencil may or may not be a bit chewed on the end as a result.

PJK [12:21pm]: I was hoping that we could be friends, or acquaintances at least. I dont mean to come on too strong, its just that…. well you’re the only one whos really treated me like a regular guy, and i’d like to have at least one person to speak to who wont ‘glaze over the truth with pretty white lies’ just because of who I am. Its a surprisingly hard attribute to come by in people when you have words like “prince” and “your highness” attached to your name PJK [12:22pm]: Everyone either wants something from me or something I can do for them, and when we met? I could see you just…didn’t. It’s like you didnt even care I was there and that was incredibly refreshing for me PJK [12:23pm]: so um, yeah… that’s why

Oh…

Oh.

You were expecting anything else. Like literally anything else. He could’ve messaged you saying he wanted to give up being prince to join a traveling circus and was wondering if you knew the quickest train route into town and you would’ve been less surprised than you are right now.

But…Friends? He just wanted to be friends?

You guess you played your part a little too well on Monday. A part you didn't even realize you were performing.

Was it really so difficult for people to treat him normally that the only person who had done so in three days, was you? And it was so noticeable that he sought you out because of it? His professors, at least, would have treated him like any other student…right?

You sit up, sketch long discarded on your bedside table.

What would Yuri think about this? What would Nel think? Jungkook isn't just some guy from your Advanced Colour Theory class, he's the prince of your kingdom.

You know your boyfriend wouldn't care if Jungkook kissed your hand in a passing greeting, that’s the standard greeting for every woman.

But friends?

Regular contact?

Potentially being seen in public with him?

Even a high ranking societal man would feel threatened, let alone Nel; the highschool boy you fell in love with from your tiny hometown.

Biting your lip, you think.

You’re not an idiot. You know if people see you—a girl—hanging out with Jungkook—the prince, but more importantly, a boy—publicly, they will start talking. You know how the media make grand stories from two anonymously sourced, out of context quotes and a grainy picture from 100 feet away.

What you don’t know is if you would or even could handle the public speculation that came with that.

You don't want the media to come between you and your education. You don’t want to be at the center of attention. You worked way too hard to get where you are to have it washed away with a shitty ‘Prince Jungkook's college fling’ article that holds headlines for less than a week before the news cycle changes.

Your credibility would be gone in an instant. And you’d only ever be remembered as ‘that girl the prince probably slept with in college.’

You should say no.

You’re going to say no.

—Wait.

Are you even allowed to say no?

Your phone pings again.

PJK [12:24pm]: i really just want my university experience to be as normal as possible before having to trade it all in for a crown and kingdom. It’s my last shot to experience life as a person before becoming a symbol and im hoping youll be kind enough to help me with that PJK [12:24pm]: but i understand if you dont want to. Like i said in my speech, im not unaware of the repercussions of my celebrity, and its effects on others, both positive and negative. So please by all means, whatever answer you give, i’ll understand

Shit.

Shit!

Now you’ll feel like an ass if you say no, and you know that wasn’t his intention with the message, but you can't help it. He just wants to be as ordinary as he can be for a while. That isn’t a lot to ask—of anybody.

After re-reading his messages about a dozen more times, you find your entire view of Jungkook shifting in an instant.

Maybe he was the spoiled, rich, and plate delivered opportunities prince you expected him to be, but funnily enough, somewhere along the way it was you who forgot that he was an regular person. Just like you had told Yuri such a short time ago, and just like you now had to remind yourself.

Jungkook’s really not much different than someone without all the special features his title brings him.

And with that in mind, you know your reply.

You [12:30pm]: can i think about it?

And not seconds later.

PJK [12:30pm]: absolutely.

A breath you didn’t know you were holding releases.

PJK [12:31pm]: that’s already further than i thought i’d get—if we’re still being honest.

You [12:33pm]: im always honest, you dont have to worry about that. And same goes for you, dont worry about being truthful with me. Lies only create problems, and i dont have the time for them

PJK [12:35]: glad to hear it. I look forward to your answer, whenever and whatever you decide

Gently tossing your phone back onto your bed, you leave the conversation at that. You know you wouldn’t be able to make your mind up without going through all possible outcomes in your head first. And Yuri is usually a good enough listener to pipe in with decent advice now and then.

So, for now, you pick up your pencil and sketch pad, and wait for Yuri to return from her afternoon class.

A few hours later, and a decent way through your third life study, Yuri bursts through the front entryway. Your bedroom door’s open, and you’ve got a clear view of her shucking off her shoes and outer layers after casting her books onto the dining room table.

So much for your focus.

But you're glad she’s back, your conversation with Jungkook from earlier is still wracking your brain.

“YN, Sweets! You are NEVER going to believe the day I’ve had!” Yuri makes her way over to your bed, inhaling deeply enough you know a monologue is about to follow.

“Me too! But you first,” you slip in before the floodgates burst, knowing all her focus will be solely centered on you the second you mention Jungkook reaching out.

“Jungkook invited me to lunch!”

Or maybe not.

“Well sort of, that’s why I’m late getting back. He asked if there was a more secluded place to eat on campus,” she says the word like it’s a secret. Like she thinks he asked for seclusion to have it be a more intimate setting with her, versus a more private space for him.

“So I showed him that little cafe behind the greenhouse that no one ever goes to cuz it’s too far away from central campus—you know the one that might as well just be a part of the greenhouse cuz of how close it is?”

You nod. You were very familiar with that cafe, frequently going there to paint the flowers in the windows, and also, to think. But she doesn’t know that. It was sort of a safe haven for you, because like she said, it wasn’t a very popular place on campus, so it was quiet.

You didn’t know Yuri even knew about it.

Now sitting criss-crossed on the end of your bed, she continues, “Yeah, so I brought him there and we both got coffee, then I got a croissant and he got a sandwich. But YN, get this: we take. our coffee. the. same. way. Try and tell me we’re not made for one another now! Same major, same coffee, next thing you know we’ll be finding out we’d picked out the same baby names.”

She stops to take a breath and you take your cue. “Woah there, Yurls, slow down a bit on that last one,” she makes a face at you. You ignore it. “But I think it’s great you're making a new friend that you have common interests with and are excited about,” you say, putting extra emphasis on ‘friend,’ thinking back to your conversation with Jungkook about people only ever wanting things he could give them. Surely you could subtly help your friend this way. “Just try to remember you have to be friends first before anything else happens.”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Friends? YN please! We’re practically already dating, that’s three times in as many days he’s asked to hang out,” she closes her eyes, hugging herself. “I can almost hear the wedding bells.”

You look at her plainly and try your best not to sigh.

She must know that this is just Jungkook taking her up on her offer, right? The one she made after seeing him off to the cafe by the biz-admin building the other day?

Before they parted ways, Yuri’d mentioned to him that if he wanted more inside knowledge or help getting around the campus he could ask her. And it made sense, having all their classes in the same area, when he said, ‘I’ll take you up on that.’

You know, because not unlike this conversation, she’d rushed home right after to tell you.

Jungkook’s just trying to get his bearings in what is clearly still a very new experience for him and Yuri’s reading into it all wrong.

You look at your friend who’s staring dreamily at nothing, more than likely caught up in whatever wedding scenarios of herself and Jungkook her brain is creating.

Waving a fruitless hand in front of her face before snapping your fingers, you break her trance. “Helloooo? Earth to Yuri, come back down here please so I can talk some sense into youuuuu.”

“I’m here,” she says, smacking your hand away playfully, gaze snapping to your less than amused one. Her smile falters at the sight. “What’s that look for?”

“Oh nothing, just that you sound like a delusional teenager instead of a functional adult at university pursuing a degree. You just met the guy three days ago and you’re already picturing your wedding together? Because you hung out over coffee twice and showed him where his classes are? He’s still a stranger, Yuri. Can’t you hear yourself?”

Her expression quickly changes to one of offense, and maybe even hurt.

Perhaps you’d been a little too honest, but it’s not like this was new for you two. Sometimes she needed a swift blow to knock her down and she knows this, she knows you’d never intend to hurt her feelings. You always wanted what was best for her, and you know she feels the exact same way for you.

So you’re shocked when she says, “You know you don’t have to be such a bitch about it if you’re going to be jealous,” crossing her arms defensively.

Jealous? You are anything but jealous, and you wonder why that’s where her mind jumps to first, brows scrunching in confusion.

“I’m not jealous. Have you forgotten about Nel? Boyfriend of five years, highschool sweetheart, ringing a bell?”

“Nel’s not a prince YN,” she counters in a tone so even, it’s unsettling. “And it wouldn’t be so unheard of for a woman in a relationship to be jealous of her friend who’s in one with a prince she wants for herself.”

Oh, so that’s where she wants to go with this. She thinks that Jungkook will somehow make you forget about the five wonderful years with Nel. Like half a decade measures up to nothing if it means getting someone with a better name and a bigger paycheck.

Fine.

If she wants to get bitchy about it, so will you.

“Yeah, well it’s a good thing you’re not dating one then, isn’t it? Don’t get so defensive when all I’m doing is trying to help you see that.”

Yuri stands dramatically from the bed, clearly pissed, and storms out of your room, grabbing her things from the dining room table.

“I’m going to my macroeconomics class. By the time I get back, either have your door closed, or don’t be here.”

She leaves as rushed as she came, and you try not to flinch at the front door slamming shut, but do anyway.

You shove your work off to the side, bringing your knees up to rest your elbows on while the palms of your hands cover your eyes, giving yourself a moment to breathe and process.

This isn’t the first time this has happened and it certainly won't be the last. It was a downside between your personalities. You were the anchor who kept her from soaring too high in the clouds, just like she was the helium that kept you from drowning.

But sometimes she wanted to see the stars, and sometimes you were scared of the surface.

Releasing a deep breath, you decide to head out, having finished school for the day anyway. You only had morning classes on Wednesdays—an intentional scheduling on your behalf to have somewhat of a break midweek. You work hard but also know that burnout can kill.

Switching out your pencils for watercolour paint trays, and your sketchpad for your watercolour paper, you decide that the greenhouse sounded great right about now, especially now that you knew Yuri wouldn’t be there.

There isn’t a better place for you to go and blow off some steam.

Tossing your brushes, materials, travel water and wallet in a tote, you slide on your shoes and leave the dorm. The door closes much quieter this time.

Chapter Three: Greenhouse Muses and Surprise Guests

A/N 2: I’m pretty sure this is the shortest chapter in the series (so far) but as you’ve read it’s an important step so I hope that’s okay!

<- Back

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ilyamatic · 9 months

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To Hold Me Like Water

Song: Who We Are by Hozier

The mess starts here

CW: Drug Use

Andrico wished he could look back at his time with Julian fondly. That when he was old and gray and telling his grandkids about “the good ol’ days” he could say Julian’s name with a smile. Tell them about how they met at a charity gala thrown by the local queer center. Tell them about despite the black tie dress code, the man showed up with his tux jacket open and his dress shirt barely buttoned. That despite the fact Julian was not Andrico’s usual type, he couldn’t keep his eyes off him.

Maybe he would have told his grandkids that they ended up talking all night. That they danced so close, that it felt like something straight out of a romance novel. Maybe he would tell them about how they kissed.

(Andrico would leave out the part where they ran off giggling to the sectioned off area of the venue, some historic courthouse or something. He wouldn’t say a word about the bubbly champagne turning to butterflies in his stomach. He wouldn’t dare breathe a word of how easily he fell to his knees.

“I just want to get my mouth on you,” he said as he fiddled the button on Julian’s pants.

Those red stained cheeks and lust-blown eyes were memories held close to his heart)

Instead, Andrico had this. A pounding headache and a breaking heart.

“I hope you don’t mind that I, uh, stuck around,” Julian began. “I didn’t know what you took so I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

Andrico ignored him as he poured a bit of coke onto his coffee table. No better way to combat a cocaine hangover. Hair of the dog and all that.

“I don’t think you should do that,” the other man said, suddenly far too close.

“And I think you should mind your own fuckin’ business,” Andrico hissed.

“Dunya,” Julian said sternly. “It isn’t good to bombard your body with so much drugs after being sober for as long as you’ve been. You’re at risk of –”

“Oh what the fuck do you care!” he snapped.

“Dunya–”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Of course I care about you!”

Andrico’s laugh was sharp. An ugly, hurting thing.

“Is this how you show your care,” Andrico said airily. “Dazzling me with romance only to disappear when you get bored?”

Julian looked as if he were struck. “What are you talking about? I could never be bored of you.”

“You left me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Julian said, voice cracking.

“You did it three times.”

Andrico could feel his own tears well up. Goddamnit.

“You left me three times,” he continued. “And I took you back whenever you decided to show back up. Welcomed you with open arms even. How pathetic is that?”

“Dunya–”

“I said don’t call me that.”

Julian’s mouth shut with an audible click.

“I kept taking you back, forgiving you without question. And for what? For you to leave again?”

“Dun– uh, Andrico, please let me explain,” Julian begged.

“What is there to explain? What is an explanation going to change? Is it going to unbreak my heart? Will it stop you from ghosting me?”

Andrico could feel himself break bit by bit. But he refused to fall apart in front of this man. Not again.

“Honestly Julian, if you care half as much as you say you do, you would leave and stay gone. Delete my number, forget my face. Fuck it, die for all I care. Just get out of my fucking life!"

He hadn’t meant to shout it. He hadn’t meant to say it at all. But he had, the words bouncing off the walls like a death knell. Such a shame. Such a relief.

“Is that truly what you want?” Julian said, his voice suddenly so so small.

Andrico did not hesitate. “More than anything.”

A beat of silence. And then–

“Well, I suppose that’s it.”

Andrico wished he could look back at his time with Julian fondly. Maybe even get a happy ending despite it all. Instead he had this. An empty apartment, the lingering scent of sea salt and burnt wood. Broken picture frames at his feet. Such a relief.

Such a shame.

#the arcana #julian devorak #the arcana julian #ilya devorak #the arcana ilya #modern au #spicy sorta #andrico the soft chaos boy/girl/barrel of crabs

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burgycreeper405-blog · 1 year

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a messy rant talk cuz am angy

bruh, osc twitter is so fnckin toxic like, they just gave me extreme trust issues that i just start to not follow or even interact with anyone outside of my friend circle immediately even if they art is cool and chet cuz whenever i interact with anyone (like follow, reply or somthin) they will go and block me bcuz someone tells them that i did something bad without even knowing what it is, yet they believe them like they know me better

and the only thing i did was ship knife and mic, ive known that the siblings hc is everywhere and i asked allot of times why its so popular, yet no one is telling me so i did my own search about it but noooo they be harassing and spamming me in quote retweets and calling me out and chet for an info that a newcomer wouldnt know instead of just dm-ing me,, they fr had to tell the public about it

like bro, i just joined not even a year in, just a month in, yet they harassing me like ive been here since day one

and might i let you know that the “proof” they be spamming me is almost a decade old, like, they didnt even ask the person if theyre still okay with it or not, a friend of mine has to ask them about it and guess what, he doesnt even mind it anymore

and then them saying “we reached out to burgy but they did nothing” like??? did my thread that i did and deleting the microknife art mean nothing?? even if the person said that its not even a big deal anymore?? yall need to get more info than just info that’s decades ago cuz like, you do know people change right?

and just cuz i posted that thread a day late cuz like bro, i was tryna write it as clear as possible yet that is nothing to you???

like yeah, i blocked some people but they were spamming and harrassing the frick out of me and chet like dude, i get it, your proof is a decade old, try and see if its still accurate sheesh, shut up, i have never blocked anyone unless theyre being annoying, and thats what i did, i unblocked them a few days later

and now its about the GKGG au??? like bro, it’s an au, obviously its different from canon, and now bcuz of that, my friend has to do an explanation about it here even if it’s so obviously obvious (they even explained there on twitter that the backstory is different from canon, but i guess they don’t know how to read)

haysst

i am so glad that i decide to just keave twitter, ive been wanting to leave twitter since a long time ago cuz i dont even know what to do with it than just like my friends’ & brother’s post and funny retweets and CoryxKenshin says to follow him on twitter/hj

and now, i finally dumped that bird app on the trash cuz, my dash was so full of osc people that i dont even want to interact cuz my gosh, every week is just full of callouts and stuff,and like, they just be bringing up old drama, like even if the person theyre calling out is trying to change and chet or just even the drama was like months or years ago, they be bringing it up like its nothing, like the person didnt apologized and stuff, and what’s worse, people believes the one who did the callout post, they didnt look if what theyre saying is true or not like dude, whats worse is if it’s a fresh wound and the person is trying to change, but i guess the osc twitter doesnt understand the word “sorry” even if you did a whole essay about how sorry you are, it’s like they dont even wait for the other half side of the story bro

two months in knowing and drawing ii and the osc twitter was so toxic like bro, i dont think i can handle years being there, let alone just a month like sheesh

aight

here’s a old random sketch of Katie and a oc named Erick from my tlm superhero au as a, i dunno, a thank you i guess? if you took the time to read all dat, i dunno

i wanna draw more of them,,

#burgy talks

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whumping-in-the-wings · 2 years

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Okay folks, I don’t usually rant about my real-life goings-on here on this blog, and I don’t usually talk about my disability all that much. But I’ve just had something happen to me, and I feel like it needs to be shared.

Today in college I had my nutrition professor accuse me of lying, and drop my grade by 30% when I handed in an assignment that involved tracking what I ate for three days. She was insistent that no one could possibly eat as little or as plainly as I do. She claimed that I must have half-assed the assignment and only listed some things, instead of tracking everything I ate. She demanded to know why I hadn’t listed many sides, or condiments, or beverages other than water and my morning coffee.

I explained myself. I have cerebral palsy and spastic diplegia. I also work a very demanding job as a theatre performer. I don’t do a lot of physical activity when I can help it, because it hurts, and because I need to save my energy to be able to do my job. Not doing a lot of physical activity over a long period of time can lead to, you guessed it, a slowed metabolism. I don’t eat much, because I don’t need to eat much. (And on show days, when I am active, I can pack it away as well as anybody, believe me).

I’m perfectly healthy. I’m just disabled. And this woman decided to believe that one of those things could not possibly be true, because she had “never heard” of a slowed metabolism being a symptom of cerebral palsy. She is an able-bodied woman. She has never experienced what it is to live in a body like mine. And yet, because my experience didn’t match up to what she thought it should be, she decided that she was the one who was right, and I was the one who was lying.

I’m not sharing this story to get sympathy. I’m already planning to escalate the situation as far as I need to in order to get this fixed. But I just thought it should be shared, as an example of one key thing that I’ve experienced so many times as a disabled person whose disability isn’t always visible:

A disability may not look the way you think it does. A disability might not match up with what Google says it should. A disability might look a certain way in one person, and completely different in another.

You. Don’t. Know.

No one should ever be made to feel like I was today, that because I didn’t experience my condition the way this nutritionist and her textbook said I should, I was lying or making it up. No one should ever assume that they know what something feels like, or looks like.

I might delete this later, I don’t know. It’s extremely personal for me to post something like this, and I don’t even know if I made sense all the way through. But for now, I just felt like I should say it.

Disabled people don’t have to “look” disabled. Disabled people don’t have to experience their disability the way you decide they should.

Disabled people should be allowed to exist, in whatever way they want or need to, without being questioned for it.

#not whump #disabled community #disability #freya rants about things

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talesofarcadiaforever · 1 year

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I'm updating DR!Merlin's design!

(And hopefully this will be the last time.)

I’m not going to delete the original post I made ages ago because it details the saga of how I got the idea to redesign him (and then eventually make him my own version), it has a writing blurb that I still like there, and I got of a couple of really nice compliments!

I made several collages to show how he looks more instead of just describing it, and I’ll explain the reasons behind picking the images in them!

General Looks:

I made his bust in Artbreeder!

After @rule-number-3 drew him with a widow’s peak, I wanted to incorporate that into his design.

Second up is his hairstyle! I’ve wanted him to have a ponytail for so dang long, even before I started coming with ideas for a redesign! I’d always wanted it to be mid-high usually, with it tied up into a bun when he’s in his armor; and either loosened or completely down for sleep. The picture got his hair length right too! When it’s fully down, it’s halfway down his back. It’s also very thick, and he’s 6'7", so that’s a lot of hair!

His hair and eyebrow color is definitely the easiest part of his redesign, because it’s just having them match now. It was a little harder to find the photo I wanted at first. I had to keep weeding out options 😂.

I’d finally gotten down to two choices for his new eye color. I had the option I have in the collage, and a more natural looking eye. I didn’t know which one to choose, so I asked @donkeyklone for his opinion; and after what I explained what it was for, he said to go for that option! He said it looks more magical, which fits his status as a wizard and cambion. :D

He’s very sleep deprived from insomnia, nightmares, etc., so I googled eyebags and chose the worst looking ones I could find lol.

His skin color was actually taken straight from his face! I just made a little square in IbisPaintX and colored it in!

One design element that I wanted to keep from Canon!Merlin was his hands. They’re wide with short fingernails and no visible veins, but that could just be the art style. The hand I found matched what I was looking for perfectly!

And last off for this collage, I decided that his body type would be realistically muscular, give all the fighting he’s done, but it took me a little bit to find the right amount of muscle I wanted. I didn’t want him to look like a bodybuilder, but I also didn’t want him to be too lean.

TW/CW for scars! Some are these are pretty graphic!

Scars:

Some of these are more to show the texture of the scars than location. I also haven’t figured out the whole backstory behind them yet, so these are more of summarizations.

The knife scar on his neck was from a murder attempt after his magic was discovered by people who hated magic.

The claw marks on his chest are from a beast attack; not sure what yet.

His burn marks are from when he was burned with holy fire. (Burns from holy water go away; burns from holy fire don’t.)

The knife scar on his arm is actually from his wrist to his elbow, and it was specifically torture.

The whip marks on his back are from another time he was tortured.

The claw marks on his back are from other beasts.

His stretch marks are from puberty! Since he’s half-demon, he probably grew really fast during that time, and I think that he’d probably have stretch marks from it. Also yes I’m projecting.

The knife scar on his left leg is from when he stabbed during a fight.

The bite scar on his right leg is from another beast.

Cambion form:

I’m so excited to talk about this because I haven’t really done that yet, but DR!Merlin is a cambion! :D Here’s some backstory about his birth. He also has a name for his other true form:“Blood Moon!Merlin.” @donkeyklone was the source for it, as he was thinking I could call it that since his whole “shtick is the moon” according to him 😂. I imagine someone described him as looking like a blood moon after seeing him, since cambions have a wide variety of colors.

For his horns, I went through several options, but the one in the collage was my favorite photo by far. I love how big they are!

His hair color is still the same despite all the changes between forms.

His facial markings are inspired by concept art that features him with some! I tried to get the swirl-like markings as close as possible at first, but then I just chose my favorite picture.

They even show up in his human form; mainly when he’s having visions or entering his avatar state™️. I don’t know what else to call it.

And pointy ears, also featured in the above photo, are always cool!

His eye color is to match with the rest of his form, and red is pretty default for a demon anyway. 😂 Slitted eyes are always awesome too!

For his fangs, I chose a photo that had both top and bottom fangs.

I chose the photo that best matched the idea of what I wanted for his claws.

For his wings, I just googled red wings png. It was one of the first results!

His skin color was picked from another photo of red eyes, and @donkeyklone sent me the tail!

Armor:

I love his armor so much, even if it has been through a few revamps.

I made his outer helmet, faceplate, and breastplate in Artbreeder!

I found his gauntlets after googling black gauntlets.

His cape pattern is the ocean because the moon controls the tides, and I wanted him to have more general night motifs besides just stars!

I think I’ve said this before, but his armor is BIG. It’s not formfitting like Jim’s and Morgana’s, and that idea was inspired by these concept arts. I was also able to find a photo that illustrated it more clearly on Artstation!

Unfortunately Jim isn’t as realistic proportions wise, but this is the size difference between their armor!

His cape color is picked from this photo of the ocean! Besides it matching the black of his armor, it also opposes Morgana’s sky blue cape. 😉

Weapons:

These are just a few of the weapons Merlin uses throughout the DR-verse!

I made his staff, sword, and shield in Artbreeder! I wanted to keep his staff mostly the same, except making it slightly more fantasy like, because DR!Merlin is more straight up magical fantasy than magi-tech.

His sword is covered in stars with a silver handle to match his night motifs better. Besides that, a master wizard having a normal sword is so silly to me.

I gave him a shield because they’re awesome, and yes, I want to see him smash the crap out of a villain while they’re trying to talk.

I chose a bow as another weapon for him because his staff does turn into a bow in some concept art!

Sometimes he wields an axe in more close combat situations, same with the dagger.

His shield’s shape is long and angular, and it goes down to his feet when he holds it in front him.

The sword whip is for more of a long range combat situation, and his magic allows to extend as far as he needs it to.

Camelot outfit:

In Emerald Embers, he doesn’t wear his armor 24/7, so here’s his Camelot outfit design!

His earrings are full moons because of his night motif, like his armor! Since the night means safety to many magical creatures, him always wearing some version of night themed accessories is a secret way of signaling he’s safe to approach. He also finds them pretty.

I found his cape clasps by just searching for cape clasp designs on Pinterest, and they’re perfect because they remind him of Charlie. (At the start of Emerald Embers, he’s been gone for over a thousand years.) I need to make a post about his redesign too. And why they separated.

His necklace is the one he made for his sister, Ganieda, as her wedding gift. It’s very, very special to him, as it’s one of the few things he has left of her.

I was trying to make his outfit historically accurate, and I found out that bliauts were popular back then!

His pants were ones that I’d chosen for a reference when I first came up with a possible design for his outfit! That was a long time ago, but it’s still on my tablet. It’s currently broken. 💀

Him having a cape was inspired by @tenyai’s storyboards of him having one! It’s one element of his outfit that I’ve always kept, even if I did change the rest.

For his belt, I just looked up medieval belts and chose my favorite.

His boots took a little while to choose. I wanted him to have heeled boots, shamelessly inspired by Dracula in Netflix’s adaptation of Castlevania, but finding one that I could choose was another story. But I eventually did!

His ring is actually his staff in disguise! He wears it on his right middle finger.

Last off, his bracelet is more of a pretty accessory that doesn’t really have special meaning to him.

And that’s all for now! Of course, he’s going to have more outfits eventually lol.

#mine #talesofarcadiaforever rambles #talesofarcadiaforever makes things #tales of arcadia #trollhunters #wizards #toa redesigns #toa fanfiction #Daylight’s Redemption #Emerald Embers #Journey by Daylight #Merlin Ambrosius #DR!Merlin

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captainsy-cookiemonster · 1 year

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Escape From Immortality

Summary: It is the year 2054. Scientists have discovered a way for humans to stop aging and extend life indefinitely. In order to keep the surplus population in check, for every person that undergoes the treatment and is made immortal, another person has to die.

Warnings: talks of death

A/N: i wrote this for a project (a story we had to record on audio, only topic was the future) for uni. it’s not very good, but i still decided to post it on here. it’s not a fanfic but my first original story.i got the prompt from a prompt site, but when editing this from script to story, i stupidly deleted where i got it from, still full credit to that site for the prompt.

Word count: 1410

When I can finally close the door behind me, I wish I could just lean my back against it and slowly slide to the floor. Today has been exhausting. Instead, I toss my keys onto the dresser and toe off my shoes, then I can get cozy on the couch and think about what to make for dinner. That’s when I notice the pile of mail on the floor. With a sigh, I pick up the envelopes and shuffle through them on my way over to the couch.

“Ad, ad, bill, ad… hm?” I stop dead in my tracks. “ImmortechLabs? What the…?”

Confused and with shaking hands, I rip open the envelope and skim the letter

“Dear Miss Sutton… here at ImmortechLabs we provide our clients with eternal youth...in order to keep population stable… our client has chosen to halt their aging process, ensuing… immortality??

therefore we must inform you that you have been randomly selected… to die?!”

That has to be some sick joke!

“As compensation, $500k will be divided among your descendants –”

But I don’t even-! What the hell?!

“We understand that this might be difficult to take in.”

Uh, yeah...

“You can contact our support hot line every day from receiving this letter until your transport to our facilities, giving you two weeks to come to terms with your sacrifice.”

Sacrifice?! they’re kidding!

And what’s that about descendants? it’s gotta… they made some mistake, for sure. Now, let’s see that hot line…

I pace the living room while I wait for someone to pick up, growing more nervous with every second that passes. So nervous that I can’t help but jump when I hear the unmistakable costumer service voice from the other end of the line – not that I’m able to concentrate on what the lady is saying.

“Yes, hello, uhm… So I got this letter in the mail today telling me that in two weeks from now, you’d come pick me up? That I’ve been chosen as, uh, sacrifice? I… that’s got to be a mistake. What do you mean “No, ma’am”? Of course there has to be some mistake! Listen: I’m 25, I don’t have any descendants, no-one. who’d you give that money to? My cat? Me?”

I pause to listen to her explain.

“Yeah… thought so. So… there has to be some mistake. The system says it’s all correct like that? Nonononono, it can’t be!” I let out a sigh of defeat. “There is nothing you can do? Hm… okay well, then… thank you.”I add a muttered “for nothing” before hanging up.

I slump down on the couch, feeling discouraged, close to crying. So, that’s it. I’m gonna die in two weeks. Because some rich asshole doesn’t want to. Well, I don’t want to, either? What about me? What.about.me? My life? What if at some point I wanted to undergo the treatment as well? Why me? Why now? Why?

Before I know it, tears are streaming down my face. I don’t even try to stop them. I just take a pillow from next to me and scream and sob into it. And I keep doing that for probably hours. I only stop when my head starts to hurt and no more tears come.

The room is dark, the sun has long set. Two yellow eyes peer out of the darkness, illuminated by the dim light of the street lamp outside.

I half sniffle half chuckle, then call her over. “Come here, Luna.”

She comes running and jumps onto my lap immediately. I wipe the last tears off my face with my sleeve before scratching under her little chin.

“What am I going to do with you, hm?”

From the way she looks at me, I’m not sure if she understood me or not.

~~~

I don’t even bother going into work the next day. What’s the point anyway? In two weeks time, I’ll be dead. Why spend that time slaving for a heartless company when I can wallow in self-pity instead? So after a morning spent crying over my impending death, I decide that that’s not my future.

After grabbing my phone from the nightstand and opening the browser, I hesitate a second before opening an incognito tab.

What if they’ll find out?

But I quickly discard of that thought. The way things are now, I’ll die anyway.

Now, what to search…? Immortech escape? Ugh, no, that’s not what I’m looking for. Noo. Again. Come on! there’s gotta be something.

Oh, there’s a whole forum for that. Looks sketchy, but I guess in this case...Is it a good thing?

I read in horror as I learn about people who were dragged out of their homes screaming and crying if they resisted to go with the Immortech people willingly. How sometimes people would just disappear before the two weeks between the letter and pickup had passed. How in a few cases, people were being watched and followed before they were taken. I remember back in school, kids would come in crying one day, saying their mom was taken. They would be scolded for it and told to go to the principal’s office.

You’re not allowed to mention the letter or that you have been selected. I don’t understand why, though. It’s not like they can punish you for it when you’ll die anyway. So why that rule? So people can’t protest against it? If it’s all hush hush?

But then there were reports, all without naming names of course, of people successfully escaping. Sometimes it was even described how they did it. Apparently Immortech’s ‘headhunters’ how they called them, aren’t allowed to operate abroad. So as soon as you cross a border, you’re safe!

They would chase you, it was dangerous, but ultimately you can escape and survive.

So I could do it. I could make it. And I’ll risk it.

Before I begin to pack, I sneak up to my window and watch the street outside, looking for any suspicious cars or other signs that I am being watched. Luckily I can’t spot one now, but I’ll better keep checking every now and then. Better safe than sorry, right? Especially because my life literally depends on it.

I have to be careful about it, I can’t seem suspicious. I will have to make it look like something casual, like going shopping or a weekend getaway and then just… not return. I’ll have to find a way across the border, somewhere I won’t be controlled.

~~~

Okay, what do I need? Cash, definitely. I can’t pay with card, they’ll track it. Good thing you can’t trust banks anyway. I’ve got most of it here. Clothes, some food and other necessities. Luna’s crate, food for her and – thank god she’s harness trained! Then I’d need -

But what if they find me? What if I wasn’t sneaky enough? What if everything goes wrong?

The more I think about it, the more I am paralyzed with fear. Hundreds of scenarios of what could go wrong run through my head.

[drop gum]

That’s what it takes for me to snap out of it. Quickly, I pick up the can of cat food, put it into the bag to the other ones and look around. Okay, looks like I’ve packed everything in the kitchen.

~~~

At night I get everything in the car, double checking if I have all the things I need and if the car is fully charged before going to bed. Tomorrow morning at dawn, I’d be out of here.

I sleep better than I would have expected, but still wake up at four in the morning, more antsy than ever. I get ready as I normally would, just in case I’m now being watched, stuff my last remaining things into the final bag before picking up Luna from her little pillow and getting into the car.

At first I drive around a bit to make sure I’m not being followed, glaring suspiciously at every car that I can spot in the rear view mirror. When it doesn’t seem like I am, I head into the direction of the highway and, with a clear rear view mirror, in the direction of my freedom.

#original story #original writing #lisa writes

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helenazbmrskai · 2 years

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Mr Dream Writer 9

★ Pairing (Seokjin x Reader) ★ Genre (Best Friend’s Brother AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Writer AU, Slow Burn, Coming Off Age, Romance, Roommates To Lovers) ★ Summary (Jin is the sun and you’re the moon.) ★ Warnings (drinking in a bar, sad jin but nothing else for this one) ★ Word Count (638 words)

Menu: Masterlist l Be part of my permanent taglist to recieve a notification when I upload a new fic or send an ask!

📢next (coming soon)

*daily updates sorry I update when I can!

”That sucks man but at least now you’re on speaking terms again.” Seokjin sighs. He half-heartedly agrees because he did move back into your shared apartment but it’s far from how it used to be. You’re distant. No more cooking together you don’t even watch shows together on the couch after your late night writing sessions.

You said you’re working on your book and he knows it’s the truth because your blog is deleted by the time he tries to check it out.

You meant it when you said you want to forget about the last couple of weeks and while you pretend it never happened – it’s clear that it still bothers you. You’re avoiding him. Even in friend outings you’re barely speaking to him and choose the seat farthest away from him. Everyone noticed the shift in your dynamics but no one dares to comment on it. Namjoon advised him to give you time, you’re probably just feeling embarrassed and he couldn’t blame you when he reacted that way. The things he said – he wishes he could just turn back time and take a deep breath instead.

Ever since he played with the thought of you and him in the same sentence it become clearer that he could actually picture it happening. Too bad he’s weeks late and now it seems like you will never open up to him again.

”Barely. She’s still avoiding me Joon.” Namjoon finds his older friend’s pout comical.

”Clearly since you’re out drinking again. You know that if you get drunk it doesn’t mean the situation will solve itself.” Of course, he knows it. Jin annoyingly sighs again and Namjoon has to bite his lip to not tell him to stop whining and instead do something about it.

”I’m just so lost about what to do.” Jin swirls his drink looking intently at the bottom of his whiskey in case the key to his problems will be somehow buried under the fifth cup of alcohol.

”Well – did you try to apologise?” Jin snorts. Namjoon could barely hear his answer murmured under his nose. ”Of course, I apologised that was the first thing that I did.”

”Did you explain to her why you reacted that way? That you gave it a thought and you would like to try something if she’s still interested? Did you tell her that?”

It’s the following silence that has Namjoon shake his head in disbelief. For the first time since he arrived Jin looks up from his drink and looks kinda panicked.

”S- She didn’t let me explain.” Even he knows it’s a poor excuse. The truth is he chickened out. He was confused for the longest time if what he started feeling after you ignored him is genuine or if he was just missing the normality you two always had.

He’s still not a hundred percent sure but he probably never will be – all he could do is try and see what happens. That’s life. There’s no guide on how to live your life just like there’s no guide to tell him if things would work between you two. He just needs to take a leap of fate and hope for the best. It’s also easier said than done.

”You need to try until she listens. She deserves an explanation Jin. As I see it she probably avoids you so you couldn’t reject her again. She doesn’t know that you’re not trying to do that – she only goes with the assumptions your little outburst created in her head. The only way you can fix your relationship with her is, to be honest. Tell her how you feel. She’s not a mind reader you have to spell it out for her to understand.”

Jin knows Namjoon is right. The question is what he’s going to do about it.

#seokjin fanfiction #jin fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts fanfic #seokjin fanfic #seokjin fic #jin fic #jin fanfic #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #bts drabble series #bts series

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niennandil-me-writes · 1 year

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Fragments of a Cybernetic Mind: Chapter 1 - A New Case

Summary Half a year has passed since the events of Christmas of 2064. The world is slowly adjusting to sentient ROMs. But Turing is distracted from their task as ROM-kind's leader and ambassador by another obligation they carry. They want to deliver Leon Dekker’s last words to his daughter. But first, they’ll have to find her, which doesn’t prove easy. They ask their journalist friend for help, who seems less than thrilled.

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 (final) Epilogue

CN: panic attacks, trauma

There’s days where the words just flow. Mornings where I sit down with a cup of instant noodles and a Hassy, and before I even know it, it’s evening, and I’ve met my word count four times over. A couple weeks ago Turing had to physically force me to move away from my laptop to have a small snack, and as soon as I’d gulped down the sandwich, I was back at it, hammering at the keyboard which is slowly dying under my rapid typing.

There’s something magical about words. A rhythm in the sentences. Narratives behind the paragraphs. As a child, I always wanted to become an author, until I joined my school’s journalism club, and discovered my true passion: Beauty not in pretty lies, but in a well-spoken truth revealed to a large audience whose eyes I can open.

And now, after years of taking on any gig I could come by, compromising my integrity, being paid in exposure, I finally have my hands on something truly important. After the first exposé I wrote for OK Today, I got about 10 offers from big name publishers who are begging for the full story, 50 more from smaller houses. I rejected half of them, knowing that they’d be more interested in flashy theatrics or drama than the truth, and then discussed the rest of the offers with my friends, until I ended up signing a contract with one of them, sending them the newest chapters of the book as I’m writing them. They’re happy. For now.

Today the words don’t flow. Their consistency is closer to the sludge in the kitchen sink of my old flat. I write a sentence, delete it, rewrite it, delete it, write the first sentence again, and so it goes on forever and ever. I shift sentences from place to place, only to realize it destroys the entire structure of narrative, like trying to move around a load-bearing pillar while the roof crumbles.

It’s been like this for a week. Old Hassy cans on my desk, which I have moved around five times so far, hoping a change in perspective would get the creative juices flowing. Instead it just left a couple marks on the floor from the desk’s legs.

My head is in my hands. I have a migraine. I delete the last sentence. Open my mails. Look through the mesh. Back to the writing. I paste the sentence in again.

There’s a knock on the door. I turn around. “Come in.”

The door hesitantly swings open, revealing the small blue ROM I’m sharing my new living spaces with. Their round head barely reaches the doorknob, which they keep holding with their finger digits as they enter the room. “I hope I am not intruding.”

“No, it’s fine, I need a break anyways.” Not entirely true. There’s an itch in my brain at being unable to finish the section I’m working on, but it’s not like I would get it done anyways.

“How is the work coming along?” Turing asks, laying their little metal finger into a wound they no doubt don’t even realize is there.

I grit my teeth. “Good. Great, really.” I tap my leg. “Actually, you could help me find some synonyms later, I’m running out of ways to say ‘controlling the media’.”

Turing steps closer. “I thought you finished that chapter two weeks ago?”

“Just editing it a bit,” I explain. “I felt it wasn’t really cohesive so far. I want a tight narrative.”

“Well, you are the journalist, so you should know how to do that.” Turing smiles up at me, and I can’t help but join into the smile. There’s something contagious about this little robot’s joy.

Then their look becomes contemplative. Distant.

“What is it, little guy?” I ask. “You need anything?”

“Well, there is something I wanted to ask your help with...”

“Well, spit it out, what do you need my help with this time?” I tease. “Some other friend of you go missing?”

“No, it’s not quite as serious as that.” They look anywhere but at my face. “And you know I am very grateful for your help in that matter. I am sure everyone is. All of ROM-kind...”

They seem somber in a way that goes far beyond their usual formality. It’s starting to worry me. “It’s alright. Anyone would have done that...”

“But not anyone could have,” Turing insists. “Your role in this went far beyond just helping me. You are a skilled journalist. You know how to pry, how to retrieve information hidden to most casual observers. Which is why, even though I hate to burden you with this while you are still in the middle of your writing work - work that is integral to our quest to get the newly sentient ROMs accepted in society and to inform the public about the transgressions of Parallax – I have to say, you are the only person I would trust with this endeavor.”

As much as I enjoy them stroking my ego, I interrupt them: “Turing, you’re rambling again. Which endeavor?”

“It is true that I am looking for a specific person again. Someone who isn’t easy to find and who many people have no doubt done their best to make unfindable. This search, however, will not get us in any danger even close to our last adventure at Christmas. And we don’t have any actual time limit.”

I am noticing they haven’t mentioned a name yet. Though I can guess who it might be. “Who are we looking for, Turing?”

“Well...” They shuffle around. “I just want to stress again that I wouldn’t be asking this of you if I hadn’t already exhausted most of my other options. I have talked to TOMCAT and Lexi, and both – “

“Turing, I swear to god, if you don’t tell me right now, I’m assuming you want me to hunt down Fairlight.” Wouldn’t be my first guess, though.

“It’s not that.” They sigh, still a weird sight to behold from a ROM. Then they finally spit it out: “I want to find Dekker’s daughter.”

Silence falls in the room, broken only by the rumbling of my laptop’s ventilation.

“Why?” I finally ask.

“Do you remember what he said before he died?” Turing’s voice is faster now, nervous.

I force a laugh that comes out dry. “He said a lot of things. Mainly what he wants to do with my entrails.” I cross my arms. Despite the summer heat, I’ve got goosebumps.

“I mean his last words. Right before he died.”

“Turing, I don’t – “

“He said he wanted to tell his daughter he’s sorry,” Turing interrupts me. “And I feel like it is my duty to pass on those words.”

I turn towards my desk, so I don’t have to face them. I bite my tongue. Why is my heart racing? It’s been months. And he’s dead. Deader than he was back then.

“I tried finding her on the mesh,” Turing explains without noticing my state. “But of course, his wife didn’t keep the same name, so even if they are somewhere, we wouldn’t find them under his name. And even when I searched more diligently, it was no use. It’s like Lexi said, all his records about him and his past are heavily redacted and/or classified. Lexi could get me some more access under the table, so to speak, but still, nothing. I retrieved some of his hardware and with TOMCAT’s help was able to search his memory data for clues, and it was they who suggested – “

“Wait, hang on a second,” I interrupt. “You’ve looked through his memories?”

“I felt it was the best way – “

“How? You said something about hardware?”

Turing shrinks together. “Lexi was – I was able to retrieve some of his undamaged memory disks that were stored in the police precinct as evidence. Don’t worry, they don’t need them right now, and they have all the data - ”

“Where are they?”

Turing falls silent.

“Turing, are you telling me you kept his – you kept a part of Leon Dekker’s – the man who tried to murder me for his own fun – you kept this guy’s brain in our house?”

“I only have some of the data!” Turing tries to assure me. “The disks are at TOMCAT’s. They are still working their way through them, trying to extract as much as possible while circumventing the damage done to them.”

“Okay.” I breathe in. I breathe out. I still feel sick. “Okay.” I stare down at my laptop. “I’m sorry, Turing. I...” I close my eyes. I’m in the server room again. The smell of ozone. The buzz of electricity. Breathing. Breathe in. Breathe out. The taste of blood on my tongue.

I open my eyes. Stare at my laptop’s screen. The opened writing document. The empty page where one of the last chapters should be. I hold my head in my hands. Run my fingers through my hair. A bird is singing outside.

Turing is saying my name. They have been for a while, I realize. “Is everything alright?” Their voice is heavy with worry. “Should I call your therapist? A doctor? Lexi?”

“No, it’s...” It isn’t alright. “Can you make me some hot chocolate, please?”

Turing nods and is about to vanish out the door.

“And Turing!” I call after them. They stop, turn around, face screen still all worry. “I’ll help you find her.”

A grin spreads over their screen. “Thank you, it is much appreciated.”

I smile as well. Truly contagious.

#my writing #fanfic #read only memories #2064 read only memories #2064rom #alys #turing webber #leon dekker #fragments of a cybernetic mind #i have taken a break from writing about my sad murder man to write about the sad murder man who inspired him instead

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amostimprobabledream · 1 year

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This is a little personal so I’ll probably delete it later.

But I’m feeling kind of...unsettled.

I had an absolutely shitty Thursday and Friday and the reasons kind of struck pretty hard. On Thursday my manager gets in touch with me about me requesting “reasonable adjustments” for this new work schedule, because we’re going to be in the office twice a week some weeks and I fucking HATE going to the office. I can’t stress enough how it makes me very anxious and restless - my team never talk to each other, there’s lots of noise to overstimulate me and we hotdesk so I don’t even have my own place to sit. It’s basically like working in isolation for seven hours - at home I can listen to music or put on the TV, whatever, and I’m fine, but ironically at work I feel more lonely than I do when I’m by myself.

So I asked my manager to request to the head of department if I can do half a day on the two-days in the office and just finish the rest of my work at home - I only live like ten minutes away from the office so I could just walk there on my lunch break. My manager got back to me yesterday and basically told me the department head said no. For no real reason except “she wants you to go in like everyone else”, which is basically the corporate version of “because I said so.”

Let me also add - there is absolutely nothing I do at the office I can’t accomplish at home. I also don’t think the head of department knows my name or what I look like, and like I already said, nobody on my team talks to each other, so it’s not like anybody would notice I wasn’t there and went, “Oh my god! We can’t possibly do all this work without her!” (The head did say she’d allow a ‘transitional period’ for me to get used to the two-day week, but since she said that would last maybe a few weeks, that’s the same as saying no since she’s not actually compromising at all.)

So that was a whole thing, and then on Friday I had a terrible driving lesson that had me crying in a carpark. My instructor insisted I move my lesson from February 22nd to February 1st - then on Friday I wasn’t driving well, so we end up in a carpark and she proceeds to start telling me I made a shit-ton of mistakes, I’d definitely fail if I drove like that in the test, etc, etc. So I had to go home and reschedule it YET AGAIN, after she’s the one who pushed me to change it. (Also, I was really upset after this conversation, then I drove back home except I was driving even worse after having my confidence shattered and my instructor’s like, “Your driving is getting erratic so pull over and I’ll take over” - why did she make me drive home after seeing how upset I was? No idea.)

My mum calls on Friday and asks what’s wrong. I told her and she proceeded to randomly take the driving instructor’s side - she was like, “Well she’s within her rights to do that, what did you want her to do, tell you you were doing great when you weren’t?” Which obviously I didn’t - I know I was driving badly, but being told for like ten minutes I’m doing a fucking horrible job made me feel like a failure, and I can’t help but think she set me up for it when she’s the one who made me move the test in the first place.

My mum and I usually get along well so I was pretty taken aback by her attitude and we ended up having this argument - and at one point I started crying again because I was frustrated. Instead of seeing I was upset and overwhelmed, my mum just keeps arguing, tells me she doesn’t understand why I’m upset, etc.

Today I talked to her and tried to explain a bit better why I got so upset, and it’s not because I had to reschedule the test, but more like I feel like she set me up for a fail by making me move my test forward unnecessarily and that I’m going to be more stressed/uncomfortable about my driving instructor going forward, since I don’t feel like I trust her judgement as much anymore.

My mum then apologises for handling the call badly, but then she also doubles down on her stance and says, “Look I know you were stressed about Thursday, but you can’t drive badly just because you were upset things didn’t go your way at work” and then also said, “So-and-so is the head of the department, so if she doesn’t think the reasons you’ve provided are good enough to not do the same work days as everyone else, you’ve kind of just got to accept it.”

And I’m just...bewildered that my mum is being so fucking callous about how every person I feel like I can be open with about my issues have kind of fucked me over? And the weird thing is she’s usually a pretty emotionally in-tune person but for some reason she’s acting like I’m a child having a tantrum instead of...you know...having some fucking empathy? Not being a condescending asshole and taking sides with her fellow boomers over me?

I don’t know. Like I’m glad we’re not in a fight and not speaking to each other, but I’m still kind of pissed off that she completely dismissed everything I said and basically went, “Well, you’ve just got to suck up being treated unfairly because that’s how it is.”

So now I don’t know what to do. If I try to talk to her again I don’t think she’s going to act any different and probably say something like, “Well, clearly we disagree so let’s just leave it.”

But...now I think I should just stop being so open with my mum about when I’m having problems, especially with work. Because if she’s not going to bother trying to understand where I’m coming from and take anybody else’s side over mine, then why talk to her about anything at all?

#Venting #Probably will delete this

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ask-hannah-blog · 5 months

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Yo, Pretzel again! 🥨🤡

First of all, thanks a ton for the info on the estrogen! I was getting kinda scared in regards to some of my... growth. I guess that explains some things. I'm lucky you were there because with the way things were going, I think I would have stolen your right to be called "Honkers" lol

It's not too bad, at least. Always wanted a big butt and aside from the sound effects and the bumping into stuff, it's been alright so far. Well, okay, I've been kinda gassy these past few days, but I've also been eating like crap. So I'm sure the toots and burps are just passing through. At least I hope😬😵‍💫😣

Shame about the estrogen, but I get the feeling that he flu will do the transitioning for me anyhow. I guess I was just hoping my transition could still be something I took control of instead of the flu. Ah, well...

Main reason I'm sending an update is because of a definite clown life update from yesterday.

I was getting some groceries, being the anxious bundle of nerves. I usually am in public (not super clowny, I know...) and just stared down at my phone, waiting my turn with the cashier. The woman in front of me was wearing a cute pair of heels, nothing too crazy, close toed and everything. I took a closer look at them and expected my next thought to be something like: "Wow, nice shoes!"

Instead, what popped into my head was: "That's some hot toe cleavage!"

Toe cleavage?!?!?!!? What the fuck is toe cleavage?!!!!??! And why was I slobbering over seeing some stranger's toes???? As she walked in front of me I kept trying to catch a glance at the back of her heel in hopes I would get a peek at her soles when she took a step. What the fuck. I tried to focus back on my phone and noticed the camera app was open. Don't need to tell you what happened there.

I hadn't had a single sexual thought about feet my whole life. Not one. Never found feet to be a turn-on. Then again, neither did swallowing dildos like they were trick swords.

This stuff is freaking crazy! I wanted to apologize so badly, but I didn't want to freak her out, and truthfully, I didn't want her to see my huge dumb teeth...

I guess that's how it starts. First, I'm drooling over whatever toe cleavage is, and then eventually, I'm licking my own toes clean in utter ecstasy.

#Clownlife, Woop woop....

Hope you're having a better time than me, Hannah.

much love ❤️ ✌️💝👋💜

Pretzel! What are we going to do? 🥨

😩

I’m right there with you. Someone, I’m unfortunately think Daisy must have let one of my bimbo clients in on my new… sigh… fetish. She spent half the session rubbing her feet, and pink high heels complain about how “they’re all hurty I wish someone would wub them…”

I was barely able to stop myself from going “Yahooooooooo!” And diving in!

My brain is just telling me “you’re a perverted cartoon now, act like it.”

BUT as sexy as that foot clevage might be, ya gotta delete that picture. Even if we’re losing our minds we have to remember not to involve people that aren’t consenting to it. That’s what seperates us from the villians.

…

My hand just typed out “Send me the pic before you do!” Nice to know I can’t trust my hands now.

We gotta meet up girl, I NEED to smell those pretzel toes and dip them in cheese!

Nope nope, not me, not that.

What I meant to say you have my sympathy for going this alone, and I’m sorry it took the control you felt over your transition from you. I don’t know how anyone feels in control of any of this shit.

And I don’t know where this Honkers stuff is coming from. I am still flat as a board lol.

Anyway, love hearing from you. Best of luck, I’m not sure how many of these I have left in me.

#transformation #mind control #ask blog #hypnosis #clowntf #clown girl #clown #feet

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amlao · 1 year

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Day 85 of being Alone for the First Second Time in My Adult

I’ve grown so much in the past two years 🥹

This time that I’ve been single has flown by and I don’t crave affection and attention like I did before.

Whenever I’ve been single, Nick has a tendency to resurface and we talk and flirt with each other.

Last time I became single, it was because I wanted to be free to get that kind of attention.

This time, I can truly take it or leave it.

He snapped me a few weeks ago, and I was excited at the prospect of having someone to get attention from/flirt with.

But he called me drunk last night begging me to come over and asking for nudes, and I was like, ‘Nah, I have to study and I respect the boundaries Veronica set too much to send you anything.’

And I kind of just got the ick from his desperation.

And then, this morning, I looked through his and my old messages. When we talked before, I had been really funny and engaging and threw him plenty of lines about my likes and interests for him to ask about, and he just didn’t take any of them.

He’s shown me who he is, and he’s lazy. He doesn’t want to take the time to get to know me or understand me, even on a friendship level.

I think, in the past, I would try to explain these things to him or tell him I need more time and development before things start getting sexual.

But like….I’m tired of giving men the keys to manipulate me and pretend that they’re the kind of person I want.

I’m in my 30’s. If a guy doesn’t get it or if we’re not operating on the same level, I’m moving on.

I woke up this morning and half-expected him to be remorseful about his behavior, but he instead snapped me and said, ‘I only regret drinking enough last night to get hungover,’

I deleted Snapchat.

I’m done wasting my time fucking around. I’m at the finish line of nursing school and I have very limited time for personal relationships.

I want to invest it in friendships with genuine connections.

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suna-reversed · 3 years

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Talking to the moon🌙

Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

minors DNI‼️

3k+ words

(quote^^ by- Richard Siken)

warnings/tags- blood and violence. oral (f.recieving), vaginal sex, anal, dacryphilia, slight praise, slight degradation, fingering. age gap. toxic relationship. mentions of harassment. yandere themes implied. heartbreak, moving on. fluff. angst. hurt/comfort. (all characters are aged up!)

Gojo Satoru is the moon. Ever changing and radiant. Beaming with light, even when he doesn't have any of his own. And much like the moon, parts of him stay hidden in an ominous darkness as he leaves you cold and alone in the tangled mess of sheets, wondering why your lover disappears at the crack of every dawn.

You had met him a while ago when he had first come into the bakery you worked at part-time, dazzling pearls on show as he ordered every single flavour of mochi off the menu. You didn’t know where it started; how the simple exchanges turned into conversations that lasted up to hours, your manager practically having to shoo him away so that you’d stop getting distracted.

You got used to him visiting you in the day during work, sitting on the barstool near the bakery counter, talking your ear off about the most random of things while he stuffed his face with mochi. You sometimes wondered how you happened to have so much in common with a man so much more older than you.

You couldn't exactly remember how those innocent conversations turned into you being splayed across the marble kitchen countertop of your apartment at 3 am, the joyous man now turned into a ferocious beast as he devoured you whole, holding your legs apart, tongue licking in between your folds with such fervour that made it seem as if it was the last meal of his life.

In all honesty, you didn’t know a lot about him, except for the fact that he worked at a private institute and often travelled overseas. He’d be as silent as a mouse as he slipped out of your place before sunrise each time. He never told you why, and eventually you stopped asking- the warmth and comfort of his body too addictive to have to give up for the question of ‘what are we?’ being answered.

On days that you’d find yourself waking up early, you’d simply let your eyes roam over the muscles of his back, adoring the dimples at the bottom of his spine, memorising each blemish, scar and mark as if you’d never see it again. You sometimes found yourself wishing he’d take off the peculiar fabric covering his eyes- your mind could barely fathom the shade of his orbs.

You knew that he was always aware of you being awake. But he didn’t acknowledge it, whether by accident or choice, you could never tell. So every time he’d finish pulling his shirt over his head, you’d roll away, focusing your mind out the window on the half disappearing moon instead of the crushing weight on your chest.

Perhaps, this was the love they never told you about. The love that wasn’t afternoon picnics and obnoxious public displays of affection. The love that wasn’t late night grocery runs and feeding each other food at cafes.

Instead, this was the love that had you deleting messages and cleaning up the strands of ashy hair from your shower drain. The love that had you lying to your friends about the marks on your neck and pretending like he didn’t just have you pinned down beneath him the night before as you served him coffee.

Every morning that you woke up alone in bed, sore and unclothed from the events of the previous night, you found yourself thinking of ways that you’d turn him away the next time he showed up at your door. But then the bell would ring, and your feet would be carrying you to the half broken man covered in bruises and blood before you could think of it.

This time, you’re sure you tell him to go away, to stop treating you as if you were some toy, slamming the door in his crestfallen face. But then why do you find yourself clutching onto his scarlet stained jacket in the bathroom? The first aid box discarded to the side as you sob into his chest, a hand stroking your hair as he assures you he’s fine.

That night, you find him buried deep inside of you, your heavy breathing filling the silence of the air, your back to his chest. The arms around you feel unbearably tight as he pulls you even closer to him. Why is he trying to snatch all the warmth from your body?

The hot breath of his mouth is right next to your ear. He’s telling you he wants to be tender and merciful while his teeth are digging into your jugular, the hand around your throat tightening as his hips rut into you harder. He does not wipe away the tears flowing freely down your face.

The next morning, you find a burning sensation rising in your chest as you stare at the empty space next to you; his underlying scent of strawberries and citrus still lingering.

What had you been expecting? Why would this night have been different from any other?

That question is answered when you realise the unfamilair feeling of a cold metal wrapped around your ankle while climbing out of bed. Looking down, you see that it's a thin silver anklet with two charms hanging off of it.

His initials and a crescent moon.

You can’t help the smile that’s on your face for the rest of the day.

--------

You're panting, the drumming of your heartbeat echoing in your ears, vision blurring as you try to make it back home. You’re gripping onto the walls to keep yourself from falling, the pain in your body near unbearable as you somehow manage to unlock the door, not even making it past the entrance as you crumble apart right there, curling in on yourself as broken sobs leave your chest.

The sound of footsteps has you shutting your eyes, flinching from the pain and fear of knowing you can’t fight. The terror of your attacker being in your home makes your cries even louder.

Instead, you find your senses being flooded by the familiar scent of strawberries and the cologne that you bought him- warm muscular arms come to wrap around your figure, lifting you up. You’re still crying as he settles you down onto the bed, gently pulling your hands away from your face.

He lifts your shirt to reveal the expanse of wounds littered across your abdomen. An unreadable expression remains on his face as he skillfully cleans off the blood, fixing you up like you’ve done for him a dozen times. You don’t remember telling him where you were injured. Could the blood be seen through your shirt? None of it matters as he pushes you back down onto the plush mattress, your eyes fluttering close you as fall into a deep fitful slumber.

It’s a full moon tonight, the light cascading through your window providing you an odd sense of comfort. You turn over in the dark, gasping a little as your eyes lock onto a pair of strange azure ones. Your mind is still heavy from the medicines you took, perhaps that’s why you don’t react, simply staring into the unfamiliar eyes on a face that you recognised better than the back of your own hand.

His slender pale fingers are trailing over the skin of your abdomen. Shouldn't it hurt more? A hand comes up to your face, gently cradling your chin as he examines the scratch on your jaw. Your heart skips a beat as his soft lips press a chaste kiss onto your brow. His voice is low and tense, anger barely restrained as he asks,

“Who did this to you?”

You try to form a response, but all you can hear is the shallow echo of the beating of your half-dead heart. Your chest feels hollow as words finally rise to the tip of your tongue, eyes dry as you tell him all of it. How a strange force had pinned you against a wall when you were walking back home, how the man who appeared from the shadows of the dark alley didn’t even lift a finger, yet it felt like each bone in your body was being cracked apart. How you barely felt the pain of the broken bottle that impaled your flesh as you were thrown aside, the stranger parting from you with just four words,

“Consider this a warning.”

You don’t care how crazy you sound as you explain the bizarre events that occurred. You don’t care that his orbs are as blue and twice as deep as the mariana trench. You don’t care that for once, his eyes hold something other than just lust as he looks at you.

Your throat feels raw by the time you finish, and it hurts to look at his pitiful face so you roll onto your side, fixing your eyes on the shimmering celestial body outside your window. You both lay in silence for a while.

“I liked thinking of you as the moon at times.”

The calm in your voice startles Gojo, but he remains quiet, wanting you to continue. It doesn’t matter if it's gibberish, doesn't matter if it’s words of hatred, of doubt, of regret; he’ll take it as long as there’s something- as long as you’re speaking. His arms tremble around you a little as a bitter laugh escapes your chest.

“But at the end of the day,” you pause, taking a deep breath, “...all I am, is a mere star in a galaxy full of constellations.”

The raw sob that rips from your chest is a surprise to both you and Gojo.

“Tell me who cares about a star that burns out and explodes?” your voice is barely above a whisper as you turn around to face him.

For once in his life, Gojo Satoru can’t joke, fight or fuck his way out of a situation. A strange weight has been on his chest ever since he saw your eyes. The light and joy stripped out of them as he found himself staring back at his own reflection.

His eyes glance down at the dip of your collarbone, the arch of your shoulder that he wanted to reside in forever, now covered in small scars. He knows who hurt you.

He pulls you closer to him, tangling his feet with yours, the strip of metal around your ankle clinking at the movement. Perhaps it was a huge mistake to have bought you something so carelessly, knowing that the eyes of a few dozen enemies followed him wherever he went.

He finds himself at a loss for words, opting to convey his emotions through touch instead as he melds his lips with yours. You sigh into his mouth and he kisses you even deeper, almost desperately as if trying to pass over his own breaths to you- as if trying to bring you back to life. He finds the taste of salt on his tongue and the wet drops falling onto his cheeks makes his flesh burn. He doesn't know whose they are as he continues to try and cling onto the shell of what was once a whole person.

“Please” he finds himself mumbling as he pulls you even closer, heart cracking as you continue sniffing into his chest.

“It hurts- it hurts- so much” You’re sobbing now, his own body shaking in tandem with yours.

Who is he to deny you when you look up at him, the broken plea leaving your mouth,

“Make it stop please.”

---

Gojo finds the cold metal of his own initials pressing against the side of his face as he hoists your legs over his shoulder. His fingers are pressing down against your sensitive nub, spreading around your slick before he pumps two of his fingers into you. You buck your hips up, cries escaping you as his tongue licks your clit, suctioning it into his mouth as he increases the pace of his fingers.

You’re cumming undone within seconds, begging him to fill you up. He’s never so easily given in to your demands, but tonight, it’s as if he’s only there to serve your wishes. The sickening thought of getting hurt again just so that you’d get this treatment creeps up in the back of your mind.

You moan as you feel him line his thick girth with your entrance, the tip catching onto your sensitive bundle of nerves as he rubs it between your dripping heat. He leans forward, pushing your legs up and safely tucking them against your chest, before crashing his lips against yours. It’s messy and rushed; tongue against tongue, spit drooling out as he pushes himself inside of you in one long stroke. The burn of it has you groaning into his mouth, hands moving to tangle into his hair. His thrusts are deep and angled, the feeling of it settling deep in your belly.

“Fuck- you look so-fucking-pretty underneath me like this”

His words of praise are muffled against your lips, further drowned out by your moans as one of his hands moves down to play with your clit. You’re screaming his name as the coil in your stomach snaps, his own restraint breaking as he finishes, painting your walls with his seed.

It’s not the first time you find yourself screaming and moaning that night. His cock is inside of you in one way or the other through the entirety of the next few hours- whether it be deep down your throat as his hands pull your hips down to his face, moaning at the taste of himself leaking from your cunt - or stretching the walls of your puckered asshole, the lube he pumped in with his slender fingers dripping out as he presses you to the shower wall, a hand coming forward to fondle your tits as his face falls onto your shoulder, grunting into your ear while he pistons in and out of your tight hole.

You can barely move a muscle by the time you’re done, body and mind numb from both the exhaustion and overstimulation as he pulls the covers over the two of you, limbs entangled with each other’s, skin against skin, his hands rubbing circles onto your spine.

“No one’s ever going to hurt you again.”

You’re barely conscious as he whispers that, humming and burying your face deeper into his cozy heat as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You do not notice the solemn drop of moisture that escapes his eye, falling onto your cheek, a thumb brushing it away just as quickly, as if it was never there. Just as he wishes he could brush away his own existence from your life- no- just as he was going to.

“...I promise.”

---

When your eyes flutter open, they are not met with the moon.

Instead, the light of the rising sun casts a rosy hue across your room. And for once, you do not feel cold as you spread out your legs to take more of the space on the expanse of your empty bed. The sunlight does not feel like a curse anymore, even if the nostalgia of the moon’s glow stays buried somewhere deep in your heart.

But at least there’s no more crying going to bed alone each night; no more hours of scrolling through social media looking for someone who doesn’t exist; no more one night stands and low grade hookups trying to fulfil the ever-growing void in your heart.

In fact, you find yourself going out more, singing along to songs in the shower once again, even making friends with a regular trio that starts coming into your bakery every other day. They told you they’re college students too, all around your age, and you find yourself smiling a little more than necessary at one of them, even if a pair of ocean eyes floods the back of your mind each time that you do. You’re still hurting and healing, but at least you are moving forward.

“At least he kept his promise” You find yourself thinking as you climb out of bed, sighing in disappointment at the clinking of charms around your ankle.

—-

“At least I kept my promise.”

It had become Gojo’s new-found mantra. Every time he saw you drunk out of your mind at a bar, deftly bribing the bartender to replace your ordered shots with water instead. Every time he saw a random body pressed to yours, their tongue exploring your sweet mouth as you pushed them into your apartment. And especially that one time he found himself standing over the half-beaten body of the man who had tried to grope you on the bus.

“At least I kept my promise- at least she’s safe.”

He knew his actions were of a mad man. Even though he took care of the problem which had hurt you in the first place, he still found himself paranoid. Following you around every other night, making sure you were still here- still alive under the same sky as him, under the same sun and moon and stars. He told himself he was doing it for you- even if he found his heart swell every time he saw the familiar glint of the silver trinket around your ankle.

-----

“No way!” You find yourself laughing around a mouth full of mochi.

“No- I swear he likes you, he just doesn't want to admit it, you know how he-”

“What are you two talking about?”

You both immediately snap your mouths shut as he returns from the restroom, sliding into the seat on his side of the booth.

“Nothing!” you reply in unison.

“Anyways, do you want me to get you anything else? Something that this idiot wouldn't shove into my mouth?” You joke, tapping your pen against the notepad.

“Hey! I just wanted you to taste how delicious the mochi was!”

“I know- I made it!”

A loud cough breaks your banter with the light haired boy,

“I-I do actually want to ask for something”

“Of course, what can I get you? The ginger tea you like?”

“Well- what I want is-” he pauses, and you don’t miss the mischievous glint in the eyes of his friend sitting across the table.

“I’d like to take you to the festival at the park.”

You’re halfway through writing it down on the notepad before you realise what he’s asked, your head snapping up to see the slightly flushed tint on his cheeks as he glares at the howling boy across the table. Your own face heats up as he looks towards you expectantly.

“You don’t have to if you-”

“Pick me up at 4”

“Oh” butterflies race in your stomach at the smile that he gives you, “...okay, 4 it is.”

------

Weeks go by and you don’t realise the slow mending of your heart. Your broken pieces coming together each time he holds your hand, each time he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, each time he whispers words of affirmations into your ear, and each time he comforts your shaking body, apologising for kissing your brow- even if he doesn’t understand why it made you cry.

Eventually, you learn to not mind being just a mere star in the vast expanse of the cosmo.

You didn’t care because he looked at you like you held the universe in your eyes, cradling your face with such gentleness as if you were precious china. You didn’t care because when his lips came down onto yours, it felt like the collision of stars- your own little supernovae in the curve of his cupid’s bow. You didn’t care because when you woke up, you’d find him peppering kisses across the purple constellations he left the night before.

You didn’t care because you never woke up cold and alone anymore.

------

“I’ll be back in just a second.”

You find yourself saying as you move your head off his lap, waving to your other two friends, their own counterparts lounging beside them.

“Is everything okay?’

He’s always so tender- except for when he has you splayed across the bed on your stomach, hips thrusting into yours as he tells you what a good slut you are for him- just for him. Heat crawls up your face at the memory from a few nights ago. The fingers wrapping your hand snap your mind out of its perverse refuge. Looking down, you find concern-filled eyes staring back at you.

“Yeah, I just want to take a walk alone by the beach- get some air.” You reply, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

The sound of the waves lapping against the shore in the dark and the fresh sea breeze on your face is refreshing. You make a mental note to thank Nobara for dragging you onto this trip. You stop as you find a cozy spot in the sand, giving you a perfect view of the moonlit sea.

You don’t know how long you sit there, thinking of a particular set of emerald eyes and long lashes, your smile faltering as the promise ring on your finger grazes the forgotten metal on your ankle. Your face remains neutral as you unhook it, even if it feels like cutting your own hand off, but that’s all there is to it - familiarity and nostalgia. There’s no blackhole in your chest, ready to open up and swallow you whole, there are no tears shed as you bury the piece of junk into the sand, and there is no looking back as you walk away, back into the arms of your precious ‘gumi.

Gojo stands at the rooftop, one hand clutching the sand covered jewellery, the other pulling down a side of his blindfold as he watches you entangle yourself in the arms of another, laughing as he places a kiss on the top of your brow. You’re happy, that’s all that matters- still, the irony of the situation pricks at him - especially after all he did to keep you away from his world.

He had initially found himself at a loss for words when you had told him that he was the moon, and you, just a star. If you were to ask him again, Gojo would agree, but with only half of it.

He may have been the moon, but you were a galaxy full of stars and planets that harboured dreams and wishes he could never fathom. His mind kept flickering back to the constellations he littered your body with as he now watched his own disciple press kisses into the crook of your neck.

Nonetheless, he found his own lips twitching upwards- almost tragically, but the warmth in his chest was real as he saw the joy on your face. You were right; he was the moon after all. He had shone as bright as the sun itself despite not having any light of his own. Now he stood there watching the same light reflect off the dark-haired boy who held you in his arms, and suddenly, it all made sense.

Perhaps he should have found another way back then. Perhaps he shouldn’t have underestimated his ability to be able to protect you. Perhaps-

it didn’t matter now.

perhaps at the end of the day, the moon was nothing but a dreamer.

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