#i don't know how to phrase this. i don't even know what point i'm trying to make | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

In 2020, 27% of US Tumblr users had an annual household income of over $100,000.

#i don't know how to phrase this. i don't even know what point i'm trying to make

krawlernyannyan · 1 day

Text

IT'S ALL ABOUT ENA (ft. SUNDAY WAS THE BAD GUY ALL ALONG)

After the v2.2 trailer I'm really starting to think the events going on in Penacony are somehow deeply tied to Ena the Order. At first I thought all the Order motifs (i.e. the eye symbol of Order being all over) around Penacony were just cool worldbuilding details about how the Harmony must've adopted the Order's symbology on top of THEIR Path, but now...

Like the thing that's really tipping me off here is all the goddamn puppets. The final boss of which is religiously-themed.

This is an insane idea but what if everything that's been going on in Penacony has been the result of somebody trying to re-establish contact with Ena and/or the Path of Order? One of the major discoveries we made in v2.1 was that something's wrong with the Harmony, so what if the Harmony on Penacony is being corrupted in such a way that it aligns more with the Order? It's not even hard to see how.

The Harmony should be about cooperation, resolving differences, mutual understanding, but on Penacony that's not remotely the case. The Family's main tactic to keep the peace has been robbing people of their memories and emotions - keeping them in control not necessarily so people can heal, but to keep them in line and serve their designated functions. The Family on Penacony has already been debasing its population into obedient puppets, doing everything possible to maintain the facade they've created.

There's also the fact that Penacony used to be a prison, a setting that embodies the kind of control and forcible penance that Order represents. Xipe's attention was drawn to it because its prisoners began uniting together in the dreamscape but what happens if Penacony reverts back to a prison?

There's a lot of things that click neatly into place with one extra assumption, that the person ultimately behind this distortion is the most Order-adjacent character in the Penacony cast: Sunday.

He's the most outwardly religious person on Penacony in terms of his faith and he's straight-up covered in the Order's eye symbol, even having them on his halo, plus his major character trait is being a control freak. Circumstantially, he fits.

At this point it's been hammered in that there's a traitor in The Family - as the person in charge of the Family (only answering to the unseen Dreammaster) he's literally pulling the strings on Penacony and in the best position to manipulate its environment, so him being the literal puppetmaster behind everything would be a neat turn of phrase.

While he's outwardly devout to Xipe it could be the case that his appeals are specifically to those aspects of Xipe that THEY absorbed from Ena.

Sunday's ultimate goal is to create a truly perfect paradise in Penacony, but his idea of that could be reliant on the complete control of its population to stop all conflict, hence why he's going to such lengths to get Ena's influence.

It's been stated that a lot of the Dreamscape exists thanks to blessings from Xipe the Harmony, leading to its relative safety, but if the Harmony starts getting corrupted and weakened, then that would weaken those effects and that could be why the deeper dreamscape is starting to flood into Penacony. (This would be an unintentional side-effect of trying to bring about Order, or at least one Sunday thinks the influence of the Order could resolve in its own way.)

Sunday's been putting more resources into finding the serial killer than he is into the Charmony Festival, upsetting other Family members. If he's the one behind everything, he should already have a plan in mind for the Charmony Festival and so it's not a concern to him but the serial murders act as a chaotic element upsetting his attempted Order so stopping them and restoring Order is his higher priority.

On the subject of the serial murders: one detail we got in v2.1 is that the victims seem to be entirely random with no correlations or similarities between them. It could be that we just don't know the underlying reason but what if it is random? Intentionally random because doing it like that means there's no order to them. Something chaotic to disrupt the mastermind's plans to re-align Penacony into the Order. If they're Enigmata-themed like Gallagher, the random killings serve the double-purpose of obfuscating their true intent by making people try to find reason where there isn't any.

(I want to emphasize here that Sunday wasn't behind Robin's murder. This idea only works if he and the killer are on opposing sides, plus when he confronts Gallagher about her death I believe he's genuinely upset about it. Her investigation into the Harmony on Penacony is probably why she was targeted but I still believe Sunday would've tried other ways of getting her onto his side if she found out.)

Now, Robin did presume he was innocent, but we can excuse that on the basis that it's unlikely she would assume her own brother had ulterior motives, and his "death" at the end of v2.1 could simply be a narrative red herring to make us think he's only a victim in all this.

The last point I want to make here: the main event of the Charmony Festival is supposed to be Xipe's incarnation descending (in this case Dominicus, who was referenced in v2.1). If someone is actively trying to tilt Penacony away from Harmony and towards Order, then by the time the Charmony Festival actually arrives it might be not be Xipe's incarnation we see descend, but instead an incarnation of Ena. Hell, we might have actually seen that exact situation happening in one of The Great Septimus' attacks:

#EZ: HSR #HSR #Honkai Star Rail #HSR Ena #HSR Sunday #HSR Specposting #fun fact: did you know septimus' third phase renames itself to “Embryo of Philosophy”?#just translate the name on it in the livestream #smth smth trying to rebirth Ena

21 notes · View notes

batmanisagatewaydrug · 2 days

Note

hi! I've been reading through your blog and you seem to give decent advice, so I figured I'd try my luck at something that's been annoying me recently.

So to start, I'm 17ftm (no testosterone), I have had many mental health struggles on the past 5 years and my parents don't really trust me or take me seriously. And I have never had sex with a penis haver so no possibility of pregnancy at any point.

Okay so my problem is that I never get consistent periods and almost always skip more than a month in between. They actually started pretty consistent when I was 13 but became extremely irregular after I gained a lot of unexpected weight (I was on a high dose of antipsycotics which I believe caused this). I skipped 6 months when I was 14. Since my parents don't take me seriously, they kind of softly assume I'm exaggerating or just not counting the days right ever time I bring it up and it made me so frustrated that last year I finally got a period tracker and committed to filling it out daily. I finally decided to go back and check how long it's been because I felt like it had been forever since I actually bled and uh. Guess what I was right 😬

Since the new year, I logged myself as "spotting" on February 7th and January 22. I marked myself down as "light bleeding" on the 18th. Every other day this year there has been no bleeding. Is this abnormal??? My mom keeps saying things like "I skip months all the time" but it's just really unsettling me I feel like something's wrong. I've also had period-like cramps a few times since the year began and at one point they got really bad, like a 7/10 but again I haven't bled even a little bit except those three days I just want to know I'm not being unreasonable.

I do plan to talk to my doctor, my dad set an appointment for next week (I didn't tell him what it was for & he didn't ask which was nice) but while my GP is usually pretty good I'm worried she'll dismiss me like my mom always does & I'm worried I'll phrase something wrong or not describe things correctly. (I have the kind of autism that gives me psychic damage when people don't understand me hence the multiple paragraphs to explain a fairly simple issue... Sorry about that btw)

Thanks for your time and I hope I wasn't too annoying🪻

hi anon,

irregular periods are pretty typical when you first begin menstruating, but the fact that they haven't leveled out by now could definitely be indicative of some kind of complication in your reproductive system that's definitely best to know about sooner rather than later. I'm sorry your parents have been dismissive of you, but if your GP is generally reasonable I'm sure she'll understand why you're concerned; missing your period for months at a time definitely falls into what's considered irregular and warrants further investigation, and it sounds like you've been documenting your experiences enough to back up that that's the case.

I hope everything goes well and you can find some answers <3

#sex edventures 2024

23 notes · View notes

tearlessrain · 1 month

Note

please help me- i used to be pretty smart but i’m having so much trouble grasping the concept of diegetic vs non-diegetic bdsm!

gfkjldghfd okay first of all I'm sorry for the confusion, if you're not finding anything on the phrase it's because I made it up and absolutely nobody but me ever uses it, but I haven't found a better way to express what I'm trying to say so I keep using it. but now you've given me an excuse to ramble on about some shit that is only relevant to me and my deeply inefficient way of talking and by god I'm going to take it.

SO. the way diegetic and non-diegetic are normally used is to talk about music and sound design in movies/tv shows. in case you aren't familiar with that concept, here's a rundown:

diegetic sound is sound that happens within the world of the movie/show and can be acknowledged by the characters, like a song playing on the stereo during a driving scene, or sung on stage in Phantom of the Opera. it's also most other sounds that happen in a movie, like the sounds of traffic in a city scene, or a thunderclap, or a marching band passing by. or one of the three stock horse sounds they use in every movie with a horse in it even though horses don't really vocalize much in real life, but that's beside the point, the horse is supposed to be actually making that noise within the movie's world and the characters can hear it whinnying.

non-diegetic sound is any sound that doesn't exist in the world of the movie/show and can't be perceived by the characters. this includes things like laugh tracks and most soundtrack music. when Duel of Fates plays in Star Wars during the lightsaber fight for dramatic effect, that's non-diegetic. it exists to the audience, but the characters don't know their fight is being backed by sick ass music and, sadly, can't hear it.

the lines can get blurry between the two, you've probably seen the film trope where the clearly non-diegetic music in the title sequence fades out to the same music, now diegetic and playing from the character's car stereo. and then there are things like Phantom of the Opera as mentioned above, where the soundtrack is also part of the plot, but Phantom of the Opera does also have segments of non-diegetic music: the Phantom probably does not have an entire orchestra and some guy with an electric guitar hiding down in his sewer just waiting for someone to break into song, but both of those show up in the songs they sing down there.

now, on to how I apply this to bdsm in fiction.

if I'm referring to diegetic bdsm what I mean is that the bdsm is acknowledged for what it is in-world. the characters themselves are roleplaying whatever scenarios their scenes involve and are operating with knowledge of real life rules/safety practices. if there's cnc depicted, it will be apparent at some point, usually right away, that both characters actually are fully consenting and it's all just a planned scene, and you'll often see on-screen negotiation and aftercare, and elements of the story may involve the kink community wherever the characters are. Love and Leashes is a great example of this, 50 Shades and Bonding are terrible examples of this, but they all feature characters that know they're doing bdsm and are intentional about it.

if I'm talking about non-diegetic bdsm, I'm referring to a story that portrays certain kinks without the direct acknowledgement that the characters are doing bdsm. this would be something like Captive Prince, or Phantom of the Opera again, or the vast majority of bodice ripper type stories where an innocent woman is kidnapped by a pirate king or something and totally doesn't want to be ravished but then it turns out he's so cool and sexy and good at ravishing that she decides she's into it and becomes his pirate consort or whatever it is that happens at the end of those books. the characters don't know they're playing out a cnc or D/s fantasy, and in-universe it's often straight up noncon or dubcon rather than cnc at all. the thing about entirely non-diegetic bdsm is that it's almost always Problematic™ in some way if you're not willing to meet the story where it's at, but as long as you're not judging it by the standards of diegetic bdsm, it's just providing the reader the same thing that a partner in a scene would: the illusion of whatever risk or taboo floats your boat, sometimes to extremes that can't be replicated in real life due to safety, practicality, physics, the law, vampires not being real, etc. it's consensual by default because it's already pretend; the characters are vehicles for the story and not actually people who can be hurt, and the reader chose to pick up the book and is aware that nothing in it is real, so it's all good.

this difference is where people tend to get hung up in the discourse, from what I've observed. which is why I started using this phrasing, because I think it's very crucial to be able to differentiate which one you're talking about if you try to have a conversation with someone about the portrayal of bdsm in media. it would also, frankly, be useful for tagging, because sometimes when you're in the mood for non-diegetic bodice ripper shit you'd call the police over in real life, it can get really annoying to read paragraphs of negotiation and check-ins that break the illusion of the scene and so on, and the opposite can be jarring too.

it's very possible to blur these together the same way Phantom of the Opera blurs its diegetic and non-diegetic music as well. this leaves you even more open to being misunderstood by people reading in bad faith, but it can also be really fun to play with. @not-poignant writes fantastic fanfic, novels, and original serials on ao3 that pull this off really well, if you're okay with some dark shit in your fiction I would highly recommend their work. some of it does get really fucking dark in places though, just like. be advised. read the tags and all that.

but yeah, spontaneous writer plug aside, that's what I mean.

#I found their original stuff while I was researching various waterhorses and their folklore for no reason #because one of the characters in their original work happens to be an each uisge #and then it turned out it ALSO included a lot of figures from welsh folklore in general #so yknow if you happen to have my incredibly specific hyperfixations you'll love it but even if you don't it's great #I didn't mean to bring up phantom of the opera so much it just happens to be very relevant to a lot of my talking points #I haven't actually seen it in years

16K notes · View notes

vadlings · 4 months

Text

Represention of Autistic Frustration in Laios Dungeon Meshi

Like many other autistic people, I related strongly to Laios Touden while reading Dungeon Meshi. This post isn't going to spend time disputing whether he displays autistic traits or not—while I could do that, I want to focus on why specifically his portrayal struck a chord with me in a way the writing of most other autistic-coded characters has not.

Disclaimer: as the above suggests, this post is strongly informed by my own experiences as an autistic person, as well as the experiences of my neurodivergent friends with whom I have spoken about this subject. I want to clarify that in no way am I asserting my personal experience to be some Universal Autistic Experience. This post is about why Laios' character feels distinct and significant to me in regard to autistic representation, and while I'm at it, I do feel that I have interesting things to say about autistic representation in media generally. This also got a bit long, so I'm sticking it under a read more. Spoilers for up to the end of chapter 88 below.

The thing that stands out most to me in regard to Laios' characterisation is the open anger he displays when someone points out his inability to read other people. This comes up prominently in his interactions with "Shuro" (Toshiro Nakamoto):

The frustration pictured above (Laios continuing to physically tussle with Toshiro, using crude language toward him) becomes even more notable when you remember that this is Laios, who, outside of these interactions, is not easily fazed and often exists as a lighthearted contrast to the rest of the cast. Then we get to Laios' nightmare.

In Falin's words: "Nightmares love emotional wounds. Wounds you hold in your heart. Things that give you stress, or things that were traumatic for you. They aggravate memories like that and cause the dreamer to have terrible dreams." (chapter 42, page 10.) (damn. i'm properly citing for this post and everything.)

Thus, Laios' nightmare establishes an important fact: even if he is unable to recognise social blunders while he's making them, he's at least subconsciously aware that other people operate on a different wavelength to him, and that he's an outsider in many of his social circles (both past and present). His dream-father's disparaging words stress the impact this has had upon his ability to live up to the expectations set out for him, and we also get a panel of kids who smirk at him (presumably former bullies to some degree). Toshiro's appearance only hammers home how much Laios is still both humiliated and angered by his misunderstanding of their relationship.

I've thought a lot about anger as concomitant to the autistic experience. When autistic representation portrays ostracization, it's generally from an angle of the autistic character being upset at how conforming to neurotypical norms doesn't come easily to them; as a result, they express a desire to 'get better' at meeting neurotypical standards, a desire to become more 'normal' (whether the writing implies this is a good thing or not). In contrast, not once does Laios go, "I need to perform better in my social interactions, and try to care less about monsters, because that's what other people find weird." His frustration is directed outward rather than inward, and as a result, it's the people around him who are framed as nonsensical.

The Winged Lion starts delineating Laios' anger, and Laios' reaction is to think to himself, "It can sense all my thoughts, huh?" (chapter 88, page 16.) This is the scene that really resonated with me. I'm not saying I have never felt the desire to conform to neurotypical norms that is borne from insecurity, but primarily, I know that I don't want to work toward becoming 'normal'—I don't want to change myself for people who follow rules I find nonsensical. It's the difference between, "Oh god, why can't I get it," and, "WHY CAN'T YOU GET IT?" (phrasing here courtesy of my friend Miles @dogwoodbite). And for me personally, Dungeon Meshi is the first time I've seen this frustration and the resultant voluntary isolation from other people portrayed in media so candidly. Laios' anger is not downplayed or written to be easily palatable, either.

The culmination of Laios' frustrations in this scene wherein we learn that Laios has fantasised about "a pack of monsters attacking a village" drives home just how alienated he really feels. I need not go into his wish to become a monster himself, redolent of how many autistic people identify/have identified with non-humans to some degree as a result of a percieved disconnect from society (when I was younger, I wanted to be a robot. I still kind of do.)

Obviously, wishing death upon other people is a weighty thing, but the unfiltered nature of this page is what deeply resonated with me. The Winged Lion is laying Laios' deepest and most transgressive desires bare, and they are desires that are a product of lifelong ostracization by others (whether intentional or unintentional). This is the brand of anger I'm familiar with, and that my neurodivergent friends express being familiar with, but that I haven't seen portrayed in writing so explicitly before—in fact, it surprised me because most well-meaning autistic representation I've experienced veers toward infantilisation in trying make the autistic character's struggles easy for neurotypicals to sympathise with.

Let's also not neglect the symbolism inherent to Laios' daydream. "A pack of monsters attacking a village". Functionally, monsters are Laios' special interest—he percieves everything first and foremost through his passion for monsters. His daydream of monsters attacking—killing—humans, is fundamentally a daydream of the world he understands (monsters) overthrowing the world that is so illogical to him, that has repeatedly shunned him (other people). I joked to my friends that it's an autistic power fantasy, and it actually sort of is. And in it, his identity is aligned with that of the monsters, while his anger manifests in a palpable dissociation from the rest of humanity. This is one manga page. It's brief. It's also very, very raw to me. I think about it often.

To conclude, I love Laios Dungeon Meshi. This portrayal of open frustration in an autistic character meant a lot to me, and I hope I've sufficiently outlined why. Also, feel free to recommend media with autistic representation in the notes if you've read this far—I would really like to see if there is more of this nature. Thank you for reading. I'm very tired and should probably sleep now.

#dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #laios touden #shuro #toshiro nakamoto #the winged lion #autistic #autism #clay writes #i GUESS #this was so spur of the moment. im so busy right now i dont have time to be analysing laios touden #i wuont angry autistic rep..

8K notes · View notes

mayfieldss · 8 months

Text

Girl dinner - Carmen Berzatto

Content Warnings: THIS IS MY MEAL. I CALL IT GIRL DINNER ✨️GIRLLLL DINNNER✨️

Inspired by this post I saw by @thebearer (i hope you don't mind me adding to the concept)

"What the fuck is girl dinner?" Carmy sounds more than frustrated, and confused as he stares down at you, sat comfortably on the couch with your choice of meal. It's an apalling assortment of things from his point of view, though your wide smile shows you think the opposite.

"This is girl dinner." You wave down at your food before stabbing a fork into the meal, eyes drifting to the tv.

"No, no, no, I can't let you eat that." Carmy seems a little distraught as you make eye contact with him, putting more of the dish you prepared into your mouth, chewing slowly as though to make the point 'but I'm eating it anyway.'

"Fuck, please stop with the girl dinner." You love how he's adopted the phrase himself, reaching down to pull the plate away from you, though you dodge him well.

"You eat peanut butter and Jelly for dinner almost five nights a week, so don't you dare scold me for this!" You're defensive as you stand with your plate, still spooning the disaster into your mouth. It doesn't taste as good as anything Carmy would make for you, but you're stubborn.

"At least that has substance, just let me make you something—Jesus stop eating it! There's no way that's nutritious at all!"

"Fuck nutrition!" You shout back, sounding almost like a child in your defiance.

"Fuck girl dinner!" Carmy counters expertly, though there's a hint of a laugh within his words. In the phrase coming from both his lips and your own, he finds a sort of hilarity, though the point he's trying to make is a genuine one.

"But I love girl dinner." You raise your brows as if that's the perfect blow, the one that will win you the fight, despite the statements lack of foundation.

"Well, I love you, and I can't let you eat cheese string and oreos—is that a slice of fucking orange?"

"What could you make that's better than this?" It's a stupid question, and one you know that answer to as you gesture down at the plate with one hand.

"Anything, fucking anything!" Carmy runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends. "What d'you want, I'll make you something, anything, just stop with girl dinner."

You take the slice of orange and bite into it, eyes locked on Carmen's. "The point of tonight's girl dinner is that I don't want to cook, and I also don't want you to cook."

"That's my fucking job."

"Exactly, you spend all day cooking, i don't want you to have to come home and cook for me too." Your voice is softer now, sweet and soothing, Carmy letting out a sigh at the sound of it.

He moves forward, taking the plate from you and placing it on the stool beside the couch. "Look, I don't mind. I don't mind making you something every once'n a while. You deal with all my shit all the fucking time, it's the least I can do." He takes your hands in his own, pressing his forehead to yours. "Just let me make you something."

"You're ruining the point of girl dinner." You mumble, pressing a short kiss to his lips as Carmy's hands run soothingly up and down your arms.

"Don't care." His mutters back, taking your hand and leading you to the kitchen, your other meal long abandoned on the stool to be disposed of later.

Days pass, Carmy is still thinking about it, and when he gets to work, he has to say something to the others. "Caught my girlfriend eating fucking orange slices and oreos for dinner the other night." He mutters whilst searing a steak in prep for a menu change. He glimpes Sydney nodding, and as Fak moves behind him, the man decides to speak.

"Girl dinner, good for her."

Carmy turns so fast to face the man that he almost sets his shirt alight on the element, thinking over the utter complexities of the term. "But what the fuck is girl dinner? How do you even know about–never mind."

"You know," Fak begins as Carmy runs a hand over his face in frustration, "this is my meal, I call this girl dinner" He's reciting something though Carmen has no clue where this is going, and when Fak starts singing it all seems to get worse.

He's repeating the phrase, and yet it still means nothing to Carmy as he moves away, leaving Fak to harmonize with Sydney as he picks up the phone.

Pressing call on your contact is like muscle memory, and the sound of the first few rings leaves him impatient, though you pick up eventually.

"Hey," he mutters into the phone, listening to your voice as you parrot the word back.

"Hey, what's up?" You sound preoccupied, and Carmy swears he can hear the closing of a cupboard door, the rustling of a packet of chips.

"Uh, nothing, I just... I wanted to call and ask if you're all good for dinner tonight." He's closed his eyes, leaning against the door of his office as the quiet settles over him. "D'you need anything?"

You answer almost too fast, suspicion creeping through the line with its grasp on your voice. "No, no, I'm good. Dinner's all good."

Carmy catches the tone, a small amused smile wriggling upon his lips. "Cool, so uh, what're you having?" He scared of the answer, if you decide to be honest—which you don't.

"I was thinking tacos, maybe, I haven't decided."

"Nice," Carmy chuckles, "so none of that girl dinner shit? No orange slices and string cheese?" Carmy can almost picture it as the words come to mind, the plate of horrors he'd witnessed not a week before. There's silence over the phone, and Carmy can hear you heave a sigh, loud and final, as you come to terms with your lie. You don't say anything, though, so Carmy fills the space.

"I'm coming home t'night," he whispers into the receiver, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder as he adjusts his apron. "Me, you and the tacos, okay?"

His voice is so gentle, the affection dripping from the words like honey, and he's truly never spoken to someone with as much care. It scares him sometimes, just how much he loves you.

"Carmy, I make the worst fucking tacos." Your smile is hidden within the sentence, and it reaches Carmy like a wave washing the sand, though you're so far from him right now.

"Yeah, I uh, I know. That's why I'm cooking." The kitchen is starting to get loud outside Carmy's office door, and he knows he has to get out there soon to save whatever is left of the peace.

"You don't have to do that, Carm," you exhale, and he can almost picture you, leaning against the kitchen bench, strands of hair loose that, if he was with you, he would be dying to push back into place.

"I want to." He means it, the words he says. "You're important to me, and I want you to know that. I do."

Carmy doesn't know it, but you're grinning on the other end of the line, blood rushing to your cheeks at the thought of his affection. His love.

"Okay." You whisper, "you're important to me too, Carm."

That means everything to Carmy, and he's so desperate to hold onto this, so desperate to not mess this all up. Not after Claire.

"I love you." It's unusual for him to say it first, but he does this time, and his voice soothes any stress you might have. He can hear you smile when you speak again and knows he'll be thinking about the sound of your words for the rest of the day.

"Love you too, bear, see you tonight."

CARMEN BERZATTO TAGLIST: @thrutheburnout @norriebunny @yeschefthankyouchef

THE BEAR TAGLIST: @live-love-be-unique

5K notes · View notes

fox-guardian · 8 months

Text

hey guys did you know that um. did you know. first of all did you know i'm losing my mind, secondly, do y'all remember in tma how when someone reads a written statement, they don't really Stop unless they're interrupted? and they read the whole thing easy cheesy, no issues with reading whatever words are there? like. jon literally could read french for a whole statement and was Fine. granted, that's Jon, but like nobody else struggled with pronunciations and whatnot (that i can recall)

presumably, this is an eye thing. either as employees of the institute, or because everyone there is just also eye-aligned in some degree (melanie had the ghost hunting show, the eye is fond of martin, etc)

and then there's tim in season 3 ep 86

[Sigh] Statement of… uh, Benjamin Hatendi… Hateendi? Regarding a… [papers rustling] a blanket. Dead friend. Monster. Regarding his unavoidable and gruesome end. How he tried to hide. He couldn’t. Statement is from… 1983, March 2nd. And I guess… [long sigh] I guess I’m doing this one. Tim Stoker. Archival assistant… Archival prisoner at the Magnus Institute.

correct me if im wrong but i don't recall anyone struggling with pronunciations before this bit. but that's not even the biggest thing here, that's just a lil Taste, a lil Flavor.

note the phrasing there. "Regarding his unavoidable and gruesome end." why would he say this when the written text on the statement says this:

Uh, right. Benjamin Hatendi’s account of… [rustling pages] oh for… a, a strange encounter. Er, statement date, March 2nd, 1983. Melanie King recording. Apparently.

"a strange encounter". that's it. nothing about an unavoidable death, just a "strange encounter". Tim Why Did You Say That.

why would our dear timothy bimothy, who is being pushed to the brink, who is becoming rapidly more depressed and losing hope, say this?

this isn't the only time he's said some weirdly grim shit tho (ep 104)

There was never really any hope for me, though, was there? This was how it was always going to go.

and then there's this bit from elias apparently having Looked into tim (also 104)

TIM All right, hit me with your X-ray eyes then, boss. What do you see? ELIAS Disruption. An unpredictable, angry man with nothing left but the desire to feel in some way revenged. TIM [Sarcastic] Ooh, terrifying! Surely only magic could have let you see so deep inside my very soul.

"nothing left" but the desire to feel revenged. and tim doesn't dispute this, because it's true.

when he first joined the institute he did so in order to look for answers about danny, but then he stopped seriously looking. and now that the circus is back, this is all the drive he has left. not looking for answers, just wanting revenge. closure. an end, if you will.

this is Literally It For Him. a couple lines later he suggests elias kill him, he's At The Breaking Point.

he is so tired, he's lost all hope, and he's saying all this grim shit about "unavoidable death" and "this is how it was always going to go" like hmmmm sounds familiar doesn't it. DOESN'T IT (<- is going insane)

(ep 11) [....] despite the rapid response of the paramedics and how much of his medical history I had immediately to hand, there was nothing I could do to save him. (ep 11) I have no responsibility to try and prevent whatever fate is coming for you. Based on my previous experience, such a thing is likely impossible anyway,[....] (ep 121) There. That was it. That was our fate; where we would always be.

hmmmm sounds a bit like oliver huh? everyone's favorite ex-accountant avatar of the end?? right??

but then there's this last bit i have from ep 86.

why did he stop reading the statement

Statement. “My parents never let me have a nightlight. I was always afraid, but they were ju–” Ugh, this is stupid.

why did he do that. again, correct me if im wrong but when else has someone just Stopped Reading like that without someone or something else interrupting them? why could tim just stop himself?

my theory is this: at this point, tim is completely gone from being aligned with the eye. he no longer seeks to know what happened to danny, he just wants closure. he doesn't wanna do any statement work, and he keeps mentioning these tidbits about hopelessness and the inevitability of terrible events, specifically death.

the eye isn't compelling him to read the statements like it does the others, because it doesn't have as strong a hold anymore. the grip is slipping from him. and by the time the unknowing rolls around, maybe it's lost him for good. maybe he finally fell into a different power he never meant to serve, and yet, he does.

and maybe. just maybe. because i'm so not in denial. but MAYBE. he did die in the unknowing. but maybe he got better.

basically end!tim truthers rise up, this is how end!tim kayaking with his bf oliver banks can still win, etc etc I'm Going Feral <3

#ramblings with major #the magnus archives #tma #tim stoker #oliver banks #timoliver #lil bit uwu #tim stoker tuesday #end!tim #cursing #tma angst #ig #i hope this is coherent and makes sense im losing my MIIIIND im losing my Mind

3K notes · View notes

janmisali · 1 year

Note

what do you think of tone indicators in general?

unfortunately my thoughts on tone indicators are somewhat nuanced. fortunately, this is tumblr not twitter, so I can just write out my full thoughts in one post and be as verbose about it as feels necessary.

speaking as an autistic person (and I know there are other autistic people who don't hold this same view, this is just my perspective), I think as an accessibility tool, the extended set tone indicators in current popular use is fundamentally misguided.

the oldest ones, /s for sarcasm and /j for jokes, make sense. their notation isn't the most intuitive thing ("does /s mean sarcastic or serious?") but it's not too difficult to explain what they mean. I've had to spend my whole life learning by brute force what different tones of voice mean and what they change about how I'm supposed to interpret something, so I already know what "read this in a sarcastic voice" and "read this as a joke" are supposed to mean. my existing skills can be translated into the new form without too much effort.

the same thing applies to emoji and emoticons. I know what facial expressions mean, because I had to learn what they mean. figuring out if :) is sincere or not from context is a skill I've already needed to develop. it doesn't come naturally for me, but it's something I already at least somewhat know how to do.

most of the tone indicators in current use uh. don't work like this.

tone indicators like /ref or /nbh don't correspond to specific tones of voice. I don't have a "I'm making a reference" voice or a "I'm not talking about a person who's here" voice that I can picture the sentence being read in. these do not indicate tones, they're purely disambiguators. they clarify what something means without necessarily changing how it would be read out loud.

and on paper, that's fine, right? like, it's theoretically a good thing to take an otherwise ambiguous statement and add something to it that clarifies what you meant by it. the problem is that these non-tone tone indicators are not even remotely self-explanatory. it's up to me, the person who is being clarified to, to know what all these acronyms are supposed to mean, and how they change the way I'm supposed to interpret what something means.

it's, quite literally, a newly-invented second set of social cues that I'm expected to learn separately from the set that I've already spent my whole life figuring out, and it works completely differently.

sure, these rules are (in principle) less arbitrary than the rules of facial expressions and tones of voice and how long you're supposed to wait before it's your turn to speak, but they're also fully artificial and recently invented, which means they're currently in a constant state of flux. tone indicators go in and out of fashion all the time, and the "comprehensive lists" are never helpful.

in theory, I appreciate the idea of people going out of their way to clarify what they mean by potentially ambiguous things they post online. if it worked, that would be a really nice thing to do.

however, sometimes I imagine what the internet would be like without them. what if instead of using /s, the expectation was that if you're sarcastic online there's no guarantee that strangers reading your post will know what you meant? what if instead of inventing more and more acronyms to cover every possible potentially confusing situation, we just... expected one another to speak less ambiguously in the first place?

so, I on paper like the idea of tone indicators. I think it's good that some people are trying to be considerate by being extra clear about what they mean by things. but if tone indicators didn't exist, and people who wanted to be considerate in this way instead just made a point of phrasing things more clearly to begin with, I think that would be vastly preferable to even the most well-implemented tone indicator system.

also /pos sucks because there's something deeply and profoundly wrong for an abbreviation that means "I don't mean this as an insult, don't worry" to be spelled the same way as an acronym that's an insult

#tone indicators #jan misali

7K notes · View notes

tgcg · 5 months

Text

argument

its a big one

TG: alright this is probably a bust

TG: more i think about it how the fuck do you even make a marinara

TG: can i even alchemise cheese or do i gotta like alchemise the milk and curdle it myself

TG: how do you even curdle

====================

TG: make a goddamn

TG: curgler

TG: whatever

TG: internet archive gonna pull through

====================

CG: ALRIGHT DAVE

TG: shit

====================

CG: YOU BETTER BACK THE FUCK OFF. I DON'T KNOW WHERE IN BULGEMUNCHING VIRULENT FUCK YOU GET THE IDEA YOU HAVE ANY RIGHT TO TELL ME WHAT I SHOULD THINK ABOUT MY OWN GODDAMN PLANET. SORRY TO HAVE TO DEAL A BLOW TO YOUR IMPOSSIBLY INFLATED FUCKING EGO, BUT HAVE YOU EVER CONSIDERED THAT YOUR SIDE-EYE SLACKJAW HOPELESS DEADPAN BULLSHIT BEHAVIOUR IS ACTUALLY INCREDIBLY FUCKING CONTEMPTIBLE AND DOESN'T PUT YOU ABOVE OTHER PEOPLE? HAVE YOU CONSIDERED THAT?

CG: OR DID YOU JUST ASSUME FROM THE MOMENT YOU FOUND OUT I'M A REVOLTING FUCKING MUTANT LOWBLOOD FREAK THAT I'M SUDDENLY NOT ALLOWED TO LIKE THE IDEA OF MY LIFE MEANING SOMETHING AT SOME POINT?

TG: okay you are wildly misquoting me where the fuck did that come from

TG: also you scared the hell out of me

TG: im just trying to science some pizza here

====================

CG: OKAY THEN, DAVE! EXPLAIN TO ME AS WELL AS YOUR AMBLING ONE-NOTE SMOOTH EXCUSE FOR A 'THOUGHT'SPONGE CAN

CG: IN SOMEWHAT COHERENT TERMS, ALTHOUGH I KNOW THAT'S A TALL ORDER:

CG: HOW YOU SAYING MY ADOLESCENT DREAMS OF BECOMING A THRESHECUTIONER ARE "FUCKED UP AND IRONIC IN A NASTY ASS WAY" DOESN'T QUALIFY AS UNDERHANDEDLY KICKING ME IN THE MANDIBLE PRONGS!

CG: YOUR AUDIENCE AWAITS YOU WITH BATED BREATH! TAKE IT AWAY, M.C. BRAIN HEMORRHAGE.

====================

TG: okay i dont

TG: know how you got a hold of that phrasing because i said that shit in confidence

TG: get out of my business bro

CG: NEWSFLASH, ASSHOLE: THIS METEOR IS A PHYSICAL, LITERAL LOCATION WE'RE BOTH IN. IT'S NOT A FUCKING PRIVATE CHATROOM. THIS MIGHT BLOW YOUR PITIFUL MIND BUT PEOPLE CAN ACTUALLY HEAR OTHER PEOPLE TALK WHEN THEY HAVE TO SHARE A SPACE! BRO!

TG: ugh

====================

CG: AND IT'S VERY INTERESTING YOU ACCUSE ME OF MISQUOTING YOU, AND THEN SUDDENLY TURN AND SPOUT FROM THAT SHITTY DRONING GROANSHAFT OF YOURS THAT I'M INVADING YOUR PRIVACY WHEN I DIRECTLY QUOTE YOUR SMARMY LITTLE SHAMEGLOBES!

CG: WOW! TURNS OUT KARKAT IS ACTUALLY BEING GENUINELY FUCKING UPSET ABOUT SOMETHING — WHO KNEW, RIGHT? WHO WOULD'VE GUESSED THAT I ACTUALLY HAVE GENUINE COMPLAINTS TO LEVEL AGAINST THE PEOPLE WHO GO SPOUTING HOOFBEASTSHIT ABOUT ME BEHIND MY BACK TO THEIR ECTOSIBLINGS?

TG: no dude can you shut up a second

CG: I MOST CERTAINLY FUCKING WILL, THANKS FOR THE OFFER! I'M NEVER TELLING YOU A GODDAMN THING AGAIN, SO I HOPE YOU MANAGE TO GAIN SOME WRINKLES TO THAT VESTIGIAL FLAWLESS ORB FLOATING AROUND IN YOUR CAVERNOUS NUGBONE FROM ALL THIS. I HOPE IT WAS WORTH ALL THE EFFORT ON YOUR END.

TG: listen!!!!

====================

CG: MHM! MY AURICULAR CHAMBERS ARE WIDE OPEN!

TG: jegus

TG: okay

TG: i have no defense for my literal phrasing but how expeditiously did you shadowstep the fuck away after i said that

TG: because that is some shrek tier "princess and ugly dont go together" level misrepresentation of my sweet self

TG: like if this wasnt obviously a heated platonic argument we were having i would probably be digging what the reference even if it was a shitty trope

====================

TG: i just

TG: have been thinking about some things and none of those things have got an iota of a thing to do with you or your blood

TG: thing

TG: man

TG: i dont know why you think id be so pressed about your vein juice its like

TG: a normal ass color for a normal ass guy

TG: and obviously it was a major fucking deal from how you talk about it but it doesnt need to be anymore

====================

TG: the thing is i just dont like have the same attitude as you about fighting and stuff and thats not something i am getting into right now but i am gonna make it expressly clear

TG: that its just kind of fucked up for me to sit my ass down and listen to someone spew gold and medals and confetti colored shit going googoo all over tall and loathsome ass bloodletters he never knew

TG: and have him tell me he wants to be the best guy at combat since samurai fuckin jack

TG: and thats my capital B business believe me the emphasis is there

====================

CG: SO IS THIS ABOUT ME WANTING TO BE PART OF SOMETHING YOU DON'T AGREE WITH? BECAUSE THRESHECUTIONERS DON'T EVEN FUCKING EXIST ANYMORE. I LITERALLY COULD NOT DO THIS IF I TRIED AT THIS POINT, SO YOU CAN UNKNOT YOUR “KNIGHTY WHITIES” ABOUT IT.

TG: being anti-military is not my point but damn if it isnt a thing thats probably true anyways so good job sleuthing that out

CG: WHAT IS YOUR POINT, DAVE.

TG: bluh

TG: i just said i dont wanna talk about it man

====================

CG: OKAY,

====================

CG: OKAY.

CG: I MEAN. IT FEELS KIND OF IMPORTANT TO THE CONTEXT OF THIS WHOLE UNAMBIGUOUSLY PLATONIC ARGUMENT WE'VE BEEN HAVING

CG: WHICH I'M RELIEVED WE AGREE ON BY THE WAY

CG: BUT IF YOU DON'T WANT ME TO KNOW I'M NOT GOING TO WRING IT OUT OF YOU. IT'S FINE.

====================

CG: …IF YOU DECIDE AT SOME POINT THAT YOU WANT TO TELL ME THOUGH, MY RUMBLE VESSELS ARE STILL OPEN.

TG: i swear youre making those up on the spot at this point

CG: I'M KEEPING MY LANGUAGE'S ART ALIVE, DAVE. IT'S BASIC DECENCY TO THE PLANET THAT RAISED ME.

TG: heh

====================

TG: yknow we got these things called anatomical snuffboxes

TG: its got that right amount of vague nose wrinklage to it that i feel like youd be right at home saying that

TG: snug as a grub even

CG: WHAT PART IS THAT???

TG: its that little weird bone bit that sticks out on the back of your palm when you flex your thumb right

====================

TG: look

CG: HUH. LOOKING AT THAT IS KIND OF WIGGING ME OUT.

TG: yeah its kinda gross rose told me about it

TG: but anyways

====================

TG: are we cool

CG: I MEAN… I GUESS SO. YOU WEREN'T ACTUALLY INSULTING ME, RIGHT?

TG: hell no dude never

CG: OKAY. I COMPLETELY RESCIND THE MYRIAD OF WAYS I JUST INSULTED YOU. AND I'M SORRY.

TG: nah i know its just fluff at this point

====================

CG: I STILL DON'T APPRECIATE YOU TELLING ROSE THINGS I SAY TO YOU IN CONFIDENCE. THAT WAS BETWEEN YOU, ME, AND MY NOW NON-EXISTENT HOME PLANET ROTTING AWAY TO A CRATERED GRAY HUSK IN ANOTHER DEAD UNIVERSE.

TG: i swear that was like the only thing its just that she gets it and i cant keep my mouth from going on about the gettable stuff

TG: they call me the babbling brook the way my flows so audible

TG: i wont do it again

CG: NO,

====================

CG: I GET IT HONESTLY.

CG: I'M BASICALLY THE NUMBER ONE PROPRIETOR OF AIRED GRIEVANCES IN ALL OF PARADOX SPACE AND THEN SOME, AND I'D ALSO BECOME ITS BIGGEST HYPOCRITE IF I HELD IT AGAINST YOU.

TG: thanks

TG: but i mean

TG: at the gigantic risk of sounding uh

====================

TG: ………..

CG: ?

====================

TG: well

TG: i kinda just think youre better at being a guy to chill out and watch movies with than a guy to tangle fists with

TG: and i dont think theres anything wrong with being that

TG: i think its cool

====================

CG: …THAT'S AN ALARMINGLY BRAZEN OBSERVATION TO MAKE OF SOMEONE YOU'VE KNOWN FOR ABOUT THE SPAN OF SEVEN SEASONAL EQUINOXES, DAVE.

TG: i dont know what that means but it sure is probably

CG: AM I ALLOWED TO ASK WHAT EVEN GIVES YOU THAT IMPRESSION????

TG: i just got that inkling about you man

====================

TG: and you can do whatever you want with that info

TG: throw it in the load gaper or whatever if you want i dont really care

TG: give it a swirly and slam it in a locker call it a nerd break its glasses whatever

TG: but beyond this whole lord english thing weve got going on i am pretty content to never aggress my fellow man slash alien slash monster again if i can help it

TG: i think thats pretty fair given what thats been like so far

====================

TG: and yknow its cool to have some company when im waxing emotional over the narrative depth of click starring adam sandler which we are watching next by the way

CG: UGH, FIIIIIIIIINE. JUST TO MAKE UP FOR CALLING YOUR THINKPAN SMOOTH AND SUPERFLUOUS.

====================

TG: score

TG: we should argue all the time

CG: SNRK

#davekat #dave strider #karkat vantas #homestuck #meteorstuck #comix #argument

1K notes · View notes

wriothesleysgf · 6 months

Text

wonderland— wriothesley.

★ : wriothesley is tired of your phone ringing. he's not going to let something like that stop him having fun.

cw : riding, teasing, exhibitionism, praise, m. m-sturb-tion, spit, fem reader.

"fucking angelic," wriothesley growled, punctuating the phrase with a slap to your ass. the sound echoed around the room, combining with the grunts and groans emanating from the two colliding bodies.

you continued to ride him as best as you could, though the pace that he was attempting to set was becoming too much; the man was essentially using you like a toy at this point. what had begun as you slowly grinding on his thigh whilst he finished up some paperwork had lead to his thick cock kissing your cervix as he gripped your hips tight enough that the indents of his blunt nails were visible.

"is my pretty girl struggling? why don't i take—" he began, but was cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. he ignored it initially, letting it go to voicemail. the caller didn't leave a message, so certainly it couldn't be important, right?

wrong. after the third call, wriothesley grabbed your phone from his desk and checked the caller id. he turned the screen to face you, and before even a syllable could pass your lips he had hit the answer button. he put the phone to your ear, hinting for you to take it and answer the call.

"y- yes, monseiur neuvillette? is everything okay?" you spoke in the most professional voice that you could muster, given that wriothesley's cock was still nestled within you.

"stay quiet, princess. you don't want your boss knowing how you really spend your lunch breaks, do you?"

your raised eyebrows soon turned into a warning glare, as wriothesley picked you up from his lap and put you onto his desk. with your back flat against the hard wood, he took a moment to see exactly how messy he'd already made your sweet cunt. even just with one finger traced through your sensitive folds, and you were forced to bite your bottom lip.

"is everything okay? are you feeling unwell?" the iudex queried.

you had to use every last ounce of strength to maintain your composure. "i'm perfectly fine, it's just a little cold, that's all."

wriothesley's smirk gave you the urge to slap it off of his face. he knew precisely how to drive you crazy, and it worried you. whilst trying to maintain the conversation with your boss, he continued to tease you.

he bent down to place a kiss to your swollen clit, and the short whine that fell from your lips was almost certainly audible on the other end of this call. if he did notice, however, he didn't mention it. nor did he mention any noises you made from the subsequent kitten licks to the sensitive bud.

wriothesley was enjoying this a little too much. he decided to go all out, lining his cock up with your puffy cunt despite the wide eyes from you— it wasn't a plea not to do this, no, but rather a look of shock that he'd go so far. in fact, it was turning you on even more. the risk of being caught was exhilarating, and had your slick dripping onto the desk below you.

"oh, baby," wriothesley cooes as he slowly pushes into you. "always take me so well, 's like your cunt was made for me," he punctates the sentence by collecting a fat glob of saliva in his mouth and spitting directly onto your clit. the combination of such a lewd action with his praise filled words never failed to make you weak.

with a few more harsh thrusts into you, your phone lay forgotten about on the desk. your whimpers became more prominent, and from the look in your eyes you were bordering on overstimulation.

wriothesley removed his left glove with his teeth, throwing it aside before putting two fingers to your lips. he didn't gag you, instead slowly allowing you to suck on his digits as a way to stay quieter— how considerate. you swirled your tongue around his digits, your hands both on his wrist. soft pleas came out distorted, though from the way that your cunt intensely pulsed, wriothesley knew you were close to cumming.

"think you can stay quiet, princess?" he chuckles. you nodded sheepishly, and he removes his fingers from your mouth. "good girl."

however, that trademark smirk start to appear again.

instead of going easy on you, he immediately targets your pretty clit. a couple of taps followed by a few strokes had you writhing around. wriothesley tutted a few times, unimpressed. "he can probably hear you thrashing around on my desk, darling," he reminds you, nodding towards your phone. you assumed he'd hung up, though the quieted calls of your name made it clear that neuvillette was still on the line.

wriothesley moved you around a little, pushing your legs up into somewhat of a mating press. his goal was to keep you still enough that you couldn't shift out of his reach as your highs approached. your ankles were at his shoulders, his body pressed against your thighs. the hard, powerful thrusts continued, and you were a blubbering mess. the man took a moment to slap your tits, always finding the way that your flesh jiggled incredibly attractive. with a pinch of your stiff nipple for good measure, he returned to his attack on your swollen clit.

"go on, baby," wriothesley cooed. "you know you wanna cum for me, yeah? let me hear it, princess,"

there were tears in your eyes from the overstimulation. with his thick cock consistently grazing over all the spots that made your back arch and the gentle touches to your cunt, it didn't take too long before your nails dragged down wriothesley's back and your thighs to begin to shake. you babbled something incoherent again and before you knew it, your orgasm came crashing down on you. it triggered the man's own high, and he shot his load deep inside of you.

he leaned over you, allowing you both to be close to one another as you caught your breath. wriothesley mumbled gentle praises into your ear and carressed your cheek, wanting you to feel as safe and loved as ever.

what the two of you were unaware of, was the absolute bliss being experienced on the other end of the line too. if one were to listen closely, they would hear the esteemed iudex's heavy pants.

#♡｡ now tracking: kfairy ☆.ᐟ #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader

3K notes · View notes

seawitchkaraoke · 2 years

Text

Listen ppl, asking polite questions in good faith is never evil or bad. Like. There's a whole lot of "don't make [insert minority group] do the work/research/etc for you" and yes, absolutely don't demand unpaid labour from them but I think a lot of the time it stops ppl from even just asking basic polite questions? Like I'm researching how to make websites and seminars and so on more accessible to disabled ppl and I have an organisation literally in my town that works on both LGBTQ+ and disability advocacy and I am still hesitating to ask them literally just if they can point me to some resources bc apparently the internet has fucked me up.

Like. There's only so much I know from my own experiences and community. There's only so much I can research without missing some disability - bc I can't exactly google "how to make websites accessible to x" when I forget X exists. And a polite question that they can 100% say no to? Is not? Somehow wrong to ask? And yet I need to do all this reasoning to allow myself to ask in fear of, what, burdening them with work they don't want to do? When this isn't even a random disabled person but an organisation working specifically to make lifes better for disabled ppl? And they can absolutely say no to the work?

It's ridiculous. Ask questions. Take no for an answer. That's really all there should be to it.

#disability #accessibility #context: I'm pushing to make the events and such my work puts on more accessible #but since I'm the only one with any knowledge on the subject #I'm the one who has to come up with how to do that #and there's stuff that's obvious like alt text #and stuff i personally am very aware of like how to help the adhd ppl stay focused #and a whole bunch of stuff i have some vague knowledge about that i can research #but i definitely have blind spots too #and also stuff i just don't really know what the best approach is #like my organisation is too small to cater to every single potential need #it's a lot more doable to ask ppl what they need and try to make that happen but uh #how do you best even ask that? bc obviously ppl will often be wary to diclose their disabilities #case in point being that i have adhd and could ask for accomodation from my uni and yet have never done so ever #so yeah gonna write that email..... just as soon as i figure out how to phrase it #also anyone wants to jump on this post with advice or random infodumps on various disabilities feel free

1 note · View note

capslocked · 6 months

Text

KINKVEMBER DAY: 4

[prompt: roleplay] male reader x kang hyewon 8k words

“I need you,” Hyewon says in the uneasy dark of a hotel room, with two urgent fistfuls of your shirt, “need you to do to me all the things my husband never will.” “Yeah, I know,” you tell her, “you said that,” and her eyebrows move in all the wrong directions, “I’m just wondering if, you know, maybe we should give him a little more credit.”

Here’s the truth:

Hyewon doesn’t believe in leaving evidence behind and you don't find it particularly productive to doubt her; you’ve been talking in code for years. Parts and pieces of yourselves reduced down and bottled into set phrases that, to anyone else, would be totally incomprehensible.

"i've been thinking," she texts you, which you've come to understand means she's already made up her mind, "maybe we should do that thing we were talking about. tonight."

(You're not always so fast on the uptake.)

You send two back two texts, both of which ask "which thing?" because the hallway from the breakroom to your desk has poor reception and it never lets you send just one.

Then, right after you cross the threshold between signal-drowning-concrete and the glitzy glass-walled arboretum they've built to make you feel like you're not a total cog in their corporate machine, your phone pings the receipt of Hyewon's reply: a picture - her laptop, propped up on your coffee table with its screen angled for perusal, of a booking site that's filtered to show results for their 'king bed & view' room at a midrange hotel a forty-five-minute ride from your apartment.

"not really doing much narrowing down here hyewon."

She replies to you - her text bubble appearing over another couple still images, of herself in the vanity mirror as she curls her hair around her finger and holds this little black slip of a dress over her shoulder, black lacy lingerie in tow, the whole nine - with:

"i'm feeling kinda adventurous."

Five o’clock rolls around but you never really do figure it out. You spend the last three hours at work deciding which kink of hers (oh, does she have a few) this is all in service to.

There's nothing overtly sexual about her pics in the first place - not more than usual anyway, more showing off her curves and cut jaw than showcasing anything for her 'adventurous' intent. So that can't be the tell - you'd seen her in a corset once (you can't unsee it) and the angle of her hips to the mirror makes you think that if she was planning on pulling on a pair of crotchless panties then she probably would've found her thigh high stockings, too.

You try and think of what the two of you had even talked about when discussing these little scenes - how many times you'd ended up 'in the mood' during or after such a meeting of the minds, how it'd snowballed from there, a whole list of filthy what-ifs that she'd probably put more thought into than you ever have - but you draw a total blank. It could be any of a number of things.

Until,

"i left you instructions on the kitchen island," reads a text on your phone which you definitely don’t check while you’re driving -

And then it hits you.

"ah."

"yeah, 'ah'," she replies.

A quarter past seven at the hotel bar is way too early for any real promiscuous activity, but then again, you're here playing at pretend and half the fun of games like this is in the setup.

Meet me at the bar, your instructions read, introduce yourself, and play it by ear.

There's some couples at the other end, some friends downing shots by the round, people musing over their aperitifs, and a woman sipping alone at the bar - Hyewon, appearing to you from the back first:

The pointed edges of her shoulders narrow out over this tiny cocktail dress that somehow covers less of her than if it weren't there at all, skin tight, accentuating even her softest curves. She has her hair fixed a particular way - teased enough to flip at the ends but still a single sweep down her shoulders, pulled together softly by a ribbon in the back, tied like a fantasy, allowing a wispy strand to fall to her face - glossy and dark and glowing to this rich, deep mahogany where it's cast in the lamplight.

The line of her throat, of her chest. Where her hips meet her waist in a rounding flare. The effort and beauty she's gone to, for you - that she puts in every day just because she knows it gets your attention, can do more than turn a head or two; Hyewon's appearance is almost indifferent of you, only coincidental, but she puts on a damn good act.

(You look a lot more worn in comparison: jacket thrown over dress shirt and khakis, tie loose at the neck. Standard office attire with just a step-outside-regulation. Disheveled.)

A drink, you suppose - approaching the bar to try and catch the bartender's attention to order a single malt.

But if Hyewon's been waiting long, she doesn't complain when you pull into the stool beside her and sit for a long moment.

"Do you mind if I join you?" you say over a pair of politely folded hands - and that's generally where her 'instructions' end.

The look she fixes you with is just this unashamed smoldering, her body language this contradictory kind of lazy - cool, like her night was going exactly the way she planned but she still had places to be.

"It depends," she replies, one slender finger curled around the stem of her martini glass - which historically, is a drink she hates. "Who's asking?"

"Just me," you offer, letting the gesture and your tone leave it up to her. And then slowly, perhaps awkwardly: "ostensibly a complete and utter stranger who knows a gorgeous woman when he sees one - and who could never pass up a chance to see how the rest of her is."

"Smooth."

"I guess it is, considering you didn't immediately run for the exit."

Hyewon nearly snorts.

"Hard not to." She tilts her head back at you, assessing. Her cheeks are rosy pink. "A handsome thing like you doesn't usually buy themself a girl's time with flattery -"

"Buy your time or your drinks?" you tease, and you can tell she wants to roll her eyes - but she keeps them carefully lowered. Eyelashes dipping down like blackened fans.

Hyewon shifts slightly, resting her chin onto the heel of her wrist like she's leaning against an imaginary windowpane and tipping her face a little sideways. It makes you smile. "One gets the other, if you catch my meaning."

Maybe it takes you a little too long to lift your gaze off her lips to find her eyes, or off the sweeping curve of the hemline sitting high across her long legs, but she watches you for just a breath. It's a more telling moment that she pretends she doesn't know you.

"You can look at me if you like," and then without further preamble, she introduces herself with a slight tilt of the head and an expectant expression: "call me Hyewon."

You figure that if you've gotta say one word to get the ball rolling you want to say her name, and as a little revenge for forcing you to think on this scene and think on what to say, what your character would say, how exactly she wanted you to go about 'meeting' her in a hotel bar, how her fucking scenario's been building up in her head for god-knows-how-long (even though, in the scheme of the two of you and your relationship, it’s nowhere close to being the most demanding sex you've had), you reply simply with:

"Pretty."

It's satisfying, how she hesitates - pausing a little longer on your face to gauge exactly what you meant. Studying. But the next beat of your heart - or hers - is effortless, easy.

"I know. That's what my husband calls me."

"Husband?" You keep yourself from raising an eyebrow. "And I don't suppose I'm also... married?"

"Different day, different you."

"Meaning I have a wife or a mistress of my own," and you flick your wrist at the barkeep for a top-up of what's in front of Hyewon. "You're telling me I'm the kind of man who'd only settle for two."

It doesn't sound quite right, though Hyewon picks up on it. Doesn't let on. "Aren't men like you always? Charming to a fault, but always voracious - insatiable, especially with women like me."

"Women like you."

"Married women. Unavailable," she simpers, and in a practiced little motion, draws her hand out to where you can see it properly, this sparkle on her fourth finger that catches the lowlight of the bar. The diamond looks real - not that you'd actually know - and your stomach flexes up mid-somersault thinking about the financial impropriety for what amounts to a gag. A practical joke. Hyewon the comedian.

Still, you go with it and take her hand in yours, admiring. "What a pity." The glint off its faceted surface - Hyewon's watchful as she allows it.

"Isn't it," she agrees.

The more unnerving thing - besides how composed Hyewon can make herself be - is how the narrative quickly becomes a whole hell of a lot clearer with the context of marriage in play. She's mentioned it before: the infidelity thing, the way it leads to the raunchiest, filthiest bits she'll dare to explore. In some ways, her desire for the untouchable makes a lot more sense -

And maybe that's what had been nagging at your mind since she brought up the idea of playing the part: you always end up kissing in that stupid 'caught up' sort of way. With an intensity that's hard to beat. Even though you wouldn't ever cheat on her. Not in a million years. You'd watch her leave before doing anything like that.

But it's thrilling, almost, and even more thrilling that this isn't entirely improvisation: how well the two of you might actually play this off, as two total strangers to this illusory little roleplay that you'd normally say was your very last interest.

"But you know there's something I've come to appreciate about married men," Hyewon continues, her voice in this conspiratorial sort of hushed.

You blink, drawing her out.

"They know how to tie a knot."

There's the flirty wink, an upward flick of the chin that draws your eye to the span of her chest. To her body in that skin-hugging dress and your fingers entangled in hers - the gentle bump and shift of the bodies behind her, moving between the tables - Hyewon a queen of circumstance, playing to the moment as it bends; as her lips part in a pleased smile, red and smooth, almost innocent, and you can't help but imagine tasting her on your tongue, the force that'd take for her to yield when you finally got your hands in her hair.

(What a character, honestly.)

"Tell me something," you say, "why would a married woman, this pretty little thing like you, be all alone in a place like this - without her charming husband."

Hyewon's smile curls at the edges like smoke. "I never said he was charming."

You raise an eyebrow. "Good-looking, then."

"Never said as much either."

“Why are you with someone you find neither attractive nor charming?”

Hyewon makes a face, slightly pitied. “If that Isn’t what I’m asking myself everyday.”

"Hm." You narrow your eyes into something more quizzical than suggestive. It works on her anyway. "That doesn't feel too much like it's in character, Hyewon."

She shrugs, but it's that coy kind of shrug. She thinks you'll let her off easy - you usually do. All considered, she's the type who thrives off the chase and, as of today, so do you.

"But he is cute." Her expression is just this side of sweet, as she takes a dainty sip of her drink. Like the taste doesn’t bother her, like she isn't pretending she doesn't hate it with every fiber of her being. Like this is easy. "And maybe -" she quirks an eyebrow at you, withholding a smirk. "-you're right. Maybe, I was looking for someone cuter to fill the bill. And luck would have it, here he is."

So - apparently - her character doesn’t mind a little light infidelity.

Hyewon takes in the vague sense that the message wasn’t as clear as she might have liked, her forehead scrunching as she tries to convey - in a way that would communicate even to an airhead - some realization to play your part.

"Maybe it's the wrong question,” you start over, taking it from somewhere near the top, “what are you doing here, with me?"

That's when Hyewon graces you with one of the soft, slow kind of smiles: the kind that manages both an air of 'you dimwit' and 'good question'. Her fingertips barely graze yours but it's noticeably electric. Just enough to feel your pulse fluttering.

(You don't care that none of it’s real - Hyewon looks to you through thick eyelashes like a goddess of temptation and sin - and it makes something wicked coil up warm at the pit of your gut. A curious thrill and a recklessness that you have to admit feels a little nice - being the man trying to talk this woman into bed. The challenge and the buildup, the want to work for it. It's new. It's fresh. Lo-and-behold, it's kinda hot.)

When you catch her stare, she fidgets. So slightly, so briefly, your chest is on fire and you're barely into the pages of her plans, of this night ahead.

"Wish fulfillment, let's say," and that is no less true. "See it’s my husband."

"Mhmm."

"He respects me too much to do the things I'm going to ask you to do."

"Like?" you continue to prod.

Hyewon lets out the tiniest shiver of a sigh, like a trickle of cold water down the length of her spine. "Take a good guess."

You finish the rest of Hyewon's martini, slow. Savoring the warmth and bitterness sliding down the back of your throat. The night's young, sure - and if you're supposed to be spending it all wrapped around Hyewon's finger. This means you can take your time.

"Show me your room?" you propose, gesturing to the empty glass.

"I thought you'd never ask."

At your offering, she stands up and throws on her coat - long, double-breasted, chic - but only really just off her shoulders to have the hem hit her legs mid-thigh. One of her many personal quirks. Hyewon knows how to move like there aren't two eyes staring at her wherever she goes: not the awkward side-to-side of a girl who wasn't made to wear heels - a loping gait - nor the assured click, click of the taller kind that totter like it's all they've got going for them.

Something totally different: a little careless and a little haughty and an assurance of the highest confidence.

She winds an arm round yours like they do in movies, this parody of a leading lady - Hyewon not a seductress as much as she is someone who'll look the part just to convince you otherwise. There is a pretty big discrepancy, you find, between her bravado and her smile, her figure and her artistry - you couldn't act if you wanted to; meanwhile, she does whatever she damn well pleases. And somehow that doesn't even begin to cover the things that turn her on.

The two of you make for the stairs, winding up floor after floor until it's perfectly quiet, perfectly out of sight - hidden away from prying eyes and ears.

The silence of an empty hotel stairwell is thick - Hyewon's hand comes off the railing, as she takes to the wall and turns to face you. It's a gentle tug at the tie loose around your neck, barely any give before you're already there, holding her by the hips.

"Might've gotten us lost there," you whisper, as her finger plays at your chest and finds its way round the collar of your shirt. Your top button is already undone by the time you notice she's not fond of it. "The elevators would've gotten us where we're headed faster."

"Don't worry." She hums, leaning in close - like a magnet, like gravity. "You're getting the scenic route."

"Anything to stall the inevitable," you tease, but it isn't a thread she seems interested in developing.

"Something like that."

Hyewon shifts her weight back onto her right foot, her skirt riding up just barely. The dip between her inner thighs and the smooth curve of her leg is open and bare to your sight, her dark stockings like an unspoken challenge: the panties, lacy, loose, no crotch.

And it gets... indecent, the way your lips connect, how you realize half-way into that kiss, she's still smiling. It isn't any one way that does it; maybe it's the clever use of her tongue, or that particular position you've coaxed her up against the stairwell wall that makes it seem like Hyewon can't be any more in danger - it's too much to handle and your mouth goes slack on the reflex of an apology; her hand has a hold on you by the jaw and it won't budge.

"My husband," she murmurs into you, the trace of the words ghosting into the breath between the both of you. "Never lets me."

"What," you rasp, barely recognizing your own voice, your hand heavy on her side - the very real fear that you might tip over a banister because Hyewon's got her heel half-way into the back of your calf and any less bracing would bring you down. Your thoughts are a fog, with her cheek in one hand and your knee already up between her thighs.

"His wife," she almost swallows down, kisses turning chaste because maybe it's just easier to gently peck out her intentions, how she looks to you with dark eyes, heavy-lidded and wanting, a thumb trailing down the plane of your cheek. It'd feel like pity if you weren't thinking exactly the same.

You try to finish it for her:

"She likes it rough."

"No." Her nose traces yours before she connects you again - gentle and slow, and a shudder rolls all down the expanse of her shoulders; you think you have it about right. Until she makes the slightest adjustment and her grip in your hair turns agonizing, perfect and burning on the edge of too tight - too much. You are straining against the wall of a hotel hallway and she's saying, "not rough."

She kisses you. Hard. Until you gasp for the stolen air in her lungs.

"Filthy," she manages against the heat and sting at the side of her cheek.

(Damn.)

Your voice has gone and lodged itself firmly somewhere between her lungs - but there's something that says she knows. That you've got it in you, the brimming potential that might just say everything you ever wanted but couldn't figure the right way to put it.

It's the tone of her voice or the spark in her eyes, but one moment into the next - you're caught in this pull - like gravity's increasing tenfold at her will; her heartbeat's so strong you swear you feel it against your ribs as she's demanding:

"Messy. Dirty. A little uninhibited," and the obvious thrill of that must flare up like lightning under her skin - the way it makes her moan, soft and breathless: "fuck me like my husband doesn't."

She’s not even waiting for the comfort of the room yet, which in hindsight is probably checking more of Hyewon's many boxes - it's the sex in public thing, the fear of discovery thing, the desire to have you ravish her out where anyone can come upon you sort of thing - the thought of which has your jaw go a little slack too. Her leg up is coiled up around your hip, your fingers tangled in her hair and sliding up the length of her thigh, until you're fucking kneading up her ass and drawing out that desperate whine in her.

"Fuck," she exhales into your shoulder - a hand on the metal bannister to brace against those little circles you start to rub inside her, pushing - slowly - one, two, three knuckles deep, testing - before drawing back, and plunging forward again. This ache, slow and purposeful, pressing just enough into her until there's a wet sort of friction that has your hand slick all down your wrist.

It never takes long, with your fingers on her clit, fingers inside her, a palm covering the moans out of her mouth -

She cums just like that.

Whining and broken and bent under you, and with an elbow hard against her ribcage to make the breaths come shallow.

"Stay quiet for me, sweetheart," you find yourself murmuring, as your teeth graze the shell of her ear - the short burst of hair and silky strands across the back of her neck; you're undoing the neat ribbon tied round the length of her hair and letting her waves settle on her shoulder in time for you to swallow down the sound of her sighs, the tension in her lips, and the frantic jolt when your fingers push through the wet, heat of her pussy again, merciless and quick. You have to be careful; she nearly bites your fucking tongue out.

"Can't." Her jaw's tight on it, the slight staccato to her breathing, murmuring and slightly dazed: "if we get caught, someone will see. Someone will notice."

Her next exhale is more shaky. "Anyone could see us like this," with just her toes curling and her stomach tensing on every second beat. Your grip leaves a bruise. "Please-"

"We're not supposed to be doing this at all, are we? If you've got a husband waiting somewhere?"

You hear yourself, and it sounds sorta degenerate, though in all the right ways, you figure, like something straight out of one of Hyewon's romance novels, the dirty, smutty ones that she swears up and down she simply reads for the plot, but the dazed, hazy kind of mood they get her worked up into suggest otherwise.

You trace the rough pad of your thumb over her pussy, this delicate, ghost of a touch. One you'd have to strain to even tell if it was there or not until she whines - eyes screwed shut like she doesn't mean to, just does. The sound of it bouncing around the stairwell.

And then, all this wet: her skirt's ridden all the way up to her stomach, damp and near-transparent with slick, and you can just imagine the puffy pink between her legs - between her stockings in the afterglow of an orgasm, spent and sensitive and sore and wanting for more. Your eyes linger a little too long -

"I shouldn't let you," she manages, half a moan on it - one of her heels comes up the stair you're standing on and the way Hyewon clings onto you for balance says enough, but still, she demands, with all the strength her throat allows: "make it fast. You're lucky I let you see me like this at all -"

And she cuts off abruptly, looking at you.

(She'll play coy for a while longer. Which, Hyewon being Hyewon, will look like as much an effort as her sprawl out on the bed for you is.)

"The room," you say to her, harshly, "where is it."

"Four more floors."

Room 1014 as it turns out is like every other room you've ever been in, each one perhaps a little more identical than the last - except this one has Hyewon sitting in your lap while you get comfortable on the bed, and there's also the way she looks in the mirror above the headboard, the desperation in her stare, right back into the reflection.

"What all," she says, "do you want to do to me?"

This time - no explicit instructions - just an implication. You have to figure it out.

See, the image of her is like every fantasy rolled into one, wearing this thin black bra that has her breasts just about spilling over. They're amazing - the color and shape of her skin. Soft. Cradled between the cups like a godsend, and maybe that's why it drives her a little crazy how good you look biting down the ridge of her breast and flicking your eyes back up to catch her expression.

It has you feeling, if nothing else, a little ‘adventurous,’ too.

Her belly tenses on a heavy sigh and it's one hell of a thing to have Hyewon staring you down, like you're an animal or an idiot, with her eyes flashing and a thinly veiled anger in the purse of her lips. There's a thousand things she'd like to do to you - for you to do to her - but it's about the predicament: the silk necktie she'd pulled off you as you both stumbled through the door has ended up around her wrists, pinning her arms behind her back in a way that suggests a loss of control. Just the mere suggestion of a little playacting, but she's almost keening.

You feel the touch of her right calf keep rising - curving down your waist, hooked behind the small of your back - her thighs smooth, and a hot line along your sides.

"I should fuck that pretty mouth of yours," you say against the shell of her ear, because you know better than anyone, the very concept gets her wet. Uncomfortably so.

And she leans her head against your temple like she'd love it. You could be imagining the little whimper as she clenches up round nothing - until a growl escapes the back of her throat and she's saying -

"Is that how you're going to cum? With me on my knees and nothing else? Cover my pretty face? How you’ll completely ruin me?. You’re more creative than that."

“I don’t know that I am.”

Her hips move to find some friction where there isn't any until you give her some, pulling your cock out through your pants and feeling it brush, once, twice against the seam of her. Hot, and hard. Ready. And if she only tried a little, the angle was made perfectly to slot your head in, but neither of you move. She doesn't yield.

"Let me fuck myself on you," she suggests, strained, almost pleading. "Then perhaps I will."

You could take her like she is. Any which way. But this is about getting a particular reaction - one that'll leave her spent and trembling - and nothing like that will happen without a little bit of preparation and prelude. You want to watch her writhe for hours. Until she forgets she's playing a character at all, until she's panting your name and whimpering for release, her cheeks burning.

But at least it gets her writhing on you, the heat and press of her body as she leans in close, your eyes locking:

"Get your cock inside me-" the urgency in her voice. "-fuck me right now, this second-"

"Say it again."

"Fill me with your perfect cock." The words land right on your lips, frayed at the edges as the tether to her control slips another notch. "Push my thighs apart until you break me," Hyewon tells you - and then with her legs twisted up in the comforter, the creaking mattress and the sweat on the sheets: she rolls her hips like they're pleading for it.

"Pushy."

"Gentle's got no appeal for us."

"Apparently not," you reply - but then it's suddenly a lot easier, to slide one hand in Hyewon's hair, and grip at the knotted silk wrapped tight 'round her wrists to hold her. There's no hiding the subtle arching of her spine, how the pressure off her arms pulls her chest in or makes it all the more comfortable, she doesn't let on, she'll probably keep pretending she doesn't like this, that she hasn't always wanted -

You run your tongue over her collarbone and thrust up inside her, once - a warning that you're not giving in to her quite yet.

The smile that runs her lips is brittle. Like her patience isn't what it used to be - she makes a quiet little noise, pained. A flash of discomfort. But there's a moan and a curse out of her:

"Like that. Harder."

"What does harder mean?" you ask, with a deliberate repetition in motion, thrusting upward, forcing her hips to shift a few degrees further back - her knees clenching around the sheets as you're met with no give - Hyewon's resistance through a dark smile, and her grip slackened in her hands, despite you keeping a fist wound tight in the hair on the back of her head, tightening the other around her restraint.

Her throat flinches: this shudder.

She takes a couple heaving, open-mouthed breaths, before she has it in her to glare at you again.

"Harder-" The way her mouth shapes around the word gets the better of you - cute little cupid's bow in pink, full and swollen and pursed up as if in pain. Or desire. Or both, the way her head is tipped back, hair half undone - an idea is already coiling at the back of your mind. "-until I can't stand."

"Or talk?"

And when your hand loosens on her wrists, her posture slumps like it's relief, that you're finally going to move along in a direction she's getting some satisfaction from -

Hyewon shakes her head in a moment that's almost blissed.

"You," her voice breaks on the tail end, "fucking wish you could shut me up that easily -"

In a motion almost gentle, you twist the length of hair down around her, from her scalp to her jaw, and wrap it around a hand. "Let's see if you'll change your mind, shall we."

There's a sharp draw of air in past her lips, just one sound, not a word. No proper rebuttal. She bites down, teeth clicking.

So you pull.

And this isn't some revelation, that Hyewon's cunt is heaven. Slick and tight, the fit around your cock and the gasp escaping the base of her throat - that isn't new. You've been here countless times, fucked her past her breaking point, beyond what should reasonably satisfy her or satisfy you, but that still doesn't take away from this incredible, heady rush that pulses through your entire body. It never stops getting better, not inch-after-fucking-inch the way you're bottoming out inside Hyewon's body and feel how hard the rest of her muscles tense up in the contact, how her pussy tightens and quivers, and grips around the entirety of your cock, the briefest taste of pleasure and release before it's pulled back just out of her reach - overstimulated, until Hyewon cries out.

You expect, predict the fight, the whimpers that spill out of her mouth with every slap of your skin and the breathless way she begs, pleads, like she'd rather her pride take it from her than have your fingers tug her hair up, right out of her scalp, with your arm locked around her lower waist. With your cock pumping faster, faster and a pressure, hot and inescapable, right there - the friction building - the slippery-wet heat sliding along your shaft with every stroke until you bottom out and her next exhale is a sob.

A goddamn fucking sob and the warm gush of liquid down her thighs - all on you. You fingers are pressed into her ass, pulling onto you, steading her bounce - and Hyewon finds her breathing uneven, as you smear wet across the curve of her backside, rubbing circles into her lower back as you catch up on the rhythm she'd lost.

"This tight little cunt, huh," you tease, and she nods so desperately it seems like she might snap. Like she might cry again and this time for real, a drop of her eye color past the blush, streaking down her cheek. You have the wherewithal to remember your character, your blocking, your lines: "this is what your husband won't do? Won't fuck you on every piece of furniture until you're a ruined fucked-out mess? Doesn't have the decency to work over his little slutty-wife until she's passed out, dripping with cum?"

Hyewon's fingers curl up into two balls of white knuckles and she chokes on her reply. "He won't."

"Tell him. He has a hot and dirty little piece of ass right under his own roof-"

"You think," and the string of words trails off when you manage to grind in, at this angle that has her reeling, trembling at every shift and jerk in momentum. Your knuckles drag against her soft and giving curves, almost gripping at her in the attempt to hold her down on you. "-my husband isn't enough."

"Well you wanted me to fuck the domestic housewife out of you," you murmur, taking two greedy handfuls of the ass bouncing in your lap, rubbing your palms along her hips, up and around the shape of her abdomen and her ribcage like you'd map it, memorize it. She wants this, you know this: your palms come around and over and brush your thumbs against her rising gooseflesh - she's putty in your hands. "No strings attached, remember, a one night kind of thing-"

"My husband loves me."

"Then it seems-"

"He makes me cum with his hands alone."

Your jaw works tight - Hyewon's cunt feels as good wrapped around you as she says your cock feels making a mess of it.

"Tells me he'd die happy hearing me moan his name."

"Oh, because no matter where he goes," you say, fingers wrapping under and around the back of her neck, forcing her to look you in the eye, "no matter what, your sweet cunt's the only one his mouth is ever watering for, isn't that right-"

A blink, lashes thick and feathering down and over the pools of her pupils as you have a hold of her tight.

You're having a hard time with this, and you want to give it to her, the toe-curling-crescendo that would see her cumming at your will, or worse, losing the plot completely and your entire setup falling away from the charade of characters you'd both conjured. But she looks at you like she's never loved anyone like she loves you, the naked, barefaced devotion, the tenderness - a quick breath, a second - and the game is suddenly something far more personal, a truth. It isn't exactly fair: how your heart stutters. How much her heartbeat makes your pulse flutter, the electrifying rush you get when you fuck roughly up into her tight, wet cunt and make her bite down on nothing in the throes another orgasm.

You barely have a second to think of something coherent, let alone an out before she kisses you. If that isn’t totally disarming. So you move her into the next, flipping her onto her stomach, and she does nothing to fight back: Hyewon just lies there - the side of her face plastered to the comforter - exhausted, and gives a willing, malleable moan at the contact where your hand digs into the shape of her upper thighs, spreading them out as her elbows struggle behind her back.

"Here, baby," you say, finally unwinding the silk knot between her wrists, "I'll have you like the little desperate fucktoy you really are."

There's the bite to her bottom lip, the whole five seconds it takes for her hands to spread out and twist her fingers tight in the bedspread, before she whines - full-throated - and rocks back onto her toes to arch her back.

(See, the thing: Hyewon likes being fucked within an inch of her life. On all fours and pleading for more.)

With your free hand, you reach around her to run over her inner thighs.

Hyewon brings her grip to the bottom of the bed frame, for purchase, or leverage, you don't know, and in one simple motion, you slip your cock back deep inside her pussy.

You curse under your breath.

Hyewon fucking collapses.

It's a dangerous combination, having her begging and you nearly fully clothed while she's wearing barely more than this thin strip of black silk around her waist and a stocking on one leg, but you can't help it - she looks good this way.

"Fuck," she spits out, voice lost when your hips find hers in this wet, sloppy crash of skin that gets louder, faster and more punishing on each beat. "Like that, oh my God-"

Her whimpering only gets worse - when you start only pulling out halfway, until she's gasping like she can't breathe. You think there isn't a more wonderful, more obscene, more gorgeous thing than Hyewon spread out in front of you - the curve of her spine defining each and every one of the lines, dips, and rises of her body - and you would thank God or some higher deity right about now.

It’s fuck and please and every other little pliant utterance of “fuck my brains out, use me, make me beg, I'm so turned on right now I'll let you fuck me anyway you want - harder, faster, I can do whatever, just show me how, make me, push and fuck me hard until I'm raw and aching - god - like this, let me cum, please, let me - keep fucking going, oh my god, please, like this, fuck, just like this-"

You do thank God, actually - there's mirrors everywhere in this room, and you can catch the circular swing of her tits every time you force a curse and a sigh out of her: the bared teeth and the effort to push herself back on her arms, bracing for every thrust, fighting and fumbling to keep her balance and to make sure you have to pound her into the mattress until her cries reach a pitch.

Then, the thing you'd learned she'd never ask for but oh-so-dearly-wanted - you open your palm and bring it down hard on her backside. The impact of your flesh to hers, a crack, a moan and her whole body flexes - and it's then you do it again: matching the hit to the visible red outline of your handprint. The third time, she hisses, biting into the bed sheets so as not to cry out.

"Right? This is what you want? To be fucked and used?"

She doesn't reply with words, because she may in fact be biting her teeth into the cotton threadcount at the end of the bed, but she lifts her ass higher, angles her hips like she's waiting for more. Her brow is creased in a smile, even though a frustrated groan escapes her lips - so you give her that again, and again, until the back of her thighs are turning red and she's clawing one hand back along the length of your legs - pushing and pulling.

"You want me to fuck you senseless, sweetheart?"

And then, so needy and desperate she's just saying the first word that come to mind:

"More-"

"-when I've been railing into you so hard and your husband probably knows already, has to have seen, maybe he's listening at the door- oh," and your whole train of thought comes to a sudden halt upon seeing Hyewon's hand land on the perfect round of her ass, fingers pulling her soft, reddening skin taut, up and away from where your cock is disappearing between her cheeks - to allow more of your shaft into her hot, wet cunt - allow you to fuck her and fuck her up - allow the length of your shaft to slide deeper and hit all the spots that will send her reeling into this orgasm and the next.

Your gaze is stuck however, not to her curves rippling in excess, the damage of your thrusts pounding her body to ruin, or the look of flawless pleasure twisting up the pretty features of Hyewon's reflection, but instead it's the fucking flash and catch of the diamond that adorns her fourth finger. Even when you have her completely helpless, bent on your mercy, she's still wearing that promise, that intention to have and to hold, and you think, for at least a second, this whole roleplay thing isn't the worst idea: being a surrogate to fulfill someone's wildest fantasies. It might even be enough to make you hard all over again - the thrill and the debasement of your girl, lines quickly blurring between the Hyewon you'll take home and put back together and the Hyewon you're fucking pouding into a mattress - the here and now.

"Fuck, Hyewon," you find yourself swearing - steadying the hips rolling back in your palms, bending down until the flat of your chest meets her back, until your nose is in her hair, the long strands sticking to her lips and the back of her ears. Until you feel her shaking as you suckle against her skin, at her neck, hot kisses between the shoulder blades, finding a grip in her hands. Her grip in yours - as she's muffling these exquisite, needy sounds; she is perfect. Hyewon is perfect.

The first time you cum, it's this hot splatter of white: smeared across her ass and the crease of her lower back. It feels almost dirty to think that's just how you feel about it; your heart is stuttering in its erratic pace, but your eyes are drawn and enraptured, the sight of it all.

Then second, maybe your favorite: when she slips her hand to your aching shaft and simply takes you back inside her. This soft, wet, inviting heat that pulls you back to her.

"God- please," her head tips back, you feel the arch of her back through her ribs and stomach, the way her breath catches as you slide your cock through her creamed-out-cunt so much harder and smoother. "It feels so fucking good, baby," and there are tears now, welling in the corner of her eyes, "don't stop, God don't ever stop-"

She can barely finish her sentence before she's cut off, a moan ripped from the bottom of her lungs and a gasp straight from the pain-pleasure that has your balls slapping against her pussy every other stroke. And suddenly she's sitting, or rather, squirming into your arms, her face buried in your shoulders as she starts riding you, and not-quite crying and saying again - again, the whole filthy lot of things: about her wanting you to fill her, to plug her up with your cock. Every thrust she whines in your ears, clutching onto the fabric of your shirt and making a mess of herself in you.

It's this wild and reckless thing that makes its way around the room, on every surface and bit of furniture. You fuck her over the counter, let her ride you on the sofa, the chair, the two of you managing to find some sort of assistance in the wall even, the door frame, her legs up your sides and the slippery-sticky-heat of your mouths connecting and everything that isn't exactly meant to support that kind of strain buckling and nearly giving way - once when the wooden joints in the door-frame shift, once when she begs for release in that frantic voice that doesn't sound a thing like her. And the way she comes apart under you after, on top of you - is even sweeter; you imagine there's this endless possibility for love, for pleasure, a whole world in bundled in the notion that you could do it for her again, that it was always a question of Hyewon letting you have her that way, and the rest was mere foreplay - a stretch.

Only, on the bed again, Hyewon shivers beneath you, this full-body response, and you've got her stretched as she opens up - that the slightest of movements has her already whimpering out "fuck," and "please," and "right there," and "fuck you're going to make me come like this. You're so good, just fucking," and "more, harder, please, you feel so fucking good-"

The desperation for release is so palpable in her that it's curling into your stomach as your press Hyewon's knees into the points and edges of her shoulders and fold in her half - this perfect angle of leverage. Fucking her like she's yours and no one else's - the absolute delight of her cunt, wet, hot, and desperate to milk you empty - her body quaking at the force of each thrust, and the hungry grind of your hips into hers. Her fingers digging and knotting in the sheets around you until her knuckles pale, and your own grasp on her skin threatens to bruise.

"Inside me," she gasps out, because she can feel that edge just as well as you, "I want you to fill me, just cum inside, God, you always feel so amazing, fuck, like that, cum inside me, cum in me-"

"How could I say no, especially when you ask so sweetly," you tell her, kissing into her smile, "can you take another? Baby, look at me, look into my eyes, yeah? Look right back at me."

Her eyes blink and roll back a bit, almost losing focus and her eyelashes flutter - the creases in her brow, the elegant lines of her face locking up in the overwhelming tension, then, a peak.

And a demand, meekly asking you to fill her up. Until there's nothing left. "Cum," Hyewon moans, "for the love of fuck-"

You push her past her climax until she's practically weeping, sobbing through a litany of nonsense and slurred, unfinished sentences and almost howls, struggling beneath your weight and coaxing her fingers over the surge at the base of your spine. Before a hot liquid mess bursts out of you, into the deepest reach of Hyewon's throbbing cunt - cumming inside her, while you hold her down, not allowing her to move as your hips lock and you're both left groaning in utter agony.

(This was the thing you'd told her once - cumming inside her was almost always worth the effort it took to clean it all back out. You like the possessive aspect of it, maybe the slight humiliation, and more than anything, she'll just melt: once she's gone past the immediate discomfort. If anyone could really learn to get off on feeling a little filthy, it's the two of you. And she knows that too, Hyewon's eager little pout intimates, as she blinks down to watch where the two of you connect.)

You don't say much for the next while. If there's a line where this particular escapade blends back into your normal life, where the Hyewon curled up in the sheets is your own girl and not some half-conceived entity that didn't fit the reality of the rest of the evening, or how you see Hyewon everyday, even then, it’s not clear.

She's utterly boneless - this fragile, dazed thing that runs her palms all the way around her breasts and pulls up her stockings a little further up the line of her hips, as if you weren't going to peel them back and slip them all the way off when you had the wherewithal to handle it. But the strength in her isn't entirely lost either, she looks ready to burst: this air of pride and smugness - victory, right in her grin, which isn't totally surprising. Hyewon usually gets an odd satisfaction out of your participation in whatever hedonistic or obscene thing it is she wants to try.

This was her fantasy - maybe not a deeply rooted or unattainable one, but she'd worked out some kinks of hers and has walked away a far better woman for it, knowing what a sight she is to you. Like this.

"That was... fun," Hyewon eventually says, collecting articles of clothing strewn about the room.

Her shoes are one of two sets in the shoe-rack, but she'll have to look around and under the bed to find her dress. It would probably be some strange level of easy to play dumb and wait until she comes to the conclusion on her own that she should bend down and check down there, but she looks a little too worn out to really be interested in her clothes, more like, ready for the next part.

"We should do it again," her gaze lands, intent, and serious, back to you.

"Which part?" you have to ask, because you're probably still, a little slow on the uptake.

A small laugh, the sly smirk to herself; she knows she has you wrapped so perfectly around her finger, ready to bend to whatever game she can come up with: "whichever part you like."

#hyewon smut #izone smut #izone hyewon smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember

1K notes · View notes

nrdmssgs · 10 months

Text

Dom König scenario

Masterlist

Ok, we had him soft and obedient, how about his other side? Because you don't call someone the King, if they are just tender little angels. Smut under cut.

You were sure, it was you, who actually initiated this all: after months of silent yearning, back and forth dynamics, pinning and practically burning alive with desire you ended up in his hands, your lips pressed against his in desperate attempt to put an end to this slow torture in any possible way: be it with or without him.

He doesn't answer on your kiss, doesn't flinch or frown. Just sits there with a half smile and looks down on you, not breaking the eye contact for a single moment.

Little did you know, you were never in charge. Every interaction, every smallest chat, every stolen smile, lingering gaze - it was all orchestrated.

König loved the good old hunt, thrived on the outrageous hopelessness with which his prey, without realizing it, rushed towards him. Tinkered little traps, mislead, confused, threaded illusions of one-sided hunger to drive you to absolute desperation for him.

He may have always been the quiet one, but one needs not many words, when he can get anything with the slightest brush of fingers, or an 'occasional' eye contact (and of course he squinted and tilted his head slightly to one side, not because he knew what it does to you).

König gradually let you closer and closer. Tricked you into believing that you're the one who's so fearless to fall for him: a living weapon of mass destruction. An absolute menace, turning friendly and smiling around you.

Little did you know, poor thing, little did you know... Until the trap was shut.

His hands barely touch your waist as if he was protecting you from falling off his lap, he doesn't try to pull you closer. You understand, that it is the end of you: he didn't react to your touch, kept silent, his heart was still and calm.

Blush washes over your face. "I'm sorry, König. Oh fuck, this is embarrassing. I didn't mean to... No, I actually meant, but not that. Sorry, I better shut up and leave you be. I promise, this won't happen ever again."

Your babbling amuses him. No, he doesn't want to harm your feelings or bully you, he knows exactly, what is going to happen very soon, but he can't help but indulge in those last moments of your alleged freedom.

It's when you try to pull away, you feel his hands clasp around your waist. "Who said, I don't want this to happen again?" His voice is quiet, lower than usual. Like honey from the Tyrolean forests, it covers your mind with a thick golden veil of lust.

You can't think straight, can't believe your own ears, and yet you dare not resist when he pulls you closer, letting you touch his lips again. Another lingering kiss.

But this time his smile widens. "Nochmal*," he purrs and lets out a low chuckle, when he sees your puzzled expression.

Don't worry, he will make sure you have enough opportunities to learn every single phrase, he might want you to understand and use on your own. He won't translate anything to you though - showing is always better than telling!

So he lets you kiss him once more. "Nochmal". And again. "Nochmal". And again... Till his tongue lazily rolls past your lips.

He tastes you like the most precious drink. Sip after sip, until you lay beneath him, trembling of need.

"My little sunshine, bearing so much love for me... Was it hard to dream of my touch every other night? Did it hurt, when you clenched around your thin, fragile fingers, fantasizing, how good can I make you feel in comparison?" You can't tell if he is genuinely concerned or just loves to fluster you that much.

And don't you even think to look away for a moment, to take a break and collect your thoughts - he'll grab your face while kissing you only to make his point: eyes on him until he commands otherwise.

Yes, commands come too pretty quickly in your life. But how can he possibly resist, when you're so eager to do anything, he lets you doing?

"You may moan into my mouth, meine Süße*, I don't mind some music*" While his fingers are knuckle deep in you. And moan do you, his sweet obedient angel.

He doesn't rush anything and more than happy to please you with his fingers and tongue first couple of times. This may come off as pretty humble, but he in fact just waits, till you are desperate enough to beg him to fuck you properly.

Poor thing too desperate, flustered and overwhelmed... Of course, he would fuck you absolutely incoherent if you ask nicely. He has such a soft spot for your wet eyes, he'd make you go limp, your eyes rolling back, little whimpers leaving your lips with every thrust, as he holds your hips tightly picking up the pace. Fucking your fears and anxieties away. Making you feel high.

Lots of reassurance, praise and confessions. Constantly. Even in the most extreme moments. "Who are you, little sunshine?" "Your fucktoy." "...and?" "Your treasure..." "Gu-u-u-utes Mädchen*... and?" "Love of your life?" "Liebe meines Lebens*."

*Nochmal - once again *meine Süße - my sweet one *Gu-u-u-utes Mädchen - go-o-o-od girl *Liebe meines Lebens - love of my life

2K notes · View notes

yuri-is-online · 3 months

Note

"The moon is beautiful tonight" bro if someone said that to me I'd choke 💀. So here's a request ig. Octavinnle and scarabia saying this phrase in casual conversation causes like. it doesn't mean anything in twst, but yuu doesnt know that. So yuu just looks at them like

And suddenly they're being a hell of a lot more affectionate towards them specifically, which is really starting to fuck with their emotion at this point. Cause like. "I've thought of what we'd act like as a married couple a million times and you are acting exactly like that"

So now like, idk, 2 months later or something, the boys basically do a "reject me so I can move on. Or not, please not, actually"

And yuus like? We've been together for 2 months now? I thought we were taking it slow but not this slow??

He doesn't even fully remember what he said, or the context that brought it up. If someone were to offer him all the world's wealth and power he wouldn't be able to tell them what brought about this change.

If he did he might find it ironic that in your world there was a place and time where "I love you" could be translated into "the moon looks beautiful tonight." For what else could he have been trying to say?

I LOVE THIS TROPE I LOVE IT SO SO MUCH. UNREQUITED REQUITED ACCIDENTAL LOVE CONFESSION MY BELOVED. Anyway yeah sure I can do this easy. Also can someone tell me what "ig" means I am an elderly woman ☆ヽ(o_ _)o notes: they/them used for Yuu, angst with the intent of comfort, not all of them follow the flow of the prompt exactly sorry, idk if I like this one? I'm so sorry it took so long I loved this prompt but for some reason when I sat down to write it my brain fried. More fic can be found on my masterlist here.

Azul

What He Says:

You can't actually see the moon from Octavinelle, so how the conversation topic got around to it is quite lost on you. "You just don't really seem like an astrology h- person to me?" It is all you can do to bite back a different description as you try to pretend your focus is on the silverware you are rolling and not the ever so slightly disheveled octomer across the office. You treasure these times, though you have to wonder just how intentional they are. Azul always has an aura of manufactured perfection around him, so to see him with ink stained hands and a crooked tie... you wish you were quick enough to get a picture with something other than your mind's eye.

"I could say the same about you," he smiles as he speaks in a way you want to believe is affectionate "though I suppose it shouldn't, every planet large enough to host life will have a moon." Your fingers fidget with the napkins as you wonder where to take this talk, talking with Azul is a lot like a dance at a masquerade you haven't been invited to. One small slip and he has you at his mercy.

"I was surprised your moon looks so similar to mine." You try. "It was very comforting to know it still represents my deepest, truest self."

"Then it must look beautiful tonight." Azul says softly, as if he is more testing the words in his mind than he is saying them. But still you startle and drop the silverware and make him jump.

"I'm sorry?" You stumble over yourself to pick it up and see a worried Azul standing in front of you.

"I said the moon must look beautiful tonight." He says as he bends to help, so casually that he has to call out to you again to make you realize this isn't a dream.

"It is." You pull yourself up and stand closer to him than you have ever previously dared.

When He Breaks (Two Months Later):

Ramshackle Prefect: Morning Azul ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Azul stares at his phone as if he is unused to the words on his screen. His thumb hovers over the heart as if he could reach out and touch what sits on the other side and know.

You: Morning, a bit early for you isn't it?

Not that he is upset exactly, this is a lovely thing to wake up to. But it's torture, pure torture to lack the context for any of this. When you started messaging him in the morning he had been too pleased to think critically. His mind conjures up images of how sweet you could sound when half asleep, what it would be like to hear that wish from you every morning out loud instead of on a screen. He shakes his head trying to blink back the tears as he rises, these thoughts are like one of those mirages he'd heard Jamil describe before. If he looked too hard it would disappear and leave him with nothing but sand, and there is nothing a merfolk fears more than the absence of water.

Ramshackle Prefect: (｡•̀ᴗ-) Ramshackle Prefect: hehe im goin back to sleep now. Ramshackle Prefect: dont overwork urself. it's supposed to be the weekend!!!

"Supposed to be the weekend" he wants to die. His heart hammers away at his chest as reads and re-reads his messages searching for a sign of how or why he is getting these messages. It's a thankless task, he's done this every day for... it feels like years but he knows from his carefully kept notes it's only been two months one week and three days. And he does mean notes, so what if he's taken to keeping Yuu's file in his night stand it's still kept in a file which means it isn't a diary. Not that it would be a problem if he did-

Ramshackle Prefect: oh before I forget is it ok if I stop by the lounge later? I tried making a pudding and want to know if it tastes good Ramshackle Prefect: y'know to people who don't eat literal dirt

-so no he wasn't keeping a diary but maybe Jade is on to something and he should really start because he hears those are good for managing stress.

~~~~

"Not that I am unimpressed with your efforts," is what Azul says out loud with a great deal of effort "but is it just me or have you been trying to cook a lot more lately?" It had started with little sandwiches and maybe a salad on days he was still at work late into the night, dropped off with the claim that Yuu was worried he wasn't taking care of himself but they never actually stayed to watch him eat it. This was new, as if they were testing the waters of something from their position on his couch, face still puffy with sleep as they settle themselves deep into its puffy cushions and watch him at his desk. Maybe they were concerned he would not want a desert and intended to stay and make sure he didn't throw it out. That had to be it, but then why visit dressed so casually? He can count on one hand the times he has seen Yuu out of an NRC uniform, and none of those allowed him a glimpse of their actual preferences in clothing.

It's like they've forgotten who they are dealing with.

"Well yeah, it's a good skill to have." Yuu looks at him with a genuine unguarded smile. "Besides it's fun to get your opinions on my food, I don't always understand how you come up with them but I feel like it helps."

"My I didn't realize you held my advice in such high esteem." He feels much more like himself now with this information. Of course Yuu has been messaging him more, they need him for something. It might sting, but it's safe. Logical. Something he can work with. "Maybe I'll just have to start charging you, can't have you taking my secrets and stealing away my customers, can I."

But for some reason this just makes you laugh. "No need to worry about that, I only really cook for you. And Grim I guess but like I said, he literally eats dirt. I mean just the other day-

"What did you say?" Azul's voice sounds strained.

"About Grim eating dirt?" You say, and Azul finally for someone so smart and so proud on his ability to read people thinks that he might have made a mistake. "He says he's making a tier list."

"Why are you so painfully human?" His smile is strange, you can't say you have ever seen him like this before, it's a strange mix of happiness and resignation. "Your heart is so- prefect do you trust me?"

"Yes." You answer, seemingly confused as if your answer to that question shouldn't have been something he doubted.

"Would you trust me with your life? Your secrets?" He makes his way out from behind his desk to stand above you, to look down at you and confirm that for some damnable reason you are still calm. "Would you trust me with your life?"

"...only if you wanted it." Finally he sees a trace of fluster in you, finally you feel as nervous around him as he does around you constantly. He places a finger under your chin and forces you to look at him.

"Then tell me how you feel about me truthfully. Because everything you have said and done up to this point has been driving me crazy into thinking I have a chance." You blink. Once. Twice. And then a look of pure confusion distorts your perfect face.

"You- you don't know? But I thought- I mean you said-" And then suddenly Yuu has managed to jump out from the couch and the intensity of the moment stutters closer to comedy as Azul watches you curl under his desk like it's an octopot. "You said the moon was beautiful."

It's Azul's turn to blink. Once. Twice. He feels like he should be holding back tears, or disappointed in some way but- "I did say that... but what does that have to do with, anything?" You don't move and Azul considers his options, and decides to walk slowly to his desk and pick up the pudding before settling himself just out of sight from where you are hiding. And he waits, he waits for you to speak like his hands aren't clammy and he is not worried at all about what you might have to say.

"In my world when you say that it means something." You sound so small and alone, but still he waits. "I was really happy to hear you say it, but I didn't think... no I just didn't think. I'm so so so sorry."

"What did you think I said?" His mind is racing with the possibilities, but he has an idea because really what else could he have said that would explain all of this behavior?

"I don't wanna say it. It's embarrassing." You sound close to tears and Azul can't have that now can he? He crouches down to look at you curled under his desk and thinks that Floyd must have been wrong when he called you a shrimp, how could you be anything other than another octopus, waiting for someone who understood them too?

"As embarrassing as saying it again?" He doesn't wait for you to reply. "The moon looks beautiful tonight." He watches your breath hitch in delight as he fully invades your space and whispers what it looks like he should have just said all along. "I love you."

And gets to hear the one thing he has wanted most. "I love you too."

Jade

What He Says:

"And that is the Hero constellation." Jade makes sure to keep his hand as close to you as plausible, resting the back of it against yours as he uses his pencil to point at the star chart you are examining to avoid having to move it away from your addictive warmth. He delights in the way you try to suppress your shudders yet make no move to shake him off, what a dangerous game it is you have decided to play tonight. "Named after the Hero who dove into the underworld to fetch back his beloved from death itself."

"It looks familiar." You swallow and try to focus on the stars, Jade had been kind enough to offer you some "opinions" (because help would cost you and he has no intention to charge yet) when he saw you struggling to read your astrology homework. "But I don't think it was as important to astrology back in my world..."

"Oya? Your world also values the guidance of the stars?" Jade is always hard to read, but even more so in the dark. Something to do with his natural habitat you suppose, not that you are excited about the potential he sees you as some sort of prey. Not that you couldn't be if you knew just what sort.

"Well yeah sometimes. But I think it has more to do with the zodiac constellations and the position of the planets." You smile and hope this little bit of information is enough for Jade to take as payment instead of a favor but he simply hums.

"Yes I do seem to recall you saying something like that." He says with a smile and you desperately wrack your brain for how he could know that when you know damn well it wasn't to him.

You were only sort of right, he had been there, just out of sight listening intently as you described the differences in the mythological origins of the various signs and their importance in match making.

"Only in some cultures Ace!"

But you had made no mention of whether or not that culture was yours, which was all Jade really cared about. Not that he placed much interest or faith in the stars but if you did that was important data. But no matter how carefully he tried to poke the only thing you ever seemed to really like talking about was the moon. "The moon looks beautiful tonight." Jade says, bitterly, head full with ideas that he wants to give but cannot without overplaying his hand. And yet-

"Do you mean that?" He turns his head abruptly, blinking in confusion down at your flustered self. Jade knows right away that he has said something without meaning to, your reaction screams it but just this once- no he is always selfish when it comes to you. So in keeping with his habits, he drops the pencil and folds his hand around yours properly.

"Every word." It is all he can do to keep his teeth from showing as he watches you fold into him. Normally when Jade offers to walk you home you make up an excuse or outright decline, but when he offers tonight you are happy to accept. You even let him help you pick up your things and when he decides to push his luck and ask for your hand-

You let him take it. His brain is fried, the only thing he can think of and feel is the texture of your skin and the weight of your fingers intertwined with his. Neither of you speak on the way back to Ramshackle, Jade barely hears himself whispering you a goodnight as he swears you stare at his lips in the same way he always dreams of yours.

His mind works overtime as he walks back to his dorm, thinking and re-thinking his words and wondering if he has reached the right conclusion. Data, he needs more data on this change. You have let him get close to what he wants in moments of weakness before, but you have never let him touch and as much as he wants to throw himself into you and be consumed with his assumptions...

When He Breaks (3 months later):

He is long past collecting data at this point, he is just being a coward. Jade is fairly certain that Yuu is courting him... but that pesky doubt keeps creeping back in the longer he looks at them. Not that Jade is unfamiliar with doubting himself, or waiting to strike but you...

"Are you alright, Jade?" You're laid across his lap without a care in the world watching that damn moon again, completely unaware of him unraveling beneath you. "You've been spacing out a lot lately."

"I've just had a lot on my mind~" He caresses the side of your face and you let him, you even whine a bit when he retracts it and speed up his heart rate just enough to make him hyper conscious of his breaths. "Can I ask you something?"

"Technically you already have." You squirm to try and dodge his flick but don't seem too fussed by it. "But sure, what's bothering you?"

"Do you hate me?"

"What?" Oh that look of shock on your face is precious he hasn't seen it in a while. Slowly, giving you just enough space to run if you want Jade bends towards you, smiling wide and tootful as he repeats the question.

"I was wondering if you hate me dear Prefect. Because you see," he sniffles and tries to pretend he doesn't hear you groan in exasperation "our relationship these past few months has been nothing but pure torture for my poor self."

"Oh has it now." You don't sound like you believe him how tragic. "I didn't realize I was such bad company."

"Oh the worst sort." He whimpers. "The sort of company that takes advantage of the thin lines between you and does all sort of things to your poor heart."

"... thin lines?" Finally. FINNALY. You sound just as worried as he's been these past three months. He ceases his blubbering and looks at your embarrassed face properly. It's adorable, he'll have to ask for your forgiveness later for his lengthy pause admiring it later.

"Please be truthful." He whispers just a tad lower than is necessary. "And be gentle with me in your rejections so I can move on if I must but first-"

"We're not dating?!?!?" How rude you don't let him finish before you interrupt and try to run away. His long arms interrupt your retreat, pulling you down with peels of laughter (from him it's clear you don't find this funny) as he rolls you onto the grass, pinned directly beneath him. You look good like this, eyes focused entirely on him and no longer pining after the moon.

"There seems to have been a misunderstanding." He says and you try your best to glare threateningly up at him. "I can't quite remember anything I might have done to make you think we were together. Was it something I said?"

"You said... I'm so stupid."

"I don't seem to recall ever having said that outloud." You try to knee him in the groin but he pins your leg down with his own, such useful things though a tail would have made this entire confrontation much more efficient.

"Of course it doesn't mean the same thing. This is a different world." You look genuinely distraught, and though Jade doesn't regret his teasing one bit he doesn't want to keep you in suspense much longer. So he bends his face directly next to your ear and whispers.

"The moon looks beautiful tonight." Your breath hitches and Jade rolls to his side, pulling you up onto his chest before you can go back to being angry at him. "You're right, it doesn't mean whatever you think it should here. After all if I wanted to say how I feel about you I wouldn't use a metaphor."

"And just what would you say about me?" You sound so impossibly small, just as in need of reassurance as he had been just mere moments ago.

"I would say that I love you, of course." It's hard to say out loud, but worth the reward of your warmth settling into him once more, with clarity this time and no need for cowardice.

Floyd

What He Says:

Floyd has been in a strange mood lately, not quite bad, not quite good, and yet somehow very clearly not somewhere in between either. Reflective is the word you would choose yourself, but no one is really asking your opinion they just want you to fix it.

Not that you have any real clue how you are going to do that, you will be the first to admit you didn't have much of a plan when you asked if Floyd wanted to climb up to Ramshackle's roof and shoot the breeze. Not that you are really complaining it had been funny watching him try to figure out the climb.

"I though you were supposed to be good at this." You laugh from your perch waving a bag of flavored potato chips in encouragement as Floyd snorts just below you.

"I'm real good at parkour, just haven't really climbed trees before. I ain't a monkey fish." Still he manages to hoist himself up just fine and plop himself next to you with a thud that reminds you of just how much weight there is to him. He's tall and lean, his figure seems to go on forever as he stretches himself out next to you, eyes fluttering shut as he lets out a breath and holds out a hand for a chip.

You stuff it into his mouth and try not to laugh too hard when he chokes. He spits some of the chip shards back at you and tries not to smile too wide when you sputter and whine about how gross he is for spitting on you.

"Ya do this a lot back home?" It's not the first time Floyd has asked about your world, but it is certainly the most random.

"We've got stars in my world too." You snort, trying to think about just how you are going to turn this conversation around into something more cheerful. "But nah, pretty sure someone would have called the cops if they caught me on the roof at 2 am." Floyd rolls onto his side, propping himself up on his arm to really look at you as you look through your grocery bag of loot deciding which of the drinks you brought up you want to drink.

"I meant invite people to hang out real late." You stop your search to look down at him and find your words caught somewhere between your heart and your throat. Not like this. You want to say. Not for this reason. But instead you shrug and try to offer a bottle he doesn't take. You aren't avoiding the question tonight. "Ya gotta have done something for fun, right?"

"Sometimes I'd walk around a store or something." It's weird explaining stuff to a merman, sometimes they get what you're trying to say but other times they come back with "so it's like that time Jade and I got caught chasing a dolphin around the school playground and got yelled at for tying him up in seaweed" and you just have to smile and say "yeah totally" because what the hell. You're pretty sure it's not but you lack all sorts of context to try and make him understand. "Or we'd sneak out and just drive around and talk about stuff. There's- not a bunch of exciting things I know how to do I guess." If this was a normal night Floyd would roll his eyes and lie back down, whine about that's why you always make him do all the work because shrimpies have shit for brains and his plans are always so much better.

But he doesn't. He reaches over and tugs on your leg, gently enough that you can run away if you want but clear in his desire to have you closer. So you move, expecting his hand to drop but it doesn't, not until he settles his head in your lap and he physically can't keep it there anymore.

"Ya ever talk about things that matter with those guppies?" Maybe he's homesick and that's why he's so focused on this. "Things that make ya miss them?" Maybe he's just projecting that onto you since he knows you will listen and be nice about it. But then his hand reaches up and turns your head so you can look him in his eyes. They're glowing, you barely realize your own hand going to cup Floyd's cheek before he moves his other to keep it from going. "You ever miss one of em in particular?"

"Not really." How could you when Floyd looks like this? "It'd be nice to see my friends again, sure, but it's not like there's one specific person I miss." Floyd lets out a breath that it sounds like he has been keeping in for a long, long time. His hands both fall to his side as he lets you look away in embarrassment, wiggling in slight happiness when you choose to rest your hands on his shoulders.

"The moon looks beautiful tonight." Floyd's voice sounds sleepy and oddly content. Your eyes immediately snap back to him, but he isn't looking at you now. There is a a slight red tinge to his ears that makes you laugh quietly as you run a finger over the shell of one. So that's what this is about.

"It's always beautiful with you around Floyd." And finally he is looking at you with a smile.

When He Breaks (2 weeks later):

When you gave Floyd a guest key to Ramshackle he'd been extremely happy. Sure he'd acted like it was no big deal in front of you, beyond a few teasing comments about how buttering him up wouldn't get you anywhere unless you put it in writing. But back at his dorm he had been beyond insufferable, obsessing over just what color thread he should attach to it (purple for the sea witch, teal for the eel, or grey for ramshackle? decisions decisions), wanting to keep it close at all times until he had an excuse to replace it with you.

Because that's what he needed right? An excuse? Floyd wasn't exactly... shy in showering you with his affections but you. You. Until that stupid conversation on the roof a month ago you had always been sort of shy about it, if not outright dismissive. He assumed it was because you just didn't reciprocate but now...

"Floyd?" You can't really remember the last time he knocked, even before you gave him the key he sort of just let himself in. But today he knocked, only once and waited for you to open the door in eerie silence. Even when Floyd was coming over because he was bored he still managed to drag himself through the door or a window if he was so inclined.

So why not today?

"Not having a good day?" You try softly, he walks into your lounge with an eerie quiet about him. The last time you saw him something very nice happened, so you can't exactly say you are too worried but. It still sucks to see someone you care about in distress.

"Kinda." Floyd doesn't look like he had much of a plan now that he's in your dorm. "Had a lot on my mind is all."

"Aw that's no fun." You both stand doing nothing for what feels like an hour but you're sure is only a few seconds. "Do you uh want to talk about it?"

"..." And just like that Floyd feels really silly. He wanted to see you so that's why he came, but he wants to be as far away from these painful feelings as possible. "I kind of want to take a nap."

"Oh?" You don't sound surprised, but are clearly confused. Floyd begins to head towards the guest room without looking back. The guest room feels like you just enough that it can soothe his longing and distance himself from his internal conflict. "Would you like to use my room?" Or he could just not be allowed to distance himself at all because you could just say- "I've got some stuff to do but I can join you af-"

"Are you fucking serious." Floyd's voice is dangerously low and he is dangerously close to your face like you have said something wrong. "Look Shrimpy-" He swallows, like he's really considering what it is he has to say so he breathes and just goes for it "Yuu. You're killin me with this. Humans are already so fucking confusing. I give ya a shell and you get all cold for a week, and now, now you wanna sleep with me?" He pouts at you, like your suggestion had been scandalous. "'s like you think we're together or something."

"... we're not?" That's the only thing you can think to say even though the fact you have to say it answers the question for you.

"No?" Now Floyd sounds confused. "Ya- you can't do this to meeeeeeee." Despite his protests he seems just fine with grabbing onto you and dragging you into an embrace and resting his cheek on your head so you can't see his face anymore. "There's supposed to be a process to these things ya know? I'm supposed to give you gifts, and then you're supposed to give me some back and then I tell you I love you but every time I tried that I said something stupid instead. Like 'oh wow the moon looks beautiful tonight or some shit." He huffs and he puffs and he waits for you to say something. But you don't, you take a deep breath.

And laugh.

"Is this fucking funny to you?" Floyd is taken so a back he lets go of you only to find you laughing harder. You stand and reach to cup his face. Floyd doesn't like being squeezed, but there's something about the light squish you give to his cheeks that he likes, he likes a lot.

"No- well maybe a little bit. It's just, I knew. I knew what you were trying to say." Yuu says it like it is the most obvious thing in the world, like it's something Floyd should have known all along. "I owe you an apology, I should have asked, made sure you knew. In my world, it's sometimes considered too forward to say 'I love you' so instead..." You close the distance between you once more, leaving just enough room that Floyd can back away from you if he wants, "instead we say 'the moon looks beautiful tonight.'" Floyd takes in a deep, deep breath and you wait. The anger and frustration slowly fades as he exhales, shoulders sagging as he searches your face for signs.

"The moon looks beautiful tonight." He says it slowly, voice dipping low with the same strange gravity it had the first time he said it.

"It does, doesn't it?" You smile, and Floyd finally reaches for you, arms wrapped much more loosely than you ever thought possible.

"You're really mean sometimes ya know that." As if he doesn't find that attractive.

Kalim

What He Says:

Sometimes you worry about Kalim. He has this way of talking about things that, if it had been anyone else who said it, should be a major cause for concern. But because Kalim seems relatively happy most all of the time and has a family with a bunch of money no one really makes much of a fuss about it.

So when he says, off handedly, completely as a joke, that you should listen to his worries sometimes you don't give him a chance to play it off. You sit up from where you had been lying down in the Scarabia Lounge and move just a bit closer to where Kalim is relaxing so he can see how serious you are.

"Of course you can talk to me if you have worries." Your voice must have been abnormally serious because Kalim doesn't respond immediately. At first you wonder if the noise of the party behind you had somehow drowned out what you said but then you see Kalim's face. He looks conflicted, as if there is something he desperately wants to say, but instead he looks at you with a smile.

"I don't really have any." But he doesn't laugh when he says it, not that he sounds unhappy exactly just thoughtful. He doesn't move away from you either.

"Even if it's something you think might be silly," you say slowly forcing yourself to continue even as Kalim looks away "of if you're able to dismiss them. If something makes you sad for even a moment, you can tell me. I won't offer my opinion if that's not something you want, or won't help, I can still listen."

"You're really insistent about this huh?" Kalim sits up now too and you turn to look up at the stars decorating Scarabia's night sky. You wonder briefly about how exactly they might have gotten that to work when he says it. "The moon is beautiful tonight." He sounds so wistful but it's gone in a blink as he reaches for your hand and doesn't let you respond to his admission. "C'mon! Let's take the magic carpet and get a better look." You try to contain your excitement as he lets you lace your fingers together and doesn't even try to let go.

What He Breaks (1 week later):

Technically, Kalim isn't the one who breaks. He notices, of course he notices, the way you are more comfortable in seeking him out. How comfortable you now are with his casual touches, how willing you are to hold his hand and even give it a little squeeze. It's heaven, like he found the treasure cave the Sorcerer of the Sands had searched so long for. If it was up to him he would have let it go a little longer.

But it isn't exactly up to him, it never is. Not that Jamil looks angry exactly, but then again as Kalim has come to accept he's not the best at reading his moods.

"I thought you said you weren't going to ask Yuu out?" No Jamil sounds confused and Kalim fidgets with his bracelet under his questioning stare because he knows what he's about to say will probably actually make him mad.

"I didn't." Jamil takes a deep breath and Kalim immediately waves his hands to try and soothe him. "Promise! I remember everything you said about wanting to know and I agree it's just... are you sure you aren't misreading things? That Yuu isn't just... comfortable around me now?"

"... it's always a possibility given just how weird the prefect can be, but no. I'm pretty sure you must have said something that's given them the wrong impression." Jamil sighs and rubs his chin thoughtfully. "It's going to be awkward, but you should probably clear things up with them and tell them how you really feel."

"You mean tell them I'm not allowed to-"

"Like I said before," Jamil actually smiles now, and Kalim really hopes it's real "it's not my place to tell you who you can and cannot date. Sure your parents might have an idea about what they want you to do, but you and I know that a political marrige would never really work for you. It's just not how you're built." And with that he leaves Kalim to his thoughts.

~~~~

"Have you ever considered throwing smaller parties?"

"Haha this is a smaller party~ I only invited you and your freshmen friends." So Kalim says and so you see, but you suppose everything Kalim does comes from a rather skewed sense of small. It's nice to look out on though, Ace is amusing one of your other classmates with his card tricks while Jack and Deuce take turns at arm wrestling. Epel even manged to get Sebek to participate in something, though he might have regretted making it an eating contest. And above it all, tucked away in a little alcove, Kalim rests his head on your shoulder and hums along with the music playing through his dormitory loudspeakers. It feels domestic in a way despite the grandiose display around you.

"It's very nice Kalim." You lean your head on top of his and he sighs in contentment. "But you said there was a worry you wanted to tell me about?"

"Mhm. I'm worried I said something accidentally that made you realize that I liked you." If he wasn't holding you so intimately his words would have been like ice water over your self confidence. You still cringe and Kalim laughs slightly, happily holding you just a bit closer. "Hey I didn't say that I don't like you, I just want to make sure you understand what that means. I could put you in a lot of danger you know?"

"More than half a dozen overblots?" You lightly joke but Kalim just hugs you a little harder at the thought. "We'll cross those bridges when we come to them, it doesn't make me love you any less. After all," you press a gentle kiss to his forehead and smile as he shakes in happiness "the moon looks beautiful tonight." Kalim gives a little gasp.

"Oh that's a wonderful way to say it!"

Jamil

What He Says:

"I get that your world is a bit behind ours because it doesn't have magic, but really?" Jamil's voice lacks the usual venom that would accompany his teasing if he hadn't been the one to propose this idea. "Wanting to make a mix tape has got to make you practically per-historic." You try to suppress your own smile as you watch him work from across the floor.

"I prefer vintage." Your smile breaks free as Jamil finally laughs, you wonder if he knows just how beautiful he is as he swipes a misbehaving hair out of his eyes and gives his stereo another once over. "I'll have you know making mixtapes have a long and storied tradition in my world." You keep some of the possible implications to yourself, and try to pretend the concept hasn't been swirling around in you brain since he first suggested this. "Why aren't you using magic to clean it?"

"Because I get to keep you here longer." The words dance on the tip of his tongue and he forces them away with a smile.

"It's old, and I don't really want to go searching for a new one if I break something." The lie has just enough of a trace of truth to fool you, but Jamil isn't one for taking chances. "Aren't you supposed to be looking for stuff you like? You won't get that by staring at me."

"Not like I'm going to find anything till your done cleaning." You snort and finally take your distracting eyes away from him and direct them to his tapes. "I don't know any of this stuff." But you can still tell this collection is pretty impressive. Some of the tapes look newer, but there are others that while well cared for are clearly old. Album art featuring sandy landscapes and people posing is sandwiched between vaporwave cartoons and aesthetically confusing 3-d models. This belongs to Jamil so you have a feeling it's organized, but you can't tell how. Not that he leaves you wondering for long lightly taps your nose with a new cotton swab and nudges your pouting face towards a specific section of the box.

"Here, I set some aside based off the kind of music you said you liked." And some that just reminded him of you, but that's nothing you need to know, yet if ever. "Anything else you can think of?"

"Do you have any songs about the moon?" The question pops out of your mouth before the thought that birthed it is fully formed, making you stumble over your explanations. "Yeah go ahead and laugh there's just... this one song I miss." It makes you think of him, from the few words you can remember. You've written it down again and again to try and make sure you don't forget them, but the tune has begun escaping you; much like all your memories of home will one day be fragmented, not that the reality makes it hurt any less. "I'm worried I'll forget what my moon looks like." Jamil's amused confusion remains, but his eyes soften in response to your distress.

"Is there a specific reason you need the song? Yo- The moon is beautiful tonight, do you need the exact song to see it?" Jami

"N-no." Your voice shakes. Neither of you move to look away, what gives you the strength to move yourself to sit next to him you don't know. But he doesn't move away and you let out a deep breath from sheer and relief and joy. "I think I'll be able to see it just fine next to you."

What He Breaks (two months later):

Things have been going missing from Jamil's room lately. Nothing he actually needs really, the sort of little things you would take if you were really desperate to remember the feel of a person. The sort of things you would take if you were dating that person, which isn't at all the thought he would have had if he didn't know who was taking them. Not that Jamil could come up with a reason for Yuu to be taking these things, his first thought had been to take something of Yuu's the next time he visited Ramshackle, but that seemed to make you happy. "Fair game" he'd thought. "I want an excuse to see you and you want an excuse to see me."

Still he wasn't prepared for this.

"Jamil!" there is something refreshing about how calm your happiness is. You've always had a way of extending that calm to him, wrapping him in it and allowing him some space to breathe. But today, today. Today the Ramshackle Prefect has decided that he wasn't allowed peace, because yesterday they had stolen his sweatshirt, and today they have decided to wear it. "Everything ok?

"ha." Jamil wants to tug the hood of his dorm uniform over his head. He wants to run, he wants to shake you, he wants to scream. He wants to do a three act play complete with an interpretive dance because that would be easier than trying to speak. But he has to, because there's only so many deep breaths he can take before you reach out to make sure he's ok. So he takes your hand in his as you do and places it directly over his heart. "You know," for some reason he finds it easier to smile now that you know how nervous he is "you can't have taken that without knowing what people might say."

"Oh I don't know." You smile and bring yourself into his space, that strange calm he finds in your happiness begins to weave itself around him again. "Maybe I wanted to clear some things up. Make it good and clear where I belong." Jamil takes another deep breath, your arms go around him and he makes sure to look long and good into your eyes to make sure there isn't a shred of a crimson glow. That this is something you have decided of your own free will and not a dream or an accident involving magic.

"I never properly asked you out..." Technically he never asked you out at all, but Jamil would rather die than say that out loud. Maybe sometime long long in the future when he's ready to laugh at it and not now when he needs you to confirm that's what you thought he did in the first place.

"Oh! That's not-" You bury your face in his chest with a light laugh and he tries not to die in the time between the seconds until you respond. "I was so happy to hear you say the moon line it didn't really occur to me you might be worried about that."

"Who wouldn't?" Not that he's worried now, every other possibility has been ruled out so he can say exactly what he's been wanting to for so long. "Will you be mine?"

"I already was." It sounds so much better outloud than he could have ever dreamed.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader #“Or not please not actually” did something to my brain #such a nice way of phrasing that ur mind

698 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

seronefada

Looks like wings

slurring-words

graceful, ugly words

myscarythots

my scary thots

mihau-travel-exp

mihau_travel_exp

niema-dyskusja

new-wo-men