the unexposed

  • this boy would love you with all of his entire heart
  • he would message you every single day to check up on you and make sure that you are okay
  • and then when he’s away on tour he would constantly send you little videos of everything that’s happening
  • i mean you’re gonna know when hyunwoo is going for a shit and when kihyun’s voice breaks in rehearsals because it’s the funniest thing ever
  • has adorable pet names for you like ‘princess’ and 'baby’
  • also calls you silly, over-the-top ones like 'seashell’ and 'sugarplum’ to make you laugh
  • honestly his life goal would be to make you laugh every single day
  • feels so sorry that he can’t be around as much as he’d like but you’re so understanding because you know it has always been his dream to be an idol
  • and seeing him work so hard makes you understand just how much he wants it
  • sometimes you make him watch no mercy back just so that you can make fun of the fact he managed to unexpose™ himself
  • forcing him to eat and take days off from the gym so that he can recover
  • and telling him that you love him just as much without abs because it makes his tummy more comfortable for cuddles
  • he is the cuddle master
  • will cuddle you whenever
  • lying on the sofa? cuddles
  • standing in line at the supermarket? cuddles
  • you surprise him at practise? cuddles
  • his arms are constantly around you waist or shoulders and his fingers are always entwined with yours
  • will always ask you to stay over even though he shares a room with three other boys
  • and always does a cute lil pout when you say no
  • then will always offer to stay rounds yours instead but you gotta tell him no because the boys need him more than you do
  • doesn’t give two shits about pda around the boys though
  • will kiss you, hug you, grab your ass in front of them
  • mostly because you’re always barging into practises and into the dorm to feed them
  • he always wants to do spontaneous things like go to the park at 2am or hire bikes and cycle along the han river when you’re in the middle of doing laundry
  • i bet he actually gives the best massages ever
  • when he sees that you’re stressed he’ll slowly knead your shoulders and relax all of the knots in the muscles
  • the most caring ever™
  • will also send you dirty messages at the most inappropriate times
  • like when you’re out for lunch with your parents or babysitting
  • mostly does it when he’s on tour because he knows you can’t just go round and see him to relieve the horniness that he has created
  • speaking of horny wonho…
  • this boy would be an absolute god in bed because come on, it’s wonhoe
  • can be very soft and gentle because he loves and cherishes you with all of his heart
  • but will also fuck you backstage on a dressing table whilst making you beg to cum because he’s an utter dick
  • like before he goes away on tour, the two of you have really loving, sweet 'going away on tour and not going to see each other for a moth’ sex
  • but when he gets back… boooooooy you’ve got lost time to make up for
  • counter sex
  • wall sex
  • floor sex
  • sofa sex
  • all the sex
  • and then so much love and aftercare
  • never wants to hurt you and will always ask if you’re okay and enjoying yourself
  • also loves it when you take control and tease the fuck outta him… literally
  • you’re never afraid to express your emotions around him and vice versa because you have so much trust and love for each other it’s unreal
  • sometimes he just sits and cries while you hold him because it all gets too much for him
  • and he’d do exactly the same for you in a heartbeat
  • fighting is rare but when it happens, it happens because it will be over something important
  • normally if either of you get annoyed you’ll go away and cool off
  • but if something serious happens then there will be shouting… a lot of it
  • but i don’t feel like fighting could ever last long because the two of you hate spending time apart
  • and then you’d talk it all out between you and even if it wasn’t fully resolved, you’d go back to normal as best as possible
  • the best part right now, okay?
  • kissing shin hoseok would be the best thing to ever happen to you
  • honestly
  • the best
  • he has the bestest, softest lips on any human ever and I also bet that he’s an amazing kisser
  • will tease you lots by pulling away just before you lips touch
  • but will move softly and slowly, just the way you love it
  • his hands will be in your hair, or on your waist pulling you towards him
  • that boy’s tongue knows exactly what it’s doing I’m telling you
  • and when it gets more heated, don’t be surprised when he pulls you on top of him or pushes you against a wall
  • he will always take silly candid pictures of you doing normal mundane things
  • like drinking coffee and making the bed
  • and then when he’s lying in the dorm in bed or on tour he’ll look through all the photos and get all happy and nostalgic
  • but he doesn’t know that you do exactly the same thing
  • honestly, couple-everything
  • i know it’s cheesy but he loves it
  • the two of you have couple t-shirts and rings and mugs and necklaces and phone cases and blankets and phone wallpapers
  • and sometimes you accidentally turn up to a date wearing similar outfits and you both just die of giggles
  • like once you both wore literally the same ripped jeans, a plain white t-shirt and trainers for a coffee date and you’ve never gotten over it
  • but if you send him a picture in the morning of you wearing your couple t-shirt, he’ll immediately swap whatever he’s wearing and put on his too, even if you aren’t going to see each other
  • Introducing you to him mum would be such a big thing for the both of you because he adores her so much
  • he would take you to her café after it has closed and the three of you would sit down and talk for hours
  • and she’d tell you loads of funny embarrassing stories while he sits and whines about it
  • and you can just tell that she’s so incredibly proud by everything that he’s achieved
  • and loves him with all of her heart
  • and you can’t help but feel the same
  • when it gets late he’ll take her home, whether it’s walking her or driving/getting a taxi
  • and when he drops you home after he’ll burst with happiness after you tell him how much you love him mum
  • and then he’ll tell you that she loved you too
  • my heart has officially stopped beating now
  • but okay just imagine hoseok as you’re boyfriend he would be the most caring, loving person ever
  • whoever gets to marry him is literally the luckiest person in the entire world tbh
The Literature Incident

Jason prided himself in being a man of great literary tastes.

Therefore, this had to be done.

“What the hell are you doing, Todd?”

Jason hesitated for a mere second before continuing to pull books from Damian’s personal bookshelves. “Doing what needs to be done. Look at this!” he cried dramatically, but with a hint of anger. “Aristotle? Plato?!”

Damian’s brows furrowed into a pout and he walked further into his room. “What is wrong with Plato and Aristotle? They were both respected and brilliant philosophers-,”

“In ancient Greece!” the older brother turned and almost slammed the thick volumes on the table behind him before whirling around and resuming his job, almost hellbent now. “No modern literature!”

“Well, I don’t generally find the concept of dystopian futures and ridiculous love triangles to be very appealing, Todd, so no-,”

“You haven’t even gotten any Romantics!” Jason threw his hands in the air, sounding offended. “How on earth do you not have any Romantics?!”

Damian’s frown deepened and he stepped closer, picking up one of the discarded books and running his hand over the cover. “I read Frankenstein, Todd, and honestly, why is it that much of a concern to you-,”

Frankenstein is Gothic you brat.” The man snapped, throwing more books onto the table in exasperation. His expression turned sour when he returned to the shelves before him, hand skimming down three whole rows with a scowl. “Shakespeare. More Shakespeare.”

“I will have you know, Todd, that William Shakespeare was a brilliant author and you have no right to disrespect him in such a manner!” the 13-year-old barely caught the 2 special edition sonnet books that Jason tossed backward before they flew across the room. “He is-,”

“And, oh look! More Shakespeare!” Jason interrupted again, earning a grumpy huff from his younger sibling.

“I like the wordsmith.” Damian rolled his eyes and gently, almost lovingly, placed the thin novels on the table with the others. He looked up to find Jason grabbing several more volumes into his arms and looking over the next few rows.

“Read some goddamn Thoreau, you literary piece of shit.” He snapped, eyebrows furrowing in disgust. “Better yet, Hemingway. Anthony Burgess, that’s some weird shit. You’d probably like that.”

The boy sighed, stomping up next to his older brother and placing his arms outstretched. “Give me back my Shakespeare, Todd.”

“Are these History books?!” Jason asked, voice going up an octave in disbelief.

“Yes, I-,”

“You read these for leisure?!” He sounded on the verge of a breakdown.

Damian crossed his arms. “Mother has always taught me to know the valuable knowledge of this world, and that includes their history.”

Jason slowly turned his head towards his little brother, eyes narrowed in anger. He growled; He would not have his little brother so unexposed to good literature! Talia had brainwashed him with all this non-fiction stuff, he needed some good fantasy! “Your mother is a monster!”

Damian rolled his eyes again. “I do believe that has been greatly accepted in this family, Todd, but this is the first time I am hearing it being used to insult my knowledge of “modern” literature.”

“You have 5 copies of Dracula?!” Jason slammed the Shakespeare novels on Damian’s bed and shuffled through the books with vigor. Suddenly, he drew away and cast a glance to his little brother. “You’ve read Jane Eyre?”

His green eyes became unamused. “Once. Never again.”

The Great Gatsby, The Odyssey, the Tale of Two Cities, Sherlock Holmes, Charles Dickens, The Art of War?!” Jason scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. “All of these classics!”

“I thought you liked classical literature, Todd,” Damian said pointedly. “Father told me that when you were a child you greatly enjoyed the times when he or Pennyworth would read them to you. Why are you so upset about me having them?”

“I am not upset that you have them, Short Stop.” He hissed. “I am upset that you have them and not other books!”

“What other books, Todd?”

Jason was appalled. He knew that Damian had been raised with a bit of a traditional childhood, but he didn’t know that it was this severe.

Gesturing to the bookshelves, he almost shouted, “Harry Potter! Percy Jackson! Some Narnia maybe?”

“Narnia is not a modern series, Todd,” Damian added with another eye roll. “It was written by C. S. Lewis in the 1940’s and was-,”

“More modern than these!” Jason interrupted. His eyes raked over the last few books in Damian’s collection and his heart puttered to a stop. Realization hit him and he turned, ever so slowly, almost without breathing, and whispered. “Tolkien.”

The newly teen raised an eyebrow. “What?”


“Are those the books that you were so enthusiastic about as a child-,”


“I do believe that you are overreacting, Todd. They’re merely books.”

Jason froze, completely, arms outstretched in anger and eyes wide.

Merely books.

Merely books?

How dare he.

“We’re going to the bookstore,” Jason stated, grabbing Damian’s hand and dragging him towards the door. “We are going to fix this atrocious disaster and then I am going to piss on your mother’s grave. Come on.”

“Todd-what- let go of me!”


“Todd, unhand me this instant!”


Damian will never admit it, but later that night, when he is seated in front of Todd, cross-legged and quiet as Jason reads The Fellowship of the Ring to him, using all different types of accent for the many different characters, he hasn’t been happier all week.


Whore4batfam posted a little thing a while ago about Jason sorting through Damian’s books and I just couldn’t help myself. They’re idea, my little ficlet thing!

[08] Run


Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six // Part Seven // Part Eight

Warnings: fluff, smut, thigh riding, slight choking

When you and Yoongi got home it seemed that the boys had gone out, leaving a note on the coffee table that read:

We went out for drinks with Jaebum and the boys, and if you two are going to have sex please do it in Yoongi’s room not in places we usually are. Thanks. - Jin

“Wow, settle.” Yoongi chuckled, rolling his eyes and tossing the paper back onto the coffee table. He tried his best to seem unphased by the small paper but the way you whimpered his name earlier crept back into his mind and he fought the tint of pink that began to creep onto his face. He watched as you tossed your flannel onto the couch, admiring the way your hair framed your face, he admired your newly exposed skin, it wasn’t that he was being wierd and admiring your arms and shoulders…it was just you in every aspect was beautiful. Every single exposed and unexposed part of you was beautiful. “Yoongz, do you trust me?” A hint of mystery floated through your words, and the small smile plastering across your face was not helping his curiosity as to why you asked such a question. “I mean, yeah? I guess?” He wasn’t exactly positive as to how to answer such a random question, but you left no time for him to question himself. You grabbed his hand and led him up two flights of stairs and into you and Hoseok’s shared bathroom.

“Grab the rolling chair from my desk and sit. No questions asked.” While the confused mint haired boy listened to your comands, tossing his denim jacket to the side in the process, you pulled out a clear tub from underneath your sink. He plopped into the chair and watched as you mixed some bleach powder and developer into a bowl knowing exactly what process was about to take place. “Sorry Yoongz, but the mint is fading so much, and I think you’d look nice with blonde hair.” He just chuckled and pulled out his phone while you began applying the bleach to his hair, Yoongi wasn’t one to care much about big changes or bold decisions or at least he didnt act like it, so as you applied bleach to his faded out hair he sat scrolling through his phone. “I literally hate this process.” He groaned as you put a shower cap over his bleach covered hair, you rubbed his shoulders softly in an apology for the very itchy and uncomfortable process of color stripping, and hopfully a light bleaching would do the trick. The hair transformation lasted a good hour and half, full of laughs and loud screeches from Yoongi, ‘Y/n!! YOU’RE GETTING WATER EVERYWHE- AH THATS MY SHIRT YOU DICK.’ He ended up getting his revenge by shaking his head like a dog, and now he sat with dampened blonde hair and soaked shirt.

“I’m too lazy to dry it again so we’re just gunna let it air dry,” You huffed, ruffeling his wet hair.

“Lets go stay up late and write grandpa.”

He followed you to his room, he watched your messy ponytail swing side to side through his matted down damp hair. Another night alone in his room, two passionate souls speaking of passionate things in a room that held a kiss earlier that day, only this time as you climbed up onto his bed you patted the empty space next to you as an invitation for the nights long hours. He sat with his back against the headboard as he watched you change your position to where you were sitting criss cross apple sauce against the wall next to his headboard. “Okay so I’ve been pondering on this one idea, so please bare with me,” He studied how your nimble fingers flipped through your worn down journal until you found the marked up desired page.

“Dream, I will be there for your creation. Until the end of your life. Dream, wherever you might be. It will be lenient. Dream, you will fully bloom. After all the hardships. Dream, your beginnings will seem humble, So prosperous will your future be.”

Yoongi nodded his head ever so softly as you spoke out your notebook lyrics, he analyzed them in his head as you spoke, conjuring your lyrics into a beat so astounding yet not surprising. He sent your lyrics through a test of rhythm, should they be sung by your pretty little voice or rapped by a God, and when you closed your journal and watched the wheels turn in his head, awaiting his reply you couldnt help but smile at his passion. You watched as Yoongi sat up slightly and began rapping what you assumed to be the next part in what would be a beautiful masterpiece. “Right, I’m living because I can’t die
But I don’t have anything I want to do
I’m in so much pain and lonliness but people around me
Keep telling me to regain my consciousness
I try to vent my anger but I only got myself
So what’s the point of venting my anger
I’m scared to open my eyes everyday and start breathing

“You never fail to impress me, Min Yoongi.” Your voice was small, to distracted by your thoughts to focus on words and to embarrassed by your thoughts to make eye contact at the now blonde boy sitting inches away from you, and you didnt have to see him to know he was doing his infamous smug ass shug. You quickly jotted down his fast spoken words and smiled in content when the last word was documented in the old tattered book.

“You’re pretty confident for a insecure guy.” He smiled softly and replied simply. “And you’re pretty fearless for a scared girl.” You returned the soft smile and reached for his pale hand and held it tightly. “I’m scared of failing, or trying and not succeeding… but I’m fearless in taking risks and going for the gold, you shouldn’t fear the task but its normal to fear the outcome.” Yoongi traced his thumb softly across yours and explained himself as you had done for yourself. “I dont know, I’m not exactly confident about parts of myself and growing up and not knowing myself made me insecure… but i’m confident in my writing, in my skill, in my leadership skills.” His voice didnt waver, didnt crack. There was no sign of meloncahloy or hurt, it was simply factual statments spoken from an unphased man, his mindless actions causing your heart to flutter. “What arn’t you confident of?” The silences between questions and answers were no where near awkward, it was just small pauses in time, watching his hair air dry as the conversation got older and older. His blonde hair now slightly wavy, and his bare face so pretty while his side profile was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen, sharp jawline and perfect features upon an inviting neck connected to a desirable and beautiful masterpiece that was Min Yoongi. You knew it was only the first date, but love has no set times, no set occassions and the way he looked tonight, you wanted it to make it your mission to make him confident in all the places he wasnt.

“I used to be a bit chubby,” a small chuckle escaped his lips like thinking back to that time made him remember adorable memories. “I dieted, and I mean I wont lie being next to the maknae sometimes makes me feel less than, so I guess i’m not confident in my stomach or thighs but I’m not super insecure about it, just not confident.” You took in his breathy chuckle and pouty lips as he spoke, you’d seen him naked before but it wasnt a time you actually paid attention. His thighs weren’t muscular like Jungkook or Jimin’s but they were perfect, and you knew he didnt have abs but his stomach was flat and cute, so perfect but as he spoke of these insecurities and as you looked at his etheral features, something inside you clicked.

You straddled him without a second thought, taking his face in both your hands and pressing your light pink lips agaisnt his pretty pouty ones, his hands instantly grabbing your hips firmly. He took over shortly after your lips met, immediately asking permission to explore and by god you couldn’t deny. He swiped his tongue along your bottom lip and before he could plan his next move you took his bottom lip between your teeth, opening your eyes to him looking directly into yours, slowly you lowered yourself to be forehead to forehead with your Daegu Prince. His lidded eyes staring into yours, while his hot breath hit your lips and you hoped he felt yours too, you rolled your hips agaisnt his, bringing his cock to life under you. “Fuck.” He groaned pressing you down further agaisnt him, you had a plan and all you needed him to do was slip your pants down your legs, and by the way his lips latched onto your neck while you slightly grinded agaisnt him told you it wouldn’t be long until he needed to have you shed clothing.

Yoongi sucked at nibbled at your exposed flesh as he felt you roll your hips so gracefully, even during sinful deeds your actions were heavenly. Small, barley audible moans left your pretty, swollen lips as Yoongi met his hips up to yours, until finally he swiftly brought you down agaisnt the bed, hands fumbling for the hem of your jeans and expertly sliding off the now pointless garment.

You felt a soft breeze against your now exposed legs, quickly pulling Yoongi’s face to yours you kissed his intoxicating lips again because you just couldn’t seem to get enough. “Yoongi sit up.” Your low and sweet voice sent chills down his spine, he obeyed your command and watched while you slipped your baby blue panties down your glorious legs. You weren’t trying to tease, and he knew that; mesmerized by your astounding beauty he gulped in the presence of his goddess. There was no words that needed to be spoken, love and need filling the air in a mixture of innocence and sin swirling around the four walls yall sat in, you never once took your eyes off his pretty, pale face and flushed cheeks and lightly damp blonde hair. He looks so handsome. You ‘casually’ straddled one of his thighs and left soft butterfly kisses from the corner of his mouth, across his jawline and right underneath his ear, you kissed over his pierced ear and smiled as his hands ran down your still covered torso.

“Maybe I can make you confident about your thighs.” Your soft whisper sending something between a moan and growl to leave Yoongi’s glistening, swollen lips while his grip on your hips tightened. Your soft kisses soon turned sloppy and feverish against your canvas that was his neck, painting beautiful purple marks of love upon the inviting skin. You worked yourself up and down his jean covered thigh, the rough material creating a delicious amount of friction agaisnt your clit. He watched your body move like a clip stuck on repeat, listening to the dirty yet oh so pretty sounds leaving your mouth like it was the best song he’d ever heard. You ran your fingers through his hair as you continued to ride his perfect thigh, sending soft curses into the air without any want to hold back because you wanted Yoongi to know that his thighs were more then satisfying.

“Faster baby.” Baby. How you’ve been waiting to here that name fall from his lips since the night in the train car, and as he breathed the compand he flexed his thigh making sending you into a state of bliss. “F-fuck, Yoongi your thigh feels so good.” You whimpered, already staining his jeans with your pleasure, his hands guiding your body because even during this he had some sort of control and you were one hundred percent okay with that. You saw his erect cock straining against his jeans and as much you wanted to pleasure him, you needed him to know how perfect he was in the places he wasn’t confident in.

His flushed cheeks and hooded eyes sent a wave of electricity through your body, he was a true prince and dear god you prayed to be his princess. He noticed your stutter in movements, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear his flexed again getting a loud moan to erupt from deep within. “You look so beautiful, I could write a song about this moment alone.” His praise sent a familiar tightening feeling in your stomach, you were so close and you needed him to know. “Y-yoongi, i’m close -fuck- your thighs are perfect, yes dont stop baby please.” The mix of pleading and praise sent a devious smirk to appear on his face while his eyes thanked you for the sweet and caring gesture. He continued to flex his thigh and press you down harder against him, pressing his lips against your collarbone, whispering soft prasies against your glistening skin causing your walls to clench around nothing and for you to come undone. You rode out your high, whispering barley audible 'I love you’s’ and 'you’re so perfect.’ You couldnt hold back your thoughts, his name, the praise, the 'I love you’s’ rolled off your tongue like it was your duty to speak nothing but just that. “Good girl, you sound so pretty moaning for me.” Feeling the heat reach your cheeks you kissed him softly to hide it, while his words were sweet his voice dripped of want and need sending you into a never ending spiral of desire.

Changing positions and straddling him completely you kissed his nose then his irresistible lips. “I could write a song about you too ya know, the way your lips look after kissing me… the way your pink tinted cheeks look against a pale pallet of complete beauty.”

“Pale pallet of complete beauty?” He chuckled rolling his eyes at the horribly cheesy line that he in fact that was cute.

“The words of a writer Min Yoongi, get over it.”

Oh but he would never get over it, he never wanted to. He would be totally content with hearing your cheesy lines and sweet gestures everyday, Yoongi took in your glistening skin, exposed thighs and so much more, he took in how you smelt of apples and sweat but in the best way. He tried not to look too much scared that it’d break his careless attitude, break his silent caring state so instead he pressed his lips below gour ear and began to create a memory in your skin, one that one day wash away from your neck but not your soul. “You looked so pretty riding my thigh,” his sinister whisper rang throughout your body his left hand running up your exposed thigh and onto your ass, your hot skin feeling like fire underneath his hand. “I just know you’d look beautiful moaning underneath me.” The statment elicited a moan to break free, the low raspy sound of his voice sent goosebumps across your dampened skin. He squeezed your ass softly before he ran his hand back down your thigh, his soothing touch sending waves of electricity through your body.

“I want to savor this moment Y/n,” he placed a chaste kiss on your cheek and down your jaw. “I want to feel every part of you.” His fingertips traced down shoulder, your side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in the process until he traced the inner of your thigh. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispered so quietly that not even he was sure he said it.

“You have every part of me for as long as you want.”

“I think I might want you forever.” His breath was ghosting over your mouth as he stuttered out the confession, and as of what exactly he meant by forever was a mystery to the two of you, I guess love just makes you irrational and impulsive because here you were, half naked and kissing on the first date. But that was thing… it didnt feel like the first date, wrapped up in every word you spoke to each other, every movement and every moment going by so smoothly because loving him didnt scare you, but by god loving you scared him. Scared to love freely and openly, but not scared of you.

“I think I might want you too.” Replies so simple for confessions so extreme, but as he smiled and squeezed your thigh, you knew he was happy with your answer.

It wasn’t a forever that put pressure on you, it was simply a confession that you knew confused Yoongi, the forever sounded promising and with the rate this first date was going you hoped maybe a forever is just what you needed with him. You looked at his eyes and there it was… the whole. Fucking. Galaxy. You reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head in a a swift motion,leaving you in only your black strapless bra; he groaned in frusterstion at looked at you with dark eyes and slightly opened mouth. “You are so fucking sexy.” His voice low and raspy, immediately he began placing hot open mouth kisses over the swell of your breasts in a hungry like fashion. Your mind was clouded by the feeling of his lips and the swirl of his tounge making marks all over your newly exposed skin, soft sighs of pleasure leaving your lips as you watched him kiss and suck.

“Fuck this.” He growled, unclasping your bra skillfully. He wasted no time in touching you, taking one breast in his hand and pinching your hard nipple while taking your other in his mouth where he ran his tongue so soft, so teasingly, sucking every so often earning a loud moan to leave your lips. He grabbed your hips and laid you forward, his still clothed body hovering over your exposed one, his face soon buried in between your boobs, leaving small purple bites in the valley of your breasts then licking over it.


Your soft whimper switched something inside Yoongi, as he looked at you with hungry eyes and a devious smirk, all signs of soft Yoongi gone and boy did that look excite you. “Yes baby, moan for me. Whimper for me, let me hear you.” He pressed his lips to yours feverishly as one hand remained gripping your hip while the other made its way down your stomach. His tongue doing wonders in your mouth as he swiped a finger up your folds, coating it in your arousal. “You’re so wet for me.” He cooed, breaking free from the kiss to lick off the remnants of your pleasure off his finger then slamming his lips back to yours causing you to taste the sweet remains of yourself on his lips and tongue. You hastily pulled his shirt up over his head, tossing it to the floor with the rest of the discarded clothes. Running your fingertips along his chest and down his stomach, running a single finger down his happy trail. “And your so hard for me.” Your hand palming his painfully hard dick over his jeans, he thrusted himself into your hand a loud moan escape his swollen lips from the new attention his cock was getting. He looked down at you with hooded eyes and furrowed brows as you continued to rub him never breaking eye contact (which seemed to drive him mad) At an agonizingly slow pace you unzipped and unbuttoned his jeans, sliding them down his perfect milky thighs letting him do the rest. He was left in his light gray boxers, you saw the stain of precum and you smiled knowing the effect you had on him.
You softly placed your hand on his chest to sit him down once more, as you pulled down his boxers and ran your hands down his thighs to his balls. You massaged his balls  with your hand, as you listened to his soft sighs and gulps, his hands gripping the sheets, you halted your movements for a moment waiting for him to look down at you, his eyes met yours and as you stared deep into his eyes you ran your finger over his angry, pink tip, spreading his precum and boy did that trigger something inside that blonde haired beauty. Within seconds he had your hands pinned down over your head and his face buried in your neck, you felt his hot breath hit your bruises and it felt so good and so heavenly. “Kiss my lips pabo.” He looked at you with his adorable gummy smile before pressing his lips to yours, his lips being your new favorite flavor, you felt his hard member pressed against your inner thigh sending a soft moan of want to leave your lips which he quickly swallowed whole.
One hand held your two wrists together as the other made its way down your side and down your thigh, sending euphoria to fill your lungs. Oxygen suddenly seeming useless if you didnt have him filling your body with the euphoria his touch provided.

His hand grazed over your heat as he grabbed his cock, running it down your folds in teasing manner causing you squirm in anticpation underneth him. “Yoongi!” You didnt care if you sounded needy because you were, you needed him, you wanted him now. His chuckle filled your ears as he lined himself up with your entrance wanting nothing more then to feel you around him, before you could even blink he slid himself into you sending both of you to moan in much awaited pleasure.
He let go of your wrists to put one hand on your waist and the other to hold himself up, his face inches from yours soaking up all your beauty and the way your skin glistened with a small coat of sweat that could only be seen in certain light. He snapped his hips into yours causing him to swallow the following moan as he kissed you as passionately as he fucked you. He pulled himself out only to slam back into you, rolling his hips hard but slow, creating such a passionate pace and in that moment you were his rap song. You were the piece of art he worked on, passionately and wonderfully. Running your hands down his back to feel every curve, dip, every inch becoming a permanent memory in your mind, you grabbed his perfect ass and squeezed sending a very noticable red tint to hit his cheeks as he looked into your eyes, pounding into you slowly not breaking eye contact just as you had done before. Breathe ghosting over each others lips, allowing every moan to escape like it was a prize for the other.
The hand that was previously on your hip traced its way up  your stomach and breasts and up to your neck sending shivers down your spine. Whimpering his name for what felt like the hundredth time that night he slammed into you harder, as if with ever snap of his hips he was telling you he loved you, his passion came in ways so much more then 'I love you’s’ and you loved it. He pressed his thumb and index finger down in just the right place to send your brain into a daze, closing your eyes in pure ecstasy you smiled while his hand remained on your throat until he finally let go and kissed your nose for being such a good girl. “Moan my name baby.” His voice lacked dominance, it was more of a plead then a demand but you didnt need to be told twice to show him how expertly skilled he was in pleasing you. You chanted his name in a whiny manner that sent a deep groan to leave his lips. He lifted your leg over his shoulder to get a new angle, hitting your g spot with every passionate, slow, and deep thrust, the familiar feeling boiling in the pit of your stomach, digging your fingers into his shoulders as you began kissing his collarbones and adams apple, moaning into his damp skin.  The slapping of skin filling the room along with mewls and growls made everything hotter, his matted down freshly bleached hair and your slightly smudged makeup from dinner eaflier that night. “Y-Y/n, look at me. I want to see you when you cum. Let me see your face when you come undone.” Kissing his adams apple one last time, he pressed his forehead to yours, breathing heavily against your lips, you closed your eyes tightly as you clenched around him sending a loud moan to leave his lips that you withiut hesitation kissed away. “I’m close Yoongi.” He quickly found his way to your clit as he began to rub your sensitve bud to help you find your release, you were falling,  seeing stars and feeling nothing but ecstasy.
He watched your eyes flutter shut as you clentched around him once again and let go completely, moaning his name like it was normal for you to do so, and seeing you come undone sent him over the edge, releasing his hot, white pleasure deep within you, moaning your name loud and proud because this time it was actually you; the two of you rode out your highs. Heavy breaths and lips barley touching, drinking in each others states, not kissing or fucking, just breathing and sweaty. The room was silent, except for your heavy breathing and the words the two of yall exchanged with the intense eye contact spoke volumes over the silence.

Yoongi kissed you softly before slipping out of you and walking to his bathroom to grab a damp towel, he cleaned you off; the towel causing you to slightly hiss due to how sensitive you were. Before going to put the towel away he handed you your underwear and his shirt, not looking your way but caring quietly like he usually did, but no matter you smiled to yourself as you slipped on his shirt happily. Coated in his scent you giggled and crawled under the covers waiting for your Dageu prince to come back and sleep next to you. He came back wearing black and blue boxers, his hair a mess and his cheeks pink as pink can be, he looked angelic…well sort of.

He slipped under the covers and nonchalantly scooped you up into him, looking up at the ceiling as your head rested on his bare chest and your hand rested on his stomach. “Are we going to talk about what all happened today?” As cliche and as 'girl’ like it seemed it must be asked, because you admitted mutual feelings of love, and made love of the first date, there was no denying that what happened prior was way more then a typical fuck. It was magical and meant something.

“I think what just happened spoke louder then anything Y/n.” His soft chuckle made his chest vibrate underneath you, and perhaps his answer wasn’t exactly what you were looking for but he was right.

“So we just see where this goes?” Not jumping into a relationship that both of yall knew you wanted, but too scared to do so. Going day by day as two people who enjoyed the other company and loved one another, not the pressure of boyfriend and girlfriend but just…Yoongi and Y/n.

His response was the last thing you heard before falling asleep soundlessly on his chest.

“Just like writing a song.”

The sound of light banter and sizzling bacon woke you up from your much needed sleep, Yoongi still sleeping sweetly beside you, his blonde hair sticking up in random places making him look like the cutest mess ever. Grabbing your phone and pulling on some of Yoongi’s sweats you made your way downstairs without waking sir sleepy head.

It wasn’t untill you were greeted by five sets of wiggling eyebrows, and smug smirks that your realized your mistake. “Looks like Yoongi Hyung marked you up nicely.” Jimin giggled, running up to you and poking your side like a little middle school boy, but of course the humiliating time could not be over without the evil Maknae coming in and taking a jab at the events. He walked up to you and squinted his eyes slightly, hands behind his back and bending over your short body barely. “Mhm, how many is that? One…two…three..and four. Hyung did do a good job.” You punched the defenseless “little” bunny boy in the stomach causing Taehyung to howl in laughter but of course what kind of golden maknae would he be if the punch actually phased him?

“Anyways, wheres Hoseok?” Noticing that of the five pairs of eyes your favorite brown ones were no where to be found. Namjoon turned away with a smirk still plastered on his face while, Jin simply continued cooking, Jimin and Taehyung were giggling like children while Jungkook rose an eyebrow and gestured behind you. “Does that answer your question?”

Jimin and Taehyung’s giggling became background noise as you turned around to see Hoseok with deshelveled hair and light pink cheeks, but it wasn’t Hoseok that had your eyes wide with shock. It was the petite brunette standing next to him, beautiful figure camouflaged behind Hoseok’s familiar silky white button up and leggings that you were assuming were hers. She was beautiful and as to why she was in yalls house wasn’t much of mystery but as to why you are finding out about it now was.

“Y/n, this is Rosé.”

hello the Circles are not a solution to dealing with mages in society as they isolate mages from the other people, leaving the masses still uneducated and unexposed to magic, allowing for prejudices and fear to still continue, no matter how much personal freedom the mages might have inside their cages, they are still in fact cages, still treating the mages like bombs about to explode (pardon the low blow) one single Divine cannot gurantee that the Circles will not systematically fail the mages again as even the Divine is not all powerful, in fact Divine Justinia was ALL FOR reforming the Circles through the Inquisition because she recognized that both the Seekers and the Templars had failed.

FURTHERMORE, the placating of mages in the Circles by allowing them slightly more personal freedom while still treating them as second-class citizens is only a symbolic gesture at best that is completely dependent on the good will of the Divine and not a systematic overhaul the Circles need, that doesn’t address the systematic problem of feeding mages into the Circles and exploiting mages and manipulating them through fear and religion. It also reinforces the dicotomy between Good Circle Mages and Bad Apostates which all other mages that do not attend the Circles fall under that includes Dalish Keepers and Chasind apostates, you know, so it would still be justified to kill and starve apostates like Cole.

The only solution is to secularize whatever group the mages form to govern themselves.

Thank you and have a good day.

I'll Always Protect You (Matt Murdock X Reader)

You were walking home quite happily from work, as you scrolled through your phone, looking for any reminders of any assignments you have to complete, and the fresh blank slate of vacancy in your reminders sent chills to thrash in your body, as you couldn’t wait to get home and actually spend quality time with your fiancé, Matt.

You had been working hard at a new job, that was all the way in Rockefeller Center, that took you months to even get an interview. Even though it was a hike, it kept you and Matt on your feet, since he seemed to get beat up more than he was defending anybody when it came to his profession in law. You didn’t understand why he’d come home with so many bruises, or why he would simply say he fell while walking. He hasn’t ever been clumsy nor gotten into trouble, you were confused, but let it drift your mind, like all the excuses he’s told you before.

Scrolling through your contacts, you found Matt’s and quickly called him, waiting for him to answer.

“(Y/N), are you home yet?” He asked, groggily. You smiled at the warm feeling the sound of his voice gave off. “I’m around the block, and I’m completely free tonight. You have me all to yourself” you softly laughed before hearing Matt groan in pain. Your smile shifted quickly into a frown. “Matt, are you okay?” You asked, stopping in your tracks, waiting for his response.

“Yeah, I-I-I’m fine. I just bumped into the coffee table. That’s all” he spat, before you continued walking. Shortly after your conversation ended, and you had dug your key into the lock of your shared apartment, you felt a hand wrap around your mouth, and one around your waist.

You began thrashing, kicking and trying to scream, but nothing would work. Your body was tossed like a rag doll. Your head hit the cement, blacking out almost immediately. You were shortly picked up, and tossed into the back of a van, before in the apartment above, Matt gently pushed the glass of his window open, and listened for the distressed sounds he had heard. He stuck his head out of the window, feeling the cool, autumn breeze, and the slight drizzle of the freezing rain beginning to fall from above.

Matt closed the window, waiting like a sad puppy for your arrival. Matt tried calling you, no answer. Not really caring about the way he was dressed in his pajamas, he slipped on a pair of sneakers and carefully made his way downstairs, to the front of the building, to wait for you. He called you one last time, before hearing a soft buzzing coming from the outside of the building.

Matt followed the noise, bending down and reaching out for your phone, before picking it up and slitting his thumb against the shattered glass. He slipped your phone into his pocket, and listened carefully, trying to find you. He passed through all the horns honking, people arguing, to hear you letting out the most blood curdling cry he’s every heard.

Matt couldn’t help but grow frustrated. He ran back into the building, almost missing the stairs, before going to save you.

Your eyes shot open, and the smell of dried blood and mildew made you nauseous, while the bright lights caused the most painful migraine ever. You looked at your frail hands, bruised and cut open, your perfectly manicured finger nails now chipped and black. You gradually leaned up, feeling lightheaded, and a sharp pain scatter through your face. You used your fingers to feel around at the wet blood staining your hair and dripping down your face.

The door opened, revealing a large man in battered clothes, holding a tray of unpleasant looking food. He threw it on the floor and kicked it over to you, as if you were an animal.

“Eat up, princess” the mans thick accent rung around the room, before you pushed the unsettling meal back towards him. “I’m not hungry”. He kicked the food back towards you, more aggressively this time. “You better eat, or I’ll make you eat” he growled, slowly walking towards you, hovering over you as you palmed your way across the cold cement floor, and against the wall.

The man bent down and grabbed you by your tear stained cheeks, as you let out a shrilled cry. He lifted you up off of the ground, not caring what damage he was causing to your body. “P-Please” you begged, hoping he would set you down and leave you alone, but doing the opposite. He threw you back onto the ground, and kicked you in the stomach.

You thick coughs echoed around the soundproof room. The man laughed; leaving you all alone again, making you feel like nobody was ever going to find you. You curled up in a ball and hugged your knees, closing your eyes, you imagined yourself at home, back in Matt’s arms.

A loud bang knocked you out of your thoughts, startling you, and causing you to crawl back up and against the wall. You rested your head against the cement wall, listening to the faint sounds of someone grunting, and what honestly sounded like fighting. There were three large pounds on the door, before it knocked off of the hinges, and revealed a stranger in a black mask, limping towards you.

“Come on,” he spoke “we have to go”.

He walked over to you, and tried to help you up, but it was almost impossible, you could barely stand up as it is. He sighed, picking you up bridal style, and quickly carrying you out to safety. He ran through alley ways, behind buildings, anything to keep him unexposed, he was willing to do.

He listened to the thick pumps of your heart, beating along with all the fear replaying. You rested your head against your protectors shoulder, looking at every single detail possible. The scruffiness of his growing beard, his full plump lips that reminded you so much of Matt, you couldn’t help think that this was Matt. You’ve heard about the masked vigilante protecting all of Hells Kitchen, but you didn’t notice that all of Matts clumsy bruises, began when the same man holding you now showed up.

Your eyes widened, and you quickly ripped the mans mask off, hearing him grunt and look at you, terrified of the result from your own actions. You saw Matt, your Matt. You shook your head, as he slipped his mask back on, and ran home even faster, mutter inaudible comments, before arriving to your doorstep. You limped right to the bedroom, slamming the door and locking yourself in there, shocked about Matts lies. You muttered to yourself for over an hour, pacing in circles, before soft knocks could be heard loud and clear. “(Y/N), can we talk about this?” Matt asked, before you unlocked the door, seeing him quite frightened at what you are going to say.

“Matthew,” you started, before he pushed himself onto your lips, latching them onto each other and making sure that you knew he loved you. You sunk into the kiss, not wanting to pull away from him soft lips that were addicting to you. You pulled away, gasping for air, before looking into Matts non-responsive eyes, wandering around, hoping to get a glimpse of something. “I love you Matt, I really do” you said, cupping his scruffy cheeks and looking into his wandering eyes.

“But why didn’t you tell me?” You whimpered, hoping to get a response out of him. “I-I didn’t wanna scare you away,” he started, grabbing your hand. “You’re the first girl I ever, truly loved, (Y/N). You’re the only person other than Foggy and Karen to stick with me for this long. I can’t lose you” Matt’s hands roamed around your shoulders, until you removed your hands from his face and placed them atop of his. “You’re never gonna lose me, Murdock” you smiled, before pressing your lips onto his.

Matt had you locked in his tight grip, as he kept you close to his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, admiring the strong cologne that he used. You looked up at your fiancé, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I love you, Matt” you softly spoke, before Matt pressed a kiss on the top of your head. “I love you too, (Y/N). And I’m always going to protect you, always” he said, as you smiled, and ran your fingers through his soft hair, before intertwining your fingers with his, and pressing one last kiss on his cheek.

anonymous asked:

If Narti is revived by the Quintessence, what do you think she'll be like once she comes back?

I mean considering the similarities drawn between Haggar using that power on her and Narti using her own power on Throk (the whispering, for example) there’s the question of how much she remembers from when it all went down.

So it’s possible she’s going to wake up to an interesting scar and a destroyed cruiser with no idea where all her friends are and pretty ticked about the whole thing.

I doubt she’s really going to Become Evil Due To Resurrection if she does come back, because as I’ve said before: 90% of Zarkon’s “descent to darkness” / becoming a villain happened when he was completely unexposed to quintessence. Unlike Honerva who we could see visually, her becoming closer to Haggar, Zarkon kept his old design the entire time. His moral slide progressed at the same pace Honerva’s did and he wasn’t exposed to the quintessence until the very end. That tells us that quintessence isn’t the factor in Going Evil here.

That and Narti’s more likely going to have progressed from “they can serve their purpose until we’re in position” the way Lotor’s whole team felt about the empire to “I’m pretty dang sure whatever just happened is Haggar’s fault so fuck the empire”

…I suppose alternatively, if I’m right about Lotor having the revelation that Narti wasn’t to blame, it’s entirely possible he might figure out how to work the rift gate and, uh, follow in his parents’ footsteps in a not-so-good manner.

the boy with the bloody teeth and bruised fingers doesn’t come back from the battle.

instead, he becomes something too heavy to carry. he becomes unsent letters. he becomes the air, thick with burning corn husks. he becomes the crunch of sand under bare feet, the waves carving the rocks into smoother shapes. he becomes the red mud painting the boots of his fellow soldiers. he becomes the first fistful of dirt across his own casket.

six years of comfortable silence and casual touches become an absence of comfort and an overabundance of silence.

it’s a tragedy. war is a tragedy. the lack of control, the lack of soft love, the lack of choice over when to say good things, when to hold each other close is a tragedy. it’s a perpetual state of mourning over soft parts left unexposed, over hardened knuckles and hardened faces and tenderness left unexpressed and unfelt. it’s a cheery song in minor. without the lyrics it’s just noise.

there’s parts in the story, parts that take place in the weeds, that take place in the hidden clearings, in the waterfall slosh and white-hot toned silence, in the sway of the shadows, parts where bones collide and teeth collide and then there’s hands, and they’re always rough, and it’s always guilty, parts of it almost aggressive, almost angry, desperate for anything soft to break and get those hands on, hungry for the release of pent-up love, hungry for something more.

freedom. words have meanings. sometimes the freedoms we get aren’t freedoms at all.

the boy with sharp eyes and a tender heart collects anger while his heart collects dust. it’s hard to love like this. it’s hard to properly verbalize affection that shouldn’t be there when the war drags on and it’s easier to just pretend that rough hands on already bruised skin mean anything more than want.

anything passes as love these days. against the backdrop of death and gore anything with softened angles looks like love. doesn’t even have to be genuine, and even when it is it doesn’t have to be properly voiced. it can be invisible. it’s allowed to exist without a form.

the boy with the ink splatter wrists isn’t invisible. he walks into a gunfire and he doesn’t come back from the battle.

in his head, before he walks into it, he sings -

oh freedom oh liberty i’m tired of loving like a martyr i want to love like i’m still alive i think i’m burning alive, oh let me love like i’m still alive -

—  the tragedy of invisible love

24 maxims by Werner Herzog:

1. Always take the initiative.
2. There is nothing wrong with spending a night in jail if it means getting the shot you need.
3. Send out all your dogs and one might return with prey.
4. Never wallow in your troubles; despair must be kept private and brief.
5. Learn to live with your mistakes.
6. Expand your knowledge and understanding of music and literature, old and modern.
7. That roll of unexposed celluloid you have in your hand might be the last in existence, so do something impressive with it.
8. There is never an excuse not to finish a film.
9. Carry bolt cutters everywhere.
10. Thwart institutional cowardice.
11. Ask for forgiveness, not permission.
12. Take your fate into your own hands.
13. Learn to read the inner essence of a landscape.
14. Ignite the fire within and explore unknown territory.
15. Walk straight ahead, never detour.
16. Manoeuvre and mislead, but always deliver.
17. Don’t be fearful of rejection.
18. Develop your own voice.
19. Day one is the point of no return.
20. A badge of honor is to fail a film theory class.
21. Chance is the lifeblood of cinema.
22. Guerrilla tactics are best.
23. Take revenge if need be.
24. Get used to the bear behind you.

Werner HerzogA Guide for the Perplexed” by Paul Cronin

In the Depths of the Sea- A Practical Occupation

Read The Prologue Here

Quick Authors Note just to get this out of the way. Yes, I have actually decided to write. I am just as surprised as you all are, but I figured I just needed to rip off the band-aid and post something! Special shoutouts to my cheerleaders and best friends @mibasiamille and @internallydeceased because without them constantly yelling at me for not writing I would not be posting right now!

Also, if anyone can thing of a title for this chapter, hit me up, because I have hit a wall and It is really frustrating!

So without further ado, here is Chapter One!

“Mary. Go into the garden and bring me the Aloe Vera,” Claire demanded, pressing her gloved hands onto the bloody thigh of a Lieutenant Jeremy Foster, a soldier and university student who had sought out Claire’s medicinal talents for a rather particular affliction.

An hour prior, the young man had arrived at the steps of her home, begging to be treated, but refused to divulge what ailed him.  Herding the debilitated gentleman into the rear of the house, Claire ushered him into the shed that had served as her makeshift infirmary: a place where she could tend to the patients of Bridgetown confidentially.

Sending a messenger to fetch her friend and assistant, Mary Hawkins, Claire begin to interrogate the lieutenant, pressing him for details on what brought him to her doorstep.

“I need to know what has happened to you, Lieutenant Foster.  If you refuse to tell me what ails you, it is untreatable, and you might as well just go into town where Doctor Abernathy can attend to you”

Foster, delicately perched on the side of the “examination table”, sighed and lowered his head, refusing to meet Claire’s eyes. Normally a proud, stoic man, who carried himself about the port with an aloof sense of entitlement; Claire felt mildly pleased to see him reduced to such a state. Still, she had agreed to help him, and knew that the circumstances must be unusual to bring him to seek her rather than the resident doctor.  She began cautiously moving closer to the young man, beginning to take a more passive approach to procuring the required information.

“Lieutenant Foster, Jeremy, I can promise you that nothing you tell me here will ever leave this room. You have my word; I am here to help you.”

Keep reading


pairings: Dick Grayson x Reader
characters: Nightwing (Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson), Reader
word count: 1,162
warnings: alcoholism, cheating, angst, unstable relationship
a/n: i wrote this a long time ago for a drabble book series i was writing about Young Justice, and so i found this in my google docs and decided to polish it up a little and post it here and see how that goes
summary: Your relationship with Dick is toxic, but you can’t help but love him.

There’s a bitter taste on your tongue and a burning sensation going down your throat. But you pay no mind to any of it, instead focusing on the pleasurable numbness the amber liquid leaves behind. The thoughts of what he could be doing makes your thirst for the liquor grow. It makes your blood boil and your fingers automatically curl around the glass bottle as you pour more into your glass.

You know where he is; you have always known. The smell of sex and sweat, and strong perfume always lingered on his body and clothes. So how could you not have noticed? You tried to pretend everything was okay and that he only cared about you–pretended that he was faithful. But you’ve always known the truth. He never was and never has been–it’s toxic.

Dicks lips travel down the smooth skin of her neck, pressing sloppy kisses to the unexposed skin. His hands roam naughtily over her hot body, eliciting sensual moans from her mouth. The girl under him squirms pleasantly, pressing her body up against his and grinding her hips against him in need and want.

In a second he will have his way with her, but for now he wants to play in to the desire.

It’s so sinfully sweet the way her nails trail down his back as he begins to pound into her with such heated desire and anger. She moans and moans, her voice growing more wanton with each mewl. She doesn’t cry his name; he doesn’t care. She doesn’t know it anyway and it’s better that way.

She’s almost at her peak, he notes, her walls clenching tightly around him. He groans against her collarbone as she digs her nails deeper into his back.

What is he doing?

Your eyes are bloodshot red from crying, but you don’t care. There’s no one around to see you—there never is. You haven’t been able to confide this to anyone, not even your best-friends. You didn’t want them to look at you both differently, didn’t want them to pity you. You could almost see M’gann’s, Zatanna’s and Artemis’ faces, all of them looking at you with judgement, worry, and sympathy, but it’s not you you’re worried about–no, you’re never worried about yourself. A bitter, choking laugh escapes your lips. It’s him you’re worried about. Once they catch wind of what he’s doing they’d surely rip him apart. But you would protect him; it doesn’t matter if he’s going behind your back because you will always continue to love him. You will always be foolish enough to continue loving him.

He’s on his back as she kisses and nips on his neck, her hands are all over his toned chest, clawing and massaging as she bounces up in rhythm. He doesn’t look at the pretty blonde riding him; he doesn’t hold her waist and help her move; instead he stares up at the dull, white ceiling.

It didn’t matter to him anymore, he isn’t in to fucking the voluptuous woman. The thought of you home and waiting up for him made him feel guilty. Who was he to keep hurting you like this? He should be with you, by your side. Like the good boyfriend you both pretended he was. But it’s all pretend because you both know he isn’t and never has been.

His voice rings out in your memory of him; his voice sweet and tantalizing. You clench your eyes shut, wanting his melodious voice to leave your head, but instead more thoughts of him begin to run through your mind. The way his lips quirk up into a teasing smile whenever he has you blushing, the way his lips move against yours in the sweetest motion, the way his fingers slowly intertwine with yours, and the way his eyes light up whenever he says he loves you.

The feeling of longing overtakes the numbing buzz that the alcohol had created for you earlier and you quickly down another glass full of the bitter drink. Toxic, that’s what this is. Toxic is what he is. Toxic is what this relationship is.

The blonde stops her actions, gets off him and picks up her clothes while yelling profanities at him. She is beyond mad—infuriated. It doesn’t register to him when she had walked out or what she had even said before leaving. It’s not important and he doesn’t care. He stays laying on the bed, his chest rising and falling as his thoughts begin to run like wild. All of them being of you. He loves you too much yet here he is, laying down on a random hotel room bed. He had thought he would change for you and he did at first, he really did. But temptation was too much for him. He had fallen right back into the game before he knew it and it shamed him.

With a strong resolve, he stands up, putting his clothes on and leaves the hotel.  He gets on his motorcycle, his only thoughts being of wanting to be with you; wanting this disgusting, unclean feeling he had to go away. He needs you. He loves you.

You feel your head becoming lighter and your body becoming heavier. It feels as if your head is a balloon and your body an anchor, one trying to help you escape from your problems and the other trying to you in place to face them. That makes you realize you’ve had enough, and you push away the bottle as best as you can with your unfocused gaze.

Through your hazy mind you hear the door being thrown open. If you had been in the right state of mind you would have jumped in your seat but you aren’t so you don’t. Instead, you stand up, unsteady, but you stand up.

His heart is pounding in his chest as he slams the door open. He notices the once full bottle of whiskey on the table before his eyes land on your unsteady form. The guilt begins to eat him alive. You’re drinking because of him, you’ve been drinking because of him. It’s all his fault.

He closes the door behind him and take long strides towards you, suddenly pulling you into his arms. You don’t react to his sudden hug until the smell of cheap perfume engulfs your sense of smell. “Lemme go!” you yell in your drunken state, pounding your fragile hands against his hard chest. However, it only makes him hold you closer. “Dick! Lemme go!” But he doesn’t. He can’t let you go, he won’t let you go.

His lips are against your ear as he apologizes continuously, “I’m so sorry.“ His words are sincere and soft as he continues to apologize with “I love you.” He can feel your tears soaking in to his shirt, but he doesn’t care. You need him and he needs you. He loves you and you love him.

And that’s all that matters.


People often message me asking for my advice on filmmaking. Nothing I say could ever be as brilliant as this list from the great Werner Herzog. Here you go…

1. Always take the initiative.
2. There is nothing wrong with spending a night in jail if it means getting the shot you need.
3. Send out all your dogs and one might return with prey.
4. Never wallow in your troubles; despair must be kept private and brief.
5. Learn to live with your mistakes.
6. Expand your knowledge and understanding of music and literature, old and modern.
7. That roll of unexposed celluloid you have in your hand might be the last in existence, so do something impressive with it.
8. There is never an excuse not to finish a film.
9. Carry bolt cutters everywhere.
10. Thwart institutional cowardice.
11. Ask for forgiveness, not permission.
12. Take your fate into your own hands.
13. Learn to read the inner essence of a landscape.
14. Ignite the fire within and explore unknown territory.
15. Walk straight ahead, never detour.
16. Manoeuvre and mislead, but always deliver.
17. Don’t be fearful of rejection.
18. Develop your own voice.
19. Day one is the point of no return.
20. A badge of honor is to fail a film theory class.
21. Chance is the lifeblood of cinema.
22. Guerrilla tactics are best.
23. Take revenge if need be.
24. Get used to the bear behind you.

The East Indies would never be the veritable well of oil that Japan had hoped it would. There was never enough oil to meet Japan’s needs, and the tankers that transported that oil back to Japan were constantly attacked by US submarines. The vaunted Tarakan crude oil that was so light and sweet that it could be sprayed directly into a ship’s furnaces would cause at least three Japanese ships –all aircraft carriers –to explode from the volatile fumes that the unrefined crude oil emitted.

Rising Sun, Falling Skies, by Jeffrey R. Cox 

Just before the Battle of the Philippine Sea, the aircraft carriers Taiho, Shokaku, and Hiyo refueled using unrefined Tarakan crude oil. This undesalted oil damaged boiler tubes, and the unremoved naphtha fraction volatilized to form explosive atmospheres - contributing to the loss of the aforementioned carriers. 

The most notable loss was the armored carrier Taiho. USS Albacore (SS-218) struck her with a torpedo, fracturing her aviation fuel tanks and jamming her forward elevator. Eventually, that fuel started vaporizing, soon permeating her upper and lower hangar decks. Nobody thought to cover the lethal mixture with foam from the fire suppression system. Terrible damage control continued without success, as the chief damage control officer ordered the ship’s ventilation capacity to full to get rid of the fumes.

 Unfortunately for Taiho, that act brought fumes to places previously unexposed, and six and a half hours after taking a single torpedo, Taiho suffered a massive explosion; causing the flight deck to heave up and the sides of the ship to blow out. After Admiral Ozawa left, she suffered a second tremendous explosion, sinking with 1,650 of her 2,150 man complement still aboard.


Robert Plant 1980s Fashion Retrospective Part 1 – c. 1983.

Birth of the controversial mullet, which is generally not a fav among the RP fandom. Sleeveless shirts, unexposed chest, minimal jewelry, semi-tight jeans, but still sassy as fuck.

I narrowed it down to two pics for beginning (1983), middle (1985), and end (1988) of decade. Let me know your fav or least fav RP 1980s fashion moments.