#But again. I am not complaining about it.

[wilwheaton]

President-elect Donald Trump will come into office next year with four extra slots to fill on the federal bench, thanks to a deal Senate Republicans struck with Democrats. Republicans agreed to relent on their procedural warfare waged in recent days in an attempt to thwart the confirmation of President Joe Biden’s judicial nominees to lifetime appointments in his final weeks in office. In exchange for the GOP allowing lower-level district court nominees to receive quicker votes, Senate Democrats will not move forward with confirming four higher-level circuit court picks and saving the positions for Trump to fill. Both sides spun the arrangement as a win-win: Republicans will guarantee slots for Trump judges, and Democrats will save valuable floor time on fighting for nominees they were unsure could be confirmed.

Trump scores win on judges from Senate GOP despite attendance problems

I’m old enough to remember Democrats “keeping our powder dry” during the entirety of the GW Bush years, while the entire — literally the entire — Democratic base was screaming for them to do anything to reign him in.

So when I see Durbin pull this shit, I am both entirely unsurprised, and also furious. They all told us, again and again, that if Trump wins, our entire country and everything it means will be destroyed. I happen to believe that is true, but I don’t know that they did (or care that they will be affected, too).

Because if they did believe that the entire American Experiment was on the line, they would be doing what the GOP in North Carolina is doing, and what Republicans do every single time they lose their majority: exploit every loophole, push every boundary, use every single tool, no matter how cynically, to push through as much of their agenda as they can, and make it as hard as possible for the incoming majority to enact their agenda. Use the tools you have to protect and expand your policies, and let the winners complain about it, because policy is what matters.

Instead, we get a bunch of Model UN dorks who want to write stern letters and wring their hands at the lack of comity, while the Republicans are walking around setting the entire building on fire.

Durban, Schumer, and all the elder Democrats have got to go. We’ve tried it their way since the 90s, and look where it has gotten us. Get out of the way and let younger Democrats who aren't afraid of being disinvited from country club parties and fancy DC dinners do the work we sent you all to Washington to do.

[soundwavefucker69]

I don't share this often, but I am a trans man named Minty.

awhile after I got my legal name change, I asked my mom what she would have named me if I was a boy. she said Sebastian, and I groaned and complained that I should have asked before I got the name change, because I really DID like Sebastian now that it was occurring to me as a possible name and had ALWAYS liked Sebastian, even before my MCU days as a teenager. I had even considered it as an option but worried I'd end up looking like a weird fandom kid that had never let go of the MCU. if I had known that was the name my mother had picked for me, I would have had justification to choose it.

she asked me why I picked Minty then. i kinda paused in surprise because I thought it was obvious. and I was like. well. I wanted a name i felt like I could associate with childhood me.

after the first house we lived in was foreclosed on by the bank, we had to rent while my parents fixed their credit and swore never to get a fixer upper again. so we picked a nice house in our small town with only two real neighbors of note: an old lady, whose kids had forgotten about her, that lived way down the alley, around the point it turned from paved to dirt, the only house down there, who had a pomegranate tree in her ill-tended front yard, and a nice old lady next door that for some inexplicable reason had a miniature horse and a beautifully tended flower garden she had foolishly once planted mint in. she also had a very, very old fashioned rotary telephone. I mean the kind hardwired into the wall, of metal, with a speaker with a smooth wooden handle that sat neatly on top. not one of the plastic ones. the ones you see in old movies.

we loved these old ladies very much. the pomegranate lady was too old to keep up on her yard, so my brother and I would go with our dad to help weed whack and scrape up the dead leaves. we didn't offer too much, she was a proud sort, and couldn't pay us, but just enough to help out a little. and the mint in her flower garden lady loved it when we came by to say hi to her horse whose name I forget and loved to teach us how to garden.

she would send us home with mint. obviously. because when you have a mint infestation, well. it's pointless, but you gotta try anyway. and my mom would take that mint and make sun tea, just on the edge of not sweet enough, bc she was a bit of a crunchy mom, but not enough to reprimand me for sneaking a bit of sugar into my cup after to mix it up. (the sugar never dissolved right, especially after it was chilled, and i would always make a racket trying to get it to do so)

I told her I picked Minty because it ties me to my childhood. I didn't want to just cast it away. I wasn't Minty yet, but I also wouldn't be Minty without those days.

mom hasn't fully come around to me being trans. but she was quiet for a long, long time before she kind of whispered. I think I like Minty better than Sebastian. you should keep it.

my mom has always beat herself up over our childhood. she lacked a lot of stability in her upbringing and thought church was the way to go with my brother and I. unfortunately, she picked the wrong church. it was intensely traumatizing for us. we've had a lot of tough conversations about it. but I was able to tell her that day, you know Mom, I know you think you didn't do enough, but just know I'm not trans because you put me in a place where womanhood was miserable and I'm running from it. I don't remember much of the church, even though it consumed my life. what I do remember is my mother, the woman I may have complicated feelings towards, but have always admired and was always my standard for womanhood, being criticized by the other women for allowing me to read this book or that book and not bending or breaking under their rebukes for twenty years. I remember finding out as a twenty year old that I was the only "girl" in church that got the HPV vaccine, because you wanted to protect me, and not rely on chastity alone, like some sort of egotistical maniac who believed I'd always be your daughter, not a living breathing person that would make choices you didn't approve of as an adult, that shouldn't have to suffer for no reason from those choices. I remember you reading to my brother and I well into our teen years, using your acting talents that didn't blossom into the career you wanted to bring the characters in Peter and the Starcatchers to life. I remember listening to Lord of the Rings on cassette tape in the mini van, even though they said it was demonic when they found out. I remember the mom that let me be a tomboy. I remember the mom that would put on the Wind and the Willows on cassette from the library on rainy summer days and we'd listen to it and eat meatballs and spaghetti in the kitchen.

I told her, you're not a failure as a mother, and I didn't hate womanhood because of your example. it just didn't fit me. you made mistakes because you're human. I never thought of you as less than because you're a woman, and I didn't want to escape the cage you're thinking i wanted to escape.

my mom cried. I think that was the first time i made her cry and didn't feel bad about it.

anyways. not a soft memory, but it feels soft to me.

Tell me a soft memory

[xoxxbilliexoxx]

Friends? Just Friends?

part 2

part 1 here

When you wake up after a night that changed everything for you two, Billie lets you continue exploring what it’s like to be with a girl … ;)

y/n POV

As the sunlight peaks through the curtains I’m slowly pulled from my slumber. My eyes stay closed, allowing myself to fall in and out of a sleepy haze. The cool sheets rub against my soft legs and the breeze from the open window runs lightly along my arm. As I roll over I smile at the smell of Billie’s shampoo and perfume blending together. It’s a smell that has taken over my bed with the frequency that she shares it with me. I take a deep breath, letting it flood my senses before sighing and returning back to my thoughtless meditative state. It isn’t until I feel the brisk air hit my bare chest that I realize I’m naked. My eyes flash open as I turn to see Billie’s exposed boobs only half covered by the sheets and I am hit with the memories of last night. It all felt like a dream I didn’t want to wake up from. Now I'm remembering just how real it was as I see her bruise covered neck. I close my eyes again, smiling as I play it all back in my head. play back the feeling of her boobs in my mouth, her lips on my lips, her tongue on my pussy. As I lay still, happily reminiscing on the passion we shared, the sunrays hits my eyelids and my brain is filled with gold light. I feel the bed moving and as billie’s body pushes against mine I open my eyes, watching her lips meet my forehead before she settles back down on my chest.

“goodmorning pretty girl” I half whisper half speak, my morning voice cracking through my throat. “goodmorning lesbo” she giggles back at me. “so that was real huh? not just an amazing dream I had last night?” i flirt out, not hiding it at all. “oh no baby it was very very real, so real, in fact, that ur still very much naked” Billie states, as her hand wanders down to my core, swiping her fingers between my lips making me twitch before bringing it back up and hugging me. Her intentions weren’t to get me horny again, they were more to just tease lightly, but I don’t think she realizes just how powerful of an effect she has on me. I lay still for a while, feeling overwhelmed by the joy I’m getting from billie cuddled up on my chest, the long building tension now gone and the flirting no longer needing to be hidden. I don’t dare ask what is going on, not only because I don’t want to ruin the moment but because I truthfully don’t care right now. All I care about is the way Billie makes me feel, and the way we so naturally fell into this dynamic, like it was meant to happen exactly as it did; Like we are exactly where we are meant to be.

Her fingertips lightly stroke my arm up and down, her touch so soft that her fingers continue to lift, disconnecting and reconnecting over and over. I hum at the feeling. It’s so peaceful with her, like we've been doing this forever. “Your skin is so soft, how did I not notice this before?” I laugh at her question before answering, “I think you were scared to touch me for a while, Eilish” She's silent for a second. I can feel her cheeks moving, forming into a smile. “mmmmm well I can touch you all I want now” she finally says before moving her hand up to grab my boob, shaking her hand up and down making it move with her. She looks so amused, so happy to have me like this now, to touch me like this now. “you better quit it before you get me all horny again” I laugh, pulling her hand away. Before I let her go, she interlocks it with mine and lays them both back down. “And what would be so wrong with you being horny again?” she looks up at me as she finishes her question. When I look down to meet her glance I can’t help but giggle at the smug look on her face. “shit i’m not complaining, go ahead baby” I crack back at her, my honest tone mixing in with the laughter, making it clear she can do whatever she’d like.

Everything feels so much more real when there isn’t wine in the mix, when the moon is no longer glowing but instead the sun is filling the room, when the birds outside are chirping. Her touch moving across my lower stomach, the goosebumps forming on my skin, her lips making contact with my collarbone, it’s all so much more real. She looks up and, fuck, this eye contact feels oh so real. when our lips touch it’s more delicate than it was last night, more intimate somehow. It’s slow, like we aren’t wanting to devour each other, but instead want to learn exactly what our lips feel like against one another. The slow speed continues but the passion grows. Our lips dance between each other, finding a rhythm, making up the choreography and sticking with it. The light sounds of kissing fills the room and we stay just like this for a while. We aren’t in a rush, I don’t need sex, I need her.

My own hands grow curious of her body and my confidence builds. As Billie’s lips continue to wrap around mine and her body is still draped across me, I grab her waist and pull her up more. Our heads are now equal, I'm no longer looking down at her. Her one leg is thrown across my body and her other is snug against my side. Our lips continue to move slowly but passionately, not wanting to end this intense make out session. I can’t remember the last time I made out with someone this long without it turning into more. Men and their fucking lack of foreplay, ew. I let my hand move down to Billie’s ass and squeeze it hard, wanting more of her body immediately. Our lips are speeding up and the kiss is becoming sloppier. I feel a hunger growing from deep within me, but it’s not for my own pleasure. I suddenly feel an intense craving to touch her, to please her, to learn all the parts of her body like she did for me last night. My thoughts race around my head as we continue to let the desire build. I don’t know what to do, or how to do it, all I know is I want her, I’ve wanted her forever.

I let the fervor turn to confidence as I roll us over, Billie now under me. I pull away for a second to look down at her before I smash my lips back down, not able to stay away from her. My hands roam her body fast, wanting to touch every part of her all at once. I slow myself down when I reach her boobs, squeezing and kneading them as I watch her chest begin to rise and fall more dramatically. My lips move away from her as I find my way to her neck, immediately licking from her collarbone to right under her ear, and then biting down on the same sweet spot I found last night. She’s moaning and writhing underneath me, her breathing becoming heavier as she makes it known how badly she wants to be touched, to be pleased. Seeing her like this turns me on so hard, never imagining she’d be so submissive, so willing to let someone else take control like this. In all the stories she’s told me of her crazy hookups with random girls, she’s always the one in control, even when she’s receiving. Right now though, it’s clear she’s given herself to me, surrendered to my touch and in her own world.

My mouth continues planting wet kisses across her neck and chest and she begins letting out very quiet whimpers, making it seem like I'm winding her up so much she’s about to explode. I feel her legs move under me, crossing them tightly, obviously searching for some sort of release. I move my hand to one of her thighs and pull them apart before planting my palm on her clothed center and grabbing her harshly. The long awaited contact makes her hips jolt up, forcing an even deeper pressure against her core resulting in a long, closed mouth moan. My desire continues to guide me as my hand moves under her shorts. I groan when I feel her arousal dripping down her thighs. I feel overwhelmingly turned on by how wet I’ve made her, how caught up in my touch she has become. I run my fingers between her lips, spreading around her wetness and watching her face contort in pleasure. Her eyes are closed and her hands are grabbing at her own boobs, continuing to move her body under me.

I let my index and middle finger slip up to her clit and as soon as I find it I begin wrapping tight circles around it. Billie whines louder and I put more pressure on her swollen bud, circling faster and tighter and letting my lips find their way back to her neck. “fuck y/n, yes, please yes” she moans out, begging for more of my touch. I’m caught in between wanting to suck sweetly on her neck or watch her face showing every ounce of pleasure I'm giving her. I pause my circles to run my fingers back up and down her pussy, collecting more of the wetness I’ve caused before going back up and finding her clit again. As I start to rub it again she opens her mouth, groaning loudly, no longer able to hold in her moans. “That's it baby, I wanna hear you, let me hear how good i’m making you feel” she lets out a gasp, as if she was holding her breath, and allows her sweet noises to spill from her. “god y/n yes, just like that don’t stop”

I lick up her neck again before sucking on her ear lobe, earning a loud groan and a buck of her hips. I continue to suck for a moment before releasing and whispering in her ear, “i fucking love making you feel good baby” she closes her lips tightly again, humming as I speed up my circles. Her clit is even more swollen now, making it easier for me to add pressure to my touch. Billie’s breathing speeds up, It’s clear she's drunk off my touch, hypnotized by pleasure. I feel her legs begin to shake and I salivate, knowing I'm about to make her cum. I can’t take my eyes off of her and my mouth opens before I even have time to think about what I’m saying, “cum for me billie, moan my name and cum for me” that’s all it took before she grabbed the sheets hard, back arching off the bed and the sweet sounds of her orgasm filling the room. “y/nnn fuckkkkkkkkk” she yells out as her legs shake hard with my continued stimulation “that’s right baby let go for me, that feels good huh?” she nods her head rapidly and the moans coming out of her travel straight to my own pussy. As she comes down for the high I slow my circles, then remove my hand, already missing the contact I had her with. Her eyes open as I bring my fingers to my mouth, eager to taste her cum. I moan at the sweetness, never expecting it to taste so good and she smiles, watching me lick her wetness off of me with pure hunger.

I feel as if I must literally be glowing, so high from finally getting to please a woman, so high from getting to watch as I make Billie cum. I am so so gay, so fucking gay, gay for Billie specifically. I want to spread her legs and taste all of her, devour her and make her cum over and over again. I want all of it, all right now. Instead I lay my head on her chest, helping her resurface and give her love after her high. “You are so insanely beautiful Billie, I hope you know that” I kiss her cheek as the last of my words hit my lips. Billie’s breathing is heavy, trying to control it as she laughs to herself, clearly shocked at what just happened. “How are you so fucking good at that, have you secretly been fucking women for years?” Billie finally says. “Fuck I wish, I’m just flicking my bean constantly” I laugh out boldly, her giggles mixing with mine. “Mmmm well lucky you, and lucky me now too, you know what the fuck you’re doing y/n” she blushes at her words, hit with the memories of the state I had her in just a few moments ago. “maybe with my fingers yea, but don’t have such high hopes for the rest” I tell her honestly, expressing my continued nervousness of all of this. “We’ll see, we’ll see” she giggles as she kisses me, “seems like you’re a natural, whispering all that nasty shit in my ear while you make me feel like im fucking floating” I hide my face slightly embarrassed at her calling me out for my quite dirty words that came out so naturally. Never have I been a talker during sex, but it seems like everything is different with Billie.

“Bashful now, are ya?” Billie giggles as she slides out of the bed, kissing me on the forehead before walking into the bathroom. Taking off her wet shorts, she turns to face me in the doorway, her fully naked body now on display for me. She’s so confident, so comfortable showing herself to me, so easy about what all is going on between us suddenly. My eyes follow her curves as I stare at her body, not even trying to hide my inability to look away. My attraction for her is so intense it feels it could kill me. My love for her seems to be the same, but I don’t think I’m ready to let myself begin to process that just yet. As I continue to stare, eyes wide, a smile planted across my face, heart pounding in my chest, and between my legs, she just stands there and smiles. She giggles as she begins striking poses, goofing off like always. “Fuck I’m so gay” I almost shout, my eyes still glued to her body as Billie and I both laugh at my statement. “Alright gay girl, I’m getting in the shower, you coming in or not?” I hopped out of bed as soon as I heard her words, running into the bathroom and shutting the door behind me, behind us.

I kinda wanna make this a series… or a wattpad book 👀

[liveyun]

you’re an idiot (so am i) | j.jk

pairing. jeon jungkook x fem oc/reader

rating. M

genre. enemies to 👀, university AU, neighbours AU, comedy, drama, romance, angst, slight smut

warnings. coarse language, crACK like lOTS OF IT, theyre both idiots. excessive bickering,,, gym related stuff,,, Medical school itself is a warning,, unhealthy amounts of protein mentions,, i’m Sorry if you’re a gymbro 😭🙏🏾, awkwardness, oc gets slightly injured, it gets slightly smutty 👀, unspoken feelings bc they both suck at communicating, some Cute stuff, that should be it but lmk if i missed any, its 4am

wc. 4.5k +

if this writing style flops, i’ll probably quit writing too 💀

it’s 7:04 AM

or is it really. what is the time again

unfortunately you are awake.

and it’s not by choice.

it’s because your protein 💪 PROTEIN 💪 MORE PROTEIN 🏋️ gymrat neighbour is up, doing burpees in his living room

and the walls between your apartments are criminally thin

and you’re convinced he’s trying to invent a new form of torture through burpees because the sQUEAKING OF HIS DAMN SHOES ARE JUST AS LOUD AS AN ALARM CLOCK!!

why is he even awake at this ungodly hour, you wonder for the 8293838th time since moving in

you feel like crying

for rEAL.

it was around 5:30 am when u finally had let out a sigh of relief at having finally completed your assignment

you roll out of bed, hair resembling a bird’s nest

what else is bed hair supposed to look like

“O YEA!”

here we go

again

you feel like ripping your already damaged hair bc why does he have to be so damn loud

has no occupant not filed a complaint against him yet?

so now u consider knocking on his door to complain... but you remember what happened the last time you tried

jungkook had answered the door holding two dumbbells liKe they were extensions of his arms, shirtless, smiling so brightly it could cure vitamin D deficiency

you knew you were cooked the moment smirked at you gawkinG at his physique and you felt your cheeks warming up

“oh, hey, Y/N,” he’d said, casually flexing mid-sentence with that stupid grin on his face “need something? Or just admiring the view?”

you haven’t known peace ever since

by 8:15 AM, you’ve surrendered to fate and shuffled into the kitchen for coffee

you swEar you hear Jungkook’s blender whirring as he makes another one of his infamous protein shakes

does he even eat anything which does not have protein powder

like ok you understand the value of protein

but anything which has that stupid thing in it automatically tastes like the Biggest Piece of Dogshit

and somehow that’s what you neighbour has 24/7

last week he had accidentally left one in the communal fridge

it smelled like death and regret.

absolute L

anyway u think u need to get something in ur system too and thats when u open your fridge

and sigh

it’s empty.

except for a jar of pickles and a, uh, questionable carton of oat milk

yea. you’ll have to get brunch today. no futher questions asked

10:32 AM

ur first class of the day

and guess what

u have made the mistake of sitting near Jungkook in the lecture hall.

again! 😍

u swear that u are trying to focus on the lecture but is it really your fault that jungkook looks extra,,,...,,,

beefy

his notebook is open, but instead of notes, he’s drawing a disturbingly accurate diagram of biceps

and the shading looks pretty accurate too

he notices you staring, oof “anatomy is about more than just books, Y/N.”

you feel a muscle near your eye twitch

“i really don’t remember asking.”

ouch

that came out a bit too rude. . .

you feel like u should say sorry or something but he just flashes you that golden retriever grin

and somehow, you’re the one who feels stupid

12:10 PM

you’d think a med school lunch break would feel like a break

but no

the first thing you hear is the unmistakable pop of jungkook’s tupperware lid. it’s like pavlov’s bell, but instead of a dog, it triggers your impending irritation

of course it’s chicken, broccoli, and rice. gymrat starter pack™

does this man even know other foods exist?

atleast it doesn’t look unseasoned so maybe you can take it

you’re not the one having it anyway

“bon appétit,” he says with that smug grin, shoveling a forkful into his mouth like he’s filming a mukbang

you side-eye your sad excuse of a sandwich. “don’t you ever get bored of eating that?”

he gasps like a victorian man having seen the ankle of his wife for the first time

“bored? of gains? never.”

the chewing. oh god, the chewing. it’s so loud you’re convinced he’s doing it on purpose

crunch. chew. sip of water from the world’s largest bottle. repeat.

“do you have to eat like a vacuum?”

he pauses, fork mid-air, and looks at you with wide, innocent eyes. then he grins. “do you have to be this cute when you’re annoyed?”

wha— cough!!

did you just choke at your sandwich infront of him?

-100 aura points

your brain just blue-screens

what the hell are you supposed to do with that information

12:22 pm

you haven’t touched your chips yet. you’re saving them for after jungkook’s food massacre ends

his tupperware is licked clean but he’s already eyeing your bag of chips like a hawk

“you gonna eat those?”

“yes, jungkook, i’m gonna eat my chips”

“cool”

c r u n c h

he’s already eaten half the bag.

u are genuinely considering homicide now

the girl from the next table suddenly waves at him, all giggly and twirling her hair like she’s auditioning for a romcom

“hey, jungkook! you should totally sit with us!”

he glances at you, one brow raised. “should i?”

“why are you asking me?” you snap, already annoyed (but like, annoyed in a normal way, not jealous. definitely not jealous)

you miss the way his lips quirk in the corners

“nah, i think i’ll stay here,” he says, smirking. “you’re better company anyway”

...

why is your face heating up. why. stop it

1:00 PM

you’re walking to your next class when jungkook catches up, sipping his protein shake. the smell is somewhere between expired yogurt and pure evil

“so, lunch was fun,” he says casually, like he didn’t commit multiple crimes against your sanity earlier

“for who?” you mumble, giving him the nastiest bombastic side eye

“for both of us,” he replies, grinning. “don’t lie, y/n, you’d miss me if i wasn’t around”

“i’d miss the peace”

he laughs heartily and it’s the kind of laugh that makes you want to both strangle him and maybe... smile a little

1:12 PM

ur phone dings

dumb(bell)kook : (now) bring more chips tomorrow

or don’t. i’ll just steal them again

>:D

you stare at your screen for a second, debating whether to respond or block his number

you type back

you : (1:13PM) touch my chips again and i’ll report you to student conduct

his reply is instant.

dumb(bell)kook : (now) bet they’d let me off for good behavior 😛

2:47 pm.

group project time!

otherwise known as “watch y/n slowly lose her sanity” time

you're hunched over your notes, trying to come up with literally anything for this cursed assignment while everyone else is glued to their phones

“guys, any ideas?” you try, for the fifth time, because teamwork makes the dream work, right?

wrong. dead silence. you can practically hear your soul exiting your body

one guy mutters, "we could... idk, make a powerpoint?" and goes back to scrolling on instagram. helpful king

you’re about three seconds away from making a powerpoint on why you hate everyone here when the door swings open

in walks jungkook, twenty minutes late, balancing a protein shake in one hand and a clipboard in the other

like he’s about to announce his plan for world domination

he slides into the chair next to you, annoyingly fresh, as if he hasn’t just already benched three cows at the gym

“did i miss anything?” he asks, sipping his shake and eyeing you with those boba lookalike peepers like he’s the main character

why are his eyes so

cute

“yeah, we solved climate change and made contact with aliens. you're late.”

he smirks. smirks. “nice. guess i’ll tackle world hunger next.”

one of your lab mates looks up from her phone just to whisper, “he’s so hot..”

my ass.

“he’s useless”

you’re about to drop-kick the clipboard out of his hands when he lazily stretches and says, “so what’s the plan, y/n? you always have the best ideas”

and just like that, everyone turns to you like a pack of hyenas waiting for their next meal

you might actually murder him. right after you finish this stupid project.

>:-)

midnight.

you’re staring at your notes like they’re written in ancient alien hieroglyphics. focus? yup, that’s a myth

through the wall, you hear it. again.

jungkook’s obnoxious gym playlist thumping loud enough to summon the gods of protein.

how about you just summon the reaper to maybe reap your soul or his

you try to ignore it. you really do. but then the bass drops, and you swear the walls start vibrating

ARGH

that’s it. you’ve snapped. you slam your pen down and march out of your apartment like a woman on a mission

by the time you’re at his door, you’re already regretting this decision

but sleep-deprived y/n? she’s not known for her impulse control

you bang on the door like your life depends on it

>:-(

after a moment, jungkook opens up, looking like he just stepped out of a gym rat rom-com. damp hair, earbuds in, wearing a tank top that shows off way too much arm.

good lord, those tattoos..

“what’s up?” he asks casually, pulling out an earbud, as if you didn’t just nearly break his door down

whats up? what thE hELL DOES HE MEAN WHATS UP??

“it’s midnight!” you yell, waving a hand in the general direction of your apartment. “some of us need sleep to survive!”

he blinks at you, tilting his head like a confused golden retriever. “but you’re awake now. want to do a quick set of push-ups?

you stare at him. you need to go to the store from where he bought the audacity. “push-ups?!”

“yeah,” he says, dead serious. “it’s a good way to burn off frustration. i do them all the time when i’m annoyed.”

“maybe i should start,” you mutter, narrowing your eyes. “because i’m annoyed right now.”

jungkook grins like the demon he is. “great! i’ll grab my mat.”

before you can stop him, he’s already turned back into his apartment. you briefly consider running, but it’s too late.

this is your life now.

five minutes later, you’re on the floor of his apartment, struggling to do one (1) push-up while he effortlessly does twenty in the same time it takes you to collapse in defeat

you feel like someone has bathed you in sweat

“this is humiliating,” you groan, face smushed into the mat

maybe you should’ve just slept

“nah, you’re doing great,” he says, way too cheerfully for someone torturing you. “just three more and you’ll hit... like, five total.”

you debate throwing a dumbbell at him but decide against it

jail isn’t worth it.

yet.

five minutes later you’re on the floor of his apartment, now two (2) push-ups deep and already regretting every decision you’ve made up to this point

you try again, your arms shaking with the effort, your brain screaming for mercy, when—

crack

“ow, ow, ow!” you yelp as your shoulder protests in a way that’s probably not supposed to happen

“that’s it, i’m dOne” you wince, face red from the sheer humiliation and pain

jungkook is standing there with a weirdly sympathetic expression that’s 90% amusement and 10% concern

he’s crouching beside you now, and you can't help but notice his Bambi eyes, all big and concerned, looking at your shoulder like he's actually worried for you

fml

this is so unfair

“u good?” he asks, voice unusually soft, and you can’t help but notice that barely there scar on his left cheek pulling slightly as he frowns and looks down at you

you glare at him, wincing a little more than you’d like to admit

does it look like ur good lol

“i think i pulled something” you mutter, still holding your shoulder, and mentally kicking yourself for agreeing to do this in the first place

you knew you shouldn’t have agreed to him

“mm,” he hums thoughtfully, his gaze flicking to your face, and then down to your shoulder with that gentle focus you didn’t think he was capable of

oUuu

“you should’ve asked for help, rookie” he says with that familiar cocky grin, but you catch the slight crinkle of concern in his brow, the mole beneath his lips almost beckoning you to stare at it

why is he so dumb but also so stupidly handsome?

and then his fingers are brushing against your shoulder again, carefully massaging the area in a way that’s too intimate for someone who’s just your annoying gym-obsessed neighbor

your heart rate spikes, and suddenly the injury doesn't seem like such a big deal anymore

“i’m fine, really,” you lie, trying to brush it off, but the way his Bambi eyes are looking at you—all soft and worried—has your head spinning

oh god

“i don’t think you are” he mutters, voice low, as he places a hand gently on your waist, pulling you just a little closer

god, stop being so touchy

the fact that he smells like musk and with some citrus-y notes underneath doesn’t help either

you feel your cheeks warming and lips parting

you feel yourself leaning in despite all logic telling you to stop, and then his eyes flicker down to your lips and back to your eyes, slow and cautious, like he’s waiting for your permission

you really cannot help but feel your heart skip a beat at how beautiful he looks. no like for real, his hair is slightly overgrown, curled at the ends which fall gracefully over his face

and how soft his lips look

your brain is too far gone, and the next thing you know, you’re kissing him, hand tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer

his hair feels so silky soft

but his lips are even softer, but there’s a desperate edge to the kiss, and you don’t know if it's because of your injury or the fact that you’ve both been playing this weird tension game for far too long

you feel like u can finally die kissing him like this

his hand slides down your back, pressing you into him as if you might disappear, and you pull away, gasping for air

jungkook’s eyes are wide, his pupils blown and heavy-lidded, his chest rising and falling quickly as he looks at you with an unreadable expression

“shit, i… i didn’t think i was actually going to do that” he murmurs, his voice rough and nearly trembling if u hear closely

you stare at his lips again, the mole under them, the way he looks so dumb but also so dumb handsome

his mouth parts to say something stupid again but you shush him with your pointer on his lips

“shut up and kiss me again, you idiot” you mutter, pulling him back in without a second thought

oH WOW

Jungkook doesn’t need any more encouragement. this time, it’s all teeth and heat, a kiss that feels like it might burn the air around you both

and your shoulder? completely forgotten, left in the dust

the kiss doesn’t end in some grand, romantic crescendo like the movies promised

you both were shamelessly making out on his mat

you were perched on his lap and both of u were busy eating eachother’s mouths (it sounds gross but that’s what exactly u two were doing) when suddenly you give his hair a tug

and you hear a moan spilling from him

his hips buck up and you gasp, but it ends with him abruptly pulling away

he’s breathing like he just ran an hour on the treadmill. cheeks all flushed, lips shining with saliva and eyes wide

and your heart is hammering in your chest like it’s trying to escape

jungkook stares at you, lips slightly swollen, eyes wide and wild, and for once, the idiot looks just as lost as you feel

“i—uh—” you stammer, the words tangling in your throat because what the hell are you supposed to say after something like that

“y- yeah,” he cuts in, his voice rough and strained like he’s been punched in the gut, “same”

same? SAME?!

you glare at him, more out of panic than anger, because suddenly the room feels too small, and his scent—something annoyingly musky and Jungkook-ish—is now overwhelming you

“i, uh, should go” you blurt out, scrambling to your feet and clutching your sore shoulder like a lifeline

jungkook doesn’t stop you, just sits there on the floor, looking up at you with a furrowed brow and an expression you can’t quite place

“cool” he mutters, dragging a hand through his messy hair as his jaw clenches

you don’t say anything else, don’t even look back as you practically bolt out of his apartment and into the safety of your own, slamming the door shut behind you

breathe, you tell yourself, leaning against the door, your heart still racing, your lips still tingling from his kiss

you won’t lie, you really didn’t think it would take just a tug of hair to have Mr. Muscle moaning under you

and that kind of inflated ur ego too

>:-)

but now

as u stand behind your closed door

the warmth that had filled your chest moments ago is quickly replaced by a knot of confusion and panic

because this wasn’t supposed to happen, not with Jungkook of all people

he’s my annoying gym-rat neighbor. this is… this is stupid

or is this really?..

no matter how much you try to convince yourself, your fingers keep brushing your lips absentmindedly, and your brain replays the moment over and over again like some kind of cruel joke

the next morning, you half expect him to blast his gym playlist at full volume to piss you off like he always does

but it’s quiet

too quiet

jungkook doesn’t blast music. doesn’t clank weights around. doesn’t do anything to make his presence known, and it’s driving you insane

you don’t know why it bothers you so much, but it does

when you leave for class, you catch a glimpse of him locking his door, but he doesn’t even glance your way

just slings his backpack over his shoulder and walks off like you don’t exist

asshole

yea that hurt. a Lot. like a good amount, because you are sure that you felt that pain in the centre of your chest

but it’s not like you’re any better

you bury yourself in your textbooks, pretending the kiss never happened, even though your stupid brain refuses to let it go

your chest feels tight every time you hear his door open or his voice filter through the thin walls

and you hate how you feel disappointed every time he doesn’t acknowledge you

like you really are a stranger to him

:-(

it’s pathetic, but you can’t help it

the silence between the two of you stretches on like an invisible barrier

days pass, and the two of you become masters of the fine art of avoidance

there’s a strange art to it, like walking on eggshells in your own apartment

even if u two live in separate apartments, it just feels

weird

you are so used to him being so noisy and what not

but the silence is heavy, uncomfortable, like an unfinished sentence hanging in the air

and it’s clEar neither of you know how to handle whatever the hell this is

you can’t figure out whether it’s a relief or suffocating

and every time you pass him in the hallway or see him through your apartment window, it’s like a silent conversation you’re not having

and that, somehow, feels worse than everything else

you want him to say something. anything.

but he doesn’t

and neither do you

and it makes you sick how easy it is to fall back into the rhythm of pretending he doesn’t exist

even when he’s right there.

you go to class and he’s there

sitting three rows ahead of you like he’s deliberately trying to ignore you

and with that girl who cannot seem to have her hands off his bicep

and you’re… fine with it

totally fine

you are just hoping that your glare is enough to burn a hole in her skull

it’s just that you can’t stop staring at the back of his head

like maybe he’ll turn around and say something but nope

the entire lecture passes and he doesn’t even glance over

and you try not to overthink it but you’re pretty sure jungkook is doing the same thing to you

ignoring you

on purpose

you’re not imagining it, right?

lunch rolls around and you sit down at your usual spot

jungkook’s sitting at the table next to you with his back to you

he doesn’t even look up when you sit down

normally, he would’ve sent you a little half-smile or asked about your day or whatever. .

but now? nothing

it’s like you’re invisible

and that’s fine. you don’t care.

but deep down, you feel this weird lump in your chest

because you didn’t expect this coldness from him

even after everything that’s happened

and you’d even unconsciously brought his favourite flavour of chips he especially likes..

:(

then you see him texting on his phone

and you can’t help but peek over at his screen

jungkook is texting someone

and it’s not you

for some reason, that stings more than it should, but you swallow it down and pretend you didn’t notice

the silence between the two of you stretches out for days

it’s like the entire universe is pretending you never had that moment together

the night when everything took a wild ass turn

but jungkook’s acting like it never happened

and so are you.

and maybe, just maybe, that’s better

maybe he regrets kissing you.

maybe you even made him uncomfortable?..

and maybe this is easier

you can’t decide if it hurts or if you’re just overthinking it

either way, you stop checking his texts, stop wondering what he’s doing in his apartment

you try your best to pretend it’s okay

but deep down, you miss the stupid moments

the ones where he wasn’t so distant where it feels like something ended between you two before it could even start.

it feels like it’s been over a decade

:(

and you hate it.

but you push it aside

it’s just… the silence is way too loud now.

you’re sitting in your room, trying to convince yourself that letting go of jungkook is the right thing to do

and perhaps ur failing miserably lol

but it’s hard because every five minutes you catch yourself staring at something that reminds you of him

your notes? he doodled on them during lectures

your hoodie? yeah, it’s his. he lent it to you one day and never asked for it back

your heart? yeah. he kind of stole that too

you’re spiraling between sleep and insanity when there’s a knock on your door

no, wait—it’s not a knock

it’s banging — like someone’s fist is about to break through the wood

WHO CALLED THE COPS ON YOU ONG

you jump up, your heart pounding, and open the door

and there he is

jungkook—standing there, looking like he just ran a marathon and fought a bear at the same time

hair all messy, slight bags underneath his eyes and kinda disheveled outfit

for a split second, you freeze, your breath catching in your throat

oh

it’s been weeks since you’ve seen him, and suddenly having him standing in front of you is making your heart race like crazy

“i can’t—” he stops, breathless, hands on his knees like he’s about to collapse

you’re standing there, eyes wide, totally taken aback by the sight of him, feeling a mix of relief and something else you can’t quite place

yet

“i can’t take it anymore,” he says, looking up at you with that ridiculous face of his

you grab that meaty bicep of him, ushering him to stand up

“what are you talking about?” you ask, completely confused

“you. i’m talking about you,” he says, taking a step closer

hUH

the air around you feels like it’s being sucked out of the room

your head is spinning because after all this time, here he is, right in front of you

“i like you. i’ve always liked you. and i didn’t know how to tell you, so i…”

“i got all this gym equipment just to bother you. i’d turn the music up way too loud, and i thought that’d make you notice me. i sat next to you at lunch, even in lectures, doing everything to annoy you because i didn’t know how else to approach you, i really thought—”

“jungkook.”

you blink, processing everything in a blur, your heart still hammering in your chest

but he doesn’t quite listen to you. “i knew you liked my sketches we had during cardio lectures, so i always made sure to draw—”

“juNGKOOK!”

you cut him off, smacking his idiotic shoulders “you’re an idiot.”

jungkook stops, eyes widening a little, but there’s this look of relief on his face

like a huge weight has just been lifted off him

almost like when u get to pee after holding it in for hours

“i know,” he says softly, and for the first time, you realize how vulnerable he looks standing there

he somehow looks

small.

“then why didn’t you just talk to me like a normal person?” you ask, your voice a mix of exasperation and amusement

jungkook smiles sheepishly, his pearly whites flashing. “i guess i thought this would be easier.”

easier.

only if he knew that each moment without him felt like the earth opening up and swallowing you

AND!!! HIS FAVOURITE ONION VINEGAR FLAVORED CHIPS!! which used to be your absolutely hated flavour but somehow you’ve caught a liking to them recently

how ironic

the room feels heavy with tension as you both stand there, unsure of what to say next, but his gaze is so intense, it makes your heart skip

“say something,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “please.”

you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, still flustered, but there’s something about his earnestness that makes everything else fade into the background

and the way his caramel brown eyes nearly sparkle underneath your dimly lit apartment lights

you shake your head with a smile.

“you’re an idiot.”

but you're smiling like a total fool because what else are you supposed to do when the guy you’ve been in love with just confessed to you?

jungkook’s face softens, and then he smiles too

a smile which looks so adorable you feel your heart will burst

and it’s over for you

“so, uh…” he scratches the back of his neck, looking bashful. “does that mean you like me too?”

you roll your eyes, your heart racing all over again, and grab the front of his shirt to pull him inside

“kiss me already”

the door slams shut behind you.

and the rest

as they say, is history

:-)

a/n : i love them bad :’(

mlist | let me know what you think anonymously :))

[fandomnerd9602]

A Date Date

Wolf!Natasha x Reader

You have been dating your best friend and wolf pal, hybrid Natasha Romanoff for the past week or so. And honestly, it was the best week of your life.

Natasha really furnished her cave on the Westview sanctuary complex site. She put in the couch, the kitchenette, the flatscreen TV and of course, the foosball table. You still have bragging rights over beating her the first time you played.

And Natasha didn’t simply get much alone time, though because well, Natasha shared the cave with her sister and fellow wolf Yelena. not that you were complaining or anything. You and Natasha were happy to take your relationship slow. You were best friends before all these uncovered feelings.

Your mind couldn't help but think about how most of your time together was spent in the cave or on the sanctuary grounds. Natasha was an amazing girlfriend, she deserved to be treated like a queen.

"Hey (Y/N)" Yelena said, stirring you from your thoughts, "you gotta take Nattie on a date"

"Yeah I should!" you agreed, "i'm dating the most spectacular girl in the world and I want everyone to know!"

"That and I need my sleep" Yelena huffs, "you two kissing and cuddling keeps me up. Love is so gross."

You simply left the break room and made your way to your office. You began researching little events you could take Natasha out to. One certain little event caught your eye. It was perfect! It was local and it was something that you knew Natasha would love! You bought the tickets and made your way next door to your wolf girlfriend's office.

“Hey Nat,” you walked into her office a little uneasy yet confident

“Yes malysh?” She asks her tail swishing happily at the sight of you.

“There’s a community theater production of Swan Lake this Friday.” You explain, “and I wanted to know if you wanted to see it with me”

A small smile makes its way across her lips, “are you asking me on a date, malysh?”

“Well I am your…and I want to..to…” you find yourself stuttering nervously. Natasha gets up from her chair and saunters over to you, giggling.

She wraps her arms around your neck and her wolf tail around one of your legs. “Of course. I would love to go with you. I l or ballet.”

She kisses your cheek.

“It’s a date” you blush, “our first official date”

“First of many I’d say,” she whispers in your ear before placing small peck to your lips. “Dress nicely”

“I-I will” you answer back.

Friday had arrived. You and Natasha had agreed to meet at the community theater. So you got yourself ready in your own apartment. You got a nicely tailored outfit and got yourself ready.

Meanwhile, Natasha was in her cave trying to find the right outfit. She found herself muttering in Russian as Yelena walked in.

“You’re muttering again,” the blonde wolf smirked at her redheaded sister.

“Don’t just stand there!” Natasha whined, “I need to find the right outfit here! It’s my first date with my malysh!”

Yelena grips her sister’s arms. “Listen here sestra, (Y/N) loves you. So much. Like you could wear a paper bag and they would see you as a goddess”

“Thank you,” she whispers back, hugging her sister tight.

Yelena shoves an outfit package into Natasha’s hands. “Here wear this.”

“What? How?”

“I bought it for you as soon as I found out you two were into each other” Yelena shrugs and leaves.

Natasha made her way to the community theater. She was practically stunned to see you waiting for her on the steps to the theater in that nicely tailored outfit. How it fit you just right.

You were in shock, seeing her in that grey dress. How it hugged her curves and allowed her wolf tail to swish freely. The grey highlighted her red hair and the red fur of her tail and ears.

“Hey” she smiles as she walks up to you, “you look delicious”

“I could say the same about you,” you respond, “you look amazing. The dress’ color suits you”

Natasha hums in contentment. You offer your arm which she gladly takes. The two of you walk up the steps to the theater arm in arm.

You take your seats and enjoy the rest of the evening holding hands. The ballet was pleasant. Natasha keeps whispering all the techniques and styles of ballet that she remembers from her youth. You loved seeing how her eyes lit up and how passionate she was for the art.

The crowd cheered as the demonstration of Swan Lake came to an end. You could hear Natasha’s stomach growling.

“Sorry I didn’t eat before coming here” she blushes in embarrassment.

“To the nearest diner!” You say in an over the top heroic voice as the two of you rush off hand in hand. The two of you laughed and giggled the whole way to the diner.

You and Natasha would go on to have many more dates. And each and every one of them just made you fall deeper and deeper in love with your redheaded wolf girl.

Tags: @lifespectator @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @ma1egamer @russianredassassin @aloneodi @ab1nsur @julieromanoff @revanshand @moonlit-imagines @moonlit-ficrecs @multi-fandom-enjoyer @texaswolf23

[superbdragoncollection-stuff]

The best roommate I had was the one who was never there.

The first one i had was a frat boy only child who got frustrated by me HAVING A COLD. Exaggeration? No. He literally left a note on my bed with the words "I'm annoyed by you coughing all day". When he moved out, he left a note saying "[superbdragon] sucks balls" in the floor group chat and left the chat.

The second was never there.

The third was a crazy ex Christian who seemed fine but turned out to have really creepy controlling tendencies. We had several arguments and I wouldn't be caught dead rooming with him again. And the rest of the suite were a bunch of assholes who threw parties and complained.

The next two weren't roommates but they were suitemates. They threw a fit because I wasn't applying literal hotel standards of cleanliness to the bathroom. As in, multiple friends and family were baffled that these two wanted the toilet SPOTLESS every single day.

The next three were some of the worst. I am not convinced one of them didn't have scurvy because I've never seen that much blood regularly come out of a cis man who smoked against room codes, and the freshest food he ate was frozen steak. The other two were two blonde guys with neck beards who looked so identical, when one introduced himself, I didn't realize I was talking to a different person until I shook his hand. I am face blind, but in my defense, THEY LOOKED AND SOUNDED IDENTICAL. They even had the same background and degrees! they both took road trips that summer and had really concerning takes on history!

Actual quotes.

"nazis are good for one thing, fighting communists"(factually incorrect)

"the only problem with nukes is we aren't using them enough"(even more factually incorrect)

One of them said he didn't like "politics" and preferred to talk about the interwar period vehicles and weapons. the 1920s and 30s. Which is an EXTREMELY concerning thing to say considering EVERYTHING HE JUST SAID.

Also in my opinion that era of aesthetics can be kinda ugly.

Being against violence can be really... trying sometimes

i fucking hate people who are like "no one has a right to live alone, just have roommates if you can't afford it, i had them for so long" etc because every single person my age that i know has a horrific roommate/housemate story. i genuinely believe that being able to afford living alone is deeply important for human dignity and also like, sanity, and i also think you should be able to throw your roommate out of a window if needs must

[coeurify]

“it’s november.”

the words have you jumping, the unsolid, rounded edges of the stool you’re currently standing on wobble with the movement of your foot. a squeak follows, rushing to find your balance— which is fine so by pressing your hand against the wall you were trying to reach the top of.

the hand that’s currently holding a string of multi colored christmas lights, the green trail of side dropping below you, your stool and the wall you had already pinned them to.

“it’s november,” the voice repeats— belonging to your girlfriend ellie, who walks behind you and peers up. the sweater she wears is pushed up to her elbows, pooling the cloth in a way that makes her look a little silly. as silly as the tone of voice she uses as she continues her obvious teasing. “and you’re already putting christmas lights up?”

your lips pout out immediately at the words, huffing as you press your sock clad feet. “november is almost over el. this is an absolutely valid time to put these up.” you wave your hand holding the clump of lights around, much more steady on your little wooden stool you were using for some added height.

“babe, thanksgiving hasn’t even passed,” ellie continues— and you can see her shaking her head even out of the corner of your eye as your head turns back to the wall— jaw clenching as you press up on your toes again to hand the light over the next pin. the small chuckle that the sight of you struggling to reach the spot seems to bring only annoys you more— head snapping to look over your shoulder with a look ellie liked to call your ‘scary eyes.’

“you can’t even— baby you can’t even reach. how did you get all that up?” ellie tries not to laugh but she can’t help it, the bursts of giggles slipping from her lips before she can stop them, green eyes trailing over the soft and cozy living room you two shared. somehow, alone with your little shitty stool.. you had covered at least half of the room while she was napping. “let me help,” she offered, a hand reaching out to steady your leg.

“no!” you complain, kicking your leg out a little to shrug off her hand. it only brings the wood below you to rock some more, which makes ellie grip a little harder. “you’re being judgy. i don’t want your help.” you sound petulant, maybe a little hurt by her amusement that you were doing this now.. alone.

“i am not being judgy,” ellie soothes her hand over your leg as you reach forward and successfully hook the sting of wired lights over the next spot. “you are, and you’re basically the same height as me— you can’t reach shit either.” you continue, the dig at her height a teasing one, paired with an eyebrow raise and fleeting glance back at her.

“ow?” ellie’s free hand clamped over her chest in faux hurt— the ragged cut strands of deep auburn hair shaking with her head. you find yourself watching the movement and fighting away a smile. “i meant by keeping you steady but if you wanna be mean i can totally let you do it all.” ellie pinches your leg over the fuzzy sweatpants you’re wearing. if it was anyone else you might be a little worried she was actually hurt.. but you can hear the humor seeping into her words and drawing out her sentences.

“fine,” the sigh that comes with the tingle word makes it seem like this decision was just absolutely the most difficult one you’ve had to make— the dramatics always evident. “i guess you can help. but only if you quit saying i’m doing it too early.”

honestly, you had planned to finish this little light hanging before she was done with her nap. she worked a long day with joel, you wanted to surprise her. and okay.. maybe you had seen one or two too many videos about the holidays that had given you the itch to decorate something and right then. but clearly the surprise element was lost, and ellie’s sarcastic taunting had replaced it. so now maybe you’re doing it out of spite. who knows, maybe you’ll even put on the santa clause after.

ellie’s fingers raise to her mouth, fake zipping them and nodding quickly. the urge to roll your eyes is one you act on, scoffing at her before you turn again and feel the steady warmth of her hands on both of your legs now, shifting you a little bit further down the wall for the next spot.

your lip falls between your teeth again, toes straining against your feet as you push as high as you can to get the next spot and—

“okay but you can admit most people wait for after thanksgiving right?”

“ellie!”

[subcultureblues]

Don’t You Want Me (Baby?) Pt 3

———

Steve and Eddie are either hooking up or dating - and are about as bad at keeping a secret as they are dealing with their feelings. (Dustin POV)

1 / 2 / 3

———

“I’ll be there in thirty!” Dustin said. He slammed the phone down and dashed to his room to round up his notes.

“Bye mom love you gotta go!” He shouted as he hustled out the door and jumped on his bike. Dustin had just made it out of the suburbs and into town when he spotted a familiar Maroon Beemer in the lot by the Quickie Mart.

Steve was standing beside his car in a fluorescent windbreaker, leaning on the open driver’s side door. He was staring at the bouquet of flowers in his hands like his nose was about to start bleeding.

Dustin slowed.

….He could probably spare a few minutes to see what the hell that was about.

Really, it’s been a while since Dustin made peace with the fact his curiosity would almost invariably get the best of him.

“Hey Steve!” Dustin hollared, dinging his bike bell a few times.

Steve startled, comically jerking to attention. As a thoroughbred jock, Steve could be ever so slightly air-headed at times. But that usually didn’t extend to a total lack of situational awareness.

Steve waved at Dustin as he approached.

“Why are you angry at those flowers?”

“What? I’m not - “ Steve cut himself off with a sigh. He shot the flowers another grimace. “I’m just trying to decide if I’m being a total idiot right now…”

Ah, Dustin realized. Must have pissed off Robin.

“What happened?”

“I fucked up, I think. And flowers, that’s my go-to right? That’s the move. But…” he tapped above his temple with the side of his fist - as if to dislodge the stupid. He rested it there for a second. “I can’t help but think I’m becoming totally neurotic.” He said, vaguely concerned.

“Girls like flowers.” Dustin offered a simple shrug.

“Yeah, girls do.” Steve agreed. Then sighed again, shaking his head.

Jesus, he must be gone bad.

And Dustin likes Robin. More importantly, he liked her for Steve, they were a perfect match. But most importantly of all - if Steve fucks this up, Dustin spends the next who knows how long listening to him complain about his endless strings of unfulfilling dates.

“And red roses? Can’t get more romantic than that, right?” He said, trying to sound encouraging.

“You don’t think they’re… I don’t know. Lame? Christ, what the hell am I even - I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing here.” Steve said, sounding totally defeated. He dragged a hand through his hair, displacing his artfully styled do. And too distracted to even notice? Dustin was very nearly starting to get worried. “Never mind forget it. Just, forget I said anything…”

“Who even is this guy? Your Steve.” Dustin scoffed. “Legendary lady killer of Hawkins High. Remember? You’re great at this.”

““Yeah, that’s different though. I guess... I don’t know.”

“Different how?” Dustin demanded.

“How about because this is important. That’s how!” He said.

“Ok? That’s a good thing, Steve.” Dustin said, which even to his own ears sounded just a little bit demeaning. Maybe he did need to work on his tone…

“Is it? The last time I really thought there might be something there, it was Nancy. So of course, I manage to fuck the whole thing up. Because that’s my thing I guess.” He deflated. Then quietly, as though speaking to himself, he said. “Things were going so good too… I just had to start a stupid - “

He finally looked back up at Dustin. He closed his mouth and the far away look cleared. He shook his head, like was done thinking about it right now. Or at least done talking about it because he said,

“Henderson, what are you doing running around this early anyways?”

“Pft, what are you doing running around this early? You and Eddie. I’m surprised you’re not sleeping off your… illicit activities.”

Steve made a face. “No. Don’t call it that. I - we… called it an early night last night.”

“Figures. I’m headed to Eddie’s right now.”

“Ah...” He muttered to himself. He looked down at the flowers again and his shoulders wilted. Then he chucked them into the the passenger seat.

“Woah, man, careful with those.” Dustin scolded him.

“No, it’s fine. Look, I gotta go pick up Robin soon. We have a shift together later. See you around, man.”

Dustin frowned. Why were adults so goddamn weird? Is Dustin gonna start acting like this in a few years.

“Good luck.” Dustin offered, tilting his head optimistically. Steve just waved him off, still very obviously distracted.

“Yeah, I’ll figure something out.”

Dustin watched him climb into his car. Steve would figure it out. Dustin had faith in that, at least. He could have a thick skull, but give him enough time and eventually he got it together.

Steve drove off and Dustin started pedaling again, in the opposite direction, towards the Forest Hills trailer park.

Dustin was at the trailer almost till dinner time, fine tuning what will soon be the very first one shot, nay the very first D&D session Dustin will ever orchestrate. He can’t help violently oscillating between excited and nauseous, but Eddie’s advice genuinely did provide a solid foundation to work with.

Eddie even assured Dustin he’d act just as shocked as the rest of the party, gasping during the big moments. Stuff like that - even though he knew pretty much every story beat he had planned just from helping Dustin sort it all together.

They were just packing up to leave when the phone rang.

“Shit. Give me a sec. That’s probably Wayne.”

“He’s not at work?”

“A buddie’s house. He got the weekend off.” Eddie said, picking up the receiver.

“Munson’s Mortuary Services. You got the purse, we got the hearse. Are we picking up or dropping off, cause - ” Eddie cut out mid bit. He grimaced, looking back at Dustin. “I - uh, hey. Look this really isn’t a good - “

Dustin was only really half ease dropping as he tried to order his session notes correctly. Eddie was talking quietly for the first time in his life, holding the receiving close to his mouth, which was making it kind of difficult.

“No, it’s fine… I’m serious, it’s fine. Yeah, I’m sorry too…. Well, I was being an asshole. Look this really isn’t a good time…” Eddie glanced back over his shoulder at Dustin. Dustin tried to look busy. “Just, don’t worry about it, seriously…. Yeah. Sure, talk to you later, ok?” Eddie started to move the phone away before bringing it back to his ear.

“This week? I’m not sure… Maybe. I’ve just - I got a lot of stuff going on… I’ll call you… Yeah, bye.”

Eddie hung up, hand lingering on the phone for a long moment.

“Who was that?” Dustin asked, so casually it was probably immediately suspicious.

“Funny how you think I won’t make you walk home.” Eddie said, a bone dry threat. That roughly translated to, it was definitely totally my secret girlfriend. “Pack your shit, dude. I’m calling Wayne so you better be ready to go by the time I’m done.”

It seemed like Eddie took it to heart what Dustin said about them never hanging out anymore. That week, Eddie really seemed to be making an effort to start making time for him again.

And the rest of the party of course.

On Monday, Eddie suggested Hellfire (plus Max!) hit the arcade after school. He didn’t give them any quarters, but that was fine, they had enough loose change to have a good time. They’d just need to plan ahead and bring Steve next time.

After school on Tuesday, Dustin called to see if Eddie wanted to keep working on the one shot. Which he couldn’t cause Corroded Coffin had band practice.

So instead, he invited Dustin tag along. It came with the strict stipulation he kept his mouth shut, his ass glued to the couch, and he not try to touch anything, on pain of a swift and merciless death. But Dustin’s come to understand Eddie’s threats have a lot more to do with his penchant for dramatics than any honest hostility.

Eddie was just heading out the door when Dustin called so he said he’d come grab him from his place on the way to Jeff’s.

Dustin thought for a moment about changing out of his pun-derful shirt but ended up scrapping the idea for time.

He kind of regretted it when Eddie rolled up. Music loud and looking, as always, too cool for school. Summer was still fading, so he was wearing a loose, faded Cult shirt with the sleeves cut off. He had more tattoos than Dustin realized (all of them ugly.). There was a red flannel tied round his waist and he was wearing a thin leather bracelet.

Dustin couldn’t pull off a leather bracelet in a million billion years probably.

“Little mans sitting in on practice tonight.” Eddie announced as they walked into Jared’s garage. He got a scatter of hey’s and what’s up’s.

Dutifully, Dustin belined it for the couch. He sat next to the plastic Halloween skeleton that was already sitting there posed to watch (Dustin was introduced to him as Manny).

Eddie seemed to switch into DM mode, someone had to keep the boys focused and on track.

Dustin sat still and didn’t touch anything, which was easy enough.

But come on, their music was way too awesome for a passive listening experience.

Gareth, Jared, and Jeff seemed to appreciate his enthusiasm. Still, Dustin made sure to keep distractions to a minimum. A reasonable minimum, at least.

“God, you guys are just so - “ Dustin rambled. It had gotten dark outside and they were started to pack up their gear.

“Metal?” Eddie said, winding up his guitar chord with a smile.

“Metal as hell.” Dustin agreed, standing and walking over.

“We’ll make a public menace outta you yet.” Eddie said proudly.

“You can always bring the kid around more during practice.” Jeff said to Eddie. The rest of the band nodded around and shrugged.

“Actually having a live audience every once in a while couldn’t hurt.” Gareth said, nodding his head at Manny. Him and Jeff were dragging his drum kit back into the corner of the room.

“Yeah?” Dustin asked, grinning.

“Maybe you’ll pick up a thing or two.” Eddie grinned back, shoving at him a bit and fucking up Dustin’s hair.

“You’d teach me?” Dustin asked, swatting him away. Eddie shrugged easily.

“Oh man. That’d be so cool!” He said. “Maybe next time I could bring some of the other guys? Oh, and Steve could come too!”

Jared practically choked on his instant laughter.

“The King?” He said sarcastically. “Yeah, sure - you wanna bring King Steve here, to sit on the ratty couch in my garage and listen to us thrash around and scream for a few hours?”

“I dunno, could be pretty entertaining.” Gareth elbowed Jeff, nodding down towards Eddie. He was on his knees, focusing intently on tucking his Warlock away in its hardcase. Gareth leaned in closer and whispered. “He’s getting a little too cocky with those guitar solos, don’t you think? Could use a chance to play under pressure.”

“Oh, that does sound entertaining.” Jeff snickered, just as amused by the prospect.

“Can it.” Eddie said, without looking up.

“Eddie?” Dustin insisted, looking to his DM for backup. They were talking like Steve was gonna march in here and just start heckling. Or throwing tomatoes at them or something.

“Sorry kid, they’re right. He’d probably hate it.” Eddie shrugged.

“Come on, it’ll be cool! I could at least ask? You don’t know he’ll hate it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Steve Harrington would think our heavy metal band is so totally cool.” Jared said flatly, as he leaned over to grab the handle on his bass amp.

“Hey. I saw a Metallica tape in his car the other day!” Dustin said to Jared. Jared’s eyebrows climbed, surprised. Maybe even a little impressed, though clearly too stubborn to admit it.

Dustin turned back to Eddie. He was still expecting him to come to Steve’s defense. But he stayed quiet, barely a part of the conversation. “Come on, I thought you two were friends now.” He accused.

“Sure, Harrington’s fine.” Eddie shrugged.

“Yeah he is.” Jeff muttered under his breath. Gareth puffed up with a badly contained laugh.

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Right, you blow us all off to go to go smoke weed with him at the drive through, but he’s just fine.”

Jared, who had been bending over to put his amp against the wall, froze in place.

“No fucking way.” Gareth’s head shot up, his eyes blown wide. But it didn’t sound like he was pissed at Eddie for crossing party lines. Not with the massive, disbelieving grin on his face. “You and Harrington? You fucking took him to a drive through?”

“What movie was it?” Jeff shot out, equally delighted.

“Was it a scary movie?” Gareth said. They both scrambled out from behind the drum set, their task wholly forgotten.

“Guys.” Eddie huffed. “Fine. Yeah, ok, we went to go see a movie - So what?”

“And you just, what!? Forgot to mention it?”

“Sure!” Eddie grimaced. He shrugged defensively. “We just - caught a movie. It’s not a big deal.”

Gareth barked out a laugh. Like that, that right there, is the funniest thing Eddie’s ever said.

“Guys.” Jared looked at Jeff and Gareth pointedly, before glancing at Dustin.

“Sorry it’s just…” Jeff paused with his mouth open, incredulous. “Didn’t know you guys hang out now.” He finished. “Ya know, outside the whole - coparenting.”

“We don’t.” Eddie said, tensely.

Dustin frowned as he watched the guys continue to stow their shit. Gareth and Jeff went back to sorting out the drums. “Not a big - “ Gareth scoffed under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief.

The rest of the boys were struggling to contain shiteating grins and Eddie was just pretending not to notice.

Dustin had never known these guys to be such… jerks. Why would it be such a big deal if Eddie and Steve were friends?

Could it really be all because they’re just so - different? The idea of hard rocker Eddie kicking back with a jock even once was just patently absurd? Ridiculous enough they jump straight to teasing him for it?

Dustin’s frown deepened. For a bunch of freaks, that all seemed pretty judgmental.

These guys would come around on Steve. Seems like Dustin would just have to make sure of it.

On Thursday Eddie agreed to pick him up from school.

He was late of course, so Will, Mike, Lucas, and Max had all started towards home by then.

When he did roll into the parking lot, it was in a sweeping wave of orchestral heavy metal.

“Pick it up.” He said impatiently, as Dustin opened the door. Eddie evil eyed the school building while he turned down the music. “Don’t like being here any longer than I need to be outside D&D hours.”

Dustin hopped in. He had a VHS copy of Jaws in his hands. He had left it behind at Lucas’ like two weeks ago and promptly forgot about it. A week later Lucas brought it to school and Dustin had only just re-unearthed it from his locker today. It was daunting just thinking of the fees that were sure to be stacking up by now.

His only salvation was Steve. Who’s thankfully working today.

“I need to drop this off at the movie store and before you say no - “

“Sure.” Eddie said, already starting the van.

“I - that was easy.” Dustin sat back and relaxed against the seat.

Eddie kept his eyes on the road and shrugged.

“I was thinking about renting something anyways.”

They drove straight to Family Video. The door dinged as they walked in.

Robin was sitting behind the counter. Still focused on her crossword she said, “Hi, welcome to Family Video, can I help you find - Oh, hey guys.”

“Hi Robin!” Dustin said, walking up to the counter.

Eddie lingered by the displays. He traced a finger over one of the tapes on the shelf. “Harrington, here?” Eddie asked, inspecting the cover.

Robin rolled her eyes but she was smiling. “You just missed him. It was seriously slow today and he won rock/paper/scissors so - he clocked out early for the day.” Eddie hummed and put his hands in his jean pockets.

Dustin handed Robin his VHS tape.

“This is eight days late.” She frowned at the computer.

“So - “ Dustin said, thinking fast to distract her from errant thoughts of late fees. “how’d you like the flowers?”

“Flowers?” Robin scrunched up her nose at him.

“The flowers Steve got you?” Dustin blurted out before he clamped his mouth shut again. She squinted at him. Suspicious.

“What are you on about?”

Shit. Steve hadn’t got those for Robin had he?

“Nevermind.” Mayday-mayday. Pull up!

Hopefully Steve wasn’t too pissed at Dustin for letting that little detail slip. And Dustin could barely feel bad for blowing Steve’s cover because, what the hell Steve?

Robin’s lip twisted. She looked down her nose at him, regarding him uncharitably. He forced a smile as she stared him down for a moment longer. Then her face cleared. Raising her eyebrows innocently she turned back to the monitor.

“So about that fee. That’ll be five fourty-“

“Ok! I - “ Dustin hesitated. Sorry Steve - that was five dollars he really did not have. “I don’t know. I ran into him a few days ago. And he’d just bought a big thing of roses.” Dustin caved, shrugging and holding his palms up defensively.

“Ooooh.” Robin’s eyes crinkled with a warm smile and her gaze slid somewhere behind Dustin shoulder. Then quickly snapped back into place.

“Oh.” Robin said again. She looked baffled, like the implications of that just hit her and clearly didn’t sit with her right.

“Maybe they were for his mom? His parents are in town aren’t they.” Dustin offered.

“You know what? Yeah, that’s probably it.” Robin nodded vigorously. The poor, love struck girl just immediately latching onto the explanation.

“Nah.” Dustin turned around to look at Eddie. He was still feigning intense interest in that copy of An American Werewolf in London. “His mom is allergic to roses.”

“That doesn’t mean he - ” Robin scrambled. “Maybe he just… forgot, or something. I mean, you know Steve. Total ditz.”

He shrugged. “That’s fine isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I mean, yeah.” Robin said cautiously. She seemed confused more than anything.

Eddie said cooly, hands still in his pockets. A perfectly neutral smile on his face. “Steve’s a free agent, right? He’s free to play the field.”

Jeez, did Eddie have to be so blunt? What ever happened to letting a girl down easy?

“Uh…” Robin said, looking between the two of them uncomfortably. Like maybe she didn’t quite know the answer to that anymore but it was also something she really didn’t want to sort out in public.

Dustin honestly felt a little bit bad for her. Sure they both always say they’re not dating, but clearly she seemed none too thrilled at the idea of Steve going around giving another girl flowers.

Dustin had hoped with the way Steve was talking the other day, he had finally got his head out of his ass and was ready to go public and make them official.

“Hey, man, I’ll meet you in the car, yeah?”

“Sure.” Dustin said.

“Eddie - “ Robin said. Eddie looked over his shoulder, lingering half way out the door. Robin glanced at Dustin. “Uh. Bye.” She finished lamely.

He smiled at her. She didn’t smile back.

Robin went back to the computer. She worked in complete silence. Suddenly the thick clack of the keyboard and the low murmur of the movie on the screen in the corner were way louder. Her brow was set like it gets when she’s stuck on a troublesome crossword.

“Sorry.” Dustin said, his face twisting up with guilt.

Robin glanced side long at him.

“I can talk to him you know.” He said.

“Huh?”

“I can talk to Steve. He shouldn’t do that to you.”

“Jesus, for the last time. We - are not - dating.” Robin said through gritted teeth. She made a frustrated noise. “Do you have to be so… ergh, meddlesome.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” He lied, taking a step back.

“You need to stay out of your friends love lives.”

Yeah well, how about Dustin stops meddling when his friends stop being so dumb about everything. Till then they’ll just have Dustin to thank for sorting out their messes.

Tag List : @reading-archieves @homoerotictangerine @bingbongsupremacy @aroseandherthorns-blog1 @wheneverfeasible @travelingtwentysomething @ineffable-monster-romancer @laughingphantoms @gregre369 @rawrx3ky-txt @thespaceantwhowrites @blcksh33p1987

@the-legal-shipper @maverickricky @i-amthepizzaman @pretend-theres-a-name-here @steddiefication @that-one-gay-crow @gleek4twd

@theintrovertedintrovert @tinyplanet95 @queercrisis2003 @awkwardgravity1 @stripey82

@sofadofax @midnightskeeper

@blurryjoji @estrellami-1 @caraspud @little-trash-ghost @finalmoondragon

@samsoble @depressed-freak13

[dollyonm0lly]

THINKING ABOUTTT

caracalla lusting after getas wife, crying because he can‘t have her and finally going to geta to propose having her marry him aswell

at first geta is against it because you‘re HIS property and sharing with his whiny stupid brother makes him angry but eventually he caves in

„but we can take turns“ caracalla whines and cries until geta gives in, the thought kind of entices him 👀

and you‘re absolutely not pleased, caracalla freaks you out but now you have to obey him aswell

TW: kinda of noncon, crazy Caracalla.

“This is a bad idea" is what you don't say, but it shows in your gaze as your eyes meet Geta's, he being a little further away from the bed where you are sitting, making it a little difficult to see him clearly in the partially dark room, only lit by the ambiance outside of the windows. Your eyes now wander towards the brother closest to you, Caracalla, who is standing in front of you, you try to ignore him, fix your head in the same position and keep it that way, your attention only on his detailed robe so close to you.

“She defies me” - Caracalla says to the wind, there is no immediate response, and you can't detect what the mood of his voice could be, neutral, perhaps? There are moments with Caracalla when you can feel all his emotions, he screams, cries, reacts violently and impulsively, and there are times when it seems like there is nothing... Nothing, you haven't felt anything of what might be coming now, what emotion he will show you next, and that scares you. He scares you. And when you feel a strange hand coming towards your face, unfamiliar, you don't think twice about dodging it, your head slightly hesitating back, running away.

You can feel your face sweating from the tension in the room, and you know you've screwed yourself after running from your Emperor's grasp. You hold still, your hands clenching the fabric of your dress, your knuckles white with the intensity of your grip. - "Stay still for him, dear” - You can hear Geta say in the distance, your heart immediately tightens in your chest in a feeling of betrayal, however, you don't seem to be the only one reacting badly to his words.

“Stop bossing her around, you're too bossy and I'm tired of it, and... And I talked to you about it! You said you'd share control over her, so stop trying to talk for me” - You hear Caracalla complain to his brother, his voice still a bit too steady for the stiff way he said them, you can see in your peripheral vision how he clench his own hands into fists as he speaks, and it doesn't help your nervousness one bit. Geta doesn't offer him an answer.

“Take off your clothes” - The older brother says as he turns his attention back to you, he seems to want to take on a commanding tone, but when you listen a little better to the edges of it, you can hear a slight whimper of a sulking child in the background of his words, as if he is begging you to obey him, and that, that is never a good sign with Caracalla.

You hesitate again, not moving a muscle. You feel numb, lost.

“WHY ARE YOU NOT OBEYING ME? WHY ARE YOU PRETENDING NOT TO LISTEN TO ME? I TOLD YOU TO TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES. WHY ARE YOU STILL IN PLACE? ARE YOU STUPID? STUPID, STUPID, STUPID” - There it is, what you hate the most, the screaming and the crying, the way he freaks out, and you are the target of it now, you feel a burning disgust in your body for your husband, you look for him in the room, and when your eyes meet, Caracalla notices, and misunderstands the situation - “Why... Why are you looking at him?? ARE YOU SEEKING AUTHORIZATION FROM HIM? I AM EMPEROR TOO! DO YOU FORGET? DOES EVERYONE FORGET? IS GETA EMPEROR ALONE? HE IS THE ONE EVERYONE LISTENS TO, EVERYONE PLEASES, EVERYONE RESPECTS…” - The older brother screams and screams in your face, and eventually, you can start to hear the strangled sobs in his voice, he's crying now and curling up in himself, you try not to roll your eyes at the crybaby in front of you, and you even think about talking back to him, when you're interrupted.

“Fuck it, just stand still then, stupid” - You hear him say in a harsh tone, and soon after, you feel his rough hand grab your entire face, throwing you back on the bed until your head hits the mattress. He climbs on top of you, and with so much access and advantage over your body, he begins to forcefully undress you, tearing the delicate nightgown of your body, throwing what are now rags to the bedroom floor, you scream and try to hide yourself with your hands, but it does little good when you see the excitement in the Emperor's eyes above you - “You are so beautiful, so beautiful, so beautiful, I'm so happy, brother! She is perfect” - He repeats, like a kid in a candy store, he examines you all over, forcing the hands that previously protected you from his intrusive gaze against the bed, holding you down, you squirm and try to kick him, but his weight on top of you makes your struggle more difficult.

“Make her feel good, brother, soon she will be less wary of you" - Geta says as he leaves the shadows from which he watched the whole scene, approaching the bed to sit on it, you hate the way his words treat you like an animal, how his eyes seem hungrier watching his brother attack you than when it's just the two of you alone, how his hand still dares to try to caress your face affectionately, resting it on top of your head like he always does. You feel like you could vomit right now. He senses it - “Her breasts are sensitive, why don't you try?" - He suggests, licking his lips in anticipation, watching his brother nod.

Caracalla still seems a little dizzy admiring your body, his own trembles with satisfaction just from seeing you, from feeling you so close, your eyes, your mouth, your skin, your smell, everything about you calls out to him, he can feel his body warmer than normal and his eyes fall as if he had never slept in his life, it feels like a dream. He pants through his mouth, seeming to prepare himself, slowly lowering, as if not to scare you, as if he doesn't scare you just by existing, his eyes never stray from yours, nor yours from his, what you think is rebellion on your part, he takes as affection.

At his first contact with your breasts, you feel a weak moan leave your lips, not yet prepared, seeming to forget that you should contain yourself, that you hate him, he leaves kisses down the center of your chest, slowly leading them to your left breast, kisses all over, and then to the right, kisses all over, he seems strangely affectionate compared to the outburst from seconds ago, he takes his tongue out, showing it off quite a bit to your suspicious eyes, and takes it to one of your nips, circling it, testing the waters, and reciprocating positively when you moan even with your lips closed. He closes his eyes as if enjoying a feast, let his tongue travel over you, and licks soon turn into sucking, it doesn't seem enough for him, he needs more, much more, he needs to have your entire breast in his mouth and suck it as if his life depends on it, release it with an audible 'pop' and then, go to the other one. And that he does.

Minutes seem like hours, you moan and moan, and not only you, you hear Caracalla moan as much, seeming to feel more pleasure in sucking your breasts than you in having them sucked, he pants and growls against them, bites them, and makes it seem as if he is not even stopping to breathe, too busy admiring your body as if to him you were God, he can't hold himself back, he has wanted this for so long, you were everything to him, still are, he can't believe he deprived himself of touching you for so long. You can feel him humping pathetically against one of your legs, his erection still under his red robe, he doesn't even care, he cries with pleasure as if he is already inside you, as if just rubbing himself like a dog against your thigh was a blessing, you can hear the cries and sobs again, the little whimpers, but now he seems to be in heaven on Earth.

“Make my brother happy, moan his name, dear” - You hear Geta whisper in your ear just for you alone to hear, something malicious and perverse in his voice, he seems to be entertaining himself watching, you can't see him well where you're lying, you wish you could, you wish you could see if he's touching himself by the image of his brother defiling you, you wish he'd bend down and capture your lips with his, you wish you could suck him off and bring him the satisfaction his brother is feeling at the moment. But the only thing you get are caresses in your hair, on your forehead, like a puppy that has done well.

“Ca- Caracalla…” - You say in a weak moan, uncertain of your own words, even as he begins to make you wet between your legs. You don't feel like yourself when the words leave your mouth, and maybe you've been out of your own body for a long time, you just hadn't realized it. You feel him writhe and moan in gratitude as he hears his name come out of your mouth, something wet smearing your leg. It doesn't take you long to realize that the sticky stuff is coming from Caracalla's robe, he's cumming inside his own clothes, just by humping himself against you. Next, you feel your chest wet, more tears probably, since you can hear him sniffling below you.

You unconsciously rest a hand on Caracalla's head, closing your own eyes.

[eerna]

I love vi so much that I’m so sad this happened to her. Like they “probably” wanted to convey that she’s gonna stick with Cait for a while by calling her a dirt under her nails but even writing that line rn is breaking my heart idk how everyone behnd that was just “yep that’s cool and so in character” this was the girl who said this city’s gonna respect to us someday and having a whole mental breakdown in front of Cait for how desperate her hometown place is in the “oil and water” scene. Im all here for caitvi but she loved jinx MORE THAN ANYTHING she’d die and kill for this girl why did the vice versa happen suddenly? Why did the writers discarded the legit CORE of her character, the one that was making her our vi, just to make her an extension of caitlyn. Not to say she’s probably still drinking as we see in the last scene why do they forced us to believe she’s gonna be ok cause she’s got Cait? Didn’t arcane prove us the whole time that love alone isn’t enough to make one healthy?

THANK YOU FOR MENTIONING THE GLASS IN THE FINAL SCENE BECAUSE I TOO WAS LIKE "WAIT IS SHE DRINKING AGAIN, CAN WE ELABORATE ON THAT" DBSBAJKBASKJ... I don't really have anything against her arc being that she needs to learn how to let people who don't want her to hold onto them go. Really, it's super unhealthy to keep obsessing over those who have left you behind, and I do think that the only way Vi could be happy is if she learned that lesson. Then, Jinx choosing to return to her would be all the more powerful. But the way we got to that point is just. Just really sad and not very good.

I saw the shippers complaining about the criticism of the final line and the jail scene by saying the critics just don't wanna see lesbians happy, but to me it's the opposite. I love Vi so much, she is my favorite character, and I absolutely wanted to see her happy, but I simply can't ignore what the story is telling me. Vi ISN'T happy. She is a prisoner in a system that treats her like shit, and she has made peace with it. She is humming a lullaby whose meaning is literally "Zaunites should be happy with Piltover's runoff and never ask for more", she is drinking, she is demeaning herself. The show tries to tell me she is happy, but that is not the emotion I am getting at ALL, because all the subtext points to the opposite.

[jungaji]

calla ❀˖°

boyfriend!jisung x composer gn!reader ♡

genre: comfort

calla, someone said that your time will be over soon

jisung watches silently as you flip through your music sheets again, your eyes distant, and fingers trembling. the weight of the notes scribbled across the pages being too much to bear, too heavy to carry.

"i can't do this anymore, sung," you murmur, voice brittle and fragile, much like a withering flower.

he doesn't respond immediately, letting your words hang in the quiet studio. his heart aches as he takes in the sight of your broken form—hair a chaotic mess, your favorite sweater wrinkled from days of wear, and dark shadows under your eyes from sleepless nights and tears that never seemed to end.

he's never seen you like this before, and it scares him.

it hurts him.

but calla, you can always grow back, oh

"my love," he says softly, hands reaching up to soothe your head, gently combing through your hair, smoothing the unruly strands that stick out.

you lean into his touch instinctively, finding comfort in the warmth of his hands, but your eyes remain fixed on the crumpled sheets in your lap. the music notes and lyrics blurring together, a cruel reminder of everything you think you've failed at.

he kneels beside you, gaze never leaving your fragile form and gently pries the crumpled pages from your hands.

you make a weak attempt to snatch them back, but jisung's grip is firm as his eyes meet yours—soft and filled with an unwavering warmth that cracks open the walls you've built around yourself.

"these notes aren't failures," he starts, his tone steady. "you're not a failure."

"but what if i am?" you whisper, voice cracking as tears start to well up in your eyes again.

"what if i'll never be able to write a song again?"

at your words, jisung's heart clenches, the weight of your pain pressing down on him. it frustrates him to see you like this—struggling and unsure, as if the spark that once burned so brightly in your heart has been put out.

if you don't have enough sunlight,

you used to live for composing. music called out to you in a way no one could understand. it was the love of your life—something jisung used to complain about, how you seemed to love your music more than you loved him.

but despite his endless complaints, jisung never resented it. he always supported you, loved seeing your passion for music, even if it meant he had to lose you to the studio sometimes.

gently, he pulls you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as his voice softens, "don't say that," he murmurs against your hair. "you have so much to give, my love. you don't have to see it all right now. you're not meant to have everything figured out at once."

hearing his words, you bury your face in his chest, trembling as your emotions flood through you. the ache in your chest feels endless, and the doubts eat away at you like an unforgiving tide.

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, cupping your face in his hands. "i'm here," he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "c'mon, we'll get through this. one note at a time."

i'll blow the clouds away, calla

jisung keeps you close, his steady warmth grounding you, and only when your sobs quiet into soft hiccups does he speaks again, his voice low and soothing. "do you trust me?"

you hesitate for awhile, thoughts still clouded with uncertainty, but you eventually nod against him.

he smiles softly, brushing away the tear-streaked hair from your face before reaching for the forgotten music sheets, picking up a pen and scribbling something in big block letters across the page.

curious, you sneak a glance at the page, reading the sentence: MARK'S HAD BAD DAYS TOO.

you blink a few times, re-reading the sentence and processing the absurdity, before bursting out into a fit of giggles. jisung joins, both your laughters filling the studio and pulling you back from the edge of your despair.

"what?!" he teases, grin widening as he watches you giggle. "it's true! mark's had bad days and he still wrote, like, 200 songs."

"you and your admiration for mark..." you tease, wiping the last of your tears away.

he watches you adoringly, gaze soft with nothing but affection in his eyes. "but i admire you the most. you know that right?" the sincerity in his voice settling deep in your heart, almost like a soft embrace that promises everything will be okay.

"i know," you whisper, squeezing his hand softly. "thank you for being here, sung."

authors note: dedicated to anybody who has been struggling/overwhelmed with their work! we can get through this together, ily <3 also happy belated birthday to my lele pie (i will write for you soon... one day...)

taglist ♡: @ldh0000 @haechyuckan

[sugarushwriting]

exotic dancer lee minho x reader

you just ended a relationship, your friends try to cheer you up

adult content featured, read at your own discretion

too lazy to proof read sorry

“come on it’ll be fun!”

“momo, you’re talking about male strippers!”

“ah ah, exotic dancers!” momo tsked.

momo and your three other friends dragged you into the strip club where the exotic male dancers were.

background context: you were just dumped by your fiancé of 6 months, who claimed he didn’t love you or wanted to be with you.

you both had dated on and off for 3 years, before he finally proposed 6 months ago. turns out he felt pressured and didn’t want to actually be with you anymore.

3 days ago you found him out in public with his new girlfriend. who yunjin did some digging on, and found your ex had been seeing her for 3 months.

while you two were engaged to be married.

it hurt you. you tried so hard to act like it didn’t, because truth be told, you weren’t actually happy with him. you also felt pressure and the need to be married.

you were in your late twenties, the only thing you had were your career and cats. although that was enough to you, it wasn’t enough for your parents. it wasn’t necessarily that they wanted grandkids, but someone who would take care of you once they pass on.

although you were independent, your parents didn’t want to see you grow old and alone.

inside, the club was all dark lights, poles galore, and shirtless men even more.

before taking a seat, you all stopped by the bar to grab drinks.

you weren’t complaining about the view, it’s just something you weren’t used to—or ever did.

“what am i supposed to do?” you asked lost, looking around.

momo led you and your friends to a booth, a pole and stage in the middle.

“relax, let the men dance for you, and tip!”

“do i touch them?”

“only if they invite you to.” momo winked.

you looked at the pamphlet on near the booth’s table, “it looks like this dancer’s name is, cat daddy?”

“mhm, he can be the daddy of my cat, any day.”

“sana, you don’t have a cat.”

“yes i do, and she’s purring right now.” sana laughed, mina, nayeon and momo joining in.

it took you a while to understand the innuendo, and you joined in the laughter, you all quickly quieting down when a man with cat ears came into view near the booth.

with a smirk, he bowed, his muscles showing off in the black sleeveless top he had on, and the tight black pants showing his strong thighs.

“i’m cat daddy, how can i help you beautiful ladies this evening?”

sana and mina fanned themselves, momo engaging in conversation with a pout, “our friend here just went through a terrible break up and could use a great distraction.” momo’s hands were on your shoulder to let the man know who it was.

“i’m sorry to hear that miss, but i can be of great service to distract you.”

“mhm, would you be a great service and give her a private dance? on me, of course, i’ll pay.” momo smirked, catching you off guard as your eyes went wide.

“mo—,” you went to say but she patted your bare thigh to get you to hush.

“of course, is the lady okay with that?” he turned to you, an eyebrow raised up. almost a little taunting or dare for you to say no.

“oh, yeah, i’m okay with that.” you replied.

with a smile, he grabbed your hand, your friends cheering in the back ground. the man led you in hand to the back, where many private rooms where, accompanied by a couple of guards by the main entrance.

“should i call you cat daddy? or is there another name i can use? or maybe you would like to know my name?” you rambled off. you ended up telling the man your name.

with a chuckle, he turned around to face you, a big smile plastered on his face. “i’ll all you kitten. fitting to my name, right?”

“i mean yeah—,”

“and you can just call me daddy.”

your eyes once again went wide, your body rigid at his words. not only your heart thumping in excitement, but also down south.

he pulled you into a vacant room, closing the door behind him, after turning the sign on the door, to say ‘occupied.’

he gestured for you to sit on the chair of the bed in the room.

you choose the bed as it looked the comfiest. “see, uh, i’ve never been at a place like this, so i don’t know what to do,” you rambled as you sat.

he never took his eyes off of you, like a predator stalking his prey.

you kept rambling, unaware of (or trying to ignore) him getting closer to you, soon his face right in front of yours, almost nose to nose.

“lay down kitten.”

“what—,”

you gasped when he forcefully laid you down, you suddenly sitting up on your forearms to look at him like he lost his damn mind.

that thought quickly went away, when he took off his shirt, almost teasingly, rolling his body as he did.

he pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, spreading your legs so he stood in between them. grabbing your hands, he held them against his abs, your fingers scratching along, his head tilting back as he moaned lightly from your cold touch.

he guided your hands up to his chest, and around his neck, as he leaned down to your ear. “if you let me, i can make you forget and feel real good for whatever that ex of yours did.” he whispered, sending shivers down your body.

he leaned back to look you in your eyes, you lost in his. he looked so innocent with those eyes of his, but you had a feeling, deep down, he wasn’t so innocent when it came to bed activities.

you smirked, “as long as the ears stay on.”

he smiled back knowingly, “mhm, kitten, i knew you had a side to you that was masked by that innocent act.” he kissed your neck, and whispered, “call me minho.”

minho kissed you once, before his hands grabbed yours again, this time to his pants, wanting you to help him take them off.

you didn’t expect your girls day to turn into a girls night, let alone a night where you end up at an exotic male dancers strip club.

you didn’t expect tonight to become so entranced by a man you didn’t know, to want to know his secrets, wants, and find out why he chose this job or life.

you for sure didn’t expect to have helped a man undress, leaving on his cat ears, and he undressing you of your short skirt and top.

and lastly, you didn’t even think tonight would end up with you on your back, in said club, in a private room, having said man licking between your folds like it was his last day eating on earth.

“oh—oh my,” you gasped then moaned, your hand shooting to minho’s fluffy hair, your back arching off the bed.

his tongue worked between your folds, nose nudging your clit, fingers used to spread you more open for him.

minho hummed and moaned, quietly showing his appreciation for letting him between your thighs.

for the way he was making you feel, you wanted to thank him. ex definitely forgotten, your mind focused on minho’s tongue, the noises, and the grips his hands now had on your thighs to keep you open as you kept threatening to close the closer you got to coming on his tongue.

“minho, i’m—i’m,”

“i know kitten, let go for me, mhm?” he hummed kissing your clit, before his tongue burrowed deep in your opening, you soon becoming over sensitive.

“fuck!” you gasped out, hand gripped tight on minho’s hair, as you tried to calm your racing heart, your chest up and down.

minho kissed up your stomach, to your naked chest, deciding against overstimulating you. for now.

he licked one free nipple, then the other. he continued his way up to find your neck, his teeth latching the skin for a teasing bite.

minho sat up, knees on either side of you, you reached up to his calvin klein boxers, your fingers teasing the band. it sent chills through minho’s body, his dick becoming harder with the touch.

“don’t tease me, kitten.” he warned through a moan.

you smiled, taking out his dick from the tight black boxers, him hard and tip red, already leaking a bit of precome.

with a lick, you lightly brush led your tongue against his tip, before leaving a kiss. you pulled away, your thumb rubbing circles on the tip.

no hesitation, minho scooted closer as smoothly as he could with his boxers around his thighs, and shoved his dick in your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with a gag.

you quickly adjusting yourself to his thickness, and grabbed minho’s ass in your hand as he did the work by rocking and rolling his hips against your mouth.

“that’s it baby, take all of me.” he moaned quietly, you getting wet by each second. you were ready for him to just ruin you between your legs. to leave his everlasting mark.

with spits of curses and moans, it didn’t take much longer until minho stilled and came in your mouth.

pulling out, some leaked from your lips, minho quickly running his tongue against the side of your lips before he kissed you, tongue forcing itself inbetween your lips, in your mouth.

spit mixing, sloppy and wet, minho slipped the boxers off of his thighs, never detaching his lips from yours. he laid over you, his tip teasing your folds and clit.

you bit his bottom lip, tugging it between your teeth. “ruin me. distract me more.” you wrapped your arms around his neck, as minho plunged his dick into you, no waiting for adjustment.

you let out a gasp at the intrusion, but the gasp was of pleasure, and minho hummed, loving the sounds from your lips.

“i’ll make you forget all about past men you thought could please you, kitten.” minho rolled his hips, to aim deeply into you as much as he could. he wanted to be slow first.

the way he rolled his hips, and whenever he did, hit the right spot in you.

“minho,” you squealed, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

“mhm that’s it kitten, scream my name. minho—daddy, will make you forget all about those pathetic excuses of past mistakes.”

you could speak, so you just nodded. eyes closed, as tears threatened to spill at how good he was making you feel.

minho suddenly changed his pace from slow to rough. his hips snapping back before forward, your thighs wrapped around him, thigh on thigh skin slapping.

minho pulled out, getting off the bed, before he tugged you along with him.

you brain was gone dumb, as he guided you to the chair, you gripped one of the arms of the chair, minho lifted your right leg to rest on the chair as the other stayed flat on the floor.

minho plunged into you from behind, the new angle, literally causing your own pussy to squeal along with you. you gasped, mouth wide open, as minho rocked his hips from behind you, fucking into you from behind. cheeks clapping, his hand wrapped around your throat, his veins on display, as his index finger forced its way into your mouth.

you sucked on his finger, his pace never faltering, you felt your pussy leaking from all the wetness coming from you.

his other hand snuck around your body, so two of his fingers could start adding pressure to your clit, sending you to the edge.

you didn’t mean to, but you slightly bit his finger, before screaming out his name. “minho!”

your brain and mind really turned to mush, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your vision going dark.

you came hard around his dick, sure leaving a ring of white around the base.

but minho’s thrusts became rougher and sloppier, as he chased his own. he was finally overstimulating you into oblivion and submission.

one of your hand gripped the chair’s arm tightly, the other gripping minho’s forearm, he gripped your chin so your head rested against his chest, your eyes facing him the best to your ability.

your body was in a position you didn’t know was possible, back arched so much, minho loved the sight in front of him.

he loved watching his dick disappear between your folds, your ass hitting perfectly against his hips.

with one last thrust, minho grunted, pulling out to leave his come on your backside. thick and warm, he breathed heavily, as if he ran a marathon. you nearly collapsed on the chair, but minho caught you to help you back to the bed, placing you on the bed.

he grabbed some wet wipes that were placed on a table in the room (next to the condoms you both ignored) and wiped his come off of you, and wiping between your thighs gently before he cleaned up himself.

“how, how am i supposed to walk out there like nothing happened?” you groaned out, struggling to sit up.

minho laughed, “you don’t, you do the walk of shame.”

“there was nothing shameful about that.” you grinned. “other than maybe fucking in a club.” you rolled on your back, laid out.

no time to rethink life choices or reminisce about what just happened.

you had to first put your clothes (and find your underwear), then think of how to exit while steady on your feet.

it wasn’t that you were in pain, but more so still over stimulated losing feeling in your legs.

“there’s an exit out back. you can tell your friends to pick you up there if you want to avoid lookers.”

you nodded. “best idea.”

minho, back dressed, cat ears still on, he walked out to find your friends. you quickly dressed, still not finding your underwear, but did your best to look presentable.

minho walked back to the private room. “they’ll meet you out back with a rideshare. is your place far?”

you shook your head, “we rented a hotel a block away. we live about 2 hours away from here.”

“different city to avoid people you may know?”

you nodded shyly. “yeah.”

minho walked closer to help you stand up, “kind of disappointing you live so far from me kitten. i would have loved to see you again.”

you felt hot, nearly blushing. “um, you don’t need to sweet talk me. you made me feel better and distract me.”

minho’s finger went to your chin, you lift your head up to look into his eyes, “kitten, if you think i do what i just did with you, with anyone, you’re mistaken.”

he kissed your lips tenderly. “why me?” you whispered.

minho shrugged. “honestly don’t know.” he smiled when you initiated a kiss this time. “promise to come see me, again?”

“mhm, maybe.” you teased. minho gripped your hips, and you chuckled, “okay, yes, i will.”

“good. especially since i know you’ll want your blue underwear back.”

[crguang]

imagine in kafka violinist AU, reader works in a classical music record store or maybe even an instrument store and kafka decides to check out the place and they meet after so long ☹️☹️

[ ok, i'm imagining it. this has no right being over 3,5k words but i swear sev and i do think of cute scenarios with them... sometimes. ]

“now i am stuck between my anger and the blame that i can't face, memories are something even smoking weed does not replace.”

//

She’s sixteen again, boredly waiting around with the back of her head against your locker and a biology textbook nestled in her arms. People walk by her impatient gaze holding hands firmly, complaining loudly so everyone shares their annoyance, half-asleep as they drag their feet across the school hallways, and she watches them pass her by in silent judgment. They are all so uninteresting, so mundanely boring, and her eyes soon grow hazy following the shift in her thoughts while she waits. She remembers the movie tickets she still has to buy behind your back before Friday, then tells herself she will have time to take the bus to the movie theater on Wednesday after class when neither of you have music practice. She knows you dislike horror movies, but she finds them funny and she really wants to see this one. You’ll refuse when she asks you to come with, then begrudgingly take her hand when she produces the tickets from her backpack because you feel guilty about her already spending money on an outing for the two of you. She forgot the leather gloves she loves so much this morning, too hurried to make sure they were indeed put in her coat yesterday evening, so she’ll ask for one of yours before heading to the bus stop. Despite it only being minutes away, you’ll absentmindedly throw it her way. She smiles to herself. Her head lowers and she takes a quick glance at the thin watch around her wrist: ten minutes until the final bell. You’re late. With a disgruntled noise at the back of her throat, she straightens up and adjusts the strap over her shoulder. She won’t stain her perfect attendance record because you missed your 7 AM alarm, she’ll demand explanations at lunch and enjoy how you avert your eyes from hers in embarrassment. 

You’re not sitting at the back of classroom 311B waiting for her with your lunch on your lap, and her lips curve downward into a displeased pout. You didn’t show today, then. She wonders if you got sick between last Friday and now and makes a mental note to come knocking on your door after practice, if only to make sure you’re still alive even if you’re moaning in misery. She drops her backpack on a chair, plopping down at a nearby desk. Her AP Maths homework is laid out on the surface and she spends the free hour getting ahead in her classes within the quiet room, her cheek lazily resting on her palm.

As her literature teacher expands on the use of literary devices in creative writing, she thinks she might bring something to your house later. You were weird Friday and you’re missing practice, she’s now sure you’re feeling unwell. Peach gummies should do it, maybe, you’re so easy to please. You still have that shitty drawing the both of you made together when you were eight plastered beside the album posters on your wall. She hates looking at it every time she comes over but you threaten to have it framed, so she rolls her eyes and ignores the glaring reminder of her attachment staring down at her mockingly. 

Kafka blinks rapidly and her vision instantly focuses on the fading tendrils of cigarette smoke swimming in the air in front of her. The roll is secure between her index and middle fingers, pointing towards the open back window of her sleek black car. She regains her bearings. Her gaze darts to the driver’s seat where Blade’s head leans back on the headrest, eyes closed and arms crossed as he awaits new instructions. Her lips stretch into a small smile at her ridiculous train of thought and she looks outside the window, bringing the cigarette back to her mouth. There’s nothing to see, only passersby and concrete buildings, the front doors of multiple stores aligned on the narrow street. She takes a slow drag and allows the tobacco smoke to sit on her tongue before exhaling softly. She calls it reminiscing during a moment’s reprieve, but that would require the act to be voluntary and peaceful. It’s happening more frequently recently, her mind escapes her for a few minutes as she smokes and it’s starting to defeat the purpose of her cigarette breaks. This weight you hold, impossible to forget, is now slowing her down instead of feeding her ambitions, and anything that is not actively serving her is unnecessary. These memories are unnecessary. They’re pathetic, the same moments rotate through her mind in a broken loop she’s unable to pull the plug on, yet so undeniably haunting. The lack of control over her own thoughts irritates her to no end, her fingers are tight around her violin’s neck, her right arm stiff and reminiscent of the first time she held one in her hands. Another breath past her lips and she makes up her mind. 

Kafka puts out her cigarette on the ashtray resting on the cupholder to her left. She reaches for a pocket mirror in her handbag and flips it open, observing the makeup on her features. Her lipstick has faded a little in the middle of her bottom lip, so she reapplies it carefully. It’s an alluring peach color, her favorite. She smacks her lips and smiles to herself as if to make sure there isn’t a crack in her impenetrable facade, then puts the mirror back where it was initially and sprays her signature perfume over her pulse points. Kafka shakes her head, carefully brushing the dark magenta strands of her bangs away from her cheeks. She sits in the car for another moment, bracing herself, then unlocks the back door.

“Be back in a few, Bladie.” 

The driver doesn’t flinch when the car door shuts firmly behind her. Kafka lowers her prized sunglasses over her eyes. The car is parked a couple of minutes from the vintage record store she’s heard mentions of prior to traveling to Europe for performances, the street is better explored by foot and having her vehicle positioned directly in front of the store while she pondered things would have attracted unnecessary attention. She strolls down the decorated street and its colored asphalt the way she had almost three weeks ago, taking in the local shops and restaurants. Though it’s the middle of the day, only a little past one in the afternoon, the place isn’t as crowded as it usually is when she drives by (twice a week, for three weeks now.) She checks out the window apparel of two clothing stores then decides to step inside another time. She makes it to the record store a minute later and stands in front of the large window offering a glimpse of its interior, an index finger rhythmically drumming against her thigh. It’s empty, save for a blonde woman with a purple streak dyed into her hair that she’s seen work the floor before. Kafka checks the small watch around her wrist. It’s around the same time she passes by on her way to practice. She pushes the door open and steps inside.

A small bell rings out, announcing her presence, and the blonde worker doesn’t even look up from the thick textbook laid on the register counter. She scribbles away, brows furrowed in concentration. Kafka ignores her in turn. Her fingertips trail on packaged vinyls as she makes her way to the jazz section of the store, taking note of the relative stillness of the space with only low radio music to fill the silence. Her heeled boots clack along the ceramic floor with every leisure step. She’s waiting, pausing in front of a particular record and turning it over in her hands, aware of the other person in the room. She listens deeply while she pretends to read the cover and the perpetual easy smile on her lips widens infinitesimally at the sound of cardboard boxes getting ripped open in the backroom behind the register. She glances at her gloved hands. Steady as always.

“Holy fu—!” The blonde worker exclaims in surprise then quickly collects herself enough not to swear, clearing her throat once. 

Kafka’s disinterested gaze lands on her. She closes her textbook with a thud and leaves her post at the cash register to stand in front of her in record time, a gleam in her eyes and a grin on her face like she just won the lottery.

“Are you Kafka? The violinist?” Her voice lowers conspiratorially and she slightly leans forward in excitement. 

Kafka tilts her head to the side in amusement. “I might be.”

The woman takes a breath and claps her hands together over her lips in a praying gesture. “You have no idea how much you just brightened my day, Kafka. Can I have a picture, if it’s not too weird? My phone’s in the backroom, I can go get it. It’ll be super quick.”

She’s promptly walking away before the other can reply, a bounce in her step. Kafka follows her figure until it disappears past the door. She turns back to the record in her hands, then puts it back on the shelf to continue browsing the aisle. She’s not looking for anything in particular but if she does leave the store with a few more records under her arms, she won’t complain.

“They asked for me personally?”

“Yep! Go, go, I’ll take care of this batch.”

Her ears pick up on the conversation happening in the backroom, the voices getting louder as they approach the front of the store, and her next exhale is audible despite herself; yours still sounds the same. She reminds herself that she already smoked ten minutes ago.

“But who are they?”

“I don’t know, a customer. Just go!”

“Fine, jeez…”

Kafka lifts her gaze to the backroom door the moment it’s pushed open and instantly meets yours. She’s taken by the sudden sunlight in the room, all of it on your features; softly tracing the curve of your nose and the bow of your lips, resting over your cheek like a warm palm, sun rays kiss half of you and hold you close in a way she’s no longer sure she remembers the feel of. If she could tear her eyes away, she would notice the afternoon sun reflected on every surface of the store, a detail previously overlooked. There are bags under your eyes and something so small grows into a striking detail because this is her first time seeing them on you.  Your hair is put away from your face today, different than it was last week when Blade drove past the place, every line and shadow is  presented for her viewing pleasure and she drinks them in during a suspended instant. You’re older. That fact shouldn’t surprise her, she feels ridiculous. Her hands are immobile in the air, two vinyls between them brought up for comparison, and her mouth unknowingly twitches downward, about a hundred words she refuses to say push each other to be the first out of her lips, but she keeps it tightly shut. Your eyes widen the next second— for someone who always closely keeps track of time, she doesn’t know how much has passed since your eyes first met— and Kafka’s lower to your bobbing throat. Your hand goes to your rapidly rising chest and you turn your back on her as if frightened. 

“S-Serval, are you sure you don’t need help?” The tremor in your sentence and your averted gaze pulls Kafka out of her thoughts. She almost rolls her eyes at your lame attempt to run from her. Again. 

“I’m sure! Everything’s good here!”

You lean forward and try to regain control over your breathing for a few seconds, shoulders tense, before you slowly turn on your heel to face her once more. Guilt. She recognizes it easily, it’s laced in the curve of your brows and your colored irises. You swallow another time, your hands limp at your sides, and look at her helplessly. Out of the kindness of her heart and against her petty wish for you to keep that haunted look on your face, Kafka helps you out. 

“…I’m hesitating between these.” She holds up the records in her hands.

You blink. It takes you another moment of silence to register her words, and when you do, you reluctantly begin to make your way to her. Your steps are short and slow like you’re walking to the gallows, Kafka can’t help the bitter amusement in her smile. She feels a strange sort of vindication from your behavior, her past hesitation now forgotten. She watches you get closer through the filter of her sunglasses. You stand next to her a polite distance away and glance at the vinyls she’s holding.

“…What are you looking for?” You avoid her gaze and take the records she hands you, instead reading over the album titles and songs. 

Kafka doesn’t look away from you. “Something… relaxing. Slow tempo, the kind you sway to.”

You put the records back on the shelf and reach for another, presenting it to her. “This musician’s good.”

“Mmm. You listened to it?”

“Not this album, but some of his other songs. His music always has the same theme to it, it might be the vibe you’re searching for.”

“What theme is that?”

She knows what it is, she already has a copy of that record at home. It’s a childish delight to witness your reluctance to answer, but she doesn’t care.

“Regret.”

Kafka lets the following pause stretch longer than necessary. She finally tears her eyes from your form to continue browsing the shelves, fingertips trailing over the numerous records neatly stacked one next to the other. She walks some steps away from you as she skims the artists’ names and tilts her head your way when you hold up a different album for her to decide on. She makes a show of pondering about it before asking for another option. She does this for a while, finds a reason to criticize every record you present to her and observes the rapidly deepening frown on your lips. It’s stupid, she thinks fleetingly, how easily you turn back into a child in her mind. You made that face whenever you missed a note in the middle of practice, too. You lifted your eyes in exasperation just like this after another one of her lame jokes, too. You often fiddled with the beads necklace on your collarbone back then as well. Kafka looks away. It's a silver dog tag now. 

“What about this one?” Your tone is slightly more clipped than it was five minutes ago. She ignores it. “It’s a collection of ballads–- older New Orleans swing, soulful, soft. I’d say it’s what you’d like to listen to based on all of your critiques. You’d sway to that, right?”

Kafka takes the record and carefully looks it over. It’s a good suggestion and most of the songs on there are so far personally unheard of, on any other day she actually would have bought it. She puts it back on the shelf where you found it, then faces you.

“Maybe a decade ago. I might be in the mood for something more Romantic, actually.”

You pause, a little taken aback. Your thumb and index fingers take hold of the tag around your neck. “Uh… okay. I’d consider those ballads romantic, though.”

Kafka chuckles quietly. “The era.”

“…Right.” You turn away from her in embarrassment. “That’s another section, then.”

“Lead the way.”

Since she’s the only customer in the store at present, you can’t escape from repeating the same frustrating pattern as before: you suggest a record, it is “not quite what Kafka is looking for”, and she follows that comment with passive aggressivity so subtle that you would have been fooled by her harmless smile if you didn’t already know what she was referring to. Kafka can see your growing exasperation but you have different tells now, it’s all in the purse of your lips and the curl of your fingers at your side. The way you speak, your eloquence when expressing yourself and describing music and the knowledge you bring to the table allows her to fill in some of the blanks washed out by time and space. You’re becoming irritated and she is learning you through it. You work in a record store, you don’t question any of the musical terms she employs and you clearly know what you’re talking about when recommending diverse pieces to her. You haven’t given up on the medium, then. Kafka pushes her relief aside.

“What is it that you’re looking for in particular?” You ask, aggravated after yet another shot down from her and crossing your arms over your chest. There’s a crease between your brows but she notices your shoulders have relaxed significantly since you started conversing.

Kafka doesn’t even have to think about that one. “Violin sonatas.”

She’s not looking at you, pretending to read over the back of a record, but she can almost hear the grinding of your teeth as yet another moment of silence is filled by the pop music over the radio speakers. Though she can’t help the bitterness growing around her organs like mold, neither of you actually acknowledge knowing each other before this afternoon. What is left unsaid spreads to every corner of the store, suffocating fumes charged with your guilt and her hurt, and you both stand in the middle of it, stubbornly breathing in the toxic air. 

If anything, Kafka commends your efforts in attempting to maintain your composure. Your chest falls with a soft exhale and you return to the shelves, browsing the selection with her preferences in mind. She glances at her watch. She has a commitment in an hour, she didn’t think this would take as long as it had. She briefly remembers Blade waiting around in the car, probably dozing off behind the wheel until she returns. 

“Here,” you speak and her head lifts to look at the vinyl you’re handing her. “It’s a miscellaneous collection. If there’s an exact sound that you want, it’s likely there.”

“I already have this one.” A white lie. Kafka doesn’t take the record, instead raises her eyes to yours. “I thought maybe this store would have something out of the ordinary, given its local reputation.” Her gaze boredly sweeps over the empty store before settling on you again. “I don’t see anything out of the ordinary.”

“Enough,” you’ve finally had enough of her implications, she watches you put your foot down with rapt attention. “What do you want me to do, record my own shitty playing before you’re satisfied?”

Shitty? She almost scoffs, personally offended. The missing key to her art, shitty?

“Maybe. Would you run from that as well?”

Your features first twist in shock at her dry reply, then twitch involuntarily as you try to mask the hurt that laces the natural curve of your bottom lip. You blink, averting your eyes the way you so often do now, and Kafka pauses at your reaction, almost daring you to contradict her. Another awkwardly charged silence falls upon you both. You seem to have many of those. She’s tempted to break it with a nonchalant remark, but the words freeze on her tongue at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows and trembling lips. She stands and stares as you bring a hand to your face, uselessly attempting to reign in the emotion drawn across the lines of it. By the looks of it, you try very hard but are ultimately unable to stop your throat from bobbing with every difficult swallow and your lashes from fluttering to keep the sting of your eyes at bay. You’re suddenly taken with emotion, and Kafka stares in disbelief concealed as apathy. You briskly walk past her and make a beeline for the register counter, using its surface to support your hands and turning your back on her again. The distance could not be clearer, this time dug by her own hands. She hears your shuddering breaths, watches the growing tension in your back and shoulder muscles, and a sensation she does not recognize stops her from uttering anything. You look small, you sound weak, and it goes against every thought she's had of you for the past decade. It goes against the space you occupy in her mind--- unrelenting, expansive, insisting. You are not the teenager she sees when she looks at you nor the quiet child she thinks of when she's had too much to drink, you are simply a crying stranger she has no right to unravel, and yet she finds it difficult to look away.

Kafka is uncomfortable, rooted where she stands, and for once at a loss of what to do. She's relieved from doing anything as the blonde worker from earlier, Serval, stalks into the room with a frown bending her lips. There's no trace of her previous excitement, she immediately rounds the register to place herself next to you and rests a kind hand on your back, murmuring concerned inquiries that you can only shake your head to. Serval faces Kafka with a perfected customer service smile, all past pretenses gone.

"You should go, I'm sure a bigshot like you has more important things to do in a day than linger here."

Kafka smiles. "I do." She adjusts the silk gloves over her hands and spares a last glance at your back. She reaches into one of her coat pockets, steps closer to the register, and slides a sleek card with a minimalist design toward you with two fingers. "If you want to put your shitty playing to use."

The entry bell rings out as Kafka walks out of the record store.

[naomiknight-17]

Got groceries and medicine! Thank you!!

(Jill did not help)

If anyone wants to pitch in anything further it would help us get out of overdraft so thank you once again! 🩷

Hey y'all

I hate to ask for help again when I know I still owe folks some doodles from the last donation drive, but we're in a bit of a spot

My Visa interest and fees come out on Monday and I don't have enough space to cover them. If they bounce I'll be hit with exorbitant overage fees.

If anyone can pitch in a few dollars to help us cover the fees, I'd be extremely grateful. Anything left afterwards will go towards groceries and/or Christmas savings

Thank you for taking the time to read this

[pyjamaart]

Every time someone complains about Fully Charged Airmans design, my love for him grows even stronger.

I feel like most people are mad that he isn't blue. Like back in 2014 when people complained that Sonics arms were blue in Sonic Boom. But I honestly don't think it's that big of a deal.

But if you see Fully Charged as an alternate universe to the classic series (which it is), then I don't really get why you'd have to complain about Airman not being blue. I think it's good they tried something fresh with the robot masters. They didn't have that much personality in the classic series, to be honest, compared to Fully Charged. I just think he needed a little more screen time to focus on his character. Just like many other robot masters on this show.

Okay, I have to admit, I did change around his colors a bit for a joke that would have gone along the lines of "Just hire fans, lol", but it actually ended up looking pretty cool, so I can't really make that joke anymore……. Really shot myself in the foot with that one. Anyway, here's blue Airman:

I still think that an episode featuring an air race would have been really really cool. They could have introduced a robot master like Gyroman as his rival. Maybe losing that race could have been the start of his character arc where he finally confronts his inferiority/superiority complex. Along the lines of "Flying is all I have left! If I can't have that, what else am I supposed to do?" Well, now that we're already in headcanon territory, I might as well tell you about all my other ones involving Airman. I believe his family is suuuuper rich. All his siblings have well respected careers and probably make his parents buckets of money. Meanwhile Airman is like the youngest sibling who dreamed of becoming a professional racer, which his parents didn't support at all. Kinda reminds me of another robot master under Lord Obsidians command whose dreams were crushed by his parents......

And as we've seen in that one episode, Airmans siblings are assholes. They just pretend he doesn't exist, like he never belonged to their family at all. Like they're ashamed that he's such a failure.

Oh damn that got dark again, sorry. But just like Drillman, he gets better in the end. While Drillman gets Woodman to look out for him, I've had the headcanon for a while that Airman gets taken in by Blastowoman, since she's also a flying robot master like him. Maybe she even gets him a job as a cargo bot alongside herself. I feel like he really needs someone supportive who's not afraid to call him out on his bullshit in his life. And because I have another headcanon that Blastowoman actually has an adult child (Blastman, lol), she's like the perfect woman for the job. ;)

Coming back to Airmans design, I did change some things about it for this particular piece of fan art. When I was trying to come up with an awesome pose to draw him in, the first thought I had was "Damn, I gotta give this man some heels." And that's exactly what I drew.

Sorry for not posting anything for 2 months btw. I got addicted to Metaphor ReFantazio ;) If that doesn't become game of the year, I'm gonna be real mad.

Jenny out.

[adultemophase]

A VERY LONG ARCANE S2 REVIEW (Not spoiler free below page break)

Firstly, these are all my opinions and everyone is entirely entitled to their own. If you hated S2? That’s fine but I didn’t. So, I will be doing a kind of general breakdown of my thoughts on each act below but first my general review is that I think in terms of overall story telling, season 1 is better.

To ME, S2 seems like more of what they initially had in mind for the show, and they just really nailed the exposition of S1. This is what I think made S1’s pacing feel a lot better - it’s all exposition for S2. Season 2 had to fit a climax and resolution for all of these characters in the same amount of time that they took to set up all of these story lines in the previous season. I genuinely think that each act could have been it’s own season but w/ how expensive the show is to make and the amount of time production took between seasons, I see how that’s not practical. Especially if they want to explore other regions sooner than 15 years from now.

TBH I really enjoyed this season. I understand some people are hating it because of the parts they don’t like but it’s still a visually stunning show with great characters. Do I think there were areas where the story fell flat? Yes. I also think given the time constraints and restriction of this being the last season, the visual story telling was very well done and a great way to move along the story without sacrificing time. I genuinely think it’s such a phenomenal feat of animation that characters expressions convey thoughts and emotions that feel real without dialogue. I still am blown away that it’s a LoL show because despite my love of league lore and characters, I never would have expected that Riot could produce such a heart wrenching show about the tragic nature of love and loss, the things we do for love, and the flaws of our own humanity.

I also think some people set their expectations WAYYY too high for the social commentary aspect of the show after s1, as far as I’m aware there was never any claim made by any part of the prod or writing team that it would be one. Idk overall, I thought it was a lot of fun and still an exceptional show. Not what I was expecting but I’m not upset about how it ended. I think it was conclusive but also not so finite that it leaves zero room for interpretation of the characters implied futures.

It is a little disheartening to see so many immediate negative reactions to it but, again, people are entitled to their own opinions and as much as I complain about people not using critical thinking skills or passing grade 9 literature - art is subjective. Animation, ESPECIALLY at this scale and complexity, is a form of art. I, as I’m sure many other’s did, found it a fulfilling end to one of my favorite shows. Yes, I wish there was more but I can’t bring myself to be disappointed with what we did get.

Below is my (again PERSONAL and NOT SPOILER FREE) 1-10 rating and my thoughts on each act (not really going to analyze anything because I need about 3-5 weeks to scrub through every episode so only my little reviews) :

ACT 1 (7/10) : I think this act is the one with the worst pacing, but I said a whole back in a previous post that I believe to some degree it was intentional. There is suddenly a war happening so I think it’s supposed to feel chaotic a bit chaotic. However I can concede to part of it just being, well, bad pacing. This act is definitely one I wish could have taken up more episodes if there were more seasons since I would prefer flushed out development as opposed to music videos at the beginning of each episode. However, for what it was, they serve their purpose narratively and relay the information that the viewer needs to know. Otherwise, as heartbreaking as the act is, I gotta put myself on blast and say that I LOVE the end sequence of ep 3 when Ambessa makes Caitlyn commander. Like it’s so daunting and cool. Ep 1 fight scene at the memorial? super sick. I also loved the development of the dynamic between Sevika and Jinx. You can feel the characters devolve into a version of themselves that truly is worse and I think that’s so fun. Most of my drop in rating is from how fast it feels.

ACT 2: 9/10

I simultaneously have so much and so little to say. I won’t talk about Isha’s death because to me it was fairly evident that she was going to die from act 1. Anyways, for me this was the most tragic act and I’m still trying to decide between this and act 3 as my favorite. I love them both, in different ways. Seeing Jinx and Vi be brought together and Vander was so touching and sad. You get a real look of how much they still care for each other despite the fact that they’re perpetually ripped apart. I’ve already made a post about the scene between Caitlyn and Vi, so I won’t just say the same thing I’ve already said. I also honestly am not upset that Vi’s “six-ish months of going insane” wasn’t drawn out. Again, I don’t LOVE the music videos, but narratively, it tells you virtually everything you need to know about what’s happened to her and where she is mentally. It’s literally a montage of her life for the past several months. As a recovering addict and someone known to self destruct, I would much rather they condense that like they did rather than draw it out and not handle it well. If you’re going to be cynical, you could say they didn’t anyways but, recovering addict, so I was more worried before the act 2 release that it would be triggering rather than handled poorly.

Jayce coming back and tweaking out was also such a fun touch when it wasn’t explained until the next episode why he was acting that way. Like I figured it had to do with the hex crystal now fused with his body but it was still so interesting.

ACT 3: 9/10

Maybe unpopular but I LOVED this act. Everything was so visually intriguing that on my first watch I wasn’t even fully locked in just because I was focused on how good the imagery/animation is. I thought I was going to hate ep 7 because, unfortunately that leak was real (no I won’t be changing my pfp to a clown like I said I was bc I’m stubborn) but the implication to me of that episode was not “Vi dead so everything good!” it’s that they saw a kid die because of the crystals Jayce had and, in brevity, saw what the tension between the undercity and Piltover was doing to people. I am curious what happened to THAT universes Jayce but I imagine he was probably imprisoned.

Obviously, I have to address the sex scene, and honestly? I don’t mind that it’s in a jail cell BECAUSE of the very obvious parallel to how they first met. It was also done in such a wonderful way that it feels like a legitimately intimate scene between the characters and not just a “man well I suppose they need to fuck, huh.” or male gaze-y “lesbians 🤤” way.

I will be honest and say I don’t like multiverse stuff since it kind of kills the whole “arcane is cannon” thing. I also just don’t love it in general because in recent years it’s been just a cop out for companies to make more money off of IPs (see Marvel) but it makes me want to go back and rewatch s1 again to see if this has always been the plan. I don’t mind Viktor being the wizard that Jayce sees when he is a kid since they tied that up in a way thats really cool. I do think it’s an episode though that, after seeing it a couple of times, is easily skippable since it doesn’t really do a ton for the main plot. Like Ekko gets his Z drive, heimerdinger (i think?) dies, and Jayce discovers the damage hextech can do. Don’t get me wrong, I really like the episode, unfortunately it is just one that I feel like viewers can skip over upon rewatch because of the AU stuff.

Also MEL, I love her storyline with the black rose and I really hope that her putting on the Noxian clothing in the end is an indication that we will get more of her if Riot does a series based in Noxus.