#I am kinda torn tho

[keejot-arts]

how far we’ve come

[yellllowstar]

slowly I'm recovering the beauty of discovery

(creature by half•alive)

(textless + timelapse below cut)

[asmodeauxx]

I love seeing all those ISAT aus where loop just casually joins the party post game.

And! with that in mind, I will be making one as well😋

[authenticcadence18]

I honestly think the final update of chfil will be my last posted phinbella fic

[teardropsonsmyguitar]

hey guys

[kurthorton-moving]

the house we looked at today was Very nice and so big and like its a little expensive but i would like it very much

[the-acid-pear]

I love thinking of L.L.'s properties and the like. Anyway I think when hurt the deeper the would goes the faster it'll heal. Their organs will close up faster than a cut on their skin will. This unfortunately includes burns which makes them pretty weak to fire.

[yayforocs]

i am so sorry to the folks that followed me bc i posted welsknight but i have just suddenly realized i never posted any (any!!!) of my aron tape recordings and now i must post All Of Them.

[chelseeebe]

moth to a flame

18+. mdni. smut. king!steve x kinda alt fem!reader. mentions of alcohol and drugs throughout. no ud so steve never gets the opportunity to develop from his jackass high school self. both he and tommy are kinda mean to poor old reader but he makes up for it in the end i promise.

a/n: there's something about lil stevie at the moment.. i think it's because i neglected him for so long that now i'm overcompensating lol. more eddie is coming tho i swear<3 so in my head r is like alt though descriptions don't really go past anything vague.

‎⋆⭒˚｡⋆

steve wasn’t really ever that choosy with his women. he didn’t have to be. 

they’d throw themselves at him, from the start of high school right through to college. by some grace of god, meaning his dad and his endless wallet, he’d made it into the university of chicago. 

partying his way through his studies with a plethora of women and friends who really only saw him as an open wallet. 

that’s where he’d met you. 

you weren’t a regular, that’s for sure. 

your hair dyed, clothes torn purposely and thick, dark rings of black around your eyes. 

he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you all night. watching as you’d ducked outside just after midnight, deciding to follow you, muttering something about a cigarette to tommy without a second thought. 

he’d found you around the empty side of the house smoking and stuck his tongue down your throat. 

with permission, of course. 

he’d seen you in there with the guy with the long hair, steve recognised him as someone he bought weed off occasionally. “he your boyfriend?”

relief washing over him when you’d shook your head no, “i can’t get you a discount if that’s what you’re asking.”

his shoulder had bumped against the hard brick in an attempt to nonchalantly lean against it, “noo.. i was just hoping you were single.” 

your smile grows though steve didn’t pick up on the sarcastic twang about it until after, “is that right?” 

“you don’t believe me?” 

“hmm not really,” stubbing the cigarette out on the side of the house. 

“but you are single, right?” deploying that trademark harrington grin, ever unfailing in his entire career. 

“i am.” 

“so why don’t you wanna make out with me?” reverse psychology, another never faltering technique. 

your eyes had narrowed, “i didn’t say that,” he’d known he was in from then on out, putty in his hands just the way he’d hoped. 

and thus, birthed this. whatever this is. 

-

steve waits rather impatiently for the party to die down enough to sneak out of here and get you into the back of his bmw. he hadn’t drank, swerving tommy’s attempts at getting him to drink with some vague, mumbly excuse. 

your meetings weren’t exactly tasteful, usually entailing some dark corner of the town and the leather of his backseat. 

you don’t speak outside of this, maybe a quick glance if he ever saw you outside of the parties but never anything substantial. 

but you’d gotten wise to his signals, you were usually found outside with that long-haired boy smoking which meant he had also began to get wise. 

steve would drop a cup and glance quickly in your direction or he’d loudly say his goodbyes before slipping out of the door. earning a groan or a roll of the eyes from your friend. 

steve’s grateful though, because he knows you’ll only be a few minutes behind. shuffling down the street to his beemer. 

tonight, you’d taken longer than usual. sighing as you slid into the passenger seat, steve’s gaze immediately falling to your chest, hungry as ever. 

“what’s wrong?” he asks, putting the car into drive before anyone had the opportunity to catch you. 

you shake your head, buckling in as the car speeds off, “it’s nothing,” settling yourself in the seat. 

“didn’t sound like nothing,” he’s not sure why he’s prying so much, you didn’t owe him any explanation. 

“it’s just..” debating whether to divulge, “eddie feels the need to tell me how much he hates you, every single time. it’s boring, you know?” 

oh. 

steve wasn’t quite expecting that. 

sure, he wasn’t the most likeable person ever but hate? 

“right,” he nods, unsure of where to go from here, “well.. i’m sure if he knew me, he’d think differently,” though even steve doesn’t quite believe that himself.

you hum in response, staring out at the disappearing road ahead. 

the car pulls in to it’s usual saturday night spot, overlooking the city on some disused street. quiet and calm but not for long. 

it’s the same foolproof routine every single week, you’ll sit and talk for a minute until one or the other gets fed up and pulls the other into the backseat. 

this week it takes a little longer for either of you to crack. you’re still pissed off by whatever eddie had said and he was desperate to try and break through your hardened exterior. 

he didn’t want to be hated by anyone, let alone your friends. 

perhaps it was fear. scared of eddie revealing the truth about your little rendezvous’ or maybe he really did want to know more about you. he’d been inside of you more than he’d ever asked about your day. 

steve had once thought the only people that had tattoos were freaks and criminals, but he doesn’t suppose you’re either of the two. 

he loves the way they look on your skin, adorning your arms like they were there before you were born. 

“why’d you get that one?” pointing to the flower on your wrist. 

you tut, “d’you wanna talk about my tattoos or d’you wanna have sex?” becoming annoyed with his attempts to close the bridge between you. 

“why not both?” he didn’t know a thing about you besides your name and how hard you liked his palm against your ass. maybe you really were a freak. 

“because you don’t care, not really,” shrugging at him from the passenger seat, “you don’t have to pretend y’know?”

“i’m not pretending,” steve frowns, “i wanna know about your tattoos and i wanna have sex with you, is that crazy?” 

you chuckle, turning in your seat to face him, “a little, yeah. i don’t believe that steve harrington cares about my tattoos at all.” 

fuck, he wishes this was normal, that you were normal and he could just take you out like he would any other girl. 

he doesn’t have a reply, sighing quietly to himself instead. 

your hand reaches over, cupping his chin in your palm and gently tilting it upward til he meets your eye again, “so.. sex?” 

steve nods, blinking rapidly as you shift over into his lap. if you weren’t going to indulge him then the least he could do was give you what you wanted. 

you keep your hand firmly on his chin, locking your lips as your hips move forward, grinding against his jeans, his hands coming to meet your waist. 

frantic in the way he grabs at your skin, needing you closer than his car allowed. 

what had really shocked him most about you, was the fact that your nipples were pierced. he’d never seen it before, not in real life anyway. but now he couldn’t imagine ever having another boob in his mouth that didn’t taste slightly of metal. 

he claws at your shirt, yanking it higher for access to your chest, pulling your bra down enough to reveal your tit, palming at the flesh before locking his lips around the sensitive skin. 

your skirt ends up above your waist, his hands roaming the fleshy area, grinding down against his stiff cock with an insatiable hunger. rutting until you’re moaning into the cramped car, his tongue still swirling around your nipple. 

“c’mon,” instructing him breathlessly, “need you now stevie,” your hands firm on his shoulders, praying he won’t make you wait any longer. 

he nods, letting your breast fall from his lips, gripping your waist to allow himself the space to wiggle his jeans down enough, his boxers following closely. your eyes roll at the sight of his cock springing out, already glistening with pre-cum from your incessant rutting. 

you’re already raring to go, sodden panties held to the side as he lines his tip with your soaked entrance, gazing up at you with wondrous lust. 

“fuck,” whispering harshly when you lower yourself onto him, his fingers leaving heavy marks on your hips. 

you take a moment to adjust, biting down onto your lip as your eyes reopen, meeting his before you begin moving. slow at first, thick thighs enveloping his waist. he wants to gnaw on them, leave purple markings all along the doughy skin. 

steve knows he has a big cock, he’s not stupid. it had been a thing to marvel throughout high school, in locker rooms and after hooking up with whoever. everyone had known. 

it doesn’t seem to phase you, bouncing up and down as your skin slaps together. he’s always found it hot, that two bodies could make such a sexy sound but with you it’s better. 

“that’s it,” you whine, melodically breathing in time with your body bouncing. 

your hand creeps away from his shoulder, hanging loosely around his neck, too scared to place any real pressure until he nods enthusiastically, placing a harsh hand to your ass, a clear cut green flag. 

you practically growl in response, tightening your grip on his neck, the seats of his car squeak and groan underneath your bodies as the car rocks on the wheels. 

keeping one hand on your ass and the other now nestling between your thighs, fingers perched on your soft stomach as his thumb finds your clit. 

“oh fuck,” you whine, enthusiastically moving up and down, squeezing his neck just enough to make his eyes roll back. 

steve tightens his grip on your ass, losing grip of his throat to slam your palm against the foggy window when his hips thrust upward, moving with yours in perfect harmony. 

he wants to swallow you whole, entranced by the sheer pleasure on your face, eyelashes fluttering and your lips parted to allow your melodic mewls to flow freely. 

“oh honey,” he moans, slamming into your dripping cunt. an insatiable urge to stay inside of you forever, “fucking.. shit, you feel so fucking good,” eye contact intensely heavy, dripping in pure unadulterated lust. “d-do that again,” referring to your palm around his neck. 

“you like that? hmm?” leaving steve to hold you upright, enveloping his jugular with a comfortable squeeze. 

no one had ever touched him like that, nor had he ever thought to ask anyone to touch him like that. sex had been a mostly placid affair before he met you, a couple positions if he was feeling crazy but nothing compared to the lewd shit you got up to. 

he can’t speak, his balls slapping against your thighs in a maniacal rhythm, relishing the feel of your cunt dripping down his cock onto his boxers. 

the car is stuffy, suffocating almost. the fluidity of your two bodies moving against each other only makes it worse. your skin sticks to his, chest clammy and slick. steve loves it, the messiness, the sheer animalistic need for one another. 

he grunts into the air, weaving his fingers through your untamed hair, a palm flat to your cheek as he finds your lips in a fumbling haze. 

your fingers leave his neck to trail down his chest, clawing at his shirt, desperately rutting your hips as you chase your orgasm. it all becomes sloppy when you begin to pant into his mouth, barely able to keep up the rhythm. 

“oh god,” whimpering between his parted lips, “fuck,” your thighs begin to shake, trembling uncontrollably as steve continues to thrust upwards, unrelenting though he’s teetering over the edge himself. 

your lips graze against his chin, mewling loudly while you come undone. a trembling mess, relying on his arms to keep your body upright. 

he can’t take anymore, your cunt squeezing and clenching around him, driving him completely insane. there's no way in hell that he could ever possibly imagine having sex with anyone else for the rest of his measly life.

“are you cumming?” you ask, holding onto the back of his clammy neck with a panicked look in your eye. 

steve nods quickly, using the last of his energy to thrust upwards one final time, uncaring of the consequences. or quite honestly not even considering what cumming inside of you could mean.

his hips stutter, the back of his head hitting the headrest as he grunts and groans, filthy words filling the warm car. 

he’s still inside of you when you look down, only allowing him a short moment to gather himself before you frown, “steve,” using your finger to flick his ear. 

“shit,” the threat of a child dawns on him, realising how much he shouldn’t have done that, “i’ll pay for.. whatever you need, fuck- i’m sorry,” keeping a firm hand on your waist, pleading for forgiveness. 

if you could feel what he felt, he thinks you’d understand. 

“you’re so lucky i’m on birth control.. idiot,” climbing off of him to rest on his thighs instead, readjusting your underwear as his release threatens to leak out. 

steve clears his throat, a little embarrassed to have lost all self control over your pussy. he's never been overly enthusiastic about the thought of having children but for a split second there, he had truly contemplated how bad it could be.

clearing the awkward silence with a quiet chuckle, raising his chin to meet your gaze, "sorry."

your glossy lips pout, gaze scanning his face before you hum, "you're forgiven."

-

tommy had dragged him out despite it being a tuesday night, knowing full well he’d be skipping his 9am class tomorrow. he had been really trying to make more of an effort with school lately.

you'd made a passing comment, something you'd definitely have forgotten by now but steve hadn't quite been able to shake it.

your dad's money won't last forever, you know?

it wasn't incorrect by any means, he just hadn't expected the wake up call to come from you.

obviously tommy hadn't got the memo, egging him on to ditch the books to get plastered.

the bar is packed for a weekday evening although steve recognises no one, mostly older folk with a lot of tattoos, eyeing steve’s nervous exterior. 

“get me a beer, i need a piss,” tommy hollers into his ear before disappearing off to the bathroom. ever the charming gentleman. 

steve goes stiff, wondering if he’d seen a ghost. 

you’d materialised behind the bar, looking disinterested in whatever the man in front was jabbering about. 

why are you here? 

he’s never asked what you do for work, never felt the need to. though he wishes he’d asked now. there’s no chance he can collect himself enough to speak to you. 

what if you gave it all away? what if tommy saw? oh fuck. 

steve’s never had a panic attack before but he feels mighty close now. 

he wipes his palms indiscreetly down his jeans, attempting to slow his breathing before he reaches the bar. why did tommy have to be such a jackass? they could’ve been at home tonight. he wouldn’t be having a fucking heart attack if they were. 

the person before him clears off, leaving a space for him to quietly shuffle into. you turn around, eyes locking with his but only letting the corner of your mouth twitch a tiny inch. 

your tongue clicks against your teeth, “what can i get ya?” playing along just as he’d hoped. 

“two.. uh, two uhm, coors.. please,” dropping his gaze as he pleads with god to let the world swallow him up.  

clearing your throat before getting the bottles from the fridge, sliding them across the bar with a sigh, “didn’t think this would be your scene to be honest,” stifling your laugh as the other patrons eye his sweater and too-tight jeans. 

steve gets it. 

the bar was crawling with people with piercings, ripped clothes and an overall disdain for the status quo. 

tommy fit in, he was loud and sweary just as they were but steve, he stuck out like a sore thumb. 

“it’s not.. really, tommy said it was cool.. i dunno,” he hated the fumbling mess you made him, he couldn’t ever understand it. 

you stare back at the disaster you’d created, running your tongue along your top teeth before tapping the bar, “seven bucks, please,” palm outstretched beside him. 

he shoves a ten into your hand, “keep the change,” grabbing the bottles before elbowing his way back to tommy. 

“what the hell took you so long?” 

“there was a line, dumbass,” rolling his eyes, passing off one of the bottles to his friend. 

“don’t lie,” tommy’s elbow jabs steve harshly in the ribs, “i saw you talking to that girl,” steve freezes, terrified of what tommy might say next.  “she’s hot,” tommy leers, “y’know in like a freak sorta way,” laughing obnoxiously loud for such a small bar. “you at least get her number?”

he just glares back, unsure of whether tommy knows more than he’s letting on or just being his usual ignorant self. 

“i could fuck the freak outta’ her, trust me,” the drunk continues, only serving to anger steve further. he didn’t want anyone to speak about you like that, much less tommy fucking hagan. 

“don’t say shit like that,” steve scolds, like he’s some petulant child who needs punishment. 

“what? like you care,” blowing raspberries with his mouth, “c’mon, loads of weird broads in here i can help instead,” walking off into the crowd with a mission. 

he glances over at you smiling with some customer, his stomach churning with unfathomable jealousy. he had no right to feel that way, in fact, he probably deserved it.

-

tommy’s in one of his unbearable moods again, bouncing around the party, antagonising any and every one who even attempts to get him to stop. 

steve doesn’t really care, nervously eyeing the door, confused by your absence. you hadn’t told him you were coming, but then you also hadn’t told him that you weren’t coming. 

had he done something wrong? the last time you’d spoken was when he and tommy had crashed your shift, only muttering a few nervous words about beer. he’s pathetic. you’d made him pathetic. 

an arm latches around his shoulder harshly, almost knocking the drink from his hand, “stop watching the door, she’s not coming,” tommy slurs, laughing cruelly in his face. 

“what?” steve’s body tenses, trying to shake off the drunkard. 

“your little girlfriend,” clarifying exactly what steve had thought he was saying. tommy clocks steve’s gawping mouth, his heightened breaths, “what?” chuckling loudly, “you think i don’t know? everyone fucking knows dude, you can cut the shit.”

he wriggles free from his grasp, “the fuck are you talking about?” it’s not as if playing dumb would help him now but he’d at least give it a shot. 

“fuck off man,” tommy shoves him backwards, “that’s why you’re acting like a little pussy at the moment,” spitting in his face, belligerent and arrogant, “steve fucks the weird girl and now he pretends to give a fuck about feelings and shit,” drawing the attention of the entire party. 

if it really had been that obvious, they’d all already know about it anyway. 

“you’re an asshole, you know that right?” steve fumes, shoving tommy back into the counter before grabbing the container of vodka behind, walking off into the party with his head held high. 

people eye him as he goes, sure they all knew. they’d all heard what tommy was screaming about, hell, they’d probably seen the two of you sneaking about for months. 

why did he care so? why didn’t he care more? 

-

steve’s hopeless, completely and utterly tragic. 

deserting the party after an hour of his ‘friends’ dancing around him and girls completely dodging his advances. 

he didn’t want them, not really. he just needed to fill a you shaped hole. 

the only place his intoxicated brain can conjure up to go is your house. his feet carrying him out of the door and across the large campus without much thought to it. 

it’s only when he reaches the small row of houses that he realises where he is. looking up at the quaint house he’d dropped you off at tens of times. 

he can’t go in, can’t go back to the party either. 

stuck between a rock and a hard place because no matter what, he’d come off pretty badly. 

“what’re you doing?” a girl he’s never seen before speaks from the shadows, a certain look of disgust on her features. 

steve stops his aimless pacing, realising just how weird he looked. how could he ever begin to explain himself? 

the girl i have sex with sometimes lives here and i’m here because my best friend found out about it and i don’t really know how to feel about that. 

though he opts for something a little easier to digest, “i’m just.. walking.”

the girl narrows her eyes, “i know who you are, steve harrington,” full disgust in her voice, “i don’t know if she’s home,” putting her key into the door. 

of course. the roommate you’d mentioned. robin or something like that. he’s not sure why he hadn’t thought of it. 

“can you.. can you check?” relieved to not have been the one knocking on the door. 

“well duh,” she scowls, opening the door and disappearing into the hall. 

thankfully, she doesn’t reemerge. unsure of how much he could take tonight without bursting into tears. 

you do though, peeking out of the door with a small frown, opening the door wider when you see his frame lingering. 

“steve?” confusion echoing, “what the hell are you doing here?” 

“hey,” steve waves, watching his fingers wiggle and immediately regretting it. the realisation creeping in that he was lurking around your house like a complete weirdo. 

“you’re drunk,” you state plainly, opening the door wider to reveal your heart-adorned pyjama shorts and fuzzy slippers. 

his eyes fall immediately, still desperate to suffocate himself between your thighs. 

“yup,” hiccuping through the dark. 

you sigh, you do that a lot when you’re talking to him, “jesus christ.. come in,” ushering him inside. 

he stumbles through the door, hazy eyes looking at your house, the decorations that littered the place. 

it’s so.. you. 

different and spunky, a guitar leant against the couch, banners and posters and pictures of you and your friends beaming plaster the walls. he can’t help but think about how much his mother would detest it all. wouldn’t fit her cookie-cutter world view, neither would you, really. 

is that why he liked you?

some repressed act of defiance against his mother? 

no, no he really doesn’t think so. 

“okay,” your hand finds his back, “upstairs now,” flashing a look to robin that he can’t distinguish between confusion and maybe slight fear. 

steve lets you guide him, appreciating the gentle hand, only wishing it hadn’t taken half a quart of vodka to get him here into your room. 

he flops onto the bed with a sigh, still too intoxicated to feel any real shame yet though he’s sure it’ll inevitably sneak in at some point. 

“what’re you doing?” pity addling your voice as you come to sit on the bed, desperate to not let his eyes trail down to your legs. 

“i wanted to see you,” murmuring his words, “you didn’t come tonight.. i missed you,” letting the spirit speak for him. 

you stare at him for a second, figuring out how to approach his fragile state, “didn’t think you’d want me there after the bar.” 

“why wouldn’t i?” 

you scoff, “you couldn’t even look me in the eye,” reinvigorating that twinge of guilt in his chest, “you were terrified of tommy finding out you even knew me,” you must really pity him. letting him into your house after he’d acted like you simply didn’t exist just a few weeks ago. 

“tommy knows anyway.. none of it even mattered,” steve sighs, rubbing his temple as the headache kicks in. 

“i know, steve,” offering little remorse. your eyes roll back, sighing softly, “he came by the bar a few days ago, he was drunk, trying to.. it doesn’t matter. i know he knows, i don’t really care,” shrugging as if you couldn’t understand why he did. 

maybe rather selfishly steve had assumed that you were also somewhat ashamed of this arrangement. it hadn’t occurred to him that only he felt so pathetically guilty and oddly protective over your relationship. 

he wanted you to himself and at the same time wanted absolutely no one to know about it. 

“but i care,” it sounding even worse out loud than it did in his head. 

yet he means it. he just can’t really understand why. 

your eyes lower, shifting uncomfortably on your bed as your smile grows sadder, “you don’t want anyone to know that you fuck the freak, right?” a glum, melancholic tone to your words that makes his heart ache. 

“yes- no, i don’t really know,” shoulders slumping, giving up all hope of ever understanding the things he was feeling. 

your lips purse, the mattress dipping as you stand, unwilling to give any more energy to the conversation. “why don’t you sleep it off here?” still refusing to re-meet his eye, “i’ll take the couch, alright? you just.. get some sleep,” slinking off to the door before he can protest. 

“wai-,” but you’re gone.  

left on his own in your room. 

he can’t help but think that you should be here too, the first time he’d gathered enough courage to come to your house and he’d pissed you off that badly, you had to sleep on the couch. 

all he wants is for this to be normal. to take you out like he did the other girls, show you off to his friends and be proud of it too. 

steve wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want that, but he wanted to at least tell you.

screw tommy hagan and anyone else that had anything to say about it. 

he stumbles out of your bedroom, trying to remember which way to go to reach the steep stairs. god he hopes robin isn't down there with you. they'd interacted for no more than five minutes and yet he could already sense her general distaste for him.

the floorboards creak under his weight, dragging his uncoordinated feet down until he hits the floor with a thud, missing the last few steps completely.

your head pokes out of the closed door, with what he hopes is worry on your face. "what the fuck? are you okay?" rushing over to his crumpled body. this would all be highly entertaining if he weren't in the midst of an identity crisis.

"i'm good, i'm okay," clinging onto your arm. rather than standing to get to your level, he decides that dragging you down onto the floor with him is the best way to confess. ignoring your shrieks of complaint as you land harshly on his lap.

"what are you doing?" unable to hold back the maniacal cackle any longer.

"i'm trying to tell you something," steve mumbles, pressing his forehead against yours in hopes the words would somehow telepathically absorb through your skin.

they don't, obviously. because that's not how this works.

"i think that i," he hiccups,, sliding his hand down your arm to grasp your hand, "i think i really, really like you," stammering through his half-assed confession. on further thought, he probably should've waited until morning before deciding to unleash this unto you. "and i think that i've been an asshole to you," swallowing the gargantuan lump in his throat, "and i want to- only if you want to," earnestly gazing into your eyes, his thumb tracing your soft knuckle.

"want to what, steve?"

"i want to be with you, like.. dating or- or your boyfriend," hoping that now you’d understand his stammering, incoherent words.

your face displays something he can’t place, twisting the knife in his chest completely to only ease up when your lips twitch, “i think you’re drunk,” brushing off his confession.

steve wants to scream, he’d laid himself bare for you and while he probably didn’t deserve to call you his girlfriend, he also didn’t deserve to never get the chance to ask.

“i am,” admitting to his sins, “but i mean it,” nodding his head against yours, putting your hand to his chest, “i want it, i want you.”

your lips purse, he hates it when you do that. still unable to get through that mysterious shell you’re clinging onto, leaving him to try and guess what you’re thinking. most girls were fairly obvious in the way they treated steve. either fawning over him or they’d argue until he’d hate it and ghost them.

“even if everyone knows?” slowly opening up to the idea of you two. or at least he hopes so.

“especially if everyone knows.”

it’s a stark contrast from the embarrassingly nervous wreck he was at the bar, too terrified to even look you in the eye. he’d decided that it just wasn’t him. you deserved better and steve couldn’t stand to watch anyone other than himself give you that.

“..okay,” you blink, lashes brushing against his skin as they flutter, “but i’m gonna ask you again in the morning,” narrowing your eyes, ever the voice of caution.

steve just grins, morning couldn’t come soon enough if that was all it’d take to get you to believe him.

[vigilskept]

not committing to this yet, but a potential solution:

rather than acquiring a fragment of mythal as a physical item the way you do in game, rook has to take on the fragment of mythal personally. the encounter can still go two ways: if you fight her, you can gain her essence/power in the way that solas does in trespasser. all her strength but none of her spirit. if you earn her respect, you can instead become a vessel for this fragment of mythal as flemeth did.

attempting to rework the veilguard finale so the powerscaling isn't so messed up but honestly...... this might be a lost cause.

you can make some OP builds in this game but there is no conceivable way you or any of your party at their current level of abilities should even be getting close enough to land a hit on elgar'nan (wiped out an entire field of spirits and ancient elves during the raid on his fortress in the blink of an eye) or solas (turnd an entire platoon of qunari into a statue garden without breaking a sweat)

[bigification]

Hey there would you like to try out these special perfumes? I can guarantee you will feel like a muscle daddy without even need to lift any weight. Some minor physical changes are just slight side effects don't worry about it.

"Some minor what? Sorry it's loud in here, I couldn't quite hear what you said."

I get on my top toes, trying to get closer to your level so I can hear you better.

"Some perfume? Oh... sure I might as well if it's free."

I grab the small black bottle of perfume and spray it on my wrist to test what it smells like.

"Oh god, that smells awful. Is that... sweat?"

I cough as the pungent smell engulfs me. I violently rub my wrist to get rid of the smell, but it only seems to be getting stronger.

*RIIIIIIIIPPP*

The sound of fabric ripping distracts me from the smell. The sound came from my sleeves, which are now torn to shreds.

"Is my arm... bigger than before?"

I poke and prod my now rock solid biceps as they continue to grow. I stare for a few seconds, mesmerized by the sight of my arms swelling, but I snap myself out of it.

"What is happening to me?"

Why am I growing? Why do I reek? Why can't I remember how I got here? All questions that are running through my mind. I can't think about that right now though. My clothes feel so tight.

*TEEEEAAAAARRRRRRR*

The sound of fabric tearing once again echoes around me. I look down to see my shirt has fallen to the floor in pieces, leaving me shirtless. Not that I mind showing off my bod, I've been hitting the gym so I could show it off. Wait, hold on a minute, I don't go to the gym. I look down at my swelling pecs and wonder how they got that big, and when did I get such a ripped six pack. It's because I earned it at the gym. Yeah, of course I go to the gym every day.

"I'm having trouble thinking, but I must've just had a sick workout if I smell like this."

I giggle to myself, breathing in my own stench. Of course I'm proud of it, it's a sign of hard work dedication.

*POP!*

I watch as the button on my fly flings across the room. It distracts me from admiring my upper body. My thighs expand until my jeans are bursting at the seams, and I feel the pressure build as my ass perks up. It doesn't take long for my jeans to also end up on the floor in pieces.

"Why does this feel so good bro."

My now massive man hands slide down my crotch as my once average dick starts to grow. Adding inches by the second, it sticks straight up past my belly button. Finally settling at a monstrous 10 inches long and as girthy as a pop can.

*SNAAAPPPP*

With comic timing, my feet burst through my shoes as they grow from a modest size 10 to a hulking size 16. But the euphoria of watching my muscles expand in front of my eyes is interrupted by a sudden lethargic feeling. I'm not as spry as I was in my twenties. Wait no, I'm in my twenties now. Well that can't be right, I just celebrated my 45th birthday. Who gives a fuck how old I am if I'm built like this.

"I gotta check these gains out bro."

I turn to the mirror beside me, and flinch when I see my reflection. My face... it's different I think. I run my hand through my thinning hair and over my five o'clock shadow. It feels so new but so familiar. The square jaw, wide nose, and wrinkles show the years, no, decades I've worked to have a sick bod like this.

"You like what you see, son?"

My gruff voice echoes around the room as I start to show off my bulging muscles. I love showing off to pipsqueaks like you, you're the perfect height to stare at my muscle tits. Don't feel bad about it, most guys are.

"You got something for me? A cigar? Nah bro, that shits not for me."

I would never put poison like that in my body unless it made me bigger. My body is a temple. But... now that you mention it, I am kind of craving a cigar right now.

"Damn that shit smells kinda good tho. It's a Cuban cigar? Give me that."

I snatch the massive cigar from you and stick it into my mouth.

"Got a ligh-"

I'm interrupted as you pull out a match.

"Old fashioned, I respect that bro."

I take a deep breath in, really letting that smoke settle in my lungs. I don't smoke often, so I gotta make the high worth it. Though something feels different this time, I can feel the smoke coating my lungs.

"What is happening? Side effects?"

I look at the bottle of perfume and see written in bold, "Do not smoke or take any drugs while using this product." I continue reading.

"Side effects may include; weight gain-"

I feel my stomach drop as I'm reading it. I look down in horror as I see a distended muscle gut where my abs used to be.

"Hormone imbalance."

My pecs swell into a pair of man tits that hang over my gut and my nipples perk up, making them impossible to hide under a shirt. My ass also widens as it becomes more soft and rounded. Worst of all, I feel my balls shrivel up like prunes. I quickly grab a pair of gym shorts that are conveniently resting beside me. Not many men are 6"6 and 300 pounds like me, how lucky that there was a pair of shorts that fit me.

"Excessive body hair."

I can feel an intense itchiness as my once hairless body is covered head to toe in a thick forest of salt and pepper hair. Especially around my chest and gut. I can also feel my five o'clock shadow grow into a bushy goatee and mustache.

"Male pattern baldness."

A cold sensation engulfs my head as my hairline starts to rapidly recede, even more than it already had. My hairline moves further and further back until I'm left with a strip of short and thin hair on the back of my head.

"Addiction."

My body suddenly feels drained, like I have a severe fever. I instinctively pull my cigar to my mouth and take a deep breath in. The smoke fills my lungs, and just like that I feel great again.

"Why are you still staring, kid. You really want a piece of all this?"

I grab you by the collar, letting you smell smoke off my breath and the sweat from my skin.

"Only real men can handle me. So why don't we fix that."

I yank you closer to me before pulling out the perfume and spraying it into your face. It makes me smile when you try to brush away the pungent fragrance.

"The smell will grow on you, son."

[yuwuta]

yuuji who canonically does care for hoodies but wears them anyway untik he gets a gf and she loves hoodies so she’s always stealing & wearing his which he doesn’t mind, in fact it kinda turns him on a bit, like yeah he admires you and thinks it’s cute and ur beautiful in his clothes but something abt it also gets him hard and he lovesss fucking you in his hoodie walk with me

i’m walking with you…. i am….. and honestly don’t put it past him to be all over you the second he catches you in his hoodie, and by all over you i mean all over you. you hardly get the word “hello,” in when you greet him because yuuji’s got your face in his hands and his lips on your lips, and very shortly after, your body over his shoulder as he carries you to the bedroom. 

it’s a haste of very enthusiastic and messy kisses, yuuji clumsily stripping himself of his own clothing, and you attempting to follow suit when he stops you, catching your wrists in his hands and telling you, “no—no, just… keep it on,” and you don’t have time to protest or process his words because he’s back to kissing you, and forcing you even further back into the mattress and shoving. the only way he could possibly express what he’s feeling right now is pure possession and it’s honestly a little striking to him—he’s never felt such a strong need to have you and claim you as his but something about you in his stupid hoodie is doing it to him and even tho he can’t get the words out he doesn’t have to, it’s awfully evident by the way he fucks you. it’s not fast but it’s hard and deep and you feel so full of him and he can barely keep his head up, forehead falling to the crook of your neck, teeth sinking into your skin for another point of contact

he’s so torn between wanting to look down at you while he’s fucking you in his hoodie and the sight being too overwhelming for him. it’s an inconsistent oscillation of him breaking into your neck and biting and lifting his head to reveal blown out pupils and a dopey little grin, pushing all the way inside you and stuttering for a moment before cupping your cheeks between his palms and just looking at you. you’re writing a bit, itching for him to move and drunk on feeling so full of him and it makes yuuji chuckle just a little, leaning down to press his forehead against yours and kiss you so deeply it has you pawing mindlessly at his shoulders, his waist, anything to get a hold of him. and one isn’t enough, he does it again, and again until you’re whining at him to move again and that pulls another laugh out of him, “sorry baby, i gotchu,” he raises his head, pushing the flyaways out of your face and kissing your forehead before resuming to fuck you within an inch of your life again

[grlsbstshot]

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters):

Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Chapters:

Neon Lights Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: while imani processes her lingering pain over jameson’s constant betrayals, jameson reels from her inattention. torn between loyalty to her best friend and processing her own feelings, genie grapples with guilt and anxiety while ej does his best to take care of her. sloane attempts to celebrate the split between jameson and imani but genie intervenes.

Warnings: toxic relationship, them b words! (watch them b words!), explicit terminology, dirty talk (kinda), usage of the n-word (if you white and read it, you owe us $20) -- if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 5.6k Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Notes: 

The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

1 week after Sloane's party

Jameson leaned against the kitchen counter, his phone clutched in his hand as he stared at the screen in surprise. The image of Christian reflected back at him and he briefly wondered when he even started following that nigga. A quick glance to the left-hand corner told him it was Imani's Instagram account. Imani? With Christian? He couldn't even see that bastard's face but knew he was probably happy as fuck to be with Imani.

Look who came to visit.

The caption made his stomach churn. There was nothing downright explicit or implicated more but the simple fact that she had taken the picture, thought of the caption, and posted it? It made him sick. He knew for a fact she couldn't stand him. After things ended abruptly between Christian and Genie, Imani hadn't seen it for him. Ever. But now they were close enough for him to visit?

Texts left on read. Calls that went straight to voicemail. The silence was deafening.

Jameson immediately left the app and went to his messages, texting her a blitz of...admittedly emotional responses. She still hadn't responded to any of the ones before. He put his phone face down on the counter, trying to rein in his temper. He didn’t need to read the comments to know what they said. Fans were undoubtedly cheering it on. Shit talking about how 'cute' he probably was. Wondering if she had finally replaced him.

What if she had? What if the space where he stood was going to belong to another person? Not just Christian -- anybody? That was enough to turn his stomach.

Jameson's hand clenched into a fist and he turned around, hitting the first thing he saw...which so happened to be EJ's fridge. His fist dented the medal but it hurt him a hell of a lot more than it did the inanimate object.

“Ay, muhfucka! I got that imported from France. Watch that shit. What's your problem?” Jameson glanced up to see EJ rounding the corner, a cup of coffee in his hand. He couldn't quite blame his best friend for being irritated but he was going through some shit.

“Her Instagram.” Jameson muttered, nodding toward his phone. EJ walked over, picked up the phone, and whistled low when he saw the post. “Ain't this a bitch.” He scrolled through the comments briefly before setting the phone down. “They have a ship name too. Chrismani sound stupid tho.”

Jameson glared at him and EJ quickly put the phone down, shrugging. "My bad, man." “What am I supposed to do? She’s not answering my calls. She’s ignoring my texts. And now she’s letting him—” Jameson cut himself off, shaking his head. He didn't know what the fuck the two had going on but either way, he didn't like that shit.

“Letting him what? Exist?” EJ raised an eyebrow. “Because that’s what it looks like to me. You give this nigga way too much power, man. Genie has a history with him, right? You know Imani. She not going too far with him."

Jameson frowned at EJ. He was right but he also knew..."Please. If you saw the girl you loved posted up with somebody else a week after ignoring your calls, you'd be tripping too." He didn't know what to do when it came to Imani. “She told me to choose. I could be friends with Sloane or I could be with her.”

EJ set his coffee down and crossed his arms, leaning against the counter as he stared at his best friend. “Okay? So Sloane's out. Now what?" Jameson began to rub his hand over his fist, rolling his eyes in agitation. "It's not that easy!"

EJ cocked his head, leaning against the counter as he stared at Jameson with wide eyes. "Fuck you mean it's not that easy? Lose a friend, gain a girlfriend. Besides, Genie don't like her and Genie likes everybody. That's how you know something is up with her."

Jameson sighed softly, reaching to snatch his phone off the counter again. EJ had a point. Genie and Sloane had fallen out around the time he and Imani had become serious. He never knew what happened but wanted them both to feel like they could count on him. He didn't want to take sides. His friend vs his sister? He didn't want to decide. "Sloane doesn't have anybody."

"She had a house full of people at that party last week." "None of those people give a shit about her." "And you do?" "Of course I do." "You want that girl?" "No! No. I'm so fucking tired of being accused of that shit. I've known her since she was fifteen. I knew her when she could barely look you in the eyes when she was talking to you. She was lonely as fuck. And she's still lonely. I'm sorry I feel guilty abandoning her."

Jameson saw EJ's face change. From confusion to understanding all in an instant and for some reason -- he hated it. "You keep saying you're 'abandoning' her. You're not, man. She's a grown up." Jameson braced himself, knowing what EJ was going to say next. "She's not you and you are not your father."

He shut it down within a second, shaking his head as he quickly moved out of the kitchen. His father was a forbidden subject. Nobody brought the man up. Not his mother, not the press. Nobody. As far as the world was concerned, it was just Anais and James Lucas against the world. "It's not about that, man. I just don't want to abandon my friend."

"Do you want Imani back?" EJ called out to him, following. "Of course I do." "Let Sloane go. You can't let her think Christian is the only muhfucka that cares about how she feels. Let her go."

Jameson stared at him, the words sinking in.

“You’ve got options,” EJ said, approaching him and patting his hand against Jameson's shoulder. “Write her a song. Send her flowers. Show up at the studio if you have to. You flew to fucking Italy within a minute. Why are you hesitating now? Don't sit there and let this nigga come take what's yours."

Jameson hesitated. “You think that’ll work?”

EJ shrugged. “I think it’s better than...you know. Punching my shit and stalking her on Instagram. You’ve always been a fighter, J. Don’t stop now.”

Jameson nodded slowly, his mind already spinning with ideas. EJ clapped him on the shoulder before heading out of the kitchen, leaving Jameson alone with his thoughts. He unlocked the phone in his hand and went back to Instagram, staring at the picture of Christian on her page. It was bullshit but EJ was right. He couldn't give up on her. He swore he never would.

The texts came through fast, almost as if he didn't have to think about what he was sending. She didn't take any pleasure in his reaction. Not really. But Imani needed something to flip that damn switch in Jameson's mind. He needed to know she wasn't playing. The mention of Genie made her heart hurt though. She texted her before she posted the picture of Christian but there had been no response. There hadn't been a response afterward either and Imani was praying she didn't hold this against her.

She forced herself not to finish reading Jameson's texts. She closed out the messages and went back to Instagram. Cross-legged on her couch, the soft glow of her phone screen illuminating her face in the dim living room, she scrolled through the comments on her post.

The likes were climbing rapidly, as they always did. Thousands of comments flooded in, a mix of excitement, speculation, and blatant nosiness.

"With your bestie ex? Oh, messy Mani." "What about Jameson tho? 👀" "Girl, you’re glowing without him. Keep winning!"

Her thumb hovered over that last comment, her heart clenching. Glowing without him. Was she?

She tossed her phone onto the cushion beside her, leaning back against the couch. The praise and speculation didn’t fill the hollow ache that had been gnawing at her for days. It wasn’t about Christian—he was nothing. She felt absolutely nothing for the man. She got the vibe that he wanted something with her but Imani couldn't tell if he was delusional or just stupid to really think she'd give him the time of day after he was with her best friend. Then again...People thought that's exactly what she was doing.

The post wasn’t about him though. It was about the one person who wasn’t tagged, wasn’t mentioned, but was still present in every corner of her mind.

Jameson.

He kept letting her down. Choosing other people over her. She wouldn't him do it again. She closed her eyes, and the memories came rushing back like a tidal wave.

It was late, and the city lights outside their hotel room window shimmered like stars. She remembered sitting on the edge of the bed, the air thick with tension. Jameson stood in front of her, his hands trembling as he admitted the unthinkable. The night he ruined their relationship. All their problems went back to that one moment. “I slept with her.” he’d said, his voice raw and cracking. “I'm so sorry. Mani, I...I don't know what the fuck I was thinking. I was drunk. I swear to god.” Her heart had shattered in that moment, the weight of his words crushing her. She remembered the way her chest had tightened, the disbelief that had turned into anger, then grief. They were done, she knew that. He knew that. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Huh? It's fuck me, huh?!” she’d whispered, her voice trembling. Her entire body shaking. “I trusted you. I gave you everything.” “Mani, please,” he’d begged, dropping to his knees in front of her, reaching for her hands. She snatched them away, trying to get up from the bed but Jameson grasped her by the waist, keeping her trapped. She pushed against his shoulders, twisting out of his grasp as tears filled her eyes. “I'm going to fix it, baby. I swear to god, I'll fix it. I'm sorry.” "Let me go! You can't fix this shit!" "Yes, I can. I can fix it. I'll be better." "Jameson. You just told me you fucked another bitch and you really think I'm going to give you a chance to fix it? We're done. It's over."

She opened her eyes, the memory dissipating like smoke, but the sting remained. She reached for her phone again, scrolling back to her post. The comments about Jameson were multiplying, each one a reminder of the life they’d shared and the pain he’d caused.

She couldn’t go back to that. She wouldn’t.

Her thumb hovered over the delete button for a moment before she pulled her hand away. No, she thought. Let him have to keep seeing it. Let him wonder. Let the tags in the comments be a reminder. “You won't get to the chance to play me again.” she whispered, her voice steady.

With that, she exited the app, her resolve solidifying. If Jameson wanted her back, he’d have to do more than beg. He’d have to prove he was worthy of her trust—and she wasn’t sure she’d ever believe that again.

Imani opened her texts, shooting a message to her engineer and manager. She had written so much shit when she was trying to get over the betrayal Jameson had done -- it was enough for albums. Why not use this pain to start a new chapter in her life? She spent so much of her time worrying about him. It was time to worry about herself. Her music. Her career.

Genie had done her best to put it out of her mind. The picture was exploding all over social media. She'd been tagged in it almost as much as Jameson was and each time made her chest tighten. The knot of anxiety she’d been carrying all day pulling tighter. She promised to meet EJ for lunch and had arrived early, sitting primly and perfectly -- covered in Chanel. Her beautiful dark coils pressed perfectly and swept back in a french curl. She looked much better than she felt.

She had known Imani was going to post it. The text had come hours before, but Genie hadn’t responded. She’d stared at the message, her thumb hovering over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. What could she say? No one knew the whole story of she and Christian. All she told Imani was that it was over. But shouldn't that have been enough? Of all the men to use to make Jameson jealous, why him?

She had complicated feelings about Imani playing with Jameson's feelings as well -- but it wasn't as if she didn't have good reason. He was her brother but he was an idiot sometimes. The image was out in the world and Genie felt that her silence was almost complicity in hurting Jameson. If the gossip was correct, Sloane was a thorn in their relationship and Genie knew a surefire way to get her out.

EJ finally arrived and Genie glanced up to see him making his way to their table -- led by the hostess. A smile curved her lips as the two maintained eye contact. She had never been so enamored with a man before. Even that crush she had on Christian had been bullshit compared to how EJ made her feel. They kept their relationship fairly casual. After their night at Sloane's party, he had been with her every step of the way, reassuring her and being patient with her. He was more than she deserved.

Before he sat down, he came to her side of the table and kissed her softly. It was a brief touch of his lips but the stiffness in her shoulders relaxed. She felt the tightening of her chest relax and for a minute, she felt like she could breathe. "Hi, baby." He told her softly, moving to take his seat as she poured him a glass of wine. His sharp eyes flicking to the phone on the table. “I guess you've seen it.,” he said, nodding toward it. “Jamie isn't too happy either.”

Genie hesitated, then nodded to confirm she saw it. “She said it was to make Jameson jealous, but…” She trailed off, placing the bottle back on the table. "I don't know. It seems so out of character for her. Mani can be petty but she doesn't waste her time with people she doesn't give a fuck about. I don't think she understands what she's getting into."

EJ nodded, lifting his hand to gesture to a waiter for a glass of water. He was totally different from her. He worried about their friends but Genie took it totally to heart. Probably because she loved them both. EJ loved Jameson -- she was sure he hadn't decided how he felt about Imani yet. "I told him to go get his girl back. But I kind of regret it now."

Genie prepared herself to defend Imani. Jameson was her brother but she wasn't ready to absolve him of his sins. Especially when the reason their relationship was so chaotic was because he cheated a year ago. "They love each other so that wasn't a mistake. They just...they can't seem to get it together.," she said softly. “This is going to make everything worse. For her. For Jameson. For everyone.”

EJ leaned back, studying her with a mix of concern. “Did you tell her that?”

“I...I couldn't." Genie sighed, then immediately regretted the admission. “I mean, I wanted to. But what was I supposed to say? ‘Don’t post him because he’s a jerk who’s going to ruin your life?’ I didn't want her to think I was jealous.”

EJ raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

Genie opened her mouth to deny it, but the words caught in her throat. She had been jealous at the party. It had caused a twinge to her heart to see a man she used to want choosing other women over her. Women she loved deeply and respected. He had already taken Sloane. Now Imani? She had been scared. But as she gazed at EJ, she knew he was one of a kind. There wasn't a man like him in the world. How dare she be jealous over a man who wasn't worth it when one who was sat in front of her. “I’m not jealous. Anymore.,” she said finally, reaching across the table to take his hand. “I’m scared. For her. For Jameson. I don’t want to see either of them hurt. Between Sloane and Christian, their relationship could easily snap.”

EJ’s expression softened. He reached out and took her hand, brushing his thumb back and forth across her skin, “You worry too much about other people, Genie. It’s gonna tear you apart if you let it.”

Genie looked down at his hand, the warmth of his touch grounding her. “I can’t help it,” she murmured.

“I know. You got the kind of heart I love. But maybe it’s time you focused on you,” EJ said gently. “Let them figure it out. You’ve got your own life to live, Genie. Your own man to worry about."

"Oh? Are you my man?" "Didn't you cum on my face a few times? I could have sworn last night that you begged me to --"

Genie's eyes went wide as she peered around the restaurant to see if anyone heard him. No one did but her reaction made EJ laugh. She snatched her hand from his, reaching over to slap his wrist.

"Stop it! Don't say that out loud!" "It's true. You did. And you're gonna do it again when we leave here." "Is that all you're going to do?" "For now." "What if I want more?" "I gotta make sure you're ready. So stop babysitting everybody else and let me take care of you for a change." "Yes, sir." "Ooh. Keep that up. I like that."

She smiled faintly, though the knot in her stomach didn’t loosen. For the rest of the lunch, she and EJ didn't mention Jameson and Imani but her gaze kept straying to the phone. Thoughts of Christian and Sloane filtered through her mind. For her last act of babysitting -- she was going to make sure they didn't ruin Imani and Jameson's second chance. If they couldn't get it right, it had to be on their own terms. Not anybody else's.

It was nightfall by the time Genie managed to convince EJ to let her out of bed. He asked her to let everyone figure their shit out but she had to get this out. Once she promised him she'd wash her hands of it after talking to Jameson, he gave her a kiss and let her go. Texting Jameson and telling him it was an emergency was probably dramatic but he shared his location with her. When she pulled up to the recording studio, he was waiting outside -- leaning against his Range Rover.

He watched her curiously as she parked and got out, lifting his hand to press to her shoulder as he escorted her inside -- like an annoyed but worried older brother would. When they were settled in a quiet, private studio, finally he leaned in and nudged her arm. "Talk. You kind of scaring me."

They sat in front of the mixing console, a track playing lowly in the background. Genie could tell it was one of his. She knew his voice anywhere but hadn't heard this song before. She understood a few words here and there but couldn't catch the rhythm of the song. Jamie looked tense, his shoulders stiff. She knew he hadn't been able to shake the thoughts of Imani and Christian from his mind.

“What’s going on?”

Genie hesitated, the weight of what she was about to say pressing down on her. She took a deep breath and shrugged out of her jacket. "There’s a lot you don’t know. Things I’ve been keeping to myself because I didn’t want to -- Well, I wasn't brave enough to do what Imani did. I didn't want to make you choose. But after everything that’s happened -- Imani, that post, the way Christian's been acting -- I can’t stay quiet anymore.”

Jameson’s expression darkened, a storm brewing in his eyes as he grasp her hands in his. “What did he do?”

Genie exhaled shakily, her voice trembling as she began. “Christian and I -- it was a fluke from the beginning. Maybe I was too presumptive but I...I told Sloane how I felt. She encouraged me to pursue him. So I did. I put myself out there." Tears filled her eyes as she thought of the way she had embarrassed herself. The sting of being rejected had faded but losing Sloane -- knowing what she had done? That would never go away.

"I found them together. At your afterparty for the Grammys. They were...Well, they were fucking. In your pool house. I didn't say a word. I turned around and left but I confronted Sloane afterward." Genie took a breath and forced herself to continue. "She didn’t even deny it. Said it was no big deal because...it wasn't like he wanted me anyway. He liked someone else. She knew and didn't tell me. I stopped talking to her that night.”

She felt his grip around her fingers tighten for a moment before they relaxed. The look on his face was...a lot like hers the night Sloane had shown who she was. Devasated. Confused. Disbelief. “She said that to you?”

Genie nodded, her throat tightening as tears fell. “I told Christian I was sorry. Can you believe it? I apologized for not being who he wanted. It was embarrassing. I'm starting to think who he wanted...was Imani.”

Jameson shook his head but all the pieces were falling into place. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding her.”

“Yes,” Genie said, her voice firmer now as she pulled her hands free and wiped her eyes. “And it’s why I think you need to let her go, J. Do what Imani said. Choose her. Sloane only cares about herself and she’s only going to drag you down.”

Jameson leaned back in his seat. “She was your friend. I wouldn't even know her if it wasn't for you. You loved her before anybody else and she...she did that to you.”

“Yes,” Genie said gently. “If anybody knows what it's like to see the best in Sloane, it's me. I always saw it. Until she showed me something else, Jameson. Don't wait until she shows you.”

He looked up at her then, a spark of anger in his eyes. "And Christian?”

Genie’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I don't know. He may really like Imani but she...she deserves better." She may be there to help Jameson fix things but she couldn't bring herself to tell him that Imani was just trying to make him jealous. Loyalty to both kept her conflicted.

They sat in silence for a while so Jameson could process everything. He was distracted, clearly overwhelmed, but she knew what he would do when he spoke next. "I love you, you know?" he told Genie softly, his voice thick with emotion. "You and your dad...you two gave me and Ma everything we needed to feel like a family. You're my sister, Genie. I wouldn't ever let anybody hurt you."

She gave him a faint smile, tears filling her eyes again. For somebody who could write music, he had never been eloquent with her about his feelings. They irritated each other like siblings but she had never truly said it to him. "I love you too." Genie said softly. “I wouldn't ever let anybody hurt you either. That's why Sloane has to get out of our lives. Now.”

Jameson nodded, agreeing without words. “I threw everything away with Imani to be loyal to somebody who didn't deserve it.”

Genie reached out, squeezing his knee. “It may not be over. Try it. Let her know you choose her. Over anything. Even if you guys don't work it out, at least you’ll know you did everything you could. But you can’t move forward if you’re still holding onto people like Sloane.”

He nodded slowly, the weight of her words sinking in. “You’re right,” he said finally.

Genie smiled faintly, relief washing over her. “Good. Now, go clean up your mess.”

He gave her a small, rueful laugh. “I'm not good at that.”

“Get good at it.,” she said, standing and placing a kiss to his forehead...before slapping him on the back of the neck. Jameson flinched but only stared up at her. “Consider this my retirement from worrying about you and Imani. My man told me to stop.”

His brows furrowed as she turned to leave the studio. "What man?!" he called out after her. Genie ignored him and continued on to her car to get back home to EJ.

God had to have a sense of humor. No sooner had he watched Genie zip off in her car, he'd gotten a text from Sloane. A dinner invitation. He had been seconds from texting a denial but he knew this message was better delivered in person -- so he agreed to show up. He spent the entire drive to her place stewing in anger -- pissed at her and himself. He had spent months bringing this girl around Genie, around Imani. Begging them to give her a shot. He hadn't even asked why she and Genie had fallen apart. He was a shit friend and a shit boyfriend.

The elevator doors slid open, and Jameson stepped into the hallway leading to Sloane’s penthouse. His jaw tight and he had no idea how to release his tension. He had no idea what he planned to say. There was so much in his head. All he wanted to do was yell at her. Make her give him a valid reason for the shit she'd been doing. The weight of Genie’s confession bore down on him, and the idea of confronting Sloane left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He knocked twice, his knuckles rapping sharply against the wood. Moments later, the door swung open, and Sloane appeared, her face lighting up like the sun.

“Jamie! Just in time! Dinner is almost done.” she exclaimed, pulling the door wide for him to enter. When he did so, she immediately wrapped her arms around him. “Hi. I missed you.”

Her perfume was light and airy. In another place, another time, he probably would have complimented her on it and told her that he missed her too. And that would have been the wrong thing to do. Becoming disillusioned with Sloane made him notice everything. The way she clung to him, the way she looked up at him with bright eyes, the darkened apartment, the Ella Fitzgerald album -- one of his favorites -- playing softly in the background. He stood stiffly, not hugging her back but it didn't seem to phase her. She took her time hugging him, only pulling back when she deemed it was over.

Jameson’s expression didn’t waver. “We just saw each other last week at the party, Sloane,” he said, his voice cutting sharper than the edge of a blade.

She blinked, momentarily thrown off by his tone. “I know. It still feels like it’s been a minute…”

Jameson stepped further away from her, his movements deliberate. He glanced around, noting the intimate setup of the dining table—a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a single candle flickering softly. The oven lit up with the smell of a dinner that he couldn't quite place. Genie had lit the match but everything was ablaze now. Imani's accusations were crystal clear in his mind. God, she had been right.

“I saw Imani posted Christian on Instagram,” Sloane said, her voice carefully measured. “I’m sorry…you don’t deserve that.”

Jameson’s jaw tightened as he stood with his back with her, trying to get a grasp on his anger. “Imani's mine to worry about.”

“I-I know,” Sloane stammered, moving closer to him. Her voice softened, dripping with concern. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you, Jamie.” She reached out for his hand, her fingers brushing against his. “You can call me if you need anything.”

Jameson didn’t move. His demeanor was rigid, his body language screaming discomfort. He didn’t bother to touch her hand, his gaze fixed on hers with an intensity that made her falter.

“Is everything okay?” Sloane asked, her voice uncertain. She tilted her head, her lips curving into a small, confused smile. “You’re not acting like my Jamie.”

"Did you fuck Christian?" he asked her abruptly, tilting his head to look at her. He saw it for a second. For one second, she looked caught off guard. She looked...exposed. But then the guard went up, her brow furrowed and she gave him a laugh. He could see her about to lie. "Don't. Don't you dare lie to me. I've had enough of that."

She hesitated but then moved away, heading back to the table. She tripped over her own heels and clumsily poured herself a glass of wine. Jameson finally moved, the tension draining from his body the more he confronted her. Sloane lifted the glass to gulp down wine before Jameson continued on. "Genie told me everything." He watched her choke on the liquid, leaning forward as she coughed loudly and took deep breaths. "And I got to thinking -- if she could do that to her best friend...what else could she do?"

She turned wide eyes to him as she continued to try to catch her breath. "Christian was...a mistake." She gasped out, shaking her head. "It was just a night. We were drunk! We got carried away!"

He heard the same mistakes he gave Imani and his stomach churned again, shaking his head. "You destroyed someone who loved you. Better than anyone else. Do you think that excuse works? You hurt the kindest fucking person in the world. And you hurt her because you could. You humiliated her! And you act like nothing happened! You didn't even have the fucking decency to tell her you're sorry!"

Sloane’s lips parted, but no words came out. She looked at him, searching for some sign of forgiveness, but all she could see was disappointment and anger. It's all he had left for her.

“I believed in you. Imani told me to choose and I...I said I wouldn't but I did. I fucking chose you because I thought you were a good person. I thought you needed me. A friend.” Jameson continued, his voice low and steady.

"I do need you!" "You don't need me! You want me. There's a fucking difference, Sloane!"

He heard his phone notifications go off but he ignored it. Even when it continued, he kept going. His gaze didn't leave Sloane's. Her eyes filled with tears as she reached out for him but he sidestepped her hand. She clenched her fingers tightly and sobbed quietly but he didn’t flinch. "Jamie, please. I’m sorry. I never meant—”

“Are you in love with me?” he interrupted, his tone weary. He didn't need the confession but he asked anyway. “If you ever cared about me, tell me the truth.”

Sloane froze before she gave the slightest nod. That nod hit him hard in the gut.

"You want to hear what I feel?" He asked her and watched as she closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head. She knew he didn't love her. She couldn't bear to hear the words. But Jameson figured it out now. A hard lesson to learn but...he had to give them to her. "I love Imani. I love everything about her. I love her so much that I don't know how to live without her. She makes me want to be better. I love the way she loves Genie. I love the way she loves me. And I gave that up twice. I keep hurting her and I did it again. This time...for you. And I regret it."

The more he spoke, the more she cried. "I'm sorry I brought us to this. You can blame me for it. Not Imani. Goodbye, Sloane." He moved towards the door and she followed him. Her phone rang out loud and she hesitated, tears blurring her eyes as she turned back to the kitchen. He didn't stop moving.

As he reached for the handle, she called out, her voice breaking. “Jamie, wait—Please! Don't leave me.”

He paused but didn’t turn around. Guilt grabbed a hold of him again but he pushed it away, knowing that enabling Sloane would only hurt her further...so he opened the door and walked out. It clicked shut behind him and for a moment, he stood there, trying to catch his breath. He heard her scream, throw things across the room, and yell out for him -- but he pretended he didn't.

Jameson walked towards the elevators, the anger he had carried up with him left behind in her place. He fished his phone out of his pocket, pushing the button for the ground floor as he read each text that came through but one caught his attention: a text from EJ that contained a link to Apple Music and an article.

R&B Sensation Imani releases surprise EP, Diary

As he browsed the article, the elevator doors pinged open and an avalanche of notifications from Instagram came in. Even more than when Imani posted the picture of Christian. To make matters worse, he got a shit ton of texts from friends and acquaintances. Half of them were the fucking eye emoji.

"Shit." He muttered to himself.

[criminal-sen]

Super secret Mayuri (drawn on a tablet at Best Buy). Also I have a question? For anyone who is Good At Computer? On what new.. device thingy.. I should get. Below a cut bc it's kinda long

So my folks have some outrageous coupon for this store (Best Buy), and they asked if there's anything for 3-400 usd I might want for Xmas. I'm torn between

a new laptop bc mine sucks and is slow as shit, tho my current one was also in this price range and has been outrageously slow for... most of the time ive owned it. So maybe I want to wait and save up for a better one? Or drop some of my own funds in addition? I dont even know why mine is slow, let alone what i might need. And i fucking HATE that 99% of new laptops have fucking touch screen??? Gtfo it's SO fucking pointless and just another way to hike up the price. I just... ughhh I want to scream, why is everything so STUPID AND SHITTY>:(

a Nintendo Switch (finally enough years have passed that it's lower in cost) my hope is that I finally play games? Like ever? Tho it might wind up collecting dust like my ps4.. but the handheld option is a plus. I wanna *Mario voice* wahooooo yipeeeee

A tablet? If I know for sure it'll run Procreate or whatever program is most common for these? I do love making traditional art tho, and using 'away from computer' time for it? And there's the added frustration of not knowing how to move a project between devices/drawing programs. I've managed to switch programs on my laptop thru file conversion - Sai to Krita and back - but iirc it was kinda iffy and I wound up with some unworkable files before I figured it out. I'm bad at this shit🤦‍♂️

So yah I'm torn. The Switch is the easiest option, bc I won't have to fuck with any 'how to computer' shit. But my laptop is REALLY fucked - doing simple things like 'use the internet' and 'open my art program' are often gratingly frustrating ordeals that last several minutes. But also, also, I do often wish I could tote around a little tablet to make digital art. Cuz even if working on the same thing between devices is iffy, it's not that big of a deal? I could just sit at my fucking desk and work on the tablet, like why.. would I even need to go between both🤦‍♂️ (<-am just realizing this). So all three options are like.. equally plausible in my mind

Suggestions are welcome😭 (<-im very thankful for the opportunity to Get New Thing but mad at my brain for being soooo devoid of relevant knowledge. Hence crying emoji)

[creation-help]

Hii! I've been on ur blog for a bit and all the writing advice is super duper helpful

I'm sort of having trouble with starting basically anything w writing right now. I'm a beginner, I feel like i really want to make something but at this point I'm sort of stumped 😭 I'm not sure how to come up with real ideas or how I should even start.

I want to get good at writing. I can draw but most of the time I don't really know what I want to cmake if that makes sense

Do you have advice for this? My apologies if you've already answered an ask like this before lol I don't mean to bother, I hope your having an amazing day <333

Hi! I understand this is a difficult situation but from the looks of It, I think your trouble is the mind jail you're in currently. We see it repeated on Tumblr often "Do it bad, do it imperfect, just do it", and I'd like to fully stand by that advice here when talking to you!

Struggles with starting

Really there's no easier way to say this, but you have to Just Start. However there are multiple ways to help you Just start!

- Have something to write with easily on hand at all times, you never know when the idea strikes! This can be phone or even a notepad!

- When the idea strikes GET IT. Pounce on it like a jaguar. Get itttt. If you don't feel like expanding on it, then leave it, but you need to start treating all possible ideas that you vibe with, as potential sprouts to grow! If you spend too much time second guessing or debating over if the idea is good enough or not, you Won't Write More. If the idea sucks, you don't have to commit! But don't let the ideas pass you by! If you get an idea catch it, write it down, find expansive questions to grow it with, get music, brainstorm, vibe, rest, repeat! You are always allowed to start and stop. You are the god of your writing.

- It is okay to suck. You don't have to be good to share, but you also don't even have to share if you don't want! You don't have to share anything to anyone!

Struggles with ideas

- Find inspiration. Where? Anywhere! Start new shows, new movies, read other people's writing, look at flowers on the sidewalk, ask your parents dumb Fandom questions, get into a new music genre. You don't have to follow through with everything but so long as you surround yourself with variety, you will be nurturing your creativity! Just get a steady flow of new stuff to enrich your brain. This is part of the soil your sprouts will need.

- Make mind maps, Google every little detail you can think of relating to your new idea when you have it (not so much you'd exhaust yourself tho!), interrogate yourself, ask people to ask you questions about your idea, go down pointless meanders and rabbitholes about the idea. Give it time to soak. Indulge it. Be a little pretentious over it even.

- Nothing is original anymore, and every different interpretation is valuable enough to exist. What you make is unique to yourself. These ideas all coexist

Struggles with skills

- I am going to say this very gently but firmly. You will get better by doing more. You will hone your skills by using them.

- There's loads of resources both online and irl to search from if you want to improve your writing! You can even try to imitate styles that you like and start moving from there. Kinda like how artists do Studies. You can also expand your vocabulary by searching up different words for things you already know, or words relating to the things you wanna write. It'll help lots! My personal recommendation for improving writing even a little bit is to be conscious of your word choices and make sure you don't overuse the same word too much, at least not in the same sentence. Unless that's the intended effect you're going for

As a closing statement I also wanna add that you should just take care of yourself in general. Sometimes your brain needs more enrichment to work better, or sometimes it just doesn't really give you much just because. Try not to get torn up over it and try again later.

Hope any of this helps! Be brave!

[sunshine-zenith]

(Different anon) one of ANW's writers talked on twitter about how the crew was thinking of bringing Timmy back in S1 (as the founder of the Galax Institute! neato), and that's a fascinating what-if, but I'm glad that the writers ultimately elected to hold off. I kinda agree with the other anon -- Timmy's doing a good job of haunting the narrative, right now. All the parts of ANW that he's (in)directly impacted fascinate me. And yet... I'd also love to see him again? The writers withholding him while they figure out how/where they want him to show up makes me hopeful that whenever he *does* debut in ANW, it'll be good.

I remember hearing that — it could’ve really worked with the episode, especially with how Crocker was specifically reminded of Timmy because of Hazel’s outfit (if Timmy had been the Galax Institute’s founder, this would’ve gone from a reference to actually pretty neat foreshadowing). Still, I’m glad that they didn’t go that route — I watched an Awestruck Vox video on the topic of Timmy a couple weeks ago and he pointed out that Timmy opening the Galax Institute could easily turn into a Crocker 2.0 situation, which I kinda agree with — I want Cosmo and Wanda to matter to him, and him spending his adult dedication to studying the supernatural is kinda cool, but I don’t want to see him derailed completely due to obsession

The more I think about it, the pickier I realize I am when it comes to adult Timmy lol — I definitely don’t want him to be miserable, otherwise it feels like Cosmo and Wanda’s love and efforts did nothing to help him in the end and the irl decade+ the OG series ran for was a waste; I don’t want to see him be a stick-at-home-in-denial-about-growing-up adult (which is why I avoided the live action movies as a kid, even if I knew he’d get character development); I’m torn on him becoming a fairy — if it happened during the OG series and he spent his life from childhood onward as a fairy, I’d be super down with that, because he’d officially be able to grow up with Cosmo and Wanda and never lose them because they’d be his actual adoptive parents, BUT learning the timeline where he became a fairy in canon is the timeline where he grew up, got in a serious relationship, and then died trying to save his loved ones is a little… why tho??; and overall I love that ANW is generally compliant with Channel Chasers, because seeing Timmy grow up to be a genuinely average, seemingly well adjusted adult with a loving family who, even if he doesn’t remember Cosmo and Wanda, still has positive feeling associated with them — it amazing to see as a kid… until it was revealed that his kids had their own awful babysitter and needed fairies. It was less a the story goes on moment and more a slap in the face, especially as a third grader

That said, I 100% trust the crew working on ANW. They did a great job with references to him in season 1, and if they want to bring him back in a potential season 2, I know they’ll do something wonderful. Plus, ANW has Infinity Train alumni working on it — if there’s any series that mastered balancing bringing character back and knowing when to leave characters behind, it’s that series