#I need a graffiti brush so bad

[verdesart]

Draw your favourite characters in your favourite album cover [challenge from twitter]

I forgot to draw the wheel

[plussizeficchick]

Artist Boyfriend | Jungkook x Chubby!Reader

Summary; “He’s not my real boyfriend, he’s my artist boyfriend.” (Loosely based on the movie “Dinner in America”, and this edit.)

Warnings: Street Artist!Jungkook, public sex, P in V, panty sniffing, breeding kink, mildly jealous Jungkook, somewhat bad boy!jk? (He runs from the law).

Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest when you hear someone practically fall into your flower shop. You lean your head over the oak counter, looking to see who it was. 

He had dark hair, the curls slick with sweat making them more pronounced. He was breathing heavily, and you’d be lying if you said his labored breaths weren’t causing a heat to build in your lower stomach. 

Get it together (Y/N)!

“Hey, you need some help?” Jungkook’s head jolts in the direction of your voice. You hold up your hands in mock surrender, showing that you mean no harm. 

This was bad. Really bad. Pretty soon the cops would be rounding the corner looking for “him” but there was nowhere for him to hide besides the flower shop that he accidentally stumbled into. “Uh, I-” He was at a loss for words as his eyes ran over your plump figure. 

You were fucking beautiful.

You wore an off the shoulder sundress that hugged your stomach and tits quite nicely, if he says so himself. Your thick thighs were on display, making his mouth water slightly at the thought of possibly feeling those wrapped around his head. 

“Mister?” You furrow your brows, what’s up with this guy? “Hide me.” Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. “Huh?!” He quickly shushes you, his warm eyes softening, almost pleading with you. “Please, hide me. I’ll explain after.” You don’t know what compels you, but you end up agreeing, hiding him behind your counter, just in time for the cops to rear their heads. 

“‘Scuse us ma’am, have you seen a young man running in this direction? Black ski mask, dark clothes, the like.” You do your best to be convincing, “Yeah! Saw him run down that way, though it looked like he hopped on a bus.” You shrug. The police turn their heads just in time to see a bus leaving the stop. One tosses his hat to the ground, visibly upset, “Damn it! We had that little shit! We were so close!” You’re a bit startled at the display, eyes shifting to the fugitive that you’ve essentially housed. “Calm down, Han before you scare the poor girl.” He gestures towards you. “We’ll get him next time. Thank you for your help, miss.” You bid them farewell, and when you’re sure that they won’t be returning, you lock your door, turning over the Out For Lunch sign.

“Explain.” You say, arms folded over your chest. You may not have meant to, but the action causes your breast to accentuate, the fat practically spilling over the top. Oh to feel the sweet softness, to feel them squeezed in the palm of his hands. To fuck his dick in the middle of the soft mounds of flesh. “Hello!” You wave your hand in front of his face. Maybe this was a bad idea? “What? Oh right- sorry. Well you see I did some graffiti and let’s just say, they didn’t take too kindly to me “defacing public property” or whatever.” He brushes off, hands resting in his black jean pocket.

He was attractive, in a sort of endearingly punk sort of way. He was dressed in majority black, with pops of color from the various wristbands that he had on each wrist. Said wristbands drew attention to his hands, the few veins that ran along them and his surprisingly long fingers. What you wouldn’t give to feel them inside you. Curling up and finding that delicious spot inside you. “Hey, miss?” He snaps his fingers in front of your face, was this what he was like? It was quite… amusing.

You snap out of your reverie, an adorable pout making its way to your lips, “Don’t call me “miss”, makes me feel old.” You mutter, and Jungkook wants nothing more than to kiss your puckered lips. “Well, sorryyy,” he drags out the word as he looks down to read your nametag, “(Y/N), anyway, apparently my art is “illegal” so I kind of had to cut loose.” He clicks his tongue to emphasize his point. You size him up, “What type of graffiti?” You ask. He balks at you, it’s rare for him to find a girl interested in that kind of thing. “Huh?” “I’m pretty familiar with the scene around here, so what kind of work do you do? Tag? Blockbuster?” You prompt, and Jungkook feels himself falling for you already. 

“I- Freestyle. I freestyle, really.” He says, fumbling over his words. You run your eyes over his figure before you settle on his eyes. Cute. “You’ll have to show me your work sometime.” You tease, moving to tend to your flowers. Jungkook follows close behind, your scent of warm vanilla and lilies drawing him in. “Maybe.” He flirts back. “Say, how do you know so much about this kind of stuff anyway?” He asks, eyeing a bouquet of white roses that’d look very nice in your possession. You jolt your head to look at him, an incredulous look on your face, “What? I don’t look like I know that kind of thing?” You sass. Jungkook nearly chokes on his spit, “W-what? No! No, that’s not w-” He’s cut off by the sound of your melodic laugh, “I’m just kidding, chill out.” You say, pulling a small chuckle from him. “Ha-ha very funny.” He deadpans. You smile brightly up at him, your chubby cheeks lifting at the action. “To answer your question, Mister fugitive-” “You know if you want my name, you can just ask.” He winks. “Anyway, I’ve been in the street art scene for a while. I’m not really good at doing it, but I do have my favorite artists.” You shrug. 

Jungkook’s intrigued, eager to hear more. “Really?” Who’s your favorite?” He asks, and you’d be lying if his excitement wasn’t infectious. You giggle at his eagerness, “Well, there’s not much known about him and no one has seen him yet. According to a lot of people, he never signs his work.” “And I take it that you don’t agree.” He says. You shake your head, “There’s this group that thinks his signature is in his work and I agree. The most common letters seen in his work is JK. With the type of art he does, there’s no way that you don’t want your signature on something like that. But I also understand him not wanting to take away from the art. So why not try to find a way to sign it, while also making it part of the art?” You say, looking up at him to gauge his reaction. Jungkook feels himself nodding before he realizes, “That actually makes a lot of sense. I’ll have to see this guy’s work. I mean, if I’m going to be the top artist in your life.” He smirks. You feel your cheeks heat up, a smile unconsciously making its way to your face. “And what makes you think you’ll be my favorite?” You say, tapping a finger against your chin. Jungkook plucks one of the many white roses he was eyeing, extending it towards you. “I know so.”

— —

It didn’t take long for Jungkook to come by your flower shop regularly, always sure to buy and leave a flower with you each time he came. And it took even less time for you to start dating, the tension between the both of you too palpable to ignore.

It was an accident really. You had decided that you wanted to show your closest friend one of the most recent works of your favorite graffiti artist, practically dragging him to the mural. “Hurry uppp, slowpoke. I wanna show you my boyfriend’s work.” You suddenly feel Jungkook come to an abrupt halt. “Boyfriend? I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” He says, an adorable pout making its way to his plump, pink lips. 

So cute you just want to kiss it off.

“Not my real boyfriend, silly.” You giggle at the confused, almost puppy dog look he gives you. “He’s not my actual boyfriend, he’s my artist boyfriend. I wouldn’t actually date him.” You scoff playfully, turning around to guide him into the direction you were going.

When you both finally reach your favorite artist’s work and after a while of admiring it, you notice Jungkook shifting uncomfortably next to you. “Are you okay? We don’t have to stay.” You reassure him. You barely have time to register him grabbing your hand and practically dragging you away from the other street artists.

He pulls you into an alley, far from prying ears and eyes and before you get the chance to ask him what happened, he presses his lips firmly against yours. “I’m JK.” He says when he finally pulls away from you. Your eyes widen to the size of saucers, all types of questions on your tongue. “I had to come with you to make sure that it was me that you were talking about and now that I know I can’t keep that part of myself away from you. Especially since I’m your “artist boyfriend”.” He says, nervously gnawing on his lip ring.

How? When did he find the time? Could he kiss you like that again?

You hadn't even realized you asked the last question aloud until you hear the slight chuckle that you’ve come to fall in love with. “Sure, but are you gonna keep my secret for me?” He asks, that sinister smirk making its way to his lips. 

Before you know it you're nodding your head, eager to feel his soft lips against yours as he runs his hands along your soft body. Fuck he never gets tired of feeling you against him. The sharp contrast of hard to soft, the way you practically melt into him.

It’s just too fucking delectable to pass up.

The tension between you both builds, the kiss gradually heating up and becoming more intense as the seconds pass. You wrap your arms around his neck just as he lifts up one of your legs to wrap around him. You both groan at the glorious friction, his clothed cock grinding against your puffy pussy making slick pool in your already sticky panties. “Please,” You mewl against his lips, the chill of his lip ring feeling tantalizing against your lips. “Please what, pretty? You gotta tell me what you want.” He breathes against your lips, the smell of his mint gum and cologne pulling you in. You whine, threats of a tantrum rearing it’s head. “Kookie, please don’t tease.” Jungkook chuckles, before slightly pulling away from you.

You reach out for him, chubby arms holding onto him for dear life, “Kook, please. Fuck me. Touch me. I need something.” You groan against him as you practically dry hump him. Jungkook decides to take pity on you and all but rips the flimsy thong you’re wearing off of you. You barely had time to register before he was shoving the piece of cloth against his nose, your scent washing over his senses. 

He quickly pockets the piece of fabric. You’re on borrowed time, it’s only a matter of time before another couple comes along for their own salacious activities and as adventurous as Jungkook is, you’re his to look at. 

He just manages to tug down his zipper and pull his semi hard cock out, before he uses your slick to coat his cock, running his dick along your wet cunt. “Fuck me, Jungkook. Fill me up. Wanna be full.” You moan into his ear. The sound of your breathy voice in his ear does something to Jungkook and without warning, he slams himself inside you to the hilt. You groan at the intrusion, never truly having got used to his size as yet. “Fuck! Yes, baby. That’s it. Give me that pussy.” Jungkook groans into your neck. He’s sucking hickies and leaving small, wet kisses along your throat and the exposed skin on your chest. You moan at the feeling, reaching up to bring his lips to yours. 

He reaches one hand up to palm at one of your tits, squeezing and molding the flesh to fit his large hand. You whimper when you feel him squeeze your nipple under your dress, causing your pussy to squeeze around him involuntarily. You both moan into each other's mouths, your pussy clenching and unclenching around the thickness of his cock each time he punches the soft, gummy spot inside you. “Cum for me.” He grunts, cock throbbing as it aches to empty itself in your womb. “Soak my fucking dick, baby. Get me nice and wet, pretty. Cause I’m gonna fill you up. Stuff you to the fucking brim.” You cry out as your orgasm washes over you, your pussy squelching as you milk his orgasm for everything it’s worth. “Cum in me. Fill me up, baby. Wanna be so full it leaks out.” You moan into his mouth, eyes locked together. It doesn’t take long, a few more thrusts and he’s spilling into you, the warmth of his seed settling deep inside your stomach.

You both take a few seconds for your highs to come down and before long, you start to giggle. “Were you jealous, Kookie?” Jungkook pulls away slightly to pout at you, lips all pretty and kiss-swollen.

“Was not.”

— —

Taglist: @xogabbiexo @kinq-sleazee @dabilovesme @blkchxrryblyss @tenyaiidasslut @cherries-c0la @bookwormsenpai @bl--ankhaeji @thicksimpx @namjoonswifeyy @nasty-quillz @musicisme333 @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @celi-xxmoon @c0pkiller

[ha-rinrin]

Hiding From The World

Summary: After a meeting with Silco, Jinx goes missing, leaving you to go find her.

Pairing: Jinx x Fem!reader

Wordcount: 1k

Authors note: The long ass story is still not finished im so sorry guys im gonna try to publish it as soon as I can 🤞🏻. I also did this at 2am, sorry if its bad I literally fell asleep in the middle of writing it.

Masterlist

It's been hours since you last saw her. Jinx was supposed to come back to the hideout after a supposedly urgent meeting with Silco, but the minutes dragged on, turning into hours, and still no sign of her. You tried to convince yourself she was just blowing off steam somewhere, but you couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in your gut.

Without a second thought, you head to the one place she might be. It’s a little secret basement in an abandoned building tucked away in the darker parts of Zaun, somewhere she figured no one would ever think to look, when you and Jinx first stumbled on this little abandoned building while exploring Zaun’s hidden alleys. The structure was half-buried under layers of graffiti and rust, but Jinx saw it as treasure—something forgotten by everyone else but perfect for the two of you. Together, you’d set up this place over the months, stringing fairy lights from the cracked ceiling, stacking old crates to make makeshift chairs, and even securing it with a series of hidden traps to keep intruders out.

The shadows stretch longer as you approach the building, slipping past the creaky metal door and down the stairs that lead to the basement. You disable the traps one by one, the steps so familiar you could do them in your sleep. Finally, you reach the heavy door that leads into the basement, taking a breath before pushing it open.

And there she is.

Jinx is slouched on the floor, leaning against the wall with her knees drawn up to her chest. Her eyes flicker with a mix of frustration and exhaustion, and you catch the way her hands keep fidgeting, as if even while sitting still, she can't quite find peace. She looks up when you enter, and something in her expression softens ever so slightly.

"Y/N," she mutters, sounding almost relieved. "Guess I’m not as good at hiding as I thought, huh?"

You close the door behind you, crossing the dimly lit room until you’re in front of her. “Not from me, anyway.”

She scoffs, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. You slide down to sit beside her, close enough that your shoulders are almost touching. For a moment, neither of you speak. The silence is comfortable, settling like a blanket around you both.

You glance over, studying her for a beat. “Rough day?”

She lets out a bitter laugh, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling. “Silco thinks he knows everything. Says I’m too… reckless, like he doesn’t know me by now.” Her fingers toy with a stray thread on her pants, pulling at it absently. “Sometimes I think he just doesn’t get it. Doesn’t get me.”

You nod, listening to every word. “Sometimes I don’t think he deserves to.”

Jinx looks over at you, that fire in her eyes simmering down, replaced by something softer, something almost vulnerable. She doesn’t say anything right away, but her hand inches toward yours, her fingers grazing your palm as if she’s testing the waters.

You intertwine your fingers, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “We don’t need him, you know,” you murmur. “We’ve got this place. It’s ours. Away from everyone else.”

She leans her head back, gazing around at the dim room, where the fairy lights cast soft, warm glows over the walls. It’s far from fancy, but it feels like home, like yours. The two of you worked to make it that way—a sanctuary in the chaos.

Her gaze drifts back to you, a small, genuine smile breaking through her tough exterior. “Guess that’s why I wanted to come here… I knew you’d find me.”

“Always,” you say softly, brushing a thumb over her knuckles.

For a while, you sit in comfortable silence, her head eventually finding its way to your shoulder. The weight of her against you feels reassuring, grounding, like the world outside doesn’t matter when it’s just the two of you in this little hidden corner of Zaun.

“You know,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper, “this place… I’d never let anyone else in here but you.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you turn slightly, pressing a soft kiss to her hair. “Good. Because I wouldn’t want to share it with anyone else.”

She smiles again, her eyes half-closed as she leans into you. In this moment, with the flickering lights casting shadows across the room and the muffled sounds of Zaun fading in the background, you both find a rare, quiet peace.

Jinx’s head grows heavier on your shoulder, her breathing slowing, steadying. You glance down to find her eyes closed, the furrow in her brow smoothed out. It’s rare to see her like this—unguarded, peaceful, away from the chaos that usually surrounds her.

Carefully, you shift, wrapping an arm around her to support her as you slowly stand up. She stirs slightly, but doesn’t wake, her head resting comfortably against your shoulder as you carry her over to the old, beaten-up couch you both dragged in here ages ago. Easing yourself down, you settle back with Jinx still in your arms, her body now draped across yours.

She mumbles something incoherent as she nestles closer, pressing her face against your chest. One of her arms wraps around you, clutching the fabric of your shirt as if you’re an anchor keeping her steady.

You can’t help but smile, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face, tucking them behind her ear. She looks so serene, her usual smirk softened, her breathing deep and calm. Gently, you stroke her back, your fingers tracing light, soothing circles as she relaxes even further against you.

The warmth of her settles into you, a quiet comfort that makes the dim room feel like it’s lit up with something more than just fairy lights. Holding her like this, feeling her heartbeat thrum in sync with yours, it’s like all the weight of the world fades away.

As minutes slip by, you let your head rest back against the couch, one arm wrapped securely around her while your other hand continues to run softly up and down her back. You could stay like this forever, hidden away with her, in a place that’s just for the two of you.

In this little pocket of the world, it’s just you and her, and for now, that’s all you need.

[freesia-writes]

Ch 17: Graffiti

~ Master List ~ Previous Chapter ~ WC: 2.7k

“You really don’t need to be doing this,” Omega said quietly, her face downcast as she dipped her rag in the small, soapy bucket of water. “I’m the one who messed up.” She continued rubbing at the carelessly spray painted stucco wall, watching the bright colors slowly fade beneath the cleaning solvent. 

“We all mess up,” Lyra answered soothingly, scrubbing in circles with her own brush. “You never ‘arrive’. Or you might feel like you do, and then something swipes your legs out from under you or you do something stupid again.” She chuckled, glancing at the girl to see if her words were helpful or discouraging. “But you’re smart and kind, and your heart is in the right place. That’s what matters.”

“This didn’t seem so smart or kind.”

“Well, you clearly have the right perspective now, so I think you can chalk it up to a lesson learned and move on.”

“Hm.”

They cleaned in silence for a while, side by side in front of the small, flat wall of one of the square island homes on the outside of the Town Square. A barely-recognizable (and wildly crass)artistic rendition of Sy Snootles was slowly disappearing as they chipped away at it little by little. 

“Sometimes we beat ourselves up because we feel like it makes up for it,” Lyra offered, and Omega nodded in response, rubbing her hair out of her face for a moment before continuing her task. 

“I just don’t get how I can simultaneously know that it’s stupid and yet get carried right along in it.”

“It’s hard to go against the flow.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I’m not exactly one who has ever really fit in anywhere though.”

“I think your brothers would disagree,” Lyra suggested, touching her elbow in a brief pause. A slight warmth appeared on Omega’s face, and she nodded again, pressing her lips together as she stepped back to look at their progress. 

“It all happened so fast,” she said, looking at the colorful vandalism that she’d been coerced into the night before. “And I don’t know where the idea even came from, but suddenly we were all just… Ugh.” 

“Can I offer an old lady sentiment that might help in future situations?” 

Omega laughed, returning to her scrubbing, “You’re not an old lady.”

“Alright, well… Just remember this. Nothing good happens after midnight.”

They shared a quiet chuckle, each nodding with their own understanding of the adage as they continued their cleaning in silence. 

Hunter sighed from where he was leaning against the building across the street, having approached to check on Omega but pausing as he sensed a sort of intimacy occurring between the two. He’d hung back, listening to their words as best he could to ensure he wasn’t interrupting something important. A deep gratitude settled in his heart as he heard Lyra’s gentle encouragement, and he shifted from one foot to the other, unsure if he should even make an appearance at this point. But he did have something he wanted to say to Omega, and the sooner the better, as he felt bad for the way he’d reacted when he’d found out about her ill-fated shenanigans.

She probably wouldn’t have shared it with him in the first place, but Omega had arrived at their cabin in the wee hours of the morning, sniffling so loudly as she headed for bed that Hunter had to investigate. She’d been overwhelmed with remorse, partly because of her participation in unsavory activities, but mostly because when they had finished spray painting the side of the house, a few of the kids had thrown the paint cans at the wall in triumph. Their shortsighted actions had resulted in the homeowner coming out to see what the fuss was, and his appearance had solidified her realization that this sort of thing was not what she wanted to be about. 

“He was so old and frail,” Omega was telling Lyra now, voice quivering with miserable remembrance. “He shuffled out here and saw all of this, and his face just fell. It was awful. The others ran away, but I just… I couldn’t. He looked at me and was so sad. He asked why we did this, and I couldn’t answer him. I just promised I’d make it right. I commed the other kids this morning to help clean it up, and they either laughed at me or ignored it.”

“Because they’re idiots,” Hunter said, appearing behind them without warning. Lyra startled a bit, flinging soap bubbles across her skirt as her hand jerked the brush she’d just dipped in the bucket.

“Do you make a habit of sneaking up on people?” she asked, a smile diffusing the mild indignation in her voice. 

“Usually just animals,” he winked, then looked at Omega. “How’s it goin?”

“Fine,” she said quietly, not meeting his gaze. Lyra looked back and forth between the two, picking up on the discomfort, and turned to continue her scrubbing, slowly moving down the wall to give them some space. 

“Hey, listen…” Hunter began, running a hand through his hair and resting it awkwardly on the back of his neck for a moment. 

“Please don’t lecture me,” Omega said abruptly, rubbing the wall harder with her rag. “I feel bad enough already.”

“No… That’s not… No,” he fumbled, shaking his head and dropping his hand to his side. “I uh… I’m sorry. You were already sad about it, and I jumped down your throat… I was just… I don’t know, I hate that these kids can cause you so much trouble.”

“Ah,” she said in quiet revelation, slowing her vigorous scrubbing a bit as she began to register his unspoken fears and the deep care he held for her. “Yeah. It’s messy sometimes.”

“I can see that,” he attempted, stepping back to look at what was left of the so-called artwork: the bottom half of the Pa'lowick singer in a very embellished style. “You guys really went for it, eh?”

“Ugh,” Omega said with a roll of the eyes. 

“This part here is particularly notable,” Lyra remarked quietly, gesturing at the ample, curvaceous buttcheeks that they’d given the otherwise flat-bottomed entertainer. “It feels a little weird rubbing them so hard.” Her deadpan delivery made both Hunter and Omega chuckle, and he went to stand behind Lyra, admiring the creation. 

“I think you missed a spot,” he teased, pointing over her shoulder to what looked like a few exaggerated hairs that would have been poking out of an obscene place. “Better get in there.” Lyra shot him a look, meeting his eyes with an initial flash of humorous challenge, but it quickly melted into an amused admiration that Omega couldn’t have missed if she wanted to. The young girl’s eyes flickered from her to Hunter, whose sharp features were similarly relaxed and warm, and she bent over the cleaning bucket with a small smile. 

“You might as well make yourself useful if you’re gonna stand here and critique our work,” Omega announced, tossing Hunter an extra rag after she’d squeezed it out. He didn’t expect it to come flying his way so quickly, yet he did indeed catch it, though not without his tight grasp sending a splotch of soapy water across his chest. With a grumble in Omega’s direction and a mockingly stern grin at Lyra in response to her laughter, he found his own spot on the wall and began to help. 

They fell into thought-filled silence for a while, working slowly and steadily until the graffiti was almost gone. A few stubborn spots remained, and Omega paused, stretching her arms out in different directions to refresh them a bit. Lyra gave her a pat on the back and a reassuring nod when the girl met her gaze, returning it with a small smile of her own. 

“Next time they try to make me do something stupid, I’m gonna tell them to stuff it,” Omega resolved, ignoring the approving snicker from Hunter. 

“It’s so hard, especially in the moment,” Lyra commiserated. “It took me years, and… Well… I still don’t think I’m very good at standing up for myself.” Hunter snuck a glance at her out of the corner of his eye, his mind wandering to her attractive coworker who had the gall to regale her with his sordid tales of sexual escapades. 

“You seem to be pretty calm about everything,” Omega observed. “It makes you look confident.” 

“Oh gosh,” Lyra laughed, tossing her braid back over her shoulder to look at the girl with an openness on her face. “I’m glad it comes across that way. I just… I don’t want to get into anything with anyone, and I don’t think my opinions are particularly life-changing, so… Not a lot of need to make myself big or forceful for any reason. It’s easier to just do your own thing, I guess.”

“Don’t you get lonely?”

Lyra hesitated, thrown off by the girl’s uncanny way of zeroing in on a tender point. She considered her words, slowly moving her brush back and forth against the wall and taking a moment to reflect so that she could answer honestly. “Yes,” she said simply, the depth of emotion behind her words creating a flurry of feelings in Hunter. “There are people that were very special to me who are no longer in my life. I connected with them so deeply that it makes other relationships seem pale in comparison. But I suppose that might be my own tainted perspective…” 

“Yeah, people seem to change once you get to know them,” Omega said, thinking of her own shifting relationships with her friends. “Or they want you to change.”

“I used to be more… flexible,” Lyra admitted. “When I was young and in school, I wanted to do whatever it took to be included. To not be made fun of. I also thought it was super fun to take risks, try new things, and be whoever they wanted me to be on any given day. Eventually, it started to feel a little empty, because there were very few constants in my life, so it was like… who am I, at the core? I realized my identity was dependent on ‘them’, and who even is ‘them’? The most outspoken people, who I later realized were just the most insecure… and they depended on mockery and false confidence to make themselves feel superior.” She paused, looking back at the girl. “Sorry, I’m talking a lot.”

“No, keep going,” Omega encouraged. “It’s tragically relatable.”

“Tragically,” Lyra echoed with a chuckle. “I mean, that’s basically it. I didn’t understand until I was a little older that it was my choice to let their opinions matter to me or not. Once I stopped caring, there was a sort of freedom. But, it took me a long time to get there – I was already an adult, and I was out of that environment where you’re forced to be around these people all day. Anyway… This probably isn’t helpful, but a potential encouragement to you might be the fact that the rest of your year is more site-based than classroom-based, so you don’t have to be around the herd mentality as much.”

They continued chatting, slowly fading from school talk to random life things, and Hunter remained quiet. He found his eyes wandering across the hunch of Lyra’s back as she finished scrubbing off the last bit of alien foot, and his hand twitched at his side at the sight of the little pieces of hair that had fallen from her braid to tickle the side of her face instead. He was moved by her vulnerability and authenticity, and it was causing a surprising reaction within.

“Ohh, look at that! It hasn’t been so bright since it was brand new!” a frail voice broke through, and its owner soon made an appearance, tottering along in his slow, steady gait. “Thank you, young lady.”

“I’m sorry it happened in the first place,” Omega said, moving back in satisfaction as she checked the entire wall for any remaining paint. 

“Well thank you for making it right. That’s more than your friends could say for themselves,” the elderly man remarked. 

“Yes sir,” she agreed, packing up her cleaning supplies. They exchanged some polite pleasantries and eventually parted ways, Omega heading home for a shower and nap, Hunter and Lyra finding themselves immediately lost in a random conversation as they leaned on the low stone wall across the street. He laughed heartily at something she said, surprising himself with the openness of his delight, then slowly quieted, regarding her with an almost bashful admiration. His face grew serious, watching her stare down the street at the people milling about, and he wondered where her mind was. His own was in a few places at once, the internal conflict driving him crazy. Following her gaze, he scanned the cobblestoned path, idly noting every gap and bump in the road as he mulled everything over, frowning in concentration.

“Hunter?” her low voice jerked him from his reverie, and a little wave of tingles ran down his body as he lightly touched his arm, pulling her hand back when he turned to look at her a little too quickly. “Sorry,” she continued, glancing down and away. “I just wondered what you were up to for the rest of the day?”

“Well, I’ve got some things to finish up in the shop,” he said, almost regretfully. He stood up straight, absently adjusting his shirt, then looked at her with a renewed intensity. “And then… Uh… Would you like to go for a walk?” 

“Always,” she answered with a smile. “Meet at the edge?” They’d developed a habit of starting their walks from the point between their houses where the sloping meadows met The Forest. But he shook his head, fidgeting with his fingers.

“I wanted to try something different, if you’re up for it,” he admitted, kicking himself at his sudden sheepishness. “I’ll meet you at your fence?”

“Oh, sure,” she nodded. “Sounds good.” 

“Ah, so this is why you aren’t in your shop!” Wrecker’s voice broke through as he approached from a side street. “I’ve had about four people ask me if I knew where you were. Why isn’t your comm on?” 

“Must have forgotten…” Hunter muttered, shooting Lyra a quick smirk. 

“Oh suuuure,” Wrecker laughed, clapping Hunter on the back. “You retire and you think you can just slack off…” He drifted off in response to the sharp look from Hunter and began backtracking as best he could. “I mean, retire from the last job… And don’t take this one too seriously… You know. Anyway, hi Lyra! How are you?”

“I’m alright, Wrecker,” she said with a chuckle, gasping for air as he trapped her arms against her sides in a big hug before releasing her and stepping back to admire the two of them standing beside each other. 

“I sure am glad you two are dating,” Wrecker declared, unabashed glee across his face. “You’re just adorable together.” Hunter’s blush was partly covered by his tattoo, but the speed at which his hand flew to awkwardly rub his neck was a bit of a giveaway. Lyra similarly shifted on her feet, clasping her arms together across her front then releasing them.

“We’re… We’re just friends,” she deflected, staring at the ground too hard to notice Wrecker’s eyebrows climbing up his forehead or the quick furrowing of Hunter’s brow before he hid it behind a carefully neutral expression.

“Oh. Really?” Wrecker stammered. “Ahh, I mean. Yeah. I’m glad you’re friends. Welp, I’ll see you later!”

“Later,” Hunter echoed, turning to Lyra. “I’ll see you later tonight?”

“Can’t wait,” she smiled, turning demurely to head toward the path to her home. Hunter watched her go, then slowly made his way toward his own, grappling with the undeniable fact that her deflection had somehow rubbed him the wrong way while being equally confused and clueless as to why.

.

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[homestuckreplay]

My First Social Interaction In 413 Years

(page 1040-1051)

THE AIMLESS RENEGADE SHOT AT WV AND PM. I’m furious over this. There will be no forgiveness. But it makes sense that since Jack Noir was recently introduced as a potential villain for the beta kids – certainly for John, as he’s imprisoning his dad – we are getting a villain for the future folks too.

I really like the nervousness between WV and PM (p.1044) which I’m sure could be interpreted as romantic, but I personally see it as the first motions towards truce between these two different sides of a war. This might be the first time either of them has interacted with someone from the other planet in a non-hostile way. They’ve also both been wandering the wasteland without meeting anyone else in person for potentially up to 413 years, so any social interaction is probably nervewracking under those conditions – it’s not like either of them were great at interacting with the kids. These first movements towards friendship between them are very sweet.

PM’s sword is back and so badass. I think real mail workers should also be allowed to carry a sword for self defense. I hope that worm with the mailbox in its jaws is gently holding it for PM and not about to take a chomp, otherwise it’s about to have a bad time.

Page 1041 is drawn in a full color, wide brush scribbly style that was also used on page 1007, but used here for a more landscapey page (plus Jade’s ‘==> cover!’) it looks like a hybrid between the cleaner future style and Jade’s note (p.1038), further blurring the boundaries between the present and the future, between Jade and WV. Although I’m not sure what the ‘<== hurry!’ is doing, as that seems directed to PM, who hasn’t looked at the note yet so can’t be following the order.

This update also introduces some Gender. Jade refers to PM as ‘Miss Mail Lady’, and has previously called WV ‘Mister Mayor’. I think it is a little strange that a chess piece construct has a gender but I respect people’s pronouns. Later, Jade thinks that the other Prospit moon tower only differs from hers as it’s ‘home to a young boy instead of a young girl’, though I’d say the clown presence and the inhabitant being asleep are more striking differences.

@tenaciouschronicler was so right to mention keeping an eye on dichotomies, and that’s definitely a theme I want to write lots about in the future, but I’m especially interested with how dichotomies are set up and then questioned or subverted. We’re seeing this with the art style, with the different timelines, possibly with the light and dark sides of the war, and hopefully with gender (although that could be my personal bias).

I actually forgot to even speculate who or what might be in the other tower, but John being there (in a matching golden outfit!) explains this earlier conversation.

GG: oh gosh john i really want to tell you all this stuff!!! GG: but i cant yet GG: i really think you need to wake up first! EB: huh? GG: well ok not literally GG: well ok maybe KINDA literally!! (p.652)

I think that awake Jade had this conversation with John, because of the Jade inequality where waking Jade seems aware of dream Jade’s existence, but the reverse doesn’t seem true – dream Jade isn’t aware of the finger reminder system (p.777, 1050). Waking Jade wants to explain the difference between these two selves to John, but she thinks John won’t believe her, because John doesn’t know about this alternate version of himself. If the dream self represents the unconscious then perhaps now that he can see the graffiti in his waking room, he’ll be ready to realize this. This means that the previous conversations Jade has with John (p.169, p.293) happen while Jade is asleep – in fact, are presumably about to happen, because she’s about to message John to ask about his present (p.1051).

Which means that the explosion Jade describes on page 169 actually happens on Prospit, possibly as a consequence of the eclipse Jade is nervous about. It also means that there is a version of Bec somewhere on Prospit, as he warns her away from investigating between the two conversations (p.293). This all calls into question my sense that Jade likes to take control of conversations, dispensing information slowly as she knows more than her friends – if her dream self isn’t even aware of her waking self’s life, and if she’s dreaming during roughly half her conversations, her information is a lot more imperfect than I thought. That’s exciting to me, and makes it well worth rereading all of Jade’s conversations and trying to figure out which Jade is talking.

Clearly, John has been within the Medium since before he entered the Medium. How long has he been here, and how does that line up with how long John and Jade have been friends while awake? Did Jade see the kid in the other tower and decide to search for him while awake using some of her powers? Or did John talking to Jade online ‘infect’ him slightly with some of her abilities and pull him under Skaia’s will? Is the whole thing a total coincidence, or is it a “coincidence”, predetermined by Skaia? Which version of Jade – awake or dreaming – was talking to John the first time they met online?

And no shit John is having troubled dreams. There’s an imp on his bed. Specifically, a black chess piece, which is unexpected on Prospit. And his graffiti is also here, so it’s a fair guess he’s dreaming about clowns. I’m thinking about how Prospit is supposed to be the planet of goodness of light, working for the righteous cause of protecting Skaia, but Jade and John both go through some rough stuff. Even if it can’t extend to waking life, I’d expect a place like this to guard its wards from unpleasant dreams, and one single imp doll should not be able to overpower the entire planet. So what’s going on? What are the secret dark sides to this luminous planet?

Page 1051 (below) has to be one of the coolest visual panels so far. The white/blue to black/yellow transition, with Jade hovering bravely between the two planets bringing the colors from the bottom section into the top, and the geometric reflections of Prospit superimposed on the swirling clouds, are all stunning and make the eclipse feel like an important moment.

> Jade: Reminisce about previous eclipse.

[mattsturniolosmuse]

Chook x Reader

Summary: Chook is a tough guy. He is careless, reckless, and feared amongst many. That was until he saw you. You made him feel things; things that made him weak and hopeless. You put him in his place, leading to a long, but pleasurable night.

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, dom! reader, sub! Chook, swearing, drug use, alcohol use, cowgirl, overstimulation, slight orgasm denial

"And you get me my fucking money, you hear?" Chook said to the eshay, who was trembling under his hold. The eshay nodded, running, not walking away. Chook walks back into the party, avoiding elbows and girls who wanted a hook up.

He stands in the corner by the drink table. He watches as girls came and filled up their drinks, batting their eyelashes at him. He just waved. It seemed like every girl wanted his attention.

Except for you.

And that made him mad. He watched as you danced. You danced like no one was watching. Your hips swayed, your hands held above your head, your hair shaking loosely around your shoulders.

He watched in jealousy as another guy started dancing with you. You shimmied away from him.

Good job, pretty girl. Chook thought to himself, nodding. He stomped out his cigarette and walked towards you.

"Hey, pretty baby." He said. You didn't dance away, your eyes locking with his. His hands began to sweat, his breathing became shallow.

Stop! He thought to himself. He does not let his guard down, especially for a girl.

"You want to get out of here?" Another guy asks you. Chook glares them down.

"Ahem. Taken." He says to the boy. The boy walks away. You whip towards him.

"Hey! I can deal with my own problems myself, dick wad." You say to him. His heart stops. He fucking loved you. You were just his type. Fiery, ferocious, and party loving.

"You got any weed?" You ask him, and his dick throbs in his pants.

And she likes drugs.

Chooks fingers fumbled as he tried to grab a joint out of his pocket.

"H-here you go." He says, handing you the joint. Your fingers brush against his, not thinking anything of it.

But for him, it sent tingles all the way down his body, jolting through his cock.

He groans, leaning into your ear.

"Come on, let's go." He says. You shrug, following. He grabs your arm, dragging you through the party, outside to his car. He hands you a lighter, and you light the joint as you get into his car.

You take a puff, letting the smoke roll off of your tongue and through your nose. You put your feet on the dash.

This made Chook angry.

"Get your feet off." He says quietly.

"Or what?" You ask, jutting your bottom lip out. He finds himself a nervous wreck again. He didn't know what was happening. He never, ever let himself get this way. Period.

"So, where we goin'?" You ask, taking another drag from the joint.

"Uh, anywhere you want." Chook says. You offer him the joint, and he takes it. Lipstick stained the tip of the joint, and he immediately thought of your pink lips around his cock.

"Well, we can go to your place." You offer, taking the joint back after he had taken a drag. He nods, dumbfounded.

>>>><<<<

You follow him into the house. You look around, jaw dropped. Graffiti covered the walls, even the couch and all the furniture. He sits down on the couch and you sit beside him.

"Nice place." You say, still looking around him. The one wall said "Ca$h" in big, blue letters.

"Yeah." He says, admiring the way you look. Your jean shorts barely covered your ass, your top was made of black lace, and it seemed you weren't wearing a bra. He could see your nipples. Your eyes landed on his, noticing he was staring at your chest. You smirk.

"Hey, you're Chook, aren't you?" You ask, having heard of him from some friends. You straddle his lap, hands resting on his chest. Chook gulps.

"Y-yeah." He responds dumbly. You grind into him slowly. Chook throws his head back in pleasure, finally gaining the friction he needed. You notice his need, beginning to grind down on him faster and harder.

"You know, I'm really into bad guys." You say, grinding down on him once particularly hard. Chook yelps.

"A-are you?" He asks, grabbing your waist. You nod. You inch your face closer to his, and close the gap.

The moment your lips touched, it sent a jolt through Chook and down through his cock. He moans loudly, his tongue slipping past your lips and fighting with yours. You pull away, a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

"Lie down, Chook." You whisper. He does, his head resting on the arm rest of the couch. You unzip his jeans, pulling them down along with his boxers. He gets the memo and sits up momentarily to take off his shirt.

"You wanna undress me?" You ask, licking your bottom lip.

"Y-yeah, I do." Chook says. You nod. He gently lifts your lace top over your head, revealing your breasts and hardened nipples. Chook whimpers as his shaking hands move to undo your jean shorts.

You lift your ass off of him so he can slip them off easily, and he does, pulling your black thong down with them.

"Gonna ride you." You say, pumping his dick a few times before lifting your hips up and sinking down on him. You let out a high pitch moan, and Chook gasps.

"God. Feels so good." Chook moans, squeezing your waist, surely leaving bruises for you the next day. You balance yourself by putting your hands on Chook's chest, and begin bouncing up and down, sometimes grinding down into him.

"You're doing so well for me, Chook." You moan, arching your back. Chook moans at your words, not trusting himself to say anything.

He shouldn't be like this around you. He was a tough guy. Not one who lets a girl take him over.

Chook's cock twitches inside of you, signalling he was close.

"I'm gonna cum." He moans.

"Me too, hold it for me." You moan. Your legs begin to get tired, so you rock yourself back and forth. Chook loses it.

"Please! I need to cum, please. I'll be a good boy, I promise." He moans out, tears leaking out of his eyes.

"Cum, I'm right with you." You moan. He shoots his load inside of you the second the words leave your lips. You keep going.

"Stop! It hurts." Chook groans.

"Take it, you're gonna fucking take it." You moan, your orgasm coming close. You squeeze your eyes shut, and when you open them, you had released.

You lean down and wrap your arms around Chook.

"Be my girl?" Chook asks you, panting. You nod, kissing him.

He hates how you have control over him. But at the same time, he loved the way you did.

[shock]

This one is definitely my favorite so far in my collage solar system, so I wanted to post it. Hopefully I'll get some nice scans once all the pieces are done, but here's a spotlight on Neptune Side 1, "MEMORY".

The photos on the left are all pictures I took as a kid with film my gammaw got me before she died, and most of them are from the same day we took a walk together. The photos on the right all include her except for one. I can't remember HOW I managed to get ahold of the time they hired a stripper for her birthday, but I've always found that set of photos to be really evocative and I feel like I found the perfect use for them! 🤣

The text reads:

One fine day in 2006, a wild deer wandered into a Target store. When animals are traumatized, we make careful, logical calculations. Which is what the deer did.

After falling down the stairs, skidded around for a half hour, like when Odysseus opened a bag of captive winds, would surrender for a second, then dash from one event to the next. Until out of sheer frustration, I threw a bucket. But it made the deer race right through the window.

"F---ed up beyond all recognition."

If I had known what that maneuver would cost, I would probably have let the deer go.

A couple of days before she died, she took me to the ocean.

My log adds, I had some nice things to eat. I have never seen a being, human or animal, always so full of joy. Talking to her filled me with the power of the sun.

I wanted to hug her, but I didn't. I literally forgot to put my arms around her. We talked again that night on a ship-to-ship radio frequency. You weren't supposed to talk long on that because others might need it.

The next day, she died. I went into the woods, trying to clear my head. I could hear the deer breathing in the darkness. It was weird.

The day after she died, I called and cried. I don't like to yell or scream, but a bad storm brings something out of me. Not until I knew there's be no response did I realize how much pleasure I had taken in calling her. I bellowed up at the approaching storm: All right, you have the power of life and death! Love's no good! I know it! I had so many meetings with different people, I forgot! I'm sorry! So deafen me with your thunder! Go on, then! Scorch up my brains! I defy you! I'll defy you to my last breath!

Who was I defying? God? The deer? The storm? It didn't do any good to make noises of my own.

Sleeping helps. In dreams, I reach out my hand and grab the disease with my fist, drive that f---ed cancer back across an entire wavelength, refuse to contemplate the distant future, have a great talk with her held safely inside my arms.

I think It's worst than a nightmare. It's slow torture, it will drive you crazy, cunningly spooled and folded scenarios spin out in your mind.

Two years ago, I watched tapes of her that only reminded me of how I wanted to hear live people. It took me years to learn how to use them.

It is always interesting to see how situations change and people move from one to the other. Then you walk around a rock, and there it is: names and drawings, graffiti, all of one trade— MEMORIES carved in the rock:

Her life was a gift to me. She'd given me a greater one.

She sounded good.

I got the message. Follow the noise.

Retrace my route between the images of a continuous narrative. I went to the spot where she took her last breath. By then I could hear the deer running through the brush. I called again. This time, with a smile.

It worked. I made contact again.

Of course I knew this time she couldn't come, so my approach changed:

All right, REFLECTIONS can't support life.

That's okay. Keep moving.

GO AHEAD AND FREAK OUT.

Keeping busy helps, too— She lived every moment as though it were her last. It was wonderful.

I love her very much.

Do you want to know a secret?

I transformed into something grown for the pure happiness it brings me.

I feel really good now.

My attention most days is on the here and now.

It's the only real escape there is.

[actualbird]

on marius' personal sweet chapter stories.....i just wanna talk about The Thing these stories (both sweet chapter story 1 and 2) are Doing and how it makes me really emotional cuz like

in marius' sweet chapter 1 story: we see marius and mc help out timmy through his grief of having recently lost his older brother. throughout the entire thing, marius struggles with his own emotions and feelings about giann's disappearance.

in marius' sweet chapter 2 story: we see that in marius' efforts to protect pax and the von hagen name so that giann will have a good standing to return to once he's found, marius finds himself inevitably having a hand in firing kenji, who takes the fall protect marius. kenji, whom marius sees as an older brother figure to him as well.

whats going on in both these stories: marius' emotions and fears being prodded at, even to the point of intense anger in sweet chapter 2, because the events make him go through whats essentially a secondhand experience of losing a brother.

in terms of this possibly being foreshadowing, i feel very "ONE FEAR" about it all because it's uhhhhh not looking good for giann von hagen ;-;

but in terms of characterization and story, i feel elated because it's these kinds of stories that really show off marius' character, especially the traits and feelings that he tries to hide or sweep under the rug.

in sweet chapter 1, marius consistently brushes off mc worrying about his feelings and then, once he does finally talk about his feelings, he does so in a very emotionally detached kind of way (i wrote more in depth about marius and emotional distancing in this analysis here).

to emotionally distance one's self is, one way or another, a method by which to avoid confronting something head on. timmy's experience paralleling marius' own worries and life is something that marius is afraid of tackling. because thats family hes talking about. and family means the world to him.

in sweet chapter 2, the revelation that kenji did what he did to protect marius got marius absolutely enraged the moment it became clear kenji, an older brother figure to marius, sacrificed himself for marius' sake. thats something that terrifying for marius, because thats not how it's supposed to go, for him. hes the one whos supposed to be protecting people, to shoulder the responsibility so others can get out unscathed, hes the one who needs to take on these burdens not because of pride or anything, but because he wants people to stop getting hurt because of him.

other people getting hurt for marius' sake is one of marius' biggest fears. it pops up so often in all his stories, either the fear itself and/or the measures he takes to prevent other people getting hurt: his childhood guilt over thinking he caused his mother's death (SSR All Through The Night), him moving to florence for his studie so that austin and giann wouldnt get bad press about the whole pax civil war succession thing (SSR Precious Mornings), him worried about causing a man's suicide (SSR Daytime Aurora), him guilty over his friend who got hurt in his name (SR Vibrant Graffiti) like my god, and those are just the ones off the top of my head!!!!

he even says this outright in the story, right after the confrontation with kenji

to marius, kenji taking the fall for him is another person who got hurt because of him. and the fact that he did it willingly to protect marius makes it worse, because thats such an older brother thing to do isnt it? marius saw him as family. family means the world to him.

but marius did not want to be the cause for another person having to suffer, and for another person having to be gone, in a way.

sweet chapter 1 showed us grief from the perspective of a younger brother whose older brother passed away.

sweet chapter 2 showed us an older brother sacrificing himself for a younger brother and having to leave because of that.

now remember what i said about secondhand experiences paralleling onto marius' life and his own worries about giann? yeah. like, no wonder marius got so affected, upset, and emotional in both these stories;

he doesnt want to say goodbye.

[dailyanarchistposts]

Fire

For the third time, I carry a smoldering branch from the cooking fire to the nest of dry kindling I’ve placed in the brush, and finally it catches, and the orange feathers flap and flutter like a bird stuck in a thorn bush. Despite all the anarchist romancing of fire, I’ve never before thought of arson like this.

Angelica and José have taken us to reclaimed land, a plot well suited for farming, where the hillside isn’t so steep. José is driving the team of oxen over the acre that was cleared last year, pulling a heavy iron plow through the earth to make furrows for sowing potato and onion. The adjacent acre has already been seeded with barley. Angelica, meanwhile, is tending the fire. One fire is patiently cooking our lunch, while its children are spreading through the brush to clear the earth for next year’s fields. And my friends and I are helping. Environmentalists starting forest fires, I snicker.

Of course, there’s been no forest here for decades. This was a pine plantation on stolen Mapuche lands, identical rows of genetically modified, non-native pine trees planted by Forestal Mininco, a company owned by one of the wealthiest families in Chile. Ten years ago, a number of hectares were taken over by community members. At first, only the most politically active members of the community dared to participate in the re-occupation, and some others would come out to cook or otherwise give support. When the courts found out that both the community and the timber company held titles to the same land, they declared they could take no action, and on the ground the community members have overwhelmed the forestry employees. Now, it’s basically a done deal, and the whole community comes out to farm the recovered land. Each family has its own plot of land that inheres to it individually. The recovered land, meanwhile, is communally owned and collectively maintained. One family will work a specific plot one year, but another family might work the same plot the next year. When needed, the whole community will get together to talk about how to use the land, but they seem to prefer to work things out on their own and informally, within the framework of common understandings of what’s proper.

Soon enough, we figure out how to work the wind and fuel, and here and there, flames leap twenty feet to the sky before calming down and slowly gnashing through the thorn bushes and old pine stumps. It’s a small section we clear, not even a quarter acre, but it’s not bad for a day’s work, and the watchword of the Mapuche I meet seems to be “poco a poco.” Little by little.

Angelica finds me an herb, sietevenas, for me to press against the thorn-cuts on my ash-black hands, and then I walk down to the lake, the Lleu Lleu, to cool off in its waters.

* * *

Mapuche land takeovers began in the early 1990s, after the end of the Pinochet dictatorship, with groups like Consejo de Todas las Tierras. They would take over plots of usurped Mapuche lands for one day, symbolically, to remind themselves and the world that it was their land. It was an important step forward, but like any step forward, it wasn’t enough. “It didn’t frighten the big companies.” Angelica tells me how subsequently, in 1998, the C.A.M. formed, Coordinadora de Arauca-Malleco. By developing the tactic of “productive recoveries,” the C.A.M. “enraged” the landlords. They recovered land for good, coming in with a group of thirty people to cut down the trees, turning timber plantations into gardens so Mapuche communities could feed themselves. Back in Temuco, when I asked about all the “C.A.M.”s I saw graffitied on the walls, José had joked that “C.A.M. was to the Chilean state what Al Qaida is to the U.S. government.”

Angelica tells us how both she and José had been members of C.A.M., and it too was an important step forward, but they left the organization when they realized it had a fundamentally leftist way of thinking, “not truly Mapuche. We’ve always survived because we have our own way of thinking. We can build solidarity with the Left but we can’t become part of it; that would be against who we are.”

I ask if the land recovery actions sometimes involve replanting native forests. Angelica says that some Mapuche are replanting native tree species, and perhaps it needs to happen more often, but for now they are focused on planting gardens so they can win the ability to feed themselves, and create their independence at an economic level.

Later, she tells us about living in clandestinity. “For one thing, you don’t have any peace of mind. On top of that, you can’t plan for the future or have any projectuality. While you’re eating breakfast, you’ll be keeping your eyes on the road outside, ready to run at any time.” One time, a caravan of 400 cops with buses, tanks, water cannons, and jeeps came to arrest them, a huge display of force to show the futility of resistance. But Angelica saw the caravan when it was still on the other side of the lake, and they ran for the hills. “The whole path was green” with uniformed police.

Angelica gave birth to their son while the two were underground. Eventually they were caught when a neighbor became an informant for 500,000 pesos (about a thousand dollars). Angelica spent 4 months in pretrial detention and went through three trials, but was ultimately acquitted of “illegal association” under the antiterrorist law. Before being accused she had almost completed university, everything except the final exams, but it was a Catholic school and they wouldn’t let her take the exams in jail so she never got her diploma. Now, in her community on the banks of the Lleu Lleu, she smiles at the thought of university.

On the way back from the fields, José has me help him return the oxen and the plow to the neighbors from whom he has borrowed them. He talks to the oxen in a special language or touches them on a shoulder with a long stick to guide them through the turns, and they need no more prompting than that. As we walk he tells me more about the Mapuche worldview. “Unlike Western society, the Mapuche don’t see humans as the center of the world. We don’t think humans are the perfect species that can dominate all the other species. We understand that we are just a part of the world.” In turn I tell him about debates anarchists have had, regarding animal liberation, ecocentrism, and veganism. When we reach the neighbors’ house, the oxen bow their heads so we can untie the yoke, and then they wander off in search of hay. We take a shortcut back to the house, following the path he and Angelica used to escape the police, a few years earlier.

[vileviale]

why am I just discovering Pink Floyd at 19 at midnight I’m such a loser I have the music taste of a middle schooler and I found this kid who I really liked and then I found out he was already dating someone and he referred to them as his partner which probably means he’s gay which doesn’t change anything but he’s the strangest dude I’ve met in a while first of all he’s a lot smarter than me and it makes me feel embarrassed so I act dumber around him and that makes me feel better about myself for some reason idk I’ve just always been the smart one so it feels weird secondly he likes to go to these like abandoned buildings and sit on ledges that are like 40 stories high with his friend and he showed me these breath taking pictures and that’s when I realized I’m mediocre at everything and I’m so plain when this whole time I thought I was the coolest person alive and he’s got this long hair that I just wanna brush cause it looks so brushable I bet I could put a nice braid in it too but that’s wrong to say cause that’s for his partner to do or something but if you saw his hair you’d think the same thing and I fell in love with him when he was explaining halbach arrays to me and then realized he didn’t know what he was talking about and I think that’s so funny and he’s got this real funny laugh don’t worry I’m like super respectful I just gotta talk about this dude bc he’s so weird when I first saw him he had duct tape on the corner of his glasses like what a fucking nerd he’s got nice hands too and he likes indie folk music like me well who doesn’t but dammit after he showed me those crazy pictures where he was dangling off skyscrapers I realized I couldn’t show nothing cool about myself but the bad thing is this bitch does not like fiction he isn’t into any novels or movies or nothing and I just. Idk need a confidence boost so anyways back to Pink Floyd he says he say cool graffiti of some of the albums in a storm drain and that’s when I remembered I’ve only listened to like one of their songs also he’s got adhd and is dyslexic so we always are talking and getting distracted and it so much fun but yeah I’m listening to Pink Floyd rn and it’s ok I can see why people like it so much it’s like the Beatles but more dramatic and rockish and it’s got this very abstract psychedelic feeling? I should go to bed oh also he’s helping me with my project and he laughs at my jokes. But maybe he thinks I’m an idiot idk okokokok brain calm down it’s not all that why do you always do this to yourself all the creepy guys and girls try to go after you and all the cool people are in a relationship

[the-starry-seas]

🎲 + Graffiti and Rence please (:

Survey says... firm kiss for the kiss roulette!

He knows the cigarettes are bad for her, but he has to admit, he loves the way she looks when she breathes the smoke out over the street.

"Whaddaya think, Graf?" she drawls, glancing over at him. She only smokes on the fire escape, clambering through the window to settle into her little nook, where she can watch him baking without being in his way. He loves her, but not enough to let her be in the kitchen while he's working.

"Mm?"

He's only half paying attention. The croissants are going to be amazing, he's sure, but first... Well, first he has to figure out why they aren't turning out nearly as flaky as they should. This is his sixth batch and none of them have turned out quite right.

"You think we're gonna make it?"

He blinks at that and brushes his hair out of his eyes with the back of his wrist. Leaving a streak of flour across his face, he's sure, from the way she gets a crooked grin.

"Make it where?"

"Dunno." She flicks the cigarette over the metal railing and takes a swig of soda to wash out the taste. Her arms fold over the windowsill and she rests her chin on them, eyes on his hands as he rolls out dough. "Just. Make it. Us."

Funny, he never thought about - never worried about - that before. He just sort of assumed that nothing could separate them. He hums to acknowledge her, but doesn't say anything at the moment. His hands still on the rolling pin and he frowns slightly.

There's no reason for them to not make it. But that's not exactly going to reassure her.

"'With you, that was the part that made it a dream,'" he says quietly, and looks over at her. "Remember that?"

When he thought she was going to die, and stayed to die with her. She'd told him to leave her, to make a run for it, and there had been only one thing he could say.

She smiles a little and sits up, her head in her hand, now.

"Yeah, I remember. Thought it was real romantic."

"I wasn't trying to be romantic," he admits.

"I know. That's what made it so good." Her other hand comes up and she crooks a finger, Corrie-red lipstick curling up in a grin. "Come show a girl a good time, baker boy."

He doesn't even bother covering the dough first, just crosses the space between them, frames her face in his hands, and kisses her as deeply as he can.

"Good job," she breathes against his lips.

The croissant dough ends up needing to be thrown out sometime the next morning, but Graffiti doesn't mind so much. And as it turns out, the eighth time's the charm.

[ksiondzkanexkiii]

MAYBE YOU'RE NOT A BAD PERSON | JOHN PRICE

CHAPTER SIX

Next Chapter (7)

The story is also on wattpad, the link to my profile can be found in biography <3 Enjoy

It's been a few days since the teenager arrived at Price's apartment, and for a few days John has been in turmoil rather than peace in the apartment.

It's a store and obviously a lot of people in it, especially if it's a market. For Jinx, it was too many people she wanted to leave, but she had to walk step by step behind Price like she was his kid or whatever after morning jogging she was fed up, but her energy carried her away, how many walls she saw empty concrete always bored her for that she painted graffiti

They thought it was vandalism and defamation of the wall. She thought it was a work of art, something that made the world more colorful and interesting. She was interested in colors and colors. In brief

And yes. She's standing behind Price, who's going through groceries looking for what she needs, and she's bored, and I'm holding back the moans of discontent with every minute and hour they pass in the store. Of course he saw it, but he didn't comment, he thought she'd tell him herself, or he'd actually start whining like a little baby.

She tried to find something to do, but she quickly got bored, nothing caught her attention, she didn't speak. She shut herself up. She felt like Price had knocked down one of her walls when she wasn't looking.

Humiliating

- Why do people take so long to think about what they want to buy? Just take it and put it in the fucking basket! – an outraged teenager crossed her arms on her chest, like an outraged child who did not get his candy or toy. Price raised his eyebrow and looked at the teenage girl over the noodles, or did he do that on purpose? Maybe that's why he's holding one and the same pasta in his hand maybe.

- Calm down Jinx – a hoarse voice Price really demanded water, she was willing to put a bottle of water in the basket or buy him a new glass with the words “Give water your voice suffers” had to stop laughing at her own thoughts – People searching through all the products to find the ones on sale or the ones they were interested in – explained as if it was the simplest thing in the world

But for her it wasn't, for her it was torture of a man, clogging up the mind. And God, get her out of here, or she's gonna blow this store to shreds. – her irritation spread her

- Do you prefer to buy a more expensive product that is not on sale or do you prefer to pay less but have the same product that was on sale? – He raised his eyebrow, and when he encountered the silence of the teenager he considered it an answer – Well – he answered for her closing the discussions

- Then explain to me how the pasta you hold in your hand is different – She accused him, threatening him with a finger pointing at him from top to bottom.

- It's no different. I was curious when you would start whining that you wanted to leave – he shrugged, putting the pasta in the basket and moving on to other store shelves. The teen's mouth spread out

You fucking bastard, when I get you, it's UGH!

It's a good thing he couldn't hear her thinking, because I'm sure he'd give her up, after all, death threats might come true, some unfortunate accident. When she noticed Price wasn't waiting for her, she ran up to where she had last seen him, not to panic that he had disappeared, but she didn't want to be left alone. When she was looking for a bearded man, she walked into another alley when this thing caught her eye

A lot of plastic, a weight fell on her shoulders. But it was a nice weight practically as if it got wings felt like heaven, with curiosity approached every new shelf to see an assortment of paints, brushes, crayons, markers, clay, more markers, erasers, necks, sketchbooks. It all looked like it was calling and saying take me with you we were made for you, picking up two paints one in green and the other in yellow.

She might even say she liked these colors, a cold tube of paint weighing in her hands. As much as it would give to be able to have these paints or to be able to have her old collection, which remained in her old hideout, it's probably all been robbed or taken away by CIA agents looking at the nice pencils that were nice unused and the fresh wood of the pencils glistening from the light from the store lamps. The sprays that were just waiting for Jinx were neatly arranged on the shelves.

Oh, what would she do with those sprays, if only she could use them, running her hand over the crayons, judging their texture, she was in her world, she liked it here, she understood why people think what they want to buy.

There was only one problem she didn't have any money, stealing is out of the question. But... since when does he think that? As she looked around the alley, she noticed that she was alone, no one was here, no one was passing by, no one from the store, no one from the staff. The perfect opportunity is just waiting for it to be used she took a few crayons the colors she liked the most and caught the eye and a small set of pencils. She cleverly stuffed everything into her pockets beforehand making sure they didn't have a barcode or anything that could trigger an alarm. When she was sure, she stepped out of the alley as if nothing had ever happened.

No one will know

Again she started looking for the captain, who was a few aisles further unaware that the teenager had disappeared, or so she thought. She approached him without saying she had done anything, and yet the adrenaline was running through her veins, and her heart was pounding faster and harder with each greater second with the captain. In her pockets she was obsessively touching the stolen things she had hidden, feeling her fingers sweat and her mind working faster, fast enough that she would surely outpace the fastest military fighter.

Price moved on with the basket without saying a word as if he was sitting in his world of routine consumed him it seemed like it was everyday life for him and for a teenager it was boring and tedious and now with these things in his pockets she felt the adrenaline she missed so much in juvie. But she didn't feel the way she used to feel more like... she didn't know, she didn't understand. She just followed the older man praying that nothing would whistle at the gates.

She didn't even know it, when they got to the cash register, she grabbed one of the shopping bags almost overloaded her shoulder. Price, when he paid, he looked at the teenage girl, smiled softly when the teenage girl took the bag without saying anything, like it was normal for her, which means she'd still be people. All we have to do is extract that humanity, melt it, break down the wall it would create, hide their fears, move on to the captain's place

Her eyes ran through the many graffiti on the walls – Do you like this vandalism – he asked, focusing his eyes in front of him, walking with the goal of returning home, carrying two bags in his hands, picked up the bag earlier that was carrying a teenager. The bag was too heavy for her, and it got tangled under her feet, so he took the weight off the teenager like it was nothing, like the bag didn't weigh anything at all.

- It's not vandalism. “It’s an art you don’t appreciate,” she said, “the captain only raised his eyebrow.” “Art?” You call these scribbles art? – his skepticism was audible, he didn’t understand how these scribbles can be judged as art, how can you call it art? These were kids' scribbles that are hard to wash off and you'll find a lot of them on the walls of central London, especially on abandoned buildings or very old tenements and blocks.

- Yes art, you see where you see the scribbles I see the art of a person who nobody appreciates – she explained catching up with the captain when she stopped at one of the graffiti – Maybe you don’t understand it, but... You don’t understand it, because you’ve never expressed yourself that way, you’ve never delved into it – she shrugged.

- I can’t blame you, not for everyone is painting and creating Graffiti – She added after a moment of silence, John looked at her over his shoulder – It’s just words that can’t be read or trails the same as they teach in kindergarten – he murmured, turning his head slightly

He wanted to understand what the teenager meant, but he couldn't understand it, he couldn't understand it. And she understood, maybe it's a matter of age or maybe it's a matter of mentality, both of which were in the captain's mind. Or she's making it up, too.

- Well, don’t draw on my walls at home – He confessed and the teenager just laughed – I wouldn’t have the courage, come on, these white walls give a claustrophobic tone – she joked

- Are you claustrophobic? – curious hoarse voice continued to demand water, and he did not understand the joke – A little, but I try not to think about it – she replied normally she did not laugh. He didn't get a joke. How could you not get a joke so simple? How can you not laugh at her joke?

- Good – he praised her as if she did something right, or maybe she did something right? She did not understand what he meant – I remember these streets too well – she confessed after a moment of silence further looking around her – Far from here to big bene? –

- About twenty minutes by bus, unless there are traffic jams then longer – He grunted – There are always traffic jams especially in London – she sighed resigned, wanted to escape it was known not from today. Every night she gets up around 2:00 a.m. and tries to find the key to the front door, but she can't find it like the captain had it with him and hid it at night so she couldn't find it.

She knew it, which is why she spent nights in the living room window asking the brightest star on the moon for help. But her prayers and supplications are not answered by them, the standard. Nothing new, what did she expect? Nothing helps her and no one helps her.

It’s as if everything and everyone wanted to laugh at her, not from today it’s known – Why do you ask? – The captain knew how to get her out of the land of thoughts she liked to fall into, especially in his presence as if he knew what to do and how to behave so that she would think about her every next step and word.

He danced with her, but he was driving and she just followed him like a lost mongrel. Two steps forward, one step back, so he danced, and she danced two steps forward, five steps back, she couldn't keep up with the captain's step.

She couldn't keep up with the Captain's thoughts, the planning. She had to adapt to him, she had to get to know him. Surprisingly, they came to an agreement, he just acted like it was normal for him, like he wasn't completely upset that she showed up at his house like some kind of intruder, accepted that fact, and finally agreed to change it, so? Then why would he be pissed that she's there?

But why did he take it so lightly? Isn't that a problem? Either she's too calm and doesn't bother him, or his life is already so uninteresting that it doesn't surprise him, as if nothing surprises him. She didn't understand it. She wanted to get to know the man, like her mind, instead of thinking about running away, started thinking about him.

Who was he? Who really is Captain John Price?

He surprised her, and she surprised him, every day they taught each other was nice, because neither he nor she did anything wrong. To this day, the items that were in her pocket burned her pocket like she knew she was doing something wrong.

Because she knew

But now she felt her burning, and a distant voice of reason cries out to her to take it, but she doesn't hear that voice amid the murmur of praise of her demons that live within her driving her to say what was right and what she didn't do what she thought was right

She would never change that.

- Maybe someday you’ll want me to open your mind to new kinds of art – she muttered, Price stopped judging her from top to bottom. She went a little further, but stopped when she realized that the captain had not moved or moved an inch. She turned to the captain and met his judgmental gaze, “It’s not Jinx’s art. It's scribbles that paint kids as rebellious as you - he started and his voice was not at all nice and on the contrary it was rough and not nice

- You think it's art and it's vandalism. You try to call it art and you just spoil the objects – he stepped towards it to rise above it, looked down at the teenager

 – You look for beauty where there is no Jinx – the wrinkle on his forehead intensified how much he did not like it – You have real art in museums as paintings sculptures of artists. It’s not art on these walls, it’s just vandalism – he pointed to the wall next to them that had paint on it.

The graffiti next to them depicted a sunset over the ocean and a piece of beach and it was all surrounded by tropical leaves, Jinx's eyes on the painting on the wall lit up maybe and it was vandalism, but she liked it. Moving her gaze, her dreamy eyes quickly replaced the cold when she met Price's judgmental and nervous blue eyes.

They fought a war on sight, who wins who was right? – Maybe that’s how you see it, but I think differently – her voice was silent, resembling the hiss of a snake, or did the good idyll end? Five days after she arrived, the bubble Price thought they were stuck in burst? Was it that Jinx who lived on the streets and wreaked havoc by robbing people and starting fights? He didn't know, but he guessed

- Not Jinx. Drop it – his voice left no room for discussions she wanted to have anyway – Normal people wash this shit away, nobody wants a wall like that. It's ugly, no need –

He moved on his steps were long which caused him to quickly make his way, but Jinx did not follow him as for the past few days she kept following him like a lost mongrel. Because she had to

- Maybe you think so, but I get joy from it – she confessed watching Price leave, but stops when she started her monologue – Or maybe someone also gets inspiration from it or joy from such works? – asked rhetorically

- No one gets joy from it or delves into what this vandalism represents, what it is aimed at – He wanted to end this discussion – We are going to Jinx’s house – He ordered without leaving anything to discuss, ended it with a simple order, which she had to follow. She didn't want to upset him any more, even though she wondered what he was like when he was annoyed.

What's he like when he gets pissed off? She wanted to know the answer to that question, but she preferred not to risk seeing that bearded face red with anger. She obediently directed her steps towards his apartment, remained silent and clasped her hands on the stolen items in her pockets – Someday you’ll have to understand this – she whispered to herself, she didn’t want his ears to hear it – Sooner or later you’ll understand it – she muttered and her voice barely resembled a whisper. It's like she's just moving her lips and not a word comes out of her mouth.

And yet he heard it. But he didn't comment, he didn't comment because he didn't want to agree or he didn't comment because he didn't understand her. All the way back they were both silent, grave silence filled them, no mouths moved to make any sound even the birds were afraid to chirp.

It was so quiet, but the atmosphere could be cut with a knife, even the bluntest knife. She stooped to escape to the room she was living in and lock herself in so she could hug the bear. He wanted to sit on the armchair and delve into a book or get back to work on paperwork, where there was no end in sight. And so it happened

Jinx was in the room and she was in bed and he was sitting in his office over papers and the office lamp was the only light source in his office. With both minds distracted, everyone thought over their words trying to understand who was right. Who won that rattle?

John's mind was working at high speed not only because of the paperwork, but also because of the conversation with Jinx, he was right he knew about it, but at the same time he wanted to get the fascination out of her head. That's what the most normal parent would do, right?

Who's he kidding? He's not a parent. He's gonna change her. To adapt to society, to show what is normal and what is forbidden, to learn the rules and not to feel at ease in its company. He neglected his task, in his opinion, he did it wrong, he should have done it differently.

He should have done differently. He didn't have to learn about her past or what she was interested in or what she thought, he had to adapt her to society. So he'll do it.

But he didn't want to hurt her. But why did that thought light up in his head as if that thought was a flower I was trying to knock up so I could eat the sun's rays to release a beautiful flower

No. He couldn't let it happen, Kate's words stuck in his head. He had to plant a weed next to the plant so that the idea would die as soon as it came up.

[themistressofdolls]

An insult to life itself

I rolled out of bed feeling tired and low on energy from being up late watching the feed. Just one more I told myself and before I knew it the clock had hit four am before I finally let myself drift off for the night.

Didn't help my head was killing me, bad sleep hygiene they called it right? I saw a short video talking about it the other night.

The lonely nights gazing at the screen blurred into each other days becoming weeks becoming months then years.

Dad was in the living room watching the network which generated a new version of the The Sopranos finale made in America in which a gun man comes out of the bathroom and Tony quickly guns him down with an uzi before a small army of mafia goons enter the Holsten's to take him on in a heroic last stand.

I watched as the digitally resurrected corpse of James Gandolfini shot his way through countless men before looking at the camera “Families what its all about and I'm not going to let any of these bastards unseat me as the boss! We're going to war, to finish this.” as he looked at Carmela and kissed her.

Then Walter White from breaking bad entered the Holstens “So you're the big boss of New Jersey? I came all the way from Albuquerque, the names Heisenberg and I need your help to take out a man named Gus Fring...Do this and you'll be untouchable.”

The old man typed into the touchscreen to begin generating season seven, maybe this one would have a cross over with the wire, through I worry he's running out of ideas for prompts along with shows to pick apart for what ifs.

“Morning.” I shouted as I dragged myself into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

As I scrubbed I took out my pad “Generate Lo-jam pop rock something with Teal ocean wave pre future aesthetic.” I said as the service responded taking a few seconds to generate an entire playlist with album covers of random shapes of vague nostalgic imagery.

After washing up I returned to the living room “Can you change your little brothers food bag before you head out to work?” My dad asked apathetically before his attention returned to the Sopranos season seven.

Grabbing a gel pack from the cupboard I opened the door to Nicolas room, who was still inside his media pod, most likely watching HappyApple which generates educational kids content(tm).

Took me back since it was the same educational program I underwent when I was his age, after all its generative AI engine was built and approved personally by the TemuDisneyWonderbread company.

I remember my Grandfather told us about schools from back in his day where you had to leave the home to study when he was a kid, that was before the government de-funded them since innovations made such archaic things obsolete anyway.

After changing the bag I headed outside to grab an Amazon Tesla rideshare to work, during the ride the radio was tuned into GPT 7.02 digital generating a story about the recent efforts of the American regeneration organizations efforts to clean up the east coast radiation trench, a relic from the deepfake wars which was before my time but grandfather told me all about it and how a plague of misinformation caused world war three.

Passing through the city I saw some graffiti on a wall, yet somehow it reminded me of when I was a child, that I wanted to be an artist once.

Silly notion I grew out of thankfully, after all that's not a real job and besides we have machines to do all that stuff now.

[stardroptasteslikesocialism]

Rockstar!Eddie and Alt-pop!reader weren’t looking for a rebound.

Manhattan, NY | December 1989.

“Look, Gareth, I’m not in the mood.”

Gareth sighed as he watched his friend sit alone on the beaten tour bus sofa, strumming his beloved BC Rich mindlessly.

“I’m saying this as your friend, Ed:  you need to get out of here. We can’t deal with watching you mope around over Jess anymore.”

Eddie huffed at his friend, “What makes you think this is about Jess?”

“Oh, nothing,” Gareth sighed, “Just the fact that you’ve played her mixtape nonstop since Thanksgiving. Or the fact that your ass doesn’t leave this couch unless we’re playing. Or maybe, maybe it’s the fact that you booted her song - that got us on the Billboard I might add - off our set list.”

The mindless strums quieted as Eddie rested his head against the tour bus wall behind him and sighed.

‘Look, I know you loved her, dude,” Gareth slumped into the empty spot next to his friend, “But sometimes, y’know, chicks just can’t do the long distance thing. She kind of had a point, you know.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, waiting on Gareth’s point.

“We’re not kids anymore, Ed,” Gareth shrugged, “If she wants to settle down in Hawkins like everyone else our age, she has a right to. It’s not fair to drag out what’s not meant to be if you both are miserable. Face it, even when you were together you still moped because you missed her. Tell me I’m wrong. I dare you.”

Eddie sat silent. Gareth wasn’t wrong; about any of it.

“Look, Jeff’s buddy invited us out to this hole-in-the-wall club in Hell’s Kitchen. Some kind of artsy, hippie shit. Thought it’d be cool.”

A quick snort of air left Eddie’s nostrils as he mulled it over. Artsy, hippie shit sounded like code for mushrooms and weed, which he could’ve honestly used more of in that moment. 

“You know what? Fine,” Eddie slapped either side of the worn leather as he hopped off the sofa, “Not like I got anything to lose anymore, right?”

Gareth grinned and clapped Eddie’s back, “Let’s get you to the Land of the Living, Munson.”

It didn’t take long for Eddie to realize this club was completely different from what he was expecting. Instead of the loud, psychedelic club scene he’d been used to this tour, the club gave a starving poet’s vibe; aside from the worn graffiti on the brick walls, this place could easily double as a coffee shop (which, Eddie found out later from the bartender, it did during the day). Eddie could’ve easily brushed this place off and sulked back to the tour bus; but a unique voice, what Eddie would classify as an airy rasp, radiated from the speakers, directing his gaze to an absolute angel sitting at an antique piano in the corner of the bar.

“What’s up, guys?” You casually asked into the mic. A couple regulars called back and gave a brief applause, “Thanks for coming out tonight. I’m back again with some new stuff I’ve been working on.”

Eddie barely took his eyes off you long enough to order an old fashioned. The melody that flowed through your fingers to the keys to the speakers left him speechless. It was light, with an air of melancholy; something Eddie could relate to all too well. He fixated on the loose curls that framed your face; your large doe eyes the stars of the show before you’d started singing. Then it was your pillowy lips, painted a deep merlot. And your voice.

Goddamn, Man Child. 

You fucked me so good that I almost said ‘I love you’.

That lyric earned a couple wolf whistles from the crowd.

You’re fun, and you’re wild. 

But you don’t know the half of the shit that you put me through.

As you continued, Gareth glanced at his friend whose gaze never left you.

Your poetry’s bad and you blame the news.

But I can’t change that and I can’t change your mood.

‘Cuz you’re just a man. It’s just what you do.

Your head in your hands

As you color me blue.

Eddie could feel the gutteral pain in your words, disguised in such a delicate tune. He stayed in his trance until the song was over and you were met with polite applause. Eddie joined, albeit a little more loudly.

“Thank you,” you waved to the crowd, “You have no idea how much your support means to me. Look, we got some other great talent here, tonight. Be sure to show them and our barkeep, Jim, some love too. Good night!”

In the mere seconds it took for him to down the whiskey in his glass, a voice from behind made him jump.

“Well, of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, Corroded Coffin walks into mine.”

Eddie turned around, struck dumb by your presence before him.

“Uh, uh - yeah. Jeff, our drummer, invited us over,” Eddie stammered as you took the barstool next to him, ordering your usual from Jim. Eddie quickly gestured at Jim to put it on his tab, “I’m Eddie; Eddie Munson.”

“Oh, believe me, I know who you are,” you replied with a crooked smile, “My ex is a big fan.”

“I take it he’s the man child you were singing about?”

You nodded, quietly thanking Jim as he placed your drink on the bar, “But I gotta say, his taste in music was the one good quality about him. That song of yours, the one that’s on the charts right now-”

“Follow You?” Eddie guessed, his eyes lighting up.

“Yes! I actually really liked it. Definitely didn’t expect it from a bunch of metalheads.”

Eddie laughed at the (hopefully) unintentional jab, “I mean, what can I say? Us metalheads have feelings, too. Imagine that?”

“Did you write that?” You asked, taking a sip of your vodka soda. Eddie nodded.

“Yeah, yeah. That was me. I wrote it for my girl at the time, but I guess once it started hitting the Billboard, shit just didn’t work out,” Eddie quickly ordered another drink, “She broke it off last time I was back home.”

“That sucks,” you empathized, “At least my breakup was kind of mutual.”

Eddie only nodded in agreement, trying to pry the conversation out of the hole that was their exes.

“So, what’s a pretty, young, insanely talented girl like you doing playing a spot like this?”

You paused a second before answering, “I’m a junior at NYU.”

“Damn,” Eddie replied, impressed, “What’re ya studying?”

“Classical piano and composure,” you answered casually, as if you were naming off your to-do list, “Not sure if it’ll go anywhere, but I like the idea of making music. That’s why I play here in my downtime. It’s nice to play something other than Beethoven and Chopin every once in a while.”

“Are you kidding me?” Eddie asked, bewildered, “You’re incredible!” You raised an eyebrow at him, “I - I mean, your music - is, is incredible. What I heard out there? I could see that charting way above Follow You instantly.”

“Oh, I’m sure you say that to every musician you talk up at a bar,” you joked.

“No, I’m serious. Look,” Eddie swiftly grabbed a pen off Jim and a bar napkin and started scribbling, “My manager, Dave, knows some higher ups. He’s more used to managing shitheads like Corroded Coffin, but he could pull some strings if you’re interested,” he slid a napkin with a phone number scrawled across it, “There’s the number to their City office, if you want to set up a demo.”

You stare at the napkin, shocked, before sliding it into your purse, “Thank you. I’ll think about it.”

Eddie stood stunned as you grabbed the pen from him and started writing on your bar napkin, “And here’s my number. Maybe we could get together next time you’re in the city.”

“How ‘bout New Years Eve?” Eddie asked, “Got any plans? The guys & I were just gonna go to Times Square. Y’know, do the tourist-y shit and watch the ball drop.”

You met his eyes with a genuine smile, “Sure, I’d like that.”

You agreed to meet at the bar for drinks before walking through Times Square. And that’s how you rang in 1990 with a kiss from Corroded Coffin’s front man. And that’s how you rang in every New Year since.

[inktheory3]

My thoughts on the Fresh Season 2023 update!

Hey all, this is a different kind of post, where I'll be going over every new addition to the game, serving as an update post and my thoughts on the new content!

So lets just jump right into it!

Splatoon Fresh Season 2023: 3.0.0

Inkopolis DLC:

This update introduced the first wave of paid DLC! DLC owners can now travel to Inkopolis, essentially serving as a new hub world skin. (note the wording used, "Travel to this city?" perhaps more hub worlds are coming?)

Inkopolis is functionally identical to Splatsville, which is disappointing but understandable. There's no Squid Jump, the former arcade machine is now a terminal to order items from Hotlantis, and all shop owners share the same stock as the Splatsville shops. Some people hate these choices, but they make sense as parity decisions between the 2 hub worlds. What I am disappointed about is the Grizzco and pvp lobbies being identical to Splatsville's. Even the graffiti is identical!

The new and returning characters and settings have phenomenal designs, as expected for the series, and I appreciate the compact and sleek hub design as opposed to how spread out and chaotic Splatsville is. I will forever cherish Shelly & Donny's designs and mannerisms (Donny calls the lobby the WOBBY!) and Fred Crumbs is a new favourite character of mine.

Overall, Wave 1 of the DLC is great, it's essentially an entrée. You don't pay for reservations at a restaurant to eat breadsticks, but its important to serve them to keep us busy while the real meat and potatoes of the DLC, Side Order, is in production.

The Catalog:

As per usual, a new Catalog is coming. There really aren't critiques to be said. Flipping through it, all the new clothing, decorations, stickers, splashtag title parts, banners and emotes look wonderful.

Thanks to datamining, I've already seen all the new emotes. Every season the emotes get more and more expressive! Rootin' Tootin' is going to be permanently equipped as soon as I hit level 73. Again, there is 1 disappointment for me. The Reppin' Inkopolis emote (which is completely free, you don't need the DLC for, which I appreciate incredibly) doesn't have new Splatoon 1 style animations for the 6 weapon classes introduced since then. (Dualies, Brellas, Stringers and Splatanas; including Brushes and Blasters which were distinguished from Rollers and Shooters respectively in Splatoon 3) The emote is a nostalgia trip for me but having it play the default win animation for new weapon classes is really disappointing.

Related to the catalog, we have a new gear brand, Z+F. It's a collaboration between Zekko and Firefin and the name is a real mouthful. I don't like it at all. There were so many good ideas for mashups of Zekko and Firefin; Zekkofin, Finko, Z-Fire and so on! Z+F isn't a bad name per say, but it is disappointing to be included among all the other amazing brand names.

There are 2 more incredibly welcome changes to the catalog system though! From now on, in mystery boxes and shell-out capsules, you have a small chance of receiving catalog exclusive items. Previously, if you didn't get a catalog exclusive item during the season it introduced, it would never appear in your shops, and the exclusive emotes, banners and title parts were gone forever. Now you still have a chance, which is really great!

Finally, in the last week of every season, you'll get a 1.2x closeout bonus for catalog points, helping you finish out your catalog before the new season starts. These are 2 amazing changes to help players with less time on their hands to get their hands on content without making players who earned it the old way feel cheapened.

New Stages:

Um'ami Ruins and Manta Maria have been added to the game! As of now I can't speak on them, as they aren't playable, but from datamined screenshots they seem to follow the unfortunate Splatoon 3 trend of reworking older maps to be cramped and creating 1 dimensional new maps.

New Special Weapons:

2 new special weapons have been released!

The Kraken Royale is a transformation, turning you into a Kraken for 8 seconds. (up to 10 with special power up) You can squid roll and surge during it, and colliding with an enemy deals 60 damage, while a charged attack deals 100 piercing damage.

This weapon is a complete counter to Crab Tank, it oneshots the Crab Tank user with a single charge attack. Other than that, I'm a bit concerned about the invincibility of the special weapon, despite the start and end vulnerability, invincibility was a problematic part of Splatoon 1 and 2's special design.

It also steps on Ultra Stamp and Reefsliders toes a little too much for my liking. These other 2 specials are simply outclassed by Kraken! In addition to being buggy and under-tuned, Krakens invincibility and mobility outclasses them both on a mechanical level, which is a shame.

A new special weapon, the Super Chump, was introduced. Horrible name aside, this weapon allows you to pick a spot on the map to deploy a barrage of bombs! Once you pick a location, a dozen Super Chumps create fake super jump landings and stick to the ground, exploding 4 seconds later. Enemies won't die to a single Super Chump, as they only deal 30-60 damage on their lonesome, but they are excellent displacement tools.

Similar to Kraken Royale, this weapon steps on a lot of toes. It is essentially another variation of "random bullshit go!" where you pick a spot to throw a bomb(s) to force enemies to move. It didn't need to be this similar to Booyah Bomb, Triple Inkstrike AND Tenta Missiles! In fact it is essentially a replacement for Tenta Missiles, seeing that the 2 weapons that have it also have identical sub weapons to their Splatoon 2 kits, without the Missiles!

There really was an obvious way to make Super Chump unique. The super jump landings are an interesting idea, but they're very useless. They don't function any differently to other special indicators, as no one will believe 12 super jumps at once all in their own ink. Rather, Super Chump could have been a unique engagement special, where you are also shot forwards alongside the Super Chumps, forcing the enemy to either run and and concede the space to you, or try to guess which super jump landing is the real one and try to splat you.

Overall, these specials are cool and well designed, but their similarities to existing specials puts a sour taste in my mouth.

New Main Weapons:

Of course we can't have new specials without new main weapons.

Here they are:

Neo Sploosh-o-matic: Squid Beakon/ Killer Wail 5.1

Neo Splash-o-matic: Suction Bomb/ Triple Inkstrike

N-ZAP '89: Autobomb/ Super Chump

.96 Gal Deco: Splash Wall/ Kraken Royale

Custom Jet Squelcher: Toxic Mist/ Ink Storm

L-3 Nozzlenose D: Burst Bomb/ Ultra Stamp

Rapid Blaster Deco: Torpedo/ Inkjet

Clash Blaster Neo: Curling Bomb/ Super Chump

Krak-On Splat Roller: Squid Beakon/Kraken Royale

Z+F Splat Charger/ Splatterscope: Splash Wall/ Triple Inkstrike

Tri-Slosher Nouveau: Fizzy Bomb/ Tacticooler

Now all of these kits are phenomenal. Ignoring the viability of certain subs and specials, all of these kits work and look fun. In the last season we got a couple of stinkers like Snipewriter 5H with Sprinkler/ Tacticooler. This time every kit makes sense. There's a valid playstyle and a weapon for everyone here which I really respect. In a perfect world where all of these main, sub and special weapons are balanced well, all of these kits would have their time in the spotlight.

My only issue is the obvious preferences the Splatoon Devs have for kits. Only FOUR shooters are yet to get a second kit, while Brellas, Stringers and Splatanas remain completely unrepresented. Every other class has only 1 or 2 secondary kits! This is a shame because Splatoon promotes inclusivity and that needs to be apparent in the game and its updates. The new kits need to give something new to play with for every type of player, and they simply aren't.

Online Functions:

Pools have been added! They're essentially the same as Mario Kart 8 lobbies, or arenas in Super Smash Bros. Ultimate. You can create a pool, choose whether its open or password protected, and people can join and play! This is amazing. It allows for so much versatility in playing with friends, playing with chatters on stream, new people on discord or with people in tournaments and LAN meetups! Really, a phenomenal addition.

Tableturf Battle can now be played online! You can even spectate regular battles, not just in private lobbies. This also comes with 23 new cards! This is a welcome addition, and I understand why it wasn't packaged in the base game, but I'm happy it's here either way.

Salmon Run:

A new King Salmonid has been added! Horrorboros, the flying serpent, charges and shoots Booyah Bombs at workers. A new Big Run event is also happening right away which is really promising for the future of events in Splatoon.

New Scale rewards have been added! Splatoon 2 Grizzco gear has been added in a new tab of the Scale Shop, and Splatoon 2's "Gloopsuits" have been added, as a counterpart to the Slopsuits, if you'd like a different work look. All good additions!

In addition, Eggstra Work has been added, making use of the Salmon Run scenario feature. In this 2 day event, you must assemble a team with your friends and run through 5 preset waves to get as many eggs as possible, getting rewards for what percentile of eggs you collected in 1 shift. This is also a welcome addition, more modes are always great, but it's a bit troublesome.

First of all, it steps on Big Runs toes. The addition of Big Run already lowered how many Splatfests we get, and now theres a 3rd weekend event! They could of course have every event happen 2-3 times a season, but I'm concerned about the Devs tuning down the amount of events every month.

Secondly, it doesn't feel like a weekend event in the same way Big Run and Splatfests are. There are elements of surprise in the former 2 events, but in Eggstra Work, once you've played it once, you've played it a million times. Unlike Big Run there is a maximum amount of eggs you can get. It will get boring over the course of 2 days, and you need friends to play it, it can't be played in freelance.

I really wish they didn't make Eggstra Work a limited event. It would've been great as a permanent game mode that rotates monthly! A sort of counterpart to freelance the same way that League Battles were a counterpart to X Battles. at the turn of every month a new map, weapons and scenarios are selected for the Eggstra Work shift, and teams of 4 compete for top leaderboard spots throughout the month.

People tend to grind out weekend events, and I feel that Eggstra Works repetitiveness will lead to burnout if it gets condensed to a 2 day period.

Balance Changes:

I am disappointed with the Devs fear of making big changes to Splatoon 3's meta. They only changed 1 main weapon, the Big Swig, this patch. They didn't directly nerf Crab Tank, only giving Inkjet, Trizooka and Ultra Stamp damage multipliers against the Crab Tank's armor. They buffed underused weapons by decreasing their special gauge by 10p, which really doesn't fix their problems, as for weapons like Ballpoint Splatling, Aerospray MG and N-ZAP '85, their problems aren't that their specials are too hard to get, its that their specials aren't particularly good when you get them.

Finally, they changed maps, which is promising. I don't mind small changes to maps, despite my feelings about the above small balance changes. I appreciate them understanding that they went wrong with their maps and small changes are a gateway to big changes, but as of now, the small changes they've added feel like bandaid solutions to an underlying problem with the map design.

The Jukebox:

Every song in Splatoon 3 has been given a name! The Jukebox is a great addition to Splatoon, allowing you to pick what songs play in the lobby. Again, I have a small gripe. It is annoying that you have to pay every time you want to use the Jukebox, when in Splatoon 2 you could listen to every song for free.

Badges:

There are a whole slew of new Badges and I really appreciate the direction they're going in.

Of course there are new badges for the special weapons, Horrorboros, Eggstra Work and Z+F. They also added badges for the Inkopolis shop keepers, adding another incentive to swap between hub worlds, which I really like!

Finally, they added Level and X rank badges. There are 12 Level badges, for reaching level 30/50/100/200/300/400/500/600/700/800/900/999, and X rank badges for reaching top 3000/500/10 on the leaderboards. This expands on the direction I like, but also highlights a glaring flaw.

It's impossible to 100% Splatoon 3's badge system, it's meant to a system to let you show off the way you play Splatoon! But I don't really like the design of the badges themselves.

In the case of most badges, the colors have inherent symbolism. Bronze means 3rd place, Silver means 2nd place and Gold means 1st. Once you get a gold badge variant, the rest are inferior. If you use the bronze or silver badges, its implying to other players that you aren't the best at this milestone you're showing off. Even if you dedicate all your time to Salmon Run, if you don't put thousands of hours in, your badges will always look worse than what you could have. This is especially in the Level badges, the level 999 badge is stunning, and other impressive milestone badges, like the level 100 badge, looks horrible. You have players putting in so much time and effort for badges that are a downgrade to others.

Even if you do put in a lot of time into the game, unless you specialise in a specific game mode, your badges won't look good. I have over 1k hours in Splatoon 3, but my playstyle's given me 90+ mediocre badges and 1 or 2 impressive badges. I have the 5 star Hydra Splatling badges, acquired 300 hours in, and fifteen 4 star weapon badges, a couple silver Salmon Run and Special weapon badges and so on. I put a lot of time into this game but I have nothing cool to show off, my current badge layout on my Splashtag doesn't have an identity to it, it looks just like a Splashtag someone with a couple hundred hours in Splatoon 3. It doesn't speak to my achievements, my playstyle, it conveys that my milestones aren't the peak, that my Silver Booyah Bomb badge isn't impressive because there are people with Gold Booyah Bomb badges.

1 thing I'd do to remedy this is make badges for getting badges. This would help players who don't specialise in anything and instead are good at everything. I don't know what this badge would look like, but badges for getting 10, 30 or 100 badges would be cool.

I'd also like Sheldon badges! You get badges for getting stars on your gear, why not badges of Sheldon for getting stars on weapons. I've counted, I have over 200 combined stars on my weapons, and nothing to show for it.

Finally, I'd like every badge to be more unique, and not just be recolored variations of eachother. What if the Gold Maws badge wasn't gold, and instead it was stylised art of Maws lunging at the screen. What if the N-ZAP '85's 5 star badge was pixelated. What if the Hydra Splatling's 5 star badge was on fire. What I'm saying is, instead of making the tiers of badges just recolors of the lower tiers, they should look visually different, to make them stand out more and give lower tiered badges purpose for existing and remove the negative connotations with their coloring.

Minor Changes:

There are quite a few small additions in this update! of course there's new gear. But there's a lot more coming!

Lockers can now be wiped clean with the - (minus) button if you want to start over. The amount of items on display in shops has been increased to 9 from 6. You can preview Scale reward items at Grizzco, similar to Hotlantis! Color Lock was adjusted during Tricolor Battles to accommodate for colorblind players. Winners of 10, 100 and 333x battles will be broadcast to your friends and on the Anarchy Splatcast!

Connection Errors are now dealt with player-side. Instead of the match grinding to a halt, laggy players will be notified and have their controls removed if the lag persists. Terrific!

Closing Thoughts:

Overall, despite my complaints, I really like this update. The team over at Splatoon is doing a good job and I'm excited. With these changes they're heading in the right direction and we can only hope they keep on this trend with bigger and better changes. I'll see you all on the battlefield! Stay fresh!

[miidnightpoet]

Sweetheart (minific) 2/??

CHAPTER 1: TOUR STARTS TOMORROW

several months later

Steve pov

“ROBIN!!” Steve yelled up the stairs, “HAVE YOU SEEN MY SUNGLASSES?” They were back at the Harrington house in Hawkins grabbing anything they would need/want while on tour around the US that they hadn’t already brought to New York. 

“ARE THEY ON YOUR HEAD?” Robin yelled down at him, he rolled his eyes. Why would they be-

Oh, they were indeed on his head. 

“NEVERMIND” he called back, shaking his head. He put down the donation box that they were going to drop by the kids apartment before leaving it to them to drop off at the donation center. After much debate with Robin they had decided to not sell his parent’s house, well his house now.

His parents had booked it outta there after the “earthquake”. Since Hawkins had been home for so long they couldn’t bring themselves to say goodbye to a house with so many good memories. All the pool parties Steve never swam at, every sleepover and movie night even the DnD nights Dustin had dragged them into. 

Steve sighed, he was going to miss the kids while he was on tour. The good thing was he had talked to his tour manager Ellen about getting the kids prepaid flights and VIP tickets to his LA show so he’d be seeing them soon. 

Now all he had to tackle was his bedroom, you’d think that's the first place you’d start packing up when moving out for several months but he’s been avoiding it. 

“Robin wanna help me with my room?” he called as he passed her room, the chaotic girl had moved in around three weeks after his parents left. 

“Yea hold on!” she called back, she was probably deep within her closet, looking for good tour outfits even after Steve had told her “we can go shopping in New York” and “i can get you a style coordinator” lord knows he needed one. 

Steve placed his old backpack on his bed, he wasn’t planning on taking much from his room. He pulled a list out of his back pocket that he had made the night he found out about the tour.

How to bring everyone with me without bringing them with me: Tour checklist

Get drawings that Will and El made him while he was in the hospital framed

his scoops ahoy hat that Dustin, Robin and Erica had graffitied beyond repair

his grandfather’s watch

the bi flag D&D necklace that Dustin made at camp that Steve refused to admit he loves

his Farrah Fawcett hairspray (obviously)

“Drugs” Mixtapes that he, Jonathan and Argyle had made while high out of their minds

He walked around his room grabbing his scoops hat looking at it fondly before carefully putting it in his bag when Robin walked in with a suitcase. “What's that for?” he asked, pointing at the suitcase.

“Your clothes” she said it like it was so obvious.

“Robbie, i already have clothes in New York” Steve rolled his eyes, she was there when he had bought new clothes.

“Yea only because you're a basic bitch with your clothes there, these” she pulled out his slightly torn gray bomber jacket from ‘84. “Are clothes that say Im a bad bitch with an edge, also you have like zero jackets and it gets so cold there” 

Steve laughed, “alright, to be fair i do need some jackets but only some, i trust you” He went on to collect the rest of the things on the list.

“Hey Steve, what's this?” Robin asked, pulling out a dust covered box from the very abc of his closet.

“Uhh i don’t know you can open it though it's probably just old stuff from when i was a kid” he told her not looking at the box.

“Cool!” Robin answered, he heard her brushing all the dust off the box, probably onto his floor. 

“Um Steve,” her voice had increased in excitement in those short seconds.

Steve turned around to look at her, the box she had pulled sitting somewhat open. From where he was standing he couldn't see the contents of the box. 

‘I don’t think this is from your childhood, come here” She told him.

Steve waved it off, “Robbie I'm sure it is, now have you seen the Bi flag D&D necklace Henderson made me?” he asked “and no i'm not wearing, although i'd like to be” 

“Umm try the bottom drawer of your nightstand or something” she told him half heartedly, probably engrossed in the embarrassing stuff from his childhood.

“Mk, but i don't think it’ll be there” he told her, Steve crouched down to open the bottom drawer of the nightstand, surprisingly it was there. Laying with a collection of other jewelry he had started collecting and some that the other kids had made him. 

“Steve what about bringing this jacket on tour” Robin asked him, 

“Hold on, let me just put my jewelry in a travel case,” Steve told her standing up, the travel container he had been holding almost dropped to the floor. The jacket Robin had been talking about  was Eddie’s battle vest/jacket, the one that he had worn during the Battle of Hawkins.  “shit , i forgot i had that”

“Bullshit, you knew you still had it” Robin told him annoyed, she had this way of just knowing when to call his bull sometimes. It was helpful most times but not today.

“Fine i knew i still had it! but i did forget it was in that box” He argued

“The box clearly labeled Eddie?” Robin rolled her eyes. 

“Ugh you caught me, but I should probably come clean on a couple things,” Steve wrung his hands around the back of his neck, he hadn’t told anyone about the night Eddie left, not even Robin.

part one -> here

part 2 -> this here rn what you just read