#WHY DID THEY KEEP THIS FROM US FOR SO LONG

[starkwlkr]

she’s always a woman | max verstappen

an: this fic is a special birthday fic for my lovely friend anto!! happy birthday love!! hope you enjoy your special day <3 also let’s just pretend that lewis wasn’t battling max for the championship in 2021 instead it’s max and the reader

tw: jos mention and narcissistic mother

Max couldn’t really remember why your friendship ended. He was always there when you needed a shoulder to cry on, when you had a bad race and needed some support, etc. He was always there so when you stopped talking to him, he was confused and hurt.

KARTING DAYS

At the time, the boys you raced against hated being beat by a girl. It was humiliating! A girl was faster than them? No way! But when Max Verstappen saw how fast you were, he was amazed. You made it look so easy.

“How many trophies do you have now?” Seven year old Max asked you as you two shared a bag of gummy bears, your favorite snack.

“I haven’t counted. What about you?” You questioned.

“I haven’t counted either.” He replied.

It was a long day of practice and all Max wanted to do was spend time with you and eat gummy bears. He noticed how you only ate certain colors like red, blue, orange and yellow. He asked why only those colors and your response was that those colors were your favorites, all the other colors looked unappetizing.

Spending time with you was something Max loved about karting. Most of the boys you competed with would rather lose than hang out with a girl, but not Max. He liked being around you. And it seemed like you liked having Max around too so it made no sense to Max why you stopped talking to him.

As time went on, Jos Verstappen kept a close eye on you. He certainly didn’t want some girl distracting his son. He kept telling Max how much of a bad influence you were, but of course Max didn’t listen. Why would he? He liked you and you liked him.

Unlike Max, your mother’s words went to your head.

“He’s just like the other boys, sweetheart. When you least expect it, he’s going to leave you heartbroken.” Your mother told you one day after another successful win. She watched the way Max stood next to you on the podium and clapped for you.

“But he’s my friend.” You said lowly.

“What did I say about this sport? You are not here to make friends, they are not your friends and neither is he. He’s competition and if you want to keep winning then you need to keep away from that boy!”

The next time Max saw you, he was the heartbroken one. Every time he kept trying to get your attention, you ignored him and turned the other way.

Did I do something wrong? Maybe I forgot her birthday? No, it was a month ago and we ate chocolate cake together.

All day Max was wondering what he did to make you upset. He had even brought a tiny bag with only red, blue, orange and yellow gummy bears for you. He had spent an hour picking out your favorite gummy bears and now you weren’t talking to him. . .

Little Max Verstappen had his first heartbreak at the hands of his first love.

The next day he figured you would start talking to him, but it was like he didn’t even exist in your world. He was starting to lose hope.

“Good, now you won’t have any distractions.” Jos told him after Max mentioned how you had stopped talking to him.

“But she wasn’t!”

“She was.” Jos confirmed.

Max stayed quiet. He knew it was no use trying to argue with his father.

As you both grew up, Max was beside you at every podium even if you weren’t on speaking terms. He hoped that maybe one day you would speak to him. He also kept a plastic bag in his bag with your favorite gummy bears to share with you in case that day ever came.

2021 SEASON

Max was both nervous and excited for the last few races of the season. Both you and him were battling for the championship. It was like a dream come true for him, both of you in Formula 1 and now you’re both in the championship picture. He wouldn’t have it any other way. To Max, it would’ve been better if you could at least acknowledge him.

It was after the Brazilian Grand Prix when Max wanted to congratulate you on your win, but had to wait until you finished with your interviews. He was eager to talk to you.

The post-race interviews were a whirlwind, but the moment that caught your attention was when a reporter, eager for a headline, asked you about Max Verstappen.

“We've heard that you and Max were childhood friends. What’s the story there? You two seem to be fierce competitors now. Was there any friendship left between you, or is it all business these days?"

Your smile tightened. It was the last thing you wanted to discuss, but you were a professional, and you knew better than to let your personal life spill over into the press room. Your gaze flicked to the corner where Max was conducting his own interviews, but you quickly refocused on the question.

“Max and I... we were friends, sure," you said coolly, your voice steady but your tone sharp, almost as if you were trying to distance yourself from the memory. "But that was a long time ago. I don’t really have time for friendships anymore. Racing’s my focus. It always has been."

“But you were so close back then," the reporter pressed. "Is it hard to battle him for the title, given your history?"

You shrugged, trying to maintain your composure. "Racing's not about who you used to be friends with. It’s about who’s the best right now. And I’m focused on being the best."

“So, no hard feelings?" he asked, genuinely curious.

You didn’t miss a beat. "No time for feelings," you replied, your lips curling into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Just results."

After finishing all your interviews, you walked back to your driver’s room. All you wanted was to lay down and take a much needed nap, but the sweet voice of a Dutchman stopped you. It had been years since you heard Max say your name.

Before you could say anything, Max stood up abruptly and walked toward you, his stride purposeful. He reached out, grabbing your arm with a firm grip, pulling you into your room without a word.

“Let go of me, Max," you whispered, but your voice cracked.

“No," he said simply, his tone rough, but his eyes were soft—something in them that you hadn’t seen in years. "I’m not letting you walk away again."

Your heart skipped a beat. His eyes searched yours, that fierce intensity you remembered from your childhood still present, though now mixed with something else—pain, perhaps. The unspoken hurt you both carried for so long hung between you two.

“Max," you began, but he cut you off.

“Why did you stop talking to me?" His voice was quieter now, but the question hung in the air, sharp and urgent. “Everyday i asked myself ‘did I do something wrong? Did I say something that hurt her?’ What is is? Why?”

Your throat tightened. You took a shaky breath, your eyes lowering to the floor. "You were my competition," you muttered. "And my mother… she made it clear. She said you would take everything from me. That I needed to stop talking to you or I’d lose everything." Your chest constricted, and you felt a sudden wave of bitterness rise within you. "She said you were nothing more than a threat to my future, and I had to focus—focus on winning.” It pained you to even remember all the talks your mother had with you about Max.

Max stared at you for a moment, taking in your words. The silence that followed was thick, the air between them charged with everything unspoken. Then, slowly, he stepped closer.

“I never wanted to take anything from you." His eyes were filled with a quiet sincerity that made your stomach twist. "I never asked for this. I never asked for us to be enemies."

Your breath hitched as a knot formed in your chest. You stepped back, your hands trembling. "But that’s what she wanted. She wanted me to beat you, to prove I was better. To make sure you didn’t have what I could have." Your voice cracked, the words tumbling out in a flood of emotion you had long kept hidden. "I—"

Your words faltered as you felt the familiar sting of tears threatening to fall. You tried to hold them back, but the weight of it all—the pressure, the competition, the years of silence—was too much. You turned away, pressing your palms to your face, feeling the dam break inside you.

Max didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, his arms enveloping you in an instant. You stiffened at first, surprised by the warmth and steadiness of his embrace. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, couldn't think. But then, something inside you snapped, and you collapsed into him, your body shaking as the tears finally came.

Max didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just held you, his hand gently rubbing your back, grounding you in the moment.

"I’m sorry," you whispered between sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You kept repeating.

His grip tightened ever so slightly, as if offering you the comfort and understanding you had been denied for so long. "You didn’t deserve any of that." You clung to him, unable to stop the flood of emotions that had been building for years.

Eventually, the tears slowed, and the sobs turned into shallow breaths. Max didn’t let go. He stayed, a quiet anchor, as if he would hold you for as long as you needed.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes were swollen, your makeup smudged, but you felt something lighter—something like relief, like a door you hadn’t realized was closed had finally opened.

“Does your dad know you’re here?” You wiped away the tears.

“I don’t really care about him right now,” Max responded. He took your hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “You need me right now.”

“Max, I don’t want you to get in trouble. You need to leave.”

“I’m a grown man. He can’t tell me who I can and any talk to.” He said.

“Then . . . I don’t care what my mother says either,” You declared. “You know, she said we couldn’t talk anymore because you were my competition. That I shouldn’t get too close to you. She thought it would make me weak."

“Your mom never understood that... you’re not my competition. You never were. You were my best friend. And I . . . I miss that.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Max.”

QATAR

The camera lights flickered on, and the usual hum of the media circus surrounded Max Verstappen as he sat in front of the press. Another victory under his belt, but the atmosphere in the room felt different today—slightly more tense than usual. The 2021 season was in full swing, and the rivalry between Max and his childhood best friend and fellow F1 driver, had become one of the most talked-about stories of the year.

“Max, earlier this week, someone that you knew quite well was quoted saying, ‘No time for feelings, just results,’ when talking about your past friendship. Given the intensity of your current rivalry, how do you feel about that statement?”

He took a breath and leaned forward, his voice steady but laced with an undeniable undercurrent of emotion.

“she’s one of the most focused and driven people I know. I don’t think anyone truly understands what it’s like to be in her head—how much racing means to her. She’s an artist, in every sense of the word, when it comes to driving. She doesn’t do anything halfway.”

A brief silence fell over the room. Max seemed to weigh his next words carefully.

“We’ve both been through a lot over the years, and yeah . . . I get why she said what she did. This sport can make you say things you don’t always mean. It can make you choose things—like cutting ties with people who used to be your family, just so you can win. But trust me, it’s not easy for her. Or for me.”

His voice softened slightly, the edge of competition giving way to something more genuine—something rooted in your shared history.

“She’s not the kind of person to just forget about things or people. I know her better than anyone,” He continued. It was as if he could talk about you all day and never get bored. “As for the championship, yeah, It’s just the way it is. But that doesn’t change the fact that I respect her more than anyone. She’s a hell of a driver, and I know what she’s capable of.”

Max leaned back slightly, the cool exterior of the driver once again overtaking his emotions. He was a fighter. And this season, he wasn’t just fighting for the title.

ABU DHABI

It had been weeks since your last conversation with Max, but occasionally you would sneak glances at each other. Maybe even smile at him, which caused the media to wonder if your friendship had finally been restored.

The paddock was bustling with the usual pre-race energy—team members darting around, engineers checking telemetry, and drivers preparing for what would be a pivotal race. But Max Verstappen was not focused on the usual chaos. He was standing in front of your motorhome, his jaw clenched as he faced a woman who had been an obstacle in his life for far too long: you mother.

All he wanted to do before the race was to wish you good luck but he had one problem that came in the form of your mother.

“This is a pivotal moment for her career, Max. The championship is on the line. She needs to focus.” Your mother spoke.

Max’s eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t need you to tell her how to focus. She’s not a child anymore. She’s not your puppet.”

She smirked, her gaze calculating. “Oh, I know exactly how to handle her. You, on the other hand, have always been a distraction. Just like you were when you were kids. I told her back then that you were competition. And look where we are now—competing for the championship.”

Max took a step forward, his voice low but sharp. “You don’t get to control her anymore. She doesn’t deserve the way you treated her. She never did. She’s not some tool for you to use to further your own agenda. She’s a person. A damn good one, too.”

Your mother raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smug grin. “And now you think you have feelings for her? After all these years? You’re wasting your time, Max.

Max’s chest tightened, a sudden rush of frustration coursing through him. He had always felt something for you—something deep and complicated—but he hadn’t realized how much until he saw you again. How could he not? The way you made him laugh, the way you understood him in a way no one else did. The way your presence grounded him when the world felt chaotic.

“I’m not wasting my time,” Max snapped, his voice rising. He was no longer just angry; there was something more vulnerable beneath his words. “I... I care about her. More than you’ll ever understand. And I’m not going to just stand by and watch you tear her down again.”

Her eyes widened, the smugness on her face faltering for just a moment. She hadn’t expected that. But she quickly recovered, her icy demeanor back in place. “You think you can just waltz in and change everything, Max? You think she’s going to forget the way I’ve always looked out for her?”

Max’s pulse was racing now. “You’ve never looked out for her. You’ve held her back. You’ve made her feel like she couldn’t trust herself. Do you know how many times she’s questioned her worth because of you?”

Before your mother could reply, Max spoke again. “If you think for a second that I’m going to back off now, you’re wrong.”

Your mother glared at the Dutchman. “I’ve spent years in Formula 1, fighting for every ounce of respect, and now I’m fighting for her, too. And I’m not letting anyone—least of all you—tell me what I can or can’t feel about her.”

His words hung in the air between them, the weight of them settling in. He turned to leave, but paused at the door of your motorhome, looking back one last time.

“Tell her,” Max said, softer now, “Tell her I’ll be waiting at the finish line. I’ll always be waiting.”

Maybe your mother would pass on the message, maybe not. Either way, Max would still be waiting for you.

The roar of the crowd still echoes in the distance, but it’s muffled, almost surreal, as you stand behind the barriers, your helmet under your arm, heart still racing from the intensity of the race. The buzz of the paddock feels far away, and your body is heavy with exhaustion and disappointment. You finished second—close, but not close enough. Max had done it. He’d won the championship, after all the drama and all the battles that had led them to this final, decisive moment.

You lift your eyes and see him, standing by his car. Max, in his usual composed way, looking like he belongs there, like he's always belonged there, standing among the team and the media, all his focus, all his attention fixed on you. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips when he spots you, but it’s the way he’s standing, waiting, that hits you. Like he said he would.

You hesitate for a moment, thinking about your mother’s words, about everything that has always been said about Max—his arrogance, his rivalry, the fact that he’s always been competition. But this, here, this feels like something different. He’s not the enemy anymore. At least, not in the way they used to think of each other.

You take a breath, and then, almost instinctively, you walk toward him. As you step closer, you hear the whisper of her mother’s voice in the back of your mind, a warning you’ve heard so many times before. Stay focused. Don’t let him distract you. He’s your competition, not your friend.

But your steps don’t falter. You reach him, and when you do, you look up at him, your gaze soft, not the hardened competitive stare it once was. Max’s grin deepens, though it’s filled with something almost bittersweet.

“I heard you were waiting for me,” You said, the words slipping out before you can stop them. Your voice is steady, but there’s a touch of vulnerability in it, something you can’t quite mask.

Max’s eyes soften, and for a moment, it feels like time pauses. He looks at you as if he’s not seeing the driver, the fierce competitor, but the girl he used to know—the one he used to race against in karting, the one who once shared the same dream, the one who still, in some ways, understands him better than anyone else.

“I told you I would,” he replies quietly, his voice low and calm. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

Your mind flashes back to the words he said to your mother, the promise he made—I’ll always be waiting.

“You won. Congratulations.”

Max’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a certain warmth in the way he looks at you, a quiet understanding that goes beyond just racing. He takes a step closer, his voice a little softer now. “You’re better than you think. I have a feeling you’ll take it away from me next year.”

You shake your head, but there’s no bitterness in your gesture. “Next year,” you repeat. Your fingers press the edge of your helmet tighter, almost like you’re grounding herself in this moment. But there’s something else too—a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. “Maybe. But I’m just glad you’re here.”

Max’s smile is genuine now. “I’ll always be here. Waiting for you to finally beat me.”

You laugh—a real laugh this time, one that’s not forced. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that one day,” you say, your voice a little lighter. “You should go with your team, I’m sure they’re waiting to drown you in champagne.”

Max chuckles, then steps forward. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, standing in the midst of the chaos, everything else fading into the background. You breathe in, realizing just how much this—this moment—matters more than the championship itself.

“So, Max, you’ve just won the title, but there’s a lot of talk about your competitor. She’s been called ‘too emotional’ in the past by some. What’s your take on how she handled this title fight?”

Max turns towards the reporter, a protective energy surging in him. He absolutely hated doing interviews, all he wanted to do was get back to you. “Well, for one, I think anyone who says she’s ‘too emotional’ is clearly not paying attention. She’s one of the most focused drivers out there. Honestly, anyone who thinks you can compete in this sport at the level we’ve been at, especially in the last few races, without being deeply passionate—well, they don’t understand what it takes.” He glances over at you, who’s trying to hide a smile while also looking frustrated with the question.

While you were a few feet away from him doing your own interview, you could hear Max. You tried hard to listen to the interview questions, but all you wanted to do was listen to what Max had to say.

“isn’t it a bit too much? The way she gets in her own head. She’s been—well, let’s just say, a bit of a perfectionist this season.”

Max shook his head, chuckling at the reporters words. “But, you know, that’s exactly why she’ll be winning a championship someday soon. I have no doubt about it, but I’m excited for the day she takes my championship away.”

Max could hear you burst into laughter at his words. His smile grew ten times bigger. “Seriously, though, she’s one of the most talented drivers I’ve ever known. she’ll steal the show when you least expect it. And maybe she’s a little bit hard to understand at times, but that’s exactly what makes her great.”

The reporter nodded. “Are you saying she’s like, uh, the Billy Joel song?” He asked confused.

Max grinned, clearly amused by the confusion. “She’s always a woman to me. Maybe I’m not the best person to explain it, but you get the idea.”

You chuckled once again as you heard Max. He really had a way with words.

“And one day, I’ll be watching her take the title with the same respect I have for her right now.”

That’s when you decide to step in after finishing your interview. “Maybe, Max. But for now, I think I'll let you have your moment. You’ve earned it.”

“We both did. I owe it all to you.”

[hoshifighting]

the sex ''ick's'' seventeen would give

WARNINGS: it's just for fun, and it doesn't match what the members do out there—so if you don't like, dont read.

seungcheol: his damn ass clapping louder than anything else in the room. like, the rhythm is giving standing ovation, and he’s completely unaware. if you dare mention it, he’ll pretend he didn’t hear.

jeonghan: he’d spend the whole day teasing you, promising he’s gonna ruin you later, only to nut in two minutes flat or tap out ‘cause his arms are tired “ugh, it’s so hot in here,” or “my legs are cramping.”

joshua: crying after nutting. he’s suddenly sniffling, you even got startled on the first time, his body getting REALLY sensitve.

junhui: he’ll mirror your moans, badly. you moan? he mimics it, but it sounds like a parody. like, he thinks he’s harmonizing, but it’s straight-up cringe. you try to ignore it, but he just keeps going.

hoshi: fucking u fully naked, except for his damn stoompas (those ugly-ass luxury brand chunky shoes). “they give me grip,” he’d say, like he’s at a crossfit competition, not blowing your back out. the sight of those big-ass sneakers ruins the vibe every time. (illustrative photos)

wonwoo: absolutely no facial expressions. man could be balls deep in you, and his face is blank, like he’s doing math in his head. but in fact, he's just daydreaming.

woozi: soundtrack enthusiast. he’d insist on playing a playlist he made just for you, but it’s all anime OSTs. like, nothing kills the vibe faster than hearing some intense battle music while he’s thrusting.

minghao: if you’re on top, he’d start giving unsolicited feedback. “tilt your hips a little more—yeah, like that. now, slower.” thinks he’s teaching a masterclass while you’re just trying to survive on his cock.

mingyu: checking himself out mid-thrust. fixing his hair in the mirror. if you call him out with a “are you fucking me or yourself?” he’d blush “n-no, I’m focusing on you!”

seokmin: laughs during the dirtiest parts, like a full belly laugh because he’s nervous or thinks something’s funny. he just goes, “HAHAHA—ah! sorry, I don’t know why I did that.” it’s cute tho...

seungkwan: every little thing is exaggerated—he’s gasping like he’s in a soap opera, grabbing his chest like he’s about to faint. you move slightly? “oh my god, I’m gonna DIE babe!”

vernon: won’t take off his adidas tracksuit. every damn time, it’s on—jacket unzipped, pants pushed down, and he’s acting like this is perfectly normal. while you're getting dizzy almost, from the adidas long lines, and from seeing this tracksuit for the zillionth time this month. [im feeling it too personally bc my dad uses tracksuit's often 😭]

chan: overexplaining everything he’s doing. like, “okay, so now I’m gonna flip you over, and then I’ll go deeper, and—”

[soundwavefucker69]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tell me a soft memory

[headspace-hotel]

i need to be working on finals but instead i spent my time reading the crustiest pdf of some guy's dissertation about canebrakes from the 1930s

was it actually accepted? is it a reliable source? does this guy know anything about plants? who knows. with river cane we gotta take everything we can get. this is INVALUABLE info, I can't believe it took me this long to find it. this guy talked to people who were born in the 1850's about their memories of canebrakes. I doubt these personal testimonies are documented anywhere else.

and... it's devastating! even from the viewpoint of someone in the 1930's, there had been a systematic extermination of the canebrakes, where the impenetrable and acres-big bamboo forests of memory only remained in distantly rural areas. The author talks about dozens of specific sites in different US states that used to have extensive and huge canebrakes but the river cane was completely obliterated from them.

The oldest records consistently state that Arundinaria gigantea or Rivercane would reach 30-40 feet in height and 3-4 inches thick. Many different early colonial sources speak of river cane this size. At the time of the author, the cane he visited was mostly 15-20 feet tall or so. Nothing compared to the giant canebrakes of the past, he keeps reminding us. And nowadays—almost 100 years after the time of that writing!—it is very rare to find river cane even 10-12 feet tall, it is crammed into tiny little areas at the edges of roadsides, and hardly anybody even knows an American bamboo ever existed

It even mentioned the area where my Mamaw grew up, saying that the place was once covered in miles of canebrake! Mamaw says that she always remembered cane along the river sides, but when we visited there a couple years ago, I didn't see any cane at all

there's SO many good facts and testimonies about river cane in there but i'm just shaken cause from the authors perspective, the river cane had been devastated to a small remnant of what it once was, but nowadays, it is devastated to a small remnant of what THAT was.

Some researchers are kicking around a theory that passenger pigeons and Carolina parakeets were dependent upon river cane, and that's why they went extinct. One guy i've talked to believes passenger pigeons could have been responsible for distributing the seeds (we still don't really know how river cane seeds distribute)

Apparently back when canebrakes were so common that there was cane producing seeds all the time (an incredibly rare occurrence now) they provided an incredibly valuable food resource for wild animals. In fact some of the colonial writings quoted say that once the canebrakes died off in a certain area, the wild game would disappear!

I'm starting to believe in the "canebrakes + passenger pigeons/Carolina parakeets" theory. It makes sense that practically eradicating a whole biome/habitat would cause something to go extinct, and the timeline and habitat associations are right.

I will NEVER be capable of shutting up about the canebrakes. Imagine if we did such a good job at exterminating the bison that today, almost no one in the USA even knew what a bison was.

[goldfades]

TIGHTLING ─── LUKE HUGHES

request: "luke hughes + reader doing tiktok couple trends??"

here is the trend i was doing!

The phone props precariously against a stack of books on the coffee table, its tiny lens trained on you and Luke as he lounges on the couch beside you. His long legs are sprawled out, a stark contrast to your cross-legged position, and he looks completely at ease, a faded Michigan sweatshirt hanging loosely on his broad frame.

It was your idea—of course it was—to rope him into yet another TikTok trend. And honestly, it didn’t take much convincing. Luke, for all his teasing about how “obsessed” you are with the app, has never been one to back down from your antics. You swear he secretly loves these little moments where the two of you can just be goofy together.

“Okay, so here’s the deal,” you start, holding your phone up to demonstrate the angle and framing, even though he’s barely paying attention. His eyes flick lazily from your face to the camera. “I’m gonna ask you a bunch of questions, and they’re things only girls would know—like, makeup stuff, skincare stuff. You just have to guess what they mean.”

Luke blinks at you, visibly unimpressed. “That’s it? I just guess?”

“Yes.” You grin, wide and mischievous, and he narrows his eyes at you suspiciously.

“Why do I feel like this is just a setup to make me look stupid?”

“It's not, I promise.” You say, patting his knee in mock reassurance.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes, but the corners of his mouth tug upward into the faintest smile. You’ve won, and he knows it. “Fine. But you owe me for this.”

“Uh-huh,” you deadpan, grabbing the remote and shoving it out of the frame. “And what exactly do I owe you for a few minutes of your time?”

He tilts his head, pretending to think. “I don’t know. Maybe you stop stealing my clothes every time you come over?”

“That’s a deal I’ll never make,” you quip, setting the phone back on its makeshift tripod. “Okay, ready?”

Luke leans forward slightly, brushing his hair out of his face as he flashes you a lopsided grin. “Hit me with it.”

And just like that, you hit record.

You settle back into the couch, phone recording, and glance at Luke, who’s already sitting straighter, his focus zeroed in like this is some kind of high-stakes playoff. The intensity is so out of place that it’s almost impossible not to laugh, but you manage to keep a straight face. Barely.

“Alright,” you say, scrolling through your mental list of girl-specific words. “First question: What does waterline mean?”

Luke blinks. “Waterline?” His brows furrow, and he leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees like he’s trying to think through an SAT question. “Like... the edge of a body of water? Or where water stops?”

You gasp dramatically, clapping your hands together. “Oh my God, yes! That’s exactly it. How did you know?”

His face lights up, the corners of his mouth quirking into a self-satisfied grin. “Seriously? I mean, it makes sense, right?”

“Totally,” you nod fervently, resisting the urge to crack up. “You’re so smart.”

He smirks, leaning back against the couch. “Told you. What’s next?”

You bite your lip, stifling a laugh, and move on. “Okay, next question. What’s a cuticle pusher?”

Luke’s face scrunches up, his confusion written all over it. “A... what?”

“Cuticle pusher,” you repeat innocently, as though this is a perfectly normal thing for him to know.

He hesitates, narrowing his eyes at you. “Uh... is it like... something you use to push dirt out from under your nails?”

You gasp again, clutching your chest like you’re shocked by his brilliance. “Yes! Oh my God, Luke, how do you know these things?”

He lets out a laugh, visibly proud of himself. “I don’t know! It just made sense!”

“Wow,” you say, shaking your head like you’re genuinely impressed. “You’re two for two.”

“Duh,” he quips, leaning forward again, his confidence swelling. “Keep going. I’m on a roll.”

You suppress another laugh and press on. “Okay, what about... baking?”

“Baking?” he repeats, frowning. “Like... cooking?”

You shake your head quickly. “Not that kind of baking. It’s a makeup thing.”

He sits back, tapping his fingers against his leg as he thinks. “Makeup... baking... Does it have something to do with heat? Like, you heat the makeup onto your face or something?”

It takes every ounce of willpower not to break character. “Oh my God, yes! Exactly! You bake it onto your face to, like, set it. You’re literally on fire, Luke. I can’t believe this.”

He laughs again, a full, genuine laugh this time, his cheeks a little pink. “I’m just that good.”

“You really are,” you say with mock awe. “Okay, okay, one more for now. What’s a winged liner?”

Luke doesn’t even pause to think this time. “Easy. It’s eyeliner, but it’s, like... shaped like wings.”

You clap your hands together, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes! Oh my God, Luke! You’re literally unstoppable!”

“I know, right?” He beams, clearly riding the high of getting “everything” right. “See? I told you I’d win.”

You bite back your laughter, nodding along like you’re his number-one fan. “You’re seriously the best at this. I’ve never seen anyone crush these questions like you.”

Luke leans back, folding his arms across his chest, looking far too pleased with himself. “Alright, what’s the next round? I’m ready.”

You can’t hold it in anymore and burst into laughter, but he just looks at you, confused but still grinning. “What? Why are you laughing? I’m killing it!”

And the best part? He truly believes it.

You shake your head, waving your hand as if to dismiss your laughter. “Nothing, nothing! You’re just—you’re killing it, Luke. Like, I think you might know more about this stuff than I do.”

He grins, sitting up straighter. “I mean, you said it was trivia. I’m just good at picking stuff up.”

“Right, right,” you say, wiping an imaginary tear from your eye as you compose yourself. “Okay, next question. What’s... double cleansing?”

Luke pauses, his competitive streak kicking back in as he furrows his brow in concentration. “Double cleansing... like, washing your face twice? First to get the dirt off and then... to, I don’t know, make it extra clean?”

You gasp again, clutching his arm this time. “Yes! Oh my God, that’s exactly it. How do you keep doing this?”

He looks so smug now, like he just nailed a game-winning goal. “It just makes sense, you know? Two steps—one for the surface, one for deep cleaning. I’m basically an expert.”

You nod vigorously, stifling another laugh. “Seriously. Like, you should teach a class or something.”

“Maybe I will,” he says with a smirk. “Alright, next one. Hit me.”

You glance at your mental list again, biting your lip to keep from cracking up. “Alright. What’s a dupe?”

Luke tilts his head, confused but determined. “A dupe... like... a duplicate? Something that looks like something else?”

You slap your hand over your mouth, pretending to be floored. “Yes! Oh my God, Luke, you’re literally on fire. It’s like a cheaper version of something expensive. How are you so good at this?”

He’s grinning so wide now, his cheeks pink with pride. “I don’t know. I guess I just have a natural instinct for this stuff.”

“Clearly,” you say, barely holding it together. “Okay, okay, next one. What’s a beauty blender?”

“A beauty blender?” He pauses, his competitive edge shining through as he carefully thinks it over. “Uh... like... a machine that mixes stuff? Like makeup or foundation or something?”

You clasp your hands dramatically, your jaw dropping. “Yes! Oh my God, Luke, are you kidding me? How do you know this?”

He throws his hands up like it’s no big deal, even though he’s clearly eating up the praise. “What can I say? I’m just built different.”

You double over with laughter, but quickly try to disguise it as a cough when he narrows his eyes. “I’m serious! You’re like... a prodigy.”

“I know,” he says, fully leaning into the role now. “Alright, what’s next? Let’s keep going.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, wondering how far you can push this before he catches on. “Okay, this one’s tricky,” you warn, straightening up. “What’s... tightlining?”

He blinks at you, a little wary but still confident. “Tightlining? Uh... when you line something up really close together? Like... packing it in tight?”

You gasp again, throwing your head back. “Yes! Oh my God, Luke! It’s when you line your eyes super close to your lashes! You’re incredible!”

His grin is so wide now, he looks like a kid who just found out he’s getting a puppy for Christmas. “I mean, it’s just logical, right? Tightlining. Tight lines. Easy.”

“Easy for you,” you say, shaking your head in mock amazement. “You’re like a makeup genius.”

“I should probably put that on my résumé,” he jokes, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Luke Hughes: NHL defenseman, trivia champion, and makeup expert.”

You can’t help but laugh again, your chest aching from holding it in for so long. But he still doesn’t catch on—he’s far too busy basking in the glory of his “success.”

“Alright,” you say, wiping a pretend tear from your eye. “One last question, and this one’s a doozy. What’s a halo eye?”

Luke’s face scrunches up in confusion, but he’s clearly not backing down. “Halo eye... uh... is it like... when your eyes look shiny? Like they’re glowing or something?”

You clasp your chest, pretending to be in awe. “Yes! That’s exactly it! How did you know?”

He throws his hands in the air, grinning ear to ear. “I mean, it’s in the name. Halo. Glow. It’s not that hard.”

You’re practically wheezing at this point, barely able to hold yourself together. But Luke? He’s still riding that high, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s been getting it hilariously wrong the entire time.

── COMMENTS

melia 🤍 "halo eye… uh… when your eyes look shiny?" IM SCREAMING ♡ 18k

abby grace 🌸 the gasp after every answer has me CRYING 💀 ♡ 14.5k

lily 🦋 the fact that he’s dead serious makes this even better ♡ 6.3k

viv 🪩 “double cleansing… to make it extra clean?” i can’t breathe 😭 ♡ 292

nj devils enthusiast “baking… does it have something to do with heat?” AND YOU SAID YES 💀💀 ♡ 500

sarah rose ☁️ his face when you said he got it right 😭😭😭 pure joy ♡ 4.2k

ellie ✨ he’s never gonna trust you again when he finds out 😭 ♡ 1.8k

emma 🤍 “tightlining… tight lines… easy” LUKE WHAT ♡ 239

sophia 💕 he’s gonna tell people he’s a skincare guru after this 😭 ♡ 2k

madeline you could’ve asked him anything and he’d still be so proud of himself lmaoo ♡ 103

noah’s gf how is he so wrong yet so sure every time 💀 ♡ 89

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[hannieehaee]

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSYgDcHDA/

Hellooo,I was wondering what do you think SVTs response would be to this question from their S/O😅

Like who in your opinion would say that boobs are perfectly fine and who would dare to ask why they are small😂

reacting to why your boobs are small(?)

content: boobs, established relationship, teasing, banter, etc.

wc: 554

a/n: i had no idea how to title this reaction lol but here's the tiktok in case anyone wants context (but im pretty sure its deleted now 😭)

masterlist

seungcheol -

confused and lowkey annoyed bc one side of him just doesnt get what you're saying and the other doesn't understand how your size could possibly be used as some sort of critique when he's spent countless nights enjoying them. also maybe a little bothered by the implication that someone may have asked about your boobs.

jeonghan -

you can never catch him off guard. he'd start by shrugging just to get a reaction out of you and proceed to compliment them bc being real .. he's a huge fan of your boobs.

joshua -

immediately clocks it as a tiktok thing and pretends he doesnt know what you mean just to bug you. will say something like 'yeah, they're pretty small, did you never notice before?' only to get smacked at by you. will laugh and apologize, telling you that ofc he doesn't care about the size! he's a man, he just likes your boobs!!

jun -

as the biggest connoisseur of your boobs, he's very well aware of their size and shape. any question as to their size would be met with a curious tilt of his head and maybe even a side eye.

soonyoung -

incredibly confused. would need a step to step explanation as to what you mean like what do you mean?? theyre perfectly sized. would even inadvertently lift up his hands and make a cupping motion to show you how perfectly sized they are only to be stopped by u bc ur in public!!

wonwoo -

a little afraid he might give you the wrong answer so he stays quiet as he thinks about it. ends up deciding on a 'theyre pretty,' to express his opinion on the matter.

jihoon -

also super confused. thinks this is some sort of bf test so he kinda doesnt wanna entertain it bc thats kind of silly ... but he also really likes ur boobs and missed no chance to compliment them (even though he gets red as fuck when he does).

seokmin -

pouts and almost whines at you bc what do you mean??? small??? theyre perfectly sized for him!! he'd react like this to any sort of criticism you had of yourself but your boobs were just a personal subject for him like who and why and when and what do you mean??

mingyu -

he'd literally show you with his own two hands how theyre the perfect handful and roll his eyes at any implication they're not perfectly sized. he takes this kind of stuff very seriously!!

minghao -

rolls his eyes lightheartedly bc he thinks you're being silly. but still, he entertains you and even goes on a long rant about your body being perfect bc its yours.

seungkwan -

huffs, knowing its some sort of trick question, whining at you to stop trying to catch him off guard for tiktok. it'll just turn into a whining competition between the two of you lol.

vernon -

doesn't really understand the question but just assumes its a girl thing and responds accordingly. tells you he has no complaints and is actually quite a big fan of them as they are.

chan -

very confused. literally disregards the question because he just doesnt understand. wont catch on to the joke, but his eyes will keep trailing between you and your boobs bc what do you mean why are they small? they're small? why?

[faylvrs]

but im not hurt, im tense ✿ bllk multi ’cause i’ll be fine without you babe.

﹒postscript : it’ll never work out. feat. ɞ‎ shidou, rin, sae, kaiser ʚ cw : fem reader, angst ( no comfort )

shidou looks at you with a pout on his face. it’s been millenials since he last saw you—( 2 weeks ). so when he finally found you wandering the local store in your area, he immediately grabbed your wrist.

“you blocked me.” his mouth curls downwards. “am i nothing to you?”

the mocking look on his face only makes your frustrations grow deeper. “yes, i did block you. and that too for a reason so let g—“

“no.” his grip on your hand tightens, as if he was scared to let go. “tell me baby, where did i go wrong?” his tone sounds almost pleading.

“where did you go wrong?” you stare at him in disbelief. “you almost punched my dad at family dinner, seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?” you snap at him.

“is that what you’re mad about?” shidou scoffs. “he deserved it anyway, was sayin’ some stupid shit.” he dismisses your confrontation.

“ryusei.” your hand finally breaks free from his grip, pushing him away. “this is why we broke up.” you glare at him before hurriedly exiting the store.

shidou clenches his fists, knuckles turning white as he looks down at the floor. he felt his blood boiling, like he was going to burst in an explosion.

it’s only that, he doesn’t like this explosion.

rin’s resolve is crumbling down second by second as he watches your smile break down into a look of confusion and hurt. you’re interfering with his goals? what is he talking about?

“what are you talking about?” you hold onto his hand, as if clutching a thread thats about to break. “i’ve been there for you since we were kids and supported your dream—what’s so annoying about that?” the tention in your words are clear.

“im going to become the world’s best striker.” rin grits his teeth. “and you keep getting in the fucking way.” his words are cold, hitting you like an iceberg.

you do get in his way- in every way possible. he wants to defeat itoshi sae, and yet, every goal he scores seems to be dedicated to you. you’re slowly deprieving his heart of all the hatred and god, he hates it.

he’s made up his mind, he wants to defeat itoshi sae. but with you, the only mental image in his mind is nii-chan, not itoshi sae.

he doesn’t want to destroy his older brother, he wants to destroy itoshi sae.

his heart clenches at the sorrowful look on your face. “are you serious? im getting in the way?” you look like your world has just been broken into a million pieces—it’s so sudden, you almost don’t know how to react.

“you’re lukewarm.” rin stares daggers into you. “just forget about us, you knew we were never meant to be.”

maybe rin imagined a future with you,

but all you are now is a bittersweet childhood sweetheart.

sae doesn’t have time for you.

or thats what he likes telling himself, since he always finds himself cancelling interviews or cutting practice short to come see you.

you mess with his brain—in a good and bad way.

but he know’s you deserve better, better than someone like him. you deserve someone who can be there for you, communicate with you properly, give you the affection you deserve.

but he can’t.

it’s been clear he’s never made you a priority in his life, he know’s you’re getting tired of him canceling dates and replying to your messages every few hours.

he’s just finished practice, taking a long sip from his water bottle as he opens his phone. a message from you pops up.

im breaking up with you. it’s not working out, im sorry.

sae’s expression is neutral, but the way he’s squeezing the life out of the plastic bottle says otherwise, squeezing out the last bit of water as it falls to the ground.

you have all the good reason to break up with him, but something in him wants to plead, to beg, that he’ll be better, to give him one last chance.

sorry for not making time for you. good luck.

”you’re not enough.” kaiser snaps at you, a look of fury in his eyes.

you had arguments with him often. you were tired of him constantly pushing you away whenever you’d try to show him an ounce of affection—simple things would turn into harsh words exchanged between eachother.

“do you not see how much i do for you?” you snap back. “and you’re saying im not enough? when i have to go days without contact because you don’t even bother to call?” you raise your voice at him, making him flinch.

the truth is, you’ve always been enough.

but he’s not enough for you. that’s why he’s building these barriers around himself to hide away—he doesn’t deserve you, nor your touch. you’re like an angel who descended from the gates of heaven, and he’s a lowly devil.

he’s afraid his scars will brush on you, which is why he never gives you the chance to heal them. instead pushing you further and further away.

”schatz.” his eyes waver at the hurt visible in your eyes, and the nickname doesn’t make it any better.

he can’t ask for your forgiveness, he’s not worthy of it.

he can only watch you walk out of his life, an angel deprieved of her feathers.

[turquoizxe]

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐤𝐤𝐨

Ekko x Fem!Reader

content ― drabble/hc; fluff, mentions of Scar, reader has tattoos

author's note ― I love Ekko, that is all, moving forward, also I think I'm starting to like making drabbles/headcanons; I be locked in like a mf, and thank you for all the love on my previous drabble of Ekko!

wc ― 0.725k

Ekko's exterior was a tough shell to crack

But once you broke through it, there was no going back

He was closed off, for many good reasons, letting the walls he built come crashing down when with you was one of the hardest things he's ever done

It took what felt like eons to build this trust, but he wasn't sure if seeing a future with anyone was possible

He didn't want to get his hopes up

He had admired your patience and drive, hence why he adores you deeply

Dating Ekko felt like a dream, he felt like an entirely different person when his guard was down

While that's expected, you just couldn't believe that this is the same man running a Rebellion

And you wouldn't if you hadn't known him as long as you did

You had worked hard to earn his affection, just as he did to earn yours

What he took to get you, he used to keep you

The small trinkets he'd built, especially when he would get ready for missions, and he wasn't sure if he'd be back the same day

The community he had built had also learned to trust you, he involved you constantly in the development of the community

You were beyond terrified of the ride he always stood on

When your days would require less labor, you often spent your leisure trying to ride it

You thought Ekko wouldn't know, but he secretly likes to watch you practice, holding in his laughs whenever you busted your ass

What really surprised him is how good your combat is

You often avoided confrontation and physical altercations, as you never thought it was necessary to open a can of whoop-ass if it could just be solved with a conversation

But if anyone were to swing at you, you sure do hit back..hard

It flusters him how well your form is, the way your muscles flex when you practice with him. You often took that to your advantage when sparring. You knew for sure you had him where you wanted if you just wore a tank top, showing your tattoos

He stutters when he sees your tattoos, like a lot

It actually embarrasses him, and you can tell

So you often wear clothes that cover them so he can focus lol

He also loves it when you give him scalp massages. You learned how to retwist his locs, and he didn't go to anyone else anymore after you perfected it

He still hasn't told you who the hell his barber is, he'll come back to your shared home with a fresh cut, and you go absolutely feral

He loves it and makes it known, constantly teasing you when you can't look him straight in the face

But he better hope he doesn't get a lineup when you're ovulating because his ass is yours for sure

He's not really a man for public displays of affection, as he often reserves it in the comfort of which others cannot see

If he ever does it in front of his crew, he's usually needy, but he usually reserves that for your eyes and ears only

Constant moaning and groaning if he would steal a kiss from you while you're working, or a gag whenever you held hands in front of them

It's all in good fun, I swear

Scar teased you about it the most, as he was Ekko's right-hand

He knew how Ekko felt about you before he did

And when Ekko didn't pry into your love life, Scar did it for him

Finding out what you liked, as Ekko never really thought about how to serenade you

He was always caught up in his work, he hadn't put any thought into it until he he did what he knew best and started making small trinkets for you

After you started dating, he didn't need to think about it as hard

It all started to feel natural to you. Falling in love with you was easy, loving you on purpose was the real challenge

Every thought, action, and consideration, it was intending to catch you

Lucky for him, the efforts were successful

He really didn't think in a million years he'd land such a wonderful person as you, but I assure you he thanks the gods every day for your love

― turquoizxe

[therealbeachfox]

"Why do we make laser grids like these?" came the chirp from across the table.

"What do you mean?" Otto responded without looking up.

"I mean, instead of a messy random arrangement of lasers that a nimble intruder might be able to jump through, why not a simple grid wall with no gaps large enough to allow a person to pass?"

Otto sighed heavily and looked up from the blueprints he'd been amending and reworking to focus on his nephew. One of his nephews. One of his multitude of nephews because none of his siblings understood the concept of wrapping it up. He was at Mykola's place, so probably one of his. Too young to be Aiden, too old to be Eric. A, B, C... Connor? Conway? Conrad? One of those. At that extra annoying age where they're too curious for their own good, and have started to believe they actually know something, so get real argumentative about it when you prove they don't.

There's a reason why Otto didn't have kids. Or deal with kids. And tried to talk the Boss out of putting kids into his deathtraps. Fucking kids. Ugh.

"Because if we did that, it'd be impossible to get through." he said, hoping it'd satisfy the kid.

"But isn't that what you're trying to do?" Mykola's boy had his head twisted around to try and look at the blueprints from his uncle's perspective and was tracing out the twisting pathways with his eyes. "This whole thing is a giant 'You Can't Get In Here' tunnel. I don't understand why you're leaving holes in the security."

Well, the kid had actually asked, instead of just flat out stating that his way would be better. Otto grit his teeth and settled himself back for a proper lecture. "You're thinking too mundanely, kid." The boy looked up curiously and brushed a tangle of near-black hair out of his eyes. Slightly mollified, Otto continued. "This isn't like designing security for a bank or vault or something. This is something for my Boss. So we're already not designing like we would for the public sector, right?"

"Yeah? Yeah." Con-whatever agreed, though still looking just as confused.

"So, our issue is, whoever comes looking for whatever it is that the Boss is gonna put at the end of this is already going to be uniquely skilled and driven. Not just your average jewelry robbers or beat cops, right?"

"Right, yeah, you're going to be dealing with capes or cowls and stuff, sure. But wouldn't that mean you'd want it all extra locked down?" The kid was now looking directly at him. But with the intense look of someone who didn't understand but wanted to. It was by far more annoying than if the kid had just been flat-out disparaging of the whole process. Now Otto couldn't just tell him to shove off without feeling bad about it. Ugh.

"Well, here's the thing. If this was something the Boss really wanted to keep away from people, he'd have it put in some indistinguishable bank vault lock-box by a patsy that one of us underlings had hired through a third party, leaving two whole layers unaware of who even wanted the thing in there, and at least three whole layers who have no idea what the object even is besides. But he's not doing that, he's putting it at the end of a long tunnel of traps, alarms, and obstacles. Which means, what he wants is for whoever's coming after him to go through the whole thing. Which means it's gotta be at least theoretically possible to get through the whole thing. If you were a cowl and you came across a perfect laser grid that there was no way to squirm your way through and no way to work around, what would you do?"

Mykola's kid frowned down at the blueprints, eyebrows furrowed in tweenage concentration. "Start cutting through the walls, I guess. Either to find a way to cut the power, or to bypass the tunnel all toget-OH! Ooooooh, okay! I see, I see!" Otto grabbed the edge of the table to steady it as the kid started bouncing a little in his seat. "If you make it impossible, the cowls will start thinking outside the box and start looking for ways to end-run around the whole thing. If you make it difficult, but still possible, they're going to be too busy focusing on how to do the almost impossible thing so they're still playing by your Boss' rules instead of making up their own!"

Otto grunted and bit back the hint of a smile that wanted to cross his lips. Last thing he wanted to do was encourage the brat; then he'd be stuck answering questions all day. "Now you've got it. Make it hard enough that they waste as much time getting through it as possible without breaking out their bat-themed metal cutters or retreating and finding another way to come in altogether. Same reason why museums do it this way. Otherwise, the only way to get at shit would be to blow a hole in the floor, and that'd damage way more artifacts than whatever the thief was targeting originally."

"Okay, I think I totally get it. Is that why the HVAC ducts are big enough for sidekicks to get through? In case they can't work stuff out?"

Otto blinked and scowled back down at the blueprints to figure out what the kid was talking about, "No? No! I've got them as small as they can get without leaving the air rank, and we've got mesh grids every five feet just in case they try anyway."

The kid pointed down at one point in the blueprints and traced out a line that went way from one-third of the way through the hallway to right near the end, "Not on this one. And it's got this other branch that leads out to the bathrooms in the laundry mat you're using as a front, even!"

Otto squinted down at what the kid was pointing out. It was a second branch of the air circulation network, focused mainly on the above ground business, but with a few pipes down below ground as federally mandated backups to the system he'd been focusing on locking down. "No. That's not for the sidekicks." He growled and grabbed for an eraser and pencil and got to work grinding out alterations.

"Huh. So what about the-" the kid started.

"One thing at a time. Let me get this fixed, then you can ask the next one, okay?"

"Yeah, sure, okay!" The kid shrugged and grabbed up one of Otto's old notebooks that had the first iteration of designs for the Boss' main vault and started reading while kicking his legs.

Otto just ground his teeth and focused on his work. Only thing worse than a kid was a precociously bright kid with an honest interest in your work. Worse thing in the goddamn world.

He should message Mykola and let him know he needed to get one of his other kids to bring up snacks for the brat. He was at that age where he was going to get hungry long before Otto was done.

"Why do we make laser grids like these?" "What do you mean?" "I mean instead of a messy random arrangement of lasers that a nimble intruder might be able to jump through, why not a simple grid wall with no gaps large enough to allow a person to pass through?"

[vaya-is-dead]

Welcome to hour one of my delusional city

SO ABOUT JINX.... we have plenty to discuss. :))

*act three arcane spoilers under the cut don't read if you haven't watched it especially the last episode!!*

I have a theory.

Now many of you will point at me and call me delusional but I'm sorry. I think I might be right on this one for a change. (or at least it might be implied.)

OK, if you watch the final episode, you know that jinx made the sacrifice taking Warwick with her while Vi screams for her. This scene absolutely broke my heart and for about a good 15 minutes I thought she was dead.

Until I went back and watched the last couple of scenes.

Something that I found interesting is that Caitlyn was looking at the blueprint of the vent system, more specifically where Jinx made her ultimate sacrifice. We all know that arcane is not a show that would just throw in details all without reason. Everything has a point everything is calculated to either imply something or show something.

Why would Caitlyn be looking at the blueprint and why would the show creators specifically zoom in on certain airways? Well, of course, then none other to imply that Jinx could've escaped through one of these, therefore possibly surviving.

Now with that alone, it probably doesn't mean anything. It is nothing but a skeleton of what possibly could be, it needs flesh and muscle for it to actually be a Working theory.

But then, as I watched the final scene before the credits, tell me why an airship from Piltover airship very similar to the ones that we saw in episode one where powder said that she would be flying one of those one day. Why was it flying away into the distant sky, then followed by the classic Jinx glitches with the words the end?

Tell me why a show that is so focused on each, and every small detail, from micro expression to touches that linger just a second too long for it to be nothing, Even the drawings and graffiti around Zaun. why would a show so focused on those types of details do something like that if Jinx was not alive? It does not make any sense. It would not make any sense for the show.

Need more proof?

if you pay attention when Caitlyn and Vi are talking, specifically towards the end where Vi leans into Caitlyn, the expression on her face is not one of relief, but rather one of knowing something. She was the one looking at the blueprint, and she was the one who noticed the potential escape route that jinx would know better than anyone because it wasn't her sort of Home in the vent system? How could she not know how to escape?

it's also very satisfactory to her character arc, it was only in season two where we started to see her perception of death start to shift, it was only when Isha came into her life that she really started to understand her own mortality and not completely disregard her life like she used. the prison scene with Vi, where she's sort of regresses back to the mentality of everyone around me will get hurt because of me. while in act three she did begin to disregard her life again, I would like to think that her talk with Ekko might've snapped her back into place. So instead of losing jinx's character development in its entirety, she continues on the same path where she was while still keeping her goal of letting VI be happy the same.

Plus the pink streak coming up the side of the hex gate tower, it's similar to the way that Jinx charges at Vi in their fighting scene.

Now, this is the part where you go into the comments and call me delusional and make fun of my theory but thank you for comming to my Ted's talk

[lafaiette]

So, the localization file of Veilguard was found thanks to datamining, and it contains Some Stuff about Solas, Solavellan, and some cut ending stuff.

No idea if these lines were cut because of budget/resource reasons, if they are old scraps left of Joplin or if the writers simply changed their minds. Please keep in mind they are in jumbled order/there are different responses, probably due to different choices and the dialogue wheel.

Under the cut because of spoilers.

Solas and Fen'Harel

"I must hold back the blight! My wolf will distract Elgar'nan while you take the dragon!" "Did I see that right? The Dread Wolf is a separate spirit from Solas?" "Nice. Why does he get to be part wolf?" "Yeah. Seems like Fen'Harel is a merging of the two."

It seems like Solas and his wolf self are two separate spirits - perhaps similar to Falon'Din and Dirthamen, who are confirmed to be the same spirit who split into two different aspects.

Final dialogue with Solas (Solavellan edition)

"The blight is its prison. The world is safe." "Until the Veil collapses, and demons kill thousands of people." "If there were another way…" "There [i]is[/i]. Let the Veil stay in place." "The elven people must be restored. They do not deserve what was done to them." "Neither did the Titans." "Neither did Mythal. Either time." "Those are my mistakes. Only I can correct them." "I'm here to help you." "You think you have to do this alone. But you don't." "Every time, it has come down to my choices." "Are you a god?" "I am the furthest thing from it." "Then stop acting like one. Let someone else help you." "Do the right thing." "You want to be a hero? Then save the world. Right now." "The restoration of the world as it was meant to be…" "That's not saving the world, that's saving your pride." "Is that why you think I am doing this?" "I think you're doing this because you think that you have to. But you don't." "You have to forgive yourself." "You know how I got out of the Prison of Regrets? I let it go." "Varric's death was never truly your fault." "And you didn't cause every problem. You tried to fix them." "And every time I failed." "The world's still here. You got some of it right." "I cannot. To stop now would dishonor those I've wronged to come this far." "Even if those you wronged asked you to stop?" "Vhenan. And… Morrigan?" "One appellation among the many I wear, Dread Wolf." "I have been advisor to Orlais, Witch of the Wilds, daughter of Flemeth… and once, long ago, an old friend." "Mythal…" "You never would have left the Fade and taken on that humble form had I not been the one who first convinced you." "The things that I have done…" "Are not for you alone to bear, my friend. The many wrongs we did, we did together." "It is not too late to stop this. Banal nadas. Ar lath ma, vhenan." "My life force now sustains the Veil. With every breath I take, I will protect the innocent from my past failures. " "The Titans' dreams are mad from their imprisonment. I cannot kill the blight, but I can help to soothe its anger." "What I've done, I will atone for." ""But you do not have to go alone." "Thanks to you, I can see the way."

Rook and Solas' final confrontation if Rook tries to convince him to stop was apparently supposed to be much longer, with Solas mentioning the elven people and the Titans, Varric's death, and Rook acknowledging he always did try to save the world.

It seems there was also one more line Solas would say to Lavellan after her "But you do not have to go alone." -> "Thanks to you, I can see the way."

The Inquisitor's happily ever after

"So you have to stop Solas, but not in a way that prevents him from stopping the blight." "Let Solas put the blight into its nice new prison, then we'll put him in there with it." "So with Solas and the elven gods out of the picture, where does that leave us?" "Nothing. He didn't deserve his little happily ever after." "If there's anyone who can reason with the blight, it's him." "The Inquisitor believed in him. [i]She [/i]deserved her happily ever after, even if that's helping Solas fix his mistakes." "And so the Dread Wolf shall spend eternity in the knowledge that he stood at the precipice of disaster and was saved by a mortal's wisdom." "Then why maneuver matters so as to deliver it to him?" "Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain were villains trying to conquer and blight the world." "Solas did terrible things, but he was trying to help. I can understand that." "He was wrong, not evil." "She waited many years for him. You are kind indeed to ensure those years were not in vain." "I am surprised less that he would seize upon such a chance for redemption, and more that you would offer it. " "The Inquisitor earned it." "He's working off his debt. After all, I don't think there's anyone else alive with the power and perspective to try to heal the blight." "Few would react with such compassion to the Dread Wolf's trickery. What merits him a fate fairer than Elgar'nan or Ghilan'nain?" "True. Even had I Mythal's full power, she and I often struggled to mend feelings we might have broken." "'Twould not be the first time he accomplished something Mythal herself thought impossible." "And so the Dread Wolf is stopped by, of all things, love." "Surprised?" "He's fixing his mess."

Lines for the different ways Rook can handle Solas' fate. Rook and Morrigan discuss Lavellan and Solas' chance at happiness, with Rook deciding to help them reunite despite Solas' trickery; Rook deciding to lock Solas away with the Blight; probably a line referencing a friend Inquisitor or Rook themselves ("Solas saved by a mortal's wisdom") and one referencing Lavellan ("Solas saved by love").

Epilogue

"It may mean nothing. Or everything. What matters is that the Solas is content, and we need no longer fear him tearing down the Veil." "So, Rook, what's the plan?" "[i](Sighs)[/i] Damn it." "Thank you." "Then it sounds like you have work to do. I'll leave you to it." "Good luck, Rook. Enjoy the adventures to come. " "I'm sorry, vhenan. If there had been another way..." "And now he'll spend who knows how long trying to heal the blight? What does that even mean?" "I can think of few things he'd have hated more." "He made a cage with bars made out of his worst weaknesses. He's not getting out on his own." "And we're certain there's no way for him to escape?" "Trapped forever in a prison with the blight." "Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain are also both dead. 'Tis no great loss there, the blighted fools." "So, Rook: How does it feel to have saved the world?" "Honestly, I have no idea." "Don't be so shy with your feelings, Morrigan." "We were all young once, were we not? 'Tis from such humble seeds that great things are grown." "Tell that to Mythal." "When the next aspiring deity lays claim to our world, you are the woman who shall remind them that even gods can die." "You are really bad at inspiring speeches." "Despite these rough edges, you forged a team that saved all of Thedas. Precious few can claim that." "I notice you left out one elven god—the only one still here in any capacity." "When the next aspiring deity lays claim to our world, you are the one who shall remind them that even gods can die." "You're leaving me to handle this?" "Were Mythal younger, she might have wished to rule again. Were I younger, I might have agreed with her." "Hey, the world is still here and isn't blighted or covered with demons. I think we did okay." "Says the woman carrying the god who made most of the mess I had to clean up." "And prepare yourself for whatever storm next clouds our skies." "I did save the world." "Who else? Make no mistake, you could do with a finer touch in matters of politics. " "You're not very good at this." "Even with Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain dead, the Venatori remain a threat, as do the Antaam and darkspawn. "

It seems there was supposed to be an additional scene after the ending, with Rook and Morrigan discussing the future. The dialogue would change depending on Solas' fate/Rook's choice about him.

That "Solas is content, and we need no longer fear him tearing down the Veil." probably refers to the ending with Lavellan, while it's not clear if that "I'm sorry, vhenan. If there had been another way..." is supposed to be there (maybe Solas apologizing again for bringing her to what he believes will be a terrible place?) or if it's referring to another scene.

The lines about him being stuck in a prison made out of his worst weaknesses, being unable to get out on his own, and spending a very long time trying to heal the Blight, something he hates, all sound like lines that would fit his bad endings.

One last mission

"Rook gives the team their seventh pep talk after the Finale." "We're sticking together. The gods might be dead, but there's more to do in this world." "We'll find Harding or Davrin. Somehow." "The eighth pep comes after nearly all content has been completed." "Weird shit is going on. What are the clues we have? The Executor, the Devouring Storm - what does it mean?" "We don't actually know. But it sounds bad. So we need each other more than ever." "On return to Rivain Island, defeat the Executor and collect the Memento for Davrin/Harding"

There is a cut scene + mission with Rook talking to their team after the ending and going to Rivain for one last mission. It's pretty much confirmed the cutscene was supposed to take place in the Lighthouse, there are old files and flags for it. If you pay attention after the ending sequence, you will see your Rook appear in the Lighthouse for a millisecond, the only trace left of that scene.

[emotionoitme]

i didn't know (2)

i didn't know - skinshape

this is the second post for this chapter because of tumblr's block limit. read the first one here

“this one?” she holds up a silky black fabric, “or…this one?” it looks the same, but red. 

he stares at the options blankly for a second.

“i, uh…the red one?” he answers cluelessly. either way he’s gonna wanna rip it off of her the second she puts it on. 

she gives him a look to elaborate. 

“i don’t know,” he sighs, “you could wear a garbage bag to dinner and look good.”

“oh, that would be cute,” she rolls her eyes, setting the options back down on the bed. 

it was one of those rare days where carmen had taken off work to relax, sprawled out on her bed—shirtless with unruly curls. 

“try ‘em on for me,” he suggests, folding his arms behind his head. 

her eyes dart to the bulge of his biceps, his armpit hair, having absolutely no idea why the sight is so enticing.

“mkay,” she smiles, pulling the hem of her borrowed shirt up over her head, revealing nothing besides panties underneath. 

“fuck,” he groans, enunciating the word sharply, graciously taking in the sight in front of him. “come over here.”

this puts a grin on her face. no matter how many times she does it, he always has the same reaction. she begins to saunter over to his side of the bed, watching how he tilts his chin up like he’s expecting a kiss. 

“i could just wear this tonight,” she suggests, trailing her finger over his jaw. 

he gives a hum of approval. “except we wouldn’t leave the house,” caressing her hip gently. 

“we could have a night in,” she suggests. he shakes his head. 

“we always do. i wanna take you out.”

“yeah?” she leans in, placing a gentle kiss to his lips, “you gonna wine and dine me?” 

“mhm. give me a real kiss.” 

she giggles and leans back in again, giving him another soft, barely-there peck before pulling away again. he tightens his jaw and snaps the band of her panties, making her release a small yelp. 

“more,” he demands. 

“so needy,” she teases, tracing her finger over his lip, catching the bottom one and pushing it down to show his teeth. she loves using his own words against him. 

“fuck off,” he laughs, turning his head away. 

“i’ll give you a real one on our date.”

“i have to wait that long?” 

“mhm,” she picks up the black dress and walks in front of the mirror, holding it in front of her body, “you can work on your self restraint.”

“i have plenty of self restraint,” he argues, sitting up onto his forearms.

“yeah right,” she slips into the fabric and threads her arms through the straps. 

“oh, and you do? you came onto me within the first month of living here.”

“i would’ve done it earlier if you were home more often,” she admits unashamedly. “what do you think? cute?” turning so he could see the front of the dress. 

“you-,” he stops in his tracks, eyes flickering over the way the fabric hugs her figure, “i wouldn’t say cute.” hot is more fitting, “but yeah, i like it.” 

she rolls her eyes, and slips the straps back down her shoulders. 

“but y’know that means you have less self restraint than me, right?” he asks, revisiting the disagreement, “because i was gonna keep it…professional.” 

“professional, my ass. i saw the way you would look at me when i first moved in.” 

“wh-how would i look at you?” 

“how you’re looking at me right now.”

oh. his eyes snap back up to her face, having been caught red handed. it’s not his fault she looks good. and after all, he is just a man. 

she turns away from him and shimmies the dress down her hips. 

“okay. fine,” he concedes, craning his neck to watch her breasts in the mirror, “but i did restrain myself.” 

“please,” she scoffs, “i had you wrapped around my finger the second i got here.” she turns back to him, and watches his eyes flicker down her body, then back up. 

he takes a moment to respond, a look of contemplation on his face. she wasn’t wrong, at all. but he still felt the need to contest. 

“tell you what,” he sits up, “we can put it to the test.”

she gives him a questioning look, tilting her head to the side. 

“no touching. no kissing…first one to break loses.” he has a smug smirk on his face.

“you’re not funny,” she says, unamused.

“i’m being serious. you say i don’t have restraint, but i know you don’t.” 

“you’re gonna eat those words. i’m gonna kick your ass at this game,” she retorts. 

“yeah?”

“mhm. winner gets head.” 

“fine by me,” he nods. either way, he’ll win. 

“i’m still gonna hold your hand tonight, though.” she pouts.

“yeah. we’ll just keep it uh…PG.” 

she snorts out a laugh at this. “PG?” 

“mhm.” he nods. “family friendly.” 

“okay. well get out of my room then. cause i kind of wanna pounce on you.”

carmen lets out a soft laugh. this was going to be an easy game.

-

…or so he thought. 

up until the moment she came down the stairs in that fucking red dress. 

it hugs her curves like a glove, dawning dainty straps and a plunging neckline. his brain actually stutters for a moment watching her descend the stairs, just silently staring at her with eyes wide as saucers. 

a grin forms on the girl’s face at his stunned expression. she put the dress on expecting a reaction, but wasn’t expecting speechless. 

“jesus christ,” is the first thing that exits his mouth, and it comes out strained. 

“you like it?” she asks, giving a slow turn so he could admire it at every angle. 

“it’s-yeah…you look…amazing.” 

“bet you wanna touch, huh?” she teases with a grin on her face. 

“i’m-yeah. fuck yeah, i do.” he exhales, standing from the couch, walking closer to her. 

“well, you can,” she reaches forward to straighten out his suit jacket, “if you keep it PG.”

he lets out a small chuckle at this, placing a hand on her hip, stroking his thumb against her. he studies her face. the way she’s done her makeup is classy and light. she’s wearing a red lipstick that makes him wonder what it would look like smeared across her face. 

“what’s up with your tie?” she asks, breaking him out of his trance. she’s furrowing her brows at the knot. 

“oh, i, uh…i can’t really tie one,” he admits bashfully. “i’ll do it for you,” she gives him a soft smile and reaches to undo the knot. 

the way her fingers brush against his neck leaves his skin feeling hot. 

like most things between them recently, it feels very domestic, having her tie his tie. he can’t stop staring at her as she does it, either, transfixed with the way she’s all dolled up for him. 

“there,” she loops the knot, and pushes it up to tighten, “very handsome.” her hand comes to the side of his face, and she strokes her thumb over his jaw. the way their eyes lock feel more intimate than carmen expects, feeling as if he’s baring his soul under her gaze. he wants to kiss her so bad, inwardly cursing his juvenile challenge he posed hours ago. cursing the fantasies that flood his mind of keeping her at home—providing for her, having her tie his ties and pack his lunches and have his babies. cursing the cruel way in which the world seems to rip away all that brings him joy. 

“you, uh…ready to go?” he clears his throat, pulling away from her, turning his head to hide a pained expression. 

“yeah. let me just grab my wallet.”

“leave it,” he commands, “you won’t need it.” 

a slight look of surprise forms on her face, morphing into a smile as the implication seeps in. 

“just wait for a second,” she turns to walk to the stairs, “it’s on my nightstand.” 

carmen grabs her wrist with a “hey,” stopping the girl in her tracks. 

“what did i just say?” he chides lowly. “leave it. let’s go.”

she turns to face him, taking in his serious expression. stern and handsome—it makes her want to push. but she figures she can save it for later, after she wins. 

“yes sir,” she responds, gazing up at him endearingly. 

he’s almost a little surprised at her obedience. feels himself puff up a little at the name. 

without another word, he opens the door and offers his arm. she takes it happily. 

-

the entire date ends up being a lot fancier than she ever would have expected. 

carmen had explained to her, as they rode in the back of the private car he had ordered, that he wanted to make tonight really special. partially to make up for the fact that he hadn’t been gentlemanly enough to take her out on a proper date before tonight, but mostly just because he wanted to spoil her with some good food before she leaves. 

“now, uh…i know you said you didn’t wanna go to my restaurant. but i was thinking we could just stop in so you could see it.”

“n-no, i do wanna go,” she asserts quickly, “i’d love to see it. i was just a little…embarrassed.”

he lets out a small chuckle at this.

“you don’t need to be. i’ll get us a private table and everything.” he nods, reaching over to rest a hand on her thigh. “no one will bother us.”

“yeah?” it sounds promising. 

“yeah, baby. i’ll take care of it.”

he pulls out his phone to make a call. 

it makes her stomach flutter a little bit.

when they arrive, she’s a bit taken aback by the bear. she already knew it was a nice place—though she wasn’t expecting the type of michelin star dining that leaves people speechless. 

they’re seated the moment they walk in, and escorted to a table near the back of the restaurant, slightly hidden by the thick foliage of a potted plant. 

carmen pulls her chair out for her, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before sitting down across from her. 

“this is…it’s beautiful in here, carm.” 

“yeah?” he can’t help the boost her words give him, looking around a bit, “you think so?” 

“it’s incredible,” she nods, “i had no idea it would be so fancy.” 

he lets out a small chuckle at this, placing his hand atop hers. he goes to thank her, but is interrupted by the greeting of their waitress. 

the girl smiles in reply, feeling bad for the clearly nervous employee that has to serve the big boss. 

they order signature cocktails that cost so much the prices aren’t even listed on the menu. she supposes this follows the premise that if you have to ask for the price of something, you can’t afford it. it makes her grateful for her wallet left atop the nightstand. 

“what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when you’re back home?” he asks, taking a sip of the old fashioned he had ordered. it’s easier to talk about when he’s not thinking about how soon it’ll be a reality. 

“go to the beach,” she responds quietly, after a moment, “and get in the water. even if it’s freezing cold.” 

“yeah?” a smile forms on his face at the mental image. 

“yeah, i uh…like chicago. but i really do miss home. and i miss my friends.”  

“totally.” he gives her a knowing nod. 

“carmy, do you-” she sighs, fidgeting with her ring, “can i call you? when i’m back?” 

“you fuckin’ better.” he responds quickly. 

the girl smiles at the sternness of his response, and reaches out to touch his hand. 

“okay,” she nods, “good. cause i’m gonna miss you.” 

“yeah, it’s…it’s not gonna be easy.” understatement of the year. “it’ll work out though. i’ll come visit you or somethin’.” 

and despite the weight of the circumstances, she smiles at this, and brings his hand up to her lips, placing a slow, tender kiss to the side of it. just wanting to show her appreciation. “you’d like it, i think. it’s really different from here.”

“yeah?”

“mhm. and my friends would freak meeting you.”

“why’s that?” he raises his eyebrows. 

“cause i mean, look at you. i’d probably have to fight them off.” 

carmen lets out a soft laugh at this, shaking his head in disbelief. “y’know, i’ve thought the same thing about you? just wanna keep you to myself.” 

she smiles, and moves from kissing his hand to kissing his fingers. 

carmen rests his thumb on her cheek, tightening his jaw as she moves onto his middle finger. how she places another kiss, pressing her lips to him, holding his wrist gently and looking up at him through her eyelashes.

the sight is kind of erotic. 

“you, uh…” he clears his throat, shuffling forward in his seat, “you giving up on our game?” 

“no,” she has this innocent look on her face, like she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing, “this is PG.” carmy feels the immense urge to shove his fingers in her mouth and make her suck. 

“nothing about that is… stop,” he grunts as she softly bites him. it’s clear that she’s trying to get him to fold. and she’s right on track so far. 

“fine. you’re no fun.” she pouts, releasing his hand and sitting straight. 

“i’m not gonna lose to you.” 

“yes you are,” she smiles, resting her chin in her hand. 

his eyes flicker down to the strain of her breasts against the neckline of the dress. maybe he is. 

“nah.” he shakes his head. “no way.”  

her gaze roams over him, and she bites at her lip. 

“well i might. you look so slutty in that suit.” 

“i-…what?” 

“you heard me.” 

“i look…slutty?” there’s a perplexed expression on his face. 

“super slutty. you’re so getting it when we’re home.” 

“jesus,” he exhales a laugh, averting his eyes from her face, “you drunk off that one cocktail?” 

“no!” she smiles, rolling her eyes. “i just thought you’d wanna know. i can't stop looking at you. you’re giving me dirty thoughts.” 

he meets her eyes again with a smile, and puts his hand flat on the table, reaching out for her. when she gives him her hand, he glances at the red nail polish adorning her fingers. 

“i, uh… i can't stop looking at you either.” he runs his thumb over her skin. “i’m…crazy about you. you know that, right?” 

“i know,” she purrs, softly raking her nails over his skin softly, looking at him through her eyelashes. 

it him feel a little feral. he takes a deep breath in through his nose. 

“so, you can give up on this stupid challenge already?” his tone is low. 

“no way,” she pouts, “i want my prize.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. and don’t forget this was your idea in the first place.” 

he goes to defend himself when he’s cut off by a familiar chuckle. 

“well, shit, welcome back!” 

the girl freezes, staring straight ahead at carmen. the voice is easily recognizable. she hesitantly turns her head to put the name to a face. 

“richie,” carmen greets unenthusiastically, giving him a small nod. 

“you just can’t get enough of us or what?” richie chuckles, glancing at the girl quickly. he does kind of a double take, snapping his head back to her with wide eyes. 

she sheepishly meets his gaze, trying to not crumble under the intense look he’s giving her. 

“this is, uh…” carmen narrows his eyes at the man, “this is my girlfriend, -” he introduces her name. 

richie blinks slowly, like he’s trying to process, repeating her name. testing how it feels in his mouth.

“uh, nice to-…nice to meet you. i’m richie.” he thrusts his hand forward. 

“nice to meet you, richie,” she smiles, giving him a gentle shake. this is the most intense eye contact she’s experienced in a while. the silence is tense, and he’s staring at her with this perplexed admiration. 

“you’re…wow,” richie chuckes, “do you have an older sister or something?” 

“jesus christ, richie! go fuck off back to the front you asshole,” carmen snaps, face growing slightly red. “hey, i’m sorry about him,” richie apologizes to the girl, “he forgets that this is a nice establishment where we don’t use crass language.” his eyebrows are raised as he smooths his jacket. 

she opens her mouth to respond, but carmy’s scolding cuts her off, snapping at the man to go do his job and “stop fucking around”. 

“hey, i just wanted to come introduce myself to your lovely date,” richie puts his hands up in defense, “can i get you anything else, sweetheart?” he asks the girl, “you want another one of those?” pointing to her cocktail. 

“maybe after dinner, thank you,” she responds politely. 

“ahh okay, i like the manners! you could teach your little boyfriend over here a thing or two.”

the man has a goofy charm about him, and although carmen is getting more irate by the second, she’s amused. 

“i’m trying. but he’s kind of stubborn.” her eyes flicker over to carmen, giving him a playful smile. his frown softens at this. 

“ha! don’t i know it! last week he-”

“richie,” carmy interrupts, “can you go check on our order?” 

“carm,” the girl groans. they didn’t place their order yet. he gives her a pleading look to just go along with it. 

and whether it’s the use of his nickname or the intonation of her voice, this look of recognition washes over richie’s face and his eyes widen. he looks at carmy, then back at her. a laugh bubbles out, and he slaps a hand over his mouth, clearing this throat. his face is red.

the girl almost dies of embarrassment on the spot, knowing exactly which dots are connecting in his head. 

“okay! yeah. well. nice meeting you. i’m just gonna…” he gestures behind him, backing away with a stifled grin on his face. 

when she looks back at carmen, his head is in his hand and his eyes are tightly shut. when richie is out of sight and he finally looks back up to her, there’s a pained looked on his face. 

“i’m-…jesus christ, i'm sorry about that.” he exhales. 

the girl feels dumbfounded by the situation, and doesn’t know what to say. 

she tries to keep it in, but bursts into giggles. there’s a brief look of surprise on the man’s face which forms into a small smile. he’s giving her the kind of bewildered look that says “i’m glad you found that funny because i was about 3 seconds away from getting physical”.

she rests her head in her hand, trying to take deep breaths and stop her laughing. it doesn’t really work. 

carmy’s expression of bewilderment softens and he begins to grin watching her. 

she finally gets control over herself and straightens, huge smile on her red face, wiping a stray tear from her eye with a big sigh. 

carmen thinks it’s probably the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. and there’s this sharp pain in his chest that feels like love but also like loss. like he’s discovered this secret to life that’s about to be stolen and never given back. 

his thoughts are interrupted by their waitress setting plates down in front of them. she introduces the dish, and tells them that chef sydney plated it specially for them. 

the girl has a big smile on her face, as she raves about how nice everything is, but carmy can’t help but feel a bit sad for the rest of the night. 

-

they return home hand in hand. the chill november air smells crisp like winter. leaves in the gutters rustle with the gentle breeze. 

as they walk from the car, she wraps her arm around his and leans in, resting her head on him for a moment. 

he turns his head and smiles at her. 

“i don’t know if i ever told you this…but uh,” he glances over her face, “you’re really beautiful.” 

“thank you, carmy” her soft smile grows, “i think you have told me.” 

“not enough.” he’s kind of in a trance, pace slowing as he watches her face. she giggles and pulls him forward to the entrance. 

the doorman of their building lets the two in, giving a small smile watching the young lovers laugh, that gleam of infatuation shining bright over their faces. 

as the elevator doors close, and she turns to face him, their laughs slowly cease. they stare at each other intently. 

“stop doin’ that” he mutters lowly.

“doing what?” 

“you keep looking at my lips.” 

“i really want to kiss you.” she bites at her lip, eyes fluttering as she keeps staring. 

carmy exhales harshly at this, clenching his fists to keep his hands to himself. 

she leans forward, bringing her face closer to his. he smells so fucking good, looks so handsome in his suit, she’s tempted to just tear him apart with her teeth. 

“do it,” he challenges quietly, their lips so close. 

she almost gives up on the challenge, leaning just a little closer, then-

ding

saved by the bell, literally. the elevator doors open to their floor. 

she gasps softly at the noise, pulling away from him, face feeling hot, core tingling. 

she had complained earlier, but this challenge is fun.

they hurriedly make their way to the door of their unit. 

the girl stumbles in her heels and almost face plants, but carmy catches her, wrapping an arm around her waist and preventing her from falling. 

without warning, he hoists her up, trying to throw her over his shoulder. 

“carmy!” she yelps, “put me down!” secretly hoping he doesn’t. 

he hoists her up some more, and she folds over his shoulder, dangling upside down, laughing harder than  she has in a long time.  

“you’re too clumsy,” he teases, hand securely gripping onto the back of her thigh, walking them the last 20 feet to their door. with his free hand he retrieves his keys, unlocks the door and nudges it open. 

he only puts her down once the door is closed behind him, and she wobbles on her feet when he does so, gripping onto his arms for stability. 

her face is rosy from the blood rushing to her head, and she has a girlish smile on her face as she looks up at him. 

“you’re strong.” 

he just smiles softly, gazing down at her. 

“can you make me another one of those moscow mules?” 

“yes, chef!” she returns, kicking off her heels and walking towards the kitchen. 

he runs a hand through his hair, sighing longingly, and follows, sitting on one of the barstools opposite the counter where she stands. 

“put on some music?” she asks softly, turning on the kitchen speaker. 

“what do you want me to play?” he opens his bluetooth and connects. 

“i dunno. something romantic.” the girl has a sweet smile on her face, measuring out the vodka for his drink. 

he shuffles an oldies playlist—the songs from the 1940s/1950s that sound like real love. like loving and being loved unconditionally. like settling down and coming home to each other every day.  

“good choice,” she compliments, cracking open a ginger beer. “i love this kind of music.” a frank sinatra song plays softly. 

“me too. it’s kind of nostalgic.” he thinks of the old black and white movies he would watch with his mom.  

“here,” she hands him the cold drink, garnished with mint and lime. 

“thank you,” he has a small smile on his face, taking a sip. it’s bubbly and refreshing. 

she clicks the speaker up a few notches, and hums along, putting away all of the drink materials. 

carmen loves the sound of it. 

the girl saunters over to him and perches herself on his lap, hand circling behind his neck. 

his arm wraps around her back as she steals his drink to take a sip. 

“good, huh?” he praises, dragging his thumb along the fabric of her dress. 

“it’s okay,” she sets the cup down, “not as good as the michelin star cocktail i had earlier.” 

“i disagree.” 

“oh really?” she has this smile of disbelief. 

“mhm. this could be award winning, easily.” 

“you’re just saying that.” 

“no. m’serious.” his hand rests on her knee, and he rubs it along her leg softly. 

she just smiles at this, and leans in to pepper kisses along his cheek and jaw. the first song fades into the next. 

“wanna dance?” she smiles against his skin.

“dance?” 

“yeah. slow dance with me.”

“i, uh… i don’t know how.” 

“what do you mean you don’t know how?” she giggles, standing up from his lap. “come here.”

he slowly joins her in the living room, a bashful expression on his face. he’s never been able to dance. it’s always made him feel stupid. but even so, he approaches. 

this love of mine goes on and on. 

she takes his hand and gently puts one on her waist, holding the other. she loops her other arm around his neck. carmy finds his nerves are almost immediately eased. 

they sway gently. the light is low and an ella fitzgerald song resonates through the room. it’s slow, and kind of sad. but still romantic. 

though life is empty since you’ve been gone.

carmen closes his eyes and rests his forehead on hers, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly sentimental.

his arms wrap around her further, and he pulls her closer. the music has an old fashioned grainy sound to it that makes it sound sweet. 

she leans in to kiss his neck, chest pressed flush against his. she feels a surge of warmth throughout her chest. feeling grateful. relishing the moment. resting her head against him. 

the two just sway gently, taking light steps ever so often. 

it almost felt as if they were playing pretend—both dressed in their nicest clothes, tipsy off of $20 cocktails, swaying to the romantic music. pretending the end isn’t in sight. 

i ask the sun and the moon. the stars that shine. 

he pulls back to get another look at her face. tries to ignore the way his throat tightens. 

what’s to become of it, this love of mine?

the girl’s gaze is longingly fixed on his handsome face. 

“i really did have a wonderful time tonight,” she whispers.

he gives her a smile, but it looks kind of sad. 

“i’m glad.” 

“i don’t really know how to say this, but…” she drops his hand and wraps both arms around his neck, getting a bit closer, “i…i’m really happy i met you.” 

he releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, eyes flickering over her face. he really wants to kiss her. 

“i-…you know i’m never gonna be able to stop thinking about you?” 

“i know, carm. i won’t either.” she hates how sad he looks. “but it’ll get easier, yeah?”

“yeah.” it’s gotta be the biggest lie he’s ever told someone.  

“i love you, you know?” her confession comes as a whisper. 

“i know, baby,” his tone is low, and he tightens his grip on her hips, like he’s afraid of her disappearing, “i love you too.”

what’s to become of it, this love of mine?

the song fades out slowly, and for some reason the music stops all together. the silence is thick, and the two lovers stare at each other with a palpable tension. 

her eyes dart down to his lips.

“i um…i think i give up.” she whispers. 

his brows furrow. before he can ask her what she means, the girl leans in and presses a firm, sweet kiss to his lips. and as innocent as the gesture is, it makes the air feel hot. makes it feel heavy. gives him goosebumps all over his arms. makes him groan.

almost instantly, carmen grabs the back of her head and pulls her against his lips, desperate to get more. he really does try to match her slow pace but he just needs it. he slips his tongue into her mouth, not even realizing how bad he needs it until he tastes her. 

the girl reciprocates for a moment, a small smile forming at the unexpected ferocity. her hands come to his chest and she eases herself away from him, feeling him chase her lips. 

“slow down,” she teases, helping to alleviate some of his hunger with a gentle kiss, a small grin on her face. 

she’s really good at using his words against him, he thinks to himself. 

“you look pretty,” the girl says in a low tone, eyes raking over the lipstick she’s left smudged over his pouty, swollen lips. slutty is probably the more accurate term. 

“pr-…what?” his brain stutters. 

the girl swipes her thumb over his lips and shows him the red stain, before leaning forward to pepper gentle kisses along his cheek, jaw, down to his neck. 

it surprises carmen when she keeps moving downwards, threading her fingers into his tie and loosening the knot, kissing and nipping at every inch of skin she can find. she moves eagerly, but gently—really savoring the way he tenses and shudders from the light touches. this time feeling as if she holds the power. 

the girl drops to her knees, smiling up at his look of wide-eyed shock as she fumbles with the buckle of his belt. 

“w-what are you doing?” he rasps, clearing his throat. 

“what do you mean?” she’s looking up at him innocently, slowly undoing his button and zipper.

“you, uh…you don’t have to.” he’s fixated on how pretty she looks down on her knees for him, “i know we made that bet, but if you don’t want to,-”

she pulls his briefs down to expose his cock and cuts him off with a breathy moan. it springs from confinement, tip red and throbbing. the sight alone is enough to send heat pooling between her legs, and she hungrily dives forward to lick a single stripe up the side of it. 

carmen lets out a low groan, still surprised by how enthusiastically she dove to her knees—her droopy eyes, the satisfied grin on her face looking up at him—it’s as if she didn’t even care about the challenge. like it’s prize enough just to please him. 

the girl softly grips his cock, leaning in and planting kisses teasingly along the length of it. making her way to the tip. it twitches in her hand. she flattens her tongue against the head of his cock and just pauses there for a second, looking up at his twisted brows and red cheeks with an amused expression. trying to gauge him. 

carmen intently watches her—pink tongue, manicured nails, looking up at him through her lashes. he lets out a guttural groan when she swirls her tongue around the head of his cock. 

the girl takes a breath and dives forward to take him into her mouth. 

“jesus.” his hand comes to card through her hair, pushing it out of her way as she hungrily takes him in. 

he’s thick and heavy in her mouth. she gives a few bobs of her head, coating him in her saliva, trying to find what makes him tick. tasting his distinct flavor and pressing her thighs together to try and chase some relief. 

“fuck, that’s-,” he exhales sharply as she moves her head up and down the length of his shaft, saliva coating his skin, beginning to stick to his pubic hair, “that’s good. keep doin’ that.” it’s more of a plea than a command. 

she doesn’t, though, instead easing her mouth from his cock, watching as a string of spit connects them as she pulls back with a soft giggle. 

he knows he’s completely fucked for her when his erection twitches at the noise. he rakes his eyes over her flushed face and chest. the way her lipstick is smudged across her spit-glossed lips. 

“keep doing what?” she asks teasingly.

“you-…stop fuckin’ playing with me,” he rasps exasperatedly. 

the girl smiles at his tone, and leans forward to give gentle kitten-like licks over his throbbing head. 

“m’not-” a kiss, “playing with you, carmy,” another kiss, “i’m just…enjoying myself.” she gently jerks the length of him, opening her mouth, bumping him against her tongue with every few strokes. she finds herself getting aroused trying to push his buttons like this. 

“you’re-mmh…you’re gonna fuckin’ get it if you don’t stop.” 

“you want me to stop?” she asks sweetly, “okay.” she drops her hand and sits back on her heels, watching as his erection bobs up and down. 

carmen’s gaze darkens, jaw clenched. 

“you-…” he scoffs, “i can see right through what you’re doing.”

“oh yeah?” she tests, “what am i doing?” 

“you’re trying to get me to get rough with you.”

bingo. she kind of wants a face fucking. 

“no i’m not.” the girl bites at her lip unconvincingly. 

“yes you are. and i'm not going to.” 

“wha-why?” she pouts, scooting closer to him. his cock brushes against her cheek. 

“not like this. i don’t wanna hurt you.” he reaches forward to brush a piece of hair behind her ear, letting his hand trail over her face. 

“you won’t,” she whines, eyes darting between his face and his raging erection. it’s big, so maybe he will. but she doesn’t care. “i can take it.” 

“you like to argue,” he grumbles, taking ahold of her face, squeezing her cheeks together slightly. she looks so cute like this. 

“carm,” she whines, “i can take it. promise i can. please?” 

carmen releases her face, trailing his hand behind her head and gripping her hair. with his other hand he fists his cock and gently eases it forward, rubbing the tip against her slick, pouty lips. 

“open,” his tone is low, and he slowly pushes himself into her mouth when she complies. he goes until he feels restriction, and pulls back. 

the girl lets out a sound of disagreement at this. 

“hey.” carmen chides firmly, “you’re gonna take what i fuckin’ give you.” he watches the way her eyelids flutter at his stern tone. the way she shifts her body overtop her heel.

the girl lets a sigh out through her nose and tries to exercise patience as the man slowly rocks his hips forward and back, never breaching the halfway point. remaining gentle and delicate in his motion. 

when she tries to sink her mouth further forward, he grips her hair and harshly tugs her back. her yelp is muffled around his cock. 

“what, baby? that hurt?” his tone has a mocking edge to it. “thought y’said you could handle it.” he pulls himself out of her mouth so she can respond. 

“i can.” her voice trembles. face is red hot. panties soaked with slick. 

“yeah?” he slaps his cock against her cheek, “gonna be a tough girl for me?” 

“yes,” she pleads, eyes fixated on him, enthusiastically embracing his shift of dominance.  

to her surprise, carmen steps away from her. he’s giving her this look as if he’s about to devour her. silence, for a moment. like he’s thinking. 

“take off your dress.” 

she blinks, processing the request for a moment. after she shoots up and undoes her zipper, she hastily shoves the fabric down her body, letting it pool around her ankles before stepping out. and by the time she’s about to get back on her knees, carmen’s own clothes are on the floor next to hers. 

the man graciously rakes his eyes over her nude body, thanking each and every saint he could think of. grabbing her and pulling her in for a frantic kiss before she can sink back down to her knees. he can taste the fruity remnants of lime and mint on her lips from the cocktail she had at the restaurant. 

the girl eagerly accepts his kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth, swallowing the small groan he releases. 

“wanna taste you again,” she pleads in between kisses. 

“yeah?” he bites at her lip.

“y-eah,” she gasps, surprised at how firmly he had nipped her. 

carmen pulls away with a final kiss, moving to sit on the couch. he spreads his knees apart and locks eyes with the girl, a silent beckon to come. 

she obeys, of course, and sinks down to the floor in between his legs, resting her hands atop his strong thighs. it’s only moments before she’s eagerly diving forward to take him into her mouth again. 

carmy just watches her, savoring the moment. savoring how her tongue swirls around him and how she keeps going lower and lower. how her face gets redder and how she stares up at him with blown pupils. it’s surreal—almost dreamlike. 

he gathers her hair in a haphazard ponytail, using his grip to push her a little further down. make her move a little faster. he can tell she likes it, too, by the way her moans vibrate around his cock. 

carmen pulls her back by her hair, forcing her to take a breather. his eyes rake over her flushed cheeks and pouty lips. she looks like a little doll, and the juxtaposition of her pretty face with the filthy position drives him fucking crazy. 

“stick your tongue out,” he tells her gruffly. 

and she does, showing him her tongue and gazing up at him through her lashes. 

carmy takes a firm hold of her face with his free hand and spits into her mouth. then eases his cock back inside. 

it’s enough to make her want to cum on the spot. 

the girl takes him in deeper than she had yet, almost hitting the back of her throat. and despite her gag, she continues to enthusiastically bob her head, desperate for more. 

it’s so enjoyable, in fact, that she trails her hand down between her legs, beginning to circle her swollen clit just to alleviate some of the heat she felt. and it feels so fucking good just to have that added touch that her body goes a little limp, jaw goes slack. 

she gives carmen complete control of her movements, tethered to him by the tight fist wrapped around her hair—consciously focusing on relaxing her throat as tears brim her eyes. 

“jesus christ, that’s good, baby.” he shifts forward, filling her mouth with more of his length. watches in mild enjoyment as she gags around him. 

“just relax,” he soothes, moving his free hand to caress her face, dragging her back by her hair. 

the girl takes a sharp breath in as soon as she can, tears beginning to slip down her cheeks. her fingers are drenched with slick arousal, staring carmy in the eyes, lips parted as continues to eagerly rub circles over her clit. 

“fuck me,” he strains, watching her play with herself, unaware of her desperation until that moment. the sight looks like it’s straight out of a porno. “you having fun down there?”

she nods her head eagerly, wiping some saliva from her chin with the back of her hand, leaning forward to try and take him back into her mouth. 

carmen gives her hair a little tug, keeping her in place. 

she glances up to give him a questioning look.

“come give me a taste.” his eyes glance down to her lips. 

a small smile forms on her face as she processes his request. she gingerly leans forward, careful to not earn another tug, and licks a long stripe up his cock. 

carmy loosens the grip on her hair as she goes to stand up, enthusiastically accepting her tongue into his mouth to taste himself. 

there’s something about the ferocity of the kiss that makes him feel like he’s on the verge of finishing all over his stomach. he takes deep breaths trying to push the feeling away. and that’s before he feels the wet heat of her pussy rubbing against the tip his length. 

the girl finds herself so desperate for release she begins to rock against his erection, letting it glide through her wet folds, gauging his reaction to see if he’ll stop her. 

and he doesn’t, instead groaning into her mouth and grabbing her ass. 

so the girl positions her wet hole over his cock, and slowly begins to sink down, letting out a gasp at the stretch. 

“fuck,” the two chant in tandem, hers as a whimper and his as more of a gruff exhale. 

carmen marvels about how perfect the stretch of her wet hot cunt feels around him as she eases herself down until she’s flush with his lap. 

they just stare at each other for a second in this feral, pupils-blown kind of frenzy, mouths both agape at the sensation of his cock nudged so deeply within her. how she’s not even moving and it’s just so hot and wet and deep and fucking good. 

carmen’s hand sides up her back, thumb pressing into the dip of her spine. his face is hot and his cock is throbbing and his mouth moves faster than his mind can.

“m’keeping you here with me,” he almost growls, pressing his fingers into her skin, eyes locked on hers. doesn’t miss the way she flinches a little at the words. 

the girl grips the sides of his face, and leans forward, pressing her forehead against his, closing her eyes and shakily exhaling as she rocks her hips back and forth against him. 

carmy says her name. it comes out strained. his hands grab her ass and he pulls and pushes her, intensifying the gentle rocking motion. 

the girl presses her lips to his, hoping to quiet him with a kiss. hoping to forget about it and just enjoy the moment. but she feels him call her name again, this time against her lips. the girl begins to softly bounce herself on his lap, jostling his length inside of her. 

“hey,” he exhales in between her eager kisses. “i didn’t mean-” another kiss, “-you just feel so good and i-”

“carmy,” she whispers softly against his lips, “be quiet baby. just-mmh… let’s just enjoy it.” 

carmen groans into her mouth as she rocks her hips against his again, hand coming to the small of her back. and it’s definitely enjoyable. it’s just hard to not think about it ending. to not plead with her for just a little more. 

the girl takes his scrunched face and nod as a gesture to keep going, so she shuffles her knees in a bit and begins slowly riding him. one hand touches his firm chest, the other trailing her kisses from his jaw to his neck. 

“jesus christ,” is what slips from his mouth, as he feels her gentle bites, allowing himself to relinquish that control he holds so dearly, for just a moment.

when she pulls back from his neck, her face and chest are flushed, nipples perked, and she’s pushing her breasts out trying to get him to look.

but his eyes just remain fixed on hers, like he’s trying to memorize her blown pupils and color of her irises. 

“is it okay?” she asks breathily as she keeps rocking her hips, feeling unexpectedly nervous under his intense gaze. 

“you’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he mutters immedietly, as if he doesn’t entirely process her question. 

and even though they were this far along, the girl finds herself feeling shy at his sincerity. she goes to deflect as she usually does to compliments that fluster her. 

“n-no, i-”

“-you are. my pretty fuckin’ girl. never gonna let you outta my sight,” he almost growls. 

and by this point her body is hot and her pussy is throbbing and she’s finding the words that come out of his mouth so incredibly tempting. the implications less serious under the blanket of lust. so her lips part in a moan and she presses her hand to his chest and begins to ride faster, easing off then re-impaling herself on his cock. his hands come up to cup her breasts, ghosting thumbs over her nipples. 

“yes, carm.”

“yeah?” 

“mhm. love how you touch me.” 

she shuffles her feet under her knees, angling herself to be able to bounce a bit more comfortably. 

“you feel so-fuck… so good, you know that?” carmen grits, face scrunching at the new sensation.  

her stomach flutters at his praise, eyes raking down his form beneath her. his flushed skin. the way the muscle of his shoulder bulges out a little as he’s grabbing her like his life depends on it. 

“feels so big,” she whisper-cries.

“yeah? is it too much?” 

“n-no. so good. m’so full.”

his eyes glance down to where their bodies are connected. watches her ride him for a moment. groans at the way she becomes nearly all the way flush with his hips. 

“so good at that,” he grits, mesmerized by the way her sticky arousal clings to his pubic hair. “take me so good. you like feelin’ full, huh?” 

her mouth just falls open in response, eyes screwing shut as she feels him reach forward to circle her clit. the added pleasure only spurs her on, beginning to eagerly ride him, breasts bouncing in front of his face. 

“holy shit,” she cries, surprised how easily she feels her orgasm building, nails leaving crescents on the skin of his shoulder. 

“you close already, baby?” he whispers with a small, knowing grin on his face. “m’barely touching you.”

she just moans in response, unable to open her eyes, bucking her hips more wildly by the second, movements becoming sloppier, needier. 

“just keep-ah…just stay right there,” she pleads, savoring his slick, feather-light touches to her clit, feeling tears well up in her eyes. 

“right there?” carmen eases his fingers back slightly at the sight of her tears, and it’s just enough pressure to keep her on edge. 

“y-yeah, i’m…just please-” she cries pathetically, breaths becoming frantic, a static feeling tingling through her body. “please, carmy, m’gonna cum. just a little more.” 

and he can’t help but just marvel at her. the twisted expression of pleasure on her face. the stray tear that slips down her cheek. it’s probably the most erotic thing he’s ever seen. 

as a thank you for the next year of jerk-off material, he lets her have just a little more. watches with enjoyment as she finally comes unraveled with this loud, primal cry. feels the sting of her nails against his chest and bicep. 

the man holds her hip with his free hand, thrusting up into her as her movement falters and she slumps forward. 

“carm, i-” she gasps, body becoming overstimulated, thighs trembling.

“i got you, baby. i got you.” 

“it’s-ah!”

“one more second, pretty girl, m’almost done. can you hold on for me?” 

“y-yeah,” she cries, desperately grabbing onto him for dear life. there’s this overwhelming heat surging through her body. her lips feel numb and tingly. but she holds on and takes it like a big girl. 

“you’re fuckin’ gripping me.” he strains, eyebrows twisted up in pleasure.

the girl isn’t able to respond through her jagged breathing, instead leaning forward to hungrily kiss him again.

“y’gonna have to move in a sec,” carmen warns, gripping her hips with bruising force. 

“no,” she begins to move her hips against him, meeting his thrusts halfway.

carmy groans, eyes nearly rolling back into his head. “what do you mean no?” he strains. 

“want it in me.” 

“jesus, fu-” he exasperatedly exhales, “can’t baby. you know i can’t.” 

they lock eyes, pupils blown. 

“please. wanna feel it.” her plead comes in between desperate breaths. 

“what, you want a baby or something?” the man asks her, partially in disbelief and partially in a fiery haze of lust. 

“yes-!” she gasps. and even though a baby is probably the last thing she wants, there’s this inexplicable urge that overtakes. that revels in the idea of being linked with him forever. 

“yeah?” he’s shocked by her answer, but not dissuaded, “you want me to put a baby in you?” 

“yeah, carm. want your baby. wanna stay here with you.” the girl finds herself coming up on a second orgasm, relishing the way his cock perfectly nudges against her g-spot. 

“fuckk,” he groans, face growing hot at her words, “you want that? really?” studying her expression for any trace of hesitation. finding none. “cause i’ll give it to you.” and he’s dead serious. he’ll buy a ring for her tomorrow if she wants it, he thinks to himself. 

“yes, i want it,” she cries, “cum in me, please.”

and between the desperation of her plead and her breasts bouncing right in his face, it takes him about 5 more seconds before he erupts. 

his cock twitches, body stiffens and he lets out a guttural moan, grabbing onto her hips with a bruising force. 

and the feeling of his hot cum inside of her is enough for the girl to fall over the edge for a second time, tear-soaked eyes rolling back into her head, a whitehot bliss surging through her body. 

the two lovers are overcome with the sensation, sexes pulsing rhythmically in sync, graciously sharing orgasms with each other. 

carmen’s eyes are scrunched shut, brows furrowed and lips parted. 

the girl’s head falls to his shoulder, shakily breathing through the feeling. trying to come back down to earth. 

they just stay there for a moment, panting. recovering. 

she finds that she can hear his heartbeat. zones into the rhythm. listens as it gradually slows.

carmy wraps his arms around her and nuzzles his face into her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. 

when she finally pulls back after a few minutes, she plants a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“you good?” he asks against her mouth. 

“so good.” and so full and so warm. she never wants to move. 

but like all good things, they must come to an end. so the girl begins to slowly ease herself off his cock. and suddenly realizes what just happened. 

“oh shit.” 

“what?” carmen opens his eyes. watches as his cum slowly drips out of her. tries to take a mental picture. 

but the girl quickly reaches over to grab a tissue off the coffee table, frantically wiping away the surplus of the stickiness leaking from her core. 

“why didn’t you pull out?” her tone grows a bit frantic. 

“wha-cause you fuckin’ begged me not to.” he shakes his head, trying to comprehend her question. 

“i-…” she stutters, exhaling, “fuck, carmy, i’m not on birth control!” 

he has this perplexed expression on his face, blinking slowly and trying to rationalize her response. “you…did you not want me to? m sorry, i-”

“-no, i know i told you to. i just-…i got caught up in the moment i guess.” between the release of her orgasm and the weight of her previous request, the girl finds herself fighting the urge to cry. 

carmen must seem to notice this, because his hardened expression softens a bit. he quickly tries to think of something comforting to say. 

“want me to take you to get a plan b?” 

nice, carmy, he thinks to himself. he’s never been good at responding fast under pressure.

“yeah.” her response comes as a whisper. comes with a single tear. she turns her head away from him and embarrassedly tries to wipe it away. 

“hey,” he says tenderly, going to hold the side of her face, turning her back to face him. just studies her face for a moment with furrowed brows, trying to think of what to say. “you…you know i’d support you, right? if you…whatever you decide.”

“really?” it’s hard for her to believe him. 

“yes, really.”

“you’d want a baby?”

“if that’s what you want.” he has the most genuine expression on his face, eyes locked with hers. he watches another tear roll down her cheek and adds, “seriously. i’m all in.”

she’s shocked by his sincerity. it doesn’t make anything easier, either. just makes everything feel more confusing. 

“i’m…carmy, i can’t.” her words come out as a kind of sob. 

“that’s okay.” he reassures wholeheartedly. he doesn’t know why he feels just a little disappointed. 

“but i want to.” the girl plants her hands on his bare chest. “it’s just…you’re older than me. you’re ready for that kind of thing. i’m…such a mess, i can’t even imagine being a mom yet.” it comes out choked, the tears just keep falling. 

“i get it.” he nods. “really. you don’t have to explain yourself.” he rubs circles with his thumb along her hip. “i just wanted you to know. it’s your choice.”

“you’d wanna have a baby with me?” she wipes at her cheek. 

“yeah.” he nods, brows furrowed. “of course i would.” 

and just for a moment, the girl lets herself fantasize. lets her brain entertain the thought of having a family with him. of just leaving everything in california and starting new. of being so selfish and doing what she wants, just this one time. 

the thought is so tempting she finds it hard to distance herself from. to rationalize. 

she wouldn’t be a good mom. a good wife. not right now. she still has so much to learn about herself. so much to still figure out. 

after a moment, she finally speaks. 

“can you take me to cvs?” 

carmen nods, and reaches up to wipe the last of her tears away. 

he ignores the gnawing feeling of loss. has to remind himself it’s the loss of a fantasy. 

the loss of something that never existed. 

-

“fuck me.” she drops her bag to the ground, frantically opening pockets and unzipping zippers. “carm, i think i left my passport on the-“ 

“-no you didn’t.” he fishes in his back pocket for the booklet and hands it over. “here.”

the girl lets out a sigh of relief, staring up at the man with this perplexed, amazed expression. 

“thank you.” it comes out in a sort of whisper, and when she goes to take it from him, their fingers brush against each other. 

“you, uh…you only got an hour left.” he runs his hand through his messy hair. “y’should probably go find your gate.” 

“yeah.” she stands. her bag remains on the ground. “okay.” 

the two just stare at each other for a minute, locked in this trance-like state. 

“you know, i-”

“-do you think we-” 

their words overlap. 

“i’m sorry, you go-”

“-no, go ahead.” carmen nods, a small smile on his face. 

she takes a deep breath, piecing together what she even wants to say. 

“just…thank you. for everything. and i’m gonna miss you.” her words don’t do it justice. there’s so much more she wants to say. 

he nods, swallowing harshly. his fingers fumble for the piece of paper folded up in his pocket. 

“i, uh…listen. i know you’re gonna be busy, and…want to focus on other things, which i get. but, uh…i was thinking, if you wanted…no pressure…uh,”

“what is that?” she interrupts, curiosity getting to the better of her, pointing to the folded up paper he holds. 

“it’s uh…it’s a plane ticket. well, a voucher.” he hurriedly explains, “from LAX to ORD. i was thinking if you ever had a weekend free or something…” he trails off, trying to gauge her reaction. hoping he’s not overstepping. 

she takes deep breaths—having promised herself earlier that she wouldn’t cry. but the moment she goes to open her mouth to speak, a sob comes out. she claps her hand over her mouth. closes her eyes as she feels carmen’s arms instantly wrap around her. 

“hey,” he soothes, kissing the side of her head. “c’mon, don’t cry. you’re gonna make me cry.” his voice wobbles a bit.

the girl burrows her face into his chest, staining his shirt with tears. 

“i don’t wanna go-!” she cries, clinging onto him as if her life depends on it. 

“i know.” he nuzzles his nose into her hair. “i know, pretty girl. it’s gonna be okay.” his throat burns. face feels hot. and as much as he hates it, tears brim at his eyes. he told himself he wasn’t going to cry. 

and so they just stand there, holding each other. ignoring the shuffle of the crowd around them as people queue into the security line. 

ignoring the grainy announcements over the pa system. 

ignoring the fact that it would’ve been so much less painful had they never gone so far. 

for a moment, it feels like the world around them stops. the passage of time, the priority of leaving, all of it. 

just for a moment. like they’re back in the living room and ella fitzgerald is playing. 

“don’t forget about me,” she pleads into the fabric of his jacket. 

“i don’t think i could if i tried.”

at this, she places a soft kiss onto his neck. “i’ll miss you.”

“me too,” carmen chokes out, grabbing at her waist, her hips, trying to memorize the feeling of her body against his. 

and as the girl slowly tries to pull away, he holds her a little tighter, trying to turn his head so she doesn’t see him cry. 

“carmy,” she whispers soothingly, reaching up to wipe a tear from his face. 

“just, uh…call me when you land, yeah?” he brushes the gesture off, feeling all too vulnerable under her sympathetic gaze. 

“okay.” she rubs his cheek. 

“alright. i guess you should go get in line, then.” he goes to step back. 

“wait.”

the girl pulls his face in and presses one last kiss to his lips. it feels like they lock together. like the perfect fit.

and carmen just melts into the feeling, letting out the smallest of groans into her mouth. it’s her taste, her smell, everything. for a split second he debates giving up on his dreams. selling the restaurant and following her to california. raising babies and laying in the sand and swimming in the ocean no matter how cold it is. 

she slowly steps back, leaving him wanting just a little more. 

“i love you.” she softly reminds him, holding his hand. 

he nods, pressing his lips together and looking away from her. feeling so stupid for the tears that burn his eyes. 

“i love you too.” 

the girl takes another step back, letting her hand fall from his. picking up her bag and giving him one last good look. imprinting into her mind his messy curls and handsome face. 

and it feels like there’s nothing left to say, really. 

so she turns and walks away from him. towards the security checkpoint doors. taking deep breaths and wiping at her cheeks. she’s about to push through the doors.

don’t look back. do not look back. 

she turns to look back at him. and he’s still there, standing in the same place she’d left him. his hands are in his pockets. jaw is clenched. just watching her with this look on his face that makes her want to dive into his arms and tell him she’ll stay. 

the girl raises her hand. gives him a small wave. he returns the gesture with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. 

and with that, she pushes through the doors. 

in a way, it feels like she’s leaving home. not returning home. 

for the entire flight, she stares out the window in complete silence. thinking about the last few months. biting back more tears with every new thought. 

she gets back to san diego around 6 in the evening. takes a taxi to the beach that’s a mile from her house. 

sends carmy a picture of the waves rolling in, the sky stained a pinkish orange. 

within a few minutes, she receives a heart on the photo. 

he doesn’t send anything else. 

it does feel good to be home. the girl has to continually remind herself of this over the next few weeks. it feels familiar. feels safe. 

but along with the joy of being back home, there’s this underlying feeling of grief. a gnawing in her chest whenever she lays her head down at night. 

she feels haunted by carmen, in a way. 

her brain plays cruel tricks on her—mistaking any white man with curly brown hair at the supermarket for him just for a split second. 

stalking his instagram. his restaurant’s instagram. his restaurant’s employee’s instagrams. trying to keep up with him. 

she doesn’t call him. doesn’t text. 

and carmy doesn’t either. 

she opens their message thread ever so often just to make sure she didn’t miss his notification. types out messages and deletes them and stares at the heart he’d left on her picture. 

she convinces herself that if he wanted to call her, he would’ve. takes his silence as a message. 

on christmas day she has one cranberry cocktail too many and finally gives in. navigates to her contacts and presses on the phone icon next to his name. 

and the line rings. and rings. and rings. and right before she’s about to hang up and drown herself in more cranberry cocktails, the line picks up. 

“hey,” comes carmen’s voice through the phone. it’s so good to hear that the girl blanks out for a minute, not even sure of what to say. “hello?” he asks into the silence. 

“fuck you,” she blurts out, clapping a hand over her mouth as soon as the words leave. it was just the first thing that came to mind. 

after a stunned silence, she hears him give a surprised chuckle, followed by a “merry christmas to you too.” carmen grabs his jacket and opens the door of his mom’s house, stepping out into the cold, snowy night. 

“you never called me.” 

“i, um…i didn’t think you wanted me to,” the man responds truthfully, “you never responded.” 

what? he never sent anything to respond to. 

“respond to-…” she scoffs, “what, you ‘liking’ my message?” 

“yeah,” he feels a little embarrassed hearing it out loud, “yeah, i guess i can see what you mean. i, uh…sorry. i was actually just thinking about you.” 

his admission sends butterflies through her stomach. she rolls her eyes at the feeling. 

“yeah, well merry christmas. and i hope you get coal.” her face feels hot. “and i miss you.” the last part spills out without her permission. 

he gives her another soft laugh. 

“yeah, i deserve coal. and i…i miss you so fucking much,” he admits, watching his breath freeze in the air in front of him, “you still liking it out there?”

“it’s alright.” her response comes softly. she plays with a loose thread on her sweater. 

“yeah? your mom doing okay?” 

“i guess. as okay as she can. is yours?” 

carmen exhales, half humorous, half exasperation. “yeah. as okay as she can.” he had been called a bitch more times than he could count tonight, actually. but he keeps it light. 

the girl just hums in agreement at this, and a brief silence settles between them. he’s the one to eventually break it. 

“you, uh…you think about coming out anytime soon?” god, he wishes he had a cigarette. “still got your room empty.”

“yeah, i have.” it’s all she’s been thinking about. but she tries to stay nonchalant. “maybe after new years.” 

“great, yeah.” his heart pounds a little faster at her words. “no pressure, just…yeah. i’d love to see you.”

“okay. i’ll um…i’ll let you know,” she tells him softly, feeling an overwhelming urge to cry. 

“okay.”

“merry christmas, carmy.”

“merry christmas.” he shuffles from side to side. “stay in touch, yeah? it was really good to hear from you.”

“yeah, i will. you too. goodnight.”

“wait, i uh-” he wants to tell her he loves her. 

“hm?” she puts the phone back up to her ear. 

“just, um…take care of yourself, yeah?” he can’t seem to muster up the courage.

“i will.” 

“okay. good.”

“i…i’m gonna feel stupid for saying this, but i love you, carm.” 

he gets this feeling of relief and pain all in one. “i love you too.” so much. “thanks for callin’.”

“goodnight.”

“yeah, night.” 

the line disconnects. and it feels better than before. 

hurts still, yes. 

but better. 

the girl finds herself staring at the ceiling that night, just thinking. about her family, her career. about carmen. finds solace in the way that gnawing feeling is replaced by a fluttering. a hopefulness. 

and what is love, if not unconditional and everlasting? 

she drifts off to sleep with warm cheeks and the image of his goofy smile at the forefront of her mind. 

-

a/n: ow. 

really hope you enjoyed this series :) these two i hold so near & dear to my heart and i thoroughly enjoyed watching this story fold out along with you. thank you all so much for your patience with the process & for your kind words!!! xoxox

[fandomsandfeminism]

How would Ted Bundy do in a society which fully prioritized social services, restorative practices, prevention and treatment to the extent that all prisons have been closed? I dunno, man. But that's my point- neither do you, but you picked him because you think the answer is "he'd just keep killing people no matter what" and there's no evidence in the world I could present that would prove otherwise.

Look, there's two ways to think about this-

1. The practical. Full prison abolition is a long term aspiration. There are many many steps between where we are and that, and each one is better than the last. The second to last step would be 99.999% prison abolition with just 1 facility left to house those for whom nothing else stops them from being an active and ongoing threat to others. And even if you think THAT is the last actual realistic step, not 100%, you advocate for 100% for as long as you can because you want to make sure that anyone who can be helped IS. You advocate for 100% to make sure we don't stop at 99.98% if 99.99% is possible.

2. The theoretical.

I don't think any human is born evil. I don't think any human being is inherently so broken and so tainted and so foul that nothing in the world could ever help them. I think the only limitations are time and resources. And I think that whether or not that 100% abolition is ever practical given the limitations of human time and resources, it is something that philosophically it is important to hold onto.

Prison is dehumanizing. And the declaration that some people can only ever be dealt with no matter what except prison is dehumanizing. And once you cede that *some* people can and even should be treated that way- I think it allows us to be complacent with things we should not be complacent with.

It's very clear that we agree on most points of this issue. That the prison system only makes our society more violent and more dangerous. That it functions as legal slavery. That it is used as a weapon against already marginalized communities. That we need to get rid of it. Your hang up is on that last prison cell and the last person who you think deserves to be in it. But that's the thing about systems and rights- once you decide that prison is something that a person can deserve, then the powers that be get to decide which people that includes.

You think people used to argue that "we can't stop cutting off the hands of thieves- some people will never stop stealing unless you do." There are so many ways in which societies used to punish crime that we *no longer do.* we don't tar and feather people. People arent drawn and quartered. We don't stone people and whip people or lock them in pillories. The systems that replaced those punishments didn't *end crime*, but it did better society. Ask yourself why prisons couldn't be the same.

[silent-stories]

Brother's best friend! Noah

Pairing: Noah sebastian x reader

Summary: sneaking out at night (again)

The house is quiet as you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. The soft hum of the voices coming from the TV still on in the livingroom is the only sound breaking the silence.

Outside your window, the stars shine brightly in the deep night sky and the light filtering through the curtains is softly illuminating your bedroom.

It's been a couple of weeks since Jolly found out that you and Noah are together. He promised not to tell anyone and he kept his promise.

Your phone buzzes on your nightstand, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You reach over quickly, hoping it’s him. Knowing it's him.

Noah: I’ve been waiting for this all day

Noah: But Nicholas is still watching that damn movie.

Noah: If he doesn’t wrap it up soon, I’m gonna lose it.

You look at his texts as a little sigh leave your lips.

You: I know. I can’t even leave my room if he is still there.

You: It’s like he’s never gonna go to sleep.

Noah: Yeah, he’s definitely watching some crazy long documentary or whatever.

Noah: I bet we’re gonna be up til morning.

You roll your eyes, imagining Nicholas sitting there with that seriousness of his. There’s nothing that man loves more than a random documentary, sometimes.

You: That's so annoying.

For a moment, your phone doesn't lit up with a new text from Noah, and you already know he is thinking about something.

Noah: You think you can get out of your room from your window?

You freeze. Did he just suggest what you think he suggested?

You: Have you gone crazy? You know that’s not a good idea. It’s like 2 AM.

You can almost picture him grinning in his room as he texts you.

Noah: It’s the first floor. Just a little jump.

Noah: I’ll be here to catch you, don't worry. Give me 10 minutes.

You stare at your phone screen for a moment, unsure whether to laugh or scold him.

You: This is a terrible idea. What if someone hears something? What if they realize one of us is not home anymore?

Noah: Trust me. I’ve got this, it's not different than sneaking into my room.

Noah: You’ll be fine. Just get ready.

Reluctantly, you place your phone back on the bed and move to the window. You crack it open a few inches, peering into the night. You can see the glow of the porch lights shining on the grass below, but there’s no sign of Noah. You wait for a couple of minutes more.

A moment later, Noah is standing there, his hands tucked into the pockets of his oversized hoodie, the hood pulled low enough to hide his hair. He immediately smiles at you.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady as you lean out just a bit further.

Noah looks up at you. “I expect a "oh Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?" Not a "What are you doing?""

"Dumbass."

"But you love me. And I love you too. And I wanted to see you.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the soft smile that tugs at your lips. “Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, though the words come out more fond than annoyed.

Noah’s grin widens. “And I know you wanted to see me too. So here I am. Let's go.”

You chuckle softly, glancing down at the ground. He’s right—it’s the first floor. You can definitely jump without breaking anything.

"Why can't you just come inside now?"

"I liked our last "date", walking around and holding your hand like we are not hiding anymore. Even if it lasts only like an hour."

With a deep breath, you push yourself away from the window and quickly put on your coat.

Then, you take his hand, feeling the familiar spark of his touch that always both sends your heart racing and calms you down, and he helps you down onto the grass. The air is cool, but not too cold.

When he kisses you, for a brief moment, you let yourself forget the dangers, forget the secrets you’re keeping, and just breathe in the fresh air before losing yourself in the taste of his mouth.

You both start walking down the street, side by side. It’s quiet at this hour, with only the distant hum of streetlights and the occasional rustle of leaves in the trees. You can’t hold his hand like this during the day, can’t show him affection without worrying about someone seeing. But here, in the night, you’re free.

The walk is slow, peaceful. You don’t need to speak; just being together is enough.

You point to a group of stars in the sky, and Noah, pretending to know the constellations, starts making up their names, causing you to burst out laughing.

Then, out of nowhere, a small, scruffy cat darts across the road, stopping near a mailbox. Noah’s eyes light up in amusement, and he immediately drops to one knee, his smile softening.

“Oh my god,” he says, practically cooing. “Look at this little guy.” His voice drops to a teasing whisper as he holds out a hand to the cat. “You are the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, aren’t you?”

"Hey!"

"You are the cutest thing I’ve ever seen after my girlfriend, aren’t you?” He corrects himself.

You laugh, bending down beside him to join in. The cat doesn’t seem to mind the attention, rubbing against Noah’s hand with a soft purr.

You both chuckle. It’s so silly, so simple, and in this moment, it feels like you’re just two people enjoying a night under the stars, not two people hiding your love.

Eventually, you both stand up, saying bye to the cat, and Noah put his arm around your shoulders, starting to walk back home, keeping your hand in his the whole time.

When you reach your window, Noah helps you back inside. He leans up against the ledge, his face so close to yours that your heart nearly stops. You can smell the faint trace of his cologne mixed with the night air, and you feel like you could stay in this moment forever.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips and you lean down the window one last time.

You smile, feeling warmth spread through you as you gently pull back. “Goodnight.”

“See you tomorrow,” he says, his voice lingering with the promise of another secret meeting.

“Yeah.” you whisper back as you smile, watching him retreat to his own window.

This was your second date outside. You were almost getting used to it.

And you loved it.

The day after, you would find out that while your brother was watching the whole extended version of The lord of the rings, he noticed that Noah left his airpods on the coffee table in the living room.

And when he suggested bringing them to his room, to avoid him thinking he lost them like last time, Jolly insisted there was no need.

He was probably already asleep.

You definitely owed Jolly a big favor.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @mathfairchild1 @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lma1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme

[carnelianfoxx]

When I was 14 (or 15?) I was thrown into a school-wide film competition. The production went fucking awful. I had never wrangled so many people together before. Since we were all freshman, we were a rowdy bunch, and most of what I recorded made little sense and was impossible to work with.

So when I sat down to edit (at my church’s computer, because I had no machine to edit with at home), I decided to turn the whole thing into a youtube poop. Funny cuts, random xD jokes, and goofy editing. I had very rudimentary knowledge of Final Cut Pro 7 and photoshop so that made things exponentially harder. I did the best I could in a trial by fire.

I keep thinking about the day I was waiting for my parents to pick me up to take me home after working on it. I thought I was going to die. The footage sucked. The editing was embarrassing. It was an extremely low point in my life. The entire school was going to see this. There were tears.

The day of the premiere, I was prepared for the worst. Why did I do this? Why did I think I could compete against the school? There were seniors who had help from their teachers. I was all alone.

But when my film played, I was no longer alone. It was a hit. Every joke landed, every goof made the student body roar with laughter, and my classmates kept looking at me as if I was a hero. Seniors asked me what software I used to make the video. The “random xD” humor was perfect. It ended up possibly being one of the happiest days of my life.

I had a recording on my iPod touch of everyone’s reactions. I watched it on repeat for a long, long time. It was the first time I was recognized for an achievement with film. I always made videos before, but never had this kind of audience, and certainly not this nice of a reception.

I didn’t win the competition, but second place isn’t bad for a freshman. Everyone laughed the hardest at mine and talked about mine the most.

The iPod recording of the student reactions is long gone now, and I would give anything to see it again. I guess I have to go forward and make new memories.

[reelovesfictionalmen]

Just some comfort.

Cross posted from my ao3. Wrote this in bed at midnight. Probably straight up trash. Reader is supposed to be in their 30s even though not mentioned.

As the head of requisitions and the lead quatermaster for Kortac you interacted with the operators regularly. Making sure they got clothes, armor, toiletries, weapons and anything else they needed for daily life and the field.

You had gained an easy comradere with many of the members.

The one who's company you enjoyed most as were honestly surprised to have was Nikto.

It had started with you noticing he rarely took himself to medical, you had asked other operators if he had taken any hits and they would confirm if he had or not.

One evening when he was returning his gear for you to catalog you noticed swelling and redness around his left eye. His eternal eye black doing little to hide any of it.

Clearing your throat you asked if you could talk to him privately.

He bristled at your request, agreeing but clearly uncomfortable.

Once in your office you asked him why he has not gone to medical for the injury he is failing to hide.

"we do not like them, they stare too long and judge us" he ground toeing at a stain on the carpet, keeping his eyes on said spot.

"what about letting me look at it? I've already taken measurements for your masks and other tac gear. I promise not to look more than needed" you offered.

Nikto met your eyes, you weren't sure if he meant to stare you down but for a moment you felt pinned, like you were a predator being sized up by another predator. Like he was seeing if he could take you down.

But, his gaze softened and he agreed.

After that day after every mission Nikto would come to you and have you see any injuries he had. Any he could tend himself he would but those he shouldn't he would let you see to.

During one painful wound stitching on brow, the fool did not want numbing, he had grabbed onto your hips firmly to ground himself. Even once you had finished he kept his grip on you. Unsure what to do you stroked his shoulders offering soothing words.

From that moment on, he would seek you out during normal work days. You would be going over a new shipment of gear and he would be there to help you move heavy things even if you had people for that job.

During down time when you would be relaxing somewhere quiet reading he would come sit by you and read too

You truly enjoyed his quiet company. You had begun to be able to decern what alter was what judging by the tone in which they spoke.

One day he returned from a mission and went about returning his gear but you were not there. One of your assistants answered his unspoken question, telling him you were in the infirmary after some heavy shelving fell on you.

He deposited his gear swiftly and all but ran to the infirmary to see you in one of the beds with one of your legs in a cast up to the thigh. When you saw him in the doorway you gave him a dopey grin having been given some morphine. He came to your bedside, even with his balaclava on you could see the furrow of his brow as he look in your very broken leg.

"I'm okay" you slurred as you smiled up at him.

"you are not. we should have been here sooner" he lamented as he reached out and stroked your face.

Later you would bame the morphine for killing your inhibitions, you leaned into his hand, holding it to your cheek with your own hand with a contented hum coming from you.

You didn't see how his eyes widened in shock at your actions nor did you when you pulled him by the arm so he was close enough to throw your arms around his neck and place a kiss to his masked cheek telling him how you are glad he's here.

His mind was a buzz. You had no idea what you're doing to him. What you've always done to him since you first took his measurements for his gear the first time you met.

So he did what felt natural. He embraced you in return. Holding you close to him as he buried his face in your neck.