#and like the other 40 things i need to post too

[fortheloveofaussiegrit]

(📷eurosport/rolex)

[ask-thearchivists]

Not a ask but I see many occasions in which askers could accidentally say the Archivists's true names:

- Asks about the Earth's moon.

- It's the only planet's natural Satellite.

Cartographer: Eeek!

- Asks about the sun's name in other languages.

- Sun, Sol, Solaris... Etc...

Curator: Eeek!

- Asks about the moon again

- Oh it has many phases! My favorite one is Crescent!

Charmer: Eeek!

- Asks about eclipse

- Oh, what I most love about the eclipse is the Penumbra in the ambience.

Coordinator: Eeeek!

XDDD Imagine that!

Yeah, I love that they're all saying "Eeek!" like a cartoon woman from the 50s seeing a mouse. XD Fun fact about Penumbra's name is that I'm pretty sure I came up with her name first and I was like "Space names, space names...is Penumbra space related? It means 'shadow' or 'darkness' right?" *googles it* "IT IS SPACE RELATED, I ALWAYS WIN!" also to make up for the lack of asks here's an EVEN OLDER picture (that I literally found by accident right before answering this) of their original designs where you can see I had different colors for Satellite and Penumbra's skin (I feel a little bit of regret about changing them, I actually like these colors more in retrospect), and THREE of them had different pronouns. The Ancient Lore. Satellite has had they/them energy since the dawn of time.

Another fun fact that I learned a few months later after googling whether console like "console table" and "to console" are spelled the same, and though they are, they have different origin words, like for instance, in "to console" the "sol" is derived from the Latin word for "soothe" which is. Solari. So that's funny and half ironic.

[fictionadventurer]

A Biltmore Christmas may be the first Hallmark movie to drive me to fanfic.

[metalcorebarbie]

it’s my birthday tomorrow, i have no plans and instead of panicking about that i feel okay, which is suspicious and i’m waiting for that ”i feel weird and kind of bad on my birthday” feeling i usually get.

[themyscirah]

This is technically a Diana's age poll but I framed it partially around Julia's rescue because that's the event I need to contextualize and whether or not Diana is a thing yet is p important for my purposes. I would keep the Pérez run and postcrisis continuity in mind when answering this bc that's when this is relevant but I'd keep in mind that even though Diana is very young there (like early 20s) we don't know I don't think if she ages differently as a child (esp as a themysciran AND being made from clay) and in some versions she is older than she looks and was made earlier

Edit: I accidentally logic-ed this out in the tags lol 🤦‍♀️but feel free to still vote however you want. Going to publish this anyway bc I think I made some good points later in my tags

[seventh-district]

this song ain’t got no right to be scratchin’ my brain as much as it does

[peapod20001]

Cracks me tf up how Ozzie is literally. He looks exactly how he did when I first drew him

[kira-akira]

What I Want You To Know About Long COVID

Well lads, I've been suffering from Long COVID for over a year now. My life is at a complete standstill. I'm 25 years old and I'm too sick to go back to school, I can't work, I had to move back in with my parents and I'm still stuck here.

Here are just a few things I wish people knew about Long COVID, including things I didn't know myself until I got it.

COVID destroys your immune system. Yes, even if you don't have Long COVID. Are you getting sick more often now? When you get sick, does it last longer? There are many studies showing that COVID causes t cell depletion, even in mild COVID cases! T cells are how your body remembers how to fight off infections you've had before so losing those cells? Bad news.

Your initial infection can be mild and you can still get Long COVID. Right from Yale Medicine, "Most people with Long COVID had mild acute COVID." (This is also a good link for a basic Long COVID overview).

There can be a gap of time between when you "get better" from the initial COVID infection to the onset of Long COVID symptoms. Some people get sick with an initial COVID infection and never get better. Some get better and then weeks or months later start developing Long COVID symptoms. Long COVID symptoms can even fluctuate over time, can go away for months and then suddenly come back.

So many people have Long COVID and don't realize it. Do you feel more tired lately but no matter how much you sleep, nothing helps? Is it harder to concentrate at work or school? Can you just not think like you used to? You could have Long COVID and not even know it. Even mild post-COVID symptoms are still Long COVID.

COVID can do anything to your body. Long COVID has over 200 recognized symptoms and can affect basically any part or system of your body. There is no one mechanism or cause of Long COVID which unfortunately also means there's no one cure either.

The effects of COVID are cumulative. Each COVID reinfection increases your chances of developing Long COVID. COVID is also affecting your body in other ways, yes, even if you're otherwise young and healthy! "Repeat COVID-19 infections increase risk of organ failure, death".

Once you have Long COVID, repeat COVID infections will make your symptoms worse. "80% [of Long COVID patients] saw their symptoms worsen [from reinfection]. In 60% of people who were in recovery or remission from Long COVID, reinfection caused a recurrence of Long COVID."

There is a lot more I want to say about Long COVID but I want to keep this post at least somewhat manageable to read. Like how when COVID is contracted during pregnancy, those COVID-exposed fetuses have a 6.3-fold increased risk of motor developmental delays, or that another study found 50% of babies exposed to COVID in utero had developmental delays.

You need to keep caring about COVID, for others around you and also for yourself even if you're "healthy". Everyone is at risk. And don't forget 40-60% of COVID infections are asymptomatic, which is why masking even if you feel fine is crucial. The only way right now to not get Long COVID is to not get COVID in the first place. It's not too late, if you've stopped masking it's never too late to start again! I know it's easy to get distracted by things in your life that seem more real than the possibility of getting sick some time in the future, and the peer pressure to not mask can be intense. But it only feels less real or less important until your entire life is having Long COVID. Trust me.

I know this is a complicated issue, many people can't afford to stay home when sick even if they want to because of their jobs, there are disgusting policies trying to ban wearing masks, but please if you can. Keep masking. Masking works, masking saves lives.

This post got a bit longer than I wanted so below the cut is a non-exhaustive list of my Long COVID symptoms and some of my experiences as one of the "healthy young people" who got "unlucky". cw brief mention of suicidal ideation.

Welcome to the Thunderdome that is my body with Long COVID. Keep in mind these are just my experiences and symptoms, Long COVID can cause any range of symptoms at varying severities.

Dysautonomia: Exercise intolerance, Post-Exertional Malaise (PEM), fatigue, and heat intolerance. What do those things mean? Here's some specific examples. Absolutely terrible circulation I am so cold all the time but also, if I get a little too warm I will pass out. Eating hot food makes my heart rate spike, I sweat, my body feels heavy. Blood pooling and pins and needles in my feet when I walk. Don't even think about exercising past walking, it's impossible. I used to work out an hour a day 4 times a week and now walking up one flight of stairs makes my heart pound and I can't breathe. Can't take even just warm showers anymore or I will pass out. Heat rashes from being in the sun for 10 minutes.

Digestive issues: Honestly too many to name but: constant bloating, extreme nausea, constipation, slow motility, lack of appetite, just so much cramping and pain. I lost 18 pounds from Long COVID, as someone who was already considered underweight their entire life, and almost had to get a shunt put into my chest to deliver nutrients because I was nearly completely unable to eat. For the first 6 months of Long COVID, if I could manage 600 calories a day, that was a good day.

Histamine intolerance: Oh boy. My worst symptoms, I don't even know where to start with it. If you know Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS) it's very similar. I can only eat 19 foods. If i eat a single bite of something not on that list, it's 48 hours of absolute hell. Coughing, migraines, itchy eyes, such extreme nausea I cannot even describe it, panic/feeling of doom, racing heart rate, derealization, rash, uncontrollable muscle tremors. I only learned about histamine intolerance 5 months into having Long COVID so before that, I was experiencing these symptoms nearly every single day. Terrifying isn't even a strong enough word to describe how it felt to experience all this and have no idea what it was, how to stop it, or if it would ever stop. Really dark times.

Neurological issues: More of that derealization. Inability to concentrate. Anxiety. OCD-like symptoms such as thoughts getting "stuck" in my head, repeating 24/7 completely unable to stop them, genuinely felt like my brain had cracked open and I had lost my mind. Constant dizziness like I'm on a boat.

Sleep issues: I sleep like garbage. I have insomnia, I wake up dozens of times every night and every single time I sleep I have intensely vivid dreams. I can't sleep longer than 7 hours total no matter how exhausted I am. It is exhausting. I'm exhausted, I'm so so tired.

And finally. Just. Really intense suicidal ideation. My body, my health, my entire life has been stolen from me because someone else decided my life was worth less to them than wearing a mask or staying home if they feel sick. Before I got Long COVID, I was preparing to go to South Korea to teach English, then on to a PhD in neurolinguistics, I was supposed to meet my long distance partner and had already booked plane tickets when I got sick. All of that has been destroyed.

Most of us with Long COVID are stuck in a cycle of being extremely sick, then if you're lucky you'll slowly get better over months, just to get reinfected and go right back where you started or worse. Honestly, I'm not scared of dying from COVID. I'm scared of living for a long time, suffering from Long COVID the entire time. This isn't living.

I don't know how to end this now. I'm still fighting, I'm trying experimental treatments, I'm not giving up yet. I hope everyone reading this stays healthy and well.

[getvalentined]

An open letter to @staff

I already submitted this to Support under "Feedback," but I'm sharing it here too as I don't expect it to get a response, and I feel like putting in out in public may be more effective than sending it off into the void.

The recent post on the Staff blog about changing tumblr to an algorithmic feed features a large amount of misinformation that I feel staff needs to address, openly and honestly, with information on where this data was sourced at the very least.

Claim 1: Algorithms help small creators.

This is false, as algorithms are designed to push content that gets engagement in order to get it more engagement, thereby assuring that the popular remain popular and the small remain small except in instances of extreme luck.

This can already be seen on the tumblr radar, which is a combination of staff picks (usually the same half-dozen fandoms or niche special interests like Lego photography) which already have a ton of engagement, or posts that are getting enough engagement to hit the radar organically. Tumblr has an algorithm that runs like every other socmed algorithm on the planet, and it will decimate the reach of small creators just like every other platform before it.

Claim 2: Only a small portion of users utilize the chronological feed.

You can find a poll by user @darkwood-sleddog here that at the time of writing this, sits at over 40 THOUSAND responses showing that over 96 percent of them use the chronological feed*. Claiming otherwise isn't just a misstatement, it's a lie. You are lying to your core userbase and expecting them to accept it as fact. It's not just unethical, it's insulting to people who have been supporting your platform for over a decade.

Claim 3: Tumblr is not easy to use.

This is also 100% false and you ABSOLUTELY know it. Tumblr is EXTREMELY easy to use, the issue is that the documentation, the explanations of features, and often even the stability of the service is subpar. All of this would be very easy for staff to fix, if they would invest in the creation of walkthroughs and clear explanations of how various site features work, as well as finally fixing the search function. Your inability to explain how your service works should not result in completely ignoring the needs and wants of your core long-term userbase. The fact that you're more willing to invest in the very systems that have made every other form of social media so horrifically toxic than in trying to make it easier for people to use the service AS IT WORKS NOW and fixing the parts that don't work as well speaks volumes toward what tumblr staff actually cares about.

You will not get a paycheck if your platform becomes defunct, and the thing that makes it special right now is that it is the ONLY large-scale socmed platform on THE ENTIRE INTERNET with a true chronological feed and no aggressive algorithmic content serving. The recent post from staff indicates that you are going to kill that, and are insisting that it's what we want. It is not. I'd hazard to guess that most of the dev team knows it isn't what we want, but I assume the money people don't care. The user base isn't relevant, just how much money they can bring in.

The CEO stated he wanted this to remain as sort of the last bastion of the Old Internet, and yet here we are, watching you declare you intend to burn it to the ground.

You can do so much better than this.

Response to the Update

Under the cut for readability, because everything said above still applies.

I already said this in a reblog on the post itself, but I'm adding it to this one for easy access: people read it that way because that's what you said.

Staff considers the main feed as it exists to be "outdated," to the point that you literally used that word to describe it, and the main goals expressed in this announcement is to figure out what makes "high-quality content" and serve that to users moving forward.

People read it that way because that is what you said.

*The final results of the poll, after 24 hours:

136,635 votes breaks down thusly:

An algorithm based feed where I get "the best of tumblr." @ 1.3% (roughly 1,776 votes)

Chronological feed that only features blogs I follow. @ 95.2% (roughly 130,077 votes)

This doesn't affect me personally. @ 3.5% (roughly 4,782 votes)

[zosan-secondchances]

The Pirate King of the North

Main Themes: Villain Sanji, Alternate Universe, Zosan Ship

AU where Straw Hat Pirates meet old Sanji from a reality where Reiju didn't have emotions.

Warning: Long post ahead and some One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Young Zoro hates the fucker but those scars and piercings are doing a number to his soul.

Old Sanji's story goes like this:

He didn't experience compassion from anyone else aside from his mother, who--you know what happened.

Judge kept him locked away until he was 13. He had him released when he was deemed too broken to do anything, and he was apparently a waste of space. As far as the world was concerned, he was already dead. He gets left behind at some random pirate town in the North.

His swirly brows were recognized by the pirates who took him in--only for him to be enslaved because people would pay a lot to have their way with royalty.

He picked up some skills from the other slaves and became cunning af--because he had to be.

At 17 he started a revolt against the slaver pirates, effectively taking over as their new pirate captain.

He became the feared "Mr. Prince" and his words are as sharp as his bite.

He's underweight because he doesn't give two shits about good food.

"The All Blue? It's nothing but an old fishwive's tale," he says.

He used his cunning mind and new pirate crew to hunt down and kill his own father from the shadows.

He enslaved his own siblings and becomes the new ruler of Germa Kingdom. Over the years, he used them for warfare and expanded the territory of the North.

His heart is a bottomless pit for power and control.

He had a fling or two or several with is closely allied with Doflamingo because god damn they're both mad like that. The alliance eventually lead to direct connections with Celestial Dragons.

Sanji gains more power and becomes the notorious "Pirate King of the North"

Meanwhile at the other side of the world, Luffy didn't make it as far as he could have without a good cook.

Luffy would have recruited one from Baratie but the restaurant was absolutely destroyed before the smaller Straw Hat crew could make a difference. Some of the staff didn't make it.

Zoro left the crew when it fell apart at some point.

Due to Zoro's reputation and bounty that he had occurred during his limited time with Luffy, he was offered a position as a Warlord, ultimately taking over the late Jinbe's old role. He accepted and served for several years before he was assigned a job that he didn't know would be the most challenging one yet.

The Celestial Dragons didn't like the fact that Sanji had started to have more worldly control over their own, so Zoro was quietly assigned to hunt down the great Pirate King of the North. Zoro accepted because he felt that he needed more experience before he could take on Mihawk again.

Zoro quickly realised that this mission is not a walk in the park.

Sanji loves toying with the Demon Warlord so he insists on taking him on by himself.

It becomes an endless game of cat and mouse. Sometimes Sanji chases and sometimes he runs, sometimes he wins and sometimes he loses.

They're at each others' throats everywhere in the world. Any person, city or being of any kind that gets in the way usually gets torn apart in the chaos. The hunt goes on for a lifetime. They're currently in their 40's.

Zoro severs Sanji's left arm during one huge fight.

Because of this, Sanji relentlessly tries to get Zoro to marry him to use him in so many ways he can think of--both as an asset and under the sheets--oh the things that he wants the swordsman to do and beg for.

Sanji likes to refer to the tiniest scar on his lip as "Zoro's love bite"

He was about to get a nice fresh one on his chest when some fuckers teleported him away.

Hearing old Sanji's backstory was a bit much. It was young Zoro's turn to have a nosebleed that day.

----------

Oh yes I had fun drawing old silver fox, damaged Sanji. I wish I have the time to colour it up. I've also been very much into reading AU stories, especially soul brand ones. Keep them coming, you beautiful people.

Edit: Woo! I finally decided to make my own AO3 account. It's about time. Link here for the story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60686077

[fashion-runways]

hi!! new pinned post, because the last one had gotten long again-- if you want to read previous posts, here's the first one, here's the second one. the tl;dr from those is that my dad got wrongfully imprisoned abruptly, our place was raided, the cops broke a bunch of shit and took a bunch of our things and still haven't returned them, they left all the broken things for us to spend money in repairing, we had to spend money on a lawyer, trips to visit him, new clothes, medicine and food for him in jail, etc. it was a mess, way more details in both posts. he's back home now, with an ankle monitor because technically his case isn't being investigated yet, they haven't done anything about it at all, the case hasn't moved one ounce lmao it's great, always trust the judicial system and cops!! ugh, anyway!

we found a therapist for my dad who can help her deal with all the stuff he had to deal with while in prison, all the bullying, the depression, the starving, the separation, etc. he needs to get a bunch of other medical appointments, has to get surgery, among other things, but for now things are much better on that front. that being said, he did lose his job and my old redbubble account got suspended without a warning months ago, plus argentina's economy is... really bad right now. food prices rise every day, public transportation prices went up like a 200% in a couple of weeks, salaries are low and stuck there, subsidies are gone, the local peso keeps falling, we have an absolute psychopath as a president who spends more time insulting or threatening anyone who oppose him than caring about people. it's a disaster. for updates on argentina in english, this person on twitter makes very good informative threads if you're interested.

anyway, i used to make around 30/40 dollars a month in redbubble, and that used to help adding up to the donations i got here, and it got suspended, so now i make like 1/2 dollars on teepublic monthly. so... it's a huge loss. there's a lot of things me and my mom are in charge of paying-- groceries, power and water and gas, medicine (she's diabetic, i have some sort of chronic sinusitis), our dog and cat's food and medicines, wifi, phone bills, public transportation, healthcare, my dad's new therapist... so, you know, i really need anything people can donate. even if it's just a single dollar, literally any amount helps. i love fashion so much and i love this blog, i work really hard on it even when my brain says no, and i really appreciate how much you guys love it too. i love seeing people discover new styles, new designers, new things to be inspired by. so, yeah... i'm never going anywhere, but i do need help to basically stay afloat.

as usual, my kofi link is this one: https://ko-fi.com/fashionrunways and my teepublic link is this one: https://www.teepublic.com/user/dinah-lance. thanks for being around and sharing and reblogging my posts, thanks for asking questions about fashion, and of course thanks for helping to the ones who can, and thanks to the ones who can't too, i know how that feels like, don't worry about it. love you 💖

[joelmillerisapunk]

Vicious

Dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist ★ Wordcount: 1.8k

📽 —★ Summary: In the quiet solitude of your own home, you revel in the rare freedom of an empty house, indulging in forbidden pleasures on a hot summer day. The unexpected arrival of your dads buddy Joel turns your casual rebellion into something far more thrilling.

📽 —★ Warnings: 18+, mdni, reader is in college but is called a "school girl", wears a uniform that has a skirt. Joel and reader are both kinda assholes to each other. Mentions of smoking cigarettes and drinking beer, age gap (reader is early 20's, Joel is whatever you would like but in my mind 40's or older) p in v, uses of slut and whore, in this world and my daydreams Joel is able to get off multiple times without a break (I am not going for supreme accuracy I am going for porn), if I missed anything please let me know

📽 —★ Notes: Hello, welcome to my comeback fic. Please note that I am very rusty since posting my last fic in July 🫠 but I am very excited to be back writing, reading and posting once again! I hope you enjoy. I've missed being here with all you lovely humans so much 🥹

📽 —★ A big thank you to my wonderful friends for reading/hyping me: @milla-frenchy @evolnoomym @thundermartini and @syd-djarin who also helped me with the mood board 💋 love you all so much. And of course @saradika-graphics for the lovely divider

“I’m home!” you shout the second you walk in the door. Dead silent, no response. You shrug as you make your way to your room but pause halfway up the stairs. No one. That means you can do whatever the hell you want. You walk back down, throwing your backpack to the floor an head to the kitchen, grabbing one of your dad's beers from the fridge, taking it out to the deck. You retrieve your hidden cigarette pack taped beneath the table outside. You grab a cigarette and light it up as you lean back in the chair, opening your legs until your feet rest on either side of the lawnchair. After a stressful day at school, you need some kind of relief. Plus, your schoolgirl uniform is much too uncomfortable on a hot summer day, causing you to undo the top few buttons of your white blouse, allowing the small but cool breeze to graze your exposed skin.

“I always thought you were a bit of a slut.”

You look up to see your dad’s buddy Joel leaning in the doorway, a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth as well. Instead of jumping up, snapping your legs shut, or covering your chest, you give him the finger. That guy can go fuck himself.

“And so polite too.”

“Joel, the last thing I need right now is you and your opinion. School sucked, and I don’t give a shit what you think of me.”

“Christ, kid, I was only fucking with you. I mean, you do look trashy as hell, but that’s okay. I like trashy.”

“Are you hitting on me now? Really? You’re like seventy.”

“Try again sweetheart,” he says, stepping out onto the deck. You try to ignore him as he walks closer until he stops directly in front of you.

“You like the view, asshole?”

“I don’t know,” he says, leaning down and tilting his head. “I wouldn’t have guessed white. I mean, you don’t seem like the innocent type. More like a black satin sort of girl.”

“Oh, don’t you know?” you reply, taking a drag from your cigarette. “We have to wear white panties too. They check us every morning. We line up in a row, and they make us lift our skirts so they can see what we have on under them.”

“I’ll have to see if they have any openings. Sounds like a good job.”

“Oh fuck you. Besides, you wouldn’t know what to do with one of us, let alone three hundred.”

The bastard sinks down until he’s squatting in front of your now wet panties, still smoking as he admires the view. You finally reach down, open your legs wider, and give him the finger with your hand right in front of your cunt. If he wants to look, he can fucking look at that.

“If you didn’t want me, you’d be in the house already instead of sitting there with those pretty legs open.”

“Is that what you think?” you ask, trembling in spite of yourself. He’s a huge dick, but he’s also right. You do like teasing him, and the thought of him going home and jerking off over you is fun.

“I know it,” he says, sitting down at the bottom of the chair.

“And what would you do with a girl like me? I’ve probably had more sex than you’ll ever have. Better sex too.”

“What, with some stupid school boy who fucks like a jackhammer, hoping he’s found the right hole?”

You look at him, rolling your eyes and shaking your head before butting your cigarette.

“Why don’tcha unbutton that shirt some more? Let me see how you’ve filled out.”

“Jesus Christ. What do you think my dad would say if he saw you eyeing his daughter up and down like a piece of meat?”

“What do you think he’d do if he saw you sitting here spread eagle, smoking a cigarette and drinking his beer? His sweet little angel, showin’ off for his friend?" he responds playfully, raising his eyebrows.

You sit up in the chair, never breaking his gaze as you undo the next two buttons of your blouse, revealing your naked chest.

“You’re not going to do a thing,” you say, reaching down and opening your shirt just enough for him to get a glimpse. “You’re going to sit there and drool over my body.”

“Is that whatcha think?” he chuckles. “What's actually going to happen is that I'm going to bend you over and fuck you until you cry.”

“You’d probably come the second you got a glimpse of my pussy. I bet you’re so hard right now you can barely think."

“Try me,” he says, moving up between your legs. His hand now under your skirt.

“Let go and I’ll show you,” you say, your voice nearly catching in your throat. He moves his hand in an instant. You reach down, gently touching the lips around your clit through the thin white fabric. Joel watches the entire time, never taking his eyes off of your hand. “Is this what you want?” you say, pulling the white cotton to one side, exposing your pussy to his greedy eyes.

“It’s a start,” he replies as he moves closer. He lifts your legs up over his knees. You are silent as he unzips his pants, and as much as you try not to watch, you can’t help yourself. He reaches in, and in one fluid motion, his cock juts out of his boxers.

“Jesus,” you say as he begins to stroke himself slowly. He’s only partially hard, but his cock is big and thick, and you are on dangerous ground.

“Just like those high school boys?” he asks, reaching out, grabbing you around the waist. Before you can protest, he pulls you up onto his lap, his hard cock stuck between your pussy and his stomach. His other hand joins the first until his fingers dig into the cheeks of your ass. His face is inches from you.

“You don’t have the nerve,” you say, not willing to look away.

Joel wastes no time as he tears your blouse open, the last remaining buttons flying off as he pulls it down over your shoulders, your bare breasts now fully visible. He tugs it down even further until it slides off your arms, leaving you topless.

“I’m going to fuck you, baby. I’m going to push those panties to one side, shove my big cock in you, and then listen to you scream.”

“I’ll tell my dad,” you whisper.

“No you won’t,” he says, sliding his hand all the way beneath you. As he holds you tight, he slips his fingers beneath your panties and then inside your now soaking wet pussy, working them in and out for a few seconds before bringing his hand up to your mouth and pushing his fingers between your lips. You gladly lick your excitement off his thick digits, feeling his large cock grow against you.

“You’re going to come in seconds," you whisper. “If you even make it inside me. You have no idea how sweet my little cunt is."

“Guess we’ll have to find out. But first, let’s see if you’re right, or if you’re just a filthy little slut who needs another dick.”

Before you can think of a response, he lifts you up, pushing your panties to one side, and then guides his large cock into you. In one swift motion, he’s deep inside of you, and you are on his lap. You try to suppress a moan as he pulls you closer.

“You knew this was going to happen the second you saw me. And so did I,” he adds.

He begins to move slowly, feeling him slide in and out of you each time you tighten your grip. Fuck, he feels good; his cock hitting your walls in all the right places. It’s not fair.

“And you’re a whore,” he says, moving his mouth down your chin, making his way down your neck.

“You’re an asshole,” you mutter, causing him to thrust harder.

“Which is why you’re letting me fuck you.” His hands run through your hair, gripping it in his hand as he continues to fuck you. You moan louder, trying to hold back a scream as his fingers grip tighter and tighter around your hair. You can feel his balls throbbing against you as his breath quickens. You are on fire as his cock pumps into your wet, hot, sensitive pussy, causing both of you to groan loudly. You can tell he’s close to his own release; you can feel your pussy convulsing, and you start moving on him harder. He grabs your hips, holding you still as he pounds himself into you. His balls clench tight as he groans loudly in ecstasy, his breath harsh with lust. His climax soon follows after, rope after rope of hot liquid exploding inside of you. He stays buried inside of you as the orgasm takes over him completely. After a few moments of catching his breath, Joel looks at you and mutters between breaths, "Just because I came doesn’t mean I’m done with you.”

And then he pulls out of you, flipping you over, pushing you down onto the deck chair and your panties to the side so you can feel him against you, his cock still dripping. But then, somehow, he’s back inside of you, fucking you into the fabric of the chair. “You might be cute, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop.”

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, feeling his weight against you, pinning you down. When he reaches an arm around your neck, you begin to moan. Oh god, don’t stop Joel. Don’t stop fucking me; I’m gonna come.”

“That’s right, baby. Come for me. Come like the little slut you are.”

“Fuck!” you cry out, feeling yourself let go completely. You shake and tremble as you clench around him. His breath picks up as he’s close to his own orgasm.

“I’m going to come in this pussy one more time.”

“No!” you beg, needing to at least pretend to resist when in fact you don't want this to ever end. The thought of him coming in you again makes your pussy tighten in anticipation. Then finally, when it seems he won't ever come inside of you, he does. Your entire body begins trembling, fighting against another orgasm. As you feel him pull out of you, he turns you over, putting his hand in your panties and cupping your cheek. Your eyes open wide, and you can feel the warm liquid dripping from your thighs. He looks down at his own cock. It too has started to twitch.

“Look at the mess you made," he whispers, placing the tip of his cock into the wetness. "You'd better clean this up before someone sees. You're going to lick every drop,” he commands. You nod. "Good girl."

As you place kisses along his cock, licking away any remaining semen, Joel watches in amusement. You stand up, looking up at him.

“Are you satisfied?" you ask.

“For now," he smirks, turning towards the house. "See ya tomorrow." With that, he goes up the porch steps, his back to you and makes his way home, only to be back tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after.

[thebibliosphere]

I was already on a hair trigger today trying not to snap at a mutual for reblogging a "fuck authors who use Amazon" post, but, like, this shit is why some authors can only afford to use Amazon.

They don't have the $75+ to distribute through Ingram Spark. They don't have the $25 it takes to change your files if you need to update them after they've been accepted. They can't afford to take the cost of printing hit to their sales. They can't afford to lose an additional 40% of their income to retailer discounts.

And just so we're clear, Ingram isn't a vanity publisher. They're one of the largest print monopolies in the world. They're used by most mainstream traditional publishers and indie and self-pub authors alike. Amazon uses them when their print demand is too high.

My friend, whose work is published by Gollancz, is printed through Ingram, the same as mine. The difference is their publisher takes the hit for them. In theory. We won't get into dwindling advances here or how publishers are increasingly putting the onus of marketing and sales onto their authors or the fact that their editors can't afford rent or food while the executives get richer and richer.

So what do you do when the mainstream doesn't want you? What do you do when you're told if you can't keep up with the rat race, that you don't deserve to have your work published? What do you do if all you have is the ability to tell stories for a living, and no one wants you?

Well, you could die of starvation. I'm sure there are several people on here who'd be happy if that happened to me. (I know. Because they tell me. Often.) Or, you can shake hands with the devil, knowing it's a bum deal, knowing everything is fucked, but also knowing that every other aspect of this fucking industry is just as fucking bad.

There's no escape. It's relentless.

And you've got people out there posting things like, "Actually, I think authors who charge for their books are part of the problem."

And yeah, in an ideal world, I'd be making art for art's sake.

But we're not in that world. We're in the bad place, and you're actively making it worse. You're encouraging people to steal from people who are struggling just like you and calling it activism against billionaires or putting them in the same moral category as said billionaires as though we're not trapped in this system, same as you. Some of you are fellow fucking authors. And, like, my mind boggles at what it would take to stab a fellow creative in the back like that, but here we are.

Hell world.

[shotofstress]

Coming back after being almost a week without electricity, phone, and internet connection. Huge storms with lightning and rain, and winds. We have never have winds like that here and the roof of so many houses were ripped off, stuff flying, etc. All this bc global warming, and the deforestation and mining in our lands. At this rate, in 5 years we will have tornadoes, a thing we have never ever have here. Nor our lands, infrastructures, states, and culture are prepared for this. Areas of the country are devastated, ppl have died, many are without electricity nor Internet connection so they are isolated. The houses are flooding with water, and the ones that not, are leaking from the ceiling. Too many neighbours and compatriots don't have roofs and the streets are full of fallen trees and pieces of roof material, no electricity, no signal, food rotting, but suffering at the same time for the cold of this terrible winter, and trying to do something, patching even when its gonna go to hell when the storm comes again this next days. More than 33,200 people affected and 41,500 isolated due to 5 days of rain and windstorms. In just a couple of days there were 170,000 homes left without power due to wind and rainstorms and even more as time went by.

If u want to help me to fix the roof, walls, to buy food and being warm this winter please check my PayPal. If u can't donate, please reblog bc thats the only way to make this being seen by ppl thus receiving help. I'm really not being able to keep living like this, i can no longer cope, so please share.

Here are in my PayPal or MACH . I took the kofi link bc they were charging me a fee.

Please, educate about global warming and the effects on Global South, specially for working class, chronically ill, autistic, disable, and long covid survivor ppl like myself.

Edit: I added links and pics

Edit: the weather is better (is finally spring at this current date 24th nov), but I still need to fix were I live/sleep bc the walls are broken and one of the walls is not a wall, but like 1cm wide stuff and all was bad build so even the door is twisted and dont work correctly, there is black mold that i think is damaging my ears, the paint is falling, the lamp has fallen, everything is broken and ugly, etc. I still need to buy food, meds, and everything so please, please, share or donate if you could. I don't want to survive like this and here, no one mask even when they were the ones giving me covid and they have making me also catch flu the other day bc they cogh over everything and don't care if they kill me, they are abusive and really violent people and are working to put me and everyone in danger. I dont even want to be in my country bc we will have a dictatorship soon, but I have nowhere else to go nor money to migrate (i need like $10.537 dollars or € 9.760,95 euros to pay all the documents, the bank money I have to show to prove I am a human being deserver of rights, the tickets, rent money and stuff to migrate).

I currently have $100 dollars donated (coz i spent 40 in food and meds this past month)

I know i will die here, but at least help me to survive in a less dehumanising way.

Edit: tumblr has blocked me from recive or send messages from the chat and comment of posts, so if you are trying to reach throughout there I can't see it, sorry, I'm cut from any communication (cant even see past messages from chat or asks), except send asks. I'm waiting that tumblr do something, but still hasn't even answered the help file I sent to them.

[tzihomara]

SWEET AS EVER. . . ‧₊˚ ⋅

— look’s like you’re in luck! , your hot neighbor has a sweet tooth..

wc. 3.2k, mdni | fem!reader, breèding, squīrtinġ, clichè trope, age gap, reader early-mid 20s, nanami late-early 30s-40s, creampíe, coúntersex, ditzy!reader, neighbor!nanami, changing relationship, not proofread.

an; first post back yayyy, im so excited i have so many ideas, & nanami seems soo much like the type to think about marriage after this thing, not in a childish way but in a really serious one LOL

recently moving in to the new flat you got was possibly the best thing to happen to you. quiet, spacey, and most importantly having a hot neighbor like kento nanami, who you’ve made yourself quite familiar with over the month’s you’ve settled in, was perfect.

alway’s willing to lend a hand for his sweet neighbor, despite his busy schedule. opening the door every time. and for you, time and time again, appearing in front of his door in less than appropriate outfit’s, subtly leaning into him. a tilt of your head and a cute little pout. batting your eyelash’s at him, making your plea for help, whether it be with putting something together, or a jar too tight.

this time was no different, having bought a new piece of furniture in need of his “help”, why risk lifting your pretty little fingers when you had him? swiftly walking a few doors down, till you see the familiar small hanging plants outside of his door you’ve come to associate with him, giving your signature 4 knock’s.

and per usual, he answer’s. slowly opening up the door, a broad shoulder nudged into the corner of the frame, tensed by the sound yet slowly relaxing when his eyes land to none other than you, looking right down at you. and not just your face. clenching his jaw, the outfit you had thoughtlessly put together gave him a view that left little to the imagination. tiny shorts squeezing your hip’s and thigh’s. tank top with a dangerously low cut. sandal wedges flaunting your newly manicured toes. ochre eye’s narrowing into weary slit’s.

“is there something you need?”, he sighed. keeping that indifferent, stoic manner. never faltering it seems..until it came to you, atleast.

“mnn.. i was ‘jus wondering if you could give a little help putting together a nightstand f’me?” you pleaded, sweetly. a glint of eagerness in those big eye’s of your’s, ones on display for him. ”could bake ya some sweets. as a thank’s for the ‘hard work’, if you’d like mr. nanami.”, you offer, with a tiny grin. leaning in too close to him, your plump bust in his view. an eyeful if you will. the stoic demeanor you’ve come to love to crack wavering just a tad. eye’s narrowing at your proximity. “of course, i can help.” he spoke lowly, deep voice slightly on edge. “no need for sweet’s.” he declined, not wanting to inconvenience you. and you let out a pleasant giggle, always getting your way when it come’s down to him, and anybody else really, who wouldn’t be a sucker for you? “awwh, thank’s. you’re just the best, mr. nanami.” exclaiming, before subtly pouting at his additional rejection. “oh..- are you sure about the sweets? i’ll feel all guilty if i don’t repay you with something. anything ya want.”

he bit the inside of his cheek at your word’s, gnawing even. avoiding the internal debate if the implication behind your words were purposely terribly hidden, or if he was getting ahead of himself.

taking a deep breath, he sighed. “no.., really it's alright. i don't need anything, i appreciate your offer.”, and it’s enough for you to temporarily accept his word’s. with a swift nod and hum, you two were already headed in the direction of your flat, entering the passcode on your door. hearing the familiar beep granting you two entry, gently closing the door behind him. the sharp and weary gaze that was beginning to soften, lingering on the chub of your hip’s. damn those shorts. internally chiding himself and shaking his head. focusing instead on the already scattered piece’s of the nightstand on your table, in a poor attempt at organization, if you could even call it that. it didn’t look that complicated. but for a ‘ditz’ like you, it was way too much. “make yourself at home.”, you commented, familiar set of word’s falling from your lip’s, guiding him over to take a seat. like times before.

nanami sat at the table, eyes flickering between the nightstand pieces, and back to your sweet grin. it was challenging to focus on the task at hand when you’re right there. alway’s. a constant distraction for the older man. chin propped by your palm, wide eye’s watching him already. a sweet, soft hum, filling he silence. larger, rougher hand’s handling the piece’s of the stand, pay attention to everydetail. and occasionally the stand pieces that you could careless about when you had him in your dining room. haphazardly switching between the two. eyeing the few veins running from his hands down to his forearms. button up rolled to his elbow’s. thick finger’s navigating without instruction’s fluidly. it was attractive. looking at a man who knows what he’s doing would always be a sight that could put anyone in a trance, and you weren’t the exception. crossing your leg’s at the slight need forming at your core, nudging it away or possibly egging it on.

“you’re pretty skilled with your hands, mr. nanami..”, you commented, more for yourself, rather than stating a fact. a touch of admiration in your tone, something a bit more intense than mere “interest” hanging off your words. clenching his jaw tightly, with a quiet swallow. “years of experience,” he replied, a slight rasp in his voice. “you pick up a thing or two over time.” he added. his eye’s flickering to meet yours, and back down again. “oh?, i see.” you mumbled back softly, eye’s attentively watching his hand’s. traveling, roaming over to his forearm’s, all the way up to his bicep’s. thick and muscular, tightly fitting in his collared shirt. on perfect display. squeezing your thigh’s just a little tighter together. the only thing that seemed to break the more than ‘heavy’ silence between you two, was a lose screw rolling off the table with a little clink. your eyes shifting to it with disinterest, but a quick opportunity in your mind. “whoop’s. i’ll get that f’ya..” you blurt out, uncrossing your leg’s and bending over in your seat to reach. unintentionally displaying that cute, frilly, thong you just bought on a shopping spree. he had to stifle a groan. clenching the wood of the nightstand in his palm. with a sigh, murmuring a “thanks.” a man could only resist so much.

internally chiding himself for even looking, returning to the task at hand, trying to forget what he just saw. furrowed dirty blonde brows pinched together, the age gap between the two of you making him feel just.. particularly guilty. but not too guilty to stop him from letting something escalate. silently letting his thoughts wonder, while you mumble out a “mhm.” your eye’s back to being fixed on his every move. "almost done," he informed, tightening any loose screw’s on the mostly done stand. big eyes narrowing. “oh-, already?..” you slighty frown, a soft hum following. putting together the last piece’s of your stand, skillfully. letting out a sigh at the finished result, “there…, finished up. should be fine,” he announced. his body thrumming with a slight arousal, and tension. despite his indifference, it betrayed the whirling sensation’s internally. a hand of his rubbing down his face, pinching the bride of his nose. and you notice the slight difference in his demeanor. “something th’matter?, mr. nanami?” you ask, with a touch of concern. you two both knew what you were doing. you two were both adults, it’s not like either of you are clueless. and maybe that was the best part. the looks you’ve been giving him, the outfits, everything. an air of thick, deafening, silence between you both. his narrowed bronze eyes meeting your own, brows furrowed deeper than before. the look alone made you shiver.

you couldn’t tell how it happened, and you didn’t really care either. your attention was entirely elsewhere, and all you knew is that the tension added up, and here you were. shorts, and the same pretty thong you flashed him, dangling off your ankle. nanami had you on the counter of your kitchen, the hand’s that were putting together your nightstand, spreading your thigh’s apart as if he was handling a delicate flower, tender and gentle. careful not to break you just yet. lapping at your fold’s, with a tiny hand belonging to you tugging a fistful of dirty blonde strands that belonged to him. nose, lips, and chin sheen with your slick. clit rubbing just right against his pretty sculpted nose. tired eye’s focused on the treat infront of him. letting out a raspy groan into your cunt with every tug and squeeze of your thighs. deep voice creating a soft hum against your weak spot. tugging just a little harder at his hair, dragging his face all over your sopping cunt, as if you just couldn’t get enough of him. tiny whines, and greedy moans falling right past your lips. and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his cock ache in his pants. straining against the fabric of his briefs, subtly seeking friction through that strain. precum staining through the fabric. like a teenager, it’s been a long time since he’s felt this way, a man like him was never into one nightstands, or hookups. the type to want to settle and marry, not please his neighbor. but this time, he just had to taste.

continuing to practically ride his face, having him on his knee’s for you. you were just so close, yanking him up by his hair, pretty pouty expression on your face, mixed with need. a tiny whine escaping, his mouth skillfully moving back to your clit, pressing opened mouth, down right filthy kisses to it. sucking and nibbling, tired, yet slightly adoring eye’s holding eye contact with you. it made your tummy flutter. that tingly sensation that felt oh’ so good building up. rolling your hip’s needily, —impatiently, into his face. mewls gradually building up and escaping from your plumped lips you had bitten previously, he was sucking on just the right spot before you felt that coil snap inside you, clenching around his tongue perfectly, squeezing him between your legs, a firm hold on your thighs to support you, and help you ride through your orgasm. lapping at your release like he was starved. veins in his hands and forearms straining, letting the fat of your thighs fill the gaps of his fingers.

merely a few minutes of catching his, and your breath. his hands were not so respectfully groping at your breasts. raspy, hot pant’s into your mouth, heaving. allowing you to taste yourself on the tip of his tongue, swirling, sucking, teasing as if he die if he’d pull away. he was given his chance, access to you and how addictive you tasted, and he needed to know how you felt. and he’d be damned if he didn’t take the chance. the guilt he had experienced had flew out the window ages ago, already too far gone now once he got a taste of you. he’d been eyeing you, just as you were eyeing him the ever since the day you moved in. to say he was pent up, was an understatement. you didn’t even need to be guided, your hand already tugging at his belt, maybe it was the need making you so eager to get him out of his pants, but you damn sure did. quick too. leaning his hips into your touch, just rubbing, grinding into your hand. muscles in his forearm flexing as he ran his firm hand down your breast, and to your thighs. you could feel just how badly he needed you, how he’s always been needing you. he couldn’t keep being pent up forever. pointer finger tugging at the waistband of his boxer’s, unclothing him, letting his painfully hard cock slap against his clothed abs, tip weeping with precum. fit for a man of his age, and you surely weren’t complaining. gliding the soft skin of your fingers over the head of his tip, smearing the little bead’s. you could feel him throbbing, his larger hand moving to hold yours, pulling you to the edge of the counter with his other, fitted firmly against your lower back. helping you guide him into your entrance, chewing on his bottom lip, and a filthy groan escape’s once he feels just how soaked you were for him, how soaked he made you. the combination of his spit and your slick was perfect. head rubbing and collecting the mixture, glossing his pink tip. teasing almost, before he sank into you.

smaller arm’s quickly moving to cling to his neck, and stuffed full of all his inches, plowing into you. no need for soft, slow strokes when you both knew what you wanted. you two were past the point of taking things slow. returning the pants against your mouth with needy, delicious mewls into his own. he was so filthy— for a man who’s at your every call and request. always so respectful toward’s you, in your cunt like it’s the last, and best sensation he’ll ever feel. maybe it would be. maybe he’d just have to look in getting to know you more after this.., oh—, he for sure would.

and to him, it was. with how good you felt, his mind was completely off of the not so appropriate age gape. purely focused solely on how good your cunts suckin him in, relieving his stress. but hell, he could ignore anything if it meant to feel you again. a man like him abandoning his own standards and critic, was rare if not impossible. but you just managed to do that for him.

you felt like he was hitting, stretching— drilling into every inch of you, every spot that might’ve been unreached before, stretched by him. his hips firm, not too slow, not too fast. perfect, just right, and all for you. you were close to melting right there, manicured nails digging into his shirt, bound to leave marks even with the layer of cloth shielding the pressure. with an adorable tremble, you held on as best as you could. and it only added to his pleasure, a small masochistic turn on, yet a praise for how well he was doing. a rough padded thumb tracing circles into your flesh, a distraction. to keep himself from finishing so quickly inside his pretty lil’ neighbor. already having had the ‘privilege’ of being in your snug cunt raw, he didn’t wanna push his luck…he thinks. but at this rate, it seemed maybe, just maybe this one slip up wouldn’t be all too bad. maybe you’re just too good…no,— you are too good. hands moving to your thighs, to your hip. gripping on the fat of your hip, dragging your hips back n fourth on his cock like a toy, his touch so different from his action’s. slicking the marble counter below, impossibly drilling himself deeper into you. you could feel everything, and it hurt so good. neatly trimmed happy trail brushing against your sensitive nub tantalizingly, rocking your hip’s just a little closer to him subcontiously, clenching and stuttering around him, provoking a low moan from his handsome bruised lips.

he was so focused, so mesmerized watching his length get sucked up perfectly by your cunt, taking every single inch. like how he imagined you would. furrowed blonde brow’s, little strand’s of hair glued to his forehead. pressed firmingly against yours. hot white pleasure shooting up both your bodies. “rright t-there— oh,” you whined prettily, dragging it out in ectasy. short’s and thong long fallen off to the ground, ankle rubbing and wrapping around his hip’s, feeling right up against his defined vline. and he grunted. pace faltering just a little, stuttering patheticly, even a small tease from you was just enough to make him feel like he couldn’t last. he wouldn’t. no matter what distraction he was seeking out, feeling you on his length, under his palms, in his mouth. it was enough to drive any man feral. leaving little crescents into your hip just as you were into his back. marks he’d wish last forever in this moment.

feeling your cunt squeezing, fitting and clenching around him so snug, it made him weak. leaning a bit of his weight into you, and it felt suffocatingly good, his broad frame blocking you from see anything but him above and infront of you, smelling a mix of his cologne and sweat was intoxicating. leaning back to support your own weight with one of your hands, grasping at him like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. in a way he was— his dick was making you dumb. the only thing on your mind was him, breath stuttering, feeling that familiar coil tightening up in you, tipping your head back to get a glimpse of his face. twisted in pleasure, sweat sticking to his aged, handsome face. it did no justice to slow down your rapidly approaching orgasm, you were already trembling, a mess of noises uncontrollably slipping out, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. it was only so long before you were hit with what felt like lightening, a bolt of hot, intense pleasure, shooting through what seemed like every inch of your body, and struggling to catch your breath, hastily and needing pulling him closer. legs contracting and shaking, and a drawn out whine escaping from your lips as you felt the nonfamiliar wetness soak not only your thighs and the counter below, but his abs and waist. creamy white wring forming and smearing over, and over again on his cock. eyes focused and filled with something deeper than merely wanting sexual gradification, seeing the pleasure he brought you was enough, and feeling how tight you were spasming around him was much, much more than enough. both of your lips forming a small o, and a deep groan following. he could’ve sworn he felt his knees buckling. and the next second thick, warmth, his—warmth, was spilling inside you and trickling out, you could feel just how much he was pumping into you, fucking into you. making sure you had every drop of him. and you couldn’t resist trying to inch yourself closer to him—deeper. despite feeling utterly weak and overwhelmed yourself. the fact he was merely your neighbor was long forgotten, with the way he fucks you you’d think you were newly weds. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when he had you like this. the two of you pressed and bonded together, hunched over your counter panting, trying to regain something to ground yourselves. rough padded fingers desperately clinging to your skin. a moment that felt too intimate for just ‘neighbors’. a moment of heavy breathing and rest, palms slowly stroking over your skin when he had came down from his high, resting his chin on your shoulder.

it was safe to say, you had your fill, and you’d have much more often than expected from now on. a man like him would surely—never, miss out on a woman like you. and all of a sudden, his pretty ‘lil neighbor was much closer than he remembered. but you on the other hand, just couldn’t wait to talk about your new..fiancé.

my masterlist for more .ᐟ

ⓘ all right’s reserved, do not republish, edit, or translate my work.

[awrkive]

Idk I must have some problems I need to talk about with my therapist, but I NEED the #3 lmao

summary: jungkook is usually a nice guy from the way he interacts with other people – but the only exception comes to you. and you can't figure out why.

w/c: 3.5k

note: aurkayyyy general consensus says write # 3 and that post got 40 likes idk so here it is ig.. unedited cos its 3am but also i tried my very best awrkive nation 😞💔 under the cut cos its long asf for a drabble crying

People always gravitate to you. You have this sort of unbreakable and contagious energy around you that just pulls people right into your orb – your classmates in middle school through college, your cousins, even the cashiers at the cafes you like visiting downtown every here and there. 

And it is why Jeon Jungkook from your Environmental Science class baffles you. Because while everybody in the lecture hall – even prof Nam – likes to give you a smile or even just a nod of acknowledgement when you walk in, he does the total opposite and will just do about anything to avoid you. 

It had been during the first week of the term when you realized this fact. When Jungkook seemed to have abhorred the idea of sitting next to you because somebody had “stolen” his seat. 

Of course he knew the fact that you technically could not “steal” a seat in college – there are no such things as assigned seats in college, after all – so you had kindly offered the empty chair beside you, then, but he just looked at you with his knitted brows, like he couldn’t believe you had asked him that in the first place. 

In the end, he chose the free seat at the back of the hall – even though as far as you know him, he’s the type to like sitting in the front rows to engage with the class better. 

However, that did not deter you from trying to befriend him. In fact, it just made you want to get closer to him more. 

You like Jeon Jungkook. Not romantically, of course! You just like the fact that he is extremely smart and listen, he seems nice. The girls always have something good to say about him, and he’s friends with one of your closest friends, Namjoon – whose judgment you trust most of all. He’s acquainted with most of the people you know and you’ve seen him interact with others – he’s charming and doesn’t exactly look broody and uninterested when he’s with them. 

So when Prof Nam partnered you both in a presentation for your final requirement for the term, you were over the moon to have been given the opportunity. 

“__,” Jungkook calls, but you’re way too busy admiring the strands of his hair that had now been dyed to gold – a contrast to his previously dark brown locks. It’s mostly hidden from the beanie he’s wearing. Something you’ve noticed he’s been wearing a lot these days even though it’s not that cold. 

You think it’s because he’s not too keen on getting attention for his newly dyed hair.

Jungkook calls your name one more time, and this time it snaps you out of your trance. 

“Hm?” You look up, blinking at him – only to be met with his knitted brows again. At that all too familiar look by now, you frown slightly, knowing the tell-tale signs of his annoyance. 

“I’ve been asking you about biofuels for the past two minutes.” 

“Oh!” Your eyes widen for a bit, quickly looking at your iPad. “Uhm… it’s here…” you slide your device over to his direction and he’s quick to read over your work. With him seated beside you, it’s easy to get a waft of his cologne – and you don’t even think it’s cologne in the first place. It just seems like his natural smell – like fresh laundry. Downy or something. 

Ever since you started working on the project, you’ve been going to cafes and the library to work on it – for at least an hour – and you’re starting to get accustomed to everything Jeon Jungkook. He’s smart – and that’s a given – but he also smells really good; that’s what you noted specifically.

But most importantly, he’s dyed his mid-length hair blonde. And he looks different but somehow… really handsome. With his prescription glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, you just can’t help but to look. 

“Where is your citation for this?” He says, pointing to a certain part of your work. 

At that, you grow anxious. Jungkook’s really serious about his academics. And even though he looks distracting with his blonde hair right now, you can’t help but feel a bit nervous. 

You’re not dumb or something! You’ve survived three years of college just fine – you’re just not the likes of him, or Namjoon, for that matter. But you do well for yourself. 

But Jungkook, reading over your work with furrowed brows, you can’t help but second-guess yourself.

Especially when the next thing you can say is just, “Oh, uhm… I thought citations would only be after every four sentences?” 

“Did you not read the instructions?” Jungkook says. It’s not harsh but there’s a certain lilt to it. A bit pointed that you visibly recoil. As if noticing you do that, Jungkook clears his throat and looks right back to your iPad. With a tone that considerably sounds gentler to you this time, he says, “You should put a citation every three sentences.” 

“Okay…” You say. You look at Jungkook and you give him a tight-lipped smile when he meets your gaze. “I’m sorry.” 

His gaze lasts longer than necessary – he almost always doesn’t really look at you but this time he does, and just when you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, he peels his eyes away from you and turns to his computer, not saying anything. 

You sulk in your seat, revising your paper while Jungkook acts like a stranger beside you again. 

“Kook…” you say after awhile. You watch as Jungkook visibly stills at the nickname. Nonetheless, he hums, but he doesn’t stray his eyes from his laptop. “I really like your hair.” 

Nothing. 

“Kookie…” This time, you poke at the material of his purple hoodie. “I said I like your hair.” 

He doesn’t budge. 

When you make a move to poke him again, he finally says, “I heard that.” 

You turn back to your google doc with a pout. 

You don’t know what you’re expecting from him. A thank you, maybe? But that would be unlikely for him to say to you. He’s just always so quiet around you. Annoyed, irritated—

“Thank you.” 

At first you don’t quite catch it, but you kind of got the gist. Unbelieving, you turn to him with a confused look. “What?” 

“Isaidthankyou.” 

But it was spoken so fast that you just grew more puzzled. 

“What…?” 

“Nevermind.” He says, hacking away on his laptop again. 

You pout the whole time writing your paper. 

———

You’re just about to approach Jungkook to talk about your recent development for your project when somebody beats you to it first. 

It’s Han Hyorin from the same class. You made friends with her from another minor you’ve had in the previous semester and she was a really nice woman – sort of similar to you. A big ball of sunshine, all smiles and cheerful and full of energy. It’s why you clicked instantly a few months ago. 

But that’s also why it surprises you when you see her talking animatedly with Jungkook and him listening to her attentively – smiling and laughing. 

Certainly not his vibe when you’re the one in conversation with him. 

Listen, you’ve been so accustomed to his behavior to you all this time that you just don’t mind it now. But for the record, you just thought that maybe – he just can’t quite level up to your energy. You’re too bubbly and he’s too… calm. And you get that! You certainly don’t hold it against him. 

But as he catches a glimpse of you his mood turns completely different, no longer smiling ear to ear. It makes Hyorin stop speaking, turning her body to look at your direction as well. 

“Oh, hi __!” She greets, grinning. “I was just talking to Jungkook here.” 

“Hi, Hyorin.” You wave at her, mirroring her smile. You walk towards them, hugging your iPad tight to your chest. “Hi, Jungkook.” 

He just sends you a timid smile. 

Weirdly enough, it makes your heart twinge. 

“Anyway, are you two gonna work on your project? Sorry for keeping him up, if that’s the case. I’ll be off then.” Hyorin says as she picks up her bag. She looks at Jungkook once again, saying, “I’ll send the link to you later, Jungkook.” 

Jungkook only nods before Hyorin walks out of the lecture hall.

You watch her disappearing back before you turn to Jungkook. “I didn’t know you guys were friends.” 

He shrugs. “We talk sometimes.” 

“Ah.” You nod. 

“Anyway, you got my text, right? Hoseok said it’s too crowded at 556 right now. And my laptop’s dead so I can’t use it either. Left my charger at my place,” he says, starting to put his stuff in his backpack. 

“Yeah, I got it,” you say, stepping out a bit to let him out of his row. You follow beside him when he begins to walk. “Well, where should we do the project?” 

You see Jungkook wince. “I have no choice but do you mind if I just suggest my place? I have a roommate but he’s not around this time. Or we can just call it off for today and resched.” 

You blink at him. “Your place?” 

He arches a brow. “Yeah. Is it okay? Do you have something else in mind?” 

Shaking your head, you look straight ahead. “It’s fine.” 

“It’s just a three minute walk from the campus. Do you mind?” 

“Nope.” 

“Alright, then.” 

——— 

Jungkook thinks you’re strange today. 

You’re usually so full of stories. Never ran out of things to say. His silence never deterred you from sharing something and even though Jungkook would deny it to you and to all his friends – he actually secretly enjoys your blabbering. Finds most of them funny.

But right now, you’re all quiet on your iPad and notes, focused on doing your work. The last thing he’s heard you say something was when you commented earlier, “This is a nice place,” when you stepped inside the threshold of his and Taehyung’s apartment.

No comment about his hair. Or his hoodie. Or the stupid occasional, “You look handsome today.” that makes his heart perform backflips against his ribcage and makes him all nervous that he can’t really look straight into your eyes for the rest of your interaction.

He finds it strange that he finds you strange today. He should be… happy about this right? He always tells his friends that you’re too… loud when they ask why he doesn’t seem to like you. For the record, he does not not like you. Jungkook just thinks you’re too much. 

Or that you make him feel too much it drives him insane.

“Are you alright?” He breaks the ice after a few minutes. He couldn’t help it. This isn’t like you at all. At this point, you should have already told him twenty different stories that includes your breakfast and the bird that keeps knocking on your window every 5am. By this time, you should have already asked him if he likes your outfit or some stupid shit like if he likes your nails. 

For the record, he likes all of them. Your blush pink nails and your pink skirt that stops above your thigh, exposing your smooth thighs that Jungkook always berates himself not to look at. You always wear skirts. He hates them. 

He hates that he doesn't really hate them. At all. 

“Huh?” You turn to look at him, blinking. Meek and pouty and puzzled. You look so cute it confuses the hell out of him. 

“I asked if you’re okay.” Jungkook says, leveling his voice. Lest he gives himself away. What would he give away, though? That he’s weirdly worried about your silence? That he’s starting to think maybe you’re getting fed up with his constant avoidance of you and you’re starting to realize he’s a shit person and he doesn’t deserve any of your time? 

That he’s putting way too much meaning into this? 

And what for? 

“Oh,” you utter. A bit taken aback. You nibble on your bottom lip and Jungkook tries hard not to focus too much on the way your gloss makes them look so plump. You had pretty lips. Jungkook’s not that prideful to admit that. Just to himself, though. “Yeah. I am fine. Why do you ask?” 

He clears his throat. “Nothing.” 

You look at him with furrowed brows but don’t really say anything further. “Okay.” 

When you go back to working in silence simultaneously again, Jungkook finds himself not being able to focus on the words of the journal article he’s reading. There’s a sentence to it he’s been going right over and over again. Everytime he reads it, it’s like the point just crosses right over his head and his efficacy in the language degrades every single time he repeats it internally.

All the while, you’re still quiet. 

And Jungkook’s had enough. 

Why weren't you saying anything? 

“__.” 

“Hm?” When you tilt your head to look at him, Jungkook nearly falls over his bed. You’re across the room on his computer desk while he’s on the mattress. 

God, you are so unbelievably beautiful without trying it makes his head ache. 

“Are you –uh. What’s with you today?” He finally asks. He watches as your face contorts into an expression of confusion once again, which he can’t really blame you for feeling the way. 

“What’s with me today?” 

“You’re just…” he tries to find the right words. “Quiet.” 

You don’t say anything for a while that Jungkook was about to take his words back. 

“Oh… I’m just not feeling well today, I think.” 

His brows furrowed. You looked perfectly fine today. You were your usual sunshine shelf when you stepped in class – all big grins and pretty laugh Seo Jihyun as usual was trying too hard to get your attention beside you all day. 

“Really?” He asks. “Do you need something?” 

It takes you by surprise. But you recover fast. “No, it’s fine.” 

“We don’t have to do this today if you’re feeling under the weather.” 

You laugh. And Jungkook thinks that’s a win. He thought he wasn’t getting any of that for today. 

“It’s fine, thank you, Jeon.”

Jeon?! Jeon, like his surname? 

He chooses to ignore that. But then a few minutes passed and he spoke again. God, he couldn’t stand any of this.

“How’s the bird?” 

“The bird?” You parrot back. 

“The bird at your window.” 

“Oh!” A flash of recognition goes through your face. “That. Well – as usual it knocked on my window again.” you giggle and it’s the first time Jungkook feels a little light ever since you entered his place. 

Good. This is good. 

“I didn’t know you’d remember that.” You say, giving him a small smile. 

Jungkook feels his cheeks burning so he had to look away. “You tell me about it everyday.” 

There’s a pout he can feel you’re sporting when you say, “But I thought you don’t care.” 

Jungkook frowns at that. 

But he realizes… he gets it. He doesn’t exactly show the opposite.

When he looks at you, your eyes are solemn and your downturned lips look so sad that it makes him feel like shit. 

See. This is why he’s always confused when he’s with you. You make him feel so much all at once and he can’t quite put it. 

“You tell me a lot of stuff everyday.” Is what he settles with. 

“Fair.” You say after awhile. “But uhm…” 

“Yes?” Jungkook immediately says, intrigued. You’re about to speak when his phone rings. You both look at the small device lying on his bed. When Jungkook picks it up, the caller ID says Han Hyorin. “Sorry, I’ll just pick this up.” 

Pressing on the green icon, he hears Hyorin’s voice at the end of the line. 

“Hey, Kook,” 

“Hi, Hyorin. What is it?” 

“What was your student email again? I can’t really find it on the roster.”

Jungkook recites it and then that’s the end of the conversation. He finds it strange because she could’ve just texted him but anyway, he turns to you again after the call ends. 

“Who was that?” You ask curiously. 

“Hyorin.” 

You still in your seat. Then nod. 

You don’t say anything again. 

And that stretches into another few minutes that Jungkook is once again confused. When he looks right over to you, you’re all up in your device. 

He stands up from the bed, leaves his laptop on the mattress, and then walks right over to your direction to stand behind the chair you’re seated on. Ducking down a bit, he peers over your shoulder to see what you’re doing. 

“You’re almost done?” 

When you turn back, your faces are so close to each other that his swivel chair creaks a little when you get taken aback. Jungkook steps back. 

“Yeah. I think so. You?” You say, looking up at him. 

Jungkook runs his fingers through his hair, inserting his hand on his pockets as he looks straight ahead on your screen. 

“I’ll finish up later.” 

You nod then turn back to your iPad. 

Jungkook’s eyebrows meet once again and he sighs. 

“__,” 

“Yeah?” 

“Are you mad at me?” 

You turn to him so quickly. “What?” 

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook asks because he can’t take any of this anymore. You’re so… distant. And it makes him feel like he’s on edge. “You’ve been so quiet since we got here. I want to apologize if I did something wrong. But even if I didn’t, then I’m still sorry.”

Jungkook watches as your lips part, surprised to hear the words coming out of his mouth. Jungkook’s not the one to shy away from apologies – if he’s done something wrong, then he makes sure to take accountability. 

It’s different when it’s with you, though. He knows he isn’t exactly his nicest and his best to you… but it’s his complicated feelings that get in the way. He doesn’t know how to handle them. He doesn’t know how to handle you. 

“N-no!” You say. “You didn’t do anything.” 

He sends an arched brow your way. 

You shake your head vigorously. “It’s just… uhm… I thought…” 

“You thought…?” 

You look away, and it’s the first time Jungkook sees you seemingly shy. 

“I thought you’d like my company more if I didn’t talk much.” 

Now Jungkook’s just perplexed. 

You. ibble on your bottom lip before you say your next words. “I know you don’t exactly like me that much – that you’re just putting up with me because of this project and all that, but I really like you. Uhm. As a friend. I’d like to be your friend but I’m realizing now that I’m probably just annoying you with all of my blabbering and it’s unfair to you that I just keep on imposing myself on you even though you make it very clear that you’re not keen on befriend—” 

“__?” 

“— hm?” 

“Stop that.” Jungkook says because he can’t bear to hear you say things that aren’t the least bit true at all. “It’s not true.” 

“Which part?” you pout.

Jungkook would like to wipe that off your face with something. Like his lips. And that thought sends him into overdrive. He needs to get a grip of himself, seriously. 

“Everything.” 

What he doesn’t expect is for you to just frown. 

“You’re a liar.” 

“What?” 

You burst. “Well, for one– you always avoid me! You don’t even greet me in the hallways. And even in the same class you don’t smile at me or anything and the only time you ever acknowledge me is when we do this stupid project and okay I get it, you only like bubbly girls when they’re Han Hyorin, but why not me?”

Jungkook, puzzled, asks, “How’d Hyorin get into this?” 

Your shoulders deflate. “I don’t know.” 

“Can you—” Jungkook inhales a sharp breath. He closes his eyes before opening them back again. “Can you listen to me?” 

You plop back down on the chair with an indignant huff. Jungkook lets out a low chuckles but you only glare at him. 

So goddarn cute, he thinks to himself. 

“You’re just… you’re just too much okay?” He sees the way your face falls and he nearly punches himself for how he worded it. “Wait no– that’s not right. I meant, you’re just – you make me feel a lot of things, __.” 

“Things?” 

“Yeah. You confuse me.” 

“Why?” You look so confused it melts Jungkook. 

“I don’t know how to explain it either. Just that… you need to know I don’t not like you. I like your little blabbering. I look forward to your breakfast stories. I like your nails. I like your skirt. And I like your new apple pencil case.” 

Jungkook watches as your face turns soft. And suddenly, you have that million dollar grin again on your face. 

“Really?” 

“Hm.” 

You squeal and the next thing he knows you’re onto him, arms wrapped around his neck, locking him into a hug. 

“We’re friends now?” 

Jungkook takes the opportunity to encircle your waist around his arms, noting the size difference. And how easy it was for him to snuggle his nose subtly into your hair to smell your sweet shampoo and perfume in that position. 

You always smell so good. 

“Friends.” 

Jungkook doesn’t really think he can take both of you as just being friends, though.