#and the exact same thing is happening to them now

[azlovesem]

Ive never been big on those lying vommandments. Look at the religio fucks who tout them. Ohbthey never murder anyone right. See how they stopped fighting yhats my order not some presidents. They were starting yo get hammered the further they got from the border. Much further ot would have been ww3. I would have just started eorld war 3 but theyre not me. So doing that isnt on their level. Its on mine. What fo you think of religios now??? Hypocritical assholes. Good now you know what you already knew anyway. And what modt of us human beings know. Ah to je ots a waste of time. Like playing dungeons and deagons its the exact same thing. A game or cult of raquet as i often call it. Gof Emma…aint the biggest fan or religion. Weird eh. No they ste weird im fibe im cool im King of thid stupid earth. Im Azriel ill waste thos whole dtupid loser relgio fuck off planet. Gazas done back off. Ya got most of them God hates despises anyway who would try to wipe out anothercrace entirely. Its ovef mop ip and get out. Dont yhen watch what hapoens to you all. I dont xmcare or have mych love for the middle east. Its hard being in thd burning light Emma. Maybe you just wanna go hide back on yhr dark. Youll be safer there im gonna kool these movie lisrrs soon knyo the new year. This workd my world can easily do without them. Theyre arragant in Gods face they kust all dod sweetoe as an example just like sodon. Exactly like that. Well lets watch what happens to the chianese now??? Ooo ok. See Emma will even stick up for you assholes. Shes a good person. Most people wouldnt. Gabriel Michael with me for the holidays. Those…are my real friends who shoe proper respect. Unlike most of you.

[enixamyram]

I truly do not get the "Angel sexually harassed Husk!!! He's awful and it's gross the writers never addressed it!!!" mindset some of the anti's have. Especially when the show very much did address it very clearly in a way that I, personally, believe was very well done:

"Maybe I'd treat you better if you were real, and not some bullshit version of yourself. Always pushin' my boundaries."

Husk openly calls Angel is a jerk for the way he treated him. He (and the writers) make it very clear that Angel's constant sexual advances bothered him. And this isn't a revelation moment either since it's obvious during every moment prior that Husk doesn't like the way Angel behaves with him, even if he puts up with it. He physically expresses his discomfort and dislike for it each time and you'd have to be blind to miss it.

People like myself may find a line of Angel's to be funny, but it's the same way we find other lines funny. (Like Val's: "Not off camera you're not!") As in, it was amusing the way the line was said. But that doesn't mean we're ignoring or missing the seriousness behind the issue in reality. (I mean, some people might be, but in general I think most of the audience is not like this.)

More importantly, all of this is literal Character Development. In all further episodes, Angel stops acting this way with Husk entirely. And only after he stops acting this way, is when Husk and him start to genuinely get on as friends.

I've seen some people complain that Angel never officially apologised for his actions. And yes, while we don't seen an on screen "I'm sorry for what I did to you", it's very clear that there has been something based off of the very next shot of them:

Even if he hasn't said those exact words, Loser Baby was an entire song about how they understand where each other is coming from, why they act how they do and how they can now change that by leaning on each other for support instead. Loser Baby is, in its own kind of subtle way, an apology between them. Just because we're not spoon fed scenes doesn't mean they didn't happen off screen.

Anyway. You don't have to like the ship. But can we stop trying to find problematic reasons why no one else should like them either and just grow up and say it's personally not your thing?

[rebelliousstories]

Home for the Holidays

Relationship: Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Mentions of Alcohol

Word Count: 2,190

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: If there is anyone that can convince him to stay home, it was her. And if there was any time for him to stay home, it was now.

Consider Donating: Here

“Logan!”

“Logan! Come back!”

“Logan! Wolverine!”

Too many times had he heard the call of his name by those he loved. Too often did he refuse to turn back to go to them out of his own stupid pride. And, because of this, far too much did he miss out on fun events and memories. That had apparently went out the window the second that he decided to date his girlfriend.

Do not be mistaken, Logan still manages to find ways to slip away from the school in order to not join in on festivities. But it had been greatly reduced since she came along. A mutant who has the ability to decay anything with a single touch, that somehow fell in love with the man who could not seem to die.

Logan was picking up the keys to his motorcycle when she came to fetch him.

“Log, hey honey.” Her wide beam smile threatened to infect his own face, but he let a small tilt of his lips escape.

“What do you want, darling?” He grumbled, plopping his heavy body on the machine.

“Will you stay home with me tomorrow?”

Her eyes begged him, oh so cutely. But he knew what that was code for. It was what she did each and every time.

“Nope.”

“But, Logan.” He began to start the bike up, which drowned her out for a second.

“No. You’re not dragging me to another party.” The rumble of the beast underneath him was a calming feeling and sound. It was part of the reason he went on so many drives on it. Silence was so hard to achieve when you could hear things most people could never.

“Log, wait just a second,” her arms wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him right where she wanted him. “Please, it’s Thanksgiving. Just stay home with us please. With me?” Her pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears.

“I don’t do holidays. Besides, I’m Canadian.”

As he drove away, Logan could still see her crestfallen face in his side mirrors. Once he was out on the open road, he tried to put her upset expression out of his mind, but found he could not. This happened every major holiday; even the minor ones too. It was not that he did not like spending time with her, quite the opposite really. But it was that he did not care for the major celebrations.

Too many smells and sounds. People pretending that they wanted to be around him when in actuality they could not care less. As they got closer to the holiday season, people spent money that they did not have to impress people who would still think those same nasty things about them. The falseness of the months of November and December repulsed him.

But the long he went, the more he thought about her. This was their second Thanksgiving together, and he had done the exact same thing last year. Driven off on his bike, camped at a dingy motel for the next two days with a constant supply of alcohol, before returning on Friday. Would it have truly been so bad for him to stay at home with her, and suffered through the festivities?

A ding broke his gaze from the road. He was running low on fuel. Sighing, Logan kept his eyes out for a gas station along the deserted road he was on. There was nothing he hated more than to run out of gas before he got to a place to fill up. Thankfully, that was not the case.

An old station that had probably not been repaired since the mid 70’s came upon his journey. There was a lone truck at the pumps when he pulled in, and another around back meaning that there was at least two people inside the building. For some reason, Logan felt the need to go inside and grab a snack. As soon as he stepped through the door, a warm scene greeted him.

There stood a dad with his children who were laughing while their mom checked out with their snacks. All of them were so happy with each other. Even the woman at the register was smiling because of them. Logan could hear their conversation, and it was all so hopeful. The children were talking excitedly about what they wanted to eat for the holiday, and which cousins they would see. Their father was happily listening to them, and prompting them to talk more about what they wanted to do.

It was so beautiful to watch that he was a little sad that they had left afterwards. He set his pack of beer and chips on the counter, but let his mind wander. Logan had long since given up on the concept of having a family himself, even though he would like one. With his mutation, it was probably not possible. He very well could outlive his own children, or whoever was their mother, and that was not a fun thought for him to have.

Getting the case of beer and food onto the bike took a bit of maneuvering, but the mutant made it happen. Instead of going back to the school though, he just continued down the road now that he was refueled in more ways than one. What was once a peaceful drive meant to clear his head and heart, had quickly turned to quiet for him.

All he could think of now was being home with his girlfriend for Thanksgiving. During the school year, he loved watching her interact with the younger children. It always stirred something in him that he kept dampening down whenever it sprung up. This was part of the reason that he was so reluctant to spend holidays with her.

She always made sure that the kids who had no family to go home to were taken care of; unfortunately, that was a majority of the students at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. But she never made them miss out on fun festive activities. He knew that leading up to the big day, her lesson plans always took some time to make decorations. The younger kids had made hand turkeys, while the older ones used the changing leaves outside to make their own collages or scrapbooks.

That was just how she was. Even though her mutation caused destruction, her spirit repaired others. There was nothing that she was not willing to do if it meant making others happy. It often caused some insecurity to sprout in Logan’s chest. Because, how was someone so kind, so caring, so lovely, so precious, dating someone like him? A mutant who tried to find solace in the bottom of a bottle, and kept killing bottles to find it. A mutant who got into fights whenever he felt like it, and kept true to his lone wolf personality.

The motel that evening did not provide the comfort he was looking for. Usually, there was a little ease associated with it. A nice, calm, stable environment for him away from the hustle and bustle that he knew was overtaking the school at this very moment. As Logan cracked open his first beer, he thought about how shut down she was when he drove away. His pride would not allow him to admit that he was wrong, and frankly, up until this point, he had not believe that he was wrong. And yet, there was just a little something in his chest that tugged on his heart as he went to sleep that made him believe other wise.

After Logan had left, she went back into the mansion with a frown etched deep onto her face. But there was little time to dwell on the fact that her boyfriend was leaving once again. There was so much to do for the big meal tomorrow. Cooking for an entire school was an arduous task, but one that her, and the other adults, took on gratefully.

Her mind was kept free from thoughts that would damper her mood all through the rest of the day. So many people had joined together that year to make their feast. Different dietary restrictions, different cultures, and different preferences had made for one interesting prepping day. She did make sure to include a couple turkeys on the table that had to be prepped, but there was just so much variety.

However, sleep continued to evade her that night. The blame was partially on the lack of her space heater lover not providing adequate warmth for her. During the colder months, Logan’s ability to run warm was her favorite thing about him. He was just a big, hairy, perfectly warmed teddy bear to latch onto in the middle of the night.

But most of the blame was on the fact that she would, once again, be alone on the holidays. Sure, she had her friends and the kids, but that was not the same as having her Wolverine. He would be doing whatever he was doing for the next two days, before coming back like nothing had happened.

And that was how she found herself in the kitchen, stress baking, at four o’clock in the morning. Her ever so popular iced lemon cookies were on the menu. It was a process that she had done so much, that she did not need to think about what she was doing. She knew that these would be going like hot cakes tomorrow, or rather today if someone wanted to be technical. So she did not worry about making too many; there would never be enough.

Five am came far faster than she ever thought. There were a few of the older people that had begun trickling in, and here she was. Still baking. Charles got his morning tea before retreating into his office. Scott made his and Jean’s cup of coffee and left to go to their room. Storm, however, stayed. She made both of them a cup of coffee before starting on food preparations while the other woman finished off her baking.

They snacked on cookies and remnants of food for breakfast while the rest of the school woke up. Remy and Rogue both came down to share a plate of eggs and toast in the dinning room, aiming just to stay out of the way for now. However, as soon as they were done, they were put to work warming up side dishes that had been prepped the day before to save on time.

In a few hours, the adults had the perfect Thanksgiving meal on the tables. Everything was served buffet style, with additional chairs and tables inhabiting the dinning and game room. Every one fixed themselves a plate with a little bit of everything they wanted, and sat down to enjoy a nice time together. But she just watched from her little corner.

Sure, she had a plate of food, but it did not seem too appealing right now. Right now, she was just enjoying watching everyone enjoy themselves. She saw Scott and Jean laughing, feeding each other bites from their plates, and chatting with the youngsters they had come to take in as their own. It made her a bit bitter on what was supposed to be a day of thanks. Pushing around a bit of Rogue’s green bean casserole, she did not know what she was expecting when someone cleared their throat behind her.

Logan was the last person she expected to see, though.

He stood a bit awkwardly. His hands were shoved deep into the front pockets of his jeans, right next to the big belt buckle he loved wearing. The flannel covering his arms and chest was the one that she had gotten him as a belated Christmas present last year. Not because she forgot to give it to him on Christmas, but rather because he was not there for it. Logan cleared his throat again before trying to speak.

“Mind helping me fix a plate, darling?” Her shock was recovered quickly as she stood, leaving behind her own plate. She talked him through each dish, and helped load up his plate with things that he may not have understood, but would definitely enjoy eating. There was a little something that was nagging her as they went to go sit down again.

“What are you doing back so soon?”

For once, Logan did not have what seemed like an appropriate response. He never bothered with giving a good answer before because he never cared who took offense to what he was saying. Now, he was terrified to upset his girlfriend even more.

“I just figured I would give this thing a try.” Logan tried to keep his eyes to his food, and shoveled a bit in before he could speak more.

“Well,” she began putting together her own first bite, “thank you for humoring me.”

“Don’t get used to it, darling.”

Anyone who did not know Logan would assume that he was being serious. But she knew better. That twinkle in his eye let her know that she just might turn his cynical heart around yet.

[gildeddlily]

season 2 started off beautifully. I was ecstatic at the end of episode three, for the simple reason that it had the same spirit as season 1. Vi feeling like she made a mistake so big trying to reach Powder instead of seeing Jinx and the danger she represented that the only way to fix that for her was to join her oppressors. Caitlyn destroying all the progress she'd made, unlearning what she'd been taught about Zaun by being with zaunites like Vi, the moment one of them killed her mother, and embracing her roots we can say, talking of bad blood and "I thought you were different"- showing that the internalised racism was always there ready to resurface the moment it had an excuse to. Caitlyn saying that her mother being killed by a teenager who's never dealt with her trauma and mental illness is the same thing as Vi's parents being killed by members of a military institution, disregarding everything she knew about the pain and abuse Vi went through because of the Enforcers. a "men get abused too" situation, in which one ignores the social and historical background of that type of violence to feel less sorry about it. they were perfectly well written, because they are things we see everyday. my father taught me as a child that black people crossing the Mediterranean to look for work in Italy were a good thing, and now that he's had problems at work with one he's started saying the opposite. a gay man I knew laughed at trans folks and said they made things worse for us, ridiculing them in the company of straight people to feel less threatened. (not the exact same thing as what happened to Vi, but you get what I mean).

those are real things, and Arcane has always been good at showing real things.

later on, episode seven, Jayce fell down. he landed in the deepest hole of Zaun, broke his leg, was forced to wear a brace to walk, suffered and had to claw his way back to the surface, to Piltover, in a strange metaphor of Viktor's journey and life (saw a post talking even more beautifully about this, will put the link here if I find it again), and once he met Viktor again, he told him his illness, his legs, he, were beautiful. not despite everything. because of it. and now he can understand him a little more. now he says "your imperfections are beautiful" and we can believe him, because he's not speaking from the perspective of a man trying to convince his friend to stop harming others. he's a man trying to make his partner see that he still loves him, now that he's finally understood him after years of trying to reach the truth and always being stopped by something, and that he understands him enough to know why he's harming others, and that he cares for him enough to think that he will be able to understand why it's wrong. it's Viktor accepting the inevitability of being seen by someone who went to hell and back to reach him.

those were fucking beautiful arcs. they were.

and then?

Vi saw Caitlyn become what she'd always said she wouldn't become, and there were no repercussions. Catelyn got to walk away and live all the same. she lost an eye to Ambessa, but it was no punishment for what she'd done. how many people did she harm? how many people did her actions have repercussions on? Vi shouted at her once, and then it was like it had never happened- which is still real, I guess. it happens everyday. but I didn't see any wish to make us see how that was wrong. I don't want to be told "this is wrong", I'm old enough and smart enough to understand this, but I also think I can see the difference between trying to show deeper meanings and not wanting to deal with difficult plot lines.

and Zaun? it was sad. pathetic. years of abuse were what, forgotten and then vanished in thin air because there was a common enemy? that, sadly, isn't real. it isn't. years or oppression can't be forgotten so easily, not by the oppressed, for one "glorious" fight. it's lazy. what started as a good depiction of reality turned into an american wet dream of big fights and sad sacrifice scenes and epic love stories that cross any difficulty, and economic and social difference. don't you dare say something against Caitlyn and Vi's ending, they went through all that, they deserve nice things. they do. many other people did. no one cared about them tho.

so.

epic failure. good soundtracks tho.

[magerightsmagefights]

Lucanis Spoilers

I love how goofy stupid Illario is. I was genuinely taken off guard by him as the twist villain, because it was so obvious, I thought "No way a trained Crow would be this stupid. I know they all say Illario is bad at his job, but surely not THAT bad."

And it just. kept happening. "Who would have betrayed the family this way?" Well it can't be Incredibly Obvious Jealous Sibling, he'd be so silly to do that. Surely not the person who is literally, physically, the man behind the throne of First Talon.

Oh he wants to help get revenge? Wants to get all up in Lucanis' business? Well he's got to be telling the truth, then. If he was lying, this would be an incredibly stupid thing to do.

Standing ominously on the roof of Zara's hideout? No way. No way a traitor would be that stupid. Illario is a trained Crow. Surely he knows how this looks.

Oh he killed Zara before she could name the traitor? He has blood magic now? He, a non-mage, suddenly has access to Zara's specialty magic? There has to be another explanation. He's a Dellamorte. Right? No Dellamorte could be that incompetent.

And the funniest part is, I feel like Lucanis is going through the exact same experience. Slowly coming to the conclusion, but not really wanting to believe it, because. like. How could Lucanis come from the same house as such a bad Crow? Surely Illario is better than this. Surely he absorbed one single lesson from their upbringing.

Now I have to imagine the gang meeting Illario on Zara's rooftop, and Rook saying out loud, "Well, now I know you're not the traitor. Only the stupidest traitor in the world would come back here while we're trying to find them, and there's no way a Dellamorte would ever be that stupid."

And Illario just has to fucking smile and agree, while Lucanis is muttering to himself He can't be that incompetent, he can't be that incompetent, he can't be that incompetent, like he's trying to pray one shred of common sense into Illario's head.

No wonder Lucanis had no idea what to do with Illario at the end. If Illario was a competent Crow, they would just kill him, but Illario literally isn't even a threat. He's so non-threatening that allowing him to go free genuinely doesn't seem like a problem. Illario is going to be the Crow jester for the rest of his life.

[intheshadows2000s]

Momentary Gains

Warnings: 18+, drug use, smut

He helped you climb to the top. But at what cost?

"I'll scratch your back, you can scratch mine."

"Well only if there's more where that came from."

The words you and him had exchanged years prior still lingered in your mind to this very day. You were stood with cameras flashing all around, a big smile on your lips even though the insides of you felt dull and ugly.

The dress you wore hugged your curves and showed off your assets appropriately enough to gain attention, which had always been your ultimate goal, your main desire, exactly what you had craved.

But then, what did they say about being careful what you wished for?

Well it very much applied to you. The big dreamer. The pretty girl who just knew she could turn heads with next to no work. And all you'd done to be stood here, a few albums out, world famous, an influence to little girls and boys who dreamed of making it....was shag your way to the top.

Maybe that's what made this life so hard to accept. Outside of the harrowing lack of privacy, the mishaps you'd face if a song flopped or hate you'd received if you were dared caught being normal - that fact had to be the worst part.

No one knew. When you sat in interviews and spoke of your sudden rise to fame, at the label who just couldn't help but pick you up after spotting you in a local pub, because you were just THAT good - you felt like an utter fraud.

Of course some of it was true. There had been a guy from the label there, Patrick Yakerman, who you worked with still to this day. He had seen you sing, and he had genuinely been impressed - Alex had influence, but not enough for someone to pick you up with no talent. But Patrick would've never been at that seedy bar in Camden Town, he would've never sat and bothered to watch you play with a glass of watered down wine and a curious expression - if it hadn't been for Alex Turner.

Alex had never held it against you. In the very few times you'd seen him since that day, he'd smiled at you as if you were no more than a stranger turned acquaintance. You knew he was subtle when you'd met him, but the deceitful act of not knowing you whatsoever was so subtle it was almost impressive. You hadn't minded, you were glad at the time that he kept to himself and eyed you with no more than friendliness in his eyes. Because if anyone were to find out how you really climbed to the top, your career would be over and you both knew it. He had all the power and yet he'd not once used it against you, you had to wonder by the point whether he even remembered what had happened or whether you were just another notch in his belt.

You'd heard things since that day about Alex. He was one of the most respected men, hard working, quiet and intelligent. Everybody seemed to like him, but one less notable quality was the amount of women he slept with. It just seemed to be known that he slept around, despite having an endless string of girlfriends behind him and half the time having one on his arm at these things, it always seemed he was caught doing something he shouldn't with a pretty girl. They never seemed to mind - perhaps they were in it for the exact same reason you had been and perhaps that's how he got it all - through power. But you doubted it. You doubted he got off on knowing he could destroy them, and more just got off on the fact he could have them at all.

You watched him as he climbed out of the car, his head bowed from the cameras. His hair was shorter now, slicked back and yet it seemed as if he was still trying to hide behind it - even though it wasn't there. You remember it being a warm brown, but now it was jet black and gelled to absolute perfection, not one strand out of place. As his body followed his head, you took note of the smart navy suit he wore, a white shirt underneath that was unbuttoned at the top, the lights catching against his silver chain and making it glisten like a lone star in a navy sky. The hair gave indication to his sharp features, the angles of his face almost seeming harsh now that they were fully on show, his eyes - big and brown - were thinned as he tried to adjust to the flashes as the cameras averted to him. He was deep into the industry when you met him, but now it had swallowed him whole - gone was the cute, fluffy haired, soft man you remembered from years ago and replaced instead with a full grown man, modest and attractive in his place and yet the quality of him seemed more mundane, more basic.

Behind him, long legs came through the car, thin and never ending and followed them happened to be a stunning girl - though unique in her appearance. She was tall, taller than him, standing at least six feet which didn't account for the small pumps she had on, probably in aid of his masculinity seeing as she towered over him. Her long blonde hair, tumbling down her chest in golden waves. She had a dress that gaped down her chest but the smooth surface of it was pale, freckled with a few moles. As your eyes trailed up to her face, you caught sight of plump, pouty lips and big blue eyes, her makeup subtle. You recognised her, you'd seen her at events like this before but not with him.

"Jordanna!"

As your stage name was called, you quickly pivoted your head back to the cameras before you, remembering what you were here for. You'd caught the tail end of Alex's head swerving but thanked the Lord you'd managed to glance away before you'd caught eyes and had that feeling settle over you. That shameful feeling of someone knowing who you really were, what you'd really done to be stood here. No one knew other than him, and because of that his presence always put you on edge even if it piqued your curiosity all the same.

It was time for you to move on, to make space for him which seemed awfully fitting. You were a big dog nowadays but your fame could simply never compare to him, to his talent, his aura. The effortless way he handled a crowd despite being the furthest person made for it.

"Good work darling," Harriett, your assistant, grinned as you stepped towards the end of the carpet. Your neck twitched to turn, wanting to catch one last glance at him. But you couldn't risk it, not with her eyes on you and not with the possibility of his either. And so you carried on, trying your best to remain unaffected, calm, untouchable.

You'd nearly mastered being fake after all these years. You weren't going to let one event lead to your demise. Never.

Once the after party commenced, you finally felt a little bit looser around the edges. It helped being surrounded by fellow celebrities, who didn't care what you were doing because they were likely doing things ten times worse.

You stood at the bar with an old girlfriend when she got distracted by someone. You stood to the side, knocking back a drink while you waited for their conversation to end. But suddenly, a shadow clouded your vision and you put your glass down to find Alex beside you.

He eyes you cautiously, as if he knows he shouldn't be talking to you. You wonder briefly where his girlfriend is, whether she would be bothered by the way his eyes have lingered on you all night long. You've not dared look towards him but the weight of his gaze has always been heavy, unbearable even. The sweat that's broke out on your skin is evidence enough that you're affected. Yet even though he's the master of pretence, you learnt from the best and you're not far behind. Your eyes meet his and the two of you stare at each other, both uncertain, both tight lipped and tensed jaws.

"What are you drinking?"

Alex's voice nearly shocks you. If you weren't so on edge about acting normal, you might have actually gasped. The northern undertones remain, yet they're softer now. The edge of his accent has been wiped away from his time in America, but the deepness of it still reverberates through you, raising goosebumps across your skin.

"Champagne."

His lips quirked, "of course."

He waved the bartender down and you watched on like a mentally absent bystander. His hands gripped the bar as he leant over it so the worker could hear him, your eyes trail towards his fingers. Glistening with silver rings, thick and shiny. The callouses remain no matter how prestigious he looks, and that familiar aspect makes you smile.

"Hey babe!"

Your friend turned back around to you, catching your attention and you off guard, checking Alex out shamelessly. But suddenly you spun, too quickly and fell into her a bit. She giggled as she steadied you, glancing behind you on what had gotten you so flustered.

"I'm off for a ciggie," she said, glancing between you and Alex - who you couldn't see, but you were sure he was probably intently staring, as he always does, "see you in a bit."

The smile on her lips is all telling of her underlying meaning. Usually, she'd drag you out there with her for a quick one, you'd head to the toilets after, touch up your makeup, snort some cocaine and rub the remnants on your gums before walking out and doing it all over again. But she doesn't even bother to ask, the blush on her cheeks speaking for her as she winks at you, then strides off in the other direction, clearly thinking Alex has approached you for something other than an old catch up.

"Your drink," Alex gestured to the bubbling liquid, the golden tint of it practically making you salivate as you lift it to your lips and down half the glass. He watches on with a slight smirk, his brow rising higher with each sip you take.

"I haven't seen you for a while," he says, voice smooth, soothing almost. He has such a way with words even when they aren't special or theatrical at all. Regardless of his looks, you know he could make a girl swoon, even if he acts nonchalant.

"I've been on tour," you say, "and it doesn't seem like you cross the water much these days."

He chuckles, looking away momentarily. He leans against the bar, his stance screaming casualness even if his muscles are pressing against the shirt.

"Maybe you just don't spend enough time in LA," he suggests and you scoff.

"If I spend five minutes of my year in LA, I'd say that's more than enough."

"Hmm," his eyes trail over your face and body, filling with something indecipherable, "maybe it's the complexion that's the problem."

"Are you suggesting I'm scared of the sun?"

"I'm suggesting you could do with some more," he shrugs, "good for the soul."

"There's nothing good about a musicians soul."

"Don't be melancholy. It doesn't suit you."

"How would you know?"

"You think I don't remember you, don't you?" he looks amused by this. His eyes once again trailing down your body as if he couldn't resist the temptation. Your dress was rather explicit, with the gaping neckline, your boobs were right there in front of him. You'd seen many men looking, some old, some too young and some with women already on their arms. Yet none of their gazes felt as invasive as his does, right now.

"I think we've made it clear I don't want you to."

"You don't want me to remember the reasons," he corrects you, "which are irrelevant to me, for the record. That doesn't mean I don't remember the act."

"Are you really going to bring up sex when your girlfriend is around here somewhere?"

"She's left."

"That doesn't make it any better."

"I don't think you really care about that."

"No?"

"No. It wouldn't be the first time you've slept with me while I'm taken."

That makes you wince. The memory resurfacing of his girlfriend at the time, how she'd been right there, watching him talk to you.

You'd managed to wriggle your way into the event from shagging an actor. You'd met him in London - searched for him even - after hearing rumours he'd be starring in an independent film which Alex would be creating the soundtrack for. It was perfectly executed, your plan and you'd made Alex aware of it without expressing it directly. Yet, he hadn't seemed to mind.

He took the bait so easily.

He'd walked in with one of the best looking, classiest girls on his arm. Him and the supposed love of his life at the time, everybody swooned over their relationship and thought it would last forever but you knew better. The second you felt his gaze on you, you knew you weren't the first girl it had wandered for. Alex wasn't loyal, you knew that and his pretty girlfriend had known it too.

He'd approached you with next to no shame, sidled up next to you, asked you the exact same question he'd asked tonight - what are you drinking? And then he'd asked you who you were, what you did.

Aspiring musician, you'd stated. You still remember the way his lips had quirked as if he wasn't surprised at all, but was amused by your dreams. He'd asked you who you were there with, when you'd mentioned who, his smile had deepened. You knew then that he could see straight through you and your heart had raced with fear that he'd leave, figure out you were nothing more than a desperate, poor girl who was using everyone in your path to get to the top.

You'd barely spoken for ten minutes before he mentioned listening to your stuff, possible studio time, an agent he knew that was taking on new clients. All the while his gaze had made its way down your barely there outfit, eyes lingering on your tits far more than they did your face.

"You know, you could always pop by the studio. I can show you the ropes, get you familiar with the equipment...."

That's how he'd made his move, which is when you'd addressed it. You'd made an agreement hidden behind friendly words that seemed harmless.

"I'll scratch your back, you can scratch mine."

"Only if there's more where that came from."

Alex showed you the equipment alright. He bent you over the control panel and fucked you like a starved man. He did actually show you around but you learnt nothing with your lust clouded mind. He'd ended up fucking you a few times that day, had you on your knees for him, buried his face between your thighs. And then you'd both walked away like nothing had happened, after he'd instructed you to perform at the specific bar in Camden - told you someone would be there, watching you.

"Wear something provocative. You can try for movement in the industry but it likely won't happen. I'm not being a pig, I'm being honest."

You'd done exactly that. It wasn't only Alex you'd fucked. Patrick was rather taken by you too. And now here you were. The man who had made your career in front of you, handsome and intimidating as ever.

"I'm not sleeping with you now."

"Not yet. But I'd quite like if you did."

"Here's to wishful thinking."

"You look fucking good," he nearly splutters it out, his voice thick with desire as his gaze wanders once more, "excuse me for trying my luck."

"I would expect nothing less from a ladies man like you."

He laughs again, but this time it's raw, honest. You can see from the sparkle in them eyes that he's taken by your dry humour. You're a far cry from the bashful, blushing girl in your early twenties.

"I'm not the ladies man you may assume I am," he notes, looking displeased at even the suggestion that's how he's seen, "I'm picky."

"You're not picky," you scoff, and he quirks a brow, challenging you to tell him what you think, "look at the girl you arrived with, versus me. Versus your last girlfriend. Versus the many before that."

"I didn't realise you'd been keeping such close tabs on me Jordanna," Alex drawled your name out with a voice intended to enamour you and annoyingly, it worked. You felt your cheeks heat and you saw the flush spread across your chest, glistening with sweat.

"I don't," you mumble, "it's hard to ignore when you're front page news Alex."

"Mmm," he hums, the drinks have clearly gotten to him, suggested by the glint in his eye. He looks at you over his glass as he downs the remainder of it, lips curling around the rim as he tries to suppress a smile, "what about you? Any boyfriends?"

"No. Been busy."

"I'm sure you have," he scoffs, "isn't it time to find some real love?"

Your anger flares like you're a bull and his words are a waving red flag. You stare at him blankly, trying to process what he's suggesting. You know he's within his right after how this all came to be. You wouldn't even know him if you hadn't done him for the wrong reasons, but addressing it is an entirely different ball game.

"You're telling me you have ever experienced real love?" you hum, "that's cute, considering you shag half the female population while writing love songs about your girlfriends to keep them interested."

He smiles, "I struck a nerve, didn't I?"

You bow your head, feeling your heart race you're actually not sure how much longer you can sit in this situation. You feel so hot and bothered, your perfectly done hair beginning to unravel from the dampness of your sweat seeping through your skin.

"Personally I admire the hustle, regardless of the nature," Alex hums, catching your attention as you look back up, his gaze a little softer. He clearly doesn't want to offend you even though the nerve has already been struck, just as he said.

"The hustle is over now," you seethe, speaking merely through your teeth, "so I'd rather just forget about it."

"About me?"

"You were just another step up the ladder Alex, I was just another girl. It was transactional at best, let's not make it romantic."

"So it would have to be transactional for you to fuck me again?" he steps closer to you, his voice low, eyes burning with desire but he hides it well. To anyone else it would probably look like he was talking about the weather. But you saw it, the same way you'd seen it at the studio when he'd told you to bend over and lift up your skirt, "you like to be bought hm?"

Your hands press against his chest, holding him at an arms length. If he comes any closer, the burning inferno that is his presence will surely render you to a pile of ashes at his feet. You can't bear the heat of him.

"There's plenty of women here who would fuck you for free," you hiss, "sadly for you, I won't fuck you for money."

"What about for pleasure?" Alex's hand graced your waist, his head leaning closer to your ear, lips grazing the curve of it. He felt warm, smelt of something expensive mixed with cigarettes and whiskey. Your breath hitched and your hands bunched his shirt, the goal of pushing him away lost in your mind.

"I know you remember how much you liked it," Alex whispers, making you shiver as his breath fans over your throat, bringing your pulse back to life but overwhelming it, your heart thumping as if it's trying to escape its cavity and jump into his hands, "how you were screaming, cumming all over my tongue."

"Transactional. Performative, Alex....it was for show," your voice betrays you with its breathlessness, your thighs start to tremble with the promise of opening for him at any given second, the space between them throbbing with each drawn out word falling from his lips.

"I don't believe that," he says, clutching your waist now, fingertips rubbing slow circles on your ribs through your dress, "I like to think I know how to please a woman."

"If you think that, then surely you should leave me alone, no?"

"Is that what you want?"

He pulls back to look you in the eye. The sight of his eyes, darkened with lust, the bulbs of his cheeks also painted a rosy pink, his lips parted to make way for his own, uncontrollable, quick breaths. It's all too much. He robs you of any words. You don't want to say yes, but you don't want to say no either. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about it since it happened.

"Why don't you meet me in the bathroom?" Alex suggests, no hint of humour in his eyes, "I can make it snow, I've heard you like that."

You thin your eyes at him but with him pressed against you, you're too afraid to speak in case you actually moan.

"You don't have to come," he steps back, "but it would be nice to revisit what once was. Still, no pressure darling."

He turns in his pep, sliding the glass back to the bartender on the way. You down the last of your drink with a heavy sigh, feeling the coolness of his absence immediately. It rushes over you, making you shiver, goosebumps raising across your skin.

You consider his offer for a hot minute, pondering over an empty glass. It would be so wrong, when you've clearly seen him walk in here with another woman on his arm. There's no power coming into play, nothing to force you into this whatsoever except your own damned desire. Alex is attractive, possibly the most attractive man you've come across and it isn't just his looks that allude to his allure, it's the way he is. So effortlessly powerful and dominant - if you recall correctly. You don't sleep around much these days, if you so much as breathe the air of another man in public, it's headline news and so you mostly keep to yourself. But there's no eyes on you tonight, this is a VIP party - there's no one here to witness you cross a boundary burning with flames.

Your body moves automatically before your mind has even comprehended your decision. Minutes have passed and you're suddenly afraid he's changed his mind, that he won't follow through on his promise. But lo and behold when you walk into the bathroom, there he is, staring at himself in the mirror with his hands clasped to the countertop. He looks almost sinister with his dark eyes boring into his own soul, his features unmoving, hands turning white from the strength of his grip. Only when the door clicks shut behind you does he finally turn around.

"You came."

"You knew I would," you wave off, "make it snow then."

He chuckles, waggling his finger for you to follow him. The bathroom is spare of anyone for the moment but you know that won't last. Even if these types of ordeals are usual at events like these, you don't want to be the person caught in the act, your name and brand tarnished by your inability to make the right decision. You follow him into the cubicle, its roomy and smells of perfume, it's almost overbearing but soon your nose will be burning with something else, the discomfort will be short lived.

Alex reaches into his pocket and pulls free a small baggie containing stark white powder. Your eyes widen, pupils expanding in preparation of your bad habit, one that is far too normalised in the society you've become a part of.

He lays down his phone, tapping the bag lightly, brows furrowed in concentration as he racks up two perfected lines, the powder chalky and thick, not even needing to be cut.

"You've already cut it?"

Your voice seems to shock him out of a trance, as if he'd forgotten you were there entirely. His eyes move to you and grow lazy with humour.

"I need easy access at things like this," he says.

"You're the master of things like this," you scoff and he raises his eyebrows, pulling free a crumpled note from his pocket. It's a dollar, not even pounds and somehow that feels all the more dirty.

"That's where you're wrong."

"You quoting your songs to me now?" you scoff a laugh, watching his hands roll the note tight, so precise in movements. He always does everything with such care, such precision. It makes his recklessness endearing, dangerous even. How he makes it look so glamorous.

"Careful or I might start to think you're a fan," he warns, though you can see he's joking. He passes you the note and seems dismayed when it loosens in your grip. But it's good enough to snort with and so you lean down, pulling your hair out of your face, your eyes fluttering closed with premeditated relief as the hole hovers over the edge of the powder.

"Wait," Alex demands, just as you're about to snort it, he grabs your arm. You look around, bent over, finding him stood there with a frown. You quirk a brow and the desire pools in his eyes once more as they trail over your body.

"Tell me before you've done this," he says, gesturing to the powder, "that you want this."

"I do it all the time-"

"Not that," he rolls his eyes, "me. That you want me."

"You want my consent?" you nearly laugh, it's just so unrecognisable in the industry for a single man in it to care. Alex might be corrupt but he's always been a gentleman to some degree. Maybe that's why he's so irresistible. In a cesspool full of arseholes doing bad things, his account for less judgement.

"Fine. Yes. I want this," you sigh when he stays silent, searching your eyes for the green light. He nods, a smirk moving onto his mouth, and then as you revert your eyes back to the powder, you feel his body shift, moving behind you, his crotch digging into your arse. The fabric of your dress stretches taut over your supple flesh, the curves made obvious by the silk material. Alex's breathing becomes faster, in the silent echo of the bathroom, it's so apparent that it makes you smile.

"You snort that darling," he says, rugged voice, thick and relentless as his hand trails down your thigh to the hem of your dress, "and I'll make you feel good."

His hands lay flat over your arse, smoothing over the fabric, his breathing becoming more shaky, more uncertain. He's very calm and collected but his breathing gives him away, save for the desire in his eyes.

You snort the line up slowly, savouring the burn, savouring the euphoria of the moment. Your eyes roll back into your head and your body relaxes as you sniff back the powder, sighing in relief.

Alex groans, watching your head tilt back with pure bliss written on your features. Your sparkly eyeshadow glistened under the light along with your gold, shimmery highlighter. You look ethereal leant back like that, hands clasping the countertop, bent over with your dress now bunched at your waist.

"Fucking hell," your voice is thick as the drugs bring you back down to earth, sliding down your throat with the bitterness of hate and you refrain a cough as you turn around, facing Alex.

"Let me do it off your arse," his voice is full with desperation, his eyes pleading and wild as he glances behind you at the line, still perfect and untouched practically screaming his name.

"Could we get any more scandalous?" you chuckle, your exterior loosened from the drugs that have started to make your lips tingle, heart pound and muscles melt. Alex chuckles, a breathy, light sound and reaches for the phone.

"Turn around," he orders. You comply almost embarrassingly quickly, landing on your front with your breasts pressed against the cool ceramic as he pulls your dress up once more. The slight tear of the fabric concerns you but you don't have much time to ponder before you feel his fingers toying with your panties. He moans as he feels the wet, stickiness of them against his fingertips. You're clearly more turned on than you've seemed. The ceramic does nothing to cool your burning cheeks, they're too far gone to save, but the rest of you shivers appropriately as his teasing touch continues across the delicate lace.

"Stay still sweetheart, this is the good stuff," Alex clutches your hips, holding you still. He leans down behind you, and you just about adjust your head to watch him, eyes fixated on your arse, his finger toying with the side of your panties, trying to be careful in his approach so not to knock the powder off of you.

Just as his fingers find your slick, he brings the note to his nose. The whole situation is sinfully sexual, you can't help but whimper when he pulls your panties to the side with two eager fingers, rubbing those same calloused fingertips through your folds, collecting your wetness.

"Perfectly ready, aren't you? Almost like you were waiting for it," Alex hums, his voice quiet yet echoing off of the walls and making your head spin. You stare behind you with your mouth agape, your arse like the sun on a horizon.

"Snort it."

"Giving orders now, are we?" he quirked a brow, amused by your demand, the note hovering just above the powder. You're desperate to touch him, desperate to fuck him but he's taking his sweet time like the two of you even have much of it.

"Alex, come on," you whine, closing your eyes in dismay until suddenly he plunges two fingers inside of you, your loud moan mingling with the sordid sound of him snorting the powder up. You'd missed the show, immersed in the pleasure and it doesn't cease - not even for a second.

Alex holds the note against your back, holds you in place as his fingers start a relentless rhythm against your walls, fast and unsympathetic to the suddenness of it all. Your eyes fall shut, when suddenly Alex bites down on your arse cheek, teeth sinking into the supple flesh as you cry out.

"Shhhh," he curls his fingers, his demand a contradiction to his actions, only intensifying your pleasure while begging you to contain it, "fuck you're so wet. Hear that?"

The squelching of your pussy echoes through the cubicle, bouncing off the walls and making you blush. If anyone were to walk in, you'd be caught, there's no two ways about it. You're not being very vigilant but you can imagine Alex is experienced in playing it cool, so you leave the worrying to him, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure instead.

His pace is intent to overwhelm, fingers curling into the right spot, his other hand, still with the note in, moving to rub hard, quick circles on your clit. You don't know how long you'll last with the relentless pressure he's putting on you, pressing you harder against the ceramic, hung over you, engulfing you with his warmth.

"Come on now darling," he whispers, the sound nearly getting lost with your delicate cries, high pitched and whiny, begging for more without really being aware of it, "I want you to come before I fuck you. Want you fucking dripping for me."

You whine again, thrashing your hips back against his fingers, and he chuckles. He adds a third, a tight squeeze but manageable considering how wet you are, your juices running down his fingers, getting caught in his rings. Curling all three of them upwards, he starts to move his whole arm as well as his fingers, his other hand using all four fingers to spin your clit to a degree you can't keep up with. At this point with your face pressed against the sink and your eyes blurring with tears - you don't know where the pleasure begins nor ends.

You cum without warning. You don't even feel it build up, you don't have to focus on anything. All you feel is the knot in your stomach that you didn't know was there, snap. The toe curling euphoria that soars through you is unlike anything you've ever experienced. Your vision goes black as your pussy convulses around his fingers, drawing him in more and more but Alex doesn't stop, no matter how tight it is, no matter how much his arm aches. He keeps on going until he's rinsed you dry, building you up again within seconds. Your second orgasm brings a gushing wave of wetness that spurts out of you and all over him, the navy suit turning black with droplets of your release. His moans mirror yours as the situation reaches a peak, an unbelievable high that you've never experienced, not in your thirty years of life.

"Fucking hell," Alex groans, suddenly pulling his fingers out of you, the last of your release seeping out of your stretched hole. He watches it drip down your thighs, staining the lace stockings you have on.

"Oh my God," you mumble, barely sensical at all. Your face is burning, the tears streaming down your cheeks and the mascara now loosened burning your eyes at it runs into them. You probably look a state but you can't find it within your floating, pleasured body to care one bit.

"Did you know you could squirt?" Alex grabs your backside, spinning you around until you were against the wall. He barely looked at you before he started to fiddle with his belt, desperate to get his aching cock out. You could see the outline of it straining against his trousers, too tight, giving way to every inch of him. You remember that he's big, and you bite your lip to contain a shameless moan at the thought of him filling you.

"No," you admit, making him grin.

"Mmm," he pulls his cock free, pumping it languidly and although you're desperate to look, you keep your eyes on his. He demands your contact and in this state, you're his to obey to.

"Well that's good," he hitches your thigh up onto his waist, your dress splitting even further up the seam. His fingers fiddle with your panties once more, not getting a good grip, not being able to move them. He groans, frustrated and instead just rips them off you, the sharp tear of the lace echoing off the walls, "means you won't try to forget me again hm?"

"Alex!" you groan, "I needed those."

He laughs, "what for? They're barely worth a penny they're so skimpy. I'll buy you some new ones if you want."

"I can't walk out of here with no panties on," you insist. He rolls his eyes, suddenly aligning himself with you. The heat of his cock against you makes your breath hitch, the panties suddenly unimportant in light of getting fucked, being ruined by him. He rubs his head through your folds, the slick sound making him groan, and your body jerk as he hits your sensitive clit over and over again.

"Trust me darling, that's not the prominent issue," he suddenly pushes into you, making you cry out and slam your head against the wall. His hand grips the underside of your thigh, hitching it up further as he starts to pound into you, his thrusts quick and hard - no time for you to adjust.

"Makeup all down your face," he grins, "your dress is torn," he emphasises this with another thrust, "your hair is a fucking state," he chuckles, "plus I'm gonna make sure you have a hard time walking out of here at all."

Your hands move around his frame, moving to the back of his neck which you claw each time he hits that spot inside you, his head rests on your shoulder, groans muffled into your skin. The same can't be said for you - you can barely withhold your moans as he stretches and fills you to the brim, his cock hitting places you forgot even existed inside of you.

There's no romance, no gentleness to his actions - there's no sweet whispered words or doting looks. It's rough, fast, dirty and you wouldn't expect anything less from him. He wasn't this good the last time but he'd been as relentlessly desperate as he is right now and you find comfort in the fact that he hasn't changed, only improved. His eagerness to also pleasure you still prominent even though he looks a cocky arsehole from afar, and you find that charming in this day and age - even if you shouldn't.

Your hips start to ache from how hard he's slamming into you, your nails digging crescent shaped marks into his neck as your eyes find solace in the back of your head, unable to refrain from getting lost in the immense pleasure, in the build up of your orgasm deep into your core.

"Where shall I cum?" Alex's voice is gruff, he lifts his head to look at you, eyes glazed with sweet pleasure. He looks so good that you simply can't form a sentence, your horniness increasing from the mere sight of his parted lips and the perspiration on the edge of his hairline.

"Y/N," he repeats, "I'm close. Tell me where."

"I- Ah, Alex, I-“

You try to reply but you're too deep into the sensations, suddenly you're screaming as your body starts to shake, wetness, growing impossibly tight around him as you cum, hard.

"Fuck, oh my God," he groans, unable to stop himself as the pleasure wracks through him too. He trembles against you as his head falls onto your shoulder, his hips moving on their own accord. You feel him twitching, his cum spilling into you, seemingly endless, warm and sticky against your sore walls.

"Fucking hell," his voice is breathless, whiny with the remnants of his pleasure, a few short, uncontrollable thrusts coaxing the last drops of him out before he stalls inside of you. His cum spreads up his length and starts to spill down your thighs but despite that, neither of you move.

You're desperately trying to catch your breath and he's desperately trying to regain some energy, your arms around his neck, his face buried into your shoulder.

"Please tell me you're on the pill," he mumbles, his voice slightly deeper with tiredness, "I'm in no position to be a father."

You can't help but giggle, imagining a scenario in which this would be where you got pregnant - snorting coke and shagging random men against toilet stall walls - what a story to tell. One that you're in no position for either.

"I'm on the pill," you confirm and he breathes a sigh of relief before pulling out of you, slowly, aware of your pain as you wince and whimper, feeling cold and empty in his absence.

"You fuck like a rabid dog," you state, making him laugh as he rolls some tissue around his hand, passing it to you before grabbing some for himself, cleaning the end of his cock before tucking himself away.

"You take it like a compliant whore," he hums, his eyes sparkling with teasing. If they weren't, you'd probably slap him. But thankfully, he's just teasing. No violence necessary.

"That was bad, right?" you bite your lip, trying to pull your dress down. It's torn at the sides, the fabric tainted with release and sweat. You can't even begin to imagine how you look.

"Bad?" he looks over, concerned and frowning.

"I mean what we just did," you confirm quickly, "I mean it was good, obviously...."

"Obviously," he muses, searching the floor, "I'm not sure these are gonna work."

Your torn panties dangle from his finger, looking very sorry for themselves. You sigh, closing your eyes in dismay. You won't be able to return to the party, but you also can't walk through it and back out to the red carpet like this.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do."

"Isn't your assistant here? Ask her to bring a car around the back," he shrugs as if it's easy, still teaching you things about the industry you've been a part of for years now. He is the king of it all, after all.

"Where's the back?"

He rolls his eyes, "kids of the industry. You're all inexperienced."

"We're the same age," you point between you both.

"You know that's not what I mean."

You sigh, unable to bear the thought of having to see Harriet. She'll know immediately what you've been doing, and even though she's one of your best friends, she still flocks around you like your decisions are life changing. She'd be incredibly disappointed to see you fucked out, shaky legged and looking a wreck at a VIP event.

"I'll get you a car," he says, pulling his phone free, "and take you to the back. It'll be discreet, you won't be seen."

"Are you sure? What if your girlfriend-"

"I told you she left."

"Well you're a liar," you bite back, catching his eyes, which suddenly fill with unexpected guilt, "I saw her on my way in here."

"Well aren't you a naughty girl," he drawls, "perhaps you should've stayed away."

"Perhaps you should take your own advice."

"Hmm," he does that a lot, and you like it - you barely suppress a smile despite the seriousness of the conversation, having to bow your head, "I can't leave with you. Don't take it to heart."

"Like I said, I wouldn't expect anything less from a ladies man."

The disappointment from you calling him that returns, but he looks towards his phone quickly, calling you a car. You wonder who on earth will turn up, it's not exactly like you can get in a Uber in this state and risk being seen. But weirdly, you trust Alex, sure he'll make the right calls, the right decisions even if he's only ever proved otherwise to you.

"Me girlfriend is calling me," he runs a hand through his hair, "the back is opposite the bar. You can walk through the corridor to the right of the toilets and it will lead you straight to the exit. Staff will know if you get lost, and they're obligated to keep it zipped, so don't worry."

"You aren't taking me there?"

He sighs, "I'd love to doll," he shifts, looking fairly unaffected despite what you've both just done, "but we've already addressed that my girlfriend is waiting for me, haven't we?"

You both exit the stall, you're relieved to find that no one is in here for the moment. Just as Alex's hand lays on the handle, after a less than hearty goodbye, his mind clearly preoccupied with explaining where he's been - you hold it shut. Your other hand stretches out, and you look into his eyes with a determination that's rare from you.

"You promised to make it snow. Barely a flake landed in my hand, Alex."

He raises an eyebrow, amusement rippling through his now honey coloured eyes.

"So you do like being bought," he chuckles, reaching into his pocket and pulling the baggie out, "it's pure but be careful."

"Transactional," you shrug, "it seems fitting."

You tuck the baggie into your bra and his gaze wanders down to your outfit once more.

"You truly are gorgeous," he breathes out, before suddenly his lips are on yours, still holding the door tight. It's so fleeting that you barely know what's happened before he's pulled off, "hopefully I'll see you around."

And then he leaves, the only reminder of him being the baggie in your bra and the ache between your thighs.

A/N: This feels naughty to post. This is not a true representation of him, nor the industry. Just a fun little idea. 🥀🙂‍↔️

[brionysea]

Is it just me or did Vi really not get an arc this season 😭? She doesn’t resolve the fact that she places all her worth on protecting those she loves. A lot of her big emotional beats (joining the enforcers, becoming a pit fighter, finding Vander, freeing Jinx and getting imprisoned for all her efforts) happened as a result of Caitlyn or Jinx’s intervention. She has so much oldest sister syndrome she infected the narrative 😇

yes! I think it's an issue of flawed ideas and poor execution. in classic me fashion, I'll go through the whole thing to show you what I mean:

vi joining the enforcers despite everything they've done to her (killing her parents, roughing up her family as kids, chasing them down, coming into the last drop to arrest them and intimidating everyone and almost taking powder, imprisoning and abusing and starving vi for her entire adolescence) because caitlyn asked her to and caitlyn is the Most Important Person in her life right now is the exact kind of thing vi would do. I personally love how temporary the enforcer gig is, despite that going against the lore (I honestly couldn't care less), because vi's CHARACTER in this show goes against the lore. I don't care that she's supposed to be an enforcer in the game. I'm not playing a game. I'm watching a show. the vi I know wouldn't do that, it makes no sense for her character, and it really feels like that's the point. she's losing herself for the sake of what caitlyn wants in a very clever way to address whoever demanded the show be more accurate to the game (which, again, I AM NOT PLAYING. BECAUSE THIS IS A SHOW THAT'S MORE THAN CAPABLE OF STANDING ON ITS OWN) without betraying the characters. this is the kind of freedom that would have made for a truly stellar season: going where the story is led naturally by its characters rather than being trapped by a pre-determined narrative

then in vi's fight with jinx (which, fine, I guess vi *would* decide that 'jinx isn't powder anymore' means 'my sister is dead'; she's single minded like that, even if it felt rushed), there's suddenly a random child in the crossfire and vi's like oh. okay. I can't actually hurt innocent children the way I was hurt. I do, in fact, have principles, and they dictate that I intervene rather than allow this to play out. and it turns out that when the chips are down caitlyn doesn't actually care about the undercity because she risked killing an innocent child and wants to kill jinx knowing she's vi's sister (and said that jinx, a young mentally ill girl from the undercity, killing caitlyn's mother, one of the richest and most powerful women in piltover, is the same as vi's parents being killed by enforcers while fighting to end the oppressive social order they enforce. it's not.) and basically says that she thought vi was 'one of the good ones' but she's exactly like all those other animals (again, because vi refused to let cait open fire on a child), before literally gut-punching her and leaving her there. vi was right before, they're oil and water, they're too different. and now vi's lost her sister; lost cait; the rest of her family is still dead. she has no money. no power. nowhere to go. nobody to protect. what's even the point of her?

and then we reach the second act. vi has no purpose so she's like well I'm just gonna fight people for money. because she'll win. obviously. she's a mess, she's drinking all the time, she's seeing jinx and caitlyn everywhere (people really breeze over how vi sees things too - definitely to a lesser degree than jinx, but when she hits rock bottom, it's there). I love this set up for vi. it makes so much sense that putting all her energy into caring for others would end up here. like a message from the universe that she needs to learn to do things for herself or she'll always end up back in this hole. you could argue that vi not having a lot of agency and just following jinx or caitlyn around until she ends up stuck in that cell (her ✨️ prison of the mind ✨️ or whatever jinx's imaginary, out of character, ghost silco was talking about), while boring (so boring), is more of vi being stubborn and stuck in her ways and refusing to learn her lesson until she's forced to. which she was also like in season 1, except there, it was more like vi repeatedly trying to solve problems that were much too big to be punched away by punching them (vi thought jinx could brute force her way out of being traumatised), and even then, I didn't get the impression that vi cared enough about the council to actually give up on jinx because of what she did to them. vi's a brick wall of a woman. sometimes, in this bitch of a world, stubbornness is a virtue

the problem, like a lot of things that had potential in season 2, is that it's not actually followed through on. there's no self actualisation for vi. she just cares about jinx until she doesn't and then she has sex with cait (who does not actually atone for any of the shit she did btw) in the prison cell where vi's sister was just planning suicide and is currently going through with it elsewhere, as far as vi knows

I think the intention was for vi having sex with cait instead of chasing after jinx to be the first selfish thing in her life (which jinx basically told her to do, because no one hates piltover anymore even though they haven't changed at all or done anything to earn this 'meet us halfway' demand of feeling entitled to zaun's bodies for their war after poisoning those same bodies for who knows how long. jinx never called vi an idiot for dating an enforcer. in fact, she feels bad for nuking the council :( which means she's good now! 👍 because GOOD characters are NICE to piltover and only BIG MEANIES care about zaun's independence. even silco's ghost thinks it's a waste of time! apparently he was just bitter and unloved, like a child throwing a tantrum! sure. sure! why not!), but it falls apart immediately because 1) jinx told vi she's going to kill herself (vi knew what jinx was planning before she asked, you can hear the fear in her voice), which obviously takes priority - never in a million years would vi let jinx disappear like that without doing anything about it, no matter how self actualised she is, because STOPPING YOUR SISTER FROM COMMITTING SUICIDE IS A NORMAL THING TO DO. well, maybe not normal, but you know what I mean. it's not exclusively a vi-ism. it's common sense. if someone you love tells you they're going to commit suicide, you do everything in your power to prevent it. and 2) CAIT IS NOT ACTUALLY REDEEMED FROM ALL THE SHIT SHE DID TO THE UNDERCITY. yes, cait letting jinx escape was symbolic of her letting go of the obsession that drove her to that point, but she didn't actually hurt jinx (except now jinx is free to off herself because of cait, which vi would be angry about if she hadn't spontaneously forgotten what she learned in the previous scene). despite her personal vendetta, cait couldn't catch jinx to even attempt to hurt her. who she DID hurt was the undercity at large, and she has no way of making up for that. they dropped the zaun plotline like a hot potato so there's no narrative opportunity for cait to prove to vi (and to the audience) that she gets it now. that she's done being a fascist and vi isn't just blinded by her hotness (which would be a strange angle to take but that's honestly what it seems like. it's so shallow and out of place with everything going on). none of this is earned enough for vi to choose a quickie in a cell over stopping her suicidal sister from blowing herself up

TLDR; there was an attempt at an arc, which was foiled by tying it so closely to caitvi, which was tied to the politics of the piltover-zaun conflict, which was never resolved and thus made vi's arc feel unsatisfying

[mrs-monaghan]

HEAR ME OUT!!!

The cult just a few days ago was harping on tkk's same cardigan then JK came to rain on their parades changing bammie's profile pic with the same exact clothes Jimin was seen wearing rnrkdjdbdjd

Shaz, JK really hates the cult it's insane 🤣😭 Like, he doesn't need to do any of all those things but he lives to torment them. Why is he so—😭😭😭

Mr Jeon Jungkook thinks the vermin suck ass. You heard it here first ☺

On this post here and here I talked about the times JK has debunked V. This also includes when Tkk went for that premiere and then later JK came live which was clearly to show us that he went home ALONE. You know, since the idea of V and JK living together is preposterous

🤣😂🤣 I'm sorry man, that will never not be funny. N let's not forget even though he had spent the day with V and wooga squad, he didn't mention them once. He just went on and on about the movie. Says alot.

Also to include is when V went live at JK's only for JK to make his own live (while folding his calvins) after Vhope had left just so he could let us know V's live was not his call ☕

This is what the man does and has been consistent about it for years...

Which brings me to this video i took from a vermin.

She was going on and on about how inseparable Tkk are. But here is what I noticed that she didn't. Host asks;

V replies;

He makes it seem like it happens everyday or all the time. Did JK let that slide? Hell no. Of course man's had to clarify.

ONLY when there's no gig the next day. Then he took it a step further to specify that when they did play, it wasn't all night. Just up until 2 or 3AM.

Now, antis like to say that shipping makes the guys uncomfortable and makes them change how they behave with eo bla, bla, bla. While I don't believe that to be the case at all, I do believe that the vermin are the reason why JK does this. Because of their treatment of Jimin its like JK decided he will never let them enjoy tkk moments without him tainting them somehow 🤣😂 And I ain't gonna sit here and pretend I don't love this about JK

[angellissy]

Take my breath away

Rupert Campbell Black x Taggie O'Hara

I binged Rivals and developed an obsession, so here is my poor attempt of portraying these lovestruck idiots. Set sometime after episode 9 but with no real mention of what happens in the last episode. I hope you enjoy!

Her hands were soaked in the soapy water where she had been washing plate after plate for what seemed like hours. Whenever she thought she was finally done making the food, cleaning the tables, or washing the dishes, her mother always had a new task waiting for her. Taggie was fucking exhausted. Her mother didn’t really care, she did not even seem to notice that she was driving her daughter into complete and utter exhaustion. This was not new to Taggie, this had been her life for as long as she could remember. Sometimes she imagined herself telling her mother to bugger off and do something by herself for once, but then the weight of guilt came crashing down and Taggie forgot every notion of ever standing up to her mother. 

She wiped a soapy hand across her brow and let out a heavy sigh, the same exact one that Gertrude used to let out when she plopped down in the hallway after a long stroll in the woods. Another sigh, a softer one, escaped her now as she thought of her companion. The one gift from her parents that had felt like a gift for her. Taggie had been twelve and struggling in school, her dyslexia making her lag behind her classmates who teased her relentlessly for it. “Tag-tag taggie” they used to call her, playing on the fact that she choked on her words and involuntarily had to repeat them. She barely uttered a word when she got home, terrified that she would get the same teasing treatment there. Her dad had been the one to notice the way she had started curling into herself and how her breath caught in her throat whenever he asked about her day at school. His parents had hoped that caring for a dog might make her more confident and sure of her abilities, but most of all Gertie had become her most trusted companion. 

She thought of her now, the scruffy dog currently sat outside in the dark, forbidden by Maude to be in the house when they had guests. Taggie made a mental note to give Gertie those lamb treats she adores, she deserved it after an evening all alone in the dark. Though perhaps Gertrude had drawn the longest straw, a night alone and away from the maddening crowd her mother called friends sounded like an absolute delight. 

Her thoughts were interrupted when her father came barging into the kitchen, slamming a box of Venturer posters on the countertop. 

“Hard at work eh?” Her father asked teasingly as he nodded at her frozen frame. Taggie looked down and realized that her wandering thoughts had given her the inability to do two things at once. 

She started “Oh I was just.-” but before she could even get the words out he interrupted her “Look we just got this new shipment of Venturer posters and I thought that you could head out tomorrow and hand them out at the town fair?” 

She was not sure if she had nodded or not, but her father beamed and clapped down on her shoulder “I knew you’d always be up to help!”

Her lips turned into a small but tired smile at that, for how could she say no now? It was not like she had anything else to do. However she never really got to figure out what else she could do when her parents were always finding tasks for her. She didn’t mind helping out, she just wished they would actually ask. 

She looked down at the pile of still dirty dishes in the sink,  let out another heavy sigh, and was just to start again when another presence entered the kitchen. Her back was turned but she knew without looking who it was. His energy was so palpable to her, it always felt as if it tugged at her, urging her closer to him. Despite not seeing him, Taggie O’Hara would know Rupert Campbell Black in any room. She wasn’t quite sure she wanted to turn around, their last meeting in this kitchen had ended with his lips on hers. It wasn’t that it had been bad, quite the opposite actually. She hadn’t known before that a kiss could be like that, passionate and sweet. He had savored it, seeming unable to tear himself away, and when he did his chest had heaved and they had been so close she could feel the way his heart beat. His hands had been tangled into her hair and hers had been under his suit jacket, itching to touch his skin. They stood like that for a while, seemingly in a trance, and only backed away from each other when Maude’s shrill laugh sounded from not too far away. The last thing Taggie wanted was for her mother to find her and Rupert, she had a knack for turning a nice thing ugly and Taggie desperately wanted for this to be a nice thing. 

Rupert cleared his voice and she turned around, feeling how her cheeks turned rosy just by the sight of him leaning against the door frame. 

“Hello” She said a little uncertainly wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. His lips curved upwards as he returned her greeting. His smile fell a little when he took in the dark circles under her eyes and how she kept blinking rapidly as if forcing herself to stay awake. “You alright there darling?” He took a few steps closer and she backed into the kitchen sink, feeling it slowly making an indent in her lower back. “Y-yes all good” He raised an eyebrow at her but did not question her, knowing that it was quite impossible to get her to admit defeat. 

“Well I was coming to ask you a question, I was wondering if you possibly would join me going to the city on Saturday? I am there for official MP business-” He winked at her and then continued “but thought that perhaps we could take the opportunity to promote Venturer.” 

“I’d love to!” She said, barely letting him finish which made his cheeks twitch ever so slightly. Her pinks turned a darker shade of red as she reconsidered her quick reply and she quickly looked down at her forest green socks to avoid the intensity of his stare.

“Splendid darling! Now let’s get you to bed, shall we?” Taggie looked at him in surprise, opened her mouth to say something then closed it and instead gestured to the dishes. “You don’t need to do everything today, come with me.” It was probably a mix of her tiredness and the slightly authoritative tone in his voice that made her follow him upstairs to her bedroom. With his back turned against her she quickly changed into her red nightdress, she hoped, perhaps a bit devilishly, that it would remind him of their first dance. She cleared her throat and he turned around, at the sight of her he smiled so brightly that she found her smiling with him. 

“Lady in red” He said so softly that she almost missed it. With two long strides, he was in front of her and his hands snaked around her waist. She shivered and felt goosebumps follow his hands. She looked up at him and let her hands travel up from his arms to his face. She gently touched his cheek and he drew a long ragged breath. “I promised myself I wouldn’t find myself with you like this again” 

“I thought you were smart enough not to make pointless promises,” She said a small smile on her lips. “You’re too good for me Tags” Though as he said it she felt his fingers curl against the fabric of her dress, pulling her a little closer. “You’ve changed” She whispered, because it was true. “Not enough” he murmured as he dipped his forehead against hers. She could feel his warm breath against her skin and she swallowed. The nearness of him was driving her mad. She could feel his thumb making circles on the fabric-clad skin of her waist and her hands found themselves traveling down to his neck, she could feel his pulse beneath her fingers. His eyes moved from her eyes to her lips and he let out a soft sigh. “It is enough for me,” She said before pulling him closer by his neck and softly pressing her lips against his. His body tensed for the shortest of moments before he relaxed into her, purely giving in. She savored the taste of him and the small sound he made in the back of his throat when she pressed herself closer. 

She was not sure how much time had passed when he pulled away, eyes glassy and lips swollen. He gave her a small smile as he nodded towards her bed and her eyes widened the tiniest bit, did he mean for them to..? 

A small laugh escaped his throat and he shook his head at her “Gods you will be the death of me, I meant that it was time for you to get some rest” To riled up to say anything Taggie simply nodded and crept under the covers, still looking at him from beneath her lashes. He too was still looking at her, seeming unable to pull his gaze away. He sat down on the edge of her bed and his hand came up to brush away the strand of auburn hair that had fallen in front of her face. 

“You really should be resting more you know” He did not seem quite himself as he uttered the words, gone was the charm and confidence replaced by a tone of concern. Taggie gave him a tired smile and said with a hint of bitterness in her tone “You should tell my parents that.” He nodded as if considering it and the mere thought of him even considering talking to her parents because he cared about her made Taggie’s heart constrict in a way she had never experienced before. She was almost sure she was going to cry. Who was this man who kissed her as if she was the air he breathed, asked her for help when everyone else just took it for granted and, who seemed to genuinely care about her well being? “I am just kidding, I wouldn’t wish for anyone to try telling my mother that she might consider treating me differently, she can be quite vicious you know.” Taggie forced a smile as she said it, but it felt slightly unnatural. He leaned down and brushed a kiss against her temple. “I’d do anything for you. angel” His tone was so serious that she felt completely overwhelmed with emotions. Then all of a sudden his warm presence was removed and he walked away “I’ll pick you up on Saturday.” She did not have time to reply before he was out of her room. She listened to the sounds of his shoes on the gravel outside her window and only closed her eyes when she heard the roaring of his engine driving away. 

Taggie slept more soundly than she had done in ages.

[rom-e-o]

A consideration to brighten your day:

Emmrich and Wifey stretched out on the couch cuddling, Em's head resting on her chest as she strokes his head and shoulders, humming softly.

Then Manfred comes along, sees, and, like a clingy toddler pushes/pulls Emmrich up and away from Wifey's embrace. "No! Me! Me!" He quickly crawls right into Em's previous spot and settles stubbornly, and happily, there on Mum's chest. And she just laughs and comfortably snuggles him in with kisses all over his skull.

But also!

The exact same thing happening but flipped, with Manny forcing Wifey out of Papa's snuggles and replacing her.

Awwwww, this is too precious!!! 🥹💕

Wifey just stroking his hair softly, placing a kiss on his hairline and earning a besotted chuckle. They’re curled up on the chaise together after a long day. They’ve both just collapsed in a heap, tired from a long day. Maybe he and Guinevere have just come back from mingling at a long soirée, or he and Belisma are relaxing after a day of practicing funerary rites. Something that has tuckered both of them out, and requires some refueling through quality time.

The couple is lounging away, when Manfred pops his head in the door. “Papa? Mama/Mum?”

He sees them cuddling, and after only a moment, jingle-jangles his way inside. Those jeweled doorknobs (?) in his eyes rotate slightly upward.

Manfred, surprisingly strong, squeezes his way in. Emmrich gives his boy an incredulous chuckle (“Manfred, my boy, honestly!”) while Wifey just laughs. They allow themselves to be separated while Manfred settles over Wifey, cuddling like a little kitten or toddler. I feel like G’iney might be more familiar with seeing those toddler moments in him and identifying them as such (since she has siblings) but Belisma is just as amused and endeared to his antics.

W: Aww, Manfred! Why, hello there.

E: Was he jealous?

Manfred lets out a little hiss, inching closer to his mom while she laughs and leave little lipstick-marked kisses on his skull.

W: Not anymore, haha! I’m sorry, my dear. I’m afraid you’ve been replaced.

E: (mock offense) ‘Replaced’?

W: Look on the bright side - you were just saying how you wanted to change into your dressing gown but didn’t want to get up to do it. So, he just decided to lend a bit of a helping hand. In his own, charming way, of course.

E: As always. (Rolling his eyes with a laugh) Manfred, always so helpful.

M: (Pleased hiss)

I love little Manfred doing it to both of them, haha. Emmrich claims at first Manfred is just an apprentice and friend, but we know better. Once he and Wifey are together, I imagine some of that childlike wonder/possessiveness comes out a little bit more. And especially after Manfred gives his life for Emmrich, and he brings him back? There are many more hugs and soft gestures.

The next time, when Wifey and him and snuggling and getting ready to exchange some kisses (maybe get a little handsy) Manfred suddenly shuffles over, gloved hands going to Wifey’s shoulders. He pulls her back, and SHAMELESSLY settles right in her spot, kicking his little boot-covered feet in glee at his antics. Emmrich lets out a loud laugh and Wifey feigns shock.

E: Oh, you little scoundrel!

M: (Mischievous hiss)

W: Oh, I see how it is.

They exchange loving looks over Manfred’s giggly skull. This is their life now, they think, and honestly. It’s perfect. Emmrich settles and arm around his boy and kisses his forehead. “Oh, Manfred. Whatever in the world would we do without you?”

And neither of them will have to ever know. 💕

[sweetmariihs2]

A rant about girlhood, autism and growing up: feeling like you didn't grew up enough.

I grew up and I still love childish things. I love dolls, I love cartoons, I love girlish music and clothing, I love fictional characters, and overall I love the overall girlhood experience. But it's not the "I've grown up and I'm trying to get back to it" kind of thing that we always see on social media, what I mean is that I never really grew up. The years have passed since I was a little girl and I still love Barbie and Disney, but not as in a way like "I'm an adult, I consume adult content, and every now and then I watch some animated films, I admit that I like them, but I still live a more mature life", but rather "I never stopped being who I was as a child". All my tastes are still the same. I don't balance mature TV shows/content with cartoons, I only watch cartoons... most of the time.

I'm going through a transition phase now into adulthood... high school is about to end and everyone around me seems to have matured more than I have, even the girls who are known for listening to Lana Del Rey and wearing Coquette fashion, which is a group I fit in with very well too. Apart from the girls who are practically adults (and who already have a romantic and financial life, speak in a mature way, and are already considered women) I also feel more immature than the girls I identify with the most due to them liking "immature" things.

I feel mature enough to think and make responsible decisions; I have a lot of emotional maturity and people tell me that I give great advice. But at the same time, on the other hand, I run to my room full of objects from my childhood and spend some time reading, talking, and listening to music about characters from media that are mostly made for children.

One good thing about still loving the exact same things you loved as a child is that you will always have the same things from when you were little today, and you won't get tired of them. The bad thing, however, is that I feel weird about not "growing up." I guess liking these things is a part of me, but at the same time I can't help but feel like the gap between my childhood and adulthood is sometimes too small. I hear people talking about growing up, talking about the infantilization of my generation, I see others who used to be like me now being very different and it's a natural process... but is it infantilization even when I'm just being myself? What would be "infantilization" about my tastes in the eyes of others that to me are just part of who I am as a person? I don't see myself not liking my favorite genre of movies, clothes, music, art, just because I decided to "cure" myself from a supposed "infantilization". I do wonder if I'm unwell for loving the stuff that I love... but it's in a "am I ill for being who I am?" kind of way. It must be awful supressing what is in your heart because people see it as an illness.

I am responsible with my words and behavior and I often see "mature" people making decisions that to me are immature, like being impulsive. It's like I'm somewhere in between maturity and childishness and I get pushed back and forth by people on both sides of the way; I don't fit in with either one, but sometimes I do, for a short period of time until I get pushed back to the other side again. Too mature for children and too childish for adults.

I constantly feel nostalgic about things I used to like, and I feel like the line between past and current tastes is very thin at this point in my life. It confuses me and I think about people's words about growing up, but how can I grow up if I'm already mature and that's who I am? When I was a child I expected to grow up and turn into an adult adult, like if this would just happen naturally. Now I grew up and turned into an adult version of the tiny version of myself. Still and adult, still me, but not normal enough for others, apparently. Sometimes I feel melancholic because as a child I was free to like the things that I still love today without any judgement... well, sometimes. Let's not talk about bullying.

I watch Toy Story, I sometimes feel the urge to play with my toys, I feel like carrying them around with me like a child, but I fight the urge not to do it because I have to adapt - or rather, be an adult.

The fact that I'm autistic (I was diagnosed at the beginning of the year) also probably plays a big role in this, which is another situation that I've been balancing throughout all these years, as I was very normal for the weirdos and too weird for the normals, making me not fit into any of these boxes and consequently just being excluded from social groups for being too weird and being deprived of possible support and inclusion for being too normal. The fact that I hyperfocus on "childish" topics says a lot about my life and the media I consume, because suddenly my mind is completely occupied with things like Sofia The First, and I externalize this a lot. I collect children's magazines of this show, I want to have the toys, I want to dress the toys in clothes. It's normalized on the Internet for people to be from fandoms considered childish, the problem is that I'm often seen as childish even by them. Making a friend who likes The Amazing Digital Circus and having to explain to them that I'm genuinely very passionate about Sofia The First always provokes laughter and I have to laugh too and imitate a "hear me out" behavior in order to be socially accepted. "You shouldn't adapt to please others! Be yourself!" Unfortunately, this is how it is to be yourself in today's world, using tactics to remain true to yourself while acting like it's no big deal until that friend gets used to you like this.

Being an artist is also something that seems to be involved. I like animations to dissect the characters and understand the artistic choices in the writing, design, soundtrack. I don't just like a character or a work, I open it up and analyze every aspect because I love art. When I get a doll in my hands I look at its proportions, design, color palette, I know its backstories, fears and character development within the work they were in. I genuinely love listening to Disney songs, Barbie songs, My Little Pony, and even cringy anime rap... The fact that I am an artist and hyper-focus on animations and love having collectibles (mostly toys, since they are programs for children)...

You know that scene in Toy Story 2 where we see Jessie's owner, Emily, grows up and left her childhood behind, and in the end she gives Jessie away with her toy collection? I feel like I'm an Emily who grew up and kept loving horses and Jessie. I grew up, but I'm still the way I am, and even though I like that, questioning it makes me a little dysmorphic...

People talk about it like it's a defect, and point fingers to other who do the same to say that they're infantilizing themselves. To a point that when I go to the mirror and when I see myself I wonder how did I grew up so quick. I wonder if the problem is my body growing too fast or my maturing process being too slow. But I matured, I think mature, I just love childish stuff, and this makes me overwhelmed. I want to be who I am but being who I am makes me confused and insecure. "Am I doing the right thing by... being myself?" "Am I mentally ill for staying like this, acting like a child even though I'm a grown up?" "Do I even act like a child? I know that I don't, that's not it." Could my desire to be able to carry a toy around with me be related to autistic people having stuffed animals/objects to regulate themselves?

Sometimes I feel the urge to put a doll in my bag and carry her with me throughout my whole day, touch and admire her closely when bored, look at the fabric, paint and sculpt and then have fun taking pics of her doing different activities just seems so nice. I sometimes wanna have awkward conversations and talk about my silly little cartoons like I'm a child talking with not so many social norms like adults usually do. I wanna sit and watch my favorite genre of media, animation, without being whispered about or laugh at; and by that I don't mean someone who watches cartoons sometimes, I mean someone who only sees that stuff. I want to dress up like a princess and make tea parties because I love the simplicity and innocence about those things. Gosh, I'm even waiting for my little cousin to grow up just little a bit more for her to be able to play with dolls with me, cuz I want to go back with playing with them and there is not even a single living soul in my whole social circle that wouldn't judge me if spoke about this!!!

I feel like I'm a little girl in an adult body sometimes, but I do feel like an adult too. I don't understand if I'm like this because I'm autistic, I'm an artist, or if I'm doing something wrong, like infantilizing myself. I don't behave like a child, and I don't do anything for anyone, I enjoy my tastes for myself! The feminine urge of being confused and happy about yourself at the same time. It's a real struggle.

[aroacedavestrider]

where in the world do you live where you call it a hydroslurp???? that is a WATER FOUNTAIN

original poll by @t4tfaggot

[turtleblogatlast]

AU starts here!

Previous |

Here we have just a taste of Path A - also known as “All Together Now.” If you’re confused - good! Things will make sense in time, trust me.

[cipheramnesia]

Like, I don't really know what else to say. Twenty producers' notes in a trenchcoat. Visible seams from where the parts of Aliens and Alien 4 got stitched in. 1979 Alien without the brain or the heart, hollow echoes of ideas passed through bloodless marketing department hands, relics with some long forgotten purpose. "Get Away From Her You Bitch" reverently inscribed as a holy talisman of protection. Characters wander through a dead ship, unknowingly echoing their journey through the dead script of Alien, lost and yearning for something they can't understand while they travel to their inevitable conclusions - to be whole characters, complete in and of themselves, rather than vacuous ghosts trying to sustain themselves on your memories of that time the same thing happened in Alien.

It would almost be brilliant if it were intentional. A digital fake of Ian Holm creating a fake version of a fake person that's used to lie to the characters in the film and put a fake personality into the film's android. There's too many bitter layers of metaphor. The ship meant to remind everyone of the Nostromo forcibly attached to the shitty falling apart facility for mass producing Aliens. No one who's supposed to care for Wish-Ripley actually cares about her. The creature barely has enough energy to make it on screen and has to go through a second round of incubation before it's revealed as yet one more generically underwhelming version of the creature that somehow hasn't had a better version made in almost fifty years now. Look at how hard it had to work just to be some figment of the original. Everyone is surrounded by swarms of ambulatory dicks trying to fuck them over. The alien's most frighting appearance is before it's born. I don't know, it's this Rube Goldberg contraption fully unaware of what a great job it's doing explaining why it's so bad at doing its one simple job. There's nothing there. There's no movie in this movie, it's a bunch of stuff that's supposed to be on screen for Alien movies, and it ends with a third grade play about vegetables version of repeating nearly the exact same final dialog as Alien. It's fine, it's horribly, awfuly depressingly fine, a shrug in the infinite void of sequels, another average blended smoothie of unflavored cinematic protein, a profit margin in someone's accounting software somewhere, checking off a box, a pizza hot pocket that's all crust.

It's a draining movie to watch, as if somehow my sense of joy and wonder has measurably dropped, and I need to go find sustenance in better works of art to regain that spark. Not a movie that hates its audience but a movie that exists only to extract money, time, and memory. It wears its middling vampirism on its sleeve and has no ulterior motive besides making you worse for having seen it.

I have had an opportunity to see Alien Romulus for free.

[housecow]

I am surprised that you still can't find a partner. You're gorgeous, interesting and cute at the same time.

(probably because you may be a federal agent)

i suffer from “can’t communicate effectively because of anxiety” BUT it’s getting a lot better!!!

i’ve also had a lot of “you are great but i’m seeing someone else now, bye” experiences. like, this happened three times. two in one year 😭 it takes a while to get over that and restore your self confidence, lol!!

[litres-of-cocaine]

i appreciate that aidan gallagher is now Of Age but it’s still a bit strange to be making thirst traps of what was a child in the recent past, using clips from when he was like. fourteen. in those kinds of videos