#but fuck. nobody just says what they're feeling in this damn show!!!

[kushamisaru]

Hey who wants to be even sadder about Mizi and Till

[torasplanet]

been thinking a lot about frat!toman and being their sweetheart. i have many ideas but the one stuck on me is when they all just can't get enough of you! they all share but it's getting to a point where they're damn near ready to go through a barbaric war for you.

mikey, the frat prez, would treat you like an absolute princess like the most of them but with him you really are. he can do what he wants and say what he wants meaning you get whatever you want but he doesn't particularly enjoy it when you get mouthy. nobody else does either.

the only one who really seems to like it is nahoya, it really gets him going when you tell everyone how it is and make demands. what else gets him going is when he gets you to shut all that shit up. it's funny to him almost. you get a little bit of dick and everything you tried to stand on matters much less than before, in fact you've forgotten about it.

mitsuya is such a sweetheart when it comes to the frat sweetheart. he treats you like fine china, of course he has his moments but he's nowhere as rough as some of the others can be...he's your favorite, for a reason.

draken is also a nice one but don't get him wrong, he's very quick to snap you back into place if you're being too much of a...brat, he'd say. he's also king of casual dominance. he's sort of a mitsuya mixed with a baji. he'll always make sure you're okay while he's treating you and whatever you call that nasty thing between your thighs like nothing but a cumdump.

speaking of him, baji is such a tease. he's mean, to say the least. he likes to show you off, he's not scared of people knowing about the situation going on the frat. in his words, most people already think frat sweethearts get fucked like you. he can be nice, he's a gentleman of course but most of the time, he is such a meanie !!

however, this doesn't make him the meanest. chifuyu, whether you believe it or not, can be pretty fucking mean. he's such a sweetie, he loves you and adores you yet when you get him upset, he's torturing your poor clit for hours to the point you wish that nahoya was the one pissed off !! don't even get me started on how filthy his mouth will get...

kazutora is the real sweetheart though, him and souya both. kazutora is always so gentle with you, he takes you out on dates and treats you before he even thinks about getting between your legs. speaking of, he is a real eater !! he can cum just from eating you out and then he's satisfied for the day. but with the way he likes to cum, you'll be getting eaten out until kazutora has to get rid of his pants because of how much he stained them.

souya by far has to be the best gentleman. he waited so long to fuck you, he knew you were sore from the recent relationships in the frat and he wanted you to really feel him and everything he has to offer. he still does the same. he refuses to fuck you if someone else already had soon before him, the most he'll do is foreplay and enough to make you cum untouched. he hates seeing your pretty pussy all spoiled with someone else's cum!! all he wants is to stare at how his cum is so sheer spread all over your thighs and cunt.

but what they all fight about is who gets to do your aftercare and taking you out. as much as they love seeing you all fucked out, they love seeing that sweet smile when they give you a surprise date. the toman frat boys simply adore you !!

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

[aclockmaker]

Part 2 now here

Okay to expand on this I just think: Steve who’s been in a couple of tv shows and is having a moment, famous offscreen for his hair and his charm and onscreen for his ability to find chemistry with anyone (and also, again, his hair).

And Eddie who is a complete unknown; he’s been in some stage productions and had the tiniest bit parts on TV but nobody’s ever, like, recognized him on the street.

Eddie auditions for a new HBO show. When his agent tells him that Steve Harrington is already attached Eddie is like cool, I’ll never get this part but the audition will be good practice so why not. They’re never gonna cast him. He’s sure he’s playing it too weird, and he hasn’t cut his hair (but he will when a part needs him to) but then he gets a callback. Twice.

And then he’s getting called in to do a chemistry test with some of the other actors. The show is like a modern Freaks and Geeks but with a slow burn murder mystery, and Eddie’s actually dead in the main timeline but about half the show is told in flashbacks so it’s a big part. When he meets Steve he doesn’t know what he’s expecting from the paparazzi darling but the guy is super genuine, makes Eddie feel way more comfortable than he has so far. They do their read together and Eddie is just thinking to himself like… damn, this guy really is good, because that felt crazy. He’s acted opposite some insanely talented people but it’s never been that easy. That must just be what it’s like working with Steve.

And now it’s dangerous because he really wants the part. He wants to stop bartending to make rent. He wants to be on this show, because the pages he’s seen are good, and he thinks he could really bring something to it. And because he wants to work with Steve. And even the rest of the cast, too, but—

The day Eddie gets the part he gets a text from a number he doesn't know. Hey man, really looking forward to working with you. And then, a few minutes later, It's Steve btw. He's smiling down at his phone so much that his agent, whose office he's in, is like "What, did you just score another life-changing opportunity I don't know about?" And Eddie is like "Nope, just the one, uh—it's just my uncle saying congrats. Anyway—"

They don't make him cut his hair. They don't tell him to stop playing it so weird. Everything goes so well that it feels fucking hard to believe, in fact, like he's just waiting for the other shoe to drop. There's one group of them playing seniors in high school, the main foursome of which is Eddie, Steve, and their two girl costars, Nancy and Robin. And then there's a younger group playing freshmen whose story intersects with theirs.

His and Steve's characters are set up as opposites, almost rivals, and at least at first, you're presumably supposed to wonder if it's Steve's rich, popular guy who's killed Eddie's character. Nobody in the cast knows the truth yet; the scripts get revealed to them as they're shooting them and they've been told the murderer won't even be revealed in the first season (so here's hoping they get renewed, because Eddie would really like to know who killed him—and he'd also like to keep making HBO money).

Their scenes are some of Eddie's favorites to film (although he also has a soft spot for the kids—especially Dustin who plays a hilarious and awesome nerd who does D&D with Eddie's DM). Eddie hopes his and Steve's stuff is working on whatever level they ultimately need it to work on—sometimes they do get notes that tell them to pull back or dig into something, to emphasize something else, so he has to trust that they're doing the right things.

They often film out of order so when they eventually film the scene where Eddie and Steve's characters have their first run-in at school, it's far from the first time they've shot together. They get all up in each other's faces in the scene, and they've run the lines, done a table read, but acting it out at full intensity is. A lot. Steve's character is mad because he thinks Eddie's character is trying to steal his girlfriend (really she was just buying drugs from him). The way Steve plays it is all simmering intensity, the threat of violence just under the surface, and this is where Eddie doesn't know if he's reading something into it that isn't there. Because for him, there's also another kind of tension between them. And he doesn't know if it's his real life bleeding into the character; if it's just how Steve can't help being with everyone; or if it's a legitimate part of the scripts that they're supposed to be picking up on and exploring. He doesn't even know if anybody else sees what he does. But they do their takes; nobody tells him he's doing something wrong. And after the director calls cut the first time, Steve winks at him. Just to cut the tension, Eddie thinks, maybe to make him smile, which it does. It's fun watching Steve work, watching him slip into and out of character. He's really easy to work with.

Sometimes they get together to run lines or talk motivation or whatever. “It's crazy, you know," Eddie tells Steve in his trailer one night. Steve's is bigger so all of them usually hang out here. They've been making each other laugh, shooting the shit about increasingly funny backstories for their characters, and Eddie feels high with it. "I mean, you know this is my first real show. It's like—" he gestures between them, trying to encompass everything that happens on-camera and all the fun of working on that off-camera. "I didn't know it would be like this."

"Oh—yeah, man," Steve says and laughs a little self-deprecatingly, running a hand through his hair. "But, I mean, for me, I've done a couple and, with our stuff—it’s never been like this with anyone else, either.”

It's going to be so hard, Eddie thinks, looking back at him, to not read into that more than he should.

[ajearthlinggg]

exposing you based on your fav will wood/wwatt song (my longest post)

A lot of these have nothing to do with the song. They're basically headcannons lmao. My Blake Jennings is showing

No instrumental chnt except Rhumba sorry

i started this in June enjoy

EIAL

6up 5oh copout: its low hanging fruit to say you hate cops, and I'm taking it. You hate cops.

Skeleton Appreciation whatever the fuck: Covid RUINED you

Front Street: you like Heathers

Aikido!: how's that obsessiveness and inability to let go going?

White Knuckle Jerk: you also like nu metal for the same reason. (Its incredibly horny)

Cover This Song: same as Aikido but only with your exes omg do not text them they are assholes

Thermodynamic Lawyer: PLEASE take time to calm down when you get overstimulated I promise if you don't do anything abt it you will have such a terrible mental breakdown

Red Moon: YOU LISTEN TO MALE MANIPULATOR MUSIC STOP TRYING TO HIDE IT YOU CANT BE IN THE RADIOHEAD CLOSET FOREVER

Lysergide daydream: I honestly do not like this song at all so you get a pass (don't kill me)

The First Step: you're usually quiet but you know how to SCREAM.

Jimmy Mushroom: you're usually quiet but- I'm just kidding. You're always quiet

Chemical Overreaction: you're usually quiet but if- I'm just kidding. You are never quiet

Everything is a lot/dte: insomnia. I dont know why,but insomnia

Self-ish

self/ish: closet theatre kid

2012: fast talker to a not comprehendible level

Cotard Solution: turn off the v-sauce it is 2 am

Mr. Capgras: turn off the 🌽 it is 2 am

The Song With Five Names: you have incredible taste. You can't describe that taste, but hey, its incredible

Hand me my shovel: you were the only talented kid in your elementary music class

Dr. Sunshine is Dead: you love the smell of cigarettes

TNA

Suburbia overture: BPD BPD BPD BPD BPD BPD BPD BPD BPD BPD

222: your English teacher loves you (you're so goddamn gay)

Laplace's Angel: your English teacher hates you. How do I know? Because you can't pronounce anything (its la-plass-es not la-place-is)

i/me/myself: you have to beat off the fake fan allegations with a stick everyday

Wbtta: hey queen. How are those hyperfixations going

Outliars and hyppocrates: you spell the title wrong every. damn. time.

bbw: same as 2012 but holy shit triple it.

Marsha, thankk you: dyslexia and ADHD

Love, me normally: I get it. I'm not even gonna expose you. You already have it bad enough

Momento Mori: you are just SO quirky! (knives whisper things to you when you hold them)

Icimi

Tomcat Disposables: you'd shove photos of your pets in your friends faces even if they were dangling off a bridge

Becoming the last names: you either have wonderful parents in a happy relationship or your parents have been divorced for years and you will never relate to this song

Cicada Days: stop using self deprecating humor around the wrong people PLEASE

Euthanasia: this song is a masterpiece I have nothing to say about you.

Falling Up: WONDERFUL TASTE. AMAZING CHOICE. NO RECOLLECTION OF YOUR CHILDHOOD.

That's enough: you love Alex g you just don't know it yet

Um its kind of a lot: you either already love Scott pilgrim or it will happen. Its a canon event

Half decade hangover: omg twinn!! I have an addictive personality, too!

(I feel like this is a good time to say don't take these too seriously)

You liked this: ...what?

The main character: you can't relate to the song, you hate yourself

Sdrr: IF I SEE ONE MORE PERSON TAKING THIS SONG SUPER SERIOUSLY IM GONNA LOSE MY SHIT YDHZJABXV

Bfb: ur just a silly lil guy

Willard!: you're a therian. There is no human explanation to this.

white noise: you love pink floyd you just don't know it yet

Atkf: HOW TF DID I FORGET THIS ONE anyways you get bad habits (nail biting, staying up too late. Etc)

CHNT

Yes to err: you are still waiting for chnt season 2 BC you want to see what happens with Adam

Your body, my temple: I have a strong feeling you have a tummy ache right now

Venetian Blind Man: you love nobody sexually you just don't know it yet (this is a very ace choice idk why)

Rhumba of Death: you LOVE Halloween

When Somebody Needs You: Tyler the Creator is probably your favorite rapper

Live

Trww

Self/ish: You can't sleep if your room has the SLIGHTEST amount of light in it

10-4 6-up: unlike the original, you don't just hate cops, you hate anybody who can tell you what to do (your teachers are probably just trying to do their job. please)

Cotards Solution: you can't sleep without background noise

Dr Sunshine Lives!: You never get sick physically (mentally on the other hand...)

Where do you get off: omg the horniest of the horny. Gerard Way on stage levels of horny. Nine Inch Nails levels of horny. (Or you really like Umbrella Academy idk why)

Aikido: you can't relate to it. You hate everybody

Take a break grab some water this is getting long

Thermodynamic Lawyer: you have gotten kicked out of restaurants because of how loud you are

Front Street: WE GET IT. IT'S BETTER THAN THE ORIGINAL.

Wasting away again: I am so sorry holy shit

Hand me my (x), I'm (y): you suck at algebra

The First Step: you wish you could do the AUGHHHHHHHH

2012: severe social anxiety

Mr capgras: literally the opposite of 2012 (live)

Chemical Overreaction: you know so many random fun facts

Fibrodysplasia: I'm not even gonna talk about your mental issues because I will be banned from this app (which is pretty much impossible)

Icid

Cicada Days: you also get a pass fuck I'm so sorry

The main character okay you ACTUALLY can relate to it

Icimi: OMG I LOVE YOU

atkf: you cry every day even if you aren't sad

Becoming the last names: please don't become a Disney adult

Vampire ref: LISTEN TO MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE I KNOW YOU'VE BEEN PUTTING IT OFF AND IK YOU LOVE HOT VAMPIRE MUSIC

Half decade hangover: oh my god talk to somebody it'll be okay I'm so sorry

Tsw5n: you love the way he says "what the fuck"

Euthanasia: once again, ANOTHER PASS. IM SO SORRY I HOPE YOU'RE OKAY

Jimmy Mushrooms: You. Me. Marriage. Now.

Laplaces Angel: you listen to LitWTC

i/me/myself: you were trying to separate yourself from the normal i/me/myself fans

The first step: idk why but you REALLY like lemonade

skeleton appreciation day: you can NOT play any instrument

tomcat disposables: you love concept albums

White noise: unlike cotards, you need to sleep in SILENCE

Love me normally: arctic monkeys. that's all I have to say. idk what about them but, yeah

misanthrapologist: GAY QUEER LGBT HOMOSEXUAL FRUITY ZESTY ROMANTICALLY ATTRACTED TO PEOPLE OF THE SAME GENDER

Falling up: wonderful taste once again please don't become a Disney adult

thats enough let's get you home: you say "YIPPIE!!" a lot

And if I did: god made you shy because he knew if you weren't you would be unstoppable

[blindmagdalena]

just because antony starr posts so much about his dogs ... how would homelander feel if vought gave him a dog to raise? you know, to bump up his numbers or something so he couldn't get out of it haha

i'm firmly of the opinion that Homelander doesn't like animals, and animals generally don't like him. he's the kind of guy who poses with horses and gets bit. cats hiss at him. dogs tuck their tails and give him whale-eye.

the thing is he was never raised with animals. he doesn't speak their language any better than he speaks our social language. they stink, they shed, they're lesser. pets are just another thing in this world that he was denied, and instead of letting that be one of many heartaches, he chooses disdain. he can't be hurt by it if he never lets himself want it in the first place.

it's precisely because of this that i really enjoy the idea of a dog being foisted onto him. especially one that inexplicably does like him. an excitable young golden retriever that was born and raised under fluorescent lights, destined for doom in a lab, but some genetic or behavioral incompatibility with the project caused it to be rejected.

he'd be extremely put out. there's something infuriating about the way it wags its tail whenever he so much as looks at it. he wants nothing to do with it, and yet it still follows him absolutely everywhere he goes. it barks and whines when he shuts it out of rooms he's in. it drives him crazy that the thing just won't take the hint.

"You're pathetic, you know that?" he says, practically seething. not even he's completely sure why.

he fucking hates the way it begs. those big dumb eyes not understanding his rejection. how it reflexively performs little tricks over and over and over for any scrap of approval, no matter how many times he tells it to go away. hell, it even starts to get excited about that because at least he's paying attention to it, and god, that's all it wants.

"Would you shut up!"

it's just too much. the whining, the hair, the constant demand. it overstimulates him.

deep down, what he hates is how much of himself he sees when he looks at it. the desperate pleading part of him that barks and sits and fetches when told to. the part of him that always obeys. that always wants to obey.

"What is it gonna take for you to get it? I don't want you!"

Nobody wants you. You're not like them.

he never hurts it. never lashes out physically. he's been told what to do with it and for better or worse, he's going to do it. albeit the most bare minimum.

but then he comes home one day and there's no scratch of paws skittering over wood floors. there's no wagging tail, no excited yelps. his gut churns and for a second he thinks the thing must be dead. instead he finds the pup curled up in its bed by the window, staring vacantly out at the skyline.

maybe there's something worse than seeing what you hate about yourself in something else. maybe it's becoming just like the people who made you the way you are.

after weeks of rejecting the thing, he has the audacity to be hurt that it's given up on him.

who gave it that right? why is this stupid little animal allowed to give up when after years and years and years, Homelander is still Vought's show pony?

"Hey!" he snaps, all anger and hurt and rejection.

the dogs ears pin. it looks at him. and there's just... nothing there. no hope, no expectation. who knew a dog could look depressed? he finally got his point across.

and he hates everything about it.

so he kneels down next to the dog bed, jaw tight. he stares for a long while before he just... gives the dog a pat. he's bad at it, his touch stilted and awkward through the glove, but he sits and he pets the damn dog.

eventually, that little tail thumps lightly against the bed, and he feels something tight in his chest loosen slightly.

"Good boy," he says quietly, a little surprised by how easily the words come to him.

he's always thought of praise and affection as something difficult. something hard won. his life doesn't make sense if it isn't.

the dejection doesn't go away instantly. it's a slow thing, like a wilted flower coming back after too many days without water.

but one day he comes home to the skitter of paws and a flurry of fur, and for the first time, it makes him smile.

[alphabetboyluvr]

throttle | jjk - three

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - car sex (yay), talk of wet dreams, jaykay is down so incredibly bad, talk of buying a fuck toy just to cope with how much he wants YOU, reader on top, unprotected sex, huge cawk jk, missionary (in a car! very cramped!! but he does it for YOU <3), jk is chatty during sex (like, actually chatty), mentions of politics, mentions of drugs, the plot is plotting, jin is sexy, namjoon is a prick, jungkook is losing his god damn mind, OH and! the oc is given a nickname - she's CC (ceecee) he he he

word count - 7.5k

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

There's a symbiotic nature to the way in which your bodies move together.

You're the moon, Jungkook your tides.

You work in tandem to turn the earth, finding peace in the rhythm that you provide one another. He'll reflect your beauty back at you, and you'll drag him to the shores; offer him respite that he didn't realise he needed until you came around.

It's a fantastical way to think about it, whimsical and ridiculous, but it's the only way that any justice is given to it.

Foolish, some may say, to compare a man to such a vast and complex ecosystem, but you think that maybe there are worlds inside of Jungkook that nobody will ever get to know. Some that maybe he isn't even aware of - but you want to be. You want to learn him. What makes him tick, what gets those dimples of his showing.

It's a fantasy. A what-if. A world of possibilities in the vessel of an impossibly handsome man, carved of stone, filled with feathers. Gentle to the touch, hard on your heart.

Funny thing is, Jungkook kind of regards you to be a fantasy, too. Make-believe. A story told to kids about princesses so pretty they're put to sleep at the tops of towers. The unattainable elite, who are somehow a friend to all, and an enemy to just one.

Jungkook knows better than to let himself indulge in the fallacy of you. It's a misconception he's dreamt up; a romanticisation of the reality that he loathes so much.

He isn't really sure why he's letting himself get so caught up with you. Maybe he just thinks he can keep you at arm's length if he keeps you as part of his imagination.

Which is ironic, given the way his arm is tight behind your back as your hips roll on top of his lap. Can't really get much closer than his cock being inside of you.

There's just something about the way you look at him - the little glances beneath your long lashes and the roll of your eyes - that makes him unable to stay away from you. He keeps coming back for more. Again and again.

You're like crack, he thinks. He's never done it, but he's seen enough poor sods trying to ween themselves of it. The withdrawals are akin to the way he feels when you're not around.

He's always been this way; attracted to the things he knows he shouldn't be. You're not the first forbidden fruit he's ever tried, but he's got a taste for them now. He doubts you'll be the last - unless you're the one that finally poisons him.

As he breathes you in, lips on yours, a hand in your hair, the other on your hip, Jungkook knows that you could, in fact, very well be his last - but he doesn't care.

You're still dressed, missing the intimacy of his skin sticking to yours, but neither of you could wait.

The backseats are icy cold, so your tights have just been pulled off, soaked underwear pushed to the side so that his cock - which has barely been set free from the confines of his trousers, still at the top of his thighs - can push up into you as quickly as possible.

The way his hands grip onto your ass makes up for the lack of skin on skin. He's in control, pulling you up and down his shaft like his own personal sex toy.

Maybe that's what he should do, instead - get himself a toy. A fleshlight. Or maybe even one of those fake torsos, the ones with a perfectly hairless cunt and a bolted-on pair of tits, so that he can mimic the way he grips onto your waist as he does it. That'd solve his problems. Stop him from screwing you. Maybe.

He could fuck himself into it; the silicone a pathetic replica of the silky feeling your walls provide him with, and spill his seed into it while he thinks about you. He could even circle his lips around the plump pussy, have his tongue toy with the labia, dipping down into the leaky hole he'd have stretched out with his thick cock. Lick it all up like a good boy, like he did the last time - but you wouldn't be there to swallow it. He'd have to eat his own cum, and that's just never as much fun.

Plus he remembers the ways your legs clamped around his head as you came, so tight he swore his skull could have cracked.

A sex toy would never have him fearing for his life (although he would die from embarrassment if Jimin ever found it), not the way that you do.

In his sheets, in his car, in his life in general; you're a threat to it. To him. And the acknowledgement of this gets his cock all hard and angry - engorged, flushed red at the tip, leaky - when he's alone and thinking about you at night.

Wet dreams had been reserved for his teenage years, but he'd woken up to damp sheets twice since he'd met you.

The first time, about three weeks ago, he was confused; the head of his cock, still a little firm, peeking out the waistband of his Calvin Kleins, a puddle of his semen gathering in his belly button. He'd poked at it a little, his sleepy yet deliriously horny brain not quite awake yet. Tracing his toned chest with his fingers tips, he ghosted his abs as delicately as he wanted to touch your body - and then he realised.

Or should that be remembered.

Remembered the pair of eyes he'd seen as he checked the rearview mirror in his dream. Didn't matter that the car was somehow driving along that little damp area where the sand meets the sea, or that he also seemed to have been wearing inflatable shoes. It was the eyes - sultry and subdued, sunset catching in your irises - that had his cock getting plump in his sleep.

'Show me all of you,' whispered in a hushed tone, and followed with 'I'll show you all of me, too,' was the thing that had his stiff cock oozing onto his abdomen at four in the fucking morning.

The next time, last week, was a little less dignified. He woke up to himself rutting against his mattress, laboured grunts muffled info his pillows, a wet patch growing midway down the bed. There had been a rag left too close to his bed, the smell of gasoline filling his senses, reminding him of you. Hardly his fault. Did also concern him that he was beginning to get conditioned to developing a semi at the mere scent of gasoline.

It was pretty clear to Jungkook by that point, that if he couldn't fuck you, he'd simply die.

Admittedly, he hadn't expected it to happen so soon.

He also, thankfully, hadn't placed bets with Jimin on it, cause he'd have been out of fifty-thousand won if he had. Little fucker never gives Jungkook any benefit of the doubt. Always bets on him caving as quickly as he can. 'No willpower. All cock and balls, no brain.'

You're both Jungkook's proudest conquest and deepest darkest secret.

Can't be letting the boys know about you. Can't be sharing you with them. Can't so much as admit the fact he's been getting laid whenever they rib him for being celibate (which is a reach - he's only been out of action for, like, a month. Two, tops.).

If they could see the grip he had on your hips and the way your hand were locked behind his head, hair draping over his face, lips lost in his, they'd be asking for tips. Probably be wishing they had x-ray vision so they could see beneath the pooled clothes that protected both of your modesties.

But the windows of his car are clouded, the heat of the exchange between the pair of you preventing anyone from intruding. This is your safe place; with him.

He tightens his grip, but pulls away from your lips. You mirror his actions, curious to see why he'd be willing to leave such a warm embrace, your hips stalled by his hands. He's looking at you, blonde hair tangled over his eyes, the metal of his piercing reflecting tiny fragments of light that sneak into his windows. There's a silhouette to his face, beautiful and bold; the kind of art you'd find in the museum on the outskirts of town.

Maybe you'd go there together one day. Laugh at the pompous nature of it all, revel in the fact that you're both too churlish for all that shit. He'll make up stories for the people in the pictures, and you'll play along, narrating the lives of fictional people for funsies.

When you aren't looking, he'll take a picture of you in front of some drab minimalist piece. He won't show you it. Keep it to himself. A reminder of what once was; the beauty of a girl who could capture every ounce of his attention in a room of priceless masterpieces.

That was the thing that always puzzled Jungkook about artists; how did they know when to stop?

If the artist kept trying to blend out their muses' almond eyes, would they surely not become at one with their skin?

How much paint would saturate the canvas?

At which point would the brush stroke turn into nothingness?

He supposed the same could be said for the illicit embrace he was entangled in; how many kisses would it take for a casual fuck to turn into something a little more consequential?

If eyes are windows to the soul, would he be giving his up if he looked at you as he came?

At which point does a thumb in your mouth become a thumb stroking your blushed cheek, and does it really make as much of a difference as it feels like it should?

When you whine into his mouth, displeased at the way he isn't letting you bounce on his cock, he smiles, and knows that it's already crossed that line.

In fact, the lines are so blurred that 'indistinguishable' is the only appropriate way to describe them.

"I really did want to talk tonight," he hums quietly, pushing your hair back. It had been hot when he was covered in it, the scent of gasoline suffocating him, but he wants to look at you now. You hold up your wrist as he piles it all to the back of your head, his hips moving gently as he pulls the tie from your wrist and secures your hair in place.

"We still can," you say a little breathlessly. You're not exhausted, barely used any of your energy on the languid nature of the fuck you're indulging in, but the way he stretches you, cock thick and plump between your tight walls keeps you slightly out of breath.

"Now?"

"As good a time as any."

He smiles, pretty teeth resting on his bottom lip. Head shaking, a little bashful beneath the lunar light that peeks out from beyond the clouds, he lets his eyes rest on yours. They're inky, full of unspoken words, and you want to spend days studying them, just to decipher even a handful of words that make up who Jungkook is.

"Tell me about your life," he hums, head resting back against the headrest. There's an intimacy to this position. The way you're keeping his cock warm is something that's reserved for, well, no one. You've never done this before. Never shared anything other than your body during sex. It all feels foreign - but surprisingly, his stiff cock inside of you doesn't. "Your dream job as a kid. Your nicknames."

You smile, now, and the way your diaphragm tenses has his cock throbbing. "Vet. Popstar. The usual. One that stuck? Lawyer. And I never had a nickname. My family weren't really like that," you say, before rolling your hips, scared that the mundane talk would make him soft again.

Jungkook stills you. Looks at you with an expression you don't really recognise. His eyes are all hard, the dimple above his lips present as if he's thinking. A miracle, really, given most men's inability to produce a single thought during sex.

"You're smart," he assesses. Thinks that girls who dream of becoming lawyers always are.

"Was an overworked teenager. Burnt out. Flunked," you shrug, failing to disclose exactly why you flunked.

He nods, that fierce contemplative gaze still lacing his features. The pads of his fingers are delicate as he pushes your skirt a little further up your waist. His eyes are still on yours as his thumb hooks beneath the lace of the panties you're still wearing. He presses against your clit. It's only a little pressure. Just enough to have you gasping.

"Could always retake your exams now," he says, as if he isn't toying with your pussy like it's his favourite arcade game. Slow and steady. Easy does it. His eyes are wide. Doe-like. Incapable of committing any crimes, it seems. Innocent. "You're smart enough to do it, CC."

Your lips curl to the side slightly, head tilting, ignoring all of what he said except for those two little syllables at the end. "CC?"

"Everyone deserves a nickname."

"And CC?" You laugh, strands of hair falling loose, framing your face. Jungkook was right. You are a work of art.

"CC," he smiles, leaning a little closer to steal a tiny kiss from your lips. "As in, LMCC."

Brows raised, he's got you curious. "LMCC?"

"Little Miss Clutch Control," he grins, so proud of himself that you can't help but smile, too.

The pressure of his thumb on your clit gets firmer, and Jungkook lets his smile drop as your pout rests ajar, a small moan shaking from your very core. There's an intimacy to be found in the way Jungkook can procure such radiant happiness and sinful lust from you within seconds of one another.

He's harvesting for diamonds again. They're not in your eyes tonight. It's too dark for that. But they are in the hushed moans that let him know he's got a hold on you that no one else has. You could talk all the shit you liked about his clutch control, but if you even attempted to argue with him about his clit control, he'd just laugh.

"Thought you wanted to talk?" You say, though it comes out as a gasp. He's got a rhythm, but he isn't moving his hips. He's just feeling your walls tense around him.

"I do," he says with a shit-eating grin. He's too hot, you decide. So hot that you could never be with him, not properly. You'd probably lose your mind fearing he'd cheat. Boys that look like him always do. "Favourite food?"

The casual nature of his tone is a challenge. One that you accept. Even if your thighs are shaking.

"Don't have one."

"Any pets?"

"Family had a dog."

"Name?"

"Bingsu."

Jungkook is so pretty when he laughs. Cheeks all plump, the tip of his nose shiny from the moonlight his car is being bathed in. It's in his eyes, too, twinkling as if it's joining in on the joke - but of course, it is. You are the moon to his tides. Your happiness, for the moments of which you spend entangled in one another, is intertwined.

"Very original," he teases. He knew at least three girls who had called their pet rabbits Bingsu. Some cats, too.

"I was like 10," you defend. "Fuck off."

You say, as if you arent mounted on top of him.

"Favourite position in bed?" He questions, lifting your skirt so that he can see where your pussy meets his cock. He lets a small pool of spit gather in his mouth, before slowly releasing it, aiming for your clit. He spreads it around with his thumb, getting your pussy all nice and wet as he feigns indifference to the way your moans increase.

"How do you go from pets to sex?" You question, finding his method of enquiry maddening.

"Dog," he tilts his head from side to side. "Doggy. Very easily. Answer it."

"Missionary."

It's a lie. You just want to see how he'll react.

"Boring."

"Intimate."

"Old people position."

"Didn't we say we're already married? Perfect for us."

"We're still in the honeymoon period - and don't give me that bollocks about intimacy. I'd say that this is pretty fucking intimate," he protests, thinking that having you on his lap, warming his fat, leaky cock is far more intimate than any rendition of missionary he's ever had.

"And I'd say missionary is only boring if you don't like the person you're fucking," you bite back, just to be difficult. "I could force you to give up all other positions for lent, and I bet you'd still be dying to fuck me every single night, regardless of whether or not it was missionary."

"Yeah, you're right," he admits. Doesn't even find missionary that boring. Quite likes it actually. and he'd happily fuck you for forty days and forty nights. "I prefer morning sex, though."

"Fine," you shrug. "Missionary morning, noon and night."

"Three times a day?"

"Can you handle it?"

"Can you?"

"Only one way to find out."

"You're on," he grins. What he wouldn't give to be buried in your pussy three times a day. "Next question. Political stance?"

"Liberal," you respond instantly. "Left. Whatever you wanna call it. Also, this is terrible dirty talk."

"Good," he nods, as his thumb begins to brush at the hood that protects your sensitive nub, pushing it from side to side. Your toes fucking curl. "I don't fuck conservatives. And also? I can feel you leaking around the base of my shaft. You're still turned on, dirty talk or not."

You ignore his winning remark.

"What if I'd have said I was conservative?"

"You're on my dick in a car down a back alley of Daegu. You're not conservative in any sense of the word."

"But if I had?"

"I'd have probably carried on," he concedes. "Hate fuck."

"You're into that?"

"Not really."

"No?"

"I fuck girls 'cause I like them, CC. I don't really get those straight dudes who always go on about how much they hate women. Surely just fuck dudes instead? Regardless, if I'm fucking someone, it's cause I like 'em."

He says it without a single care in the world. Yet you feel like your whole entire world is imploding, in the best possible way.

"So you like me?" You question, all coy and a little shy. The tip of his cock leaks a little precum into you.

"My dick is in you, no?"

Touché.

And then your morbid curiosity makes an unwelcome appearance.

"When did you last like a girl enough to stick your dick in her?"

Jungkook laughs.

"Last night."

You're about to be offended. He can see it, the way your brows contort, a scowl forming - and then you realise. The smile you give him is sweet, but doesn't last for that long. He'd avoided the question, and you still want the answer. "Before that."

"About two months ago."

"She better than me?"

"I've only fucked you once. Not really a fair comparison."

Disappointing response.

"I'm fucking you right now," you remind him. "The correct answer was to say no."

"Actually," he argues, because of course he does. It's what the pair of you were born to do. "The correct answer is that you're incomparable - but the answer that you want? The one that means anything?" He pauses. Stops toying with your pussy, and pulls you in for a shallow kiss. It's fleeting, but enough. "The way I've been thinking about you doesn't compare. Been going insane thinkin' 'bout you, CC. Wrapped those pretty little legs of yours around my head and have been embedded in my brain ever since. Making me in-fucking-sane."

He's right. It is the answer you wanted.

"So stop asking me questions and fuck me," you laugh. "I've never met a more confusing yet straightforward man."

He ignores your statement, though he doesn't disagree with the sentiment.

"Am I comparable to your last fuck?" He asks, taunting you. He doesn't want to know, not really. But you asked first. He wants to see if there's a reason why; if maybe you're still harbouring some sort of attachment just like you're accusing him of having.

The way your body gets a little tense in his grasp confirms this. He notices. Hard not to when he's trapped inside of you. Thinks it's rich of you to grill him in the way you did, only to clearly be projecting your own feelings onto him.

But there's a look in your eyes that he doesn't like, now. The moon is hiding behind a cloud again, stealing the diamonds from his line of sight.

"I'm sorry," he says. The smile that had been on his face when he'd asked the question is gone, and he's looking at you like he's truly seeing you; the eyebrow hairs that need shaping, the pores that need cleansing and the flyaway hairs that land on the wrong side of your parting.

"It's okay," you say, because you should have expected it. The question was fair game.

Jungkook knocks his head to the side briefly as if to say 'no', but chooses against it. Instead, he pulls you in closer to him and kisses you tenderly, his hips pulsing upwards beneath your weight. His hands are in your hair, tongue in your mouth, and he's reminded again why the answer to his question doesn't matter.

"Let me fuck you how you like it, baby," he mumbles into your plump lips, his tongue flicking against the tip of yours as he speaks.

You question what he means as he grips onto your waist, elevating himself a little but keeping himself snug inside of you. He turns, restricted by the tight space in the back of his car. The movements are a little awkward, but it's endearing how he gets you on your back, sprawled lengthways across the back seat.

Your legs are bent at the knees, a foot resting on the ledge of the window while the other perches on the centre console. You're spread for him, but he can't devour the beauty of you blooming in such a way, thanks to the cramped room. He shuffles his jeans down a little, just beneath his ass, and strokes his cock; pumps it once, twice, as he lines himself up with your entrance.

The position is gonna be hellish for him, his backseat too narrow to really fit the both of you, but he figures if he hooks your foot resting on the window ledge over his shoulder instead, then it should be okay.

And so he does just that. You're surprised you can still bend like that, but you're also pretty sure your bones would turn to jelly if Jungkook asked them to. There's nothing that you wouldn't do to keep him close like this.

"Thought this was boring?" You hum, knowing that it doesn't really compare to standard missionary.

He's stroking the tip of his cock against your folds - and then he sinks back into you, a laboured moan hanging off the cushion of his bottom lip before he presses it into yours. His hips don't really waste much time, fucking into you slow and deep.

"It is," he groans, before hooking your other leg over his shoulder, too. You're a little tighter like this, the grip your pussy has on his cock akin to heaven on earth. "But you're not."

You go to say something, but he can feel you smiling against his lips so he tells you just to kiss him, instead. He rolls his hips into yours, resting himself a little deeper every single time. The tepid air in his car wraps around the pair of you like satin ribbon, tied in a pretty little bow where your bodies meet.

It's a gift, how well you work together. A blessing. A curse, too, but that only concerns Jungkook for now, and honestly, he isn't thinking about it. He's just thinking about the way your hair smells, and how much he wants to suffocate in your scent.

When Jungkook cums, the weight that eases off his shoulders settles in your stomach instead. It traps the movement of the chime that hasn't stopped ringing since he first stepped foot into the gas station that evening. He moans into your lips, tells you how well you take him, how much he likes it, likes you. "Think I'll die if we ever stop hooking up."

He asks if you came, but knows that you didn't. He remembers the way you felt the last time it happened - and as incredible as it had been to have your pussy wrapped around his cock, he knew that it hadn't throbbed in the same way that it had last time.

You shake your head, but you're already moving to sit up. There's something refreshing about your honesty. It's not that he doesn't want to make you cum, it's just that he's getting a bit of post-nut clarity and is highly aware that Namjoon could be around the corner. City isn't that big. Especially not this side of the river.

"Too cold," you smile, to which Jungkook responds with a small, confused hum. "Can't cum when I'm cold. Your car is fucking freezing, Kook."

The way you say his name has him wanting to blast the aircon just so he can get you warm enough to finish all over his tongue - but then you yawn, and he feels bad for keeping you out late after your shift. You're cute when you yawn.

Cute how your hand curls, eyes scrunching up tightly, shoulders hunching and then lowering back down again. He likes your shoulders. They're sloped, and petite, and a far cry from his. So dainty. Everything about you is. The way you look, your pretty lips, the earrings you wear. So pretty, and perfect, and in this moment, his.

Doesn't want the moment to end.

"Come back to mine," he offers, in a bid to elongate that feeling. "Stay the night."

"Again?" You ask, and your tone of surprise has him laughing.

"What? It's not like I'm asking you to marry me, C."

"I'd say no, anyways," you bicker back without even thinking about it.

"Thank God," Jungkook grins, rummaging about to find a packet of tissues he's sure he put in his car at some point.

He'd hidden them up after Jimin had teased him about having car sex like a fucking teenager, but Jungkook had waaaay too much pride in his car to do that.

The tissues are for when he gets greasy food from gas stations. Can't be getting the leather all fucked up, not after he spent so much getting it reupholstered.

"Ah, here," he pulls them from the back of the passenger seat and passes them over to you. Apparently, his mind has changed on the whole 'having too much pride to fuck in his car' thing. "Nah, I just-"

He pauses. Shrugs. Does his trousers back up, and doesn't look at you as you sort out the mess between your legs.

"I liked having you there last night. I'd like to have it again."

He glances over his shoulder, to find you looking at him in the very way he was afraid of. You look fond.

But so does he as he smiles at you.

"Plus, I kinda owe you an orgasm now, and my apartment is way warmer than this tin can."

You tuck the tissues back into the now-empty packet and scrunch your nose up, trying to fight a smile. He doesn't realise, but Jungkook does the same thing back.

Your legs hook over the centre console, and you plonk yourself back down in the passenger seat.

"I do actually wanna sleep tonight," you tell him.

Jungkook smiles, popping open the rear door, making his way back around to the driver's seat. The leather is freezing when his body falls into it, and he starts to realise just how cold you must have been all exposed like that.

He wants to get you home quicker than ever. Shower you in the warmth of his kisses, use his fingers like strike anywhere matches along your skin, igniting fires from the tips of your toes to the very centre of your core.

He'll get you warm.

Get you coming undone. Get you all sleepy and cute. Get you dreaming the sweetest dreams as he holds you close through the night.

"Me too," he says as the engine starts up, his motor purring almost as pleasantly as you do. And perhaps he's just a little cum-drunk, and doesn't realise the weight of his words as he knocks the car into first and heads in the direction of his apartment, humming softly: "Let's get you home."

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When Jungkook wakes up at four in the morning, he's hot. Cheeks a little puffy, hands clammy, tongue dry. Hot.

Your lips are pursed and pouted, firmly shut, body curled up next to his. He wouldn't normally complain, but his arm is trapped beneath your body, and so he's fixed in position next to a girl who burns like the heat of a thousand matches. He'll get scalded, skin tarnished, branded by you, and yet he can't bring himself to disturb you.

He reaches for his phone to check the time, and you hum softly in your sleep. Wonders if you're dreaming; if it's about him. Hopes you are; hopes it is.

His voice is low as he berates himself, whispering to 'get a grip', rubbing his free hand over his face and pushing it back into his hair. It's a little brittle, in need of a deep condition, the bleach damage a small price to pay for the anonymity his hair gave him - until, of course, it became his trademark.

He thinks about cutting it all off sometimes, but he's got a Samson complex. Fears he'll lose his strength without it. Wonders if one day you'll be his Delilah. Kind of already feels like you are.

You would never cut his hair off, though, purely for selfish reasons. Mainly 'cause the way it frames his face makes him look like art; but also cause you like having something to hold onto when things get a little rough (though his ass is also ideal for that).

He likes the way you always play with it. Knows you think it's a little sexy, all wavy (unintentional, just fried) and long. The roots are as dark as his eyes, though.

You romanticise it, in a way. It's like his true self is peeking through, and it makes you think that maybe one day you'll get to know who that is.

Jungkook isn't so sure.

In fact, he knows you won't. Sucks, but such is life.

It's not that he doesn't want you to know when his birthday is, or his favourite spot along the river to watch the world go by, it's just that it's asking for trouble. He gets into enough of that alone.

Still, he likes it when he's not alone. Likes it when you're with him - and so he falls back asleep, the beating of your heart soothing him into his REM cycle like the white noise he normally listens to instead.

It's gone seven by the time he wakes up again. 

He reaches out, strokes the mattress where you'd once been and sighs. It's empty, though a little warm. There's silence in his apartment, and your bra isn't hooked over the end of his bed anymore, so he knows you're gone. Probably just didn't want to wake him.

He's cold, now. Hates the fuckin' cold. Isn't made for the winters. His lack of body fat does a terrible job at keeping him insulated through the cold nights, and heating is a luxury that he can't really afford these days, not with the sheer amount of gas he funnels into that goddamn car of his.

You had been a welcome, warm addition.

He'd teased you about it, told you it was the only reason he'd invited you over when you cursed about how bloody cold it was - but then you reminded him that you couldn't cum cold, and it had him flicking on the electric fan heater quicker than you could click your fingers.

Bleary-eyed from the morning sun, his hair a haphazard mess falling over them, Jungkook makes his way to his bathroom. He trips on his jeans in the process, forgetting the way you'd practically stripped him of his clothes the night before. Insatiable, that's what you are - and he loves it. 

There's no coordination in his body as he walks, and he imagines a shower is the only thing that will really wake his body up - but there's no point. He needs to be out of his apartment within the next ten minutes. He's already running late.

His tardiness is noticed by everyone by the time he gets to the boxing club that morning.

"Here he is," Jimin grins as Jungkook avoids eye contact with every single fucker in the room. He slings his bag down and chucks his jacket on top, mask following. The room is cold, Old Man Kang not one for wasting precious profits on heaters. 

Cold? He'd say. Train harder.

"Sorry I'm late," Jungkook mumbles, head hung a little low, throwing his body down next to Jimin, into the empty seat of a tatty sofa that sits in the corner of the rest area.

Jungkook can feel Namjoon's eyes on him. They're as cold as the ice that's melting on the roads outside, a little bit of spring sunshine thawing what once was frozen. He twists his neck, bones cracking at the top of his spine. Rolls his shoulders back. Postures himself correctly - and only then does Jungkook look at Namjoon.

"Where'd you disappear to last night?" Jungkook taunts him. "One minute you were tailing me, the next?" He clicks his fingers and sticks his bottom lip out, eyes all wide and faux-friendly.

They're the kind of eyes that remind you of the summer before you started secondary school; warm custard on a sponge cake, served up in a yellow cafeteria. A little bit of colour, hundreds and thousands sprinkled on top, but overwhelmingly yellow.

All yellow. 

The school regulation sundress, the frills around the top of your socks. The highlighter stains on your fingers, and the rubber band charity bracelet worn around the wrists of every single boy in your class because it was 'trendy', not because any of them actually understood the concept of charity yet.

Yellow; canary, butter, midsummer Daegu sun. Lemon kombucha, mustard, and honey, too. In some lights, maybe even gold.

It curious how eyes so new, so foreign to you, seem to harbour memories of childhood that you thought had been lost. If not the memories, at least, the feelings; the notion that after the sunshine fades, nothing will ever be the same. Jungkook is the summer before secondary school, the final song of your favourite bands' encore, the subway doors closing at 11:57 pm. He's the end of something good, familiar, safe - but nothing great ever came from safe, now, did it? 

His eyes are nostalgic, served up with a side of the unknown. Promises. That's what they're full of. Or is it potential? You're not sure, but you're actively choosing to be naive to the fact that it all seems too good to be true. 

You don't know him like the boys in Old Man Kang's boxing club do. 

Jungkook's void of colour in there. His eyes are black when they look at Namjoon. There's no honey in them. 

They're bitter like black treacle, his disdain thick as it oozes over last nights competitor. 

"Bastard lights," Namjoon shrugs, his indifference not convincing enough to come off as authentic. "Bad timing. Those cars were all coming from CGV. The last film of the night had just finished. Wasn't expecting the rush."

Jungkook holds back a snort. Typical of Namjoon to go and check the fucking cinema listings, just so that he had something else to blame his poor performance on.

"I mean, I made it through the lights on time," Jungkook smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. Treacle drips from his whole entire being. It's sticky, and it coats every single surface in the room. The floor, the ring, the people. All covered in the heaviness. Everyone can feel it; how uncomfortable the empty silence is.

"Alright, ladies," Seokjin breaks the tension. 

Shoulders broad, shirt discarded by the punching bag he's spent the morning working out his frustrations on, there's a sheen to his skin. It's damp. Salty, presumably, though no one in the room would dare lick his torso to check.

It's as if he's got sodium chloride crystals on his chest, glimmering when the light pours in through a tall window to the rear of the building. 

His muscles are made from clay, carved out so intricately that Jungkook wonders why he bothers training himself so hard when he'll never look like his mentor. Impossible. 

He's glad Seokjin has never stepped foot in the GS25 you earn your keep from. Thinks it will impact the way you look at him. Thinks maybe you'll start picturing Seokjin's face, instead of his own, whenever he takes you from behind in the future.

The thought unsettles him. Has him adjusting his legs, repositioning his cock so no one notices the fact it's a little plump now. 

What? He was thinking about fucking you. Bound to happen. He's only human. 

Male to be specific, with a libido to rival that of a bonobo. 

Sometimes, Jimin likes to joke that Jungkook's genealogy must be closer to them than it is to his own grandfather. Even made him watch a documentary about it once. Only difference between Jungkook and his distant primate relatives is that Jungkook prefers to keep his sex monogamous. 

He's made mistakes before; learnt the hard way that in order to keep things messy in bed, emotions have to run clean. 

"Kook?" Seokjin interrupts his thoughts. He hadn't even realised he'd zoned out, but everyone's looking at him now, thankfully none of them noticing the semi in his pants. "You listening?"

"Huh?" He mumbles. "Sorry, was thinking. What were you saying?"

"We're swapping you out. You've been working well -" Namjoon scoffs in the corner, but Seokjin ignores him "- but I want to see if Park can get things done a little quicker."

Oh, fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck. This will not do.

"No!" Jungkook shouts, before realising how out of pocket his tone was. Cringe. "I mean, uh. I just. I've been making good progress. She's a tough cunt to crack."

"Charming."

"Fuck off, Jimin - see, that's what I mean," Jungkook begins to over-explain his outburst. "She'd call me a cunt right back. She likes my sense of humour. It just takes a while for her to open up. Sending Park in would just put us back at square one all over again."

"Yeah, but what's better?" Namjoon interjects. "Square one, going nought to sixty, or square two, still, only going five miles per hour."

"I'm on, like, square ten, asshole," Jungkook spits, incredibly childishly. If he wanted to, he could get specific. Talk about a different game that requires squares. Bases. Tell them all that he hits home runs, and that he's getting pretty consistent.

But if he tells them that, he'll be stopped from playing the game altogether.

"Sure," Namjoon just smirks. 

Jungkook runs his tongue along his cheek, and looks at Seokjin, nostrils all flared, lips pouty.

"Calm down, Kookie," he says, and even though it's a little patronising, it has the desired effect. Jungkook respects him too much to fight against him. "I'll give you a week - and then you're swapping out with Park, alright? Get me something good. Something we can work with."

"I've got something," Jungkook shrugs. It isn't much but it at least confirms something they've theorised. "Asked her about politics last ni- last time I went in for gas."

"Casual kiosk discussion, seems legit."

"Do you ever shut the fuck up, Namjoon?" Jimin shoots him a glare.

"See, this is what I mean," Jungkook grumbles. "I can ask her shit like this 'cause I've built up a rapport with her. We talk." Fuck a little bit, too, but who's keeping tabs? "She won't be like that with Jimin."

She better not be.

Seokjin nods. He accepts what Jungkook is saying. Knows he's right - but knows that the lack of results is making his leadership look weak to Old Man Kang. "Carry on. What did she tell you?"

"She doesn't subscribe to her father's idea of politics. Didn't name drop him - never does - but she said she's left-wing."

"Performative," Namjoon scoffs, proving that no, he doesn't ever shut the fuck up.

"Or maybe she's the black sheep," Jimin counters. "The name change, the distancing herself from him-"

"Is all standard witness protection shit," Namjoon argues before Jimin can even finish making his point. "Her daddy is keeping her hidden so that he can keep her safe during the election campaign. Remember the amount of assassination threats he got during the last one? "

There's back and forth between them all, assessing how you ended up behind a gas station kiosk without a single link tying you back to your father. Most photographed man in the city, and yet you've been out of the pictures for a good three years, now. 

The four of them never would have known who you are, or how expensive that pretty little head of yours is, had it not been for Old Man Kang and the job he'd given them all a couple months back.

Jungkook didn't exactly lie when he told you he was between jobs. He's just got a little something part time going on, too.

"Well, how about this?" Jungkook interrupts them, cutting their discussion about you short. It was annoying him. None of them know you. Not like he does. He's the only one qualified to have an opinion on the matter. "Keep me on the job. I'll be able to find out far quicker than any of you fuckers."

Seokjin concedes. Accepts that Jungkook is the best bet they've got. Dismisses them all, but keeps an eye on Jungkook as he pulls the neck of his shirt over his head and tosses it down onto his bag. 

His composure is cool as he begins to wrap up his palms, but he's nibbling at his lips. Nose all twitchy like a bunny - and when he gets the bag he'll be working on, instead of testing the weight, he just hangs his head. Rests his forehead against it. Holds it. Taps it gently with his knuckles, before whispering a sharp 'fuck'. 

But then he's bouncing on his feet, squaring up, getting ready, as if he hasn't just very visibly gone through an existential crisis, of sorts.

He would ask Jungkook what's going on, but there'd be no point. He's as good at lying as he is at throwing punches - and he's got the best left hook on the team. Doesn't use it much - but never misses when he does. Lies? Yeah, he uses them a lot more. 

In fact, he's so good at fibbing, that Seokjin half thinks he doesn't even realise he's doing it a lot of the time. He cleans up the ink of his bad choices with white lies, and before he knows it, everything in Jungkook's life is grey. 

"Posture straight," Seokjin calls over to him. "Don't lose your form."

Jungkook grunts a response. Does as he's told. Stays in the boxing club long enough to convince them all that it doesn't feel like he's having a heart attack. Chest all tight and shit. Lungs twisting beneath his ribs.

He grabs his stuff as quickly as he can without looking like a mad man on a dash, and locks himself in his car, staring into the oncoming traffic. Hands on the steering wheel, his chest heaves. Up and down, in and out. Contracting and expanding in all different directions. 

The soiled packet of tissues is still on his backseat, your hairband looped around his gearstick. Your perfume spices the air, sweet vanilla and black cherry. He can only smell your hair when his nose is nestled in it.

Bizarrely, thinking about it doesn't make his heart race like it normally does. It calms it instead. 

Jungkook whines. Stomps his feet a little in his footwell, then rests his forehead on the wheel. 

"I'm so fuckin' screwed."

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minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM BEYONCÉ'S COWBOY CARTER *  assorted lines from the album, some slightly adapted, adjust as necessary

nothing really ends.

for things to stay the same, they have to change again.

hello, my old friend.

you changed your name, but not the ways you play pretend.

do you hear me?

let me make myself clear.

can you hear me, or do you fear me?

can we stand for something?

now is the time to face the wind.

can you stand me?

this isn't the time to pretend.

they used to say i spoke "too country."

they don't know how hard i had to fight for this.

goodbye to what has been.

you were only waiting for this moment to arise.

i had to leave my home at an early age.

i'm not in my bed.

i gotta choose myself.

i might cook, clean, but still won't fold.

i'm still working on my life, you know.

only god knows.

i got art to make.

i got love to create.

they won't dim my light.

i had to sacrifice and leave my fears behind.

you'll remember me, 'cause we got something to prove.

i will lead you down that road if you lose your way.

i'm born to be a protector.

even though i know someday, you're gonna shine on your own.

i gave water to the soil, and now it feeds me.

there you are, shaded underneath it all.

i feel proud of who i am.

i first saw your face in your father's gaze.

how many times have you let yourself get down?

be fond of your flaws.

i just hope you love yourself like that.

i really hope the best for you.

you're my love, my sweetie pie.

don't let go.

lay your cards down.

i'll be damned if i can't slow dance with you.

don't be a bitch.

there's a heatwave coming at us.

i give you kisses in the backseat.

you make me cry, you make me happy.

just toss it.

they couldn't have me and they never will.

sometimes i hold you closer just to know you're real.

sometimes i take a day off just to turn you on.

i could be your bodyguard.

you should let me ride shotgun.

you know how people like to start shit.

someone better hold me back.

i'm warning you, don't come for my man.

don't take the chance just because you think you can.

the games you play are nothing new.

you don't want no heat with me.

i know my man better than he knows himself.

shoot your shot with someone else.

i'm warning you, woman, find your own man.

i have to have this talk with you.

i really tried to stay cool, but your arrogance disturbed my solitude.

look what you made me do.

if you cross me, i'm just like my father.

you say move a mountain and i'll throw on my boots.

how does it feel to be adored?

think about leaving? hell no.

time moves quickly, and so do i.

i don't need anything.

here's to hoping i'll fall fast asleep tonight.

i need to get through this.

i came here for a reason, but i don't know the purpose.

time heals everything.

i'll be your backseat baby.

been a while since i haven't tried to pull away.

come here, you sexy little thing.

baby, you play too much.

i'm looking super hot.

i'm a fucking animal.

every time you know just what to do.

no one ever got me going quite like you.

girl, i wanna take you home.

they won't be around.

i hope that you know that once i loved you.

history can't be erased.

got you up all night and now you don't wanna leave.

how can a true love go so wrong?

put on a show and make it nasty.

let me sink into your arms.

i died and someone brought me back to life.

i plan to steal your heart again.

who am i to judge?

i will carry on.

baby, i've been waiting my whole life for you.

wherever you wanna go, that's fine with me.

all i see is the best of you.

i'm gonna give you the best years of your life.

you owe me a debt.

i hated you once.

tap me on the shoulder when you reload the gun.

i know they're looking for me.

i fall to pieces each time i see you there.

it don't matter what nobody says.

we can take back roads.

just say what you need from the store.

i'm coming home.

take that shit on the chin.

have mercy on me.

this house was built with blood and bones.

i need to make you proud.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Oh My, Good Lord

Day #25 - Gareth | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Gareth | Pairing: Gareth/Di (OC), Background Steddie | Tags: Future Fic, Retired Corroded Coffin, TikTok Trends, Who Can You Traumatize If Not Your Friends?

Gareth watches the analytics tick upwards and he's getting concerned. It was meant to be a joke. Now, it's breaking containment. 

Nobody has ID'd him yet, not as far as he knows, but there are lots of comments that mention that he looks familiar. So, it's coming. His tattoos are on full display, so he might as well be showing the world his fingerprints.

They're gonna figure it out. 

And as soon as that happens, it's gonna get picked up by TMZ and then Eddie's gonna know and never shut the fuck up about it.

He should delete it. 

Quit while he's ahead. 

But, Di likes it. Says he looks good, and that she wants to show off her sexy husband. She's the one that put it to that popular sound clip and uploaded it to an account unattached to either of them. Just for fun, and it was fun, at first. Now it's threatening to really go viral and there'll be no escaping identification if that happens.

So, he's standing by. Hoping it'll have its brief moment in the algorithm and then fizzle out.

It's not like it's that racy. He's showing less than he showed every night for decades onstage. But he still feels exposed. The before, the kind of dorky kid that was in Hellfire Club, that's how he feels inside. Not whoever that slicked-back hair guy is.

Gareth's phone buzzes on his desk, and he picks it up, and it's a text from Eddie:

Got something to tell me, kid?

Gareth isn't sure what he's talking about, but then a photo is attached and yep. There it is. A screenshot of his viral video.

This you?

Well, shit.

He hovers in the text box, and he knows Eddie can see that he's dithering. Before he can make a decision, his phone is ringing. He'd just as well face the music now, there'll be no avoiding it. Not when it comes to Eddie.

He's never gonna live this down. No way in hell.

"Shut up," Gareth says by way of greeting, and Eddie just laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

"Kid," he finally says, "does Di know you did this?"

"Di filmed it and uploaded it. Yeah, she knows. I was an innocent bystander."

Eddie laughs, "Just wait until Goodie finds out."

Gareth grabs a fistful of his own hair and tugs. Goodie won't ever let it go. Gareth may have to move to another continent to escape him. Eddie will make fun, but it won't be anything on what Goodie'll unleash.

"Do not tell him, Eddie. I swear to god. How'd you even find it in the first place?"

"Steve. It showed up on his for you page, and he yelped like he'd been struck by lightning."

"Do I at least look good?" Gareth asks.

"Uh, well, I had to tell Steve to either mute his phone, put on headphones or, you know, just stop watching it on a loop. One or the other. The music was driving me crazy."

Gareth laughs. He's under no illusions that Steve Harrington actually thinks he's attractive, that's absurd, but there was something mesmerizing about it. That seamless quick cut from one version of him to the other. The stats show that people are looping it, for sure. How, even to himself, it was crazy to watch how he changed how he looked. Like he might not have been the same person at all.

He was, though. Yeah, Di made him up to be extra dorky for the before, but she also did some magic on the after, both in real life and with some sort of filter on top. But both worked together to make him look pretty damn different than he does on a daily basis. He falls somewhere in between the two. Not that goofy, but not that attractive, either.

But, he can almost look like that. It's been a funhouse mirror of a weird thing to realize. 

And now Eddie knows. 

Fuck.

He finds Di in the kitchen, folding towels. 

"Eddie knows."

She looks up, meeting his eyes.

"Eddie knows what?" Di asks, folding another towel and putting it on top of the large stack on the kitchen island as she grabs the next one.

"About the tiktok," he says, and she laughs. Fucking cackles, and he smiles, because if she's that delighted there's no way he can't be, too.

"How'd he find it?" she asks.

"Steve," Gareth answers, "because the universe hates me."

"The universe wouldn't have given you that face if it hated you," she says, leaning forward and squeezing both of his cheeks between her fingers. 

He's old. A dad. Of adults. 

He was in a band, and they retired. That's how old he is. That his band stopped because they were so old they didn't want to be on the road anymore. 

Now he's a tiktok thot. 

The front door opens and slams closed, and Gareth looks up, expecting Eddie. It's not Eddie. He wishes it were Eddie.

Goodie's got his phone up, that seven-second clip of music playing on a loop.

Gareth hangs his head, "How'd you find out?"

"The kids called. Wanted to know when Uncle Gare got hot," Goodie says, "I'm traumatized. Is this a midlife crisis?"

"If it is, it's Di's," Gareth says.

"She did this?!" Goodie hollers, "She's the one that unleashed this evil onto the world?"

"Yep. Keep playing that, you're making me money." 

Goodie pauses, then slumps down onto the couch, the music abruptly cutting off, "Well. If it was Di."

"Oh, when she does it, it's fine? But if I'd done it, that'd be gross?"

"Of course. She did it, and that's funny. If you'd did it, it'd just be sad."

Gareth ignores him. Then has a thought.

"So, Uncle Gare is hot, huh?" Gareth asks, unable to resist poking Goodie just one more time.

"Stop. I beg of you. Those are my children and they both need to find Jesus for saying such things."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Notes: Based off this tiktok. It just felt very Gareth-coded to me, and, well, here we are. The fake tiktok video screen in the header is made from a picture from Gwydion's insta where he dressed up like Gareth.

[whysojiminimnida]

Remember When I Said Taehyung Might Not Be As Gay As We Thought?

Don't judge a man by his milfy wardrobe, he looks goooood.

It was... awhile ago. Maybe as far back as 2021 although I do not feel like link-searching it. It's in the archives if I didn't kill it.

Granted, there was a lot going on, then. There's still a lot going on and until now I had no desire to ever - EVER - return to this hellsite. Because Taekookers are fucking weird, yo. And some of y'all got a lil bit up in my shit too as I (fuzzily) recall. Which: it's whatever. I'm extremely unsocial, don't even answer my own DMs. And it's not personal, so I get it. I don't need or want to defend myself, but I will protect people I care about. With my absence, if necessary.

OT: I also totally kicked the big C while I've been out so that was nice. Yoongi the cat is pleased that his noms will continue uninterrupted. I will be in wigs for at least another year. It's all good. Oh LOOK at what we have here. Don't come at me for publishing this, I will explain.

I got it from actual media days ago, okay, and also: there was no expectation of real privacy. Keep reading. Or don't, I'm not telling you what to do.

ANYWAY. I had to come back, mainly to say TAENNIE IS REAL I TOLD Y'ALL IDK WHY NOBODY EVER BELIEVES ME BUT HERE WE ARE. I'm gloating. Honestly, it's so rude, I'd apologize if I cared. But I am rude and snorfling into my cheerios about this. Tae just made me so damn happy, is all.

LET THE MAN BE BI OR HETEROFLEXIBLE OR EVEN STRAIGHT IDC. Jennie clearly makes him happy. Look at his "I'm going to Paris to see my girlfriend" face!

And in that very specific jewelry look, no less. Foundrae. Again. Still. Hm.

Here's what I can tell you based on my limited third hand no sources no receipts this is probably utter bullshit usual disclaimer: It's a soft open, kids. This whole "oopsie we just so happened to get caught taking a lil walk in public with our managers in tow during which date at least one of us signed several autographs, what a surprise" is in fact a soft open for what will likely be a public confirmation PRETTY DAMN SOON. It might happen before I get this thing published, actually, depending on when I get it up. If it's before May 22 at noon my time, no idea. If after, well. Guess we'll see. Jennie's supposed to show up at the screening of HBO's The Idol that day, screening at the Grand Lumiere at 10:30 CEST. One wonders if she will arrive alone, or bring a plus one. It's a big ask, and if he does it they're probably getting married, that's how big a deal it would be. So I'm not holding my breath, but.

This seems like a reasonable prospect for a plus-one viewing. Might not be the only one but... Jennie's IN IT so.

I'M NOT SAYING THIS IS GONNA HAPPEN. I think it would be a fucking POWER move if it did, but I also do not necessarily expect that it will. It COULD. It... MIGHT. It might not. Either way they're a thing, I'm telling you. They are, have been, a thing. For awhile. And it is apparently quite serious - like up to and including talk of engagement serious.

Remember when a bunch of folk thought that one gummy bear dude was going to jail for "hacking" Jennie's phone only there's been no actual movement on any "investigation"? Yeah. Trickle truthing, they call it. Give 'em a little bit, let them deny it and yell and chew on it for awhile before you give 'em a little more. But c'mon, nobody's wearing half the love-themed couple pieces at Foundrae for no damn reason.

Seriously they got the whole collection almost and both have been seen wearing them almost exclusively. For a year.See airport pic above.

Look, I don't have inside info on Taehyung. I do not. I ain't hang with his friends and I don't know him personally. Never met the guy. But I know a PR move when I see one and this is exactly that.

We all know how toxic stan culture can be. Some ToadlicKKers (and a few of us house elves) are certifiably bonkers, if stan twitter is anything to go by. And the guys, the company, they expect a whole meltdown. They know this is not gonna make half their fans happy. I mean the tkkers have a point in that it looks like they wanted to be seen. BECAUSE IT'S A SOFT OPEN. What Taejen/Taennie/Jenhyung and the companies also know is that based on historic shipper behavior, this is gonna come back on Jimin, Jungkook, maybe Rose' and Lisa. And by extension, the other members. Maybe not as much due to their respective distance, but still. I bet by the time I finish this it will have already started.

Oh look there it is. Fuck those bitches, really.

Good LORDT. I'm not adding the audio, if y'all are that hungry for psycho hose beast Jimin hate hie thee to stan twt.

But, totally off-topic kinda...

... wouldn't it be cool if Jennie, who speaks great English, was hanging out with Troye Sivan and was like "so you know my boyfriend tells me that his bffs..." I'M JUST SAYING NETWORKING IS COOL AND FRIENDS OF FRIENDS GET THINGS DONE OKAY.

You know that girl has the scoop. If Tae knows it, she knows it. Oh heeeeyyy Troye.

Also OT: I love that Taekook have been hanging out a little more lately. It's refreshing. I genuinely think having Jennie in his life has been good for Tae in several ways. And you know, I'm kinda surprised Taennie has lasted this long. I didn't honestly think they would. It warms my decrepit, sad old heart a bit. Turns out I have a lot more to say so IDK IDK, if I feel okay about it I might be back. Right now I'm just waiting for the official Taennie nod and the continued total meltdown.

[protectingtulpas]

So I just got sent that pretty iconic "anti-tulpa" document and I think it's pretty damn funny that a lot of those sources, if you actually READ them, are neutral or even supportive lmfao.

Like for this one? This is straight up pro-, and is just explaining that "tulpamancy" isn't the original concept and that it's based on other practices. Congrats, you're making our fucking point for us!

This next one is pretty interesting also. I wanna highlight some stuff from it, from both the op and comments.

Let's talk about my existence in contrast to some of these statements. The first one is "The biggest, most dangerous form of evil in Buddhist thought is "ego" or self-grasping. If ANY mental phenomena increases your self-cherishing attitudes (self importance, grandiosity, jealousness, craving, hatred, self-loathing, self-absorption etc) it's evil. IF a mental phenomena causes greater flexibility, less attachment, more tranquil emotions, less mental chatter/discursive thinking, increased generosity and compassion toward others, higher mental clarity etc.--that's good." And the second one is "If it increases negative emotions, it's not Dharma. If it decreases negative emotions, it's Dharma." So these are great for some people, but that mentality of not allowing "self-cherishing attitudes" can be EXTREMELY HARMFUL FOR SYSTEMS and ANYONE with self worth issues. A lot of this is contradictory for a lot of people. Something can both decrease negative emotions and make you feel connected to yourself. Nobody has the right to make us feel any less like ourselves - normally you can believe whatever you want for yourself, obviously, but pushing it onto other ppls' lives aint cool. The implication that we're straight up DANGEROUS just for existing is insulting to created systems regardless of whether you're using the word tulpa or not.

The reply to that by @/eeveecraft is great, and this part describes how weird that is in the context of headmates' identities here. "Furthermore, really don't like how you downplayed tulpas as property there, buddy. Tulpas are not property, they are people in every sense of the word, and I don't [give a] flying fuck about whatever complications that for your beliefs. My systemmates are people, full stop. I was already able to tell since you refer to your own systemmates as "imaginary friends," which a lot of tulpas aren't okay with being called that because that implies that they're fake. They are NOT lesser because they're not created by ancient monks or whatever.

"Like, seriously: "They would be considered "as real as you and me," with their own likes and dislikes etc," because apparently, modern tulpas don't have likes and dislikes and their hosts just see them as delusions? Say that to my tulpa, Arcanus who adores coffee while the smell makes me nauseous, say that to my systemmates who switch with me and have their own hobbies. Also, tulpas are more than just personalities. They have their own experiences, skills, preferences, dreams, memories, thoughts, a person is more than just their personality, and I thought a "licensed psychotherapist" would know that, especially if they have systemmates of their own." Make sure to read the full comment tho cuz it's a good takedown, it's not just about that it goes thru the entire thing.

SO! If anybody actually wants a well-studied paper outlining everything, check out Tracking the Tulpa: Exploring the "Tibetan" Origins of a Contemporary Paranormal Idea by Natasha L. Mikles and Joseph P. Laycock. It goes into a lot more of an accurate and in-depth history on the subject, and the bibliography ACTUALLY shows where things come from.

All that document showed us was that Buddhists are a wide community with a variety of different people with different skill levels, understandings, and opinions. And that we need to ditch the fantastical, impossible representation of the tulpa in supernatural media because that's ACTIVELY harming people. Which is what we want to show people! So congrats!

[ailendolin]

Live reaction to TRoP 2x04

I am actually so glad Amazon is releasing the episodes weekly now because I love the anticipation beforehand and all the speculation about what happens next. So let's see what episode 4 has in store

Elrond in Mithlond! We're off to a great start here. I've missed my sweet summer child in episode 3

Galadriel, please, you have no right to be even the slightest bit bitchy right now after the Sauron shit you pulled

thank Eru Elrond is having none of it. I love how unapologetically he stands his ground and refuses to engage with her childish passive-aggressiveness

epic camera shots are epic and very LotR-reminiscent

also can I just say that I love how they're including the map to help the viewer get a grasp on where the characters are?

new elves! And they have names! I have a feeling they won't survive this journey but still, hello new elves!

man I just want to give Elrond a hug. He's trying so hard and given everything that's happened it's completely understandable why he won't trust Galadriel and Nenya, and I hate that this sets him up for failure

oooooh is it Tom Bombadil time? I can't believe this show made me feel excited about a character that I couldn't have cared less about when I read the books. I blame Bear McCreary and his beautiful music

lol Tom is like one of those burrowing animals that accidentally throws dirt at someone behind it while digging

Old Man Willow desert equivalent - does Tom Bombadil just naturally attract malevolent trees?

oh I'm so glad Nori and Poppy are okay and landed together wherever they are

those two need to meet Elrond. Given their tendencies to jump off cliffs, I think they'd get along splendidly

omg Nobody! I love you! You are adorable! And your name is Merimac! Gods, I hope they'll keep you around

lol not Nori third-wheeling and being jealous

desert halflings my beloveds! Look at them! They're so different from what we've known and yet them living in holes and the children sitting around listening to stories is so beautifully familiar. I love this so much

oh they're Stoors! And they don't like the Dark Wizard. Got it. I don't like the Dark Wizard either but damn I love watching Ciarán Hinds play him

"You should not be waking." :) I still can't believe how much I love Tom Bombadil already

GOLDBERRY!

that flame trick was neat

omg his little hedgehog teapot! I want one!

oh no this is where we say goodbye to my new elf friends, don't we? The Barrow-downs. I always loved this part in FotR

"Fear not. Dead men are no threat." Famous last words

shit those are the horses from the messenger Gil-galad sent, right?

the Barrow-wights are giving me PotC-vibes and I'm here for it

please let Camnir survive this. Please let Camnir survive this

thank you, Elrond. I knew I could count on you

also yay for him being a bookworm and knowing how to fight the Barrow-wights

and we're back in Pelargir. Have I mentioned that I don't really care about Theo (yet)? I love that Arondir and Isildur are teaming up, though

Estrid, I don't like you. Please go away. Or get trampled by an Ent

or found out by Arondir. That works as well

have I mentioned that I miss Bronwyn?

Arondir, you're a kinder man (elf) than me. I would have let Estrid faceplant right into the dirt

lol Isildur is such an idiot and I love him for it. The way he got sucked into the mud and pulled Arondir along with him was so funny

hello mud worm! I love how many different creatures we're getting in this show

the cave art! Omg it's beautiful and perfect!

"We don't have a home." This is such a sad sentence and reminds me of the dwarves (and especially Bofur) in the Hobbit movies

Galadriel, I'm sorry, but Elrond just told you he is trying his best to save Celebrimbor (and certainly feels overwhelmed by and terrified of such a task) and you're saying all elves carry such burden? Are you serious?

fuck me, not Elrond getting captured in her vision. Is he going to be forced to watch Celebrimbor get tortured / killed?

I will not be okay if / when that happens. Just saying

also I absolutely adore Camnir and you can bet I am already thinking about writing a fic about him and Elrond

not surprised by Estrid's stunt

shoot her, Arondir. Do us all a favour and shoot her

or maybe she actually is stupid enough to get herself trampled by Ents. One can hope

getting smacked is good too

Arondir, please, was it necessary to stop the nice Entwife?

damn those shots of the Ents look pretty

also did anyone ever think we'd get to see an Ent and Entwife together? Because I didn't and my heart is full.

oh that scene between Arondir and Winterbloom was beautiful

the orcs look so good in this series. I'm so glad we went back to prosthetics

I love how calm Elrond is. He is always careful not to rush into anything, always waits and sees and it keeps saving all their asses

NO! Fuck, are you kidding me? Not Camnir. Please, not him

okay, I have forgiven you for everything you've ever done wrong, Galadriel

and I have so many Elrond and Camnir ideas right now, holy shit, that scene was everything

that flaming arrow move was badass

oh this is how she will get captured

yessss hello Adar! I've missed you! Time for Sauron's exes to team up and wreak havoc

his greeting, I can't. Perfect. I love him so much

what a great episode!

[lollytea]

Love the idea that the feral, hormonal Willow post and the dress measurements post take place simultaneously, so you have this teenage girl holding onto her restraint by the skin of her teeth and then suddenly getting a text from her boyfriend with his measurements because??? what???does she do with this??? Is he making a move?? Is something happening here?? It’s probably too forward to send her own, right?? Should she just go for it or gather intel from her friends first?? meanwhile Hunter is just like “I’m gonna make Willow such a pretty dress :D”

YES!! That is exactly what's going on here. I have this vision of how Willow and Hunter's romantic relationship started off. Things moved quite slow, because Hunter got overwhelmed very easily and Willow liked him so much and didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable in what should be a safe space. It's very new and neither of them really know how to approach romance immediately, but one of them desperately wants to practise and one of them needs more time to ease into it.

Willow is always watching Hunter with sharp eyes, intently reading his body language, waiting for any kind of signal that he'd like to do a little more than hold her hand. It's usually Willow that initiates the less nerve wracking stuff like hugs and hand holding and casual affection, but she let Hunter kiss her first. She's very proud of herself for noticing the way he glanced at her mouth or she wouldn't have asked "do you want to kiss me?" and then he wouldn't have done it. Whenever Hunter initiates something, Willow knows he wants this. She knows they're making progress.

Once during a group movie night, he fell asleep resting against her side and she laid in that uncomfortable position all fucking night. He eventually started sleep snuggling her and she she was fucking EXHILERATED. This is what she's been starving for.

A headcanon that I hold so near and dear to my heart is that Willow is secretly batshit insane. Totally bonkers. Off the fucking rails. Yknow just in general. And Hunter definitely makes the crazy flare up. But she's always been good at hiding it so nobody suspects a thing.

Hunter is not very good at articulating how he feels about Willow but he's desperate to express it in any way that he can. So he's always doing nice things for her. And making her laugh. And supporting her in any way that he can. And surprising her with little gifts that he made.

Willow also isn't all that good at articulating how she feels about Hunter. "You're cute" and "You mean a lot to me <3" and other casual flirty lines are used a lot but she's not quite covering the extent of emotions. She feels a lot more intensely than that. She can't really put it all into words. All these feelings give her the unbearable urge to start gnawing on his flesh like a fucking damn griffin drumstick.

The texts make her wanna act up somethin fierce

Hello_willow: what are these?

RULERZREACHF4N: My hip, waist and bust size <3

Willow at her fucking LIMIT:

What does that MEAN?? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN??? Is this flirting? Maybe Hunter's idea of a scandalous text?? She knows from whispers in the hallways that sometimes significant others send pics when they wanna get bold. Like shirtless pics. She has been hoping every damn day that one day her scroll is gonna buzz and its her shy boyfriend, deciding that he likes the way his chest looks today and he wants to show it off to her. But it can never be that simple, can it? NO. Her fucking tailor of a boyfriend it trying to speak to her in tailor language and she can NOT fucking fumble him right now because there's a chance that if she gets this right, she might get to put her hands on the areas that he has given her the measurements of.

Hello_willow: Oh

Is she supposed to compliment him on his beautiful measurements? His broad chest? His slim waist? Should she say that she'd have no problems wrapping her arms around him? That he is the perfect size for squeezing? That she wants to come over and see for herself if he's being honest? Is that what he wants to hear?

RULERZREACHF4N: Is there something you want to tell me? :)

Willow panics, suddenly feeling the pressure to answer quick. What does he want?? WHAT DOES HE WANT????

She quickly decides that she CANNOT be bold here. Because all of the things she wants to say are shockingly indecent.

That's when she realizes. It's Hunter. Hunter, who told her yesterday that he used to be scared of the dark when he was little. Hunter, who might be trying, in his own weird Hunter way, to be a little more vulnerable. Give her more personal details about himself, so she knows that he trusts her and feels safe with her. Like when a beast rolls over on its belly.

A little of Willow's tension melts away. He's very sweet. She likes him an awful lot.

Not knowing how to proceed, Willow awkwardly tries to let him know that she appreciates him telling her things that he thinks are important.

Hello_willow: thank you

Feeling a little unsure, she adds a question mark at the end. And then, upon getting a few seconds of silence on the other end, she panics again and hurriedly types another message. A little more upfront this time.

Hello_willow: I love learning new things about you Hun. You have very elegant measurements <3

Another twenty seconds pass.

RULERZREACHF4N: Thanks. You're sweet <3

HALLELUJAH TO THE TITAN, TO THE SON AND TO THE HOOTY GHOST!!! HE THINKS SHES SWEET!!! SHE IS GONNA GET TO HOLD HIS HIPS TONIGHT!!!!

RULERZREACHF4N: Can I have your Dad's number?

NO!!! HOW THE FUCK DID SHE FUMBLE THIS!!!!

[delopsia]

love all the older rhett this older bob that but do you know what i really really reallyyyy want? older rhett and older bob at the same time

Every gear in my head just came to a screeching halt, Jesus christ.

Oh, to be the controversially younger s/o of Admiral Robert Floyd and Pro Bullrider Rhett Abbott 😔✌ could you IMAGINE?

The whispers that follow as you mosey into the Hard Deck in some cute little outfit that breaks every Navy regulation imaginable, intentionally too short to get under Bobby's skin. Nobody's got the slightest clue who you are, where you came from, or who your heart might belong to, but oh, they're trying to get your attention. For a moment, the bar is loud.

But then you're walking right up to Admiral Floyd and planting yourself in his big, warm lap, and the room deflates. Scandalized whispers and wide eyes eating up the way your fingers comb through the whisps of gray in his hair. Bob knows what they're all thinking, and yet all he cares about is showing you off. This pretty thing snuggled up in his lap, playing with his hair while his big hand rubs up and down your thigh.

Oh, but that's not the end of it because there's an arena a few miles away hosting the PBR that night, and everyone is going. It's the one new, fun event of the year, and it's got the attention of the whole town. Eyes are already on you after your stunt at the bar. Even as you settle down in the bleachers, you can feel those nameless pilots paying attention to your every move.

Then Rhett fucking Abbott, rough and tumble cowboy who's been making headlines for his looks all season, comes bursting out of the chute. Rides some beast of a bull to his eight seconds, disappears for a few rides, then reappears up in the stands. Him and his salt and pepper scruff, kissing up on you and Bobby, big hands squeezing your hip and Bob's lithe waist.

Ugh, it's all over a local news outlet the next morning, and both men are so damn well established that nobody can do a damn thing about it. It would take three to pick up Bob's workload, and not one of those bull riders has been able to match Rhett's latest records. And they know it.

But they're so good with you. Protective but not overly so, the power lies in your hands, and they're more than content to fall into the places you need them to. Whether that be shouldering forward to have a word with someone who's been bugging you at the bar or sitting back and watching over you as you handle it yourself.

Sometimes, they struggle to keep up with your terms and references, but they do try their best to make up for the age gap. It makes for an interesting dynamic; their biggest worry is accidentally alienating you, which ends in countless movie nights so that you can understand each other's jokes. Introducing Rhett to modern applications and begging Bob to quit with the highly technical terms. Neither you nor Rhett understand what he's saying, and if he explains, it only gets worse.

Bob spoils you rotten; he's got more money than he knows what to do with, and you get whatever your pretty little heart wants. You haven't paid for a damn thing in years; you've tried, but even if you slip past the detection of one, you're caught in the crosshairs of the other.

On his long days, he'll send you and Rhett off shopping with his card, and you two always get up to something. It's been three months since Rhett sent that video of your pretty hips rolling against Rhett's new boots, biting at his thigh, whispering something that sounded like a plea for Bob to come home early.

Sometimes, he winds up with lewd photos of you riding Rhett in your new lingerie. Then there was that one time you two got an old Polaroid camera, stuffed the photos into a cute box, and sent it to his work to be delivered to him at his desk. That one ended in you and Rhett both limping, but it was so, so worth it. You're already working on your second batch of photos.

Rhett isn't as financially well-off, can't buy you all the bells and whistles, but he kisses you half to death and whispers the prettiest praises in your ears. He's snuggling you when you're both missing Bobby, and he's leaving you sweet messages while he's on a rodeo circuit, mailing small things that remind him of you and Bob. A hand-carved figurine of three running horses, hand-knit blankets from small-town shops.

Drives you two damn near mad with all those photos of his hard cock straining against his jeans, grunts your names over and over and over as he gets himself off to the sight of you and Bobby on his screen.

He loves making you two ride him. Whispering about how, "Want this ol' cowboy to teach ya how to ride, hm?" and making you work for it until your thighs are shivering. Draws you down to fall into his chest as he fucks up into you, too damn strong for his own good.

If you happen to be gone, then your phone never shuts up. They're a mess. One minute, you're rolling your eyes at a POV video of Rhett chasing Bob around the backyard for stealing his popsicle. The next, you're praying nobody overhears hears the secondary video of Rhett railing Bobby into the mattress, muttering about how "this coulda been you, but you're so far away, babydoll."

Its when you're together all at once, that you fully wear each other out. You would think they'd tire easily, but they could go for hours if they want to.

Sometimes they'll take turns with you, pumping you full of their cum and stepping back to let the other play with you for a while. At some point you have to tap out, batting their fingers away when they try to push it back into your spent pussy. It always ends in a need to change the sheets, because they make such a damn mess.

They're equally willing to let you take full control. Sitting on their knees at the foot of the bed, letting you haul them around by their hair and content to follow your every order. The sight of such powerful men at their most vulnerable is something else entirely.

But the best times are when you wake up snuggled between their big, warm bodies. Two pairs of blue eyes smiling fondly at the sight of you yawning, nuzzling into Rhett's broad chest, pulling Bob's arm tighter around you, asking for a few more minutes.

They both love you to death and will show you off as much as you'll allow of them. If you want to perch yourself on their arms for a big-title navy event or a PBR after-party, then that's what you'll get to do. But if you'd prefer to stay home, then they'll move heaven and earth to make sure they can share that with you, too. Regardless of the differences and the gaps between your ages, you'll be wrapped up in these two old men for a long, long time.

[fuzzyhenry]

Coroner's Secret Life

Working in the morgue has its perks, especially with my unique... hobby. Every corpse that comes through those steel doors is like a potential new outfit to me. I've perfected my technique of preserving and wearing them like a second skin - my own little secret that nobody would ever suspect.

Today's "client" really got my attention.

Sprawled on my metal table was this massive 50-year-old white dude who'd dropped dead from a heart attack at some club. Man, he was a sight - all that soft, pillowy flesh with a layer of silver-streaked hair covering his belly and chest. Those man boobs were like two perfect cushions. But holy fuck, what really made my jaw drop was his package. His dick was a goddamn masterpiece - thick as his wrist with this gorgeous mushroom head. Even in death, it was impressive.

My latex gloves squeaked against the cold steel of my tools as I circled the table, already planning how I'd preserve this particular specimen. My fingers trembled slightly with anticipation as I reached for my first instrument...

I'm a professional first, so I go through the motions of my actual job. The Y-incision is perfect, and I document everything meticulously. Heart shows classic signs of cardiac arrest - no surprises there. But my hands are already itching to get to the real work.

I make my signature incision - one clean line down his spine, like an invisible zipper. My modified tools slide under his skin, separating it from muscle with practiced precision. It's amazing how the whole thing comes off in one beautiful piece, like peeling a ripe fruit.

The skin suit is magnificent - warm and heavy in my hands, still holding its shape perfectly. The chest hair is still soft and natural, and that gorgeous thick dick is still intact, the foreskin preserved just right. The belly fold feels so real between my fingers, and those love handles... damn, they're gonna sit just right on my hips.

The skinsuit slides into my special preservation tub with a soft splash. The fluid - my own formula that took years to perfect - immediately starts working its magic. It'll keep the skin tissue alive at a cellular level, making it perfectly wearable while maintaining that natural warmth and elasticity. I watch as it bobs gently in the solution, those hairy love handles and that impressive package floating like some bizarre aquarium display.

Turning back to the table, I deal with what's left - just muscle, organs, and bones now. Time for the clean-up. I reach for my phone and dial the familiar number.

"Yeah, got another one for you guys," I say casually to the crematory staff. "Standard procedure, cardiac arrest case. I'll have the paperwork ready."

While waiting for them to arrive, I can't help but keep glancing at the tub. In just 24 hours, that beautiful piece will be ready to wear. I can already imagine how it'll feel sliding over my own skin, those soft man boobs settling against my chest, that thick dick hanging heavy between my legs...

I lift the skinsuit from the tub, watching the excess fluid drip off in thick rivulets. The weight of it feels good in my hands - all that preserved flesh, hair, and that magnificent cock swaying as I carry it to my special drying room. I hang it carefully on my modified rack, making sure everything's properly aligned. The warm air circulates around it, drawing out the moisture while keeping the tissue supple.

Once it's perfectly dry, I fold it with practiced care - like packing an expensive suit. Into my discrete medical bag it goes, and I head home, my heart racing with anticipation.

In my bedroom, I spread it out on the bed. Fuck, it looks even better in the soft lighting here. I strip down completely, my own skin tingling with excitement. The skinsuit feels warm and inviting as I begin to step into it, starting with the legs. I guide my feet through, then my calves, thighs... The dead man's flesh envelops me like a lover's embrace. I work my arms into the sleeves, feeling the weight of those man boobs settle against my chest. The belly folds drape over my torso.

The most delicate part is always the face - I ease my head through, adjusting the eye holes, the mouth... Then I feel it - that moment when the skin fully wraps my own body heat. I'm becoming him.

But the skinsuit hangs loose on my frame - like wearing an oversized rubber suit. The belly sags, the man boobs droop unnaturally, and that massive dick flops awkwardly against my thigh. But I've got the solution right here. I reach for my special bottle, the one with the morphing formula I've perfected through years of trial and error.

The liquid burns going down, tasting metallic and sharp. Then it starts - that familiar tingling sensation spreading through every cell of my body. I watch in the mirror as my frame begins to expand, filling out the skinsuit like a balloon being inflated. My chest swells to match those perfect man boobs, my belly grows rounder and softer, pushing out until it fits snugly in the loose folds of skin. My shoulders broaden, arms thicken, and thighs expand until they're properly thick and hairy.

The most intense feeling is when my groin adapts to his massive package. I feel the stretch and pull as my own penis morphs to match his impressive size. The wrist-thick shaft fills out perfectly, that beautiful mushroom head hanging heavy and full between my newly thick thighs.

I run my hands over my new body, feeling how perfectly everything has aligned. The skin no longer feels like a suit - it's become me. Every hair, every fold, every dimple is exactly as it was on my morgue table. I grab my soft belly, feeling it jiggle realistically...

My hand wraps around my new cock, and holy fuck - it's so thick I can barely get my fingers around it. The skin is velvety soft, with those prominent veins running along the shaft just like I remembered from the morgue. I give it a slow stroke, feeling how the foreskin glides perfectly over that massive mushroom head. When I pinch the glans, a shiver runs through my entire body - the sensitivity is incredible, maybe even better than the original owner experienced.

The weight of it in my hand is intoxicating. Each stroke makes my new belly and boobs jiggle slightly. I catch my reflection in the mirror - this 50-year-old bear of a man, all soft curves and silver-streaked hair, working his massive tool. The contrast between who I really am and this borrowed flesh makes everything more intense. My thick fingers explore every inch, squeezing, stroking, teasing...

Pre-cum starts beading at the tip, and I smear it around the swollen head with my thumb. The sensation makes my knees weak, and I have to brace myself against the wall. This new penis is so responsive, so perfectly preserved...

After what feels like an hour of edging this magnificent piece of equipment, it finally happens. The orgasm builds from somewhere deep in my borrowed balls, rising through that wrist-thick shaft like a tsunami. My new body convulses - belly quivering, man boobs shaking, thighs trembling. Holy fuck, it's so different from my original body's orgasms.

The first rope of cum shoots out with such force it hits the mirror across the room. The second and third blasts are just as powerful, and I can feel every pulse through this massive meat. My thick fingers can barely hold on as the shaft throbs and pumps. The sensation is overwhelming - like my consciousness is exploding through every inch of this borrowed flesh.

I'm making sounds I've never made before - deep, guttural grunts that rumble from this bigger chest. My soft belly heaves with each breath, covered in sweat and stray drops of cum. The preserved skin responds exactly like living flesh, flushed and sensitive. That gorgeous mushroom head is still pulsing, drooling the last drops of cum...

My legs are shaking so hard I have to sit down, feeling how my heavy ass spreads on the bed, that spent dick still twitching between my thick thighs...

Created using AI.

[sussyscurryscorpio]

Scorpio Placement Observations

(This picture doesn't belong to me in any way) (I just typed whatever I've observed in people around me, so please take only what resonates) (Also, these may apply to 8th house placements too. Tell me if it does)

SCORPIO MOON:

~Every time you're happy, you just can't help but think, "How long until it all crashes down?" It's like you invent your own problems, when there aren't any, and suffer in it until you think hard about what you're crying about and its bleh-bloh-bluh. Nothing.

~"Fuck, I don't even know whatever the hell I am crying about. It's just I want to cry. I feel so down". Then, you get sad about being sad all the damn time and ugh, it's the feedback loop from hell. (Subtle art of not giving a fuck- Mark Manson)

~Having this placement is like your own mind being your worst enemy. You, often, might find it hard to control the negative self talk inside your head. You might even picture, like the three people who shouldn't even matter saying harsh shit to you. Those are not real people, mate. That is your own mind.

~Even if everything in your life is going just fine, it'll keep reminding you how your past sadness felt like. It'll make you cry even if your life is perfect. (If you can call it that) It'll make you addicted to that dropping of your heart, chaos in your head, swirling tsunami of emotions inside you.

~I don't know why but this, of all planets, is the worst debilitated placement. Like your mind is what stays with you all the damn time. This doesn't make your mind weak, it just pushes it to overthink about even the tiniest of shits.

~I don't know if I am exaggerating at this point, but you might find it hard to shut your thoughts. The more you try to keep everything in your head silent, the more the voices scream.

"Are your okay? Are your fine?" "NO I AM NOT, PLEASE STOP ASKING ME THAT" and still the voices in your head will keep repeating the above question.

~But, I've seen, most people who have this placement can read into what's going on in someone's head. They'll notice the tiniest of the smirks, the discreet glint in someone's eyes, the vibe of the whole damn room, that snarky tone of the nicest girl in class, everything. Even if you're a bad judge of people with this placement, you'll notice the red flags even before they show. The reason you fell for their facade is all because you ignored your gut and intuition. "Everything was pointing out how (someone) didn't have their best interest for me but god, I am such an idiot for not paying attention to it."

~To all Scorpio Moons out there, I am proud of you for making it everyday. This isn't an easy placement to have. Oh no wait, that's a rather humble way to put it. This is a challenging, hard, tough, formidable, rough, and what not placement to live with. You're doing great, bud.🤍

~And people who do astrology, 70% of them are Scorpio Moons. I've seen this here on Tumblr, on Discord. It's crazy. Stereotype of Scorpionic Moon being heavily into occult sciences.

~Aaaand. You're all very secretive. You'll come out of the bathroom crying and nobody would know you cried. It's like only you know what you feel. You know the tsunami inside and everybody else is unaware of that fact.

SCORPIO MERCURY:

~I don't know why but this happens a lot with Mercury in Scorpio that they might be joking and everything and there are people laughing. Then suddenly, they say something, not even offensive, and someone takes such an offence over what they say, they'll spoil the Scorpio Mercury's whole vibe and mood.

~Like, they were just joking one second earlier and suddenly they're literally appalled and trying to contemplate how people can twist their words into something so ugly, which they didn't even meant or thought was possible to be thought of, AT ALL.

~After that, they'll just stop speaking much with anyone and shut up. I mean, they don't open up much. They don't. Even if they do, it's a faux persona. That's not the real them. The real them is the one who tried opening up until shit happened (scenario above) and won't open up to you EVER AGAIN.

That plutonian death and rebirth. Speaking your heart, getting hurt by people's reaction, ghosting everyone.

~Oh and this placement doesn't make you a loner. At all. Scorpio Mercury people have, generally, delivered me the juiciest gossip around, Or they don't know anybody's name except their one friend.

One, extremely social Leo Rising with Scorpio Mercury friend of mine knows every shit going around the school. Who fucked who, where, when and how long. He knows everything. He's the go-to person for supplying gossip (and vape?)

And then my extremely introverted Taurus Rising with Scorpio Mercury bestie, doesn't know anybody's name except me, her boyfriend, and our 2 other friends. I'll tell her how this girl screwed around her bestie's boyfriend and 10 minutes later, I'll show her, "Look, that's the bitch" and she'll be like "What bitch? Who are we talking about?" ... I didn't go to school for a month and asked her for gossip and the only thing she came to know was what I already knew 2 months earlier and I DID TELL HER THEN, but she forgot. Pfft.

~Ah shit, I forgot. You are splendid writers. The way you write those raw emotions, fuck, I'm scarred already. It's like beautiful and heart breaking at the same time.

~And you all cuss a lot. It's fun though, ain't it?

~Also, you're just as secretive, aren't you? Your emotions are just for you and your writings to feel.

SCORPIO VENUS

~I mean. Step on me already, please. How are you so hot? Even if you are super possessive of your lover and possibly want to kill the guy they were laughing with 5 minutes ago, I love you, Scorpio Venus.

~I haven't met many Scorpio Venus people honestly. I wish I had. But so many celebrities have this in their sidereal charts and man, they're goddamm gorgeous. Katy Perry, Billie Eilish, Kendall Jenner, Sarah Hyland, Alexa Demie, Nina Dobrev, Rita Ora, and so many more. Look at them closely, they aren't just gorgeous or beautiful, they have an intense look on them. Masters of Siren eyes. Their faces have a kinda shadowy look, you know. Oh and this is in Sidereal, not tropical. (Legit had to calculate everyone's chart one by one 'cause google got no shit)

~No hate to Tropical, you all. It's just I prefer Sidereal for certain reasons. More so now that I know that Leonardo Dicaprio is a Scorpio Venus in Tropical and no way is that happening. (He's got a fkn Libra Stellium of Sun, Venus, Mars, Mercury and maybe even Moon in Sidereal and I'm drooling)

~So, back to Scorpio Venus. I haven't really noticed Scorpio Venus having commitment issues generally? I mean if you have, that's absolutely fine. It's just what I've noticed in my conversations with a few Scorpio Venuses.

~They define passion. Maybe I'm stereotyping, but come on, Scorpio is ruled by Mars (Or Pluto) There's got to be some passion. Or a lot of passion rather. Mhmm. Don't give me those bedroom eyes, I'll submit to you, Master.

~Jokes aside. I gotta ask you this. Scorpio Venus, are you of the opinion that sex is not just for pleasure, but a divine linkage of two souls? A connection, a bond, a higher form of spiritual act in itself? Sex might not be everything, but it is very important to you if things are to work for you and your partner?

~You're not into casual relationships, fuck and fly BS, least likely to have a threesome. I've seen this with Capricorn Venuses too. They don't like sharing their loved ones at all. (Sextiles, y'know) Super Loyal Lovers- Virgo, Scorpio, Capricorn. (Always)

~Oh and, wear more black. It's your color after all. Black, Purple, these shades bring out your eyes more, or your features are highlighted. And you can totally be seductive without meaning to. You don't even try, it just, its a part of you. (Envious totally)

~And please, you're definitely not extreme, or too much. Maybe for Sagittarius or Libra Venus, idk, you could be, or maybe not, since these signs take it slow and are open to experimenting more, you're absolutely perfect in the way you love. Just, take it easy sometimes too. Intensity all time isn't fun, don't you think?

~OH. Steer clear of obsessive people. Scorpio Venuses attract a crazy lot of lovers often, which are an handful ofc. And also, be conscious of jealous friends. Man, one of my friends has this and her bestie was so insecure and jealous, she went on to screw the Scorpio Venus's ex bf just to prove that she's just as pretty as her. Ugh. Petty.

~Also, please don't give so much of yourself to anyone that there's nothing left for you. You love too much and not everyone deserves it. Hook up culture ain't for you, just don't put your heart in a place where it's left to dust and forgotten.

~You're secretive too, right? Nobody would know you're in love and inside you could be doing backflips and somersaults, totally lovesick.

[ca-suffit]

Santiago has always had fucking fans!!!!!!! Jesus Christ, changing the damn races of the characters were a mistake. Because now we have to deal with fucking idiots who scream racism at everyone for liking the bad guys. If you're not capable of handling these characters and people's love of their bad behavior, find a different damn show. Santiago did the same evil shit in the books. Was it racist then? Legitimate racism in fandom is actually being overlooked by focusing on stupid shit, like people liking an evil vampire. Make it make sense.

(context)

It's intellectually lazy to think like this tbh. This is why there's so much friction in the fandom in the first place. Plus whatever u mean by "legitimate racism." This account is full of talk of all kinds of racist shit happening in the fandom / show. That's all we do. Saying "legitimate racism" is just an excuse to try and deflect from this topic and try to make it sound silly. Ur literally using his same arguments from the 2x7 trial to downplay his character and try to stop conversations that make u uncomfortable.

Santiago's character *was* changed for the show and his antiblackness is worth talking about bcuz a lot of ppl prbly missed it! bcuz a lot of ppl in this fandom are too uncomfortable to talk about it and make excuses like this ask is doing to never do it. "they're vampires, they're monsters, they're villains!" They're fictional characters written to fulfill specific goals in the story. The audience discussing those things is a good thing. It should be done even more when racial changes are made to a story bcuz character choices *will* change based on that and ppl will feel different about it.

The trial in the book does not rely on antiblackness to condemn Claudia and Louis. Santiago and the coven don't further desecrate Claudia's ashes the way Santiago describes to Louis in the show. Claudia is not thrown into a rat box in the book. She doesn't try to join the coven and think she's found a community that accepts her in the books. There's a lot of racial commentary happening in the show between Santiago and Claudia, specifically. But also the whole coven and Armand. The coven and Louis. If u want to add what Ben Daniels said about Santiago thinking Armand and Louis are attractive too then there's even *more* to talk about as to his behavior.

One ask talking about despising Santiago does not mean everyone is expected to. Maybe ur feeling sensitive bcuz u don't like hearing that he's doing racist shit. That's a p common reaction. That's a lot of Lestat fans too. U can still like villainous characters, as u said. It doesn't automatically *make u* like them if u like them. It *is* fiction. I know plenty of black fans who like AMC Santiago. Nobody is dictating *one* perspective here. But telling ppl not to discuss things like this is, like I said before, intellectually lazy and usually pushing a white fandom (a mindset, not a skin color) agenda.