#but then he gets too drunk and forgets it

[sunshineyuyu]

princess treatment (j. yh)

★ summary: you have a crush on jongho, but he’s chatting up someone else. so, you end up getting high and hooking up with yunho instead. ★ pairing: yunho x f!reader ★ genre: college, smut (mdni!) ★ word count: 4.3k ★ tags/warnings: weed & alcohol consumption, yunho calls reader princess, high sex, piv sex (with a condom!), vaginal fingering, spanking, choking, slight dom/sub undertones, ig under-negotiated kink?, big dick!yunho, yunho manhandles reader, yunho is taller than reader, yunho has tattoos lol, dirty talk, intentionally lowercase ★ notes: this is the prequel to the jongho fic chained and the final “part” of this series! yunho from chained was just a lil too hot for me to not write something for him too! let me know if i missed any warnings!! ofc beta’d by the bestie @starhwas-bunny ★ masterlist | read on ao3 | chained (jongho sequel)

you look so hot tonight. you’re wearing your new favorite top—with a deep deep cut that makes your chest the center of attention—and a pair of jeans that you know makes your ass look good.

all of this to hopefully attract the attention of one choi jongho, who you’ve been crushing on for the better half of the semester, since san introduced you to him. he’s built and tan and nice and smart and sexy.

and he’s currently leaning against a wall—cradling a red solo cup and swirling its contents like he’s james fucking bond or something—and chatting up some pretty blonde girl.

you practically feel smoke coming out of your ears as you stare at the two of them—the way jongho leans forward so that he can hear the girl amidst the blaring sounds of somebody come get her, she’s dancing like a stripper. ryujin puts a hand on your shoulder and the warmth of her palm makes you realize how tense you are. she shoves a beer into your hand.

“forget about him, honey,” she says. “he’s not worth it.”

“it’s not like he’s a fuckboy,” you whine, struggling to crack open the can with your recently cut nails. ryujin takes pity on you and opens it for you. you take a deep drink from it before wiping the edge of your mouth with your wrist. “he’s nice. he brought homemade coffee to class for me the other day.”

“mmm,” ryujin says. “i know, honey, but no boy is worth it. c’mon, let’s go play rage cage.”

you let ryujin pull you away to a different room, where the birthday girl yeji is parading around on wooyoung’s shoulders while spraying everyone with bubbly champagne. you don’t even really know yeji—she’s an acquaintance of an acquaintance, but you came because you wanted an excuse to get drunk and look hot and get jongho’s attention, only two of which you’ve managed to succeed in.

you finish the beer at an alarming rate and crush it in your fist.

“i’m gonna go get some air,” you say. “i’m not really feeling rage cage right now.”

“i’ll come with you,” ryujin says.

you venture to a different part of the house, trying to locate the stairs back down to ground level, but instead spotting a balcony. ryujin follows you here, where up close you realize it’s not empty.

the balcony is big—big enough to have several foldable lawn chairs strewn around, all occupied by various zooted-adjacent individuals. you and ryujin find a small opening against the railing, and you push up against it to feel the wind blow against your hair.

“men are shit,” you proclaim, apropos to nothing.

“men are shit,” ryujin agrees.

“you wanna smoke?” this voice is new, and it doesn’t belong to ryujin. it comes from your other side, and you turn slowly to appraise the person it originates from.

he’s holding a blunt out to you, a small thin thing between his thumb and pointer finger.

it’s jeong yunho. 

you don’t really know yunho, but you know him enough. he’s a friend of seonghwa’s, which means you’ve seen him at enough parties—been shoved next to him during rage cage, had him hold your hair back while you took a bong hit. he’s tall, with soft black hair, and has a tattoo of a dragon curled around his right forearm. there’s a perpetual lazy look to him—a smirk always playing at his lips.

he’s attractive, and he’s offering you a smoke from his blunt. you don’t think twice before you’re stepping closer, pressing your lips against the end of the blunt and inhaling. a low tsk comes from ryujin, but you focus on letting the sour smoke fill your lungs, all while you maintain eye contact with yunho.

“ryujin,” you say, coughing a little since it’s been a while since you’ve taken a direct hit. “can you get me some water?”

ryujin gives another tsk, but then you shoot her a look that she understands in an instance, and she slips away to “get you some water.”

you turn back to yunho.

“you looked like you needed it,” yunho says, taking a pull from the blunt and then blowing the smoke back out. 

you hum lightly, crossing your arms from both the night chill and because you know it makes your tits look better.

“you’re right.”

yunho holds the blunt back out to you, right in front of your mouth. you take another hit. this time you close your eyes and you breathe it back out, letting your head fall back and your hair hang loose.

“it’s nice,” you say. “thank you.”

“anytime,” yunho says.

you continue the back and forth of the blunt a few times, until you’re starting to really feel it, which is good because the blunt is practically finished, yunho barely pinching onto it after your puff.

“last one,” yunho says, a little breathy, and eyes more hooded than usual. 

on this last one, you meet yunho’s half-gaze and blow the smoke directly into his face. he’s closer than you really remember him being, but you don’t mind. he’s big and he blocks the wind. he flicks the stub of the blunt onto the ground, grinding it with the toe of his shoe. he raises his head back up to you.

“that was hot,” he says.

“i’ve always wanted to have high sex,” you say.

“i can make that happen,” he says.

he leads you to the stairs, down them, and out the front door with a surprising amount of clarity. meanwhile, you’re letting the sound of whatever chainsmokers song is playing drag you back to your high school days. an uber appears out of seemingly mid-air, and you’re suddenly in the backseat of a sedan. yunho’s shoving the armrest into the backseat and pulling you into him.

the ride is smooth, and you take it in turns to focus on different things. first, the dulcet sounds of a jazzy trumpet, fragmented and dusty because of the car’s worn speakers. second, the rushing of lights in the windows, leaving behind trails of white, yellow, a smear of blue.

finally, yunho’s hand on your waist, his thumb rubbing soft circles in that sliver of skin between your top and your jeans. it’s nice, makes you feel warm. you press deeper into his chest, your hand pressed into the cotton of his shirt.

he leads you up to his apartment and throws his keys into a ceramic bowl near the front door. 

“do you want water?” he asks, heading towards the kitchen like you hadn’t propositioned him fifteen minutes ago after sharing a blunt together.

“yeah,” you admit, when the full feeling of cotton mouth hits you.

after several gulps of the most delicious filtered water you’ve ever had, yunho’s crowding you into the countertop. he towers over you, but that works because you like feeling small, overpowered.

“you sure about this?” he asks, and if you weren’t high you would’ve said something about appreciating the ask for consent. instead, you lock your arms around his neck, pulling him down to your height and pressing your lips against his.

the kiss is immediately intense, his tongue roving against yours, while his hands—jesus, they’re massive—press into your sides, palms hot and fingers digging.

“yes,” you say.

he picks you up effortlessly, and you manage to wrap your legs around his torso as he carries you into his room. he sets—no, throws—you down onto the mattress. you bounce a little and fall backwards onto the pillows. you’re getting ready to bite out a retort at being tossed aside so roughly when you see his face: calm, emotionless, but a distinct darkness in his eyes.

“fuck.” you mean it as a breath, but it comes out like a moan. 

yunho pounces.

he kisses you briefly, before descending to your neck, your collarbone. he’s pushing your top off your shoulder, mouthing at the flesh at the top of your breast.

“take it— take it off,” you say.

yunho obliges, sitting back to push your top up past your chest and over your head. he lingers there for a little longer, eyes running over your tits and your nipples hardening under his heavy gaze.

“hot,” he says. “you’re so fucking hot.”

“touch me,” you say.

he obliges, palming your tits and pinching your nipples. rolling them between his fingers and revelling at the way you keen under his touch. 

“sensitive?” he says, all breathy while watching you.

“y- yes,” you say. “the- the weed—”

“mmm, yeah, i know what you mean.”

you reach down to the button of your jeans, but yunho catches your hands and lifts them above your head. he presses into it, hovering over you.

“i’ll take care of you, princess,” he says. “be patient.”

this pulls a squeak out of you. the assertive tone, the pet name, combined with the way that it only takes one of his hands to lock your wrists in place—it’s new to you, but you’re suddenly so fucking desperate to get out of your pants.

the unoccupied hand goes to your jeans, and you close your eyes, as yunho deftly unbuttons it, but drags down the zipper slowly to reveal your mildly scandalous underwear: red and lacy with a little bow.

yunho whistles. “y/n. that’s kinda sexy.”

he releases your wrists to use both hands to slide your legs out of your jeans. he goes slow, trailing behind his hands with his lips, which leave a scorching trail of lazy kisses. he’s looking at you as he goes, his eyes never wavering. you almost blush from the heat of his glare.

“you shy?” yunho teases, reaching up to palm one of your tits. 

“no,” you say. “just- just ready.”

“mmm,” yunho says. “i told you, princess. be patient.”

in an instant, you’re suddenly on your stomach, bouncing again. your waist feels a little tender from where he gripped you hard to turn you over, and your head feels a little woozy from the sudden movement, but then you feel yunho tapping on the outside of your thigh.

“up.” one word, one syllable, but coated in dominance, and you’re on your knees in an instant, ass up.

“fuck, that’s a nice view,” you hear yunho say, and you feel his hands splay out on your cheeks. he squeezes a little and chuckles.

slap! 

you fall onto the mattress, arms slow to catch yourself. did he—? did he just smack your ass? the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done in bed was some light hair pulling, but you’re finding that you don’t mind the buzzing you feel in your ass right now.

in fact—

“oh.” it comes out like a whine, and yunho hisses in satisfaction.

“you like that, huh, princess?” yunho says, his voice low.

“mm.” you can’t manage words.

“good,” he says, but even then you can’t anticipate the next slap. it’s harsher this time, and you jerk from the touch. “gonna make ur ass red to match those panties.”

it’s filthy. the way he’s talking. you’ve only heard talk like this in porn, and you’d always thought it was overly scripted. but yunho’s just talking, eliciting tiny squeaks and squeals of surprise from you that you also have only heard in porn and thought was fake.

“p- please,” you say, lower lip trembling a little. you finally chance a look back at yunho, and you find him still completely clothed, kneeling on the bed behind you with his hands on your hips.

“please what?” yunho says, smirking.

“touch me,” you gulp.

“where?”

“here.” before you can overthink it you’re taking his much bigger hand and moving it to your core, to where your underwear is already soaked. 

“okay, princess,” yunho says. “since you asked nicely.”

he starts rubbing your clit over the fabric of your underwear, a feathery touch that still makes you shudder. his other hand slides up your back and settles between your shoulder blades, pressing you down into the mattress.

“stay still, okay?”

you whimper in response, because soon he’s pushing aside the crotch of your panties, teasing the pad of his finger at your dripping entrance.

and then he’s pushing not one, but two long fingers into you. the first thrust is slow, and you can feel your walls pulsing around the digits. the second, third, fourth thrusts are hard and fast, and his hand on your back is bruising.

“fuck,” yunho hisses. “so wet and tight, princess.”

“hnng,” is your reply, because yunho is hitting that spot in the back, and your thighs are quivering.

“turn around,” yunho commands. “i want to see you when you cum.”

you scramble to follow his direction, flipping onto your back and pulling your knees closer into you. yunho shoves fingers into your mouth before you have a chance to say anything, and you suck on instinct, lapping at his fingers and tasting yourself on them.

“fuck,” yunho says, and then he withdraws the fingers and pushes them back into your cunt. you stare down at his hand, at his arm—the one with the dragon tattoo wrapped around. at how the scales of the dragon dance with the veins of his forearm as he pistons his fingers into you.

you’re a babbling mess of whines and coos and squeals, and suddenly yunho’s other hand flies up to your throat.

“this okay?” yunho asks quietly. his voice is low, like he’s trying to be sultry, but you can tell he’s watching carefully to see your response.

this is new. you’ve never done this before. you’ve seen it, heard about it. 

you like it.

you nod, and yunho smirks.

his grip is loose, but this new pressure on your throat makes you a little dizzy, a little lightheaded, and makes the fluttering in your stomach speed up. both your hands come up to grip his arm, to feel the muscle beneath your fingers.

“i’m- i’m close,” you croak.

“good.” and yunho picks up the pace, fucking his fingers into you until you feel that crest of nerve endings exploding. your back arches, your head falls back, your eyes close—the feeling ten times more intense than usual because of the weed in your system.

you collapse against the bed, breathing heavily and clenching around his fingers.

“fuck,” yunho whispers. “that was hot.”

he’s perched over you now, a hand on your cheek brushing your sweaty locks out of your face. he kisses your neck, softly.

“i- i want—” you have to pause to catch your breath.

“yeah, princess?” he grins at you.

“this,” you say, your hand cupping the very apparent tent in his pants. this takes yunho by surprise. he jerks, but your hand remains. you experiment with palming him a little, feeling how firm his cock is. how big it feels even under the thick strain of his pants.

“yeah?” he says.

“yes,” you say. “please.”

“ok, princess.”

he reaches behind his head to pull his shirt off by the collar. you blanch at the sight of his torso. lean, lithe muscle. another tattoo along the top of his ribcage that you’ve never seen before. black calligraphy strokes that spell out something in what you think is japanese.

“what does it say?” you say, before you can stop yourself. you run your fingers along the words, touch soft.

“nana korobi, ya oki,” he says, equally softly. “it means ‘fall down seven times, get up eight.’”

“it’s beautiful,” you say.

“not as beautiful as you,” yunho says, and he tugs your underwear down from your hips and off your legs. you suddenly remember exactly what you’d asked for.

“so. fucking. beautiful,” he continues, undoing his belt and throwing it aside. he unbuttons his jeans and pulls them halfway down his thighs. there’s a small wet patch on his briefs, but those are soon pulled down too to reveal—

he’s big. long but not too thick. the head of his cock flushed red and leaking pre-cum.

you feel your mouth inexplicably fill with saliva.

“you’re- you’re—”

“you can do it, princess,” he says, kicking off his briefs and jeans the rest of the way. “you can take it.”

you nod obediently.

he reaches over you for his bedside drawer, returning with a silver foil condom packet and a little plastic bottle of lube. he tears the condom open with his teeth, spitting out the corner and then rolling the thing down his length. you lay back, eyes up to the ceiling. you hear the distinct pop of the lube cap, hear a liquid sort of noise, and then you feel his fingers again. cold and a little slimy, probing at your entrance and briefly nudging at your sensitive clit.

“you ready?” he says, lining himself up.

“mm.”

he pushes in slowly, and it takes all of your willpower not to clench instinctively. he groans while he slides into you, and the pace allows you to feel every inch of him. the stretch is difficult at first, but the further in he gets, the less control he has and soon, he bottoms out.

“you can- you can move,” you say.

“don’t have to tell me twice, princess.”

yunho’s hands find your waist, grip it hard, and then he pulls back and thrusts in again, but still slow. you can feel his eyes on you, making sure his size doesn’t overwhelm you. as he builds up his pace, his hips snap against yours, filling the room with positively lewd sounds that combine with his deep breathing and grunts and your whimpers and whines.

he fucks you into the mattress, stretching you so deliciously.

you find one of his hands and lead it up to your throat. yunho’s eyes widen, but he wraps those long, perfect fingers around your neck, grip tighter this time.

“fuck, you’re so pretty, princess,” yunho says. “taking my cock like that. such a good fucking girl—fuck!”

you’re overstimulated, but in the best way. lightheaded from the choking, sensitive everywhere from the weed, and so turned on from yunho’s praise. you close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the sensation of being so thoroughly fucked.

as yunho pounds into you, he starts cooing and moaning about how good you look, how good you sound, how good you feel.

“yeah? you like that, princess? yeah—let me hear you. tell me how good i’m fucking you. fuck—your pussy is perfect. like you were fucking made for me. such a perfect princess.”

you can’t tell if you’re close to another orgasm, or if this is just all one long extended orgasm. all you know is that your body is buzzing with pleasure, and you feel really fucking good.

eventually, yunho’s thrusts grow faster and more erratic. he gives one final push and stays buried in you, chest rising and falling.

he pulls out slowly, checking to make sure the condom worked.

“fuck, that was good,” he says, breathless.

“yeah,” you agree, boneless.

yunho swings his legs over the side of the bed, taking off the condom and tying it up before throwing it into a trash can. you’re a bit miffed that he is already fully operational, while you feel like you had all of your inner organs rearranged.

“give me a sec, princess,” he says, as he tugs on a pair of sweatpants. “i’ll get you some water and get you cleaned up. just relax.”

your head still feels a little woozy, but you slowly come back to your senses as you hear yunho bustle around outside. finally, he comes back into the room guzzling a chilled bottle of water. he recaps it and hands it to you. you drink deeply as you feel yunho wipe at your thighs with something warm and wet. the cool water reinvigorates your throat after having yunho’s hand pressed against it. 

“you good?” he says. “i wasn’t too hard or anything?”

“no,” you say. “no, it was good. i liked it.”

“good girl,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed and patting your head. it’s mildly patronizing, and but you’re to tired to retort back. 

he shifts deeper onto the bed to lean back against the headboard, running his fingers along your spine. it’s relaxing and—together with the water—helps you ground yourself as you feel the last remnants of weed and arousal fog clear from your mind.

“you like jongho, right?” he asks, apropos to nothing.

you choke. you spend the next few seconds spluttering and coughing while yunho rubs your back soothingly.

“i don’t- why are you—?”

“that’s why you were all sad at first, right?” yunho says. “on the balcony?”

you stare at him, finally able to breathe properly.

“yeah,” you say quietly. “but it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t like me.”

yunho hums. “i don’t know about that—” and he pinches your back when you open your mouth to protest “—but i don’t mind being your fuck buddy while you get over him.”

you purse your lips. truth be told it was good sex, but your… thing for jongho isn’t something that you can just get over with a couple good fucks and some weed. you don’t know how to tell yunho—someone you’ve only really ever been around either drunk or high or both—about pulling all-nighters with jongho to finish your homework together, sleepy and giggly and delirious; or how he knows your coffee order without ever having asked; or the way his eyes crinkle when you show him a funny meme.

so, you settle with a small smile and a peck to yunho’s jaw.

“i’ll consider it,” you say, and you get up to start redressing. you’re sobering up properly now, and the flimsy top you’d been wearing before feels a little scandalous for your current mental state. after hesitating briefly, you grab yunho’s discarded top and put it on.

“well shit, when you do stuff like that,” yunho says, running his eyes over how his shirt dwarfs you.

“i’m- i’m cold,” you mutter.

yunho just laughs, ruffling his hair.

“hey—you hungry?”

he takes you to the 24/7 burger joint just outside his apartment, harsh fluorescent lights and greasy air doing their best to sober you up even more. he orders and pays for you, while you slide into a corner booth to avoid anyone seeing how utterly fucked out you look: hair in a messy bun to hide the knots, body swimming in yunho’s shirt, mascara smeared under your eyes, and hand constantly on your neck to cover up the massive hickey you discovered while peeing—when had yunho even given it to you?

yunho scoots into the seat opposite you with a handful of napkins and a little paper cup of spicy ketchup. after you receive your tray of food, you and yunho spend the next fifteen minutes talking about the basics when you both realize that you don’t know much about each other.

it’s easy to talk to yunho, whose light chuckles and lazy smiles are comforting. while you might not take him up on the fuck buddy proposal, you just might keep him around as a friend.

you feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket, and you reach for it to see a text from san, asking if you’re okay.

to: san

[1:40 AM] yeah i’m good

[1:40 AM] actually can u come pick me up. i’m at the burger place on 8th.

from: san

[1:42 AM] yeah omw

you slip the phone back into your jeans while you sip on your soda.

“san’s coming to get me,” you tell yunho.

“oh, cool,” yunho says. “yeah i was gonna offer to take you home or something—it’s so late.”

you hum, warming in appreciation for yunho’s intent. he really isn’t a bad guy—not that you’d thought that before. he’s always been a neutral acquaintance, but you’re really starting to enjoy his company now.

“thanks,” you say. “for the food, and—the other stuff.” 

yunho laughs.

“you’re cute,” he says, tapping the tip of your nose with a greasy finger. you dab at it with a crinkly brown napkin.

ten minutes later, your phone vibrates again to indicate that san is outside in a silver uber. you thank yunho again, and even give him a quick peck on the corner of his lips, your face flaming as you turn away from him to leave the diner.

when you throw open the door of the car, you find not san, but—

choi jongho, stuffed into the backseat with a slight flush on his cheeks and a loose grin. you stare at him, and he stares back. the only empty seat is in the middle.

“scoot,” you say.

“i’m too big for the middle seat,” he says, but he doesn’t make any moves to exit the vehicle to give you the space to slide into the car. you nudge him. “just climb over me.”

a low string of curses leave your mouth as you reluctantly clamber around his big frame and into the middle seat, where you finally see san sitting on the other side. you’re so preoccupied with greeting him and thanking him for coming to get you that you don’t notice jongho’s eyes narrowing at the shirt you’re wearing—yunho’s.

“you coming to our place or going home?” san asks.

the words your place are on the tip of your tongue when you look back at jongho, noticing now a small red bruise blossoming just under his jaw. this causes you to snap a hand to your own hickey, which you hope is hidden by the shadows.

“home,” you say quietly. “ryujin’s probably waiting for me.”

the uber starts up again, and you lean your head back onto the headrest, determinedly avoiding jongho’s gaze. you know that you just went off to hook-up with someone random, but it doesn’t sting any less that apparently jongho was doing exactly the same thing.

at that moment, your phone lights up with a new text.

from: unknown number

[1:59 am] hmu whenever, princess ;)

continued in chained (c. jh)!

[abouttocommitarson]

The villan heard the laughter before it abruptly stopped. She glanced up and saw... hero? The villan had never thought she would see hero again. Ok okokokokokokkokokok try not to panic, just act normal the villan told herself. The hero while this was happening had stopped dead in her track and was staring at the villan mouth agape. The rest of the gaggle of 20-somethings around her were glancing at the hero trying to figure out who she was staring at. villan told herself ok um just ignore hero surely she'll think she's seeing things or something, I look a lot different since we last fought. Besides I'm supposed to be dead. One of heros friends shook a hand in front of her face,

"Hello? Hero? Anyone in there?" He said knocking on heros forehead

"Huh? Oh yeah I'm fine," hero said with a nervous laugh, and tried to wrench their gaze away from the woman at the bar she seemed so familiar but hero couldn't place her face "just, y'know"

"Because you're not telling me I really don't know but ok" responded heros friendwith a smirk.

Throughout the night hero kept glancing at villan and her friends kept nudging her and whispering at her villan had noticed. Her plan was to get drunk so she would forget this had happened and then call a cab to get home. She had avoided this for so long! She had faked her own death-quite convincingly she thought, moved to a different city, made a new identity, and cut contact with anyone from her past life and STILL the hero had found her, the villan scolded herself. What comes next? Police banging on her door? Going to court? Prison? She supposed she signed up for this when she chose the life of crime but she had grown since then! She'd changed! She was no longer a bloodthirsty criminal trying to destroy a city she had a nice apartment a working car and a cat life was going well. Well, she laughed to herself good things never last forever.

"What'cha laughing about?" Came a voice from next to her, villan glanced up and had it not been for her already very pale complexion she would have gone white as a ghost. Hero had sat down next to her and was trying to make small talk.

"So uh how's your week been? Whats your name?" Hero was shitty at small talk and she knew it but was she this bad? The woman she sat next to was only a few years older then her at most and was staring at her like she just said that she liked homework, a mix of horror, confusion and fear. "Aaaaaaare you gonna respond or just stare at me like I'm a zoo exhibit?"

"Um sorry I just... do we know eachother?" Villan blurted, she didn't mean to, but she desperately needed to know if hero could recognise her. It sounded quite rude after she said it, but too late now she guessed.

I've lost motivation for this a bit, might come back later. If you guys like it. Please be nice I haven't written any storys since last February. Feedback and ideas welcome! Thanks

Edit: for those who were asking to be tagged in any and all stroys based of this prompt: @axxolotlqueen @lillysys @randomness20117

You, the villain, faked your death and started over years ago. But you never expected the hero to stumble into your new favorite bar, laughing with their friends.

[nachrosas]

SLIDE TO LOVE | s.reid x reader

summary: you try to teach spencer how to roller-skate. pairing: spencer reid x reader content warnings: just spencer being a little drunk in this one! word count: 936 a/n: just a little fun day at park with spencer :)

It was a beautiful day. The park was especially alive there. Children's laughter echoed across the green fields, interspersed with the rhythmic sound of roller skates gliding across the asphalt. You were sitting beside Spencer on a bench shaded by a tree, watching the surrounding movement.

“Look at them!” you commented, pointing to a group of young people doing tricks on a small ramp. “I think they're competing to see who can get hurt first.”

Spencer adjusted his glasses, his curious gaze following their movements. “In fact, studies show that high-risk sports stimulate the release of adrenaline and dopamine, which can be considered a motivating factor. What's more, the likelihood of musculoskeletal injuries in sports like this is…”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't contain your smile. “Right. Dr. Reid, what about you? Have you ever tried skating?”

He blinked, clearly taken aback by the question. “Me? No, never. It seems… too unstable for me.”

“It's fun!” you insisted a little, standing up and tugging on his hand. “Come on, Spencer. It's time to add that to your list of extraordinary skills.”

He hesitated, but your piercing gaze made him stand up slowly, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “If I fall and hurt myself, it'll be your fault.”

“No problem! I'm a great instructor!” you assured him, guiding him to the small hut that rented out roller skates.

Spencer looked at the skates on his feet as if they were bombs about to explode. “Did you know that skating is responsible for approximately 100,000 injuries a year in the United States? About 33% of them involve the wrists, because when people fall, they choose their hands as a method of protection.”

You laughed, crossing your arms. “Okay, Dr. Statistics, but you're forgetting the most important fact: falling is part of the fun.” You took a step forward, grabbing his hands. “And besides, I'm here to make sure you don't become one of those 33%.”

He frowned, but you saw the corner of his lips twitch, almost forming a smile. “I can't be good at everything, you know?” he grumbled.

“Exactly! And that's why it's going to be so much fun to watch you stumble a little.” You winked at him and gently pulled him away from the grass, towards the asphalt.

As soon as the wheel of Spencer's roller skates touched the smooth surface, he staggered, his arms moving like uncontrolled propellers. You held on tightly to his hands, biting your lip to keep from laughing out loud. “Okay, okay, don't worry! Small steps, right? Let's try again.”

He nodded, his eyes fixed on his own feet, his expression determined. Every step was clumsy, and he stumbled a few times, but you never let go of his hands.

“You're thinking too much,” you commented, as you helped him regain his balance for the third time. “You have to relax, let the movement flow. It's like walking in sneakers! Only instead of sneakers, it's wheels.”

He looked up at you, his brown eyes shining with something other than frustration. “Relaxing? I'm not exactly good at it.”

You laughed, tilting your head. “Really? You don't even think so. All that genius and you can't take two steps without pulling me along?”

Spencer stopped, swaying slightly on his skates. “You know I'd do anything to see you smile like that, right?”

The world seemed to slow down. He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, but the sincerity in his voice made your heart soar. A shy smile took over his face.

“Well, in that case,” you replied, squeezing their hands tighter. “You'd better keep practicing. Because I'm still not satisfied.”

He smiled back, genuine and full of renewed confidence, and took another step. Of course, he stumbled again, but this time your laughter echoed together, filling the park with a light and contagious joy.

With you still holding his hands, Spencer was able to glide with more confidence — or at least what felt like confidence. His movements were still clumsy as if he was learning to walk again, and that's when you realized that he was really trying. For you.

For a brief moment, he took three consecutive steps without stumbling, and you both celebrated as if he had just won a medal. But the euphoria was short-lived. With his next move, Spencer lost his balance, tripping and pulling you along.

You both fell to the ground awkwardly, but the impact was cushioned by the laughter that escaped your lips. You looked at him, who was now lying on his back, trying to catch his breath as he laughed more freely than you had ever seen before.

“I told you,” he said between laughs. “that it wouldn't end well.”

“Finish well?” you repeated, sitting down and holding out your hand to help him up. “Spencer, that was perfect!”

He accepted your help, taking a seat next to you, still with his skates on his feet. “If that's your definition of perfect, maybe I need to revise my standards.”

You gave him a gentle push on the shoulder, smiling. “You know, I think you're starting to get the spirit of the thing.”

He tilted his head, studying you with that look that seemed to unlock secrets. “Maybe it's because I have the best teacher in the world.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile remained. “And you'll need more lessons! Next time, no falls, okay?”

“Next time…” he repeated, with a slight curve to his lips, as if the mere act of saying those words was a promise.

[chaifootsteps]

The show has accidentally paralleled Stolas and Blitzo as fathers but not in the way it thinks

Stolas lowkey seems like he wanted to escape from fatherhood (saying he only stayed with Stella so 'that girl could have a normal life', openly did not want a daughter and had an heir from obligation) and had a daughter who he looked after from birth and got to her teenage years only for him to continually neglect her after blowing up her life with his cheating. the climax of the trial scene is him forgetting Via exists entirely until after he's lost his titles and after he thought he would be put to death

meanwhile Blitzo wanted to be a dad and have a family, adopted a teen daughter who rejected his love despite also needing someone herself. but meanwhile his "relationship" with Stolas is solely to provide for her and IMP and set up his dream business and he actively avoids neglecting her by prioritizing her medical care over getting Stolas' stupid ass out of trouble. the climax of the trial scene is not Blitzo mooning over Stolas but instead prioritizing Loona once again, asking M&M to take care of her. compared to Stolas, Blitzo loves Loona too much and is a bit smothering, but his only real misstep is getting drunk in front of her

Blitzo is the actual flawed but trying father. Stolas was only ever good at being a parent when Via was tiny and too young to see the obvious flaws in her selfish father, who prioritized his affair over her the second he got the chance

It's true, and the kicker is that Stolas doesn't even seem to appreciate or even realize that Blitz is a much better father to Loona than he's been to Via. Hell, before all's said and done, it wouldn't surprise me if the show tried to insist it was the other way around.

[jazeswhbhaven]

What truths would kings reveal to mc while being drunk?

Assuming the kings could even get drunk....I have quick thoughts about this:

Satan: "I may miss him, but he's nothing like you.."

Mammon: "If you wanted to throw me away because I lost value, I'd change myself so you'd cherish me again."

Beelzebub: "I wish I could remember what you mean to me, it's annoying that my heart keeps hurting when I'm away from you."

Leviathan: "I don't want to kill you, but you scare me. I don't like what I feel when I'm around you. Not even that man could do this to me..."

Lucifer: "I wish my brothers could be with me right now. I want them to be devils...so we can be a family again."

Belphegor: "Wanna know sumthin' funny? I jack it Agares' room when he ain't there. His bed is soft 'an clean..." (Also another one for him: "Beleth is more like a wife than he is a noble, naggin' me and such. He fucks like one too.")

Asmodeus: "Sometimes, I just wanna fuck hard and slow....forever so you never leave....so I can forget everything..."

What do I mean for each:

S: He's referring to Solomon. He does still miss MC's ancestral grandpa, a lot in fact. He just knows it's pointless to dwell on it and ignores those feelings because it takes focus off of MC.

M: He's still dealing with the trauma of his childhood, he feels he needs to be accepted by MC and feel wanted and if he fails then he has to keep trying.

B: His memory laspes are his worst enemy and aides to his lingering loneliness. He doesn't like feeling sad, if he can remember how to be sad in the first place.

L: MC stirring up feelings inside of him gives him anxiety. He doesn't like showing weakness, but MC makes him want to be vulnerable. He's never wanted to be so helpless and be protected. He's always had to be the strong one.

Lu: He doesn't regret his choice, but he regrets tolerating his brother's actions and the will of God for so long. He wishes he had done something different, and he wants them around. It genuinely hurts him that they aren't there.

B: He's honestly goofy and says whatever he feels like when drunk. That's why nothing he admits is to be taken seriously and he laughs a lot during while slurring his words.

A: He just admitted to MC that sex for him is like a coping tool most times, because he's still hung up on Solomon's rejection...and the passing of his wife.

[hugemilkshake]

“Like I said, losing the draft kicked me in the spine…”

Oh come on-

Anyway, I’d like to request a head cannon for Yandere ancients…

How would they react to Y/N head patting them?

I drew this lazy ahh sketch because I was tired wanted a visualizer of what their reactions might be.

Enjoy the milkshake! Something quick while I deal with the two fics I’m currently writing (I put them in a slow cooker)

Yandere ancients getting headpats

-platonic or romantic-

!SMALL TW! Under the cut there is implications of intentionally neglecting one’s heath/ harming one’s self and attachment issues

—————————————

Pure Vanilla

He smiles softly and thanks you but internally he’s melting

He feels so happy when you do that

If you know healing magic then he will hit his head on purpose or conveniently forget that he hurt his head so you can heal it for him <3

I mean it’s just ONE white lie, how bad can it be?

Hollyberry

Hollyberry laughs and will give you one back

She honestly is the chilliest one here, she will give you a head pat and then you’ll give one back, it became a habit

But when she drinks a little too much, she will end up begging for affection, but that’s just her being drunk and not her real feelings!

Right?

Dark Cacao

Dark Cacao is very stoic, while he’s gotten better in recent times, he still is stoic.

He internalizes this as a sign of affection and that whatever he’s doing is a good thing

You honestly could tell him to go to war for a headpat and he would do it without hesitation. Your word is the law

If it’s after he’s awakened then you better give the dragons headpats too

Not because they want it, they are like annoying little siblings that want everything their older sibling gets

Golden Cheese

Golden Cheese freezes up for a moment

This was very unexpected. But she plays it off very well!

Now you are expected to be around her for about a week or two while you are being spoiled with riches

She may or may not have a breakdown when you have to leave

White Lily

White Lily might cry ngl

She probably hasn’t felt affection from many in a long time

Her guilt clouds her judgement and that simple action is enough to make her guilt leave, if it’s just for a fleeting moment

She wants affection more than she realizes, she just wishes she knew how to ask..

[iamgonnagetyouback]

─── ⋆⋅☆ james potter

⁀➴ ⁿᵃᵛⁱᵍᵃᵗᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ

✰ ➵ angst ♡ ➵ fluff ୨ৎ ➵ funny

⋆˚࿔ james potter x reader who plays the popular 'asking my boyfriend to leave while I change' prank on him. (♡)

⋆˚࿔ james potter x reader where he removes his glasses and flirts with you (well not so much flirting as being a dork) (୨ৎ/♡)

⋆˚࿔ james potter x reader where he stays quiet, too quiet, on your first date and unwelcome thoughts start clouding your mind. (✰/♡)

⋆˚࿔ james potter x reader where he becomes a worried mother hen when you faint in herbology class. (♡)

⋆˚࿔ james potter x reader who goes through a whirlwind of emotions when drunk. (୨ৎ/♡)

⋆˚࿔ james potter x reader where he hates the rain, but you have opposite views. (♡)

⋆˚࿔ james potter x reader where james forgets he has a date...with you? (୨ৎ/♡)

⋆˚࿔ james potter x blacksister!reader who breaks down in front of him (✰/♡)

⋆˚࿔ james potter x sick!reader where he finds the perfect excuse to take care of you (♡)

⋆˚࿔ james potter x ex!reader where lily will have to taste her too. (✰)

⋆˚࿔ dad!james potter x mom!reader where hearing harry talk about his first date makes you and james remember your own. (୨ৎ/♡)

⋆˚࿔ james potter x reader who does the 'not saying i love you' prank on him (୨ৎ/♡)

⋆˚࿔ james potter x reader who loves hates his fall puns (୨ৎ/♡)

⋆˚࿔ james potter x reader who gets asked out by james with the help of the boys and..... minnie? (୨ৎ/♡)

⋆˚࿔ james potter x cat animagus!reader who he picks up thinking as stray and lets in on a secret (୨ৎ/♡)

⋆˚࿔ james potter x reader where the others scheme a date (୨ৎ/♡)

⋆˚࿔ james potter x reader where he's jealous and remus doesn't always talk about sirius (୨ৎ/♡)

⋆˚࿔ james potter x reader who doesn't believe she's pretty but james has the opposite views (✰/♡)

⋆˚࿔ james potter x reader where you both pretend to date for the night which causes some feelings to be revealed (✰/♡)

⋆˚࿔ james potter x reader where you both realize your love through paper rings (✰/♡)

⋆˚࿔ james potter x reader who's insecure about her post pregnancy fat (♡)

BACK TO °˖➴ main masterlist ┆marauders masterlist ┆poly!marauders masterlist

last updated ➳ 8.01.25

[diazsdimples]

"I want to forget you." + buddietommy

"I want to forget you," Tommy slurs. The half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand clinks against the table as he sways, hiccupping. "Both of you."

The air around him is thick with the scent of stale booze and body odour, and Eddie wrinkles his nose. Beside him, Buck is a line of tension, discomfort rolling off him in waves. Eddie supposes it's not dissimilar to how he and Hen found Bobby all those years ago. The similarities are bound to be confronting.

"Tommy, babe, what are you doing?" Eddie asks with a sigh. The old endearment slips out before he can stop it, a force of habit after so long. His brain hasn't quite caught up with the fact that they're no longer a them.

"Makin' a choice," Tommy replies stubbornly. He locks eyes with Eddie, and he can barely see past the alcohol-induced glaze, to the Tommy he remembers and loves.

"Not a choice we asked you to make."

Buck's voice is firm, stubborn, like he's digging his heels in. Buck hadn't given up hope that Tommy would come back to them. It had been weeks of wistful looks at his phone, baking up every spec of flour, sugar, and baking powder within a 5 mile radius. He's not going to let Tommy get away from them so easily this time.

Eddie makes a mental note to thank Lucy for her tip-off.

Have you heard from Kinard? He hasn't been on shift for almost a week.

Tommy goes to stand and he sways violently. Both Eddie and Buck rush to support him, each hooking a hand under his arm. From here, the smell of alcohol is almost overpowering, oozing from his pores. Eddie thinks he could get drunk from the fumes alone.

"'M not good enough f'r you," Tommy mumbles, his head lolling. "N'ver g'd enough."

"Maybe that's something for us to decide."

Buck takes the bottle from Tommy's hand and places it gently on the table. He slings Tommy's arm over his shoulder and jerks his head towards the bathroom. Getting the hint, Eddie follows suit, supporting his boyfriend? ex-boyfriend? as he and Buck begin to guide him down the hall.

Tommy is heavy, even more so when none of his limbs are co-operating. They half carry, half drag him into the bathroom, both men straining under his weight. They set him down on the toilet, and Eddie begins to unbutton Tommy's shirt.

"Get his shoes, sweetheart?" he asks, pressing a soft, reassuring kiss to Buck's temple. Buck's eyes flutter shut at the contact, and he seems to take strength from it, a renewed resolve in his movements as he crouches in front of Tommy.

They work in tandem to undress him, movements which, in another world, would have been the precursor to a night they'd never forget. Now, Eddie thinks Tommy won't remember much of this come morning.

Eddie taps Tommy's nose, and the pilot's eyes, unfocussed, train on him.

"Arms up," he instructs, tugging at the hem of Tommy's shirt. Tommy complies, and Eddie divests him of his final article of clothing. "Now, into the shower."

Meekly, Tommy does as he's told. Buck turns the shower on full blast, and as cold as he can make it, and Tommy jolts as the icy jet hits him square in the chest.

"Thass too cold," he complains, making to leave, but he's stopped by Buck. Buck circles his arms around Tommy's waist, pulling him into a tight hug, and steps under the water with him.

"Come on, baby, let me take care of you."

Tommy probably misses it, but Eddie catches the pleading edge to his voice. Buck needs this, maybe just as much as Tommy. He needs to put his love into actions, because Tommy won't remember words. He needs Tommy to know how much he's loved, by him and by Eddie.

"You'll st'y with me?"

"Always." Eddie steps under the water with them, clothing be damned, and pulls both men into his arms. He tucks his face into Tommy's neck, his fingers clutching tightly at Buck's saturated t-shirt. The last few weeks without Tommy have been hell, and as pissed as Eddie is with him, he needs this. He needs to be close to him. He needs to feel his skin beneath his hands.

"I've got you," Buck promises, kissing Tommy's temple.

"We've got you."

Short and Impactful Prompts

[gamblersdoll]

Birthday sex with Genya…? Oooorrrr… Genya getting drunk for his birthday and fucking his partner? (happy birthday, Genya!)

-Your lovely ⭐️ Anon!

i missed his birthday probably. blowjobs that are sloppy, rough genya, degrading.

his birthday wasn’t something too special, he used to celebrate, now its just a simple day to him as he got older.

but hed never forget the first birthday blowjob he received from you.

the bobs of your head echo, soft gags and fluttering eyelashes that screamed “fuck me slow and controlled” to genya. he wanted to go out, slowly transform to a demon— but those were for the special occasion he deemed so.

“fuck— fuuuuck..” he groaned, tweaking his one nipple and he snarled. “suck that cock, bugga, suck that fucking cock.” he needed you, soft slips of your tongue up his circumsion scar and he nods. “shit shit shit, fuck!” he was losing his ever loving mind, toes curling and cramping in his vans.

“mmngh..” you slurp him up, eyes somewhat crossed from the pleasure of sucking him off. you pull away with a pop, tapping his fat cock onto your flat tongue. “feel good?”

he didnt respond the way you wanted, but he forced your head down all the way to feel his tip hit however much he could. “ stop fuckin’ teasin, bitch.” he growled, a part of him hated that he called you that.. but he couldnt help himself, he had came this far.

saliva dribbled from your mouth, eyes rolling and he thrusts into your mouth at a steady pace. “its my damn night..” he reminds you, taking fistfuls of your hair as handlebars and he whines a little. “fuck fuck fuck fuuuck..! slut for a g—girlfriend!”

you look up to him, trying to keep his beloved eye contact— until he stops, pressing the pubes of his cock against your nose to go deeper. finally, he pulls away with a sticky, thick rope of saliva from your mouth. you gasp, spitting yet blowing bubbles on his mushroom tip. “ happy birthday, bug..” you wheeze, a soft slap to your left side of your face.

he repositioned his cock back onto your lips, forcing it down your throat to hold you just right there. “goddd, are you the most prettiest when makeup is smeared and yer in yer cock sucking drunk phase..”

his thighs twitched, his bright idea popping up.

his foot slides underneath your legs, you feeling what he wanted to do— riding his foot. “like that, baby?” he asks, biting his lip with his fang and he nods, “yeah you do, ride that fuckin’ foot like a good whore.” he moaned, god was he so close— been dreaming of this, but you obliged.

your moans ricochet from the walls, grinding in circles on his foot. “feels… s’good..” you say with a mouthful, but he keeps going at his slow pace.

because tonight was all about him.

[moongothic]

You know I'll be first to point out if/when Crocodile does a little Luffyism, so let's take a moment to appreciate it when Luffy does a little Crocodile-ism;

Like Luffy may be a silly lil goofball, but as he's said many times himself, he's always serious (in combat). And so Fujitora laughing at Luffy right in his face, when they're in battle and Luffy is completely dead serious... Yeah, the way he takes it like an insult gives Crocodile

[the-meme-monarch]

i was telling my sibling about the Would Hannibal Eat Them poll mini essays i was doing and it became “people gotta lay off mr suzuki man. him and yamada are friends. they were acting. why would suzuki even be responsible for yamada’s paycheck when they’re coworkers. suzuki isn’t his boss. and again it was An Act” which devolved into “people Really hate goro when julie was the primary abuser in their relationship” and like man i Hate to be number 1 goro defender but like. like you honor he Did do that. but so did she. and then “bro i fucking hate policeman”

[thegreatyin]

monster and pain for the scoundrel?

(original ask game here!)

Monster: Is your OC monstrous in any way? Is there something that makes them monstrous? Are they aware of their own monstrosity? Do they accept it or reject it?

I mean. I suppose there is the obvious elephant in the room.

Most of the Scoundrel's bat HRT symptoms are currently... superficial at best. They have fangs, and they've already grown horns, but it doesn't really mean anything- their internal organs, reasoning, instincts, etc are all pretty much entirely human. This is routinely a problem for them. They hate it so much. They don't know what'll happen when they truly become more bat than person-

Ahem. Coughs. Anyway.

By-and-large, the Scoundrel is embracing her monstrosity with open and almost too eager arms. She is going "YES... HAHA... YES!!!!" through a window while wearing a sickos T-shirt. She is jumping up and down like a happy rabbit. She is vibrating at a rate of approximately five gazillion trillion bazillion happy bats per hour. She is extremely aware of it and she could literally not be more overjoyed about it.

This is what she wished for, after all. This is what's going to fix her.

...and if it doesn't, well. There's always East.

(There's another aspect of her that can arguably be counted as monstrous, but- well. Let's talk about it next question.)

-

Pain: What's the worst pain your OC has ever felt? Do they have a high pain tolerance?

To put it as succinctly as possible; The Scoundrel has violant eyes.

She did not always have violant eyes. In fact, for most of her life, they were just a normal shade of brown.

And then he happened to play through a certain Exceptional Story, and realized he couldn't stand to forget even a single moment of what he saw.

Things... escalated. Quickly. For some time, she had all but vanished from the Neath- and when she returned, she had a new drive, a new persona, and eyes nobody could stand to forget.

She did this to herself. Eagerly. Happily. And it hurt like nothing else in the world. Turned her blood a few shades shy of the funny neathbow color too, just for good measure.

This wasn't the thing that necessarily created her high pain tolerance, but damn if it wasn't close. Nowadays, the Scoundrel can shrug off almost any amount of pain if he really puts his mind to it. Even if she's usually too much of a stuck-up jerk to act like her high constitution score means anything on a daily basis.

[aidansplaguewind]

You're Ugly Too (2015)

[thedawningofthehour]

Joe Biden resigned as a candiate and I found out from a tumblr meme :(

Your fic makes me so happy in these times

Like I didn't want Biden to run for reelection but I hate this. The time for him to drop out was six months ago. Or he could have fucking resigned a year ago and let Harris run as the incumbent-for real, I half expected Joe to get reelected and then resign the second day, fuck off into the sunset with his dogs and cat and send us tiktoks of him sipping pina coladas on the beach. The only reason I can think of for him to be doing this is that he's about to do a bunch of shit that would tank his chances for reelection, like packing the Supreme Court or declaring a national ice cream day. Actually, no, we already have a national ice cream day, and it's...today, actually. Biden literally ended his reelection bid on National Ice Cream Day. Huh.

Anyway. I would definitely prefer for the first female president to be elected in, but clearly America isn't ready for a female president. 2016 showed us that the most qualified woman still can't beat the most unqualified man. And before you start yelling that Clinton wasn't the most qualified woman-she was practically president already. Bill Clinton's presidency is viewed very favorably, the 90s were great in the US. Hillary has always been the brains of their duo, Bill was the face-look at Hillary during any of her speeches, she is not a natural public speaker and is very uncomfortable up there. But she weathers it, she practices, and she fucking knows her stuff. In an alternate universe we're finishing up Hillary's second term. We have a liberal majority in the Supreme Court and still have RvW. RBG retired and lived the last few years of her life like the queen she was. Four people died of covid. Trump put out a book and spent some time touring conservative news outlets to whine about how oppressed he is, but he's returned to 'washed-out loser everyone ridicules' status. And we don't have that because liberals would rather sit on their hands and wait for a unicorn to come along than vote for an imperfect candidate.

"Well she's corrupt-" THEY'RE ALL CORRUPT. ANY POLITICIAN WHO MAKES IT THAT FAR IN AMERICAN POLITICS COULD HAVE ONLY GOTTEN THERE BY BEING CORRUPT. THE ONLY EXCEPTIONS ARE BERNIE AND AOC AND AOC WILL ABSOLUTELY BE SHOT WHEN SHE INEVITABLY RUNS FOR PRESIDENT. EVERYONE LEFT OF THEM HAS BEEN MURDERED BY THE CIA.

Like, for fuck's sake, yes Hillary was out for herself. She would have still ended up being a solid president, because she's fucking smart and knows that would serve her.

The whole thing with covid, it handed Trump every advantage. National crises are election gold for the incumbent, provided they don't completely fuck it. The only reason Bush won in 2004 (which was the only time a Republican won the popular vote in the last 30-some years, I might add) was because he was in office when 9/11 happened. Three years later, despite Bush still fucking up quite a bit in his response, he still benefited from being the guy who 'brought our country together' and people voted for him as an emotional response. The same would have happened in 2020. And Trump literally had it set up for him. Like, there were already plans in place to handle a pandemic, he had experts swarming in ready to take the reins and deal with this for him. Literally all he had to do was wear a mask and say "listen to my man Fauci, he knows what he's talking about." He would have gotten credit for dealing with covid. He would have gotten reelected. Even the most selfish, corrupt version of Clinton that exists in people's minds would have done that, because it would have been in her best interest.

He couldn't fucking do that. He couldn't shut his goddamn mouth, he couldn't stand to have it not be about him for five minutes. He couldn't wear a mask like a fucking adult. So many people died because he was acting like a literal toddler. And in doing so he destroyed his bid for reelection.

And now we're back here again.

I comfort myself with the knowledge that he's never won the popular vote. That he's killed much of his own base with covid. That he's old, that he has to die at some point. That the Antichrist prophecy explicitly states that the Antichrist will only be in power for three and a half years, that he'll fail at every attempt to wrestle power back. (you guys should look up the parallels from Trump to the Antichrist prophecy if you haven't already, like I'm not religious but it's actually really freaky how accurate it is) But I just...I can't do this again. I was so hoping he'd just be dead by now.

For everyone in the US who will be old enough/eligible to vote in November: for fuck's sake, VOTE. Check your state's registration laws, double and triple-check that you're registered. Vote. Vote blue. It doesn't fucking matter who the candidate is, if Trump gets back in you will never have the opportunity to vote again. People will die. And I will be fucking off to Canada or Europe. I know they got their own problems, but Jesus Christ.

And wherever you live-and this is the only time I will ever fucking say this-I would consider buying a gun if you feel comfortable doing that. I hate guns, I think the 'home defense' argument is fucking stupid, but this isn't a normal situation. No matter what the outcome of this election is, Trump's cult is going to get violent. They're cowards and will go for people they think aren't a threat. I'm not even advocating for shooting anyone, just make it look like you and your neighborhood aren't worth it. This shit's going to get a lot worse before it gets better, and we're at the point I legitimately wonder if it's ever going to get better.

[ayyponine]

Same venue. Same-ish crowd. Opposing seasons. Contrasting vibes.

[lilworms]

I have the giggles