#cuz its not actually polites

[jugganautism]

You should draw siren Odysseus x Polites WHAT WHO SAID THAT GET OUT OF MY SKIN

ykw hell yeah

[mikehasfleas]

Life hack for people with short attention spans:

WATCH DUMB VIDEO ESSAYS!!

I am so goddamn serious. If you have a short attention span, the best thing I've found to help with that is video essays. Please bear with me on this post, or read the tldr:

My attention span was, and still is, totally fucked from my years on the internet and my adhd. I would spend hours on tiktok, instagram reels, yotube shorts, etc, and could barely sit through a TV show episode without opening pintrest to get even more mental stimulation.

But fast-forward to mid-fall last year, where I got really into video essays. Started out with 5 minute "storytime stickmen" videos, then 10 minute explanations of game lore bits, then 15 minute videos on punk subculture stuff, etc, and even though I was still using pintrest and reels relentlessly outside of that, after a little while, I realized that I had stopped pulling out my phone mid-video. The videos were actually grabbing and KEEPING my attention, even if I had little to no prior interest in the subject.

And by now, I've finished multiple 2.5 hour long videos on totally random stuff like the characterization of king candy, the making of a now lost-media tinkerbell movie, weird random stuff in fnaf security breach, etc. Now I actually SEEK OUT these longer videos, and even find myself getting involuntarily disappointed when a video essay I'm watching cuts out at 20 minutes! I actually enjoy sitting through long videos now!

And sure, I don't always watch them in one sitting, but if anything that's even better! I can come back to a video I was in the middle of and STILL keep my attention on it!

This is all to say, you can't just cold-turkey your way out of the instant-dopamine-rush of shortform content. It's just not gonna work. But if you do it gradually, you will likely find yourself getting actually INTERESTED in just the act of watching a longer video. And maybe by extension, you'll find yourself being more engaged in things like your classes because you're already GOOD at being engaged with lectures on random stuff, which will likely make you want to find MORE of that class content (the coursework) because you're used to the information being given for even longer periods of time than the classes are.

Now, this won't work for every type of content, and it obviously won't completely fix your attention span. Hell, I'm still addicted to plenty of online shortform content. But it is undeniably helpful to have even just one facet of your attention span be over an hour.

TLDR (since this IS a post directed at people with short attention spans); I used to have a detrimentally short-as-fuck attention span, but I basically exposure-therapy'd myself into enjoying long videos, and it did WONDERS for my attention span. I want to help you do the same.

So please, for the good of your brain,

WATCH DUMB VIDEO ESSAYS!!!

[medicallista]

I really hate how I've gone from avidly recommending Your Throne to telling people who ask about it to not bother or only read to a certain point or only read certain chapters if they just want psydea

[cutemeat]

Why do people not want Rob in the writers room this up coming season?

idk i just think rob needs to take a step back from the writing sunny for a little while Lol... in the same way Glenn needed a break from it for a bit yknow

[st4rshiptr00per]

..

[toomanyassassins]

i really want to get back into doing art, unfortunately every time i pick up a pencil or stylus i am brutally reminded that this will involve having to do art.

[scrollypoly]

Ok, so with all these posts going around aboht election interference and calling for a recount, i wanted to find evidence that weren't twitter screenshots

Tl;dr - bomb threats yes, 3 fires at ballot boxes (1 had damaged ballots and theyre fixing it), 20 million unaccounted votes is FALSE, this shit takes time to count so be patient, cuz they are STILL COUNTING

Bomb threats at polling places:

This claim is legit, as well as the source being from russian email domains. No actual bombs were placed or set off.

Burning ballot boxes:

3 incidents of burning ballot boxes have been confirmed for this election in Portland, Oregon and one in Vancouver, Washington, both of which are suspected to be from the same individual. Republican and Democrat officials have spoken out against this, ballot boxes were guarded after the incidents started, and fire suppression systems inside the ballot boxes saved the majority of the ballots, except for one box where 488 ballots were damaged due to a malfunction of the fire suppression system.

Fires were also confirmed in Arizona by a man who apparently just wanted to be arrested and had no political motivations.

No fires were confirmed in Georgia, despite repeated claims that most of the fires were in Georgia. Georgia changed their election laws in 2021 in regards to absentee votes. Ballot boxes have been notably targetted for election conspiracy and mistrust. Take this into account when you see outcry about ballot boxes in any way.

Votes not being counted:

The screenshots im seeing particularly note California, which is the state with the largest amount of registered voters. California is also dealing with massive wildfires rn. Its gonna take a couple days, and the election isnt officially over yet. Calm down

20 million unaccounted votes:

Yall . . .

This shit takes time. Theyre not "throwing your ballots out" or "deliberately not counting votes". Be so for real

Some of this shit is valid, and should probably be known. Some of this shit is making yall sound like trumpers in 2020. Be smart. Have critical thinking.

If youre gonna reblog or comment with claims i better see credible evidence to back your claims up or youre getting blocked

Edited to add a TL;DR, no other changes

[tealime9]

nuh uh

[redheadedfailgirl]

Ugh. I was weak and rescheduled with the flakey boy. Watch me get disappointed a second time and laugh at my endeavors.

[innuendostudios]

regarding Measurehead

I've been watching a max-stats run of Disco Elysium's fascist political vision quest - cuz, hell no, I'm not disappointing Kim myself - and the portrait it paints of Measurehead is fascinating. in the base game, Measurehead is just a comically contradictory roadblock to meeting with Evrart: the philosophy of white supremacy spouted from a massive Black body. most players will interact with him early in the game, usually in close proximity to meeting The Cuno, and he's part of what makes the early game seem so unreprentantly edgelord. the kid said the f-slur! the Black guy is a racist! har har!

I've never loved that this is the foot Disco puts forward first, but, on deeper engagement, the game always has more on its mind.

properly speaking, Measurehead is, at his core, a genuinely good and kind man. he gives Harry good advice about not living in the past; he loves and adores his mother; he has an unhealthy respect for his hard and distant father but recognizes he learned strength and self-respect from him, while nevertheless refusing to repeat the cycle of abuse; indeed, he recognizes the balance he feels in himself, the mix of masculine and feminine, of soft and hard, was only possible because his parents lacked that balance in themselves, that his father saw the loving softness of Measurehead's mother and pivoted to its opposite, denying himself softness and embracing the rigid and cold so that Measurehead could experience both; Measurehead has chosen not to have children perhaps because he knows he could not retain this perfect balance, would have to follow his father's example and embrace only one side of himself to provide balance to a child; and he knows this self-possessedness, this full knowledge of who he is, is what makes him appealing to women, far more than his physique or philosophy; and, by all accounts, he eats pussy like it's going out of style.

what makes Measurehead such a batshit character is how he has to contort his philosophies to make room for this, how malleable fascism and race supremacy ultimately are. he can't just not want kids cuz he doesn't want to repeat daddy's patterns, he has to embrace a philosophy of "semen retention" and deny himself orgasm, and he fits that with race supremacy by insisting the real legacy is perpetuating ideas rather than flesh. he can valorize his devotion to his mother and the sexual consideration he pays his partners by insisting this makes him desirable to women and is how he outcompetes lesser men. the philosophy of "balance of soft and hard" is how he can exalt his father as a masculine ideal while still distancing himself from his father's abusive behavior.

one could argue these are all perversions of fascist rhetoric, if fascism had any coherent rhetoric to begin with. Measurehead has grasped the nonsensical nature of race science and authoritarian logic and put them to his own ends, and, being a giant specimen of a man, he can more or less get away with it.

I don't write this as a defense of Measurehead, because, of course, he is spreading a fascist rhetoric that encourages all kinds of violence and bigotry in the world, and a man who is good and kind in the privacy of his mother's office but is a champion of subjugation when in public - especially when he is, in his bizarre way, a true believer - is no kind of decent. but I see it as a look into the utter emptiness of fascist thought.

the four emissaries of fascism we meet on the vision quest - Gary, Rene, the racist lorry driver, and Measurehead - speak a lot of the same words but, at their core, have nothing in common. they have all latched on to the rhetoric and bent it to different ends - Rene yearns for the monarchy, Gary wants a pat on the head, the lorry driver is an incel, and Measurehead is trying to self-actualize within the confines of hypermasculinity. the only rhetoric that can encompass all four is one without substance, one of infinite flexibility, that offers nothing more than the promise that you will get everything you want, and that directs your rage at something other than yourself.

in that respect, despite being perhaps the most emotionally healthy person in the game, I find Measurehead pitiable.

[halfusek]

ok so i wanna make something clear about poland, our results arent actually as bad as they seem (tho they arent ideal either)

and that is because pis (conservative-socialist party that has some fascist rhethorics) and konfederacja (the nazi party the sort of la pens) do NOT cooporate with each other, they loathe each other, especially konfederacja doesnt want to work with pis

and pis has a strong stable dedication from old people and smaller towns to vote for them, which means that the actual nazi party cannot gain as many votes from the less radical general voters which there is way more than those radical

pis in the eu parliment doesnt join the ID group, they join a different right wing group but not the same as afd (germany) and rn (france) which is good because the last thing id wanna see is them getting 20 more seats

of course pis still sucks ass but konfederacja is way worse and they Really Dont Wanna Cooperate, pis generally doesnt hit it that well with other alt rights because alt rights of the western world looove russia and pis hates russia and they would never switch their view on that

AND their opposition - koalicja obywatelska (ko) just beat them for the first time in my god definitely over a decade but probably longer which is HUGE. ko is centrist-progressive-capitalist, they cooperate a lot with the current party ruling eu parliment and are part of it

additionaly ko is in coalition with other parties that also made it into the eu parliment

and yea those other two parties did poorly (lewica and trzecia droga) while konfederacja did great - basically half a year ago we had parliment elections in poland and lewica and trzecia droga fell a few percent since then while konfederacja grew twice and THAT is the not good part

however it is kind of attributed to poor campaign of these two parties and low voter turnout after few tiring months in polish politics scene

so while it does appear that the result in poland is kinda 50/50 against nazis id say its less problematic than france or germany cuz their Actual Nazi Parties are way stronger than konfederacja is (which pis is not. not really. and their result is actually considered a Big Loss in poland! for the first time in long years they arent the party with most votes!)

it really is only horrible with lewica (the left) barely getting 3 seats, theres been a lot of problems with the leadership of the party and their voters are very unhappy with them, wo they either didnt show up (which is. ugh) or voted ko which is defo the push it needed to go above pis

you win some you lose some

I really need to emphasize that the German- overt- no exaggerating- 100% certified Nazi party, will have as much of a say in EU matters as the entire country of Austria

(based on the EU election results as of 9 June 22:00, there's still time for it to get worse)

This isn't a fucking joke. Pay attention to diaspora in Europe, even when the US eclipses everything else

[uarmygguk]

BACK TO YOU ⋆ 전정국

ıllı . . . . . TWIRL ME TWICE — i'll treat you like a holiday and don't say you're over me baby, it's too late ⨾༊

brief, you always seem to go back to him, what about now? starring, drummer!jk x rich f!reader tags/warnings, smut. mdni. dry humping, dirty talk, cursing, oral (m) receiving, slight degradation(?) not pronounced, oc is an entitled rich girl, and jungkook falls for her antics basically, but don't get it wrong— he craves it. usage of drums during intimate moments (he's a drummer and he's jungkook so cut me some slack HAHHA) nicknames, pov shifts (clearly mentioned), emotional push and pull, kind of slow burn, characters are messy in their own ways but everything ties together— if something is unclear, send me an ask/comment !, angst (sorry babies). word count, 6.7k love diaries music rec, "if you lie down with me" — lana del ray, "heartbreak warfare" — john mayer, the party & the after party — the weeknd note, this started as an idea from js a simple thought of mine, can't spoil rn cuz what's the fun in that,, loved writing this because i accidentally js spewed all my need for a slow burn BUT not so slow (iykyk) in here. i edited this so many times its not even funny how i hyperfixated. did i mention how obsessed i am with drummer!jk? yeah that's it.

────୨ৎ────

“1,2,3.. stop!” the man, in his mid-twenties and ginger hair, which is the only color he stuck to for about 4 months straight now, practically yells into his mic.

“Jungkook you actually have to lock in, mate. This is not doing you any good, y’know.”

“You can clearly see I’m fucking trying, Jimin. I told you I needed to step out like right now, we’ve been at this for hours.” 

Jeon Jungkook. Lead drummer, easily a handsome lad who could be mistaken for a very successful celebrity. He’s got that aura, the charm to waddle into the hearts of numerous girls and guys alike, just like he does at those tiny desk concerts— the original miniature set-ups with a lot of sweaty bodies and headbanging. 

The raw stuff. Pure music. Flatlining passion.

“ ‘kay just go take a drag or something, but remember, return back by 7. Or I’m actually going to go hunt for someone else with no hard feelings.” Jimin passes on a complacent grin to which Jungkook rolls his eyes, he knows the latter cannot evade the decade long friendship they shared, nonetheless.

Jungkook walks over to the wooden door of the cramped studio where the duo was practicing, and since this very day consisted of rumbled musings and adjusting tones of the new release because the other members of “Seom” haven’t shown up and Jimin could only get hold of his dear brother to pour sweat into the new album along with him.

“Seom”— island in Korean, grounded the boys to their Southern roots, and tied them to the strings of reverberating music, just like how water expands and ripples around an island. It was mostly Jimin’s idea, to which Jungkook agreed immediately as he wanted their essence to be a part of this whole game. 

Ping.

Classic notification beep. The message is far from the “class”, however.

[shortcake] 5.57pm fuck you.

Oh he wishes. Start of the day so hellish all he wanted to do was be balls deep inside you. 

He shifts, leaning against the tattered door frame, locking his phone, shutting out the cascade of profanities filling up in your chat. The blob of silence that followed seemed to dissolve into thin air as a puff of smoke hindered his obscure view of people bustling about through the narrow alley.

Utter contrast to where he met you for the first time.

Back to : 6 months ago.

Jungkook wisely controlled the awe-filled sounds that threatened to leave his mouth, while Jimin and Hyunjin on the other hand, straight up wow-ed at the dazzle of golden chandeliers, polite service of umpteen number of waiters and waitresses catering to every other person, cold air that refreshed the scorching heat outside this magnificent yacht as soon as their lot entered the foyer.

“We’re looking for Conference Room 3” Jungkook referred to his emails before making a request at the reception, tapping his fingers on the crafted marble desk and adjusting the instruments on his shoulders.

In the meantime he luckily notices Hyunjin slide to the left, initiating loose talk with the other receptionist, thus pulling him by the collar to the latter’s unpleasant surprise.

“I was just shootin a shot, okay?” His lack of understanding was not the mood, especially for today.

They must remain composed and professional until the band’s first official performance for a crowd with more than a 100 people came to a successful end.

There was barely time for aimless flirting and fun. This was the foremost opportunity to grab a place and set the stone for Seom.

Hundred, however, is more than a few for a birthday party. But what more could be expected from a full-fledged family of chaebols. 

“We don’t have much time, but Kook, you need to brush up a few beats before the stage. I’ll go ahead with Hyun to get the set done by then.” Jimin unpacked his guitar set and signaled Hyunjin to follow him outside to the stage area.

Finally done setting up the drums and arranging the kit, Jungkook tests it for a few beats, before flipping through the music book for a brief second to make final touches.

Click.

The door unlocks and closes, assuming it’s Jimin and Hyunjin, he continues to maneuver the stick through the booming plates of the drum.

“Y’all back already? They set up the stage for us too or did something fancy?” He passes a casual joke, unbeknownst of the fact that you were on the receiving end.

“That was quite a faulty pun, Jungkook Jeon?”

You read off of the rear of his chair that had his name on it for identification.

Perched on a personalized chair paired with such a comment rolling out so smartly didn’t sound as cute to you.

His head whipped and almost cracked, turning around at the words that flowed so elegantly, as opposed to what he was expecting.

Hands folded against your chest, slightly bunching up the fabric of the baby pink satin body-con hugging your well-built figure, doing a bad job at leaving much to one’s imagination, especially with the thin straps as sleeves.

Composed. Professional. He reminded himself.

Having seen you during the meeting where Seom was selected to set sail and perform at your birthday bash, he deemed you as a handful when you chanted numerous details into your dad’s ears and when you disagreed with most of the proposals they had for the final track list. As mentioned, fancy was the alternate last name for the Choi family.

He could deal a handful.

Or so he thought.

The damn look in your eyes. It propelled him forward, leaving the wooden seat behind, walking towards you ever so slowly but steadily. 

“Careful, pink princess. Your dress boutta get messed up, don’t want those personal butlers to curse at you.” 

The corners of your lips twitch ever so testingly. As if a single smile could give it all away.

“Were you playing ‘Heartbreak Warfare’? Thought we finalized the track list accordingly.” 

You briefly look around the dingy room with dim lights and concrete walls, unpainted— fit to be a green room, he watches you closely.

Fairly enough, it was an embarrassing accident you wouldn’t admit. The yacht was genuinely too sophisticated and you lost your way to the ladies’ room.

Coincidentally, you hear your favourite song being played live on the drums from a nearby room titled “Staff Only.” No one could stop you from entering anywhere around on the yacht your dad booked for the big day. 21st birthday bash. And you knew you had everyone wrapped around a pinky.

With him, though? You don’t know.

Don’t know why a look at his face, seconds ago screamed “Not today.” 

His smirk yelling at your senses to keep your power to yourself.

And his unfiltered comment at the beginning? Perfect starter. 

You, nonetheless, took pride in your ability to bring what you craved for, at your fucking feet. Only, this one would take a lot more solo effort.

Consider it done because— goddamn was he a man. Sleeveless tank-top hugging his miniature waist ever so tightly, projecting whatever toned muscle that hid beneath, tattoos twirling around his left arm.

“Lined up our songs for princess’ birthday while she shares pretty strawberry cake with her friends.”

He leans on the backrest of the chair, with his name printed across a piece of white paper, tainting your eyes with dripping taunt.

“Can’t wait to hear it.” You spit, but surely you wanted to explore their band and music. 

“Would you give me some cake too, huh?” He slips the mockery in every fucking word with practiced ease, just like how he handles those drums.

“That doesn’t explain you playing ‘Heartbreak Warfare’.” You clawed at the previous question, ignoring the sly ask, genuinely curious as to why he chose that particular song minutes before an actual performance.

“Why, favorite?” He muses, flipping the book to a certain page yet again, positioning himself in front of the instrument.

“None of your business. Can you play it again?” Latter part of the sentence ever so feebly and hesitantly left your mouth as if it was tightly wound against your vocal chords, barely finding strength to be pushed out as a request. 

A wish. One that you don’t know— for the first time— would be granted. Having everything served on a platter from Day 1, this is a new deal for you. The doubt, the anticipation felt confusing to say the least. 

Seeing him steer through the papers and almost giving in to what you said, it seemed like a win.

Until it wasn’t.

“Afraid not, it’s my cue to be back on stage. That was my warmup song and I’m done.”

He sits forward, actions biting back on his words, as he looks least interested in hurrying to “be back on stage.”

“You’re literally performing for my party. It’s my crowd out there and they’d be forgiving if a drummer’s late.” Diving head first into this pointless banter was never on your agenda for today.

“Feeling entitled much?” He seemed calm, fidgeting around to pack up necessities.

“Says the one who’s owning that little wooden chair with his name on it like a throne.”

You were done. All restraints broke, a spiteful remark was nothing. None. Nada.

To your utter disbelief, it actually did nothing to him.

Jungkook finally got up from the damned chair, moving towards you and painfully looking into your eyes before gracing your ears with his raspy, raspy voice.

“Too bad, I do own my name. My own name. It’s my only throne.”

You weren’t stupid to miss the disdain laced stress on that particular word. Like he was throwing daggers at you. 

Tongue poking behind the smooth walls of your cheek, you watch him fucking leave.

His resistance to you was instantly delicious. 

Were you crazy for wanting him to be completely into you? Forget the back and forth and fall face first into the waters from a height to test your limits, when all you loved and have ever experienced was a cozy, elevating and classy cold plunge.

___

“Yeah, wine’ll do for today. You don’t wanna get too drunk.”

You nudge at Jessi, best friend, ride or die, whatever. Having known her since private kindergarten —the ones where a couple of selected children get tutored alone unlike the actual ones— she’s been a tad bit crazy, especially with alcohol and parties, as you grew up together.

“Why, you planning to get wasted and use me as your chauffeur because you can’t get your dad’s car sent?” She deadpanned, adjusting the MiuMiu purse that clung around perfectly on her honey skin.

“Spot on.” You squint your eyes at her, ridiculing, as you walk towards the venue.

“Look at herr!” Taehyung hoots in glee as you enter through the grand doors, starting a poor rendition of “It’s your birthday” as he pulls you by the hand, into the chaos.

Taehyung was the unavoidable guest at any party. He brings life with him, even if it mostly makes you question the invite.

“Guess what flavour of cake i got for your special dayy-“

Taehyung’s words blurred into the horizon as you were consumed by certain thoughts.

Kim Taehyung was no one distinct, just another man from your dad’s friends’ family who owned a bunch of inherited businesses like most of the people present in the party today.

Except the ones on stage.

The one, among them.

His name never left your mind, unusually so, because you don’t hold on.

Don’t build connections, never chain the beads of relationships with bare hands.

It always came with something.

But him?

A puzzling, faint secret.

Jeon Jungkook.

“Stop avoiding me just because I ordered strawberry shortcake, I wanted to give the new bakery a try too, now c’mon and clink clink bitch.” Tae was already tipsy and it was-

What did he just say?

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Kim fucking Taehyung. You literally took freedom for granted.” You shoot a sharp look at his red face, snapping back from the trance, but he just pouted in response.

“My bad I let you buy the damn cake, asshole.” You watch him pay no heed to you, going back to being an utmost social butterfly.

Everyone applause. 

Birthdays were not supposed to be this humiliating.

“Lined up our songs for princess’ birthday while she shares strawberry cake with her friends.”

You recall Jungkook’s words and everything and beyond you want right now would be the ability to sink into the fucking ground.

Courtesy : Kim Taehyung because he literally made way for Jungkook’s assumptions to come to life.

He didn’t have to be so lively, y’know.

“I need another cake there, in 5 minutes.” You whisper to Jessi, but she didn’t seem to notice, eyes glued to the train of texts being exchanged with her boyfriend.

___

21 wasn’t supposed to be as humbling.

The 20 somethings were to be full of cruises through picturesque islands and a possible girls’ trip if Jessi was into it. She’d be, but you wanted it to be a bit more relentless and intriguing. 

You wanted to explore.

Maybe your wish was granted— partly— earlier than you’d please.

“Seom” as you learnt from their introduction was nothing less than a fucking wave. One to explore. To indulge in, especially the lead drummer.

Even if you’d hesitate to admit, seeing Jungkook go all out on the drums, setting a bar so high and then hitting the lows before springing back up with just the taps of two sticks and a determined mind, he looked insane. 

Sweat clinged onto his forehead, wispy stray hair falling to the sides and god the tank top.

One that didn’t go unnoticed by you during the backstage shenanigans.

The music ends with thunderous applause from the audience, and you see Jungkook reach for the mic from Jimin, clearing his throat into it before speaking.

“We really enjoyed performing here today, but there’s a special ending note I’d like to play.” He signals for the others to exit the stage, claiming it alone with undeniable presence, blasting a beat into the speakers with those damn skilled fingers. 

He was playing the background score of “Heartbreak Warfare.” 

You weren’t exactly subtle with the reactions, eyes widening as the tune grew familiar.

“He’s so fucking good at this,” Taehyung slurred from behind. “But missing only one thing.”

“— a grammy nomination.” The man looked so proud of his witticism.

His luck, you were too engrossed in how Jungkook completed the rendition with absolute perfection, doing justice to every single nuance of your favorite song.

“Do we have any of the strawberry cake left?” Your unhinged doubt in the middle of the performance— consuming the premise, and people— makes Jessi chuckle from behind.

“Weren’t you the one who made me go place an order for another one? We literally cut the chocolate cake I had to run last minute for, and this boy is damn upset.” She points at Tae, who was mindlessly chugging another shot of his alcohol, looking farthest from upset. 

“___, we’re going to the dance floor now, c’mon” Taehyung started testing the material of your dress between his sloppy fingers, trying to grab your attention like a carefree kid.

“Can you ask them to send a piece over to Seom’s green room? Meet me at the dance floor after.” Running a hand through well-set hair, you look back again— eyes catching sight of his unrelenting drive towards music that almost topples you over on those fucking louboutins— before catching up with Taehyung’s jittery steps towards the party room next door.

Jessi was cent percent sure you were on to something.

Because, one piece of cake for 3— math wasn’t tallying up right.

And you taking personal interest to have it delivered?

Weird.

__

his pov.

The trio stands around the now droopy cold, untouched piece of sweet goodness dressed in baby pink icing, as if it was about to be convicted in court.

“Whoever sent it in, they could’ve packed three more.” Jimin sulks, as if more pieces somehow equals to finding whoever this anonymous confectioner is.

“But we’re only 3 people and one’s here already, dumbass.” Hyunjin analyses the situation as though satisfying their sweet tooth is the only problem here.

“An extra piece wouldn’t hurt you right?” 

The trial about a damn piece of strawberry shortcake ceased abruptly, hanging over the edge through Jimin’s harmless remark. 

However, someone in the room seems to have attained enlightenment— precisely not so— because he was praying, hoping to whatever higher power that it wouldn’t be what he thought it was.

The conclusion was inevitable.

“I’ll be back.” Lead drummer, guides his own way to the adjacent ballroom.

It wasn’t some sort of cinematic appearance— he didn’t enter in as the prince who aimed to claim his princess.

He was a walking mess. Like a literal strained bunch of bafflement.

At your fucking audacity. 

Like you were mocking his service. His team’s hard work.

There was no way to sugarcoat it.

You were being an asshole.

And just like a rifle zeroes in on its target, Jungkook’s gaze pinpoints yours among the sea of people. He moves further, a mild hurry outlining his steps through a bunch of sweaty bodies mixed with the expensive scent, lingering on, making it easier to distinguish the crowd as ones from high-end families.

He remains aware of the surroundings— the lap of luxury sprawled out and highlighted each speck of dust around— even in the air.

Nevertheless, that was gotten rid of.

His presence of mind packs a suitcase and makes a bolt out of its abode, as soon as your eyes meet his.

As if an urgent sense of victory ziplined through, he watches you slowly bite your lip, trying to hide a smile.

Not the one that looked like a perfect crescent moon, one that radiates joy, though. Yours was synonymous to that of a fucking Cheshire Cat on a mission.

“Knew you’d come.” Your red glossy lips mouth, and he caught it amongst all.

Jungkook was furious, but he was dissolving.

It was as if an imaginary string connected the both of your bodies, the pull growing stronger by the minute.

Slow and steady, wins the race.

But his libido takes over, avoiding all the speed bumps.

And then he realized. As if it wasn’t so obvious.

He wanted you.

However, you didn’t have to know that.

___

If it was the Jungkook 30 minutes ago —who fired up from backstage to ballroom in less than 2 strides to catch hold of the fucking menace of a woman for trying to deride his performance— he would’ve laughed at the face of anyone who tried to tell him, that he was holding that very woman by the waist in the middle of a dance.

Breath.

“Your heels are about to punch a hole in my feet.” He shifts you forward so swiftly with one hand on your waist, legs finally coming alive again after 2 minutes of torturous dancing.

“Tryna hold you together, if you fall apart. I can distinguish between a good dancer and a bad one, y’know.” 

“I’m gonna leave if you keep running that mouth of yours.” He whisper-yells into your ears, above the 165 bpm party music.

His jaw twitches at the reason he’s still anchored in the same spot.

Another request. One that took flight way easier than the previous one. Your pretty mouth asked for help.

“Don’t wanna look alone in my own party. Dance?” You had asked, peeking at his anger infused red eyes 30 minutes ago, through your angel-like lashes, which had him expressing distaste, but quickly securing him behind you.

Ass pressed up against his crotch, he knew you were testing his boundaries. He knew you were careful, measured, as your hands rhythmically made its way around his neck, adhering to the beat.

His hands still around the small of your back— unsure if it was to steady you or himself.

Minx.

His hands find solace in your swaying hips, pushing you forward, trying to maintain distance.

Because this was supposed to be a nice gesture. An act of goodwill so a girl won’t feel alone on her birthday.

Why the fuck was he sporting a semi?

“You’re enjoying this too much aren’t you, shortcake?” 

This time, he didn’t have to push you away.

You sprang off, akin to how the like-poles of magnets repel.

“The fuck did you just call me?” You had to yell, some of the drunk dancers sending weird glances.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? You pulled that act to-”

“Shut the fuck up.” You whisper, moving closer to his ears, dragging him out, swerving through to the common restroom.

____

your pov.

“What’s all this, __?” The sudden silence echoes his deep voice throughout the entire place, making you dizzy at its amplification as opposed to the hushed noises coming from outside.

“Huh?” You pant a little, looking up at him yet again with those eyes.

He hoists you up, cold marble coming in contact with your supple, exposed thighs making you wince in the faintest voice.

“What do you think you’re doing, ___?”

His face is dangerously close. Breaths colliding.

“You played it for me, Jungkook.”

“What?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re kidding me, shortcake.”

He jerks back, hands placed on the table, caging you in them but it wasn’t enough.

Jungkook’s head falls next to your shoulder, barely touching as his eyes remain closed throughout.

“There’s nothing I’m joking about here, Jungkook.”

He slightly looks up, still hesitant to catch your eyes.

“I think the fuck yes. You’ve been diminishing my presence the entire night, and that whole cake situation felt embarrassing, __. In front of my fucking bandmates, I felt like nothing.”

His head falls again, as if some inner beast caught his breath, sighing.

“I don’t see a reason for that.” You shrug, in genuine confusion this time.

“Yeah you wouldn’t. Because I made the mistake of agreeing to perform here, when Jimin and Hyunjin clearly had no reason to.”

“Is it ‘cause you owe my dad?” A sly smirk creeps up into your lips, as Jungkook finds it in himself again to look at you.

“Do I have a fucking choice?”

“You should’ve thought before wandering into our territory, asking for help.” You swing your legs, still on top of the restroom table like you’re on some play-date, enjoying ice cream on a sunny Saturday.

“I needed it for survival. Seom was falling apart, and we really required that sum of money. And oh, you’re talking about Mr. Choi, the ever so generous man, huh? Your dad has put me through it even if I was a minute late to pay him back each month.”

“I can help.” 

You offer. Simple, cut through. It was always the simplest of suggestions that seemed like the end of the world.

“You? You’re holding on by a thread to your family, but except your thread— it’s made of money. Mine isn’t.”

“Bingo.”

Oh.

“Be with me for a month and I’ll help you relieve some stress. Know you need it. In return,”

You pause, meandering your vision to his, watching his expressions twist, lightly.

 “I’ll tell dad about your situation.” This was your cue to pull him closer by the ends of his tank top.

“Best believe, you think I’d be on my knees, accepting your offer right now” He tears himself apart, now fully on two feet, the distance between your bodies increasing.

"Remember the name you own that you boasted about, back there? Don't forget about the price you have to pay my dad, to uphold it." Laid-back, pausing for a moment, you could feel the gears turning in his head, back facing your frame now.

“There’s only one exit, to every entrance.” You say, as he was headed for the door, coming down from the table, you had your hands folded, yet again. 

Always the same.

The sound of his resolve snapping, was another alarming echo, as two worlds collided.

It was the answer to your proposal.

His lips taste like unadulterated need. Those roamed around yours, in a hurry, like a telltale of passion. He occasionally presses your foreheads together, taking as much as he wants before dipping in again. 

There you knew.

This was about to turn into a constant cycle. An endless war against sanity.

You, him— one heated glance, two bodies meeting to fight it.

____

Present.

his pov.

It feels quite deranged to think about.

Approximately a year ago when Seom was in the trenches, Jungkook, unbeknownst to his bandmates, found himself in front of Choi Enterprises. Even though the sum he got from your dad was useful in a way, it was hell to pay off. He handled it all alone, and wanted it to be a secret deal.

He still remembers that day, where you sat in front of him, flaunting the information like it bothers you.

He still remembers the way you thanked him.

Two simple, simple words. The ones that were taught as basic manners in school, ones which are usually ignored. 

Two words he never saw coming his way, even with years of hard work and struggle, living in small dorms and surviving off of convenience store food for a dream.

No one ever appreciated him, except the person who he least thought would.

“Thank you.”

It held the fucking weight of the world when you elicited it from your posh voice.

It took him here. Landed into this mutual succour, drove him into the heights of insanity, shared nights and whatever remnants of passion he had.

It's been six months and a few.

Yet here he is, still tangled up in need for you.

You asked him for a month, but that was just a feeble fabric to mask how you both just wanted to have a good fuck after everything going on in your lives, seeking whatever you missed.

However, Seom was on its success grind. After the storm of hardships, you did keep your promise. Continuous shows, a few sponsorships.

There were clear boundaries in this mad game of push and pull. 

It always remained a casual fuck, right after his gigs or sometimes in the closed walls of your luxurious penthouse that he thought he’d never see.

Because, you were mostly travelling, going on trips with god knows who.

He finds himself concerned about your company to these getaways, more than you’d given him the right for.

He opens up his messaging app again, briefly glancing at the time before opening your chats.

Finally.

Three dots appear, leave for a minute— not to be mistaken— as it comes back again with a bang, bringing in hot trails of new messages.

It was as if you were waiting for him to see your previous string of profanities.

[shortcake] 6:10 pm Asshole, where the fuck are you? [shortcake] 6:10 pm It’s been a week, Jungkook. Send me your location or you know I have my ways.

[jungkook] 6:11 pm I’m at the studio. Come to my room, behind. You know it.

He wondered why you didn’t bother checking in for a week, and clearly popped out of nowhere.

It’s just a casual hook-up with a rich girl who helps, sometimes. Who’s a menace, mostly.

He reminds himself, yet again.

Reality is so fucked up.

___

your pov.

You barge into the small practice room, a sense of knowing wrapping around you, ‘cause you’ve fucked almost everywhere at this point. It’s filthy, but it somehow keeps you together.

There was not a living soul here.

Huh.

“Shortcake?”

Honey coated voice— the one you hadn't heard for almost a week— engulfs you, heating you up like molten lava.

You simply walk over, throwing your bag on his couch, now acting as if the entire place’s yours, before piercing on the stool behind the drums.

“Where were you?” He casually sets up the aircon, closing the door as if he knew what’d happen any moment from now.

“Not your business. But guess.” You extend your hands, flaunting a set of rings made of sea-shells.

“Maldives? You went on tour again?” He asks, placing your tender fingers on his, examining the rings before abruptly taking them off.

“The fuck are you doing?!” You round up, trying to get hold of one of your favorite pieces.

“This’d look good in our studio. We’re sea themed, and I’m starting to think you got these for me.”

“You fucking wish, Jeon. Give. them. back.” You try to reach for his hands behind his back, slightly urging the both of you to the walls behind, but he wouldn't budge.

And then he does.

He turns around, crashing his lips on yours in a frantic kiss, pushing you against the walls, hands still holding your rings behind his back. Clutching together.

Your hands free run to his face, bringing him impossibly closer.

Somehow, his lips roaming around yours, pacing back and forth between consuming your edged gasps, felt like the end  of something.

You can’t pinpoint what, though.

Standing tall, head straight to catch a breath, he throws your damned rings off.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Especially when you have him, diving down again to catch your lips in his, running tongue through its seams, ever so furiously.

“Fuck, you’re even better after each trip, __.”

The contempt tastes bitter on your freshly patched up lips.

You knew he didn't mean that.

Last week, before Maldives, you parted ways after a fiery argument about your 'big girl adventures' like he called them.

All it took was you to post a picture with your dad's friend's son, Minho.

He’s about to kiss you again, when those freshly done nails of yours press lightly against his chest, halting the actions.

“Go sit there for me, Jungkook.” You muse into his ears, pointing at the stool behind his instrument.

“Why do you have such a thing for those drums? Hm, shortcake?" His demeanor seemed out of track, eyes blazing into yours.

He’s always been vocal about what he wanted, the clear boundaries and whatnot. But today was in your hands.

You pull him forward, pushing his chest, forcefully getting him to sit on that little chair.

And the next thing you do, takes his breath away. Snatches it, visibly.

You sit on his lap, legs wrapping ‘round his torso— his hands instinctively moving to your hips, holding you in place.

“Your hair has grown so much, kook.” You scramble about, untying your own silky locks that cascade down, bringing the piece of hair tie to his wavy ones that fell ever so prettily over his forehead, arching your chest into his face in the process of crafting a man bun.

You could figure out his fucked up state under you, but the coherence lasts no longer than a second as his mouth envelopes your hardened nipples, from over your flimsy skims top, the friction sending a zap of electricity through you.

“Wearing nothing underneath, you’re always so planned, huh?”

He goes back, trailing slight kisses around your smooth, buttered up neck, grazing the one spot he knew would send you in spirals, as soon as you finish tying his hair up.

“Uh-huh, wanna see you.” You bring him up, his forehead displayed, skin shining under the lights that illuminate the room.

“Hmm, proud of myself.” You grin, as he pushes you forward, hastily, that makes you helplessly choke out a moan.

Because, he’s already hard, and amidst all of this, you’d almost forgotten the purpose of this visit.

“Show me more things that you’d be proud of, shortcake.”

He guides you again, folds delicately parting at the feeling of his hard on, hidden behind the slacks.

Stupid pants.

“Off. I need these off.” He lets you pull down the sweats, catching you off guard after, by stopping you with a grip on the wrists. 

“Don’t have much time. Just— fuck— just sit on me, okay?” 

Oh.

You inch forth, capturing the supple skin of his neck, sucking on it gently, and you swear he elicits a deep guttural sound that you’re so used to, but he pulls you back by the forearm, halting your actions.

“What is it now?” You roll your eyes, clearly tired of the way he stops you at every fucking step.

“Don’t leave marks, __. I’m serious.” His eyes mirror red-hot warning, which provoked your otherwise vague intentions of actually giving him a hickey.

But all you do is move on his growing hard-on, desperately, because,

Fuck trying to work him up when you can clearly see him snaking into your arms, your actions.

His hands fly to your hips, holding them against his own yet again as you set a rhythm with this entire thing, whatever the fuck it was— it was sure getting him riled up beneath you.

“Fuck, yes- sshit- just like that, shortcake.” He groans into your ears, hands frantically tugging down the white skims top to finally reveal your bosoms. He presses a light kiss to the very ends of your nipples that pebbles under the cold air of the room, making you hiss into his ears at the sensation, head falling back as your torso never fails to ride into his.

You could see how close he was, with just a look at his outline pressing ever so deliciously into the tight Calvin Klein's you were sitting on— claiming as yours with every stroke of friction felt in between your thighs.

“Just fucking want my- goddamn- performance to get over so that I can fuck you backstage, angel.”

Your stomach tightens at the idea, strings of what could be his name, and a few profanities slipping out of your mouth.

“You want someone to catch us, don’t you?” His doe eyes look up at your figure on his, and you just dip down in response, sucking on his neck again, purposefully leaving a dark, purple mark on it.

Maybe, you wanna see him mad.

“Fuck, __. You can never stop being a brat and listen to me for once.” You were achingly close to snapping that knot coiling in the pit of your stomach, the traction from the rough fabric of his boxers giving you life, just about to send you over the peak.

 But he just— as cruelly yanks you off his lap.

“Down. On your knees now.” He gets up, pulling his tee away from his body with just one hand.

This shouldn’t be turning you on.

But it was, so you do.

Drop down on your knees, behind the fucking drums, your frame hidden behind. 

The thought of someone barging in at the sight of Jungkook and you behind, seemed so enticing to you, but it vanishes as soon as it takes form, when the man right in front of you, grabs your open hair tightly in a pony-tail, before you could even pull them boxers down and take him in your grip.

“You’re not gonna utter a word, and do as I say.”

You look at him through lidded eyes, too far gone to even retort now.

“Use your mouth, __.” He spills out your full name, and that means it's done. Your part is over.

“Yes.” You state simply, his face contorting in amusement, before pulling his boxers down just enough for his fully hard cock to come up.

However, he was wrong, in thinking he had the full advantage of being the upper hand.

“What happened to having no time, baby?” You huff, too fast to let him catch the tone, before taking his tip in your glossy mouth, and all that came out from him in response was a lucid groan. 

You knew he wanted to curse at you, sputter pure despise at your audacity to ignore his words. 

Best part is, you also knew what your mouth did to him.

Something that sounded like a hushed out moan rumbled out of him, as he pulled your hair, guiding you well.

“Fuck, you love taking me, don’t you? Filthy girl doing so well for me.” He seems to have entirely forgotten your words amidst the mirage of pleasure your mouth enveloped him in.

“Can you look at me, __?” He sputters, hands hovering over your glossy cheeks, hollowed out around his cock.

He lets go of your hair, brushing it to the side and tucking it behind your ears, the blazing pull that burnt your scalp deliciously all along, finally coming to rest. 

His voice was gentle, the one you could feel everywhere, so you continued, without adhering to his wish.

Because, you were taken aback by the soft call.

Terrified.

What happened to the harsh monotony he put through minutes ago?

The sting on your scalp hasn't fully died out, yet.

How the hell did things transition so quickly?

Like he had a mid-sex awakening, purely due to some blood flow issues?

Hormones?

Focus, __. Your hands presses on the muscular flesh of his upper thigh, as movements grow confident around his cock, slightly stroking the base with your fingers now and then, teasing, the jerk of his hips against you so sudden, you mumble a hushed fuck that travels all the way up his breaking point.

“Yyes- ffuck- shortcake do you not hear me? Look up at me, __.” He forces your chin up, as your eyes follow his face, contorting in gleaming pleasure.

“You’re so f- pretty nghh-” Those sounds. Desperate and splintered.

“I’m c- god fuck, where do y’want me, shortcake nghh-” He makes the prettiest sounds, sure, but you were still dazed.

“Wherever.” Your blunt response caught him off-guard, as he slowly pulled out, his own hands taking over, desperately and rushed.

“I’m- fu- shortcake, you’re gonna be the end- ssshit- of me” He snaps, like its been forever, cumming so fucking hard, as it leaks onto your chin that he’s still got a hold of. 

At one point, he’s gasping, panting, riding his high like it’s the last time, stamina completely thrown off.

But the next minute, his hands are on your forearms, nudging you up, manhandling, imposing, lifting you up by the waist with the ease of his tatted arms, onto his drums.

Your ass presses far too much onto the rim of the drum pad, its nuances nudging your soft flesh as he clings his body onto yours.

“What the fuck was the attitude you gave me, __?” He rasps, bold and unrelenting into your face. 

“I’m leaving today.” You say in a breath, wanting to close your eyes and hide from his questions that you knew would follow after.

“You were the one who texted me, called me and came in here. Now you’re leaving? Is it because of the trust fund baby you posted last day? Minho?” He speaks into the afterglow that glistened your face, the lights more brighter as the evening transitioned into the fall of night.

“I won’t come to your concert this week.” You just keep on spewing these sentences, knowing that he’d get mad, but it was inevitable.

He pushes away, the sudden loss of proximity and warmth almost propelling your body forward to chase it again, but you control.

“I’ll use your restroom, yeah?” You grab the bag and rings that lay forgotten.

His lack of response was definitely novel, but you don’t dwell.

Jungkook plops down on the couch, hands slowly untying the man bun that knotted his hair tightly, ruffling the now free curls, raking his palms slowly through them.

You come back, hands washed and freshened up, seeing him sprawled out on the couch.

Those lingering moments and conversations weren't a part of the deal. As much as you wanted to explain— how you had to urgently leave for London and why you're missing his concert— the way his features softened during sex, while he had you on him, all over and consuming.

That was new.

Bemusing.

You wanted to say anything, really.

But what was there to tell him, that doesn't sound like a goodbye now?

So, you quietly gather your things— the only things filling up the space being the hum of the aircon and the sofa creaking with his legs shaking in somewhat an anxious tone— and leave the studio.

────୨ৎ────

note, endingment and all who am i lmao BUT

part two?

the post oc made with minho here

────୨ৎ────

[patchworkcuddlebug]

Checking In

>hey is the doll thing real no shame if its just a roleplay thing but like im starting to see em in town more and i just wanna see whats up

>oh! uh hi! sorry i didn't check this earlier i don't get a lot of messages but uh, yeah, i'm becoming!

>holy shit no way

>you're uh, okay with that right?

>what yeah i wanna see what its like and stuff its a witch right

>oh, yes! dolls only really become through magic, and witches are the ones who control it. i went to her and asked

>wait you werent like kidnapped

>i just felt as if i what? oh, no, of course not! she said that there's no n sorry. Miss said that there's no need when so many are willing

>miss

>yeah, it's... the right way for a doll to address a witch i thought it might be a context thing but. guess not!

>oh damn so you just cant control it

>well not exactly? i can hold it back but it feels... bad lt's a little like trying not to blink if i want to, i can just call her "the witch" but it doesn't feel lkie somethig n i should be sdoing Miss. she is my Miss ugh yeah that's already such a relief like, i felt myself shiver from the tension leaving my body

>holy shit so shes just mind controlling you?

>no, not really!

>why would you want her to do that

>it's more unconscious i think? like it's not about her replacing my thoughts with her own it just feels a little less natural to think certain things

>thats mind control

>and it's all for the sake well uh... in a literal way i guess she's technically co Miss is technically controlling my mind but it's i dunno, nice? sorry it's just a personal thing i'm not sure if I can really get into it

>oh cmon you gotta tell me more obey me or whatever your a doll

>right, of course

>theres no fucking way that actually worked

>please stop you're making me blush... but! um, yeah, i just... don't want to be a person anymore. honestly i don't think I ever was one i always felt so lost even if i had so much guidance like i was just supposed to BE something i'm not like it wasn't enough to just do what i was told, i had to change who i was always fuc always messing up and always being insufficient in a way that had to be corrected

>wait wait wait you cant sayh fuck

>so having Miss there to take away the um ...it's inappropriate

>yeah thats the point

>good dolls are meant to be polite

>im actually losing my shit right now is it supposed to be that bad

>i uh

>cuz i swear ive heard dolls say fuck does it like get worse

>it starts pretty small, and then it gets more intense day by day i could try to be rude but it would just make me feel gross not that being a human is gross or anything

>i promise i wasnt thinking that

>i'm still kind of resisting and everything after all i mean, being a doll sounds nice, i want to be one! but. this is the last time i'm going to be human (i think? you know how witches are) so i guess i just want to... savour this

>huh really yeah i guess i get it itd fuck me up if i got all my organs removed and shit

>oh um, if its okay for me to ask, why do people always bring that up? there's a lot to being a doll being just the organ stuff *beyond so it's kinda weird i keep seeing it come up

>its weird dude no offense like your gonna be porclin or plastic or whatever like im fine with it but its still weird to imagine

>yeah, i... guess it is a little striking? and it's the most outwardly obvious change so uh, i guess it makes sense people are usually attached to their insides, and stuff interoception, right?

>so whens it gonna happen

>uh, when's what going to happen?

>whens your body change

>sorry if that came out wrong i uh i'm... not sure, really Miss says it takes a while for everything to shift into place. and it's hard to know specifics from doll to doll but it'll probably take a little longer than the mental changes.

>the mind control

>she says i still ne yes, the mind control Miss says i need to be careful with tea. i'll crave it much more but my body can't survive off of it alone so i need to be careful with my food, and stuff

>cant she just command you to eat or whatever

>yes! Miss has done just that that's why i'm being so careful because good dolls are obedient and this one is a good doll

>woah uh right ok hey theres something i gotta do so thanks for talking to me and stuff

>oh of course! have a nice day ^^

. . . . .

>Hello! It's been a while since we've talked, how have you been?

>wait are you that doll

>Yes, this one is the doll you talked with a few months ago.

>holy shit no way theres no way it happenes that fast is that you in your pfp

>Yes! This one is on the left, next to Miss.

>yeah the doll i got that holy shit dude youre just a. fucking doll now what

>This one is a doll! Awawa! Would you like to talk more about dollhood? This one would love to answer questions for you!

>yeah im fine i think glad to hear about your whole thing have fun

>Oh, okay! Have a good day! Don't be afraid to reach out again if there's anything else you'd like to talk about!

. . . . .

>Hello again! Sorry it's been a while, this one has been a little busy with its chores. How are you?

. . . . .

>This one saw your last picture! Your partner seems very nice.

. . . . .

>Alright, you seem pretty busy. Be sure to reach out if you have a spare moment, this one would love to hear from you again!

[spaceycat]

Future Congressman James Bucky Barnes

i am going to be so honest, i absolutely HATED the idea that marvel made bucky into a congressman but this picture is changing my mind... slowly... enjoy some headcanons about congressman!bucky barnes pooks !!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

༄.° ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀ��ɪɴɢ ... 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞  ╰┈➤ 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚗!𝚋𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚜 ꩜ .ᐟ

♫ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: 15 minutes by sabrina carpenter (3:12)

✰ Actually obsessed when you grab him by his tie and pull him into a kiss, makes him want to wear them a shit ton more.

✰ Whenever he's taken off his tie, unbuttoned a few buttons of his button-up, wearing a vest, rolling up his sleeves he's not leaving alive - you will fuck him until you CANNOT walk anymore.

✰ If you guys are friends with benefits, oml - when he calls you late at night going "You still up?" YES I AM??? its likee half-political half-suggestive, if that makes any sense. like you can just tell that he was working like a fucking dog and now he wants to fuck like one.

✰ Lowkey breaks the serious dress code, wearing a leather jacket instead of a suit jacket, boots instead of shiny leather shoes, his dogtags visible with the few buttons unbuttoned on his shirt.

✰ He does shit to you that are DEFINITELY not approved by congress, sneaking you into his office - riding him in his desk chair, sucking him off underneath his desk as he takes calls or does work, sets you down on his desk literally SWIPESSSS all the shit off with his metal arm just to eat you out and have you whimpering, you mentally beg there isnt security cameras in his office.

✰ It's like his libido just doubled when he entered congress, since he doesnt get to see you as often the sex is more feral, more passionate and with him having set rules of what to do in congress makes him want to break them all even more and have rumours be spread about you two.

✰If you're his assistant or on his team, there'd be noticeable tension between the two of you. you taking notes as he drinks whiskey across from you, the ice clinking as he takes a slow sip. "where my clothes at" LOLLL

✰ if you go to a fundraiser or event with him, he's ensuring that everyone knows that you're with him - his hand on your waist, the occasional kiss on the lips or neck. Adjusting your dress or necklaces, making sure the two of you look good for the cameras cuz yall KNOWWW you're hot together.

✰ If you're arguing with him over politics or something in his office, he just leans back in his chair spreading his legs and you lose your train of thoughts so fucking fast...

✰ When you're in the same room as him during a conference or debate, he just stares at you and you already know what's going to happen and his stare is INTENSEEEE..

✰ There's an image of you two out there where your back is facing the camera and his hand is on the small of your back whispering something into your ear, there was definitely a reddit that was created to discuss who you were and fics HAVE. BEEN. WRITTEN.

✰ Whenever you are at a gala, people are lowkey obsessed with you - there was this guy who kept staring at you across the room and bucky grabbed your waist like you'd run away if he didnt and stared the guy down "practically eye-fucking you sore over there."

✰ This man will fuck you everywhere and everywhere, in his office, in the elevator, in a closet HE. DOESNT. CARE......... THANK YOU! and this is making my realise i do indeed love him and will write more fics for him.. oops

[hibiscusseaart]

So about Time Travel Tobirama

He gets back in his childhood, the period when Kawarama was already dead, but Itama still alive, just cuz I like Itama alive and well, ok. (also i love the idea of Itama the weed shinobi by @oh-no-its-bird so)

And he starts to think and strategise smth like "Ok, I need to kill Black Zetsu, but idk where he is. But he should be around Uchihas, so I must come closer. But I cant just go there, we're not in peace, they'd kill me. And I don't exactly know when Black Zetsu is gonna try to manipulate Madara. So I also have to monitor Madara and make sure Izuna doesn't ever dies, to ensure that Madara won't lose his shit".

So, he's really logical and his conclusion was "So the easiest way to monitor the Uchiha clan is to marry an Uchiha." But he can't just marry a random Uchiha, it'd be shitty for politics he is the clan heir after Hashirama after all + it'd be nice way to strengthen peace via marriage. Plus he needs to keep close eye to Madara. So. Marrying Madara it is. Or Izuna. But first of all, Izuna is annoying and second he still needs very carefully look for potential signs of Black Zetsu corruption and it's better to do that when they're in close quarters. So the best case scenario is Madara's hand in marriage.

Killing Madara might be easier, but Hashirama would be sad. Plus I think the ppl who helped him to be sent in the past (coughnaruto who said that) told him smth about that Madara and Hashirama are Indra and Ashura reincarnations and be like "What if daddy Sage gets angry..."

So yeah no killing Madara. Even though he kinda wants to.

And to be clear, he had this plan in the few days he's back in his baby body. He's like 10-12 or whatever, when Hashi starts running to the river to meet Madara. Oh and Itama is safe and sound cuz Tobi said fuck Butsuma and went to safe his baby brother.

So one day Tobirama follows his brother to the river to actually meet Madara before his father decides to fuck everything.

So, Tobirama's the most fucked up honeypot mission officially begun. Tobirama is gonna be like "Ok i need to impress a 12 yo... But I cant just show him a cool jutsu, he might think about me as a rival or whatever... Kids like praise and cool things... Maybe I can tell him that he's cute and find him a cool stick? Should I ask Anija to make a cool stick?"

He meets Madara (without a stick, Hashirama might've suspect smth) and be like "Wow, Anija who would've known you've made such a cute friend" (Tobirama is hard cringing in his head, he's not the best in honeypot missions) and Madara, being about 12 year old, is standing there covered in mud, cuz Hashirama threw him into river or whatever + the little hc that he's kinda ugly when he's in his teens. Like Madara thinks of himself as strong and cool, but not particularly handsome with his wild hair and eye bags.

So Madara is smitten cuz wow pretty boy with red eyes said that He's cute!!!

Tobirama looks at Madara's dopey smile and thinks of the first phase as a success. Now Tobirama starts to spend some time with Hashirama and Madara to monitor their surroundings from their clans, while Itama distracts their father, and also try to win over Madara when he is still an impressionable kid. Plus he starts hinting that they may be Senju and Uchiha and that they should be prepared. But well they're kids who wants to escape all that war and just play with a peer so.

Long story short, Madara be like "So we're gonna make a village and then I'm gonna marry Tobirama!"

Tobi "fuck yes, a bit ahead of the schedule, but sounds good, i'm in"

Hashirama is outraged bc THATS HIS LIL BROTHER!!!

So Tobirama plays hard and makes Madara promise to marry him when they're old enough.

But then well, they're still found out and they still have a fallout cuz of their clans. But Tobirama made them promise to try hard for peace (and marriage), so now they just have to wait til Butsuma dies and Hashirama can become a clan head.

Tobirama tries not to be so efficient at killing Uchihas cuz he will be their family later so he tries to avoid it and just knock out or use some non lethal methods. Hashirama mostly fights Madara and it's almost sparrings at this point. Itama works on his weed empire and learns healing.

Well one day Butsuma dies and Hashirama and Tobirama bully their Elders and rush to try for peace. Tajima (who I think is still alive) is suspicious of all of it and stalls af.

So one day on the battlefield Tobirama says "So, marriage when? You promised asshole", making all the Uchiha and Senju stumble and "HUH?!"

So now many of the Senju and Uchiha now know that Uchiha clan heir apparently proposed to the Senju heir ??? Everyone is confused.

Madara, still crushing hard on Tobirama, catches this opportunity and bullies everyone to allow peace and let him marry Tobirama. Uchiha allow it only cuz everyone knows how crazy Uchihas about loved ones and Madara is the strongest one. They kinda afraid that if they won't allow it, he'd go crazy (he would).

So Madara gets his trophy wife Tobirama, Tobirama gets his safari zone with Uchihas in their natural habitat.

Tobirama is a surprisingly good husband to Madara, cuz with all that Zetsu thing, he's attentive as hell. "Something bothering you, dear husband? Do tell me everything."

At first they think he'd learn things and will tell that all back to Senju, but Tobirama tries to assure them "I don't really care about details. Tell me about how it makes you feel." (he looks for the signs of Zetsu corruption)

So basically Tobirama marries Madara to become his therapist. Madara is very much in love and constantly brags how much his spouse loves him and that he always listens his worries.

Izuna is mad as fuck about all of it btw. He thinks that Tobirama has ulterior motives and hides something. (He's right. ) But Tobirama dutifully plays his part as an attentive spouse and makes plans for bettering Uchiha clan just so that the village won't suffer. He'd probably would prescribe them regular therapy for everyone who awoken Sharingan.

also @fashionredalert write a snippet for this au with madara in the mud! pls check it out!

UPDATE: It's a fic! :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59684869/chapters/152226814

[gatorbites-imagines]

Bo from sinners nsfw alphabet NEOW (politely) please 🙏

Bo Chow nsfw alphabet 

I couldnt find any Bo gifs, sigh.

This man had me clawing at my seat during the movie, those like,,, five minutes of screentime was all I needed. This is like, normal Bo, not vampire Bo. 

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) 

Bo comes across as the type of guy who would give you aftercare, it's not the over-the-top aftercare we would see nowadays, but it's pretty damn good for the period. Like, will hold you, comfort you, give you a treat and make sure you are hydrated. He also allows you to give him aftercare in return. Depending on how much you've wrecked him, Bo gets very clingy and cuddly. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) 

On himself, I think his favorite part is his face and smile, he knows he's handsome and will use it against you. Also, his arms and shoulders. On his partner it's your chest, jaw and thighs.  

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) 

Likes it more than most people, but isn't a complete hound for it. I can see him letting you spill in his mouth, Bo swishing it around, or sticking his tongue out so he can let it dribble all over cuz he knows it gets your blood pumping. His preference for where it goes depends on when and where, if it's at the store or somewhere public, then he wants it inside, if you guys are in private, then he wants it spilled over his torso or similar. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) 

Will sometimes wear women's underwear during the day, cuz it makes him feel pretty, especially if you are into it too. Yearns for you to put cigarettes/cigars out on him, but cant get himself to say it, can get pretty obvious about it though. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) 

Depends tbh. Is he married to Grace in this? Then he's got experience with her, but even if he wasn't then I still think he would have some experience cuz hes such a charming guy. I don't think he has a lot of experience with men though, outside of maybe one or two times. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) 

All-time favorite is when you bend him over the counter at the store before it opens or after it closes. Or any position where you can choke him with your hand or arm. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) 

Bo isn't as serious as some of the others, and can crack a couple of jokes or smirk when you guys start fumbling around, but he isn't some comedy star. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) 

I dont think men were as well groomed back then as some are now, but I do think Bo would take care of what body hair he has, keeps its neat and groomed. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) 

Can be pretty damn intimate when you guys have the time for it, and can spend time actually just feeling each other and experiencing what's between you. Big kisser when you aren't choking him out, or have his face shoved down against the counter or bed. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) 

Doesn't do it a whole lot, mainly because he gets what he needs through you (and Grace if they're married in this setting), I can imagine him doing it during downtime at the shop though, when hes feeling stressed. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) 

Choking and asphyxiation 

Cigarette/cigar kink 

Shotgunning, ig? 

Slight feminization of himself 

Prostate milking 

Overstimulation and edging 

Marking (bruises, hickeys, cuts, etc) 

Massages 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) 

The shop, tbh. It's the whole danger of it, how quickly you guys could get caught, but also cuz he spends so much time there. Also, your place, since that's where you two would need to go to be alone. Probably claims you two play poker or some shit so you can be alone. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) 

You rolling up your sleeves or seeing you in an undershirt always gets him going, especially if you have been moving heavy stuff around, or if he catches you messing around with the engine of your truck, stuff like that. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) 

Using slurs or insults like that. Hes fine with being called a slut maybe once or twice, but it can be too much. It works a lot more if you turn it into a compliment instead of an insult. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) 

Prefers giving, on both men and women. Is very skilled with his tongue, and can improvise when he goes down on you for the first time and isn't sure what to do with his hands and mouth. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) 

The pace tends to be on the quicker side, but that's mainly because you are both needy and at the store, so you gotta hurry. When you guys are “playing poker” at your place though, it ends up getting more intense and slow. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) 

All for it, and you guys do it on the regular because its when you guys can get on the day to day. Your “poker night” might be a once a week, once every two weeks thing, which is the only time you guys can actually take your time. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) 

Is a bit of a risk taker, but not to the same degree as like, Stack. You guys do it at the store pretty regularly, and he lets you leave hickeys or scratches on him, as long as its under the collar. If he's with Grace, then he just keeps his shirt on cuz hes too “busy” to take it off. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) 

Has pretty good stamina, but cant go an insane amount of rounds or anything. Maybe one or two, three when you guys are really in the mood. Unless you are spending a lot of time overstimulating him and stuff. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) 

Doesn't own any toys and neither do you, outside of like everyday items. Like rope, a tie, etc. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) 

Hes a real tease, and can somehow say the raunchiest stuff between the lines or whatever else he's saying. Will get the point across in ways only you can notice, be it how he's saying it, how he's standing, etc. Will also use the back of the shop to grope and rub at you as he's walking by. Rolls his cigarette with his tongue a lot with very intense eye contact. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) 

Not extremely loud, but he does have to bite it down at the shop. Is more of a groaner than a moaner, but will reach a very high whiny pitch when you edge him or overstimulate him. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) 

Wouldn't feel bad about it, if he's married to Grace but is with you. Call him a monster or whatever, but he's probably always known what he preferred, but that he had duties as a man to marry a woman. If Grace ever found someone else to have something with, he also wouldn't mind, it would probably be a relief tbh. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) 

Average in length and thickness, his tip is the cutest prettiest pink color, uncut. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) 

Above average but Bo isn't some kind of uncontrollable beast, he just lets it build until you guys can spend time together. Didn't have the highest drive in the past, but the moment you guys rolled around together it just took off, like his body realized what he liked, so he wants more. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) 

When you guys have “poker night”, I imagine he sometimes sleeps over, but not every time cuz that would cause an argument. It's a once-a-month thing, and you guys always claim it's because you drank too much. But it because Bo fell asleep on you and you didn't want to wake him.