#even though that doesn’t sound like a lot it was to me

[moonstruckme]

Hellooooo

Mae, could you maybe (absolutely no pressure or anything!!!) write something with Vampire!james x reader when he once again feeds from her and actually takes too much or so? Not like so much that it’s really bad or so but like too much, you know?

I haven’t thought about it a lot so I’m sorry that it’s so incomplete. The rest is yours to decide (as always)

(Sorry that my request is so messy, it’s the middle of the night for me)

Wasn't messy at all gorgeous! Thanks for requesting <3

cw: blood, lightheadedness/near fainting

vampire!James x fem!reader ♡ 682 words

You don’t notice it happening. You suppose that’s probably by design—vampires are supposed to drain their victims, after all, and that biology doesn’t account for your gentle boyfriend and his willing bloodbag. You’re not cognizant of any change between when your mind feels pleasantly fuzzy and when it starts to slip away from you altogether, dark spots blotting your vision and your bones losing their solidity. James notices, though, when you turn to mush in his hands. 

“Shit.” His voice is garbled by fang and slurred by gluttony, his arms encircling you to better prop you up. You feel a warm droplet of blood trudge down your front as he takes his mouth from you in a hurry. James swears again, wetting the wound to close it. “Shit, sweetheart, I’m sorry. Are you okay? Can you hear me?” 

You make some somnolent sound of reassurance, but it doesn’t seem to do its job well. James is panicky and upset, trying to calm himself enough to figure out what to do with you. 

“Okay.” He kisses your face, eyes watery. “I’m sorry. You’re okay. Let’s lay down, yeah? Come here.”

You’re not really up for following instructions, but James does the work himself, laying you sideways on the couch and propping your head on a pillow. 

“Stay awake, angel.” He lifts your legs some, holding your ankles in one hand while the other strokes up and down your leg soothingly. “Can you do that for me?” 

You hum. You’re feeling better already. It’s not like usual, where the fuzzy feeling starts to fade as soon as James takes his lips from you, but you’re beginning to feel more solid. “James, m’okay.” 

“I’m so sorry,” he says, voice hoarse with emotion. “How do you feel? Do you want some water?” 

“I feel better.” You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Just a little…a little weird. Hey. Jamie.” You cover his hand on your leg with yours. Your boyfriend’s expression looks tormented, his eyes glassy with self-loathing. “It’s okay, lovely. I’m fine, I just need a minute.” 

“I can’t believe I didn’t stop,” he admits in a near whisper. 

“I should have let you know.” 

“How were you supposed to? I was drinking you dry.” His voice thins. James closes his eyes, agonized. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. That was dangerous. I could’ve killed you.” 

“You wouldn’t have,” you tell him gently. 

“I could have, I—” 

“James.” You sit up on your elbows. Your boyfriend’s brows bunch concernedly, but your head feels fine. Maybe your protectiveness of James is just more substantial than anything else in you. “You wouldn’t have, baby. Really. I know you’re worried you’re going to lose control or something, but that’s not what happened. We just both let it go a little too far. And when you realized what was happening, you stopped without even thinking about it.” You make your voice firm. “This was just a fluke. It was bound to happen at some point, but you’d never really hurt me. And everything turned out fine, right? Didn’t it?” 

James breathes out. “I don’t know,” he says uncertainly. “Are you fine?” 

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You give him a smile, reaching out your arms. 

James hugs you but doesn’t meet you halfway. He presses you back into the couch instead, his arms wound tight around your middle and stubble scritching against your cheek. 

“You promise you’re okay?” He turns his head to kiss your ear. “Be honest.” 

You rub his back. “I promise. I just needed a minute. It’s normal, you know?”

James sighs, his body sinking into yours. “Nothing about this is normal.” 

“I guess. But I was talking about, like, blood donation. This happens all the time in those cases.” You lie there for a minute, you soothing your palms over his back and him with his arms wrapped around you. “I feel fine to sit up now, by the way.” 

“No way.” James kisses the shell of your ear again. “You scared the shit out of me, baby. I’m never letting you up off this couch again.”

[suzukiblu]

Day seven of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. tw: implications of past grooming/abuse and the inherent problems in someone who was in that situation trying to flirt with someone actually age-appropriate. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“. . . ‘fast’,” Kon echoes awkwardly, glancing down at their hands. Tim tries not to wince. He definitely sounds like an idiot or a prude or–whatever. Just incredibly, incredibly uncool. 

He has actually never felt less like a prude since getting to know Kon well enough to notice things like how good the bastard looks soaked in Kool-Aid, but now is just . . . really not the time for thoughts like those, yeah. 

“I, uh–I’ve never actually, um . . . with anyone, actually. Guy or not,” Tim half-admits, though it feels stupid that being a virgin is something to admit instead of just a statement of fact. Normally it wouldn’t be, is the thing, but he just really doesn’t want Kon to think he sounds lame or antisocial or . . . whatever, exactly. “I actually would literally not even know how to, uh . . . give you ‘tips’ or anything. Unless I had like, the prep time to do some research, I mean. It’s just, uh–I don't date much, to be honest. Or, uh. Pretty much at all? Like, you're definitely more experienced than I am either, uh, either way, like that's just–I don't do much of this stuff. Any of it. I have in fact gone out with exactly two girls in my life and they both were definitely, um–also the ones who were making the moves and all.” 

It's not that he never want to make a move, just usually he's too busy being way too in his own head about it or something else entirely or–

God, he is rambling so much, Tim realizes, repressing a cringe when he realizes how blankly Kon’s currently staring at him. Because it is very, very blankly, that Kon is staring at him. 

Crap. 

“Uh,” Tim says with a grimace. “Sorry. Um. If you were expecting something . . . faster, I mean.” 

Kon should definitely not have anything that fast if he’s thinking of himself as a product, Tim’s basically positive, but also that’s actually not any of his damn business, but also he definitely needs to look into Kon’s dating history just to add a few names to his list for when he finally goes supervillain and just maybe look into–

. . . Kon is still just staring blankly at him. 

Tim fails to repress the cringe this time. 

“Uh,” he attempts again. “Kon? Are you . . .?” 

Kon turns literally crimson and ducks his head, but also doesn’t actually stop staring at him. 

. . . alright then, Tim thinks. 

“I do like you. I like you a lot. Like–I like-like you a lot, if I have somehow managed to not be embarrassingly obvious about that at this point,” he tries, borderline flailing in the conversation now since Kon is apparently no longer willing to use his words and he was already not doing that great with it when Kon was using his words, and he can’t even talk with his hands or anything because he’s holding Kon’s hands like an actual grade schooler, except probably no one ever has held Kon’s hands like–no, no, he is not far enough down the supervillain pipeline to be able to finish that thought process and deal with the psychological consequences of having to not burn down the system about it, he really cannot do that at any point in the next ten to fifteen years whatsoever. “This isn't–I'm just–it's not me not wanting to . . . take some pictures, eventually. Just . . . maybe we could wait a bit on it. Stick with the streets and buildings for a little while longer, maybe?” 

He tries for a smile and also tries not to cringe again over how weak an attempt it feels like, and then has the uneasy and uncomfortable thought that actually doing anything like that isn’t even really–is that ethical, even? Even the idea of doing something like that? Kon doesn’t really know Robin all that well, no, but they’re on the same team and the same side, and they’re teammates and at least arguably friends, and Kon also doesn’t know he is Robin, and– 

“Um,” Kon says, his hands tightening just a bit around Tim’s and his face still blazingly and borderline inhumanly red as his head ducks a little lower and his mouth curves into what is, in fact, the most unfairly soft smile that Tim has ever seen on the bastard’s face. “We could do that, yeah.” 

Tim was thinking about something, probably? Which hopefully wasn’t something important, considering just how ruthlessly Kon just fried his brain out of his head. Which is not even reasonable or logical, because all Kon did was . . . well, imply he was fine taking things at Tim’s pace and not actually going to get immediately bored if he didn’t put out and was actually interested in just being together, and also did it while smiling at him like that. 

Alright, fine, Tim knows exactly why his stupid brain got itself fried. He’s still apparently embarrassingly easy, though. 

Well, that’s not exactly new information in regards to Kon anyway. 

[machveil]

You should totally do like a how to draw Konig tutorial for one of ur daily sketches

Chibi or not

But u should totally do it

I neeeeeeeeed ur process

-🦥

notes below the cut - additional notes can be found in this post where I give art tips from my experience

daily König sketch with bonus content♥️‼️post is a little late but it’s due to the info dump below haha, anyways, he’s a little nervous

hi!! thanks for requesting a little “my process” thing - super happy to do one<3

I’ll be using these pieces of him that I’ve done to go over my notes - this is just how I go about drawing him. I’d definitely recommend also going through this post linked above too for additional info because a lot of it carries over!

I think the most important thing for me when drawing König is spacing out his hood ratios. I always start out by just drawing where his eyes and eyebrows are, then I draw the cut-outs around them. after that, I start the stitched neckline - that’s usually an eye hole’s width above his actual eyes, it gives a good allusion to where his forehead would be

they aren’t hard and fast rules I follow, more like a silent guideline that can be meddled with depending on the drawing. I usually follow them because, to me, it looks the best with how I draw him. it’s flexible - same with the sleeves, sometimes they end below his eye cut-outs, sometimes I cut them short and they’re higher

I thought I’d do a step-by-step for the hood folds because just info dumping all at once sounded confusing in my head

I start by just drawing lines down from the corners of his eye cut-outs, then I loosely draw a slanted line to show some bunching of the fabric. the slanted line is usually around where his collarbone would be

best way I can describe figure 2 is drawing folds in a ‘U’ shape. the fabric is falling from his head and ‘pooling’. the ‘U’ shape adds a little depth

miscellaneous little folds around the hem. they follow the way his hood rests, slanting downwards towards the center

if anything, just study how fabric falls and bunches up! a lot of drawing is looking at reference material to figure the ‘why’s and ‘what’s - “why do the folds bunch in certain areas?”, “why is fabric gathering in that area”, “what’s causing the fabric to move like that”, etc

lastly is his body, and as we know, I’m allergic to drawing clothing (read “lazy”). I actually really recommend looking at the post I linked above for this because, in the last figure, I show the Pinterest reference of the man who inspired my König’s body shape (and went into depth on using references)

for arms, in figure 1 and 2, you’ll see me draw an oval inside the bicep and forearm - those are just to add the allusion to muscle mass. if I don’t draw those ovals, to me, it looks a little flat. in figure 3 I go over his waistline because of course I do

I always account for a prominent rib cage line because I personally like drawing a more pronounced rib cage in general. after the ribcage, there’s a slight indent at the waist before it flares back out - that ‘flare out’ is the line for the Adonis belt. again, just personal preference, but I enjoy making the curves a little dramatic so they’re more pronounced and visually appealing to me

I don’t know how helpful that was but I hope I got some information across - uuh, even though I don’t draw his tactical gear and uniform that often the advice I can give is to just look at his model haha. the only gear that gives me a headache is his helmet, but even then I just bs my way through it

for chibi König I just shrink all his proportions and draw a stupid little t-shirt for his head<3 he doesn’t need to think, he’s just a cute little fella. I draw chibi König the way I would draw a puppy, make him look cute without a thought behind those eyes

for additional reference material here’s the link for my Pinterest - I have an absurd amount of reference material for you to browse through

hopefully this was slightly helpful?? I don’t know, as long as you get something out of this I’m happy

[luvergirl-866]

something like love

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 4.1k

c/a - language

a/n - hi!! i am so so excited to be posting my first ever pazzi fic (and also my first post on tumblr!) she’s a cute little fake-dating rom-com for yall, and i hope you enjoy reading it as much i enjoyed writing it! updates will probably be inconsistent but im gonna do my best lol. lmk what yall think!!

“Will you go out with me?”

When Paige asks this question during their weekly lunch date, Azzi is so taken aback that she almost chokes on her Chipotle.

“Shit, you good?” Paige asks, concerned, handing Azzi a napkin to cough into.

Azzi waves her off, swallows, and croaks, “What?”

“Hm?” Paige is staring at her nonchalantly, like she didn’t just ask what Azzi heard her ask. “Oh, that. Yeah, will you?”

“I don’t—“ Azzi shakes her head. Is she being messed with? It feels a lot like she’s being messed with. “Paige, you’re my best friend.”

“Exactly.”

“I didn’t know you…had, like, feelings for me.”

“Huh? No!” Wide-eyed, Paige shakes her head violently. “No, ‘course I don’t.”

Azzi’s stomach clenches—not in the good way it sometimes does around Paige—and she thinks Paige could’ve bothered to sound less disgusted by the notion of her having feelings for Azzi. “Funny, P.”

“I’m for real.”

Azzi frowns. “Actually?” Paige nods and Azzi wrinkles her brow, confused. “So you wanna go out with me but you don’t feel…like that about me.”

“Were you even listening earlier?” Paige playfully rolls her eyes, sitting all casually in her seat with her legs spread like she has the biggest dick on campus. Azzi usually loves it when she sits like that, but now she’s too annoyed and confused to appreciate it. “I was talking about my mom.”

“Oh.” To be fair, Azzi stopped listening a while ago, when Paige was still talking about the hot electrician that fixed her leaky sink the other day. She wasn’t aware the conversation had taken a more serious tone. “Sorry, I spaced. What were you saying?”

“I was saying she and her fuckass husband invited me home for a few weeks this summer…” Paige waits, but it doesn’t ring any bells, so she sighs and continues. “They told me to bring Josh.”

Azzi scrunches her nose. “Eww, why?”

“Because…I haven’t really, like, you know…” Paige tips her head to the side, “told them we ended things.”

“Paige,” Azzi sighs.

“I know! I know. Just, I dunno.” Paige sighs, and Azzi knows she’s trying to act chill about it even though she likely laid awake last night thinking about it. “It’s hard, y’know? They’re not like my dad’s side, they’re not like your parents. You know what they did after I told them…” Paige glances surreptitiously around the restaurant, even though they’re far away from campus and not very likely to be recognized, “everything. And if I told them about Josh and they suspected something, I don’t think they’d let me see Ryan and Lauren again.” Her eyes are wide, now, and she’s doing that thing she does when she gets mad, pinching her bottom lip between her fingers.

Paige and Josh were never actually a thing, by the way. Paige doesn’t swing that way and she’s known it for a long time. But she came out to her mom over the new year, and that phone call had ended in a seething Paige at Azzi’s door, yelling and cursing while Azzi listened, and a broken one in her bed that night, crying herself to sleep while Azzi stroked her hair.

So a couple months later Paige recruited their closeted gay friend, Josh. And they became each other’s beards, pleasing her mom enough that she could stay in contact with her younger siblings. That is, until Josh found a nice boyfriend and Paige was left hanging.

Azzi tries to come up with something to say, something comforting, but she’s not sure there is anything to say.

“And I hate them for that,” Paige goes on. “But as long as Ryan and Lauren are still kids, my parents can still keep them from me. And it sucks they’re holding that over my head but there’s not a lot I can do about it.”

Azzi offers a sad little smile, letting her silence urge Paige to go on, even though she can tell it’s hard for her.

“So, anyway,” Paige sighs, sitting back in her seat, “when Josh ended it, I didn’t wanna tell them, because I knew the calls would stop coming, the support. And so whenever they asked about him, I’d be all, oh, yeah, he’s doing great, just busy. Just bullshitting my way through it.”

“And you’ve been doing this for the past two months?”

“Umm…” Paige looks down at her fingers, counting on them, then furrows her eyebrows. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Okay…” Azzi leans forward on her elbows. “So how does your weird question come into all this?”

“Don’t say no right away,” Paige says, giving her this knowing look she hates.

Azzi narrows her eyes at her. “We’ll see.”

Paige reaches over to whack her and misses. “Lemme explain, damn. So, when they called me last night and invited me to come home with Josh, I was like, oh, shit. And I thought of ways I could handle it.”

“Uh-huh…” Azzi watches with wary eyes as Paige bends to rummage through her book bag. “Paige, tell me you’re not—”

“Let me introduce you to…” Paige keys up her laptop and then turns the screen toward Azzi with a wide smile, “Boom!”

“Oh my fucking god.” Azzi buries her head in her hands.

“No, bro, listen! It’s lowkey impressive!” Paige taps the screen. “It’s titled Game Plan for my Summer Visit to my Fuckass Parents, featuring Azzi Fudd. By Paige Bueckers.”

“Good Lord,” Azzi says, taking a peek at the PowerPoint in front of her. When has Paige ever gone to such lengths as to create a PowerPoint before? This must really be serious to her.

“So, listen carefully.” Paige taps the screen again; it changes from the title slide to one labeled ‘First (and worst) Option’. “I put the worst part because it’s true, but it’s also a lil rhyming moment.”

“Right, okay. Just keep going, please.”

“So, this is the first option that came to mind,” Paige starts, glancing down at the screen. “This is the option where I ghost my parents and refuse to come see them at all.” She taps the screen to a pros and cons slide. “As you can see, I mostly only came up with cons.”

“Yeah, because it’s a terrible idea.”

“I know. So then we have option two.” The next slide is labeled ‘Option Two (mid)’. “I put the mid part because—“

“I get it.”

Paige shoots her a look. Azzi playfully kicks her under the table. “Go on.”

“Okay.” Paige nudges Jennie’s foot with her own, but her attention is back to the laptop. “This is the scenario where I let my parents think that Josh and I are still together by telling them that I can come to Montana, but that Josh can’t. It’d be pretty easy, and as you can see here…” she clicks the screen, “there’s an even ratio of pros to cons.”

Azzi nods sagely. Sometimes, her best friend takes a while to get to the point, and Azzi learned a long time ago that waiting it out is the best way to go.

“But there is this one big con: I can’t keep lying to my parents forever. So this option is pretty much a way to procrastinate on telling them the truth. Which takes us to the last option.”

This slide is titled ‘Third Option (THE BEST)’ along with a few muscle emojis tacked to the end. A headache forms at the base of Azzi’s skull.

“This is where my awesome idea comes in.” Paige gives her a very self-satisfied smile. “Instead of Josh, I take you with me to Montana and we pretend you’re my girlfriend for two weeks. Literally a genius idea.” She leans back in her seat, nodding assuredly to herself, and Azzi can’t help but smile because she really loves this girl. Despite how bat-shit crazy she is.

“P, I don’t—“

“Hear me out.” Paige clicks to the final slide. This pros and cons list is mostly pros, and Azzi spots many love-emojis sprinkled throughout. “We pretend we’ve been dating since beginning of March. They know you’re my best friend; we’ll pretend that after Josh broke up with me, you and I bonded and fell in love or some shit. My parents won’t be happy, but I’ll already be there with you so they won’t kick me out or nothing.” Paige frowns. “Probably.”

Ok, so, Azzi absolutely hates to admit it, but this does actually make some sense. Not that she’ll ever say such a thing out loud.

“And then they’ll realize we’re totally in love and I’m happy and even if they hate gay shit they just want me to be happy, because I’m their kid.” Paige says this last part less like a fact and more like something she’s trying to convince herself of. Azzi can’t help but feel bad for her.

“Okay,” Azzi says slowly, watching Paige tuck away her laptop. “That’s your plan.”

“Yep.”

“I’m seeing a few plot holes.”

Paige waves her off. “It’ll work. No plan of mine is gonna fail, trust.”

“And why should I help you?”

Paige gives her an easy smile, and Azzi sort of hates how confident she is. “Because I’m your best friend in the whole world and you love me.”

Azzi raises an eyebrow.

“C’mon, Az. What is there to lose?”

Azzi sighs and almost says something stupid like I’m in, but this isn’t just one of those things that she can help Paige with without thinking twice. It’ll be two weeks of torture, pretending to date the girl she’s secretly in love with while being surrounded by her homophobic family, and then having to come home at the end of the two weeks and pretend she never got to experience a glimpse of what it’s like to be with Paige in the way she’s always wanted.

It sounds like hell.

Azzi sighs again, ready to say no, but when she looks up Paige is staring at her with something more vulnerable than before, open in the way she bites her lip, her arm reaching across the table like she’s wearing her heart on her sleeve and waiting for Azzi to take it.

Azzi takes her hand, instinctually, and says, “Okay.”

She is so fucking gone for this girl.

They don’t talk about it for two days after that. It’s not that they don’t get the chance, or that they don’t see each other—they go to the gym together both days—it’s just that neither of them seems to have the guts to bring it up. And why should they? It wasn’t too scary while they were having the original conversation—nothing too big or threatening or, god forbid, real—but as soon as Azzi stepped into her dorm after that lunch, she realized just how much she fucked up by saying yes to Paige’s crazy idea.

It would be an understatement to say that talking about it is the last thing Azzi wants to do at this point.

Paige, however, seems to have other plans, as she usually does. When she storms into the living room—where almost every single member of the UConn women’s basketball team is doing homework—she makes a beeline for the seat beside Azzi on the couch and whispers, “Hey.”

Nika leans up from the floor to poke Paige with her pencil. “No chit-chat, we’re working.”

Paige glares. “What, I can’t talk to my best friend?”

“Shh,” hisses Aaliyah, barely pulling her eyes from her laptop.

Paige flips her off even though Aaliyah is too immersed to notice, and then she turns her attention back to Azzi, bumping their knees together. “Can we talk later?”

Azzi pretends to be focused on studying. “Mm. About?”

“About…” Paige glances around furtively, “y’know.”

Yes, Azzi does in fact know, but she really wishes she didn’t. “What’s there to talk about?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Paige says sarcastically. “Specifics? Rules? Details? I prepared a whole new PowerPoint.”

“So that’s what you’ve been doing the past couple of days.”

“Yeah, turns out I love PowerPoint.”

Azzi finally cautions a glance up, and Paige is looking at her, completely serious. The eye contact seriously messes with her ability to make sound decisions.

“Okay,” Azzi relents. “As long as you’re quiet for the next forty minutes, we can talk.”

Paige, dutifully, doesn’t say a word for the rest of Azzi’s worktime, letting everyone study in peace. And that’s how Azzi ends up in Paige’s bedroom an hour later, perched on the edge of her bed while Paige struggles with her laptop.

“Okay, fuck this,” Paige says after extensive fiddling. “My stupid fucking PowerPoint isn’t loading. What the hell.”

Every bone in Jennie’s body wants to take this as a sign from God, the fact that this PowerPoint isn’t working, that they’re not supposed to do this. She wants to walk out of the room—and this agreement—for good. But Paige is her best friend and Azzi had always been too loyal for her own good, so she sighs and says, “How about we just talk about it? Y’know, like normal people.”

Paige frowns but closes her laptop regardless. “Okay. So.”

“So…”

“First off,” Paige says when Azzi doesn’t continue, “I just felt like I should probably say sorry for dragging you into this.” Paige scratches the back of her neck, always a little awkward when it comes to apologies. “I know it’s a lot to ask for.”

Azzi blinks, startled. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, well…” should she back out? If she were going to, now’s her chance.

Azzi looks down at a scab on her knee. “I mean, that’s okay.”

Paige shifts in her seat, the stool creaking underneath her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve had to help with one of your ridiculous plans.” Azzi goes for lighthearted but knows it falls flat under the weight of what she’s going to have to do.

“Okay.” When Azzi looks up, Paige is staring at her suspiciously. She wonders just how bad of an actress she must be for Paige, the same Paige who hasn’t yet detected Azzi’s somewhat obvious, six-years-long crush on her, to see right through her. But then she just shrugs and continues, aloof like she always is. “So then I wanted to ask you about what you think we should do about…all this.”

“…Okay?”

“I was thinking we should get into the, like. The specifics.”

Azzi rolls her eyes. “Paige, just tell me.”

Paige gnaws at her lip until it turns white and Azzi starts to worry it might bleed, but then she says, “We need a sex timeline.”

If Azzi were drinking water, she would have surely spit it out.

“A what?” she asks, sort of incredulous. Paige has said a lot of crazy things before but nothing quite like that.

“Okay, my bad, weird way to put it.” Paige grins as if all of this is funny to her. “What I mean is we need a story to tell my family, our friends. Like, why did we start dating? When was our first kiss? What’s our song? Have we, you know…gone to the penthouse and freaked it?”

Azzi throws herself back onto the bed. Paige’s bed. Which she is just now realizing is probably going to be the bed that many of these fictional events are going to take place in. “Paige.”

Paige is giggling now, which is endearing because Paige doesn’t giggle often. If only it weren’t at Azzi’s expense. “We need to figure it out, for real! People are going to ask questions.”

“People are not going to ask those kinds of questions.”

“Um, excuse me.” Paige stands and walks over until she’s at the bed, pulling Azzi’s legs off the edge playfully. “Have you met our friends? KK’s not shy with that shit.”

Azzi’s ankles instinctively go around the back of Paige’s thighs, but she’s in a certain mindset due to their current conversation and the casual gesture suddenly seems much less innocent than usual. She unwraps them, pulling her legs from Paige’s grasp as discreetly as possible. “So we’re planning on telling them we’re dating, too?”

Paige shrugs. “Yeah. You weren’t?”

“I don’t…” Azzi straightens up as Paige sits beside her, their hips touching. “We spend every day with them, P. Don’t you think it’ll be hard to keep up the act that much?”

“Yeah, probably. But that’s also why I wanna do it.” As usual, Paige sounds completely sure of herself. “We only have a couple weeks until Montana and I wanna make sure we get enough practice acting like a couple.”

Azzi still feels uneasy about the whole thing, but Paige is right—they can’t get onto a plane as best friends and get off it a convincing pair of girlfriends.

Azzi’s face heats at the term. Girlfriends. But that’s what they’ll be, isn’t it?

“I was thinking we’ll tell them next week,” Paige says. “We’ll ask them to hang out and then drop it on them that we’ve been dating since March.” Paige must recognize the look on Azzi’s face, because she puts a hand on her knee—which does absolutely nothing to help. “Is that cool with you?”

Azzi can’t say all of the things she’s thinking right now, so instead she settles for, “Yeah, no.” She pauses, her feet on Paige’s fuzzy carpet, and decides this will be the last time she lets herself doubt this.

“I think that’s perfect.”

One week later, three Saturdays from the end the school year, Azzi sits with a bowl of popcorn in her lap feeling like she might hurl.

“Why are you acting so weird, Fudd?” KK asks, and Azzi startles at her name, looking at the freshman who’s sitting on the floor in front of her and giving her a weird look.

“Leave her alone, Camera,” Paige says, settling into the couch next to Azzi. “What movie we watching?”

They are all crammed into a dorm, as they often are, excited for a chill team movie night in the midst of finals season. Little do the girls know, they will be getting entertainment from more than just the movie tonight.

“No, KK’s right,” Ice says, scrolling through Netflix on the TV. “Azzi’s been acting super weird.”

Azzi, somewhat offended (she thought her acting skills were pretty decent) looks around the room for help. Instead, the girls all just nod their agreement.

Paige nudges her and raises her eyebrows, and Azzi knows exactly what that look means.

“You don’t have to tell us what’s up if you don’t want,” Inês says from her place on the other side of Azzi, dipping her hand into their shared popcorn. It almost makes Azzi want to back out.

Almost.

Putting on her bravest face, Azzi nods and turns to face their friends. “Paige and I have something we’d like to tell you.”

There’s something odd about the silence that follows this, the way the girls on the floor look at each other before turning their bodies to face the couch, the stragglers sitting in the loveseat and at the dining table leaning forward almost imperceptibly.

Azzi tenses up as she is suddenly under the scrutiny of nine other girls. How is she going to lie to them? How is this ever going to work?

Paige, through some form of best-friend-telepathy, senses Azzi’s struggle and places a comforting hand on her back. “I can say it.”

This isn’t what they practiced, but Azzi is too grateful and too distracted by the hand on her back to worry about going off-script.

“We’ve been wanting to tell y’all for a while,” Paige says. “But we also wanted to just keep it to ourselves for a little bit.”

It sounds so natural, and effortless, and Azzi can feel herself slipping into this role for the first time. She pretends the hand on her back is more than friendly, the nerves in her stomach are something other than guilt, the things Paige is about to say are true.

If one good thing is going to come out of any of this, it’ll be this feeling of contentment that Azzi will get to have, at least for a little while. And maybe she’s okay with that.

“Do you guys remember that party we went to a couple months ago?” Paige asks. Her nails scratch over Azzi’s shirt, making her shiver.

“Yeah…” Nika says and at the table in the corner, Aubrey rests her chin in her palms, looking suspiciously like she’s trying not to smile. For some reason, Ice and KK are clutching each other’s hands.

“Well, when Azzi and I got home we just decided to stay together in her dorm…” Paige trails off like she’s hesitant to continue, and half the girls lean closer to them while the other half look a little too relaxed. Ice is now glaring at KK, who’s…beaming?

“Something happened between us that night.” Paige looks at Azzi now, and even though this is what they were supposed to do the look in her eyes still takes Azzi’s breath for just a moment. She has dreamed of Paige looking at her like this for years, and now it is finally happening, and Azzi thinks she would do anything to make this all real.

Paige opens her mouth to continue, but before she can, KK jumps to her feet and squeals, and Ice throws the remote on the ground with an angry, “Fuck!”

Azzi and Paige both startle, and Azzi loves the way Paige’s hand fists up her shirt in surprise, but then the notices that all the other girls don’t seem surprised or confused at all—rather, they all seem to be having similar reactions to KK. Nika and Aubrey are even singing something, and Inês has jumped up from her spot beside Azzi to join the others in what looks a lot like a celebration. Why are they all chest-bumping each other?

Finally, Azzi finds it in herself to speak. “Guys, what…?”

KK kneels to wrap her arms around a sulking Ice and looks at them both, eyes glimmering. “Whatchu mean, what?”

“I don’t…” Paige releases Azzi’s shirt, her hand falling to the seat behind her. “We haven’t even finished telling you yet.”

“Are y’all actually this dumb?” KK asks, before squealing in Ice’s ear and then throwing herself onto the couple on the couch. “Ugh! I’m so happy for you two lovebirds.”

“Lovebirds…?” Azzi asks, but the room is too raucous for her to be heard and when she looks at Paige, all she gets is an equally confused head shake in return.

“My babies are growing up,” Aubrey says, wiping an invisible tear, and Aaliyah comfortingly pats her shoulder.

“Baby,” Amari says, smiling at the both of them, “we have known.”

“Uh,” Paige says, thrown off for once in her life. “How?”

“Because y’all are the most obvious fucking couple in the country,” Ice chips in. She is still pouting, even with Ayanna patting her on the head and Jana rubbing her shoulders.

During the past week, Paige and Azzi have been dropping a few hints here and there in the hopes that they could almost ease their friends into it before telling them, to make things more believable. But obvious? Obvious enough for all of them to know? That’s a stretch.

Apparently thinking the same thing, Paige laughs awkwardly, trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation. “We thought we were pretty good at hiding it.”

“Yeah, right.” Caroline flicks Azzi’s forehead good-naturedly. “KK and Ice have had a bet running for, like, six months now.”

At this, Azzi tenses up, and Paige turns to her, gives her a cautious, confused smile. “That long?”

“I started the bet, of course,” KK pipes in. “You two are so in love.” She sighs dreamily and then nudges Ice with her foot. “You owe me my five-hundy, girlypop.”

“You didn’t even actually win, this doesn’t count,” Ice grumbles. “We made the bet six months ago and they only started dating in March. And also, I thought they’d be way too pussy to tell us yet.”

Paige perks up at this, her unusual awkwardness gone as fast as it came. “Hey! I ain’t pussy about nothing!” and KK chimes in with her own protests of, “Girl, boo! It does too still count, you’re just a sore-ass loser!”

Azzi can’t bring herself to say anything, because their teammates believed Azzi and Paige gave been dating longer ago than this arrangement was even brought up. And that means they must have seen Azzi’s feelings for Paige, and whatever the other side of that is, and they don’t really act like a couple, do they?

“Anyway,” Ice continues, a little less pouty now, “I totally thought I’d have to walk in on you two fucking or something before you ever really came clean.”

Azzi squeezes her eyes shut. Paige’s fingernails dig into her back a little bit.

“I actually can’t believe none of us have walked in on them fucking yet,” Nika muses, and the room quiets down a little, everyone mumbling their assent.

“Maybe they’re celibate,” KK reasons, then fixes them with a look. “Are y’all celibate?”

Paige laughs, and then bends close to Azzi’s ear and mutters, “Told you so.”

For the rest of the night, Azzi’s neck is hot.

This might be more complicated than she thought.

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

Liquid Courage

Wonwoo x Classmate!Reader

Requested? Yes!

Genre: fluff, angst if you squint, college au, unrequited love and perhaps a painful amount of pining

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption and being drunk

Jeon Wonwoo would like to think he’s a normal college student. He’s picked a major that he can tolerate. He goes to class, bleary eyed after all-nighters working on assignments, chugging a seemingly endless stream of coffee. He joins a few clubs to avoid his family’s nagging that he’ll rot in front of the computer playing video games in his free time, though he does enjoy the rot time. He goes out with his roommate and friends regularly for dinner and drinks and parties. But he has a secret, and it’s the totally not normal, totally suffocating, totally obsessive, massive, enormous crush on you, one of his classmates. 

He hit him like a truck the moment he met you in the first day of freshman year, or rather the first day he saw you. He’d like to think he’s not shallow and doesn’t get hung up on looks. A pretty appearance doesn’t always equate to a pretty personality, after all. But he was totally enamored by how pretty you were on the first day to the point that he didn’t hear much of anything the calculus instructor said. He beats his head against his desk in his dorm later that day as he looks at the syllabus. He’s got to get it together because that’s not why he’s here. 

He thinks he’s starting to get a handle on this (not so) little crush when he remembers that the class he shares with you is a General Education class and it’s very likely that you’ll pick a different major than him. His first day of sophomore year, he realizes he was wrong because there you are, sitting in the front row of his Intro to Database Systems class, unmistakably as a student of the engineering department. It’s in this class that he realizes how screwed he really is.

The first time you meet him in the library for a peer programming project, his heart stops beating when you greet him with a wide smile. He had the same reaction when you were assigned to work together the day before and traded numbers. He gives a small smile, because it’s all he can really manage without giving everything away and gets to work. Later that night, he beats his head against this desk again in his dorm room, because you’re so, so smart on top of everything else. Don’t get me wrong, he didn’t think you were dumb by any means, far from it. But he wasn’t prepared to be corrected gently about a complex concept during your meeting earlier that day and he thinks the crush might just consume him. 

When his roommate, Mingyu, asks if he’s good, he just excuses it as being a little stressed by the work he has to get done. Never mind that the project with you is no longer on his list because it was done in a single sitting. He picks up another assignment, kind of regretting that he didn’t drag it out a little longer, even if his heart might not be able to take it. 

~

It’s the first day of the spring semester in his Sophomore year and he arrives early to his Matrix Algebra course. He didn’t know you’d be in this one with him, but he’s not totally surprised to see you here since you share a major and seem to be on the same track. But he is surprised to see you here, next to him. You greet him with a big smile and ask if the seat next to him is taken. “Oh, no. Go ahead, but don’t you want to sit up front?” 

You give him a confused smile as you slide into the seat. “What makes you say that?”

“You always sit in the front row,” he says simply, before realizing how it sounds. It sounds an awful lot like he pays a lot of attention to you. 

You don’t acknowledge his words or the way he flushes a little, but you do chuckle as you pull out your laptop. “Oh, yeah. I was way overdue for an optometrist appointment, so I couldn’t really see the board or screen. Just got a new prescription and new contacts last week, so I can sit back here with you!” 

“Oh,” he says lamely. “Okay, then.” 

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, face suddenly a little cautious. “That is, unless you’d like me to sit somewhere else?”

“No! I mean,” Wonwoo clears his throat awkwardly. “I mean, you can sit here. I don’t mind.”

You smile, though there’s still a tinge of caution to it. “Thanks, Wonwoo.” He can’t really respond because the instructor is sweeping into the room and getting started right away. He’s not quite sure what he’d say anyway. 

~

He’s absolutely beside himself the whole semester. Not only do you keep sitting next to him, but you seem to go out of your way to talk to him. It’s mostly about classes, but it’s still the highlight of his day, three times a week. He’s embarrassingly excited to go to his 8am class with you and it’s starting to get the attention of his roommate. 

Mingyu peers over his comforter as Wonwoo gets ready for class. He watches his roommate get dressed in more than sweats and a hoodie and fix his hair. The final straw is when he puts on cologne. “What class do you have again?”

“Matrix Algebra," Wonwoo says simply. 

“Uh huh. And you need cologne for that?” 

“I wear cologne everyday. What’s the big deal?” Wonwoo asks, though he doesn't sound like he cares about what the big deal actually is.

“You don’t. I’ve lived with you for a while. This is the first semester you’ve hopped out of bed for an 8am, and you’ve been doing it early every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. On Tuesday and Thursday, you have a 10am that you roll out of bed for and go to in sweats. Without cologne.” Mingyu adopts a smug expression. “So who is she?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mingyu,” Wonwoo says evenly. “I gotta go. I’m going to be late. Don’t wait up, I have a project to work on tonight.”

Mingyu glances at the clock when the dorm room door closes behind his roommate. It’s not even 7:40am yet and it's a five minute walk to class. Interesting.

~

Wonwoo feels like he's getting somewhere. It sounds silly, but he’s kind of getting his hopes up that this little crush isn’t totally unrequited. You always choose him for your partner in class and he enjoys meeting you to work on these projects together. You’ve even started branching out, talking about things other than the shared classes you both have. It’s late and you’re in the library with him, talking about a new book series you’re reading and he doesn’t think he could like you anymore than he does now. He’s asking what you like about it without spoilers when a guy approaches you, putting his hand on your back. You beam up at him and Wonwoo’s heart kind of plummets. 

“Hi baby, I was wondering where you got off to. I stopped by your dorm but you weren’t there,” the guy says. 

“Oh, I should have told you I had a project to work on,” you say apologetically. “You weren’t worried about me, were you?” 

“No, never,” the guy says lightly, glancing to Wonwoo. 

You perk up. “Oh, this is Wonwoo. He’s my partner for one of my major courses. Wonwoo, this is my boyfriend, Minghao.”

Wonwoo does his best to be polite, but he’s feeling some type of way about hearing the word ‘boyfriend' come out of your mouth. He didn’t know you were dating anyone, not that it's a crazy thought. He doesn’t see you a lot around campus outside of class because you run in different circles socially. 

Minghao is friendly, making it difficult to hate him. “Oh, good. Maybe you both can help me me with my math homework. I’m an arts major, I’m not cut out for these gen ed courses. Can I join?”

He considers leaving but it feels rude, so he stays, even helping Minghao here and there. It occurs to him that he’s torturing himself by staying. You and Minghao seem like a good match, the epitome of opposites attract really. You’re an engineering major and he’s an arts major. You’re bubbly and outgoing, and he’s a little shy and reserved. But you both are smart and well-read and have a gentle approach to social interactions. Not to mention you both look totally love sick for each other. It makes Wonwoo love sick in a totally different way.

He trudges back to his dorm late, going straight to bed. He skips class the next day, sending you a short text that he doesn’t feel well. He doesn’t respond when you send him a message back, hoping that he feels better and that you’ll send him your notes.

~

It’s the middle of the fall semester, Junior year, and you and Wonwoo are knee deep in major courses now, most of which you share with each other. Whatever hopes he might have had last semester to avoid you seem totally unreasonable, and he's resigned himself to the unrequited aspect of his friendship with you. And it really does seem like a friendship now. He sees you a lot more now, mostly because you spend hours together every single weekday, both in and between classes. So, he notices something is off when you show up late to your shared Networking class, sneaking in with an apologetic bow to the instructor. 

“Are you okay?” He whispers automatically, concerned. You give him a passing glance, nodding, but he spots it for the lie that it is, because your eyes are red and you’re wearing your glasses today, instead of contacts. His first thought is allergies, but he’s known you for a while and you’ve never seemed to suffer from it much before. He watches you set your phone on Do Not Disturb, but not before he spots dozens of unread messages and calls. 

He lets you be for the duration of the class and leads you to the cafe on campus as usual afterwards. It’s a habit this semester because neither of you usually have time to get coffee before your shared 8am. He gestures for you to have a seat while he orders. Another little habit, you both take turns paying on these little trips. When he places your order in front of you, he simply asks if you want to talk about it. 

He does not expect you to tear up and panic bubbles inside of him fast. “I’m sorry, I’m being a cry baby about it. It’s not that serious.”

“Unlikely. What’s not that serious?” 

You sigh. “Minghao and I have been fighting a lot lately.”

“About what?” Wonwoo asks, though it feels like a gut punch to even talk about him. He usually tries to forget he exists. You stare at him and he purses his lips. “We’re friends, right?” You nod automatically and he ignores the way your lack of hesitation simultaneously elates and stings him. “Then tell me about it. At least venting might help, even if I can’t help you fix it.”

You don’t look at him for a while and finally say, “He’s got a bit of a jealous streak. I feel like he doesn’t trust me. We fought last night and it was bad.”

“I’m sorry,” he says genuinely “I’m sure you haven’t given him any reason not to trust you. Maybe he’s just insecure.” Wonwoo says ‘maybe’ but he’s positive that’s the case. He might be too if he was in Minghao’s shoes, but he’d never make it your problem. He waves away the thought because he’s not likely to ever be in Minghao’s shoes.

“Maybe… Maybe I should just end it,” you say. He’s conflicted, because there’s screaming in his head about the idea of you being single, yet you sound so upset about it. 

So he says, “If you feel like that’s the right thing to do. I’m here if you need me.” He lets you go about the day, acting a little bit like a zombie. He guides you between classes, shares his notes with you as usual, and guides you to your dorm building when classes are over. 

~

He certainly does not expect you to actually reach out to him later that night. You call at nearly 10pm and both Wonwoo and Mingyu jump at the sound. Wonwoo’s already pulling on a jacket and shoes when he hears you sniffle, asking if he’s up for a walk. He ignores Mingyu’s raised eyebrow on the way out. 

You’re sitting on a bench outside of his dorm building when he comes outside. “You good?” He asks, even though he kind of knows the answer already. 

“Yeah, just needed some air. You weren’t busy, were you?” You ask, standing up. Your nose is bright red and he wonders if it’s from crying or the cold, or both.

“No, just lying around.” He follows your lead, though he can tell you’re walking aimlessly. “Want to talk about it?” You shake your head and he lets you be. He doesn’t hear anything about Minghao after that. 

~

It’s senior year and there are only a few things that have changed. The first is that neither of you live in the dorms anymore. Wonwoo and Mingyu got an apartment just off campus, and when Wonwoo mentioned that there were other units open in the building, you jumped at the opportunity, citing how totally over communal spaces you were. You move in with one of your friends down the hall. He likes Jeonghan. He seems like a good friend to you, which is the most important thing, really. But selfishly, he likes Jeonghan because the two of you resemble siblings more than anything else and he’s comforted by the seemingly platonic nature of your relationship. 

The second change is that because of this new proximity and lack of rules around guests, you both are in and out of each other’s apartments constantly. Those late nights at the library are replaced by late nights at each other’s kitchen table with laptops and textbooks spread across it. There are also movie nights and video game nights and reading nights and really everything in between. 

The third change is precisely because of this new proximity. His friends are absolutely onto his little secret. Mingyu smirks and raises an eyebrow every time Wonwoo bails on plans and says he’s busy. “Busy with who?” Mingyu will ask tauntingly. Wonwoo does his best to brush this off, but his friends see right through it, like they do tonight. 

You’re sitting across from him at the kitchen table, working on an assignment together, when a lot of noise at his front door makes him groan. You look at him questioningly, and that look only grows when he says he’s sorry for what’s about to happen. He’s done everything he can to avoid this moment, but it seems he can’t escape it anymore. Mingyu’s met you because you’re here all the time, but the others haven’t and they’re about to. 

Mingyu barrels into the room with Seungcheol and Vernon on his heels. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you guys were working on anything.” Mingyu’s apology is a total lie because that was the entire reason that Wonwoo bailed on plans with them, but he won’t call him out on it in front of you. 

“You must be Y/N, we’ve heard a lot about you,” Seungcheol says, introducing himself and Vernon. You glance questioningly still at Wonwoo, but you’re friendly about greeting them back. 

“We’ll be quiet,” Mingyu promises, leading the others to the living room with a smug look. They aren’t quiet in the least, but it doesn’t matter because the project is done within an hour. You pack up your things and leave, telling him you’ll see him tomorrow. He knows he has to face the music at some point, so he decides to get it over with, joining his friends in the living room. 

“So, that’s Y/N, huh? She’s cute,” Seungcheol teases.

“Told you. He’s down bad,” Mingyu laughs. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re just friends. We’ve had a lot of classes together over the years,” Wonwoo says evenly. 

“Is she not single?” Vernon asks. While Seungcheol and Mingyu are teasing, Vernon doesn’t seem to mean anything by it. Still, Wonwoo would like to pretend that he doesn’t feel the way he does and doesn’t want the questions. 

“No, I’m pretty sure she is, but it doesn’t matter. We’re just friends.” Okayyyys and Whatever You Says echo behind him as he excuses himself to bed, because he’s decided he actually isn’t ready for this conversation. He’d like to keep living in denial. 

~

If it was even possible, you integrate even more into his life. It turns out that Jeonghan shares classes with Seungcheol, so now those little ventures with his friends include you and your roommate too. Over time, he sees it for what it is. His friends seem to like yours and Jeonghan’s company, sure, but they actually just like to watch him squirm around you. 

But he’d never dream of turning down time with you, so he finds himself out at the bar. This one is special because it’s actually half arcade. He’s been eyeing it since he heard that it opened and no one objects to making it the outing on Saturday night. Everyone grabs a drink upon arrival and starts making their way around each machine. He sticks with you most of the night and doesn’t even notice how many coins the two of you have gone through or that your friends have long abandoned this side of the building, opting for the actual bar. They even leave you two after a while to go to another bar down the street. 

When Mingyu comes home and finds Wonwoo on the couch, he groans. “What are you doing here? You were supposed to be out with Y/N! We had a whole plan!” 

Wonwoo blinks at his roommate. “What do you mean? You guys abandoned us and when we were done with the games we came home.”

“We abandoned you so you could make a move!” Mingyu cries. 

Again, Wonwoo blinks. “I won’t be doing that.” 

“Why not?!” Mingyu’s cries are getting louder and perhaps a little more like literal cries. 

“Because she doesn’t like me like that,” Wonwoo says, but he’s realizes his mistake as soon as it’s out. Mingyu’s already smirking, wails forgotten.

“Oh? But you do?” 

“Good night, Mingyu,” Wonwoo dismisses, standing up. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll work on it for you,” his roommate promises and it sounds vaguely like a threat. 

“We?” Wonwoo asked, then he remembers how your shared friends abandoned both of you earlier tonight. “You know what, never mind. I don’t want to know. Good night, Mingyu,” He says, meaning it this time.

~

It’s Valentine’s Day, but Wonwoo treats it as business as usual. He has classes that are kicking his ass this semester, namely his senior design project, and he hardly thinks about the significance of the day and how he’s painfully single with an unrequited crush. You’ve been swamped too for the same reasons and you agree to meet him at his apartment for dinner and to work on your projects together. 

It’s late when you leave and he packs up his things after seeing you out. When he goes to his room to settle in for bed, he’s surprised to see a little heart-shaped box on his desk. There’s a little card with his name in your hand writing on it and it makes him stall out. First of all, how did you sneak this in here? Yes, you use his ensuite bathroom while you’re here, but he didn’t even see you sneak anything out of your bag. Secondly, why did you get him anything? 

Heart racing a little, he opens the card. It’s simple and actually gives no indication of why you did this - just a simple Happy Valentine’s Day, accompanied by a little image of a cat and your name written underneath it. Inside the box is a small selection of chocolates. He feels lame when he sends you a message thanking you for the chocolates, and even lamer when you simply send back, ‘You’re welcome!’ He doesn’t know how to interpret the meaning of this gesture and is sort of afraid to ask, so he leaves it alone. 

~

It’s his friends that plant the seed. “It’s almost White Day,” Seungcheol says over lunch. He has a feeling that it’s directed at him, but he stays silent. This is their not-so-subtle way of telling him to do something about your little Valentine’s Day gift last month. He didn’t mention it to any of them, but he probably doesn’t have to because they probably already know since they keep conspiring to get him to make a move. Wonwoo’s caught Jeonghan in on it occasionally too, which might be how they know about your little gift. 

“I didn’t get anything this year,” Vernon says, though he doesn’t sound too put out by it. “Did you guys?”

Seungcheol and Mingyu both shake their head. “What about you, Wonwoo? Did you get anything?” Mingyu asks slyly. 

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, chewing his food. “I did,” he admits shortly.

“Oh? And are you going to return the gift?” Vernon asks, sounding hopefully.

“Maybe.” Another short answer.

“I think you should. I think she’d like it,” Seungcheol says, sounding just as hopeful as Vernon. Wonwoo doesn't ask who ‘she’ is, because it feels a little too much like admitting how he feels. So he just shrugs. 

~

White Day is on a Friday. Wonwoo goes through the day per usual, attending classes and hanging out with you in between. You seem to be in a good mood today, which isn’t unusual, but you’re a little twitchy. He gives you a look as you wiggle in your seat for the thousandth time since sitting down at the cafe in the afternoon. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you excuse. “Maybe a little too much caffeine today.” 

He doesn’t call you out what he thinks might be a lie because as far as he knows you’ve only had two cups today, one this morning and the one you’re drinking now. “Maybe you should cut back,” he teases. 

You give him an entertained look. “You first, then we’ll talk.” 

That night, he finds himself at a single’s mixer with you and your shared friends. One of Seungcheol’s frat friends extended the invitation and he didn’t have a good reason to turn it down. He loses you in the crowd quickly and wishes he hadn’t. He knows the whole point of this thing is to find someone to date or hook up with, but he has such little interest in the idea that he does his best to dodge any woman that approaches him. 

He finds you at the kitchen counter, total chaos around you, but you look totally dejected and unaware of it. He pats your back, getting your attention. That’s when he realizes that you aren’t just dejected, but you’re drunk. “Doing okay?” 

You nod, eyes a little unfocused. “Are you having fun?”

He shrugs. “Not particularly. Do you want to dip?” You nod and he realizes just how far gone you are when you stand up, wobbling from side to side. He steadies you, leading you out of the house. “Okay to walk?” You nod again, clinging to his side drunkenly as you two begin walking back. “You don’t normally drink this much, do you?” He asks carefully. 

“No,” you admit. “Just felt like it tonight.” 

“Okay,” he soothes. “Let’s get you to bed. You look like you’ll pass out anytime.” You don’t fight him when he leads you into his apartment instead. He knows your apartment is right down the hall, but he doesn’t like the idea of leaving you unattended when you’re like this. He hands you some clothes to change into and excuses himself. When he comes back with some water and medicine, you’re tugging the t-shirt into place. He beats back the thought of seeing you in his clothes because now is just not the time. Or rather never. 

“Take this first,” he commands, handing you the medicine and the water. When you’re done, he holds the comforter up for you to slide under. 

“Are you staying?” You ask sleepily, setting in immediately.

Wonwoo chuckles. “Well, I live here, so… I’ll be on the couch though, if you need me.”

You glare, though there’s absolutely nothing threatening about it. “No, just stay here.” You clumsily scoot over, peeling the covers back. 

He should say no, but he’s totally weak for you and can’t think to say no, so he sighs. “Let me change. I’ll be back.” When he comes back, he thinks you’re asleep. He’s almost dozed off when you speak up again. 

“Sorry you have to take care of me. I didn’t mean to overdo it,” you mumble. 

“It’s fine. Why did you overdo it though? I wasn’t under the impression that you really liked drinking all that much,” Wonwoo questions. He doesn’t actually expect to get a coherent answer, but it’s worth a try. He didn’t like seeing you so dejected earlier tonight. It reminds him of how you were when things with Minghao ended a couple years ago.

“It’s silly,” you mumble. You really sound like you’re barely hanging on to consciousness and he tries to ignore how cute it is. 

“Doubt it. Try me,” he dares. 

You huff, eyebrows furrowing. “You didn’t get me anything for White Day.” Wonwoo’s jaw drops, but you’re still rambling sleepily, eyes still closed. “I got you the chocolates for Valentine’s Day to tell you that I like you, but you didn’t get anything for me for White Day, so you must not return my feelings.” You huff again. “It’s okay.”

“I did though,” he blurts. Your eyes shoot open. You don’t look totally present, but you certainly don’t look so tired anymore. “I do.”

“You did? You do?” Your hopeful tone threatens crush him right where he lies. 

“Of course… I just wasn’t sure how to give it to you. You’re a lot braver than I am, it seems,” he chuckles, feeling a little embarrassed. He sits up, opening his bedside drawer, pulling out a little heart-shaped box with a little card on top of it. Your eyes light up at the sight and you clumsily sit up. 

“You like me back?” You’re doing your best to focus on the conversation and the way you add the word ‘back’ makes his heart beat out of his chest.

“Yeah, for an embarrassingly long time,” Wonwoo admits. You reach for the box and he stops you. “Maybe don’t eat it tonight. I don’t want you to get sick. It’ll be here tomorrow though.” You pout, but agree, letting him sit the box to the side. “Come on, go to sleep. We can talk about this in the morning. If you remember, that is.”

You follow his command, but he’s surprised that you don’t lie back down on your pillow, but rather his chest. He’s sure you can hear his heart race, but he would never dream of pushing you away. “I’ll remember,” you insist stubbornly, but then you’re snoring softly the very next second and Wonwoo’s on cloud nine. 

~

Wonwoo wakes up to the sound of crinkling in the morning. He cracks his eyes open, blindly reaching for his glasses. When they’re in place, he scoffs at you. You’re sitting up in bed next to him, picking at the chocolates. “That’s not breakfast, Y/N.”

You grin. “But you got them for me!” You look surprisingly alert, like you didn’t get absolutely wasted the night before. 

Wonwoo nods, acquiescent. “I did. So you remember our conversation last night?”

You hum, grinning wider still. “I do. How long is ‘embarrassingly long’ exactly?”

“A while,” Wonwoo says evasively. “Any plans today?” You shake your head. “Go on a date with me?”

“Okay,” you grin. You pick up a chocolate, handing it to him. “One for you, one for me.” 

He thinks you’re so cute that he can’t even be mad that your shared breakfast is chocolate. He actually wouldn’t want it any other way. 

[numinously-yours]

Choose a bird: How to be the best version of YOU

Thank you to those of you who messaged. I appreciate both your ideas AND your patience. I really thought things were settled down when I asked for your thoughts and then they ramped right back up. But here I am!

Choose a bird from above for a free reading. Today's topic: how to be the best version of yourself. I asked the cards three questions:

What does the best version of yourself look like (to you)?

What steps can you take on your journey to your best self?

How can you avoid getting caught up in others' perspectives?

Your choices are below! Like, reply, or reblog if it resonates, and tag your group if you feel inclined :)

Group 1: Aibo Tarot

What does the best version of you look like? Three of Wands

The best version of you is someone confident standing on their own. You may be dependent on other people for your happiness but you want so badly to be happy on your own. There is a fear that if you start your own journey that you won’t find other/more people that make you feel comfortable and safe.  I have a sense that the people you surround yourself with are simply fine, but they also don’t make you feel empowered to do your own thing or speak your differences. There is a lot of keeping the peace because that’s easier than being alone. It doesn’t mean these people are bad friends or negative influences necessarily, but you know there could be something more. You are longing to find that. You are longing to find yourself, too.

What steps can you take in the process? The Tower & The King of Pentacles

It’s time to create your own tower moment. It may sound counterintuitive since the Tower represents upheaval and chaos. Typically, it’s not something someone is excited to bring upon themselves. But, I think in your case, it’s going to be more beneficial than detrimental. You have to burn some bridges. You have to have some falling outs. Yes, moving forward from your comfort zone is going to feel weird as hell. It’s going to feel scary. You may be worried that ending friendships or setting boundaries was a bad idea, but it is all for the sake of becoming the best version of you. Trust me.  The reversed King in particular is asking you to “give yourself permission to break free and do something different.” Just as a phoenix, your tower will rise again from the ashes even stronger than before.

How can you avoid getting caught up in other’s perceptions? Moonlight, Four of Cups, The Magician

The visual for this pull is below because it was kind of a fun way for the cards to drop 😊 I asked this question and the first card fell: Moonlight in reverse. This moonlight card is specific to this deck, so it doesn’t necessarily have the same meaning as The Moon does in tarot. The first phrase that came to me when I was looking at the card was “turn that frown upside down”. Because the card doesn’t have a traditional meaning, I wanted to shuffle one more time for cards that DO have trad. meanings. These are the two that came out – in this order! THE FROWN IS TURNED UPSIDE DOWN! What does this mean in execution, though?

Recognize the power you have in creating your own life and stop dimming your light. I know that it takes work to feel confident in spaces where you feel small but it is worth the practice! The more you execute your power, say yes to yourself, and make yourself heard the easier it will get. Not only easier in doing it but easier in believing it, too.

Group 2: Delos Tarot

What does the best version of you look like? Two of Cups

For you, I think to feel like the best version of yourself, you are wanting to be in a space where you can create and maintain meaningful relationships. It’s not that you lack relationships, but they feel a little surface level or superficial. You want to feel that SOMETHING, and you want to bring that something to others. You may have your own personal goals when it comes to relationships – wanting a work bestie, wanting a romantic relationship, wanting a strong relationship with a sibling, etc. But overall, the ability to form these relationships as a whole is really what you long for.

What steps can you take in the process? The Devil reversed

My first thought “quit thinking you’re the devil!” lol When in relationships, you focus on your negative qualities. You are always thinking of how you can bring more to the table rather than focusing on what you already DO bring to the table. You tend to psych yourself out when you get close to forming the bond that you crave. An actionable step you should look into taking is working on your shadow self. There are a lot of websites with lists of shadow work questions that get to the root of these types of fears. Shadow work makes you think of things in a different perspective. It could help you determine WHY you shut yourself off at certain times. It helps identify triggers in relationships so you can sense them when they appear and know how to deal with them. Then, I know this is easier said than done, but you gotta push through the discomfort, too. Perhaps your relationships fade when you’re right on the brink of vulnerability. Instead of ebbing backward, take that leap into the unknown. It’s the only way you’re going to get passed that piece.

How can you avoid getting caught up in other’s perceptions? King of Swords rev. and Strength

I know it’s way easier to say online but finding the courage to just be yourself is honestly going to be the best thing you can do for yourself. I feel that you may preemptively get caught in what you THINK others’ perceptions are of you before you know their true perceptions. I know you KNOW what your inner truth is, but you deserve to understand WHY it’s your truth. You have a lot to contribute to relationships and having this better relationship with yourself can also contribute to gaining courage to just be yourself. Doing that shadow work can be really good for you in that growth, too Each time you seem caught up in someone else’s perception, ask yourself why you’re caught up in it. Is it actually an accurate depiction of who you are? Are you trying to protect yourself before anything scary actually happens? Find the strength to be rational because it’s gonna change your mind set a LOT. 

Group 3: Everyday Tarot

What does the best version of you look like? Ace of Swords

The best version of yourself, group 3, is someone who is continually growing. You want to be open to expansion, ideas, spontaneity, and adventure. You may feel a little stuck right now. I definitely think you have the excitement and adrenaline inside you, and you’re ready to let it out. You’re not longing for motivation or inspiration, you’re longing for an outlet for the motivation and inspiration already inside of you.  You may wonder, “how do I explore new opportunities if I don’t know where to start?” “How can I continue growing when people and places around me aren’t growing?” Let’s find out!

What steps can you take in the process? The Devil reversed & The Queen of Pentacles

Let go of unhealthy attachments and nurture yourself if/when you feel guilty for doing so. Part of what keeps you feeling a bit stuck is not wanting to leave anyone behind. You care a lot about a lot of people and want them to experience this growth with you. They’re not quite ready though. YOU being ready doesn’t make you better than them, it just means you’re in a different place. Accepting the unknown that lies ahead is also important for you, group 3. No matter how ready you are, moving forward (likely on a solo journey) is scary! It’s like jumping off the high dive. You just…gotta do it. Lastly, as you move forward onto fun adventures, remember to keep some sense of practicality – this means being aware of what might be TOO much right now, but also knowing that you can do hard things.  

How can you avoid getting caught up in other’s perceptions? King of Wands reversed

Stop setting unrealistic expectations for yourself! I think this really speaks from that last bit of steps you can take. Being practical also means believing in yourself and your amazingness. I feel this extends to knowing you’re capable of being in these people’s lives while still going out and expanding your boundaries. It doesn’t have to be either/or, it can be both. The perceptions you’re caught up in currently might be self-created. People around you might not have even considered the thoughts you think they have. Stop yourself in your tracks if you find you’re going down a road of worry. These people are proud of you and WANT you to succeed. They also think it’s pretty neat that they’re friend is so cool 😉<3

[wadewnstonwilson]

sweet wade wilson headcanons || suggestion by @lokisloverisnthere

pairing: wade wilson (deadpool) x genderneutral!reader

author note: let me know if you guys want me to make this into an actual fic!! also would love to make more headcanons in the future featuring logan or wade so please feel free to drop me an ask!

wade lives for the times when you absentmindedly scratch his back while watching a movie or lying together. he won’t ask for it directly, of course, but if you start, he melts instantly, letting out a dramatic sigh and practically purring under your touch. he doesn’t want to admit how much he loves it, but when you pause, he’ll shuffle just a little closer, silently asking for more.

wade has this habit of standing near you or leaning against you, hoping you'll pick up on his silent request for affection. he won’t outright say, "can you hold me?" but he’ll linger, shoulders slumping slightly until you catch on and wrap your arms around him. the minute you do, he practically melts, though he’d never admit how much it means to him.

wade adores the sound of your voice, especially when you hum or sing. no matter how you sound, he’s in awe, secretly wishing you’d do it more often. if he catches you humming, he’ll sidle up with a smirk, playfully asking, “who are you serenading, huh?” but inside, he’s grinning like a kid, loving every second of the attention.

wade absolutely loves when you give him a scalp massage. he’ll close his eyes and let out a soft sigh, feeling completely at peace. he’s embarrassed by how much he enjoys it, but if you start, he won’t pull away and might even lean into your touch.

wade struggles mentally with taking off his mask, feeling vulnerable about his scars, but if you gently pull it off and kiss his forehead or cheeks, he’s done for. that simple act of touching him, despite his insecurities, makes him feel like the luckiest guy alive.

wade doesn’t ask for cuddles, but he’ll wait until you fall asleep and then subtly wrap an arm around you. if you snuggle up to him in return, he’ll bite back a smile, pretending he’s still asleep while soaking in every bit of closeness.

on particularly rough days, wade loves lying with his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. he’s too embarrassed to ask directly, but if you guide him there, he’ll relax completely, focusing on the steady rhythm to calm himself down.

wade might reach for your hand in moments of vulnerability, like when he’s feeling anxious or upset. he won’t look you in the eye when he does it, and he’ll probably make a joke about it to deflect, but that small connection brings him a lot of comfort.

whenever you do something tender, like scratching his back or singing to him, wade will playfully tease you, throwing out a sarcastic remark or a witty one-liner. but underneath it all, he’s grateful, using humor as a way to hide how much he loves those moments.

wade has his moments of insecurity where he worries he’s too scarred or “too much” to deserve this kind of affection. but when you continue to show him love without hesitation, he feels a little more secure. he might joke about it—“guess you’re stuck with this hot mess”—but deep down, your simple, loving gestures mean the world to him.

[stevenose]

for @bluesontheinside - thank you for voting!!

contains: real handsy reader; lovestruck steve; two idiots in love in a car what can i say

“Steve!”

He could never get tired of that. A grin breaks across his face when he sees you. You’re so happy. Giggling, wiggling while you make your way over to him. He grunts when you throw yourself at him, arms wrapping around his freckled neck. You smell like chlorine and shampoo, green apples and coconut. And wine. Lots and lots of wine.

“Hi,” you sigh, melting into him.

“Hi,” he grins. “You have fun?”

“Mhm.” You bury your face in his neck, sucking at his sensitive skin. His hands grip your hips a little tighter, looking past you to give your friends an awkward smile and wave.

“Come on,” he coos, trying to steer you away and towards his car. You stand on the tips of your toes instead and plant your lips against his greedily.

Steve’s hard in two seconds flat.

He feels your friends’ eyes on him and it makes him blush bright red. But he doesn’t pull away from you either. Lets you kiss him for a little, til you’re satisfied, pulling back and looking up at him like he put the stars in the sky.

“Okay, needy,” he teases, wrapping his arm around your waist and spinning you to face his car. “Tell your friends bye.”

“Bye!” you call over your shoulder.

“Have fun getting laid!”

Steve turns bright red.

“I will!” you shout back.

You giggle while stumbling, wrapping your arm around Steve and leaning into him. He sits you in your seat and wraps the belt around your chest.

“Don’t get handsy,” you say, swatting his hand and laughing more. It’s Steve’s favorite sound.

He kisses your forehead quick, ducking back out of the car before you pull him in.

“I don’t think I’m the handsy one,” he says, slipping into his seat.

“Oh, please. ‘s the first time ever you haven’t copped a feel of my tits when y’had the chance.”

Steve rolls his eyes - he knows you’re right - and pulls back out onto the road.

“I missed you,” he says, reaching over to grab your hand. “You have a good day?”

“I missed you.” You avoid his second question, turning to face him and pouting. “Steve. I missed you.”

It inflates his ego. “What’d you miss?”

“Pull over and I’ll show you.”

Steve wants to. But he’s not even a mile away from your friend’s house and there’s streetlights all around. “C’mon, be good for me. You can wait.”

“Uh-uh.” You sound so serious, though you slur. “No, Stevie, wanna feel you so bad.”

Steve’s breath hitches. “Yeah?”

“‘ve been wet since I called you and told you when to come get me.” You sigh, leaning back in your seat, spreading your legs. “Thought about you… fuckin’ me in your pool… want it so bad, Steve.”

He’s about to swerve off the road, cock straining against his jeans. “Yeah?” he says again, so stupidly, but his brain’s making its way down to his dick.

Your head rolls to the side to stare at him. “You’re so hot.”

Steve laughs at the abruptness, at the change of pace. “You really think so?”

“Mhm.” You reach for him, tracing you finger along the bridge of his nose and down to his lips. You trace them, too, before running the pad of your finger down his throat. You connect the moles dotting his neck, humming to yourself.

Steve’s about to call you handsy, but then your hand falls to his cock, palming it through his jeans.

“Honey.” His voice is rough, strained.

“Stevie.” You’re smirking. “Don’t y’want me? I’m so wet for you, baby. Missed you all day.”

Steve takes a deep breath. Tries to focus. But your hand applies such perfect pressure to his cock, and you’re staring at him, so pretty in the dim light of his car, the radio illuminating your face. He sighs, then reroutes, heading towards one of his favorite make-out spots.

You giggle, gleeful.

[astronicht]

23 or 24 for rosquez 🙏🙏

24. whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin

I wrote a kind of soft one for the thigh-grabbing prompt and this is uh not like that. keeping the universe in balance! sorry in advance i guess. Kind of a companion piece, actually, to this earlier rosquez prompt snippet.

Valentino shakes awake from a dream in which someone is dead. The point at which there is a jolt into wakefulness is unclear. 

Daylight is too bright across the bed, and he can smell his own sweat. He reaches for Marc, but he isn’t used to Marc being here and goes for the wrong side of the bed. Valentino’s hand knocks over a glass of water, and a carton of pills on the side table. They skid onto the tile.

Marc isn’t in bed, exactly. He’s sitting on it, legs crossed, staring down at Valentino from the other side. One hand is braced on the mattress, taking a lot of his weight. He likes to put his weight on his bad arm, over and over. Valentino has seen him do it even when he thinks he is alone.

His good arm is holding a little espresso cup from the ranch kitchen. He is noticing Valentino’s mad scramble, but a little too slowly. His face is blank and far away.

Sometimes Marc goes very distant. It would be better if it were personal, but Valentino thinks it isn’t. He thinks the only person Marc can bear to stay present with, always, is his brother. For Valentino, this is much worse than if he simply couldn’t do it with anyone at all. It feels like penance.

“Vale?” Marc asks, that awful blankness creasing into a frown. The sharp nausea of the dream recedes, though someone is still dead.

Valentino rolls onto his elbows and stomach and rests his forehead on the mattress. He breathes, awful and shaky, but it’s better to get the bad breaths out until he’s running clean again.

“Vale?” Marc says again. His voice is less flat; he’s almost present, now. The smell of the espresso is overpowering.

“Marc,” Valentino says. His voice sounds like shit. His arms and thighs are a little tired, from fucking. “Did you figure out the espresso machine?”

“No,” Marc says slowly. The bed shifts. “No one will touch it. Bezzecchi made me a Turkish coffee.”

He’s lying. Marco doesn’t know how to make Turkish coffee, and if he did he wouldn’t be making one for Marc. It will have been Pecco. Vale is a little surprised. This means Pecco both arrived on time for morning practice and made Marc a coffee.

No one can actually work the espresso machine except for Vale, and previously, Uccio. There is no point mentioning this because Valentino does not say Uccio’s name to Marc.

The shaking is stopping. But like payback, the dropping feeling in his chest is getting worse. Valentino blinks his eyes open: bedding below him. It smells like semen. To his right is Marc, shifting, coming closer from wherever his mind was. There is a dripping sound: the glass Valentino knocked over on the nightstand. It is just water, but now it’s mostly on the floor.

He remembers reaching for Marc, because someone was dead. He had not been reaching for comfort. He had needed Marc or needed to be ill. This has not really changed.

“Is the coffee good?”

“Yeah,” Marc says. “Tell Bezzecchi nice job.”

That would be funny.

“Are you done, then?” Valentino asks.

“Sure,” says Marc.

Valentino grabs the back of his t-shirt and yanks backwards. He’s not delicate about it, and Marc instinctively snatches up the bad arm. He falls backwards onto the bed. He also lied about being done with the Turkish coffee; it splatters across Valentino’s chest and the shirt he fell asleep in sometime around six in the morning. It’s cold; Marc hadn’t even been drinking it. The smell is sweet and strong. The espresso cup hits the mattress and then thumps on the floor, trailing cold coffee grounds. You can read those like a palm or tea leaves, Vale has heard.

Valentino rolls onto Marc’s back. Under him, Marc tries to go up on his elbows— tries to lean on the bad one, lean on the bad one. Valentino grunts and doesn’t let him. It’s worth the effort: Marc groans, and says “Yeah, please—.” 

Vale fists a hand in his hair. Coffee grounds are between Vale’s fingers. His heart is going too fast.

They can’t have fucked that long ago, because they fucked at dawn right before Valentino fell asleep. Marc slept, off and on, cat-napping through Valentino’s long night, occasionally blinking like some nocturnal animal, once crying because Valentino made him come and then put Marc’s dick in his mouth and made him come again. 

Vale doesn’t know if it’s been an hour or if it’s been five since he last fucked Marc. Will he be able to get it up? He’d better. He needs to.

He holds Marc down on the bed with one hand at the back of Marc’s neck and with the other fishes around on the floor for the blister pack of pills. He gets one out with a near-steady hand and swallows it dry. Should work in twenty minutes, but Valentino has always burned through things fast, so it will be less.

Marc sees but ignores this. Valentino gets back on top of him and yanks his boxer-briefs down, nothing else. Marc says, “Ah—shit,” and arches his back. 

Valentino leans up and spreads his ass, spits on his hole. He can already feel himself starting to get hard; the pill wasn’t needed after all. Ah, well. Funny story later. His brain says that loudly over the feeling of sex: Funny story later. And, Someone is dead. He was dreaming. Water dripping. Marc on his bed here in Tavullia, first mask-like, now under him, moaning and twisting when Vale bites the back of his neck. 

Valentino wants to pound into him: ball-slapping, basic porn stuff. It is sort of crazy how he cannot stop thinking about it over and over, all night, not missing a moment. Marc was asleep a lot of the time, so Vale just watched him and wanted it, grinding his teeth, enjoying the wait — and waiting to need a break, to need a minute, a coffee, a nap. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, just knows he did sleep because of the nightmare. Marc under the line of his body bucks and says Valentino’s name.

Valentino rests his chin on Marc’s shoulder, and tries not to show that he’s breathless from holding Marc down the way Marc wants. He says into the shell of Marc’s ear, “Where did you go, hm? Have you been wandering around?”

And Marc laughs — a wheeze under Valentino’s body, as heavy as he can make it for Marc — and moans and says, eyes shut, “You were only asleep for twenty minutes.”

[narriose]

Thoughts on Veilguard so far:

Preface: I’m ~50 hours in with a handful of endgame spoilers.

My general values are: Story > Characters > Gameplay > Romance > Rep > Visuals.

My rating of the previous games: DA2 > DAO > DAI

Spoilers under Cut:

What I expected: Having to deal with an unappealing art style and clunky gameplay with leftover multiplayer and live service era elements that they couldn’t get rid of for the sake of the story and characters.

What I got: Well…

Let’s Start with the negatives:

-Dialogue: I want to know what happened there. Ik for a fact they had veteran BioWare writers on the team and it feels like there was a decision to dumb everything down to the point of me immediately having a line in my head that would sound better in universe every time someone spoke. It proved especially grating once I heard Morrigan speak. And when people compare the writing to MCU I cannot really protest. “Dragon Age has always been unserious” yes but like. Not every other line was a joke or relatable™️ millennial awkwardness . When jokes did happen they became memorable moments for the fandom. It’s often very difficult to listen to. Especially when Rook talks. It is getting marginally better though.

-Tone: Dragon Age has been compelling to me because it wrote conflict and trauma and corruption in a way that felt developed enough to feel grounded and believably horrific. Even with all its faults. DATV mellowed out the horrors and seems to gloss over a lot of sociopolitical dynamics and lore. Stuff like portraying crows as vigilantes and not showing the evils of Tevinter slavery. The tone itself just feels like theyre trying to make an easily marketable sanitized IP out of it to cater to a wider audience.

-Character Writing: A lot of characterization has been “Tell not show” because I’m disappointed in Lucanis and Neve. The story says one is a serious killer and the other is a cynic but both have only been friendly soft and positive which is like??? I feel like a lot of their intro has been cut out or something where they establish those traits on screen. Another thing is: there don’t appear to be actually detestable and controversial traits in characters or even internal conflict they need to overcome. They’re just dealing with some kind of external thing thrust onto them and that is very shallow to me personally.

-Intro: I know we’re not getting Origins style personalized intros again but it felt like too much is handwaived into people making their own OCs and forming headcanons when the game doesn’t let us RP much at all outside identity stuff anyway. Like how do we know Varric? Why should any of the pep talks he gives us mean anything when we haven’t experienced anything to warrant the complements he gives us?

-Villains: possibly the worst part of the story: they lit act like theyre in a preschool cartoon down to body language. No nuance no controversy no actual horror to them when in previous games the evil felt so much more pronounced because some of the villains felt human enough to be a shitty person irl.

-Rep: Sigh. Even as a transmasc I might be a little too internally transphobic for the rep in the game. It feels like so many steps ahead of what the story should be handling. Like fix the slavery problem in a meaningful way then start philosophical gender discussions about what a gender binary even is. And it’s very cringe to me when it’s spoken about in game. Like yeah I love that there’s no way to dispute what the characters are but it also feels so entirely uncreative using modern day terminology for this stuff. And I don’t mean “replace it with ambiguous sad baby talk” but something more. Like is it terrible to want that? Even if you were planning on using the word nonbinary, at least tell us what a binary even is and how it was instituted as an idea into this world. Like I do adore Taash, I just wish the gender stuff wasn’t so clumsy.

-Visuals: It’s hard man. As an artist who sees human bodies as proportion reference points, the bodies still look off to me. Like it was worse and I’m getting used to it but it’s still painful. And I’m all for trying to stylize but this particular heroforge direction was not something I would have picked.

-OST: At first I couldn’t tell Zimmer/Balfe’s stuff apart from Morris’s but yeah, the new stuff is more boring(Sans the Rivain part)

-The 3 choice thing: yeah not a fan of that. I feel like perhaps it was a part of the multiplayer era where they would not be able to import much if everyone had a massively different world state so they limited it to the tiny MC choices. Still sad that the romance thing only really matters if you romanced Solas because the Dorian cameo wasn’t anything to write home about. Kinda feels like they added him in last minute because someone pointed out how much Solas-skewed the choices were. Idk. I so expected Josie in Antiva but alas.

Now Onto the Positives:

-Codices: The very way-too modern simplified conversational dialogue style carries over to the codices. And while I despise that as a creative, I do find myself actually reading them as they come because they are so easy to absorb. I feel like a lot of people would benefit from not skipping them because there are some references and plot reveals worth checking out.

-Story: If you deafen the dialogue style, the story itself is top. Gets way better as you play and from the spoilers I’ve heard, yeah. It’s good. Can’t wait to find out more.

-Gameplay: Listen I have a massive preference for DA style combat even if most ppl call it a slog. The turn based element, the pause button, the hoarding skills I never use. It’s like coming home to me. I hated DAI combat for the amount of anxiety it induced and I usually hate fast-paced action combat in most other games. DATV made me eat my boots. Its combat is insanely fun and engaging and often times I’m looking forward to fights more than quests themselves. Very colorful, very flashy, and very effective. The pause button gives less freedom but it’s there. The combos are fun. It is like Mass Effect except I did not find commanding the companions in Mass Effect as intuitive. Tho I wish non mages had less magicey feeling attacks.

-The CC: Yeah it wowed me with the options. I like how much can be done with the facial sliders and how good the hair looks.

-Puzzles: Listen the puzzles are extremely stupid in this game. But I also am very stupid and lazy when it comes to solving them. I have looked up the vast majority of puzzle solutions for DA games. No more DA2 Fade Barrels and no more trying to circumnavigate the ad infested Fandom Wiki to get to the Kitty’s prison solution. Crafted specifically for me.

-Mechanical Things: The game is optimized insanely well. Both when It comes to your PC and the gameplay. I’m amazed how well it runs on my PC when games like BG3 and Cyberpunk make my CPU scream. Love that. As far as gameplay goes: everything is super streamlined and designed to be as un-annoying as possible. No carry weight, no collectibles as annoying and unrewarding as the shards and mosaics. The maps are easy to parse. The game does not bombard you with useless NPCs, banter can’t be interrupted and characters catch up on banter at the Lighthouse if you’ve been avoiding certain party comps by accident. The quest locator is actually helpful. Skill points can be refunded. Looting is easy and finding shit feels rewarding.

-Characters: Honestly they do have some interesting things going on and while most characters feel a little hollow so far, I was pleasantly surprised by Davrin and Bellara. Davrin is the one I’m romancing and while the actual romance isn’t groundbreaking I’m glad I chose him. Yes, his character has a lot to do with Assan and his arc, but he does have stuff going on of his own. He’s very refreshing because some of the things he says low key both makes you think and also worry about him. He’s also not your usual preppy jock type. He can be a little mean sometimes. He’s artistic and principled. He has some remnants of “opinions I don’t agree with” that I love early DA for. When it comes to Bellara, she absolutely breaks the sort of Manic Pixie/Quirky Awkward young coded girl mold. It is the fact that there is self awareness and hints of history of failure and isolation in her words. There is also masking and over-clarification that I can relate to personally. I hope there is stuff like that to other companions when I get to know them better.

Visuals: the UI and Locations are stunning. The outfits the best the game has had so far(tho wish the overall look was less stylized) The blighted stuff(sans the ogres) and the Crossroads. Beautiful.

-Dwarf Lore: started out as fucking cheesy but I just finished meeting Valta and I’m seated.

-Solas Stuff: Hated the man for a while. Caved and made a solavellan to import to get more story stuff. NGL he is actually tolerable/interesting to me in this game.

Overall: A sickly sweet combo of Disappointed and Impressed. And I’m still gonna be playing. I am used to not liking something about every DA game. That’s part of the fun for me. But damn is this one testing me. Am I having a lot of fun playing it? Absolutely. Am I finding it difficult to get through a concerning amount of dialogue…yeah. It does still feel like a DA game but also like if someone made a pg-13 live action of Inquisition and then made a supplementary game based off that. If I forget that it’s supposed to be a sequel and just treat it like an action game with plot then it’s easier. And like I’m sure at least half of what I listed as a negative can be attributed to EA meddling or prev iterations of the game being inseparable. Anyway. Can’t wait to see the ending and I will add more thoughts when I’m done.

[dripdowndrop]

The Bimbo Bounce

There’s an implicit understanding around the idea of a bimbo that it is an easy thing to be. A bimbo doesn’t have to worry about very much, certainly not thinking. They are free to bounce, bubbly, brainless, and spend their energy focusing on the more fun things: sex, for instance.

Bounce.

I respectfully disagree. Thoughts can be very pesky things, and ridding yourself of them isn’t always a simple task. Many bimbos subscribe to the philosophy wherein the process of bimbofication involves having their brains removed, their intelligence compromised, their thoughts turned to bubbles to float away into the ether.

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

Which isn’t to say there’s anything wrong with that, of course. But a bimbo doesn’t necessarily need to be absolutely brainless, nor even to have their intelligence drained at all…and certainly not permanently. Part of the appeal is often in the transient nature of the transformation.

For now, we’ll focus on the brainless sort of bimbo. Perhaps later we can explore the alternatives.

Bimbos bounce their brains away.

After all, there is something to be said for allowing your thoughts to become bubbles, creating that light and airy feeling in your head. It is, I suspect, a little easier to feel like a bimbo when those thought-bubbles begin floating and bouncing around in your head, and especially once they begin to pop.

Brainwashed bimbos must obey.

But what happens when your thought-bubbles are being stubborn, when they don’t behave like the slick and oily bubbles that pop so simply? There are a few options. First, let’s consider another kind of bubble: bubble wrap.

You know what I mean, I’m sure. You’ve felt the enjoyment of popping that plastic packaging to release the air sealed inside. You’ve also found that some bubbles are easier to pop than others – sometimes you can roll the wrap along your fingers and appreciate the sound of so many rhythmic pops, but other times you have to apply some additional pressure before you receive that anticipated reward.

Bubbly brains are bound to burst.

Some of the bubbles can be downright frustrating, I know. The reward for normal bubble wrap is that giggly, somewhat silly, glee; it’s a lot of fun, and downright cathartic. But for your thoughts? The reward is becoming a brainless bimbo, and feeling the combined physical pleasure and mental relief when the thoughts pop and escape, leaving that wet, pink lust behind.

Bursting bubbly brains blow pink.

It’s a very compelling reward, isn’t it? You’d happily apply as much pressure as it takes to pop those thought-bubbles, but perhaps you aren’t quite sure how. There’s a line here about how that might mean you’re already more brainless than you expect, but we’ll skip that for now. Instead, consider the source of the pressure.

Bimbos bounce their brains away,

Brainless bimbos must obey.

Pressure around your thought-bubbles can come from the simple act of bouncing, of course. It can come from my words flowing steadily into your mind, perhaps repeating like an echo that escalates until the pop. In the first case, you’ll simply bounce a little harder; in the second, repeat my words either aloud or in your head to ramp up the pressure. But those aren’t the only methods.

Bubbly brains are bound to burst,

Bursting bubbly brains blow pink.

You see, we can also soften the surface of the thought-bubbles. You want to be a bimbo, after all, or you wouldn’t be here – you certainly wouldn’t have made it this far into a script designed to make you a bimbo. But I expect it’s more than casual want. You find the idea of becoming a brainless obedient bimbo arousing. It turns out that arousal softens bubbles…don’t take my word for it, though, let your focus shift to the intensity of that arousal, and feel the way the resistance inside your thought-bubble changes, as if the pressure is suddenly coming from both sides.

Bimbos bounce their brains away,

Brainwashed bimbos must obey.

Now there are three methods to ramp up the pressure on that stubborn thought-bubble of yours: bounce a bit harder, repeat my words to yourself, and focus on how aroused being bimbofied makes you. The bubble-wrap doesn’t stand a chance, especially when you recall how intensely rewarding that pop is going to be. Raw pink pleasure drenching your suddenly vacant head, freeing you to be the giggly, bouncy, brainless bimbo you want to be.

Bubbly brains are bound to burst,

Bursting bubbly brains blow pink.

Brainwashed bimbos bounce blankly.

Blank brainless bimbos bounce.

As rewarding as the pop will be, wouldn’t it be better to feel that over and over again? Of course it would. There’s a less common method of making bubbles easier to pop that we’ve just unlocked – making a single, large bubble into a bunch of much smaller ones. Even if you’ve already popped the thought-bubble, it’s surprisingly straightforward to imagine any remaining thoughts, brains, or some part of your body covered in bubble wrap.

Bimbos bounce their brains away,

Brainless bimbos must obey.

Bouncing bursts brain-bubbles,

Bursting bubbles blow pink.

Lots of tiny bubbles are much easier to pop, as you know, which means all you’ve got to do is pick your favorite method: bouncing, repeating my words, or feeding your arousal. Then the fun can really begin…you get to bounce, chant the bimbo mantra, or touch yourself, and enjoy the immensely satisfying sensation of all of those pesky thought-bubbles popping in rapid succession.

I’d tell you not to worry about the implications of being bound by bubble wrap, or the inherent silliness of the concept – but we both know you’re already past that, or giggling about it while you obey. So instead, give in to your chosen bubble popping method.

Bounce whichever way you find feels the best, repeat my words again and again, or bring yourself to a bubbly pink bimbo orgasm. Or, perhaps, try every method just to make sure you don’t have any pesky thought-bubbles left by the time you’re finished.

As for the transient – sorry, big word, let’s go with “temporary” – nature of the transformation, I’ll leave that up to you. When you’ve finished popping bubbles for me, you can drift awake with your decidedly un-popped brain functioning normally…or you can “wake” in bimbo mode for awhile, free to be bouncy and bubbly and giggly and horny for a few hours before the effect fully fades.

Bimbos bounce their brains away,

Brainless bimbos must obey.

Bouncing bursts brain-bubbles,

Bursting bubbles blow pink.

Either way, as always, like, reblog and enjoy.

[opiopal]

You guys wanna know a silly silly idea of Luci and mc talking I think abt often? Ofc you do,

(THIS IS A PLATONIC READ!!) (mc uses the word “love” though not in a romantic sense, also GN mc as always, any “she” and “he” used is in relation to luci and Lilith, NOT mc,)

I can’t help but imagine mc struggling with being related to Lilith, they can’t really help it. After belphie had… you know. And the truth came out, it just felt like everyone cared so much more all of a sudden. sure they all cared about mc before, but they feel like being related to her is the only reason they were missed so much..

so here they are, standing Infront of a portrait of her. she seemed so.. familiar. Maybe it was something about her jaw- or maybe her nose? Or the way her eyes seemed to be rested shut in a calm wise smile.. in their chest they know it’s probably because they see themselves in her. Or.. see her in themself. It’s odd to see her with similar features as mc’s own mother/father, sure liliths genes most likely had been watered down over all the years, but a small part of her seemed to still stand out. mc tugs at the bottom of their night shirt. They couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to bother anyone. So they found themself here, staring and wondering. They’ve come here more often as of late, and it’s really not doing well for their self imagine. Would things have been different if they weren’t related to her? Would the brothers have even given a second thought to mc after they left? Even though they know these thoughts are ridiculous, they can’t help but think about it.

eventually the sound of footsteps ring through their ears, a familiar heel clicking as the eldest approaches. They hear his footsteps pause as he notices them, they don’t bother turning their head to address him, secretly hoping he’ll just continue walking. though of course, he doesn’t. his footsteps grow louder and closer until he is standing right next to them, staring at their face for a moment before looking at the portrait as well. and it stays like that for a while, the two just silently standing together and staring at the painting. Eventually mc just can’t bite their tongue, and speaks up a bit involuntarily.

“would you have still loved me if you never knew?”

they bite their bottom lip almost the moment it leaves their mouth, regret and anxiety immediately makes their chest feel heavy and cold. They hardly even have to glance over to see his shocked expression, before it softens slightly.

“what?”

“I-i mean….”

they take a deep breath. Might as well get it over now..

“… would you guys have still cared if I wasn’t related to Lilith?”

they stare at the painting, waiting for him to speak, though the shock from mc asking such a thing is shutting him up. So they continue,

“sometimes.. when you look at me, it feels like you aren’t look at me like I’m.. well me… it feels like you’re looking at someone else. whenever I hear anything about her, it’s always so much good, about how amazing and kind and sweet she was. But I don’t know her. I’ve only ever seen her once and that was when I died. And then everyone including myself learned I was related to her, and it suddenly felt like everyone immediately cared a lot more about me.”

without thinking much of it they just keep talking, part of them wants to shut up but they just can’t.

“I’m my own person, I know I am. I’ve spent my whole life figuring myself out, struggling and fighting to be a good person, going through school, going through my life. But, now it feels like every move I make is being silently compared. I just…”

they finally shut up before they find themselves going around in circles, though they feel a heavy tinge of regret.

“…I’m sorry..”

their voice comes out small and ashamed. finally the eldest is able to regain his words and inhales,

“yes.”

“what?”

“Of course we would still love you Mc, I would still love you. Even before we discovered it, I could tell my brothers began to care deeply about you, and part of myself felt frustrated that I could understand why. you are smart, and determined, and kind, and extremely lovable. And quite frankly, I couldn’t imagine what life would be like if you hadn’t wormed your way into our hearts. i miss my sister, we all miss her. But we accepted her death a long time ago. Though the grief still hangs heavy on us, we know that you aren’t her. That would be cruel to not just us, but you.”

he reaches an arm out, mc stares silently, finally turning their head to look at him as tears start to well up in their eyes. They lunge forwards and wraps their arms around him in a tight hug in which he reciprocates.

“You have nothing to be sorry about Mc, myself on the other hand..”

he inhales,

“I am sorry.”

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for S behind the cut; "from Andromeda to your eye". tw: internalized dehumanization; dehumanizing it/its pronouns. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

It wants to be saved, like it thinks it’s something worth that. It wants to be–it wants–it wants Superboy’s arms around it and Superboy’s lies in its ears and to never, ever have to go back to the Agenda, even though it knows there’s no way it’s really escaped the Agenda. Not for good. Not for real. 

The Agenda made it, and it isn’t something anyone would actually save. No one’s ever saved anything the Agenda made. 

It knows Superboy tried to, though.

But it still never should’ve come here. Never should’ve done this. Never should’ve come to Superboy like–like it really thought–like it really thinks– 

“C’mon, just–come with me, okay?” Superboy says, his voice all tight and twisted up.  It–understands that. Understands that Superboy needs to take it somewhere else. Somewhere with fewer staff around, where it can be secured until either Cadmus decides what to do with it or the Agenda comes and gets it. 

“I’m sorry,” it chokes again. The first thing it ever said was a lie to the security at the door; the first thing it ever really said was an apology to someone it never should’ve gone to. 

That apology’s still the only thing it’s ever really said. 

“It’s–fine,” Superboy says, his voice stiff. “I get it. It’s fine. Just–c’mon.” 

It nods, weak and useless, and Superboy stands up and pulls it up with him, and it tries to stop crying, and he wipes the tears off its face with the heel of his glove and it just cries harder, because why would he even bother to do that, why would he even care to, that’s–that’s– 

He should’ve thrown it out. Should’ve attacked it. Should–should just– 

He’ll lock it up. He’ll take it to a holding cell and lock it up and–and he won’t leave it there for good, it knows, not if . . . not if he can help it, anyway, but . . . 

But maybe he won’t be able to help it. 

It cries some more, and Superboy wipes the tears away from the underneath of its eyes with his thumbs. No one’s ever done that before. It’s never cried before either, but–still. No one’s ever touched its face or hugged it or lied to it over things no one else would ever even care to. 

No one’s ever done a lot of things, because the clone’s only existed for a few days, but those are things it wouldn’t have thought anyone ever would. 

“What do you want me to call you?” Superboy asks as he cups its face with one hand and its shoulder with the other. It sniffles, messy and ugly, and scrubs its own glove across its eyes. Of course he asked that, it thinks. Of course he asked that like that, it thinks. Not what’s your project designation? or what’s your name?; just what do you want?

Of course he asked like that. 

“‘Babe’,” it says, because that’s not what he calls Wonder Girl, and it’s much, much better than the idea of ever hearing its subject number in his voice. 

“Movin’ kinda fast there, babe,” Superboy replies with a crooked little grin, and it almost cries again. It thinks he’s–teasing it, maybe. Making a joke. Because he thinks it’s the kind of thing that could actually laugh or find something funny or . . . 

“Sorry,” it says, scrubbing uselessly at its face. “Sorry, just–not my subject number. Not–not that. Please.” 

“Hey, far be it from me to turn down a pretty girl asking me to call her ‘babe’, you’re not walkin’ that one back on me,” Superboy mock-scoffs, flashing it a wider grin and–and– 

And Superboy sees a girl when he looks at it. He sees a girl, and a “her”, and . . . and something to comfort. Someone to . . . 

He sees a person, when he looks at it. 

It–it knew he would. It knew that. 

But he does. 

She buries her face in her hands and starts bawling, and Superboy just wraps her up in his arms again like he’s not bothered by that at all and grips her tight, making rough little hushing sounds–or maybe rough little soothing sounds–against her hair. 

She still doesn’t know how to stop crying. 

The Agenda never thought she would, so why would they have taught her how to stop?

[supercalime]

A goodbye post I guess?

Hey yall, i wanted to write something about all of this as this may be the last time I talk about this show. Apologies in advance, this will be long and all over the place cause im using this little essay to get it off my chest and help me calm down my anxiety. Strap in, this will be a doozy.

First off, no matter how sad and disappointed we are, let’s please not stoop down to the level of those fans when it comes to voicing our issues with this situation. Please, let’s not harass, call people names, send them threats, etc. we can voice our opinions in an adult way, and although it fucking hurts and it makes us want to shout from the rooftops and call Murphy, Minear and Stark every name in the sun, we need to be grown ups and come out on top of it.

That being said, I want to first acknowledge how fun and cool yall are. We endured A LOT of shit since april and all that bullshit didn’t stop you from keeping the positivity going. I applaud you all for that. It has been hard. I came in contact and became friends with some really nice people here and I wouldn’t change it for the world. I loved being a part of this fandom and it physically hurts me that this feels like it was all for nothing.

Even though I feel like a fool as well, I hate to see how you are all so sad with this. This wasn’t our fault. We were not naive for believing that this storyline could’ve been great. Don’t blame yourself for being taken advantage of. Because that’s what they did. They saw the opportunity to profit from a community and took it. They are the ones in the wrong. They used us for brownie points and then tossed us away like trash the second they got what they wanted. It’s on them.

What I’m about to say now will sound hypocritical as I’m writing this at 2am while trying to cope with an anxiety attack caused by this very show, but what we can take away from this is that unfortunately, we can’t rely on tv shows for happiness. Yes, that’s a bitter pill to swallow, specially in this political climate as we were hoping for some sort of escape from the horrors of the elections. What i took away from this is that I need to (for lack of a better word) touch grass. I need hobbies, I need friends. All things that I’ve been lacking because fandom stuff is easier. I need to find stuff that makes me happy that doesn’t depend on outside factors. But also I want to make sure that if a show is all you have, that’s okay and is even more okay to feel betrayed. I was an absolute mess a few years ago when a show I adored stabbed their fans in the back, but it gets better. You still get angry remembering you were done dirty but I promise that the memories that stick are the positive ones.

I don’t wanna go on a deleting spree but I also don’t want to be reminded of this hurtful moment as the wound is still fresh, so I’m deciding to reevaluate some things offline, like I did with previous fandoms, and come back when I’m ready. I don’t think I’ll leave tumblr or never watch/talk about 911 again but I need some time and space from it so I can feel better. I don’t want to doom scroll through the tags like I did tonight. What Ryan Murphy, Tim Minear and Oliver Stark did to us was awful, but the best thing I can do is not let these three men influence my mental health. I won’t let a tv show ruin me because it’s not my fault. It’s not our fault to believe that there were half decent people in the entertainment industry that cares about the portrayal of queer individuals. They will have to sleep at night with that knowledge and deal with the consequences from the BoBs. And if these guys decide to humor the BoBs that’s their funeral. It would further show they never cared about representation and just wanted to save face after making so many people miserable for simply enjoying a canon ship. I hope they can see the consequences because I’m not even the target here. I’m hurt for all the queer men that saw themselves in buck and tommy, that even messaged the actors thanking them for their honest portrayal.

In conclusion, here’s my goodbye (for now).

Thank you so much bucktommy nation!

Yall are the best,

Love, Lety 🖤

[thealogie]

Gotta preface it with ‘I’m not from the US, so obviously don’t understand lots about how election results affect everyday life of people living there’. Also, if I suddenly, still being myself, became a US citizen with a right to vote, I can’t imagine voting for Trump. Saying all that, I don’t think labelling half of the country, tens of millions of people, genuinely evil is very productive or even mentally honest.

I am from the part of the world, which suffered from both republican and democrat US administrations, and lately most of the geopolitical games resulting in tons of blood, have been played, obviously, by democrats. I have to say that I find their utter hypocrisy deeply disgusting. At least your republicans, how I see it, don’t even mask being monsters, they say it like it is. When two negotiating sides state their goals outright, it is possible to come to an agreement at least marginally better than when one side is always being two(3,4,5)-faced, making a point to wrap their actual goals (if they even know them) in pretty words about democracy while double-crossing their negotiation partner even before the ink has dried.

I know that you’re from Iran and are aware of how deeply destructive US foreign policies can be, increasingly so since the start of this century. With one caveat that Trump seems to be especially hostile to Iran, and a democrat would’ve been marginally better when it comes to the US policy regarding Iran. It’s not the same for all parts of the world though, so we might not all be unbiased observers here.

I know that foreign policy doesn’t decide US elections, I only wrote this longwinded nonsense to say that maybe there are solid reasons for half of the US to prefer Trump and reject the democrats, like for the rest of the world there are reasons for either. Economic, political, whatever. Maybe liberals should look into these reasons before dismissing millions of people as genuinely evil, like Hillary did in her time. Idk about you, but when she called half of the country ‘deplorables’ or whatever, no one I know and no one I read (not from US) felt sympathetic. It just sounded incredibly entitled and delusional, and plain dumb. And it looks like since Hillary democrats haven’t learned or even attempted to learn anything, it’s still ‘half of our nation is broken and evil and we can’t do anything about it’. But it’s not how people work, in my opinion. Yes, they might not care about minorities first, they might care about themselves first, but doesn’t it mean that politicians should identify their problems and offer solutions? Isn’t it how it works? Dehumanazing Trump supporters will only radicalize them more, isn’t it what in fact happened, and how it always works with people in general?

Idk about life inside the US, like I said, but how I see it, the only ones to blame here are democrats and liberals in general. If people in the world, and I’m sure inside the US, will see that they finally start addressing the problems instead of hiding behind empty rhetoric, if the level of hypocrisy and delusional entitlement decreases at least to some degree, the support for right-wing populists will also decrease, I’m sure of it. Because most people are not ‘genuinely evil’, but they become embittered and cruel when their concerns are continuously dismissed, things start to fester resulting in ugly political outcomes. I mean, I know you know all this, sorry for being so boring and longwinded. It’s just that I usually like your takes (I came for MASH and stayed for the neighbors as well), including political ones, but here I got a bit of a whiplash, sorry.

I appreciate this thoughtful note. You don’t have to like my takes for us to be on friendly terms. And to be clear I do forever and always blame democrats and liberals for not energizing the people who agree with them.

But as you say you don’t live here and so there’s no way for me to convey to you without asking you to spend months reading right wing political accounts here and talking to people here that a sizable number of the people who support this man are genuinely bad people and want me and people like me out of this country.

This comes from hundreds of personal encounters over the past 8 years and spending the past three months reading dozens and dozens of pieces of reporting that are like “I went to talk to voters in a small town, here’s what they had to say.” And the things you hear are: purge this country of immigrants, make America a dominating force in the world again, get us back to traditional values where women are popping out babies…oh yeah and also the economy would be better under him.

Like idk what you want me to call sexist, homophobic, white supremacists but I think they are evil. And I think it used to be that the Republican Party was more polite about all of these beliefs so I could understand people being disaffected and voting for them for reasons other than hating other humans but now we’re just saying the quiet part out loud and there’s no plausible deniability

[gothamite-rambler]

The awesomeness of Nickleback

Wally West sped through the streets of Paris, his heart racing with excitement as he made his way to a quaint café where Zatanna Zatara enjoyed a leisurely cup of tea. The aroma of freshly brewed beverages filled the air, and the vibrant atmosphere of the city buzzed around them.

He skidded to a halt in front of Zatanna, his breath slightly labored but his enthusiasm undeterred.

Zatanna (looking up, unfazed by his sudden appearance): Sup?

Wally (rushing through his words): Can you magically teleport my best buddy and life partner here?

Zatanna (curious, tilting her head): What for?

Wally practically bounced on his feet, his excitement palpable.

Wally: There’s a concert for Nickelback in Bludhaven! He doesn’t like Nickelback, but I love the band, and I will not have him avoid this again!

Zatanna chuckled, leaning back in her chair, clearly entertained.

Zatanna: Good enough answer for me.

Wally (in disbelief): Wait… no questions about why I’m meeting you at a café in France to ask this?

Zatanna (smirking, playful): Tsk, I’m used to a lot of things. This isn’t even odd to me.

Without further talking , she pulled out her wand, her fingers dancing over it with magical elegance. With a flick and an incantation softly spoken, a burst of light erupted. Suddenly, Dick Grayson, bewildered, dropped from the sky, landing perfectly in Wally's outstretched arms.

Dick (surprised, exasperated): I said I would think about going!

Wally tightened his grip on his friend, excitement bubbling over.

Wally (grinning): We can’t miss this concert! You have to go!

Dick glared at him, incredulity in his voice.

Dick: I don't wanna!

Wally (whining): It's Nickleback!

Dick (irate): Yes, it's Nickleback!

Wally: See you're coming around.

Dick: Let me break this down for you. You put on your costume, went to Zatanna, and kidnapped me for a concert! You have to understand how bad that sounds!

Wally beamed, undeterred.

Wally: I will show you the awesomeness of Nickelback!

Zatanna (chiming in, sipping her tea): Some of their music is pretty catchy, Dick.

Dick (frustrated): Not helping!

Zatanna lifted her cup to her lips again, a slight smirk on her face.

Zatanna: Wasn’t intending to! Do this for your boyfriend!

Dick (blushing, protesting): Stop saying that! You're just mad I won't sleep with you anymore!

Zatanna (finishing a long sip from her tea cup): Maybe!

Dick: I don't like the band; let me go home!

Wally (pleading): Come on, please! It’s not like you were doing anything important.

Dick (defensively, crossing his arms): I was at work!

Wally (dismissively): You can get another job. Let’s go!

Wally declared, taking off at full speed with Dick still in his embrace. Dick didn’t protest further, though annoyance was etched across his features.

As they sped away, Zatanna took another sip of her tea, humming the tune of “Photograph.” She smiled to herself, reveling in the unexpected antics of her friends.