#i love you milky planet ;_;

[teddydeer]

been feeling nostalgic and thinking about the scene to egl pipeline so i redesigned one of the oc’s i made in my scene phase (´• ω •`) her name was simi but im thinking of changing it!

[pdiddy87]

1. Your hand in mine is my balanced reality

2. Webs of emotion

[lovebugism]

soooo eddie hears or reads somewhere that birthmarks are where your lover from a past life used to kiss you

and as soon as he gets home he wants to make sure that in this present life r still feel this love and that the birthmarks remain the same until their next life together (ugh so cute 🥺)

i changed this up a wee bit but i hope u like it!! — you and eddie kiss birthmarks on the other for the next life (established relationship, fluff, 0.7k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Eddie traces shapes on your bare back, a post-sex ritual of sorts. It starts out innocent, usually — tiny hearts and flowers and planets that you try hard to guess. It almost always ends with him signing penises onto your spine and laughing out loud every time you realize.

He’s doing it mindlessly now. Touching you just to touch you. His finger trails up your back, circles over your shoulder blades, and then falls back down again. “Did you know you have a birthmark here?” he wonders, breaking the honeyed silence of his tiny bedroom.

Your brows furrow as he traces some sort of outline between your shoulder and spine. “Do I?” you murmur, muffled into the pillow.

“I think so. It’s really faint.”

“Maybe it’s just dirt,” you joke quietly. You don’t see Eddie pull his hand away to lick his finger, but you feel the wet touch of it when it swipes over your back. “Ew, Eddie!” you shout.

“It’s not dirt,” he confirms, choking back a laugh.

“I’ve ever noticed it, I guess. I don’t think I’ve ever looked that hard back there. Like, ever.”

Eddie scoffs, almost in disbelief. “That’s a shame…” he murmurs. 

His finger is gentle and featherlight as it trails down your bare back, leaving chill bumps in its wake. His hand dips below the sheets covering the bottom half of you. His palm spreads unabashedly over your ass, wide and warm. 

“…’Cause there’s a real nice view back here.”

You lift a heavy hand to swat at the boy beside you. It collides halfheartedly with his shoulder. He laughs again. “What?! I’m talking about the birthmark, babe! It’s cute— I love noticing new things about you.”

“Don’t people say that’s how you died in a past life? Wherever your birthmark is?”

Your tired eyes open to find Eddie’s screwed-up face. “Does that mean someone stabbed me in the ass? In, like, the middle ages or some shit? ‘Cause that’s a fucking gnarly way to go.”

“Better than being stabbed in the back… Literally.”

Eddie settles next to you with a huff. He lays on his stomach and shoves half his face into the pillow next to yours, all but melting into the mattress. He keeps tracing the mark on your back with an absentminded touch, never anything but gentle with you.

“Wanna know what I heard?” he mumbles.

“Hm?”

“I heard that birthmarks are where your lover used to kiss you— you know, in a past life or whatever,” he confesses, like it’s a deeply held secret. Then he shrugs his milky white shoulders. “That’s what my mom used to say, anyway. And that woman was never wrong.”

You smile quietly to yourself. Eddie doesn’t talk about his mom very often. You feel a special privilege to be hearing about her now.

“I believe it,” you hum.

His contented grin blooms into something wider and more boyish. “That means someone might’ve been kissing my ass in a past life.”

“That’s awful,” you grumble with a scrunched nose. “Now, I have to give you a new one.”

“Choose wisely, princess,” Eddie lilts and turns onto his back. He spreads his arms out wide and beams when you lean over him. “My future depends on it.”

You don’t think very long. Maybe a moment or more. You press your lips to his chest, just below the faded tattoo on his pec and right over his beating heart. You smile when you pull away, all giddy like a teenage girl, and lay back down again.

Eddie’s chest sparkles with so much adoration it hurts. He laughs it off anyway. “Alright, cheeseball— It’s my turn.”

“You have to do it in the same place!” you argue in a tiny voice when the boy lays over you. He props his weight on his elbows and entwines his legs with yours. The heavy closeness feels like heaven.

“Why?”

“So we’ll have matching birthmarks! And then, when we’re in the next life or whatever, and we look like totally different people, we’ll know we loved each other.”

Eddie scoffs. “I’ll know.”

“How?”

“How will I know that I loved you?” he repeats, like the answer’s obvious and far too silly to ponder. You nod, and he shrugs. “‘Cause I have to. I can’t help it.”

Something warm blooms behind your ribcage. “And I’m the cheesy one?” you tease with a big, girlish grin.

“It’s your fault. You bring the worst outta me, honey.”

You laugh when he drops his head to your chest, pressing a kiss over your heart and lingering there. You pray it stains forever.

[0cta9on]

Unlikely Duet - 7

length: +7k words

Genre: Fluff

NewJeans Minji x Male Reader (OC)

(Author's Note: Finally, after almost 3 months of writing on and off, rereading and rewriting entire portions, and countless edits, I finally finished chapter 7 of UD :,] I'll get started on chapter 8 asap so it hopefully doesn't take as long. Enjoy!)

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

Yuno’s POV

I inhale deeply, letting the grassy aroma and fresh evening air fill my lungs. The full moon looks down at us with its gentle gaze, reflecting its light on our intimate moment. Street lights flicker in the town below us, mimicking the stars hanging in the indigo above. Minji shivers next to me as a cool breeze whistles by, and I instinctively wrap my arm around her for warmth. Her cheeks light up with a pretty pink hue that lingers in my vision longer than it should have.

“It’s really pretty tonight,” she comments, glancing up at the moon. I nod, but all my focus is on the girl next to me, more beautiful than any celestial body could hope to be. The wind makes her long, black hair float and ebb like a stream of the finest silk, while the Milky Way traps itself into her irises, containing the beauty of an entire galaxy in just her eyes alone. Being here with her, nothing to interrupt our moment. Everything feels perfect.

“Minji, I…” As if she can read my mind, she turns to me, a knowing smile on her face, and shuts her eyes, awaiting my next move. With a quivering breath, I slowly lean into her, the warmth emitting from her skin growing ever warmer. The last thing I see is her lips before my vision fades to black, and then nothing.

I open my eyes to find Minji gone, replaced by my ceiling fan. My body jolts upwards in confusion as I grasp at the bed sheets beneath me. Instead of the grassy hill overlooking the town, all I see is the familiar layout of my bedroom, taunting me with its stillness. A disappointed sigh leaves my lips - just a dream.

My phone sits on my bed, still open on Minji’s blank messages. How pathetic of me. I spent all night wracking my brain for a response and couldn’t find a single thing to say. I hover tentatively over the keyboard one last time, desperately searching for the right words to say, before eventually giving up and sending a text to the group chat instead.

Yuno: Good Morning.

To my surprise, Yujin and Winter respond rather quickly.

Yujin: GOOD MORNING!!!!

Winter: good morning :)

Yuno: What are you two up to?

Winter: working :/

Yujin: im taking care of my grandma today!!

With the two of them busy, I’m left to figure out how to spend my Sunday alone. I click over to Minji’s blank messages one last time, my heart palpitating with an uncommon anxiety. Whatever this feeling is, love or otherwise, it’s getting old quickly. Everything feels confusing, and unlike most of my problems, I can’t solve it with brute force alone. What am I even hoping for here? A relationship? I don’t know anything about relationships or dating or how to be a boyfriend. Minji’s boyfriend, huh? That sounds kinda nice-

No. We’re too different. I don’t exactly have any good points to me either. I mean, Minji is like… a shining star - beautiful and radiant, but unattainable. And I’m like a sad cockroach looking up at that star, put on this planet because someone up there decided to play a sick joke. We’re just friends and that’s okay. Yet, the dull pain in my chest tells me otherwise. With a heavy sigh and a couple thousand unanswered questions, I shoot her a simple “Good Morning” text, because that’s what friends say to each other.

The sizzling of melting butter on a griddle and the heavenly scent of warm maple syrup grows stronger as I descend the staircase toward the kitchen, my tastebuds salivating at the thought of my favorite food - pancakes. My dad is in the kitchen, hunched over a cookbook with a surgeon-like focus, as a stack of warm pancakes sits next to him with two more cooking on the stovetop.

“Good morning, Yuno,” he greets me with a wide smile. “Cooked up breakfast if you’re hungry. Help yourself.”

I quickly take a seat at the table and stack a couple of them onto my plate, my stomach grumbling with a vicious hunger. As I go in to take the first bite, the scent of pancake wafts through my nose, taking me back to the first morning I woke up in Minji’s house. Despite us being strangers at that point, she let me crash on her couch so I didn’t have to run home in the rain, offered me warm clothes to sleep in, and made waffles for me the morning after so I didn’t go to school hungry. She didn’t have to, but she did, and it made all the difference in my measly little life. Minji is just so… incredible. And beautiful. And intelligent and kind and sweet and-

“Uh, are you alright?” I hear my dad ask. “You’ve been staring at your pancakes for a while now.”

I shake my head, clearing my thoughts. “I-I’m fine.” That's a lie. I’m not fine. A girl, THE girl, is taking over my mind and my dreams, making my heart feel weird and my mouth feel dry. I like a girl that can’t possibly like me back and I’m just supposed to be fine with that. How do I even begin to explain this to anyone?

My dad sits across from me at the table and fills up his plate. The silence between us begins to grow as we eat, an air of unease and uncertainty filling the room. On top of my feelings for Minji, I now have to deal with my feelings regarding the state of my dad. It’s been years since I last saw him like this. He’s fine now, but what if he relapses? How did he even make such an abrupt change anyway when all I saw him doing was sleeping and drinking? I should be happy, but I can’t shake the feeling that he could just revert to his older self without warning. I can’t cling to hope for too long, otherwise I’ll be met with disappointment yet again.

“So, uh, I was thinking,” he says, nervously clearing his throat. “Would you wanna go to the mall later?”

I freeze like a deer in headlights, caught off guard by his sudden question. “The mall? Why?”

“You don’t have to go if you don’t wanna, I just thought…” He sighs heavily, dropping his expression to the floor. “I want to be your dad again, like old times, before your mother… left us. If you don’t want anything to do with me, I understand, but if it’s okay with you… I want a relationship with my son again.”

He looks into my eyes with a sincere expression, tears threatening to pour. A part of me wants to say no, to make up some lame excuse and wander the streets until it’s dark instead of spending any time with him. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am harboring some resentment for him for leaving me, a child, alone all these years, left to watch my one remaining parent shatter into a million pieces every day until he’s nothing but dust. Maybe I got so used to being alone that the thought of relying on someone else again makes me uncomfortable. Maybe I get into these stupid fights and aimlessly walk around the neighborhood because I know that the only person waiting for me at home is constantly drunk and sleeping.

Despite that, I don’t say no. I nod my head and utter, “Okay,” because the other part of me wants to have my dad back regardless of what he did. I want to be able to come home after school, into a home with the lights on, where the air doesn’t constantly smell like alcohol, and have someone, anyone, ask how my day went. I want someone to rely on when life gets too difficult to handle by myself. I want my family again.

So we eat our breakfast in silence. The uncertainty lingers, but next to it is a warming sense of hope, holding its hand in reassurance.

______________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

Knock, knock, knock

“Minji?”

Knock, knock, knock

“Honey, are you awake?”

I finally sit up, rubbing the drowsiness from my eyes. “Now I am,” I yawn, stretching out my limbs. The clock reads 7:12 AM, about an hour after I usually wake up on the weekends. My phone lay face up on my bed, still on Yuno’s empty messages. Like an idiot, I waited all night for a response from him, but all I got was an hour less of sleep. Maybe I shouldn’t have held my breath for him.

My mother swings my bedroom door wide open. “Oh good, you’re awake,” she says, pacing around my room and picking up some of my laundry off the ground. “Go eat breakfast and get washed up. We’re going to the mall in a bit.”

“The mall? Why?” I ask.

“Oh, y’know… Just some clothes shopping,” she says with a peculiar smile. “We need to update that closet of yours, dear.”

Too drowsy to argue, I get out of bed and head downstairs, where my father is taking a call in the kitchen. Wisps of steam float from the mug of black coffee sitting on the counter next to him, untouched as he presses his phone to his ear with an intense focus. He mouths “Good morning” to me, gesturing to a plate holding a fancy-looking omelet. I dig in, unintentionally eavesdropping on my father’s conversation.

“Mhm. Tuesday you said? No, it’s not a problem at all. Yes, she will be there, I’ll make sure of it. Yeah. Mhm. No problem. We’ll see you then.”

Finally, he hangs up the phone and sits next to me at the dining table. Wrinkles of exhaustion decorate his face, likely from working early in the morning.

“Did you sleep okay, Minji?” He asks. “You’re usually up earlier than this.”

“I slept fine. I thought I’d get some more studying done after I got home and forgot about the time,” I lie. I can’t even imagine how furious he would be if I told him that I stayed up all night waiting for a text from a boy.

He grins proudly at me. “I’m happy that you’re working hard on your studies, but good sleeping habits will keep our brain healthy.” His phone buzzes in his pocket. “I’ll be right back, I have to take this.” He leaves the room, leaving me alone in the kitchen with my omelet and my thoughts. Maybe Yuno isn’t going to text me. Maybe I should text him first instead. But shouldn’t the guy text first…?

A sigh leaves my lips. I'm way in over my head with prom preparations already, I definitely don’t have any room for a silly little crush. Perhaps these feelings are just one of circumstance. We’ve been bumping into each other everywhere, so these feelings will fade if I just avoid Yuno for a bit. Sounds easy enough, right?

______________________________________________________________

The mall is always busiest on the weekends, full of families and friends looking for new deals while carrying around soft pretzels or pointing out attractive people who pass by. This mall, however, is a bit different from most, reserving its entire top floor for high-end designer shops. There isn’t any sort of membership or secret password that prohibits people from entering the top floor, but it generally stays barren aside from the few wealthy shoppers who can afford to do more than just window shop, including my family. The blatantly obvious segregation between social classes is disgusting, but I would be lying if I said I don’t like being able to shop without stumbling through the thick crowds on the lower levels.

“What do you think about this one, dear?” My mother pulls a black dress off the hanger, presenting its fine, intricate detailing to me. Shimmering black beads are sewn into the fabric, probably taking countless hours to place by hand.

“It’s very pretty,” I comment plainly. By all means, it’s a beautiful dress, but I much prefer something more comfortable.

“Why don’t you go try it on, dear,” she says, handing me the dress. I glance at the price tag, causing my eyes to go wide in shock at the $120,000 price point. 

“$120,000? Isn’t that a bit much for a dress?” I ask, concern painting my face.

“Nonsense, Minji. Don’t you want to look good for the party?”

My brow furrows. “Party? What party?” My mother’s gaze wanders, avoiding me completely.

“Well, there’s no party in particular, but you never know what will come up. Just try on the dress please.” She pushes me into the dressing room before I can ask another question.

Right as I close the door behind me, I feel my phone buzz in my purse. My heart skips a beat from the words on the screen - 1 new message from Yuno.

“AH!” I exclaim, nearly dropping my phone.

“Are you okay in there, ma’am?” A worker asks from the other side of the door. I can feel my cheeks heat up from embarrassment.

“I-it’s nothing! Just a, uh, a spider! But it’s okay! Ehe…” I silently cringe at myself as I hear the worker’s footsteps walking away. I just know Hanni would be laughing her butt off at me getting this excited over a text from Yuno.

With a trembling hand, I open up his text, which simply reads “Good morning.” It’s a short and simple message, yet I bite my lip, actively stifling a delighted squeal. An overwhelming sense of giddiness washes over me from those two words on the screen, my mind racing as  I try to think of a response.

Should I ask him how he slept? Maybe that’s a bit too intimate… Oh, what if he had a weird dream? That’s an interesting topic of conversation, right? No, that might be too weird… Maybe I should ask the girls for help. But they might just laugh at me. Oh god, what do I do?

Right as my thumb hovers over the keyboard to type up a response, I freeze. This isn’t what I’m supposed to be doing. Yuno and I are just friends, and that’s all we can ever be. I’m just far too busy for any kind of serious relationship, and my parents clearly don’t approve of him either. Even so, a small voice in the back of my head tells me to go for it, that it’ll work out if I try hard enough. Anything can be achieved through hard work, right? That’s what my parents always told me. A heavy sigh escapes my lips as my heart and mind devolve into war with no clear victor. I don’t even know for sure if he feels the same, yet here I am, getting all excited over his words on a screen.

A knock at the door snaps me out of my rambling thoughts. “Honey, are you okay in there? You’ve been in there a long time, I only gave you one dress to try,” I hear my mom ask.

“S-sorry!” I quickly toss my phone back into my purse and grab the dress off the hanger. Maybe I just need some time to think about it.

______________________________________________________________

“Thank you for shopping with us, Ms. Kim! Have a wonderful day!” The worker exclaims as we leave the store with a plethora of shopping bags and a long receipt to match. My mother takes a single bag, leaving me to carry the rest. My family definitely has the means to live a “comfortable” life, but even exorbitant purchases like these are uncharacteristic of them.

“Why... huff... do I... grunt… need all these clothes?” I ask, struggling to carry everything. “Isn't this... huff… a bit much just to update my closet?"

“Think of it as a gift from your mother, dear,” she replies, not looking in my direction. “I barely get to see you because your father and I are always working. Don’t you want to spend time with your mother?”

“I guess so…” But not like this, I think to myself. As we descend the escalator to the lower levels, the frequency of people increases, making it nearly impossible to take two steps without accidentally hitting someone with the bags. My cheeks burn with embarrassment as I offer an apologetic look to everyone who passes by.

Amidst the chaos, I trip over my foot, inadvertently sending shopping bags and expensive dresses flying everywhere. My mother continues on without even so much as a glance backward, leaving me to pick up the remnants of her wealth as passersby give me weird looks or downright ignore me. As if things couldn’t get any worse, a man snatches my purse off the ground and dashes toward the mall exit.

“H-hey! Give that back!” Of course, my words fall on deaf ears as the thief gets farther and farther. No one moves to stop him, too scared or confused to intervene. My phone, my wallet, the little knick knacks my friends have given me over the years, all of it is gone…

Out of nowhere, a person tackles the thief to the ground, wrestling my purse from his hands. The scuffle ends with the heroic stranger standing over the thief’s now unconscious body, a crowd surrounding and applauding his efforts. An overwhelming sense of gratitude fills me, and without thinking, I run over to my savior and capture him in a big hug,

“Oh my god, thank you so much for getting my purse back, I don’t know how I can-” Panic replaces gratitude as I look up at him for the first time. 

“Y-Yuno?!”

______________________________________________________________

Yuno’s POV

I glare at the black screen of my phone, taunting me by reflecting my own ridiculous emotions. My body is restless, itching for any sign of life, a vibration, a notification, just anything to quench my frustrations. And then it happens: the screen lights up with life. Frantic, I grab the phone, bringing it up to my eyes to read the notification.

Yujin: Heeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyy guyyyyyysssssss. I made kimbap for my grandma, what do yall think?

A photo of Yujin is attached to the text, depicting a clumsily put-together plate of what I assume to be kimbap. Out of the billion notifications I’ve received in the past hour, all of them have been from Yujin, and zero have been from Minji. My head drops in disappointment. Despite my own warnings, I can’t stop thinking about her. She plagues my mind with her pretty eyes and cute face and gentle voice and-

“You alright, Yuno?” My dad sits across from me at the table, his brow furrowed in concern mid-chew. “You haven’t touched your burger at all.”

I shake my head, gathering my bearings. ’50s rock music blasts from the speakers above, fitting the atmosphere of the 50s-themed diner we are in. With no plan in mind, my dad suggested that we get some lunch first, although his words fell on deaf ears since I was too preoccupied staring at my phone.

“It’s nothing,” I utter, avoiding his eyes. He sighs heavily, his expression darkening.

“Look, I… I understand if you don’t trust me completely, a-and I will work harder to earn your trust, but I don’t want you to suffer in silence,” he explains. “If something is going on, I want you to know that you can come to me for anything, no matter how big or small. I don’t have the answers to everything, but I’m here to listen if you need me.”

My lips part to speak, yet no words come out, hiding away in my throat, too scared to show themselves. I choke them down, guilt arising within me due to my silence. What am I supposed to say? “Hey Dad, you are right, I feel weird seeing you like this after so long and so suddenly, but also my life in general has just become so weird. In less than a week, I slept over at the student council’s president house, got two friends, beat two people in a fight, went to the fair for the first time, and I also really like the student council president. Maybe even love her, I don’t know.” This whole thing is ridiculous. I am ridiculous.

“I’m fine, really,” I assure him, and myself partially.

He looks at me, unconvinced, but doesn’t pry any further. “Alright, just… I want you to know.”

God, this sucks. I can’t even eat a meal with my own dad in peace because of my inability to function like a regular human being. Part of me wishes I could just pretend like everything is alright, but since when have I ever felt alright?

“What about you?” The words eject from my mouth without thought. Call it curiosity or not wanting to eat in awkward silence for the second time today, either way, the question is out there now.

“What about me?” My dad asks, rightfully confused.

“I mean…” Fuck, why is it so hard to talk? “You… You’re up and alive, I guess. What changed?”

He places his burger down and looks up with a thoughtful expression. “I, uh, went out for another drink one night and ran into an old friend from college. We just talked for a while, maybe even all night, just catching up like no time had passed. Y’know, he introduced me and your mom way back when. Seeing him reminded me of my old college days, living like I was on top of the world, and… I just knew something had to change.”

“That’s… great. Really.” And I mean it. A smile grows on his face at my sincerity.

“Yeah, it really is. He basically saved my life. I hope you’re able to find good friends like that, Yuno.”

My phone buzzes with a new message from the group chat.

Winter: that looks really great yujin :D

Yujin: hehe thanks !!!

A small grin grows on my face. Maybe I already have. If only I could get a text from one other friend…

______________________________________________________________

We walk into a clothing store full of people my age dressed much more stylishly than I am. I didn’t particularly need to update my closet, but the potential guilt of declining my dad’s offer to buy me clothes was too overwhelming. Besides, what else are you supposed to do at a mall other than spend exorbitant amounts of money on material things?

“Go look around. Let me buy you something nice for once,” he quips. His mood seems to have significantly brightened after our talk at the diner.

Looking through all the racks made me realize just how out of my element I am. Outside of my school uniform, most of my clothes are just sweats and hoodies - comfortable and don’t draw too much attention. Everything (and practically everyone) in here is basically a giant billboard that says “Hey, look at me!!!”

Then, something catches my eye: a forest green crewneck sweater with a bear wearing overalls screen printed on the front. I try to move on, but the beady lifeless eyes of the bear stare into my soul, demanding that I take it home. It’s ridiculous, It’s childish, it’s…

“I want it,” I blurt out.

“Really? This?” Dad chuckles, examining the sweater. “Didn’t think you would be interested in this kind of thing, but hey, what do I know about fashion?”

I cough awkwardly, my face growing warm. I didn’t know anything about fashion either. Hell, if I didn’t have the reputation I have, I would probably be a prime target for bullies if I wore that around. Out of everything in the store, why did I want that sweater? Who in their right mind would even like this sweater?

Minji. Minji would. Half of her bed is covered in teddy bears. I want that sweater because, for some stupid reason, I think it’ll magically make her like me. Or something. I don’t know. She hasn’t even texted me back yet, what good is a sweater with a bear on it gonna do?

Before I could protest, my dad hands me the sweater in a plastic bag, already paid for. “You wanna stop by a couple more stores?” he asks.

“Sure,” I concede, still feeling embarrassed. A part of me feels oddly glad that I took it, imagining Minji’s reaction to seeing the sweater. “Wow Yuno, your sweater is so cute, we should go out sometime!” Yeah right. Still, I can’t stop the small grin dancing on my lips.

“H-hey! Give that back!”

A familiar voice rings from the center of the mall. I glance upwards to see a man barging through the crowd, clutching onto a purse that definitely isn’t his. Without thinking, I spring into action, dashing towards him as fast as I can.

“Yuno!” My dad calls out from behind me, but his words are left unheard as I continue my pursuit. Right before the man reaches the exit, I jump onto a bench and dive at him, tackling him to the ground.

“What the fuck man, get off of me!” The thief yells. He lands a punch to the side of my head as I try to wrestle the purse from him. While it isn’t the hardest blow I’ve received, it’s enough to piss me off. I grab his throat, digging my fingers into his windpipe, nearly crushing it in my grip. He squirms underneath, the desperation welling in his eyes as he fights for breath. I reel back my fist and let it fly, aiming to crack his skull against the ground.

As my fist gets closer and closer to his head, time crawls to a standstill. Minji’s voice echoes in my head: “You’re a good person, Yuno. I just wish you would stop getting into trouble.” I mean, he deserves it, he’s a thief. He steals some poor girl’s purse, he deserves a good beating. And yet, I pull back at the last moment, knocking him out instead of outright shattering his jaw. While none of his bones are broken, he’ll surely be feeling that once he comes to.

The sound of scattered applause around me pulls me from my adrenaline-fueled haze. It’s only now that I realize people are recording me like a zoo animal, upholding me like I’m some kind of “hero” or something. In reality, I just did what they were too scared to do, but they’re too busy creating their own hyperbolic narratives to see that.

Suddenly, a pair of arms wrap around me in a familiar and oddly comforting anaconda grip.

“Oh my god, thank you so much for getting my purse back, I don’t know how I can- Y-Yuno?”

That voice. Is it?

“M-Minji?”

I turn to look at the source of the voice, inadvertently meeting her eyes, mere inches away. Thick-rimmed glasses adorn her face, like the ones stereotypical nerds wear. Technically, she is a nerd, but a really cute one. She still has me in her grip, but if I’m being honest, I never want to leave it. It’s like the warmth of a weighted blanket, but… cuter. God, I think I’m going insane.

Fortunately (or rather unfortunately), Minji lets go, finally giving me room to breathe. This weird, fluttering feeling in my stomach remains (Is this what people mean by butterflies?).

“S-sorry about that, uh… Th-thanks, Yuno…” She mutters, her gaze never leaving the ground.

“Y-yeah, no problem…”

“Yuno!” My dad calls out to me, running in our direction. “Jesus, you're fast… huff… Are you alright?” He glances over at the thief’s unconscious body as two mall cops drag him away. “You certainly did a number on him, huh? Impressive.” He pats my shoulder, giving me a proud smile.

The clop of expensive high heels draws our attention, growing louder and louder with each step.

“Minji! Are you okay, dear?”

Minji’s mom appears, checking her for injuries.

“I-I’m okay, mother. Um, you remember Yuno, right?” She awkwardly gestures towards me, leading her mom’s gaze. With her cold gaze studying my expression, It’s like I have a sniper dot placed firmly onto my forehead, ready to blow my brains out if I so much as cough in her direction.

“Ah yes, I remember. Thank you for getting Minji’s purse back, although I could’ve easily purchased another one for her.” Her lips curl into a smile, but I can clearly see the disdain evident in her eyes. It’s almost like she knows I can see it and is doing it on purpose.

“And you must be his father, I presume.”

“Yup, that’s me, I’m his dad alright,” he says with a friendly chuckle. “Ian Lin, it’s nice to meet you.” My dad extends a hand towards her, which she accepts with clear reluctance in her movements, although he doesn’t notice this.

“Well, I would love to chat, but we must get going. Minji dear, go and pick up the bags, we’re heading to the tailor to get your new dresses fitted,” she says to Minji before waltzing off without another word, leaving her daughter to pick up a mountain of shopping bags. Looking at her, it’s hard to believe that someone as unconditionally kind as Minji was born from that unassuming she-devil. Maybe Minji is adopted or something.

“I-I should get going,” Minji says, panting with exhaustion. “B-bye, Yuno.”

“Wait.” I reach out and grab some of the bags from her. “Let me help you.”

“Oh, you don’t have t-”

“I want to.” 

The words come out before I have time to think about them. Minji blushes as she hands a few of the bags over to me. Meanwhile, my dad whips over to the other side of her and offers his assistance.

“May I?” He asks, reaching his arm out towards the rest of the bags. Minji concedes with a sigh, shooting him a grateful smile.

“Thank you, I was, uh, really struggling before,” she admits.

The three of us follow loosely behind Minji’s mother. No wonder she didn’t text me, I don’t think I would have the luxury of breathing when I’m around a terrifying woman like that. Still, it does put me at ease a bit knowing Minji wasn’t exactly ignoring my text. Seeing her in person is way better than a couple of words on a screen.

“Minji, right?” My dad asks her, making small talk. “Are you and Yuno friends?”

“Yes, Mr. Lin, we are friends.”

Friends. The title feels bittersweet at best, but hearing her admit that without any hesitation in her voice makes my lips curl into a smile, which I hide with a fake cough.

“That’s great, I don’t get to meet a lot of Yuno’s friends. By the way, just call me Ian, Mr. Lin makes me feel older than I already am,” he quips, earning a chuckle from Minji. “I have to ask, what’s Yuno like at school?”

“Yuno is…” She turns to look at me, but my gaze is glued to the ground, too nervous to meet her eyes. “...a bit of a troublemaker…” Damn. “...but he’s a good guy.” Hell yeah.

“That’s good to hear. Y’know, he gets his personality from his mother.” His grin fades for a second before going back to normal. “And he gets his good looks from me.”

The two of them laugh while I silently cringe to myself, a dull throbbing hitting my temples. Never in a million years did I imagine the two of them ever meeting, let alone holding a conversation like this. It’s kinda nice in an off-putting way. Better than letting Minji meet him as a grieving alcoholic.

“Hurry up dear,” Minji’s mom calls out to her, walking into the tailor shop.

“Welp, this is my stop. Thank you for the help, but I can take it from here,” Minji says. She takes the bags from us, lightly gracing my hand, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. “Bye Yuno and it was nice meeting you, Mr. Li- er, Ian.”

A disappointed sigh leaves my lips as I watch her disappear into the shop. She was right there, close enough for me to catch a whiff of her lavender-scented perfume. I’ve been waiting all day for a text from her, yet my stupid feelings made me too nervous to speak.

“You like her, don’t you?”

My head snaps towards my dad, a sly smirk dancing on his lips. My eyes grow wide in shock, “W-what, n-no… I-I just, uh… W-whatever…”

“I know that look anywhere, Yuno. It’s the same one I gave your mother before we started going out,” he explains. My face sinks into my hands, the overwhelming urge to disappear consuming me.

______________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

My family has frequented this specific tailor shop at the mall for numerous occasions over the years, we even went here to get my school uniform properly fitted before the school year started. The shop has one sole worker, a kind yet quiet old man. He’s skilled at his job, but my only issue with him is that he continuously pokes me with sewing pins while taking my measurements. 

“Mother, why do I- Ow! Why do I need so many new dresses for my wardrobe- Ow! None of these clothes are things I would wear casually.”

She sighs. “I suppose we’ll have to tell you eventually.”

“Tell me what?” I ask, my brow furrowing.

“We’re doing a business collaboration with the Park family and we thought it would be a good idea to hold a banquet this Tuesday to mark the beginning of our partnership. We haven’t seen them in a while, so we figured it would be a good idea to catch up.”

The Park family? “Okay, but if it’s for the business, then why do I have to go?”

“Their son, Sunghoon, will be in attendance, so we expect you to do the same.”

Sunghoon. Just the name alone sends a shiver down my spine. I thought I finally got rid of him after he moved away in middle school, but no. He’s finally come back to haunt me.

“U-uh, I have school that day a-and I have a test coming up that I need to study for and-”

“Your father and I think that the opportunity to network and make connections with influential people in the industry will be more beneficial to you than a high school test that you can make up anyway. Besides, don’t you want to see your old friend Sunghoon again? I remember how hard you cried after he moved away.”

No, Mother, those were tears of JOY. My parents have been close friends with the Parks since they attended the same college together, so naturally (and incorrectly), they assumed that their kids would be close as well. Sunghoon got along well with my brother, but he was an absolute menace towards me. He would call me names, steal my things, and talk bad about me to his annoying group of friends. No matter how much I cried to my parents about him, they always gave me the outdated, misogynistic line of “boys will be boys.” When his family finally moved away during middle school, I couldn’t have been more thrilled, literally crying tears of joy knowing that I would never have to see him ever again. But of course, fate is a cruel mistress, making everything go right for a couple of years before stabbing me in the back with a Sunghoon-shaped knife.

“But mother, I-”

“We’re just asking you to attend the banquet for a couple of hours and mingle. Why do you have to make things difficult?”

A dejected sigh leaves my lips. There’s no getting through to her at this rate. At least I have a day to mentally prepare myself before the banquet. Right now, I plan to say hi to him to keep up appearances and then avoid him like the plague for the rest of the event. Piece of cake, right?

My gaze falls to my purse, sitting on a bench a few feet away. A thought plants itself into my head like a seedling, growing and growing into a full-blown idea. Maybe there’s a way that I can make this banquet a little more bearable.

______________________________________________________________

The second we make it into the house, I kick my shoes off by the front door and dash upstairs towards my room, ignoring the calls from my mother to put them away properly. By the time we finished up at the tailor, my phone had somehow died in my purse, making me antsy the whole drive home.

I burst through my room, practically leaping towards the charger.

“Come on, hurry up,” I plead, praying that it will somehow make the phone turn on faster. Thankfully, it only takes a few seconds to light up with life. I quickly scroll through my messages, typing up a quick text to the person who will be most vital to plan.

Yuno: Good Morning.

Minji: heyyy! can i call u? i have something important to ask

______________________________________________________________

Yuno’s POV

I stop dead in my tracks, almost dropping the bag of groceries in my hands as I scan my phone screen over and over again. Does she really want to talk… to me?! On the phone? What could she want to ask me? Is she gonna-

“Hello? Earth to Yuno.” My dad waves his hand in front of my face, pulling me from my trance. “I can’t have you stand in the middle of the kitchen while I cook dinner,” he chuckles.

“A-ah, right. Sorry.” I move to put the groceries away, but he stops me.

“I can put the rest of the groceries away. It’s clear you would rather be doing something else right now.” He gives me a knowing smile as I briskly make my way towards the stairs, grabbing the bag with my new sweater in it. Right before I head up, I turn to my dad one last time.

“Um, thanks for taking me to the mall. It was… nice.” 

He chuckles to himself before waving me off. I go to my room and shut the door behind me, typing a quick reply to Minji.

Minji: hey! can i call u? i have something important to ask

Yuno: Sure.

An overwhelming wave of suspense hits me, filling my mind with an endless mountain of questions. My phone buzzes to life with Minji’s name and I quickly swipe to answer her call.

“Hello!”

Her voice rings clearly through the speakers like the soothing sound of a gentle breeze. I’m somewhat glad she didn’t ask to talk in person, otherwise, she would see the obvious blush on my face.

“H-hi. Um, what did you want to ask me?”

“Oh right! It’s kinda weird, but… Are you doing anything on Tuesday night?”

My heart thumps loudly in my chest. Is she asking me on a…?

“N-no, why?” I can’t stop my voice from quivering with nervous excitement.

“Well…” She sighs. “It’s a bit of a long story, but basically, my parents are holding a banquet for the family business on Tuesday and if you’re not busy, I was wondering if you wanted to go… with me.”

“A-as your date?” The words come out before I can even think to stop myself from saying them. You fucking idiot, why would you say that!? Minji is gonna think you’re weird now! “S-sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“T-technically speaking, you would be my… date.” 

A loooooooooong awkward pause ensues. My heart is beating so loud, I’m worried she’ll be able to hear it through the phone. TV static and white noise run through my mind as I stand in the middle of my room, frozen in disbelief.

“Um, hello? Yuno?”

“Y-yeah, I’m here, s-sorry,” I manage to croak out. “Why do you want me to go? Wouldn’t it be better if you invited your other friends instead?”

“There’s this guy that’s gonna be there and I would really like to avoid him, so I figured I could bring you instead of the girls and maybe he’ll… y’know.”

My heart sinks a little. “You want me to be there to scare him off?”

“...Well, when you say it like that, it sounds mean.” Her tone turns apologetic. “I’m sorry, Yuno, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to-”

“I’ll go.” Maybe I’m just a hopeless love-stricken fool who’s willing to toss away any ounce of self-respect I have left for a girl he likes, but it’s not like I’m doing anything interesting on a Tuesday night anyways. Plus, banquets usually have free food, and if Ms. Kim’s cooking is any sign of things to come, it’ll probably be really good.

“I’m sorry if it seems like I’m using you, I just really need a friend to help get me through the banquet. Y’know, it feels like I have to keep reminding you that we’re friends, Yuno,” she says.

I collapse onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling fan as it spins in place. “Sorry, I’m still getting used to having friends.”

“It’s okay, I’m probably not doing a great job at being a good friend. It feels like you’re always helping me with something and I haven’t paid you back at all.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“First, you saved me from that drunk guy in front of the convenience store, and then the spider in the Ferris wheel, and now today with the purse thief, and now I’m asking you to go to a banquet with me because I don’t want to see some guy. You’re always doing things for me and I haven’t done the same for you.”

“That’s not true,” I refute. “What about the time I walked you home and it started raining, so you let me sleep on your couch so I wouldn’t get sick from the rain?”

“See, I only did that because you offered to walk me home. You’ve done a thousand things for me, and I’ve only done one thing for you. I think I’m a pretty bad friend-”

“That doesn’t make you a bad friend at all!” I yell out without realizing it. Minji goes quiet, the only thing I can hear is my anxious heartbeat and her quiet breathing. “S-sorry, I-I didn’t mean to yell…” Fuck, I made it awkward. “I, uh… You’re not a bad friend, is what I’m trying to say. U-um, you’re very kind and understanding, even to someone like me. I know I don’t have a lot of friends, but I know for sure that you’re a good one. You help me out more than you realize.”

There’s a long pause before Minji speaks again. “...Okay, first of all, I don’t like being yelled at, but I will accept your apology since you had good intentions.” I let out a sigh of relief, but the ache in my chest still lingers. Her tone is much more serious than it was a second ago. “Second of all, what do you mean “people like you?””

“Y’know…” I think carefully before I speak, treading through eggshells while I search for the right words. “You said it yourself when we were at the mall, I’m a troublemaker.”

Minji sighs. “Okay, that’s my bad, but I also said that you’re a good guy. You can convince yourself that you’re a bad person all you want, but that doesn’t mean you deserve to be lonely. I want you to be surrounded by people who love and care about you, Yuno.”

God, she’s so perfect. What did I do in my past life to meet an angel like her? “Th-thanks, Minji.”

“Of course. What are friends for?”

Friends. A word that felt so foreign and unattainable until recently. It still feels weird to digest, but a good kind of weird. The kind of weird that makes me feel excited for what’s to come, even though I have no clue what to expect. It’s like exploring an unexplored part of the world, no map, no research, simply traveling on pure curiosity alone. You might discover something frightening, yet you continue to dig because of the possibility that there’s something beautiful once you get to the other side.

Maybe “friendship” is as far as Minji and I are meant to go. Yet I continue to dig and dig through all these new, exciting, and terrifying experiences, because despite my whole internal monologue this morning about how we’re so different, about how she’s a shooting star and I’m a lowly cockroach, I desperately want to see what happens when I get to the other side. I am irrevocably, completely, and (most importantly) foolishly in love with Minji Kim.

[apoemaday]

Facts About the Moon

by Dorianne Laux

The moon is backing away from us an inch and a half each year. That means if you’re like me and were born around fifty years ago the moon was a full six feet closer to the earth. What’s a person supposed to do? I feel the gray cloud of consternation travel across my face. I begin thinking about the moon-lit past, how if you go back far enough you can imagine the breathtaking hugeness of the moon, prehistoric solar eclipses when the moon covered the sun so completely there was no corona, only a darkness we had no word for. And future eclipses will look like this: the moon a small black pupil in the eye of the sun. But these are bald facts. What bothers me most is that someday the moon will spiral right out of orbit and all land-based life will die. The moon keeps the oceans from swallowing the shores, keeps the electromagnetic fields in check at the polar ends of the earth. And please don’t tell me what I already know, that it won’t happen for a long time. I don’t care. I’m afraid of what will happen to the moon. Forget us. We don’t deserve the moon. Maybe we once did but not now after all we’ve done. These nights I harbor a secret pity for the moon, rolling around alone in space without her milky planet, her only child, a mother who’s lost a child, a bad child, a greedy child or maybe a grown boy who’s murdered and raped, a mother can’t help it, she loves that boy anyway, and in spite of herself she misses him, and if you sit beside her on the padded hospital bench outside the door to his room you can’t not take her hand, listen to her while she weeps, telling you how sweet he was, how blue his eyes, and you know she’s only romanticizing, that she’s conveniently forgotten the bruises and booze, the stolen car, the day he ripped the phones from the walls, and you want to slap her back to sanity, remind her of the truth: he was a leech, a fuckup, a little shit, and you almost do until she lifts her pale puffy face, her eyes two craters and then you can’t help it either, you know love when you see it, you can feel its lunar strength, its brutal pull.

[the-aspec-country]

I exist now!

hi Tumblr! I am the Aspec Country! I don't know how else to introduce myself so I'll just tag some people

(sorry if I double tag you)

@aro-sp-ace-force @big-fucking-sagittarius-astar @bisexual-navy @canadian-hellbird @france-unofficial

@gimmickverse-weekly @god-of-death-official @gimmick-swag @genderfluid-marine-corp @i-say-bean

@i-am-the-milky-way-galaxy @its-target-official @libra-the-scales-offical @literally-leo @literally-luxembourg

@might-be-capricorn @moongate-keepers-official @non-tyrannical-usa @official-god-of-order @officially-new-zealand

@official-draco-constellation @officially-capricorn @the-missiles-guy @totally-neptune-official @totally-oregon

@totally-ikea @ursa-minor-probably @ursa-major-actually @walmart-the-official

@youraveragemagicalthief@yahooo-official @duothelingo @i-say-bean @corvus-the-constellation

@and-cassiopeia @officially-taurus @the-official-god-of-chaos @the-real-illinois @the-principality-of-sealand

@the-red-planet-mars @its-target-official @guatemala-official @the-gimmick-authority @thestateoflouisiana

@amul-unofficial @official-the-united-states @official-denmark @denmark-forreal @denmark-official

@denmarklandia-official @actually-danish-denmark @official-hongkong @official-ireland @definitelytherepublicofireland

@actually-literally-ireland @forever-scotland @totally-france @france-unofficial @russia-totallyofficial

@germany-official @totally-germany @genuinely-germany @definitely-britain

@definitely-canada @official-new-zealand @india-official @yugoslavia-official @wales-official

@the-offical-roman-empire @the-official-italy @guatemala-official @totally-italy @the-principality-of-sealand

@definitely-brasil @holy-roman-empire-revived @spain-unofficial @very-real-australia @antiquitian-empire

@literally-luxembourg @100-percent-real-official-malta @totally-japan @therealrepublicofkorea @pakistan-official

@i-am-poland @kingdom-of-asgardia-real @very-much-mexico @republic-of-molossia @the-kingdom-of-norway

@sweden-official @non-tyrannical-usa @the-entire-country-of-sweden @greenland-offical @the-state-of-michigan

@state-of-0hio-official @cape-breton-island-itself @state-of-florida-official @state-of-connecticut-official @the-us-navy-offical

@the-us-navy @the-real-illinois @the-state-of-georgia-official @mhm-wisconsin @rejasthanofficial

@stateofuttarpradeshindiaofficial @the-only-ontario @actually-alberta @newjersey-official @new-york-for-real

@definitely-indiana @the-province-of-nova-scotia-real @femboy-state-of-florida-official @the-republic-of-texas

@new-hampshire-real @unofficial-illinois @newhampshireofficial @saskatchewan-real @quebec-official

@texas-real @rhode-island-real @we-are-not-the-feds @totally-texas @telangana-official

@sovereign-state-of-alaska @tamil-nadu-official @west-bengal-official @this-is-goa @totally-oregon

@buffalony-official @maharashtra-official @kolkatabbg @gujarat-official @axom-miss

@karnatakaofficial @canadian-tire-real @tamilnadu-official @bihar-official @mumbai-official

@communist-usa-real @officially-gay-va @definitely-north-america @antarcitica-official @official-the-pacific-ocean

@the-real-atlantic-ocean @bangladesh-official @hyderabad-unofficial @delhi-the-capital @the-lovely-planet-earth

@totally-italy @france-unofficial @totally-france @the-official-italy @the-wonderful-jupiter

@speckled-callisto @deimos-moon-of-terror @moon-of-fear-phobos @decafcatfeen @the-real-eris

@the-real-illinois @the-official-goose-god @india-official @pakistan-official @asteroid-belt-resident-ceres

@genuinely-germany @antiquitian-empire @actually-mtn-dew @spain-unofficial @definitely-brasil

@definitely-britain @definitely-canada @very-real-australia @zoozve-official @the-province-of-nova-scotia-real

@the-problemo @unusuallyy @concrete-the-cat @official-denmark @official-hongkong

@official-planet-pluto @truly-pluto @truly-the-sun @its-target-official @i-am-poland

@ruhrpott-i-guess @non-tyrannical-usa @the-gimmick-authority @realsafari @official-new-zealand

@google-news-official @guatemala-official @forever-scotland @definitely-waste-management

[my-castles-crumbling]

eyeliner - @jegulus-microfic - word count: 440 - NSFW but not explicit (stripper!Regulus, anyone?)

James wasn't sure how he'd ended up here. Somehow, Marlene's entire bachelorette party had migrated to the strip club, where scantily-clad dancers moved suggestively, and Peter had already taken three shots of tequila.

James stared around, eyes a bit glazed from the alcohol, not looking for anything in particular, contemplating challenging Pete to take another shot when he saw him-

An angel.

He moved across the room like he was floating, dark hair falling in loose waves over his kohl-covered eyes, matching black satin lingerie covering perfectly slim milky-white skin scrawled with tattoos.

James reached out to slap his hand against whoever was sitting next to him, hardly daring to look away.

"Ow! James, what?" Dorcas's voice yelped.

"Something to write with. Quick," James muttered, voice rough, eyes still glued.

"Erm...I only have-"

"Whatever you have," James nodded, still craning his neck to stare.

Not bothering to look at the pencil in his hand, he began to move as soon as he closed it in his fingers, chasing the man he set his sights on.

And with absolutely no finesse, he tapped him on the shoulder, nearly choking on his own spit when he realized that he had the most beautiful grey eyes on the planet.

After an awkward moment of silence, during which the piercing eyes looked him up and down, the man asked in a low, bored voice, "Want to dance? It'll cost you."

"No-no. Just a date," James forced out, still begging his brain to catch up.

The man scoffed. "What kind of person do you think I-"

Realizing how it sounded, James corrected himself. "A real date. Dinner. A movie. You- you're lovely."

Thin fingers pushed a strand of black hair away from eyes that stared at him suspiciously. "Yeah?"

"Yes. Please," James nodded. "Can I have your number?" He held up the pencil as he asked.

But the man smirked. "Eyeliner?"

Doing a double-take, he looked at the pencil only to realize it was eyeliner. "Fuck. Sorry, I-"

"No problem," the man replied softly, snatching the pencil from him and holding his hand firmly.

How was it so sensual? Suddenly, the man was carefully, slowly writing on his arm with the dark pencil, the sensation of it drawing goosebumps and fire from James's skin. He almost drooled, watching the way the man bit his lip in concentration as he drew letters and numbers across his skin.

"Call me," the man whispered after a moment, handing the pencil back. He turned before James could say a word, giving him a wonderful view of the g-string he wore.

"Fuck," James murmured, looking down at his skin.

Edit: Marlene and Dorcas are having a joint Bachelorette party, guys. Sorry for the confusion!

[fazedlight]

Stargazing (soft supercorp ficlet, post-6)

She’s always wanted to be in love.

Lena pulled the blanket around her shoulders tighter, as she glanced to the kryptonian opening up a thermos of hot chocolate. Kara passed the filled lid cup to Lena, as she tipped the thermos to her lips, taking a small sip. Lena pulled her own cup to her lips as Kara pointed up at the night sky. “Argo City is about there,” she said, Lena following her finger somewhere west. “And Rao is about there,” she continued, pointing farther south.

She’s always wanted to be in love.

Alex’s words rang in Lena’s mind. It had been a small, quiet conversation. Lena had counted herself lucky, that after everything - her betrayal, Non Nocere, Kara going to the phantom zone - that she had been able to find family in the end. That the people around her had forgiven her. That for the first time in her life, she found peace.

It had been a calm morning, her and Alex - the early risers - having coffee in the Tower, musing about life. The chat had inevitably landed on Kara, Lena finding herself constantly curious about what it had been like to grow up with an alien for a sister, a refugee who had struggled to adjust.

She’s always wanted to be in love.

And now Lena found herself gazing at the kryptonian, knowing that her expression would be revealingly wistful if Kara’s sights were not fixed to the sky as she rambled. Couldn’t she just fall for me? Lena thought, trying to chase off the melancholy.

It was the third Friday in a row where Kara had gently lifted Lena from the Tower balcony, taking her up to a flatter portion of the roof, the sky open above them. National City was a bit too bright to see anything as marvelous as the Milky Way. But the planets, Ursa Major, Orion’s belt - all shone brightly in the sky.

Kara rambled amiably about an old friend’s telescope, how she’d fly it over to the Tower next time so that they could see Saturn’s rings. Lena smiled softly, soothed by the sound of Kara’s voice, the gentle vibration that Lena could feel in her chest from their snuggled position. But it just itched at her mind - what is it that Kara wanted out of life? Had things changed?

Kara paused in her ramblings, smiling curiously at Lena. “Are you okay? Warm enough?” “I’m plenty warm,” Lena said, pulling her blanket in tighter. “Just thinking.” “About what?” Kara said, wrapping her arms around the human, as though to offer help in fighting away the cold evening.

Lena glanced up at Kara, uncertain if… this was a conversation they should really have. But with the warm blues staring back at her, with the itch in the back of her mind- “Alex said…” Lena found her voice faltering.

Kara rubbed at Lena’s back soothingly, as she tilted her head curiously.

“Alex said… you always wanted to be in love.”

Kara’s eyes widened. “Oh,” she replied, the word seeming to fall from her lips. “I- well.”

“Sorry,” Lena said, somewhat flustered. Why did I bring this up? “We can drop it, it’s a weird conversation.”

“It’s fine, Lena, it’s just - I am in love.” Kara’s eyes hesitantly glanced to the side, before meeting Lena’s face again. “I’ve been in love for years.”

Lena’s stomach plummeted, suddenly feeling anxious. “Oh,” she said. “But you’re… not with them,” Lena mulled contemplatively, her wistfulness tied up in some sadness. Because as much as she wanted Kara... more than anything, she just wished Kara could be happy. 

Kara’s gaze left Lena, turning her head back up to the stars. “It wasn’t until I was in love that I realized I didn’t have to be loved back.”

“Anyone would love you,” Lena said.

“Not anyone,” Kara replied, glancing down at the roof. “Sometimes, things aren’t meant to be.”

“Who are you in love with?” Lena asked, the words falling from her lips before she could think to stop them.

Lena didn’t miss the way Kara’s throat tensed, a nervous swallow as she resolutely avoided Lena’s eyes. “You know, Lena. You have to know.”

Something tentative bloomed in Lena’s chest. A yearning, a hope. A realization that washed over her. Oh.

It almost felt silly, in retrospect, Lena’s mind parsing through the relationship. Because she thought she had been obvious, with the Valentine flowers, and she had taken the hint when the reporter had emphasized that they were good friends.

But… flying to Dublin, and Paris, just to give Lena a treat? The sobbing confession, that explained the line that Kara could never cross. Risking the world, in a fight to save Lena’s soul. For a friend like you, there are no boundaries.

She didn’t speak. Instead, she lifted her hand to Kara’s cheek, gently turning Kara’s face to her own. Kara glanced nervously back, her eyes shifting slowly between Lena’s eyes, when the truth of what they had both been wrestling with began to wash over her too. A shy smile, a small laugh. After a moment, Lena found her eyes drifting to Kara’s lips.

Lena smiled again, noting as Kara’s tongue darted out, wetting her lips in subconscious anticipation. Lena leaned forward as Kara’s head tilted in, Lena closing the gap to press her lips against the kryptonian’s.

They savored the brief meeting of lips, knowing that soon would come a time for passion and desire - but not now, not yet. On this roof, beneath the planets and Rao and the open sky, they only shared their intent.

Kara pulled away slightly, eyes still closed as she tilted her head to the side, nuzzling against Lena’s cheek in a silent confession that finally gave Lena the courage to say what she needed to say. “I love you too.”

[the-red-planet-mars]

THE UWU REVOLUTION

@the-lovely-planet-earth no matter what you do you will never be free from this; not until my chaotic desires are satisfied. Not until the contributors of the revolution deem it done.

You guys better keep this going for at least a few weeks. Please-

Interact with Earth only with uwu-fied lingo

Tag with: uwufy earthy (not just this u can add other tags ofc)

VIVA LA UWU REVOLUTION!

@the-panic-moon-deimos @the-lovely-planet-earth @the-principality-of-sealand @the-official-italy @moon-of-fear-phobos

@official-denmark @official-planet-pluto @official-new-zealand @planet-king-jupiter @pizza-moon-io

@speckled-callisto @moon-of-jupiter-callisto @france-unofficial @totally-italy @totally-france

@realsafari @decafcatfeen @definitely-brasil @definitely-canada @i-am-the-milky-way-galaxy

@true-blue-straya @spain-unofficial @the-real-illinois @zoozve-official

@antiquitian-empire @india-official @same-pic-of-mars-everyday @same-pic-of-the-blood-moon @i-dont-know-how-to-name-this

@100percent-chipotle @guatemala-official @i-dont-know-how-to-name-this1 @forever-scotland @google-news-official

@unusuallyy @genuinely-germany @femboy-google-news-official @minecraft--unofficial

@the-problemo @concrete-the-cat @non-tyrannical-usa @denmark-forreal @denmark-official

[bruciemilf]

ohemgee that Krypton Clark arriving to an established Justice League AU is perfection!

I imagine he tries to wear down Bruce in his courtship by stepping up a little because surely if The Bat were to consider him then the man needs reassurance Clark will always be present and there for him, like he once overheard ((from miles away on the farm of course, because his soon-to-be mate was hiding , what a shy, lovely creature he is!)) Bruce offhandedly mention some space meteorite and potential dangers so Clark is thinking I am going to show him I am willing to protect him and our this planet by destroying it and bringing him a piece to prove my loyalty and commitment! And when he lends a hand to the league in the watchtower or out in the city, he will slowly come up to Batman and always pick up where left off My dear this game of tag of yours is very endearing, I almost didn't catch you! More proof of how you are such a trained and skilled fighter. Together we make a good team and I can see us being most agreeable pair of mates... and Bruce is a mess. He may even rope Hal into the convo for an out because he's so flustered. What if it results in him doing a amongus/Clint Barton move and vents his way out and leading to the Zeta-tube. I've strayed off but the hold this has on me is immense.

What I love about this is that neither of them can flirt like normal people. Lois desperately tries to show Clark earth appropriate dating customs and he's just confused. " But that's so slow and inefficient. And so needlessly complicated. Besides, Bruce likes when I bring him rocks."

"Yeah, rocks! Not the freezing corpses of alien enemies!"

Clark is currently holding a lifeless body of an alien who planned to abduct the bat. Its just easier and cleaner if Bruce doesn't know. Poor darling already has so much stress. " This one's still warm."

Also; I couldn't agree more with Kryptonians being more alien like. Bruce usually has little problems with harsh rejection, but if it's Clark...He simply asks Hal to drop an arm over his shoulder.

"Can I squeeze a boob? I just feel like it'll be more realistic if I squeeze a boob. "

" No."

Oliver side eyes, " You're a grown man. Call them milkies."

Clark comes in, solar sweep smile radiating, except there's nothing friendly about the way his fangs glare. He pulls Bruce in, and his face just...Does a thing. There's tentacles and screeching involved and Hal is frozen in place.

Clark is back to normal in less than a minute.

" Please don't do that! If Bruce chooses you as the better mate, that's fine, but you can't interrupt my ritual. It's rude!" And then he happily flies away with a curious and blushing Bruce.

"... You ok, Jordan?"

" Ring; dipers."

[vampiretendencies]

IDCNTLIKEDARKNESS MILESTONE EVENT ★

request; hi love ! so i saw someone request “jj x reader where they are making out and her lip stick smudges on her face and all over his lips, and they’re just so in love” on another page and i was wondering what your version would look like.. <3

pairing; jj maybank x fem!reader

warnings; shotgunning (smoking), fluff, making out

authors notes; after i did that headcanon yesterday of what jj was like as a boyfriend i decided to do an entire blurb of just shotgunning, i hope this little twist i added is okay !!

masterlist — jj maybank masterlist — milestone masterlist

Neither of you knew how you’d gotten here.

How you are seated at the far end of JJ’s dirt bike, and his back is to the steering handles— facing you. Knees grazing the others, helplessly waiting for the release between JJ’s fingertips. Or maybe it could be described as an escape, a painless one at that. The tight space in John B’s front yard was ideal, and JJ is taken aback that he hadn’t thought of sooner.

His girl, his weed, his bike, and his beer.

His only necessities in life.

Though you are first on that list, his priorities lie with you. Even if there wasn’t another ounce of weed to spare on this planet, you were his remedy.

And he was content with that.

Chasing the love you give him was enough of a rush in itself.

Willing to run forever until he’d gotten enough— and he’d never have enough.

The initial escape, is a blunt and it’s sitting pretty between his knuckles. Aligning together to uphold it at an angle, all the power of nothingness in such a small load. Thankfully he’d be stuck in that nothingness with you. JJ’s neck is somewhat sunburnt, as he’d given you the more shadier side of the bike, guarded by the overpowering tree at the Chateau. He’d never mind though, his girl deserves nothing less. He’s admiring you like he met you an hour ago, like it was the first time. What stuck out most though, was the seductive lip stain adorning your mouth a dark brown accentuating the curvature of your cupids bow and a cinnamon red blotted in the middle. Tinted and emphazing his most favored part on your features.

The shotgunning that’s too commence was a shared hobby between you and JJ. Bonding over it after he’d stepped foot in the local shop you worked at, coming in to buy rolling papers. Though JJ knew full well that they weren’t sold there, he just couldn’t get your image out of his mind upon buying a six pack earlier that week. An exceptional beauty behind the cash register.

Hell, he still has the first blunt the two of you shared locked away beneath his pillow in a small baggie— an emblem of the relationship.

And the rest was history.

“Gonna’ have to open real wide for me baby.”

He reminded, though is wasn’t necessary. What he was really after was seeing your mouth all slack for him, agape and awaiting his sensuous smoke to enter your lungs.

Quite the sight for ravenous eyes.

“I know,” you deadpan. Giving him a pat on the shoulder, as if to say ‘you achieved nothing with that sentence’. Even still he’s offering a shit-eating grin, weight shifting on the bike to reach the zippo lighter in his cargo-shorts pocket— with one swift movement the blunt burned with fire.

JJ encloses his pair of lips on the bud, expertly letting a cloud of smoke flow to the back of his throat, reserving the remainder in his mouth for you. Hallowing his cheeks, his hands form a ‘come closer’ motion and you inch forward on the bike— it was unknown how much more room was still left between the couple after being this insanely closed in and harmoniously integrated.

He curves his index finger beneath your chin— putting it out, unable to waste one drop as he was planning on basking in this moment; talent like because this was second nature. His mouth parted open along with yours, delicately blowing the milky white smoke to the back of your throat. His eyes darkened, watching such a tasteful scene unfold before him.

Allowing you a second to inhale it and feel it deep in your lungs— the sharpness of the weed daggering at your throat causing a cough or two. He desperately rested his hands around your waist, luring you into his eager lap. Smoke-ridden lips feathering loving pecks to your jaw, giving way for you to sulk in the nourishment that the joint gave you.

“Doing so good, pretty girl.”

Large hands centered about your neck, tightening around and grasping onto it with no sanity. Your breath hitches at the suddenness, he hungered for a raw make out session—he was going to get exactly that. Anticipating, with wandering bodies ravaging one another. His tongue searched your bottom lip, licking it with rigorous notions as well as countering the lipstick painting your lips. It was like the cherry on top before his mouth molded with yours, slowly and all at once. His grasp on your neck, cutting off air flow but still you wanted more— you wanted to keep going.

“Fuckin’ love you baby.”

He groaned forward, meaning it but more of confessing it into the kiss so that you could feel it in your bones, continuing to turn his head to meet with yours. And still he lingers, adams apple bobbing, lips attacking yours fully. Teeth biting down on your bottom lip, showing it attention once again. So full of affection he can’t contain it. Pairs of lips intact, moving with the rhythm of the wind until you let go to press your forehead against JJ’s coming up for any granule of air. Chests heaving, his bright eyes take in the sloppy, and smeared lipstick that’s littering your lips.

So fucking messy, but still the prettiest thing he’s seen.

The evidence that you were on his lips was there, the rest of the printed red indented into his plump ones. Pouted outward at the no contact.

“You got a little something there.”

You confirmed, tracing the lipstick shade to his mouth, adjusting your hips in his lap. Sharing sentimental kisses and sharing endless weed with his girl on his bike, again, he’d wished he’d thought of it sooner.

“Lick it off?”

“M’not licking lipstick off of your face JJ.”

Aware that he’d find some notorious way to coerce you into doing so.

[aconflagrationofmyown]

but then… Gigi

chapter one (a Big Daddy Elvis fanfic)

Summary: this is a fix-it universe to catch all the feelings I have for this man in the late 70’s. It’s gonna be my least impressive, least dramatic, very plotless, indulgently meandering and self soothing fic that fixes all things through *love* -it’s gonna be so fluffy we might as well cure cancer and invent time travel while we are at it. That being so, and after all the joy that has come from y’all’s interactive prompts and suggestions with Sarge, I welcome any suggestions or prompts y’all might have as this universe expands. I hope you enjoy and this can provide a sweet little escape 🌷💋

Warnings: 18+ this universe is and will be mature due to sexual themes and drug mentions. In this chapter there are discussions about attractiveness, hinted unwanted advances in the past, some mild possible objectification, talking of weight gain and sugar babies, female masturbation with non orthodox self pleasure tools (and cherry coke didn’t come out for another two years shhh)

Special thanks to: my sugar babies @stylespresleyhearted whose pure hearted love for this concept is responsible for its very existence in the first place and her co-conspirator @eliseinmemphis . And as always, to my discord wives who forever back up all my endeavors and fuel my fire @ab4eva @elvisabutler @butlersxbirdy

Circa: early summer 1977, Memphis Tennessee

Word count: an astoundingly moderate 5k

There is a set and type of girls most likely to catch the eye of the most internationally famed rock star on the planet, and it isn’t self pity or self deprecation that makes Gigi acknowledge that she doesn’t quite fit that type. She considers it good fortune enough to run in circles that boast a number of the brazen, flirty and seemingly fearless young sort who can traipse up to Elvis Presley’s sleek Stutz window and, bending themselves over an unnecessary but effectively exposing amount, extract from him a cheeky invitation to a Graceland party.

Elvis is fond of this type, their vivacity and their audacity, even their ceaseless giggles and yes, the availability they clothe themselves with. They remind him of those girls who’d nearly break down his motel door in the early years. The ones that used to scare him shitless even as he fell prey to their perfume and painted lips, their milky soft hands sporting red hot talons that often as not hooked him down to hell with them.

As of late, he finds himself accepting any damn company he can get, after months of pushing company away. It’s a cycle and when he’s fresh outta reclusion he finds he’s probably a little liberal with the invites but it doesn’t matter. He’s still relieved and gratified that he is wanted and loved enough by his fellow Memphians that they’ll accost him on the street, lean into his window, all bubblegum and boobs, and ask for autographs and if he’s interested in some company.

He may be slowing down here lately, as his body and mind and the newspapers remind him constantly, but pretty young things are still one of life’s sweet pleasures, and even if he can’t give as much as he used to, at this rate he’s glad for anyone who’ll drag him out of the slump. Even if he’s more of a museum sort of attraction for them than the living wonder they once claimed he was. Maybe it’s this morbid understanding of these little floozie’s motivations that has him grinning along and offering a free invite for game night, all the while glancing past them to where she stands at a distance behind the giggling gaggle. Her limbs are strong but soft, her face beguiling yet oh so innocent and her posture is leant forward in unscripted eagerness to maybe catch a glimpse of him past her gaggle of friends. She has her hands clasped nervously in front of her -unconsciously highlighting the way the wind whips her thin sundress between her thighs and outlines her perfectly- and it’s adorable the way her sensible keds are scuffing the sidewalk rhythmically until she feel his gaze on her.

The minute Gigi senses his authoritative assessment of her over those tinted shades, her pretty little brain makes her snap to attention, aimless for a minute before falling back on ingrained rules of conduct. She has no seductive artifice, no hip cock or calculated smirk. Gone is the sneaker scuffing and the lip chewing and instead her back snaps straight up like a debutant, feet planted, hands unclasping, shoulders back and tits forward. Elvis thinks her mother, if she’s got one, would be very proud of her social graces. Personally, he is very admiring of those pert nipples straining the cloth, and proud of the eager tremble rustling her in the summer breeze just by a flick of his eyes over her fresh baked womanhood. But maybe it’s the red hot blush under the afternoon sun and the hesitant but almost giddy little wave she gives him that cements the fond flutter he feels in chest into a raging affection.

Falling in affection for a stranger is stupid, dumb and terribly risky. And not at all likely to be requited in the way he craves so badly these days. He knows this, it’s happened before. It’s best to stick to the gals who’ll fawn over his car window and maybe dance together for him later on. But golly, wouldn’t it be nice to pat a cheek that fresh and watch it turn rosier under an ole man’s admiration?

He pulls his cigar out to smile at her, because she deserves a full lipped, white teeth gleaming smile -his ole moneymaker. It still has its intended effect, it makes Gigi beam and her waving little hand clench in excitement. She even does a little bunny hop in place and the way the glorious young shape of her bounces under the demure sundress is all kinds of tonic to a tired fella’s heart.

It’s a lot to take, the way this certified legend ducks and peers past her gaggle of friends at his window to give her not only his attention but that most delightful of grins. The one that is deceptively bashful over being so admired. Gigi would be a pants on fire liar if she didn’t admit that she’s watched enough footage and poured over enough magazine spreads of the man through the eras to nearly swoon under the real life shimmer of it.

And she knows, vaguely, that she’s acting air headed in the way she trembles and bounces but that’s all she’s got, these natural responses, never was good at faking much of anything she feels, and certainly not when she was decidedly embarrassed. Which she was now -what with the way his smile is boyishly fond, his demeanor fatherly and his eyes lewdly assessing. There’s not a bit of the masculine spectrum he isn’t embodying at this moment and her body betrays her by submissively tremoring under his gaze alone. What would a touch be like?

Such slack mouthed, nipple tingling, body electrifying thoughts get interrupted when the myth himself points a bejeweled finger at her -one that is slender and lean and elegant in contrast to the bulk burdening the rest of him- and asks in a meltingly soft voice:

“You any good at charades, sweet cheeks?”

Even if she were terrible at the game, even if she didn’t know how to play it at all, the hopeful raise of his eyebrows would make her lie, hand on the Bible to this Hollywood trained actor, that she was the best charade player the world has ever seen. Her reply in the affirmative is overly confident due to sheer nerves and eagerness, and she vigorously bobs her head to add unneeded emphasis. It makes her beauty queen friends giggle and laugh good naturedly and to his relief she joins in, a hand flying up in humiliation to shut that glossy, pink mouth.

It’s so clumsy and natural a reaction that Elvis’ pointed finger twitches from a desire to tickle her, to watch her writhe from something besides embarrassment. He mourns that she’s standing so far from the window. At least the distance has given him a good view of her from the top of her shiny widdle head to the sole of her itty bitty footsies.

Plans are made at the window, Lamar is to send a car and apparently the lot of them will all be at Dinah’s house for pickup and Gigi tries to get a little closer to overhear these details but the crowd of girlfriends is a few bodies deep and there’s fans gathering, too. So she learns the logistics later, when everyone has finished homework and shifts and are primping in Dinah’s upstairs bedroom, hairspray and nail polish fumes thick in the air, and voices nearly hysterical in pitch from excitement.

-It worked! It worked! It worked! We are going to party at Graceland! Elvis Presley invited us to spend the evening!-

There’s a lot of different reasons for excitement, some of the girls are just curious to see the icon’s home, some are talking of how envious their older sisters (even some mothers) will be over them meeting their crush, others are hoping the scene is as debauched as the rumors would have the world believe, an opportunity to taste drugs and that rock n roll lifestyle for a brief shining evening. Marie asks if they think he’ll make them do naughty, dirty, sexy things for him and that brings up fresh tittering and salacious hearsay regarding his appetites and tastes. Someone deflates that mood by saying that he might just be a dirty old man now, it’s not quite the same as going to his house a few years ago. At forty years old he’s ancient to them. What with his declining health and being a recluse and -what if he lures girls and then murders them? Oh god, the urban legends come out, he’s a vampire, he’s a serial killer, he’s this and he’s that and-

Gigi thinks he’s awfully generous. That’s what she thinks. Inviting strangers into his home. And not just pretty young things. She personally knows folks who he’s helped, the downtrodden and the dehoused and the disadvantaged. She’s grown up in churches and schools and municipalities he’s funded. He practically provided for her and all of Memphis like an omniscient father figure these past three decades. And now there’s this kindhearted invite which most seem to consider akin to a ticket to a Carnival.

As she lets the girls fluff her hair and spritz her in perfume, adding an extra coat of mascara to her lashes -stultifying her if she’s being honest- she gives a brief thought to whether, just maybe, this will be a decadent night after all.

Elvis is still Elvis. It can’t be all hearsay. And for someone like her, who’s been a good student and a decent worker and hasn’t gone chasing every wicked, back alley experience available in Memphis, she frets a little that maybe inside that iconic mansion tonight she’ll lose something that’s been preserved so far.

Innocence? Maybe. But she thinks her greatest concern is that maybe he’ll prove to be something less warm and darling and extraordinary than that brief exchange on the sidewalk and years of idolizing have convinced her that he is. All this talk of him that floats around her makes her feel faintly ill, the morbid curiosity and the vulgar interest. No wonder he secludes himself.

The car arrives, decadent and alluring like its owner, and driving it is one of the many trusted minions of the king. There might not be seatbelts for every girl here but that doesn’t seem to matter, Gigi happily offers up her lap to Tammy and teases her that Tammy is her safety belt and Gigi is her booster seat. It’s a jolly ride, banter being made with the front seat fella who’s name she has to ask for about five times before Tammy takes pity and informs her he’s “George Klein”. Gigi gets a schooling in the back seat about his radio show and once again Gigi is reminded why Tammy is ‘Miss Memphis’ and she’s not. The babble of voices calms down long enough for Mr. Klein to lay down some ground rules before the car pulls through the gates.

The rules are shockingly normal: stay downstairs, make yourselves at home and but don’t behave like asses, don’t shy away from approaching your host, the last thing he likes is awkwardness or standoffish coolness in his own home. Gigi is rather certain that with her nerves and hero adoration she can manage not being stuck up or acting above it all, but she’s not at all sure she’s gonna manage to not be as awkward as a newborn duckling.

Graceland through the gates is not an unfamiliar sight to most of them, but Graceland up close, caressed in the inky dark of night from inside by golden fingertips of light, is magical. As is the atmosphere inside the place, though that may be more a case of her knowing where she was, rather than anything particularly incredible occurring in the opulent space. Despite the change of clothes to a slinky little number and the fluffed blowout that her more cultured friends gave her in consideration of the evening, Gigi can’t help but feel underdressed for a night in this gaudy Antebellum Establishment. Extra mascara and expensive perfume feels inadequate to match the gold and crimson and white furnishings. If Belle Watling had a home, Gigi reckons it would look rather like this.

That old worry returns that tonight might devolve into being the most debauched of her young life, that maybe she’s stepped into a hospitable bordello, so exotic and seductive are the furnishings alone. But to her surprise, seated on crimson curved couches, and already heatedly invested in a game of charades, is a friendly looking group of men and their wives. They have to be wives, the Mafia’s wives -they look so respectable, so relaxed lounging in Elvis’ Presley’s home. There’s differing ages here, middle and younger and all in between, and a man she’s rather certain is Elvis’ own father. It’s respectable, to her immense relief and confusion.

“Ah, here comes the fresh young blood!” One of the group says and it’s a bit chaotic then, half the group invested in keeping up the game and the other set rather eager to abandon their losing streak to offer welcomes and refreshment.

She lets the bodies swirl around her, a strange feeling of being a little left out taking over her without a single rudeness on the part of anyone present justifying the feeling. It irks her that she's so skittish, it just seems that everyone somehow falls in with another or ten and the established groups begin games or snacking or talking without her and she stands alone in the human eddy watching it all happen so effortlessly.

What’s entirely unexpected a half hour or more into this friendly pandemonium is a playful tap on her shoulder and turning round to find their host himself, clad in a comfy tracksuit, unzipped sufficiently low to display a devout amount of crosses shimmering on sweat slick skin and wearing shades even indoors. He’s asking if she’d like a drink.

“Oh -Elvis!” is a stupid thing to say in reply to his felicitations but it’s all Gigi can manage in such close proximity to his warm smile, his unzipped jacket and his heady scent. He looks her over, taking in the way her friends have erased the fresh faced ingenue on the sidewalk and made her into a sex doll and it takes supreme self discipline to not reach out and wipe some of it off. His scrutiny is making her nervous but she does at last manage to scramble out, “Yes, thank you, Mr. Presley, that would be lovely -it’s lovely of you to have us and your home is so unbelievably lovely, and I can’t believe we’re here, I’ve admired you for so long and -I, I’m only 20 and can’t drink.”

The word vomit robs her of breath and Gigi sucks it back in with a painful wince -she just declined a drink and proclaimed herself a complete goody two shoes, a perfect square, to the King himself. Her face flames hot and the heavy coating of lashes flutters from eye watering embarrassment.

Elvis just tilts his head to the side and gives her sweet face the appreciative study of a blush connoisseur, his grin growing impossibly wider and a little wolfish,

“Well, darlin, I’m a lil over 21 but I don’t drink ‘neither.”

“Really?” Ggi ventures in utter surprise, and that must’ve been redeeming on her part as his smile shifts from wolfish to fond before giving a tight nod,

“I was offerin’ lemonade, or sweet tea, but I think-“ and here he steps back, surveying her head to toe in the gauzy halter dress her friends snazzed her up in, “I think, yeah, yeah, ‘think you’re a cherry coke kinda girl.”

“I’m whatever you say, sir!” Gigi salutes him like a idiot because she’s had never had a cherry coke in her life or been assessed by a powerful man and she is quickly forgetting to be shy when so bewildered by his heavy lidded assessment-

“Yeah,” he nods, satisfied after another survey of the god crafted entirety of her, “Cherry coke for you, I think, lil Miss.”

He doesn’t fetch it, someone else in this crowded place does and it comes with the ordered white straw and she sips the carbonated beverage with a bashful smile, trying to think of something sensible to say in thanks when being looked at like that by the man who having fulfilled his host duties slowly moves away to recline in a decadent crimson armchair.

“Go on now, you’re here to have some fun, sweet cheeks.” he waves her down to the floor where many others are sprawled writing dares and acts, and she settles where he directs her, right by his leg until it’s her turn.

Once she moves to the mantle and acts out her turn, once it’s successfully guessed, she’s a little at a loss as to where to go. It feels presumptive somehow to sit by him again. So she sits by Dee instead, and feels a fool five seconds later, knowing it’s just nerves and shyness keeping her from a chance at sitting by such an extraordinary hero for what’s probably the best night of her life.

Ever.

Gigi wouldn’t get this chance again and yet she decided to act like an awkward idiot for fear of acting like a -what? Cling on? Groupie? It was just his leg, his beefy, muscled, thick leg beside her, and the heat of his body and the little noises of amusement coming from him. But it made her feel like she was burning up inside, it felt intimate, it felt like she should be between those legs and surrounded by his bulk. Like between his thighs would be the cleft in the rock to hide from this vast world that she’d been looking for all her life.

He was just domestic and kind, and she had to make it weird. Tammy’s unimpressed eye roll at her doesn't help matters. Soon the left side of Gigi’s face begins to burn and out of desperation she finally turns to face Elvis and finds him staring straight at her, her abandoned, half-drunk cola being jostled in his hand like a carrot for a horse. His eyebrow beckons, she blushes harder, he keeps shaking the damn thing and ducking his head with that coaxing grin. She rises and crouches through the partiers and moves back to her place at his feet.

“Here ya go.” he says mildly as she settles, nothing mentioned of the command and obedience just enacted.

He just gives Gigi her coke back, his rings clanking on the glass and fingers brushing hers during the handover. She chokes on her next sip when he pats the top of her head. Fatherly, if her father had ever been one for pats and noticing her existence. Unfettered, Elvis’ hand slides down the glossy brushed out length of her hair, to pat her back as she gasps out her shock, somehow making things worse but oh so lovely. She dares to lean back into that caressing hand, finds herself leaning against his leg by proxy, finding herself lulled and squirmy all at once.

Charades at Elvis Presley’s house are very much the same as at anyone else’s, and strangely Gigi finds that simultaneously the most bizarre and adorable thing imaginable. There is, however, a good deal more betting and hollering than would be permissible in most households, and she finds herself enacting dubious scenes with a shockingly plentiful array of cousins and fellow guests, but altogether it’s wholesome and lively and joyous. It seems a bit rigged when Tammy, fresh off winning Miss Memphis, has to enact the white dress subway scene of Marylin Monroe -made snort worthy humorous when an ancient creature, who Gigi has on good cousinly authority is Elvis’ grandmother, provides the wind to blow up Tammy’s flimsy excuse of a dress to her upper thighs. Flashing panties as is the iconic scene.

In a weak moment Gigi tilts her head to see Elvis’ reaction to her friend's beauty, and she doesn't miss the way he guffaws around his cigar at the sight of those award winning stems. Though she doubts it’s his first sight of them, they’ve been plastered all over TV and newspapers ever since Tammy won the damn thing a few months ago. Best body and face in the state. Gigi’s primped up face and heavy coated lashes and gauzy dress suddenly feel like an attempt to mimic something she wasn’t cut out for. Self consciously she tugs at the hem of the short skirt.

Tammy flashes Elvis a wink and shimmies in a mouth watering tease before sitting opposite the two of them, legs crossed and hardly a bit left to the imagination.

Elvis keeps grinning. Tammy licks her lips. Gigi finishes her coke and vaguely recalls the fact that the man is supposedly dating one of Tammy’s rivals from the pageant, or a sister of or a- Gigi doesn’t recall really, and she can be sure that between the way he’s stroking her own sun streaked locks and eye sexing Tammy opposite, the man sure doesn't act taken.

Watching Billy Smith try to act out a cheetah giving birth takes her mind off such self pitying introspection, and before she knows it, the gaudy foyer clock is ringing out 1:00 am.

Homework and college has been running Gigi a little ragged and eventually her little head begins to droop against his leg and the way the empty coke bottle starts to slip from her weak grip catches his attention. He slowly raises his hand from where it was resting ever so lightly on her shoulder and caresses her neck. To his immense relief Gigi leans into his patting eager as a housecat, and it makes him glad. Just as much as it makes him worry.

Only twenty years old and so easily lulled.

“You got a curfew, lil one?” he asks her with concern and that startles Gigi, his warm breath hot against her ear and the grunt of him folding himself over his sizable belly to get down near her face.

“No sir. Not really.” She admits, overly respectful in her sleepy state, “My parents aren’t really into stuff like that. They are pretty liberal that way. And I live with Tammy.”

She gives him an assuring smile even as she stifles a yawn, and two things flash across his mind. This means he (or God forbid, any man) could have her over here at his whim without excuses being made. And secondly, Elvis really must look out for her so that she doesn’t fall into the company of any such other men.

There’s no precedent for a Graceland party to wind down before dawn, but he considerately asks her if she’s got classes tomorrow. The honest way Gigi nods her droopy head and moans “yeah” has his heart clenching and his fingers flex, he wants to put her to bed. His bed, he thinks, though that’s a rather dastardly thought. Really though, he’d like to wrap himself around her and hold her and tell her he’d care very much whether or not she came home late from a stranger's house. That he’d be worried sick about so sweet and darling a little treasure if she were his. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that he’ll care no matter what, his or no.

Instead, he interrupts the game to have Lamar drive her home. Tammy and a few others, noticeably the ones who look like all night partiers, stay longer.

Gigi gets another pat on the head and a commendation to do well on her grades and that’s that.

Gigi last sees him standing in his foyer, jeweled chains gleaming in the nest of his chest hair and a boyish smile on his face, Dinah coming up behind to wave her farewell. Tammy is back there, too, probably going to get up to all sorts of fun while she gets sent home like a child. Wistfully, even as she walks down his drive to her ride, Gigi wishes she had hugged him goodbye. Gushed with more than just words in thanks for the invite, maybe even buried her face there in his chest, just once in that safe haven, sweat and jewels against her cheek. He had seemed to care.

But she wasn’t not that type though, was she? Brazenness was something that always felt awkward to her and landed her splat into uncomfy situations where college boys peered into the women’s locker room and jacked off to the sight of her legs as she tried to change into her track shorts.

The frenzy she often felt in her body to be touched would immediately die in situations such as having her hand clumsily moved up and down a penis in the dark of a movie theater. Or groped over her dress by the drunk jocks she tried to experiment with. Gigi could feel her own potential simmering hot and fervent inside, ready to be appreciated and let out like a fizz from a corked bottle. It was cruel that a fatherly sorta hero was the one to make her finally feel like she would take riding that man’s shoe over the most romantic gesture from one of her many age-appropriate admirers.

If she were Tammy, she wouldn’t have inspired the literal king of rock n roll to send her to bed. If she were Tammy she’d have made a move and said “damn that mythical absentee girlfriend” and would now be flat on her back getting obscenely used by that gorgeous hunk of a man.

Instead, deposited safely home by Lamar and tucked back in her shared flat, Gigi stares at her made up face with adamant animosity. It’s a fine face, she’s been told that plenty and she’s been told she’s smart, but it’s not really inviting the attention she suddenly wants so badly. Maybe she should have worn falsies to add to the effect. Maybe her features and coloring are too light. Tammy’s bleach blonde hair does not occur to her as being a strike against this logic. Instead Gigi thinks of pouring over photos of raven haired Pricilla as a girl and marveling at the thick mask Elvis crafted for her, wonders why she can’t be that kind of girl. She’s not petite, or glamorous or particularly coquettish, but she’d ride that man till he needed IV fluids if he’d just let her.

But he chose Tammy.

Dunking her face into the sink, Gigi scrubs away the artificial bloom until she’s left pink and freckled and so decidedly innocent looking it makes her wanna claw her cheeks to shreds.

“Lil one.”

The way he’d cooed it had turned her insides to jelly and ignited thoughts of her own sizable frame being made small while smothered beneath his sturdy breadth but now it turns her angry, and in the shower she lathers herself and wishes maybe her parents had given a shit about her catching a man instead of being “all she could be” because now at twenty she’s eyeing up the bulbous shape of her Lemon Up shampoo bottle and wondering if she’s big girl enough to take it. He was so big, so bulky and sturdy and muscly with padding to boot, and she’s just so sure his cock has got to match the thighs. A bulky, chubby thing, too, probably. The sort only girls like Tammy can manage.

She wants to be that sorta girl.

Gigi grabs at the bottle. She wrenches the shower handle to off, her wet body bolting for her bed, a jar of Vaseline in her other hand and savage lust in her heart. Halfway to the bed she realizes the shampoo bottle is almost empty and she wants to cry at that. She does stomp her chilled feet like a child and whines. What she needs is weight, her subconscious provides, everything about him was heavy and wonderfully big and she needs more than a hollow bottle to mimic him. She runs back to the shower and grabs at the conditioner, same ginormous shape and this time it’s fully loaded and heavy in her hand and she races back to bed, happy to dive under the covers with her dripping hair and goosefleshed skin.

Tammy has toys to achieve this, Gigi knows from sightings of them being washed in their communal bathroom sink. Pink and veiny and some that even buzz and it was all very funny and silly to come across them when she needed to wash her hands, but right now Gigi wants nothing to do with them, the stupidly large and bulky shaped conditioner bottle not even phasing her. Because it’s hers and not Tammy’s -Tammy who is probably getting railed but Elvis Presley right now. His cockhead probably isn’t shaped like the bottom of a lemon, but it’s gotta be round and this bottle will have to do.

It doesn't do. She lathers on the Vaseline to add to the sticky want she already has pooling, she rubs herself to a frenzy and as her hand cramps she tries putting the oiled up bottle up her channel and finds it’s really just impossible. It’s burns and won’t give and she berates herself and begs a man called “daddy” that she can barely admit to herself is Elvis to “give it to her” and curses Tammy for having a big vagina. She tries and tries with ever increasing anguish and frustration as the clock ticks towards three am and valuable sleeping hours are wasted as she tries to slip more than the crown of the lemon bottle into her untried cunt.

“Give it to me please, please daddy I can

take it.” Gigi insists to the shampoo bottle and her wrist manfully attempts to shove it in after slipping it along her folds for ages.

But it won’t go and she screams more and begs more and cries more and ends up seizing her stuffed valentine's bear -gifted to her by the football team's running back- and rubs herself raw in its button nose. It’s not the first time, but for once her sticky satisfaction doesn’t come to the thought of tiny white shorts ocean wet and clinging to him, or svelte white jumpsuits and chiseled jawline grinning promise. She digs her fingers into the stuffy’s fur and thinks of a hairy chest glistening with sweat and chains jingling with noisy exhales and the smell of him. Oh god the manly smell of him! - and the quiet authority that had her sitting at his feet and having her head petted and being sent home like a child. He acted like he cared for her and could find some use for her and she wets the poor bear’s muzzle at the thought of him telling her that her purpose is to keep him happy.

Worn out and trembling from her orgasm she rolls off the poor stuffed animal and buries her face in her pillow and dreams of warmth.

Outside Gigi’s door, arrested in her trip to the bathroom by shrieks of “daddy” and curses of her own name, Tammy shakes her head in disbelief and grins to herself through her whole nightly routine.

“Why were you cussing me out last night?” Tammy asks her placidly next morning, “Are you jealous of your daddy’s attention being split?”

Gigi groans at Tammy’s mischievous smile and realizes her mistake with a blush, “You didn’t- last night you came back? He didn’t keep you?”

“No, he didn’t.” Tammy agrees through her wheezing laughs and Gigi tries to aim a kick at her shins in mortification. “He was quite the gentleman in fact,” she expounds, “Except for the fact he spent the rest of our time asking me questions about you. I told him he’d lost all his raisin’ talking to a lady about another lady. Made a girl feel like a damn directory.”

“Oh, oh I’m sorry.” Gigi tries to suppress her thrill enough to sympathize with a no doubt annoying event. “You must’ve felt left out.”

Tammy pauses in thought for a bit. “He’s very….sweet.” Is Tammy’s verdict and to Gigi’s incredulity she sounds a little disappointed. “I mean, didn’t you think he was just sorta, ya know, nice?” Tammy presses.

Gigi thinks of the way his hand felt stroking her hair, the care about her curfew, the lack of alcohol, the endearments, the sturdy meat of his thigh against her shoulder. All the things that had made her rub herself puffy with a shampoo bottle that is still hidden under her covers. Yes, he seemed very sweet, and she was desperately in love with a man she’d never see again, who seemed a bit bashful about being “discount bargain Elvis” when all she could think of was how nurturing and mischievous he was.

He just seemed -shy. Bizarrely enough. And she could sympathize with that. Laying here on Tammy’s bed watching the dust motes dance in the afternoon sun when she should be studying, she thinks she’s solved Elvis Presley.

He’s shy.

“I thought he was precious.” Gigi agrees with Tammy, though her tone holds a reverence that makes the beauty queen of Memphis’ head spin in a near 180 to observe her now flaming cheeks. It seems the man has that effect on Gigi, present or not.

“Well, well.” Pretty, sultry, darling Tammy hasn’t a malicious bone in her body but she takes delight in making Gigi squirm, “You sound enchanted!”

“He was sweet!” Gigi protests, using her words against her.

“Yeah, he was.” she agrees, her perfectly tweezed brows drawing together for a moment before an epiphany dawns on her, “But I think it’s a means to an end.”

“What do you mean by that?” She balks, fervent in her conviction that it wasn’t an act. In fact, Gigi was certain he was more himself in his own home last night than ever on a stage.

“It’s making sense now.” she starts to pace the room, “He’s an outrageous flirt, you saw him, flirting with everyone he wasn’t related to that night, but he was so sweet to you- hmm, I think he wants to baby you.”

“Baby me?” Gigi repeat, staring up at the ceiling and feeling that flutter in her belly, just from the idea of him having *any* design on little ole her. “What’s- what even is that?” She asks her, a little hopeful, content to get her education from Tammy on this just as she has on all the more mechanical and dynamical aspects of sex and men.

“It means turning you into his baby.” she laughs, like it’s the most obvious thing, “Would probably put a little chain round your neck saying ‘belongs to Elvis Presley’ or something, and in turn spoil you rotten. At least, that’s how it’s worked for the others. It’s what he’s trying with Ginger but she’s got an independent streak.”

Ginger. The others. Of course there had been others. And yet he was so lonely again, already so lonely she was sure of it. Lonely in his own home, what was worse than that? “I wouldn’t mind being his baby.” Gigi mutters, bashful at the fact that what was essentially a future of house arrest, a portly sugar daddy and head pats makes her shiver delightfully.

“You sure about that?” Tammy suddenly seems overly earnest for a conversation in her room on a Thursday evening about a hypothetical scenario where Elvis Presley takes an interest in Gigi.

“Yes.” She gives it the full, weighty two seconds of thought it deserves. “And if all I get out of it is polishing his guns and feeding him yogurt then I’d honestly be happier than studying political science.” She makes a face as she registers the homework currently crinkling somewhere under her lower back.

“So you get that the sex probably isn’t exactly legendary anymore, right? Like -you saw him.” only Tammy, beautiful, southern pageant winner that she is, with the manner to accompany the looks, could say such a thing without Gigi socking her.

She’s looking out for her, just as she looked out for her with the sub par debate President that Gigi went to prom with and found insufferable after two weeks. She thinks Gigi needs to just keep trying the field (like her, Gigi presumes) until she finds the magical unicorn that will blow her mind in bed and satisfy her curious brain.

At this point in life, she’d settle for a man who chooses her drinks for her and cares enough about her well being to get her home by his own, invented curfew. Maybe she wants a father, what with hers being liberal to the point of carelessness, but she’d settle for a daddy, happily. “Tammy,” she says very slowly, trying to distill all these emotions down into something convincing -because strangely she feels a dire need to convince Tammy of her devotion even in this hypothetical scenario- “Tammy, if he gave a crap about me and paid my student loans, I’m pretty sure I could get off by just watching him smile at the way I make a fool of myself. And if that wasn’t enough, then I’d rub myself raw on his hairy belly. -you get me?”

Tammy looms above her, upside down in her view with her blown out bleached hair, heavy coaled eyes and shimmery mouth, studying Gigi for a minute before bursting out laughing. “You really meant that bit about his belly, didn’t you?”

“Yup.” Gigi mutters, throat thick and heart pounding -somewhere else pounds, too- at the very thought of being that intimate with him, that nasty sticky sweet with him. “Why are we talking about this anyway?” She whines, having worked herself up enough she’s damp and actually a little heartbroken knowing that if anything, Tammy is the one he’d go for.

“I got a call from George Klein this morning.” she spins away and busies herself in the closet, rummaging for shoes, Gigi thinks.

“Oh?” She asks, trying to keep the waiver out of her voice as she sits up and watches Tammy as she digs.

“Yeah, we got invited back.” she says, and turns on her award winning haunches to raise a significant eyebrow at Gigi, “All of us. And then, it was specified, you too.” she watches Gigi’s panicked, hopeful blush coat her face and chest.

“What exactly did he say, Tammy?” she demands, forcing herself not to gnaw on her fingernails, having to remember these nails might be in Graceland by the end of the week.

“He said that ‘E.P. wants to make sure the old gang knew they were welcome again, and the invite is only contingent on “Miss cherry coke” coming’.” she sits fully back on her butt now just to fully appreciate the way Gigi hyperventilates. “Cherry coke, huh?” she teases, “Did you ask for that just to be as euphemistic as possible or do you actually favor the drink?”

“He chose it.” Gigi whimpers, scuffing her keds together because it’s either that or her thighs.

“Oh god.” Tammy sounds like some guys do when their team makes a dirty, dirty interception that ends in a touchdown, “What did I say? Baby you, he wants to baby you! Oh my god, like he’s sweet but that’s -that’s nasty honey, just know that’s a nasty little thing to do.” she insists before turning back to her closet and digging through the dozens of pairs again.

Gigi flops back on her back and tries to think of the deep seated meaning behind cherries, and fails to do more than buzz in hopeless nervous anticipation at going back to that warm and kind and slightly bizarre haven that is Elvis Presley and his home.

Hope y’all enjoyed and if you wanna be tagged let me know. I live off your screams and your pestering, y’all are each precious to me!

Xoxo 🌷 Marina

@prompted-wordsmith

@parodsal000

@ab4eva

@stylespresleyhearted

@presleyenterprise

@kendralavon7

@coolgirl462

@colahola

@lillypink

@stephthestallion

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@notstefaniepresley

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@joons

[bleucaesura]

STOLITZØ - FORTY THREE

“Exactly how long have I been gone?” Blitzø looked at his mother.

“Few days?” She rubbed her chin, looking up and thinking. “Week? Maybe two?”

“TWO F*CKING WEEKS?!” Blitzø’s eyes practically bugged out of his head.

“Blitzo! Language!” His mother feigned horror.

Blitzø sagged and rolled his eyes. She chuckled.

“Christ on a stick, mom!” He huffed.

“Time is different here. Wibbly wobbly and all that.” She smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “Sorry, sweetie.”

Blitzø rubbed his hands down his face in frustration.

“If it makes you feel any better,” she put her hand on his shoulder. “I think you’re ready to go.”

“Reeeeeeally!” Blitzø looked up at her with stars in his eyes.

She smiled tenderly. “Your family is waiting for you.”

Blitzø felt tears welling up in his eyes. She smiled and brushed her hand across his cheek tenderly. He leaned into it, not wanting to forget the feeling of that hand ever again.

“But before you go…” his mother stood and spread her arms wide into the sparkling heavens above her. They flew apart and expanded until Blitzø and his mother were giants standing amidst the galaxies. She continued to expand the view further. They were in the Milky Way now. Blitzø recognized the planets.

Blitzø was mesmerized. He watched, transfixed as she reached out and plucked a planet from its place in the sky. She turned to face him, the planet slowly turning and hovering above her hand.

“There’s something I’d like you to have.”

Blitzø looked closer and realized it was the Earth. He looked at her, confused. She chuckled and smiled.

His mother brought the Earth closer to Blitzø, and waited until it had turned to reveal the moon.

“Take it,” she nodded at the moon.

Blitzø reached over and cautiously plucked the little marble from its orbit. He looked it over between his fingers in wonderment. It was simple, but absolutely f*cking beautiful.

His mother released the Earth and it returned to its place in the cosmos. With a wave of her hands the universe contracted again. She held out her hand. He took it, not ever wanting to let go.

She smiled.

“Let’s put that little gem somewhere safe, shall we?” She took the moon from him and put it in his pocket. “There. In a pocket. Safe and sound. Somewhere you’ll always be able to find it.”

Blitzø smiled at his mother. He loved how she had always fussed over him.

“I want you to give that to Stolas,” she pointed to his pocket.

“You want me to give Stolas the moon?” Blitzø asked, skeptically, eyebrow raised.

She chuckled and pulled him into a fierce hug. “He’ll understand.”

“As long as someone does,” Blitzø laughed.

They hugged in comfortable silence for a time. Blitzø wanted this moment to last forever. He didn’t want to say goodbye to his mother ever again.

“Sweetheart?” His mother pulled back from their hug and looked at him. “Please know my death was NEVER your fault.”

Blitzø broke down in tears.

His mother slapped both hands on either side of his face and squished his cheeks until his lips puckered

“Ahh-ooo” Blitzø sniffled through puckered lips. His tears were tears of pain now. “Wah wuv dah fur?”

His mother laughed joyfully and hugged him tightly, wrapping them both in her tail.

Blitzø laughed in spite of himself, returning the gesture.

“Promise me that you will stop blaming yourself for my death.”

Blitzø buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent, not wanting to let go. “I promise, momma.”

“And promise me you’ll tell that sweet Prince of yours that you love him.”

“Yes, momma,” Blitzø whispered. “I promise.”

“You are worthy of so much love and happiness.” She stroked his horns tenderly. “I see a bright future ahead of you, if you open yourself up to love.”

Blitzø nodded with his face still buried in her hair. “I will.”

Blitzø’s mother released him from their hug.

“It’s time to go.”

“Will we ever see each other again?” Blitzø choked on his tears.

“My sweet, precious boy…” She held him one last time and whispered, “I see you every day.”

*****

[nuzzle]

my new adopted miracle child the ice cream milky planet lyrical bunny backpack. you will no longer be a boxed up girl. i will take you outside with me everywhere. i will show you the world. you will be freed from the shackles of the plastic bag in a lonely dark closet prison. i will love and cherish you Forever for you are my little lyrical bunny

[ianthoni]

Thank you for making me notice details in Anthony's paintings and stories that I hadn't noticed before. I love his paintings and some of the stories he posts are really poetic. It would be so nice if he was really thinking about Ian when he posted those.

I always thought that Ian and Anthony are super the sun and moon coded, and Anthony has compared Ian the sun before, so when I saw that painting with the eclipse I really wondered you know.

Honestly seeing that after realizing they did watch it together hits so hard. Noticing how he was with Anthony maybe even watching him paint is so cute to imagine.

Anthony's paintings always connected to Ian imo. But most obvious ones are the ones he make a connection with eyes and planets/galaxies/sun. Eclipse is one of them and the most obvious one clearly but i also wanna point out his eye drawings. Cause there's a lot. The first one is a blueish eyes with ice cube in it which i think can he mean ice blue, or the sparkle of the eye ( beauty of abstract) with yellow sparkles that almost looks like a sun shining, i can say it cause if you look at the next painting it is obviously a blue eye but also looking just like the sun, giving a double look to it with the rays. The shape looking very similar to the first one. This next one looks more like a galaxy yes but you cant ignore it also looks like a part of a blue iris that has the galaxy in it, again double meaning. The fourth one looks like two planets looking at the horizon there's a sun in the painting we associate that with Ian already but not only that that two planet looking orbs also look like a blue eye and a brown eye just like their eyes. Looking at the sun and the heart. Now this last one looks like a galaxy looks like milky way but again also it looks like a blue iris with a big pupil. Another double meaning with eyes and planets.

What's making all this relevant is the way he literally write it in the painting. He said "i see the universe in your eyes" he is looking at Ian's eyes and see the universe, the planets, the sun. And i think that is beautiful.

Also if you still didnt notice why his blue eyes paintings are related to Ian. He LOVES Ian's blue eyes. He thinks they're "out of this world" again a sign that he compares his eyes to the universe and galaxies.

[ragdolls-and-such]

WHATS UP GUYS. H2G2 SWAP AU

alright so! roles and explanations and stuff. pretty please do not complain about how uncreative my names are for these guys i did Not want to think about it too hard. i just like my sillies + that is all Anyway lets go !!!

this is ford dent and he's having a really interesting time rn. guy who is just ITCHING to be up in the stars exploring all that madness gets beamed up into the air with his bestie and then realizes "hey i didnt realize Peril would be part of the equation. why's there so much of That" so basically he's in a constant state of conflict between the "this is cool as shit" and the "GET ME OUT BEFORE I DIE"

next up is arthur prefect (yes i know that ruins the car joke. forgive me). arthur left betelgeuse and was headed towards Somewhere for vacation. he ended up making a wrong turn, crash-landing on earth, and having to figure things out from there. unlike canon ford, he has Not researched anything in space, he just knows about it in passing, so he's just as clueless as his ford.

simply "zaphod." that's it. a personality prototype from the sirius cybernetics corporation, built to be as optimistic and friendly as possible, ended up almost completely oblivious to or uncaring of danger, and SO VERY FULL OF HIMSELF. everyone fuckin hates him basically but every time canon marvin's horrible tragedy occurs to him, he thinks to himself "well at least I'M here. at least i have Me." and slowly the feeling starts to fade as he realizes no one actually gives a shit about him as he's like. rotting away, half-sun-melted. fun stuff :)

TRILLIAN BEEBLEBROX WHO I LOVE SO DEARLY. former genius, still Sort Of a genius, maybe? she wanted to become president of the galaxy So badly. she wanted to make the milky way a better place and knew Exactly how she was going to do it. she worked relentlessly to be elected and . lost the election. realizing that the thing that kept her from being elected WAS the exact thing that made her Want to be elected in the first place - her genuine honesty and care for people - she just went "fuck it, i hate it here," and corkscrewed her brain. Ironically, ended up getting elected afterwards, because she became more "fun" as a result of this.

finally, marvin mcmillan. human teenager, about 17 years old, and was dragged along to a party by his friends. ended up meeting trillian there, who he immediately recognized as an alien (thanks to her constant bragging about it...) and he begged her to be taken away from this god awful planet. she basically unofficially adopted him but instead of adoption its more like . what do you call it when its a wine aunt + a weird angsty nephew.

that's all <3 hope you enjoyed