#if i gotta obsess over them then so do you

[muzzlemouths]

@sinister-sincerely ;) Surprise~

You've gotta be the only person I know who specifically requests heavy angst for a valentines event, but who am I to argue! I'd be lying if I said I didn't have fun writing something so bittersweet.

Sun/Moon x Y/N Word Count: 3,750 Warnings: Mutual pining (but it's too late), hurt/no comfort

It’s exactly as you remember.

The stench of pizza grease still lingers in the air, rainbow puddles of gasoline hiding under minivans beside forgotten litter, every pothole in its place. The pizzeria greets you in its daunting enormity as you enter the mouth like a bitter swallowed pill.

You can’t say for certain what brought you to this point. How many restless nights and plaintive mornings you endured, how deep the sunken shadow beneath your eyes became until you couldn’t take it anymore. When days turned to weeks turned to months.

The earth orbits the sun in a slow, tedious loop and it is here, a year after it all, that you find yourself staring down the doors to the Superstar Daycare.

The day’s end sees parents lingering in droves around the doors. Some caught up in polite conversation, soccer moms and wine aunts sharing a good laugh, heels clinking against the sticky floor. While others tap their feet with impatient expectation and arms crossed over their chest. They check their phones and apple watches as if watching the time will make it move any faster.

Not you, though. Your feet, your time, your expectations, it all travels at a devastating crawl, and you would sooner turn around and wash your hands of this whole ordeal before you willed it to go faster. The drag of your feet is purposeful. 

You disappear into the crowd, and one by one they disappear from you. Parents and uncles and older siblings in various states of mood, their faces brightening when it’s their turn to scoop a teetering tot into their arms and ask about their day, crayon drawings and popsicle stick crafts haphazardly glued together still clutched in tiny hands. Their blurry faces pay you no mind as you stand at the center of it all, choking on the consequences of your own actions. Their numbers dwindle by the minute.

You had eventually learned to tolerate the giggling shrieks of daycare children, having worked enough shifts that the noise fell into the backdrop like everything else, but the quiet — when the doors closed for the last time and it was just you and them, free from the inhibitions of work — the quiet was your favorite part. Now it only proves to further your dread. 

There are a dozen people to hide between, then ten, then six, then four, three, two…

and then you’re alone.

Any minute now Sun will peek his head out the door to ensure that no one was missed. It’s a silly tendency, the checking and double checking and triple checking to an almost obsessive degree, but you’ve long since become fond of these little habits. How miserable, then, to have to rely on its inevitability because you’re too much of a coward to confront him yourself.

It’s this same fear that drives you to turn on your heel at the last second, reconsidering this whole plan to begin with. If you left now you wouldn’t have to see the look of betrayal on his face. If you were quick about it you could still make haste towards the exit and be out of eyesight before the door ever opened, and then maybe, if you were lucky, your heart would consider this a worthwhile attempt and would finally let you leave this all behind.

How silly to think life would be so kind. You’ve run out of chances to avoid this.

Light pours over your back in a soft rectangle curve, warm and, much like the face that greets you, familiar. His voice — a polite ‘Can I help you?’ that lacks recognition — forces you to a halt. You anchor yourself to the spot for as long as you can get away with until the flicker of determination that remains in your chest demands you to move, and only then do you greet him properly; face to face.

The state of him guts you. His dirt coated faceplate, paint chipping at the edges and thumbprints smudged en mass, built up gunk wedged into the grooves, it tells you all you need to know.

It tells you that he hasn’t let anyone help him since your disappearance.

There is something to be said about the emotional range of a robot who cannot express himself in the usual way. You considered yourself quite adept at understanding exactly what they were feeling at any given moment regardless and in spite of the lack of visual cues, rarely being hindered by their static smiles because you had other things to rely on, like the pitch in their voice, their postures, their gestures. 

But Sun looks your way in complete silence, not budging from his place within the doorframe as recognition takes hold.

Silence fills your lungs until its presence is suffocating and this, if nothing else, finally prompts you to speak up. It’s a mess — your guilty muttering of “Can we talk?” — and you’re grateful to have even managed that much, and surprised, albeit relieved, initially, when it does the trick to stir Sun from his stupor.

His response, though lacking words, can be heard loud and clear.

You scramble forward in a rush, just barely managing to wedge your foot in the door before he has the chance to finish shutting it in your face.

“Please,” you rasp, pride be damned. 

His faceplate tilts (in curiosity or frustration, you aren’t sure), and his voicebox clicks like an irked tongue. Though they remain fixated in place you can surely feel the way his eyes find the ugly scar at your jaw and follow it all the way down your shoulder. Another click. 

He widens the door.

It’s not the warm welcome you’ve come to expect over the years, but it’s likely the kindest greeting you’ll receive from him now, all things considered, so you do your best not to spit on the brittle olive branch and quickly duck beneath his arm to make your way inside.

The daycare brings a wave of emotions that immediately threaten the frail sense of composure you’re still clinging to. Memories, new and very, very old, all collect in the back of your throat and sting like fresh bile. 

You recognize every stain in the carpet that Sun could never get out, can pinpoint how long its been since he’s cleaned by how strongly the smell of bleach contends with freshly soiled diapers. You know by the back of your hand which slides will burn you all the way down and which are permanently sticky from sickly kids and parents who couldn’t afford to bring them anywhere else. You know where the craft supplies are hidden, where the movies are kept, where the toys are stored. You know how bright the stars will shine when the lights go out, and how quickly Moon will abandon his station to find another.

You know exactly where to look when either of them is hurt and hiding.

But Sun isn’t hiding, now, even though he is very much hurt. Instead he stands a few paces from your side, hand still on the door and back to you. He doesn’t run and he doesn’t hide and he doesn’t need to.

Because it is you who ran away. It is you who hid.

It’s you who disappeared to somewhere they could never reach.

“Sun, I—”

“Why are you here?”

His voice cuts through you deeper than even the guilt. You want him to be angry with you, to scream and cry and lash out so your apprehension feels justified, so you can feel like there’s still something to salvage from this relationship, even if it’s negative. Even if it hurts. It would be easier if it hurt.

Instead, Sun addresses you with dry, polite boredom. He speaks to you like a stranger. 

Then, again, arrives the silence. It permeates through flesh and bone to sink into your very core, a poison that takes root deep in the pit of your stomach and blooms into something horrid. Gnarled branches of grief and shame left unpruned for so long that they’ve made a husk of the person you used to be. 

How do you come back from that?

“We didn’t know—” his fingers vice against the doorknob until its metal warps inward, refusing to show you his face. “We didn’t know where you went, why — why you left. You didn’t say anything. Not to us or anyone we asked.” His arms pinch into their shoulder sockets, the neglected casings whining against the tension. “Believe me, we asked everyone.”

Branches twist and unfurl, spindly twigs of guilt tickling against the back of your throat, thick with vinegar. You can taste it on your tongue. It takes all of your strength to step towards him. “Sun, I—”

“Stop,” he rasps. “Don’t. Just — just stay there. Stay right there.”

It stings. You often mulled over how they might react to your return when the day came, but never did you consider that he might not even want to look you in the eye. Swallowing around that boulder draws tears to your eyes. Nevertheless, your feet remain planted where they are, resigned to have this conversation with the back of his faceplate. “I wanted to reach out—”

“I wasn’t finished,” he interrupts. His rays sink inward, briefly, face swiveling at an angle where you can almost see his eyes. “We thought…Moon thought he had killed you,” he admits. “For a short time after you left us, we convinced ourselves that this is what happened. We let ourselves believe it because — because,” he turns, finally looking you in the eye, “because the alternative is that you abandoned us like everyone else.”

Your cheeks warm beneath streams of bitter salt. Words evade you for the longest time, deaf to your pleas to say something, anything, because more than Sun looking expectant for an answer is he deserving of one. 

Sun shakes his head, unimpressed by your inability to pry your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “Two minutes,” he says.

That does the trick just fine. “Two—?”

“You have two minutes to explain yourself,” he clarifies.

Your nose twitches, sniffling. “And after?” You ask, terrified of the answer. If he shoos you from the daycare and bans your name forevermore you aren’t sure you’ll ever recover. It’s selfish to fear such things — you know, already — when your actions were undoubtedly what burnt that bridge in the first place.

His arms cross over his chest, fingers winding fiercely into the metal, and he nods towards the clock. It’s getting late, already. 

“In two minutes it won’t be my choice what happens to you,” he warns.

Your gaze follows his own, eyeing the time. There’s no telling how lenient Moon will be about hearing you out but, if memory serves, you won’t see half the patience that Sun is tentatively offering you now. You don’t have time to argue either way.

You search your heart for the words that need to be said and, when that fails to provide you with a linear path forward, you opt to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, instead. 

“I didn’t know what to do,” you admit. Your thumb lifts to press into scarred flesh, and follows it all the way down to where it disappears beneath your shirt collar. It’s ugly and it’s deep and you will bear it for the rest of your life. “I didn’t know how to confront this.”

Looking up, Sun hasn’t moved from his spot. He doesn’t blink, and he doesn’t speak, but the way his fist digs into the fabric of his pants tells you that he remembers that night clearly. You’re sure he spent several days thereafter scrubbing your blood out of the carpet.

It was an accident. As much as one can accidentally attack a loved one with blind violence, that is. You tell yourself it wasn’t intentional and you had hoped that they had, too. Both of you knew the day would come eventually either way. A dog that used to bite will bite again, no matter how strong the bond between him and his owner is. And you aren’t his owner, anyway. You can’t even call yourself his friend — not anymore.

“I thought I’d have enough time to think things over while I was recovering,” you croak through tears. “Every day in that hospital bed was spent thinking of you and Moon. I was—”

“Angry?” Sun asks.

“No!”

“Then why—?” His voice twists with the same bitterness as the dread in your stomach, almost a plead. “Why didn’t you say anything? A phone call, a letter, anything—”

“I was scared!” Despair pours from your throat like a leaky faucet having finally burst. “I almost died, Sun. I — I wasn’t sure what to do, where to go from there. I thought I just needed time, but everything happened so fast, it all passed so quickly, and the company—”

“You were fired?”

Your teeth clatter sharply against each other, lips pinching together, tongue tied. The clock tick tick ticks away. “They told me if I didn’t return that week I shouldn’t bother coming back at all. I…I could have kept my job, I could have come back, put the nightmares up on the top shelf and hope that everything just went back to normal, but…”

“You didn’t have to figure it out alone,” he answers solemnly. “Had you told us what you were going through, we could have figured something out, helped you transfer to another department or— or at least given you space. We would have come up with something.” Sun’s shoulders slump forward with a quiet, mechanical clink. He rubs anxiously at his arm and looks away from you. “Did you even like us?”

Your heart squeezes like it’s going to burst and plummets to the soles of your shoes, aching the whole way. Every instance of the love you felt for them comes barreling down on you at once; every fond memory, every moment of laughter, every hardship that you faced together. You never got the chance to tell them. “Of course I do,” you exclaim. “I lo—”

The room plunges into darkness. There is no twitch or flicker of the fluorescents to warn you, no method of hastily restoring power, nothing to keep stripes from becoming stars. Bittersweet familiarity sinks its teeth into your skin with nothing more than the quiet toll of a bell. His gaze blankets you in crimson.

You inhale sharply and prepare for the worst. “Moon—”

“Get out,” he snarls.

You flinch a foot back, but go no further. “Let me explain—”

“No.”

Your brow creases, nose wrinkling to match. “I’m not leaving,” you declare. “Why won’t you hear out what I have to say?”

“You’re a liar,” he spits, each word threaded with anger. Unlike Sun, he has no problems advancing towards you step by slow, meandered step. “Why would we want to hear a liar speak?”

Your heart twitches in your throat, threatening to suffocate you with every breath. Sun accused you of a great many things, all of which you are surely guilty of, but being a liar isn’t one of them. “I didn’t—”

“You left us!” He snarls. “Promised you wouldn’t. Promised you weren’t like the rest. You lied. Liar, liar, liar.”

His outburst convinces you to fall back another step. At this rate he’ll corner you, walk you against a wall. He’ll— “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you insist, blinking through tears. “Either of you.”

“Liar!”

You break into a sob. “I’m not—”

“Get out,” he repeats, not sparing you the patience to further plead your case. He’s nearly erased the distance between you. “Won’t ask again.”

The croak in his voicebox doesn’t stem wholly from anger, of that you are certain. You can trace it all the way back to that very night when he came back to himself, hands still painted red, claws cinched to the bone. 

He had rushed into action, even if it was in vain. Daycare first-aid kits offer little more than boo-boo bandaids and palm sized ice packs, and as it stood, you were bleeding out in his arms. Despite his own personal biases he had called out for help, and help answered in the form of red and blue lights that blinked just outside the window. 

Your memory of the event is still fuzzy around the edges even now, yet still, there are two things you remember without any doubt. First, that Moon trembled with such vigor that his casing bears scars to this day from the metal rubbing together, and second, that he spoke to you endlessly, tirelessly, until they took you away. The cadence from that night hasn’t disappeared with time. 

It isn’t anger, it’s fear.

A dog that has bit before will inevitably bite again, and a dog that fears losing what it loves will refuse to let itself love at all.

Against your better judgement, you firmly stand your ground. “I’m not leaving,” you tell him. “Not until I’ve said what I came here to say.”

“Aren’t you scared?” 

It catches you off guard.

“That’s what you told Sun, isn’t it? I might hurt you again,” he warns. “Run your skin beneath my claws, tear it to bloody pieces until there’s nothing left.” His hand twitches at his side. “Maybe this time I’ll really kill you. Aren’t you scared?”

Your feet remain planted in that spot even as every molecule of your being screams at you to run. You are anchored here, for better or for worse, even as he inches ever closer. Even as he raises his hand — old blood still caked beneath the claws — and lingers beside the old wound.

“Yes,” you answer. It halts him immediately, hand still poised at your cheek. “I’m scared, I’m terrified, that much is true, but…” your eyes trace him, each pointed nail and crimson stained finger, the lilt in his voice that spells remorse as deep and as wide as your own.

Despite it all, your eyes fall shut. “...I trust you.”

Moon remains stone still. You hear no whisper of his bell, can feel no greater heat from his vents. He surely watches you to see how much truth lies in your commitment, searching your face for any hint of malice and trickery, but he won’t find any. You’re done running. You’re through with hiding.

He lurches forward—

and embraces you fully, metal frame trembling on its hinges. 

“Thought we lost you,” he whispers. “You left. You left us.”

“I know,” you whisper in turn. Warily you echo the gesture, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close, closer than you’ve ever been allowed before. “I’m sorry,” your words spill across his chest. “I’m so, so sorry. I’ll never leave you again—”

“Don’t.” He pulls away abruptly, holding you back with locked elbows, and the sudden absence leaves you cold. “No more promises. We can’t—” he whines beneath the palm you bring against his cheek, but nevertheless relaxes into it. “Can’t handle it. Another broken promise.”

“But—”

“Please,” he mutters. “No promises. Just this is fine. This—” His hand travels meekly upward to rest atop your own. “This is enough.”

It stings, as it very well should, but you aren’t going to argue with him about this. A nod answers him, simple as. You have all the time in the world to prove to them that you aren’t going anywhere this time.

There are a million and one things to say now that you finally have the chance. A year’s worth of events to catch them up on and the whole night to discuss it all, just like old times. You’ll make new friendship bracelets, read each other stories, gossip and laugh and play. There is still something worth saving, here. They haven’t given up on you yet.

But rebuilding a relationship requires honesty, it requires communication, and there is still one secret you’re hiding. The question is, how do you go about it without tarnishing what you’ve only just salvaged? What should you say, and how should you say it? The amount of times you’ve stuck your foot in your mouth while trying to do the right thing is not insignificant. But if you don’t tell them now, you might not get the chance again.

“I still haven’t told you…” Your eyes follow the curve of his face, the familiar way with which he lets your hand cradle his cheek, and in spite of everything a smile sneaks its way forward for the first time in ages. “I never stopped loving you, you know,” you whisper. “I care about you both — more than I’ve ever had the courage to say.”

Slowly, surely, you find yourself stretching onto your toes, finally feeling brave.

His vents breath against your palms, warm steam tickling between your fingers. Telltale fumes itch beneath your nose that smell faintly of burnt wires and old oil. 

A sputtering core kicks into third gear as your face nears his. Electricity bounces from his casing to dance against your fingertips until you’re breathless and floating. You can almost taste the cold metal beneath your lips, just a breath standing between them now. Almost. Almost.

“You have to let us go.”

Your blood freezes over, paralyzing you to the core. You don’t immediately pull back for fear of what you might find. But you have to face the music eventually.

Moon is painstakingly careful as he cleans your tears with the base of his thumb. He looks you over mournfully as though taking in your presence one last time. Then he laughs, short and sweet. “Nap time is over, starlight.”

You wake up.

The pillow is wet beneath your cheek, salty and cold. You stare at the wall bleary eyed, feeling an ache in your chest that eats at you now more than ever. How pitiful, how cruel, to be haunted by missed opportunities. Guilty pleasures of received forgiveness and enough time to make things right. The chance to fix everything held just out of your reach.

You turn against your pillow to reach the other side, taking your blankets with you, but even with their weight at your shoulders you feel impossibly cold. There is nothing to reach for anymore.

The glow of a television paints your back. Turned to the news, it’s been left on all night. You remember now. You remember everything.

The reporter talks about a fire.

You try to will yourself back to sleep.

[tinrange]

Gelboys Thoughts 1

Zoom classes wow my eye just started twitching.

Blocking on spotify as the first move what 17 yr old was involved in the writing team ctfu.

07s in 10th grade... okay so that places the timeline of show uncomfortably close to my own graduation so this might make me spiral.

This ITSAY mirror moment. Boss Only knows how to make reflective work!

I love making the characters so sticker laden, thats exactly what 2022 felt like and it makes their insecurities starkly apparent when they attempt to cover them with vibrancy.

Google maps mention. So charming to have a show that cares to integrate technology as life.

Actually as springboard thats why i loved the blocking montage from earlier. Nothing is really over until youve released them from your circle and ousted them from your life, and robbing people of the ability to See You online is such a statement of intent even if you end up caving later on in person.

Finding someone on ig using the location tag. Okay this is getting real scurry.

Purposely liking someonee oldest pic to show interest is Nasty FIEND behavior. Run!!!!!!!

The stylization of the chargers just made my eyes well up with tears almost. Its indicative of how gently the production is treating their interior lives, everyones charger is different and vibrant just like their lives and these phones serve as points of contact to each other in more ways than one. Theyre gathered and theyre a Group.

Getting caught eavesdropping and watching through your phone so you pretend to take a photo. #real #beenthere #theyweretakingnotesfromme

Absolutely obsessed over the editing of this show, its as maximalist and overbearing as all feelings are in highschool. Emotions spill out of you at that age and the overbearing nature of them can be as blinding as all that neon and all these fast cuts.

Heard that this was filmed on phone and I love that in some scenes theres a conscious decision to allow it to be Phone Quality.

Chian is such a problem cryingggg

I really love how this show respects that social media is an extension of self for youth, and in doing so how it shows respect to a younger generation. A majority of highschool media now is created by those who had to come of age as technology became accessible without regard to how thats changed. Chian following Fou4mod is framed as a big deal because it is; if its not an exchange of accounts the act of following is never casual. You had to think of the person, find their account, and put yourself in the vulnerable position of being caught thinking of them. Online accounts as a barrier carry a weight thats often dismissed but this story cannot work without allowing this moment to have heft. If a follow is just a follow then situationships (like hes probably about to be in with Chian) cannot work, Chian showed his cards and made Fou4mod feel like he has less to lose because he took such an Important Step. Lesser shows have made fun of that step!

Thats all to say Chian is definitely a problem and he probably needs to get his ass whooped in the near future (^-^;

Chian barely follows anyone... hes true to this life unfortunately. My thoughts are with Fou4mod this is about to be a life altering relationship (Extremely Negative).

The iphone change has been taking me out like highschool really is about being a follower until youve carved an identity.

Watching it put to screen wow social media really did change dating into an intricate ritual bc i audibly groaned when he asked for the air drop... like no u cant be seen caring! Thats bad! We need to save the youth from this reality Every queer person must uninstall hinge now.

CHIAN IS SO SINISTER OMG SAVE FOU4MOD

"I'll let you know" "you can go first" girl i gotta turn this off now im breaking out in hives.

Playlist sharing to flirt... they were watching me edate in HS

I feel strangely emotional after watching that. There is such a dearth of television about the youth of people in mid genz who were in highschool or beginning uni during the pandemic. Every show produced and set in high school recently has been extremely nostalgic, set in a recent past, or almost out of time in a world where social media is not as important and COVID didnt fundamentally change communications and relationships as a whole.

As someone who spent a longer time in highschool than most people do, I dont think I've seen something so insightful since American Vandal. That show understood the slow nature of highschool in the later 2010s, it understood the uncomfortableness that lurks beneath your skin as a teenager and showcased it with that perpetually hazy and lazy filter that the soundcloud rap era felt like.

This show takes the exact opposite approach, COVID made all the teens and kids view technology As Them. A teenager in 2020 and 2021 was their phone because to take that away from them was to cut off any and all outside connection they had, something that was especially true for queer youth who already felt that alienation in their identity. Its lovely to see traces of that put to screen and treated with kindness, and it allows for the aesthetic maximalism to be justified through the sheer desperation they have to Truly Participate in life once again.

Really excited to watch this continue, I think its really funny how instead of ITSAYs longing and self flagellation (which was also extremely late 2010s) gelboys is fast moving and almost refuses to dwindle on their internal worlds so far, these teens just want to be out there doing things. The changed public life for kids directly after the pandemic and before the conservative pendulum swing is such a fun period to explore, I loved this first ep immensely.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

hii could you maybe do kirk hammett x reader who never did "it" before and kirk showing her how and everything?

i love the work you have on ur blog btw, take care! <3

Warnings: smut, virgin reader, unprotected sex, riding, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

You'd been obsessing over Metallica for years and finally you got to go to one of their concerts, right up front. You saw the way the guitarist was looking at you through the whole show, eyeing you up and down, handing you picks.

When the show ended he waited a second, made sure you were looking at him, and gestured for you to head around the stage.

He was there waiting for you and took you back to their buses. "You're leaving tonight?" You said, though it came out as a question. Of course you knew they were leaving, they had a show in a different state the next night.

"You could come." He suggested, how serious he was being you had no idea. "Or you could stay, but I want to kiss you before I go even if that's all I get." He held your hands in a gentle hold, not holding you in place but a silent plead for you to listen and go with him. He took a step closer to you, bringing a hand to your face and cupping your cheek with his bandaged fingers. "Just let me kiss you."

As he leaned in your eyes closed and you returned the kiss when your lips met. His were warm and plush, soft and the kiss was sweet with a hint of bourbon. The hand holding yours let go and went to your hip, pulling you closer.

At that point you didn't need to tell him anything, he had his answer. Despite not wanting to break the kiss he did, just to walk you to his bus and slip you into the back when his room was.

He had you under him, lips connected in a messy, heated kiss. His leg was between yours, pushing into you, forcing you to grind against him. He was pushing into you, bulge straining against his jeans.

A heat was pooling in your core, you wanted this so bad but you had to be honest with him.

You planted your hands on his shoulders and nudged him off of you, he just took it as a sign to go for your neck, leaving a trail of marks down the side, it had your body feeling all kinds of tingly ways.

"Kirk-Kirk, I-I have to tell you something." You sputtered out.

He chuckled. "What, are you married." He asked, hot breath fanning over your neck. When you didn't respond he held himself up to look down at you. "Jesus, are you married?"

You were a little caught off guard by the question but quickly got a grip and shook your head. "No! No, I'm not, I'm not married." You stammered. "I, um, I'm just... a virgin." You said, looking anywhere but him.

Kirk let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Jeez, don't scare me like that." He rolled off of you and flopped over with an airy laugh. He looked at you. "You're serious, though? Like, there was no one else?" You bit your lip and shook your head. Kirk smiled. "So, I'll be the first?" You looked over at him. Were you really doing this?

He went slow, making sure you were comfortable the whole way through as he peeled your clothes off of you and tossed them aside. For every garment he took from you he took one from himself, it wouldn't be fair if only you were naked, plus he could tell you were self-conscious and if the both of you were naked what was there to be embarrassed about?

You were straddling his lap, hovering over his hard-on. You didn't know how big they were supposed to be, Kirk wasn't huge but he wasn't small, and he was very veiny.

"Just look at me." He said, tilting your head up with two fingers under your chin. "And stop worrying so much, I promise it'll feel good." He kissed your forehead, then the tip of your nose before landing on your lips. He'd been littering your face with kisses the whole time and didn't plan on stopping anytime soon.

"It-it won't hurt?" You asked, nervousness evident in your shaky voice.

Kirk shook his head but then paused. "It-it might at the beginning, but you just gotta give it a minute and it'll feel good." You chewed your cheek, still scared but trusting him.

He had his hands on your hips and slowly lowered you down on his cock, looking between your expression, wide eyes and dropped jaw, and where the two of you met, watching as his length disappeared into you further.

He stopped half-way to let you catch your breath. "You're doing great, sweetheart, almost there." He mused, kissing your cheeks. You let out a shaky breath and nodded, sinking down the rest of the way. "See? Not that bad, right?" You shook your head, ignoring the sting between your thighs.

Kirk wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to his chest and resting his head on your shoulder, waiting to let you adjust to him. He rubbed your back with one hand, moving it to your side and down to your hip before snaking it between your bodies and rubbing your clit.

You gasped, a soft moan leaving you. "That's good, right?" He asked, kissing your neck.

"Yes, it-it is." You mumbled, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. He smelled like expensive cologne and cigarettes, the cool metal of the piercing under his lip was a shock to your hot skin, only adding to the pleasure of his kisses, nipping and sucking.

You swallowed thickly and rolled your hips into him, breath catching in your throat. Kirk grinned, staring intently at your pretty cunt. “Here, just hold still and let me do the work.” You hesitated before nodding in agreement.

Kirk thrust up into slow, snapping the last inch in every time just to make you jump. His hands rested on your hips, helping you stay up. As your moans got louder he moved faster, hand coming down to rub your clit, making you jump.

“Fuck! You-you can’t just-mh- fuck-ah.” You stammered between moans, that knot in your stomach getting tighter. “Feels-feels funny.”

Kirk chuckled lowly and nodded, stifling groans. “Good funny?” He waited for you to respond, when you nodded he continued. “Mmh, you’re close, sweetheart.”

“Close?” You repeated in a soft voice. Kirk gave a small nod and wrapped his arms around you again, holding you tighter and lifting you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, body bounces on his with every thrust. “Hah! Oh god, oh fuck!” You whined, clawing at his back.

Kirks groans in your ears were soft and thick like honey, so sweet it made your eyes roll back and your body go limp.

Your moans filled the room as you came, Kirk following short behind and filling you up.

He sat back down, breathing heavy and holding you against him. You hadn’t realized but the bus had already started moving, taking you off to… you had no idea and you didn’t care. You were never one to be spontaneous but this… this felt right.

“Fuck.” Kirk sighed. “Forgot a condom.” He grumbled. He rubbed your back and kissed your temple. “We’ll get you plan B or something at the next time.”

[fictionalcreator]

Yesss it's not just the fact that he left someone outside, it's the fact that Cale is ALONE. Wholly and utterly, without literally ANYONE besides Kim Rok Soo to rely on.

And when he gets out and reunites with Cale and Cale's very soul is shaking like it's about to fracture Roksu offers no excuses. Just lets him in and, in that way, holds him together, saying "I'm sorry."

It's only when Cale calms down a bit and asks "Where were you?" that he explains what happened to the world.

I think we can mix things up with the Soos. Maybe the shenanigans Cale got up to in KRS's body somehow led to them meeting early, before the apocalypse. Lee Soo Hyuk has only ever spent time with Kim Rok Soo (maybe Kim Rok Soo can take control of the body back without fully kicking Cale out? And so sometimes when Cale annoys him he takes control back for petty reasons? Or maybe there was a clear and present danger that made KRS kick him out?) but Choi Jung Soo has spent time with them both, leading him to accept the change slightly more easily.

But of course, he still has sharp senses, and can tell that something strange happened during the Tower, and after Kim Rok Soo left the Tower. He never saw that slightly more elegant and arrogant side to KRS in the Tower. He thought it was understandable, but then...when he got out of the Tower, it's like he flipped.

It's almost like the tower killed a part of him, though he can't articulate this feelings very well. While everyone on the team notices the change, it's Lee Soo Hyuk who feels as strongly about it as Choi Jung Soo.

Still, they can't help but want to protect this guy, a young man who was forged into an extraordinary leader far too quickly, and who has acquired a habit of balancing precariously on high ledges.

There's gotta be something out there amidst the monsters to make it worth cale!KRS's stubbornness in the end. Maybe something like the cintamani? Something that allows them to communicate? Maybe a copy of the holy sword?

Uhhh I don't actually have a lot of new thoughts this time BUT I do have sketches :3

Very quick n dirty! Haven't even come up with a design for Alberu's seals yet, but! It's something! Especially obsessed with the image of Cale's blood-red hair....so vivid that when it cascades over the side of the tower, Choi Han is briefly overtaken by the illusion of someone dumping a bucket of blood from the tower

Rapunzel AU!

Cale has been inside of the tower for his entire life. His hair is long, much longer than his brother's. His brother doesn't have a name. Cale knows they're brothers though- because they both have red hair, even if Brother has short hair and Cale does not.

Ever since Cale was 12, he'd been dreaming of a different world. He went to sleep and woke up as someone named Kim Roksu. This Kim Roksu was not in a similar situation as he was- Kim Roksu wandered the streets and ate food from the floor and hid in the small cabinet in his uncle's house. Kim Roksu was weak and strong.

Kim Roksu is a friend to Cale. When Cale wants to see the outside, he sleeps, and he dreams.

Kim Roksu figured out how to communicate with Cale after several years of simple body swapping.

Somehow, they are similar! They both agree that being trash is the best. Kim Roksu because it's easier being a bad person than a good person, and Cale because Brother won't let him be trashy and he wishes he could throw a fit without Brother punishing him.

"Your brother keeps you in a tower?" Roksu asks when he learns.

"Yeah. Is that weird?"

"Well, I don't know anyone who stays in a tower." Cale kicks a rock on the sidewalk with his barefoot, sending it skidding across the dirt road. "Ow, my toe." Roksu complains blandly.

Sharing a body, they also share the same sensations.

"You barely felt that and you know it."

"Shut up."

"You shut up." Cale retorts. He wants to say more, but he swallows those words and tucks them into his chest.

'The bruise over your eye hurts more but you don't complain about that.'

He bites his lip and looks down.

"Do you think," he asks quietly, "if I asked Brother to let me out, he would?"

Roksu, disembodied and floating over his body, frowns. "You haven't asked before?"

Cale smiles bitterly in Roksu's body. "... I did, once." After, Brother said he was going to be leaving for two weeks, and told Cale to ration his food well. Cale knew better than to think it was a coincidence. He didn't have Roksu yet. It was very lonely for a long time.

Roksu doesn't say anything.

"If," his voice trembles, "If I got out. If I left..."

"Cale." Roksu stops him. Cale winces, expecting to be reprimanded.

"You are trash. Trash does whatever they want, no matter what anyone says. If you want to leave, then leave." Roksu's translucent body floats over to stand in front of Cale. Sternly, he says, "Don't worry about useless things. Worry about making a plan and executing it."

Then, abruptly, Roksu turns and ignores him. Cale laughs and folds in half, a childish grin splitting his malnourished cheeks. How can someone be so blunt but so shy? Kim Roksu frowns, but it looks like a pout. Cale rubs away a tear and looks up at the back of his friend. No, the person who sometimes feels more like a brother to him than his real brother.

"And will you help me?"

Roksu rolls his eyes. "Don't ask something so obvious."

Cale smiles and looks down. "Right. Obvious, isn't it?"

Something like receiving help wasn't obvious to either of them. Yet, when it came to the two of them together, it was the most obvious thing in the world. It wasn't obvious with Brother, who he shared blood with. But Kim Roksu, who was abused and beaten down at every turn, chose to welcome a wandering soul into his body and share everything with him.

'You're the one who shouldn't want to be here,' Kim Roksu said when they first started talking and Cale asked why he didn't try to force Cale out. 'When you're in control, I can relax. Why would I want you to leave? That's so difficult.'

They learned that Kim Roksu really could force Cale out when his uncle kicked Cale, sending Kim Roksu's body sprawling onto the floor, then stomped on his arm so hard they heard a clear snap. For Cale it only hurt for a short moment. Roksu threw him out so fast you could imagine that he had practiced beforehand.

Every day and night, Cale slept to try and enter Roksu's body, check on him, share the pain, but Roksu kicked him out every time. It wasn't until four weeks later that Roksu let Cale back in.

Even that much pain was a lot for being four weeks after the incident, but while Cale was struggling to keep his cool, Roksu floated around him and spoke as if nothing was wrong. When Cale started sweating a few hours later Roksu kicked him out again.

'Don't be stubborn,' he said when Cale returned the next night. 'Just say that it hurts. If you still want to stay after you admit that it hurts then I won't kick you out.'

It was a very Kim Roksu thing to do.

"Brother," Cale asks one day at 15, impatiently brushing his hair. He gets scolded lightly, and Brother takes the brush from him. "I read in a book about something called a phone. Do you have one?"

Brother gives him a blank look. Then, as if it had been a lie, his expression changes into something kind and gentle. "Fone? Can you show me the book?"

Cale and Brother roughly root around in every book for anything like the so-called 'Fone,' coming up short.

"Maybe it was a dream," Cale excuses it like that, rubbing his neck. Brother looks at him, worried.

"It must have been. Get some rest, Cale." A kiss to the top of Cale's head, Brother hugs him and promises to bring him more paint. "I'll be gone for a few days this time. Do you want something?"

"Ah," Cale smiles, pressing his face into his Brothers neck to hide his face. "Could you bring me -------?" Brother freezes.

"... you-"

"I learned it from the books! This time I really did, Brother. Please?"

Slowly, Brother releases the tension in his body. "... If that's what you want. But you have to close the window if you're going to mess around with alcohol."

"Yes!" Cale jumps with joy. Then he suddenly runs to a bookshelf, changing the topic by talking about a book Brother brought to him last time. "-and I'd like to know if the sequel is out yet."

"I'll do that." Brother smiles. "You've been asking for more things recently, Cale." Brother settles a hand on his head, stroking his hair.

"It's because of my reliable older brother!" He grabs onto that hand, keeping it there, resembling a naive little brother who only has his role model in his eyes.

He sends his brother down the tower using his hair, and watches that spot of red disappear in the distance.

His face drops.

"... Bastard."

Cale turns on his foot. It's time to see Roksu.

[majinbangus]

Gotta share these close ups of Soap's fingers. Hope you enjoy

EDIT: need him to grab my wrists like that

His hand looks so fucking big UGH

[tommygotwrittenoff]

bobby says to eddie one shift where buck is home sick with chris. going home to see your boys? eddie smiles and says. yeah. and your boys just Sticks in eddies brain and when he gets home he sees chris and buck curled up on the couch asleep and the sight makes him pause cuz. yeah. those are his boys

[originalcontent]

I can't find art of my ship anywhere so I GUESS that means I have to make it myself, here are some doodles.

[prosebushpatch]

Okay so I recently, finally, watched Wish and I have some thoughts. Overall, not as bad as everyone makes it out to be, but still has a lot of fundamental story problems and I've got to get them off of my chest. I'll mostly be focused on Magnifico because I think his motivations and arc largely represent the problem with the overall theme.

Okay so my biggest problem with Magnifico is his motivation. His tragic backstory. How on earth does he go from losing his whole family to thinking, the only way he can prevent that from happening again is to grant wishes? The logic doesn't track. It almost makes sense in his creating a kingdom where he protects everyone and "doesn't even charge rent," but it does not make sense with his wish granting. Having a great need to be control to make sure he doesn't lose anyone ever again can be a compelling motivation for a villain, where we see lines crossed that don't justify the intent, but in the movie, he's too self-absorbed to seem to have any actual care for the people of Rosas.

I think if the motivation was changed to something like Magnifico had once been a bright-eyed, enthusiastic wish granter who blindly believed all wishes were good but learned the hard way that that wasn't true could have been a better fit for the overall goal of the movie. Imagine that he granted a wish for a wicked person who used that wish to hurt others, or if Magnifico granted a wish but that wish ended up ruining the person's life because what they wanted wasn't what they needed (i.e. Remember The Princess and the Frog? Dig a little deeper) and that person could have went after Magnifico and blamed him for their troubles (harkening back to We Don't Talk about Bruno). This would be an understandable tragic backstory for Magnifico, and better explain why he's so careful about the wishes he grants. And, perhaps the reason he keeps the wishes he doesn't want to grant is to keep the people in his kingdom docile. No one will be angry with him for not granting their wishes if he makes them forget them and lose that drive and motivation, which makes more sense than the unexplained hording them like he does in the movie? Why does he keep them in the movie other than admiring the wishes? It doesn't make sense to me.

This would give Asha more of a reason to oppose him, if it's shown how his desire to not get hurt or to inadvertently cause hurt turned into a paranoia where he drains people of wishes to fly or play music that inspires others. And, as a side note, we need to see more of how Rosas is a kingdom of people who lack drive and motivation, where only those younger than 18 have that special part of them that inspires them to chase after a dream (something that Astor Rhymemaster touched on). Because that's the point of wishes, right? That's the point of the entire Disney canon. A dream is a wish your heart makes. That star can only get you so far, it takes hard work and determination. It's wanting something better in life, it's dreaming of leaving behind all you know to chase after a tangible light. It's finding a new dream, it's finding a new wish as you grow and learn about yourself and the world.

I don't think the movie Wish understood what makes wishes so important in Disney stories. You know what wishes do? They ignite change. It's not about getting what you want, it's about finding the courage to chase after something better. Ariel wants to be where the people are, but really she wants to be somewhere where others are willing to understand her and in the end, she finds that and makes amends with her father, who finally is willing to see her for who she is. Rapunzel wants to see the lights, and that desire pushes her to leave a tower she's been trapped in her whole life, learning that the world is not as cruel and cold as her abusive mother told her. Cinderella wants to go to the ball, to dance with people who treat her as a person and not a servant of cinders and ash. That wish is granted by a fairy godmother and gives her a hope that is worth fighting for, a hope that helps her reclaim what is rightfully hers; a glass slipper that fits only her and the love that comes with it.

Wishes inspire change. The movie should have been about that. Magnifico could have been right, that some wishes inspire negative change that can drag down multiple people. The kingdom of Rosas could have been so placid because change is scary. Maybe Magnifico could have convinced people, after taking their wish, that it wasn't worth it. Maybe the wish ceremonies could have changed so it wasn't portrayed as some sort of lottery everyone looks forward to, but Magnifico would grant wishes on the spot if he decided they were good and worthwhile, and he would lock away the wishes that would cause trouble and tribulations. 18 year olds could be enthusiastic to give him their wishes, thinking they were surely good and worth granting, only to forget their wish and be told that their wish would have only brought about their unhappiness, this would have justified a more solemn tone in the kingdom, setting up a world where people are mostly downtrodden, thinking their wishes are bad and pointless and they're better off without them. Imagine Cinderella or Rapunzel being told their wishes weren't good, reinforcing all the things their abusive families tell them, taking away that hope and courage to find something better for themselves.

Here's where the true conflict could come in. Asha could be onto this from the beginning, and her opening song could have been about this concern that the people who didn't get their wishes granted aren't willing to try at all. (Because, after all, why doesn't Sabino play music at all? Having that taken from him would take so much joy and creative expression from his life!) But why does Asha know something is amiss?

Simon.

Imagine that Magnifico has a strict rule not to ever share your wish with another person because then it wouldn't come true. It makes sense with our own superstitions, and then makes it so that no one knows anyone else's wishes. Maybe your best friend changes so drastically after giving up their wish, but you believe, like everyone else, that their wish would have only caused suffering. What can you do about it? Well what if Simon told Asha about his wish? What if Asha knew his wish wasn't dangerous and couldn't imagine a way that it could go wrong? That would give her a reason to doubt Magnifico and put more emphasis on how Simon has lost his drive like all the other adults in the kingdom. And it can also emphasize in the end that sharing your wishes and dreams with others can be a powerful thing. Just the act of sharing your dreams can inspire others to go after their own, and they can give you the encouragement to chase your wish too. Wishes inspire change, love gives you the courage to make it happen.

Imagine if the star boy used to be a human, who wished to help others and lost his humanity to do it. Imagine his wish confirms Magnifico's belief, that wishes cause suffering because star boy lost his tether to earth and is separated from the people he loves. Imagine how he foils Asha who also wants to grant everyone's wishes. Imagine him ensuring she doesn't make the same mistake he did while she gives him a reason to change again, to anchor himself to humanity again because he loves her enough not to leave for forever.

Imagine the movie confirming that, yes, change is scary. Chasing your dreams won't always make things better. You might fail more than you succeed and some wishes cannot coincide with each other, leading to grief and strife. But some wishes are worth it. Sometimes, chasing after something better and failing is worth leaving a worse situation. Sometimes taking that chance is worth it, and, like in all fairy tales, if you are kind and generous and act with love, that will make all the difference in the end.

Also, I know everyone wished for a Magnifico and Amaya evil power couple, but imagine if Magnifico was truly in love with Amaya, as he is in the movie, but that love is eventually his undoing. Like Amaya leaps in front of Asha, and Magnifico stops or redirects his attack because she's the one thing he loves more than himself and that is the weakness that Asha and co can take advantage of. Imagine Amaya keeping Magnifico in the mirror and he gets to dote on her from his imprisonment for forever. I'm just saying. At least 30 sickos like me would be into that. Imagine the depth it would give to the themes of love and change and wishing and how acts of love make all the difference.

Alright, I'll get off my soap box. I just really wish Wish could have been stronger because these fairy tales Disney is famous for matter. They really do. But the movie feels too stale and shallow and too much of a cash grab that knows the outline of a disney musical, but is unable to understand the heart of why they work.

[blujayonthewing]

gnome culture emphasizes playfulness and a good sense of humor partly because gnomes are physically small and vulnerable and tend to settle in wild places with a lot of hazards and if they had to take every completely real threat to their safety seriously while also Taking Them Seriously they'd just be paralyzed by fear

[actual-corpse]

Just got a rude reminder about how great it is to never have children/ be an only child.

There's too much drama involved with dying, apparently.

[slashersweethearts]

morgchie is such a severe mismatch of freak and it makes me feel so bad for morgan bc 😭 i mean she also thinks so but not in the way that it actually is! bc HER perspective on things Pre Literally Everything From The Moment He Showed Up At The Hospital With Sam Onward was like “damn. richie is so normal. cool of him to put up with me but why the hell is he doing that” and it’s like babygirl. you are a teenager w severe childhood trauma that left you feeling fundamentally shut off from your peers who likes holing up in ur room drawing silly little horror characters. that man is ghostface and he’s evil. YOU are not the worse off one in this r/s 😭

[whysamwhy123]

HALLEJUAH!! I REMEMBERED HOW TO ACTUALLY FINISH WRITING SOMETHING FOR A CHANGE!!

Of course, it's not any of the fics I wanted to finish. I went back to what is essentially my bread-and-butter now and wrote a short-ish, random OrangeHook fluff. But considering how much writing's been a struggle as of late, I'm just glad that I successfully finished something. I was back in one of those stretches where I couldn't seem to write much of anything. And this fic isn't about their age difference or Hook being a cuddlebug, so...progress?

Unless I decide I completely hate it (which is always a possibility) expect something to drop on Valentine's Day, tis the season, after all.

[pinkopalina]

as a huge batjokes shipper i want batman and joker to hate each other in the sense they dont really hate each other, they just have really different goals and see their own version of potential in the other and right now hate is the best word for their situationship. they both love the other for what they could be but neither of them wants to be what the other one wants, and that's equally as frustrating as it is necessary for them to keep existing in their current roles. they're deadlocked and that fate surrounding each other is kind of the point -- we both have to be like this, the opposite of what the other wants, for us to keep existing at all, and for giving me that gift i both love and hate you. it's an agreement. i think the hate that's there now is born from an intense underlying love.

i think batman "hates" joker for being so amazing and smart and cunning, for being able to create grand gestures and schemes, to pull people together under his charisma and make them all believe in something, for being as extraordinary as he is but batman hates that he uses it to hurt people. he hates that joker can't channel his energy into doing something good for the world, that he hurts himself and others just because he wants to be batman's greatest enemy. i think batman wants to help joker but also hates him at this point for joker exhausting him, constantly getting hurt both emotionally and physically by him, joker never trying to improve his situation, throwing away other people's lives, showing batman he loves him by lashing out and hurting him. batman hates joker because he loves his rogues, he wants to help them, and he knows they can do better. he wants to live in a gotham that doesn't need batman but he still needs to be needed, because when there's no batman, what is bruce going to be? without joker, he will continue being batman, but it's an empty crusade. some of my favorite interactions between harvey and bruce are the ones where harvey thanks bruce for "always being there for me, never giving up on me, my very best friend." even with someone like harvey, bruce can still hold onto that hope for his rogues, never give up on them, keep going for them, even if it puts them through the cycle one more time.

i think joker hates batman in the most toxic way possible, but it's still love. i just think he's selfish and doesn't want batman to think about anyone else but him, the same way he operates for batman, but if he must think about other people then joker will make it as amazing as possible! i think he hates batman for wasting his time on ordinary people, people who are so boring that batman claims he has to protect and serve and love them but joker thinks it's all surface-level. batman won't kill joker but he'll leave room for people dying in his crusade. it's a choice he allows, and even if joker knows that's a morally fucked up way to put someone in a box, he doesn't care. batman is the type of person to train himself mentally and physically for decades and dress up in a half-silly-half-menacing costume so that everyone can have an idea about him. batman himself is not normal, and joker knows that and loves that! why is he wasting his time trying to save people that use him, abuse him, don't want him to be the best he can be? i think joker's motivations for loving batman and lashing out as if he hates him lie somewhere in between extreme admiration -- like i truly believe in your cause and that you're the right person to do it, but i'm so angry at you for wasting your time on other people and i'm so hurt and jealous that you choose them over me, just so you can be a hypocrite and let them die if i want them to anyways -- and anger at his hypocrisy -- like it's easy for joker to dedicate himself to chaos and just being in batman's life by putting batman in situations that force him to be a better and better hero, but how can batman sit there and choose and pick what morals he'll uphold and who gets to live and who gets to die?

i want to be your greatest enemy because you are the greatest hero ever, and the only way you and i can keep being the best at what we do is if we do it together, because of what we both believe in.

[spicypussywave]

kongart and kanghansailom are the same. just in different fonts

arthit, kang - bully kong, sailom - victim. uses homosexuality against them

arthit, sailom - repressed queers, lack of pda kong, kang - "what is shame?"

kong, kang - flirts everytime they can arthit, sailom - flustered but plays cool

kong, sailom - fell first (at a random first meet arthit, kang - fell harder (doesn't remember first meeting

arthit, kang - bi/pan (most probably bisexuals kong, sailom - gay

arthit, sailom - successful tutors kong, kang - obedient students + "rewards? 🥺"

kong, kang - rich arthit, sailom - not rich,

kong, kang - can't handle spice (losers

both pairs role play (real)

both shows had p'lit as one of the directors

[capriszn]

almost every cdrama i‘ve watched could have been a 10/10 if it wasn’t for those last ten minutes packed with the entire finale like every single one without fail got that rushed ending…. why do they keep doing this to me stop

[angstflavoured]

me shaking trying not to make every characters teeth so incredibly noticeably yellow