#it's so weird and confusing and its Right

[ruruumin]

take my body back.

₊˚ ᗢ itoshi rin x childhood friend! fem! reader.

⤷ swapping bodies with isagi was not on his things to do, but loving you is.

this might have been either the worst thing imaginable, or the most humiliating. he is looking at himself in the mirror, eyes twitching. he brings up one hand to pull down the underside of his lower eyelashes. 

after crashing into each other during a practice game, isagi and rin had mysteriously swapped bodies. with stifled laughter from the rest of their team, they had to stay within the same infirmary until things settled down. ego chalked it up to being a very rare malfunction in their suits. while he works on a solution with anri, the two were dismissed from practices all together.

isagi was the more panicky of the two. he was looking at himself frantically in the mirror, shaking bachira by the shoulder in a frenzy. he couldn’t go home. not like this, he kept saying. even though isagi’s wish of being taller and physically stronger, he did not mean he wanted to be in rin’s body.

“what is so wrong with my body?” rin asks, albeit in isagi’s voice, coming off higher pitched and squeakier to his ears. 

“nothing!” isagi instantly shuts his mouth. he raises both of his hands, waving them around as he looks in all sorts of directions. being in the wrong body felt so weird. hearing rin’s voice come off as shy and embarrassed was the last thing on bachira and nagi’s bucket list. and god did they take pleasure out of their torment.

“its just that—how are we supposed to go back to our normal lives like this?” he confesses, scratching the back of his neck, “if i show up to my moms doorstep she’ll get the wrong idea!”

rin blinks slowly, a dull look casting over isagi’s body. “stop making such a big deal out of it. it’ll be fixed soon.” throwing a towel over his shoulder, rin is about to leave the locker rooms (in his body) before isagi reaches out to stop him.

“what about your girlfriend, what is she going to say?”

now this is the unfortunate reality. 

he has no idea how you will react to him going back home in a completely different body. and although you knew isagi in passing, he can’t just show up to your shared apartment like this. its a sick and cruel joke, he thought to himself. rin glances over to isagi with a hardened gaze.

him and his six foot body, long lower eyelashes and scowl are now being flipped inside out and upside down. seeing it as a different person and not just a reflection confuses him on unimaginable levels.

whatever he’s suggests next comes off like acid on his tongue.

.☘︎ ݁˖

you are shocked when you open the door. seeing two men, one of which is your boyfriend, and the other his rival, with opposite expressions. isagi is staring at you with a deep grimace while rin looks happy and relieved to see you. 

“let us in.” isagi, no, rin commands. 

“why is isagi here?” you ask, pressing your lips together as you step to the side. they shuffled out of their shoes, dropping them next to the cubby beside the door. “you should have told me if we were going to have guests over, i would have tidied up a little.”

rin’s eyes scans over your figure. you were wearing a plain t shirt and shorts, your hair was a bit of a frazzled mess, a clear sign that you had just woken up from your nap. he has half a heart to hug you right then and there, but touching you in isagi’s body is going to feel like poison. 

to his horror, you’re by isagi’s side, helping him take off his jacket. rin immediately reaches over to stop you, giving you a deadly glare.

“don’t touch him.” he warns.

this leads you to push him off to the side, frowning. “what are you doing?” in an accusatory tone, you peel off the jacket, “what has gotten into you, isagi? you used to be so polite.” 

“a-ah, well-” isagi bashfully looks away, “the thing is, i’m actually not rin.” 

“huh?”

rin pushes isagi away from you (god forbid he touches you in isagi’s body), huffing as he does so. feeling his chest through isagi’s hands is horrifically gross and he swears he will rip ego in half if he doesn’t find a solution quickly. 

after some short but confusing explanation from isagi, the two of them were seated on the couch while you stood over them. with a hand on your hip, you mumble something underneath your lips, trying to wrap your head around the strange phenomenon. 

“so my boyfriend is in...your body,” you point at rin’s body, dragging it over to isagi, “and you’re in rin’s body.” 

“that’s what we’re trying to tell you.” 

you flick rin’s forehead, causing him to deliver a sharp exhale, “this is your fault for not being more careful during practice matches. what happened to taking care of yourself? did it go in one ear and out the other?”

“of course not,” he huffs, brushing through his hair but noticing how much shorter it is now that he isn’t in his actual body. 

“this idiot over here was the one who got the yellow card.” 

“huh?”

isagi shoves a finger at rin, “you’re the one who rammed into me!” 

“can it!” 

the two of them start to bicker with one another. as serious as a head injury might be, you’re honestly flabbergasted seeing them together like this. it almost cracks a smile on your face when you see rin’s body soften. but you awkwardly clear your throat, breaking up the argument with a sigh.

“do you need a place to stay for the night?” you turn to isagi, “we can give you the couch to sleep on if you’re not comfortable going home right now. i think its the least i can do since rin has been so much trouble for you.”

before the man could protest at your words, isagi beamed with happiness and relief, “that would be great (name). i don’t want to overstay my welcome so i’ll leave tomorrow morning to see ego.”

“i can’t believe my rin rin can look this peaceful,” you say, swooning a little bit. 

“shut up,” rin claps a hand over your mouth, “all this nonsense is making me tired.” 

despite his harsh and seemingly cold words, you can read him too easily. the subtle touch on your shoulder is enough for you to decipher his wants, and what he wants right now is to unravel in your arms.

placing a hand on his lower bicep, you guide him into your shared bedroom, not before waving to isagi to tell him that you will fetch a warm blanket later. he nods and gives you few kind words. it makes you want to laugh at how obvious it was that they swapped bodies. rin can be polite to you, but never this polite. it makes the situation all the more entertaining when you feel your boyfriend drag you into your rooms.

away from isagi’s prying eyes, he is leaning his head against your shoulder, slowly exhaling. his chest moves up and down, shoulders racking down with shivers. you bring up one hand to pat him on the back, pulling him down from cloud nine. anymore of your warmth and he thinks he is about to sink into you. he has to hold back the urge to squeeze you because the body he is in is not his. 

its killing him inside how he wants to love you. 

you, his childhood friend and biggest fan, his light and first (possibly only) love. standing so cute and comfortable in front of him with eyes so warm it could melt his cold, popsicle-self into a pool of sticky wetness. he doesn’t mind that you aren’t dressed up. he thinks its even better, seeing you like this.

he doesn’t like how much shorter he is now. he used to be able to press a kiss on the top of your head with ease. now he’s...fun-sized, as he would put it. he lacks the arm muscles hes so used to having. he doesn’t have the confident suave he was born with (something you’ve always told was a birthright of the itoshi family).

it could have been worse, he tells himself. imagine he swapped bodies with igaguri or shidou. he would have thrown himself into the nearest river if he had to come home to you in shidou’s body. the thought alone makes him want to gag.

but with you in his arms, it makes his heart grow bigger. like the christmas grinch, he has finally found his happiness and the whimsical joys that come from being your boyfriend. its seriously killing him inside, he wants to kiss you with his own lips, hold you with his own arms, and carry you off into the distance in his body. 

you wipe away a string of tears that dribble down his cheek. he didn’t realize he was crying until he heard your gentle whispers. even though he no longer looks like sae, he misses his own body. he yearns to see the scowl on his face that he has grown to slowly love, only because you kept pressing kisses to his cheeks and dimples. he wants to see his hands on your hips, lifting you off the ground and onto the kitchen counters to hold you even closer to his chest, to kiss you at the same height.

he didn’t realize how much he has taken for granted until he was in someone else’s shoes. 

when you brush his, or isagi’s hair, he just wishes he could turn back the clock and kiss you stupid. steal the air from your lungs that he swore belongs to him, and him only. 

that night might have been the most strangest yet sweetest experience in the world. with isagi taking the couch and you and rin sleeping on the ground next to him (he didn’t want to sleep in an empty bed without you, and vise versa, he promises he wouldn’t let you be alone as long as he was here). 

hes holding onto your hand with his pinky, a subtle touch that sends warmth down his spine. even in a different body, you still love him.

and he loves you, so much that it hurts.

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

There's a present under the Christmas tree that wasn't there two hours ago. 

It makes Tommy stand stiff as a poker in the doorway of his own living room, his mind full of possible break-in scenarios. However, the typical signs are missing. No ripped-out drawers, no shattered glass; and what burglar would bring instead of taking something? The somewhat sad little tree, which Tommy didn't actually want to put up in the first place but then did because it's Christmas after all, seems to shine a little brighter thanks to the present. 

Carefully, he approaches the tree under whose green branches the box lies. Its red wrapping, decorated with little Christmas trees, is reflected in the equally red and shiny Christmas baubles. Of course, there’s only one way to how the present got under the tree, only one person who’d be able to do it. Buck still has a key to Tommy's house. He hasn't been in touch since the break-up, and Tommy has missed the perfect time where you presumably ask for the things that the other person still has in their possession. 

The little red box bears Evan’s signature so much, it hurts. It is not particularly carefully packaged, although you can see he's made an effort. Instead of just buying a box, he has wrapped whatever is in the parcel in wrapping paper. It’s wrinkled, the small trees on it are uneven. Tommy can almost see it: Evan sitting at his kitchen table, his tongue between his half-open lips, concentrated in a tangle of adhesive tape. A man with such skillful hands, yet he simply can’t coordinate them. Hands that save lives but fail when cutting paper. Opposites that are downright confusing - and yet so attractive. 

Tommy lets out a sigh that echoes off the walls of his room, as if his own house is mocking him for his self-inflicted loneliness. He holds the small gift in his hands and wonders whether he should really open it. What’s the intention behind it? Why give him a present? The truth is, Evan had gifted him with his mere presence, probably without even knowing it. Getting that back would be a far greater gift than whatever may be in this box. 

The only problem is that he believes he doesn't deserve either. 

Tommy carefully pulls on the adhesive strip, runs a finger beneath the paper and very gently removes it. There is a plain white box underneath. Maybe it was a spontaneous idea to wrap it, but then why go to all the trouble for an undertaking that Evan also knows he hardly has mastered? Tommy's thoughts are on a rollercoaster, a constant up and down, and every steep descent causes tingles in his guts. 

Tommy shakes the box. There’s a soft tinkling sound inside, metal scraping against the cardboard of the box. He turns the box over in his hands, looks at it from all sides, but he is only delaying the inevitable, and he knows it. Opening the lid feels like tearing off a band-aid. Inside is a folded note on a layer of tissue, as green as the little trees on the wrapping paper, but not as green as the branches of  Tommy’s Christmas tree. Green as hope, maybe. 

Tommy,

I still see a future. E. 

Tommy stares at the note, his eyes actually looking right through it, far away; back to a time perhaps when he was less afraid. His fingers carefully feel their way over the tissue in the box. There’s still time to put aside the message, the box, the hope. Maybe he's too much of a coward for that, too. Tommy reaches under the paper, lifts it out of the box and tosses it aside. It gently slides under the tree, almost exactly where the present was. A sign, or not; everything is a sign or it isn’t. 

There’s a key in the box.

That’s not the key to Tommy’s house. Even if it would have been a weird way to return it like this, his deceptive heart feared just that for a moment. But it's also not the key to Evans Loft, because Tommy didn't give it back either. Silly, that they both had clung to this symbols so much. So, it’s neither his key nor Evan’s, and it only takes a quickening heartbeat longer for Tommy to realize. It really is a symbol, this key. One that not only relies on Tommy's curiosity, but also trusts that he will rise to the occasion. 

Suddenly, his phone is in his hands.

This the key to your heart, Evan? 

Bating his breath, he’s waiting for an answer.  

[moociaoafterdark]

The last post was a rhetorical question, but, glad you guys want to hear me out!

Anyway, the Imperial Palace is haunted. "Haunted".

Surely, there are no such things as ghosts, right?

Except, when the Raven Guard Astartes began to report things disappearing when you don't look at them and also seeing pale ghostly figure stalking the hallways, people began to tense up, even though some just brushed it off as them confusing a ghost for one of their own. When the Custodes began to back up the Raven Guard's claims, the Primarchs got involved.

So, the main ghost hunting squad consists of Horus, Sanguinius, Corvus and Alpharius (and Omegon, but, shh). If we assign them the "Mystery Gang" roles, then Horus is Fred, Sanguinius is Daphne, Corvus is Velma and Alpharius is either Shaggy and Omegon is Scooby, or it's the other way around. No one notices the changes anyway.

A lot of their methods include things like a ouija board (from which they learned many interesting things about the ghost, particularly how many pickles it can shove up its ass), asking the ghost questions in the dark room, taunting the ghost (and screaming like little girls when the ghost retaliates), using a radio to try to communicate with it... That kind of stuff. A lot of the times, Corvus tries to negotiate with the ghost by offering Horus a sacrifice, much to Sanguinius' annoyance. Surprisingly, Horus doesn't really mind becoming a sacrifice (he thinks he can fight the ghost off) (he can't do shit). Alpharius and Omegon are both amused, however they initially didn't take the hauntings seriously. As time went on, though, they slowly started to plan their way out of the group.

The gang then turned to Lorgar for help. Their research led them to find out that numerous religions, in the past, had ways to ward off ghosts. Perhaps Lorgar can do something? Lorgar decided that a religious sacrifice could potentially pacify the paranormal ("No, Corvus, we are not sacrificing Horus"). He ordered Alpharius and Omegon to find and bring a small animal that they could sacrifice, while Lorgar prepared the salt, the candles and the prayers. Alpharius brought a little white rabbit from the Palace's kitchen. Sanguinius was sad to see such cutie get sacrificed, he made sure to give that rabbit some pats before the ritual. When the right time came, the Primarchs, all 6 of them now, stood in the circle made out of salt, in the room that was pitch black safe for some lit candles. Lorgar read the prayers and tried to stab the rabbit in order to kill it. The dagger, instead, bent to the side, as if the animal was made out of steel. The white rabbit then became possessed and jumped onto Alpharius, trying to bite through his helmet... And almost succeeding, had Sanguinius not grabbed and tossed the vermin out from the circle. Despite being tossed by a Primarch with full force, the rabbit didn't even break a sweat, instead preparing to pounce on its next victim. Thankfully it was put down by Horus and a couple of shots from his bolter pistol that he thankfully brought with himself. The killer rabbit was dead and Lorgar felt despair. Why didn't his faith in their father stop the malicious presence? He will make that ghost pay! Feeling wronged, he joins the ghost hunting squad and helps keep the group together and to coordinate the rituals.

Magnus thinks he can crack the case himself. He gets the photo evidence of paranormal activity, however, his recording skills are subpar. The photos and videos are blurry as fuck, as if Magnus covered the lense with a thick coat of vaseline beforehand. No one believes him or takes his evidence as, well, actual evidence... Except Jaghatai. His bike has been acting weird lately. Sometimes it turns on all by itself, drives itself for a good distance, sometimes it refuses to turn on, or strange things pop out on the display. Something is messing with his bike and the Great Khan is REALLY pissed at this. And, so far, he only trusts Magnus with this, so, they become a ghost hunting duo. Through the series of unfortunate events, the two have to race away from the pissed off ghost, with Magnus clinging onto Jagh and yelling "DRIVE FASTER, I'M SCARED".

The ghost also visited the Night Haunter himself. When Konrad realized he had an intruder he looked at the ghost, who decided to appear to him as a demonic looking old woman, taller than Konrad himself. Their eyes locked together and Konrad just... smiled, his rotting teeth revealed by a wide grin. He and the Night Lords were never bothered by the ghost again after that.

When news reached Roboute of what was happening in the Imperial Palace, he just made a shocked face and went "Oh no... Anyway!" and then went back to drinking the finest of wines you could find on Ultramar, while basking under Macragge's sun. Jackass.

Ferrus and Rogal were both working on the project together and didn't even notice the ghost. At some point, the ghost became a third participant: holding a hammer or shinning a light where it was needed. When Ferrus and Rogal realized what was happening, they just... Went back to work and continued to exploit the ghost. They would never say no to free labour.

[writteninthebinds]

Teach Me

A Jayvik fic - part two

Word-count: 2256

Summary: Jayce teaches Viktor how to dance. Things get a little heated.

Warnings: This is pretty tame. A little nsfw dialogue at the end that alludes to part three.

Notes: I really love this. This is technically part two but you can read it on its own. You can find and read part one on my page. I didn’t put near the same amount of effort into part one, so I might even go back and update it sometime soon. I’ll create a list where you can find them all together too. It’s currently 5am, haven’t slept and I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t post this now, so I apologize if there’s mistakes lol. I’ll edit them when I wake up again. 🫶🏼 you guys.

“Oh, but there is no music,” Viktor musters with pause, like a last-minute thought. Like he didn’t fully think through asking Jayce to teach him how to dance. Here, alone, in his room for the night. Viktor stands towards the end of the large king-sized bed, navy-colored sheets with gold stitching. His cane is tucked into his side, eyes on Jayce, who’s still standing in front of the double doors leading to the balcony.

Jayce is luminated from behind. The glow of the party lanterns below casting warm shadows into the night sky and their -  Viktor’s room.

“We shouldn’t need any,” Jayce promises as he steps further in. He’s still taking in the room, the colors and warm ambient lighting, when he focuses back on Viktor. For a split second, he stands there looking unsure, doubtful or perhaps even regretful for asking Jayce.

Something akin to dedication and reverence rakes its way across Jayce’s bones. Deep in his marrow. He wants to erase any trace of unease from Viktor’s body and mind.

Taking a few long strides, Jayce moves to a small coffee table in the room. Sly smirk painted across his lips, hands already deep within his pockets, searching, he says, “You get the steps right, I give you more of these.”

Confusion clouds Viktor’s face. Eyebrow quirked, nose slightly scrunched, until he looks down. Jayce litters the tabletop with sweets. The same candy he stole earlier. Viktor’s favorite. A laugh is shoved from Viktor’s chest as handfuls are dropped. He watches in awe, in surprise. Jayce can’t tell which, though he decides right then and there that he’ll do anything to keep that look of wonder and mischief on Vik’s face.

“Jayce.”

Viktor laces his name with muted laughter and accusation, really failing to look upset in the slightest. 

“Don't. Don’t give me that. You’re lucky I didn’t grab the crystal dish they were sitting in. Would’ve been easier to carry all night. Been weighing down my pockets,” Jayce rambles.

Set ablaze from the joy on Viktor’s face, he’s moving faster again, not overthinking every move. He gets excited. Jayce knows this. His words and actions speed up, excitement bubbling in his chest. Enhanced by Viktor.

He's still going, Jayce. Still talking, still moving, until a slight breeze pours cool air down his back. It’s then Jayce pauses. His suit jacket is already halfway down his arms, resting in the crooks of his elbows. He wasn’t thinking. Why would he take off his jacket just to dance? Is it weird? Does Viktor think so?

No.

Jayce watches as Viktor stands there rolling up his own sleeves so causally. He doesn’t stop, still folding the fabric. He only looks up at Jayce when he’s been quite for a little too long. And Viktor just smiles. Easy and cool. Like a lazy creek. It soothes Jayce, like the most expensive balm one could buy.

“Alright,” Jayce explains as he shucks off his jacket the rest of the way, “the Waltz. It’s a simple box step.”

He closes the distance between them. His nerves are only settled for so long, until he comes to stand in front of Viktor. Until he realizes, they both can’t lead.

A smug smile tugs at the corner of Viktor’s mouth. He doesn’t wait for Jayce to voice what he can clearly read written on his face. Confident as always, he grabs Jayce’s hands. Hosting their right and left into the air, clasped together, and guiding Jayce’s right to his back. Viktor whispers, “You lead. I will follow.”

That stirs something within Jayce. Deep in his gut. A pit buried and nestled behind his belly button, and Viktor’s dipping his fucking fingers in.

He feels the back brace beneath Viktor’s black shirt, firm under his open palm. Jayce wants more. To feel more. He looks good in black. Fuck.

The feeling of Viktor’s hand coming to a rest on his shoulder shakes Jayce from his thoughts.

“We’re essentially mirroring one another’s steps, in the shape of a box. Each step is a corner,” Jayce describes. His hands are still on Viktor when he realizes he probably should’ve shown him the steps first, with more space between them. He steps away to demonstrate.

They walk through it slowly. One step at a time. Apart and then together again. Jayce gets lost. It might look like he’s letting Viktor work through the stumbling steps on his own, but no, he’s just lost. In Viktor.

Jayce in time relaxes. His right hand splays broader on Viktor’s back, covering so much space. His thumb trailing the line of his spine through the brace. He wants to feel skin. Their palms are slick with sweat, Viktor’s fingers tightening against his hand and shoulder with each misstep.

“Viktor,” Jayce speaks, “eyes on me.”

Instantly Viktor is there, grip still tight and honey amber eyes fixed on his face with determination. A bit of annoyance. Jayce smiles softly. He finds it endearing. Viktor’s intent to learn. Though now Viktor doesn’t respond, doesn’t return to the steps either.

A beat of silence. Then –

“How do you suppose I learn if I am not looking?” Viktor sputters, frustration etched into his features like Jayce asked him for something impossible. It only fuels Jayce’s adoration. Laughing, he pulls away gently, fingertips lingering, and walks over to the small table.

“You’ve done exceptional,” Jayce says as he swipes two pieces of chocolate. He walks back over to Viktor, unwrapping the fudge himself and holding the foil flat for Viktor to pick off of. Even more melted than before, fudge and peanut butter coat the foil, smudging their skin.

“The only exceptional thing I’ve achieved is not breaking any of your toes,” Viktor muses. Joking, but still frustrated. Viktor finishes eating, slipping his thumb into his mouth, ridding it of any left-over fudge.

Jayce finishes his own, tucking the trash into his pocket to deal with later. Busying himself, Jayce stares at Viktor’s feet, partly thinking and partly looking anywhere else that is not Viktor’s mouth. He replays the steps in his mind, imagines Viktor’s brace. Even though he can’t see it now he remembers its design, the mechanics.

While he didn’t lie to Viktor at all, he can understand the hiccups due to the brace. The small steps forward aren’t so much the issue as the side steps and going backwards. Viktor’s leg brace was built for stability. Rigid and sturdy, not for flowing movements. Counterbalancing his weight without his cane is also new.

“Take off your shoes,” Jayce declares. It stops Viktor mid sentence, going on again about Ms. Ellis and when she’ll notice the missing bowl of sweets. He stands there frozen and perplexed. Jayce doesn’t give him a chance to question.

He kicks off his own, and then drops to his knees. Jayce slips the ties of Viktor’s dress shoes loose easily, letting him hold onto his shoulder as his heels slide out.

Perhaps the chocolate has gone to Jayce’s head.

“Now what?” Viktor ask once their both standing again, facing each other, amusement and sarcasm replacing his confusion. They’re both in their socks. Feet sinking into the plush carpet, Jayce takes a step forward, and another.

“Wanted to try something. You’re gonna have to be closer this time though,” Jayce explains. He crowds into Viktor’s space. His right hand reaching forward with confidence, with the excuse that it’s for the dance. Viktor doesn’t hesitate, slipping back into the familiar stance. Until -

“Now, place your feet onto mine,” Jayce explains.

Now Viktor hesitates.

Looking up from the floor, amber eyes on hazel, Viktor says nothing. He just looks at Jayce intently. A moment passes, thick with tension. And in another moment, Viktor drops their clasped hands, grabbing Jayce’s other shoulder.

It shouldn’t be as intimate as it feels. The soft arch of his feet. A shutter shouldn’t rack its way down Jayce’s body as Viktor’s sock covered feet slide onto his.

It’s closer than Jayce thought. Both of Viktor’s hands now rest higher up Jayce’s shoulders. Instinctively, his left found Viktor’s waist, holding him steady as he found his balance and a comfortable position. Just as he settles, looking back to Jayce directly, soft music drifts in from the balcony. The party outside.

Jayce nearly forgot. The sea of people outside, mingling and some dancing themselves. Though Jayce would never trade spots with any of them. Money, power, spotlight. He’s content here. Alone with Viktor, in the sanctity of this room. A new song begins downstairs. Jayce’s cue to start moving.

He moves with a little more effort, the weight of Viktor comforting more than anything though. Gliding across the carpet Jayce starts with a formal Waltz. Poised and perfect. Long strides. He even adds in the turns. He wants Viktor to feel it, the grace of a Waltz you’d perform in front of the eyes of those downstairs.

But here, with Viktor, he shortens his steps soon. Because that is not them. He doesn’t feel the pressure to be perfect in Viktor’s arms. They’re more than fancy parties and the “right way” to dance. He wants Viktor to know he can have it all, that Jayce will show him everything, but that most of all, any way is perfect as long as it’s them. Together.

Before long, they’re simply turning softly, swaying. Moves Viktor could easily do and yet his feet never leave Jayce’s.

“Thank you,” Viktor breathes. The words are spoken lowly enough between them that Jayce barely registers it. Lost again. Jayce hums in response. He can’t do words at the moment.

Viktor’s body has drifted even closer. Jayce thinks if he takes a deep enough breath, their chests might brush together. But right now, it’s Viktor’s hands. Venturing from his shoulders to the nape of his neck, Viktor’s fingers graze against the longer strands of Jayce’s grown out hair. It sends goosebumps erupting, racing across his skin.

“What may I do for you in return? For all of this, tonight?” Viktor ask, his voice different now. Still sweet, still rich, but lower. Jayce understands right then that Viktor reminds him of syrup. His voice specifically. Aged and pure. Sticky sweet and slow. Thick and consuming.

Jayce smiles, responds, “The fudge, remember?”

“No,” Viktor muses, “something else.”

“Teach me something.”

Jayce can’t even regret it, once it’s past his lips and out of his mouth. Words thrown out like a curveball in slow motion. He meant it sincerely. Jayce taught him something, why not offer the same in return?

It came out heavy though. Flirty. Loaded with innuendo due to the slight draw of Jayce’s voice now.

“Like what?” Viktor inquires. It’s this moment Viktor’s fingers, warm and soft, fully slide into Jayce’s hair at the base of his skull. Jayce bites his tongue, and everything he wants to say back.

How to touch you. How to kiss you. How to ask for that from you. Fuck.

Jayce says nothing. He knows though. Viktor knows. Has always been able to read Jayce’s thoughts. Can read it all over his face too, and in the steel look in his eyes.

There is only a beat, soft, before Viktor’s grip tightens in his hair, ripping a gasp from Jayce.

Before he can breathe in again, Viktor’s mouth finds his. Warm. Soft. Their chest fully pressed together now. Jayce’s lungs burn for a full breath, but he doesn’t relent. Neither of them do. He only needs Viktor. To breathe him in.

His arms wrap fully around Viktor’s waist, pulling him in tighter, hands roaming his back now. Their tongues meet and that pit in Jayce’s belly turns molten. A sound Jayce doesn’t want to admit to escapes as Viktor brings a hand around to his face, nails scrapping through his bread. They break apart.

“Jayce,” Viktor rasp.

Jayce doesn’t give him a chance. Driven by need and Viktor’s wrecked tone. Knowing he made him sound like that, he dives back in, erasing the smile from Viktor’s face. Jayce licks behind his teeth, tasting champagne and chocolate, and just - Viktor.

Viktor’s nails scratch his jaw again, venturing lower. His other hand still drags through Jayce’s hair. Things become slower. Hands still roaming, squeezing, pulling. They stand still though. No longer swaying, Jayce’s feet are going numb and tingly beneath them, and he couldn’t care less.

Languid strokes of their tongues draw out more and more sounds. Jayce is distracted. Drowning and loving it. Drinking Viktor in by the lungful. It’s why he doesn’t see it coming.

Another tight grip in his hair, accompanied this time by Viktor’s other hand wrapped around his throat too, squeezing as Viktor sinks his teeth into Jayce’s bottom lip.

“I – unnf.”

Jayce groans, best he can with the way Viktor has his neck cranked back, fingers tightening around his throat.

“Tell me, Jayce. Tell me what you want to learn,” Viktor all but purrs.

He leans in, not going back to fully kissing him but licking across and into Jayce’s open mouth. Like he can’t stop himself either. Like Viktor, too, is fueled by desire, too hungry to wait for a response.

Jayce is weak. Weak when it comes to Viktor. Viktor’s wet mouth and hard touch. He sticks his own tongue out, meeting anywhere Viktor will allow him a taste. He only answers when Viktor pulls back once again.

He pants like a dog. Whines, only a little.

“Teach me how to suck cock.”

[kaiyunsim]

wishful winter —

pairing : childhood bestfriend!woonhak x gn!reader (no pronouns used)

summary : woonhak has always had a crush on you. he wants to confess to you with an upcoming christmas party coming up but is too scared that it’ll ruin your relationship you guys have now.

warnings : fluff, pining woonhak (who is also kinda dumb), jaehyun as a friend,

a/n : what happens when you have a crush on your ult bias… make a fic !! (ily woonhak) also stream wishful winter for christmas !

queueing… wishful winter - nct wish, santa baby - laufey, say it back - peach luffe

— not proof read — wc : 1.9k —

woonhak is always a very loud and talkative person. after all, being the youngest in his friend group always has its perks, and it makes woonhak known as the loud, cute one in all of school.

you’re in the same group as him, harboring the same group of friends, but you and woonhak are practically inseparable as you two grew up with eachother since you could remember. the group often associates you both as twins, like siblings from another mother. and of course, woonhak had a big, fat crush on you.

your families have their annual christmas party coming up and it’s the most exciting time of the year for the both of you. in the past years, you guys have exchanged gifts, planned events, and even planned games. one year, woonhak lost and got flour all over his face which is now a memory you always bring up every year.

while at school on the day of the planned party, you walk over to the table where everyone usually meets and immediately gets greeted with the same, adorable smirk woonhak gives.

“y/n!” he yells, not doing so on purpose but forgets they are actually in school.

you playfully push his aside, sitting next to him. “move aside, woonagi” you tease him, it’s the name the other friends gave him but you thought it was such a cute name especially since woonhak was the baby of the group.

woonhak just responds with a sarcastic eye roll before going back to eating his food. jaehyun, one of your friends, looks at both of you with his mouth wide open, “you’re actually joking,” he says, the surprised expression not leaving his face, “woonhak, why do you get mad at us when we call you woonagi, but when y/n does it you literally don’t care” jaehyun exclaims bitterly. it was mostly a joke but jaehyun did want to know why woonhak didn’t react much to you.

you look at jaehyun with his jealous gaze, “woonagi just loves me more than you” you say playfully, sticking your tounge out at jaehyun. another one of your friends, leehan, laughs at jaehyuns defeat. woonhak is left quiet and a light blush now apparent on his cheeks.

you notice the slight redness on woonhak’s face and combine it with the sudden quiet attidude fron the usually-loud woonhak you know to come to the conclusion to one thing. he’s sick.

it’s not weird to be sick at this time, especially since it’s the winter time but either way, you place a hand on his forehead to check his temperature. it’s slightly hotter than normal seeing more red appear on his face.

in woonhak’s mind he’s trying to battle breaking all together. his heart racing and mind going everywhere and nowhere at the same time from you taking care of him.

you sweep some stray hairs out of his bangs, “take care of yourself, you look like you just woke up” you laugh before finishing up your food.

as if woonhak could blush more, he looked very red. it was a good thing you were focused on your food and not on him or else the embarassment would be too much to handle. eventually, he’s able to calm down and lunchtime came to an end everyone starts parting ways to their final classes.

before either of you leave, you nudge woonhak once again. “i’ll see you later?” you ask. he looks confused. the dots aren’t connecting in his mind while looking at you. you laugh at his forgetful state right now, “the christmas party?” you remind him. “oh yeah” he remembers, he scratches the back of his head from ebarassment. “jeez woonagi, you’re so clueless sometimes, good thing you have me” you giggle as you walk off to your class.

woonhak stands there a moment, heart racing once again. in fact, literally anything you would do would make it race, and he didn’t know what to do or how to react. of course he wants to tell you but isn’t sure if you would like him back and is scared to ruin the close bond you guys have already.

after school ends, woonhak heads home, hoping to sort out his feelings before meeting up with you again before the party. he goes to the one person he knows, or thinks that he knows, some good dating advice. his hyung, myung jaehyun.

—

now woonhak is standing in front of jaehyun’s home as the night shrouded him in darkness. he was suited in the cute black bubble jacket you got him last christmas which is also matching with yours. woonhak knocks on the door of jaehyun, desperate for any advice his hyung can provide.

jaehyun answers the door. he’s wearing some cute christmas pyjamas. he’s wiping his eye, looking like he just woke up from a nap. “ever heard of texting, woonhak?” he asks, somewhat annoyed that he was disturbed from his nap but shortly realizes that it’s the youngest so he lets it pass.

“i called you so many times, hyung” he says. woonhak lets himself in, going past the sleepy jaehyun who is checking his call receipts to see that woonhak did, indeed, call him exactly 7 times. “jesus i guess i’m a deep sleeper” jaehyun comments quietly to himself.

“why are you here, woonagi?” jaehyun asks while trying to tease the young boy, “you’re going to be late for your christmas party with y/n” he continues. he boils some hot water for hot chocolate for woonhak.

“quit it with the name, hyung” woonhak scoffs, clearly annoyed. “i’m here to ask you about something”

jaehyun looks slightly worried, “you never come to me for anything, i’m kinda scared.” he pours out the hot chocolate and gives it to the young boy. “you’re not dying. are you?” he jokes lightly.

woonhak accepts the hot cup, using it to warm his hands, “no, idiot. it’s about y/n” woonhak confesses.

jaehyun’s serious expression immediately falters and gets replaced with one of teasing. “ohh, i knew it! what did they do this time? smile at you? breathe in your direction?” jaehyun says, smile getting wider and voice getting more teasing every question.

“can you be seious for once?” woonhak sighs, tired of all the teasing he’s being bombarded with. he sounds more serious, “listen, i don’t know if they like me or are just being friendly…” woonhak says, just speaking his mind out, sipping the hot chocolate.

the hyung rolls his eyes, looking done with the younger’s lovesick problems. “okay but why does it matter? just keep the attention dude, you’re lucky someone keeps clinging onto you.” jaehyun replies unseriously, that playful smirk making its way back to his face.

“that’s not helpful!” woonhak exclaims, playing a mini tantrum. “ugh, i knew i should’ve gome to riwoo hyung” he whispers to himself but jaehyun overhears.

“okay okay fine, keep going. what things do they do?” jaehyun asks, finally takes it semi-seriously and get information from woonhak.

and now woonhak has a mini clump in his throat as even just thinking about you makes him jumble his words, “well they’ll lean on me, have lingering touches, and like gets close when we talk. but when i ask they’re like ‘im just like this with everyone’” woonhak admits, shoulders giving out as he slouches slightly into the chair.

“well maybe they are like that with everyone” jaehyun says, adding some emphasis on ‘are’, wanting to help woonhak see everything clearly, but not giving the boy the answer right away.

“that’s exactly what im afraid of!” woonhak exclaims, “but what if they aren’t… what if im mising my chance?” woonhak asks his hyung, desperate for an answer.

“then don’t miss it” jaehyun answers.

woonhak looks at his hyung, confused, “what does that even mean?”

jaehyung places his palm onto his face, dissappointed at how dumb woonhak is, “i mean, just go for it. or dont. either way, you’ll figure it out”

woonhak checks the time and sees that he has to leave to go to the party. he gets up from his chair, still confused, “what do i even bother asking you?”

“my question exactly. well let me know if they reject you so. i can roast you for it, woonagi” jaehyun giggles as he enjoys teasing the youngest.

woonhak walks out of the door after returning the hot chocolate, “i hate you, hyung” woonhak pouts with an angry face as he walks off.

“no you don’t! good luck loverboy!” jaehyun yells into the empty neighborhood before closing the door.

—

woonhak walks into the house which is decorated in twinkling lights. sounds of a cackling fireplace echo into his ears and the smell of freshly baked cookies goes around the room. families gather, chatting now also stacks with the sounds.

he goes over to the more quiet corner of the party, away from the adults to avoid any awkward conversations. you’re also there, sitting by the christmas tree and he decides to sit next to you.

“it’s so pretty this year. the lights, the tree… everything feels extra magical, doesn’t it?” you comment, gazing at the tree, beautifully decorated with many different kinds of ornaments from each family that got together.

woonhak leans back to try and make it look like he was playing it cool. “yeah, i guess. or maybe it's just because you're here" he says lightly, also focused on the tree that is in front of the both of you.

you blink, registering the words woonhak said. your eyes widen slightly as your gaze moves over to the boy. "what was that?"

he realizes what he says and his eyes widen as well. "uh. i mean, everone's here! like, the whole family and stuff. that's what it makes it magical," woonhak tries to play it off.

you tilt your head, suspicious but amused at woonhak's attempt at recovery. "mhm. sure, woonhak."

you both fall into a comfortable silence, watching the lights twinkle together on the tree, admiring the time you guys have together. woonhak's heart starts to race as he steals a glance at you, who is just quietly smiling at the tree.

"you've been acting weird lately. is something on your mind?" you ask, noticing a difference in woonhak's behavior recently.

woonhak starts choking on his own saliva, "what? no! weird? me? i'm always like this."

you laugh softly at his clumsiness, "okay, if you say so. woonagi" you tease the boy. your laughter fades as you suddenly lean in a little closer. "but, seriously. you know you can tell me anything, right? we've known each other since forever ago." you remind him, trying to comfort him through his personal problem.

woonhak's concentration slips, especially with you moving closer to him, "i like you."

a heavy silence falls between you both, woonhak freezing and woonhak turning a familiar tone of red.

you simply blink in surprise, still registering the situation. "wait what?"

woonhak starts to stammer his words, trying to quickly formulate sentences through the embarrassment he's feeling, "i-i didn't mean to say that! i mean, i did, but not like this!" he covers his face with his hands. "forget i even said anything." he says as he gets up.

you grab onto his arm, smiling softly. "woonhak, i think you're so cute when you're flustered. and, for the record, i like you too.

"wait really?" he makes sure, wanting to make sure he's not hearing anything wrong.

you simply nod, teasingly, of course. "yeah. but you're going to have to make it up to me for confessing to me like that. where's the grand romantic gesture?" you nudge him gently.

woonhak laughs nervously but is finally relaxing, "give me a break. i'm not exactly smooth under pressure."

[alittlesongbirdchirps]

OOOH DEATH, I MEAN DICK GRAYSON.

(I know Death already has a personification of a female in DC but pretend they don’t for this AU.)

Death wasn’t a skeleton with a robe made of black or a scythe. Death was more of the delivery person and sometimes could end life with one simple touch.

One day, life, bored from existing since the beginning, challenged death to a game.

“Since you are so cold and indifferent to those whom you take, why don’t you experience what they do? Why don’t you leave?”

It was an intriguing proposal for death, who had never really cared too much for life’s creations. Only a few small and innocent ones ever got a soft and caring voice from death.

“Death cannot be around the living, nor touch it.”

Life smiled softly.

“Maybe for a time it can, a short time, but enough to learn why death is so frightening to those who live.”

Death agreed to this game, and life constructed death a body that death wouldn’t be able to use its power, not unless it truly wanted to.

The body would be more like a vessel to contain death; if death used any hint of power, the body would begin to crack, almost like ice.

And thus Dick Grayson was born; of course, Dick didn’t know the requirement to live was to not know what was waiting on the other side.

But then Jason died, and when Dick returned from space, he sat at Jason’s grave. He didn’t get to say goodbye; he was angry with himself, angry with Bruce, and furious with the Joker.

“He can’t be dead. I didn’t—

His train of thought stops. ‘He didn’t what?’ He wonders why he lost his train of thought.

Jason ended up being alive, a miracle, but then after that so much happened.

Like John Constantine, a man he only heard tales of, stops dead in his tracks when he sees Dick, and he looks terrified. Normally, heroes find comfort in his presence and enjoy his company, but Dick didn’t even get to speak before Constantine disappeared, and Jason ended up laughing along with Tim and Steph, whereas Damien stated, ‘Constantine is a fool Grayson, a drunken fool; don’t mind him.’

And weird stuff like that kept happening. The weirdest one was when Darkside came, a being who represented death, but when Dick finally arrived right before Darkside prepared to kill Captain Marvel, Darkside paused, looking around almost in disbelief and confusion before dropping Captain Marvel and, funnily enough, quickly leaving.

Yet Dick still didn't connect anything or question it, but Tim and Duke began to.

(Dick sort of doesn’t remember what he truly is, and this is more of a game playing human but he feels and knows things deep down like Jason was supposed to die and stay dead, and Dick didn’t want to be close to him because some part on a deeper leveled remember that, and then when Jason died the human part was angry allowing a small part of his true self to leak through creating a small crack, so when he trails off he almost was gonna say I didn’t take him, and his close relationship with Damien because of the Lazarus pit he can sense that in Damien blood practically even though he doesn’t know it, Constantine dipping compared to other magic users like Zatanna is because the others don’t know and most people when they die, find death peaceful so that and Dicks charming personality is why heroes and others like him all find themself comfortable around Dick. whereas Constantine is different when he dies it won’t be peaceful he will be in hell, so he feels overwhelming death instead of happy vibes.)

This was just another silly idea.

(NOT EDITED LOL, SORRY FOR SPELLING MISTAKES, ME SICK TOO.)

[princesssmars]

concrete jungle with the devil.

some victoria neuman x reader headcanons.

part.ii of this

you’re beautiful, you’re talented, and you’re the secret girlfriend of a hot and potentially crazy congresswoman. what more could you ask for?

contains : fxf relationship. fluff. angst. manipulation, pretty toxic relationship because its the boys and its victoria, mentions of smut. readers hair and face not described.

wc : 2.415

a/n : started this when season two was airing. look at what an idiot i was.

you had forgotten how much walking was done in certain cities in the states, especially in the big apple. to be fair, you’d forgotten quite a few things.

you remembered things you had forgotten gradually after that night when you realized you were not only a supe, but a supe that had been unknowingly manipulating yourself with your apparent superpowers into forgetting parts of your life. would be a cool plot for a book if it wasn’t your entire life but, whatever.

after managing to think of the revelation without nearly having a panic attack and ‘crazy high blood pressure’ as victoria so eloquently put it, you’d fallen into a kind of…ease?

in her ‘loving worry’ the woman had put you under her watchful eye, moving you into her home to prevent you from doing anything ‘drastic’ and helping you acclimate to your new state of living. she paid for your expensive hotel for another week before not subtly (and not asking) recommending you stay in her townhome.

and she’ll make sure you’re as comfortable as you can be the entire time. find the guest bed uncomfortable? her first offer is for you to just sleep with her, but she’ll settle for making sure you have a new mattress and comforter set. feeling sad over your rapid change in diet? a personal chef is hired to make you authentic parisian dishes to your hearts content.

it’s completely jarring how she has such a hold on your heart. you know a part of you can’t move on because of your powers, but every time you try to remind yourself of how weird your situation is you’re roped right back in when she comes home from work and tells you how she was thinking of you all day, giving you physical affection when you seem open to it by pressing a sweet kiss to the side of your head.

as childish as it is, a small part of you wishes you had an actual label for your relationship. ‘woman who wooed me then flew me across the globe to accomplish my dream and then revealed she wants to take advantage of my unexplored power’ was more than a mouthful. even ‘partner’ would be preferable.

it’s amplified by the fact that you aren’t really in a relationship.

you’ve slept together, something you embarrassingly think about often at night when your hand trails beneath the soft satin pajama set she had gifted you. at the end of the day you do have needs, and having your sexual world rocked only to have to (reasonably) avoid the perpetrator as best as you can is all too confusing to process.

not to mention that she still treats you sweetly and romantically when in private, fingers brushing over your arms and pet names whenever she sees you in a room of her house, but outside and in public her career calls for…propriety? and a relationship with another woman in your career would hurt her numbers apparently. at least that's what her publicist said. she didn't seem very bright yo you, but victoria was throwing hundreds at her to support her campaign.

and oh yeah, she decides to tell you randomly on a thrusday night in while making dinner with her daughter that she actually is talking with another politician about running for president and vice president. zoe had to help you when you nearly choked on your pasta.

you hadn't delved too deep into politics when over in paris, only googling the basics about small party leaders who'd show up to bars and would likely engage in small talk over a few drinks. the first time you even learned about vic's profession you already heard alarm bells in your head, but president? seriously?

she tried to reassure you about it, listing off all the benefits it would bring to her family - which now apparently includes you. a better government position meant a better quality of living, moving into the secure grounds of number one observatory circle with access to the government's protection, connections, and loads of money. you and zoe both perked up at that. you looked at the girl curiously and she shrugged her shoulders, admitting later that she would like to be able to travel to more places farther than the met.

unsurprisingly, you grow closer to zoe. you aren’t given many opportunities to make a lot of friends, and the only adult conversations you get are your friends back in pairs over the phone and victoria along with her campaign help. at first you helped her a little with her homework, even if the curriculum for her private school was leagues above what you learned in your little low-budget middle school. eventually, you start to just talk about shared interests, and you're pleasantly surprised to find out the girl is musically gifted. its sweet to see that vic set up a corner of her office for the girl to practice her talents, and whenever she offers you listen to her play a piece on her cello.

you never bring it up, but one time victoria stopped at the house for a long lunch once and overheard the two of you talking about a piece you both loved before zoe practiced it on her instrument. she stood out of sight in the doorway for a minute and just observed. as soon as you noticed her presence she was gone.

when things start looking up in the polls vic starts to show a little leniency with letting you have an actual life. of course she uses some backdoor connections to get you a boost in your career, and you find a great deal of peace in being able to perform to your hearts content. it only helps that the atmosphere of entertainment in new york is alive and bursting, you meet so many fellow musicians and singers.

slowly but surely you start to fall for the city. sure it can be dirty and smell weird and have heaps of garbage everywhere, but just like with paris you’re able to find the hidden jems that lurk just below the surface.

and after some pestering whenever the two of you manage to be in a room alone together for more than a few minutes, victoria finally starts to explain to you…well, you.

you’d always gotten a bad feeling by vought, never liked the way they profited off of the supers and marketed them to certain countries and people. finding out that they made you the ‘way you are’ . apparently, both you and vic’s parents thought letting a company shoot some super drug into their children would a smart idea, that you’d both go on to do something great.

“well, i guess you are kind of great, in a sense. smart enough to become a politician, raise a good kid. are they proud of you?”

she only gave you a dry chuckle as she took a sip of her dark wine.

“yeah, yeah they’re really proud.”

as much as you start to try, you cant get in to her head. you’ve been thrust into the middle of her life and routine and there’s still so many things about her you don’t know. hell, you don’t even know what her power really is still. you can tell she wants to let you in some, either for her own feelings or because she wants to help you explore your supercharged feelings for her to understand more about your abilities.

but just like when you talked about vought, as soon as she’s about to open up you see that look, one of a fear you’d never quite seen before flash in her eyes before she quickly dismisses you.

so you decide to tale a.. drastic measure to get some things out of her.

you had been exploring your power a bit in your new daily life, just little things that didn’t make too much of a difference or affect anyone too greatly. a simple request for the customer ahead of you to apologize to a barista they’d needlessly ridiculed, innocently asking a rushing passerby to give you directions to a cafe you had just been dying to try. it took a few weeks to get the hang of it, the fact that it apparently worked best when you were singing and the toll it could take on your body, but the dizziness fades eventually.

it’s a rare night where the two of you are in the house alone together and you decide to celebrate your recent well-perceived performance by opening up a bottle of bubbly and sitting on the couch, dressed in some maybe too revealing pajamas and waiting for her to inevitably join you once she finishes settling in from a long day at the campaign office.

she joins you and clink s her glass to yours, rolling her eyes into your drink when you immediately ask her a question about all of her plans.

“its gonna take more than some expensive champagne and you looking like that for me to crack, but nice try sweetheart.”

“oh yeah?” your finger teases the rim of your glass, eyes trained on her movements.

“yeah. let’s stick to the basic questions for now.”

you hum a short tune to yourself and take another sip of your drink. “okay. you should tell me what you had for lunch today.”

“patricia picked me up a ceasar salad today. it had too many croutons, a really absurd amount. sat confused for a few seconds.”

her eyes scrunch up slightly and flick to yours. you take her silence as a sign to keep going.

“i never really get to talk to your assistant. she told me once her name was morticia.”

she laughs and sets her glass on the coffee table, “think she might’ve been intimidated by you. she can be a real tightass but she’s a hardworker, believes in my campaign and message and all that shit.”

“dont try to skirt past that, tell me why she’s intimidated by me.”

her eye twitches, clearly annoyed by what you’re doing and not used to someone having this kind of control over her. but each time you do it you notice the way her hand clenches on the cushion of the sofa, how her tongue darts out to quickly lick over her bare lips.

“she wants me, checks me out sometimes when we’r ein the office. but the reason i hired her is that she’s incredibly observant, and she’s probably picked up that the two of us have a weird thing going on.”

your eyes slightly scrunch together. “what do you mean by ‘weird thing’ ?”

clearly your aggravation at how she decided to describe...admittedly whatever this weird thing between the two of you was, its enough for your concentration to slip and allow her to get out of the concentrated hold you had on her mind. in only a few seconds she’s pinning your body down to the couch, your wrists held down by her hands and your drink falling to the floor with a loud shatter.

‘ugh! vic, what the hell-” you struggle to get out of her grip, thrashing your arms and trying to kick up your legs that are trapped under her thighs. you apparently greatly underestimated how strong she is.

“that’s it baby, get angry, let it all out.” she has a fascinated smile on her face that does nothing to quell your frustration, only giving you the desire to get right back to messing with her anyway how.

“tell me why you’re doing this to me!”

“i like watching you under me, plus i like having control over you. definitely don’t want you turning the tables on me again.”

you notice that when you command her to explain her voice takes on this fast tone, like she’s rushing to answer you as soon as you finish speaking.

“you think i’ve dont you what you’ve done to me?”

“isn’t it fucking obvious? you just forced me to tell you something i wasn’t supposed to mention. i have to keep sharing things with you, you make me want to share things with you. you’re controlling me and you don’t even know it.”

“why don’t you want me to control you?”

“because i’ve been controlled before. its horrifying. you could be horrifying. because it’s not part of the plan. none of this is. god, you were supposed to be gone by now but i just can’t…i don’t-”

both of you’re eyes are wide when her speech starts to slip, fighting against the control to keep telling you what she’s hiding. her head jerks and you feel a rush of hot liquid rush down your face, your hand miraculously free to let you feel the blood pouring out of your nose. you look back at her and she’s scrambled to the other end of the couch, eyes trained ahead of her as she gets herself out of the daze.

abruptly she stands up, swiping off any leftover unease and starting her trek towards the stairs as you wipe off the now slow moving trail of fluid trailing from your nose.

as soon as she reaches the first step you call out to her, blood dripping into your mouth as your voice takes on a bittersweet and melodic sound.

“how do you feel about me, victoria?”

her manicured hand clenches around the wood bannister so hard you fear it’ll snap.

“you’re powerful. you’re useful and you’re terrifying.”

tears prick at your lashline as you swipe at more of the red covering your mouth. her head turns to meet your blurry gaze.

“i think i’m in love with you.”

you zone out to the sound of her footsteps rushing up the stairs and the light-headness from exertion.

you had forgotten what one one of the worst things about being in a city was. how despite being surrounded by thousands of people and hundreds of lives, inevitably came those times where you were alone as a person could be.

[sleep-token-confessions]

This might be a hot take, and i dont want to cause any fighting im just giving my personal perspective and hoping i can get some perspective from people who think differently. But i really dont get why people are so convinced knowing their identities will ruin sleep token for fans. Its one thing avoiding their identities because you believe its morally wrong to investigate, thats understandable (though i will say, its concerning seeing people panic from accidentally finding out as if it makes them a bad person. Also dont send death threats or say other horrible things to people who do know). But the idea that knowing theyre just some normal people will ruin the art confuses me. Maybe its just because sleep token isnt my first masked band, but i dont love the band any less just because i know their identities. I still interpret the music however i want, i still enjoy the theatrics, and from what i know as of now about the boys theyre just even more endearing than people think. Even if vessel explained in depth what the music means to him personally, id still interpret it however i want anyways. I cant see how the art would be ruined unless people found out theyre horrible people, in which case wouldnt it be good to know that so you could stop supporting them? Its just weird to me seeing people accidentally find stuff about their real identities and desperately try to trick their brain into forgetting out of fear they wont like sleep token anymore, and id be lying if i said it didnt seem unhealthy imo. I kinda feel like im missing something because i genuinely just do not get it, it feels like saying knowing what an actor looks like off camera ruins the movie. Maybe my brain just works differently or something, genuinely what am i not getting? I understand the moral concerns (to an extent at least, but right now i wont get into all my takes about what is or isnt moral), but i do not understand at all the artistic concerns

.

[thefatcat-13]

HELL YEAHH

first: better pic of the bag

front

back

now: materials i used

- old jean shorts that didnt fit (the flap thing)

- a hood off of a hoodie (the camo fabric, the part that actually holds stuff)

- straps off of a tote bag i got at a local pride event (blue strap)

- hoodie fabric that was previously cut up for another project (the shoulder rest)

- stuffing from a busted pillow (the shoulder rest)

- floss as thread

- a thick embroidery needle

- pliers (you’re gonna need em for sewing through the denim)

- knowledge of how to do a whipstich and a running stich. if a project uses more than these stitches the i dont fw it.

okay so step one: the strap

i just used a seam ripper and snatched both straps off of this tote bag i got for free and never used. i sewed both of the straps together to make one longer strap.

after the strap is longer, i used the hoodie fabric to make a kind of tube thing for the shoulder rest. make sure it can fit around your strap and have a bit of extra room to fit stuffing.

DONT SEW THIS ONTO THE STRAP YET

it will be so much easier to make it in the right place when the straps are actually sewn on the bag.

STEP TWO: the actual holding part

okay so the important part. cut the hood off of your least favorite hoodie. i got mine bc it was on my battle jacket but the hood not only looked weird it covered any design i put on the back so i ditched it.

you just need to sew up the side you cut off. heres what the inside of my bag looks like if that helps

sew the part next to the red line

STEP THREE: attach straps to bag

um pretty self explanatory tbh. i safety pinned mine in place before sewing so i could see is the strap was long enough or too long. just play around with the length of the strap until you like it basically.

i sewed it like this so the strap was pretty secure

not the cleanest but eh who cares

STEP FOUR: put on shoulder rest

(idk if its called a shoulder rest who cares anymore language is made up anyways and you know what i mean)

anyways just safety pin it on, fuck around with the positioning like you did with the strap and sew it on ONE side

we use the other side to shove fluff in there, use a pencil to push it to the other side. god knows how much to put in but this is how much i put in mine

bada bing bada boom you got a perfectly functional bag. if you’re like me you can stop here and procrastinate actually putting the flap on because “oh well it worksss its fine” knowing damn well your floppy bag kinda sucks and you dont take it anywhere.

oh you actually want to add the flap? cool

STEP FIVE: the flap

calling it the flap sounds weird but idc its the flap.

take some old jeans and choose weather or not you want the front or back pockets. i choose back because idk aesthetics? i genuinely dont remember why back was the better option for me.

anyways cut the back out in a way that covers the hood well and keeps the pocket in tact. you can leave room to hem the edges so they dont fray or you can be a loser like me who didnt feel like doing that.

make sure to leave notches like this so the strap can have room to sit or wtv

the red marks are where i left notches btw.

and then take a second to pray to whatever you believe in to give you strength. arm yourself with a thick ass embroidery needle and pliers because we are sewing through the thickest part of both the denim and the bag. i believe in you.

i just sewed it like the picture above, i didnt have floss so i just took embroidery thread and rubbed it on a candle to get waxed embroidery thread.

now your punk ass has a bag made of fabric scraps and a solid 3 ish hours of your time

and maybe some blood sweat and tears from sewing through that denim.

ask me questions if you’re confused ive never name a tutorial before

have fun :]

i made this bag out of basically fabric scraps follow your dreams kids

[running-with-the-feels]

Okay, totally outside of what I normally post but, I just watched I Saw The TV Glow and I can't stop crying

I thought everyone was exaggerating when they said it would crack you open but no, actually, I think they were underselling it and I think it has rewired my brain chemistry

[s0fter-sin]

i need ghoap frantically making out against a door finally taking the leap on their feelings. need ghost grinding against soap, expecting to find him just as hard as him, only to feel nothing

and in all his wisdom and experience, he concludes soap was tortured and never told him

he’s trying to think of a delicate way to say he understands, that he’s been through it and it doesn’t change anything about how he feels (and who the fuck touched him so he can hunt them down and rend them limb from limb)

meanwhile trans!soap’s just trying to find the best angle to grind his cunt on ghost’s thigh

just it never even entering ghost’s head bc he’s never known a trans person but he has met plenty of people who’ve been tortured - himself included - so of course that’s his logical leap

soap takes off his shirt and he sees his top surgery scars and ghost asks if he wants him to kill the one who did it and soap just hums like, “actually, man did pretty good, they healed real well,” and ghost’s just teary-eyes with awe at how well he’s coping, “looking on the bright side, that’s my johnny.”

imagine he thinks johnny was fully castrated but sees he’s determined to still have a sex life with him so he buys packers and straps to help him bc hell yeah healing and soap’s just like, “holy shit i’ve never had such a thoughtful partner before, such a sweet man, lt.”

[dizzybizz]

would love to see some bronseele! :3c

then may i offer some (very messy) bronseele??

[i-may-be-an-emu]

WHAT AM I MEANT TO SAY WHEN PEOPLE ASK ABOUT MY HOBBIES LIKE OH. IM VERY OBSESSED WITH AN IMPROV GROUP FROM LONDON. YEAH WHEN I THINK ABOUT THEM I SMILE LIKE A MANIAC AND I’VE CRIED BECAUSE THEY MEAN SO MUCH TO ME MULTIPLE TIMES. WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES?

[moeblob]

son boy raccoon trash can man suffering in a dnd au as a cleric bc his warlock will not stop committing murders and he has to keep coming up with reasons murder is valid to convince the gm its fine and under control

[fallenrain40]

ALSO, I JUST WANT TO SAY. Although I'm not the biggest Ivypool fan, I never really was, THE FANDOM ISN'T EXACTLY ALWAYS NICE TO HER EITHER. Now, it's not as bad as the way they've treated Dovewing. And Ivypool often felt like a fan favorite, even !! But. I've also seen some terrible takes on THE BOTH of them. Alongside Hollyleaf as well. Honestly, those three cats seemed to get a lot of weird controversy meanwhile Jayfeather is Literally Perfect Boy to the fandom, and even LIONBLAZE doesn't really get much hate- he's just seen as kind of boring, which, is pretty accurate for the majority of the time he had a POV. very starkly different vibe the fandom has towards those cats meanwhile Holly, Ivy, and Dove all stir up arguments all the time. Them being flawed characters are a GOOD THING and idk why some people dont get that

[skyburger]

whos your favorite of the crusaders from part 3... i think i love baofu the most tbh