#never stop blowing up ONLY APPLIES TO THE GAME DUDE!

[jamiebluewind]

THE AO3 IS SPREADING!

NSBU Sketches.... Tomorrow!

I am fine but I went to the ER and now I am tired and my dominant hand is sore. So going to watch episode 4 in the morning.

Ends up one should not draw with an IV in. I was sooo bored though.

[cynthiaandsamus]

(While reading Olympus I've been thinking about the philosophy of Part 2 and part of it has always kind of bugged me, like each Lostbelt seems more perfect than the last and we just happen to find some wrinkle to justify it being bad even though I'm sure a lot of people suffering in this world would take that tradeoff for some of these places, like regardless of how bad some of them are underneath it would be better for people to live like that even if we see it as 'unearned' from the outside perspective and it felt like the bad stuff was just tacked on as an afterthought to be like "Oh yeah blow it up, it's okay, it doesn't have the suffering of the real world so it's not REAL. And that bothered me, it read to me like the point of living in the real world IS the suffering, like if we somehow managed to cure world hunger we'd be the next on the chopping block because the unanswering weird force that decides what good history is wants us to keep suffering. And I get the whole "Kingdom Hearts is Light" thing they're going for with the best in humanity and all that but it just seemed so weird on a humanitarian level to be like "yeah this is fine" to all the abject suffering in the (Fate version of the) world.

And then something kinda clicked for me, I remember watching Apocrypha and that anime is very weird because I dunno about the novel but the anime makes it seem like they're not really sure why Shirou Amakusa is bad until they get to his place, like they don't know what his fucking plan is and just kinda assume it's bad and will kill as many people as possible based on that baseless accusation, but when they finally hear his plan for the Salvation of humanity there's no Human Instrumentality darkness behind it, like it would fundamentally just be good for everyone but they still reject it based on the idea that "If you hand salvation to humanity they'll never know if they could've done it themselves." now in Apocrypha because this kinda comes out of nowhere late in the game it just sounds like Sieg's butthurt about Shirou killing his waifu and basically committed to stopping the 'evil' plan they all sacrificed so many people for and makes it sound like people have to "earn" the right to not suffer and die for nothing which again I get the idea it's going for but you're still saying "Hey the world is on fire but I'm not gonna fix it because Shirou Amakusa's not a present-day dude, sorry Haiti, keep starving".

But I think FGO does this a lot better because if you apply the "If you hand salvation to humanity they'll never know if they could've done it themselves" moral to the Lostbelts something becomes a lot clearer, the salvation humanity receives in every Lostbelt is flawed BECAUSE it's not something humanity earned for itself, because it was something gifted by divine force and powers beyond the peoples' control and also because if they wrote actualy good places for us to blow up it'd be too dark to sell to horny teenagers but shhh. It's not saying that if we stop suffering humanity will stagnate, it's saying that the only end to suffering that will be worth it is one that humanity creates itself. Something that isn't human can't create a truly perfect ending for humanity. This also kinda bugged me in Apocrypha because they start talking about how human magic can reach the point of being soulblobs on its own if people believe in themselves or whatever and that's just not something applicable to real life since that power system doesn't exist and the idea that we can create anything like that in any sort of realistic world is hopelessly naive, but as far-flung as the FGO version of it is, even if it'll probably never happen, it emphasizes it's the only thing worth doing.

[jeremy-ken-anderson]

HP and Tanks

So in Idle Champions your tanks have several orders of magnitude more hp than non-tanks. They’ll have like 1e12 hp? For non-math folks e12 means “multiply this by 10, 12 times.“ So 2.5e3 is 2,500.

This isn’t really sustainable without good healing, so healers’ numbers also go crazy high.

Then we get into monsters that can ignore the front line and shoot behind them, or AoE your whole party with a meteor storm, and now we need an ability that lets tanks share their hp craziness with the party. So the tank’s at 1e12 and the rest of the party is at 1e6, which is a lot less than the tank but still a far cry from the maybe 95 hp they had without a tank.

With healing for 1e11 and tank hp at 1e12 and the party at 1e6, now there’s an issue of producing a real time limit on zones. So they introduced % damage.

This is a mistake. Full stop, it was the wrong thing to do. Think about the effect of that. If the falling debris causes 25% of max hp every tick, it’s dealing 2.5e11 damage to the tanks but only 2.5e5 damage to the non-tanks. The healing is then covering the non-tanks easily (it heals for 400,000 times the incoming damage each tick) but slowly falling behind on the tank (it heals for 2/5 the damage each time). This makes it so leveling up your tanks is incorrect? You have to understand, this is kind of a puzzle game but “who to level up” isn’t intended as part of the puzzle. You’re clearly intended to level up everyone as much as you can. If you had the choice to get the tanks’ “Increase everyone’s damage” powers without getting their “I have more hp” powers, maybe this would be a cute puzzle with a surprising “don’t get more hp” solution. But you can’t. You’d have to stop leveling the tank at all.

A better option would be to remove the percent damage, but to my mind the best option would be to eschew the idea that MASSIVE SCALING had to apply to every aspect of the game. They should have removed the idea of tanks having a million times the hp of your other party members and monsters dealing more and more damage as you got deeper into the game.

This game will never make this fix. It would require too many changes to other things, such as the achivement for your tank to take some monumental amount of damage. But. I think the assumption that a massive-scaling game like this had to include massive scaling on tank hp was a faulty assumption and led to a bunch of other gameplay problems that aren’t really fun.

HOWEVER!

On an entirely different tangent, I really like the idea of the abstraction of tanking being represented by the rest of the party having some portion of the tank’s heightened hp. I’m not talking about the 5E Paladin ability to just take damage for adjacent allies. I mean IC’s system where tanks make the party tankier. Just by being there.

If that seems unreasonable, remember that hp in general is an abstraction. It’s not “wound points” with each lost hp representing a little of your blood and death occurring when the last of your blood has exited your body. I mean, in some games it is (in Spider Man PC taking damage pulled down a spidey suit to reveal a skeleton and you died if the skeleton was fully revealed) but that’s not exactly a reasonable model of how bodies work either is it. For realism you’d want something like Bushido Blade where fights generally end in one or two sword swings and that one dude with a gun is in fact completely unfair. Because on average, in most fights if someone gets hit with almost any weapon, once, they’re out of the fight. Generally the assumption is that hp represents some mix of will to keep going, actual health, the capacity to minimize/blunt certain blows to avoid actual damage, and perhaps some amount of luck you’re burning through before, at those last few hp, you’re taking the kind of hits that bring a person down.

So it seems totally acceptable to me that a tank could have that abstraction also represent the way they make their party safer in general, by demoralizing the foe, drawing some attention away from allies, helping allies stay in defensible positions, and so on. I think the larger reason this doesn’t see more use is that in a lot of the games where it’d come up - such as tabletop RPGs like Pathfinder - the players want to do those things rather than let them be abstracted. They’d rather have a good grapple score that lets them immobilize the monster so its only option is to attack the tanky grappler, or use a Demoralize action to decrease the monster’s attack, or directly distract the monster so their allies can hide.

[ajentmm]

Desert Mercenaries Theorycraft

Here we go again. It's November 2019. We get another Sacred Stones banner. This time we get a fun 3-4 star dancer dagger lady, a 5 star on the extreme edges of boy to man, and the first and only non-seasonal dou unit, of two guys in the middle of the boy to man spectrum. Two dudes who barely interacted in the game, one being the main villain, but are non-the-less good friends. Just two bros. I can imagine this banner didn't do well just because there's more male characters with the only female character being common, a sight we will never see today. Sorry for being syndical but this is Waifu Emblem after all. It could also be because Gerik and Ewan had meh inheritable weapons. But hey, we are here to fix that today.

But first, you know the rules, dancers don't get new perfs or refines. I'm subbing her out for the 3-4 star off focus unit.

Ross: His Father's Son

5 Star Lvl. 40 47/38/31/32/24 / Max Invest 56/47/39/41/30

Brave Axe+: Mt.8 Inflicts Spd-5. If unit initiates combat, unit attacks twice.

Smite - Fire Boost - Threaten Def

He come the boi. There he is. He is here. While other off focus 3-4 stars from this year were 1 BST gen behind, Ross is a trainee, so he has higher BST at the end, but lower at lvl 1, which means nothing when it's so easy to level up. So he and Gerik are tied in BST, thou Gerik is faster with less Def and Res. This dose make Ross better at enemy phasing. With that Brave Axe and his underdog berserker feel, I wanna make him more risky.

Hand-me-down Hackett: Mt.8 Grants Spd+4 Inflicts Def/Res-5 Unit attacks twice. (Even if foe initiates combat.)

"If foe initiates combat or foe’s HP >75%, grant Special Cooldown charge +1 to unit per foe's attack. (Only highest value applied. Does not stack.)"

So its a speedy brave weapon, that works both phases, and gives him special charge, akin to his super trainee class having +15 Crit. Now, Ross is still a 3-4 star, I couldn't give him too crazy of a refine like what Ninja Cherche has. I don't however want to give him "Stats". The special refine only gives special charge when foe's hit because giving it when he hits can give insanely high cost Specials constancy, and makes 2 charge trigger on the second hit when insisting. If you want that, get heavy blade. This is just for retaliating on the enemy phase, since he now has lowered defenses. Use this to your advantage and inherit Vantage or Warth, you could be safer and use a Dodge skill, or go Special Spiral for more insane sweeping.

Gerik: Desert Tiger

5 Star Lvl. 40 47/37/36/30/22 / Max Invest 56/46/45/38/28

Firesweep Axe+: Mt.15 Unit and foe cannot counterattack.

Moonbow - Darting Blow 4 - Sudden Panic 3 - Infantry Pulse 3

Gerik is here and he has skills to inherit. He has great HP to use Sudden Panic and Infantry Pulse and great Spd to double. He just needs a perf that give some more stats, and maybe removes the whole "unit can't counterattack".

Desert Tiger Battle-axe: If unit's HP>=25%, inflict Atk/Spd/Def-5 on foe during combat, and also, if unit's Spd > foe's Spd -1, foe cannot counterattack.

There, now he needs to be healthy and out speed the opponent to stop the counterattacks. This could be combined with Smoke skills to make him more useful in applying stats, and then become an enemy phase brawler.

"If unit is within 3 tile radius of an ally, grant Atk/Spd +6 and grants Special cooldown charge +1 and deals damage = 15% of unit's Spd per unit's attack during combat. (Only highest value applied. Does not stack.)"

And because Gerik is all about companionship, he needs to be near allies to get that Special Charge and bonus damage to slay foes. He unfortunately needs 1 charge to use Galeforce, which he can't get from foe's counterattack, so this would just be for taking out one really dangerous foe.

Ewan: Eager Student

5 Star Lvl. 40 38/37/33/23/35 / Max Invest 47/46/41/31/44

Rauðrserpent+: Mt. 12 If foe initiates combat and uses bow, dagger, magic, or staff, grants Def/Res+6 during combat.

Glacies - Swift Stance 3 - Sabotage Spd 3

Ewan is even worse fodder than Gerik but his trainee bonus makes him more well rounded than the average mage. So, making him a stat ball is what I have in mind.

Tome of Anima: If unit has [Bonuses] active or foe has [Penalties] active, grants Atk/Spd/Def/Res+5 during combat, neutralizes penalties to unit's Atk/Res, and neutralizes bonuses on foe's Atk/Res.

This tome's unique condition relies on him fighting foe's affected by Sabotage Spd, or from getting rallied by allies or inflicting penalties on foes. This is suppose to mirror how, in Sacred Stones, he need a lot of help to get him exp in grind maps. He just needs a leg up to beat the baddies. Now the unique refine effect would likley give him more stats like bonus doubler or foe penalty doubler, or maybe give bonuses to himself and allies. But I wanna give him something crazy. This is the Tome of Anima after all.

"If foe uses Magic, Bow, or Daggers, Grants weapon-triangle advantage against and inflicts weapon-triangle disadvantage on red and blue foes, but also, inflicts weapon-triangle disadvantage against and grants weapon-triangle advantage to colorless foes during combat. Neutralizes effects that boost values along with weapon-triangle advantage or reduce values along with weapon-triangle disadvantage (Triangle Adept) on unit and foe."

Remember how the super trainee pupil class gets Light, Dark, and Anima tomes? Remember how Anima got to use Fire, Thunder, and Wind? This tome allows Ewan to get weapon triangle advantage against any colored tome, as if he is swapping tomes inbetween figts. This is a huge offensive and defensive advantage with a key downside, having a weapon triangle disadvantage against colorless ranged units. Now colorless tomes are rare, but they are incredibly powerful anyway. Colored bows and daggers are also rare, you can get the advantage on them too. But colorless bows and daggers are very common and he can die to them with out this refine, a weakness just got weaker, like Triangle Adapt. Speaking of which, I was going to give him just neutral advantage against blue units, until Arvel came around. Now we are just neutralizing Triangle Adept on both units in battle. There, a fun refine, it's nice to get creative sometimes.

Ephraim: Dynamic Duo

5 Star Lvl. 40 41/39/30/37/25 / Max Invest 49/47/37/45/30

Reginleif: Effective against armored and cavalry foes. Grants Atk+3. If unit’s Atk > foe’s Atk and/or 1 extra space of movement granted by another skill is active on unit, unit makes a guaranteed follow-up attack.

Draconic Aura - Heavy Blade 4 - Lull Atk/Def 3 - Odd Atk Wave 3

Dou Skill: Infantry and armored allies within 2 spaces of unit (including unit) can move 1 extra space. (That turn only. Does not stack.)

These two dudes have been an enigma of sorts. As I mentioned, they are the only Duo unit that isn’t seasonal, but they were also not put in the 5 star pool. They could only be summoned if they were the focus unit, until he was added to the Special-4 Star pool. Additionally, they are kinda lame compared to the other Duo units because they are un-seasonal. That's just Ephraim in his regular attire, same as Lyon. They have a good niece in a lance that's effective against armored and cavalry foes (that Brave Erika took), and they gets follow-ups by having more Atk than the foe, and can give themself and allies 1 movement for 1 turn. That last ability only works once per battle and it uses an action in Summoner Duals. It's not as good as just inheriting Odd/Even Tempest. Well, I am here to guess what refine he is going to get.

Reginleif: Effective against armored and cavalry foes. Grants Atk+3. If unit’s Atk > foe’s Atk or unit has a [Bonus] active (excluding bonuses on stats from Fortify or Rally), grant Atk/Def + 6 to unit during combat, unit makes a guaranteed follow-up attack, and prevent foe from making a follow-up attack.

So, Ephraim now gets omin-breaker and 6 Atk/Def. A far upgrade. But as for the second condition, I changed it from "+1 movement" to "any bonus status effect". This was because I saw Assult Troops didn't work with Amelia's perf and wanted this skill to work with it. Also, if it was all bonuses, just by getting Atk bonuses from Odd Atk Wave, he could trigger the effect without having higher Atk than the foe. I thought, let's just make the Atk check more likely, while also encouraging players to use extra movement.

"If unit or foe initiates combat after moving to a different space, grants bouns to unit's Atk and inflict penalties on foe's Atk during combat = X + 4 and neutralizes effects that inflict "Special cooldown charge -X" on unit during combat. (X = number of spaces from start position to end position of whoever initiated combat; max 4.) If X ≥ 2 and unit deals damage to foe during combat, restores 10 HP to unit. (Triggers even if 0 damage is dealt.)"

Hey wait, is this Sol Brace II?

Maybe a little. This skill is the Clash skill, but raises his Atk by 5-8 and lower the foe's Atk by 5-8. This weapon now gives a 16-24 advantage in the Atk check that triggers Omni-breaker and Heavy Blade 4, alongside his Lull and Odd Wave. And yes, the Null-Guard and 10 HP per hit is just the cherry on top. Not only does the clash condition make him great when using this Duo skill, it also makes him a great counter to armour units with unexpected extra movement (Summer Edelgard) and top tier cavalry threats (Legendary Sigurd, Brave Seliph, Rearmed Lif).

With that, Ephraim and Lyon now should be a real dynamic duo, like Batman and Robin, or Peanut Butter and Chocolate. . . . . Why is Lyon even there? Ephraim is doing all the hard work. I was thinking about giving them "Weapon-triangle advantage against colorless foes," or "damage reduction from AOE Specials" like what Lyon has but reducing the foe's Atk and getting heals was good enough. Oh well.

Anywho, what do you think about this batch? Was my hot takes too spicy? Let me know, in the comments below.

[elliewritessometimes]

hello! me n @mattieswheelers wrote another fic!! tiff is the most incredible writing partner and i- i just love them???? thanky so much for writing with me you are a stunning writer aaaa (y'all there will be a second chapter stay tuned fdhhddh aLSO we are posting this on ao3 it will be there at some point)

in other news: this was originally a request!! @notsomightymightytiger it may have taken me uh- a good couple of months but here is your fic!!!

for reference, these numbers apply to these tropes: first kiss/flowers of romance/blind date

LOVE YOU KIERA AND TIFF AAAAA HOPE YOU LIKE

tw: swearing, alcohol and drunkenness but not in an angsty farrah way just in a silly oops first date way, as per usual if there's anything at all you want me to tag let me know :D

---

Eva thought she was doing perfectly fine without a romantic partner. Her life was normal, one filled with work and friends and scrolling through Pinterest.

Apparently, in the eyes of her best friend, this was not a normal life. Farrah had always been a bit extra, that one kid in highschool who always seemed to know where the best parties were, or who was known by name to the baristas at the local Starbucks, and by the ripe old age of 22, she believed that a romantic partner was crucial to living a fulfilling life.

Or, at least, that you should at least try romance once before becoming a hermit in the woods, especially if your name was Eva Sanchez.

(“Look, normally I wouldn’t be like this,” Farrah drawled, leaning against a counter, “But deep inside  you are nothing but a useless gay at heart-”

Her phone buzzed.

“-and you haven’t dated anyone, like, ever, and if I have to be the only one constantly dragging you out to social gatherings, I’m going to die early. So do me a solid, will you?”

“Hey-!”)

Eva did not agree.

But, she was a loyal friend, and that was how she found herself sitting in an overly posh restaurant on some random blind date with some random person that she’d never even seen before. It would be an understatement to say she was a little bit nervous, but then again, whenever Farrah was involved, that was normal.

***********: hi sorry i got your number from the blind date place thing but uh are you the person at the table in the corner

***********: ???denim jacket ?? pride pin??

Eva smiled, glancing up at the door. There was another person looking a little lost in the entrance, very obviously trying not to draw attention to themselves, their phone held close to their face as they squinted around at the restaurant. They were pretty, dark hair pulled up into a loose ponytail, obviously not dressed for a restaurant as upper class as this one. Eva liked them immediately. Raising a hand, she waved in their direction, laughing as her date gasped dramatically, hurrying over and nearly overturning a tray of drinks on their way.

“Hello.”

“Look-” Eva’s date slumped in the seat opposite, one hand awkwardly held behind their back. “I dunno about you, but I certainly did not willingly sign up for this. You see, my friend wanted me to apparently live a more interesting life and stop relying on Tumblr as my only source of interaction with anyone, and my friend is very persuasive, so here I am.”

Eva raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, so I wanted to get that out of the way before we even introduce ourselves. I am here out of spite only, so, uh, I hope you’re not too desperate.” They paused, finally taking a breath. “Right. The more I think about this, the more embarrassed I get.”

“It’s okay.” Eva gave a noise which sounded suspiciously like a snort. “Let’s not think about it then. I’m Eva. She/her. It’s nice to meet you, unwilling datemate.”

They grinned. “Kate. She/they.” She gasped a little like she’d forgotten something. “Oh! I brought flowers. Chess said it would be romantic.”

Eva accepted the offered flowers with a blush. This date was going better than expected. Farrah was going to lose her shit when she heard about it. “Wait- You have a friend called Chess?? Like, the game???”

Kate rolled their eyes, casually snatching a bright pink cocktail off a passing waiter’s tray. “Duh. You didn’t really see me walk in this fucking posh ass restaurant in my flannel and converse and think I’d be normal, right?”

Eva laughed then, properly. It had only been a few short, chaotic minutes, but she was already warming to this mystery person and, God, they had good taste in flowers. Even if Eva’s nerd hermit brain did helpfully choose that moment to remind her that this particular bunch of flowers presented a meaning that translated almost exactly to ‘fuck you’. She wondered if Kate was aware of that. However, perhaps that was a fun fact for the second date.

-

“Hey, Eva?” Kate was slightly tipsy. Only a little bit! Really not that bad. Not at all. Definitely not too drunk for a first date. Shut up. “Hey! You’re- so cool.”

Eva giggled - she was equally as drunk, but not quite so intoxicated as to stop wondering why the restaurant hadn’t thrown them out yet. “Noooooo. ‘m a nerd.”

“Yeah, but a cool nerd.” Kate twirled the decorative candle between her fingers, drawing stares from disapproving patrons. The flame reflected in Eva’s glasses, making her just a little bit more smitten by the second. They enclosed their hand around the candle holder as best they could, standing up just a little shakily. “Eva-” It was like they got a rush from just saying her name. Eva thought it was endearing. “Hey- we- we should go…”

“Why?” She narrowed her eyes, also standing up, her long-discarded denim jacket slung over one arm, the other naturally slipping to link arms with Kate.

“....Arson.” Kate sounded entirely serious, still twizzling the candle in one hand. Eva blinked dumbly at her, mouth slightly open. They pressed a gentle kiss to the side of Eva’s mouth, giggling uncharacteristically at the motion. “I’m jokingggg! Don’t look so shook, my dude.”

Eva stuttered a little, letting Kate pull her finally out of the restaurant, marvelling at the fact she’d only known this incredible, crazy person for a matter of hours. Who knew where tonight would take them?

-

They found themselves in a park, gazing up at the stars, now dim in the reflections of the city lights. Kate’s phone flashed 11:46 in the dark, the lock screen filled with notifications from a contact who’s name consisted only of a chess piece.

Eva lay down on the grass, spreading her arms out towards the stars. “Do you ever think about life?”

“Sure. All the time. I’m alive, and so are you, and I think you’re really pretty. Does that count?” Kate flopped down beside her.

“I- I mean, yeah- um,” Eva tried not to sound flustered, thankful for the darkness that hid the color rising in her cheeks. “But like, life. Scientifically. Relatively.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah, I totally do. Um. Do I?”

Eva laughed, turning her head slightly to gaze at Kate. Under the light of the stars, they looked… ethereal. And really, really, really beautiful. And-

Eva coughed slightly, turning back towards the night sky. “Just… think about it. I’m lying here beside you, on a giant marble that hurtles through space. Relatively speaking, our orbit and path are unique, and all around us, the other planets are… swirling in harmony, and we’re just. We’re just here to see it.”

Kate hummed. “You sound like those philosophical people, all ‘if a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, did it really fall?’ and ‘relatively speaking I am relatively here, and I’m relatively certain… blah blah blah.’”

“Huh. Do I?” Eva shrugged, putting her hands behind her head. “I dunno. I’m drunk. I think. Oh, no, I’m relatively drunk, ha ha- okay no, I’m just drunk.”

“You are,” Kate nodded wisely. “We both are.”

“Do you know what Albert Einstein said once?” Eva asked abruptly, closing her eyes. “He said, ‘When you’re courting a nice girl, an hour seems like a second. When you sit on a red-hot cinder, a second seems like an hour. That's relativity.’ And if that isn’t the most relatable thing he’s ever said, then, well- okay yeah I’ve lost my train of thought.”

“Wow,” said Kate. “Did Albert Einstein court lots of nice girls?”

“Pfft.” Eva rolled onto her side, laughing openly in Kate’s face. “Sure. Why not.”

They rolled to face Eva, curling up into a ball, softer than the 22-year-old had seen her all evening. “Not as nice as the one I’m courting right now.”

“Even though neither of us really wanted to be here earlier?”

“Yeah. Y’know, I’m fucking glad our best friends basically set us up. It’s very pog of them.”

“You did not just say ‘pog’. You did not.” Eva groaned into the slightly damp, slightly disgusting grass, listening to Kate cackle next to her.

“Shit, dude, my secret’s out. I’m just as much of a nerd as you.” She leant their head on Eva’s outstretched arm, burrowing into her side.

Eva paused then, draping her other arm around Kate, thinking quietly. It was stupid, really, that they were cuddling in the openness of a park at almost midnight. Dangerous, definitely, especially when you took in the candle still flickering far too close to Kate’s now loose hair. Some more sensible people, maybe Farrah’s sister, would say that it was stupid how close they’d grown in so few hours. But Kate and Eva weren’t sensible people, not really, and maybe this was completely normal for them. Nerds lived life differently. “We’re not like other girls… we’re nerds.”

Kate barked out a laugh again, pressing yet another small kiss to the top of Eva’s head.

Eva thought she might melt into a puddle right then and there.

God, she was so in love.

Kate looked up at the sky. “Y’know, for all your philosophical talk, you should be an inspirational speaker. Be on goddamn TedTalks or something, blow the crowd away with all that ‘the future’s in the palm of my hand!!’ bullshit.”

“Well,” Eva said, trying to sound completely sober (and failing), “I think all I could ever want is in the palm of my hand, right now.”

Kate paused for a moment, registering the fact that Eva had just cupped her hands around their face. “Wow. That was smooth.”

“Right?? I’m honestly impressed and I was the one who said it. Wait, is that hubris? Oh shoot, am I developing an ego? Or maybe I’m just drunk?” Eva’s head was seriously starting to hurt.

“You deserve an ego,” Kate nodded sagely. “You are so amazing. Seriously. You should have an ego. Dab on the haters and all that jazz, right? Right.”

Eva giggled, unable to take her eyes away from Kate’s. “What the shit?”

“Dude! Dab on the haters. ‘m fuckin’ right, and you know I am.”

“Mkay.”

“Lit.” Kate dragged her gaze from Eva’s, instead staring up at the stars. “If we weren’t drunk right now, I’d be kissing the hell out of you.”

Eva pouted. Apparently Drunk-Eva was limited to the facial expressions of a twelve year old. “Who’s to say you can’t kiss me now.”

“We’re drunk, Eva.” They waved their hands, casually flipping off the moon. “Consent.”

“If you think about drunk...ness. Drunkenness? Drunkness. Whatever.” She coughed. “If you think about it like maths, then because we’re both drunk, it cancels out, right? Like, drunk you minus drunk me equals zero drunks overall, yeah?” Pausing, she ran a hand over her face, watching Kate smirk and wriggle closer out of the corner of her eye. “What I’m saying is, yes, I give you permission to kiss me-” Kate leaned closer and Eva laid a gentle finger on their lips. “But only if I get to kiss you back.”

The two met in the middle, naturally coming together. Some might describe them as magnets, two poles attracted, unable to stay away from each other. Others might say soulmates, meant to find each other from birth. Or, just maybe, stars, gravitationally pulled together, ready to explode into another plane of existence, one so different from our reality that we can’t even begin to imagine the wonders that they’ll find.

However, this is reality, and somehow Kate and Eva are still grounded on our Earth, stars maybe, but ones made of ancient stardust no longer free to travel the universe. They found themselves pulling apart after two worlds collided, an unknown period of time passing as it happened. Eva’s fingers didn’t untangle themselves from their comfortable seat amongst Kate’s hair, the closeness making their noses brush, spouting giggles from both young adults.

“Well, that was fun.” Kate brushed hair out of Eva’s face, one arm still wrapped tight around her waist, pulling her closer as she shivered in the night air.

“Yeah?” Eva pressed her forehead to theirs. “Why don’t we try it again, huh?”

---

“I told you so,” Farrah smirked, picking at a freshly baked blueberry muffin. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Eva huffed, failing to come up with an argument.

Over by the kitchen counter, Mattie snorted. “I find it kinda funny that the single girl insists that love is the answer to anything.”

“Well- it’s not like I’ve never dated!”

“Suuuuure,” Mattie rolled her eyes, hopping off the counter and snatching a muffin. “Anyways, at least Eva has a significant other now. That’s the biggest victory, right? Other than the celebratory muffins, of course.”

Eva sighed. “Is it really that big of a deal that Farrah’s plan worked?”

“Yep!” Farrah grinned, taking a bite of muffin.

“Technically, my plan, but okay,” Mattie shrugged.

Eva almost dropped her muffin. “What.”

Mattie grinned, a devilish glint appearing in her eye. “Believe it or not, I am also friends with none other than the amazing Chess, and since her friend Kate- who is also my friend, by the way- was being a mopey mess around the same time as you, I just had to take it upon myself to play matchmaker! So I’d like at least 50% of the credit and reward, please and thank you.”

“I- what-” Eva sputtered, trying to come to terms with the new information. “Mattie- you- oh my God.”

“Oh my God indeed,” Mattie bit into her muffin and swallowed. “So anyways, you’re welcome for getting you a girlfriend.”

Eva stared at the younger girl, mouth slightly open and muffin hanging loosely in her hand. Farrah clapped a hand over her mouth as she wheezed through a mess of sugar and blueberries, earning herself a death stare from Eva. Phone in one hand, Mattie continued eating her muffin as though nothing had happened, the teasing look on her face only exaggerating as her phone pinged with a message. “Oh! Speaking of, Chess is outside-”

She was cut off as the door burst open, the handle crashing into Eva’s bookcase, knocking her alarm clock to the ground and presenting two dishevelled figures in the doorway. One of them, a tall student probably in their last year of uni, puffed out a breath, a hand tightly clinging to a much shorter student squirming angrily. “Before you say anything, I tried to prevent any of this happening. Wheeler, I’m blaming you entirely for this.”

Mattie only laughed, offering Chess a muffin with her free hand, “Dude, it was totally your idea.”

Eva tried very hard not to stare as Kate finally freed herself from Chess’ grasp with an indignant yelp. “Fuck off! Eva, babe, sweetheart, love of my life, tell me you didn’t fucking know about this beforehand or I will break up with you.”

“No! God, no! You know I didn’t want to be there just as much as you did.” She rested her head gently on top of Kate’s, arms draped over their shoulders. “Believe you me, I’ve also been sorely betrayed today.”

Farrah gagged across the kitchen. “Ew. We should never have set you two up.”

“Bitch.” Eva grinned affectionately at her best friend, batting Kate’s hand down as they sent a middle finger in Farrah’s direction. Conversations carried on for a while, Chess finally being introduced to Farrah, with a muffin being forcefully placed into her hand. Kate whispered to Eva for a second before going out to take a call. Eva smiled knowingly, leaning on the counter to address Mattie, “So…”

Mattie made a face as Eva raised an eyebrow in her direction. “What are you thinking, Sanchez, I don’t like that face.”

“I don’t know…” She feigned thinking, sticking her tongue out as Kate re-entered the room. “Maybe, a little thank-you gift?? Y’know, me and Kate were thinking just now… Seeing as you set us up so nicely, how about you try a blind date yourself?”

Chess and Farrah stifled a laugh in unison, choking a little on their muffins as Mattie’s eyes got wider in horror. “You didn’t.”

Kate smiled sweetly. “Yup! Tonight, seven thirty. It’s payback time, kid.”

“I hate you.”

[sunaswife]

A Suna Rintarou series

Suna was the best boyfriend you could ask for, after fighting with your inner demons that screamed you were ugly, worthless, and annoying. You finally decided to go the next step with your boyfriend, only to find out it was all a game.

A/N: PART 11! After that crappy wannabe smutty chapter I decided to give you some small Suna fluff 😌

Warnings: underaged drinking, smut, guys talking badly about women, heartbreak, messed up shit that you shouldn’t do and a bit of fluff if you squint

Disc six-slide one: You and I 🤍 🖤

“Babe you gotta be more careful.” You sighed and gently held his fingers as you put ointment on them. “I’m a middle blocker that’s my job.” He deadpanned and you looked up. “I know but I just worry ya know? I’m your girlfriend that’s my job.” Today there was a practice match against a college team and Suna hurt his pinky and ring finger pretty bad, he had to sit out for the rest of the game. He sighed and leaned forward to put his head on your shoulder. You heard a hiss and you quickly apologized. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You told him. “Nah It’s fine.” He mumbled on your shoulder.

“Do you want any medicine?” You asked and he muttered a no. “Do you want cuddles?” You asked and he muttered an mhm. You kissed his cheek and wiped your hands on a towel. You moved on to the bandaids and you applied some on his fingers. You were being so gentle, Suna was about to fall asleep on your shoulder. “There all done.” You said and he moved back to look at his left hand. “Thanks princess. Feels better already. That ointment really works.” He said and you smiled. “One more thing.” You said and held on to his wrist. You lifted it up and kissed his knuckles. “There hopefully it’ll get better soon.” You said just to tease him. “God dammit why are you so FUCKING CUTE!” He said and pushed you down on his bed. His arms wrapped around you and he squeeze tight. “RIN I cAnT breath!” You squealed and he loosened his grip. “Jesus man.” You sigh and look up to see Rin already looking down. “I love you.” He said and you smiled. “I love you too you dork.” You replied and gave his lips a quick peck.

“It’s honestly so ridiculous how cute you are. Like what the fuck. You’re real and you’re mine.” He sighed in content and buried his face in your hair. The smell of your shampoo managed to calm his beating heart. “You’re always there and I appreciate it, a lot.” He murmured. “How long are your parents going to be out of town?” You asked. “They come back tomorrow night.” He replied. “Do you need me to stay with you so you can rest your hand?” You asked.

“You’d do that for me?” He asked suddenly and you nodded. “I don’t have clothes so I’ll steal some of yours but I don’t mind helping.” You told him and his grip tightened once again. “FUCK I have the cutest girlfriend EVER!” He said and made a ‘���’ face.

“I could get used to this.” Suna said and you jumped a bit, startled. “Dude don’t scare me like that.” You said and turned. You were in his family’s kitchen looking around to try to make something to eat. You settled on something quick and simple that you’ll know he’ll like.

“Did you just call me dude?” He squinted and you turned back to the stove. “Yeah, sorry.” You chuckled and sturred the food in the pan. His arms slowly wrapped around your waist from behind and you couldn’t hide your smile. “Smells delicious.” He mumbled in your ear and you giggled. His voice sounded deeper than usual since he just woke up from his nap. “Here try it. I made enough so your parents can eat some tomorrow night when they come home. They’ll probably be tired from traveling.” You slightly turned and blew on the spoon that held your food, after a few seconds you expected Suna to blow on it too when you put it in front of his mouth but he didn’t and just took a bite. He didn’t hiss that it was hot so you were glad about that.

“Wow that’s really good.” He said with brows raised. Why is he so shocked? You make him lunch all the time. Should you feel offended? “Also i don’t know if they’ll get a chance to even eat it. I’m tempted to eat everything.” He joked, “Osamu, chill.” You joked and he pinched your skin above his shorts. You squeaked and laughed, “Dont say another dudes name when I’m being all baby-like with you. It makes me jealous.” He said and you rolled your eyes and turned off the stove. “You‘re a big baby.” You said softly and pushed some hair away from his face. “But I’m your big baby.” He said and followed you around the kitchen while you looked for plates to serve the food.

“Is this how it’s going to be like in the future?” You asked and he paused. “No i won’t be the only one following you around, we’ll have a dog and a kid...maybe two.” He said and you choked on air. “Already thinking about children? You’re bold.” You spoke up. “Well I mean. I love you a lot. And I know you love me a lot too. After highschool we can work our asses off and then get married and have kids. I don’t know. I never thought about it before until I met you. Now sometimes when I go to sleep I think about us growing old together and that makes me happy.” He said and saw as you grabbed your phone and started typing. He frowned and was about to ask why you were ignoring him and texting instead but then you had a satisfied smile and the speakers of your phone played an unfamiliar piano tune.

“Babe, are you the lost member of one direction?” You asked and he raised a brow. Before he could respond you shushed him and showed him the lyrics to They Don’t know about Us.

He actually liked the song and how mellow but catchy it was. You started singing softly along with the song and screamed the octave Zayn sang. He chuckled at your nature and tsked when you pointed to him in order to serenade him on the mine girl part.

When the song finished you took your phone and placed it on the counter. “So..what do you think? Wanna do that when we’re older?” He asked as you handed him his plate.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He felt butterflies in his stomach as you kissed his cheek and shooed him to the dining room.

Yeah he could definitely get used to this.

Previously

Up next

Masterlist

A/N: I need the first person who wants to help give me ideas for the sequel to dm me RIGHT NOW I’m in a spiral and I need help deciding lol and I don’t feel like flipping a coin AGAIN. The first one or two people to dm me will sadly receive spoilers of what’s to come between Suna and Y/N 😔 but if ur down to help me out then thank you!! If not then it’s okay 🥺

EDIT: I ALREADY HAVE THE ENDING AND SEQUEL READY PLZ STOP GIVING ME AMAZING IDEAS THAT I WANNA DO INSTEAD 🥺

🏷: @therealwalmartjesus @differentballooncollection @aaesuki @atsunflower @dope-squish @prettysetterboiss @june-phantom @tomo-uwu @austriasmariazelle @xrnia @katsulia @aprettyfruit @shut-your-eyes-kiss-me-goodbye @tvbiio @sun-daddy-yoriichi @kamenoyaki @ppangiiroo @loeyprivvv @kmskj92 @lovinnoya @tris-does-stuff @mokkeguts @sunaluvr6969 @bara-rose-would @sempiternal-amour @volleybloop @leykyuu @bokutoichigo @stfucanunot @iloveanime691 @tpwkatsumu @ohshirabu @shoutosimp @mqrinqcele @bokutosdivineass @anngelllla @toworuu

[copias-thrall]

There’s Something About Mary

A day in the life of our crusty Mr. Goore

Mary POV chapter bc I want to and I can.

⬅️ Previous

*public masturbation, kinda*

Mary wakes up horny.

He must have been having a pleasant dream, because his cock is hard and throbbing where it rests heavy against his thigh. He shoves a hand down into his undone jeans to give his cock a squeeze—just for a moment of relief—and, as the touch wakes him up fully, he realizes he can hear the distinct sounds of sex from one of the rooms. A thump thump thump and a squeak squeak squeak, all punctuated with blatant moans.

Fuck it, he thinks, and he begins to jack it to the sex orchestra going on, not 10ft from where he lies on the couch. Once a place they sometimes took turns on, the couch has become Mary’s de facto room—a subtle punishment for his supposed defection. So, he has no qualms about masturbating in his room, and if any of the other guys have an issue with it, Mary has no problem making his display more public, just for spite.

He pauses only to spit in his hand when his dry palm begins to chafe. It doesn’t even matter when the noises from the other room cease (and later Mary will have to tease them about their staying power), Mary just scrolls through his mental Rolodex until he brings up the memory of his dick in between Suey’s tits, how they jiggled despite being held together, how shiny they became once covered in his jizz, and how she looked up at him as she contorted one to bring it up to her mouth to lap some off.

“Shit, shit,” he exclaims as the memory of her pink tongue lapping up his cum causes him to release. Some shoots up his bare chest, but most of it lands and pools in his belly button. Eyes still closed, his free hand shoots out and fumbles for the box of tissues on the table, encountering instead a stack of thin takeout napkins.

As he does his best to clean himself up with the napkins—whose integrity is suspect—he can hear the low rumble of male voices and a high, feminine giggle from the sex room. Just to be a jackass, he gets himself up so that he can have first dibs on the bathroom.

Making sure to lock the door behind him, Mary turns on the hot faucet, willing the water to warm up sooner than later. He takes the opportunity, while he waits, to piss in the toilet; it’s already open—toilet seat up—even though it’s supposed to put it down when they have guests. They’re out of TP again, so a roll of paper towels rests on the lid of the tank.

Once the water is warm enough, Mary uses a couple pieces from the roll to clean off the jizz drying and to give himself a brief wipe down. His face is still half crusty with makeup, and he’s tempted to just add to it, but he’s learned from hard experience how that can fuck up your face, so—even though it’s a goddamned pain—Mary washes his face. He even uses the harsh Dial hand soap, even though the acrid smell will get up into his nose for hours.

He thinks of the nice-smelling scrub Suey has and her drugstore face cream he sometimes rubs into his skin.

In the soap- and toothpaste-speckled mirror, he starts to apply his “Day Face” (as Suey calls it) from the communal box of makeup (his better stuff is in his backpack): a light dusting of white powder; some eyeliner all the way around; a dull, red lipstick; and black shadow on his cheekbones.

He’s just starting on his hair when there comes a pounding on the door

“Fucks’ sake. C’mon, Goore.”

Mary turns his head upside down in the sink basin so he can haphazardly splash some water into his hair.

“Fuck off, douchebag.”

He starts to work his fingers into his locks, coaxing the glue already in it to activate.

“She’s gotta pee, man.”

He fluffs his forelock in the mirror as his other hand searches for the blood tube in the box.

“We have a kitchen sink.”

A small voice tells him not to take his annoyance with his friends out on the girl, and he sighs.

“Stop being a di—”

The voice cuts off as Mary swings the door open. Brendan's angry face smooths into one of minor irritation. The girl—Lisa?—stands, thighs crushed together, in an oversized kitten t-shirt. She looks at Mary, wide-eyed; her gaze darts to his bare, wet chest before snapping back up.

“Lis,” he says, winking as he saunters out.

Her face crumples a little.

“Lizzy,” she says, and Mary’s stomach swoops a bit when he realizes he’s probably slept with her before.

He makes himself smile as she moves past him to the bathroom.

“That’s what I said: Liz.” He shoots her a finger gun at her as Brendan scowls at them both. When the door closes and Brendan is still glaring, Mary lets out a “What?”

“You sticking around for breakfast, man?”

Mary rolls his eyes. “I’m here, ain’t I?” He starts to paw through the plastic shelving drawers next to the couch for a shirt.

Brendan shrugs. “Thought your pussy-whipped ass might need to get back to that uptown princess of yours.”

He glares at Brendan. “Stop being dick.”

“She’s fucking slumming it, dude. I’m warning you.”

It’s not a new argument, so Mary just ignores him, instead trying to apply a bit of blood to the tip of his forelock using the heart compact Suey gave him.

Titus emerges from the shared room, yawning, in his terrible leopard print robe that’s way too short.

“Morning, asswipe,” he says to Mary as he walks by. “What’re we bitching about?”

Brendan says “uptown girl” as Mary says “nothing.”

Titus sighs.

“Jesus, Brendan. You gotta get over that. That’s Mary’s mistake to make.”

“You know what? Fuck this shit.” Mary starts getting his backpack in order.

“That’s right! Blow off another band meeting!” says Brendan, and Mary spins on his heel to stomp back.

He jabs a finger into his chest. “I’m here all the goddamned time, more than I am at her place. I come to every meeting you tell me about.”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you about anything. You should just be here. You should be committed,” hisses Brendan.

“I’m going to make some toast,” says Titus as he swishes toward the kitchen.

Mary rifles through his plastic draws and slams a notebook and loose papers onto the table.

“There’s mine, dude. Lyrics. Composition. Where’s yours?”

Donnie and Jamie wander out of their room.

“Not this shit again. It’s too fucking early,” says Donnie.

Brendan vibrates. “What about funds, man? A social media presence? You think all that happens by magic?”

“So I’m supposed to write, and compose, and do the budget?” snarls Mary.

“Guys,” moans Jamie.

“And our Insta is shit, by the way.”

“Fuck. Can we not?” moans Donnie.

Mary again jabs a finger at Brendan. “Then tell him to can it. I’ve already been exiled to the couch. I don’t need him picking fights because he doesn’t like my girlfriend, who—by the way—has never fucking done anything wrong.”

“You haven’t been exil—” Jamie starts.

“We were supposed to fucking share those rooms,” Mary hisses as he gesticulates. “I pay the same amount of rent, and yet I come home one day to find all my stuff in a pile in the living room. I have to wait for you guys to stop playing video games because ‘this is shared space’ to fucking sleep.”

“We all agreed—”

“No. You guys agreed. I didn’t get shit to say about it. So you’ll forgive me if I’m not too fucking keen on being pleasant.”

They all stand there, glowering at each other until Donnie says, “I need to take a goddamned piss,” and finds the bathroom door locked. At his soft The fuck? the lock clicks, and Lizzy opens the door cautiously.

“I’m sorry. It just. Seemed like you guys were getting into it.”

Brendan sighs. “C’mon, babe. Let’s get your stuff.”

The fight isn’t a new one, and—with no resolution in sight—they all drop the subject so they can get on with the breakfast of eggs on toast Titus brings out and the subsequent band meeting. The Brick—a cheap, overworked laptop—is brought out so they can go over band business: the budget; the van maintenance and parking costs; the gig and practice schedule is outlined so that they can align their work shifts; new merch ideas are bandied about; and they talk about how to improve their digital sales.

Mary’s leg jiggles impatiently.

The meeting breaks nearly 5hrs later; Jamie goes back to sleep because he’s got the night shift at the Quik•Mart; Brendan heads out for his afternoon shift at Target; it’s Donnie’s day off, so he cues up Mario Kart; and Titus decides he’s going to go pound on the drums in the practice space they rent, since his dad pays his bills.

Mary has been saddled with stopping by the local record stores to see if any of their physical CDs have sold to prove he’s “committed,” even though he’s got the closing shift at Sixes & Sevens.

As he’s leaving the building, he encounters Brendan, who is leaning against the brick, smoking a cigarette. Mary’s fingers twitch.

“So you’re not coming back tonight, then.”

“We have band business?”

“No.”

“Then, no.”

Brendan lets out a puff of smoke.

“You think I’m being a dick, but that girl does not care about you. She’s a tourist. Us—the band. That’s what’s real, Mary.”

Mary knows he should keep walking, but even after counting to 10, he’s still pissed, so he spins on his heel.

“You don’t know anything about her or her goddamned life.”

“Neither do you.” He finishes the smoke, then tosses it to the pavement to grind under his combat boot. “We’ll be here when it all explodes in your face, Goore. But you’re going to have to rebuild a lot of bridges.”

And then he’s off down the sidewalk. Mary stands there, seething, waiting until Brendan disappears round the corner since he’s also headed in that direction.

He’s not really in the best of moods when he hits up the first store, but by the 4th, he’s back to his plucky repartee. The owner of his favorite shop intimates that a vinyl version of their LP might sell much better than their DIY CD, and Mary enthusiastically thanks the dude as if it’s the first time such a concept has been considered.

The whole route honestly doesn’t even really take that much time at all—maybe 2 hours—so he chances stopping by Suey’s. Worst case, he’ll take a nap; best case, she’ll be there to bitch at him.

Like everything else today, however, circumstances are just not on his side, and he opens the door to her tiny fucking apartment to find it empty. The mail is bad again, and he rifles through it, plucking out anything that’s obviously junk to toss and anything that looks like a bill to put on her counter. There’s only a bowl in the sink, so he leaves it.

He’s hoping that she comes home before he has to leave—maybe she’ll even give him a blow job—as he wraps himself up in the afghan that smells slightly of her.

She doesn’t.

His alarm wakes him up at 4:15pm for his shift at 6. Groggily, he stumbles to the fridge to see what there is to eat, and finds a pot crammed in haphazardly amongst the other food items. Mary’s not really sure what he’s looking at—Suey tends to just throw shit together when she can’t be bothered, but most of the time it’s edible.

It ends up being some sort of cheesy potato stew and actually isn’t that bad. He eats the whole thing out of the pot before scrubbing it and the lone bowl clean. He waits as long as he dares to watch her come clomping tiredly through her door, but he really does have to leave. He leaves a kiss on her mirror after he reapplies his lipstick. (He should probably redo his face but: eh.)

Work is work. It starts slow—with Mary taking down the chairs and wiping off everything with the disinfectant spray. Sometimes Mary finds this kind of Zen—a time to hum out chords and roll around lyrics in his head—but today he’s just tired. It gets a little better when Mickey and the other bartender show up to do citrus prep. It’s a weekday, so there’s only a moderate crowd, and Mickey leaves them to it so he can do business manager-type things in his office.

And then there are the girls. Most of the girls who come to Sixes & Sevens aren’t the type to be put off by Mary’s whole shtick—and there are obviously the ones who come here expressly to flirt with him—so he has no qualms turning on his charms. Mickey lets him do it because customers are customers, and if girls want to come and spend money on drinks while they purr at Mary, who is Mickey to stop them? Len or Mika don’t give a shit because tips are pooled.

Used to be Mary could have his pick of a warm body for the evening—some girl (or occasionally some guy if Mary deemed him beefy enough) who’d take him to her nice-smelling, clean apartment … who’d let him spend the night on her soft, downy pillows after he pounded her into next year, before kicking him out at dawn. But now he’s got a girlfriend—one who makes sure he eats and yells at him to wash his face—waiting for him in her stale apartment with her flat, polyester pillows, and Mary hopes he’s not fool enough to fuck that up.

Not that his dick has gotten the memo.

No matter how many times Mary tells that fucker that he’s not going to fuck any of these women, his dick still twitches in interest whenever plump lips are wrapped around straws or fingertips trail over his hand. Tonight is especially bad for some reason, and Mary has to stick close to the walls of the bar so that no one can see his semi. A girl in a furry, white shrug seems particularly on his dick, and he does his best to flirt just enough for a good tip, but not enough for a proposition.

When he gets his break, Mary takes it out back in the alley by the dumpster. The air is chill, but it feels good after the humidity of the bar. He was hoping maybe his dick would go down, but it’s like it’s trying to spite him. Leaning his head back on the wall, he can’t help but close his eyes and run his palm lightly over the outline. It’s a fool’s errand—it’s not like he can get off without it showing on his pants—but that doesn’t stop him from touching.

A voice clears, and Mary startles. He’s out here by the rancid garbage so he can be alone, so he wasn’t really expecting to find anyone else.

“I can help you with that,” says the girl with the white fur that may or may not be real. She’s standing across from him, and he can see that she’s in a dress so simple that it must be hella expensive. She’s holding an unlit cigarette.

Mary jerks his hand away from his crotch, shifting so that he can surreptitiously adjust his jeans.

“The fuck are you doing out back here?”

She shrugs. “Needed to get away from my bitches. I love them but: drama city. You got a light?”

He knows it’s a ruse, but he still fumbles out his Zippo because he’s a goddamned gentleman. She, shockingly, takes the opportunity to move in closer to his body as he holds out the flame … close enough to blow the smoke of the first drag in his face.

“So,” she says, eyes darting down to his semi. “You want me suck that?” She gesticulates with her chin, posture nonchalant but eyes hungry.

His dick gives an answering throb, but he shrugs. “Nah. I got a girl.”

She looks at him, assessing, before half crossing her arms and taking another drag. Smoke pours out her nose.

“She’s not here.”

Mary doesn’t respond immediately, not knowing how to get out of this. She hasn’t said anything untrue. He’s horny, Suey’s not here, and she wants to suck his cock.

He reaches his hand up and taps his breast where he thinks his heart is.

“She’s here,” he says, and he’s glad Suey’s not present because hoo boy would she give him shit for that winner.

The girl just tilts her head at him, this time blowing smoke out the side of her mouth after she inhales. It occurs to Mary that he wants her cigarette more than his dick wants to be sucked. If she thinks this is some kind of elaborate game of hard to get, she’s sorely mistaken.

“You got a picture?”

“A … what?”

She gesticulates impatiently. “A picture. Of this girlfriend.”

Mary thinks, then pats around for his wallet, even though he only ever puts it in his back pocket. When she sees the wallet come out, she laughs.

“An actual picture? That’s old school.”

He shrugs as he rifles. “I’m on my break.” He doesn’t tell her that his ancient flip phone doesn’t take pictures. Well, not good ones.

The photo of Suey he has is relatively new—slipped in behind the old, worn one of his mum—but its edges are starting to soften. In the image, Suey stands, hip popped, as she gives him the finger with a snotty look on her face. She’s in one of her weird 90′s outfits—a micro mini and tied up band tee—and the cute pudge of her belly hangs over her waist band a little. Her hair is pushed back from her face because she’s just lifted up her sunglasses—there’s still a little mark on her nose where they were resting.

She hates this picture, but her attitude makes him smile.

“You gonna ogle it all night, Mary?”

Mary’s attention snaps back to the alley. He ignores the intimacy. Carefully, with a stern look on his face that he hopes conveys how much the photo is not to be fucked with, he hands the picture over.

White Fur looks at the picture for a long time. Then she looks up at him. She gives the image one more glance before handing it back to him.

“Yeah, ok,” she says as she crosses her arms again.

Mary tucks the photo back into his wallet.

“The fuck does that mean?” he scowls. He’s just about had it with people insulting Suey today, and some random-ass girl in a back alley is the last person he’d let get away with it, even if she is a fan.

She takes her last drag before flicking the stub in the direction of a dumpster.

“Dunno. You seem like the type to have some scene girl with more legs than brains hanging off your arm.”

Mary thinks that’s a little uncharitable: he’s always been an equal-opportunity lay.

“She seems legit though,” the girl continues. “Makes sense.”

“Uh. Thanks?”

“Yeah, no problem.” She heads for the door, but stops to smirk at him. “Looks like I helped after all.”

As she swings back inside, Mary looks down to realize his hard-on is gone.

Mickey doesn’t cut him early, but he doesn’t make him stay past closing either. Even so, it’s still after 3am when he gets to Suey’s. The bills are gone from the counter, but there are no new dishes in the sink. He opens the fridge to find a pizza box crumpled into the top, balanced precariously on the other items. Mary takes it out and inhales the cold pizza right from the box; he knows they’re all for him because Suey fucking hates pepperoni. (Though it doesn’t escape his notice that she’s put one piece of pineapple in the center to mess with him.)

He leaves the box by the trash (he’ll flatten it tomorrow), and then makes his way to her bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, lest he incur her wrath.

When he finally wiggles into her twin bed in his boxers, he’s bone tired. His dick still kinda wants some action, but Mary thinks he’d probably just fall asleep in the middle, and Suey really would bite his head off if he woke her up for no reason. He wishes she’d just sleep nude, but finding her in one of his well-worn shirts is the next best thing. He doesn’t mean to wake her up, but he can’t help himself from running his hands all over her—this girl who sees him and not his “image.”

“Mare?” she says in a quiet, sleepy voice.

He kisses her head.

“Go back to sleep, baby doll.”

She doesn’t speak again, but she squirms around until she’s sprawled across his chest. He’d prefer to have her caught up in a little spoon, but having her pressed into him—body sleep warm—is nothing to wave a stick at.

This is all he wanted, anyway.

Next ➡️

[dadoroki]

You Are My Soulmate

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Warning: Fluff, food fight, frenemies to lovers idk

Summary: Imagine being stuck by a single thread connecting you to an angry gremlin. Despite your “hatred” for one another, you both agreed to destroy the one thing connecting you two together.

Heavily inspired by a Bts Friends anamatic!

You, Izuku, and Katsuki used to be the best of childhood friends. Just the three of you playing outside the park after school. However, when you got too close to Izuku, young Katsuki would always feel the pang of jealousy, dragging you by the hand to another area of the park.

“C’mon (y/n), you don’t wanna be with that quirkless loser!”

You knew the two boys had a weird friendship but brushed it off. You turned and motioned a sad Izuku to follow, the frown quickly turning into a smile as he ran to catch up with the two of you.

Middle school was where it all started to change. Izuku and Katsuki’s relationship began to spiral into something more toxic. At this age, you were capable of seeing the wrongs of Katsuki, voicing your opinions to him only to be ignored. As the people around you started developing and strengthening their quirks, it was then people started comparing eachother to see which were more powerful. Katsuki wanted to be the best. To be better than everyone else. To become the number 1 hero.

“I dunno, dude. Bakugou’s explosions are strong but have you seen (y/n)’s telekinesis?”

When he heard others comparing your quirk to his, arguing who was stronger, that’s when it all changed. His care towards you turned into anger, turned to jealousy, turned to hatred. He didn’t see you as the girl he had a slight crush on. No. To him, you were now competition. An obstacle that was in his way. He started to ignore your calls and spent less time with you. You were a bit hurt but knew it was the best for you, sticking by the green-haired teen. After middle school, the three of you applied and got accepted to UA.

“Oi, magician! You’re in my damn line of sight! Do a magic trick and move!”

Through the busy caf, you turn to see the angry blonde glaring at you with an embarrassed Kirishima giving you an apologetic look. You fully faced him with a hand on your hip. “Then close your frickin’ eyes. Nobody wants to see creepy eyes staring at them. Especially not yours.” That made the man turn red with full anger.

“HUH, WHAT DID YOU SAY?! I CAN KILL YOU ON THE SPOT RIGHT NOW!”

You turned around ignoring the angry calls followed by Kirishima and his friends attempting to calm him down. “You might just end up killing yourself by a heart attack, don’t cha’ think?” That only fuelled the man even more. “I don’t even know how you got accepted! You’re useless just like your quirk! Just like that quirkless Deku”, he shouts as he tries to instigate the situation, to which he succeeds. You whirled your head around, hair flowing as it follows your head movement. You raised your hand, Bakugou’s lunch raising up with it. Full force, you pushed forwards and the food makes a strong impact towards his face. Gasps were heard and it was the one time you heard silence from the gremlin. “Hm, that’s interesting. Did you just get a haircut?”

The man slammed his fist on the table, furiously wiping away the dripping food off his face. “SO THAT’S HOW YOU WANNA PLAY?! WELL I HAVE ALL DAY, IDIOT!” He exploded whatever food was left on the table, quickly swipping it all towards you. Chaos began as others joined in too. You and Bakugou exchanged food blows, both full of dirty clothes.

Bakugou had enough, aiming his explosive hand towards you before the both of you were being dragged by a cloth-like equipment. You were both faced by an angry Mr. Aizawa. You chuckled nervously. “Oh, hey sir. Um..a food fight only consist of food and...” You motioned towards the material only earning a harder stare. “Both of you to the principal’s office. Now!” Bakugou scoffed as he pushed off the tangled cloth.

“Next time, work on your aim, you freak. You hit purple balls majority of the time.” Bakugou said as he rolled his eyes and headed towards the office. You caught up beside him with a smirk.

“No, that was intentional.”

It’s been a week since the food fight. That day, Bakugou only had 3 days of punishment while you had 4. The morning sun flashed through the crack of your dorm room curtain, waking you up. You sighed and got off your bed, heading towards the kitchen. Laying on the counter was a single bag of cinnamon twists. You reached to grab it, only for the other side to be matched with a tug.

“Oi, you freak! Let go, it’s mine!”

You furrowed your eyebrows, pulling on your side of the bag. “Don’t care. I saw it first.” You saw the famous colour of red flush his face and swore you saw smoke coming out of his ears. “ARE YOU STUPID?! I SAW IT FIRST!” After multiple tugs and pulls, the bag broke with all the cinnamon twists falling to the ground, the both of you being left with the small corners of the bag. You both stared at the ground in disbelief. Pointing at eachother ready to cast the blame on one another, you noticed a red string wrapped around the tips of both your fingers, connecting you two. Bakugou’s eyes darted the thin string.

“Hey, what the hell? Get off of me!”

“Get off of you?! Why don’t you get off of me?!”

Just like the bag of cinnamon twists, you both turned your full attention on the red string, playing a violent game of tug-of-war. The harder you both tried, the tired you both grew. This was never gonna get off of you, would it?

Nope.

Weeks went on and you stood in front of the planning board in your room. Your eyes glanced around the planner, the bolded title: The Red String with a violently scribbled subtitle in red underneath reading: Plan: DESTROY IT! You and Bakugou tried everything. From burning it with Todoroki’s flames to freezing it with his ice. From Bakugou’s explosions to Kaminari’s electricity and til’ this day, Bakugou still calls you stupid for that. But hey, you were desperate to try anything and Kaminari’s yay mode was worth it.

You stared at the calm blonde laying on your bed, uninterested in what you were doing and creating knots with the string. You thoughts were interrupted buy an annoyed sigh. “Hey, idiot. Are you done with that? I wanna get to sleep.” You switched off the lights and then realized, “Wait, that’s my bed. Get off my bed.” You tried nudging his back with your foot, only earning a snore in return. Sighing you dropped yourself to the ground, stealing your blanket off of Bakugou and laying it on top of you. Your body fidgeted due to the uncomfortable sting the ground was giving your back.

“Oi! quit it. I’m trying to sleep.”

You scoffed and wiggled your attached finger more to irrate him. “Yeah, I’m trying too.” He peeked down at you and signaled for you to get up. You did in confusion before watching him roughly tug the string and making you fall on top of him. He pushed you off and beside him, gripping your waist and resting his head behind your neck. You were quiet, unable to move and unable to process what had happened. He lifted his head up a bit.

“Shut up, idiot. It’s the only way we both can sleep comfortably.” However, you both woke up that very morning with the strings tangling you up against eachother.

It was the normal routine. Finding a way to get this stupid thread off of you both. Everyone around you found it amusing how hard you both tried. Two hotheads in a pot. As the days went by, instead of finding a solution, you both took advantage of it, seeing who could annoy the other more.

He had complained that it was too cold in the dorm foyer. Being the nice person you were, you had helped by turning the fan on. That only made it worse as the string got stuck in the blades, both of you being dragged and yelling at eachother to “turn it off!” and him calling you an idiot. One day, Bakugou had pulled the string, forcing you both to embrace eachother. He told you that he really liked you being around him. You thought it was a nice gesture at first until others pointed out a sticky note on your back reading, “I’m a loser”.

After another round of your long and intense game of tug-of-war, you both fell to the ground with exhaustion. “We’re never gonna get this off, are we?” Bakugou stayed silent before asking you.

“Hey, magic hands... I was wondering”, he scratched the back of his head before continuing, “Do you wanna, I don’t know? Pick flowers or make fun of people?”

You stared at the man dumbfounded and squinted at him. “Whut?”

His eyes widened and he looked away with a scoff. “Don’t look at me with that stupid expression! Just, nevermind. Pretened I didn’t say anything, ok?”

You tried your best to put the puzzle together and after a while, you did. “Huhhh, is Katsuki Bakugou asking me on a date?” You smirked as you leaned on his muscular arm. He quickly brushed his arm away from you. “Pfft, in your dreams, nerd.” You pretended to sigh pressing your chin to your collarbone. “What a shame, I actually started to like you...”, you trailed watching him turn his head to you.

“Fine, but I’m only doing this because I can’t stand your annoying whines so be grateful.”

Typical stubborn Katsuki.

You rested your head back on his arm, only this time he never pushed you off.

“You know I hate you, right?”

The longer you both spent with eachother, the more your affection for one another grew. Who knew that a simple kiss could release the knot on your fingers but that didn’t stop the both of you from spending time together. You had later learned that the whole class 1A had made a bet on the two of you, Momo using her quirk to create an inseparable thread that’s grip could only be released when the affection between the two grew.

And it sure did.

[aliciameade]

Ready Or Not

Title: Ready Or Not Author: aliciameade Rating: E for Every Lady Gets an Orgasm Pairing: Beca/Chloe Summary: AND THEY WERE QUARANTINED.

Also on AO3

It’s funny, Beca thinks, how you can live with someone for years going about your separate but intertwined lives that when your government tells you to stay inside, to only socialize with the people you share a home with, how quickly things can change.

“Chloe, will you please turn off the news? I can’t listen to that idiot anymore.”

“Sorry; it’s like a train wreck. I can’t look away.” Chloe finds the remote in the cushions of the couch and changes the channel to the E! Network.

The news isn’t much different there; they’re showing videos celebrities have posted on social media about how bored they are or singing off-key versions of ‘Imagine’ to try to uplift the public only for the anchors, two of them standing six-feet apart, to debate whether or not such things are in poor taste.

“Are we supposed to feel bad for these multi-millionaires being stuck in their mansions with their huge yards and private swimming pools?” is the point being argued.

“Yeah, boohoo,” Beca says as she drops onto the couch next to Chloe. She’d gone to the kitchen to get a new bag of chips but managed to make a healthier decision and came back with a bowl of grapes instead. “We don’t even have a pool.”

“But at least we don’t have a bathtub in our kitchen anymore,” Chloe says as she helps herself to a few of Beca’s grapes.

Beca nods in response. This whole social distancing thing would have been a lot more irritating if it had happened last year when she and Chloe shared an impossibly small studio apartment (if you could even call it that) with Fat Amy. The thought of being locked in that space for weeks makes Beca’s skin crawl. She loves Amy, but she is not the tidiest or quietest of roommates.

She glances at Chloe, fresh-faced and hair damp after the shower she just took, tucked into her couch-nest with a fuzzy blanket and thinks there are about a million worse scenarios she could be stuck in than this one.

It had been nice to get that paycheck from Khaled’s record label. It had been just as nice for Amy to get access to the hundred-plus million dollars she somehow had. They were able to part ways without the guilt and drama Amy was prone to when asked to take responsibility for something. She’d been eager to drop a cool ten million on a house in the South of France. It made Beca’s job of breaking the news that she wouldn’t be renewing their lease a lot easier.

She’s still not quite sure how it happened, though. Maybe it was because Chloe was the only one who didn’t suddenly have an unnecessary amount of money at her disposal. Maybe it was because their orbits were always drawn to one another.

But when Beca moved to Los Angeles and bought a house, Chloe rush-applied to area veterinary schools to beat the looming application deadlines and managed to get into one.

They hadn’t even really discussed it. “Beca moving to LA” was inclusive of “Chloe moving to LA to live with Beca.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t post that video of us playing catch out back,” Beca says as they watch the debate about people who are privileged and whether they are out of touch with reality or if hardship and inconvenience is relative.

“Maybe not,” Chloe agrees.

It’s not that Beca thinks she’d ever show up as a debate topic on tabloid television, but she’d rather not risk it.

“What do you want to do today? And don’t say Monopoly,” she adds as soon as Chloe’s mouth opens to answer.

Chloe immediately whines. “But I want us to play!”

“And I want us to still be friends when this is over,” Beca says with a biting, sarcastic smile.

“Ooh, I know!” Chloe says, unfazed by Beca’s rejection. “Let’s get drunk!”

“That’s not really an activity…” Beca says but she knows she’s going to lose this debate.

Chloe’s already detangling herself from her blanket and heading toward the kitchen. “If getting drunk at 3:00 in the afternoon isn’t acceptable during a viral pandemic, then when  is it?”

Beca just shakes her head. She’s opposed to the idea, it’s just that Chloe is so...Chloe.

Chloe who usually gets her way, not because she’s a good negotiator but because Beca finds it almost impossible to tell her ‘no.’ (Activities that would lead to contempt and arguing like a game of Monopoly are exceptions.)

“Beer or wine?” Chloe calls from the other room.

“I don’t care,” Beca yells back. If there’s one thing they stocked up on far more than she knows was necessary, it was alcohol.

She should have made a choice. She knows better. When Chloe returns, she’s holding a bottle of expensive tequila, a shot glass nestled in one of two tumblers, and a plastic bowl of ice.

“Oh, whoa, seriously?” she says as Chloe sets her wares down on the smooth black coffee table with a smile. Shots of tequila weren’t exactly what Beca had in mind.

“Calm down, I have to make another trip. I’m making margaritas.”

Not that she wouldn’t have done them if that had been Chloe’s intention.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

“You know what we should do?”

Beca looks down at Chloe who’s using Beca’s leg as a pillow. “Hmm?”

“We should play hide-and-seek!”

Beca’s not sure what she expected Chloe to propose, but it definitely wasn’t that. “Dude, what?”

“Yeah!” Chloe says, suddenly full of energy after dozing on the couch for a few minutes. She scrambles to sit up. “Come on; it’ll be fun!”

All she can do is stare at her and her dumb, pretty face. “Fine,” she relents (much too easily).

Chloe squeals and immediately covers her eyes with her hands. “I’ll count to 100. Go.”

Beca’s reluctant agreement morphs into nervous adrenaline as soon as Chloe begins counting and she leaps off the couch, stumbling when her foot gets caught in Chloe’s blanket.

She hears Chloe laugh through her numbers and realizes Chloe can hear her route. She mutes her steps, creeping quickly but quietly away as her mind races for the optimal hiding spot.

Then she’s got it.

She walks as lightly as she can through the house until she’s taking the stairs two at a time to get to what will eventually be an office or study (she hates herself a little that she bought a house that will have a study in it). It’s still empty save for a few dozen books on the shelves, some of them novels, some of them old textbooks. The room has a closet and when Beca had been scoping out good storage spots in the house for things like seasonal decorations, she’d found what was arguably a creepy-as-fuck hidden door in the wall of the closet.

She never got around to telling Chloe about it; she’d been at a day-long lab that Beca didn’t want to interrupt with a text and then she promptly forgot about it.

Until now.

She creeps through the second floor, wincing when she hits a squeaky floorboard in the hallway. The rest of her journey is silent, though, and she pops open the push-latch door to slip inside and close it behind her.

She can hear Chloe’s voice faintly yelling, “Ready or not, here I come!” and regrets not bringing her phone with her.

There’s no way Chloe’s going to find her any time soon. Plus, it’s pitch-dark.

Chloe’s voice echoes around the house, taunting Beca as she searches downstairs. It makes Beca snicker because Chloe is way, way off until she can tell she’s making her way up the stairs.

“You could at least make it difficult for me,” Chloe says somewhere in the hallway, still taunting as if it will goad Beca into revealing herself.

She can hear her opening and closing closet doors in the hall and the other rooms but she remains confident even when she can hear Chloe’s voice quite clearly from the study a few feet away.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Chloe sing-songs and Beca hates that it makes her anxious. Her voice is louder like she’s just outside the door that Chloe doesn’t even know exists when it suddenly pops open, blinding Beca with a flood of light.

“Gotcha!” Chloe says with a jump of victory but Beca’s too quick for her, something her petite stature is good for. 

She scrambles out of the closet and past Chloe. “You didn’t tag me!” she yells, grinning as she launches into a full sprint, nearly sliding down the stairs to make it back to the couch in time.

“We didn’t declare a home base!” Chloe shrieks behind her and Beca can hear her running, too.

“It’s the couch!”

“Not fair!” Chloe yells and Beca hears her on the steps.

It makes her launch herself onto the couch, right over the arm of it and she scrambles for the blanket to hide under even though she’s already safe; it’s silly adrenaline and she can’t stop smiling as she hears Chloe in a full-out run through the living room.

“No!” Her cry of defeat is nearly a wail and Beca’s still savoring victory when the wind is nearly knocked out of her.

“Dude!” she says when Chloe lands right on top of her. “I made it back, you can’t tag me!”

She fights to hang on to the blanket as Chloe tugs it away until it’s off her face, leaving Beca to sputter and try to blow hair out of her eyes. She stops when she sees Chloe above her, face flushed from excitement and exertion smiling down at her. But the smile is fading, bit by bit, into something else and it feels like the air around them shifts.

“You cheated,” Chloe says.

Beca has to swallow the sudden lump in her throat. “Not my fault you don’t know the rules.”

She keeps waiting for Chloe to move off her and let her up, to tell her it’s Beca’s turn to count and Chloe’s turn to hide, but instead, Chloe seems to get heavier, to press Beca further into the couch beneath her.

An eternity seems to pass. She struggles to keep her gaze steady; it’s hard to hold eye contact with Chloe in a normal setting: they’re so bright and full of life. It’s a relief when Chloe’s are the first to break eye contact but only until Beca realizes Chloe’s focus shifted, albeit briefly, to her lips.

Her heart had been racing from the excitement of the game and the thrill of the win but suddenly it’s for an entirely different reason.

When Chloe looks up again Beca can’t help but let her own eyes flick down, almost feeling like if Chloe was allowed to, Beca should be allowed to, too. It’s subconscious for Beca to wet her lips when she sees the way Chloe’s are parted the tiniest bit.

Her mind races as quickly as her heart. She’s thought about this so many times over their decade of friendship. The way they’ve always danced around each other (while still dancing with each other all the time). How it wasn’t even up for debate that Chloe would move to Los Angeles, too. How she didn’t hesitate to put the house in both their names, not just her own. How she’s been a little bit (a lot) in love with her friend for so many years.

She wonders if Chloe’s moving closer or if it’s her imagination. If she is, she’s moving so slowly it’s almost indiscernible, but her eyes keep flicking down and back up. It’s excruciating to wait to find out what is about to happen. What Beca thinks is about to happen.

What Beca decides to make happen as she lifts her head and presses her lips to Chloe’s.

It’s another eternal moment but it passes in the blink of an eye.

There’s some kind of sound from Chloe, maybe a whimper?, and Beca’s not quite finished regretting her actions that will surely make things super weird between them when Chloe’s tongue slips across her lips and into Beca’s mouth.

It shouldn’t happen so fast. It shouldn’t be so natural for Beca to tilt her head to the left just as Chloe tilts hers. She shouldn’t feel so hot so quickly; Chloe helps as much as she contributes to it, suddenly tugging at the blanket between them to let it fall to the floor. It gives Beca a second of cool air before Chloe’s body is on her instead. It shouldn’t be so mindless for her to twist her hips and part her knees so Chloe can fit against her more comfortably.

It shouldn’t be a lot of things, but Beca stops listing off all the things it shouldn’t be in favor of all the things it is.

Like how desperate and heated their kiss has become. How Chloe doesn’t seem to know what to do with her hands since this began in a slightly awkward position but doesn’t quite want to stop to rearrange herself so instead her fingers bury themselves in Beca’s hair.

Beca doesn’t have the same problem. Her hands are free to roam, and she lets them roam.

Chloe’s back is solid beneath her hands. She can feel it every time Chloe takes a breath. They’re uneven and deep and in synch with Beca’s because the only chance they have to take in air is when Chloe lifts her mouth from Beca’s. Even the few seconds they spare for oxygen feel like too much time apart for Beca and she finds herself chasing Chloe’s lips even though they’re both breathing hard.

She catches Chloe off-guard, cutting into their oxygen break with her tongue. She’s thought endlessly of what it would be like to frame Chloe’s perfect face with her hands, tilt it to the angle she wants, and keep her there to make her submit to whatever Beca wants to do to her mouth.

The moan that escapes Chloe when Beca does just that, tongue pushing far into Chloe’s mouth to explore before retreating to start licking over Chloe’s makes a sound escape Beca, too.

It’s as though the mutual audible release is gasoline to a lit match.

Chloe’s entire body shifts forward into Beca and it makes Beca moan again and give up the brief control she had as Chloe kisses her so hard her head presses uncomfortably against the arm of the couch. Her neck is going to be killing her tomorrow but she doesn’t care. There’s only one thing aching right now and it’s between her legs where Chloe’s hips are resting, though they’re hardly at rest.

Beca doesn’t know at what point they started moving together but her hips are lifting to meet Chloe’s every time Chloe’s rock forward into her. 

She parts her knees further until she finally just gives in and hooks her left leg, the one not pinned against the back of the couch, around Chloe’s waist.

She hears her name on Chloe’s lips, an exhale between kisses that somehow keep getting hotter and wetter...just like she is elsewhere. Chloe’s hips shift their angle; it’s subtle but the difference is immense and the moan that escapes Beca when Chloe rocks into her in the exact right place is almost embarrassing.

She doesn’t have time for embarrassment, though. Not when Chloe pulls back from the kiss to look down at her. Her slow, steady pace doesn’t let up, though, and Beca knows she just wants to see Beca’s face while she does it. She knows because if their roles were reversed, she’d want to see Chloe’s reaction, too.

It’s intense to be watched this way. She wonders if Chloe is fully aware of just how much she’s affecting Beca, if she’s thinking about how far this could go or how quickly. If she wants it to.

The way she’s looking down at Beca, though, her eyes dark as she finally starts to adjust herself so her arms aren’t trapped, tell Beca Chloe isn’t thinking about stopping.

Beca’s fine with that.

She moves with Chloe, both of them shifting down on the couch so Beca’s neck isn’t stuck at a terrible angle and so Chloe can finally prop herself up on an elbow. She watches—and feels—Chloe’s hand ease out of her hair, fingertips drifting along Beca’s cheek and jawline to her neck. They stroke softly there, along her throat and Beca swallows. Chloe’s watching so intently, both where her fingers travel and how Beca responds to them.

She wants to ask for more but isn’t quite sure. Isn’t quite sure if this is cabin fever and a brief (it has been anything but brief) make-out session between bored, tipsy close friends. Isn’t quite sure what it will mean for them if she lets go of what little self-control she’s maintaining and rocks herself into Chloe until she comes.

She lets her own hands roam again, beyond Chloe’s back and neck and shoulders and hair to her throat, mirroring with both hands how Chloe’s fingers are touching her. Her skin is hot beneath Beca’s fingers and she can feel under her jaw the way her heart is pounding. She can feel how she swallows when Beca’s fingers find the dip between her clavicles and how her breathing speeds up after easing during their momentary break from kissing as Beca’s fingernails trace along the smooth skin along her décolletage. There’s so much of it on display.

Chloe’s touch is now following Beca’s, drawing lines and circles along the edge of her V-neck tee. 

Beca gets stuck, though; Chloe’s skin feels so nice under her fingers and she’s never touched her, not like this, along the lines of her collar bones and the tendons in her neck and the slight dip that will give way to cleavage if she were to follow it. She gets stuck but Chloe doesn’t. Chloe’s touch finally breaks past the collar of Beca’s shirt to travel lower, over the thin material. It only takes a second or two before her fingers are grazing over the curve of Beca’s left breast.

Beca’s entire body tries to arch into it, a reaction that makes Chloe’s jaw drop, which is the last thing Beca sees before her eyes close when Chloe leans down to start kissing her again.

She whines a little, starting to feel desperate (an understatement) for release. 

The sound seems to spur Chloe on, her kiss quickly returning to the deep, passionate exchanges they’ve been sharing. The hand at Beca’s breast gets more daring, more exploratory and Beca knows when Chloe finds its peak, not because she feels it (God, she feels it) but because Chloe’s touch slows, circling the surely visible rise.

Beca’s hands just fall away from Chloe, not because she doesn’t want to touch her but because her brain’s ability to do more than one thing at a time is being reduced. Meeting Chloe’s tongue and lips and pushing her hips into her, again and again, is about all she can manage.

Chloe must read her mini-collapse as further surrender (it was, really) because her exploratory touch, circling Beca’s nipple again and again with the edge of her fingernail, suddenly changes. Her fingers close against it and Beca’s thin bra and shirt might as well be nonexistent for as much as she feels it. Beca groans and her hips throw themselves up into Chloe with needy force and Chloe echoes her, pushing into Beca harder, her pace suddenly increasing.

It’s so difficult to breathe with Chloe’s tongue filling her mouth again and again but Beca’s ready to suffocate before she gives it up.

She also knows she’s going to come. Soon. She’s resigned herself to it and will deal with the consequences later; she feels she has a solid defense: Chloe tonguefucking her mouth the way she has been is a pretty stellar excuse.

She doesn’t know where the fuck she learned to kiss like this, but Beca is so, so grateful.

She can hear herself moaning, can hear how often it’s happening. She can hear Chloe, too, and the sound is turning Beca on almost as much as the way Chloe’s touching her.

The incessant attention to her nipple disappears and she whines in protest but all Chloe does is shush her and then kiss her more deeply. She feels Chloe’s hand on her stomach and sucks it in not out of vanity but because it almost tickles. But her hand is steady; it doesn’t linger to risk bumping into what are Beca’s few ticklish spots (Chloe knows them well). It moves confidently lower and Beca gasps when she feels her fingertips move over the waistband of her leggings because there’s only one reason Chloe’s hand would be moving in that direction.

The sound she makes when Chloe’s fingers graze between her legs, over the thin, form-fitting material of her pants, is obscene.

It makes Chloe’s mouth rip away from hers. “Fuck, Bec, you’re so wet.”

Beca hadn’t thought of that; she hadn’t thought about the fact that she was in leggings and nothing else because why did she need to be for a day of lounging around and what would happen if she ended up grinding with Chloe on the couch.

If Chloe means for her to respond she doesn’t give her enough time to do so. Her mouth is on Beca’s again to swallow Beca’s pitiful groan as fingers press down firmly against her. Now she can feel what Chloe felt, the soaked fabric slipping against her body with every lift of her hips.

As suddenly as Chloe cut her off her kiss ends again and Beca watches her lift herself a little higher; she wonders what she’s doing until she realizes Chloe’s not looking at her. 

Well, not looking at her face, anyway.

Her focus now is between their bodies, specifically between Beca’s legs where her fingers are starting to rub and stroke, cutting the time Beca knows she has to wait to come in half, if not more.

She tries to say Chloe’s name but it gets caught in her throat when Chloe shifts from watching, awestruck, as her fingers touch Beca to dropping her hips to pin her hand between them and against Beca.

She moans in Beca’s ear, not quite making it back to her mouth. Beca knows her supporting arm has to be tired but Chloe not stopping is so hot and sexy. Her own arms finally work and she yanks them out from between their bodies to wrap them around Chloe, to run them up her back and into her hair to hold on.

She has to hold on because Chloe’s hips are bucking into her like she’s really fucking her (and she is really fucking her) and the urgency of her moans and gasping breaths in Beca’s ear make it register that not only is she fucking Beca now, with her hand where it is, she’s fucking herself, rutting against the back of her own hand.

It’s hard and fast now; there’s no teasing or precision touching. It’s contact and friction and neither of them need more than that.

Beca’s first to slip, the nonstop assault on her senses becoming too overwhelming. Chloe moaning in her ear on the verge of ecstasy. Chloe’s hips and Chloe’s fingers grinding and rocking against her. The now phantom memories of Chloe’s tongue twisting around Beca’s and fingertips pinching and rubbing her nipple.

She holds on, not thinking about whether or not her fingernails are scratching Chloe’s shoulders or if she’s pulling too hard on her hair, as her body rocks into an orgasm she’s been waiting to experience for ten years.

She hears Chloe and knows they’re coming together, an uncoordinated yet simultaneous release of energy and stress and tension that somehow increases in intensity as it unfurls between them until there’s what could be a sob in her ear. It’s not, though; it’s just Chloe coming down from her orgasm.

Something Beca never, ever thought she would actually bear witness to.

Chloe’s body is heavy on hers, no longer holding herself up at all but Beca doesn’t care. She just pushes Chloe’s hair out of her face and over Chloe’s shoulder so she can turn her head and put her mouth on Chloe’s heated neck, immediately sucking a mark into it. Everything feels so primal, so raw, even in the increasing afterglow but she’s spent.

She’s so, so spent.

If Chloe’s delay in moving at all, in any way other than her fingers which are still rubbing against Beca, is any indicator, she’s spent, too.

There’s a long, heavy sigh in her ear and Beca releases freshly purpled skin and feels her body fully sag into the couch, Chloe’s pleasant weight keeping her from floating away.

Chloe does start to move after a few minutes of quiet sighs and slow, sometimes chaste, sometimes sensual kisses and when she finally removes her hand its absence leaves Beca feeling cold and needy, despite what just happened.

“Bec—” Chloe starts and something about her faces tells Beca she’s about to apologize or in some way dismiss what just happened.

“That was amazing,” Beca says to interrupt whatever Chloe might have been thinking about saying.

A smile of relief breaks on Chloe’s flushed face and she drops down to kiss Beca again, hard and happy before she’s pulling away with finality. They’re a fair bit entangled and they’re both laughing by the time Chloe tiredly gets back onto her knees to fall back onto her ass at the other end of the couch.

She doesn’t offer Beca a helping hand to sit up, but Beca honestly doesn’t blame her. Chloe just did all the work; it’s the least she can do to push herself up until they’re sitting, both still red-faced and not quite breathing normally, on opposite ends of the couch.

“Just...give me a minute,” Chloe says before her head lolls back to rest on the couch and her eyes close.

Beca gives her the minute and uses it to take in her appearance: the flush of pink on her chest, the hardness of her nipples, the (Beca can’t help but look with curiosity) obvious dark patch between her legs on the gray sweatpants she’s wearing.

The need to touch—and taste—Chloe is suddenly overwhelming. She’s about to make her move when Chloe lifts her head, eyes sparkling and clear and a smile starts spreading across her features. There’s tension in her limbs and Beca wonders if Chloe is still as turned on as she is.

“Tag,” Chloe says, suddenly reaching out to slap her hand against Beca’s foot before bolting off the couch and heading for the stairs. “You’re it!”

Beca’s dumbfounded for several seconds until she bursts out laughing. It’s a different kind of release than she just experienced, one of pure joy. “I’m giving you 60 seconds!”

“I gave you 100!” echoes back to her.

“I can’t wait that long,” she says to herself. She hopes Chloe’s not actually hiding; she hopes she’s going to one of their bedrooms so they can keep doing what they’ve started.

She knows their future is unknown in many ways, what this means for their friendship, for their relationship with one another. She doesn’t know how much longer they’ll be required to spend all day, every day inside together.

But, she thinks as she finally makes it to the top of the stairs and to her room to find Chloe sitting in the middle of her bed half-naked in only a bra and panties, they have plenty of activities to pass the time.

The End

[lonelyghosts-stuff]

Avengers Infinity War-First Time Watching Reaction Play-by-Play (Pt. 2)

Part 1

I wonder how many people Gamora has killed? What made her finally snap to not serve Thanos anymore?

How DID Gamora find it? Like, who told her?

How did Thanos capture nebula?

Poor nebula. She’s literally been through hell and back.

Ohhhh she snuck on board...

Thanos you suck so much. You favor one daughter over another.

Oh. Where was said map to the soul stone?

Gosh I feel so damn bad for nebula. She was raised as his daughter too but he tortured her and tore her apart. Nebula never had the chance to be her equal. She deserves so much.

Taught groot as an elective? What about all speak?

Buckle up rocket. It’s gonna get emotional.

Thor is literally all alone. He needs a time to sit alone and cry and break a whole building.

Rocket and Thor friends? Please

1500 years old? Jane, honey, you escaped.

Gotta give it up to Hemsworth’s acting chops here. Especially talking to nobody in reality. Just a bunch of cgi

Ew ew ew eye socket

Should have washed that yikes

Snuck it out by hiding it up your? Huh? You watch too many movies rocket.

Huge title card. Thank you. I wouldn’t have known where we were despite them saying their location many times.

How is that video game battery not dead?

Perceptive rabbit

I LOVE that they used a dwarf to play a giant character!!! This is brilliant! (And that dwarves are giant for some reason lol.)

Soooo again Thanos killed everyone EXCEPT Eitri despite his “morality” supposedly being balance

Poor hands

Poor nebula

Smart nebula

Maybe should have waited to be fixed fully first

Ah crap. SOMEONE PICK UP THE SPACE PHONE

MANTIS

Love how Stark asks for peters help in steering and not Stephen lmao

Nice parking job

Peter, stop popping pop culture refs

Lmao ITS ABOUT TO BE THE ICONIC SCENE

YES PLEASE

Blanket of Death. Capey has a new nickname.

Where’s Gamora

Who’s Gamora

Why is Gamora

What master do you serve?

Jesus?

I mean, yea I do. So does Pratt lmaoo.

LMAO PARKER’S FACE WHEN QUILL SAID THOR WASNT HANDSOME

Storm breaker time baby

“In theory it could summon the bifrost” who theorized this? How do you only theorize and not know?

Oh my gosh mantis is just bouncing around

Mr. Clean lmao

Kick names, take ass

Hey now, these guys saved the galaxy and universe from Ego so lmao

Oh no I know the scene coming up

Poor quill lmao

“I’m half human. So the 50% of me that’s stupid, that’s 100% of you.” “Your math is, blowing my mind.” What’s funny is that Quill’s math was actually completely accurate lol

Stephen having a stroke or a seizure? You good homie?

Soooo if Strange looked to the future and so possible outcomes, what does that mean for the TVA? According to them, there’s ONE sacred timeline, so all other branches are erased (which again messes up what smart hulk eventually says in end game. See kids, this is why you don’t mess with time travel in stories. There’s no way to go back in time without creating a time loop). Ehhhhh I’ll let it slide. Just ignore it... sigh... I can’t help it if I’ve studied paradoxes

Hmmmm not good odds I’ve gotta say...

Watch like, outside of the millions of realities that strange saw, there were like a million or billion more he missed where they won with no casualties lol

Hey Red Skull. Long time no see. How did he get here anyways and why?

Yea you’re prepared all right...

Gotta say, Lord Elrond has seen better days

I’m not ready to say good bye to this Gamora. Gamora and Loki and Nat go down as my favorite characters, gotta say. I know that Tony does and it’s sad, but his feels more satisfying because his sacrifice directly results in them winning. Loki is murdered. Gamora is murdered. Nat died just for a stepping stone for the avengers. She has no idea whether or not they will actually win in the end.

I’m hopeful they may bring Nat back like in the comics, red room clone style.

We got back vision, Loki (kinda), variant Gamora, a new captain America, why not Nat? Yea we have a prequel, but gosh I love her so much.

“You must lose that which you love.” Couldn’t that apply to like an object or something? Could I not throw my Nintendo switch over the cliff? Or my dog? (I would hate that just as much as a person, don’t get me wrong, I’m just curious about the rules)

Yea boohoo sad for Thanos... loses his favorite daughter. I don’t care about him. He deserves suffering.

Poor Gamora doesn’t think he’s willing to do it.. GIRL RUN!!!

Thanos deserves all the suffering.

He does love you Gamora... but that love... it’s selfish. It’s blind... Thanos seems to be a chaotic vigilante who is narrowminded, tunnel vision on his goal with no regards of the cost. But he is evil. If there is ever an alternate route to an end that doesn’t result in the loss of innocent lives, and you know that but you willingly choose the once that costs innocent lives, that is an evil decision. Maybe Thanos isn’t evil, but he’s not good. Far from it. He’s obsessed with this idyllic Utopia but he rushes to one method of getting there. Yes, people suffer. It sucks... it’s unfair... it’s horrible. But it is never the right of someone else to dictate whether or not said person would be better off dead. Who lives, who dies. If Thanos truly was neutral and not selfish, he would have thrown his own life into the mix of the potential 50/50 snap. Thanos is not good. He’s not misunderstood. He’s a murderer. A genocidal cult leader. I have no tears for him. Only for those who suffered more at his hands.

Rant over, time to try not to cry about Gamora...

Her face of realization

Gamora run please

Thanos, I hate you. (Great character her, but not a good person)

Poor Gamora

Oh my gosh the emotion here is great but I’ve heard this sound used as a meme on TikTok too many times aghhhh

Gamora!

What a way to die

I’m crying again. I miss her already...

Who the hell designed this place and put the stone here???? Who did this?

Cry Thanos. Suffer. My only comfort here is that you are sad. You deserve suffering. You really do...

The TVA is laughing here and I’m not okay..

Poor Peter Quill... he’s also lost a lot like Thor, but has had the “luck” of not knowing his family too close.

Wakanda babyyyy

No, you don’t want Starbucks, you want Dutch bros

Lmao I love rhodey. Poor Bruce.

BUCKY BUCKY BUCKY

HUG

NO CMON HAVE A LONG HUG

MALE FRIENDSHIPS ARE SO IMPORTANT.

Yea Shuri show em up.

Okay quick pause, I love love LOVE how Shuri is smarter. It’s a powerful moment for females BUT it’s not done in a way that’s condescending to males! It’s not saying women power because men bad, she’s just good! (And she has had access to technology they never could have but I digress). More of this please Hollywood. Don’t let being a female be the power. I don’t want strong female characters, I want strong characters who happen to be female. Ones who hold their own, have faults like anyone else, struggle, have weaknesses and strengths, but are strong without putting down others. Just a comment, just because a woman character may not be as strong as a man character, that is not saying she’s weak. If you’re the second strongest human in the world, you are NOT weak. You’re just not as strong as the strongest human ever, but that’s nothing against you. LET WOMEN STAND ON THEIR OWN MERITS WITHOUT SEX AFFECTING THEM!

Anyways

I love Shuri

I wish they had more time. She definitely could have done it. But stupid Thanos

Ughhhghhg

I know what many scenes are upcoming... with quill and peter and vision and everyone else

Let👏🏻Bucky👏🏻Have👏🏻Peace👏🏻

Thank you Nat!!! I love that Nat is so protective and selfless.

GET THIS MAN A SHIELD

Bucky needs love please. He’s my stand in, manipulated, greasy, long haired, dark and mysterious, stabby boy. (Also I need Bucky and Loki to meet. But let Loki finish his show (and come out of it alive because if he doesn’t I will sue) and be the antihero hero we need. Please. If he doesn’t get reintroduced into the mcu as a hero I will sue.

Thor, sweetie, are you a masochist?

Back to wakanda

Oh no, bad CGI, floating head Bruce banner. I’ll let it slide... sigh....

Can’t like, you just rain bombs on them forever?

JIBARI TRIBE YEA BOYYYYY

Sorry Proxima Midnight, you look like a frog and your name sounds like a middle schooler’s OC.

How nice. Diplomatic meeting.

“Thanos will have nothing but dust and blood.” Reeeeeeally wish you didn’t say that, T’Challa...

Yay big CGI battle commence! It’s like a really expensive animated cartoon at this point

WAKANDA FOREVER!

Poor Bucky. Forgot this dude doesn’t know much about the modern world.

Ahhhh Kamikazi aliens

I just wanna say that I love that Wakanda still has the artistic culture in their clothing and tradition all the while having badass, super advanced technology.

Why can’t they just rain bombs down the whole fight lol. Rhodey has those super nice bombs, like, do that they he whole time? Please? Why do you not have a barrier around the entire king.

No M’Baku, it’s not the end of wakanda. But half of all life, yea

WAKANDA FOREVER YEAAAAAAA

They should honesty all have nano tech suits like black panther lol. Or iron man suits. Fine maybe the most powerful one with the best quality material for the king, but besides that, yknow.

Wow Steve is hot with a beard.

So much happening at once. Thor, Wakanda, Vormir, Knowhere, am I missing anything?

Okay, but what IS the full force of a star? Like in Newton’s or something? Juls? Is it heat?

What’s this metal? How does it fare with vibranium?

Get off your wooden butt, groot.

“He needs the axe” are you Thor, the god of axes?

Soooo, I thought Thor didn’t NEED the hammer, it just helped him concentrate his powers or act as a conduit. Is that retconned already?

Cmon groot, put down your game. Soooo, is Groot worthy? He technically lifted it. Or is it a technicality because it wasn’t fully finished yet?

Cmon bucky, use that fancy arm of yours.

Wow they’re getting destroyed.

They need wanda to help.

BADASS ENTRANCE BABYYYY

How did Thor know to come to wakanda?

Floaty head Bruce

“BRING ME THANOS!”

Ahhhhhahahaha yeaaaaaa

Cry Thanos. Do it. I hate you.

Much more of a purple grape nutsack.

Oh gosh... I know what Peter Quill is going to do. I still don’t hate him.

“With all six stone I would simply snap my fingers. They would all cease to exist.” Orrrr, now hear me out, I know I sound like a broken record now but... MAYBE DOUBLE THE RESOURCES INSTEAD?? That’s not mercy. That’s not up to you to decide whether or not someone’s better off dead.

Smoosh

Yea quill has experience with the power stone

AIM FOR THE HEAD

Cmon it’s basic zombie tactics

I love peter quill lmao

Go capey!!!

Magic with a kick!

Poor Peter

CAPEY NOOOOOO

Wow he’s OP

Ouch quill just got majorly clotheslined

NEBULA

“Where’s Gamora?” 😭😭😭 SHE CARES AGHHHH

Restrain him! Work it mantis!!!

Why even remove the gauntlet, just slit his throat... kill him....

Quill no... stop being cocky...

Oh no

Quill please don’t

JUST SLIT THANOS’ THROAT

Quill please....

Poor quill. Just lost the person who really really loved him

Okay, I still love star lord. Idc what others think. He reacted realistically. If you hate peter quill for how he reacted, you better also hate Tony Stark for how he reacted to bucky when he learned bucky killed his parents despite knowing for a fact that bucky was brainwashed. Yes it was annoying... yes they were so close, but quill is so human here. I don’t hate him. He gets too much hate for acting like any normal person would have. Distraught, grief filled, he lost his love. Someone who helped him open up and finally move on from his mother’s death and fathers villainy.

Spider man saving mantis gives me life

How did that power stone blast not kill them?

Clearly Thanos has played Majora’s Mask. At least he has good taste.

So close vision.... but I know... I know what happens.

YES BUCKY AND ROCKET GUN CIRCLE.

Lmao give rocket Bucky’s old arm.

“I am Groot.” “I am Steve Rogers.” Comedy gold

Cmon Thor, go after the big one first.

Cmon wanda, save them. We need some scarlet witch magic up here to stop these

Okay that was so cool. AND THEN SHE USED THE BLADES

Oh no but now Shuri is alone

So close yet so far.... Dangit... vision was almost good

Ouch. Bonk to the head

YEA BLACK WIDOW

BADASS TIME

AND OKOYE!!

LETS GOOOOOOO

BADASS WOMEN

Ouch poor vision

Cmon Thor back up vision

Please

Hulk is in his feels

Cmon hulk grow up

Ooooh smart move banner

Aaaaand he’s gone

Giant blade look oit

Corvus, screw off.

YEA STEVE

WHERE IS THOR WHEN YOU NEED HIM

CMON NAT

Oh dang. Nice one wanda. But also, sheesh. Helluva way to go. But no big.

Yea vision. Stabby time.

Now vision and Steve, kiss.

Spider man saving everyone’s lives.

YEA STRANGE

Where was this in New York???

MULTIPLYING

WHY DIDNT YOU DO THIS IN THE FIRST PLACE????

Oh no

Well then... ouch. Soooo where’s the real stone???

Hey look Tony, you have a fan.

Okay I’m just pissed odd they didn’t just kill Thanos when they had him subdued. Like, worry about the glove AFTER he’s not longer a threat

Oof

Tony is taking a beating

HE WAS STABBED

WHAT

I don’t want your respect Thanos. That’s an insult.

They will remember him. They will remember him Thanos. When he kills you.

DOCTOR STRANGE WHAT?

You really doing this??? I guess he knows what needs to unfold for them to win... dang. I wouldn’t trust him tho.

Peter Quill in berserker mode

Where’d he go?

Name dropping the second movie

Strange knows everything about to go down. Who dies, who lives, what Thanos is about to do... he’s accepting his soon dusted demise because Stark needs to live...

AIM FOR THE HEAD UGHHHHH

Stop teleporting. That’s Loki’s gimmick.

KILL THIS RAISIN LOOKING NUTSACK UGH

Homie way too OP

Poor wanda and Vis...

HER LIP TREMBLE

PHENOMENAL ACTING

SAY I LOVE YOU

I JUST FEEL YOU

AGGHHHH IM CRYING AGAIN

Poor wanda. To have to kill her love... this.. this is a sacrifice Thanos... not your murder....

Wow Steve is holding back Thanos with pure brute

WANDA IS SO STRONG

HOLDING BACK THANOS WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY BREAKING THE MIND STONE

I LOVE YOU

AGHHHHHHHHH

And I know what happens next...

Poor wanda

Piss off thanos you understand nothing

You lost more than she could know? Bull crap. You are causing everyone to lose...

Cruel reality. Wanda has to see him die twice. RIP Vision

RIP half of all life...

AIM FOR THE DAMN HEAD

IF THOR KILLED HIM THEY COULD HAVE USED THE GAUNTLET TO BRING EVERYONE BACK TO LIFE. USED THE TIME STONE TO REVIVE THEM ALL.

How did that not kill Thanos tho. It may not have been a head shot but still.

Lil Gamora

What is this place?

Is this the soul realm?

Thanos, I hope you suffer forever. You deserve all the pain...

Rest In Peace: Vision, Loki, Bucky, T’Challa, Groot, Wanda Maximoff, Sam Wilson, Mantis, Drax, Peter Quill, Dr. Strange, Peter Parker (I don’t feel so good), and everyone else...

Thank you Nebula.

Thanos, you do NOT deserve to retire peacefully—wipe that smile off of your face

Oop, Rest In Peace Maria Hill and Nick Fury too... Motherfu— (so close Sammy boy...)

Yea Thanos you didn’t really think that through. Much more than half will died since other people rely on other peoples lives

Good thing he hit that button last minute huh? I wonder how captain marvel would fare in the TVA? are her powers considered magic? I mean, she clearly doesn’t know everything since she only just learned about Thanos (which is funny because she was supposedly traversing the universe to protect people)

Welp... onto movie two!

[mistymark]

the one with the baby. [1]

nakamoto yuta x reader // 1.3k words // college!au // established relationship!au // requested

summary; in which you’re supposed to be minding Yuta’s cousin and it doesn’t go so well.

warnings: swearing, stress

“Y/n? Call me immediately. It’s urgent. I know you’re there. I swear to God, if you don’t pick up this damn-” The voicemail message is interrupted by ringing, your best friend calling you once again. Rolling your eyes, you march over to the phone in your apartment, and pick up the phone.

“Ten, what the fuck,” you swear, tugging a jumper on one-handed as you walk back to your room to finish getting ready. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh,” you can hear the sweet smile in his voice, “Nothing much. What about you?”

You stop, “You said it was urgent. What’s going-”

“Oh! That,” he laughs melodiously. “Yeah, I just wanted to know what your plans for this weekend were. Do you wanna do something?”

“This is why you harassed my answering machine?” You apply lipstick to your lips poorly, the colour bleeding into your foundation. “I thought you were going to die or something.”

“Nah, just hate waiting for you to call me back. Why have an answering machine if you never call anyone back, anyway?” 

You ignore his question, “Yuta’s in town this weekend. We’re meeting his family in the city and then spending Sunday with his cousin. She’s apparently really sweet.”

“What’s the deal with the cousin?” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice. 

Dabbing at your lips, you try and fix the lipstick you’d just applied moments before, “First of all, she’s, like, four. You’re disgusting. Second of all, I have work, like, ten minutes ago, so I need to go. Text me later, okay?”

“So, meeting the family, huh?” Ten bumps his shoulder against your own, falling into step with you as you walk to your last class of the week; the two hour lecture your last obstacle to finally seeing your boyfriend again. It was a warm sunny day, promising for the weekend ahead. You were planning a picnic for Yuta’s cousin at the park. “That’s a big step.”

You roll your eyes, “I’ve met them before. So have you. Remember? When Yuta’s sister got engaged?”

He thinks for a moment, before shrugging, “Nope. But, still, it’s a big deal.”

Grinning, you nod your head, “Now, please shut up so Mr Kim doesn’t go overtime today. Yuta’s meeting me after class.”

“No fun question time?” He pouts at you, gripping the strap of his laptop bag as he follows you inside, finding a seat near the back of the room. This lecture was never filled, only 30 people were supposed to attend, and only half ever showed up. It made for a really interactive learning experience, but Ten liked to misuse this advantage for a laugh. And he got laughs, but today you didn’t want to learn. You wanted to get in, get out, meet your boyfriend and spend the weekend with him.

“Every minute in this room is ‘fun question time’ for you,” you scoff, pulling out your laptop. “Please?”

He sighs dramatically, “Fine.”

The lecture goes by quickly and, as Ten promises, he doesn’t ask any questions he already knows the answer to, just to prolong the lecture. Instead, he sits almost silently beside you, typing notes. He asks questions he genuinely has, but you can tell the fact that he’s fairly silent is confusing the professor, who keeps pausing every time Ten makes any movement to stretch, remove his hoodie or lean over to grab something from his bag.

Though you’re normally against it, you can’t help checking your phone repeatedly throughout the session, texting Yuta and checking for his replies excitedly.

“Calm down, stalker,” Ten mumbles when you check your phone for the umpteenth time. 

“I’m just excited,” you’re practically bouncing in your seat as the clock tells you you only have fifteen minutes left.

“You could just leave know, you know,” Ten replies, leaning on the armrest that separates you two, his chin in his hand.

“And miss this lecture? No.”

“You’re not even paying attention,” he tries to contain his laughter.

“Neither are you,” you elbow his arm, forcing his arm to fall ungracefully into his lap. “Focus.”

As soon as the lecture ends, you grab your phone, texting your boyfriend to meet you in two minutes. He sends a smiley face back, and you grin down at your phone. Dork.

When you see him standing against a pillar outside the building, you practically run to him, throwing your arms around him, “Hi.”

“Hey,” he laughs, kissing the top of your head briefly, sliding your bag from your shoulder to carry it for you. “How was the lecture?”

“Like she knows,” Ten rolls his eyes. “She was texting you the whole time.”

“False. I took some good notes,” you laugh, lightly punching his arm.

“Oh, sure,” Ten pokes his tongue out at you in retaliation. “Well, I better get going. Enjoy your weekend, Y/n. Nice to see you again, dude.” 

“You, too,” Yuta juts his chin upwards, the left side of his mouth raising in a polite smile. His arm is now rested around your shoulders, and he laughs when Ten flips you off for punching him, rubbing his shoulder as he walks away. Yuta lowers his head to rest right beside your ear, “Ready?”

Laughing you swat his face away, “Yes, I’m ready. But it’s just us tonight, right?”

He laughs, using the arm around your shoulders to pull you closer so he can kiss the top of your ear, “Yeah, just us tonight. I needed to have you to myself at least once this weekend.”

Friday night and Saturday blur together in a flurry of smiles, sunshine, family meals and stupid games you find yourself enjoying. It’s Saturday night that you get your first piece of bad news; Yuta needs to go to work on Sunday. ‘For at least three hours’ to complete a massive project before a presentation on Monday.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, “Chae is gorgeous, I can handle her. Just go, I’ll be fine, I promise. I already have the day planned.”

“Are you sure?” Yuta holds your hands in his as he stands at the train station; the commute isn’t short, and it’s long enough for him to warrant living across the city to be closer to his job. “You can call my sister if you need.”

“I’ll be fine,” you repeat the phrase you’ve been saying all morning. “I’ll pick her up in an hour just like we planned. We’ll go to the zoo and the park and then I’ll drop her off in the afternoon.”

You had been looking forward to this day, yes, but you knew Yuta would be with you if he could. Instead, you had his little cousin, and you were just as excited to spend time with her. You’d been to a few family gatherings and events when you’d first started dated Yuta, but Chae had been the first of the Nakamoto family to love and accept you wholeheartedly. You owed it to her to show her a good time even if her favourite cousin - your boyfriend - couldn't be with you.

As if right on time, the train slowly pulls to a stop beside you, and Yuta gives you a swift kiss on the cheek, getting on the train and sitting in a seat by the window nearest to you, pulling funny and ugly faces at you until the doors close, and he points at his phone.

[07:23] From Utah: are you sure you’re going to be okay? [07:23] From Utah: I feel awful abandoning you

You smile, the train pulling away. You look up to find him already searching your face, nod and blow him a kiss. He scrunches up his face in mock disgust, looking down at his phone.

[07:24] From Utah: I love you

You manage to look up again just as he disappears from sight, and you grin, typing back.

[07:24] From You: I love you too [07:24] From You: dumbass

[lordseochangbin]

Heart Stop: Hoodie Season (2)

A/N: Yooo the feedback from Chapter One made me so happy thank you guys for reading <3

Word Count: 2.3k of pure fluff with Bang Chan

Chan was met with a smack in the head as he watched you walk down the hall. “Bro! What the heck was that?” Jisung asked.

Chan stuttered with his words but Jisung and Minho found his actions to be pure comedy. “‘Cause I’m a nice guy, my ass” Minho mocked.

Turning around in a hurry, Chan placed his hands on Jisung’s shoulders. “Do you know that girl’s name?”

»»————-　♡　————-««

That was probably the first time you had ever been so close to a cute boy without fainting. Even when you met Seungmin, Jeongin, or Hyunjin your heart felt like you were about to explode. But for the most popular senior at your school? Not even a beat. 

You were even preparing for the repercussions, but nothing out of the ordinary happened. 

“And then he just suddenly bumped into me! What a jerk, right?!” You exclaimed, taking a handful of chips from Hyunjin’s lunch and chomping it down. 

“Jeez chill Y/N, take your time when you eat” Hyunjin responded, staring off at the track field in front of him. 

You wave your hand in front of his face to get his attention before your lips could form a pout, “Bang Chan, the ‘hottest guy at our school’ bumps into me and you don’t even care? What if I become his girlfriend, huh? A-and I ditch you for him? Then what, huh?” 

When you saw Hyunjin’s eyes widen you knew you had gotten his attention. It was unnecessary but you loved seeing his reaction anytime he got angry or jealous- it was priceless. This time however, he looked like neither of them. He looked shocked almost, as if..

“You think I’m hot?” 

Dropping the chips in your hand, you turn around to see Bang Chan behind you and choke on your spit. 

“Uhh, ummm” Standing up, you look at Hyunjin for help and when he doesn’t budge you immediately respond “I mean that’s what everyone says”

That’s what everyone says? You don’t even know what you’re saying at this point. 

“Right..” Chan says in a voice close to a whisper. You can hear the disappointment in his voice and in fact, you were disappointed too. Rather than focusing on the situation you just put yourself in, you found yourself focused on the number of breaths you were taking. Completely zoned out, unaware yet aware. Full of speech yet speechless. You looked for a reason and asked yourself how many breaths you were taking- just like your cardiologist suggested and found an answer.

An almost break-taking answer, none. 

“Dude, just ask her out stop being such a pussy,” Jisung said, pointing at you. “She’s right there”

The boy’s weight shifted on his feet, as if he was getting smaller and smaller and his swim bag dropped to the floor. He felt it the second he walked towards you. His chest rose and fell unsteadily and at this point he couldn’t keep track.

“Y-Y/N..” He stutters, his hand itching the crook of his neck as his bottom lip trembles. 

Minho rolled his eyes, “Oh great, we came all the way here and he’s stuttering” he mumbled before being elbowed in the stomach by Jisung. 

“Huh?” You responded, Hyunjin quickly got on his feet to back you up. 

“She doesn’t need a date” 

Jisung chuckled as he pulled Hyunjin aside, “Look Chan is stuttering. And with his cocky ass, that’s a first '' Jisung grabs Hyunjin’s shirt to drag him away and finds himself at loss before Minho could carry him over his shoulder. 

“Let’s go, little guy” Minho says and Hyunjin looks back at you. “SAVE ME Y/N SAVE MEEEEE” 

You simply laughed at the sight. Drama llama. 

The whole scene took your mind off of the nervous boy in front of you. Shoulders hunched and out of breath, he took his hand out as if to ask ‘Can you hold it?’ 

“Chan, if you want to go on a date-”

“Yes!” He panted out before shaking his head in disappointment and whispering, “Please”

He covered his eyes as if he didn’t want to see you, his heartbeat slowly recovering as he finally got to courage to ask “Will you go out on a date with me?” 

“Do you even know who you’re talking to?” You asked, your hands flattening on top of his to remove them from his face. 

“Eeek!” He shrieked, making an attempt to cover his face again before you could stop him. 

“Are you okay?!” You asked in concern, letting go of your grasp on him

“Will you go on a date with me?” He asked quickly. You could feel his heartbeat pace faster and faster through his chest. The heaves of breaths pass his lips to hit yours and you find yourself in the unknown on how to respond.

“Yes?” 

“Great” He responded with a smile, pointing a finger at you before dashing off. 

“Chan!! Chan!!!” 

You crouch down to pick up the large swim bag. “You forgot your stuff”

»»————-　♡　————-««

A couple days later, you find yourself applying your sister’s makeup as you get ready for your date with Chan. Sure, you’re nervous. You’re about to go out with the hottest Senior at your school and you can’t help but to wonder if he’ll be as cocky as the guy that you heard about all the time. 

“Oh, Bang Chan he’s a player”

“He’s a total flirt”

“Have you seen his abs? He’s totally working out for the girls”

Does he work out for the girls? Is he just a player? You couldn’t help but to ask yourself if you were being played. 

When the front door bell rang you had no time to come to an answer. “Coming!” You said, doing some finishing touches and running to the door. 

You took a deep breath. It’s just a first date right? But it was not only you and Chan’s first date, it was your first date. It was like a new entry in social life.

Opening the door was like a brand new face of light. Despite it being the afternoon, Chan smiled brighter than the sun. A hand met the door rail and he leaned in closer to you. “Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah! Let me just grab my bag.”

When you two got into the car, he opened the door for you and you smiled at him as if to say ‘Thank you’

“Where are we going?” You ask excitingly as he drives off. 

Taking your hand in his, he winks at you after saying “You’ll see”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“No way,” Chan said, crossing his arms as he stared at the large amusement ride in front of you. 

“Oh come on!! It’s just a ride” You said, nudging your shoulder on his side. You have never been to a carnival ride before. Typically you’d go with your family and you’d beg to go on the rides but they would never let you because of your health.

But what did you think of that? Bullshit. Finally you’re with a guy who is completely unaware about you, someone who treats you like a normal person without overdoing it. 

“Channie~” You smirked, standing tall in front of him as you pointed at the ride. “Don’t be a baby, just go on the ride” 

Chan’s eyes narrowed down on you as he took your hand, legs practically stomping on the ground as he walked to the line. “I am not a baby!” He pouted. 

That was before the constant screaming and grabbing of your jacket. Chan didn’t let go of you the entire ride. With every dip and turn he’d throw his entire weight on you causing you to get stuck in the corner of the seat. “Chan, get off me!” You exclaimed as he clinged onto you. 

“No.. no Y/N I think I’m seriously gonna- AHHHH” He exclaimed as the roller coaster went down its biggest dip. 

Once the ride was finished Chan got off from his seat, dusting his knees. “Hey, we should go on that again”

You could only laugh at his response, “We should, it seemed like you really enjoyed it” you replied sarcastically.

And at that point it came to some awkward silence, where you didn’t know what to say and neither did he. Words weren’t necessary at this point because when Chan took your hand in his again you were left breathless. “Let’s get something to eat,” He said before taking you to the food court. 

There you two debated over hot dogs or burgers. The two of you basically robbed the food stand as you ordered everything on the menu and settled down at one of the tables.

“C-chan you have a little something” You said, gesturing at the bit of ketchup from his hotdog that smeared his bottom lip. 

“Oh do I?” His australian accent peaked as he made multiple tries to get the sauce off but failed. 

“Here, let me get it” You said, leaning across the table to wipe the ketchup off his lip with the napkin. 

If you got any closer, Chan swore his heart would’ve jumped out of his chest. It was already on a loop. Faster than the pace of a jump-rope, hopping and popping and “jopping”, but when you pulled back it suddenly died down. 

“Thanks” he nervously smiled before taking another bite at his snack. 

“Yeah for sure” You smiled back, looking around in awe as the sun went down and the carnival lights started to turn on. 

He couldn’t even focus on his meal. He was so in love with the view. Not the lights that were brought to life, nor the sky that turned shades of pink and purples. The girl in front of him. She was beautiful.

“Chan! Let’s go play that game!” You said, jumping out of your seat and dragging him out of the food area. 

You and another girl held your straws in your hand before you could competitively eye each other. “GO!” The lady said. 

Before you knew it you were huffing and puffing into your straw, blowing to watch your rubber ducky go down the river. Chan occasionally threw words of encouragement as you went down the game, and once you were close to the end he sang “Rubber ducky you’re the one-”

“And she wins!” The lady interrupted as your rubber ducky passed the finish line. 

“I did it!” You smiled at Chan as the lady handed you a koala plushie. Once you were off, Chan intertwined his fingers with yours before walking you to his car. 

“Did you have fun?” He asked, watching as you looked back at the Carnival lights. 

“Yes..thank you so much Chan” you replied with a giggle before he could open the door for you. 

“Good, because there’s one last place I want to take you.”

When Chan said those words, you thought he would take you to dinner- or maybe the park or the movies. Never did you expect for him to take you to your school’s swimming pool. 

“Chan, what are we doing here?” You ask as he unlocks the door to the gym. 

“I wanted to take you here. I don’t know.. I always told myself that if I took a girl out on a date I would bring her here. It’s like my second home you know?”

“Yeah, I get it” You followed him to the pool as he sat down on the edge, taking off his shoes and dipping his feet inside. Doing the same, you sat down next to him as you watched the shallow waters. 

This time around, it didn’t feel awkward. Not knowing what to say or what to do. Just having him next to you made you feel as good as you have ever felt. 

“Hey,” Chan said, watching as you stared down at the pool anxiously. 

The second you turned your head, Chan splashed water to your face- instant betrayal. 

“Hey!” You pouted with a laugh as your hand went to swap more water at him. It went on like this for a few seconds until Chan kicked so much water at you that you were practically drenched. 

“Chan, Chan stop” you pleaded, your hands flying in front of your face to avoid more water coming at you. The second he stopped, you pushed him down the pool, watching him fall into the very bottom and laughing at the dancing movements he made. 

Then it became a sudden worry. He went so deep into the water you couldn’t even spot him. “Chan?? Chan..CHAN!” You yelped as he pulled you down into the water with him.

Your head didn’t touch the water but you were screaming for help- hands flying everywhere and legs kicking with no use. Your hands grabbed at Chan’s shoulders as he giggled at your response before you could scream “I DON’T KNOW HOW TO SWIM!!” 

“YOU DON’T?!!” Chan exclaimed before he could get a grasp on your waist, holding you tight against his chest as you buried your head into the crook of his neck. 

His arm found itself at the edge of the pool so he could float comfortably and he reassured you that you were safe. Chan had been through this before. So many skits of paying the lifeguard or kid savior, but this time it felt different. He felt excited, thrilled even to be in a pool that he had spent most of his life in. 

You on the other hand felt calm. Tranquil and peaceful in contrast to the beating heart that was banging against your chest. 

“Are you okay now?” Chan asked, his hand going to brush your wet hair away from your face. 

“Yeah, I’m perfect” You said before leaning closer to him. Feeling his plump lips part against yours, Chan pressed you closer to him and at last your lips meet. 

Perfect you said, perfect was the word to use when you were with Bang Chan. Amazing. Spectacular. Absolutely astonishing. Any other adjective that could relate to the last three. 

His heart is beating out of his chest and yours is as calm as it has ever been.

Is this what it feels like to fall in love?

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

I’m gonna love you like I’ve never been hurt before.

summary: Could I request one where Richie plans an elaborate proposal for Eddie at their house with everyone invited and when he does, Eddie gets overwhelmed by the attention on him and runs upstairs to their bathroom with Richie apologizing before Eddie accepts the proposal?

A/N: I’m so sorry that this took so long I hope it’s worth it! I’m on a camping trip right now so to the two other request I have in my inbox I hope you don’t mind waiting a week, I’ll try work on it in the meanwhile! Let me know what you think. 

tag-list:  @richietoaster​​ , @s-s-georgie​​ , @mikeuris​​ , @gazebobullshit​​ , @that-weird-girls-blog​​ , @tozierking​​ , @s-onora​​ , @bellarosewrites​​ , ​ @ambitiousskychild​​ , @ghostnebula​​​​ , @cupcakeefrosting

‘Fuck, I’m so fucking stupid.’ Eddie complained to his own mirror image, pacing around the small bathroom he had chosen to hide in. He splashed water in his face, hoping to bring down the heating of his inflamed cheeks. The party downstairs had gotten suspiciously quiet after his performance, but he couldn’t fault them for that. 

Hopefully they all retreated back to their homes and leave Eddie and Richie to deal with the shambles of their relationship, if there even was one after this. Eddie wouldn’t be surprised if Richie decided to break things of with him. He could also start living in the bathroom, condemning himself to the life of a hermit so he never had to face the consequences of what he had done.

How does one relationship recuperate from something like this in the first place? Do any couples stay together after one of them rejects a marriage proposal? In all technicality Eddie didn’t reject Richie, but he did run off before giving any sort of response, and that’s as good an answer as any. If Eddie would have brought his phone with him, he would’ve looked up the statics of them surviving this ordeal on the internet, but his phone was abended on the kitchen counter. Fuck, Eddie didn’t want this to ruin everything he and Richie had worked so hard on to build, the one time he was happy and content and he had to go and fuck it up.

This is what he had dreamed of doing to Myra, not so the walking out clueless part, but the saying no. Eddie cursed himself at the alter for letting it get that far, but hadn’t had the galls to say anything about it in front of his mother and Myra’s family. So then why did he do this time?

‘Eddie are you in here?’ Richie asked from the other side of the door, voice uncharacteristically soft and sad, and Eddie mentally prepared for the; ‘it’s not you it’s me’, speech, except this one would go something like this; ‘it is, your fault, I asked you to marry me and you took off and that was an ego breaking and reputation imploding experience, so why don’t we do each other a favor and break it off now.’ The fact that he didn’t bother with Eds anymore installed a deep feeling of longing to hear the words from his boyfriends mouth.

‘Yeah Rich’, Eddie quietly admitted, digging the buts of his palms in his eyes to will the tears away.

‘Can I come in?’

‘Yeah.’

The bathroom tiles needed revamping, they were flaked with spots from Richie colored hair wash he dyed his hair with for a movie, but Eddie never inspected the place to ensure everything was spotless. He should have, because Richie lacks severely in the cleaning deportment. He compensates by being extra talented in cooking and taking Eddie’s mind of things, his workload or the manifestations of the abuse his mother made him endure. Eddie, is a perfectionist, and once he decided to rid himself from any and all influences of his mother, he loathed the little things he would subsequently enucleate, slipping in the way he surveyed Richie doing laundry for example, or the way he demanded a full list of ingredients from the waiter in full detail.

Richie knows precisely how to approach those moods and adjust him back on the right path, reminding him that it’s okay to sometimes mess up, recovery isn’t linear. Eddie didn’t know how to begin his life without Richie anymore.

“Eddie I’m so, so sorry, can you please forgive me?’

Eddie faltered, the words not exactly what he had lurked over and over again his head. ‘I – I’m… what?’

‘I don’t know what I was thinking, I assumed that because we’ve been dating for two years you wouldn’t object… but it was fucking wrong and I’m so extremely sorry. But hey, at least we now know the bachelor isn’t a roll for me huh?’ Richie tried, a smile so faint gracing his features. He was distraught and trying to make up for something that in no way was his fault, a pit in Eddie’s stomach settled and grew.

‘Rich, that’s not on you. It’s on me. I should never have walked away, I just – fuck I can’t think of what to say.’

He dropped to the side of bathtub, laying his head in his hands as he hunched over. Richie hesitated and then shuffled forward a step, slowly as if he was giving Eddie the chance to reject him and to tell him to go away. With a huff, Eddie circled his wrist and tugged him onwards, sliding over to make room at the edge of the bath. Richie took the invitation for what it was, and graced down next to him.

Eddie opened his mouth to say something, but his mind was empty, backtracking on the whole day and wishing he had a way of changing the past so he could say yes.

‘This is just like that one time in college where I spend the night at someone’s dorm, and his roommate took someone home too and the two of us hid in the bathroom the next morning waiting for them to leave so we could sneak out without being spotted.’

‘Really asshole? You’re talking about a previous fucking hookup after you proposed to me?’

That was the wrong thing to say, Richie dispirited away, head tucked in his shoulders, and legs crossing from the previous position they upheld being splayed out. He shrunk from 6.3 to the size of a middle school child getting scolded by the teacher, and Eddie shrunk right by him.

‘Richie I’m sorry.’

‘What do you have to be sorry Eds -Eddie. You have every right to say no.’

It’s not- I didn’t- I don’t say no,’ Richie raised his eyebrows in disbelief. ‘I’m serious, it was too much is all.’

The proportion of people present, the overuse of balloons in every open space in their house, heart shaped and gigantic, and Eddie kept impinging the damn one in the doorway to the kitchen. The only thing that stopped him from taking a knife and popping it was Richie’s manager, stationed by the it, a murderous look at everyone who tried to make small talk with him. The ring that must have costed thousands of dollars. Yes, Richie may be rich, but that didn’t mean Eddie only wanted extravagant and mind-blowing things, he was not that type of gall as Richie himself would word.

A twinge of panic martyrs Eddie, one of him being in the spotlight with Richie, fans yelling out their names and chasing them to take autographs, or paparazzi hiding in bushes to shoot the glamor shot and earn a quick buck of their backs. Too much attention, like today. Of his mother influencing him to ask Myra on a date and devoting her time and effort into tweaking adjust on Myra to make her a perfect bride for him, and Eddie finally stills whirlwind in his mind, deluding all the panic to a single point.

‘I hated the attention.’ Richie turns to face him. ‘I hate how people stare at me and judge me I can’t stand that from anyone besides our friends. All these people that were here tonight were so much more than just our friends, and I couldn’t stand that. I know it doesn’t make any sense and you’d never do that but I can’t stand the fact I’m basically fucking coerced into saying yes.’

The proposal could be boiled down to be a parody of the proposal Myra waylaid him. Her proposal, she was the one who bend down on one knees after a solid piece of advice from his mother, under scrutiny of all their gibberish speaking coworkers.

She showed up in a dress that Eddie claimed to absolutely have a penchant for, he really only said to like the dress because his mother told him he should, and broke down in weepy tears as she read off a love letter from some book she was reading at the time that didn’t apply to their relationship in the slightest bit. Eddie said yes, steered into it by the forceful stares and the face of his mother scolding him if he came home and told her he said no to Myra’s requested, and grew to hate the marriage because of it. But their relationship shouldn’t be a casualty because of a bad previous experience.

It’s not the same with Richie, but at some level it is. The whole setting was so unlike him he’s stunned Richie chose to do it in such a manor.

‘Shit Eds, that’s not at all what I was trying to do.’

Eddie cupped Richie’s cheek in his hands, stroking the skin underneath his eye, the same patch that always twitches right before Richie tipped over the edge in sleep, and smiles genuinely.

‘I know that Rich. Of fucking course I do, It just brought back bad memories is all. The balloons and the song were a bit much don’t you agree? Plus where the fuck did you find a ring so expensive this late in the game? I’ve been with you every second the last two weeks how did you find time to buy it?’

‘I wanted this to be special and exciting to you, a big romantic gesture to show to the whole world how much I love you, but I guess I failed. Just like I failed to go to the store and buy groceries, did I tell you that yet?’ Richie grimaced, the muscles in his lower face stretching back and a hissing at the same time. His face pulled in an ugly expression. The too bad was left unsaid.

‘Fuck you dude it was your turn to buy them, I texted you five times.’

‘Yeah, but I was busy planning everything, and I expected us to go out to dinner after in celebrations sooo,’ Richie drawled the oo out, ‘tough luck butternut.’

‘Okay and breakfast? Breakfast requires groceries too. I’m going to be hogging the toast we have left, finders keepers losers weepers.’ Eddie divines in the small semblance of normal between them, the push and pull they both live for.

‘Marry me’, Richie asks out of the blue, sliding of the bath and sinking on his knees in front of Eddie. The ring is tucked inside his back pocket, and he trails it out.

‘Are you serious? You still want to marry me after all that?’

‘Eds, I’ve wanted to marry you since I knew what the term marriage entailed, and I’ll want to marry you fifty years from now.’ Richie flushed, biting his lip to not let anything else stupid spill. ‘But don’t feel pressured, If you don’t choose to marry me now, or ever for that matter, that’s okay too. I just hope we can spend the rest of our lives together, as husbands or lovers.’

Richie scratched the top of his hair with the one hand he wasn’t using to hold the up the ring. ‘This the minimalistic proposal you’ve been dreaming off? Just the two of us, a semi normal evening, let erase everything that happened before this point today please, no expensive shit? Well, I guess the ring was expensive, but, it’s not about the money, it’s about the sentiment. It’s my dad’s wedding ring.’

‘Wait, are you for real?’

‘I’m trying to figure out what answer is more likely to get me laid tonight but you’re thinking face is making it hard to tell.’

‘Richie, that was the most coherent and sincere thing you’ve ever said to me, please keep going.’

‘Okay yes, it is. Back in Derry, after you and your mom took off with the sunset, I was missing you and my dad understood somehow. I didn’t explicitly say it, too busy making love jokes about your mom,  but he deducted it. That day my aunt came to harass my mom into modifying her wedding dress, and she conducted a whole storyline about how her fiancé asked her hand in marriage with his mother’s wedding band and that my mother should take an example of that, and I blared off at her. Later, my dad came into my room and promised me that if I ever found you again, he would relinquish his instead of my mothers.’ Richie tapped away on the side of the object, Eddie recognizes the beat of the number they had their first ever dance too, wondering how long Richie contemplated popping the question before doing so.  

‘Richie fuck, I love you so much. I need to profusely show my appreciation to your dad.’

‘Don’t talk about my dad when I’m on one knee Eds, a man’s, I’m the man in question, ego will be hurt. The question still needs answering by the way…’

‘If I say yes will you stop calling me Eds?’

‘… no, never.’

‘Well then yes.’

Eddie flew off the handle, crashing into Richie in a wild flurry of limbs and emotions, their lips dancing in a slow inducting dance, pirouetting him all the way to the bottom of his existent and then twirling him back up to become fully aware of his every part. Richie lead, decelerate and facilitating as he pleased. Eddie hunkered for this exhilaration, the burst of spine tingling pops either riling him up or drowsy with heavy eyes, depending on what he desired.  

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

Another peck and the two unstuck from the other, Eddie’s hand trailing the muscle of Richie arm to lead it to his hand. Richie beamed, tears glistening in the sunlight, as Richie slid on the ring with a steady hand.

‘I love you’, he whispered like it was supposed to be a secret, and Eddie parroted the sentiment twice as vigor.

‘So, just to make sure, this is not the story we’re telling our future kids when they ask how we got married right?’

‘Absolutely not, If they ever ask, you proposed in an intimate setting and I accepted on the first try.’

‘I abide to that.’

[theladyfromplanetx]

Dear Lawrence Kasdan So, You Say You Love Han Solo

Dear Lawrence,

I hear there’s a bit of a kerfuffle going on about the Han Solo movie you’re EPing and have co-written with your son. I wish I could tell you I was sorry to hear that, but in all honesty I’ve been hoping for the last few years that someone would kill this project with fire and then nuke it from space for good measure. Sure, most of the reason that large chunks of the nerd world have responded to the very idea of this film is that a lots of people, including me, think it’s a fool’s errand for any actor other than Harrison Ford to strap on Han Solo’s DL-44 blaster. But ever since the release of The Force Awakens, I’ve had a second reason for saying:

to this venture.

I kind of hate to say it, Lawrence, but it’s not me: It’s you.

You see, the The Force Awakens did something to me that even The Star Wars Holiday Special, painfully delivered prequel lines about sand, and the very existence of Jar Jar Binks couldn’t do: The Force Awakens made me regret that Star Wars is still a thing.

It made me regret that children were being introduced to something that used to be innocent and good-hearted by a film that shows that the end game of youthful heroism is failure and running away (and that Han should have stuck to his initial demand of $10,000 all in advance in A New Hope).

It made me angry that nobody among the-powers-that-be looked at it, took a deep breath and said “wait a minute. In shadow-rebooting A New Hope, do we really need to make two of the biggest characters in film history pathetic runaway losers and the other a heartless automaton who would kill her son on (not a)Death Star unless hapless sucker Han showed up to do her bidding and die trying to bring him home…even though that request made not a lick of sense given that the Force-sensitive parent who could actually have had an influence was the bidding mother would have just blown Kylo clear out of the sky had Han not shown up to (1) solve her problem by getting yet another (not a)Death Star shield down and (2) die?“

It made me rue how far we’ve fallen as a critical thinkers when we can be hoodwinked so easily that we spend a couple of billion at the movie theatre on a film that’s dressed up to look and feel like Star Wars, but is utterly life- and hope-denying at its core and presents a kind of nihilism that we’d probably reject as an audience if the words STAR WARS weren’t plastered on it.

Oh, also, the story doesn’t really make any sense.

As you can see, eighteen months later, I can still get a bit aggrieved by all this. However, to quote one of the most egregiously jaw-dropping placeholder lines in The Force Awakens, that is “a story for another day.” (Sorry, Lawrence and JJ, but in a past life, which I call the late 1990s, I went to film school and put in my time in the screenwriting trenches as well. You know and I know that line right there would have gotten you laughed out of an on-line screenwriting class at an unaccredited diploma mill.)

The story for today is that I’m not really keen on the idea of you touching the character of Han Solo again, both because of TFA and because of whatever happened to upend the Solo standalone’s directors. The weight of the evidence coming from the usual suspects (aka unnamed sources) is that the disagreements over the tone of the film and the character of Solo became so vast that somebody had to go. Lord/Miller, as I’ve read in the millions of lines of digital type about this and to which I’m now adding, saw the film and the character as funny, while you insisted that Solo was not funny, but was selfish and sarcastic. Other descriptors of Solo that have been thrown around and attributed to you re: Solo are “narcissistic,” “uncaring,” “out for himself,” and “mean.”

Oh, and you’ve also been quoted as saying you “love Han Solo.”

And therein lies the problem.

Now no one wants a Han Solo movie…hm. I could just stop there for a lot of the fandom, but I’ll proceed.

No one wants a Han Solo movie in which Solo keeps trying to get Chewie to pull his finger, but I’d like to propose, Larry, that perhaps Lord/Miller weren’t the only problem here, because it seems that you actually don’t love the same character that the audience loved in the Original Trilogy. You love the darker version of the character that was tossed around in story conferences and in early drafts and you love the darker story that Lucas toyed with, but decided against using (thank the Makers) in Return of the Jedi. You love the Han Solo that Lucas and Leigh Brackett introduced as the “before” Han at the beginning of A New Hope, but not the “after” he became by the end of that film and the “after-after” he became by the end of ROTJ. Now that Lucas and his lighter view of the Star Wars universe are no longer on the scene, it feels like you’re trying to retcon Han Solo to win a battle you fought and lost long ago and in the process create a smuggler whose heart isn’t actually made of gold anymore.

I know that’s not a very nice thing for me to say, but I can’t help but say it, given how you and JJ had your way with the character in TFA, because he certainly wasn’t the character we left at the end of ROTJ. Nor, I should note, is he the character that we met in Bloodline, the Disney/Lucasfilm novel released after TFA and set five years before it, in which Han and Leia are still happily married and Han is pretty much an identifiable older version of ROTJ Han. TFA Han was an awkward mash-up of a script portraying an aged version of the character we met at the beginning of A New Hope and an actor playing hard against the script to show us a broken man wandering the galaxy and trying to make it work.

That impetus — to remake a beloved hero in a less heroic image — is kind of ugly in any context, despite all the folks who will insist “BUT IT’S REAL” as if real had anything to do with a franchise that for forty years has appealed to the little, innocent part of us that still wants to believe in Santa. It’s particularly a problem when applied to the character of Solo and the role that character plays for Star Wars.

Solo’s not the kid who, twenty minutes into the Original Trilogy, decides he wants to be a Jedi and spends the next five hours and forty minutes of film becoming just that. He’s not the character with royal roots who has been fighting for the good guys since before the first film started and continues to do so until the trilogies end.

He’s the character who has to find his better angels, who has to change in order to become the hero/man/boyfriend/partner/friend he decides he wants to be. He’s a guy who has to overcome his natural instincts for self-preservation. He needs to learn to say “I’m sorry.” He’s snarky, FUNNY, and sometimes grudgingly follows the conscience he’d rather not have in order to do the right thing. He’s not always really convinced about the whole “religion” thing, he’s had some rough times, he’s done some rotten things, and he likes money.

It’s no big mystery why Solo is a fan favorite. It’s Harrison Ford, yes, but its also because Solo is as much like all of us as someone can be in a universe with hyperdrives, lightsabers, and Wookiees. He gives the Star Wars universe some identifiable grounding — and HUMOR. (If you don’t believe me, see: prequels.)

And by the end of Return of the Jedi, Solo became the person we’d all like to believe we are or can be— the one whose better angels have won out and given him a real shot at a happily ever after.

Oh, right, that didn’t happen. Well, it did for 30 plus years, and then it didn’t. Thanks, Larry. Always good to remind myself of Han Solo’s utterly pointless death scene in TFA, a death that many of us steeled ourselves against because we were pretty sure it was coming. It was gutting, though, not because it happened, but because it came at the top of act three of a film that had already stripped the character of his OT arc and also because the death was utterly devoid of heroic meaning or salvific result, given that all it did in the context of the film was turn Darth Emo into Darth Lyle Menendez and make Leia sit down and look somewhat upset.

But it can’t just be a pointlessly sad death of a character who, for all the talking up JJ did about cool rogue Han Solo, wasn’t played that way and didn’t come off that way, right? We all know that when you take down an iconic character like that, you do it with the endgame all planned out. You know exactly how that death — of a parent who rouses himself from his brokenness and ennui to risk his life for son he believes is likely already beyond his reach because the woman he loves has asked him to — will reverberate across the sequel trilogy and, ultimately, we’ll see that Solo’s final act WAS heroic. In fact, it was Kenobi-like. Aslan-like. Christ-like. You gave Solo the ultimate 180-degree arc, didn’t you? He died to save his kid, he died so everybody else could live, and you know it, right, Larry? You’ve got this whole thing mapped out, right, bud? I mean, c’mon, you love Han Solo, so you wouldn’t strip the character of his growth, throw him down an endless shaft (holy cow, dude, you literally shafted him!), and walk away to write another movie about him NOT being a hero, would you?

Oh.

Maybe you did.

So…you’re telling me that it’s possible Han’s final act was utterly futile, solely a device to tell us Darth Emo is really, really evil ? I think we already knew that, given the platypus mask, Vader lust, and the blowing up of a solar system. But, hey, thanks for getting people in our already messed-up world to argue that patricide can be justified; what’s been missing from our pop culture crap stew for the last decade is Star Wars fans arguing that the vastly immoral may be moral because they identify with the patricidal emo character whom they want to end up with the Mary Sue whose mind he attacked in the TFA version of a rape scene. I’ll never know how you avoided feminist outrage there, but count your lucky stars that feminists were so happy to have a female (not)Luke Skywalker in Star Wars that they overlooked that.

So now you move onto the Han Solo film, wherein, after meeting loser, regressed, lost, runaway and dead Han in TFA, we’re going to meet selfish, sarcastic, mean, narcissistic, and out for himself but not funny Han.

Can’t wait. By which I mean I could have happily waited forever, because I wasn’t waiting. I WASN’T WAITING, LARRY.

I get it, though. I’ve seen most of your work. You’re a serious filmmaker — you went from Larry to Lawrence. The Big Chill, Grand Canyon, Accidental Tourist, Mumford. I’ve seen ’em all. God help me, I even saw Dreamcatcher…but that’s a story for another day. What I know from those films is that when you’re calling the shots, nothing is black and white. Everything is a shade of gray.

What I also know is that those films are not made for the part of us that still wants to believe in Santa and that gray is not a good color for Star Wars. Star Wars became the cultural touchstone it is precisely because it jumped into a very gray period in our history, with gas lines and Soviets and malaise, with a black-and-white, good versus evil morality that made everyone just a little bit happier when they left the theatre. You didn’t question if the heroes were heroes or the villains were villains. In its own goofball way, Star Wars — with its complete faith in the power of hope — was countercultural.

Now? The new Star Wars took one look around at our current culture and instead of being countercultural, happily jumped right into the morass and is swimming around in the sludge of relativism. Heroes become failures and run away. Evil characters are given some sort of justification for being evil. Rebels fighting against the Empire are portrayed as assassins instead of people fighting a monstrous evil. The Resistance is some kind of non-governmental paramilitary group. Luke Skywalker thinks the Jedi must end. Oh, and the last two films you’ve written focus on a less noble version of the character you claim to love.

Star Wars is starting to look like a reflection of the worst of us as adults and as a society, instead of a goofy, lovable, out-of-this-galaxy inspiration to kids (and the kid in everyone) to be the best version of themselves.

Hey, I’m sure everyone at Lucasfilm is just fine with this, because these films, despite their shaky worldview, are also printing money, but, Larry, consider that maybe Wonder Woman has proven that there’s still a huge audience for naivete, goodness, and hope. Since you now have Ron Howard, who’s specialized in empathetic leads even in complex films over the years, can you maybe jettison the gray and try to create just one more time not the Han Solo that you love, but the Han Solo that is a combination of you, George Lucas, Irvin Kershner, Harrison Ford, and Leigh Brackett?

That’s the Han — the funny, snarky, constantly-irked one who talked a good game about being out for himself but somehow never was when the chips were down — that the audience has loved for forty years, because, in the end, CS Lewis was as right about this as he was about most things:

Oh, and if you could de-age Harrison Ford so he could play the role, that’d be great too…kthxbai.

Best,

Annie

Written in 2017 by Anne Michaela.

[little-bit-of-cinnamon]

The Difference Between Talking and Doing - Sprace

Race was at a student government conference when his hotel room phone rang. He wasn’t expecting Spot on the other line. 

Sprace modern high school AU

Fluff, getting together

4.1k words

Race has always prided himself on being a leader, being the one that a lost underclassman could ask for directions to class, the one that teachers trust to watch their classroom as they leave the room. He went to all the school events, joined all the committees, and was an active member of student government. And a passionate one at that.

Student government made him feel like he had an impact on the school, like he could listen to his peers and bring new ideas to the table. He felt like he meant something, made a difference. So, he attended all the meetings, volunteered at all the fundraisers. He was at every school event, and everyone knew him because of it.

Race liked being known, it made him feel like he had a real high school experience. He wasn’t just sitting in class, taking notes, and going home.

So, when the annual statewide student government conference rolled around in March, he was the first to apply.

And, unsurprisingly, the first to be accepted.

And, two weeks later, the first on the bus.

Race was an outgoing person, always eager to meet new people and make new friends, yet his favorite part of these events always remained the same. Bonding with his own council. He loved dinners with his friends and underclassmen who he doesn’t know and his advisors. Making jokes and making memories. He loved the SnapChat group Romeo made, sending videos they sneak of their unsuspecting peers as they eat. He loves the teasing, the strengthening of relationships, the level of comfort and acceptance that isn't regularly found in school.

But the very best part wasn’t even a part of the conference itself, it was at night in the hotel. They all piled into Medda’s room, ignoring the teasing they get from other schools’ councils when they find out that they all hang out with their advisor. They play games, truth or dare or never have I ever and other lame party games, they tell embarrassing stories and eat way too many M&Ms. Race loves for it.

Nobody gets enough, or any, sleep and coffee is hard to come by in the morning, with the hundreds of overtired teenagers all with the same need, but nobody gets grumpy, nobody cares that they have to be up at 7. They’re all just happy to be with each other and, honestly, it’s magical.

Race was looking forward to their first night of council bonding all day. He ate dinner, watched the annual conference lip sync battle and then went straight upstairs. He stopped in his room to brush his teeth (he hates the feeling of unbrushed teeth) and went to secure a spot on the extra bed in Medda’s room. Soon, everyone began piling in, squeezing on the bed or sitting on the floor. Talking about who was auditioning for the upcoming play (Race was) and who was surprised that Jack and Davey started dating (Race wasn’t), he felt the familiar comfort and contentedness fill him up and he sunk back into the pillows, grateful to be experiencing this once more.

It was hardly past midnight when there was a knock at the door.

“Who could that be?” Medda asked as she stood from the desk chair, walking to the door.

“I dunno,” said Finch, “I think everyone’s here.”

The man at the door was tall and intimidating, stern eyes and a gray beard.

“I assume you didn’t hear about the curfew.” He looked unamused.

“Oh, I’m sorry. These are all my kids, we’re just doing some bonding and debriefing. I know where everyone is.” Medda explained.

“I’m glad you’ve done the bare minimum but I’m afraid that there is a 12:15 curfew that your students are breaking.” The man smiled but it was obviously fake, condescending.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s alright, everybody is accounted for. We do this every year.”

“Not this year you don’t. Everyone must be back in their assigned rooms immediately. I will be back in five minutes. I am not afraid to bring security.” The man turned on his heel and continued down the hall.

“Well,” Medda shut the door and entered the room, looking shocked, “you heard the man, I guess. Everyone off to bed.”

Everyone began gathering their things and filing out of the room. “I can’t believe that guy would talk to Medda like that, she’s an adult show some respect,” Race said.

“I know, it’s such a bummer. Hanging in here is always my favorite part,” agreed Spot.

Spot Conlon. Senior class president. Intimidating guy. Race has known him for as long as he can remember but he still finds it difficult to talk to him. Spot oozes a sense of too cool for you that Race couldn’t overcome. And it didn’t help that he was literally gorgeous. Race thinks that everyone probably has a crush on Spot but everyone’s too intimidated to say anything.

“Yeah, the whole point of this conference is to strengthen the council. That dude’s bullshit.” Race pulled his key card out of his lanyard and opened the door to his room. “Good night, I guess.” Race stepped into his room and flopped straight to his bed, Crutchie and Jack following.

Race and his roommates were talking and mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, nobody tired because they weren’t expecting to be in bed so soon when the room’s phone rang. Race, his bed being next to the phone on the nightstand, answered.

“Hello?” Race asked, confused.

“Hey, this Racer?” the voice on the other end asked.

“Yeah, Spot?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Why are you calling my room? Nobody uses these phones.” Race sat up against the headboard, answering Jack and Crutchie’s confused faces with a shrug.  

“That dude can’t stop me from talking to people,” Spot said. “So you’re using the shitty hotel phones as your way of sticking it to the man?” Race asked, smiling.

“Honestly, it was the first thing I thought of. What are you guys up to? You with Crutch and Cowboy?”

“Yeah, we were just hanging around. Weren’t expecting to be in bed this early.” Race got comfortable, falling into the conversation.

“Yeah, this totally blows. No offense to my roommates but I wasn’t exactly looking forward to spending the entire night with them.” Race heard a muffled “Dude we’re right here,” from the other line.

And so, they kept talking. About the day, the plans they had for tomorrow, the crazy English teacher they shared. It was hard to believe that they’d hardly talked before tonight.

Race hadn’t noticed the time passing until Jack and Crutchie were both ready to sleep.

“Racer, I don’t wanna put an end to your endless flirting but Crutch and I are gonna go to bed. Wanna do us a favor and shut the fuck up? Ain't this what texting was invented for?” Jack plugged his phone in and set it on the nightstand before taking his socks off and getting into bed. Race checked the clock on the dresser. 3:42.

“Shit, Spot. We should probably get some sleep.” Race said, giving an apologetic smile to Jack. Jack rolled his eyes in response.

“Yeah, I guess. Talk to ya soon Racer.”

Race set down the phone and got up to take his contacts out.

“You two talked for a while,” Crutchie called from his bed to Race in the bathroom.

“He’s just easy to talk to I guess. I don’t know, it’s weird. I’ve never really talked to him much before.” Race washed his hands and stared at his tired eyes in the mirror.

“Yeah and so are we,” Jack called. “You just ignored us for like four hours. I didn’t realize you were trying to get a man this weekend.”

“Shut up, I’m not,” Race walked out of the bathroom wearing his glasses. “He called here, I just had a conversation. Besides, he could have been calling for any of us.”

“Whatever you say but neither of us would have talked to Spot Conlon for more than a minute before hanging up. Right, Crutch?” Jack turned the light off as Race got into bed.

“Honestly I’m surprised you answered the phone,” answered Crutchie.

“So what? I’m personable and you’re jealous. Good night fellas.” Race set his glasses on the nightstand and resisted the urge to text Spot. His number sat unused in Race’s phone. It would be weird if Race texted him, he’s sure Spot only talked to Race to have something to do. No big deal.

The next morning was business as usual. Jack, Race, and Crutchie woke up and groaned about being tired for only a minute before getting ready for the day. The days at the conference were long and busy with little downtime outside of meals so they packed their bags with snacks and their notebooks and phone chargers before meeting up with some of the others to go to breakfast. The three boys along with Davey, Katherine and Finch all met in the hallway and we’re about to leave when another door opened and out stepped Spot.

“Hey, guys. You heading to breakfast?” Spot asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Yeah, you wanna join us?” Asked Davey.

“Thanks. I didn’t get a ton of sleep and my roommates were out early.” The group started walking toward the elevators.

“I wonder why.” Jack elbowed Race in the side as soon as Spot was out of earshot.

Race wasn’t sure how to act. It’s not like he and Spot are best friends. They’ve hardly spent any time together. Sure, now Race knows that Spot wants to be a lawyer and he loves meatball subs and his guilty pleasure is The Bachelorette but still, he hardly actually knows him.

“Shut up, Jack. I don’t wanna hear it.” Race replied quietly yet seriously.

Spot, Katherine, and Finch walked ahead, having some conversation the others couldn’t hear. “What’s going on with Spot and Race?” Davey asked.

“Nothing,” Race insisted but at the same time Crutchie replied, “They spent all night flirting on the hotel phone.”

“Really? Race and Spot Conlon? Not exactly a pair I would put together.”

“Dave, I’m literally standing right here.” Race rolled his eyes.

“Sorry, buddy. Maybe next time if you wanna flirt discreetly do it over text.”

“That’s what I said!” Jack said excitedly, bouncing as he walked.

Race took his phone from his pocket and checked his notifications, ignoring the conversation between the others.

The days at the conference are long and busy. After breakfast they broke into leadership workshops with students from other schools and Race didn’t see his friends for any longer than a passing by in the hallway. He didn’t mind, though. He loves reconnecting with old friends who he hasn’t seen in months or even since the last conference the year before. He plays games and light-hearted get-to-know-you’s while having serious discussions about inclusion and fundraising and school politics. It’s all of Race’s favorite things wrapped into one.

He didn’t think about Spot or Jack or Crutchie, he just had fun, took notes and made friends. After the workshops, they met in the main hall for a keynote speaker. There’s no losing with these. Either they’re very motivational and moving or they're terrible and the council can make jokes about them in the group chat. Race ignored the sadness he felt when Spot sat at a different table. They’re not even really friends, why should he care that he didn’t sit with Race and his friends? He shook off his emotions and took a SnapChat video of Jack under Davey’s arm to caption with a disgusted emoji. There’s no reason he should be bothered by Spot so he’ll just carry on.

That night was the fancy night. There was a banquet where everyone had to dress up and they gave out awards and recognized the best advisors and people gave speeches. But most importantly, it’s boring. The speeches were long and Race never knew who any of the people are anyway. The only benefits are the good food and being able to mess around with his friends with the added thrill of needing to be quiet. Everything’s funnier when you’re not supposed to laugh.

Because the banquet was formal, there was extra time for everyone to get ready than there would usually be for an evening program. Race isn’t finicky about his look. He doesn’t usually try to manage his curls more than wetting and brushing them and that’s the extent of his cosmetic routine. Jack, on the other hand, is surprisingly precise about getting his hair just right and looking his best. Maybe it’s an artist thing, like his hair is a canvas and his too-strong smelling pomade is the paint. Race is sure it also doesn’t help his time management that Davey is sitting on the counter in the bathroom while Jack gets ready in the mirror, but that’s none of his business.

So, Race was lying in bed, already in his dress shirt and bowtie waiting for the rest of his peers to be ready to leave. Eventually, as he waited, people joined him and his room became the hangout for the boys who were already ready to go.

There were probably about eight guys in the room already when Spot walked in. He was wearing a dark navy shirt with a grey tie and he looked incredible. Race fell from second place to seventh on the game of Mario Kart they were playing on Elmer’s Switch when Spot walked in.

“Hey, fellas. I heard some fun in here so I thought I’d stop by.” Spot took a seat on Race’s bed and began watching the game.

“Yeah, man, no problem. We got time to kill and snacks and Mario Kart, I dunno why you’d be anywhere else.” Jack said without taking his eyes off the screen. He was in tenth place but still determined to win. From his spot on the bed, Jack elbowed Race, looking over at him with a small grin. Race glared back.

Spot took a seat on the office chair in the room. “Who’s who?” Spot said, leaning over to see the screen.

“I’m top right,” said Race.

“Damn, Higgins. Seventh place? You gotta step up.” Spot began spinning in the chair.

“Yeah, I was almost in the lead but I got distracted.” Race concentrated on the screen.

“Oh yeah? By what?” Spot stopped the chair’s movement to look at Race.

Race froze. “Uh, nothing. Never mind.”

“Real smooth, Racer.” Jack grinned.

“Shut up, Jack. I don’t wanna hear it.”

Race looked up from the screen to steal a glance at Spot. Race swears he could see Spot look away before they could make eye contact; as if Spot was looking at Race and didn’t want to get caught.  Race grinned and focused his attention back to the game, shooting into third place.

Race ended in third and gave up his spot for the next game, allowing someone else to play. He moved onto Jack’s bed, closer to the desk Spot was sitting in.

“You’re not gonna play?” Race asked Spot.

“Nah, you guys seem to be having fun.” Spot shook his head.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have fun with us.”

“I don’t wanna intrude.”

“It’s not intruding.” Race said, “we’re all here for the same reason. We’re all hanging out.”

“Thanks, Race. Maybe later.” Spot took his phone out of his pocket and looked away from Race. It might be his imagination but Race thinks he can see Spot smile. It feels good to know that he is the one who caused it.

“Is anyone naked in here?” A voice came from outside the door.

“Yeah, Kat. We all are, come on in.” Jack called back.

The door opened. “Shut up, I wanted to make sure it was safe to enter. You guys ready?”

Katherine looked beautiful with her makeup done and her dress complimenting her body.

“We good fellas?” asked Jack. The guys began gathering their things and heading toward the door.

“You look beautiful, Katherine.” Race said, “That dress is bangin’”

“Aw, thanks, Racetrack. You’re not too bad yourself.”

Everyone met in the hallway and Medda led them down to the banquet hall. They took some group pictures and Race became a designated photographer for some of the girls having photoshoots for Instagram before he got dragged into some photos himself.

He loved this environment, where everyone was friends even if they don’t talk much at school. Maybe that’s why Spot’s been talking to him. Not because he wants to talk to Race, in particular, he just has been in the mood to be social, to meet people, to bond. That was probably it. There was no reason for Spot to call Race’s room, he probably didn’t even know who was in each room. And he could have wanted to talk to Jack or Crutchie. There was nothing there.

Race was determined to not let this realization ruin his mood. The dinner on banquet night is always the best and the way the council sneaks videos of each other failing to stay awake during the speeches is one of his favorite parts of the night. He still has that and he has his friends with him and that’s all he needs.

In the banquet hall Race sat next to Davey and Katherine, which means Jack, Crutchie, and Sarah were coming in tow.  The rest of the council filled into the tables nearby, and the chatter and excitement for dinner and the dance later that night filled the room.

Race’s mood didn’t fall for the rest of the night. The dinner ended and people were clearing the hall to prepare for the dance. They were serving ice cream in the hotel lobby to keep the students busy while they put the tables away. The excitement of the dance that night echoed through the lobby as people lined up to get back into the hall.

The dance was crowded and hot and sweaty and shouldn’t be enjoyable but Race was in his element. His throat hurt from screaming the lyrics to random pop songs as well as student government favorites but he wouldn’t have it any other way. A slow song came on and Race left the dance floor. He could see his coupled friends move toward each other and some of his other friends dance together as a half-joke half-platonic loving gesture. Race headed to the refreshments to get some water.

He was filling his cup when someone came up behind him.

“Hey, Racer.”

Race turned around to see Spot Conlon behind him holding an empty cup.

“Spot, hey. Slow songs not your thing?” Race took a sip.

“Not when I have nobody to dance with.” Spot filled his own cup.

“Yeah, I feel that.”

“Is there something weird between us?” Spot asked suddenly. “We talked so much last night but today it’s like we don’t even know each other.”

“Oh, thank God.” Race let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. The lights changed and Race’s favorite song started playing. “I gotta go, but let’s just say if you called again tonight, I’d answer.” Race threw away his cup and ran toward the dancefloor. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

The dance ended and Race and his friends were walking back to their rooms. When they turned the corner down the hall they saw the same man from the night before waiting by their rooms.

“There someone you’re looking for?” Asked Jack.

“No, I’m just here to make sure this council stays in their assigned rooms tonight, it seems you can’t be trusted.” The man stood with his arms crossed, looking down the hallway.

“Alright then, good night I guess.” Jack took his keycard out and opened their room and Race and Crutchie followed him in.

“That seems unnecessary,” said Crutchie.

“Yeah, totally,” Race said but he was too focused on the phone. He hadn’t talked to Spot since he saw him at the dance.

Race took a shower, hoping the whole time that the phone wouldn’t ring while he was bathing. Because it seemed that this year there would be no council bonding this year Race brushed his teeth and took his contacts out before changing into pajamas. He was sitting on his bed texting his mom when the phone rang.

“Hey.” Race tried to not sound too excited.

“What’s up, Racer?”

“Not much, apparently. I can’t believe that guy won’t let us hang out in Medda’s room”

“Don’t worry. I figured out a way. Come through the sliding door.”

Race looked across the room to the door leading to a courtyard. The hotel was shaped like a rectangle with a garden in the center. Race can’t believe he hadn’t thought of this. If the people on this side of the hall go through the courtyard they could get into each other’s rooms.

“Spot, you’re a genius.” Race hung up the phone and headed toward the door, ignoring Crutchie asking where he’s going.

When Race got outside he saw Spot waiting with a smug grin on his face.

“Nice glasses, Racetrack.”

Spot was still wearing his formalwear from the dance and Spot was suddenly very aware of his flannel pajama pants and glasses.

“Yeah, I guess I wasn’t expecting to see anyone but Jack and Crutch tonight.”

Spot’s grin grew. “So if you knew you were gonna see me you would’ve gotten all dolled up?”

Race could feel his cheeks grow red. “I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

“Race?” Spot asked quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna kiss me as badly as I wanna kiss you?”

“Yeah,” Race repeated with a smile.

“Get over here, then.”

Race stepped forward, closing the space between them. Spot’s arms wrapped around Race’s waist and he pulled him closer. Race didn’t know how badly he wanted this until it started happening but now he can’t imagine a world without Spot. Two days ago Race and Spot hardly spoke. They had different friends, different classes, different lives and Race had no clue what he was missing out on.

They separated when they heard the door to Race’s room open.

“Racetrack Higgins, you mean to tell me that you found a way to hang out with other rooms and you didn’t tell us so that you could stand out in the cold and make out with Spot?” Jack looked offended as he walked outside, Crutchie following.

“It was Spot’s idea.” Race said, defensively.

“Hey, don’t bring me into this.” Spot whacked Race on the chest.

“It doesn’t matter.” Crutchie shut the door behind him. “We’re gonna be in Finch and Dave’s room. We’ll text when we’re heading back.” Crutchie’s smile implied that he knew exactly what they were doing as they left the room empty.

It was well past midnight when Jack and Crutchie were crossing back through the courtyard back to their room. Race hadn’t answered their texts and they feared they were going to see more than they ever wanted to see when they opened the door.

Crutchie walked inside and was surprised to see Spot and Race cuddled under the blankets on Race’s bed, Race’s glasses smashed against his face.

“Aw, they’re sweet.” Crutchie looked to Jack, smiling. Jack still had a hand over his eyes. “Jack, you’re ridiculous you can open your eyes.”

“You can never be too safe, Crutch. I didn’t need any new mental scars tonight.”

They decided to let the boys sleep, nobody got enough sleep at these conferences anyway. They were leaving the next morning and it’s always difficult to get up and pack when they haven’t slept all weekend. So, they were quiet as they got themselves ready for bed before they shut the light off and went to sleep.

The next morning Spot woke up confused as to where he was. It wasn’t until he saw Race standing across the room that his confusion melted away into a smile.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead,” Race said, his words muffled into his toothbrush. “You should probably head back to your room to pack and get ready for breakfast.”

Spot pried himself from the bed, groaning at the discomfort as he stood. “I can’t believe you guys let me sleep in my dress clothes.”

“Sorry, man, but I think there would have been bloodshed if we woke you up,” Crutchie responded as he packed his suitcase.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Spot walked to Race and pressed a kiss to his temple before leaving the room. Race was giddy as he went back into the bathroom to spit his toothpaste.

“So, things seem pretty good with you guys, what happened last night?” Jack asked.

“We did what we’re best at. We talked.”

[hopetofantasy]

‘Tout oublier’

Title: ‘Tout oublier’ Square Filled: Crackship Ship: Jens Stoffels/Robbe Ijzermans  Trigger Warnings (if applicable): none applied. Mostly longing and softness, no kissing or smut  - only hinted at. Created for @skamevents 

Notes: As a huge VDS and Sobbe supporter, I challenged myself to write something outside my own comfort zone. A crackship that I don’t entirely support, but hey, I tried my best! :) (Btw, who can spot the cameo?)

The title comes from an ‘Angèle’ song, a Belgian singer Luca referenced (and sang along with) in S2. I thought it fit this work like a glove.

“Well, if it isn’t the man of the hour. It’s about time that you showed up!”

A seemingly casual statement, answered by a mischievous smile. Long brown locks radiating a ‘I just got laid’ look, covered by a two sizes too big sweatshirt. Clearly not his own. Dark eyes anxiously darted towards his. 

Oh yes, my dear, you are in so much trouble now.

“Robbe, what were you thinking?! You just went with the guy, like that, without saying anything to us. We couldn’t find you anywhere! You didn’t answer any texts or calls, we had no clue where you were! He could’ve been a rapist for all we know! How could you be so irresponsible?!”

Wow, back up there, turbo. You need to relax. 

He slowly lifted up his hand to pinch his nose, in a desperate attempt to relax. Breath in, breath out. Damn, it wasn’t his intention going off like that, especially since he looked like a parent now. Robbe didn’t deserve this. Not only because they were best friends, but also roommates. Broerrrs, but there was still a line. 

Don’t go there, Jens. You’re not responsible for everything he does. 

He just wished the boy would listen. It’s a harsh world out there, especially for LGBT youngsters. And they didn’t know the neighborhood that well. They’ve only just moved in, like, a month ago. The boysquad knew a thing or two about Antwerp, but Ghent? A whole other ballpark. Even though, you know, the fishing pond was bigger here than it ever was in Antwerp, he had to admit. 

Soooo not the point, Stoffels. 

Robbe pulled out a smile, watery smile. He knew exactly what he was doing, with the innocent Bambi look. A hand on his shoulder, a reassuring nod, yet with a hint of irritation. 

“Yeah, okay, Jens, I’m sorry I didn’t leave a message. But if I wanted to have sex with some random dude, then that’s my choice. Something I decided. What I wanted to to! Alright? I don’t want people parenting me. I already have a father, well, only my father, but-”

The smaller boy paused for a while. A glimpse of hurt clouded his face, for just a second. Just enough to weaken Jens’ anger. He knew how hard it all had been, coming out in the midst of his father’s mental health. Oliver had worked too hard for his family. To keep it all together. Completely burned out, the specialist had said. He kept trying to provide a good home for his son, despite every financial struggle they faced in the past. 

Jens knew Robbe blamed himself for this. Even though it was never his fault, the scars were there nevertheless. He sighed and pulled him in for a tight hug.

“I’m sorry.”

Ever since high school, he had felt responsible for the boy. Trying to compensate for everything people did that made it all harder. So when Robbe asked him to be his roommate, he said ‘yes’ on the spot. Now he only needed to learn about their boundaries, where they lie and what they were. 

Since Robbe walked into the room, he had felt something stir in his stomach. Relief? What else could it have been? That the other was safe, at home. Or what you could call their home. A four-by-four dorm room, entirely filled with boys’ sweatshirts, leftover pizza boxes and mismatched furniture. 

Yet, something still gnawed in the inside. To be honest, he never knew Robbe was the type of guy for random hook-up with a random stranger. Jens always thought that was more his forté. Robbe was the romantic, doe-eyed boy with the heart on his sleeve. So maybe Jens didn’t want to be left behind? Especially now that they’re both out and proud, with way more game than their small town high school. 

Was it that what’s bothering him?  

“Hmmm, whatever, bro. Next time, chill out. I’d rather not tell you every time I go with a guy. It’s bad enough that we share a space with barely any breathing room. I’ll be hearing too much of you anyways. And vice versa”, Robbe huffed. He pushed his roommate out of the way and started to undress for bed, before flopping down. Almost passing out immediately. 

Jens’ features started to soften a little. Gosh, it was sometimes unnerving how easily Robbe could get away with things, by pulling his infamous puppy eyes and awkward jokes. It turned everyone’s insides into mush. 

Nobody could stay mad at him, ever. His roommate was wired like that. So it also didn’t come as a shock when Robbe mumbled the following:

“I still have his number, by the way, if you would like to ‘have a go’ at it”

What did came as a shock, however, was how fast a pillow could hit a face that didn’t expect retaliation. 

The topic of hook ups came up again a few weeks after that.

“So, Jens, if you had to choose: would you rather kiss a boy or a girl? I mean, you do have a preference, right?”, Moyo coughed out with great effort. This question was instantly answered by a bitch slap to the head, followed by a collective fit of laughter. 

The boys were lying on the common room floor, in the midst of their building, passing around the joint. They had been binging on chocolate bars before. Empty wrappers still scattered around their heads, close enough to ball one up and hit Moyo. He deserved it. The boy wasn’t exactly known for his friendly behavior. On the contrary.

“What kind of question is that? I don’t care. So why would you?”, Jens  answered hazily. He’d already grown tired of these questions in the first months of his coming out, when everyone walked up to him to ask really personal stuff. ‘Did you have sex with boys before?’ ‘Are you sure that you are bisexual and not just homosexual?’ ‘You’re now attracted to everyone, right?’

“I don’t, bro. I’m just asking, because I have some options for you. As in, hot girls’ numbers in my phone and friends who know hot single gays. So, if you’re want, just say so. I can hook you up with anyone. Male or female. I mean, it’s been ages, right? When was the last time you got laid?!” 

Another laugh accompanied Moyo’s loud howl. “It’s true, you know, I’ve gotten more D than you in these last few months.” Gosh, Robbe was such a traitor. Jens sighed and pulled himself up by the elbows, looking around the group of misfits. Aaron was already dosing off next to him. No surprise there, he never could handle his weed. 

Especially Dutch marihuana. 

Out of nowhere, Moyo started humming a popular rap song, instantly forgetting what he asked minutes before. Robbe joined in by tapping his fingers on his bleached jeans. A burgundy beanie covered his eyes as well as the messy mop of hair. Jens found himself more and more fascinated by his best friend’s locks lately, ever since he started growing it past his shoulders again. He never noticed how nicely they framed his face. 

“I can fix my own hook ups, broerrrs. I don’t need any help.”, Jens huffed out eventually after being distracted by the sudden change. 

“Don’t bullshit me, Jens, you don’t even hang out with anyone but us lately!”, the brunette retaliated. He immediately snatched the joint out of Jens’ hands, blowing some smoke clouds into the air. Jens caught himself looking at it. 

The smoke... 

The eyes...

The lips...

Euhm, what? What the hell was this? Since when I stare at my roommate’s lips? Okay, maybe, maybe I do need some relief after all. That could be the only reason I want to stare at Robbe. 

Right?

Right? 

Right?

His mind was still frazzled, but he was eventually able to huff out an agreement towards Moyo. The latter one pulled out his phone immediately to check out the options. A tall leggy blonde? A beautiful chocolate colored man? A petite pixie-cut brunette? Wow, Moyo didn’t overreact when he said that he knew people. 

They finally settled on a guy Jens had spotted in the local skatepark before. A somewhat rugged, beach blonde with beautiful eyes. Leather jacket, artsy vibe? He seemed cool. Moyo’s friend Noor had been to school with this dude. It wasn’t necessarily his type, but hey, it was just for one night. Nothing more. 

So it was a date. 

Kinda. 

Then why was his brain still picturing smoke on a certain someone's lips?

The thought still occupied his mind a couple of days later. Jens never knew how this situation came to be. How he suddenly felt something towards Robbe. Attraction. Because that’s exactly what it was. There was no way of denying it. He had felt it for weeks, maybe even months, without acknowledging it. He couldn’t be feeling this. It was wrong, so completely wrong!

Robbe was Robbe, he was like a brother, he was his best friend and roommate. 

Okay, there was only one way to get over someone, Moyo always said: 

“Get under someone!”

So why didn’t he? 

The cute guy in front of him was the perfect distraction. He was a smooth talker, a sight for sore eyes and surely knew his way around guys as well as girls. He was pansexual, he explained, gender didn’t matter to him. When he liked someone, he liked someone. Didn’t think twice about it. And he seemed to like Jens. Enough to kiss him. Enough to go back to his dorm room.

Except...

Something in Jens closed down the moment they arrived at the door. His date seemed to have felt his hesitation, immediately stopping the trail of kisses from his ear to his shoulder. The air between them seemed to cool down in mere seconds, filled with insecurity and unanswered questions. A leather jacket was the only sound heard in the heavy silence. 

“You don’t want to do this, do you?”

Jens’ eyes said it all. He knew that he didn’t need to tell the stranger what he felt. People always claimed the dark haired boy was an open book, which was a blessing as well as a burden. God, why couldn’t he just do this? Just be with a guy, any guy, especially one as attractive as this one and get it all over with? Stop being such a frikking dumbo and take him inside!

But he didn’t move. He wasn’t truthful to himself, to the other boy, to Robbe. He needed to end this before it even started. It wasn’t right. So he slowly backed away from the beach blonde and said his fast goodbyes along with a string of sorrys. The other seemed to accept this sudden change of behavior, with a knowing glint in his eyes. As if he knew how much of a mess his head felt. As if he’d experienced something like this before. 

Once inside, he’d only wished he had stayed with his date. Robbe was lying on the floor, seemingly upset, clinging to an old stuffed animal. Red rimmed eyes. His hair a total mess. Sobbing like a baby. His own heart shattered on the spot.

A chernobyl explosion. 

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”, he whispered silently. 

He tried to look inside those brown eyes he liked so much. The ones who moved his world, made him feel all things at once. He needed to see what caused this distress. Because Robbe didn’t cry. Ever. He didn’t cry when his mom left at age 10, he didn’t cry when he father got diagnosed at age 15 and he didn’t even cry when his grandparents called him hurtful names when he came out to them at age 17.

Jens slowly crawled towards the smaller boy, hauling his body off the floor and cradling his head into his arms. The soft touch confused his heart. He knew Robbe was able to hear the thrumming beat, but he could care less at the moment. His boy was crying. His boy needed reassurance. So he held him tight and listened. Listened to the hiccups and the slurring speech, the wails and the cries. Half an hour later, Robbe was finally able to answer the question.

“Dad... he couldn’t deal with me leaving. Broke down completely. He’s inside the hospital, psychiatric ward, Jens. They don’t know if he’ll ever heal from this. He’s empty. He’s clinically depressed. He doesn’t even know how to feel love anymore. I’ve got nobody to love me anymore. And it’s all my fault, I left him...”

The sobbing continued at a louder volume. The beautiful brown eyes filled with such pain, it made Jens sick to his stomach. He couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled the boy out of his arms, his hands firmly gripping Robbe’s upper arms. It’ll bruise, but he didn’t want to let go. Robbe needed to know. 

“Robbe, listen to me! Clinically depressed doesn’t mean your dad doesn’t love you anymore, okay?! Your dad is going through a hard time in his life. He probably struggling with this for a while and it only now faced the world. It’s not your fault! He held on as long as he did, because of you, Robbe. Because you were the light in his life. You still are! You always are, for everyone I know. For your family, for your friends, for me. Especially for me... Gosh, I love you so much, you don’t even know.”

Oh my god.

What did he say?! 

Fock, fock, fock.

Oh no. Robbe suddenly looked at him with a puzzled expression. He saw the mechanics whirring inside his head, linking every accidental touch with his upped heartbeat, every soft sentence with his longing stares. Jens knew he went too far. It’ll only take a couple of seconds to realize how much the raven haired boy had concealed. From the world, from Robbe and from himself. He loved him? Really? Since when?

Robbe had pulled away quickly, like a deer caught in headlights. Making his heart ache for a do-over, another chance to explain everything. To come clean and tell him it was a mistake saying this. But before he could say a word, he felt a slight pressure on his chin. Lifting it up. It was the smaller boy again, sitting up this time. 

Brown eyes stared into his, like he wanted to communicate something without forming a sound. They didn’t need any words. They would never. The sorrow was forgotten, the love was touched. The heart was healed again. Their sweet touches, their soft sighs, their teasing glances. Between them and their feelings.

Everything was said that night.

It was always them.

Against the rest of the world.

Only the two of them.

And the next morning?

Well, the next morning,

they never spoke of it again. 

Everything was forgotten.

Tout oublier.

Pour y croire, il faudrait tout oublier.