#plus u know I got the soundtrack too

[atlasshrugd]

↳ Chapter 1 of WHITE NIGHTS has dropped!

(Read here on ao3)

Porsche frowns. “You know, you could say thank you.” Before Porsche can wonder why he said that, the stranger looks up. He has a sharp face, coal-black eyes, and a look that makes Porsche take two steps back. The silence sharpens, and Porsche becomes finely aware of how alone they are in the alley, and how nobody would think to find him there. But then the stranger says, “Thank you.” His voice is quiet, precise, lonesome. Porsche takes a deep breath, making him realize that he’s been holding it. “You’re welcome.”

Summary:

The gangs of Bangkok have always described themselves as ‘God-fearing people.’

They should have been worried about someone else.

Kinn is the young leader of the main crime family in 1990’s Bangkok, hunted by rival gangs after the death of his father, the Chao Pho. Chao Pho left a ‘key to the city’ that will supposedly grant the owner full control of all gang syndicates, but not even Kinn knows where or what it is.

Meanwhile, Porsche is an idealistic police cadet seeking revenge on the mob for his father's death, despite his vow of never taking a life. When he unknowingly saves the Phrai Ngu, the revered Ghost Serpent, and the man he has sworn to capture, the mob boss takes a liking to him and requests him to be the liaison between the syndicate and the police.

As the Chief Superintendent orders Porsche to gain Kinn’s trust to double-cross him, Porsche sets his plans of revenge in motion. But as Porsche’s secret meetings with Kinn occur over the months, they unexpectedly find solace in each other’s company, and the lines of honour begin to blur.

[ppushable]

moodboard creds to @firefly--bright tytyty

low tide

jean kirschtein x fem!reader / multichapter / wc: 10.8k

part 2 of rose tinted hours

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Monday morning and here I am, missing out on my classes, struck with a sore throat and an invisible ax sticking out of my head.

Maybe the only nice thing about today is the man craning over me in the dark, feeding me porridge.

That, and the overly-sweet tea.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

cw: kissing.

there's a soundtrack for this one! completely optional, of course.

queue: ==> new home (slowed), austin farwell ==> dreamcore, daniel.mp3 ==> farewell, erikson jayanto ==> october, adrián berenguer ==> parfum d’etoiles, ichiko aoba ==> i was only temporary 2 u, my head is empty ==> might start singing - sped up, sheldon charlot

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

The figures in front of the dorm converge in front of Jean’s car as they engage in some sort of conversation. Sasha (I think that’s Sasha) slinks around Jean’s taller form and attaches herself to the side of his car, being scraped off a moment later.

Unsticking myself from the window, I carefully reposition the dark blue curtains so that no light filters through, the simple action causing my head to swim as if filled with honey.

I got Jean’s flu. Which, obviously, is to be expected, considering what happened yesterday. Paired with the fact that we slept together last night.

As in, laid down and fell asleep in the same bed with nothing strange happening in between. Whoever came up with that wording needs to be shot.

Contrarily, Jean is perfectly fine. And despite all the urging that I’ll be fine too and that he shouldn’t skip out on classes, he’d insisted on staying right here.

Not that I’m complaining.

I glance at the red numbers projected onto the corner of the ceiling indicating the time as I sit back so I’m leaning against the wall. 8:28. Almost time for my first class, which I won’t be going to, as so firmly put by Jean before I shooed him away.

“If I come back here and the room’s empty, I’ll make Connie march into Hospitality with a condom pulled over his head with your name written on it.”

He’d do that, too.

Running my hands over Jean’s fleecy Cars blanket, I find and unlock my phone to type a quick message to Sasha.

me: sorry sash,, not coming to hospitality. i got sick :(

me: jeans staying home for me tho. dont wait up <3

Pray she doesn’t get the wrong idea.

sashacado: dw about it!!!

sashacado: 😏

I shut my eyes as the screen induces a sudden wave of dizziness. Alright then. Knowing her, everyone and their mom will know about this before the day ends. I toss the phone somewhere on my bed and it falls to the ground.

Jean, where are you?

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

He nearly barrels into an old lady in the soup aisle. With a profuse apology, he continues half-jogging to the fridges, glancing at the list on his phone.

🖤: onions, rotisserie chicken (should be on sale), chicken broth

🖤: oh also rice. and carrots and mushrooms if u can. plus milk. thats a must

🖤: im trusting u wkth this. if u spend over budget im scalping u personally

🖤: <3

He can’t help the little smile that twinges his mouth with the last text. There it is. The end product of many sleepless nights, wondering if his feelings were, in fact, reciprocated. All in a little text. Less than three. Two dumb symbols he’s dreamed of receiving. It makes his heart feel a little warmer in his chest, a little heavier, like a reverse-Grinchification. The good ending, he can hear Connie saying.

That, or he’s misconstruing the whole thing. That’s definitely possible too! She sends that little symbol to everyone. For all he knows, he probably moved up the friend ranking a little. It probably means nothing at all.

Watching the pill be so carelessly popped into her mouth, that small smile, the look in those eyes. Hands on the headboard. Hand on his body. Hand in his hair—

“Woah! Excuse me, sir—”

And then reality comes shooting back to him like an oncoming bullet train, because nothing snaps Jean out of his happy place like that voice.

“Kirschtein?”

Jean stops in his tracks and slowly turns, somewhat hoping it’s not who he thinks it is yet knowing at the same time. “Jaeger.“

“What the hell are you doing? You can’t run in a grocery store.”

And there he is in the flesh; Eren Jaeger, the hobo-looking microbiology major that for some reasons girls (even stone-cold Mikasa) love to swoon over. Not that he cares, really. What’s more important is the fact that he’s in full customer service garb: plain jeans with lanyard string sticking out of the front pocket, blue vest, retractable name tag.

And Jean can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of his chest.

“What the hell are you laughing at?” Eren mutters, damn well knowing why.

“What, no ‘hello, sir?’ Aren’t— aren’t you supposed to be asking if I need help finding anything? Sir?” The old lady in the soup aisle is staring at him as he devolves into a full cackle.

Eren’s scowl deepens. “That’s low, Kirschtein, even for you.”

“Stop being such a pissbaby. I’m only laughing because it’s you.”

“Romantic.” Rolling his eyes, Eren shoves his hands into his pockets. “Speaking of which, don’t you have someone waiting for you at your dorm?”

Jean shuts up immediately and blinks. “What?”

“You know, your lover.” He smirks. “Sasha told us all about you two.” He ducks his head to do something on his phone and a second later Jean’s own pings.

aaron yogurt: One image attachment

Raising an eyebrow, Jean moves back against the aisle (away from soup lady’s scrutinizing gaze) before opening it. It’s a screenshot of a groupchat, with the first text being a screenshot from Sasha of what appears to be some texts.

sash: we did it boys

bald idiot: 🔥🔥💯💯‼️🤯🤯🥶🥶🥶🥶

bald idiot: everyone stand up and clap for sasha

sash: ill fucking kill you springer

miks: so are they together now?

sash: UH YEAH DIDNT U READ THE TEXT? JEAN TRANSFERRED HIS SICKNESS. HOW? THEY SLEPT OVERNIGHT IN JEANS DORM. TOGETHR. WITH NOBODY AROUND. ALL MY DOING TYVM. AND NOW THEIR STILL TOGETHEE.

min: That’s inconclusive, Sasha. You can get sick just being near a person.

marc (replying to @/sash): they’re*

marc: besides who would leave Jean there all alone overnight?

me: me

And then the screenshot cuts off.

“Romantic,” Eren drawls.

“Shut up.” Jean makes a mental note to find and perhaps tie Sasha to a rocket.

“Oh, come on. Everyone knows you’re whipped. You’re like a little schoolgirl when it comes to this kind of stuff.” Bringing his fists up to his face, he puts on the stupidest face ever and giggles.

“Fuck off.” Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Jean tries to cover the heat on his face. “Just tell me where the hell you guys put the chicken.”

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

The sound of the front door unlocking heaves me out of the half-drowsy phase I’ve been simmering in for the last, what… I glance at the ceiling clock again. Half hour?

“Hey! I’m back!” Every word becomes a little louder as Jean barges down the hall, tosses something into Connie’s room, and appears in the doorway.

“What was that?”

“Huh?”

“The thing you put in Connie’s room.”

His shadow pauses. “Just… something for Connie. Is everything okay?”

I smile. “How the hell did you go to the gym like this?”

Plastic crinkles as he sets the bag down on the ground. “Well,” he says, walking closer, “I was thinking of you. And how much you love my really big muscles.”

My smile cracks wider. “Is that so.”

“Mhm.”

“Were you also—”

“Mmm?”

“—thinking about how pissed I would be—”

He inhales.

“—when I found you?”

His lips curve upward, maybe a little to close to mine. “Maybe a little.”

I tap his thick sleeve. “Go take this big thing off.”

He recoils immediately. “As you wish.” And sheds the coat, dumping it against his chair.

“Are you hungry?”

Fixing his sleeve, he shrugs.

“What do—” my voice cracks as it runs dry— “what do you eat when it’s just you and Connie?”

“Cereal. Bread sometimes.”

“I really expected better from you.”

“I’m healthy.”

I let my eyes drag shut. “Your idea of fighting off a cold is… going to the gym.”

“Healthy.”

“You’re a piece of work.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do the— does the window open?”

Clothes rustle. “Yeah. But I’m not opening it.”

“It’s hot.”

And he looks back. “You’re sick.”

“Well, I don’t plan to strip in front of you.”

Jean sighs but it only takes a moment for it to turn into a laugh. “Alright.”

I try to swallow but my throat’s dried up between the time I woke up and now. “I’m getting up.”

“Sure you are.”

“I’m thirsty.”

“Aren’t you needy?” he teases. “What do you want? I can get it for you.”

“You’ll burn the dorms down trying to make tea.”

“Since when did you have such little faith in me?”

I crack my eyes open. “Connie told me you tried to stop a grease fire by splashing water on it.”

He’s rolling his eyes. “Your first mistake was believing Connie. He loves to spread misinformation. Especially about me.”

“Okay, Jean.” I shake my hand in his general direction and he takes it, large, warm hand clasping mine. “Pull me up.”

He smiles and leans in to wrap his other arm under my knees, his neck pressing into my face. Muffled, cheap cologne. “What are you doing?”

In one smooth movement, he releases my hand to slide his other arm across my back. Holding me at the anchor points.

“Wait.” Already a sinking feeling drains through my organs. “Jean, wait—”

With a small heave he lugs me off the bed and my arms immediately sling around his neck. “Jean!”

“Hmm?”

“Put me down!” And I would be laughing if not for my throat and the fact that I’m clinging on for dear life.

He looks down at me, still with that smile. “Hmm. No.”

And the way his voice rumbles through his chest into mine as he hums deeply makes me want to explode. I dive my face into the cloth of his sweatshirt, ignoring the strange way my weight is distributed, the chance that something might slip and I’ll fall to my untimely demise.

“You can let go of me.” He starts walking. “I won’t drop you.”

Pushing harder into his chest, I say, “I’m heavy.”

“No, you’re not.” As if to prove himself, he lifts me a few inches higher as he shimmies through what I think is the door. My grip tightens as the pressure on my back and thighs increases. “Okay, you’re choking me.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Relax, okay? I’m strong.“

“Jean.”

“Come on, look at me.”

I have to force myself to meet his eyes.

It’s not just about how high up I am, or how heavy I might be, or how intimidatingly good-looking he is (I definitely look like shit). It’s about the power.

Things have changed since yesterday. Now it’s Jean’s turn to take charge. And just like he did, I’ll have to allow that.

==> new home (slowed), austin farwell

“Do you trust me?“

His words hit like boulders against my stomach and his eyes are so wide as they dig into mine, so willing to accept the outcome yet so full of this new, gentle compassion that I’ve never seen before. A willingness. An invitation. An assurance. A desire.

So many sides of Jean I’ve never seen before have been presented to me in the past day and it makes my head so heavy it might snap clean off my neck and roll across the floor with the other boulders like a macabre marble match.

Do I trust him?

With a final squeeze, I let my hands fall to rest on either side of his chest. He smiles, showing a sliver of teeth.

Of course I do.

I watch his face as we go to the makeshift kitchen. “So you want tea?”

Though he can’t see me nod, he should be able to feel it.

“It’s easy, right? I just boil some water, and then. I.” Seemingly unconscious to the action, he worries his upper lip as he thinks. “We’ll get there when we get there.” He looks back down. “Where’s the tea?”

With a stupid grin I point to the cabinet where I found the tea and Jean lifts me to height — fucking lifts me a good five feet into the air — so I can snatch the tea packets. “Put me down! I’ll kill your arms.”

He lowers me back to waist-chest height. “So that’s the tea.”

I set the box on my stomach. “You— you’ve never used it before?”

“Forget I said anything. Now what?”

“Now, we… are you sure you don’t want to put me down?”

He rolls his eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t separate like a chameleon’s. “I’m strong. Let me carry you.”

God I want to shut his smirk up so bad but if I’m in no position to reach up and… I don’t know. I’d do something. Arrogant little prick. “Counter.”

Jean obliges and I take the kettle one-handedly, emptying the old water and adding more, enough for two cups again. “You want some?”

“Is there enough for both of us?”

“Yeah.”

“Hit me.”

I hit the plunger on the kettle. “Mugs.”

So we move like this, a strange, inefficient, two-person machine. I nearly drop one of the cups, all the cabinet doors are left open, and nearly a quarter of the milk got spilled because I cut the hole in the milk bag too big.

But we got it done. Like yesterday, I find myself drawing little circles into his back, and again, I have to stop myself. “Are you sure you don’t want to—”

“No.”

“You didn’t let me finish my sentence.”

“I know what you’re thinking anyway.”

What an asshole. “There’s milk all over the ground.”

“I’ll clean it.”

“I can’t drink my tea if you’re carrying me.”

“I think we have a straw somewhere.”

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes and I smack his back. “At least let me sit. My legs are going numb.”

“That I can do,” he purrs, every word dripping with smug that lands on my face like hot wax. I want to curl into myself as he swings me like a mannequin, placing me on the couch as if I’m made of cobwebs. “Don’t move.”

I’m going to kill him. Cold air presses in on me and I push myself into the rough fabric in a vain attempt to escape it.

Jean returns with both mugs and offers one to me before sitting down on the other side of the couch and taking a sip, recoiling immediately as if slapped. “Hot!” He puts the mug down and hones in on me. “Don’t drink it yet.”

Rubbing the sides of the cup, I soak in the fleeting warmth it offers me. “I’m thirsty, Jean.”

He blinks, putting his hands up as if suddenly unsure of what to do with them. “Uh.” Then he holds them out. “Here.”

Our hands brush as I hand over my beverage. Once, twice, he dips his head forward as if to drink it, purses his lips, and asks, “is it okay if I blow on it?”

I get a little warm inside. “You… don’t have to do that.”

“I’d like to. I mean,” he adds quickly, “if you’re comfortable with that.” Two of his fingers tap the glass in a rhythm known only to himself. I smile a little. Didn’t we literally kiss?

“Okay.”

He flashes me a quick smile in return before puckering and puffing gently, cautiously into the tea, blowing small ripples that lap at the opposite side of the mug but never spill over. I trace a green line on the couch until it disappears over the curve of the back cushion and a shiver abruptly passes through me.

“Jean.”

“Mmm?”

With effort, I wrench myself into a sitting position, spurring him to look over from his delicate task.

“Hey—”

“Sorry. Can I… can I hold you?”

He stops. I stop. “Oh, I— uh.” He rubs the bridge of his nose. “Of course.”

Hesitantly, my arms snake around his closest to me and I lean my head against his shoulder. Feeling the expansion and contraction of his chest with every forced exhalation.

This feels different from last night. That was a necessity. I mean, I couldn’t leave him all alone; he was in rough shape. Not to mention he didn’t want to be alone. Not that he… terribly influenced my decision. No. I did it because I’m taking care of him and nothing more. Like… inserting a catheter. Strictly a necessity.

As for the pill, well. That’s… well, I’m just kidding myself at this point.

Maybe I am a bit in love with him. Maybe I don’t know what to do with myself around him anymore. Should I lean in for a quick peck? Give him a fist bump? Stroke or tousle his hair?

He likes me back, right? He does, right? I mean, the way he looks at me is… different.

Right?

I close my eyes. “Tell me a story.”

“Mmm.” His little baritone hum, deep in his chest; does he know what it does to me? “Tea first.”

Groggily, I open my eyes as the warm brim of the mug presses against my bottom lip and tilts; I open to let the warm fluid run into my mouth. “Mmmh,” I grunt, and he puts the mug away.

“You were saying?” Jean says softly, landing his closest hand over my shoulder, rubbing in circles with his thumb. I look into his eyes and the acidic words forming on my tongue neutralize right there.

“Tell me a story.”

“Let’s get comfy first.”

I let my head fall onto his arm again but he takes my shoulder and gently pushes me onto my back, hovering over me, silhouetted by the light. “Is your neck okay like this?”

My words are but a whisper. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he murmurs as he lies down himself, trapping me between his warm body and the back of the couch. It’s small piece of furniture; Jean’s visible leg hangs over the other armrest and he probably has the other on the ground.

“Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

His breath hits my face as he speaks. “It’s okay.”

My eyes trace up the curve of his body, up to his face which is so close to mine we might as well be touching, and he smiles again, and this time I can see how it lights up his entire face; the way his skin stretches, the way his eyes get a little smaller. If I really focus, I can see my own reflection.

“What kind of story do you want?”

“Whatever makes you happy.”

Our gazes don’t break as he pauses, and when he speaks, his voice fills the air between us, vibrating every molecule. “When I was a kid, my mom would tell me stories.”

“Mmm-hm.”

“They were always about my dad. And I never really understood why she told me these stories.” He breathes out in amusement. “I’d get so… irritated. Asked her why she always told me stories about the guy that didn’t — doesn’t — even care about us.”

As he speaks, his focus wanders, but always lands back on me. I reach for the arm that rests at his side and pull it in between us. He watches the whole time but doesn’t shrink away.

“And she would always say that the memories they had together were real, even if it didn’t turn out in the end. And I’d tell her he’s just a deadbeat and that she shouldn’t care about him.”

“Mmm.”

“And then I met you.”

I can’t help it. I smile again.

“And then I just… understood. How it’s the little moments you hold on to the most.” And he grins.

“Maybe,” I murmur, swiping my thumbs over his warm, fleshy palms, “it’s the other way around.”

He blinks. “Maybe.”

==> dreamcore, daniel.mp3

I bring his hand up to face level, examine the veins that splay out beautifully under his skin, weaving between tendons, plunging deep into the muscle and bone and fat. “Tell me one of your mom’s stories.”

It takes a moment for him to think. “It was after high school. Their last summer together. He was going into fine arts and she was going to study medicine.”

“Mmm.”

“But that night, long after the sun went down and the birds stopped singing, they were just walking around aimlessly. Nothing to do except enjoy each other’s company, I guess.”

Something shifts in his tone as he lapses into the narrator’s perspective.

“But even though they were spending time together as usual, both were thinking about how one day, very soon, they were going to move to opposite sides of the country and maybe never see each other again.”

“But they did see each other again, right?” His skin burns against mine. “They had you.”

“Well, not exactly.” His hand suddenly gains life, flexing lightly. “That’s the summer I was… conceived.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Needless to say, I’m not super close with my grandparents.” He purses his lips and now he’s looking at his fingers. “That’s an entire story on its own. Anyway. They were walking together at night, fearless to whatever was in the dark. Only their own futures.

“And while they were walking it suddenly started to rain. My mom said it came out of nowhere, like a bucket of water was poured on their heads. So they did what any other person would do.”

“Go home?”

“Run to the park.”

“Sounds like something you’d do.”

“Shush, you… They ran for the park like their lives depended on it, but they were soaked by the time they got there. So they decided to have a picnic in the pouring rain. And they stayed there until the rain stopped and the birds started singing again.”

“What happened after?”

“Well, by the time she got to that part in the story, I fell asleep.”

I huff lightly. “Finish it for me.”

After some hesitation, he speaks again. “When the birds started singing, they noticed a strange person in the trees. It appeared to be a man in a fedora.”

I crack my eyes open, not realizing they shut in the first place. “A fedora?”

“Fedoras are cool!”

The worst part is, I can imagine him wearing one.

“Stop laughing.”

“Sorry.” Without thinking, I use his hand to cover my mouth. “Continue.”

“The— the man in the — hat — approached the two. And he asked them if they’d seen his notebook anywhere. It was a sketchbook, he said, and he liked to draw birds. They said no, so he kept moving on.

“Truth is, he didn’t use it to draw birds. He liked drawing people.”

I hum.

“People were everywhere, and every one looked so different. Every mark and wrinkle was a testament to their way of life. He’d examine people’s faces for so long, he could see things that others couldn’t. He noticed things that the faces’ owners didn’t.

“He’d bring that little sketchbook everywhere, drawing every face that he saw, beautiful, ugly, short, long. And after a while of doing this, he realized that, despite all faces being slightly different, they were all the same, too. They were all strangers in his life, predictable. Every face followed a… a pattern. He couldn’t quite put it into words.”

I give his hand a small squeeze.

“One day, he went to the cafe. And of course, he brought his sketchbook with him. He sat on a barstool near the corner of the restaurant, right in front of the big window, and started sketching the people walking outside. When the waiter came up and asked what he wanted, he asked for a coffee.

“He didn’t look back up until the waiter returned, and when he looked into her face to say thank you, he noticed something strange.

“It was pretty, the most beautiful face he’d seen in his life, and he’s seen a lot of faces. It wasn’t just her face, though. It was her mannerism, her tone of voice, the way she stirred his drink a little so the grounds and sugar wouldn’t sink all the way to the bottom and the way she asked if there was anything else that she could do for him, as if the question was truly asked out of her heart and not just because she’s getting paid to… this person, at that moment, broke the pattern.”

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

When I wake up, the Cars blanket is draped over me. Music plays over the sound of the sink running, and if I listen close enough, I can hear Jean humming along. Dishes clash.

“Shit!”

I must have fallen asleep with my mouth open, because now my throat is so dry it takes an effort to swallow. Slowly, I sit up and lean forward to take a sip of (cold) tea, but it doesn’t do much for the wheeze in my lungs. Jean starts singing softly with the chorus.

“And don’t go there ‘cuz you’ll never return…”

Standing there, washing dishes like a maniac and singing. The strands of his voice, like a bobbing needle, weave between the guitar and bass, and at times it’s hard to differentiate them at all, the tangle of melody and tempo. I melt into the sound, dissipating into thin air. Almost forgetting how much harder it became to breathe.

“Then you did something wrong and you said it was great…”

I stand at a snail’s pace — not avoiding the sudden pressure in my head as I do so — and drag myself into the kitchen.

There’s a dishcloth slung over his left shoulder and his hair’s tied up with — I check my wrist — my hairtie. Seemingly careless of his crime, he nods his head slightly with the music, biting his upper lip in concentration. I wouldn’t forgive him if he didn‘t look so…

at ease. Loose?

Happy.

The sink suddenly spits water at him, drenching his already-wet sweatshirt.

“Ugh.” And now he looks up. “Oh.”

I smile as the singer reaches a high note and Jean hurriedly shuts off the tap.

“Alexa, stop. What’re you doing up?” The music cuts and he rushes to my side in an instant, cupping my shoulders as if expecting I’ll collapse. There’s a spoon in his hand and it drips on the ground. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“I was sleeping.” His top-knot sticks out and it’s just begging for me to touch it. “You have a… beautiful voice. By the way.”

He eyes the ground, reddening. “Yeah, yeah.”

Without thinking I tap his cheek. “Let’s cook,” I say. “I’m hungry.”

Jean blinks, touching the area of impact. “Cook?” He stirs again when I snatch the dishcloth from his shoulder. “Wait! No, you’re sick!” But I’m already in the kitchen.

“Oh, you… put the groceries away?”

“I’m not a barbarian. Sit down.” He tosses the spoon in the dish strainer. “Let me cook.”

“No, Mr. White.” I clear my painful throat.

“Ha, ha. Sit down, okay? Do you want me to bring a chair over?”

When he touches my shoulder I turn. “Jean, really.” But my voice is small, and it betrays me, the familiar weakness sapping at my muscles and limbs. “If I have to eat another… butt-end almond butter and cheese sandwich I’m really gonna lose it.”

==> farewell, erikson jayanto

His jaw clenches and unclenches. “Okay. Fine. But I’m helping you.”

“In that case.” I use the cloth to wipe up the water around the sink. “Chopping board. Please.”

“On it.”

“Knife?” Cloth hangs over the tap.

“Yep.”

Taking an extra deep breath in an attempt to sever the strings binding down my lungs, I joke, “don’t kill me.”

He takes the utensil in a stabbing pose. “No promises.”

I bat his arm aside, to the counter. “You know how to cut vegetables, right?”

“Yeah, I know how.”

As he rummages in the fridge to make himself useful, I rinse the rice in a definitely overqualified patterned bowl, nearly falling asleep as my hand draws lazy circles in the warm grains. I’m done in time to see him cut up a carrot — attempt to, at least. He sticks the knife in at bizarre angles and intervals, creating weird orange blocks that skid away from the board after every uneven chop.

“Jean.”

“Eh?” His voice is muffled because he’s biting his lip again. It’s painfully obvious that he’s never done this before.

“Did you peel it?”

“I told you, I’m not barbaric.”

I wrap a hand around his left hand — his chopping hand — and lift it above my head. Jean is silent as I push into the space between his body and the counter and put his arm back to lock myself in. He doesn’t budge as I lean heavily back against him. “Like this.” And I grab the backs of his warm hands like computer mice and awkwardly move them into a good position.

His every breath presses against me, chin resting on top of my head, and if I lean just right I can feel his heart race against my back.

And the heat. Maybe it’s just the sickness raising my body temperature, but it burns where we touch.

“Cut.”

He does, muscles and tendons going rigid under my grip as he puts his weight on the blade. The carrot slice rolls away and falls off the counter, but Jean catches it. “Aha.” His voice a vibration in his throat. “See that?” He brandishes it in front of me like a trophy.

“Yes, Jean, very impressive.”

We position ourselves again. Jean lets me set his hand at an angle so the tip of the knife leans down. “Try cutting. At an angle.”

He does, requiring little help from my guiding hand. The carrot slice stays on the cutting board. Amused, I twist to look up at his face.

Jean looks shocked as if I caught him doing something heinous and his skin reddens like he’s just been blasted with four hours of unadultered sunlight. His mouth becomes a smile despite it all. “Ma— uh, magical.”

It’s like this for a few seconds before I turn back to our work. “Let’s finish.”

What are you doing to me?

It turns out Jean is quite the natural; after just a few more tries he can use the knife on his own, and I’m just decoration. If you think about it, cooking is a kind of art. And Jean is good with his hands.

I stick with him, though.

“Any pots?”

“Mmm. We have one under the stove.”

“Another gift from Reiner?”

He scoffs lightly. “That was a one-time thing.”

I reach backwards for his arm and end up tapping his bicep. “Pot.”

He detaches from my back and I suddenly realize how cold the air is — it’s like a warm blanket was thrown off me. I lean against the counter. The pot of choice, a great red thing that looks like it’s never been used before, is plopped on to one of the burners and Jean immediately wraps around me again. Delirious heat.

“Thanks.”

“Now what?”

“This way.” I shuffle us over to the stove, stepping on his feet a few times, and turn the element on. “We put the rice in.”

Jean’s on it, taking the bowl and unceremoniously dumping in the rice.

“Not yet!”

He recoils. “Oh, oops.”

Shit. Knowing it’s going to hurt, I swallow anyway. “It’s okay.” I grin reassuringly, though he can’t see it. “Just need to stir.” Grateful for his presence, I search the drawers for a spatula — a nice wooden one — and hand it to Jean.

“Me?”

“Think you can do it?”

He takes it, grasping the pot handle, and pushes the rice around the pot. “Like this?” he asks, not noticing the jab. Just dripping with innocence. I feel bad.

“Perfect.”

“How long?”

“Until you feel like it’s done.”

His chest undergoes a sudden compression as he huffs and I realize just how much I’m leaning on him. “And how do I know that?”

I shrug.

So Jean stirs.

“Hm?” he says when I nudge him after a while.

“Add the broth now. And carrots.”

He hums. We turn in tandem so he can fetch the former from the fridge and I watch as he pours it slowly.

“That’s enough.”

As Jean inhales deeply his beard scratches my cheek; he’s bringing his head down to my level. I turn to meet his gaze and smile. “What?”

His eyes flutter to my chin and back.

“You want something?”

He doesn’t stop boring into me, swirling something deep in my gut like a witch’s brew. “I dunno.”

“I do.” I tilt my head up at the slightest angle to afford him a better view and his eyes widen. “You want the carrots. In the pot.”

There’s a little tic in his expression. Like he wants to engulf me, pull me deep into himself. But he just breathes, “right.” And dumps the carrots.

Stirring…

“Are you tired?”

“No.” I clear my throat again and it takes a while for the phlegm to go away fully. My feet shuffle back in an attempt to support myself, to no avail. “Bought chicken?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s tear some of it.”

==> october, adrián berenguer

The spatula clicks against the stovetop as Jean puts it down. “Wait.” I turn to meet him, backing against the hard edge of the counter, and the world turns to mush before I gather my bearings. “Wait,” he repeats, softer, putting his hands down on either side of me, locking me in place. “I need to say something.”

“Jean?” Skin turning cold where we once touched. Knees loose. Breath heavy and laboured. I latch onto his gaze and stay there. He is quicksand, sucking me in deeper with no bottom in sight, and I’m powerless to it, to the shifting grains and the lashing wind, the indefinite maelstrom of everything built up and unsaid. Until he says it, and the storm stills.

“What… are we?”

My breath is loud; every one another closer to the answer. The witch’s brew is long since tipped over, seeping its uneasy juices into my bones and muscles and tendons, rendering me feeble and invertebrate.

What are we?

“What do you want… us to be?”

A heartbeat of pause. His voice is soft but confident and takes over my every sense, light filtering into dark, soup into ice, pain into numbness. “More than this. More than what we had before.”

My hands gravitate to cover Jean’s and brush up to rub his forearms, right before the wrists, and I can see the terror that he holds, the possibility of abandonment that he keeps framed up and hung away in a little corner of his mind.

“Like now?”

His eyelids shut, separating us for a few seconds before he opens them again. “No.” And he lowers to my height. “Not like this. I dont— I don’t want any more second-guessing. No more in-betweens. I just— I need to know if we’re together or if we’re just…” He does that thing with his lip again. “I can’t do it anymore. Wondering how close I should be walking beside you, if I should offer you my chair or share it, if— if you’ll ever think of me the same way I think of you.” Despite swallowing, his voice wavers still. “I really think highly of you. I mean, I just— I— sometimes.” The last word is uttered with a small sigh as if he’s accepting defeat.

“Sometimes I feel like you’ve taken me over completely. It sounds stupid, I know, I… When we’re all together, I’m always… thinking about you. If you’ll like this thing. What I should say to make you laugh. God, I love your laugh. There’s just something… about… you… that makes me want to be by your side, and when I’m not, it doesn’t feel right, I didn’t know what right felt like until I met you. When I— I… looking at you just makes me really, really happy, and I’ve never really felt like this before. Never felt so ready to do anything, absolutely anything for a person.” He inhales deeply. “I’m— it’s hard for me to describe how I feel, but in the end I just know.

“I’m in love— I’m in love with you, the way you walk, your voice, the way you’re always looking around, everything that you think is a flaw and… I don’t want to play this game of in-between anymore because this, not knowing how you feel, is killing me. If you— you don’t have to say yes. I just need to know. What are we?”

What are we?

The frame is broken, fallen off its hook, glass shattering on impact as the wooden body collapses and snaps in on itself. Cutting countless tiny holes torn into the fabric guise of courage. Hands trembling against my sides.

The answer I want to give him is there, a vibrating and incomprehensible bundle of warmth and devotion and tenderness that is utterly unattainable behind the metal barrier of the spoken word, as much as it beats and bores into the confines of its enclosure. How much longer?

They say that eyes are the windows to the soul. It’s more like a well. Dark, deep, secretive of what lies inside behind its deceptive beautiful adornments.

But if I let myself go, if I allow myself to hang over the stone ledge and slip in to see for myself, despite the fear of hitting the cold, lonely bottom…

My hand cups his cheek and he tilts his head, leaning into it.

“Jean.”

He says my name back, just as tender, twice as fearful, and the unfamiliar frequency twinges a string in my consciousness. I open my mouth.

“How you managed to fall for me is… it’s beyond me. You’re smart, you’re strong, you’re talented… To me, you’re about as attainable as a star.”

He shakes his head tightly but I continue as he inhales to speak, hints of his voice catching the air through his throat.

“You might not think so but you’re… whenever I’m with you I just feel like everything is going to be okay in the end.” My chest burns and my voice falters. “You make me feel safe. When I imagine our future together, I’m— we’re always happy.”

If I wasn’t touching him I would never notice the small nod of gentle encouragement he gives, so much hope piled onto such a tiny movement.

“And it’s been eating away at me, because every time we look at each other I have to wonder— I have to stop and ask myself if you really like me back too.”

His eyes widen. My pulse races through my body; he can probably feel it through my hand. The truth, that’s all it is, comes pouring out unrestricted, a torrent of words tearing through my soul.

“What are we? That’s a silly question. We spend time with each other and care for each other. We share our food and our beds. You passed an important test last month and I brought everyone over with cake to celebrate, and you know my schedule so you always come to the cafe when I’m working.” I puff in amusement. “And it’s when I least expect it, too. We share so many playlists it isn’t even funny anymore, because you influenced my taste in music so much.”

“You’re the one who influenced me,” he says with a small smile.

“Frankly, I’m in love with you, and— and you’re in love with me.” I sway on my feet and put my other hand to his face to steady myself. “We know that now. We know that, so isn’t that enough? We’re two people in love, who act like they’re in love, who know they’re in love… Has anything really changed?” My peripheries go blurry. “Can’t we figure it out from here? No labels?”

“No labels.” A smile is cracking his face, skin pulling beneath my palms as his eyes crinkle, shattering the restrictive veil he wears and painstakingly paints on every morning. “We’re us. You’re right. Nothing’s changed at all. Just two people in love.” His grin widens. “Just… us.”

I smile too, I smile until my face hurts and I start giggling, but Jean is right there with me, unable to help the laughter that rings around his ribcage with a melody that is uniquely his. I let my head drop and he closes the distance between us, pulling me deep into himself, and it’s like an invisible film wrapped around me has been popped for the first time. We’re hugging for the first time. We’re touching for the first time. Unrestricted. Without fear.

Two people in love.

My laughs soon turn into coughs and the illusion is broken. Jean steps back, still pinning me against the counter.

“You want more tea?”

I scan the kitchen. “I don’t suppose Reiner got you guys a microwave?”

“I’ll make more.”

“But—”

“No buts. You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I say before the clamouring in my mind.

“Go lie down. I’ll finish up here.”

I turn my head up and a string in my neck suddenly starts to burn, halting the action. Stiff neck. I look down at his socks.

“You sure?”

His hands enter the picture and take mine. “Let’s get you to bed, okay? Granny?”

“You know what? Just take me to the gym.”

He hisses through his teeth. “Okay, I get your point. I’m sorry.”

Pot bubbling away in the background, we make it to the bedroom. I roll onto Jean’s criminally soft covers and he drapes the quilt over me, trapping me in my own heat.

“Go to sleep, okay?” His voice is a soft rumble, sandpaper fleece.

“Okay, father.”

“I don’t want to see the lights on when I walk by,” he adds, sternly.

“Or what?”

His dark form pauses, then leans down against my ear. “Sleep.” And he plants his lips against my hot cheek before withdrawing.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

me: @/chismosa

me: sash

me: wya

chismosa: im at the store

me: ??? i thought we were meeting at urs?

chismosa: change of plans! eren said jean came in whilw he was working soo

chismosa: just wait there. shave ur head or sth

chismosa: dont use my razor tho

me: .

me: ur lucky my phones abt to die or i woukd call nd cuss u out

me: im just gonna go back to mine

chismosa: wait

chismosa: cons

me: phobe dying

chismosa: CONNIE NO

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

When the spoon clinks against the bowl my head nearly splits open. My mouth is dry because my nostrils are plugged and everything inside me feels warm and centrifuged. I try to breathe in through my nose, fail, and end up coughing instead.

“Oh—” Jean drops his book— “are you awake?”

“It got worse,” I croak.

He smiles wryly. “Yeah. It’s pretty bad.” The sketchbook on the ground skids under the bed when he kicks it as he stands. “You hungry? Thirsty? Hot?”

I shut my eyes, not daring to move. “Just want to sleep.”

“You should eat something.”

“I don’t wanna puke.”

“You won’t puke.”

“You did.”

“That’s my own fault and you know it.” He reaches for something on the nightstand and produces a bowl. “You should at least try it. Please?” With the disposition of a kid trying to show off a cool drawing that he made.

“You finished making it?” I start to lift my head but Jean lunges forward.

“Wait! Let me.” He reaches over my lap for the pillows on the other side and works on propping them up against my back, chest against my face. Maybe I’ll pass out again.

“Jean?”

“Hm?” He returns to his original position, cradling my back. “Lean back now.”

I do and it’s just like yesterday, except our positions are switched. “Your hair is so pretty.”

“Oh.” A wavering smile takes over him. “Really?”

==> parfum d’etoiles, ichiko aoba

He leans in when I beckon and lets me brush away the silky-soft strands that fall onto his face, gently pressing them back into the main mass of his hair with the backs of my fingernails. His hair. How long have I dreamed of doing this? Seeing the way it catches the sunlight to flare a molten gold during sluggish fall afternoons at my dorm, how the wind picks up strand after delicate strand as we walk through campus on the way back from the cafe, the way it always sticks to the back of his shirt when he turns his head. Something as unreachable as the reciprocation of my love. And yet… “So beautiful.”

He dips his head a little so I focus on his mini-ponytail—

“Ponytail,” I muse out loud, grinning. “Horseface and ponytail.”

At this he looks up indignantly, undoing all my work. Betrayal weighing on his brow. “You did not.”

“Oh—” my finger, entranced and with a mind of its own, traces his hairline, “—but I did.”

He scoffs as if it’s the only thing he can do and turns his head to the side, not hiding the heat that shows and radiates from his face as I stroke the strands over his ear. He eases down onto his elbows on either side of my body and he plays with his hands on my stomach. My thumb never leaves his skin, tracing his delicately shaved beard from the curve of his jaw down to his chin, and I use this position to pull his face toward me. Feeling his pulse, feeling the way the soft skin under his jaw moves as he swallows, inhales, opens his mouth with a small wet sound and speaks right into me.

“You’re beautiful.”

I want to cry.

Despite feeling like death, despite the mouthbreathing, despite the greasiness of my hair…

Jean’s gaze is unveiled, blazing with all the fondness and revere previously hidden and locked away, an unsurmountable number of words press-printed and bleeding onto millions upon millions of honeyed pages but never bound, never shut away from the sunlight and the sky and the polished wood shelves, blowing, scattering in the wind. I just might wither away under it all if I wasn’t looking back at him with just the same intensity. Locked in a silent competition neither of us will ever win.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

“Jean,” I say ever so lightly, only forming the shape of his name of his tongue as I exhale.

He blinks a few times and the mattress tilts as he reaches under the frame and pulls up his sketchbook, settling on the edge of the bed. It’s about the size and shape of a placemat, bound in black leather with a stiff metal coil binding it together. He flips through the heavy cream pages with experienced ease, squishing the flesh of the hand that holds it open. I can stare at his hands all day. The hairs that sprout near the wrists, the thick, sturdy fingers, the laced veins that bulge when he brings them down to his side but are always, always visible, the way the skin folds and creases at the joints, the white-hot tendons that decorate his knuckles and poke up when he flexes, the soft and jagged way he cuts the white of his fingernails, the warmth, the padding of his palms. The power that lies dormant in his muscles under every gentle movement. I want them forever to hold and cherish and cuddle. Among other things.

He finally finds the page he’s looking for and he folds the sketchbook in on itself on its metal hinge to flatten it. He taps his fingers against the back, a soft pitter-patter like rain.

“Are you going to show me?”

Face contorting slightly, he says, “it’s not finished.”

“So?”

“It doesn’t… exude you.”

I smile. “Exude?” But he’s lost in his mind, lost in the lines interwoven in shapes and shadow on the page that are supposed to constitute a greater picture.

“Qu’est-ce que…” he mutters, not to me, not to anyone. Without looking he picks up a pencil from the nightstand and lays a few more strokes onto the paper. The graphite scratches the bumpy composite, seemingly at random at first, but Jean’s movements soon fall into a rhythm. Every once in a while his eyes flicker from the page to me and I meet him every time.

I don’t know how long we sit here, soaking in the comfortable silence, but he eventually breaks the illusion by leaning back and swiping the eraser crumbs off. “I don’t like it,” he says with a note of finality.

I’m almost asleep. “Mm— show me.”

“No…”

His face disappears behind my hand, which makes a pinching motion. “Jeaaan.”

He sighs; reluctantly, he offers the whole book to me and stares through the window (curtains still drawn). I flip it over to see and—

I blink away the gunk that doesn’t exist and hold the page back so it catches the dim light from the hallway better. “Did you just do this?”

It’s… me. It’s me in his bed, hair splayed, eyes half-lidded yet still staring through the page, features lit from on one side and bleeding into the shadowy graphite at the other. Pinned up and immortalized in this very moment by his own hands, every stroke with a purpose.

“I know, the composition is off and the lines aren’t harmonizing.”

“Harmonizing? Jean, this is beautiful.”

“Hah?” He clambers to the empty spot beside me so we can both look. “No, look, I messed up right…” he points with the worn-down eraser end of his pencil. “There. And there, and—”

I swat it away. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Don’t you realize how good this looks? I mean—” holding the portrait up next to my own face, I smile. “See?”

“Not the same,” he groans. “Everything’s—”

I stick the side of my finger against his teeth and he recoils into the pillow. “What!” He pries me off, gripping my forearm with virtually no pressure. “What was that for?”

“Whatever you think, I love it.” I clear my throat. “Thank you so much, Jean. I mean it.”

He pauses. “Well, I’m— I’m glad you like it. Expect more.”

“More?”

His eyelids flutter; hesitantly, he takes some of my hair and twirls it in his finger. “I can’t help myself.”

Some of the heat in my core rises to my face, but it’s okay, so I don’t bother turning away.

“One day I’ll get good enough to draw you for real.”

Draw me for real? As far as I’m concerned, he’s always drawing me, conjuring up a little image of me in his mind every time my name is brought up. That’s enough. That’s more than enough.

“Are you ready for soup now?”

“I’m tired. I don’t wanna move.”

“When did I say you have to move?”

It’s easy for him with his stupidly long limbs to climb over me and stand again. He takes the bowl on the nightstand and hooks his chair with his foot, dragging it forward before sitting. “It’s still a bit warm, okay?” he says, stirring the mixture.

“That looks good.”

He looks up briefly to smile. “Thanks. I found a recipe online.”

“You should get into cooking.”

He shrugs and holds up the spoon, bowl close underneath to prevent spillage. “Aah.”

I take it. The metal clicks uncomfortably against my teeth but the food is warm and good. “This is good,” I declare when my mouth is empty. “Do you really not cook that often?”

“Nope. Aah.”

I chew and swallow. “When do I get my pill?”

Jean looks like he’s choking for a second. “Uh— what, do you want it right now?”

“Sooner the better, I guess.”

He blinks, then takes the package of ibuprofen from the nightstand and unwraps a pill, puts the box away, and pinches it in his hand like it’s a precious stone. “Are you sure?”

I raise an eyebrow and hold my hand out. He stares at it, dumbfounded.

“What’s that for?”

“The pill?”

His mouth opens and closes. “Oh.” He gently places the pill onto my waiting palm. “Right.”

“What were you thinking?”

He licks his lips. “Nothing.”

I pop it dry and it hits the back of my throat before disappearing forever. Jean cringes. He’s staring at the ground, knees pushed together to hold the bowl, slightly too big for the chair he’s sitting on.

“Jean.”

“Yeah?” He perks up.

“If you want to kiss me, you can.”

He tenses around the bowl. “No! That’s…” A weak chuckle rolls in his torso. “Uh. Good to— good to know.”

I smile as silence falls between us again and the room teems with potential. He feeds me in silence, gentler with the spoon this time, pushing it against my soft bottom lip and inserting just the right amount not to hit my throat, tilting it up during the exit so my upper lip rides the gentle curve of the metal and scrapes out the meal. Everything with a calculated and smooth movement, as if feeding me is an art.

He really is good with his hands.

Now he has a tissue and holds it up as if asking for permission. I nod; he leans in to wipe some off my face, a soft furrow in his brow, biting his lip. Starting at the corner, pressing into the supple skin and making his way inward, he easily catches the mess, folds the tissue, and does the other side. He finishes off with a small dab and crumples the it, obscuring it completely in his fist. Not moving back.

“Can I have some tea?”

==> i was only temporary 2 u, my head is empty

Silently, he stretches to take a mug off the nightstand, and just like before, pushes the rim against my lip. I tilt back and drink; it’s sweet, almost head-swimmingly so, and liquid smooth.

“Mmh.”

He puts the mug down and one-handedly stashes it back to its spot. Some of the drink had dribbled from the corner of my mouth to my chin and drips onto the sheet, forming a small, dark blotch on the white. When I glance back up, so does Jean, and we lock eyes.

Unreadable.

I don’t notice him get closer until he’s on me, trapping me against the headboard, tracing the path of the tea to the corner of my lips with his own. Not satisfied, he brushes against the other side of my lip and the tip of my nose before stopping at eye level. Taking in a breath before ever so slowly inching forward, sealing off my air. My eyes slip closed.

It’s different this time. He’s hesitant, waiting for me to make the move, so I do, tracing the crescent of his warm, plump lip with my tongue — god, how long have I wanted this? How long have his lips stared back at me? — in an attempt to crack him open, without pattern but with hidden rhythm, just like his pencil. He tastes like overly sweet tea.

His fingers caress my jaw and tangle into my hair as mine do the same, tracing the scrub of his beard, pulling out the hairtie and tossing it before taking the impossibly silken strands in greedy fistfuls, making my blood go loose and coat my guts in something inexplicable that almost makes me lose my focus. The air from his nose tickles my skin and finally he gives, breaking the dam, exploring the surfaces I have to offer as if mapping it out for later with a painful, cautious leisure. Never stopping, always movement: the bristles of his chin occasionally scraping against mine; his hands languidly falling down my neck, pushing me back against the pillows; mine, seizing his collar, pulling as a desperate indication to remove it and to come closer; the dip of the bed as he obliges to the latter, knees locking me in place. As if I would move, despite my racing pulse, despite my heart threatening to slip out of its bony confines and tear my burning lungs—

==> might start singing - sped up, sheldon charlot

The metallic sound of a key grating into the keyhole. Like deer in the headlights we freeze as the key turns, the lock disengages, and the front door swings open.

Jean looks like someone just shot at him; blindly, I swat at the thick muscle between his neck and shoulder until he awkwardly rolls off, ramming into the nightstand with his head in the process. The bowl and mug and clock rattle, nearly drowning out his pained grunt. He lands sitting on the ground and I sit up ramrod straight.

“Jean? That you?”

We peer at each other through the dark, thoughts unspoken, yet still understood. My pulse is on overdrive, for a different reason now.

Connie!

His footsteps get louder as he stomps down the hall; I pull the blanket up (to cover what, exactly?) as Jean shoots onto his feet — slamming his shoulder against the nightstand again — just as his roommate’s shadow fills the doorway to Jean’s room.

“Ugh, you’re gonna kill your eyes, man.” A blinding light pierces as Connie flips a switch. “Can I borrow your charger? I left mine— I left…”

When my eyes adjust, Connie’s staring into me under Jean’s arm. He looks between the two of us as the pieces fall together in his head like a game of jelly Tetris and it’s evident when he figures it out, when all the rows are cleared and the trumpets blare and the screen flashes with confetti, when a grin that’s all too Connie takes over his face. “Oh. You guys have been real naughty while I was gone, huh?”

I start to speak but Jean’s faster. “What are you on about? I was just giving her food.”

Connie raises an eyebrow, skeptical. At the obviously empty bowl, the ruffled covers, our heaving chests and wrinkled clothes, Jean’s hair which is uncharacteristically roughed up and messy and falling all over his eyes. “Yeah.” He smirks at me. “Food.”

Jean swallows.

“Connie,” I say slowly as the last taste of Jean slips away, “you won’t tell Sasha, right?”

“I dunno.” All too gleeful, he leans against the wall, tapping it as if waiting for something. “Will I?”

“You can use Jean’s car for a week if you don’t.”

Said person twitches. “Huh!?”

No stranger to the bargain, Connie narrows his eyes. “A month.”

“Two weeks or no deal.”

“Fine, but I get to decide which days.”

“Wait, when did I—”

“Deal,” I say, cutting Jean off. I shoot him an apologetic look as Connie caws in victory.

“Hell yeah! Suck it!” He points at the owner of said car. “She’s all mine now, Jeanboy!” Then he points at me. “I love you and my lips are sealed forever, okay? This is our little secret. Woo!” He skips down the hallway and picks something up with a jingle before the door opens and shuts and all is quiet.

At a sloth’s pace, Jean reaches for his pants pocket. “My keys aren’t here.”

“I’m sorry, Jean.”

He slumps, leans his butt against the bed, and turns to me like a war widow, voice barely a whisper. “It had to be done.”

“Your car will be fine.” I try to undo some of the damage thoughtlessly wrought upon his hair, smoothing it out. “It’s only two weeks.”

“Knowing Connie, he’s going to spread it out over two years,” he sighs, staring at the wall. “You know he likes to eat in it, right?”

Saying nothing, I keep stroking his hair, tracing my his scalp with my fingertips, and he leans in to my shoulder.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

“Connie?” Sasha says when he pulls up outside the store, hiding her fingers from the bitingly cold air by shoving them in her coat pockets. “What are you doing here?”

“More importantly, what’s he doing in Jean’s car?” Eren adds, in the process of pulling up his hair into a bun. “Did you kill him, Connie?”

“I struck a bargain,” Connie says smugly. “You guys want a ride, or what?”

Sasha blinks. “You saw them together and they agreed to let you use Jean’s car as long as you kept quiet about it.”

“Nuh-uh!” the driver bursts as Eren nods.

“Adds up.”

Connie’s grip around the wheel tightens. He won’t— he can’t let his dream ride slip from his hands so quickly. “Sasha, no! I just let him use— I mean, he let me use his car if I did all his laundry for a month.”

“Really?” his best friend muses.

Frantic, he nods.

She scowls. “Don’t give me that crap, Constance Springer.” Trace puffs of steam appear at her rapid spew of words. “You don’t even know how to do laundry.”

“I do so! I Youtubed it!”

“Bullshit.”

“Woman, nuh uh!”

“Can I go now?” Eren drawls, almost immediately drowned out by their combined bickering. He sighs, putting the finishing touches on his bun, and traces the leafy skyline.

So they really did get together. He didn’t think Jean had it in him. Casually, he taps his pocket, the bunched-up lanyard underneath.

Sasha had grilled him constantly though the store as he did his rounds, even following him to the employee-only area. Hell, she stood outside the bathroom waiting for him when he tried to hide for his break. There was just no escaping her.

“What did he buy?”

“Like, soup stuff.”

“What’s the first thing he said?”

“My name?”

“Did he mention her?”

“No.”

“Do you have a receipt?”

“No.”

And so on and so forth. She asked for Jean’s grocery haul maybe a hundred times, and he answered every time with the same mind-numbing ingredient list. Every. Single. Time.

A small smile lights his face. He didn’t tell her everything, though.

As much as he wanted to mention Jean’s embarrassingly poor attempt to hide the box with his body from Eren’s prying eyes at the checkout, he thought better of it, because then she’d really go off the hook. That, and he wants Jean to owe him. He covers his mouth before the others notice his growing smile at the memory replaying in his mind. Condoms? Really? Does Jean not trust Connie enough to use some of his? More importantly, does he really think he’ll be using them? Truly?

Eager beaver.

“Don’t tell them, okay?” Connie says, already defeated. “Or else they’ll take this car away…”

“Don’t you realize, Connie? It doesn’t matter who I tell because soon enough they’ll be walking around in public holding hands and all that. So your leverage is basically null.”

He stares forlornly at the little Sanrio charm hanging from the rearview mirror. “When did you get so good at this?”

“That’s just common sense.”

Sighing, he rests his forehead on the steering wheel. “Well,” he says without looking up, “you guys wanna go for a long drive?”

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

writing confession scenes kill me in every physical metaphorical and metaphysical way you can imagine. thats some psychic damage right there. despite that, i love writing

seems we cant escape the inevitable kiss scene! i tried to switch it up this time. not a huge fan of recurring plot and all but i think in circles sometimes. like a dying fruit fly

about that epilogue -- i dont think i'll be employing those for a while. or maybe i will. who knows?

masterlist part 1 - two ibuprofen

[lgbt-cishet-movie-tournament]

The loser is either too queer to be a cishet movie or too cishet to be queer...

How is it cishet media?

BatB: i suggest Beauty and the Beast (1991). It's cishet bc well disney movie, no canon queer characters, story centers around straight romance (lefou does NOT count the 2017 remake is pure horseshite.)

Megamind: cishet romance at the center of the story

How is it lgbt?

BatB: Well theres obviously a lot of subtext going on, most of it intentional probably bc of for example Howard Ashman's creative involvement. That is all well known so im not going into detail about that u probably already know this but if not well just google him. Anyway the themes are very queer coded/resonate with a lot of queer audience members. You've got the main characters feeling isolated from society bc theyre "different", a love story that goes against societal norms, with the Beast you have that feeling of shame that drives you to isolate yourself and makes you feel unworthy of love. You could also interpret the whole beast transformation stuff as trans coded (arguably a bit of a reach but im trans and i like monsters so im going to do that anyway. Big kin prince adam aka the beast.) Also Gaston is camp. Lumiere and cogsworth are also camp. Plus the soundtrack was composed by two famous and accomplished broadway composers and features multiple broadway singers. I fucking love beauty and the beast can you tell

Megamind: the story becomes like 100x better if you imagine megamind as a butch bisexual woman, and roxanne's falling for him as realizing/accepting that she's a lesbian. also the flamboyant goth latex and leather.

[bingoboingobongo]

task force 141 + christmas songs

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John "Soap" MacTavish, John Price, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

Type: Fluff, headcanons

Warnings: explicit language

A/N: the order is kinda whack i wrote these as i thought of them. also i have two tests tmmrw halp

ghost:

yes ghost's favorite christmas song is last christmas by wham! it's been confirmed

i mean can you blame him?

to ghost, it's everything he loves about music mixed with a christmas song he can relate to (sort of)

he likes the sort of mellow but still peppy nature of the song (especially compared to artists like mariah carey who he thinks is too peppy and michael buble who he thinks is too mellow)

it's the sorta song you can absent-mindedly sing to while you're working which he enjoys

plus the drums and the cymbals (?) really get him in the festive mood

whenever he listens to it he'll tap his foot/nod to the rhythm or lipsync under the mask (another benefit of keeping his face covered)

ofc your chances of seeing him do this in front of the team are slim to none

but when he's alone (either with you or just in his room or smthing) he'll pull out a little shimmy when the song starts getting good

he also likes the sort of sad undertone to the lyrics

he feels like it adds depth and makes it relatable

kyle "gaz" garrick:

alright hear me out on this one because i actually really love this hc

so first, i can totally see gaz being a fan of tyler, the creator when he was younger, but then being less invested as he grew up

but he went to see the grinch (2018) in theaters on christmas day with his family and that was when he first heard the song

off topic but i also hc that gaz has a younger sister and brother

and they're like considerably younger, like they're children

idk what his canon family situation is like but idc bc this is what's canon now bc i said so

so yeah that's why they went to watch the movie

and i mean what's not to love about this song

he really likes the rap/hip hop twist on a classic christmas song

and let's be real the whole soundtrack slaps like gaz was definitely listening to it on repeat for the entire holiday season that year

when gaz hears this song he definitely starts grooving, clapping, singing along

i mean it's not like he has a choice the song is actually so good i love it so much

like he's just so in love with the way tyler, the creator was able to reinvent an old song and give it such a good beat and like completely change up the cadence but still make it sound good

and yes he lives for the ending scream

rodolfo "rudy" parra:

guys i mean this is just fact atp

and don't say that this isn't a christmas song because that is rudy's biggest pet peeve and he will fight you about it

because according to him it came out during the holiday season and it's a movie with amazing visuals of snow and winter and the main character literally has ice powers so therefore it's a winter movie

sometimes the rest of the team will try and come up with other movie soundtracks that would therefore qualify as christmas music according to his standards

this always pisses rudy off and he'll insist it's different

i think the best part is that rudy watched frozen 2 by himself

i mean he was a big fan of frozen he wanted to see the sequel can u blame him

in his opinion the plot was a little weaker than the first but the soundtrack gave the original a serious run for it's money

and of course before this came out his favorite christmas song was let it go (and yes he also got mad when people said it wasn't a christmas song)

he likes the panic! at the disco version over the idina menzel version because he says it makes him feel more seen

nobody really knows what he means by that

you guys just assume it's because it's a male singer

rudy will also sing this song out loud any chance he gets

he's a decent singer don't get me wrong but that song's got some high notes rudy just can't hit

he swears that one time he was able to hit every single one but he was alone when it happened

usually though he can hit a solid majority (and he always geeks out when he does)

and yes, he will insist on watching frozen and frozen 2 during the holiday season and yes he will sing during every song

john "soap" mactavish:

honestly same, soap, same

soap's a firm believer that not only is this song the best christmas song out there, it should be the face of christmas instead of mariah carey's all i want for christmas is you

people have tried pointing out that all i want for christmas is you isn't necessarily the face of christmas but he insists it is and insists that title is undeserved

he says he hates it because it's overplayed but everyone else is 99% sure there's something more

your theory is that one of his exes really liked all i want for christmas is you and then it ruined the song for him

but now onto sleigh ride

soap believes it's the epitome of everything christmas

it's festive, it's peppy, it's got great vocals

he really likes the instrumentals and it's honestly his favorite part

the snaps, the piano, the flute/whistling, the trumpets (?)

whatever it is he's in love and he thinks that it really just sells the cheeriness of christmas

he also lives for the 'ring-a-ling-a-ling-a-ding-dong-dings"

he will sing those out loud all day any day

he also tries to do mariah carey's whistle notes every time and not once has he ever gotten it

beyond that he also just sucks at singing

but honestly he just seems so happy singing that it sorta cancels out the way he's making everyone's ears bleed

he also does a little head wiggle and shimmy combo to dance to this song

and he does that little like dance and point at the parts of the song right before the beat "drops"

john price

alright so the first time he listened to this song was after christmas one year when his nephew said he wasn't cool

so he figured this song would make him cool

the efficacy of that tactic is still being debated

i mean don't get me wrong pentatonix fucking slaps

but also the acapella version of anything is not a very orthodox way of making yourself cool

needless to say his nephew was not impressed when the next christmas came around

price doesn't care though because he actually fell in love with the song after listening to it for so long

he's very much in awe of the way all their voices can come together and make it sound there's actually instruments and stuff

like he will rave about it for so long whenever the song comes on

whenever it plays he sings along but he doesn't try and beat box

that's bc one time he did that in front of gaz and laswell and gaz had to leave the room while laswell stared at him in shock

it's been his secret life mission to get insanely good at beatboxing and then show them someday ever since then

progress is not going well

also you can bet he has this song memorized to the tee

and yes he'll chastise people if they put the wrong gift to the wrong day

unlike his beatboxing, price's singing is actually pretty good so at least it gives the team something nice to listen to

alejandro vargas:

ok i feel like at first his favorite song was baby it's cold outside by idina menzel and michael buble

and then rudy pointed out the creepy undertones and it ruined the song for him

also he was distraught when he found out

and then this song took over as number one in his heart

for starters, he's just a massive fan of michael buble

also he once got front row tickets to a michael buble concert but he couldn't go last minute because he got called on a mission and he's still salty about it

he likes the way michael buble rewrote the lyrics to be more fitting for guys

also he likes the sorta relaxed almost lazy rhythm of the song

he insists it makes it sexier

nobody knows what that means or why it matters but he's very persistent about it

and god damn alejandro's singing voice is actually good fr

like it gives michael buble but if michael buble was a smoker and did country songs

but honestly the gravel in alejandro's voice works really well when he's singing

and lord knows he sings this song whenever it comes on

it's not obnoxious tho so it's nice to listen to

he doesn't really dance but he'll jokingly offer you a slow dance to this song

he considers this the classiest christmas songs and says it's only for people with real taste in music

[lurkingshan]

BL/QL Ask game : The Ugly, the Bad and the Worst

Tagged by @clara-maybe-ontheroad to start some trouble. There are a lot of these, so I'm mostly going to do quick hits and maybe expand on a few that really get me going.

The categories are:

Worst soundtrack / weirdest song choice in a BL

It would be easier to list the BL soundtracks that are not horrible (offense intended).

Most cringe-inducing line (cute)/Most cringe-inducing line (actually bad)

I'm so bad at remembering specific lines of dialogue unless I think they're beautiful/heart-wrenching, so I got nothing.

Most stupid decision made by a character

In a BL?? Baby, I do not have all day.

Worst plot line

Hmmm I'm gonna give in to recency bias and say faking amnesia to get your fiancé to love you again after you iced him out and denied him sex for four years because of your tiger attack-related PTSD (no I am not making that up, never change actually Naughty Babe).

The most problematic show you've watched

Problematic is in the eye of the beholder, so honestly who can say.

A show people love but you find bad

LOLOLOL. There are. So many. Probably the one with the wildest fandom fervor :: Shan personal enjoyment ratio is KinnPorsche.

A show people find bad but you will defend

Theory of Love and y'all stay wrong about this. It is easily one of the best early Thai bls and the writing, character development, and narrative structure are all excellent, but people hate slutty characters so they can't deal with it.

A show that is just objectively bad but you enjoyed it/were horny/because of that one character

Why r u? What can I say, I'm a Fighter/Tutor girlie.

A bad show that you kept watching because you were intrigued/fascinated

Hmmm I usually just drop it if I'm truly not having fun. I guess you could count me finishing Minato's Laundromat 2 despite knowing any hope for it was over at the end of episode 9. I just needed to see how mad I was going to be in the end (pretty damn mad).

A bad show that you would still recommend

There is too much BL nowadays to be trifling with the bad shit.

The character that ruined a show the most/most awful character that you hated

PLERN PLENG (Together With Me). cc: @bengiyo the co-president of the Plern Pleng antis.

Most awful character that you loved

Boston, a beautiful chaos demon (Only Friends).

A character that wasn't awful but that you just don't like

Anyone played by Podd or Jimmy (it's their faces I can't stand them sorry to those men).

A hero that should have been a villain

This is an interesting one! I’m not sure this counts, but I’ll just say I did not love the way The Untamed white washed Wei Wuxian and removed his culpability for all his worst choices (I recognize this was largely due to censorship). I much prefer the more morally complex and deeply flawed version of him we got in MDZS.

A morally bad character you're into/you're not into and you wish people would stop being into

I don't believe in holding fictional characters to real life moral standards. Bad behavior makes for good stories.

The show that disappointed you the most

Let me take this opportunity to drag Plus & Minus again, a show that had all the right ingredients to be a top tier friends to lovers narrative and absolutely blew it to do some beyond clichéd noble idiocy and breakup bs that violated character and undercut the relationship to such a degree that I can never rewatch or enjoy anything about it again.

The Worst Show of Them All Because of Your Own Reasons

Hmm I do not have one. It's rare for me to not be able to find something of value in any media I consume.

Tagging @chickenstrangers @sorry-bonebag @kayatoasted @blmpff @twig-tea in case you want to play!

[iheartcake123]

first of all, hope you are having a great day!

i just finished watching season 3 and idk season1 will be always superior and the soundtrack was INSANE but i still enjoyed season 3, those type of series are always my favorite

anywayss, if you have time is it possible to request about chanyeong or eunhyeok?

haven't see fics about them especially about chanyeong, if its not possible then thats totally ok!

thank u

hello, im having a really good day thanks :) i hope you’re having a great day too!

honestly i agree something about season 1 just tops the all the other seasons, plus we got some really iconic characters and backstory in season 1 which was really interesting to watch!!

of course i can do one for either chan-young or eun-hyeok :) do you want anything specific? it really helps and makes writing a bit easier if i have a starting point <3 it doesn’t have to be something too long but a little info even if it’s just that you would like some angst is really helpful. so, if you see this please let me know :)

[nokaru]

ooh 5, 8 and 31 for the ask game? theres a right answer for the last one /j

cheers and thank you imma drop a ball with this one <3

5. Character with the best design

I can't choose just one so imma do boys and girls categories

Girlies: Super torn between Shirayuki and Kageya. Everything about Shirayuki is straight up gorgeous and I absolutely LOVE all her outfits and hairstyles, esp the harem pants Sensei started drawing her in + I think her earrings are an amazing addition. Okay, so Kageya. There is just smt about Kageya's subtle beauty, is it the hair? maybe. The soft yet sussy look? probably. She just sticks out to me for some reason.

Babygirls Boys: Obi takes the cake cause he is just my fav type of anime guy. Dark hair, cat eyes and stylish. His color pallete is very nice too! Honorary mentions: Zen and Hisame. Zen is so eye catching and you can really tell he IS the Prince. And Hisame looks like noble-fied Obi. 10/10 smash.

8. Character that is most like you

Girl, when I tell you I've been thinking about this the WHOLE DAY and still didn't have a proper answer....sheesh. I came to a conclusion that maybe I'm like Obi? Not in an edgy way but in i-dont-understand-my-feelings-and-emotions-but-i-know-i-love-these-people orsmtlikethatidontfuckingknow I would also say I'm pretty funny?? and I would rather joke than discuss my emotions? I like to keep pretty tightknit group of friends, just vibe and go with the flow (my corpse in the river mentality). Also impostor syndrom.💀 On the other hand I got Hisame in Tomo's quiz and I trust Tomo's judgement so ig hes like me fr

31. Which one is better: manga or anime?

Vi. Viol. Listen here. Come closer. I can't believe you would anime better even ask me something anime better like that when you anime better know damn well I can't anime better simply just choose. Both are equality good and have their pros and cons.

but srs I think both are great and well made and I can't judge them on the same basis as anime is more aesthetically pleasing and has a soundtrack and amazing voiceacting while the manga is WAY more detailed, elaborate and impactful with the panel placement. PLUS U HAVENT WATCHED THE ANIME U CANT JUDGE-

[eemcintyre]

Random thoughts I had during my fifth viewing of the cinematic masterpiece "Cocktail" (1988)

Well... more like my 5 2/3 viewing bc I got like 2/3 through it and then my mom was like "why didn't you tell me you were gonna watch it, I would have wanted to watch it too" so I lied about how far I was through it "there's still a lot left we can start it over" and I watched the same movie almost twice in a row in the span of a few hours :)

"Wild Again" by Starship is one of the only good songs tbh, although "Addicted to Love" and "When Will I Be Loved" are also pretty alright. But the soundtrack is lowkey horrendous imo

I stand by my previous standalone post- no one has ever been that excited to get on a fkin Greyhound bus

Benefit of the bus, however- the scene with him and the baby; I feel like Tom just vibes really well w kids because he's such a smiley, fun, and chaotic lil guy and gREAT now I have baby fever again thx 💖

Oh the blatant plot exposition about his parents that they beat us over the head with oh-so-subtly

Oh the foreshadowing throughout that is even less subtle

One of my favorite quotes in any movie, bc it makes me feel better about my life being in disarray and not knowing what to do about it, I guess, is the “Most things in life, good and bad, just kinda happen to ya.”

Tom's still got his high little baby voice 😩

Even as a college graduate, the interviewing scene hits way too hard 🥲😩

Someone needs to acknowledge that the Red Eye looks like the most disgusting thing

Wish the dress shirt and tie fit had been featured more because it does things to me, but the scenes contrasting his first and second shift at the bar are when I first developed TC brain rot and fell in love w that lil goofball

I can’t judge the girl giving him the "fuck me eyes" bc have you seen him, plus she’s showing restraint compared to what I would do tbh

The adult learners usually drove me nuts in my classes (which I know is terrible but shhhhh) but I felt so bad for Sheila Rivkin

This professor really thinks he’s doing standup comedy or smth

Honey don’t put your face on the subway stairs that's arguably more disgusting than a Red Eye

The timeline of this movie is pretty hard to follow tbh; much as I adore it, you never know every time a scene changes whether it's been two days or like 3 months

What the actual fuck was the whole yuppie poet thing about- it's like when I used to watch those 60s Frankie and Annette movies where the weirdest shit would just happen for no reason and I felt like there was some social commentary or inside joke or smth that was just going way over my head that, if I had existed in that time, would have just been like "oh yeah that makes total sense"

The amount of raw sexual energy that this man exudes- I remember someone's post from a while back that was like "why is Cocktail like a 'mom' movie that all the moms are still obsessed with" but just like imagine if you saw this in theaters when it first came out

The only man allowed to wear beach shirts and look sexy, change my mind

I've always thought Elisabeth Shue is so incredibly underappreciated as an actress, smth about her line delivery and expressions just seems very genuine and naturalistic idk

She just orders “a beer” WHAT KIND???

So scary tbh how much he was becoming like Doug even being apart from him for a while

The side eye and shade Jordan gives Doug in this scene cracks me up every time without fail

The reggae singer absolutely popping tf off in his silver lamé suit ✨

Brian and Jordan both pulling the “I’m not like other girls” lmao

Sure she’s lowkey a manic pixie dream girl but I still love her

WATCH THE ROAD WHILE U DRIVIN THE CAR BRIAN 😤

If this movie was remade in modern times (God forbid) Brian would 100% be one of those guys with a hustle culture boss up motivational entrepreneur Instagram account. And Doug would perhaps be one of those cringy creepy pickup artists that talks about low-value women and compares them to horses and thinks he can mind-trick them into falling madly in love w him

If someone was waking me up early every morning to drink carrot juice I would commit crimes

The artist guy who made that exhibit looks like the oiliest man I’ve ever seen

Jordan’s dad says “bartender” like it’s a slur

When Brian tears up the check it always makes my lil heart just 💗💫🥺 the character evolution

Why did I only have this thought on my like fifth viewing of this movie, but I wonder if he hadn’t escorted Kerry back to her apartment if he would have gotten back in time to save Doug, and then who knows what would’ve happened bc then he wouldn’t have felt compelled to tell Jordan how much he really loved her and ask Pat for help and all that

WHEN HE FIGHTS EVERYONE OFF TO GET TO JORDAN what can I say, I'm a sucker for grand and melodramatic romantic gestures and proclamations of love

The teasing and singing along at the wedding is getting a little too real guys stop making this awkward 👀😬

I don’t care how unrealistic the end is, and that in real life they would have 100% soon gotten divorced, bc I want to believe that people can change and that all of the tribulation was worth it + enough for Brian to become a good dad/husband and successful but with it not being above and at the expense of his family; he would be such a fun and chaotic dad and their life would be so hectic w twins but I want to believe they could do it :( it comforts my cynical and depression-addled brain to believe they could do it :(

[hollysoda]

On a bit of a tier list kick and realised “goddamn I’ve played a lot of different Mario Kart games recently” so decided to rank them :D

Notes below:

Idc what anyone says Mario Kart 8 Deluxe is the most fun I’ve had playing any of these. “But it’s so much easier” “but the booster course is just a cash grab” I don’t care!! I enjoy it!! There so many tracks to choose from and all of their soundtracks are so goddamn good!! Plus the booster course is slowly improving the character roster which is amazing!! I know it’s the old “new=good” thing but this time it’s true I’m sorry

On the other hand, Mario Kart Wii. I’m nostalgic I’m sorry but can you really blame me when this game literally ruled my childhood from ages 5-10? So many cool and iconic nitro tracks and the best character roster in the whole series. I’d love to play it again if my wii remotes weren’t broken

Okay so I didn’t remember all that much about Mario Kart DS. I knew I had it when I was a kid but other than a few courses I had mostly forgotten about the game, but I bought it second hand the other day and omg. This game slaps. It’s so fucking fun and I can’t believe I forgot about it. Straight to top A tier

Mario Kart 7 is also probably a nostalgia based pick tbh but it was the game that actually made me play Mario Kart properly. I learned to drift in MK7 and overall appreciated the competitive side of the series a lot more. Also it has my all time favourite track, Melody Motorway :) (or Music Park for Americans)

Honestly the only reason I enjoyed Mario Kart 64 as much as I did was because it’s so fucking chaotic and brutal to the point where it’s funny. Drifted too far? Approached the jump awkwardly? Oops you’re now facing backwards and in last place! Some of the courses are ridiculously long *cough* Rainbow Road which lowers it

Probably a bit controversial but I do enjoy Tour. I haven’t played in over a year but late 2021 - mid 2022 I played it to DEATH because one of my irls got me back into it and coincidentally this was a pretty rough period in my life, so I do owe it one for keeping me stable. Kinda sucked that they got rid of the gatcha feature though :(

Mario Kart Super Circuit is really tricky for me but I really like the graphics. That’s probably it’s only saving grace lmao. Maybe I just find the GBA era of pixel graphics to be endearing idk. It has the same level of brutality as N64 but nowhere near as fun

I have played the arcade game a few times in amusements and it is fun :) that’s it. I don’t play it enough to actually have a proper opinion.

Og Mario Kart is very annoying and the tracks and boring. If I see their asses as a retro track I am not happy >:(

Never owned a Wii U so I never played the og Mario Kart 8 but all I know is that MK8D vastly improved on a lot of its flaws over the years so ultimately it is just better. Also I desperately want to play Double Dash (please add GameCube games to the switch Nintendo holy shit) and I would rank it high because all the tracks that have been turned into retro tracks are so so fun.

[izzy-b-hands]

34 & 44!

Connie!!! Thank you!! 💖💖💖💛💛!

34. is there a song you know every word to by heart?

This is where the Autism kicks in akdnfkgng, even if I dislike a song (like actively hate lmaooo) if I hear it enough it will be stuck in there, fully remembered, forever. I can't remember my cousin's bdays without it being marked already on a calendar, but if someone asked me to sing any song I hate for karaoke? (Let's go with Blurred Lines because I watch an old Big Fat Quiz ep and guess what they played more than once 🙃): I could do it. It might not sound good, but by god every word would be there.

On the plus side, songs I love also stick in there easily, which means there's also a selection of MCR, anything that's ever been on a Saints Row soundtrack, the entire OFMD soundtrack (literally have not relistened to The Chain because it's been in my head on repeat since I watched it 😂)

Fuck the Autism also kicked in on this answer (and the next im so sorry ilu) what a book, forgive me for these lmaooo

44. you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

Okay so I'm v stoned and got waaay too deep into this question ngl like. considering who and the concept of revenge and vigilante justice and would seeking the other person's death really create an overwhelming sense of fulfillment and peace, or simply mutate the current grief into something twisted and painful that haunts one until their death? Then thinking if I undertook manipulation to ensure the death of someone else but had to spend time in their company as a result am I then no better than them for having taken their hospitality which comes from their horrific actions?

Then I realized the best answer is probably Thomas Hardy or (and hoo boy am I a little scared to note this one hence writing it to evade tags) J./K./R./

The first because I hate having to read his sad sack books and like. I think it would be a mercy to kill him and put him out of his fucking misery. "Because we are to meny" fuck u Tommy Boy that shit destroyed me

And the second because her work was a huge part of my childhood. I loved that shit; I still have merch from my middle school days even that is in storage to be burned later. At one point I had planned a tattoo of a fave line even (I'm glad I waited, but had I gotten it I think now I would just be figuring out a good cover up design. That's just me personally tho cuz like. who tf gets a fun fandom tattoo and then expects This Shit from the author, ya know? I didn't as a kid, planning for that tattoo while I reread the books.)

As a result of who she's revealed herself to be and what she believes, I've cut that part of myself out like a cancer (tearing up the old books and using them for art projects, the merch burning is probably going to be done this or next summer or whenever we aren't in a damn drought with bonfire bans) but bits of it linger, ya know? Like I'll think of a song from middle school and then be blasted with the memory of how I played it on repeat while reading the latest in the series, and then remember Why i haven't been able to listen to the song in years

I wish i could literally erase all of it from my memory, never see the books or merch or the movies (on streaming sites too) ever again. But since I can't, though I keep on trying, I would settle for doing to her what she thinks should happen to people like me

However she also seems like a scrapper and she's taller than me so tbh I dunno if I would be successful or if it would be a mutual fight to the death, but I would be fine with that too. Not a win-win, but not every situation is in life lol

[forthegamesmyguy]

all right. before I get my hands on this lemme get thoughts out

I don't care for the textural look. The blurred yassification of it all... Hoping for mods 😭

Solas better not die or I'm quitting

Inquisitor....Imma be real idrc 😔🤷🏼‍♀️ like I'm sorry but they're literally all gonna be the same character? That's a joke.

Sorry I'm not being Fair. I bet it ends up like this: you are kind of sad and kind of nice when you "redeem" and you are kind of mad and kind of mean when you "stop". If you romance him your Lavellan will make that stupid ass frowny face from DAI but otherwise be basically the same as "redeem"

I'm expecting to not like the combat unfortunately....it looked like everything just jumps you and you exclusively and the difficulty is just gonna be even more mobs literally mobbing you while ur companions looked like they were kinda doing fuck all ........ Plus the only 2 😭 my banter 😭😭 but yeah idk. I get they're rly relying on the detonation thing but tbh w u I didn't rly do that shit in DAI....dao yes bc combat is slower. When it's faster like this I honestly just turn my brain off lol

I'm guessing I'm gonna go for davrin, emmerich or bellara first. I also see them as possible Culprits but idk if we're getting yet another betrayal arc tbh

Would love one of the romances that happens outside ur own to b with that old man

Taash got something Mythal related going on ? Suspicious

I'm expecting this to be my least favourite of the four but that's rly bc it wasn't allowed to be what it should have been for most of its development..... The live service skeleton is all over the look of this and it seems to be anchoring the story, but Make it relevant to the sequel hook from DAI....it seems like it's just kind of set up to fail as the weakest narratively. Which sucks bc it's the big climax. Hoping I'm pleasantly surprised

I was gonna read the supplemental stuff but didn't. I've read summaries tho, so my take from the dread wolf was seemed to be that the lyrium idol=the lyrium dagger....

very curious to know if we can interact with Solas at will in the lighthouse or like. How does it work. Anyway can I ask him about his fish

Really hoping the soundtrack references Morris when it comes to Inquisitor and Solas :/ and any other returning notes I just don't know who else gonna be there lol

I honestly haven't given it too much thought beyond uhhhh my guy better be okay

[daimonhalos]

Appreciation post for the eggpire and more during the red banquet cause I'm not seeing enough love for how well they organized and delivered and because I'm so proud of cc!Bad for how far the Bloodvines arc has gone ♥ (this stuff is from Bad's vod btw)

Also something to cheer people up a bit in case the lore got u hard like it got me cause I'm still not okay bestie <3

The starting soon screen being an animation (with glitches to show another frame!!) plus the jazzy electro-swing soundtrack underneath. Just such a good intro, I felt like I was actually in the waiting line for an event, just awesome.

Ponk. Just Ponk, dapper man, handsome Ponk just standing there. Gorgeous, thank you, standing ovation, I love him.

Just everything Bad and Ant did with the building of the room, the stairs!! The coat room!!! The statues right in front of the table, everything looked SO pretty.

ANT MY BELOVED LOOKING HANDSOME AS ALWAYS I just loved all their outfits. The banquet's skins just SLAPPED HARD.

The little moment where Bad changed view of his character and we could see him, Ant and Ponk cwc

Bad singing >>>>>>>>>>

Everyone getting lost despite the oak signs

THE ARC ABOVE THE DANCEFLOOR, WHAT THE HELL YOO

Bad complimenting everyone on their outfits and giving out some gapples here and there

Bad also always repeating the same catchphrases

Sam just drinking copiously and the dumpy situation

People actually dancing + HBomb being the dj

Puffy walking around Bad to see his outfit and complimenting him, just felt like their old friendship cwc

FOOLISH GAVE BAD A FLOWER <3

Bad scolding George for not wearing an outfit (Sam's "his name is Gogy and he is beautiful")

"It's almost time for the feast. It's gonna be delicious." the foreshadowing

Everyone dancing together cwc

"minecraft dancing is speed squats" eret ilu

Bad and Ant complimenting moment ♥

The eggpire all on the same side of the table. Them

Ponk's little "Hello!" after Bad said he made the soup, plus everyone going "good job!!" just twt

When Bad started asking if anyone wanted to give a toast, I realized eventually that this was more of a disguised "Want to say your last words before death?" and it now sounds s o freaking cool. ye s

P O N K 'S S P E E C H

"you look beautiful right now" sam i will cry

When in the middle of his speech, Bad turns to Ant who's already looking at him, nods, Ant nods back, and as Bad turns around again we can see Ant walking away from his seat. I am OBSESSED with this scene, like you already know something is about to go down and oh gosh it was delivered so good

THE LAVA COMING DOWN FROM THE CEILING AS BAD KEPT TALKING, NONE NOTICING, HIM TALKING ABOUT HOW THE BANQUET WILL BE UNFORGETTABLE. SO HOT

"And yeah! Thank you for coming everybody" the little mischievous giggles right after "And prepare uh ... yep. Prepare to die." AND THEN HE FUCKIGN DRINKS FROM HIS GLASS LIKE COME ON YOU CANT BE ANY COOLER THAN THAT YOOO

"The leaf is staying the way it is" you can hear the laughter in his voice like HAH GOTTEM that's so good

Bad still giving Hbomb gapples cwc

"Where you looking for this perchance?" AND THEN EQUIPS THE ENTIRE ARMOR AND WEAPONS E Y E when the twists started dude. this si where the twists started and never ended

HANNAH CROSSING SIDES AND SIDING WITH THE EGGPIRE. QUEEN SHIT that was such a cool moment for her i'm so glad she's getting her moment

The eggpire laughing, just pure villainy, love them

"Time to get on the main event" the nonchalance. The way they equipped the crossbows and readied the arrows at the same time. B r u h fucking awesome they are

The eggpire faking being afraid when Sam was talking about blowing the egg up. Sad that we already knew about the obsidian thing, but still made it a very cool scene. Especially right after when they started laughing at them again. I don't know what it is about it but I love them being so sassy.

FREAKING EXECUTIONS THEY WORKED FOR MASS EXECUTIONS they were able to trap all those freaking people!! And trick them and counter attack all the time! what the fuck, I'm so impressed

Thank you Fundy for sounding super terrified /gen ♥

Wait ahah they really said EGGSECUTION-

THE EGG HATCHES THE EGG HATCHES THE EGG HATCHES im not saying IT but im saing Velvet

"Follow me! Follow me!" HANNAH SOUNDED SO ENTHUSIASTIC i love

"We trusted you!" "Well, that was your first mistake-" THE WAY BAD WAS ABOUT TO LAUGH. DUDE they definitely had so much fucking fun making this

sassyboyhalo

Foolish acting thank u ily. Also the thunder not working what the heck i wanna know what was going on inside his mind right then he sounded so lost. THE ACTING

"Sacrifice!" Hannah idk how to say this but I love you

ANT MOMENTTTT

When puffy called them selfish i was expecting bad to just do a huge double take. I wanted him to snap immediately PLEASE SNAP-

BAD DELIVERING AGAIN WITH THE AMAZING ACTING

"Not just for the egg but for what the egg is going to give us" he's so desperately trying to make them udnerstand it promised him his friend back he literally mentions it every single time but everyone calls him selfish because they think he wants power when he just wants skeppy's friendship back in this essay I will- Anyway yes I love that he never explicitly says it because it kills us viewers with pain cause we KNOW and then the reveal will be 100 times more powerful. This is so awesome

"I can't stop Quackity and you know why I can't stop. If I stop I can't get what I need." his voice grew so much lower like he's just holding back MAN I HH IT WAS SO GOOD

SECRET RETREAT ROOM YOOO

Ponk giving Bad some food and telling him to stay safe, Bad telling both Hannah and Ponk to stay safe too. My tears

And now the solo Bad lore part, where we actually see the true part of him that's absolutely devastated and makes me cry, the way he acted all confident and then saw everything crumble in a few seconds and now he's destroyed again because what if they find a way to destroy the egg what then? what if he never gets skeppy back? dude, you can just read his emotions it's so sad and i love how it was portrayed

"I know where I can go. I know who I can see!" BDI REF BDI REF FOR SURE I have a feeling that's going to be explained in the next lore stream with Skeppy and I'm so hype. I love the little crumbs of references here and there.

"But now they have it.." he sounded so broken??? bad your acting please ill cry

"I didn't really want to hurt anybody" his true self trying to get back cwc especially because he's farther away from the egg. I just love the transition between the guy Bad portrays who's so sure about the egg when it's in front of others and the doubts and anxiety he actually has when he's alone. Just so cool

"Did I screw up?" im just pointing out everything that moves me emotionally cause these people's acting is so cool

Ending the stream with simple black background my beloved

Okay but really I'm so so so proud of the ccs for making this happen and it's only going upwards, I'm literally so in awe, they really said go big or go home

Free space for Ant's villain speech I wasn't able to hear yet, but they said it was v cool, so I'm trusting people on this

Thank you for listening, stan Bloodvines arc /hj

If I made typos no I didn't

[ppersonna]

thunder - ksj | m

your voice was the soundtrack of my summer. do you know you're unlike any other? you'll always be my thunder. - thunder, boys like girls

↳ summary- you allow your best friend Jin to take you backpacking once per year.  apparently, this year’s outing would be the wettest yet.

↳ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

↳ pairing- kim seokjin x reader

↳ word count- 6k

↳ genre- fluff, tiny angst, smut, comedy

↳ warnings- penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, light dom!jin, light sub!reader, fucking in tents haha ha ha ha, cum play, cum eating, possessive dirty talk

↳ a/n- wow hello! its been so long since i uploaded a fic i almost forgot how to do it! i would like to give you a fic that i’ve had in my storage since march, and one i’m excited to finally finish. i’d be nowhere without @taetaewonderland​ @xjoonchildx​ @ladyartemesia​ for hyping me up to post it in the first place.  thank u to @shadowsremedy​ for being my fav beta ily ily ily. enjoy my babes! pls feel free to message me!

 “Kim Seokjin, if you got us lost, I’m going to murder you,” you seethed as your pulled your booted foot out of a slick puddle of mud. 

“I didn’t get us lost, dear. The map is wrong,” he replied coolly as he twisted the crumpled map from portrait to landscape, and back again. “I’m an excellent navigator, but when the tools I have are faulty…”. 

You grumbled, stopping your walk to sit on a fallen log. You sighed audibly at your best friend, still maneuvering in the small clearing in the forest, trying to match the map to where you were. You chanced a look at the sky as you sought to catch your breath and sate your anger. Dark, heavy clouds were forming, the kind that didn’t just indicate a sprinkle but a torrential downpour. 

“Shit, Jin. It’s going to storm soon,” you warned.  

He stopped his map seeking and glanced at the sky, frown buried deep in his face. 

Instantly, as if it never changed, he returned to his bright and cheery demeanor. 

“Well! Looks like we should work faster to make it back to camp, huh?” 

Seokjin would be excited for an unexpected kink in your plans. The boy was obsessed with “roughing it”. You agreed to one weekend with minimal hiking. Camping, in your opinion, was meant to be spent drunk around a fire eating s’mores and telling scary stories, not walking for miles through nothing but trees, mud, and probably bears.

Camping had never been your favorite hobby, and you allowed Seokjin to take you off trail backpacking once per year. The man looked forward to it, planned it several months in advance, and counted down the days until he stuffed you in his Jeep down a deserted forest highway to the campsite. 

Only, Jin never took the “minimal hiking” thing too seriously. 

“It’s an easy hike,” he had promised you that morning as you set up camp. “More of a stroll than anything.” 

You kicked at the dirt beneath you now, upset you had listened to the dark-haired man’s empty promises. 

“How about we just go back the way we came from?” You suggested as you stood up and brushed the dirt off your backside from the log. 

“Nonsense,” he sniffed. “I’ve got it right here. We can take this trail,” he gestured at a clearing through the trees, “for about a mile, turn left at the open valley, and we’ll be back at camp two miles after that!”  He proclaimed his findings as if it were so easy, so obvious. 

“Great, three miles of hiking. After we’ve already done four, at least.”

“Yes, my ever-positive sunshine, you should be happy I found us a shortcut.” He patted your head and smiled at you as he adjusted your backpack strap that was sliding off your shoulders. He lingered, eyes on you and your lips for just a fraction too long, before he turned and began leading you through the forest. 

Your heart was racing, unrelated to the elevation or the hike. 

You gave in so easily to Jin not because he was your best friend since childhood, but also because he was the man you were hopelessly in love with. 

You’d been smitten with the older boy since your senior year of high school, when he jokingly asked you to prom and you realized you wanted Seokjin courting you to be a regular occurrence. 

You stayed by his side through it all, all girlfriends and breakups. It hurt to watch him with another, but maintaining his friendship was more important than anything else and you weren’t about to lose him to a crush that you could easily just avoid. 

Seokjin was attached to your hip, a fact your friends never let you live down. They were relentless in encouraging you two to be alone, and for you to admit your feelings to him. They told you they were sure he would reciprocate it.  

Unbeknownst to them, you had admitted it. 

You and Jin once got messy drunk on the floor of your apartment, where you slithered up into his lap and whispered your secret devotion to your best friend. Seokjin merely laughed and kissed your nose. You were so embarrassed and rejected you never brought it up again. Best to leave it be, rather than bring a 15 year friendship to a screeching halt. 

So—you valiantly stood by him as his best friend and confidante. You were there when he excitedly told you about his new girlfriend, or when he called you crying over their breakup. Your heart twinged at both; you wanted to be the reason for his excitement and the balm to his wounded heart. 

You allowed Seokjin to take you on all his wild adventures. Like now—traipsing through the forest with no direction in sight, because you would have done nearly anything for the boy.

A crack of thunder shook you from your thoughts and you jumped at the sudden sound. 

“Ah, so cute,” he smiled at you, “still afraid of thunder?”

You blushed and pouted. “It just surprised me, is all.”

He smirked as if to say he didn’t believe you and nodded. “We should get a move on, don’t want to get caught in the rain.” 

You shivered at the thought. It was already cool in the forest; the trees providing enough coverage it locked out any sun, if there had been any. You quickly moved in step behind your best friend. It only took a few minutes of silence before the telltale pitter patter of droplets on leaves began. A fat raindrop landed on your forehead. 

“Fuck,” you groaned. “It’s starting.”  

“I know,” Jin suddenly looked worried, his confident demeanor cracking. He looked back at you and tightened the straps on his backpack. 

“Let’s run?”

You were powerless to deny any request from him. Plus, you didn’t really feel like getting drenched. 

You adjusted your own backpack and took off, running through the quickly dampening forest beside Seokjin. 

The rain came in a downpour. It hit you hard, blurring your vision. Seokjin slipped his hand into yours, not wanting to lose you in the storm. You pushed your legs in time with his, jumping around fell logs and rocks and skipping large puddles. 

You were drenched as Seokjin pulled you into a makeshift canopy of rocks, a momentary pause from the storm to catch your breath. Your hair was soaking wet, as if freshly showered. Seokjin’s hair stuck to his face, and you smiled as he looked at you with concern. It only took a moment until you were both bursting with laughter, finding humor at the moment. 

It was something you loved about Seokjin. He always knew how to make you laugh in times it seemed impossible. 

“This sucks,” you spoke through your joyful laughter.  He nodded in agreement. 

“I think we’re almost back. We need to turn soon, and then we’ve got about two more miles. You ready?”

You agreed and pushed back the slick hair in your eyes, before doing the same for him. His eyes sparkled. You didn’t know what it meant. 

In an instant, you were running again. The backpack bounced against your back and rain pounded your body. The things you did for Kim Seokjin. You were whipped, and you knew it. 

The trail seemed like it went on forever. You both became so tired of running that you slowed and trudged slowly through mud as rain pelted you, accepting your fate of soaking to the bone. You were sure you had never been this drenched in your life.  Your clothes were stuck to your body and dripping down into your shoes and socks. Your teeth chattered in the breeze—it felt as if the wind whipped right through you.  The sky rumbled again, as if warning you to hurry lest it dump more rain on you.

Seokjin was always the caring companion. He rubbed your shoulders and arms to warm them up and promised a roaring fire. You hated how much it made your heart burst.

You were very much looking forward to your one-man tent, stocked with a sleeping bag and blankets. You could strip down and dry off and slip into the warmth of your own personal nest. 

Seokjin waxed poetic about his own spacious tent—a lofty family sized one, and how he made sure he brought his sleeping bag along with 8 thick blankets, and how he couldn’t wait to snuggle down into his own.  Seokjin was the picture of preparedness. He even kept a locking box full of snacks in his tent because the boy was a foodie and couldn’t survive without the treats. It came in handy. 

“What would you do if we were stuck out here forever?” You posed to your best friend, curious about his response and desperate to pass the time as you hiked. 

“Well,” he thought aloud. “I’d miss the guys. But I’d be happy to be stuck out here with you.”  

Your cheeks flushed. 

“You wouldn’t miss, ah—what’s her name? Miya?” 

Seokjin shrugged. “She’s fun. She’s not you, though.”

You couldn’t help but grumble internally. She was good enough to date, and you weren’t. She was different in some respect. 

“Are things not going well with her?” You asked, secretly hoping they weren’t.

“It’s fine. She’s nice and all,” he sighed.  “Just, there’s no spark there, you know?”  

You knew all too well. Any man you tried to date paled compared to your best friend, and the fireworks behind your every heartbeat when you were near him.

“What about you?” He was peering into your eyes and into what felt like your soul. “You and Jungkook sure seem cozy.” His tone sounded annoyed, sarcastic even.

You couldn’t help but bark a laugh. 

“Oh god, no,” you shook your soggy head.  “Not my type. We’re good friends and that’s it. Plus, I’m sure he’s into Jimin.”

Seokjin shrugged again. “You sit on his lap and cuddle up to him all the time…”

“Are you jealous?” You smirked, nudging the man.  Please, god, please be jealous.

“N-No!” He was sharp. “I’m not.”

Ouch.

You remained silent, eyes downcast at your muddy boots as you walked alongside the man.

“Sorry,” he mumbled after a beat of silence. 

“Don’t worry about it, Seokjin. I got it—loud and clear.”

Seokjin looked hurt, a wave of dissatisfaction crossing his features. He wanted to say something, mouth opening to continue his apology. You ignored it wholly. He knew your feelings. There was no way he couldn’t remember that night. You pushed ahead of the man, walking in front of him to avoid his pained gaze and likely hurried apology.  

The light of day was leaving. Everything around you was steadily getting darker, and the rain showed no sign of giving up. You silently begged to be back to the safety of your camp soon, lest you become walking mountain lion bait.

“There’s camp!” Seokjin finally pointed and ran through the rain ahead of you.

“Oh thank fuck,” you sighed, feeling as if it lifted a weight from your shoulders. You couldn’t wait to strip out of your soaking clothes and slither into your blankets.

“Oh shit,” Seokjin whispered, stopping where he stood.  You followed his gaze, concerned about what stopped the boy so quickly.   

Your tent was ripped open, the insides of it exposed to the wind and rain. Everything you owned was soaking wet. You had set it up in a clearing with not too many trees above it, and it appeared the lack of protection against the wind and rain tore the poor fabric to shreds.

A worn-out and distraught sob left your lips.

“No!”  

You ran to the tent and nearly cried. Fortunately, beyond just being soaking wet and useless for the night, everything was intact. There was only no warmth to be had. No warm clothes to change into. Nothing.  

“What the fuck am I going to do?!” 

Seokjin placed a hand on your shoulder.  

“You can share with me?” He sounded hopeful. “We can hang your clothes to dry and when the storm passes, we can build a fire and let your tent air out.  But you should probably sleep in my tent tonight.” 

You bit your lip. You had slept with Seokjin in more beds than you could count, always being forced to share a bed as the designated ‘best friends who don’t care’.  And it was never easy for you. You always woke up with the delicious scent of his cologne and shampoo, and your body curled around his. His hardness would always be pressed up against you, and it took all you had not to wrap your mouth around it to wake him up.

“Yeah, thanks Seokjin,” you breathed. “I’m fucking freezing. And I’m tired. I just want to get some sleep.”

Seokjin slipped his backpack off and pulled yours off your frame. He hung them from a sturdy branch, protected by layers of trees overhead, to let them dry.  

“I have some towels in my tent, go on in. You can get dry and hand me your wet clothes to hang. Then you can get in the blankets and I’ll make us something to eat.”

You blushed. Seokjin hadn’t seen you fully naked, ever; at least not since you were toddlers.

Slipping into his blankets while stark nude would be a dream. It was something you fantasized about more than you’d care to admit. But, in the current conditions, being naked and clammy in the blankets next to your best friend who didn’t return any feelings for you sounded more like an awkward moment waiting to happen.

If Seokjin noticed anything, he didn’t show it. He acted as if making you strip in his tent was a normal thing, nothing out of the ordinary. 

“I’ll wait out here,” he nodded dutifully. 

You slipped out of your muddy boots and socks, and into his tent. It was nice and spacious, and the blankets looked incredibly enticing. It was kind of Seokjin to let you stay with him, even kinder that he would remain soaking wet to make you something to eat. Your body felt so worn out and drained, and you were sure he did too. 

You peeled the wet clothing off of you, every bit, before sticking your head out the door and handing him the clothes.  

“Don’t worry about food, okay? You should get dry too.”  

He wrinkled his forehead. 

“You sure?” 

You bit your lip and nodded. 

“I’m sure. Plus, we have your snacks.”

“Ah, good thinking,” he shot his finger guns at you. “I’ll be there in a minute, then. Hand me a towel and I’ll get undressed out here.”

You shyly handed him a towel, now very aware that you and Seokjin would be in the same tent—naked. The thought thrilled you as much as it scared you. 

It didn’t take long to burrow yourself into his freshly made bed roll, sliding into the neat layers. Seokjin was nearly military in his routine and order.  Everything was always tucked, pressed, and laid down perfectly. 

Your body wracked with shivers and chills—the blankets and sleeping bag were cold from the ambient air outside. You folded yourself together in a fetal position to maintain some warmth. It felt good to lie down on the soft bed mat, but the blankets were doing nothing to provide warmth. 

The sound of the zipper opening the front door flap of the tent made you shake harder. You could feel the wind blow through the opening now. The sound of the storm was loud, and you were grateful for the heavy tarp covering Seokjin’s tent. It provided some respite from the wind and kept all water off the tent. At least Seokjin had been smart in his setup. You ignored the man’s suggestions to set up better, and you were fully regretting it now.

Seokjin had the towel wrapped around his waist and stepped about the tent easily. He dabbed at his upper body with a smaller towel from his suitcase and rubbed his hair dry. The normally perfectly coiffed head was now static-y and sticking up wildly. It would have made you laugh if you weren’t so cold. 

Seokjin moved around you and slid into the blankets, leaving a large space between you, before he threw the towel around his waist onto the floor. He was naked now; you noted internally. You both were. A shiver ran down your spine, unrelated to the relentless chill.

It was silent. All you could hear was the beating of the rain on the tarp and your teeth chattering as you shivered. 

Seokjin stole a look at you, finally, and noticed your position, holding yourself to build warmth. 

“Shit, are you okay?” He asked. 

“I’m j-j-just col-l-ld,” you whispered. “And t-t-tired.”

Seokjin didn’t reply, but you heard the scratching sound of a moving sleeping bag and rustling of blankets and suddenly felt a very warm, very naked body pressed against you. It was blissful, and you moaned out loud at the feel of him spooning you. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. You didn’t know what for, and couldn’t bring yourself to reply. 

You burrowed yourself down into his warmth and felt his arms wrap around you, securing you against him. He radiated heat. He felt like heaven. Your eyes closed—he had you feeling like you had stepped into a delicious sauna.

Seokjin’s muscular arms hadn’t moved an inch since they wrapped around you, but now his hands slowly rubbed at your torso, warming you everywhere his hand dragged. It felt electrifying and your body relaxed easily under his delicate fingertips. 

It started out innocent, rubbing along your stomach and side to warm you further. But his hand began straying north, reaching the crest of your breasts. Your breath hitched as he rubbed over the cold swells. Your nipples were hard from the chill and pebbled even further with the touch of his hands. It made a gasp stick in your throat.

His lips touched your neck, lightly. They were warm too. It seemed his entire body was twenty degrees warmer than your own, and every touch felt like a raging flame. His hands continued rubbing along your breasts as he laved and sucked.

 at the column of your throat.  

As instantly as it began, Seokjin stopped. His hands hovered above your breasts. 

He pressed kisses to your neck and face. “We should sleep, babe,” he sighed.  

You wanted to protest, to push him further, to take care of what he started, but you couldn’t find the energy. Seokjin’s warmth matched with the comfort of his bedroll, and the soothing rise and fall of his breath was lulling you into sleep. Even though it was still early evening, the hike and the run back to safety took it all out of you.  

Seokjin’s arms felt like safety. He secured them around you, slipping just underneath your breasts where his thumb could trace alongside the bottom as you easily succumbed to sleep.

It was still dark when you woke.  

The rain was still coming down, light this time. It sounded relaxing, soothing. Seokjin was still spooning you, sleeping soundly behind you. You twisted in his grasp to gaze at him. 

His hair was dry now, sticking out randomly about his pillow. You were sure if he saw it he’d panic, normally so precise with his looks. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep, none of his chaotic energy and dramatic charisma. 

You loved every facet of Seokjin. You loved the flamboyance, the sensitivity, the deep compassion for his friends.  

You turned around, as gently and quietly as you could, and pressed a hand to his cheek—rubbing at the warm and soft flesh. He sighed softly in his sleep, moving against his pillow. An eye cracked open, and he stared at you. 

“Why are you awake?” He whispered, his voice gentle. “It’s still dark.” 

He was confused, and the look that graced his features was adorable. You wanted to photograph it and frame it, make it the lock screen of your phone. 

You shook your head. 

“Don’t know.”

Seokjin’s hand rubbed at your shoulder, then up to your face. He tucked your hair behind your ear and smiled at you. 

“You look so cute in the moonlight.”

You closed your eyes, letting his compliment wash over you. You couldn’t find the words to reply. You let him continue caressing your cheek, feeling as if you were living a fantasy where Seokjin touched you like a lover. 

You were so close to him, chest pressing against his own. Something about the quiet storm, the dark tent, had you disregarding any embarrassment you should have felt pressing your naked tits to the man's chest, but the spell of the forest had you pressing closer. Your lips were inches apart, and you could feel his breath on your lips. 

The feel of Seokjin’s lips pressing against yours was light, but felt as if all the fireworks in the world exploded behind your eyes and within your belly. It started sweet, gentle. You kissed him like you always wanted to, full of unrequited love and unwavering desire. Your arms slithered around his neck, pulling him even closer against you.  

The kiss turned deeper, mouths opening to allow the passage of tongues. He sought into your mouth, caressing yours with his own, pouring what felt like his very spirit into you. His hand left your back and slid up your sides to press against your breast. 

“Seokjin,” you murmured, feeling your brain swirl headily. “Feels good.”

He didn’t reply, only kept kissing at your neck and pinching gently at your hardened nipples. It made you cry out, gaping at the slight pain.

“If you want me to stop, tell me.” 

His words were gentle. His hands stilled, stopping all ministrations against you.

Your breath was hard and shaky, matching the erratic beat of your heart in your ribcage. Your unrequited crush of years was now roaming your body, touching you as a lover rather than a friend.

“Please, don’t stop.”

He was on you again, now bloodthirsty for any part of your skin to touch. He tugged at your nipples, suckled up your neck to kiss and lick at the shell of your ears.  You pressed against him, gasping at the feel of his now stiff cock. He circled his hips, relishing in the feel of you against him. You wondered how he would feel inside you. He was thick and long—it would be a stretch, and a most delicious and welcome one.

He pressed you back against the pillow, hovering over your body as he kissed down your neck and sucked at the pressure points there. A pleasured sigh passed through your open lips, reveling in the feel of him on your skin. It was something you dreamed about often. It felt unreal to finally have it. 

You were on display for him, and his eyes raked over you as if you were a Dalí in the Louvre. His hands slid up to cup your breasts, and you tilted your head back to moan. You didn’t care at all about how you looked, how this might be awkward in the next few hours. You cared only about feeling Seokjin within you, getting him off, succumbing to your own pleasure wrought by his hands and his cock.

“Fuck, babe,” he sighed. “Wanted this for a while.”

“Me too,” you gasped as he slid a finger down to your core, circling faintly over your slick folds.

“Have you?”

“Seokjin, I’ve been in love with you since high school.”

Seokjin closed his eyes and smiled, breathing through his nose in contentment.

“You weren’t just saying that when you were drunk then.”

You shook your head, and Seokjin opened his eyes to peer at you.

“No, Seokjin,” you whispered needily, his finger still so torturously close to your clit. “I meant it.”

He leaned down with a smile and planted gentle kisses on your cheeks, adoring and gentle.  

“I’ve been in love with you too. I thought you were just drunk. I never acted on it because I didn’t want to get my heart broken.”

He pulled up and allowed his free hand to cup your cheek.

“I’m going to fuck you now, okay?” He asked. “Like, really fucking hard. You good with that?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. A deep, hearty chuckle passed between both of you, enamored with each other and the situation of being naked and intertwined together, the warmth of your matched confessions surrounding you.  

“Fuck me, please,” you begged.

And Seokjin would be loath to deny you.

His teasing finger finally slid into your core, fucking into you with ease from your slick walls.  You gasped at the welcome intrusion, eyes fluttering closed as he began a slight pace and watched the way you fell apart.

“So pretty,” he whispered. “So fucking pretty.”

He slipped another finger in, scissoring them open as he worked at you.  Your legs trembled, and it made the older man smirk.  

“Look at you,” he praised. “So easily turned into a *gushing* puddle for me.”

You nodded pathetically, back arching as he added yet another finger and pressed at the spot inside you that had your mind spinning and thoughts erasing.

“Oh—God, Jin!”

As much as Jin wanted to see you get off around his fingers, he was desperate for more. You were finally all his—something he’s wanted since he could remember. All he’s wanted was for you to be his.

He pulled his fingers from inside you and smiled as they came out slicked up with your own essence.  He ensured you made eye contact with him, then popped them into his mouth one-by-one, to suck them clean.

It made your mouth nearly fall to the floor as you watched him suck his fingers clean of you. Your body trembled with a need you hadn’t felt before. It was stronger than anything you’d felt before. It was unadulterated desire for Seokjin.

“Mm,” he sighed happily as he pulled the final digit from his mouth. “Delicious, as I thought.”

“Oh, my god,” you gaped. “Jin…,”

The man merely shook his head and smiled, crowding you down and hovering over your lips.

“You’re mine now, you got that?” 

His eyes tracked yours, watching your every movement. It took you a moment to swallow your nerves, to regain any ounce of confidence.

“I’ve always been yours, Seokjin.”

He held you down, watching you with a gleam of wonder in his eye, before surging forward and planting his lips onto yours. His tongue dove in instantly, seeking solace in the warmth of your mouth. Allowing him passage was easy, almost natural. Jin’s tongue swirled around your own as your arms slithered around his neck to bring him closer. Kissing Jin felt like everything you’d imagine it would be, and yet like nothing you could have even dreamed.

Jin didn’t just kiss you—he consumed you. He lapped his tongue into your mouth like he couldn’t get close enough to you. His chest pressed against your body and he groaned into your mouth at the feeling of your perky breasts pushing into his own broad chest.

“Baby,” he whispered as he pulled away. 

It sounded like a dream—the pet name fell from Jin’s lips so easily, as if it were always meant to be spoken to you.

“You’ve always been the one I wanted,” he breathed as he pressed his lips down your neck. “Always the girl I wanted and could never have.”

“Jin,” you gasped as your fingers carded through his hair. “Jin, you’ve always had me.”

He lifted his head and peered deep into your eyes again, so deep it felt like he was glimpsing into your soul.

“I only want you. No one else.”

It knocked you breathless, and it took a moment for you to refill your lungs before nodding.  

“I’m all yours.”

There was acknowledgement in both your admissions. An understanding that there was no more separation of you, and of Jin. That after tonight, it would be a partnership, and the beginnings of something more, something you’ve only dreamt of with the older man.

“Mine,” he whispered, before pressing his lips back to yours.

The kiss was sweet, nearly cloyingly sweet, as his hands cupped your face. He kissed you with every intention, every desperate plea he’s held in his heart for you.

Jin’s length pressed against you—his hips rutting minutely as he kissed you.

“Jin,” you gasped as you pulled away from his lip locked embrace. “Please, I need you.”

Jin’s charming smile spread across his lips, blooming your heart along with it.

“As you wish,” he whispered as he pressed in for another soft kiss..

Instantly, Jin flipped around and switched positions, guiding you to sit atop his hips while he settled down into the mess of blankets and pillows.

“What?” He asked as he noticed your confusion at the sudden mood change, a smirk rising on his puffy lips. “You think I’m gonna let you lay back and make me do all the work?”

There he was, your Seokjin. Never able to keep a comment to himself, regardless of the situation—always working to make you laugh. It made your heart sing.

His hands slid to grip at your hips while you lifted yourself up to hover over his hardened length, lining up the tip to just graze the wetness there.

“You see what you do to me?” You asked with a coy smile. “You see how badly I want you?”

Jin bit his lip, mesmerized by the way your cunt slicked up the head of his cock, desperate to spear into you but holding back.

“Fuck—,” he breathed. “P-Prove it.”

A smirk crossed your features before you took the plunge and allowed his length to slip inside you as you sank to his hips.  The intrusion was welcome, and you gaped at the sensation of him plunging deep.

“Oh, my God!” Jin gasped as you had taken him to the hilt.  His eyes bulged for a moment before they closed in bliss.  “You feel so fucking good.”

You didn’t need to speak. The feeling of Jin’s thick length inside of you was more than enough agreement.  He felt so thick, so long, prodding at the spot inside you that had you weak and stretching you wide to make you gasp at the sizzle of pain.  After a moment of adjusting to his size, you let your hands fall to his chest as you began to slowly rise and fall and set a pace on his cock.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he whined—eyes wide open and watching you bounce on him. “Shit, this is where you belong.”

You eagerly pinched at your nipples as your pace quickened, nodding at Jin’s encouraging words. Your mouth felt dry, and you felt unable to even vocalize your pleasure beyond your loud sighs and moans.

“Jin,” you breathed.

He nodded, assisting your pace by gripping your hips.  He tugged you down, face to face, to rest on his chest while your hips kept their quick speed of enveloping his cock in your tight heat.  He let a hand cup the side of your face, the other moving to grip your ass.

“You’re all fucking mine,” he grunted as he thrusted his cock up into you, matching the rhythm of your rise and fall. “Gonna make you feel so fucking good every day, baby.”

You nodded quickly, heartbeat rising as you quickened each pound.  Jin’s lips pressed to yours again, this time messier, hotter.  He licked into your mouth, desperate for any more of you he could consume.

“Fuck, you drive me fucking crazy,” he said, cock still thrusting deep inside you. “Let me fuck you from behind?”

You didn’t bother replying, simply removing yourself from his body and assuming the position on your hands and knees.  Jin scrambled to line up behind you, hand pumping his slick cock as he marveled at the sight of you presented for him.

“Take me, please,” you whispered, turning your head to peer at him with a desperate smile. “Fuck me until I can’t see straight.”

Jin hissed an expletive, before lining himself up in your sodden folds and plunging in without a second thought.  Your eyes widened at the new angle, gasping as you felt it hit different areas inside of you that had you squeaking with each hard thrust of his cock.

Jin’s hands gripped your ass, your hips, anywhere he could leave his brutal fingerprints.

“God, you take my cock like a fucking queen,” he gasped as the sound of skin slapping echoed around the tent. “Look at your pussy, so fucking wet for me.”

He marveled at the way his cock plunged deep inside you, then came out covered in your creamy slick.

“You gonna cum for me, baby? You gonna let me claim this pussy with my cum?”

The pleasure was overwhelming—it felt like every nerve ending was lit on fire, and you were a burning fuse about to detonate into a thousand brilliant explosions.  Each thrust of Jin’s thickness had you crying for more, moans echoing off the trees outside.  You were suddenly thankful you were in the middle of nowhere, allowing you to be loud and needy.

Jin reveled in your desperate sighs and the way your body pushed back against his to match his pace.  He knew his end was coming, knew it was going to be short-lived from the start. He’s wanted your body for as long as he could remember, and wanted you in his life as his lover, his girlfriend, more than just what he had been relegated to for so long.  

“Mm, baby, you look so good on your knees for me, fuck,” he gasped as his speed increased. “I can’t wait to make you cum on my cock every fucking day, love. This is my pussy now.”

Jin’s possession of your body made you see stars, vision blurring as your cunt tightened its grip around his cock.  Jin gasped at the grip and his hips stuttered.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groaned. “I feel you, baby, fuck. Cum for me, angel. Let me feel this tiny little cunt milk me.”

The coil inside you was tightening, pulling tight and making you gasp and scream at the oncoming rush.  Jin’s pounding was relentless, making your entire body shake with the anticipation.  

Your hand dipped to circle at your clit, the ultimate piece to your end. 

The coil snapped, and your cunt pulsated wildly around his cock, vice-grip tight.  It felt as if you had been catapulted off into space, vision blurring and all sound indiscernible from the blood rushing in your ears.

Jin’s climax quickly overtook him at the feeling of your delicious heat gripping at his cock.  With just a few strokes inside you, his cock pulsed hot stripes of cum within you and painted your channel.  Something primal in Seokjin loved that he was within you now, a piece of him deposited inside. 

He allowed a few moments to pass to catch his breath, before slowly easing his spent cock from your dripping walls.  He groaned as he watched a bit of his seed drip out, and he was careful to collect it on his fingers.

“Come here,” he whispered as he pressed his chest to your back and lifted you upright, sitting on your knees.  He presented his fingers to your lips, dripping with your combined slick, and wrapped his free arm around your stomach.

Obediently, you opened your mouth and allowed the man to swirl his cum-coated digits in your mouth. It made your stomach erupt in butterflies, the taste of you and the man you’ve only dreamt about for years now on your tongue.

A crack of thunder shook you from your silent reverie, and Jin removed his fingers from his mouth before wrapping both arms around you and tugging you down to lie face to face on the mused sleeping bags.

“Now, aren’t you glad we did this?” He asked with a chuckle and a kiss to your nose.

You wrinkled your brow and smiled coyly.

“I would have enjoyed it more if you hadn’t gotten us lost.”

Jin pouted and huffed.

“I didn’t get us lost,” he sniffed with indignation. “The map was wrong.”

[riphimopen]

i'm watching the Halloweens for the first time these days (skipping the third one and the sixth one bc fuck off obviously) and you're the michael expert in my eyes i wanna know EVERYTHING you think of him and how do you feel about the rob zombie version etc etc <3 thank youuuu

IM THE EXPERT????? OH BOY IM SMOOCHING YOU no youre making the right choices FUCK 3 6 and FUCK rz. ok here we go let me just talk abt the movies first

west coast best coast first movie best movie PERIOD obv im all for expanding on mikes character and shit etc but 1978 said THERE IS A FUCKED UP GUY PERIOD. THATS IT. and i really admired their dedication to lack of detail. like if i was just gonna watch one and done? first movie has mike, jamie lee curtis, and murders, and thats really all you need. plus obv cinematography and soundtrack

H2 is where we get BALLING its got explosions doctors MORE JAMIE LEE CURTIS and ofc...... my favorite plot twist on da planet lol <333 personally i love the sibling twist bc its funny as SHIT. h2 is a good one. ending wild as shit

h3 not real #girl

h4 and 5......... UGH ok i love jamie lloyd sm she a baby fr and one of the best things to happen to the franchise. WE DO NOT TALK ABT THE THORN CURSE OR H6 THEY R NOT REAL overall 4+5 as a package deal are solid and have some good moments, if you can get past the stupid druid shit and the man in black theres lots to expand on mikes character and make you HATE sam loomis

h20 is the FUNNIEST SHIT on the planet. PERIOD LMAOO LIKE??? this was really the Laurie Off Tha Shits movie and i think they were SO brave for that i personally dont keep it main cannon in my little brain but its extremely funny and i love the emphasis on sibling dynamic. its so good and by the end ur yelling like YES thats what horror characters SHOULD have done

resurrection................... GOD well. i wish jlc couldve done the whole thing but she didnt. and mike gets electrocuted in da balls by Busta Rhymes so thats really all there is to that one

now on the rob zombie shit. asides from the EXTREME amount of nudity and sex scenes in that shit, asides from all the other things that dont work w those movies, THE THING THAT IRKS ME IS THAT HE TRIED TO REMAKE JASON. he tried to make michael into a hulking sympathetic giant with an abusive childhood who can talk to his mothers vision and is heavily motivated by his grief trauma and emotions like. We Literally Already Have Jason Thank You. myers is meant to be some batshit 5'10 dude completely off his gourd and ASIDES FROM ALL THE WEIRD MISOGYNY AND VIOLENCE of the rzs, they just do a shitty job of recharacterizing mike

AND LASTLY THE 2018 TRILLOGY..... ok so 2018 was solid. kinda dumb, but we get laurie for the lesbians and bald asf myers. kinda stupid asf to be hyping him up if they're picking up right after the first one, and im bummed they didnt keep the sibling plot, but whatever

KILLS, however. this movie is true to its name and has good kill scenes but thats ALL i can say in its favor. it's muddled commentary on mob mentality and policy brutality completely overshadow any point it may have made about ableism within the horror genre and it ultimately ends up advocating for the police to murder unarmed citizens while simultaneously being extremely preachy in condoning mob violence, encouraging the public to leave things to the cops and encouraging cops to be more violent. BUT: mike takes out all those firefighters and it fucks hard so its ur call to balance

and u want 2 hear what i think abt mike..... ugh i luv u ok. so ive said it before and ill say it again i LOVE two dimensional evil characters who are just SHITTY and villainous and nothing behind their eyes. but since michaels establishment in the very first film, we are given too much of his background to properly categorize him as one of the above. this is a medically abused severely drugged young adult breaking out of a decade and a half of serious trauma and going off the shits one night; one can hardly take a character one meets as a helpless child and condemn it to the label of monster. my design and interpretation of michael are heavily based on my experience with mental illness because, when u really boil him down, he is a mentally ill person who was never given the help he needed and was in fact exploited, abused, and mistreated, and went off the rails bc of it. its largely a critique of the medical field: i hate doctors. the way i see michael is as literally just some guy, some complete rando, who was dealt shitty mental health at a young age, handed over to abusers, and was able to achieve the catharsis and vindication of becoming the monster theyd told him he was bc. well i love rage killing and excessive violence lol

deep sigh anyway thank u SO much 4 asking dont take any of this as law and make sure to formulate ur own opinions ofc donate a billion dollars to ur local mentally ill person AND REMEMBER: horror movies is for laughing and going "AH!" and thats all there is 2 it.

[aceofspadegrass]

Ace!!

Can u make a fic about the aib characters first time fasting for at least one day? Since it's ramadhan and all 😅

(Of course you could add yourself and Niragi's-right-hand-rabbit there too :D)

Fasting (And How to Miserably Fail at it)

Characters: Aguni Morizono, Hatter (Mentioned a lot but never actually there), Niragi, Arisu, @a-simp-20, @niragis-right-hand-rabbit, and Me :)

Genre: Just a little crack. An itty bitty amount.

1k words

Well, I certainly tried my best here! Hope you like it buddy. :)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“ What the fuck you mean we can’t eat today?” Niragi shouts, slamming his hands on the wood as he glares at his boss. Aguni stares at him with a tired expression, then shuts them as he rubs the bridge of his nose.

“ Look, nobody could find any food or drinks in the kitchens. Or anywhere. It seems to have all disappeared. There was a note though sitting in the fridge.” Aguni gestures to the folded card that laid in the center of the table, Niragi glaring at it like it ate his gun and called him a wet sack of digested seaweed. Chishiya leans over and picks it up, opening it with a mild expression as he scans over the contents.

“ So our food and drinks will be returned in a day?”

“ It seems so.” Aguni answers. He glances around at the other executives plus Arisu, the young man just prodding a sleeping Catra. Hatter, the main boss, was absolutely nowhere to be seen, leaving Aguni to run this meeting. Of course, he knew where he was, holed up in his fancy schmancy room doing who knows what in there. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was just taking the longest jacuzzi bath known to man before spending the rest of it dancing to the Queen soundtrack.

But that’s besides the point. Aguni dismisses everyone, going their own separate ways to deal with the sudden lack of food. Aguni knew better than to make anyone exert themselves too much when there was nothing to really pump up the energy for the day, so besides the basic patrol he was letting everyone take it easy.

… As easy as possible, anyways. It doesn’t take long for the sounds of gunshots to echo above him, Niragi likely taking his frustrations out on the world for not letting him feed. The better question was how the food and drinks managed to disappear in the first place. Hell, even the pool was mysteriously empty, as if whoever or whatever planned this out made sure nobody would even think about any loopholes.

“ Hey, boss, the faucets aren’t running either. People are complaining they can’t shower or bathe. I’m gonna go ask for someone to check the boiler room.” A militant tells him as they approach him in the halls. Aguni just nods and lets them walk away, mentally taking note. Whatever this was, it was on such a grand scale to remove any thought of obtaining anything to drink. It was such a strange phenomenon. But there was no solution that he could think of. Of course, they could try to send more people outside the Beach for anything, but the initial drives have already turned up nothing of use.

He ends up in the lobby of the Beach, and notices Arisu chatting to someone. Someone all too familiar. He marches up, and the woman looks to him, smiling and giving a small wave.

“ Hi again!”

“ You. What are you doing back here?”

Arisu pipes up before she could, also smiling. “ She came by to tell us to have a nice fast!”

“ A… fast?” Aguni tilts his eyebrow up. The woman nods happily.

“ Yes! From sunrise to sundown for Ramadan we Muslims fast, which means no eating or drinking for that entire time! I thought it would be fun if you guys got to try it out too!”

“ So our supplies…”

“ Got stolen by my friends.” She admits, still beaming. Aguni grumbles, a headache starting to form.

“ And… how, exactly?”

She doesn’t answer, just giggles a little. “ Don’t worry, we’ll put it back when sunset comes around. Just a few more hours! Okay see you later Aguni! Bye Arisu!” With that, she walks away with a pep in her step, Arisu waving at her before he turns to Aguni.

“ It’s can’t be that bad, right?”

—

Wrong. It was bad. 

Aguni groans as he stares at the group Beach members ( He has no clue who any of them are, much less their names) already going crazy over the lack of food and water below his position on the upper floor, and accusing and attacking each other over it. Of course, Aguni could have just told everyone, or grab his man from his seclusion to announce it to everyone, but then he was dragged away by other militants to help dispose of some bodies, as well as help one of them dig out some grenades that fell into someone’s drain. Either way, now he had to deal with even more chaos, and even the presence of the Big Bag Militants wasn’t enough to scare them away. He’s pretty sure any longer and someone’s gonna pull out the fire card. Gunshots eventually just rings out, Niragi and his little gun squad all just yelling and scattering the members that miraculously didn’t get shot away, although their voices seemed much more irritated than ever before. At least they haven’t gone equally as crazy, or that anyone hasn’t tried anything…. too drastic. It’d be mayhem, and even he’s not sure if Hatter would try to stop anyone from making use of a body.

In the meantime, he was just going to go on another round of patrol, maybe take a fat nap later. Hatter can come out and deal with the day himself if he needed to.

A few hours later at sundown -

“ So…. the Beach burned down?”

Chloe nods, taking a long sip of the stolen soda she stole. “ Yep! Apparently nobody was happy we got rid of all the liquids and food.”

Ila frowns. “ I even told them to have a nice fasting….”

Ace just giggles, air patting her from atop the car. “ Don’t worry! At least we did it with you! Not our fault a bunch of adults went a little mad.”

“ So… how did you steal all the pool water anyways?” Ila asks, Chloe and Ace just grinning a little too maniacally.

“ So you know what a vacuum is, right?~”

“ And what an elephant does, riiiight?~"

“ I-“

[essaysbyciara]

It’s Been A Long Time | Nebraska Williams x Black!PlusSize Reader [Part 1/?]

Warnings: language, smut thoughts (my ministry!)

So this has been in my drafts for a *HOT MINUTE* but that photo of Trevante in high school triggered a release. If people dig where it could be going, I will add it to my list of stuff to finish and open up a taglist. I’ll try my best to do so, I promise! lol

“God, I played this album out…” Lil’ Wayne’s seminal album, The Carter, didn’t age at all. Back in 2004, Wayne was a secret about to bubble over to superstardom, just years shy of lollipops and Static Major (rest in peace). Wayne represented the teenage angst of your time, even though you toiled in the suburbs while he wrestled with the streets. But as “On My Own” damn near explodes your factory speakers, a high pitch ping from your phone pauses your trip down memory lane. 

Message from Sheena: Let’s catch up before the babies wake up. 

You hit the call button on your dash once you stop at a red light. 

“Girl, hey. You on your way to work?”

“Ain’t I always, Shi Shi? Damn near almost overslept. Thought I missed my flight.” 

Sheena, or Shi Shi, is the epitome of a best-friend-forever. You two met in Ms. Grayson’s civics class, 11th grade. On the first day of school, you rolled into third period wearing a Scream Tour II t-shirt and if you were to describe Sheena in that moment, jealous wasn’t even the word.  She stanned hard for Lil’ Bow Wow but her mom wouldn’t let her go to the concert because she got caught with a boy in her room. That boy is now the husband half-way responsible for the twin girls she’s hoping will give her some grace by sleeping a little bit longer. 

“Damn. You wanna gift some of that sleep to these twins, God mommy?”

“Only if you gift me some of those post-pregnancy boobs, Mommy Dearest,”

“Can’t do that. Jarell been having too much fun with those!” 

“Girl, eww. I don’t need to know all that.”

You kinda did. Sheena’s stories were always live, wild and uncut. And the only fireworks you’ve been adjacent to in months since you broke up with that lame stockbroker, Keith. You curve around the airport parking lot as Sheena starts digging deep into her latest soft-core episode with her husband since the six weeks ain’t up yet. In between interjections of how nasty Jarrell could be and watching planes taxi in the distance, you cruise through Instagram to take inventory of what your day might be like. 

Managing social media for the biggest sports publication in the country was not the fulfillment of a dream after high school because, shit,  social media didn’t exist when you were in high school. But it’s what has you just hours away from a flight to the NFL Combine in Indianapolis, sitting in a parking lot, listening to your BFF’s slow burn sexcapades. You break up the audio immersion experience once your timeline displays something else to ruminate over.

“Sheena! Shi -- shut up! I can’t believe - you remember Lisa from high school? She got married ...and it ain’t to Brasco.” 

“Whaaaa… you can finally stop making u-turns in the hallway and snag your man!”

You didn’t appreciate the lowly dig from your friend about Nebraska “Brasco” Williams, star running back, track champion and boy so fine he made both Omarion and J-Boog look like ogres. Your high school crush had you shook to your pubescent core; pretty teeth, deep skin tone and two tattoos before the age of eighteen. You’d see him in the student parking lot with the rest of the football team and you’d rush to your car as if it would go home without you. He was too hot to handle. You were beyond envious that Lisa could. 

“Lisa ain’t do too bad. Her man is crazy fine. I mean, not Brasco fine but still…” 

“Man,  he had high school going crazy. I wonder what happened to him after that fight? I should stalk him on Facebook while I pump.” You laugh so hard, the couple walking past your car stops their argument to stare at you. 

Your laughs break once you realize you might actually miss that flight. You relegate Shi Shi to kiss the twins for you and to send his Facebook profile if she can actually find it. You tried years ago and failed. 

“Aight, fave. I will.  Love you. Text me when you touch down in Indy.” 

As you weave through the terminal, your mind thinks back to the days at New Birth High School. While it brought you joy in a forever friend and the launching point for your forever career in sports journalism, it did bring you one of the most hurtful days of your life that took years to shake. 

It was the summer going into your senior year. Lisa’s sweet sixteen pool party. No way in Hell you thought you’d be there but your Mom and Lisa’s stepmom sat on the same deacon board at church and somehow thought you two were friends; Lisa paid you dust in those hallways. You fretted over every part of your outfit, especially the swim shoes you didn’t want but your Dad picked up at Sports Authority. But you were fretting the most over your swimsuit, a red one-piece with a deep open back. It was sexy for a 16-year-old, to be honest, but you secretly tried it on at the mall and fell in love with it -- especially how it made you feel. 

You fell in deep love with your body that day. The way the swimsuit clenched your waist, giving your almost-pear shape some definition you’d never seen before. Your hips sat wide, your breast placed taunt, just peeking through the sides, showing off a crescent shaped birthmark right below your collarbone. It was Jet Beauty of the Week-esque and it made you feel on top of the world. Something that society kept telling you a plus-size teenage girl was not to feel. You used the last of your paper route money to buy it and hid your secret weapon in the back of your closet until the day arrived. You were hoping to get some boy’s attention -- especially Brasco. But you’d take anybody’s glare if you could get it. 

You were in the clear once your Mom dropped you and Sheena both off at Lisa’s back gate. As you walked into the party, the sounds of the local hip-hop and R&B radio station blasted throughout her huge backyard. So much fun was had -- so much splash and dash -- that the faint sounds of “Knuck If You Buck” failed to erupt a party full of teenagers it was made for. The pool seemed tempting in 90-plus heat but most of the temptation came from the jacuzzi next to it. There inside sat Brasco, his lanky on-field wide receiver sidekick Kenny and Jarell, Sheena’s partner-in-bedroom-bust crime looking delicious in their highlighter-color swim trunks. You were still figuring out your body and the reactions conjured up from the sight of water droplets chasing down their backs confused you even more. But the heat of the sun -- and the heat from your body -- got too much to bear. That pool called your name. 

You stripped off your t-shirt and denim shorts, leaving your swim shoes back by the picnic table. They clashed. Your nerves splashed together like the water you couldn’t wait to feel, battering against your heart. Were you ready for all this attention? Amongst the rest of the classmates, you disappeared. You weren’t popular. People knew of you but didn’t know you, only associating you with Sheena by proxy of Jarell. “My Goodies” came on the radio, providing you a soundtrack and a sign from God. Before you could answer the call, Sheena jumped into the pool. You tossed your glasses on top of your clothes and did the same. 

The water felt golden. Sheena smacked your face with sheets of chlorinated goodness. Too much fun was had by all, even Lisa joined in the fun. Suddenly the entire football team did too except Brasco and Jarell, languishing on the edge of the jacuzzi because like most boys from their side of town, they didn’t know how to swim. Lisa saw her boo in isolation and tapped Sheena on the shoulder. 

“Hey, Shi Shi. Let’s get in the jacuzzi.” Sheena grabbed your hand to guide you out of the pool. You weren’t expecting to see your Mom at the other end. Sheena didn’t grab you to join her in the warm bubbles, she got you out at the angry-faced-behest of your mother. You both were going home. The party silenced and stares followed as everyone watched your walk-of-shame to grab your clothes. You got what you wanted in the worst way possible. 

Your unholy exodus commenced when Lisa’s mom called yours to report what she saw: this red bathing suit too revealing for a little girl to wear. It wasn’t the green ruffled mess-of-a-bathing-suit from last year. She claimed to witness stares and whispers and “boobs hanging out, butt all out.” Your mom got over there quicker than a church shout. She waited to scold you after she dropped off Sheena. 

It was a Sunday School scolding like no other. Tears pooled deep like the one you were just having fun in. You tossed the bathing suit into the trash bin. You were never going to see it again. 

The announcement of your flight breaks you out of your day nightmare. Grabbing the handle on your suitcase, you see a text with an attachment from Sheena. 

Girllllllllllll. I found Brasco and babyyyyyyyyyyy… 

You gasp. Time did a wonder on him in all the right ways. He packed on even more muscle, chiseling out the navy thermal dressing his upper body. Teeth still bright, Moonlight-bright. His Omarion-Pandemonium-era braids were gone, now donning a clean fade with perfect waves. His stance meant business, a lot of it risky. You bite your lower lip to mask the “damn!” urging a release from you, staring at his picture so intensely that you damn near walk into the stewardess checking your boarding pass. 

You couldn’t wait to get to your first-class seat. You needed a safe space to drown in your own splash waterfalls. You beg Sheena to send you his profile, looking to make some more of that mess and she obliges. Scrolling through his Facebook, you see nothing. You needed him to match your uncleanliness. Another text from Sheena breaks you out of your spell. 

Ain’t shit on here though. I can’t find an Instagram or anything. That’s where the dirt is at lol 

You put your social media skills to work. Ain’t an Instagram profile that you can’t find. Nebraska Williams brings up nothing. Such a unique name and nothing to show for it. 

Maybe Jarell can follow him, Shi. 

Jarell ain’t on this thing. He hates all this stuff. You want me to follow him? 

Girl, yes! I need more pictures! I’m trying to find his ‘gram and no diceeeeeee. Ughhhh. 

Damn the “no cell phone until after lift off” announcement. You then try “Brasco”, too many names -- rappers, really--  and a dog company to boot. “Brasco Williams” yields no results. You couldn’t wait what could be hours, days,  weeks, maybe never, for a response from Brasco to Sheena’s friend request. 

You pull up Google as a last ditch effort. The results bring up what only seems to be archives from your now-defunct city newspaper covering one of Nebraska’s record-setting games from 2005. You know to quit while you’re ahead until you see a Youtube video: “Nebraska Williams (RB) New Birth High School (MD). uploaded by Donyell Williams. You remember Donyell as this boy who played too damn much in Geometry class but right now, he’s Brasco’s cousin who's Instagram profile came up on the first search. Thank God his profile wasn’t private. You scroll back far enough to hit the jackpot. 

I found it! @donniebrascowill is his Instagram. 

Sheena was right about the dirt. His posts were bare but his stories carried enough. Enough shirtless, weightlifting, fresh-out-the-barbershop-got-to-show-you-the-fade dirt. You hit the follow button before the stewardess asked for your drink selection. 

End of Part I