#my grammar ass..

[gamsdoodles]

Told yall i’d be back.

[slasherscream]

Hello Bee! First I want to say that I really love your writing and your characterization of the characters. I've read so much of your stuff over and over again, it's so good! Thank you so much for writing it all!

Secondly, I wanted to make a request. Sorry if this sounds dumb, but could you please make a crazy ass husbands with an artisitic s/o? Like someone who may not necessarily create art, but is really passionate about like painting, and music, and just all the types of art? I saw you added Vincent Sinclair and thought of this 😄.

If not its fine, I still want you to know that I adore and enjoy your writing! Well wishes! 🩷🩷

Qimir (the acolyte) - Qimir likes the way you get carried away by music. The way you close your eyes when you walk into a cantina and musicians are playing. The little songs you hum to yourself when you’re piloting the ship, or fixing something. Music awakens something in your soul. You feel it deeply. Love songs and tragic laments alike light a fire in you. Every now and again he’ll have the two of you go to planets known for their music, their unique sounds, and singing styles. It’s always under a false pretense. The training or mission he sends you on are usually extra grueling before you’re given your “reward”. Otherwise, he feels like a slave to the whims of your joy. What wouldn’t he do to see you smile? To relish your little gasp the first time you hear a new instrument or song? He likes to reach out, using the connection you two share, and feel what you feel. He’s so glad he freed you from your shackles of repression. The way you indulge your passion is beautiful. 

Norman Bates - You’ve always loved flowers. The first thought you had about the motel was that it needed some nice flowers outside. You’ve traveled the country, visiting all sorts of gardens. It’s an odd hobby, but one you chased relentlessly. Until you met Norman, and settled into the hotel with him. But eventually you start to crave those gardens again, so you decide for the first time not to just admire gardens, but to cultivate one. There are a few false starts. Miserable failures. Mixed successes. But Norman is encouraging every step of the way, and eventually your little motel begins to shine. Ivy creeping up trellises you place against the house. Roses, peonies, lavender, poppies. All in ranges of colors and sizes. You repaint the motel when it begins to look shabby in comparison to the garden blooming around it. For the first time the motel starts to look… welcoming. Like a true home. People in town begin to stop by and spend the night just so they can have breakfast in the garden the next morning. People propose to each other at the Bates Motel. Get married there. Honeymoon. Have the celebrations for their baby’s christening among all your flowers and saplings. Norman doesn’t have a green thumb, but he brings you lemonade and kisses your cheek and thanks you earnestly for bringing color and life into his world. 

Hannibal Lecter - This is one of the ways you and Hannibal bond. You could talk about art for hours together. He’s a wonderful conversationalist, and your raw passion for the topic makes it so that you always have something new to say to one another. Date nights consist of going to art galleries for big and small artists. Something about being in one another’s presence sweetens the art itself. Hannibal often surprises you with trips to other countries just so you can go to their art museums and partake in new art scenes. Money is a small thing to Hannibal. The conversations you have about art? Those are priceless. 

Shane Walsh - He’s never been too interested in the arts. Not before the end of the world and certainly not after it. The only art that matters now is the art of survival. He tells you this often. Tells you to look to the future. Focus on surviving the day. On perfecting the skills he tries to teach you, day in and day out, so even if he’s gone, you’ll be okay. But you make him soft. For all that he bitches, he’s always giving in. Always looking to keep you alive, yes. But he wants you to be happy too. So he takes detours, and looks for libraries and bookstores that are beginning to cave in on themselves and smell of rotten pages and wood. He’s risked entire hoards of walkers to retrieve a book he knew was your favorite. He doesn’t mind when precious bag space is taken up by whatever paperbacks you can get your hands on. One day he might find a town that he likes enough and decide to go through the trouble of turning a library into a home for you. It will be well fortified, and he won’t like how many entry and exit points it might have. But he’d love to see you in your element, surrounded by what you love. 

V (from V for Vendetta) - So much art has been ruthlessly crushed beneath the boot of the fascist government you live under. Admiring the arts, any form of it, is like trying to hold sand in your hands. Your grip grows ever more desperate to hold onto anything. But there is no rhyme or reason to what is outlawed or taken away. Little bits of your soul are chipped away, with each new restriction, with each new burning or banning. Until V whisks you away to his hideout, and suddenly the world is made anew again. You are surrounded by art, art you didn’t even know existed. Things you couldn’t imagine in your wildest dreams. You inhale everything the gallery has to offer. You feel nearly gluttonous. In each room there is something new to see, hear, read. A feast for your senses anywhere you turn. You feel alive for the first time in years, maybe ever. V, in turn, feels his own form of gluttony. He cherishes every bit of delight he brings to your world. He feels like the worst kind of miser. The lowest of villains. What could be more precious than your smile? Or your laughter? Nothing. And by keeping you here, with him, he deprives the world of you and all you have to offer. But the world isn’t kind to precious things. So he keeps you like all the other treasures of this world. Hidden. Safe. Loved. 

Candyman - You collect book nook shelf inserts. Your home is covered in shelves, just to fit them. You have more book nooks than you do books separating them. Daniel is charmed to death by the collection. By the tender, diligent way you take care of them all. You spend hours of your week dusting. Fiddling. Making tiny adjustments. There must be something meditative about it, because you never complain. The joy he felt whenever he held a paintbrush is the same joy that flashes across your face when you open a new kit. He watches you assemble your precious, miniature worlds and ask you quiet questions, every now and again. He doesn’t want to break you from the beautiful trance you fall into, but he loves to peek into your mind. “What drew you to this scene, my love?” / “This one has an enchanting gloom to it. You have such an eye for art.” / “This one looks especially fragile, you might have to be more gentle, love.” He enjoys watching you lose yourself in your hobby. He loves the way you are unashamed in your joy. How you take pride in this work. You curl up into his side, after you’ve spent hours assembling one of your nooks, and the two of you will stare at it in all its completed glory. 

Robert Neville (I Am Legend) - At first he thought you were a hallucination. He’d been hearing things more often. Seeing things too. The human mind wasn’t built for isolation, as a scientist he was well aware of that. He tries to compensate as best he can. With his mannequins. With entertainment. By focusing on his research. He only has to stay sane long enough to fix the world he couldn’t save. That’s all. But then he sees you, while he’s hunting. The sun is still high in the sky, and you don’t move like a dark seeker. You’re cautious, slow. You also don’t move like a hallucination. You don’t really look like one either. He almost doesn’t approach you, afraid he’ll discover you were a mirage. He follows you all day long, until the sun is getting too low for comfort. Then Robert approaches you, fumbling through the obvious (it isn’t safe out here), barely remembering to introduce himself because people have names. Hoping desperately that you’ll trust a strange man instead of taking your chances with the dark. But the entire time he talks to you his eyes keep drifting to all the jewelry you’re wearing. Earrings. Bracelets. Necklaces. Rings. They glint in the light. Hypnotizing in their imperfections and intricacies. You move into his home, but you two drift around each other like ghosts. You’ve been alone so long, the both of you. You dreamed of meeting another living person. But faced with the reality of it, you’re overwhelmed. Until one night after dinner he finds you in the living room, making more of your jewelry. Slow and careful. He asks you about it, and you tell him it kept you sane while you were alone. Made you feel human. Then you look up at him, and he freezes under your gaze. (It’s been so long since he’s looked into someone’s eyes. It almost hurts. He can’t imagine ever looking away.) You ask him what kept him human. He’s not sure he still is. But he moves to sit beside you on the floor, hands you beads, and tells you he's been pretty fond of movies lately. 

Lestat De Lioncourt - You were a tailor in life, before he turned you. In death, in this eternity he’s given you, fabric is nearly your religion. With your vampiric eyes, you see even the tiniest flaw in stitching. All colors look more vibrant. The world looks more alive. Even though you can never see the way certain fabrics and colors catch the light of the sun, moonlight and starlight can be just as beautiful. You drag him to fashion shows in order to soak in the new styles, and cuts of clothing. You are as endeared by couture as you are the various counter cultures that arise throughout the decades you spend together. You spend exorbitant amounts of money on the finest bolts of cloth and thread. Sewing and tailoring and designing can be done entirely on your own. In fact, you’d probably be done quicker if you were just left to your work. But Lestat gets lonely when you lock yourself up in your work room for days on end. He likes to drape himself against your back, push himself into your side. Trail teasing fingers up your arm, to see if he can get your ever steady hands to falter (he cannot.) Looking over your shoulders and seeing what latest fashion has caught your eye is his hobby. You don’t mind the company of your muse. Sometimes you even sit him in front of you as you sew, and let the sound of him talking guide your needle and thread. He hardly wears anything you don’t make. Not only is your work superior, but every piece is made of love. 

Abe Sapien - You love everything about movies. How they’re made. Sound design. Light design. Set design. The difference between digital and film cameras. Abe was caught in your orbit the minute you were recruited. Talking to you, trying to form a connection, however, did not come as easy. Awkward nods as you passed one another in the hall. Stilted, dry conversation as you ate lunch at the same tables. It was enough to drive him mad. He didn’t know why he alone was unable to form any sort of acquaintanceship with you (especially when he wanted far more than that). This all changed during movie night. You were watching the voted on film play out on screen, entranced by every individual frame, it seemed. He’d never seen anyone smile so fetchingly, or blink so little. He bravely, and quietly, asked if you were enjoying the film. You began to eagerly whisper to him all sorts of details about how the film was made, the difference between the final product and script. Apparently, it was one of your favorites. With one conversation, the bridge between you two was crossed. Abe had been so caught up in enjoying literature, he hadn't explored much of the diverse realm of cinema. Happily, you appointed yourself the esteemed position as his guide. Somewhere between sharing your tastes, late night discussions, and dry eyes from sleepless nights, you leaned over to kiss him. He kissed you back, and you both forgot all about movies for a little while. 

Vincent Sinclair - You were an avid admirer of sculptures. You went to museums, and had to curl your hands into fists to resist the urge to reach out and touch the statues. There was something so beautiful about someone taking the time to carve human shapes out of stone and earth. To make marble resemble fabric as delicate as silk. It was breathtaking to you, really. Until you came across the House of Wax, you hadn’t really thought of wax as a means to make sculptures. Instantly, you are captivated. You forget that your car is being “repaired”, so closely do you look at every sculpture. You admire each one from several angles, for long periods of time, face giving away nothing. Vincent watches you, wanting to know what you’re thinking about his art so desperately he feels as if he’ll die. He interrupts Bo from the preparations to kill you and makes him ask you questions. Bo asks each one through gritted teeth, irritated to be playing a game of telephone, but even he is a little charmed by your thoughtful answers. When Vincent insists on not killing you Bo just shakes his head and washes his hands of the situation. You fall asleep in the town’s only motel, but when you wake up you’re in Vincent’s workshop. You’ll be able to admire his art for as long as you like now. 

Joel Miller - You tell him stories. You’re an avid collector of them. Wherever you go, you collect a story from someone. Sometimes they’re fantastical. Some myth or aesop fables that will be lost to the sands of time and the chaos of the apocalypse within just one more generation (if humanity makes it that long.) Other times they’re heartbreakingly real. The taste of an apple pie someone’s grandmother used to make for them. The memory of someone trying on their wedding dress for the first time. You have a way about you. It’s your eyes. The warmth in them. The understanding. Even after so many years of survival and fighting, you possess an empathy that should have gotten you killed by now. Instead you’re the keeper of people’s stories. You’ll be riding side by side on your horses, and Joel won’t sense any danger nearby, so he’ll say the magic words: You got a story for me today, L/N? And you always do. The sound of your voice keeps his head quiet. 

A/N: i blushed bugs bunny curled ears style. thank you for the compliments, made my day! i think yours is the first crazy ass husbands gang request i’ve written! if you enjoyed these headcanons consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writer's fuel is engagement. Xoxoxo

[that0nenpc]

After Forsaken c00lkidd

The reason why he has scars/stitch marks on his arms and neck (including his torso and legs) is that when they were still in forsaken, which when the Spectre "modified" his body and it was doing this operation while c00lkidd was still awake. c00lkidd has nightmares about killing the survivors and when he was getting "modified" but he's okay now.

[s735]

[atlasofoverthinking]

The Problem with the League of Villains

this is just me ranting after reading many people say that the lov deserved a better ending (i agree with them don't worry). most of that stuff has already been said but i'm bored and need something to write

so why is everyone disappointed?

by definition, an antagonist is someone that goes against the main character(s) and a villain is someone who does immoral and/or illegal things (wow, shocking)

so by definition, the league of villains is aptly named. shigaraki and dabi are mass murderers, toga is a killer too, and even if the others are 'less dangerous' they're all guilty of terorism and kidnapping a teenager.

not nice, right? then why would anyone would want them to have a good ending?

long story short: horikoshi made the league too sympathetic and relatable

when horikoshi has decided to make them funny, he's decided to make them likeable. that's not enough though. you can find a fictional villain funny and not root for them (for some reason the examples that comes to my mind are the disney villains. captain hook is hilarious but no one wants him to win)

the cause of everyone's disappointment is the relatable part. everyone in the league has gone through stuff viewers can relate. touya, shigaraki and toga have been abused; twice has mental health issues (and stuggling to get a job is relatable too lmao); spinner has been discriminated against... you get the idea

and even without knowing their backstory, most of the league's fights can be considered noble: they want to change society and make the world a better place. to take a more precise example, the league kidnapped bakugou because they thought he had gone through similar struggle as them

(this is mr compress talking in chapter 85) as far as i've seen, most of the fandom either think bakugou being chained and muzzled at the end of the sport festival was just comic relief or agree that it was fucked up

so yeah, you can't put a group of people rejected by society, who just want a better world and expect people to not like them

and that's why their ending is disappointing (the rest contains heavy spoilers of the last few chapters of mha)

they're all either in jail or six feet underground. we rationally could understand it, they're all criminals/villains so of course they wouldn't get a happy ending and face consequences for their actions. the only one who could have gotten away with it is shigaraki because of all the grooming/brainwashing he's gone through and maybe toga because she's a child

but if you relate to a character, you want them to get a happy ending. of course fans would want dabi to be at peace, but instead he's forced to spend his last moments being stared at by his abuser). of course fans would want shigaraki to be free from afo (but instead his only freedom was death). of course fans would want toga to be understood and cared for (but she never had that opportunity)

that's not very 'save to win' out of you horikoshi

maybe it's just a shortcut made by the fandom, but the league are seen more as victims of abuse than actual criminals. i mean, what's more important in dabi's story? the fact that he burned himself alive after overworking himself to get his abusive father's attention, or the fact that he's burned people alive? probably both, but there's more focus on the first element.

and obviously we would want abuse victims to get a happy ending

basically, their ending isn't coherent with what we've seen of them, and that's why people are disappointed

btw, the same logic applies to stain. some fans agree with stain's reasoning bc he's fighting against corruption. of course, his logic is stupid and he's delusional but he's introduced not long after we've discovered shouto's past. you can't say "one of the most popular heroes is abusing + all he wants is to get n°1 to satisfy his own ego" and then follow with "see that guy fighting against corruption? he's bad, don't do that"

the clever way to make sure no one would agree with stain would have been to make the heroes fight against injustice with good methods. i live for the fanfics in which izuku takes down the hpsc

okay i'm done ranting thanks for reading

[achilrou]

[Swap! AU - from @aster-may ] - here

Liu design I made if he was a DV7

Click for quality!

-

Bonuses:

Mr. Suitcase Briefcase

Liu hides his bag under his coat to "reduce" suspicion. The bag contains.. you guessed it— Mr. Briefcase! Where did the name Mr. Suitcase go, you ask? Blame Dr. Mala! For he says, "The origin of that name shall be no more, and covered with a new idenity", fully replacing with a similar name from that. Dr. Mala isn't very good at inventing like Liu is, so he asked Liu to reconstruct Mr. Briefcase on scratch based on his imagination.

(Mr. Briefcase, currently, somewhat launches objects out of his endless inventory when asked. He doesn't bite.)

Short doodle:

[honeythegoat]

Jax's ear continues to rest in pieces

Jax continues to suffer

[venuszn]

☆ : 100 Days

Summary / Bada asks you to give her one hundred days to make you fall in love with her.

Cw / Best friends to lovers, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Fingering, Nipple play, Cunnilingus (Bada and reader give and receive), Scissoring, Dom!Bada, Fem!reader, Emotionally constipated reader, Whipped Bada, MDNI

Author’s note / Thank you for 100 followers ahhhh ! This is my gift from me to all of you. Thank you for liking and reading my fics ! I took inspiration from the movie ‘500 Days of Summer’ and mayhaps a little bit of dialogue inspo from the Netflix show ‘Queen Charlotte’ - if you can spot it then great. I hope you enjoy and as always feel free to let me know your thoughts 💗

Wc / 8.5K words

Day 7

Bada took your hand into hers, locking her fingers inbetween your own. The warmness and firmness of your hands together gave you an unfamiliar feeling as the taller girl walked ahead of you, shopping basket in one hand and you on her other as she snaked her way through the busy aisles muttering small ‘excuse me’’s and ‘thank you’’s as she went. You let Bada guide you and your gaze fell to meet her hand as it protectively gripped yours. You brushed the feeling off, deciding that it was normal - you were friends after all. It’s normal to feel certain emotions around your friends, especially friends who held your hand with such care and warmth as Bada did. It was a simple and cute gesture, that's all it was - cute. Nothing more.

“I don’t know why this has to be a two person job. I could have done the shopping, Bada.” You said as you both finally emerged from the chaos of people around you, your brows slightly furrowed at the busyness around you. Bada adjusted her speed and walked beside you, feet matching your pace and hand remaining firmly in yours. 

She looked down at you with a small smile, “Well, this is what couples do,” she said your name with a hint of amusement at your small frown. “They go shopping together. It’s cute and it’s domestic.” 

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Right, sure. Well, you don’t need to keep on holding my hand. I’m not a baby.”

Bada let go of your hand as she reached to add another item into the basket. She didn’t make a move to reconnect your hands but teased, "I could argue that you actually are my baby now.” You scoffed and jokingly smacked her arm and she laughed.

The cold breeze brushed against your once warm hand and you slightly missed the feeling.

As you walked Bada cleared her throat, “I know you’re used to being independent - doing everything by yourself. But you have me now, so let me be here for you.”

Your eyes fell to the floor as you digested her words. You knew you had your defences up. Your walls were impenetrable towers and Bada had made it her mission to scale upwards in hopes of reaching the top. She was prepared to defeat any fiery beast, whether it be of doubt and fear, that guarded you. Bada wanted to rescue you. 

You said nothing but reached for her hand, eyes avoiding her direction as you took a hold of her palm in yours. You then muttered, “My hand was cold.”

Bada gazed down at you, a small smile on her lips as she adored you. She thought that you were the most adorable thing ever as she raised your intertwined hands and pressed her lips gently against the back of yours. 

“You’re so cute.”

You felt a strange feeling rise up your body and your face felt warm. You ignored it and followed your instinct - to deflect.

“And you’re obsessed with me.” 

Bada chuckled and squeezed your hand gently.

“Wasn’t it obvious ?”

Day 0

You stumbled through the front door, heels in one hand and bag in the other as you managed to twist the handle open with your elbow - a talent you had perfected due to your frequent walks of shame. Although, ‘shame’ wasn’t what you usually felt after such encounters. Sex was nothing but transactional to you, you had sexual needs that needed to be met and then you would repay the favour. You had mastered the act of separating your emotions from intimacy in all forms - especially romantic relationships. However, this time you did feel a little bit of shame and perhaps a little bit of rage as you kicked the door shut with the back of your foot before your body fell slack against it in defeat. 

Your tired eyes scanned the apartment, there was no sign of your roommate apart from a steaming cup of herbal tea that sat on the kitchen island waiting for you. You smiled to yourself at how attentive she always was toward you. She always did small gestures like this, despite not being in support of your nightly escapades, she always made sure you came home to your go-to hangover relief. You dropped your bag and heels and made your way over to sit down before a distant voice you recognised called your name.

You turned to see your roommate, Bada Lee, as she speedwalked down the hallway to you. “You’re home. Good morning.” She quickly greeted with a small smile as she hurriedly beelined around your shared apartment, picking up her keys and then putting on her trainers. 

“Good morning. Yes, I'm home. Thank goodness.”

Bada paused in her actions as she heard your words. “What happened ?” 

You laughed dryly before taking a sip of your tea. “She had a girlfriend this entire time.” 

It almost sounded like a cruel joke hearing yourself say it.

“Fuck. How did you find out ?”

“Long story short - I was hooking up with a sleazebag that couldn't go two weeks without sex. So she decided to lie and say she was single whilst her girlfriend was actually away visiting family . . . I feel like shit.” You groaned into your palm before running your fingers through your hair.

Bada walked over and sat beside you.

“I hope you know that’s not your fault.”

“I feel like I should have been more aware. This is exactly why I don’t do relationships - it gets messy. I should have cut it off after the first couple nights like I usually do, but I got comfortable thinking we could also be friends.”

Bada stared at your deflated frame and internally prayed for the moment that you would finally notice her. She had been by your side ever since you both met a couple years ago in college and had become roomies. You both became inseparable; but she saw you in a light which you did not reflect with her - she was in love with you but you had an aversion to the emotion. 

“Anyways,” you said, pulling her out of her thoughts. “You have somewhere to be don’t you ? I don’t want to make you late.”

Bada immediately interjected, “It can wait. It’s fine, if you need me to stay I will.”

“Go, Bada. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.” You said as you stood up and gave her shoulder a squeeze as you walked past her. “I’ll be going to sleep now anyway. See you later.” 

Bada watched you leave - a recurring pattern that she was becoming sick of. She was sick of watching you leave to go and spend the night with other people. She was sick of watching you leave to go and isolate yourself. You had your walls high up and you only ever depended on yourself - nobody else. But Bada knew that you deserved better. She knew that you could be happy with the right person. 

So she decided that she would take a chance and try to be that person for you.

Later that evening, you found yourself on the couch in your bestfriends arms as you cuddled, her arms wrapped around you from behind and you both laid there - a gesture that wasn’t unusual to the both of you. You both lay in relative silence as she played with your hair, your eyes trained on the television in front of you but hers focused on you. 

She swallowed her nerves and cleared her throat, “How are you feeling ?”

Her fingers twirled strands of your hair and her grip on you tightened slightly. 

“I’m okay now. I’m over it. Shit happens but life goes on.”

Bada lightly called your name.

You hummed. 

“Give me one hundred days.” 

“What ?”

“Give me one hundred days and I can make you fall in love with me.”

You nearly burst out laughing, thinking she was joking but when you turned to face her you saw seriousness written on her face.

“You’re not joking ?” You said as you removed yourself from her arms and stood up; taking a couple steps back.

“No. I’m not.” Bada rose to her feet, her tall frame exceeding yours by inches as she stared down at you with eyes full of determination. “I am tired of watching you be miserable. I’m tired of sitting back and watching you leave and spend the night with random people that don’t care about you. I know you, and I know that you’re not happy. I know that you could be happier and I know that I can do that for you. I'm your best friend but give me one hundred days - give me one summer to show you how you deserve to be treated. I want to show you that you deserve to be loved and you deserve to feel it too.”

You stood there, words dying on your tongue as your head spinned. “Bada, where is this coming from ? You know how I feel about relationships . . .”

“I do know yes. But I know it’s because you’re afraid of being hurt.” 

Bada took a step toward you.

“But you don’t have to be afraid with me,” your name fell from her lips as she gazed down at you. “I would never dream of hurting you. I’m not perfect, I know. But I can promise you that I am worth taking the chance with. Just one hundred days, spend the summer by my side and if you want to stop at any moment you can. We can end it at any time and forget it ever happened.”

“But the fact that you’re my best friend scares me even more, Bada . . .”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to make a decision right now. I just thought I'd put it out there. If you ever decide to give love a chance, I'm here to guide you through it.”

The next day you woke up, wondering if it was all a dream. That your best friend had not basically admitted to being in love with you. You had love for Bada, but it wasn’t romantic. She was your best friend. You loved spending time in her company, you loved how she would always make you laugh, you loved how she would hold you in her arms as you both laid on the couch watching a series that the both of you knew you would never finish. You loved how her fingers felt in your hair when she would mindlessly play with it and you loved how you both seemed to complete each other. But Bada was your best friend - it was simply platonic. And that is what you planned to tell her that morning when you made your way out of your room; but a familiar voice grabbed your attention. 

“I know she’s here. Just let me see her, I want to apologise.”

“I told you to leave. She’s not here and even if she was, there’s no way I'd let you speak to her,” Bada’s chest puffed out slightly as she glared down at the girl standing at the door. 

“Go home. Now.”

Goosebumps rose on your skin. You had never seen Bada like that before, her intimidating aura completely caught you off guard as you stood and watched the encounter unfold.

“Or what ?” The girl scoffed.

“Or I'll shove those shitty roses down your throat. And I mean what I say - which might be a foreign concept to you. So get lost.”

“Who the fuck are you ? You’re not her fucking girlfriend, let me speak to her for fucks sake.” The girl cursed, quickly losing the last ounce of her composure. 

You knew Bada wouldn’t stand down and you quickly walked over and poked your head from behind her tall frame. 

“Hi. You’re speaking to me now and I'm telling you to go home. I don’t want to hear your excuses. You lied - end of.”

Your eyes immediately caught the sight of the bouquet of roses in the girl's hands and you scoffed at the audacity. 

“There’s no way. Please, go home. I don’t have time for this.”

The girl gripped the roses tighter as she held them out to you. “I wanted to apologise. I’m sorry for what happened and how things played out. I’m single now and I want to win you back. I hope that we can finally date now-”

“Of course you’re single, you're a liar and a cheater !” You laughed bitterly.

You hadn't noticed, but Bada had taken a step back, allowing you to take the reins. She stood to the side, hands in pockets and a small smirk on her face as she admired you right in that moment - your rage making her fall harder.

“And if I wanted to date someone it most certainly would not be you. Now leave and don’t come back. Don’t contact me either.”

You slammed the door. 

You let out a breath and turned back to face Bada. 

“Can you believe her ? Bringing me roses and asking me to date her . . .” You scoffed as the anger slowly sizzled within you. 

“If only she knew that your favourite flowers are tulips.” 

Her words extinguished any flicker of anger left within you.

You both stood there, looking at the other for a moment.

“Bada, are you in love with me ?” You breathed out.

She paused for a moment before responding.

“I am.”

You were so dazed that you weren't sure if your heart skipped a beat or sank into your chest. 

“For how long ?”

“For as long as I can remember.”

You exhaled.

“What you said yesterday . . . Did you mean it ?”

“I did. I want to be the one to make you happy.”

You breathed out a nervous breath, “Bada, I can’t promise you anything. I can’t promise that I actually will fall in love with you at the end of the summer. I can’t promise that I won’t self sabotage and maybe ruin our friendship in the process. That’s if I agree to this.”

Bada took a tentative step toward you.

“I won’t let our friendship be ruined. I won’t give that up but if you choose to then there’s not much I can do. But just know that whatever you decide, right now or further down the line, I’ll respect it.”

You took a deep inhale and played with your fingers as the nerves crawled up your body. Disbelief in yourself at your following words.

“Then, okay.”

“Okay ?”

“You’re right, I am scared of being hurt and of love. But I also trust you - you’re my best friend and there’s nobody else I'd rather try this with.”

You took a step forward.

“So, okay. I’ll give you one hundred days to make me fall in love with you.”

Bada’s heart bounced around her chest in a dance of glee and she smiled down at you, her hand reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You won’t regret it, I promise.” 

And that was how it began - Day 1. 

Day 16

Hushed laughter and giggles filled the summer evening air as you and Bada walked arm in arm down the dimly lit street.  

“You are definitely drunk.” Bada laughed as she held onto you tighter, steadying your footsteps. 

“I am not !” You gasped overdramatically as you snapped your head to face her. “I’m a little tipsy, that’s all. And so are youuuu.” You sang as you poked her chest, giggling as the alcohol made you feel light and free as a feather.

Bada grabbed your wrist and pulled you aside. 

“Watch where you’re going. We only had about two drinks, I forgot how much of a lightweight you are.” She teased.

“You’re a little tipsy too, don’t lie.” 

“But I’m not a lightweight like you.”

You whacked her arm jokingly and detached yourself from her hold, attempting to walk ahead of her but she chuckled and swiftly caught your arm, gently tugging you back. 

“Now where do you think you’re going, hm ?”

“Away from you.” You stubbornly replied but allowed her to place her hand in yours once more.

“Did you enjoy dinner ?” The older girl asked, fingers now locked with yours.

“I did, yes. It was nice. Thank you again for taking me out.”

“And again, it’s my pleasure. I'm glad you had a good time.” Bada smiled down at you and you avoided her gaze.

Suddenly the night sky rumbled as thunder rippled through the air. Almost instantaneously, raindrops began falling, accelerating in speed as the heavens opened up. 

You squealed with laughter and Bada’s grip tightened as she pulled you through the rain. 

“Bada, run !” You laughed as the both of you picked up speed and ran for the trees in hopes of shelter. 

“You just had to suggest that we walk.” You laughed as the raindrops fell mostly around the both of you now that you were under the protective umbrella of a tree’s leaves, the occasional droplet slipped its way through the gaps of the branches.

“I thought a moonlit walk would be romantic.” Bada laughed as she wiped her face, her fringe stuck to her forehead. 

You smiled at the sight of her. 

Bada smiled back as the both of you stood there, held hostage by the plummeting raindrops.

You tore yourself away from her gaze, cleared your throat and turned your back to her. The sight of the gleaming full moon stole your attention and you pointed to it, “Bada, look. We can still watch the moon.”

“Uhuh.” The taller girl muttered as she was, instead, watching you. 

“It’s so pretty.” You gushed as you continued to face away from her.

“It is.” Bada wasn’t talking about the moon.

Bada reached out and gently took a hold of your fingers and turned you to face her. 

“You know how you always said that kissing in the rain was overdramatic and overdone in the movies ?” Bada muttered as her fingers grazed over your knuckles.

“Yeah . . .” 

She licked her lips and your heart thumped in your chest.

“Do you wanna be really overdramatic with me right now ?” 

You swore it was the alcohol in your system but the rain had sobered you up.

“Ok.” You whispered.

Bada took a step out into the rain and pulled you against her, foreheads meeting in the middle as the rain showered over the both of you. You licked your lips in anticipation, and Bada let out a small hum before her thumb brushed over your bottom lip.

Your breath caught in your throat. 

You reminded yourself that it was just a kiss.

“Do you want this ?” She said in a breathless whisper.

“I do.”

Bada didn’t hesitate as she grabbed your waist and pulled you impossibly closer to her, your lips collided in a desperate dance of both certainty and uncertainty. Bada was certain that right at that moment, you had completed her. The way you fit so perfectly in her hands, the way your lips melted together and tongues danced - she was certain. 

You, however, were uncertain. Uncertain of if you had just felt a crack form within the walls surrounding your heart. It was impossible. You imagined it. 

Because it was just a kiss.

Day 18

“Achoo !” 

You sneezed into the tissue and Bada passed you another. 

“This is your fault.” You coughed out before letting out another sneeze.

Bada sat beside you and draped a thick blanket around your frame. “You’ve said that five times already.”

You curled into the blanket and Bada wrapped an arm around you, her other hand holding a bowl toward you.

“Now, drink your soup. I just made it.”

After your date in the rain you had fallen sick and despite your persistent arguments that you were fine and could take care of yourself - Bada was right beside you, nursing you back to health. 

You had threatened her with the likely possibility that she too would fall sick but Bada responded by driving to the store, buying your favourite snacks and then making you a hot bowl of soup before she settled beside you on the couch, arms wrapped around you as they usually were.

You took a sip of your soup and you groaned.

“You’re making it so hard to stay mad at you.”

“You were never mad at me.”

Day 21

Bada groaned as she staggered into the living room, her duvet trailing behind her and swallowing her frame.

“I'm sick.”

You rolled your eyes and stood up.

“I told you you’d get sick. You didn’t listen, and you say I'm stubborn.”

Bada responded with another groan and a cough as she glided across the room in the oversized blanket before dramatically collapsing onto the couch. 

“Go back to bed, Bada. You’ll be comfier there.” You said as you busied yourself in the kitchen, preparing some breakfast for your roommate. 

Bada raised her head to look over to you. 

“Is that for me ?”

“It is.” 

“You’re so - ACHOO ! - cute.”

She wiped her nose and you snorted.

“Go back to bed.”

Day 48

You stood, fingers gripping the rubber basketball as you took a deep breath, eyes fixed on the target.

A few feet away from you stood three basketball hoops, and a row of soft plushies hung besides them on either side. There was only one last shot that stood in between you and your chosen soft toy. And you were aiming for the winning shot.

Bada stood behind you, her hands rested on your hips as she chanted words of encouragement into your ears.

“You got this. Just one last hoop.”

You took your stance and raised the ball slightly above your eye line, you then perched it on your fingertips as you aimed and then launched it at the hoop.

The basketball hit the backboard and then bounced onto the ring.

It edged along the circumference of the hoop almost in slow motion before it finally fell through the middle.

You cheered and jumped and Bada scooped you up into her strong embrace, spinning you around.

You laughed and she kissed your nose.

“Now, what will the lucky lady choose ?” The man working at the stall grinned as his arm stretched out, showcasing his collection of prizes.

You immediately pointed to a big dolphin plushie and the guy handed it over to you. You thanked him and then spun around before holding the cuddly toy out to Bada. She raised her brow slightly and you gently pushed the toy into her arms.

“It’s for you. A dolphin goes with the sea.”

Bada stood there, slightly taken aback but touched. She took the dolphin plushie from you and held it to her chest before she grabbed your chin with her thumb and index finger, angling your face upwards to face her.

“Thank you, baby.”

She closed the gap and softly kissed your lips.

Bada had taken you to the annual summer fair and you were honestly having a great time. There were times where you would forget the circumstances in which you were under - that your best friend was trying to make you fall in love with her. And days like this, where you both seemed to revel in each other’s company, overpowered the blaring sirens in your head each time you shared yearning touches and gentle kisses. You chalked it up to the fact that you were best friends, so of course it felt the way it did - so right.

Evening approached and you and Bada found yourselves in the carriage of a ferris wheel as it steadily travelled skywards. You mentioned that you wanted to see the fireworks and Bada took it upon herself to ensure that you did - from the sky. 

The evening sky bled to a deep blue. You watched as remnants of the summer sun, still lingering in light brush strokes, soon faded into the darkness as the night sky took command.

Bada’s body pressed up behind you, her arms on either side of you as she held onto the railing. You absentmindedly leaned back into her chest and she placed her chin on your shoulder, before ghosting her lips against the skin of your neck.

Shivers ran down your spine.

You parted your lips to say something but a bright shooting light rushed up into the sky before exploding into thousands of spectacular sparks. Countless more followed as the once empty canvas, that was the night sky, became an artwork of shimmering colours.

The romantic ambience of the night didn't escape you and neither did the pestering butterflies that fluttered around your stomach. 

Your carriage was nearing the top and Bada placed a hand on your waist and turned you around. Face to face with inches between you, ‘Have her eyes always shone like this ? Were they always this pretty ?’

“Bada . . .” You breathed out onto her nearing lips.

“Hm ?” Her hand snaked around your waist.

“I-I think I like you . . .”

Your words halted Bada in her motions and she stared at you as her eyes scanned your face.

“You do ?” She said with a hopeful breath.

You nod your head, swallowing hard.

“Don’t think about it.” You whisper to Bada but also to yourself as the realisation of your words hit you.

“But-”

“Just kiss me.”

You leaned in, eliminating all distance between the two of you. Your lips crashed against Bada’s and you felt her immediately pull you flush against her, in return, your arms found their way around her broad shoulders. Bada nibbled on your bottom lip and you parted them, making way for her wet tongue to explore your mouth. You felt her tongue meet yours and a moan escaped your lips. Hearing your desperate sounds, Bada’s hands slided down to your ass, giving it a squeeze before sliding back up your back and over your body as she worshipped you.

“Fuck. You’re so perfect.” The taller girl groaned before desperately reattaching her mouth to yours.

Sparks flew as your lips spoke in a dance of tenderness and yearning. Likewise, the sparks of fire that cascaded down the night sky fell around you both in a glistening waterfall of explosive vibrancy as you reached the top - lost in the hunger for each other.

Bada had never kissed you like that. She had never touched you like that or looked so deeply into your soul with such desire and the events and emotions from the night played over in your mind as you now sat besides her in the passenger seat as she drove the both of you home.

You entered into your shared apartment and Bada followed behind you, shutting the door. You turned to face her and she took a step toward you, eyes never breaking their contact.

Your heart wrestled with reason as you fought the urge to jump back into her arms.

You saw Bada bite her lip slightly as her eyes scanned your body.

“Um,” you cleared your throat, “I’ll be going to bed now.”

“O-oh yeah. Me too, it’s late.”

“Yeah.” 

You quickly set off for your room and shut the door behind you, body leant against it as you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. This was the right call, for sure. The tension was too high right now and you didn’t want to cross any lines that you couldn’t go back on.

You sighed and then dragged yourself to your bathroom, ready to wash off the thoughts that plagued your mind.

Bada sat on the edge of her bed, face in her hands as she fought the urge to go over to your room. The last thing she wanted was to go too fast, especially after you had just confessed to harbouring some feelings for her; she didn’t want to overwhelm you. But Bada swore that she didn’t imagine the look in your eyes or the way you held onto her as you kissed and touched. Did you want her the way she wanted you ?

Down the hall you paced around in your room. Picking at your fingernails as you deliberated the consequences of walking down the hallway and knocking on your best friend's door.

A brief moment passed.

“Fuck it.” You said under your breath as you strode over to swing open your door.

But before you stood said best friend, with a hand frozen in motion as if about to knock.

Your heart skipped several beats and found its way into your throat. Words failed to leave your lips as you stood frozen, eyes locked with Bada’s.

“Hey.” She muttered, licking her lips slightly as her chest rose and fell with anticipation.

“Hey.” You whispered back, heat rushing through your veins.

“I thought you were going to bed ?” You breathed out.

“I thought you were.”

“I can’t sleep.” 

“Neither can I.” Bada’s gaze intensified.

Your body took over your mind and you took a slow step backward into your room, eyes never leaving Bada’s.

She followed your lead and took a step forwards, shutting the door behind her with her foot, eyes never leaving yours.

“What are we doing ?” You whisper as the suffocating tension stole your breath away.

“Tell me to leave.” She breathed out as she stared into your eyes.

“I don't want that.” 

“What do you want ?” Bada gazed at you with want.

“Stay . . . Please.” 

You took a step forward.

“I’ll stay.” Bada muttered as she admired your features and took in the slight crease of your brow and the way you nibbled on your bottom lip. She knew you were nervous.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Bada said as she reached up and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“What if I want to . . .”

Bada’s eyes darkened slightly and she cupped your face in her gentle hands. 

“What do you want to do, hm ?”

“This.” 

You pressed your lips against hers in a fervent passion, your arms wrapped around her shoulders and hers grabbed onto your hips as she held you impossibly close. Your breaths mixed and small moans fell from your tongue as it danced along with hers. 

“Are you sure about this ?” Bada said in between kisses as the both of you stumbled across your room in the direction of your bed, lips refusing to part.

“I’m sure, Bada.” You whisper before Bada gently lowered you onto the bed.

Bada climbed on top of you and you lay there, lashes fluttering as you held her stare.

She licked her lips and leaned in to press a kiss behind your ear. You shivered and she began a tender trail of kisses down your neck muttering gentle whispers onto your warm skin as her hands slid under and up your shirt, fingers grazing your delicate body.

“Relax for me.”

Time seemed to stop as you and Bada laid there exploring each other's bodies. With the barrier of clothes and fabrics long gone, your bodies pressed together merging into one as her fingers slid in and out of you. Your hips bucked against her, desperately chasing the pleasure but Bada’s grip on your waist firmed as she held you in place.

“You’re so sensitive aren’t you ?” Bada muttered, her gaze deep with craving as her fingers continued their relentless pounding into your dripping cunt. She licked her lips. Your body was beautiful and she struggled to comprehend that the person laid bare before her wasn’t actually a being - heaven sent. But to her you were one and the same.

Moans and whimpers of her name fell from your lips and you grabbed onto her arm. “I-I'm close, Bada.”

She smirked down at you and lowered her head down to meet your aching core. Bada wasted no time and attached her plump lips to your clit, sucking and licking it as her fingers pumped in and out of you - speed increasing.

Your back arched and your fingers dug into the sheets beneath you as an earth shattering wave of pleasure crashed through your body causing your legs to shake. Bada moaned onto your clit as she sucked on it; the feeling of your walls contracting around her fingers turned her on even more and she lowered her tongue before licking your cunt dry as it dripped with your sweet release.

You laid breathless and legs twitching as you came down from your climax. Bada ran her hands softly over your sides as they travelled up your body. One hand rested on your neck and the other took your left breast into its palm before gently massaging it.

“You’re so beautiful.” She muttered before pressing her lips to yours in a messy open mouthed kiss, your tongues fought against the other as you tasted yourself on her.

You broke away from the kiss and sat up. “I wanna make you feel good too . . .” You looked up at the taller girl with pleading eyes.

Bada felt her heart flip and she bit her lip at the thought of you touching her.

“C’mere then, princess.”

Bada pulled you up on top of her and you straddled her waist. Her fingers dug into your hot skin and yours trailed along her chest, grazing over her nipples.

She inhaled a sharp breath and you smirked a little before taking her nipples in between your thumb and pointer and began rolling them. You felt as they quickly hardened and you lowered your head to her chest, gazing up at Bada as she gazed back down at you. Your lips parted and took Bada’s erect nipple into your mouth, tongue swirling around it as you licked her chest, savouring the taste of her skin and the sounds she made above you.

Bada moaned a little, hands gripped your waist as she pushed her chest out further into your mouth.

“Fuck, baby. Your tongue feels so good.” She whispered breathlessly. “You gonna let me use that pretty little mouth of yours ?”

You hummed in response and began a trail of kisses down her chest and torso. Bada smirked down at you and leaned back on her elbows as she spread her legs apart for you. 

Your heart hammered in your chest and you didn't question why. You kissed Bada’s thighs, inching closer to core. You looked up at her through your lashes and her intense gaze bore into you, turning you on impossibly more. You held her gaze as you leaned in, your fingers slid up her wetness and then parted her pussy lips exposing her dripping hole to you. You stuck out your tongue and pressed it against her clit circling it in steady motions.

Bada jolted above you and she moaned out a curse. 

Her noises and breathless moans fueled your tongue as you began sucking and licking her clit, moaning as you did so. You kept her lips parted, determined to taste every part of her as your wet muscle travelled down to her aching hole. You prodded your tongue against it, circling it and lapping up her juices as she jerked her hips onto your face.

“Fuck. Just like that, baby. Eat my pussy like the pretty little slut you are.” Bada groaned as her fingers reached down to tangle in your hair, gripping it in her palm as she held your face against her aching cunt.

You moaned at her words, sending vibrations onto her sensitive skin as you continued to lick her folds. You felt yourself grow wetter and you stretched your hand between your legs and began rubbing your clit, matching the pace of your tongue against her.

“Are you touching yourself ?” Bada breathed out as she pulled you away from her by your hair, making you look at her.

You paused in your actions and nodded wordlessly.

Bada’s eyes darkened and she licked her lips. “Such a needy whore.”

Bada flipped you over. You laid on the mattress and she perched above you. She grabbed your legs and pulled you closer to her, angling you on your side and then lay on her side before sliding her legs in between yours - your wet cunts inches away from touching.

“You wanna come again, hm ? Well come with me, princess.” 

Bada gripped onto your ankle as she held your leg over her shoulder and then slid closer to join her pussy with yours. Your wet cunts rubbed against each other as Bada took control of the rhythm, jerking her hips forwards as her pussy lips kissed yours. Your clits bumped and slid against each other’s and whimpers and moans danced from your lips and hers. 

“You feel so good, baby.” Bada moaned.

“F-fuck. Don’t stop . . .” You whimpered.

And Bada didn’t stop. The both of you spent the night tangled in each other, moaning praises as you worshipped each other’s bodies.

Day 73

The music boomed from the stereos and cheers and excited whispers danced alongside it in the air. Bada stood in the middle of the practice room as students gathered and watched from the sides. The tempo built up and Bada began to move her body to the beat, her aura of swagger encompassing her as she moved. 

You had invited Bada to your dance class and everyone begged her to do her iconic choreo to ‘You Got It’. So there she was, dancing as the crowd around her ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’. 

You watched from the front of the crowd, arms crossed as your eyes followed her every move - as if in a trance. A small smile sat on your lips as you watched the way she emulated the vibe of the lyrics through her body and expressions, you felt butterflies in your stomach as you watched her and blushed at the way her eyes flickered to you at certain lyrics. 

Bada held your gaze as she continued to dance, she then smoothly made her way over to you as the beat came to a low point in the song. You laughed and shook your head at her - knowing exactly what part of the choreo she was about to do next. Bada smiled back at you and took your hand in hers, bringing you to the dance floor with her as she danced the lyrics to you. 

Oh yeah, it's time to mix it up and get ya glow girl.

Bada slid right up to you with a smirk as she grabbed her pants and jerked her hips, eyes not leaving yours. 

The practice room broke out into squeals and screams and you laughed and moved your body along with the music as Bada continued to dance around you.

I want you to know that girl you got it. 

Bada ended her dance with her hands on your hips and yours around her shoulders. 

The room exploded into chaos and you stepped back, laughing to hide the nerves that bubbled within you. Bada, on the other hand, just gazed at you with a grin on her face - you were all she saw in that moment.

Day 90

The morning sun poked through the curtains and you tossed and turned, opening your eyes slightly. Beside you laid Bada, snoring lightly. You smiled to yourself and brushed her messy fringe with your fingers as you found yourself admiring her peaceful face. The way her pink lips parted slightly, her long lashes that rested against her soft skin and cheeks tinted with a slight pink hue. You loved waking up to the sight of her. You don’t know when it began but you had been sleeping in her bed, regardless of sex. You enjoyed coming home and climbing into her warm embrace as she would cuddle you and kiss the top of your head - a usual practice between the two of you. You loved how she would hold your hand when in public and you loved how her fingers slid perfectly in yours. You loved how she still made you your favourite cup of herbal tea each morning and then would kiss your forehead after handing it to you.

You paused. 

Realisation washed over you like an avalanche of repressed emotions. 

You immediately got out of bed as quietly as your nerves would allow. You then picked up your clothes that were scattered on the floor and hurried out of Bada’s room. 

If Bada was awake she would have heard the front door shut. But she wouldn’t have known that that would be the last time she saw you that week.

Day 97

Bada opened your messages and saw that you still had not responded to her since three days ago when you sent her a brief, ‘Busy all week. Don’t wait up.’

She sighed in frustration and gripped her hair in her hands. Thoughts weighed heavy on her mind, she wondered if she did something wrong, she wondered if she hurt you. Bada decided that enough was enough and she would speak to no matter what.

Later that night, you softly unlocked the front door, opening it in small intervals to avoid making any sounds. You had been avoiding Bada all week and as far as you were concerned you intended to continue, until you snapped out of whatever delusion you believed yourself to be in. Because that's what it is - delusion.

You creeped down the hallway and gently opened your room door and entered, you faltered in your step because before you sat your roommate. Bada looked up at you from her seat on your bed and stood up.

She said your name in a soft manner and you recoiled.

“What are you doing ?” You asked.

“Waiting for you. You’ve been avoiding me all week.”

“I’ve been busy. I told you.”

Bada’s eyes scan your frame, eyening your choice of attire.

“Busy going out in short dresses and heels and then coming home late at night ?”

Bada stepped forward.

“Whilst also reeking of alcohol ?”

You scoffed. “And so what ? Since when have you cared about what I wear or do ?”

Bada frowns. “Since you decided to ghost me for a week after things were going so well.”

“Things were going well for you.” You folded your arms.

Bada scanned your face, she knew you were lying.

She took another step forward, now in front of you, breaths away.

You stood your ground and stayed firm in place, trying your best to keep your walls upright and strong.

“So you’re telling me that you didn’t like the way I held you.” Bada whispered as her hands moved to rest on your waist, thumb rubbing gentle circles into your skin.

You gulped and cleared your throat.

“Bada . . .”

“Or the way I touched you.” She tightened her grip on your waist and pushed you back against the door, trapping you in her arms. 

Your heart pounded against your chest and you cursed at it.

“Tell me to stop.” She whispered as she looked at you with darkened eyes.

Your eyes flickered to her lips and you found yourself closing your eyes and leaning in.

Bada met you halfway and crashed her lips into yours. She pressed herself against you and your arms flew to her shoulders, securing your bodies together. The taller girl bit your bottom lip and groaned into your mouth before her tongue slid in and you let out a small moan in response.

Why did kissing your roommate - your best friend - feel so right ? You had spent the past week arguing with yourself and begging your heart to stop its yearning for the older girl. You liked her, that was it. It wasn’t love. It would never be love, because you did not do love. It was messy and it always ended in pain. You couldn’t fall in love with your best friend.

Your hands removed themselves from Bada’s shoulders and you roughly pushed her away. Breath heavy and lips slightly swollen as you blinked at her for a moment. 

“Leave.” You whispered.

“What ?” Bada muttered, unsure of if she heard you correctly,

“Get out of my room, Bada.” You begged, eyes glossing with tears.

Bada’s brows twitched and she reached out for you.

“Get Out ! Now !” You cried out.

“I don’t love you. I will never love you. Fuck, I don’t know why I agreed to this,” You ran your fingers through your hair as you paced around your bedroom.

Bada’s eyes never left you as she stood frozen.

Your head snapped to look at her. “You deserve better. I can’t love you. So leave Bada.”

You had Bada’s heart in the palm of your hand. For as long as she could remember she knew that her heart belonged to you. But you had now grabbed the organ that beats for you and crushed it between your delicate fingers.

So Bada honoured your wishes and she left.

Day 99

Bada had been going out every night since that night. You knew this because you would hear the slam of the front door each evening when she left and then hours later when she came back home in a drunken state.

However, tonight was different. 

Your phone rings and you see Bada’s name flash up on your screen. Your heart skips a beat and you stare at it for a moment. 

“Hello ?” You say into the phone, unsure of what to expect.

“Hello ?” A muffled voice you don’t recognise responds as it asks your name to confirm.

“Yes, that’s me. Who are yo-”

“Can you come and get Bada ? She’s completely wasted.”

That's how you found yourself guiding a very drunken Bada back through your apartment doors and into her bedroom.

Bada stumbled onto her bed and you took a step back. “I’ll be back. I’ll go get you a cup of water.”

You returned to see Bada had kicked off her shoes and laid face first into the mattress.

“Bada ? Here.” You say, handing her the cup.

“I didn’t think you would actually come back.” She mumbled turning to face you. “You hate me.”

Your heart ached. “I don’t hate you, Bada.”

“I’m sorry for being in love with you.” She slurs as tears brim in her eyes. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and move to sit on the edge of her bed. “Don’t be sorry. Please just drink this and try to sleep.”

Bada takes the cup from you. “ Will you leave ?” 

“Um, I-I can if you want me to.” You stammer, playing with your fingers nervously.

“Please don’t leave me. I don’t want my best friend to hate me. I don’t want to lose you . . .” You watch as a tear falls from Bada’s eye and your heart cracks.

As if by instinct you move closer to Bada and you hold her in your arms, comforting her with a hug. “I won’t leave you, Bada. And I don’t hate you . . . It’s the opposite.” You whisper the last part under your breath.

Bada wraps her arms around your waist before allowing her body to relax in your arms. Her eyes flutter shut and you stare down at her as she dozes off - this particular scene forcing memories and emotions back into your mind.

You then try to remove yourself from her hold but she grips onto you tighter. 

“Stay.” You hear a small whisper and so you do.

You wrapped your arms back around Bada and you stayed.

Day 100

Morning came and your eyes fluttered open. Bada now lay behind you, arm slung over your body as she pressed up against you. Events of last night still clear in your mind, you intended to slip out of Bada’s arms and back into your room in hopes that she didn’t remember much.

You gently took Bada’s arm and raised it, slipping out of her hold and then inching closer to the edge of the bed. You let out a hushed exhale and then stood up, gently treading as you made your way to her door.

“Are you leaving ?”

A sleepy voice halts you in your tracks.

You swiftly turn and see a messy haired Bada rubbing her eyes as she sits up.

“Hi,” you breathe out, “I’m just going back to my room.”

“Oh, alright . . . Thank you for staying when I asked.”

Your stomach drops a little. “You remember asking ?”

“I remember a little bit.”

“O-oh, okay. Well I hope you feel a little better now.” You rushed as your hand grabbed onto the door handle and swung it open.

“What did you mean when you said that you didn’t hate me, that it was the opposite ?” 

Your heart stopped.

“I didn’t say that. You were drunk, Bada.” 

“I know what I heard,” Bada says your name firmly. “Why did you push me away ?”

Bada slowly rose to her feet, gaining her balance.

“Because I can’t love you.” You muttered, eyes avoiding hers.

Bada stepped forward. “And why can’t you love me ?”

Your feet refused to move. 

“You deserve better than me. I’m not meant to love or be loved . . .” 

Bada took another step closer.

“Do you love me ?”

Your heart thundered in your chest.

“Bada, I can’t-”

“Do you love me ?”

You swallowed hard.

“I’m not the one for yo-”

“I can decide that for myself, if you’re the one or not. You don’t get to make decisions regarding the both of us and how I feel toward you.” Bada breathes out as she takes another step, now standing directly before you. “My heart beats for you. It belongs to you like it was carved and sculpted to beat to the rhythm of your name. I know you and I know that I love you. Do you love me ?”

“I love you.” You choke out. Tears glossing your eyes. “I-I do love you. But I'm afraid, Bada.”

Bada takes you in her arms. 

“You can love, so you’re meant to be loved. It is scary, yes. But I'm here and I love you in return.”

You cried into Bada’s chest as she held you to her heart as it pumped just for you. 

The once impenetrable towers that stood mighty around your heart now crumbled. The remaining bricks fell away as Bada tamed the fiery beast that guarded your fragile heart, forcing the doubt and fear into submission as she held you and wiped your falling tears. Bada had rescued you.

“You deserve to be happy,” Bada mutters into your hair as she traces mindless patterns on your back, still holding you dear. “You deserve to be loved.”

“You make me happy.” You sniffle.

“And I'm glad. You make me happy too.” She whispers before you pull away from her embrace, wiping your teary eyes.

“I think I've always loved you, Bada.” You whisper, eyes locked with hers. “And that’s what frightened me.”

Bada took your face in her palm, thumb gently rubbing your cheek.

“I’ve always loved you and I don’t think I'll stop anytime soon.”

“Please don't stop.” You plead in one breath.

Bada gazes at you with eyes full of adoration.

“I won't. I love you,” your name gently falls from her lips.

“I love you too, Bada.”

Bada smiles and brings you closer. She leans in and joins her lips with yours in a tender exchange of love - love that the two of you always shared.

Tag List / / @princhii , @lil-elliesgf , @wiselight @nimixe ! [OPEN]

[voidfanatic]

Mmm Tank (Traducción en texto alternativo)

-

Eng: (I hope nobody has done this before, if that's the case, I'll give credit just tell me). The image I downloaded was crunchy that's why it looks like that 👻

Esp: (Espero que nadie haya hecho esto antes, si es el caso, daré crédito solo dime). La imagen que descargué estaba crunchy es por eso que luce así 👻

[telecommunikate]

On the topic of similarities between rugby and motogp, who on the grid do you think would be the best at and/or most enjoy getting lifted up to catch the ball??

i will admit, the image of marc or jorge or enea being lifted and absolutely yeeted into the air sent me in orbit

like, can you image a prop, who are notoriously built like brick shithouses, just chucking marc into the air? getting all up in his business and sending him skyward? hilarious.

as for who i think would enjoy it the most, well. marc canonically enjoyed being manhandled. the evidence abounds. However, there is some debate over whether this continues to this day post-body horror experience. also the fact that it was being manhandled by older men and he's now only got johann.....

the other obvious answer, to me at least, jorge. why? the boys a bottommmmmmmmmm. i just think he would enjoy having one beefy man clutching his thighs and the other cupping his ass. insert compilation of him jumping into aleix's arms here. i mean, these are the visual aids given by world rugby themselves:

i rest my case

(when i say they are getting up in each other's business, i'm not joking)

now this reasoning falls apart if you look at who the best at being lifted/contesting in the lineout etc because, well, marc and jorge are vertically challenged. and you tend to go for taller players because you do in fact want them to get high enough up there to contest the ball (see above).....

which then switches us to the resident tall boys. now, i have next to no knowledge of the athletic prowess of any of the riders, so i cannot give any well reasoned response here. but luca gets a shout out because he's the only rider even approaching the height you'd expect. still a solid 15-20cm off a lock though. also i think he'd be pretty decent if for no other reason than because i just have an image of luca as fairly competent across the board.

i also think fermin would be good. why? vibes. i'm not sure about alex because he does seem a bit too Limbs for it. fabio and diggia also get shout outs because i think they'd both be solid. also, this is all based entirely on height reasons, absolutely no consideration for who i think would actually have good in the air skill whoops

now, bez i think would be okay, maybe a little stressed and shy about it, but ultimately would enjoy the manhandling and being Tall™. i don't know why he gets his own special section but he does.

as to the rest, i don't have any particular feelings at this time (or witty asides). except for ai ogura who, except for the clear height disadvantage, i just think would be capable as hell. also, japan is known for it's fast pace and highly technical style of play which i think kind of echoes what ai has brought so far this season.

final note, did i want to say brad binder solely because he's south african? yes. honorary mentions also to our frenchmen (surely they at least know of rugby) and jack miller (who by rights should also get a mention because of the kiwi genes). also my understanding is that rugby is still fairly niche in italy but growing? so the italians don't get national stereotyping honours

if anyone would like to weight in, please do! if you've made it this far down the post.....

edit: forgot fermin is also 181cm so luca is not the only one lol

[pitstoplexi]

Nah Hamilton lap got deleted

We can never have a good day with Ferrari

[beetledrink]

all the shit ive been writing lately has me feeling like someone asked me for fresh Spock & Bones and i was like “we have victorian Spock and Bones and home”

[galvanisticinhuman]

since the multiverse is canon in invincible and the idea of a multiverse means that there's infinite universes that means that if you squint then madohomu is technically quite literally cecald in another universe

[homunculovers]

Negotiations wouldn’t be easy.

Rusty would never subside to Hank, because money is the only power he has over him. He lives in a world where his dad’s own team left their glorious leader to rot in a barely alive, barely conscious nightmare world for 20 years. An eternity. And while Rust resents Jonas for basically being more popular than him, still he doesn’t want his suffering nor his death. Finding him in that state must have been an excruciating reveal. And he’s been the cause for his children’s deaths too many times.

A way to overthrow Rust would be to override his stocks. If he had paid Pete and Bill in stocks, if Hank and Dean had some too, if pirate Captain, who certainly holds quite a bit of the stock capital by himself, pitched in; and if the OSI did so as well, it might just be possible. What needed to happen at that point would be an intervention.

The gang calls for Rust in the conference room. Hank delivers the news he’s fired in his usual playful way. He can yank dad's chain a bit since he believes he’s ultimately doing him a favor. Rust would go ballistic, words would be thrown around, eventually the talk of power dynamics would be had. The talk about how incompetent a manager Rust has consistently been through the years.

Feeling isolated, Rust would flee and plan carefully for his next move. The gang, especially the kids, would feel mortified over their good intentions being so sorely misunderstood. Hadn’t their dad wished for an escape from this life of ill fitted responsibilities from day one? Were they not serving him just that on a silver platter? But to Rust, this is a reckoning he felt overdue. He finally sees the parallels with his own father. He’s never faced terror like this. Everyone’s an enemy.

They have a second talk, this time with lawyers. Rusty’s party accepts to resign, with conditions. Conditions being: to preserve Rusty’s bodily autonomy at all costs, to dispose with dignity of his body after death, and to protect it from experimentation by the OSI or other parties. As the example list grows more gruesome Hank jumps up, almost in tears, yelling in indignation that he’d never do any of these things to his dad, and if Dean would try he’d stop him (much to Dean’s bewilderment).

This is when Rust tells him. About his father’s destiny. About his fear of retaliation. About how old age creeping in means to become even more feeble than he already is, financial power being the one final wall protecting him from harm. About how in their world, familial bonds mean nothing, as they are fragile enough to be shattered by the first power structure deeming themselves to be in the right. So he’ll offer Hank his playground, on the condition to be legally promised that forsaking this power, this power that has cost him everything already, will not earn him another lifetime of torture.

Hank flings himself out of his chair in angry tears, hugging his dad so tightly as if to squeeze the fear out of him for good. I wouldn’t do that. You are so fucked up. You should get help.

Hank. In this world, getting help means a bullet to the head.

Imagine, he says sniffling, imagine a world where getting help means… getting help! Dad. I’ll make it happen.

This is when Rust finally hugs him back, meekly murmuring in his son’s shoulder that he’d like that. He'd like that very much. Believing not in his success, but in his heart.

[red-the-anomaly]

oh God I'm about to start reworking my fanfic

time for some pain

(Noelle added for emotional support)

Will keep you all updated on how the rewriting goes

[morickkk]

“A True Romantic Would Recite a Poem”

If you were to ask what Harrison’s favourite thing to do around midnight he might say something about pulling things out of his hat or practicing any sort of tacky magic. He’d probably tell you that he spends every night trying to make things reappear or perhaps look around the campsite for something to help him figure things out. However what he won’t tell you is that maybe he is trying to create a poem.

He didn’t know what was up with him tonight, all of a sudden he decided to pull out a pen and a small notebook writing out little details of certain characteristics. So there he was, the illusionist at 1 am, head on the table with a hand gripping on his pen while the other repeatedly whacked his head under a blinding flashlight.

Someone could look at him right now and tell him he looked pathetic, I mean? The way he's acting at the moment, the fact there are so many crumpled papers on the ground, and the fact he’s making a poem in the first place! It was dorky to say the least and he would definitely get a teasing over it.

Harrison groaned in despair, thinking of words to write, rhymes to make, and things to discuss. Based on past events, he remembered a certain somebody who found poems enlightening and he couldn’t get it out of his head. The brunette knew that he has his ways on metaphors, he finds himself using them every now and then—although the problem here is that he’d only ever use it if it was circling around magic. Based on who he was erm…. Making it for.. He felt like he couldn’t do any of that.

With no progress done, Harrison continued to lie his head down the table. This time one of his legs starts bouncing repeatedly due to stress. He never thought he’d be worrying over something like this, if he ever found himself last week planning to do anything near to this, he’d probably put himself in more shame as he is now.

“What are you doing?” Harrison instantly looked at the direction and started shuffling around the paperfilled desk.

“Preston! Nothing! I was just about to go to.. sleep?” yeah that’s right! Who wouldn’t believe that right in the middle of midnight hours while looking like a madman creating something really suspicious…!

“Spill it.”

“No! I’m just trying to figure out new tricks I could do for my next show!” Harrison retorted

“Oh okay. Guess you WOULDN'T MIND if i steal one of these CRUMPLED ones!” Preston quickly grabbed two to three papers on the ground and opened them. With Harrison’s luck, Preston is known to be a fast reader due to his specialty with producing scripts. Great.

Harrison would try to push the papers off but his embarrassment has already taken over his body and all he could ever really do is stare frantically while drastically hoping for the light to already take him.

“Who would write a poem and start it with ‘roses are red’? Poetries are supposed to be IMPOSING and SINCERE, not this kind of junk! What are we? Twelve?” We are. The other scoffed trying to hide his already reddened cheeks. “Wait…”

And there it was. The moment he was waiting for. The long awaited humiliation and shame from another camper, let along the loudest one in the camp.

“Who is it for?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” He can’t risk this conversation to get out of this very tent, he already got enough with the other guy reading some of his failed attempts and now he would rather die than for everyone to know.

“oh OH! Is it for Nerris?” So much for keeping things private.

Harrison knew whatever feelings he had for that other magic kid was never really something that was kept, it’s like everyone had this sense where they knew what was up—Hell! Even David awkwardly tried to obviously hinting it to him. But to think that the other would just straight up guess- no- disclose their name is what is setting up his head on the ledge of a point. Who was he kidding? Not only was his actions already odd enough—this was Camp Campbell he was talking about, he practically won’t have a day for him to admit something without someone already mentioning it.

He was half relieved though, having to reveal that would cause him nine lives, even to his tentmate. What he just hopes for now is that for Nerris to not get any sort of news about it.

“Well my friend, you’re not really that discreet” Harrison sighed in defeat.

“HOWEVER! as your great companion! It is a must to help you with this sort of problem!” Preston added with a grin

“You just wanted to make a really dramatic poem, didn't you?”

“I just want to make a really dramatic poem, yes.”

Harrison groaned in reply, wanting this conversation to end as fast as it could. With Preston’s help he doesn't know what to expect—he knew it’d either be actually helpful or he’d end up making a really overly detailed and theatrical piece for the elfkin. “Fine. But let’s go head to sleep first.”

But he knew if he found any chance to post pone this, he would.