#this felt like it needed to be in green text format idk

[paozinho-o]

>be me

>Walking home at night

>DOESNT HEAR THE FOREST MAKING EVIL SOUNDS but my friend does and he conveniently tells me RIGHT BEFORE HIS HOUSE SO I STILL HAVE A 10 MINUTE WALK ALONE IN THE DARK

>we joke about how it’s the six foot tall spider

>he leaves, I walk alone in the dark fearing the six foot tall spider :/

Im ok tho.. spider didn’t get me :3

[human-trash-fire]

Shot Through The Heart: Chapter 7 (part 4- Rowaelin) NSFW

First and foremost I want to apologize to all my readers for the delay. This is my 5th pass at this chapter. I lost motivation when it seemed that every time I went to write this it didn’t do the buildup justice.

A few notes going in: 

1.The total money Dorian, Asterin, and Mannon made from their game will be posted at the end of the chapter. 

2. This is the first chapter that will feature a group text, so I’ve changed the formatting on text conversations to make it slightly easier to track. That being said, we see the Group Chat from Aelin’s phone and, as you’d expect everyone has a name. Here is a list of the characters and their text names so it’s easier to understand:

- The Queen: Aelin

-Sexy Liger: Lysandra

-SINnamon Roll: Elide

-Dorian’s Dom: Manon

-Blonde Demon: Asterin

-Elsa Havilliard: Dorian

-Balto: Aedion

-Discount Deadpool: Ren

Lastly, a GIANT THANK YOU to all of you who have kept up with this story and to @starseternalnighttriumphant​ for beta reading this chapter. I hope you all enjoy <3 

(Click HERE to bring you to my masterlist if you need a refresher course on what’s happening bc I took so long to write this)

AELIN:

What the fuck is going on? Aelin thought as she reached for her mimosa, taking care to lean as far away from Rowan at her side as possible. Last night…. Last night was clearly eventful in more ways than one. She had been awake for approximately 15 minutes and wasn’t entirely sure she was sober yet, if she was being honest. The demon 3-way at the end of the table had spent the entire morning cackling like a pack of witches and, not-so-subtly marking tallies for their fucking “bets.” By Aelin’s estimation she’d made Dorian enough money over the course of their friendship to buy a fucking Lambourghini.

“Hey Rowan,” Dorian sounded mild but the smirk playing about his lips gave him away. This motherfucker. Aelin cut him a scathing look over her sunglasses.

“Sup?” He responded, while Aelin lifted her drink to her lips and started a long pull, eyes now locked on Dorian.

“I was just wondering if you enjoyed your night,” Dorian said, all to-casually. “I seemed to have lost track of you after you went out for fresh air.” Four Things happened simultaneously:

Aelin choked on her mimosa. Pale orange liquid sputtered from her lips as she fought to catch her breath.

Aedion loosed what could only be described as a growl from across the table.

Dorian and Asterin fist-bumped, without looking away from the debacle.

Manon muttered “Fucking cheaters.”

Son of a bitch.

***********************************************

He leaned forward, a sensual smirk playing at his lips. Aelin glanced down, then back up to his eyes as she moved forward, their breath mingling. One of his hands slid up to cup her cheek, while the other slid down her lower back to squeeze her ass. Aelin closed her eyes when their lips came together, but as she went to deepen the kiss a loud giggle escaped instead. Fen’s eyes snapped open and he began to pull away. 

“Oh gods, no, I’m so sorry, let’s try this again” Aelin pleaded, once again closing the distance between them. This time as their mouths opened and tongues met Fenrys began to laugh. He was laughing so hard he was shaking, and Aelin couldn’t help but join. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t.” He wheezed  between bouts of laughter. “Don’t get me wrong Ace, I’ve wanted to try that since I first saw you gut a guy in Assassin's Blade. And it’s not that I’m not grateful,” at this point tears were streaming down both their faces and they tried to regain their composure. “It’s just, you’re.. it’s like kissing connall! You’re way prettier, for sure, but it’s just not…” his hand waggled between the both of them. 

“Full of fireworks and shit?” Aelin supplied. 

“Exactly! And as much as I adore you, I think maybe we were just meant to be-“ 

“Friends? Oh thank gods.” Aelin breathed.  She couldn’t help but be relieved he felt the same. As much as she had grown to love him over the past few months, and didn’t want to lose his light in her life, she couldn’t help that as they kissed she found herself wishing it was a different blonde in her arms. 

“Besides, you're nearly as pretty as I am, it wouldn’t be fair to hoard all this to ourselves.” Fenrys responded with a smirk, and grabbed Aelin’s hand dragging her back down the hall and into the festivities.

When they re-entered the room, Fen’s eyes immediately landed on Asterin. She was chugging whiskey from a bottle while standing precariously atop the coffee table. “Soooo… tell me about Asterin,” he whispered in Aelin’s ear. 

She snorted, “I admire your recovery time Moonbeam. She’ll tear you to shreds. But I rather think you’d enjoy that” she said with a knowing look. “Go on,” she nodded. And with one last wink Fen sauntered over to his next conquest. 

“Hello little wolf” Asterin purred as she lowered the bottle from her lips. “Care for a body shot?” Fen’s eyes dropped to the intricate chandelier style tattoo that began somewhere beneath her breasts and spread out across her abdomen. Eyes trailing back up to meet hers, he slowly reached for the bottle in her hand. 

“Lay down,” Aelin heard him say in a commanding tone. Asterin lowered herself onto the table, eyes never leaving his. She was a predator luring it’s prey by feigning compliance. While his face remained stoic, Aelin saw his throat bob. 

“Try not to get me too messy,” Asterin purred. 

“I can’t make any promises.” 

Aelin chuckled quietly and looked away from the, frankly pornographic scene, only to find a pair of pine green eyes watching her across the room. She smiled, and grabbed a bottle of Johnny Walker off a nearby table and headed outside hips swaying.

************************

“Smooth,” Gavriel muttered from somewhere amidst the chaos. Aedion was still glaring daggers, if looks could kill Aelin was sure Rowan Whitethorn would have been obliterated. Overprotective asshole. After catching her breath she snagged her phone from the pocket of her sweatshirt and fired off a text to the group chat.

The Queen: You MOTHER FUCKERS

Elsa Havilliard: ????

Blonde Demon: Problem?? 

Blonde Demon: hahahahahahah

Dorian’s Dom: fucking CHEATERS

The Queen: WHAT WAS THE BET

The Queen: I WILL PAY YOU TO END THIS 

Balto: I will burry his fucking body under the field

Balto: Ren will help

Discount Deadpool: Eh…

SINnamon Roll: Oh shut up Assryver

SINnamon Roll: Go back to eye-fucking Lys

Dorian’s Dom: LOLOLOL 

Dorian’s Dom: $40 and counting

Discount Deadpool: Elide out here snatchin’ wigs

Sexy Liger: Fuck. You. All. Stop making brunch WORSE. 

Sexy Liger: And no one is “eye fucking” anyone

SINnamon Roll: IDK what you’re talking about, this is the best fucking brunch I’ve ever been to

Blonde Demon: 10/10 agree

Elsa Havilliard: One for the ages

Dorian’s Dom: iconic

The Queen: CANCELLED

Discount Deadpool: *gasps in gay*

Balto: …….

The Queen: You heard me, you fucking traitors. 

The Queen: Except you Lys. I love you always.

SINnamon Roll: rude.

*****************************************

Aelin knew he had followed her to the pool, her skin pebbled with anticipation. She took a huge swig from the bottle and turned around, slowly dragging her lips off the top. “Hello Buzzard.”

“Brat.”

Aelin brought a hand to her chest, “You wound me.” She allowed her hand to linger, toying with the edge of her bathing suit top. Fingers drawing his gaze to the valley between her breasts. Rowan brought his thumb up to graze his lower lip, and dragged his gaze back to hers. “I was considering going for another swim, care to join me?” Aelin set the bottle at her feet and slowly removed her sheer bathing-suit cover, letting the material pool at her feet and biting her lip.

“And Fen?”

“Tongue deep in a new prospect, as you saw…” Aelin lowered herself to the edge of the pool and gracefully slid beneath the surface. Breaching the water, she pushed her hair back and swam back to the edge, arms folded in front of her. Looking up with a smirk.

Rowan squatted down in front of her, bringing a finger underneath her chin and forcing her eyes from his spread thighs to his face. “And you?” He asked, voice low and head cocked to the side.

“What about me?” Aelin asked, voice a near whisper and heart hammering in her throat.

“What do you want, Aelin?”

“What I’ve wanted for a while now…” His brow hitched in question, and she swallowed audibly. “Whatever you’ll give me Whitethorn.” Rowan nodded once then released her chin, standing to remove his shirt. HOLY FUCKING GODS she thought. The tattoo that crawled down his face danced across every chiseled plain of his body. Covering the entire left side and disappearing beneath the low-riding waistband of his Terrasen flag swim trunks. 

“Eyes are up here sweetheart,” he chuckled.

“I’m sure they are,” she choked out, licking her lips and continuing to stare at the V of muscles hovering above her head.

“Menace,” Rowan growled and dove over her head into the pool. Aelin turned, resting her elbows against the wall behind her and tracking his body as it moved under the water towards her. He came to the surface a foot from her face, shaking his head and brushing his silver hair from his forehead. 

“Dramatic.” She whispered through a smile.

Rowan brought himself within inches of her, hands on either side of her shoulders, strong arms boxing her in. 

“If we do this, we do it my way.” She tilted her head in silent question. “I don’t do soft. I don’t do vanilla. If you can follow my rules I’ll treat you better than anyone ever has. If that’s not something you’re interested in, we stop now. No harm done. A ‘no’ from you will stop this, no matter what. You’re safe with me, always Aelin.” She was shaking with anticipation, and the smirk he wore was indication enough that he knew he had her. “I have spent months thinking of all the ways I could take you apart.” He leaned in even further, lips ghosting hers. “So I’ll ask you one last time… What do you want Aelin?”

“You, Sir.”

And with that, he kissed her. It wasn’t gentle, it was a brand on her lips, fire licking its way to her core. A large hand slid down her back beneath the water and dragged her body against his. Instinctually she wrapped her legs around his middle, rocking against the evidence of his arousal prominently resting against her ass. He pulled back from her mouth with a click of his tongue. “Did I tell you to move?” he asked, voice almost bored.

“N-no.”

“No, what?

“No, Sir.”

“Back against the wall,” Aelin did as instructed, dropping her legs from his waist and pushing back. Heart hammering a staccato beat against her ribs, her every nerve-ending was both too hot and too cold. “Good, girl.”

His praise shot straight to her core, Oh shit. He moved back into her, pressing her bodily against the wall as he nipped and sucked his way across her jaw, up and down her neck. The hand that had pulled her in initially dragging its way across her stomach… moving south, hooking a single finger into the material he paused. “Yes or no?” he whispered into her ear, and punctuated the question by dragging her earlobe into his mouth. Sucking gently, teeth grazing. 

“Gods yes, pl- please sir.”

**************************************

Aelin thrust her phone back into the pocket of her sweatshirt, and shrank down into her chair with all the grace of a sullen child. Her friends were assholes, and if they didn’t stop they’d fuck up whatever it was that started last night. They don’t know shit, she reminded herself and glanced at the hulking man next to her casually drinking his coffee. There was no way Rowan and the Cadre were unaware of the tension that had settled at the table. It seemed as though the only people exempt from it were Connall and Vaughn, currently feeding Ren at the opposite end of the table. 

What in the actual fuck is happening? 

A hand on her thigh startled Aelin from her highly obvious oggling of the threesome, and she turned her head to fully look at Rowan. He hitched a brow and smirked, his eyes seeming to ask Something the matter? Aelin rolled her eyes and gave him a look that she hope conveyed Not at all, I’m just curious.

Rowan leaned in then, using the movement to drag his hand to the apex of her thighs beneath the table and whisper in her ear. “Connall and Vaughn like… Pets. They’ve been looking for someone new since we got back, looks as though they’ve found one.”

“Should I be worried about Ren?” She whispered back.

“He seems to be handling himself just fine.”

“For now…” Aelin mused. “But if they hurt him I will personally cut them into pieces and feed them to Fleetfoot.”

“If they hurt him Princess, I’ll help.”

********************************************

Mouth sucking a pert nipple through the soaked material of her swimsuit, Rowan slid a single finger along her slit. Torturously slow. Swirling her clit with to-light pressure, and then back to circle her entrance he dipped just the tip in. She was shaking, so tempted to grind into his hand, desperately seeking the release that had been building and now sat on a knife’s edge. 

He kept teasing, holding her at that edge while she begged “More” and “Please Sir” and “I’m so close.” He was taking her apart with a single finger and a set of teeth slowly dragging their way back up towards the shell of her ear. 

“Do you wanna cum, Princess?” he whispered. Pulling his finger from her sex and resting his palm against her. That damn finger now resting lightly against her entrance. She barely held still.

Aelin nodded her head furiously.

“Use your words.” A command.

“Yes, Sir. Pl-Please I need to cum. Please can I cum, p-” Her plea cut off as he plunged two thick fingers inside her and began to fuck right against that spot. 

“Cum.” He growled. And Aelin saw the Gods.

Rowan worked her through her orgasm, thumb circling her clit and fingers hammering, until she was sobbing with over-sensitivity. He eased out of her, pulling his face from her neck and his fingers from her body, bringing them up to his mouth. Pine-green eyes boring into her soul, he slowly sucked her taste from his fingers. 

“Good Girl.”

Rowan lifted her out of the water, setting her on the edge of the pool and hoisting himself up with sheer upper-body strength. The front of his trunks still tented, she gathered what brain cells she had left and nodded towards his glorious erection, “What about you?”

“What about me?” he reached for a towel, and came back to her side helping her to her rather useless feet. How the fuck had he made her like this with only his hands?

“Isn’t it my turn?” Aelin asked dumbly.

“No.”

“No?” She was so fucking confused. Didn’t he want her? “But I thought…”

“You thought, what. That I’d fuck you tonight?”

“Well… yeah, don’t you want to?”

“More than you know princess,” Rowan wrapped the towel around her shoulders. Pulling her in to kiss her forehead. “I want nothing more than to fuck you until you can’t remember your own name. But I won’t do it when you’re drunk.”

“I-I’m not tha-” her protest died in her throat when he gave her an irritated look.

“Mhmm. Enough.” He began to lead her towards the door leading them back to the rooms. “Now, let’s get you dried off and in some warm clothes. Would you like to sleep in my room or yours?”

“Yours please, Sir.” She smiled as he kissed the top of her head.

“As you wish Princess.”

****************************************

FINAL TOTALS FROM THE BETS:

Dorian: $75 (Because Aedion had some fucking opinions)

Manon: $40 (Because Lys and Aedion studiously ignored eachother after being called out in the group chat

Asterin: $40 (Because Aelin was a stumbling mess- though curiously Rowan remained calm)

****************************************

TAG LIST:

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@highqueenofelfhame​

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[abyss-mal-blog1]

current mind-space//word vomit

it’s amazing how much can change in a few days, but it hasn’t been a week since my finals ended and i already felt so different. i have been doing f45 everyday this week (if not then some kind of workout, but i’ve really been into that recently). i am feeling so much better now without deadlines, sometimes i don’t know if i function better under pressure or not. i guess not, but then it’s amazing how much i can do and achieve under pressure. i need the right amount of pressure, and this semester it has been a little difficult for me to get around that. 

last friday was kinda my last day of finals, i just had an essay to submit, and i am disappointed in myself and my work ethic because i submitted it at 9pm, went to my cousin’s (disappointing) party, and then professor emailed me to say that she cannot read Pages format (seriously smh @ my tardiness!!!), only got back at 1am that night and sent my mediocre essay. i am a little sad about it because i know that is not my 100%. idk why but college so far has just been a series of 80% effort. this paper was an interesting one, on airbnb, on the sharing economy, it’s a performance studies paper where i analyze the hospitality platform in terms of host-user relationship, parasitism and (attempted) to talk about free online labor. it is a little too late now but i kinda want to work on it again and like, submit for feedback. maybe ill ask taylor. 

last saturday was kinda meh, i agreed to go to a *social* kinda event at a bar/club at chelsea, held for Asian-ivy-alumni-people that yanlin invited me too. it was at up&up and honestly a little...i didn’t enjoy it at all. the music sucked, the people were either too dorky or gross or old or weird, and the whole time i just kept saying to myself, “never again”. they said it was open bar but they only served absolut, which was shit. and then my friend’s two friends were...i feel sorry that this was their first clubbing experience. at the beginning my reaction was look at all these ivy alumni! get hitched with one of them for ~da connectsx~ (and nothing else) but no kidding i was actually interested in talking to them just to get to know what people who graduated from ivies are up to, and what are they doing at such events...and are they actually enjoying themselves because it was really kinda gross. met my friend’s friend who seemed like a really smart engineer (he asked for my number the next day lol), and a german dude at the bar who didn’t want to get me a drink. all i needed that night was a drink.....(i’m glad i didn’t drink tho because recently drinking has made me feel all kinds of bad)  we had ramen after at ramen-ya (most probably the worst ramen and charsiew i’ve had but what can we do at 3am and my friend wanted noodle and soup...)

on sunday i KNow i should have left my house earlier to workout but i didn’t. i was angry at myself that i didn’t. instead, i stayed at home and emotion-ate. i must have eaten more green bean soup than my stomach would have liked. what else...avocado? i remember..two bananas? god. this was the day i felt like i was n’s boyfriend because i had to do what she wanted to do. i know i had agreed on going, but at that point i really wanted to go thrifting or something. i mean when i got to central park it was fine and things were good but the whole day just felt like i was kinda pulled into doing something that wasn’t my first choice of plans, not that i didn’t enjoy myself lying under the sun at the park. it just felt like i was accompanying someone. i was half an hour late to meet her as well, and half heartedly got a burrito-wrap at newsbar. if you think about it it is really kinda funny, we’re just buying food and taking the subway to this grass patch 50 blocks away. we didn’t walk much, we literally only stayed at a little grassy slope overlooking the baseball pitch. anyway we went to a dance class after (the class was an hour long but i felt like n had asked me about when and what time we should book the classes for more than an hour by text so i just got really sick of it) i rushed home and got dinner with my uncle who’s in town for my cousin’s graduation. i was surprised that he chose the same japanese restaurant again, after dissing it half a year ago we ate here. the omakase was crazy and it cost 230 per person. (for the most expensive set) it was also kinda dumb because you aren’t allowed to order a different omakase set from anyone else - everyone on the table has to order the same - because of “timing”. i wonder if this is how it is in japanese omakase etiquette, but in any case it really earned them a hefty amount because my uncle decided to get 230 for all of us. qiyang didn’t like and said qiqi had bad taste, hahaha. the food wasn’t bad, i mean it’s japanese fusion, but the prices were way too steep for the taste. anyway enough about the food, during the dinner i think we talked about many things though. i kinda wanted to talk to my uncle individually because i think he is the only one who knows about ah gong, but he was sick, and i could tell he was exhausted. my aunt got a little impatient because i didn’t arrange plans to take their furniture and they were going to throw all of them away and it was actually the first time i’ve seen her get so worked up - but at the same time trying to control her emotions - because she was talking to me. i could tell she was annoyed though but i tried not to take it personally, and arranged it tomorrow. 

arranging the moving stuff was kinda last minute, i was walking to the library for work one day and i saw a truck that said MakeSpace. i assumed it was a kind of moving company and so i looked them up. they seemed to be pretty okay in terms of their services and so i decided to try them out. confirmation and setting up an appointment went pretty smoothly, except for the part where the guy i think his name was joseph, asked me to give my credit card details over the phone. idk why i did that! i stopped though, and asked him why, to which he replied he wanted to key in with the coupon code. this service has so much gimmicks within the first 2-3 minutes on the phone he was already telling me about how the first pick up is free, and that he will deduct 100$ off the first month...when people give you discounts too easily it just feels like a ploy and a thing they give to everyone, it’s not anything special and it’s probably calculated inside whatever we have to pay. anyway, i was just thinking it would be cheaper (assuming the maximum that i would have to pay is ~$500, as i confirmed with them on the phone yesterday), it’d still be cheaper than starting an apartment lease now and going through the trouble of finding two subletters. 

well. idk, it’s also easy to have things all moved in, i have to find a place to store my perishables!

moving is so much work, and storing things. this reminds me of my paper on airbnb and about the digital nomad lifestyle. it is interesting though, that this is what it has become. but the homogenized aesthetic is something i really cannot stand, in airbnb, in coffeeshops around the world..i am sure you know what i’m talking about. a new york times writer did something about this - he termed it “Airspace” - and apparently it originated from Brooklyn. I guess that’s where the art/avant-garde stuff started. well. keep a look out im gonna write a blogpost about that 

moving on 

nat came to sleepover on sunday night and a few days after because the school kicks you out of the dorms you pay so much for right after your final ends. i forgot if we did something fun but i probably just fell asleep. 

on monday i think i went to f45 and did cardio at Dumbo with Gi. he seems like a pretty nice trainer, the first time i went it was him and another girl Bertha (i think my first f45 was last tuesday) and i felt like i had two personal trainers with me - Gi was cheering me on and Bertha was doing it with me. it felt like such a good workout, one of the best ive had in a while. then work, where i arranged the movers stuff. i also realized i bought the wrong date for my flight ticket as my friends and had to buy one more...............

tuesday was the same f45 in the morning, and the bobst after. didn’t really get much work done at bobst. oh i also viewed a 3BR flex at 160. hella expensive and small, and dates didn’t work out anyway. also the broker who brought us to view the apartment was a very nice tall french man and his name was jean-francois which i couldn’t pronounce and asked nat but still called him jean as in jeen instead of john. this is why i have to learn french. you’re embarrassing. i also went to the itp/ima spring show with shubham which was super cool. there were many cool ideas, and i just wonder if i could create something like that. i didn’t get to see all of the exhibits which i regret, but i remember a few notable projects. one was an installation made with keyboards that randomly clicks, but when you hold your phone up it’ll stop. it’s made using 3d gestures. there’s also one at a gallery for surveillance, this team had a thing they call facebox, and it’s literally a box, that when you open it has a webcam that would capture your face, find you on facebook, and print out an invoice/receipt on how much you have earned for this giant tech company.  what else...an AR project that when you scan a food,  it shows you where the food comes from. nat said that she would love it if menus have something they could scan and then have pictures appear in ~holographic~ format, or maybe in the nearer future something on your phone that shows you a picture of the picture of the food. but isn’t it a surprise tho? sometimes the fun’s in the surprise, you read the description, you know what are the foods you’ll eat, leaving room to imagine or be surprised by how the chef puts it together! anyway, went for dinner with nat and jenny - got vegan shwarma (definitely wasn’t worth $14) and went to get crepes with will after. 

wednesday we were gonna go to the dmv but we weren’t prepared. nat also needed to get her passport and she was lazy. wow the number of times i mentioned her, it feels like she’s my boyfriend at this point. talked to famz, sister, and beatrix. am currently considering if i should even go to beijing or just go straight home. fuck. went to bobst for work but no one was there i was just really sleepy. viewed an apartment at 55 morton (it’s a nice quiet residential street that seems to be tucked away from the loud cars and bars and people) then i went to f45 again-varsity!!! cardio!!!, walked across brooklyn bridge (a little regret although i wanted to walk, but my bag was heavy and there were too many tourists to brisk walk) 

also the reason for this is that after my soba/miso/salad/shrimp dinner last night i was just watching a bunch of netflix shows and it was probably the caffeine from puerto rican roasting company - the barista made me a chai cappuccino with almond milk (3 SHOTS!!!)

me and nat couldn’t sleep, i really think i slept for an hour. i watched so many different shows, yoko and john’s documentary, while we were young, anthony bourdain, i was seriously flipping through all the shows and alternating between amazonprme and youtube and netflix and i even tried watching peaceful cuisine and making the brightness lower and had the sleep mode on and wow i just couldn’t sleep

so yeah the birth of this word vomit 

i am going to create more things

[rainystripe]

{one-shot (?)} ROLL DEEP

pairing: Jughead Jones/Betty Cooper fandom: Riverdale 6773 words Summary/excerpt: “Merry Christmas, jo—y” he mutters to himself after securing a large bite of brownie in his mouth. It’s dark in his room during Christmas, but the darkness fades away as his phone lights up with 5 back to back messages from Betty. It doesn’t take much guessing to wonder what she’s sent.

A greeting of course, and a million colorful emoji.

Jug!

Merry Christmas

!

--

or,

Jughead Jones + Netflix and Chill= Betty Cooper?

AO3

Okay, idk where to start LOL. This is inspired by my own dumb text posts and @sweaters-and-crowns inspired me to write this out. I wrote this shit in an entire sitting until my phone was about to die. ANYWAY, a huge, HUGE thank you to @theatreofexpression, @electromagnetic-waves and @rezfaultsmoke for helping me out with this! Honestly, cannot express my gratitude enough <3

I have the option for a possible follow up chapter just in case I go along with it. But lemme know if one of you is interested in collaborating with the second one?!

lastly, Happy Holidays to everyone reading this.

Being alone wasn’t all that bad. Jughead Jones knew that perfectly well. And it’s not that he’s entirely lonely, he has friends and family.

A very spotty family at that, but there’s always a family there for him. And as of late, his choice of family isn’t one by blood in fact, his best friend and his dad are always there for him. Archie and Fred Andrews are always on call for whenever he needs anything. It’s not that Jughead is some type of beggar, because he isn’t, but when he finds that he needs the comforting warmth of familiar faces, good greasy food, and overall good times, the Andrews men are always a good choice.

It’s December 13th in late 2015 when Archie texts Jughead the password to the Netflix account that had recently Fred opened up. The red haired teen has done nothing but gush about how ‘epic’ and ‘fucking awesome’ the application was and at first Jughead doesn’t understand the hype. He’s heard of it, yeah— who hasn’t? The ads are everywhere and so are the stupid memes. Jughead also didn’t understand why he would  need an online theater since there was a perfectly working on through the Bijou and the Twilight. The later of while held glorious tin encased reels from years past. Nothing could compare to the original format of film, but alas, Jughead was born in a different era: the Digital Age.

“Netflix and Chill”

Just hearing Archie talk about the popular term makes the blue eyed teen grimace as he stuffs a chip into his mouth. Archie has been on a quest to ‘get some girls’ and as far as Jughead knew, no one was biting. He does however, know what the entirety of the football team have been ‘getting some fine ass pussy’ (according to Chuck Clayton) as of late, and the not-subtle locker confessions are always accompanied by the Netflix and Chill combo. He doesn’t quite get what the fuss is all about nor does he care. But one thing is for sure, and that is that Jughead Jones doesn’t want to “chill” with a girl while he could be watching a movie on his own.

Unless that girl was blonde, green eyed and super into movies as he was. Elizabeth Cooper was the only girl that he'd hang out with and that was law. No one else could sit with him through a movie, not even his kid sister Jellybean, as she’d talk through the entire selection of his choice and whine about his top choice films for being ‘boring’. Archie was something else, maybe he’d reconsider the ginger if he’d stop falling asleep during Inglourious Basterds. So, Betty was the perfect candidate for watching a movie or t.v series with.

There’s a strange occurrence one day when they all sit for lunch one day, the blonde plops down and immediately dips her head down to ask them something. They’re outside in the blistering cold and Archie is seated next to her while Jughead sits across from the pair. It’s a normal lunch break  until Betty asks what the meaning to ‘chilling with Netflix...or whatever’ meant.

The redhead next to her strings loudly at the wooden guitar while Jughead swears the apple juice he’s just been drinking might’ve gone up his nose. Their reactions only cause Betty’s authoritative gaze to inquire for more information and in typical Cooper fashion, the look demands answers.

“Uh, w-why do you ask, Betts?” Jughead doesn’t mean to stutter, but he does and he doesn’t know why.

Betty blinks and a blonde brow shoots up “Because... Reggie just asked me if I wanted to ‘chill and netflix’ with him.” Her fingers raise to quote her own words, confusion evident on her face. “And then his goonies started to laugh!” She huffs and purses her lips.

Both Archie and Jughead share a knowing look, one of pity from Jughead and the other of awkwardness from his best friend. While Betty picks and tears at the plastic wrapped around her straw, she mumbles in annoyance, distaste as clear as day on her face.

“Ugh. What does that mean?” she mumbles.

Archie’s chocolate eyes urge Jughead’s own icy ones and vice versa. There’s a tiny tug and pull to see who will let Betty in on the dumb trend, and Jughead finally sighs. It always felt weird to talk about anything dirty or suggestive to wholesome Betty Cooper.

“Err— well, Betty…” when he finally starts, her ears perk up and all of her attention is on the beanie clad boy. The curious look and doe eyes make him gulp.

Why did he suddenly feel bad?

“Reggie is being a dumbo as per usual, so don’t listen to anything that leaves his Colgate mouth. But, if you must know…”

The explaining happens and by the end, Betty is fuming in disgust. Archie plants a comforting hand on her back and Jughead offers up the apple on his tray that he never eats as a condolence, one which Betty gratefully pockets for her walk back home after school.

That night, when he’s lounging in tiny space of his living room, his phone rings. Homework has been finished and his backpack was ready for the next class day. Jughead was fresh out the shower and attempting to write on his laptop when the password is texted to him. He stares at his phone for a good minute and ponders if his slow internet would even entice him to download the app on the older computer. It’s not until another text comes through a few minutes later that Archie reminds him of the web browser alternative that he finally gives in and signs into the page.

Writing was sort of boring and the trailer was actually warm for once thanks to the ancient heater that rumbled to life after kicking it in frustration that cold morning. Jughead turns off the light next to him by the couch, allowing darkness to engulf the tiny trailer. The website is simple enough and he realizes that one account already has been set to be his. He snorts and smiles and proceeds to click on the lazy looking image. He doesn’t know where to start; there is an overwhelming amount of content that’s plastered on the main page.

Mean Girls, The Walking Dead, Pocahontas even. Everything is new and flashy and none of it catches his attention and after scrolling for what felt like forever, a recommendation that he recognizes greets him: Rebel Without A Cause.

“Huh, not bad Netflix, not bad at all.” He mutters.

Jughead watches the entirety of the movie and then he’s watches another, and another. He watches a total of four classic films before his eyes close on him. The laptop eventually goes to sleep and Jughead has a strange dream where he’s the main character in a noir inspired film and Betty is a spy that’s out to get him.

—

Surprisingly enough, Netflix becomes a normal part of Jughead’s daily routine. He often finds himself watching The Twilight Zone while getting ready for school. Other times, he’s sitting on the small two person table in the corner of the kitchen while blowing on the instant ramen that he's made for dinner as Nightmare on Elm Street blares through the speakers of his laptop.

He won’t admit it to anyone because he’s not one to admit to anything, but Jughead finds himself literally chilling while watching Netflix. So maybe the concept of an online Blockbuster isn’t all that bad.

The days go on, and when Christmas break finally arrives, a selection of Christmas themed movies filter through his recommended list. Most of the films that have been selected don’t interest him—sans the original Home Alone (and that one only) so Jughead settles on binging the X-Files and going against the holiday mood that the year has bestowed on the entire planet.

“Santa, kiss my ass. Hello, aliens.”

On Christmas Eve, the trio of friends spend a few hours of the afternoon at Pop’s. Betty and Archie bring gifts and spoil Jughead. While he doesn’t have any gifts to give due to his nonexistent cash flow, he does manage to scavenge enough money from under the couch and the inside of his father's truck to pay for two milkshakes.

“Aww, you didn’t have to, Juggie!” críes Betty, but the look in her eyes say otherwise. If there was a way to describe the word ‘mouthwatering’ it would be the way her jade eyes gloss over with glee at the sight of her favorite treat being placed in front of her. Beside’s, milkshakes usually mark the end of their usual meal, so it was tradition anyway.

“It’s fine, Betty. Trust me. Just enjoy it, please.” The burning embarrassment that’s filling his belly makes him squirm at his version of a gift, but alas, his friends don’t seem to care about the quality or price tag.

“Okay.” Betty pouts back, but she cracks not a second after when her finger dips to scoop up the whipped cream topping the strawberry milkshake. The shy smile on her face makes him smile in return and before he can even register what he’s doing, the maraschino cherry from Betty’s treat is being plucked away from its creamy resting place.

“Jug!” she gasps in mild horror.

A sheepish grin breaks out on Jughead after popping the cherry into his mouth.

In the end, Archie offers his which Betty gratefully accepts and chews on while glaring at the dark haired boy sitting across from her.

Betty’s gift is a new cotton sweater in a cool grey, there’s no hoodie or zipper to it, and while it’s not his usual style, it’s very comfortable and warms him up faster than the broken heater. She’s also gifts him with the annual batch of brownies prepared by her mother, ones which he looked forward to every year. The sinful double chocolate chip fudge brownies were the epitome of heaven on earth that Alice Cooper somehow made every year. It was a treat that contradicts her usual strict style of dieting and control of food for her family, but he had no complains about the brownies, and he never will— unless she changes up the recipe to be skinny. His other gift is a 40 dollar gift card to Pops which Archie swears was the best gift ever since he will be able to reload it whenever he wanted to. A suggestion which Archie throws at him that includes the pink card being reloaded by him for his birthday and the following Christmas.

He’s grateful, he really is. Money is a problem, Jughead grew up with minimal money in his life. Being poor and broke and living off used things was the norm for him. He was still too young to find a job and while his father does provide here and there (albeit rarely being home) Jughead manages.

He always manages.

The internet that runs throughout Sunnyside is a shared connection routing through one main trailer where a guy manages to get illegal access to. It’s not the fastest or the best as every trailer uses the line, but it works fine for him when he’s nestles in bed at night. Being a night owl had its perks, no one was awake when he was, which meant that the internet was free of all the traffic that usually slows it down during the day.

Midnight arrives like any other night. There’s a distant crack in the air, fireworks most likely.

“Merry Christmas, jo—y” he mutters to himself after securing a large bite of brownie in his mouth. It’s dark in his room during Christmas, but the darkness fades away as his phone lights up with 5 back to back messages from Betty. It doesn’t take much guessing to wonder what she’s sent.

A greeting of course, and a million colorful emoji.

Jug!

Merry

Christmas

!

followed by a plethora of green Christmas trees and pink hearts (oddly enough) a few reindeer, presents, bows and confetti. All which she flawlessly executes with the dramatic background effect on the messaging app which lights up with animated fireworks.

“Geez, Betty. An enigma you are.” He reckons out loud before replying with his own simple greeting.

Merry Christmas, Betty. followed by a plain thumbs up.

—

Exactly two years later, 2016 Jughead Jones would have actually laughed in the face of his present self when told that he was in a romantic relationship. A romantic relationship with a girl, not a stranger, but Elizabeth Cooper.

Jughead was sure that love wasn’t for him. Love and affection had screwed him over since the day he was conceived. His father, FP Jones was a recovering alcoholic now, but he he used to be a poor father. A gang leader, drug dealer with major issues. Gladys Jones— his mother, who knows where the hell she’d fucked off to. She claims to be in Toledo with his grandparents and younger sister Jellybean, but who knows really.

Life had gotten complex during the summer of 2017. A local golden boy had been murdered and the mystery of who did it had somehow brought Betty and himself closer together, so close in fact that Jughead realized that his feelings for her were much farther from friendly.

They had their ups and downs as any couple does. At some point he was sure that they just couldn’t work out. It was as if the universe and his cursed destiny tried to pry him from anything good in his life, but he should have known Betty.

Boy, should he have, especially when dealing with Betty and her world famous stubbornness.

Her fight and reassurance kicks him in the face, planting firmly the idea that he controls his own path and destiny. So, ever since their last breakup back during Halloween, things have been well for the young couple. So well in fact that he was sure he was permanently high.

High off Betty Cooper.

A delicious high, one which he couldn’t get enough of. Her scent, her skin, eyes nose and lips, every bit of Betty was a craving that he woke up to every morning. Jughead was still somewhat shy and awkward around her, that was who he was in personality. He wasn’t some stud who walked around oozing sex appeal and constantly grabbing his girlfriends ass while out in public. Far from it.

Behind closed doors and in the comfort of certain places, both teens found solace in each other’s arms. A comfort and warm that could brave anything the outside world brought to them. No attempt at joining his father's ex-gang could break them. Alice Cooper’s demands to leave FP’s son in Southside went on deaf ears.

Jughead muttered words of love to Betty.

“I love you...I love you.”

She’d watched in surprise at his confession, one which filled her with so much joy that she found the words to mutter them back with tears looking at her jade eyes as she inched closer with a heart crushing smile on her face.

“Jughead Jones, I love you.”

Betty was a part of him then and an even more important one now.

The warm scent of coconut wafts up his nostrils. It’s Christmas again, and this year Betty is spending it with him in the dinky trailer. It’s cold inside and neither teen have bothered to separate from each other to run out and grab the portable heater that Betty had brought along.

Betty’s lips are on his, working through a wet frenzy that makes his stomach clench in need. Their kiss is sloppy to say the least. Long have the brownies been forgotten. The fresh sweets where the reason as to why she was with him in the first place, having begged Alice to let her take the car to drop them off. Even though it was midnight now, Betty had perfectly mapped out when to ask and leave the house.

“Mm—Betty, your mom—“  Jughead muttered between kisses.

“—is asleep” she replied around a mouthful full of tongue. Feverish kisses filled the air of the cramped trailer, their mouths digging deeper into one another. Betty whimpered at the feel of Jughead’s tongue curling against her own, her hands coming down to keep her steady against the edges of the couch.

“You sure?”

“Positive, now shut up and kiss me.” She smiled into his lips. The blue eyed boy eyes crinkled in response, a mischievous smile creeping tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“If you say so.” He finished before attacking her moist lips once more. Teeth came in contact and wet sounds filled the air. The short gasps of air warmed up their faces as they continued to kiss until Betty was resting her back against the worn out cushions of the couch.

This Christmas was already starting off with a literal bang and Jughead had never been so excited for any holiday in his life.

Nimble fingers slip into midnight curls, tugging Jughead closer into her mouth. The same fingers feel good against his scalp which send a delicious sensation down his spine and across his entire body. He’s positioned himself above the blonde, making sure not to crush her by hoisting his body up by one knee in between her legs while the other hangs off the couch. Betty’s legs however, are a different story. The couch was far too small and they were both too tall. One of Betty’s legs is propped up against the headrest of the couch while the other struggles to stay curled around his hanging leg. Gravity doesn’t help and her leg is constantly dragging down before she hoists it back up into place.

Betty notes the taste on his lips and tongue, it’s sweet from the brownies and strong from the coffee he’d downed earlier. The taste is delicious and she can’t get enough and makes sure to let it be known when she curls her tongue against his own, sucking on it lightly. The action causes the deep rumble of his moan to rip through the deepest reaches of his body. It strikes her as super sexy and she moans back.

Jughead latches onto her bottom lip, knipping it softly before plucking it. Her cherry lips are engorged and plump, screaming in a lovely tint that only beckons him to return. Her chest is heaving and his hand reaches out to lift the peach colored top from her body. The tiniest brush against her skin burns him and suddenly the room is no longer freezing, but scalding hot.

Sucking in a ragged breath, Betty manages to lift the top half of her body and arms to remove her sweater, leaving her in a flower patterned lace bra. The laptop screen is still bright in front of them. Home Alone is playing in the background and the hotel scene manages to accentuate the lighting around Betty.

Jughead swallows at the mere sight of Betty’s glowing honey eyes under the effect of the screen. A sheen of gloss on her lips blinds him and he wants nothing more than to kiss her again.

He’s about to lean down when she stops with him with a warm hand on his chest.

Her usually alert eyes are blown wide and lust envelops the usually sweet girl. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth and Jughead feels his mouth go dry.

Betty is stunning.

The swell of her breasts calls to him and he can’t get close. The periwinkle tinted bra is tight against her skin and he wonders if he can free her from it soon. Betty, however has other plans. She shoots him a shy look and avoids eye contact and she wiggles out of her skirt.

“Betty?” He whispers. Why? He doesn’t know. It’s not like there’s someone else in the trailer.

When the fabric reaches her knees, Jughead takes it as a signal to move back and give her space to watch her as she lifts her long legs in the air to dispose of the wine colored skirt.

It’s a sight, and wonderful one at that. Long creamy legs, supple thighs and matching set of underwear greet him and blue eyes watch intently as Betty bends both knees in front of her stomach. Her pink sneakers dangle in front if him as her arms reach for her knees, hugging them close to her chest. A teasing smile causes his boxers to feel tighter. Blood pumps down south and Jughead groans. The only time that he chooses to wear boxers briefs too. The strain is stifling and he feels the urge to get naked then and there.

“Betts…” He sighs in desperation. He doesn’t know why she’s huddled up or why she’s smiling at him him like that, but damn does she looks good enough to eat.

“Jug…” she copies. Her hands move from cupping her knees to roaming down her legs all while keeping her knees close. It’s a movement that baby blue eyes never stray away from.

Jughead’s eyes widen slightly, urging her on. “Yeah?”

Suddenly she’s nervous, very nervous. There’s something that she’s been wanting for a few days now, a repeat of what they first tried a week prior. An experiment that involved Jughead’s mouth. It’s hunted her, the thought and memories combined with feelings causing arousal to pool in between her legs.

She can’t help wanting to stop their act to get a dose of his mouth on her nether region, but the need is incredibly strong and her panties only become wetter by the second.

“I want you...here.” Her legs part slightly, allowing enough space for her arm to budge through her thigh to cover her sex through her underwear. Betty gulps in anticipation, wondering if Jughead will say no and if she’s ruined the moment with her request.

Their sexual history was tame, wild missionary sex with the occasional ass in the air for Betty as Jughead pounds at her from behind. Sex was new, and they’d only been experimenting for a few weeks, so introducing something new was always nerve wracking. Betty remembers how shy he’d been when she had stuffed her hand into his jeans two nights after their loss of virginity. A day after that Jughead rubbed her into an orgasm over her panties while waiting for school to start. Even then, they’d both fumbled during the entire process. A series of apologies littered the entire thing consummation.

They were wet behind the ears, yes, but that didn’t stop two hormonal teenagers from lusting after each other. Two weeks prior, Jughead managed to gather his thoughts and went down on Betty for the first time, earning him a wet nose and chin with a thigh crushing orgasm against his head from Betty all while doing it on her childhood bed. It must have been good enough to want her to ask for seconds, because his heart has leapt at her sudden request.

“Oh.” He said lightly.

Noticing his response not being as enthusiastic as she’d imagined it be, Betty’s legs slowly drop back down, embarrassment engulfing her. Again, her heart quickens and a dull ring is the only thing that she can properly register. Quickly, she moves to sit up, green eyes avoiding his. The shame in her face is obvious and Betty feels stupid for ruining the moment.

Why couldn’t she have just let nature take its course without having to interrupt it for her own selfish needs?

“You know, never mind.” A nervous laugh escapes her and Betty is moving to sit up but Jughead stops her. The boy moves in closer to her, and her legs are nudged apart. Her heart slams against her chest and Betty is blinking up at Jughead in surprise.

“It’s okay, Betty. I’ll do it...you don’t have to ask.” He adds shyly. His eyes wander to hers, locking together that it becomes hard to look away.

It was surprising that she’s asked him to repeat the act. The first time was sloppy and not how he’d imagine it to be, but he had managed to make her come and since it was never brought up again until now, Jughead had guessed she didn’t like it.

But now, his member was growing stiffer against his boxers the longer that he thought about tasting Betty again.

“Oh, I just…” her green eyes also wander off with an equally awkward look on her face, but  her focus moves to his pajama pants where a bulge was beginning to form. The red in her cheeks is adorable and Jughead suddenly leans down to kiss her, catching her off guard. Betty gasps into the kiss, opening her mouth wider for Jughead’s tongue to invade every inch. The kiss gets heated, and Jughead body pushes down against her own, making Betty lay down once again.

As they kiss, Jughead inhales deeply, enjoying the mewls that escaped Betty when taking her leg to prop back up against the headrest. His hand trails down from her knee, down the smooth skin of her inner thigh.

The continue to kiss with Betty breaking contact to shuffle closer down towards his knee, spreading her legs even wider in the process by hooking an arm under her other leg. Kisses are placed against his jaw and down the exposed skin of his neck. It’s only when her nose nuzzles his sweater does he realize that he’s still fully clothed.

Jughead shrugs off the material in a hurry, his hair becoming a mess of curls jutting in every direction, a look which makes Betty bite at the corner of her bottom lip.

He looks delicious.

Shirtless, with wild hair and a trail of dark hair that disappears into his pajama pants. Jughead makes Betty’s clit throb in need, so much so that her hand leaves her leg to cup her center instead. The fabric is moist to the touch and Betty gasps at how sensitive she feels at the simplest of pressure.

“Juggie…”

Jughead’s stormy eyes shine black under the light of the laptop screen, the shadows cast complex shadows on Jughead’s body which cause Betty to lick at her lips when trailing her eyes down his exposed chest and hips. The black band of his boxers pokes through the blue hues of the plaid pattern of his bottoms. The dip in his hips is sharp and balances out the smooth taut skin of his abdomen while his arms fill out with a strong bulk of muscle that works for his body type: not too much but enough to make her mouth water.

“Lay back Betty.”

And she does, head coming in contact with the wood skeleton of the ancient armrest. The butterflies in her stomach suddenly burst into a flurry of excitement that make her suck in a breath of anticipation. Both of her hands come to lay on her stomach, her chest rising and falling at an alarming rate.

“I’m gonna go down on you, okay?” It's not until Jughead moves slightly that Betty ss able to see how deep his eyes have darkened, the pupils of his eyes gone pitch black with a single ring of blue circling the iris. The look alone cause her walls to pulse on their own and Betty nods.

“Okay.”

The movie is long forgotten and the brownies are as cold by then. Jughead finds a spot on his stomach to lay on, its cramped on the couch. It’s one of the time where he wishes he could move them to the bed, but all that walking would ruin some of the mood.

When he’s nestled in front Betty’s spread legs, her arousal become more evident. There’s a dark patch on her panties and the fabric sticks to her folds like a second skin.

“Jug…”

He glances up at Betty, who’d eventually moved up a bit to give him space. Her blonde head now rests on the armrest, one leg still up on the head rest while the other is dangled off his couch. Betty’s green eyes were dark and glazed over in need, both her hands fisted at her hips.

“Sorry, babe.” Her arousal was strong, enticing and doing things to him. Jughead’s hand move to hover above her panty before hooking a finger right over the soaked spot to push the material to the side, exposing Betty to the cool air. She shudders at the exposure and shifts slightly. It’s still somewhat embarrassing to be so exposed, but Jughead boosts a confidence in her that she was sure she didn’t have before and she loves it.

Gulping at the sight, Jughead inches closer to Betty, the elegant slit, moist and beckoning for attention.

“You know, somehow this is better than those brownies.” He muses, smirking.

Betty’s cheeks flame up at the comment and her legs move to close before he’s reaching up to push them apart.

She’s embarrassed and rightfully so, they both have yet to stare openly at each other so intimately.

“Please” She whispers. “I want this.” Betty whines and bucks her hips, rolling them in want. The blonde patch of hair above her pink folds is always a sight to behold. It’s cute and suits her and while he didn’t understand her need to trim, Jughead decides that it is very Betty like to have and quite frankly, he doesn’t care how she looks like down there.

His fingers brush over the tougher hair, tugging at it slightly before running them down her moist lips. And in one swoop, his face is burying down on to her warm core.

Nose deep, Jughead sucks in the air around him, slowing down to breath while indulging in Betty. A shudder rips through her body and she shakes beneath him with a moan so loud that it alarms even herself. Immediately, her hands reach to grab onto anything. And Betty finds her nails digging into the back of the armrest and the cushion beneath her. Her body arches, hips rolling into her boyfriends mouth while her body twists in pleasure. The shaking never stops and Betty knows she isn’t cold.

“Ah—“ she cries out. Jughead closes his eyes, his tongue rolling up and down Betty’s folds, making sure to stop on her clit to rub circles on the bundle of nerves. She’s shaking and he smirks into her skin.

Her body hasn’t been stimulated like that, with a ravenous mouth. As it stands, the young couple are novices who only have missionary (for the most part.) sex. So, having Jughead delicately grind his soft tongue against her aching clit sends her over the moon and Betty finds that her body won’t stop shaking from excitement.

The taste is something he can’t describe. It’s unlike anything he’s tasted before, but he likes it. It’s Betty and he’s causing her to release her juices. A boost of confidence washes over him and his mouth continues to work harder. Jughead’s dark head swivels against Betty, and she blushes when she catches a glimpse of his work.

Up, down, side to side, his tongue laps through pink folds. He even comes in contact with her entrance, teasing it with a few light probes which cause her to gasp and scramble to sit up on her elbows. He’s doing something right and he continues to pleasure Betty even more.

“Ooh, like that, Juggie...oh.” Betty moans, watching Jughead’s dark head go to work on her. The view is intoxicating and it’s hard to register that the act is happening to her. The sight is in fact her underwear, her patch of blonde, all which bluntly remind her that Jughead Jones is buried nose deep in her pussy.

She tosses her head back in ecstasy the moment the sucking on her engorged clit becomes too much. The pleasure is tingling and her body is on fire. Betty’s blonde tresses have long been let loose and she runs her fingers through her hair, gripping at the scalp to control the moans that she’s too embarrassed to release and Jughead takes notice.

The sucking become quicker, matching his beating heart, a rapid motion that causes Betty to gasp loudly. Her green eyes snap down to stare at him in awe, pink lips parted. Tiny moans and ‘yes, yes’ invade his body urging him on.

The sucking become sloppy, and Jughead returns to licking her wildly while Betty grinds her sex against his mouth. Her cries are starting to become louder, the filter slowly disappearing.

“That’s it, no need to hold it in.” He pauses to urge her on. He wants to hear Betty, he wants to hear and see how badly she wants him. The strain in his boxers is unbearable and at some point Jughead finds his own hips grinding into the corners of the cushion to release some friction. The gyration against his hips against the cushion only urges him on and before both know it, his mouth back on Betty. Jughead’s hunger is amplified by the use of his tongue on Betty.

“Oh fuck—“ the sob that tears through the living room makes Jughead stop his actions. The sight of Betty riding through her orgasm is indescribable. Like an flower bud finally unraveling and blossoming, Betty is a literal description of the act. Betty gasps, her breath hitching as her body shakes and her hips snap in front of him three times. Tiny grunts explode from her shaking body and the sounds make Jughead shudder.

The scene is erotic and beautiful, better than any scene in any movie.

“Wow.” Breaths Jughead after she’s landed back down. The shaking has minimized but her thighs still twitch against the sides of his arms. Betty pushes up against the corner of the couch with a finger trapped in her teeth. Her blonde locks are a mess and cover her eyes but to Jughead, it as the sexiest thing he’s ever witnessed.

The tired smile that Betty manages blows the air right out of him.

“God, Betty. That was...stunning.” He breathes, leaning over to her and brushing the golden strands away from her face.

“Mm, you’re so good at that, Jug.” She croaks, her voice light as she struggled to catch her breath. Somehow, Betty finds the will to smirk seductively at him. Jughead groans. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Again, all Betty can manage to do is groan and tug him down for a kiss.

“I love you, Juggie. I love you so much.” Her declaration make his heart swell, as well as his cock. He’s sure that she’s sucking on his lower lip to taste herself, and it’s made more obvious when she laps at the bottom of his lip.

“Thank you.” She’s still shaking and her stomach continues to jerk against her will and Jughead notices when his hand brushes her navel.

And Betty can taste herself, she can also smell herself which makes her stomach coil in need. She has had a mind blowing orgasm, and she wanted more. But she was sure that she couldn’t  go through another one so soon, but she finds Jughead’s hand and leads his fingers to her sensitive folds.

“You did that.” Betty whispers hotly against his ears.

Jughead sucks in a breath and nods, his voice lowering. “I did…”

“Mm.”

The silent foreplay continues and Jughead doesn’t move from his position right above Betty. He continues to rub lazily along her even slicker folds which cause her to gasp and buck her hips. Jughead loves the result that he’s caused. When he comes in contact with her swollen clit, Betty jerks and immediately grabs him by the wrists and shoots him a shy look.

“I don’t think I can do another one just yet.” Biting her lip, Betty blinks up at him and Jughead nods, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

Jughead freezes, silently cursing for kissing her there right after where he’s mouth has been.  Betty seems to notice and giggles.

“It’s okay, Jug. I’ll take a shower as soon as I get home...which I should be doing right about--“ when reaching for her phone on the coffee table, the blonde just about shoots up a foot high.

“Ohmygod.”

“Ohmygod, Jug. I gotta go! My mom's going to kill me!” Like a hurricane, Betty sprints from the couch only stopping to fix her underwear before she’s slipping the crumpled skirt back over her legs and Jughead frowns.

Really?

As confused as he is, he still manages to move out of her way. What time was it anyway? She’s been over for what? Two hours? Also, Betty had been positive that her mother would be knocked out by now.

“Betty, I’m sure your mom won’t notice—“  Betty interrupts him as soon as he starts by shoving her phone in his face. It’s 3:24 am and there are three missed calls and a text: all from ‘Momster’

“Oh shit. Betty.” Jughead’s eyes had gone wide and he moves to help her move along. He guesses that he can live with blue balls than face the wrath of Alice Cooper. After all, he can always get access to Betty when he wants to and if he asks nicely. But for now, he’s helping her by throwing the red scarf over her shoulder and wrapping it as best as he can while she retires her hair.

“She’s going to murder me. When did it become 3?” The panic is evident and he feels bad for her. If he could, he would show up to doorstep and take the verbal beating instead.

“Better yet, why is she still up?” Jughead muses. Betty stops and wonders, but shakes her head after a moment. Time was precious and Alice Cooper did not wait. Taking her bag from the single seat, she leans in and plants a kiss on his lips. “I’m sorry I couldn’t...help you out.”

Both teens move to look at his crotch and Jughead coughs. Turning at an angle to avoid the attention that his erection was receiving. It's not as bad as it was earlier, all the Alice talk ruining the mood in the end.

“It’s fine. No need to worry about me, Betts.”

Betty shoots him a sad smile, she really does feel bad. She wanted more but they had no time. So instead she makes a promise. Jughead blinks when Betty steps closer, her warm breath, ghosting over his ear.

“I’ll make it up to you. Think of it as part two to your present?” His body shudders with excitement at the thought. His body also freezes at the hand that squeezes at his cock through the thin material of his pajama bottoms.

“Be—“

Betty Cooper winks and waves before she’s out the door and running towards the station wagon parked in front of the trailer. Jughead stands there for a split second before rushing to the door, watching as the head beams light up the makeshift driveway and as Betty pulls out. She manages a wave through the window and he returns it. The station wagon peels out of Sunnyside Park, driving off into the distance.

Once she’s gone, Jughead takes a quick shower and drops into the bed in a heap of sexual frustration. He’d tried to help himself out under the cool water that the trailer managed to pump out, but he didn’t get far. A hand did not compare to Betty’s hands and lips. He can’t help the lingering arousal but the night had been fun and it turned out different than what he expected. It’s a Christmas completely different to the previous ones before and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When he’s nestled into the warm sheets, his phone lights up.

A message from Betty.

Netflix and Chill? My house 6:40 sharp. Parents are visiting Polly.

He snorts at the term, the same term which he now remembers caused Betty to make the stinkiest face he’s ever seen. It’s not something he’d like back then, but he’s suddenly very grateful for Archie talking so much about the app that it somehow brought Betty and Jughead together for Christmas.

And besides, it’s not like they’ll be watching anything. There has to be something to distract them to set the mood. Who really watches a movie when they have a significant other anymore?

Netflix and Chill? You bet.

The phone clicks as it’s turned off and Jughead grins in the darkness, excited for the next couple of hours.

—-

merry chrystler, murry curr’mas!!

[castlehead]

:a Not which one is right but which one is more like you Let's start now // this is a few makeshifts on the deity,

dint realize y i was gettin poor marks in college till i realized comic sans wasnt mla format for essays, but i kept on with it bc im anti establishment and my dope ass literary insights should speak for themselves.

my 'experimentation' as one nonplussed professor put it, with the font, progressively got crazier, and in the end i was doin all caps zapf wingdings mized wih herculanum

needless to say, i got my degree.. IN BEIN A BOSS.

na but yeah i got kicked out of that school. still bummin on campus actually, and probably psychotic from this ecstasy i keep taking. this guy in f comp makes his own, has a pill press nd everything.

the shoes i original got as a college present from my parents got stolen, or in any case i woke up in a snow drift next to the commons dumpster without them on, so i just wear slippers. my toes are purple. ther always feels like there is something in my teeth or throat i cannot dislodge. i am the campus transient, avoiding th. RAs and ignoring the eviction notices. like raping the willing, one cannot be evicted if one is homeless. with the help of a few friends i sold drugs to when my rents still gave me money and i was still enrolled, i alternate between various dormitory hovels, hiding out from the campus police like some ghastly dysfunctional version of anne frank.

i havent taken my pills and smell. i emaciate my already rejected body, rejected by the establishment goons, with cocaine, and remind myself of the leftover chicken carcass and neatly lined bones whose tomb was a disgusting box of dominos buffalo wings i ordred and consumed my first semester here and that remained in the same place until i abandoned that radioactive dormroom to die slowly and painfully, and metaphorically, since living quarters do not possess life. i am starting tho to wonder if i myself possess that as well or if i did once and now am but a structure, a part of the collegiate landscape, sniffed at by diligent students and attempted to get thru to by intellectual slackers, decadent addicts themselves on their way to where i am, and wooks who need someone to smoke with on a sunday 4 am and know i always keep track of what festis are goin on on campus; i receive the next round of empathy from a new stranger who maybe heard of me or has seen me around and wondered what i was still doing here.

empathy, empathy, curiosity as to the quirky insane dude fried by mdma and a shitload of adderall for no purpose bc i have no practical skills. a monotony of empathy ripping off and using for the metaphorical shit on my metaphorical ass, like swquares of toilet paper who fancy me a hobo poet in need of on top of text books i never opened, on a desk i used as a trash receptacle. and speaking of wings, i think i might be literally going into a dissociative state because all the leaves on the trees look like zapf wingdings. my clavicle is not only visible but sticks out of my body further than my chest does.

watch out for hell day today, for something godlier than god. i deliver it.

The effect I wish to give, as it always has been, is that of a truth clearly viewed, in utter horror. Gods factotum, shuffling thru abandoned files that sometime held a secret forgotten, tho no less true now, and the horror perhaps, that we forgot something so crucially, fundamentally true, and so long ago.

​this work is twisted, sad, manic, strange, fluid, stilted, inappropriate, foolish, magnificent.

if god doesnt exist, neither does the version of myself with dreadlocks

. .  .   .    .     .      .

one has no choice in the end but to resign oneself, and drop their head. and yet, where do they look, if one in shrinking away for the purpose of humbling hisself afore the god of anxiety, and receiving his respite, knows nothing more than but to resign? where is the clarity here? there is no clarity 'here'. it is there, and come upon in moments of fear and trembling at the dread chaos, the doubt in a heart and split in a mind.

it is there, for one is staring at the ground, awaiting an end to the necessary aversion from the sight of a higher morsel of GOD.

. .  .   .    .     .      .

atheism should not be an opinion it is not the result of not believing in god it is simply living life without a thought as to a religious god. we are not reacting to religion we are IN reality just as the catholic is IN reality. saying "I don't believe in god" is like equating nothingness to a lack of everything. there is no reactive state to atheism at its purest. it is not an acknowledgment, in other words, of no god, but an acknowledgment of what is before one's eyes, this vast neutral space I defy you to say is different from the religious folks' apprehension of objects and desires, all before them, swimming in ghostly revelry or not, only figurations anyway. o this insanely divided world.

i have a secular conception of god based on my teleological hypotheses re the nature of a causa prima, causa sui. it's the definitions that need defining, not the thing with a name on it that needs explaining. physics already does that.

remove intent for the case of nihilism, and you will have what i am saying here. no case at all. no 'response' so to speak. atheism can be evangelical

im not an evangelical atheist because what i believe changes based on the day but is always just as real haha. belief is tenuous. i go by that

it's the definitions that need defining, not the thing that needs explaining.

my conception of god is that it is the only thing that does not exist. so in a way, yes, i am an atheist.

'God' as defined in its easiest terms, is an ultimate uniquity. like, an outstanding substance. anyway, idk. at the end of the day idk haha

Kant's own a priori notional form of perception comes to mind. in front of our eyes is what is real. the observer initiates the ocular nerve, and the thing or situation burns into the receiving blankness of the mind.

like, have we reaped all the possible benefits of fire by now? surely the wails of prometheus fall not on deaf ears!

. .  .   .    .     .      .

twisted, sad, manic, strange, fluid, stilted, inappropriate, foolish, magnificent.

. .  .   .    .     .      .

green tortilla chips my ass. he said with no attempt at disguising incredulity, wiping the tears from his brow.

. .  .   .    .     .      .

whereas god is all, i am only myself, knowledgeable of only myself; therefore, unless god is simultaneously aware of being myself alone along with being everything, and of that everything knowledgeable of each and every thing as if god were only that thing, i am then let in on an experience of individuality that god is unaware of.

this is a question of how to be the most purely omniscient, omnipotent, etc. that is the question that our conception of god is asking.

corollary: if in the case of being simultaneously the experience i have of myself, and being all, then it is quite logical to say that our experience in life is in fact a godly experience, since i, too, would be unaware of being all, as goes the route of any human perception of things.

when i say i am only aware of myself i mean it in ontological terms, fyi -and also in, i will admit, somewhat absolutist terms. of course as people, psychologically, we can put ourselves in another's shoes, step outside of our comfort zone, change an opinion [or five] and every person is an environmental sponge -we can adopt varying personality traits from the culture we is born into etc. -this argument presupposes an absolute view, kinda,- in that, IF this were how it went, it wld go such nd such -this statement of mine does not examine a phenomenological or spiritual connection between people but examines the relativity and possible logical gaps in -the idea, or notion if you prefer- of omniscience.- there is only theory haha <#

we create our gods but they exist as much as we do

. .  .   .    .     .      .

turn your back, find yourself faceless, at least, to someone.

. .  .   .    .     .      .

wondering if I got a problm w. th prostate bc sometimes when I feel a shit coming I piss n it goes away. Don't change much re bathroom routine tho since I already sit down wen I pee in the first place, and according to my second ex wife this means I am a lazy fat whore

interested in the concept of the devout as being the truest sceptics.

. .  .   .    .     .      .

Thought has the coherence of being but is not being, i.e. beginning and ending in our living heads as something not itself alive, but a mere transfer of connection willed consciously to create that inert unbreathing grand called the magnificent bullshit, the idea.

the quiet horror of the mundane dailyness.

. .  .   .    .     .      .

i think something elitist and say within, Well that was elitist wasnt it, dan. then pat myself on the back at my ability to check my arrogance, specifically when i see the thought thru the lens of something a cousin of mine with generally liberal views and empathy who fishes in alaska for money and lives off the grid would remark to himself. then, i get slightly nauseated after mentally leafing thru all the times i have been proud of mentally criticizing myself for something in the first place outwardly bad. and there goes on the circular drudge of ugliness, not evaded outright, but felt the pangs of guilt in the says within, that say me again and again in my inertial brood, of void i would hope, of searching for clarity i wish, but that is probably more like a moralizing, limited gauge, like feeling better about something ugly that is yr fault by feeling bad about it for a little so you can get that part over with without the possibility of another harder wave of guilt for not feeling bad at all about the ugly thing, and therewith reacting with doubts to doubtful reactions, until yr whole value system is a wilderness of mirrors.

. .  .   .    .     .      .

im a perfectionist when it comes to sensation. the beautiful feeling must be experienced in the proper setting that would maximize its potential. i think this is y i used to do lots of drugs, which by nature are the commodification of sensations. probably also y i was super miserable doing them and kept doing them despite that. there is a certain ring of the hoarder or magpie in this perfectionism that wants to connect physicality with ego that i see as well in the idea of paying money to literally feel specific sensations; equally, the result of this on the psyche is as tenuous here as with the futile idea of thinking the perfect setting for doing drugs is always at hand, which it rarely is, or at the least there is something to mar the perfect dream, that dragon, that pursuit of happiness, life, and liberty via thinking on how best situate the chains to, in essence, 'maximize' your mobility, but nathless remaining held in doom. the drug world, uh, is itself volatile; perfectionism and volatility dont jive so well, usually. and so on. hm. hegh.

heh.

. .  .   .    .     .      .

I only like Eminem rap and that one NWA song like hell naw the rest is garbage now let me go back to my trailer in the woods where I live in harmony with the Elves who have seemed to appear more frequently now that I have that bathtub meth dungeon set up in my basement where skynerd plays ceaselessly from an unlocatable place. My hero is Ed Gein. But I don't do the lampshade thing. I do however have a human skull I bought from my buddy who owns a war relics and parephernalia shop, he had to go in the back to get it and lock the store so nobodys would come snoop. Turns out some folks comed snoop to see if he figured any more available and he got mad at me for blabbing, an I said, Giles, ya know I ain't blabbing, but he dint believe it, an now we just kinder avoid each other at the local NA meetin. People tryn cop there and some do and theys go behind the water tower tagitit, I int do that part tho, a tad fucked up I mean, these people try n getting clean an all, why make it harder n it eyis? But if y'all wanit I get it tiya, come by and share a chaw almighty God. Gib ye a gude price too. *PATOOEY* I. Uh am sober myself. 20 yrs. but damn ye ye make a buck more n working garbage detail selling home cooked meth I reckon ye. Don't touch the stuff I don't anymore after I heard this queer fella from out a town got his arm chopped off when he mainlined eyit. Tryn I guess do some sex stuff and a days travel from the city. City folk don't know it's diffeRent strength down here's doe. I reckon. *MEDITATIVE PATOOEY* yes sirn. Huhm.

. .  .   .    .     .      .

The thing abt the Sex Pistols is, tho they engineered the punk genre immeasurably, they seem to no longer be in the cultural conversation, except within factions of grey haired aficionados. Even the more radio friendly The Clash seems notably absent in this regard. Has punk developed beyond its early stages, or is punk, being the genre that it is, dependent on whatever the moments youth zeitgeist is? punk is visceral because it is held in time this way. first gen punk, cbgbs headliners of ago and ago, do not exert these days the same walbreaking feel, bc I think there's so much virtuosic music being made today that the path of what will develop is harder to determine. Musicians in throes break down walls without batting an eye. Any musical iconoclasm expressed in the music of the past, then, especially to the contemporary ear, is bound to seem bathetic. Like microaggressions as expressions of racism, our society's opening of mind leads to a closed mind, as one can justify not being racist by simply saying they do not think they are better than marginalized peoples, have never done anything racist, think we are all equal, are not clansmen lol. what ruffles feathers is less obvious, in turn, bc expressions of the ersatz new and the real new are harder and harder to determine. The surplus of media, ideas, and opinions, I think, will lead us to a place where "cultural norm" becomes an oxymoron, hopefully. But then, what else will be left to invigorate, if so much is already so much done out, already? Does there exist a perspective, artistic or no, that is not liable to become passé? Or even some thought never thought before? I know there is, I for one know there is, because as a poet I see much to fix, and much that I work to do bc I see it nowhere else; and this most crucially is not an impression of mine based on today's lit but every days lit there has ever been, throughout history. Just I can literally not even yo, yo

. .  .   .    .     .      .

Mathsmatics can transcend thru the grandeur of its implications but not thru the means towards said implications; philo can do the same, but it's better penchant is for transcending thru means to electrify a mundane conclusion or give a system of reason to a general thought-trope such as, "reality is an illusion" or whichever flat idea u prefer to follow. Since it is pure logos, philo differs from math in being more readily universal; tho the applications of math are more readilly useful than the positives that come with mental clarity at the understanding an achieved unified system. Poetry is all means, so then must dazzle, and needs no evidence, conclusion, or even subject, but need only sway with beauty. Therein is the problem with the existential issue of selfhood. Reductive analysis of self becomes psych, and the only pure philo to be had in selfhoods exegesis is not to be found in anything like a system of proofs or syllogisms, etc. selfhood, as Kierkegaard recognized, is poetic bc it exacerbates reality, exhausts all of it. it is individual, and so copious a thing has no one forged path to what it is, or even any path at all, to what it is, since like Pascals God the self is a circle whose point is everywhere and circumference nowhere. Figuring out a reality via a teleology or thru logic is nicer to attempts at systems. But individual self is too mucky for any proof to say it exists; the murkiness shines, as it always does, when the means are prevalent, since the means, being held moment to moment, rely on nothing but expose a variety of paths to more variety. Philo then is better at least than Math for finding out something obfuscated, but nothing but poetry can so deeply probe the self, as its humility is lain in the respect for a complete dissembling of systems.

. .  .   .    .     .      .

the iconic ny jewish deli sandwich is in essence a robust mountain of roast beef held feebly between two unnecessary pieces of sad, chickenshit marble rye

the roast beef, of course, wld be kosher.

I create; I waste. Yet nothing is perfect, nothing, nothing. Not even dignity.

[led123123]

asians.. take their shoes before they go inside the house.. and they have special pair to go to bathroom

I was like.. outside again today.. and.. all I was doing.. was.. watching.. sky.. basically. because I had nothing else to do. it looked good. nice colors. blue sky. green earth.. white clouds..

biting goes good today.. thank god.. I didn’t have to work too hard today.. basically.. most of the time I just.. stared at trees sky clouds and.. grass

I like this kind of work better.. I couldn’t start a truck.. basically I was just staring at blue sky clouds grass and green trees today

I didn’t know how to start engine.. a car.. and I figured it out. it took me a lot of time to figure out how to start car

and I f*cking felt like a dumbass.. 

after I managed to start it

I feel so dumb..

so I like.. still.. was biting on the.. first molar on the side that I wasn’t biting before.. but not I’m moving to 2nd molar

https://youtu.be/q_eo5j5sib8

https://youtu.be/O6BJiije6m4?t=9

okay.. I’m installing new hard drive.. maybe he unboxed my hard drive because I didn’t give him money back for this hard drive.. because I didn’t think that I had any money in wallet.. but I found some and gave him back maybe I don’t know.. that was kinda.. he oves me a lot of money anyway so that was asshole move of him to do that

installed new hard drive in PC.. it’s a little loud.. so I will have to.. like.. wrap it in something to make it more quiet

it’s kinda loud.. I will have to wrap it in something to remove this noise

https://youtu.be/SeNEK3W9fRc?t=54

it’s a little loud

https://youtu.be/SeNEK3W9fRc?t=147

https://youtu.be/LrmatvP5czo?t=74

https://youtu.be/LrmatvP5czo?t=188

https://youtu.be/LrmatvP5czo?t=222

it’s not super loud.. but I wanted to use rubber or sth

https://images.app.goo.gl/KLTysTZnkMArkKYJ8

this new hard drive doesn’t have automatic acoustic management. but one that I bought before has it

https://youtu.be/mpxBmxj5mP0?t=42

it’s not that loud.. but I should use a rubber to reduce vibrations

https://youtu.be/eeXXz_qTXVM?t=59

https://youtu.be/fw698TBdnmg?t=480

https://youtu.be/fw698TBdnmg?t=391

https://youtu.be/fw698TBdnmg?t=418

I know their songs.. I was listening a lot to 

https://youtu.be/aRTfQ16wbjM

this one was I listened to the most

and this girl was singing in this song

https://youtu.be/Ihi_kJJj_8A

https://youtu.be/Ihi_kJJj_8A?t=61

https://youtu.be/6UpFrXiGAjY?t=21

she was singing chorus in this song

https://youtu.be/6UpFrXiGAjY?t=65

that’s some new songs

https://youtu.be/fw698TBdnmg?t=417

https://youtu.be/vLbfv-AAyvQ

https://youtu.be/vLbfv-AAyvQ?t=57

https://youtu.be/c-3vPxKdj6o?t=2

https://youtu.be/c-3vPxKdj6o?t=211

wow she kinda looks like.. idk.. like.. is that a girl or a boy I don’t know

but she looks like.. I think I mean idk like him I think it kinda.. I don’t know

https://youtu.be/FEqNdMu1BBI?t=1032

https://youtu.be/FEqNdMu1BBI?t=1077

xD

https://youtu.be/AURVxvIZrmU?t=96

https://youtu.be/fw698TBdnmg?t=419

https://youtu.be/fw698TBdnmg?t=106

https://youtu.be/fw698TBdnmg?t=738

I can recognize jpop & kpop video.. in jpop they use more blue material for clothes

I mean these blue skirts are really popular

and these kind of colors and style

https://youtu.be/fw698TBdnmg?t=747

in kpop they wear totally different colors. there is a lot of american style in korean fashion

https://youtu.be/fw698TBdnmg?t=762

japanese language is like.. more interesting because they don’t speak english like koreans.. they just speak only japanese so it’s more interesting I mean.. I mean.. it’s.. more native.. more kinda independent

so I like japanese language a lot.. 

I mean.. kpop is.. kinda.. so popular that it’s kinda becoming.. like.. I mean.. it has american influence.. so. I mean.. to me like.. japanese seems very interseting because.. it’s not influenced as much by america as korea

korea has american influence

in “pop culture”.. 

and japan is unchanged by american influence

so japan is really interesting 

https://youtu.be/fw698TBdnmg?t=777

https://youtu.be/fw698TBdnmg?t=761

these bands like.. scandal. this new nmb48 are so interesting 

what other japanese bands.. a lot of anime bands and singers.. like. tomoko kawase.. she’s really good, band maid is also really good. scandal, eir aoi, yui itsuki

I like their songs a lot

https://youtu.be/h52EITY0YoU

they make different songs than like.. everyone else

https://youtu.be/h52EITY0YoU?t=78

looks like this girl from scandal

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scandal_(Japanese_band)

haruna ono

https://youtu.be/h52EITY0YoU?t=81

and she looks like.. also some girl 

https://youtu.be/h52EITY0YoU?t=133

https://youtu.be/h52EITY0YoU?t=190

she looks like one girl from philippines 

japanese songs are more soothing 

https://youtu.be/h52EITY0YoU?t=136

like tomyam

japanese songs are so good.. like.. they’re not fake they’re kinda authentic and they’re kinda honest authentic.. 

https://youtu.be/fw698TBdnmg?t=779

I mean. there’s like.. not as much competition.. everyone’s just being very nice and kind to each other. 

less competition less pressure

they’re not trying to be fake 

they are more authentic 

very authentic nice people

https://youtu.be/LrmatvP5czo?t=398

https://youtu.be/LrmatvP5czo?t=406

https://youtu.be/kIQ_I448NHQ

https://images.app.goo.gl/MpeSrJR6W8FZ1x92A

https://youtu.be/J8hK3NKztdw?t=540

https://youtu.be/J8hK3NKztdw?t=545

xD

https://youtu.be/vU0Y2ZNiBss?t=5322

I’m gonna write a song called “as long as I have you” it’s gonna be about drinking cocoa

https://youtu.be/Z3LQX9V90Vo

I need some.. rubber to wrap hard drive

https://youtu.be/-0MCP9kkDZ8?t=245

damn I need more time

https://youtu.be/PZYSiWHW8V0

damn I need to do something about this hard drive noise

like.. I don’t know

like.. wrap it with something.. so reduce noise.. but I’m worried about overheating..  damn.. these hard drives actually get hot.. they use.. like.. 10 watts 

old light bulb was using like.. from 30 to like.. 60-90 watts. but they were really hot.. 

electric stove. is like.. 1000 watts.. 

at max level

japanese people are like.. they’re not pretending.. I mean.. they’re authentic

https://youtu.be/17jixTfd81Y?t=22

https://youtu.be/KlqOkSMMKdY?t=24

https://youtu.be/17jixTfd81Y?t=19

што с ними слутилось

https://youtu.be/dia-7fEfu0Y?t=52

so imane. is a name that I never heard before.. 

may sound arabic to me it may sound arabic.. or.. 

https://www.thenamemeaning.com/imane/#:~:text=The%20meaning%20of%20the%20name,Origins%3A%20Swahili

I wanted to say morocco and morocco is next to algeria. she looks like she would be wearing black cloth on her mouth etc. wow it’s actually next to morocco

https://goo.gl/maps/tSEzc5xgeqoEueJe6

https://images.app.goo.gl/Jwzfj5uxLcrCc2YW8

who wears these

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burqa

it’s called burqa

“ is an enveloping outer garment which covers the body and the face that is worn by women in some Islamic traditions. The Arab version of the burqa is called the boshiya, and is usually black in color. “

I though islamic and arabic is same people

https://youtu.be/z1EMevsyzZM?t=886

jesus christ.. if I think about this situation when I couldn’t start engine.. it’s been a long time since I did that so I just.. like.. didn’t know damn I’m so stupid

https://youtu.be/7ZkH3w8ltGY?t=15

https://youtu.be/5fNRMUaksZ8?t=86

https://youtu.be/AYBIEvkNF2c

https://youtu.be/Dz3oAH6QG3M?t=59

https://youtu.be/hcbGD7aQR6Q?t=1

like this girl from jordan. and.. this girl from america 

yes. and they met.. 

and she also looks like.. this french girl who’s acting in movies

and marina and the diamonds

does that mean that marina and the diamonds.. comes from bangladesh or somewhere around bangladesh. I don’t know how she looks in long hair.. she has short hair.. they all have short hair.. except rumena and girl from jordan

https://twitter.com/mirrorrmaru/status/1008826044084826112

what character is that?

https://twitter.com/mirrorrmaru/status/1008826719808163842

oh. this is the thing to secure the ends on edges so they don’t get unlaced

https://twitter.com/mirrorrmaru/status/953437141073367041

yes. that’s what I though.. but then she did crystal maiden I guess it was after ti8

https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DH43y3zXsAABmSB?format=jpg&name=large

my answer to this would be.. 

https://youtu.be/17jixTfd81Y?t=19

https://twitter.com/mirrorrmaru/status/863497007318675456/photo/2

wow they look same

jesus christ these people playing on a console.. I don’t give a f*ck about your press one button gameplay

what now lol. xD