#all of these are completely right and correct

[hairspray-heart]

This is why the opposite of addiction is not, in fact, sobriety.

It's community.

It's only drinking with friends instead of alone. It's giving yourself grace and thoughtful boundaries on what it looks like for you to stay out of addiction—which can mean "drinking for a couple of days instead of months" or "drinking beer instead of liquor" or a hard limit of how many drinks. Recovery means having an understanding of your limits and respecting those limits. For some people, that's complete sobriety, but for some, it's learning moderation.

Days sober is nothing to days recovered, and I lapsed on my sobriety more than once before I really recovered, because I felt I'd failed whenever the clock reset. But I wasn't any further back in my recovery.. it's just not linear. I had to learn to trust myself and not to live in fear of a single lapse "ruining" recovery for me.

It's hard! Building honest trust with yourself after you've lived through addiction is incredibly hard. You have to get really comfortable with being uncomfortable. You have to prove to yourself that you can and WILL do the right thing. A lapse is days and not months. You see the nosedive earlier and it takes less effort to correct it. That's healing your relationship with yourself after addiction.

And that's nothing bad about those who decide that their sobriety is an important element of their recovery. That's true for some people! It's just not true for all people.

every time I mention how many days sober I am I appreciate people congratulating me and telling me to keep up the good work. it is nice. but I also wish that milestones in addiction recovery weren’t still so pinned to length of sobriety/abstinence

yeah yeah I’m 50 days sober who cares. how about the fact that, when I do drink, it tends to be nipped in the bud after two days nowadays instead of weeks or months? how about the fact that drinking has been condensed to a six pack because I’m at the end of my tether, instead of browning out every night? how about my friend who has decided to stop drinking alone, and is actually sticking to that? recovery doesn’t always look like sobriety and I wish it was more normal to talk about that. yknow. when addiction is normal to talk about at all

[lone-esper]

Good Girl, Good Job

[Commissioned]

Shin Yuna (ITZY) × Male Reader

Anal Fuck, Anal Insertion, Anal Creampie

4,500 Word

You step out of the shower, steam still clinging to your skin, and towel off quickly. The house is quiet, your parents and older sister have long gone for their jobs at the company. You throw on a loose shirt and some sweatpants, not bothering with anything else, and head downstairs. Your stomach’s growling, and you’re thinking about what’s in the fridge as you hit the kitchen.

Yuna is there, standing at the sink, scrubbing dishes with her back to you. She’s 21, the maid’s daughter, filling in for her mom who is out sick. They need the money badly—her dad is bedridden, and her university bills are piling up.

You know this, and yeah, you’re not above using it. She’s not fully yours yet, not completely broken in, but you’re working on it. She has this innocence you can’t wait to unravel, and you’re already getting a boner thinking about it.

You creep up behind her, real quiet, and slide your arms around her waist, pressing your chest against her back. She stiffens, a little gasp escaping her lips as you lean in and kiss the soft spot inside her ear. She whimpers a shaky sound that makes your grip tighten. “Yuna,” you murmur low, “I told you, no clothes when it’s just us.”

She trembles in your arms, her hands pausing on a plate. “I-I’m sorry, Sir,” she stammers, her voice barely above a whisper. You smirk, sliding a hand down to squeeze her inner thigh, hard enough to make her flinch. “What did I say about that formal shit?” your tone is sharp.

Her breath hitches, and she corrects herself quickly. “S-Sorry, Oppa,” she whispers, her voice softer now, more pliant. That’s better. You reward her by pressing your lips to her neck, kissing her hard, your tongue flicking out to taste her skin. She squirms, but she doesn’t pull away, her pulse racing under your mouth.

You keep kissing her neck, aggressive now, sucking and licking until she’s whimpering again. “Are you doing what I told you to do?” you ask, your hands roaming her body, feeling the thin fabric of her clothes.

She hesitates, then shakes her head slightly. “I’m sorry, Oppa,” her voice trembling. “I tried, I really did, but… I can’t fit it in my ass. I’m scared.”

You pull back just enough to look at her, your hands still gripping her hips. Fuck, her ass is perfect—wide, round, begging to be stuffed. You let your eyes linger, drinking her in. “Look at this,” you say as you squeeze her hips, pulling her back against you. “This ass can’t be that tight, can it?”

You give her a playful smack, just hard enough to make her gasp, and grin. She’s not ready yet, but you’ve got all morning to change that.

You step back, letting your hands linger on Yuna’s hips for a moment before pulling them away. Her body is still trembling, and you can feel the tension in her, that mix of fear and something else you’re determined to coax out.

“Take it off,” you say, voice firm but casual, like it’s no big deal. “Shirt and jeans. Now.”

Yuna freezes, her hands gripping the edge of the sink. She turns her head slightly, her eyes wide, but she doesn’t move right away. “O-Oppa,” she starts, her voice shaky, “I… I don’t—” You cut her off with a sharp look, leaning in close so she can feel your breath on her neck. “I said now, Yuna. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

She swallows hard, her fingers fumbling as she reaches for the hem of her shirt. Slowly, she pulls it over her head, revealing a plain white bra clinging to her slim curves. Her cheeks flush red as she tosses the shirt aside, her eyes darting to the floor.

“Keep going,” you say, nodding at her jeans. She hesitates again, but then her hands move to the button, popping it open with a soft click. The jeans slide down her slender thighs, pooling at her ankles, leaving her in just her bra and panties.

She steps out of them, kicking them aside, and stands there, vulnerable, her arms twitching like she wants to cover herself but knows better.

You take a moment to look at her, your eyes raking over her body—soft curves, smooth skin, that perfect ass barely covered by her panties. Your cock already strains against your sweatpants, rock-hard and aching.

You don’t bother hiding it. Instead, you tug the waistband down, letting your dick spring free, thick and heavy in the air. Yuna’s eyes flick to it, widening for a second before she looks away, her face burning.

“Play with it,” you tell her. She knows what you mean—no need to spell it out. She drops to her knees slowly, her hands trembling as she reaches for it. Her fingers wrap around your cock, tentative at first, stroking you lightly.

It’s not enough and you grab her wrist, guiding her hand to grip you tighter. “Like you mean it, Yuna,” you say, smirking.

She nods, her lips parting as she leans forward, her breath is blowing against the swollen cockhead before her mouth closes around the tip, soft and warm. It’s sloppy, just how you like it. Her tongue swirls around, hesitant but trying, spit already dripping down as she takes you deeper.

She’s slow, too slow, but the way her lips stretch, the way her cheeks hollow out, makes your pulse race. You groan, tangling a hand in her hair, not pushing her yet, just holding her there.

“Good girl,” you praise, watching her work. She’s trying so hard, her tongue flicking, her hands stroking what she can’t fit in her mouth. Spit dribbles down her chin, and she makes these soft, needy sounds that drive you wild. You let her go for a bit, savoring the wet heat of her mouth, the way she gags a little when she takes too deep.

You pull her hair gently, tilting her head back so she’s looking up at you, your cock still in her mouth. Her eyes are watery, but there’s something else there too—something that says she’s not just doing this because she has to.

“Tell me. What do you want more, Yuna? The money… or my cock?” you question.

She freezes, her lips still wrapped around you, her cheeks flushed. She pulls back just enough to speak, a string of spit connecting her mouth to your dick. “O-Oppa,” she stammers, her voice hoarse, “I… I need the money.” Her eyes flick down like she’s ashamed to admit it, but then she adds, softer, “B-But… I like this too.”

You grin, tightening your grip on her hair. “Yeah? You like sucking my cock?” She nods, barely, her face burning even redder. “Say it,” you push, wanting to hear it from her lips. “Tell me you love it.”

“I-I love it, Oppa,” she whispers, her voice trembling but honest. “I love… sucking your cock.” Her words hit you like a freight train, and you have to fight the urge to shove her head back down and fuck her face right then. Instead, you loosen your grip, letting her go back to work.

She dives back in, more eager now, her mouth moving faster, sloppier. Her tongue drags along the underside, and she’s moaning softly, the vibrations sending sparks up your spine. She’s still slow, but it’s messy, spit everywhere, her lips slick and swollen, her hands pumping you in rhythm with her mouth. The pressure builds, your balls tightening as she gags again, her throat constricting.

“Fuck, Yuna,” you groan, your hips twitching forward involuntarily. She chokes a little but doesn’t stop, her eyes up to meet yours, full of this desperate need to please. You can tell she’s torn, scared, maybe, but also into it, her body leaning into you, her thighs pressing together like she’s feeling it too.

You let her keep going, watching her struggle to take your cock deeper, her lips stretching wide, her tongue working hard to keep up. The kitchen is quiet except for the wet sounds of her mouth and the occasional whimper she lets out. You’re close, so close, but you hold back, wanting to drag this out, wanting to see how far she’ll go for you.

“Money or my cock,” you say again, your voice rougher now, almost a growl. “Pick one, Yuna. Be honest.” You pull her off you, just enough so she can answer, your dick glistening with her spit. She’s panting, her lips red and puffy, her eyes glassy as she looks up at you.

“I… I don’t know, Oppa,” she admits, her voice small. “I need the money… but I also want to pleasure you.” Her words are shaky like she’s scared to say it, but the way her hands keep stroking you, the way her body leans closer, tells you everything you need to know.

You smirk, brushing a thumb over her lips. “That’s what I thought,” you say, guiding her mouth back to your cock. She opens up eagerly, taking you in again, her tongue swirling, her hands pumping, twisting faster now.

You’re not gonna last much longer, not with her like this, so fucking desperate to please you. But for now, you let her keep going, let her lose herself in it, knowing you’ve got her right where you want her.

You pull Yuna’s head back by her hair, just enough to give her a moment to catch her breath. Her lips are slick, spit dripping down her chin, and her eyes are already glassy, locked on yours. “Open your mouth wide,” you tell her, commanding. “Wider, Yuna.”

She hesitates for a split second, then parts her lips as far as they’ll go, her tongue flat on her lower lip. You don’t waste time. Gripping her hair, you shove your cock into her mouth, pushing deep until you hit the back of her throat. She gags instantly, a choked sound vibrating. You stay there, buried in her throat, feeling it constrict.

Her eyes shoot up to meet yours, teary, a mix of panic and submission swimming in them. Drool spills from the corners of her mouth, trickling down her chin and onto her chest. She grabs your legs as she tries to steady herself. Her flat stomach sucking in, ribs visible, the effort to breathe without choking.

“Look at me. Don’t look away.”

She tries to nod, but it’s impossible with your thick cock lodged so deep. Her eyes stay on you, watering more as she gags again, her throat spasming. The wet, gurgling sounds are obscene, filling the quiet kitchen. She is fighting to keep it together, her chest heaving, her nails biting into your skin. She’s struggling, but she’s not pulling away, she’s taking it for you.

You hShe’ser there a little longer, savoring the way her throat squeezes, the way her tears make her eyes shine. Then you pull back just enough to let her gasp before thrusting forward again, harder this time. The squelching sound of your cock fucking her throat is loud, wet, and filthy.

she’s choking, her body jerking with each thrust. You do it again, then again, short, sharp pumps that make her gag harder, more drool spilling out, coating her lips and chin.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty like this,” you groan, your hips twitching as the pressure builds. Her hands grip your thighs, her stomach still sucked in, her whole body tense as she fights to keep up. You thrust one more time, deep and relentless, and that’s it. You’re done. Your cock pulses, and you cum hard, spilling straight into her throat.

She chokes, her eyes squeezing shut for a moment before snapping back to yours, tears streaming down her cheeks now. You keep her there, letting her feel every pulse, every spurt, as you empty your sack into her mouth.

Her throat bulges, trying to swallow, but some of it leaks out, mixing with the drool dripping down her chin. You pull out slowly, your cock slick and sticky, and she gasps, coughing, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath.

You look down at her, still on her knees, her face a mess of spit, tears, and cum. Her lips are swollen, her eyes red but still locked on you, like she’s waiting for your next move. You brush a thumb over her cheek, smearing the mess across her skin, and smirk.

“Good girl, Yuna. You’re getting there.”

You watch Yuna on her knees, panting hard, her chest heaving as she sucks in air like she’s been underwater too long. Her face is a wreck; lips swollen, chin sticky with spit and cum, tears stain streaking her cheeks. You rub her head gently, fingers threading through her messy hair.

“Look at you. It’s barely morning, and you’re already a fucking mess for my cock,” you tease.

She’s still catching her breath, but her eyes aren't leaving yours, that spark of submission you’ve been carving into her over the weeks. Her hand finds your semi-erect cock, fingers wrapping around it, and she looks up with that eager, desperate edge in her voice. “O-Oppa, sh-should I keep going? Please?”

You smile, shaking your head. “Not yet,” your tone is smooth but firm. “Time to help you stretch.”

You grab her chin, pulling her up to her feet, her body wobbling as she stands. You press yourself against her, your cock brushing against her flat tummy, still wet from her mouth. Your hands move to her bra, fingers deftly unhooking it, letting it fall to the floor. Her small, perky boobs are bare now, nipples already hard.

You don’t rush it. Dragging out the moment, you cup her tits, squeezing them, feeling her soft skin yield under your grip. “Nngh…” Yuna whimpers, a soft, high-pitched sound that makes your dick twitch.

You pinch her nipples, rolling them between your fingers, and she gasps, “A-Ah!” Her body jerks slightly. You pull one nipple taut, stretching it just enough to make her squirm. “O-Oppa… ahh!” she moans, her voice breaking into a pained whine.

“Like that, huh?” you say, smirking as you tug the other nipple, harder this time. She cries, “Mmmh! Y-Yes, Oppa!”

Her hands hover near your thighs, like she’s not sure whether to grab you or just take it. You keep playing with her tits, alternating between rough squeezes and sharp pinches, watching her face contort with every little sound spilling from her.

“Need my help, Yuna?” you ask with mock concern, like her answer’s gonna change what’s coming.

She’s so pliant, molded by these weeks of you pushing her limits, breaking her down. Her eyes are glassy, her lips trembling as she nods. “Y-Yes, Oppa,” she whines, her voice thick with that needy tone you’ve worked into her. “P-Please… I need Oppa’s help.”

You chuckle, leaning in close, your cock still pressed against her stomach, smearing a faint trail of wetness across her skin. “Thought so,” you boast, giving her nipples one last hard pinch that pulls a strangled “Aaah!” from her throat. She’s trembling now, her whole body buzzing with that submission and wanting you’ve come to love.

You grab Yuna’s arm and spin her around, her body stumbling slightly as you drag her toward the kitchen counter. With a firm push, you bend her over, her chest squishy against the cold surface, her ass sticking out. She gasps, a shaky “O-Oppa!” slipping from her lips as her hands grip the edge of the counter.

You don’t hold back. Your hand comes down hard on her ass, a sharp smack that makes her yelp, “A-Ahh!” Her skin blooms pink under your palm, and you spank her again, harder, drawing another high-pitched yelp from her throat.

Her legs tremble as she stays in place, ass up, submissive like you’ve trained her. You hook your fingers into her panties and rip them down, the fabric tearing with a satisfying sound, leaving her bare. Her pussy glistens, wet but not quite enough for what you’re about to do.

You grab your cock and slide it along her soft slit, back and forth, teasing her folds. She whimpers, “Mmmh… Oppa…” her hips twitching as you coat yourself in her juices. Her pussy is warm, wet, but you want her dripping. You keep sliding, the head of your cock nudging her clit, making her moan softly, “Ahh… p-please…”

Gripping her ass with one hand, you spread her cheeks, admiring the way her tight little pussy clenches around nothing. With your other hand, you line yourself up and push into her, slow, your cock stretching her velvety walls.

She cries out, “O-Oppa! Ohh, God…!” her voice breaking as you plow through her tight heat, inch by inch. Her pussy grips you like silk, warm and soft, but you’re rougher now, forcing your way in, feeling her stretch to take you.

You penetrate her deep, each thrust deliberate, stretching her pussy to fit your thick cock. She’s whimpering nonstop now as her body rocks against the counter. “I-I can’t… get used to it, Oppa,” she gasps, her voice vibrating. “Y-You’re too big…”

Her legs wobble, and she rises onto her toes, trying to ease the pressure. You keep pounding, her lower belly bulges slightly every time you bottom out.

“Fuck, this is such a good pussy,” you growl, gripping her hips tighter, slamming into her harder. “Who’s this pussy for, Yuna?” You pause just long enough for her to catch her breath, her moans quieting for a second. She turns her head slightly, eyes glassy, and whispers, “I-It’s for you, Oppa… this pussy’s made for your cock only.”

You grin, tugging her back onto your thrusts, her ass slapping against you with every move. “That’s right. My obedient girl. Always will be.” Fucking her feels so damn good, her tight walls milking you, her little cries driving you wild.

Your climax builds fast, the pressure in your balls tightening, but this isn’t the goal.

You pull out abruptly, your cock twitching as it slips free, wet with her juices. Yuna groans, low and throaty, and then it hits. Her pussy spasm hard, and she squirts, a hot gush washing your cock and dripping onto the floor.

“Oh, no— O-Oppa… ahhh!” she moans, her body shaking, legs barely holding her up as she rides out the orgasm. You watch, satisfying, your cock throbbing under her pussy.

You wait for Yuna to steady herself, her legs still shaky from squirting, her body slumped against the counter. “Time to help you out, Yuna.” You grab a cucumber from the counter and a bottle of olive oil from the pantry, setting them down beside her. Her eyes widen when she sees the cucumber, a nervous whimper escaping her lips.

You pour the olive oil generously over her ass, letting it drip down her cheeks, oiling up her hips and thighs. Your hands follow, rubbing the oil into her skin, kneading her ass as she squirms. “Relax,” you tell her. You slide your pointer finger along her crack, probing her tight asshole gently. She tenses, letting out a soft groan as you circle her rim, teasing it open.

Yuna glances back, her eyes darting with worry. “Oppa, th-the cucumber… it’s too big for my ass,” she whines. You smirk, delivering a sharp smack to her oiled-up cheek, making her yelp, “A-Ahh!”

“That’s why you gotta train it harder,” you say, gripping her hip to keep her still. “You’ll get there.”

You press your finger against her asshole, pushing in slowly. She squeaks, “Ack!” her body goes rigid as your digit breaches her tight ring. Her ass is warm, slightly wet, and her inner walls give way.

You slide deeper, probing her open, then slowly withdraw, watching her hole wink shut, still so small and stubborn.

There’s no other way. You grab the cucumber, pour on it with more oil, and press the tip against her asshole. Yuna panics. “O-Oppa, no! It’s too much, I-I might shit myself!” she cries, her body jerking forward.

You ignore her, holding her hip tight, and force the cucumber’s tip past her sphincter. The oil helps, but her ass resists, stretching slowly as she gasps, “A-Ahhh! Oppa, please!”

The tip pops in, her ring muscle clamping down hard, and she lets out a strangled groan, her legs trembling on her toes. You keep it steady, letting her adjust, her breaths coming in short, panicked bursts. Her ass is so tight, the cucumber barely moving, but you’re patient—for now.

“Breathe, Yuna,” you say, smacking her ass lightly again, drawing another moan from her. She’s a mess, whining and tense, but you know she’ll take it, just like she’s learned to take everything else.

You grip the cucumber and start pushing it into Yuna’s ass, slow and steady. Inch by inch, it stretches her tight hole, her bowels resisting the intrusion.

She’s gripping the opposite edge of the kitchen counter, her knuckles white, holding on for dear life. “Ohh, God! O-Oppa, n-not too deep, haa!” her voice high and strained, her body trembling as you force the cucumber deeper.

Her ass is so tight, clenching hard around the thick vegetable, it's almost bending under the pressure. Yuna’s muscles stiffen, her joints locked, her lower half quivering. The foreign sensation makes her squirm, her thighs shaking as she tries to control it.

“I-It hurts, Oppa!” she cries, her voice breaking. “P-Please, pull it out!” Her words are desperate, but you glance down at her pussy; dripping, wet trails running down her thighs. “Lying again, are we? Your pussy is fucking soaked.”

You keep going, pushing another inch in, her ass stretching wider. She gasps, “A-Ahh, it's in my asd!” her body jerks forward, but she can’t escape your grip.

Her moans mix with pained whimpers, “Mmmh… no, no! Ohh!” and then it hits—her eyes roll back, her mouth falling open as her body convulses. She’s cumming again, her pussy gushing, splattering onto the floor. Her head tilts back, a low, blissful groan escaping as she rides the wave, completely lost.

You can’t push the cucumber any deeper. Her ass is at its limit, her hole stretched to a gape. You pull it out slowly, fluids spurting from her ass, a wet, filthy sound right after. Her hole stays open, winking at you. You drop the cucumber to the floor, grabbing your cock and line it up with her inviting anal hole.

You push the swollen head in, popping past her stretched sphincter with a slick squelch. Yuna squeals, “Oh, shit— Ahh!” her body lurching forward, hands scrambling on the counter.

Her ass is still tight, even after the cucumber, clamping down. You groan, feeling her warmth envelop you, her walls twitching as you hold her hips steady. She’s panting, her breaths ragged, her body still quivering from her orgasm.

“Too big… ahh!” she moans, but you can feel her pushing back, just a little, her body betraying her words. You stay there for a moment, letting her adjust, your cock pulsing inside her.

You grip Yuna’s hips, your cock nestled in her impossibly tight ass, the heat and grip of her anal walls. You move slow, real slow, savoring every second as her hole clenches, squeezing so hard it feels like she’s trying to choke your dick.

“Your ass loves my cock, Yuna,” you laugh. Each thrust pushes just a bit deeper, but you can’t even bottom out—her ass is too tight, only taking half your length, but it’s more than enough.

Her body quivers under you, a constant tremor running through her as she fists the counter, her knuckles white. “O-Oh, God, shit… No!” she whimpers, breaking into soft “ahh!”s every time you slide in.

The pleasure overwhelms her, her legs trembling, barely holding her up as she stands on her toes, her body reacting, every slow thrust sending chills through her, her ass twitching around you, slick with oil and sticky with her own juices.

You spread her ass cheeks with both hands, pulling them apart to get a better look. Her entrance is stretched tight around your cock, the skin taut, choking you so hard it’s almost painful.

It’s messy yet beautiful, the way her ass hugs your cock, refusing to let go. You keep the pace slow, dragging it out, feeling her walls flutter with every inch you give her.

“Here’s a gift,” you growl, feeling the pressure build in your balls. You thrust one more time, just a little deeper, and let go, shooting your cum deep inside her rectum.

The hot spurts fill her, and Yuna’s body goes rigid, like a statue. Her breathing stops completely, her mouth opens in a silent scream as she shudders hard, her whole body shaking. A trickle of pee escapes her pussy, pooling on the floor.

She’s a mess, her ass still clamped around your cock, milking every last drop. “A-Ahh… please… so good, ahhh,” she finally gasps as her body starts to relax, still quivering from the intensity.

You stay inside her for a moment, letting her feel you, your cock twitching in her tight, cum-filled ass. She’s panting now, trying to catch her breath, her body spent.

You pull out slowly, your cock slipping free from Yuna’s tight ass with a wet, filthy pop. The sound of her gaping hole bubbling as your cum leaks out is satisfying, a thick, creamy mess.

She moans low, a shaky “Mmmh…” as her body twitches, overwhelmed by the feeling. Her legs give out, and she slumps against the counter, panting hard, her sweaty body is trembling like she’s been through a marathon.

You crouch beside her, brushing the sweaty, messy strands of hair from her face. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes half-lidded, still dazed from it all. You caress her cheek gently, your thumb tracing her jaw. “See? You can take it, after all. You’ll do better next time, right?”

Yuna nods weakly, her breath ragged. “Y-Yes, Oppa,” she whispers, her voice hoarse. “I-I’ll do better…” As she speaks, her ass clenches and spurts out more of your cum, a wet squelch that makes her gasp, “Nngh!” Her face burns red, a humiliated moan slipping out as she mutters, “O-Oppa… it’s like I’m… shitting myself…”

You chuckle, patting her head, your smug smile widening. “You’re fine,” you say, ruffling her hair like she’s a pet. “I’ll check on you again after you clean up and finish the chores.” She nods again, still catching her breath, her body shivering from the aftershocks.

You stand up, pulling your sweatpants back up, your cock is semi-erect but satisfied for now. You walk to the fridge, grab a bottle of milk, and take a swig, the cold liquid hitting your throat.

Without another word, you head upstairs, leaving Yuna slumped there, her ass still leaking, her body an obedient mess. You know she’ll be ready for more later—she always is.

[yourauthorjen]

| THE BEST DAY | — joaquin torres

MASTERLIST

| synopsis: | a dating couple, a bouquet toss, and a wedding. what could go wrong?

| includes: | joaquintorres x fem!reader, fluff, cliche, no use of, no use of y/n, teasing, wedding stuff, reader wears blue dress, really nosy relatives, manspreading

| word count: | 2.1k

| a/n: | inspired by the song the best day by taylor swift and like half a dozen bouquet toss reels on instagram. also i have limited knowledge on southern american wedding culture/traditions so if there is anything wrong please correct me!

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

IF YOU HAD known that an after party for a wedding could contain enough energy to fuel two Cirque Du Soleils, you would’ve worn sneakers instead of heels, jeans instead of a dress, and harnessed enough mental capacity to be tackled by Joaquin’s entire extended family before you even reached the reception tent.

You adjusted the soft blue satin of your dress, smoothing the fabric where it hugged your hips, feeling suddenly aware of the way it caught in the light. It was simple but stunning—a cowl neckline that shimmered with every step, and something you had spent eons debating on whether or not you should’ve gotten it.

But it was worth it, because you had barely stepped out of the car, before several aunties rushed over, each one of them in brightly patterened skirts and tops, all surrounding you and Joaquin in a flurry of hands and flower scented perfume wafted.

One by one, they pulled you into a hug, spewing question after question; and by the time one of Joaquin’s uncles managed to wrangle them away you had answered “are you going to get married?” one too many times.

Joaquin on the other hand, was no help whatsoever. He just stood there, all smug in his navy suit and open-collared shirt, cheeks flushed with pride. He looked devastating in the sun, and he knew it, too—but instead he just watched you get circled by half a dozen women who shared his nose, his smile, and his never ending enthusiasm for you.

But it wasn’t just the aunties that took an interest in you. Several of Joaquin’s little nephews and nieces had begun trailing after the two of you, half of them already covered in grass stains and mud, giggling and whispering behind your back with large, dutiful eyes.

One of the braver girls—probably no older than six, swallowed by a white dress full of pristine lace and an aggressively large bow—marched right up to you as you were nursing your champagne under the reception tent. Her shiny black shoes were scuffed to hell, and curls frizzed from the humidity as she stared at you with curious eyes.

“Are you his girlfriend?” she asked, pointing directly at Joaquin, who stood a few feet away, talking to his uncle.

You blinked in surprise, completely caught off guard. “Uh… yeah, I am.”

She narrowed her eyes at you. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you repeated, smiling a little. “Is that okay?”

She crossed her arms, cocking her hip to the side in pure judgment. “But you’re way too pretty to be his girlfriend.”

Your jaw dropped with half a laugh caught in your throat. “Oh my god.”

“And he’s like… medium-handsome,” she continued with a shrug. “But you’re, like, really, really pretty.”

Joaquin turned just in time to catch that. “Did you just call me ‘medium-handsome’, Alejandra Luciana Torres?”

The girl ignored him, still studying you like you were an exhibit. “Are you also smart?”

“I—uh—”

“She is,” Joaquin interrupted, marching behind you before resting a hand on your waist. “Very smart and way out of my league. So let’s all be cool about it, okay?”

The little girl tilted her head up at him with still narrowed eyes. “Then how did you get her?”

“Great question,” you said under your breath, sipping your drink to hide your grin.

“I have charm,” Joaquin told her, pressing a hand to his chest. “And skills.”

“No,” she said flatly. “You have bad haircut.”

A loud “OHH!” rang out from the other kids, and one little boy collapsed onto the grass dramatically, while Joaquin’s mouth dropped open like he’d just been slapped in the face.

“What? My hair is fine,” he cried patting his loose curls resting across his forehead. “Your just mad that I look this good without trying.”

“Okay, Mr. Medium-Handsome,” you teased, “Let’s go before you end up throwing a tantrum.”

He sputtered, “I— you— you’re lucky I love you.”

You snorted and cupped his cheek, giving him a quick sloppy kiss to shut him up. The kids however, weren't as impressed. Behind you, a chorus of 'EWWW!''s rang out as you pulled away, and Alejandra— Joaquin's little cousin recoiled with enough force to make a rubber hand snapped. A few other kids screamed, one boy slapped a hand over his eyes while another started shrieking: "She's got Uncle J's cooties!"

Joaquin on the other hand looked completely smug. "See told I could get her."

The kids scurried away, as you rolled your eyes and patted his chest. "God, you're such a dork."

The sun had just begun to dip when the music started pounding over the speakers, and the soft afterglow casted a gold shine over the venue. You were halfway to the drink table, reaching out for a glass of wine when Joaquin slowed beside you, eyeing the growing crowd with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

You raised your eyebrow at him with a suspicious look. "Joaquin, absolutely not."

He tilted his head, feigning innocence. "What?"

"You're trying to convince me to dance, aren't you?"

"No..." he trailed off. "Well, okay, maybe I do. But y'know if you want to break a poor man’s heart—”

The words hadn't even left his mouth before you were already dragging him towards the sea of bodies, swishing their hips as Reggaeton blasted from the speakers, and cheers went up from the crowd. Music pulsed through your body, and Joaquin was already smiling. His moves were suave and easy, twirling you around like he’d done it a hundred times before. There was no resisting the way he moved with it, smooth and confident, one hand finding your waist, the other catching your wrist mid-spin.

Laughter bubbled out of you before you could stop it. It was impossible not to smile with him looking at you like that, and as the scent of citrus and champagne drifting in the air. Joaquin pulled you closer, cheek brushing yours for a beat, his voice low against your ear.

"Te estás divirtiendo?”

You blinked at him, caught between the rhythm of the song and the heat of his breath. “I have no idea what you just said,” you yelled over the music, laughing. “But I love you too!”

His grin was as wide as yours, shaking his head as he leaned in again. “That works.”

It didn’t take long before the layers started coming off. His suit jacket was the first to go slung somewhere over a chair between Suavemente and Chantaje. His tie was loosened, then vanished entirely, stuffed into his pocket after you pulled at it with a teasing smirk. And by the time he spun you into his arms again, the top few buttons of his shirt had popped open, sleeves rolled high up to his biceps, skin glowing under the lights and that ever-present grin stretched across his face like he hadn’t smiled in years.

His forearms flexed, and his face was flushed with a sheen coat of sweat and his hair was messy and fell over his forehead in a sweep. You had barely noticed how long you’d been out there until he leaned down, swaying your hips to the music until his lips brushed against your temple.

“Water?” he asked, voice warm against your skin.

“Please,” you breathed.

The two of you peeled off from the crowd, his hand slipping into yours as you made your way toward the drinks. You grabbed a glass of something cold and fizzy, pressing it to your cheek with a sigh, fanning your red cheeks.

When you glanced over at Joaquin, he was sprawled over his chair, legs wide open and hands tucked neatly behind his head. He looked far too pleased with himself, eyes half-lidded as he watched you with a lazy grin, shirt clinging to his chest from the heat, curls damp at the edges. It was infuriating, and you had to tear your eyes away from the beautiful sight beside you to keep your sanity.

Instead, you focused on the group gathering just several feet away from you, a swirling knot of women in heels and sundresses already jostling for position behind the bride. Laughter spilled from their circle, some crouching low with hands on their knees, others bouncing on the balls of their feet, all caught up in the buzz of anticipation.

“What are they doing over there?” you murmured softly underneath your breath.

Joaquin glanced over his shoulder, then leaned in with a lopsided grin. “Bouquet toss, you should go join them.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on,” he said, nudging you playfully. “Don’t you want to fight a bunch of strangers for symbolic flowers?”

“Hard pass,” you said, trying to ignore the heat rushing to your cheeks, “Besides, I’m not that close to your family, I’d feel weird.”

But he was still watching you with a grin on his face like he knew something you didn’t. You narrowed your eyes at him, ready to fire back at him when a small thud sounded in your lap.

Your conversation halted, as your eyes widened at the soft bundle of roses and baby’s breaths now nestled against your chest. Your breath caught in your throat and your mouth turned into sandpaper, gritty and scratchy as you stared in shock.

It took you two tries before you could find your voice again, and by then the crowd had erupted like thunder. Applauds and wolf whistles sounded and several aunties squealed as they all rushed towards you.

You shot of from your chair and turned to Joaquin, eyes wide with horror, bouquet still clutched in your hands. “I— I didn’t—”

Joaquin looked stunned, before his mouth curled into a delighted, wicked grin. “Holy fuck.”

All eyes seemed to turn on you, digging into your back before then turning to Joaquin.

“Oh my God!” a voice shrieked as footsteps thudded towards you. “Mija! Oh my dear, I’m finally going to have a grandchild!”

Your jaw dropped as Joaquin’s mother stretched her arms out, eyes wide with joy as she swept you into a hug.

“I— no— no,” you tried, “It wasn’t—”

“You caught the bouquet!” his mother squealed, “This is a sign from the universe!” She turned towards her son. “You! I want two grandchildren with her pretty face and your eyes. Fate has already decided.”

“Mamá!” Joaquin nearly choked, eyes wide as he half-laughed, half-pleaded. “No one’s having any babies yet.”

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed, mijo,” she said waving her hands around. “Your father and I made you after a wedding—”

“Nope!” Joaquin clapped his hands over his ears. “We’re done. No. Shut it down.”

You stood frozen, bouquet still in your hands, heart pounding from the sudden storm of attention. Around you, a chorus of aunts and cousins began chiming in.

“I give it six months.”

“Ya gotta put the ring on it soon, J.”

“I’m willing to put 20 dollars that their wedding will be at the end of this year.”

“But she’s too pretty to marry Uncle Joaquin!”

Joaquin’s uncle—thankfully, mercifully—stepped in saving the two of you from anymore unsolicited advice. “Okay, okay,” he said loudly, grinning as he herded everyone back toward the dance floor. “Let’s give them some air.”

He winked at you on the way past. “Congrats, kiddo, you’ve just got 100 more people added to your wedding guest list.”

You exhaled like you’d just escaped a house fire, dropping into the nearest chair, bouquet still clutched like in your lap. “God,” you groaned, rubbing your temples. “I just wanted a drink.”

Joaquin dropped into the seat beside you, his collar crooked, and hair messier than ever. He looked far too pleased with himself for someone whose mother just tried to spiritually marry him off.

“You okay?” he asked, nudging your knee with his.

“I’m alive,” you muttered. “Barely.”

He chuckled, leaning back with a lazy sprawl. “They love you.”

“They terrify me.”

A beat passed as laughter, music, and the buzz of energy still lingered around the tent like fog. You were about to close your eyes when he leaned in, his voice low, warm, a grin in it even before he spoke.

“You know…” he murmured near your ear, “I wouldn’t mind if we had kids someday.”

Your head whipped toward him. “Joaquin.”

“I’m just saying,” he said innocently, holding up his hands. “I wouldn’t mind seeing mini versions of us running around the house like maniacs.”

You swatted his arm—hard—and he winced with a laugh.

“Marry me first,” you said, jabbing a finger into his chest, “before you even think about that.”

Joaquin grinned, rubbing where you hit him. “So that’s not a no?”

You groaned and sank lower in your chair, pulling a napkin over your face. “I need three years and a gallon of wine before we talk about that again, so my answer is maybe.”

He laughed, soft and slow, then leaned over and kissed your cheek anyway—careful, sweet, and just enough to make your stomach flip again.

“Three years,” he whispered. “That’s a deal.”

[randomusingsofalovesickgirl]

EPISODE 04 (PT. 1): LIFELINE

🎶 lifeline by sedona 🎶 bing bong love song by fig 🎶 shaking the can by peach fuzz

a/n: also!! i want to say that this is completely fictional. i do not think anyone in the show was particularly terrible or rude, but i had to amp it up for the story. please remember this is fictional !!

“Oh, so now you’re good!” Whitney exclaimed, motioning to George beside you, who had suddenly become suspiciously fluent in harmonica–a far cry from his struggling attempts minutes earlier. 

The tune was oddly cinematic, like a horror movie soundtrack building suspense before the kill, mocking your fates with every note. You knew someone was going, but you had no clue. Gently, you reached for his hands, slightly nudging the harmonica down. 

“Maybe, not the time,” you murmured. You were enjoying it, although clearly, not everyone was.  

No one noticed his sudden silence though. Not with Mandi spiralling over PK’s potential betrayal. Jason, of course, was fuelling the fire, instigating her further. “He could be manipulating you. One minute you're safe, and the next—poof—you’re gone. He could vote you out just like that.”

The others joined in, analysing PK’s trustworthiness (or, well, lack thereof) and guessing who Uncle P thought was dragging the team down. You, on the other hand, just wanted to know so you could either get out or go to bed. 

Whether you were on that chopping block or not, there’s nothing you can do to defend your spot. You can’t run into Room 19 and convince them to let you stay.

Still tied at the ankles, you and George had given up on the stiff dining stools and settled close on the couch, your head hovering on the sofa just above his shoulder. “Hey,” He whispered, loud enough for only you (and of course, the microphone). “Be careful going forward, okay?” 

You frowned, “Why? What happened?” 

He sighed, “You’re safe today, I hope, but when I was at the gym with PK this morning, he said he and Jason wanted to vote a girl out.” 

You wanted to scoff, of course, they see it as girls versus boys right now. Regardless, you leaned closer, trying to hear better as the noise at the table doubled, with Mandi now declaring that it’ll be her. 

“He was talking about how the girls are in little teams, like you and Milli.” 

Admittedly, they weren’t wrong. There were no strong bonds between the boys yet, while Whitney, Mandi, and Mya were practically inseparable. You and Milli were another pair, while Cinna and Farah floated between. 

“So, how do you know I’m safe?” PK is close to the trio, so the odds were that he wouldn’t touch them. Then again, you have been among the best savers, so it’d be detrimental if they got rid of you. That, and you and Uncle P were relatively close. 

George hesitated, a blush creeping on his cheeks. “He told me he wouldn’t vote you out.”

[Later, while watching the episode back, you’d realise that PK promised George, “I won’t mess with your girl, don’t worry”, and George had just…dabbed him up. Thanked him. No corrections, no clarifications.]

“And, he’s worried that the trio is going to turn on him.” George added, before you could question his hesitation. 

“Do you think they will?” You turned around to face him, not realising how close you two actually were–his breath hitting your face, his eyes glancing down to your lips. 

He shook his head, turning to face the wall in front of you now. “Doesn’t matter. You can’t really trust anyone here, can you?” 

Removing yourself from facing him so directly, you drop your head back to where it was, nodding. You let yourself process the new information. 

There is no doubt that it’ll be a girl tonight. If you could give immunity to anyone, it’d be Milli or Cinna. Although, you knew you were biased–they were smart, loyal, and played the game with a conscience. 

“I’m so tired of all this,” You huffed, dropping your hands into your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. “Maybe I should just get voted out, and spend the rest of the week at home.” 

George paused before deciding to test the waters. Slowly, he took one of your nervous hands into his, and let your intertwined hands rest on his lap. 

“I don’t want you to leave.” 

“Well, I want you to win. For your sister.” Your voice was barely a whisper. 

You decided to stop yourself from confessing that you wanted to be out so you could process your feelings for him, so you can avoid him a little longer. But even worse, you wished that both of you were eliminated, so the two of you can talk without all these cameras. “I just want us to talk…really talk.” 

“We don’t have to be voted out to talk,” He murmured, nudging you with his shoulder. 

You lifted your head, but made sure to keep your distance from his face this time. “You want to talk about it with all these cameras on us?” 

Despite the distance you created, he brought his empty hand to your face, brushing your hair behind your ear. Something he’s done a million times. But this time, it felt…charged. 

“I know a spot without cameras,” He said, “Just say the word.” 

Before you could answer, Whitney’s voice cut through the room. “What are you two whispering about, huh? Plotting something?” 

You pulled away from George and turned to face her. “There’s nothing we can do now. No point stressing.” 

“Oh, sorry for interrupting your little make-out session,” Whitney scoffed. “Some of us are actually trying to win.”

Rolling your eyes, you spoke without thinking–too tired and done to filter your words. “At least I’m trying to save money for someone to win.” 

“What was that?” Whitney shot back. You two have surely butt heads more than anyone else so far. “Just ‘cause Mandi said you’re the most boring one here doesn’t mean you can start acting sassy.”

George scoffed. “Okay, that’s not fair, Whitney. What the hell was that?” 

“It’s fine,” you whispered just to him. “This isn’t worth a fight.” 

You’d met girls like Whitney before. Sweet, but they can be immovable when they are convinced they are in the right. Turning around, you raised your hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired. Just trying to nap.”

Cinna jumped in, trying to help you de-escalate. “Yeah, she’s been trying to nap all day, Whitney.”

That calmed her, luckily. It also gave you cover for the slip-up. 

Luckily, your distraction—or maybe your doom—arrived. PK and Uncle P walked in, looking sheepish and exhausted.

“Why are you smiling so much, man?” Mandi called out, eyeing PK’s suspiciously wide grin.

“I’m smiling ‘cause I’m nervous,” he said, his teeth nearly chattering.

Uncle P clapped his shoulder. “You wanna say it, or should I?”

“Together,” PK said.

You instinctively leaned into George again, feeling comfort despite all the things unsaid. He was always your lifeline, your comfort space. While your safety on the Inside may be up to debate, you knew you were safe with him. 

“We just wanted to make the game a level playing field,” they said, like a rehearsed breakup. “And that’s why the person we chose to eliminate is…”

You braced yourself. 

Whitney, maybe, due to her spending habits and temper. Farah could be an option, as she hasn’t gotten along much with PK or Uncle P until earlier today. 

“Mandi.” 

Your jaw dropped. 

The silence was deafening—until Whitney gasped, “Oh my god.”

“Snakes!” Mandi was on her feet, storming toward PK. “You are a snake! A two-faced, lying—”

You jumped up, joining the rest of the girls who were quick give her a hug once she slowed down. George, unfortunately, got swept into the hug too.

“You okay?” you asked, joining the rest of the girls (and George) around her.

While Mandi and you have had one or two minor disagreements, you actually enjoyed her company. She was honest (for the most part) about her spending, she was funny, and she brought people together. You were going to miss her. 

She sighed. “It’s alright. I know it is. But just... don’t trust anyone, okay?”

As she and most of the girls disappeared to pack, George asked to stay back. And you agreed, wanting to check in on the most tempered person on the Inside. 

George turned to Uncle P. “Hey, you alright?”

Uncle P sighed. “It’s tough, sending someone home. We really were just trying to balance the teams. And yeah… she was a big spender.”

George nodded. “No, I completely understand the thought process.” 

That’s when you noticed George still wearing his ridiculous party hat. You reached up and toyed with the string under his chin.

“Don’t think it’s the right vibe anymore, Clarkey,” you teased.

He laughed, pulling it off fast. “Yeah… this feels wrong now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everyone was sitting around the TV, dreading the inevitable gut-punch moment when the screen told you exactly how much money had been spent. 

“I think…” Uncle P clapped his hands together, scanning the room solemnly. Since Mandi’s elimination, the atmosphere on the Inside has changed. Even though the living room was still decked in birthday decorations, no one was celebrating…sitting in silence, hushed conversations, and a clear upset from what happened an hour earlier. 

Further exasperated as the production crew slowly brought everyone into Room 19 to relive what just happened so everyone can say their own opinions on it. 

“Let’s have a moment of silence for Mandi.” Uncle P suggested finally now that everyone has returned from their confessionals. 

“Nuh-uh,” Whitney cut in, shrugging him off as if she was offended. “We’re not doing that! What are you even suggesting?” 

PK looked like he’d seen a ghost, visibly shrinking into the couch, clearly still haunted by Mandi screaming at him earlier. He’s being smart enough to stay out of saying anything else incriminating. 

Thankfully, the argument hit pause as the number on the screen dropped.

673k. 

“No fucking way,” you muttered. Nearly a 90k drop. 

Whitney, of course, didn’t even blink. “We’re not doing a moment of silence—that’s a piss take,” she declared, brushing off the prize fund like it meant nothing. Maybe because at least 30k of that money was spent on her five-minute decision. “And Mandi? She’s a good vibe. We’re not gonna act like Mandi is a Dylan.”

You froze.

You were so fucking tired of the Dylan jokes.

Apparently, George was too.

“What the fuck does that even mean?” he asked sharply, sitting forward. “That’s mean.”

Your heart kicked up a beat. George was someone who liked to stay out of confrontation, but he wasn’t scared to call someone out when they’re doing something wrong. It’s one thing, among many, you admired about him; his strong moral code. And that is exactly how you knew Whitney had genuinely fucked up, and it wasn’t just you being close to Dylan. 

“We’ve been taking the piss out of Dylan all day, but why? What’s he actually done to any of you?”

Whitney scoffed, “It’s not a mean thing to say. Let’s clear this mean girl narrative the two of you are trying to spin.” 

“We’re not spinning anything,” George snapped, his voice becoming sharper. “But what the fuck is that language?”

She just shrugged, indifferent as ever. “Mandi added to the vibe. Dylan didn’t. It’s not personal.”

“It is personal,” George spoke fast and deliberately. “I know jokes happen, I’m not dumb—I’ve made a few myself. But you could’ve said literally anything else. Instead you chose ‘Mandi’s not a Dylan’? That’s just unnecessary.”

Whitney raised a brow, and smirked. “Oh, I’m sorry—didn’t realise you were going to defend the guy who asked your girlfriend out. Didn’t realise you were into being a cuck.”

You stood to your feet now. 

That was it.

George didn’t deserve this. 

“No. Whitney, no. I know we’ve had our disagreements, but that? That’s not it.” Your voice shook with frustration. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re sweet. And yeah, you’re fiery. And I admire that, but fire doesn’t give you the right to burn people down.”

The room was dead silent now, not quite expecting this full-on outburst from you. 

The only thing stopping you from being face-to-face to her was George remaining seated, keeping the two of you planted in your corner. 

“George has been nothing but kind to you, even when you didn’t deserve it. Dylan? He’s done nothing but support this group. Hell, he even earned us back 10k. You don’t have to like everyone here, but we have to work together and respect each other.”

No one moved. It felt like the whole room was holding its breath.

Whitney didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. The look on her face was enough…something you’d describe as a mix of a bruised ego and something that was akin to guilt. 

Then, from the corner of the couch, Uncle P exhaled loudly and stood up.

“Aight, enough.” he said. “Look. We all got our friends, and we all got people we don’t click with. Not everyone’s gonna mesh—and that’s cool. But especially here? With cameras, competition, money, pressure? It turns people inside out. I’ve seen some of my kindest teammates say and do shit they’d never dream of because of the heat of the game.”

He looked straight at Whitney. “But just remember: there’s a line between banter and disrespect. And once you cross it, no amount of jokes can walk it back. And that doesn’t just make you look bad, it hurts people who don’t deserve it.”

He let that sit.

“You don’t gotta be besties with everyone,” he added. “But treating people like they’re disposable? That’s not fire. That’s just cold.”

The room was dead silent. Then Uncle P gave a quick nod towards the dining table. “Anyway. I’m going to get some more cake. Anyone want to join?” 

“I wasn’t trying to throw him under the bus,” she muttered, eyes trained somewhere between the wall and her nails, as people started to disperse around the room. “It’s not that deep.”

“It is that deep,” You didn’t miss a beat. “You just didn’t think anyone would call you on it.” And especially George. But, you also know him. He’s someone who wouldn’t let shit pass. 

Whitney didn’t respond to that. But she didn’t argue again, either.

Instead, she sank back into the couch, quieter than usual. 

While guilt overcome you about saying the wrong thing or potentially overreacting, the later support from George, Milli, Cinna, Farah, Jason, Uncle P,  and DDG was enough to remind you that you did the right thing. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The note taunted you from the nightstand, scrawled in JJ’s unmistakable handwriting:

“We combined your beds to make sleeping easier for you two while you were tied up…sleep well xoxox. 

P.S. There’s a condom in the top drawer, if you need it.’ 

And yet, as you two laid in the dark–your ankle tied to George’s, his hand barely brushing yours, and the freezing cold chill throughout the room–that stupid note was the least of our problems.

You were hyper aware of everything…the rise and the fall of his chest, the warmth radiating off his skin, and the weight of all the words you hadn’t said. 

The room was quiet now…finally. After the emotional circus of the day, everyone had finally passed out. 

Even Whitney, who had muttered a rushed and vague apology to you and George before lights out. 

(It was as if she was tired herself, and just registered what she said. You didn’t bite back, and instead, you thanked her. You know she was close to Mandi, she was likely reeling from the news. But that still didn’t excuse the disrespect on Dylan.)

You turned slightly, careful not to wake the others, to face George. His curly mullet fell back onto the pillow, messy as if he’s ran his hand through it a dozen times. 

“George?” You whispered, checking if he was awake.

A low hum. He was awake.

“Two people went home today.” It could’ve been him. 

He hummed again. You weren’t sure if he was half-asleep or just waiting for you to say more. 

You rolled back onto your back. The rope tugged gently at your ankle, a quiet reminder that you couldn’t escape this, even if you wanted to. And to be honest, you didn’t. You’re tired of swallowing all these words down. 

“I don’t want you to go home,” you whispered. 

While you were willing to go home, you wanted George to come back with that prize fund. To support his sister. That’s what he came for, and you know he deserves nothing less. Yes, you came to win too, but you’ve won enough of the Sidemen’s challenges this last year.  

He turned toward you, his blue eyes staring into the side of your face. “I don’t want you to go home either. I don’t want to be here without you.”

Something in your chest burst. Testing the waters, you reached out and carefully threaded your fingers through his. He didn’t move away.

“Are we okay?” you asked, trying to stop your voice from cracking–although it failed. 

George didn’t answer right away. Just a shrug, subtle but intentional. “You tell me.”

You sat up slowly, glancing around the room—everyone else was out cold. He followed your lead, but his eyes remained trained on you. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, concerned. “What’s going on?”

You tucked your hair behind your ears, suddenly shy under the weight of everything between you. “Would you be ready for a chat now?”

A pause.

Then, without a word, George nodded.

You both quietly stood, making your way toward the door, the ankle rope tugging gently between you. You whispered a request to a production assistant monitoring the set, asking if you could get some air on the roof, at the spot everyone who vapes goes during the shoot—just for a few minutes.

They nodded, eyes tired, already pulling a walkie to confirm with security. 

For safety as you go up the stairs, they untied your ankles and removed your mic packs.

And just like that, for the first time since the challenge, you and George were free to move.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night air bit at your skin, but it felt easier to breathe up here than there. Away from the cameras, away from the drama, and away from everyone else’s noise. 

Right now, it was just you and him and the silence between you, thick with everything you hadn’t said. 

George sat on the bench, elbows on his knees, watching you like you might run…again. You leaned against a giant plant pot, arms crossed tight over your chest, trying to hold yourself together. 

The silence wasn’t peaceful, but heavy. Unforgiving. And you knew, he wouldn’t be the one to break it. It had to be you. 

You exhaled, “I’ve been pretending it didn’t happen. “Like everything’s fine. Like that night was just…a blip. But I still remember the way you looked at me, and…” 

His jaw twitched, but he didn’t interrupt, even as you trailed off into silence. He was going to let you speak. Grounding himself, his hands curled tighter around the edge of the bench.  

“It’s not fine. I can’t keep pretending. I’ve tried to act like nothing’s changed…but it has, hasn’t it?” You were scared to look him in the eye, to see his answer, so your eyes remained on the ground. “I can’t go back to being your friend and pretending not to hurt every time you look at me like that.” 

Silence.

He didn’t look away.

And it made everything ache worse.

Facing your fears, you looked down at him; his blue eyes that you used to be able to read so well were suddenly unreadable. 

“I’ve had feelings for you for a long time, George, longer than I even admitted to myself.” You confessed, voice cracking. “But by the time I thought I should say something…it was too late. Chris was talking about your Hinge profile and these girls you’d bring home from the pub, and…I thought I missed my chance.” 

He let out a dry laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was trying to hide something deeper. 

You panicked. He didn’t feel the same. Is that why he was laughing? Maybe that night was a mistake for him. He’s laughing because I’m being ridiculous. Within the millisecond, a thousand of your worst fears seemed to come to life in your mind. 

“If I’d known you liked me, I wouldn’t have touched that app. Jesus.” He finally looked up at you, eyes burning. And warmth spread throughout you, the butterflies in your stomach erupted. “I went on them because I thought I didn’t stand a chance with you.”

You took a step closer, voice trembling, and decided to tell-all. “I thought you didn’t want me. And I didn’t want to risk us. You were–hell–you are my safe place. I can’t stand the idea of losing that.”

“But you already pulled away,” he said, standing now, voice raw. “I called. I texted. And you ignored me. Were you really going to leave in the dark for a week?”

You laughed nervously, wanting to shrink into yourself. Out of guilt, out of shame, out of regret. “I thought we both said we were on off-the-grid family trips, remember?” He didn’t look quite impressed by your answer. “Honestly, I wanted to buy myself a week to figure this out…alone. I haven’t had a day without you since we met. And I was scared I didn’t know who I was without you. I needed to remember I could figure it out alone. And mainly, I thought we both wanted space.” 

His voice cracked. “Well, I didn’t want space. I wanted you. I was ready to talk. I needed to talk, and you disappeared.” 

You looked down, ashamed. “I didn’t know how to face you. Because if I said it out loud—if I told you how I felt—and you didn’t feel the same… I couldn’t come back from that. It would’ve broken me.”

You thought of all your movie nights, your friendships with Chris and Arthur and heck, even the Sidemen. This wasn’t a light crush you could forget about, this could impact everything and implode everything that was normal in your life. 

“I do feel the same,” he said, stepping forward, like the words were waiting to explode. “I’ve felt the same for so long. You think I would’ve kept calling if it didn’t matter? I was losing sleep over you, and you were acting like we never happened.”

Your voice broke. “I just… I didn’t want to ruin everything.”

His hand found yours, gently, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed. It was warm, compared to the cold air hitting you. “Then let’s not ruin it. Let’s start something. Because I can’t go back to pretending I don’t want more.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “I don’t want to pretend either.”

He brushed your hair from your face, the gesture so soft and so familiar it made your throat ache. “Do you think we won’t work out?”

“I don’t want to think that,” you whispered. “I was scared to risk it. But now... I think you’re worth the risk.”

A slow smile tugged at his mouth. “You’ve always been worth it to me.”

A silence. A beat. Your breath hitched and your heart thumping. 

You smiled back. “Then make the move.” 

He kissed you then—slow, tender, warm, but most of all, certain. Not testing the waters, but like he knew. Like he has been waiting. His hand curled around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head like he was scared you’d disappear again. Forget the cold air of the night, you had George to warm you up. You kissed him back, your fingers tangled in his curly hair, trying to tell yourself this wasn’t a dream. 

When you finally pulled away, your breath was still caught in your throat.

“You’re such a silly goose for thinking I didn’t have feelings for you,” he said, resting his forehead against yours. You let out a breathless laugh, your arms wrapped around his neck. 

“So what now?” You asked hesitantly, tilting your head to stare straight into his blue eyes–something you’ve been stopping yourself from doing since Day 1 on the Inside. 

“Well, what do you want?” He asked, nudging you slightly. 

“I want you.” You said, without hesitation. Without question. Without concern. 

He let out a breath, the kind you only let go when you’ve been holding it in too long. “Then that’s all I needed to hear.” Smiling, he said your full name, slowly, like each syllable mattered. “Would you like to be my girlfriend?”

Your breath hitched, heart pounding like it was about to leap out of your chest. 

So you didn’t answer, at least not with words.

You just kissed him again—firm, passionate, smiling against his mouth—and this time, it wasn’t to test the waters. 

It was to say yes. To him, and to everything that once scared you.

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

taglist: @rubyskies @edgyficuselastica @gmontaguesbitch @sundarksposts @canyouseethesainz @lovingaphroditesworld @maggie-readss @liz140569 @lmaowhathaha @moofilms @lalisasrealwife @courtjjade @bowielovesyou @raekensluver @cuntessaii @theresglittleronthefloor @isabelle-2934 @smzyyx @wroetominter @madforgeorge @megan-jane02 @lottiewills @cheesystylesig @suspicious-stain-in-spain @kneelforloki @wherethezoes-at @clarkey4life @madsclarkey

[morlock-holmes]

Well, it's the first one, pretty much.

More than that, I was summarizing what was essentially the anti-gay argument during that period of time.

For really obvious (and in my view, correct) reasons, as the gay rights movement continued to build steam a lot of pro-gay-rights people started comparing the push to legalize gay marriage with the push to legalize interracial marriage.

Which was a bit of a pickle for the mainstream right-wingers who were against gay marriage. The movement to legalize interracial marriage is pretty much cemented in mainstream America as a good thing. If you wanted to write for the National Review or Wall Street Journal between 1995 and 2015 you pretty much had to take the position that interracial marriage should be legal.

So in order to be against Gay marriage, you had to essentially invent a reason why gay marriage is different from straight, interracial marriage.

And the reason that they invented is what I gave above: That gender and sexual orientation are far less superficial, far more universally important than America's bans on interracial marriage.

And that because these things were so much more fundamental, it was an immature fantasy to imagine that any society could actually normalize gay marriage without, basically, a total upending of all existing value systems, an utter rewriting of centuries of deeply rooted instinct about sex and sexuality.

And that turned out to be complete crap; as you say, visibility, humanization and legal victories managed to push towards marriage equality, and we didn't, in fact, require a total transformation of American value systems.

In fact, things worked out kind of the opposite to how the conservatives of my youth and young adult-hood predicted: As gay people have become more and more accepted in American society, the fundamental question of "Where does sexual orientation come from?" has become less vitally important in American culture.

Which means it drives me up the wall to watch conservatives do the exact same thing with anti-trans politics, to trot out that same kind of "Actually this is about really fundamental biological reality, so there's no way that the fight for trans rights could play out like the fight for gay rights." arguments with seemingly no sense whatsoever that they said the same damn thing about gay rights, and it demonstrably wasn't true!

Hey so part of the argument around gay rights in the late 90s through the teens was.

"Hey, this is totally different from the civil rights movement. The idea that blacks and whites shouldn't sit at the same restaurant together was a recent invention in history, contingent on really specific American culture, so that was easy to change.

"But gay marriage deals with some of the most foundational feelings in human psychology and some of the most universal and ancient cultural practices! It's absurd to think that some glib answer about "consent" could overturn thousands of years of culture and psychology! Unless gay people come up with a knockout argument, there's never going to be a change, and frankly there probably is no argument strong enough to make homosexuality truly acceptable, when you weigh it against the whole history of human psychology."

And then, oops, turned out "Yeah just let consenting adults do whatever" totally worked! We didn't need to answer any of those thorny questions of human psychology and it has been years since I have seen anybody bother to even ask them.

I leave any analogy to modern day trans politics as an exercise for the reader.

[kanyerealdaughter]

— ★ BLEACH MEN IN THE MOTHERLAND

characters - renji , ichigo , uryu , byakuya , kenpachi , shinji , aizen , gin , kaname , kugo , kensei , rose , hisagi , kira. | pt II here! | all around the world event! |

—————————————————————————

RENJI ABARAI - got his sunglasses on, a bandana tied around his head, and a camera he barely knows how to use. he’s excited, loud, and absolutely dragging you along to everything.

safari reaction - loud and pumped. he’s yelling out names of every animal he sees like he’s on a quiz show.“ IS THAT A LION?! HOLYTHAT THING’S MASSIVE!”

grabs your hand excitedly every five seconds. nearly falls out of the jeep trying to get a better look.

food experience - brave. tries everything, even the spicy stuff he can’t pronounce. regrets it mid-bite, but powers through while sweating bullets.

“ i’m not weak, babe. i just need milk. like. right now.”

cultural experience - volunteers immediately to help with traditional dancing. terrible at it. locals are laughing with him, not at him he’s a hit. walks around in a locally made tunic the rest of the day, saying “ i look kinda noble, huh?”

he lets the locals braid a small piece of his hair, reluctantly. you tease him for days. before getting full on cornrows straight to the back.

—————————————————————————

ICHIGO KUROSAKI - starts off skeptical. he’s never one for “vacations” and keeps muttering, “ i’m gonna get sunburned and attacked by a hippo.”

safari reaction - quiet, cautious. sitting stiff in the jeep like he’s ready to throw hands with a rhino.“ is it gonna charge? that one’s gonna charge, right? babe..look at its eyes. eventually relaxes when you lean into him.

“…It’s beautiful though.”

food experience - picks at it at first. nervous about unfamiliar flavor tries something grilled completely falls in love.

“ this is way better than it looks. don’t tell my dad, he’ll make it weird.”

cultural experience - helps a local kid carry water buckets. tries to act chill, but the whole village sees and claps for him. he blushes and scratches his head, mutterin.

“ it wasn’t a big deal.” it was.

—————————————————————————

URYU ISHIDA - walks like the land itself has rules and he’s already memorized every one. he’s studying the land with reverence, stitching it into memory.

safari reaction - precise and quiet at first. be’s reading a field guide in the jeep like a straight-A student. “ this bird is a lilac-breasted roller. native to sub-saharan africa.” but when he sees a leopard stalking in the distance, he freezes in place, whispering,

“…incredible. the way it moves..” you can tell he’s blown away but trying to keep it contained.

food experience - he asks about every spice, every cooking method, and tries the dishes politely. when something’s too spicy, he clears his throat, takes a sip of water, and says.

“ it’s very… expressive.” you tease him about it, and he mutters something under his breath.

cultural experience - be gets pulled into a fabric market and becomes absolutely fascinated by the craftsmanship.

you lose him for twenty minutes find him buying traditional woven cloth and discussing thread quality. an elder notices his hair and glasses and tells him how handsome he looks. a group of young local girls giggles near him and asks if they can braid just one strand “for luck.”

he hesitates, blinking. “…just one?” they giggle more, and soon he’s sitting awkwardly as they add a thin braid near his temple, tied with a blue bead.

he acts embarrassed, but doesn’t take it out. later, he quietly asks. “ do you think it suits me?”

“ a lot more than you think.”

—————————————————————————

BYAKUYA KUCHIKI - arrives looking like royalty white linen, perfectly calm, and somehow not sweating at all. locals assume he’s some visiting prince. he doesn’t correct them.

safari reaction - he was just silent admiration. you can practically see him analyzing animal hierarchy.

“ that lion leads with silent authority. admirable.”

“ did you just compliment a lion’s leadership?” you aksed him.

“ naturally.”

food experience - eats politely, slow and precise. nods with solemn respect.

“ this meal reflects discipline and heritage.” asks you later which dish you liked and tries to recreate it with you back home.

cultural experience - bows to elders. observes all rituals with reverence. receives a symbolic bracelet as a mark of respect. wears it. doesn’t say a word about it but never takes it off.

you know it meant something.

—————————————————————————

KENPACHI ZARAKI - doesn’t walk, he takes up space. The kind you feel before you see. but what surprises you is how the locals respond, not with fear, but curiosity. the children gather around him. maybe they recognize something primal in him.

safari reaction - too loud. too hyped. the animals are more afraid of him.“ THAT THING’S GOT TUSKS! LET’S SEE IF IT WANTS TO SPAR!”

the guide has to tell him at least four times not to get out of the jeep. you end up physically holding his sleeve so he doesn’t go chase a giraffe.

“ just to test its footwork.”

food experience - eats like it’s a battle. spicy? good. gamey? better. mystery meat? even better.

“ THIS STUFF’S AMAZING. I DON’T EVEN CARE WHAT ANIMAL THIS USED TO BE.”

cultural experience - the locals are cautious at first, but the kids love him instantly.

he lets them climb on his shoulders and yell like warriors. they give him a wooden spear and declare him “ honorary strongest.” zaraki grins wide. “ i like this place.”

—————————————————————————

SHINJI HIRAKO - is vibing from the second he lands. hawaiian shirt open, shades on, straw in a coconut before anyone else.

safari reaction - chill and joking the entire time. pretending to narrate like he’s on national geographic.“ and here we see the majestic soul reaper, trying not to freak out at elephant poop.” you laugh so hard you almost drop your water bottle.

food experience - loves it. even the weird stuff. “ spice? heat? i live for danger, babe.” you just rolled your eyes as he tries fermented milk. regrets it instantly but hides it with a smirk.

cultural experience - joins in on music immediately. Plays drums off-beat but full of joy. local kids follow him around thinking he’s a funny uncle.

he ends the day teaching them silly soul society phrases while they teach him dance moves.

—————————————————————————

SOSUKE AIZEN - shows up dressed like he’s filming a luxury cologne ad. locals immediately notice his presence they mostly stare at him the entire time.

safari reaction - stares at everything like he’s calculating how it fits into the grand design of the universe.calm, collected, but lowkey impressed.

“ that lion understands dominance better than most captains i’ve met.”

“ can you not villain monologue at the wildlife?”

food experience - unbothered. eats elegantly, even off a banana leaf. “ this is refined. strong flavors, balanced textures.” quietly compliments the cook in their language. you swoon. alittle too much.

cultural experience - participates only when invited but when he does, he’s all in. helps restore a mural with local artists. you catch him staring at it later like it told him a secret.

“ i wonder what history lives in the silence here.”

—————————————————————————

GIN ICHIMARU - got that sly smile, straw hat tilted low, and he somehow knows all the shortcuts around the village before anyone tells him.

safari reaction - leaning back, eyes nearly closed, but he’s aware of everything. makes sly comments like.

“ that cheetah’s fast….” you watch him mimicking predator movements when no one’s looking. fox-boy vibes.

food experience - eats whatever’s offered with a grin. “ don’t tell me what it is. i wanna guess.” gets it right every time, which is suspicious. gives you the best bits off his plate without asking.

cultural experience - charmed the locals instantly. learned two phrases in the language before lunch. ends up surrounded by laughing kids, showing them little sleight-of-hand tricks. gives them shiny buttons as “secret treasure.”

later whispers to you, “ this place’s got good energy. honest. i like that.”

—————————————————————————

KANAME TOSEN - doesn’t come for the aesthetics. he comes for the soul of the land.

safari reaction - sits silently, calmly taking in the surroundings through sound. “ i don’t need to see them to know their presence. the earth shifts with them.”

you swear he’s more in tune than anyone else. he even hears the rustle of elephants before the guide does.

food experience - eats slowly, mindfully, savoring each bite. “ these flavors hold memory… you can taste history in them.” thanks the cooks in a gentle, respectful tone. locals are deeply moved.

cultural experience - sits quietly with the elders, listening to their stories, drums, chants.

when invited, he offers his own words not about soul society, but about peace. later, he tells you. “ their resilience… it humbles me.” honestly he never wants to leave.

*bonus*

the two of you had spent the afternoon listening to stories beneath a wide acacia tree, the shade giving reprieve from the golden heat. kaname, as always, sat composed, calm, his braided hair catching the soft breeze like strands of black silk. the elders admired his posture, his peaceful aura. but it was the local women weavers of fabric, hair, and wisdom who truly took notice.

one of them smiled, her fingers busy with a young girl’s curls.

“ his hair is beautiful. but it could carry more meaning. may we?” you turned to kaname, not sure how he’d respond. he blinked once, surprised by the request his braids were personal, something he wore with intention and reverence.

he stood slowly. “ if you are willing to share your tradition with me… i would be honored.” they seated him beneath a tree, and you sat nearby, watching with a quiet smile.

he kept his head bowed respectfully as three women worked gently through his braids. they murmured among themselves in a mixture of admiration and playfulness.

cowrie shells. patterns woven in threes, symbolic of vision, truth, and memory. a braided line that curved, representing the path to clarity. beads at the end, clinking softly like wind chimes when he moved.

when they were done, kaname gently touched the side of his head, feeling the differences.

“ these carry meaning?” one elder woman nodded proudly. “ they speak of someone who listens deeply…”

he stilled, jaw tight with emotion. for a man often seen only for his silence, being understood without explanation hit deep. you leaned in, brushing your fingers over a bead that had your favorite color.

“ looks good on you.” you told him, kaname tilted his head.

“ then i will wear them with pride. for what they mean… and because you were here when i received them.” and for the rest of the evening, he walked among the people not as a soul reaper, not as a captain but as a guest, respected and adorned in their culture’s gift.

—————————————————————————

KUGO GINJO - walks like a man who’s outrun storms but still checks the sky. his grin is sharp, his presence magnetic. he talks big, won’t shut up even you tell him to. but he watches everything. one doesn't just want to visit he wants to understand.

safari reaction - points at a lion and says. “ that’s me if i hadn’t mellowed out.” smirked at the baboons fighting, makes jokes the whole ride.

gets weirdly quiet near the elephants.

“ they carry a lot.”

food experience - picks up a skewer, bites in without hesitation. “ hm, not bad.” he nodded slowly, offering you a bite while taking a bite on the same side. he asks how to make the spice mix and gets a full lesson.

insists on helping cook the next night burns it. still eats it.

cultural experience - joins a drum circle, doesn’t miss a beat. starts breakdancing, gets cheered on by local teens. sits with elders late into the night, listening. no smile just respect. he gives you a gazania flower and you puts it in your hair/behind your hair.

—————————————————————————

KENSEI MUGURUMA - is already mad because it’s hot, there’s no AC, and he stepped in animal poop on the first day.

safari reaction - first five minutes: “ it’s hot. bugs everywhere. i’m gonna punch the next mosquito.”

next ten minutes: “OH MY GOD THAT’S A CROCODILE—” by the end he’s standing on the jeep seat, binoculars out, fully invested.

food experience - grills meat with local dudes. bonding happens over fire and spice.

“ okay yeah, this is good. better than that crap in squad 9’s mess hall.” you try to take his plate and he growls like a lion. it’s playful… mostly.

cultural experience - gets pulled into an arm wrestling by locals. wins. Immediately regrets it. but everyone cheers and lifts him up like a hero. he blushes, scratches his neck.

“…guess they’re not so bad.”

—————————————————————————

ROJURO ‘ROSE’ OTORIBASHI - is thriving. he’s dressed in flowing clothes, sketchbook in one hand, composing orchestral pieces in his head from birdsong and drumbeats.

safari reaction - dressed like an eccentric professor, eyes half-closed, sketchbook in hand.

describes everything like a poem. “ the wind hums in the mane of the lion… a crescendo of primal power.”

“ can you just say ‘cool lion’ like a normal person?”

food experience - loves trying unique flavors. dishes out poetic praise after every meal: “ this stew complex, like a tragic romance.” locals are confused but flattered. you facepalm.

cultural experience - a couple of locals braided his hair two braids to the back. he joins local musicians instantly. harmonizes with drums using a handmade flute he bought on the spot. later, he pulls you aside and plays a tune he made up just for you.

“ i wanted you to have a memory… in music.”

—————————————————————————

SHUHEI HISAGI - arrives serious and composed, ready to document everything for his next seireitei communication article.

safari reaction - serious and focused at first. has a camera, takes notes like he’s doing a report. but slowly relaxes, eventually laughing when a monkey tries to snatch your water bottle.

“ okay… this is kinda awesome.”

food experience - sincere and polite. Tries to learn the history behind every dish. asks questions, takes mental notes, nods often. by dinner, he’s sharing food with the kids like he’s known them for years.

cultural experience - takes part in a blessing ritual. gets a mark painted on his face by an elder. freezes when you say he looks beautiful.

“…i didn’t expect this to hit me so hard.” you hold his hand. He squeezes it tighter than usual.

—————————————————————————

IZURU KIRA - is quiet, respectful, and haunted by how grounded and real everything feels compared to his usual sterile world.

safari reaction - quiet. still. watching everything with gentle eyes. the moment he sees a mother elephant with her baby, he whispers.

“ that’s… really something.” you realize he’s not just watching animals he’s healing.

food experience - careful, but respectful. tastes things slowly. when something is too spicy, he quietly sips water and smiles through it.

“ it’s a different kind of pain. but i don’t mind it.”

cultural experience - participates in a quiet poetry exchange with a local elder. you find him writing in a notebook under a tree, listening to wind and music.

“ being here… it reminds me that there’s still gentleness in the world.”

𖣂 KANYEREALDAUGHTER SPEAKS - i actually love the name kaname sm. deadass gonna name my kid kaname..

words - 2.5k

» , ᴀ ᴋᴀɴʏᴇʀᴇᴀʟᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

copyright ©️. ᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ . «

[chonny-jash-hottakes]

Helloooo Mama Nerve here;

I think this fandom has a horrible issue of dehumanizing all of the artists within it, especially on Jashtok and the likes.

The artists in this fandom aren't treated as humans, but instead are boiled down to nothing more than the object of the non-artists judgement. If you are so bold as to somehow end up a popular artist here, you are disconnected from your humanity and you're expected to just accept that. Your boundaries and feelings are completely disregarded and all you become in the eyes of the public is entertainment.

THE ARTISTS IN THIS FANDOM ARE NOT MAKING THEIR ART FOR YOU. They are doing it for themselves and, in some cases, Chonny. But not even that is a default. Artists do not owe you anything.

You are not entitled to their autonomy, it is not your right to act as though your unwarranted criticism is automatically correct, and it is not your right to degrade those artists who do not TAKE your unwanted criticism.

Wardin does not make her art for YOU, Zundamind does not make its art for YOU, I do not make my art for you, just as Chonny himself does not make his art for any of US. It is for him and him alone.

nobody in the world owes you anything except basic respect and thats it. stop being assholes and honestly suck it up

Speak your truth!! I'm bad at writing paragraphs but I do have to agree. People make art for themselves and if it just so happened to be related/based off of/involving certain characters, it's still their art for themselves.

I think I worded this correctly?

[mandoriana]

1. The Origin: Merlin as a Moral Compass

From the very beginning of the series, Merlin serves as the true “ethical center” of Arthur. Arthur, shaped by Uther’s cruelty and rigidity, is initially arrogant and impulsive. Merlin, with his humanity, sense of justice, and compassion, acts as a silent corrective force.

Example: “The Labyrinth of Gedref” (1x11)

In this episode, Arthur faces the dilemma of sacrificing his life to save Camelot from the plague sent by the “judge” Anhora. Merlin tries to drink the poison in his place:

Merlin: “You should not be the one to die for this.”

Arthur: “It’s my responsibility.”

Merlin: “Then let me share the burden.”

Here, Merlin tries to stop Arthur from going through with the ritual necessary for his maturation. However, it is precisely by facing death that Arthur proves his worth as an altruistic leader. Had Merlin succeeded in interfering, he might have undermined this crucial learning moment.

This episode anticipates the recurring pattern: Merlin seeks to protect Arthur from pain but inadvertently risks preventing him from growing.

2. The Evolution: From Compass to Manipulator

As the seasons progress, Merlin’s confidence in his vision of the future grows. He increasingly believes that he knows what is best for Arthur, even if this requires lying, hiding, or manipulating.

Example: “The Wicked Day” (4x03)

Merlin poisons Morgana, knowing that this could result in her death, to ensure Arthur’s safety and prevent Uther from being saved by Dragoon’s magic. When Uther dies, Arthur radicalizes against magic. Merlin watches in silence, convinced that he had no other choice.

Here we already see a Merlin who makes extremely high-stakes moral decisions alone, believing that the end justifies the means.

3. The Tragic Climax: Merlin Sabotages Arthur’s Moral Compass

Example: “The Despair of Merlin” (5x05)

Arthur decides to spare Mordred, to trust him, and, most importantly, he considers decriminalizing magic — the dream Merlin always had for Albion. Arthur says:

Arthur: “Perhaps magic is not all evil. Perhaps we have been wrong.”

This is the apex of Arthur’s transformation: compassionate, just, and willing to break the cycle. But Merlin, dominated by the belief that Mordred will be his ruin, manipulates the situation so that Mordred feels betrayed.

Merlin prevents trust from flourishing and sabotages the possibility of reconciliation between Arthur, Mordred, and magic practitioners.

It is at this moment that Merlin ceases to be the moral compass and becomes the greatest obstacle preventing Arthur from following his own.

4. The Parallel with Classical Tragedies

Merlin’s trajectory strongly echoes Greek tragedies, such as Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex or Shakespeare’s Macbeth.

Like Oedipus, Merlin tries to escape a prophecy — that Mordred will cause Arthur’s death — but, in attempting to avoid this fate, he ultimately fulfills it. Just as Oedipus blinds himself to his role in the tragedy, Merlin blinds himself to the fact that his manipulation is creating the very scenario he fears.

Relevant quote: Gaius, about prophecies:

“The future is never clear, Merlin. It is always changing. Like ripples in a pond.”

But Merlin ignores this lesson, clinging to the prophecy as an unquestionable certainty.

Like Macbeth, Merlin allows himself to be consumed by his vision of the future and by the need to control events, even if it means acting against what he once considered morally right.

5. The Final Tragic Irony

At the end of the series, Arthur dies, exactly as predicted. Merlin, who spent years sacrificing his own happiness and morality to protect Arthur, is ultimately unable to save the life he loved most. Not only that: he also prevents Arthur from completing his mission of restoring magic and building a truly new Albion.

Merlin, who began as the guardian of hope, becomes — unintentionally — the agent of its destruction.

Example: Arthur’s last words to Merlin

Arthur: “You’ve always been there, Merlin.”

Merlin: “I always will be.”

The tragedy is that “being there” for Arthur also meant shaping and restricting Arthur’s path according to Merlin’s own fears.

6. Conclusion: The Inversion of the Moral Compass

Thus, Merlin begins as Arthur’s moral compass but, by placing himself as the only one capable of “saving” him, transforms into a manipulator who prevents Arthur from following his own path — precisely when Arthur is ready to be the King of Albion, no longer just a reflection of Uther.

The series neither condemns Merlin nor fully redeems him. As in the greatest tragedies, he is simultaneously the hero and the villain of his own story.

(Sorry my English, I loved this analysis and had to write more about it.)

Is Merlin Arthur's moral compass? Or is he leading Arthur astray? In season one episode 11 "The Labyrinth of Gendref", Merlin tries to drink the poison for Arthur. But if he had listened to Merlin, he wouldn't have passed the test. Merlin is trying to protect Arthur, but in doing so, corrupts his and Arthur's moral compasses. This continues throughout the series until I believe it culminates in season 5 episode 5 "The Disir". Merlin goes against what he knows is right in order to "protect Arthur" and manipulates Arthur into going against his own moral compass that was leading him to saving Mordred and returning magic. Instead, Merlin is so blinded by his need to save Arthur at all costs, he seals his doom. In this essay, I will

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

https://www.tumblr.com/thirty34four/785448623003566080/beard-still-going-strong-i-see

so I can't prove it but the only reason he hasn't shaved his beard yet is cause ace loves it... for you know what - 🎀

omg girl you are absolutely correct 😭 and then twelve hours later he shaved that gorgeous beard - what a day for willy’s face!

but yessss, ace loves the beard and have a little blurb

“don’t shave,” you straddle willy’s hips, leaning forward and scratching your nails through the thick, coarse hair on his face. “i like the beard”

willy playfully bucks his hips up into yours, the hardening outline of his cock against your cunt making you whine and wiggle

“i gotta shave eventually, i think gunnar’s starting to get scared,” willy laughs. his fingers trail up and down your thighs and you laugh too, because he’s probably right. gunnar hates the beard, hates the scratch of the hair on his skin when willy kisses him or blows raspberries on his stomach. but still, you selfishly love the beard.

you whine and pout. “but you look so good with it,” you cup his chin in your hand, “all rugged and tough.”

“and i don’t look tough without it?” willy deadpans, fingers slipping under the hem of your shorts to caress at the crease of your thigh.

“no,” you grin wickedly, “you look 10 years younger.” a gasp hiccups its way out of your lungs when willy’s fingers find your wet cunt, dipping into the mess lazily and dragging your arousal back and forth

“cougar,” willy counters, taking advantage of your distraction to nip at your fingers.

you clench around nothing, wiggling to get his fingers where you want them. “willy,” you drag his name out, “please? oh my god.”

“any other reason you like the beard?” he asks innocently, knowing what your answer will be

a desperate nod and you gasp, “yes, please i need it between my legs. i love how it feels on my skin when you eat me out”

willy flips you easily so you’re flat on your back, discarding your shorts and panties easily. his smile is hungry, a flash of teeth behind the bristles of his beard, “just what i wanted to hear, ace”

and then he gets to work, his head disappearing between your legs, his lips wrapping around your clit and sucking until you’re wailing his name. he gets his tongue buried deep in your cunt, the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thighs chafed raw by the beard. you wriggle and squirm against his face, crying out for more even as you’re squirting all over him, the guah of your orgasm soaking his face and shoulders

willy pushes your leg back to your chest to open you up more and licks you clean, rubbing his face against your cunt like a cat, soaking your smell into his beard and rubbing his nose against your clit to make you come again

he draws two more orgasms out of you, leaving you soaked and sore and chafed, skin red from the abrasion of his beard, and completely limp limbed.

you scratch at his cheeks, fingers wet with your own come, and willy licks at your palm, laughing when he kisses you and you mumble, “you smell like me”

“yeah,” he agrees, “i do”

“you’re mine,” you whisper against his lips

“yeah,” he agrees, “i am”

later, you wander your way to the park with him and gunnar, playing a few rounds of tennis against him before the chafing between your legs gets to be too much. willy meets a few fans, takes some pictures, and you join in too - chatting with everyone and letting them meet gunnar briefly. it’s so nice being surrounded by supportive fans who aren’t being pushy or awful

gunnar freaks out on willy with the beard when you’re back home, refusing to go to him and clinging to your neck.

“i think you might have to shave,” you admit glumly. he also still smells like you, even though he showered and washed his face. and as much as you love marking him as yours, even you can admit that maybe he shouldn’t be wandering the streets of toronto and meeting fans while smelling like sex

willy rubs his palm over his cheeks and agrees, looking bummed that gunnar doesn’t want to hang with him.

“beard gone,” he appears a few minutes later, doing jazz hands at gunnar. “daddy looks normal again, huh?”

gunnar agrees and flings himself from your arms into willy’s, making you laugh.

the extreme change in facial hair is noted by the fans on twitter too, especially since you and willy are spotted in a bar after dinner, getting a drink and hanging out with some friends. he jokes about joining whatever party is happening on the first floor of the bar and when you find out it’s high school musical trivia, you grin and tell him you would’ve paid money to see him answer some questions

of course, the beard isn’t gone forever. he grows it back and shaves multiple times over the summer, but your favorite will always be the full post-playoff beard that rubbed you raw between the legs 😌

[struungout]

I’m tired…

…of people telling newbies that all they need to do to fix their doll’s posing issues is to tIgHtEn ThE sTrInG. I’m coming for you people with a squirt gun.

How to Actually Make a Doll Handle Better:

Tighten/Loosen the string - Okay so yeah this CAN be helpful sometimes. Plenty of companies, artists and previous owners send dolls out too tight or too loose and it needs adjustment. This is basically 101 doll troubleshooting.

Note: Your doll shouldn't be so tight that you cannot comfortably pull hand/feet part out of their socket to replace them. I don't know why some of y'all do this shit, but I want to shake your head like an 8-ball every time you complain about not being able to get the doll's head off. OF COURSE YOU CAN'T! THE STRING CAN'T STRETCH ANY FURTHER! (also don’t keep the knot in the head because that’s making life harder for you too)

Elastic cord gauge is too thick/small for your specific doll - This, in my experience, tends to be the most likely cause of issues. Lot of people are under the impression that all dolls of specific sizes use the same size elastic, and that is not the case at all. I got dolls that need different size elastic for their arms vs their bodies. What thickness you need is completely dependent on how much room is available in the individual doll’s string channels.

As for why that is…

If you use too thick of elastic cord, it won't have room to move and thus won't pull back as well if at all (had this issue where my Raccoon Doll boy's hands wouldn't suck back into the wrist socket and his arms would also not sit nicely at his sides. Completely fixed when I used a thinner cord).

If too thin, then it won't have enough strength to pull pieces back together and you'll have an expensive rag doll.

Do yourself a favor and buy a pile of different sizes of elastic cord and experiment with what works in your individual dolls. I personally buy my elastic from Dollmore since they got a good collection of sizes with good strength for dolls, and even offer beige and brown colored cord (but if you have a local craft store with a good collection of elastic cord, that’d likely be even cheaper).

Elastic is complete garbage - If that shit stretches for days super easy, throw it away. Yes, we want stretchiness, but we also want that shit to snap back into place so all the parts pull together. Resinsoul and Iplehouse are two companies completely guilty of shipping their dolls with useless string in their dolls (not sure if that is still the case, but it was in all the times I purchased directly from them). It does not matter how tight you make this shit, it will not make your doll behave any better (if anything, now your doll is kicky, still floppy, and also it's impossible for you to switch hands and feet out).

Resin is too smooth - Lot of people love that silky smooth finish on their dolls, but now the parts have no friction and nothing to grab onto in their sockets. Hot glue sueding in the sockets helps a ton with amending this.

Wiring - If you want action figure level of control, this will get you at least partly there lmao. I've only bothered shoving wire into my dolls when they have truly bad joint designs (RIP Dust of Dolls and Lillycat lmao), but it’s always great to have this extra stability in more competently designed doll bodies.

String style is some cockamamie horseshit - A rare occurrence, but it happens (looking at you, Iplehouse and your fucked up cross-elastic-at-the-groin-before-going-down-legs nonsense). A majority of BJDs are strung in the one specific way because it's what works best and allows the elastic to do its job without hindrance.

If the doll in question isn’t over-engineered, you can sometimes restring them the Correct way, but usually dolls that are like this have to be modified to behave right.

[amphibiahawks321]

M!Reader : Don't worry! Let's try the way we practice! And remember there's no need to rush...

[Coral glasses nod, sweats already dripping from her forehead–Her and Y/N's hand came in contact]

[Coral interlock her hand–Y/N doing the same, her hand starts shaking]

Coral glasses : This... This Protocol means the intimacy is reaching its successful goal, R-Right?

M!Reader : Correct! Now, would you want me to anni the next step? Or do you want to do it?

[Coral staring at the ground for a moment–Lost in her thought for a bit]

M!Reader : Chuckles... Remember, no need to rush, we can wait if–

[Coral successfully placing her other hand onto Y/N's cheek]

.....

[Y/N thought 💭]

Aww!! God, how can someone be so adorable and is a Dorking mess at the same time... ^v^

[Coral glasses thought 💭]

Oh no... Protocol overload—hand to cheek interaction was not in the predicted comfort range, RETREAT?! No—wait! Retreat is failure! But... His skin is so soft—what is this texture?? IS THIS LOVE OR A NEW FORM OF SKIN-BASED ANXIETY?!—

Coral glasses : I-I believe... the next step is... facial proximity? 6.4 centimeters? With optional emotional vulnerability?

M!Reader : Pftt–Chuckles... You don’t need to calculate it, Coral, Just... whatever feels right for you!

Coral glasses : I-I see… So… intuitive response over predetermined data set…

M!Reader : Exactly! And right now, what is your intuitive response telling you to do next?

Coral glasses : I... I believe the next logical course of action would be...

[She leans in, just a twitch forward, Then stops, Her entire face overheating(like an overclocked computer)]

Coral Glasses : I… I must now initiate Lip-Based Contact Confirmation—

M!Reader : Laughs softly... You can just say kiss, Coral

Coral Glasses : I... I was going to... but then the word got stuck in my throat like a corrupted file...

....

[She closes the gap slowly nervous, jittery, but determined–Their lips meet in a fleeting kiss, A paper coming out of head, saying : "Successful data...#2"]

[Coral pulls back, dazed]

M!Reader : ...it's still a surprise how soft your lips are!

Coral glasses : W-...Was that a successful kiss?

M!Reader : absolutely!

Coral glasses : .....

M!Reader : Chuckles... See! You did better when we did our First kiss–Boy you passed out for like—

[Y/N staring Infront of him — seeing Coral's face in complete blush, sweating all over... And her body is trembling and is literally about to shut down to the ground–

M!Reader : W-Woa-WOAH! WOAH!!

[strange-anni]

Your answer just made me realize how weird Vickies trajectory from not caring about Robin to "falling in love with her" actually is. So lets look into it.

This is the moment where it seems like Vickie is actually done with the conversation she had with Robin. She laughed at a joke Robin repeated and then just stopped caring to keep the conversation going.

@bylerlipglances is completely right. Vickie could have said literally anything to keep talking to Robin. I mean they are at a sports event! Nothing is easier than to start a random conversation at a sports game. It could range from "Ugh. I hate it here. I hope we get to go home soon" to "Yay! I hope we can win! Go Tigers!", "The tiger mascot looks so silly," "I like the part with the cheerleaders best," or just a question like "Do you think we can win?" There are so many opportunities and Vickie takes none of them.

Even then I think it could still be possible that Vickie is just nervous and says the wrong words at the wrong time except ...

... she doesn't look like that at all. She is pointedly looking away from Robin almost like she wants to avoid getting talked to again.

This is also the first time (as far as we can tell) that Robin had let her true self slip through in front of Vickie and if that is how she reacts to it it doesn't bode that well for them I fear.

To me Vickie is giving off vibes like she doesn't want to have anything to do with Robin at all because if it'd be different and she really wanted to talk to Robin again she'd at least smile or try to get a second look at Robin to make sure she didn't accidentally hurt her feelings or anything. Yet there is nothing of the sort.

This continues here. When even Brenda and Steve share a High-Five and a moment of happiness after the Tigers won (thanks to Lucas!) Vickie still isn't looking at Robin.

How easy would it be to just turn around and say something about how happy she is that the Tigers won. Or share a half hug, an awkward High-Five like Steve and Brenda or anything at all. Robin is right there next to her and Vickie does nothing.

Fast forward to their next scene and this is what Vickie sees right after she notices Robin and Steve standing not that far away from her and Dan. She sees Robin and then Steve right behind her licking his lips.

I don't even know what to make of this whole scene were it not for the fact that I suspect this is a lot more about Steve and Vickie than Robin and Vickie.

Vickie sees Robin next to Steve giving her the information that they probably know each other which then could be revealed to her as true when Robin leaves and Steve looks after her.

This then could make her question in what kind of relationship they actually are. Are they friends? Or a couple perhaps? Vickie would not know.

Yes, I know the common interpretation of this scene is that Vickie is shown to be upset because Robin sees her with her boyfriend but that would require at least some sort of interest in Robin which she hasn't shown before. If Vickie had done anything to express interest in any form this could be the correct interpretation but she hasn't. So why would she be upset because of Robin?

Now Vickie is suddenly eager to talk to Robin which to me seems to come out of nowhere. She had no interest before but now she can't keep her mouth shut and is revealed to be pretty similar to Robin in personality. It just doesn't make any sense to me. What happened to cause that change?

After apologizing for making it sound like she isn't happy to see Robin Vickie starts talking about Dan and how she is no longer together with him before she mentions Fast Times and how he didn't like the movie. This indicates that she does in fact like the movie but she also never tells us the reason why she likes it.

Dan dislikes it because it has no plot but why does Vickie like it? Is it because of Phoebe Cates or is it because of Judge Reinhold?

Then she talks about the people who are suffering which makes her look into the general direction of where Steve is standing before she realizes she created a "peanut butter monstrosity." She apologizes again for talking to much and gifts Robin one half of her peanut butter monstrosity and we also get to see Steve again who's smiling at them.

Again, this whole interaction between Robin and Vickie ended with Steve! It started with Steve and it ended with him and I have to ask why this has to be the case if he does not play a role here?

---

Then when I try to interpret this whole chain of scenes from a standpoint in which Vickie is crushing on Steve everything just clicks together for me. So let's look into that too.

First Steve learns that Robin has a crush on Vickie (He's learned that before S4 starts which we can assume due to Steve mentioning Vickie in the very first episode)

Then Vickie came to Family Video either to rent a movie or give it back. Steve would be the one to serve her and I think we can assume that he talked to Vickie at least for a bit especially since he knew Robin liked her

So Steve probably praised Fast Times in order to endear it to Vickie to maybe find out if she likes girls or not as it features Phoebe Cates who is objectively hot (according to the show)

Vickie gave the movie back at 53:05 which showed Judge Reinhold but Steve takes this as confirmation that she is into girls at first as Phoebe Cates shows off her chest a bit earlier in the movie (Except that is not what Vickie wanted to tell Steve at all. She paused it at Judge Reinhold to send Steve the message that she is into him as he is extremely Steve-coded - Many thanks to @greenfiend for pointing this out earlier)

Vickie laughs at a joke from Steve Robin repeats at the basketball game (Note that Vickie may or may not have realized that Steve is even there. I don't know)

Later when Vickie is with Dan at the Weapon Store she spots Robin and Steve not standing far away from them which makes her realize a few things: 1) Robin and Steve are close as they are standing together 2) Steve might have gotten the correct message she wanted to send him with Fast Times as he is licking his lips and is smiling at her and 3) Steve also knows now that she has a boyfriend which must complicate things for her

Dan leaves for college meaning Vickie is free again

Vickie meets Robin in the gym at the food stand and is surprised to see her there. Then she strikes a conversation and tells Robin exactly the things she wants to get across to Steve: 1) She doesn't have a boyfriend anymore meaning she is now available to him and 2) confirms again that she likes Fast Times (as it also features Judge Reinhold who is very reminiscent of the guy she wants to be with)

Vickie hopes Robin will take her message to Steve so they can meet and get to know each other better/ get to be a couple

It just makes so much more sense to me if viewed through that angle. Everything just clicks into place.

It's just a whole bunch of misreading each other. Steve misread Vickie when she gave the VHS back. Then Vickie misread Steve's behavior as him reciprocating her feelings and in the end Robin misreads Vickies behavior as her being interested in Robin.

It's a complete mess but it'd fit very well into the overall theme of the show where so many characters just assume things about others to be true based on their own observations about them. (Compare this with Dustin, Eddie and Robin pushing for stncy in S4. Or Will pushing for mlven. It's the exact same thing. They are all part of the club of mismatch makers)

Again, let me state that I do not think Vickie will get together with Steve as her feelings for him are not reciprocated and I doubt this is going to change in the future.

Vickie is straight

... and she has a crush on Steve

I know how controversial it is to state such an opinion given how Vickie seems to be one of the few characters in the show who actually seem queer. Yet if we are being honest she has never expressed any direct or indirect signs of actually being in love with Robin. It's Robin who is incredibly biased as she has a crush on Vickie and Steve who is trying to be supportive of Robin who gave us this assumption.

This whole thing is not as bad as it seems though. I can promise you this. So if you still care let me explain to you why I think Vickie is straight and has a crush on Steve.

Part 1: The Muppet joke

While still in the car with Steve in early S4 Robin gets reminded of her own advise: Just be true to yourself and stop pretending to be someone you're not. We need to keep this in mind as she is soon shown to not follow said advise.

When Steve reminds Robin at the basketball game that Tammy Thompson does sound like a Muppet she agrees with him. Vickie overhears this and in turn agrees with Robin.

The joke however doesn't originate from Robin. She just repeated what Steve told her before. Therefore the joke that made Vickie laugh comes from Steve. Or in other words: It was Steve who made Vickie laugh and not Robin.

We even get conformation of this a bit later in episode 2 when Steve admits and agrees out loud that it was his joke that made Vickie laugh.

Robin wasn't entirely herself.

While everyone is looking straight ahead it's Vickie who makes a point not to look in Robins direction after Robin is embarrassed of herself. There is distance between them.

Part 2: Vickie and Robin (and Steve) meet at the Weapon Store

It's Robin who notices Vickie first in the weapon store which is followed by Steve looking at her as he knows she has a crush on Vickie which is then followed by both of them looking sad as Vickies boyfriend enters the scene.

Robin is obviously sad because her crush has a boyfriend while Steve is just sad for his friend.

This shot is often brought up to proof that Robin is standing between Vickie and Dan as it's believed that her crush on Vickie is reciprocated but I don't think this is what it means exactly. It's Robins POV and she believes her feelings to Vickie are reciprocated so she sees herself as standing in between them.

But is it true? Let's look at what Vickie sees next.

Vickie notices the both of them and while Robin is just staring at her Steve is licking his lips. Then Robin turns around and leaves while Steve is still looking at Vickie and Dan and then smiles awkwardly at them.

So Steve is licking his lips and then smiles at Vickie and Dan. What message would Vickie receive here? My guess would be 1) Steve and Robin are close and 2) Steve might like Vickie as well.

This however is the last look we get of Steve in this scene. It's his back while he is still looking after Robin. So whatever made him lick his lips and smile is no longer of interest to him the moment Robin leaves. I think this means that he is Robins friend first and foremost. He is not romantically interested in Vickie and doesn't reciprocate her feelings at all.

Robin is gone and Steve has turned his back on Vickie but her gaze still lingers. Maybe her feelings towards her own boyfriend aren't as sincere as it seems and everything considered I think it's fair to ask who this is truly about? Robin or Steve? Is she saying the truth when she makes it about Robin who she did meet in band or is she using Robin as a shield as she doesn't want to admit to her boyfriend that she has a crush on another man aka Steve?

In the end she looks back towards her boyfriend and then again to the place where Robin and Steve just were. Is he perhaps still standing there?

Then we get a scene transition to Nancy holding a very long gun. It's not subtle at all.

Part 3: Providing Food for the Suffering

There is light behind Robin which can indicate that she is the one who is most sincere in this scene. This makes sense as it is true that Robin has a crush on Vickie.

It's Vickie who gives her the information that Dan is no longer her boyfriend but from the scene in the weapon store she also knows that Robin and Steve are close. So everything she says to Robin is likely to reach Steve as well which means that Robin could be the one to tell Steve that Vickie is single again and therefore available to him.

First notice how Vickie wears spiral earrings. This is very interesting to me as it's triangle imagery that is used to indicate queerness in the show. So here we have the supposed love interest of one of the only confirmed queer characters in the show not wearing triangle imagery when it really matters. Why? Because she is straight.

Vickie also mentions how she rambles about her boyfriend when there are people out there suffering at which point in time she looks up and slightly to her right. Later when the scene transitions from Robin and Vickie to Steve we also get him at a alight angle which to me indicates that Vickie was looking at him as she was lifting her head.

It's Steve who Vickie perceives as the one suffering and who she wants to provide with food. Or to put it a bit differently: It's Steve she has a crush on and who she wants to be with and support.

Steve on the other hand is also smiling and looking at Robin and Vickie. He is happy for the both of them as everything seems to be working out for Robin and Vickie which could not be further from the truth. He's also shaking his head just slightly. Most likely because he thinks a certain assumption he's made just an episode earlier turned out to be wrong.

That assumption about Vickie pausing Fast Times at 53:05 however might be true after all. Steve is just misreading the signs Robin and Vickie are giving off at the gym.

Tbc in a reblog because I almost hit image limit. Look here.

[brokenengene]

rip my heart out {chapter 3}

pairing: park jay x f reader. jake sim x f reader, yang jungwon x f reader

genre: zombie apocalypse au, slow burn romance, found family, action, dystopian

content warnings: intense themes, cursing/profanity, violence, weapon usage, dark themes, brief mention of past abuse, love triangles, angst, blood, injuries, death, kissing, sexual tension, suggestive content, smut in later chapters

chapter specific warning: lots of making out (oops), implied virginity loss (fade to black)

word count: 4.2k

soundtrack: if it's not with you - maggie lindemann

'Sparks'

October: One month before the outbreak

The school bell rings, and you clutch your backpack. Walking towards your next class period. You let out a sigh of dread. You don’t just hate biology. You’re not good at it either. For some reason, science just isn’t your strong suit. The staggering 'D' looks out of place on a report card filled with 'A's. 

“Alright, for our next unit, you’ll need to get into pairs. This course includes a lot of lab work, so choose wisely.” The teacher announces.

Perfect. Just what you want to hear. You sit nervously as the rest of the class giggles and gets into pairs. Ever since freshman year, you’ve always kind of been the odd one out. By this point, you’ve gotten used to it.

You fidget with your thumbs in your lap, and the sound of chatter from the classroom surrounds you. You’re snapped out of your trance by the sound of the door opening. A boy with large glasses and messy dark hair stumbles into the classroom. His arms are full of books. 

“Sorry, I’m late, Mrs.Dean. I won’t let it happen again!” He says as he takes the only open seat in the front, right next to you. You glance over at him, observing his frantic state. 

“Perfect timing! We have one student who is still looking for a partner. You’ll be working together for the rest of the unit.” Mrs. Dean says with a firm tone, leaving room for arguments as she gestures towards you.

 Embarrassed, you put your head on the desk. Hiding your face, wanting nothing more than for the day to come to an end. 

He looks at you with a soft smile. “Hey, guess we’re partners now? Are you excited about the new unit? I’ve been dying to get to this class. Cells, mutations, it’s all so fascinating, isn’t it?”

“Fascinating if it makes sense..I can’t even figure out the Punnett squares.” You say, pulling your face out of your elbows, looking up at your new partner with a weak laugh. 

“Oh yeah! Aren't you the girl who set off the fire alarm freshman year with your chemistry project?” He asks curiously.

“God, don’t remind me..” You say with a low groan as you open up your textbook, flipping to the correct unit page.

“Sorry, didn't mean to hit a nerve, Sparky..” He says innocently. Almost like he didn't realize the nickname made you hurt. If it were any of the popular kids calling you that name, you'd hate it. When it comes out of his mouth, it makes you feel completely different.

“Ah, Sparky, almost forgot about that,” you say with a soft, painful chuckle. You look him in the eyes, noticing his messy dark hair and large-framed glasses as he smiles back. “What's your-”

“Just call me Kent. Everyone does. You know, Glasses? Superman?” He swiftly interrupts you. Gesturing to his appearance. You have to admit, you do see it.

“Kent?” You ask, your expression softening as you feel his name fall from your lips.

“Yeah, it started back in middle school. The other kids were making fun of me, and it just kind of stuck.” He says with a weak laugh. 

You both diligently focus on your work until the bells ring. Mrs. Dean dismisses the class right on time. 

You let out a sigh of relief. Slamming your textbook shut and stuffing it into your backpack. You swing the bag over your shoulder as you start to walk down the crowded halls.

“Hey Sparks?” your new partner calls out as you shift through the crowded hallway. You stop in your tracks, turning to look at Kent pushing through the crowd.

He weaves in and out of the crowd until he finally reaches your side. You both step out of the way and lean against the lockers. He hands you a piece of paper with his phone number and real name scribbled on it with messy handwriting. 

You look up into his eyes, noticing just how big, round, and wide they are. Almost like you could see galaxies swimming behind the large frames of glass. 

“If you ever get stuck with the homework, don't hesitate to give me a call.”

You take the paper, a soft smile tugging at the corner of your lips. At the generous nature of his offer.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” You say, your voice laced with affection. 

No one at school has ever looked at you that way. After years of being the weird, quiet girl who sometimes tries a little too hard, for the first time, you feel seen.

“See ya around Sparks.” He says his cheeks are flushing as he holds his textbooks closer to his chest. He turns to weave through the crowded halls, fighting to make sure he isn't late to two classes in one day.

November: 3 weeks before the outbreak:

“Ladies and gentlemen, the time is now 8:45, the library will be closing in just fifteen minutes, please make your final selections and don't hesitate to ask a librarian for assistance. Thank You! And have a good night.”

Tears swell in your eyes as you look at your laptop. Textbooks and notes are spread over the computer desk. Your eyes are tired from exhaustion and lack of sleep.

Your midterm final for biology is coming up, and you're trying so hard to prepare. You’ve tried everything, flash cards, computer games, anything to help you pass. 

Over the past few weeks of helping, you and Kent have become closer. Friends even. The good morning texts, the study sessions, the late-night calls. You can't help but find yourself wanting to see him more, wanting to know him more. There's a tension between you that both of you keep denying out of nerves. 

“Hey Sparks, let's just go ahead and call it quits for tonight. I don't want you burning out before midterms.” Kent says as he softly pats your back in an attempt to provide comfort.

The lights dim.

“Why do I feel like such an idiot…I don't know why you even try to help me. At this point, it's a lost cause.” You say, sniffling from the tears, as you turn to pack your textbook and laptop back into your bag.

“Sparks.. don't say things like that.” He says firmly, grabbing your wrist to stop you from violently shoving your laptop into your backpack in frustration. You pause, breath hitching at his touch. Your eyes drop down to his hand wrapped around your wrist before he softly laces his fingers with yours under the desk.

“You're not a lost cause, ok? I can’t stand to hear you talk about yourself like that.” He says his voice is a soft, shaky whisper. He reaches up with his free hand to gently wipe away your tears with his thumb.

His heart races as he pulls you closer, his breath hitching at the proximity. The corner of his lips tugs into a smirk of disbelief. He's so close to you right now, his eyes flick down to look at your lips. A gentle gasp for air escapes his lips before he subtly licks his own. 

“You're the only person who doesn't treat me like I'm a walking study guide,” He says, chuckling softly with the self-deprecating comment. He's still so close. His hand slides to cup your face. Gently brushing against your hair, around your ear.

“You are so intelligent, Sparks, I don't care if no one else can see it because I certainly can. You’re beautiful inside and out.”

He whispers against your lips. Your heart stops. There's only a few breaths of space between you two.

“I’ve been dying to kiss you, Sparks..”

He whispers, his voice barely audible at how soft and delicate it is. You squeeze his hand tightly as you take a deep breath, subtly giving him consent.

“Is that a yes?” He asks softly against your lips. Knowing this could change everything between you for better or for worse.

“It's a yes.."

He leans in, nervously capturing your lips with his own. You're breathless as he parts your soft lips with your own. You squeeze his hand tighter. Without words still telling him, you want this.

You start to get comfortable with the feeling. Warmth fills your chest as you taste the lingering peppermint from your shared latte. Your lips part with a soft gasp. He seizes the opportunity to taste you even more. 

He captures your lips again, harder, with a little bit of added suction. Only to release them, but not for long. His hand releases yours as it slides to grip your waist. He tits his head slightly, quickly diving in to taste more of you.

The cool material of his glasses presses against your cheek as he kisses you. 

“God, Sparks..” He whimpers breathlessly against your lips. The library is so quiet, you can hear the racing beat of his heart. His cheeks flushed a soft pink with arousal.

He looks into your eyes, his glasses slightly fogged from the heat of your breath combined. He leans in to kiss you again, laughing nervously as his glasses knock against your nose.

“Shit, sorry..” He whispers. His glasses crooked on his nose and fogging up again as your lips softly drag against his own shamelessly. You gently tug at his bottom lip before letting it go. 

You reach up, gently cupping his face before locking eyes with him. You hesitate before grabbing the edge of his glasses, slowly sliding them off his face, and gently laying them on the computer desk. 

“Sparks, keep kissing me.” He whimpers as you lean back in, claiming his lips with your own. His lips part in invitation, and you gladly accept. Softly letting your tongue meet his with a breathless moan.

“God, I'm so into you-” He whimpers as he starts to fall apart right in the middle of the cold, dark library.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the time is now 8:55, the library will be closing in just five minutes, please make your final selections and don't hesitate to ask a librarian for assistance. Thank You! And have a good night.”

You slow the kiss to a stop, breaking away nervously as you hear the announcement on the intercom. Your lips glistening and swollen as you look down at him. “I guess we should probably get going.”

You swiftly pack your things. The tension thickens between you as you exit the library. You cross your arms around your chest at the cold wind. You can see your breath in the air as you struggle to steady your still-racing heart. 

You walk by Kent's side as flurries of snow start to fall. The snow quickly picks up, sticking to your hair and clothes. The white flurries stick to the top of his dark hair like powdered sugar.

You continue to tread through the snow, and it only starts to fall quicker and quicker. The Christmas lights tied around the light poles are covered in a thin sheet of ice. You watch nervously as cars slip and slide on the now icy road. You reach a few more blocks until you turn onto the driveway of Kent's house. The neighborhood looks like a scene out of a Christmas movie. The only cars parked outside are yours and his. 

“Hey Sparks, this looks pretty bad out there. You should just crash at my place for the night. It'll be dangerous for you to drive home in all that mess.” 

You both tumble in the door, bringing snow and mud into the hall.  Both were wet from the melted snow. You both take off your coats and boots. Letting out a soft laugh as you follow him up the stairs into his bedroom. 

“Here you can wear some of my clothes, I’m sorry you got all wet.” He says as he shuffles through his dresser before pulling out a pair of loose sweatpants and an oversized shirt. You take it, swiftly stripping your wet clothes off and sliding into the warm, dry ones that smell fresh yet sweet. Just like Kent.

He steps into his bathroom to change, giving you a little bit of privacy. Once you're both changed, you take a look at the clock. “God, it's been such a long day..” You say as you plop down on his mattress with a soft thud. 

You turn to Kent, your cheeks flushed from the cold and the memories of the kiss. The feeling still lingers in your tongue. He chuckles as he joins you on the mattress, his front pressing softly against your back. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close in the cold.

“So about that kiss..” He whispers, his breath warm against your neck. His hand came to rest on your waist. 

“What about it?” You whisper back, leaning back into his embrace. The heat between your bodies only intensifies.

“I've never kissed anyone like that before, that was...intense.” He says his breath is shaky as his lips brush against the side of your neck. He presses a gentle kiss to the softness of your skin.

“I can't stop thinking about how it made me feel.” He whispers, his hands shaky as they gently run underneath your skirt, brushing against your skin just above the waistband of his borrowed sweatpants.

“Sparks, I've never done anything like this, if you couldn't tell already.” He says his voice is shaky as you roll over to face him. You both awkwardly shift into position. You lie breathless beneath him, your heart stopping its beat just at the way he's looking at you. The room is incredibly dark, the only light coming from a small lamp on his study desk in the corner of his room. 

You both sink into the covers as he uses his knee to open up your legs, making room for him to lie comfortably on top of you. His forearms straining as he cages you in, hands on either side of your face.

Your breath hitches as he takes off his glasses in preparation for what's to come, tossing them onto the nightstand before cupping your face with the same hand.

He kisses you again, like he’s searching for something more. His breathing gets heavier as you feel him starting to get more turned on from the intimate nature of the moment.

He pulls away to catch his breath, his lips lazily dragging down your throat. The room feels like it's on fire as he whispers huskily against your skin. 

“I’ve never had a girl in my bed before.. And I've never been more turned on in my life. I want more, so much more.” He softly moans as he slides one of his hands down the side of your body. Confessing things he never imagined he'd say out loud.

“There were so many nights when I thought about you.” His grip on your hip tightens, whimpering as he kisses your lips harder, it's messy, it's rough, and you can feel his control slipping by the second.

“Sparks, I’m nervous if I go too far, I’ll mess everything up.” his voice is shaky as his fingertips push the oversized shirt up more and more, revealing your skin to his heated gaze. You can barely breathe at his confession. You nod, helping him to lift your shirt up and over your head.

 He says as he sits up on his knees, stripping his shirt off his body before coming back down to rest on top of you. His hands hold your waist down as he kisses down the side of your neck. You let out soft moans at the warm feeling of his lips. “I have no idea what I’m doing..But I want to learn everything about how to make you fall apart.”

“You don't sound like an awkward virgin right now.” You say with a breathless chuckle. He gasps into your lips again. His heart felt like it could beat out of his chest any moment. He’s feeling everything, nervousness, anticipation, desire.. “God, I'm not going to last long, you'll see..”

“I don't care. This is my first time, too.” You whisper into his ear as his head rests in the crook of your neck. His heart beats with intensity as you feel his breath on your skin. “I have no idea what to do either..” 

“Then let's figure this out...just be patient with me Sparks..” He says deeply as he trails kisses down your body. Every move he makes is purely on instinct. His lips make you forget any thought that isn’t about him. His body, his sounds, his everything. 

“If you say yes, I’ll learn every inch of you from scratch. Damn it, I’m shaking already..” He mumbles with a nervous chuckle as he kisses across the expanse of your exposed skin. “I don’t care how messy this gets, please, Sparks..Tell me you want this as badly as I do.”

With a whisper of three letters, your whole world changes with a “yes.”

Late November: The day of the outbreak {Kent's POV}

I feel like I’m in heaven as her lips are on mine. I kiss her back, but it’s obvious she’s the one in charge. My hands slide to her waist, thumbs tracing the waistband of her pants before I slide up to rub comforting circles into her lower back. 

Things heat up quickly. She's not holding back anymore now that she’s my girlfriend. I feel her body pressing desperately against mine. A soft chuckle falls from my lips, yet still I’m breathless.

“Woah, Sparks, slow down..” I gasp, the nickname slipping from my tongue with ease. 

I can't hold back either. Reaching down the side of the passenger seat and reclining the chair all the way back.

 “Comfortable?” I say playfully against her swollen lips. 

She grins, kissing me like she’ll never see me again. Laughing as she tangles her fingertips into my dark hair. Every moment with her feels like I’m in heaven. I haven’t known her long, but I don’t know what I would do without her. 

“What the fuck” she curses, slowly pulling away from me with furrowed brows. 

The music coming from the radio fizzles out. I try to catch my breath as I watch my girlfriend smash the channel button. Visibly Frustrated that the moment was ruined.  

I look past my girlfriend, glancing briefly out the window. Is that smoke? Flames even? Did a car catch on fire? I sit up in the passenger seat. 

“Is something on fire?”

I look out the window and see smoke and flames for blocks. Cars drive off the road, and the sound of terror can be heard from every corner. I can smell the ash and soot already. And I know in my gut, this isn’t good. 

The voice of a terrified news anchor cuts through the noise. Their voice is quivering, like they’re trying to keep it together on the air. 

“Authorities have warned all civilians to stay sheltered in place. There is an unknown disease spreading violently. Do not come in contact with anyone who appears to be infected. The National Guard has been deployed to areas with the highest infection rates-“

That’s all I hear before the radio cuts to static. 

“I’ve got to go-“

I watch as Sparks jumps out of the car, adjusting her clothes as he sprints north towards the direction of her house. 

“Sparks!”

I yell back, but she’s too quick, already gone. 

I quickly grab my jacket and throw the car door open. The smoke makes my eyes water as the cold wind blows it into my face. I started to run after her. More and more smoke is getting caught in my lungs. I pull up my shirt to try and filter the air. 

The city is in ruin. I step over mutilated bodies as I run in the same direction as Sparks. I hear sirens and the sound of tanks as the National Guard marches into the city. There’s blood, so much blood. But all I can think about is her and if she’s ok. 

Something slams into me, then everything goes black. 

Sirens wail as I slowly open my eyes. My body was lying lifeless on the concrete. Blood trickles down my face from my skull. My vision is hazy, glasses broken and thrown away from the crash. I look to my left to see a broken car crashed into a light pole right next to me. 

Holy Shit. 

I can’t move. 

I try to sit up, but I physically can’t. My body feels like it’s being held down to earth with a magnet. I just want to get to Sparks. I need to know she’s alive, but I’m frozen in place. 

Silent tears start to fall down my face as I lie nearly lifeless on the concrete, completely paralyzed. As I realize that’s the last time I might not be able to reach her. I notice the concrete turning red, and I'm not sure if it's my blood or someone else's. 

The noise of walkie-talkies cuts through the sirens. 

“Over here! There’s a boy! He hasn’t been infected yet.” Yells one of the soldiers. 

The rustling sounds of boots come closer and closer. But I’m too broken to care. 

“He’s still breathing! Load him onto the stretcher. Take him to the hospital in the safe zone.” The soldier yells. 

And that’s the last thing I hear before I wake up in hell.

Present day: 5 years after the outbreak

Jungwon sits at his desk, as focused as he can be on his second day of no sleep.. The bright, fluorescent lights of the underground cellar flicker as his eyes scan over more files, more charts, more maps. 

A tall man with dark hair pushes the door open. His expression was annoyed as he saw Jungwon sitting at his desk, still sifting through documents. His eyes were tired, and his skin was pale. 

“Insulin, just as requested boss.” The tall man says as he throws a poorly wrapped box onto Jungwon's desk. Jungwon looks up at him from the top of his files. 

“Thank you, Riki. You’ll be compensated accordingly.” Jungwon says bluntly as he immediately goes back to his files.

Jungwon pushes his chair back. Stretching his arms and shoulders as he walks towards the large board in the middle of his office. He looks over the lab tests and maps. His handwriting scribbled over the papers in red ink.

“Did we make any progress when I was gone, boss?” Riki asks curiously as he leans against the doorframe. His arms and tall legs crossed as he watched Jungwon pace back and forth. 

“Yes? Maybe? Ugh the virus mutates so fast it’s damn near impossible to study it. I still can’t figure out..just.. FUCK-“ Jungwon yells as he tosses his files with rage. He lets his fingers tug at his hair with frustration. 

“3 years.. 3 years since I escaped that hellhole and I’ve found nothing..how many more people are going to have to die!” He says as he puts his face in his hands with frustration. 

“Hey boss, don’t be too hard on yourself, we’re really all just tryin’ our best out here..” Riki says, his brows furrowing as he watches Jungwon, usually calm, collected, and stoic, lose it right in front of him. 

“But it’s not good enough! She’s still out there, and the S.P.A.R.K project has barely made any progress!” Jungwon yells back as he paces back and forth, his eyes tired from the endless nights of studying, searching. 

“Why’d you even call it that anyway? What’s so special about it? You’ve got this look in your eyes every time it gets brought up.” Riki says calmly. His brows furrowed with confusion. 

“It’s stupid..” Jungwon says as he lets out a deep sigh, finally calming down from his frustrations. He runs another hand through his hair, adjusting his glasses as he looks back at Riki.

“Don’t care. I like stupid.” Riki says firmly as he closes the large metal door before coming to lean against Jungwon's cold desk. 

“Jungwon pulls open one of the drawers. Pulling out a torn Polaroid photo. The color is faded, and it’s been taped together over and over again.” Her..that’s Sparks. At least that’s what I called her. 

Riki’s expression is soft as he takes the Polaroid in his hands. Gently holding it, careful not to break it any more than it already has been. “She looks young-“

“She was almost seventeen. It was junior year of high-school and damn..I don’t know if I was just young and horny or seriously in love with her. Never got enough time to figure it out.” Jungwon watches as Riki’s eyes scan over the Polaroid. 

“If you named this whole project after her, I think you have your answer, “ Riki says as he glances at Jungwon again. Watching how his brows furrow with thought.

“Even if I did love her, I never got to tell her. I still remember it all. The last day I saw her. We had snuck off to make out in my car.” He says with a painful chuckle.

“And the world just happened to turn to hell that day. She was brave, braver than I. She ran straight home to save her family. And I haven’t seen her since.” 

There’s an uncomfortable silence between the two before Riki speaks up with a whisper.

“Think she’s still alive?”

“She has to be…I know she is..” Jungwon says as he stands up from his chair. Bending down to pick up all the files and paperwork, he shuffles through them again before looking back towards Riki.

“I’m gonna find her, Riki..I'm not dying until I get a chance to kiss her again.” Jungwon states with a firm tone. 

And he means every word. 

note: Chapter 3 is finished! I hope you guys like the flashback and the little twist at the end. There's more to come soon. I'm currently editing Chapter 4, it's got some smut, so be prepared for things to get spicy :) I'd love to hear your thoughts! If you like the story so far, just leave a comment and I'll add you to the taglist! I promise there will be zombies soon!

Stay Safe!

xoxo kate <#

If you missed it:

{chapter two- 'safe house'}

{chapter four -'i know why you ran'}

taglist: @kyunlov @yazmike @loverbyfate

[hiscalliope]

It's scary that all the prosecution had to do was release a few snippets of his writings (not even new information we knew all of this already) and now everyone is 100% convinced that he's the shooter. I'm not saying it isn't him but the way some people suddenly did a complete 180 and are now saying everyone who believes in his innocence is delusional when most of them did the same until a day ago.

I mean that was their whole intention in leaking this, to poison the jury pool. No matter what my personal opinion is about his involvement, the public shouldn't be having access to "evidence" and why I used quotes is because the validity of it legally can't be determined until it makes it to the court room, and if it doesn't make it then there's a piece of information being instilled in the jury's mind that the court has deemed not reliable that shouldn't be known to the jury.

But a lot of people lack any kind of nuances in tackling situations and that's what we're seeing here.

But you're right this is dangerous for him especially because no one wants to afford him a fair trial, and people over reacting over things they already knew are playing right into the prosecutor's hands.

I don't think people who think he is innocent still are delusional even though I lean towards he probably did it. Doing all that name calling over writings of all things, which are usually thrown out as unreliable if they don't have a 3rd person apart from defence and LE claiming them as valid is simply foolish. I can see why people want more apart from things that would technically most probably still not make it to the actual trial even if the illegal search and seizure wasn't there.

you make several good points here than ive seen other people make as well. i think it was way too early for any member of the public (and the jury pool) to see any of this evidence. but now that is has been released, there's all these secondary questions that we have to ask ourselves. was this legally obtained? was this written to be a manifesto? or was it just notes/thoughts on a piece of paper?

note, it never said brian thompson's name and never referenced UHC (not to my knowledge, if im mistaken please correct me), so how is the prosecution going to prove that those notes pertained to that alleged crime

i agree that's futile to name call. everyone will have their epiphany about this case sooner or later. some people thought it was him all along, other like myself gradually began to think about it more and more

phrases like "fair trial", "alleged", "jury nullification", "illegally obtained evidence" still must be present when discussing luigi in a serious sense. that's something we can all agree on despite whatever opinions we might hold.

[yeonmuse]

CHROME HEARTS ──but I break them still

❪ CHROME HEARTS ❫ nishimura riki & fem!rea 8OO+ w.c ⋆♱✮ fluff/angst ༯ university au ꫂ ၴႅၴ synopsis──★˙nainais library !! @k-films

℘an᭪ : written, texts & social media threads included in this chapter, welcome to my new tag-list recipients thank you for joining us on this journey.

CHAPTER 5 | banana milk

It wasn’t like he had been watching your every move or anything; he was just curious as to what your plans had been today. He wondered if you’d be spending time with your friends much like yesterday or if you’d be staying behind after class just as you had done the day before. He sat in his seat at the back of the lecture room watching as you absentmindedly scribbled little doodles onto a blank page, the tic of the clock nearby taunting him as he sat completely unaware of how today would play out. Though he wasn’t left wondering long, as the class had finally been dismissed and he watched as you stood from your seat, walked over to him and placed a banana milk on his desk. Niki hadn’t said a word though he stood there blinking at you as if you’d been some sort of figment of his imagination, resulting in you standing there awkwardly.

“Um..you were drinking one in class yesterday so..as a thank you…” your words drift off, each word coming out more faint than the other as you stand there awkwardly, waiting for him to say something, anything that would make this interaction less agonizing.

“Thanks.’’ he responds, taking the milk into his hand and shoving his straw in. finally you release an anxious breath that you hadn’t even known you were holding in. It wasn’t like he made you nervous or anything, but for as long as you could remember it was always hard for you to interact with anyone that wasn’t your family. Even then when you were younger it had been difficult to make friends and for the longest time you remained alone– just you and your art until your friends had come along. The task of giving im the milk had been hard enough, but knowing that this was the same person that had asked you on a date just days prior to today, made things all the more stomach turning for you

After he’d finally acknowledged you, you were ready to turn around and walk away, to let him enjoy his banana milk and get to work, but then you suddenly felt the urge to ask him something before the moment passed and social anxiety weighed in.

“Can I ask you something?’’ you force out, turning on your heels to face him again. Then he was looking at you again, with that same waiting gaze that had pierced through you the day he’d ask you out and immediately your throat ran dry. This was like giving a presentation to an entire sea of people, yet it had only been one, one person whose gaze held the weight of thousands.

“Why did you buy them? The oil pastels…?’’ you finally ask and as if he didn’t have to think about it he answers.

“Your others broke right? I saw you get frustrated over it and they looked like you had them a long time.’’ for a moment you stood there, silent and unmoving as if you’d been trying to wrap your head around what he’d just said. He had been that observant? You had never even seen him in class until that day, the day he’d asked you out, yet he seemed to have observed you enough to pick up even the slightest of details. It made you realize how your friends and your brother had been entirely correct. You seemed to completely drown out the world around you and lose yourself in this room.

After that the room had fallen silent just like the day before. Not another word shared between the two of you, nor had neither of you looked at one another. The only differing factor was that you sat completely aware today, aware of his presence, fully aware that within this universe of yours you were no longer the only one sat there.

For as long as you could remember art had been your safe place, your way of coping when your life seemed to take the worst possible turns. To you a pen and a paper had been like a portal, a gateway to worlds and dimensions that even the human imagination couldn’t fathom. It was a world you’d always traveled to alone, a world only you held the key to so why was he of all people breaking through the surface and forming tension.

It was because he saw you, even with the way you lost yourself to your art, even with the way you seemed to pay no mind to others..even after turning him down he saw you. And while that scared you, for some reason you liked it, you liked that someone had paid attention enough to see the things you thought had gone unnoticed.

Niki couldn’t help but smile as he stared at the empty milk carton on his desk, his gaze drifting to you. You who seemed to be deep in thought, gaze tied to the empty sheet of paper that sat on your desk, completely untouched.

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[marina-mushroom]

TAKE ME TO WAR (completed)

“You’re pathetic, Viktor. Every fight is the same. You’ve never wanted to hurt me as badly as you want to straddle my lap.” Viktor snarled in outrage and pinned Jayce’s hands to the ground over his head. Jayce laughed. “And I’m just as bad ‘cause I keep letting you.” 

Viktor let go of Jayce’s wrists to backhand him across the cheek. “Jayce Talis, as arrogant as ever. I bet you think everyone wants you.” 

Jayce spat blood. “So you’re saying you don’t? Pleading innocent when there’s never been someone more guilty?” 

“And you think you know everything.” Viktor straightened, a dark smirk playing on his lips. “It will bring me such pleasure to inform you that you were right about one thing. I know, shocking for us both. Evolving did cost me a piece of my humanity, as you thought.” 

Jayce blanched, seeing the control he’d had of the conversation slipping through his fingers like sand through a sieve. “What?” 

Viktor leaned in close, relishing every word. “I couldn’t want you even if I tried.” He put his arms to the ground on either side of Jayce’s head. “That part of me is long gone.

“Okay,” Jayce said. “We’ll go with that. So why do you do it then? Why do you flirt with me, if it means nothing to you?” 

Viktor raised a defiant chin, upper lip twitching. “It’s to provoke you, obviously. And it has always worked. You make it incredibly easy.” 

“Right,” he continued, nodding slowly. “It’s all a little game for you. And if you were to win by making me want you, you could have the irresistible satisfaction of denying me. Right?” 

Viktor narrowed his eyes. “Exactly.”

“And for you, there is no risk. No stake in the game. Because you,” Jayce said, voice dropping and growing breathy, “are immune to my charm. Isn’t that right?” 

Viktor hesitated. “Correct,” he whispered.

“So, if I were to make my own play in this game you started,” Jayce said, running his hand up Viktor’s chest to cradle his neck, “something I’m sure you secretly hoped for, you would have no need to worry about giving in. Right?” Jayce moved his hand across and to the front of Viktor’s throat, pinning it gently between his fingers. Viktor’s breath caught and his eyelids fluttered. “Because there’s no truth in it for you. It’s just a game. That’s the lie you’re going with anyway. So, if I were to call you on your bluff,” he breathed, shifting his hand upward to clutch Viktor’s jaw, no longer gentle, “you still wouldn’t falter. Even if I dared you,” Jayce said huskily, slowly running his thumb over Viktor’s lips and wondering if he shoved it in his mouth if Viktor would suck it or bite it off, “you would have no problem resisting me. Is that right?” 

“You’re –” Viktor blinked rapidly, breathless. “You’re trying to provoke me.” 

Jayce finally let himself smirk. “And it’s working.” 

---

i recently completed my enemies to lovers/divorce era fic and wanted to share!! check it out if you like your jayvik batshit insane, obsessed, and each other's greatest enemy <3