#however . do machines have brains

[local-magpie]

"i like to packbond with everything" is um. a really fucking concerning statement to make when discussing AI, especially the question of if AI can reach sentience. that really should be the very first alarm bell you learn to watch for when you get into studying AI 😬

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Thinking about:

The two moments in ep 1 (6:08) and ep 2 (32:37) when Jihyun is seen in the background between Jaewon and Tae Hyung/Eun Ji respectively.

The way Jaewon's taller shadow engulfs Jihyun's smaller shadow as Jaewon walks towards Jihyun on the beach in ep 2.

Yoon Won singing on the beach.

Just how fantastic Yoon Won, Ae Ri, and Jihyun's boss are.

How it looks like Jaewon drew himself and his younger brother and maybe a young Jihyun in the landscape of the Han river in ep 4.

The way Jaewon tugs Jihyun into him after putting the rucksack on Jihyun in ep 4 (7:03).

The tale of the country mouse who ran back home (ep 4)...and me wondering if it's foreshadowing a separation and/or time skip in future eps.

Jihyun keeping Jaewon's art in case he becomes famous...and me wondering if that will come back if there's a time skip/separation at the end.

The fact that the therapist is always in the same top, which might indicate that the therapy scenes are all from the same session...maybe meaning everything else that's happening are flashbacks from the time of the session...which ends in ep 5. There are no scenes of the therapy session in ep 6.

The bust on the shelf in the therapists room, with hands over its eyes...

Jihyun's dream of going to the Hanson Tower with a lover and putting a lock up there...and me hoping he'll do that with Jaewon.

The "traffic won't stop for you" sign behind Jaewon as he gets drunk in ep 5 and talks about siblings. If it turns out his brother died because he ran into the road I will throw fists.

The way Jaewon's little brother is dressed in a light blue t-shirt with something cream over the top in the flashback and then Jihyun is also wearing light blue/grey under a cream jacket in the next scene.

Jaewon's "We are always living in other's frameworks in this world". And "Don't try to get out of the box".

The silence as the credits roll at the end of ep 6.

[onlineviolence]

angel face head canon take 2

weird heads. solid, but spiky like ferrofluid. very vaguely resemble the shapes of their helmets. “faces” are patches of ink-like liquid that float slightly off the head. like a Rorschach test, an angel’s face will look different to every person that sees it, but there is a “default”, for when they are alone / being seen by God.

not safe to be seen by non-divine beings - their brains just can’t decipher the patterns and might get scrambled :]

[publicuniversalenemy]

i have obtained a SIGNIFICANT and POTENTIALLY CARCINOGENIC BIOHAZARD and im BEYOND EXCITED ABOUT THIS

[devilishdelights]

THATS MY FUCKINNGGGG WIIIIIIIIIIFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE FUCK YOU LUCIFER YA FUCKIN DUNCE

[kazoo-world]

okay. i debated not posting this because I was worried I’d get death threats (that says a lot doesn’t it) but it needs to be said, because its upsetting me.

a woman who publicly says she feels very sane and has “never been to therapy” and who breaks up with her boyfriend in part because he can’t just “”get over”” his depression to love her the way she wants/needs does not.

I repeat, does not.

get to use the imagery she did in her fortnight video.

I’ve been seeing gifsets and screenshots all day of her chained to a bed but ~aesthetic~ and being fed a pill after a cheeky side eye and strapped to a glamourfied ECT machine and no one has said anything about it so I will. those images are genuinely triggering for me.

people have been restrained, forcefed pills, and given electroconvulsive therapy or subjected to the electric chair for severe mental illness against their will. these are not fun props anyone gets to throw around to express that they feel depressed or in a “manic phase” or like they were “raised in an asylum.”

she doesn’t know how a real asylum fried my grandmother’s brain or real cops restrained me because I was psychotic and manic. she doesn’t know what it feels like to be dehumanised that way.

do better. demand she do better, too.

edit: I say that this content is triggering to say that it causes real harm. I do still have a responsibility to myself to curate an internet experience for myself. this does not negate her responsibility to avoid replicating harmful tropes in art which is deeply influential. she does not get to co-opt institutionalization or psychiatric violence as a romanticized aesthetic or as a metaphor because real people like myself have suffered greatly under the things she is representing as glamorous or cool. institutionalization silences and violates mentally ill people in a way that marginalizes them, and that experience should be treated with sensitivity and care rather than being commodified to reduce stigma. if she had experienced these things, I might feel differently, but other ableist content on the record and her statements on her life and art indicate otherwise. she is a woman with immense privilege and power and should not be using that privilege and power to punch down on mental illness.

edit 2: I want you all to know I have seen your criticism. I will not edit the post but I do respect that she has had mental health struggles since that outdated quote. That is my mistake, I own that. My apologies.

However, mental health struggles =/ experience with psychiatric violence. Experiences of mental illness are heterogenous. Aestheticizing, romanticizing, and glamourizing mental hospitals is straight up gross regardless of your experience with mental illness. It’s tasteless and offensive.

I do understand metaphors. I think that her calling her life an asylum as a metaphor is in poor taste. I think her representing her relationship struggles with the imagery of a mental institution is insensitive given the impacts that real asylums and mental hospitals have had on my life and the lives of many others like me, so I had to say something about it.

It’s ableist to assume that critics of your fav “can’t read”, “don’t understand a metaphor” or “don’t have brains” when they clearly demonstrate that they are thinking critically. Do better.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Throwback

Male Triceratops Hybrid Alpha Yandere x Gender Neutral Capybara Hybrid Omega Reader

CW: Noncon, painful to pleasureable sex, mild violence (not towards reader), time travel, sexism, breeding, impregnation, pheromones, a/b/o, musk, scent marking, scent kink, sucking on dem big man titters, biting, bite marking, claiming, exceptionally huge dick, reader inflated with copious cum, knotting

Word Count: 1.9k

(Sometimes I get stuck on WIPs and have to do something new to write again. I wrote this in two days. Hope y'all like it! Please feed me with comments ❤️)

You were an omega demi-human. Part capybara, though the only evidence of this was your soft ears. More importantly, you were a quantum physicist. Currently, you were studying and recreating what you thought to be a time travel device. Your thoughts and theories had been dismissed entirely by your peers. It didn't help at all that you were an omega. Omegas working in academia were almost universally harassed, derided, and treated with condescension. As if their omega brains couldn't work at the same level as betas and alphas.

But even if it wasn't some type of device for traveling through time it was certainly alien to the time period from which it originated. It was made of advanced alloys and components that had been flattened, buried, and heavily corroded over time. The rock in which it was embedded in was older than any ancient society.

You had been working on manufacturing a functional copy of the artifact for years. Shmoozing up eccentric rich fucks, getting help from the exceedingly few colleagues who would help you in any way, slowly analyzing every detail and carefully bringing it all together. And at long last it was complete. The zenith of your career was at hand. And after some cautious testing that you conducted privately, it was ready to show to others.

You managed to get a spot at a small conference, though you had lied about the subject on which you would be speaking, and by the time it was your turn most of the audience had left. Not many academics cared what an omega had to say. Let alone one with a reputation for being a crackpot. But there were still enough of your fellow scientists and this would all be on video.

Instead of introducing the topic of your presentation, which would be a surefire way to lose what people were still watching, you opted for wheeling out your machine onto the stage and stepping in. With a deep breath, you booted it up and the entire contraption disappeared with a flash.

When you exited the machine there was an immediate problem. You stepped out of the machine into a forest with giant trees and flowers. You had only intended to go back a minute to when your presentation started but had made an error. You turned around to step back in but something pulled you backwards by your rear. You fell back and saw before you a humongous man charging at your time machine. He wore only a ragged fur loincloth and swung a massive club. He looked human except for his size, thick tail, scaled arms, and three horns on his head. One large horn from each temple and a small one extending from my nose.

You looked on in horror as he swung a mighty club down upon your only way back to your own time, repeatedly smashing it down until it resembled the exact shape of the artifact that had been excavated in your time. The relic that you had fashioned your own machine after. That wasn't what your attention was on, however. You were much more focused on getting away from the raging beast of a man who could flatten metal so easily.

Though with his task of destroying the frightening affront to nature that had appeared from nowhere now complete, he turned his attention to you. He shouted at you in a language you didn't understand, though his intent was clear. He had a massive erection sticking out from his loincloth and aggressively sniffing at your neck after picking you up with unexpected care.

With exertion of great willpower, the trike-man managed to not breed you silly right there in the forest. Your pheromones were driving him nearly feral. Modern-day omega pheromones were many times more potent than any prehistoric omega. They had evolved through millennia to pique the interest of choosy alphas despite the steep competition, an evolutionary arms race to try to snag an alpha.

That wasn't the only appealing trait. You were exotic, had cute little furry ears on your head, and you were so small, couldn't fight back and act all defiant like the omegas from his time.

You did struggle though. You had seen his arousal and could still smell it. Almost anything would be better than being violated in such a manner by such a hulking brute. He chuckled at your struggles, they were successful only in tiring you out. On the long way to his lair, between your squirming, kicking, and punching, you had gathered that his name was Orryg. At least you thought it was. He did not speak English, but he gestured at himself and seemed to be trying to give you his name.

He found your struggles kinda cute, mistaking them for an eagerness to escape his grasp and get on with taking his cock already. Omegas were so silly.

"Don't worry. Going to breed you plenty. Better in a secluded place."

You had no idea what he said, but his voice was deep and sounded angry so you could only assume it was something in annoyance at your struggles so you went limp. The giant man could snap you like a twig if he wanted to, best not to make him too upset. And honestly, even if you did escape, where the fuck would you go? What if Orryg wasn't the worst thing prowling about in the time period?

The walk went on for a while, with Orryg giving you an occasional lick or mumbling out some words you didn't have any hope of understanding. After a fair amount of time, Orryg stopped to sniff the air. Suddenly there was a roar from behind.

Orryg turned the two of you around just in time for him to take his club and smack it into a man who was every bit as huge as he was. Swatting him away easily despite being similar in size and build.

This one had sharp teeth and clawed fingers. He spat blood and growled. Orryg regarded him with a scowl.

"Udvik! You know this is trike territory!!"

"Omega smells good, not claimed yet. Thought I'd try..."

"Go before I smash you! This is MINE!"

Udvik spat again and hobbled off. But your suspicions had been confirmed, there were definitely things other than Orryg to be worried about in this time period. You were pretty shaken up seeing a half-dino man jumping at you and watching your captor fight him off. With those teeth it had clearly been no herbivore, it probably would have slaughtered you. Your fear must have been evident in your scent because Orryg held you tighter and nuzzled you.

"That battle got my blood flowing, really need to fuck you. Sorry if it scared you, I'll breed you all better. Almost home."

You continued to have zero idea what the hell he was saying. But you figured with the nuzzling it was something comforting. Though your ability to figure anything out was pretty absent by this point. Your brain was soup. All the anxiety and adrenaline and alpha pheromones had finally gotten to you. You looked at the ground in a stupor as he continued to carry you over his shoulder.

The next thing you were consciously aware of was him entering the cave with you and placing his club at the entrance. He laid down on a slab of stone covered in thick layers of soft furs and placed you on top of his muscled body. Before you had any chance to react he began administering attention to your sensitive neck. You squirmed involuntarily, writhing in pleasure on top of him from the neck stimulation alone.

If that wasn't enough, you were practically drowning in his musk. You had been since you entered his dwelling, the cave was saturated in it, but now he was forcing your head under his arm and making you drink it all in. Smearing your face with it and marking you with his smell. Slick was leaking out of your needy hole and pooling on his abs.

"I knew this would make you feel better."

The trance you were in was only partially broken once you felt the blunt head of his much too-large member press against your hole.

"W-wait! I don-"

But he had no idea what you were saying, and even if he did he knew you'd love his dick so much that you wouldn't protest for long. At this point, you were going to be his... no matter what.

You yelped in pain as he pressed into you, spreading you like none of your toys ever had. He swallowed your shout by pressing his mouth into yours, trying to distract you from the pain with a sloppy kiss before attending to your neck again. Despite every instinct telling him to just ram in and ravage you he restrained himself knowing that doing otherwise could seriously injure you.

"Ah!"

Even with his care it still hurt as he slowly eased his prick all the way into you, he rubbed the outline of his cock through your tummy. Lucky for you omegas were extremely stretchy and pliant.

Orryg slowly thrust back and forth inside you as he hungrily took in your scent. As more precum dribbled into you and mixed with your slick you took him easier and the pain slowly began to ebb away and was eventually replaced almost entirely by pleasure. You moaned softly into his chest as you bit at his pec and sucked his nipple while he kept digging his cock into you.

Your whole body shook and spasmed for a solid minute as you came more intensely than you ever had before. Orryg grunted as the feeling of your body convulsing around him brought him nearly to his climax. The trike man upped the pace just a bit, his heavy balls smacking into you before he started knotting inside you and pumping you full of his virile spunk. One small mercy was that his knot was only a bit thicker than the rest of his cock, not over two times as wide like a modern alpha.

The volume of semen was such that it made you look heavy with child, which you certainly would be after lovemaking like this.

Now that you had been well and truly fucked there was only one thing left for your brand new "husband" to do to really seal the deal. He, with great caution, buried his fangs into your neck to mark you permanently as his to everyone who might see you. Which would be more than you might expect. This was Orryg's outpost, he stayed there while on patrol, but he usually lived with his herd.

It would be a hard adjustment for you to make. You would constantly be under Orryg's watchful gaze or the guard of his tribemates when he went to go hunt or if he went to do things too dangerous for you to be with him. You'd never be alone. Even in the safety of the herd, Orryg would obsessively treat you like something fragile. You would have to adjust your diet to what they ate, mostly fruit and vegetables though they ate meat too, though nothing was familiar to you. You would have to slowly learn their language so you could eventually communicate with the new society that "adopted" you.

But it was okay if it took you a while to get settled, you had all the time in the world.

[pasukiyo]

DAYDREAM

college baseball player!leon kennedy x f!reader word count; 2,675 warnings; oral (f receiving), this one really just gets right to the point tbh lol, leon's kind of an fboy summary; just get your notes back from leon. it's not going to be difficult, right? all you have to do is walk in, don't get distracted by how ridiculously sexy he looks swinging a bat, ask for them back, and leave!

 She tightens the grip she has on the strap of her bag as she pushes open the door to the batting cages and immediately, the sound of a metal bat against a baseball echoes and rattles her brain. She winces but presses forward, willing herself to breathe as she walks down past empty cages until she finally finds the one Leon Kennedy is in. He doesn’t see her, for he’s in his batting stance, completely focused on the self-serving pitching machine before him.  

 He’s in a dark-colored, short-sleeved muscle tee and gray athletic sweatpants, and although she’s not one to stare, she can see beads of sweat drip down the bulging muscles of his biceps, even from where she stands. She cannot see his face, as his back is turned to her, but she can imagine his lips as they press together, his dark brows knit together in concentration. Her skin begins to burn and the pitching machine releases a ball and she watches as he hits it with ease, sending it hurling towards the back net of the cage. 

 She’s suddenly frozen in her place, unable to tear her eyes away from him as he uses his hand, covered in a batting glove, to wipe sweat from his forehead, swinging his bat in a circular motion to get back into position for the next pitch. She stares at him like she’s in some sort of trance and all she can think about is how big his arms are, how strong he is and how she’d love for him to use that strength on her…

 She tries to shake the thoughts away herself, but it is the sound of Leon Kennedy’s voice that breaks her from her trance altogether. 

 “Oh, you’re here.”

 She flinches and color warms her cheeks as she realizes he’s looking at her now as he exits the cage, undoing the Velcro of his batting gloves and tossing them on the bench. She’s unsure what to do with herself and she tries to avoid meeting his gaze, shifting uncomfortably where she stands. 

 “Yeah, I’m… I’m, um, here for the… for the—“

 “The notes?”

 “Mhmm,” she hums, nodding and god, she wishes the universe would just mistake her for a corpse and claim her into temporary unconsciousness. She wrings the strap of her bag and steals a swift glance towards Leon as he eyes her from over the rim of his water bottle, the corner of his lips curled up in a smirk. She looks away again as he sets his water down, digging through his backpack. 

 “Thanks for letting me borrow them,” he says as he finally fishes them out, outstretching them towards her. She can see her notebook dangling from Leon’s hand just from the top of her vision and she dips her chin, taking a cautious step forward. 

 “I hope they helped,” she says, reaching forward to grab her notes. Before she can reach them, however, he pulls away, the grin on his lips widening. She blinks up at him, feeling smaller than she felt before and embarrassed, unsure how to take up space. She decides to clasp a hand around her wrist, uncertain what she should say.

 “Yeah, you know…” he begins, dropping the notebook to rest in the crook of his arm, peeling open the cover and flipping through pages. “…I really appreciated all the little doodles and stuff in the margins.”

 There’s a moment where everything seems to freeze and all she can hear is her heartbeat drumming in her ears and all she can feel is the sweat collecting at her hairline as it begins to fall down the sides of her face. Realization comes in the form of blood biting her cheeks and when Leon sees the moment she realizes, he tries his hardest to stifle his laugh, pressing his lips together. 

 And god, all she can think about is either melting into a pile of sludge at their feet and crawling away like a snail or screaming ‘fuck it’ while pulling his lips into her because it’s just not fair when he looks like that. Instead, she tries reaching for the notebook again, alas, her efforts are in vain. 

 Her hands fall to her sides and she huffs, again, trying to look anywhere but at him. “Can you give it back?” She asks quietly, surprised she was even able to speak at all. She dares a glance up at him to find he’s already peeking up at her, a mischievous gleam in that dark ocean in his eyes that she isn’t sure whether to drop to her knees or slap him in the face for. 

 “What? It’s cute,” he snickers, flipping the notebook over, and pointing his finger to the corner of one of the pages. “I especially like the little heart you drew at the end of my name here.”

 She blinks and nearly whimpers in mortification as she once again tries to snatch the notebook from his hand, but he raises his arm, using his other to draw her in closer by the small of her back. She yelps when her chest meets his and suddenly, they’re close, too close. She can feel his breath loom over her face like rolling smoke and his stare bears down on her body, making her stomach twist into knots. 

 She’s all too aware of his hand pressing against her back, of his body against hers, of her heartbeat thudding against his chest. She’s so close that it would feel awkward for their eyes not to meet but oh, how she wishes she couldn’t at this moment. 

All she saw now in his eyes was the embodiment of a bad idea, all she could see was desire and temptation and trouble. And she was a good girl, she always played by the rules, never got into any fights, or trouble with anyone. But she looks up at Leon now and wonders if she could go on just daydreaming about him any longer. She wonders what it would be like to try him out, to feel him closer than he is now, to taste him and be tasted by him. 

 Leon’s eyes flicker to her lips, and his mouth twitches. He already has her hooked, and he’s hardly touched her, much less even spoken to her. It gives him the confidence he needs to say, “you’ll need to work a little harder if you want this back.”

 Suddenly, the notebook doesn’t seem all that important to her anymore. Her gaze fleets to his lips and she hesitates, glancing back up at him. Leon’s patience runs on a very thin line, and the frayed edges of its rope are at its end so when it snaps, he pounces. 

 He lets go of the notebook and it falls to the floor with a loud smack and both of his arms are around her now, drawing her into him. Their lips meet and it’s something she’s only ever dreamed about, and it’s new and exhilarating and all she can think about is how she wants more. 

 She whimpers against his mouth as his tongue swirls against hers and his lips are a crescent against hers, one of his hands bracing itself on the side of her neck. He draws her in nearer as the other roams down the side of her body, down past the curve of her hip, to the waistband of her jeans. She can feel the sweat on his chest through his shirt and her hands brace themselves on his forearms, her palms slick with his perspiration. 

 The pads of his fingers circle her waist, tracing the line of her jeans, stopping when they reach the button. She mewls against his lips and pulls away from him, chasing air into her lungs. Leon dips his chin to find her gaze and when she allows him to, his pink, kiss-swollen lips curve. 

 “We don’t have to keep going,” He says breathlessly, and there’s something so attractive about the way he says it, with his chest heaving up and down, his voice thick and deep enough to jellify her knees. It’s hard to make sense of anything when her head swirls like a violent tempest, but what’s for certain is there’s a spark igniting between her legs, and only Leon Kennedy could be the one to quell it. “Do you want to stop?”

 Her lips buzz with the phantom of his kiss and all she can do is shake her head, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck to draw him back in. Their lips clash together like two waves in a storm and Leon’s hands are back on her hips, fumbling with the button of her jeans as his kisses trail down her face to her jaw, then to her neck. 

 She’s burning, and Leon’s like coal, stoking her flame. He’s unzipping her jeans as he backs her up towards the bench, taking her skin between his lips and sucking dark bruises into the crook of her neck. Her lips fall agape as he lets go of her flesh, pushing her down onto the bench and she kicks out of her jeans as he drops to his knees before her. 

 She can make out the outline of his abdomen through his muscle tee and she’s utterly bewitched as she watches him part her thighs, eyeing her through hooded lids. She tries to breathe although it’s hard when he’s peeling her open and exposing her in such a way, she has to fight the urge to close her legs, to shy away. It’s not he would’ve let her anyways— not when he was practically drooling at the sight before him, the pad of his thumb teasing just above her clit. 

 “Seems like this is long overdue,” he teases and she jumps when his thumb finally finds her clit, rubbing slow, tight circles on the bud. She whimpers and her toes curl, hands finding purchase on whatever she could get them on. She grasps onto the material of his baseball bag, fisting the material as he breathes a laugh. She presses her lips together and furrows her brow down at him. “Look how messy you’re getting for me already,” he titters. 

 A foreign sound leaves her throat— frustration and pleasure intertwined— as he strokes a forefinger up and down her slit agonizingly slow. She cants her hips into his hand, yearning for more and he uses his free hand to grab her waist, holding her in place. 

 “Leon,” she whines and he groans, pressing his thumb down harder against her aching clit. “God, that voice,” he mumbles, leaning in closer to her heat, his breath so close now, it sent shivers slithering down her spine. Her chest heaves up and down as he turns his head, eyes never leaving hers as he presses kisses to the inside of her thighs. 

 He enjoys this, she thinks. He enjoys teasing her, taunting her, watching the way she squirms and mewls as he does everything except what she wants him to. She would kick him in the face if it wouldn’t stop him from putting it between her legs. 

 “Please,” she whines, frustration setting her skin ablaze. He raises an eyebrow, his mouth but a whisper away from where she needs him. “I guess since you asked so nicely…” he smirks before he dives in and she’s suddenly electric. 

 His lips are like a bolt of lightning and she’s suddenly so alive, like she’s never been before. Her vision blurs and it’s like she’s falling when he flicks his tongue up against the underside of her clit. Her hand instinctively finds his hair, her back arching up from the back of the bench as she guides him in closer, deeper. 

 He hums against her and pulls away for the smallest of moments, lips glistening and agape as he pants. “So fucking good,” he murmurs and she watches through watercolor vision as he delves himself back in. A lewd, wet squelch sounds when he dips his tongue into her hole and she’s on fire, living in an oasis for all things she could only dream about in her wildest of fantasies. 

 Leon’s a man starved. 

 His eyes are a dark pool of lust that spill into hers as he stares at her from between her legs, his nose practically buried in her pussy. His tongue burrows deep in her sopping heat and he circles the muscle inside of her, groaning against her when her eyes roll, the grip she has on his dark blonde locks tightening. Her stomach twists in knots and with each stroke of his tongue, she comes deliciously close to snapping, to coming undone. 

 “Leon, fuck—! Fuck, I’m…” she mewls, unable to finish speaking through sharp breaths. He licks a stripe up from hole to clit, again and again, and she’s seeing stars. She brings his face closer, trying to reach that end she so desperately craves. 

 Leon simply relishes it all. 

 He doesn’t make attempts to speak, the stormy sea in his irises swallowed by an oblivion in the middle, his mouth hot as it circles and suckles on her clit. She’s seeing white now and the knot in her belly is shaking along with the rest of her body, her knees bent and squeezing around his head. He groans again against her cunt and as if the vibration was the extra push she needed, she unravels like a ball of yarn. 

 Leon’s mouth is still on her, guiding her through her orgasm. He circles his tongue down to her hole, lapping up every drop he can taste, making sure not even a pinch goes to waste. Her vision blurs and she feels the burning of tears on her cheeks as she drops her head backwards, staring towards the glaring white light on the ceiling. 

 Finally, Leon pulls away and he pulls himself up just enough that he can plop down on the space of the bench beside her. The shape of his head eclipses the light on the ceiling and he leans down, pressing his lips to hers. She’s exhausted but she still reciprocates, her tongue lazily waltzing around his. Her cum mixes with his saliva and she hums, scarlet shame searing her cheeks. She pulls away and Leon cups her cheek to keep her head in place, the pad of his thumb soothing over her skin. 

 “You don’t have to be so shy,” he murmurs, grinning as he playfully bops her forehead with his. Her breath releases as more of a laugh and she glances down to his chest, the way it rises up and down to the rhythm of his breath. Her fingers itch to touch him, and perhaps she would, if it hadn’t been for the sound of the door opening. 

 “Kennedy! Didn’t expect you to be—“

 She’s a statue, and she’s thankful for how quickly Leon moves to stand in front of her, kicking her jeans and underwear back towards her. Mortification seeps through to her bones and she’s suddenly moving on autopilot, bending to grab her bottoms and slip them on. 

 “Carlos! Wasn’t expecting you to be here either,” she can hear Leon say as she tugs her panties and jeans up her legs, trying to fit them over her hips without having to stand up. 

Whatever Carlos says next is completely unknown to her, for she’s rising from the bench, scrambling to snatch her bag and notebook off the ground. She’s fully prepared to book it for the door, if it hadn’t been for a hand around her wrist, spinning her around, and drawing her in closer. Leon Kennedy’s mouth is on hers for the briefest of moments and it curls into a grin as he finally releases her. Her cheeks burn and she pivots around on her heel, unable to meet Carlos Oliveira’s eye as she sprints for the exit— albeit with some effort, for her knees still feel like jelly and Leon’s goodbye-kiss rekindles a flame at her center. 

a/n; again, not my best work! kinda just easing back into writing again tbh, but hope you still enjoy! i played softball pretty much my entire childhood all the way up to my senior year of high school so i get into this headspace every once in awhile where i just imagine all my fave fictional men as baseball players lol so here is a product of that fantasy!

💿 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply! 🫶

TAGLIST

@bxbyyyjocelyn

@chaoticevilbakugo

@luckypurins

@corruptcoder

@glovesandhorror

@angelstargel

@illsksm

@echo1200

@d3adp00ls

@woahhajime

@leonkennedygvrl

@elliewilliamshotwife

@altissia-09

[luimnigh]

So I stumbled onto an interesting Wikipedia page today.

In the aftermath of 9/11, iHeartRadio (then Clear Channel Communications), circulated a list among it's radio stations of songs they were advised against playing.

And a lot of these do make sense. Songs about airplanes, explosions, violence, falling... yeah, no, I get that stuff. Completely understandable to avoid them.

However, there's also plenty of stuff on the list that's questionable.

For some, I just have no idea what the connection is. Green Day's Brain Stew (a song about insomnia), Metallica's Enter Sandman, The Hollies' He Ain't Heavy He's My Brother, Alanis Morrisette's Ironic... All of those seem like they shouldn't have anything objectionable.

There also seemed to be a ban on mentioning New York? Like, okay, AC/DC's Safe In New York City would be in poor taste, but Frank Sinatra's New York, New York is practically the city's anthem. Feels weird to ban that.

But there's also some stuff that, looking back, is absolutely a political choice.

To begin with, they banned the entire discography of Rage Against The Machine. Which, yeah, that's a choice.

They also banned The Bangles' Walk Like An Egyptian, and The Clash's Rock The Casbah, which appear to have been excluded purely based on their references to the Middle East. The banning of Neil Diamond's America (a pro-immigration song) also feels incredibly suspect.

But the reason I ended up on this Wikipedia page in the first place is that I was looking up a song, and it's page mentioned it was one of the banned songs:

War, by Edwin Starr.

You know the one:

War! Hoo! Yeah!

What is it good for?

Absolutely nothing!

Telling stations not to play one of the most famous anti-war songs at a time where America's leadership, and a large chunk of the American populace, was chomping at the bit to illegally invade multiple countries and destabilise the entire region based on flimsy evidence?

Absolutely a politically motivated choice. And an act of moral cowardice.

[wheeboo]

love surge | kwon soonyoung

SYNOPSIS. in which soonyoung experiences a love surge whenever he's with you. PAIRING. kwon soonyoung x gn!reader (ft. a mention of wonwoo, latte, and small cameo of nct's doyoung) GENRE. fluff, friends to lovers, established relationship WARNINGS. reader wears a dress to prom, someone give soonyoung a medal for having a crush on reader for a whole ass three years, bro is WHIPPED™️, mild language, one suggestive scene, terms of endearment, kissing WORD COUNT. 4.8k

notes: u guys know how he vibrates whenever he's excited?? heh,,

The first time Kwon Soonyoung experienced a love surge was when he was fourteen years old.

He didn't know what to make of it at the time. Usually it would be a reaction to something cute or exciting𑁋like one of the many occurrences the neighbourhood kittens would stroll along the sidewalk on his way home from school, or the time he won a tiger plushie from the claw machine at the arcade.

It's as if his body would experience this sudden burst of energy, an uncontrollable fluttering that made him feel like he could run a marathon or jump to the moon, and he'd be left grinning ear to ear.

But this time, it wasn't a kitten or a plushie.

No, it was a person.

A new school year meant new people. New classmates, new faces, and new things to get used to. Soonyoung had never really thought much about it𑁋he was the kind of kid who could make friends easily, who moved through life with an easy smile and a boundless energy that drew people to him. Though he did have his own worries and anxieties about being a fresh new fish in high school, he was quite excited for what the future held for him now.

However, it had been exactly six minutes after class started that the door opened one last, final time.

The face he sees emerges into the room is one full of panic and a hint of embarrassment. Soonyoung catches your apprehensive eyes as you gaze around the room, searching for an empty seat, briefly landing on his eyes and the barren seat that was just conveniently the only one left in the room.

A small mutter of indecipherable apologies leaves your mouth towards the teacher as you slip your way throughout the classroom, feeling nearly everyone's eyes on you while nearly stumbling over other student's backpacks on the floor. The second you land at the empty spot right next to him, Soonyoung's breath catches in his throat.

It's almost as if his brain is struggling to register your presence right next to him, watching the way you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before fumbling for something inside your backpack.

Then your eyes furrow together defeatedly, and nothing could prepare Soonyoung when you turn towards him.

"Um..." You mumble quietly, letting out an embarrassed chuckle. "Hi, uh... do you happen to have an extra pencil with you?"

Soonyoung blinks, realising you were talking to him. "Pencil? Oh, yeah..." He reaches for his pencil bag, fishing out the first one he grabs ahold of and offers it over to you. "Here you go."

"Thanks so much," You say with relief, accepting the pencil with a cute, shy smile. Your fingers briefly touch, and the glance you both exchange afterwards seems to fill with a soft, awkward charm. "I'll make sure to bring it to you back after class, uh..."

Soonyoung brightens up. "Soonyoung!" Then he lowers his voice from how loud he seemed. "It's... Kwon Soonyoung."

"Kwon Soonyoung." The curl to your lips tug slightly more upward, and Soonyoung's heart does a little jump at the sight. "I'm Y/N."

Y/N, he repeats in his head.

His palms suddenly feel warm, and he has to ball his hands into fists at his side to stop his hands and legs from shaking and the jolt of excitement that ripples through his body. He can feel his heart thumping forcefully against his ribcage, like a thousand tiny fireworks going off all at once in his chest, and he can't tell whether it's from nervousness or pure exhilaration. Maybe both, at this point.

As class passes by, he notices the way you mindlessly doodle with the pencil he gave you, and for some reason, it makes him absurdly happy. He wonders if you'll return the pencil after class, and part of him hopes you don't. That way, he'll have an excuse to talk to you again.

Honestly, he might literally burst from the grin spreading across his face. It's a surge unlike any other one he's had before. And it's not from a game or a cute animal𑁋it's from you.

By the time class ends, you do seem to forget to give Soonyoung his pencil back, and you drift through the class too quickly that he isn't able to catch up with you before you're out the door. His shoulders slump as he fails to catch any sight of you in the crowded hallways.

Though as he shakes off the disappointment on the way to his next class, he feels that surge again. It brings a skip to his step that nearly makes him trip on his shoelace; a hopeful flutter to his heart; a smile to his face that refuses to fade for the rest of the day.

Fourteen-year-old Kwon Soonyoung doesn't really understand what having a crush is like or what love really is yet, but he knows this: whatever that feeling was, he hopes it happens again.

Seventeen-year-old Kwon Soonyoung tied his own tie for the very first time.

It took him approximately nine tries to finally perfect it. His hair is slicked back, and he's wearing the crispest shirt he owns, freshly ironed by his mother just an hour prior. Adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves, Soonyoung smooths over his suit one last time before turning around and taking the longest, deepest breath known to mankind.

Prom is supposed to be a night of fun, celebrating the end of high school and the journey he's about to embark on in life. He's quite excited on where life and time is about to take him, to be honest. But he tries not to think too much about that right now𑁋today is about today only.

Soonyoung finds himself squished in the backseat of Wonwoo's car with his friends, all chatting enthusiastically about the night ahead as they head to the venue. Music pumps loudly through the car's speakers, vibrating through the cramped space, and he's sure as hell that other cars could hear just the amount of excitement that was pouring out from the vehicle and into the cool, night air. But he doesn't care, nor do his friends.

The venue for prom is romantically lit and decorated, with fairy lights lining the entrance inside. Other students mingle, all dressed in their finest attire, posing for photos together with friends or with dates. Soonyoung and his friends spill out of the car, laughter and chatter flowing freely. After taking a few group photos outside, they finally head into the venue.

The night is filled with camaraderie as it progresses. Soonyoung lets himself lose on the dance floor as he spins and laughs with his friends and other students alike. His heart pounds to the beat of the music, the pulsating lights making everything feel surreal. At one point though, he drifts away from the group decides to take a break and grab a drink from the refreshment table.

Cold water cools down his throat as he glances around the venue, taking in the sight of everyone enjoying themselves. For a moment, Soonyoung leans against the refreshment table, savouring the moment, eyes searching around for something he wasn't entirely sure of𑁋until his gaze locks onto you.

You're standing near the edge of the dance floor. The dress that you wear shimmers softly under the lights. You look so effortlessly beautiful, like a scene out of a dream, and all the words he could ever think of scatter in his mind.

He hadn't forgotten about you, not in the slightest. Over the years, you'd become pretty good friends he would say, sharing a few mutual classes, bumping into each other in the hallway, exchanging quiet, lighthearted conversations and laughter whenever the teacher was lecturing and occasional banter. But Soonyoung realises he had never done exactly anything about the small, tiny crush he developed for you over time as he was dumbly scared to admit it.

And the feelings resurface all from a singular glance in your direction.

However, something else he catches is the way you appear seemingly torn between glancing down at your phone and back towards the sea of people passing by you in all sort of directions. You don't look... happy; if anything, you seem a bit lost, maybe even a little overwhelmed.

Soonyoung hesitates for a moment, contemplating whether to approach you or not. But then he decides to suck it up, and without anymore thought, he pushes himself away from the refreshment table and trails over to you, sliding his way past clusters of people, dodging swinging arms and spinning bodies until he finally reaches you.

You don't notice him at first, your attention still flitting nervously between your phone and the crowd, but Soonyoung clears his throat softly.

"Y/N?" he calls out to you, voice coming out a bit cracked.

You jump slightly, startled by the sudden voice cutting through your thoughts as you turn around. When your eyes meet his, Soonyoung watches your shoulders visibly relax.

"Soonyoung?" Then your gaze roams over him, taking him in with a small smile. "Wow, I almost didn't recognise you. You look great."

Soonyoung forces out a quiet chuckle, feeling warmth creep up his body, bashful hands coming to scratch the back of his neck.

"Thanks," he mutters, eyes trailing down towards the ground. "And you look... really beautiful tonight too."

You peer down at yourself, feeling the smile on your face widen ever so slightly at his words. "Thank you, Soonyoung."

A brief pause comes between you two as you both search for something to say. Once again, he watches you glance between your phone, to the crowd, and back to him again. There's some sort of apprehension in your eyes, and his brows furrow in concern.

"Are you okay?" Soonyoung asks, almost too quiet he isn't sure if you heard him at first.

You seem to hesitate for a moment before offering a small, forced smile. "Yeah, I just..." Then you purse your lips together. "You don't happen to have seen Minhyun around here, right?"

Minhyun? "Minhyun?" Soonyoung racks his brain for a moment, searching for that particular name through his crowded mind. "As in Minhyun from... the basketball team?"

"Yeah, him," You respond with a nod. "He's... my date for tonight, but uh... I think he ditched me. He was with me earlier and said he'd be right back. I've been looking for him for twenty minutes and he's not responding to any of my texts."

It's almost as if a hand reached its way into Soonyoung's chest, giving his heart a tight, worried squeeze, as well as a bit of frustration coursing through him. How could someone ever ditch their own date for prom? Let alone, out of all people, ditch you?

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he says, before his face brightens with determination. "Do you want me to help you look for him? I could ask around."

Immediately, you shake your head. "No, that's okay, Soonyoung. I appreciate it, though."

"Are you sure?" he urges gently. "I could... keep you company while you wait for him, maybe? Or we𑁋"

"Soonyoung," You cut his words off with a soft, tired chuckle, yet with a hint of firmness. "You don't have to do that. I don't want to ruin your night."

Soonyoung opens his mouth to protest, but the look in your eyes stops him. Still, his heart clenches at the thought of you standing here all alone, waiting for someone who might not even come back.

"I'll just head outside and wait for him," You tell him. "You go ahead and enjoy the night, okay?"

Before he could say anything more, you're brushing past him and heading towards the exit. Soonyoung watches you as you disappear through the crowd, the sparkle of your dress fading into the shadows of the venue's door. His chest tightens as a wave of disappointment washes over him, and for a moment, he just stands there, conflicted. Part of him wants to let you be, respect your decision, and go back to his friends. But the other part of him𑁋the one that's been harbouring this quiet, persistent crush for years𑁋won't let him just walk away.

However, as he attempts to take a step in your direction, a hand lands at his shoulder.

"Soonyoung! Come on, they're about to play the Cupid Shuffle," Doyoung exclaims, pulling him towards the dance floor with excitement.

For one last time, Soonyoung glances over his shoulder and towards the doors you just left. However, Doyoung continues dragging him by the ear towards the dance floor and where the rest of his friends are, already getting in position to start dancing. The familiar rhythm of the Cupid Shuffle takes over the room, and for a few minutes, Soonyoung lets the music take over. He joins in with the laughter and energy, moving in sync with his friends and the rest of the crowd.

Yet it's hard to shake off the lingering worry even while dancing, this ache to his limbs that causes his lively moments to be more subdued. Each second that passes, this pang of guilt hits him even harder.

He doesn't want to see you like that𑁋alone, waiting for someone who doesn't deserve you.

Soonyoung clenches his fists and makes a decision.

Suddenly, as if on autopilot, he finds himself drifting away from the dance floor and his friends and towards the exit of the venue. The night had gotten a little more cooler, hitting him square in the face the second he steps out. But he fixes his attention on finding you.

It doesn't him take long. He catches the familiar sparkle and colour of your dress, seeing you perched on a lone stone bench away from everybody else.

Your phone sits idly right next to you, gaze lost ahead on the packed parking lot.

"Y/N?"

You whisk your head around, catching Soonyoung slowly making his way towards you.

"Soonyoung? What are you..." You swiftly smooth out your dress with your hands. "I told you that I'll be fine."

"Well, I was never really good at following directions anyway..." He pauses when he comes in front of you. "Um... can I sit next to you?"

You give him a small nod.

Soonyoung casually places himself next to you on the bench, feeling the chill of the evening air but more focused on the warmth of being beside you. He glances at you, noticing the faint traces of concern still etched on your face.

"He didn't come, did he?"

You smile faintly at that, before it falters immediately. "No."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," You assure him. "Honestly, in a way, I was kind of hoping he wouldn't."

Soonyoung's eyes widen in surprise at that. "Really?"

"Mhm." You fiddle nervously with the bracelet around your wrist. "My friends set me up with him, even though I didn't exactly want to go to prom in the first place. But I just felt... obligated to, you know? Then I spent about two hundred dollars on a dress I'll only wear for one day in my life. But when Minhyun didn't show up, it was almost relieving, I guess. It just felt like one less thing I had to pretend to enjoy."

There's a brief pause as Soonyoung takes in your words and the way the moonlight reflects off your dress, the way your hair is perfectly styled and the incoming breeze that tousles it just a bit.

"If it makes you feel any better," Soonyoung starts, scooting a bit closer to you. "I... still think you look really pretty."

For a moment, you blink at his words, before the giggle you let out afterwards appears more natural, light-hearted, and genuine than all of the fake smiles you've plastered on throughout the night. Soonyoung can't help but let out a few soft, somewhat awkward laughs himself, a wave of accomplishment flowing through him.

You glance at Soonyoung, taking in his slouched posture, the crinkle at the corners of his eyes, and the easy, almost boyish grin that seems to settle into place whenever he's around you. You don't ever recall spending alone time with him in the few years you've known him around school.

You've always been used to his energetic attitude, this infectious brightness that follows him anywhere and everywhere. It's a bit strange to witness this side of him, but the comfort of his presence right now feels oddly right.

"It's a bit too early for prom to end right now." He faces towards you eagerly. "We should do something."

You lift a brow. "Like what?"

Soonyoung nips the bottom of his lip in contemplation, before he abruptly stands up and offers a hand toward you in this goofy, gentlemanly fashion.

Your eyes widen as you look up at him. "Soonyoung..."

"May I have this dance?" His lips quirk up into a playful grin.

You look around the area, noticing that there was no one else in sight. It was just the two of you outside right now.

"You know that I can't dance," You say to him.

"That's okay," Soonyoung reassures you. "I know that you didn't want to come to prom, but... let me at least make it worth it for you. I can be your date for a few minutes, if you want."

I can be your date for a few minutes. The words bounce off the walls in your head, and the flutter you feel in your heart warms your face.

With some slight hesitation, you allow him to take your hand, and he practically makes you leap off the cold-stoned bench and towards a more secluded part of the parking lot, right under the glow of a streetlamp. The noise from prom fades away into the background.

Soonyoung faces toward you, and the gleeful grin on his face melts away into a softened, almost sheepish look.

"You can, um... put your hands right here. On my shoulders. And I’ll place my hands... here," Soonyoung instructs with a nervous chuckle, hands hovering near your waist. "If that's alright with you."

Soonyoung doesn't exactly know why he's suddenly feeling so bold. Maybe it's because he's spent quite literally almost all of his high school years admiring you silently from afar, or because tonight has been a rollercoaster of its own and he's realised that he doesn't want to waste this chance with you.

Placing your hands tentatively on his shoulders, his hands gently settle on your waist. Admittedly, it's a bit clumsy, awkward as you both just stand there, feeling the cool breeze against your skin and the faint hum of music from inside the venue. However, it seems to melt away when you both start slowly swaying back and forth.

"Try not to step on my feet," he mutters cheesily.

"Okay, mister professional," You tease amusedly, nerves settling as you adjust your feet so that you don't accidentally step on him with your heels.

As you both sway along a comfortable rhythm, Soonyoung continues to gaze at you. Not in a weird way𑁋at least, he hopes he's not𑁋but with a kind of adoration he's sure everyone could read on his face. It feels natural, this simple dance beneath the streetlamp, like a small piece of the prom night that was meant for just the two of you.

You gaze up at him wonderingly, squeezing his shoulder to get his attention. "What?"

"I..." Gosh, Soonyoung, snap out of it! "You're just... really pretty. That's all."

His words come out quiet and almost all mumbles as he hangs his head down low to the ground.

"You've told me that three times tonight," You remind him playfully. "in the span of an hour."

"I-I'll stop. I'm sorry𑁋"

"You don't have to stop," You cut him off softly, voice tinged with a smile. "But if you wanted to ask me out, you know... I wouldn't say no. No need to be shy about it."

Your words make Soonyoung freeze in place, his hands still on your waist. Along with the night, he holds his breath. For a moment, Soonyoung's brain short circuits, and all he can do is blink at you in disbelief.

"Y-You wouldn't?" he stammers.

You shake your head softly, that small smile still lingering. "No. I wouldn't."

Soonyoung's hands instinctively tighten just a little around your waist, as if he's afraid you might slip away. He clears his throat, trying to muster up some confidence.

"So... I could be your date a little longer than a few minutes?"

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you meet his nervous gaze, your fingers unconsciously tightening their hold on his shoulders.

"You could be my date for the rest of this night. Or this week. Or however long you want, Soonyoung."

There's that surge again𑁋a rush of warmth that sweeps through Soonyoung's entire body from top to bottom and making him feel like he's floating on cloud nine. He feels his pulse quickening, his heart racing, and the mask that was suppressing his giddiness all finally shed light. He's certain that you could feel it, too.

Seventeen-year-old Kwon Soonyoung feels as though he's stepped into a dream. Perhaps the universe had listened to his wishes all along.

Twenty-two-year-old Kwon Soonyoung had been told that high school relationships rarely ever last.

Well, to be fair, the two of you got together at the end of the year, so did it really count? He doesn't exactly know. But he's seen friends of his own break up with their supposed 'high school sweethearts'𑁋the ones where they've promised marriage and eternity and everlasting love𑁋and he'd been warned time and time again that those relationships often fizzle out when faced with the realities of adulthood.

But here he is, twenty-two, and still with you.

Soonyoung finds himself sitting at the dining table, laptop propped up in front of him, finally submitting his last assignment of the entire school year. And when he does, he shuts his laptop close, leaps out of the chair, and pumps his fist up into the air in victory.

"Yes!" he exclaims proudly into the empty apartment. "I'm done!"

He lets out a whoop of excitement, a grin stretching across his face from ear to ear. Finally the past few weeks of late nights and strenuous studying have paid off, and now, he gets to relax.

More importantly, he gets to relax with you.

As he's tidying up the apartment, the click of the door lock grabs his attention. His face lights up, and he quickly finishes putting away the last of the dishes, making a beeline straight to the front door.

You're walking in with a couple grocery bags, yet nearly drop them when a pair of arms wrap around you.

"Soonie! What the𑁋"

"I just submitted my last assignment, baby!" Soonyoung announces to you eagerly, arms squeezing around you in a tight hug. "We're done with school!"

When he pulls away, you give him a quick kiss to his cheek. "For now."

Soonyoung pouts slightly as you slip past him and towards the kitchen, beginning to put away the grocery bags. "Aw, come on, you're not excited for me?"

You chuckle at that. "Of course I am."

"But you're not showing it!"

You turn around, and Soonyoung is already standing in front of you with his arms folded across his chest, feigning a dejected look to his features𑁋a look that you know so well.

You could only let out a sigh, extending a hand to tug at his sleeve, pulling him closer to you.

"I'm proud of you, Soonie," You tell him warmly, watching the way his expression softens when he's this close to you. You let your fingers trace shapes up and down his arm. "I really am."

As another grin makes its way across his face, Soonyoung feels that familiar surge of energy𑁋of love𑁋course through him, and he wraps his arms around you once more to lift you up onto the counter. You yelp out a surprised giggle at his gesture, instinctively circling your arms around his neck for support. His eyes never leave yours as he gently sets you down, his hands resting lightly on your hips, face just inches from yours.

Soonyoung always feels like he might burst from happiness when he's this close to you, even in the few years you've been together now. He knows it's a feeling that won't go away, not now, not ever, not anytime soon.

"Gosh, you're so pretty, you know that?" He kisses you so softly, careful not to let all of his affection spill out right now. "So fuckin' gorgeous..."

"Okay, handsome, what happened to 'we're done with school'?" You tease gently, sighing quietly when his lips meet the skin of your shoulder. "Don't you want to make plans?"

"I have plans, alright," Soonyoung mutters against your skin, his lips brushing softly against your collarbone. "And you don't have to do anything else, m'kay?"

You tilt your head back slightly, gazing at him with amusement. "Are you sure that's all you need from me?"

"Hmm, a few more kisses wouldn't hurt, and I'll do the rest, yeah?" Soonyoung suggests playfully, already puckering his lips out for you. "Can I take care of you, please?"

You just giggle, taking his face in your hands and instead of kissing his lips, you press one right to the tip of his nose. "Whatever you want, Soonie."

The love surge that has been building up in his system finally releases its way out of his body, bursting out of him and consuming his entire being the second your mouth meets his. He's swift to pull you close and lift you effortlessly off the counter, his feet bringing him in the direction of the bedroom, your laughter mingling together and bouncing off the walls.

Twenty-two-year-old Kwon Soonyoung is convinced that no matter how much love he feels or how many times he shows it, there will always be more to give.

Twenty-eight-year-old Kwon Soonyoung finds that the word home has taken on a new meaning over the years.

Sure, he can find his proper comfort in the physical aspect, but it's different when you are in it with him.

Just like now, with you simply laying right next to him in bed, with Latte settled on your other side and body encased by the warmth of the duvet. Soonyoung doesn't think this is a sight he can wake up to every day; he knows it'll be a sight he'll have the privilege of cherishing for the rest of his life.

"Baby?"

"Hm...?"

He giggles lowly at the way your voice sounds so sleepy and content. Carefully, he presses his body up more against you, slipping one of his arms over you and the other under your pillow to draw you even closer to him. Your legs tangle even more together underneath the duvet, and he can't help but smile at how perfectly you fit against him.

"Hi," he whispers playfully into your ear, causing your nose to crinkle endearingly.

Yet instead of pushing him away, you flip over in his hold, nestling your head on his chest and muttering out a drowsy hi against him. Your arm wraps around his waist, and you let out a content sigh as you press a soft kiss to his neck. Soonyoung lets out an airy sigh, feeling the cold metal of the ring on your finger meet the skin of his back where his shirt had ridden up a little.

Even with years of being together, this routine of morning snuggles hasn't changed one bit; if anything, you seem to initiate more of the cuddles these days, and he doesn't mind it at all. Not one bit.

Latte curls her way into a more comfortable ball against your back as Soonyoung runs his hand under your shirt just slightly to trace his fingertips over the skin of your spine.

As he holds you for a few more, long minutes, Soonyoung separates himself a little, not to fully let go of you but just to capture his first glimpse of your face for the day.

"So pretty," he says, poking softly at your cheek. It's probably his quadrillionth time telling you that and every possible synonym of it, but it never seems to lose its meaning.

Slowly, your eyes flutter open to peer at him with a groggy but affectionate gaze.

"I love you."

Soonyoung blinks dazedly. Somehow, still always, he's always caught by surprise whenever you say those three little words to him. He's been hearing them for years now, every day and every night, but every time, it feels like the first.

It's almost ridiculous to admit how much of an effect you have on him still, how much you've managed to wrap him around your finger since the first time you met, but the heavens only know how grateful he is for it.

"I love you too."

Then his lips curl up into cheesy grin, and the surge of love that courses through him once more makes him tightly wrap his arms around you, causing you to stuff your face into his chest. You feel his body vibrate around you, muffling your giggles in his embrace, and accidentally jerking Latte awake with a soft whine.

Twenty-eight-year-old Kwon Soonyoung had finally discovered the meaning of home and love.

And it's you.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @eternalgyu

@lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @ryuwonieebae @wonwooz1

@mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23

@phenomenalgirl9 @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit

@bewoyewo @honglynights @bananabubble @treehouse-mouse @starshuas

@totomoshi @armycarat2612 @etherealyoungk @maesvtr0 @gigification

@ahuiahoe

[azullumi]

“affection weaves into the letters on your screen” ; aventurine and ratio

premise — messages and calls between you and him.

content tags — w/ gender-neutral reader, established relationship, fluff, texts and messages, not proofread, 0.8k ; headcanons

note — i needed something easy and nice because everything has been too stressful

If there’s one constant thing about AVENTURINE is that he is an avid fan of messaging, texting, or whatever the proper term for that is. No matter where he is and what he’s doing, he’ll always find the time to type in a message for you and press send—it could be about anything, from the random thing he’ll see while he’s walking which he thinks you’ll be interested in to how his day is going and possibly, ranting about it. The only time he’ll be inactive is when he’s in the middle of something, like completely and utterly busy that he couldn’t pick up his phone to check up on you or update you on what he’s doing.

Would use the most out of everything; calls, voice messages, attachments, everything. He’ll use stickers whenever he can and would use those silly emoticons because why not? He’s very expressive overall; it’s like you can hear his voice, see his expression, and the gestures he’ll do over the screen. 

PHOTOS !! There are new ones added to the shared gallery of your conversations with him every single day. He sees something cool? He takes a photo. He’s currently having a meal? No questions asked, he’ll take a photo. The critters are in this silly position? The camera is pointed at them already and the image of them in a circle while seemingly discussing something is sent. He’ll send selfies of himself throughout the day and he’s the type to pose with random things; there was a time he sent you a photo of himself holding a potted plant (he said it was an addition to his office and he thought you should know). It’s ridiculous, you may say, but he can’t contain the smile on his face when you send a photo back.

Occasionally, it’s videos that he sends.

It’s the late night calls and messages. Aventurine has sleeping problems, struggling to fall or stay asleep no matter how much he physically exhausts himself, so when worse comes to worst and it’s already midnight yet there’s no ounce of anything that makes his eyes heavy, he’ll message you—asking if you’re still awake and if you’re doing anything. It’s your voice that guides him to his dreams, gentle and delicate as a lullaby; by then, you’ll receive no response from him as you call for his name and you’ll have to whisper to him goodnight as he sleeps.

BONUS : on the topic of calls, he likes spending time with you in silence as you do your own thing while he also does his own. Your presence is enough to comfort him and keep him grounded.

VERITAS RATIO is not much of a texter and if he does send you a message, it’s mostly about engineering designs for a machine, requesting that you give him a set of questions if he needs something to simulate his weary brain, sending you links to a sign-up form for a debate that is occuring, or proposals for a certain project as he asks for your input. There are times you’ll find yourself debating with him—all just casual and he won’t throw a chalk at you. However, the line of your conversation between you and him is short and is separated by intervals; he just prefers talking in person or over calls. 

He’s probably the fastest typer you know but he rarely ever makes typos, like ever. He types strictly and formally with proper capitalization and punctuations with the mixture of the words that would require you to bring out a dictionary to understand, always starting his sentence with an uppercase and ending it with a period. It feels like you’re having a corporate or business meeting whenever you’re talking to him due to how formal he is over text (you can probably hear his voice whenever you read his messages too).

“DRYEST TEXTER IN THE UNIVERSE EVER” some would say and maybe you too, however, there are traces of sweetness and affection in your (short) conversations with him. He’s the one to greet you first in the morning, so expect that the moment the sun has risen, there’s a message notification from him displayed on the screen on your phone—the time you’ll rise from your bed, your sleeping and wake-up patterns are embedded in his mind and he ensures that you always wake up with a good morning. 

In note with that, sometimes, you’ll find yourself wondering if he even thinks of you, if you occasionally appear inside his mind and distract him from his work—doubt begins to muddle your thoughts. However, you must remember that he’ll always send you reminders throughout the day, telling you of the agenda you have planned for the afternoon which you told him once or twice the day before, reminding you to finish this task you’ve been procrastinating on, or just simply telling you to take a break or to eat something (especially when he knows that you don’t take care of yourself).

Be kind to yourself, will you? He looks out for you and cares for you a lot even if you may think otherwise.

EXTRA : doesn’t call and is not exactly a fan of it, however, if his phone were to ring and he sees it’s you calling for him, he wouldn’t hesitate to answer it.

tagging the one and only amazing and lovely @toorurs 🗣️ first of all, i’m sorry that i haven’t replied to your tiktoks when i told you i will (plsdonthateme) and second, i actually dont have a second thing to say. anywaysss!! i think we’ve both been busy these days or maybe it’s just me (sorry finals are approaching) but do know that no matter what happens i still treasure and love you as a friend ‼️ i saw this one plant in our trip yesterday and i remembered you i dont know why i think it’s because it was pretty and the color reminded me of you 🫶🏼 but yeah, keep on doing amazing things and amazing works (DONT DIE FELI THE WORLD WILL LOSE AN ANGEL) !! you’ve become one of my most favorite people ever and remember that i will always be here for youu mwa

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[poppy-metal]

dilf-next-door! art has me 😩 i just feel like he doesn't understand how good he looks. he knows that his body is bad. i mean he's an athlete after all. he's trained for years with the best personal trainers, had the best diet, still works himself to the bone, but he just doesn't see himself as super hot dilf. after years of his body just being a machine for tennis and all the choices for it being made by others, it doesn't feel like his body. it's just a vehicle to get things done. thinking about how infuriating and baffling it would be to hear him talk about himself like that. so you'd have to show him how wrong he was. you have him lay back on the bed and sit in between his legs. trace your fingers all over his arms and chest down to his stomach. rub his abs while you coo at him. he'd stare at you in awe because it all feels unique. being complimented so much and his position, it'd look submissive to an outside eye but everything you do is for him to recieve.

"most handsome man i've ever seen, art. so strong and fit. love it when you wrap your arms around me. make me feel so close to you and safe. and your legs, they're so strong too. feel hard under me. most guys my age don't even take care of themselves like you do. but all you do is work... and i think you deserve a reward."

just worship his body for the night. lick from his abs up to his chest and then kiss his neck. rub yourself on his thigh and tell him how good it feels. don't let him do any of the work aside from being able to feel you up however he wants. take his hands into yours when he grabs at your tits or hip, tell him how thick his fingers are and how good they feel when they're inside you. make it slow and thorough before you move on to the very hard thing in his boxers. 

-☕

cock worship with art..... head fuzzy..... he's so used to giving, and he prefers it that way - you can tell he's not used to it. his body is tense and nearly buzzing with the urge to sit up, to put his hands on you, but you'd looked up at him with your big doting eyes and pleaded with him, genuinely pleaded - like it was something you wanted (it was), to take care of him, to please him - and that doesn't really compute to him - cant work his brain around it - but he can't deny you anything, is the thing. telling you no is worse than getting a blowjob, he's not so deep in his issues with self worth that he'd make a big fuss about you putting your mouth on his body. its the staying still that he has trouble with.

you can tell with every twitch and jump of his muscles as you skim your mouth down his toned body. he hisses and jolts when you lick around the hard peaks of his nipples. "sorry," you giggle, moving down to his stomach. his hard stomach - god - "they looked cold. wanted to warm them up."

"jesus." you peer up at him to see his gaze is cast to the ceiling, like he cant look at you. it makes you smile, you know he doesn't get it but you're having the time of your life here. his perfectly toned, tight, rigid body. warm and solid under you, you cant help rubbing your cheek against his hip, nuzzling into the toned muscle of his thigh. he's so beautiful. theres so much power here - locked tight under skin and bones and muscle mass - all perfectly crafted, because even still he cares about his body, cares to keep it fit. and you'd love him no matter what he looked like, soft and round, short and stout, but just as he is - an athletes body, hes a marvel.

so much care and time spent into looking this way, and he expexts you not to appreciate it? not to drool over him? insanity.

"you're so strong," you coo at him. rub you hands up his twitching thighs. he doesn't have alot of hair - but he has some fuzz. your fingers find the band of his boxers, his hips lift the slightest bit with an inhale and you smile again - knowing that he loves this, needs this even if he wont admit it - he loves this - he wants this so bad - to be selfish. to be worshipped and shown love. to be desired and hungered for. and you're so hungry. "i think about you all the time, you know. your body - your cock -" your voice sounds like you're waxing poetry, your nose nudging up the cotton of his boxers, "i think about it all the time. drives me crazy. you drive me so fucking crazy."

"baby," he sounds pained. you see his hands twitch on the sheets, curl into fists, the effort not to touch you has to be driving me just as insane. "fuck, you dont - y-you dont have to say - "

"im not just saying it." you interrupt. "i mean it. i love -" the heat of his cock radiates from the thin cotton - you press your face against him through it. feel the hard organ jump under your lips. "-your big fat cock." your cunt is throbbing. you don't tug his boxers down yet, mouthing at him, your lips find the tip of him through the fabric and you pull it into your mouth, dampening the cotton - tasting the salt even now. moaning around it.

"oh god," he's trembling. he loses the battle and you feel his hands touch you, you don't ask him to keep still anymore, because you know hes not fighting this anymore, fighting you. one of his hands card through your hair, big palm cradling the back of your head. the other coming up to tug at his boxers. "please - "

you lift your chin, help him in shoving his boxers down - until they're resting under his balls, you take a moment to admire them - fat and plump and pink - try not to drool at the way his hard cock bounces free and rests against his hard stomach. a bead of pre already pearling out from his slit, leaking.

you fail on the not drooling. your mouth filling with spit. "please, what. what do you want me to do art?"

because he'll feel so free once he says it. admits it. gives in.

he meets your eyes and you try not to be turned on by the desperate almost panicked look in his gaze, like the enormity of his own desire scares him. his lips are puffy and bitten red and he naws and naws on them, before he lifts his hand, fingers feathering over your cheek. reverent. you watch his adams apple bob as he swallows.

and then art donaldson demands something from you for the first time. the hand cupping the back of your neck, urging you forward, towards his hard aching cock thats been neglected for far too long.

"make me cum."

[aerynwrites]

Lost For Words

Gale Dekarios x gn!Reader

A/N: for the anon that sent in this request - I hope you and everyone else enjoys! I had such a fun time writing this haha.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: sexual content (not explicit), grinding, reader is a tease, gale is a flustered mess, suggestive talk, kissing, fluff at the beginning.

*I tried to keep this gender neutral, but please let me know if anything slipped through my editing!*

It’s not often you get any downtime, what with the parasite in your brain and all. 

But this evening has afforded you and your companions a rare but much needed free night. Most everyone has decided to spend the evening down in the tavern, drinking or gambling or whatever other pastimes happen down there. However, you and Gale have opted to stay upstairs, reveling in the unusual peace and quiet. 

Gale had been reading to you for a while, a fantasy book of some sort, but you’d excused yourself a few moments ago. Not because you were enjoying lounging in bed with him, but because a certain item in your bag has been calling to you since you received it. 

The Wavemother’s Robe. 

It has been a gift for getting ride of that machine that was polluting the bay waters, and you hadn’t really had a chance to look at it. 

But now, after you’ve retrieved it and stepped behind the dressing screen, you find that there isn’t really much to look at, at all. 

As you slip into the delicate yet butter-soft fabric, you can’t help but notice that it leaves very little to the imagination. So, in that sense, there is a lot to look at depending on who’s doing the looking. 

The neckline of the detailed collar of robe plummets down in a tragically deep neckline, the end reaching your navel. And the skirt of the robe is much the same, the slits in the sides coming up all the way to above your hip, leaving the fabric covering yourself hanging dangerously loose in the front and back. 

For half a second, you're tempted to rip the thing off and get rid of it. The whole outfit is somewhat absurd. 

But, despite your question about the functionality of such a garment, you can’t help but admire the beauty of it. The blue, scaled fabric sparkles in the dim candle light of the room, iridescent light bouncing off the walls whenever you turn. Even the small delicate chains at your hips and resting against your sternum twinkle gently. 

When you look in the floor-length mirror you can’t help but let your mouth drop open slightly. 

You look…good. If not a bit exposed. 

Without thinking much about it, you turn and come out from behind the screen, approaching Gale where he still sits on the bed reading. If he hears your approach he doesn’t acknowledge it, only flipping a page every so often as you watch him in silence, a small smile on your face. 

He’s sat propped up against the headboard, legs outstretched in front of him and crossed at the ankles. He cradles the book gentle in his hands atop his lap, eyes trailing over the page quickly as he consumes the story. 

You take a couple steps closer to the bed, now just an arms length away. 

He still doesn’t look up. 

“Gale…” you call in a soft sing-song voice. 

The wizard merely hums, inclining his head your way ever so slightly, but never takes his eyes from the page. 

“Yes, my love?” 

You huff, rolling your eyes as your smile tugs further at your lips. 

“I wanted your thoughts on my new clothes.” 

You watch as his brows furrow, his thumb sliding down the page to hold his place as he closes the book before slowly turning to look at you. 

“Your clothes-?”

His questioning is cut off with the audible clack of his teeth as his mouth slams shut, his eyes going wide as they finally take you in, trailing from your head to your toes before whipping back up again. 

He blushes. Actually blushes - his cheeks turning several shades darker as his eyes flit over your form once more before he’s back to looking at you all wide-eyed and scandalized. 

A shit eating grin overtakes your earlier soft smile as you take the last few steps to the edge of the bed, reaching out to pluck the book from his hands to toss it to the side. 

“So…what do you think?” you ask, voice dripping sweetness. 

“W-what do I-? I - ehm…it’s certainly - revealing-“

You drop your lips into a pout as you crawl onto the bed, your nose barely brushing his own as you swing a leg over his hips to settle on his lap. The robe pools between you, but the position causes the silken fabric to rise up your hips even further. One wrong move and even less would be left to the imagination. 

Something Gale must take notice of, as he instinctively reaches out to tug at the fabric on your hips, keeping it in place as his fingers dig into the flesh beneath it. 

“Do you not like it?” you ask, feigning disappointment as you reach down to toy with the chain running down your chest. “I thought it was pretty.” 

Gale clears his throat and shifts his hips, the evidence of just how much he likes it evident against your inner thigh. 

“N-No not at all I -“ He coughs, the blush reaching down to his chest now, making his orb mark stand out against the flushed skin. “I simply was not expecting…”

His words taper off as you begin to trail a finger over the mark on his chest, following the tendrils up over his collarbone and onto the sensitive skin of his neck, making his breath hitch. 

“Not expecting…what?” 

“Well - I was deeply entrenched in m-my reading and then you come out like t - that!” 

His last word pitches up when you grind your hips against his own, his fingers now digging into your hip bones. 

You lean in close, lips brushing his cheek as you speak. 

“Thats a very…lackluster description,” you pout. “Have I left the great Gale of Waterdeep lost for words? What happened to your supposed verbosity? And I remember something about a practiced tongue -“ 

Your teasing words are cut off sharply as Gale's arms wrap around your waist and he flips you both over on the bed, your back hitting the mattress with a soft this just as his lips claim yours, swallowing your gasp of surprise. 

He wastes no time, his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips, demanding entrance. 

Something you happily grant him. 

The kiss is eager, frenzied, leaving no room for the teasing banter you had established earlier.

His hands move to slide down over your bare thighs before hiking one of them up over his hip and holding it there as he presses his hips down into your own. 

Only when his hips meet your own in a desperate grind does he pull away from you, lips moving instead to trail kisses down your cheek and jaw. 

“If you had given me a moment to collect myself,” he chastises lightly. “I would have gathered my wits enough to tell you how magnificent you look.” 

“Ravishing.” He presses a kiss beneath your ear. “Captivating.” Another on the junction of your shoulder. 

“Absolutely sinful.” 

A sharp nip to your collarbone has you gasping, just as a calloused hand slides up the exposed expanse of your chest, fingers hooking beneath the delicate chains there. 

“So…” He trails off, his lips traveling down to where his hand lays and then lower, pressing lightly to where the deep plunge of your robe ends. 

“Since you were so impatient, I suppose I’ll just have to show you as well. To make up for my lack of…verbosity.” 

A moan slips past your lips at his words, and you can't stop the shiver of excitement that runs through as his hands slip beneath the fabric of the robe. 

Maybe you’ll keep the robe after all. 

[dinogoofymutated]

I absolutely adore how you write Kurt,

Could you write something for Kurt being concerned for an overworked reader?

And or a reader that struggles with sleep?

SFW!Nightcrawler/GN! Reader The amount of comfort that this man gives me UGH! He's just so caring and sweet, but I worry about him :( He's been the therapist friend in basically every episode in 97' and he deserves some comfort too so I added basically the reverse version of these headcannons at the end as well! Sorry I didn't end up writing anything for sleep, I've written a fic with some sleep struggle themes here but I might end up writing some seperate headcannons for that later! TWs: Themes of burnout/exhaustion. Mentions of the Genosha attack and Remy's death/funeral, religious themes. As always, reader written while picturing Fem! But no pronouns mentioned. I'm doing my best with adding German dialect while Kurt speaks but I'm not super knowledgeable, so let me know if there's something I need to change!

Kurt makes it his absolute mission to make sure you're always taken care of. Food, emotional support, laundry, dishes, Hell, he'd give you the sun and stars if you needed them. He just cares about you so much, and he never wants you to feel like you're alone in this world.

This being said, when he feels that you're overworking yourself, he's not afraid to let you know.

When he first starts to notice it, He'll check in on you more often. He'll pull you into a hug and give you kisses and he'll only leave when you reassure him that you're perfectly fine.

If you're still overworking yourself after this, he will outright tell you that he loves you, but you need a break. You can't go on like this and he's concerned about you. He doesn't purposely give you the sad puppy eyes, but seriously, how could you think about saying no to that face?

He really likes to brush his hands through your hair when he's trying to help you relax. He'll move your head into his lap on the couch and hum you softly to sleep. He might take you to bed, but he won't wake you up unless he absolutely has to. He won't go as far as to turn off your alarms, but he just wants you to rest.

However, if you know you're overworking yourself but still refuse to let yourself stop, or take a break, he's going to be a little more "aggressive".

    Your computer screen is giving you a migraine, you feel like you want to tear your brain out of your head, and plainly? You just can’t sit still. You had been in this spot for about six hours straight. The last time you actually got up was to eat dinner, and even then you had only relaxed for what, thirty minutes? You can’t really remember.

    You sigh deeply, leaning back in your chair as you massage your temples. Working for the budding country of Genosha was certainly not for the weak. You needed to have this paperwork finished and faxed before the end of the week so that talks of Genosha entering the U.N. could continue. It was such a hefty amount, but it was necessary. Everyone else had done their part, and all you had to do was make corrections, edit, and make sure everything was in top shape. You’d been working on it for about three days straight, and with the finish line in sight, you didn’t want to stop now. 

    Oh, but your head hurts so bad, and you feel like you're starving. You look from your computer to your copy machine and the huge stack of mostly finished paperwork on your desk. You just want it to be over with, you decide it’s best if you just push through.

    “You haven’t moved from that spot since lunch,” You hear Kurt state. He comes around the side of your chair to brush some stray locks away from your forehead, and you do your best to give him a smile, although it’s obvious the expression is pained.

    “I didn’t hear you come in.” Your voice comes out a little gravelly from being silent most of the day. Kurt’s hands begin to gather your hair and caress the back of your neck lovingly. His hands feel good, grounding. You close your eyes to appreciate the feeling and miss the sight of Kurt’s frown.

    “Let’s get you to bed, Liebchen. I can tell your head hurts.” Kurt’s tone is gentle, although displeased, and it makes you feel guilty when you shake your head and pull away, leaning forward as you restack the paperwork on your desk.

    “I can’t. I’m almost done with this whole U.N. thing and the sooner it’s over, the better.” You mumble stubbornly. Kurt shakes his head at you, pulling your rolling chair away from the desk before you can get your hands on something else. You don’t even have the energy to express your shock as Kurt takes the papers out of your hands, using the table to straighten them before placing them in their proper place. He tuts at you as he does so, and continues to save your files and power down the computer despite your protests.

    “My apologies, love, but I won’t let you rot in this room for another moment. I understand how important this work is to you. Giving Genosia a voice that the world can hear is a very noble cause, and yet it is still a cause that can wait till tomorrow, Ja?” You open your mouth to attempt to protest again, but your head hurts so bad, and you are so tired. Kurt takes your hands to help you out of your chair, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he pulls you into a gentle hug.

    “Okay. But-” You don’t finish your sentence before Kurt is tucking your face into his shoulder, sparing you the view as he Bamfs you away. When he lets you go, you’re standing in your bedroom. You’re thankful that he spared you the sights, knowing that it would have just made your head worse- but it didn’t change the fact that you hadn’t been remotely done in the office.

    “-I still need to lock up, Kurt.” You start to say, but he’s gone in a puff of smoke before you can even finish the sentence. When he makes it back a few minutes later, Kurt sends you a cheeky smile, lifting his tail to show you the keys he must’ve snagged from your pocket earlier. 

    “Did you-”

    “Lock the file cabinet? Yes. And I turned off your lamp, and closed the curtains before I locked the door.” Kurt kisses your temple as he sits you down on the bed, beginning to take your shoes off. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you taken care of.” You feel like your heart might explode with the overwhelming fondness you’re feeling right now. When he’s done with your shoes, he carefully helps you undress and change into pajamas, something he knows you struggled with when you were as exhausted as you are now. He makes sure to tuck you into bed before he himself goes to change. It doesn’t matter how much pain you felt at this point, when he crawled into bed you couldn’t stop yourself from curling up close to him, pressing tired kisses to whatever part of him you could reach. Kurt simply chuckles, pulling you into an embrace as he whispers sweet encouragements for you to sleep.

    “Kurt?”

    “Yes, Meine Liebe?”

    “ ‘Think you could Marry me?”

Now just because Kurt will do everything in his power to keep you from reaching the point of burnout, doesn't mean that he himself will stop from reaching that point.

Kurt is a genuinely good person, right to the core. He likes helping people, he likes to care for others, but he doesn't always ask for help when he needs it. It's not that he doesn't have emotional intelligence for his own feelings, he just tends to soothe himself by assisting others. Even then, to an extent, that's not healthy coping. There is only so much someone can carry alone.

After the attack on Genosha, there was a lot of work that had to be done- and Kurt, being a familiar and dependable face in the many religious communities, was needed constantly in a tumultuous time when many turned to religion.

It's been a struggle for the two of you, much of your time together being cut short in one way or another, and the longer you spent away, the more worried you became.

It all came to a head after Remy's funeral.

    Remy’s funeral was… Rough. To say the least. No one was coping very well, especially not Jubilee. You had walked out to the cars with the group after the last of the dirt had been laid, making sure to give her a tight hug. The X-men were the only real family she had ever had, and now she had lost a brother. You had let her sob for a moment, listening to her cries and the sounds of doors, opening and closing. 

    When everyone had loaded up and was ready to head out, you noticed that Kurt wasn’t there. You told everyone that you would catch up. You had a feeling you knew where he would be.

    You find Kurt in an empty church. He’d shed his outermost robes at some point, and was sitting silently on a pew. His eyes are closed and his hands folded, praying. You don’t disturb him as you sit down, simply reaching a hand out and placing it on his knee, squeezing it to let him know you were there. When he finishes, he places his hand over your own, opening his eyes as he looks down. His tears are flowing freely, and he leans into your touch when you wipe them from his cheeks.

    “I’ve been told that there is strength in a man that freely mourns, but… It’s silly. I can’t help but wish that I was stronger.” Kurt’s almost whispering as he speaks. You feel a lump form in your throat, your stinging eyes welling with tears for the countless time today. It hurts so unbelievably to see someone you love hurting so much, knowing that there is so little that you can do to make the pain go away, even if the loss is shared.

    “It’s not silly. I think that a lot of people feel the same- especially right now.” You say. You take hold of his left hand, tracing the cool metal band on his finger. You compare it to the one you wear, and find yourself thankful that the hand that bears his is still warm. You think of Rogue and Remy. The life they could’ve had together, if only they had been given more time. 

    You lean your head on Kurt’s shoulder, and he rests his head on top of your own. 

    “You don’t have to carry it alone.” You whisper eventually. Kurt says nothing, lacing his fingers between yours. “I know we haven't had a lot of time together lately, but as long as I’ve known you, you’ve carried so much on your shoulders- but you don’t have to do it alone. That’s what I’m here for, remember?” Kurt laughs lightly at your words, squeezing your left hand before lifting it to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

    “You are a gift that I’m not entirely sure I deserve, my love,” Kurt says. You scoff at him, frowning now as you look up to meet his eyes.

    “Lying is a sin, Kurt.” You say playfully. His smile is blinding, and you gasp as Kurt Wagner of all people rolls his eyes at you. 

    “Even if it was a lie, which it isn’t, as long as I have you near, Schatz, Heaven will be in reach.”

[eternity-death]

I would like to give out some technical cyborg tips for people who write Boothill!!!

Cyborg ≠ Robot. Robots are entirely machine (SCREWLLUM is a robot)… a cyborg is part human part machine. And when I say part human I am SPECIFICALLY talking about the brain. A cyborg is literally a human brain encased in a mechanical body. There could be nothing organic in the body— no skin, bones, veins, nerves, etc— but as long as there is a human brain running it, it is still a cyborg. Boothill’s head is almost entirely organic— but his eyes were probably tinkered with and given enhancements.

Do cyborgs need sleep? Yes. A human brain is still a human brain, and the brain NEEDS sleep to function. However, they may not need to sleep as often as a normal human does.

Do cyborgs need to eat? Yes (Kind of)!! Again, it’s a human brain, and the brain needs nutrients or it will begin to eat itself. Now, HOW the nutrients is acquired is subjective. Some cyborgs may eat normally, while some might have other ways to receive the nutrients they need. How? Not sure. Maybe they have a reserve somewhere in their body that supplies nutrients to the brain.

Do cyborgs need to bathe? Also subjective. It probably depends on how much of the cyborg’s body has been altered. If it’s still mostly organic then yeah, probably. But in Boothill’s case he might just need to spiff it up every now and then (kind of like washing a car), there’s probably special treatments for bodies like his. He does have to wash his hair regularly, though. “Can he get wet?” I think he can handle a few splashes/travel in the rain, but I’m not sure if he can submerge himself in a body of water.

Can cyborgs feel physical touch? THIS is subjective, but honestly, I don’t think they can. We have receptors in our body that allow us to feel things— I don’t think you can replicate that in a mechanical body. I do think he has special sensors that can perceive the closeness of a foreign object/another person, but I don’t think he can FEEL them.

Anyways, that’s all for now. Hope this helps!!!

[qqueenofhades]

can you assuage my creeping fear about the debate between harris and trump? my brain is like. the media will be salivating over any chance to get the story HARRIS FLUBS THE DEBATE MORE AT 6 unless she's 100% perfect for it. i keep telling myself that she's an incredibly seasoned prosecutor who knows exactly what to do to unravel these sorts of people, she has plenty of time to prepare, he's completely gone over the edge into incoherence most of the time, but i also keep thinking of how, after weeks of her absolutely pile-driving the republican party, the media will be circling for any mistake, mis-step, or imperfection to blow out of proportion to make it seem like she's failing. i guess what i'm afraid of is the other shoe dropping? or the bubble bursting? i'm afraid of this hope?

i was barely aware of obama in 2008, too young to vote and not paying attention, so i don't know how this kind of momentum turned into the juggernaut that got him elected. i know you believe that the same can happen here, how did he take on the predatory press?

Well, first, we need to recognize that the media treatment of the debate WILL be wildly unfair, full stop. If Trump shows up and puts on pants, he will be applauded by the media, because they have the lowest imaginable bar where he is concerned and everything that would have been multiply-disqualifying for any other candidate makes them just shrug and find a way to make excuses for him. So yes, he will literally be congratulated if he shows up on September 10, because that is how the media works. See: three relentless weeks of bullying Biden out of the race after the bad debate, barely mentioning Trump's equally insane diatribes at the same debate, and now, when he's gone full-on demented and is raving about AI-generated crowds at Kamala's events? Nary a peep. Lol.

However, the main narrative that's emerging from the Harris takeover is that voters and the media are miles apart on where they actually see this race going, and without the media's favorite chew toy of Biden's shortcomings, it has become increasingly difficult to avoid focusing on Trump's flaws, even tangentially. See the mainstream media reporters whining constantly that Harris hasn't given them a press conference and congratulating Trump for lying to them nonstop for an hour; they simply have no frame of reference that's remotely useful, because they are so beholden to making Trump look like a normal candidate and focusing on Harris's "flaws" as if they are remotely comparable to his. But at the same time, there has been a far heightened level of pushback on this BS manipulation, and everybody can see through it, precisely because the media and/or the right-wing smear machine has tried this so many times before and their tactics are now completely transparent. Ordinary voters don't give a shit whether Harris WiLl tAkE qUesTioNs fRoM tHe mEdiA; they're too busy flooding her campaign with donations, attending her rallies, signing up for volunteer shifts, and so forth. In fact, the reason the media is trying SO HARD to kill her momentum is because they, like Trump, rely on doing so. The more they try and don't succeed, the more panicked they'll get. We have to prepare for that, and we have to have her back.

That said, we should recall that Harris easily crushed Pence in their debate in 2020, and Pence was actually halfway presentable at it compared to Trump (which is a low bar, but still). The way Trump "wins" is that he just repeats a lot of lies forcefully and over and over, which Biden was ill-prepared to counter because he has a far more deliberate and decisive speaking style (related to stutter/speech difficulties, temperament as a politician, etc). Everything that I have seen from the Harris campaign in terms of communication so far, however, has been the exact kind of clapback that makes Trump look stupid and which shows that they are very attuned to the kind of strategies that work against that nonsensical bullying Gish gallop. Therefore, I have to trust that they have INTENSIVELY studied what went wrong with Biden/Trump in June, and also empowered Kamala to do what she does in her fashion and which has been extremely successful thus far at knocking down Trump's BS. Also, she's just a better and more fluent communicator than Biden, she looks and sounds more energetic, and those stupid aesthetic Vibes are half of the battle when it comes to convincing the public.

Also, we should recognize that Trump looked deeply creepy on stage at the debates with HRC in 2016, and that was when he was downright sane compared to now. He stalked her, he stood behind her, he rolled his eyes, he bullied her, and people noticed that (he subsequently won the election, yes, but if nothing else, 2024 feels nothing like 2016). If he has to stand on stage with a black woman kicking his ass, after his appearance at the NABJ event in Chicago quickly became a touchstone for how badly he fucked it up, he is going to just look BAD, and when that's the case, people will immediately fit it into the existing narrative (that he's scared of Harris and deeply racist and unglued). You can also play your part in making sure it does. At least half of the Bidengate furor came from Democrats melting down and yelling about it afterward, and that led into the knives-out media coverage that spiraled for 3.5 weeks until Biden withdrew. We can, yknow, NOT DO THAT this time!

So: yeah. We have to be aware that yes, the media coverage of the debate will find absolutely every excuse to praise Trump and bash Harris, because that's just baked in. However, we can also understand that there's a wide-and-getting-wider CHASM between how ordinary voters see things right now and how the media is desperate to play it, and the more transparent they get, the more easily we are able to call it out. (See Lawrence O'Donnell's rant the other night.) We are going to have to keep doing that and not let up, but it's not going to go well for Trump either way and it's still an open question as to whether he even shows up after trying SO hard to dodge. It's not out of the question that he'll announce on September 4 that by Harris not showing up to the Fox debate she never agreed to and which exists only in his deluded mind, he doesn't have to do the same on September 10. He is a scared fucking orange chickenshit who KNOWS he's badly outmatched against Harris and whose entire campaign strategy at this point relies on lying low and trying not to make voters remember again how much they hate him, which is already backfiring. And with your help, we can make him MORE scared all the way to prison. Let's do it.