#i got so invested and then suddenly it was this long oops

[dairyfreenugget]

(Going insane boinkinh one AU in my head)

Hey hey hey

May I interest you in

(Slowly slides my FaaF AU towards you but void just Disappears without a trace one day before the accolade)

Teehee

[theflagscene]

Wait! How!? When!? Where!? How is White suddenly there!? How did Tee meet White!? You can’t just play upbeat music and have the boys running around to show the passage of time and not explain how the fucking villain of the story got the most adorably innocent lil princess boyfriend on the planet!

Phee, bringing Jin on a date to the same place you and Non liked to go is just weird. I hate people who use the same ‘date’ spots for their new partners that they used with their past partners and no, this isn’t me projecting, why do you ask!? Lmao 😂 shut up it’s still tacky af

‘Friend’ the dreaded word.

What is with the ass slapping and window sex!? I mean, I get that they’re supposed to 18 year old boys, who are by definition perverted, but that was some porn level shit. Also, again, no prep. Phee wasn’t even the one blown so it’s not like they were even using spit for lube, or an already lubed condom. What is this, another ABO show? Just having the dudes slick and sliding all over one another apparently.

Ta’s got a decent ass at least, good for him.

“Did you cheat on my brother?” Nah, pretty sure they broke up when Phee saw him being raw dogged by the teacher and then told him to go die, but whatever helps you sleep at night Tan.

“Don’t fall in love with him.” Yeah, I think it’s too late for that.

Oh, mom is not looking so great. Hmm, something tells me that video isn’t real. Mom knows what’s up, it’s finally hit her, her baby’s dead. The actress did a fantastic job of a mother realizing the truth of the death of her child, it’s a startling realization that does take your legs out from under you. Your mind blanks, you can’t think about anything but the last time you saw them, the last terrible thing you said, all you can do is try not to scream. - That got a little too dark and real, sorry.

news.boc.com Cute BoC, very cute.

How long were Phee and Jin supposed to have been fucking by now? Weeks? Months? Because Jin has gotten very emotionally invested very quickly, which is appropriate for teenagers I suppose.

Two years, so they’d be in their what, second year of uni? Tan has gone full mad scientist I see.

Wait, he called to tell Tan that his mom was dead and it was her funeral that day and he just showed tf up! When his dad thought he was still in England!? Lmao, that’s fricking hilarious. I know, I know, wrong reaction to this scene but I’m weird, what can I say.

Oops, bye bye daddy. No wonder Tan is so fucking nuts! That would drive anyone insane. He literally needs Non to be alive otherwise he’s lost everything for nothing.

Is Tan his own guinea pig for his drugs!? Jesus dude, get some help.

Question, were Phee and Jin fucking during their time at university too? Or are you telling me all this ‘I love him’ crap was from one night of decent dick and a few ‘best friend dates’? Like the math ain’t mathing, establish a better timeline here for me when it comes to their relationship because in the first episode it made it seem like they were screwing around for a really long time, months at the very least. But now it seems like they fucked around a couple times in one 12 hour period, Jin decided that was enough to wanna date, caught Phee in a mood because of the fake news report and then they just… what? Kept fucking? Stopped? Jin carried a torch for him for over two years after one night together? Acted like a scorned lover for years because of a single teenaged tryst? Not to be that guy, but girl, you’re coming off a little desperate. I need a more accurate timeline!!!

“This won’t kill them.” Tan, could you try and be a tad more convincing when saying that?

That was a fantastic look from Tan to end on, ngl. Although someone needs to save baby White!

Next episode, we’re back in the present for the most part it seems. Jin somehow still trusts Phee, Fluke somehow gets the gun back and oh look, he holds White hostage, poor bb did nothing, leave him alone! And Tee clearly does know what happened to both Non and Keng as he runs up onto the roof where his uncle is to see the pair… unconscious? Dead? One of each?

I want some backstory about how White fits into all of this next time as well, that would be great. Although considering how little the timeline of events during grade 12 are fully explained, I doubt knowing more about White would make very much sense at this point.

[emilymaxximoff]

The World; Carl Grimes X Fem!Reader

CW: Fluff, Two violence, Swearing, Mention of drinking, Mention of ED when talking about Heathers

Prompt: "We're just friends." "You're joking they look at you like you're their whole world."

A/N: I kinda hate this but I invested way to much time into this to not to post it. I once again did not proof read (oops but honestly I probably never will lol) I really hope y'all like it. This is like so much fluff I swear I had a direction I was going in. Maybe I'll try to write a spicy something next lol. Reminder everyone is like at least 18 or 19. Anyway love y'all.

"Fuck!" you yelled as you used your knife to make a hole in a walkers brain. A horde had attacked your group out on a run. Everyone was fighting for their lives but all you could think about was Carl. What would happen to him if you didn't come back? Would it matter? Would he care? You two had been best friends forever and had never gone on a run without each other before. You had feelings for him and if you died now all of that was over. He would never know. You still wondered why all you could think about was him as you dug your blade into another walkers head, fighting for your and the rest of your groups lives.

Suddenly someone grabbed your arm and screamed your name. "Y/N come on we have to get to the car!" Enid was dragging you to the van you all had ridden in while Daryl and Carol covered you as you made a mad dash for the van. You violently opened the door and pushed Enid through before hoisting yourself through the door of the van, climbing into the back grabbing Daryl's gun from him as he hopped into the drivers seat and started the van to speed out of there. In hindsight it was a terrible idea to only bring your knives and handgun to this run but god you loved that shotgun and now you had an excuse to use it. You had tried to steal it from Daryl before but he had always managed to steal it back. We opened the windows and shot at as many walkers as we could as Daryl sped through the horde. When we finally got out of the horde and on a clear path back to Alexandria I sighed.

"Fuck dude, I thought I was gonna die back there. Yo, Daryl you sure I can't steal this?" you joked, holding up his shotgun.

Daryl jokingly rolled his eyes. "Keep dreaming, Y/N."

The group got out of the van hauling the small amount of supplies you all had secured out in your backpacks and walked in the gates of Alexandria. Rick greeted us with confused look as the group were covered in more blood and guts than normal.

"What happened guys? Why are you all so dirty?" Rick inquired.

"Got inta a bit of a scruff with a horde of walkers. Sorry we didn' get much this time but at least we made it back." Daryl replied.

"That's alright. Is everyone clean?" He looked us up and down as we all nodded. "Ok then, what have ya guys got for us at least?"

Daryl continued on a conversation with Rick and Carol as they emptied their bags while you and Enid crouched nearby emptying your bags as well. You gently nudged Enid with a wide grin on your face and giggled. "How much do you wanna bet Daryl is gonna call Rick sweetheart one of these days."

"Oh I would bet my life on it." she laughed back.

As you both giggled you turned your head and saw Carl coming up the road to greet you both. Your smile widened even more. You had made it back to him but the words to tell him how you felt would evaded you once again. You saw Enid straighten her clothes and adjust her hair in preparation for his hello.

"Hey Carl!" Enid said as she attempted to give him a flirtatious smile.

"Hey Enid." Carl replied giving her a quick hug before turning to you and smiling wide before saying loudly saying, "Y/N! You made it back alive." He gave you a long hug picking you up off the ground and laughing as he swayed with you in his arms. "God damn you are just covered in guts. What the fuck did you do this time."

"Jesus" you giggled. "Why do I always get blamed for this shit? What about Enid she was there too asshole?"

"Yeah but you're the fuck up"

"Fuck you." you said as you punched his arm. God he was infuriating but you loved it. He was your best friend in the whole world and everything he did and said gave you butterflies. You would die for this one eyed boy.

Enid suddenly spoke up forcing a small smile. "Hey guys how bout Y/N and I go clean up then we meet up before the town get together tonight."

"Sounds good to me." Carl replied. "See you guys in like an hour or two?"

"Yeah, sounds great see ya"

"Bye Carl." you said as you turned back to Enid. "Hey can I just come back to your place to take a shower? I was gonna ask if you wanted to watch a movie till then. I think we deserve it."

Enid grins. "Yeah I think we do. Come on let's go."

----------

You sat on the couch next to Enid watching Heathers. Your wet hair lay on your t-shirt you had stolen from Enid. She had let you borrow her clothes so you didn't have to go back to your room across town in the Grimes house where you lived but at this point you owned more of her clothes than your own.

"It just baffles me how people would throw up their perfectly good food." Enid commented.

"Yeah it's weird but I get it. Beauty was a big thing back then they cared if they looked like a model and not whether they could kill a bitch." You replied trying to make a joke at the same time.

"Isn't this movie about killing bitches though? Like that's the whole plot." Enid giggled. You had both watched this movie 100 times but somehow it always ended in this conversation but you weren't one to complain. Movies were scarce in the apocalypse and you were happy to even have a few, or electricity for that matter.

"Enid..." you laughed as you heard a knock at the door.

"I got it." Enid said as she jumped out of her seat and made a dash for the door. You knew it had to be Carl and the way Enid always acted around him you knew something had to be going on. Maybe that's another reason you kept all of your feelings to yourself. You didn't want to hurt Enid and you thought she had a better chance than you ever could.

"Hey guys, are we ready to go?" Carl asked standing in the door way peering into the living room.

"As long as Enid is ready so am I." you replied looking towards Enid for conformation and she nodded. You hit the power button on the remote and got up from the couch to make your way over to the door Enid and Carl were standing at.

The three of you walked down the street towards the town center. The sun shone off the water in the quarry as you walked toward it. You all laughed as you joked and got to be young adults for once. There was almost no times like these. Times where you could just live and enjoy life. Times where you weren't fighting for your life. As you walked down the street Carl continuously bumped into you lightly grazing your hand gently each time as you all hysterically laughed.

----------

You sat next to Enid on the couch with a beer in your hand. Your social battery was almost gone and it was late. You knew you would be going home soon. Carl was over talking to his dad and you finally had a second to breathe and take in how he made you feel. You spent the whole party making sure to not let him know how you felt. Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Enid sighing loudly.

"Why do you have to be so fucking charismatic and prefect?" she said as she leaded back into the couch.

"What?" you asked confused.

"Just you being you and Carl is literally in love with you and I'm just so fucking jealous all the time."

You looked at Enid with wide eyes. You couldn't believe your ears. Your mouth hung open and you let out a small scoff in amusement. "What are you talking about? I am not perfect. And Carl? We are just friends. He probably has a thing for you. I promise he does not.... love me."

"Oh please." she said as she lazily rolled her eyes at you. "You have to be joking. He looks at you like you're his whole world. I keep throwing myself at him and all he can look at his your perfect ass."

"I-" you stuttered. You never wanted to hurt Enid.

"Save it. I'm not mad at you. I'm jealous sure. Maybe mad that I can't be you but I could never be mad at you for that." She looked at you gently smiling but you could see the pain in her eyes. "Listen, I can be a real bitch some-, most of the time but I like and care about you. You have been the best friend I have ever had and if giving up my pride so my best friend and the guy I like can be happy together, then so be it. And before you start denying it I can tell you like him too so just get with him and get it over with. I hate watching you guys dance around it."

"Enid, I'm sorry. I didn't want to do this to you." you stared at your lap. "I'd never purposely hurt you, ever."

You fumbled with your hands, a habit you had picked up after the apocalypse. You looked up over towards Carl. You really did love this boy. You could feel tears welling in your eyes. You didn't want to hurt Enid but you wanted to be with Carl. You wanted to feel his hands on your waist as he kissed you. You ached to kiss his soft lips and look into his eye. You wanted to tell him you loved him and to hear that he loved you back. You wanted to hold his hand and never let go. You suddenly realized you were staring when Carl looked back at you with a wide grin on his face. He started to walk over and you realized finally what was happening. You looked over to Enid, slightly panicking.

She smiled back at you then leaned in and whispered, "You got this. You should tell him tonight."

"Hey guys what are you talking about?" Carl said as he stood in front of the couch.

"Nothing important just how we should find somewhere to get new summer clothes most of my clothes are in Y/N's closet." Enid replied lying through her teeth. You smiled at her thankfully.

Carl looked back at you with a concerned look. "Hey Y/N are you ok? You look like you're about to cry."

You were about to cry, but you couldn't let Carl know that. He would ask why and you were not looking to lose your shit in front of this room full of people. "Yeah I'm just really tired." you managed to mumble.

"Oh ok. How 'bout we walk back together? I wanted to go back to the house anyway."

"It's ok I don't want to take you away from the party if you're having fun so I'll-"

"No I want to." he interrupted you. "Please let me."

You looked up at him and nodded. You really did want to leave. You looked over at Enid for approval. You didn't want to leave her in the dust. "Are you gonna be ok if we go?"

"Yeah go ahead. I think I'm gonna get fucked up and make some poor decisions like a bitch." she said giving you a smile and a sarcastic wink.

You rolled your eyes at her with a smile on your face as you let out a snort through your nose. You slowly got up from the couch to stand by Carl and turned around to face Enid. "Ok just don't make too bad of decisions. I'll see you tomorrow. And thank you, for ya know everything."

She scrunched her nose and smiled. You turned around and started to walk out of the house next to Carl. As you walked out the door Carl looked back at you to make sure you were following him. You walked silently next to Carl towards the Grimes house looking down at your feet and wondering if Enid was right about the way Carl looked at you. You looked over at Carl and all you could think about is how much you wanted to hold his hand and feel his soft lips on yours. As you and Carl walked up to the house, Carl turned to you and smiled. "You're still wearing Enid's clothes. I guess she was right about you stealing all her clothes." he smirked at you. "It's ok. You look better in them anyway."

"Thanks." you laughed. "Don't let her hear you say that though. She'll beat your ass."

You made your way up the stairs and towards your room but before you could get there a voice calls your name from behind you.

"Y/N. Hey wait. Can we talk?" Carl asked

You turned around with your hand still on the door knob. Your heart was beating out of your chest. Had he heard your conversation with Enid from across the room? Did he not feel the same? Was he in love with Enid? "Yeah what's up?" you asked trying to sound as cool and collected as possible but your voice still broke imagining the worst.

"I know you aren't just tired. I can tell something else is going on. I see it in your eyes. You know you can tell me anything. I would never judge you." He cupped your face in his hands wiping a tear off your face. "Did Enid say something to you? Was she being a bitch?"

"No no nothing like. Quite the opposite really." you quickly reassured him.

"You seemed fine before you talked to her so if it's not that, what is it?"

You tightly closed your eyes and bit your lip to try to suppress your tears but it wasn't working. "Can we maybe talk in my room? I feel like I need to sit down."

"Yeah of course. Anything." he said as he moved his hand from your arm to your hand and squeezed it tightly. He took his other hand and cupped your face wiping tears away once again. You lead him over to your bed and sit down. He can feel your hands shaking in his hand and he holds them tighter. "It's ok I promise you can tell me anything."

You inhaled deeply and closed your eyes gaining the courage to tell him how much you loved him. Enid's words replayed in your head 'you should tell him tonight' and you finally took your last deep inhale and ignored the pit in your stomach to finally tell him how you felt. "I am mildly, well very upset because of something Enid said but it's not because it was mean. It was weirdly nice and selfless of her to put aside how she felt for my feelings. She told me she was jealous of me and the way you looked at me. She said you looked at me like I was your whole world. I've never noticed it before and part of me thinks she's wrong because I just don't see how you could ever like me. I thought you might have feelings for her because well, she's Enid but there is another part of me praying and hoping that she is right because I ya know like you..." you paused quickly readjusting your words. "You know what no. Fuck it. I'm already this deep in, I love you and thinking for even a split second that there was even the slightest chance that you might feel the same, that you might, love me too made me so happy. I have loved you ever since I moved into your house. I have thought about what it would be like for you to kiss me, and look me in my eyes and tell me that you fucking love me too. You don't have to feel the same way and I am so sorry if I ruined our friendship but when you asked I had to tell you and Enid said to do it tonight so I guess fuck me I did it." you said sobbing.

"Y/N please don't cry." Carl said lifting your chin and staring in your eyes before pulling you in and kissing your lips. His lips were soft and warm. He started gently but deepened the kiss by the second making you feel safe and secure. You had never been happier. He pulled away and placed his forehead on yours with his right hand holding your face and his left still holding your hand. You positioned yourself the same holding him close. "I look at you that way because you are my whole world. I love you more than anything. I have loved you ever since you became part of our group but I never said anything because I thought you wouldn't like me back either. I love you so much Y/N. Please don't ever leave me."

You smile, happy tears streaming down your face, taking all your stress away as they fell off your skin. "Never Carl. I will never leave. I mean it."

Carl kisses you again and finally you are happy. In his arms you feel no harm can come to you. You pull away and look at Carl barely able to contain the cheesy grin you are trying to suppress. There is nothing that could ruin this.

"Hey, can I maybe stay in here and cuddle with you tonight?" Carl asked nervously but he was almost sure of the answer.

You couldn't hold back your grin anymore and you laughed quietly. "I guess so but on one condition."

"What's that."

"You make this a regular thing. You don't get to sleep here only once."

He laughed and replied "I think I can work with that beautiful. You have got yourself a deal my love."

As you drifted off to sleep wrapped in Carl's arm you realized you have never been this happy in your life, not even before the outbreak. Enid had done the most selfless thing she could and now you were laying with the man you loved, warm and cozy.

[astaralys]

Update!

heeellooooooo......? 👀

I may have suddenly remembered I have a tumblr. And that I write Frozen fic. except......

oops.

Short story: I have been incredibly busy but well! I'm healthy! I'm still writing and creating! I hope everyone reading this is doing great!!

Long story:

"girl what on earth have you been doing" Career change, moved house, masochistically started a postgrad degree while working full time, working on original story projects when I have time AND AND AND started a two-person creative studio with @lianthuss!! We have a webcomic oneshot releasing in the coming weeks!! More info on that below :D

"are you still working on TNU??" First of all, thank you for sticking around for this story! The fact you enjoy it means so much to me. I know exactly how frustrating it is to be invested in an unfinished story. I have every intention of finishing the fic, and the thought of it still brings me a lot of joy, which is all I need to keep writing. That said, the honest answer is I've been so busy I haven't worked on it for almost a year now. I didn't even remember where I was up to in the next chapter until I opened it and saw 1000 words (that I now want to entirely overwrite 🥲)

"when do you think the fic will be finished?"

Funnily enough, my mental goal was to have TNU finished before Frozen 3 comes out... and I might still make it! There are (I think) 5-7 chapters left to go, so not far. The question is when I'll have time to write. The second question is what else I'm working on - I have a lot of original story ideas in development that motivate me more than TNU right now. TNU is like my fun corner. I pick at it when I miss it, or when I need a change of pace from other projects. I know it might be disappointing to hear TNU isn't my highest priority and truly appreciate every reader. I do absolutely plan to keep writing this fic, but I'm also having so much fun with original stories and the new studio. I hope some of you will be interested in supporting this other dimension of my creative pursuits too :)

"so tell us about these other creative pursuits" Why I'm so glad you asked! I actually discovered a passion for game development :O I've only made one little one for my partner so far but I have lots of other game ideas brewing that I'd love to turn into reality and share with the world. I'm especially pulled towards concepts that have compelling narratives (I am a writer hehe) that use gameplay to create a story that can only be told in the game medium. (yes, playing Nier: Automata changed my life and you should play it too) And!! I got into 3D modelling and pixel art! Super fun. Please behold this fat chocobo I modelled and got 3D printed

"how do we keep in touch with you before you come back 7 years later and tell us you're an astronaut now" I go by wiredforwords on twitter and instagram. Also just started up a ko-fi if you'd like to support me. Someday soon I'm going to share some free pixel emotes and other updates on there!

nice! now what's this about a studio? and webcomic??

why, I'm so glad you asked!

STUDIO POINT9 is mine and @lianthuss' new baby. It's where we work on and produce our original stories. Our first project is MIDNIGHT HOUR, a oneshot webcomic based on a moment in a larger sci-fi fantasy epic (which will be a webcomic series in the future!) I wrote a 2k oneshot on a whim and lianthuss brought it to life with her incredible storyboarding and art. Coming super duper soon! As in WITHIN ONE MONTH soon!!

We have big plans for STUDIO POINT9 and appreciate any support! You can follow us on twitter and instagram (@studio.point9). Cool website to come!

I'll try to be more active here and not forget tumblr exists. Might be TNU related. Might be random pixel art. Might be studio updates. Might be martians.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for enjoying my stories!!

[zmwrites]

I think I need to know everything about Kell. Please go off.

MY BOY!!!!

ok so Celyn "Kell" Dyer is the oldest 26 year old you've ever met

(he was named Rhys in the WIP intro, but the name didn't work as I started to write so I changed it)

his parents are Arthur Dyer (very successful merchant) and Lilah Trenowyth (merchant ship captain), who were together for many years but never actually married. their relationship ended amicably shortly after Kell was born and Arthur went on to marry Duchess Aldreda after her first husband died. Lilah is still a ship captain and is often away from the Duchy for that reason, living her best life.

when Kell was young he'd split his time evenly between his parents and so knows his way around a ship. on a particularly rough voyage he was seriously injured—he badly broke his right arm & right leg, and sustained a major head injury. there wasn't any way to get him medical attention on time so the bones healed wrong and cause him pain on a daily basis that he takes fancy painkillers to manage. he also gets headaches & migraines easily from the concussion.

fun fact: he's an avid swimmer bc it's one of the few exercises he can do without causing himself pain! this will come in handy later!

(oops this got long. under a cut the rest goes!)

Duchess Aldreda was his step-mother and loved him as her own, but didn't grant him a title per his father's request. when he was old enough, she gave him a voting seat on the Lords' Council, which is honestly the same amount of power as a title but without the land holding. she was injured in battle about a year before the book starts and died two weeks later.

Duchess Eliora was his step-sister and classmate, as they learned politics and tactics and whatnot side by side for their entire childhoods. Eliora was injured in the same battle as her mother and spent a year out of the public eye, her step-father Arthur acting as regent (he hated it and wasn't very good at it, he's a businessman and a father but not a ruler). they thought she was getting better but then she suddenly died.

and now his half-sister Anwen has become Duchess, though she was never supposed to be Duchess and wasn't given as thorough an education. one of Aldreda's advisors (Thomas Ravenswood, formerly named Ezra but got a name changed when I started writing) has been trying to get her up to speed for the past year just in case, but she doesn't have any political experience.

understandably, Kell is Stressed about this. he lost his step-mom and his half-sister a year apart! and now his baby sister is in the same job and is facing all sorts of threats! their neighbour the Vaedian Empire is gathering forces at the border! several of the Council members are trying to manipulate Anwen for their own gain! at least one of them has already betrayed her! he takes his role on the Lords' Council very seriously and invests too much of his self-worth into it (HINT: this will be relevant later).

everything that Kell does is carefully considered and thought out. he's pessimistic, something born out of searching for the worst in situations so he can make contingency plans. he's meticulous about public perceptions and how things could be interpreted. he's smart and so, so protective of Anwen, sometimes to the detriment of others and himself. the other members of the Council want his influence removed so they can manipulate Anwen, since he and Ravenswood are basically the only people looking out for her and Ravenswood doesn't have a voting seat.

and then Jane bursts into his world, and everything goes to shit.

she's SO rude to him the first three times they meet. she's a thief that's been brought into the Lords' Council by a newly returned war hero, so he can't publicly question her presence, but he is already imagining how it could go wrong. she's stubbornly hopeful and refuses to give up even when all logic dictates they should. she can't keep her mouth shut and doesn't care about social rules.

she's literally his worst nightmare.

and then she's drafted into the group trying to find priceless historical artefacts that will supposedly save their asses when the Vaedian Empire invades. (she was a homeless THIEF three days ago, why does no one else question her inclusion here??).

and then they're trapped in an underground labyrinth together, with no known exit, a cave monster, and five trained soldiers who want to kill them for supporting Anwen. with no food or water. and no pain meds. and he fucked up his leg evading the rock collapse that trapped them. and now they have to run everywhere.

anyways i'm very excited to see how Jane influences his personality and what he does when he stops planning five steps ahead in every possible direction.

[impprtante]

Backstory; The Save File

So, I've been playing this save since I've been in middle school (currently in college) on and off again because my interest comes and goes. So since middle school. Originally, had gotten sims and didn't know what to do, and before as a kiddo i watched videos where people design the disney princess and make them do things, there was a certain series but anyways, it facinated me and i thought it would be fun.

(i first tried cc but i kinda get annoyed that things break so i just gave up after like 2 generations.) Anyways, so I make a sim, get a challenge pulled up, first one i find, try and give up on reading the rules for a legacy challenge, and start.

Immidiated i didn't read the first one because i thought adultery was fun as a middle schooler (haha so edgy) and didn't read that technically you're supposed to have Snow White have 7 children with ONE dude. So. Oops. This is exactly when i decided to be like, screw it these are more of a guideline for my game play anyways. This is where i see that the princesses aren't in order of movie release and go "nop i don't care about the storyline they gave me, its going in order >>:("

So a few years go by, i b doin my best, on and off again, and i think aroundddddddd..... Gen 7 Jasmine that my sister (love her <3) got me an in to get all the sims packs (im on sims 4, idk if that needed clarification). Side note: we used to share an account but when sims went free i made an account and transfered my files over (she played less sims than i did at that point but then i got her back hooked whoops). but anyway, SUDDENTLY THERES SO MUCH TO DO AND EXPLORE.

There's so much more cas, theres so many different worlds, buildings, aspects, etc. And suddenly, im actually really sad that my sims of the past didn't get the full experience like that.

BUT, luckily, i had gotten really attached to all my sims early (gen 01 lol) so i had most of the sims backed up on my gallery. In fact, i was so attached to them that i had a lot of different versions of them saved. So i just put them into a seperate world where they could be immortal and live their best lives <3

so there i am, very content to have my two save files. one with the real progression, and one that i've been calling my dollhouse; they're in my toy box, when i feel like playing with them i pop on by and then let them be the rest of the time. But uh, i got a little too invested. and then i realized i had, well. regrets.

I'll make a little seperate post about that later.

but well, i had been writing down quirks and taking pictures of my sims for so long, i have a google drive with just a lot of musing and notes and uploading pictures. I really wanted to write a story based on them, this huge family, because well. I really love them. They're my babies. But i've literally never written anything before. I was a then aspiring writer, stuck writing notes and facts lol. nothing else.

i also had pictures on a drive because i wanted easier access to their appearences, because i wanted to try drawing them out so i could have the scenarios from my head somewhere. I think i was inspired to art because my sister is an artist (she's so good at it) so i wanted to try to draw my dear characters but i literally stopped at Eira lmao (Snow White) i could not do character design. I'll post the drawings sometime, theyre scatted places where i doodled. And i was playing sims on this old computer i didn't feel secure on, in my childhood bedroom so :p, i was in school most days and using my laptop so i tried google drive.

BUT IM TIRED OF JUST HAVING NO ONE TO RAMBLE TO so here we are.

so recently (this summer) i made a NEW world to start inserting them with all the new additions. The primary reason for this was because even though i loved them..... they weren't really characters. They didn't have relationships to them, just my imaged ones. I've a really bad mindset of grinding in the sims instead of being social, so they were actually sorely lacking in personality. Base Game sims 4 didn't help matters. So even though i was picuring and writing, i never got to actually see them interact as childhood besties. They didn't have any random friendships. I barely threw any official birthday parties. So, i wanted to kinda turn back the clock and figure things out.

So, recap: i have a save where i play the "challenge". an old save where i store them, and a new save where im passing them over slowly and storing them.

But now i feel like i have too many thoughts about them to keep to myself so here we are, typing :p. I would keep typing in the google docs but honestly, those were more cynical notes for myself, like disecting a species. I thought a blog would be a good place for like, more informal posts. so, yeah :)

[that-was-anticlimactic]

22 with Zukka for the prompt list? Also hi :)

"Give me a brush. I'll fix your hair for you." + zukka

Zuko was angry.

He supposed that wasn’t that shocking—he was angry a lot—but the amount of genuine anger and frustration he was accumulating due to his hair, now that wasn’t fair nor normal.

It was stupid—he had to attend some dumb public event since he was the Fire Lord and stand at the side applauding politely, then say a few words. Really, he’d been through more stressful times in his life than that.

Even still, there was an hour left before he had to arrive, and he was getting ready in his chambers. Or, he was supposed to be getting ready. He was still in his sleeping robes, aggressively pulling a brush through his hair

Honestly, at this point, he was just beating his scalp.

No matter how carefully or slowly he ran the brush through his hair, it was still tangled. It still looked greasy, and even when he said “screw it” and just threw his hair in a top knot, he nearly chopped it all off because it looked terrible. The bumps at the top of his head were so large it looked like he hadn’t even brushed his hair in the first place!

Logically, he knew that his dad was far far far away right now and would in no way, shape, or form be attending the same event or see said event, but he couldn’t block out Ozai’s voice in his head telling him how big of a disappointment he was due to the state of his hair.

Zuko grunted, throwing the brush across the room and leveling the cursed object with a furious pout. It’s what the brush deserved.

“Hey, Zuko! I can’t decide whether I should wear my cobalt robes or my lapis robes. I know you don’t think there’s a difference, but I swear to you—are you okay?”

The angelic sound of Sokka’s voice caused Zuko’s face to shift from fury to a soft smile. He turned around, his fingers twitching when the brush left his sight because it needed to know how angry he was, and shot Sokka what he hoped was a soft look.

His boyfriend was also wearing his evening robes, something far too casual for the event they were attending, and it took everything in him to focus his gaze on Sokka’s face rather than his shoulder where the fabric was slowly slipping off.

In his hands were two tunics which absolutely looked the exact same color-wise, but he just chalked that up to Sokka being picky about his wardrobe (no, he wouldn’t acknowledge that he was unsure whether it was that or the fact that he couldn’t see properly out of his left eye).

Sokka’s hair looked impeccable, tied tightly in a wolf tail, much unlike his own.

“Sunshine?”

Oh, he’d been staring, hadn’t he?

“Sorry,” he mumbled, running a hand over his face and collapsing onto his bed. “I’m just trying to get ready.”

He watched as Sokka’s eyes flickered between Zuko’s tapping foot, his hair, and the brush on the floor behind him.

His face morphed into understanding and he carefully draped his clothes over the back of Zuko’s vacant chair, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Give me a brush. I’ll fix your hair for you,” he said gently, nudging Zuko’s foot with his own.

“Get it yourself, Lazy,” Zuko muttered, but either way he shifted his position so he could roll onto the other side of the bed and reached, swiping the brush off the floor and tossing the cursed object at his boyfriend.

Sokka poked at him with his finger (and Zuko tried not to melt at the way Sokka tapped in patterns of three—it was the nonbender’s favorite type of pattern, he did everything in three’s. It became Zuko’s favorite number as their relationship developed and became not only a form of comfort for Sokka when he had his bad days, but also for him) until he got the signal and turned so his back was to Sokka.

“Your hair is very pretty,” Sokka remarked, gently grabbing a small chunk of his hair and starting at the edges.

“It’s greasy.”

“No, it’s really not. You know I don’t like touching greasy hair. I wouldn’t touch it if it was greasy.”

They both knew that was a lie—Zuko’s hair was an exception.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong?” Sokka asked, twisting the edges of the now brushed section of Zuko’s hair while separating it into a second section.

“My hair.”

“I got that.”

“It’s not… it’s not perfect…”

And that was it, wasn’t it? The event wasn’t that big of a deal—in fact, it was so insignificant to him that he wasn’t quite sure what exactly it was, but when his hair wouldn’t work the way he wanted, he started getting stiff and on edge.

If his dad saw him like this… Zuko couldn’t help but shudder at the mere thought.

“Babe, Sunshine, light of my life,” Sokka began and oh how Zuko practically melted, “you don’t need to be perfect.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Zuko shot back. “But I do have to be perfect. Everyone’s watching me—I’m the Fire Lord! If I don’t look perfect then…” he trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut and attempting to focus solely on the feeling of Sokka’s fingers in his hair.

“Oh, I get it,” Sokka said softly. “This isn’t about your hair, is it, baby?”

Zuko just sniffed.

“I know I’m not the best person to talk to about being okay with things being imperfect, but something I’ve begun to learn over the years is that there’s never a time when everything’s perfect, no matter how hard you plan… or brush…”

Zuko chuckled.

“But something that you can always count on is me being there; you know I’ll always be there, right? Because I will be,” he continued. At this point, Zuko was certain Sokka had set the brush down and was just using his fingers, which was somehow more comforting despite the slightly uncouth method.

“Besides, you’re already perfect to me. You don’t need to try and please everyone else anymore. Quite frankly, they’re all idiots.”

Zuko laughed. It was quiet and more half-hearted than anything, but it was a laugh all the same. He could feel water beginning to pool in his eyes, and Zuko let out a choking gasp. “Sorry.”

“Shush, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I just… I saw my hair and it wouldn’t—it wasn’t right and I didn’t know what would—“

“Shhh.” Sokka coaxed him into silence, purposefully taking deep breaths along the way to remind him to breathe (which was really helpful since he had forgotten).

“It’s just me. No one else is here—he’s not here. It’s just you and it’s me. And I, personally, think you have the prettiest hair in the entire world, even when it’s greasy.”

Oh, what did Zuko do to deserve someone like Sokka in his life?

Sokka stopped running his fingers through his hair, and Zuko felt the bed shift as Sokka adjusted his position. The nonbender flung his arms around Zuko’s neck, holding him close.

“You’re going to have the best public appearance in the history of pubic appearances today,” Sokka informed him, and Zuko hummed, allowing himself to fall back into Sokka’s embrace. “And if anyone complains about your hair, they may have a run in with my boomerang.”

“Thank you.”

Zuko opened his eyes, allowing his face to fall into its natural frown, but prayed to Agni that Sokka could see the appreciation and adoration in his eyes.

He slowly rose, pushing himself off of his bed and turning so he could see his reflection in the mirror.

His hair it… it wasn’t bad. But it still made his muscles clench and his breath hitch. There were some strands tumbling out of his top knot, falling out of rhythm with the rest of his demeanor.

It was so insignificant, but that’s what Zuko thought when he was younger.

(There was nothing insignificant when it came to Ozai.)

He felt more than saw Sokka stand beside him, and together they gazed in the mirror.

Despite knowing he was being self-conscious, Zuko found himself biting his lip in anticipation as Sokka looked at him. He knew Sokka didn’t think he was disfigured or that his hair was an awful mess, but that wasn’t enough prevent his heart from racing and his fists at the ready to raise to block his—

“You’re beautiful,” Sokka breathed, his eyes so wide that Zuko thought they could contain the depths of the entire ocean, encompass the entirety of the night sky. What made his face flush was that the stars in Sokka’s eyes were directed on him—focused solely and only on him.

“Oh.”

It pained him that that was all he could say. Sokka could compliment him like it was nothing, but Zuko couldn’t do any more than reply with one word.

Sokka frowned and no, that wouldn’t do. Zuko didn’t like when he frowned—more so, he hated being the reason his boyfriend’s smile vanished.

“Are you still…” He cut himself off, his neck jerking and lips pursing, then he waved his hands around for emphasis, as a way to finish the sentence.

Shamefully, Zuko nodded.

Without warning, Sokka grabbed hold of Zuko’s hands and placed them on the top of his head. He intertwined their fingers, almost as if they were holding hands, then started moving them.

For a moment, Zuko held his breath because what was this idiot doing? His hair was the definition of perfection—no strands were loose, he looked regal, the blue and red beads in his hair were perfectly placed… and here Sokka was, guiding Zuko’s hands around his head and messing it up.

Zuko tried to pull away—tried to free his hands from Sokka’s grasp because they couldn’t do this—they couldn’t mess up is hair! The Fire Nation was already terribly critical towards Sokka, being Water Tribe and all, not to mention being the Fire Lord’s boyfriend meant more publicity than either of them were comfortable with… the public would tear Sokka apart if he walked out with messy hair.

“What are you doing?” Zuko hissed through grit teeth, still trying to yank his hands away to no avail. “You’re messing up your hair—I’m messing up your hair!”

Sokka ignored him, but Zuko couldn’t find it in himself to glower at his idiot because his tongue was sticking out of his mouth the way it did when he was concentrating and it was so authentically Sokka and so adorable and—

“There,” Sokka said, interrupting his thoughts. “Now we match!”

It was then that Zuko realized his hands had been released, and he clutched them close to his chest defensively.

Sokka was cheekily grinning at him, his eyes shining, and his hair… oh. His hair was a travesty. His wolf tail became undone and half of it was falling out. The top of his head looked like someone build hundreds of tiny bridges with the way his hair had been tugged at.

As terrible as it was, Zuko was basking in the absolute adorableness of his boyfriend.

“It may not be perfect,” Sokka started, locking hands with Zuko once more, “but we’re doing it together. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Thank you, Penguin.”

Sokka leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Okay, then: should I wear the cobalt or lapis tunic? I feel like lapis is a more luscious color, but cobalt brings out my eyes…”

Most of what Sokka was saying made absolute no sense to him, but Zuko knew Sokka so he knew that his feeling weren’t being brushed aside. Sokka was just trying to distract him—to make him laugh.

So, Zuko sat back down and listened to Sokka ramble about the pros and cons of each color, even though they had to be at the event in half an hour.

Sokka was right (he always was)—it was never about his hair (maybe it was a little about his hair, whenever Ozai was involved, it was about everything). He spent the majority of his life trying to live up to the standards of everyone else—his hair had to be perfect, his back had to be perfectly straight…

The Fire Nation thrived on the idea of perfection. So much so that Zuko knew if Sokka had been born and raised here, he would have been isolated or forced into muteness due to his imperfections, or his tics. It was a terrible thought that was proved true by the looks he saw shot his boyfriend’s way by some elders—from the way that some people would address Zuko rather than Sokka when they were together or ask Zuko why he hadn’t fixed Sokka or what places he took Sokka to to do so.

But they weren’t imperfections, Sokka’s tics. Zuko reminded him countless times that they were just a part of who he was, something that made him as special as he was. And he supposed that’s what Sokka was trying to show him… though through his unorthodox and irritatingly charming methods.

Zuko never did fix his hair for the evening—he wanted to continue matching with Sokka.

[this can be seen as a mini prequel to threshold of eternity hence why zuko gives azula the advice about how to 'handle' her hair and toe kind of inspired this one hehe]

'101 ways to say i love you' prompts

[dmwrites]

“Scar. You have a visitor.”

Scar turned from looking at his elven grandmas to Cub, who was standing in the doorway, holding a clipboard. Scar was pleased to see he was wearing his company-issued headband adorned with fake elf ears.

“Oh? And who might that be?” Scar clapped his hands in delight.

“Mumbo.”

“Mumbo…” Scar hummed thoughtfully, nodding. He sashayed over to a lever stashed behind a flowering vine plant and pulled it up. There was a loud ka-thunk, and huge metal walls came down from the ceilings. The floor flipped from wood and moss into pristine laminated tiles. Cub moved his head slightly to the side as the elegant strings of fairy lights wound up past him and were replaced with industrial LED lights. The windows were gone behind the walls.

“The heads, Scar.” Cub walked over and handed Scar a few cardboard robot heads, which Scar had painted himself.

“Oh yes, of course!” Scar beamed, taking them, and placed one on each of the elven grandma’s heads. “Perfect. Cub, please go fetch our guest.”

Scar did an elven twirl, so when Mumbo walked in with Cub, he was greeted with a suit-wearing Scar. He even had his luscious hair pulled up into a severe bun.

“Mumbo. My favorite investor in the cookie empire. How are you today, my dearest mustachioed friend?” Scar shook Mumbo’s hand with a big smile.

“Hey Scar! Uh…” Mumbo looked back at Cub, then worriedly at Scar. “Scar, not to alarm you, but I just saw Cub over at Gigapies with Ren like a day ago. I think he’s working there too.”

“Oh yes, I know.” Scar flapped his hand. “Cub is working both sides of the rivalry. But he’s also the only one willing to work secretary sifts for me, so what is an elf, I mean man, like me to do?” Scar waved teasingly at Cub. “Ain’t that right, Cubby Wubby?”

“Your company would fall apart without me, and yet still every day I pray for your downfall.” Cub replied just as cheerfully, then he left.

“So, Mr. Mumbo of the Jumbo variety, what brings you over to the cookie factory, hmm?” Scar asked warmly.

“Well, Scar, if you’ll remember, last time I was over here, the cookie factory was looking pretty… nature-y.” Mumbo crinkled his nose in disgust. “I was wondering how you’ve changed since, and I must say, I am thoroughly impressed! The walls are such a beautiful metal! And the floors! Why, this laminated tiles are bringing a tear to my eye! And oh my! Did you get robots?” Mumbo leaned in close to one of the elven grandmas, examining its cardboard mask. “These look so intricate.”

“They were very expensive, so let’s not stand too close.” Scar said smoothly, ushering Mumbo back. “And, just as you suggested, a sign that indicates how many days it’s been since our last accident. It’s been at zero for four weeks now!” Scar chuckled along with Mumbo, and then subtly pressed a button hidden in the wall, which dropped an anvil onto the head of one of the robot grandmas. “Oop! There’s todays accident!”

“Well, Scar, I must say.” Mumbo turned on his heels slowly, taking it all in. “This place looks wonderful. You had a real shithole before, with all that moss and flowers and real people. You’ve sold me! I will invest in your cookie empire! I am a very rich man, after all.”

“Wonderful.” Scar said warmly, taking Mumbo’s hand and shaking it again. “Let’s discuss the terms tomorrow at your place? Maybe with some of that expensive vintage wine you said you had?”

“Oh yes. That stuff.” Mumbo suddenly looked a bit pale. “Yes, of course. As the richest hermit I most certainly have that. See you tomorrow, then!” Mumbo rushed off.

Scar let out a long breath and then high fived himself. “Another one down! Oh Cub, did you hear the news! We got another sponsor for the cookie empire! That’s one less person to shop at the stupid Gigapies, you two-faced angel!”

Cub was writing things down on his clipboard with a furious speed. “As soon as I figure everything out about you, I will take you and your business down from the inside. The food empires will be mine.”

“Oh Cub, you say such sweet things to me.” Scar smiled at him and let down his luxurious elven hair.

“Hello?” There was a cute voice from the doorway. “Scar? Oh, and Cub too! Hi guys!” Gem appeared, looking around in curiosity.

“Gem! Hi!” Scar said, casually leaning over to the lever and pulled it back down. The metal walls rose back into the ceiling. The floor flipped over again to wood and moss. The flowers reappeared, and Scar twirled back into his green elven robes. “Haven’t seen you in a bit, aren’t you looking adorable and elven like me! Welcome to the cookie empire, where we have real cookies made by real grandmas!”

“Wow, really!” Gem’s eyes got big with excitement. “Where are the grandmas?”

“Oh!” Scar cringed and flicked the fake robot heads off the elven grandmas. “Right here! They were just playing dress up!”

“What was all that dirty metal and factory vibes about?” Gem asked.

“Gem, would you like a free sample?” Scar smoothly interrupted, bringing forth a tray of freshly baked cookies.

“Oh, I don’t know Scar. Impulse and Pearl say I’m not allowed to because I’ll get a sugar high.” Gem was already reaching towards a big one.

“Oh, one can’t hurt. Or two. Take three!” Scar smiled down at her. You could almost see the dollar signs in his eyes. “Say, Gem… have you ever invested in a company before?” The two walked away, leaving Cub to scribble even more notes and take the rest of the robot heads off the elven grandmas.

[smallestapplin]

So uhhhhhhh, I sat down to write smut and accidentally wrote relationship-establishing fluff instead? Oops. 

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I promise the smut is coming soon! 😭 My demisexual ass just got waaaaay too invested in the cuddly stuff and I needed to build up to the ~*spicier*~ bits. 

Maybe two more after this so I can give each of the boys their own part? Please accept this humble appetizer in the meantime. 

It’s hard not to panic as the cecaelia rushes towards you eagerly, some sort of inborn fear of toothy predators bearing down on you at high speeds causing your breathing to quicken and your heart to pound. As you start to try and struggle against the limbs restraining you, to back away from the creature swiftly closing the distance between it and you, you feel the arms around your waist tighten slightly. The one behind you shifts, grumbles, and suddenly you can feel the graze of shark-like teeth sliding gently across your skin. It’s not enough to draw blood, or even to hurt, actually, but it’s enough to startle you out of your oncoming spiral. Fight and flight are evidently out of the question - all you can do now is freeze. 

The teeth disappear, replaced instead by a long, thick tongue - too long to be that of a human. It licks, soft as kisses along the same path the teeth had taken, and against your ear you hear a contented sigh. The creature at your back shifts once more, stretching like a languid liepard. Its tentacles coil more securely around you, sliding along your bare legs below your shorts, high enough to graze against sensitive places. You gasp involuntarily. They move again, coiling, slithering up and around and between your thighs, slick and smooth, and your traitorous body shivers in response as the tip of one teases your inner thigh to nearly slip into your shorts. All the while, the creature’s tongue continues to leave little kitten licks along your throat. 

And of course it’s at this moment that the silvery one finishes its enthusiastic journey towards you and finally comes to a stop. It looms over you, grinning widely, and up close you can see that its scales are actually iridescent, like mother-of-pearl, shimmering in the light as the creature moves. Its eyes are like opals, shot through with little glittering flecks of gold and pink and green and blue; it’d be unfathomably pretty if it weren’t for the fact that the whole situation is utterly terrifying. You’re starting to understand, just a little, why all those sailors warned you about beautiful, deadly faces beneath the waves. 

Unperturbed by your aborted panic attack, the cecaelia leans in close to your face. For a moment you’re afraid it’s looking for someplace to sink its shark-like teeth into, but instead it… Sniffs you? 

It buries its nose in your hair, a happy little trill rising from its throat as it inhales long and deep, nuzzling against your temple like it’s trying to scent mark you. The one at your back makes an answering trill, and you can feel it nuzzling into the space between your shoulders. 

(You’re not sure yet whether this is better or worse than what you’d been expecting.)

The one nuzzling your hair finally pulls back with a delighted chirp. This must be a signal of some kind, because the one nuzzling the nape of your neck rumbles in reply and suddenly you’re being lifted into an upright position, pulled into the creature’s lap. It shifts, its arms still wrapped snugly around you; as it leans down and rests its chin on your shoulder, you finally get a clear view of just what’s been holding you. Like you guessed, it’s another cecaelia - black instead of silver-white, tentacles the color of pitch and banded with rusty-red at the waist. The scales adorning its face, arms, and chest are the same kind of iridescent as its (assumed) podmate’s, with shifting colors that make it look like the sheen of lamp oil spilled across water. Its eyes and hair, however, are not black like you would have guessed, but instead that same shade of silver. The eyes are even complete with their own opalescent flecks of red, purple, green, and gold. Again, you think, ethereally pretty if not for the rows of teeth you know are hiding just below in its mouth. 

The creature stares at you with a curious frown, tilting its head to the side. You stare back. 

“H…hello?”

At your shaky whisper, both of the creatures are suddenly alert, the silver one practically vibrating with newfound energy. It claps its clawed hands together, teeth once more on full display. “You can speak!”

You blink. “...Wait, YOU can speak!?”

The oil-slick one at your shoulder makes a sound that might be a purring chuckle. “We can, yes.”

Oh. Oh THIS is weird. You hadn’t expected them to be… intelligent? No, that’s not quite right, they clearly are - very much so, in fact, if stories of their hunting tactics are anything to go by. Human, you think might be more accurate; you hadn’t expected them to be so human. 

The silvery one scuttles closer, butting its forehead against your own. “I am Emmet! We are verrrrry happy you’re awake,” ‘Emmet’ intones - an odd sound when juxtaposed against its (his?) grinning face. “You were asleep for two days, we thought you might not wake up. Ingo and I took turns keeping you warm until you did.” 

‘Ingo’ unwraps his arms from around your waist, but quickly replaces them with his tentacles. They wrap up and over your hips, dragging smoothly between your thighs again; you let out another gasp and unconsciously grind down, seeking friction. 

(You don’t notice the way both cecaelia’s gazes turn just a little bit sharper, the gills along their necks flaring slightly.)

Ingo mimics his podmate’s earlier actions and presses his nose behind your ear, inhaling deeply. His hands make their way upwards, slowly running them up and down the length of your arms like he’s trying to warm you up - not that you need it, you’re suddenly feeling VERY warm. “Our treasure,” he purrs into your ear. (And OH, if that doesn’t cause your thighs to clench around the tentacle trapped between them.) “So beautiful.”

Emmet purrs right back. “Verrrrry beautiful.”

You feel your heart stutter in your chest. Despite the situation, you can’t help but be oddly flattered. How long has it been since anyone’s called you beautiful with such reverence? Has anyone EVER? And other than the brush of teeth from earlier, they haven’t harmed you in any way so far. In fact, you seem to be in pretty good condition for having been dragged out of the ocean and being unconscious for two days. 

Still…

You squirm a little in Ingo’s hold. “Hey, so, not to sound ungrateful, but WHY did you save me?” 

Ingo huffs, amused. “To keep you,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Right!” Emmet nuzzles his nose against yours. It’s cute. “What good is having a treasure if you can’t keep it?” he asks, and it’s sing-songy, like the answer should be obvious. 

Emmet leans back and reaches behind himself and grabs a satchel you hadn’t noticed before, tied to his waist with red leather that matches the stripes around his hips. He scoots himself closer to you more properly, draping yet more tentacles across your legs. Several of Ingo’s own shift out of the way to accommodate him and you can feel them dragging over your suddenly too-hot skin. They travel upward, making room for Emmet’s, and push their way up under your shirt to rest just under the swell of your chest. Your breathing quickens as you become hyper aware of just how many places these two are touching you - so close to and yet so far from where you’d want a lover’s caress. 

They’re beautiful, you think again. And surprisingly sweet. Is this all really so bad?

(And as you think to yourself, two pairs of slitted pupils blow wide, two sets of gills flaring once more as your body’s scent goes from fear to the beginnings of curious arousal.)

You can feel Ingo purring against your back, the rumble strangely comforting. Emmet’s you can actually SEE - the gill slits along his ribs vibrating slightly as he does. He finishes rooting around in his satchel, pulling out an overflowing fistful of glittering jewelry. Holding it up with a triumphant trill, he quickly presents his offering with both hands; four long strings of pearls in different lengths, dripping with deep blue stones. It must have once belonged to royalty, something scavenged from a king’s sunken ship. He eagerly shoves it towards you while letting out a series of excited clicks.

It certainly IS gorgeous - moreso than anything you’ve ever seen before - but you’re not sure what to do with it. And so, confused, you reach out and cautiously take it from his hands with a quiet, “Uh… thank you?” 

Emmet snatches his hands back and claps them together once, a look of absolute JOY etched into his face. Before you can respond in any way, Ingo’s hands come up and cover your own. He guides them up with shaking fingers, (odd, considering YOU’RE the one who should be nervous here) until the necklace is draped across your chest. His touch moves back then, fumbling awkwardly with his claws until the necklace is safely clasped in place. 

They pounce. 

One moment you’re being cuddled and decked out in jewels fit for a queen, and the next you’re squished between two warm, scaled bodies as both cecaelias cling to you, purring loud enough to make your own body shake. Emmet nuzzles you; Ingo’s lips trace along the back of your neck and into the line of your hair. “Mate,” he breathes against your ear. “Treasure. Ours.”

“Pretty human, gorgeous mate~” comes Emmet’s voice from under your jaw where he’s placing little nips and kisses of his own down the line of your throat. 

There are hands on your arms, around your waist, along your sides, dipping so low you can feel the tips of claws skirting beneath the waistband of your pants. You can’t tell whose are whose, too wrapped up in the feeling of your touch-starvation being quelled for the first time in far, far too long, and the whispering realization of what’s just happened. 

The necklace had been a courting gift, and you’ve just accepted a mating proposal. 

Suddenly you’re not in such a hurry to find a way out of the cave.

(To be continued…)

~Spark💥

SPARK BABY PLEEEASSEEE

FUCK THIS IS SO CUTE I LOVE IT SO MUCH THANK YOU, YOU GORGEOUS DARLING!!!

I love your brain💜💜💜💜💜 how wonderful, thank you.

You have nothing to apologize for! The build up just makes it all better!

And this is top tier writing! Ah! I’m just so in love!!!!

(Somebody boutta get drunk and it’s not off liquor👀)

[slightlymore]

oh no, mr suh, please don't spank me

johnny x fem reader

cameo: taeyong

genre: !!smut!!, roommates au, fake enemies to lovers, a little tiny fluffy angst bc it's my brand apparently

warnings: a lot of mutual teasing, finger sucking, sexting, solo f and m, spanking, marking, dry humping, hand job, fingering, slight cum play, not protected, overstimulation f and m, multiple orgasms, penetration, manhandling, oral m and f, tiny degradation (sparse use of ‘little slut’), rough

words: 7K

it’s finally here!! this one is very juicy haha good luck I guess :) keep your panties dry challenge

taglist: @comically-sleep-deprived​ @strawberrymilkandcigarettes​ @theworld-accordingtocasey​ @kibumingi​

_____

"Johnny, get lost." 

You raised your eyes to meet Johnny's peaceful face in the middle of the corridor, one of them still twitching for waking up so early. 

He smirked and didn't move. 

You made a step on the right. 

He did the same. 

"John," you made a step on the left. 

His body kept blocking your way. 

"Why? Are you busy?" His voice was deep and thick like honey and in other circumstances you would have wanted to listen to it forever. But that morning you woke up without a single ounce of patience. 

You sighed and rolled your eyes. "Yes, unlike you." 

"I'm also busy."

"Oh yeah? Doing what?" 

"Getting between your legs."

In spite of everything, you couldn't help but snort once. 

He has been playing that game for weeks now. A little touch here, a little compliment there, but it was the first time to see him this pushy. 

"I told you that I don't want to sleep with my roommates," you walked around him, teasingly hitting his shoulder with yours. 

You weren't surprised to feel his fingers wrap your arm and turn you around. 

"You don't have to sleep with me. I can sleep well on my own. I need you awake."

Johnny let his palm dance on your skin until it got to your throat, his thumb rising slowly and caressing your lips. You gulped and looked down at his hand before locking eyes with him again. 

"You know what I mean," your breath and moving mouth tickled his finger and the twinkle in the man's eyes amused you. You were about to add something else but decided to do something instead - giving him new ideas to continue jerking off to later, since his dick will still be dry for a long time. 

But when you softly pulled his thumb into your mouth, you didn't expect to be the first to get that excited. 

Johnny let out the ghost of a sigh, staring at the way your pursed lips dragged around his skin, the softness of your tongue licking the tip after giving it a good suck. 

"Hm. Knew you were a little slut." 

You chuckled and raised your hands to press them on his chest and push him away before turning around with the intent of leaving him hot and bothered. 

But he was quicker. In a second your wrists were blocked by his strong fingers and his head was shaking. 

"No touching."

You narrowed your eyes amused. 

"Oh yeah? And what should I do for you to let me touch you?" 

His fingers intertwined with yours and if he didn't have that lustful expression on, the gesture would have been almost sweet. 

"Beg?" 

You opened your mouth in a slightly surprised o. 

"Me? Beg? I don't beg." 

Johnny let go of your hands with a smirk and ghosted your chest until getting to the hem of the oversized t-shirt you wore to bed. 

"Stop me," he whispered but all of a sudden you couldn't concentrate on forming words and frankly, you realized you didn’t want to either. 

So he knelt in front of you and slipped his fingers underneath the fabric, revealing your thighs and underwear, pushing it up until exposing your stomach. His breath tickled your skin first then you felt his lips, and when he placed the first kiss you got goosebumps all over your body. Johnny chuckled slowly and palmed your legs as if getting rid of the bumps but it only added to the heightening sensation his mouth was building up. And when he took out the tongue, circling your belly button, you breathed in deeply and grabbed his hair. He liked it since a pleasant grunt formed on his lips, which were going down until meeting the cotton of the underwear, then on one side, tackling your hip with slow kisses. 

Right when you were about to close your eyes and moan, you suddenly couldn't feel Johnny's lips on you anymore. You stared down just to see his annoying smirk, his locks still in your hand and his eyebrow raised upon seeing the little wet patch formed on your panties. 

He got up with a swift movement as if he had finished with all of his to-do list for the day and smiled. 

"I'll go make breakfast," he announced and walked around you whistling.

_____

Said breakfast was being consumed in silence. 

You had to change your underwear because the situation between your legs got too much out of control and when you came back Johnny already made coffee and pancakes. With little glances at his face you wondered how come he was that calm and, the most important thing, how come there was no tent in his gray sweatpants. 

Did he really think he could start a war and win? You scoffed while angrily munching on the last pieces of pancakes. 

"You okay?" he licked his lips after finishing his coffee. 

"Of course," you replied dryly, standing up and grabbing your plate directed towards the kitchen like a tornado. 

"Your vibes are kinda dark though?" he raised his voice for you to be able to hear over the clanging of dishes. 

"Mind your own business," you came back, the violent shift of air as you passed near him almost making his hair swoosh. 

_____

Tight clothes? No, more. Lingerie? Uh uh, more. Naked? Maybe too much. Towel? Fuck yeah, towel. 

Lips juicy, eyes glowing, and the plan was rolling as you stood inside the bathroom, grinning at yourself in the mirror, hands virtually rubbing against each other while physically they were wrapping your damp skin with the towel. 

Hidden behind a corner like a predator about to attack its prey, you waited to hear Johnny's steps coming towards the bedrooms. A little noise, calm and deep, arrived to your ears first. One step forward and the collusion was perfect. 

"Oh, sorry!" you bumped into him, the fabric shifting on your breasts, your fingers prudishly trying to cover yourself and - oops - failing. With hands pressed on your chest, the swell of it was even more visible now, the last drops of water shining on the skin and falling slowly inside the cleavage. 

Johnny remained silent, not even a tiny ‘sorry’ escaping his lips, his eyes completely trained on your body. Then, when you were already tasting the victory on your tongue, he suddenly looked behind you as if not wanting to look anymore. 

You shifted your weight from one foot to another, waiting for a more grand reaction but Johnny kept on a composed face. 

After a few seconds of silence, you were about to leave, lower lip between your teeth as your plan didn't make him go rogue. 

But then he whispered something under his breath and when you least expected it, he pushed you against the wall. The air got knocked out of your lungs making you breathless.  "You like dangerous games?" 

His tone was delicious, lips so close to yours, and you absolutely wanted to drink it all in. And he was right. You did like dangerous games and you also liked to win. 

"Yeah. And revenge as well." You finally smiled as one of your fingers slowly dragged on his chest, smoothing the creases of his white t-shirt. "Am I making you feel some type of way, John?" 

The man scoffed, staring you down. "Not really." 

"You can't even look at me in the eyes though.”

"Eyes? Something else requires my attention now, baby girl." 

The instant delicious burst of pleasure of his hands cupping your now nude breasts and his thumbs circling your hard nipples made your knees buckle. The towel, slowly falling until stopping around your waist, was dangerously close to getting to your feet if Johnny's hips weren't pressed against yours. 

One step back and you'd be naked in front of him and that wasn't your plan at all. 

No, no, wait. You were supposed to make him feel things, not the contrary. 

Then why were you letting him touch you like that? 

"Are you sure you're doing this for me and not for yourself?" Johnny smiled at your light panting and twitching fingers, pressed on his arms. 

"Enough," you whined, mind already blurry, so close to beg him to take you like that against that same wall. 

Johnny stopped and took a step back, his hands quickly going to your hips preventing the towel from falling any further. 

"I don't have to say it since it's obvious. But I've won. Again." 

You pulled the white fluffy fabric from his fingers with a huff and stormed into your room, the echo of Johnny's chuckle ringing in the whole corridor. 

_____

Disastrous. 

You couldn't believe that you got that hot and bothered when Johnny should have been the one salivating and losing his mind inside his room. 

Throwing away the towel you looked around for your clothes when a buzz from the bed made your head turn. 

"Are you touching yourself?" read Johnny's text. You snorted. Unbelievable. 

You weren't going to touch yourself. No, sir. You already lost a second time. You weren't about to give Johnny that satisfaction as well. 

From You: and if I were?

From Johnny: thinking about me?

From You: you wish.

You laid down, face illuminated from the phone and fingers hovering over the screen, somewhat invested in the conversation. But just a little. 

From Johnny: come on. do it.

You rolled your eyes amused and changed his display name. 

From You: you first 

From Evil dick: hm, I love winning though.

From You: you talk a lot for someone that's fucking his fist right now :)

From Evil dick: is this what you're imagining?

From You: yeah 

Johnny read the text and didn't reply anymore. You could not prove that he was taking care of his stiffy but the thought of him doing so made you feel triumphant. Perhaps it wasn't a full win but you could give yourself half a point. Only half. 

Because when you put your phone down, you couldn't stop your hand from sliding between your legs either. 

_____

You needed at least one win. 

Just once, only once, you wanted to see Johnny's honey eyes tremble under your touch. 

And the corridor was your arena apparently since the next day another opportunity arose. Short and quick. 

You smiled at him exiting his room and he smiled back. His lips were about to part and probably ask if you enjoyed yourself the previous night but no sound came out of them as your fingertip gently caressed his chest. It was barely there, a slight touch going slowly down. 

His jaw muscles tightened when you reached his pants and he jolted when you pulled his belt towards you. 

"It was a little crooked," you feigned innocence, your knuckles definitely brushing something that made him inhale silently. 

"I'm making breakfast." You smiled and walked around him, leaving Johnny alone in the middle of the corridor just like he did the day before. 

_____ “That’s not a win.”

You threw your head back on the couch arm, looking at Johnny upside down, the popcorn kernel you were currently about to eat stopped against your lips. 

“That was a win,” you replied. 

The man put his hands on his hips. “You just touched my belt.” 

You chuckled. “Yeah. Apparently that’s enough for you to cum, baby boy.” 

Johnny’s cheeks rose in a tight smile as you licked the salt and butter from your fingers. The look in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed to you and you loved it. His gaze caressed your face and open lips, then your exposed throat and low cut t-shirt. You knew he loved that angle. Could you possibly get two wins on the same day? 

“Want some popcorn?” you asked, handing him one kernel. Johnny put his hands on the couch’s arm, bending his frame down and taking it with his teeth. You looked away nonchalantly as his lips touched your fingers, and you grabbed another kernel for yourself. 

But Johnny was quicker. 

One hand on your jaw, pushing your head back even more, he took it from between your lips in a spiderman kiss. 

You couldn’t breathe for a few seconds, mouth open and skin burning from where his lips touched it. 

When you locked eyes again, you noticed him munching with a little smile. Still hovering over you, a few strands of hair covering his eyes, he swallowed and whispered. 

“I win.” 

_____

“Oh, no, I’m not drinking.”

Taeyong looked at you with the cocktail glass in his hand as if you grew two heads. “Y/N not drinking?” 

“I can’t drink. I’m on duty.”

You were still sitting on the couch in a ball, eyebrows furrowed and concentrated eyes. 

Taeyong took a sip from his drink then shrugged and took a sip from the one he prepared for you too. 

“On duty for what?” he plopped near you making you wobble slightly to the side. 

“War.” 

“On Johnny?” Your head snapped towards his innocent eyes. “You know about it?” 

The boy chuckled. “Want me to give you a few tips?”

He smacked his lips and shifted his weight to be more comfortable, his lids dropping as if about to share some juicy secrets. 

You imitated his position and leaned in to hear better.

“Make him jealous with me.” You blinked in silence a few times then sighed, pushing Taeyong away. “Are you trying to get between my legs too, now?” 

The other continued chuckling. “It was worth the shot. You can try stuff like touching him randomly, then.” You huffed. “You think I’m a newbie?” 

Taeyong sipped from both of his drinks again. “Then what about making him believe he got you so you can attack when he feels powerful?” 

_____

"Oh, no. I have flour on my clothes."

The dough you were working was still sticky so you got a handful of flour that accidentally went on your bottoms right when Johnny made his appearance in the kitchen. 

He looked down and, indeed, noticed a light layer of dust covering your black leggings. 

“Could you please clean them up for me? These are my favourites,” you pouted at him.  

Johnny smiled and sighed, getting closer and slapping your butt once, then twice, then again, until all the flour was cleaned up. 

"There's no reason to be this aggressive, you know?” you bit your lower lip. 

"But you like it this way. Don't you?" 

Another spank and you mewled, the sound making Johnny hum in appreciation. 

“You’re all clean now.” He stepped back and presumably stared at your ass with the excuse of checking for some more flour. 

“I didn’t say you could stop,” you whispered and almost regretted - key word ‘almost’ - saying it as your flatmate approached you again, his sudden dark aura making your skin crawl. 

“You want me to continue?” his voice caressed your ear, his tone highly amused.  

You acted as if gathering the courage to confess that, yes, you wanted him to spank you but, oh no, you were so shy and he was so strong, you couldn’t do it like that and in public!!? oh no, you couldn’t take it. 

“N-no, it’s better if we stop here. I- I don’t think I can handle it. It will make me go crazy.”

Even if not seeing him in the face, you could almost physically sense Johnny’s puzzled aura. Laughing to yourself you wondered what kind of reaction he would come up with this time. 

He didn’t say anything for a few moments and when you were about to turn your head to check on him, you felt his chest on your back and he engulfed your body with his arms as he pressed his hands on the counter in front of you. 

“Okay,” he whispered into your ear. “I’m giving this one to you.” 

_____

From Evil Dick: I can hear your vibrator from the kitchen

From You: I’m not using any vibrator right now From You: maybe it’s taeyong lol 

From Evil Dick: lol From Evil Dick: it’s definitely coming from your room tho

From You: you’re imagining things you wish were true

From Evil Dick: I don’t imagine you getting off on vibrators From Evil Dick: I like to be included in my fantasies :)

You: typing You: deleting You: typing You: deleting

From You: fuck you

From Evil Dick: fuck me yourself From Evil Dick: 4-2 for me

Johnny smiled brightly when you barged into his room. 

He was laying down in the dark, with only the phone illuminating his face. 

“Are you already done?” he asked teasingly. 

You stopped at the feet of his bed with crossed arms. 

“I’m here to fuck,” you announced. 

Johnny remained with his mouth open as his brain processed the information then laughed. 

“I don’t think you will,” he sat up, resting his back on the bed frame. The movement lifted his t-shirt a little, exposing the waistband of his boxers above the sweatpants and his lower stomach skin. 

You didn’t add anything and got on your knees on the bed instead, slowly crawling towards him until getting between his legs. Then you sat on your heels and took away your shirt. 

Johnny followed your frame and his eyes grew wide seeing you naked underneath the falling fabric. You smiled and his loss of words and you imitated his position, sitting in front of him and opening your legs to drape over his. 

“Holy shit, Y/N,” he whispered, eyes trained to where you slowly dragged your fingers. 

Inhaling deeply you closed your eyes and threw your head back, gently drawing circles around your clit before pushing two fingers inside of you. 

“Shit,” Johnny repeated and you whined, the wet sound telling him how you felt. 

“I didn’t say I’m here to fuck you. You can’t touch me nor can you touch yourself. If you do, you lose,” you instructed breathless and Johnny dug his fingers in the mattress underneath him. 

You smiled and bit your lower lip, fully enjoying his expression, his eyes looking as if drinking you in and were making you go crazy. 

But then he smiled too and it threw you off. 

In a second his hands were on your thighs as he pulled you towards him from underneath your knees until reaching the hand between your legs. He grabbed your wrists and blocked them in an iron grip. 

“You can’t touch yourself either.” 

You were breathing heavily, naked and so close to Johnny that you could almost feel the warmth of his body on your skin. 

“What’s with that face, baby girl? You wanted to cum?” he cooed at you. 

You bit your lower lip and shook your head. 

Johnny pouted. “Hm, baby girl can’t even lie well. Are you sure you don’t want to feel my fingers inside of you?”

You closed your eyes. “I don’t.” 

The other pulled you towards him by the wrists again until being able to whisper on your lips. 

“What about my tongue?” 

“Fuck, John, plea-” you interrupted yourself. 

Johnny smirked. “What was that? Please?”

You shook your head again. “No.” 

“I definitely heard you say please just now.” 

Panting and on the edge you considered just not caring about anything and fuck that man on the spot. 

“Truce,” you whispered. Johnny tilted his head to the side. 

“It’s not over and no one wins or loses this time,” you explained. 

“That’s convenient for you,” he teased. 

You huffed and fully sat on his lap, rolling your hips once on his hard cock. 

“I think it’s convenient for you too,” you commented after Johnny’s trembling sigh. 

His eyes grew darker and his hands grabbed your ass, pressing you on himself even harder. Your arms wrapped his neck and you hid your face into the crook of it, trying to conceal your whimpers. 

The rough material of his sweatpants did wonders to your sensitive clit and you didn’t need a lot to start shaking in Johnny’s arms. Your hips stopped as you moaned, digging your fingers into his shoulders but his hands on your waist forced you to go on. The overstimulation felt delicious and you didn’t care what words you mumbled into his ear, jolting every time his cock rubbed on your raw clit again and again. A few deep grunts and Johnny’s erratic movements told you that he was close too. You kissed his jaw then the skin next to it, then the corner of his lips, breathing in the air he breathed out then moaning once as he took his cock out and pumped it in his hand, spurts of warm cum coating your lower stomach. You looked down at the way it dripped between your legs and felt dizzy from pleasure. Johnny read your mind and quickly collected the drops fallen on your clit, drawing circles around it quicker and quicker until he had you shaking for the second time, head fallen on his shoulder and teeth digging into his neck skin. 

You remained like that, breathless and fucked out until you finally could manage to raise your head again. “This never happened,” you whispered and Johnny nodded amused.

_____

You yelped as Johnny’s wide palm slapped your butt unannounced. "John! I'm near the stove!" 

"Good morning," he smiled sweetly as he retrieved two coffee mugs from the cupboard. 

"What if I burnt myself?" you accused him even if you both knew it was highly improbable. 

"I would have kissed the bruise until the pain disappeared," he placed the mugs down and walked around you, positioning himself behind you and trapping you with his arms. One hand turned the stove off and the other danced on your stomach pulling you against him. 

"When will you stop?" you tried to steady your voice since your ass rubbing on your roommate's crotch wasn't exactly calming. 

"When you'll beg," he whispered in your ear with his playful tone. "But I'm not trying to do anything now. You were so caught up into staring at me that you didn't notice the eggs and I'm here to save them." 

You put your tongue inside your cheek to prevent yourself from smiling. Johnny breathed in as if trying to add something else but the sound of a voice made you both jolt. 

"What are you guys doing so early in the morning?"

You almost forgot you had other roommates besides your sworn enemy poking at your back with his cock. 

"Teaching Y/N how to make good eggs."

Taeyong raised one eyebrow at the scene in front of himself. "Yeah. Adding a sausage does make your eggs taste better." 

"Oh my God," you mumbled, turning around and pushing a chuckling Johnny away. 

"Do you want to know my recipe?" Taeyong raised his voice since you were already leaving the kitchen. 

"Two sausages--," then a smack and a fit of laughter as Taeyong promptly apologized for even daring to assume he could add himself into the equation. 

“Come on. I thought you were in a good mood this morning by the looks of that bright red hickey.”

“Yes and I don’t share what’s mine.” You almost stumbled on our own feet in the corridor.  

"I'm out of town this weekend, by the way. If you want to go all out…" was the last thing you heard and the one giving you the best idea for your new plan. 

_____

It was almost two in the morning and Johnny was nowhere to be seen. 

You rolled over on the bed with a huff then kicked the blanket staring at the lingerie you were wearing with sudden disgust. 

It was the weekend and the house was empty - the perfect occasion for you to play with Johnny. And where was he? Probably fucking somebody else. 

You were sick with anger. 

Getting out of the bed - his bed where you waited for him - you stripped out of the sexy lace and grabbed the first t-shirt you found. It was one of his and even though it was clean, it still smelled like Johnny. 

You got back under the covers and crossed your arms on your chest, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed. 

It wasn’t jealousy. You didn’t care if Johnny fucked other people. It’s not like you even fucked properly in the first place. You were just irritated that your plan didn’t work as you wanted it to. 

With an argh you turned on your side and hugged the other pillow, Johnny’s scent engulfing you all again. 

God, he made you so mad. 

_____

The first thing you realized as you woke up was the fact that your room didn’t have a black accent wall. 

The second one was Johnny’s arms around you - one behind your head and the other one thrown around your waist. 

You were sleeping on your back, one hand placed on top of his and the other one on the veiny forearm. With one finger you followed one of them until reaching the bicep then you slowly turned your head to look at him in the face. 

He didn’t close the blinds when he came home last night so the sun was shining brightly behind him, making him look like an angel. 

You smiled for a moment, staring at his calm expression and listening to his regular breath before widening your eyes in horror and snapping out of your sweet thoughts. 

What was that? 

You didn’t care about John Suh and you definitely didn’t care about the way his caramel hair was draping on his forehead. 

“Mm,” his raspy voice accompanied his strong arms pulling you towards him as you tried to slip out of the bed. “Where are you going?” he mumbled, eyes still closed and very much half asleep. 

You sighed and relaxed on your back again without a word and when Johnny rolled you over to face him you didn’t resist it. 

“Did you sleep well?”  “Where have you been?” you spoke on top of him. 

The words, or maybe your tone, made Johnny’s eyes open in an instant. 

You weren’t looking at him, your eyes were low on his chest instead. He raised one hand to cup your cheek with the intent to make you look at him but you flinched. 

“What’s going on?” he questioned. 

You sighed again and shook your head. “Nothing. I’ll make breakfast.”

As you tried to get out of the bed again, Johnny’s arms didn’t want to leave your body. “Y/N. Wait. Stay.” 

His hand got to your face a second time and this time you locked eyes with him. 

“I was out. Like most weekends,” he explained. 

You gulped and nodded. “Good.” 

“No, it’s not good. You don’t seem to like that.” 

You didn’t add anything, neither denying nor confirming it.

Johnny’s eyebrows met in the middle. “You’ve never had a problem with that.” 

“I don’t have a problem with that,” you finally managed to get out of bed and Johnny let you go this time. 

“I didn’t fuck anyone, if you’re wondering,” you heard him say as you walked the few steps towards the door. 

“I don’t care if you fuck people, Johnny.” 

“You do.”

Your feet stopped in place. “I don’t.” 

“You’ve just made the same expression you put on when you claim that you don’t want me to touch you and we both know that’s a lie.” His voice was calm but stern. “Just admit it.” 

You just resumed walking and exited the room. 

_____

It was weird and not something familiar to your gut, but every time you saw Johnny, you felt the urge to either kiss his lips, cry on the floor, punch his face or run away. 

The first was understandable, even if weird; the second one was absolutely weird and you had no idea what the fuck was going on with you; the third was also highly understandable. 

But it was the last one that you chose. 

So when Johnny entered the kitchen you got out. When he opened the door to his bedroom you closed yours. When he sat on the couch, you got up. 

Until he couldn’t take it anymore and barged into your room unannounced. 

“Hey! Knocking maybe?” 

You were on the bed, scrolling through your phone and looking absolutely impresentable. 

“Talk to me.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not in the mood to play right now, John.” 

He walked over and sat on your bed. 

“I don’t want to play. You’re avoiding me.” 

“Look, it was fun for a while, but I don’t feel like continuing the little game we had going on. Let’s go back to how it was before.” Y

ou hoped you sounded convincing to him because you didn’t sound convincing to your own ears. 

Your words did make Johnny put on a sour expression though and you pretended to not notice. 

“Okay,” he said after a moment and you retrieved your phone from the bed, expecting the conversation to be over. 

Yet, when he placed his palm on your thigh your hand stopped in mid-air. 

“What are you doing?” 

He looked down to where his finger slowly caressed your skin, creating little goosebumps all over it. Then Johnny looked up and whatever expression you had on, it was enough for him as he suddenly got up and left the room. 

_____

“Brr, this house is colder than the heart of my elementary crush after he refused to share his food with me.” 

Both you and Johnny ignored Taeyong’s words, busy rolling your peas into your own plates. 

“What happened while I was away?” 

“Nothing happened,” you mumbled. 

“Hm,” the boy commented, munching on his food. “Wait,” he stopped, struck by realization, “ you mean like - nothing - happened? This is why you’re both mad? You didn’t fuck?” 

You rolled your eyes and got up with the plate in your hands. 

“She’s mad because she doesn’t want to admit that she has feelings for me.” 

The bomb that Johnny threw made both Taeyong and you shake in your places.

“What?” you asked incredulously. “I don’t have feelings for you.” 

Johnny calmly put down his fork and looked up at you. 

“Well, I do.” 

You opened your mouth in a silent shock while Taeyong initially gasped then soon after shrugged, whispering under his breath. “I mean, it was kinda obvious in his case.”

“And I don’t like the fact that you think I have space in my mind for other people besides you,” he continued. “Because it’s not true.” 

“Woah,” Taeyong rested his back on the chair as if watching a soap opera. 

“Did you really have to do this in the living room at dinner time?” you asked him after a few seconds of opening and closing your mouth like a fish. 

“Oh?” Johnny raised his eyebrows. “You want to take this to the bedroom instead? Let’s go,” he got up suddenly. 

“Aw, guys, come on. You always hide the funniest stuff from me!” whined Taeyong seeing you leave. 

“You know what I mean!” you replied to Johnny but still followed his quickly moving frame inside his room. He closed the door behind him and crossed his arms on his chest as if waiting for you to talk. 

“What?” you imitated his position. 

“Say something?” 

“I don’t know what to say! What does one say after all of that?” you questioned. 

“Do something? I just said I am in love with-” 

In the end you did something and that something was wrapping his neck with your arms and kissing him deeply. 

Johnny remained still for a moment as if shocked before finally relaxing his arms and tightly pulling your body towards his. 

Your mind was empty and you had no idea what was going on but after a few seconds of tasting Johnny’s tongue you were already thrown on the bed. It creaked under Johnny’s force and you jolted at the way he dragged your pajama pants down. No sexy outfit and no lace lingerie to meet his eyes, yet they were full of such intensity and lust that you realized it didn’t matter at all. Hands in his hair, you raised your bust to connect your lips again. 

“I was so fucking mad you weren’t home that night. I thought I was about to go crazy,” you breathed out while Johnny was palming your torso, lifting up your t-shirt and cupping your breasts. 

“I know. Punish me then. Show me your anger,” he joked.  But his reply turned a switch into your body and you managed to push his chest away from you. He smiled at your reaction and rolled over on his back, letting you straddle his lap. 

“I’m going to tease you so much until you’ll be the one begging me to touch you.”  

Johnny caressed your thighs. “Hm. I don’t need any teasing. You’re breaking me with your mere presence. Please, please, touch me.” 

Your breath got stuck in your throat and you couldn’t see anymore. The grunts leaving Johnny’s throat as you bit into his neck were so hot that you wondered what stopped you from letting yourself hear them before. And when you moved to his chest, then stomach, littering his skin with love bites his muscles twitched under your touch. 

You had no words to describe how it felt to have him inside your mouth. Heavy, hot and so present, you choked only on a third of it. 

“Shit,” you mumbled, taking it out and pumping it instead with your hand. 

Johnny loved it anyways and he looked at you with such intensity that you wondered if you could make him cum with only a few kitty licks. 

“It’s alright. You don’t have to,” he breathed out. 

“It’s alright. I know I have a monster cock and you don’t have to suck on it if you can’t handle being deepthroated,” you mocked him trying to imitate his tone. “Well, I want to and I will.”

And so you listened to Johnny’s airy chuckle, broken by the feeling of your mouth on him again, this time deeper than before. 

“You love a challenge, huh?” 

You would have said that, yes, you loved it and you loved to win, if it weren’t for his cock sliding down your throat making it difficult to talk. 

“Fuck, baby, that’s- oh shit-,” he grabbed your head as you bobbed your head up and down a few times before you couldn’t take it anymore and let it out with a lewd plop. 

“Baby?” you raised one eyebrow at him. 

“You don’t like it?” 

“Do I look like a baby to you?” you smiled with wet lips, your hand restlessly pumping his cock hard and fast. 

Johnny grunted again, his hips rising to meet your touch even more. 

“Hm, no, you look like a little slut right now,” he agreed with a smirk before his expression changed again into, you realized in that moment, the best view you’ve ever seen in your whole life. Head thrown back and completely at your mercy, Johnny came hard, his whole body twitching as his cum spurted on your hand and face. 

“I think I won this time,” you pumped him a few more times before letting him go. “Hm, you drink so much coffee,” you smacked your lips after licking his cum off your fingers. 

“This wasn’t part of the game.” 

“Yeah, well, I’ve just decided that it was,” you shrugged. 

Johnny grabbed his discarded t-shirt and cleaned his stomach. “So, are we playing now?”

His tone got dangerous and his expression made your wet pussy even drippier but you had no time to worry or form a single thought about it since you suddenly found yourself with the face on the mattress instead. 

You turned your head sideways to be able to breathe and Johnny’s hands didn’t even try to be gentle when they pulled your panties down. 

The loud smack arrived before the sensation of his big palm on your asschecks could. When you finally felt the burning sensation, another slap added to that. 

Your fingers grabbed Johnny’s blanket, preparing yourself for the third spank, absolutely not expecting his tongue inside of you instead. 

“Fuckfuckfuck-” you mewled but your sounds only made Johnny more ferocious, hands opening you up, eating you out as if he’d been dying to do so for a long time. And it was true for yourself too, but no imagination of yours could have realistically portrayed the way he was making you feel and no fingers of yours could reach as deep as his did, fingering you fast, tongue not stopping for a second, not even when you violently went over the edge with the loudest moans you’ve ever heard yourself emit. 

“You win, you win-,” your rough throat tried to stop him from torturing your overstimulated clit and you heard him suck on his fingers after he let you go. 

“Okay, I’ll take it. But this is just the beginning. Are you going to let me fuck you, baby?” he caressed your ass, going down to your waist and cupping your breasts. 

The movement made his cock poke at your entrance and you imperceptibly opened your legs even more. 

“Yes, please,” you whispered back, turning your head to meet his lips as he lifted your chin. 

“Hm? Say that again?” 

“Please.” 

His tip easily slipped inside but the stretch still made you hiss through your teeth. Johnny shushed you, kissing your shoulder and neck until he bottomed out. “You can handle it, right baby?” You tried to nod but his first thrust knocked the air out of your lungs and you let your head fall down again with a whine. 

Johnny moved again and again then stopped with a grunt. “Beg a little for me again.” 

You bit your lower lip, his tip pressing right when you needed it to and you wanted him to do it non stop. 

“I don’t think I will beg again,” you whispered with a smile and started to move your hips instead. It was a sloppy and slow job, nowhere sharp and quick as Johnny’s, but you had to win again. 

The man let your ass bounce on his stomach a few times, staring at the way you were stretched around him then he grabbed your waist and left you all empty. 

You whined, clenching yet nothing being inside of you anymore. 

“I said beg.” 

His breath was now on your spine, his wet mouth placing kisses on your skin, making it shiver and taking some of it in his teeth, sucking on it until he was satisfied. 

But you remained silent and he clicked his tongue at your stubbornness. In a single go he filled you up again and this time he never stopped. 

He was breaking you in half and if you hadn’t already had tears in your eyes, this would have been the time to start crying from pleasure. 

“Holy fucking shit--John-” you cried out, breath rhytmically broken by his deep thrusts and when he added his slaps again, you just lost it all, cumming so hard that the neighbors were probably ready to call an ambulance. 

Johnny stopped balls deep inside of you, feeling the way you clenched around him. And when you thought it was over, when you barely started to hear again, he moved as hard as before, shushing you and pressing his fingers roughly into your skin. 

“You can handle another round, right baby? You’re such a pretty little slut with a bigger attitude than she can carry. This is nothing for you.” 

Fucked dumb, you could only nod and Johnny started to lose control himself, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, some drops falling from his collabones to his chest. And when you felt his cum spurt inside of you, you finally begged, repeating it again and again. Johnny didn’t stop and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to move at all the next day when your muscles contracted for the nth time in so little time, collapsing completely after Johnny slowly slipped out of you. 

His breath felt wet and boiling on your face when he dropped beside you. 

He swallowed a few times trying to catch his breath. “Fucking finally. I knew it was going to be epic. Why did you refuse me for so long? Look what you missed.” 

You would have snorted if you had the force so you resorted to just let out a whine. “I refused so I couldn’t see this. I have a big attitude? Well, you have the biggest ego in the world.” 

Johnny turned his head towards you. “And cock.” 

You rolled your eyes and accepted his hands pulling you towards his chest. 

“Ew, you’re sweaty,” you mumbled. He kissed your forehead. “And you love it.” “No,” you denied it, “butIloveyou,” you added quickly. 

Johnny shook your body in a hug. “Hm?? Say that again.” 

“I didn’t say anything!” 

That grown man pouted at you making his eyes wide and glossy. “Please?” 

“Whoa,” you smiled, “are you acting cute at me right now? After killing me with your monster cock?” 

Johnny nodded cutely and repeated the plea. 

“Okay, okay. I-- love you.” 

He chuckled happily and tightened his arms around you again, squeezing you in an almost mortal hug. 

“Again.”

You sighed realizing that you were suddenly dealing with a child. 

“I love you.” 

And you repeated it again and again until you were sure that he finally fell asleep. 

With one hand to caress his face you finally indulged in staring at him, fully realizing what that weird sensation in your gut was. 

“I really love you.” 

Your whisper was tiny and barely audible but Johnny smiled. 

“I know. And I love you too.”

[quickspinner]

Oops - Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3

(See part 1 for summary and warnings)

Marinette was having a hard time keeping her mind on girls’ night. Rose and Juleka had just signed a new lease to move in together in the coming month, and it should have been exciting, but somehow she just couldn’t get into the discussions about decor and whose couch they should keep and how many dishes they really needed.

Marinette had other things on her mind. 

Her phone buzzed in her hand and she glanced at the others quickly before turning it over. 

Sorry, babe, I’ve got a gig that day. Wish I could.

Marinette bit her lip, trying not to be upset. She started to type a reply, when another set of messages came in. 

You could come if you want We could go home together after Just go easy on the drinks this time ;)

Marinette giggled, but sent back You sure? I won’t be in the way?

I’d want you there even if you were. You’re small, we can stick you in an instrument case if we need to

Marinette laughed aloud at that. 

Should I dress up? she typed.

Anything you wear looks good on my floor. Do what makes you happy 

Marinette pressed her legs together, bouncing her knees, and then sent, before she could rethink it, Doing you makes me happy.

There was a long pause before his next message, and then it was just an address and a time, followed by Can’t wait to see you Friday . And Saturday morning. Don’t make lunch plans. 

Marinette gave a little squeal, hiding her face in her hands. 

All of the girls were looking at her with varying expressions. Juleka and Alix looked amused, Rose excited, and Mylène just looked happy for her. 

Alya was looking at her with a slow spreading grin. “Well weeeeell,” she drawled, leaning on the counter between them. “Let me guess. Setting up your next booty call with your new boytoy?”

There was enough truth in that to make Marinette blush deeply. Alya cackled. 

“Details, girl,” she said, slapping the counter. “You’ve been doing this guy for weeks now, what’s the story? He must be good to still put that dopey look on your face after all this time.”

“What—n-no!” Marinette spluttered, looking at the rest of the girls. Juleka was rolling her eyes while Rose and Mylène covered giggles. Alix had that same amused expression as she shook her head slightly. “I’m not gonna talk about that,” Marinette insisted. “It’s none of your business!” 

“Come on, Mari, spill,” Alya said, leaning forward again. “It can’t be that embarrassing. Does he fuck you up against a wall with all your clothes on and call you a naughty girl?” 

Marinette choked, and Alya laughed. 

“Oh, Marinette, you’re such an innocent,” she chortled, sitting back with a smirk like she had gained some kind of victory. 

Marinette’s face burned with both shame and...anger. How dare Alya dismiss her just like that? Like they were still silly teenagers and Marinette couldn’t even talk to a guy, let alone take him home and—suddenly she realized she was tired of Alya’s patronizing, and on top of that, she felt insulted on Luka’s behalf. Taking a breath, Marinette straightened her shoulders and put on the best air of nonchalance she could manage despite her red face. “He probably would, if I asked him to,” she said airily. “But he really likes to take his time for that part.” Summoning up every ounce of the boldness Luka inspired in her, she blurted, “If he wants to make me come fast and hard, he uses his hands.” 

The entire room went silent as they all stared at her. Pretending like she didn’t feel like she was going to throw up from nerves and embarrassment any second, Marinette added dreamily, “He has amazing hands.” 

Alya raised her eyebrows, clearly amused and at least half disbelieving. “Not his tongue?” 

“He’s a great kisser,” Marinette smiled, deliberately misunderstanding. Alya grinned wolfishly. 

“No, girl, I mean when he e—“

“Oh, he’s great with his mouth on me too,” Marinette interrupted, eyes widening innocently. “It’s just, when he uses his hands, he can still use his voice. Mm, he has such a sexy voice.” The shudder that went through her was entirely real. “It makes me so…” she couldn’t quite bring herself to say it, and took a sip of her wine instead.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I can’t believe that you like this guy dirty-talking you,” Alya accused, narrowing her eyes as she set her cup down with a slam. “Little miss sweetness and light. You can’t even handle it when we talk about fucking.”

Marinette shrugged as if she was completely indifferent to what Alya believed. “You don’t say it like he does,” she commented, and took another sip of her drink, staring off into the distance as if she’d completely forgotten Alya was there. She was stretching the truth a bit, she knew. It wasn’t dirty talk, not really, not the way Alya was thinking. Luka didn’t have to be filthy to work her up; he could recite phone listings in that hot, growling voice, and it would be enough to put her over the edge, so when he told her she was beautiful, that he loved the way she smelled or tasted or felt or sounded, or asked what she wanted, or suggested something he wanted her to do for him, or panted out how close he was…

She shivered again. 

Alya didn’t need to know that though. Marinette flicked her eyes around the others, a little nervous about their reactions. Mylène was smiling, Juleka was smirking, and Rose had her hands clasped together and was practically vibrating with excitement. Alix was snickering behind her hand.

“Aw, did Marinette just shatter all your illusions, Alya?” Alix laughed. “You just can’t handle that your oh-so-innocent bestie has a hot side piece.”

Marinette frowned. “Can you have a side piece if you don’t have a...a main piece?”

Alix patted her shoulder. “You can be your own main piece.” 

“Marinette,” Alya said, putting her drink down, suddenly serious. “This isn’t like you. Just who is this guy, anyway? Does he even have a day job?” 

“Yes,” Marinette frowned. “He’s a teacher.” It wasn’t a lie; Luka did teach private music lessons in addition to his performance work, but with Alya giving her that judgemental look, Marinette didn’t intend to give her any details. 

“Ooh, hot for teacher, nice.” Alix reached over and, though feeling a little foolish, Marinette met her high five, but Alya looked unconvinced.

“Well, just be careful,” Alya cautioned her. “You’re still on the rebound—” Am I? Marinette found herself wondering. It didn’t feel like it, actually, when she thought about it. “—and I know you’re feeling pretty vulnerable right now and I don’t want this guy taking advantage of you. If you wanna have fun with him, whatever, but be careful what you tell him and don’t loan him any money.” She sighed. “And especially, don’t fall in love with him. He’s a good time, and that’s it, and he’ll only break your heart if you start wanting more.” 

Marinette just stared at her, mouth hanging open slightly, as Alya turned away. There was a tense moment and then Rose piped up, “All right, are we ready for the movie? Let’s get started!” The girls all murmured agreement and began moving toward the living room.

Marinette put her drink down, 

“Hey,” Alix said, leaning over her shoulder. “Alya’s just trying to look out for you. She didn’t mean it how it sounded, you know that. If you say this guy is cool, I believe you, but it never hurts to watch out for yourself, right?”

“Y-yeah,” Marinette managed a weak smile. “I get it. Sure.” 

***

Marinette was having a shit day. One of her underlings had screwed up at work, which meant, to the bosses, that Marinette screwed up, and then she had to smile and take in the teeth from her bosses while soothing her horrified intern and trying to deal with the problems he’d caused. She’d complained about it to Alya when she got home, and stupidly, she’d mentioned that knowing she had a date with Luka tonight was the only thing that got her through the day. That earned her another well-intentioned condescending talking-to about being careful and not getting invested in something that was clearly only temporary. “I know you, Marinette,” Alya insisted. “He’ll say something sweet just trying to get you naked and you’ll get infatuated and start planning your whole future while the whole time he’s got one foot out the door.” Nino, who’d showed up to pick up Alya in the middle of it, had grudgingly sided with Alya over the whole thing. 

“It’s not really like you, Nette,” Nino said with an uncomfortable shrug. “I mean, I don’t want to be all judgy and weird. I just…well, you’ve...” He’d trailed off and hustled Alya out the door when he saw tears in Marinette’s eyes, leaving her at least with the dignity of breaking down in private. 

She flopped over the arm of the couch and sobbed until her phone beeped a reminder at her. Luka , she thought, touching her swollen face. She couldn’t go out like this. Honestly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to anymore. She just wanted to crawl into bed and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

But she had this date, and…

Alya’s words flooded back and fresh tears fell down her face. Maybe Luka wouldn’t care if she canceled. Maybe…maybe she shouldn’t be feeling so sick about that thought. Maybe Alya was right and she was on the road to another heartbreak. Luka had never said anything, after that first day, about wanting anything more. They weren’t always having sex when they were together, they did other things, but they did always end up in bed eventually. But that didn’t mean anything! Right? Maybe—Marinette sighed. Maybe she didn’t need anything else to spiral about tonight, thanks so much, Alya. Why wasn’t she allowed to just have fun without Alya telling her what was best for her? She enjoyed spending time with Luka, and yeah, he made it clear he enjoyed all the... intimate things they did, but that didn’t mean— 

Focus , she reminded herself, wiping her eyes again. She still had a date tonight that she was in no condition to go to, and if she didn’t call soon Luka would already be on his way to meet her. 

She took a couple of deep breaths to steady herself and called him.

“Hey, beautiful, what’s up?” Luka asked, his smooth voice light and cheerful.

“Hi,” Marinette squeaked, and then gulped down a sob. Shit, she should have texted, she sounded awful.

Luka’s tone shifted immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asked. 

“N-nothing major, I just...I had a really bad day and...I don’t think I’m up for our date tonight. I’m so sorry, I know it’s really last minute, I hope you haven’t left yet, I just—” She caught a tear on her hand and wiped it away, trying not to sniffle into the phone.

“Of course it’s okay,” Luka said, his voice low and soft. “Don’t force yourself, it’s fine. Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No,” Marinette choked, her throat tightening again. 

“Okay. Well, how about if I grab some takeout and bring you dinner? I can pick up something for your roommate too if you like.”

“Oh, you don’t—you don’t have to do that. Alya’s out with her boyfriend, I’m not sure she’s even coming back tonight. I mean, you don’t have to pick up anything at all, I can just scrounge something, I'll be fine, I think we have some...some ramen or something I can make…I’m not very hungry right now anyway.” Ugh, she was a babbling idiot, why hadn’t she just texted him.

“Late lunch?”

“No…” Marinette frowned, trying to think. “I don’t think I ate lunch.”

“Thought so,” Luka chuckled. 

“B-but—I—“

“I don’t have to stay if you’d rather be alone,” Luka told her, his voice so full of sympathy that she wanted to cry all over again. “But at least let me bring you something to eat. It’s not like I had other plans. What’s your favorite food to cry into?” His tone turned teasing. “I can at least bring you some real ramen instead of the instant stuff, if that’s really what you want.” 

Marinette bit her lip, picturing for a moment the congee she used to get at the shop by her old office. She loved it, because it reminded her of her mother’s, but she hadn’t had in in ages because they didn’t deliver to this part of town, and—

“Anything you want,” Luka told her softly. “Come on, what are you thinking about?” 

“It’s out of your way,” Marinette said, shifting on her couch. “I...give me just a second, I’ll think of something, um…” 

“Marinette,” Luka said, a touch of amusement in his voice. “Just tell me what you want. I’m all over this town for gigs all the time, a few extra subway stops won’t kill me.” 

She told him, and gave him directions. 

“Okay. I’ll go pick it up and be there as soon as I can. You take a nice long bath or a shower, or at least wash your face, okay? Get comfortable for a night in.”

Marinette smiled a little at his prescription, and whispered, “Okay.” She sat there a few minutes longer after they hung up, trying to gather enough caring to get up and do as he suggested. Finally she made it up off the couch, and drifted into the bathroom.

She cried more in the shower, but she did feel better after standing in the hot water, which at least relieved some of the stiffness and stinging of her face and eyes, and helped her breathe easier. She sat on her bed wrapped in her towel for a long moment, feeling limp and languid, but if she was sitting here naked when Luka showed up, he’d probably think she wanted some other kind of comforting, and she just wasn’t sure she felt like it tonight. She dug out one of her more modest nightgowns, made of thin, soft fabric that fell to her calves, with wide straps and a shallow scoop neck that covered most of her chest. It was still pretty, because Marinette liked pretty things, but it wasn’t seductive or anything like that. 

Not that she was in any condition to seduce anybody, she thought, as she pressed her fingers below her aching eyes. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to let Luka come over. Would it hurt his feelings if she made him leave the food at the door?

Marinette had almost decided to do just that when she heard him knock. She paused with her hand on the doorknob, and then sighed. Well, if her puffy, blotchy face and stuffed up nose grossed him out and he didn’t want to see her anymore, then at least that would be one less thing for Alya to bitch at her about, she thought as she opened the door.

Luka’s expression shifted from concern to sympathy as soon as she came into view. “Aw, come here,” he said, reaching for her as he stepped inside. Marinette let him wrap his arm around her and leaned into him as he squeezed her. He kept her under his arm as he walked to the table, where he put the bag of food down and then turned to embrace her fully, folding her in a tight hug, as he swayed slightly and rubbed her back. It felt amazing, actually, and Marinette pressed her face into his chest, inhaling his scent and enjoying the firm feel of him, warm and solid. 

“You want to eat at the table or somewhere else?” he asked. 

“Couch?” she mumbled into his chest, and he steered her over to it. 

“Sit down then, and I’ll get it all ready.”

He brought her the bowl a few minutes later, sitting down next to her as he made sure she had a grip on it before he let go. “Do you want me to go?” he asked, tucking a damp lock of hair back from her face. “Or would you rather have some company? I won’t be offended, if you’d rather be alone.” 

Marinette looked up at him and opened her mouth, and then changed her mind, looking down with a blush. “Actually some company sounds nice,” she mumbled. 

Luka smiled, and leaned forward to kiss her temple gently. “Let me grab my food then.”

When he returned with his plate, he sat next to Marinette and put his arm around her shoulders. Marinette cuddled against his side, tucking her feet under herself. She admired the ease with which Luka balanced his plate on his knee as he ate, but then from some of the stories he’d told her she supposed he was probably used to eating in weird places

The congee felt good on her raw throat, and she ate almost the whole bowl before she sighed and set it on the coffee table to snuggle more firmly against Luka’s side. He’d already finished, and he put both arms around her. She told him a little bit about her day, leaving out the details of the argument with Alya, and Luka made sympathetic noises and kissed her forehead. 

Alya’s wrong about him , Marinette thought, tucking her face against his neck. He’d never treat anyone the way she thinks, even if it was only physical. He’s too sweet. And I don’t...I don’t think that’s what this is. I think...maybe he really meant what he said at the cafe. Maybe he still does. She took a shaky breath, and Luka’s face turned a little closer to hers, so she knew he was listening.

Marinette chickened out. “Could we...maybe get in bed and watch a movie?” 

“Sure, I’d love that.” Luka smiled. “What’s your favorite thing to watch when you feel crappy?”

Marinette blushed. “You’ll laugh.”

Luka grinned. “So what if I do? If you like it, that’s all that matters. Be selfish tonight, Marinette.” 

Luka followed her to her bedroom, and his eyebrows shot up when she produced a dusty old DVD with a picture of a bus on it. “Speed?” he said, sitting on the bed, and then bit his lip. He held up a finger, turned away from Marinette, and buried his face in her pillow as he laughed. Marinette grabbed her other pillow and whacked him with it. 

“I told you you’d laugh,” she pouted as Luka pushed himself up and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I love Keanu Reeves.” 

“Give it here, and get comfy,” he told her, getting up. Marinette gave him the movie, and he put it in as she tossed the blanket back to the bottom of the bed and got under the sheet. Then she had an internal panic attack as Luka kicked off his shoes and socks and shimmied off his jeans. Oh, maybe she should have—but he’d never have been comfortable if she made him stay dressed, and it didn’t mean they were going to…Stupid, they could have stayed on the couch, why did she invite him to bed?

Barely thinking, Marinette caught the hem of his shirt just before he went to pull it off. “Can you...leave it on?” she asked, and blushed when he looked at her quizzically. “I really like cuddling with you but I...I just—”

“Just?” Luka asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Never mind, it’s stupid,” Marinette sighed, letting go, and feeling like an idiot. “You should be comfortable.

“So should you,” Luka said, sitting back down on the bed. “I can wear a shirt if you want, it’s no big deal.” He reached over and smoothed back her hair—now mostly dry, thankfully. “Is something wrong? You know you can tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable.” 

Oh, she was the worst. He was so kind to her and she was the worst , and how could she admit anything like this to him? Marinette hung her head, and told a truth that wasn’t the truth. “I just...don’t like it when our skin sticks together,” she confessed, and then put her hands over her face. “I’m so sorry. Forget I said anything. I’m being stupid.”

“I’m not forgetting anything,” Luka laughed, sliding under the sheet beside her. “Why are you acting like you did something wrong?” 

“It’s...not very romantic,” Marinette sighed, wrinkling her nose. 

Luka rolled his eyes. “I’d rather you be comfortable than preserve some imaginary aesthetic that no one but us would even be aware of. I don’t mind wearing my shirt or keeping the sheet pulled up if it makes you more comfortable.” He slid down a bit, and stretched his arm out towards her.  Marinette snuggled up next to him again, and sighed contentedly as she rested her cheek against his chest, glad that he wore a soft, slightly worn t-shirt instead of a crisp dress shirt. 

“Comfy now?” he asked, his hand sliding up to massage the back of her neck. 

“Mm,” she agreed, and leaned into his touch with a hum. Eventually they slithered down to lay flat in the bed, Luka curling against her back with his head on her pillow, murmuring sly comments about the movie every now and then that made Marinette giggle, and occasionally reach back to elbow him when she thought he was getting too far out of line. No one, she told him, dissed Keanu in her bed. 

“Yes ma’am,” he agreed, laughing into her hair before he kissed the top of her head. Marinette smiled. 

It was nice, having him snuggled up against her, his teasing voice in her ear, and Marinette’s mood was lifting with each passing moment. She found herself focusing on his broad hand resting on his stomach, his breath tickling the back of her neck, and the warmth of him behind her, the brush of his chest against her back when he breathed. Heat began to pool low in her belly, and her breathing quickened. She pressed back a little, just enough that her back was resting against her chest now, and Luka nuzzled her neck, placing a little kiss below her ear before settling again. Marinette sighed, annoyed with herself. Here she had been worried about giving him the wrong idea, but now that she was comfortable and relaxed, she was starting to change her mind. 

Marinette sniffed experimentally, and found she was breathing much better. She shifted slightly, biting her lip, and then rolled over to face Luka. He blinked at her a little sleepily, and then he smiled. “I’m glad you didn’t revoke my bed privileges. I’m really comfortable right now,” he murmured. “You look like you’re feeling better.” . 

“I am,” she said, and wiggled a little closer, her body already warming at the thought of his touch. She leaned up and kissed him, and any hesitation she’d still been feeling vanished at the soft feel of his mouth against hers. It seemed to wake Luka up too, because his hand went to her face and he returned her kiss with equal enthusiasm. Marinette caught hold of his shirt, and tugged him closer when he would have leaned back. “Can I be selfish, Luka?” she breathed, and felt him shudder as she kissed him again. “Even after all you’ve done for me? Can I ask for more?”

“Always,” he rumbled, rolling up onto his elbow to follow her as she kept tugging on his collar, wiggling to get beneath him. She gasped as he pressed against her, and arched her body up into his, suddenly feeling desperate. Had he been turned on this whole time and said nothing? Alya is so wrong about him. 

“Comfortable , huh?” she teased, and Luka grinned sheepishly.

“I was,” he defended, “Mostly. I can ignore it when I have to, and you didn’t seem like you were up for much.” He kissed her softly.  

“I wasn’t,” she admitted, and then rolled her hips up into him. Luka groaned, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as he grabbed at her hip, and her own eyes closed in pleasure. “I am now,” she sighed. “Please, Luka.” She shivered as she felt the fabric of her nightgown bunch under his big hands, the hem sliding up her calves and over her knees. 

Alya was wrong about him, Marinette was sure, looking up into his eyes as he bent down to kiss her gently, but thoroughly. He only broke the kiss when he finally found the hem of the nightgown. “Can I take my shirt off now?” he asked teasingly as he dragged the nightgown up over her head. Marinette made a muffled sound. “What?” he laughed, but his laugh cut off when she pressed her hips up into him again. 

“I said, yes please,” she told him smugly as he reached back for his collar.  

Marinette settled her arms around his neck and pulled him down into her, eager now for the press of his skin against hers. Luka’s hands carded into her hair, tipping her face to the perfect angle as his mouth descended on hers again. She spared one fleeting thought fr Alya’s warnings before she gave herself up to the moment.

Alya is wrong about Luka...but she might be right about me. Maybe I am falling in love with him. 

***

The movie menu screen had been playing for a while when Luka finally picked up the remote and turned the tv off. “I’m going to grab a drink,” Luka said, kissing Marinette’s jaw. “You want something?” 

“Yes, please,” Marinette sighed. “I don’t think I can move yet.” 

Luka chuckled and kissed her again. “Be right back.” 

Grinning to himself, Luka stopped to pull his boxers and jeans on and made his way to the refrigerator, leaning down to find the water bottles he knew were tucked into the back for him. He’d gotten picky about water on the road, so Marinette, thoughtful as always, kept a few bottles of his favorite brand for him. He grabbed one and cracked it open, taking a long gulp, and then bent to reach in and grab the filter pitcher to make a glass for Marinette. 

“Excuse me?”

Luka jumped and straightened, and turned around to find a woman standing in the apartment doorway, lit from the hall behind. She had one hand on her hip and the other on the doorknob, where a set of keys was still hanging. 

“Hey,” he said, shutting the refrigerator door. “You must be Alya. I’m Luka. I’m Marinette’s—ah—” He’d almost said boyfriend, but he wasn’t, technically, and he suddenly realized he had no idea what word to use. “Friend,” he finally finished lamely, acutely aware of how the word hung between them as he stood there half-naked and disheveled. He lifted the water bottle to his lips again, still parched. “Sorry, we didn’t realize you were coming home tonight.” 

He turned to get a glass from the cabinet, and felt Alya’s eyes on him as he poured the water for Marinette and put the pitcher back. He glanced up and, as he suspected, the look she was giving him was not one of appreciation. Luka had seen that look before and knew that she was seeing the dye and the piercings and the tattoos and not much else. He waited for her to say something, but when she didn’t seem inclined to, he shrugged. “Well, it’s nice to meet you,” he said quickly, and then made his way past her and back to Marinette’s room. “I’ll let Marinette know you’re home.” 

He shut Marinette’s bedroom door behind him, blowing out a breath, and then looked at the bed. 

He forgot about Alya for a moment when his eyes fell on Marinette, looking relaxed and blissfully happy, one lovely shoulder and her feet peeking out of the sheet she had tucked around herself. He could still see the marks of her earlier breakdown on her face, but she looked at peace now. 

If he hadn’t already been sure he loved her, he didn’t think anything on earth would have saved him from falling in that moment. 

Luka brought the water over and set it on her nightstand, then leaned over her to set his on the other one. Marinette smiled dreamily up at him, and he bent down and kissed her gently. She smiled against his lips.

“Your mouth is cold,” she told him, and giggled. 

“Yours is hot,” he teased, kissing her again, a little deeper. Then he sighed. “Your, um...your roommate is home,” he told her, half-regretting it as Marinette stiffened instantly. “I kind of ran into her in the kitchen.”

Marinette bit her lip, looking up at him as a blush lit her face. “Oops,” she murmured, and then giggled in a way that said maybe she wasn’t all that sorry. Laughing, Luka all but tackled her, pressing her back into the pillows as he kissed her messily, moving his lips to her neck and collarbone when she tried to squirm away from him. 

“What was that for?” Marinette giggled, pushing lightly at his chest until he propped himself up on his arms. 

“You are criminally hot,” he told her, smirking when the red tinting her cheeks darkened. “Especially when you blush.” Always when she blushed, but especially now, looking so ravished and yet so sweetly pretty, shy and shameless at the same time. 

He leaned down and kissed her again, more gently, and she hummed against him, kissing him twice more when he would have pulled away. 

When she finally let him sit back, he asked, “Do you want me to leave?” 

“No,” she said with determination, slipping her hand around the back of his neck and pulling him back down into another kiss. “Come get back in bed with me.” 

Not at all unwilling, Luka shimmied out of his pants and crawled over her, slipping under the sheet and tucking it around his front before laying an arm down in invitation. Marinette shifted over to him, and Luka shivered when she moved the sheet away from between them. Instead of settling her head down on his shoulder, she kissed his chest, and his neck, and pressed herself up against him. “I don’t think you’re as done as you led me to believe,” she whispered with a teasing smile. 

“Well not anymore.” Luka grinned up at her, shifting onto his back in answer to the press of his hands on her shoulders. “Feel like scandalizing your roommate?”

“Believe me, it’s her turn,” Marinette huffed, climbing on top of him, and looking up at her pretty face with smiling lips bruised from his kisses, haloed by mussed black hair he couldn’t wait to tangle his hands in again, Luka promptly forgot anyone else even existed. 

Later, he was nearly asleep, curled around Marinette with the sheet tucked between them, when she whispered, “Luka?”

“Hmm?” he blinked his eyes open, though he couldn’t see much. He felt her tense, though, and moved a hand to her arm, rubbing his thumb along her skin. 

“I think I’m falling for you,” she finally said, the sentence half a sigh as the air rushed out of her. 

Luka froze for an instant, completely awake now, and he felt Marinette flinch and tense. Quickly he pressed his lips to the back of her neck, and slid his arm around her waist. “Let me know when you’re sure,” he murmured against her skin. “I’m waiting at the bottom to catch you.” 

He felt her sigh and relax, and then she rolled, scooting up close against him and pillowing her head on his shoulder. Luka held her, rubbing her back softly, and turned his head to bury his face in the pillow to keep himself from screaming. 

On his way out in the morning, Luka gave Alya a broad grin and a two-fingered salute.

***

“Girls, we have a problem,” Alya announced, plopping into a chair and slamming her to-go cup down on the table.

“Good morning to you too, Alya,” Alix muttered, face propped on her fist. “What the hell is it that you needed to talk to us about this early?”

“I met Marinette’s boytoy last night.”

Blank stares from around the table. Alya sighed. “The one night stand? The guy she’s been fucking every night she had free for the last month and more?” 

Alix raised her eyebrows. “Still not seeing the point. So Marinette’s getting laid. A lot. Good for her. Wasn’t it your idea for her to get back out there in the first place?” 

Alya slapped the table. “That’s just it! She’s not out there! She’s hung up on this dude and my point is that this isn’t like Marinette. You know she can’t just do random hookups. This has been going on for a month straight and you know she’s going to catch feelings, if she hasn’t already. And that guy, he—he’s not Marinette’s type . He’s got tattoos and piercings and dyed hair and his clothes are practically rags!” 

“Sounds hot,” Alix observed, and Alya rolled her eyes. 

“It’s not Marinette , and he’s definitely not the type who’s looking to settle down with one girl. He’s going to fuck her until she starts wanting more and then he’s going to break her heart. If we’re lucky. If we’re not, he’ll string her along with a bunch of promises, probably cheating on her the whole time, and then really break her heart. This isn’t the kind of relationship Marinette wants!” She waved her hands around for emphasis. “Marinette wants a house and a picket fence and a—a hamster. She needs husband material .” 

“It does seem like Marinette wouldn’t be satisfied with a purely physical relationship,” Mylène said hesitantly. “But are you sure this man is no good? What if he does like Marinette?” 

“They could totally fall in love! Opposites attract, you know!” Rose added, hooking her arm through Juleka’s with a giggle. “Maybe all Marinette needs is somebody a little bit different to take her mind off...you know. Him .” 

“Rose, there’s different and then there’s different, ” Alya sighed. “Some different is okay, but picking up punk guys in nightclubs is a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“Mkay,” Alix sighed. “Even supposing we agreed with you, and I’m not saying we do, what would we even do about it?” 

“What we need is a distraction,” Alya said, tapping a finger on the table as her brow furrowed in thought. “Someone who can get her mind off of her fuckbuddy and back to thinking about kids and hamsters.” 

For a moment the girls sat in silence. 

“Well,” Juleka said slowly, as heads turned toward her. “There’s my brother, I suppose. He just got back into town a couple months ago.”

“Oh, that’s true!” Rose exclaimed, laying a finger alongside her cheek as she thought. “Ooh, that could work, Juleka. I mean, if Marinette and this guy are in love, then she’ll just be making a new friend, right? And if Alya’s right, then there’s no harm in just introducing Marinette to someone else.”

Juleka shrugged. “Hard to say with him though, whether he’ll be into Marinette. He’ll either get bored or fall hard. He likes creative types—“

“That’s definitely Marinette,” Alix said dully.

“People who are honest—transparent, even.”

Alix snorted. “Also Marinette.”

Juleka was looking even more thoughtful. “People who don’t back down, who think outside the box...yeah, we could try it.” She shrugged. “Don’t know what Marinette’ll think of him, though.”

“He is very handsome,” Rose pointed out. “Not much like— you know , but that might work in our favor after everything. He looks a little bit like Keanu Reeves, and you know Marinette loves him.” 

Juleka snorted. “He wishes he looked like Keanu Reeves.”

“They have the same vibe,” Rose defended. 

Juleka just shook her head. “Well, if Marinette’s into ink and piercings and the whole bad boy look right now, it shouldn’t be a problem, anyway. Dumbass looks like the rough type but he’s a total teddy bear. Best of both worlds, I guess.” 

“Okay, I’ve heard enough,” Alya declared, clapping her hands. “Plan A. Juleka and Rose are throwing a housewarming party.”

“We are?” chorused Rose and Juleka.

“We’ll invite Marinette, Juleka’s brother will be there, we get them together, and they hit it off, and she kicks her loser booty call to the curb. Problem solved.” Alya nodded firmly. 

Alix dropped her head onto her arms. “What’s plan B?” she mumbled. “Seems like this whole plan could fall apart if they end up not liking each other.”

Alya waved a hand dismissively. “We’ll figure that out after we see how this one goes. I’ll have thought of something before the party.”  

***

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Marinette said, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear as she folded her laundry. “I didn’t expect to hear from you today. I thought you had plans tonight.” 

“I do,” Luka replied. “I just have a few minutes and I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” Marinette frowned. “What?”

“Well, I had a very interesting conversation with my sister today,” Luka told her, and she could hear amusement in his voice. “She invited me to a party later this week. Said there’s a friend of hers she’d like me to meet. Thought we might hit it off .”

“O-oh,” Marinette managed, dropping the shirt she held. “Really?” Insecurity flooded up and threatened to drown her. Aside from that one late night conversation, they hadn’t really revisited their relationship status. She hadn’t had the courage to bring it up again. If Luka wanted to meet someone else, he was still technically free to do so, but...but she’d thought...

“Yeah, maybe you know her,” Luka laughed. “She’s in your field, after all. Some hot-shot, up and coming designer named Marinette Dupain-Cheng .” 

“Oh. Oh. ” Marinette’s eyes widened, and then she frowned. “Wait, do I know your sister?”

“Well, that’s what I called to find out.” Luka snorted softly. “Know a Juleka Couffaine by any chance?” 

“Juleka?” Marinette shrieked. “You’re related to—how did I not know that? Why didn’t she ever say anything? Why didn’t you?” She racked her brains, thinking back. 

“Mm, generally we’ve been busy not saying other things. Gotta say Jules hasn’t exactly been on my mind when we’re together.” His low chuckle made Marinette blush. 

“Right.” Marinette blushed. “And I suppose I never mentioned your name to her, and Alya just calls you—” She stopped, embarrassed.

“What?” Luka asked, humor in his voice.

“My, um...boytoy.” Luka laughed uproariously, and Marinette began to giggle again. “Or sometimes things that aren’t quite so nice. She thinks you’re not good for me. Because...because of how we met, and all. Um.” She took a breath, hesitating, but then remembered that awful feeling just moments ago when it seemed like the floor had dropped out from under her, and decided it was time to put everything on the table. “She thinks you’re just in it for the sex, and I’m going to get invested and end up getting hurt.” 

“Oh, I see.” Luka drawled. “As if I haven’t been head over heels for you since the moment I saw you.” Marinette blushed, and bit her lip, but Luka went on before she could say anything. “I get it. Sounds to me like your roommate’s trying to set you up with someone who’ll take care of you. Get you away from that sex-crazed loser that’s seduced her poor little innocent bestie.” 

Marinette buried her face, phone and all, into the throw pillow next to her and giggled until her sides hurt and she was gasping.

“Are you done?” Luka asked, still sounding amused, when the giggling finally subsided. “Or do I need to send someone over there to administer oxygen?” 

“I’m fine,” Marinette snickered. “Listen, Luka, my friends are having a party next week and I’ve got this weird feeling they’re trying to set me up. Will you come be my date to Juleka’s party? Maybe—“ She steeled herself and took the plunge. “Maybe if I introduce them to my boyfriend , they’ll back off.

There was a moment of silence. Marinette forgot to breathe.

“I’m going to need you to say that again when we’re in the same room,” Luka said, voice deliciously deep and husky, “So I can kiss you properly. Can you come over?”

Air rushed out of her. “Aren’t you busy tonight?” she asked, and smiled at the sound of his laugh. 

“Not anymore.” 

“Are you sure?” she teased. “I thought you had plans.” 

“Consider them cancelled,” Luka told her, “Get your gorgeous ass over here.” 

She did, and after she had said it again, after the kissing and the other soft words, after the more-than-kissing, they cuddled close, happy, sated, and basking in their newly upgraded relationship. Marinette felt Luka stir and prop himself on his elbow.

“You know,” he said, his breath washing across her cheek. “I’m thinking about this party the girls are planning.”

“Do you still want to go?” Marinette asked, reaching up 

“Absolutely,” he said, and then his voice dropped, making her shiver slightly as he nuzzled her ear. “But why don’t we make things a little interesting.”  He whispered his plan in Marinette’s ear, and she began to giggle. 

***

Juleka sighed as she looked at their new apartment, cleaned and decorated without a scrap of cardboard left in the place, and gazed with exasperated fondness on all the little finger sandwiches and appetizers Rose had spent all day making. Luka had better appreciate this, she thought, as she pasted on a smile and started letting in the guests that began to arrive in ones and twos. Well, at least Rose was happy. Any excuse to bust out the glitter and craft paper and try out all these super cute recipes she found on Pinterest.

Juleka was genuinely happy to see Luka, though, when he finally knocked on the door. Her schedule had been packed lately, which was great from a career standpoint, but she hadn’t seen as much of him as she wanted to since he’d come back from his travels. She felt a little guilty that it had taken Alya’s plotting to get her to make room on her schedule to see him. 

Well, hopefully she was about to make up for it.

“Hey, Jules,” he said, kissing her cheek and then Rose’s. “Congratulations on the new place.” 

“Thanks,” Juleka half-smiled, all the admission she was willing to make that she was glad to see him. She was pleased to note that he’d listened to her admonishments and dressed up. He looked nice, in a black dress shirt open at the collar and jeans that were mostly intact. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the tattoos on his arms, and the dye in his hair was bright and fresh. Good. Maybe he had half a shot with Marinette, if he didn’t open up his big mouth and screw it up. 

“We’re so glad you could make it, Luka!” Rose squealed, throwing her arms around his neck. Then she drew back with a dismayed expression. “Oh, but she’s not here yet.”

Luka shrugged. “That’s okay, I’m in no hurry. I meant to tell you, I’ve...actually been seeing someone, to be honest.” He had the grace to look sheepish, and winced at the way Juleka’s eyes widened.

“What?” she asked sharply, and then smacked his arm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Luka shrugged, and Juleka’s heart sank at the stupid grin that spread over his face. “We weren’t really official until just a few days ago. After we talked about this. I don’t think I’ve put my guitar down since then except to pee, so…I kinda forgot.” 

“Gross,” Juleka muttered out of habit. 

“Oh,” cooed Rose, clasping her hands together, before grabbing Juleka’s arm and shaking her lightly. “Ohhh, he looks so happy!”

“I am happy,” Luka grinned. “Really, really happy. She’s amazing, I’ve never met anyone like her. It’s maybe too soon to say it, but...this could be it, you know?”

Juleka felt a little sick. She hadn’t realized she was so invested in setting up Luka and Marinette, but the crushing disappointment she now felt said she was. She liked Marinette a lot, and she loved Luka more than almost anyone else in the world, and the more she considered the idea of them together, the more she thought it could work. Even though she had told herself (and Rose) not to get her hopes up, she absolutely had. 

But Luka was practically glowing, so Juleka swallowed the sick feeling and told him she was happy for him. And she was, really. She had to be happy about anything that made him smile like that. As much as she would have liked to have Marinette for a sister, she wanted Luka’s happiness over all. 

She wasn’t looking forward to dealing with Alya, though. Focus. Luka was looking at her with a little hopeful half-smile on his face and Rose would kill her if she crushed his enthusiasm.

“Well, when you’re sure we won’t scare her off, bring her to dinner.” Juleka punched his arm lightly. “I have to meet the lunatic who would date you.” 

“Sure, sounds good. So, is there a tour?” Luka asked with a grin, and Rose bounced on her toes before grabbing onto his arm and tugging him further into the apartment. She gave Juleka one commiserating glance behind his back before she began introducing him to the small gathering of friends in their modest living room. 

Juleka sighed and stationed herself back by the door to head off Alya when she came in and warn her. 

The next person to show up, though, was Marinette, which was a bit surprising. She was supposed to be coming with Alya, and she wasn’t nearly as late as she usually was. Juleka felt like pouting as she looked over Marinette. She was dressed up too, in a chocolate brown dress that hugged her figure nicely to the waist, covered with a sheer lace overlay that ran up over her neck and shoulders. The skirt hung to her knees in sheer layers edged in scallops of pink lace that were piled thick enough to cover everything important, but thin enough to tease. Her hair was loose and flowing around her shoulders, and she was smiling so cheerfully, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. She’d have been the perfect bait if the trap hadn’t already been sprung. Dammit, Luka , Juleka thought grumpily. You’re missing out, dumbass . 

“I brought cookies!” Marinette said breathlessly, holding up a cellophane-wrapped platter. “You can keep the plate, I got it for you.” 

Juleka mumbled her thanks, smiling at the combination of cookies shaped like roses and black bats on a platter that matched their new dishes. “Thanks, Marinette. That’s really thoughtful.”

“Of course,” Marinette grinned, bobbing on her toes a little. “I’m so excited for you guys!”

She looked so genuinely excited that Juleka had to smile. “Most everybody is here already,” Juleka told her, waving her on into the apartment. “Rose is in the back showing some people around, but she’ll be back up in a minute. Wine?” 

“Please,” Marinette said gratefully, and Juleka poured her a glass. “You did a great job of blending your styles, it looks so pretty in here, but, you know. Juleka pretty and not just Rose pretty. I really like what you did with the curtains—” 

Juleka let her ramble on, glancing at the clock now and again. Alya and Alix were due any minute and she had to head Alya off before she did anything...pushy. Luka didn’t like pushy. Marinette drifted into the living room to chat with some other friends—and damn, the front of that dress might be all sweetness and light but the back was really sexy. “Damn it, Luka,” Juleka muttered with a frustrated sigh. “This girl better be fucking incredible.”  

Luka was just following Rose back from the spare bedroom the girls were turning into a combination craft/music room, when he caught sight of Marinette chatting with a few other people in the living room.

Rose saw her almost at the same time, and gave a little squeal. “Marinette, you made it!” 

Marinette came to hug her, and Luka waited while they exchanged pleasantries, trying to keep his cool so he didn’t give anything away. Finally Rose remembered he was there and turned to him, tugging Marinette forward a little. 

“Oh, Marinette, this is Juleka’s brother Luka!” Rose chirped. “Luka, this is Marinette, the friend we were telling you about.” 

For a moment, they just looked at each other. Just long enough to give Rose pause. Then...

“Hi,” Luka said, grinning down at her. 

“Hi,” Marinette murmured, smiling up at him. 

 “You look good enough to eat,” he told her, settling a hand on her hip and tugging her closer. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rose’s eyes widen and had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“Is that a promise?” Marinette winked, and the tremble in her voice said she was about to laugh too. 

He bent down and she pushed up and they met in a passionate kiss. Her arms went around his neck (she remembered just in time not to dump her wine down his back) and his hands found her back—which was mostly bare, he realized as he felt warm skin under his hands. The noise he made wasn’t very dignified but it would only add to the show; he slid his hands down her back and onto her ass. Just to really sell it, naturally. No doubt she was kneading his chest and shoulders for the same reason. 

Damn, she even tasted like chocolate, the little minx. He’d be willing to bet she did that on purpose.

Beside them, Rose practically had to stuff both fists in her mouth to keep herself from screaming. She looked around and grabbed Mylène’s arm, shaking her as Rose hopped up and down. 

“Rose, what is—oooohhh,” Mylène’s eyes went round as Rose spun her around to face the kissing couple. Rose leaned down and began to hiss excitedly into her ear. “Wait, slow down— what? ” Mylène slapped her own hands over her mouth and looked at Rose. 

“ I know!!” Rose whisper-squealed, reaching up to tug at her short hair with both hands. Both of them looked towards the door, where they could see Juleka letting in Alya and Alix.

“Marinette gave us the slip,” Alya said, rolling her eyes. “Something about needing to pick up a card or some nonsense. She’s looking good, though, which is a good thing for us, right? She’s got this cute little brown dress with pink and she looks like a chocolate strawberry macaroon.” 

“Wait till you see the back,” Alix grinned. “Just these two lace panels that meet between her shoulderblades and the rest is bare. Seriously hot. I’m totally begging her to make...” She trailed off as she looked at Juleka’s face. Juleka sighed.   

“Listen, Alya, I need to tell you—” Juleka began, but Alya interrupted her, her face scrunching up as she looked at something over Juleka’s shoulder.  

“Oh you’re kidding me, I can’t believe she brought him. What is she thinking?” Alya demanded, grabbing Juleka’s arm. “How could you let him in?” Juleka raised her eyebrows, but before she could say anything, Alix had leaned around them to see what Alya was looking at.

“What now?” Alix grumbled. 

“Marinette brought her boytoy,” Alya spat, frustrated. “I can’t believe her.” Juleka nearly laughed at the irony until connections started snapping together in her head. With a feeling of dawning horror, she paused and turned slowly to look behind her, just in time to see her brother sticking his tongue down her friend’s throat. I’ll kill him , she thought. “No wonder she didn’t give me any pushback when I suggested she dress up a little,” Alya muttered, but Juleka barely heard her. 

“Nice,” Alix said, still leaning around Juleka to see, eyebrows raising in appreciation. Then she frowned. “Hold on, isn’t that—” 

At the same time, Juleka blurted “Wait,” and Alix broke off as both she and Alya turned to look at Juleka, who had gone pale. “ That ’ s the guy Marinette went home with? The guy she’s been banging every chance she got since—”  A look of horror crossed her face. “That’s who she’s been telling us—oh, gross. ” She put a hand over her mouth, sure she was about to vomit. “Oh my God, I don’t know what I did to deserve this but I deeply regret whatever it was.” 

“Never mind all that, we have to find a way to get him out of here before your brother shows up,” Alya hissed. 

Juleka groaned and put her face in her hands. 

Alix began to laugh. “I do feel sorry for you,” she told Juleka. “I really do. I definitely wouldn’t want to know any of that about my brother.” She paused, and made a face, turning slightly green. “Oh God, did not need that mental image, and mine’s not even real.” 

“I’m gonna hurl,” Juleka mumbled. “I can’t believe I have to live with this knowledge.”

Across the room, Marinette broke their kiss long enough to ask, breathlessly, “Think they got the point?” Luka glanced up and began to laugh into her hair as she nibbled his collarbone. 

“Juleka’s face is priceless right now.” He dropped his head and licked her neck, before moving his face up to whisper in her ear. “If we don’t get out of here right now I’m going to bust a gut and ruin everything.” 

“Then by all means, let’s go,” she giggled. “Tell me the next time they look over.” 

Luka glanced up. “Now.” 

Marinette slipped her hand between his legs and squeezed, making him jump with a “whoa.” 

“Sorry. Too much?” Marinette whispered. 

“Not if we’re leaving right now,” he grinned back, and let Marinette take his hand, giving him her best bedroom eyes as she backed towards the door, tugging him along. He didn’t even have to feign the dopey look on his face as he stared back at her. As they passed the knot of her friends, all staring saucer-eyed at them, she waved at them.

“Thanks for inviting me, Juleka! Sorry I have to bow out early, but um...I have something to take care of,” Marinette giggled, handing her wine glass to Alix as she kept towing Luka towards the door. He smirked at Juleka and winked.

“I’ll text you about dinner,” he called over his shoulder, laughing, and then grabbed Marinette’s ass just before they stepped out of the door.

“Holy fuck,” Alix muttered, still gaping at the door. “Was that really Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” She began to laugh. “I am so fucking proud.” 

“This isn’t funny!” Alya hissed. “This is a disaster!” 

“Oh, it’s hilarious,” Alix gasped, barely able to breathe, and Rose and Mylène nodded, both giggling. Rose squealed, bouncing on her toes. 

“This is amazing, I can’t believe it, it’s like fate or something—”

“I’m not sure that’s how fate works.” Mylène was trying to hold in her laughter for Alya’s sake. “But they certainly seem happy together.” 

Juleka, still looking a little green, put her hand on Alya’s shoulder before Alya could retort. “Look, it’s fine. You don’t have to worry about her. Luka’s the only person on the planet who’s a bigger sap than Marinette. If he’s into her, he’s all in.” Remembering the way Luka had been glowing when he’d talked about his new girl—when he talked about Marinette —she managed a tiny smile despite her nausea. If Luka got his way maybe she’d have Marinette for a sister-in-law after all. 

It was wiped away a second later as Alix guffawed, “Oh, she loves him being all in,” and Juleka groaned. 

“I need alcohol now ,” she grumbled. “I am going to give him so much shit in the wedding speech to make up for this.”

***

Outside, Luka and Marinette got to the elevators, and then collapsed against the wall in a brief fit of giggles.

“That was brilliant,” Marinette laughed, squeezing Luka’s arm. “I’m so embarrassed but it was so worth it, did you see Alya’s face?” 

“Juleka’s gonna kill me,” Luka chortled. “I can’t wait. Come here.” He pulled her close and kissed her, softer and more carefully than he had inside, and Marinette hummed with pleasure. Not that she hadn’t been enjoying their sloppy makeout, but this was more Luka’s style, and since she loved Luka, she—Marinette paused, and pulled back to look at him, biting her lip as he blinked and smiled softly at whatever he saw in her face. Marinette took a breath.

“I love you,” she said, keeping her eyes on his, though her pulse hammered in her veins. She hadn’t thought his eyes could get any softer, but he looked at her as if she was the greatest treasure in the world as he cupped her cheek and laid a soft kiss on her lips.  

“I love you too,” he said roughly, and gathered her up in his arms, squeezing her tight, lifting her off her feet as he squeezed her hard. 

Marinette giggled into his shoulder. “Poor Alya,” she muttered. “So wrong and so right at the same time.” She pulled back and kissed him again. “Take me home, before someone catches us making out in the hallway.” 

“Too late, dudes.” 

They both looked up, and Marinette’s mouth fell open as she saw Nino stepping out of the elevator with a pained expression. “Does the phrase get a room mean anything to you guys?” 

“Oh,” Marinette ducked her head sheepishly. “Sorry, Nino. By the way, this is Luka. He’s...Juleka’s brother?” 

Nino blinked, and then groaned. “Oh, shit.” 

Marinette giggled. “We’re um...we’re leaving now. Uh...Alya might be a teensie bit—” She held up her pinched fingers. “...stressed?” 

Nino rolled his eyes, but reached back to catch the elevator door for them before it closed. “Guess I’m on damage control,” he sighed, but with a grin. “Come on, get out of here.”  Needing no further encouragement, Marinette pulled Luka into the elevator. “Bring him to dinner or something next time,” Nino called as he let the door close. “We can’t keep meeting like this.” 

In the elevator, Luka and Marinette looked at each other. “Oops,” she whispered, and they both broke down laughing. Luka hugged her close, and Marinette sighed. “You know,” she mused. “As far as mistakes go…” She smiled up at him. “You’re the best one I ever made.” 

[absolutebl]

This week has been kind of an unplannedly thoughtful week, but there's one more and might be the one most worth to share.

These two OOP little hardcover blocks arrived in my mailbox Monday this week:

You have exactly one guess about due to whose ominous latent salesmen powers these are here now. =P

... is what this should have been all about and nothing more. Until I actually had them in my hands and things just became a bit contemplative.

I didn't seek them out specifically, I just coincidentally saw a manga bundle auction listing including them, but the moment I saw it I was suddenly kind of quite invested about wanting to win it. Which is because while I had all sorts of reservations about watching the drama adaption (which still remains entirely unrewatchable for me due to the bad hair) I made a peculiar observation: I had really wanted to like it. So I checked the manga out instead, as the opportunity unfolded by chance.

And also had just happened to have just started watching I Told the Sunset About You.

Taking a little detour to your posts on that one: I'm entirely with you. All those suffering sob stories (as I call them) are exhausting. For the same reasons. For me, just less so because they depress me, but rather that they just annoy me.

I also vastly prefer the HEAs now, but that took a long, long detour from viciously hating them first. Because with having been every bit textbook aroace as you possibly could be (had there been a textbook) the message those narratives put out was just about always:

"See, this is happiness and you being an oxymoron to it has nothing to do with the world, society or anything but you being too dumb to solve an equation as basic as 1+1."

And then I spent my teens and most of the decade after as a somewhat disgruntled cumulonimbus.

Looking back now, Seven Days actually kind of marked the end of the first half of those two decades. The German paperback release was very hotly anticipated at the time, quite the notorious best seller it also got a hardcover re-edition 5 years later. (Although the license appears to have expired by now, so everything is OOP.) Its hype reached way beyond the infamous fujoshi-niche crowds and garnered attention from quite a spectrum of other audiences. Critiques were across the board positive, and even the reserved ones sounded more like desperately trying to find fault in it just because it was hyped (or because it was BL).

What I however found there was a bundle of utter incomprehensibility. What do you mean 7 days are enough, because the first only took 1? That's not even enough to judge a person's compatibility for a deeper friendship, much less something that's supposed to last you a lifetime?? Whyever Seiryo are you praising this list of notorious traits about the other Yuzuru, when, clearly, you were just pretty hurt by it? And why the hell do you believe that Yuzuru, where did any sense of plausibility go to? And what's this weird box full of sentimentalism to begin with? The critiques weren't any bit less bewildering. It's apparently awesome for being a very singular BL that isn't about porn, rape/dubcon or teary ukes and all I thought was "What, that's the barometer to judge things? What sort of asinine genre is that??" (ahahahaha…), others were saying they didn't think it was bad, but also went on to argue, that this was only hyped and famed because it was BL, you could replace any of the dudes with a girl and get a super bland average typical romance plot nobody would ever throw a fuss about. Which got back argued as to how sheer outrageously novel a healthy relationship depiction like this was even across all romance, because it was characters on equal eye level, and I was just frowning again. It's not that diamond levels rare with male+female? It just more often happens in these mostly obscure narratives where the female isn't a completely brain-damaged dumb moron whose only worth seems to be obnoxiously produce bubbles, flowers and sparkles fawning over that cool guy? And which titles are across the board are struggling to survive due to bad sales here? Why is hardly anyone paying attention to those? But most of all: You almost make it sound like unhealthiness is the norm. If so, WHY ARE YOU ALL DOING THIS TO YOURSELVES? Are you all masochists or what? Oh wait, Seiyo realized he probably was one and was very happy being that. Is that what this is about??

After that I just figured, hey some people just hopelessly suck in math and will therefore dislike the poor subject and rant about it no matter what, failing to see its beauty. I just happen suck ass the same way in biochemistry. Fine. Whatever. I'll keep my hands off you. There are better things to do than this headache or annoying you any further with my silly questions whose answers never make enough sense to sink in. So I ditched the volumes and shelved the entire topic, was in peace with myself, and that was that. Or should have been. The next decade soon came over and was like: "What, you thought you could just ignore us? We're more omnipotent and unavoidable than the tax office, with an even higher sacred degree of existential self-justification of necessity. And no, unlike taxes, you can't just hire a consultant to do the obnoxious job for you." Before I knew it, I was struck with some sort of cheese allergy and exposure to most of all HEAs just inspired a "Can I have a voodoo and a hammer please?" mood. Took a while to notice and undo again. (Not that I liked the suffering sob stories any bit better all the while, but at least I usually didn't feel quite so intellectually insulted by them...)

When watching ITTSAY at first, curiously enough, the most descriptive thing that popped into my mind about the experience I was having was your "ho boy am I finding it rough going". Which was quaint, because even with cognitive empathy, and the show's mastery in the craft of inducing it, this shouldn't be so strong. The series has absolutely nothing that hits home. Not even remotely close. Until I noticed that your "the opposite of nostalgia" hit my notes perfectly, too. Just flipped over another axis: With it being about the experiences I never had and never are going to have like that. But even then that also seemed just bizarre, why would you ever miss an experience of such unhealthy suffering? Until I had this Oh-moment when I stared at the covers of the books. Because then you can also overcome it. (This makes as much sense as Pipi Longstocking's "You have to go to school/work before you can have vacation.")

But that's kind of the enjoyment I got from reading Seven Days again after over a decade. It's all still very much not me. (Probably.) But it's not incomprehensible anymore. Same for all the critiques. And I'm not having any cheese allergy over it. I can stomach it not only just fine, I even actually quite like it. ITTSAY is like a fresh pineapple fruit that is arranged and served in all sorts of artful, intricate ways to please the eye. Its taste is a juicy, well-rounded blend of sourness and sweetness on a clear texture, but you really can't eat it too much and often. Not because it ceases to taste, but because of its tongue burn properties. Seven Days is like a handful of raisins. Very simple sweetness. Strong, but still organic. Not with too much complex flavor substance to it, so you can't eat too much of it without it starting to go bland. But this handful of it is exactly something you can down at almost any time of any day as a comfortable little snack in between that's always going to feel a lot more healthy than any candy or chocolate bar or fatty chips.

... erm. TL;DR, What I mean to say is just

Thanks for reintroducing Seven Days into my life. I wouldn't go as far as to say I needed it as a marker to tell I've moved on, since I already knew that. But getting to have such a bookend epilogue to the last decade again with the same thing is surprisingly nice to have. (And just such a wild unexpected coincidence timewise since my cheese allergy was just freshly bested for good end of last year.)

And fingers crossed that you'll reach that headspace to safely watch ITTSAY one day.

Meanwhile, I'm rather seriously wondering if there will be a third Seven Days bookend. Which will be all about: Will I ever get over the bad hair? (It's freaky how fast and resolutely any sort of bugged feeling I had about ITTSAY was entirely drowned the moment I finished it and started Last Twilight in Phuket and saw the hair therein. Mercifully, it didn't stay as terrible/plot irrelevantly terrible in I Promised You The Moon. But Ouch.)

Here is me, having exchanged the Cheese Training regiment for Hair Training. An upgrade, I guess?

What a fascinating read -- the interweaving of media and life and understanding both of the pieces of pop culture and your relationship to it.

It made me think of those other pieces of media, the ones we consume when young and then rewatch but actually hold up under later examination, maybe because of the nostalgia, maybe because of actual persistent quality.

[wiltingofthewhitelily]

{Hetalia Platonic Ships Week 2021} Day 4: Sleepover - Poland & Belarus

A/N: Submission #4 for @hetaliaplatonicshipsweek!

Next up is Poland and Belarus! Nothing much to say here...I just hope you guys enjoy, as this was another one of my favorites!

»»————-　➴　————-««

"Pleeeease Bela, c'mon! It'll be like, so much fun!"

"No. I'd rather ride home in the middle of the night than have a dumbass fucking sleepover with you."

It was the early hours of a Saturday night and, after having spent all day long at Poland's house getting a manicure as well as a haircut and eating dinner, Belarus was now literally being tugged at the bottom of her dress by a very stubborn Poland, who was begging her to stay the night for a sleepover. "C'mon," the blond man continued to plead with his brows furrowed and his lips pouted. "Please?" That's when he gave her the most pathetic 'puppy eyes' that the Slavic woman had ever seen.

As much as she didn't want to stay the night and as annoying Poland was being, Belarus still let out a heavy sigh of defeat (though it didn't come without a huge eye roll and a scowl). "Okay. Fine—you win. I'll stay the night."

Poland's entire mood changed then—he jumped into the air cheering and twirling, a wide grin on his face. "Yay!" he rushed up to Belarus and gave her a big, crushing hug.

Belarus was a bit startled at this, given how small Poland was. "Hmph...okay. You can let go of me now," she said, her voice hushed and cramped due to the hug.

Poland pulled back a little, a large smile still on his face. "Oops. Totally sorry about that. I'm just like, so excited!"

Belarus rolled her eyes again. "I'm sure you are."

In a flash, the Pole grabbed the Belarusian by her wrist, which made the woman gasp in surprise. "C'mon, Bela!" Poland urged. "I wanna pick out a movie for us to watch."

"Do you really have to tug me like this?" she hissed, trying to free herself from his grasp.

"Um, yes," Poland said, "or else you'll run away."

Belarus paused, her expression going quizzical. Touché, she thought to herself.

Soon enough, the two were sitting on Poland's couch, both with big bowls of popcorn in their arms and soda cans scattering the coffee table. They were watching some chick flick—which Belarus didn't expect to enjoy in the slightest (she usually watched either horror movies or documentaries in her spare time)...but, oddly enough, she actually found herself getting invested in the movie. Not in a good way, mind you—she and Poland just spent the majority of the time making fun of the main character, this basic blonde bimbo girl who was just about as dumb as a box of rocks. Belarus actually found herself cackling at some of the comments Poland made about her, though she tried to keep her enjoyment as hidden as possible (though it grew increasingly harder the farther the two got into the movie).

Finally, the movie ended; once it did, Poland clapped and quickly picked up the remote to flick it off.

"That was the worst fucking movie I've ever seen," Belarus said bluntly. "But...it was kind of fun to watch."

"Right?!" Poland responded, looking at her. "It's like...so bad it's good, y'know?"

Belarus nodded a little. "Yeah."

Right after she'd said that, Belarus cringed internally, just knowing that Poland would tease her now for admitting she'd actually had fun. And sure enough, he did. "Sooo...you did have fun!" he exclaimed, scooting closer to her. "Right? Right?"

Belarus quickly put a scowl back on, holding her hand up to block Poland's face. "Yes, I did," she admitted. "But it had nothing to do with you. I could've had just as much fun watching that on my own."

She knew that wasn't true, as Poland had provided most of the funny commentary throughout the movie, and the man himself seemed to see right through her denial. "Yeah, sure," he said.

Belarus didn't respond, just drew her knees up to her chest and looked away from Poland.

It was silent for a minute, until suddenly, Poland threw a leftover piece of popcorn right at her. She didn't realize what exactly he was throwing at first and began to say, "Hey, what the fu—" However, she was interrupted by another piece of popcorn being thrown at her. She looked at his face then, which had grown a sly smirk. He threw some more popcorn at her.

Belarus' dour face fell and a smirk replaced it. She reached into her own popcorn bowl. "Oh, it's on." She began to throw pieces of popcorn at him as well.

This grew to the two of them throwing the rest of their popcorn at each other—and then small objects, and then eventually a full-blown pillow fight, using the small decorative pillows on Poland's couch. The man giggled and screamed wildly as Belarus sat on top of him, beating him with a pillow. "N-No!" he stammered. "Please—" a loud laugh "—stop, stop!"

"I shall never have mercy on you," Belarus declared, slamming the pillow into his chest once more as he continued to laugh and try to fight her off.

This small game continued on until both of their faces were red and they were panting, slumping on the couch exhaustedly. Poland was the first to speak. "So," he asked as he looked over at Belarus, still panting slightly, "do you wanna like, get into pj's now?"

Belarus was automatically going to answer yes, until she realized something. "I didn't actually bring any pajamas," she said. "You forced me to sleep over last minute, remember?"

Though the last bit was clearly passive-aggressive, Poland seemed to ignore it and instead placed a hand on his chin in thought. "Yeah, you're right. Hmm..." Then he held his finger up. "Oh! You can just borrow some of my clothes—it's totally no biggie!" he declared. "We probably wear like, just about the same size anyway."

Belarus thought for a minute and then shrugged. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

So, she just ended up wearing one of Poland's old white t-shirts—it was a few sizes too big for her, but it worked okay; she could wear it as sort of a nightgown anyway and didn't have to wear any bottoms.

She sat back on the couch then and watched Poland go over to his closet and pull out two sleeping bags, right in the front. It's as if he's always prepared for a sleepover like this, Belarus thought as she observed this.

Soon enough, Poland had the sleeping bags set up and he encouraged Belarus to come up and snuggle into one, which she did. He'd made the effort to pile up blankets and pillows in it as well, so she was, admittedly, very comfortable in there; in fact, as soon as she wrapped the blankets around herself, she instantly felt very tired, and just about ready to go to sleep.

"Are you like, about to go to sleep?" Poland whispered to her as he went to turn all the lights off.

Belarus rested her head against a pillow. "Yes."

Poland leaped into his sleeping bag as well, getting comfortable. "So," he said, "will you finally admit it? That you had fun?"

The woman groaned and turned to look over at Poland, who was flashing her an eager grin. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Okay, yes—I had fun. There, happy now?"

He let out a laugh that almost sounded like a cackle. "Yes! Ah, I knew you had fun, I just knew it!"

She rolled her eyes again. "Okay. Shut up now, will you?"

"Ugh, fine."

The two grew quiet as they began to fall asleep. However, almost before falling asleep completely, Belarus heard Poland whisper her name.

"What?" she answered groggily.

"I love you," the man said quietly. "Like, in a platonic way, obvi, but yeah."

Belarus hummed. "Yeah, yeah. I...love you too, I guess. Platonically."

Poland seemed satisfied by this, as he hummed in return and Belarus heard him snuggle back into the covers.

The two friends fell asleep not too long after that, both feeling very at peace with how their sleepover had gone.

[incarnateirony]

An anti dressed up as a shipper, an idiot, and a terf all walk into the same bar.

It’s the same picture person.

A lesson.

Warning: if the title doesn’t give it away, queerphobic content comes up in this from the other party being documented.

So, some of you may have watched a twitter exercise yesterday.

It started simple: concern trolling white knight “for the writers” comes in to angrily declare fans doing something tagged in support of them about Destiel was “out of line.” She claimed things like “Misha was gaslit into supporting Destiel”, and pulled all kinds of stunts.

She immediately got on a soap box yelling “I HAVE A LIT CRIT DEGREE, I KNOW AUTHOR INTENT” of course implying she knew better than EVERYONE around her how to read text. She then pulled, of all things, @chill-legilimens​​ ‘ article about the network gods gutting the show out of the internet, and somehow misread it SO FUCKING BADLY -- SO FUCKING BADLY -- she thought it aligned with HER. She argued that fans influenced the writers, essentially, and basically pulled the exact opposite of the very clearly delivered message there out. When it was pointed out we know this author and even sometimes help edit their pieces, and she was, flat out misreading it while bragging about how good she is at deciphering text, it turned into a SHITSHOW.

I had watched her give a large group of queer people 2 days of runaround, while they tried to be polite, and similarly tried to prove everything while she proved nothing. Just preached. After 2 days of them exhausting themselves on her, I came in doing my blunt & savage thing, because fuck civility culture when it’s used by oppressors. Of course, she immediately started tone policing, while herself being an arrogant shitbrick the whole way.

She continued to preach author intent and talk down about “headcanons.” You see, she knew the authors very well. Berens’ name was mentioned in passing, and she came back with. “Who’s Berens? Is that the author of the article?” after Deirdre’s name had been directly cited in associated with it about 15 times.

(credit: @judgehangman​ )

But it gets better. She started pulling the “authors have said Dean is straight.” line. Now, at this point, we had already sourced her at least four pieces of information (quite formally too: SPN Official DVD Collection Season 8 episode 13 creative commentary, Edlund and Sgriccia; Dissent Magazine The Attack Queers Bob Berens review; the books in the office with screenshots, and more.) So we issued one simple request: Okay. Source.

For the next-- I shit you not-- 10 hours she bricked the thread to death, finding any and EVERY rabbit hole she could try to venture down. For the first hour or two a few of us tried to actually debate her newly raised points, but still gave reminder that we were waiting for her source. Every tweet was an opportunity for her to drop a 15 tweet thread trying to derail onto a new topic, and often clarifying she had no idea about any of it (Edlund, Sgriccia, Berens, Dabb--who she couldn’t spell the name of--and Deirdre all became an amorpheous blob in her retelling that she swore she looked at sources and wasn’t convinced, while she crossed all the data and comments about the sources). She tried to challenge that anyone could know all the writers and episodes just because she proved she couldn’t, even when multiple people expressed it to her extremely rapidly with not just author and director listings, but cross references on when they overlapped and major elements (like the 15.20 shot 19 tree being the Kim Manners memorial tree). She randomly babbled about Kripke once. Lied her way through and claimed those sources were vague. Etc.

But at some point, I decided, we’re not playing this distraction game. You wanted a debate, you claim you have a lit crit degree, and thus know the entire art is Argumentation. A source, if you’re declaring knowing author intent. One source. Any time she dropped a distraction tweet, I replied to her thread with things like a list of our sources vs her lack of any and a reminder. I installed a counter ticker. How many times had she been asked to either recant her point or give a single source?

Someone made a list of the logical fallacies she used in the argument. It was two tweets long and still missed several obvious ones. That didn’t stop her. Neither did the dozens of requests for a source or a recant. Onwards, she marched, derailing time and again. She brought in a buddy to try to distract, but he fell out real quick when he realized “the burden of proof lies on the arguer” shot him and her both in the feet in record time and he ducked out. 

Other greatest hits came out like “Dubs (Dabb’s) fanfic books”, and calling the ability to list authors and episodes “headcanons.”

Over time, the dialogue shifted: see, she came in trying the snide “enjoy your headcanons” downtalk, but as time and time again she was pulverized on every point about the show, or the authors, or anything else while STILL never even giving a single source to even her FIRST POINT and running distractions, it became a reality-- she was told, “We’ll enjoy our canon and author intent. You can enjoy your headcanon of... Dabb’s fanfic books and Lord Barons and the writers being collective hallucinations and whatever else in your hot takes about the show content itself” and she FLIPPED SHIT. 

As the ticker for sources approached 100, she started becoming flustered. Before that, even, she started repetitively misgendering Ezra (no tumblr to link in), and Ezra screenshot their bio of they/them and asked them to adjust. Ignored. Ezra linked this request and asked it to be addressed again, and again, and again. 13 times. Ezra linked it 13 times. She even replied to several of them. No avail. No change. Not until literally any and every tweet in her vicinity either had “source?” or “address gender?” for her to reply to did she flee there, and write some giant write-around of “oh, I didn’t see this, sorry” but still refused to actually use it. Or “I’ll use the right one now.” No, just completely strickened pronouns from her vocabulary with Ezra moving forward, after not one mistake, not two, not five, but 13 answers.

At this point, I notice a trend: throughout the entire conversation, she had flip flopped on my pronouns, clearly confused as to what to call me. As I generally don’t care (honestly I prefer he but meh), it didn’t ping me as something to react to while she switched religiously between “he” and “she”. But I realized now, despite all of that confusion: she never once thought to use “they.” Also earlier we found tweets of hers that, while now declaring herself bisexual, she used troublesome wording in the past to blur the line on if she was an ally or, as she phrased it “maybe less than 100% straight in the bell curve” in other conversations.

I mutter about this on the side to Ezra and some friends, but continue on towards the 100 ticker that was the goal to show people in this digital terrarium how disingenuous most people you argue with are -- an exhibit for the class. They know they’re lying and have been caught, but will not cede to admit “oops, I guess I was wrong.” but rather stick, unironically, to their own headcanons about things. After all, they vaguely sorta apologized even if suddenly just refusing to use any pronouns at all on Ezra after that. And she’s so quick to disappear into 15 tweet bombs of distraction trying to play victim for being held accountable at this point, we just didn’t jump to a conclusion on that, alarming as it is.

So. You know. Source.

At this point, she RANDOMLY starts evoking the fact that like, How Dare, She Watched Gay Men Die To AIDS, She Is A Great Philanthropist How Dare How Dare. 

I’m sorry, did you just evoke the blood of our dead to run away from the most basic scrap of accountability in what is literally the first wave of a lit debate because for the last 10 hours you have refused to take the necessary steps to move on to the next point? Did you... just... evoke the ghosts of gay men that were genocided to, essentially, pull up a smokescreen and run away from being party to queer erasure? Or even just? Giving a source? or admitting you were wrong on one point in a debate? Wow, you really just did that. 

Naturally, people involved got pissed. Her Sources ticker hit 100, but at this point, all that haunted her was how completely fucking vile and inappropriate that was in this discussion. 

She got blocked. She then tried to glom onto anyone that hadn’t blocked or muted her and run the same argumentation points she had earlier been decimated in the argument with, while yelling “I ship Destiel too! I wanted them to have sex too! Why does this make me the bad guy?” around the block and hoping nobody actually read the thread. She tried to pitch the “headcanons” point of view again, hoping a new audience would lick her boots. She was, largely, ignored; given a few more comments about her leaving the conversation losing all points and only covered in the blood of our dead she was so proud of; blocked by a few more. (unsurprisingly, if you check her actual tweet history, she seems more invested in Megstiel but)

This is when CommaSameleon -- a professor with two lit degrees and a primary focus in teaching the art of Argumentation -- literally -- stepped in. She initially tried to engage the fact that, well, this woman not only can’t argue out of a paper sack but wasn’t even arguing, she was just running in circles and distracting from all the points and hadn’t addressed a single lit point directly while preaching down at people. But Sam, also, noticed something. This woman kept changing things like “queerphobia” to “homophobia.” Sam mentioned this kinda puts off TERF vibes (I think Sam picked up on the gendering thing herself too.)

Her response? Which she deleted since? But Discord’s embed helpfully saved?

Her inacted non-apologies remain weak, especially in any form of debate be it lit or now queer topics.

Oh I’m sorry, let’s recap her viewpoints: TERF is a slur. “They” is made up and should be avoided at all costs. The blood of dead gay men are a token to use in a lit debate you’re avoiding responsibility in. After this, “authors are headcanons” is suddenly not your worst take, but fascinating that you 13 times didn’t even read the blatant ass screenshot. And I mean, these weren’t subtle or easy to miss these 13 times.

100. She had 100 chances, literally, on a timer, to give a source or shut up with her platforming until she had one. Instead, she chose every rabbit hole she could manifest to disappear into, only to be met by another request for a source, and not moving on until we address the first points. We’ve given ours, now you give yours. Instead, you choose this. This is the hill you choose to die on, rather than admitting, “Sorry, I guess I was wrong” or “I guess I heard that somewhere, my bad.” 100 chances. 13 direct QT requests to address gender which she replied to but didn’t reply to until cornered (and still didn’t, truly, reply to), and “TERF is a slur.” Oh, and after waving around the dead men’s blood she also suddenly Can’t Be A Terf Because She Adopted Two Trans Kids. Lord help those children. Or, you know, the more realistic thing is she’s just manifesting all kinds of bullshit at this point to save face, which is probably why she deleted all the related tweets that show she’s a giant-ass TERF.

So anyway, this is very much a lesson on:

Paying attention to how people manipulate conversation to erase genuine discussion and debate.

Paying attention to WHY they do it. Motivation on methods and tactics will clear up a lot.

Figuring out HOW they try to sound woke about shit and when it’s entirely fucking vile and inappropriate to pull

And by all above points, figuring out that these people are among us, and how NOT to let them influence your conversations.

I don’t care if it’s about a discussion on a ship or show or anything else. People do this. A lot. Extremely dedicatedly, if the 100 asks doesn’t make that clear. 

Stop letting people railroad your conversations with disingenuous bullshit.

So anyway in honor of this I made everyone a gif

Use at will. It’s tagged anti-terf if you want to use the search feature on it.

UPDATE: 

Just went and checked. She went and deleted literally her entire side of the conversation, hundreds if not thousands of tweets. Luckily, Ezra mentioned repeatedly -- and I do trust them inherently -- that they were saving the entire conversation, so that zip file exists somewhere. How fascinating, after she accused us that we would want to delete tweets. Someone realized they had a bad look and giant failure all around.

Also, a related anon that links to an earlier part of this conversation I didn’t even document where she was crying about “cis erasure” [x] This shit went on so long I legit forgot about that.

[all-my-love-for-harry]

Delicate. — Part 2.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: Part 2, let’s gooo. as always, feedback is very much appreciated! Let me know what you think or what you would like to see next. thank you for reading!

catch up here!

"Stupid cheesecake recipe."

"Over baking wasn't exactly on the recipe, J." 

"Oh, shut up. Yours is dry as fuck."

Y/n opened her mouth, pretending to be offended. The pair was currently having a little baking competition that clearly went wrong since none of them can bake. Now, Y/n was pretty good at cooking in general, but for some reason baking just wasn't her thing. And obviously, it wasn't Jensen's thing either. 

"I hope you clean this mess after you're done." The truth was, Louise wasn't surprised by the mess her children had made and didn't mind it either. The age difference between both of them was big, so growing up there wasn't much they could do to bond. Right now, however, they were so much closer than they were before, and Jensen and Y/n had more things in common and more options of activities they could do together, like baking. 

Even if they were bad at it. 

"I invited Harry and Sarah tonight. They're having dinner with us." Louise spoke again, grabbing a rag and starting to wipe off the flour on the kitchen island. 

"Who's Sarah?" Y/n asked, cleaning the flour on her left cheek. She tried to ignore the growing butterflies in her stomach at the mention of Harry. She'd be lying if she said she hasn't thought about him since their last encounter, even went as far as trying to look for him on the internet but she got nothing. But the mention of another woman made her feel confused. Was he married or something? Don't blame her, the guy wears a lot of rings.  

"The owner of that cat café I took you to the other day. She's great, don't worry." 

Jensen nudged her playfully, and she rolled her eyes in return. "I'll take a shower." She announced before marching out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her old room. She wanted to clean herself up before Harry arrived, although she didn't know why. Looking through the clothes she kept at her mother's house, she settled in a plain, long blue dress with spaghetti straps and a pair of sandals. She didn't want to look overdressed but also didn't want to just wear a pair of sweatpants like she's been wearing all afternoon. 

"Do you remember when mom tried to set me up with that girl who worked at the restaurant on the other side of town?" Jensen entered the room without knocking, running his fingers through his hair. He was also fresh out of the shower. 

"Madison?" Jensen hummed in response. "She was nice. Why did you stop going out with her?"

"Because mom only did it because she thought I was lonely.?"

"What's your point?" She looked at him after grabbing a hairbrush from the vanity. 

"That she's doing the same now with Harry? Duh."

"Woah, I've met the man once. And I've tried going out with people she sets me up with, and we never click."

//

Y/n tried to play it cool when she heard the gates open, busying herself with whatever as the doorbell rang and Louise hurried towards the door. Harry and a gorgeous brunette stepped into the house, smiling widely at the middle-aged woman. 

"Come on in! I'm so glad you could make it."

"You have a lovely home, Louise." Harry's deep voice along with that accent of his sent shivers down Y/n's spine. She had a weak spot for British people and she didn't know why. 

"I'm sorry Mitch couldn't make it." The woman beside Harry said. 

"Oh, it's okay. There's always next time."

The three of them walked into the living room where everyone else was sitting. Jensen stood up and high-fived Harry before giving Sarah a side hug. A smirk appeared on Harry's face as Y/n came into his view. "Hello again, love."

"Hi, Harry." Y/n returned his little salute. "Azaleas are doing great, by the way." She jokingly said. 

"Knew you would keep them alive." He gave her a little wink before giving her a quick hug. 

Sarah introduced herself and Y/n did the same, accepting her hand to shake. Y/n had to admit, she was really pretty. Along with her brown hair, she had a pair of blue eyes and an inviting smile. If Harry was really dating Sarah, then he was a lucky man. 

Throughout the dinner, Y/n didn't say much. She'd occasionally steal little glazes at Harry and admired how gorgeous he looked tonight. It was funny, Y/n had this feeling in her tummy every time she's seen him, which by the way has only been twice, and she grew nervous out of nowhere. It was almost like she was too shy to speak to him, which was weird considering she was a pro at holding conversations as she's been trained to do so. Sometimes she'd stare for too long and Harry would notice and smile her way. Y/n felt like a teenager with a highschool crush. She tried to convince herself she didn't like him that way and she was just taken back at how pretty he was. 

Dinner was over and Harry insisted on helping with the dishes despite Louise's protests. So now it was just Y/n and Harry in the kitchen putting everything in the dishwasher while sipping on white wine. 

"How can you put ice on it?" Harry asked, nodding at her glass filled with wine and ice. "When the ice melts it just tastes like water."

"I like it really cold but I don't like keeping the bottles in the freezer." She explained, taking a sip from her glass. "So how do you know Sarah?" 

"She was the first friend I made when I came here. She's also British so we became fast friends. Plus, he's dating my best friend and co-worker."

"Oh." She said, processing the information. Perhaps that Mitch guy Sarah mentioned was her boyfriend and not Harry. Suddenly, she felt a wave of relief but then again, why?

"Can I say something without sounding creepy?"

"S-sure?" 

"My sister is a massive fan of yours. When we still lived with my mum, you were all she listened to."

"I'm sorry." She joked and he breathed a laugh. "Well, tell her I say hi, please."

"Will do."

"So..." She dragged the word. "You knew who I was?"

"Obviously I don't live under a rock." He rolled his eyes playfully. "I'm just not invested in that whole world as other people, you know? I don't even own an Instagram account or anything." Harry shrugged.

So that's why she couldn't find him anywhere, she thought. A feeling of excitement ran through her veins. Harry knew who she was, but he didn't care. Being treated like a normal person was a luxury Y/n didn't have anymore, so it was safe to say she felt happy knowing he'd treat her like one. 

They finished the task in silence, but Y/n couldn't contain the little smile forming on her face and honestly, Harry couldn't either. 

She was curious about him. What was he doing in her hometown if he was from the other side of the world? What did he do in his free time? Where did he get so many cool rings? Did he always want to be a florist? Why was he a florist? She had a million questions she wanted to ask, feeling genuinely intrigued by him. Harry could easily come off as an intimidating man, but what she has noticed from him was completely different. 

Harry was shy, incredibly so. But he was also cheeky, and silly and had a boyish smile that he could change into an intense look in a matter of seconds if he wanted to. His green eyes were always shiny, like stars in a black sky. He also appeared to be always happy, although she couldn't be certain on that one. 

The things she was feeling right now were things she's never experienced before and that was both exciting and terrifying. 

//

"I never trust a narcissist." Y/n tasted the new lyrics she's been thinking about with a random melody on the piano. She sat in front of the instrument in her living room and this time she didn't have to squeeze her brain for one decent melody, because this time she was able to come up with one smoothly. 

Pandora was casually laying down on the floor close to Y/n while Lizzie was chilling around the house as she didn't like the sound of the piano that much. This was one of those nights when inspiration came to Y/n from nowhere, having to drag herself out of the comfiness of her bed before she forgot what her brain had come up with. She continued adding lyrics, making sure her phone was still recording everything she was doing. 

It had been a few days since she's seen her family or had any kind of human interaction and now that she was thinking about it, she kind of missed it. Now, she loved her family to pieces and would do absolutely anything for them but she missed her friends, her real friends who were thousands of miles away from her right now. She was craving that more than anything right now and that's probably why she found herself in front of The Blossom House the morning after, debating whether or not entering the shop. 

Deciding to suck it up, she opened the door of the building and stepped in, feeling the overwhelming smell of flowers hit her nostrils immediately. There were a few people in the shop, a young boy buying a bouquet of red roses and two middle-aged women that looked like they came together. Y/n tried to go unnoticed as she stepped deeper into the store. The truth was, she didn't know what she was doing there. She didn't need more flowers, that's for sure. 

She looked through her sunglasses a bouquet of daisies her mother would absolutely die for, so she decided to grab it for her. 

"Oop, sorry. That one's not done yet." Someone said from behind. She turned around and saw a man with long hair tied in a low bun and a mustache on his face. "It's a commission, actually. But I can make another one for you."

"Oh, it's fine. I'll just pick something else." She gave him a polite smile. The name on the tag read Mitch, so he must be Sarah's boyfriend. "Uh... weird question but, is Harry around?"

"Yeah, he's in the back. Want me to get him for you?" He offered but she declined. 

"It's okay. Thank you." Giving him one last smile she walked away to the other side of the room, this time looking at the roses. The white ones were her favorites and she loved looking at them. 

"Hey, stranger."  Taking advantage of the fact he couldn't see her, she smiled widely at the sound of his voice. "Fancy seeing you here." As soon as she turned around she saw the goofy dimpled smile on his face. 

"Likewise, do you work here by any means?" She smirked as he giggled, deciding to play along. 

"Darling, I own the place."

"An entrepreneur, oh my god." She pretended to fan herself with the palm of her hand and Harry let out a big laugh. 

"What brings you here? More flowers?" Something tells her he knew she wasn't here for the flowers, and it was true, as much as she wanted to tell herself she wanted a new bouquet for her mom. In reality, she wanted to see him. "Has something caught your eye so far?"

"There was this bouquet of daisies but a man told me it was for a commission?" Her words came off more like a question. 

"Oh, yes. Mitch's been working on that for a few hours now. I can tell him to make you one like that if you want. Could be done in a couple of hours."

"That would be great. I could swing by in a while to get it."

"Orrrrr, we could wait for it over a cup of coffee?"

She observed him for a while and how the dimples never disappeared from his face as he waited for her answer. He seemed confident and she really liked that. "Sounds fun." She shrugged before a smile appeared on her face, matching his. 

"Let me tell Mitch and we'll go." He said before rushing to the back of the store and returning shortly after without his apron. "Would you prefer to go to Sarah's? Because there's this one, half block away that serves good coffee."

"Let's try that one." Honestly, she'd walk whatever blocks if that meant they'd spend more time together. "As much as I loved going to Sarah's, seeing all those kittens at once makes me cry."

"I feel the same. I always take my mum there when she comes to visit, last time she came she adopted one." He mentioned. A car passed at low speed, making Y/n nervous. She tried to cover her face as much as she could with her hair and fixing her sunglasses. "Is everything okay?" Harry asked, noticing her change of behavior. 

"Uh? Oh, yes. I thought someone was watching from that car." She said in a low voice. What happened next, she would've never expected. Harry pushed her gently to the other side of the sidewalk, changing places with her so his much taller frame would cover hers.

She blushed, looking up at him but he acted like it wasn't a big deal, like it was a natural thing to do although they didn't even know each other that well. She thought he'd tell her she was being paranoid or something but instead, he chose to do something he thought would make her feel more at ease. And it worked. 

Harry held the door open for her when they arrived, guiding her to a table away from the windows and pulled out the chair for her to sit, being an absolute gentleman with her. And although Y/n insisted, Harry went for their coffees and paid for them as well, saying he was the one who invited her hence he'd be the one who pays. 

Once they were settled with their own cups of coffee, they started talking. Mostly about Harry, Y/n still didn't feel comfortable enough to talk about herself and he understood so he let her ask him anything she desired. 

"Do you go to England often?"

"Not as much as I'd like to. I try to go during summer and for the holidays, of course. Although for birthdays and such, I'm not always able to fly there." 

"You must miss your family a lot." From what she's gathered about him, he was a family guy, so being away from his must be tough. She knew it was for her. 

"I do. But I also love it here."

"Do you see yourself going back?"

"To London? Probably not. I have gotten used to being in the states so if I ever move back there full time I'd feel out of place."

She nodded along, listening to him carefully. Harry had a beautiful voice and he spoke slowly so it made it even more soothing than it already was. She swore this man could read her a bedtime story and she'd be out in the first minutes. 

They talked for some more and bought another cup of coffee for the walk back to the flower shop. They were having a great time, and although they wouldn't say it out loud, none of them wanted it to end. So it was safe to say they both felt a little sad once they arrived at The Blossom House. 

"Let me get the bouquet for you." Harry told her after they entered. He came back with a replica of the bouquet of daisies she saw earlier and she smiled. "It's on the house, tell Louise I say hi."

"You don't have to gift me flowers every time I come, you know that right?" She chuckled but grabbed the bouquet regardless. 

"I know I don't have to but who says I don't want to?" He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, grinning at her. 

"Thank you, Harry. For the coffee and the flowers."

"You're very welcome. I, uh, I had a great time today." He said, blushing a little.

"Me too."

"Do you think we could do it again some other time?" He asked hesitantly. 

"I'd love to, honestly." Y/n admitted, starting to blush as well. 

"So can I have your number or I'd have to wait until you come again?" He asked teasingly. "Swear I'll not sell it on e-bay."

"Can you even sell a telephone number on e-bay?" She asked, laughing as she took her phone out of her bag, handing it to him. "Feel free to text yourself so you could have mine too."

"I'll use it wisely, I promise."

"What do you mean?"

"Perhaps not only for coffee but for a nice dinner."

Yeah, she definitely hoped he'd do that.

//

Tag list: @reverse-hxlland​ @cronias13

[olderthannetfic]

It's really surprising that you're so well versed in older fandoms and yet participate in new popular ones (that cdrama, kpop) is this by design? Im in my twenties and my interest turnover is already way slower than it used to be

You know, that’s a really interesting question. I wouldn’t say it’s by design exactly in that I do tend to just follow what strikes my fancy, and I can’t force myself to want to write fic for just anything. (I find it easier to like reading fic without serious involuntary emotional investment, but writing takes more. Vidding I can do on command most of the time, but I don’t usually bother unless I have a lot of feels or I’m fulfilling someone’s prompt.)

However, me getting into BTS was 100% due to me wanting to understand BTS enough to explain to people who weren’t very interested but wanted to know what was going on in fandom lately. Under normal circumstances, I run the dance party at Escapade, the oldest extant slash con. We borrowed vividcon’s thing of playing fanvids on the wall--all of them set to dance music--as the soundtrack for the dance party. This means I’m creating a 3-hour mixtape of fannishness, which has amazing potential to make people feel in the know about Fandom Today... and equal potential to make them feel alienated if nothing they care about shows up. Only about 100-150 people attend the con, so it really is possible to make a playlist that feels inclusive yet informative--it just takes a huge amount of work.

Every year, I do a lot of research on which fandoms are getting big and look for vids from vidders people won’t have heard of, so there is an element of consciously trying to keep up with things. Generally, I only get into these fandoms myself if I had no idea what they were and then suddenly, oops, they’re my kryptonite, like the buddy cop android plot in Detroit: Become Human, which sucked me in hard for like 6 months on the basis of a vid.

(So if you’re into cross-fandom meta and associated stuff as one of your fannish interests, you tend to have broader knowledge of different fandoms, old and new, than if you’re just looking for the next place you’ll read fic. It’s also easier to love vids for unfamiliar things than fic.)

But though I was only looking for a basic primer on BTS, BTS has 7 members with multiple names and no clear juggernaut pairing, not to mention that AU that runs through the music videos and lots of other context to explain. The barrier to understanding WTF was going on at all was high enough that to know enough to explain, I had to be thoroughly exposed... And once I was over that hurdle, oops, I had a fandom.

--

In terms of old vs. new, here’s the thing: kpop fandoms in English and c-drama fandoms in English right now feel a lot like anime fandom in English did in the early 00s. I had a Buddy Cops of the 70s phase in the middle, but my current fannishness is actually a return to my older fannishness in many ways.

What do I mean about them being similar?

Yes, I know some wanker will show up to say I think China, Korea, and Japan are indistinguishable, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the way that I used to routinely meet Italian and French and German fans, Argentinian and Mexican, Malaysian and Indonesian and Filipino too. English-language fandom of SPN or MCU may have all those fans from all those countries, but it feels very American most of the time. English-language fandom of a non-English-language canon is more overtly about using English as a lingua franca.

It also tends to attract people who as a sideline to their fannishness are getting into language learning and translation, which are my other passion in life after fanworks fandom. (I speak only English and Spanish and a bit of Japanese, but I’ve studied German, French, Russian, Mandarin, Old English, and now Korean.)

Nerds arguing about methods of language learning and which textbooks are good and why is my jam. This is all over the place in English-language fandoms of Chinese, Japanese, and Korean media. Those fandoms also tend to be full of speakers coming from a Germanic or Romance languages background who face similar hurdles in learning these languages. (In other words, if you’re a native Japanese speaker trying to learn Korean, the parts that will be hard for you are different than if you’re an English speaker, but you’re also usually not doing fandom in English.)

There’s also an element of scarcity and difficulty of access and a communal attempt to construct a canon (in the other sense) of stuff from that country that pertains to one’s fannishness. So, for example, a primer explaining the genre of xianxia is highly relevant to being a n00b Untamed fan, but just any old thing about China is not. A c-drama adapted from a danmei webnovel is perhaps part of the new pantheon of Chinese shit we’re all getting into, but just any old drama from decades ago is probably not... unless it’s a genre precursor to something else we care about. Another aspect here is that while Stuff I Can Access As A N00b Who Doesn’t Speak The Language may be relatively scarce, there’s a vast, vast wealth of stuff that exists.

This is what it felt like to be an anime fan in the US in 2000. As translation got more commercial and more crappy series were licensed and dumped onto an already glutted market, the vibe changed. No longer were fans desperately trying to learn enough of the language to translate or spending their time cataloguing what existed or making fanworks about a show they stuck with for a bit: the overall community focus turned to an endless race of consumption to keep up with all of the latest releases. That’s a perfectly valid way of being fannish, but if I wanted that, I’d binge US television 24/7.

Anime fandom got bigger, but what I liked about anime fandom in English died, and I moved on. (Okay, I first moved on to Onmyouji, which is a live action Japanese thing, but still.)

Hardcore weeaboos and now fans of Chinese and Korean stuff don’t stop at language: people get excited about cooking, my other other great passion. Times a thousand if the canon is something like The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty, which is full of loving shots of food preparation. People get excited about history! Mandarin and Japanese may share almost nothing in terms of grammar or phonology, but all of East Asia has influence from specific Chinese power centers historically, and there are commonalities to historical architecture and clothing that I love.

I fell out of love with the popular anime art styles as they changed, and I’m not that into animation in general these days. (I still own a shitton of manga in art styles I like, like Okano Reiko’s Onmyouji series.) I’ve become a filmmaker over the last decade, and I’m very excited about beautiful cinematography and editing. With one thing and another, I’m probably not going to get back into anime fandom, but it’s lovely to revisit the cultural aspects I enjoyed about it via live-action media.

BTS surprised me too, to be honest. I really dislike that early 90s R&B ballad style that infests idol music (not just Korean--believe me, I resisted many rounds of “But Johnny’s Entertainment though!” back in the day). While I like some of the dance pop, I just don’t care. But OH NO, BTS turn out to be massive conscious hip hop fanboys, and their music sounds different. I have some tl;dr about my reactions in the meta I wrote about one of my fanvids, which you can find on Dreamwidth here.

--

But back to your comment about turnover: I know fans from the 70s who’ve had one great fannish love and that’s it and more who were like that but eventually moved on to a second or third. They’re... really fannishly monogamous in a way I find hard to comprehend. It was the norm long ago, but even by the 90s when far more people were getting into fandom, it was seen as a little weird. By now, with exponentially more people in fandom, it’s almost unheard of. I think those fans still exist, even as new people joining, but we don’t notice them. They were always rare, but in the past, only people like that had the stamina to get over the barriers to entry and actually become the people who made zines or were willing to be visibly into fanfic in eras when that was seen as really weird. On top of that, there’s an element of me, us, judging the past by what’s left: only people with an intense and often single passion are visible because other people either drifted away or have seamlessly disappeared into some modern fandom. They don’t say they’re 80 or 60 or 40 instead of 20, so nobody knows.

In general, I’m a small fandoms and rare ships person. My brain will do its best to thwart me by liking whatever has no fic even in a big fic fandom... (Except BTS because there is literally fic for any combination of them, like even more than for the likes of MCU. Wow. Best fandom evar!) So I have an incentive to not get complacent and just stick with one fandom because I would very soon have no ability to be in fandom at all.

My appetite for Consuming All The Things has slowed way down, but it also goes in waves, and a lot of what I’m consuming is what I did back in 2000: journal articles and the limited range of English-language books on the history of m/m sex and romance in East Asia. It’s not so much that I have a million fandoms as that I’m watching a few shows as an expression of my interest in East Asian costume dramas and East Asian history generally.

I do like to sit with one thing and experience it deeply rather than moving on quickly, but the surface expression of this has changed depending on whether I’m more into writing fic or more into doing research or something else.

But yes, I do do a certain amount of trying to stay current, often as a part of research for fandom meta or to help other people know what’s going on. Having a sense of what’s big doesn’t automatically mean getting into all those things, but I think some fans who are older-in-fandom and/or older-in-years stop being open to even hearing what’s new. And if you’ve never heard of it, you’ll never know if you might have liked it.