#i literally can’t sleep without his stream being on somewhere in the background

[bubbledtee]

i say i’m normal and then put on my nightly jerma stream for sleep ambience

[sluttywonwoo]

something more || h.js x reader

Summary: it’s a tale as old as time- your roommate walks in on you masturbating and things escalate from there

Warnings: swearing, smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark )

Masterlist

additional warnings: additional warnings: masturbation, unprotected sex, choking, degradation, lowkey spit play

“Joshua! Come look at this!”

There were a lot of things you liked about your apartment. Cheap rent, nice views, mostly functioning air conditioning… however the gaping hole in your bedroom ceiling was not one of them. It had started out as a small leak a couple of weeks ago, water dripping from some imperceptible hole in the plaster that had slowly turned into a trickle and then a steady stream, until finally the ceiling had collapsed in on itself, unable to hold the weight of all of the water any longer. You had filed a maintenance request when you first noticed the leak, but it had gone ignored. Maybe now, now that your bed was covered in drywall and pipe water, now that you could see into the apartment above yours, your concerns would be important enough to be addressed.

“What is it?” your roommate called back.

You heard him approach and waited for the gasp that would follow. “Y/n…” he hissed, one hand over his mouth, the other gripping your shoulder in shock.

“I know.”

“Holy shit.”

“I know.”

“What do we do?”

“I don’t know.”

You sighed and took a tentative step forward into your room, wincing when your sock made contact with your damp rug.

“I’ll call maintenance,” Joshua offered and turned on his heel to grab his phone.

“I’ll… try and figure my shit out, I guess.”

His footsteps faded into the background as he retreated into his own room and you looked around your room with a frown, surveying the space for anything salvageable. You were surprised you hadn’t started crying yet. But apparently your brain hadn’t quite caught up with your eyes because all you felt was a numb sort of apathy as you gazed at the mess in front of you.

There was no way you could sleep in your room tonight. Even if you managed to dry everything and clear the debris, there was still a giant fucking hole in the ceiling. The mere thought of trying to fall asleep underneath it made you uneasy. You would have to crash somewhere else.

“They said not to touch anything-” Joshua shouted from the other room. You froze in place, afraid you’d already done something you weren’t supposed to and decided to join him in the kitchen instead.

Your socks left wet footprints against the concrete floor as you padded over to where Joshua was. He shot you a look of sympathy as you peeled them off and tossed them to the side, shifting his attention back to the notepad on the table in front of him to write something the person on the other end of the phone was saying.

The pen hovered above the paper momentarily, and Joshua rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tomorrow? Is that the earliest- yeah that’s fine.”

The little hope you’d had that the issue would be resolved tonight fizzled, and you blew out a breath of frustration. You pulled out your phone and began scrolling through your contacts, mentally making notes of who might let you spend the night at their place.

Joshua thanked whoever he was talking to and hung up, pushing the notebook away from him with a groan.

“They’ll be here tomorrow morning,” he said, giving you an apologetic look. “What are you doing?”

“Texting Seungcheol.”

Joshua made a face. “Seung- why?”

“I’m going to ask if I can sleep over.”

“You haven’t talked to him in months,” your roommate protested.

“He’ll say yes to me,” you assured him.

“That’s because he expects you to sleep with him.”

“I know.”

“Y/n! You’re not seriously going to have sex with him in exchange for a place to stay, are you?”

“Well when you put it like that…” you trailed off and sighed. “Whatever, I’m not above it. It’s been a while since I’ve been laid anyway.”

“Seungcheol couldn’t even last thirty seconds-” he paused when you gave him a look, “I know from what you’ve told me. Not because I slept with him.”

“You know saying that makes it sound like that’s exactly why you know.”

“Please, y/n, I have taste,” he said matter-of-factly, easily dodging a swat from you. “You’re not sleeping at Seungcheol’s,” he said as if he’d decided, as if he had final say on the matter.

“Well, what am I supposed to do, Joshua?” you demanded. “I can’t sleep in my own room, and you know I can’t sleep on the couch so what do you suggest?”

“Take my room,” he offered simply, shrugging like it should have been obvious.

“What?”

“You can have my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch. You don’t even have to fuck me for it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well what do I have to do for it?”

You could tell Joshua wanted to say ‘nothing’, but knew you wouldn’t accept his offer without feeling like you could give him anything in return so he settled for “fried rice”.

“You want fried rice?”

“I want your fried rice,” he clarified with a grin. “You know it’s my favorite.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Okay,” you agreed. “Fine. Thank you, Joshua.”

He gave you a knowing smile and nodded. “Don’t mention it.”

-

Joshua kept his room colder than yours. Your wet hair from the shower only made the chill worse, but you didn’t want to mess with the thermostat and throw off how he liked things. You were even hesitant to touch the pillows on his bed. You knew Joshua wouldn’t care, but you still wanted to respect his space.

Joshua was literally the most easygoing person you knew, which offered a nice balance in contrast to your high-strung, perfectionist personality. One time you’d bled on his sheets while you were just hanging out in his room and he was completely unphased. He just threw the bedding in the wash like nothing had happened and mentioned that he’d been needing to wash them anyway while you practically cried in embarrassment.

“It’s okay, y/n. I’ve had girlfriends before.”

“Yeah, but I’m not your girlfriend!”

“We live together, close enough.”

To be fair, you knew that this kind of thing happened all the time, but you were still mortified. You didn’t even pay attention to the rest of the movie you and Joshua had been watching. To this day you didn’t know how the Lego Batman Movie ended.

“You need something to sleep in?” Joshua had asked on your way from the bathroom back to his room, having noted your state of undress.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to make the trips to and from the shower in nothing more than a towel, but he knew you wouldn’t be able to go back into your room tonight, and that most of your clothes were still damp from the ceiling anyway.

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

He just nodded from where he was on the couch and gestured past you in the direction of his door. “You know where everything is. Pick out whatever.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You’d chosen an old t-shirt from a gas station souvenir shop, one of many in his collection of road-trip tees and a pair of panties you had managed to snag from your dresser before Joshua had yelled at you to get out of your room earlier.

You hung your towel on a hook attached to the back of his closet door and sprawled out on his bed, pulling the comforter around yourself.

It was late. It had been late for a while, but you and Joshua were night owls. You both kept busy schedules, so at night you liked to take some time for yourselves before bed. Still though, you knew you should sleep. But you couldn’t.

You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to relax your muscles.

If you were being honest, the idea of getting laid had been exciting and you were a bit disappointed it wasn’t going to happen for you tonight. It had been a while since you’d been with anyone, and you were craving the intimacy, even if it was coming from someone like Dylan.

Your skin was beginning to feel hot and sticky, and you pushed the covers off of you in your frustration. You had just been cold a few moments ago, and all it had taken to make you sweat was the mere thought of sex. It was pathetic, you were pathetic, and you knew it.

Your fingers inched toward the waistband of your panties almost unconsciously before you stopped yourself. You were in Joshua’s bed. You shouldn’t be getting yourself off in his bed. That was wrong. It wasn’t your room, there must be some sort of boundary for this sort of thing. Roommate code. What if Joshua walked in on you- no. You clenched your fists by your sides and sighed. The idea of your roommate walking in on you with your hand down your pants should not be turning you on. It should be having the opposite effect. But you couldn’t help it.

You had managed to suppress your attraction to him for this long, being in his bed shouldn’t be the breaking point. Maybe it was because his sheets smelled like him, or maybe it was because you were wearing his shirt…fuck, you wished you had your vibrator. The little pink toy was sitting in the drawer of your bedside table, likely water damaged beyond repair. God, hadn’t you lost enough?

“Forgive me, Shua,” you whispered hoarsely into the empty room as you resigned yourself to your pleasure.

Your pussy had won over your head and you’d given into your desire. Familiar sparks of arousal flickered faintly in your stomach when you brushed the tips of your fingers over your panties. You weren’t shocked to discover that the material was already damp from where your wetness had seeped through.

You tried to think about Seungcheol, about your celebrity crushes, about anyone other than the person behind the other side of the door, but your mind kept drifting back to your roommate. You thought about what Joshua’s fingers would feel like instead of your own. They were so much longer than yours… you stifled a moan as you curled a finger into yourself and let your thumb begin to circle your clit, imagining Joshua’s head was buried in between your thighs instead.

Getting yourself to the edge was usually difficult for you without the help of toys or a third party, but you surprised yourself when your thighs began to tense in anticipation as you worked your fingers over your g-spot repeatedly, orgasm just out of reach. You were trying to be as quiet as possible, but you kept letting quiet sighs and curses slip from between your lips as your focus began to blur.

You pictured Joshua pushing himself into you, pictured how his face would scrunch up in pleasure as he felt you clench around his cock for the first time, how he’d kiss your neck and praise you for taking him so well- you bit down on your knuckles to stop yourself from screaming.

The invisible string inside of you snapped right as the door to Joshua’s room swung open and you were forced to rip your hand away from yourself as you came and your pussy clenched around nothing.

The light overhead flicked on and you squinted, groaning at the sudden blinding intrusion.

“Sorry,” Joshua apologized sheepishly. “I just forgot a pillow.”

You used your dry hand, the knuckle-bitten one, to throw him one of the pillows from behind you. He caught it with ease and you thought that would be it, but he zeroed in on your hand, narrowing his eyes at it with a confused expression on his face.

You hoped he couldn’t tell that you were still trembling from the aftershocks of your ruined orgasm, hoped he didn’t question why you were so flushed and breathless.

“What happened to your hand?” he asked, tossing the pillow aside and taking your hand into his own to observe. “You’re bleeding.”

Damn, you hadn’t meant to bite your hand that hard.

“It’s nothing,” you said and tried to yank your hand out of his grasp, but he was holding onto you too tightly.

“I have some Band-Aids in the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Shua you don’t have to-”

He was gone before you could finish your sentence, and back before you could protest any further. While he was in the bathroom you hurriedly wiped your other hand on your- his- shirt in an attempt to erase any evidence of what you had been doing just moments before he had interrupted.

“Give me your hand,” Joshua instructed, taking a seat on the bed so that he was facing you.

You outstretched your arm so that he could see the damage and watched as he dabbed a tissue at the specks of blood on your skin, applying pressure to stop the flow.

“It’s just a little scrape,” you insisted.

“Still, we don’t want it to get infected.”

“I guess,” you mumbled.

Once he was sure that you had stopped bleeding he dabbed a tiny bit of Neosporin onto your knuckle and wrapped a Spider-Man Band-Aid around your finger.

“Thank you.”

“Wait, I’m not done!”

“What do you mean?”

“I have to kiss it better.”

You rolled your eyes but gave in, lifting your hand to his face princess style. He pressed a gentle kiss to the Spider-Man Band-Aid and took a moment to admire his work. It was only when he was holding your hand closer that he noticed the indents in all of your other knuckles.

“Why were you biting your hand?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

There was no use in lying about it, the marks on your hand were clearly teeth marks. He would know you were bullshitting if you tried to play it off.

“I wasn’t.”

So much for that.

Joshua blinked. “Show me your other hand.”

“What? No.”

“Show me.”

“No!”

You grabbed the comforter and pulled it tighter to you while Joshua tried to wrestle it from your grasp.

“I swear to God, y/n,” he muttered under his breath.

You put up a good fight, but he was stronger than you and tugged it off of you within seconds of struggling. He pushed you back onto the bed and used his body to pin you to the mattress so that you couldn’t wriggle away. Now that you were stuck underneath him he was able to assess the hand that you had been trying to hide. You whimpered in embarrassment and watched in horror as he brought the hand… brought the hand to his…

“Joshua, what are you doing?” you breathed out.

He looked at you brazenly and then put two of your fingers in his mouth. You shivered as he sucked the arousal, the evidence, from your fingers to confirm his suspicion.

“You’re a liar,” he said finally.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammered.

Joshua chuckled to himself and let your hand fall back to your side. “And a brat too.” You scoffed in offense but Joshua just leaned down to kiss your forehead sweetly. “I already knew that, though.”

“Excuse you, but I am fucking delightful!” you argued.

“I never said you weren’t!”

“You just called me a brat!”

“Two things can be true at the same time.”

“I hate you.”

“So you… don’t want me to… give you a hand there?” he asked.

You paused. Was he really offering to-

“We’re friends, Joshua. You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. I want to.”

You could feel your heart beating in your throat and in your pussy. Joshua was your best friend and your roommate… but was there something more? Right now you wanted him more than you had ever wanted anyone. This couldn’t end well.

“Joshua?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

Joshua was back on top of you as soon as the words left your mouth, pressing his lips to yours while one of his hands tangled itself in your hair. You could taste yourself on his tongue and moaned softly into his mouth. You found yourself wishing the moment could last forever, but you quickly changed your mind when you felt Joshua pressing his thigh up in between your legs. Lazily making out was nothing compared to what he was doing now. He brought a hand to your hip and urged you to move. He guided you until you were rocking back and forth on his thigh at a steady pace.

“Feel good?” he asked.

You could only nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Your panties were the only layer between your pussy and Joshua’s leg, and although they were certainly ruined by now they still provided the means to create friction that went straight to your clit.

Joshua’s hands fiddled with the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing and he tugged at the bottom of it, motioning for it to come off.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

Another nod from you and he was whisking the shirt off over your head without a second’s hesitation. He was pulling his own shirt off next, tossing it into a pile on the floor with yours. His fingers found the waistband of your panties soon after, and he played with the elastic impatiently, eager eyes searching yours for approval. You lifted your hips off of the bed so that he could take them off, leaving you completely naked before him.

Joshua let his gaze travel down your body, shamelessly admiring every dimple, curve, and freckle that was now exposed to him. You shifted under him self-consciously, silently wishing you had shaved. If you had known you’d be fucking your best friend, you would have, but it was too late now and you could only hope he wasn’t bothered by a little hair.

“How are you real,” he murmured to himself, earning an eye roll from you. Joshua reached out and dragged a finger through your folds, smiling when you flinched. “So sensitive…” he noted. “Did you cum already?”

“Yes, but it was ruined,” you admitted.

“Poor thing,” he tsked in fake sympathy, bringing his hand back up to his mouth. “Just wanna nother taste. You’re too sweet to resist.”

“Shua,” you whined.

“What is it, baby?”

“I need you.”

He smiled down at you and took you by the chin, tilting your face up towards him. “You already have me.”

“You know what I mean!”

“But I want to hear you say it.”

You groaned stubbornly and twisted your head out of his grip, only to let out a yelp when he closed a hand around your throat.

“Stop being a brat,” Joshua spat as he forced you to look at him again. “I’ll give you one more chance to be a good girl, got it? Good girls use their words to tell me what they want. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you choked out desperately.

“Are you going to be a good girl?”

“I’ll be a good girl.”

“So what is it that you need, love?”

You swallowed your pride and opened your mouth to respond. “Your cock, please.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Joshua asked, cupping a hand around his ear as if he couldn’t hear you.

“I want- I need your cock, please.”

“Atta girl,” he praised and eased the grip around your neck. “Was that so hard?”

You shook your head weakly and watched as Joshua pushed his boxers down to his thighs, then onto the floor, letting his cock bounce up against his stomach. He was fully hard already and you wondered how long he’d been like that, wondered how he had so much self-control when you barely had any.

“We can stop whenever you want, okay?” Joshua said, face softening and hand gently cupping your cheek. “Let me know if it’s too much. Just tell me what you need, baby.” You nodded obediently and met him halfway as he leaned down to kiss you. He broke away from the kiss suddenly and held a hand underneath your mouth. “Spit,” he ordered.

You complied and sat up a little to spit into his hand. He worked that same hand over his cock a few times, using your spit to lubricate it before positioning himself over you.

“Is this a good idea?” you blurted right as Joshua was about to push himself into you, suddenly aware that you wouldn’t be able to go back from this as soon as he did.

You had shoved any feelings you’d had for Joshua down for so long and it would be impossible to keep doing after sleeping with him. But you had already come this far.

“Probably not,” Joshua answered with a shrug. “Do you want to stop?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

“Okay, cool.”

“Great.”

A brief moment of silence lapsed while you both stared into each others’ eyes, not quite sure where to go from there.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” Joshua said casually after thirty more seconds of silence.

“Yes, please do.”

You braced yourself for the stretch as Joshua pushed into you at an agonizing pace and sank your teeth into his shoulder to relieve some of the pressure. Joshua groaned at the feeling of you pulsing around his cock, a feeling which was only heightened by you nipping at his skin.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“You’re… so big,” you echoed back.

He allowed you a few moments to adjust before he moved. You were already so worked up that he slid in and out of you easily and it wasn’t long before he was pounding into you at a fast tempo. He pressed hurried kisses to your jaw and neck, leaving a trail of hickies to remember him by.

You cried out each time his cock hit your g-spot, overwhelmed and still sensitive. Joshua kissed you to drown out your moans, clamping a hand over your mouth in his stead whenever he came up for air. His other hand was up against the wall for stability, though it wasn’t helping much.

“Joshua,” you gasped.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can you choke me again, please?” you all but begged.

Joshua smirked. “Of course.”

He did as you asked and cursed when you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him in closer.

“See what happens when you’re a good girl and ask nicely?” he teased, cocking his jaw arrogantly. “You get rewarded.”

You could feel your orgasm building in your abdomen as Joshua continued to thrust into you and wondered if he was close too. You guessed that he was from the way his hips had began to falter.

“Up,” Joshua commanded suddenly.

He slipped out of you and grabbed you by the shoulders, hauling you into a sitting position.

“On your hands and knees,”

“And if I don’t?” you challenged.

“You don’t want to find out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Should I finish myself off, then?” he asked, pumping his cock lazily as if he expected you to call his bluff. “Leave you here needy, not let you cum?”

“No, please!”

You quickly got into position on all fours with your back to Joshua praying that he wouldn’t make good on his threat.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. You could hear the smile in his voice.

You fell forward on your face when he shoved his cock back into you only for him to tug you upright by your hair. He fucked you like that in doggy for a minute or so before he snaked an arm around your upper body and pulled you flush against his chest. Being seated on his lap allowed Joshua the ability to touch practically anywhere on your body. He took advantage of the new position by grabbing your tits.

He was so fucking deep in you like this you couldn’t stand it. Every tiny movement brought you closer to the edge and you weren’t sure how much longer you could last.

“Shua, I’m close,” you warned through broken gasps.

“Don’t cum yet.”

“Why not,” you whined.

“You’re not allowed to cum until you answer this question for me,” he said breathlessly.

“What is it?”

“When you were touching yourself earlier, who were you thinking about?”

“I-”

“Was it Seungcheol?”

“No.”

Joshua’s fingers found your clit and began rubbing circles around it, making it that much harder not to disobey him.

“Fuck, Joshua…”

“Who was it?”

“It was you! I was thinking about you!”

“Do you always think about me?” he pressed.

“You only said one question,” you accused defensively.

Interrogating you while he had you on the brink of orgasm was not fair.

“Fine, cum.”

You cried his name as you finally came. He held you through it, your orgasm triggering his own as you clenched around him repeatedly. Your name tumbled from his lips too, while he lost himself in the midst of pleasure. You couldn’t see his face as he came, but you could imagine it, like you had hundreds of times before. The way his hair would stick to his forehead, the way he’d bite down on his lip and squeeze his eyes shut as he let go of control…

You couldn’t see him as he came, but you could feel him. You felt his entire body tense behind you, felt the warm spurts of cum fill you up, felt the way he instinctively grabbed at your throat to anchor himself.

Neither of you spoke for what felt like an eternity as you both caught your breath. Joshua collapsed on the bed with you in his arms, cock still buried inside of you. He brushed your hair out of your face and turned your head so that he could look into your eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded sleepily and gave him a weak smile. “I’m good.”

“Are you sure? I wasn’t too rough?”

“No, you were perfect.”

He kissed you again without a second thought and you kissed him back. It felt familiar and warm, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Here let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, pulling out of you.

You winced at the empty feeling, but laid in bed motionlessly and let Joshua dote on you. He used a warm washcloth in between your thighs and wrapped a new Spider-Man Band-Aid around your hurt finger. He slipped back into his boxers and tossed you another pair of his to wear before fetching you a glass of water from the kitchen and making you drink it all.

Joshua returned to bed finally and snuggled up to you instantly. You nestled yourself into the crook of his arm and rested your head on his shoulder.

“I thought I didn’t have to fuck you to sleep in your bed,” you said quietly once he had gotten comfortable.

“Shut up.” There was still a lot to discuss between the two of you, but nothing that couldn’t wait until morning. For now you were content to fall asleep in his arms and ignore all of the unanswered questions bouncing around in your mind. “For the record, I still expect my fried rice.”

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[machinegunbun]

Did we ever get the freaky colson fic? Asking for a friend

Yenno what? I’ve been practically starving yall so i think you earned it. Ask (for a friend) and you shall receive. Buckle up kiddos, this ones a doozy.

TW?: Like? everything. everything is a problem here lmao. Just weird. H/A stands for haunted attraction, i had one in mind but it felt disrespectful to mention.

I present to you... The Freaky Fic ™

                                                           ~*~*~

You knew this interviewer had a history of asking personal questions, which meant when you came on you were completely expecting to be asked something or other in regards to you and Colsons sex life, but asking about the freakiest sex you’ve ever had still felt a little forward. You weren’t thirty minutes into what would be an hour-and-forty-three-minute podcast and he was already pulling out what you originally thought to the big guns. Your eyes met Colsons as you silently tried to decide whether or not you should avoid the question.

“I already know what it would be, I'm just not sure we should say.”

“It’s that bad?” The interviewer asks

“Well, it’s more that everyone is gonna say its white people shit. Cause it is.” You took a moment to think about the statement “It wasn’t incest though! Obviously. Just a little weird.”

“What was it?” Colson asked, mind reeling through your personal kama sutra for anything that would stand out as the freakiest. Colson and you were definitely not vanilla, but that was the problem, wasn’t it? When you’ve done so much weird stuff, it’s hard to rank which would be the weirdest.

“The [H/a].” You say, watching as a flash of recognition falls over his face

“Seriously? That’s the worst thing you could think of? Cause I can think of, like, five worse than that, just off the top of my head.”

 “I mean, it’s definitely not the freakiest, but it’s a good story without it being super embarrassing or personal.” Colson nods in agreement, mumbling a small “Right”

“Yeah, go ahead. You can tell it.” He says, turning to face you in his spinny chair.

“Okay, so, I’m very superstitious and, like, paranoid right? I mean, I literally will not sleep in a room that has a mirror facing me. It doesn’t even have to be facing me, it could be facing the wall opposite me, but it has to be covered. I don’t even really trust it when it’s covered, honestly, I prefer it to be face down to the floor. Because mirrors are supposed to be portals to the after life, or whatever, and I remember hearing that if one is facing you while you sleep it’s easier for ghosts to manipulate you. It’s not that I necessarily believe that, or that I think if I slept with a mirror facing me that I’d die or something, but that I respect it. However, I think when places are advertised as haunted they usually aren’t. I mean you see these youtubers go to these places and film all these videos and it’s just- That’s not how hauntings usually are. Ghosts have an ability, to an extent, to manipulate your emotion. Have you ever heard of someone suddenly being overwhelmed by an emotion because they believe a loved one is near? It’s more like that, it’s very spiritual. Being haunted, coming from someone who ghosts seem to love, is nine times out of ten nothing like what Hollywood portrays it to be. It’s not to say that I think every one of these youtubers is lying, I think some of them definitely are, or that they were scared and when you’re scared it’s easy to blow little noises out of the water, but mostly I think it has to do with the places themself.”

Your story was cut off by the interviewer asking a question, 

“Hold on, you aren’t about to make a joke about freaky also meaning spooky, right?”  The interviewer asks

“I mean, you could totally make that joke, but it’s definitely a little kinky. I’m just giving some background.”

“Okay, continue.”

“Where was I? Oh, yes. I think when you go somewhere that is advertised as haunted they are selling you an experience. If you went to the [H/a] and nothing happened, some people would be disappointed by that and would want their money back, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“I think some of these places have audio recordings and mechanised doors, things that they can use to manipulate every room and give you a good scare. This is all theory, by the way, so don’t sue us.”

“You really think it's more plausible that they have a whole control room to scare people and that none of the workers have ever squealed than believe that these places are just… haunted?” The interviewer asked

“I don’t know. Maybe, if they only allowed people with a certain seniority and made them sign an NDA? And if the ones who control it get to give their coworkers a little scare so they come online and say they’ve had their own experiences? Yeah, I think it makes sense, and it's making them money, so why would they stop?”

“Okay, I guess.” He nodded along, entertaining the idea

“But, I also believe that if you talk to ghosts or call on them they will show up, so it’s kinda” you made a scale motion with your hands before continuing.

“Anyway, I went on board with this in mind. We were in our room, cuddled up on the bed and-” you took a moment to recall that night “I don’t remember if we were waiting for something to happen, or if it already had and we were waiting for something else. Anyway, we must’ve gotten bored, because we started making out.”

The crappy old hotel sheets shifted under you as your lips met Colsons, his warm hand reaching over to rest on your lower back. The kiss quickly became heated, your mouths smashing into one another, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip while his hand pulled you closer, your own reaching down to rub his growing bulge.

A short, fast knock came from the wall, breaking both the kiss and the silence.

“Oh, do you like that?” You ask, continuing to massage him through his loose sweatpants. Colson originally thought you had been referring to him, but quickly caught onto the fact that you were addressing the ‘ghost’. 

“Hm, what about this?” You continued, kissing your way down his body, pulling his pants down when you got to them and sliding his tip between your lips. A barely audible creak erupted from the room beside you, the bathroom sink had turned on, a small stream of water pouring aimlessly down into the sink. 

“Does that make you wet?” You ask, sucking one of his balls into your mouth as you stroke him. Colson found the whole act to be a bit odd, but you seemed to be enjoying yourself, so he let you continue. As fucked up as it was, the idea of a third party watching as the two of you were doing your thing was really getting you going. It wouldn’t have been a big deal to some, other than the fact that the supposed third party was a ghost.

“Do you like watching us fuck?” You slid your mouth down the length of his prick, hollowing out your cheeks before coming back up to continue “Tell me what you want me to do to him next.” You offer up, glancing up at Colson who looked equal parts freaked out and turned on.

“You’re crazy. God that’s hot.” He said, throwing his head back while you let out a small laugh. A book slides from the coffee table across the room, falling to the floor and landing on its spine, flipping open to a random page. You weren’t entirely sure what that implied, but the only thing that came to mind was him fucking you on that table. You took a moment to ponder it before deciding if you tried it would break and that you didn’t wanna bother paying the place for a new one.

You began kissing your way back up his body instead, admiring his tattoos as you go. Your lips landed back on his, reaching down to slide the tip of his prick through your folds, gathering your arousal. Stopping the kiss for a moment, you opened your mouth to take a breath. Colson took this opportunity to spit in your mouth, connecting your lips again soon after.

“Think the ghost liked that?” He said, reaching down to grab his hard dick from your hand, teasing your hole. You shrugged, leaning back into the kiss, moving your hips along with his movements. 

After a minute or two of teasing, you swore you felt the bed begin to shake. It started off slow and small, almost as if Colson was shaking under you and it was transferring to the bed, before slowly building to a much more noticeable rumble.

“Oh, I think it wants us to shake the bed.” You say, a smirk playing on your lips, a gasp falling past them as you felt colson slip inside you. You happily obliged, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. You didn’t realise how badly you needed this, you couldn’t help the moans slipping past your lips as you fucked each other as hard as you could manage, trying your best to make sure the bed shook. You were looking down at Colson when suddenly his face disappeared, replaced by impenetrable darkness.

“What the fuck.” The interviewer mentioned, more amused than judgemental “I can't believe you’re telling me this. I can’t believe this isn’t the freakiest shit you’ve ever done.”

“Well, the ghost thing was kind of a joke. I mean, it happened, but it was more about the fact that someone was obviously watching us, or the concept of that.”

“Right, right. You guys like an audience, I see.”

“While it was dark though, I swear I felt a hand slide up the side of my thigh, I know it wasn’t Colsons cause I could-” You cut yourself off “I’m not gonna say how, but I felt both of his hands on me.” 

“Oh shit, forreal? You never told me that part.” Colson said, you gave a small nod in his direction before continuing.

 “But then the lights came back on.”

The lights had only been off for about a minute, small sounds of things moving barely audible over the sounds you two had been making, Colson flipping you over in the dark, pounding away at your hips. When they flicked back on, the room was messy, your eyes scanned the room, falling on the complimentary ouija that sat on the table first. It had fallen out of its box, the lid on the floor next to it. Next, you realized the closet had slid open, it had one of those bendy doors that made it so when you slid it open it bent out towards you, they were called bifold closet doors, if you remembered correctly. 

It was slid halfway open to reveal the empty closet behind it, the only thing adorning the shelf being a couple lone close hangers. As you watched, one looked as if it were smacked off and fell to the floor.

“It wasn’t hot anymore at that point. I didn’t see anything, I think it was my paranoia-- remember when you were a little kid laying in bed and you were like, there is a person crouching beside my bed right now and if I look over the edge at them they will have no more incentive not to kill me?” A silent understanding “It was like that, I don't know how but I know what they look like and I was fully convinced that person was crouching next to us on the bed and if I looked over there I would see him. Because the bed was on the wall, and it’s a big bed, a queen I believe, and colson and I are laying with our head at the foot of it, there was plenty of room to the side of us cause we weren’t exactly in the middle. “Wait, you said that you believed the hauntings were mechanical, so do you think this was a ghost, or a worker?”

“I think it may have been the lady at the front desk, because when we came out she asked us if we were having a good day. I don't know. I don’t think I’ve ever been turned off so fast, I mean at first the idea of a ghost or a worker watching us have sex was hot, but the thought of that… thing being there with us-- That wasn’t hot. We just, kinda, silently put our clothes on and walked out to the lobby. We went back later and got our stuff and checked out early. All I know is it was a dumb fucking idea.”

The day after the interview was released twitter was filled with variations of “If Mgk and his girlfriend wanted an audience they could’ve just asked me.” 

Guess you should’ve expected that one.

[macchiatooru]

ᴬⁿ ᵃˡˡ⁻ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ³ʳᵈ ᵍʸᵐ ˢqᵘᵃᵈ?

With Kenma? And Lev and Hinata? Absolute College AU vibes? Despite my doubts about the productivity, I definitely need this. It’s around 1AM as I type, and I literally have three papers to finish, with one due tomorrow. HAHAHAHAHA. (I wrote this note last night, so it’s not entirely applicable now, but well- I have to submit the second tomorrow and the third the following day... I hope HAHAHA)

Note: If you’re also up at such ungodly hours and want to add to this when you’re stuck with a paper too, or a lesson, or something, go ahead! If you want to modify something, don’t hesitate to say it!

The situation, for example, is that you’re writing a paper, and you don’t know how to continue it anymore. Luckily, you have enough options to kill the time until your brain is working properly again. The apartment―whoever owns it, maybe you guys were sharing or had connecting ones or were neighbors or whatnot―would literally look like, I don’t know, a convention? It’s like there are different stalls with different activities. Take your pick!

Tsukishima’s Corner:

I can imagine that he has this set-up in the far end of the living room where he has a table against the wall and a chair with a blanket on it

And he always has a drink with him, whether it’s a soda or an Iced Americano. (that just gave me Yoongi vibes ahhh my heart)

Of course, he has his headphones on. Not surprising.

He’s pretty calm when he does his schoolwork, and his focus is just wow

So, don’t expect him to pay attention to you that much. Again, not surprising.

If you have an actual question though, I think you can ask him!

He’ll help you out, but be wary of the sass and teasing.

It’s highly possible for him to annoy the shit out of you before you guys solve the problem, btw.

If you have chips with you, he’ll take some without asking permission smh but he’s so idufhsdbkfhda can you really say no?

You can get back at him by repetitively calling him “Tsukki”.

“Cut it out.”

“No can do, Tsu~ Kki!”

Emphasize! the! syllables! because he probably lowkey thinks it’s kinda cute

Unless he doesn’t and he throws the blanket at your face to shut you up

Don’t annoy him when he’s in a bad mood, okay?

He’ll really appreciate it if you give him space on those days

But he’ll also appreciate it so so so much if you’re the one who hands him his usual drink.

Despite being the person who could really rile you up the most

He’s actually nice... in his own way!

Lev and Hinata’s “Quiet” Pile of Pillows:

What am I even saying?

There’s nothing quiet about that part of the living room.

Lev and Hinata like studying in their “own kind of comfort”

And that is with their “study” blankets―they have separate ones for sleeping―on the floor and their pillows on top.

They study with the TV on

A series on Netflix is playing the entire time.

Nobody minds, really, because for some reason, most of you can study with some noise in the background. Those who can’t, however, just listen to music on their own.

They have hot or iced chocolate―depends on their mood―made either by you, Akaashi, or Kuroo.

You never asked Bokuto to do it again. Never again.

One time, he made the mistake of giving the “kids” coffee, and well, was that some night.

Lev and Hinata have common classes, so they work on some of their assignments together.

Expect them to be very excited when they get something right and very frustrated when they can’t understand what they’re doing.

Probably just a spot for you to take a quick break, maybe lie your head down on Lev’s favorite pillow to annoy him.

It’s not because he doesn’t want to share, but because you just took it right out of his lap.

They’ll be really happy kiddos if you join them! Please give these babies the attention they need.

Also, it helps to give them snacks to shut them up.

Bokuto’s Spot on the Couch:

That became his permanent spot after Akaashi sent him there because of that one time that big baby reaaally got on his nerves.

He has a pillow supporting his back as he leans against an armrest, legs stretched out in front of him and laptop on his, well, lap. HAHAHA sorry

He also likes working with the TV on, so it was a suitable place for him.

Bokuto’s drink would either be a can of soda or a protein shake.

Keep your phone on standby.

You have to take a pic of the pouty face he makes when he doesn’t get something.

He’s so cute he can have my heart-

“Akaashiiiii~ Why won’t you help me out?”

Akaashi would remind him that not only was he a year higher, but he also had a different major.

*cue Bo’s emo mode with matching droopy hair fml he’s literally so cute*

He gets distracted easily because he never puts his phone on silent

Probably chats with Konoha idk

Or gets carried away watching game highlights.

He already startled all of you a few times.

“OOOOOOOOOOOH. DAAAAAAAAAAAMN. THAT WAS SO GOOD.”

“Bokuto-san-”

If you choose to go to him, he can’t really help you with the paper you’re writing.

However, he gives THE BESTEST HUGS!

I think a lot of us agree that he’s a walking heater, so getting a hug from that beefy boi? Especially when it’s cold?

H E A V E N

Or that’s just me being biased, but is it really just me?

I love him.

Kuroo’s Kitchen Kounter:

Now, I’m definitely sure I’m being biased because- I mean- JUST-

One of the kitchen counters faces the common living area where everyone is spread out.

Imagine walking from wherever you were previously just staring at your laptop with that constant 132 words plastered on the corner of the screen and you’re well-aware that it has to be 2000 by tomorrow

And seeing business-related major Kuroo, sitting on a stool, immersed in his work, Excel sheets and documents being the only inhabitants of his laptop screen?

I’m literally giving myself away I-

He has glasses on and he’s tapping the end of his pen on his chin and at this point I’m hyperventilating

THE FACE HE MAKES WHEN HE CONCENTRATES

From time to time, he would swivel the stool around, take a sip of the black iced coffee he always brews at night, and eat whatever snack was available (e.g. chips, popcorn, sandwiches, instant noodles, sometimes asks Bokuto to make another protein shake, etc.)

He doesn’t really listen to music and can easily drown out the noise on his own because he concentrates so much.

You can always count on him to entertain you

Because despite the amount of focus he puts into his homework and problem sets, he also wants any excuse to tear his eyes of his screen.

He’s good at papers, so he can help you with that in the best way he can

Also asks if you would like to take a break and grab a snack with him

And can be a flirt if he’s in the mood, but when he’s tired, he has a soft and sleepy smile (except he’s not really sleepy because of the coffee, he’s just not putting that much effort)

Although he will annoy and provoke you while the two of you are on break

He’s the best person to cry to when you’re really stressed out.

I want him.

Akaashi’s Atelier:

He literally owns the dining table, his work neatly spread out.

I can almost imagine him studying architecture

But nah I guess he just really likes practicing how to capture anything and everything he can observe

And by capturing, I really mean that there’s a pile of photos there somewhere.

Afterwards, he draws them, paying attention to every detail.

He finishes schoolwork before any of you do.

His concentration surpasses that of Kuroo’s, no joke.

You can’t disturb him when he’s working on his academic requirements, so come back later when he’s sketching the hours away.

If you want to do your paper beside him though? Go.

His concentration is not only top tier but also contagious.

He’ll share the dining table, but only to you and, occasionally, Kuroo.

Bokuto? Only if he’s super emo.

Akaashi’s really nice!

He’ll initiate a conversation with you if you’re taking a break and he’s just on his sketchbook or experimenting with graphic design or something.

If you want to see a passionate but shy Akaashi, ask him what he’s working on.

I just know his eyes will literally light up.

He might be drinking tea, mint tea?

Water most of the time, but he always smells like mint and fresh laundry ahhh be still, my heart

Go to him if you really want to be productive and not get distracted by anything else because his eyes and the way he’s so into what he’s doing might actually be what distracts you

He is the epitome of grace under pressure, such a beautiful human being ha ha ha I wish

Kenma’s Den:

Well, what did you really expect?

Nah, kidding.

Kenma’s the only one in his room because he’s probably streaming.

His audience is mostly up at night, so yeah.

He definitely has ramen, chips, and soda

Which he’s willing to share with you as long as you don’t mess his game up don’t try I swear

Tbh, it’s actually really comforting to stay in his room especially when you’re really stressed out.

You can rest your eyes and take a quick nap.

He knows that he should wake you up after fifteen minutes, so don’t worry about sleeping through the night without finishing your paper.

He’s so sweet please

It’s so comforting to hear his fingers tapping away, a literal lullaby that gets you every time.

At some point, some people probably caught you slipping under his duvet IT WAS YOUR FIRST LOWKEY SCANDAL HAHAHAHAHA

Which lasted for just an hour because Kenma’s viewers knew him enough to know what his facial expressions meant

He definitely can’t help you with your paper. Such a busy boi.

But if he’s in the lobby that’s what you call it, right? of whatever game he’s playing, he’s willing to listen to your rants.

A quiet listener, but you know that he genuinely cares about you.

Massage his shoulders if you can! He likes that.

───── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☪ .* :☆ﾟ. ─────

background photo by NeONBRAND on unsplash

[chaoticspacefam]

6.  “How do you think this will all end?” for D'leah, please <3

Pinky once again picking THE juiciest possible combo of prompt + characters, everybody go thank her bc I had a blast with this 👀 I’ve been wanting to write a oneshot for this part of the story for a while and this is the perfect excuse mwahaha 

@palepinkycat here you go! Sorry this one took a little while, I haven’t had time to sit and write it out till now, but hopefully it’s a decent enough length to make it up to you! 👀

I have more to say about the body language I described in here (namely the significance of the “under chin” snuggles & also why D’leah Yelled At Abe When He Tried To Do It To Her At The End), but I have a Worldbuilding tag somewhere in my mentions so I’mma save it for that basically. More Tomato Lore gonna drop sometime in the next week or two once I’m done with the drawings skshsks I tried to do one for this one too but it was not coming out right so maybe some other time XD

I’ve seen a lot of fics explore what it’s like to have a Force bond and communicate with it but I’ve seen very few that deal with the “what if it breaks when one of them dies” side of it, so this is my take on what happens and how it probably feels for the “surviving” party; I usually describe my Force bonds as a sort of ethereal “thread” type thing that then connects their emotions/souls/however you want to see it and yadda yadda, so...you can’t tell me that snapping that thread wouldn’t fucking hurt ;-; For extra heart hurty, the song quotes were the main two songs I listened to while working on each “part” of this fic, so you can use them for ambience if you want ;)

As always I use the Coruscant Translator for (most of) my High Sith, translations are included on the bottom however :) (since the quote from the prompt is said in Sith, they’re gonna talk in High Sith sometimes being well...Sith :3)

Abaron is the best brother-in-law, I do not make the rules. D’leah you need to apologise to this man immediately 😂 she does, immediately after this (not shown) dw, I swear

Timeline/Setting: 3729 BBY (roughly/according to the still-holey timeline I’ve been working on since the “canon” one was released) Immediately post-Valkoriate takeover. As in, literally just happened slash is happening as this occurs.

Warnings: Character Death mention (Kissai), Breaking Force Bonds, Plenty of angst (it was from an “angsty” prompt list, after all! 😬) , possible slight gore (?) in the form of description of a former  injury from a concussion grenade (just to be safe lol), and ofc some Cuss Words (™) 

^^ these are ur warnings, click past this cut at ur own risk and I am not responsible for how you react bc you chose to pass the warning k thanks ^^

“Don’t care if he’s guilty, don’t care if he’s not. He’s good and he’s bad and he’s all that I’ve got. Oh lord, oh lord, I’m begging you please...don’t take that sinner from me -” ~ The Civil Wars, “Devil’s Backbone”

It all happened so fast, they had to react fast if they were going to save the twins, and D’leah knew that. She’d tried so desperately to help her husband, pouring as much of her Force energy as she could through the bond they shared. It had always worked before, why wasn’t it working NOW?! D’leah didn’t know, but she could feel him growing weaker and weaker by the second. 

D’leah - his voice was so distant and faint, she almost didn’t want to acknowledge the reality of it. No, no no, he wasn’t dying he couldn’t be dying, no no no…. D-Don’t do this. Sai… her grip on the control cluster tightened until her knuckles turned pale, they were already in the air. It would be easy to do what she knew he was about to ask...but it would mean leaving him to his fate. Could she do that?

Dimly, D’leah could hear Abaron chattering to the girls behind her as he made sure they stayed in their seats, but she couldn’t hear the words any of them were saying, there was just him and that horrible, ominous weakness bleeding from her husband’s end of the bond. 

You need to run… Kissai urged her. PROMISE me. The girls-

I can’t...not without you! her mind-voice caught as if the words were difficult to form, she felt him slip further away and frantically tried to bolster his strength up again, but somehow, she couldn’t put her finger on how, it only seemed to make the other Pureblood weaker. Sai, snichi… she pleaded, and she could feel the barest attempt at a smile from her husband as he gave her his final farewell, 

Nu aki j’us, D’leah. RUN. For me...

His words were far weaker now, more forced, as if even Kissai knew he was running out of time to convey his plea. D’leah realised with a growing sense of horror that they really didn’t have another option, she had to protect their daughters. She reached towards the navcomputer to punch in the quickest hyperspace code she could think of that would get them as far away from Imperial Space as possible, but never managed to get there. 

The pain hit her so fast that D’leah had no time to prepare for it even if in reality, she’d known it was coming. First, came the white-hot metal rod of pain that jammed right down the center of her spine. Every nerve ending felt like it was on fire and it was this that was enough to cause her to cry out in pain and lose her grip on the ship’s controls as the Pureblood was thrown sideways in her seat. She managed to fall with just enough grace to get herself out of Abaron’s way and as she hit the floor and the pain kept coming, she faintly heard the man curse in High Sith as he lunged across to take her place in the pilot’s seat before they nose-dived into Force-only-knows what, out here in open space like they were. 

Then she felt the thread of Force energy between herself and her husband straining, threatening to snap, and before long, it did. D’leah knew logically there was nothing she could do to stop it, and that trying would make it hurt more, but she was desperate and on reflex she could not help but try. Frantically, she reached out with her own Force energy and clasped for each thread as it tore away from her, bit by bit, as if clutching at the strings would somehow, futilely, keep him here. Would let him live. But still, the pain came again, and again, and she fancied that the sinews of flesh being ripped from bone when she lost part of her face to that concussion grenade had been less painful than this. “No...no no no no please...please! NO!!!” Everything else was so faint and far-away in comparison that D’leah didn’t realise that her scream had been out loud this time, her fingers fumbling for her heart, though she couldn’t rightly tell if that was where the pain was truly coming from and it was simply a reflexive reaction. 

For a long while she clenched her teeth through wave after wave of pain, and while it didn’t stop, it became easier with every breath for D’leah to push it into the background. Slowly, the Pureblood’s blurry vision cleared and she realised the twins were staring down at her, wide-eyed in horror. 

She needed to get up. She needed to go to them, she needed to be strong. For them.

Saarai reached for her first, but she scooped both of them up into her arms as best as she was able, all but falling into the seat where the twins had been huddled moments before. The girls both clamored to settle themselves as close to her as they could without pushing the other out of her grasp too. D’leah held onto them as tightly as she could, only vaguely aware of Saarai’s voice as she chattered a question up at her, catching every second word or so. “Moooom!” as she reached up towards her again, and “Dad...gonna find us...right?” 

Their mother shushed them softly, adjusting her grip to fit both of the twins, as best she was able, beneath her chin. Safe. They were safe there.

“Shhh, shh-shh, my little one.” she croaked shakily, a tremor passing through her frame as she tried to keep her voice steady and convincing through the lie. “He’ll catch up later, don’t you worry.” 

They sat in silence, D’leah clutching them against her chest as if they, too, might disappear if she let them go for even one second, and Abaron took over piloting the ship so that she didn’t have to. He’d practically done all the work already, anyway. She risked a glance down at her daughters, and caught the wary glint in Saarai’s golden eyes, the sideward glance at her sister, and she knew that they knew it was a lie. But she had not the heart to tell them that yet. Not now, through the tears that had begun to stream from her eyes despite her attempts to hold them at bay. She did not mean to cry, but what else could she do??

Saarai’s tiny fingers reached up shakily, when she realised what they were, to brush the liquid tracks from her chin and the spurs on her jaw. It only made her cry more and hold them tighter.

“Nunchi woiunoks, oi ai utja…” she breathed soothingly, hoping it was convincing enough for the twins. “Mom’s got you...nothing is ever going to hurt you while I’m here.” She held them like that right until they landed.

“The daughter of a lawyer, told the fallen priest “it’s a cold, cold place in the arms of a thief”, And tapping at the arrow in her heel, she said “LEAVE ME ALONE! ...but just don’t leave me here, alright?” Alright..” ~ Iron & Wine, “Arms of a Thief” 

By the time they arrived at their destination, some planet called “Rishii” that she doesn’t ever recall knowing of before - but perhaps that’s a good thing - and Abaron managed to find them a place to stay, the pain she had felt had dulled to more of a phantom throbbing than anything else. But her consciousness felt vulnerable and empty without Kissai’s own Force presence winding around hers, she felt alone, even though physically she was not. D’leah had sung and rocked the twins to sleep, with some effort, and glanced down at them as they slept, Ni’kasi’s arms curled around her sister as she burrowed under her chin for comfort beneath the blanket their mother had tucked around them.

The pain was gone, and in its wake came the FURY. It bubbled to the surface all too quickly, and D’leah began to tremble again, a growl rumbling deep in her throat as she realised that first, the girls were theoretically out of danger, and secondly, she still had a ship. She could go back. 

“I’m going to kill that fucker.” the Pureblood wheeled for the door, only to find it blocked by Abaron, who seemed to have pre-empted her outburst. She stopped short, a hiss slipping past her teeth as her lip curled back to show her fangs briefly. “Abe. Move.” she snarled, resisting the urge to shout so as to not wake Saarai and Ni’kasi from their slumber. The tips of Abaron’s jaw spurs shook as, for once in his life, he declined to follow her order. 

“No. My Lord, I can’t let you do that.”

It took every ounce of her self control not to do worse, but as it was, D’leah tried to lunge for him so she could force her way past, he might not have been taller than her but he was stronger, and heavier too. The man reacted just as quickly, his own hands closing around her wrists to push back and keep her in place, his own feet firmly rooted in the doorway as he grunted. “D’leah! Listen to me, please!” 

The tears threatened to come to the surface again, her eyes burning hot, though this time the matriarch forced them down, though her voice still quivered as she spat, each word punctuated with a quiver in her voice.

“You have no idea how I am feeling right now!”

“Not wholly, no.” Abaron argued, releasing her arms as she dropped them back to her sides, her remaining spurs still rattling softly in agitation. “But I know that going back there now is foolish, my Lord!” 

“Get. Out. Of. My. Way!” D’leah hissed, though she didn’t have the strength left after the manic dash away from Kaas to call the lightning to her fingertips and lend to the threat she was trying to punctuate. “H-He is sitting there, on our homeworld, w-with our people’s blood on his hands!” she tried to shove him again, but her fist connected dully with the plated armour on the other Pureblood’s chest and didn’t make much of an impact on him. “They’re all dead and y-you just want me to -!!” 

“I’m trying to protect you, my Lord!” his teeth flashed back at her, yet another thing she would not have stood for if she was half as lucid as usual. He continued on further, his voice a low, agitated growl as he lowered his face to hers as if to punctuate his point. “That is my charge, it’s what you bid me to do and I will not have you risking your life for such a foolish venture, you’re not thinking straight! We are the only ones left! It’s my duty to make sure that all three of you stay alive!” 

She flinched at the reminder. Them, and Vowrawn, perhaps...if he was sneaky enough. But Abaron was right, going back would put him at risk, too. His eyes searched hers frantically, and his hands remained raised as if Abaron wasn’t completely sure he wouldn’t need to hold her back again. D’leah was in half a mind about it herself, she wasn’t sure how to react now. And what her brother-in-law said next put the nail in the coffin, so to speak: 

“Dias dari j'us minti pa saû iki wisa qorit?” he urged, the words a muttered whisper.

The Pureblood matriarch felt her anger fizzle out almost instantly as the realization sank in. The girls....they were only children. They were far too young for this. Too young, they were too young for this talk of death and loss and grief; too young to have to understand if she left them here and did not come back either. Their father’s passing would weigh heavily on them for the rest of their lives, they didn’t deserve to have to lose their mother, and on the same day, too...

She deflated, her shoulders sagging in defeat, and another tremor wracked her frame as she dropped her own gaze to the floor for the moment. “Abe...I-” 

“I know.” he sighed, relaxing as he stepped up to draw her against his chest sympathetically. She almost didn’t react, until she felt his chin brush the top of her head and she realized what he was trying to do. Despite his attempt at the gesture being comforting, D’leah jerked herself away from him to growl warningly. “Dari nindz.”

He looked momentarily taken aback, holding his hands up amicably as he apologised. “I was just...I thought you needed-” “Nu sûa nindz zo ardira!” she snapped at him, but mercifully, turned away from the door and stalked further inside once more.

____________________________________________________

Sith translations, in order:

Snichi... - please... 

Nu aki j’us. - I (romantic) love you.

Nunchi woiunoks, oi ai utja. - Sweet little one, it’s alright.

Dias dari j'us minti pa saû iki wisa qorit? - How do you think this will all end? 

Dari nindz - Don’t.

Nu sûa nindz zo ardira! - I’m not a child!

[celosiaa]

the truth is like blood underneath your fingernails (chapter 1)

Summary: Love, Hunger, pain, anxiety.

Jon feels it all at once in the wake of statement withdrawal, and can hardly bear it.

CW: use of exercise as a form of self injury, fighting, self-hatred, alcohol use, language

this is for a prompt sent in by the lovely @transcendentalbf​, who requested a statement withdrawal fic.  I'm not going to lie, this one got pretty heavy, even for me--and I don't usually skimp on the angst.  be mindful of the tags and the content warnings!  there will also be a second chapter!

Faster. Faster. Faster.

Heart pounding, pulse racing, Jon flies through the Highland countryside, hair streaming behind him from where his ponytail has come undone.  There is no feeling quite like this—the shaking of effort in every corner of his body, every nerve alight, lungs heaving and overburdened.  No matter the hurt, no matter the discomfort, Jon has yet to find anything so wonderfully distracting as running.

Even so, the constant static of Hunger still hums in the background, buzzing somewhere between his skull and his spine.  He’s learned over the weeks of refusing it statements that he cannot run into town, cannot risk looking anyone in the eyes without being overcome by Want.  The Beholding is not pleased with him, and Jon knows it—feels it in the way that his every action has been poisoned by the relentless desire to Eat and to Know. 

Martin has undoubtedly gotten the worst of it.  When Jon had first announced that he was going to be running in the afternoons, he was elated—chuffed at the idea of doing something together other than their routine of cooking, eating, sleeping day in and day out.  Jon had even let him come on his run that day, and knows that he would have loved it, were he not prevented from applying his usual method of quite literally running himself into the ground.  Their average pace was not nearly enough to distract him, or even to burn out the anxiety that’s taken hold of his chest, and so Jon had told Martin he’d prefer to be alone.

Poor choice of words.

This had caused somewhat of a row, with Jon’s sudden inability to articulate exactly what he meant providing most of the fodder.  Martin was upset, thought that he had done something wrong, thought that Jon didn’t want to be with him anymore—all things that Jon knows are the fragments of the Lonely still residing in him, still marked by the faded white of his naturally dark curls.  With difficulty, Jon had managed to break through, explaining that he had always liked to have some time alone.  That he needed a few moments just to think and process and enjoy the peacefulness on his own. 

This wasn’t entirely a lie—but it wasn’t the truth either, and it left a foul taste in his mouth all the same.

Martin had believed him, of course.  He’d even apologized the next day by going down to the village and buying him a phone holster he could strap onto his arm while he runs.  With a plastered-on smile, Jon had accepted the gift.  He will never tell Martin that he can’t bear the way it sticks to his skin, or that playing music is completely out of the question.  He will never tell him that none of this is about health or exercise—it’s about the hurt, it’s about the distraction, it’s about the punishment that Jon knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he deserves.

He’s thirty minutes into the run now, and he’s reached the point at which singular thoughts can no longer filter across his mind.  Pushing constantly further, faster, harder strips all of this away, and he’s left with the blessed silence of a clear mind.

That is, until his foot lands a bit funny on a rock, and it sends shooting pains through his knee—old injury reignited in an instant.

Fuck.

He stumbles, hands reaching forward as he begins to lose his balance.  Through luck, or skill, or perhaps sheer determination, he manages to stay upright and moving forward, knee throbbing in protest at every step.  But he cannot afford to stop now—refuses to give in to the building static.

Breathe through it.  Just breathe through it, a kind teacher had once told him in the wake of losing his parents.  He does his best to follow that advice now, the pain at least giving him something to focus on, pushing the Hunger to the back of his mind.  Even so, the incessant pulling at his injury is enough to plant a permanent wince on his face.

Martin is not going to be pleased with me.

---

Upon entering their little home, Jon’s senses are immediately overcome with powerful-smelling spices, floating through each and every dust-laden corner.  From where he stands, he can see just a bit of Martin standing at the kitchen counter, carefully chopping an onion using the knife skills Jon had so recently taught him.  In spite of himself, Jon’s chest swells with pride, pulling the corners of his mouth into a small smile, before the reality of his situation overtakes him again.

Perhaps I can sneak past, get in the shower before he notices.

Setting out to do just that, Jon silently pulls of his trainers and begins to cross the room—heel-toe, heel-toe, ever so careful of the creaking floorboards of their kitchen.  But of course, Martin would choose to glance over his shoulder at this very moment.

Of course.

“Oh there you are!  How was it?” he asks, voice light and jovial as he stirs something in a large pot.

“Good, good,” Jon replies hurriedly, trying to take advantage of Martin’s distraction and hobble as quickly as he can toward the shower.

“Wait, wait, before you go—come taste this and see what you think.”

Damn it.

With steps as measured and careful as he can manage, Jon walks toward him, keeping a smile firmly plastered on his face.  Of course, his efforts are in vain—the second Jon begins crossing the room, Martin’s face falls.

“You’re limping.  Why are you limping?” he asks, brows knitting together in concern.

“Erm—got a little carried away.  I’m fine, it’ll loosen up in the shower,” Jon assures, dropping his eyes, and attempting to walk away.

Martin grabs him by his forearm—with no real force, but the pressure on his overly-sensitive skin is enough to send lightning bolts of agitation through him.  Static begins to rise.

“That doesn’t look fine.  Here, why don’t you sit down—”

“I’m fine, Martin—”

“Just put some ice on it for a bit—”

“I said, I’m FINE, for god’s sake!”

Jon’s words bend and twist into a seething shout as he yanks his forearm from Martin’s gentle grasp, the static flaring from him like a beacon.  The eyes that meet his are no longer the loving concern of a just a few moments ago—turning hard and angry at this undeserved outburst.  Staring at him coldly for a moment, Martin simply pivots on his heel and begins heatedly stirring at the large pot, head bowed.

Seeing Martin this way dissolves the fire of anger in Jon’s belly at once, replaced instead with the cold bitterness of shame.

God, what is wrong with me?

“I-I’m sorry, Martin, you didn’t…you didn’t deserve that,” he mumbles, running a hand over his wan face.

“No, I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

Martin does not turn around, continuing to stir agitatedly at his pot, and Jon can hear him taking deep breaths in through his nose, out through his mouth.  He hates that he’s the cause of this; hates that Martin has to resort to these things just to deal with the frustration he brings to the table.

And the Eye drinks it all in.

…I can’t let it.

Resolved to at least try to make things better, Jon moves slowly around the kitchen table and to the freezer, taking Martin’s advice and grabbing a bag of frozen vegetables.  Sinking down painfully into a chair, he undoes the Velcro straps of his brace and plops the pack down onto the swollen wreckage of his knee.  Admittedly, Martin had been right—the coolness immediately begins to pull some of the pulsing, swelling ache from his limb, drawing a long sigh from somewhere deep in his chest.

“You need to prop it up too, here—”

Martin has turned back to him at last, reaching around behind Jon to grab a pillow from the sofa and set it on the chair in front of him.  As Jon begins to lift his leg up and onto it, he cannot quite bite back a groan of pain, nor hide the wince that floods his face.  Concernedly, Martin watches him, hands on his hips in consternation.

“You really did a number on yourself, didn’t you?” he mutters softly, brows knitting together.

Jon cannot bring himself to answer, too ashamed even to look up.

Don’t worry about me, he wants desperately to say.  I’m not worth it.

I’m not worth the hurt that I cause.

When Martin turns away again without a word, Jon’s chest aches in a way it hasn’t in quite some time.  Certainly not since he heard those devastating words in the Lonely, from Martin’s own mouth—

“I really loved you, you know?”

Perhaps the same is true now.

“Loved.”

Jon squeezes his eyes shut against the rising tide of emotions, threatening to burst from him when—

Martin kneels in front of him, placing a second frozen bag beneath his knee before carefully wrapping an ace bandage around both, holding them together around the joint with a wonderfully relieving pressure.  At once, Jon’s eyes begin to sting.

I don’t deserve this.

“Thank you,” he whispers, full of shame.  “I’m sorry.”

From where he kneels in front of him, Martin lifts his head to search Jon’s eyes for a moment, worrying at his bottom lip in consideration.  At last, he stands to his full height, taking a deep breath before removing the dish towel from where he’s draped it across one broad shoulder.  He swipes it gently over the beads of sweat that are still rolling down Jon’s face, and to his utter surprise—kisses him tenderly over the temple.

Jon’s cheeks flare with heat at this, warmth immediately pooling in his stomach.

He is utterly, hopelessly smitten with the man in front of him.

God help him.

“It’s alright, Jon,” Martin says at last, voice returning to something approaching his normal volume. 

“Look, I’m really proud of you for running, alright?  It’s good for you.  But not when your hurt yourself like this,” he continues, tapping lightly at the packs encasing Jon’s knee, forcing Jon to meet his eyes with the intensity of his stare.

“It’s not worth that.  Okay?” he ends in a whisper.

Jon merely nods, overwhelmed and embarrassed by the entire situation.  Martin, gentle as always, reaches a hand up toward his hair, pushing down the frizzled locks that had been blown wild by the Highland winds.

“Alright, then,” he adds simply, turning back to their dinner with a lopsided smile.

---

The next day, Jon finds himself scarcely able to bear this particular combination of pain and Hunger.

Martin had made him promise the previous evening that he would take the day off from running, allowing his knee at least the chance to heal up a bit before he began abusing it again.  While he knows Martin is right, knows he’s trying to look after him—Jon cannot bear the roiling anxiety of inactivity, his body screaming at him to run run run just to escape his own mind.

Once again, Martin bears the brunt of it all.

He knows he’s being impossible; knows that Martin is nearly at his wits end, yet the relentless static fuzzes out whatever words he’s snapping at him now—and for what reason, Jon is no longer sure.  The anger tumbles out of him like ink over parchment, pulling all his pain, frustration, and Hunger from his shaking form and placing it on Martin’s shoulders.

And Martin is beyond overwrought.

Turning toward him sharply, Martin bears down on him with cold gaze.

“You know what?  I’ve had enough!  I’ve had enough,” he shouts, voice melting into a laugh that holds no humor.

Jon’s mouth snaps shut at once, the static fading to nothing now that it’s work has been done.

“I consider myself a patient person, Jon, I really do—but this has pushed me quite to my limit, so congratulations,” he spits, grabbing his keys from the table.

No no no no no

“I’m going to the village.  Don’t wait up,” he mutters with finality, striding across the room and out the door with a BANG.

Oh god oh god oh god

Left alone now in the quiet emptiness of their—of Daisy’s house, Jon stumbles backwards, burying his face in his hands.

Why did you do this why did you do this why did you do this

He begs the Eye to answer him, beating his palm into his own chest, and cannot hold back the flood of Knowledge seeping across his mind.

His love, leaning against the side of the cottage, chest heaving with sobs.

His love, striding angrily down toward the pub, tears still streaming down his face as it begins to rain.

His love, getting sloppy-drunk alone, all alone—with no one to walk him home, to make sure he’s safe—

Please.

I can’t bear it.

Please.

Jon folds forward over his legs, sick at the thought that he caused this, that he’s the one who so severely hurt him—and promptly falls to the floor in a wave of dizziness.

God, Martin.

I’m so sorry, my love.

Even now, he cannot bring his tears to the surface, simply lying on the floor until his chest no longer feels as though it’s been pinned to the earth’s core.  At last, he forces himself to get up, to move forward—shirking the thought of dinner and moving directly up the stairs toward their bed.

Daisy’s bed, he corrects himself internally.

God knows if he’ll ever come back to make it ours.

---

Jon cannot bring himself to any semblance of sleep until he knows Martin has returned.

The Eye constantly pulls at him to look, to see where he’s gone and what he’s doing now, but Jon refuses.  He will not invade Martin’s privacy like that—not if he can ever help it.

Please come home.

Please.

Please.

Lying silent and still beneath the covers, the room around him is illuminated only by the light of the moon peeking in through the window.  Even in the stillness there remains the static, though pushed down considerably now by the weight of Jon’s own sadness.  Of his regret.

Drink it.  Drink it all, if that will satisfy you, Jon thinks bitterly, wishing to god that it would be enough.

At last, he hears the unlocking of the front door below—a bit clumsy and heavy-handed, telling Jon immediately that he’s still a bit drunk.  Relief floods him at the sound all the same, and he turns away from the bedroom door to feign sleep, wanting to give Martin some privacy.

Though his movements are somewhat sloppy with alcohol, Martin does his best to tiptoe quietly around the room, undressing to his boxers and replacing his jumper and binder with a t-shirt.  Slowly, ever so slowly, he crawls into bed, making every effort not to disturb Jon at the other side.  Jon feels as though he could cry with the obvious love he pours into every gentle motion, before—

He can sense Martin’s arms reaching for him, hovering over his back to pull him close, as always—before dropping them.

God.

He settles instead for pulling the blanket further over Jon’s shoulders, muttering as he does so, words slurring—

“Don’ understand.  Jus’ don’ understand.”

Oh, Martin.

Jon’s heart crumbles to pieces.

He cannot bear to leave this the way things are—not tonight, nor any other.  Flipping around at once to face him, Martin’s eyes snap back open—wide with concern and anxiety.

“I know you don’t, Martin.  I know, and I’m so sorry,” Jon whispers, cupping his cheek with one scarred hand, tears still burning painfully in his throat.

Martin’s tears seem to have no trouble reaching the surface, spilling over at once in rivulets down his face and off the tip of his nose.

“I don’t understand, Jon, I don’t understand,” he sobs, clapping a hand over his mouth in an attempt to stem the flow, inhaling shakily behind it.

Look what you’ve done look what you’ve done

“I’m so sorry, darling, none of this is your fault, I’m so sorry” Jon murmurs over and over, pulling Martin into his chest—an invitation for him to let go of all his anger and sadness in the crook of his shoulder.

Martin does so, clutching at Jon’s back until the drink-induced drowsiness pulls him under at last.

Jon lies awake—still in the silence, still in the rising static.

I’m sorry, my love.

I’m so sorry.

(chapter 2 here)

[queen-scribbles]

Lisa Shepard vs Batarians

Behold, a meta about Lisa I’ve long wanted to write, inspired by this post about Torfan(got kinda long for just a reblog) and motivation provided by @fourthage‘s Mass Effect giveaway. (I’m much better about finishing things when I can give it a deadline, lol)

----

Lisa is my Colonist/Ruthless Infiltrator Shep, and let me tell you, that background combo made her really interesting to play(through the first two games, at least; my computer crashed before I had a chance to import her to ME3, rip) bc she has this big, glaring problem with batarians. The tl;dr is Mindoir was deeply traumatizing and no batarian ever did enough to counter the extremely negative image she has of their race as a result. (apologies for slight stream-of-consciousness rambling, I tried to rein it in, but I think I was only partially successful >.>)

So we start, obviously, on Mindoir. Lisa’s the oldest of four with three younger brothers; Justin, Finn, and Connor, and had two best friends; Javier and Laura. Life was routine and uneventful and the only thing she cared about the larger galaxy was getting to explore it with Javi and Laura after they all graduated.

And then the batarian raid happened. Lisa didn’t see her parents die, but she did see friends die in the initial attack, as well as Laura’s dad. She had to watch Finn and his best friend(Talitha) get dragged to a shuttle. She, Javi, and Laura hid in a storage shed with their remaining younger siblings(one of Laura’s sisters was gone, too) in hopes of keeping them safe. They spent the next three days in there. They were found by a few batarian patrols, somehow managed to kill them all with bare hands and makeshift weapons(or stolen, Lisa got a pistol off one she killed), even as their own numbers got picked down, younger sibling by younger sibling, and then Laura, and then Javi, until.Lisa was the last one left, memory etched with hearing her best friends and younger brothers, brothers she’d promised her parents she’d look out for, die very terrible deaths. 

She was found by a couple soldiers from the rescuing Alliance patrol, and actually attacked them when they first came in the storage shed. They had to calm her down, and one went so far as to pull off his helmet so she could see they were human and weren’t going to hurt her. He introduced himself as Gabe and guided her out of her personal hell, both literally and figuratively. After everything she’d witnessed and heard and knew had happened to the colony, to her home, at the hands of the batarians, Lisa didn’t feel the least bit guilty for being glad the Alliance killed every last one of the slaving bastard scum they found. She’d lost everyone in the world she cared about to those monsters, she had every right to be glad they paid for it.

The soldier, Gabe, stuck with her until she’d made it back to Earth and escorted her to the foster home that had agreed to take her in. checked up on her a few times, offered to let her live with him and his roommates(another man and a woman, all three of them soldiers) if she wanted to. She took him up on that, and by the end of the third or fourth month, he was big brother and best friend rolled into one. Being on Earth meant she didn’t really have much(if any) direct interaction with batarians, but she was still working through her trauma and every time she heard them mentioned in news reports it was batarian pirates attacking a civilian vessel or batarian slavers raiding another colony--human, turian, whatever, all it did was reinforce her hostile view of them as a race.

She joined the Alliance military when she turned eighteen, feeling it was the best way to act out her gratitude of them saving her. She still missed her family and friends, of course, but she was healing and adjusting and while batarians still get her hackles up, she wouldn’t go out of her way to cause trouble with them. Largely because that would reflect badly on the Alliance, and she doesn’t want that. She proves to be an excellent soldier, tech genius, and near-unparalleled sniper, which is what gets her the rec for N-school(courtesy of Captain Anderson, who was Gabe’s CO. Gabe introduced them the day she enlisted). She excels in N-school(she’s always been the sort to thrive on challenge) and is clearly going to graduate with flying colors, so she and Gabe work it out--he’s coming for the ceremony, they each manage to get leave for the following week, they’re gonna spend time catching up and celebrating and just get to see each other face to face for the first time in... over a year. 

And then, the week before graduation, Gabe is killed rescuing a diplomat’s kid from, you guessed it, batarian pirates(he’s one of only three KIA on that mission, which doesn’t make it sting any less)..That is when they cross the point of no return in her eyes. Two separate groups of batarians are responsible for the deaths of her family twice over. Clearly this was not a “few bad individuals” thing; this is a failing of them as a people(A people who have enslaving others enshrined as part of their culture to the point of calling it discrimination when they’re not allowed to practice it). 

She is a driven, pragmatic, determined individual who wants to represent humanity and the Alliance well and so works just fine alongside every other race in Council space. She’s always willing to help, also always willing to make the hard calls to get a job done bc she learned early that people die. You can’t save everyone every time. You still try your damnedest to do it, but sometimes you can’t. And sometimes people die as a result of your decisions and you have to be able to live with that. She can. 

And then TORFAN. Well, first Elysium, and then Torfan. By this point, she’s N4, risen to Commander, and absolutely willing to push her squad however hard it takes to accomplish their goal. (In any circumstances, these just happen to hit a tad closer to home than usual) The fight through Torfan’s tunnels to the pirate base is brutal, and there are several times her men point out maybe they should turn back. But she pushes on bc their mission is to take out this group of pirates. In her mind, batarians are already a threat, given their culture of slaving, piracy, and utter disregard for life and others in general. If they get away with attempting a full-scale attack like they did on a world like Elysium, they’ll be exponentially more dangerous. So there have to be repercussions and they have to be swift and they have to be brutal and unflinching and if she’s the one who doles that out so be it. 

It costs her 3/4 of her squad, but they do it. They fight the pirates to the point of surrender and then Lisa shoots them anyway. Her mission was to eliminate the enemy, and she’s A) worried the batarians are surrendering as a show, with no intention of actually being prisoners, and B) convinced even if they did surrender, the Hedgemony would demand their return as “political prisoners” or something, with good odds they’d be released after just enough time this  “incident” will have faded from people’s memory, and she doesn’t want to risk either. So the dozen-odd surrendering batarians still.die. And while she didn’t take pleasure or satisfaction in doing it, she doesn’t regret it either. Her thought process is somewhere along the lines of “These are sadistic, murdering, slaving scumbags, who have the audacity to ask for the mercy they would never in a million years show their victims. The galaxy is better off without them.”) She doesn’t care it gets her labelled “The Butcher of Torfan” and that people look askance at her when they know her record. She got the job done, the galaxy is just that much safer, and she’s not going to lose any sleep over batarians.

She makes N7 and gets the Spectre nomination bc she pushes herself just as hard as anyone under her command, always gets the job done, and--aside from batarians--has no issue working with other races. When it comes to anyone else; turians, asari, hanar, whoever, she’s all too happy to follow Kaidan’s “jerks and saint, just like us” philosophy and judge them on an individual basis, but--and I’ve actually had her say this in fic--”If you ever find a saintly batarian, let me know and I’ll pin a medal on their chest my-damn-self”. Between what’s known of batarians as a race and culture and her own first or second hand experience, there is nothing redeeming about them in her eyes. (And it’s a very good thing she didn’t run into any during that... week after the Talitha encounter in ME1, bc she probably would have ripped them to shreds with just her bare hands and her omnitool after hearing what that poor girl went through.) She’s not going to go out of her way to gleefully/vindictively slaughter them, but she’s not feeling too charitable or sympathetic toward them, either. If I may make a cross-franchise reference, Lisa’s feeling on batarians are very similar to how Fenris feels about mages in DA2, only unlike him, she hasn’t gotten any examples they’re not all Like That(TM).

As of the end of ME2, she has not seen any evidence to counter her view of batarians, so it’s a view she’s gonna go into ME3 holding(whenever I get around to completely redoing her game), and I don’t see her changing it much at this point. It’s a flaw, and it’s one that’s going to persist probably her entire life, but it made playing her so much fun. (especially since my two previous Shepards were 98% Paragon ANGELS who are best described as bleeding hearts. xD) 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #309

“show me how to lie - you’re getting better all the time  /  and turning all against one is an art that’s hard to teach.”

Have you ever played Jackbox Games? If so, which ones of their party games are your favorites? No, but I looooove watching Mark and The Boys play them on charity streams. They can make up the funniest shit. I can't recall the name of the specific one I'm thinking of... but I enjoy watching most of them. I do think one or two are boring, though. Do you have artistic friends? If so, have you got their artwork displayed? I have some very talented friends, but I don't have anything of theirs displayed somewhere. Have you ever considered pole dancing? Why/why not? No. It takes an incredible amount of strength, plus confidence I don't have. That and I'm just not into it. What's the last thing you fixed yourself? Uhhhhhhh bitch I couldn't tell ya. Are there any CDs you've held onto for sentimental reasons? No. Did you read the Barbie magazines with comics made with the actual dolls? "I didn’t know that was a real thing." <<<< Me either. What's the last thing you knitted? I've never knitted before. Who was your first online friend? Emma. :') She was the first person who joined my RP mob back in the Animal Planet forum days. Why do you take surveys? Be honest. Boredom, distraction, and sometimes I just wanna ramble about whatever. Does mail get delivered to your door or do you have a mailbox outside? Our mailbox is by the side of the road at the end of our driveway. Your doorbell rings out of the blue. What's your reaction? Let Mom answer it. I don't answer the door ever if I don't expect someone or can peek outside and don't recognize them. Are all the lamps in your home LED or other energy saving lights? I don't know. Do you prefer writing by hand or typing? Typing. I can't write very long at all before my carpal tunnel flares up. Think of one of the biggest decisions you've had to make in your life...If you made a different choice, how different would your life be now? I'd be dead, that simple. Have you ever taken a course on CPR? No. What makes you laugh most effortlessly? You can guess it pretty easily. What makes you cry most effortlessly? I make it a rule that I "can't" listen to "Eternally Yours" by Motionless In White because there hasn't been even ONE occasion where it hasn't made me cry, even when I was stupid enough to binge it because it's just a good song. I've broken that "rule" before because I do just genuinely enjoy the song, but I know the pain truly isn't worth it, so I haven't heard it in a decently long time. What is the best smell in the whole world? Cinnamon rolls, probably. My body wash is currently that kind of smell, and Jesus Christ it's the best part of showering. Do you wear a watch? No. Can you tell time from an analog clock? Yes. What a time it'll be when kids can't anymore... Is there a number or a combination of numbers that feels important to you? Only dates, but not numbers themselves. What is the most socially awkward thing you've done? *gestures at my life as a whole* Is your computer decorated in any way? No. If your old class was to have a reunion, would you attend it? No. No. I don't want to relive my high school experience; it would be too painful for me to willingly walk into. What's the worst thing that's ever happened to you? I would say "the breakup," but technically it was letting him basically own me and my every neuron of joy. Not by his will of course, but my own. I was stupid and just... handed those rights over without really realizing it. I can harp forever and ever and EVER about the importance of making sure you own yourself and your emotions. Do you ever donate money to charity? If so, which charity and why? Blah blah blah, I don't get an income, you know this. Whenever I do, I 100% plan on donating to every charity stream Mark ever hosts again, as well as some other people's. I'd love to donate to a lot of places. Would you ever want to get married? If so, why? Yes, because society has made it too instilled in me that it's just like... this ultimate validation of "forever" with your partner, even though I know you can be just as or even far more invested in your relationship without marriage. The only *true* benefit of marriage imo is for legal and financial reasons, but yeah, I still want it. Like I said, it's too deeply embedded in that brain of mine that it's a relationship goal. Why do you live the way you do? I'm not even living the way I want to, so... Have you ever abused an animal? No, and I say "fuck you" with every ounce of sincerity and loathing if you have. Do you think animals are less important than humans? If so, why? Nope. We share this earth and grew from the same roots, so what *really* makes us better? We might be smarter (generally) and more developed as the apex predator, but that does not equate to being more important than, say, even a gnat. That creature has the exact same level of rights to be here as the human species does. I could go on and on and on about this topic. How close was the last person close to you who has died? Not extremely, but she was still important to and loved by me. Grandma and I were very, very different and butted heads more than once, but her love was unconditional, and she showed boundless kindness to others. She showed a courage I see as unmatched in the face of death. I truly, deeply, in the very core of my heart hope she is at peace and experiencing all joys she ever wished for. How does death in general make you feel? Well, it depends on how I'm looking at it. I fully accept it is an inevitable phase in simply existing that none of us will ever evade, so it's not exactly terrifying to me, though of course I don't want it anytime soon. If I'm thinking about people I love dying, I definitely get sad about it and scared of that possibly eternal separation. Is there a person you absolutely loathe? If so, why do you loathe them? Not that I know personally, no. Has anyone ever told you that you're rude? If so, what caused it? No; I think I'm very mannerly, honestly. Have you ever seen a therapist? I've regularly seen therapists since I started middle school. I advocate for everyone to have one, honestly, whether you have a mental illness or not. Have you ever been homeless? In technical terms, yes, but a friend let me stay with her until Mom and I settled into a new place. Have you ever been completely broke? That's the actual story of my life. Well, not me personally considering I've never had to take care of myself financially, but my mom struggles very, very badly with this, and mind you, she's frugal. Just disgustingly underpaid when she worked, and her current status with disability isn't exactly incredibly generous. I live under her roof, so. Have you ever had a steady job? No. Have you ever needed a loan? If so, what for? Have you paid it back? Yes, for school, and no. I do NOT want to know how in debt I am with schools. Have you ever wanted to go to space? Not seriously, no. What's the weirdest thing you've ever seen or heard? I am 99.99% sure mine and Jason's old roommates were having some ~kinky~ sex once while I was alone on the couch against their bedroom. Preeeetty sure the girl was making meowing sounds. They were furries (who I want to emphasize have zero judgment from me; I actually think they're very brave and creative), so that was... something I definitely wasn't used to hearing, haha. What has been the most exciting moment of your life thus far? Probably when Mark N O T I C E D me on Tumblr by reblogging a gif I made of him and his pupper, and I LITERALLY struggled to sleep for three days lmfaoooo. How many birds can you name just by looking at them? Uhhhh a pretty decent amount, I'd say. Which birds are most common around your neighborhood? Crows, sparrows, cardinals and bluejays if you're lucky, robins... pretty basic stuff like that. What do you think is the most interesting sea creature? Octopi are absolutely fascinating with their intelligence. How do you reset your head to zero, so to speak? Take a nap. That usually works. Have you ever gone exploring an abandoned building? Yeah, I love that shit and really wish I could do it more. Bring my camera, too. Are there any foreign television shows you enjoy watching? Some animes. Do you have any clocks in your house that chime when the hour changes? Do those types of clocks annoy you? No. I actually quite like them, though. Has anyone ever let you borrow some of their music, promising you'd love it, but you really didn't? Did you lie to the person and agree, or tell the truth, that you hated it? My dad lent me his Shinedown CD once clearly without thinking I could just look up the album online, haha... He's an old clueless man, leave 'im be. But anyway, of course I listened to it for him and I enjoyed it; I especially loved "The Human Radio," "Kill Your Conscience" and "Pyro." Have you had the same doctor pretty much your whole life, or have you went to a bunch of different ones over the years? Have you ever been to the doctor thinking something was horribly wrong with you, but it turned out to be something minor? Mine has changed a few times, but I haven't had "a bunch." As for the second question, not to my recollection. Is the background on your phone a default picture, or a picture you took? What is the picture of? The lock screen is a pastel-styled list of mental health reminders: "i am strong, i am loved, i am enough." My home screen has been some adorable meerkat pups for a while, which I didn't take. What is your favorite type of print (ex: zebra, stripes, argyle)? Do you have a lot of things with this print on it? Ummmm maybe plaid? No. Are there any stores you feel uncomfortable going into (ex: if you dress girly, do you feel uncomfortable going into Hot Topic)? Are there any stores that you refuse, or just never go in to? The only situation I could think of would be a sex shop. That'd be so fuckin uncomfortable. What is your favorite brand of clothing? Is this a brand that is sort of expensive, or is it pretty affordable? I'm heavily biased towards Cloak, haha. I just support anything and everything Mark takes part it, and it's his and jacksepticeye's business. I have one shirt and it's genuinely great quality and reall comfy. I wouldn't call its products expensive, but they're not cheap, either. What person do you text the most? My mom or Sara, depending on the day. Do you have any pictures that always make you laugh, or cry? Are they digital pictures, or printed pictures? What is the significance? No. Not pictures I have anymore, at least. Have you ever eaten raw pumpkin? Omg I would never. I hate the flavor of any sort of pumpkin food. Does your car have a name? I don't have my own car, but Mom jokingly calls hers "Olivia." Who was the last person you made plans with? One of my sister's in-laws that's actually the mother of one of my closest friends contacted me to plan some family pictures. What is the rudest thing someone has done recently towards you? I can't think of anything recent. How do you feel about your hair right now? It needs to be trimmed and dyed. How fast have you driven a car? I think accidentally leaning towards 80 on a highway. When you're hanging out with friends + you become bored, do you just leave or endure the boredom? Given I can't leave without a car, I deal with it. What did you last plug into your computer? What were you doing with this? The charger for obvious reasons. What color(s) have you dyed your hair? Red, purple, black, then red, purple, and lighter brown highlights. I really wish I could dye it more and actually have the color stick... Was your first kiss perfect? It was to me. What song did you hear last? I have "Over The Mountain" by Ozzy on now. (: Does anyone have any blackmail on you? No. Have you ever walked into the guys' bathroom? HA, once during a teacher work day (my mom was an assistant) at my elementary school. My sisters and friends went in there to be little "rebels." I remember being mega confused with urinals, haha. Then as a teen and adult, I've been in the dance studio's boy's restroom as well as a church's to help Mom clean. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? My therapist. Are you shy? I am VERY shy. Are you talkative? Generally, no, but when I'm in a very good mood, I tend to be. Has your most recent ex ever seen you cry? Oh jeez, she saw me wail once. When was the last time you were called "cute"? I'm not sure. Would you rather be called "hot", "cute" or "beautiful"? "Beautiful." Do you have a little sister? Yep. Definitely not "little" anymore, though. About to have her Master's in social work... How many arguments have you had with the last person you kissed? Given our childhood, we've fought a lot, but mostly just as kids over very, very stupid things. As adults, we've had a serious argument once or twice and then just some very minor disagreements sprinkled in there. Do you know anyone who's been arrested? Oh yes. What're you planning on doing after this? Another survey. What time did you go to sleep last night? Damn, it wasn't even 8:00. I was EXHAUSTED and actually slept decently for once in my life. Do you like waking up to good morning texts in the morning? I mean, I'd think most people would. It's a sweet, easy way of someone showing they care and think about you. Have you left some things unsaid with a certain person? Yeah. What was the last thing that made you happy? We had syrup to add to my breakfast, haha. I don't know if these are a thing everywhere, but I looove what we just call "pancakes on a stick," which is like a corndog, but with sausage and pancake batter. Dipping it in syrup is amaaaaaaziiiiiiing. Do you like the smell of rain? I don't love it, but it's refreshing sometimes. It's mostly just associated with a bittersweet memory, so it can be triggering to smell. I know, that sounds immensely stupid. What was the last thing you took a picture of? A very, very relatable meme to show Sara, haha. She doesn't have a Facebook, so that'll do. When you go to McDonald's, what drink do you usually get? I always get a Coke. What’s the nickname of your home state? Tar Heel State, from discovering tar in the since aptly-named Tar River. Have you ever thought about your wedding? I mean duh. What’s the worse type of weather in your opinion? Hot and humid, ugh. Especially right after a summer afternoon thunderstorm. It's unbearable. You can't fucking breathe outside, and you set one foot out of the door and it's soaked. Do you have a Kindle or iPad or neither? Neither. Would you rather read or write? Write. When was the last time someone took a picture of you? The time Misty visited last month and we were taking family pictures. Would you rather see Taylor Swift or Carrie Underwood in concert? I wouldn't pay for either or even willingly go to one or the other, but if I had to go for whatever reason, Carrie. She has a beautiful voice as well as a good handful of songs I actually like. I'm not a Taylor fan; there are only like, two old songs by her I enjoy. When someone screws you over, do you get back with revenge? No. I may not be the best at adulting, but damn, I'm not that bad. Name something negative that you hate about yourself? I overthink like a motherfucker. About everything. Is there a dead end road near where you live? I live on one. Huh, that's actually been the case three times... wow. Four if you count the apartment. Who are you tired of seeing in the news a lot (celebrities)? I don't care. I don't even pay attention to the news, other than Covid updates. Have you ever had to call and complain about a product you bought? No. Name something positive you love about yourself: I care a lot about people. Can you smell anything right now? No, besides however my house naturally smells that I'm numb to. Have you spoken to a relative on the phone today? No. How does alcohol affect you? I flush in my face very obviously, and I become more outgoing and talkative. Have you ever eaten tofu and if so, did you enjoy it? I've never tried it, but I very much doubt I'd enjoy it. What was the last type of meat you ate? Pork. What colour is your toothpaste? Blue and white. Have you ever been suspended from school? No. Have you ever inhaled helium? Once, I believe. Are you a fan of Adam Sandler? Yeah, I think he's pretty funny and a talented actor. What was the last fruit you ate? An apple. A candied apple for Valentine's Day, but still an apple, haha. Have you ever watched Parks and Recreation? With Sara's family, yeah. It was fine. Have you watched a movie this week? I haven't watched a movie in many months. Have you set an alarm today? Yeah, just to ensure I was up for group therapy today. Have you asked someone for advice today? No. What was the last website you were on, other than this one? YouTube. Have you ever been to Hawaii? No, but it'd be cool. Well, thinking about the humidity... Have you watched more than an hour of TV today? No; I haven't watched television in a long time. Do you keep magazines by your toilet? No. The last time you got dressed up, where did you go? I got my makeup done and put on a dress for a Halloween "witch" shoot with my friend and some other people. The pictures pretty much don't exist because they're blurry as shit and way too dark because we left too late. I don't know why we even left the house to do it by the time everyone figured their shit out. I was really disappointed because I thought Summer made me look really, really pretty. ;_; Did the one person who hurt you the most in your life apologize? Yes, but I don't know if he really meant it. He might have just wanted me off his back, but I kinda feel now that he meant it, at least regarding how it happened. Are you proud of who you are? Only in the sense that I think I have a good heart. Otherwise, no. I've accomplished so little. Have you ever been to Costco? We don't have those here, so no. Do/did you have to wear a uniform to your high school? No, thank Christ. Only in middle school. How many video games do you own? A whole lot. Have you ever been to a casino? If so, which one(s)? No. Have you ever visited a sex shop? No. How many sets of keys do you have for your house? One. Do you give spare keys to your place to your friends and family? Our landlord/family friend has one. Then obviously my sisters do, too. Have you ever ridden a bicycle through a busy city? Oh hell no. Do you use Instagram? How often do you post there? Yes, two for each of my photography "styles." I don't post a lot myself, but I react to stuff. When was the last time you high-fived someone? I believe the last time I was at my sister's and my nephew caught a Pokemon on his first throw in Pokemon GO. He and his sister LOVE that game; that's the first thing they ask to do when I come over, haha. Their dad doesn't like it because it's "evil" (which he finds most things, really...), and it's something I could roll my eyes into the back of my head about, but I still have to respect his parenting and ask if they can play it first. He let's 'em, just not long. He also took away the Pikachu plushy I gave Aubree because it's her favorite one. :^) Guess who doesn't fuckin like him lmao. Do you like writing? How often do you write? I love writing! I don't do it very much nowadays except through surveys, though. RP is kinda on pause, so surveys is really how I just get stuff out, even if it isn't creative. Are there any posters or artworks hanging in your living room? Artwork and family photos, yes. What's your favourite place to get pizza? I'm a basic bitch that loves her some Domino's. How many times have you been to the beach? Quite a few times. We live only like two hours away, and considering Myrtle Beach is a common dance competition location, we've been a couple handfuls of instances. Has there ever been a fire inside your house? Tell me the story. No. After we moved out of my childhood house though that we actually owned, the fucking idiots who were moving in completely roasted it to pitch by setting boxes on the goddamn stove and accidentally turning it on. The house had to be entirely rebuilt. My parents were livid considering it was THEIR house. Have you ever had a scary encounter with a wild animal? No. What was the best school project you remember doing? I actually really enjoyed the huge essay I did on toxic masculinity the last time I tried college. I've always been very firm about letting men be humans and not emotionless robots, but I learned a lot more while researching and writing. Name a video game you can play over and over again: Shadow of the Colossus is #1. I've beaten it at least 30 times, maybe even 40+; it's been too long since I've seen the save files. It's a relatively short game (you can beat it in less than like, four hours if you know what you're doing) and just very relaxing yet simultaneously absolutely epic to me. God, I want a PS4 to play the remaster, like beyond words. It looks incredible, and I want to try to get white Agro. Have you ever petted a cow, a sheep, or a pig? A pig, yes. I love pigs.

[myforeverforlife]

another sunrise.

For a fourth anon! Jongdae + 99. “This bath is too damn hot.” - “This is why we can’t do cute things. You complain too much.”

Masterlist

One look at you, and your husband knew that it had been a long day. In fact, this had been one long day in a week full of equally long days. Add onto that the cold that was starting to manifest at the back of your throat, and the stress of a new work routine. You were surprised and relieved that you had managed to make it through the events of today.

“Hey babe, how was work?” Jongdae asked, sneaking a kiss to your forehead as you slipped out of your coat.

“Crazy. Frustrating.” You groaned as you kicked off your boots. “I’m just glad it’s the weekend. I missed you.” When Jongdae tried to kiss you on the lips, you stopped him with a hand to his chest. “Wait, Dae. I can literally feel a cold coming on.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Jongdae pouted when he ran into your hand once more, settling for a side hug instead.

“That’s gross,” you said, wrinkling your nose. “And plus, I feel like we just got over that stomach flu you brought home, and I’d really like to avoid a repeat of that again.”

“Aw, I’m sorry babe. How can I help you feel better?”

“Unless you can make my work schedule and cold disappear, and whisk me off to a sunny island somewhere, I don’t think there’s much that’ll make me feel better.” A cough cut you off, Jongdae instantly jumping back in surprise.

“What about a warm bath? And afterwards, we can eat some takeout or something.”

Narrowing your eyes, you studied your husband’s face, his smile much too innocent for your liking. You weren’t really a bath person, something that both of you were aware of. “You just want an excuse to get me naked.”

Jongdae shushed you, gently pushing you towards the restroom. He wouldn’t hear of you helping out in any way, requesting that you lie down while he got the bath ready. The sounds of him bustling around in the bathroom with the steady stream of running water in the background were enough to have you drifting off to sleep. It was only when Jongdae gently shook you awake did you remember where you were and what was going on.

You let Jongdae guide you towards the restroom, woodenly stepping out of your clothes while Jongdae collected all of the pieces and threw them in the laundry basket.

“Okay, hop in babe.”

You eyed the steaming tub of water, highly suspicious that you and Jongdae had two different definitions of what a “warm” bath was, but you trusted him anyways. Holding onto the edge, you slipped one foot in, cringing as the rest of your body followed. “This bath is too damn hot.” You hissed as your elbows touched the surface of the water, quickly bringing them up and resting them on the edge of the tub.

“See, this is why we can’t do cute things. You complain too much.”

“Excuse me, I’m the whiny one here?” You reached into the tub, grabbing a handful of water before splashing it onto Jongdae’s hair.

Your husband screamed, backing away as he tried to shake the water out. “Okay, okay, I see your point.” He scowled as you hid your smile behind your hand, your shoulders trembling with laughter.

“So what’s next on your list? Strawberries and champagne while you massage shampoo into my hair?”

“Hm, I’m not so sure about the first two, but I can definitely give you that massage.”

And so, for the next ten minutes the two of you sat in calm silence, the only sounds being that of tiny waves of water splashing against the sides of the tub every time you moved around. You relaxed against the wall of the tub, facing away from Jongdae as he massaged your neck and shoulders.

“Dae?”

“Hm?” Jongdae’s fingers were brushing through the ends of your hair, detangling the strands in the water.

“I’m sorry I’ve been all cranky this week.”

“Babe, it’s fine. I know you haven’t been feeling like yourself lately.” His fingers moved from your hair to your face, tracing lines across your features. One finger went down the slope of you nose, leaving a trail of water of in its wake.

“I know, but still. I really appreciate everything that you do for me. I love you.”

Jongdae smiled, bending down to kiss one cheek, and then the other. His grin grew wider as you smiled up at him, you face upside down from your position in the tub. “I love you too.”

“You know what would make this even better?”

Jongdae hummed curiously, hands pausing over your shoulders.

“If you were in here with me.”

In a flash, Jongdae was standing up, shuffling out of his clothes and dropping them onto the floor.

“Wait, wait,” you rushed to say, sitting upright. “We’re just taking a bath though, no funny business tonight.”

“Okay,” Jongdae replied without hesitation. “Scoot over,” he murmured, gasping as his skin hit the water. “Okay, so maybe the water is a little too hot,” he admitted meekly.

With a giggle, you moved to the other edge of the tub, both of you sitting face-to-face, knees and legs bumping into each other in the middle. “When’s the last time we did this?” you wondered.

“Took a bath together? Never, unless you’re thinking of someone else,” Jongdae added, one brow raised in confusion.

“No, I meant just spending time with no distractions, not even with the TV on in the background. When’s the last time we just took a break from the world and pretended like we were the only ones that existed?”

Jongdae slid further down in the water as he thought, his chin brushing against the surface and sending ripples across the surface. “I don’t know. Its been a while though, huh? I don’t think we’ve been this relaxed for a while.”

“How was work for you today?” you nudged his toes with your own, giggling when he jolted up in surprise at the sensation.

“It was okay, I’ve had better days though.” Jongdae went into detail about a student who had walked into his lecture hall almost half an hour after the exam started and demanded that he let them take the test. “I mean, I would’ve understood if their car had broken down or their mom was in the hospital or something, but I had literally just seen them sitting outside a Starbucks with their friends before class started. These kids get more insane with each passing year,” he huffed out indignantly.

“I’m sorry.” You reached out for his hand under the water, giving it a light squeeze as you consoled him. “It’s not fair that some of them try to take advantage of how kind you are.”

“It’s not. But hey, that’s part of the job I signed up for. Lots of papers to grade, exams to proctor, kids who think they know it all because they’re in college.”

You motioned for Jongdae to turn around, moving closer and grabbing one of the shampoo bottles from the shower caddy. “I guess we both really needed this bath tonight,” you said as you began massaging shampoo into his scalp.

Jongdae sighed happily, eyes closing as you continued to wash his hair. “Thank you,” he mumbled sleepily. “We need to do this more often.”

“Mm, without the stressful work day though.”

You finished washing Jongdae’s hair before letting him do the same to yours. Both of you finished washing up, fingers pruny and bodies shivering from the water that had gradually started to cool down.

“Let me go order some takeout,” you offered, a towel wrapped around your body and another around your hair while Jongdae was still drying off.

“Thai food?” he called out after you.

“Fine with me!”

Thankfully, the Thai place that you guys often frequented wasn’t too far away, and soon you were merrily chewing down on your plate of pad Thai. Jongdae was equally enjoying his curry, taking a few pieces of shrimp from your food whenever you looked away.

“God, I’m in heaven,” he sighed, still chewing on food.

“Finish chewing.” Shaking your head, you pushed his chin upwards, forcing his mouth closed. “Although I can’t say I disagree. That bath was a good idea, Dae.”

“Well, I have been known to have some of those every once in a while.” He grinned as you snorted in amusement.

“Alright, Mr. Funny Guy. Are you gonna let me finish my dinner or what?”

“Depends on what the other option is.”

“A good, long nap that ends up with both of us sleeping through the night until noon.”

Jongdae chuckled, shoulders shaking as he leaned forward to kiss you on the nose. “Who am I to argue with that?”

It was easy to let the stress of the day linger over you, to nitpick every detail that you wish you could have changed, something that you wish had gone differently. But here in the comfort of your home with the person you loved the most, it was just as easy to remember that it was just important to breathe and take things one step at a time.

Tomorrow would be a new day, after all.

A/N: i feel like i’ve been getting sick all the time this fall, so writing this was also sort of healing for me as well haha (but seriously everyone, stay safe and healthy especially today on halloween!)

[homespork-review]

Homespork Act 2: The Racism of the Conductor’s Baton (Part 3)

BRIGHT: Also, the prompts in John’s head are back and are making increasingly strident demands. Namely, they want John to follow Nannasprite to the cookies. John isn’t too keen on this idea. He’s so not-keen on it that he fails to notice Rose whacking him in the head with a box. Frustrated by his lack of compliance, the voice devolves into insults. I’m not sure why the Wayward Vagabond is so insistent on this? It’s not like he can eat the cookies.

On the whole this is a really good sequence, I think. It lays out some basic background information for the reader and John, and it’s paced pretty well.

Back in the future, an agitated slip of the finger causes a cupboard door to open in the Wayward Vagabond’s hideout. Out fall a few tins of food and a heavy tome of HUMAN ETIQUETTE.

Rose has updated her GameFAQs walkthrough with the new information from Nannasprite. We’re getting something of a motif here: Cut-aways to the Wayward Vagabond are followed by a walkthrough update. It’s a nice little pattern.

Rose also speculates on the prototyping process and on why the prototypings of other players worldwide have not affected John’s foes, and comes to the conclusion that each client/server pair -- or daisy chain -- spawns its own copy of the Incipisphere, or ‘session’. She’s also caught up in rewriting her work. Couldn’t the reader go somewhere else? Or somewhen else?

Why yes, the reader can. Namely the reader can jump back to Rose’s birthday, where she’s having a conversation with GG.

This conversation reinforces that there’s something funny about GG. She asks about John’s present the moment Rose opens it, and Rose isn’t surprised by this. GG also knows without being told that Rose’s dead pet is a male cat, and she’s been working on her birthday present for John for years.

Finally, she asks what Rose would say if GG told her she knew a game that could bring said cat back to life.

TT: If someone told me that, I would regard the remark with a great deal of skepticism. TT: If that someone was you, on the other hand, then I would have to ask preemptively: TT: Is that someone you? GG: yes that someone is me!!!!!!!! GG: i just thought you might find it interesting TT: So what is this game?

Whatever strange abilities GG has, Rose is familiar with her knowing things she shouldn’t, and trusts her even when she makes claims that sound impossible.

CHEL: Note, also, that here GG is the one who brings up the game, while in an early convo with John set chronologically after this one she asked “lol! whats sburb?” This is not an inconsistency. Again, it comes up later. We end up saying that a lot. Sorry.

BRIGHT: Also: Rose knows John well enough to guess that he was wearing a disguise when he talked to her earlier -- but still interprets his gift of knitting needles and yarn as a subtle jab at her habit of making analytical comments, much as her mother. GG points out that he probably didn’t mean it that way. Later, Rose says she’ll make him a gift with strong sentimental value as a dig at him, but admits she doesn’t really mean it that way when GG points it out. Then again, this takes place some months before the comic starts, and may show how Rose and John’s relationship has evolved.

Back in Dave’s home, the sun is beating down. Meteors pepper the city, and smoke is rising. Dave captchalogues his katana, and sets out in search of his brother’s copy of the game.

Dave elaborates a little on the concept of irony that he and his brother live by. His brother is awesome, apparently. Dave can only hope to one day reach those heights of irony.

The puppet theme from earlier continues, with puppets strewn around the living room where Bro lives and sleeps. Among them are a Mr. T puppet, which is wearing a leather thong and handcuffed to a pantsless Chuck Norris puppet. What makes it a little disturbing is that this is just lying out in the living room, which Dave presumably goes into all the time. Dave’s narration here sounds a lot like he’s trying to convince himself that these things are totally cool, no, really. He can’t see Lil Cal anywhere, though...

CHEL: Other puppets are the iconic Smuppets, possibly a portmanteau of “smutty puppets”, vaguely humanoid nude puppets with enormous behinds and phallic noses. There are implications that they are intended for non-PG purposes. Further implications are that the leaving of obscene material around the home has been going on for all of Dave’s life. For the record, intentionally showing pornography or sexual aids to children is classed as a form of sexual abuse. Casually leaving them lying around the house in front of kids long-term, well, the motive may not be malicious but I doubt a jury would care. It certainly counts as neglect. The popular fanfic Brainbent explored the damage this kind of thing could inflict on a kid in a realistic setting.

Also note, there is no hint of Dave having or ever having had parents, not even a photo in the background or something. The immediate assumption would most likely be that they’re dead, but Bro’s strangeness might also suggest estrangement - behaviour like that would probably result in one’s parents not talking to one anymore, though they most likely wouldn’t leave a child in a place like that if they were around. We find out the truth later, and it’s even weirder.

BRIGHT: Between one panel and the next, Lil Cal appears atop a speaker box. Dave is fine with this. Totally fine.

CHEL: For the record, this is Lil Cal:

Not something one would be very happy about finding behind one, is he?

BRIGHT: He plays a bit on the Xbox, gives Cal a fistbump, and then checks out his brother’s computer. It’s password-protected, but Dave knows the password, and Bro knows he knows it, and Dave knows this, and it’s all totally cool.

One of Bro’s websites is a puppet pornography website. Apparently this is popular enough to bring in thousands of dollars a month, and Smuppets are a multi-billion-dollar-per-year enterprise. Time for our next point:

Magic-onomics - wherein characters’ funds issue from nowhere Half-baked attempts to justify a protagonist’s mystery money can also backfire. Explanations should amount to more than “Somehow Rain had lots of money.” Giving Rain an inheritance, or explaining that she recently gave up her job at a top law firm to pursue her art, will work only where these things feel like part of the world of the novel.

Bro and Dave live in a crappy apartment in which Bro doesn’t even have his own bedroom, instead sleeping on the futon in the living room where he works. Yet they have the funds to spend on swords (not cheap) and expensive turntables. The Con Air bunny prop Dave bought for John sold in real life for almost $1,300.

And how the heck do smuppets bring in multiple billions of dollars a year? That’s a niche market, even if Bro is the only supplier. (Which he wouldn’t be — if it’s worth that much, someone else would want in on the market.)

CHEL: Even if said market is fairly disturbing. If there’s enough people who like it enough to buy it, there’ll be people comfortable with supplying it.

BRIGHT: Their income shouldn’t be anywhere near that high, even with puppet pornography adding to the revenue stream. If we grant that in this universe it is that high, then they should be living somewhere more comfortable.

HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC: 13

CHEL: In order for this to actually work as stated, not only would the puppets have to appeal to everyone on the planet, but there would probably have to be a lot more people on the planet than there actually are. I’m pretty sure it’s an exaggeration for humour, but considering the inconsistencies with their income status as presented, it’s still a bit shaky.

It’s also worth another count, because this is basically a handwave to mean the characters presented aesthetically as poor are still as financially secure as is necessary for writing the scenes Hussie wants to:

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 6

If the comic was presented as a non-serious cartoon for the whole story, this would pass without comment, but when one’s trying to be dramatic and include real stakes, I think one needs to apply real stakes to everyday things too.

BRIGHT: Then again, it’s possible that their financial status is higher than the apartment would suggest, and Bro just chooses to spend his money on katanas and expensive equipment rather than upgrading. (And/or is lying to Dave about their income.) That might not be out of character given what we see of him later. But overall, this is a mess.

FAILURE ARTIST: Maybe the Smuppets is a money laundering business.

CHEL: A lot of people would read that fanfic.

The theory that the guardians knew the game was coming might explain why he chose to spend so much on swords, at least. He’d know Dave would need them. Not so much of an explanation for everything else though. Considering the weirdness that’s going on, I could imagine Bro not wanting attention drawn to it, but wouldn’t hiding weirdness be much harder in a flat than in a house set off some distance from neighbours?

For that matter, where’s John getting the money for movie memorabilia? Later reveals show the Egbert family originally came from money but they don’t seem to have that much to throw around now.

BRIGHT: Remember how Rose said earlier that she quite enjoyed Bro’s websites? I think that counts as a point for CALL CPA PLEASE…

FAILURE ARTIST: I question how pornographic the site really is. It might just literally be puppets being mashed together with no human body parts. A thirteen year old can surely see that.

BRIGHT: Fair point -- the page we see is teen-safe, at any rate.

CHEL: If it isn’t actually sexual, that possibly makes the supposed popularity level even sillier. Fetishists need constant fresh material and there are probably people who don’t have a specific puppet fetish who would ignore the puppets to look at the guy, but to keep up that level of popularity the viewers who don’t have a puppet fetish would have to keep finding it funny long after most people would think the joke had worn off. Both options say disturbing things about the world this comic is set in and their tastes in either pornography or humour. At least Veronica Chaos appears onscreen with her puppet… (Link contains no porn but you probably don’t want it on a work computer.)

For the record, I think Smuppets would actually make pretty bad sex toys. Plush is a porous material, so it would be hard to clean sticky substances out of it properly, and the phallic noses seem to be too floppy to use for penetration of a human orifice. Maybe that first point is why he brings in so much cash - the smuppets are single-use? People do use plush toys for masturbatory purposes, but usually when they can’t find anything else to use, specific fetishes for them being rare, and generally don’t use the soft parts as penetration toys.

Personally, I quite like the theory the kinkmeme brought up years ago; PlushRumps is actually an elaborate multimedia webcomic a la Homestuck itself. Now that I can see bringing in that much cash. Or possibly it just looks like this, which was made by the guy who wrote Thirty Hs (warning for eye injury and surreality): "Jumping!" (Watch on YouTube)

I could see Bro being that dude.

BRIGHT: And Dave admits, again, that he finds the puppet thing unsettling.

This is a pretty good depiction of someone trying to convince himself to be okay with something that freaks him out. He pesters John to distract himself from the puppets everywhere, and when he doesn’t get a response, he pesters Rose. And Hussie once again repeats the entire blinking pesterlog we read fifty pages ago instead of just linking back to it.

GET ON WITH IT!: 6

CHEL: Just occurred to me; why is Dave so bothered by the puppets? I can’t imagine that Bro suddenly started leaving them around when he hadn’t before - in fact, I believe a later flashback shows infant Dave using a Smuppet’s nose as a pacifier (eww, god I hope it was a freshly-made unused one). Dave really ought to be used to the things by now. Then again, now he’s reaching his teens, he’s probably old enough to start realising this is weird and creepy on a deeper level. But then that brings up the same problem we had with John; doesn’t he have any local friends he could have learned this from sooner? Though I could picture Bro not bothering to send him to school, and we do later learn there is quite possibly magic afoot in hiding the oddness of the Strider household. That’s a complicated theory and requires much more setup than we have here, though, so pin in that for later.

Also, the puppets thing counts for a point of ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?, and Dave is in fact the reason we created that count. A kid in Dave’s situation in real life would be messed up, but so would a kid in the situations of the others (or at least the girls), and Dave’s situation seems to be taken more seriously than theirs, at least later on.

ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 5

BRIGHT: Back to Rose, who’s beating John over the head with a box in a futile effort to get his attention. She eventually gives up and deploys another piece of equipment called a Punch Designix, using the Shale John collected. Since she doesn’t know what it does, she pesters John and asks him to experiment.

Unfortunately John has bigger problems to deal with: His garden is by this point overrun with imps, who are climbing on his tire swing and wearing his disguises. This is enough to snap him out of his Wayward Vagabond-induced state and get him to respond to Rose. They need to get those monsters off his pogo ride!

Fortunately, Rose is able to help by picking up the piano and dropping it on the imp. Less fortunately, the piano does not survive the experience. Neither does the imp.

The pogo ride seems fine, though.

John is reluctant to risk Nanna’s ghost cookies to go retrieve the grist, so Rose uses the pogo ride to transport it up to his room. Then she tells him to go find out what the Punch Designix does, while she works on building the house up to the gate. Apparently stairs cost a lot of grist to build. John makes a SBaHJ reference while Rose recoups the grist she used to build the catwalk earlier, sending an imp tumbling into the depths.

In the kitchen, Nannasprite has produced a lot of cookies. An imp tries to sneak one, and is blasted into grist by Nanna as a result.

John sets out on a hunt for imps and useful items, grabbing some shaving cream and his pogo ride, and launching his telescope out of the window. Amazingly, this proves relevant only a few pages later.

CHEL: Dad apparently keeps an entire cabinet filled with nothing but shaving cream. Rule of Funny, I know, but how fast does this guy’s beard grow?

BRIGHT: His living room is full of imps, who have taken a shine to the Cruxtruder and left cruxite dowels lying everywhere. Armed with hammer and shaving cream, John mounts his trusty steed and pogos his way to victory, which works amazingly well (read: works at all), until he slips on a cruxite dowel and lands flat on his back.

This is incredibly dangerous!

Acting on a polite prompt, John absconds into his Dad’s study, and Rose covers his retreat with the refrigerator, which levels up to FIVESTAR GENERAL ELECTRIC and earns 285 Boondollars.

Further extremely polite prompts ask John for a can opener. Despite the presence of two imps in the study with him, John stops to consider where to find one, while Rose takes out the imps with Dad’s safe. I don’t think that counts as HURRY UP AND DO NOTHING, though, since it’s clearly supposed to be the joke.

Back in the future, the Wayward Vagabond munches on a few pages from the etiquette book. Rose updates her GameFAQs walkthrough with a series of images of John’s house in the Medium. She does refer to Colonel Sassacre’s as racist in one of these, but it’s not really much of a rebuttal.

CHEL: She experiments with building a bit more on John’s house; ladders prove cheaper to build than stairs, albeit harder to use safely. John eventually stops contemplating can openers to examine the Punch Designix, while Rose answers Dave’s angry rant about being buried in Smuppets. I think this may be another point for ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY, because in the context of a kid ranting about his brother’s annoying hobby and his friend snarking back it’s hilarious, and it seems at this point to be presented as funny, but as discussed above the nature of Smuppets makes this rather creepy.

ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 6 TG: i am enrobed in chafing, wriggling god fucking damned puppet pelvis TG: an obscenely long, coarse kermit cock is being dragged across my anguished face TT: Let's put this into perspective. You put up with the puppet prostate because you love it.

Okay, this I think could be a point for CALL CPA PLEASE. A child probably would make fun of another child’s discomfort with non-consensually being surrounded by sex toys on the grounds of not knowing better, but it’s unsettling to read.

CALL CPA PLEASE: 2

John discovers there are codes on the backs of his captchalogue cards, which can be entered into the Punch Designix to make punch cards. Punching the captchalogue card itself renders the item irremovable from it, but the punch card can, he guesses, be used to recreate the item via the Totem Lathe and Alchemiter. Before he can test this, Rose hurls a bathtub through the wall to kill some nearby imps; to be fair, when he checks his PDA, he sees he missed a message from her warning him about it. He messages her back and she says the precarious staircase up to the gate is ready. John is nervous and asks why she didn’t build straight up through the hole in his dad’s bedroom ceiling.

EB: oh come on. what's the big deal, i'll just climb up and go right through! TT: Will you? EB: yeah, why not? TT: Are you saying you've never wondered what's in there? Or why it's been kept a secret from you? EB: well, i mean yeah... TT: Then trust me. You won't be going "right on through." EB: wait, are you saying there's something, like... EB: troubling in there? TT: I don't know. EB: what do you mean? what do you see in there? TT: I can't see in there. EB: oh. TT: But I don't have a very good feeling about it. EB: pfff... EB: whatever! EB: i think i can handle a few more stupid clown paintings.

Well, that’s ominous.

Examining the destroyed safe, John finds a book about shaving, several old newspaper clippings about meteor strikes, and a much older copy of Colonel Sassacre’s book, possibly the one involved in the mysterious accident which caused Nanna’s death. Behind where the safe was, he finds an empty captchalogue card and a proud fatherly note from Dad, praising him for now being strong enough to lift the safe; presumably intended for several years in the future at least, since the safe is big enough to fit John inside it. The note further explains that John is now entitled to the contents of the safe, and provides the now-useless combination for the lock. Further sylladex shenanigans launch Sassacre’s book, killing an imp, and John heads up the stairs, but slips. As he precariously clings on, the hands and jester’s motley of something much, much bigger than the imps start to emerge from the chasm...

Cut back to Dave, still searching for the beta and/or his brother, finding only that one of Bro’s swords is missing. A brief shadowy flash takes the second sword from the wall too.

You know this drill all too well. Trouble's a brewin'.

Dave heads for the door, finding one of Bro’s “ironic” comics pinned to it. The comic in question:

Erm.

TIER: Now that is, as the folks would say, unsettling.

FAILURE ARTIST: This is another work that Hussie created pre-Homestuck and decided to add. It was part of this drawing battle on a forum.

CHEL: It took me an embarrassingly long time to realise that was supposed to be Kermit. I was seeing it as a teddy bear, with the spiral cheeks as eyes and the eyes as ears.

TIER: . . . I was “literally just now” years old when I realized that was supposed to be Kermit.

BRIGHT: Ditto!

CHEL: Me too, actually, it was after I saw it while posting it here. Before I thought it was Fozzie, drawn even worse than the rest of the comic.

Dave is fairly mellow about the comic as compared to his reaction to the puppets, but thinks that he “[doesn’t] need to see this shit right now”. It looks like something a kid his age would either draw themselves or like (I know I would have loved it), but having things like this pasted randomly about your house would definitely be unsettling even so. He understands it as further irony, and thinks Bro is trying to annoy him with it as “some weird gauntlet he's throwing down to see if you will "GET IT"”.

Worse than the comics, however, is what’s in the kitchen. Weapons are piled up on every counter and the sink is full of fireworks. Dave considers this “awesome”, the implication again being that this has been normal for his whole life. He’s really lucky he’s a cartoon character, there’s no way a real kid would still be alive here. When he turns on the blender, a green puppet in it is shredded to pieces, releasing fake blood; inside the eye socket of a Jigsaw puppet on top of the microwave is a webcam, broadcasting the incident. Okay, again, we need to consider how “pornographic” PlushRumps actually is to determine whether this is a problem. Videos of a kid shredding a puppet are harmless in and of themselves. If it’s actually being marketed as fetish material… ew. Dave appears just as unsettled by this as I am, enough so to behead the cam-puppet, so the implications aren’t good.

More Smuppets spill out of the microwave, and then we go back into fucking sylladex shenanigans as Dave tries to collect every dangerous object in the room

GET ON WITH IT!: 7

Distracted by same, Dave fails to notice a silhouetted figure which is presumably his brother appearing briefly behind him, dropping Cal on the stovetop, and disappearing. Dave’s expression doesn’t change on seeing it but he literally leaps a foot in the air. Poor kid, that is freaky. We also discover why Dave had juice in his closet way back; Bro uses the fridge as storage space for swords instead of comestibles, and cherry bombs in the icemaker.

… Okay, where does Bro keep his own food? Both humorously and actually abusive/neglectful guardians still require energy intake, you know. There are later hints that Bro himself is someone’s puppet, but only in the figurative sense.

TIER: Dude probably has spots around the apartment to stash stuff, like how Dave has apple juice hidden away in his closet.

Figuring out how seriously we're supposed to be taking things can get tricky, especially with the Big Thing way later on in the comic putting earlier events in a new light upon rereading (well, mostly just stuff related to Dave).

CHEL: And if we are supposed to take it seriously, how the fuck is Dave alive? A real kid in this situation wouldn’t have lived long enough to be traumatised.

[hayjeon]

Snow and Ice 01 [m] (ft. Jungkook)

→ friendswithbenefits!au with Snowboarder!JK and figure skater!reader during the Olympicssss!

→ 11.1k | part 2 (coming soon!)  

A/n: I know that winter olympics is exclusive to winter sports and vice versa with summer, but let’s ignore that for the sake of the fic ;) (ie. mentions of gymnasts) 

also this was meant to be a oneshot, but after getting somewhere around 18k...i decided to split into 2 parts! sorry, but hope you guys enjoy what I already have! :D not heavily edited sry but enjoyoyyyyoyyoy

“How fucking hard is it for the boys to seriously not sound like a bunch of monkeys at 3am in the damn morning?!” You grouch, stomping out of the restroom to Irene. 

She’s already dressed in her gym outfit, and tying her shoes. “God, I know,” she rolls her eyes. “I think they’ve made a bet or something to see who can make it the longest after bottomless drinking.” Stretching, she groans, “They were up even up til 5am I think, after you fell asleep.” 

You roll your eyes, slipping off your robe and pulling on a tight spandex pair of leggings and sports bra. You grab your water bottle and join your teammate as you walk down the hall of the rooming area and into the gym. “It would be nice for once to try and get a normal week of life before the games start. By the way, are we doing cardio today?” 

Irene nods, tying her hair up high. “Start off with 60 minutes running and then help me stretch? We’ll go practice on the rink later after lunch.” 

You nod and throw the towel on the handle as you step up onto a machine. It’s 6am, but already, dozens of other athletes are busy at work, pressing the weight machines and cardio machines to life. You can see that the gymnastics girls are taking up most of the easy weights, and the hockey players fiddling with the heavier weights. Seokjin, one of the guys from your university’s snowboarding team, walks up to you with a smile, starting up the running machine next to yours, and matching your brisk walk. 

“Good morning,” he grins, “How are you feeling?” 

You roll your eyes, cracking your neck. “God, Jin, I wanted to kill the guys on the fourth floor. Literally, they’re the loudest herd of chimpanzees when they’re drunk.” 

Seokjin laughs, upping his speed. “They made a bet to see who could drink the longest from the keg. It was interesting to watch but my coach would’ve killed me if she were here and saw me sleeping anytime past 1am. And even though our coaches can’t be here in the lodgings,” he shudders, taking a swig from his bottle, “I’d rather not find out what she’ll do to me if she ever knew the truth.” 

You laugh, increasing your speed and matching his long strides with quick ones of your own. “Good thinking, you’re smart.” 

He grins at you and the both of you ease into your daily routines. 

Everyday is like this, even when you’re not in the Olympic village. This is your second Olympics, and your second time representing your country for women’s figure skating. Being said, getting here meant that every day was a routine, just like today’s, monkey boys living a floor above you or not. 

Wake up at 5am, and cardio for an hour, stretch for 30, practice jumps on mats for 30, and then actually skating for another 2 hours, before returning to stretch out the sore muscles, and then finally getting to eat your first meal, which was probably a salad, chicken breast, and maybe a fruit smoothie if your morning cardio was more productive than usual. Then it was a bit of rest and loosening the muscles with a warm bath, and then back with weight training and more skating until it was night, and the lactic acid buildup was making your muscles all shaky and unsteady. Rinse, repeat. 

It’s easy to throw popcorn at your tv screen and sneer, “Idiots,” when a representative of the country makes a mistake during the games. Somehow, everyone sitting at home in front of their televisions, munching on their bottomless fried chicken and coke became masters at whatever sport they were watching this time of year. But becoming an olympian meant that this was your life: training, practicing, and winning. 

You amp up the speed on the machine into a full sprint as you think of the way you only got a silver medal the last time you competed. The bratty Jennie Kim had won the gold, and managed to shove it in your face every single time you two saw each other. She was here too, you could practically smell the hatred and the evil emanating off her skin whenever you were in a 50 mile radius of her. 

You sigh as your music lets you drift off into a place, a place where you don’t have to think about how sweaty and tired you are already. The music that you chose this year for your routine was classy, and so was the show that you prepared. 

It took months of training, and was also the reason you had to go so hard on cardio this year: there were four triple-axels, triple toe-loops you had to master during the routine, and that didn’t even include the two triple salchows towards the end of the routine. None other than Kim Yuna had attempted and succeeded at doing a routine like that completely without failing. 

All while looking like a complete goddess. 

Beethoven’s 9th symphony was a fairy-like, dainty work of art, with swells of the orchestra booming in the background to create an ominous feeling to it. To master this routine, you’d had to also go through hours of acting classes, to get “in touch with your deepest emotions,” like your coach Minho had convinced you. 

Your mother had gotten her hands on the most gorgeous outfit, a turquoise, shimmering deep blue-green that make your skin glitter and shine and complimented your eyes and matched incredibly well with the silver accents and accessories embroidered onto the dress. 

You don’t really remember how you got here. It just started as an innocent day at the rink, where you’d convinced your mother to let you do something more interesting than learning the piano or the violin, and she’d let you choose between gymnastics and figure skating. You were mesmerized by the pretty outfits as a little girl, so she’d taken you for lessons. 

And then the lessons slowly became rehearsals for the junior figure skating team, and then your coach labeled you as team captain, and then you were being sent off to do shows all around the country. You were then competing and winning gold medals as fast as ever, and at the ripe young age of 17, you were crowned as the next Female Figure Skating Olympian to join your country’s team, to train and compete in the next winter olympics. 

That was how you were thrust into this world of competing and working yourself to the bone at age 18. It just...sort of happened, and at one point in your little 18 year old life you did have a moment to turn around and survey how the hell you got here in the first place. But, it was too late, and you were way too invested, switching out hours of studying or playing video games or with dolls for training on the ice in your childhood to back out now. 

Your workout comes to an end and you’re already sweating bullets and chugging down buckets of water by the end. Irene finishes a couple of seconds before you do and waits for you as you cool down and step off. You both take a couple more minutes to towel off and cool before you step into the mirror room, and begin to stretch. You place your ankle on top of the poles for steadiness and begin stretching your upper body, cooling down in the air conditioned room. 

“Well if it isn’t y/n?” A voice sounds in the entrance of the stretching room and all the heads in the room turn to see who it is. 

You don’t even have to look to know who it is. 

He cockily wipes his face with a towel and throws it over his shoulder, spraying a steady stream of water from his bottle into his mouth as he saunters over to where you’re stretching. You roll your eyes and ignore him, switching sides and propping your other leg up 90 degrees as you curve your torso towards it with your hand stretched towards your toes. 

He walks up to you and in the mirror, you can see the other girls in the room whispering and giggling at the presence of the handsome Olympian. 

Jeon Jungkook. Age 22. Also his second time competing in the Olympics. Gold medalist if we’re talking about olympics, but all time World Champion in the Men’s Snowboarding medium and Guiness World Record holder for highest score last year, beating out previous record holders and his own best scores with the recent win. Endorses like a thousand snowboarding and athletic brands like Northface and Tim Burton. Also the owner of his own resort on the side. He was a celebrity within the Olympians, and also voted one of the hottest Olympians ever. 

“Looking good,” he rakes his eyes up and down your body, grinning sleazily. “How long has it been, 3 years? 4 years?” 

You huff as you take down your leg from the pole. “If you could ever for once figure out how to do math, you’d know that it’s been 4 years since the last olympics, Jeon Jungkook.” 

He smirks when you finally respond to him, walking over to lean against the pole as you sit down and begin stretching your hamstrings. “Congrats on your win during the World Championships, I watched and cheered for you during it.” 

You roll your eyes. “Are you here to make fun of my silver medal too? I have enough knowing grins from Jennie Kim to last me a lifetime.” You switch legs, leaning forward and pressing your knees against your chest. 

He laughs, “Hell no, I would never dare to make fun of the ice queen.” 

Straightening up, you narrow your eyes at him. He’s been calling you that since you can remember. “Get lost, Jungkook. Go do your weights or whatever.” You resume stretching, extending one leg far behind you as you sit comfortable in a split. 

He stands, watching you from above. “Suit yourself. Know I’ll be back though.” 

He walks cockily back, lifting the edge of his shirt to wipe at the sweat on his brow, which is completely stupid because he has a towel. It’s so obvious he does it to get a ruse out of the other gymnasts and skaters stretching in the room, which it does. 

Irene inches up to you and joins you in your stretches. 

“Don’t ask,” you groan and switch sides. 

She shrugs, laughing at you in the mirror. “Wasn’t gonna. That exchange spoke for itself. He definitely has the hots for you.” 

You roll your eyes and groan as you get up, and Irene joins you to help you stand and lift your leg up as high as she can reach, way up over your head. “Uh,” you cringe at the stiffness of your thigh muscles, “He does that to everyone. Seriously. I’ve seen him even give some of the referees sleazy looks. It’s just in his blood.” 

She whistles as you switch legs. “Well whatever his blood’s doing, I bet it’s working real hard.” 

“Ew!” You exclaim and laugh, letting her switch sides with you as you help her with her standing splits. “Never!” 

She laughs, finishing her other side. “Alright grumpy, let’s go get you some breakfast before you rip my head off and get even more hangry.” 

_____________________________________________________________________

You both get washed up and changed before heading over to the Dining Hall. It’s basically another stadium, with the lower levels transformed into a buffet style area and tables and chairs all looped together like high school all over again. 

Hoseok, one of the male figure skaters, joins your table and Seokjin appears a couple minutes after, his plate piled high with all the food he could find at the buffet. 

Hoseok cringes at the sight, “Jeez, dude, how many calories even is that thing?” 

You and Irene peer over to see a buttload of eggs, rice, noodles, meats, and salad piled onto his tray. The both of you sigh at the sight, watching dreamily as Seokjin shoves the food endlessly into his mouth. It was your own personal mukbang broadcast. 

“Uhhh two-touszhndf-mpmph” Seokjin mutters, and Hoseok glares again, cringing at the food that flies out of Seokjin’s mouth. 

“Two thousand?” You balk, resting your chin in your hand as you push a cherry tomato around on your plate with your fork. “Did you increase it since last time?” 

Seokjin nods, washing his huge mouthful down with a swig of orange juice. “I don’t know what it is about this weather, but I’m starving.” 

Irene sighs, setting down her cup. “God, I just wanna eat a big heaping bowl of french fries and a oozy, greasy cheeseburger right about now.” Hoseok nods in forlorn agreement and you nod too, pouting at the sad dressing-less salad in front of you. 

Seokjin talks again, food flying, “They have some! Over there! Can’t you sneak one? Our coaches aren’t even here.” 

Irene doesn’t even bother looking. She shakes her head. “No, it’ll affect our jumps. Really. Even the slightest bit of change in our weight will throw our center of gravity off. Plus, have you seen our outfits? They’re tight as fuck.” 

You nod, sighing as you swallow the last piece of cabbage. “Mine’s so tight I have to wear a stick-on bra instead of having it padded, like normal.” 

Hoseok cringes, “Hell ya, mine’s so tight I have to clench my ass cheeks everytime I do a sitting spin, or else the spandex gets too tight and gives me the absolute worst wedgie.” 

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Guys, shut up. You know who has the worst, tightest outfits? The swim team.” 

The three of you stop talking, and burst in laughter as Seokjin rolls his eyes. You imagine the swim team in their tiny little speedos, junk squeezed tight and asses practically fighting to get out. You snort, “HAHA, don’t those guys ever like accidentally moon someone or like slip out of those things? I feel like they’re so small on their hips, it’ll fit around me.” You giggle, and Irene joins you, laughing at Seokjin’s disgusted expression. 

He’s about to respond when a voice interrupts. “Talking about the swim team’s speedos?” 

You all turn to see Park Jimin, captain of the Men’s Ice Hockey team turn up with a few of his teammates to your table. He sets his tray down next to yours, and laughs when Irene nods. 

Seokjin resumes, “Okay they’re not that tight, like I won’t lose any sperm because of it. They’re just...snug.” 

Irene cackles. “How do you even know?! You’re a snowboarder!” 

He shrugs, chewing thoughtfully. “Sometimes when you’re boarding you need a little extra waterproof protection.” 

The entire table explodes into laughter and disgust, and you join in, finally feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders. 

“Man, this makes me remember how it was in camp all those years ago, doesn’t it?” Jimin adds, and you guys all reminisce to the high school days, where athletes would attend a “athlete-morale” camp over the summer every year, which was just a sorry excuse for job-less coaches to shove down inspiring speeches and “team-building” activities down your helpless throats. 

A lot of you separate into your own conversations, launching into giggles and yells of memories you all shared together. That’s how you knew so many of the Olympians here. Even though you all had different schedules and different sports and areas of interest, somehow most of you had gathered at this camp every summer without fail. And every summer, the lot of you would suffer and bitch and complain together about how stupid and useless the lessons and activities were, and plot ways to escape your cabins at night to sneak away and do some drinking or exploring. Given, you drove your camp leaders crazy. They’d never seen a group of athletes like you guys, they said as they warily sent you home after a week of sleepless nights. 

Jimin nudges you. “How have you been?” 

You grin, turning to him, “Good, you?” 

“Same as ever,” he grins, smiling the sweet smile where his eyes would crinkle. 

“Actually you look a little different, you lost a lot of your baby fat.” You reach over and pinch his cheeks, and he frowns at you humorously as you laugh. “I remember we used to call you acorn because your face was so round.” 

He groans, “Seriously, I never forgave Yoongi hyung for coming up with that name.” 

You laugh, sipping your coffee. “I hear you and your team won silver in nationals, congratulations.” 

He sighs, “Thanks, y/n, but you know in our world, only the gold is worth congratulating for.” 

You nod, “I know how that feels.” Shrugging, he agrees with you, sending you a sad forlorn apologetic smile. He probably heard down the grapevine that you’d gotten silver.

“But at least this year, you’re gonna win gold right?” 

You shrug, picking at your cup. “I don’t know...the routine is really hard and I’m still jet lagged and not feeling my best. I’m getting nervous, and that anxiety was exactly why I stumbled a bit during my routine last year and lost the gold to Jennie.” 

“Ah Jennie,” he recalls, “Pretty, but sort of a bitch.” He shrugs, and Irene cuts in. “Sort of? Nope, she’s such a bitch.” 

The two conversations between yours and Jimin’s and Irene’s with Hoseok and Seokjin merge as Irene rolls her eyes. “Oh my god, it was ridiculous. Jennie’s routine wasn’t half as great as y/n’s but there was a slight stumble, which wasn’t even a stumble, and Jennie won. Which is ridiculous because Jennie actually tripped and had to leave out a spin on one of her turns to make sure she didn’t actually fall.” 

Hoseok tips his head. “Y/n, you stumbled?” 

Before you can even answer, Irene does it for you. “It was literally just a slight stumble, at most she switched her blade and landed with a bit more spark than usual.” 

You shrug, nodding at Irene to thank her for explaining it. You’d had to explain it way too many times now. “Whatever, it’s past now, and there’s not much I can do about it. We’re both here now, so it’s just important that I stay focused.” 

Seokjin nods. “Don’t worry, y/n. You’ll win. I’m sure of it.” 

Hoseok snorts, “How?” 

Seokjin makes a funny face, “Didn’t ya’ll know that I’m a genius and got voted the #1 most handsome face of the Olympians? If anyone knows things like that, it’s me.” He says, and everyone chuckles at it. Same ol’ Seokjin. 

“Speaking of which, here comes #1 most “daddy” Olympian.” Hoseok comments, glancing at the entrance of the dining hall. By instinct, you turn with Irene in your chair to see Jeon Jungkook sauntering in with the rest of his snowboarding team. 

The guys are gorgeous, with languid body movements, but strong bulky builds underneath all their protective waterproof jackets. Their jaws were chiseled and their looked rugged in that hot way. Jaebum, the one on Jungkook’s left was Irene’s favorite for a while, and was handsome and charming enough to even appear on a couple of variety shows and drama cameos. The snowboarders were actual celebrities back home.

You roll your eyes and turn back as quickly as possible, but not before Jungkook’s gaze settles on yours with a smirk. “I don’t even understand how that vote was even cast.” You grumble, sipping your coffee. “Seriously, out of all the other athletes, Jungkook? Gross.” 

Jimin laughs. “Well, who do you think would have been #1 then?” 

You groan, cringing. “To be honest, you or Seokjin.” 

All of you laugh as Seokjin pumps his fist, “Yes!” He cries out, food flying out of his mouth again, to Hoseok’s horror. “I knew it. Y/n think’s I’m hotter than Jeon Jungkook!” 

“Shut up!” you hiss, laughing as you try to get him to sit down, but it’s too late. At the sound of his name, Jeon Jungkook is drawn to your table like a fly to a light and grins as he walks over. “Incoming,” Irene hisses as she smiles up fakely at Jungkook. 

“I heard my name, are you guys talking about me?” He drawls, grinning as he perches a hand on the back of your chair. You ignore him and eat your yogurt. 

Jimin laughs, lifting a hand to shake hands with Jungkook. “’Sup dude, it’s been a while. Lookin’ good.” He smiles and you watch in disgust as Jungkook laughs, tainting Jimin’s innocent and beautiful presence with an entire bucketful of gross cocky frat-boy confidence. 

“I’ve been cutting a little bit, trying to not bulk too much these days,” Jungkook shrugs, flexing his arm a little to the delight of the gymnasts a few tables over. “I started getting a little less air once I started bulking up. But you’re lookin’ better bro, you guys training a lot?” 

Jimin nods, clapping the teammate next to him on a shoulder lightheartedly. He grins his charming smile again, his eyes crinkling on the sides. “Yeah, our couch has been pushing us real hard these days, but it’s been working. We’re all at our best weights of the season, and feeling real good for the upcoming games.” He smiles at you, glancing sadly at your poor little salad. “Y/n, you must be having a hard time recently too, right? Coach has us on a strict diet, but yours is probably stricter, isn’t it?”

You sigh, pushing around your cold chicken breast around on the plate for both guys to see. “I eat less than a thousand calories per day, all divided into six tiny meals. Helps keep off the weight so that I can jump higher. I can’t remember the last time I had an all-you-can-eat korean barbeque dinner. Maybe it was when I was in elementary school? Legit over a decade ago.” You shake your head as you picture the cold piece of meat as a sizzling hunk of delicious pork. 

It doesn’t help. 

Jungkook laughs, inviting himself to take the empty seat next to yours, his arm draped over the back. “Well, I for one, think you have an amazing body.” He winks at you and you pretend to gag as everyone chuckles at the table. 

“Gross!” you exclaim, pointing your fork menacingly at him. “Don’t you have some other girls to flirt with besides me? I’ve had enough fratboy for a day.” 

He grins, hand splaying across your back, warm against your skin. “Trust me, y/n, you’ll never have enough of me.” He winks and bids everyone a dumb cocky drawled “Later guys,” and walks off with his boy band team. 

Hoseok grins at you, “Was I high off my painkillers for a second or did Jeon Jungkook actually flirt with you and basically imply that he wanted to bang?” 

You choke on a piece of lettuce as everyone around the table nods, Irene and Seokjin chiming in with a simultaneous, “Totally.” Before turning to eachother with wide eyes and high-fiving. 

“Gross!” You exclaim again for the second time that morning, washing it down with a swig of water. “Me with Jeon Jungkook? I feel my ovaries shriveling up at the thought of sleeping with that frat-boy pig.” Jimin just watches you carefully.

Hoseok shrugs, “I bet if you sleep with him, it won’t just be your ovaries shriveling up. I hear he’s great in bed.” 

“Ugh! God Hoseok! Can you like not?” You cringe, and he laughs. 

“I can’t help it! He’s cute!! If he swung this way, I’d jump on that even before he could even know he was gay.” 

Everyone laughs and shakes their head at Hoseok’s blunt gayness, and you just grin uncomfortably as you turn back to your salad. You look up to see Jimin just watching you with a shy smile as he continues eating without a word. 

After breakfast, it was time to stretch a little more and actually start skating. You say bye to the rest of the crew and make your way to the gym again with Irene. You cringe, massaging your shoulder as you walk over. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, kneading the sore muscles. “My shoulder is all messed up...” 

Irene turns with a worried expression. “Oh shoot, I knew that not sleeping with a neck pillow would mess with your trap muscles. Did you bring your muscle cream with you?” 

Rummaging through your pack, you frown, “No...shit it really hurts though.” 

She pushes you towards the dorms. “Go and get it before we get on the rink, Coach’ll kill you if she finds out you didn’t treat it before getting on the ice. You know how she is. One little painful thing and she’ll go crazy on you and make sure you get it treated and ban you from the ice until it’s better.” 

You nod, biting your lip. “Don’t wait up for me!” You jog in the direction of the dorms. 

It’s a bit chilly, but the cardio helps a little as you make your way up the lavish road towards the towering buildings. The olympic villages...were always nice on the outside, but pretty dumb on the inside. 

Athletes were organized into country teams and shoved into tiny little apartments by gender, provided with college dormitory-style like rooms with two or three beds shoved into them with skinny little closets for your coats and stuff. You sigh as the dorm doors open to a rush of cold air, and scan your nametag before jogging over to the elevator, staring at your phone and logging your breakfast calories. 

The elevator opens and you nonchalantly walk inside, but right before the doors close, a hand comes in and slams the door crevice, forcing the doors to open automatically. You frown at the noise and look up to see who it is, and your jaw drops as you see Jungkook smirking at you as he steps in the elevator. You roll your eyes and drop your neck back to your phone as your typing fingers become a little harsher at the screen of your phone.

He grins at you, “Whatcha doin’?” 

“Trying to have some alone time,” you grumble, rolling your eyes at nothing in particular. He grins and somehow in his brain interprets it as an invitation to move closer and peer at your phone screen. “Sexting?” 

“No, god Jungkook,” you yelp, twisting the screen away from him, “You’re still super gross.” 

He laughs as the doors open and he trails after you. “This isn’t even your floor.” You grumble, walking down the hall towards your room anyway. 

“This isn’t even my building, but you knew that already.” He shrugs, grinning at you. He knew you too well, and he knew that too. God, you just wanted to strangle him in that pretty little neck of his. You unlock your door and he hovers, watching you rummage around your room for the bright blue container of your muscle cream.

“So, you have a thing with the hockey player?” He leans against your door, eyeing you with a cocky smirk.

You huff and drop your duffel, giving up on finding the muscle cream you were positive you packed. Hands on your hips, you face him with a glare.

“Just because I exchanged a couple of words with Jimin doesn’t mean I’m dating him, Jungkook. I’m not like you, fucking the first thing he sees.”

He hisses between his teeth, throwing his head back as he chuckles. “Oooo that burned. Straight from the ice princess. You really chose your sport didn’t ya? Double meaning and all.”

Glaring, you roll your eyes and turn back to digging through the drawers. “Why the hell are you here? I need to apply my muscle cream.”

Grinning, he produces a condom packet from his pocket. “Guess what? These are Olympic grade. I would hate to waste them when they’re giving ‘em away so freely.” Shrugging, he gestures between the both of you. “We can see if they work as well as they’re supposed to?”

When you don’t reply, he grins again, letting the door shut behind him and lock as he saunters over to you.

“So whaddyou say, for old times sake?” 

You groan, whirling around and facing him head on with a glare. 

“Jungkook,” you grit, “we slept together twice. Four years ago. There is no old time’s sake.” You wave your arms dramatically. 

He laughs, leaning back comfortably on your bed, and you groan. “Yeah it was four years ago, but equally as good. I mean,” he wonders, flipping the condom around in his fingers, “who knew that the goody little ice princess was actually such a freak in bed?” 

You finally find the annoying little blue container and spin at him with hands on your hips. “Stop talking about that night. It never happened, okay? No one can know.” You twist open the container and unzip your jacket to reveal your sports bra and turn away from Jungkook to apply it. 

He watches you struggle to reach the spot near your shoulder blade. “Need help?” 

You glare at him over your shoulder. “No.” 

He shrugs, “Your legs are flexible, but you know your arms not flexible enough to reach it and everyone’s out for training now. I’ll do it, no funny business.” He stands, and you glare at him but let him draw nearer as he takes the container from you. 

“Turn around,” he says gently, and begins to slather on the cream into your shoulder and neck, rubbing it in so that the stickiness is absorbed completely into your skin. You wince as he rubs too hard and he apologizes, setting the container down and concentrating on not rubbing too hard. 

“It wasn’t only four, you know,” he mutters, and you pause, frowning. “What?” 

“We slept together twice four years ago during the games, but we also slept together a couple more times after that. Just not at the games.” He stops rubbing, and you jerk your jacket onto your shoulder again, standing up from the bed with a glare as you pack your backpack. 

“Dont,” you warn, teeth gritted, “talk about that in front of anyone, ever. It could jeopardize our careers. Do you understand?! A few drunken nights together doesn’t mean anything! No matter how hot you think you are!” You storm off, jamming your shoes on and stomping outside. 

The only thing you hear before the door slams shut is his cocky voice calling out, “So you think I’m hot?!” 

Turn, Triple toe loop, land, Bielmann spin, stop, smile, turn again blade change.

You chant the routines in your head as you glide over the ice with the music. Although there were still 2 weeks left ahead of your actual performance, it was still crucial that you skated your program more than 10 times a day so that it was completely muscle memory by the time you stepped onto Olympic ice. 

Your teammates watch carefully from the sidelines with your coach, who’s carefully scrutinizing your every move. You finish with a flourish, chest heaving as the swell of music ends. 

Irene claps happily and Hoseok also joins her, cheering your name as you crumble over, hands on your knees as you heave with the effort of skating heavily for so long. Your coach steps onto the ice, patting your back as you put on your skate guards and take a seat. 

“Good job Y/N,” she nods, stepping aside to let other skaters take to the ice. “Why don’t you go home today and stretch a little? You’re looking a little stiff.” 

You nod, and on the corner of your eye, you see Jennie Kim step onto the ice. “Sure thing, coach, but let me stay behind and watch this one.” Coach Kim follows your gaze and softens. “Y/N,” she urges, “I don’t know if it’ll help you to watch her program.” 

“It’s fine!” You reassure her with a smile and join Hoseok and Irene on the benches as the music begins. 

Jennie was a phenomenal skater, everyone agreed. She was beautiful and thin and charming and knew exactly how to flirt on the ice. What you lacked in with performance skills, she excelled in with expressions and smiles, and what she lacked in technical jumps and clean cut programs, she excelled in making it look even more effortless and flirting with the audience enough to grant standing ovations and performing with a lot of emotion. 

As the three of you watch her run through her program, she completes jumps and spins that you never expected her to be able to complete. “How the hell did she learn to do the triple lutz triple toe loop combo?! I thought last show she had to cut it out of her program because she couldn’t land it properly!” You hiss, and Irene shrugs, her jaw hanging open too. “I don’t know...” she says lowly, watching Jennie glide over the ice as if she were weightless. “That...that’s impossible to do within what...six weeks? Even Rose couldn’t do it like that.” 

Hoseok gasps, “Oh my god, she faked that she couldn’t do it so she’d lower your expectations.” 

You frown and watch her finish her routine, one she stops and gets claps from other people also watching from the stands. Your coach pats you on the shoulder. “Although her routine is a lot more complex than we thought it would be, if you execute ours perfectly, you’re bound to get a hell of a lot more points than she can. Your training is gonna pay off, don’t worry about it.” 

Chewing on your lip, you nod, crossing your arms and worriedly walking out of the rink. 

Your steps are heavy as you head towards the gym. Jennie and you had once been peers, two young girls who began skating together for fun and ended up enjoying it and being actually good at it. But then, somehow, somewhere within all the competition, you both had stopped doing eachother’s makeup and hair between performances, and instead had resorted to smirks and jeers as you challenged eachother. 

Your gold medal or championship trophies matched the number of ones she had, and the both of you were neck to neck during every single match you could ever think of since you both became teenagers. 

This was probably going to be your final or second to last Olympics, and then you would end up doing promotions for companies or becoming a trainer for the rest of your life. If you wanted to live comfortably, you would have to skate like your life depended on it, and Jennie did too. Whatever medals the both of you won today would go down in history and determine the next years to come. If you didn’t win that gold medal this year, you were determined to just retire before it became even more embarrassing. 

The gym is full, with the sun high up in the air at 2pm. You can see a group of hockey players fiddling with the weights alongside the swimmers who were working the machines. The gymnasts and the female swimmers were already stretching in the padded room, and the running machines full of all types of athletes. Immediately, when you enter, the white shirt stretched over Jungkook’s back muscles is the first thing you see. 

Ignoring the clenching feeling of anxiety in your gut, you head over to the stretching area to begin cooling off. 

Feet out, leg as high up as you can, you coax yourself, mimicking what your coach would be telling you as of now. You can feel the stiffness, all the way back to your calves and the muscle cream from yesterday wasn’t helping all that much. Facing the mirror, you balance a hand on the beam and lean forward, lifting your leg up high far above your head as you balance on one foot, preparing for one of your spins. 

Through the mirror, you see him come in, his head swiveling as he surveys the myriad of other girls stretching and then smiling wide as he jogs over to you, throwing his sweaty towel around his neck. Gross. 

“So,” he says, leaning against the bar with a greasy smile. “Did you think about what I said?” 

You roll your eyes and continue stretching. “How many times did I tell you that there’s absolutely nothing to talk about?” 

“How many times after that night did you even have sex at all?” He scoffs, moving around to face you when you turn to switch sides.

“Did you like, even go out after that?” He prods, watching you stretch through the mirror. He wipes his sweat with the small hand towel, spraying some water from his bottle into his mouth and shaking out his sweaty bangs.

You switch legs, making another face when it strains a little. He notices, “oh, uh, do you need some help with that?”

You finally acknowledge him after twenty minutes of ignoring him. He was persistent, you had to give him that. Rolling your eyes you nod, “Do you remember how?”

“No,” he scoffs, but steps forward anyway, cradling your ankle in his larger hands. He’s hot, the cool temperature of the stretching area doing nothing to cool off his skin. He steps forward so the both of you are almost a hand width apart and places your ankle daintily on his broad shoulder. He then steps even closer, supporting your lower back with his hands and slowly pressing in to help stretch the calves and hamstrings.

You wimper a little because he’s almost an entire head and a half taller than your petite size and the leg on his shoulder is pressed almost to your chest. Squeezing your eyes shut you breathe in and out, the both of your bodies rocking slightly to accommodate the inflation of your lungs into your chest.

You can feel the heat emanating off his chest as he stands there looking down at you with the hardness of his body pressed up against the back of your thigh. It’s hard to not let your mind wander at that, flashbacks of drunken irresponsible high school days when you’d go to bed with him fucking you from behind and wake up to him kissing between your legs. And then you’d finish off with a nice hot bath and some good food. Back when you had no responsibilities, no worries, and no burdens on your shoulders.

The moment causes your mind to go a little hazy and in the fleeting few seconds of feeling vulnerable and the flood of hormones at the familIr feeling of his body against yours you whisper, “I haven’t” in response to his questions before. It’s too quiet to be heard over the high quality air conditioner whirring almost silently in the corner, but nonetheless his proximity lets him hear the two words.

He doesn’t say anything though, and lets your leg down from his shoulder and helps you get the other one onto his right shoulder. Rinse and repeat. But just as you open your mouth to say something more, a hand on the small of your back smooths over the curve of your hip and up your thigh and over to your ankle. Holding it delicately there, his hand grips it wth a firm and warm grasp, as he angles his head down to meet your questioning gaze.

“Me neither.” He whispers, and steps forward to press himself tightly against you. Your back presses against the bar and your hands flutter up from it to grip his forearms. You distinctly feel his hardness pressed against your belly. 

“Seriously? Don’t lie to me Jeon Jungkook. The last time we slept together was months ago.”

“I’m serious!” You give him a glare. 

“Do you…?” He trails off, and begins blinking like he does when he gets nervous.

The question lingers heavily over the hum of the running machines and air purifiers lining the training area.

His hands release your ankle and sets it gingerly on the ground, and he steps back, the warmth of his body and his chest and his hands and his breath leaving you all at once. You stumble a little back, your back resting on the bar.

Space, he was giving you space to decide.

You sigh, flexing your hands that are beginning to sweat. Your performance wasn’t for another two weeks. What did you have to lose?

Thinking about the way Jennie glided over that triple-toe-triple-lutz combination with no effort at all made you rage all the way inside, insides glowing hot from the annoyance of being fooled by her again. What was just one night of sex going to do? Your coach told you to relax and make sure you weren’t too stressed out and anxious...this...this was just an interesting way of doing it. What she didn’t know wouldn’t kill her.

“Fine,” you huff, stepping forward, gathering your things and heading out, as he jogs after you with a surprised look. “But on one condition, Jeon Jungkook. You cannot tell anyone. Are we clear?” 

He smirks, running a hand through his hair. “Clear as ice.” 

“Fuck,” you wimper as the the door slams shut behind you and Jungkook crowds your personal space. He’s breathing heavily, yanking harshly at your jacket zipper until it falls to the ground and your sports bra is all you’re wearing on top. He unzips that too and lets it fall to the ground, kissing you senselessly, lips moving against yours and drawing out your breaths and moans. 

“God I missed this,” he breathes, grabbing your waist and hoisting you up. Wrapping your legs around his waist you tongue at his neck as he sets you on his bed and strips off his jacket. “Did you miss me too?” He smirks as he sucks on your nipple crewdly and you moan in response, hips bucking up into his. 

“No--oh my god” you keen when he yanks down your legging and rubs at you through your underwear. Your hand flies down to grip his wrist, eyes squeezing shut at the sensation. “Oh-- fuck, please don’t stop.” 

He just chuckles and yanks your underwear band aside to reveal your dripping core, sliding his fingers in you with no obstruction at all. “Oh shit, Y/N, you’re so fucking wet,” he grumbles, nipping at your breast as you mewl and twist under the onslaught of sensations. 

“Take your pants off,” you breathe, panting harshly as he kneels up to peel his shirt off, revealing white milky skin, textured with taught lines and lean muscle. You help him untie the strings on his sweatpants, nimble fingers working desperately at the waistband until Jungkook gets impatient and just yanks it down his hips along with his boxers. 

While he grabs a condom, you yank off your panties, pushing him to sit up against the headboard of the bed. You straddle him, throwing a thigh over his hips and resting your hands on his shoulders for leverage. 

Were his shoulders always this broad? 

You shake away the thought as he grips himself and guides himself to your center, rubbing his sensitive tip against your wetness and smearing it around to make it more comfortable. You busy yourself with sucking a hickey against his collarbone, licking and biting until the clean flesh becomes red and inflamed and shiny with your spit. 

“Ready?” He breathes out, pupils blown out as he pants up at you. You nod and lower yourself on him slowly, and Jungkook moves his hand from gripping himself to settle and help you guide your hips down onto him. The both of you moan when you bottom out, panting and gripping each other desperately. When the stretch isn’t so bad, you rock your hips slowly back and forth, not yet bouncing up and down on him yet. 

The movement stimulates your clit against his pelvis and you moan, throwing your head back and looping your arms around his neck as you continue to swivel your hips on him. Jungkook sits there, eyes heavy lidded as he watches you with a slight smile on his lips. His hand raises to curl your hair over your shoulder, his hand following and resting on your neck as he leans down to kiss against your neck, tongue laving heavily, hot and wet against your skin as  you cling to him. 

He’s marking you too, focusing on the area right where your jawline meets your ear and nibbling against it, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin, making you moan. “Jungkook,” you whine, and he seems to understand what you’re asking for when his hand settles on your hips again and he begins to guide you up and down his length. 

The extra stimulation gets him going and he cringes. “Fuck, Y/N,” he grits his teeth and his hairline begins to dot with sweat at the effort. “I...I’m gonna cum s-soon.” 

“Already?” You gasp, opening your eyes to ask him. He nods, biting his lip as he groans, his jaw falling open. “I-it’s been a r-really long t-time. And you feel s-so fucking good. Hngh.” He groans as you squeeze around him in response to his praise. 

“Okay,” you breathe, “Just wait for me, hold on.” You reach down and rub your clit in wide circles, gathering the wetness from where you and Jungkook meet, and pressing into your clit with the pads of your fingers. Jungkook just buries his face into your neck, panting harshly against your collarbone as you continue to swivel your hips, moaning and rubbing like your life depended on it. 

With the feeling of Jungkooks lips on your nipples and his hands roaming your body, and his dick reaching parts of you that your fingers can’t even think of stimulating, and along with the 7-month-long hiatus from sex with him, you find yourself reaching the edge fairly quickly. 

“O-oh shit, Jungkook,” you whisper, letting him take over in rubbing circles on your clit, “I-I’m gonna---” You bite down on his shoulder, dampening the moans that tumble out of your mouth as you topple over the edge. At the sensation, Jungkook cums almost simultaenously as he finally lets himself go, and his moans spur you on as you quake over him and both your hips stutter at the overwhelming rush of pleasure. 

You pant and tremble as the sensations run through your entire body, your eyes rolling back as you moan and mewl and say whatever the fuck is coming out of your mouth right now at the feelings. But apparently it’s not completely and utterly horseshit that you’re muttering right now because Jungkook rocks up into you, riding out his own high and groaning your name loudly as his orgasm subsides. 

He laughs a little when he finishes, and the action makes him move a bit inside of you and you cringe, muttering a “ew you’re so sticky,” as you climb off of him. He stands after you, following you into the shower and flushing down the condom. Grinning and leaning against the doorway, he watches you climb into the shower and hose down your body. 

“How the hell were you hooked up with your own room? And bathroom?” You mutter, using the body wash there to clean off all the sweat. 

When he doesn’t respond, you turn, but a hand snakes around your waist. “Let me,” he murmurs, grabbing the soap from you and running along your back, his warm hands scratching over your skin. You let your head fall back at the sensation as he focuses a little too much on your breasts, swirling over the nipple with circular motions and gentle hands. “Again?” 

“Let’s save water,” he grins and you let him. 

You don’t save any water that day. It was 44 minutes too long. 

“Let’s go get some food,” Jungkook whines, as you both finish, collapsing on the bed with panting breathes as you come down from your high. His hands cradle your waist as you take a moment to gather yourself before you prop yourself up. 

“Huh?” You wrinkle your nose down at him, propping your arms on his chest. 

He laughs, sitting up and grabbing his shirt. “You said you were hungrier earlier. And we barely ate today, after gymming in the morning. I’m starving,” he whines, pouting at you and  you laugh, rolling off of his bed to grab your clothes. 

“I can’t,” you whine, pouting at your belly and poking the skin there. “If coach finds out I’m eating anything other than the diet we’re limited to, she’ll kill me.” 

He rolls his eyes, shrugging on a hoodie. “Oh god,” he groans, pulling on his baggy pants with easy. “You’re literally skinnier than some models that I’ve slept with.” 

You glare at him when he mentions the models and he laughs guiltily. “Sorry,” he grins, “But it’s true. You can afford to eat whatever you like. C’mon, just one meal won’t hurt.” 

You sigh, pulling on your leggings and a clean pair of underwear. Somehow...you ended up having a stash of underwear hidden deep within Jungkook’s drawers. 

“Fine,” you grumble, but the grin on your face says otherwise. It’d been ages since you ate anything other than the planned dietary foods prepared for you by your coach and  parents. This...this time wouldn’t be too bad. No one would notice. 

“Where’s my phone?” You grumble, digging through the bedsheets and your bag as you search for it. 

Jungkook shrugs, shaking out his hair. “I’ll meet you outside, gonna pee before we go.” 

You shrug him off and he leaves, and you finally find the device and slip it into your pocket. You also grab Jungkook’s really baggy hoodie and pull it over your thin workout spandex long sleeve and leggings, relishing in the way his smell floods your senses as the warm and soft fabric tumbles down your body all the way to your mid-thigh. Grinning, you turn to open the door, calling out, “Jungkook I--” 

Standing down the hall, with a packet of yogurt hanging from his lips and eyes as wide as yours, is Seokjin. His hand lingers on his doorknob, and he balks at you as you stand in Jungkook’s single room, in his clothes, and takes one glance at the messy room full of your stuff and mussed up bedsheets, and connects the dots immediately. 

“Seokjin...” you breathe, eyes darting to the main entrance. 

“What the fuck?” He sputters, pulling out the plastic packet from his mouth and stomping up to you. “You’re the girl that Jungkook’s been fucking?”

You bite your lip, trying to rack up any excuse, but you come up blank. “Oh my god, Seokjin, you can’t tell anyone! Not even Irene, if coach finds out she’ll kill me---” 

He whisper-yells at you. “Have you even met our coach? He’ll rip our balls off one by one if he knew Jungkook was slacking off in any way.” 

“Also,” he adds, frowning, “How dare you?! I thought you said he was gross.” 

You grin sheepishly. “It just happened...the stress and all, and there’s a lot of time in 3 weeks for 24 hours...” 

He shakes his head trying to get the image of you out of his head. “God,” he hisses, “I’ve been trying to set the two of you up for years! And all you two did was give me shit for it. Little did I know you two were already getting it on,” he glances behind him, to the vicinity of his room, whipping back around to you furiously. “And right next to my room?!” 

You sigh, gripping his arm. “C’mon Seokjin I know you won’t tell, but I need you to say it out loud. Please, promise me you won’t tell.” 

He sighs, groaning at you before relenting. “Alright, fine. But only because you gave me really yummy vitamins next week and medicine for my constipation.” 

You grin, reaching up to hug him. When he leaves for his room, Jungkook finally emerges from the restroom, grinning. “Whatcha two talkin’ about?” He grins, cocking his chin at Seokjin’s door. 

You march up to him, punching him hard. He doubles over, winded. “What the fuck Jungkook?!” you hiss, “I thought you said no one’s home before 3!” 

He winces, groaning and clutching his stomach. “Jeez woman,” he croaks, “Who the fuck taught you how to punch?” 

You smirk, “Get up. I’m hungry now.” He grins as he leads you to the front door. He reaches down and pulls the hood of his sweater up and around your head, bunching it low over your eyes. “Good,” he comments, doing the same to his own. “We can’t get caught sneaking out. I know of a way.” He winks and leads you down the elevator and towards the edge of the campus. 

“Where?” You hiss, jogging after him. 

He grins at you, pulling you alongside him with a warm hand that curls around yours. “Just trust me.” He walks straight for where the trash deposits are, and you wrinkle your nose at the smell of rotting food and boxes of cardboard strewn messily in the garage. But in the corner, you can clearly see a door marked with a red EXIT sign. 

“That’s the only one that doesn’t lock, all around campus,” he explains, slowly and gently opening it and glancing around to make sure the coast is clear before jogging out with you. “The others have cameras or guards, but this one I guess was forgotten with all the other construction that was going on.” 

You hmm in agreement and relish in the way Jungkook’s hand feels against yours. It’s a lot bigger, and his long fingers curl all the way to the middle of your palm, where his thumb strokes gently and warmly against your smooth skin. Feeling the way your hand is freezing cold, he pockets both your hands in his jacket pockets, nesting both your hands in the warm comforts of his down jacket. 

After a bit of walking, you make it to a decently crowded pedestrian area where he leads you to a corner of the street, where a tiny snack shop sits. Your mouth waters at the sight of a couple people inside, drinking hot soups and chowing down on instant ddukbokki’s and kimbap’s and ramen bowls that made your stomach churn with anticipation. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper, as Jungkook grins at you and leads you up to the stands, taking a seat in the corner. He still doesn’t let go, letting your intertwined hands rest on the plastic foldable table. “How did you find this place?” you whisper, after he orders a heaping pile of food for the both of you. 

“It’s a secret passed down through the snowboarding team for generations,” he winks, grinning when the cook brings over a steaming pile of rice cakes and korean pancakes and kimbap for you both to start on. You use the skewer to grab a piece and pop it into your mouth, humming and grinning at the wonderful taste of spicy and sweet that bursts within your mouth. Moaning at the sensation, you skewer a few more pieces into your mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he explains. 

“The hyungs would sneak out every chance we get. Our coach is a little...stiff and strict, but he lets us do this sort of in an apology for how strict he usually is.” 

You nod, chewing and washing it down with a sip of hot soup. “And does he come with you?” 

Jungkook shakes his head, using his free hand to grab a kimbap and chew on it. “Nope, he lets us have our thing. It’s like a tradition. I think this year, the team plans to come back here at least a few more times before we have to go back.” 

You grin, happily finishing up the plate of rice cakes. Staring at the empty bottom in horror you gulp. “Oh shit, when did I finish this whole thing?” You frown, trying to count the calories in your head. “Fuck, I’m screwed.” Dropping your skewer, you feel tears of shame brimming in your eyes.

Jungkook just frowns and shakes his head. He calls out for another order and you protest, but he just retorts, “Even the people with the best bodies let themselves have cheat days for goodness sake. You need this, Y/N. Don’t just de-stress with sex, rejuvenate with some food too.” 

You melt under his worried words and grin, sheepishly nodding when he hands you a new skewer. 

“Thanks Jungkook,” you whisper, taking another sip of the delicious ramen. “I love this place.” 

He grins, his hand curling around yours tighter. 

Once the both of you finish eating, he takes you around a bit more to explore, and then the both of you stumble back into his dorm. 

“Oh my god,” He mumbles into your neck as you unbuckle his jeans and slip a hand down his boxers. “Your hands are freezing,” he grits, licking and kissing at your neck as you pump him tightly in your fist. 

You giggle, letting him undo the zipper of your jacket and slide your jumper off of your torso. His hands fall heavily on your breasts, cradling them and letting their weight fall into his palms as he presses you into his warm bed. “Yours too,” you pant, the end of your declaration hitching up into a moan as he moves his mouth down to suck harshly at your nipple before tenderly running his warm tongue over it. 

“Let me warm you up,” he moans, and you remove your hand from his pants as he gets busy getting rid of yours. Once completely off and your leggings and panties thrown haphazardly over his shoulder, he hikes your thighs up over his shoulders and licks a warm stripe up your slit. 

Your head falls back onto the pillows, abs tensing as Jungkook gets to work, his warm mouth and tongue laving all over your lips and slit, maneuvering in patterns that make you twist and turn like putty under his hands. Your own hands are gripping at his forearms crossed over your belly, anchoring you to the bed, nails digging into his cold skin and scratching at the nape of his neck where you hold the strands of his hair tightly. 

“F-fuck,” you moan, hips jostling against his arms, “I-I can’t...Jungkook, just put it in...” you beg, core clenching as he boldly pushes you right up against the point of tipping over. But no matter how good you taste and how beautiful you sound and look right now, Jungkook also agrees that the best way to watch you cum is when you’re writhing underneath him. 

“Fine,” he mutters, rolling his eyes at you. 

So he licks one last cheeky stripe up against your clit, the rough pad of his tongue stimulating you enough to make you jump before he gets up, carding off his shirt and pants as he climbs up your body and meets you in the middle with a sloppy kiss. 

He hastily puts on the condom and slides into you with no intrusion, settling his warm weight on yours, chest against yours and hips gently rocking into your core. You moan and clutch at him desperately, throwing your arms around his neck and curling your legs around him like a vice. 

Jungkook lets out a strangled moan of your name, stuttering, “Sh-shit, don’t clench, y-you’re so fucking tight,” he grits, and when you see the way his jaw tenses in the effort to not cum too fast, you can’t help but lean up and nip teasingly at his ear and scrape your teeth against the sharp jawline. 

“C’mon,” you whisper, whining as he begins rutting into you faster, “Hurry,” you moan, and Jungkook leans up, detaching from your neck to sit up a bit better and piston his hips into you, angling himself just enough so the tip of his cock slides and taps right against the spot that has your toes curling and your eyes rolling into the back of your skull. You moan and pant and whine like an animal in heat as Jungkook wipes the sweat off his brow, and gets this steely look on his face as he drives home. 

The both of you finish, eachother’s names on the tip of your tongues and moans as you huskily whine and pant, bodies trembling with the overexertion of so much sex and the overwhelming pleasure of both your climaxes. 

Jungkook collapses on you, breathing heavily, and you let him stay there, kissing small innocent, apologetic kisses into the soft flesh of your chest as he comes down from his high. 

You begin giggling, as he does so, cringing a bit from the oversensitivity of the orgasm and laughing at the tickling feeling of his lips smoothing so softly over your skin. 

“One more time?” He asks, and he instantly feels the way your breath hitches and shudders at the suggestion. 

You smirk down at him, bringing him in for a kiss. 

“Of course,” you whisper against his lips, smiling as he grins and meets you halfway again. 

You didn’t go home at all that night. 

tbd! 

[precuredaily]

Precure Day 114

Episode: Futari wa Precure Splash Star 16 - “Dreams, Hopes, and Kenta’s Worries!” Date watched: 20 April 2019 Original air date: 21 May 2006 Screenshots: https://imgur.com/a/9tLWpZb Project info and master list of posts: http://tinyurl.com/PCDabout

Kenta overhears Avengers: Endgame spoilers

I’m not sure if Splash Star is a bit more on-the-nose with its life lessons than FW/MH were, or if I’m just more acclimated than I was when watching those seasons, but this is another episode with a very clear moral theme, and also parallels to an episode of Max Heart... and a conclusion that almost (almost) undercuts the whole thing.

Kenta is in a bit of a slump, and after some pressing from Saki, he admits that he overheard his parents having a conversation that seems to be about how they want him to take over running the boat rental shop eventually. He takes this to mean that they don’t really believe in or care about his dream of being a professional comedian, and he’s not sure what to do next. Mai mentions that her brother’s dream is to become an astronaut, which her whole family found silly at first, but when they realized he was serious, they decided to support him fully. Kenta is unconvinced, so Saki suggests they all go to Mai’s place after school and talk to Kazuya directly. Meanwhile, the Kiryuu sisters are eerily standing behind a door, listening to all of this, confused about the concept of pursuing dreams.

creepers gonna creep

Kenta doesn’t see any value in this, convinced that his dream is over and his parents don’t care, but Saki drags him along to Mai’s house anyway.

that wasn’t hyperbole, she literally drags him

The talk with Kazuya is less inspiring than they might have hoped, as he admits that his dream may not come true, but he’s got to work for it or it will definitely never come true. Kenta is still not very convinced and goes home to ruminate on it.

The next day at school, he’s still feeling down, and Saki calls him out on this. They argue for a minute and he says he’s already given up on his dream before storming off. Michiru speaks up from behind a surprised Saki to ask if she thinks dreams are really that important, because the twins don’t think they are. Kaoru starts to speak up about her own dream....

homework, sports, world destruction, you know, the usual.

You may have noticed Dorodoron creeping in the background of that shot as well. He did not go unnoticed by the sisters, and after Saki walks off he talks with the two of them and asks that they not get in his way today, as he has his own dream.... to defeat the Precure and become Akudaikaan’s right hand man.

((doubt))

Saki isn’t letting Kenta’s depression get her down though, and she goes to an extra training session after softball practice and works her heart out. Mai similarly decides to live in the moment and put her all into her drawing at the art club. Kenta watches the softball practice and cheers on Saki, starting to reconsider her words. Saki’s training is interrupted by Dorodoron of course, who has an Uzainaa made out of pipes that shoots mud. Saki is angry at him for interrupting when she was trying her hardest, which he responds to with scorn. Mai quickly appears and the pair transform. Without missing a beat, the monster shoots mudballs at them, which they block with their spirit power but are visibly weakened. Dorodoron taunts them, since he chose this time to attack thinking Saki would be weak after expending all her energy in practice. (That’s actually smart!) Unfortunately for him, he’s just pissed the girls off, and they respond that nothing is impossible for them if they never give up! Then they knock the Uzainaa on its ass before blowing it away with Twin Stream Splash. At least he tried!

After the dust settles, Saki wakes up a sleeping Kenta and he admits that watching Saki practice has reinvigorated his interest, and he vows to take the first step towards his dream that day. Saki and Mai follow him home, where he confesses to his parents that he really wants to be a comedian and he can’t take over their shop. They’re confused, because they never had any doubts about his future or any expectation that he would take over the business, and it turns out the conversation he overheard was about them leaving for a weekend vacation, where he’d be needed to man the shop, but not a permanent takeover. Oops.

MECHOKKU - wait am I allowed to say that this early?

The trio go out on the dock to absorb this information, which mainly consists of Kenta moping while Saki and Mai can’t stop laughing at his misunderstanding.

He does say, though, that this has set him on his path, and tomorrow at school he’ll take his first step toward his dream.

The next day, the two friends are wondering what Kenta’s “first step” could be as they arrive to see a crowd of students around the entrance to the school.

It turns out Kenta is in the middle, recruiting for his new Comedy Club! He makes some absolutely terrible jokes and the episode ends on a still of him laughing.

Obviously, the theme of this episode is pursuing your dreams, no matter what, and hey, even the villain gets in on it!

I can list several reasons that’s not likely to happen

They touch on a point Max Heart once made that you don’t have to know exactly where you want your life to go, just pursue your interests right now. Mai’s brother Kazuya is, as usual, a dispensary of good advice on the subject, and it’s always pleasant to see him. Maybe I’ve just seen too many misunderstanding plots lately, but I really don’t like the fake-out at the end where Kenta’s foks reveal that he misunderstood. At the very least, I wish they’d resolved the misunderstanding earlier, or started it later. Maybe have the episode start with Kenta struggling with comedy and thinking about giving it up, and then in the middle he overhears the conversation about him taking over which gets him in a downer mood. It was just super obvious to me, given his limited understanding of the situation and how vague the conversation he overheard was, that all was not as it seemed, and that undercut my ability to get invested in Kenta’s concerns. Self-doubt is a powerful feeling, and I’m all for it being explored, I just wish it came from a more emotionally resonant source.

This is mainly Kenta’s episode, but Saki has a large role in motivating him, intentionally or unintentionally. The episode opens with her at softball practice, doing catching in the outfield and missing a bunch of balls. The coach tells her to do extra practice after school, which is what she’s doing the following day when Dorodoron attacks. She’s not doing her best, which is why she vows to work hard at her goal of becoming a better softball player. It’s Saki’s drive and commitment that really helps encourage Kenta to talk to his parents and move forward in pursuing his comedic dreams. She also, to a lesser degree, encourages Mai’s artistry. That is Pink Precure Energy. There’s a particular scene that stuck out at me because of the tone and use of music, and that’s Saki’s after-training practice with her coach, catching balls in the outfield. It’s not a long montage, but it is  moving, and punctuated with a lovely song from the soundtrack called “Konjou, Konjou, de Konjou!” or “Spirit, Spirit, Lots of Spirit!” It’s a marching theme with drums and heavy brass and while it’s been used before in the show and will be used again, it stood out to me more in this scene than usual. It’s that perfect blend of visuals and music that just sells how hard Saki is working to improve herself, and in turn motivating Kenta. Give it a watch:

Michiru and Kaoru don’t have a lot to do in this episode, but they are fun when they appear. The shot of them eavesdropping on Saki, Mai, and Kenta’s conversation on the school balcony is visually interesting because of the use of distance. Not only is there a physical wall separating them, but they’re also a good distance down the walkway, which speaks to the amount of separation between them and the heroines, despite their apparent closeness. Also they’re cast in shadow, and I don’t think that’s just because they’re indoors.

Reading even more into it (probably too much, I don’t know how deep the symbolism goes here), the sliver of light on their faces may represent their growing curiosity about the Land of Greenery and its residents and their behaviors, and lack of loyalty to Dark Fall. In other words, it’s a sign of the light within them starting to shine. But again, maybe I’m reading too much into that. It’s fun to speculate though. Normally they would try to hatch a plot to undermine the girls’ dreams or otherwise disrupt their day, but today they stay out of it. Sure, it’s partly because Dorodoron asked them to, but they didn’t show any indication that they were going to launch an attack (or tell him what to do to get to them). Their observations of the humans and their kindness seem to be having an effect.

But also this bit is hilarious, when Saki is like “Don’t you two have dreams?” Michiru is like “not really” but Kaoru says “Yes” and Michiru just looks over at her in confusion, before she starts to say “My dream is to destroy -”

Michiru’s face is priceless and she quickly ushers Koaru away before she can reveal that they’re evil. Somehow Saki didn’t pick up anything.

There’s a few examples of really unique camera angles that I want to showcase real quick, but I don’t have much to say about them.

They all happen back to back and I’m not sure what the intent was except just to avoid the usual shot/reverse shot for this conversation with Kazuya.

Also you may notice that the characters are looking a little sloppy. The art is not up to par this episode, especially in the mid- and wide angles.

I remember reading somewhere that poor quality control on the artwork and a slow plot led to a ratings slump in the show that they never quite recovered from, even when the storyline picked up (around this part really). I’ll look more into that. The art is noticeable but not awful, and of course we’ve seen much worse. So much worse.

Never forget

I think I’ve exhausted everything I wanted to say about this episode. It’s a nice turning point for the show. Next time, Mai and her mother have a heart to heart. Look forward to it!

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 0 Zekkouchou Nari. There was a “Zekkouchou” on its own, by Kenta (as part of a joke) but I’m not counting that.

Miracle Drop Count: 3

[sam-lives-story]

#SamLives - Chapter 9

“Spaceballs and Nightlights”

[Previous|Next]

Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

It was late at night by the time Jack and Mark returned to the Irishman’s apartment, their familiars in tow. Tim had fallen asleep in his carrier on the way home and Sam, while not quite down for the count just yet, was definitely less chatty and less active then he had been earlier. The pair of YouTubers were sitting on Jack’s couch watching a movie.

(Not on cable, and not on Netflix or Hulu either. Mark had helped him disconnect his television from the internet for the time being, but Jack still had a DVD player set up and a decent collection of films to choose from.)

“Spaceballs is a damn classic of a film, and nobody can convince me otherwise,” Mark grinned. His sock-clad feet were kicked up on the coffee table and Tim was dozing in his lap.

Jack snorted, a beer in hand. He brought it to his lips while he watched the characters on screen “comb the desert” for the runaway Princess Vespa and her rescuers. Literal combing, involving giant combs as tall as the troops who were using them.

“Oh, totally,” he agreed readily. “The whole thing is so quotable.”

“Lone Starr!” Mark recited dramatically. “I am your father's brother's nephew's cousin's former roommate!”

“What does that make us?” Jack retorted in continuation of the dialogue.

Then, in unison, both knowing the scene by heart:

“Absolutely nothing!”

They fell into laughter, Jack’s bright and boisterous voice coming out louder than Mark’s deeper giggles. The Irishman ended up coughing a little at the end of it, taking another drink from his bottle to soothe the roughness in his throat.

“Fuckin’ hell it’s been a while since I’ve watched this,” Jack chuckled softly once he’d recovered himself.

His voice was still hoarse from what Anti had done to him during the stream, but it wasn't as bad as it had been that first night. There was an undertone of roughness lacing his words and his breathing sounded more like wheezing if he was really worked up. He could tell it would be a few days before his voice returned to its usual state of full volume and bright energy. Surely his audience wouldn't mind though, Jack mused. A sore throat wasn’t uncommon with how much he used it on a daily basis. Afterall he had done quieter Let’s Plays in the past for the same reason…

Jack’s smile faded. Recording. He hadn't even thought about it since yesterday before the stream. He would need to record something soon, wouldn’t he? Even if it was a “Hey guys! I’m not dead! Don’t freak out!” video, the community deserved some sort of proof, some sort of comfort after the way he had left the stream. Jack tensed and chewed on his bottom lip, brow furrowed and fingers nervously drumming against the neck of his beer bottle.

The thought of going back in that room, back in front of that camera, back in front of his computer where Anti had appeared before–

“Jack? You alright man?”

Mark’s concern was evident without Jack even having to look up from his drink.

“...I need to record more videos.”

The words were quiet, uncertain, as though he wasn’t quite sure if he should say it aloud.

“What, you mean now?” Mark turned in his seat to stare at Jack. His expression was unidentifiable, somewhere between confused and concerned with a hint of bemusement thrown into the mix. Jack only caught a glance of the look on his friend’s face before locking his eyes on his beer again, shaking his head a little.

“Well - no. Not right now. I’m too fuckin’ tired to do anythin’ else today.” He drummed his fingers against the glass bottle in his hands once more, a familiar rhythm that he couldn’t quite identify himself even though he was certain it was one he’d played on the drums before. A soft sigh escaped him.

“Mark, I can’t just cut off contact with my community,” he explained as evenly as he could. “Any other time I’ve had an Anti video go up, I’ve posted a video either later that day or the day after so nobody freaks out. And I know,” he interrupted Mark as he went to open his mouth, “I know this time is different. This time was real. But the community needs to know I’m not–” Jack broke off, unable to finish the sentence the way that he’d been intending to.

Not dead.

“You want them to know you’re okay.” Mark’s tone was one of understanding, if not still a little concerned. Jack nodded. He heard Mark let out a slow breath and heard the clink of glass on wood; Mark had set his drink on the coffee table. The movie continued playing in the background, and for a moment Jack’s focus tuned into the dialogue.

“Yogurt. Yogurt. I hate Yogurt. Even with strawberries…”

Jack snorted out a half-hearted, huffed laugh and reached for the remote, pausing it mid-scene. He tossed it back onto the coffee table with a light clatter of plastic on wood.

“...yeah,” he finally responded, drawing his eyes up to meet his friend���s searching gaze. “Yeah, they need to know I’m alright. I just - hell, I almost want to keep recording some games so people don’t think anything is wrong.”

“Robin’s got a few lined up, you know.”

Jack blinked at that, the comment being so unexpected it threw him for a loop.

“He – wait, what??”

Mark actually looked a little sheepish. He shrugged and smiled and looked away, ruffling his hair a little as he did so.

“I’ve had your phone all day, Seán,” he said in way of explanation. “Robin kept texting asking if you were alright and I figured it’d be alright to respond for you.”

“Th’ hell did you tell him?”

Jack put his own drink aside now, turning sideways on the couch and tucking one leg under him so he could face Mark fully.

“Well he said he saw the stream, so he clearly knows about Anti now!” Mark spluttered. “So I just – don’t give me that look! I didn’t tell him about anything he didn’t already know! I just told him you were alive and pretty shaken up. He asked if you wanted him to upload anything today and - well I probably could’ve asked you, but I told him you were taking a day to recover and that it was up to him for now. He just said he’d keep editing what he had for now and said to get back to him tomorrow.”

Jack stared at Mark in utter disbelief, not saying a word. Mark made a wild gesture with his hands.

“Okay I probably should’ve asked first, yeah! But - look, you’re basically petrified of technology right now, so I didn’t want to make you talk to him yourself today, and I figured - that’s what I would do if I was in your shoes, so–”

“Mark, shut the fuck up.” Jack shook his head. “I could fuckin’ kiss you right now.”

“Please don’t. Septiplier doesn’t need any more fuel for the fire.”

Jack punched the American in the arm.

“I don’t mean literally, asshole,” Jack retorted, and despite his best efforts to stop himself, he ended up smiling like an idiot. “You’re amazing. D’you know that? Thank you. Holy shit.”

“Do I know that I’m amazing?” Mark parroted back, still rubbing at his arm where Jack had ‘punched’ him. “Yes, in fact, I do. And such amazingness is not free, so in exchange for such a service to your life and its improvement, a large donation can be made to–”

Mark was cut off rather abruptly by a pillow to his face, being wielded by a grinning Irishman who felt a lot less stressed now than he had only moments prior.

“Oh, shut up!” he stifled a laugh, then stifled a cough, bringing his sleeve up to cover his mouth. He swallowed thickly and shook his head at Mark’s antics.

“In all seriousness, Seán, it’s nothing,” Mark smiled, clutching the pillow Jack had flung his way. “You’re dealing with some serious shit right now. It’s the least I could do.” He set the pillow aside and carefully scooped Tim up from where he had started to stir in Mark’s lap, his little blue eyes blinking slowly in sleepy confusion. Mark was careful in his movements as he stood and moved his little buddy over to the armchair, where Sam had fallen asleep not too long ago. The minute the tiny box was comfortable his eyes drooped again and he drifted back to sleep.

Jack watched the small pair for a long moment, a soft, adoring smile falling across his features. Sam had never had a friend before. Jack was his closest companion, his family, but...it wasn’t the same. Jack was the equivalent of Sam’s caretaker, his pseudo-dad. The little eyeball didn’t have anybody like him that he could play with or interact with. Nobody existed like him...or so Jack had thought, before Mark had shown up with Tim in tow. Tim was the friend that Sam had needed. Tim was just as unbelievable as Sam, just as lonely, just as adorable and friendly, and it was really no surprise that the two had hit it off from the beginning. Jack only hoped that they could spend as much time together as possible before Mark left for America, whenever that would be.

“...you’re serious about wanting to film something, right?” Mark asked, breaking Jack from his thoughts. The Irishman slowly dragged his gaze away from the pair of familiars to see Mark watching him with that same, indistinct expression from before in his eyes. Concerned, curious, and bemused.

“Totally serious,” Jack agreed. “They deserve something, even if it’s...not the full truth.”

“What, are you gonna tell them it was a prank?” Mark asked incredulously. He sat on the edge of the coffee table and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Are you gonna say the whole Anti thing was just another Ego video, and sorry that you scared everybody?”

“Oh, god no!” Jack’s eyes went wide and he shook his head rapidly. “Fuck, I’m not suicidal. If I outright say that Anti’s not real he’ll fuckin’ murder my ass! No...” He ran both hands through his hair, weaving his fingers together and letting his palms rest at the back of his head. He shook his head again, looking away in thought. “I mean I’m not gonna lie to everybody, but I’m not gonna outright tell the truth either. If I come out and say ‘Guess what, guys? Anti’s real! He totally tried to kill me! Look, here’s the bruises!’ then either some parents are gonna get pissed, or – well, even worse–”

Jack’s expression turned a little strained and he met Mark’s eyes.

“If he’s really powered by belief, then Anti might get even stronger, wouldn’t he?”

“Shit. Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Mark dragged his hand across his mouth, falling into thought himself. The room was quiet for a long moment, and there was a tension there that Jack was fairly certain had never fully left in the first place.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay to do this?” Mark asked him softly. He searched Jack’s expression for something, anything, that would tell him otherwise. “You could barely call your mom today.”

“God, I hope I can,” Jack breathed. “Fuckin’ hell – it’s gonna be harder than that. It’ll be so, so much harder. I’ll be back in the recording room, back in front of the camera, back in front of the computer again. I haven’t been in there since Anti–”

He sucked in a shaking breath all of a sudden, curling in on himself, and Mark instinctively reached out to put a grounding hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“I know.” Mark’s voice was as smooth and calming as ever, the deep tones helping to sooth Jack’s panic before it had even begun to build. “That’s what I mean. I know you need to do this, but I also know it won’t be easy for you. You’re going back into the lion’s den, technically speaking.”

“Tell me about it,” Jack muttered, folding his arms over his chest and curling forward toward his friend. “It’s gonna be a fuckin’ nightmare.”

“...you know what?”

Jack looked up then, seeing a bright expression spreading across Mark’s face. He blinked.

“What?”

“This time is gonna be different.” Mark grinned triumphantly before continuing: “I’m gonna be in the room with you.”

“You...really?” Jack found himself smiling softly too, a brilliant hope blooming in his chest. “You’d do that?”

“Hell yeah!” Mark nodded. “It’s not like it’s some major inconvenience or something, Jack, I’m literally gonna be sitting in the same room as you. That’s about it. But it’ll be you, and me, and Sam and Tim. All four of us. And I don’t know about you, but I can count, and I’m pretty sure we outnumber him.”

“Who would win?” Jack quipped, his own attitude brightening with how infectious Mark’s enthusiasm was. “Four giggly boys or one glitchy bitch?”

“Four tough gigglers, that’s who!”

“Pfft, oh fuck off!” Jack chuckled. “Alright. Alright, fine, that doesn’t sound too bad.”

There was a moment’s pause, and then:

“Thanks Markimoo.”

“No problem Jackaboy.”

Sleeping arrangements hadn’t really been thought out at all, not until both Jack and Mark decided they needed to get to bed. While it was true that there was a guest room - a really simple spare room with a full size bed, nothing too fancy - Jack found himself reluctant to stay in any room alone for very long. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, but he was more than grateful when Mark was the one to offer that they bunk together in Jack’s room. Two pillows, one air mattress, and a heaping pile of blankets later, and Mark had managed to construct himself a sleeping spot on the floor. The American had dubbed his creation “surprisingly cozy”, though Jack found himself offering to take the floor so his friend and guest was more comfortable.

Mark, of course, declined vehemently.

The bedroom door was kept firmly shut and a nightlight was plugged in across the room. With the security of a closed door and a dim bulb, it didn’t take very long for both boys to find sleep alongside their familiars. For a few hours, everything was peaceful.

The arrangements seemed well and all, at least in theory. Jack wasn’t alone and Mark was comfortable enough. But at some point in the middle of the night Mark woke up to a voice in his head and movement across the room.

“Mark!”

The American blinked sleep out of his eyes and crunched up his face in confusion, rolling over to face the bed.

“Sam…?” he mumbled, sitting up groggily. He dragged a hand through his hair with a yawn and ruffled the “floof” a little. Brown eyes blinked slowly, sleepily, still trying to regain full functionality in Mark’s barely-awake state. He squinted across the room to try and make out Jack’s blurry form without his glasses on.

“...n-no...ngh…”

Quiet, distressed sounds from Jack’s side of the room brought Mark to full attentiveness quickly. His breath hitched.

“Jack?” he spoke up again, louder and more assertive this time. “What’s up, man?”

Jack didn’t appear to have heard him, still shifting beneath his covers and making strained noises of discomfort. Mark could hear the Irishman’s breathing quickening and increasing in intensity, wheezing breaths leaving him as he tossed and turned in bed.

“Mark you gotta help! I can’t wake him up!”

A small green blob was shaking in the corner of Mark’s vision, the little eyeball sitting on top of the nightstand beside Jack’s bed. But Mark didn’t even need to hear Sam’s pleading to know Jack needed his help.

Mark kicked off his blankets and stumbled to his feet, one hand groping for his glasses on the dresser as he went. He shoved the frames onto his face and Jack finally came into focus. The other YouTuber was pale - paler than usual, that is - and he was drenched in a cold sweat. He’d managed to simultaneously free himself from the majority of his sheets while also getting himself hopelessly tangled in them. Dark brown hair clung to his forehead and one of his hands - the one that wasn’t tugging desperately at his bedding - was at his own throat, grasping and clawing at something that wasn’t there.

“No...nonono...s-stop it stop it stop it–”

“Jack!” Mark clambered onto the mattress and reached out for Jack’s wrist, slowly prying his hand away from his already-damaged neck. “Jack, c’mon man, it’s just a nightmare. Snap out of it.”

He gripped Jack’s shoulder with his free hand to shake him awake, and the reaction was instantaneous.

“N-No! Get OFF! GET AWAY!”

Jack struggled vehemently against the weak grip Mark had on him, his hand - the one Mark was still gripping the wrist of - curling into a tight fist. He tried, rather frantically, to yank himself free.

Mark winced. A minute feeling of guilt found its way into the back of his mind, an ounce of regret at having to restrain his friend like this when he was clearly terrified of something only he could see, but he knew that if he didn’t then Jack may very well hurt himself in his panic. So instead of letting go and giving in, Mark held Jack’s clawing hand further out of reach before drawing his other hand back.

“Sorry ‘bout this, Jack,” he muttered, more to himself than anybody else, then slapped the Irishman clean across the face.

Jack jolted awake, his eyes flying wide in shock, and he sat up so fast that Mark had to dodge out of the way to avoid a head-on collision. Jack was still breathing harshly and a high-strung panic was evident in his eyes and his frantic movements, in the way he immediately started scrambling back away from Mark until his back was pressed flat against the headboard of the bed. All the while he continued to try and tug his arm free from Mark’s loose grip.

“Stop it...s-stop...lemme go–”

“Seán.” Mark kept his voice level and his eyes locked on his panicking friend. “It’s me. It’s Mark.”

Finally, recognition seemed to dawn in Jack’s eyes...and he slowly stopped struggling. Blue eyes blinked sluggishly and stared through the near-darkness in strained confusion.

“...Mark?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s me.” Mark let out a soft breath of relief. At long last, he let Jack’s wrist go and dropped into a more comfortable position next to his friend. “Shit, you scared me. Are you alright?”

Jack swallowed thickly and looked around at the barely lit bedroom, brow furrowed. He was still tense and his breathing was still quicker than average, but even that seemed to be settling the longer they sat there.

“I...y-yeah. Holy shit…”

As though finally realizing that it was just them in the room, that he wasn’t in any real danger, Jack deflated against the headboard with a low, shaking breath. He scrubbed both hands over his face and let out a muffled groan.

“Fuck Anti.” The words were muted beneath his palms but the frustrated undertone to the words was evident. “Fuck Anti, and fuck me for fuckin’ putting him in my videos…”

“Must’ve been a pretty bad nightmare,” Mark murmured. He continued to watch his friend with a worried expression, his gaze falling on Jack’s neck. The bruises were still there, the skin now a dark purple-and-black pattern that Mark could clearly see was in the shape of a hand and fingers. New, red lines had appeared there too though, long scratches that didn’t even break the skin, the result of Jack clawing at his own neck in his nightmare-induced panic.

Mark found it a little hard to swallow as he dragged his eyes away from the spot.

“You don’t even want to know,” Jack grumbled.

“I might.”

Jack let his hands drop into his lap and leveled Mark with an incredulous look.

“D’you really?” he asked.

“Well–” Mark shrugged, the action a little lopsided. “–not so much that I wanna know the dirty details, but more like...if you need to talk about it, I’m willing to listen.”

A small, huffed breath left Jack - the equivalent of a humorless laugh - and he shook his head.

“Nah. ‘S nothing new.” It was his turn to shrug, wrapping his arms around himself as he did so. “Just reliving a memory.”

Ah. The stream. Not wanting to press any further, Mark just nodded in understanding.

It had been over twenty-four hours since the livestream had happened, along with whatever kind of hell Jack had been put through by his digital demon of a doppelganger. Over twenty-four hours...but not much longer than that. Mark had watched his best friend break down into a panic no less than three times since arriving here in Brighton, and he was sure there had been moments he hadn’t seen, instances both before and during his stay that Jack wouldn’t ever bring up to him. Jack was strong, stronger - Mark thought - than he gave himself credit for. He himself would be just as affected if their situations were flipped. The fact that Jack was also so concerned for his community, so caring of them that he wanted to combat his own present fears to make sure they knew everything was alright? It spoke volumes about the kind of person he was.

“Well if you need to talk about it,” Mark offered softly, “you know I’m here. I may not be a therapist but I’ve got shoulders and I’ve got hands and I’ve got arms, so that’s pretty useful.”

“...what?”

Jack’s confusion took the place of some of the strain that had been in his eyes a moment before, and Mark gave himself a mental pat on the back. He fought to keep a straight face and pulled on a slightly dramatic version of his “serious” voice.

“If you need arms to hug you, or a hand to hold, or a shoulder to cry on, I have all three. So that’s pretty damn impressive for one guy to have–”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Mark…”

“What? It is pretty impressive. There are some guys who don’t have hands, or don’t have arms, or don’t even have shoulders, so the fact that I still have all three–”

“Shut up!” Jack chuckled softly and buried his face in his hands again, his shoulders shaking for a much more positive reason than they had been before. “Fuckin’ hell, how does Amy live with you?”

“She lives a very giggly and happy life, that’s how,” Mark grinned, feeling accomplished now that it was clear he’d managed to brighten Jack’s mood.

“Well she’s dating a giggly bitch.” Jack’s grin was an exhausted one, but no less happy. “Giggly is in the couple’s prerequisites with you.”

“That’s probably true. I never checked the fine print before making her sign the Markiplier Dating Contract though.”

“I don’t think I want to know what else might be in that contract.”

“Eh, nothing too harmful. Probably. Might involve whips and chains.”

“You dirty bastard,” Jack shook his head with a tired smirk.

Mark winked and grinned cheekily at his, now much calmer, friend, then glanced over at his makeshift sleeping space on the floor. He sighed, scratched at the scruff along his jaw, and shifted so one of his legs was hanging off the bed.

“Are you alright to get back to sleep?” he asked with a warm smile. He eyed the way Jack was still positioned, having cornered himself against the headboard and curled up there as if to protect himself. He had yet to move from that spot. “No offense, but I think you need the rest.”

“I–”

The Irishman tensed up a little at the prospect. He ducked to avoid Mark’s searching eyes and chewed at his bottom lip.

“...I dunno. I don’t really fancy havin’ another nightmare like that again, stupid as it sounds.”

“That doesn’t sound stupid at all.”

Mark said it with such sincerity that Jack found himself looking up again, both pairs of exhausted eyes locking in the near-darkness. Not for the first time, Jack found himself feeling evermore grateful to have Mark here, to have a friend like him that he could rely on, especially right now. His best friend.

“Do you want me to sleep up here, in the bed with you?” Mark offered. At Jack’s silence, he went on with a smirk: “I mean, not to brag, but I’m a damn good cuddler. You can ask Amy and Chica. And Ethan. And probably Tyler, he’d agree with me too–”

“I’d like that, actually.”

Jack’s admission was quiet and a little embarrassed, but he smiled anyway and he finally stretched his legs out from where they had been tucked close to his chest since he’d woken up. He started to straighten out the tangled mass of sheets and blankets and scooted down the bed.

“Sorry if it’s weird,” Jack mumbled. “But it might help. With stopping another nightmare, I mean.”

“Hey, I offered!” Mark pointed a finger in Jack’s face, and the other YouTuber blinked and stared at the finger, then at Mark with an amused expression on his face. “It’s not weird. And even if it was, I’d be the one making it weird since I started it. So shut up and get comfy because I’m tired and we have recording to do tomorrow. Got it?”

“Heh, yeah,” Jack chuckled, slipping back under the covers and forcing himself to relax. “Got it.”

“Good.”

Mark tugged his glasses off and dropped them on the nightstand, then he burrowed into the blankets and scooted closer to Jack’s side of the bed. For a few precious moments, the room was quiet, the only sound being the steady breathing of the two human occupants in the room and the slight rustling of fabric as Sam snuggled into the bedding Mark had left on the floor with Tim. Mark’s eyes had drifted shut and he was beginning to let sleep’s haze pull him back under its spell...then Jack spoke up again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Thanks, Mark.” He was quiet again for a few seconds before he continued, eyes still lingering on the blank ceiling above him. “I dunno how I would’ve made it through today if I didn’t have somebody here with me. An’ you’ve been a godsend, honestly. I can’t imagine anyone else who could’ve helped me through this as well as you’ve been doin’ so far.”

“Not even Robin?” Mark mumbled. He opened one eye to watch Jack’s profile.

“...well…” Jack sighed and turned onto his side to face his friend. “...nothin’ against Robin, but he’d be out o’ his depth wit’ all this. Ya know? He’s great, an’ a good friend, an’ he’d be supportive to all hell an’ gone if – well, if he knew…” Jack sighed a little at his own words, brow furrowing the slightest bit. “...but I don’t t’ink he’d be able to help me get my mind straight ‘bout all o’ this shite.” His accent was thick with sleep, his words coming out slightly harder to decipher. “It’s different wit’ you, though. You’ve got Egos an’ such o’ yer own an’ you know what I’m dealin’ wit’. Not quite to th’ same extreme, but...well...Dark.”

Jack shrugged. The name itself was enough for Mark to understand, and he nodded subtly.

“So...yeah. You get it. An’ – hell – I’d know fuck-all ‘bout the “why” behind all o’ this if you hadn’t’ve had a t’eory ‘bout it ‘forehand. It really helps ta understand it all. Yeah?”

“Yeah...it does.”

“I guess - jus’ - shite, thank you. T’ank ye, so damn much. You didn’t have ta come out here, an’ you didn’t have ta deal wit’ my pile of nonsense, but you did an’...and it means a hell of a lot.”

Jack blinked rapidly, a shine appearing in his eyes that Mark could tell he was trying to hide. The American chuckled - a low, deep, gentle and familiar sound - and he reached out to draw his smaller friend against his chest in a one-armed hug. He pretended not to notice the damp patches Jack’s silent, grateful tears were leaving on his shirt.

“You don’t have to thank me for that, Seán,” Mark grinned through the darkness. “It’s what best friends are for.”

[A/N] Here you go! It’s been a long time coming, but here’s the next installment of the #SamLives series! (If you can’t tell I adore stories that have “FRIENDSHIP IS AMAZING AND POWERFUL AND SHOULD NEVER BE UNDERESTIMATED” as a key part of the plot, so...yup. Keep that in mind. It’s big here.) Anti hasn’t shown his face in a few chapters, and that’s intentional. For one thing, this is literally the night after the stream, so even though it’s three chapters later not much time has passed. But beyond that...Anti’s not an idiot. He likes to mess with Jack and he can’t resist playing with the poor boy’s head, but he’s clever enough to know that there are more players on the board now...and that he has to factor that into whatever plan he might have.

I’ve gotten quite a few ideas from people’s responses to this...so any new plot twists in the future? You can blame those on the other readers :3c

Thanks for reading! <3

Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

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[samwrights]

Homesick // Pt 7

Summary: Tony and Pepper’s daughter Madelyn just graduated from Midtown School of Science and Technology. Without her parents knowledge, she managed to land an internship with her dad’s business to keep her busy over the summer and to prepare her for what she wants to do with her future. But she isn’t the only one with a Stark Enterprises internship—and now she’s stuck working with some overly excited ongoing sophomore named Peter Parker.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Pairing: Stark!Daughter x Peter (OC) Words: 3,518 Loop: Drugs // EDEN You’re So Last Summer // Taking Back Sunday

I got way too many routes to take to make this all just go away. VII.

It was the third week of June. Elly had finally completed the Spider-Suit and, after some fine tuning tweaks from her father, it was finally packed away for Peter to use. Her dad and him had flown off to Germany for some big Avengers mission involving the Sokovia Accords. In his absence, he had been video calling Elly and keeping a small video diary as much as he could. Currently, Happy Hogan was rushing him into his hotel room while telling him to suit up. The very disgruntled Happy brought Peter to the common space of his hotel room upon seeing him in his ragtag hoodie and tights, revealing a large metal suitcase. He gave the young Spider-Man two minutes to get changed into his long awaited suit. Atop the silver suitcase was a small, handwritten note that read, “A minor upgrade for you, babe” with MJS signed in beautiful calligraphy. In his mind, he could hear her sarcastic tone and all he wanted in this moment was to call her and show her what the suit looked like on. However, he was once again being ushered by Happy and he never got the chance.

Elly was currently sitting at home trying her best to be productive, but she was just so bored. With her dad being gone, she was technically free from work. She answered office phone calls, despite not having to, and nearly all of those calls ended up in her taking a message since she was unsure of her when her father would return. She cleaned the fourth and fifth floors that belonged to the Stark family time and time again. Elly had drawn up more upgrades for Iron Man and Spider-Man and even humored herself in making her own rendition of an Iron Man suit for herself that she had wanted to show to her dad and boyfriend. But aside from that, she felt she was lacking inspiration and creativity. She was bored and she was missing Peter.

Their days were full of such laughter that lifted up Elly’s spirits that felt she had felt as if something were missing while he was gone. Every morning, she would pick him up to start their work day. They would spend their lunch together, talking about the progress and processes of their internship. Their nights were spent playing video games or watching movies together in the Stark family home theater. Every day seemed to start and end with Peter, and not knowing when he was going to be back was killing her. Since his departure, Elly often found herself curled up on the couch alone watching TV or a variety of YouTube videos serving as background noise as she sipped on tea with her leather bound sketchbook in her lap while she continued designs for her own suit. Tonight was one of those nights. Her eyes were dancing with fatigue as they fought to focus on the current episode of Stranger Things that she was attempting to watch. Sleep seemed to be winning until her phone started blaring the last verse of Taking Back Sunday’s “You’re So Last Summer”, signifying Peter was finally able to call. As soon as she answered, he was babbling away in excitement.

“Elly! Elly, oh my god the most amazing thing happened to me. So your dad was all like ‘Hey, underoos!’ and I just kind of flipped in and was like ‘sup everybody’ and I stole Captain America’s shield and—hey just a second! Coming!” Peter literally had not taken a breath since Elly picked up the video chat, and she wondered how on earth he could talk so fast, let alone do a back flip off of his bed while he was laying on his stomach. Elly was able to see Happy enter his room in a robe, gripe about the thin walls before disappearing from her view again. Peter rushed back to his phone, his vibrant smile still glued to his face. “Anyway, thank you so much for the suit Elly, it’s awesome. I would have called you sooner but I didn’t get a chance to.” She chuckled softly at his uncontainable elation.

“It’s fine, Peter. So you stole uncle Steve’s shield. What else happened today?” He began giving Elly a run down of everything she had missed. She tried her best to picture everyone that was there, though a couple of descriptions sounded unfamiliar. She gather her uncle Clint was also a part of the battle, which made her just a little melancholy. She hadn’t seen him or his family in a while, and now she was questioning when the next time would even be. When Peter got to the part in the story where he tangled some giant guy’s legs like in Empire Strikes Back, Elly was shaking with laughter.

“That’s pretty funny. I can’t wait to see all of the videos you took in Germany.”

“I can’t wait until we go home. I miss you.” The vivacious conversation had died down with those words—reality setting in and bringing them the realization that this is the longest they had been apart.

“I miss you too. Any idea when you and dad are going to be back?”

“I-I’m not sure yet. I’d talk to him but he’s been pretty tense since Captain America got away.” A soft, disappointed sigh left Elly’s lips.

“I don’t doubt that. I wish I was with you guys instead. I’m so freakin’ bored.” Elly had picked up the art of diversion from her father, learning to immediately change the subject to something inclusive instead of sad.

“Germany would have been awesome to see with you.”

“We’ll go, one day.” Another thing she had learned from her dad—explore the world as often as possible. Though this exact scenario wasn’t quite what he meant, she had only learned through observation. Any time Tony was out somewhere without Pepper, he always promised to take her back there. They talked some more, mostly one what Elly had been doing while the men in her life were away, which felt like a whole lot of nothing. “I’m gonna go to bed, babe. I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

“Aw, okay. I miss you, and I’ll see you soon, okay love? Good night.”

“Night, Peter.” Elly ended the call, hoping the video screen cut off before he could see her rising blush. Him calling her love as he had been the past week made her heart swell and burst. Deciding to crash on the couch, like she had been doing since the Towers been empty, she closed her eyes once again.

Elly awoke the next morning with a crick in her neck, most likely from sleeping on the couch. First thing she did was check her phone; Peter had sent her nearly a dozen photos of him running around Germany with her dad, each photo bringing a smile to her lips. She started her day as normal—eating breakfast, getting a good work out in the training room, and headed up to the lab to work on her private project. The miniature suit Elly had created for herself was over halfway completed. All that was left was the chest plate and helmet, with the latter being the most time consuming piece she was going to need. “I’m home, honey!” Elly hadn’t realized the elevator doors opened until she saw Tony walking towards her. The first thing she noticed was the scrapes and bruises all over her dad. “What’s wrong?” He asked very carefully, taking note of the perplexed look on his daughter’s face.

“D-dad? W-what happened to you?” Tony became very quiet, his lips pursed as if he were in pain.

“Rogers happened. I told him I was trying to keep us all together, he chose his friend. He didn’t choose us, he didn’t choose you like we chose him. I’m sorry, honey.” Elly nodded in understanding before wrapping her arms around her dad’s torso, a singular tear streaming down her face at the harsh truth. She understood how much this hurt him, as well as her.

“You’ve got me and mom, dad.” She mumbled into his chest.

“Nah, I got you kiddo.” Tony hugged his daughter back as tight as he possibly could. They stood in their embrace in the absence of sound until he pulled away, looking at Elly’s workspace. “So I see you started a project. What on earth have you been doing?” There was her dad’s master deflection skills shining through. He picked up her leather bound sketchbook that Peter had given her what felt like ages ago. His eyes landed on the junior Iron Man designs. “What, you want to be just like dad?” Tony joked.

“Pshh, I would be way cooler than Iron Man.” Elly had walked up beside him, proudly showing the sketches she had worked on. Tony tapped his fingers on his chin.

“I don’t know, Iron Girl or Iron Lady would never sound right.” He teased.

“I mean, mom was named Rescue and I loved that.” The slightest frown touched her dad’s lips. It became obvious then that Elly was missing her mom, causing Tony’s guilt to resurface.

“Peacekeeper.” Was all Tony said. Elly raised her eyebrows at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain further. “You always kept the peace between me and your mother, a-and it’s my fault she’s not here.” Silence blanketed over them. Elly had never seen her dad in such a vulnerable state, and she almost felt the need to coddle him.

“Dad…where is she?” Elly inquired quietly.

“We’re on a break.” Tony replied earnestly after a brief pause. “She asked me to stop being Iron Man; that I need to be here more for you and her. But I don’t want to stop—I can’t stop trying to protect you two.” His head hung ever so slightly in shame at the admission.

“I get it, pops. Mom will come around, I promise.”

“Yeah? Can you guarantee that?”

“Yeah, knowing mom? I definitely can.”

Later that night, Tony and Elly had a peaceful, intimate dinner. As much as Elly wanted to go see Peter, she knew her dad needed her company now more than ever. She needed it too. The father and daughter shared many laughs, ending their night playing on their virtual reality gaming consoles in their living room and forgetting the pain they were sharing. After the system was turned off, they sat without speaking to each other and allowed tension to fill the room. “Can I ask you something?” Asked Elly. Her voice was calm and confident despite the nerves that filled her stomach.

“Of course, honey. What’s up?” Tony felt anxious too. He loved spending time with his daughter, but the way she spoke was a very avid reminder of her mother. Pepper always sounded threatening when she opened conversation with such a vague question.

“Let’s have honesty hour.” She declared. “You said you and mom were on a break. I-is it in any way my fault?” The question left Tony stunned.

“Of course not, Elly. It’s mine and I know it is. Your mother and I are working on our own problems, or rather my problems. She just wants us to be a normal family.” He was rambling, unsure of how to speak his truth.

“What do you want?” She asked.

“I want it too. That’s why we were a family up until now.”

“We are a family, dad. We’re just in a rough patch.”

“That’s…that’s not how your mom feels right now. She thinks I can’t be dad and Iron Man too.”

“You’ve been doing it for the last eight years, and we’ve been fine.”

“Tell your mom that.” He muttered, feeling defeated. How his seventeen year-old daughter was giving him such a mature, stern talking to was beyond him. “But enough about that, it’s my turn to parent you. How are you and Parker?”

“We’re really good, actually. He thanked me for the suit; he called every night that he could while you guys were in Germany.”

“I had a talk with him on the way back home.” Elly looked at him, slightly mortified. “Nothing bad, honey. You seem…happier since you two started dating. I told him not to blow it—I don’t know what I would do if your heart got broken again.” Too late for that, Elly thought to herself. She stayed quiet, thinking of how Peter and her dad were the only salvation she had in her current state. She was still hurting from the absence of her mom and late best friend, learning that her pseudo-family was falling apart, and the newly revealed information of her godfather and dad’s best friend Rhodey being paralyzed from the waist down. Over the course of dinner, Tony had told her of Colonel Rhodes’ injuries, and that was her breaking point. It felt as if her world was crumbling very slowly.

“I-I’m trying really hard, dad. To not be upset over everything that’s going on but, I-I miss mom and I feel like she’s not here because of me. And Uncle Steve…he’s like family, or was. We all considered him to be family, and he chose Bucky over us. And Uncle Rhodey’s crippled because of it. It’s so much.” Elly was doing her best to hold back sobs, the words falling from her tongue allowed her to acknowledge the situation as reality. As much as it hurt, she needed to prove she was strong to her father.

“I know, kid, life kind of sucks right now. But you will always have me and your mom to turn to, even if she isn’t here. She also didn’t leave because of you,” Tony reiterated, choosing his next words carefully. “If anything, she left for you, if that makes sense.”

“Not at all.” Elly gave an awkward chuckle to emphasize her confusion.

“Your mom doesn’t want you to see her in a vulnerable state right now. Even though she’s one of the strongest women I know, I mean she deals with me, after all.” The Starks shared boisterous laughter, knowing that Tony spoke only the truth.

“Dad…do you love mom?” Elly knew she was treading into murky waters, but by declaration of honest hour, she hoped her dad would answer.

“Hell yeah I do.” He responded without a moments hesitation.

“So how come you two never got married?”

“It just never seemed like the right time. I was planning on proposing when Rhodey and I got back from Washington that one year, and it almost felt…wrong. I wanted to make sure that you two were safe before officially announcing that the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist Tony Stark was married.”

“And you just kept waiting for the right moment…” Elly figured. Tony nodded in agreement, pursing his lips in discomfort. It felt strange, talking to his seventeen year-old daughter about his feelings. It also made him feel lighter. “The right moment never comes, dad. You have to make it the right moment.”

“Gross, when did you get wise? How many romantic novels have you been reading?” He joked.

“You and your stupid deflections, pops!” Tony just laughed before patting his child on her shoulder. As the laughter died down, he took a turn to look at Elly fully. There was no more lighthearted laughter on his face.

“So now let me ask you, do you love Parker?” Unintentionally, her eyes widened and her jaw slackened, trying to put up some form of protest. Words never came out and it was then Tony had his answer. He wanted her to say it—to fully admit to someone else than just herself to prove a point.

“I-I do.” She whispered.

“I know you do. But it doesn’t become real until you say it out loud. Just like how I love your mom.” He repeated, furthering driving his point home. A barely noticeable smirk twitched on his lips, satisfied with his parenting done for the day. “Let’s get some sleep, kiddo. I gotta go check on Rhodey tomorrow, but sometime this week, let’s work on your suit?”

“Sounds good. Good night, I love you. And tell Uncle Rhodey I say hi.”

“Night, honey. Love you too.”

Tony was gone the next morning, probably off to see Rhodey. That meant she had the day off again, but the time she spent with her dad inspired her to be productive. She didn’t have much left to do on her suit and she wanted to finish as much as she could so they could test it out together. After making herself her morning iced coffee, she headed up to the empty lab. Elly got to work with renewed vigor, finishing her chest plate in under an hour. “Ms. Stark, incoming call from Spider-Boy.” A.A.R.O.N announced.

“Put it throught.” Peter’s face popped up on her lab screen, bright sunlight illuminating his features while her hands were still keeping busy.

“Hey, Elly! I had May drop me off today. Are you up in the lab?” From what she could tell, he was walking into the tower, his backpack slung over his shoulders as always.

“Yeah, I’m up here. But you know there’s no internship today, right? It’s just me here.”

“Oh, y-yeah. I know, I figured that was okay but I guess I should have asked you if I could come over first.” Peter stopped in his tracks as he entered the lobby of the compound, the excitement he once had diminishing. Elly could see his crestfallen features, immediately filling her with guilt.

“N-no, that’s not what I meant! I-I just didn’t want you to expect to have training with Nat or something. But come on up, I have a surprise for you.” The line went dead, leaving Peter to his solidarity as he made his way up to the lab. He’d come to know that surprises from Elly were typically a good thing, and anxiety no longer came to him when she said she had one for him. When he exited the elevator, he was presented with an Iron Man suit that was dark blue and gold.

“W-what is this?” Peter asked with half a laugh in amazement.

“A little project I’ve been working on while you’ve been away. What do you think?” Elly walked towards him, the clinking of her jet boots resonating in the empty lab. The incomplete helmet covering her head retracted, and Peter was finally presented with the face of the girl he had been missing.

“That is amazing!” He exclaimed as Elly grabbed her wrist to retract her suit. His arms wrapped around his girlfriend who was left in only a long tank top that covered the shorts she was wearing underneath. “I missed you so much.” Said Peter before pressing a warm kiss to her forehead.

“I missed you too. Now you have got to show me the video diary from your trip!” The two laughed, each taking a seat at her workspace and began watching his little home movie on her mini projector screen. They spent the rest of the day together; Peter helped her engineer the rest of her helmet, grabbed a bunch of snacks throughout their time together and filled their night with love and laughter. Day eventually gave way to night and the two ended their evening sitting on the roof of the Tower, looking at the twinkling lights of the city. “Peter? Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, of course, Elly.” He said with confidence. Similar to her saying she had a surprise, her saying she had a question to start a conversation no longer filled his gut with anxiety.

“What are we going to do when I start college?”

“W-what do you mean?” He had spoken too soon. While he knew this talk was bound to happen, he hadn’t expected it to be so soon. They’d been together for less than a month and he’d just gotten back from Germany—he thought he had at least until the end of the summer.

“I mean, you’re sixteen and going to be a sophomore in high school and I’m going to be eighteen in less than two months and a freshman in college. A-and I wouldn’t ever want to keep our relationship a secret because that’s not fair to you but if someone were to find out that Tony Stark’s daughter was dating someone that wasn’t the legal age of consent, who knows what could happen and—“ Somewhere in the last couple of months they had spent together, Elly had adopted Peter’s habit for rambling when nervous, as she was doing now. But he cut her off, instantly recognizing what she was doing.

“Let’s just…cross that bridge when we get there? I don’t want to think about that right now.” Elly closed her mouth tightly, but ultimately agreed in the form of a nod. He was right; they still had time and they should enjoy it. Little did she know, the inevitable end never left Peter’s mind.

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[words-are-like-colors]

64 Sensory Prompts -- Answered

Inspired by 64 Sensory Prompts  (___) is inspired by ** personal  __ original works 

1) Watching a meteor shower: (Bakugo Katsuki) Eyes sparkling, he stared up at the sky in awe. It looked dangerous, heated, and violent, yet beautiful. The majority of the rocks explode in the air like fireworks, but with reds and oranges instead of blues and greens. Bigger rocks plugged down but either exploded or disappeared from sight as they hurtled towards the ground. He was staring in astonishment as his friend walked over and clapped his hand on his shoulder, saying that he had never seen this look of amplitude on his face before. It was all fascinating, these rocks from space, outer-fucking-space, were coming down to their planet out of all of the infinite other places they could go. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity and he will never forget it. 2) Digging your fingers into the fresh dirt: (Sawamura Eijun)  You are digging with a shovel, pulling the dirt from the ground in weak pulls. Your mother gives you a patient smile, telling you that it takes a bit of effort but its worth it in the end. Some time passes and you get impatient; the shovel is too hard to use and your arms are getting sore. So, as any little child would do, you get on your hands and knees and start to scoop the dirt from the hole like a dog. Hands pass over each other in vigorous motions as you try to open the hole up more. Your mother notices this after a moment and pulls you back with a sigh. There is not much to punish on, your hands are covered with dirt, which would happen anyways, and the hole was dug well so she waved it off. Within the next month, the most beautiful flowers bloom from the hole that was made.

3) Snow being shoved down the back of your coat: (Yuuri and Phichit) Screaming and flailing he goes as his best friend cackles in the background. The pair were having a peaceful walk in the park when the friend suddenly yanks down his hoodie just to shove snow down his back. His back is prickling with cold-wet sensations as the snow instantly started to melt and roll down his back, leaving a trail of wet skin and clothes. Out of slight anger, he whips around with snow he snatched up from the ground and chucked it at his friend, not even caring to make a snowball out of it. His friend continues to laugh and laugh, only shutting up when snow is shoved down his jacket as well.

5) Trying to walk on ice:** The schoolyard was covered in ice. I watched as people slipped and slid over the icy snow as they had the time of their lives, laughing and bring the cold air joy. My friend that I had been making snow forts with the days prior was absent, sick probably, so I had to find a new thing to do. I glance over to the side to see a few more friends sliding down a mini snow slide onto the ice-covered pavement. I don't remember why I had it but I was clutching a small orange cat stuffie to my chest as I started to walk over. The pavement between the makeshift slide and myself was covered in a thin layer of ice. One step, two, three step, four, five step, PHEMP; I fell and landed on my butt. This isn't as much as a surprise as it was a regular act, seeing that the winters here are cold. Later that day, after lunch and recess, I notice that my cat stuffie's paw had been ripped upon impact.

6) Walking through the woods: (Kiribaku) Walking through the forest gives a place to clear your head, so that is just what he is doing. Within him was so much built up anger that he needed somewhere remote just to scream and explode, both in the literal and metaphorical sense. Sometimes he does not even end up blowing up before he goes home, he just finds a cliff to sit to gaze out over the mountain on. Here in the forest, there is nothing except vibrant leaves and silent animals. The first time he told his friend about where he goes more weekends, he received a look of shock until he stiffly explained that sometimes he just needs space from the overwhelming world and that being out on the cliff helps give him perceptive of the world. 

Today, he had brought that very friend. No one, not even his family was invited to see his escape but with this friend, he felt the same around him as he felt when wandering the forest. This friend lets him clear his head and has his body relax until he feels like venerable jelly. He will never regret bringing him with. 8) The way cold glass fogs when you press your hand against it:** It reminds me of my childhood. Sitting on the bus on the way to school. Pulling gloves off to press a warm hand against the cold glass, ignoring the sharp pricks for the cool sensation. The bus is cold but I am warm, the fog around my hand speaks that as I withdraw. Seeing this reminds me of Harry Potter when Ron has his hand on the train window when the dementor floats in with its demonic aura. Sometimes looking out the chilly bus window lets my thoughts wander into this area of mystery. As a child, just this creation of fog seems like a mystery in itself, and it still seems this way when you grow up when you learn why this is happening but still the mystery remains in what else this reaction can procure. 11) Blood at the corner of your mouth:**  Most would see this prompt and think of fighting but honestly, to me its the most mundane thing in the world: a split lip caused by picking. Fingers work at the split, picking and pulling until the skin is removed, little by little until it bleeds and you are satisfied. This is no self-harm, that should be said upfront, just a thing that happens when your mind wanders and your hands finds something to do without your promoting. When you finally bleed, your tongue instantly jumps to it, tasting the foreign substance and labeling the copper taste as blood. Your mom may tell you to stop it since it could get worse and rip more, but your hands ignore this and you go back to this when in thought. Soon enough you find it painful and you stop, but you should have stopped when your mother warned. There's a constant strain on the corner of your lips as it attempts to heal. Talking and laughing and especially yawning is bothersome; every time you perform this action it pulls at the spot until it opens back up and your tongue instantly jumps back to it. One day, you forget you even had the cut in the first place and you move on, sometimes your hands going back to that place or wander on to pick at something different. 12) Cloying sweetness on the back of your tongue:** "Cake, everyone loves cake!" is from a line of a famous movie but you sometimes beg to differ. The cake from your grandma's favorite bakery is sicking sweet and you can't help but grimace at the first bite. It would be rude to say no to the cake, but it was absolutely atrocious and you cannot bear to eat anymore. You flash your mom a guilty look and she understands instantly, since she is probably thinking the same exact thing., so she takes your remaining cake. Your grandmother doesn't seem to notice or care so you get up from the table to fill your glass up to rid of the taste. It is only hours later that you finally forget the taste and move on with your day. 15) The taste of salt on the tip of your tongue:** He seemed to be suffocating. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he gasped for breath. The original reason for crying was too far gone as his mind kept supplying him with more and more evidence on why he was unworthy. He doesn’t remember licking the tears off of his lips but suddenly he tasted salt and somehow that made him cry harder. Everything seemed to be crashing down upon his shoulders as he internally screamed for release. Even crying seemed like a reason to cry more. Crying is something toddlers do right? Shouldn’t he be looked at like a toddler then? A crying, annoying, insolent little toddler who can’t do nothing for himself, it seems. He goes asleep that night with salt on his lips and thoughts of pain 19) Satin in candlelight: (Akafuri) He woke up in the dead of night. Shadows were dancing across his walls, the trees outside his window causing the shadows to look like long grasping fingers, inching closer and closer to grab the man in the bed. But, he did not react to the shadows. He watched them for a minute, wondering if this could be some sign or just boring reality. Of course, it ended up being boring reality so he got up from his bed. Despite its thin apprentice, the black satin robe gave him some warmth as he dawned it. ‘People are much more interesting than shadows’ he thought as he lit the candle that sat upon his nightstand. His secret lover was sleeping a few floors below and seeing that he was a person and his lover, he decided to go pay him a visit. The floors and stairs creaked as he stepped upon them but he paid no mind to it if anyone was awake other than him at this hour would be a miracle. As he approaches his lover’s room, he opened the door without hesitation. There he was, sleeping on his bed, curled up in the sheets shaking like a small puppy in the night air. It hurt him to see the man he cared for cold and weak, but he was unable to supply him with any material warmth since his father would blame him for stealing and send him away. So he walks in silently, places the candle on the night table, and unties his robe. His lover slowly blinked up at him as he woke up, his expression conveying curiously yet gratefulness as the robe was draped over him. 20) Reflections in glass:__ It was like an overlay. No matter how many hours a day he spent clicking and scrolling on his computer trying to edit and recreate photos could match what a real overlay looked like. He gazed at the window, watching his coworkers run around the office through the reflection in the glass. He tried to ignore the reflection of his own bored and tired face but it was vividly there. Behind him and his coworkers and outside the window was a view of the busy streets of the inner city. Outsiders may see this as a new, wondrous place but to him, it was the same day in and day out; cars zoom past just to go nowhere. people stroll past just to see no one, life creeps past just to end in nothing. Bored, trapped, he felt as he kept gazing, unfocusing and refocusing on the reflections until he got bored of that as well. 'maybe a change in scenery will help...' he thought lonesomely. 22) Neon lights at 1.30am:__ Laughter echoed throughout the deserted parking lot. According to the time on my phone, it was evident that we had been roaming the streets for a few hours now and currently it was 1:30 in the morning. Typically we would be sleeping or using our phones in bed at this sorta of an hour but tonight was a special night: we were free; we were free from school, parents, and life itself. This night we had decided to live how we wanted to for one whole day before going back to normal. A few of the group had left to either do more enjoyable things or something wrong, probably illegal by the glint in their eyes. I stepped out of the main group for a moment to take a breather and embrace the night air. The last of my soda tingled in my throat as I drank it before disposing of the can. Of course, a few of us had decided to get hand drinks but me? I rather make my own fun than being boosted but something other than. As I dropped the can into the trash bucket, I noticed a bar across the street that was emitting music loud enough to be heard. For a moment I watched as the people inside danced with wide smiles across their faces. While I was so drawn to this scene, I did not notice my best friend-crush approach me until he tapped my shoulder. I yelped of course before turning to him. What I saw was beautiful. His face was lit up blue and red from the nearest neon sign and he was bearing a soft smile and even kinder eyes. At this moment, a wild urge overtook me so I gave in and reached my hand out to him saying: "If you ever wanna join me, baby, I'll be dancing in the dark." [inspired by Dancing in the Dark by Imagine Dragons] 26) The smell of Cologne/Perfume on warm skin: (This was an original work but now I dedicate it to a special someone :P just yeet the cologne part dwai) The first thing that comes to mind is that of my face pressed against my love’s neck. I press kiss after kiss, roaming the warm skin with my lips and fingers as I plot the points of love across his expansive map. The cologne just makes the experience heightened. The smell intoxicates me; the scent is familiar and that I can only label by my lover’s name. My mind spins as I want more and more of the person before me, a person filled with comfort and warmth. Eyes hooded, mind fogged, I searched for more skin to kiss. 27) The musty smell of an abandoned home: (Hinata and Yachi)  She glanced at her partner to see that he was shaking in fright. Their friends had pranked them to go into the abandoned, mysterious house that sat in the middle of the woods. She had managed to get the door open when he had screamed and started to shake. Typically her friends called her the scaredy cat but when he was so frightened by even a fly, she had to step forward to protect him. Grabbing his hand, she pulled him into the house. The flashlight revealed that it was a standard home; living room in the front, kitchen to the side, and bedrooms upstairs. It should be noted that they were the first two ever to go inside, so everything still sat where they were placed years ago. Other than the darkness and bleakness of the house, the thing that most hit her was the smell: it seemed to clog her nose with all of the dust and particles that had not normally been flushed out of the house. She sneezed loudly just to receive another scream from the boy. 31) the cool, sharp smell of the first frost: (Todoroki family) This was expected. Her little brother was finally gaining his powers. She laid awake most nights, wondering how their father would treat him once his powers take. The hair itself showed a perfect split of powers but only time could tell what would actually happen. Her little brother ran into her room one night, tripping over his small socked feet as he tried to be careful of the dark surrounds even in his panic. He nearly crashed into her bed if it was not for her turning on her lamp. Mismatched eyes were filled with tears and for a second she was confused on why until her eyes drifted down to see his fist covered in a thin layer of frost. Her fears stood corrected, he had obtained both of the quirks; the fire was not visibly present but it wouldn't be surprising if it suddenly out lashed. But, enough with their fathers, she had a small crying little boy clearly afraid of what was happening to him. She grabbed her blanket from the bed and knelt down before him before wrapping his hand in the hem of the blanket before he got frostbite. That night, they fell asleep night to each other but her dreams were plagued by visions of flames and hatred. 32) The smell of blood: (Akafuri)  His lover sat before him, his hands shaking as he held up a bundle of flowers. It was perplexing to see pure white roses since he had only read of them in storybooks. Where did he find these? He raised his hand to touch one of the pure roses when movement caught the edge of his eye. His lover raised his hand before curling it up in a fist. Raising an eyebrow, he went to fistbump instead as he was taught but before their fists could connect, blood started to drip from the fist. Instincts told him to grab the hand, open it up and tend the wounds but no, the piercing laughter that broke out from his lover's lips made his body stop and mind freeze. Blood dripped down upon the bundles of roses, staining them red as he laughed and laughed and cried out that while love is pure, it is also painful. The crackling went on and on and on.. and on.. and on... and... His eyes snapped open. Breathing harshly he sat up in his bed, pulling and grasping the blankets before him. The cursed laughter filled his ears and the smell of blood tickled his nose. 33) The feel of fingertips trailing over a bare shoulder blade: (Miyusawa) The knife hit the cutting board with dull thumps and I sliced through the celery sticks. For the most part, the house was quiet other than the sounds of the birds chirping out back and Slider, the dog, snoring peacefully in his bed. It was just a lazy Sunday morning. The pan sizzled and popped as I dropped the sticks in among the other vegetables and meat, the smells of my favorite breakfast making me smile softly. After stirring the contents a bit, I reached up and brushed my fingers across the bruises on my neck, not minding the soreness that much opposes to their appearance. Not much could be done about that so I go back to cooking; chopping up onions is the next step. As I started to slice through the onion, soft fingertips were felt on my shoulder blade. I did not jump like expected, just sighed lightly as my lover pressed kisses to my shoulders before wrapping his arms around me. I would never jump at his touch anymore, I would just lean in and feel loved. 34) The feel of fingers brushing together by accident:__ Brushing against him was the easiest thing. Seeing that I often hug him and sit against him it would be reasonable to think that I would not notice a simple brush of knuckles but no, I notice every time. Every time we go for the plates at the same time, every time he passed me a glass, every time he-- heh, not all of the touches where accidents to be honest, just purposeful reaches to touch. I couldn't help but smile at his sleepy grin as we twine our fingers together before pulling apart just to let him boop my nose and pull at my fingers. Those touches are wonderful but also are the small ones. The accidental bumps where fingers meet and warm spreads throughout from the single point of contact. I want to grab his hand fully and press a lingering kiss to his lips, to get closer and closer making the simple brush seem meaningless. But no, I do not get the kiss but that is okay; feeling the small touches and seeing his happy smile is enough to keep my heart singing and mind buzzing.

39) Stepping on something squishy: (Sawamura Eijun) Someday, God will pay, he thought as he glared down at his foot. Stepping in dog turd was not a way he wanted to start his first day of work or any day in fact. It was disgusting— if it were not for it being the poop but purely the sensation he still will be grossed out. Even now, he can already hear his coworkers’ laugher as he walks in with smelly, brown shoes. For a moment he cursed the pet owner for leaving the poo before he realizes it was his own ignorance for stepping into it on accident. Sighing again, he started to walk, hoping numbly that he would find a shoe store or a bathroom on the way to his new office. 46) The waver in a person’s voice when they’re stressed:** "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know." He repeated, the words coming out waver and waver as he continued. Eyes stared at him. He couldn't tell if it was one person watching or thousand just that it was overwhelming and stressful and all he wanted was /out/. He did not know the answer, why are they pressuring them? Why are they being this way? Why do they not care that every part of them is screaming for escape but just the idea of being hurt is enough to make him stay? Why, why, why? He is scared, so scared inside. Apparently, he is not allowed to be wrong; apparently, he is not allowed to be hurt and in pain; apparently, he is not allowed to be scared, like any normal child. But there they are before him, looking at him with a neutral face, unforgiving and hard look in their eye. His repeating falls silent as tears finally spill and he is choking on his own sadness, sad that only not knowing one thing can turn out so painful. 49) Trying to pull on clothes with damp skin Trying to pull off damp clothing:**  Taking off wet clothing for most people meant they had just trudged through a snowstorm and were having the worst day and were struggling to find dry clothing but for me? It meant happiness-- but then again, once most people reach a certain age that does not take care of children take snow for granted. Unlike those people, I walk into my house with a huge grin on my face, not giving a care in the world that the floor was getting covered in snow. The snow boots I wore gave me blisters with turned into scars but I did not care about that either. But what I did care about was getting warm. Running upstairs I grabbing a fresh pair of clothing before heading into the bathroom. Letting out a sigh, I try my best to pull off my soaked shirt just to get it stuck on my head. Laugh, have fun with that imagery, but yes, almost every single time.  Luckily enough I get it off without help and that in itself is a workout. So within all of this, the important lesson that should be noted is that whenever you go out into the snow, make sure you are prepared for the endgame struggle. 53) The relief of fatalistic recklessness:__ "Fate rules all." This was the topic of the paper he was set to write. He did not understand why his professor assigned them just a simple sentence that could turn into the most complicated thing in the world. Fate was always a heated topic among every living person on the planet; no one goes each day wondering if things happen by free will or predetermined events. Religion and culture are heavy on these topics but he much rather put those to the side for the last resort option. He does not understand the looks of peace and relief that some of his friends wear as they do some of the most reckless things with their lives and just say "no matter what I do there is already a set plan for me". He wants to argue with them up and down and give reasons why that was not true but like anyone else, everyone has their own beliefs. If they want to believe that their lives are already set courses, then be it, there is no trouble in trying to get the best for yourself... Hours later, he sits back in his seat and sighs. His fingers tired from rapidly typing keys as his runs them over his face to try to rid of the sore eyes. Yawning, he grabs his glass before glancing at his paper one last time before turning in for bed, and at this, he realized that all he wrote was about the argument of the topic and what he thought about it. Maybe he will get a great grade when turning it in or not, that is fate to decide. 56) Someone accepting the bad parts of you without judging:** Someone very important to me once told me, “If you act like yourself, everyone will be much happier, including yourself.” The statement in itself is somewhat blunt but the impact it had on me was huge. It meant that I could be unapologetically me, all of the good and all of the bad and that no one will think horribly of me. Of course, there’s a lot of people that will but around my closest friends, that meant they accepted me for who I am. Telling someone your pains and anxieties and all the while your wondering when they will leave and abandon you for you being you is painful, but just as you are trying to swallow back your tears, there’s that special someone who takes you by the hand and tells you that everything is gonna be alright and that just because sometimes about you are dark doesn’t mean that you are not the light. 57) Brown iodine stains on skin: (my mother) It is painful to watch. Yes, what had happened to her was painful but the situation she had to come back to was more painful to watch. Although we still sometimes laugh at the horrific sandwich incident, the rest of the situation was not funny. A couple of weeks before she had gotten surgery on her wrist and hand, rendering her without her right hand (although she was ambidextrous), and today she was finally pulling the bandages off. Surgery and medical operations always make me feel queasy inside but before she wrapped her hand up in new bandages, I noticed orange-brown iodine stains covering her hand. She noticed the look on my face and said not to worry, that it will fade away soon enough. I knew there was nothing to worry; in the past, she had gone through knee surgery, GBS (which is a thousand stories in itself, lucky to have her here still) and broken foot so something like this is nothing to be extremely worried about. If she could get through what happened before, she can get through this, and she did! I am lucky and proud of her healing and attentiveness to get herself to be better, physically at least... the painful part about watching the post-surgery at home was the utter lack of caring by my father. It was basically nothing, no offers, no taking charge-- he basically put more on her than usual. It was painful to watch her suffer mentally to all of this, so I had to take a step forward myself and help her. 58) Rust red dirt: (Shiro and OC Violet)  Sometimes when he wakes up, he forgets where he is. Most days he is expecting to wake up at home in his bed next to his beautiful wife and to go downstairs and give his children forehead kisses good morning. He only realizes that he is not at home is when the flashes of lights from nearby control panels catch his eyes and that the bedding below him was stiffer than any mattress he would purchase. Groaning he sat up, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. Every day here makes him miss home more. He is starting to miss the smallest of things; he misses the sound of tussling sheets, he misses the taste of sweet soda, he misses the feel of fingers on his cheek, he misses the smell of freshly cooked steak, he missed the sight of the annoying, awful ad on Tv that he actually likes since it makes his wife laugh every time. He misses his home.    Standing, he walks over to the nearest porthole and stares out. The only thing he was met with was miles and miles of red rust dirt and rocks as big as houses, and behind it was a beautiful view of space that he was slowly starting to hate. If he knew he would be his homesick up on Mars, he would have never signed that contract. 59) the creak of leather: (please forgive me, be glad I’m sharing this at least):  Leather gloves are intoxicating. Leather fingerless gloves are the prime. He runs his hand down your arm. Your breath jumps, eyes fixated on his hand as your nerves start to buzz from the simulation. When he does this, you get two sensations: the drag of fingertips and the soft pull of leather, both creating this incredible feeling. You pull his hand to your lips as you press a kiss to his palm and breathe in the succulent smell of leather; an earthy, sweet and raw smell you breathe and you don’t want him to stop touching. You gasp and shift as he continues to touch, rolling his hands over soft plains of skin. You pay no mind to the rest of him, just his hands.  62) Fingertips smudged in blue ink:** Notes, notes, notes. A constant stream of words and drawings on paper makes your eyes sore as you continue to write. The pen you are using flows across the page; each letter and word from this pen becomes more and more sloppy as time rolls on. As you yawn and go to turn the next book page, your hand slips and you accidentally press your fingers into the wet ink. You don't notice this at first and continue to go turn the page. Minutes or hours later you notice that there's blue ink smudged on your fingertips and palm, and all you can do it try to scrub it out or shrugged, because who has not had a day when they accidentally have ink on their hands. It is evidence of hard work after all!

[witchdoodle]

cute headcanons i just made up...

vivienne saw how pad struggled to get his hands on products for his hair type which is common up north but very uncommon south of the waking sea, and went out of her way to procure cocoa butter and castor oil for him. she used to wear her hair in elaborate hairstyles but just kinda got sick of it and wanted a sleeker look so she shaved it a couple years back, so she knows what’s up. she’s also hooks him up with stylists whenever they’re in orlais who know how to handle his hair type. she brought her personal stylist to halamshiral before celene’s ball for his sake, and gave him a lot of valuable advice about how to navigate orlesian racism/colourism within the game.

bull will happily spend hours braiding pad’s hair with surprising dexterity given that he’s missing half of two fingers. in turn pad loves to sit behind him with his legs slung over bull’s shoulders, rubbing balm into his horns (especially where they meet the skin of his head, which gets super dry and itchy) and helping shave the back of his head where he always misses spots.

after pad loses his arm bull helps him a lot with his hair.

meditation is a common practice among the qun, but the dalish do it too. pad’s keeper specifically taught him about mindfulness, which he still practices. pad does guided meditations for bull all the time which he looooves and finds super relaxing, and it helps with bull’s aftercare. (doms need aftercare too!)

silas works for dennet in the stables. dennet knew right away that he was worth his weight in gold as a stablehand and was like ALL THE REST OF YOU FUCK OFF THIS ONE’S MINE. he looked after him in the beginning when silas was still very shy and nervous around all these shemlen, made sure no one was bullying him or pushing him around and helped him gain confidence by backing up silas’ authority with the recruits who might be disinclined to listen to a “knife-ear,” especially a “cripple.” dennet basically was like: shut the fuck up he knows more than you. 

plus, silas introduced him to the halla he’d brought and dennet was D Y I N G to meet one. he’s a little too big to ride one (and halla won’t take human riders anyway) but he got a little giddy just being so close to one. one of them even ate an apple out of his hand.

leliana also saw his usefulness right away and recruited him to teach her elven scouts -- the vast majority of whom are city elves -- how to ride halla. halla are faster, nimbler, more intelligent, and able to traverse terrain horses cannot -- ideal for scouts who need to move quickly and quietly.

leliana also put him to work teaching her agents sign language, instantly seeing how useful that, too, would be -- given that it’s not the chantry’s sign language and rival spies would be unlikely to be able to understand it. now a ton of people in the inquisition know it and silas has a lot more people to talk to.

leliana and shireen had a lot to talk about, having wildly different perspectives on the chantry. shireen and vivienne have more in common as far as their backgrounds go, though the two of them responded to similar traumas by moving in opposite directions. all three of them bond over shoes, but shy’s a little, well, shy because being dalish has made her such a tomboy and she feels like she doesn’t know as much as them about fashion and femininity.

iron bull took one look at kost, BURST OUT LAUGHING, and instantly adopted him. he taught him a lot about the qun, given how little kost has ever known about that side of his heritage since his tal-vashoth mum died when he was a baby and he was raised dalish. it was really good also for bull to be around someone who was vashoth.

one of silas’ gifts to kost was horn balm. kost’s nubs get very itchy in the dry air of the frostbacks. silas eventually confessed it’s nipple cream for horses and kost was like jfsklajkglajhklaeh a. ... but he kept using it. i mean, it worked.

varric looks after shan, makes sure he takes breaks, eats, sleeps somewhere comfortable, washes himself, wears clean clothes, because otherwise shan will only do most of those things if told. he’s gotten in the habit of having shan scribe for him. saves his poor aching wrists (varric does a lot of writing and correspondence) and gives shan something useful to do, which seems to make shan feel content. shan also helps varric with maths and accounting.

pad and josie also definitely takes advantage of shan’s willingness to do that. pad is not very literate -- josephine taught him how to read common, he could only read elvish before -- and having shan read his correspondence to him and write down his replies helps him A TON. josie just finds that shan’s handwriting is EXTREMELY neat and precise and he’s one of her best scribes.

sera keeps trying to teach shan jokes. it doesn’t work very well but she’s taught him how to repeat a few of them verbatim even if his delivery sucks. she’s surprisingly nice to him and she’s the first to kick the crap out of someone for mistreating him, because shan can’t really stand up for himself and it’s not fair.

shan can’t do magic but can still do alchemy, and he makes a serum that really helps ease the pain in bull’s bad leg.

solas and shireen have had long conversations about elven history and culture. solas’ relationship with the dalish is... strained... but he does feel a lot of respect for shireen for making the effort to attempt to connect more to her nature (as compared to, say, sera), no matter how much the dalish got wrong. (and pad has since taught solas that just because dalish culture is different from elvhen culture does not mean it is worse.) and shireen, like pad, is willing to learn and have her ideas challenged. solas taught her a little bit about painting too.

josephine commissioned an artist for an official portrait (and had to fire the first one after absolutely chewing him out for trying to human-wash pad’s elfiness), which pad hated. solas got him to sit for a more relaxed, less formal portrait that more accurately captured his personality, and sketched him many times mostly without his knowledge. he gave one such sketch to bull. 

shireen... has a Huge Crush... on cassandra oh my god she’s like a giggly schoolgirl whenever she sees her like I LIKE... YOUR MUSCLES OKAY BYE runs away giggling

cole helps leith with their trauma, mental illness, and psychosis -- cole does a lot of reality checking for leith, because while they present similarly and are perceived similarly, cole only perceives truth, complicated as truth often is; leith is delusional, their mind just making shit up wholecloth. if leith asks is this real? they know they can trust cole when he answers yes or no, that cole won’t lie to them, in part because cole is a spirit/demon. they have looooong conversations alone, after which leith is usually much calmer and more lucid.

cole is the only one who knows leith’s surname/clan name. that name died with their clan; they won’t tell anyone else. not even cullen. they are just leith.

cullen paints or draws on leith’s arms with ink so they won’t cut themself.

cullen has long one-sided conversations with leith when leith is non-verbal -- he’ll pose a question and then answer it out loud, give a running commentary, just ramble stream-of-consciousness to keep talking, asks yes/no questions. it makes leith feel like they’re still a part of the conversation even when they can’t talk. cullen does a lot of little things like that to make leith feel normal or at least like it’s okay to be different. leith can’t talk today? all right, cullen will talk enough for them both. leith can’t make it outside? fine, they’ll stay indoors, who needs to go outside anyway. leith’s afraid there are people hiding and stalking them? cullen will check every nook and cranny.

solas has also had long talks with leith. solas never practiced blood magic much, we know that, but finds the practice fascinating and useful, so he was very interested to talk to someone who used blood magic as a tool and not as a means to an end in the pursuit of power for power’s sake. solas’ familiarity with spirits and the fade also makes him uniquely equipped to handle leith’s ... oddities.