#i wonder if other people have different favorite color chips?

[crabfungi]

Im having the time of my life it simply does not get better than this

[vodika-vibes]

Hi!!! I was wondering if you could write a steamy imperial tech x rebel fem reader? If that’s ok with you. I really love your writing! ❤️

Simple Chemistry

Summary: You and Tech have been playing a game of cat and mouse for what seems like months. It was only a matter of time before things came to a head.

Pairing: Imperial! Tech x Rebel F!Reader

Word Count: 1668

Warnings: Some smut

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So. This is based in an AU type setting where Crosshair's chip never activated, but the rest of the Batchers did. So Crosshair was raising Omega alone, and they ended up joining the Rebellion because it's just him. I hope this is close to what you wanted!

“Well, well, well,” A small grin plays on your painted lips as you saunter over to the tall man leaning against the wall, “Look at what the tooka dragged in. I never expected to see you, of all people, in a place like this.”

This was a club.

One of your favorite clubs, for that matter. With dimmed lights interspersed with blinding strobe lights of different colors and loud, thrumming music that you can feel down to your bones.

This is a regular haunt of yours. You’ve recruited more than one young, hot-blooded young person for the Rebellion here. And you have no intention of stopping.

Even if the Empire found it.

Of course, Tech isn’t dressed like an Imp right now. Clever, he never would have been allowed in if he had been wearing the stark gray uniform of the Imperial Army. 

His dark eyes remain locked on your face, and your smile doesn’t waver.

“Well?” You prod as you lean into his personal space, “What brings you to my domain, darling?”

“I am not your darling.” Tech finally says, his lips twisting as he says the pet name that you bequeathed to him months ago.

“So you keep claiming, darling. And yet, you’re here. And you haven’t taken your eyes off me since I got here.” Your voice is light and conversational as if you’re not talking to someone who’s been hunting you for months.

This isn’t the first time you and Tech have met face to face. You’re both very talented at what you do, and you’ve been playing a game of cat and mouse with him, leading him on a wild chase across the galaxy…leading him away from the other rebels.

He almost caught you several months ago, but you managed to escape with the timely assistance of his own twin brother and younger sister. Though, you’re willing to bet that Tech doesn’t know that.

His eyes narrow at you, “I should take you in for questioning.” He says curtly.

“Oh? For what?”

“You are a member of the Rebel Alliance.” He snaps, his eyes flashing, “And you are a criminal.”

You laugh, “Prove it.”

He scowls at you, “I do not have to prove it.”

“Aww, sweetling,” You splay your hand on his chest, and you feel his breathing stutter, “We both know that the word of a clone is next to worthless to the Imps.”

He stiffens, and glowers at you. Likely because he knows you’re right. 

You grin at him, and hook your fingers in the material of his blacks, “Let’s dance, darling.”

“I did not come here to dance.” Tech says, “I came to arrest you.”

“Oh? That’s too bad. Because I came here to dance. And if you won’t dance with me, I’m sure I can find someone to keep me company.” You say lightly as you turn away from him and scan the crowd for someone else to keep you company.

A strong hand wraps around your thin wrist, and you glance at Tech over your shoulder. It would be so easy for him to hurt you, he’s so much stronger than you are, but his touch is gentle.

“Changed your mind, have you?” You ask with a sly smile.

“I am not letting you out of my sight.” Tech says.

“Lovely!” You twist your wrist and take his hand, pulling him onto the crowded dance floor, and then you press your body against his, your arms sliding around his neck. “There,” You say, your lips brushing against his ear, “Isn’t this better.”

He’s tense against you, but slowly his hands settle on your waist.

You grin at him and you lazily start to move against him, and his grip tightens on your waist. 

“Relax, darling.” You coo against his ear, “It’s just dancing.”

Slowly, very slowly, the tension drains out of his body, as he starts dancing with you. And even more slowly, one of his hands slides down until it’s resting against your ass and his other hand slides up to rest on the back of your neck.

It’s a very possessive hold, and you can’t help but wonder if he realizes he’s doing it.

Not that you mind one way or the other. If you had a problem with being felt up by the man you’re pressed against, you wouldn’t have dragged him to the dance floor.

You consider him for a moment. It’s going to be a bitch to extricate yourself from him at the end of the night, you know. And if you want to be smart, you’d put an end to this now.

But if you were smart, you wouldn’t have become a Rebel in the first place.

Lazily, almost carelessly, you press your lips below his ear in a light kiss. And Tech curses, a low groan falling from his lips. 

Score. One point for the Rebel Scum.

You grin against his skin at his reaction and lightly nibble on the same spot.

This time his groan is a little louder and his hips jerk against yours. 

“Ooh, you like that then,” You murmur in his ear.

Tellingly, Tech doesn’t reply to you, but you didn’t expect him to, not really.

“That’s okay,” You whisper soothingly, “It’s a very normal reaction, Tech. No judgment. And no teasing. Not from me.”

He doesn’t react for a moment, but then his grip tightens. His fingers bite into the skin on the back of your neck and of your ass, and you know you’ll have bruises. 

Tech pulls you back slightly, his gaze dark as he scans your face, and then there’s a flash of something soft, gone so quickly that you think you must have imagined it. 

Then his lips are on yours. 

The kiss is hot and desperate, as if he’s trying to replace everything that you are with himself.

He’s a surprisingly good kisser, his teeth and tongue working in unison to leave you breathless and clinging to him. 

Even with all of that, you’re surprised when he tugs you off of the dance floor and down a narrow hall. And you’re even more surprised when he leads you into a small storage room, and he locks the door behind him with a rough hit of the door panel.

And then you’re pressed against the door, surprisingly gently, and his lips are against yours again. His hands, rough and calloused, dip under the hem of your shirt, and drag against your stomach pleasantly. 

“Not in here to kill me, I take it?” You breathe against his lips.

“Annoying.” Tech replies, as he grips the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head, and then he pauses, his gaze lingering on your bare breasts. “...you are not wearing a bra.”

“Nope.” He blinks at you, adorably flustered, and you grin, “I’m not wearing underwear either.”

A myriad of emotions cross his face, “Why?”

“Why am I not wearing any undergarments?” You ask, “Because I came here to get laid, Tech.”

The emotions finally settle on stark jealousy, “Did you?”

You laugh, your head falling back against the door, “Oh, darling, I’m in a locked storage room, half naked, with you. You silly, jealous man.”

He looks slightly sheepish for a moment, and then he glances at the miniskirt you’re wearing, “How often do you go bare-?”

“More often than not.” You say with a shrug.

Tech stares at you for a long moment, and then he releases a curse in another language, and crashes his lips against yours again, his hands burning a path across your breasts, and over your ribs, “I want you.” He gasps against your lips, “Need you.”

“You have me, Tech.” You whisper as you slide your hands under his shirt, tracing his muscles eagerly, “I’m right here.”

He fumbles with your skirt for a moment, before just shoving it up and out of the way. His long fingers slide across your thighs, taking his time to memorize the feel of your skin against him.

“Come back to the Empire with me,” He breathes as he slides his fingers a little further up your thigh, “I will protect you. No one will hurt you-” He’s pleading with you, half begging you, and you smile at him gently.

“No.” You pull him into a deep kiss as his fingers lightly glide across your clit and you release a gasping moan, before you control yourself again. He needs to hear this. “All it takes for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing,” You shudder as he eases his finger inside you and curls it, “Kriff, Tech-”

“You will not be safe.” Tech whispers, “Let me protect you.”

“No.” You repeat, through breathless moans, and you press your hands against his cheeks, “Freedom is worth fighting for.”

He closes his eyes and presses his forehead against yours, “I want you to be mine.”

“I will not sacrifice my freedom for safety.”

He crashes his lips against yours, his tongue sliding against yours, and he slides his fingers out of you, pulling a whine from your throat. 

Tech tugs you away from the door and sits you on a crate, settling himself between your thighs, “Was only a matter of time,” He mutters against your lips.

“What was?” You gasp out the words as he trails his fingers over your bare body. 

“This. Us.”

You laugh breathlessly, “Too much chemistry?”

“Something like that.” He agrees, and he flashes you a slightly lopsided smile, before he kisses you again. 

And, for now, you lose yourself in him. In his lips and his touch. It’ll be twice as hard to pull yourself from him after this, he’ll hunt you to the ends of the galaxy.

But you have a pretty good feeling that, given enough time, you can get Tech to flip.

That’s a problem for later. For now, you have an attractive man wholly dedicated to bringing you pleasure, and that’s more important than anything to you.

[vrisrezis]

HIHIHIHHIIHIHI

MILES X GWEN X READER!! just fluff. i love these two, i love them sm. please. just make them cuddle and sweet talk to the point it would rot my brain. everyone calling eachother cute nicknames. just chilling in miles's bed. you can add your own sprinkle of spice in it or something idk how it goes just make it teeth-rottingly sweet. i must squeal and die. also-- LOVE. YOUR. WORKS!!!!!!!!! you are now in my list of favorite people in the world (which is only so little but ill tell you that joji is also it.) have a good day and eat and drink, stay healthy. cause YOLO! :D

—————

Hi thank u for the kindness LOL here ya go !! 🫶🏾

You yawn, plopping on Miles’s bed. You don’t even bother to take off your spider suit, and quite frankly neither does your boyfriend, or your girlfriend for that matter.

They do at least take off their damn masks though, unlike you who can’t even be bothered to do that much. The two plop right on top of you, making you wheeze out a laugh. The two laugh in turn at the sound you made, and they both wrap their arms around you in an embrace. The three of you often cuddled like this after a particularly rough mission. Today was no different, but it definitely felt like there was some playfulness in the air. A rare moment where the three of you were perfectly happy and more than content.

Gwen takes off your mask for you, and she smirks “you smell like … sweat and …” she sniffs you, “is that… fish…?”

you grin, “I had fish and chips with hobie”

Miles rolls his eyes at the fact your shared spider friend was a walking British stereotype sometimes, but for once he doesn’t say anything. He sighs, “smells terrible.”

“Thanks miles.” you smile, “you really know how to make your partner feel like the most breathtaking piece of art in the world.”

“Sorry sorry!” he laughs with a shake of his head, and Gwen can’t help but smile and the two people she fell in love with, watching you two jokingly bicker with one another.

“Even though you smell terrible, you’re still gorgeous to me, sweetie” Gwen butts in, and you grin. “Aww! Gwenny!” Miles pouts, but then laughs when Gwen says, “except when you call me that.” “Hey! Cmon!”

Gwen simply laughs along with you, and so does miles. And eventually, you do too. Sometimes this is just what life is. Giggling at absolutely nothing, your boyfriend and girlfriend were far from funny but anything with them felt fun and exciting. And sometimes even when life takes almost everything from you, you are given the most wonderful gifts in the world. In any world, really.

You think about how lucky you are, when you see your significant others asleep, right besides you.

You smile, and thank whatever god out there for granting you with such bright, colorful people to fill that empty void you felt for so long.

[anticomedygarden]

21 & 22 from the 2023 in review game ❤️❤️

21. Share your favorite piece of dialogue

This was hard because I'm always afraid my dialogue falls flat, but here's piece of wolf that I really like:

“There are no wild wolves in England,” Lily said with a frown. 

Sirius glanced at her. “What?”

She nodded. “The last wolf in the UK was shot in 1680, and they haven’t been reintroduced.” Sirius caught her eye and tried to convey that she needed to stop talking. She must have finally realized what was going on because her eyes went wide, and she muttered, “...but maybe it was coyotes.”

Poppy just nodded. “Well, I’ve got to get back to my rounds, as should you two.” She turned to leave, but not before saying, “Oh, and Sirius is assigned to coyote boy, and Ms. Evans, you get coyote girl.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, and they each gave her a thumbs up. 

As soon as she was gone, Lily smacked him on the shoulder, wonder in her eyes, and said, “I touched a werewolf!”

“Shh!” Sirius put a hand against her mouth. “You also treated him for internal bleeding, but that doesn’t mean you can tell people about it!” Her bright eyes somehow got even wider and she nodded, so, cautiously, he took his hand off her mouth.

At first, she was silent, lips pursed, then, in a harsh whisper, said, “My hands were in a werewolf!”

If it were anyone else, he would’ve been concerned that she wasn’t more worried about coming into contact with a bloody beast, but since it was her, all he did was gape. “Please, make it sound more sexual. I dare you.”

“Is that what you said six months ago?”

Sirius gasped. “Lily!”

Her eyes twinkled, and she danced away. “Go do your rounds. I’m sure wolf boy will be thrilled to see you.”

I love this part because Sirius is just standing there all kinds of panicking, and Lily is telling them about wild canine populations. I haven't gotten a lot of chances to write their friendship, so it's always fun.

22. Share an excerpt from your favorite scene

This scene from you're a sad sight honey but you look so cute:

Then, Jason took the jacket off, and Nico stared. There were chip bags, water bottles, and other snacks taped to the inside of the garment.

"What the hell did you two do?" Nico asked wearily. Will looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"We brought you food," Percy said helpfully.

Nico gestured helplessly. "Why, exactly?"

Jason started pulling the food off the jacket and handing it to Nico and Will. "In case your bus breaks down again."

"Oh my god." Nico almost fumbled a granola bar. "What the hell are we supposed to do with all this?"

Jason stood and looked at Nico like he was the one being weird. "Tape it to your jackets."

This scene still cracks me up, partially because it's so stupid but it's also so true to marching band. The one year I did marching alto sax, I'd have music in my hat, hot hands in any pockets I could find, sometimes extra reeds. One of my friends would bring a small blanket to wrap around their stomach inside their pants lmao. One time, somebody else marched a halftime show with a chicken sandwich in their hat and ate it during fourth quarter. The other three years, I did color guard and would have hot hands in my bra and would get my friends to hold my wallet in their hats or pants pocket. We all had candy somewhere. One girl was a cheerleader and had her friends each hold a different part of her flute in their pants pocket or hat and hold it for her until half time.

I also just love how their characters came out here, especially Percy and Jason's relationship with Nico.

questions from this ask game

[goldenguillotines]

N. - Mornings

Character(s): Nakaou.. Vague mentions of others hehehe.. if u know u know

Warnings: None that I know of!

Note: I just wanted to make something general about him.. leaving mentions guessy on purpose.. ending open on purpose too hahaha

Something beautiful yet incredibly sad.

There was something pleasant about watching the sun rise.

The sun was a sign of death. The undead rose with the sun.. while the trolls that still breath skitter to the shadows.. and at some point he had done the same.

Sleeping away the sun.

Yet.. here he was. Perched on the ledge of that favorite rooftop. Watching the sun peek over the horizon. Colors rippling against the dark sky. Alone.

It was laughable really. Nakaou? Alone? Most people would scoff how he ran up to about anyone and made himself apart of their group.. or stuck close to the friends he did have frequently in his life.. but here he was.

Alone.

It was how it *should* be. Him alone. Yet he never could bring himself to do it. He was selfish. Yearned for something that he knew he shouldn't allow.. being that personal with others. Sticking around.. shedding those layers he had built up to protect himself from being irreparably broken. Being weak like he was. Wanting what was better for others at the cost of himself. In flesh and blood..

He flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette, the smoke drifting softly..

How much more time would pass? Where he'd find himself in the same situation amd he was once before? Being close to the ones in his life. Only to have them either accept your life as a barter chip.. or grow angered by you...

He chuckled dryly. He wondered even now if that was his fate. People growing tired or enraged.. flicking him into the trash.

He wondered when the others would do the same. Maybe she'd be fed up? Or maybe he'd be bored.. Maybe they'd think he's pathetic..

There was a spark of envy... jealousy.. eating away at the back of his brain. Thoughts drifting like the smoke to something he had witnessed.. Recalling how openly his friends had shared their grief to someone close to them. Personal.. was putting it lightly. Allowing someone to witness their agony and hurt.. and be unjudged for it. Shedding and hurting to their core.. for everyone to hear. Enough to shake the heavens.. yet they were treated carefully and with love.

As if it was ever that simple. He was glad in their moment of hurt.. Something he wouldn't be able to provide.. but yet.

They were different. Completely.

They were something.. not troll.. but even then. The only thing they shared was Grey skin and horns.

The sun poked it's head out, making Nakaou squint for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the bright light..

He was himself.. Not a cadaver yet not a troll. Something between at this point.. he would not die. No matter how hard he tried. No matter what someone had done. Or what accident had swept him aside.

He would be like this. Forever. Maybe to infinity.. who knew at this point. He certainly hoped not. Maybe death would be something peaceful. He didn't even remember what it was like.. a nap interrupted. Yeah. Felt like that he guessed..

He sighed. Pinching the bridge of his nose..

'something is looming'

Jae's voice.. seemed to whisper in the back of his mind. His voice.. often spoke to him at strange times. But this.. was new. His ears perked.. listening closely. To the silence.

..

He looked over his shoulder.. and nothing greeted him.. but the empty rooftop responded back. With its empty brick and loud air conditioning unit.

He huffed.. taking a drag.. as he fished out his phone.. and began to scroll. The screen dimly illuminating his face at this point. The sun was a rsther bright thing... and he pressed a button. Before raising it to his ear, listening to the ringing echo back at him.

"... Hey. Hey yea- N-No IM alright hehe. Sorry for interupttin' yer bed tiMe routine.. but. HM.. Can.. Can you stay up a little longer?"

There were... a few chats that needed to be had..

[cienie-isengardu]

    Etain sipped. The shig was citrus-flavored and kinder to her stomach than caf. "It's just such a shame that all that other data was... lost."

    It felt too cruel to say blown to pieces by your crazy brother.

    "Yeah," Mereel said, and squatted down next to her seat. He put his finger to his lips for silence and opened one of his belt pouches. Then he drew out a container, the kind that datachips were stored in, took her hand, and laid it on the little box. "Indeed."

    "Mereel..."

    "Don't you always do a backup, Etain? Tut tut..."

    "Don't joke about this, Mereel." She was starting to get annoyed with him. Skirata had been mortified by it. "Is that what I think it is?"

    "We might have behavioral problems, but we're not stupid. It is. All intact. Ordo meant what he said, but he didn't use the real set of chips."

    Etain's ecstatic relief was instantly slapped down by recalling Skirata's face. "How could you do this to Kal? What if he'd had a seizure or something? He was devastated."

    Mereel replaced the datachips and stood up. "I know, I know. Ordo and I argued over it, but it was the only way I could get Kal'buir to act like it was real. He's usually a great little actor, our buir, but he isn't always good at grief. Ko Sai would probably have spotted it."

    "Poor man."

    "I'll comm Ordo and let him know he can tell Kal'buir."

    "Kal's going to be furious. He blames himself."

    "Oh, Ord'ika can get away with murder. He's the number one son." Mereel went back to the datapad, and smiled again. "And it broke Ko Sai, didn't it?" [True Colors]

➦ Mereel is such a fine schemer but this passage makes me wonder, if his knack for manipulation and ruthlessness toward even his own family (Skirata) is actually connected to Skirata’s favoritism of Ordo (and maybe Kal’s general way to interact with people). Kal said to Etain in the same book “You can't have favorites. But [Ordo]'s probably the one I overprotect most, yes” so he may not see his attitude as having the favorite son but as a way to protect the one Null he perceived to need his attention/support the most - what may be relate to how Ordo is the more introverted Null than Mereel or other brothers.

But Mereel definitely see it in different light, as he literaly made a statement that “Ord'ika can get away with murder. He's the number one son”. In the context of his dialogue with Etain, Mereel’s words don't seem to be along the mindset Kal will understand and forgive us and sounds more like, Ordo will tell him the truth because Kal would never blame him for anything. Which to be honest, is awfully worrying to me, especially since True Colors also mentioned in Skirata’s POV that Ordo and Mereel “indulged in a little rivalry” that explained “Mereel's love of risk taking”. All because “he had to edge out of Ordo's shadow somehow”.

Of course, this does not necessarily mean Skirata went out of his way to treat Ordo better than his brothers but for sure there is quite a discrepancy between what Kal said to Etain and what Nulls feel. Ordo felt bad about being the first - and for some time, the only one - Null formally adopted by Skirata due to the implication of being the favorite son (“At least one cause for guilt had been lifted from Ordo's shoulders. He was no longer the only Null formally adopted by Skirata. It was a legal detail, nothing more, but Ordo didn't want to be singled out as the favorite. He already felt he had a far easier time than his brothers.” [O66]), Mereel’s opinion was already mentioned in above quote, then there was the “number one son” joke between all Nulls and the whole dynamic of six brothers brought by Imperial Commando: 501st:

Jaing laid his datapad on the table. "Oh good," he said. "I thought we were going to have a spat about Number One Son losing his place in the pecking order. Okay, what floor plans do we need?"

It had always been a joke, but Ordo wasn't sure it was so funny now. He'd been the informal alpha male of the brothers since infancy, and Skirata treated him as such. Mereel had always fallen into the sidekick role. In a family of six sons, it was inevitable that there'd be alliances and harmless rivalries. Now Ordo was starting to worry that they really did see him differently. The last thing he wanted was advantages that his brothers didn't have.

It is understandable that with six genius-like Nulls and 100 or 104 clone commandos to train at the same time, Kal could mess up here and there in the regard of Nulls’ upbringing. At the same time, it is worrying how differently he and his six sons look at the matter of favoritizing Ordo. For Skirata it wasn’t favoritism per se, just his protectiveness as Ordo worried him the most while for Mereel, Ordo could get away with anything regardless how furious Skirata would be - while at the same time implying(?), he doesn’t think this forgiveness also applies to him?

➦ Etain’s thought “It felt too cruel to say blown to pieces by your crazy brother.” is so... rude?. Like yeah, Ordo wasn’t at his best and news about Fi did not help much to improve his emotional state, but being angry and acting under strong emotion (for what it looked back then) is hardly the same as calling him crazy - a word that usually is associated with someone mentally deranged, especially as manifested in a wild or aggressive way. Dunno maybe my memory is just bad, but I don’t remember Etain thinking about Ordo or Nulls in general by outrightly calling them crazy before? Even during the previous scene, her POV described Ordo as “he walked a fine line between self-control and chaos far more often than anyone seemed to realize, and news of Fi's condition hadn't helped.” What hints Etain was aware of Ordo’s mental problems but she did not classified - insulted? - him as a crazy man. And yes, she was so devastated when Ordo supposedly destroyed the chip and that meant Darman’s chances for normal life dropped dramatically so this attitude could stream from that. But at the same time, the book series like to label people as psycho (Vau, Sev) and crazy (Arla Fett) and dunno, Etain’s remark, even if the one she kept to herself, feels more like an insult than a real worry about Ordo’s mental health.

[aeide-thea]

tagged by @bill-blake-fans-anonymous :3

favorite color i’m allergic to single favorites bc really what i like is color palettes! like. hm. ochre and stormy blue-grey and mossy grey-green. neon chartreuse. highlighter yellow. marigold orange. really saturated electric or else cobalt blue. either Restful or Vivid depending on mood basically. (‘blue-bleak embers, ah my dear, / fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion...’)

currently reading oh god i’m technically in the middle of both a memory called empire AND john m. ford’s aspects still, probably i should finish at least one of those... also i was listening to a bit of the fellowship of the ring in the car the other day (thx, libby!), so i guess that belongs on the list too? (and then there’s the tbr pile from my last used-bookstore trip, which is like. märchen auf deutsch and medieval verse romances and a hopkins biography. but i can’t in good conscience count those as ‘currently’ reading, they’re in the wings at most.)

last song we truly went on a WHOLE musical journey while i was drafting this post, let me tell you. everything from early-00s french indie pop to david lang’s ‘just (after song of songs)’ (which is an incredible piece, for the record—feels like having yr brain carded). but just at the moment we’re up to patrick wolf, from the god’s own country soundtrack, which:

and i long to be carried on just once to be lifted strong out of the loneliness and the emptiness of the days

i mean. don’t we all.

last tv show this feels like cheating somehow but it was in fact last week’s episode of the great british bake off! which seems not-unrepresentative really: i like watching people do creative crafty things; i find food really conceptually interesting (flavors, textures, history, politics...); and i like how warmly collegial gbbo in particular usually is.

last movie oh god, something very quintessentially my dad... state of play (2009), our netflix history informs me. which was very much not high art but like. for the particular sort of thing it is (attempting to uncover a coverup, people are getting killed, you know the drill)‚ i’ve seen worse? russell crowe served p good ‘tired and jaded but still trying wearily despite himself to do the right thing,’ which—having put that into words, no wonder i didn’t hate it more, that’s geralt right there, lmao. different avatars of the same essential blorbo nature. :3

sweet/savory/spicy savory AND spicy! ugh now i’m thinking dreamily of laksa and also of the various spicy lamb noodle things at xi’an famous foods. spicysavorywithnoodles my beloved.

currently working on my sleep schedule, with—really not very much success, if we’re being honest. it’s gotten very fucked and it’s getting in the way of doing things i’d like to do and i feel like shit about it! but every new day is a new opportunity to chip away at things (zie says thru gritted teeth).

tagging god, i don’t know—@theunembarrassedalto, @mosspig​, @toads-revisited​, @klaproos, @proudheron​, and @e-b-reads​, maybe? but only if you feel like it. and as ever, anyone else who'd like to be!

[wiltking]

i finished the rodrigo of caledon books recently and they destroyed me and i can't stop thinking about them... (spoilers!!) i was wondering what u think would happen between roddy and rust after book 2, if they'd stay apart, or roddy would at some point accept his true feelings (if u think he was in love), etc

hello hi and hello congrats on surviving these books!! i have been chipping away at a post-canon fic actually exploring what i think would happen lol but i think (more spoilers!!) the introduction of rust's new gf and bf would make Roddy jealous out of his mind, and basically i see 3 possible scenarios.

1. he succeeds in restoring Anavar before the wedding, the wedding happens, he consumates, but its awkward and his thoughts are colored by Rust because he's here, he's seen the villa, and he's in bed with other people right now, thus causing his marriage to start off rocky and unhappy and Rust doesn't learn the extent of it until Tessa leaves or betrays him, and Roddy will do anything to get Rust back.

2. same start as the first, but after the wedding + consumation, Roddy is fascinated by Rust's m/m/f arrangement and tries to entice him back, even discussing with Tessa his desires, and maybe they try it out but its a mess because Rustin loves Roddy too much to share him, Tessa sees Roddy's own feelings for Rust up close and personal, and she talks some sense into Roddy about what his heart really wants.

3. (my favorite) Roddy is unsuccessful in restoring Avavar, the wedding happens but he doesn't consumate, convincing Tessa it will only wait until he gets Anavar back. Months pass, Tessa grows distant, alone and withering Roddy finally succeeds with Anavar and reinstates him at verein, then graces Rustin with a surprise visit where he reveals to him and him alone that he kept the Still, which of course drives Rustin up the wall, and with Roddy understanding his feelings a little better they spend a night together like old times, growing closer, until some time later when they're in Ghanz and Roddy asks Rust to stay with him after fully laying down the Still for him there.

so yeah i've thought about this a totally healthy amount :) i dont see any possible outcome where they dont inevitably gravitate back towards each other, even if its messy and everyone between them gets hurt in the process. and i'd love to hear if you personally have any different thoughts! i feel like the ending was open to so many possibilities, which has been the source of my unending agony, but also has made it really interesting to try and figure out how their future could possibly play out.

[oxy-daisy]

Coffee at 7th and Main:

The golden sunlight illuminates the stone steps of the Art Museum, and on my way into the building I pass people taking pictures of the sunset. As I walk through the doors I had walked through as a child, I find the reception desk, and get a ticket.

"Hi Olivia, nice to see you back,” the receptionist says to me with a smile.

“Nice to see you too,” I headed to the coat room. There I drop off my leather bomber jacket and take a look in the mirror to make sure my light brown hair isn't a mess. My pale face has a rosy blush from the cool air outside.

I've done this before. Museum for an afternoon, get dinner in the cafe, leave before closing, and walk back to my family's townhome near the museum. Until now I had only really been in the summer, not autumn. I check my coat in and find my way to the first gallery.

The whole building is made of marble and stone, and is built to emulate Ancient Greek architecture. I find the history of furniture interesting, so that exhibit has become a staple of my evening visits. I breeze through the furniture and move across the main hall to the sculpture garden. Quite possibly my favorite part of the visit, I get to see sculptures of all different kinds of people. I like looking at different sculptures of women, ones that look like me, and ones that don't. I spend as much time as I'd like here. My stomach rumbles as I look at Degas’ ballerina which signals my turn to the cafe.

During the week there are not many people in the art museum cafe. A grab and go sandwich stifles my hunger. Fizzy lemonade washes it down. My favorite part of the meal is the chocolate chip cookie at the end. I flip through art pamphlets as I eat, but really enjoy watching other people in the cafe. I find myself daydreaming of who they are and what they could be doing on a Thursday night at an art museum. Truth being they are likely wondering the same thing about me.

Once I finish my dinner I walk through the corridor, past the medieval armor, to the paintings. The museum I go to has a section of prints, so they can capture famous paintings through history. I stop first at the ever popular Mona Lisa. I look into her eyes and she gazes back at me. I can't tell if she is smiling or frowning, happy or upset. The colors seem sad but her face seems almost content. Her eyes follow me as I cross the room, almost as if she is a real person who is watching me, analyzing my every move, and trying to get a read on me. A few paintings down is A Sunday on La Grande Jatte, or more famously known as the Ferris Buller painting. Of course I recreate the scene, standing far away from the painting then really close to see all the little dots. I stood so close the tip of my rosy nose was just barely off the glass frame.

Abruptly, my vision swirls, like the movement of a hypnosis swirl, and the air changes from the cool air conditioned museum to that of a warm spring day. Birds' song touches my ears as if I were out by a river, and the sound of people conversing meets me as I come back to a state of consciousness. At first the light is intense, but it settles in the shade of a tree. I am sitting next to a woman wearing a red blouse and a pink skirt. She is holding a parasol to shade her pale skin and dark hair from the sun nearby. I find myself wearing different clothes than before, I used to be in a long sleeved t-shirt, black pants, and doc martin boots. Now I am in a dark top with a yellow skirt, I have my hair braided and draped over my shoulder. I am holding a small bouquet of flowers. The woman next to me is gazing off towards a river where the sunlight glistens. I turn to my left and there is a woman dressed just like the lady next to me, but she is wearing black and is holding a black parasol.

“Is that lady taking a monkey for a walk?” I ask before I realize what I've just said.

The woman next to me turns, and examines the lady in black, then says “Yes, but stop staring.” She immediately turns to face me, “It is extremely rude, Eliza,” my name is Olivia, not Eliza.

“I must be dreaming,” I simply cannot believe what is going on, “No way."

“What's wrong Eliza? You know that Mrs. and Mr. Thomas love that monkey. They walk it here every Sunday afternoon.”

“She's from the painting,” I look around, and sure enough there is the man laying down propped on his arms, dogs running around, a lady in red with her child, and boats on the river. This is the scene from the painting I was just looking at.

“What painting? You sound crazy,” she looks as confused as I feel.

“This… this isn't right. I shouldn't be here.” I find my footing and get up. “I am so sorry, but I have to go. I have to get back home to my family.” I start to run. I run so far. I run to the point where all the little dots would disappear into a fuzzy mist. I run where there is nowhere to run anymore.

Then I stop, out of breath, exhausted. I lay down under the tree in the soft green grass. Nobody is here. It is just me, the hills in the distance, the river, and the trees. I lay there for some time before deciding to get up.

Slowly and carefully, I make my way to the water. I look at the small bouquet of flowers in my hands and sigh. “What am I going to do?” I say to myself aloud. “My parents, my brother and sister, they're going to miss me. I'm going to miss them too.”

I toss the bouquet into the water and shout “God! Why would you do this to me?” I take a deep breath, holding back tears, “Why… I was just… just doing what I'd always done. Now, look what that got me.” If there was anyone else around I would look crazy, mad, insane, and all other terms to think of for someone who has lost their mind. The bouquet floats slowly down the river, getting further and further from me.

Keeping some sense of determination, I keep walking away from the front of the painting. I just keep going, along the river, into the mist. Surely there is an end to the painting, a wall, or something. It felt like ages, like the walking would never end, never ever. The landscape slowly transformed from a forest to an open grassland meeting the river, the width of the river kept getting smaller and smaller, to the point where it was like the trenches of water I dug as a child from the ocean up to the spot where we sat on the beach, to the point where it was no longer there. It was just sky and ground, going on indefinitely. I didn't trust it. Going that way wouldn't solve my problem. So I turned, and made my way back to the front of the painting.

Paintings never really end, do they? I realize. I walk slowly to conserve my energy. The river reappears, so do the trees, hills, boats, people, animals, the lady in red with her child, the lady in black with the monkey, the woman who called me Eliza, and the painting became again what it was before. So if I came in through the front, I'll go out that way.

Much the same to what I experienced coming in, I experienced going out. Swirling unconsciousness, a slight ringing in my ears, and coming back to the cool museum air. Relief washes over my body, from my head to my toes. That was crazy, I was trapped in a painting, an oil painting, an oil painting with real people. That was crazy.

Wondering if I could do the same thing in another painting, I walked over to Frida Kahlo's Wounded Deer painting. Looking at it makes me feel deep sorrow. I do the same thing as before. The same sensation as before consumes me in transition. I find myself instantly face to face with Frida Kahlo's head, adorned with antlers, on the deer's body. Arrows impaling her body. Blood trickling from the puncture wounds. She sees me and tries to run but can't. She is stuck. Stuck like I just was, like I am again.

It hurts to watch her suffer. Why would I choose to go into such a depressing and sorrowful painting? Maybe something about it resonates with me. I'm honestly not sure. I walk backwards into the front of the painting, leaving the wounded deer there, suffering, bleeding, dying. Warm, the tear rolls down my cheek, hits my chin, then falls to the floor. I wipe the tear from my face with the back of my hand.

I move on, and visit other artists I like, Van Gough's Starry Night, Monet's Bridge, Mary Cassat's Little Girl in a Blue Armchair. After my last visit with Johannes Venneir's girl with the pearl earrings I decided to go back to the museum. Distraught, I notice the lights are turned off. I check my watch, it's 10:36. Too long, way too long.

Oh no, I'm stuck again. First the painting, now the whole museum. Trying to think logically I make my way to the front of the museum, but nobody is there. Not a soul, not a mouse, not an insect, not even the comfort of people from paintings around.

I walk to the coatroom and grab my jacket and put it on, then go to a window facing the outside of the building. It is not much higher off the ground than the window on the first floor of the townhome. I look out at the street where there is just one person coming my way. She has long curly blonde hair, and clear glasses. She has a brown backpack that looks like she was coming back late from studying. Hoping that she didn't see me. I sit down, my back against the wall, willfully out of her view. I pull out my phone, to check my messages, or call someone. It doesn't turn on. “Great,” I mutter softly to myself.

Clang, clang, clang. The familiar and almost comic sound of spray paint being shaken. As I peak out the window I can see the same girl spray painting the side of the building. Her backpack is sat down next to her, wide open, revealing cans of spray paint. I turn back around.

Maybe… if I can go into regular paintings, I can go into street paintings too.

I wait for her to finish, which ends up taking longer than I anticipated, and then lean back against the wall. I will myself through the wall, anxious for the sensation I had become familiar with, and when it washes over me again, I am filled with joy. I am now in the back of the painting, I walk to the front around lines that make up a form I am unaware of. Then I find the front of the painting. I will myself through again, and stumble onto the pavement in front of me.

I find myself face to face with the girl from earlier.

“How… what the…” She is shocked, her mouth is gaping open, her eyebrows knotted, searching for an explanation.

“Honestly I don't know either,” I say, and I turn around to see what she painted on the museum wall. It's a child running away from the window with a trail of butterflies following him. “That's beautiful,” I say to her.

“Thank you,” My eyes meet her beautiful dark green eyes, we are both equally confused and in awe of each other. I don't know if I should explain to her what happened, how I got trapped in the museum, why I was there, how fortunate I am that she was painting in this particular spot.

“Do you want to hear how I did that?” I ask, still unsure of what to do.

“Obviously,” she says, somewhat excited.

“Ok well, how about I meet you for coffee tomorrow morning? Corner of 7th and main at 6:30?”

“Sure, I'll see you then.” With one last nod, I turn away from her, and start back to my home.

[undertale-writing-times]

Hi can I request ut uf us skelebros+error and fresh with a s/o with vitiligo I have vitiligo so I won't to know how they react. oh else have a wonderful day😊

Dude. You're in my mind. I was just thinking about people with that! Ha, how fun.

Sans- To be honest, Sans wasn't ready for all the different skin colors that humans have. He loves it! Just a shocker. So when he met you and you had two skin colors? He thought you were interesting, he kind of wants to see what causes it. If you know and explain it to him, he'll be happy. He loves to trace his finger along some of your 'spots' which he calls it. He loves your skin tone, it might be his favorite part of you.

Papyrus- Papyrus thinks that you're beautiful! He loves your markings, and thinks that it means that you're powerful, since humans have... tattoos, right? You'd have to explain to him that no, they're not tattoos at all, but markings your body caused. He'd still think it's cool! He has the most beautiful and wonderful datemate!

Blueberry- Just like Papyrus, he thinks that your markings are very interesting, and he loves to study them and see all of the spots that you have. He wonders why not everyone have those spots? But at least with the other people not having the same markings as you, it makes you very interesting to him and he thinks you're one of a kind! Even if other people have the same markings, they won't have the same exact ones.

Stretch- You remind him of a person from a comic that he really likes, which he keeps to himself at first, but if you're ever upset about your markings, he'll show you the comic and say that that person was his favorite, and it's the truth! He loves people with 'strange' skin tones. He just finds them really cool to look at. He'll often get you clothes that show off the markings more because he just likes to see it.

Red- Why should Red care about your damn markings? Sure, they look really cool and he thinks it makes you look beautiful in a way and he really wishes he could see all of the markings but... wait what was he saying? Ugh stop asking him stupid questions! Hehe I'm messing. He likes the markings that you have, but he won't say that he likes them even if you ask. He's not good with this emotion thing, man.

Edge- Edge loves to show off any of the datemates that he got. You're one of his... first datemates but... still! He enjoys to show you off even more because of the markings that you had over your body. He believes that they make you interesting to look at, and better than all the other humans!! If you don't like your marks, he'd be confused because why don't you like it? He thinks it's amazing... why don't you?

Error- To be honest, he's one of the only ones that don't really care. It's markings on your skin, so what?

Fresh- To him? You look real fresh. You're all that and a bag of chips to him, and he's so happy he's with you. Well as happy as he could be, not having emotions and all -w-' when he first met you he stared then asked "ey yo, what's all up with the markings, my homey? You look real dank" who woulda guessed he would think of you as so dope! If you want to be his friend, he'd be down, and would often trace his finger along your spots or patches or whatever you have, mostly when he's lost in thought.

[shoutoismybaby]

Omega Shame Part 1

Summary: After spending most of your life on suppressants and ignoring your second gender, you finally decide to embrace who you are with your alphas support. But what happens when your alpha Bakugou walks in on you nesting and sparks memories of your past trauma?

warnings: ABO, Nesting, ANGST ending with fluff,

***

Nesting. This was something you hadn't even attempted since you were but a small pup. Both suppressants and fear had kept any desire for this activity far away from you, until a couple months ago. That was when you got a courting proposal, your first ever.

It was a necklace, and not just your typical alphas 'just learned how to make jewelry with string'. No. This necklace required welding, a skill you had no idea about, but that just made sense for your alpha to poses. The chain was a simple silver, leading down to a locket with intricate holes on its top layer, creating an almost explosive like design. The cloth that sat inside was a ruby red color that matched the alphas eyes, and the scent it held was strong of caramel and ash.

Of course if Bakugou was to make a courting gift, his was going to be the best you had ever seen.

You had wasted no time in placing the necklace around your neck, relaxing as his scent filled your nose. It was from this point that you knew Bakugou would make an amazing alpha for you. After all, if he put so much effort into the courting gift, you could only imagine the effort he would put into courting you. Even then in typical Bakugou fashion, he passed all expectations.

It started with the way he would make you lunches, walk you to wherever you needed to go, and made sure to give you a thorough scenting only after he got permission. He always showed concern for your physical and mental wellbeing, stopping you from pushing yourself too hard in training and even scolding you for your self deprecating jokes.

“No one gets to talk down about my omega. Especially not my omega.” He had growled at you once. Again Bakugou did something unexpected, making your omega purr at a growl.

It felt so nice to have someone who cared about you. Someone who encouraged you to stop hiding your second gender from everyone but those in your own class. Not that you had even let your class discover on purpose, but the stressful situations class A had gotten in over the years did wonders for wearing off suppressants and scent blockers. 

He, along with your other classmates, had been building up your confidence in your secondary sex for years now. Bringing you to the realization that being an omega didn't mean that you were weak or any less than betas or alphas. Momo and Ochako were omegas after all, and they were some of the strongest people you knew. So once you had gotten an alpha your omega was basically begging to be set free, and you didn't feel like you had to deny it anymore.

So here you were, after 3 months of being off of the medications your hormones and instincts were finally leveling back to normal. It was something you had never experienced before, but you had Bakugou to help support you along the way. That's why you needed his scent in your nest. No matter how nauseous you felt walking into the young alphas room while you knew he was training, your omega refused to continue the day without at least one peice of his clothing. More than that and you were sure you would be sent into a panic attack. You had no idea how he would react to you doing this. Would he be disgusted? Angry?

Ironically the only thing calming your thoughts was to continue building the nest. Pillows upon pillows methodically shoved between various stuffed animals and blankets became nest shaped as the time passed. Soon enough you were left with just one item left, one of his favorite skull shirts. You had wanted to take something he would miss less, but they weren’t drowned in his scent like this one was. You sat back into the middle of your nest to take a thorough look around. You didn’t want to take too long to decide a place for it by now as you were getting tired. Not to mention you were going to go out on a movie date with Bakugou so you also needed to get ready for that. You would have checked the time if you weren’t so fixated on your task, and that would turn out to be a huge mistake.

You had finally found the perfect place for his shirt when you heard your door open from behind you. In the middle of slipping the clothing item over your pillow you froze as your heart began to race. Your omega knew it was an alpha before you knew who it was and she let out a chirp before you could stop it.

All you could remember was the first time this had happened, an Alpha walking in on your nest. You were seven, not old enough to even present as an omega but tendencies could show early in childhood. You were excited and happily humming as you arranged your blankets, stuffed animals, and your parents best smelling clothes into small yet sturdy walls in the shape of an oval on your bed. You couldn’t help but feel safe, like you would no longer fall off your bed in the middle of the night, or that monsters or other intruders would quickly avoid hurting you once they got just a single sniff of your parents alpha scents. You were proud when you were finished and immediately snuggled into it for a nap, only to wake up to the scent of rotting eggs. A clear indicator your father was both near and very angry. All the yelling and trashing of your hard work that happened next was just a blur. But you could remember how you felt the entire time so vividly. The way your lungs seemed incapable of taking in air, the trembling of your hands and especially the weakness in your knees. Most of all, you remembered the absolute terror as your safe space was invaded. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as fast as your heart would allow it, and you could only sit back and watch.

It was that day that you first became aware that there was something wrong with you. Something gross, weak, and worth hating.

That’s why even when the scent of Bakugou filled your nose, your heart still didn’t slow down. In fact, it only sped up when you finally turned around to look at him, all of the hope you had gotten by convincing yourself he would be happy you were embracing yourself quickly diminishing. His brows furrowed more than normal and his mouth was set in a deep scowl, slightly open just enough that his naturally large canines poked out.

He was angry.

“Do you not know how to answer your fucking phone?! You were so eager to force me to agree to this date and then you don't even respond when I-” Your thoughts were racing far too fast to actually hear what he was saying. Your omega could only think of one thing, your alpha was angry with you. You messed up and now he was angry with you. It was just like your parents, you should have listened to them when they told you it was stupid to nest.

But you had worked so hard on it, and it made you feel so good. You didn’t want your nest to be torn apart again. The smell of smoke wafted from the alphas' palms as you were too caught up in your memories to really hear him. Hear how he was angry with you for forgetting about your date, angry that you had stood him up and too busy being upset to even notice that you were sitting in a nest. The smell of smoke invoked just another event in your mind, one that happened when you had first presented as an omega at 13. Something that caused the damn behind your eyes to finally break.

“PLEASE DON’T DESTROY MY NEST” You Omega sobbed, distressed chips flooding from your chest like air. “Please, please!”

Your outburst startled the Alpha into silence. He could only stand there and watch as his omegas scent was filled with fear as she wiped at her eyes aggressively. A first he was confused, letting his body pump out comfort pheromones instinctually as he let himself observe the situation. You were dressed only in your school uniform, clearly having been building the nest that surrounded you from the time you entered the dorm room to when he had burst into your room, now far past dark. You were trembling too, body curled up in on itself as you hiccupped and begged.

“Please, I'm sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorryyy! Just please dont destroy my nest.” Your voice cracked and it resonated painfully in his ear and his heart dropped. Why did you think he would destroy your nest? Sure he wasn't the best alpha but he wasn’t a monster. Did you really think he would destroy the one place where you felt safest? A weight grew in his chest that left as a deep growl,

“Here.” He growled, “Probably best if we just end this bullshit.”

This was all your fault. If you hadnt built this stupid nest in the first place, or even started crying like a fucking baby then this wouldnt have happened. But you were a weak omega, and just like your parents said, no one can love someone so weak. Especially not someone as powerful as Katsuki. You shouldn’t have let yourself believe that they were wrong for even a second. You had thought that Bakugou would be the one who would love you for who you truly were. But that was naive. No one could love such a burden. No one could love you.

The drop of the crafted bracelet to the ground seconds before your door slammed, leaving you alone once more in your room, proof enough of that.

Your parents were right.

A flame of anger lit in your chest. Why were you so unloveable just the way you were? Why couldn’t you just be different? Why couldn’t you be an alpha like your parents had wanted?

You could feel your nails extend into claws as the hair on your body raised. You glared at the soft material weaved together around you as hot tears built up behind your eyes. This time instead of being fueled by fear they were fueled by rage and resentment.

You were so angry. So angry at youself, at your weak omega, and especially at your stupid nest. You couldn't help but let a couple tears fall as you let your anger get the best of you, and you didn't stop it until you were heaving in the middle of your disaster of a room. Surrounded by torn pieces of fabric and the other contents of your room scattered by your tantrum, you finally let yourself breath. 

You turned around to see the item you had been avoiding, your pillow with bakugou's shirt. With a deep breath you grabbed a hold of the object, digging your claws into its plush softness. The caramel ash smell that permeated the air only helped to break down the remaining bits of your anger. And you didn’t want to be left alone with your despair just yet.

With the release of your breath a ripping sound could be heard. The shirt split and cotton popped out from the opening like popcorn. Once you had successfully dissected what had been a comfort item you threw it somewhere away from you and took another deep breath.

Now you were finally alone. Just you and your reality. You could really feel how much pain your omega was in as your hair began to lower and your normal nails returned. You had heard about this pain before. A deep one in your chest, heartbreak. Your omega seemed to curl around that feeling. Of rejection. Self hatred. That no one would ever need you, let alone want you. You could feel yourself start to slip into the limbo of numbness and searing pain.

An Omega Depression.

You remembered learning about it back when you were in middle school, most people were beginning to present as their second sex. Your teachers had emphasized how important it was to get medical attention at the first signs, you knew how dangerous it was, but all you wanted to do was lay there on the floor. You were tired, and what was the point? No one cared about you, not your parents… not Bakugou. Your throat strained painfully at that thought. Bakugou didn’t want you, and it was your fault.

[itsclydebitches]

Why do people get hung up on whether a gay person in media is a good or bad representation of them? I'm gay and I can tell you we aren't all the same? Being gay is our 1 common trait. So as long as they're gay then you've done it. Gay people can be kind, mean, racist, open, kinky, reserved, shy, outgoing, sexist, and literally anything else under the human experience.

Because I am perpetually hungry, let's tell a story about cookies.

You are a bright-eyed, optimistic, baker in the making. Your goal is to wow the world with your culinary skills, so of course you head to The Best Baking School for your degree. Over the course of your studies you learn how to perfect a thousand different cakes, an equal number of pies, and more versions of brownies than most would even assume exist. But cookies... oh, cookies are your passion! You can't wait to learn about the wealth of cookies you can make too. Then, sure enough, that part of your education finally arrives.

Funny thing is though, it's just chocolate chip.

Surely there's been some mistake? The cookie experience is vast and nuanced! Why in the world are your instructors — supposedly the best in the world — reducing cookies to a single class about baking chocolate chip and chocolate chip alone? Hell, why are cookies so sparse in the curriculum as a whole? You're never asked to bake them as a demonstration, or practice with them, and they're definitely not a given across everyone else's baking experience. Cakes, pies, and brownies... they're the default. Cookies are comparatively rare and when you do get to study them, everyone is super focused on the chocolate chip.

Then you graduate and head out into the world, only to find that pretty much everyone is as cookie-blind as your school. A few years back you never would have found cookies in the average grocery store and yeah, the fact that there's a cookie section now is great, but it's, uh... all chocolate chip! Many bakeries still don't carry cookies at all, but when they do it's - again - chocolate chip. Chocolate chip out in restaurants. Chocolate chip at the bake sale. Your friend invites you over and proudly presents a massive sweets tray that includes a single, sad looking, chocolate chip cookie. They beam at you in pride. Isn't it so great?

"Uh..." you say. "Well..."

Every once in a while someone will switch out milk chocolate for dark chocolate, or add nuts alongside chocolate chips. One bakery was even crazy enough to exclude chocolate chips entirely! Crazy according to the press, anyway. Because for years now you've been shaking your head, wondering what exactly is so progressive about realizing that sugar cookies exist. You've found other bakers interested in cookies and, by god, there are thousands. So many flavors! Gluten free and allergy conscious! Someone even made a sweets tray that was predominantly cookies, can you believe it? The problem is, almost none of them are mainstream. Your friend baking cookies out of their personal kitchen is doing fantastic work, but their baking doesn't have the impact that those grocery chains and established bakeries do. Their work isn't going to fix your school's curriculum. Too many people still think that cookies are exotic somehow. They're not the default. And when they do acknowledge their existence, it's chocolate chip over and over. Until one of them adds those nuts and suddenly the whole country is losing its mind about how inspired, creative, progressive their baking is. Meanwhile, you're ready to scream because that baker doesn't even know that something as "exotic" as a gingersnaps exist!

The worst part? Most of these cookies are... bad. Like they exist, yeah, but good god most don't taste good. And that's the whole point of a cookie?? What is the point of buying cookies if the cookies themselves are awful? You go to these bakeries, these restaurants, your friend's house, and you try the very limited cookies on offer, only to find that they've been sloppily baked. Doesn't anyone care that the baker burned their cookies to a crisp? That another straight up forgot to add sugar? This one dropped his on the floor and still tried to serve it to you! But the overall sense is that you should be grateful for getting any cookies at all. "That cookie is an offense to my taste buds," you say and people shake their head at you, disappointed. "I liked the taste of it," one says. "If you don't like it, go buy a different cookie!" Well... easier said than done. "It's not that bad," another says, shrugging in defeat. "I mean yeah, I don't really like it, and the baker stopped making them two years ago... but I'm just happy to have had any cookie at all, you know?" You do know, but that doesn't mean it's any less frustrating. You look at the hundreds of cakes available, these bakers spending decades perfecting their recipes, and wish cookies had even a fraction of that work put into them. You find people who agree with you, absolutely, but there's this this prevailing sense that a cookie is a cookie. Any cookie will do. Supposedly.

Except go long enough and you feel like you're ready to lose your mind. You take some poor person by the shoulders and go, "Doesn't this bother you? Doesn't this make you furious? There is more to the cookie world than these three flavors, 90% of which is chocolate chip! And we deserve well-made cookies, not the crap they've been upholding as the next culinary masterpiece!"

But this person just shakes their head. "Well of course there's more to cookies than three flavors. There's a huge variety of cookies! I know that."

"Yes, but the world isn't selling that variety."

"Of course they are! Just last week I had an oatmeal raisin. That's amazing!"

"Yeah and how many years did it take you to find that?"

"Well..."

"And how did that oatmeal raisin cookie taste?"

Your prisoner pulls a face. "Ugh, not good. Oatmeal raisin is definitely not for me. It's hard as a rock! I really don't understand why someone would want to eat that on a regular basis."

"But it's not supposed to be hard as a rock!" you cry, waving your arms. "That's the problem! Oatmeal raisin is so goddamn rare and then the one time we get it, it was badly baked. Of course people are turned off by it. Everyone who already loves oatmeal raisin is getting pissed because their favorite cookie is misrepresented, they're unlikely to see more of them now, and everyone is still serving the most tasteless chocolate chip cookies I've ever had, acting like this is the pinnacle of cookie baking! Do you even know that a macron exists?"

The person pats your hand consolingly. "Of course I do. My roommate's sister's boyfriend used to bake macrons, you know. I don't know why you're so hung up on this. Cookies can be whatever the baker wants them to be. Provided they're a flat-ish sweet cake, they're still a cookie!"

You hang your head, giving up. "Yes, they can be so many things, but they're not. Let me know if you ever find a bakery actually making the variety you keep acknowledging exists. Bonus points if those cookies are edible. My soul if they're delicious, as a cookie should be."

"You know," they say, still patting your hand. "There's a bakery making chocolate chip with dark chocolate next year. Everyone is talking about it. You should think about buying one before they take it off the menu!"

You contemplate just walking into the ocean.

Now, incredibly long metaphor concluded... switch out "cookies" for "queer rep"! The representation matters because no, just making them gay isn't enough right now. You're right that queer people can be anything under the sun, but right now media isn't providing us with that variety. It's not enough to acknowledge that such variety exists, it actually has to make it into our books and onto our screen. Taking just characters who identify as gay and putting aside the HUGE variety of other identities for a moment (of which we are mostly lacking in terms of rep), where are the gay asexuals? The gay people of color? The disabled gays? Trans gays? Did your gay character appear for just a handful of episodes? Were they killed off? Are they nothing more than a stereotype or comic relief? Is this the only gay character in your entire story? We need to ask questions like this because though gay people can be anything under the sun, our media landscape has only shown a miniscule portion of that variety.

Today, even in 2021, our representation of gay people is still pretty limited to:

You are only coded as gay and evil

You are only coded as gay and queerbaited

You are canonically gay, but a cis, ablebodied, white person

You are canonically gay, but were written terribly/killed off/punished by the narrative/generally making the real gay people watching you feel awful about their identity

You are canonically gay, but you're not human. Gotta other the queerness by making you an alien/robot/fantasy being

You are canonically gay and that's your entire existence. There is one (1) narrative of how you knew by the time you were four, never questioned your identity after that, suffered through a family that rejected you, and now all your major arcs revolve around being gay. You are gay and that is it.

Despite being a list of six, that's still incredibly limiting. Are there exceptions to such a list? Always, but that doesn't mean the list isn't still dominating. We can look at any individual gay character and say, "Of course they can be evil/white/killed off/a joke/etc. because gay people can be anything at all," but when we look at the trends, when we look at ALL the media together, we see that gay people aren't actually depicted as being anything... they're depicted as being these handful of things, severely limiting how gayness is represented. Bad rep. If you hit up the bakery and question why there's only versions of chocolate chip available yeah, the baker can go, "But cookies can be any flavor! Including chocolate chip!" They are not, technically, wrong. The problem is not that chocolate chip exists, but that chocolate chip dominates and other flavors are rare, ignored entirely, or baked so badly it's actively damaging to that flavor as a whole. Yeah, your gay character can be mean. Or kinky. Or murdered by the story. But when so many gay characters are mean and kinky and murdered by their stories — when you're not getting other versions to balance that out and gay characters are still rare enough that it's just 1-2 characters trying to carry representation for an entire franchise — you start realizing that the claim of "Gay people can be anything else under the human experience" is an easy way to shut down the conversation of whether that variety actually exists in our storytelling yet.

It's not enough for the baker to acknowledge that yeah, of course there are hundreds of cookie flavors and of course cookies taste great! They've actually got to learn how to bake them properly and fill up their store with them.

[tellmealovestory]

Cake

Summary: The wedding plans continue as you and Bucky try to decide on a cake flavor.

Notes: It’s been awhile and I’m a little rusty. Part of Something More.

Warnings: Food mentions obviously, but other than that none.

“Bucky!” You laughed, nudging his knee beneath the table. “You’re supposed to share that.”

Mouth full with red velvet cake and cream cheese frosting didn’t stop him from answering. “Maybe you should eat it faster.”

“It’s not a competition.”

“You sure about that?” A goofy grin on his face, a dab of white frosting stuck to the corner of his mouth and you couldn’t believe this was the man child you were about to spend the rest of your life with.

You couldn’t wait.

Lightly swatting his hand away from the sliver of a sample he had left you with you scooped the red velvet cake onto your fork, popping it into your mouth and chewing thoughtfully as you tried to figure out if you liked it more or less than the previous sample; a simple vanilla bean cake that had left your mouth watering when you paired it with the best buttercream frosting you had ever tasted.

Without waiting for you or Ava, your expert baker to explain the next sample he dived into the next piece, a carrot cake paired with the same cream cheese frosting you were giving serious consideration to marrying if your marriage with Bucky didn't work out.

“Yes I’m sure,” you laughed, answering his question. “We’re supposed to be taking our time and keeping track of what we like and don’t like.” You gestured down to the small spiral notebook that rested between your elbows. Two neat columns with a pros and cons list for each of the samples you were working your way through.

So far the only thing written down was a note of no written in Bucky’s messy handwriting next to the mint chocolate chip cake. And next to that in an even sloppier scrawl were the words tastes like toothpaste.

It hadn’t of course, but no matter how much you had tried to convince him of it the mint chocolate cake was out.

“Hard to keep track when all you’re doing is eating the frosting,” he teased, leaning back into the chair, a self satisfied smirk on his face before he thought to add, “Carrot cakes a no.”

Ignoring him you took a sip of water before trying it. Warm spices burst onto your tongue reminding you of autumn days with him by your side and when you bit into a plump raisin you knew that this cake had serious potential of being the one. Closing your eyes for a second you let the spices dance on your tongue as you cut off another sliver.

Carrot cake at a wedding was a polarizing option, but you were willing to take that chance with this piece. It was that good.

“I’m eating more than just the frosting,” you retorted once you swallowed your second bite of cake. It was mostly true.

When you had first started the first bites you had taken were of the frosting, but in your mind it was the best part of the dessert. Whipped frostings, American buttercream, cream cheese, ganache, you weren’t picky. You had always been that way, anytime you went out with Bucky and split a dessert you always dove into the frosting first while he worked his way through the filling. But this wasn't just any dessert, this was your wedding cake, a day you had been thinking about non stop since he had proposed to you on that random Tuesday night. And once you had bit into one of Ava's creations you had been unable to stop eating the cake, each sample somehow better than the last.

“I think the carrot cake has potential and with the cream cheese frosting it could be a hi-,” you started, words getting cut off with a laugh when you turned to Bucky who was shaking his head no, an exaggerated frown on his face.

“Baby, no,” he whined as he set his fork down on the plate with a soft clink. “Nobody likes raisins.”

Parting your lips to interject that you liked raisins, he beat you to it, “‘Cept you. You really wanna serve our friends and family a cake full of raisins?”

Ava interjected, a woman with the patience of a saint when it came to dealing with you and your varied tastes said, "We can omit the raisins. Some people choose to fill it with pineapple and walnuts." Pushing her glasses up her small nose she glanced between you searching for a compromise that would please not only both of you, but also your wedding guests. She was good at her job and as her words sank in you wondered how much extra you'd have to pay her to have her come over and settle your movie night disputes.

At the mention of juicy pineapples and the added crunch of walnuts in an already delicious cake your mouth watered, but Bucky was quick to shut that suggestion down too.

“Nut allergies.”

"You're not allergic to nuts. What about the pineapple at least?"

"What about our guests? No.”

Chewing on your lower lip you knew that he was right, something you weren't thrilled about telling him, but you also knew that it was possible to still have it without adding the nuts or pineapple or even raisins that he was set against.

You had never thought that trying to find a cake for the wedding would be so complicated. Not only did you have to think about yours and Bucky's likes and dislikes, but you also had to take into account potential food allergies of your guests as well as trying to find something that would please the majority if not everyone.

Ava jotted down a quick note and cleared her throat sensing that the carrot cake was a no go even if you weren't ready to give up. Pointing down to the next sample and explaining what it was you half listened, grabbing your pen and in big letters that took up a quarter of the page you wrote yes next to the carrot cake.

“For someone who said they didn’t care about the wedding planning you sure have a lot of opinions, Bucky.”

He chuckled, the tone low and meant only for you he murmured, “What can I say. Picking out a cake is a lot more interesting than choosing silverware and thinking up wedding favors.” Leaning over he pressed his sugar coated lips to the side of our head in a kiss that was as sweet as the frosting you had been inhaling all afternoon.

The last sample lined up was a confetti cake bursting with the bright colors of greens, reds, pinks, oranges, yellows and blues. The small rectangle that sat on the plate made you feel happy just looking at, not even Bucky's amused expression, smirk curling up those stupidly plump lips of his or the memory of the way he had teased you when you first suggested this, asking if this was for your wedding or tenth birthday party could dampen your spirits. Eagerly diving into the piece your eyes closed in bliss and immediately you knew. This was the one.

And even better was the way that Bucky was nodding his head as he swallowed his bite. Finally you thought, a piece that you both had managed to agree on.

Ava beamed a smile at you seeming to know that after an hour of tasting and years in the business the difficult part of her job was almost over. Shuffling through a pile of papers and photographs she slid over a few glossy photos showing the same cake you were eating in different iterations. Naked with minimal frosting, coated in rainbow sprinkles, fondant flowers cascading down the side even one covered in a thick layer of fondant topped with two macarons on top.

"It's not bad," Bucky settled on, popping the last few crumbs into his mouth.

"Could this be the one?" Ava asked, pen poised over her pad, ready to finalize the details.

Licking the frosting from your lips you turned your attention to Bucky. A silent conversation was had, a perk to having known each other most of your lives.

Mentally you went over one more time the samples you had indulged in.

The carrot cake and mint chocolate chip cake were out despite your best attempts at getting him to change his mind. The vanilla bean cake had been simple, but delicious, an instant crowd pleaser as had the red velvet cake, one that had been so moist it had melted as soon as it touched your tongue, much like the double chocolate cake. And there had been the last one and so far your personal favorite, the confetti cake.

The silent conversation stretched on, Ava sat still, pen still poised above her pad before clearing her throat and suggesting, "Of course you don't have to decide today, but the sooner the better."

A shrug of your shoulders as you left the decision up to Bucky.

"We've decided." Mischief danced in his eyes and curled his lips up into a smirk that screamed trouble. “The cream cheese frosting.”

“Excellent choice,” Ava praised, “Which cake are we pairing this with?”

Turning that mischievous look in your direction and with a straight face nonetheless he managed to say, “No cake. Just the frosting.”

Whatever you had thought he was going to say it wasn’t that. Ava had the decency to look bewildered, glancing between you, the poor woman’s expression growing more confused the longer it took you to find your thoughts.

“Bucky!” You spat out, hand slapping his shoulder. Choking back a laugh and willing your face to stop burning you tried to find the words to apologize on behalf of this man child.

For a beat that felt more like an eternity nobody said anything.

“That not what we agreed on?” Bucky asked, his question caused your face to warm to temperatures that rivaled that of hot lava. Beneath the table you kicked at his ankles while thinking of the numerous ways you were going to get him back for this as soon as you left.

“I’m so sorry. That is not what we agreed on.”

Ava was still flustered, but trying her best to appear professional.

“Possible to get extra frosting on the cake?” Bucky asked and for a brief second he seemed to be taking this more seriously.

A quick nod of her head and she jotted it down, underlining it twice. “We can do that, of course it will be extra.”

“The more frosting the better. Wanna make sure there’s plenty when I feed you that first piece.” His mischievous smirk widened into a full blown smile and this time you didn’t hold back.

“James!” You tried to glare at him, but it faltered when that stupid, beautiful, man child turned his smile on you. “We talked about this and you are not shoving cake in my face.”

“We’ll see.”

For a second that felt more like an eternity your surroundings faded into the background when your gaze locked on his.

No longer could you hear the hustle and bustle of the bakery. No pans clanging as they slid in or out of ovens, no voices rising and falling, no bell jingling overhead as customers streamed in. Nor could you smell the sugar of frosting or the sweetness of the cake samples, no richness of freshly baked bread. Nor could you hear the sound of Ava’s pen tapping against her notepad in rhythmic short bursts.

All you could hear was the steady in and out of Bucky’s breath next to you, the low timbre of his voice when he murmured, “Sweetheart.” All you could see were those sparkling blue eyes of his as they searched yours. All you could feel was the gentleness of his touch when his fingers stroked across your still scorching cheek.

No longer was it you, Bucky and Ava sitting in a back room in a bakery in Brooklyn discussing cake options.

For a few blissful, brief seconds it was just you and Bucky, lost in one others gazes.

All too soon though you were being hurtled back to reality when Ava cleared her throat for the second time that day, breaking you both out of your trances. A knowing look rested on her face, one that you had come to recognize as the same one Natasha and Steve and both of your parents used to shine down on you when your stares lasted a little too long for just friends. A look that seemed to say they had never seen two people more meant for each other.

“Have you decided on a cake?” She asked in a not unkind way.

You got the feeling she was ready to be rid of you both and when Bucky’s hand searched out yours beneath the table, the light touch sending a thrill through you you couldn’t help but feel ready to leave and get him alone.

Another glance in his direction, another silent conversation.

Out of the samples you had tried there were only two you had been able to agree on whole heartedly. They’d not only be crowd pleasers, but you also wouldn’t have to worry about food allergies with them either.

The first was the confetti cake. Vanilla bursting with bright pops of color it had been light and airy, reminding you of his mom’s homemade cakes and all the hours you had spent sitting on their kitchen counters licking the spatulas clean of the batter and watching with rapt attention as she frosted the cake, always giving you the first slice much to Bucky’s annoyance. Paired with a thin layer of vanilla buttercream that Ava had mentioned would pair perfectly with champagne you had been sold after one bite. Even better was that he had seemed to enjoy it as much as you had.

The second had been a double chocolate cake smothered in ganache and that Ava said usually came sprinkled with chocolate shavings on top, every chocolate lovers dream she had said. It had melted on your tongue after the first bite and you swore you had never tasted a chocolate so rich before.

“We have,” Bucky said slowly and for the first time today taking it seriously. “We’ll do the chocolate cake.”

“Perfect!” Ava gushed, jotting it down as she bobbed her head.

As her and Bucky talked amongst themselves finalizing details and asking follow up questions you leaned against his side, mentally crossing another thing off on your wedding to do list as the date grew ever closer.

[azems-familiar]

7 for the Star Wars asks?

oh god you sure like asking the difficult ones don't you?

7. what’s your favorite fan art/work? (bonus: reblog and tag the creator if you can)

uhh fuck how am i supposed to answer this one? i've been active in the star wars fandom as a whole since 2017, when i got into rogue one fic, and i've bounced through sequels, prequels, tcw, and into kotor where i'm currently at since then. also rebels, but that's kinda a continuation of tcw... anyway, i'll link a few different ones in an attempt to showcase some of my all-time favorites, and you can always take a scroll through my bookmarks page on AO3, which is a small collection of some of my favorite fics from various fandoms!

the clone wars:

tell me no tales by seastruck, @reluctantcoppercrowds, who idk if they're still active on tumblr (last reblogged post is from 2020) but if they are i wanted to give them a shoutout! tell me no tales is a post-Order 66 codywan longfic in which Cody's chip malfunctioned and he's since become a spy for the Rebellion, in part trying to make up for killing Obi-Wan. it's a longfic, unfinished and slow updating, but sitting at 25/30 chapters and well worth the read even if another chapter never gets posted! (there has been a reunion, for the people wondering about that before they get started)

rogue one:

to treat everything as if it were a nail by thingswithteeth, whose tumblr i do not know (if anyone does feel free to tag them). this is a completed rebelcaptain longfic where Jyn was raised in the Empire; it's very very good and one i frequently go back to for rereads.

you give me something by skitzofreak, also tumblr unknown, also please tag if known - a rebelcaptain fic wherein Jyn joined the Rebellion after being abandoned by Saw and she meets Cassian on Jedha before/during the occupation. one of the things i really love about this particular author is they do an incredible amount of research that a) makes all their cultural things feel so rich and deep and b) makes their logistics stuff related to how the various star wars militaries and other structures work feel authentic and exactly like you've stepped into the gffa itself. all of their rogue one stuff is excellent, but this series is one of my favorites

kotor:

this lovely art by @tarrevizsla, which i have reblogged multiple times and will probably do again after this, because Revan my beloved + Mortis symbolism my beloved (honestly, just 90% of everything theo draws is wonderful, and i am not only saying that because we're mutuals and discord friends)

reckless, angry, empty series by @ipreferfiction, again i am not just saying this because we're mutuals/discord friends/write together etc, i legitimately love AC's writing style and her portrayal of Revan, and since i have a bit of insider knowledge on where the series is going i am Extremely Excited for it.

any of @stellorc's art - it's all beautiful and her use of colors and painting is just absolutely stunning.

swtor:

liminality by @sith-shenanigans - yes i've recced this before, i am not going to stop reccing it now, swtor novelizations are an Intense Commitment and this one is incredibly well written with the kind of deep lorebuilding that i strive for myself. all of the characters are my Beloveds, especially Orinara and Ahene, and i believe everyone should read it!

this absolutely stunning piece by @sleepswithvillains - warning, it is mildly NSFW, but it's of her Sith Warrior, Nora, and it's a digital oil painting that i am still mildly obsessed with. the detail, the colors, the softness of Nora's skin and hair... it's one of the best pieces of art i've ever seen and so i felt a Need to put it on here

[here4theheartbreak]

Rest, Relaxation... And Exploration

AO3 Link Here!

Collaboration with: @i-live-so-i-love Relationships: Junkook x Yoongi Genre: smut Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~5k

Tags: smut, friends to lovers, Nephilim Jungkook, monster/human Romance, mutual masturbation, handjobs, first kiss, getting together, tentacle monster, tentacles as erogenous spots

Summary: Jungkook knows that Yoongi needs a break, and wants to help him relax. He just hadn't planned on THAT kind of relaxing.

A/N: Written for @calixwrites - hope you enjoy!!

“Why are we doing this again?” Yoongi grumped, getting out of the car and squinting at the sunlight. 

Jungkook twisted and stretched as he stood up, trying to wake himself after the long drive. The day was almost warmer than he’d prefer but it was perfect for what he had planned. 

“Because you have been working too much in that tiny studio with no windows, no sunlight, and no fresh air for too long. You need some outdoor time,” Jungkook reminded him. 

“I’m allergic to sun and fresh air,” Yoongi deadpanned. 

Jungkook was used to Yoongi’s dry humor. He’d known him for years. Ever since he’d accidentally walked in on Jungkook in full Nephilim mode; all thirteen eyes and six tentacle-esque wings on display. Jungkook rarely had them out, even in private, but he’d been in a public bathroom trying to get his clothes and hair perfect for a date. And frankly, sometimes it was just easier with six extra appendages. 

He had been able to keep Yoongi from screaming and convinced him he wasn’t crazy. Originally, Jungkook had only meant to keep tabs on him so he didn’t try to run to the authorities, but somehow, he’d gotten a close friend out of it. A friend that, right now, desperately needed some fresh air and a good meal. 

“Hush and help me unpack,” Jungkook scolded.

Together they lugged it all up the stone steps in one go. (Tentacles really could be handy sometimes.) The beach house that Jungkook rented for cheap from a friend of a friend was small and tidy. One room served as the kitchen, dining room, and living room, plus a bathroom and a tiny bedroom. It would do for a night. The real benefit of the place was that it came with a quarter mile of private sandy beach. 

“I thought the point of this was to get me out of a tiny room?” Yoongi teased after they finished looking around. 

“it is. Which is why we’re going to lay out in the sun. Put some swim trunks on.” Jungkook beamed at his horrified expression. 

“I’ll burn to a crisp! We don’t all have your magical immunity to the sun, you know.”

“I packed you sunscreen. The strongest I could find. You’ll be just fine. And you get to do one your favorite things. Just with fresh air and sunlight.” 

Yoongi continued to look skeptical. Jungkook pouted. “Just give it a chance?”

Yoongi’s expression softened; Jungkook knew it would. The human couldn’t resist a good pout. 

“Fine.”

The two of them changed and made their way across the hot sand. About halfway between the house and waves Jungkook stopped.

“The perfect spot!” He announced, setting down the bag and rummaging through it. Yoongi looked around.

“What makes this spot any different than anywhere else?”

Jungkook shook a large blue and white striped towel and laid it across the sand. He flopped onto it dramatically, the ground giving a satisfying thunk at his bulk. “Because this spot has a towel.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. Jungkook reached out, fishing through the bag for a second towel. He threw it to Yoongi, smirking when it smacked the other square in his grumpy face. 

Yoongi set it out, his expression decidedly softer. He settled onto the blanket and paused before kicking his sandals off and tugging his t-shirt over his head. He rolled onto his stomach, head pillowed on his folded arms. He wiggled a little, making a spot for himself in the soft sand. “This isn’t so bad,” he hummed.

Jungkook tried not to stare. It’s not that he’d never seen Yoongi without his shirt on. There had been occasions over the course of their friendship where he’d spilled something on himself, or it was just somehow more convenient, but admittedly it wasn’t often. Jungkook hadn’t actually expected him to take it off. But there he was, his broad back looking far paler in the sunlight. 

They were just friends. But, that didn’t stop Jungkook from having eyes. And Yoongi was an attractive human even by human standards. Yoongi had his eyes closed; the soft curve of his lashes and the resting pout of his lips drew Jungkook’s attention next. He really, truly was achingly beautiful. 

Jungkook dug around in the bag and dropped a bottle of sunscreen next to Yoongi’s head. 

“There you go, potato chip.”

Yoongi grunted and opened his eyes. 

“Were you already half asleep?” He asked, rummaging through the bag for a snack.

“Maybe. Did you just call me a potato chip?”

Jungkook pulled a bag of actual potato chips from and popped it open. He smirked. “Yeah. You said you were going to get crispy. And you’re already plenty salty.” He tossed a few of the ships into his mouth. 

Yoongi ignored your joke and squeezed a dollop of the lotion onto his hand. He began to rub it into his arms and face methodically. It was a little unnerving to watch his features slowly be obscured by the sunblock. He glanced up at Jungkook and cocked a brow. 

Jungkook smiled sheepishly, aware he’d been caught staring in an entirely creepy way. He offered Yoongi the bag of chips in an apology. Yoongi reached for them, but paused, both his hands covered in the gloopy lotion. He shrugged and held his mouth open like a baby bird instead. With an affectionate shake of his head, Jungkook dropped a chip into his mouth. Yoongi chewed and swallowed, and demanded yet another with an open mouther. 

“Too greedy,” Jungkook scolded through a laugh, dropping another chip into his mouth. 

He was actively ignoring the fact that it felt a little coupley to be hand feeding him chips. It wasn’t that he’d never considered a romantic relationship with Yoongi. He just knew it would never happen. They both had busy lives and, not to mention, Yoongi was so far out of Jungkook’s league it was nearly laughable. So, any crush that may have tried to bloom was quickly uprooted; Jungkook valued their friendship far too much. 

After the third chip, Jungkook tossed Yoongi something to wipe his hands with. He laid back to enjoy the sun, feeling much of his stress being chased away. 

“Hey, can you do my back?” Yoongi asked, popping the bubble of relaxation Jungkook had been drifting away into. He sighed and sat up, taking the bottle from Yoongi. 

“You have such pretty markings, it’s a shame to cover them,” Jungkook commented casually as he began to rub the lotion into Yoongi’s back. The lines that arched over his shoulder blade and along his spine were nearly symmetrical. As Jungkook worked lower, he wondered what the markings further extension would look like. Humans often had more complex designs in that area, but Jungkook had never seen Yoongi’s. With how shapely Yoongi was though… Jungkook could only imagine they would be just as pleasing. 

“Huh?” Yoongi asked softly. “What markings?”

“These,” Jungkook traced one line that dipped along Yoongi’s spine, still faintly visible through the metallic speckled UV reflecting lotion. 

Yoongi squirmed. 

“Ticklish?” Jungkook asked, repeating the action. 

Yoongi grunted, wiggling away from his fingers. “I will put so much spice in dinner tonight that you won’t be able to taste anything for a month,” he threatened, laughter in his deep voice. 

“Oh fine,” Jungkook held up his hands, relenting. “Now hold still so I can finish.”

“Hey, I was holding still. You started it.”

Jungkook smiled at his pout and set back to work. Just as he finished up, Yoongi spoke again.

“Really though, what markings? Do I have scars or freckles that I don’t know about?”

“No, your stripes,” Jungkook explained hurriedly, hearing the worry in Yoongi’s voice. 

Yoongi craned his neck back to see Jungkook over his shoulder. “I don’t have stripes.” 

It was then that Jungkook remembered. “Oh! Duh. I forgot. You must not have the right ocularity to see them.” 

He was normally so careful around humans. His parents had drilled into him how important it was that people didn’t ever know about his differences. He almost never brought up the things he knew humans couldn’t see with their limited visual range. But Yoongi made him feel so normal. Aside from his initial freak out, he’d never acted like Jungkook’s abilities were anything more than a unique curiosity or a party trick. His expression now remained puzzled. Jungkook closed all but two of his eyes, limiting his vision to what a human would have. He couldn’t help but frown at the way Yoongi saw himself. It was so plain, like a rainbow in black and white for a human. Yoongi was still gorgeous, but that spark was missing. A human’s markings and colorings told Jungkook so much about them than their visible light ever could. Yoongi’s were particularly stunning from day one. 

“In your visible light spectrum, they aren’t there,” he further explained.

“Ocularity? That sounds like a word Namjoon would know. Some obscure thing.”

“It means the number of eyes you have normally. Though I suppose in this case it’s more about spectral frequency than actual number of physical eyes…”

“And in your eyes, I have stripes?” Yoongi looked down at himself, curious. “I must look so weird to you.” He laughed lightly.

“Not at all,” Jungkook said. “You’re beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” Yoongi cocked his head and grinned. 

Jungkook could feel his cheeks heat but tried to ignore it. “Yes, beautiful. You can’t tell me you aren’t aware of how stunning you are and how many people find you attractive.”

“Maybe,” Yoongi conceded. “But I didn’t think you did.”

Jungkook’s blush deepened. He tried to ignore it, but thought his cheeks rivaled the sun’s heat at that very moment. “Anyone with eyes thinks you’re gorgeous. So yeah, that includes me. Doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re an annoying troublemaker who worries his friends by overworking thought,” Jungkook stuck his tongue out and turned away, hoping Yoongi would let it go after the riff. 

“So,” Yoongi continued much to Jungkook’s disappointment, “if you have more than the usual number of eyes, and more than the usual amount of uhh… Ocularity… Does that mean you find me more than the usual amount of beautiful?”

Jungkook sighed heavily. “Does it matter?”

“It doesn’t, I guess. I just always thought you were good looking. I never realized you thought the same about me.” 

Jungkook scoffed, rolling his eyes in disbelief. “I’m sure the glowing eyes and tentacle wings are super sexy to a human.” Jungkook could hear the bitterness in his voice, but it had always bugged him. Any partner he’d ever had had only seen a part of him, nobody ever saw him completely, for what he truly was. They’d call him a monster. 

When Yoongi remained silent, Jungkook figured his question had been answered. But Yoongi finally responded, “it is to this human.”

Jungkook snapped his head up to look at Yoongi then laughed. There’s no way that could be true. “You’re just being nice,” Jungkook said. “I appreciate it. But… Let’s just go back to enjoying the sun, eh?” He rolled onto his back on the blanket and closed his eyes, letting his skin soak up the warm rays. 

Yoongi laid back on his stomach fully, silent for the moment. Jungkook could feel him watching him, but didn’t mind. It was a comforting feeling. 

“I’ve always wondered. Can you feel your wings like that? Aren’t they on your back?”

“I can, and they are. But they also aren’t. I can still feel them and move them. You’re used to thinking in three dimensions, as a human. But when I hide my wings or other parts of me, it’s like…” Jungkook frowned as he tried to find an analogy Yoongi would comprehend. “Like taking pants off a paper doll. They both still exist to you, but for the doll, it doesn’t have pants anymore.”

“So hiding your wings is like taking your pants off?” Yoongi chuckled. When Jungkook glanced over, Yoongi winked suggestively. Jungkook’s brows furrowed, confused about what had gotten into his friend today. “No, not really,” Jungkook sighed, opting to ignore the flirtation… If that’s what it was. “It’s not a perfect metaphor.”

“Do you keep them hidden because they’re private? Or so you don’t scare people?”

“I’m pretty sure people would run screaming or try to lock me up and do horrible tests on me if I just walked down the street with glowing tentacle wings and thirteen eyes,” Jungkook deadpanned. 

“You know I wouldn’t thought. But you still almost always keep them hidden from me too. I wasn’t sure if it was because they were private.” 

“Oh…” Jungkook pauses to consider. “I guess it’s just habit,” he finally settled on. Even home alone he rarely brought them out. Only when he needed the extra appendage to flick a light switch off across the room or carry things. There was another long pause as Jungkook thought about Yoongi’s question, and Yoongi, apparently, was thinking as well. 

“Can I see them?”

“Why so curious all of a sudden?” Jungkook asked. His tone was gentle. He sat up and wiggled his shoulders a little to pull his wings into this dimension. 

“Wow.” Yoongi sat up and looked over Jungkook’s shoulder, his eyes tracing the long, golden, glowing tentacles. They shifted subtly in his perception, never entirely free from the currents of the fourth dimension. “I forgot how beautiful they are.” His gaze darted over to Jungkook’s face and he frowned. “What about your eyes?”

Jungkook hesitated. “You sure? I mean glowy wings might be tolerable… But thirteen eyes…”

“I’m sure. I can handle it. No screaming this time.”

Jungkook chuckled a little. He scrunched his face and blinked a few times, letting every part of himself slip into this dimension. It felt nice, like releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

Yoongi stared for a long minute, his gaze intense. Maybe it did feel more like taking your pants off than he thought it would. Jungkook considered hiding his eyes away again; maybe he had horrified Yoongi after all, but Yoongi seemed to shake himself out of whatever trance he was in.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

The pause grew to the point of awkward between them. Jungkook sighed, but opted to ignore it. He rolled onto his stomach to lie in the sun once more, wings still out. 

“Can I touch them?” Yoongi blurted out. He paused when Jungkook looked up. Jungkook could swear he was blushing. “I’m sorry, was that rude?” He asked.

“No. Not rude. Not so different from touching my arm, I guess… I don’t know, really… I don’t know a ton of other Nephilim to have some sort of reference.”

“Oh, uh, right… Sorry.”

Jungkook shrugged and sat up, facing Yoongi. Yoongi did the same. Jungkook spread the tendrils of his wings out in front of him like open hands, glancing up at Yoongi expectantly. Yoongi reached out, setting his hand on top of them. Jungkook was surprised at the sensation. It felt so strange, but not uncomfortable at all. Soothing, in a way. 

“They’re warm,” Yoongi said, surprise apparent in his own voice. He stroked his hand along the length of them, and Jungkook suppressed a shudder. It felt really good. Like someone rubbing his back but… More. Yoongi shifted his hands from stroking three at a time to just one. He twirled his finger around the tip of it, as if spinning a hair. The motion sent an unexpected shiver of pleasure down Jungkook’s spine and he gasped, nearly crying out. He yanked his wings away and instantly shifted them out of sight. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—” Yoongi cried in surprise. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it would feel like that,” Jungkook stammered, his cheeks flushed and hot.

“Did I hurt you?” Yoongi’s brows were knitted together in concern.

Jungkook wanted the ground to swallow him whole. “No…” He mumbled. Yoongi must not have realized… “The opposite, actually.”

“Oh…”

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m so sorry,” Jungkook continued. “I honestly didn’t know it felt like that. I’ve never let anyone touch them, I didn’t know—”

“You’ve never let anyone touch them?” Yoongi asked, cutting Jungkook off.

“Of course not. You’re the only human that knows about them. Who else would have?”

“Your parents?” Yoongi suggested.

“They’re terrified of them. And besides… Now I’m glad they haven’t,” he admitted, letting out an uncomfortable chuckle. 

“It’s not fair.”

“What isn’t?” 

“That there’s this whole other side to you. An amazing side that you don’t get to show anyone. That you don’t get to explore at all because of how people are.”

Jungkook shrugged one shoulder. “I’m used to it. It doesn’t bother me anymore, I’ve spent my whole life hiding it. And besides,” Jungkook smiled. “You know the real me. So, one person has seen it. And accepts it… I hope.”

Yoongi nodded thoughtfully. 

Jungkook looked back down at the blanket. There was a small nagging feeling in the back of his mind, a curiosity about what he’d felt in Yoongi’s hands, what more would feel like. He could explore it on his own, he figured. He wanted to put this whole awkward, humiliating event past him and get on with the relaxing weekend—

“I can help you,” Yoongi said, cutting into his plan. 

“Help me?”

“You don’t know much about… That side. I mean, you didn’t know how it would feel to have someone touch them. But someday, I mean… You’ll meet someone who you can share that with, I hope. So, you’ll want to be prepared, or at least know what to expect. So, if you’re curious and wanted to, I… I could help you explore.” Yoongi looked down as he spoke, fiddling with the sand between their blankets.

Jungkook blinked, his mind taking a long moment to process exactly what Yoongi was asking. Was he actually offering… Based on his inability to make eye contact… And the beautiful pink glow of his cheeks, he was. It was strange, thinking of it, definitely not something friends did, right? Jungkook chewed his bottom lip until it hurt, his head twitching as he thought through the situation. It was definitely more than friends. And he should definitely not say yes. This held the potential of changing their entire relationship forever. Ruining it, even. Or making it something more. Yoongi had mentioned finding him attractive. But that was out of the question. No, he had to politely say no, this was something he could explore on his own. 

“Okay.” The word came out firm and decisive, evidently his mouth had decided to ignore every shred of rationale his brain was giving. 

“Really?” Yoongi looked up, his own eyes wide, as if he were as surprised by the answer. “You… I didn’t think you’d agree,” he admitted. “You’re sure? I do want to. But, I know this is… Big. We can stop any time.”

“I know.” Jungkook nodded. “I trust you.”

Yoongi’s entire face brightened, his mouth upturning into a gummy smile that had Jungkook’s heart fluttering and his cheeks and chest warming. 

He took a breath, not sure where to start. “So… What should I do?”

“Well, I need to see them to be able to touch them,” Yoongi teased, reaching out and waving his hand in the empty space where Jungkook’s tentacles should be. 

“Right.” Jungkook wiggled and let them appear once more. 

“I’ll never get over how pretty that looks,” Yoongi commented. He let his hand fall, watching the movement of them for a moment. 

“So, I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Yoongi said. “You’ll need to let me know how it feels, okay?”

“You mean you haven’t played with tentacles before? What kind of twenty-something year old are you?” Jungkook teased. 

Yoongi scoffed. He reached out, catching one of the tentacles. He squeezed lightly, just hard enough to give some pressure, his eyes on Jungkook’s face.

“That’s okay, doesn’t hurt but… Doesn’t feel like it did before—Oh!” 

While Jungkook spoke, Yoongi slid his hand slowly up and down the tentacle. 

“Better?” He whispered. Jungkook nodded, closing his eyes. Yoongi repeated the motion and reached out for another tentacle, doing the same. He pulled one closer to him, twirling his finger around the tip like he had before. 

Jungkook moaned softly, his eyes snapping open. He covered his mouth with his hands. “Oh, God, I—”

Yoongi let go of one tentacle to tug his hands down. “We’re alone. You don’t have to be shy.”

“This is so weird,” Jungkook mumbled, leaning toward Yoongi a little.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, please don’t stop… Do that again?”

Yoongi chuckled. He repeated the twirling motion and then slid his hand down the tentacle, moving it back up in one fluid stroke. Jungkook felt his belly tighten up and he moaned softly, his shoulders sagging a little. 

“Come closer to me, I want to reach more of them,” Yoongi whispered. 

Jungkook moved onto the same towel, resting on his knees in front of Yoongi, his head bowed. Yoongi made a small noise. He moved forward, wrapping both arms around Jungkook. He caught the tentacles in his hands, sliding his fingers over them and pressing where they emerged from Jungkook’s back. His short nails scraped over one as he stroked his fingers up it, and Jungkook cried out, jerking forward. 

The motion sent him slamming into Yoongi’s chest, his heart pounding wildly.

Yoongi cried out in surprise, tightening his grip on Jungkook’s back. “Hey… You okay?”

“Y—Yeah,” Jungkook stuttered. He could hear Yoongi’s heart pounding as fast as his own. The aura around Yoongi was shifting, a vibrant array of colors that would have made the most strong-willed person a little dizzy. 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook worried. “Is this… Not good?”

“This is…” Yoongi drifted off. Jungkook looked up at him, meeting his gaze. Yoongi’s pupils were dilated and dark despite the sun, his gaze intense. 

“This is what?” Jungkook pressed. 

Yoongi swallowed hard. He shifted, pulling Jungkook closer to him. “It’s okay,” Yoongi whispered. “You can lean on me.” 

Jungkook pouted a little at Yoongi’s lack of an answer, but let himself be guided onto Yoongi’s lap. Yoongi’s hands slid over his back once more, up short, anxiety bitten nails scraping over the sensitive trunks of his tentacles. Jungkook moaned helplessly, letting his forehead fall onto Yoongi’s shoulder. 

Yoongi began to work each of the tentacles in turn, squeezing and stroking, rubbing, each one, testing each. Jungkook’s entire body was on fire. His stomach was knotted in a million twists, a heat and pressure more intense than he’d ever felt before building low inside his belly. 

“Yoongi—” He strained. 

“I’m here,” Yoongi purred. His breath was hot against Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook moaned wantonly. He didn’t care. He didn’t care that they were “just friends”, he didn’t care that this was just “exploring”. Every emotion he’d felt for Yoongi was rushing back. Every glance that was less than friendly, every “what if” whispered in the back of his mind, every moment shoved away and boxed up under the guise of not wanting to ruin things, not being good enough, not being human enough.

“Yoongi!” He cried again, his voice taking on a pleading lilt. He let his head fall back, leaning into the touches. He looked at Yoongi, struggling to focus. The aura of colors surrounding Yoongi seemed to reflect his own inner chaos, shifting and writhing around them. Despite all of the emotions flooding him, it still surprised Jungkook when he felt Yoongi’s lips against his own. It took him a moment to react. Yoongi’s mouth was soft and plush, tasting of the potato chips they’d shared earlier, the faintest hint of coffee from this morning. He felt Yoongi begin to pull away and made a small noise, instinct kicking in. Jungkook wrapped his arms around Yoongi and deepened the kiss, pressing every inch of his own body against him. 

The tentacles that Yoongi wasn’t touching wrapped around them, brushing Yoongi’s back and neck lightly. 

He could feel Yoongi’s cock, pressing up against the fabric of his swim trunks, just as hard as his own. Jungkook brought his hips down, grinding their crotches together gently. It was almost disappointing; the lack of feeling he got from it. It was nice, of course, but didn’t feel near as amazing as Yoongi’s hands on his tentacles. 

Yoongi, on the other hand, reacted beautifully. His hips jerked and he moaned into Jungkook’s mouth, his grip tightening ever so slightly on the tentacles. 

Jungkook pulled back, pressing their foreheads together. He began to hump himself against Yoongi, their breathing rapid as they shared the same warm pocket of air. 

Curious, Jungkook let one tentacle sink down, sliding over Yoongi’s bare knee. He shifted his own seating position and pushed it up slowly, into the leg of Yoongi’s swim trunks and up. Yoongi’s eyes widened almost comically when he felt it, his hands going still.

Jungkook pushed up further, letting the tip of the tentacle brush over Yoongi’s balls, already drawn tight to his body. Up further, and around his cock. He wound the tentacle around it in a firm grip, amazed at the texture he could feel, and how good it felt. He could feel Yoongi’s pulse, fast and strong. He stroked it experimentally. Both gasped. It was so intimate. Though it wasn’t exactly like being penetrated, it was so much more than any masturbation he’d done before with anyone. He began to jerk Yoongi off slow and steady, his own climax drawing closer. 

Yoongi was wiggling and moaning, clearly struggling to maintain composure. He continued to work Jungkook’s tentacles, knowing the perfect motions at this point to send all the good sparks straight to Jungkook’s guts. 

“Please—“ Jungkook gasped. 

“Are you close?” 

Jungkook nodded. Yoongi let go of one tentacle and grabbed the front of Jungkook’s shorts. He pulled them out and pushed them down just enough for the tip of Jungkook’s cock to be exposed. 

“Nobody likes come in their shorts.” Jungkook laughed breathlessly. He did the same for Yoongi, but moved back and pushed them down further.

He watched his tentacle stroke Yoongi’s cock, breathless at the beauty of it. The stripes on Yoongi’s back wound around to his front, swirling around his cock in complex, beautiful patterns. 

“Together—“ Yoongi panted. 

Jungkook blinked at him.

Yoongi let go of his tentacles only long enough to pull him close again. He touched the tentacle on his cock. “Jerk us both off.”

“I can barely feel my cock with you touching my tentacles,” Jungkook admitted.

He still did as Yoongi requested, unable to hide the smile when Yoongi’s hips jerked. The skin of their cocks slid together as he stroked them both with the tentacle. 

Yoongi turned his focus back to the other five, matching pace as they each pulled one another toward climax.

Jungkook came first, unsurprisingly. His head fell back and he shouted Yoongi’s name. His full form shimmered into view, the intensity of his orgasm forcing him into one dimension. His cock spilled his release down the shaft, slicking the way for his tentacle as he continued to stroke them both. Every nerve in his body was on fire, even his tentacles felt as if they were tensing and releasing in time to the powerful climax.

Yoongi swore and jerked. Jungkook forced his eyes open in time to watch, not wanting to miss it. Yoongi’s release spurted onto Jungkook’s belly. Yoongi shuddered, dropping his head onto Jungkook’s shoulder as the waves of pleasure washed over him. Jungkook could nearly see it in his shifting aura, beautiful and hypnotizing. 

The two sat in silence for a long time after their orgasms faded, catching their breath and letting the reality of what happened sink in. Yoongi was the first to move, reaching over and dragging the bag closer. He found the towel he’d used to wipe his hands earlier and used it once more, cleaning the release from their bodies and Jungkook’s tentacles tenderly. 

Jungkook moved off him and back onto his own blanket, fixing his shorts. He shrugged a bit, his tentacles and extra eyes slipping from view once more.

“So…”

“That was…” Yoongi began at the same time. They both chuckled a little, a tension in the air. 

“What do we do now?” Jungkook finally asked. He found himself unable to meet Yoongi’s gaze, afraid of what the other was going to say. 

“You were saying I was handsome. I mean… That you thought I was,” Yoongi began.

“You are.”

“Was it just that? Like… You think I’m handsome but we’re friends and… That’s it? Or… More?”

Jungkook cautiously looked up at Yoongi. He was sitting in a similar position, staring at his hands in his lap. 

“I’m afraid to answer,” Jungkook admitted.

“Please, don’t be. I need to know.”

“I don’t want it to ruin our friendship.” 

Yoongi looked up. “If you’re scared of that… Does that mean it’s a yes? To… More?”

“I tried to ignore it. I figured we were both busy and you’re… So handsome. I’m just…” Jungkook drifted off. 

“The most stunning person I’ve ever met,” Yoongi finished.

“That’s a boldfaced lie,” Jungkook snorted.

“No, Jungkook. It’s not.” Yoongi moved forward. He grabbed Jungkook’s face, cupping it in his hands. “I’ve been fascinated with you forever. You’re funny and kind and beautiful, and so interesting. I can’t get bored around you. You make me so happy. I just figured… I’m so… Human. And how dull I must be to you.”

Jungkook grimaced. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You are anything but dull.”

“I lack the ocularity,” Yoongi responded, his voice shifting as he smirked. Jungkook laughed. He set his hands over Yoongi’s wrists.

“So, it seems like… We both have been interested in more for a while.”

“And were both too worried to say something.”

“Now that the truth is out… What’s next?”

Yoongi smiled softly. “I think we go take a dip in the ocean. And then make dinner… And then come lay on the beach and watch the sunset together… How does that sound?”

Jungkook smiled brightly. He let his tentacles and eyes appear, his heart skipping a happy beat when Yoongi’s smile broadened.

“I think that sounds like the perfect first date.”

[notprofessionalwriting]

. 1:47am . -  Part Two

DAMAGED GOODS 

Corpse Husband X FemReader

Summary: After accidentally calling Corpse, Y/N and him are trying to not be awkward in a park, so they play 20 questions. Corpse won’t let Y/N forget she ignored his 8ball request (she 100% did) 

Warnings: slight angst if you squint, cursing, mentions of car accidents and guns being pulled

A/N: i literally cant believe anyone read part one, thank you sm for the nice words and stuff :) 

Part 2 of ???? 

PART ONE

3:46am

You were sitting on a park bench with your skateboard next to you. The world around you was quiet, other than the occasional car speeding down the busy road next to the park. You pulled out your phone and checked your notifications, nothing. The last text you got was 10 minutes ago from Corpse saying he was on his way. 

“What the fuck am I doing?” you questioned yourself as you looked down at your board. It’s from junior year of high school. It was a beaten up Black Label skateboard, one that your crush from high school picked out for you. The only time you ever actually used it was when the two of you rode your boards together downtown after school. That was until he then began dating your other friend - then you never touched it again. 

Your gaze never parted from the board until your phone buzzed as your phone screen lit up. A text from Corpse appearing across your screen. 

3:48am

Corpse: here. 

You lifted your head and looked around in the darkness. The park around you is completely empty, the swings standing lifeless as the grim night air creeps around you. A slight chill makes it’s way up your spine and you began thinking to yourself, ‘am I going to be fucking murdered?’ The fear began to sneak upon you, your skin now crawling. Eventually, you heard the sound of a skateboard rolling towards you. Slowly, you’re able to make out the figure on the board as it begins to approach you. 

Tall, slender build, curly hair hid under a beanie, dressed in all black with a pullover hoodie. They effortlessly rode the board until their foot touched the ground, the board now stopped before you. They had a mask on, hiding most of their facial features aside their eyes and up. You were in shock, this is the first time you’ve seen him in person. In fact, you weren’t even sure if Sykkuno ever actually met up with him, despite living in the same city. Your nerves began to creep up more as you studied what features of him were available to view. So far, you declared he has the prettiest set of brown eyes you’ve ever seen. 

“Hey, y/n.” he spoke quietly, his deep voice erupting into the eerie night air. He stepped off his board and sat next to you onto the bench. 

“Hey, Corpse” you responded while giving him a small smile, looking down at your hands and twiddling with them. You were nervous being in his presence. Something about how mysterious he’s always been caused you to feel intimidated. Though, in person, you saw how anxious and awkward he actually was. He wasn’t looking you in the eyes, his hands were stuffed in his pocket and wait- was he shaking? This all made you wonder, why were you so nervous? 

He let out a breathy laugh and turned to face you, studying your features. You felt blush begin to rise to your cheeks. His high pitch laughter was one you had originally only heard through your headphones in-game, hearing it in person was a whole different experience. 

“You nervous?” he questioned you

“Uhh,” you locked eyes to him, you could tell he was smirking underneath his face mask with the way his eyes moved, “yeah actually, really fucking nervous honestly.” 

“Me too,” he chuckled and leaned forward, not making eye contact with you anymore. He rested his arms on his knees, “really fucking nervous.” 

“Why?” you let your eyes rest on his figure, studying his movements as he adjusted his beanie and anxious pulled his sleeves down to cover his hands. 

“It’s the first time I’ve been out of my apartment in fuckin’ days,” he slumped into the bench now while looking off into the nighttime, “Plus I haven’t seen more than half of my friends in person. Uhh, actually all of my friends.” 

“Well, ain’t I special?” you said, confusion festering inside of you. You felt yourself so intrigued by every movement and word that let his mouth. You wanted to watch him and listen to him talk for hours. What the fuck is happening? 

He looked over at you, yet another smirk hiding underneath his mask, “I wanted to ask you in person…”, he adjusted his seating to now face you again, “Why the fuck did you ignore my 8-Ball request?”

You stared deadpan, another laugh escaping you, “No fucking way. I totally fucking responded to that.” 

“No you didn’t,” he quickly responded, “you definitely didn’t.” 

“You brought me in the middle of a park at basically 4am to argue about 8-Ball?” You questioned him, watching his features soften more. A smile grew upon his face, brightening what you could see of his face. 

“Yes, yes I did actually.” You didn’t respond, instead you squinted your eyes and stared at him. “I-uh- I wanted to also, you know, actually talk to you?” He mumbled, “We never actually talk. Plus, you called ME at wee fucking hours in the mornin. Don’t you spin this around on me.” 

“It was an accident!!” You retorted, laughter escaping your lips so easily it felt natural to be sitting and laughing on a bench with him, “I didn’t mean to be weird and randomly call you!” 

He moved slightly close to you, slowly closing some of the space between the two of you, “Well, I was the weird one and asked you to hang out at 3am, so we’re even I guess.” 

You could smell his cologne and aftershave, and fuck it smelled amazing. He continued to mess with the sleeves of his hoodie, pulling them over his hands and tucking them anxiously in his pockets. 

“Okay, okay, my turn. What made you ask me to ‘chill’ in this park?” 

You studied him, awaiting his response. “Same reason you ‘accidentally’ called me,” he said, putting air quotation marks over the word accidentally. 

“Oh?” you jokingly questioned him, “and what’s that?” 

You wondered what he looked like under the mask. You wondered how his hair looks under his beanie. You wondered if he smelled even better under the layers of his hoodie and what appeared to be another sweatshirt underneath. Your mind began to wonder how his voice sounded like when he first woke up, or what he sounded like when he was half asleep. More thoughts began to dance throughout your head as you stared at him, looking at his eyes which showed he was smiling under his mask. 

“I wanted to get to know you better. Ya’know, actually talk and stuff.” He responded, breaking the shared eye contact and looking around you.

“And stuff?” you giggled, watching his nervous reaction. His hands were stuffed in his jacket pocket again.

“I don’t fucking know, what do normal socially inclined people do?” 

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

4:11am

“Okay, how about this,” you spoke into the uncomfortable silence that fell between the two of you after you ran out of small talk. You two were staring at each other, motionless. “20 questions?” 

“20 questions?” he questioned you, narrowing his eyebrows in confusion

“Yeah, why not?” you laughed nervously, something about him made your nerves on high alert, “you start!” 

You positioned yourself to face him on the bench, crossing your legs in front of you and resting your arms on your legs. You gauged his reaction, the look of confusion flooding his face.  

“Uhhhhhh,” he turned to face you, mimicking the way you were sitting -  crossing his legs in front of him on the bench, “uhh- i don’t fucking know, favorite color?” 

“Blue!” you exclaimed, “I’ve always loved darker shades of blue, like turquoise or- well it’s not blue-blue but aquamarine too.” 

“Aquamarine? That’s a fancy color, heh. Guess mine.” 

“Black?” you giggled, looking his outfit up and down, it was about fifty shades of black. 

He laughed his signature high pitched laughter, adjusting his sleeves to again cover his hands, “Correct. How did you guess?”  

“Oh just a hunch, that’s all. It’s your turn.” 

“Uhhh,” he pulled out his phone and began typing rapidly. You stared at his hands, luminated from his phone screen. His chipped black nail polish was uneven on his nails, his rings shining bright against the light. His hands were veiny, you found yourself unable to look away, “I’m ass at these things, so lemme google something.” He began clicking rapidly, “…. Okay okay I’m ready. Got some questions and all” He held his phone up to hide the questions as he stared at them. 

“That’s cheating!” you giggled, reaching for his phone, “you’re a fucking cheater!”

“No, no, no, there are no rules. You did not say any rules. No rules! Ahem- okay.” he cleared his throat, scrolling through the question list, “holy fuck these questions. Ok- okay this one is good. So, ahem,” he put on a fake announcer voice, causing you to giggle even more, “Have you ever been in a car accident — and it was your fault?”

“Well damn,” you laughed, “where the fuck did you find these questions?”

“Hey man, I didn’t write the question. Anyway, you gotta answer it. Spill the beans, hunny” 

“Oh geez, well yes, I have been in a car accident, no I didn’t cause it.” You watched as his face softened, a look of sorrow clouding his dark eyes, “It was when I was in high school. A friend of mine- an old friend- was driving and another car blew a red light. It was a minor accident. No one was hurt or anything, but it fucked with my anxiety for a while. I still hate driving now. So I prefer public transportation.”

“Oh fuck- I’m glad you’re okay- jesus fuck. I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, I was paranoid about any cars. I refused to get in them for about a year, but I’m able to drive now, no worries. Anyway- your turn.” 

“I for one, have never been in a car accident, thankfully. However, I have had a gun pulled on me inside of my car, if that counts.”

“You WHAT?” you interrupted him, leaning closer to him, “ex-fucking-cuse me?” His nonchalant way about talking about that baffled you. 

He giggled, how was he giggling over this? “Yeah it was fucking wild man, straight fucking wild. I lived though.” 

“Okay, my turn. Why the fuck did you have a gun pulled on you?”

“You’re not letting that go, huh?”

“NO.” You shot back at him, “that’s fucking nuts.”

“It happened so fast, I can barely recall most of it. Guy tried to rob me, but I’m too fucking broke and didn’t have anything. Threatened to blow my head off, then fucking left. I still don’t know why the fuck he picked me. Do I even appear to look like I have any sort of value? But I lived, so there’s that.”

“Oh my fucking god.” That’s all you could manage to say, the thought of anything bad happening to him now begins to worry you. You have the strong urge to protect him from all evil, at any costs. 

“Yeah- straight fucking nuts. Anyway, my turn.” He began to scroll through the questions pulled up on his phone, letting out hmms and huuhs? until he finds a question that he deems worth asking, “What embarrasses you the most and/or what’s been your most embarrassing moment?”

“Hmmmm,” you took a moment to ponder the question, there’s a lot of things you’ve done that really embarrass yourself, “Okay so I was on a date with this guy I was really into in college, like I loved this guy before we even went out.”

“Was he cute?” Corpse asked, resting his elbows on his legs and his head on his hands, a pensive stare in his eyes as he peered at you.

“Uhhhh, really fucking cute actually….,” you were lost in his eyes, you couldn’t make out the rest of his face, but you’ve declared him as one of the most attractive people you’ve seen, “... uh anyway, so we were out on a date-”

“I can’t relate.” he interrupted, laughing again. 

“Huh?” you, again, we snapped out of your story. 

“Being on asked dates, can’t relate. I have never been asked on a date.” 

“I don’t believe that. Anyway-”

“O really? I legit have never been asked out on a date,” he let out a breathy laugh, “I’ll let you finish though.” 

“Well this isn’t a good date, anyway we were at the movies on a date and it happens to be the same exact movie theater his ex was at. Same movie, same time, same everything.” 

“Oh no…” Corpse knew exactly where this was headed. 

“Yuuupp, it was a ploy to run into his ex-girlfriend. They ended up getting back together right after that happened. Exact reason I hate the entire Purge series now.” 

“Evil. Straight fucken evil. I’m sorry.” he leaned his hand over to lay it on your leg, “that’s actually fucked.” 

He was touching you. His hand was on your leg, right above your knee. You felt the sensation of touch shoot up from your leg to your stomach. Your heart began pounding a thousand beats a second. Why were you acting this way? Why was your heart racing at an innocent touch to express sorrow? You tried your best to ignore it.  

You shrugged, although it still has taken a major shot to your self esteem, “I mean, it still stings but they have two kids now so, good for them I guess.” 

“At least you’re not spending the money on diapers now,” he laughed, moving his hand away and giving you finger guns, “that shit is outrageous.”  That was the cutest shit you’ve ever seen.

“Okaay, my turn. So have you really never been asked on a date?” You watched his reaction, he quickly rubbed the back of his head again, letting out an anxious laugh. 

“I mean, I’ve been on dates with my ex before and like, two other people, but I was the one to always ask ya’know. I never had anyone take interest in me first. I’m always the initiator. It’s not really that deep though. I actually like not being bothered with relationship shit honestly. Anyway, my turn.” 

Why did that upset you? You felt a ping in your heart. A ping of sadness. What’s wrong with you?

He scrolled through the questions a bit, searching for a good one to ask. 

“Okay, this one isn’t as cringe, what's the luckiest thing that's ever happened to you?”

You thought for a moment, looking at him staring back at you. A smile forming underneath his mask despite the lack of sleep hitting you both. The early morning sky began to form around you two on the park bench, you couldn’t deny it, he was attractive. You couldn’t see his face fully, but his visible features were inviting. You wanted to see what he was hiding on the mask. He had warm eyes, curly mess hair, you imagined he was more attractive than you imagined under the mask. “Well, I’m sitting on a fucking park bench at like 5am with Corpse Husband. Completely unplanned, no sleep at all. Answering questions about our lives in the darkness. Totally random, almost face reveal and all.”

Wait what the fuck - were you just flirting with him? Why are you flirting with him? You couldn’t tell, but he seemed to blush. 

“Oh shut the fuck up,” he laughed leaning over and playfully nudging your arm, “this is after you randomly called me, don’t forget that.”

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!” 

“I knew you never actually wanted to talk to me.” 

“Ohmyfuckinggod.” you reached over and snatched the phone from his hand. In the process, you accidentally touched his hands, you felt another surge of butterflies rush through you again. You tried to brush them away and scrolled through the questions, “do you believe in soulmates?” 

Of all questions, you asked that one. You wanted to smack yourself. What were you doing? 

He raised his eyebrows, bringing his hands to his chin, rubbing the front part of his mask. You wondered what he looked like without the mask on again. Thoughts of his skin racing through your mind, “Huh. I don’t honestly. I don’t think anyone is truly meant for anyone. Love is fucking hard, yaknow? Sure you can be attracted and interested in someone. But to actually have a meaningful, fulfilling relationship, it doesn't just happen. You need to actually want it. Want to actually work and build with them. No one is someone’s actual soul mate. Don’t even get me started if someone dies.” 

“Period sis,” you laughed, “I’d like to believe there’s someone for everyone though.” You were a hopeless romantic, it’s showing. 

“My person is the one that probably was murdered or something,” he laughed, looking down at his pant legs, “I kinda gave up on relationships and shit anyway. I’m not really the ideal partner.”

“Why?” you didn’t mean to ask that immediately after he spoke, it slipped out

“It’s my turn, mam.” He laughed, taking his phone back, “ooooh here’s a goodie, when you can’t sleep at night, what keeps you awake?” 

“Everything,” you blurted out, laughing, “fucking everything.” 

“Mood.” 

You paused for a moment, letting go on any filter you’ve had set, tiredness is setting in and you have no control over your words, “I always feel like I’m never really good enough, yaknow? Like I don’t really belong anywhere. I feel like I’m an outsider everywhere. I guess, I guess that’s what keeps me awake at night. Damn that got really fucking emo.” 

He nodded, the two of you not speaking for a good minute. He finally broke the silence, “Yeah, yeah. I actually fully understand that feeling.” 

“My turn,” you didn’t look at the phone this time, “so why did you give up on relationships? Or finding in love, or whatever.” 

Why did you care so much? Why are you asking him this? 

He took a deep breath, letting up a breathy chuckle, “Ah fuck, I-I don’t think I’ve ever talked about this before - like out loud.” He paused for a brief second, you were moments away from telling him it was fine without answering, but he continued on, “I- I don’t really see myself as a good partner honestly. Like, I don’t go outside much. I don’t show myself anywhere - that’s actually unfair to my partners. I can’t see myself being able to fully invest myself into a relationship either, I have so much other shit going on. My life it’s self is a fucking mess, I’m a fucking mess. I don’t deserve that sense of happiness either.” 

“Why’s that?” You questioned him, staring into his eyes. Those big brown eyes shined back.

“I just don’t. I can’t go outside without fucken panicking, without worrying someone will find me. That’s why my ex left me. I couldn’t do anything with her, no, for her. She wanted to go out and do all of these lavish things, but me? I couldn’t. Literally would fucken panic at the thought. Hyperventilate, shake. What the fuck is wrong with me? I wouldn’t want any parts of that either. She got tired of waiting for me to fix myself and left. I can’t blame her, she had every right to. I can’t see myself committing to anything. I’m so accustomed to everyone leaving. I-I can’t put myself through that heartbreak. I don’t want to put myself through heartbreak again. I- I don’t know. I’m scared to get attached. I-” 

You were staring at him, lost in his eyes. Lost in the emotion of his voice as he spoke. Raw, unfiltered, passionate, and real. Every croke as he spoke, every pause, stutter. Your heart was about to break. Who hurt him so badly that they caused him to feel broken? To feel betrayed? To feel so unloveable. You wanted to speak, but you were lost in him confessing his heart to you randomly on a park bench in the center of the city.

“Corpse,” you breathed out, watching the tears begin to well up in his eyes. Wait, he’s about to fucking cry. Holy shit. How do you calm a crying person? Do you even have tissues on you? You’re not prepared for this. 

He turned his head away and cleared his throat, trying to hide his watering eyes, “Fuck I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-uhhhhhh- fuck- uhhh, ignore me.”

“Corpse,” you again said, reaching over to grab his hand. You made contact with the top of his hand, feeling the top of his rings grace underneath your palm. His skin is soft and warm. How the fuck is his skin so soft? You wrapped your hand around his and you lost control, you squeezed his hand to let him know you were there. You were listening, processing his emotion. You were letting him know you cared. 

“Thank you, y/n.” he looked back over at you, flipping his hand around so your palms are now touching. He intertwined your fingers together. His eyes are watering still, now vulnerable and more alive.

You were holding hands. Your heart began racing, you imagined it would jump out of your chest. He scooted himself directly next to you, your legs touching now. He rested his head on your shoulder, keeping your hands intertwined. His hair smelled like… was that cherry blossoms? His head was heavy on your shoulders, but it never felt so perfectly placed. He let out a deep sigh and you felt the breath on your shoulders. You began to panic inside, but it wasn’t a bad panic. It was a nervous panic. 

“Of course,” you whisper, laying your head on top of his, “damaged goods gotta stick together.”