#this has been the worst goddamn week ive had in a very fucking long time

[aropride]

oh my god . okay i havent complained abt it in a while but since december 2021 when i got covid for the first* time (*you’ll see) ive been getting dizzy/lightheaded a lot, have random coughing fits, am even more sensitive to heat (i cant breathe in hot cars Like i start choking which was already a thing bc asthma but its worse now), and have frequently almost passed out after walking around for too long or just after standing up. (idk how many times ive actually passed out bc i cant remember really but its happened at least once). at first i chalked it up to Being Out Of Exercize and then i was like wait this isnt normal. and i wasnt eating well at the time and brushed it off as that but it continued even after i started eating somewhat better (altho it was a little less bad)

anyway eventually i was like yeah i probably have long covid or smth (also have pots symptoms guessing caused by covid) but i dont have a doctor (& dont know how to get one & dont have money & dont have transportation) so i havent been officially tested for anything

but the one thing that kept me from being like yes this is definitely bc of covid is in my senior year of highschool (started in sept 2020) (a year i have very few memories from so hard to compare symptoms) i remembered always being super out of breath + dizzy + lightheaded after walking up the stairs to my classes on the second floor. like id have to stand there for a second and breathe n shit and my friend was like “thats not good u should tell ur doctor” . but yeah i was like well maybe its just asthma and im exaggerating and its always been like this

WELL. i just remembered. in february 2020 i had this really awful cold. oone of the worst id ever had. coughing my fucking lungs up, couldnt breathe well, everytthing tasted weird. it lasted abt 2 weeks. You can see where this is goingg. i literally remember my mom saying like “wouldnt it be fucked up if tbat awful cold u had a couple months ago was covid” during like may2020.

and EARLY 2020 IS WHEN MY SYMPTOMS STARTED. and they got worse for a couple months and then stayed the same and i guess i got used to it UNTIL. i got covid in dec2021.

(ID: the “newsflash asshole” meme but the guy speaking has been edited over with a stick figure wearing a mask with wide eyes. the caption reads “newsflash asshole! it’s been long covid the entire goddamn time!” end ID)

[marcos-scorpion]

Forever Yours - Eddie Munson x Reader

hello my lovelies! this is vaguely self indulgent- aka reader is alternative (no descriptions of body type/skin colour etc just style) because ive read loads of eddie x cheerleader reader stuff and its mega cute, but my little rockstar gf aesthetic heart needed this. i’m saying this now, as a warning. there will be no happy ending here for eddie and our dear reader. this is just sad. more stuff based from my best (and worst) relationship, like my Adrian Chase x reader from a few months ago. i have a few ideas for part two, but as i said, it wont be a happy ending. i’m at a place in my life where fluff is all i read but I cannot write it. lemme know what you think, and send me any requests ! Xoxo, moth

word count- 2880

warnings- angst !!! (!!!!!), smoking (weed and cigarettes), blood (mega brief), very light sexual hints (like one line lmao), reader is sad, eddie is sad, everyone is sad (if you guys spot more warning lemme know)

~~~

My boots crunched heavily against the foliage as I walked through the woods towards my favourite smoke spot, partially hoping my boyfriend would already be there. Well, he won’t be my boyfriend for much longer. I stomped harder at the thought, scowl deepening. This was the fourth time this week alone that Eddie fucking Munson had left me waiting for a date or planned meet-up. You’d think after almost three years together, he’d know how angry this would make me. Apparently fucking not, as he once again disappeared before our plans to skip the rest of the day and go smoke by Lover’s lake. Our standard Friday, as always. I waited by his van for twenty goddamn minutes until I couldn’t take it anymore, if he wasn’t gonna show, I was gonna go smoke on my own instead. 

I was almost at the bench when I heard his voice. What the fuck? Oh I was going to kill him. I get a little closer, peering through the trees. 

“…the queen of Hawkins High.” I freeze. He can’t be with her. He is not hanging out with Chrissy fucking Cunningham. I stand, motionless behind a tree, watching him pull out all his cute, flirty theatrics, in the same place he’d used them on me all those years ago. Watched him stumble back from the bench, watched him smile and jump around, pull the collar of his shirt down to show her a tattoo I HAD DESIGNED for him. Oh this man has a deathwish. When he invited her to see his band, I felt my heart drop to my stomach. The anger in my chest dissipated, and my breath caught in my throat as I listened to the rest of their conversation. For so long, I had been the only one going to support his shows, the only one cheering him on, driving him to band practice. I watched her smile and giggle, totally enthralled by my Eddie. He was like that, ever the charmer, always entertaining. I could see that in the way she was looking at him, but what hurt was the way he was looking at her. It had been weeks, months even, since he’d looked at me like that. 

I zoned out for the rest of their conversation, stepping back further into the foliage when I realised she was standing to leave. I watched the blush rise on his cheeks as she walked away. I knew I had been losing the love of my life for a few weeks now, but this cemented it. He wasn’t mine anymore. 

I had always thought that me and Eds were perfect for each other. We had the same taste in music, a similar style, and the same interests, as nerdy as they may be. The rockstar, and the rockstar’s girlfriend, in every way possible. 

I was freezing cold, despite the warm spring air, and my fishnets and little dress were doing nothing to cover the goosebumps rising on my skin. I watch Chrissy scamper down the little path that leads back to the football field, heart hammering in my chest as Eddie groans, standing as well. 

Once I was sure he was gone, I sat at the bench myself, starting to roll a joint before I even realised I was crying. Shit. I was not going to cry over anyone, let alone a man. Running my nails over the chains piled across my neck, I easily found the one with the big letter E. As I tightened my fingers around it, sharp edges drawing little lines of blood, I began to sob. 

I lit my joint with shaking hands, sobbing harder when I realised my nails were painted to match his oh so precious guitar. Letting the weed cloud my brain was easy, but losing the image of Chrissy and Eddie was proving more difficult. 

~~~

I’m not sure exactly how long I sat on that bench, long enough for the joint to turn to ash, along with most of my pack of cigarettes. The walk back to my house was long, having chosen to walk to school in the morning presuming I would be crashing at Eddie’s, another of our Friday traditions. No one was home when I got back, but they weren’t expecting me back either. My family had long since stopped trying to control my whereabouts, and they actually quite liked Eddie once they got to know him. 

Quickly changing into my pyjamas, I began taking off my painstakingly applied eyeliner. I’d been trying to look nice for Eddie, maybe catch his attention the way I used to. His eyes would light up from across the room at just a glimpse of me.  Not anymore. 

As I sat moping, Metallica playing softly from the beat up mixtape Eddie made me so long ago, I decided I couldn’t do this any longer. Leaving would hurt, but nothing hurt more than watching the way the love of my life was staring at Chrissy. 

I understood why he would look at her like that. Even if she had (accidentally or not) stolen my boyfriend, I couldn’t bring myself to hate her. I doubt anyone could hate her. Chrissy Cunningham. She was everything I wasn’t. Athletic, friendly, endlessly beautiful. The clean, preppy girl aesthetic was so cute, and she was too kind of a person to genuinely dislike. 

It was final nail in the coffin for me, watching the cutesy interaction in the woods. And, with a few more tears smudging the leftover eyeliner I could never quite fully remove, I began removing all traces of Eddie’s presence in my room. 

~~~

Driving to school in my own car felt weird on Monday, but after not speaking to Eddie all weekend, it was something I would have to become accustomed to, despite desperately hoping to open my front door to the site of Eddie’s van waiting for me. The Doc Martens shoe box in my passenger seat was glaringly obvious in the corner of my eye, filled with the memory, and remnants, of my loving relationship. Polaroids and notes were littered across a few neatly folded items of clothing, freshly washed and devoid of any of my perfume, including two Hellfire shirts, and a custom Corroded Coffin crop top I had made to surprise him on our two year anniversary. There was a guitar pick somewhere in the box, carved with my initials, thrown from the dingy stage to me, amongst the crowds of drunks. The worst was my favourite necklace. A gift from so long ago, the E pendant, having been switched from chain to chain as they broke from eager hands pulling me for a kiss, held painfully taut as he replaced it with his hand, deepening the kiss, had been a permanent and prominent part of the stack of jewellery I wore every day. A screaming reminder of love we held, of who I belonged to, whether in a dingy bar or the busy hallways of Hawkins High. 

There were other small, but painfully meaningful, items in the box. A ticket from the first gig we went to as a couple, the pressed corsage from the only dance I had managed to convince Eddie to go to, the beer bottle top from the night of our first kiss, high and hazy under the stars, and a mug that had been a gift from Wayne, the man taking a liking to me almost instantly. 

“You gotta marry this girl Eds, you ain’t gonna get better than this.” Had been his uncle’s words the night I first met him. I had shown up at the Munson trailer, dark painted lips pulled between my teeth as I presented Wayne with a tub of homemade chilli, a smaller tub of cookies balanced on top. I hadn’t wanted to go empty-handed, but I had doubted the older man would’ve been thankful for flowers the way my mother had been when meeting Eddie. I wasn’t a great cook, but as I was to spend the weekend at the trailer, I didn’t want to eat his food and live in Wayne’s space without at least something. I’d left after that weekend with one of the mugs from his prized collection, and a deal I would cook for him again. 

I had held so much anger for my lost love, it almost bubbling over at the sight of Eddie in the woods with another girl. But it faded when he invited her to see his band, and it had been completely replaced with a hollow empty sensation as I began removing any trace of Eddie Munson from my life. 

The likelihood of Eddie actually being at school on a Monday, either on time or at all, wasn’t high, but it honestly would be easier to leave the box in his locker than to actually face him. Luck, however, wasn’t on my side, as I approached where his locker was, if the small crowd of freshmen gathered was anything to go by. 

I knew these kids, had spent hours supervising D&D sessions, driving them home, making sure they were safe in the hellscape of high school. Max stood out in the group of boys, being the only one not in a Hellfire shirt. I had grown close to the girl, starting with just driving her places after the loss of her brother, but developing into teaching her how to do her eyeliner and gifting her old band shirts as she began to develop her own little ‘skater girl’ style. My breakup with Eddie was going to put a rift between me and the kids I’d grown to care about, the boys would inevitably choose their precious dungeon master, but I at least hoped Max would still speak to me. 

“Kiddos,” I began, startling the group with their backs to me, “Where’s your leader?” I was praying they would say he wasn’t here, that he hadn’t shown up but they were waiting for him just in case. I did not expect Dustin to look at me sadly before nodding over his shoulder. None of them spoke, but the way they were all staring at me settled dread deep in my heart. Peering past Mike and Lucas, there he was. 

Stood next to Chrissy at her locker. I was surprised that he hadn’t been jumped by the basketball team yet. 

At this point, I had nothing left in me but a sigh at the sight. I mustered up a sad grin for the kids still staring at me, before holding out the box towards them. 

“Will one of you give him this please, tell him to make sure he reads the letter first, but not till he’s home?” None of them moved, so I pushed the box lightly into Dustin’s chest. They’d been watching Eddie fall out of love with me the same way I was, but they were more prepared for the end than me. 

As Dustin took the box, he spoke. “I’m sorry Y/N, he must’ve lost his mind.” I offered them one more shaky smile before turning on my heel, walking away towards my first class. 

I didn’t see him for the first half of the day, being in the highest set for my classes, but I knew lunch would be difficult. I had too much pride to not sit at the same table I had for all those years, with our friends. 

He cornered me before I even made it into the lunch hall at my usual smoke spot just outside the edge of campus. He had the shoebox tucked under his arm, but I could see the tape holding it shut was still in place. He hadn’t opened it yet. He hadn’t read the letter yet. 

“Wanna explain what this is sweetheart?” The pet name held no love, the kindness from his voice completely missing. There was no anger there, but the lack of emotion burned worse. I shrugged, dropping the last of my cigarette before stomping it out a little too aggressively. 

“Some of your stuff back, thought you might miss it.” I had nothing to say, everything I wanted was written in that letter, the tear smudged ink spilled everything I had felt for these last months. I was taking the cowards way out, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to vocalise everything without breaking down. 

I turned to walk away, but he fell into step beside me as we walked to lunch together for the last time. 

~~~

I knew he was heading straight home after school, he always did on Mondays, as he reserved the evening to practising new songs on his guitar. I used to sit with him, gentle encouragement along with small acknowledgment every time there was a wrong chord or missed note. 

And when I returned home that afternoon, and sat on the edge of my bed, I realised how empty my room was without his presence, be it his belongings or his body stretched across my bed. I won’t say how much I cried that day, but my chest burned as I fell asleep, face still wet.

I would never have assumed, across town, Eddie would go to sleep in a similar way. 

~~~

He respected my wishes, confused as to why he couldn’t open the box sooner, and as to why I had apparently written him a letter. Somewhere in his brain, he knew something wasn’t right, but he pushed it aside. 

For the first time in memory, Eddie broke his Monday routine. He didn’t even greet his guitar as he walked into his room, the shoebox taking up all of his mind. He lifted the letter out first, not really paying attention to the contents. Unfolding the yellow paper, his hands shook as he began reading. 

Eddie my love, 

I truly never thought it would come to this. I never expected to have to write to you in this way. Oh Eds, I hate to say this, but I know. I know you don’t love me anymore. It’s ok, I understand. I’m not upset. Well, I am, but not because of that. I’m upset because I should have realised sooner, should have said something, fought harder for our love. But if its not me you want, I can’t argue that. I want the best for you, and if that’s not me, I can accept that. It burns, knowing I’m not enough, but I could never be upset at you for that. I don’t think I can ever be upset or angry at you for long, no matter how hard I try. You were, and still are, my everything, my rockstar, but I can’t sit alongside you in silence anymore. I don’t remember the last time you looked at me with any real emotion, the last time we spent time together, just us. I don’t remember the last time you told me you loved me, when you last kissed me. I was your favourite girl, but I know now that I’m not anymore. I’m gonna miss you Eds, but as much as it hurts to let go, I can’t stand by as your girlfriend as you fall in love with someone else. All I ask of you my love, is that you take care of yourself, that you’re happy, but that you take care of her too, don’t let this happen to her, because no one deserves to feel this pain. And please, don’t make this harder than it already is, don’t try and win me back, convince me of what I already know isn’t true. You will always have a piece of my heart Eddie, don’t destroy it by trying to come back. I hope you know you’ll always be my favourite boy. 

Forever yours, 

Y/N 

He could feel the tears at his lash line build as he read, his heart sinking with every syllable. Gently smoothing the paper, he ran his fingers over the black lipstick mark next to my name. He wouldn’t cry, he had caused this, and he had to live with it. 

His attempt not to cry was made more difficult as he removed each item from the box, thumb swiping over my face in every photo. He lifted each piece of clothing to his face, but the tears built more as he realised they smelled too clean. He frowned as he lifted Wayne’s mug. The man was going to be so disappointed, not only at the loss of a girl he genuinely liked, but at how his nephew had caused all of this. 

The dam finally burst as cool metal met his fingers. The last thing in the box. The necklace. His tears dripped onto the pile of papers and fabric on his lap, which he quickly moved, not wanting to risk ruining any of the last pieces of me he could hold on to. Gently wrapping the chain around his fingers, the true meaning of this loss hit him. 

I had let him go, like he was so sure he had wanted. I had given him permission to love Chrissy. But now, with the metal slowly warming in his palm, he realised the only thing he would ever want was me. 

And he realised he was too late. 

[1kook]

skirt chasers — drabble iv

THIS IS A SKIRT CHASERS DRABBLE - FIND THE OTHERS HERE ! SUMMARY Jungkook was a man. A skirt chaser. He could only withstand so much torture before he broke, and seeing your gorgeous, smooth legs on display after so many weeks of starvation awoke an ancient being inside of him. WARNINGS JK POV!!!, attempted solo masturbation, k*ssing, jk’s extensive knowledge of pornos, grinding, cunnilingus, face sitting, spit kink, light choking, praise kink, self nipple play, a love for boobies, unprotected sex, use of the pull out method, i love u kink, its kinda hinted tht oc has a somnophilia kink? not rlly but tagging just in case -_- RATING m (18+) WC 6.3k this can't even classified as a drabble anymore wtf 

NOTES i have had this in my drafts since may 3. it is december 21. everyone point n laugh. anyway i very much love stimbo sc jk and i think he’s very cool so here’s a whopping 6k of the inner mechanisms of his big nerdy, college hottie brain <3

He doesn’t notice you’ve drifted off until he’s three solid paragraphs into his semester-long research paper. “Babe, can you toss me my charger it’s over…” 

 Jungkook swears he’s gonna take every single one of those stupid skirts and burn them to ashes. They had done their duty well, had given him the girlfriend of his dreams, but now they were just pushing their luck. What was once the epitome of a cute and sweet girlfriend, has now become the bane of Jungkook’s existence. He loathed them, he hated them, he could go twenty million decades without ever seeing them again because the torture they inflicted upon him was borderline inhumane. 

 Holy fuck, he knew you were gorgeous— hello, he was your boyfriend, thinking you were gorgeous was very high on the list of requirements you searched for in someone of his position —but he’s absolutely positive that you’re probably the sexiest woman he’s ever seen in all his twenty-two years. And Jungkook’s seen a lot of porn. Like, a lot. 

He can’t help himself. Before Jungkook knows it, he’s rolling his desk chair over to where you’re sprawled across his bed, skin so soft where it presses against his pillow, lips so plush, and he’s pretty sure there’s a tiny, tiny droplet of drool begging to escape from between your puckered lips. Normally, he’d tease you to hell and back for this, knows how flustered you become when he catches you off guard, but today he lets it slide in favor of focusing on something else about your dozing form. 

It’s the soft curve of your hips from where you lay on your side, smooth legs tucked close to you, and that goddamn pleated skirt giving you absolutely no protection from the eyes of the world around you. Luckily, he made sure to lock the door to his room when you came over today. And he’s almost positive Taehyung isn’t home anyway. So there’s no potential roommate to see you here, cuddled against Jungkook’s teddy bear, blue lace panties tucked between your folds. 

They were his favorite. 

Adorable and soft, and he knows that particular style— the cheeky kind —is your preferred style, because it’s the one he sees almost every time the two of you fuck. Seamless, because you hate when they tug against your skin, and baby blue simply because it was your favorite color. He can’t recall the last time they had been so exposed like this. 

God, how many times had this same situation occurred? You dropping by to encourage him to do his homework, before eventually falling asleep and leaving him to his own devices. A lot of times, Jungkook guesses, because each and every time you wake up and nab one of his protein bars from the stash by his bed. Jungkook’s gone through four boxes in the last month. 

But how many times had this happened with you in a skirt? Never. This was a rarity. 

As the year progressed and yours and Jungkook’s relationship reached new levels of intimacy and adoration, Jungkook is sad to say the skirts had begun appearing less and less. It was winter and, unlike the furnace that was Jungkook’s body, he’s pretty sure you were a cold-blooded reptilian at this point, always leeching off of him for warmth. So since you couldn’t stand the cold, the skirts slowly faded into the background, replaced by Jungkook’s second favorite: the leggings. 

He was no complainer, Jungkook respected your decisions! He wasn’t going to pressure you into wearing those cute tiny skirts he loved so much just because it fueled some PornHub-esque fantasy in his brain, especially not as a harsh winter descended upon you and the days became colder. He would not risk a sick girlfriend in the name of a horndog daydream. 

But holy mother of pearl, Jungkook was a man. A skirt chaser. He could only withstand so much torture before he broke, and seeing your gorgeous, smooth legs on display after so many weeks of starvation awoke an ancient being inside of him. 

Sure he’d seen them every time you guys fucked— duh. But this was not the same. It was different, seeing the tender skin of your inner thigh when he knew you weren’t trying to, your skirt stuck between you and the bed as you shifted about. It was different, knowing he could so easily have you, just flip up the skirt and tug your underwear to the side, not having to worry about fighting your leggings or skinny jeans down your legs. It was different and it was good, so painstakingly good, to have you in the skirt, but the worst part was Jungkook couldn’t even do anything because you were fucking sleeping. 

He’d subconsciously pictured you like this for weeks, sprawled out on his sheets in the flimsiest clothing and ready for him to just slide right in, but Jungkook was a good boy—you’d told him as much just last week when he’d paid the bus fare for that ragtag group of teenagers, smiling up at him like he was your entire world. Was he sometimes a little too mean, a little too wild? Yes. But at his core, Jungkook lived for your praise. He couldn’t just stomp on that title you’d so lovingly bestowed upon him, a title he’d worked hard for since! 

Furthermore, even if Jungkook wasn’t a good boy, to touch you in your sleep just seemed wrong. You’d mentioned in passing once that you wouldn’t mind as long as it was him (“I’m yours,” you had purred at some party, hand crawling down his abdomen, “your doll, remember?”), but Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to when you were so vulnerable and just… not there. It wouldn’t feel right to use your body when you weren’t awake, and no amount of encouragement from you would change his mind. 

So he does what all good boys do and prepares himself for a quick, self-administered handfuck. 

Sue him, his girlfriend was hot!

It’d been a little over two weeks since the last time the two of you had fucked, and it was mostly his fault; clinicals and research papers had practically consumed what little free time he had in his schedule. And if Jungkook remembers correctly, he wouldn’t be that lucky this upcoming week either. Something tells him your period was approaching. 

Jungkook doesn’t know what type of sorcery you’ve done to him, but in the time you’ve been dating, it’s become increasingly more and more difficult to nut without you. Whether that be fucking you, listening to your voice, or just imagining your pretty face in his head, you held a monopoly over Jungkook’s libido, one that he feared you’d never let go. 

He had years stacked on years of browsing PornHub and Brazzers, can recall experiencing some of the craziest orgasms of his life while watching some girl get fucked. All things come to an end. Ever since he started dating you, not even his favorite video could make him hard anymore. Oh, how the great have fallen. 

But with your blue panties before him, his cock hardens by the minute, nearly doubles in size when you move about and sigh a heavenly sound. Frankly, he doesn’t feel bad jerking one off to the thought of you. You were his girlfriend! He knows that you know that you’re the main character of all his right-handed adventures, and you’re not going to be mad at him for jerking off to you now. In fact, Jungkook imagines you’d be mad if he’d woken you up just for some frenzied quickie. This way, he’s blowing off some steam and you’re getting an extra ten minutes of napping. Everyone wins. 

He’s barely tugged himself out of the confines of his sweats when a soft mumble of his name has his soul leaving his body. “Kook?” 

“Baby,” he exhales, immediately tucking himself back into his underwear before moving closer towards you. You roll onto your back, skirt useless as fuck, he thinks, as it sprawls around your waist. “What’s up?” he murmurs, voice gentle, a hand carding through the nape of your neck because that’s how you always wake him up. Jungkook would be a liar to say it wasn’t one of the best feelings in the world. 

You say something, but it’s a mess of gibberish and too quiet for him to understand, before turning on your side again and shuffling closer to him. Jungkook smiles, runs the tips of his fingers over your cheek, before moving to caress your back, massaging some feeling back into your muscles. Some more mumbled words, but this time he deciphers them as something along the lines of “c’mere.” 

He chuckles, ducking down to kiss your cheek. “Don’t wanna interrupt your nap, baby,” he hums. “Go back to sleep.” 

You whine in protest, suddenly catching his hand in yours. “Please,” you sigh, eyes fluttering open, but they’re unfocused as you gaze at him. Jungkook clenches his teeth. Technically he should be working on that twelve page research paper, and even just trying to jerk off right now would have been a huge setback. Crawling into bed with you, where you’re so sinfully laid out for him to take, would completely offset his plans until tomorrow. He had to be a responsible student here. 

“I really gotta finish my paper…” he says, trying to let you down as gently as possible, flashing you an apologetic gaze. He thinks he has it in the bag, and your extended silence almost has him rolling back to his desk, when you suddenly snap into action. 

“But what about your dick,” you murmur, and Jungkook chokes. 

“My what—?” he splutters, voice a little too high. 

You say nothing, craning your neck to release a series of cracks, soft huffs leaving your lips. Jungkook’s on edge the whole time, eyes following the movement of your neck, the hypnotizing expanse of skin that bares itself to him. “Saw your hand down your pants,” you say, eyes blinking open, and though they’re droopy with sleep, at least you can hold them open this time. 

Jungkook laughs nervously, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck in embarrassment. “You saw that?” A soft hum. He wants to die. “Ah, baby, don’t worry about it. Know you’re tired, so just nap,” he sighs, caressing the back of your head once again, and he thinks he’s finally convinced you so he lets his guard down. 

You moan softly, and he’s almost entirely sure it’s one of those waking up types of sounds, the ones you make when you’re stretching around the bed in the morning. “Want your cock.” 

Jungkook swears he’ll die, right here, right now. 

He groans, lowers his head to rest on the mattress. “Jesus, fuck, baby,” he huffs, has to count to ten to will the stirring of his slowly hardening cock away for the second time that day. “Don’t say stuff like that when you’re half asleep, please.”

You ignore him, the hand that had been wrapped around his wrist tugging him closer. You barely succeed, muscles still so weak, but Jungkook humors you and rolls his chair right beside your head, where he ducks down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Noooo,” you whine when he draws away too quickly. 

A laugh blossoms in his chest, and Jungkook proceeds to rain down a series of kisses on your pretty face before he can stop himself. You melt under his touch, his affection, and Jungkook adores the way your body is so soft and pliant like this, back arching towards him after he places a hand on your waist. 

“Come here,” you urge, voice a quiet plea. So soft, so needy. 

Jungkook malfunctions for just a second before he’s clambering over you on the bed, manhandling your body until you're both on your sides, facing each other, with you pressed tightly to his chest. Even with your hands brushing up and down his back in the way that sends every nerve in Jungkook’s body tingling, and your leg thrown over his hip, some stupid part of him convinces himself you’re just cold, trying to warm up after walking around campus in that tiny little skirt all day. He cuddles you as best as he can. 

And even with his dick twitching in his pants and his caveman instincts yelling at him to thrust up into your inviting core, Jungkook remains as professional as someone in a relationship can be when in bed with their lover. He’s so stuck on his self-control that he almost doesn’t hear the snort you muffle against his neck. 

“What are you doing?” you laugh, reaching up to pinch his cheek. Jungkook blinks, eyes wide like a doe caught in headlights. “Are we gonna fuck or what?”

He chokes. He doesn’t even try to muffle his reaction like other times, because the way you’re looking at him and the heel you press against the back of his thigh preoccupies his thoughts instead. Your hands are still tracing along his back, melting him with your dainty touches. “Baby?” you question after he’s been silent too long, distracted by the way you use that hooked leg to tug your bodies closer. 

“You… you’re still asleep,” Jungkook says, though it’s definitely a question. 

You scoff, a smile curling around your features. “Mm, definitely not asleep,” you tease, and shift to push him onto his back, wiggling on top of him until those baby blue panties are pressed against his quickly hardening member. “Why? Wanted to touch me when I was asleep?” you continue, and Jungkook’s eyes nearly burst out of their sockets. 

“No!” he exclaims, hands clutching your hips in alarm. He can tell he surprises you, because your eyes go wide for a brief second. “Never…” he mumbles afterwards, looking away from your imploring gaze. “Only like you when you’re awake.” 

You sigh, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek that makes his heart flood with adoration for you. “You’re a good boy, Jungkook,” you say back, just as quietly. “A blueprint for the perfect man.” Another kiss, this time against the corner of his mouth that makes Jungkook’s hands twitch against your sides. 

A soft moan tears itself from his throat, fingers digging into your hips as you slowly roll them against him. The heat emanating from your core seeps past the thin barrier of his sweatpants, makes his cock twitch in his boxers. He knows how it feels inside of you, has your body memorized like the back of his hand. But it’s in moments like these that he finds himself aching for you, desperate to feel the fluttering walls of your pussy, the pitiful whimpers that fall from your kiss swollen lips. And, well. The skirt makes it all too easy.  

He places two hands on the backs of your thighs, runs them up until he’s pushing your skirt up over your waist. You pull away from his lips with a sneaky little smile, pointer finger stroking down the side of his face lazily. “Mm?” you tease, leaving a coy little peck against his mouth. “Now you wanna touch?” Jungkook rolls his eyes, snaps his teeth at your wandering finger when you draw it too close to his mouth. The giggle you let out is so damn precious, makes him want to put you in a glass case and never let anyone else touch you. Coincidentally, it also makes him want to rail you into the mattress until you cry. 

“I’ll fucking ruin you, doll,” he settles on murmuring, subtly pushing you down against him. A soft giggle. Jungkook knows it’s your favorite nickname, even if you won’t admit it. He's the only one allowed to call you it, something about his intentions being pure or whatever, he’s not really sure. Anyway, you’re still so cute and soft on top of him, blinking slowly and prettily, so he’s dragging it out a bit, hoping you’ll become more alert in a few more minutes. 

As sleepy as you may be, you never miss out on a chance to rile him up. “As if, doll,” you retort, his nickname for you rolling off your tongue seamlessly. It sounds heavenly, sparks this weird emotion in him that he never considered before. Him, a doll? No way. But there’s something about the sweet lilt of your voice, the starry-eyed gaze you level him with, that has him throwing all reservations aside. Put him on a shelf and call him Barbie, because he would be anything you wanted him to be. 

Anyway, Jungkook’s sappy thoughts last all of two seconds before he’s rolling you over, successfully trapping you beneath his body. “Oh, so scary,” you feign, hands fluttering to clutch at your chest. 

He glides his hands down your body, let’s them trail over your hip and down the side of your thigh. “Don’t get sassy with me,” he warns, thumb peeking beneath the hem of your skirt. Jungkook really wants to burn the piece of fabric this time, because after all that time it spent torturing him with its halfhearted attempts at covering you, it chooses now to do it properly. 

Hands are thrown around his shoulders, the overwhelming scent of your perfume and body wash tickling his nose when you pull him in for another kiss. “Or what?” you purr, irises swirling with lust. “Gonna use your manly man strength to hold me down?” 

He shushes you with a kiss, slow and languid just how you like. Your taste is familiar, feels like coming home, so Jungkook can’t be blamed for getting too carried away. It starts gentle— it always does. But then a tiny mewl gets stuck in your throat, the following moan swallowed by his tongue, and Jungkook nearly loses it. He nips at your bottom lip, waits patiently for you to open up for him, and when you do he wastes no time diving in. Your tongue against his is slick and wet, makes the most lewd sound. Your little sharp intakes of air fill the gaps, shuddery breaths that Jungkook takes as a good sign. 

He strikes while the iron is still hot. 

It’s amidst your lazy kissing that he secures his hands around your waist, two reassuring squeezes thrown your way before he’s abruptly rolling onto his back again. “Kook!” you squeal, clutching at the front of his shirt. A pouty frown paints your face, sleepy eyes narrowing him with a rather unimpressed look, tainted with the barest hints of confusion. 

Jungkook grins, reaching back to yank his pillow out from beneath his head. “On my face,” he commands suddenly, and you snort. 

“What?” you ask a little incredulously, leaning back to level him with an even more lost expression. “Since when do we do that?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Since I decided twenty seconds ago,” he answers rather bluntly. You still don’t look too convinced. It’s not a position the two of you have ever tried. You’re a little on the sappy side, always like to look at his face while you fuck, hold his cheeks in your palms, kiss him sweetly. On the one hand, Jungkook totally gets it; he’ll proudly admit that the sight of your orgasming face paired with your fantastic tits have done him many favors these past few months. 

However, Jungkook is a lover of head. Giving or receiving, it’s very high on his list of sexual acts and whoever invented oral deserved all the praise in the world. Not only did you look drop dead gorgeous with his cock in your mouth— tears trailing down your cheeks, drool clinging to the corners of your lips —but you also looked absolutely sexy receiving it. 

Kinda. 

Probably. 

Okay, so maybe Jungkook can’t really say, considering he always has a hard time catching a glimpse of your face when he’s down there licking and slurping your clit like a madman. Which is what leads him to this exact moment, an experiment weeks in the making. Jungkook has a theory that needs to be tested. “Please ride the fuck out of my face,” he tries, hoping the polite tone will win you over. 

He’s met with an eye roll. Still, you’re kinder than you let on. “Okay,” you give in, and Jungkook will remember your heroism for the rest of his life. “But only because being on top is empowering.” He just barely contains an over-enthusiastic fist pump into the air, settling on a rather modest smile that has you leaning down to kiss him again. You reach for the zipper on the side of your skirt. “Just let me—“

“The skirt stays on,” he says quickly, hand on your wrist to stop you from removing his most favorite article of clothing. 

“Baby,” you say, giving him a rather serious look. “It’ll cover your face.”

“It won’t,” he urges, reaching for the buttons on your blouse instead. Jungkook has had one too many encounters with tops like these, and has long since learned not to tear them apart like a crazed psycho. As much as he loves the sound of your buttons scattering across his bedroom floor, he can’t say he’s too fond of the scolding he inevitably gets afterwards. Anyway, the shirt comes off and so does your bra, leaving your tits in his face, tiny skirt on your hips. “Get up here,” he murmurs, ushering you up his body until your knees are pressing into the mattress right above his shoulders. 

If it was up to Jungkook, he would have just grabbed your hips and shoved his face against your pussy. Luckily, it’s not, and your common sense shines through just in time. “One sec,” you say, and then finally, finally, the blue panties come off. 

And then it’s just Jungkook and your glistening pussy. 

“Holy fuck,” he groans, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around your thighs. You squeak when he pulls you closer, hand instinctively reaching for the front of your skirt to hold away from his face. The view from here is heavenly, just your swollen clit, gorgeous tits, and shy face. 

The muscles in your thighs are a little stiff. Or maybe you’re just nervous. Jungkook isn’t sure, all he knows is that it takes one encouraging tug for you to finally sit on his face. He doesn’t even register the surprised gasp that leaves your throat because he’s too busy tasting your pussy from an all new position. And it’s absolutely amazing. 

Something about the position, having you carefully poised above him, does something to Jungkook. He likes to think he knows your body inside and out, knows what makes you melt and what makes you scream. He knows just how to lap at your cunt until you’re cumming, and how many fingers it takes for you to really feel it. But it’s like having you in this position changes all of that, rearranges all the tidbits of information Jungkook has spent months collecting. 

(Jungkook is a meticulous man; he’s got a near perfect GPA right now that was the direct result of his carefully crafted note-taking techniques. Whether or not he abused the power of his perfectionist learning abilities to master the mechanisms of his girlfriend’s libido was no one's business but his own.) 

One kitten lick against your swollen pearl makes you buck forward, clit brushing against his nose. Jungkook can’t remember you ever doing that on the first lick. “O- oh my—,” you cry, all airy and whiny. Your hand is pressed to the wall behind his bed, the other bunching the front of your skirt just above your mound. He’s rather happy to learn that, just as he’d hypothesized, this position does give him a better view of you. 

He’s graced with the sight of your face, twisted up in pleasure. It’s the stereotypical eyes squeezed shut, lip caught between your teeth look. But there’s something different about it knowing that he’s gotten this reaction out of you with his mouth alone. 

Jungkook quickly repositions you over him, tugging you back until his tongue is lined up with the front of your slit. You’re so warm down here, make him feel like he’s drowning with your heady scent alone. Tentatively, he lets his tongue dip between your folds, the very tip nudging your swollen clit. A moan tears itself from your throat, the hand that had been flush against the wall suddenly jumping forward to bury itself in his hair. “Oh- oh, fuck,” you shiver, hips jolting forward once more. 

You taste good on his tongue, the arousal that coats your lips is sticky and sweet. When he laps his tongue along your folds, quivering hole to stiffened bud, you let out a sob that resonates deeply within Jungkook. And also Jungkook’s cock, which stirs beneath his trousers in excitement. What was once the focus of his mission, a quick handfuck to sedate himself before finishing his research paper, has long since been forgotten. It’s for the greater good, he tells himself, blinking up at you from between your thighs. 

Eye contact lasts for exactly three seconds before you’re looking away bashfully, the fist clutching at your skirt trembling against your tummy. You’re so fucking pretty, Jungkook’s heart can’t take it. 

And so he sets out on a mission to make you cum as soon as possible, abandoning his slow kitten licks in favor of suctioning his lips around your clit. “Kook,” you wail, tugging at his hair. Whether you do it purposely or not, Jungkook is a little shocked by how good the pain feels. It’s not an emotion he can ponder long, because then you’re using that same grip in his hair to tilt his head backwards, jerkily moving over him. 

It’s rough and sudden, the buck against his face, but Jungkook loves it. The drag of your pussy against his lips, the wet glide of your juices smearing across his chin and Cupid’s bow. It all feels so good, and the fact Jungkook is getting a front row seat to the absolutely torn look on your face is just the cherry on top. 

Jungkook has seen you make a lot of faces. He’s seen you shiver and drool as he nails you into your bed. He’s seen you sniffle and sob as he slowly fucks you in a rose petal filled bubble bath (a six month anniversary special planned by yours truly). He’s even seen your mirrored reflection fall apart as you bounced away on his lap in front of a mirror. 

He’s never seen you like this before. 

Needy and desperate, moaning his name softly, practically humping his face in your greed. Tiny skirt clutched against your waist, tits bouncing as you hurriedly grind against him. He has half the mind to burn this scene into his eyelids for the rest of his life. 

He’s given up on doing anything with his tongue, simply sticking it out for you to do as you wish. Normally, he’s not a huge fan of letting you do things yourself. After all, Jungkook was your boyfriend. Making you cum was his job. But you’re moving so fast, so frantic, in your mission to cum. So Jungkook sits back and lets you go to town on his mouth as a series of moans spill from your lips. 

And then something unforgivable happens. 

Jungkook will admit it: he’s staring at you almost a little too dreamily, heart eyes and all. He thinks you’re fucking hot, taste like heaven and have these absolutely delicious boobs bouncing up and down. He’s a little distracted by your glorious figure that he doesn’t notice one crucial bit of information. 

Your hand. 

The desperate need to cum has your muscles weakening, thighs moving at a latent pace, and, much to Jungkook’s horror, hands trembling. It’s your own pleasure that lets the unimaginable happen: your skirt flutters down. Your grip on it loosens and before Jungkook knows it, the sight of your pretty face and nice tits are gone, snatched away before his very eyes. Even your wet cunt is impossible to see, his world suddenly shrouded in darkness. 

Leave it to Jungkook to foil his own horny plan with, well, his horniness. If only he wasn’t so hopelessly in love with the image of you in skirts. Maybe then he could bask in the beauty that was you riding his face. 

He acts fast, reaching for the material before he can miss out on anything. But the angle is weird, and without Jungkook’s hands holding your hips, you’re left weakly rolling forward instead. And he’s not the only one frustrated with this turn of events, your face quickly returning to its normal composed form as you level him with a frown. “Everything okay?” you pant. 

Everything was not okay, but Jungkook isn’t sure how to tell you that without ruining this delicate moment. So he tries to show you with actions instead, releasing the skirt he’s got in his fist and letting it flutter over his face again. You giggle. “I told you so.” 

It takes more willpower than he’d like to admit to pull away from your wet folds, pulling off with a lewd sound that has you biting your lip as you gaze down at him. “I told you so,” he mimics, a little mean but you don’t take it to heart. “Hold your skirt up.” 

You hum, the grip on his hair loosening as you push away his dark locks instead. “Mmmm,” you hum. “No.”

“No?” he repeats, actually really scandalized. Okay, so he’s a little spoiled when it comes to you— it’s not his fault! You made him like this, conditioned him to think that you would always give into his every whim because you were just so sweet and considerate and wanted him to be happy. And Jungkook also wants you to be happy, and in his opinion, being happy right now means having him fuck your pretty brains out for ever getting sassy with him. 

“I don’t listen to men,” you tease, followed by a cute little nod, skin still a little warm from your looming orgasm. Jungkook takes advantage of your tiny moment of weakness, and strikes like a viper.

A girlish squeal leaves your lips, hands stretching outwards as he knocks you backwards onto the mattress. “Jungkook,” you gasp, sprawled out artfully, beautifully, over his sheets now. He doesn’t waste a second longer, crawling over your body until you’re a shivering mess beneath him. 

Hand against your throat, the other blindly reaching for the front of his sweatpants. “What is it, doll?” he drawls meanly, reveling in the way your eyes roll back when his newly-freed cock lands against your slit. A choked gasp leaves your throat, lashes fluttering wildly until Jungkook loosens his grip. 

You’ve done a nice job riling yourself up, lips squelching wet and loose when he runs the tip of his cock along them. Your knees are pulled up for him, spread perfectly for him to fit between. You’re so good for him, Jungkook feels a little bad for how hard he’s going to fuck you now. 

The sympathy doesn’t last long.  

Once upon a time, you had been the epitome of a cute and sweet girlfriend. Had picked him up from class, encouraged him to do his homework, wore these cute little skirts around campus. Deep down inside, Jungkook knew everyone else was jealous of him— you were just so pretty and cute, a girl straight out of everyone’s dreams. 

Until he sunk his horny claws into you. Jungkook will be the first to admit he spends a little too much time browsing porn sites— he’s a man, cut him some slack —which had never caused him any problems before. Even when the two of you were just friends (pining ones at that), you had never seemed even remotely affected by his extensive pornographical knowledge. It was a known fact among your friend group that Jungkook’s best friend was his right hand. 

But then, of course, you started dating Jungkook and it was like a save file of all his horniest fantasies was downloaded directly into your brain. Which leads him to this. 

“Spit in my mouth,” you shiver, got these huge, watery eyes pointed his way. His cock twitches. 

There’s a little groan that tears itself from his throat when he leans forward, cock sliding along your folds, to grasp your chin between his fingers. “Open,” he commands, and you do. Your lower lip quivers, tongue pressed against it as you wait for Jungkook to spit down your mouth. He can’t say he regrets letting you peek through his porn stash, not when it leads to this, you whimpering at the hot glob of saliva he shoots down your throat. “Filthy,” he pants, memorizing the movement of your throat when you swallow like the good girl you are. 

Before he can write another twelve sonnets about that dazed look on your face, he’s roughly grabbing at your thigh. You whine, limbs so pliant beneath his touch, letting him hike your knee over his forearm as he tugs you closer. “Fuck,” he groans, reaching down to align himself with your quivering hole. You’re still so wet, make the most lewd sound when he sinks into you. Not that Jungkook really hears it, the sound of your strained moans practically drowning everything else out. 

“Fuck,” you cry, one hand clutching at his forearm, the other toying with your breast. It’s a magnificent sight, and Jungkook is suddenly feeling a little cocky when he realizes he’s the only one who gets to see this. It’s this presumptuous nature that fuels the first round of thrusts into your cunt, fast and full. He makes sure you feel every inch of him, tip to base, as he pistons his hips forward. “J— Jungkook,” you pant, back arching beneath him. 

You take it so well, walls sucking him in every time he draws back out. “I’ve got you, doll,” he moans, hiking your leg further over his shoulder. Every roll of his hips has your tits bouncing back and forth, lower lip as well with the dopey, open-mouthed look you got on for him. And the damned skirt that got him here, fucking you with a punishing pace, sits perfectly around your waist. He has half the mind to take it off for you, briefly wonders if it hurts, but just looking at it reminds him of about thirty-seven pornos he’s seen. So it stays on, works alongside your lovestruck face to actively rewrite all those pornos anew with you starring in them instead. 

It sure helps when you start your usual mindless babbling. “I love you,” you gasp, face screwed up in pleasure. “I- I love you so much.” 

He’s contemplating doing a study on you and your weird mid-fuck confessions. You do this a lot, and while Jungkook doesn’t mind, it sure does leave him curious. “Love you too, baby,” he says anyway, repositioning his arms so he can hold your waist with both hands. 

“Really?” you ask, voice so whiny, eyes brimming with tears. From emotion or your need to cum, Jungkooks not sure. (Hence the need for a study!) 

Another brutal thrust that has you moaning loudly. “Really,” he reassures you, glancing down to watch his cock sink into your hole as he picks up the pace. Your arms are practically limbless, and his stomach is beginning to feel tight. The end was soon. “Love your pretty little face.”

Another whine, your fingers pulling at your pebbled nipples. “M- My pretty face?” you whimper, blink these long lashes up at him. They make Jungkook go a little mad, bring on a wave of jackhammer thrusts that cut your moans into choppy little cries instead. 

“Prettiest girl I know,” he groans, not once stopping the movement of his hips. You’re quivering like a leaf beneath him, your entire body locking up as Jungkook guides you toward orgasm. “A fucking doll, baby— so beautiful for me,” he praises. 

It’s exactly what you want to hear— secretly, Jungkook hypothesizes that you’re a little bit of an attention whore —crying out when he slows to a grind against you. Each roll of his hips has him rubbing over your swollen bud, leaves you trembling until you’re eventually unraveling beneath him. “Oh- Oh, fuck— Jungkook—“ you sob, writhing beneath him as you cream his cock. 

Your tits look amazing, nipples stiff from your arousal and all the attention you’d been giving them. Your features soften, gasps framed by your pillowy lips. As Jungkook has said before, your pretty face was the most dangerous weapon. 

He manages a few more pistons of his hips, mostly for reputation sake, before he’s eventually pulling out. His right hand, once the sole hero of his solo sessions, makes a valiant return now as he jacks himself off over you. It takes a few harsh pulls of his cock until he’s spurting his jizz over you, painting your tummy and your tits in white ribbons of cum. You flinch, a tiny whimper leaving your throat at the mess he makes. “Fuck,” he groans one last time. 

When it’s over, you have the audacity to shyly pull down the front of your skirt. As if your tits aren’t out and about, but Jungkook pretends he doesn’t see it. Instead, he channels his energy into peppering your face in kisses. “Best girl,” he praises, even though he knows you hate the nickname. “My beautiful feminist queen.” 

A pinch against his cheek. It hurts like hell, but he endures it for now, still very much in love with your performance today. “Get me a towel,” you huffily ask, uncomfortable with the jizz sticking to your tummy, as if he didn’t spit in your mouth a few minutes ago. 

His research paper is waiting for him at his desk, the materials he’d spent weeks collecting waiting to be typed up. But his girlfriend is so soft and sleepy, asking him to stay for another nap. 

There was never a choice.

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[snesdudes]

FIST FIGHTING WITH FIRE

chapter I

Pairing: Mason x Detective (Alice Santos)

Warnings: Book 3 demo SPOILERS!!! Cursing, some angst, mentions of sex, Mason being Mason, I guess. Sorry if there are any mistakes!

Word count: ~2k

Summary: A week after that scene on Haley’s Bakery, Mason deals with the aftermath of his words... Or has he been dealing with it since the very moment he said them?

Read on ao3

chapter II ⭐ chapter III  ⭐ chapter IV ⭐ chapter V

                                         ☾ 一一一一一一一一一 ☽

"Are you gonna put that down?" Nate's voice sounded gentle even when his eyes looked at him in concern. As a response, Mason took another drag of the cigarette before letting it fall to the floor and stumping it with his boot. 

"We gonna go inside or what?" He pretended he wasn't worried.

A week had gone by since his last encounter with the detective. Since he last heard her voice, tasted her lips, looked into her eyes. 

And it was goddamned near killing him.

It hadn't been the last time he had seen her -thank God- since he had checked on her more times than he would admit willingly. The sight of her running down the street, away from his words, away from him, made him ache in a way he wasn't used to. The strange pull on his chest, tightening, constricting, had nothing to do with the kind of aching she used to inflict on him. When that tightening sensation was on the pit on his stomach, a heat surging on his lower belly and expanding. 

When she teased him relentlessly, her usually shy persona changing dramatically the moment they were alone in her bedroom - and her hallway, and her kitchen, and her couch. That aching, he could get used to.

This one, nonetheless… was awful.

He had been inside the SUV the next morning, a cloud of smoke surrounding him when she exited her apartment to leave towards the station. Her bright red hair was pulled up in a ponytail, half her face hidden behind a pair of large sunglasses.

"Come on, sweetheart, let me see your face." He muttered to himself as he watched her advance to her beat up car, long fingers drumming on the steering wheel nervously. But she didn't comply. Instead he saw her get in the driver's seat and take a shuddering breath while she checked her phone, apparently not finding in its screen what she hoped for. 

Did she wipe her cheeks with her sleeve?

He waited two days before he tried to check on her again. This time at night. He stood among the shadows at the edge of the street, his hearing searching for her heartbeat to know if she was home. The sound let him know she was there indeed, though by the force of it probably not asleep… and quickly knew she wasn't alone.

The cigarette burned his fingers for a few seconds before he reacted and threw it. He couldn't just barge in, could he? Even less after what he told her - after making her cry.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

He stood there for two more hours until he saw Tina leaving Alice's apartment. The sigh he exhaled surprised him in new ways. 

It was late at night before her heartbeat let him know she had finally fallen asleep. He had lost the count of the times he had almost crossed the street to bang on her door. 

The mood had dropped lower and lower on the Unit as days passed by. He wasn't sure if it was because he was feeling like shit, because he hadn't told them anything about it even when they had asked repeatedly or because - and that's what he feared - they all missed her. She had kept her distance, only updating Adam on work-related stuff and occasionally texting Felix back, but it wasn't enough. They needed her - they, because Mason had to believe it was all of them and not just himself. Her cheery, strong presence, her incessant chatting and her patience… 

Mason was starting to understand she was irreplaceable. And no one should be. 

That was why they had reluctantly agreed to go to the local bar that night, after Felix pestered them about it for two days. And he didn't know if he wished she was there or the complete opposite. 

The vampire was usually ruthless with his words, but always honest. He told the crude, ugly truth, and if someone didn't like it, they could go to hell for all he cared. It didn't matter if he hurt them or angered them. He didn't give a shit.

But the guilt growing and gnawing at his insides for a week told him otherwise this time. Which could mean two things: or he didn't really mean what he said or he just hated to hurt her. In the worst case scenario, both statements were right.

His brain had replayed the moment over and over. The soft smile she was giving him when their lips parted, hers looking plumper after he moved away, thinking he wasn't nearly done with those lips. Her bright eyes seemed to sparkle with the sunlight that filtered through the windows, and for a few seconds, everything was perfect. They were on their own bubble, sharing breaths and body heat, and the sound of her fluttering heartbeat was the only thing he could hear. Her sweet coconut perfume was the only thing he could smell. He could still feel the tingling in his lips because of her own. And the way she looked at him…

She looked at him in a way that made his breath catch and his pulse kick up. The way his heart nearly seemed to burst threatened to consume him, and he had to look away. He had to look away because he didn't know what he would do if he looked at her for a moment longer. 

Still reeling, confused and scared and anxious, he tried to figure out what was happening. And it all was too much and he heard what the waitress said and had to draw the line that had become blurred between them. So he said those words. And when her smile faltered, his heart seemed to contract and become smaller, and again he looked away. 

He only caught a second of her tear filled eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks, as Alice got up from her chair, almost knocking it over. He almost expected her to snap at him. 

But what she did was so much worse.

Her voice broke and she ran away. He could still hear her heart when he got up to follow her, beating so rapidly it made his own speed up to match it. She took a shuddering breath, so close to a sob he stopped in his tracks. 

He was paralyzed, watching her go. Knowing her pain was his fault.

Felix pulled him away from his thoughts when he stepped forwards and opened the door of the small bar, his demeanor joyful and excited. Nate smiled and followed him, Adam joining as if he was trying not to ruin the night for them. Mason took a deep sigh and followed. 

Alice knew he was there even before Verda's eyes widened and he elbowed Tina, making her drink dangerously shake in her hand. The redhead took a deep breath. The way the back of her neck heated up and her skin exploded into goosebumps was the telltale sign of his grey eyes on her. 

Maybe the worst of it all was that she had no right to be upset. He had been clear even before the first kiss - just sex, no complications. Had she been reading too much into it? In the way he seemed to orbitate towards her whenever they were in the same room? How he seemed to relax and want to actually talk to her? Was all of it her heart guiding her brain and not the other way around?

Alice didn't know how she would react when she saw him again, therefore she had avoided the Unit altogether, but this moment had to come. She was still hurt and trying to figure out her feelings for the infuriating vampire, but still the Unit were her friends. Her family, the closest thing she ever had.

She had to pretend. For herself, for him and for the Unit.

So she turned around with a smile, hopefully convincing enough.

"There she is!" Felix chanted happily before he strode towards Alice through the tables. Her smile seemed to freeze on her face the moment their gazes locked. 

Fuck, she looks stunning. Her hair was wavy and bright as the fucking sun and she wore a lipstick to match. His breath caught on his throat the same way it seemed to happen to her. His fingers twitched, as if wanting to reach out for her without his permission. He almost took a step forward, missing her closeness and the peace she brought with her. Her own peace and storm, all mixed up inside him.

Black looks good on this man. The black henley shirt wrapped around all the right places, and when he ran a hand through his long hair she almost passed out with the urge to feel those biceps around her. He was looking at her and there was no hostility in his gaze. A flash of something passed through his eyes, but she was too far to read it. Regret? Longing? Maybe he just felt awkward after her outburst at Haley's Bakery. She wished she could go back in time, before she felt her heart aching at the sight of him. To the last time she had been tangled with him on her bed, feeling his heartbeat against her skin, his breath on her neck just above her scar.

Could she? Could she keep on having sex with him knowing he would never be truly hers? Not all of him? Why did she ever agree? She had known he would consume her. She had known she was doomed. She had known she was going to fall from him since the morning she woke up with his scent on her sheets. 

Her attention snapped to the brightest smile she had ever seen and she couldn't help but genuinely grin at Felix. Who would have known a vampire would actually be the personification of a ray of fucking sunshine?

"Allie!" He wrapped her in a bear hug while she was half getting up and raised her the rest of the way, until her feet didn't touch the ground, and the detective squealed in delight as she returned the hug, before laughing. 

Had her laugh always been so goddamn beautiful or had Mason just missed it like crazy?

The rest of them sauntered towards the table and Mason didn't miss the glare Tina was throwing his way. Girls talk, man. He ignored her completely, letting himself fall into a chair with Adam taking the seat next to him. 

Nate was the next to hug Alice, although softer, and Mason watched as she closed her eyes, as if she had missed them just as much.  She spoke over Nate's shoulder. "I'm so glad to see you. I was just going to get another round, this one's on me!" 

"Actually, this was enough for me." Verda spoke while getting up, throwing a meaningful gaze to Tina.

"Y-yeah, same. Early morning tomorrow." 

"Oh. Okay." Alice said, suddenly a little shy, finally letting go of Nate, who sat at the other side of Mason. 

"I'll go with you to get the drinks!" Felix offered enthusiastically, asking all of them what they wanted while Verda and Tina said their goodbyes and left. 

Like a magnet, their gazes found each other again. She was trapped in his just as much as he was in hers, but she broke it first, turning her eyes to the ground. She hadn't looked so insecure around them since the day they met. Her shoulders were slumped and she had her own arms around her frame, hugging herself, as if trying to become smaller. He could see the movement of her eyelashes as she blinked rapidly, her heart beating a mile a minute inside her chest, teeth chewing on her red lower lip. She looked shy and fragile, but Mason knew she was the strongest woman he had ever encountered. 

Mason made a decision in that exact moment. 

He would be the one biting that lip before the night ended. And he would not let so many days go by without touching her ever again. 

He didn't even realize the magnitude of his thoughts, too caught up in the moment. He would deal with them later if they resurfaced. 

For Alice, it was absurd how difficult it was not to look at him. To pretend the floor of the bar was far more interesting than those deep pools that seemed to see right through her every single time. But then he spoke.

"Sweetheart."

                                        ☾ 一一一一一一一一一一 ☽

A/N: Ahhhh!! My first time writing Mason!! I’ve been obsessed with TWC since I read it and after the demo I just couldn’t help myself. Next chapter coming soon!! Let me know what you thought and if you’d like to be added to the taglist.

Taglist: @agentnatesewell​

[mccnyoongi]

buttercup ⇢ pt one

⇢ pairing: yoongi x fem!reader

⇢ genre: smut + slight angst

⇢ au: college!au, fwb!au, stoner!yoongi, assholeish!yoongi, fuckboyish!yoongi fwb to lovers trope

⇢ word count: 6k+

⇢ warnings: smut, honestly mostly porn, unprotected sex, recreational use of drugs & alcohol, dirty talk, praise, degradation, ridiculously excessive use of pet names, fingering, dom!Yoongi, unprotected sex, slight dumbification (whoops), hair pulling, creampie??, oral (f receiving), pussy slaping, reader has a thing for Yoongi’s hands because who doesn’t, reader and yoongi are both sarcastic and oblivious, this part is basically pwp.

⇢ synopsis: Min Yoongi wears leather jackets, fucks you like he hates you, spends most of his days on the wrong side of a blunt, and calls you the sweetest names when no one else is around. And you definitely aren’t falling in love with him.

⇢ author’s note: so yes, buttercup is being cut up into two parts thanks to a lot of my life getting uprooted this week!!! ill spare you the details but everything is really chaotic rn so im sorry this isnt exactly what i promised :( thank u for all the insane amont of love ive gotten so far. this is a pretty um... filthy piece of writing skfjsd and it’s definitely not perfect and id love to get better with everything i put out on here but i hope u guys enoy ily xx

If there was a magic lantern hidden somewhere on the campus of this university, you’d find it and your first wish would be to make it so that no one found out about this whole illicit affair you’ve been having with Min Yoongi. The secrecy was fun, sexy like you guys had a whole Mr. and Mrs. Smith thing going on. Or something. Your second wish would be to make his dick vibrate. 

But then he just had to go and go down on you in a bathroom during a party at the Beta Tau Rho house, not even a month into the fall semester, knowing you wouldn’t be able to be quiet or subtle at all. And he was so smug about it too, the fucker.

You can still feel the embarrassment buzzing under the surface of your cheeks from when you walked out that bathroom door and a dozen frat boys and mutual friends of yours and Yoongi’s were out there, waiting for the two of you to emerge and giving you a round of applause when you did. Yoongi had just laughed and rolled his eyes before leading you to the kitchen to get the pair of you some drinks. He’s always been particularly good at brushing that shit off of his shoulder. You aren’t, but you’re pretty good at pretending.

Maybe you should have ended it all that night. Of course, you didn’t. You figured, hey,  you’re young and in school so fuck making good decisions. Of course, the fact that no other guy has ever been able to dick you down nearly as well as Min Yoongi can is probably a huge contributing factor. 

Sure he might be grumpy, and sarcastic, and he tries way too hard to look cool and nonchalant, but he’s also the first guy to ever make you squirt. And you’re pretty sure that the way he waxes poetic about your pussy would make even Shakespeare swoon. So maybe the pros outweigh the cons, but only just.

“I can’t believe you’ve been getting Yoongi dick for almost three full months and haven’t divulged every single detail and vein to me, you cold, uncaring bitch-” Jimin’s voice is far too loud for the student-run coffee shop the two of you regulared every Sunday; a tradition that Jimin always insisted upon. He loves his traditions almost as much as he loves destroying any personal boundaries between the two of you.

“Keep going Park, see if I ever buy your coffee again.”

“Don’t change the subject,” You can’t say you’re surprised that Jimin is reacting like this. Self-proclaimed ‘disaster bisexual,’ Jimin was one of the very first friends you made back when you were a shy, barely functioning freshman. 

He actually introduced you to all his frat brothers, and a large number of the people you now call your friends. Including Yoongi, whose dick seems to be a reoccurring topic between you and… most people you know. Even if they weren’t at that dumb party, Jungkook made sure that every living being that stepped onto campus was aware of the newly found out fuckbuddies.

“We don’t keep anything from each other, Y/N,” He’s whining over his coffee now, full lips perched in that pretty pout that he regularly uses to his advantage. “I even told you about that time I puked on Namjoon’s dick in our second year!”

“Mmm, and I wish you hadn’t told me, Minnie-” The visual still haunts you, but Jimin has never had any predilections when it came to oversharing, especially not with people who have the misfortune of being his best friends. “‘Sides, I didn’t figure it was important, the whole Yoongi thing-”

“His dick, you mean.”

“Because it’s not like we’re getting married,” You carefully ignore him, a useful habit you’ve picked up three years into being his friend. “Just sex, remember?”

“So fucking what? You told me how you sucked Jeon’s cock in a movie theatre less than twelve hours after it happened-” You take a large gulp of your own iced coffee to busy yourself when the shameful memory is brought up. Not shameful because of the promiscuity of the act, no you’re an adult, thank you very much, but rather because of the boy you performed them on. Jeon Jungkook is now more of an annoying younger brother to you than anything. Not to mention he’s got a giant mouth that couldn’t keep a secret even if it killed him.

“Jesus you could’ve picked any other example-” You groan out as Jimin smirked, receiving the exact reaction from you he wanted. You think you’d have learned by now. “I’m sorry, okay? You big baby.”

“Hey, you’re on thin ice,” He points an accusatory finger at you and you have to fight the urge to smack it out of your face. “Now you have to make it up to me.”

You sigh- Jimin can really be exhausting when you’re only half a medium coffee in. “And how do you expect me to do that, Park.”

“Dick details, fucking obviously,” He says it like you’re a moron for even asking. And maybe you are. “Well details in general, I guess. You know, the basics; length, girth, does he make you call him daddy, is he good- I mean he must be un-fucking-real if you’ve been bouncing on it for three goddamn months, you whore.”

“I’m not giving you measurements, Jimin, I’ve yet to take a tape measure to it- and stop assuming everyone has a daddy kink just ‘cause you do.”

“Okay, vanilla bitch. You’re lucky I already know he’s got a monster cock from that time he streaked at that post-mid-term party next year.”

“Then why’d you even ask?”

“To see if you’d tell me the truth. It was a test and you failed.”

“I may be a college student but you’re gonna have to threaten me with a little more than a failing grade to spook me,” You roll your eyes playfully- there’s no real threat in his words, there never is.

“You’re right, I’m sure you’d much rather be punished by Yoongi, huh?”

                    ..............................................................................

Watching Yoongi roll a joint, his long, slender and experienced fingers moving quickly and deftly, has always had this near hypnotizing-like effect on you. His apartment smells like weed, the scent never surprising and would almost be overwhelming if you weren’t so used to it by now. The sight alone is almost enough to make you wet. But you’re stronger than that- except for when you’re not. 

Sexy hands aside, but unfortunately not on you, you’re thankful for his cannabis-related expertise because a) you can’t roll one yourself to save your life and b) despite normally reserving your consumption habits for parties, you feel like you deserve a fat one after the week you’ve had. What with, you know, the stress of having every student on campus knowing about yours and Yoongi’s torrid affair, thanks to fucking Jeon Jungkook. Brat. Plus incessant goading from both Jimin and your roommate, Irene- equally angry as Jimin about your worst kept secret- has only made you sink further into your insecure and paranoid thoughts.

The weed would help, you’d told yourself when your phone pinged with that much anticipated what’re u up 2? late night text from the raven-haired devil himself. Yep, it was the weed, the comforting blanket of getting high. And had nothing to do with the boy that was offering them. Not even his fat cock or magnetic pull he seemed to have on you. 

“Alright, dove,” He says from his spot on his worn-out single-dorm couch- the names don’t tend to surprise you the way they used to. You kinda figured that the affection-starved Yoongi had just you know… gotten comfortable with the girl he had been fucking for the last couple of months. No big deal. Sure they made your heart swell and your panties dampen, but then it could be looked at as a positive. 

He looks up at you from his spot on the couch, where he’s uncomfortably hunched over the table as he works and notices how you’re looking rather spaced out- not entirely rare for you. He’s used to the hundred-mile stare you tend to adopt when deep in thought, though it’s considerably less common for a sober you.

“Dove?” Nothing. “Y/N?” It’s the use of your actual name from his lips that finally grabs your attention.  You finally turn your head to look at him, the glaze of deep thought finally leaving your eyes. An eyebrow quirks to let him know you’ve heard him, but his gaze remains piercing and unwavering on yours. “You need to stop worrying so much, dove.”

“That’s what the weed is for, Yoongs.”

“The weed? You’re just here so I can smoke you out then, huh? No ulterior motives, hm?” His tone is as dry and sarcastic as ever, qualities he had quickly become known for around campus. He shurgs “Fine. Just here to sesh. C’mere then.”

You scoot closer to his side of the couch, not even thinking twice before listening to him. His tongue is tantalizing as he licks the rolling paper, even if he doesn’t mean it to be. He’s almost always tantalizing to you.

“Don’t be grumpy. You invited me over,” Your words are softer than you meant, but your proximity to him makes you feel stilted. He was right, you really needed a smoke, more on edge than ever.

“Well, technically,” He starts, unlit, perfectly rolled joint now perched between his lips. He grabs at your legs before continued so that you were resting sideways on the black couch, legs strewn over legs, thighs touching thighs. “I invited the best pussy on campus over.” You crinkle your nose at his bluntness.

“Yoongi-” You scold indignantly and pinch at a well-toned bicep. “Don’t be an asshole, you asshole.” He grins despite the insult like he’d expected it. Or he’s revelling in it.

“You know I’m just fucking around, angel,” His arm tucks around your waist comfortably, pulling you even closer. “Tryna chill you out. I can tell when you’re all strung out. I know how you,” He pokes you in the middle of the forehead, still grinning, as you pout from being called strung out. “Tick.” 

He really does, doesn't he? The thought is mildly terrifying, and you think that Yoongi might be too smart or his own good sometimes. When he’s not smoking himself into another dimension, that is.

He leans back into his seat, uncurling from around you to finally light up. A few sparks later and the room is fogging up with overly pungent smoke- the cheap smell makes you think that he probably bought it off of Hobi, too lazy to go any further off-campus than his own block of apartments to one of the nice but relatively affordable dispensaries. You crinkle your nose at the scent, grateful he’s too distracted to notice since he’d probably just tease you for liking the fancy shit more. At least you trust Hobi, and he lives only two buildings down from Yoongi. Truly an age of convenience.

A few passes, tokes, whatevers later, and you’re feeling substantially... floaty. You’ve completely relaxed, choosing to lie down rather than put the effort into sitting up, though your legs are still thrown across your equally high counterpart’s. What’s left of the roach is left to burn in one of many strategically placed ashtrays around the apartment, this one being on the living room table.

Yoongi has barely moved in the past while, head resting lazily on the back of the couch, black hair messy and his neck- which is somehow handsome to you- stretched out, and hands resting against your bare knees. You’ve barely paid him any mind, the silence nothing but comforting and easy. 

Which is why you can’t help but jolt just a little in surprise when those hands, the hypnotizing ones you’re so obsessed with suddenly start creeping up your legs, halfway up your thighs, carefully kneading the supple flesh he finds there. He chuckles at your reaction, finally picking his up his head to watch you through heavy-lidded eyes. “Bet you’re extra sensitive right now, huh petal?” He doesn’t have to bet because he knows it’s true, knows how needy you get when you’ve smoked. And he loves it- it’s why he never makes you pay for any of the times he smokes you out.

“Fuck off,” You whine at his light-hearted teasing, but Yoongi just giggles- he fucking giggles- in response, hands still travelling the expanse of your thighs. 

“Be nice,” His words are still jovial, but there’s a gruffness behind them that sends a shiver down your spine, despite the relative stuffiness of his living room.

“I am nice, you’re just a dick,” You pout- childish, but you can’t quite come up with anything more clever at the moment. The jab may be weaker than your usual quips, but Yoongi seems to have decided it’s enough to warrant a punishment of sorts, as he sends a quick slap onto your thigh. It’s certainly not the harshest hit you’ve received from him, it’s more playful than anything, but it’s enough to make you whine, not even noticing when your own hands jump down to grab at him and your now sore flesh.

His eyes take on a new sort of darkness, beyond the dilated pupils from the high he’s in the middle of as he grabs at your wrists, any assault you had planned halting in its tracks. His large hands that you’ve drooled over- figuratively and literally- many a time are big enough that he only needs one of them to hold both of yours steady. He uses his grip on you to yank you back up to a sitting position, where your noses almost touch and you can feel his breath fan across your lips.

“I told you, I know how you tick,” He lets his tongue swipe out to wet his lips, the act distracts you and makes you mimic it with your own tongue and lips. The smirk he gives you is all at once wicked and panty dampening. “Which means I know you like it when I’m mean. I know you like when I treat you like this, like my little slut,” The word makes you draw in a breath as your face reddens in humiliation and tension. “And- and I know you’re probably soaking through your panties right now, all over my couch. Making a fucking mess.”

It infuriates you to no end how right he is as your breaths come out shaky and uneven as you feel your pussy flutter around nothing beneath your shorts and panties. 

“Aren’t you?” His tone doesn’t leave room for playfulness anymore, and you’re nodding dumbly before you can give it a second thought. “Good girl.”

He doesn’t give you any time to bask in the praise before he’s leaning in to capture your lips in a searing and sloppy kiss. He’s domineering even in the way he kisses you, teeth biting and tongue sweeping into your own mouth as he revels in the small sounds that escape you. His hands leave your wrists, freeing them so you can grip onto raven locks with a newly freed hand as his own wrap around your waist. 

Every sense is filled with him, and it is all at once comforting and exhilarating.

He tugs and roughly manhandles you so that you’re properly astride his denim-covered thighs, your lips never untangling in the process. When your lips finally do come apart, it’s with a lewd sound and a gasp from your mouth. He’s still smirking.

“Gonna fuck you so good petal,” Yoongi has always been so blunt and unforgiving, whether in bed or out and it had been one of the things that first attracted you to him, besides his obvious good looks. 

Before the two of you had even gotten together, when you were friends who didn’t fuck on the regular, you had even mustered up the courage to touch yourself to the thought of him speaking to you like this- your own fingers circling your clit and delving into yourself without abandon. You had only been able to imagine up a fraction of his sexual prowess. 

Like the time only a few weeks ago you admitted to him in a foggy haze, high than you think you’d ever been. how you’d brought yourself to climax with images and soundbites of him flitting through your head. He’d immediately made you put on a show for him- recreating those nights, but this time with him sitting feet away from you and ignoring your pleas for him to touch you.

Right now, however, the only things keeping you grounded in reality is the feeling of the muscles in his thighs flexing beneath you, though nowhere near where you truly ache to be touched, and one of his hands brutishly tangled in your hair, pulling harshly so he can have easy access to your neck. Plush lips start soft, kissing and licking at the skin there, before his teeth join in, biting and sucking like he loves the taste of you (because he does).

“Y-yoongi-” You’re trying to keep the whimpers at bay, like maybe if you stop yourself from seeming so turned on so fast it’ll get him to fuck you faster. “C’mon, just fuck me already.”

“So demanding for such a needy bitch,” He has you squirming on his lap and you don’t know why you thought you had any power over him left. “Have you forgotten your place? Can’t think of anything else but getting fucked, huh?”

You nod in agreement, but find out he must want a verbal response when you’re met with a sharp spank to your ass that has you squealing and bucking into his lap. “Yeah, yeah Yoongi ‘m sorry, just need it.”

“I know, baby, I know, you can’t even help it when you get all messy like this, I know,” You can’t decide whether his words are sweet or patronizing when he coos at you like that, but either way he’s got you another pair of panties.

“Need you to fix it, Yoongs,” All pride is out the window when he’s got you like this, and you love pleading with him to give you what you want almost as much as likes making you beg.

“I will,” He gives you one more harsh bite to the junction of your neck and your shoulder that you know will blossom into a bruise just in time for your 10 AM class tomorrow and you hiss at the mingling of pain and pleasure. “Now fucking get up,” He pats lightly at your thigh twice at the order.

You’re in no position to disobey, and you know from experience that not listening to him will end up with a sore ass and no release in sight. You stand up on shaky, doe-like legs and he grins at the sight of you. He stands up with you, his lean form and strong stance making him look taller than he really is. Then his long fingers are pulling at what little clothing you have, stripping you of both your tank top and your shorts and your bra isn’t far behind. Soon you’re clad only in your panties while he’s still fully clothed in black form-fitting jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Thankfully he leaves his cliche, but devastatingly sexy leather jacket at the door.

He doesn’t make any move to undress at all and you hope to god he will eventually- you love seeing his honey-coloured skin covered in a thin layer of sweat as he fucks you into oblivion. But for now, he stays fully clothed and he roughly pulls you by your upper arm until he can bend you over the arm of the couch, panty-covered ass high and perfectly on display for him.

“God, you’re fucking dripping,” He taunts, fingers running over your pussy through the thin cotton, making you whine into the rough cushion your face is resting on. “All this from almost nothing, huh? You’re such a fucking slut for me, shit.” He sounds genuinely amazed by you and when you uncomfortably crane your neck back to get a good look at him you let out a proper moan. He must have stripped his shirt off when you weren’t facing him, because his chest is bare for you to gaze at, or you would gaze at it if you weren’t distracted by the hand that isn’t on you, which is lazily working over his cock, rock hard and aching through his jeans.

He smirks when he notices what’s grabbed your attention, knowing you’re only moments away from quite literally drooling on his pillows. “Is this what you want? Hm?”

“Ye-yeah your cock, Yoongi, need your cock,” Your face burns red and blood burns hot as the crude words leave your mouth.

“And you’ll fucking get it, dove,” The cute name contrasts the second harsh spank he lands on your ass and you moan at the delicious sting. 

You think that he must be about to tear your panties off and sink into you, but that would be too predictable and Yoongi loves to keep you on your toes. Instead, he disappears from your line of sight, a dull thump coming from the hardwood as he drops to his knees, feline gaze now level with your cunt. 

“Yoongi-” You’re whining again, and you even have to hold yourself back from stomping your foot childishly because, god, you just need him to do something.

And then he finally does- he licks a thick stripe, right from your clit to your entrance, still over your panties, and you gasp in surprise. He does it again, twice, three, four times until your hips are bucking and you’re whining because you need more, you need him to actually touch you and not be a giant fucking tease for once in his life.

“Be fucking patient,” He hisses out, but at least he’s finally rolling your underwear down your legs to toss them somewhere across the room. “Or I swear to god, I’ll hold you down just like this so you can’t even squirm while I get myself off all over your messy cunt,” His hand is running up and down your bare pussy as he speaks, spreading the wetness around, to your clit and your thighs and your ass and then back again. “And then I’ll send you home without touching you or cleaning you up, so you’ll have to take the subway home covered in my come and fucking trembling. So be fucking good.” At the last word, he lands a mean slap against your gushing cunt and you let out an embarrassing squeak.

“Shit-fuck- Yoongi, please, just-” You stutter through your words, needing to get them out, though you don’t know why. “I’ll be good, okay? ‘M your good girl, I am, promise, I’ll be good.”

He doesn’t respond, at least not verbally. But you have to assume he’s happy with your desperate response when he finally delves into your pussy like a man starved, tongue licking into you, the muscle sending spasms up and down your legs. You have to muffle your moans by biting into a pillow, not needing another altercation with his neighbours, but you want nothing more than to yell his name as loud as you can until your voice goes hoarse when he shakes his head from side to side, tongue still buried inside of you and one of his hands now roughly circling your clit. 

It’s too much, but it’s not nearly enough. It’s when he switches positions between his hand and mouth that you think you might explode; his mouth latches onto your clit, tongue circling and playing with it and two fingers fucking into you, preparing you for the impressive girth of his own cock.

Your teeth let go of the strong grip it has so you can warn him of your impending orgasm. “Yoongi- gonna come-” You manage to choke out between barely quieted moans.

You know that he wouldn’t be able to respond if he was still suckling on your clit, but you still whine and wiggle your hips as he pulls away, earning you yet another spank to your rear, where you can only assume a nice handprint is forming. “Yeah? Want you to come all over my face, like a good messy whore- gotta come for me before I can fuck you like you need.” 

When his mouth finds your swollen clit again, you can’t help it as your orgasm barrels through you almost violently, every muscle tensing and fingers grasping at whatever they can find, neighbour’s delicate sensibilities forgotten as you moan out Yoongi’s name. He licks you through it, fingers no longer pistoning into you. When the last of the tremors have faded he finally pulls away, using his clean hand to wipe your mess off of his chin, though it hardly cleans him. 

“Good fucking girl,” The roughness with which he was grinding his still covered bulge into your now sopping wet center would be impossible to ignore even if your head weren’t a million miles away. But for now, everything is Yoongi, every single scent is filled with him and you think that that might be making your head even fuzzier than the drugs coursing through your system, but you’re too far gone to be sure. Or to even care.

Because all you can think about is his mouth-watering hands kneading at the slightly pinkened skin of your ass, his mouth-watering cock rutting against you and his mouth-watering, well, mouth pressing wet kisses and occasional bites up and down your spine. “Yoongi,” You meant to speak with at least a little more conviction, but his name comes out as little more than a mumble.

“Hm,” He hums against your skin and even those slight vibrations reverberate straight to your heart, which starts beating faster at the thought of what’s to come. “What, is my babygirl still needy?” 

The use of the word my in front of the affectionate name makes your heart jump, but you don’t even have time to scold yourself for thinking with your post-orgasmic pussy before he continues talking with that sinful mouth of him. “Such a greedy, desperate girl, won’t be happy ‘til you’re stuffed full of my fat cock,” His words have you whining and grinding back against him, where you don’t have to look to know you’re leaving a stain on his favourite jeans.  If you’re unlucky- or lucky depending on your mood- he’ll make you clean it up with your tongue as further delicious torture. 

But smoking makes Yoongi needy too, no matter how much he teases you for the effect it has on you, and he can’t wait much longer, not with his cock so hard he was a razor blades’ edge from losing his mind. He needs to be inside you as much as you need him.

Which is why you don’t doubt him for a second when he’s murmuring things about how he’s ‘gonna fuck you so good, gonna fuck you stupid,’ and you can only respond with even quieter whispers of ‘I knows’ and ‘pleases’ as he strips himself oh the rest of his clothes, hissing from oversensitivity as his cock makes contact with the air. It’s wonderfully overwhelming and he’s not even fucking you yet.

You can’t even explain how grateful you are when Yoongi turns you around because you love just seeing his cock. You’ve never been one to describe guys’ dicks as pretty before- except that TA you managed to fuck before Jimin sunk his claws into him, Kim Seokjin, because, well, you’re not blind. But Yoongi’s dick is gorgeous. It’s not the biggest thing you’ve ever seen, and it doesn’t have to be, not when it’s girthy enough to make you salivate with a curve that points to the heavens. Gorgeous.

He’s pulling you on top of him so he can sit back down and you’re back to straddling him, and you don’t complain because you know he’s tired both from the pot and crouching on his haunches for access to your center not two minutes ago. Plus he loves when you ride him, breasts bouncing in his face, wetness making a mess out of his lap and full access of your entire body for both his hands and lips.

“Need you to bounce on my fat cock before I fucking explode, baby,” And you’d have to be some sort of a madwoman to deny him.

“Need it too, Yoongs,” You don’t know why you feel the need to remind how desperate you are for him, surely he can feel it, your swollen pussy resting only centimetres above his throbbing length. “Can’t think of anything else.”

“I know,” He’s rubbing the angry red tip against your sopping folds, tinges of overstimulation making you jolt. Or you would jolt if his hands weren’t heavy on your waist, keeping you steady so you couldn’t a) get away from his cock or b) properly sink down onto it. “So pathetic and perfect for me like this, all cock drunk and fucked out and I haven’t even fucked you yet, huh?”

You nod frantically, and you can’t even find the energy to be embarrassed when a hand comes up to pet your hair with a condescending ‘awe’ as he pouts at you. You bat his hand away with a whine and furrowed eyebrows, but all that gets you is his hand tangled in your hair, yanking sharply in retaliation. “Careful, slut, or you won’t be coming for the next week-”

“Please, Yoongi-” You don’t let him finish, knowing from experience to always take his threats seriously. “I’m sorry, I’m fucking sorry, okay just please-”

You cut yourself off with a high pitched, tea kettle-like squeak as he uses his hands on you as leverage to have you sink down onto his cock in one fell swoop. “Shit, god, you’re always so fucking tight around me, fuck me.”

I am, is what you wish you were coherent enough to snark back with, but you’re sure no one would blame you if they could feel what you feel right now. And what you’re feeling right now is how well Yoongi feels inside of you, like no cock you’ve ever had. Every ridge and vein on his cock fills you up to the fucking brim, no room left for a pinky or a thought that has to do with anything other than Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi.

And then he starts with those devilish moments of his hip, fucking into you shallowly and slowly to start and it’s all Yoongi’s dick. 

“Fucking bounce on it, dove. Fuck yourself on my cock, show me how much you need it,” He speaks through gritted teeth, each word a struggle as he tries not to fuck into you without thought. And it’s with the satisfaction you get knowing he’s just as desperate for you as you are for him that you find the strength to do as he says.

With quivering thighs, you push up and off of his cock, the two of you sharing a harmonious groan at the feeling, foreheads pressed against each other, skin sweaty. And this all just in the calm before the storm. 

It’s not long before the both of you are moving frantically, mere seconds, really. It’s intense and all-encompassing, as you grind and roll your hips, cock deeper than you knew to be possible, and his bucking his own hips into you roughly, no doubt as deeply in some sort of euphoria as you are. His hands are everywhere and so are his lips. He sucks marks into your tits and gropes your ass, controlling your movements to the best of his abilities.

All of that, plus your clit grinding against his pelvic bone every other second and your head just might be in another universe. 

Yoongi’s words are swirling around in your head, though you’re not properly taking any of it in- his velvety voice goes on about how wet you are, how tight you are, how you’re a good girl and it’s all another instrument in your downfall. You’ve never been much for heights but being with Yoongi feels like something akin to what you assume bungee jumping is like, and you’re just about at that point where your cord runs out of length and your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach.

“Tell me you’re fucking close, baby, c’mon,” This is as close to pleading as you can ever get Yoongi but you’re still swimming in pride. He brings a hand off of your ass to cup your cheek, brushing away your now mussed hair and a single stray tear and you drink in the look in his eyes, dark red-rimmed and needing. “Gonna fill you up with my come, just like I know you like, my perfect little cumslut, fuck, just need you to come first, yeah? All over my fucking cock.”

And with a particularly hard grasp at your ass, bringing you to grind your clit against him again, you’re gone. It’s considerably less intense than the previous one, as many second orgasms are, but your head is still spinning and you think you might have drooled a little, but you don’t mind and you know Yoongi doesn’t. Your attempts to stifle your moans are unsuccessful as the name of the man attached to your favourite cock falls from your lips like a mantra.

And where your orgasm is, Yoongi is rarely far behind- he loves seeing you fall apart around him, because of him and you always clench so fucking hard around him in the peak of your pleasure how could he fucking not. He’s grunting, moaning, damn near growling as he spurts his own release as deep into you as he possibly can, coating every inch of your delectable pussy, vague mumbles of how he’s filling you up, just like you’re meant to be that you can just barely hear.

Shakey breaths hit each of your faces as you come down, now still and worn out. Your chests move up and down and you don’t know when you’ve buried your face into the crook of his neck, but the warmth and smell are more comforting than any hit you’ve ever taken off of one of his blunts.

“Shit, buttercup,” He chuckles, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and where you’ve tucked yourself He runs a hand through his sweaty black locks, the other hand locked around your waist. “I don’t know how we’re gonna move without making this couch fucking disgusting.” Mood killer.

“Don’t give a shit.”

“Yeah, but I do. Especially if Joon or Hobi someone finds it and makes a big fucking deal out of it, like no other guy in his twenties has some come stained furniture.”

You pull back from the spot you wish he’d just let you fall asleep in so he can see your pout. He can’t find the sight of you… adorable? Your hair matted, bruises, courtesy of yours truly littering your tits and chest, a thin sheen of sweat making your skin glow and bottom lip jutted out exactly enough to be overexaggerated and so fucking adorable. 

At that moment he’s glad that about three weeks ago the two of you had started to break the unspoken no sleeping over after sex rule because he just wants to clean you up and feel you curl yourself around him like you like to.

You don’t know what time it is, just that it’s late and that it doesn't matter, because this was certainly time well spent. You wonder how much sleep you’ve given up in lieu of Yoongi’s pretty dick. Of course, it does matter... because you have a 9 am class tomorrow morning that you can’t miss, but that’s for future you to worry about. For now, it’s time to try to get up without defiling this Ikea couch (you failed miserably and giggled about it while Yoongi groaned in mock pain), burn out just one more joint, steal some clothes for bed and some snacks from his fridge, and pass the fuck out on his bed, which you think is way better than yours, but that has nothing to do with the boy in it or his comforting warmth and smell.

                     ..............................................................................

Past you is a dumb bitch. Also maybe current you. Point being, you hate you, because you’re sore and stiff and ten minutes late to your dumb 9 am class and it’s all Yoongi’s fucking fault. You texted him this much, calling him a ‘little bitch boy’ for not even waking you up to make you a cup of coffee with his fancy instant coffee machine before you left. He hasn’t responded yet because holy fuck does that guy sleep like a rock. A really cute, cuddly, sex-god rock.

But, as usual, Jimin came in clutch, handing you off a coffee as your paths crossed on campus, each of you heading to your respective classes. He gave you a one-armed-too-tight hug and a comment on how you have that very glamourous ‘I got fucked by Min Fucking Yoongi last night and you didn’t so I’m better than you look.’ You tried to take it as a compliment as you thanked him for the coffee. He gave you a cute kiss to your forehead that reminded you you could never even be annoyed at him for too long.

And now you’re in class. Headache from not getting enough sleep getting worse by the second while you tried not to think about what judgements people must be passing on you, with your sunglasses inside and hickeys you didn’t have time to cover up.

When your phone pings you assume it’s Jimin, with something slutty or sarcastic or both. But it’s not. It’s Yoongi- well, it’s what you have Yoongi’s number saved under, aka the drooling emoji three times over… You’re surprised he’s awake, you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have shit to do until the afternoon. 

You have a fleeting thought that it could be a dick pic- yeah it’s a little early for that kind of dumb fuckboy behaviour, and you’d previously thought that too, but Kim Taehyung proved you wrong last year. 

Yoongi isn’t a dick pic kind of guy anyway. No, he’s the guy that sends pictures of his hand around your throat that one night you let him take artsy photos of you two fucking on his film camera. The kind of guy that sends you audios of him jerking off and moaning your name that you listen to through your earphones in between classes because he knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself. He’s the guy that drives you crazy because you can never quite predict what he’s gonna do next.

[9:23 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: you could have woken me you know dummy

[9:24 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: subways are gross in the morning

[9:25 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: i could have u know, driven u…

[9:26 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: cant really say no to u buttercup.

You don’t know why you’re heart’s beating so fast so you reprimand yourself for thinking with your pussy. Min motherfucking Yoongi is gonna be the death of you.

[purple-butterfly-and-sunflowers]

I think the worst part of this all has been watching my family go through this.

They were reunited with their lost little girl after after a decade, 12 long years. When they met me I was damaged, sure, I was very nervous at first. It was obvious I had some chronic health conditions going on, something deeper than my Fibromyalgia than my Fibromyalgia my was making me hurt and sick. But despite that, I was up, walking around and being the cheerful little girl they remembered from so long ago. They fell in love with the same little girl they'd lost with some damage, some quirks and paranoia from traumatic events but they fell in love with the fact I was here, I was happy to be here, and in spite of everything I had been through I had never stopped being the little light in the darkness they had been searching for for what felt like forever.

But everything changed after I came back from a trip to see my grandparents for the first time after the reunion. The flights there were fine, but when I was landing back home from my layover, as soon as the planes tires hit ground I felt a horrible, sharp pain in my right side of my pelvis. We already knew I was having issues with ovarian cysts and some free fluid so it was concerning.

After that it took about a week for my energy to die. Just completely. I was hyper and a little all over the place but I started to struggle to do my daily routine when I had been actually too little of a to do list before. I started to have more moments I'd pause and groan, whince and whine in pain. It wasn't horrible at first but it kept getting worse and worse.

"That OB/GYN appointment is soon, hopefully we'll get some answers." Is what we held onto for months. When they did an ultrasound because I was in extreme pain, extremely swollen, had audible free fluid in my abdomen, and known ovarian cysts. They found I had a lot of fluid, an big cyst on my right ovary, and something weird going on with my left ovary and the tube. The fallopian tube was not were it was supposed to be in relation to the ovary and it was full of fluid.

They tried antibiotics to no resolve. It did nothing. My pain worsened. I could not anything anymore. Just feeding the dogs caused so much pain I'd be exhausted by 11:00 AM. My family would watch me in pain and try their best to comfort me, hug me, stroke my face, touch my hair, pet my head and just say "I'm so sorry baby, hopefully they can fix this... They've gotta do something..."

Then after I had another ultrasound as a follow up after a trip to the ER they found my condition had significantly worsened in the one week and a half since they last saw me. The ultrasound tech asked my doctor to see me despite not having an appointment that day and we had to schedule laparoscopic surgery.

There they found I had Endometriosis, stage IV. Pretty rare for a 19 year old with no genetic factors to have stage IV Endometriosis. They cut out all the Endo and cysts, luckily it was all beign.

But it's changed everything. It feels like a death sentence. I'm realizing this isn't going to end. I'm stuck like this. My future entails more pain, more suffering, more doctors, more ultrasounds, more needles, more surgery and more time spent doing things I wouldn't have to had people kept their fucking hands to their goddamn selves.

Now my familys comfort has changed. Instead of "Hopefully they can find what's wrong and fix it... I'm sure we can fix this... I'm sure they'll find it and fix it...." Now they see me crumble and implode from sheer pain, panting, whining, holding my breath and clenching my teeth around the scream that threatens to erupt out of mouth. And I see their faces... I felt their spirits dampen. I see them frown and I see the sadness and grief ignited by a surprised rage spark and bleed from their eyes. They try to comfort me but are often unwelcomed by gasps and shudders of aching sensitivity. And we have a moment where we both see in the others face that we both want me to receive love, affection and comfort and are just distraught I can't handle it. They see shrivel up inside my own misery and all they can say "I'm so sorry babygirl.... I wish we could do more to help..."

I can't be myself anymore. I don't have the energy. My family watches and they see me repeatedly everyday try to pull myself to my feet, doo all I can possibly do that day just to once again collapse and break down because of the pain. They see how hard I'm trying to not let it consume me. And they see how it's consuming my life.

But they do not judge they do not push me. They love me. They support me. They help me. They want to make it go away. And it makes us all so fucking sad that they can't. It makes us all enraged that this is even happening. When if we had just been left alone all those years ago I would never have to know this pain.

[goose-books]

darklingverse & magic

as promised! a look at the magical system in my speculative fiction loose-retelling-of-king-lear WIP, which you can find out more about here and here! this is a terribly, terribly long post, so i’m sticking most of it under a cut, but i can guarantee there are at least a few fun diagrams in there. (all character images used are from this picrew by cinnasmores!)

shoutout to waya @harehearts​ for helping me work out some of the kinks in this by asking incredibly helpful questions... waya i will untag you if you want i just wanted to appreciate your contribution. also going to tag @suits-of-woe​ because you mentioned wanting to see this!

Jasper’s dad talks about it like oil. Petroleum has to be refined before you can put it in your car. Unrefined, it’ll just as soon kill you as anything else. The natural clock ticks. A mage hits twelve, or thirteen, or fourteen. And then it’s roaring under their skin, like an electric volt, like a fever, burning in them, fighting tooth and nail to get out.

It always gets out. You pick the route. Or you don’t.

The first thing Vee ever learned was duplication. Small objects only. Jasper was crawling through stacks of post-it notes for weeks. It was like an illness: Vee would get too itchy, his magic nipping at his neck, and he’d clench his fists and then they’d have another goddamn stack of stickies. “He has to get it out somehow,” Dad had admonished Jasper, when he’d complained. “Otherwise it’ll hurt him. I do it, too. The difference is I’m useful.” And he had demonstrated by snapping his fingers and cleaning all the house’s dishes at once.

Jasper is loath to give his father props for anything. But he was, on that particular occasion, right. Within a year Vee could flick his hands and shut windows, heat leftovers, unlock doors, send laundry skittering across the floor into the hamper.

It makes sense; Vee’s an infuriatingly quick study, magically and academically. And he inherited their dad’s style of magic. Easygoing. Quiet. Unobtrusive. Less explosive, more creative. Nowadays the worst that happens when he gets hot under the collar is that he spawns another houseplant and Jasper has to brush the leaves off the kitchen table.

Because Vee followed Dad’s instructions. He annotated all of his textbooks. He mastered it early, by seventeen, because of-fucking-course he did, but he was already in control by fifteen. Everyone learns to control their magic eventually.

Most people do eventually.

— darkling, segment iv: control

okay so let’s get into this!!!

isn’t darkling a modern king lear retelling? what do you mean, “the magic system?”

great question! darkling is, in fact, a modern king lear retelling (well, very loosely; it’s my city now and i reserve the right to do what i want). it takes place entirely in and around a city called dovermorry, an extremely isolated place secluded in the mountains, surrounded by wilderness for hundreds of miles, and only reachable via a single train through the mountains. dovermorry is loosely in the american northwest, sort of, i guess. by which i mean that’s kind of where i’m picturing it, but also it’s incredibly vague and honestly i don’t really know. dovermorry is, like, you know… [gesturing] it’s around. [kicking any kind of definable map under the rug]

the plot is set in the modern day with modern technology. the magic that exists is woven into daily life alongside said modern technology, which is the primary reason i’m calling darkling speculative fiction. most people in darklingverse aren’t actually heavily affected by magic (for reasons i’ll get into but which basically boil down to “they don’t have much”); however, dovermorry as a city is mostly known for being The Place Where Mages Go. most of the families in the city have been there for a long time; they’re old money families with powerful magic who use their inheritances to study increasingly esoteric forms of magic that aren’t very helpful in praxis. this is because dovermorry is home to the large and powerful Mage’s Guild, which is in charge of setting the laws around what kind of magic can be practiced in the city and by who. if you want to study magic at a scholarly level, you’d better pay your dues to the guild, otherwise you’re gonna get the boot.

every large city has a guild, but dovermorry’s in specific is Really Big and, unusually, has more political power than the actual mayor / government of the city. partially because leovald stayer, the guild’s president, is just… ughghhebwfbefbdsbfbdsfsd. That Way. in dovermorry if you’re not getting the boot you’re licking it

“wait, slow down. what is a mage anyway?”

well, technically, anyone! everyone in darklingverse has at least a little bit of natural magic (though it might be very little) that develops during puberty/adolescence! so by its literal definition, A Person Who Does Magic, everyone is a mage. that said, in colloquial terms, the word mage has taken on a connotation that basically means… exactly the kind of people who live in dovermorry. like i just said: scholarly, probably rich, probably a little elitist. so your average working-class person is TECHNICALLY a mage, but if you asked they’d say something like, “oh, mages are those hoity-toity folks who join guilds and stuff, WE’RE just regular folks over here.”

“you keep saying magic. what are you talking about. magic is a word that means so many things”

don’t worry, in darkling it just means [gestures vaguely]. re: everyone has magic, it develops in puberty, and there aren’t really specifications - it isn’t like some folks get fire magic and others get shapeshifting magic or etc. it’s more like everyone has a certain amount of raw energy inside them that can be drawn out and funneled into different tasks/spells. some ground rules:

1. you can’t change the amount of magic you have. your magic develops naturally, and maybe you get a lot of raw energy, or maybe you only get a little, but that’s what you’re stuck with and no amount of practicing is gonna give you more.

2. that said, magic is hard to control when it first develops - and practicing WILL help you get better at controlling it. so while you’ll always have the same base amount, you’ll get faster and more efficient about concentrating it into tasks.

3. re: amount of raw energy: that shit isn’t limitless. whether you have a lot or a little, it will eventually run out and you’ll have to wait for your juice to recharge. like a battery. you are a battery. how long this recharge period takes depends on how much magic you have, how fast you used it all up (if you push your limits to do something Really Big, you’re gonna be wiped), and also just how you’re doing physically in general? if you use up all of your magic in one go and you haven’t slept in a while, you might want to, like, sit down. drink a juice box. take a nap

4. while magic isn’t limitless, you can’t just NOT use it, either. when you aren’t using your magic, that raw magical energy builds up in you. and builds up. and builds up. and it does not particularly want to be in you. it wants to be out in the world, actually, and by god your fragile human meatsack is not going to stop it. so if you don’t choose a task to funnel your magical energy into (eg, i use my built-up energy to send my socks scuttling across the floor of their own accord to get into the laundry basket), that energy will eventually decide to just come out on its own. more on this later.

5. like i said, the mage’s guild of any particular city sets the rules, but there’s generally one core rule and that’s “don’t do necromancy.” like, obviously you’re not allowed to kill someone magically, but you’re also not allowed to kill someone NONMAGICALLY, so that’s kind of a given? but necromancy is something only a few very powerful mages can do and it is a BIG no-no. don’t fuck around with death, man. people don’t come back right, but also, just, like, let them rest, all right? let the dead rest.

[image description: the “society if X” meme, showing a futuristic “ideal” society full of green landscapes, smooth silver buildings, and flying cars. the text on the top reads “society if no one did necromancy.” the text on the bottom reads “this post made by the official mage’s guild don’t do necromancy you freaks bottom text.” in the corner you can see the imgflip.com watermark that i could have erased were i less lazy.]

“so what CAN you do with magic?”

the average joe? not much. again, there aren’t specific categories of magic; there aren’t any ATLA-style bending divisions. if you and i have the same raw amount of energy, there’s no reason we can’t both learn the same spells.

that said, the average person doesn’t have a lot of magic! it is much less dramatic than i’ve made it sound. there are not big magical firefights happening marvel-movie-style on every city street. if you want to talk to your friend, you use your iphone, not some kind of distance-speaking spell (which would be hard to maintain anyway and oh my god the phone lines are right there). the average person, on a daily basis, will use their small amounts of magic to heat their coffee up, or to wipe up a mess or spill, or to clean their floor re: the socks i mentioned earlier. (while writing this post, i had to begrudgingly admit that the socks were not going to scuttle anywhere, and i was forced to pick them up with my hands, manually. tragic, i know.)

again. dovermorry is the exception to this rule. most of the people in dovermorry have a little too much money and a little too much magic and not nearly enough chill. but dovermorry has also been festering like a petri dish alone up in the mountains for decades so what can you do.

“hold on, are you telling me that people in darklingverse didn’t immediately start wielding innate magic quantities as a tool of classism? sounds fake”

regretfully i cannot retcon classism out of darklingverse as it is relevant to the plot. this is because the plot is “Incredible: This Rich White Guy Has Never Been Told No And Doesn’t Know How To Handle It Without Crytyping!”

[image description: a picrew of leovald stayer, a pale-skinned man with short blond hair and an angry-looking frown, plus tears that i drew onto him with the paint tool in paint.net. beside his head is red crytyping text reading “ii’mm sso; so..rryy i didn’t[ mme  a nit wwhy . are yu,,o suiiicdee .bai,,it,ing MMe gr;;acen im yuour da[d,,,”]

the general implicit belief across the country, but especially in highly stratified cities like dovermorry, is that upper-class people from distinguished noble families are just naturally born with more magic, and lower-class people are born with progressively less as we trip down the social ladder. is this kind of true, demographically? yeah but everyone’s got their cause-and-effect turned around. class doesn’t dictate natural magic so much as natural magic dictates class. the people on top like to be on top. and having jacked-up magic is a nice way to stay on top. so rip to the rich kids born with piddly little amounts of raw magic, because your family probably is not going to help you get places. and rip to everyone else born with piddly little amounts of magic, too, because unless you’re REALLY good at something nonmagical, you probably are not going to Strike It Big because those in power are gonna keep you down. and if you DO make it to the top you’ll be viewed as an exception that proves the rule.

there is some magic that is genuinely naturally harder to work with. the upper classes are personally really invested in making sure that kind of magic is painted as rough and lower-class. this is because it is threatening to them! and they do not want to be threatened. unless, of course, it’s them with the hard-to-handle magic. and then they’re fine with it.

“but didn’t you say everyone’s magic is basically the same?”

everyone’s magic can be wielded to do basically the same things. you can’t control how much flows through you. you CAN control where/how it gets out. and everyone’s pathways for how to let it out are basically the same (see the examples i mentioned above!). but some magic is a lot easier to control than other magic.

you can’t just not use magic, because if you don’t use it, it will use itself. it will Do Shit On Its Own. and that’s where this gets sticky.

so let’s get into that.

active vs. passive magic

now with fun diagrams!

[image description: a rainbow spectrum stretching from blue to red. the leftmost end (blue) is labeled “’passive’ magic” and “way down here you can mostly do fun party tricks.” the rightmost end (red) is labeled “’active’ magic” and “way down here you’re officially a ‘witch’ lol.”]

when i say active vs. passive magic, i should specify that this is not a strict binary! i’m about to use the terms in a sort of binary way to simplify this post down, but magic exists on a spectrum.* generally the less raw magic energy you have, the more “passive” your magic will be, but that’s not a hard and fast rule! characters vee and rory, for example, both have comparatively passive magic; however, rory’s is smaller and generally good for party tricks, illusions, and sleight of hand, while vee has more magic that he finds is really good for things like Growing Plants Really Fast and Making The Plants Do What You Want.

*i know this looks like some kind of metaphor for gender but i swear it’s not. you can trans your gender no matter WHAT your magic looks like i promise <3

i mentioned that if it builds up for too long unused, magic will Do Shit On Its Own. with passive magic, the Shit It Does is, like, accidentally growing a plant where plants shouldn’t grow, or changing your hair color when you aren’t looking. slow seeping magic that just kind of oozes out of you until you notice, “wait, shit, my hair didn’t used to be blue.” with active magic, if you don’t control it, it will Break Shit and it will not be nice about it.

active magic is - if we simplify both the magic binary and human genetics until they’re really really blurry - the dominant trait. if you made a middle school biology punnet square, active magic would be the dominant allele and passive the recessive allele. (i haven’t taken a bio class in two years no one get my ass for this analogy.) the child’s magic will take after whichever parent has more active magic. so, to illustrate that, let’s look at a normal family with a normal non-scandalous family tree. by which of course i mean the greenwoods. [canned laugh track playing in the studio]

here are ara, griffin, and medea (parents) charted by how active their magic is:

[image description: the same spectrum, now featuring three picrews of characters. ara, a dark-skinned woman with wavy black hair, freckles, and glasses, is placed leftmost, closest to the blue/passive end. griffin, a dark-skinned man with short black hair and glasses, is placed near the middle of the spectrum, slightly to the left. medea, a pale-skinned woman with spiky white hair, freckles, and gold hoop earrings, is placed rightmost, at the very edge of the red/active end.]

...and here’s how that went for them, progeny-wise:

[image description: a little family tree. ara and griffin’s child, vee, a dark-skinned person with wavy black hair, a worried look, and band-aids on his face, is labeled “quiet unobtrusive plant-based magic” in green text. medea and griffin’s child, jasper, a lighter-skinned person with spiky brown hair and freckles, is labeled “once accidentally shattered 50 champagne glasses at his dad’s birthday party” in red text.]

(yes, i know i said there aren’t any ATLA-esque magical divisions; that’s still true; vee just happens to get on really, really well with plants. much like jasper gets on really really well with entropy and causing problems on purpose.)

so the thing about “active” magic is that it’s usually more powerful, but if it’s too powerful it gets incredibly destructive. like i said earlier - if you’re part of the upper class, it shakes out fine; otherwise not so much. your choices with this kind of dangerous magic are to either fight it and keep it tamped down, or to lean completely into it and embrace your massive amounts of dangerous power. if you are rich, you can do that second thing! that’s what leovald stayer does, and he’s the president of the mage’s guild! good for him! [i say, through gritted teeth.] but if you aren’t rich, you had better try to keep that shit on lockdown, unless you want to be branded a reckless uncultured social deviant and - in most cases - a witch.

mages vs. witches

everyone with magic is a mage. only a few mages are witches. it’s like squares and rectangles, you know? you can hear gracen talk about that here in nice prose (plus baby cressida!), but the bottom line is that “witch” is shorthand for “woman* who has magic so powerful it’s unsafe, who uses it to break shit and be reckless,” and anyone with the “wrong” type of magic who doesn’t have a trust fund to back them up is getting tarred with that brush. they’re nothing like those elegant learned mages casting down benevolent laws from their ivory towers, you see.

*this isn’t a gender specific thing but usually women are the ones who get called witches because Women Should Know How To Control Themselves But Men Are Just Like That. god we love misogyny <3

tl;dr: misogyny and classism real. if you have hard-to-control magic that breaks shit then you’re destined to be a pariah UNLESS of course you’re rich and powerful and then it’s COOL that if you got too out-of-control you could collapse a building or cause a monumental storm or something. you know. cool.

[image description: the same magic spectrum. medea is still there, placed exactly where she was before. leovald’s face is also there, right above hers; in terms of magic, they are equally placed on the spectrum. leovald is labeled “runs the whole city” and medea is labeled “lives in a cave in the woods,” both in white text. there are three thinking emojis at the very top of the image.]

funny how these things work out.

in conclusion

in conclusion, if you’ve read all of this, you’re braver than the marines and have my undying love. if you’re down here for a tl;dr: magic is a natural force everyone is born with; some magic is comparatively harder to control; classism & other social structures affect the way a person’s magic is viewed (there are a lot of double standards); i really enjoy making little oc diagrams.

if you have questions, comments, etc, about this post or darkling in general, my ask box is always open! thank you for reading! [blowing you a kiss]

[macklives]

hey so this is gonna be a long-ish one. ive decided its been far too long since i did a session, and we did so many i can often forget what happened. i started in july and im pretty sure its been more than half a year now since this whole blog happened. and in that time, we’ve gone through 88 sessions and i want to know if i remember the relevant plot points and what we got up to in the last few sessions. a refresh/reminder if you would.

so i hereby commence my own little recap of act 5 because yeah no, its too much to do a recap of everything and i have andrew for that after every few acts. but i wanna refresh my mind on act 5 for now. so here we go.

1. alternia.. fucked up place. but its a place the trolls live on so what are we gonna do about it? overthrow the government? seems about right, lets do that with the next troll that gets introduced and if its not kanaya idk what andrew is doing by not having introduced the best troll yet. why the long wait? it was the second introduced? i honestly expected it to go in order when i first read act 5, because first we had karkat talk to jade which was the first new piece dialogue in the comic besides the main kids, but then we had kanaya with rose, which was followed by tavros, then terezi (iirc). so id assume we were following that order but nope karkat got fully introduced, then this random fucking juggalo called gamzee made its way into the comic. imagine my surprise.

2. theres been terminology throughout act 5, that i do not fucking know and will not remember and probably never will. like tf is a perigee again? i made a doc somewhere ill probably find it.

3. karkat’s introduction... short but very sweet. and by sweet i mean we got to know the depths of the angry edge lord. and by depths i mean karkat got angry at gamzee for typing in a way that he didnt like so he yapped like a chihuahua. nah, but seriously, i do like karkat tho, hes growing on me but only bc hes a bitch baby and his whole personality makes me want to mock him so thats the reason im not that annoyed and think hes funny, and the most harmless troll. even more so than tavros. and thats saying something. 7.5/10 bc im generous.

4. then gamzee... the high juggalo troll who has the worst typing quirk imo, i cannot for the life of me read it. but hes chill, i actually really like gamzee. hes funny and the least problematic as of right now. 8.5/10.

5. terezi’s introduction next i think. she likes playing as a lawyer with her stuffed dragons, ie by roleplay, shes blind, can see through licking, and she likes eating chalk, maybe its even nutritious. shes good. 9/10. 

6. uhh in the process of these intros, there are teams being made? karkat joins gamzee and terezi in, i THINK, the red team?? bc terezi likes red?? could be wrong, i dont remember the teams except that its red/blue to represent sollux’s duality in those colors. terezi then tries recruiting AC but AC is like lol sorry i have to ask this friend of mine who has authority over me for some goddamn reason and terezi goes yuck tf i hate that guy................... yeah thats all we have on the teams. pretty sure sollux had smth to do with karkat about the making of the leaders, and they did the “i hate me” and the “no i hate me more than u hate u” or whatever the fuck that was. they got embarrassed afterwards and deleted their messages. im pretty sure they have no messages because everything ends up being mutually deleted so their logs are actually empty. ngl, kinda enjoyed their convos, made me appreciate their characters. i hope we get more because its good content. i also dont know what order this whole thing is in, who contacted who first? couldnt tell you. ill remember later on. and since im basing this off from memory alone, gotta deal with what i remember. uhhhh so yeah. we havent met all characters yet so the teams have not been officially decided but we got the bases, which is that.

7. god i found it, and the only thing im looking at right now is the terminology list i made and what the fuck?? what the fuck?? you miss a few weeks and suddenly the word nubslurping comes up and you forget what the fuck youre reading.

8. im PRETTY SURE aradia is seen after that whole team fiasco?? or its sollux... maybe. wait. its sollux, right. i just knew someone gets introduced mid way through is all. actually, someone gets introduced after every 20 pages. i have no idea. but ik aradia and sollux go hand in hand.

9. oh shit. OH SHIT! RIGHT! I REMEMBER! so this occurs in the latest session i did, and not the beginning of act 5, but AG and aradia team up, right?? and sollux fucking gets manipulated by them and ??? idk??? they make him find the game, reprogram it and then make him believe its going to end the world (which in hindsight is true, but anyways) so he refuses to play it which was AG’s plan all along so she steps up and becomes leader in his place. but aradia says sollux will still play the game no matter what, but she never went through with the plan for AG but it was apart of a prophecy? that sollux wouldnt be the leader at all? that he’d still play? but it had to go according to plan so it could succeed??? we just dont know why yet. anyways, point being, she still cares for sollux since she did it for him rather than for AG. and thats what i recall. god tf i forgot about that whole drama until writing down “sollux and aradia go hand in hand” which gave me violent flashbacks to the memory.

10. oh and id give aradia 9/10 and sollux 7/10. i do like sollux but if i put him higher than karkat, id get crucified. so im keeping them around the same.

11. man i really like sollux and aradia tho, i may have put him at 7, but i really like their dynamic and i really hope they make up and aradia explains herself about AG. because from one side it looks shitty. and while sollux is rude and never makes up his mind, he apologized to aradia after going off, and that was the only time ive seen him be sincere, so im pretty sure he cares for her to some extent. and i think its somewhat mutual? considering the whole “did it for him” thing. man, i see potential because i actually like both their characters. theyre well written. may not have the best personalities, but i appreciate well written characters and homestuck has the best ones ive seen in a while.

12. oh shit, hell yeah, the more i write, the more im connecting the dots and remembering. however, the more i write, the more i want to just make an analogy post but thats not for now. jesus christ its not all about analogies, mack, this is a recap. but.. how does andrew do it? to not go off track??? hard. telling ya.

13. anyways, didnt we break the fourth wall at some point and have the demon gods or whatever the fuck speak to us in third person for the first time in the comic, after having only gone into second person narrative, right after we were introduced to sollux and his “virus”? the uh, the phrase “the demon was already here” was said, or something along those lines. first line in homestuck to give me the creeps ngl and i appreciate it bc it gives me motivation to know what the fuck its about. its cool bc you have no idea where its going and it sure doesnt have anything to do with the current plot, since the trolls’ session/game doesnt have fucking demons so im curious as to what the fuck that was about. and if i really have to make a theory, i feel it has something to do with aradia’s voices in her head which also connect to the gods rose heard when she started disregarding rules and told dave to look at derse without listening to music bc it was as if he was purposely blocking away their calls. like holy shit, that gave me the shivers. while i do want to know more about wtf happens after act 4, trolls are taking priority right now. just like we did with the intermission. no discussing the kids unless necessary. treat this as its own separate comic. and THEN we can connect.

14. ANYWAYS, tavros’ intro???? that comes afterwards?? with the fiduspawn that made me gag a little on the inside? yep. remember that. fuck that lol. -1/10 but tavros himself is MAYBE a 6/10? i wish we explored his character more in his intro bc right now he just looks like a character made only to be a victim rather than have any depth and i feel thats robbing someone of their full potential. give me more personality andrew, rather than a quivering boy who falls prey to bitches. im expecting more throughout the comic honestly and i hope he gets growth so hes not looked as a “victim” but rather his own character. he is still sweet, and i like him because i want to protect him, but id rather have more info, you know what i mean?

15. oh hell. kanaya had a chainsaw at some point. that made me happy. and didnt she cut off tavros’ legs?? and he got robot ones? and some creepy dude was looking and we called him saggy tits bc hes sagittarius? right? neat. that did happen. pretty sure saggy tits is ACs friend that tells her what to do. the more u know. OH and they all have colored blood similar to their text colors lol. that i remember... so tavros has brown, terezi has blueish green, um. karkat has grey the loser. and apparently it forms a rainbow which is nice. rainbow is good.

16. i dont remember anything else actually

17. wait no i do. AG appeared. shes a petty bully. idk what to say about her. we didnt get that much, except that she hates tavros but is okay with aradia. she also looks like a bottle opener. actually, i think she teamed with aradia to gain leadership rather than to “be friends”. and while that is similar to how karkat did it, meaning the gain, the motivation and how they earned it is entirely different. kinda seeing a trend tho. the leaders of the red/blue teams are both characters who wanted the role, but never had it to begin with. only to win their way into the position. but rather than ask non-stop like karkat did, AG manipulated others so she could be successful. not too sure if she also used aradia for that, or is actually motivated to become friends since they were “past enemies” and she needed a rebound. pretty sure its somewhat both. while AG did mostly use aradia to speak with sollux, what she doesnt know is that aradia is a bad bitch who never even thought about AG and only followed through with the plan bc she had a plan of her own. i guess we’ll look into that later. i lowkey want to know their history.

18. OH AC!!! she appeared for a second as well. love her. shes amazing. 9.5/10. and you may ask yourself, why am i saying “i love this character” but none of them are 10/10?? weellllll its because, and i cant stress this enough, 10/10 belongs to kanaya, i dont make the rules. im waiting for her introduction, shes my favorite and its obvious. sorry.

19. oh huh seems i forgot about the term “lusus”. which.. is.. their parents but not really, its these fucking weird ass creatures that the trolls fought in a cave or something as a child. i dont fucking know. terezi hatched hers and it died? gamzee’s also died but his goat sea dad was never really there to begin with so while it is sad, its more sad that gamzee never saw him? um.. karkat killed his own by exploding his computer bc sollux said dont run the virus and karkat said u cant tell me what to do and did it anyways. so thats on him. but apparently theyre supposed to die, to become prototyped during the game, right? yeah. i remember now.

20. thats.. about it? idk anything else, nothing is coming back to me apart from the shit above. huh.... im surprised how quickly things do come back to you the moment you rant about the plot tho.... handy trick.

cool. neat. fun. this took me too long. but im glad i remember a little bit.

[habibialkaysani]

The Old Guard (Laurel/Nyssa; M) - Part II

Ships: Laurel/Nyssa

Summary: Laurel Lance and Nyssa Raatko are happily married - and have been for centuries. Along with Helena Bertinelli, this immortal army follows their equally immortal leader, Dina Drake, in the fights that they think are right.

But after one of their comrades makes a fatal lapse in judgement, Laurel and Nyssa find themselves trapped in their very worst nightmare - captured, as nothing more than lab rats. Luckily, the team has also just found its newest member, Sarah Diggle, so maybe all isn’t lost.

A/N:  Happy New Year everyone! Gonna start out 2021 with a new chapter of this, and then all that will be left is a bit of smut :D

Read at AO3

At Fuller Pharmaceuticals, Laurel breathed a sigh of relief when the scientist finally walked away, frowning at his clipboard and adjusting his glasses with one gloved hand. Turning a little on her side, she looked across her to the bed next to hers, and even though Nyssa was hooked up to a million machines just like Laurel, it was a relief to see her awake again. 

"Hey," Laurel said softly. 

"Are you okay, hayati?" Nyssa asked with concern in her eyes. "Laurel? What are you thinking about?" 

"Honestly, I was, uh, thinking about - simpler times. When it was just the two of us, and the biggest thing we had to worry about was reconciling being from wildly different worlds yet still finding each other…" 

"Dearest," Nyssa said with a smile, "it is like I told Ms Diggle. Some people are just meant to find each other. One way or another. And I realise, Laurel, that we are in hellish circumstances right now. But you have to know - I made you a promise, to spend however many centuries, or decades, or weeks, or days, or hours or even seconds I have left in my life with you. I swore an oath to you that I don't plan on breaking. Not now. Not ever."

Laurel smiled back, revelling in how Nyssa’s face lit up as she did so. “You know I love you, right?”

“I do, my love, but I will never tire of hearing it.”

“Remember Malta, habibti?”

“What time in Malta?” Nyssa asked, and Laurel met her gaze and arched her eyebrow. Laurel couldn’t help but chuckle because she could pinpoint the exact point when it dawned on Nyssa what she meant. A faint rosy blush coloured Nyssa’s cheeks and Laurel sighed - because even where they were, with the flecks of blood scattered on her forehead and her mussed up hair there was no doubt that Nyssa Raatko was the most beautiful woman Laurel had ever seen. “Ah. That time in Malta.”

“I could really use that Hilton honeymoon suite right about now.”

“That would be nice. What was it you said? Or did I say it - that we weren’t gonna stop till we passed out?”

Laurel laughed. "It was me, definitely. I think we must have lasted… sixteen hours, if I recall correctly.” Nyssa smiled, shrugging nonchalantly. “What if… what if we said that - if we get out of here -”

“When we get out of here,” Nyssa said firmly.

“When we get out of here,” Laurel said softly, “we… try breaking that record?”

“You promise?”

“You want me to cross my heart?” Laurel was probably deflecting a bit now, to fight off the emotion that threatened to break over her at any moment with a shaky smile that she knew Nyssa could see right through.

“I love you,” Nyssa whispered, “and we will be fine. I promise.”

Laurel held onto that confession from her beloved as tightly as she could in her mind, as the scientist returned with even more invasive and painful tests. She kept in her screams for as long as she could, not because she was afraid of showing weakness but rather because she knew Nyssa couldn't bear to hear them - only after the fifth extraction, this one from Laurel's brain, there was nothing she could do to curb her agony as the needle pierced her temple. Laurel's screams prompted Nyssa's, prolonged when the scientist kept the needle in long after she had collected the tissue she needed. 

It was only when Laurel's lungs felt like they were being rubbed raw from the inside that the scientist finally seemed done with her. But then Laurel was filled with horror at the sight of the scientist raising a fresh needle and looking for the right spot on Nyssa. 

Desperately, Laurel wanted to tell the evil woman to fucking take her again, not to touch Nyssa, not to lay a hand on her or so help her God - but nothing came out of Laurel's mouth except for a strangled croaky sound. 

Suddenly the double doors nearest them burst open, and Laurel was shocked to see Dina, a gunshot wound at her side, unconscious, and Helena, who looked shaken but otherwise unhurt. 

"Shit," Laurel croaked. 

"Dina!" Nyssa shouted. 

Ignoring both of them, the soldiers manhandling Dina and Helena strapped them into the beds next to Laurel and Nyssa. The scientist was at Dina's side in an instant. 

"I want her alive," said another voice, and Laurel squinted as Max Fuller stepped into her line of sight. 

"I'll need an IV in her, and some antibiotics," the scientist said. 

"Good," Fuller said, clapping his hands together like he was a child. "Good. Work fast - I expect results. Even from the dying one. Even if you have to carve slices from these fuckers to do it." 

"This is not what was agreed," Helena said hotly. "None of this is -" 

Laurel was sure in that moment that her heart thudded to a complete halt. "What the fuck did you just say?" 

"I can explain," Helena said, but the pieces were already falling into place in Laurel's brain, and clearly in Nyssa's too. 

"Oh, Helena," Nyssa said in a hushed tone. "Helena. What have you done?" 

"I'll let you ladies talk this out while you still can," Fuller said with a smirk. "As for what was agreed - even if it wasn’t between you and Ms Waller, do I really strike you as a man to keep to my word?" 

With that, Fuller sauntered out of the lab, and Nyssa struggled against her restraints. "You selfish piece of garbage, Helena!" 

"Nyssa," Laurel said, "don't." 

"No, Laurel - I will not sit here and watch you be tortured because our friend decided to betray us!" 

"They tortured you?" Helena said, and while she spoke, Dina began to stir. The scientist was still in the midst of changing Dina's bandage, before hooking her up to an IV bag. 

"Did you think Doctor Evil over here would make me a cup of tea?" 

To her credit, the scientist did not comment on this, instead pulling off his gloves and walking away. Helena grunted and tried to sit up. "I'm sorry, okay? This wasn't how it was supposed to go -" 

"Damn right it wasn't," Nyssa said. "I thought we were your family."

"I just wanted a way out, okay?" 

"And in the process," Laurel said bitterly, "you found the boss's instead." 

"I didn't know she wasn't healing," Helena said. "I wouldn't have shot her if I knew that -" 

"You shot her? As if being a traitor isn't enough on its own?" 

"Stop it," Dina said weakly, and she was clearly groggy and not fully lucid, but it was enough to quieten everyone for a moment. 

"Boss, you still with us?" Laurel said. "Boss?" 

"Still kicking," Dina said faintly. "But everything really fucking hurts." 

"You're going to be okay," Nyssa said, as she always did - but Laurel wondered if that was possible given their circumstances. 

"Oh, Nyssa," Dina said with the tiniest trace of a smile on her dull lips. "I say this with love, but you are a really shitty liar." 

"I'm sorry, boss," Helena said. "If I knew -" 

"- it wouldn't have changed a goddamn thing," Dina panted. "We both know that. More than anyone in this room." 

Laurel took this in in silence. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"You and Nyssa always had each other," Helena said. "From the beginning it was you and her. Always and forever. But me - all I had was my grief. And Dina too -" 

"Don't you fucking dare bring her into this," Laurel snarled. 

"I did want a way out," Dina admitted. "I was tired too. But it wasn’t supposed to be like this, Helena. Not with people who see us as nothing but lab rats. Just because I wanted an end doesn't mean I wanted it to be this messy. Or that you’d get our family involved. I can't believe you came to these people for answers." 

"I made a mistake." Helena looked at Laurel pleadingly, but Laurel had no sympathy now towards the woman she would have died for mere hours earlier.

"Quelle fucking surprise." 

“It just got out of hand. Waller didn't say anything about anyone getting hurt. And it was just meant to be me. None of you.”

“Shut up, Helena,” Dina said tiredly.

“Hear, hear,” Nyssa said.

“No, all of you, shut up! Listen!”

When they all quietened, Laurel could just about make out the sound of a scuffle in the next room, and it was only then she realised who was missing.

“Where’s Sarah?” Laurel said.

“She wanted out, got cold feet, so I gave her the car,” Dina said, panting and struggling to catch her breath as she groaned in pain. “But now I’m thinking -”

She was interrupted, though, when the double doors burst open and the soldiers guarding them fell on their faces in a haze of bullets - and in their wake was Sarah fucking Diggle. 

Laurel was so grateful to see Sarah that her face broke into a smile, to the point that she practically forgot she had been scowling two seconds earlier.

“What are you doing here?” Nyssa said.

“Not that we’re not thrilled to see you, of course -” Laurel interjected.

“I figured we’re not gonna be family until I get to save your asses, right?” Sarah said with a grin, putting a gun in Dina’s hand. “You don’t look so good, Dina.”

“No shit,” Dina said, deadpan, but then she raised her gun and fired two rounds at the soldier that was about to run inside the room. 

“You’ve still got it, boss,” Nyssa said with a wink.

“How did you find us?” Helena asked, with something of a pained expression on her face.

“Someone called Waller,” Sarah answered. “She said she’d made a huge mistake.” 

“Seems to be going around,” Laurel muttered.

Sarah just shrugged. “Anyway. She helped me get in here.” Then, as she unstrapped Dina’s other wrist, Sarah asked, “You okay to move?”

“I was ready yesterday, kid.”

Next to Dina was Laurel, who Sarah freed from her restraints, and then Laurel jumped up to do the same for Nyssa. The two of them found their shirts underneath their beds, hastily pulling them on and buttoning them up.

When Sarah started to undo Helena’s restraints, though, Helena shook her head. “Just leave me here, Sarah.”

“I’m not leaving anyone behind,” Sarah said firmly.

“First time for everything,” Nyssa said, but Dina held up her hand.

“No. She’s coming. We’re gonna end Fuller and then will all walk out of here in one piece. Same as always.”

“She sold us out, boss!” 

“I’m aware,” Dina said, grimacing in pain and scrunching her eyes shut as she got to her feet. “But she’s still one of us. Just like I am. Even though both of us have lost our way a bit.”

“Boss -”

“You and me, Helena, we’re still in this shitty game together, all right? Maybe I believed you all the times that you said that all we had was our own grief -”

“What are you talking about?” Nyssa demanded sharply. 

Dina didn’t answer, though - Helena did. “You wouldn’t understand, Nyssa. Sometimes I wonder if you even see anyone in the world beside your wife -”

“Don’t you fucking dare start on her,” Laurel warned, but Dina held up her hand in finality.

“You’re gonna have her back and she’ll have yours, Laurel, Nyssa, and that’s an order,” Dina interrupted, and after glancing at Nyssa, Laurel nodded resignedly, accepting the handgun Sarah handed to her. 

“Copy that.”

“All ready to roll?”

They moved out, and despite their fractured state as a team they still worked well together - they fought using the muscle memory that came with decades and centuries of being on the front lines flanking and protecting one another. 

But this time one of their number was injured, and that slowed them in a way they weren’t used to. Sarah took three bullets for Dina, shielding her, and Nyssa, getting the same idea, followed her lead, doing the same by covering Dina on her left. Laurel brought up the rear, following the team into the reception area of Fuller Incorporated - but they were then hit by tear gas, making their formation scatter. 

Faintly, Laurel could hear Helena saying that they were moving out, and Laurel reached around blindly in the gas clouding the air, searching increasingly desperately for her beloved’s wrist. When she found it she breathed a sigh of relief, but she then had the wind knocked out of her as two soldiers wrestled her to the floor and the bang of bullets sounded. Laurel felt a surge of adrenaline, white-hot with rage, as she kicked her assailants with such force that they were knocked off their feet; for good measure Laurel stamped on their throats, before the gas cleared and she could just make out Nyssa lying on the floor.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Laurel whispered. Nyssa was motionless, a bloodied wound on her head where she’d been shot, and all of a sudden and all at once, it hit her: she started to understand Helena’s forlorn expression as she spoke of loneliness and grief. “Nyssa. NYSSA! Awaken, my love. Please. Please don’t leave me. Not now. I can’t. I can’t do this without you, habibti. Habibti, please wake up. Habibti -”

With a gasp, Nyssa came back to life, and in a way so did Laurel, her intake of breath so sharp it was like Nyssa had breathed life into them both. Tears dripping down her cheeks, Laurel cradled Nyssa’s face, her jaw, her fingers meeting blood and dirt.

“Nyssa,” Laurel said reverently, and her love’s name tasted like a prayer on her tongue. “I thought I lost you.”

“I’m okay, ya Laurel. Let’s go - Dina needs us.”

In the end, their day only took one more strange turn, when Sarah defeated their enemy by running him out of a sixty-seventh storey window, crashing into a car. Nyssa helped Sarah to her feet, along with Helena, and they piled into a car and drove away. 

So much went on in such a short period of time that Laurel, in the passenger seat beside Nyssa, only realised her legs were shaking when her wife's hand found her knee to still it. 

[purplesurveys]

982

survey by vsmilee  Have you ever been to Disneyland? Nope. I’d like to visit a Disneyland at least once in my life just to say that I’ve gone there, but overall I think it’s too tourist-y for me and I might just find the sheer amount of people annoying.

What's your favorite color? I like pink and its different shades.

What's your boyfriend's name? I don’t have one.

How many siblings do you have? Two.

Do you sing in the shower? Eh, sometimes. But I typically don’t because I hate hearing my singing voice and the echo in the bathroom just makes it louder.

When you get dressed in the morning, what do you put on first? Well, underwear.

What do you do right before you go to sleep? I pick a video to watch and then let the background noise lull me to sleep.

How far have you gone with someone of the opposite sex? Slow dancing, lmao. I’ve never been physical with a guy.

Have you ever been drunk? Yes. Ah, college days. I did some pretty dumb shit too.

It's 2am and your phone rings. Do you answer it? Yes, as long as I know the person. If they’re calling at 2 AM there must be a reason, and it’s always better to treat everything as an emergency instead of having regrets in the end.

What would be a good reason for you to skip school? I didn’t feel like going to class. I’m not that hard to influence, ha.

Are you in a band? Nope, never been.

As a child did you ever suck your thumb or fingers? I don’t think that was ever an issue with me. If it was, my mom would have had endless stories about it but she’s never mentioned anything about me sucking my thumb, so.

Do you twirl your hair? It’s not really a quirk of mine. I brush my fingers through it a lot more often.

What make is your cell phone? Apple.

What is your dad's name? Edgardo. He hates his main nickname so I won’t share it on here, but I do know he’s made it a point to be known as Ed in his workplace.

Do you have a planner or calendar? I have neither. We do have a Google Sheets file at work where we list down the tasks we do everyday, and I guess that counts as my planner since that’s how I keep track of my deliverables.

Do you keep a journal? I’ve started keeping one, yes. But I don’t write on it everyday or even weekly. I just do so whenever I feel like it.

What's your biggest secret? The biggest one I’ve ever kept was probably my relationship with Gabie. And this blog, haha.

What is your favorite subject in school? History. All kinds of it. Language class in middle school was also fun because it literally just taught English grammar, which I had already mastered at that point.

What year do/did you graduate high school? I graduated in 2016.

What do you want to major in in college? I majored in journalism. I’m done with college as well.

What is your best friend's name? Angela, Gabie. Take your pick.

What is your favorite TV show? Breaking Bad. I recently came across the “Stay out of my territory” scene after several years of not watching it and holy fuck. I need to watch the whole damn series again. The writing is unbelievable.

What time do you usually go to bed? It ranges from 9 PM to 12 AM. Depends on how much caffeine is still left in my system at the end of the day.

What side of the bed to you sleep on? It’s a twin, it’s not like there are sides haha. But back when Gab and I would sleep in the same bed, I was always on the right side.

Where are your parents right now? My mom is either still at work or on her way home from work. I’m guessing my dad is already in the kitchen preparing dinner.

How many days old are you? According to a quick Google search, 8211 days. 

What do you want to wish for? Some goddamn normalcy. I’m also wishing for a full-time job, but I’ve been happy in my internship too so I’m not feeling too desperate for the former now.

What are you hoping to achieve this year? Well I planned to come out after graduating, but that never panned out. Otherwise, I’ve done everything I had set out to do for 2020 - graduate, graduate with honors, finish my thesis, (kinda) get employed, start earning my own money. There’s a lot to be proud of, now that I think about it.

Do you love anyone? Yes.

Does anyone love you? I hope.

What's your favorite animal? Dogs or elephants.

Have you ever been to the zoo? Yeah, once. Hated the experience. It was a family trip though so I couldn’t get out of it.

What is your favorite ride at Disneyland?

What is your favorite teacher's name? I don’t want to say full names but the name of my favorite teacher from my first school starts with an E, and the name of my favorite prof in college starts with...oof, also an E, heh.

Have you ever been in marching band? No, we don’t have that kind of club here.

What group were/are you a part of in high school? I was in yearbook, a media club, and table tennis.

Do you have any enemies? Nope.

Have you ever been a cheerleader? Nah. I like watching cheerdance competitions, but I was never one of them.

Did you ever date anyone on the football team? Nah, I wasn’t interested in them. Plus they all dated each other anyway.

What is/was your rival school in high school? Tbh all the all-girls schools in Metro Manila and other neighboring cities act like rivals, but there’s never been any official feud among us or between any two schools.

What grade in school was your favorite? I liked Grade 7 and Years III and IV.

Where do you want to go to college? I wanted to go to UP and ended up going to college – and graduating – there.

How many stars can you see in the sky right now? I can make out one very bright star, but there’s also a big tree blocking most of my view when I look out the window.

What is your favorite color? This was the second question on this survey. I answered pink.

If you could eat dinner with anyone (dead or alive) who would you choose? My grandpa so I can get him up to speed with all the things I’ve done and achieved since he passed.

Do you believe in God? No.

Do you sleep with stuffed animals? Never did.

What is your favorite book? I don’t have any.

Who is your favorite actor/actress? Kate Winslet.

What's the worst lie you've ever told? I don’t like telling lies. If I do, they’re small, forgettable ones.

Are you pretty gullible? Quite, yeah. It makes me an easy target for both family and friends, haha.

How many consecutive days have you ever missed of school? I think it was around 3-4 days, when my dad booked a trip to Bali in the middle of a school week.

What do you want right now? Well it turns out my dad had food from Shakey’s delivered so I just wanna be all over that right now...

Have you ever been pregnant? Never have.

What is your favorite kind of chocolate? Milk chocolate laced with peanut butter.

Who is most likely to read this? It’s hard to tell. Maybe a couple of people, maybe no one but me.

What are you going to do after you're done? Probably take another one orrrrrrr go on YouTube.

Are you in love with anyone? Yeah.

[katalicz]

19 bliban if it tickles your fancy

of course my friend, here you go!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17440433/chapters/49387754

“I could kill you right now!” 

Blitz has been awake for long enough to realise that he is, once more, in a hospital, when the door to his room swings open and Bandit appears, still in his gear and with a furious look on his face.

“You’re an idiot!” he bites out, striding forwards and throwing himself into the chair by Blitz’s bedside before Blitz can open his mouth to say hello. He can’t even protest that he isn't an idiot, because he isn't exactly sure what he’s done this time to end up here. The painkillers are making his entire body feel horribly fuzzy and his mind is still mostly blank from the anaesthetic, which is enough to tell him that he’s had more than a little fall, at least.

“Hi,” he says – or croaks, rather, since his throat feels as though he’s gargled a handful of gravel, and Bandit scowls before carefully guiding a cup of water he’s procured from seemingly nowhere to Blitz’s lips to allow him to drink.

“What time is it?” Blitz asks when he’s finished, watching as Bandit tosses the cup over his shoulder to land neatly in the bin. It’s very impressive, he thinks, but doesn’t say it for the fear of annoying Bandit more.

“It’s almost seven,” Bandit replies, crossing his arms. Blitz doesn’t have the strength to reach out and take one of his hands, which is a little concerning, but overall, that’s not too bad considering that the raid had started at eleven.

The thought must show on his face, because Bandit closes his eyes in frustration and says, “Seven am. You’ve been here for 15 hours, you idiot.”

Ah. That explains the fury, then, as well as the dark bags sitting like bruises beneath Bandit’s eyes. Knowing him, which Blitz is pleased to say he does, he’ll have been awake all this time, prowling through the hospital ward and making anyone he encounters shy away in terror.

“I feel fine,” he says mildly, and tries to wiggle his toes. They respond after a few attempts, thankfully, and he looks back up to see Bandit watching him with a worryingly unreadable look on his face. “It can’t have been that bad.”

“You don’t remember what happened,” Bandit says flatly, a statement instead of a question. Blitz winces when he has try harder than usual to shake his head no. “And stop moving before Doc sees you and ties you to the damn bench.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Blitz muses, still trying and failing to read the look in Bandit’s eyes. He hopes it’s just the drugs making him slow; he’d spent a ridiculous amount of time learning to read Bandit’s many, many faces, and really doesn’t want to consider that he’s forgotten any of them. He’d probably earn an award for being a terrible boyfriend, if he had. “He likes me, I’m a good patient.”

Bandit blinks at him once, and Blitz’s heart lurches in his chest as the look fades from unreadable to completely blank in the way it only does when Bandit is shutting himself away from the world and away from any kind of emotion and away from Blitz.

“Dom?” he says, as gently as he can, and forces his arm out to grasp weakly at Bandit’s clenched hands.

It’s the wrong thing to do; Bandit lurches to his feet with a snarl, sending his chair clattering to the floor. His body is wrought with a tension that makes Blitz’s shoulders ache to look at, and he wants to reach out, to sit up and draw him close, but he can’t.

“Bandit—” he starts weakly, not knowing what else to do. For a painful beat nothing happens, then Bandit is turning on his heal and storming away with a cold fury that makes Blitz’s chest hurt to watch.

“You almost died!” Bandit snaps, eyes glinting dangerously when he turns, and Blitz’s breath catches in his throat as the meaning of the words sink in. “You took a bullet an inch away from your goddamn spine, you absolute fucking idiot—”

“I didn’t, though,” Blitz hears himself say, even as his blood seems to freeze in his veins with terror, as his pulse thunders in his ears.  “It’s okay, I’m fine.”

Bandit pauses in his tracks to stare at him, and Blitz’s skin prickles under the intensity of his gaze. “I could kill you right now!” Bandit snarls, resuming his pacing of the room, his hands clenched into tight fists that will leave him with a headache if he carries on much longer.

“Please don’t, we spent a lot of time fixing him,” Doc interrupts, appearing in the doorway and smiling wanly at Blitz.

Bandit throws a thunderous glare at him but doesn’t reply, and Doc watches him for a moment before cautiously making his way to Blitz’s bedside.

“How do you feel?” he asks gently, and Blitz closes his eyes for a moment to pull himself together. When he opens them, Doc is watching calmly, the eye of the storm that’s still quite literally raging around them.

“Sore,” he replies, wincing as his voice cracks and gratefully accepting the cup of water Doc offers him.

“As you’ve probably heard, you were quite lucky,” Doc says as Blitz drinks, and Blitz has the feeling that he’d be in for a lecture if Doc weren’t looking so worn out. “It wasn’t quite so bad as Bandit was making out, since he ran off when one of the nurses told him to prepare for the worst, which due to the position of the bullet, we initially believed were paralysis or stroke.”

There’s a distressed sound at that which Blitz eventually realises came from him, and a brief pause in pacing when Bandit appears to trip over his own feet. Blitz inhales deeply, holds it for a count of five to try and stop himself from panicking, and exhales.

“What was it actually, then?” he asks quietly, and Doc smiles wanly.

“The bullet was almost stopped by your armour and ended up lodged four centimetres to the left of your upper thoracic spine. The shockwave from the impact would have done the most damage, and whilst we were worried about the risk of paralysis for a while, the MRIs and ultrasound show no damage to the spinal cord or surrounding structures due to low-velocity and low-calibre.” Doc folds his hands together and shrugs.  “We did surgery to remove the bullet, flushed the area to prevent infection, sealed a small tear to your dura, and stitched you up. Easy as that.”

Nothing about it seems easy to Blitz but he nods weakly anyway and closes his eyes again, unwilling to look at Doc’s tired face, at Bandit’s wrath. “That’s good,” he says weakly, and hears Bandit snort from somewhere to his left. “I’m glad it wasn’t a rifle shot.” He’s only half joking, and winces with regret when Bandit curses at him and resumes his stomping with increased vigour.

“So am I,” Doc says quietly, “because then we would be faced with the worst.”

There’s sombre silence for a second, broken only by Bandit’s frantic footsteps, before Doc sighs. “Will you please sit down?” he asks quietly, and the pacing stops, leaving the room uncomfortably quiet. “I’ll sedate you if not; you’re only making yourself worse.”

“Fuck you,” Bandit growls, from much closer now, and a hot hand closes around Blitz’s own. If he clings onto it with enough force to feel the bones shift slightly, Bandit doesn’t seem to notice, and Doc doesn’t seem to care.

He forces his eyes open to find Bandit sat down again, elbow on his knee and face hidden by his free hand. Doc is still watching worriedly, and shrugs a shoulder when Blitz meets his eyes.

“We’ll need to keep you here overnight before returning to base,” he says apologetically, dragging a hand through his hair. “Just to make sure there are no complications from the surgery. Then we’ll do some tests to ensure the nervous system is functioning properly, which shouldn’t take too long.”

Blitz nods, even as fear flutters through his stomach. Bandit’s grip tightens on his hand to the point where it’s almost painful. “How long will it take to recover?” he asks, not really wanting to hear the answer.

Doc sighs. “Not too long, we hope. There will be some muscle weakness due to the surgery but that should pass within a week, and you should be back to normal within a month, with any luck.”

Blitz squeezes Bandit’s hand again and relaxes for the first time since waking up. “That’s not too bad then,” he says, and Doc smiles again.

“Not too bad at all,” he confirms. “Though if you do it again, you’ll be benched from the team until you learn not to run directly into the line of fire like an idiot.”

“I’ll kill you myself if you do it again,” Bandit says hoarsely, peering up through his fingers and scowling fiercely. The effect is ruined by the redness rimming his eyes and the slight tremble to his shoulders, and Blitz’s heart aches for him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, smiling tiredly at the small “fuck you,” he earns for his trouble, and startling when Doc stands up to stretch.

“Anyway,” Doc says, stepping back and checking the line of machines along the wall. “I’ll give you another dose of painkillers but won’t bother putting you under again so we can finish the tests. And if you can persuade him to at least get changed, we’d all be very grateful.” He shoots a mildly amused look at Bandit, who flips him off half-heartedly, and Blitz wrinkles his nose in sympathy with the medical staff. His gear is still filthy with the usual dust and grime from being in the field, and he probably stinks of sweat and gunpowder too.

“I’ll do my best,” he promises, grimacing as Doc fiddles with the machine hooked to the IV line and sends an uncomfortably cool flood of fluid into his veins. The pain that had slowly been building up between his shoulders lessens immediately, though, and he can’t help the small sigh of relief that escapes him.

Doc rolls his eyes and heads for the door. “You should have said it was hurting,” he scolds, “I would have given them to you first.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Blitz replies mildly, but Doc’s already gone, and suddenly the room feels far smaller.

“Don’t you dare do that again,” Bandit says quietly, voice gravelly and breathing loud. “I’m serious. I thought you were dead, when you went down.”

A painful lump forms in Blitz’s throat. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, closing his eyes. He’s hit with a wave of exhaustion, the painkillers and emotions and adrenaline getting the better of him, and when he opens his eyes again, he’s unsurprised to find his vision blurred and cheeks damp.

Bandit watches him quietly, thumb pressing firmly into the back of his hand. The empty storm in his eyes is gone, replaced with a tired sort of fear that Blitz is all too familiar with, from missions gone wrong and too many close calls, from nightmares and memories and silly accidents on base that shouldn’t be as frightening as walking into a gunfight but somehow are.

When he’s pulled himself together, he squeezes Bandit’s hand again and smiles weakly at him. “You look like shit, by the way,” he says teasingly. “It’s a good job I can’t smell you or I’d probably be in a coma.”

Bandit rolls his eyes and leans forward to rest his elbow on the bed. “I’ll go and shower when they come and do your tests,” he promises. “The nurses here are a bit nervous.”

“They’re probably not usually, you’re just a bit terrifying,” Blitz yawns. “You knocked over a chair, nearly stomped through the floor, and threatened to kill me. Twice. It’s enough to make anyone nervous.”

Bandit rolls his eyes, presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and doesn’t look sorry in the slightest.

[angrylizardjacket]

ask you destiny to dance [7] {Roger Taylor}

[masterpost]

“What did you do? Ash is more pissed at you than usual.” Brian’s looking covertly between Ash wiping glasses at the bar, and Roger, adjusting the height of his high hats a few weeks after he’d confronted her about August. She hadn’t spoken to him directly since then, but the other band members were starting to catch on.

“I didn’t do anything-” Roger tries to protest, but Freddie’s laugh cuts him off.

“He made a comment about Pocket Rocket’s dear friend.” Freddie adds, having adapted to the nickname with ease, an amused smile on his face as he looks at Roger over his shoulder.

“You mean her boyfriend.” Roger snaps, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ash tense at the bar, giving away her eavesdropping, though he didn’t call her out on it.

“Ash isn’t dating that guy, he’s like forty.” Brian laughed, but Roger caught the way Freddie’s expression darkened, though he didn’t dwell on it, and Roger’s own smile became knowing and bitter.

“Yeah, listen Bri, I know what I said.” He responded venomously, and the mood around them sobered considerably. “I don’t like him, okay, he’s too old for her,” after a beat, he wrinkled his nose, “got a dickhead aura.” 

“You’ve met him once.” John points out, trying to lighten the aura. Roger just bristled at the statement.

“Rog is just fond of her,” Freddie cuts in, voice a little condescending, smile mischievous, “let him be jealous, it might take him down a peg or two.”  

“I’m not bloody jealous of that creep!” After a beat of feeling particularly hurt, and Freddie’s commenting hitting a little too close to home, he hears himself lashing out, “And how low do you think my standards really are, Freds?” And that shocked Freddie into silence, eyes wide and disbelieving, his eyebrows raised, as he turned away, jaw clenched.

“You really are just trying to burn that bridge while we’re standing on it, aren’t you?” Brian shook his head, sighing heavily as he went back to his guitar.

“Roger,” John said carefully, coming over to speak quietly to the drummer, as the rest of the band turned away, uncomfortable, “let me get the drinks tonight.” And it’s not what he expected to hear, but when he looks to John, John’s looking over at the bar. Ash is making direct eye contact with him, her customer service smile looking mostly threatening as she keeps polishing the same spot on a glass. “Because that woman is going to spit in all of your drinks and make you watch.” John explains, now looking to Roger, who’s expression was carefully neutral, trying not to betray his own anger at himself. “And as much as I love our dear Pocket Rocket, it’s not something I particularly want.” 

She’s definitely gone back to hating him, and he didn’t realise how much it would hurt. 

The worst part is that she’s so damn happy around everyone else, and he hates himself for being hurt by that. He’s angry, but not at her (never at her, not for something like this) he’s angry because he sees the way she smiles at him from behind the bar, and he sees the way August spends more time looking at the girls in the crowd, though she can’t even tell from where she’s standing. Roger’s angry because she fucking gushes about August - “He’s just made tenure!” - and yet he won’t even touch her if there’s someone else around. He’s livid because she’s so clearly in love with him, but she still can’t bring herself to tell the others his name because she knows - knows - something’s up with August, even if she doesn’t want to admit it, even if the others can’t see it.

Except that’s not the reason she doesn’t say his name.

“He’s here at every show, we should say thank you.” Brian tries after a gig, talking mainly to Roger and John, as Freddie had been giggling with Mary, the two of them in their own little world. Ash is nowhere to be seen. Roger takes another drag of his cigarette.

“Heaps of people are fans of us, it doesn’t mean we have to personally thank them every time.” Roger scoffed, but Brian made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like he disagreed.

“It’s a show of good faith, we should at least shake hands with-” and he paused for a moment, brow furrowing, “what’d she say his name was again?”

“Doctor Reid, if I recall.” John piped up, and Brian shifted his weight, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, but what’s his first name? That sounds so formal, like, ‘Oh, can I grab you a beer Doctor Reid?’” He put on a voice, laughing at his own joke, looking to John, who just shrugged helplessly.

“August.” Roger’s voice is very quiet, hunched in on himself sitting in the back of the van. Brian frowns, leaning in a little, confused as to both how Roger has kept this for so long, and what the name actually was. “His name’s August.” Roger repeated, voice heavy but louder this time. Freddie freezes. “She calls him Gus.” He adds.

“You’re joking, right?” Freddie says into the uncertain silence, and that’s the moment that the back door comes crashing open and Ash comes out, grinning, hands in her pockets.

“Hey guys,” she grinned, nodding at them, not even sparing Roger a glace, “could I have my jacket back? You can drop the pants back tomorrow if you like.” Freddie turns to her, eyes wide, disbelieving smile still frozen almost painfully onto his face, not removing the oversized, blood red velour button down shirt Freddie had been wearing over a black singlet.

“Is that man we keep seeing Gus?” He asked, voice scarily neutral. None of the others had ever heard him like this, had barely heard Freddie genuinely angry like this, and Ash’s expression dropped.

“I’ve gotta go.” It’s not the answer any of them expect, nor is Ash turning on her heel and heading back into the pub before the door had even swung fully shut. Turning back to the band, they could all see that Freddie was livid.

“I’m going to gut the bastard. Gut him like a goddamn fish, I swear I will.” He seethed, hands curling and uncurling into fists, staring at the gravel. It was as if the air around him was snapping with the electricity of a storm. Looking up, all Freddie could see was how shocked the others were, even Roger, and he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to calm down.

“That’s the bastard that ruined her life.” He admitted through clenched teeth. “Roger’s fucking right, the man’s no good.” And Roger couldn’t even take the moment to bask in the vindication that would have usually surged through him at being told he was right, instead, his blood runs cold.

“He what?” Mary asked softly, and Freddie’s expression softened, looking finally between all of them, realising what he’d said.

“He’s the reason she was expelled from her last university, and...” Frowning, Freddie shakes his head. Brian, John, and Mary all took a moment to process this new information, shock written all over their faces. “It’s not my place,” and he started on a new strand of information, “he was her teacher, he started a clandestine affair with her when she started university, and,” pausing again, he sighed, the anger still clearly flowing through him, though it had simmered down to a bitter rage, “not my place.” He repeated. 

“Doesn’t he have a wife and family? How old was she?” Brian asked, a little aghast, and Freddie sighed.

“She was eighteen.” Freddie sighed.

“She was a kid.” Roger breathed, anger bubbling up inside of him.

“Hey, that’s only a year younger than me.” John pointed out, but Roger turned on him.

“Oh, I’m sorry John, are you having an affair with one of your teachers that we need to stage an intervention for?” He snapped, and John’s face fell, and he looked to the ground.

“I’m just saying she was an adult is all, doesn’t make it right, but she can make her own choices.” He paused. “She seems happy.” Both Freddie and Roger deflated at that, they’re all quiet for a long moment, and without a word, Freddie heads inside.

“Ash.” When he says her name, she looks up with an expression that tells him she’s ready to fight.

“He’s different now, Freddie.” She tells him, already defending herself and the man who she knows in her heart probably doesn’t deserve it. Freddie was ready to fight him the moment he heard August’s name, and he didn’t even know the full story. Sure he could gather the impact it had on Ash, but he never really truly realised the effect August had on her.

“What does that mean, Ash? What exactly is keeping me from coming over here and beating him bloody with my microphone next time we play here?” Freddie asked, voice very serious. Pulling off her apron, Ash told Maureen, who had been eavesdropping on the conversation, that she was knocking off for the night, which Maureen agreed to, and Ash walked around the bar and took Freddie’s hand.

“We’re not having this conversation here.” She hissed, pulling him into the staff bathroom and locking it behind them. “I love him.” She said through gritted teeth, crossing her hands over her chest, looking away. “And after everything I did, I think he still loves me too.”

“After everything you- Ash do you hear yourself?” Freddie takes a deep breath, steadying himself, holding her shoulders, “He start an affair with you, his student, refuse to be seen with you in public, and used his power within the faculty to kick you out of school when you wanted to stop-”

“I only wanted to stop because I found out he was engaged when his fiance found out about me!” Ash cried, as if it were somehow her fault. Freddie actually stepped back.

“Found out about you- He was engaged?!” He whispered, eyes wide and horrified. “Darling that’s nowhere near being your fault. He had a whole town calling you a slut and a homewrecker; he didn’t love you, he ran you out of Scotland.” 

“He ran me out of Fife.” She spits back the correction. “I would know, I was there.” But she doesn’t seem to connect to the words he’s saying, it’s as if she’s replayed the events in her head so many times that she’s become desensitised to it. “But he’s changed, I was practically a kid last time, I’m different now too. And if he didn’t love me then,” she looks a little hurt as she says it, and Freddie doesn’t know if he wants to hug her or shake some sense into her, “well I think he does now.” After a beat she ducked her gaze, voice becoming a weary sigh as she leaned against the counter. “Listen, Freds, I’ll keep him out of the bar, you won’t have to see him, but this is my life.”

“Don’t make the same mistake again-”

“He’s told me that Kira’s his ex-fiance, so I don’t think she’ll be a problem.” Ash rolled her eyes at Freddie, who opened his mouth to protest that that wasn’t the point, but she added. “Can you get Roger to shut up? I’m sick of hearing him bitching.” 

“Did something happen between you two?” Is what Freddie finally finds himself asking.

“I could get used to this.” Roger grins at her when she brings him a cup of tea in the warm light of the late morning, a book under one of her arms. She keeps using the mug with the cat faces on it for him, he’s started calling it ‘his mug’ and maybe she’s started calling it that too in her mind.

“Yeah, well don’t. You can get your own tea next time.” Ash laughed, sitting up beside in bed, cradling her own tea in one hand, pulling out the book with the other.

“Just show me where everything is, I think I could manage.” Roger chuckles, putting his free arm around her where she’s sat back against the headboard. “What are you reading?” Looking at him with a little surprise, Ash smiles slightly, taking a big gulp of tea, putting the mostly full cup on the bedside table before tucking herself against him, opening up the book.

“I found it in the common room, it’s one of those trashy romance novels,” after a beat, she closed the book, keeping her place with her finger, showing him the cover, where a woman was posing sensuously with a hand on a beautifully painted horse, “but I think she fucks the horse.” Roger snorts at that, his arm tightening around her just a little.

He doesn’t have an answer, just laughs, reading with her when she opens the book back up. It’s soft and domestic, her head on his chest as they both read the novella, sipping their tea on occasion. The blinds are down, but there’s still stripes of light peeking through, hitting the floor with golden light and the room feels warm and hazy. They stay like that for a long while, Roger actually becomes rather engrossed in the story, and when Ash shifts to lean over and take a sip of her tea, he takes the book to read ahead a few lines. When she turns back, she just watches him for a moment, a fond smile slowly spreading over her face, and when he finally looks up, realised he was caught, she leans forward, pressing a kiss to his lips, sweet, her hand coming up to cup his cheek, and when she pulls back, he’s smiling back at her, a little confused.

“What was that for?” He grinned, and Ash shrugged, ducking her head to hide her blush.

“I dunno, maybe the book got me going.” She lied easily, and Roger’s expression turns a little unreadable, though it’s clear he doesn’t believe her.

“We weren’t even up to the hot part!” He countered, and Ash laughed, taking the book from him, but he stays holding it, lets himself be pulled with it until he’s meeting her for a kiss, his hand on her wrist when he lets go of the book to move up her arm and start sliding off her dressing gown. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Yeah, Ash had thought, I could get used to this.

“Hello, Ash?” In the present, Freddie waves a hand in front of her face. Ash’s expression soured as her chest began to ache.

“No, okay? Nothing happened between us, Freddie. Roger’s just being a bitch.”

the ususal suspects: @deakydickfanpage @hollyissuchahoe  @laueecakee@smittyjaws @crystalshines2909 @i-am-sarah @legendsaresooftenwarnings@2ptonpt @benhardy24-7 @maiilovely @mickey-yr-a-goner @butter-times@heyyouitskay @tired-eyes-fairy-lights​ @yepimthatperson @missieluvsmurder @ironqueen98 @ceruleanrainblues ​ @banhbao329 @fantasticchaoticwho @ko-kitty @seven-seas-of-hi @mimisfangirlfantasy @aadjuric @rogmobile @cardybenhardy

[reallyautomaticvoid]

Calling It: Good Intentions Chapter 3: There’s Tim!

Characters (in order of appearance in this chapter): Conner Kent, Bart Allen, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson

Chapter Summary:

Conner and Bart find Tim.  Or, rather, Tim finds Conner and Bart.

After checking the dozen safe houses that they knew about plus a couple of old ones that Tim had abandoned (shocking an old lady when they burst in through her front door, though they did get pie…) Conner and Bart are out of ideas.

“I’m telling you,” Conner runs to keep up with Bart, “I don’t think he’ll be there.”

“It’s as good as any to regroup,” Bart counters as he punches in the security code.  “Besides, I don’t want to miss Tim’s apartment being this clean.  It might not ever happen again.”

Conner snorts because yeah, Bart has a point.  

Conner follows Bart into the living room.  Conner walks towards the perch’s entrance and stares at it again.  

How bad could the security be?

Conner hesitates for half a second before using his X-ray vision to see through the door into the stare case.  Or trying to use his X-ray vision.  

He couldn’t see anything.  

“Shit, Tim lead lined the goddamn door.”

“Because, of course, he did,” Bart snorts, staring at the door, “that’s our paranoid bird.”

“It’s not paranoia if someone is really after you,” a new, weary voice came from right behind them.  

Jumping, Conner and Bart before turning to see, “Tim!”

It’s something to be said that two of the fastest people in the world couldn’t catch Tim before he collapses onto the couch.  Tattered suit pants and collared, long sleeves hung off of Tim’s frame making him like he’d lost ten pounds.  

Clammy skin?  Check.  At least a half a dozen new scratches, some infected, covering his arms and face?  Check.  Giant fresh gash covering Tim’s forearm?  Check.  

Conner knows there was more but didn't trust himself to use his x-ray vision.  With how shitty Tim looks, literally the last thing Tim needs is for Conner to fuck up and fry him instead of scanning him.  

Instead, Conner gently puts his hand on Tim’s forehead.  

“You look like shit, Tim,” Conner mildly says.  He mouths fever at Bart who nods before running off to get supplies.  “You know, when someone is missing their spleen, normal they do little things like gee, I don’t know, eat.  Sleep.  Take a shower.”

A faint smile twitches on Tim’s face.  “I’ll be sure to let Ra’s know that you’re not interested in his vacation package.  He was so hoping that you'd be going next.”

“You were with Ra?”  Bart reenters the room but freezes at Con’s words.  

The exchange a look; both knew the Demon’s Head has an unhealthy interest (obsession) in Tim.  Tim’s never been keen on sharing the hows and whys of that interest which pisses Conner off to no end.  

“Yup.  Not the best vacation I’ve ever been on but still not the worst.  That still the time that Bruce tried to make us all go on that family retreat when the Demon tried to leave me in the woods to starve.”  Tim’s voice gets higher as he mimics Damian in a dead-on impression.  “But Father, why do we even need Drake here.  I’m here now; you don’t need a cheap replacement.  Grayson, I don’t care if you like him; he’s weak and should be removed.  Fuck, that was a long week.”

Conner and Bart exchange an awshiiiiiit look.  

They know some of the Batfamily drama.  

No, that’s a lie; they knew very, very little about the Batfamily drama.  Tim rarely (if ever) talks about the ins and outs of what actually happened once Damian arrived at the Manner.  All Conner knows for sure was once Damian moved in, Tim had slowly, but surely started spending more time in San Francisco and less and less time in Gotham.  

Fuuuuuuuuck, Tim must really be fuck he’s talking about it so freely.  

Bart grabs the thermometer and gives it to Tim.

Tim makes a face.

Bart arches an eyebrow.  “It’s your mouth, or I’ll find someplace to put it.”  

Tim takes the thermometer, putting it under his tongue.  After thirty seconds, it beeps with a temperature of 101°.  Bart and Conner exchange a knowing look.

“Oh, don’t look at each other like that,” Tim moans.  “I’m fine.  I just need a little sleep.”

Conner snorts.  “No doubt, but let’s get you something to drink first, okay?  When was the last time you ate?”

“Had a salad with Tam,” Tim grunt.  

“Salad doesn’t count.  When was the last time you had real food?”

“Salad does so count.  It had chicken on it and everything.”  Tim whines as he rolls over and shoves his face into the back of the couch. “Sleep.”  

Conner looks at Bart who mouths fuck.

Little known Titan lore: if Tim Drake whines about wanting to sleep, it means some shit has gone down.

“Man, you really gotta learn how to take care of yourself.”  

“I’ll be sure to let Ra’s know you don’t approve of his solitary confinement package.”

Conner files that away for future discussion (which Conner’s sure won’t get him anywhere) before hoisting Tim up bridal style.  “Come on, man.  Let’s get you some food.  Can’t take your antibiotics on an empty stomach.”

Tim hisses.  “I hate those things.  They always make me nausea.”  

Bart shakes his head, muttering, “sure it's not the whole not eating anything for a week things?”

Tim’s head lulls back to glare at Bart.  “Nope.  Defiantly the antibiotic.”

Conner doesn’t say anything, as he’s too busy trying not to laugh.  Or cry.  He isn’t sure which.  

“Here you go,” Conner deposits Tim at the table where Tim slumps, face first, into the table.  “What do you want—uh, what do you have to eat?”

“Coffee.”

Bart snorts.  “One, that’s a drink, not a food.  Two, you know the rules: no caffeine on an empty stomach.”  Bart zips around the kitchen opening cabinets, looking for food.  He finally ends at the empty fridge.  “Power bars, energy drinks, and coffee?  Really Tim?  That’s all you have in your kitchen?  Even I can’t make something out of that.  More importantly, how are you alive if that’s all you eat in Gotham?  How have you not had a heart attack?”

Bart’s— the best chef among the Titans—could do wonders in the kitchen. Conner once saw Bart make a mouthwatering casserole out of an orange, licorice, tofu, and a few other ingredients that Conner missed.  As Bart put it, “if you had to eat twenty thousand calories a day, you’d get good at cooking too.”  

“Coffee,” Tim stubbornly repeats.

Rolling his eyes, Bart says,  “I’ll be back,” before zooming out of the room without another word.  

Conner goes over to the cabinet that holds some of Tim’s emergency shits hit the fan supplies including bags of saline solution and an IV.  Tim eyes Conner as he moves around but doesn’t object when Conner gently put the IV needle into Tim’s arm.  Although, Conner isn’t sure that Tim has the energy to object to anything that the Meta might do to him.  Conner sits down, watching the IV drip.  Tim closes his eyes; head resting on the table.  

“You want to talk about it?”  Conner murmurs.

“No.”  It’s the strongest thing Conner’s heard Tim say since Tim had stumbled back into his apartment, so Conner doesn’t argue.

After about ten minutes, Bart comes charging back in.  “You know, fast food places really aren’t that fast.  It took them FOREVER to get the food done.”

Conner snorts, “I’m surprised you didn’t go behind the counter and make it yourself.”

Bart tosses Conner a burger before handing Tim some plain toast.  “Thought about it.  Decided that it would probably just draw too much attention to myself.” 

“You guys know I’m off of carbs.”  Tim groans.

“Shut up and eat your toast or I’m calling Cassie.”  

Tim flinches but starts nibbling at his toast.  “I still want some coffee.”

After a long talk with Roy, who didn’t believe that Jason was okay which he was, Jason’s suiting up for the night when he feels his phone vibrate.  Fishing it out of his pocket, the new text alert flashes from an unknown number.  Jason opens it and read:

Got Tim.  Heading back to the Tower.

Jason blinks, a knot that he hadn’t known was in his lower gut loosens, before he fumbles with his phone for a minute, trying to figure out what to write (things ranging from where the hell was he to get his ass to the cave now all floated through his head) before finally settled on:

Is he okay? 

Jason had finished zipping up his jacket (contemplating the best way to go and find those ‘heroes’) when his phone went off again.  

He says we’re inhuman because we won’t give him coffee.  See you around. 

Jason punches the front of his locker.  

Luckily, it didn’t dent; otherwise, he’d have to deal with disappointed Alfred sighs for the next month.  He didn’t like being brushed off especially by a couple of pip-squeaks.  

Jason’s Robin Sense went off before he saw anything.  “The fuck you want?”

Dick appears right next to him because fuck him Dick had been goddamn Batman.  

“What happened to your phone?”

Because shit he’s still clutching his cracked screen phone in his hand.  

Jason glares at Dick.  “Nothing.”

 Dick hums. “Okay.  You seemed distracted.  Everything okay?”

Jason slams his locker shut.  “I’m fine.”  

Dick gives Jason a smile that only an older sibling can. 

Fucking hell, why is Jason here again?

Alfred’s food.  

Right. 

Fucking hell, say it already.

“I was just thinkin’ about Babybird.”  

That got Dick’s attention.  

Jason grins to himself.  

“Why were you thinking about him?” Dick nonchalantly asks which he mighta bought if Jason couldn’t see Dick’s back stiffening and his muscles were twitching.

“Just trying to remember the last time I saw ‘em in the cave is all.”  

Jason isn’t one for sublet.  

It takes for fuck ever for someone (cough, cough, Dick…Bruce) ta realize the fucking point you’re trying to make.  

It’s much more satisfying when you could smack someone in the face with their stupidity.  

Preferable with a fist.

The Bats, however, like to believe that they were fucking perfect (especially Dick, especially in the brother department).  They didn’t take it so well when they get caught being stupid.

Dick, for his part, gives Jason a look like Dick clearly question if Jason’s lost his mind.  “What are you talking about, Jay?  He was just here last week.  He ran a virus sweep on the Batcomputer.”  

Jason had to fight the urge to smack Dick.

Repeatedly.

With his fist. 

Instead, he cocks an eyebrow at his brother.  “That was six months ago.”

The reaction is instant.  Dick recoils like Jason had punched him.  He stares at Jason for a full minute before slowly shaking his head.  Though it looked like there're ‘bout a billion thoughts flashing behind Dick’s eyes.

“What?  No, it wasn’t.  It was last week,” Dick insists, his voice rising.  “Do you honestly think that I haven’t seen my brother in more than six months?  I would have noticed not seeing him for that long.”

Jason pauses, giving Dick one of his patented, you’re full of shit but whatever you need to do to let you sleep at night looks before raising his hands.  

“Sure, Big Bird.  Whatever helps you sleep at night.”  

Opening his locker, Jason looks for his rubber bullets.  

Where the fuck are my motherfucking rubber bullets?  

Days like today make him reconsider rejoining the Bats.  Before all Jay had to do was shoot the asshole and move on.  

Now, he has play nice with the Bats.  

Some days, Jason wonders if it was worth it.  

Then Alfred makes Jason’s favorite dessert, or Bruce would give him one of those goddamn almost smiles (which was like a goddamn hug from the old grump), and Jason found himself coming back home.  

Home.  Jason mused to himself.  

It’s weird after all of these years to have a place that he’d consider a home.

“Jason?” Dick's voice sounds off.  

“Yo,” Jason grunts without looking at Dick.  

There was a pause.  

Dick shifted uncomfortably as Jason finally found his bullets.  

Damnit, Damian must have gotten into his locker again and moved shit around just ta fuck with Jason. 

Again.

Maybe it was time for Jason to teach Titus how delicious Damian’s slippers were.

“Has he really not—did I miss—er—never mind.”  

Jason looks up in time to catch a glimpse of Dick disappearance (showoff) before Jason he could say anything.

The next morning in Red Robin’s room at the Tower, Tim’s fever’s back down to normal.  He was still coughing but he fine.  

Really, he doesn’t understand why Bart and Conner are hovering.  He’s in bed just like they want him to be.  

Snug as a goddamn bug.  

It’s Hell.

Tim does, however, have a company to run and needs to catch up.

“Don’t you have school,” Tim coughs.  

“Flex day,” Conner answers while Bart nods along.

Damn.  Tim thinks.  “Why don’t you guys go catch a movie or something?”  

Conner’s lip twitch and Bart gets a glint in his eye.

Shit.

“A movie does sound like fun.”  Bart turns to Conner, “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Marathon?”

“Marathon.”

“Good, bad, or terrible movies?”

“Mix, of course.”

“Perfect.”

“Food?”

Bart drums his thumbs Tim’s desk.  “Give me half an hour.”  And Bart dashes off.

Tim looks up at Con.  “Do I get a vote in this?”

“Nope,” Con pop the p.

“Fantastic.  I do have work to get done.”

“You were kidnapped and torched.  You can take the day off.”

“Red Robin, maybe, but Tim Wayne?  Didn’t you hear?  He just got back from a lovely whirlwind vacation.”

Conner rolls his eyes.  “Really now?  Were there any hot models there?”

“Not a one sadly.  There was some lovely time to meditate though.”

“Don’t they call that solitary confinement?”

Tim shrugs, “eh, if life gives you lemons.”

“You say ‘what the hell?  I ordered oranges.’”  Con smirks.

Tim rolls his eyes.  “Well, I did order oranges.”  Tim laughs which was a mistake because it set off another round of coughing.  Before he could ask, Conner was handing him a glass of water.  Tim grimaces.  “Coffee would be better.”

“You know the rules:  No coffee for twenty-four hours after a fever spike.”

Tim hisses.  “It was only 101.  That’s barely a fever.”

Conner looks utterly unmoved by this argument.

Bastard.

“Close enough.”

“I’m a mature twenty.  I can take care of myself.”

“Uhuh.  And what show did you leave as a parting gift to Ra’s?”

“Teletubbies,” Tim grins.  Not his new business-friendly smile but a real grin that let the former Robin shin through.  “I thought he’d enjoy it.  Plus he could use a refresher on how sharing is caring.”

Con laughs at that before sobering.  “You know, I was thinking,” Tim internal winces, but keeps his face smooth.  He knew this was coming but it did make the experience any more enjoyable, “maybe it’s time you move out of Gotham?  You could move to the tower full time or something.”

Tim keeps his expression smooth.  “Aren’t you the one who’s always nagging me to get out of the tower?”

Con glowers at him.  “To see a movie, take a walk in the park, go on a date.  Not to go back to one of the most crime-ridden cities in the world.  Hell, in the universe.”  Con took a deep calming breath.

Tim thinks about it.  He really thinks about it.   He considers moving out of Gotham permanently.  What would the ramification of leaving the city that's rejected him several times over?  And while the idea is tempting, to be free of the Bats (fuck yeah that’s an excellent thought now, isn’t?), of all of the baggage that came with Gotham, but—

“It’s home, Con.  I’m—I’m not ready to leave it yet.”  Tim’s voice sounds young, even to his ears.

Con sighs.  “Yeah, that’s what you always say.  Had to ask though.  I think you should still move though.  Ra’s knowing—” Tim cuts him off with a snort.

“Ra’s make it a point to know what laundry soap I use.  Hell, he makes it a point to know what kind of cough drops I take.  He’ll know if I move.  Might as well stay where I’m at for now.”  

The rest of the argument is cut short by Bart reentering the room carrying way, way too much food.  Bart then speeds back out of the room only to reappear in a blink of an eye with a rather large stack of movies.  

Tim stares at the pile.  

No way they’re getting through that stack in one day.

Bloody hell.

Thanks for reading!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18106355/chapters/43592294

[karmanticmoved]

1-85 uwu

j esus okay

1. describe yourself.

uh,, emotional ig, dumbass, quiet, exhausted all of the time, v queer, healthy mix of feminine and masculine, insecure, and not tha t great tbh. kinda a pussy ass b itch

2. if you could go anywhere for a week all expenses paid where would it be?

idrk. maybe somewhere like a hella nice beach in another country, maybe somewhere in europe. i like travelling but i hate the travel to get there and have no money so i havent put thought into it. maybe hawaii or somewhere like that.

3. do you have siblings?

the one thats still alive is my half brother

4. what is your favorite constellation, why?

orion maybe bc i don't know a lot but i can see that one from my bedroom window even in the city n idk. its comforting. or scorpius cause i'm a scorpio

5. favorite color.

yellow, pink, or blue.

6. what kind of music do you listen to?

almost anything. whatever catches my interest.

7. favorite flower. (you can name as many as you want cause flowers are awesome)

forgot what i said last time but those

yellow carnations i think?

8. if you could do magic, what is the first spell you would learn?

maybe smth to put myself to sleep immediately bc f uCk

9. favorite childhood memory.

my summer camp memories are pretty great. also memories of my dad and i going fishing are good.

10. have you ever been cheated on?

i mean in theory i couldve been bc online relationships but no. n im polyam and have identified as such for a majority of my relationships so no.

11. if you could describe your perfect room, what would it be?

big but not too big, yknow? like big enough that it can be filled and have room to walk around and lay on the ground or whatever but not Empty. and a pretty big bed to stretch out on, n a closet in the room. multiple windows w blackout curtains so theres light but it can be blocked out. n fluffy rugs or carpeting but preferably rugs in case smth spills so we can get it out of at least Remove the rug. and probably a cat tree thing in corner for dipper. n a computer desk and actual lights that light up the whole room. but probably,, fairy lights too bc full lights too bright. and i kinda want a pink room but blue or yellow work also. a nd pride flags on the walls + posters and various other stuff bc plain walls are boring. and tons n tons of b ooks too.

12. favorite animal.

river otter

13. what was the last photo you took of?

cat

14. do you believe in soul mates?

i'm not sure. i do kinda think there are people who you will like. really really click with and who become so important in your life that they're like. apart of u yknow? but i don't think that anyone as an individual needs to keep those people in their life forever. they arent destined to stay with them, and they shouldnt force that relationship (platonic, familial, romantic, or whatever) even if they were close for years and years. screw destiny. youll have people you care about, and sometimes you have to break that bond to save yourself, and thats okay. there will be other people who can and will be just as important. that got kinda off topic skbsks. i don't think theres really like Destiny soulmates. but there could be like. soulmates in the sense of for however long we're together, we're soul bonded. even if its not forever. does that even make se nse skbsns

15. do you hang toilet paper over or under?

over is the one thats socially acceptable right

16. your go to place to eat & your favorite thing to get there.

idk theres a place near a movie theater closeish to my house and its a nice little cafe and i dont eat there bc i dont eat much in general but i get their bubble tea and i love. raspberry bubble tea w rose popping bubbles. its comfort drink.

17. do you believe everything happens for a reason?

no. sometimes shit happens for no reason, and its bullshit, but you can't reverse it, so you gotta figure out how to move on from it.

18. guilty pressures?

im assuming thats meant to be pleasures

umm,, idrk. i don't know what exactly i like that would count as a guilty pleasure so,,

19. favorite mythical creature, why?

merpeople are s o cool i fuckin. love funky aquatic pals hell yeah. maybe im just Water babey but. they're rad. dragons are also hella cool bc like dragons???? theyre scaly and prett y and can breathe fire or have wings and kill u?? also like selkies bc again. water. but i used to hear a lot of stories abt them and theyre so nea t

20. something most people don’t know about you.

i have the potential to be a huge asshole and also kinda Wish to fuckin murder someone sometimes but. i act nice most of the time anyway.

not murder murder but i can get angr y enough that i just wanna Stab smth

21. where did you grow up, what was it like?

grew up kinda near the edge of the city, still in it but not like the main city area. in western washington. it was kinda rly boring, i used to spend a lot more time outside or just by myself playing with leaves or toys or whatever. when i had friends i played make believe w them even when outside of school. so yeah. boring id say.

22. do you believe aliens exist?

sure.

23. what was your last google search?

other than names for some actors n stuff, i was looking up various star wars things

24. what did your last relationship teach you?

the one that like. ended? i guess thatd be. be careful with your own feelings and try to figure them out before jumping into anything, and also don't try to force smth that in reality isnt really working.

25. would you relocate for love?

honestly yeah

26. do you hold grudges or forgive easy?

both. it just depends on how badly i or someone i care about was hurt by it. more likely to hold a grudge if a friend was hurt by someone d eep enough to leave a lasting impact or if they don't get a genuine apology i will be 🔫🔫. or if the person keeps hurting them. even if that person is also my friend.

27. favorite book.

favorite graphic novel is bloom by kevin panetta

favorite books in general are autoboyography, more happy than not, and what if its us. all gay. i know. its okay. im a kinnie.

28. do you consider yourself an extrovert or introvert?

introvert by far

29. have you ever kept a journal, do you now?

i tried once. i probably will have to once i go see a therapist, or at least one for my Bad Thoughts

30. top 5 favorite movies.

in no particular order

little shop of horrors, love simon, coco, it (2017 and 1990), and shazam! ig? maybe others but i definitely Forgot all the shit ive watched

31. do you believe that everything happens for a reason?

no

32. what is your greatest fear?

definitely gotta be all of the people i love hating me and abandoning me or secretly hating me and then leaving me without saying anything. and the worst part is im always afraid its gonna happen babeyy

33. favorite alcoholic beverage.

im baby

34. most embarrassing thing you’ve done.

im embarrassed by my own existence. i don't remember the Most embarrassing thing

35. do you believe in ghosts?

not until i have proof that i can actually trust and believe in

36. what is the best and worst part of your personality?

idk ig im nice. but im also. very easily set off on certain emotions especially the bad ones which sucks like especially jealousy bc i dont wanna!! feel jealous!! tho i think that ties into my greatest fear bc my brain immediately tells me im useless to everyone and they hate me. but. sometimes i get jealous and then feel bad for that and then hate myself for all of it. bc my friends deserve to hang out w other people and care about other people im just fucking stupid babey !!

37. should you split the dinner bill?

i rly don't get why you wouldnt tbh like if u both wanna be there u should both pay. but if one person gonna pay it should be the person that asked.

38. are you a good liar?

most of the time. when it comes to my mental health i can either lie great or im literally breaking down in front of the person so

39. what keeps you up at night?

depressing thoughts. anxiety about everything. wishing i could cuddle and fall asleep w jay. sometimes i just cant sleep bc im too restless.

40. would you rather go without your phone or music?

music. i need my phone to text my friends and i Need my friends

41. do you believe in god?

what god would let the world get to the point its at. what god would allow people to do such fucked up shit.

no. i don't.

42. how do you relax when frustrated?

cry, take a nap, take a shower, listen to music, cuddle dipper

43. what’s something that offends you?

when people go "oh yeah i support gay rights but im still gonna eat at chick fil a bc its good" like i get so fucking. pissed off by that. youre not gonna fucking s ta rv e without their goddamn chicken. i know a bi person who goes there and says its okay bc they dont Directly Give Their money to Specifically anti gay organisations but im just. ugh. fucking pissed bc there are other places to get food just avoid the one place for fucks sake. their food is good it doesnt matter. its like saying yeah pewdiepie is a bad person and nazi and a racist asshole but his videos r funni haha so im gonna watch him anyway

44. favorite food

i hate myself whenever i eat food

45. if you were on a 10 hour flight and could sit and talk to any person the entire time, who would it be?

@destinedformuchmore or @pinaplelee

46. when do you feel the most confident?

never? but ig i feel confident when working on tech construction during theater tech. as long as i know what im doing.

47. what do you do in your free time?

sleep. draw. cry. play video games. talk to my friends.

48. is there anyone who has completely lost your respect

matpat did for being a dick abt neopronouns and making a transphobic joke and only apologizing when a cis person told him to. not when hundreds of trans people did. and also other jokes that are inherently offensive to various groups. a n d for making extremely not Child friendly jokes in his videos which are very much targeted towards kids. say what you will about the target audience, there are a lot of children who watch them. please stop making creepy nsfw jokes if you won't even swear, sir.

49. have you ever broken someone’s heart?

i guess so yeah. but she also broke mine first.

50. did/do you play sports in school?

i did. i don't anymore bc highschool sports are bullshit but. basketball, ultimate, and soccer.

51. when are you happiest?

talkin 2 jay prolly

52. coffee or tea?

tea

53. what is one possession you own you wouldn’t want to live without?

my binder. or my stuffed cat puppet thing ive had since i was 7

54. what is the first thing you notice about a person?

their general emotions, mostly. like if theyre in a good mood or if theyre bored or distracted or whatever. or if they seem interested in actually talking to me

55. what is your favorite season, why?

fall. my birthday, the atmosphere is nice, it's pretty, its hoodie weather.

56. what makes you laugh?

stupid little comments or jokes my friends make tend to make me laugh a lot harder than i should but jabdn

57. are you a clean or messy person?

a mix. i Cannot have some things messy or i will ksjqkd. Die but i don't make my bed too often bc its ha rd when its against 3 walls.

58. what is important for a successful relationship?

communication communication communicati

talk about ur goddamn problems n keep talking to each other.

59. what was your upcoming like?

if thats supposed to be upbringing

idk, very relaxed. pretty easygoing and kinda boring.

60. favorite holiday?

any holiday in december rly. i don't celebrate a Lot but the atmosphere and others celebrating is nice to see. i kinda wish my parents did more to embrace the jewish part in our family blike. whatever. christmas is fun.

61. what is the first thing you’d do if you won the lottery?

give half of it to my parents. and then probably use it for plane ticket

62. what’s the best pizza topping combination?

hawaiian pizza. pinapple n canadian bacon ty

63. favorite outdoor activity.

frisbee

64. how are you? honestly.

not great. i want highschool to end.

65. would you rather go camping in the woods or stay at a beach resort?

idk. camping is fun but if i get to stay at the resort for free i would rly love 2 stay at a resort tbh ive never done that

66. what is the most beautiful thing in nature?

waterfalls. or rivers or just. water in nature. and very green forests. aNd snow.

67. favorite type of candy?

none

68. if your life was a book, what would be the title?

i can and will do arson, an autobiography

69. what movie quotes do you use of a regular bases?

i quote john mulaney and whatever my obsessions are pretty regularly

70. what was cool when you were young but not cool now?

silly bandz. pokemon cards. these weird unicorn figures i collected

71. what’s the craziest conversation you have ever eves dropped on?

im mostly the one having the weird conversations

72. what’s the most interesting documentary you’ve ever watched?

i watched one about dogs and cats and their evolution which was lit

73. what’s the worst hairstyle you’ve had?

when i let the lady just go fuckin ham on my hair bc i was watching spirit that horse movie and didnt wanna stop so it was. rly bad bangs and hella short in back but not the sides

74. what do you like to cook?

whatever im hungry for. i don't have the energy to cook a lot

75. what’s the coolest animal you’ve seen in the wild?

really pretty tropical fish

76. what’s the funniest tv show you’ve ever seen?

idk. i rly like schitts creek its pretty amusing

77. do you usually follow your heart or your head?

heart at first but my head if things get bad

78. what is your favorite quote?

"i have a splitting headache and i think i'm dying. how are you?"

or a character just saying "try harder" when another failed to do smth.

this is supposed to be deep or whatever but im in a Mood

79. what’s the weirdest crush you have ever had?

once had a crush on a character in a minecraft parody lmao

80. what’s your love language?

sending shit that makes me think of them. n just. making tons of stuff for them both online and irl like bracelets.

81. do you ever feel alone?

oh yeah. all the time. im not but it feels like i am which sucks

82. ever been bullied?

yeah

83. are you usually early or late?

late bc of my parents rip

84. what kind of art do you enjoy most?

drawing, or writing. also theater.

85. what do you wish you knew more about?

i just wish i could remember everything ive learned more about. i know a lot i just forget all.

id like to know more about forensics tho

[jongdaeslut]

netflix and chill

pairing: baekhyun/chanyeol

rating: mature - it’s a blowjob, my dudes.

summary: chanyeol's content to sit on his new, super comfy (or semi-comfy, if you're a downer like kyungsoo is) couch and enjoy a movie. baekhyun has other plans.

notes: 1 - i wrote this three years ago to fill a prompt (rip exo prompt meme u’ll be in my heart forever) and i have it posted on ao3, but i’m putting it here too bc... quite frankly i need a test fic for blog formatting that’s not Completely Horrifying.

2 - ksoo does not appear in this fic for even one goddamn second

they’re about a third of the way through saw iv when it happens.

“so,” baekhyun says nonchalantly, as if he was talking about the weather, or what he’d had for lunch that day, “i think i might be gay.”

“okay,” chanyeol says, eyes trained on the screen of his piece of shit laptop. “that’s nice.”

it wasn’t that chanyeol didn’t give a shit about his best friend’s sexuality. rather than that, he just found it hard to be surprised by it when he’d already caught him staring at that one freshman’s ass, like, a billion times already.

(he does wushu, baekhyun had sniffed when chanyeol brought it up one time. anyone would stare).

he’d also walked in on his best friend making out with the assistant captain of the basketball team once, but that was neither here nor there.

so baekhyun’s abrupt declaration of his sexuality doesn’t exactly come as a huge shock. but what falls out of his best friend’s mouth next really, really does.

“i think you should let me suck your cock to find out,” he says, and it’s so matter-of-fact that it takes chanyeol a whole eight seconds to register exactly what he’d heard.

“uh,” chanyeol replies intelligently, eyes flicking back and forth between the screen and his best friend’s face, “um.”

“come on,” baekhyun urges him, “you know i’d let you do the same to me if you asked. best bros forever, right?”

well. now chanyeol simply can’t refuse because really, what kind of person would deny their very best bro in the whole entire world the chance to explore their sexuality? not park chanyeol, that’s for sure.

so after a moment’s hesitation, he says, “alright.”

whatever, he thinks to himself as baekhyun lifts himself off the couch and places himself on the floor between chanyeol’s knees. sure, it’s by a dude, and sure, if things get awkward after this it could mean the end of their friendship (well, maybe not that, because baekhyun is the literally least shameless person chanyeol has ever met) - worst case scenario, he’s still getting his dick sucked.

“can you, like, maybe pull your pants down so i can actually get to your dick?" baekhyun says, impatient as always.

chanyeol grumbles in response as he tugs his pants over his hips and down his thighs. "i try to be nice, and this is what i get in return."

baekhyun rolls his eyes. "don't act like you're the one doing me a favor when i’m the one who's about to blow you," he says primly.

"i am the one doing you a favor," complains chanyeol, "i said netflix and chill, not netflix and suck my dick."

"oh, stop whining, you baby," baekhyun says, and then he wraps his mouth around the head of chanyeol's cock and oh, maybe it's baekhyun who's the one doing the favor after all.

"okay," chanyeol says breathlessly, long fingers tangling in baekhyun's hair as the smaller boy's mouth sinks down around his cock, "alright, there is no way you haven't done this before."

baekhyun’s mouth pops off his dick to give him lip. “i never said i hadn’t,” he tells him matter-of-factly.

“i thought you said this was to find out if you’re into dudes!” chanyeol complains, but he doesn’t really give a shit if baekhyun makes the effort to explain himself. part of it’s because he’s pretty sure baekhyun’s already figured out that he’s into dudes on his own, but mostly he just wants his best friend’s pretty (yes, pretty - chanyeol may be straight, but he knows pretty when he sees it, okay?!) mouth back around his cock.

thankfully, baekhyun doesn’t seemed particularly inclined to answer. “who cares?” he responds, sounding mildly irritated. “just shut up and let me suck your dick in peace. or don’t shut up, whatever. be as loud as you want, just stop fucking talking already.”

chanyeol opens his mouth in ready assent, but then baekhyun’s tongue is flicking along the underside of his dick from the shaft to the head, and what comes out instead of words is a garbled mess of sound. he swears he can almost feel the corners of his best friend’s lips curl up in satisfaction.

but then he thinks he hears a zipper being pulled down, and then he’s positive because baekhyun lets out a moan that vibrates through his entire cock. he looks down, and sure enough, baekhyun has a hand wrapped around his own erection and is stroking it firmly. which would be fine, really, but his dick is pointing in the direction of his couch, and he only bought this couch a couple of weeks ago, dammit!

“dude,” chanyeol says, but it’s really only kind of a word and mostly just a groan of pleasure because baekhyun’s mouth feels like heaven.

baekhyun doesn’t bother responding this time, just looks up at chanyeol from his position on the floor, half-lidded eyes gazing up at him through dark lashes, and it’s honestly a way more erotic than chanyeol had bargained for. for a moment, he’s almost entranced, and then baekhyun moans around his cock again and chanyeol’s brought back to reality because as good as this feels, the concept of cleaning his best friend’s spunk off of his favorite piece of furniture isn’t exactly appealing.

“baek, could you, like - fuck -” baekhyun’s tongue dips into the tip of chanyeol’s dick, and it’s more than a little distracting. “i dunno, jack off in a different direction so you don’t - don’t get cum on my couch? please?”

he’s not sure whether or not baekhyun is too caught up in giving head to register what he’s been asked to do or is just plain ignoring him, because he scoots in even closer to the couch and grips the base of chanyeol’s cock with his free hand, sucking at the head with a little more fire than he had been before.

“or you could just - okay,” chanyeol surrenders, allowing his head to loll back in pleasure, “that’s cool too, i guess.”

chanyeol’s whether it’s talent or experience that baekhyun has a lot of, but he figures it doesn’t matter too much, because his mouth is hot and wet and his tongue is nimble and his hand is just tight enough around chanyeol’s cock that he feels like he could go insane, even though he knows he won’t. of course, baekhyun chooses that moment to revisit the whole ‘hey, let’s tongue the underside of chanyeol’s dick!’ plan, and chanyeol decides that no, actually, he’s losing his mind really fucking quickly, especially as he feels his balls tighten, and oh, shit -

“baek,” he gasps out, “baek, i’m gonna nut, fuck!”

he almost expects baekhyun to pull off and finish him with his hand (although he wouldn’t put it past him not to help him cum at all), but instead he lets go of chanyeol’s cock so he can take him all the way into his mouth, to the back of his throat, even, and chanyeol sees that baekhyun’s nose pressed up against his crotch before everything goes white and he cums deep down baekhyun’s throat.

chanyeol falls back against the couch, dazed, and baekhyun takes the opportunity to finish himself with a high-pitched moan. sure enough, it splatters all over the couch, milky white stark against the black of the fabric.

a few moments later, chanyeol catches his breath enough to complain. “what a fucking mess,” he says, “i hope you know i’m not cleaning up your jizz.”

“fucking ungrateful,” baekhyun says, sniffing delicately. it doesn’t suit his actual personality at all, but chanyeol decides to hold his tongue on that one. “i do all that work blowing you, and all you can think about is me getting semen on your couch. which, by the way, is a noble sacrifice considering how much you seemed to enjoy it!”

“it’s brand new!” chanyeol whines, “and it’s leather!”

his best friend scoffs at him in response. “you bought it used, and it’s pleather,” baekhyun tells him flatly. “i think it’ll be alright.”

chanyeol pouts at him. “you’ll understand when you have your first child.”

“unbelievable,” baekhyun shakes his head, “it’s a fucking couch, chanyeol. a couch.”

in the end, though, chanyeol’s the one cleaning up baekhyun’s mess with a damp paper towel and a surprising lack of complaints.

they settle back into the couch to finally finish the movie, and there’s a small calm before chanyeol speaks again.

“baek,” chanyeol says, “i think i might be gay. or bi. or at least, like.. not completely straight.”

baekhyun flutters his eyelashes and tilts his head mischievously. “care to blow me and find out?”

chanyeol gives his answer by forcefully chucking a pillow at baekhyun’s head.

[legisaskerator]

vent vent vent

buckle up bastards this is gonna be long as FUCK

holy fucking shit my life yhas been so goddamn hard recently and i’m not handling it well

first and foremost on my mind at this second is the fact that i am in so much fucking pain right now i do not know what to do. my EDS is acting up really really badly and i’m super bedridden right now. i took my last vicodin and i have no idea when i can get more, or how, and i have like nothing to help. i had to leave class today to weep in the fuckin bathroom because i can barely walk and even sitting up is a struggle. if i felt this sort of pain three years ago i would have likely considered doing something VERY rash to stop it and i’m amazed i’m still, almost functioning. i can barely think i’m in agony i want it to end

i’m so scared this is just the next turn that eds is taking. i know i wont ever get better but fuck, i dont want to need a mobility aid yet. i’m only fucking 22 i have to be a teacher!!! how can i fucking teach if i cant write on a board?? or maneuver around classrooms? how will i ever get a job? or even just. live in the house of my dreams. i wish there was some help for me because i am tired of ehlers danlos running my life. i am scared for my future. i cant imagine who i will become if this level of pain becomes my “normal”. someone move me to mass so i can get legal weed to try to numb myself

on the same path of injury, my mother recently injured herself very badly and was hospitalized for a little w hile. ended up needing surgery to put rods and screws and plates in her leg/ankle, and as a result, she’s not functioning for the next 12 weeks. i’m doing my best to help out aroudn the house and i’m filling in for her at work. she does advertising for a newspaper and brings the papers to subscribing businesses,, which i’m taking over now. at least i like driving?

i love my mom and i will do anythign to help her, but god it’s such a load on my shoulders. i’m  upset and frustrated because i’m strugtgling to balance my life around this sudden responsibility. it’s definitely not her i’m upset about, it’s not like she did this purposefully??? she needs the help and i am willing to give it. but i am also allowed to feel these emotions. i am upset at the /situation/. her boyf and my sister are barely helping and they’re neglectful and distant. i’m the only emotionally present one in the family and also (aside from mom) am the only nurturing, caring one in the household. i keep her from having panic attacks, i keep her anxiety down, i’m warm and i try so goddamn hard to make sure shes ok. but it’s exhausting. i’m keeping my family together it feels like, everythings crashing down and i’m the only “sane” one. which is sad because ive been a depressed wreck for weeks and have been working on scraping myself off the fucking pavement, trying to get out of the spiral. i’m scared that my mom relies so much on me. she tells me everything, things i don’t want to hear. relationship troubles primarily. i know i give great advice and am ~wise beyond my years~ (thanks trauma) but, that’s what her therapist is for. i’ve told her i wish she would, tell me less, because as her daughter it’s uncomfortable, and she always overreacts like “oh i’ll never tel you anything again if it’s so terrible then” and i end up feeling fucking awful, and it’s a nightmare. but if things keep going the way they are in their relationship (i’m not gonna spill deets because, privacy still) we might lose our house!!! and everything we’ve finally worked for!!

so i feel like, if i can’t fix this problem, it’ll be my fault our lives come crashing down.

i know that’s ridiculous. it’s not my job. 

but it still feels like it

i never feel like i’m doing enough. just in life in general. i’m not good enough i’m not working hard enough i just am not enough. i was very saturated with child prodigy shit when i was younger and that fucked up my psyche so much. it’s still thrown at me by my father, americas got talent and movies where the protag is a ~genius~. i hate it. ill never be that and i know that’s what my dad wants of me. i’m not the next bill gates i just want to be a teacher and live my life!!!! i don’t want to start a band and get famous!!!! i dont want to run a business!! i don’t want to revolutionize the world!! just let me please! follow my heart!!!!!! i can’t fucking stand it when he tries to tell me what to do with my life it makes me want to scream and wail and sjafkl; fd fjasfg;akldf

i can’t do this, man. 

i’m so alone. i’m sick of the slut life. i’ve been hoeing around for a year and it’s taking a massive toll on my self esteem and sanity. i’s a terrible coping mechanism and i’m very very not healthy about it. i only have sex when i’m heavily under the influence of something and use it as a way of getting attention, which is, awful. i often forgo protection because it’s ~inconvenient~ and the second a guy protests, i’ll cave because i ~live to please~ and don’t want to start shit. i can’t keep doing this. hooking up is the only time people ever touch me. i just want a fuckign hug sometimes

i keep seeing so many posts like “you can’t love another if you don’t love yoursel!” and “people aren’t your medicine” but what if??? they can be to an extent?? part of being uber depressed is self-isolation and i’m so, sick of it. i need some fucking comfort because right now i am suffering through my life alone and it’s so difficult. it’s not as easy as just, settling though. i’m picky with my lovers because?? i deserve someone good? everyone that’s been coming through my life like, has a fatal flaw that i just can’t do. like long term compatability is risked for me with that shit.like, too introverted, too emotionally distant, people who just aren’t smart, i can’t do it?? i just want someone who’s going to comfort me when i need it, who i can have a healthy debate with, and someone who respects my life choices and things i do. 

i’ve been talking to one guy recently who, i was hoping maybe could have been a potential. he’s super nice and considerate/respectful, hes HELLA smart, adores a bunch of the same stuff i’m into, we talk really well together, i feel comfortabgle around him, gotta say he’s hot as fuck too...and he just wants friends with benefits. I respect that. i was in a similar spot literally last semester, there was a pretty great guy but i just wasn’t in the right space for a relationship. so friends with benefits. i don’t blame this new guy for not wanting a relationship he has every right!! but oh god it hurts a little. i worry that it’s me, that i’m just a good pussy for him, or a convenient lay who’s down to clown like 99% of the time. he’s been talking to me less recently and i’m worried that he’s...done with me. idk if that’s true or if i’m just reading into it but i’m in a VERY vulnerable place right now in my life, and i really need someone by my side for it. i need the support and warmth. 

i wish my warmth would comfort me. i wish i could turn my nurturing attitude around and help myself. i wish i didn’t need smoene else for comfort. i’m a fuckin libra tho i live for romance

this guys’ great though. i hope he sticks around at least for a little bit longer. i want to learn more bout lovecraft.

my sluttiness is my biggest qualm with myself right now. it’s definitely a huge problem in my life, it’s actively causing me problems. my one friend (because, i have only one fucking friend i can actually talk to. that’s it i hAVE ONE i’m so goddamn l,onely) has been like, coaching me through making better decisions? i’m very impulsive and he’s got great advice and is quick to be like “then don’t” and shit. i’m trying really hard to make sure i dont use him as a therapist though, that’s unfair to him. i’m respectful and all that shit don’t worry bout htat. he’s a huge help to me and has been my absolute rock through college, idk where i’d be without him. he also introduced me to his friend group, who are all really amazing people? they welcomed me with open arms and no ones ever done that before. i’m always super outcasted cause i’m weird and i wont hide it because it’s ME goddamnit! but these people, they’re weird too, they’re freaks and outcasts and, while they’ve all been very close friends since they were wee tots, they still welcomed me in. they still wanted me to be part of them. i’m getting to know all of them still, but i’ve got hope that, maybe i’ve got some lifelong friends now. at the very least, i’m sure i’ve got one. 

onto phase 4 of my fuckin monologue i guess, topic SHIFT

my thesis is a mess and it’s due in three weeks, i’ve barely gotten anything done because my teacher is awful and i’m worried i’m gonna fail the course

which would be SUPER bad because, i’ve had this teacher too many times and we do not get along, she loathes my existence, and i really just need to get out. shes partly the reason i need an extra fucking year at school and i always DREAD going to her class. it’s humiliating and discouraging to spend three hours every monday there. no one else likes this professor, they’re only here becuase the school loooooves the researchers and writers. complaints dont matter. all of my other classes are fine but this one has been probably the worst, most emotionally devastating class i’ve ever taken

i don’t even get to write about a topic i want. i was forced to write about the play i was in, instead of Monty Python like i wanted (it’s a fucking comedy class!!!!!) the play is about SCHOOL SHOOTINGS (we won some national awards teehee it’s an outstanding play). yes it’s a “black comedy” but not really? it’s a drama with comedic moments? and i KNOW THIS cause i’ve been studying comedy with this professor for like three cumulative years at this point. i’m struggling beacuse there’s zero research, zero information, and has to be over 20 pages long??? like fuck? i’m so fucked

anyway thanks for coming to my TED talk. i’ve been wanting to make a vent post for like weeks but i haven’t had the time or energy and , i really needed to just....get this out. i feel a little better having all the words down. there’s still so much else going wrong in my life that i could talk about, all the car troubles, my other classes, dorm shit, but, it doesn’t matter in the light of these issues. i can get through this. i just gotta keep fighting. 

oh and if anyones like, worried, i’m not suicidal, i’m not going to do that, there’s no chance of that hpapening. i’m in a very bad place but i’m never gonig back there if i can fucking help it