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euphorajeon · 7 months

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oh, the joy of having jeon jeongguk as a boyfriend | jjk

— pairing: boxer!jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff, slight smut | college!au, boxer!jk

— word count: 0.8k

— warnings: sleeveless jk, suggestive themes, usual boxer!jk and his gf shenanigans hahaha

— summary: you just want one bite.

— author's note: pls tell me im not the only one heavily affected by his vogue photoshoots D:

masterlist | boxer!gguk masterlist

“Just one, please?”

You’ve been at this for the past fifteen minutes. The first five you spent leaning your head on your boyfriend’s shoulder, enjoying the warmth on your cheek from the skin-on-skin contact. He was still unaware of your intentions, thinking it was just a silent gesture to initiate physical touch. He’d put his arm around you then, squeezing you further into his side.

The second five minutes you spent tracing his tattoos with the tips of your fingers. You paid special attention to your favorites—the tiger lily, the Winners Never Quit wording, and the recently-discovered moon on his shoulder (which you recolored with your own mouth some weeks ago)—and gripped his arm a bit tighter when you got to his bicep. The black tank top he’s wearing gives you too much of an easy access that you didn’t realize when you start squeezing your boyfriend’s bicep repeatedly like it’s your own personal stress ball.

“Babe, what are you doing?”

Jeongguk’s question triggered your next course of action, which you have been doing for the last one-third portion of the aforementioned fifteen minutes.

“Can I bite your arm?” was your opening line. When he blinks blankly, you continue with a paraphrased question, though it doesn’t really cease Jeongguk’s confusion: “Just one bite, please?”

“Why would you wanna bite my arm?” The puzzled look on Jeongguk’s face deepens, his thick eyebrows furrowing and scrunching up his face. A sliver of recognition flashes across his eyes as he squints at you in suspicion. “Are you horny again?”

“No, no.” You’re quick to deny. “It’s just—“ You give the bicep in your grasp yet another squeeze, watching, fascinated, as the skin bounces firmly in your hand. “—so … big, so sexy, so … delicious.” There’s a giant drooling emoji in your head right now and Jeongguk can only stare in part amusement and part confusion at his entranced girlfriend.

“Please, one bite?”

Your boyfriend’s eyes jump from your pleading eyes to your pouting lips, a tiny smile playing at the edge of his lips. The double piercing on the right side of his bottom lip taunts you, almost making you swerve to a whole new part of Jeongguk’s body to have between your lips and teeth. Oh, the joy of having a hot boyfriend.

“Okay.”

“Okay??”

“Okay, you can have one bite of my arm.”

You have your mouth on his arm not even a second after Jeongguk finishes his sentence. Sinking your teeth into the flesh, you’re careful to apply only a little pressure at the beginning before gradually adding more until you see Jeongguk grimacing from the corner of your eye. It’s his fault, though, for only giving you one bite of this big, sexy, and delicious inked arm. You’re just making the best use of the opportunity you were given.

In the seconds you spend attached to his arm, you think, why stop here? You could be doing so much more to this arm than just giving it a bite mark. So, with that in mind, you start to suck. The hiss Jeongguk lets out in surprise flashes something hot in your belly that you promptly ignore to continue your assault on his arm.

“I guess it’s kinda my fault, huh?” Jeongguk hums, his free hand tucking your hair behind your ear. The gesture seems sweet, innocent even, but the way he grips your nape after is anything but. “Always flaunting my tattoos, flexing my arms … even giving you surprise kisses. I wanted your attention and got more than what I asked for.” You pretend not to be affected by his words, now licking at the angry-red skin beneath the black ink. Jeongguk doesn’t need to know how much this is turning you on.

“I didn’t say anything about giving me a hickey, though.”

Jeongguk’s grip has moved from your nape to your hair, where he gives a slight tug to pull you away from his arm. When you look up, your blurry vision is met with Jeongguk’s piercing stare, making excitement course through your veins. You didn’t plan for any of this to happen—you just wanted to bite his arm, really—but if Jeongguk wants to teach you a lesson for what you did to him, you’d happily be a good student and accept whatever he decides to give you.

“Exactly,” you challenge him, grinning. “You didn’t say anything about it, therefore, there’s no reason for me not to give you a hickey.”

“Huh.” He squints his eyes. “You said you weren’t horny, didn’t you?” Your heart drops to your stomach as he leans forward to start tracing your neck with his nose, planting a tiny kiss on it. “So it won’t be a problem if I don’t let you cum while I use you to make myself cum, right?” The sickeningly-sweet smile on his lips contradicts the lewdness of his words. “You’re not horny so you don’t need to cum, am I right?”

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Oh, the joy of having Jeon Jeongguk as a boyfriend.

— a/n: thank you for reading! feedbacks here would be very much appreciated :D

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zedecksiew · 4 months

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Whirling Mummy One-shot

(Art by Sam Mameli)

Have been deathly ill for most of this month, with barely the focus to do anything. So I've been in the dumps.

Last Wednesday I ran a one-shot for my regular TTRPG group, just to feel like I could do something---anything. I didn't have much of a voice. Just a low rasp. So all my characters that night were kinda husky, sultry folks, the kind you might find in a bar.

Apopros to the game, I suppose. I ran the Whirling Mummy, a dance-hall adventure I created for Prismatic Wastelands' ENNIE-winning bar-crawl campaign setting, Barkeep On The Borderlands:

THE WHIRLING MUMMY Madam Smiling is the never-seen proprietress of The Whirling Mummy, an undead-themed dance hall, named after Madam Smiling's ancient, still-animate consort. + Before the Keep, before goblins lived in caves – a goddess cursed a king to dance. He danced all night, he danced all season. He danced and he died. They buried him dancing. He danced in his tomb of jade mosaic. A quake split the Iron Fens, and cracked his tomb, and spat him out dancing. Tonight, in the mummy's honour: a dance-off! Various crews compete to win their hearts' desire. There has never been a wish Madam Smiling could not grant.

+++

Got my players to make characters using Barkeep's evocative background packages. The party:

Frederick the Foppish Dandy, with a big hat, dueling pistol, and a wealthy fiance called Giorgio ("Georgie!");

Alejandra the Ebullient Dancer, with a tambourine, vial of poison, and her patron the noble chanteuse Lady Gaga;

Melan the Troubled Musician, with a flute, a cymbal-playing pet monkey, and a broken heart.

Serendipitously appropriate, for an adventure featuring a dance contest!

Melan decides they have history with Kril Mouser, leader of the club's musicians.

Ironically, Alejandra spends her whole night off the podium, gassing up the crowd to win over their support.

Frederick ("Freddie!") plays out a rivalry with one of competing dance crews: a trio of voguing toffs.

Freddie ends up being the night's star dancer. "This is the kind of music Frederick plays in his room," his player says:

youtube

+++

I rolled a new event for every turn / round of the dance-off, for maximum shenanigans:

A skeleton flapper loses her head on the dance floor. The Dancer turns that skull into a ball the cheering crowd can bounce around. Poor skelly!

A gang of electric-lute-wielding bards storm Kril Mouser's band stage in an attempt to take it over. Melan spends the round fighting them off, earning the musicians' favour. (Alejandra throws her skeleton skull, knocking a bard out.)

A paladin raid on the club for illegal necromancy. This coincides with the last round of the dance-off; Freddie is too drunk to continue, so Melan takes the stage, and duels Master Mocking Of A Million Eyes, the peacock demon and final boss.

Melan's player describes their dance as "Lizzo with a flute, but while performing a Celine-Dion-like ballad".

This means they beat an eldritch horror with a combination of this:

and this:

youtube

Nice.

+++

So the party won the dance-off. They are entitled to wishes from Madam Smiling.

Frederick asks to be the richest person in the world;

Alejandra wants to retroactively swap places with her patron Lady Gaga;

Melan selflessly asks for land back for the indigenous lizardfolk. (The industrial district in which the Whirling Mummy sits used to belong to the lizard-people; there were lizard nuns handing out pins outside the club.)

I was very pleased with this game. I think it was my first successful, self-contained one-shot? We played for about three hours, and I felt buoyed by endorphins after.

I love my players. Thank you Am, Ai and Vesha for playing with me; you have kept my love for this game stuff alive.

I lost my voice again, the next day.

+++

Final scene, one year later:

Melan is the opening act for a concert by Lady Alejandra, in a city ruled by Prince Frederick the First.

All of this happens a continent away; the city in which Barkeep is set has been totally erased. A trade agreement has been signed with the lizardfolk queendoms, however---and ambassadors report an incongruous-looking dance hall, in the middle of the marsh.

Inside, it is said, a mummy in jade shoes endlessly dances. Inside, it is said, a dance contest is held, and its prize is whatever your heart desires.

#fantasies #ttrpgs #barkeep on the borderlands #the whirling mummy #dancing #play reports

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dearweirdme · 4 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/dearweirdme/737132685350322176/httpswwwtumblrcomdearweirdme7370678433419100

Not to put words in anons mouth but I work in PR and from my (maybe a little outdated) perspective; Amongst K Army, Jimin is likely more popular than Taehyung on a domestic level. You only have to look at how K Army dropped the ball on supporting Layover. His domestic numbers were some of his weakest. (Relatively speaking because he still did brilliant but when you do factor in his popularity and the demand for him, K Army performed below expectations for him)

Taehyung could be considered more popular in a general basis. In that where K Army steps off, he has a boost with a general audience to cover him. These are outliers within a target market. They might not follow the group or even the genre in general but something about Tae has caught their eye. This is why there's so much accusation of him having 'visual stans' and why he likely has more solo stans.

Now if Dispatch is looking to target KPOP/BTS fans, they're not going to do so by targeting the outliers who are less likely to give a shit in investing that much time outside of their specific interest. (In Layman's terms, they want the obsessives who are going to consume every little scrap, seek out the news rather than stumble upon it, engage with the news as opposed to just reading or watching it then going about their day etc)

So they will aim to what they know and most heavily associate with BTS; Army (specifically Korean but they'll know their news is consumed internationally) which in that case, it would make sense to focus on JM.

But like anon said, Dispatch seem to have a certain fondness for Taehyung outside of the group or the ship. They center him a lot more than they do the others and their praise is often fawning so I think, from a marketing perspective, there's 1. a couple of people making the decisions who are genuinely fans of him. It happens. 2. They're planning on expanding into foreign markets (which I don't see because more international fans consuming Dispatch news doesn't really mean Dispatch is catering specifically for them. It just means Inetz have managed to find them and by expanding I mean like Vogue. Like Dispatch USA, Dispatch UK )

3. Or they're hedging their bets that they might one day be able to knock an exclusive out of the park and they don't want to undermine their own potential story. You'd be surprised how long journalists will sit on a story for a long term benefit.

So yeah, if you go to Korea and spend time with Korean Army, you can kinda feel the difference (again though, my perspective is a little outdated) . Or you could because like anon said, his variety appearances will only boost his public reputation. It seems like one of the easier ways to endear yourself to the Korean public would be via a variety show.

And his new deal with a coffee company is gonna sky rocket him more. That was a real smart move on his part to make sure to maintain a position in the public eye while he's gone.

Hi anon!

Thanks for your insight!

#taekook #members

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researchgate · 7 months

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Super random question, but is there like an actual history about how the kippah (the piece of clothing itself not the meaning) developed, because so far I've kinda headcanon'd it came from balding men wanting to protect their bald spot from the sun. It also always seems so flimsy, how are guys not losing it all the time?

Bfhdhdjdjsjs your headcanon is A++.

Tbh, I had to look it up, since despite thinking about it when I was younger, I never bothered to look it up. According to Jewish encyclopedia, through Wikipedia,

The Israelites might have worn a headdress similar to that worn by the Bedouins, but it is unknown whether a fixed type of headdress was used. That the headdress of the Israelites might have been in the fellah style may be inferred from the use of the noun צַנִיף, tzanif (the verb tzanaf meaning "to roll like a ball", Isaiah 22:18) and by the verb חַבָּש, habash ("to wind", compare Ezekiel 16:10; Jonah 2:6). As to the form of such turbans, nothing is known, and they may have varied according to the different classes of society. This was customary with the Assyrians and Babylonians, for example, whose fashions likely influenced the costume of the Israelites—particularly during and after the Babylonian Exile.[42] [...]

I imagine that, at the beginning, it was meant to protect the skin from the sun's heat, like the Bedouin used it, and given what is customary within Babylonian and Assyrian societies, it probably had also a role in distinguishing your social class (which is still sort of a thing! For insurance, in general black kippahs are a staple of Haredi Jews). That being said, on the Assyrian stelees Jews are not shown to wear any kind of head dress, which might mean they weren't in vogue during that time (or that the one making the stelee got lazy 🦥).

Now, as for the change into a skullcap, I imagine it was a change in fashion, which stuck for the longest and thus became the norm, yet it still differs among different Jewish communities:

The Black Velvet Kippahs are, as I said, of the ultraorthodox Jews, and even they have variation: See how one has a rim and one doesn't.

Haredi children might also have velvet Kippahs with embroidery or other colors such as navy blue.

Yemenite Kippahs tend to have a dark color and embroidery at the bottom, while there are also knitted Kippahs used by less orthodox factions of Judaism, and they come in many colors and many designs.

In other words, it's either a community thing (think breslov, bukharan Jews, and haredim) and/or a fashion thing (think suede and crochedet Kippahs used by reform and modern Orthodox Jews).

A good guide for this sort of thing is this the following image, which shows a series of changes of Jewish male headdress

Jewish Head-Dress at Various Periods.1, 2. England (13th cent.). 3-5. Germany (13th cent.). 6-8. France (13th cent.). 9. Rhine Provinces (13th cent.). 10. Constance (1417). 11. Holland (15th cent.). 12. Italy (15th cent.). 13, 14. Germany (15th cent.). 15-17. Rhine Provinces (15th cent.). 18, 19. Worms (16th cent.). 20. Germany (16th cent.). 21. Worms: "Judenbischof" (17th cent.). 22. Swabia (17th cent.). 23. Frankfort-on-the-Main (1630). 24, 25. Poland (1765). 26, 27. Warsaw (1825). 28. Cracow (17th to 18th cent.). 29. Podolia (1750). 30. Tunis (1800). 31. Morocco (1800). 32. Moravia (1800). 33. Russia (modern). 34. Caucasus (modern). 35. Russia: Karaite (modern). 36, 37. Tunis (modern). 38. Russia: "Yarmulka" (modern). 39. England: rabbinical (modern).

As you can see, the headdress changed a LOT until it reached today's look, which is probably a product of changes in fashion, price of fabric, and probably also emancipation etc. and the desire to blend in better into gentile societies.

Then again, I'm no expert so I might be spewing nonsense XD.

Anyway, I hope this was helpful to some degree!!

#m:jewish #asks #anonymous #m:kippah

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chordsykat · 1 year

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OC ask meme! For Caj, 3 16 20 for Nita 34 3 40 for Cherry 29 23 20 (thats a lot, sorry XD)

Oooo! Let's do this! I answered 40 for Nita, here. As for the others...

3: How easy to annoy is your oc? Do they have common pet-peeves or are they stoic in response to everything? What is their reaction if the source doesn’t stop?

Nita - She's patient to a fault -- to her own detriment. Really really. She'll let you annoy her long after it's pushed her to her breaking point. You'll see some of this at play in Dethkomic very soon. Nita's got a problem with boundaries, but slowly and surely, she works it out. Unfortunately until she does... she's likely to just let it keep going even after other people are beginning to find it obnoxious.

Caj - Also has a lot of patience, but she'll let you know when you're getting on her nerves. The only thing that really truly bothers her (except Skwisgaar) is inaction when action is clearly warranted. Caj is the wind element of the bunch. If she's not moving, she dies. Or, moreover, she takes matters into her own hands.

16 (Caj): If your oc could only eat one thing for the rest of their life (while miraculously not suffering from malnutrition), what would it be? Does this match their favourite food?

Caj is on record as saying chocolate is the only addiction she hasn't been to rehab for. On tour, she is well-known for hitting up restaurants and asking for the dessert list up front -- proceeding to order the most decandent chocolate *whatever* on the menu. There are some exceptions (she doesn't consider American chocolate to be real food) but her sweet tooth is as legendary as her music.

20: Does your oc have any pleasure that embarrasses them so they keep it secret? Or are they open about all the things they enjoy?

Caj - Probably knows more about the characters and worlds that inhabit her kids' favorite shows and books than they do. Following the timeline of when my stories *actually* happened, Caj would probably be a brony. If they'd happened today, she'd unironically enjoy Bluey and Blippi. I'm not sure how out she'd be about these things, but I'm sure she'd correct other parents when they confused Pinkie Pie for Rainbow Dash.

Cherry - She's pretty hedonistic and sees no shame in enjoying all that life has to offer and doing it out loud. Her "guilty pleasures" are many for this reason. Cherry's got a not-so-secret love for sappy romcoms, loves to overdo it on makeup snd wildly out-of-vogue hairstyles any chance she gets, and has a thing for pink flamingo lawn ornaments and similarly themed items.

34 (Nita): What would someone blackmail your oc with? Would they be successful in getting what they wanted?

That's a tough one. What they'd blackmail her with isn't as hard a question -- probably a loved one. But God help those bad guys if the one they took hostage was her dad. They'd give him back.

How successful they'd be is what has me stuck. Nita's quick to please, and if it was someone she loved dearly, there's no question she'd do anything in order to save them. However, one of Nita's innate abilities is this persuasive nature she seems to have over others that come in contact with her. She's a spirit of harmony and getting along (and yeah, here again, I'm kinda hinting at superpowers). Maybe all it'd take for the antagonist to drop the ball is hanging around her for a few minutes? I mean... can you blame them? Who'd want to hurt this chick? LOL

29 (Cherry): If your oc was in a video game, what would their idle animation be? (When the player stays still for too long, the animation that plays.)

I actually almost did this when I found a plugin that would allow me to put idle animations on characters in Harmonic Odyssey (but, feature creep, yanno...) -- would absolutely have her roll a joint and smoke it until the player picked their controller back up again.

23 (Cherry): What is the most annoying sound to your oc? What’s the most pleasant? Is there any reason?

I LOVE it when I have to re-read my own character sheets to figure stuff like this out. Annoying is a very good question because she "analyzes" sound in a way that would confuse and confound most people who don't specifically have her sort of sensitivities. She is always looking for patterns and notes in things, even when there aren't any to be found. If none exist, she will likely shrug it off until there's too much of nothing to be found. I imagine she's cool with a consistent white noise, but only to a point. Having an alarm or something that should have a regular "beat" go off without keeping a consistent time pattern might be her kryptonite.

Pleasant sounds? Let's talk about the sound of water pipes... for several reasons that should be obvious by now. :)

Thank you for another round of wonderful questions! I sincerely doubt I'll ever get tired of doing Q&As off this list. XD

Original prompt is right here!

#mtl oc #answered #quizzes and questions!

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asameera · 2 years

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Oddworld: Code 583 - Chapter 10: Room SB.322

WARNING: VIOLENCE AHEAD!

ooOoo

Night had long since fallen when Lure opened his eyes. His mind still foggy, he sat up slightly, shaking his head to chase away the sleepiness, which proved to be more difficult than expected. He stretched his limbs, savoring their flexibility and firmness. The dish he had consumed before falling asleep had to be stuffed with some damn vitamins, he still felt the effects of it. It was very pleasant.

Finally, he jumped to his feet, arched his back for a moment, cracking his vertebrae, and approached the windows. Through the glass, in the dark night dotted with stars, he could see the gigantic white sphere that lit the way. Despite the mask that enhanced his poor eyesight, the Slig struggled to make out the shape of the craters on the round surface. If he had the chance one day, he might buy himself precision glasses, like those held by snipers. But what would be the point? He was seeing the moon for the very first time in his life, and he certainly wouldn't get another chance. During his time at Slig Barracks, the pollution was so bad that clouds of smoke hid the sky, and when he had been transferred to Gottlieb Industriz, he had to take a train in a closed compartment without any windows. When his boss had asked him to accompany him to Nolybab, his attention had been taken up by his boss's mood and he had frankly not paid attention to what was over his head. And once he'd return to the factory, he would again be confined within these walls, in this small room, with her.

It was she who had spoken of the moon, he remembered now. This celestial body seemed important to her. Maybe he could at least ask her why? He squinted more, tried to identify the dark, blurred shapes. Some kind of spider? No. Then trees? Maybe not. Then maybe... a hand? Caught in doubt, he raised his own to the round surface. The four dark peaks matched the number of fingers, but it didn't seem to quite fit either. So he lowered his hand, almost disappointed. It would have been kinda cool if it had fitted.

He then looked down to the ground and suddenly noticed a whole complex of rounded buildings, strewn with white and green lights, as well as several control towers armed with projectors scanning the sky. He could even make out several advertising panels underlined by colored neon lights, which announced the newest products in vogue with the disturbing image of a Vykker on the poster. The Slig let out a swearing in his native language, feeling uncomfortable.

A purple skin that recalled the poisons they handled. Four arms as thin as dead shrub stems, punctuated by three long black claws. Three tiny legs that supported a naturally deformed body. A small, bulging belly, a back that seemed to go too far back, pulled by a protruding spine. A huge head that seemed to plunge forward, with a cephalopod skull reminiscent of the Glukkons. Very small yellow eyes deeply sunken in their sockets and disproportionately dirty lower teeth, which could be seen on the outside even when they closed their mouths. And of course, they were often adorned with an array of pharmaceutical or medical equipment.

Lure had never understood how anyone could make a sale with a face like that, although he probably didn't have any say in the matter - but still, they looked like evil chewing gum on legs! The Vykkers might be respected scientific researchers, but they still looked like mad scientists, ready to dissect you. In fact... they truly were mad scientists who didn't care about ethics or animal suffering - why would they, when the conglomerate they belonged to, as powerful as the Magog Cartel, didn't either? To tell the truth, they even played with it, with a certain sense of humor that displeased no one. Often, in a corner of the advertising poster, one could see the image of a small furry ball with big shiny eyes, stung on all sides with huge syringes, surrounded by a catchphrase: 'Many Fuzzles have been mistreated in order to bring you this product'.

At this sight, Lure understood two things. First of all, he was particularly sensitive to this black humor and couldn't hold back a chuckle, even though he knew that there was no joke in it. Nobody could really change at core. And then, if he was able to read so well, it meant that the airship was getting closer and closer to the complex. This was to be their destination. Just below the ship, the Slig spotted an Intern on a landing floor waving at them with two glow sticks. On the platform they were heading to was marked in capital letters 'SITE S - GATE B3'.

Yes, this was their destination.

Just before he turned away, Lure looked up one last time, but the moon had vanished from his view. He hurriedly retrieved the envelope that had slipped under his bed and walked to the locked door, ready to leave. The feeling in the pit of his stomach accompanied by a thud and a slight jolt told him that the ship had finally landed. Immediately, the door opened automatically in front of him.

“Please step out into the hallway and line up.”

Lure didn't need to be told twice. Nor did any other Slig for that matter. As if they had all been rehearsing the same choreography together for weeks, they had all stepped forward with the same mechanical noise, and were now standing as straight as possible, unmoving, waiting for orders. It all came so naturally, and that meant only one thing: the training at Slig Barracks had paid off. They were all good guys, shaped just right. They were all the same, out of the same mold. It was reassuring.

A little further on, Lure heard the gangway lowered and the cold night air rushed in with the dry sand. Lure would have gladly shivered, but now his entire genetic code remembered. He was a soldier, he was compliant, he had to show it. When the shrill voice ordered them out, it was as if a single entity had moved through all the security guards. Right leg, left leg, to the martial rhythm they knew by heart. One, two, one, two... no questions, no doubts, just an order in mind and blind obedience.

Although... Lure almost broke the chain at some point, when he heard a loud noise behind him and realized that the airship was taking off again. The rhythm within him was disturbed as unnecessary questions raced through his head. Why was it taking off again? Wasn't it supposed to wait for them? How were they supposed to get back? Was this normal? But he didn't say anything, didn't show anything. He continued to move forward and passed through the heavy automatic doors that invited them to enter a pale, sanitized world of white tiles and blinding lights.

The hallway stretched for several dozen meters before leading to a tiny office where a Vykker was waiting for them, obviously more busy flipping through files than greeting them. When the first Slig reached the office and stopped, all the others did the same behind, creating a long line that almost ended on the heeliopad. The Vykker didn't even look up from his work, but held one of his four skeletal arms straight out in front of him, claws open.

“The letter, please.”

The tone of his voice was as high-pitched as the airship's announcements, and Lure felt his eardrums protest. Did all the Vykkers really sound like that? If so, he was glad he wasn't working for them. He was more used to the loud, hoarse and deep tone of the Glukkons. Fortunately, the Vykkers employed mostly Interns rather than Sligs. Fortunately.

“Room SB-31. Next! Letter.”

As he went on, Lure could see the scientist repeating the same movements over and over. One arm to grab the envelope, a second to break the seal, while the last two were busy rearranging the files. The Vykker's disgusting yellow eyes took just two seconds to read the contents on paper before returning to his work.

“Room SB-36. Next!”

And as soon as the Slig left to make room for the next one, the purple creature tore up the letter before extending its claws again.

“Letter.”

The line moved on, nothing changed in this routine. Only five more. Nothing could be heard but the rustling of pages, the high-pitched voice, the tearing of paper. Only four more. The bright red through the lenses of his mask was hurting his eyes. Three. The sounds echoed, but beyond them was an amplified deathly silence. Two. He could hear his own blood pounding in his temples. One.

“Room SB-321. (riiiiiiiip) Next!”

Lure took a step forward and held out his envelope before the scientist asked for it. A useless gesture, because the Vykker didn't even look up to see him.

“Letter” he repeated in the same monotone, raising his arm.

Lure kept himself from sighing and adjusted his position to put the envelope between the black claws. Now in the front row, he studied the Vykker's behavior, tried to understand, to discreetly take a look at the words he had carried so far. But no other clue was revealed to him. Except for a tiny movement above the scientist: a camera seemed to follow the unfolded letter with its lens, as if it was recording the writings before they were destroyed. He wondered if someone else was reading through the object at this very moment.

“Room SB-322.”

The sound of tearing paper resounded within him, but the Slig was already heading automatically down the turning corridor, following the others he could no longer see because of the curve. As he took his turn, he found himself facing a multitude of doors embedded in the walls, arranged in a staggered pattern. The Sligs he had been following a short time ago had already disappeared.

“Urgh... what a gloomy place...”

While looking for the door indicated to him, Lure took the opportunity to listen, but nothing came to him. It was as if he was absolutely alone down here. He tried not to think about it too much as he found himself facing room SB-322. The slight hesitation he had was not enough, and he entered inside.

He immediately felt the difference. The air was warmer, iron atoms were floating in the air. The white had disappeared, giving way to a light gray. Or maybe it was due to the reduced light? The floor and walls were completely covered with uniform tiles, and between them all, the joints looked strange, as if dotted with dark stains that had not been successfully removed. The same kind of stains that one struggled to remove after emptying a load of bullets on a Mudokon. On the ceiling, pipes were snaking between the tiles, ending in faucet-like devices. On the floor, several black drains contrasted with the pale ceramic.

And at the center of the room, there was nothing but a metal seat.

“Sit down.”

The voice came from the ceiling. It was different from the unpleasant tonality of the Vykkers, from the deep and threatening tone of the Glukkons, from the nasal sounds of the Sligs, from the whining of the Mudokons. It was a feminine sound, welcoming, pleasant. Motherly.

He had the feeling he had heard that voice before. It sounded like his protegee's, well, almost. There was something different about it. But he couldn't put his finger on it.

“I'm so happy to see you again. Sit down, you must be exhausted.”

The Slig complied while staring at every corner of the ceiling.

“Er... I'm fine, thanks. Do we know each other?”

There was a small crystalline laugh and Lure gulped. This time, he was sure of it. It was subtle, and if he hadn't lived with Asameera for the past few weeks, the nuance would have been completely lost on him. When she spoke or laughed, even when she was sad, Asameera's voice was warm, sincere. The laughter that was echoing in this room right now was exaggerated, superficial. It made him uncomfortable, and he decided to get up in a second.

He didn't get the chance.

A series of straps shot from the backrest and slammed into his waist and torso, pinning him to the seat. Leather handcuffs sprang up from the armrests and legs of the seat and shackled his arms and feet. Above him, a spotlight turned on, flooding him with its harsh light, blinding him halfway. Taken by surprise, he yelped, struggled, but only the same laughter filled the room, a little more real, rejoicing in his helplessness.

“Hey!” he shouted, as outraged as panicked. “What the fuck?!”

The laughter decreased a little as the stranger spoke again, the voice dripping with wicked joy.

“Don't worry, you'll have all my attention in a few seconds. I'm almost done with your brother.”

“My...? What? Hey!”

“In the meantime, let's see what your file says... '583. Responsible for arson blah blah blah significant property damage blah blah blah numerous victims blah blah high treason...' Mmmm... you have indeed outdone yourself!”

Lure couldn't believe his ears.

“Huh? But... what are you...?”

The wheels clicked into place, enough to finally understand what he was doing there. The fright made his adrenaline level rise so high that he thought his heart would give out.

“I have nothing to do with it!” he screamed. “I'm a security guard, I wasn't even there at that moment! Hey, you hear me?! It wasn't me! I was with her when it happened! I couldn't be elsewhere! Check it out!”

The invisible being royally ignored his plea.

“Ah... they are all looking for a way to blame someone else. It's unfortunate for you, but I read right here that there are many testimonies against you. And the seal and signature are authentic, so...”

“They're lying! I couldn't! It wasn't me! Gottlieb must know! He couldn't...!”

“Gottlieb judged you guilty by sending you here. I would ask you not to sue your employer, it's embarrassing.”

“B-but...”

“Silence!”

The order clashed like a whip, authoritative and implacable. The air suddenly left the distressed Slig's lungs, leaving him speechless and helpless. How did it happen? Why did it happen?

Suddenly, a whole section of the ceiling opened up and something slowly descended before Lure's terrified eyes. The scream that wanted to escape from his throat remained stuck in his paralyzed body. He had heard of them before, but never in his life had he thought he would come across one of these abominations.

The thing looked like a huge, fully mechanical spider. As a body, a white television screen covered with parasites blinked intermittently. On each side of it, there were black robotic arms with circular saws, claws, scalpels, syringes... Lure was so horrified that he couldn't count them. He could only see the blood still fresh on the instruments of torture, as well as the splatters on the screen. Above the device was a bright white halo, like an aureole, to signify that it belonged to the good side of Quarma and to make people forget about its horrific side - to no avail. The thing was held in the air by a huge mechanical arm that came out of the ceiling.

A Guardian Angel. Or, more commonly called, a Shrink.

The screen blinked faster and faster and a silhouette appeared. The outlines and features of the being were light gray while everything else remained white, making the image difficult to read. Only the cruel little eyes of the creature were piercing him with a threatening bright red. However, at that moment, Lure knew exactly who he was dealing with, his instinct told him all too well.

“Y-you're the Queen...” he stammered.

Inside the screen, the five little tentacles of the female Slig's snout twitched in a satisfied smile. A ring set with a huge glistening stone was surrounding one of them. Her little eyes were highlighted with mascara and slender eyebrows had been added with a pencil. A headband adorned with a flower was embracing the top of her bald head. Lure could only see her face, unmasked, but he could tell she was huge. Really huge. Like the monster of his nightmares.

“Uh uh!” she purred, fluttering her eyelashes, a huge fat arm readjusting her headband. “You may call me Skillya, my little one. You will forgive me for not coming to meet you in person, but my condition prevents me from moving myself. Fortunately for us, the Vykkers allow me to borrow one of their Shrink so that we can communicate. Convenient, don't you think?”

She was smiling, looking like she was having a good time, while the blood-covered robot kept levitating in front of Lure, circular saws all out and running. Slig sank into the back of his seat in a vain attempt to get away from the blades.

“Er... yes, yes, Y-your opulent Majesty, very convenient...”

“You know, I'm very happy that you and your brothers have arrived at this time. You'll be able to join me for dinner.”

“Oh I... I'm very honored, Your... er... imposing Highness but... uh... I, I ate a little while ago so I... I wouldn't want to impose myself any further...”

Once again, she gave him her crystalline laugh that sounded so fake. Lure felt as if a storm of ice had just swept into the room.

“Come on, don't be silly, kid! There's a place for everyone. Look, look!”

Her puffy face disappeared and instead a long table took its place on the screen. About thirty plates were spread out on it, and several interns were already walking around, ready to serve the first meat dishes. But there were no guests yet. The Slig blinked as one of the Interns finished seasoning the dish first and gently lifted the plate to bring it to the end of the table, to the forefront of the screen. He placed it between two hands with enormous fingers, which Lure guessed were the Queen's.

“Thank you my friend! Uh uh!”

Then the screen flashed back to Skillya's face, who was already biting into two pieces at once while making an appreciative sound.

“Mmmm, not bad! It tastes pretty good, but I'd like to think you'll outdo it.”

“Out... outdo it?”

There was something very hypnotic and disturbing about watching her gulp down her food. Lure couldn't help but remember that day in the lunchroom, when he was offered the meat cooked over a flame. The meat of his colleagues who had died in the fire. And Gottlieb's comment.

'It's some kind of tradition'.

“M-majesty... the thing you eat, it's...”

She smiled broadly at him.

“Your brother of course!”

More and more meat was served on the plates.

“You, and all the others, who had dishonored your employers, who had dishonored me and made me suffer, you will all join me.”

Suddenly the Shrink spread its multiple robotic arms and turned its circular saws to full power. Skillya's red eyes flashed with resentment and sadism.

“On my plate!”

Panic struck him as the Shrink was about to pounce on him and tear him apart alive. He pulled on his arms, wagged his tail frantically to activate his legs, put all his strength and desperation into freeing himself, but the straps only dug deeper into his flesh and ribs, the bones in his arm creaked under the thick cuffs, and the components of his mechanical prosthetics sizzled with agony. Tears of terror escaped his small eyes and flooded his face under his mask, blurring the vision of horror before him. He felt the first blade close to his muzzle and his nerves gave out completely.

“NO! NO! HELP! MOMMY HELP!”

He could barely hear the voice over his own screams and the screeching of the saws.

“Shut up! Don't call me that! Do you really think I'm going to help you because you invoke that pathetic word? Who do you think I am, you little fool? I am your Queen, and nothing else!”

“Don't say that! You can't be her! You can't!”

“Where did you think you came from? Are you stupid?”

The spinning teeth sliced into the flesh between his shoulder and his neck. Lure screamed, more in fear than in pain. A stream of hot blood spurted onto his own face, visor and muzzle. He could already feel the saw cutting painfully into his bones.

“NO MOMMY NO! PLEASE! WHAT HAVE I DONE? WHAT HAVE I DONE WRONG? I'LL FIX IT!”

“What have you done wrong? I'll tell you.”

With that, Skillya stabbed her son's prosthetic arm with the scalpel blade. A spray of sparks flew out of the cut and made the room flicker like a strobe light.

“You were born.”

She turned and turned the blade without realizing that she was chopping metal and not flesh.

“And I will never forgive you! I'll never forgive any of you!”

Lure's body began to convulse as his mother, no, his Queen plunged the saw deeper and deeper through his collarbone. There was nothing left to do. Through his empty mind, transient with pain and nothingness, he managed to see her image. She was smiling at him, her hands on his belly, softly speaking his name.

Lure.

He wanted to see her.

Lure.

He didn't want to die.

Lure.

He wanted to continue living his miserable existence, to be able to see her.

“A... Asameera!”

The desire to see her again filled his being, pressed hard on the spot the saw had not reached yet.

“Asameera!”

She was looking at him with her sad and compassionate eyes.

I would have been sad if you had been killed.

He didn't want to make her sad!

“SAM!” he screamed.

The rest happened in a flash. Literally.

There was an supernatural flash and lightning fell from the sky directly on the Guardian Angel. The screen cracked and snowed over in a cacophony of static and high-pitched screams as Skillya roared in surprise and rage. Then another bolt of lightning struck, then another, then another, still on the same target, pushing the abomination away from the half-unconscious Slig. The lights on the ceiling exploded and shards of broken glass were blown in all directions. With a long distorted bestial scream, the screen exploded and the Shrink's supporting arm gave way. The robotic device crashed to the ground with a thunderous ruckus. The last sparks lit up the room dimly as the robot's carcass began to release whistling smoke.

Just before he lost consciousness, the Slig thought he heard wings fluttering nearby, then a familiar voice calling his name. Then his head dropped completely to his chest and he heard no sound any more.

ooOoo

...

I really, really, reeeeeally hope you’ve enjoyed it!

First: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/asameera/691287639162290176?source=share

Previous: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/asameera/693472918491070464?source=share

Next: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/asameera/694116763177189376?source=share

#oddworld #fanfiction #code 583 #chapter 10 #slig #blood #skillya #violence #family issues

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macaroni-rascal · 5 months

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Now, let's start with the senior ladies because they deserve to headline. Halle-fucking-lujah, Isabeau got a new dress. It's not the most remarkable, but at least it's not a down jacked that exploded in the wash. It did the job, now let's hope the SP dress undergoes the same treatment. Good on her for bouncing back like that, but I still don't fully enjoy her skating because of the coaching failures. Rion did well to recover from that nasty pop but she's still not the most compelling and without the high tech she doesn't have much to fall back on. Hana is so cute but her programs are kinda weird. I think the red glove is supposed to be a bird's beak and those are not little leaves but I guess feathers? Either way, I'd like to see more direction in the program selection and more individuality shining through. Nina has some lovely qualities but they're counteracted by some glaring deficiencies. Her packaging and music are good but she looks like she's watched too much recent Russian skating. I don't know if they can do anything to fix it at this point. I'm much more charitable towards Loena's costume now that I know she designed it herself, but omg what I wouldn't give to never hear Vogue again. There was even a jr free dance that for some reason paired it with Frozen, but it was a Ukrainian team, so they get all the leeway. This, on the other hand, just doesn't work, most of the choreo isn't on beat and in the hands of an any less charming performer, it would be DOA. There are so many directions they could go in. I think the artist they're looking for is Ciara. If they want a Eurodance vibe, there's Inna, there's Cascada, there's all the Eurovision queens, the international pop girlies, the entire thriving LatAm music scene to pick from... Why this off-brand version of something that's been done before, twice, more successfully, when she's so unique and such a breath of fresh air? And the arms above the head on all the jumps feel like such a throwback. I don't know what to prescribe, a summer in Champery perhaps? Shae-lynn? Jeff Buttle? Jeff Buttle. Kaori is so sophisticated and so in her element at this point that although these are safer program choices than she's had before, I think she's earned her stripes and can clearly deliver on anything she sets her mind to. The packaging is mature, classy and suits her position in the sport as its reigning queen. We'll look back on this as a blessed time.

The men really said "we're gonna men so hard, y'all don't even know!" And so they did. The French men have more rights than ever, they low-key own my ass, especially Adam. There's a Patrick Chan-ness to his carriage that I can't quite describe, but so much more on top of it. He truly is a daredevil and although the jumping technique is wild, the risks he takes tend to pay off, he's really exciting to watch and always has artistically coherent material, it's not just cool tricks for tricks' sake. That Arabian could save the world. Even when he makes mistakes, I'm riveted. I think he learned an important lesson here about not peaking at the Shanghai fucking Trophy. Kevin did the Chris Knierim thing where he quit mid-program. But we know what we sign up for with him, I guess, and when it works, it's magic, but when it doesn't, it's just pain. He's one of few skaters I'd subject my eardrums to Bolero for so he better regroup. Kao was also a struggle but at least I figured out what bothers me about his skating - he skates like Russian Mark, where his weight isn't properly positioned over the blade, it's over his arches and not the balls of his feet. By contrast, watching Yuma is such a vacation. His technique is so sound and reliable that I can just kick back and relax. He's above all a well-managed skater, and he still has room to grow, which is exciting. I couldn't get a really good look at his shirt but it seems like it has two layers of sheer fabric over a fitted velour top and that's brilliant in such an understated way, because his skating speaks for itself anyway. I'd really like to see him do more original material, though. Carolina at the boards is such a soothing presence, more people should work with her. I didn't like Shoma's shirt as much because I feel like it doesn't know what it wants to be, was it the same one previously? Idk, but he's worn such stunning pieces before that I'm a little underwhelmed. Still, breathtaking skating, wild jump technique and air position notwithstanding. One of the skaters with the highest emotional ROI for me thus far. I wish he'd won. Okay, how on earth are Ilia's new costumes even worse!? He looked like Slenderman or the creatures from the Hush episode of Buffy. Why can't they figure out something as simple as the packaging when they can figure out a freaking 4A!? If he wasn't grown, I'd be calling CPS. It's an epidemic among the North American male skaters who have Soviet parents, it's honestly a meme at this point. It irks me because he has the tech and you can see the flexibility and the potential to be artistic, and it just isn't happening. He's regressed in that department, but fatigue probably played a part. For the love of god, take the prize money and fly to Montreal, I can't take this anymore! He has great hair, they should make it a feature.

The dance deserves its own post because Saucy was so valid in what she said.

Agreed on Isabeau's new dress, it looks so much better, she doesn't need to look like her grandma's curtains were bedazzled and gathered into a giant parachute of a dress. Amen amen amen. I'm with on Rion, Hana, and Nina, I haven't really felt much from any of them, and haven't had the urge to rewatch any of their skates. Nina especially, she is very Russian girl coded, it's all pumping up and down in cross overs, quick bad transitions, and eeked out jumps. I wish Leona would also ditch this free skate, that attempt at duck walking was cute the first time, and now makes me cringe. Bow down to Queen Kaori, she is finally getting her flowers and I love that for her. She IS the moment. Look at the material!

I'm still on the fence with Adam, those Benoit programs are a slog for me to get through, I just find them needlessly cerebral and overwrought; there's something arrogant about Benoit's programs that I can't put my finger on. Kevin, oh Kevin. Le sigh. That's all I got for him. Kao confuses me, cause there's moments that are good, and them even more moments where it looks like he's trying to fight off an imaginary bee, it's all off balance and twitchy. Yuma, I salute you. Love him to death, he's wonderful. Shoma is...god, I love Shoma. I also wish he'd won. Ilia should still not be getting above 7s in PCS, I'll die on that hill. His tech is amazing, everything else is meh, so his marks should be 'just okay.'

The single skaters, overall, had a nice GPF though, I enjoyed both disciplines here. Thanks for sharing your thoughts as always!

#konner talks skating #fashionista nonny #you are an icon

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iman2 · 6 months

Text

? let's rob jan3lle

br3ak my s0ul, you did it wrong. and i, have 'notes'.

it's actually ft. mc d3bra not big fre3dia but b.f would feel a way if you switched up. porque no los dos? mc debr@ works at the shop too.

"give that girl a new cut, a new color, a new hair do. change the bundles she's been having past weeks." LMAO.

anyway,

you're at the hairsalon (aka when you eat prince and you don't know what it is, what it is), and you're telling your stylist, freedia (lol) about your shitty ass marriage. i just fell in love…with a vibrator but the gag is that it's a fleshlight cuz you LOVE tr1bbing.

it's a soulful song, sing it like you mean it. matta fact, re-record it. it has no oomph whatsoever. the album has no oomph. they won't tell you but i'd be kiki-ing with judy. HA!

you're looking for a new vibration (idk the song), it's a new hairstyle. you're telling the stylist this through the song, it's a conversation. you like the short hair in the drew gifs. i know. you like the annalise k3ating shit. they do your hair, they do the reveal and then you hit the runway.

release the pain , release the anger, epilepsy warning lmaoooooo rainbow colors. you're cumming.

whatever this looks like is up to you.

in the song, when you go, uh la la la la la… it's like you've discovered something, yourself. wow, i look amazing with this hair. la la la la it's cunnilingus. you like to perform it.

depending on what you chose to do. you can have different people make a "discovery" and then strut. it could turn into a ballroom fight if you're smart. i'm prettier than you. lalalalala. i can dance better than you, lalalala. you can switch up the lalalla… tempos depending on whose turn it is to strut.

Bq Vogue Fem Part 10 Other View @ Latex Ball 2019 Honey Labeija vs Makayla Lanvin - YouTube

lmfaoo you're a FUCKING poser you don't actually like ballroom shit but lucky for you a circle of closet gays think they're me. weird, in my mind's eye, you really look pregnant.

i'm thinking of this video and i kinda see fr3akum dress in my mind.

lol, i am too nice. but i like to help out who i can! anyway, if you are here. you will make a bunch of people very happy with this. and you look so pregnant. do you like cheetos?

#i am too nice #ft giselle the wasp

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iamwestiec · 3 years

Text

June 17: Chengxian 💜🖤💕

childhood friends to lovers/QPPs, ace Jiang Cheng, bi & aro Wei Wuxian, modern AU

(A/N: If you're wondering about a certain other someone, he will have a wonderful, full life of his own in Suzhou in this AU but is not in this story. 💙 There are some brief mentions of offscreen ace-antagonism, not by anyone we know.)

Read on ao3

Jiang Cheng had been Wei Ying's best friend in the whole world for his entire life.

Okay. Well, not quite his entire life, but certainly since Wei Ying’s parents moved to California when he was little little, which was about as far back as Wei Ying could remember anyway. Wei Ying’s baba and Jiang Cheng’s baba had grown up in Wuhan together and been best friends when they were kids, so naturally, when Wei Ying’s family moved into the same neighborhood as the Jiangs, it made perfect sense for Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng to become best friends too.

It was Jiang Cheng who had taught Wei Ying that he didn't have to be afraid of dogs, by introducing him to Princess, Jasmine, and Lil' Love. Lil' Love lived up to her name, coming and quietly sitting in all her fluffy glory on Wei Ying’s lap every time he went over to play.

It was also Jiang Cheng who Wei Ying got drunk with for the first time. They snuck booze from the cabinet where Wei Ying’s parents kept it and laughed at the faces each other made with every shot until they stopped tasting the harsh burn, and then laughing more just because.

(Wei Ying’s mom had not laughed, not at the time, when the two teens had been sick as anything the next morning, but instead made them a gloriously greasy late breakfast and gave them lots of advice about proper hydration.

Then she told Jiang Cheng’s mom and let her scold them.)

It was Jiang Cheng who came out first, their first semester in college, when he told Wei Ying he didn't think he wanted to have sex with anyone, ever, and asked if Wei Ying thought that meant no one would ever want to date him. Wei Ying hugged him tight and told him he didn't know about everyone out there, but he knew Jiang Cheng was the best guy in the world and would be an awesome boyfriend, and he'd fight anyone who said differently.

Jiang Cheng found a group on campus for third culture LBGT kids, and Wei Ying went with him, as a supportive ally.

Which was how Wei Ying figured out that he was not just a supportive ally.

In listening to the others talk about orientation and identity and attraction and cultural expectations, Wei Ying realized that what he'd always assumed was normal—finding all kinds of people physically attractive, regardless of their gender—was actually his bisexuality. So that was kind of cool.

"So yeah, now we can be queer together!" Wei Ying said, when he excitedly shared his newfound realization with Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng snorted. "Yeah, 'all' and 'nothing,'" he joked.

It was Jiang Cheng who'd helped him practice what to say to his parents when he wanted to change his major at the end of sophomore year, and Jiang Cheng who reminded him to eat and sleep and "take a fucking break, Wei Ying," those next couple semesters when he took way too many hours so he wouldn't have to rack up a whole extra year's worth of student loans to finish his new degree plan.

It was Jiang Cheng who graduated first, on a gorgeous blue-skyed sunny day in May, and Jiang Cheng who suggested Wei Ying keep living with him at his new apartment, so he wouldn't have to try to find a one-semester lease until he finished in December.

(They renewed the lease together every time.)

Jiang Cheng ribbed him playfully each time Wei Ying met someone new, but he was always there each times things fizzled out after a few months for reasons that never quite made sense to Wei Ying.

Jiang Cheng occasionally dated too, and Wei Ying was glad he never did have to fight anybody—though he did drive Jiang Cheng to the emergency room the time he came home with split knuckles from punching a guy who, "seemed to think I didn't know my own mind about certain things."

But dating sucked for everybody, right? It wasn't like Wei Ying or Jiang Cheng were in any hurry to settle down and do the whole spouse and kids thing or whatever. Wei Ying tried to imagine it and just... couldn't, though the image of Jiang Cheng with a baby was admittedly pretty cute.

It was not Jiang Cheng, but Jiang Yanli, a few months after she proposed to her girlfriend and they started planning their wedding, who Wei Ying finally asked, "Yanli-jie, how does a person decide someone else is their person?"

Jiang Yanli looked across the room to where Jiang Cheng was showing her soon-to-be-wife how to put side spin on a billiards ball and smiled. "I think you just know," she said. "You meet someone and you get to know them, spend time together, then one day you realize you love them and want to build the rest of your life with them."

Wei Ying wrinkled his nose. "I dunno if it works that way for me. Just some random person? I've never met anyone I can imagine wanting to live with all the time. Well, besides—huh..." he cut off suddenly and darted a look over at Jiang Yanli, who just calmly sipped her drink.

"Have you ever told him that?" she asked, after a moment where Wei Ying reassessed his entire life and dating history. "I think he might appreciate hearing it."

"I... huh. Yanli-jie, you're kinda blowing my mind here," he complained.

"I gathered," she said wryly, before fixing him with a smile that made all the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "Of course, I trust," she told him, "that I do not need to explain to you of all people how very dearly I hold my didi's happiness and well-being."

He swallowed and raised three fingers in the salute he'd used ever since the summer that—hah—he and Jiang Cheng had decided as kids that they would make their own oath of brotherhood like the heroes of their favorite show. "I, Wei Ying, swear to you that I would kick my own ass before I did anything to hurt him."

Jiang Yanli leaned over to knock her shoulder against his and nodded. "That's what I thought."

Turned out, dating Jiang Cheng didn't suck at all.

It felt easy in a way Wei Ying’s past dates never had, less like trying to keep up with a game whose rules everybody knew except him, more like... well, like spending time with his best friend in the whole world, but on purpose. There was also a tension in the back of Wei Ying’s mind that seemed to have lifted, though he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was that had gone.

It was Jiang Cheng who helped him figure it out.

"I think it's that now I'm able to count on this. On us," he said, when Wei Ying brought it up. "Before, whenever you went out with someone new, I wondered if this would be the time you'd find someone to fall in love with and leave me behind."

"Aww, Chengcheng! I would never!"

Jiang Cheng huffed and rolled his eyes, but his cheeks were pink. "Well, I know that now," he said, a pleased little smile breaking through his attempts at a scowl.

"As long as you're sure—" Wei Ying began, still getting used to thinking about himself with the word "aromantic." Still a so very sure that Jiang Cheng deserved to be fallen in love with.

"Hey!" Jiang Cheng cut him off. "None of that. I know you. And I know you don't see it this way, but I personally think it's pretty damn romantic that you choose to love me, on purpose."

"I simply have exquisite taste in life partners," Wei Ying sniffed, embarassed the way he always got when Jiang Cheng declared something he'd done "romantic."

"You do," Jiang Cheng agreed. "Someone told me a long time ago I was the best guy in the world and would make an awesome boyfriend, and that he would fight anyone who said differently."

Wei Ying laughed. "That's you and your sister I've promised to kick my own ass if I ever break your heart, then. Guess I'll just have to keep you forever."

"Damn right, you will," Jiang Cheng agreed, grinning smug and happy and breathtakingly beautiful. Wei Ying leaned across the couch to give him a sweet, closed-mouth kiss—the kind Jiang Cheng had shyly admitted he actually did like, a lot—and smiled too, at how lucky he'd gotten to be with his best friend in the whole world for his entire life.

🖤💜

Today's (extremely long!) thread was inspired by this WONDERFUL art of ace Jiang Cheng and bi & aro Wei Ying! Go give Midori some love on Twitter!

I spent a nonzero amount of time googling to double check when various terms and flags came into vogue, so if you're wondering, WWX & JC were in college in the early 2000s, before the ace and aro flags were designed. By the time they get themselves figured out, they can get their cute wristbands.

...which, yes, means these dingdongs spent about a solid decade living together before realizing that was what they wanted to do forever. 😉

This also means Jiang Yanli and her unnamed wife here are getting married between when California started recognizing same-sex marriages in 2008 and the Obergefell v. Hodges ruling in 2015! THIS SHIT'S RECENT!!!

Happy Pride, thank you for reading, check out more LGBTQIA+ sweetness on my #PrideMonthSnippets Masterpost!

#PrideMonthSnippets #chengxian #westie writes #mdzs #the untamed #asexual pride #aromantic pride #asexual jiang cheng #bisexual wei wuxian #aromantic wei wuxian #queerplatonic relationship #queer relationships #love has a lot of shapes

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aquaticstyles · 3 years

Text

unchained

A while ago I was asked for a “Have You Ever Been In Love” sequel, and while this is probably not the direction you guys were expecting, this is what I came up with. Also, this one’s (loosely) inspired by the song “Scott Street” by the lovely Phoebe Bridgers (highly recommend listening to the spotify sessions version while listening). Fun fact, for forever I misheard the lyrics, thinking she was saying “unchained” instead of “ashamed.” After noticing that I have, in fact, been wrong this entire time, I realized I kinda liked my version better (sorry Phoebe). And, me being me, I ran with it and it spun into this quick, 1.4k part two. Reblogs + feedback help so much! Enjoy!! xx, Jane

“Have you ever been in love?”

Harry’s heart stops.

The question catches him off guard, and not just because he’s not used to interviewers asking such personal ones (he guesses this is what he signed up for when he agreed to be the first male flying solo on the cover of Vogue). It makes his heart stop because of his answer, because of the woman that had once asked him the same exact question.

Harry has never been one to linger in his sadness; he finds it unproductive, and quite honestly, completely depressing. After a break up, one can find the caramel-colored curls belonging to the world’s latest phenomenon sweating out his sorrow, or frustration, at the gym, pounding the boxing bag again and again and again. “Nothing another set can’t fix,” his trainer, Mike, would often tease the man in denial, knowing good and well by his posture upon entering the ring, slumped shoulders and an ever-present crease between his eyebrows, that another one had bit the dust the night prior. Mike had learned fairly quickly to never ask questions, to simply let Harry work out his emotions as he pleases, even if that means letting him walk out with wrapped fists masking throbbing, crimson knuckles.

Harry has never been one to talk about his sadness either; he finds it prolongs the pain rather than diminishing it, an annoying gnat swarming around an abnormally large bite from a crisp apple, halting his progression in enjoying his afternoon snack because he just can’t catch the bloody thing. His sister has tried to break him from his stubborn ways, even resulting to getting the lanky man drunk off tequila in hopes of him finally opening up about his incessant missed targets; however, that only ever ends up with Gemma’s arms holding up the giggling teddy bear and folding his bulky body into a taxi, mimicking cramming a cotton ball into a straw. Therapy was suggested and waved off with an inked palm, because if he doesn’t want to talk to his sister about it, how on earth is he supposed to talk to a stranger?

Never-ending claims of “I’m fine,” and “It just didn’t work out,” and “Don’t worry ‘bout me,” and “It wasn’t even that serious.” Sure, each breakup took a little something out of the man that insisted he was “fine,” but eventually, a couple dozen inked journal pages later, Harry would be back to his normal, happy-go-lucky, perfectly-kind self.

All of these rang true for most of Harry’s young adulthood.

All of these were common occurrences, that is, until Harry met you.

You were unlike anyone he had ever met. Selfless, but not in an over-bearing, walk-all-over-me kind of way. Funny, but not in an underlying-hatred, fake-laugh kind of way. Genuine, but not in a look-at-me, fake kind of way. Honest, in a I-want-to-know-everything-that-makes-you-you, ask-you-questions-until-the-sun-rises kind of way. Drop-dead-gorgeous in the most unbelievable, glowing, ethereal, kind of way that he constantly reminded you of. You were the perfect balance, the missing diamond to even out the coal on the other end of the scale.

Loving you felt like the ocean.

In the morning when there’s a hazy screen covering your lenses, clouding the soft sunlight in a muted, white-washed filter. It’s more gray, yet still golden as the shining mass of fire lazily rises from its slumber. It’s calm, clouds stretched apart like cobwebs in the faded blue sky above, waves leisurely, almost too relaxed, crashing along the bleached shore then disappearing back into the horizon. Still sleepy, still new, an entire day ahead of you.

In the afternoon when the sun is at its highest and hottest, radiating down ultraviolet rays that burn your skin, causing alarmingly red shoulders in need of aloe that soon progressively heal and turn into a bronzed exterior. Speckles of light dancing upon excited waves, similar to a neighborhood of children dressed in pink polka dots and orange overalls running towards the ice cream truck filled to the brim with dreams of sugary stomachaches. It’s saturated, every color its brightest and loudest, pops of cerulean and coral. It’s a blanket of comfort, a suffocating scarf. It’s sweet. It’s sour. A cool glass of lemonade sinking into a bed of quicksand. Annoying and astonishing.

In the night, when the yellowing presence is long gone in the awakening of the moon, the deepest indigo swirling in between pockets of stars dotted and flecked into the atmosphere like freckles. It’s black and blue. You don’t know where the earth stopss and the water begins, familiarity lost as the waves erase each new footprint in the sand. The tide is an abuser, sweet as it sings you in, terrifying as it pulls you under. Skinny dipping, vulnerable, exciting, adrenaline, heart thumping, diving, sinking, drowning.

The morning, the afternoon, the night. The happening, the honeymoon, the heartbreak.

Ever since it ended, everything Harry had ever known was cast aside, thrown out like a Gucci jumper from last season. For the first time in his twenty-six years of living, fourteen of those juggling the obstacles that relationships can and will bring, Harry was irreversibly numb, a pair of frozen, gloveless fingertips blue from the icy wind. Not only did he linger in the gut-wrenching grief, he was absorbed by it. Instead of waking up each morning tucked into the bare side of your body diffusing innocent warmth, sipping a steaming cup of black coffee received by hands much smaller than his own, he woke up with a stranger laying on his chest, cold, with a pounding headache the bottle of whiskey had gladly supplied from the night before. The days felt as if they lasted an eternity, time stuck in slow-motion, tick, tick, ticking, one second, one and a half, one and three quarters, two. He watched the seasons pass, the grass dying and regenerating into its natural emerald shade from his bedroom, dust pocketing in the corners of a picture frame containing two pairs of sparkling eyes and genuine, toothy grins sitting on the windowsill. Nights consisted of him lying sleepless on his back, eyes wide awake, thumbs twiddling as the echoes of helicopters overhead drone in and out. Dozens of missed calls remained unanswered: Mum, Gem, Mitch, Mike, Adam, Sarah, Mum, Mum, Gem, Mum, Mike, Mitch, Gem, Mitch, Mum…

He was stuck, a pancake glued to an ungreased pan, charred. It was when this melancholy had prolonged for nearly its sixth month, and all at home remedies (which included drinking, writing, drinking because he was writing, and writing because he was drinking) failed to provide any peace that he decided to give in to the recommendations from almost every single one of his friends: therapy. After the first session, he was ready to book it and sprint off to a deserted island with nothing but a coconut filled with rum to accompany his solitude. Turns out that one session was the mento to his coca cola of bottled-up emotions, exploding months’ worth of buried feelings and memories in an hour. It took the will of God (and Gemma purposefully lying and telling him they were going to get lunch) to get Harry back in the baby-pink-painted interior of his therapist’s office. After months of talking, sorting, compartmentalizing, yelling, crying, healing, unpacking, and reflecting, Harry tackled down the closure he had been chasing. A year and an album later, when he heard your name, he no longer felt trapped, heart beating rapidly, trying desperately to break apart his ribcage, he felt unchained—a prisoner uncaged, pounds and pounds of metal unlocked from his wrists, free.

Before, your name was paired with a colorless photo album, snapshots of vibrancy draining into black and white, frozen, lifeless, still.

Now, your name resembled a film reel of the best moments, your sweater hanging in his closet, your arm thrown around his mother’s shoulder in a polaroid candid, your laugh echoing in the acoustics of his shower after you nearly slipped on the lavender bubbles coating sudsy toes, your hands massaging his scalp, twisting curls into detailed plaits, your foamy lips smushing against a stubbled cheek, leaving remnants of peppermint mocha in the winter air, your satin skirt contrasting from his purple flares in his backyard, playing thumb war and whispering confessions in the moonlight. The good memories built a brick wall to block out the bad, dimming the light of your downfall.

“Have you ever been in love?” The question echoes again in Harry’s ears, causing a grin and a dimple to pop into his cheek. The fuzzies. Once, twice, three times. Click, shake, tape.

“Yeah, I have.”

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klaineownsmysoul · 3 years

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Why does D agree to certain things? It’s probably because the alternative is worse but then I still don’t understand why he agreed to the sham. He could not have right? Idk what would have happened had he, but I feel anything is better than being married to her. All she does is ruin his reputation, and give him a straight image (to his team), so I genuinely wonder what image he wants for himself because if he didn’t go along with it, what else could they have painted him as that they haven’t already and continue to?

There are endless opinions on this, depending on who you ask. The m/iarren stans and the fans who believe that every message from D’s SM are actually from him will tell you that there was nothing to agree to because he loves her and wanted to marry her because he can’t live without her. They have a love that’s truer than true and are #couple goals. They are perfect for each other in every way and he adores her every breath and she’s just as devoted to him, which is why she follows him everywhere he goes. There’s nothing odd about the length of their relationship and the fact that no one involved in it can give you a consistent time frame. You ask 5 people how they met or when they started dating, you’ll get 5 different answers. All those pics of them together where she’s grabbing onto him and clutching at any limb within her reach are just her being affectionate. The fact that they sit like strangers on a subway during one part of an interview and when it’s noticed, the next part that’s released has both of them being all touchy feely is just coincidence. The dude bro slang and emoji filled posts are just him having fun and being spontaneous. They’re cheeky and silly. Its just him living his best life and there’s nothing forced or untoward about it. He loves only hanging out with her trashy besties and spending nights entertaining the masses in her piano baby/lifelong dream business that she can’t be bothered to promote or run while he accompanies her on the piano looking completely lifeless as she drunkenly butchers one of the 4 songs she knows and thinks she can sing. He’s just being a supportive partner when he talks about the awful branded merchandise from the strip bar during a tv segment that’s supposed to be about his career and then models it later on in a cute coupley pic where he looks like his soul has just left his body. Having her accompany his every move is just what married couples do or didn’t you know that? It’s not natural for one partner to do something without the other, especially if it’s career related. All celeb couples are joined at the hip once they officiate their own wedding. All celeb couples have a wedding - or a great party as it’s sometimes known as - that is corporate sponsored to within an inch of its life. All celeb couples who have one person say they didn’t want to be in a public relationship have a cover story done in Vogue magazine and then have their pr team make sure the link to that article is noted and shared in practically every print interview done for the other person for over a year. This is all completely normal behavior for a 100% believable couple.

There are no such things as contracts that dictate behavior and managers and pr teams don’t post things on their client’s behalf. Lavender relationships and marriages are a thing of the past. No one would dare impose something like that on a celeb in 2021. It must be nice to be that naive. Or sad. Mostly sad. If you believe that, then you haven’t been listening to the stories of celebs who’ve been closeted and decided to come out at the risk of their career. It’s a thousand times easier to market someone as straight - there’s no denying that. And when you’re young and just starting out, you have no leverage whatsoever and will go along with what people tell you to do. If you don’t, you don’t have a career. It’s as simple and evil as that. They hold all the cards and if you want to be a musician or an actor, you have to play by their rules. You sign a deal and before you know, everything has snowballed and you’re in so deep, you don’t know how to begin to climb out. Look at Taylor Swift and the mess she’s gone through with her songs and she’s one of the biggest singers on the planet. Whether you’re a fan or not, you know who she is. If she can’t get control over songs that she freaking wrote because of a shitty contract she signed when she was like 16 without massive amounts of legal issues, what hope do the people who are less famous have? Look at what D said about his lack of input on the evolution of Blaine’s hair and how he didn’t want to rock the boat. Something as simple as that and he didn’t feel like he could or should speak up. Now apply that same mentality to a legal document and think about how hard it would be to try to countermand any part of it, especially when you’re as young as he was then.

D’s team is particularly troublesome because they’re lazy and incompetent and have no interest in marketing him as he really is. The easy way out is the straight way out and that’s their lane. That’s the one they’ve chosen and they will ride that till the wheels fall off. Let’s be honest: D is all RR has. He’s going to milk every drop he can out of D while he can. There’s no celeb out there with an established career who’s considering new management who looks at D’s situation: the circus that is always around him, the garbage that’s posted on his SM in his name, the endless ads for things like ugly ass jewelry and a paid promo pic for a 5 star hotel in the Philippines from the group honeymoon (not a thing) that they crashed after D spent days sifting through garbage with women who live in abject poverty and will never make the kind of money that even a meal at that hotel would cost which totally makes him look awesome - and think “yes! This is what’s been missing all along. Where do I sign?” He’s not getting a free home reno and some TV time from the girl who played Luna in the HP movies and B/ecca T/obin - someone who played a forgettable and unremarkable bitchy blond cheerleader (def breaking the mold there, totally not a trope that can be found in every 80s high school movie or tv show) and now hosts a ridiculous podcast. So he’s going to push his own agenda and make sure that everyone knows his client is straight at every opportunity that’s presented and foist his bride in our faces at even more opportunities just in case it wasn’t clear because oh my god did you hear that D is straight? And he’s been dating this super cool rockstar woman since he was an embryo so there’s no way anything could have ever happened between him and someone else from this show he was on for a while. It wasn’t a big deal or anything. He had a small role and a love interest but they weren’t real popular. I mean if you’ve seen one gay teenage romance, you’ve seen them all. The show’s been over for 5 years and they’re hardly ever mentioned now so there’s no point in keeping them alive. It’s not a role that meant anything to him and it’s certainly not something he would want to celebrate the 10 year anniversary of. I wonder if he was allowed to do that as long as managed to shoehorn in a mention of his lovely ball and chain of many moons. Because that’s what always happens. Doesn’t matter what the topic at hand is - it always seems to come back around to her. And she just smirks and flashes her fake engagement ring at the camera and eats it up because he does all the work and she reaps all the rewards. Like RR, she’ll never give him up without a fight because what then? No one will write articles about what a badass she is. No one will be there to do free promo for her strip bar. No more red carpet pics or designer duds gifted to her. No more free trips to Europe or last minute weekend getaways with his stylist. No one will care about her super secret Instagram account and post pics from it that she’s forwarded over so they get picked up and pumped out to news blogs for maximum coverage. No more pics with actual famous people because who’s inviting a career less nobody to events? She’s a woman in her mid 30s who behaves like an 18 year old on spring break and thinks nothing of it. She doesn’t give a shit how her behavior reflects on D because she doesn’t care about him. All she cares about is what he can provide her and that’s secondhand fame, money, and the image of the best wife to ever wife. But if he was single, then there’d be even more questions about his sexual orientation than there are now and no way to refute anything. So we get this clusterfuck. What they fail to understand is that the harder they push, the more holes they create and the more distasteful this all becomes. I just want to be a fan of D. That’s all I want. But I can’t do that because he comes with a front and center “work family” that I can’t get away from.

I sometimes don’t know what he wants for himself image wise but I truly don’t think it’s this. The difference between in person D and SM D is too great for me to believe he’s really cool with all of it. I don’t know how many more times he has to say that he’s rarely on SM, which should be the reddest of red flags that most of the stuff posted is not coming from him. The fact that he’s taken to SM to rebuff things said in his name that are patently false and insulting reinforces that belief for me. He’s not perfect but he’s not the fake barely literate guy he’s portrayed as. I wouldn’t still be here if I thought that’s who he really was and I wouldn’t care at all about his personal life if it wasn’t shoved down my throat ad naseum.

Well this post kinda got away from me. 😊. I’m so very tired of all this and if I’m tired, D must be exhausted.

#pathetic and obvious table for one please #Hollywood is effing toxic #he deserves so much better

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leadrains · 2 years

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movie recs?

i will literally watch anything so idk how good u can say my taste is but earlier some1 asked me what my favorite movies are so now theyre on the top of my head

rocketman - musical biopic about elton john (musical drama)

the rocky horror picture show - queer alien frankenstein stuff?? idk how to describe it (horror comedy sci fi)

paris is burning - it's a documentary but it's abt the vogue ball scene in new york, filmed during the 80s (doc)

what we do in the shadows - mockumentary about vampires (horror comedy fantasy)

scream - slasher about high schoolers being targeted by a masked man like every single slasher is but this one is just Different ok it is so special to me (horror comedy)

the lost boys - the way it's written is kinda weird to process but basically it's about an evil homoerotic vampire gang in the 80s (horror comedy fantasy)

get out - a black man visits his white girlfriend's family for a few days in a rural area but begins to suspect that there's something dark going on (horror thriller)

crimson peak - a rich girl in like 1900 sees ghosts and then she marries a weird british guy and moves into his fucked up house with his weird sister and sees more ghosts (horror drama fantasy)

parasite - a family pretends not to know each other so that they can all con their way into jobs working for an extremely rich family but shit gets really weird (horror? thriller drama)

pan's labyrinth - a little girl in 1940s spain moves to a military outpost with her mother and stepfather and discovers a scary magic labyrinth (horror drama fantasy)

the boys in the band - several gay men in the 60s throw a birthday party but things get tense as the night goes on (drama)

concrete cowboy - a troubled teen is sent to live with his father in a small town where a community of black modern cowboys reside and struggle to maintain their lifestyles (drama)

the princess bride - a fairy tale about love and sword fights and whatever idk i feel like any way to describe it spoils it but if u havent seen it...... watch it (fantasy comedy)

moulin rouge - a jukebox musical about forbidden love between a courtesan and a writer (drama? comedy)

moonlight - a coming of age (?) film about a gay black man (drama)

this is kind of a lot but i also feel like im missing so many

anyways i would recommend checking doesthedogdie for any potential triggers

#the first 5 are my favorites for the record #not in that order #anywayz #asks #film student (derogatory)

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hazzabeeforlou · 3 years

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So Toni’s hot take preempting the backlash of “Of CoURsE HaRrY alWaYs GeTs ThE BeSt tHinGs” is that 1) he’s had THREE hit singles from HS2 air on pop radio stations for months now, 2) there’s lots of ways celebrities could spend that capital as in, some kinda sexy photo shoot setting them up for a hottest hunk award or something to further increase their popularity, but 3) did Harold do that? NOPE he goes on a vogue cover in a BALL GOWN read that again Harry Hearthrob Styles IS ON VOGUE’S COVER IN A BALLGOWN made by a gender fluid designer, this is big this is brave this is important I don’t wanna see ANYONE saying he’s baiting or teasing or attention grabbing, no, no one wears a ball gown to get hets to lust after them and buy their music, this is personal and important to him and typical interview aside, I’m astonished and so so proud 🌈

#have i seen them yet? no. do i know theyre coming? yes #miss me with it

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et-lesailes · 5 years

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thirst tweets

pairing: chris evans x celeb!reader

word count: 1750

summary: you and your boyfriend chris read thirst tweets for buzzfeed, but chris finds himself getting a little jealous.

themes: jealous!chris, poorly made up thirst tweets by moi, fluff :)

taglist: @viarogers , @evanstush , @chibi-crazy , @chalamet-evans , @world-of-losers , @songforhema, @sebabestianstan101 , @tanyam93 , @b-val1, @wonderwinchester , @little-miss-exo, @poerebel , @bitchbabes-world , @gogomez-509 , @patzammit

note: requested by anonymous // who would have thought that for someone so thirsty writing thirst tweets for a story would still be so difficult. also this is the very first time i’m using “Y/N” in a fic, i normally prefer not to but i figured it made more sense for a fic like this!

“Alright, let’s do this.” Chris declared with a grin, pointing at the camera with a playful wink. You laughed as you nodded your head, just as excited-- the two of you were with BuzzFeed, participating in their famous “Celebs Read Thirst Tweets” video, and being both a couple and a part of the Avengers cast made it all the more fun. “So we’re reading them to each other?” you clarified with the camera crew, giggling slightly at the thought. “That’s right. You read it to the other person as if you wrote it yourself. And-- you have to keep a straight face while you do it.” They confirmed, and both of you laughed loudly upon the thought, clearly liking this game. “Okay, okay. So we’ll switch off,” Chris decided, looking at you with a grin. “Wanna go first, babe?”

“Oh, yes. This is gonna be good,” you laughed, reaching into the container filled with the printed slips of tweets designated for him. Taking one out, you read it to yourself and almost busted out laughing right then and there, but you instead cleared your throat and looked up at him seriously. “Chris Evans could decapitate me and my severed head would be lying there saying thank you daddy.” He blinked before laughing loudly, his hand, of course, going straight for his left pec. “What?! Where did they even come up with that? God, that’s great. Uh, thank you. I think.” He looked to the camera with a wide smile, his blue eyes flickering with amusement. “Okay, my turn.” Reaching into the container, he pulled out a slip of paper, looking down at it-- he was already smiling just from reading it, but he looked back up towards you, keeping a straight face. “[Y/N] could kick me in the balls and I’d probably jizz.” The second he said it, he couldn’t help himself; he burst out laughing and you laughed along with him. “Oh my God,” you giggled, looking towards the camera. “Okay, well, I’m not going to do that. For more reasons than one, apparently.”

The video went on, and each tweet became funnier and more vulgar than the previous one. Despite being the great actor he was, Chris was definitely worse than you when it came to staying serious; he was the type of guy who couldn’t help but express himself, and this was definitely the case with his laughter and infamous left boob grab.

“I want to wear Chris Evans’ beard as underwear.”

“I thought I was straight until I saw [Y/N’s] latest photoshoot for Vogue. I’d be wet if she just breathed on me.”

“Can Chris Evans just suffocate me with those thick biceps? Is that too much to ask for?”

“[Y/N’s] legs are already perfect but they’d look even more perfect wrapped around my neck just saying.”

The two of you were already having a blast, but then the video moved on to couple thirst tweets-- you hadn’t even been aware that such a thing existed. “There’s thirst tweets about both of us together?” you asked incredulously, glancing up at Chris with amusement. “Like, fans wanting to have a threesome with us or something?” The producer chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. “Why don’t you read them and find out?” Now curious, you took the container one of the crew members handed to you, looking at the camera with a little intrigued grin before slipping one of the pieces of paper out. “It’d be one thing to be in front of Chris Evans or [Y/N], but how do people not pass out from the overwhelming beauty and perfection of just being in the presence of both of them together??” you read, then widened your eyes as you looked back up at the camera. “Aw! Oh my God, that’s so sweet, but please, it takes a village to make us look picture perfect, okay?” You looked up at your boyfriend before rolling your eyes playfully, adding, “Well, for me, anyways.” Chris scoffed in response, putting you in a playful chokehold and ignoring your squeals and giggles. “Ignore her, she looks this damn perfect all the time-- and trust me, it does make me want to pass out.”

“Uh-huh,” you replied to his cheesy response, though both of you knew you loved it. He chuckled and let go of you, taking a paper out himself. “My sexual orientation is seeing the way Chris and [Y/N] look at each other. Heart eye emoji, heart eye emoji, heart eye emoji.” He added, then grinned as he saw pictures come up on screen of the two of you at different events, gazing adoringly at each other. “Oh, geez, those look so staged for some reason but they’re so real, I swear.” He laughed, putting the paper down so he could wrap both of his arms around you. “Man, baby, we’re pretty fuckin’ cute aren’t we?” You smiled fondly as you looked at the pictures, chuckling in amusement. “I didn’t even realize we did that. But that is pretty cute, I have to admit. Can fans send us these pictures or something? We need more to decorate our home with, and I swear you guys have more photos of us than we do,” you joked, eyes twinkling as you looked towards the camera.

Just like the previous segment, the tweets were becoming more and more descriptive.

“I bet [Y/N] and Chris have mindblowing sex. What a lucky son of a bitch!”

“Chris looks like he’s such a good kisser, damn [Y/N] good for you girl!”

“Yo those gifs of [Y/N] from that sex scene in her new movie though, I bet that girl’s freaky in bed… Chris care to comment???”

“If I was [Y/N] I’d literally never be able to keep my hands and/or any of my other body parts off of that beautiful man no matter where we were. Props to her for having way more self control than I could ever have LOL.”

“[Y/N] if you and Chris ever break it off please give me a chance, I swear I’d love you down so hard.”

You noticed an ever-so-subtle change in Chris’ expression upon reading the last one, and you wished you had never even read it. The two of you had practically been on autopilot from all the fun you were having, not even bothering to read them to yourselves first but instead just blurting them out loud. Still, he would not show he was upset; the two of you were on camera, after all, but you could read him well by now to know it rubbed him the wrong way. How could it not? You were a bit bothered that the producer had even put it in there, but as you saw the crew laughing, it seemed like they saw nothing wrong with it. The two of you were able to end the video smoothly, still smiling for the cameras and joking around, but once it was over, his expression fell slightly. You said somewhat rushed goodbyes and thank yous to the crew before taking a hold of his arm, lightly pulling him aside to a more private area.

“Babe, don’t be upset about that last one, that entire tweet was just dumb okay? It’s not like we’re actually breaking up.”

He sighed, clearly annoyed as he ran his fingers through his dirty blond hair. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but then after that one it just got me thinking about every tweet. I mean, why do these little pricks think that they can just.. I dunno, think about you like that? You’re my girlfriend, not theirs.”

The pout on his face was adorable-- in fact, his boyish grumbling was adorable, but you knew the last thing he wanted was to be called that right now. Still, you couldn’t help but smile as you stood on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek, wrapping your arms around his neck. “It doesn’t matter, Chris, you’re the one who has me. Not them. And don’t call them pricks, they’re fans, they support us! ...In their own, weird way.” You giggled, and he looked even more grumpy, muttering, “Well they shouldn’t say such crude stuff about you. That’s not how you talk about a lady. Especially not one as beautiful as you. And why does it seem like they’re all trying to say they can fuck you better than I can or something? Doesn’t it seem like that?”

“I think you’re overanalyzing it, baby. But even if that is what they think, they’re wrong.” You insisted, sighing softly as you ran your fingers through his hair, though unable to help but chuckle quietly at how worked up he was-- you couldn’t help but think it was cute how protective and defensive he got over you. “Besides, if you want me to prove how much I love you fucking me, I’d be more than happy to…” you murmured playfully, pressing a kiss to his chin. That made him smile a little bit, though he still looked a bit dark overall. “Mm. I just don’t want people talking about you like that anymore. Only I’m allowed to,” he muttered somewhat childishly, though the corner of his lips were barely tugged upwards, indicating that he wasn’t being fully serious. You smiled in return, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Are you really so jealous that you just basically ignored me inviting you to have sex with me?” you asked playfully, and he blinked a few times before finally cracking a wider smile, sighing as he suddenly scooped you up in his arms. “Jesus. Something really must be wrong with me, huh?”

“Yes, but… your jealousy’s kinda cute.” You admitted, giggling as you securely wrapped your legs around him. “Come on, let’s go back home. Dodger’s waiting for us.” He smiled upon the mere thought of sharing cuddles with you and his adorable canine best friend, nodding his head with another heavy sigh. “Alright. But just know that when we get home I’m tweeting a selfie of both of us just to further clarify that you’re mine.” He leaned in to kiss you lovingly, still easily holding you in his arms. “I have absolutely no issue with that,” you giggled softly against his lips as you kissed him back, giving in to the luxury of the muscular man carrying you outside to the car, just as excited as him to go home and cuddle up on the couch.

#chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fluff #chris evans fic #chris evans x you #requests #ok so for some reason it's showing the story part as a link???#to someone on my taglist?#but when i edit it its not showing up #idfk i hate tumblr #so sorry if its weirdly like that for you too

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