#I think it was mostly to get me to stop cluttering up General but I love it

[thepurplewombat]

#Tgcf #tgcf hualian #Xie Lian is adorable #I love him so much #The mods gave me my own channel on the Snape discord to yell about books #I think it was mostly to get me to stop cluttering up General but I love it #It's like livetweeting books #And my friends come and check it out occasionally and they're like #Idk what's going on here but there is tea being spilled and I'm here for it #Anyway currently it's wombat's danmei hours in there #I'm livechatting undead as I read it #Fun story #hua cheng #Xie Lian #Books #Tgcf spoilers #I guess #I'm not sure 'they make out' is a spoiler in a danmei but better safe than sorry

[rosewaterandivy]

stop making plans / start making sense

Summary: eddie finds himself smack dab in the middle of an ap english iv class, all because some do-gooders at Hawkins High happen to “believe in him” or whatever. the catch? it just so happens to be your ap english class.

A continuation of this blurb and the result of an ongoing eddie munson hc convo with @powderblueblood 💚

Warnings: eddie’s senior year 2.0, no Upside Down, scary smart debate team captain reader, NHS president and tutor nancy wheeler, ap music theory nerd and general nuisance robin buckley, pretentiousness alert - you have been warned!

W.C.: 1771

It’s his second time around as a senior, not even the first week of school under his belt when Mrs. Meloy calls him into her office. The counseling center, which he is unfortunately far too familiar with, is busy as it usually is at the beginning of the year— schedule changes, registration, students complaining about not getting late arrival or early dismissal. Before he can settle in one of the worn chairs by the door, a woman pops her outside of an office door. She glances around, blue eyes searching for someone or something, before landing on Eddie.

“Think the wall can hold itself up just fine Edward,” She calls as she opens the door to her office and waves him in.

He grouses at the use of his full name and rolls his eyes, languidly strolling into the smaller room that smells overwhelmingly of cinnamon.

“Go ahead and make yourself comfortable.”

She’s turned around, fingers flicking through thick manilla files in the cabinet in front of her. A cup of coffee sits on her cluttered desk, cold, from the looks of it. Mrs. Meloy mutters under her breath before turning from the filing cabinet in annoyance.

“It’s only the first week of school,” Eddie points out, “I haven’t done anything.”

The yet between them goes unspoken.

The older woman merely raises a knowing brow and takes her seat opposite him. She sorts through a few loose papers on her desk before letting out a surprised huff, “Gotcha!” Flipping through the file, his file, Eddie supposes, her eyes scan over what is undoubtedly his lack of academic achievement.

Satisfied with her perusal, she sets the papers down on her desk and addresses him.

“Round two.” Mrs. Meloy begins, resignedly. “Hopefully the NHS tutoring placement will be to your benefit Mr. Munson. Miss Wheeler is an exemplary student and I have high hopes for you under her tutelage.”

She then runs through his current schedule, emphasizing the classes he needs to perform well in (mostly all of them, save for English and a few others).

“Which brings me to the reason for our meeting today,” she says with a smile. “It has not escaped my notice, nor that of Mrs. Seguin, that you are quite adept in English class. At least,” she qualifies with a pull of her lips, “When properly motivated.”

And yeah, okay, he was decidedly not trying all that hard in Mrs. S.’s senior English class last year and he breezed through with a respectable A minus.

Wayne even got a little choked up when he read that particular report card.

“I guess so,” he says with a cross of his arms.

“Rather than having you repeat the same content and curriculum this year, Mrs. Seguin and I have petitioned the principal for permission to move you into a more challenging and appropriate English class.”

Well, that perks him right up.

“Principal Higgins has agreed to the change, with a few stipulations.”

Of fucking course.

The gist of it is, Eddie’s admittance to the AP English IV class will be probationary for the first quarter, given his past exploits and record. If he can keep his grades at a respectable B across the board, Eddie will be permanently placed in Mrs. Seguin’s advanced class. If he can’t, it’s back to regular Senior English with that crone, Mrs. Cotter.

Easy peasy.

And he’s almost out the door when Meloy stops him with a furitive, “Eddie,” and pauses to look him in the eye. “We believe in you and we went to the mat with Higgins on this.” She says emphatically, standing up to escort him through the office, “You can do this, Eddie, we know you can.”

She smiles and sends him off with his newly revised schedule, the summer reading assignment, and information for Wayne to peruse about Advanced Placement courses.

The rest of that day unfolded as expected despite his new schedule. Slight differences were made, such as: Eddie sitting in the middle of the class instead of the back, hopefully next to Buckley or Wheeler if he could swing it.

With Nancy’s help, he was able to narrow the summer reading options down to books that would hold his interest. The librarian, Ms. Berkowitz, was more than happy to oblige him with checking out a copy of Notes from the Underground by some Russian dude whose name Eddie couldn’t possibly pronounce.

The bell for the final class of the day rang just as he slipped through Mrs. Seguin’s door.

“Timely as ever,” she teased and kicked the door stop into the classroom.

Her room was the same as last year, but the mood within was markedly different— more relaxed and at ease. Students sat where they pleased and chatted amongst themselves while Mrs. S. checked off the roll and fielded a few questions from the group.

Eddie settled in the only open seat right in between Nancy and yourself. He tried not to be offended that you didn’t even glance up from your furious scribbling on the page, seemingly writing a mile a minute, as if you couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

Ink smeared on the college ruled paper underneath your hand.

Eddie found it endearing.

“Okay, okay, let’s get this show on the road.” Mrs. S. set her clipboard on the desk and leaned against it with a casual grace.

She was one of the newer teachers to Hawkins High, from some big name school out west with not one, but two degrees framed on the wall behind her desk. She was young and quick to laugh; the older teachers were a bit weary of her and those “new agey” teaching philosophies, but the results produced were proof enough for her to granted the AP English III and IV courses for this year. According to Nancy, she’d only had AP juniors and regular seniors last year.

Eddie, being one of those regular students, would know.

“Alright, hopefully we’ve brought in our summer reading novels today. The goal is to break you all into thematic groups based on your selected text. From there, you will collaborate with your peers to create a presentation on your findings.”

With this, she steps away from her desk and begins writing on the chalkboard.

“Consider such things as character archetype, thematic resonance, literary merit, of course. But more importantly,” she says, turning to the class with a smile, “How did the story affect you? What new perspective or insights were gained? What concepts were reinforced? Did you despise the protagonist, or did you identify too closely with them?”

The class has fallen to a hush, you’ve stopped writing and are rapt with attention. Eddie, used to overworked teachers and coaches who could care less, is shocked.

“I remind you, as always, that there are no right or wrong answers in here. As long as you can support your interpretation—” She begins.

“With evidence from the text,” The class choruses in reply.

“Good, exactly.”

At that, students break away into smaller groups and begin talking in hushed tones about the project.

“Whatcha got there?”

This, from Robin, who unceremoniously plucks Eddie’s book from his grasp. She flips through it, eyes lighting in interest, just as Mrs. Seguin makes her way over.

“Eddie, always good to see you.”

“Right back at ya, Mrs. S.”

She smirks, eyeing Robin scanning through Dostoevsky. “Had a feeling you’d gravitate toward the nihilists. Got a chance to start reading yet?”

He swipes the book back from Robin and ignores her petulant pout.

“Uh, kinda. Started it during lunch today.”

She nods knowingly, “Well, I’m sure you’ll be caught up in no time.” Surveying the classroom she nods to herself, “And now that I think of it,” She turns back to Eddie, “Looks like you’re in the right group over here.”

He almost says there is no group over here, but then he notices Nancy and Robin chatting with you. Feeling his stare, you turn back from where you’ve set up shop on Robin’s desk and jerk your head, an invitation by any other name.

“C’mon Munson, we don’t have all day.” You say this softly, chidingly, with no real heat behind it. Your eyes narrow as a group gets particularly loud across the way, “Because I’m certainly not about to let Phillips show us up.”

“Oh, bite me!” Phillips crows from his desk.

“You wish, you cretin!”

Eddie does his best to hide the curl of his lips and stifle a laugh while Phillips sulks at his desk.

Robin thumbs through a worn copy of Nausea while Nancy talks Eddie through the plan thus far. She’s read The Death of Ivan Ilyich and come to the conclusion that the novels in the group are both deeply depressing and deal with themes of existentialism, and in some cases, nihilism.

“I dunno. Philosophy is all well and good, but,” you pipe up, “Mine had elements of magical realism and a satirical critique of Soviet Russia.”

Eddie attempts to process what you and Wheeler have just said. Sensing a lull in the conversation, you slyly pass your novel over to Eddie and start to take notes over whatever it is Nancy is rambling on about.

The Master and Margartia.

Huh, weird title.

He reads the blurb on the back cover and kind of regrets not choosing this one to read. Maybe you’ll let him borrow it after the project is over. Setting it back on your desk, Eddie peruses the syllabus Mrs. S. must’ve slipped him.

“So, will that work for you Eddie?”

Lost in a daze of genres and titles, he looks up. “Sorry, what was that?”

Nancy sighs, “We’re going to meet at my house on Thursday for a study group. I know you and Mike have that thing on Fridays, so.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks Wheeler; that’ll work.”

With a smile, she goes back to chatting with Robin.

“Psst.”

A neatly folded paper lands on his desk. Eddie glances at you, curious, taking in your arched brow and smirk.

Scary smart, he reminds himself as he unfurls the page.

I know Nance is your NHS tutor, but if you feel like you need to catch-up for this class, give me a call.

Your deft hand and neatly printed letters dance across the page, an errant smear of ink where the heel of your hand drug across the paper. The digits of your phone number underneath your missive make his heart race.

Annotating your copy of Dune without permission was one thing. And at that you didn’t even bat an eye, but this…

Well, this had potential.

He tries not to let the possibility of what if turn to ash in his mouth.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic

[infamous-if]

I’m curious what the RO’s homes/bedrooms look like because I think it can tell a whole lot about someone 🤔

I'M GLAD YOU ASKED. I was actually ruminating over what Sev's room/apartment, in particular, would look like the other day.

Seven's room is very dark to me. Black walls, a lot of band posters plastered everywhere. It's a mess but an organized mess. Very much what a music enthusiast's room would look like in a 2000s teen movie lol. They've never grown out of the 'fanboy/fangirl' phase so they'd just have posters all over, they have a dresser of vintage records on one side and a mirror full of photo booth pictures and photos of their life tacked to it. Their bed is never made, mostly because Seven is always in bed when they're home. Seven has clothes strewn just about everywhere but they claim to know where everything is. A lot of ripped-out pages of scrapped out song lyrics on the floor. My imagination of Seven's songwriting process is a lot of pacing, a lot of humming. They get their best ideas while doing other stuff like cleaning and cooking. Outside of their room, their apartment is also messy with a lot of novels strewn about. Seven is very sentimental so every gift they've ever gotten is on display. Their bathroom is clean but messy; just a lot of hair products and makeup everywhere. Seven's "I just rolled out of bed" look is a stylistic choice lmao

I can imagine Sev being a very annoying neighbor to have since they always have music on and they're always singing. Seven has never actually cleaned their place quickly because of all the times they stop to have a mini concert in their living room. Seven is fun when they're alone lol

Orion's is expectantly clean and very minimalist. His room is barren, a plain black bed with a metal headboard. He always has incense burning and has an air purifier and a lot of tech. Everything is spotless and there's not anything out of place. Orion's place is a lot of dark furniture, a lot of leather, and a lot of gray and white in terms of looks. He has a large glass balcony that he likes to do work on in the mornings. I imagine him to have a large closet with all just suits on one side and just...straight up black clothes on the other. Orion isn't one to wear anything colorful. His neighbors love him and want to connect with him but Orion is not interested lol More than a few times he'd come home and just plops himself on his couch and falls asleep due to how tired he was.

Sebastian's home is large but sparsely decorated. He has a big TV to play his video games on and it's what you'd think is a stereotypical young guy's place: brown couch, some video game memorabilia, and some sports stuff. He has a huge gamer computer setup he built himself. He uses it for games and for coding and general data stuff. Sebastian likes displaying all of his goodies and stuff and he doesn't touch Maya's room, which is much like Seven's in that it's super cluttered with music stuff and posters. Sebastian's house is what a default sims house looks like: nothing stylish, just generic furniture.

Victoria and G's is luxurious that leans more to anything that they like they just toss it in there. Huuuuge with plushy colorful couches and overpriced designer furniture. OH! If anyone has seen Cara Delevigne's AD...that's what their house would look like. Just chaotic everywhere with so many knickknacks and things that it's like an assault on your every single sense. Funky wallpapers, leopard rugs. A lot of that, surprisingly, is G's doing. G was very set on designing their house. They're barely home and live mostly in hotels anyway so it doesn't really matter.

August's is pretty generic; gray walls, purple bed. They live with their family (August was supposed to live with a roommate but I changed it to better fit their route) and Clare tends to be the messy one. I would say August's room is half and half, it's pretty empty but what they do have takes up a lot of space like their drum set and their huge speakers. The house is big (August's parents are pretty well-off as politicians) and very Grecian in appearance. August doesn't have much knickknacks and things like Seven. They're pretty detached to sentimental things like that. It's a very standard room, the centerpiece definitely being their drums. They have a huge computer set up, though, like a gamer set up like Seb's but they don't use it for games lmao

#reference #? #infamous cast #inbox #most questions have been very curious about the cast as people now rather than in relation to MC #fun!

[finniestoncrane]

a particularly nasty ask, but! different riddlers response to seeing a pair of used underwear left out?

Used Underwear

Riddler Headcanons i love nasty asks though so this does it for me >:) 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: gross boys being gross, pervert behaviour

gotham

would it kill you to tidy up after yourself?

you're lucky he's a tidy little bean and loves acts of service

because otherwise, you'd be getting an intense lecture

and a reminder that dirty underwear belongs in the laundry basket

no other thoughts cross his sweet little mind

young justice

stopped in his tracks just by the presence of them, heart racing

the absolute bother this is causing him, morally and ethically

because they are just lying there, but that's not an excuse

but he can't really stop thinking about just touching them

and by the time he's decided, you've already tidied them up

twojar

honestly, this isn't that big of a surprise to him

when you're this slutty, used underwear all around is the norm

sometimes they appear in places you'd never guess

doesn't mean he's not going to take a quick sniff

just to see if he can place who they belong to, a real talent actually

unburied

uh... ok, yes, they are used and dirty BUT...

it's not that weird if he tries them on right?

i mean it's basically like getting to second base with someone

and they look kinda cute, so they'll definitely suit him

and look at that, they're his now, once he washes them obviously

dano

terrible boy views this as a gift from the gods, like fate

he's drooling at the sight, fingers twitching as he looks around

just making sure no one is going to see what he's about to do

rubbing them on his face, inhaling the scent, tongue tasting them

and then into his pocket they go, for future use

btaa

this is not conducive to a productive environment

a cluttered space is a cluttered mind

and his mind is cluttered with distracting and filthy thoughts

so if you wouldn't mind removing those from the room

and then also removing the ones you're currently wearing...

arkham

oh but when he leaves his filthy clothes lying around it's annoying

whatever, he's over it pretty quickly

mostly because the realisation that you only have like three pairs

and it was only laundry day down in the sewers yesterday

so you're going commando, no? would you like to prove him right?

telltale

look, he's tutting and shaking his head since he can't abide mess

but... he would be lying if he said it was tempting

to just take a quick sniff, a reminder of your scent

so he'll tidy them away for you, without complaining

but he'll get his jollies as a reward for his generous patience

capullo

he's not even going to try and hide his disgusting reaction

face buried in the crotch, might as well be wearing them as a mask

and if you happen to walk in on him, then get ready for a lecture

you shouldn't have left them around! it was practically an invitation

so could you kindly please either join him or leave him in peace

#finnie writes #riddler x reader #riddler x you #riddler headcanon #ridler scenario #gotham riddler #arkham riddler #young justice riddler #dano riddler #zero year riddler #batman unburied riddler #bu riddler #telltale riddler #twojar riddler #riddler #the riddler #btaa riddler

[coldtrait]

how i keep myself motivated in playing sims 4

i’m no sims expert but i’m writing this post to share how i usually play my game and maybe it may help people.

NOTE: some of this may NOT apply to you, and if you feel that you don’t resonate with it then that’s fine. i may mention some mods and cc ahead since i play on pc.

rotational gameplay & aging off

i have a lot of households on my save, and when i’m bored of one, i go to another. each household is a different story, different chaos and different atmosphere. i play with aging off, and age them up manually so i don’t feel rushed.

if i want to, i can turn aging on for active household.. why i enjoy rotational gameplay is that it feels like the worlds come to life. when i’m playing with a household and bring them to a community lot, i will see my other households i’ve played with and feel familiar with them coz i know how their life and how their story goes but they’re just there hanging out on their own while i’m playing with another household.

have a main save file and stick to it, don’t discard it.

i believe many people do this. i think this is quite crucial for me personally. starting a new one every time kind of always demotivate me because you have to restart again.

if you’re bored of that save file you can create another one for fun but don’t ignore your main one especially when you’ve worked hard on it.

renovate renovate

recently i have this household that i felt so bored of, and i realise it’s because of the house. not like there’s anything wrong with the house… but, it’s just been like that for a pretty long time. after i renovated it, it feels so brand new and more lived-in, and since it’s new to the eyes, i felt refreshed and more willing to play through that household again. i added some clutters and stuff, and just sat there, doing some subtle renovations, changed wallpapers and stuff.

don’t force yourself to know your sims fully

i know it sounds weird to say this because you’re the one who created them. sometimes when you create a sim , built a house, you may be like “ok so, what now?” well, that’s quite common. the sim that you’ve created, it’s okay if you don’t feel connected with them. in the early games, they can be like a stranger to you, so it’s good to be curious as you go along.

maybe put it like this— your sims are not a blank canvas, they’re a canvas with colours and identity but they’re not revealed yet. take your time with gameplay to find out more about them :)

stop having ‘same face’ sims

i know we all have a specific style when we create our sims. there’s no wrong in experimenting with your sims faces, making them different from one another. i personally find face references on the internet very helpful or play with randomisations. i recommend zerbu’s more presets mods or custom sliders but that’s all up to one’s preference!

keep only the cc / mods that you will use.

this is just personal preference but if i find myself having too much cc, i sometimes overlook the things that the game already have. always tidy up your folders and keep things that you need in your game so you don’t feel overwhelmed with too much content.

personally, in my early game i only play vanilla. then i slowly add on some cc and mods if i find them necessary.

youtube creators recommendations

petey plays: he shows you very interesting ways on how to enjoy the game mostly WITHOUT cc or mods. sometimes, you’ll find out things you didn’t know through his videos too, or find out ways on how to play the game in ways you never thought of.

oshinsims: i get very inspired whenever i watch her gameplays. the way she’s connected with her sims is just amazing because she talks about them as if they’re real and you’ll get so engrossed with her storyline. also she plays the sims with minimal cc so sometimes you’ll get to know about the game a lot more through her videos too.

i also love watching random simmer’s current households and it can spark inspiration for gameplay

stop the game from generating townies

my sims don’t generate townies anymore because i pour the game with npc service sims, townies from the gallery and use a mod called ‘no random townies’ by zero and ‘sim spawner tool’ by carls guide. sometimes i’d use ‘carl.killrandoms’ cheat to delete all randomly generated townies but with zero’s mod , it already prevents a lot of autogenerated sims. don’t forget to keep adding sims from the gallery.

i recommend simsontherope !

make major changes

if things get too stale and there’s just no inspiration, make major changes. probably give them a full makeover, move them out of a region, have them cut ties with someone, break up with somebody, run away from home, or anything you’re too afraid of doing. maybe that might spark your inspiration and make things progress more

#ts4 gameplay tips #ts4 gameplay #sims 4 #ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4 tips

[i-mybrunettelady]

Commander, in the eyes of an ordinary Tyrian boy

Preface: hiii nyra i missed you and hii everyone, happy festival of the four winds! i’ve been on a ride in writing about my characters from the POV of others, so this is one in a series of those? they’re mostly cass-centered but he’s given me leeway to write this. generous, cassander. anyway, i love nyra sm

---

It’s supposed to be a nice, relaxing day off, Wyll thinks. He came here to trade with his parents, now when all of Tyria gathers at the Labyrinthine Cliffs, but it doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy the seaside he so rarely gets see. Alone. Some days there’s more people than sand, so he looks for his peace when there are fewer numbers cluttering the beach, like today. It’s supposed to be a nice, relaxing day off.

Seeing the Commander doesn’t really count as a relaxing day. Nice day, maybe - Gods know Divinity’s Reach doesn’t see a lot of her sometimes - but relaxing? Relaxing when she stands there, talking to someone in the shadow, with wet hair falling on her bare back, and he knows she could break his spine so very easily if she wanted to.

Oh, his friends will be so jealous when he tells them. She moves her dark hair and ties it back, revealing the straps to her swimsuit and the old, gnarly scar on her right shoulder. Early morning light brightens the red flesh on her hands, arms and legs. Her interlocutor says something and she laughs, shaking her head in response.

Wyll cannot look away. His eyes are glued to her, the power in her casually confident stance, in her arms, in the good mood of her laughter, in the all the gnarled, burned and healed flesh. Wyll was never a big boy anyway, but here, he feels smaller than the sand beneath his feet.

Gods, his friends will be so jealous.

Suddenly, the laughter stops. She turns her head in his direction and Wyll audibly gasps. She makes no effort to conceal the sound of her movements through the sand and walks casually, relaxed, in his direction, one brow lifted and her lips in a perpetually annoyed pout. There’s no clear emotion in her muted, purple eyes when she comes to tower of him.

“Hi,” she says, her tone calm. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“You’re the Commander.” He looks at her, mouth dry.

“My name’s Alysannyra,” she shrugs. “If you’re looking at me so intently, you might as well call me by my name.” There’s a hint of a joke in her voice, or so Wyll hopes. “So, anything I can help you with, kid?”

“I just wanted to say hi?” he mutters, looking at his feet.

“Well, you could just say hi back because I told you hi first--” He makes a noise between a chuckle and a giggle. “Okay, okay, I’m messing with you, but seriously now. Answer the question.”

“Can I be honest, Commander?” He takes a deep breath.

“Yeah, go for it.”

“I just saw you there and--” He points uselessly at the lengths of his arms, brain not really catching up that you shouldn’t call out people’s scars like that. “You’re just you and I didn’t expect to see you here--”

Thankfully, she nods in understanding and sighs, crouching. Her one thigh is stronger than he’ll ever be in his whole body.  “Listen, it’s kind of rude to stare at people’s scars. I understand why you did, though. You don’t often see someone as scarred as me out and about. Gods, even I myself don’t see it as revealed as I do now often. I'd just try not to do it next time. Who knows what the person may be thinking about it.”

“I know,” Wyll says, ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” she says, standing up. “Now if there’s nothing else--”

“My older sister,” Wyll suddenly replies, causing her to fix him with a look to continue. “Last attack on Divinity’s Reach, she got a injured. She survived, thank Dwayna, but now she has a big scar on her face because of it. People said it looked ugly and she’s not feeling her best about it. I think she’s really pretty, but..”

“I’m sorry your sister got injured,” she says solemnly. “I can’t heal her scar, but do you know what you can tell her? It’s her face now. Unless she wants to fight with her own face, she needs to accept it. Whatever face she’s had is gone and she has a new one. A gift, if you will. From Melandru, who made it possible for our skin to recover from what harmed it.”

“I’ll tell her,” Wyll promises. She waves at she walks away, settling next to a one-eyed green sylvari and stealing a kiss from him. Wyll’s heart beats wildly in his chest.

Oh, his friends are gonna be so jealous.

#gw2 #inspo birb has come to town #alysannyra #gw2 commander #pact commander #gw2 human #festival of the four winds #gw2 writing #gw2 fic #i missed writing nyra omg #wyll: is afraid of her #nyra: cracks jokes #gremlin behavior really #there's such a vibe to her that i love sm #and im so grateful you guys do as well #also observe the rbf <3

[starry-pierrot]

TF: Rise of the beasts review.

So first off I'm just gonna say this movie didn't vibe with me as much as the last one.

Don't worry ill put a cut off so I dont clog the tag.

So I just got back from watching the new Transformers movie and personally I'll have to give it a 5/10.

It wasn't the actors, they all did fine though personally I feel some scenes were lacking with Noah and Elena. It felt like there was too many people. You got the two new humans, several new autobots and now the maximals.

It was too cluttered with characters that half the time some of them didn't even get any real scenes, mostly the maximals. Sure they were in the scenes but I dont remember their names. I don't know anything about them..beyond general fan knowledge.

I feel like we didn't need 2 humans they could have easily had Noah be in the place of Elena,like he just got his new job and he's finally making his way out of the Bronx when suddenly he's thrusted into a world ending situation! Like he just got his brother Healthcare and he was doing good and now suddenly these alien mother fuckers want to eat the planet?? Would have given him a stronger motive for wanting to destory the key, losing everything when he JUST got on the right track.

I liked Elena.I liked the woman who played her but there was no reason for there to be 2 humans and I get they were sorta trying to have her be the voice of reason about destroying the key but then that goes nowhere.

Who is the plane guy? I love him but God i can't even remember a name.

Wheeljack was fucked over im sorry I hate what they did to him. Can we please stop with the nerdy stereotype of scientists? How hard is it to make a decent Wheeljack?? For fucks sake they gave him glasses!

I did like Mirage. He was fun.

Arcee was great.

And I even liked Scourge a bit.

....Bee did not have to die. Sorry it was a waste of time.

But the one thing that has this movie just out of nowhere to me....is the plot. Like why aren't we fighting Megatron? Megatron is the middle bit of the transformers lore (depending on continuity) and then we're supposed to get the big bad planet eating god! Having Unicron come in so early just seems way out of place and makes the war on cybertron trivial in comparison.

I didn't hate the move. I had fun watching it but by God does it have some issues for me. I think why the last one worked so well was because it was a much smaller story, I wasn't expecting Unicron to show up so its out of place.

Anyway it was fun but I would have overhauled the story.

#transformers rotb #transformers rise of the beasts

[euncheols]

hellooo everyone, u can call me june / el if we’ve met before (they/them), and i’m here to present kang euncheol, local scatterbrained and coffee-stained tour guide at the lotte world folk museum who probably cares more abt the displays he’s introducing than the crowd lol. i’m still workin on his plots, so i’ll probably be slow replying to plotting msgs until i hopefully finish them by wednesday, but for now here’s his BIO, his PROFILE, MOODBOARD, & PLOTS! a sparknotes edition is under the cut :>

background:

24y/o, he/him, lives in #3015!

the younger of two siblings. his brother eunyeol moved to the united states a few years ago, so his mother’s his only family left in south korea

i’d appreciate it if you could avoid using gendered terms to refer to him in replies unless we’ve talked about it first !! 

( tw: themes of death, specifically funeral homes; the tldr is that his family operated one as an extension of their home and he briefly worked there as a teen ) - - - his family operates a funeral home that’s been in business for 30+ years now. it might have been okay, except it was technically just an extension of their house, and the proximity to something so morbid made it difficult to make friends in school (no one rly wanted to hang out anywhere near someplace like that lol) ( end of tw )

all things considered, he came out pretty okay-adjusted ?? his mother was really patient about it all and shielded him and his brother from that line of work until they each decided they were ready to learn about things. it’s given him a tendency to get wrapped up in thoughts abt spirituality and existentialism, but he really wants and is trying to be more grounded

he did develop a fear of needles because of it, but it’s a lot better now, he just can’t look

he was previously a tour guide at the museum but got bumped up to be the museum director’s assistant a couple of months ago....upwards mobility babey!! it’s still mostly paperwork, and now when he’s not sorting out new exhibits, he’s helping make the handmade miniature figurines that they sell at the gift shop (the museum’s full of historical miniature displays!!), but he’s gonna get to curate his own exhibit one day, he swears 😭

exterior/personality:

history nerd. very into historical reenactments, borderline larping

just moved into the apartments a month or so ago!! he’s floated around with different roommates before and had terrible times with all of them, so he’s rly crossing his fingers for this one to work out sdkjdjhd

generally a Nice Person, but he had to adapt to being called names behind his back somehow.....introducing the Polite Resting Bitch Face (🙂)!

I’m so sorry, the large red sign may have been easy to miss!  🙂 It says no touching the exhibits.

Please stop throwing weeds over the side of the roof. You don’t know whose windowsill they might be landing on (mine) 🙂.

blind as hell. huge ass glasses

doesn’t know how to manage unconstrained free time tbh. needs and appreciates having a set schedule to stick to at work, otherwise he might really just wander around until something catches his attention and sucks him into it for hours

will probably talk to you if he thinks you look approachable! he’s not afraid of starting conversations, it’s more about whether the other person actually wants to be in that conversation lmao

ironically his memory is horrible . his workspaces at the apartment and at the museum are neat but also cluttered with many reminders (and some of them are outdated, which usually doesn’t help his confusion :I)

really hates getting caught up in existentialism but he’s prone to it considering how he grew up and all?? also plagued by intrusive thoughts. currently trying to find more hobbies to keep them away

but he’s really a pretty bright person all things considered. usually smiling and usually means it, he’s just trying to get thru life and maybe finally make some more friends, because he doesn’t want to get too fixated on the past or the future

alternate life dreams include wanting one of those weighted heated blankets, like Really wanting one, but he can’t find one that’s both weighted and heated

wanted plots:

his plots page is done yay

roommate!! pls. he’s such a [loud microwave noise] to live with but at least your muse will never have a dull day ...?....... they would gain privileges to his supply of blankets (failed attempts to find that fabled Weighted Heated Blanket) and they could maybe watch...cool...NOT nerdy shows together. unless

someone who is very passionate about [their hobby], and euncheol saw that and decided he wanted to try it out too, so muse has been getting him into it, maybe with some questionable results

muse who he treats like his little sibling (regardless of whether they’re really younger/older). he was always The Youngest around his house but he likes getting to be The Older Sibling too :s

would require more plotting depending on the direction it goes, but a muse he met through his family’s business and ended up befriending outside of the job. i’d love it if they were pretty close now and have that quiet “i’ve Seen you, and i Know you” kind of trust

someone new to the area or visiting the museum for the first time who he can channel all of his enthusiasm into a tour for

#itsthq: intro #i manually small texted the rest through html but then tumblr took it all away #it is not getting a second round of tears and sweat from me

[basic204]

You should never have touched the strange glowing spear.

"You should never have touched the strange glowing spear." I repeated to myself for the hundredth... yeah, it had to be at least that many as I raised my slim, perfect arm, and deflected the tank's sabot round with my palm. I mean sure, it’s amazing being nigh invulnerable to harm, but was being pulled to every area of conflict on Earth 24/7 worth it? I mean the soldiers can't even actually see me as I stalk the battlefield, watching, encouraging, leaning down to whisper "If you run to that boulder, you can throw the grenade into the hatch of that damned tank." Running my hands through the hair a young soldier about to break and run saying "Courage, I promise you will survive this" Touching a general on the shoulder as he pours over his maps and making him see the best way to smash the enemy's flank without losing too many of his men. As amazing as it all is being in this beautiful, perfect form, I'd give it all up if I could just go back to standing while I damned well pee again.

I guess I should explain how this started a little better. After I got out of the Army, I moved back into my parents’ old house. Ms. Stratos been part of the neighborhood as long as I can remember. She was the crotchety old biddy that every neighborhood hates. Weeds in your yard because you've been working doubles for a month, she'd call the HOA. Get together at your house with your friends ran one minute past 10pm, the cops would be on your doorstep because "She called about a wild party". When we were kids, and cut through her yard she would go full scorched earth, shaking her cane, screaming, HOA, cops. I don't think there was a soul on this Earth that she liked.

Not long after I came home, I was pressure washing my driveway, when she walked over and asked if I could do her walkway when I was done. Her voice, which I had only ever heard as a shrill shriek my whole life, was full, rich, and commanding, and did not belong on a wisp of a crone like this, it was more like the voice I'd heard from every colonel, and general I'd ever served with, that is the kind you don't say no to. After I finished her walk, I cleaned her driveway as well since it looked like shit, and frankly, part of me was afraid of half-assing it.

As I was wrapping up, her garage door opened and there was a pair of lawn chairs, and a cooler. Were sitting just inside. She motioned me to sit, fished out a beer, and handed it to me before she sat down. She didn't say a word, and just looked over the driveway with a slight nod of approval. We never spoke a word, just sat drinking our beer, watching the neighbors walk by, giving her glances that ranged from fear to contempt. When the beer was done, I gathered my things, and crossed the street to my house.

Thus it went for a few years. I'd be doing something outside, look up, and she would be there asking me to help her with something. Repairing windows, changing the float in the toilet, replacing a ceiling fan. Her house was a monument to clutter. Souvenirs from all over the world, pictures showing a younger, much hotter version of Ms. Stratos. Each task I completed was followed by a trip to the garage for beer, and laughing at the neighbors.

One day, after I replaced her garbage disposal, she pointed at the scars on my arms and asked. "Those still hurt?" I shook my head "Nah, these I don't even notice, its the plates, and screws holding my legs together that hurt like hell." I shrugged "IED, Kandahar. Could have been worse, if I hadn't listened to that little voice in my head to stop, I'd have driven right over it. It was the difference between living and dying." She nodded with a sad smile and laid her hand on my cheek. "Its a good thing you listened to that voice then, most don't." She looked me right in the eyes. "Part of you misses it, I can tell." I nodded. "I miss teaching the young guys so they didn't get themselves killed doing something stupid. Mostly, I just wanted to walk into the HQ, and tell those idiots with the stars on their shoulders, everything that they are doing wrong, and how to fix it." I swear, it was like her eyes lit with fire for a moment and she said coldly. "Is that what you really want? To help the soldiers, and fix things?" I laughed to break the tension and said "Yeah, wouldn't that be fucking great?" I quickly left, as things were getting a bit intense for me.

The siren from the ambulance woke me at midnight, and I went outside in time to see them loading Ms. Stratos into the back. Fighting the paramedics, she clawed the oxygen mask from her face, and pointed at me. Her voice rang clear as a bell. "I'm leaving it in your hands, you can take up the spear now." I watched the lights until they were lost around the corner. I found out that she died on the way to the hospital. A lawyer named Nina Themis contacted me a little while later, informing me that I was the sole beneficiary of the estate of one Athena Stratos, and, with the exception of a few items she had donated to various museums, was entitled to her house, and everything contained within it.

It was a few weeks before I could bring myself to go over there, and start cleaning out the place. When I entered, the place simply felt dead, and hollow without her personality filling it. I spent an hour checking out things that I had always wondered about. A few statues in marble, a stabbing spear I swear must have been a prop from the movie Zulu, a huge painting of the Parthenon, mostly hidden behind a pair of cabinets holding Hummel figurines. I was at a loss where to start when I saw a curious light coming from under a side room. I had to put my shoulder to the door to get it open, but there are advantages to being 6' 3", and 220 pounds of muscle. Moving through stacks of boxes, filled with what appeared to be Jane's Defence Weekly, and Soldier of Fortune magazines, I saw it.

It sat on the armor tree, the metal looking like liquid gold. Burnished bronze was my guess. Breastplate, helmet, greaves over a pristine white tunic, all in the most classical Greek style, right out of the museums, and leaning on it was a spear that, I shit you not, was glowing like a fucking light saber. As freaked out as that was, I just couldn't help myself. If you tell me you wouldn't have done the same, I'd call you a liar to your face. There was no heat, as I grasped it, but the glow enveloped my whole body instantly. I felt a burning sensation as my clothes disintegrated. I felt agony as I looked down to see the hair fall from my rapidly slimming legs, and a wet clank, as the plates, and screws that had been my tormentors for years, hit the floor. My arms slimmed, becoming the color of marble, and my pecs started doing things that I didn't want to think about.. There was an uncomfortable feeling in my groin, and I gave out a scream as, with a pop, everything inverted. The armor on the stand flowed onto my body, and took its proper place. With a final flare, the glow snapped off, and I could feel the knowledge of centuries of combat, and battles flowed into my brain, and I almost crashed to my knees.

I ran into the bathroom, stupid damned spear still in my hand, and flicked on the light. My heart sank as the face of a 6 foot tall goddess of a woman staring back at me. I looked down at my arms, and didn't see a scar, or even blemish on them. I leaned the spear on the hamper, and used both hands to lift the hem of the tunic up, as I watched in the mirror. Bracing, I saw exactly what I was expecting, an innie, where is should be an outie. I looked at myself in the mirror and could only say one thing. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!"

#funny #nyc #scion #scion hero #demigods #mythology and folklore #greek mythology #mythology #myth and legend #athena

[bageld0gz]

The Teacher, Part Two

I park my Subaru in front of your two-story Victorian. Like many of the older homes in our area, your house has been split up into multiple units. Your living space is also the preschool my daughters attend. You occupy the main part of the house: two bedrooms, a living room, two bathrooms, dining room, and kitchen downstairs and three bedrooms upstairs. I also know that there’s what you refer to as your creepy basement (seriously, stop asking people if they want to see your creepy basement). I’ve never been to the upstairs; you keep that off limits to students. My kids have been upstairs when your daughter babysits them. 

I spent a good thirty minutes deciding what to wear tonight. What do you wear to eat frozen pizza and video games with your kids’ preschool teacher who you’ve been lusting after for the last two years? I decided on a simple, above the knee, purple dress with several buttons at the collar. Nothing too revealing or fancy. Just kept it real casual. I’ve never seen you in anything but a button down shirt and pants, maybe a pair of khaki shorts in the summertime. Sneakers in the winter and flip flops in the summer. If it’s not snowing, I wear the same pair of sandals that I wear every single day. Minimal make-up, just a little mascara, brow filler, and peppermint lip balm. My hair is down, shoulder length and curly, dyed a neon shade of purple with pink tips. 

I grab my purse (not really a purse; it’s a reusable grocery bag from the local co-op), and exit the car. My palms are sweating, and my pulse is quick. It’s just pizza and video games I remind myself. Ryo had teased me earlier via Google chat about my lust for the preschool teacher and wished me good luck with my conquests. The benefits of an open-marriage. 

I ring the doorbell, and you open the door almost immediately. 

“Hey, come in! I just put the pizza on,” you beckon me inside. For the first time ever, I see that you’re wearing a t-shirt, an ancient green Seattle Supersonics one to be exact. 

“Oh, nice. What kind of pizza?” I am a fairly picky eater, but you don’t know this about me. 

"Just pepperoni. Is that okay?" You ask with concern on your face. 

"Yeah yeah, that sounds great," I do love pepperoni pizza. 

I follow you through the house to the kitchen. I've walked through your kitchen to the backyard to pick up my kids countless times, but I've never really paid much attention to it. The counter is cluttered with various appliances and empty beer bottles, but it's mostly tidy. 

"Can I get you something to drink? Beer? Whiskey? Tea?" You grab an IPA from the fridge. 

"Water is fine," I reply. 

"Ice?" You ask as you grab a glass from the cupboard. As you reach, your shirt rides up a bit to reveal a sliver of lower belly. You tug it down self-consciously. 

"Please."

You hand me the frosty glass, and your fingers lightly brush mine. I draw my hand away quickly, though I want your touch to linger. 

"So no booze?" You ask, leaning against the counter.

I'm staring at your hands; they're like mitts really. I wonder how many fingers you could fit inside me.

"Uh yeah," I snap back into reality. "Three years of no alcohol."

"I don't think I could go completely sober, though it'd probably help with the gut," you give your not insubstantial stomach a pat. 

"Oh, well, I mean I'm not completely sober. I just don't drink," you raise your eyebrows at that. I remember that at ten years my senior you're part of a generation that still sometimes looks down on casual marijuana use, especially by parents. You shrug and smile.

"You're welcome to smoke out back. My neighbors would probably call the cops though," a grin spreads across your face. 

The legends of your neighbors are known by all of us. They watch you for every mistake or possible transgression. They call the fire department on your legal fire pit (you've spoken to the fire chief), try to tow the cars of parents, block all the parking spaces, and call the cops when you get a little rowdy watching a basketball game. 

"If it's going to piss off your neighbors then I think I might have to," I have a pre-roll and a lighter in my purse. You follow me out to the patio beer in hand. "I'm far too sober right now to be eating pizza and playing video games with my kids' preschool teacher."

I light up the joint and take a fairly shallow inhale. I don't want to be so high where I go into anxiety mode and don't want to interact or be touched. I offer it to you and you shake your head 'no' at first.

"Fuck it. I don't think I've smoked since 1997," you take a deep drag and cough until there's tears rolling down your cheeks.

"Take it easy, big boy," I take back the joint from you and take another dainty toke. I stub it out on the ground and put it back in the little plastic container that I recycle into receptacles for sewing needles.

"Fuuuuck," you lean back in your chair and sip your beer. "That shit is strong." I've never heard you swear like that before.

I laugh. "Especially if you haven't smoked since I was in middle school."

"Thanks for making me feel old," you narrow your eyes at me. 

"Aging to perfection," I quip. That earns me a slight smile and a curious look. You're not sure if I'm sarcastic or flirting, and, honestly, I'm not sure either. 

You lean back and take a few more sips of beer, looking pretty cheeched out. You stand up slowly and turn to me. 

"Ready to destroy some Falmer?"

#mature #maturesexy #romance #creative writing #writing

[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 130,

Melaina stopped by after classes today.  She wanted me to come take a look at the blackboard to make sure it matches what I had in mind before she hauls it all the way over to the library.  I invited Cass to come along too.  I was inordinately excited enough about this to put off the cleanup and prep for tomorrow for later in the evening.

It turned out to be an even more intriguing trip than I expected.

Rather than the large workshop doors that I’d seen last time, Melaina led us to a smaller (well, normal-sized) side door that opened into a room that seemed to be somewhere between an office and a storefront.  A counter bisected the room, and on the other side of it lay a cluttered table with stools and a staircase that I inferred ascended to Melaina’s house.  On our side - save a space for a door to the workshop - the walls were lined with shelves filled with various smaller woodworking products.  While we took a few moments to hang up our cloaks and dry our shoes (puddles in the workshop were a safety hazard) I had the chance to examine the contents.

They ranged from the practical items like cups and cutting boards to more decorative pieces like statuettes and wind chimes.  Noting my interest, and perhaps remembering my outsider status, Melaina explained that these were mostly practice pieces carved and assembled when she didn’t have more important things to work on but occasionally other villagers will take a fancy to them.

Sufficiently dry, we soon sallied to the shop.  Workshop.  Got caught up in the alliteration opportunity there.  Melaina proceeded straight to where she had the blackboard propped up against a table, giving some sort of explanation about her process working on it.  Something about deciding on the proper level of roughness to leave the surface at, I think.  I was frankly far too distracted by the rest of the room to pay proper attention.

 While I had expected handsaws and hammers - and, indeed, these and other such tools were present - I had not imagined I would find machinery.  Here, a tablesaw, there, a drill press, by the wall, a lathe.  Not to mention other devices I lack the woodworking expertise to name or properly guess their use.  All of them crafted of metal shaped with a precision not even the most skilled blacksmith could achieve, but then scratched and worn and stained from years, perhaps decades, of use.

Realizing that Cass and I had stopped paying attention to her, Melaina made the archetypical move of clearing one’s throat for attention.  The two of us apologized, chagrinned, and she said that she tends to forget people who haven’t been in the workshop before aren’t used to the equipment like she is.  Although most of them find the machines strange and offputting rather than enticing.  Then again, she’d always heard outsiders like weird stuff.

When I started to ask where it all came from the carpenter, sighed, cut me short, and went into an explanation, doubtless practiced on every prior new visitor to the workshop.

A long time ago, several generations before she was born at least, an outsider with an interest in woodworking started hauling these machines back from expeditions into Cloud Tower - maybe with help of friends, maybe with an artifact of some kind.  When he - or maybe they were a she - eventually didn’t come back from one of those expeditions, the new Village carpenter was left with the machinery.  Yes, it all looks strange at first, but really not fundamentally different from traditional tools and just as safe if you treat them with the same respect and care.  Yes, there were concerns about keeping them at first, but they were judged safe and too useful to get rid of.  No, we don’t know what keeps them powered and running on their own.  No, we haven’t tried opening them up to examine their inner workings because there’s no way to do that without damaging, possibly breaking them and they’re not replaceable.

Picking up that Melaina was tired of answering questions about these machines long before I ever even showed up, I held my tongue on further inquiries.  Although I do find myself with a renewed interest in going into Cloud Tower someday.�� It just feels so far down the list of things to do with more mundane day-to-day concerns in front of me.

Like the blackboard.

In overall form, it was much as I’d pictured; a black-painted rectangle about as long as I was tall, and half as high with a tray jutting out and running along the bottom.  Melaina handed me a chunk of chalk (or something close enough to it) and urged me to try it out.  I had to press harder and with more resistance than I expected but I was able to write a quick “Hello, World” on its surface handily enough.  Cass looked unimpressed, but I passed her the chalk and started waxing poetic about the usefulness of being able to write examples large enough that all the students could see and follow along with at once instead of relying on my own paltry verbal explanations.  Before I got too far into that, Melaina handed me a damp cloth that I’d been too distracted to notice her retrieve and I took that as my cue to try clearing the board.  Again, it took more effort than I expected, closer to scrubbing than the wiping my otherworld memories told me was the ideal, and there were certainly ghostly traces left behind if you looked for them, but it would get the job done more than well enough.  Just might need a new coat of paint every now and then (some sort of mixture of eggs and charcoal I think Melaina mentioned).  Still easier than working with the wax tablets.

Cass and I thanked Melaina - myself more excitedly than I ever expected to be regarding a blackboard - and she told us she’d get some help and bring it by the library the next time the rain let up.

I wonder if the children will be half as excited as I am about this?

<==Previous          Next==>

#writing #original fiction #serial fiction #sliceoflife #Writeblr #daily writing #epistolary novel #writers on tumblr #WIP #creative writing #literature #prose #writers #web novel #novel #journal #isekai #epistolary #fantasy #slice of life #fiction #my writing

[yuichi-ro]

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cw: fem!Reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, best friends to lovers trope, mostly self indulgent, everyone's alive everything's fine its all fine, unedited word count: 1.3k in which Takashi asks for the hundredth time if you regret him being in a gang

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Your fingers drum along the back of your phone.

Mindlessly in fact to the point you don't hear the ticking or feel the motion as you stare at your phone screen. What flashes across is generic and easily swiped to the side. It isn't really about what you're looking at.

It's about the calmness in your husband's studio.

A cluttered sanctuary that was about due for an overhauling cleaning. New seasons came new fabrics and new styles. But each time you buckled down and helped him clean. It always resulted in the same old Takashi.

Just like your tapping went ignored. The hum of his sewing machine was something you tuned out as well.

Takashi hunched over his creation that mostly resembled a flowing top now. How much he could get done when the kids visited your family was always amazing. But not once did he ever complain about them interfering with work. Just like the same old Takashi.

Absorbed in the time spent together. You honestly hadn't noticed when the humming, mumbling and all around work had stopped.

Finally looking up from your phone to see Takashi's lavender eyes on you and not his work. You gave him a crooked look and a smile, "What?"

Your words gave a dopey smile crossing his lips, "What? Can I not look at my wife?"

Batting your lashes at him you set your phone down and grin, "Seems suspiciously like you want me to get up and get you something, hmm?"

"Nah," he shook his head, "Just admiring the view."

This long and he still managed to spring that on you whenever he wanted. Earning nothing short of an eye roll and a smirk you push up off your chair and come behind his work station. Takashi half turned towards you when you glance over his shoulder and look at his work.

Beautiful as ever. The lines even, trim nowhere to be seen except kicked under the table and his surge hem all but the sturdiest you'd ever seen. And you could attest to that as some of the clothes you still had post dating, marriage and kids still held together like true champs. When you were formulating a flattering remark to take him back for his own. Takashi beat you with something else.

"...do you regret me being in Toman?" he mumbled softly with his back turned to you.

This again.

You step closer and drape your arms over his shoulders. Crossing them over his chest and leaning into the back of him and the chair, "What are you talking about?"

There was a tenseness to his body that you couldn't really explain. Or perhaps even imagined. But your husband's head tipped down and he remained silent for a second, "You know...are you mad at me for doing what I did and the people. All I'm asking is are you-"

"Takashi," his name cut him off rightfully so when you spoke over him, "Draken and Mikey literally had the kids all last weekend. Hakkai got stupid for their birthdays and gave them each bikes. Baji....ok well." You laughed and hugged him tighter as you set your chin on his shoulder, "Baji needs to stop telling them they can punch people but I think that's coming from a good place." You pause with a scrunched look on your face, "Ok probably should talk to Baji about that later but that's not the point."

Even with your recount and rambling. Takashi still remained silent in his chair. When you tilted your head to look at him he was all but wearing a complacent look on his face. Obviously unsatisfied over your answer.

Hugging him tighter you can't help but sigh, "They're my friends too. Of course I don't regret Toman." You don't feel him getting any less tense under you so you cross your arms a little tighter and find your thumb gliding over his collar bone as you sigh, "...do you regret Toman?"

He'd asked you this question probably half a dozen times in your lives. But not once had you really directed it back towards him. Takashi found it odd to think about his own question.

Lulling his head to the side. Resting it on your arm as his hands came up to gently grip your wrists. Holding them as he swiped his finger over your soft skin, "...I think my body regrets getting punched that many times."

His attempt at a joke didn't really lighten the question at hand. You give a disapproved noise and Takashi finally relaxes back into you with his own sigh.

"...I think I regret not being able to start this sooner."

"Your work? You were the crafts club president silly. Don't know what more you coulda done."

"No. My life with you."

Oh.

The thought never occurred to you. You both weren't classic middle or high school sweethearts like say Takemichi and Hinata. But you didn't once think of anyone else but Takashi when you looked back on who mattered to you during your youth. He was your other half. Even before finally dating.

"But..." You broke apart from hugging him from behind just to shift to the side and look at him with an honest to goodness confused look on your face, "Our lives have always been together?"

Those lavender eyes rolled slightly in the back of his head. Takashi fidgeted in his seat a little and ran his hands over the nearly finished blouse in front of him, "You know what I mean." He looked down even further to his feet, "I never asked you out. Instead I was too busy with trying to be...I don't even really know what I was trying to be back then. Tough I guess."

You lean in and reach for his hand. Taking it away from the softness of the fabric under hand. To replace it with your fingers softly moving over his knuckles and his hand tucked gingerly between your two palms, "You know...you're kinda avoid my question."

Takashi looked up from his feet over at you next to him.

"I only really asked if you regret being in the gang?" You raise his hand to yours. Placing your palms flush together so the tattooed wedding rings overlapped with your laced your fingers together. Making it impossible for him to pull away when you laid a kiss on his knuckles, "So, do you?"

Part of him was lying if he didn't say he regretted it. There was the physical pain. What human didn't regret gnashes and fractures and broken bones. But what he always regretted so much was the look on your face. The tremble in your words when you said everything would be fine. The way it affected you all those years ago stuck with him well into adulthood.

But, that wasn't it though. Takashi could look anywhere in his house and see the smiling pictures of his friends. Hakkai and him dressed up on his wedding day. All of them visiting Draken in his shop the first day he opened under his own management. Even the countless pictures of everyone with his kids from infant to kid to now teenagers.

The thought of not loving you sooner hurt. But the idea of robbing his kids of this family he surrounded them in. That hurt more in all honesty.

"All in all," You spoke with a smile and raised his knuckles to your lips to lay a gentle kiss on them, "I don't regret any of it. Not even for a second."

Finally the relief that wouldn't overcome him came. Takashi smiled with a relaxed exhale in his work chair before leaning over and kissing you ever so softly, "I can't regret what lead me here. So long as I end up with you, I'd do it over a million times."

#tokyo rev #tokyo revengers #tokyorev #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev x reader #mitsuya takashi #tokyo rev mitsuya #tokyorev mitsuya #tokyo revengers mitsuya #mitsuya x reader #mitsuya takashi x reader

[fundy-simp]

Technoblade/GN!Reader - Messy Confessions [2700 words]

Fluff! Sick fic, kinda! After fleeing the DreamSMP mainland due to stress you find yourself in the snow biome that an old friend of yours lives in. You’re not sure how you know where he lives or how he’ll respond to you just appearing at his house in clothes definitely not suited for the tundra, but you suck it up and ask him for help anyways.

This is a c!Techno fic where he’s a piglin shapeshifter. You and Techno had known each other back in the Pogtopia days but there was a large break in communication while he moved bases and you got swept up in other things, but of course you had to meet again. Might make a part two of this honestly but I’m not super sure, so if you want one let me know! As always if anything about this makes you uncomfortable feel free to scroll past :)

You barely knew where you were going when you jumped into nether, following down the rickety one meter wooden path before it tapers into a 3 meter cobblestone and obsidian path. You needed out of the mainland, it was all too much. It felt like there was a rift- and a weird demonic egg- in between everyone, you felt alone, lost, so fuckin’ tired. Without thinking you jumped through the portal at the end, your body tensed to a complete halt as you bore the brunt of going from the nether to the tundra.

Gritting your teeth you pushed through it, stomping through the snow as the freezing wind felt like it was seeping into your bones. You seriously need to not impulsively decide to run off into the middle of nowhere in just your everyday wear. It wouldn’t have been as much as a problem if the snow didn’t get deeper as you walked, going over the edge of your netherite boots and into them. Quickly, you’re approaching the point where the coldness that felt like you’ll know till you're in the ground was vastly out weighing you panic from earlier.

In a haze you look around you, passing over an iced lake you can vaguely see footprints in the snow. Carefully you follow them as you huddle in on yourself, your fingers and nose were going numb as you made your way over a particularly steep hill. A curse left your lips as you tripped down the other side, as soon as you had your bearings you shot up, looking around to see where you were. Squinting, you could barely make out a house through the snow, a hope you hadn’t even noticed you’d lost flares in your chest as you marched towards it.

By the time you had made it to the cozy cabin you couldn’t feel your hands at all, you hesitated for a bit on the porch, you don’t even know who lives here, what if they’re not home? After meandering way, way longer than someone who was under the immediate threat of hypothermia, you finally knocked on the door, pain shocked through your arm, who knows if that’s a good or bad thing.

You hunch in on yourself as you hear shuffling on the other side of the door and after a few seconds it swung open to reveal a very distraught, or at least distraught for him, Techno, a sword drawn in your direction as he looked at you with dull eyes. Well that answers your question from earlier. Involuntarily you shivered, whether it was because the heat of the house made you realize just how cold it was or if it was the harsh gaze of the definitely over seven foot tall piglin, you couldn’t tell.

He looked at you for a second before sighing, “C’mon, y/n.” he said quietly as he put his sword up by the door and stepped aside. Carefully you stepped in, your eyes scanning over the cluttered living room as your body tried to get used to the warmth. You rubbed your hands together as you looked over to the fire place, almost jumping out of your skin when you realize that there’s a fucking polar bear laying there. Techno let out a quiet chuckle, it slipped into his words as he spoke, “Oh, don’t mind Steve, he’s a big cuddle bug.”

You nervously chuckled along, why was this the first place you thought to go? You haven’t talked to Techno in months and that little crush you had on him back in the Pogtopia days did not let up like you thought. “What brings you here?” he asked, he talked like the two of you didn’t just mutually ghost each other for half a year.

Swallowing thickly you shrug, fidgeting with your fingers for a second before being reminded of how it hurts to move them, “Oh. I- I just. I just missed you, ya know?” You replied quietly, nothing in your voice was convincing as you avoided eye contact.

You could feel him raise a brow at you, “So you planned to come see me and made the choice to wear nothin’ for the cold weather?” He asked, you could hear shuffling as you focused your eyes squarely on the wooden floor.

“O-Oh well, you know how dumb I can be!” You said through a forced chuckle, shivering as you rubbed your hands up and down your arms. “Yup, just poor planning! Noth- Nothin- '' You stopped for a second, making a face as you brought the crook of your elbow to your face and sneezed, then again, then one more time before pulling your arm away. “Christ- One moment.” You wiped at your slightly teary eyes as you sneezed two more times.

A heavy cloak was placed on your shoulders, when did Techno get behind you? “This is what you get y/n, go chill out with Steve for a moment.” He said, his voice was soft, you’d almost argue there was a twinge of worry in it as he ran his large hands up and down your biceps for a few seconds, trying to warm you up just a little more before he shooed you towards Steve. “You’re really bad at lyin’, you know that right?” he mostly mumbled as he disappeared up the ladder.

Sighing, you pulled Techno’s cloak closer to your body as you sat down next to Steve, he was down right massive next to you, it made you slightly nervous as you tried not to disturb him. After a few seconds the polar bear lazily lifted his head from the ground, looking at you before sniffing your, or well, Techno’s cloak. You never thought you would ever be able say you’ve seen a polar bear ponder something, but this one definitely did for a few seconds. When he came to whatever conclusion he did, he shuffled over to you and nuzzled into you as he placed his head in your lap.

You tensed for a second, this polar bear is acting like a giant puppy dog, literally nothing in your life could ever prepare you for anything like this. After a few very scared moments you sighed, you’re far too tired to really bother questioning anything so you leaned down, resting your head on the bear’s soft fur as your eyes flutter shut.  

You woke up only god knows how long later, head pounding as you felt someone pick you up, “Hello?” you asked quietly, opening your eyes only to squint at how even the low light in the room made your head spin.

You could feel who was holding you physically stutter for a second before replying, “Ah, sorry y/n, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Oh yeah, you’re at Techno’s. Forgot about that... His voice was a whisper as he spoke, as if he could tell you weren’t feeling well, “Don’t worry everythin’ is okay, just didn’t want you sleepin’ on the floor.” He said as he held you with one arm, using the other to pull you both up the ladder and into what you could assume was his room. It was dark, lit by one lantern by the ladder that was slowly dying, books were splayed out across the floor and desk. If your head was throbbing any less you would have teased him for it, how it reminded you of the days back in Pogtopia.

Carefully he stepped over the books and general clutter as he carried you over to the bed and laid you down, you made a face at him as he pulled the blanket over you, “This isn’t normal for you.” You whisper at him, wincing slightly at how your seemingly growing migraine reacted to you talking.

Techno let out a slight chuckle as he crouched down next to the bed, “And it ain’t normal for you to just appear at my home freezin’, most likely sick, and definitely panickin’ about somethin’, so I think we’re even.” he said softly, you opened your mouth to argue but he quickly shushed you, bringing his hand up to your hair to mess with it, “You are far too tired to argue with me right now, after you sleep and are feelin’ better, we’ll talk.”

Grumbling you listen, pulling the blanket around you as you force yourself to relax. His touch was soft but still it managed to make your migraine flare up, as much as it hurt you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to stop. You scrunch your eyes shut, trying to magically wish the pain away so you didn’t have to tell him to stop, instead though it just alerted him of your pain. Slowly he detangled his fingers from your hair and softly placed a kiss on your forehead, or the best he could in his piglin form, which was more of a boop from his snout. You opened your eyes just in time to barely see his flustered face in the dark, how he avoided eye contact even in the darkness was cute. That look on his face was seemingly burned into your mind as you curled into his sheets, drifting off into a only slightly fitful slumber.

When you woke up you were pleasantly surprised by the fact that the migraine had gotten better, now just a dull pain behind your eyes instead of a stabbing pain everywhere. You try to sit up but the moment you lift your head vertigo hits you like a brick, making you plop back down in defeat. You vaguely debate calling Techno’s name to get his attention, but before the thought could even really form you wave it off. You quietly groaned as you tried to sink further into the sheets, they still smelled like Techno which made you blush a little. “Phil- Phil! You don’t understand! I- I. I wasn’t built to feel like this!” you were immediately pulled out of your thoughts by Techno’s voice, he sounded worried.

You hear someone else laugh, it’s Phil, “Mate, stop stressing. It’s not that big of a deal.” There's shuffling downstairs followed by the sound of opening and closing of multiple chests.

Techno sputters, it wasn’t common for him to verbally stutter when he didn’t know what to say, normally he’d just stay quiet so whatever they were talking about must have had him thoroughly wracked. “No, listen. Phil. I kissed their forehead last night!” Your heart suddenly jumped into your throat, ‘they’re talking about you.’ is the only thought in your mind. “Like some sappy nerd! And I told them I’d talk about feelin’s when they got up!” he stopped for a second, you couldn’t help but giggle at him as you heard him groan, “What is wrong with me, Phil?” he asked, it was much quieter, his voice filled with genuine worry. You felt an odd pang of guilt in the bottom of your gut, your brain trying to twist everything into something that could be your fault.

There were some light jingles in the silence before a myriad of more filled it, it was probably Phil stretching his wings, “You’re not gonna like this Techno, but.” there was another tense silence, it made your throat dry as you realize how hot it is under all these blankets, “... You’ve got a crush, mate.” he said plainly.

“HEH??” Techno basically yelled, you almost fell out of the bed with how hard you jumped, swinging your arm out onto the bedside table to stop yourself, knocking a book down in the process. The entire house went silent, not even the multiple animals in the house made a noise as you buried yourself under the blanket. There were step foots before the telltale creak of a ladder being used filled your ears, you’re going to pass out in the worst way possible. Your head filled with worst case scenarios within seconds, Techno knows you were listening to their conversation, he’s going to hate you, he’s going to kick you out to die.

Your thoughts spiral as you grip tighter to the blanket, the migraine came back as you fought off nausea. Two large hands carefully grab the blanket, pulling it away from you despite you fighting against it, when you reluctantly look over at Techno you see him crouched down next to you like last night, this time though it's his human form. You don’t think you’ve ever seen it, at least never this close, his bright emerald green eyes contrasted against the soft pink of his long, braided hair. He cleared his throat as you quickly looked away, “How much of that did you- uh. Did you hear, exactly?” he asked, not an ounce of anger or accusation in his voice, if anything he seemed scared.

Fiddling with the blanket, you struggled to come up with a reply. You could lie, saving his dignity and leave yourself to pine for him till he figures it out better, or you could just tell the truth, saving your heart and poor lying skills. You swallowed thickly as you looked down at your hands, “Well, you see. I. Hhhn. How do I say this?” You mostly asked yourself, you could see him already come to what you're going to say, his face going a dark red, but he doesn’t interrupt you. “I, uh, I heard all of it, I’m so sorry for eavesdropping. I woke up right before you guys got home and by the time I realized how personal the conversation was it would have been too awkward to do something.” you accidentally rambled, your face going a similar shade of red as his.

Techno sighed as he pulled one of his hands away from the blanket to scratch the back of his neck, “Ah… Shit.” he says quietly, you looked at him with wide eyes, the fear of him being mad at you boiling backup before he talks again, “Not- Not in a negative way!” He corrected himself quickly, smiling a little when he sees you visibly relax, “It’s just a little… Unfortunate for your crush to learn that you like them at the same time you realized it, that's all.” he said, or more mumbled, his hand on the blanket slowly gravitated towards one of your’s, whether that was purposeful or not it was really cute.

You nodded slightly, giggling a little at just everything that’s happened, “Well. If it makes it any easier,” you looked over at him as you set a shaking hand on his, “I’ve had a crush on you for a long while now.” you whispered, watching his face soften as he processed it.

“You’re gonna kill me. I’m not built for this, good god.” He said, a slight whine to his voice as he dropped his face down onto the bed. You let out a loud, genuine laugh at his actions before wincing, you’d almost forgotten about that damn migraine, “Oh yeah, you’re still sick.” he said quickly as he sat up, “Do you want some soup? Phil’s here, he makes really good mushroom stew, it was my favorite when I was younger.”

You giggle a little at his panic before nodding, “Yeah, that’d be nice.” you said, moving your hand on his before pulling it up to your lips and kissing it. “Thank you, Techno.” you let go of his hand as you watched him short circuit for a second.

Once he recovered he leaned over and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, much more of a proper kiss than last night. “Of course, y/n.” he replied as he stood up and walked to the ladder. Once he’s down you buried your head back under the blanket, both out of embarrassment and to get away from the harsh sun falling into the room.

You couldn’t help but smile when you hear Phil from downstairs laugh, “See! I told you everything would be fine! You really worry way too much, Techno.” you had to agree. You have no idea what Techno and you even are right now, but you were ready to stumble through it with him till you’re both ready to talk about it.

#dream smp x reader #dreamsmp x reader #mcyt x reader #technoblade x reader #fluff #woo yeah woo yeah yeah content #let me know if i should do a part two #honestly im not super happy with this but you didnt hear that from me. i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless

[jujutsu-headcanons]

Gojo Satoru general headcanons

Let's get one thing clear: this man is absolutely chaotic. He is always full of energy. His energy levels never reach below 50%. He is loud and proud, always running, and never takes a minute to relax.

Do not give him Monster. Shoko did that once and it took her forever to get him off the ceiling. Also, avoid caffeine. Shoko replaces his normal coffee with decaf and he still hasn't noticed the difference. Keep it that way.

He was the class clown when he was younger. He wasn't exactly a trouble maker, but he may as well be. I cannot word that sentence and I am sorry. Next.

All of his teachers assumed he never listened in class, so they always called in him when they thought he wasn't paying attention. It still shocked them every time he rattled off the correct answer.

Not only did he answer the question correctly, but he could also explain his reasoning behind the answer, and if it was multiple choice, explain why the other answers were wrong. 

This tall man child would march up to the board and absolutely fill it to the brim with work, turn around, drop the chalk-like a mic drop and walk back to his desk with the smuggest look on his face.

That doesn't mean he did the work tho

Idk how schools in japan work but we all know schools in America only care about the amount of work you do and not what you actually know so we'll use that for the sake of the headcanon: he had straight D's bc he never turned in his work

Despite not doing the work snd goofing off, teachers actually really liked him

A lot of people liked him and he was super popular, but he still felt alone

Fake friends, you know how that works, he didn't meet any real friends until he became a shaman

Clean freak. This dude actually makes his bed. He scrubs his bathroom twice a week. His desk can get cluttered but he straightens up once a week. He's not exactly a germaphobe because

He cannot respect your personal space and that's actually canon but let me take it a step further 

He's a slapper. Especially when he laughs. It doesn't hurt, it's playful dw. He hugs you from behind especially when he's cold. He picks you up and carries you around. He will grab your wrist, arm, or hand and lead you around even if you're following him. He lays his legs across you or lays across your lap. Puts his head on your shoulder. Platonic cuddling between friends is mandatory. He's just so hands-on it's ridiculous.

Unless you explicitly tell him you're uncomfortable he won't stop

Don't worry, if you aren't in that type of relationship, your no-no square is safe. Except, if you seem chill, he will slap your ass regardless of friendship status. His ass is also slappable. You can't tell me Geto and Gojo didn't run around slapping each other asses, okay

He was weird and scrawny as a child. He didn't start beefing out until he started training to be a shaman and he's still kinda smaller than most beefy boys

He can pick you up and throw you around easily. He carried around a 170 pound Yuji like a sack of potatoes and can easily carry around three times that weight

It's amazing he's so tiny because you remember 2014 Shane Dawson making all of those wack ass desserts that was just s pile of chaos wrapped in chocolate?

He can eat every last bite of one of those monstrosities without getting a stomach ache, gaining weight, or dying basically

He knows bc Yuji dared him to do it

He has really cold hands and feet

He sounds old. Let me elaborate. He's constantly cracking his joints. They also creak when he moves. He complains about body pains like he's 80 y/o

He also shares wisdom with the kids as if he's actually 80 y/o

It's irrelevant advice that doesn't make sense but is also useful. Megumi can't count the number of times he's asked Gojo for feedback on his technique but had been told to remember to chew 40 times or never go to bed angry

Starts off sentences with "now son" and "when I was your age"

He uses his blindfold as a headband when he wants his hair out of his face. He also uses headbands as... Headbands... When he wants to wear sunglasses but get his hair out of his face

He owns so many pairs of sunglasses but he always wears the same pair

He's only bought a handful of them himself, most of them are gifts

No one knows what to get him for Christmas or his birthday bc he has everything, so they resort to sunglasses

His favorite pair is a pair that Shoko and Geto bought him as a gag. He thought they were dead serious, though, so he wore them around for a month

They were heart-shaped, rose-tinted glasses

Can you believe this man doesn't use any gel or anything to keep his hair spiky with the blindfold on? It just naturally defies gravity when the blindfold is on

Tell this man he's pretty because he already knows. He's narcissistic but not the cringy kind

Photogenic as hell. Takes great pictures from any angle. 

He gives everyone a different story as to why he covers his eyes. Sometimes he says it's because his eyes are too pretty and are a distraction. Sometimes he says it's because the sunglasses/bandages/blindfold look cooler than his eyes. Sometimes he says it's to protect the six eyes from seeing things he doesn't want to see. The world may never know

He's tried covering his whole face before, but he thinks he's too pretty for that. He at least wants one of his many amazing features to be shown at all times.

So about his driver's license;

He knows how to drive. He can be a good driver. When he wants to be. He just doesn't have a driver's license.

Now he TELLS people he just never got around to getting one, however, there's a rumor he lost it due to too many parking tickets

It's amazing the only tickets he's ever gotten have been from that and once he got caught without a seatbelt; he would have gotten out of that one if he hadn't been flirting with the police officer so bad

This doesn't stop Gojo from driving places though

He steals Ijichi's car a LOT and Ijichi DOESN'T KNOW HOW like??? The windows are never broken and it doesn't look hotwired-

Gojo has a key

You're not even supposed to be able to duplicate car keys but Gojo did 

Also; none of the first-year trio knows he doesn't have a driver's license, though that much should be painfully obvious

He whips around corners, speeds up at yellow lights, goes "watch this" and does a donut, it's just a mess

The poor students have to sit in the backseat too. Just imagine Megumi with all three seatbelts around him like that one meme.

He thrives off of Nobara and Yuji screaming from the backseat, and he can see Megumi being smooshed because he thought the middle seat was the safest through the rearview mirror

Which he doesn't even need because of the six eyes

Despite being such a reckless driver, he knows when danger will happen, so he's never once gotten in a wreck

He blasts the radio, which makes up for the driving.

Has a habit of getting in a car and ending up in the McDonalds drive-thru

Steals other people's fries and keeps the fullest one for himself.

He was rebellious as a kid and teenager, but hey, at least his juvie record is sealed 

He's been detained and in the back of a cop car many times, but the reason was never really bad enough for him to be arrested. Mostly he's just being mouthy. And the time he got caught spray painting on the side of a building. And that one time he and Getou hopped the fence to get into the local pool. And that other time-

It got worse after Getou wasn't around to get him out of trouble. Suddenly, breaking the rules wasn't fun anymore and he mellowed out. 

Tried alcohol and cigarettes before he was legal. Decided neither was his thing, however, he did start drinking occasionally when he was legal.

He's a fucking chaotic drunk. Oh my god he's absolutely feral

Most bars in the vicinity know him by name and they sigh whenever he walks in

Shoko is his emergency contact. She hates it

Shoko has to drag drunk Gojo home at least twice a month and is not happy about it

Once she left him in an alley. He made it home okay so she guesses it's fine

Once he got so drunk he spilled beer on his sock. The thought the fastest way to dry them was by sticking them in the microwave. Forgot about it until someone asked, "Who the fuck is cooking socks???"

I feel it important he was in the break room of the local grocery store and no one knows how he got there

As he was escorted out he stole a grocery cart and rode away in it while singing Don't Threaten Me (With A Good Time) by Panic! At The Disco

He has no alcohol tolerance at all what so ever

He will literally just stare at you and giggle

It's funny he's really flirty but also doesn't seal the deal. Literally, every woman in that bar is willing to get in his bed but he declines every offer. No one knows why

Its because he respects women

He helps his students break the rules as long as they're within reason. Once night Yuji was really hungry and after having a temper tantrum he couldn't order Uber eats bc the school is supposed to be secret Gojo helped sneak him out to get food. Who needs curfew anyway.

The shirts in his closet range from like twenty bucks to the iconic rich bitch shirt the kids ruined in that one chapter we all know the one 

He still wears that by the way, he calls it "art" 

When he was younger, Megumi drew a picture of Gojo being eaten by his shadow dogs. Gojo found it and now it's framed in his room.

He keeps up with current trends and memes like no one's business. This is how he bonds with his kids.

Don't call him old, but also, he'll tell you to respect your elders it's a mess

He has a lot of games on his phone. You can usually find him holding his phone sideways playing some RPG game he probably spent too much money on 

He did hop on the Pokemon Go hype train but after becoming overpowered he got bored

This happens to a lot of games. He pays way too much money, gets to be the strongest in the server, and gets bored

He likes games where you can kill other people's troops and likes to watch as they lose all their power

I canon him as being borderline sadistic

This is why he's Sakata Gintoki reincarnated

White hair, sweet tooth, black leather clothes, dad vibes, never takes anything seriously bc when he does he's scary as fuck, the works.

He is Sakata Gintoki

He liked Gintama growing up. He watched a lot of iconic shows as they aired. He considers himself an og

He's hella bilingual

Because he's the strongest he goes overseas for missions a lot. Because of this he speaks a lot of languages and knows a lot about international cuisine 

He takes pictures of himself eating disgusting foods like snails. He never likes them but he loves the idea of Nobara gagging back in japan

Has paperwork sitting untouched on his desk from three months ago that he will not touch for at least another three months

Does the crossword puzzles in the newspaper every week

Uses humor as a coping mechanism and it honestly just became a personality

Constantly popping his joints. I'm sorry if you find this gross I too find it gross.

Probably brought home every stray animal he ever met ever until he was at least like 22 y/o

Tags: @wasabito @kittaliapenn

#jjk #jjk spoilers #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #gojo headcanons #gojo satoru headcanons

[thunderheadfred]

🐈‍Aizawa HC’s🐈‍

I dunno if people will care for this; I suspect my HC's for Aizawa are a little off the fandom norm. Still. I tried. Things get approximately NSFW under the cut. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

General

He has like, one discernible change of clothes per season. There is no distinction between hero outfit, casual wear, and pajamas. That fabric used to be black. It is now an exhausted shade of ‘please stop washing me.’ If you suggest that he buy new clothes, he will stare you down like you have three heads, and none of those heads have a brain.

This man does not spend money. He has a mind-blowing amount of savings, but no one will ever know until he dies and wills it all to a random animal shelter in the middle of nowhere. Has a secret scholarship fund for UA students. Again, this is completely anonymous. Only the principal knows.

He's a startlingly competent sketch artist. Nothing fancy, and he never took an art class in his life, but his quirk innately lends itself to spacial reasoning and feature recognition. He has sketch books brimming with sloppy but pin-point accurate life drawings. He can capture your soul in three strokes of a dried-up ballpoint pen. It's eerie.

Given his schedule, you’d expect him to prioritze convenience first, but junk food makes him cross-eyed. His body is a temple and he eats like a fucking monk.

He’s a wine snob. Well, a liquor snob generally. He knows the name of every regional sake-maker in Japan, and can tell you exactly which bottle is the best, down the the month of production. Assumes everyone possesses such laser-focused knowledge.

Tea drinker. Yeah, he has encyclopedic knowledge about that too. Apparently everything this man drinks comes with a bibliography.

Technically he’s supposed to live in the UA dorms part of the time. He sleeps poorly there, and goes home whenever he has the opportunity.

His house is old, but not valuable. Probably inherited. Traditional style with very few modern updates. He keeps it meticulously clean and does repairs as needed, but the age is still obvious. Everything creaks. You swear the place is haunted but won’t dare admit it aloud - he WILL laugh you out of the house.

There’s a garden but he doesn’t have time to keep it up. He has a lot of memories of the plants in full bloom. Letting it go to seed upsets him more than he lets on.

He has zero personal possessions aside from household appliances, which he meticulously researches and keeps in perfect condition.

Reads an insane amount of books. These mostly come from the library. There’s always a stack near his bed. You have no idea how he finishes them, because every time you see him with a book, he’s asleep with it on his face.

He doesn’t adopt cats so much as just leaves his doors open and lets them freely colonize the place. It’s not his house, it’s theirs. Somehow there's not a single cat hair on anything.

Most of these cats are cuddly little angels; you've never met nicer. But there’s a few beasts in the mix, with battle scars and three legs and a craving for human meat; these are Aizawa’s special favorites.

- - - - -

Dating

Falls for you when he stumbles across you taking care of one of the hideous strays he usually feeds on his route. Doesn’t approach you at first (definitely tries to hide) but the cat is like "mrrr?" and brings you over to him, giving the game away. Traitor.

Will make you pay for your half of everything, down to the last yen. So what if you’ve been together for ten years? You have your own income.

One exception to the above: he’ll never buy you presents but he WILL treat you to lavish meals in dark restaurants with hand-written menus. Don’t mistake this for romance, he just likes the quiet atmosphere and excellent service.

He cleans every day; there’s an unwritten five-dimensional schedule and that schedule is EXACT. Zero time wasted. He’ll never actually ask you to help with any of it. He’ll never directly thank you, either. But if you learn how to take over certain chores and do the daily upkeep while he’s away, he’ll love you forever.

Not the type to talk about his day; he’d rather sit with you outside. He values silence. Not because he doesn’t want to talk to you, but a lot of the time he doesn’t have the energy to give you his full conversational attention. Physical contact is easier, and more comforting besides. Just... hold his hand a while.

His scalp gets tingly and sore from overusing his quirk. If you run your fingers through his hair he will pass out instantly.

He will cozy trap you. He’s touch-starved and was definitely a cat in a past life. Will hang all over you if you don't give him enough attention and constantly falls sleep in your lap. Hope you don’t need to get up anytime soon; he’s not moving.

You don’t exactly ‘move in’ with him. He never wants to spend a night without you, but his living space is already exactly how he likes it. He will never move out of that old house, but he’ll give you some rooms to yourself. Your stuff and his... complete absence of stuff... stay pretty much separate. Do NOT clutter up the bedroom.

The kitchen is the exception. That's a warm and cozy shared spot, the heart of the home. You’ll always be stepping around a cat.

He LOVES when you cook for him (so that he doesn't have to take the time). Will shower you with praise and encourage you to make huge earthenware vats of old-timey tsukemono that the two of you cannot possibly eat by yourselves. He’ll help with food prep and knows his way around, but he insists you’re the better cook (even if you aren’t).

Big on actions over words. Makes an effort to be present with you as much as he can.

Will stare into your eyes until you look away. When you look back, he's still staring with a rare warm smile on his face.

God, he loves you. You will never, ever know how much. He doesn't tell you often, but he shows you every day.

- - - - -

Somnophilia???.........

ACE ACE ACE ACE

This man is A-fucking-sexual. He’s not sex repulsed in any way, he’s just not personally invested.

Aromantic too. Deadass doesn’t get the hype. You are the most important person in his life and he’s deeply commited to and comforted by you. Just don’t expect to be seduced; it will literally never happen.

If you are allosexual, he will still be devoted to your sexual well-being. At first, that means buying you a DELUXE toy and encouraging you to use it on your own.

His voice is too damn sexy, even when he isn’t trying. He’ll give you all the phone sex you want; he thinks it’s sweet how you unravel for him. Edging you for ages is a fun little power play, but he’s definitely grading papers while he does it. Don’t be offended. Toshinori has overheard some THINGS.

When your relationship gets sufficiently serious, he’ll help out with his hands. He’s VERY SKILLED AT IT. He likes to lay down next to you and whisper encouragement in your ear. Eventually he gets possessive about your orgasms, and will make you ask for permission.

Sometimes the stars align, but his arousal is a rare bird. He'll take a whole afternoon to prepare. It’s love-making, full stop. Always slow and intensely emotional. He'll cherish every inch of you but might not cum at all; you can’t force it.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa sensei #aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #aizawa x y/n #gender neutral #aizawa headcanons #bnha #mha #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #fred writes

[knivesareout]

My Best Decision

Pairing: Javier Peña x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Smut (18!!!+), Oral sex (fem receiving), Unprotected sex, Filth, Possible typos and bad usage of commas.

A/N: I have a whole ass universe to these two tucked away somewhere in my mind and this scene felt like it needed to be written so here we are. I haven’t written anything substantial in years so pls be nice to me, thanks. You can also read it on AO3 here. Big thanks to @dirty-holy-things​ for being a general gem of a friend and proofreading this for me. Hope y’all enjoy!!!

Summary: Time to yourselves is something hard to come by for you and Javi. When his dad offers to take your little one for the night, you have a few things in mind on what you can fill the quiet with.

Texas was a different kind of hot, you quickly came to realize. Colombia had been sticky and humid, the feeling of your clothes sticking to your skin the absolute worst. Texas came with a dry heat compared to Colombia and it was a change that was welcome in your book.

It’d been about two years now in Laredo and it always made you wonder when you’d stop comparing the two places. It’s not like you lived in Colombia all that long, anyway; just the time it took to complete your Master’s Degree and a few months after, staying behind with Javier until his assignment with the DEA was over. Javi had warned you of all the different things moving to Texas entailed when the decision had been made, even offering up a few other options- like Miami, where Steve had tried to entice the two of you to join him and Connie and their kids. But, Texas had felt right for some reason. Being close to Javier’s father and having that sense of family was something you craved and so, Laredo became home.

Once you had your first child, it just cemented that moving to Texas had been the right decision. Javi had been a mess in the delivery room, pacing constantly and offering to get you anything every 10 seconds. It would’ve been funnier if you weren’t in pain and almost screaming at him to fuck off. Your daughter was born screaming and crying into the world, Javi’s tears unstoppable as he cut the cord and passed her over to you, the gentle grip on her so tender and careful. 

The sight of Chucho crying when he’d met your little girl at the hospital, whispering to her how spoiled she was going to be by her abuelo, was something you’d never forget and with Javi rolling his eyes behind his father’s back, you knew he was going to be just as bad as his father, if not worse, and he was. Tiny little Emilia Anaís Peña had the two men wrapped around her finger the second she yawned, her fists popping out of the blanket she was wrapped in, in search of a finger to hold on to. 

Now, at just six months, your little girl was a handful and that was putting it lightly. She was crawling everywhere and yanking on anything she could get her hands on, and that included yours and Javi’s hair. A moment of peace was hard to come by, her cries loud and piercing if no one was paying attention to her. Javier was always the first one to give into her pleas, placating her wails with quiet songs sung under his breath and a soothing hand across her back. She was a daddy’s girl and you couldn’t even find it in you to be upset about it, the sight always putting an instant smile on your face. 

It was crazy to think there was a time where you believed something like this wasn’t possible- the family, the house together, and anything really beyond a late night hook-up with Javier. Yet, here you were, and Emilia was the perfect blend of you two as you caught her dark eyes slowly drifting close on Javier’s shoulder. 

“Javi?” You ask, shuffling the bills that cluttered your kitchen table into a neat pile and setting them aside to go through after dinner.

“Yeah baby?” He slowly turns to glance at you, his hand spanning across your daughter’s back as he holds her to his chest. You could already see the drool mark on his salmon colored shirt and smile softly to yourself. It was still early, and any sleep she got was a blessing. 3am wake up calls were getting tiring and Javi was taking the brunt of them, letting you sleep.

“I was thinking,” you start, walking towards him to brush a fallen strand of hair across Emilia’s forehead as she breathes in slowly. “Maybe Chucho could take Emilia tonight? He called earlier and mentioned I sounded tired, asked if we needed a break. I thought it would be nice to have a night to ourselves. Maybe actually catch up on sleep, watch a movie.”

You would’ve been offended at Javier’s father calling you out, a quiet chuckle escaping you when he brought it up, but you knew he was right. Sleep was a myth at this point and it was only made worse now as Emilia was slowly starting to get her teeth in. You told him you’d let him know what Javier thought by lunch time, giving him a quiet thank you before you’d hung up. 

The look on Javi’s face was one you knew well. It was his thinking face. Brows furrowed in thought, lips pursed. He was silently going over the pros and cons of being away from your daughter for the first time, his lips pursed. “It’s gonna have to happen at some point, right? I guess that’s fine,” he finally acquiesces, hiking Emilia higher up on his chest while she snoozes. “Call my dad and let him know we’ll be over in an hour. I’ve got a few things I need to finish up.” With a kiss to your forehead, he turns out of the kitchen and whispers quietly to Emilia that her ‘daddy was going to miss her so much’.

You nod mostly to yourself as he leaves, watching as he heads through the house to no doubt hole himself up in the office with Emilia on his chest while he read over papers he needed to grade. There wasn’t a task he did day-to-day where he didn’t try to have Emilia with him. He’d take her to class with him if you didn’t physically remove her from his side in the mornings. Watching Javier hand her over to Chucho would be interesting and you smirk as you walk back to the kitchen to call your father-in-law, a little pep to your step as you thought about all the things you could do in the next 24 hours.

__

The handoff had been hilarious, your giggles quiet behind your hand as you watched your daughter reach for her grandfather with a giant smile on her face and paying no mind to Javi’s scowl. Emilia was just as smitten with her abuelo as she was with her father and she wasn’t nearly as torn up about the goodbye as Javier was. She’d giggled and waved bye with the help of Chucho as you’d left and it almost looked like Javier wanted to cry. He’d huffed once you were back in his truck and remained quiet on the short drive back to your house, your hand reaching for his in a comforting squeeze. 

The house seemed strange, feeling almost empty, without Emilia’s presence despite her toys being scattered throughout the living room. Some part of you felt guilty at your excitement to finally have a night without your daughter but, it was needed and you’d be damned if you didn’t try to make the most of it. Locking the door behind you once Javier was sitting on the couch, you kicked your shoes off and sat down to curl yourself into his side, his arm wrapping around you tight.

“Are you gonna mope around until we pick her up tomorrow?” You tease him, reaching up to tilt Javier’s gaze towards your own.

A slow smile breaks across his features and he shakes his head, looking guilty. “No. I’m sorry,” he sighs, taking your hand from his chin to lace your fingers together. “It’s just weird and I know it’s something that we’ll have to do but I just. Miss her.” 

“I know, Javi,” you nod, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Why don’t we take a nap and then I’ll make us lunch and we can just bask in the quietness for a little bit, hm?”

“Yeah, that sounds,” he yawns, making you chuckle. “Good. Yeah, a nap sounds good.”

As you push yourself up off the couch and stretch, Javi’s calloused fingers reach out and brush across the bare skin of your hip, your t-shirt raising with the stretch of your arms and the feeling of his hands on you sends a slight shiver up your spine. It’d been far too long since the two of you managed to be intimate, your mind blanking on the last time it wasn’t just hurried hands and covered mouths to muffle the moans and grunts from seeking a quick release before running off towards Emilia’s cries.

It’s like Javi’s tiredness is suddenly forgotten, the bareness of your skin a reminder that he hasn’t touched you in so long. A smirk slides across his lips while his hand travels further up your shirt, squeezing along your side until his fingers skim across the underside of your left breast and this thumb seeks out the hardened peak of your nipple to pull between his nimble fingers. 

“Javi,” his name is quiet on your lips and you’re not sure if he even heard it until you feel his hand engulf the entirety of your breast and he squeezes and kneads the sensitive flesh in answer.

“Please.”

In a flash, Javier is pulling you down onto his lap where he still sits on the couch and you’re almost winded at the move as you sit on his strong thighs to steady yourself.

You hate that you want to stop this and move it to the bedroom where his back won’t hurt as bad, where you both can spread out and enjoy each other because the spontaneity of it all is sexy and a call back to your time in Colombia where you and Javi couldn’t get enough of each other. 

When you don’t automatically start grinding down onto his lap, Javi glances up at you curiously, “What’s wrong, baby?

“Take me to bed?”

He gets it then with a quick nod and you know he’s thinking the same things you are and pulls you close to his chest as he moves off the couch and slides you back down to the ground. Taking your hand in his, he guides the two of you down the hallway towards your bedroom. It’s almost comical, the eagerness of your steps, and he presses you against the wall just next to the door of the room once you’re inside. 

“Can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner when you suggested dropping off Emilia at my dad’s,” he breathes against your ear, hands falling to your hips and squeezing them tight. 

You laugh against his ear, his mouth moving across your neck and his lips trailing across your collarbone to sponge heavy kisses on any bare skin he can find. “Kinda figured it was an unspoken thing. I’ll be more blunt next time,” you grin, running a hand through his dark hair and tugging him away from your neck to lock your gaze with his. “Fuck me, Javi. I’ve missed your cock, baby. Please.” 

His eyebrows raise in surprise at your bluntness but he wastes no time, pulling you away from the wall to back you up against the foot of your bed where you fall back, your hands reaching back to catch your fall. Biting your lip as you watch Javi’s chest heave, the tight pink shirt stretched across his chest, your legs instantly pressing together in search of some relief. Even just looking at him has you wet between your thighs and the movement isn’t lost on him. 

Javier is quick to undress, his clothes haphazardly tossed to the side, leaving him in only his boxers where his cock is straining against the seam in the middle. Seeing his clear arousal causes another wave of wetness to pool between your legs and you crook a finger, hoping to entice him to come closer. Kneeling on the bed, he brings you up with him to lay against the pillows and trails a finger down your thin t-shirt to where your leggings sit on your stomach, tracing along the waistband. 

“Tell me what you want, hermosa,” Javi asks you quietly, nose nudging against your cheek while his fingers dip just slightly under the fabric. 

Normally you weren’t so bold, but with how pent up you were there was no hesitation to your voice when you spoke up, turning to look him in the eye. “I want your mouth on my pussy, Javi. Then I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk the next day.” His fingers still against your skin, the side of his mouth quirking up and he sat up suddenly, yanking down your shorts along with your underwear to leave you bare from the waist below. 

“So wet for me already, hm?” Javier spreads your legs wider, putting you on display for him and your body is shameless in the way it opens itself for his greedy eyes. Your hands slide up your tummy and under your shirt to grasp at your breasts, tugging on your nipples while you watch him watch you. 

Rough hands smooth up your thighs as Javi moves to settle himself between your legs. Your eyes follow his movements, watching as he licks his lips once he pulls your pussy lips apart and sighs softly to himself. “Most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen,” he makes sure to tell you before flicking your clit with his tongue. 

Javi is relentless in the way he eats you out, mouth sloppy and slick after just a moment and when he looks up at you from his place between your thighs, you can see how debauched he already is. You blink quickly as Javi spits on your pussy, bringing a finger up to rub the wetness against your clit and you cry out. Your hands move from your chest to grip the comforter below you and you pant his name like a prayer once his two of his fingers slowly slide inside of you. 

“It’s been so long, baby. Gonna have to stretch you out a bit before I slide my cock in you.” Javi’s voice is rough, scratchy and you bare down against his fingers once he starts a slow rhythm of fucking you. “You always take me so well though. Like your pussy was made for me.” 

“Want your cock, Javi. Please,” you plead in reply, your left hand releasing the comforter from your grip and sliding it through his hair and tugging softly to get his attention, hoping he would look up and see the desperation on your face. 

Javier pays you no mind. His fingers start fucking you in earnest, a third slipping in next to the other two thick digits and you can slowly feel your orgasm building. A slow simmer through your body, like a current that was waiting to crash. Your whines fill the room, along with the wet sound of his fingers fucking you. Once his thumb starts rubbing your clit in time with the thrust of his fingers, you feel like you’re about to tip over the edge. 

“Come on baby, can feel you squeezing my fingers so fucking tight. Come on my fingers. Come.”

At the sound of his voice, something snaps inside of you and you cry out his name as wave after wave of pleasure wracks through your body. Your body pulses around his fingers, back taut as you ride his hand. 

Javier’s voice is soft as he coaxes you through your release, “Such a good girl. So good for me, aren’t you?” Peppering kisses across your thighs and up your tummy, he slowly slides his fingers out of you and into his mouth to lick them clean.

The sight is obscene as you watch him, your body still pulsing from your release. A smug grin is painted across Javier’s face and you bring a hand through the damp hair on his forehead and push it out of his eyes. “God that was good,” you laugh, scratching at his scalp. 

“Thanks for the glowing review, querida.” Javier kisses his way up your stomach, tugging at your shirt that had been bunched up under your arms to finally rid you of the last bit of material that was blocking your body from his.

You can taste yourself on his lips when they finally meet, his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip before kissing you slowly. The kiss is languid and soft, your hands grasping at Javier’s back to pull his chest to your own. Your hands wander down to his hips, tugging at the band of his boxers with a frustrated groan when you can’t manage to pull them down all the way and you move away from his lips, “Javi, take them off. Fuck, please. I need to feel you.”

Javier pulls away just enough to tug down his boxers and kick them off before he’s descending back on to you, his cock hard and wet at the tip smearing across your thigh. Your hips move around as you try and line him up, a whine slipping past your lips, desperate. It’d been too long since you’d been able to fully appreciate the heavy weight of him inside you and you were needy, body wanton and open for him.

“Baby, calm down. I’ve got you. Shhh,” he quiets you, a quick kiss to your lips. 

Your eyes widen as you feel the tip of his cock running through the slit of your soaked pussy, the head catching on your clit and you cry out as he continues to tease you. The feeling is torture and you dig your nails into his back, a silent plea that you need more. Javier seems to get the message and presses into your cunt, the thickness of him splitting you open in the best way. He’s wide and long, the perfect fit and once he’s bottomed out you feel pure euphoria at the pleasure it brings you. 

“Shit you feel so good, squeezing me so tight,” Javier  grunts, his hips slowly starting a rhythm as he fucks into you. The slapping of skin fills the room, his cock slick with your arousal.

No one had ever felt as good as Javi did and he knew it, the smug bastard. You nod quickly, agreeing with him as you were at his mercy. “So good, Javi. So good. Harder, please.”

He’s quick to comply, his hips fucking into yours at a brutal pace. His hands pull your thighs up at an angle that makes your vision blurry, calves thrown around his shoulders and he’s relentless as he thrusts into you. You watch him lick at the pad of his thumb, the digit finding your wet clit quickly and he rubs in time with his thrusts. 

A moan catches in your throat as your climax nears, head dug into the pillow beneath your head, legs going rigid against him and you tighten around his cock as you cum, Javi’s filthy words muttered low. “God you feel so fucking good around me, squeezing me like this. Cum for me baby, fuck fuck fuck-,” and he finds his own release just behind your own, spilling hot and wet inside your cunt. 

Your body feels boneless, the tips of your fingers numb as you drag them across Javi’s back as he breathes slow and hot against your neck trying to catch his breath. Feeling starts to return to your limbs, and you card your fingers through the sweaty curls at the back of Javi’s head. “You still got it there Agent Peña,” you tease, tugging the short hairs up to get him to look at you.

The look on his face is pure annoyance and you give him your biggest shit-eating grin as he shakes his head and slowly pulls out of you with a groan before sliding next to you and tugging you into his side. “You’re lucky I love you,” Javier grumbles, arm wrapped around you and fingertips trailing along your upper arm in a soothing motion.

“I love you too,” you sigh against this chest, tucked underneath his chin. “How many more rounds do you think we can get in before we have to pick up Emilia tomorrow?”

Javi pauses before he answers and hums to himself, knowing he’s genuinely thinking about it putting a smile on your face. “Gonna shoot for 5 but, I’m an old man now so who knows huh?” He digs his fingers into your side, tickling you. 

“Shut up and go to sleep, Javi. I’m tired.” You pat at his chest blindly as you yawn, kissing his chest once you’re more settled under the blankets.

He grumbles quietly to himself but is out like a light a few beats later, snoring softly in your ear, filling the silence of the unusually quiet house. Your hands trace carefully along his chest, mind already filling with other things you two can get up to before you pick up your daughter, wondering if you still had your toys stashed away somewhere.

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #narcos #pedro pascal #narcos fanfic #my writing