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lovelybrooke · 2 months

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What’s up with MC? (Platonic yandere Hazbin Hotel immortal au)

So I've really wanted to write some stuff about reader and their life. I hope this helps you guys understand them a little bit more. This doesn't have much to do with Hazbin Hotel, but hopefully you still enjoy.

Trigger Warning for: Very bad/neglectful parenting, disassociation, talks of regretting a child, bullying, please tell me if I need to include anything else.

masterlist

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You were born a very small and loud baby. You cried and cried, even after your mother took you into her arms and laid you down on her chest. Even when your father took you for a few seconds so he could hand you to the nurse. And even when she rolled you down the hallways of the hospital to get your test done. It wasn't until you cried yourself asleep that it was finally quiet.

Life wasn't always so bad, back when your dad was around and your mom wasn't a drunk. Your father worked at a family pharmacy, had good hours and was home before dinner. Your mother stayed at home taking care of you. She would make you lunch, play games with you, and would even rent movies from the library to watch with you. In your childlike eyes, life was perfect.

Things weren't perfect though. In reality, your mother got pregnant young, forcing her to marry your father when she was 20. In her young, 20 year old mind, she thought she loved your father and he thought he loved her. So getting married seemed like the next step when she realized she was pregnant. And she loved you, she loved your smooth skin, she loved giving you baths, and dressing you up. But she didn't like the crying, and the sick days, and the clinginess. She hated having to be the one to deal with all those things while your father was at work. And when he was at home, he wasn't a help either. He was distant, they never talked or loved each other like they did when they were teens.

Your mother started drinking when you were three. It started off with wine at dinner, then at lunch and dinner, then at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Eventually, she started picking you up from Pre K drunk, the other moms could smell it on her. One mom told an admin who told the principal who told your mom that another parent would need to pick you up. You could faintly remember the fight your mom had in the parking lot and then with your father at the dining room table. Whenever your mom got like that, you imagined that you weren't yourself, instead you were a character in one of the books your mom used to read to you. It helped.

As your mom got worse, your father slowly stopped showing up. He said he had more work, his boss was getting older so he had to pick up the slack. When he was home, he was distant and cold. He never wanted to play with you, he treated you less like his child and more like an associate. As you got older you knew it was because he didn't want this life, he didn't like his 9 to 5, and he didn't like coming home to a drunk wife and a child he never desired to have. And when he stopped showing up, a part of you, even though you barely knew him, was relieved. It meant less fights, less loud yelling, and less time spent inside your own head.

You were a quiet kid all throughout school. You never were good at making friends, but it wasn't something that bothered you. With your dad gone, money got tight, and when you were seven, your mom started working at your local supermarket. It wasn't great, but it was better than having no money. That's also when she started smoking. You stopping kissing her goodnight because she smelt like cigarets. You felt bad, but she didn't seem to care.

When you were eight, you were trying to climb a tree in your backyard when you fell, breaking both of your legs in the process. You laid there until the bright blue sky became black, eventually falling asleep and having the strangest dream. Your mother didn't find you until the next morning, your cries being drown out by the beers and t.v. She took you the hospital where you were apparently fine.

When you were ten your father called the house. It was a Saturday meaning your mom would sleep in, and when you picked up the phone, you heard a voice you didn't know. It was old, manly, and angry. He was shouting something about money and credit cards, and when you hung up, he called again, and again, and again, until eventually your mother woke up. They argued for hours and when they were finished, your mother told you not to answer the phone again, so you didn't.

When you got to middle school you experienced bullying for the first time. A girl in your 3rd period made fun of your clothes, which your mother found at the thrift store. You never realized that you wore the same clothes every day until then, and so when you got home you learned how to use the washing machine. From that day on you did the laundry in your house, and when your mother suggest you make dinner, you did that too. It eventually became a routine, you'd go to school, your mom went to work, you'd get home and clean the house, do laundry, and make dinner, all while you mom watched t.v. It never bothered you, because if you didn't do it, who would.

The bullying didn't stop, even into high school. You were the poor kid with a drunk mom and an absentee father, you were the prime subject for bullying. It was never anything big, the occasional teasing and mocking, especially on days when your mother would pick you up. It was embarrassing, to have her yell at you from her old, beat up truck. Or when she'd smoke in the school parking lot. Or when she rant to you about work and get mad when you interjected. You got better as you got older ignoring it, ignore her, ignoring the way she made you feel.

When kids would talk about your dad, you'd make up a different person in your head since you never remembered who he was. You imagined him as a prince, handsome and knightly. You imagined dancing with him, him kissing you on the forehead before you went to sleep, and him telling you he loved you. You guessed that was the great thing about having a deadbeat dad, he can just kinda be whoever you wanted, even if it wasn't real.

When you were 15, you were working on a project after school when your mom forgot to pick you up. You were forced to walk home from school, alone, in the cold, when a car swerved your way and you fell unconscious. You were having the craziest dream until you woke up, in your bed, your mom asleep in the living room, game shows playing loudly on the t.v.

You stopped relying on your mother for anything after that. You stopped expecting her to help you, stopped expecting her to pick you up from school, or to even pay your bills. You got a job and started contributing what you could so you could keep the lights on. You knew it wasn't right, that this isn't how a parent should act. But she was still your mom, she still loved you, right? If not, then what was all this for.

---

A/n: I think I made readers life too tragic, sorry. Parts of this were based on my own experiences growing up but nothing this bad, so feel free to tell you what you think.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #platonic yandere hazbin hotel #yandere hazbin hotel #platonic yandere helluva boss #yandere helluva boss #helluva boss x reader

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mouschiwrites · 1 month

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Thinking thoughts about these guys again

Creepypasta/MH - Things That Make Them Think of You

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Jane the Killer, Clockwork, Nina the Killer, Tim/Masky, "Ticci" Toby

Jeff the Killer

Violence. Specifically, committing it

I know that sounds bad, but he gets so high off of that stuff

The adrenaline rushing through his veins, the wild smile that comes to his face, the noise, the sights... it's euphoria for him

And when he reaches his peak, endorphins at maximum saturation, that's when he thinks of you

It's almost like he subconsciously asks himself if there's anything in the world that could make him happy like this, and his subconscious responds by conjuring an image of you

As if he couldn't get any happier, thinking of you just pushes him higher

This happens a lot...

He'll be killing someone, already over the moon, then he'll blast to Mars when he thinks of you

And he starts associating you with violence; even if you're the gentlest person in the world

It's the happiness it brings him that links it to you

Though if you're a psycho (affectionate) like him, there might be another reason he associates it with you lol

It just gets worse over time; eventually he can't even see other people committing violent acts without thinking of you

He'll be watching a horror movie, and blood will splatter the screen and he'll be like: Nice. Y/n's nice too. Y/n... <3

Jane the Killer

Quite the opposite of Jeff; it's the quiet moments that get her thinking of you

(my reasoning is confusing but I'll try my best to explain T-T)

And there are two reasons for this

One, because whenever she gets a moment to think to herself, her brain always wants to think of you first

Maybe it's just hunting that hit of dopamine it gets when she imagines your smile, or the way your hands feel in hers...

Or maybe it's just that it's become a habit for her to think of you so often, so it's second-nature that she does so when she gets the chance

But the second reason is that she loves peace, and you are her peace :)

She's a vengeful person with a lot of turmoil inside, so when her environment is peaceful, she tries to follow suit

She's just taking what she can get before she has to go back to hate and obsession

So she imagines the peaceful things in her life

Namely, you

Even if you're not a very peaceful person, she feels at ease when she's with you

So, when it's quiet, she thinks of you to quiet herself

Memories of forehead touches and holding hands are more than enough to fill the silence :)

Clockwork

Literally everything.

I’ve mentioned this in a previous post, but Clockwork will find the most random things that remind her of you

She’s got a very creative mind; she can find the subtlest of things that make her think of you

Oftentimes they’ll be disturbing things…. Like a dead animal or smth

But she gets a little smile when she thinks of you anyway :)

She’ll probably send you a picture of whatever it was that reminded her of you

So you’ll just get a text out of nowhere like:

[picture of a dead wasp] “thought of you <3”

After a while you’ll learn to just not ask

Because you’ll definitely get one of these texts AT LEAST every other day, if not every day

Sometimes they’re actually nice things though! Like a song or a pretty sunset :)

Or something she saw while shopping that made her think of you; she always makes sure to steal …obtain those things

And ofc she gifts them to you 😌

Nina the Killer

I think it depends on your aesthetic

To me, Nina is someone who’s very in tune with aesthetics

Even if yours is super niche, or it doesn’t fit under a specific category like “emo” or “butch” or even “clowncore,” she’s got it DOWN

And so it’s always things that fit your aesthetic that make her think of you

Maybe it’s a view: a dark forest, a bright sunset in your favorite color, a sunny park, an eerily empty sidewalk…

Maybe it’s clothing: pants, shirts, dresses, jackets… always the exact kind of thing you’d wear :)

Maybe it’s music: she listens to music like. All the time. So she’s definitely at least dipped her toes into a genre that’s so totally you

Or maybe it’s something miscellaneous: a pop tart flavor, a blanket, a picture, the color on a soda dispenser…

No matter what it is, you’re guaranteed to love it

She always manages to surprise you with yet another random thing perfectly suited to your aesthetic

And she’s always on the hunt for more >;)

If it’s something she can physically bring to you, you best believe she will though

And if you decide you hate it (you won’t, but maybe later when your aesthetic changes), you guys light a bonfire and burn it together :)

Tim/Masky

It’s a Polaroid picture of you

He’s not in the picture; it’s just you

The flash is on, illuminating you and leaving the background in dark obscurity

He took it himself one night when he was just enamored with the way you looked

He did it casually, just telling you to look at the camera

The rest was all you; maybe you smiled, maybe you threw up a peace sign…

Whatever you did, he felt it captured your essence perfectly

He stared at the photo for a long time after it came out, and he still stares at it frequently

He carries it deep in his wallet where no one can find it

He’ll pull it out when he needs to think of you, usually when he’s especially down

Which is pretty often, my boy is troubled :(

He’ll trace his fingers around the edges, remembering that night

Your voice fills his ears, your scent fills his nose, and suddenly he’s aching to see you in person again

And he will; he’ll probably call or text you soon :)

“Ticci” Toby

Honestly? Probably something super obscure related to some kind of inside joke between you two

I’ll paint an example

Maybe you two were in the kitchen together, and you wanted him to get out the milk for you

But you ended up calling it a “mug of jilk” instead of a “jug of milk”

Toby, of course, bursts into laughter

He teases you for ages afterwards, calling milk “jilk” and always pointing out jugs of milk with a knowing grin

You’re in on it too though

You always snicker whenever he does those things

Maybe that’s why it becomes so special to him; it amuses the both of you

He gets to laugh and hear you laugh :D

So (in this case) he’ll think of you whenever he sees a mug of j (oh gosh oh no you guys got me too) jug of milk

And he probably takes pictures to send you too

You’ll just get a text that says “jilk mugs spotted ‼️” and a picture of the milk aisle at the grocery store

He likes to imagine your laugh when he sends texts like those :)

Thank you so much for reading!! Take care my lovey doves <33

(divider by saradika)

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanons #marble hornets x reader #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x reader #jane the killer #jane the killer x reader #nina the killer #nina the killer x reader #tim wright #tim wright x reader #masky x reader #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #tobias rogers x reader #clockwork #clockwork x reader

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augustjustice · 3 months

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Chemistry, History, and Shared Trauma

AO3 Link

The day Eddie’s released from the hospital, he’s packed up into Steve’s BMW and driven straight to the Harrington mansion.

The government agents are still in the process of doing the whole song-and-dance routine required to clear Eddie’s name, so laying low is ideal. There hasn’t been time to relocate Wayne to a new trailer–something Owen promises is happening, though Eddie will believe it when he sees it–and a hotel room isn’t really a great place to recover, especially considering the state Eddie finds himself in.

When the question of where exactly he was going to go had come up, Steve had volunteered all too quickly.

“You can stay with me,” he had said, easy as pie, like it was nothing. “My parents aren’t home, and, besides…it’s not like anybody’s going to be looking for you there.”

Though Eddie had tried to protest, quick to say that he didn’t want to put Steve out, his jock savior wouldn’t hear a word of it.

So, the next day, Steve had shown up to the hospital early, signed all the appropriate paperwork, and then wheeled Eddie out into the parking lot whistling some upbeat, poppy tune Eddie didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of recognizing–but still found oddly endearing, in spite of himself.

And that had been that, Steve hauling Eddie’s cane out for him under one arm and his bag of meds in the other once they pull up in front of the Harringtons’ house, ready to put Eddie up in the guest room next to his like he’d belonged there all along.

Eddie’s mobility is still pretty limited–hence the cane and the wheelchair now sitting in the Harrington’s den–but that doesn’t mean he isn’t bold (and stupid) enough to try to make his way up the stairs on his own.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Steve scolds, catching Eddie around the waist as he wavers on his feet a little, clearly being careful of the open wounds on his stomach and torso. “Hold on, just…hold on, man.”

“You got me, big boy?” Eddie teases.

The flirtatious call back is a diversion, an attempt to cover up the embarrassment of having to be this damn reliant on…well, literally everyone around him, but Steve in particular from here on out.

“Yeah. Yeah, I got you,” Steve says, tone nothing less than perfectly sincere.

Eddie deliberately ignores the way his stomach gives a little swoop in response.

So he leans on Steve heavily as they make their way to the next story of the house, close enough to get a faint whiff of Steve’s cologne, a surprisingly sweet mix of amber, vanilla, and something a little fruity tickling his nose. Once they’re finally inside, though, Eddie does manage to hold himself upright long enough for a quick look around, taking in the digs he’s going to be sleeping in.

The room itself is almost sterile in its cleanliness–neat military precious corners on the bed, devoid of the usual clutter Eddie associates with home. The blue floral pattern that covers the walls is bizarrely identical to the fabric of the curtains, the repetition almost comical, when he thinks about the uniformity of all the houses that line the street. It’s the kind of detail that would be called too ‘on the nose,’ if written into a book.

Eddie’s surprised to find a few exceptions to the cold tidiness, however, and even more surprised those exceptions come in the form of a stack of fantasy novels stashed inside the bedside table and a couple of action figures tossed in one corner.

Following his gaze, Steve turns from where he’s ‘tidying up’ what can only be an imaginary mess perceptible to the eyes of babysitting monster hunters and babysitting monster hunters alone, Eddie guesses. He gives Eddie a wry look.

“Dustin stays over sometimes,” he explains, “the other rugrats, too, but it’s still mostly his stuff that winds up here. Leaves his shit all over the place.”

There’s a fondness to Steve’s smile that undercuts the annoyance in his words.

Eddie thinks back to the months and months Dustin spent talking Steve up to him. How even then it never really occurred to him just how close they might be. It’s strange to think, now, that though Eddie’s spent nearly a whole school year as DM for Steve’s nerdy band of babysitting charges, their paths had rarely ever crossed, beyond glimpses and a handful of long forgotten words exchanged, before that nightmare of a Spring Break. Almost like their lives have been running in some kind of strange parallel, fated to collide, without either of them even noticing it.

Eddie’s not exactly sure how to phrase the feeling that comes over him at the thought, so instead he says, “I can’t believe we’re best friends with a fourteen year old, man.”

“God, tell me about it.”

Eddie takes a few stumbling steps forward and sits down on the bed, honestly a bit proud of himself he manages it with as much grace as he does. As he settles in, he catches sight of a small stack of photos splayed out on the bedside, sitting atop what looks to be a photo album.

Though it’s only a brief glimpse, the two visible pictures alone hint at the whole life story no doubt tucked away between glossy pages.

Theres’s Dustin, several years younger than he is now, in a suit shooting the camera his gummy smile and with a hairdo that looks suspiciously like Steve’s own. And a polaroid shows Robin sprawled out on the counter at Scoops Ahoy, company policy be damned and a book in her hand, Steve’s head just in frame as she flips off the camera.

While Steve fusses over him, fluffing his pillows and insisting he go get Eddie something to drink, Eddie can’t help but think he'd sorta like to hear it sometime–Steve Harrington’s life story. Be regaled with tales, from the photos and beyond, now that they’re here together, after the almost end of the world.

He hopes that, maybe, if he’s lucky, Steve will want to tell him some day.

---

The bloodcurdling scream wakes Steve.

He’s out of his room and down the hall in a flash, nail bat quickly snatched out of its hiding place underneath his bed with ease after years of practice.

Even with his heart racing, he’s quiet when he opens the guest bedroom door, not wanting to scare Eddie or alert…anything else that might be lurking inside.

“Eddie,” Steve calls out, whisper soft as he approaches the bed. When he repeats it, it’s a little harsher, more of a hiss, trying to get Eddie’s attention. “Eddie!”

As he draws closer, Steve can see that Eddie is sweating, large droplets visible where they’ve beaded on his forehead, and he’s writhing hard enough in the sheets Steve’s worried he’s going to pop a stitch if he doesn’t stop him soon.

There’s really only one option ahead Steve sees for himself.

So he gets a knee on the mattress and climbs into the bed, wrapping his arms around Eddie to still him. Even as he does it, Steve worries his bottom lip between his teeth, anxious Eddie might fight against the restriction and inadvertently make the situation worse.

But then huge brown eyes fly open, Eddie’s terror reflected plainly as he stares up at Steve.

“Jeez–Christ!” Eddie manages to get out, stuttered and slurred, cutting off when Steve makes a soft shushing sound.

“Hey, man,” Steve murmurs, trying to keep his tone soothing as he gives him a tentative smile, “it’s me. It’s just me. You’re okay, you’re safe.”

He brushes Eddie’s sweaty bangs back from his forehead, a gesture that would be too intimate in any other circumstances, and then just keeps trying to murmur reassuring shit to him, voice low and gentle.

“I’m here, Eds. I’m here.”

Eddie is shaking against him, but he isn’t squirming or trying to buck him off, which Steve takes as a good sign–as ideal, really, as Steve could hope for in this situation. One of Eddie’s hands comes up to run down his face, his curls shifting against the pillow as he shakes his head fervently.

“Shit, Harrington, I thought–I mean, what I saw–” he trails off, lip trembling.

“I get it, man. Trust me, I get it.”

Though Eddie had squeezed his eyes firmly shut through the come down, he blinks them open again, looking at Steve through the darkness.

“Yeah, uh. Guess you would, wouldn’t you? Probably better than anybody.”

Steve can only nod his agreement.

“I mean, not just me. All of us get them,” he whispers, compelled to say it quietly, as he’s not sure if that truth is a comfort or a burden. “The nightmares, you know? Nance, Dustin, Robin–me.”

“Well, can I just say, they truly and royally suck.”

“Yeah…can’t really argue with you there, man.”

Eddie seems to register, then, that Steve has curled his body around him. His steadily loosening posture goes stiff again, much to Steve’s disappointment, and his eyes dart over nervously to catch Steve’s as he sucks in his bottom lip.

“Fuck, I-I’m sorry, dude. I totally didn’t mean to wake you up with my–terror-filled screams.”

The smile he shoots Steve is self-deprecating, tentative.

Steve’s grip slackens, but he doesn’t pull away, still pressed against Eddie’s side.

“Hey,” Steve coaxed, “you don’t need to do that, Eds. Like I said, we all fucking get them. That’s what I’m here for, okay? I–just wanna help when I can.”

The quirk of Eddie’s lips looks more genuine, now, some of the tension draining away.

“You know, Harrington, it’s kinda annoying how much I know you mean that.”

“Better get used to it, Munson. Cuz I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve gives Eddie one final quick squeeze around his shoulders, wondering if the gesture somehow crosses the line of casual, friendly touch Steve has gotten used to doling out to Eddie since all the Upside Down shit started, the jocular back pats and hair ruffling he’d justified as just typical guy stuff.

With that thought firmly at the front of his mind, Steve pulls away, albeit reluctantly. That said, he really doesn’t want to go back immediately on his word by slinking off to his bedroom, abandoning Eddie to fight off whatever images linger alone in the dark.

Especially not when he hears the almost imperceptible noise Eddie lets out as he stands.

Steve eyes the floor speculatively, an idea already taking root in his head.

“Speaking of, why don’t I just–stay here tonight. Yeah?” he suggests, already tossing the pillow and throw from the chair in the corner on the ground, making himself a pallet.

Sure, it’s not the most comfortable sleeping position ever, but between chairs in the Wheelers’ basement and the cold, hard floor of a Russian elevator, Steve’s done a lot worse.

“C’mon, man–you don’t have to do that,” Eddie tries to protest.

Like Steve can’t clearly see how haggard he looks, peering down at Steve through the curtain of his hair, the end of one strand damp where he’s pulled it up to his mouth and chewed on it.

Steve waves him off. “It’s not a problem. I already told you, dude, Henderson stays over all the time–you think I’ve never had to have a floor sleepover when he was around? Get real.”

Eddie quirks an eyebrow at him.

“...Something tells me you’re not going anywhere even if I pull out my magnificent rhetorical skills from years of DMing and try to argue with you, huh?”

Steve thinks that really Eddie’s just proved his point, the fact that, since Steve mentioned staying, he’s recovered himself enough to be teasing all the more reason sticking around is clearly a good thing.

“Nope,” he answers, voice chipper as he shoots a finger gun at Eddie.

Eddie shakes his head ruefully. “Alright, didn’t think so.”

Without further ado, Steve flops himself gracelessly onto his makeshift bed for the night, the thick carpet beneath softening his landing.

“Night, Eddie.”

“Yeah. Yeah, night, Steve.”

Several long moments pass, and Steve listens, waiting to hear Eddie’s breathing evening out. It’s a sound he has become well acquainted with after many nights spent at the hospital, fitfully trying to sleep in the uncomfortable chair at Eddie’s bedside. When he fails to hear that telltale signal, Steve can’t help but stay tensed, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

He doesn’t have to wait long before Eddie breaks the silence.

“Steve?” Eddie calls out, voice wavering. “Could you–fuck, man, I just need…”

He trails off, becoming muffled as he probably buries his face in his hands again. Even in the darkness, as Steve sits up, he can see the way Eddie’s shoulders hitch with his uneven breathing.

Without a word, he abandons the pillow and blanket on the floor to climb back onto the bed. Eddie doesn’t even look up when Steve’s weight dips the mattress.

“Hey, man,” Steve hipchecks him, nudging him over gently, “move over.”

“Harrington…” Eddie drawls slowly, looking completely lost even as he does as requested. His eyes widen further when Steve climbs into the empty space he left behind. “What’re you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow as he leans back onto the pillows, getting comfortable.

“I know what it looks like, I just need some reassurance I’m not just hallucinating from blood loss or something here, man. Maybe you didn’t actually pull me, barely alive, out of that hellhole, and everything since then has all just been a really, really elaborate dream.”

Steve laughs, jostling his shoulder slightly.

“You’re not hallucinating.”

Eddie continues to stare at him in silent disbelief, causing Steve to sigh and sit up.

“Look, man, I–I get it, okay? All this, afterwards…sometimes it helps, just…being together. Close by, you know?”

Steve had had Nancy and the pretense of normalcy after the first go around, though that had all quickly gone to hell.

And the second time, when the kids truly were still kids, not the tiny adults they were fast becoming, there had been Dustin. The night after their second showdown, they’d slept side-by-side on their own makeshift palate on Joyce Byers’ living room floor, the other munchkins all scattered around them and Steve’s hand ruffled in Dustin’s hair, just the reassurance that he was there safe and comforting.

It was the best Steve had slept in almost a year.

And then, after the third time, there had been Robin. Filling up his parents’ empty house with laughter, movie marathons and impromptu sleepovers. Robin crawling into his bed in the middle of the night because she didn’t want to sleep alone in the echoing walls of Casa de Harrington, the two of them kicking each other like two giggling preteens until they fell asleep.

So, yeah. Together, in Steve’s many years of experience, was undeniably better.

“Besides, this way I can check and make sure you don’t actually bleed out in the middle of the night.”

“...If you say so,” Eddie says dubiously, but he doesn’t argue any further, which Steve counts as a win. He’s learned to take them where he can get them, these days.

But even after his agreement, Eddie’s restlessness is transparent. He fidgets beside Steve–drumming his fingers, squirming in the sheets as though trying to get comfortable, and eventually rolling half onto his side so that he’s facing away from Steve entirely. As Steve peers curiously at the outline of his shoulders, he realizes Eddie is still trembling, just a little.

His heart gives a painful kick in his chest.

“Here, just–” Steve turns until he’s lined up along Eddie’s back and then wraps a hand around his waist, pulling him back against him.

Eddie’s fidgeting stops immediately as he freezes in Steve’s arms.

“How’s that?” he asks into the waves of Eddie’s hair brushing against his face. “Better?”

“Uh.”

The hesitation in Eddie’s voice makes Steve really wish he could see his face, get a better read on the situation. Eddie’s so damn expressive, he might as well be the poster boy for “heart on his sleeve” as a phrase.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

“Are you totally weirded out?” Steve asks, trying to keep his voice casual. “If you want me to, like, stop, you can just…tell me, you know.”

“No,” Eddie laughs, his head dipping downwards, “no, man, it’s…it’s definitely not that. I’m just trying to reconcile several shifting pieces of my world outlook into place all at once.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Eddie turns, then, tipping over onto his back again so he can stare at Steve in disbelief. Steve doesn’t loosen his hold on his waist.

“Steve Harrington. Is in my bed. Spooning me,” Eddie raises his eyebrows at him. “None of that strikes you as weird?”

“I’m not spooning you now,” Steve points out. “You turned around.”

“Dude!” Eddie smacks his shoulder, shaking his head, laughter in his voice. They’re close enough his hair tickles Steve’s face as it whips around them.

“And, no, not really,” Steve shrugs. “Probably doesn’t even rank in the top ten weirdest things I’ve done in the past three years.”

“I mean…after the shit I’ve seen? I don’t doubt that, dude.”

But Eddie stares at him for a long beat after he admits it, eyes bright and brows drawn. There’s an expression, on his face, like he’d like to crack Steve open and see how his gears work, understand him from the inside out.

Plenty of people have looked at Steve like they wanted him. Steve’s not sure anyone has ever looked at him like this before, though.

The comforter has fallen down around Eddie’s waist, the shirt Steve had lent him riding up, exposing the pale line of his stomach. The worst of the wounds are still covered in bandages, the stitching hidden underneath them, but a patch of fresh, purple scarring spills out from the stark white gauze.

That’s the only real explanation that Steve has, for what he decides to break the sudden, loaded silence with.

(Plus maybe, just maybe, it’s one way of giving Eddie a part of himself, one jigsaw piece in the puzzle those bright brown eyes seem eager to solve.)

“You know, Nancy has a scar on her palm.”

When Eddie’s face turns towards his on the pillow, shooting him a puzzled look, he keeps going.

“Here, like this,” Steve tries to sound nonchalant as he takes Eddie’s hand, drags a finger gently across it. He’s not sure how much he’s succeeded, seeing the way the furrow of Eddie’s brow deepens in the low light. “And it’s…from the first time, with the demogorgon? Nancy and Jonathan, they–they lured it out together, and they’ve got the matching scars to prove it. She explained it to me, later, what happened.”

“I mean…that sounds like a gnarly war wound,” Eddie observes hesitantly. Then, his lips tug into a lopsided smile. “Not as impressive as a missing nipple, of course, but, you know–not everybody can be as badass as me.”

“Shut up, dude,” Steve scoffs, trying to bite back his own smile as he very gently jostles Eddie’s arm.

“What I’m trying to say, Harrington, is–I’m not really sure why you’re telling me this now?”

“I was getting to it, Eds. Sheesh, when it comes to patience, you're as bad as the munchkins.”

Eddie inclines his head for Steve to continue, not even bothering to hide his amusement. “You have my sincerest apologies for interrupting, Stevie. Please–carry on, my liege.”

“Thank you,” Steve says snippily, partially out of habit, and partially because returning to the topic at hand is making him a little nervous. “So, like I was saying–Jonathan and Nance, they’ve got these matching marks on their hands, right? And, after they got back together–not to sound like a stalker, or anything, for the record this was when we would hang out sometimes–but more than once I would…I would catch them, just. Doing this thing where they pressed their palms together, like this.”

He demonstrates, spreading his hand out so his and Eddie’s hands line up together perfectly, Steve’s own longer fingers inching out over the tips of Eddie’s own.

“I don’t think they ever realized I noticed. But I always knew, when they did it, they were comparing their–what did you call them?–their matching war wounds. Like they carried this secret little thing that would always tie them together, no matter what happened. And I’m not gonna pretend I wasn’t jealous, at first, but even then, I always thought it was…nice. The thought of having somebody who would always be connected to you, that way, where you could never really erase what you’d been through together.”

A long beat of silence passes between them, him and Eddie staring at each other in the moonlight. Steve hopes, desperately, that maybe some part of what he’s trying to work up to saying is getting through.

“That is…incredibly morbid. Especially for you, Harrington,” Eddie notes finally, a corner of his mouth ticking up in amusement.

Steve huffs out a breath, beginning to pull his hand away, “Whatever, man, if you’re just gonna make fun, forget I said any–”

“Shit, no no no, dude!” Eddie’s arm flies out, gripping Steve tightly around the wrist, not letting him slink away. “I’m sorry, Stevie, I–that’s not what I meant. I do, I do get what you’re saying. Like you said, scars like that–they work like a symbol, that you’ve been through some tough shit together, side by side, and made it out the other end alive. I totally fucking get it, dude. And against all instincts, I do think it’s pretty romantic, in an absolutely metal sorta way. That’s why I said it like that. Just didn’t expect your romantic side to come with so much edge, Stevie boy.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve lets out a dry huff, “almost dying about a hundred times will do that to a person.”

“Yeah, I guess it will. I’m, uh. Still not completely clear about what Wheeler and Byers’ big epic love story has to do with us, though?” Eddie’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “Unless…you’re here to wallow? In which case–I mean, fair enough. Wallow away, my good sir. You’ve more than earned it.”

“It’s not that,” Steve insists, even as he shrugs his shoulders, slightly conceding the point. “I mean, sure, with Nancy…I really thought she was it for me, once upon a time. And so when I saw what she had, with Jonathan–it hurt. Because it was her, of course, but also…because I wanted that with someone, as twisted as it maybe sounds. I’d gone through hell and back, too, and all I got was that nail bat and a bunch of mouthy kids to look out for.”

Eddie lets out a bark of laughter, and Steve grins back at him.

“Not that I’m complaining, or anything. I mean, I got Robin, too, and I don’t know what I’d do without her, or the hellions, for that matter. But, I–”

Deliberately, he tugs up his own shirt, shifting until he’s pressing carefully against Eddie’s side. Their matching bandages brush, an identical swath of white in the darkness, tangled scars seeming to almost curl together. It’s hard, in that moment, to tell where one of them ends and the other begins.

“I just–never thought I’d have anybody else to match with. That’s all.”

“But–now you do?” Eddie says slowly, something cautious in his voice.

“Well, yeah,” Steve shrugs, the corner of his mouth curving upwards in a tentative half-smile. “Now I’ve got you.”

“...You got me,” Eddie agrees quietly, almost like he’s afraid to speak that part out loud. “Dragged me out of hell and everything, Harrington. No return receipt after all that so…don’t really think there’s any getting rid of me now, even if you wanted to.”

“Good,” Steve says curtly, with a sharp, certain nod of his head, leaving no room for any creeping doubts. “Like I said, Munson, I’ve been waiting on this for a while, so you don’t get to run out on me now.”

Eddie shakes his head again, lips curling in bemusement.

“You are something else entirely, Steve Harrington,” he admits. “Full of surprises.”

“Good ones?” Steve asks, suddenly self-conscious.

Eddie tilts his head back and forth, as though he’s considering.

(Later, he will tease Steve about it mercilessly.

“Was that the infamous Harrington charm at work? Bet you tell that one to all the boys you lure into your bed, seduce them with tales of matching battle wounds connecting you like a pair of fated lovers.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Eds,” Steve will counter with that same sincerity that always sends Eddie blushing, “cuz I’ve never said anything like that before. Not to anybody. Not before you.”)

But, for now, it takes only a moment for Eddie’s face to dissolve into a warm smile. Reaching over, he tangles his fingers with Steve’s again, tugging their interlaced hands up to rest against one of the scarred patches stretching across his belly.

The skin feels smooth under Steve’s hand. For a moment, he wonders how it would feel, to press his lips there.

“Yeah,” Eddie answers, eyes sparkling with so many promises of the future, for now left unsaid. “Yeah, I’d say pretty good so far.”

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #my writing #my stuff #my things #me coming at you with yet another spin on an established steddie trope? it's more likely than you think

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fob4ever · 5 months

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i was at a bookstore yesterday that had a copy of the kerrang: living loud book that featured the FOB watergun fight article i've never seen transcribed anywhere so i made a transcript of it for archival purposes. enjoy! from kerrang, may 2005.

For a man staring down the barrel of a loaded gun while wearing just underpants, Fall Out Boy bassist Peter Wentz looks remarkably chipper. Especially when you consider the person about to unload in his face is guitarist and vocalist Patrick Stump, grinning madly despite the fact that fellow six-stringer Joe Trohman has a pistol to his temple. He in turn is firmly in the firing line of drummer Andy Hurley, cackling loudly with his finger hovering over the trigger.

Passers-by stop and stare, waiting for the inevitable, messy climax of this "Reservoir Dogs" scenario. The tension mounts, onlookers brace themselves, the band get ready to open fire. Suddenly it happens.

"Argh!" screams Wentz as several litres of icy water soak him. "That's fucking cold!"

No, Fall Out Boy aren't about to blow each other away, They're having a water fight for K!'s benefit in a car park at the Chicago stop on travelling punk circus Warped Tour, where they're knocking out their "softcore" wares ("We're basically a hardcore band that couldn't cut it as a hardcore band," laughs Wentz) on the main stage alongside big hitters like The Offspring, Avenged Sevenfold and My Chemical Romance. The Windy City is more than just another stop for them; Chicago is Fall Out Boy's hometown, the place where they formed out of the ashes of their old hardcore bands, and where they still live with their parents- who are here for today's show - during the few weeks of the year they're not on tour.

It all started for Fall Out Boy here in 2001 when the members wanted a break from playing in their various bands. Long time friends Wentz and Hurley got together with hardcore associate Joe Trohman to do something a bit less heavy. Following a conversation about avant-metallers Neurosis in a bookstore, Trohman introduced Stump to the rest of the band. When their other bands folded, they took on Fall Out Boy full time.

"We wanted to do things before we were ready," chuckles Peter Wentz fondly of the early days of DIY tours for the benefit of the one or two people who would show up. "We'd plan two-week tours, just to see the world. Nobody would book us, so we had to do it all on our own."

"A lot of bands have scenes to go into and surround themselves with those people," says Stump. "We had no scene, so we would just play anywhere, with whoever."

FOB have come a long way from their humble roots. Right now they're America's fastest rising band. Radio smash 'Sugar, We're Goin' Down' has placed them squarely in the mainstream, having spent three weeks as the Number One song on MTV's 'TRL', a prime-time show usually devoted to pop acts like Maroon 5 and Ashlee Simpson. So dizzying their Stateside assent has been, they had to cancel their recent European tour in order to play the MTV Music Video Awards, where they are also nominated for 'Sugar...'. Thankfully, FOB haven't let the screaming adoration turn them into big-headed twats.

"A piece of shit with legs on it could walk onto 'TRL' and people would still go crazy," laughs Wentz. "That stuff just goes straight by me. With the fast turnover in the music industry, how can anyone have an ego"

Andy Hurley chips in. "You can be today's main stage and tomorrow's trash."

That's to find out tomorrow, though. Today among the madness of trying to plan anything on the Warped Tour - stage times are decided daily by lottery - Fall Out Boy have to try and find time for hanging out with family and friends.

"Three weeks on Warped is like three months on a normal tour," says Peter Wentz.

"Home becomes like Atlantis on tour, you wonder if it actually exists after a while," adds Patrick Stump.

Now FOB are big stars, a lot of old 'friends' have been coming out of the woodwork. Joe Trohman and Peter Wentz have polarised views on those who didn't give a toss back in the day suddenly becoming your pal once you've made it.

"The way I look at it is if someone's a dick to you and you don't know them, so what?" says Trohman. "Just care about who did support you, keep those important people close, not the people who five years ago called you a loser."

"I work the opposite way!" Wentz counters, before adding darkly, "The people I think about most are enemies. My brain works on revenge!"

Though a tight knit group of close friends, Peter Wentz is clearly Fall Out Boy's spokesman. He does most of the talking during the interview and writes the lyrics, and seems like the most driven one of the lot. As well as doing Fall Out Boy, Wentz has also written a book with tattoo artist Joe Tesaure, 'The Boy With The Thorn In His Side'. It's a dark, twisted tale that could have come straight from the brain of Tim Burton.

"I've always been into Roahl Dahl and people like that, and I was friends with a tattoo artist at the time and we came up with this idea to do a book together," he explains. "It wasn't something I felt fitted in with what Fall Out Boy is, I hate when bands do something that's not 'them'. The book is what it is, and Fall Out Boy is what we are."

Despite all thise talk of nightmares and revenge, FOB are upbeat individuals, enjoying their newfound success, while refusing to allow success to go to their heads. They'll tell you they don't like the shallowness of groupies or industry parties, and that the trappings of rock stardom hold no appeal.

"I don't feel like I deserve it," says Wentz in closing. "It's not like, 'this amount of time and this amount of shows = this kind of bus'. I appreciate what we've got. We've toured in a tiny van and it was cool, but now we're having new adventures living like this. I don't feel we deserve it more than any other bands do."

He surveys the sumptuosly appointed tour bus for a moment before chuckling heartily.

"Actually, that's a lie, we totally deserve it more than anyone else! Ha ha!"

#yayyyyyy #article

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chiriwritesstuff · 3 months

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The Girl in IT - 6. The Adults are Talking

A Boss! Joel Miller x IT Specialist F! Reader AU

The LIST │ Series Masterlist

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Summary: Sugar finds her voice amongst the people who want to see her fail.

Chapter Warnings and Tags: No outbreak AU, Boss x Employee Relationship, Sugar Daddy Lite, Smut, SO MUCH SMUT, Age Gap, Older Man/Younger woman, So much dirty talk, Office sex, Breeding kink, Sugar's parents are the worst and treat her like garbage, Sugar finally finds her voice and stands up to her father, Some angst, No beta we die like men!

Word Count: 5.3K

A/N: And here we go, the chapter where Sugar and Joel finally face off with her parents. This does edge onto angst, as I really wanted to showcase just how Sugar's upbringing really affected her mental health, and how she overcomes it. I cried writing this chapter, because I know how it feels to have people in your life just waiting for you to fuck up, and it's something Sugar has had to deal with all of her life. Honestly, this chapter makes me nervous because I know you all are expecting all of the fluff and smut that Joel and Sugar should be having, but I promise this will probably be the only chapter with heavy stuff. It'll be smooth sailing after this!

"So, I heard an interesting rumor floating around the club lately."

"Good morning to you too, Mother," you mutter, keeping your eyes on the road. "Who's the poor unfortunate soul this time?"

There's a brief pause before your mom responds, her voice almost hesitant. "Well, darling, you know I usually don't pay attention to the ladies and their gossip, but-"

"Just tell me already, Mom!" you exclaim, turning into the office parking lot.

"Well," she starts, "I heard that Joel Miller has gotten himself a... what do you call them? A Sugar Baby? Marcia told me that Lenore from Neiman Marcus said they had-" she clears her throat, "sex," she whispers, "in the dressing room! How scandalous! I heard she's a pretty little young thing! I swear, if that was my daughter, I would die of embarrassment!"

You slam on the brakes suddenly, your eyes widening in shock. Someone honks behind you in response, but you can't pay it any mind. The blood rushes to your ears as you start to hyperventilate.

"Sugar? Are you there? Is it true? Have you noticed anything at work lately?" you hear your mother from across the line. "Hello?!"

You take a deep breath, pulling into the nearest empty stall. "I'm here, Mom," you say shakily, cutting the ignition and resting your head on the steering wheel.

"Well, it's shameful, that sort of behavior," your mom continues, "It's a good thing your father and I raised you right!" she tsks, and you imagine her shaking her head in disgust as she inspects her nails. "Besides, I have nothing to worry about when it comes to you, baby."

That's what gets your attention. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on, baby. That kind of behavior isn't something I would associate with you," she coos, "besides, the girl they said Joel was with was really pretty-"

"Are you implying that I'm not attractive enough for someone like Joel?" you ask incredulously, your hands gripping the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white. "What if that girl in the rumor was me, Mom? What then? Would you actually die from embarrassment?"

"... but it wasn't you, Sugar. I raised you better than that, no matter how pretty you could be. I mean, if you just weren't so plain, maybe I would believe that it was you that was in that dressing room with him, but those kinds of girls, baby, that ain't you-"

"Mom," you sigh, feeling the impending headache that usually accompanies conversations with her, "I'm hanging up now."

"Wait!" your mom sputters, "Don't forget about the dinner tonight!"

"What dinner?"

"Oh, don't tell me you forgot!" your mother exclaims, a hint of outrage in her voice. "It's our Ruby wedding anniversary! I sent you an invite. How could you forget? Your father is looking forward to seeing you. Now that you have your big girl job and live on your own, acting like we don't exist. You would think after paying for your education, you would be more grateful-"

"Fine, Mom, I'll be there! What time is it?" you cut her off, the tears already forming at the corner of your eyes. You don't want to be subjected to another one of her guilt trips, fully aware that she'll win, every time. "And I assume it'll be cocktail attire?"

"Oh, yes," your mother purrs, "At 6. I'll make sure the caterers add a place setting for you. Do you need to borrow anything of mine to wear? I'm not sure if you were able to shed those ten pounds I've been telling you to lose. I don't know if anything I have would fit those hips of yours-"

"Two."

"What was that, darling?" you take note of the hesitation in your mother's voice.

"Tell the caterers to put two more settings at the table, Mom."

"Why?" your mother asks, clearly in shock. "Sugar, are you seeing someone? Who is it? Is it someone we know?"

"I guess you'll have to wait to find out," you say, a hint of satisfaction in your tone. "See you at 6!" you say hurriedly, hanging up before she could pry further.

"Fuck." You mutter, slamming your head against the steering wheel once more. "Fuck my life."

Groaning, you snatch up your phone and purse, slamming the door of your Tesla as you stride into the office. With a determined look etched on your face, you attempt to breeze past Connie, resolute in avoiding another interrogation as you navigate down the hall.

"Good morning, Sugar!" she chirps. "So, about yesterday-"

"Not now, Connie!" you mutter, briskly pushing past her, laser-focused on reaching Joel's office. He's already at his desk, his gaze intensely fixed on his iPad, an apple pencil dangling from his mouth as he reviews schematics. You slam his office door behind you, his eyes darting toward you as you drop your purse on the floor. You discard your blazer, shove his office chair back, and settle onto his lap. Burying your face into his neck, the tears you've been holding back start to flow earnestly from your eyes.

Joel's arms instinctively wrap around you, drawing you close as he gently pulls back to get a good look at your face. "Baby, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" he asks, his face etched with genuine concern. "Did Connie corner you in the lounge again? I swear Tess gave her the warning of a lifetime yesterday-"

"Are you busy tonight?" you cut him off, gasping for air, the weight of anxiety from your mother's conversation finally sinking in. "I know this is really last minute, but my mother-"

"Baby," Joel repeats, his hands firm on your arms, steadying you. "Breathe. What happened?"

"They know, everyone in Austin knows about us," you admit with a sniffle. "My mother called, mentioning that her friends at the club were gossiping about you having a sugar baby, and I completely forgot it's my parents' wedding anniversary tonight. I might have told her to add another place setting for you..." you stammer, "... and now I have nothing to wear. I can't borrow anything from her because I didn't lose the ten pounds she asked me to"

"Easy, Sugar," Joel murmurs, his lips grazing your forehead as his hands trace up your arms, providing a soothing touch. "Start from the top," he suggests, leaning back in his chair and gently pulling you against his chest, his fingers rhythmically rubbing your back. "You spoke to your mother today, and she mentioned a rumor going around about us, right?"

"Lenore might have let slip to one of her clients about our... moment in the dressing room," you confess against his chest.

You feel him sigh deeply, the gentle rumble of his chest against your face. "If they only knew that wasn't the case," he murmurs, kissing the top of your head. "You know that, right? You're everything to me, baby. You ain't no sugar baby, not to me."

"I know, Joel," you reply with a tiny sob. "It doesn't mean it hurts any less, though. It's like they want to see us fail, see me fail."

Joel pulls you away again, a serious look in his eyes. "Are you ashamed of this? of us? Do you see yourself as how they see you? Do you think I care what those old bitches say about me?"

You shake your head frantically. "No, Joel-"

"No one gave a damn about my life before all of this," he gestures toward his office, taking your hand in his, "and now that I finally have some worth in their eyes, it's like... I'm cattle being led to slaughter. I'll never get used to it."

"I grew up surrounded by that shit my entire life," you whisper sadly. "Every move I made was up for debate – what clothes I wore, who I decided to bring into my life. It was always dissected and analyzed as if everything I did could have a double meaning. I hated it, this constant scrutiny. I always had to be 'good,' never step out of line, and always know my place."

"Is that why you always felt the need to hide yourself all the time?"

"It's what made things easier, honestly." You fiddle with the button of his flannel. "I hated the attention, I hated that my mother would go into my closet every day and make sure I wore certain things that wouldn't embarrass her, that she would only feed me rabbit food so I wouldn't 'let myself go'. She came from nothing, you know? She was my father's secretary, getting swept away with his money and his connections. She was in my place, once. You would think that she would show me mercy." You laugh to yourself, bitterly. "I was always an embarrassment in my parent's eyes, not pretty enough, not smart enough, not driven enough. I worked my ass off, and they still treat me like they did when I was a kid. "

"Yet, here we are," Joel murmurs, a gentle understanding in his eyes as he reaches to caress your cheek. "You've overcome so much, and you're not defined by their standards. You're your own person, and you've earned your worth on your own terms."

You lean into his touch, finding solace in the warmth of his hand. "I never thought I'd find someone who sees past all that, someone who appreciates me for who I am. Crazy family and all."

Joel smiles tenderly. "Well, you have, and I see a remarkable person in front of me. The past is just that – the past. We're building our own story now, and you're not defined by anyone else's expectations."

You smile sadly at Joel. "I hate thinking about this, about my parents. It always puts me in a terrible mood. Can we talk about something else, please?"

"What do you need me to do, baby?" Joel breathes, "Do you want me to help you forget?" He helps you onto your feet, leaning your body against the edge of his desk. He pushes the hem of your dress up your thighs, the edge of your stockings being held by a garter exposed as your breath hitches on your throat. "Fucking exquisite," he says, his lips kissing your thigh. "What do you need?" he repeats, almost begging.

"I need you to fuck the pain away, Joel," you whisper, spreading your legs further. "Help me forget, please," you beg, your back arching as his hands travel up beneath the fabric of your dress. His fingers make their way up to your core, and his fingertips graze the gusset of your thong, adding pressure as he traces along your slit through the wet fabric. Your legs start to shake as his finger slips beneath the fabric, the edge of his fingertips probing at your entrance. Joel hums in satisfaction. He slowly inches his fingers into you. "Do you think you can come, just like this?"

"Yes," you moan, hitching your leg higher as you place your foot on his desk chair. He slides his fingers into you, the squelch of your wetness echoing throughout his office walls as he prods into you, his eyes dark as he watches his fingers being swallowed whole in your pussy. "Fuck Joel, just like that-"

"Should we check something off from my list?" he asks, moving his fingers away from your pussy as you whine from the loss of sensation, putting the glistening digits into his mouth, savoring your taste.

You nod eagerly. "Yes, Joel. Please-"

"Turn around for me, Sugar," he softly commands. "... and grab onto something." You oblige, slowly turning so you are facing his desk, his hands pushing your back so your chest is resting on its surface. Your hands grab onto the edge of it, pushing your ass higher as he lifts the hem of your dress, exposing your ass. You swear you can imagine his smirk as his hands travel up the globes of your asscheeks, his grasp harsh, squeezing the plumpness of it. He grips your thighs and spreads them wider, lifting your ass to be level with his cock. He starts to grind into your core, your body trembling in his wake.

He hooks his fingers through the elastic edge of your panties, ripping it off your hips. You turn your head to face him, watching as he pockets the scrap of lace into his back pocket. "You won't be needing this," he whispers, and you watch as he unzips his jeans, pushing it down along with his boxer briefs, his cock swollen and leaking at the tip. You gasp at the sight, rolling your bottom lip against your teeth. He rubs his erection through your folds, notching the tip of your entrance. "I'm gonna need you to breathe, okay? Can you do that for me, Sugar?"

He slides in before you can reply, and your voice gets caught in your throat, the feeling of him inside of you so delicious you moan out in pleasure. He starts to fuck you slowly, deeply. "Fuck Joel, just like that-"

"Fuck baby, you feel so fucking good, so fucking tight!" he harshly grabs onto your hips as he begins to cant his hips against yours, the angle he set hitting you just right. The entire desk starts to shake as he pounds into you, and you have half of a mind to say something, but Joel continues his pace, his head thrown back, eyes closed. Thank god for the carpet, you think to yourself.

He gathers your hair, pulling your body towards his as he continues to thrust harshly into you. "You're so good like this, baby. So fucking good for me, right Sugar?" he rips your dress from the front, the buttons flying throughout his office, pulling your breasts from the cups of your bra. He's pumping into you relentlessly, his mouth latching onto your neck. He grabs your breasts, kneading and squeezing. "One of these days you'll let me fuck these," he breathes in your ear.

"Joel, my dress!" you exclaim. "I can't walk around the office with my tits out!"

"We're going shopping after this, baby, don't you worry. You can wear the shirt off my back for all I care, gonna have to teach Lenore a lesson for having a big fucking mouth-"

"Can we not talk about another woman when you're balls deep inside of me?" you whine, meeting his thrusts as you pull on his shirt, trying to keep your moans as silent as possible, not wanting the entire office to hear Joel railing you into oblivion. "Fuck Joel, can you fuck me harder?"

Joel halts, pressing his cock deep inside, his hands harshly grabbing onto your hips. He reaches behind him, rolling his desk chair towards him to sit as he pulls you onto his lap, impaling you. "You're gonna have to be real quiet for me, okay baby?" he whispers against your throat. "We shouldn't be doing this, but I can't fucking get enough of you. Want to claim you on every fucking inch of this office, do you want that, baby? for me to fuck you on every single surface of this office?"

"Yes!" you scream, hopping on Joel's cock as he thrusts up into you, the position allowing you to feel all of him. "Fuck Joel, I feel so fucking full, how are you this massive? Fuck-"

"I'm going to fill you up, make you take all of my cum, make you mine completely. Remember when I sang you that song all those years ago? I looked into your eyes and swore I saw my future children in your eyes, fuck, It's all I've thought about," he groans, and it stirs something deep inside of you, the thought of your children, with Joel's brown eyes and smile, running around in the house, laughing, playing, living a life you were denied as a child. "Are you going to be the mother of my children?"

"Yes! Yes, fucking fill me up, make me yours, I can take it, I can take it! Fuck a baby into me, baby, I'll be so good, so so good-"

Joel's hand goes to your clit, his fingers rough against the nub, rubbing it furiously as you chase your release. "Then fucking come for me, Sugar," he commands. Come for me on my cock and I'll give you the entire fucking world-" He covers your mouth with his hands, his thrusts slow and deep as you fall apart completely. He braces your hands on the edge of the desk as he kicks his chair backward, pounding into you as he chases his release, his face in your neck as he sucks on your pulse point. "You think it'll take this time? You gonna give me baby?"

"Yes! Fill me up, I want all of it!"

Joel groans at that, thrusting into you once more as he falls apart, coming into you deep. You feel his cum fill you so much to the point that it starts to leak out of you. Joel keeps himself inside, panting heavily against your neck. "Fuck baby, I love you so fucking much." He kisses your cheek, pulling himself out of you slowly as he slumps onto his chair once more, his head thrown back in exhaustion. He unbuttons his flannel, throwing it towards you. "Put this on," he says, shrugging his jacket on as you straighten yourself. You raise your eyebrows at him as you button on his shirt, drowning in it. Joel gives you a wry smile. "Cancel all of your appointments, we're going shopping."

"Oh yeah? Just drop work, just like that?"

"Yeah," he replies nonchalantly. "I think it's time we visit our good friend Lenore. Have a little chat."

"Are you ready?" you nervously ask Joel as the two of you stand at the front door. "We can always turn around, say that I'm sick or something-" You fiddle with the hem of your dress, straightening yourself. "Don't you think this dress is a little much?" you ask absentmindedly.

"I think the real question is if you're ready, baby," he replies, a small reassuring smile on his face. "I've been telling you that I've been wanting to scream from the rooftops, yelling that you're mine-"

"I am yours like you are mine." You smile, placing your hands on his chest as you pull him towards you, his lips meeting yours. "I've never been so sure in my life, Joel. I think it's time we stop fucking around, right?"

"I've been yours since the first day I saw you, I was a goner-" he leans in for another kiss as you greedily accept, kissing him deeper, and deeper, and his hands travel lower, and lower, and your hands travel higher, and higher, until they reach the hair at the nape of his neck, and you're pulling, pulling, pulling, getting lost in his embrace. How can something that feels so good and so pure be so terrible to those around you?

"Sugar?!" Your mother's surprised voice slices through the air like a warning shot, abruptly shattering the enchantment between you and Joel. "Mr. Miller?!?" Her exclamation hangs in the tense moment, her gaping mouth and contorted expression revealing a mix of shock and embarrassment. "What on earth is going on here?"

"Mom, I-" you stammer, clearly struggling for words.

"Ma'am," Joel interjects, cutting through the tension. He gracefully presents her with the bouquet that rests on the bench, the vivid orange lilies contrasting against the soft pink of the Rhododendrons he had chosen at the florist. "How do you say 'Fuck you, I've won?'" he whispers with a smirk to the florist while sliding his black Amex across the counter. The resulting display is a beautiful arrangement, yet it carries an unmistakably direct message – as if declaring, "I love and desire your daughter, but I loathe you, so stand the hell back." Joel continues, "It's been a long time; I see the roof is holding up nicely-"

"Yes, well," your mother chokes, hastily grabbing the bouquet from his outstretched hand. "These are beautiful, Mr. Miller-"

"Come on, we're past pleasantries. Call me Joel," he smirks. "Happy anniversary, by the way... and thanks for the invite. Sugar said you guys were talking about me earlier today, so she thought she could surprise you by bringing me along with her."

"Joel. Right," your mother mutters to herself. "I was just asking how she was getting along working with you since she's been so busy, she barely comes around now!" She clears her throat, straightening herself, and glances at you, her eyes darting to the tightness of your dress. "Sugar, baby, what a... beautiful dress you have there. Are you not cold with how short it is?"

Joel squeezes your hand in his, giving you a wink. "Doesn't she look stunning in Herve Leger? Lenore has a great eye, right?"

Your mother fidgets nervously, chuckling to herself. "Lenore at Neiman Marcus? Yes, yes, well... she certainly knows how to flatter the female figure. I wasn't aware you were a client of hers-"

"Well, I had to introduce her to Sugar, you know, considering she always takes good care of me and my girls," he muses, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. You could swear you see your mother gulp at the gesture, her gaze dropping to her nails as she struggles to formulate a response.

"Well, what are we doing out here? Come in, come in!" she says suddenly as if her role as a doting, perfect entertaining housewife finally reboots in her brain. "Sugar's father will be surprised to see you after all these years, you made quite a name for yourself with your multi-million business-"

"Yeah, we did okay, I expect that this government job that we're bidding on might just push us over a billion next year if all goes well." He smiles widely, putting his arm around your shoulder. "Shall we, Sugar?"

You nod aimlessly, letting Joel gently guide you towards the dining room, the laughter of your parents' friends echoing through the foyer. Your body starts to shake slightly, the nervousness of facing your father gradually taking over.

"Stop shaking, baby. I'm right here, alright? I ain't gonna leave your side for a second, okay?" Joel whispers suddenly in your ear, pressing a reassuring kiss to your hair. You nod once more, tightening your grasp on Joel's hand, finding comfort in his presence.

"Everyone, you remember my daughter, Sugar?" your mother announces abruptly as you enter the dining room, her gaze immediately meeting your father's as she holds up the bouquet. "Joel bought us a lovely arrangement. I'm just going to find a vase. Why don't you sit by your father, baby?" A wave of judgmental eyes from your parents' friends descends upon both of you, and you can't ignore the audible gasps of shock that fill the suddenly quiet room.

"Joel Miller," your dad suddenly remarks, his eyes narrowing at your clasped hands. "Now, that's a face I didn't expect to see again." His gaze lingers on yours, a subtle twitch in his eye revealing his displeasure as he presses his lips together. "Sugar, care to explain why your boss is gracing us with his presence tonight?"

"Uh-" you stammer, closing your eyes briefly. "Everyone, I would like to introduce you to my boyfriend, Joel."

The sound of glass breaks in the distance, your mother's surprised gasp shortly following, as if she was hovering past the kitchen in an attempt to eavesdrop on the inevitable showdown between your Father and Joel. You see your mother's maid run towards the door, excusing herself as she attempts to help your mother. You see your mother's friend from the club whispering to the man beside her, shaking her head as she links two and two together, a knowing smirk on the man's face as he looks at the both of you.

"I see," your father responds, adjusting his collar to maintain composure. "Well, what's keeping you both standing there? Take a seat!" he commands, a forced smile directed at his friends. Joel moves to the chair beside your father, a playful raise of his eyebrows as he settles in, and you follow suit in the adjacent seat.

"Sir," Joel murmurs, his hand extended for a shake. Your father eyes the offered hand, clearing his throat before accepting it, engaging in a handshake with Joel. "It's been what, ten years?"

"Has it truly been that long? I recall warning you to steer clear of my daughter even then," he retorts wryly, sipping his drink leisurely.

"Honey," your mom interjects shakily, taking her seat beside you, opposite your father. "Our guests might prefer not to dwell on the past-"

"Dad, stop." You say softly, your head cast down. The emotions that you are going through are reminiscent of the emotions you felt when you were a kid, and you find yourself anxiously fiddling with your hands under the table, your bottom lip quivering slightly. "Please stop."

"What was that?" your dad asks menacingly, setting his fork down harshly. "If you have something to say, you might as well look at me! How did I end up with such a weak-minded naive little girl who opens her legs at the first rich old man she can find-"

"That's enough." Joel cuts in suddenly, his fists clenched together tightly, his knuckles white.

As you glance at your mother from the corner of your eyes, you notice a slight tremor at the edge of her mouth. It's at that moment that you realize you share a vulnerable connection with her. Your mother looks just as horrified as you feel, her hands shaking while your father continues his tirade. The tears start to well up at the corners of your eyes, making your vision blurry. It's a tough moment, and you can't help but see a reflection of your own emotions in your mother's eyes.

"Tell me Miller, how long did you wait to seduce my daughter after you hired her at your firm?"

"Honey-" your mother interjects, shifting in her chair uncomfortably. "We have guests-"

"Or how long did you take until you seduced poor Mr. Miller here?" your Father spits, shaking his head in disbelief, his gaze going to your mother's shaking form. "What can I say, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree..."

"THATS ENOUGH!" you suddenly scream, slamming your fists on the table. You wipe the tears from your eyes, not caring about the mess it'll make at the makeup that the woman at the Laura Mercier counter meticulously placed upon your face earlier when Joel took you on an impromptu shopping trip for your cocktail dress. "Just stop it, STOP IT!"

Your father rises from his seat, his eyes drunkenly narrowed at you as he points at Joel. "You know, when they were talking about the little slut that was fucking Joel Miller at some dressing room who looked a lot like my daughter, I thought to myself, 'No, it couldn't be my little girl, she should know better', but then I see you in front of me, wearing that," he motions to your dress, "Maybe I misjudged my daughter after all. Congratulations, I guess, you managed to sleep your way to the top, just like your mother-"

"I said THATS ENOUGH!" you scream, rising from your seat, meeting your father's gaze.

"Baby," your mother calls out in near tears. "Just let it go, you know how your father gets when he's drunk-"

But it's like you can't hear her.

"So it's okay for you, a rich man in a powerful position to 'seduce' a young woman, make her your wife, and force her into a life where she plays the doting perfect housewife, never allowed to pursue her dreams, always under your thumb? Is it okay for you to think so poorly of your child, your flesh and blood because I decided to fall in love with someone you don't approve of?" you're full-on crying now, not caring that you have an audience, tired of being that scared little girl who never spoke up, never had a voice of her own.

"I did everything right. I wore the clothes you wanted, stayed away from any scandal, followed the rules, and earned an advanced degree at a decent school—all on my own merit. Only to be reduced to being seen as your 'little girl', unable to stand on my own two feet? Is it so bad that finally, I found someone patient enough to wait for me? Do you have any idea how long I've loved Joel? Only for you to tear us apart? Joel Miller is not like you, Father. He's built himself up from the bottom, proving himself to everyone who doubted him. He works tirelessly, supports his family and friends, and is the best boss anyone could ask for. And most importantly, he loves me, never gave up on me, and worked hard to prove himself. But here's the truth—I would have loved him even without all of this," you motion to the opulent interior, "richer or poorer. He never had to prove himself to me. I love him, and that's all that matters."

You glance down at Joel, who's clearly in shock by your confession. His mouth is agape, but there's awe in his eyes, and you know he's proud of you for standing your ground and finally finding your voice. He clears his throat, taking a sip of wine. "Thank you, baby," he whispers. You nod, wiping away the last of your tears.

Surveying the now silent room, your mother's eyes downcast, and your father staring into the distance from his seat, you offer a smile. "I apologize for the outburst, but I believe Joel and I have overstayed our welcome. I'm sorry for disrupting your dinner, Mom and Dad, but I don't think I belong here anymore." You raise your hand to Joel, who is already two steps behind you, and he rises from his seat, taking your hand in his. "I won't be part of a family that doesn't accept me any longer. Let's go, Joel."

"Sugar, baby, please-" you can hear your mom call out behind you as you lead Joel away from the dining room, determined to get the hell out of there. You hear your father telling your mother to sit down, to just let it go.

"What are we gonna do now, baby?" Joel asks, engulfing you in a hug, and kissing the top of your head as you stand in the foyer.

There's a glint in your eyes as you take his face in your hands, meeting his lips in a kiss.

"Do you want to dish out some sweet fucking revenge?" you ask, your hands traveling down to his bulge in his slacks. "Give my poor father one last parting gift?"

His eyebrows raise in curiosity, groaning as you grab onto his cock harshly. "What did you have in mind, baby?"

"Follow me," you whisper, looking around to make sure no one is around, grabbing his hands as you lead him up the stairs, stopping at the door of your father's study. "Shall we?" you ask, opening the door. Joel nods eagerly, a small smirk on his face as he follows you into the room, closing the door behind him. You start to strip out of your dress, pushing the fabric slowly as Joel watches from behind. You push the fabric off your hips, sliding it from the slopes of your ass until the dress falls onto the ground, only leaving you in the black lace thong you asked Lenore to get you, a surprise for Joel. Joel groans in satisfaction as you lean against your father's desk, a wicked smile on your face.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" you breathe, "Are you going to fuck me on my father's desk or not?"

Joel smiles, unbuttoning his shirt. "I thought you would never fucking ask, baby."

Taglist:@sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat, @gwendibleywrites, @joeldjarin, @brittmb115, @thewiigers,

@auteurdelabre, @quicax3, @casa-boiardi, @amyispxnk, @untamedheart81,

@paleidiot, @bbiophiliaa, @laurrrra, @la-vie-est-une-fleur29, @missladym1981 (I apologize if I missed anyone, but if you are looking for any of my fic updates, please feel free to follow my updates blog @chiriwritesstuffnotifs!)

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autisticlancemcclain · 7 months

Text

Keith thinks he might actually sink into his bed, that’s how goddamn tired he is.

It’s just been — such a long day. Painfully long. Keith thought dragging his brother out of Black’s astral plane would make things less stressful, but nooooo. Of course not. That would be too easy. Of course Shiro decides he doesn’t want the Black Paladin title back, and that, actually, he’d like to retire. Of course Keith can in no way find it within himself to force his brother, who only ever wanted to explore, back into the crushing expectations of the leader of the universe’s strongest weapon.

So. It’s just — a lot.

There weren’t even any missions today. Honestly, Keith prefers mission days — they’re a one-and-done kind of deal. You fly into battle, you think you’re gonna die, you panic about your friends dying, usually no one dies, you either complete the mission or you don’t, you go home. Of course there’s the soul crushing terror and overuse of energy that comes at the price of actual genuine years off his life, but that’s so clearly a Future Keith problem. Once Keith parks Black into the hangar he can Stop Thinking About it, except of course for the horrifying and endless nightmares.

But all this planning shit is horrendous.

First of all, Keith is an action guy. An investigation guy too, sometimes, if there is conspiracy involved (and/or some fuckass has challenged him in any way no matter how minuscule), but what he is not is a tactician guy. A planning guy. That kind of shit is for people who have crippling anxiety and are plagued with constant thoughts about how everything can and will go wrong. That’s why it’s a job for Lance. And Allura. And Hunk. And Shiro.

But not Keith. Keith prefers to walk blindly into dangerous situations and deal with whatever is thrown at him after. Black Paladin Keith, however, motherfucker that he is, has to sit down in meetings for a thousand hours and listen to people argue and try not to wish death and curses upon a myriad of irritating Coalition leaders and allies.

Keith needs a goddamn nap.

Not even bothering to take off his boots, and ignoring the Lance-shaped voice in his head squawking about how disgusting that is, Keith stuffs his face into his pillow, reaching blindly for a blanket and yanking it up to his ears. He is going to Sleep, goddamnit. He is going to keep his comm where it is, stuffed under his mattress, and pass the hell out, to be woken only by some terrible and glorious act of God herself. The universe and all its associates can take an hour to kindly piss the hell off and leave Keith alone.

A knock sounds on his door.

Keith screams. Loudly.

“Keith?” calls a voice, muffled through the doorway, and of course it is the one person in the entire world who Keith has never and will never be able to say no to.

“Hnnnnnngh,” Keith responds. He actually tears up, a little.

The door slides open. Hunk pokes his head in, smile sweet and guilty and hopeful.

“I’m going to swallow engine oil,” Keith anguishes.

“Maybe don’t,” Hunk suggests lightly.

Keith groans again, shoving his head back into the pillow. Hunk patiently waits for Keith to get his shit together enough to lift his head again. Probably because he knows he’s more effective if he can manipulate Keith via facial expressions. Ugh. Keith should ask if he can return his friends. Get store credit, maybe. It’s not worth it.

Hunk smiles sunnily when Keith manages to pull away from his pillow, proving his point. Keith scowls extra hard at him.

“I am busy, Hunk.”

“I need parts,” he pleads, hands pressed together and under his chin. “Pretty pretty please.”

“You have a lion that you can pilot yourself!”

“I need the parts for the lion. Duh.”

Keith groans again. He should say no. He probably can say no. If it was urgent, Coran would be flying the castle for the parts. Hunk is coming to Keith because he knows damn well that Keith is a sucker with a saviour complex. Keith is not going to give in this time.

…Except he is so. Because he is a sucker with a fucking saviour complex.

Fuck.

“You’re bumped down to third favourite,” Keith grouches, rolling off the bed and allowing himself three seconds to sprawl on the floor.

“Yeah, right,” Hunk snorts.

Keith growls. Hunk, wisely, chooses against anymore teasing or commentary, deciding instead to quickly back away and head back down to his workshop.

“Okay thanks Keith bye! Love you bunches!”

Keith rolls his eyes, fighting off the smile that traitorously wants to fight it’s way across his lips, and reaches for his comm to get the details of Hunk’s errand.

“I am going to fucking bite him,” he says, carefully controlled, as he reads the message.

MISSION SHOULD YOU ACCEPT: get parts for hunk because you love him so

OBJECTIVE: obtain 174g of Noxalian black ore (pure as possible)

PEOPLE NECESSARY: two so you should take lance probably ;)

LOCATION: Noxalia-1242

DANGER LEVEL: like -2 but you’re so whipped for lance that it probably brings it up to like a 12 lol. loser

He’s red in the ears and it’s goddamn annoying, is what it is, because these are official mission documents, Hunk, which means they are technically public Coalition information once the mission has been completed. Public.

Hunk is the worst out of all of them for that. He actually had the highest record of diplomatic incidents caused, because he is actually physically incapable of keeping his comments to himself and this can, as one might anticipate, offend a large number of people.

But since he is a good fucking friend (the best, maybe) especially because his friends are class four menaces who do not deserve it in the slightest, Keith drags himself away from his bedroom and towards the materials room, where he knows Lance is.

He makes his frustration known.

Despite the fact that he was stomping like a petulant child and Lance has ears akin to the sonar receptors of a Navy submarine, Lance doesn’t react when he comes into the room, hunched as he is over a project of his.

Keith stops short. He grins wickedly, mood suddenly shifted.

Oh ho.

Oh ho ho.

Quieter, now, although he knows it doesn’t matter, Keith creeps towards the Red Paladin. He makes sure his footfalls are soundless and soft, just like he was taught by the Blades, and his body is directly behind Lance, in the blind spot of his peripheral vision. He focuses on the chair Lance is sitting on rather than his actual person so as to not envoy the feeling of being stared at. And quietly, quietly, he sneaks up behind him.

“RAH!” he shouts, seizing Lance’s shoulders and shaking them. Lance shrieks at the top of his lungs, jumping twelve cubic meters into the air, flailing wildly and sending his sketchbook flying at Keith’s face. Lance’s aim, as it always is, rings true, and the spine of the heavy book nails Keith directly on the bridge of his nose.

“Ow!” Keith yells, pain made worse by the heaving gasps of his laughter.

“¡Chingada madre de cráneo grueso!” Lance screams, hand pressed to his chest, and then, for Keith’s benefit, continues: “You mother fucker! You backwards, tumbleweed-guzzling, sand-eating, cow-fucking son of a minotaur! I’ll fucking get you! I’ll fucking — crush you to death! Come closer, Kogane, I swear to God I’ll wreck your shit —”

Breathless, weak, and wheezing, there’s nothing Keith can do to avoid Lance’s menacing advancing. He can’t even summon the strength to lift his arms to defend himself from Lance’s smacking. He just sits there, taking it, laughing harder every time he remembers just how fucking high Lance had jumped.

“You fucking — stop fucking laughing! Asshole!”

Lance’s expression is only growing more murderous. His mouth is pulled back in a snarl and he sure are shit isn’t pulling his punches. The only thing assuring Keith that he’s not genuinely about to die, curled on the floor, completely devoid of dignity, is the ever-present warmth in Lance’s brown eyes, even as they’re narrowed in fury.

“I — I’m sorry,” Keith wheezes, loosely wrapping his hands around Lance’s ankle as he kicks him. “Please. Oh my God. Stop. I cant breathe.”

“I hope you suffocate!” Lance shrieks.

“Lance, please,” Keith begs. With more strength than he knew he had, Keith heaves a giant, calming breath, shoving the image of Lance’s face as he’d practically flipped off the chair far into the recesses of his mind. Fuck. “I’m sorry. You were so focused. I couldn’t resist.”

Lance huffs. He kicks Keith one last time for prosperity before plopping on the floor next to him, scowl still affixed to his face, but lips twitching with a clear attempt to keep it there.

“I’m allowing your amusement because I laughed today when Senator Grmsx called you a toad. But watch your back.”

“Noted,” Keith says with amusement. He sighs, breath shuddering with the last of his laughter, and stretches out, sliding his feet under Lance’s thighs and resting the back of his skull on the floor. He stares at the ceiling until his vision gets unfocused and blurry, making the glowing blue streaks warp and swirl. He smiles slightly when he feels Lance’s arm hook around his bent knees.

“I got conned,” he laments, flipping his arms behind his head.

Lance hums. “Hunk?”

“Yep.”

“Capitalised on your intense need to do things for your friends to send you on errands?”

“Mhm.”

“Sucks to suck.”

Keith tucks his folded hands under his head and looks up at Lance, smiling in a mirror to Hunk, earlier, sweet and guilty and hopeful. “Well…”

Lance pulls away, waving his hands. “Nuh-uh. No way. You’re not dragging me into your shit, Superman. You want to help everyone around you like the tryhard golden retriever you are, that’s a you problem. I’m a bitch on purpose so I can be errand-free.”

“Please?” Keith tries, batting his eyelashes. The thirteen year old version of himself in his head is dying of embarrassment. (Good. He can suffer for a bit. He used to insist on sleeping on the floor because sleeping on a bed was ‘too mainstream’.)

Lance glares at him. Keith can actually physically see his resolve breaking. He’s very smug about it.

“Ugh,” Lance says.

“Thank you,” Keith says, smirking.

“Ugh,” Lance says again, much more pointed. “Where are we even going?”

Keith climbs to his feet, offering a hand to pull Lance up, too. He stretches and shifts his shoulders, leading them both out of the material room and down to the hangars.

“Noxalia-1242. Hunk needs some kind of ore.”

Lance gasps, dropping Keith’s hand. It is then that Keith realises that they were holding hands, and chokes on his own spit.

“Noxalia-1242? You sure?”

“Yes,” Keith rasps, still dying. Lance doesn’t notice, beaming so wide his eyes are nearly forced shut. He lets out this shout of excitement and wiggles, a little, like he can’t contain himself, and it’s so fucking cute that Keith somehow chokes again, which he didn’t think was possible. There’s a genuine concern that he may pass away.

“You should’ve led with that! Let’s go let’s go let’s go!”

He sprints the rest of the way to Black’s hangar, dragging Keith along. Keith tries desperately to get ahold of himself. It works about 27%, which is way more than he was expecting.

Lance is practically bouncing in glee the entire trip, scrambling out of his seatbelt and twirling around the cabin the second they breach the castle’s orbit. He’s actually humming to himself. Keith’s grinning so wide it hurts, and he doesn’t even know why they’re excited. Lance is just — infectious, as he always is; bright and all-encompassing and sparkling.

It’s a struggle and a half to land, and not just because Lance is being distracting. (Or, well, that Keith is distracted by him. It’s not really Lance’s fault. Keith was once distracted by Lance yawning, for reasons he’s too embarrassed to admit even to himself.) The surface of the planet is slate grey and thick with swirling, furious clouds, and it’s a testament to Black’s power that they manage to stay mostly steady, because Keith is a good pilot but he well and truly can’t see shit. The landing is rough.

“C’mon, c’mon!” Lance urges, out of his seatbelt faster than Keith can blink and rushing him to get out of his. “Let’s go!”

“I’m coming, Jesus,” Keith mumbles, finally releasing that damn buckle. He has to sprint to keep up with Lance, following him to the slowly opening hatch.

When they get to the open door, Keith is assaulted with a gust of frigid air and a spray of water. He curses, ducking to the side, hiking his collar over his head so he doesn’t get too soaked. He wishes he’d known to bring his armour.

“Fuck, it’s — pouring!”

Lance laughs, delighted, and before Keith can even think to stop him he sprints down the ramp, into the rain, soaked to the bone immediately.

“Lance! Lance — come back here! What are you doing?!”

But Lance only laughs again, and Keith can’t hear it because of a roar of thunder but he can see it in the giant grin on Lance’s face, open-mouthed, and the way he squeezes his eyes shut and tips his head back and opens his arms to the skies like he’s worried the rain isn’t soaking enough of him.

“You’re going to get pneumonia, you anaemic dumbass!” Keith shouts.

“Come join me!” Lance shouts back.

The worst part is that Keith doesn’t even think.

He stumbles down the ramp without even a second of hesitation, before he’d even realized he’d moved, cursing the whole time, shocked with the sudden onslaught of cold and windy and wet. There’s something about the way Lance said it, not come out here not it’s just rain, dorkus not come get wet!, but come join me. Like it’s not about the rain but about the rain with Lance.

The very iron in Keith’s blood is pulled to him like the world’s strongest magnet.

“If I wanted to get soaked for no reason I’d jump in the pool fully clothed,” Keith grumbles, but there’s a breathless quality to his voice that cannot he muffled.

For the first time since he sprinted out of Black like a madman, Lance tears his face away from the heavens, looking at Keith with eyes that seem impossibly dark with from the reflection of the clouds, almost black as the storm.

“You hate the rain?”

“Yes!” Keith says emphatically, but he hears his own voice like a distant echo, far away. Lance’s laughter is bright and feels louder than the thunder, like clinking gold bangles. Keith’s heart drops to his stomach and his eyes go wider than planets.

Lance turns, slowly, hands still spread wide, face easy and open and peaceful in a way Keith has never seen on him, turned back up the the pelting rain, every droplet doing something to him that makes him glow.

“How could anyone hate the rain?”

Suddenly, wholly, breathlessly, Keith doesn’t. His collar slides from his slackened fingers and flops back over his neck, soaked through. His hair plasters to his forehead and it’s wet and cold and water drips directly into his eyes but suddenly he is warmed from the very centre of himself, ricocheting outwards.

“It’s breathtaking,” Keith finally admits, and he is, this son of the skies, this boy of the rain. He is the most breathtaking thing Keith has ever seen in his life.

He swallows, tilts his head up to the sky, and smiles.

———

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ravenstargames · 2 months

Text

✦ Lost in Limbo Devlog #9 | 02.29.24

What is this?! Two devlogs in one month?! More likely than you think! This February has been very productive for me and the team, so let's dive right into it!

Ooooh boy, Raquel keeps knocking it out of the park! She managed to get done every expression for every LI, and I coded them all! Now we have our wonderful characters ready for their debut. We have been using the wonderful Image Tools for Ren'py made by the talented and hard-working Feniks, whose tutorials and resources save a lot of dev's lives every day! This tool has made everything a bit easier for newbies like me, hehe.

Here's a taste of our edgelord's expressions! 💜 They're kind of a cutie when they put some effort into it!

We also had our second valentine's day celebration art piece thanks to Kayden! Sadly with the reworked version of the demo, you won't meet Vycar yet, so we thought we could ask for his forgiveness by giving him a beautiful bouquet and reminding him how much of a sweetheart he is! 💜

Also, Raeya got a hair update!

So, we weren't completely satisfied with the way we portrayed Raeya's hair, so this has been a rework we were sure we wanted to make. At first we were just going to render it again, but we ended up working on it from scratch to better represent what we envisioned for her. We hope you like it as much as we do! ; v ;💜

As always, we are open to any critique or advice; we are white people who have the luck to be able to ask POC friends for their advice as we work, but the more the merrier! Don't hesitate to send us your opinion to our ask box or even our email, [email protected]!

When it comes to the background department, we have been making great progress thanks to Airyn, who is honestly leaving us with our mouths hanging open every time! Thanks to her, another background has been finished and another one is in the making, leaving only two backgrounds to be revised and approved!

I personally can't stop looking at this WIP! She understood perfectly what we wanted to portray just by looking at an old WIP we had, and this is what we have so far—and it's already amazing!

Allie has been OBLITERATING the script. As of today, I think we have almost gone through everything that needed to be corrected and discussing, and lord if the script doesn't look a 100% better after we put it in Allie's hands. The way she writes, the way she understands everything I want to say even when sometimes I don't even know myself—what a talented, inspiring and amazing writer they are. I know I may sound annoying at this point singing her praises endlessly, but if the script is in the state where it is now, it's thanks to her!

My programming adventure of the month has been a success, if I say so myself! I've coded the characters with aaaaall their layers, their expressions, the blinking animations, made some videos, and started coding the script. Step by step as they say; I've coded 18 pages, and there's, uh...142 more to go. Haha! *sobs*

BUT WE ARE GETTING THERE! We can see the light at the end of the tunnel! I can finally click 'new game' and read the script and see the stuff going on! YAY!

Some extras of the month—we are preparing a Casting Call to choose the voice acting talent that will hopefully give voice to our characters. The demo won't be fully voiced (it's impossible with the funds we have, which are...zero), but if we are lucky we'll use some of our personal savings to pay for at least a few lines for each character so you can get an idea of how they'll sound if we get funded! Raquel is preparing an art piece for the announcement, and I'm getting the document ready and asking fellow VA friends for advice :3.

Also, we have a new member here at Ravenstar Games! Some weeks ago Astro and I formally adopted our first kitty, 8 month old Riki, fulfilling one of our dreams. We got him from a feline association that works with volunteers and fosters cats who have been abandoned, cats they find on the street, and so on. Riki has been living with me since January, and he's a happy, long big boy who loves playing, cuddles, and sitting on my desk while I try to work!

Say hi to the Ravenstar family, Riki! 💜

A productive month full of accomplished milestones, excitement and new challenges! The team has worked so hard, and I've done my part too! We still don't want to get ahead of ourselves, but we have done a lot of stuff we were sure we wouldn't finish yet, and look at that! We are doing so well!

As you can probably tell, my batteries are starting to run low, so I'm going to leave this devlog here. Thank you all like always for cheering us on, for being here in this journey with us, and for all the love you send our way. Let's hope March is as amazing as February has been, for us and for all of you! 💜

#lost in limbo #visual novel #otome #indiedev #devlog

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soraviie · 1 year

Text

them as boyfriends.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ masterlist

━ about: fluff ━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON:

Conversations! I am extremely chill about it but still insistent

Conversations about stuff!

Doesn't even have to be like here's the top 10 reasons why Auguste Comte was a cunt but like overall

Why do you enjoy doing some things and why are these things his hobbies you know

Why he knows that some of his habits are bad but he can't seem to stop them and so on

I always think that Namjoon is very concerned about doing the Right Thing, you know, being an objectively good person within a subjectively impossible world he probably worries a lot about "oh, was this thing I said perhaps going to rub you off the long way", "is what I'm doing with my influence enough, is it right?" "oh, you said it was okay but could it be that when I did this you wish I didn't and so on"

Wants to do right by the people he loves so open, frequent communication he views as an opportunity to improve and be assured that he's not an ignorant tool

A multifaceted individual so you get to see all sides - cute and cuddly, shy and embarrassed, the hoe side

Does absolutely wake you up in the mornings like "get up, sucker, we're going somewhere, get up"

Often says he's bringing you to a little something and it could be anywhere between a specific tree in a park and a booked-out art gallery during the night

Tries to echolocate you if he's out and forgot to take his glasses

He's insecure that he can't cook so he probably cleans a lot

Probably has read an article about weaponized incompetency and therefore tries to split chores evenly and keep them regularly done

He's actually torn up he can't do most things he would want like - wait for you after work or walk along the river freely

So he puts the extra effort in all he gets - lazy mornings, eating brunch abroad etc.

I can for some reason imagine him slow driving a bike at night and you're walking beside

Why is he not giving you a lift? He's scared he'll crash and you'll be hurt

If you can drive and own a car he will indicate that he wants to be driven not by asking but by sitting in the seat and putting a seat belt on in front of your eyes

When on tour or working late nights sends you short videos of the animals he finds along the way (think of that Instagram video of him harassing a crab on the way home from work)

Deep morning voice! Lord!

Absolutely the one on the list to have sex to relieve pent-up anger

Sleeps shirtless

Just get like ear plugs or straight-up knock yourself out because I just know he snores like a whole ass truck

If he's in love, really, I mean truly in love you're straight up becoming immortalized in the songs

Like he assigns a symbol that he associated to you whether a specific flower or a word or a concept but it's a little thing that keeps mentioned throughout

If it's a private track will ask you to moan for it to be used in a track

On like one day in a year when you convince him to be lazy, for sure, sits and watches TV with like a passive-aggressive frown and munches on chips really loudly

It's not even a bad show it's just how his face looks then

When meeting your friends, has an awkward "smile and wave, boy, smile and wave" stance

Definitely plays up his hotness once in a while - sleazy smiles, and those bedroom eyes, there are two wolves within him, a romantic and a player

If you're walking through an art gallery, for sure talks about every single thing he sees

The way you're on his Instagram is by sharing the photos you take, through them he can see the man you fell in love with and he becomes giddy over it

YOONGI:

So hear me out but when Yoongi is crushing he's like a boyfriend, when he's in a relationship he's like a married man with two kids and a mortgage

It's not that the spark is missing (guy can get you hot and bothered in a matter of seconds, you know what I'm saying) but it's literal comfort

Everything about him is comfort

He's like what men think men should be but so much better

E.g. fixes stuff - lamps, chairs, bulbs

Has plans on doing renovation

He never does it but he insists that when he gets the free time-!

"Next weekend."

"Yoon, you said it last weekend."

"Yeah, and eventually I'll do it. Consistency is key."

If he's home and you're there cooks meals 100%

For some reason, I always think he's really into cooking breakfast

It's more likely for him to cook breakfast than dinner because he would oftentimes order it in

Soft lighting in the apartment, no overhead lights

His type of touching is subtle

When you're watching say a movie, he doesn't lean into you wholly but like sits and keeps a hand slumped on your knee

Listen to this - fleeting hand holding

If you're keeping your hand on the table and he's near, he'll stroke your hand for 3 seconds take it away and repeat

Touches your pinky with his - it's like saying "hey"

Now hear me out, gossip

Jimin is for sure the no.1 gossiper but Yoongi is not too far behind himself

You're getting the freshest hottest brew about every single idol and producer he finds repulsive

Not too big of an outdoors guy but he'll do literally anything for you so if you want to go on like a few-day retreat, you sit him down and ask him:

"Is this something you want?"

"Yes -ㅅ-"

"Be honest! Are you really okay with going away this weekend and doing absolutely no work?"

"You'll be happy -ㅅ- yes -ㅅ-"

Hates it but you're happy so he's happy

I think he gets a little bit insecure about his partner not being to be able to do a lot of things so he spoils them a lot - trips and rest days and such

Is a hypocrite though

If you drink a lot of coffee nags the shit out of you only to drink seven cups himself

And here's the hill I'm going to die on - really strict when it comes to eating sweets before proper meals

He might be chill when you say you're not hungry, it sometimes happens you know, but will not! have it! for you to eat candy before dinner!

"What are you - my mom?" you sneer as he shOVES a pack of gummy worms into a deep, dark corner of a pantry where it most likely will never see the light of the sun ever again

"I'll call her," he warns, stirring whatever he was cooking that evening. "Don't test me."

Fights with him are rare and very diplomatic

He treasures you a lot so he takes a logical stance and flat out states "we both could say something hurtful, let's take a breather"

If you're in a foul mood and anNOYED at everything and itching for a fight, he'll cock an eyebrow and just say: "Is that really something you want to be spoken out there?"

Sometimes gets you cute plushies

You once walked in on him reading omegaverse fanfic and no, there is no backstory, nor an explanation given

Holds an incredibly harsh critique of snacks

Tastes a chip, hates it, discARDS the packet with a "d i s g u s t i n g"

You will absolutely hear a fuck ton of "back in my day" and "these are not Korean nuts, these are x nuts, they're no good"

Somehow I think he shits himself more before meeting your friends than parents???

Because he knows how to get along with older people but your friends who are convinced he's going to cheat on you, he's nothing but another over-inflated popstar stroking his ego? not a clue, he's a lost boy

He's so humble and helpful that, of course, he wins them over

Probably has driven your friends somewhere where they need to be, like a reception, probably offered his car for moving purposes (does anyone else help their friends move in and out of places?)

When on long car rides absolutely tries to gaslight you by saying the most impossible shit like:

"Of course, there is."

"There are no rivers in the Gobi desert!"

"But there are! Ancient people, how do you think they managed to travel all that distance? It's because they got to the river and that replenished them halfway."

Actually just wants to talk to you and this is an easy way to do so

dRUNK Yoongi just think about it and enjoy, he's so giggly and smiley and probably calls out for you with annoying frequency

Your nickname is an inside joke, many don't think it's cute at all but you know better and that's what's important

JIN:

Gets irrationally shy even after dating you after a while, say, you're changing and he walks in, for some reason puts a hand in front of his eyes??

Definitely covers his body if you're checking him out

"Can we please have some respect? Some decorum?" he whines, neck flushing at an alarming speed

Annoys you a lot, he's the annoying boyfriend

Tells the most ridiculous things, like:

"______________, I was in the bathroom and I did this," flicks hair. "And wow, I'm just so handsome. You must be a very strong person indeed to be able to bear it every day."

His confidence is a Schrodinger's cat - half true, half - farce

Somedays he wakes up and doesn't feel it at all and hides away from you saying he's ugly right now

Please assure him a lot during that time

If you work too much he's the best remedy for that

Jin is wise and helps you see how your time is the most important thing, that you don't have to prove your existence to anyone and can occupy space without proving your worth over and over again

Conversations with him don't often delve into deep waters but at the same time you don't feel unheard because he listens very attentively even if he doesn't share these anxieties and concerns

Does, unfortunately, give you secondhand embarrassment quite often

Has and will wear ridiculous outfits that have people turning their heads around

You're trailing with him, hand in hand, head low and Jin's ears too are flaming like gasoline on fire but who is he to prohibit himself from indulging things

Most likely to want morning sex, I will not elaborate

He has a special soft smile for when he feels properly cared for and babied

Appreciates being given flowers, hair tugged behind the ear

He doesn't give a fuck what's a norm, it makes him feel nice, fuck you, he'll continue doing it

If you find fishing boring, sorry you'll have to put up with it

"I guess this will be our thorn, honey, you'll just have to endure this for love"

He takes no shit, not even from you but in return never, ever prohibits you from enjoying things

For example, diving into ice-cold water in a lake is not his idea of a fun time but if you enjoy it, he'll be by the side shivering with a towel and a thermos

Definitely, 100% rehearses meeting your parents and quizzes you on his

It is no surprise at all when you meet that both of you know just the right words, the right gestures

Jin loves his family and to be put in a conflict between you and them is a walking nightmare

So he does his best to avoid that

You often eat at very random places scattered throughout the town and sometimes out of it

One day it's a luxury five-star restaurant in a penthouse, the next you're sitting on a wobbly chair at a marketplace, eating a small vegetable or meat skewer from a plastic cup

But Jin always knows how to bring a good time, so both times are just perfect

HOSEOK:

Okay so if this makes sense but Hoseok is the type of boyfriend who wants you to improve

So he wouldn't be super clingy or overly protective or madly jealous but he shows his care by reminding you to do self-care

Like skincare routine, morning and night he's there to ask you if you did it

Or whether you ate well, why not, why are you neglecting care in your life

I don't see him as overly romantic like big-ass gestures but really consistent care from the start

Now hear me out and don't tussle, he partially views you as a responsibility and a project

and befORE YOU GET PITCHFORKS LEMME TELL YOU SOMETHING

He works hard, correct?

He's a strict teacher and absolutely works himself 100% for maximum improvement

And it's not like he's hovering over you like a helicopter parent, moulding you into a version of his liking I just think he wants you to be the person you really like

So obviously it depends on what your goals are but he's really quietly motivating you to do better for yourself

It may not sound most romantic but at its core he wants you to be happy and I think he realises that it doesn't always just means being loved by a close person

So he wants you to improve, feel better about yourself and feel better about the world in such a way

Because the world is a very dark place, it can't handle even more negativity

Kinky, 0 explanation iykyk

A hype man for sure

If you're ever feeling like you can't do something he'll convince you that at the very least there's not so much loss involved as you think

Handmade jewellery especially if he's been away for a long time

I imagine him sitting at a studio, taking like a 15-minute break and he's tinkering with beads, arranging them and stringing them into a bracelet tailored to your interests

Buys you clothes more than anything else say like a car or a house

He splurges reasonably

Though them triangle bags he had back in the day cost like 300 that's my whole rent homie

It's hard to read what he'd be like as a boyfriend but out of all most likely to feel like a friend with added stuff

Which isn't bad at all

I think he struggles between the view of love in the traditional sense he's been taught and interpreting it his own, more peculiar way

Buys subtly matching clothes

Has a private Instagram and definitely hypes you up there

If he's upset but not overtly mad, he'll lie in the bed and Complain using full VFX of Hobi sound effects

Somehow managed to friendzone you once

As an act of revenge, you did that as well and now has learnt his lesson

100% has inner demons but out of all is the most likely to not share it, above Yoongi, above all

He doesn't struggle with communication per se but struggles with understanding that he himself can have faults and he doesn't have to do everything alone

He holds people he loves in high standard hence why he's so insistent on self-care; on being the best you can be within your own eyes, so it makes complete sense that he holds himself up to the highest standard, cutting himself the least amount of slack

Makes you feel like you're the most hilarious person in the world but doesn't talk much at home

If you feel awkward at an event and pressured will leave immediately, I just have a sense about this

JIMIN:

Has a knack for jealousy but the type to end with you being railed the entire night with his jaw clenched

I know we all like his cute side but he can be scary

He can be standoffish and sharp he just mostly chooses to not be

He chooses the high ground though that doesn't always mean he wants to take one

So if you have an ex he particularly loathes he will be near poisonous to that person

But lets it go because it's not about them, it's about you and you deserve his undivided attention

He needs assurance a lot because I think he's convinced himself you'll leave because honestly, it's a hard lifestyle to tolerate in a partner

Touchy but listen to this his favourite is not hugging you but leaning into you

Because it can be so variable

Like cutely leaning onto you whining at you at a full volume or pressing his nose in your cheek with a smirk

I have a feeling he'd enjoy it if you have some temper

He hates fights, absolutely abhors them, and probably has fights because he didn't voice something in the first place because he didn't want to fight

But if you're mad at someone else? If you're angry and getting heated and being bossy?

He just ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

But he often has ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) he's in tune with his sensual side

Speaking of sensual, reads the most toe-curling, filthy romance books in his free time

I'm talking like casually sipping coffee and calmly listing through like a BDSM orgy

He's the type to try everything once, within reasons

Often when talking has a soft, whiny voice and holds a part of your body rubbing circles there

I can't imagine his flirty nature not getting him in trouble at some point

But he makes his commitment known in very intense ways

Like gripping your jaw, making eye contact and saying something along that he can't even sleep without you, you're in his bloodstream

Kind of corny but manages to make it sexy because it's Park Jimin

He wants to know everything about you - what you're thinking, why you're thinking it, what made you to be who you are now and who you want to be tomorrow

Desires to make eye contact

Steals more of your clothes than you do his

Drunk, kind of out of it dancing to slow, sexy songs is a MUST for him

In a way there are two parts to being loved by him which are very representative of his sides - one is cute and cuddly, wanting you to be happy, like an idealized version of kids being in love and the other one is hungry

He wants you in and out, if you're not his in the understanding that he knows you best, that he can please you physically and please you mentally by giving you comfort, he's not happy

Sentimental, probably secretly keeps tokens of yours from the beginning of the relationship

Has a copy of all your childhood pics, argue with a wall

The one true no. 1 gossiper, he knows everything about everyone like your workplace for example

He knows why exactly that co-worker of yours left for a two-week vacation and the reason is salacious as all hell while you could be sitting there - "I have a coworker by that name?"

If you're out and he sees someone being rude, will viOLATE them

His sense of humour could make a person suicidal fr

But unlike some, he uses his inside voice

Has things that annoy him in your relationship but I don't think he says it unless it's really bad

He lets small grudges pass hoping to preserve the balance

Because only the mere thought of you leaving terrifies him

Once Jimin ties himself to someone, genuinely, he doesn't want to let them go for nothing

If you're away for a long time, let's say going abroad or really busy with work, his emotions get the best of him and he gets quite upset

But he hides it and frankly somewhat succeeds

But you can also tell when you return home that he was missing you like crazy

He needs to be pampered then, reassured that everything's fine

Does everything you want even if it's not what he would usually do

If you feel like driving for a while to stare at the moon, he absolutely would

Seduces you over and over again

Partially I think the reason he changes up his behaviour so much is to make sure he's keeping you on your toes and you wouldn't leave

It's lowkey a phobia of his

It's so obvious he's dating you

You can just see the Love

Also if he would just stop glARING at strangers for bREATHING your direction, that would be great

Reminds you to do a lot of things but also needs those reminders as well

Often so tired he forgets to do basic things so you have to wrangle him to take a shower or brush his teeth before bed because he really works himself very hard :(

If you're on your phone when it's time to sleep will yANK it away like a mOTHER

Love to him means sticking together - always

TAEHYUNG:

bops

Oh, you're expecting an explanation?

You're not getting any :)

Very soft

Also very weird

Being his partner means being his interpreter at times

You two have probably developed a language of your consisting chiefly of sounds

Sends you a shit ton of selfies

Mostly stupid and often blurry

He's a blurry sort of guy

Has sent a selfie taken from underneath his nostril

You could be sitting at work and he sends you a wet, shirtless selfie

Cause he's a menace

Big enthusiast of having soft lights as well

It makes the atmosphere feel more intimate

Everything is about intimacy when he's with you

Emotional, spiritual, physical

Where Jimin is in love with love, Taehyung loves romance

So big, classic, romantic gestures are a part of the Kim course

Date nights are unavoidable even let's say you're in two different countries he'll find a way

Sometimes by spontaneously flying out, sometimes by arranging the most ridiculous zoom call known to man

Like the camera placed where you would sit across the table with a restaurant dinner in front

Buys you lingerie, jewellery and fancy clothes

Teases you about loving him

"Ah, ______________ your passion for me makes a guy shy."

Cue to you sitting like -_-

Cause by now you're tiRED

I imagine he does get on your nerves a lot but by weaponizing all of that infamous charm at this point you're convinced he could get away with breaching the Geneva conventions

Always looks at you like he's done absolutely NO WRONG

Even if it happened like 3 seconds ago

Gatekeeps you in a way

He wants you all to himself and he's afraid if you don't like his friends, you might end up not liking him as well

Really values your opinion of him

Has gone to a fortune teller to ask how your future would look like

When you're going through a tough time, he "lends" you his angel

Misses you like crazy when you're apart

And sometimes even when you're here

If he's miraculously drunk, you're not getting him off you

Fucking Clingatron 3000 over here practically treats you as a plushie when you go to sleep

If you're the more reserved type, he's simply over the moon trying to make you flustered

And if you're really cuddly, he invites it eagerly and joyously

Jump atop of him and he'll laugh head thrown back onto the bed

Absolutely the type to find you being angry quite cute, with the exception that you're not so mad you're breaking up with him

This is of course really annoying because what if you want to establish dOMINANCE

Well good luck with that

He'll just smooch you to pacifism

Is lowkey always horny

Has kinks but I do not have the strength to think about them

Every week attempts to cook a fancy meal which ends up being an inedible concoction tasting like an armpit sweat

Promises to not do it again but lo and behold next week!

Watches a lot of movies with you

Watches you if you're out

Really zones out when you're ordering or simply waiting for something

If you're both at home plays soft music in the background so he could pull you into dance at any time

Fresh flowers whenever the old ones wilt down :(

Brings you to a lot of hipster cafes late in the evening

Quite often says the most inappropriate shit at absolutely the wrong place and time

For example, you're about to throw the bins out and he casually lets it slide -

"What if we tried for a baby right now?"

Smiles at his phone when texting you

Recalling back to the finding you cute when angry, definitely smiles and chuckles to himself if you're being huffy and complaining about work or what some dumbass did today

Begs you to share food

The type to bump into you playfully when walking

If he's going to bed, you're going to bed (can't sleep without his plushie)

Increasingly ridiculous nicknames - honey, babe, dearest, flower, sweet bean, rice cake, jujubii (warps it to sound more cuter version of jujube)

Eats up every capitalized love celebration ever invented - white day, rose day, his own made - "our first kiss day"

Really sentimental in that way

I think he wants love to feel more like a movie than it necessarily is so tries his hardest to make that dream a reality

JUNGKOOK:

It is often and with an honestly worrying frequency that you think there is nothing but mii music behind those eyes

Zones out a lot

Stops mid-sentences

Sometimes forgets to listen when you're ranting

It's because he feels safe with you

He feels that he doesn't have to make perfect sense so his mind wanders a lot because he's very relaxed when with you

The type of guy who holds your legs crossed in his lap, one hand caressing your calf when watching a movie

Speaking of movies, yes, you probably have a whole list of tv shows to watch together

(which he absolutely cheats by squeezing in extra screen time)

But you know what he absolutely does

Plays the most horrible otome games known to man

I'm talking about the horse dating simulator, every and all butler romances in the app store

At first, it's just to make fun of it

But then naturally gets really competitive and complains quite hard if the butler he's supposed to be romancing doesn't like him

"Why are men so hard to please?" he growls, fingers gripping the phone so hard the knuckles are white. "I spent 45 diamonds on this dress and "okay" is all YOU CAN SAY?!"

Though you started the game together, he's the one to finish them because it's just slightly hard to develop a romantic interest in an anime pigeon for you but not for Jungkook

Does as he's told when it comes to chores - washing dishes, cleaning, laundry, does it all eagerly

If you're messy, nags you but doesn't go as hard as, for example, Hoseok

Before you stop by his apartment, 100% tried to make it more "palatable" for you

Meaning, shOVES those 7 mattresses of his lying around into a closet or something

Whilst he's pouring a glass of wine you hear a crash come from somewhere

"What's that??" you ask and he sweats, absolutely shits himself

"Nothing," he replies, voice squeaky

"Didn't sound like nothing..."

"...dON't even worry about it."

If he has to take out the bins and your high-heeled shoes are the only thing available, he'll be strutting down to the garbage like a Victoria's Secret model

Has switched those LED lights to red to try and dance sexily in front of you only to bump his crotch into the corner of a closet

You're 90% of his impulse control so if you're gone, expect to see him with one eyebrow upon returning

Has cried at least once about thinking how much he loves you

Turns up his hotness just to see what happens

Is HIGHKEY ready to go at any given point

Even if he's dead tired, he's like "just a quick, lazy sesh, okay 🥺🥺🥺"

If you're scolding him also does this 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Finds it absolutely hilarious and endearing if you're bossy

Obeys whilst giggling all throughout

Your ass is a source of comfort for him, it's not your ass it's OUR ass once you're with him

If you're close with your family, probably the one most likely to spend a lot of time with them (of course, only with you there cause he cannot handle that tension A L O N E)

When you first brought him to meet the fam, anytime you tried to leave he would look at you with a smile on his lips but wide panicked eyes, hissing:

"do nOT leAVE me"

"I need to go to the bathroom..."

"Hold it! for the love of gOD hOLD iT."

After a while, he's a bit more chill, the type to be brought along to every camping trip and cookout

Is probably used for labour by your relatives

No, does not send you memes, he's breaking the Gen Z stereotype as he's not attached to the hip with his phone

Makes a conscious effort to spend enough time with you

He can be weaponized to kill bugs, shoo away birds, glare threateningly at strangers

Gently wrestles you for fun

Really enjoys it if you take care of him, like put hair oil in his hair, massage his shoulders, cream his hands etc.

Doesn't like spending a lot of time hanging around somewhere so he whines in your ear

"Are you going to be done soon?"

"We just got here. I need to buy a new shirt."

"You have plenty at home and they all look great on you. Let's just go eat. There's online shopping for a reason."

Gets jealous a lot but never gets angry at you and quickly lets it go

Mostly pouts and fusses if he thinks you're being too friendly with someone

Sometimes utilizes you as weights whilst working out

Like makes you lay on top of him when he's doing push-ups

Adores if you try to manhandle him only to then show you how it's really done by taking a hold of your legs and hoisting you around his waist

You have had a talk about whether he'd choose Namjoon over you and the results of that debate were relayed to Namjoon himself who just looks at you both with a frown that says "what the hell are both of you on"

Gets lowkey combative if you have bad habits that impact your health like smoking, too much drinking, or not eating regularly

Health to him is very important in spite of you pointing out the hypocrisy of it

As he often fails to take proper care of himself

But he tries so he wants you to try your best as well

Makes a secret tattoo about you

Like your favourite flower, or a favourite thing

Similar to how Namjoon immortalizes you in a way, but on his flesh

Sings around the house but is too shy to give you concerts

Sneaks you into the studio, however, for you to express your opinion

Sneaks you into a lot of places

Like an afterparty or a press conference

A member will see you and wonder out loud:

"I think I saw _____ walking by."

"You're just getting old, seeing things," Jungkook replies trying not to seem too guilty

You can absolutely tell if he has a surprise planned for you

"Jungkook, are you planning to bring me on a secret date?"

"0.0 no 0.0"

If you're mercilessly destroying him at a game, he threatens to cry

Would get upset at you for something he dreamt

Glares at you over coffee cup:

"You said you liked Yoongi better than me."

"In a dream you Dumbo," you roll your eyes. "I'm literally making you breakfast."

He answers with a vague hum, then turns up his nose, all offended:

"Said you liked his hip thrust more."

Wants to adopt more dogs, so you'll have someone to keep you company when he's on tour :( and so that they could protect you in case of home invasion or stalkers

828 notes · View notes

funshape · 2 months

Text

haii. hellowwwwe introducing Meee :3

🔴 im kaz!

🔸19 (bday on april 1st!!!!)

🟡 he/him, dont refer to me by they/them please. also im an aro gay guy lawl

❇️ hispanic + latino 🇵🇷

🌀 im an artist and cartoonist! im a full time art student and i am very passionate about character design and illustration. im also developing a comic, and im very passionate about storytelling!

🟣 i have several mental disorders and dont do very well with social interaction, please forgive me if im not very talkative or communicative @_@

💖 my i have a lot of interests but the main ones are my ocs, flightless birds, reptiles, various design aesthetics of the 80s-90s like factory pomo and global village coffeehouse, theme park history, venture bros, metalocalypse, horror media, cartoons from the 2000's, and music like new wave, prog rock and funk metal (i loveee mr bungle, ween and primus dont even get me started). i love music a lot so if you have any recommendations feel free to send them over to me ^_^

please dont follow me if youre under 15, also if you're a pr0shipper/'anti-anti' or a t3rf or a zi0nist or anything similar (censoring because tumblr is annoying) Get Off My Page Forever

though i do get jokey and less serious here sometimes, i also want to make it known that i will always try to use my platform to boost the voices of people who are suffering at the hands of injustice and oppression. im very fortunate to live the life that I do and making my followers aware of issues that arent as widely reported on is very important to me. if youre one of those people who only likes it when people on here goof off all the time and you 'get annoyed' when people actually try to raise awareness about serious issues, then youre not someone i want to be associated with frankly

i ask that you refrain from acting too overly familiar with me like referring to me as your friend when we've never really talked, stuff like that. im really sensitive to stuff like that and seeing people act like that towards me just kinda icks me out. please respect me and my boundaries

thats about it i think! uhh yeah. my other socials are belowwww if you wanna go follow me on those places! have a nice one ok bye

twitter / youtube / toyhouse / art blog / kofi / insta (not super active there, i just use it to talk to my friends jsyk

also if you wanna get in touch with me the easiest way is to dm me on discord! my username over there is papaplasmic. i tend not to use the dm features on other apps including tumblr so if you wanna talk with me thats the easiest way as im always on there. just know that sometimes i wont respond to stuff just because talking with people i dont really know isnt something im up for all the time :P but ill try to respond if i can

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greyskyflowers · 7 months

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I wore some new earrings the other day, big ones. They were that cheap gold color with the post attached to a big circle with a bar hanging behind it.

It chimed everytime I moved my head or fixed my hair. Tbh I thought it would get annoying fast but it was such a gentle, soft thing.

Just a little ting every now and then.

I mention Zoro's earring in a lot of my stuff about him because that's just something I love about his character.

You associate things with people whether you realize it or not. Sounds, smells, food, memories, feelings. That's all there, even if its not on a level we're aware of.

I had a piece of cake the other day and I was immediately filled with homesickness. I could not figure out why. It was just a store bought vanilla cake. It wasn't even from a place that I shopped when I lived with my family, so it shouldn't have tasted familiar. Especially not enough for me to feel so homesick.

I tried to figure out why that cake was so familiar for days, until I finally figure it out.

The cake had been put in the refrigerator to keep and the cold had made the taste and texture almost identical to a vanilla cake my mom always made from scratch on my birthday. I probably wouldn't have felt homesick if the cake hadn't been cold. It just worked out in a way that trigger those memories I didn't even know I remembered.

I still associate a certain type of cologne with my middle school boyfriend.

I can still remember the feel of my freshman best friend's carpet when we'd lay on the floor.

I still remember the sound of my grandma calling and using a over the top fake british voice to sing happy birthday to me.

All those memories triggered by little things.

Isn't that so amazing? How can anything ever be gone if all it takes is a bite of cake to take me back home?

Or the smell of someone walking past me in the store takes me back to middle school and the butterfly feeling of holding hands for the first time.

Or taking my shoes off, sinking my toes into soft carpet, and seeing my old friend smile at me from a hazy memory.

Or a over the top fake voice on the tv that makes me miss my grandma fiercely.

That's all a little off track but I think relating ideas to our own experiences is how things become truly personal and heartfelt. I like to let people know my train of thought and hopefully evoke those feelings in you as well.

Back to the point.

I love the idea that the little chime of Zoro's earrings is probably buried in so many memories that the crew isn't even aware of.

How amazing that such a soft sound is associated with someone like Zoro?

How many times do they hear someone else's jewelry chime and look up expecting to see green hair and three swords?

How many times, during those two years apart, did they fill up with hope when they heard a little ting noise only to realize it wasn't the one they wanted?

How many times have they been scared or hopeless and that little chime whispered you're okay to them as Zoro appeared?

All of them having to get used to it when they join, how it constantly chimes with the beeeze or Zoro's movements.

The slow and unknowing shift into a comfort rather than a annoyance.

The same way I imagine Luffy's hat rustling, Nami's bracelets clicking, and so on, are all comforts.

I like to think they can sleep better when they hear the chime everyone in a awhile.

That sometimes, when they get lucky enough to sneakily snuggle up next to Zoro when he's napping and soak up all the heat he constantly gives off, that the little ting of the earrings right next to them is the best sound in the world.

A weariness that comes when they can't hear it and they should, like going into the country from a big city. The lack of noise is startling, because even when it's quiet in the city, it's full of noise. There's cars in the distance, the occasional horn or siren, the neighbor under you playing music, kids playing in the parking lot, the refrigerator humming and the cat purring.... All that becomes background noise you weren't even aware of. Zoro's earrings are always there under all the noise, sometimes it's louder when they don't chime than when they do.

The happiness of setting sail after each adventure and on to the next one, Luffy's laugh coming from his spot up front, and the hardly audible chime of Zoro's earrings that they know is accompanied by a lazy grin.

#just another zoro post 💁‍♀️#one piece #zoro #luffy #nami #mugiwara crew #straw hats #once again im here to promote poly and/or qp strawhats #everybody is a little in love with zoro and i will not be taking any further questions at this time #setting sail with greyskyflowers

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stargazer-sims · 29 days

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The Art of Redemption

(part 16)

previous // next // story index

—————

This morning, Nikolai is seeing Beth-Anne, Brett and Brett's guardian Jordy off to South Korea, to the World Junior Figure Skating Championship.

Despite his initial concerns that he wouldn't cope well with this situation, he's doing all right. Admittedly, he was a little anxious about Beth-Anne leaving, and he's still slightly envious of Brett's opportunity to compete at one of the most important international skating events of the season, but neither feeling has proved overwhelming enough to prevent him from staying calm and behaving like a normal adult.

A few days ago, Nikolai suggested it'd make sense if he brought Beth-Anne, Brett and Jordy to the airport instead of Jordy or Beth-Anne having to leave their vehicle in the airport parking lot for a week. Beth-Anne agreed it was a good idea, and apparently Jordy had seconded her opinion. Brett, on the other hand, hadn't seemed quite as impressed with the plan as his coach and tutor were, but Nikolai suspected that had more to do with Brett not wanting to show any weakness in front of Nikolai than with any lingering animosity between the two of them.

In fact, Brett had offered him such a sincere apology for his outburst at the rink a few weeks back, Nikolai is inclined to believe there had never really been any animosity at all. He'd had to remind himself that Brett is only fourteen, and even the simplest upsets can seem enormous and insurmountable at that age. They'd both been trying to process some big emotions, and the combination of Brett's anger and frustration and Nikolai's pain and anxiety had the inevitability of disaster written all over it.

Brett understood that too, in hindsight. He said he'd been so focused on himself and his own feelings, he hadn't even considered Nikolai's, and he said he genuinely felt bad for hurting him.

Nikolai could forgive that. After all, Brett is still learning and growing, and no one is perfect anyway. He'd praised Brett for recognizing what went wrong and for acknowledging it. That had earned him a tentative smile from the teenager, and a promise that he'd try to do better in the future.

"I"m sure you will," Nikolai had told him. "I'll do better too. We'll try to do like Beth-Anne says; respond, not react. Okay?"

"Okay," Brett had agreed, and the two of them shook hands.

The handshake had been unexpected from Nikolai's point of view, and he'd guessed it was something Brett had seen his parents do with their business associates. Still, it felt significant to Nikolai, like he and Brett were making a pact of mutual support and respect. They might never become close, but at least they'd agreed that they shouldn't be adversaries, and Nikolai is more than satisfied with that.

Today, he has a feeling their agreement is about to meet its first test.

They took Beth-Anne's truck to the airport, and Beth-Anne drove on the way there. It's the sort of truck that has a small backseat in the cab, so there was adequate room for all four of them, but Nikolai hadn't considered that he and Brett would be the ones sitting in the back. Jordy is easily 190 centimetres, if not taller, and they decided that he should sit up front with Beth-Anne so he could adjust the passenger seat and have some legroom.

Brett's acquiescence was clearly grudging, and he spent most of the ride alternating between staring out the window and shooting annoyed looks at Nikolai. Nikolai didn't take it personally. When he was Brett's age and travelling to a competition, he's sure he would've preferred to sit next to Grandpa or Allison on a long drive rather than beside some guy he only tolerated.

When they got to the airport, Nikolai helped Beth-Anne carry her stuff even though she insisted she could do it by herself. Brett and Jordy each had a backpack, and Brett had his skate carrier, but it seemed they were sharing a suitcase. The thing Jordy heaved out of the back of the truck was huge, but he didn't appear to have any difficulty with it. The last item was a red garment bag that Nikolai knew would have Brett's costumes in it. Jordy handed that to Brett and took charge of the gigantic suitcase himself, and then the four of them trooped into the airport together.

At such an early hour, there wasn't much of a lineup yet and check-in was relatively easy. Nikolai waited for them. He decided he'd go with them as far as he was permitted, which was all the way to security. That's where they are now.

Standing in the large, open space near the doors to the security area, Brett looks terrified. There's no trace of his typical bravado. He seems far younger than his fourteen years, and he's clinging to Jordy like his life depends on not letting go.

The image of Brett as a frightened child is made even more pronounced by Jordy's physical size. The top of Brett's head only comes up to his broad chest, and his arms are nearly twice as big around as Brett's.

Regardless of Jordy's imposing stature, however, Nikolai is certain there isn't a mean bone in the man's body. He gives the impression of being a natural-born caregiver, and Nikolai can't help admiring his patience with Brett's behaviour.

But, just because Jordy doesn't seem frustrated or irritated, this doesn't necessarily mean he's tolerant of Brett's nonsense. When Nikolai starts to talk to Brett, to wish him luck, the teenager turns away from him and hides his face against Jordy's chest. Jordy's immediate response is to admonish him.

The big man leans in to speak quietly to the boy, the beads at the ends of his braids clicking together gently as he bends his head forward. "Brett, that's not how we behave. Your friend is speaking to you."

"Don't wanna talk to him," Brett mumbles into the fabric of Jordy's coat.

"Don't be rude, please," Jordy says. "There are lots of things we don't want to do in life, but we need to do them because it's the right thing to do."

"I just wanna go," Brett says. "Hanging around here is stressing me out."

"We'll go through security in a minute, Brett," Beth-Anne interjects. "Just let Nikolai say what he wanted to tell you."

"All I wanted was to say good luck," Nikolai says. "You're going to do great, Brett. It's always stressful beforehand, but you've been looking awesome in practice and you know what you're doing, so just have fun with it and the rest will fall right into place."

Brett finally looks up at that. "You actually think I'm worried about the competition?"

Caught off-guard, Nikolai stammers, “You're... not?"

"It's not the competition. It's the flying," Jordy explains. "He doesn't like it, and we can't give him anything to help with the airsickness because... y'know. Drug tests."

"Sorry." Nikolai says. "Yeah, I do know, actually."

"Oh, that's right," Brett ventures, finally letting go of Jordy and standing up straight. "Beth-Anne said you don't like flying either."

"That'd be an understatement." Nikolai says. "I'd call it a win if I made it through an entire flight without throwing up."

Brett wrinkles his nose. "Eww... At least I've never done that."

"Consider yourself lucky. Throwing up and crying on an airplane full of strangers is definitely not a good look, and nobody wants to be next to the guy puking on the plane."

"Gross," Brett says, but then he flashes a quick, cheeky grin. "So, I guess that means I handle flying better than you do."

Nikolai returns the grin. "Gold medal to you for that. And I meant what I said. Have fun, and I hope you kick ass over there. It's your last season at Junior level, so make it one nobody forgets."

“Don’t worry. I will. When I debut in Senior division next season, everybody’s already gonna know my name,” Brett declares. “Too bad you’re not gonna be competing. It’d be fun to challenge you.”

“It’s lucky for you I’m not competing. I’d polish the ice so thoroughly with your scrawny butt, everybody'd call you Zamboni afterwards.”

“You would not.”

“You don’t think? When my leg gets better, maybe we should find out.”

Brett turns to fully face him. He meets his gaze and holds it, and Nikolai sees the unmistakable gleam in his eyes of a true competitor who can't resist any challenge, no matter how big or small. “Is that an invitation to a competition? ‘Cause if it is, you’re on."

"Absolutely," Nikolai says. "Beth-Anne can be the judge."

"There’ll be plenty of people around the rink who can be judges for us, but I think we probably won’t need much help figuring out the winner.”

"You're right." Nikolai can feel his smile spreading across his face. “No question, it'll be me."

"We'll see," Brett says.

This is the point at which Beth-Anne intervenes.

"Okay, boys. That's enough." She gives each of them a stern look. "Nikolai, you should know better, and Brett..." She trails off, shaking her head. "No, you know what? Never mind. We'll discuss this when we get back."

Undeterred, Brett says, "Yeah, we can discuss how I'm gonna make him look like yesterday's news."

"Brett, weren't you in a hurry to get through security?" Beth-Anne asks. She waves in the direction of the wide glass doors. "Why don't you and Jordy go ahead? I want to talk to Nikolai for a minute, and then I'll catch up with you, all right?"

Brett looks like he might protest, but seems to think better of it when Jordy lifts their carry-on bags from the floor and passes Brett's to him. "Come along, Brett. It'll be hard to win anything in Seoul if you're not on the plane when it leaves."

They head off toward the security area, and Brett walks calmly beside Jordy for several steps, but then he puts his bags down and runs ahead. Once he's built up some momentum he does a neat little one and a half rotation jump that brings him back down to face in Nikolai and Beth-Anne's direction again.

He waves at Nikolai and calls out, "See you later... Zamboni!"

Nikolai loses it. He doesn't even bother attempting to stifle his laughter as he watches an exasperated Jordy gather up Brett's skate carrier and backpack and hurry after him. Brett is jogging backwards, probably so he can see Nikolai's reaction. Nikolai sticks his tongue out at him.

"Cheeky little shit," Beth-Anne says, but she's laughing too.

"I can tell you love him," Nikolai says.

"What can I say?" she responds. "Apparently, I have a thing for troublemakers."

Nikolai feigns innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Like hell you don't," she scoffs. "You're the biggest goddamned troublemaker of all, Nikolai Pavlenko." But, a second later her arms are around him and she's hugging him tight. "Thank you."

He laughs as he reciprocates the embrace. "Way to send mixed messages, coach."

"Brett's probably going to be thinking about that ridiculous challenge all day," she says. "You know how reckless that was, challenging him like that? But, I'd much rather have him obsessing about how he's going to come up with a way to beat you than for him to dwell on how much he hates flying."

"So... what I'm hearing is that you think I can win the challenge?"

With her arms still around him, she swats him lightly on the back. "Fuck off! That's not what I said at all. And who says I'm even going to let either of you do it?"

"You mean... you can stop us?"

"Oh my God. I'm about to fucking disown you," she says, but no sooner than these words are out of her mouth, she's squeezing him once again. "For what it's worth though, I do think you'd win the challenge. I also think it's a fucking stupid idea, but it if motivates Brett and gives you something to look forward to, then I guess I'll agree to it."

"And you'll help me get ready for it?"

"How about I train the two of you together?" she says. "You can see up close how I work with someone at Brett's skill level, and I think he'll learn a lot from watching you. But," she adds, her tone suddenly no-nonsense. "All this is conditional, do you understand? If the doctor and the sports therapist fully clear you, we'll do it, but if they say no spins and no jumping..."

"I hope they don't say that."

"Do everything they tell you and keep your fingers crossed, and maybe they won't."

"You know what I want? I want to be able to do everything on the ice that I could do before. I wouldn't be able to keep up with a competitive training schedule, obviously, but... I want to jump again."

"I know you do," she says quietly.

"And I really want to do this challenge with Brett if I can, even if it is kind of stupid."

"I know that too." She's trembling a little, and he wonders what she's thinking. They stand together silently until she composes herself and lowers her arms at last. She takes a step back. "Okay, I'd better go. I'll give you a call when we get there."

"Okay," he says.

"You take care of yourself while I'm gone. Do your physio exercises, and don't forget about your appointment at the sports medicine clinic. Hang up your wet towels, and eat real meals, not just peanut butter toast all the time, and—"

'Beth-Anne, I'll be fine," he says. "If I need anything, I know who to call, and I promise I'll do all my exercises and go to my doctor's appointment and eat lots of protein. It'll be okay."

"Sorry. It's just... I'm not a hundred percent okay with leaving you. Plus, it's strange, being at the airport with you but leaving you behind."

"Yeah, but you don't really want to get on a plane with me and my delicate equilibrium."

"Delicate equilibrium," she echoes. "Well, that's one way of describing it. And maybe I don't love sitting next to you on a long flight, but it's being at the destination with you that I'm going to miss."

"Me too," he says. "But, you know what? Brett's not that much older than Eden, so maybe if everything goes the way we think it should, there'll be a day in the future when we'll be travelling to the same destinations again. You never know, right?"

"If I didn't already say so, it's good to see this side of you," she says. "I was beginning to wonder where my sunshine went."

"Just stuck behind a cloud for a while, that's all."

"Fucking clouds, always messing things up."

They always disappear eventually, though." He picks up her backpack and skate bag and hands them to her. "Here, you'd better take these. Not that I'm in a hurry to part ways, but you might miss your flight if we keep trying to have a long goodbye like this."

"Right," she says as she takes her things from him. "Christ, I'm fucking awful at goodbyes. I better haul ass before this gets any worse."

"I'll see you in a week. Good luck, and don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"That leaves it wide open, doesn’t it?”

"Go on," he says. "Brett and Jordy are waiting for you. You got this. Tell Brett I'll be watching on TV and cheering him on."

She offers him a grateful smile. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he says, as he watches her rush off.

The drive back to town feels long and lonely. Even with his favourite classic rock music blasting from the radio and a beautiful early morning sky overhead, he can't help feeling a little sad. He hadn't wanted to say anything to Beth-Anne since it was clear she was already worried, but being left behind feels strange to him too. Naturally, Beth-Anne has travelled without him before, with her other students and for her own personal reasons, but this was the first time they'd been at the airport together without both having a ticket for the same flight. He'd gotten through the actual experience at the airport, but now that he's on his own, he's not at all confident about it.

I'm just going to have to keep myself busy while she's gone, he tells himself. That's what Beth-Anne would tell me to do. Keep busy, so I don't dwell on stuff.

With Beth-Anne away, her group classes will be cancelled for the week, as well as the individual lessons for Eden and the two Novice level girls, Ruby and Katie. It's highly likely that Mariah will come to the rink to skate on her own, and perhaps thirteen-year-old Ruby might do the same, but Nikolai isn't allowed to work with either of them without Beth-Anne's supervision. He can watch, but that's about it, and now that he's started helping with the group classes and with Eden's and Katie's individual lessons, he's not sure he'll be content to simply watch any more.

So, if I'm not going to the rink, what am I supposed to do?

He makes a mental list of the possibilities. He'll visit his parents, of course, and he'll probably have dinner with his sister and brother-in-law at least once. There's his doctor's appointment, his daily walks on the treadmill, his and Ginger's planned bowling and pizza night, and he's positive that Grandpa wouldn't mind if he came over to hang out.

At first, this seems more than sufficient to occupy him, but he quickly realizes it's not going to fill an entire week. He pictures himself doing a lot of reading and playing a lot of video games to pass the time.

Then, he thinks about Anya. He's seen her at the arena a handful of times over the past few weeks, but they haven't spoken, and they only text each other sporadically now. This week might be a good time to meet with her and discuss their relationship. Maybe later in the week, because has to talk himself up and somehow convince himself he's brave enough to do it, and that might take a bit of time.

Ginger might be able to give me a pep talk.

He pictures Ginger's reaction if he asked her to do that, and he wants to laugh. She'd probably tell him to march in there like there's no way he could lose. "Approach it like a competition," she'd say.

Oddly, this sounds like good advice even if it's only in his imagination and not technically from his friend. Maybe he can do it, even if he's scared. He's been scared before competitions too, but he's come out on top more than he hasn't, so there must be some merit in that idea.

By the time he gets home, he feels better.

He thought it'd be weird to stay at Beth-Anne's house without her, but the moment he walks in the door it occurs to him that he thinks of it as home just as much as he does his own place. Inside, the air is warm and smells faintly of the French toast he'd made for breakfast. Their empty breakfast dishes are still on the table, and Beth-Anne's blue oversized cardigan is slung haphazardly over the back of a chair. Elvis the cat is asleep in his favourite spot atop the fridge.

Nikolai shrugs out of his coat and tugs off his sneakers. The kitchen is going to need some attention, but it can wait for an hour or two. First, he wants to write in his journal and then take a nap.

He wouldn't normally nap in the morning, but his knee hurts and he thinks the best cure would be an ibuprofen and some rest. He can sort out the mess in the kitchen after that, and then try to find something to do for the rest of the day.

In his room, he changes out of his jeans and sweater and into a comfortable pair of sweatpants and his favourite t-shirt. As he's folding his sweater and putting it back into one of his suitcases, something at the back of the closet catches his eye. It's the cardboard box he'd noticed when he first came to stay; the one with his costumes from the Four Continents in it. He'd meant to go through it and see what else was inside, but he'd been so caught up in going to the rink with Beth-Anne, learning to cook and do his own laundry, doing physio, and working on his new blog that it hadn't crossed his mind.

Well, no time like the present, I guess.

He really is curious, now that he thinks about it. Slipping quickly into the room's adjoining bathroom, he downs two ibuprofen tablets with lukewarm water, and then returns to haul the box out of the closet. He places it on the bed and climbs up after it.

With a pillow tucked under his sore knee and another behind his back, and the cardboard box beside him, he takes a deep breath before grasping the flaps of the box and pulling them open.

#writing #the art of redemption #theartofredemption #nikolai pavlenko #beth-anne jones #brett eriksson #jordan remington-grey #stargazersims

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goldenlol · 23 days

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also this is sword anon again and honestly your cookie run art is partially why i wanna get back into it after a long time but i remember some drama circulating around that darkmilk has a significant age gap n stuff and in extension so does yammilk (ik your pinned post doesnt include them I just added that since that was part of the discussion) so whats your take on their age thing cuz idk what type of shipper you are lol

HII AGAIN LFMAOO BUT OKFG RLLYYY?? YAYYY

I don’t talk about milkyam cause I just don’t like the ship, or most of its shippers. I don’t like a lot of choco ships tbh..but all I will say, is milk would protect choco from yam BUT THATS IT. THATS ALL.

for me, I hc young prince as 15 and milk around the same age, idk maybe 13? I cant see how people think young prince choco was an adult...?? Yes she went out to find a sword by herself but I think she was only allowed that because she is a good fighter and can survive on her own, it’s obvious cacao had trust that choco will return safely.

She just looks tall or mature for her age ig?? I think it’s because how she was raised, never allowed to be a child and trained to be better but yea no, I fr can’t see her as an adult here

edit: I forgot to add but she still kind of had that “oblivious” mindset I guess? Believing she can save her kingdom and could change her fathers mind even tho he’s so stubborn and that mentality of being “a hero just like his father”, I’m sure thats associated w younger people because “ur just a child you don’t know any better”

after she comes back she sees what her father rlly is and basically calls him a coward. It’s fr someone maturing and seeing someone for what they rlly are, not blinded by the child mentality anymore and only seeing someone as perfect when they’re not at all (not saying cacao is a coward mb minty, but bro wasn’t the best father 🙏😔 I love cacao) but also choco is manipulated easily because of her weak mentality.. my girl.

I know a lot of people are iffy or just hate chocomilk and that’s alr ig but god pls enough w tagging the ship and making threads telling people to hate it.

I know someone whose too afraid to draw it because of what people say and I’m like !! I got you bro I’ll draw it for us!!

Also I don’t think devsis would even allow such a ship to exist if it was wrong?? (it’s funny cause they make art of it n even make captions like that one where choco and lico go to an amusement park together, w “don’t tell milk” )

also I just hate how mischaracterized milk is w choco... my god y’all are weird as fuck w him. Milk wouldn’t harass choco or stalk him pls stop that, it’s uncomfortable..

he respects his space and choco’s life. When he met choco in that cutscene, people took choco being “uncomfortable” around milk, he wasn’t? He was just shocked or just “?? Rlly??” Kind of reaction because this man hasn’t been told anything nice after he became “bad” or whatever, so having someone tell him that he was the reason they became stronger and “want to be just like him” is obviously shocking to her, she wouldn’t believe that she made someone life better because she thought she only hurt people and deserved to be hated and treated in any way.

Anyway yea, they def both met as teens, didn’t see eachother til adults and it’s obvious milk is in love w choco idc (me too bro)

this is long as fuck sorry but GOD I NEEDED TO SAY SHIT!!

Take the cute art tho I love them sm (I think choco just has the mentality that no one could love him after what he’s done so he doesn’t understand why milk faints all flustered n shit but the idea of her being oblivious is cute too 😭 fuck it shes both!!)

also what type of shipper I am?? Wym

#dark choco cookie #milk cookie #darkmilk #chocomilk #God bless goodnight

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ghostradiodylan · 1 month

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What type of music would the counselors listen to?

I know some of my mutuals have answered this question before and I'm sure my headcanons will be influenced by theirs, AND I'm also significantly older than the counselors so they're probably listening to gen z stuff my late millennial ass doesn't even know about but here goes nothing!

Laura So much SIØBHAN! Just kidding. Laura feels like two completely different characters in the game so I have a hard time deciding what I think spunky but straight-laced, ‘this is my first cop,’ over-achieving pre-vet student Laura Kearney would listen to vs badass avenging murder spree Laura Kearney (but maybe she always had that inside her). Part of me wants to say, like, 80’s pop (Prince, Blondie, Tiffany, Michael Jackson, Pat Benetar, etc.) and part of me wants to put her in the hard rock/metal zone with Ryan. Maybe she’s a bit of both.

Max I believe it was Addie (@insertlovelyperson) who said Max would listen to country music where women murder their cheating or abusive husbands. That tracks to me. Maybe it's the use of Alma Cogan's version of 'Fly Me to the Moon' in the game, but I also tend to associate him with crooner type singers of the 40's and 50's (Frank Sinatra, Perry Como, Dean Martin, etc), which is what I said he'd choose for karaoke. And because of this fanart I have no choice but to HC him as a major Ariana Grande fan, he's probably the one who chose the music for the drive to camp. So. Max has range.

Abi is the K-Pop/J-Pop stan to me but I know so little about that music beyond the crossover bands like BTS that I can't speak to it a whole lot. I think she'd also like some emo, pop-punk and moodier alt/pop. Avril Lavigne, Paramore, Melanie Martinez, Florence and the Machine, Metric, Lorde, Halsey, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Billie Eilish, Phoebe Bridgers/boygenius, etc. I feel like she's really into female fronted bands for some reason.

Jacob likes pretty much whatever is on the radio. He's a top 40 guy and has no shame about his enjoyment of Ed Sheeran and Justin Beiber, or about ugly crying to Taylor Swift and Coldplay. He rarely listens closely to the actual lyrics (and often gets them humorously wrong), he just goes on vibes. He discovers half the music he listens to via TikTok (not that there's anything wrong with that).

Emma is a theater kid through and through and loves broadway musicals. She goes through phases with each popular one. She's had a Waitress phase, a Mamma Mia phase, a Wicked phase, and a Hamilton phase, of course, and now she's into Mean Girls, Heathers, and Hadestown. Beyond that, I think she'd be a dedicated Swiftie, big Adele fan, and a lover of Britney Spears's entire body of work from the 90's through today.

Nick probably listens to stoner bro music. Like jam bands and psychedelic rock and stuff. He probably likes Dave Matthews Band and the Grateful Dead/Dark Star Orchestra, Sublime, Widespread Panic, Tame Impala, and O.A.R. Googling jam bands to remind myself which ones exist led me to the knowledge that there's an Australian psychedelic rock band called King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard and that name is so bonkers that I've decided without listening to more than a few bars that it has to be Nick's favorite band.

Ryan is a little bit emo and a little bit goth and a little bit old school punk. He needs music that's loud and moody to help sort out his feelings about life and drown out all the excess noise inside his head. He's into metal, the harder side of emo/screamo, goth rock, hard rock, punk, and post-punk. He definitely listens to Nightwish, GOJIRA, Mastodon, Lacuna Coil, Linkin Park, Rage Against the Machine, Bauhaus, Joy Division, Nine Inch Nails, Deftones, Thursday, Alkaline Trio, My Chemical Romance, AFI, Bad Religion, Black Flag, Minor Threat, The Misfits, Ramones, etc. He doesn't hate more accessible pop and rock music, but the closest he gets to choosing it for himself is probably something like The Cure or The Smashing Pumpkins or Depeche Mode, maybe some of the creepier Weeknd songs and Muse tracks too heavy to go on the Twilight soundtracks. He and Abi listen to Babymetal together.

Kaitlyn classic rock and 90's alternative. This girl likes the Stones more than the Beatles, though she'll listen to both. Led Zeppelin, Joan Jett, Pink Floyd, The Doors, Black Sabbath, the occasional hair band. She especially loves the 90's girl rockers like Alanis Morisette, Garbage, Hole, Veruca Salt, and No Doubt (Kaitlyn can't believe Gwen Stefani is married to pop-country dork Blake Shelton who sings that song about being your honey bee, because Gwen used to be so cool [I'm definitely not projecting]). I feel like she'd also love Bikini Kill and Sleater Kinney, Le Tigre, and The Donnas.

Dylan is the Music Guy ™ (and my personal bias/url namesake), so I've admittedly thought about his musical tastes more than most of the others'. The official Quarry website mentions his 'deep musical knowledge' and I imagine he has pretty broad views on what constitutes good music. He's got kind of a vintage vibe to him, maybe it's the reproduction band shirt from 1988, or the fact that he's into analog technology, or both, but I've noticed he's often depicted playing Queen or Bowie or something of that era in fics, which I think is realistic. This kid goes to the used record store and just buys whatever looks cool.

Fun Fact: According to the datamine, the chapters originally had literary or musical quotes at the beginning of each, and Chapter 5: White Noise (the radio hut chapter) was originally headed by the opening lyrics from Queen's 'Radio Ga Ga':

He's also the only character we see play music in canon, so we know he likes... songs from random compilation albums with inexpensive royalties. XD Just kidding, but these are the diegetic (in-universe) songs we get to hear from Dylan's playlist at the bonfire party:

All pop music of varying subtypes, so we know he appreciates a well-crafted pop song. I honestly am a fan of all of these. I think Dylan genuinely listens to everything but he seems like the type to especially like alt and indie pop, classic rock, garage rock, a bit of the more melodic side of punk, emo, and pop-punk, new wave, synth pop, electronic, and a little bit of hip hop that’s sufficiently nerdy white boy friendly (probably Beastie Boys, Run the Jewels, Post Malone, emo rap like Blackbear, etc). I also tend to gravitate towards early-mid aughts indie for him, like MGMT, Arctic Monkeys, The Strokes, OK Go, LCD Soundsystem, etc. Just seems to match his vibe. I think he'd really like BØRNS, Hozier, COIN, Mitski, and K.Flay and probably have a fair amount of overlap with Ryan's more melodic picks (MCR, Muse, The Cure, etc). Dylan probably hates Morrissey but begrudgingly loves The Smiths and definitely cranks up The Killers in his car. He’s also listening to bands right now that you’ve never heard of but will be huge in a couple years. He can probably tell you the difference between subgenres like chillwave, dream pop, and shoegaze but don’t ask me about it because I have no fucking clue.

Since we’re on the subject, here’s my absurdly long and ever-growing Rylan/Radioheads playlist because I have a problem.

And my Sweet Summer Jams playlist, that’s just a bunch of random songs I think would be clean enough to play at a summer camp as long as the kids/your boss don’t ask too many questions.

#the quarry #I just really love music okay #one of the many reasons I relate so much to Dylan #I don't actually listen to every artist mentioned but... a lot of them yes #I spent way too long on this #hacketteer headcanons #Hackett’s quarry radio hut #dylan lenivy #ryan erzahler #kaitlyn ka #abigail blyg #jacob custos #emma mountebank #laura kearney #max brinly #nick furcillo #ask bunny #hello beautiful anon #bunny blathers

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