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penny00dreadful · 7 months

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Before He Cheats

AO3

“Munson Home for the Recently Deceased, you stab ‘em we slab ‘em. How may I direct your call?”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds before a light chuckle crackled through the speaker.

“Is that really how you answer the phone?”

Eddie smiled to himself. “Got you to laugh didn’t it?”

“Suppose.”

“Plus, no one calls the landline anymore unless they’re trying to sell something. You trying to sell me something?”

“No. No, I uh… I’m looking for an Eddie Munson?”

“Only an Eddie Munson? Only one? What a terrible fate. Well you’re in luck, my good sir. This is he. What can I do you for?”

The voice on the end of the line gave a light laugh once again but went silent almost immediately after.

Eddie stared at the wall in his apartment, waiting for something to happen. In the quiet he could hear the guy letting out little nervous breaths before one big inhale.

“I um. I’m sorry to have to tell you like this, I’d prefer to do it face to face but I don’t know where you live and you probably wouldn’t even want me at your house afterwards and I did find you on social media but it’s not something I wanted to do in DM’s, you deserve better than that-”

“Okay, hold on, slow down.” Eddie tried to ignore the panic starting to kick around in his heart. “Is someone dead? Is someone injured?”

“No! No, Jesus, I’m sorry. I told Robin that I’d be terrible at this but I couldn’t just let it go on without saying anything-”

“You haven’t really said anything. You’re just rambling.”

“Right. Sorry. Again, blame Robin. I’m around her too much. But… okay. Do you know Rick Lipton?”

Eddie felt the panic leave him, replaced only by irritation as he sighed through his nose. “What did he do now?”

“He… um. I’m sorry to ask this but are you his partner? Like, romantic partner?”

Eddie scowled. “And if I am?”

There was movement against the line, almost as if the other guy was nodding.

“Shit.” He muttered before picking back up in volume again. “Listen, I didn’t know. He told me he was single and I only found out because Robin lives in the same building as you and she saw him with you and asked the neighbours and they said you’d been a thing for like two years and you have to believe me if I’d known I wouldn’t have touched him, I don’t fuck around with cheaters-”

“How long?”

Eddie had expected to feel betrayal or sadness, devastation or heartbreak and they were there.

They were just lost under a tidal wave of anger and indignation. He was even surprised at himself that he didn’t feel more caught off guard.

Rick had never cheated before (that Eddie was aware of) but he had always had a wandering eye and a few off-colour jokes about 'going to find someone more his speed’.

They’d never really felt all that funny.

Maybe it was because their relationship had felt dead for the last few months.

They barely talked, they just existed around each other. The sex had all but dried up as well and whenever they did have it, it was completely impersonal. Get in, get out, move back to separate parts of the apartment if either of them even bothered to stay over.

More often than not one of them would make a quick exit back to their home.

Eddie had been thinking a breakup was on the horizon for a while.

But that was no excuse to cheat.

At least have the fucking decency to end the relationship first before going out and chasing tail.

“Um, like four or five weeks." The guy on the phone muttered, clearly ashamed. "I’m so sorry Eddie, I swear to god if I knew I would never… I have- I have proof if you need it.”

“If it’s a sex tape I don’t think I want to see it.” Eddie was trying really hard to maintain his calm and not snap through the phone.

If what the guy was saying was true, then he was an innocent party in this.

Didn’t make it hurt any fucking less though.

Didn’t make him any less pissed.

“If- no it’s not a sex tape.” The voice sounded scandalised. “Fucking hell, do people actually do that?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause, as though the guy was waiting for Eddie to continue but Eddie just let it hang in the air. He wasn’t ashamed.

But he was definitely going to have to purge those files now.

“Okay well… It's just a photo. I posted it to my insta a week ago but he was really weird about it being up, which in hindsight makes a lot of sense, so I took it down.” He said, quiet and sad. “I can send it to you if you want.”

Eddie pursed his lips.

“Please hold.”

He unceremoniously dropped the phone with a clatter, leaving it dangling from the cord, bouncing against the wall and probably blowing the guy’s ear out.

Maybe in the morning Eddie would feel a little bad about that, but for now it just felt very satisfying.

He rifled around in his bedsheets for his phone before making his way back to the landline.

“Still there?”

“Yes. Ow, by the way.”

Eddie just shrugged, well aware the guy couldn’t see him but whatever. He wasn’t in the mood.

“Send it on.”

Only a moment later his phone pinged with a notification and Eddie opened the photo.

Well.

Shit.

There was Rick, in amongst a crowd at some nightclub, plastered to the side of some pretty boy who looked like he had a regular workout routine.

Ugh.

Eddie couldn’t handle gym bunnies, the amount they could bench or whatever was all they ever talked about. But this must be the guy on the other end of the phone.

@King.Steve.Of.House.Hair

Rick had King Steve’s earlobe in between his teeth and from the angle of the selfie Eddie could see his hands were wandering.

It looked like some kind of Halloween night, if the teeny tiny little sailor outfit was anything to go by.

God damn.

But even so, Eddie still wanted to be sure that what he was seeing was… well. What he was seeing.

“Steve, is it?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry, I didn’t realise I hadn’t given you my name yet.” Steve let out a nervous laugh, like he was expecting Eddie to jump through the phone and strangle him.

Eddie was fit to strangle someone but Steve wasn’t in his crosshairs.

“Don’t worry about it. Tell me, what does Rick have tattooed on his ass?”

“Uh…” Steve paused. “He doesn’t have a tattoo on his ass? Not that I’ve seen anyway. But I can tell you he does have his taint pierced. For some fucking reason.”

Eddie gave a quiet laugh at that, despite the monumentally fucked up situation and the final cracking piece of his heart breaking away. Rick had that piercing by the time Eddie had met him. He insisted he’d gotten it because it was sexy. Eddie was pretty sure he’d just lost a bet.

Eddie was no stranger to intimate piercings himself. He had his frenum done a while back.

That one he’d definitely done because it felt sexy.

He looked back down at his phone, idly flipping through Steve’s profile and all of his other photos.

He probably shouldn’t be thinking about how hot Steve was, how it was juxtaposed with a soft cuteness that almost felt like it didn’t belong to someone with such broad shoulders and defined arms.

He hated himself for thinking about Steve’s attractiveness.

It felt wrong.

Even though he was pretty much single now.

Even if Rick didn’t know it yet.

But fuck him.

He’d find out.

One way or the other.

And Eddie was nothing if not a drama queen.

But he wouldn’t do anything tonight.

No tonight he would just… hurt.

And smoke.

A lot.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice came through to him. “You okay?”

Eddie swallowed, finding it a little more difficult than he expected it to be and realised he’d just been staring down at his phone in silence.

The screen had gone black.

“Yeah.” He answered, his voice thick. “I’m fine.”

Steve hummed. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Eddie laughed. It was wet and sniffly and vulnerable and horrible. “What are you gonna do from over the phone far away… wherever you are?”

“I dunno. I could just… talk to you I guess? Help you plot Rick's murder?”

Eddie laughed again, a little brighter this time. "Yeah, that could be good. But if I'm plotting murder I want to be a little more comfortable." He unlocked his phone and hit the follow button on Steve’s account. “This conversation requires lounging, not standing by the landline.”

“Oh-”

“How do you feel about a video call?”

A notification popped up on his phone, letting him know Steve had followed him back.

“A video call is fine.”

“Great.” Eddie paused. He wasn’t even sure how to end this call with the guy his boyfriend of two years had been cheating on him with and who he’d just asked if he wanted to video call so Eddie could smoke his feelings away.

He just didn’t want to feel alone right now.

He could have called Chrissy or one of the boys to come hang out with him but that would require explaining everything over again and he really didn’t want to do that right now.

Before he could think much more on it Eddie said a quick “Okay bye,” and hung up.

Steve knew the story and Steve had been wronged too and maybe they could just be mad and sad together.

He unlocked his phone again as he walked back into his bedroom and hit the video call button, not even bothering to turn his light on, leaving himself and his room shrouded in darkness. He propped his phone up on his desk, angled towards the window where he sat on the sil and started to roll, using the streetlights streaming in the window to see.

Steve picked up only a moment later and Eddie got his first good look at the guy live in action and not through a photo online.

He was sitting at what looked like a kitchen table fully lit by the overhead lights, a pair of wire framed glasses perched on his nose and his hair messy and dishevelled, like he’d been stressfully running his hands through it, which he probably had been.

Eddie didn’t know how stressed he would be if he had to make a call to someone to tell them their long term partner had been cheating.

He was leaning forward, elbows on the table in a cosy yellow sweater with a slight worry between his eyebrows.

He looked so soft.

Nothing at all like the nautical sea queen look he’d been giving in those photos. He looked comfortable and gentle and a little worried.

“Eddie?”

“Mm-hm?” He hummed, bringing the joint to his mouth and lighting it up before pushing open the window a little more and exhaling out into the dark rainfall outside.

“You okay?”

He shrugged. “I will be.”

“I’m not asking about whether you will be, I‘m asking about now.”

Eddie looked over and watched Steve as Steve watched him through the screen.

“Alright, then no. I’m not okay.” He took another drag. “I’m fucking pissed. I’m sad, I’m upset, I’m hurt, I’m angry, I’m disappointed and I don’t know if all of that is directed more at him for doing this to me or me for not expecting it.”

“How were you supposed to expect it?” Steve shook his head in disbelief. “No one should have to expect to be cheated on.”

“Dunno.” Eddie shrugged, looking back out the window. “Relationship was dying anyway.”

“Okay, and? That doesn’t make cheating okay.”

“Suppose not.”

“I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. For my part in it.”

Eddie glanced back over, taking in the downward tilt of Steve’s mouth and his big sad eyes.

“S’not your fault. You were wronged too.”

“I guess, but…” Steve bit his lip and looked up from the screen, casting his eyes around his kitchen like something was going to pop out and answer whatever question was running through his head.

Eddie waited. The guy had been very gracious so far and he seemed to genuinely feel bad for all the mess he’d been wrapped up in.

“I…” Steve continued. “I know how this thing usually goes. You find out you’ve been cheated on and you still love your partner so you tend to focus all your anger towards the person they cheated with rather than the person who actually wronged you.” He looked down, fiddling with some kind of flash card on the table in front of him.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.” Eddie stubbed his joint out, happy enough with his current buzz. He was sufficiently mellowed, he hadn’t cried yet though that would probably come once he was in bed, but his anger had simmered down to a level where he didn’t feel like putting his fist through a wall but still angry enough to plot.

“I am, I guess.”

Eddie nodded. “This happened to you before?”

That was probably rude. His filter malfunctioned at the best of times but when he smoked it was all but gone.

“Yeah.” Steve stared down at the cards in his hands. “My mom had to put up with my dad’s infidelity a lot. And my ex-girlfriend cheated on me a while back.” Steve paused before taking a deep breath. “Rick was actually my first attempt to get back into the dating world so…”

“So we can both be sad and angry together.”

“Yeah.” Steve smiled and Eddie stood up, plucking his phone from his desk and settling it on his bedside table, switching his lamp on and throwing himself face down on his bed, probably barely visible to Steve.

“We can be sad and angry together.”

Eddie glanced up. Now that he was closer to his phone, he could better see exactly what Steve was fiddling with, he could read some of the text on the card.

“Stevie.” Eddie sat up, moving closer to the phone and unable to stop the smirk running over his face. Steve’s eyes snapped up towards him. “Did you write out flash cards for when you called me?”

Steve’s eyes widened before he unceremoniously swept all the cards off the table in front of him, his cheeks turning a terrific shade of red and he leaned his face on his hand, trying to act as nonchalant as possible.

“No.”

It was adorable. Incredibly dorky and adorable.

Eddie laughed, full on braying belly laughs, collapsing backwards onto his bed. When he peeked back up to look at his phone through his giggles, Steve’s face was somehow even redder.

“Oh my god.” Eddie breathed. “That’s darling.”

“Shut up.”

“No, no. It’s really very sweet.”

“Ugh. Whatever.” Steve rolled his eyes but was still smiling, still had a blush lighting up his cheeks.

Eddie settled himself back against his headboard. “Actually, listen, let me ask you something.”

“Okay?”

“Does Rick know? Does he know that you know? Or that you told me?”

“No.” Steve answered, finally relaxing his fake nonchalance into real relaxation, folding his hands on the table and propping his chin up on them. “I figured if anyone had the right to rip his balls off it would be you.”

Eddie nodded.

That he could understand.

“I get that, but there’ll be no ball ripping from where I stand. No, I want to hit him where it hurts.”

“Woulda hurt me plenty.”

“Oh, I’m sure. But the only thing Rick loves more than his own balls is his car.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, he’s like, obsessed with that thing. It’s weird. It’s not even that nice of a car.”

“I’d love to say he has bad taste but considering he picked the both of us, I’m pretty sure his tastes are actually immaculate.”

“Just his decisions are bad.”

“Exactly.”

“Well.” Steve sighed. “I’d love to help any way I can. I hate that I was involved in this, in what he did to you.”

“To us, Stevie. To us.”

“Right, so what’s the plan then?”

“When are you due to see him next?”

Eddie pulled his van into the parking lot of the bar. It was halfway across town and a place that he never frequented if he could help it. Rick liked it though, always had. Eddie just liked other places around town more.

But it could be cute, he supposed. A small little country and sports type place that had a rainbow flag behind the bar and a small number of regulars who, according to Steve, wouldn’t do anything unless you got between them and their drink.

He knew that Steve was inside with Rick, playing up the flirty angle and acting tipsier than he actually was to put him at ease.

Steve had mentioned one of his signature moves involved pool, bending over the table and wiggling a little bit to keep the attention on him. Pulling out a little pout whenever he missed a shot or asking for help to line up his cue.

Eddie would be more upset by the fact that he was missing the sight of it if he didn't know he'd have the opportunity to see it himself at some point in the future.

They had talked for so long that first night, long enough that the sun was starting to come up by the time they'd both dragged themselves away from their phones to sleep.

They’d talked about their families, their friends, what they were doing in life right now as opposed to what they had hoped they would be doing when they were teenagers. They talked about their school selves and their dating lives and as the conversation wore on Eddie found himself thinking again and again about how long it had been since it had felt so easy to talk to someone like that.

It had been a very long time since Rick had put any effort into getting to know him as he grew through their two years together, like he expected Eddie to stay the same person as he was at the start of the relationship.

After that first night where they’d figured out their master plan, he and Steve had just… kept talking. Throughout the rest of the week up until tonight, they were in almost constant contact, only really taking a break to sleep and work.

Eddie felt connected to Steve and in some roundabout way he was thankful to Rick for bringing him into his life.

He’d even met Robin in passing one day, living two floors below him, holding the door open for him as he tried to wrestle with grocery bags.

She was so weird. He kind of loved her the second she opened her mouth. Honest, but with the sharpest tongue he’d ever met on a person.

She had knocked on his apartment door later that evening to tell him Steve was calling over to visit and asking if he wanted to come around to meet him.

Steve had apparently delegated the asking to her because he was too nervous to do it himself.

Again, adorable.

Steve was somehow even sweeter and even saltier in person than he was over the phone and Eddie tried hard, he tried really hard not to look too much or let his fucking horomones run away with him but Jesus. H. Christ it was difficult.

The sweetness of his soft sweaters and polos, his gentle smiles and understanding words matched with his salty mean girl attitude that would slip out every so often and the bitchiest of eye rolls that made Eddie’s heart jump.

Eddie was also trying to feel bad about what was happening but honestly, he was losing reasons to care that much.

He hadn’t texted or called Rick once in the last week and Rick himself had never reached out which all at once made Eddie realise he was the primary communicator in the relationship and it hadn’t been reciprocated in a long, long time.

Adding onto that was the knowledge that Rick was still fucking cheating on him and was in regular contact with Steve left Eddie only half heartedly feeling bad.

He and Steve would go over the screenshots of the conversation together every night and every night Eddie found it harder and harder to hang up the phone.

He was pretty sure Steve was feeling the same way.

They kept just catching each other staring. Or smiling or, pulling back from touching too much and he was almost sure that as soon as Rick was out of the picture for the both of them, something was going to blossom.

Even now, with Steve inside, flirting up a storm with Eddie’s ex-boyfriend who didn’t know he was an ex yet, they would be ending the night together.

Robin was waiting back at her apartment with an alibi ready if Eddie needed it though he suspected he wouldn’t.

Neither he nor Rick had a great track record with the police and it would be more trouble than it was worth to get them involved.

Speaking of, Eddie spotted Rick’s car, some souped up four wheel drive monstrosity of small dick syndrome sitting in the shadows and away from the cameras of the bar where Steve had convinced him to park with a suggestion of something happening in those shadows later on.

He hopped out of his van and threw open the back doors, grabbing his bag of goodies before sidling around Rick’s car to wait.

When the chords of some Shania Twain number started to leak through the walls, the signal he’d been waiting for, the sound loud enough to drown out what Eddie would be doing, he dropped his bag to the floor.

Curling his keys into his fingers and with almost a skip in his step Eddie began to carve a stripe through the immaculate and expensive paint work. Working his way around to the drivers side, he lifted the key up before bringing it back down.

With a little bit of sickening glee, he hacked the word CHEATER into the side of the car, the side that would be immediately visible from the bar door and the side Rick would have to see every time he wanted to get in and get out of the driver's seat.

At least until he paid a bomb to get it fixed.

Eddie had connections in this town. Working as a mechanic here for years would do wonderful things to extend this pain.

Rick knew fuck all about cars.

Tucking his keys back into his pocket, he sidled back around to his duffel bag, unzipping it and pulling out his Stanley blade.

Unsheathing it, he gripped it tight in his hand and punched it down into the nearest tyre, listening with satisfaction as the thing slowly deflated before moving onto the other three.

A second Shania song had started up.

He could hear Steve crooning out from inside, getting louder and Eddie knew he was running out of time.

He pulled Steve’s baseball bat from the duffle and gave it a little twirl, the same one he’d seen Steve do when he’d first handed it off and he had tried so hard not to be attracted to it.

He’d failed miserably.

Maybe Eddie could deal with a gym bunny if that gym bunny was Steve.

With an almighty swing, he brought the bat down, shattering one of the headlights with an almighty crash that wasn’t quite drowned out by the karaoke inside.

Rearing back Eddie swung again, smashing the other headlight and while the music didn’t cut off, he could clearly hear Steve inside calling out for Rick to “Wait!”

Okay, only a few seconds left.

Pulling the bat back and letting the anger and betrayal and indignation flow through him, he brought the bat down hard into the windshield where it embedded itself, the spider cracks of the tempered glass making the thing practically opaque.

The bat was fucking stuck.

Eddie knew that if he was able to pull hard enough he would be able to release the whole windshield from the car but he didn’t even have the strength in him to budge the bat.

“What the fuck?!”

Eddie slowly released his hands from the bat and turned, looking at Rick standing in the doorway of the bar, his mouth hanging wide open in shock, unable to believe what he was seeing. Steve was standing just behind him, with one hand over Rick’s chest.

To anyone else it would look like a comforting gesture, maybe. A show of support.

But Eddie could tell the hand was there to hold Rick back if he decided to lunge.

Both Steve and Rick dragged their gaze over the flat tyres, the word carved into the side, the bat stuck in the windshield.

“Hey sweetheart.” Eddie called across the distance, feeling comfortable enough to turn his back to pick up his bag, trusting Steve to at least shout if Rick was about to tackle him.

“Eddie,” Rick breathed, still open-mouthed somehow. “What in the god damned hell has gotten into you?!”

“I wasn’t talking to you.” He slung the bag over his shoulder and held his hand out.

Steve patted Rick twice on the chest and stepped out from behind him.

Rick watched him walk away looking even more bewildered than before.

With one hand Steve took Eddie’s and with the other he grabbed the bat, wiggling it a few times before pulling it free.

They broke apart as they reached Eddie’s van, Steve climbing into the passenger seat and Eddie throwing his bag in the back before starting up the van from his position in the driver's seat.

He leaned over Steve to shout out of the window, “Have a nice life, asshole!”

As the van tore out of the lot, Steve stretched both hands out of the window, two middle fingers extended until Rick, still frozen on the spot, was out of sight.

When he pulled himself back inside, Eddie saw him glance his way, a huge grin on his face.

Eddie had a smile to match, whooping into the night as they sped down the road.

AO3

@geekymagicalpotato

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the STWG for their motivation.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie x steve #penny00dreadful #before he cheats fic #anniversary #1 year posting anniversary challenge #pennys anniversary event #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #fanfic #tw cheating

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suzukiblu · 6 months

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Day nine of fic NaNoWriMo; obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon.

Tim's nucleus of an idea requires some careful math, some even more careful bank fraud, and a lot of planning. Less planning than the supervillain timeline, at least, but still a lot of planning. He has to time it very carefully to make Kon won't have forgotten about the museum heist and the idiot civilian he saved from it, but so there won't be anything suspicious about said idiot civilian having managed to track him down. Admittedly, Kon isn't very hard to track down, but normal high schoolers aren't very good at tracking people down.

Well, not unless they're stalking a celebrity they have a crush on or doxxing a YouTuber who's mildly annoyed them or something.

. . . okay, Tim's probably being too paranoid here. If Kon asks how he found him, all he has to say is he follows him on Twitter or something.

He does actually follow Kon with one of his undercover IDs, because Caroline Hill needed a few social media accounts to round out her existence and giving her ones that she just focused on following celebrities with saved him from having to rig up a bunch of bots and other accounts to be her "friends". It's way easier to just keep up lurker accounts for her and occasionally like a few interesting photos and generally inoffensive comments about current events.

He didn't even deliberately go find Kon's account; Twitter recommended it to him after he followed the Titans and he decided if Bruce asked he could just sell it as a way to keep tabs on a new ally and teammate in a way they wouldn't notice. Caroline Hill also follows Arrowette's official account, even though Tim knows Cissie's mom is the one who actually runs it, plus the Titans' and a couple of other more public-facing heroes'.

So as long as Bruce doesn't notice just how many thirst-trap selfies Kon has posted in wet swimsuits or post-fight ripped-up costumes or with that stupid flirty smirk on, Tim might actually be able to get away with that excuse.

Heteronormativity might protect him, if nothing else.

Maybe.

Look, there's a reason it's Caroline and not Alvin following Kon's account.

Tim works on his idea and his plan and the bank fraud that'll let him crack into his trust fund early without his dad noticing, because while his allowance is frankly appalling and he has a lot more in savings than anyone under the age of twenty probably should, it's not actually enough to fund an entire new life for his stupid sexy teammate, and unfortunately Robin-duties kind of put a crimp in the idea of getting an after-school job, so bank fraud it is.

Just a little touch of supervillain practice, he figures.

Tim works out some reasonable timing and a few different possible approaches to take with Kon, and he tries to stay logical and patient about the whole process even though literally every day this takes is another day that Kon is stuck in a shitty lab that tried to mind-control him and is still actively taking advantage of him, under new management or not. Even Superman doesn't trust Cadmus–understandably–but apparently having an inside man in with them is more important to him than protecting Kon from them? Somehow?

Which is much, much less understandable, to Tim. It's not like Kon volunteered for that. Superman only came to him about it after he took the job for lack of other options. And also he asked him to do it while offering him a real name tied to his family, and while Kon doesn't even know his real name exists.

So yeah, Tim really needs to get a personal kryptonite supply going. Just so much of a personal kryptonite supply. A full rainbow of one, just in case. Like, carefully lead-sealed and code-labeled so Kon will know to avoid it just in case he stumbles across it, but still.

Fuck, Superman better be being mind-controlled right now or something. Or impersonated. Or just somehow compromised.

If he's not, there is not enough Kryptonite in the world for Tim's needs.

So Tim works out his plan, and then he goes back to Metropolis. Specifically, he goes back to Metropolis after Kon updates his Twitter with a selfie that has the Metropolis skyline in the background and a caption about a local café he's about to hit up, which hopefully will give Tim an hour or so to get there before Kon swans off to some random beach or goes back underground with Cadmus or whatever, and also hopefully won't be swarmed with fans or supervillains when he does.

Actually walking up to Cadmus's front door and asking Superboy to come out and play is not in any way in the plan, though if it takes long enough to "find" Kon somewhere plausibly deniably findable for a high school student to manage, Tim's open to the possibility. Fuck knows he's done stupider and weirder and still made it work.

Tim gets to Metropolis in forty-five minutes because of judicious abuse of the Batplane and Bruce being busy on the Watchtower for the day. He'll be telling him he went to see Superboy, since obviously Bruce isn't going to miss the missing jet fuel and Alfred has no reason to keep his mouth shut about it either, but be lying about why he went to see him. As far as Bruce knows, this is business.

Technically, Tim could spin this as business if he had to.

He gets to the café and there aren't any supervillains but there is a small handful of preteen girls on the sidewalk outside giggling over their collection of newly-gained autographs, which means the local supervillains are either behind the times and not properly tuned into social media or just don't have beef with specifically Superboy. Which . . . quite possibly they don't, Tim is realizing. The locals would know how little investment Superman has in Kon, after all, and Kon spends more time either underground with Cadmus or running around with Young Justice than he does actually in the city proper, so it's not like he's had time to collect many personal grudges. Those are probably all back in Hawaii. In Metropolis, he's mostly just been reported as covering petty crimes that'd slipped through the cracks while Superman was busy handling Brainiac or Parasite or having another cold war with Lex Luthor.

It's Kon, of course, so eventually he'll piss off Toyman or accidentally trip over Mxyzptlk or something, but right now, Metropolis mostly just remembers him as that slightly too eager kid who stopped a bomb from killing them all that one time and helped Superman stop Engine City from happening to them. Kind of like Superman has a very enthusiastic but well-intentioned super-powered fanboy kicking around downtown, as opposed to an actual sidekick or any kind of partner that he regularly works with and supports. Steel gets a lot more Metropolis street cred and appreciation, for obvious reasons, but Kon just hasn't been around the city that often since his initial debut. He's a little bit like a tertiary mascot character.

Tim thinks Metropolis is full of idiots, but their standards for vigilantism were set by a man who can bench-press a planet, so he supposes it makes sense that they see a teen idol telekinetic as a charming little side character and not really anyone too impressive in his own right.

No wonder Kon ran off to Hawaii the first chance he got after Superman came back to life, though.

Though in retrospect, why did Superman let him?

Tim walks into the café in civilian clothes and immediately spots Kon at a table in the back and gets a very sharply assessing eye from the woman behind the counter. He doesn't patronize her by pretending to be here to order anything and just heads straight for Kon.

She watches him, and so do a couple of assorted patrons that might be regulars. Tim wonders if Kon's a regular himself, or if Metropolis is just more protective of its Supers than he'd previously realized. Kon isn't here often enough for him to have really looked too closely into it.

Kon doesn't look up from his phone or his mostly-empty plate and mug; it looks like he's playing a cell phone game or something similar. Tim debates the best way to introduce himself, since he doubts Kon will immediately recognize him, but before he can–

"This better be worth ditching out on the refill I just ordered," Kon says distractedly without even glancing up.

"Sorry?" Tim says, a little bemused, and then Kon does look up and startles a little, looking surprised.

"Shit, sorry, thought you were somebody else," he says. "Blame the coat."

"You weren't looking at my coat," Tim says, looking down at it himself in vague mystification anyway. It's just a coat. It's long and dark and on the heavy side, but that's literally the only notable things about it.

"I don't think you understand how TTK works," Kon says, lowering his phone with a wry smirk. "I don't have to look at you to see you, man."

. . . well, that's definitely an application of tactile telekinesis that Tim wasn't previously aware of.

He's just going to try not to think too hard about any implications of Kon's telekinetic field potentially being in constant passive contact with literally everything and everyone around. Especially not him.

If he's lucky, he'll be able to forget that new bit of knowledge as anything but an unfortunate new angle to his occasional sex dreams and just leave it at that.

"Oh," Tim says, feeling vaguely faint and still trying very hard not to think too hard about this new bit of knowledge. "Uh, that's . . . cool. Um. Can I talk to you? Er–please?"

"Need another museum un-robbed?" Kon asks, and Tim is genuinely surprised to be so immediately recognized. It's been over a week, Kon saves people's lives every day, and they'd barely even spoken.

"Not so much," he says. "I just wanted to thank you again. Um. Properly, I mean."

Kon tilts his head, a brief flicker of curiosity flashing through his eyes, then grins up at him.

"I told you, man, it's no big," he says. "It's just what I do, you know?"

"I know, yeah," Tim says. "But I still appreciate it. Can I cover your lunch for you?"

He figures that's a subtle little nudge towards what he wants out of this conversation. Get a foot in the door and all; set some expectations. Or at least try to work up to it.

"I don't know, can you?" Kon says with another brief flash of curiosity, though his grin doesn't change.

"I mean, you're a superhero so I assume you could stop me if you wanted, but otherwise I'm not really seeing any obstacles there," Tim replies reasonably. Kon laughs a lot more brightly than Tim usually gets to see him laugh, which is incredibly distracting, but the people glaring bloody murder at his back finally start letting up.

"I dunno, you're pretty cool under pressure," Kon says with a sly smirk. "Maybe I couldn't."

Tim hates his useless brain and all the totally inappropriate thoughts it immediately conjures up about various options for getting one over on Kon, because of course all of said options are sexy options. Kon's smirking at him all sly and teasing and Tim just made him laugh; there is literally no possible way they could not be.

God, he's going to be thinking about this for their entire next training session, isn't he. That's gonna be mortifying as fuck.

"I think you're underestimating yourself," he says. "You handled those assholes at the museum like they were nothing."

"Well, they weren't exactly Intergang," Kon says wryly.

"Still," Tim says. "The only casualty of an armed robbery and hostage situation was a vase."

"Apparently a very important vase, according to the papers," Kon says, making a face. "Superman told me I need to be more careful next time."

"Over a vase?" Tim says incredulously. He doesn't care how important the stupid vase was, Kon was busy protecting his skull from bullets. The vase's untimely demise is mildly unfortunate at best.

"Well, he wouldn't have broken it," Kon says with a shrug, picking up his mug to knock back the last of his drink. It looks like hot chocolate, not coffee.

"Neither did you," Tim points out. "You're not the one who freaked out and dropped their gun."

"Tell that to Superman," Kon snorts, briefly eyeing his empty mug before setting it back down. Then he shrugs again and grins again too, leaning forward a bit towards Tim. "It's whatever, man, no big deal. Wanna sit?"

Tim isn't actually sure what to do with that offer, but it would be helpful for making his pitch, so . . .

Though he doesn't know why Kon's making it, to be honest.

Still, no time to be looking the gift horse in the mouth, so Tim takes him up on it and sits down across from him. Kon looks weirdly pleased about it, for some reason. Tim still doesn't know why, but isn't gonna question it.

"Thanks," he tries.

"Pleasure's all mine," Kon says, flashing him a grin as he rests his chin in a hand. Tim remains mystified as to why he seems so pleased and why he even remembers him at all, but . . . okay, sure. This might as well happen. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Tim Drake," Tim says, feeling increasingly mystified.

"Nice to meet you, Tim," Kon says. "You know, without any weird magic goats or guns to anyone's head being involved."

Honestly, the magic goat and the gun to his head were both less weird in Tim's personal frame of reference than Kon's apparent interest in chatting him up in this trendy Metropolis café is, but whatever. It's useful, so he's gonna make full use of it.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #rinfic #long post #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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ohnococo · 6 months

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Kento Nanami NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He’s very quiet, soaking in the moment. He just wants to lie with you and feel that afterglow, hands playing with your hair, listening to your soft breaths. If he speaks it’s a whisper, and if he moves it’s slowly, keeping his hands on you as much as he can. Also he prefers not to pull out right away if you don’t mind it, just wants to be inside of you until one of you needs to get up.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Nanami likes his own hands. Strong, capable, and well-maintained. You won’t catch him with uneven nails or dry skin. He carries a nice hand cream in his coat to make sure of it. It’s not necessarily out of vanity, he just doesn’t like having rough hands.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Cums absolute buckets. Even if he just came like an hour ago it’s just SO much. Texture wise it’s on the thinner side, inoffensive taste as well. He’s not a shooter either, it gushes out more than anything, coating his knuckles and pooling on his hips.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I’m sorry I know we’ve discussed this at length but Nanami is 100% a filthy panty sniffer. He doesn’t like to do it outright, but whenever you leave him unattended with your panties he has to have a sniff and file the scent away in his mind to conjure up later when he’s fucking his fist.

When he’s been particularly stressed or pent up this becomes much less secret as he’ll shove his nose right against your cunt to sniff them while they’re still on you before taking them off.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Nanami is fairly average in terms of experience. He’s had sex before, and knows what he’s doing, though most of his skill comes from being an attentive lover.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Generally, anything face to face (like this or this) He wants to kiss you and be kissed, especially when you’re cumming, he wants you moaning into his mouth. He also loves being able to watch your face while you have sex.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Nanami is generally serious in the bedroom, sex with him doesn’t ever feel impersonal so he isn’t one to laugh or joke around. Even if it is a no-strings-attached situation, he’s always very intimate. That being said, bodies making funny noises, or situations that could lead to a laugh (or even embarrassment) like a cramped leg or slipping out of his grasp don’t phase him at all. He knows these things happen and isn’t uncomfortable about it, so he wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable either and just moves past it.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Not the popular take, but I personally hc Nanami as not being naturally blonde, so his pubic hair is dark, though he keeps it trimmed quite short.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Incredibly intimate, even if you aren’t really in a relationship or exclusive. He’s serious about you enjoying yourself, and he feeds off of your pleasure. Even from the first time he’s always kissing you, caressing you gently, whispering to you about how good you feel. Considerate of you as well, if you get especially sensitive and need a break after you cum he’s happy to lie there cuddling, kissing, being gentle until you’re ready for more - even if he hasn’t cum yet himself.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Nanami is zero or 100. Most often he masturbates in the shower, as a sort of release more than anything. These times his hands are quick and his eyes are closed, head tilted back, water hitting his back. Other times? He’s so slow with himself, rubbing his body all over for ages before he touches his own cock, then when he does he’ll make slow, drawn out thrusts into his hand. He cums hardest like this, but is the most relaxed. Likes cumming on himself in the moment, hates the cleanup afterwards. He finds it inconvenient, thus the usual shower sessions. He’s even worn a condom while masturbating for easy cleanup too.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Clothes on sex. It’s surprising at first because something like public sex with Nanami is an absolute hard no, but he loves nothing more than just undressing you enough to go down on you, or fuck you against the wall. He still takes his time, he still kisses whatever bare skin he can get to without completely undressing you, but something about it gets his balls tightening.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Honestly, locations are very vanilla for Nanami but as long as it’s in the privacy of your home he’s generally for it. His favourite is in bed, but when it comes to him going down on you?? He might throw a lot of his usual reservations out of the window. Whenever, wherever for him - in the kitchen on his knees while you’re trying to make breakfast, in the shower before work, even on the balcony where someone might see. It’s the only time he can be tempted to bend his hard Not in Public rule.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Flashing him your panties, asking him to go down on you, and he has a slight subby streak so telling him to do something (touch you, pull out his cock, get on his knees, etc) has his cock twitching immediately. Also, for as much as he doesn’t like any kind of public or risky sex, he loves having you whisper in his ear or text him dirty things in public.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’s willing to discuss a lot of things, and even if it’s not something he would have jumped to do if you tell him why you want it or how bad you want it he’s willing to reconsider trying it. However he generally doesn’t like any kind of public sex, as far as he’s concerned it has the potential of involving people who have not consented to walking in on something so he can’t really get into it the way he prefers.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He loves receiving, of course, but giving? It borders on fetish for him. He loves smelling you, tasting you, having his face covered in your juices. It drives him crazy. It’s what he thinks about when he jerks himself off, it’s what he wants to relieve his stress after a long day, when he finally gets that much needed vacation it’s first on the itinerary.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Nanami prefers to take it slow, slow kisses, slow strokes, and he loves being sensual. It’s a full body experience for him and he wants to be able to focus on every part of it.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Quickies are out of necessity for Nanami, typically when there’s just no time and it’s not really an often occurrence for him. He‘s a patient man, a fan of delayed gratification, so he’d rather just wait until you can do things properly. The exception is when he’s been especially stressed, and he just needs that release. In cases like that, you’ll find him rushing home and asking to go down on you then and there - having his face buried between your legs where he can smell and taste you is stress relief for him and if you only have 10 minutes before you need to be somewhere, well then he’ll have you cumming fast.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Absolutely down to experiment, but risks are always informed and measured. He doesn’t go into anything on a whim, he wants to do it properly so anything you may suggest he’ll have to think on, and anything he suggests will have been thought over already.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He has a fairly long refractory period. You aren’t going to get another session for the news several hours at least once he’s cum, however he is incredibly disciplined at keeping himself from cumming no matter how close to the edge he is. It comes from his habit of getting himself close then pausing or slowing down until he’s no longer on the precipice of orgasm. He didn’t even know about “edging” for the longest time, it was just something he did because he enjoys the journey as much as he enjoys finally cumming hard at the end of it. Because of that he has incredible stamina and lasts long enough that most will be satisfied and welcome a break.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own any toys himself, but he will take an interest in yours and knowing what you like, how you use them, and likes using them on you or during sex with you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Nanami can be one to tease for sure, though it’s not always intentional. When he has the time he likes to take it very slow, to the point it borders on edging. He’ll build you up to your orgasms and then stop just to kiss you long enough that the feeling fades, only to start up again. He can go for ages like this - though sometimes he’s teasing himself more than you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He isn’t very loud, more than anything he breathes heavily when he’s close and has these contented sighs throughout - deep noises carried on a low hum. He does let out the odd moan but it’s very low and breathy. More of a grunt when he’s cumming too.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He can and will be out here naked for sex with his socks still on, pulled all the way up too. It doesn’t even occur to him to take them off, because it’s not like they’re in the way, right?

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Nanami’s cock is thick, especially the head of his cock. It’s soft and smooth and a pretty salmon colour too. 7 inches, uncut, veiny, and his balls are HEAVY. Big, surprisingly not that low hanging for the size of them - will definitely slap against you when he’s fucking you.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive can fluctuate wildly. Sometimes he’s horny really often for days on end, sometimes he’s not bothered by a lengthy dry spell. When he’s very stressed his sex drive does seem to be higher, at the very least for the opportunity to have some kind of release at the end (or middle) of the day. He’s flexible though, in that he can match his partner’s sex drive without feeling like he’s doing more or less than he wants.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Nanami is very relaxed right after he cums, it’s the most peaceful you’ll see him, but not to the extent of falling asleep. He likes to just bask in the feeling for a while, talk if you’re up for it, enjoy the silence if not. He will nod off eventually, but not before he pees and gets ready for bed properly.

#my writing #minors dni #jjk headcanons #jjk smut #nanami #self insert #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you

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weebsinstash · 6 months

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I just have to say I'm absolutely loving your yandere Thragg & Nolan stuff! Keep it up & I hope you have a nice day!! ♡

Thank you! And, also, gonna be using this post to talk about more yandere Thragg stuff because I was refreshing my knowledge on the comics and my YTShorts feeds are now filled with Invincible lore recommendations and, jesus I forgot how fucking nasty this man is

first off I'm using this image to just help kind of visualize how much of a unit this man is. Like. He's probably something crazy like 6'6 at the very shortest, maybe like 6'8, 6'9. But. Um. He's scary. He's tough. Viltrumites get tougher the longer they're alive and he's, not THE oldest Viltrumite but, maybe he's in like the top 10? But I think there's only something like an odd, less than 50 number of pure blooded Viltrumites left anyways lmao

Which is then my transition to "dealing with yandad Thragg as his child could be an absolute nightmare especially if you don't have powers"

Dying on my hill of "even if you do have powers he's super fucking possessive over who you're choosing as a mate or even just dating" because there's layers of 1. He has his own massive ego and your actions reflect on him and anyone you bring into the family will benefit from his lineage and achievements and he's defensive about who reaps those bounties or may even be suspicious of political intentions 2. If he hypothetically does let you date he needs to pre approve them first and I'm sure you can imagine how that goes and 3. .... you're his widdle baby, can't you spend more time with dad :( shut up about finding love, why can't you crush skulls with him? "Child why can't we go slaughter alien civilizations together like we used to 😩"

The last paragraph made me think of "Thragg with a child Reader who's actually a really spunky tough kid and he like is so proud of you and you guys have like An Actually Good Relationship (for Thragg's capacity to love anyways) but as you get older you start having ideological differences and you want more freedom but he just wants you to be Daddys Favorite Little Killing Machine for the rest of your life". Like you're just giving Thragg the cold shoulder because he won't let you leave the planet without his personal escort anymore and meanwhile here's thragg hovering over you with his arms crossed, internally scowl-pouting as he remembers The Good Old Days when you were like 6 and ran up to him, "Dad, Dad, look!! this is a note from my teacher praising me for how well I beat up another student! She says I'm 'extremely proficient at bludgeoning'! Did I do a good job?" "You did an EXCELLENT job. It says here the boy needed medical attention." "Yeah, he had to be sent to the hospital! His legs were totally bent the wrong ways! He shouldnt have tried to steal my toy!" "Fine work; you should never allow anyone to take what is yours. We shall feast tonight in celebration." And he pet your hair and you flew up to his chest height to give him a crushing hug. And nowadays you're like. The Viltrumite equivalent of being in your early adult years and everything is extremely cold and impersonal and you call him nothing other than Grand Regent and he "maybe" just wants his eager confident prideful Affectionate child back because all he has now is. A child that hates him and will barely make eye contact with him and will never accept his praise or medals for your achievements.

Like imagine being a notoriously powerful Viltrumite and you're actually widely accepted but him being controlling of you throughout your childhood eventually gave you a complex. Thragg summons you to like praise you for like, subjugating a nearby galaxy, and asks what you would like for a reward, and you just coolly reply some shit like "There's nothing you could offer that I want, Grand Regent" like you hate him so much you don't even want gifts from this man

AND THE DELICIOUS DRAMA OF, imagine if he finds out that while you hate him and want nothing to do with him, maybe you've become extremely attached to Nolan or some other older father figure in his place

THE SHIT THAT GOES DOWN IF THRAGG EVER HEARS YOU CALL NOLAN OR ANYONE ELSE "DAD" like the cosmic level beef that goes on, the BLOODSHED. Jesus. Imagine being on Earth and you've got Dad Nolan or he's like declared himself your dad/mentor and he sees you bonding with another human male who's a father figure and you call that man dad, like. That man is going missing and Uncle Sam is erasing his existence from the records just, gone.

Side note actually, idea for something yandere viltrumites do with a viltrumite/hybrid reader: loving to bear hug you super hard? Like almost painfully but they won't break anything. Just. Imagine yandad Nolan or Thragg or Mark with like, a lil sibling/ child/ age regressed Reader or whatever and you're having like, hugging contests to see who can hug the hardest, and play wrestling shit idk. Imagine the infamously grumpy genocidal Thragg and then here's his like 4 year old wanting to play wrestle and trying to pin him and you're no match for him of course but like it's not, real, he's "gently" deflecting you or breaking your hold but still actually praising you in that, Thragg dad way, "your stance is too weak to take down an opponent of my size, but you're improving" " your siblings usually tire by now; you seem to have more endurance than most of my other children your age. Excellent" and then your little baby mouth gives him a kiss on the cheek and he has to go subjugate another planet to feel manly again.

I feel like yandad Thragg and Nolan are unironically those characters that are like, they could be in the middle of a war zone and they're easily winning and you go upstairs to see what they're thinking about, surely they're thinking about something serious, and it's just "I need to hurry this up and get back to my child" or "I wonder what my little warrior is doing right now" like straight up like the father from Father I Don't Want This Marriage

Yandere Thragg and Nolan are all "oh it's part of the Viltrum way to mate and procreate and boost our numbers" and Reader comes along "hey dad this is my new boyfriend--" and suddenly they turn into like, Christian fundamentalists. "Um actually that Viltrumite male is even older than I am 🤓 you are still so young and should be enjoying the fruits of your youth 🤓 you are too young to have children"

I feel like though like if you ever did manage to sneak off and get pregnant or get someone else pregnant that, specifically Nolan would adore his new grand baby and would do anything for this chubby cutie 🥺❤️ also imagine the horror if he's not even your blood dad, just obsessive self proclaimed stalker yandere shit, but you can't run away from him and he's finds you and your baby and instantly declares himself grandpa, like. Now you have to worry about protecting yourself and your baby from "PawPaw"

So like. Future spoilers I guess? Not super significant in my opinion, but, there's a period of time where there's like a truce of sorts between Earth and Viltrum, right, to keep it vague and less spoiler heavy. Imagine being like, Nolan's kid, or adopted kid, or like, neighbor who turned out to be a hybrid that he yoinked into his house or whatever, and like, after there's been some fighting, Thragg is impressed with your strength and potential and seems to be scouting you out a little. Now you've got TWO older Viltrumite males trying to father you, "my apologies Grand Regent but I was just about to take this one out to teach them how to fly better" "that is unnecessary; i shall be the one to tutor the youngling" meanwhile you're just like uhhhhh I'm not actually a big fan of how EITHER of you treat me-"

bruhhhh all hell breaks loose when you finally lose it and fly straight off the planet to try and start a new life elsewhere without them cuz then these two are TEAMING UP and they're feeding into each other, "I bet they were convinced to leave by that one male, the one who we had to warn before" "and that's why you're weak Nolan. I wanted to kill him but you didn't want to hurt the youth's feelings, and now what's happened? They're probably eloping as we speak" "no, I won't make the same mistake twice. He'll die a slow death"

You're on like some alien planet surrounded by like simple little ewoks or some shit who treat you like a water god because you dug a well for them or something and here comes Thragg and Nolan touchdown slamming onto the planet's surface and leaving craters behind, scaring the birds, the animals, your new little cute alien friends huddling behind you for protection, and you're getting SCOLDED SCOLDED. like one minute your new little like moogle friend is teaching you how to bake some kind of bread and the next minute, "AND JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK YOURE DOING HERE" and you're jumping to see two pissed pissed PISSED Viltrumites

"O-oh, uh, I thought I made it clear when I left--"

"The only thing that you've made clear is that you're too unpredictable and naive to be left alone"

"What were you THINKING?! You could've gotten lost, hurt, captured, or worse! And leaving Viltrum for, what?! Are these your pets? We can enslave a few and take them with us if you like em so much"

"If you EVER leave without my permission as Grand Regent again I'll reduce whatever backwater rock you stumble off to into nothing more than rubble floating through the stars, is that understood?"

"..."

"Answer him!"

'*sigh* yes, sirs"

"That's FATHER to you"

" - and Dad!"

#yandere invincible #yandere x reader #sinprompts #yandere stuff #these two always at each othsrs throats and then one day you just catch them sitting down talking about you #bonding over their. uh. attachment and surveillance of you

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larkandkatydid · 7 months

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Horror About the American West

(definitions of all nouns in that description are flexible)

Angela Carter, American Ghosts and Old World Wonders. This is a UK only release, but in the 21st century, anyone can get ahold of it. Every story is great, but John Ford's 'Tis Pity She's a Whore was life-changing.

Victor LaVelle, Lone Women. Beautiful, hautning imagery of the vast Montanta wildnerness but alos just the perfect scary story set-up: A woman shows up with a trunk that's securely locked and that she won't allow anyone to open....

Alma Katsu, The Hunger. A mildy trashy fictionalization of the Donner Party but has some great creepy scenes.

Claire Vaye Watkins, Battleborn. Is this collection of literary short stories technically horror? Probably not, but Claire Vay Watkisn herself is an icornic horror archetype that shows up in Scream V, Nightmare on Elm Street VI and specifically the semi-obscure Harlan Ellison novella, The Resurgance of Miss Ankle-Strap Wedge, so everything she does counts as horror. But most importantly, the cosmic horror of all these stories is the Nevada desert, which will kill you impersonally.

V. Castro, Queen of the Cicadas/La Reina de Las Chicharras: What if a novel had the balls-to-the-wall gruesome energy of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre? Wouldn't that aboslutely rule?

Tananarive Due, The Good House. This book takes place in the far west coast of Washington State, which is a different, wetter kind of "west" than everything else on this list, but I just adore this book. Due is the closet thing we have to a new Stephen King or Stephen Spielberg in terms of her ability to create these richly realized characters who feel like they have full lives off the page. This books gave me the same feelings of love and catharthis that I felt reading The Shining for the very first time.

Stephen Graham Jones, Growing Up Dead in Texas: This is one of Jones' experimental books that are less fun and accessible than his big hits, but it's one that I think of often. It's a critique of a particular kind of true cime memoir, a refusal to turn one's marginalized childhood into a digestible story for the This American Life crowd. It's an ambitious, post-modern work.

Stephen King, 1922: An underrated King novella that hit all his best notes of grim misogyny, rural isolation and Tales From the Crypt gross-outs.

Gillian Flynn, Dark Places. Not as literary as Sharp Objects, not as tight as Gone Girl, but special and beloved to me. This is a tale of the Farm Aid/ Satanic Panic 1980s and really wallows in the isolation and misery of the great plains, .

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ffc1cb · 3 months

Text

new art blog

the short version:

1. i made a new art blog: @cbge;

2. @ffc1cb will stay up as an archive.

the long version:

hi everyone. this announcement is somewhat late, since the blog in question has been up for a few months now, and i’ve already started posting art on it. the reason it took me so long to “reveal” it is because i’ve been trying to figure out whether a new blog is something i actually want, or if it's just me throwing darts at a board, trying to make myself feel better somehow.

i don’t know when precisely it all started, but ever since sometime last year i’ve been going through a hard time, both emotionally and creatively. i’m not sure whether being depressed is what made art harder, or art becoming harder is what made me depressed (a bit of both, i think), but lately, drawing has been a struggle.

i’ve found myself having less and less energy for art, and this lack of energy resulted in poorer quality of drawings, which resulted in me feeling like i’m getting worse at it, despite my efforts. i knew i could make good art, art that i’m proud of - i’ve done so countless times before, - but somehow it felt like i just couldn’t anymore, like my hands forgot how to. nothing looked right.

i’ve been trying to experiment. i’ve learned some new things, tried this and that - it was enlightening, to say the least, and even though i kind of liked how it looked, it made me feel a sense of displacement. i was at odds with myself, my art, and how i felt about it, when previously i was always in sync. i was making art, yes, and it looked nice, but it felt like it wasn’t mine.

i suppose part of it was also the growing lack of engagement, and i don’t mean likes and reblogs - i never particularly cared about those. they are all just numbers to me; dry and impersonal. what i’m talking about is actual, human interactions: personal thoughts in tags, asks, replies, etc. a conversation.

i don’t mean to sound “old” or anything, but i remember when talking to artists online was more commonplace. my wife tells me it’s because the internet culture has changed over the years, that people have become more reclusive, less willing to be open with their thoughts, and she's probably right, but in my slump i find it hard to believe. somehow it feels like it’s my fault for being less “engaging”, for seeming unapproachable or perhaps intimidating. maybe it’s “just a skill issue”, maybe it’s because i have stopped churning out fanart for popular fandoms, maybe it’s because i refuse to torture myself emotionally by having an art account on twitter (i can’t fucking stand the place anymore; i still post nsfw art there, but only because it’s literally one of the only places on the internet that allows you to do so. i miss when you could post female presenting tits on tumblr).

i have always, ever since i started posting art on the internet back in 2012, done it for human connection. i wanted to talk to people, and have people talk to me. i wanted to inspire people with my art, and i wanted to bring them comfort. i wanted to elicit an emotional response, and have people tell me about it. it was one of the main reasons i drew in the first place; having lost that, i’ve been struggling to stay passionate about making art.

i miss being a small artist on the internet during the 2010s. i remember when i could make a post going, “hey everyone, how are you all doing today?” and it would not seem weird to people in the slightest. it is just me? does anyone else feel that way? am i too deep in my own head? the internet feels so unwelcoming nowadays, especially to artists. we are all just content machines; people scroll by our stuff, or maybe look at it for half a second and leave a like before scrolling away. i know it’s unfair to demand people’s attention, especially now when our lives are already so overwhelmed by everything - no one has the energy to pay closer attention; i myself am not immune to mindless scrolling. but it feels bad. i wish we were all sincere and enthusiastic again.

anyway (sorry for rambling. i hope i haven’t bored you to death), you might want to say, okay, but how is making a new art blog on a “dying” social platform going to help with any of that? the truth is, i don’t know. i just felt like i needed a change.

i’ve been running this blog since 2016 (that’s almost 8 full years!). i feel incredibly attached to it, but at the same time, i feel it weighing me down.

there are people who followed me years ago for one specific thing, still expecting me to post about said thing (i still find it mindboggling that some people follow artists for a specific fandom only, but that is a whole other matter for a whole other post that i will never write). a third, if not half, of my following are probably dead blogs. and with my current struggle with trying to regain the joy i once felt for making art, looking back at all the art i’ve done over the years makes me feel tired. i still love it all; it’s all very dear to me. i’m proud of it; looking at it makes me mourn my younger and more passionate self.

so i’ve decided to make a new blog, where i will let myself post whatever i want, in whatever stage of donness i feel like. maybe it will help me, somehow. maybe it won’t. but if you care about my art, if you want to keep following me on my artistic journey, i welcome you to join me there. similarly, feel free not to - no hard feelings.

thank you everyone for your support over the years; it matters a lot to me. i’m not planning to delete or private this blog; it will stay up, and i will still be reachable on here. i will still answer asks, if there will be any. i’m just not planning to post any art here anymore. this is it for my dear old friend ffc1cb.

i can be found in other places:

@cbge, as mentioned earlier,

@k0nstanta, an art blog dedicated solely to my wife and i’s ocs,

@inquisimail, a dragon age ask blog that has become my dragon age sideblog in general,

and multiple other blogs, none of which are art related, but feel free to ask, if you’re curious.

thank you very much for reading all of this. i hope you have a wonderful day.

#salt talks

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jackalmeat · 1 year

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One of my favorite little understated illustrations of the pains Viktor takes to keep others at a distance when he's struggling is his way of addressing Sky Young.

He says her name on only two occasions over the course of the season: the first when he bids her good night in the lab, and the second when he calls out to her in a panic as he realizes that she's been consumed by the Hexcore. The first time we hear him say her name, it's polite but impersonal -- 'Miss Young'. The second time though, it's an instinctive, hysterical 'Sky!'

And it only becomes clear that 'Sky' is probably how he usually addresses her, as opposed to 'Miss Young', when we see him default to it in this moment of tragedy and scrambled emotion. Which in turn retroactively suggests that his earlier use of 'Miss Young' was a more purposeful snub than might have been evident at first glance.

It's easy to handwave, "Well, 'Sky' is shorter and less formal, so it makes sense that in a panic he'd just blurt out whatever name was faster to say!"........except for the fact that that doesn't really make sense. Or rather, that's simply not how stressed, disoriented brains tend to work. If you're accustomed to calling someone "A" in your usual dealings, it's unlikely that you'll spontaneously be compelled to switch to the less familiar "B" in a moment of extreme emotion, precisely because that's the kind of finnicky little decision that our brains really suck at making under duress. Instead, the brain (and subsequently the mouth) is much more likely to leap to the name that's the most familiar and natural.

Point being: 'Sky' is likely the form of address that Viktor is most accustomed to using with her, since that's where his mouth immediately defaults when the chips are down.

Follow-up point being: if the above is true and 'Sky' is his typical way of referring to her, then that also suggests that it was a wholly conscious decision on his part to instead address her like this--

--in the earlier scene where she encouraged him to step away from his work for the night and spend a little bit of friendly, low-stakes time with her. The dismissal here is two-fold, emphasizing both physical distance (declining her invitation to walk home together) and emotional distance (referring to her in a polite but decidedly less personal way than is suggested to be his usual). If we assume that he indeed usually addresses her simply as 'Sky', then his choice to revert to 'Miss Young' at this particular moment would have been all the more marked to her, and would probably have had about the same effect as if he'd literally closed a door directly in her face.

(Which would also explain why her eyes immediately go distinctly tearful in response to this line. She isn't merely disappointed that the man she admires and cares about is choosing to keep working rather than walk home with her. She's hurt because, in just a couple of pointedly polite words, Viktor has essentially drawn a boundary around himself and let her know, 'I'm not interested in getting personal in the way that you're asking me to do. Back up. Stay behind the line, please.')

Regardless of whether you believe that Viktor is aware of Sky's romantic feelings for him or not, he's absolutely aware of the fact that she's inviting him to spend a little time with her not simply as a coworker, but as a companion. She's inviting him to make a human connection -- and he refuses it by rejecting both the invitation itself as well as the basic intimacy of even using her name. Not just ignoring the figurative outstretched hand, but actively pushing it away from him; and doing so not because he's cruel, lacking empathy, or dismissive of her, but because the walls are closing in on him, and 'alone' is what he knows when it comes to dealing with his own problems.

#Arcane #Viktor #Sky Young #Arcane meta #there's a conversation to be had too about how visible disability and chronic illness could play into his need for a sense of control #not only over his own body but over how others perceive him and bear witness to his vulnerable parts; literally and figuratively #so used to needing to PROVE himself and not show 'weakness' that it's hard for him to accept ANY help or kindness even when it's NOT pity #but that's a whole other thing for a whole other time

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befuddled-calico-whump · 6 months

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Total $hit$how: Punching Bags

in which Benji realizes he's in over his head.

cw: violence, abusive training methods, threats, adult/crude language

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

×~×~×

Wandering the base hadn't been nearly as fun as Benji had hoped.

It was mostly just empty government-style hallways and locked doors. So many locked doors. Made even more frustrating by the fact that the locks all looked easy as shit, and if he tried, Benji could have any of them open in a matter of seconds. Maybe all of them. He wondered how long it would take him to open every door in the facility if he was really trying. Ten minutes? Fifteen? There was always the chance that a locked door would just lead to more locked doors, but that wasn't really fair to count against him.

But… he wasn't going to do that. No matter how bored he got here. Normally he didn't care too much for following rules, you couldn't make a living as a thief if you did, but Sahota's all-but-outright-stated threat made him think better of it.

If he messed up here, he would go to jail.

He'd already been there briefly, while waiting on a trial, and that had been… significantly less than fun. Benji imagined a state prison would be worse, especially if he was in for literal decades. So, fine. He'd be a good boy and do what he was told, even if their mission sounded made up.

There were a few doors that weren't locked. A decent-sized kitchen and adjacent dining hall. A computer lab that doubled as a small library. A huge, open room with cushioned floors that Benji assumed was the training area.

Eventually, Vic found them and showed them to their rooms. They were down a hall, behind yet another locked door, but Vic gave them keys for this one.

There was a room for each of them, thank God. Benji would lose his mind if he had to room with one of these doofuses. Joy and Jericho seemed alright, but he never trusted a first impression. Kaius was a classic arrogant rich boy, probably turned into an asshole by parents and teachers who constantly praised his intellect. And Harbor seemed more than a little unstable. The kind of guy who'd snap and stab you in your sleep if you looked at him wrong.

Sure, he'd learn to get along with them; he got along with everyone given enough time, but sharing a living space was a different story.

The rooms were small and impersonal. A little bland for Benji’s tastes, and if he weren't fresh out of a jail cell he might've complained more. It was late, and he was tired from all the new information that had been chucked at him throughout the day, so he fell onto the bed before doing too much poking around.

The next morning, at seven sharp, they all filed into the training bay as instructed. Everyone else was wearing a set of dark gray workout attire.

Shit, did he not get the memo? He hadn't bothered to dig through the drawers the night before, and had just changed into the same clothes he'd worn yesterday, minus the fishnet undershirt. Now he was standing there in a crop top, looking ridiculous.

When Harbor stumbled in, ten minutes late and wearing the same rumpled shirt and oversized jacket he'd had on at the briefing, Benji didn't know if he felt better or worse.

On the one hand, at least he wasn't the only one who'd goofed. On the other, he didn't want everyone else to start grouping him with Harbor.

“I see most of you found the training uniforms.”

Benji turned around. Sahota was walking into the room, his face impassive as ever though his tone was full of irritation.

“Right, sorry,” Benji said. “Maybe give us better instruction next time instead of running off? Even just a note could work. Oh, or those little instruction pamphlets that come inside board games, that would've been a huge help—”

“Is this just a game to you, Ruebin?”

Benji gave him an exaggerated wince. “No," he said "I can honestly say that me staying out of prison is a very serious matter. I'm just saying—”

“Then shut up and pay attention.” He sauntered to the center of the group, leaving Benji to throw an exasperated look in Joy’s direction, which she answered with a small grin.

In his experience, the quickest way to bond with someone was by complaining about someone else.

Sahota unzipped his jacket and cast it aside, then turned to face them. He was… actually kind of hot, even if Benji was reluctant to admit it. Warm brown skin and lean muscle. Scars running up and down his arms that served to add an edge to his look, and a tattoo of something—a hawk? Some kind of bird—curling along the side of his neck. His dark hair was cut short at the sides and allowed just enough length to curl at the top, and his eyes were framed by thick lashes. If the guy wasn't such a prick, he might’ve tried to chat him up.

“Today we'll be doing some sparring," Sahota said. "I assume most of you already have some combatives experience, but I'll need a firsthand look to see if your skills are adequate.”

Joy raised her hand. Benji found it adorable how she kept doing that, like a kindergartner excited to learn.

“So you're going to watch us fight each other?”

“No,” Sahota said. “You're going to fight me.”

Shit. Benji raised his hand. “Ah… exactly how important are these combatives?”

He was more flight than fight. Hell, not even that. As long as his jaw was working, Benji was a talker. He'd avoided countless black eyes and broken bones through simple verbal de-escalation. The few times he had been dragged into a scuffle hadn't gone very well for him.

“It's a matter of life and death.” From anybody else, that would've sounded like a joke, but Sahota was dead serious. “Each potential target will be swarming with guards. If you end up cornered, really cornered, it'll be a fight to survive. Understood?”

Benji swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Shoes off. Vic doesn't like the mats getting scuffed.”

Benji crouched, unlacing his boots with a heavy sigh. This was gonna suck, wasn't it? Maybe he should just volunteer to go first and get this over with—

“I'll go first if that's okay,” Jericho piped up. “Might as well get it over with.”

Oh, son of a… well. Great minds think alike and all that. Benji scooted away from the mat, eyes on his brand new teammate as the man stepped up and came face-to-face with Sahota. Their handler smirked—if you could call it that. It was a half-smirk. Quarter smirk. Barely noticeable at all.

Jericho was nearly a head taller than him and twice as wide, all nervous smiles and beefy arms as Sahota sized him up.

“Alright Davis. Come at me.”

“What, right away?”

Sahota hit him.

Nothing devastating, just a little pop on the jaw, but Benji physically cringed at the blow, and Jericho staggered back in surprise.

“If you're caught in a fight, you can't hesitate,” Sahota said. Jericho gave a sharp nod and swung on him, but the smaller man dodged the blow effortlessly.

“If you don't have skill, you'll need to make up for it with speed. If you know you're cornered, be the first to strike.”

He sidestepped another blow from Jericho as he spoke, sending a sharp kick into his opponent’s ribs.

“You're strong, Davis, but too slow.”

Jericho lunged at Sahota, making to grab him, but their handler dodged that too.

“And you're holding back.”

“I… I don't want to hurt you,” Jericho said, sounding a little winded.

“Your enemy won't feel the same.”

Sahota dropped to the floor, moving quicker than Benji thought possible as he took Jericho’s legs out from under him with a sweeping kick, then pouncing on the bigger man when he hit the ground, wrestling him into a chokehold before he could react.

Jericho tapped out, and Sahota let him up. The whole thing was over in under two minutes, and their handler wasn't even breathing heavily.

Maybe it was a better strategy to go last, when Sahota was the slightest bit tired out. If he got tired at all. Even then, Benji really didn't like his odds.

“I'll go next,” Joy said, stepping up to the mat as Jericho trudged back to his spot on the floor, one hand on his ribs. Benji threw a sympathetic look his way, or rather, a can you believe this guy look.

“Begin.”

Having apparently learned from Jericho’s match, Joy lunged right away, dropping a knee between Sahota’s legs and thrusting her body forward, driving them both to the ground. The move seemed to have taken the man by surprise, but he didn't stay that way for long, engaging with Joy before she could throw an arm around his neck. The two grappled for a moment, but Sahota came out on top. Benji wasn't overly shocked as he released the defeated Joy.

“Not terrible,” he said. “But against a larger opponent you wouldn't stand a chance.”

“That's what guns are for,” Joy panted.

Kaius went next. Small as he was, he was surprisingly good at kicking, and actually almost landed a blow. Benji felt a little vindicated when he didn't, even more so when he was swiftly put into a chokehold. If Kaius was the first one to match Sahota, Benji had the feeling he'd only get smugger.

With Kaius beaten that marked three fights won, and Sahota didn't look the slightest bit tired.

“Are you ready, Harbor?”

“If it means I get to punch you.” Harbor shuffled over to the mat, hands stuffed into the pockets of his oversized jacket. His multicolored hair, buzzed on one side and long on the other, gave the appearance of a parrot sitting on his shoulder. A feral parrot. Who'd been caught in a particularly bad storm. His height matched Jericho's, but he was scrawny, with a build like the kid from the chocolate factory movie after he'd been stretched by the taffy puller.

“Begin.”

Harbor darted forward, closed fist shooting out and… and actually catching Sahota across the chin.

Their handler seemed just as surprised as Benji was. Of all the people to land a blow, Harbor had got it first?

Sahota recovered quickly, dancing around the next few jabs. Harbor moved like a drunk monkey, slouchy and swaying, but he was fast.

What had he said at the briefing? He had some kind of biotech implant that made him quicker? In that case, completely unfair. Benji hoped he wouldn't have to fight him.

On the other hand, having Harbor on his side in a fight would be a plus. Even after Sahota had landed a few hits of his own, the taller man hadn't slowed down, the half-crazed smile on his face spreading with every blow.

Which was more than a little bit unsettling. Benji once again found himself glad he didn't have to share a room with the guy.

After what seemed like forever, Sahota managed to get him on the ground, wrapping an arm around his throat and squeezing, the finishing move that had ended every other match.

Only Harbor didn't tap.

His face was contorted into a snarl, blood dribbling down his chin as his hands clawed at the arm around his neck. His upper lip was starting to go purple.

“Sahota…” Jericho said. “I think he's done.”

Their handler didn't move.

“Sahota.”

Harbor's jaw worked soundlessly, his feet scraping at the ground. A sick fear settled in Benji’s stomach. He wasn't… he wasn't about to watch this guy die, was he? Sahota wouldn't go that far, would he?

His mouth fell open, to reason with the other man, to shout for him to stop, but words didn't come. Beside him, Joy jumped to her feet, striding forward. Jericho was already standing, looking like he was about to charge in as well.

“Hey!”

Harbor's arms fell slack at his sides, and Sahota at last let go, letting the other man fall limp onto the mat as he stood.

Joy bent over Harbor's body. “What the fuck was that?”

“He'll be fine,” Sahota muttered. He was more winded than he'd been after his fight with Kaius, but his expression remained impassive. Not angry, or regretful, just… just a whole lot of nothingness. Like he didn't care at all. He was just doing his job, and he had no room for showing mercy at it.

And Benji was up next.

“Are you supposed to be training us or hurting us?” Benji said, finding words at last. “Is this really what Vic wants from you?”

“Who do you think I learned it from?”

Behind him, Harbor's eyes fluttered open with a groan. Joy offered him a hand, but he swatted it aside, staggering to his feet with difficulty. Sahota watched him limp away.

“You're quick, Harbor, but you're a sloppy fighter,” he said. “However, you're also the only one who didn't tap. Good work.”

“Good?” Joy scowled. “You're a shitty trainer if you think that's a good thing."

Sahota ignored her. “Get on the mat, Ruebin. You're up.”

Oh, fuck me.

Benji chewed the inside of his cheek as he pushed himself to his feet. Everyone here was a better brawler than him, and everyone here was already sporting bruises from their go with Sahota. No way would he escape unscathed.

“Go easy on me,” he said, trying to make it sound like a joke. “I don't even know how to throw a punch.”

“Begin.”

He knew he should follow the handler's suggestion and strike first, but Benji couldn't bring himself to move closer to his opponent. Sahota took a step forward, and he took a step back, hands half-up as if he'd actually be fast enough to protect his face.

“Maybe we should just—”

Sahota swung on him, and Benji jumped back with a yelp, barely evading the blow. Shit!

“Dodging won't always save you. What will you do when the door is barricaded? When you're trapped?”

That was where words came in. “Can't I just offer to go down on him?” he snipped.

Sahota answered with a jab to the jaw that sent Benji’s head snapping to the side, and he staggered backwards, losing his balance and landing hard on his ass. He scrambled to his feet as Sahota stalked towards him, holding his hands up in awkward fists, cheek throbbing.

His opponent spun on his heel, sending a kick directly into Benji’s side, which he accepted with a cry and a stumble, arms instinctively rising to protect his head, body panicking and not moving in the right direction quick enough.

“If all you're going to do is cower, you're never going to win.”

Benji grit his teeth, getting his hands back up. He flung a blind punch at Sahota, and was unsurprised when it didn't make contact. The other man took advantage of the opening, planting a heavy kick in Benji's stomach.

He crumpled, retching as the boot sent a spike of pain and nausea through his torso, up his spine. Sahota was towering over him, moving to pin him down—

“Wait!” Benji threw up a hand to shield himself. “Wait, wait, I surrender. Okay? You win.”

Sahota stopped. “You surrender?” he echoed, his voice low. An edge had entered his tone, and Benji didn't like it one bit.

“Your mission is to destroy top-secret equipment owned by a company with enough money to own you a thousand times over. Do you know what happens if you surrender?”

Benji searched for something witty, something he could throw out to defuse the situation, and came up empty handed. “N-no, I—”

He cried out as Sahota seized a fistful of his hair and hauled him to his feet, scalp set on fire by the sudden force, only half-aware of the shouts of alarm from the others.

“If you surrender, they'll want information. Who sent you. Why. They'll do anything to get it. And when you give it up, when you sell us out, Vic and I will do worse. Understood?”

Benji squeezed his eyes shut, nodding as much as the hand in his hair would allow.

“Good. Now stand up and fight—”

“I think that's enough.” Jericho was behind Benji. He hadn't heard him walking up. “Sahota, let him go.”

When he dared to open his eyes, their handler was glaring up at Jericho. But the grip in his hair loosened, and the big guy caught Benji as he fell backwards.

Sahota turned his back on them, silent for a moment. Benji imagined he was contemplating lunging for Jericho, then coming back to beat him up when the bigger man was unconscious.

“That's enough sparring for one day,” Sahota said at last. “Take the next few hours to train as you see fit. Vic will be around to brief you on individual skill use later.”

Benji clung to Jericho as they left the mat behind. His ribs and stomach felt bruised, and his hands were trembling. Fuck, Sahota was good at making threats that shook him to his core.

“You okay?” Jericho asked, and Benji could only nod. Had anyone else caught what Sahota had growled at him? Did they know how fucked they were if they failed? It was probably better for the overall mood if he didn't tell them. Sure would do wonders for his if he could unhear it.

Sahota started to leave the room, but stopped just short of the door.

“I'm sure you all think I'm a monster,” he said, not turning around. “But when all this is over, when you survive it, you'll thank me.”

Benji watched him go with a barely-suppressed shudder. After today, prison wasn't sounding too bad after all.

#man these are long #this one was really fun to write though!#i love benji's pov lol #violence #beaten up #choking #total$hit$how #team whump

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yunhohours · 1 year

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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ♡ 𝙰 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑: 𝚂𝚊𝚗 ♡

Request: thoughts about a relationship with choi san? 😔💗

King of pet names

Baby, prince/princess, angel, love, beautiful, handsome

He will only use your name for serious moments when he wants you to really hear him

Loves to throw a ‘my’ in front of any of the pet names

Partially just to see the way you light up at the thought of being his

But also because he loves reminding you that you’re his, not that you’d ever forget

“You look so lovely today, my prince/princess.”

Looks at you with heart eyes all the time

When you’re speaking, he stares directly into your eyes with so much softness in his

When you’re just sitting there, he gazes at you endearingly

He never once takes for granted how lucky he is to have you

Sends you voice notes because texting can feel too impersonal to him

Especially in the mornings when his eyes are too tired to text

So you sit there, stomach flooding with butterflies as you listen to his sleepy morning voice

He lowkey knows it affects you and that’s a big motivator for him to keep doing it

Though he’d never let you know he knows

Always ready to solve any and every problem for you, no matter how small

You text him about forgetting to bring your snack with you to school/work?

He is doordashing it to you as we speak

Someone was rude to you when you went out?

Don’t worry baby, he just needs their name, address, and a photo

He just wants to talk

Let’s be honest he does just want to talk he wouldn’t hurt a fly but he WOULD talk with passion!!

If you get periods, he is the Prepared Boyfriend

Has an entire basket of things he knows you might need/want during that time of the month

As well as open arms for you to cuddle into each night and a soothing hand on your back while he listens to your pains

Quality time is very important to him okay

He WILL pout if you’re on your phone too much when you’re supposed to be with him

If he had his way, your phones would be turned off and in the nightstand drawer

Like fr, even if you try to take selfies with him he’s like 😒 but he allows it because he loves you

He just loves being in the moment with you and doesn’t feel the need for things like that

Picture memories can’t compare to the feeling of actually being with you anyway

This a theme in your relationship actually

San is very low maintenance (except for emotionally pls give him all the love and attention)

So a lot of things you might like or want to do are things that he doesn’t necessarily care about himself

But he will go along with anything for you

Because you are his favorite everything and what makes you happy makes him happy

He will almost never insist on you two doing anything just because he wants to, always wanting to make you happy instead

So please insist on his behalf because he deserves as much prioritizing as you do

He’ll always apologize first after a fight

Even if his feelings are still hurt and he’s still upset, he doesn’t want to risk another second of your precious time in this life together

He won’t let something that probably won’t even matter in a year’s time cost him valuable time with you

When I say there is nothing more perfect to San in this world than you, I mean it

He views you through rose colored glasses

While still recognizing and accepting that you are human

It’s almost too pure

You could be really bad for him but he would still love you so much

So don’t be bad for him >:(

NSFW STARTS HERE

As with every other part of your relationship, you cum first (badum tss)

No but literally

San could not give less of a fuck about himself in the bedroom

Getting you off gets him off

Loooves for you to be his pillow prince/princess

Doesn’t want you to have to lift a finger

Just lay there and feel good for him, that’s all he wants

His answer to many things is giving you oral istg

Stressed? Tired? Cranky? Sad? Mad? Excited?

This sounds like a job for San’s mouth

Rarely accepts oral unless he’s in a particularly feisty mood

Like wdym you WANT to give him head???

No????

Obviously you would rather receive than give right???

Obviously making you cum is the one and only goal in this life right???

Likes if you wake him up with head tho

That’s the one time he’ll let it slide because he’s too dreamy to think straight

But you bet your ass the second he finishes his head clears and it’s payback time

Anyways San softest dom agenda is so real guys

And when you’re lucky…

A good like 1% of the time…

San will relinquish the softness to give you a surprise taste of something much more aggressive

Just to prove that he can

And keep you on your toes

#th: san #th: ateez #ateez fluff #ateez smut #san smut #san fluff

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igglemouse · 2 months

Text

The morning light pulls me from my sleep as the headache reminds me that I've probably had a little too much to drink but not too much to have forgotten about yesterday.

The room around me is bland and simple, a space that's mine but one can hardly tell with how impersonal it is right now. It might as well be a hotel room.

Still I am thankful. I do miss home, deeply, but at the same time I realize I can't go back and that here, Oasis Springs, isn't so bad. My father, a man I don't enjoy mentioning as he is a horrible person and yet for some reason he's done me this kindness.

I wanted to deny this, to say no to this simple bit of fortune, but that would have left me as prey among wolves...

The kitchen is my sanctuary. Despite waking up with darker thoughts the moment the mixer starts mixing a smile forms on my face. Ideas push into my mind about how to give my waffles a bit more kick but not only that, what else can I sell for my food stand?

Just the act of cooking is meditative for me. It's ancient alchemy you know? Our ancestors would just stuff whatever they found in their mouths and might throw it over a fire but how far have we come from those times?

I am surrounded by modernity. Bottles of sauces and jars of spices. Each honed over the decades to add texture, flavor, and aroma, making this all a science not only to enhance taste but also to tickle the soul.

Making simoleons however is not so much a science. I started earlier in the day which might have hurt me because in the end only forty simoleons were made. I could say that this was the worst day ever but then again forty is better than four.

Perhaps there is a secret to it, finding the right time, the right dishes, the sweet spot? I don't know. All I can do is pack up and try again tomorrow.

The day's light fades and with it the realization that expectations were not met. Again. This whole food stand business has really been a story of ups and downs and while I'm sure I can take it, it doesn't make the process any less frustrating.

I sink into the cushion of my couch, flip on my TV, and spend some time wondering what can be done to be a lot more consistent. Improving my skills obviously, the better the food tastes the more likely people come back over and over again. Skill will come with time, practice, and patience.

Perhaps its my marketability that is lacking? Watching commercials is a reminder that sometimes a good advertisement campaign is all a product or service needs to make simoleons.

An insistent knock at the door breaks up my thinking. That's right, I do have an expected guest today...

Of course my visitor is the increasingly familiar face of Pascal of of course I step aside and invite him inside. He takes a moment to take in my small place, the hint of being impressed on his face but its only a hint because he opts not to say anything other than to ask if he might sit.

There isn't much here, a couch, a table, and a bed. My only income is my food stand and that's not at all reliable yet and so the dining table seems as good a spot for a conversation as any.

"So, what's up?" I ask, suddenly feeling nervous, even more so than my conversation with him yesterday? How does that happen? I guess because then I thought he was just some random handsome guy and now I know that he's very ambitious and might just be the most eligible bachelor in town.

"Dunno, just wanted to see you again is all," he says casually but still looks around some. "You have a nice place."

"Gracias," it's then I take a small breath and calm myself. He's here, isn't he? He doesn't have to be and yet he is. The attraction is mutual, I assure myself, so I should act like it.

"Flower Day is tomorrow," he mentions, as if that has some meaning to me. It doesn't, not really. I've always thought of it more as a filler holiday. "I was wondering if maybe you wanted to do something together?"

"A date?"

He chuckles. "I guess you can call it that, yeah."

There's a lot of confidence in his offer as if it is a formality itself, he expects a yes, and I plan to give him one but only after one question is answered. "Why me?"

"Why you?" This catches him off guard. "What do you mean?"

"You don't have a lack of options, I am sure, so what makes me stand out from the others?"

This draws another laugh and a look my way as if I have asked a silly question. I suppose I'm just not used to seeing the worth in myself. I mean eventually I figured I'd find love and settle down and start a family but I certainly didn't come to Oasis Springs with that in mind. It was more like I was pushed out into the desert and forced to survive. Any friendly travelers I meet on the way would be appreciated but not necessary, never necessary.

"You're humble," he says breaking a silence between us I wasn't aware of until his voice made it apparent. "A lot of the women that approach me or vice versa expect it all and its clear that they only see my ambition, not me. They make me feel like I'd be the supporting character in their story and nothing else."

"There is nothing wrong with being a supporting character-"

"But mainly, I want a woman who is prepared for failure."

"Failure?"

He leans in just a little, taking the measure of me, seeking eye contact as if it was all he needed from me. "If I break my leg in three places would you still be with me?"

"I-I didn't even know you played for a pro team!" I say jokingly but also defensively.

"Exactly!" He says with some satisfaction. "So, tomorrow? Date?"

I push out a breath and give my head a nod. Before, the answer would have been yes but now? Yes? I'm a little less sure, this conversation felt more like a try out than just two people getting to know each other. "Yeah, sure, let's see what happens."

Episode List - Next

#the sims #the sims 4 #sims legacy #iggleverse #sims 4 legacy #my sims #generation 1 #frida varela #pascal alcocer #The Sims #The Sims 4 #ts4 #Sims #Sims 4 #soot #sims of our time

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pocketramblr · 6 months

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5 headcanons for an AU where All might deflates in front of the crowd after defeating the sludge villain?

OOOOOOH now that's fun

1- it's quiet, for a moment, as everyone stares and tries to process what they just saw. Izuku, who saw the truth already, still is stunned for a second. And then he realizes everyone else sees too, and his feet move before he can think more about it.

2- Izuku needs everyone to stop looking at All Might as the crowd begins to murmur, shaking itself. Izuku knows that Kacchan is very good at being loud and the center of attention. So, 2+2=4, he gives Bakugou a little push into a hero and a civilian and let's that work out.

3- As the explosion begins, Izuku grabs All Might's hand and runs, down between two buildings that still smell like smoke and sewage. Mt Lady grows for crowd control, and sees where they go- but the look in their eyes makes her turn back to the crowd and block a few civilians from following. She pretends everything is normal, and she's an actress. If that really was All Might- and it had to be, she felt that power- he'll be grateful when she contacts his agency later to demand what happened. If it isn't, then she can point out that letting non-heroes follow a villainous impersonator of that power level would have been disastrous.

4- they go a few buildings further when All Might's feet drag and Izuku's burst of motion slows. He pants, and stops at the street. "Go one way, All Might, sir, I'll tell them you went the other way." He can still hear Kacchan shouting above the other voices, and Mt Lady arguing back, but they don't have a lot of time. "Yeah, no." Toshinori says, and drags Izuku instead into a store, heading for the clearance section and hats.

5- the good news is, most people had put their phones down at this point and weren't filming. The TV cameras had turned away to show the people cheering and the blond victim fine. The bad news is that some people still were filming, and the TV crew went back, catching sight of All Might's skinny back fleeing the scene as the crowd erupted. As Toshinori pays for a change of clothes for both him and Izuku, his phone starts to ring. He mutes it as they change and put on the hats. Izuku asks where they are running too, but Toshinori just goes two buildings down to a ramen shop and sits at a table. He points out that no is going to look for All Might at a restaurant a block from the crime scene, much less expect him to be casually eating there in an Endeavor hoodie and a ball cap. He thinks the bright orange FG jacket izuku is now wearing to hide his school uniform clashes horribly with the lilac beanie, but it works to make the few curls escaping to look less green. As they eat, Toshinori tells Izuku about OfA, and makes his offer. Izuku bursts into tears because he just ruined All Might's secret, revealed it to everyone, he doesn't deserve his quirk, and now that it's in the open All Might can pick someone else, the best choice. Toshinori disagrees, because all Izuku did was inspire him to save that other boy, which was more important. Izuku agrees to be his successor, numbers are exchanged, and after eating Toshinori walks him home just in case- but it seems Izuku wasn't identified, probably because Bakugou could only scream "Deku" when shoved, so Izuku gets a quiet night of pure stress to himself while Toshinori heads to ask Tsukauchi for a ride to Might Tower for a very loud and very long night of pure stress and demanding answers.

#that said. bakugou IS going to be Right Outside when Izuku leaves the next morning to demand answers.#and Izuku will apologize and say he just panicked because All Might needed help and then left when there wasn't a crowd to mob him #but like. bakugou knows Izuku isn't telling the truth. and Izuku knows he can't say ANYTHING or he'll end up saying EVERYTHING and all #anyone can talk about as school is All Might (at least they don't remember Bakugou dying in slime ten seconds prior ig)#and Bakugou can't corner Izuku for answers in school in public and suspects he can't force them out with explosions but maybe threats will #work. so izuku skips at the very end of the day so he can't be cornered twenty minutes later and so he can get a head start running to meet #Toshinori who. you know. has maybe slept two hours at the most since they last met #well. good luck to everyone there!#pocket talks to people #anon #ask game #great ask keep them coming

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sunsafewriting · 1 year

Text

Do A Flip - 4: and then (meanwhile, i)

After leaving St Michael’s, Ava does everything she can to support Diego, including taking him to extracurriculars. Beatrice is his aikido instructor, and it changes everything.

chapter 4 excerpt:

Lilith.

Lilith has never in her life purchased anything from a thrift shop. They're only here to make a donation, which is a task they can usually complete in under two minutes. Except Beatrice — usually the most reliably ruthless ally in any kind of errand, the only one whose efficiency rivals Lilith's — has got distracted.

By the ugliest shirt Lilith has seen, no less. It's blue and yellow, stamped with garish graphics of pineapples, fireworks, and a Pokemon that Lilith, regrettably, does recognise and could name.

But she won't, on principle.

"There are less undignified ways to destroy my opinion of you," Lilith points out, moving to take the hanger out of Beatrice’s hands and return it safely to the rack. Honestly, it’s a testament to how good a friend she is that she’s even willing to touch it.

Beatrice gives her a look. One of these days, she's actually going to roll her eyes, and then Ava's going to want to have some sort of party to mark the occasion.

"Not for me," Beatrice says. "Obviously."

And yes, obviously. The shirt is the exact kind of monstrosity that Ava would fall over herself for, because she has no sense of either shame or style, and thinks "it's hilarious" is a desirable quality in an outfit.

"We can both forget ever seeing it," Lilith offers. It's not as if Ava has a birthday coming up or any other kind of occasion that merits a gift.

Not that Lilith keeps track of that sort of thing, and even if she did, she'd be sure to get Ava something deeply impersonal, like a bottle of that pinot grigio she doesn’t like, to remind her that they're only friends-in-law. Which is barely more than acquaintances.

"I'm going to buy it," Beatrice decides.

Lilith sighs. Ava is going to insist on constantly wearing this shirt in public and will be standing right next to Beatrice when she does.

But judging by Beatrice's pleased expression, she's probably aware of both these facts, only she considers them pros rather than cons.

They head up the counter. The shirt is only three dollars, although in Lilith's opinion, the true cost is incalculable.

Not two days later, Ava is wearing the shirt when she brings Diego to aikido.

She's paired it with bright pink shorts, so the overall effect is, in a word, ridiculous. Especially when she stands next to Beatrice and Diego, who are both dressed in sensible white uniforms. In fact, her outfit is so ridiculous that her ridiculousness spills onto them by association.

Admittedly, it causes Lilith no small amount of amusement to imagine Beatrice's parents' reaction if they were to witness this: to see the daughter they so diligently, carefully smothered, hanging out with a bisexual idiot in a Bulbasaur shirt and a ten-year-old boy whose current dream career is watching baby turtles hatch. Lilith had not wanted to be the one to explain that you can't get paid for that, so she'd left it be. Seemed like an Ava problem.

#it only took me a million years lmao #avatrice #avatrice fic #avatrice fanfic #ava x beatrice #do a flip #sunsafewriting

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arabella-s-arts · 3 months

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Watched the new atla show. And now I will share my thoughts because I need to put them somewhere.

I agree with people that it kind of fell flat. More like an impersonation than the actual show. Also, people are right, where is Katara's rage? I'm not going to dive into it, because people already have, but Katara is stubborn and righteous, so where'd they put those qualities?

I wish the show would stop telling us everything. Like, stop telling me that Ozai thought finding the Avatar would be impossible, and sent Zuko on this quest anyway. I know, it's obvious. I don't need to be told the subtext, that's why it's subtext. Subtality could do this show a world of good.

Zhao's death sucked. It was perfect how it was in the original, it showed Zuko's kindness, and Zhao's hubris being his downfall was perfect. Also, this isn't necessarily a complaint, just something I noticed, Zhao feels different in the show. A guy with similar aspirations and ideas, yes, but not the same guy we all hate.

The acting wasn't always the greatest, but I can't tell if it's actually the actor's fault or script (probably script).

I wish Sokka was involved in the Jet plotline, he played a big part in it originally, and it really showed his true character.

Why did Katara and Aang never get any actual training in Northern Water Tribe? That's what they were there to do. Somehow, magically Katara became a master waterbender, because she what? Believed in herself? That's not how learning a skill works. Imagine trying to learn the flute, you're confident, and you figured out on your own how to play a few notes. But you still need someone to teach you the rest of the notes, how to trill, how to read the sheet music, etc. You can't learn everything just from confidence.

The costumes bothered me so much. Sokka and Katara's coats looked so light weight, which is probably more comfortable for the actors, but those coats could not shield you from a light breeze, much less a frozen tundra. Also someone pointed out that their clothes don't actually look worn, and they're right.

What on earth was the scarf scene? Why was it there? What was the point? I am not a Zutara shipper (though I have no hate for the shippers, just dislike for the ship), and now online is just going to be posts about that.

Was Suki just not wearing her warrior make-up because she had to kiss Sokka? Either way, it's still upsetting. The one time she doesn't wear her warrior make-up (which is an honor to wear) is when she's finally in a real fight, and on the day Kyoshi shows up too. Also, no Sokka wearing warrior make-up? I get if they couldn't fit it in, but it's still a bit sad.

I don't understand them getting rid of the fact that Aang ran away, I think it really makes his character more complex as he struggles to take on the responsibilities of the Avatar.

They sorta switched Sokka and Katara's roles in the Omashu tunnels, which I don't get.

Having Zuko fight Ozai in the Agni Kai was a terrible idea.

I'm sorry to say this, because I don't like Zuko being in pain. But Zuko's scar is smaller and a lot more understated than in the animation. I don't know much about burnt tissue, or how it will scar, especially with their technology. But we rarely see heroes with facial scars beyond a line through the eye or something, I don't want it taken away. The scar doesn't even seem to reach his ear. And I'm sad about them confirming his sight was fine. Zuko with some hearing and vision loss is technically just a headcanon. But then why did Zuko only leave his unscarred side up when sleeping around people he didn't trust in the animated version?

I could tell that Aang was airbending during it, so it wasn't really flying. But it's a little too similar, especially considering how significant flying is in Korra.

The thing that bothered me the most was Yue's death. Why was it barely acknowledged?! Yue made a huge sacrifice, but instead we're making up a plotline that causes Aang to have the spotlight instead. And when Sokka was talking to Arnook about Yue, somehow the conversation became focused on Sokka, and his insecurity, instead of someone they both deeply miss (though Sokka and Yue's relationship development could've been better). Sokka is joking around again by the end of the episode, it feels like her death never happened! And why make her a fish! No offense to fishes, but it feels less impactful, and in the original, we could see how Yue was able to keep some of herself alive in the way she presents herself as a spirit, she doesn't do that here.

Some things I liked:

Zuko being upset about Aang stealing his journal.

Sokka and Suki had really good chemistry (though, the show doesn't really give us a reason why Suki likes him, she seems annoyed with him when they first meet).

The effects were good, and I liked a lot of the fight scenes.

Kyoshi.

Oma and Shu being lesbians.

That one lady hitting Zuko for trying to hurt Aang.

Suki being awkward and beating up the guy she likes.

I am impressed with how they were able to overlap some story lines. That must have been difficult to figure out.

The sets.

Azula.

#did hei bai ever get better in the live action #I don't remember it happening #I'll probably add more stuff to the list if I think of things #atla #avatar: the last airbender #atla live action #atla netflix #the show feels like it's made out of cardboard #if that makes sense

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starflungwaddledee · 4 months

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Lemme know if I'm asking too many questions, but now I'm curious, you mentioned Starstruck's friends liking her unique traits in the answer-train, and now I really wanna know: who's into her massive error-code magical signature? Is it...

Is it Kirby?

i love to answer questions (especially about starstruck at the moment bc i've been really into working on her lore lately) so there's never too many!! sometimes i get very hopeful that i'll draw art and it causes some delays, but i do always always love to get them!!

this bit of info:

what she currently wishes she could lose is her weird magical signature, and perhaps even her non-standard appearance; though i think her friends have probably grown to like one or both of these, and might miss them if they were gone. (this would mean a lot to her to hear).

was actually not any kind of hint at anything more significant (unlike a lot of my answers), it's just the folks around her being good friends and just good people in general!

like... the way she looks (different) the way she acts (different) and the way her magical signature feels (different) are all things that make her her. she is scared of them, because they're different. but her friends like her the way she is, so they like those traits too; if she did successfully change them they'd genuinely miss the traits of her that they've come to love*.

bandee is the one who has the biggest uncontrollable reaction to her magical signature, due to being a waddle dee (meta knight, dedede and kirby notice it but aren't as violently squicked by it) but he pushes past it and over time he starts to notice/be bothered by it much less. she does also pick up signature mimicry fairly quickly, so she can 'fake' a different signature if it really was bothering him, though this is sometimes as jarring as her original one if she picks a strong one.

but... you are right, kirby loves that she can do that!

he finds it a little similar to himself; kirby's magic is understandably more flexible than most, though not in the way starstruck's is. he's incredibly magically sensitive so he can hear her magic voice easily, and for him when she tries on different ones it's like doing an impersonation-- he finds it really entertaining and rather enjoys it! often she'll try out new ones on him to see what he thinks.

i don't bring him up enough in her lore, but magolor also actively likes her weird signature; for different reasons.

he finds it fascinating, but without the overbearing aura of 'is that a threat' that meta knight always exudes. he's assisting with trying to puzzle it out with them, but he was one of the first to make her feel like it was a cool and unique ability that she just happened to have, and something that someone could enjoy rather than be scared of.

*want to put a footnote here that this is framed in a positive light. this is not something about her she wants to change for herself (ie; dysphoria) and a change her friends should accept/support rather than 'missing the old her'. her 'weird traits' are something she only feels pressured to change by societal rules and expectations. her friends would support her of course but most importantly: she shouldn't feel she HAS to change just for being a little different. and they love her and think she's perfect as she is.

#starstruck dee #asks

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pastafossa · 1 year

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Hi Pasta!! I have a question 🙃 What do you think Matt and Jane got each other for Christmas? I cant stop thinking about it. They’re so cute 🥹

BEHOLD. Like 1.1k so rest is behind a see more, but this was in my drafts for what their gifts would be. I didn't have time to get the whole scene done with everything, but I figured this would do!

It didn’t take long for Matt to make use of some of his Christmas gifts, and you found yourself standing by the couch less than an hour later, staring down in amusement at the happy, melted puddle that was Matt Murdock beneath the glow of a Christmas tree.

He’d burrowed down into his new hoodie, his eyes closed and his nose tucked down into the velvet-soft alpaca wool that lined the inside—some of the softest wool you’d been able to find, and something you’d searched long and hard for. Wrapped around the rest of him was a rich, red alpaca wool blanket, thick and warm and equally soft. You had a feeling that, under the blanket, he’d likely also slipped into his new fleece-lined sweats and fleecy socks, ninety-five percent of his body now cradled in soothing, warm comfort.

“So is that a yes on those?” you said softly, relieved now that it was obvious you’d chosen right when it came to this. It had been… a while, since you’d given anything for Christmas, much less given a gift to someone who meant as much to you as Matt did. Soft had seemed a good road to take, and you’d spent ages hunting for something that he’d be able to wear even when his senses ramped up to the point of pain. “Soft enough?”

A quiet sigh, almost a moan, was his response, followed by a glutted “Mhm,” before he lazily lifted his arms out from under the blanket, opening them to you. You quickly took up the invitation, climbing into his lap and letting him wind his arms around you. You dropped your head against his shoulder, reaching over to run your palm across the velvet-soft fabric covering his chest. His reaction was instant, arching up into your hand as he purred and melted further into the couch at the sensation of the fabric sliding on his skin, his head lolling back when you nuzzled in past the collar of the hoodie so you could press your lips gently to his pulse. Briefly, you passed over the new necklace chain he wore, the little braille pendant reading ‘Always Loved’ hidden somewhere beneath the fabric, its color a match for the key around your neck. That, at least, you knew was a success, but the rest...

“You really do like the clothes, don’t you?” you asked him, relaxing a little, curling your fingers to scratch a little as you ran them up and down his chest. “I had a good feeling on the necklace, but for these… I wasn’t sure.” “Why not?” he asked sleepily, fumbling one hand up until he could slip it up under the back of your shirt, palming the line of your spine like you were stroking his chest. You weren’t surprised; he always tried to reciprocate, or maybe he just... liked having an excuse to touch you back. “These are probably the softest things I own now. They’re perfect. They feel amazing.”

“I was worried it was too… I don’t know. Impersonal.” You drummed your fingers a little against his chest, tucking your legs up until you were more comfortable. “But you shouldn’t have to wear things that hurt on your bad days, or at all really, so I-I guess I just—”

“The hoodie smells like you,” he murmured, tipping his head to lay it atop yours. You went quiet, still and unmoving as he continued, “I can tell that you wore it for me a little after washing it, and that it made you happy to do it, because your scent’s different when you’re happy and when you love someone. And every time I move, nothing scratches. Nothing hurts. All of these feel soft and gentle, like how you touch me when I’m bleeding, and when I need you most.” His chest expanded and then dipped on a contented sigh, and then he reached up, brushing his thumb over your cheek, his thumb coming away wet. His voice dropped to something even softer, low and tender. “So much of my life is pain, sweetheart. How could the way you touch me, the way you want to take away some of that pain from me, be impersonal?”

You wound yourself a little tighter around him, hiding your face against his neck as you let out a shaky breath, and he pulled you in tighter with a soothing noise. You’d been so… so terrified you’d fuck this up, that you’d do this wrong after so many years of dodging it, of being alone, of being forced to avoid anything like a holiday, anything like friends or love. The idea that you’d gotten it right on your first try…

And you weren’t the only one.

You leaned away from him just far enough to pick up one of the two photo frames on the coffee table where it had been set atop a massive pile of books you’d wanted to read for years, years in which you’d been forced to pass them by, story by story, cover by cover until Matt hunted down those stories and placed them back into your hands. You laid back against his chest again after you’d brushed your fingers fondly over the books, and instead, you focused once more on the photo inside the elegant black frame.

Foggy had taken it at Josie’s at some point—a candid of you and Matt crammed into a booth, his arm draped around your shoulders as you leaned into him, a bright grin on his face, your head tipped back as you laughed at something he’d said. The warmth in your eyes and his smile was obvious as you stared fondly up at him beneath the dull glow of the bar, at the very same table Foggy had once worked at to ensure your friendship with Matt was mended. There was no disguising what this was. And…

“I can’t believe I can put this on my desk now,” you whispered, tracing your fingers over the frame.

And you didn’t… have to disguise it, did you? There was no need to hide, not anymore. You could have his picture on your desk, could hold his hand as he walked you home, could kiss him when he came to see you at your office or you at his or when you were both out in the rain. And he could do the same with the second picture, one destined for his own desk, all so that he could proudly gesture towards it whenever you came up.

A… a real life.

He lifted one arm and you sniffled, crawling back around to wrap your arms around him in return, burying your face against his neck as he held you close. Held you here at home—a home for you both, for your tree, for your books, for an actual life, lived fully and completely and wholly for the first time.

“I love you, so much,” he whispered. "Merry Christmas."

“Love you, too. Merry Christmas.”

There was no bigger gift he could give you.

#the red thread #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x f!reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil #matt murdock #reader #fic #ficlet #fanfic #x reader #fluff #christmas fluff #basically the two of them trying to give each other what they feel might mean most to the *other person*#jane looks for something that will help him hurt less and something that will remind him that he's cared for and ALWAYS loved #even when the dark voices say otherwise #and even when those voices (THAT SOUND LIKE FUCKING STICK) tell him he doesn't deserve the soft things that make his skin hurt less #now he'll be able to argue back 'she gave it to me because she loves me' and sort of circumvent it by latching onto #'she gave it to me so it's only right that i use it and i don't have to feel bad or weak'#and he gets her things she's missed out on while on the run #books she's always wanted to read along with a picture she can finally put on her desk to publicly say 'yes he's mine and i love him'#and he can do the same #there's also a very large stuffed penguin that matt put one of his shirts on so she can hold it while he's gone if she has a panic attack #but didn't really have time for that so prob just gonna work that into TRT

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